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72.72% Daeron the Defiant: A Second Dance of Dragons (Complete) / Chapter 32: Chapter 32: Chaos

Chapter 32: Chapter 32: Chaos

Jaime:

"Jaime?"

It wasn't adoration, but confusion that his wife greeted him with when Jaime returned to his family's tent. He couldn't fault her for that since they weren't expecting to see him so soon after already leaving for the tourney grounds to prepare for his joust.

"Wife," He responded with a smile, making his way over to her. She was sitting beside his father. Across from and on the other side of Jaime's father was his good brother, Oberyn. The Red Viper wasn't due until later in the lists, so had made himself comfortable with his sister and Jaime's father.

What do they have to talk about? His curiosity and confusion only grew when he saw amusement flash across his father's face at whatever it was Oberyn had just said. It was almost enough to distract him from his pregnant wife, almost.

"I forgot something," he confessed, knowing he made the right decision to return when she smiled at him. The way she glowed, he basked in it, she was brighter than her family's sun.

"What is it that you forgot dear husband?" Elia's Dornish lilt always had an effect on him. She noticed too judging by that small, and playful smirk.

"Your favor."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I've lost count of the number of favors I've given you for this tournament." Still she didn't protest his request. She pulled out an orange ribbon from her dark curls. "Here you are," She tied it to his arm since he was already in his armor. He was one of the first jousts which were drawing near.

"Thank you," He put his hand over hers which was still on his arm. "Thank you for everything," He added when his other hand rested on her swelling stomach.

She leaned in to kiss him.

"Are you trying to make me late, wife?" He was proud at how sharp he sounded after her searing kiss.

Her eyes were sparkling in amusement, but before she could answer him, her golden eyes caught something over his shoulder that dimmed her smile. "Ashara?"

Jaime turned to see Lady Stark. Her violet eyes were unfocused. There were ruffles in her dress and dirt along its hem. "They're still not back?" He stepped aside when he noticed Elia gesturing for Ashara to take the seat beside her.

"No, Ned and Robert have looked all afternoon," once she sat down, Elia grabbed her friends' hands, "They haven't been able to find them anywhere," she revealed. "I had thought they might have stopped here."

"They haven't," Jaime frowned at his friend's predicament. Lyanna, Benjen, and their friend Howland hadn't been seen since after the morning tilts. He knew his friends had gone off several times with men from Robert's retinue to try to find them, but they've all proven to be unsuccessful. "We can lend men," He offered before remembering that he wasn't the Lord of Casterly Rock and said lord was already in the tent with them.

There was hardly a pause before he heard his father's voice. "We can."

He nearly sagged in relief that his father had agreed with him and hadn't tried to correct or chide him in front of everyone. Jaime looked to his father to see he was already watching him expectantly. The message was clear: This is your task, your responsibility to coordinate. "I'll have some men accompany Robert and Ned next time I see them." The only problem was he was not sure when that next time would be. He needed to leave for the tourney grounds or he'd forfeit his joust. Something he had no intention of doing since he still wished to crown his wife the Queen of Love and Beauty.

"You're bleeding!"

Jaime was startled out of his thoughts by his wife's outburst.

There standing in the entrance way of the tent was Ser Gwayne. His white armor and cloak were covered in blood splatters. "It's not my blood, my lady."

"What is the meaning of this?" His father demanded, "Where is my daughter?" Father's eyes were transfixed on the red stains.

"Prince Rhaegar has moved to arrest Prince Daeron." The knight's words led to a swell of raising voices. "He's sent several knights and men to arrest him." Gwayne had to all but shout to finish his message.

Jaime could barely hear his own thoughts over all the noise. Even if he could hear them, how was he to focus on any of them with this revelation. His stomach turned painfully at the idea of his friend being unfairly arrested. The discomfort couldn't hold him for long. It began to melt away to the simmering anger he felt churning at the audacity of Prince Rhaegar's actions. The bards will need to add a few new verses to a particular song.

"They killed the men you had assigned to your daughter, my lord," Ser Gwayne bowed his head to pay his respect, "And I killed the ones they assigned to me." His gloved hand made a brief gesture to one of the many stains on his cloak.

"This," His father's voice was deathly quiet but it brought an immediate hush to the tent, "Will not stand," He slowly stood up, "Where is my daughter?"

Who are you, the proud lord said, Jaime couldn't forget the last ones who tried to defy his father and their family. That I must bow so low.

"She was with Prince Daeron, my lord," Gwayne answered, "They said they were only to arrest the prince."

"They may use her as a hostage," Uncle Kevan had somehow slipped into the room unseen during the commotion or he had already been within and Jaime had missed him. He was not really sure which.

And mine are long and sharp, my lord, Jaime had never seen his father so angry. As long and sharp as yours. For someone who claims to read history, he thought Rhaegar remarkably stupid with his choices. Did he think Father and I would smile and bow when he arrested my friend and made my sister his hostage? "We must go at once, Father."

Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall, Jaime understood what was at stake, and not a soul to hear.

"I agree," His father wasn't looking at him, "Kevan, you will assemble the lords and send a message to the guards of our encampment." His hands were leaning on the table, "I expect that we may have company." The golden flecks in his eyes burned with anger. "Rhaegar Targaryen has declared war on House Lannister."

"As well as on House Martell."

Lord Tywin inclined his head towards the Dornish prince. "Jaime, you are to get Prince Daeron and your sister. I will send more knights after you to provide you with horses and to defend your retreat in case Prince Rhaegar sends in more men."

"I was fortunate to have already found Lords Robert and Ned before I reached you," Ser Gwyane informed them, "They're already on their way with their men."

"Then we shouldn't keep them waiting," Jaime was pleased to know that he'd have his friends with him. He'd want no one else, but them by his side.

"Lady Elia," Lord Tywin turned to his good-daughter, "You will leave swiftly with a substantial retinue of my best knights and men-at-arms. You will return to the Rock untouched."

"Thank you, Tywin, but Lady Ashara will also need to be traveling with us," Elia insisted, "Since her husband and his men have already gone in search of Prince Daeron and Lady Cersei."

He didn't raise an issue with it. "Lady Stark is our honored guest." Father's tent seemed full to bursting with so many different guards and servants rushing around trying to follow their new orders.

Ashara Stark gave her thanks to the Lord of Casterly Rock.

Prince Oberyn, who had been talking to one of his attendants, spoke up. "The men we brought will be alerted and will assist you, Lord Tywin in the defense of this encampment if it comes to that and our retreat."

"Thank you, Prince Oberyn," He turned to where a silent Lannister-men-arms had just stepped in.

"Nearly a dozen men are armed and ready to go while more are preparing, Lord Tywin."

"My son will be handling this insult."

"Tell them we're leaving immediately," Jaime didn't watch the Lannister guard leave. He expected small numbers since many of their men were dispersed throughout the encampment or at the tourney grounds. All of whom were preparing to be entertained by an afternoon of tilts, but were now needed to prepare themselves for the threat of battle.

"I will go with you," Ser Gwayne's inclusion surprised none of them.

"I have only a handful with me who are ready to fight."

"The Red Viper is all I really need," Jaime assured his friend, before he turned to his wife. "I'll see you on the road," he promised her with a kiss.

"Be safe," Her hand was warm on his cheek before she sent him off.

The tournament was over, but it seemed the war was just beginning.

It was less than twenty men that followed them.

The numbers did not concern him since he knew more would be on the way. Not to mention, Robert was ahead of them with his own men. Another reason for his calm confidence was of the superior skill that many of them had including Prince Oberyn and Ser Gwayne who were walking beside him as well those ahead of them such as Robert and Prince Daeron. It's not arrogance, he thought, just honesty.

No, all that concerned him was getting to his friend and sister. They had moved unhindered to the grove. Many of the tents were empty and very few were in the encampment. Everyone had traveled towards the castle and the tourney grounds excited for an afternoon of jousting.

They're about to be disappointed, Jaime thought of them, waiting for a joust that will not start. It'll be enough to alert Rhaegar that something is amiss. That observation dimmed his mood, but hurried his steps. Up ahead, he heard shouting, easily recognizing the loudest of them. Jaime smiled despite what they were running into. He turned to two of his men. "You are to go to my sister and guard her. You are to take her away from the fighting, but you will need to be close enough to join us in our retreat when the horses arrive."

They nodded at his orders.

Jaime welcomed the sound of his sword escaping its sheath. He picked up his pace the rest of the way. He pushed aside branches and danced over the roots that snaked under his feet. The voices were getting louder as were the sounds and songs of battle. He saw the light of the grove ahead of them and then with a few more steps he was at its borders. He took the scene in front of him in a long heartbeat and the only word he could use to describe it was chaos.

His eyes scanned the heated fighting between the two sides: He first spotted Prince Daeron, Dark Sister in hand and a pile of Connington men-at-arms at his feet. His friend was now fighting Ser Jonothor Darry. Ser Gwayne had warned them that they'd be facing knights of the kingsguard. Jaime had always wanted to test his skill against them, but this was not what he had in mind. It would not deter him, because he was ready to do what he needed to to save his friend and sister.

It was a different shout that sent his attention frantically flickering in the other direction to see his sister. His heart lurched at what he saw. Cersei was covered in blood. "Go to her," He urged the men he assigned to her. He feared what wounds she had suffered in the attack, but then he saw the bloody tipped dagger in her hand and he realized Cersei was the one doing the attacking.

Next he saw Robert and Ned, where he was relieved to see they looked unharmed, Robert's men-at-arms staving off what looked like more than a dozen men from House Whent. Robert was fighting Lord Commander Hightower who looked to be struggling with the Lord of Storm's End. Ned was crossing swords with a knight who bore no standard.

Jaime raised his sword, "For House Lannister!" He led his men into battle. He heard the cries for House Martell! with Oberyn beside him.

Both sides turned at the noise, Robert welcomed them with a loud roar while his men's spirits were instantly lifted at the reinforcements. They began fighting harder while Rhaegar's men were startled by another wave of fresh men joining the fray.

The first men who fought Jaime came as a blur. He dealt with them swiftly, a flick of the sword to one before the boy could raise his sword. The other only lasted a parry before Jaime found his opening and cut the man's throat. He wasn't even sure which family these men-at-arms he was killing belonged to.

Jaime cut down a Mooton man-at-arms who thought his axe could beat his sword. He was wrong. Jaime's sword put him to the ground where he was quick to send another when he removed the man's head from his shoulders. From behind him he could hear his sister's loud complaints at being taken out of the fighting. She'll forgive me.

Up ahead, he saw his friend's ongoing success. Dark Sister was a steel serpent lashing out in quick strikes that were making Ser Jonothor stumble backwards. His defense was beginning to crumble. He was tiring while Prince Daeron was unrelenting. Another flick of Dark Sister left behind a pool of red in Jonothor's side, the Kingsguard knight groaned.

He had just finished cutting down another Mooton soldier when a blaring peal shook the battlefield. It cut through all other sounds on the battlefield. It was deafening enough to bring a sudden pause to the fighting and had both sides turning to see Robert's warhammer had connected with Hightower's chest plate. The kingsguard knight fell backwards with a crumpled chest.

Sers Jonothor and Oswell stood rooted at the sight of their respected Lord Commander's broken body on the bloody ground. They were not alone in their shock. The sundering strike punctured the spirit of Rhaegar's men just as well as it had the Lord Commander's armor. These men-at-arms had probably been told there would be no fighting to arrest Rhaegar's brother. Something they had quickly learned to be untrue so Hightower's death proved too much for them. The survivors began to run, retreating into the woods. Connington, who had no men left thanks to Prince Daeron was still trying to stop the others from leaving, but he was failing.

"Connington," Prince Daeron called after the stormlord, " Dark Sister still wants her kiss."

He wasn't the only one who wanted the chance to fight the Lord of Griffin's Roost.

"CONNINGTON!" Robert bellowed, "You traitor, I'll crush you!"

That proved to be the incentive Lord Jon Connington needed to flee with what was left of the men he had been given to arrest Rhaegar's brother. Ser Oswell, and a wounded Darry followed, reluctantly abandoning the body of their Lord Commander with the unknown knight behind them. The remainder of their men trickled after to protect their retreat.

"We should leave too," Prince Daeron turned back to them. "I'm sure my brother will be informed quickly of this little failure."

"Agreed," Jaime looked his friend over, "You seem to be in good spirits for a prince who was nearly arrested for treason."

Daeron smiled. "I'm in good spirits because I have good friends." His expression sobered, "You have my thanks all of you," he told them. "I did not want any of this-"

"We know, Cousin," Robert interrupted, "We know this was not the fight you started."

"No, it wasn't, but I will finish it." Daeron agreed, "But if you wish-"

"Enough," This time it was Jaime. "We're not abandoning you," He heard a murmur of agreement from the others. "We're with you to the end, my friend. Do we need to etch it on your chest plate or pin it to your forehead?" Jaime japed, but he meant every word he said.

Daeron chuckled. "No, that will not be necessary." Cersei had somehow slipped her guard and was at his side. Her hand wrapped around his arm. They made for quite the sight, his dear sister covered in the blood of her enemies while Prince Daeron had a pile of bodies at his feet.

"Ser Gwayne, if you follow me," Prince Daeron said to him, "You know what that will mean?"

"Yes, my prince," The knight sounded completely unbothered by it, "I mean, my king," he bowed his head. "It will mean a good story is about to be written in The White Book."

The Tournament at Harrenhal had turned into a battlefield.

They were riding west, swiftly but carefully in case they were being pursued by Rhaegar's men. They had yet to come within sight of any of the outlying castles or roads, so their progress wasn't as ideal as they would've liked. They surprisingly had yet to come in contact with any of his father's men, who had left before them in a party which included his wife. He knew Elia would be well. Father would not let any harm come to his good-daughter especially when she was pregnant with the potential heir to the Rock. Still, it could not stop the worry from sprouting up like stubborn weeds. He did not think he would lay it to rest until he could see her with his own eyes, and have her in his arms.

He looked ahead needing a distraction where he saw Prince Daeron. Is he still a prince or is he a king now? Jaime knew everything was changing. Rhaegar had seen to that.

King or not, he saw his friend up ahead, riding with Robert and Cersei. The often boisterous Lord of Storm's End was more subdued while he regaled them with a story from his time in the Vale. Prince Oberyn rode right behind, sprinkling his own commentary throughout the retelling. The only one absent besides himself was Ned, who was riding beside Jaime. His friend was solemn and silent.

Ned had not wanted to leave Harrenhal because of his missing siblings, with Robert being just as reluctant but Daeron all but ordered it. He was afraid of what his brother might do if they were caught in the name of retribution. He'll call you traitors and, He didn't need to finish for them to understand their fate if they were caught. More than once he glanced over his shoulder towards where the pillars of smoke were rising in the sky, and his grey eyes betrayed where his own heart and worries were.

"They're safe, Ned," Jaime tried to comfort his friend. "I've seen your sister with a sword," He then tried to jape, "She'd surprise any man who thought her weak."

"The wolf's blood," Ned said softly, "That's what my father called it." He was still looking behind, "I should go back." His grip on his reins made his knuckles go white. "I can't abandon them."

"Lyanna and Benjen wouldn't want you to get killed." He pointed in that direction. "Perhaps, Rhaegar puts you in the Black Cells as a hostage or perhaps his father decides you're a traitor for thwarting Daeron's arrest."

Ned sighed. He looked like he was fighting off a headache. "She picked the wrong time to follow her wolf blood."

"Indeed, I'm just thankful my family doesn't have such a thing. I mean lion's blood?" He asked, "What would that even be?"

His friend's smile was weak, but it was there.

"Riders!" A voice called ahead.

"Banners?" Jaime demanded, but the question proved unnecessary since all around them, riders were appearing before them until they were now completely encircled.

Daeron made a noise in the back of his throat before grumbling about finding himself being surrounded again.

"Form up!" Jaime ordered his men into a defensive position, but the riders who approached them moved no closer besides the loose circle to envelop them. They drew no weapons. They just kept their places.

"No need for that, lad," Jaime turned to see the riders parting for someone and while the voice was familiar, there was no mistaking the face. It was Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish. Behind him the banners of House Tully were flying by two riders.

"Ser Brynden?"

"Aye," He leaned forward in his saddle looking them over. "You may be good soldiers, but you're shitty scouts," he gestured to his men to break their formation. They did, before reforming behind the Blackfish in two rows, "You need to be aware of your surroundings especially now," He gave Daeron a pointed look.

"You are right, Ser Brynden," Daeron didn't try to argue. "May I ask if there is another reason why you've come upon us besides teaching me the crafts of war?" His words may have sounded sarcastic, but he wore an earnest expression while his tone remained respectful.

Brynden snorted. "Aye, I did." He held up a piece of parchment, but he was looking at Jaime. "My brother has invited you all to Riverrun. That's where your father and wife and the rest of my brother's men are going."

"Lord Tully?" Daeron didn't try to hide his surprise. "He wants an audience with us?"

"Yes," the Blackfish encouraged his horse to approach Jaime when he was close enough he handed him the folded piece of parchment.

Jaime took it with a nod and opened it up.

"What does it say?"

"It says don't ask questions," Jaime replied to his sister. He could feel her responding glare, but his attention was on his father's writing. It was brief, but it did include his father's seal. "He's going to Riverrun." Lord Tully wants something, Jaime realized after getting over his initial confusion at such an unexpected invitation.

"Then we ride to Riverrun," Daeron decided before turning to Ser Brynden, "We'd be honored for the escort."

"If you mean will you please insure that we don't ride into an enemy's trap, then aye, I'll take you there," The Blackfish's words were rough, but his smile belayed it.

Daeron chuckled. "It's an honor to ride beside you again, Ser Brynden."

"No need for that," He waved it away, "I already said I'm riding with you."

"Then after you, Ser Brynden," Daeron deferred to the knight. "We shouldn't keep Lord Tully waiting."

Barristan:

It was the smoke he saw first.

Barristan had seen it from his window inside the Harrenhal castle. He had been preparing to leave for the jousts, but the sight of smoke made him stop at once.

This was not the smoke of campfires surrounded by festive men, eating and drinking. No, these were plumes of heavy black smoke. This was the smoke of battle.

He felt something cold touch the back of his neck at that observation- Battle? It couldn't be, he tried to dismiss it since he couldn't see formations or fighting, only flames. Something was wrong.

That was when he left. He was not the only one surprised by what was happening. The castle corridors were filled with panicking guards and fleeing servants. Barristan paid them no mind. He went right to where he was supposed to go. He went right to his king's chambers.

It was not a long walk, but it felt like an eternity taking it.

What is happening? He kept his hand on his sword. It served as his anchor to keep him from getting lost in the fear and desperation that was sweeping through the castle like a storm. It kept him from letting his thoughts carry him away towards things that were not his to think of.

I am a sword. I am a knight.

That was what he told himself. That was what he'd say when certain thoughts began to bubble up. He'd reduce his world to keep it all out. It's only me and my sword.

The doors were in front of him. The two Targaryen guards on duty straightened up at his appearance, but before he could even reach the door, it opened to show Prince Rhaegar Targaryen walking out.

"My prince," Barristan bowed his head. "Outside its-"

"I'm aware," The Prince replied calmly. His tone was almost serene.

"What's happening?" Barristan asked. "Where's the King?" He tried to look over Rhaegar's shoulder, but the prince blocked him, stepping aside while a bland smile came to his face. The doors promptly closed.

"My father is in one of his moods," Rhaegar answered delicately, "He'll be leaving shortly. He is returning to the capital. Where he will be safe and well looked after."

"What about Prince Daeron?" Barristan didn't think he'd seen him since the morning tilts and that had been hours ago.

"My brother?" Rhaegar sighed. "He has made a mistake."

"A mistake?" The dread was growing in his stomach. "What sort of mistake?"

"He's betrayed the crown, Ser Barristan," Rhaegar answered softly, "Not only that, but he's betrayed our father, our mother, Viserys, his nephew," The Crown Prince listed them all off, "And he's betrayed me."

Barristan had already been shaking his head while Rhaegar was talking. He didn't believe it. He didn't understand it. He felt something shift in his chest. "You," He had said it so softly, he didn't think the prince could hear, but he was wrong.

"Me?" Rhaegar sounded amused, "What do you mean, Ser Barristan?"

"Where is Prince Daeron?"

"He's fled," Rhaegar answered, "The guilty always do."

I never should've come up here, that was what he heard the voice say. I should've left the castle, ran towards the fighting. That's what I know. I could fight. That's how I help. This was the voice and the words he always told himself when forced to think. He always chose to look away.

It's not my role, he'd say, The Game of Thrones is not my battlefield.

He chose the easy thing to do. It was easier to follow an order then it was to refuse it. It was easier to comply then question. He didn't think about what he was told to do, he just did it. All the while, he'd tell himself, that he was a good man, a good knight. Only now was he beginning to see how wrong he was.

"You did this," he shook his head, "You."

How long did I wait to serve the man before me? How long did I tell myself that this would be the king to serve. When Aerys raped his wife, and Barristan stood outside that door, he told himself, Rhaegar will be the king to give me back my honor. Rhaegar will be the king we need. The king I need.

It was all unraveling before him and his stomach lurched painfully.

I saw what I wanted to see. I wanted a great king so I made him a great king, but he isn't.

He was looking at Rhaegar, at the prince who he thought would be a great king, one of the greatest, but seeing him now he saw none of that. There was no pride or hope. He just felt sick.

"Why are you doing this?" Barristan's head began to pound, but he pushed away the pain.

"You could not possibly understand," Rhaegar gently chided him if he was a child and not a knight of the kingsguard.

"The prophecy?" Barristan in his heart knew the answer before he ever asked. "You'd risk everything over the words of some woods witch?" When he said the words out loud, he realized just how ridiculous it all sounded that he actually laughed.

Rhaegar's mouth formed a thin line. "I would not expect a knight to understand the burdens of the Crown," his voice had gone colder.

"He could've been your Aemon Dragonknight, but instead you made him your Daemon Blackfyre."

Something angry flashed across Rhaegar's face at Barristan's words, before it was smoothed away. "Will you stand with me, Ser Barristan?"

"No, my prince," He undid the clasps of his white cloak. "I will not."

The fabric fell to the ground. The guards in front of him were pulling out their swords.

Barristan's was already out of its sheath when Rhaegar's voice stopped them all.

"No," the Crown Prince ordered, "Sheathe your swords." He told his guards before turning back to him. He saw his confusion since a small smile played on his lips. "I'm not a fool. I order these men forward and you'll kill them without breaking a sweat." He ignored the shifting of his guards. It was hard to tell if they were relieved or insulted by Rhaegar's observation. "You saved my father once."

"I did," Barristan had thought he had done the right thing. He had saved his king. Then he'd stand outside his chambers and hear the Queen's whimpering or he stood in the throne room watching men consumed by green flames. I should've failed, a dangerous thought and a secret he told no one.

Rhaegar would've become king. That was what he told himself. Those words watering the seeds of doubt that were rooting in his heart. And all would've been better, but now…

He looked up at Rhaegar Targaryen.

I was wrong to think that.

"A life for a life, Ser Barristan. You saved my father so I will save yours."

He looked at the prince carefully. "You will let me leave even if I go to your brother?"

"Yes, but know this," Rhaegar answered simply, "I will not offer this again, Ser Barristan. There will be no clemency once my brother and his allies are stopped. If you wish to throw away the gift I give you then so be it."

"I do," He didn't hesitate.

Rhaegar pointed past Barristan, "Then go."

He did and he never looked back.

Barristan had not gotten too far when he heard the shouting.

He was trying to leave this cursed and ruined castle when he stopped at the sound. It wasn't far, he looked down the corridor, and was certain they were near. He kept going forward, this time more alert.

It was when he heard the second shout did he know which door to open and he did. He saw two boys, one was on the floor, the other was standing in front of him to protect him from the two guards approaching them. The boy tried to stop them, but one of the guards pushed him to the ground. The guards were laughing.

That was all Barristan needed to see before sliding into the room. His sword was already out and was through the first guard before the men knew what had happened. They weren't laughing now.

"What the-?"

Barristan's sword interrupted that question when he put his sword through the second man's throat. He let out a wet gasp. His eyes widened before his body stilled. The body crumpled in a heap when he withdrew his sword.

He was about to turn to the boys he saved, but the yellow tunics the men were wearing stopped him. There was something familiar to them. Old memories were bubbling up of battles fought long ago, he checked their arms and that confirmed his suspicion. He saw one man had seven golden arm rings clamped to his left arm while the other man had five.

The Golden Company. He hadn't seen their ilk since the Stepstones. He didn't, but Barristan already knew his answer of what the crown prince was capable of before he was interrupted.

"Ser Barristan?"

The voice was of a woman which made him pause. He turned to the two boys on the floor to discover, one of them wasn't a boy. She was only dressed as one. In dirty brown trousers and a muddy grey tunic, Lyanna Stark was getting to her feet. She looked tired and sad. She had been the one who had gotten shoved. The boy beside her he recognized as her brother, Benjen.

"Lady Lyanna?" Barristan looked between them and then the Golden Company sellswords on the ground. "What happened?"

There was redness around her eyes. "We were taken."

"Prince Rhaegar?" Barristan could not believe how far the prince was falling.

"Yes," she answered in a snarl that would've made the Stark sigil proud. "They found us." She hesitated, some of the fire leaving her eyes, "And-" She paused, looking anywhere but at them.

"They took Howland," Benjen's voice cracked, "They found us with the gear."

"Gear?"

"The gear for the Knight of the Laughing Tree," Benjen answered.

"That was him?" Barristan never would've thought the crannogmen capable of such a feat.

"No, I was the mystery knight," There was no pride in Lyanna Stark's admission, only pain.

Barristan decided it would be better if he didn't show his dismay at her confession despite feeling it. He could sense the pain and anger lurking beneath the surface. It was ready to lash out like a hungry wolf.

"When they found us with the gear they demanded to know which of us was the mystery knight," Benjen explained, "Howland stepped forward and told them it was him."

"To protect us," Lyanna's voice hitched. "He told me," she bit her lip. "He told me," she stopped a second time to take a breath. "He told me it was his duty as a Stark bannermen. He-" She couldn't finish.

He remembered Aerys' wrath towards the Knight of the Laughing Tree as well as the king's certainty that he was an enemy of the Crown. Barristan did not need to ask what happened to their friend, because he knew what happened to those Aerys was convinced were his enemies. A bright, green flash flickered across his vision of the many memories of him standing silently while guilty men were condemned. I will not be that man anymore.

"But they still took us!" Benjen protested. "They promised they'd release us after Prince Daeron was arrested. They didn't want us to warn them."

"We must go," he couldn't save their friend, but he could save them, "Quickly grab those cloaks and use the hoods too," He doubted Rhaegar would remain generous if Barristan was caught sneaking out the two Starks. "We need to leave."

"Where?" Lady Lyanna's tone remained suspicious despite Barristan freeing her and her brother.

"We're going to find horses," he was relieved they at least listened to him by putting on the cloaks.

"But where are we going?" This time it was her brother. He pulled his hood up.

"We are riding west," he was about to add that we're riding to find Prince Daeron, but he stopped himself because he knew what was to come. "We're riding to find King Daeron."


CREATORS' THOUGHTS
DravenShadefall DravenShadefall

Curious to see what Daeron does next? You can get a head start on Daeron the Defiant: A Second Dance of Dragons by checking out the early chapters on my Website at https://dravenshadefall-shop.fourthwall.com

Chapter 33: Chapter 33: Respite

Cersei:

Why are we here?

Cersei relaxed herself within the tub that the Tullys had provided for her.

She had been traveling on the road unable to really properly wash herself so she had gotten used to her appearance, she had even started to like it. These red stains showed the fate of those who thought they could take me. They tried not to just take my freedom, but they tried to wretch me from him. She wouldn't forget the wet, strangled gasp of the first man she killed in that fight. His eyes wide in fright in those last flickering heartbeats, staring in helpless horror as she plunged the dagger into his throat.

The blood had felt warmer than this bathwater. Her arms had been scrubbed clean, her neck, her face, her legs. The last lingering red remnants of her victory were washed away. The evidence of my triumph, the show of my strength.

Her dress had been a testament to her will. The blood stains of her enemies made her dress a tapestry displaying her skill, but that too had been taken away from her. It had been ripped and stained, but she thought the blood splatters brought out the crimson in her ruined dress, but it had been tossed away like a dirty rag.

Soaps and oils had been applied to her and the water, adding flowery scents to the air and to her skin. She raised her hand out of the water watching the water spill out between her fingers. She examined her nails to see they had cleaned them too.

They cannot take my memories. They cannot scrub it away with soaps and sponges.

She ripped the dagger out of her first kill with an awkward twist of her body to escape the other assailant's grasping hand. She nearly lost her balance in the movement, but her practicing footwork saved her, and doomed him. She put all of her anger into the thrust before driving the dagger into the man's gut. He coughed and gagged, cried and gaped. The blood started as a trickle, slipping past her dagger, before she gave the weapon a relentless tug to wrench it free, then the wound became a crimson torrent…

SPLASH. Her hand hit the water harder than she intended. It was so sudden that it startled the attendants in her room. The noise was a knife that had cut through their mindless chatter.

"My lady?" One of them called out to her.

She raised a hand to wave away their concern. They didn't persist and went back to their work and prattle. She had dismissed them from personally attending her with the bath, after they had finished with her hair. She wanted a moment of peace without being grabbed, touched, or scrubbed.

I shouldn't be here. She leaned her head back against the cushioned pillow. I should be with him.

Cersei looked at her leg that dangled out of the tub. The cool air was a refreshing kiss against her bare and wet skin. It should be him who is in here with me. She was resentful for this poor company forced upon her.

Daeron would tell me He wouldn't hide me away. That spurred her to stir out of her bath. She stood without shame or shyness, feeling the water dribbling down off her, splattering back down into the tub and around the surrounding floor.

He'd listen to her words: We should be going to the west to raise my family's banners. They could not be safe or settled until they were back at the Rock. Her eyes settled on a pair of Tully trouts that were in the stonework above the hearth. We should be amongst lions not fish.

A servant made a surprise squeak. "My lady?"

"Is my gown ready?"

"Yes, my lady, bu-"

Cersei knew they had some excuse or order they were about to parrot so she cut her off. "Then I will wear it."

She carefully stepped out of the tub, one of her attendants rushed forward with a towel to begin to wipe her down, but she moved with hesitation that made Cersei think she'd be stuck in this chamber all day. "I'll do it." She felt their envious eyes upon her form while she dried herself off. Yes, I'm beautiful as well as powerful. "That will be all," She told them, tired of their presence. They wisely listened. One by one they curtseyed and left.

Her dress was simple and her hair was still wet, but she didn't care. She didn't have time for frivolity, not now. I've waited long enough. Besides I want answers not compliments.

"Why are we here?"

It was probably not the first words that should've come out of her mouth upon finding him. She came in like an angry burst of wind, spotting him by the hearth, sitting in a cushioned chair. There was a glass of wine at his elbow on a table that bore carved Tully trouts, but his drink looked untouched.

Daeron took her sudden appearance and demand with a small smile. He rose from his seat. "We were invited." He then looked her over, but there was no disapproval in his eyes at her damp hair and drab gown.

His eyes were so warm she could feel a spark begin to burn in her chest from his gaze. She wanted to smile at his wit, cherish his handsome face, to embrace him, but her impatience made her too prickly. "Your brother tried to arrest you."

"He did," Daeron's smile tightened.

"We should be going West, Daeron," She implored him. "We should be raising my father's bannermen." She feared the moment would be stolen from them, and a cry would soon come from the walls that Rhaegar's men or the king's had followed them here. That they were now stuck inside a castle that was not their own. The Tullys were neither friends or family. They may have given them bread and salt, but trouts tend to swim away not stand and fight.

"We could find allies in these halls, Cersei." He walked across his chambers with his glass of wine, but didn't drink from it until he reached the table. "We've been given bread and salt." He took a long sip as if to further prove his point. "Meanwhile, my brother will be riding back to the capital, my father too."

"To call their banners," She felt her heart hammering in her chest. The anticipation and anxiety were twin hammers that would not let her stay calm or comfortable. "They will come for us."

"They will come for me ."

"They can't have you," She growled, a wave of red flickering across her vision. Cersei could almost feel the warm splatter against her face from those who had already tried to take him from her. He's mine.

"We should leave," She didn't like this notion of waiting and talking while the Mad King and his equally mad heir were hatching their own dangerous schemes.

"Your father and brother are speaking with their bannermen who attended the tournament."

"They are?" She tried to hide her frown at not being told this. Jaime and I both fought, but he's given the honor to plan while I was forced to wash.

"Yes," He must have seen something in her expression since he approached her. "I'm sorry, I thought you knew." His fingers brushed some of her damp hair away.

"No," She willed her voice to sound fierce. It must be a roar and never a whimper. "I didn't." I was confined to a tub. "Why aren't you with them?" She thought he should be or with Robert and Ned and Oberyn or even Lord Tully. She thought he should be doing something, but he hadn't been when she found him. She didn't understand especially since she heard the whispers and some of the men in how they addressed her betrothed, they called Daeron, King.

It wasn't a word one said lightly. It wasn't a title Daeron had sought, but now it was being thrust upon him. We cannot be left alone in Summerhall so now Rhaegar will risk it all. The other word so often spoken with king, didn't bring the giddy joy it did when she was younger. When it was all she ever wanted to be- Queen. There was none of that burning desire that had consumed her so thoroughly for too many years.

When she thought of her and Daeron together, it wasn't in front of the Iron Throne in the Great Hall as King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but in a sept with a septon in front of them. He wasn't coronating them, but marrying them. We're being called husband and wife. It was a pleasing thought of a promising future that Rhaegar was determined to steal from them.

"I've spoken to them including your father," His words broke through her musings.

"And?" She despised being the last to know. It felt like a weakness she could never shield herself from.

"It will be at the Rock, our wedding, and all that will follow. If it meets with your approval."

"It does," She answered, "It does," She was repeating herself but she didn't care because she was so unbelievably happy that they were so close to what she wanted. It was only when her own frustration began to fade could she see how much this was all starting to affect him.

The tension in his shoulders, the weary wrinkle across his brow, the uncertainty that lurked within the depths of his eyes. The tight grip in which he was holding his glass or the nervous clenching and unclenching of his free hand. I was a selfish, blind fool! She cursed herself, I complained and ranted while he's drowning in front of me. He needed my hand, but I gave him my fist.

She kissed him then, wanting to take it all away from him or at least to distract him from the endless worries that cropped around him like summer weeds. It was searing, but all too short because of a sudden and unwanted knock on the door.

"Prince Daeron?" It was an unfamiliar voice to her ears, but that didn't stop her from focusing all of her ire at this unseen attendant who interrupted them. "Lord Hoster Tully is ready for you."

"Thank you," His eyes were on her when he added, " We 'll be ready shortly."

They weren't led to Lord Tully's solar or to his hall, but to a pair of chambers that looked to not have received many guests over the years. One of the tapestries that remained hanging on the stone walls was a large cloth of red, but with the top and bottom being blue to resemble waves of a river with smaller trouts stitched to appear as if they were swimming in it.

Lord Tully was waiting for them by the open doors that led out to a high stone balcony. He was as tall as her father. His hair wasn't as red as his daughters. It was more rust colored with some grey beginning to intrude. The beard that covered his cheeks and chin was the same color. He had blue, shrewd eyes, and was smiling when he saw them.

He dipped his head in greeting, "Prince Daeron." He then raised his eyes to regard her, "And Lady Cersei." He gestured for them to join him on the balcony. "It is a lovely day, please."

"Thank you, Lord Tully," Daeron replied. They took two seats across from him. The chairs were cushioned, the sunlight was warm against her skin. The Lord of Riverrun was right about it being a lovely day. The rush of water below them was a soothing sound. Unseen birds could be heard twittering to one another.

"Wine?" Lord Tully offered, servants were standing and waiting for their orders.

They accepted. The vintage was local and unfamiliar to her, but the taste was pleasant. Her first sip had been small. It was polite and cautious, prepared to give a pretty smile to hide her distaste for bad wine. The second sip was longer, settling herself more comfortably into her surroundings.

"Lady Cersei, you are a lovely surprise," Hoster said to her once the three of them were alone.

She smiled at him. "I hope it is a welcome one."

"It is," He assured her. "I kept my Cat by my side for years, letting her lead and learn. She was my heir until Edmure was born to us. He is young but my Cat is a good teacher," He boasted, "It will be a sad day when I must remove the Tully maiden cloak from her shoulders."

I doubt you'd weep tears of sorrow if the trout cloak was replaced with a dragon one, She suspected, Lull us here with your interest of friendship, all the while securing your eldest daughter's hand to a Targaryen prince. The thought struck her with a sudden sharpness that made her nearly wince, my prince. She unintentionally tightened her grip on Daeron causing him to look her way.

She answered his inquisitive gaze with a smile. It wasn't like the one she had just given Lord Tully. This smile was something true. It wasn't a polite veneer for her to hide behind, but a telling way to show her appreciation for him.

Lord Tully spoke up. "We are honored to host you. It has been some time since my family has had so many great and noble families behind our walls and beneath our roof."

"I'm grateful," Daeron made no mention of his own family.

I imagine Daeron's family would be grateful to the Tullys if they delivered him to the gates of the Red Keep . She tried to soften the sour feeling in her stomach with more wine.

"I do not plan on intruding on your hospitality for too long, my lord," Daeron said, "Riverrun has proven a welcomed reprieve, but I have other matters to attend to."

"I understand," Lord Tully didn't sound offended that he'd be seeing them depart so soon nor was he insistent that they try to stay longer. "Especially in regards to the rumors that are coming out of Harrenhal. They are rather concerning." He paused as if waiting for them to object or react, but when she and Daeron didn't in the way he was expecting, he continued. "It is said you've committed treason against the Crown. You and your party killed many men including the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."

"Rhaegar killed those men when he sent them to try to arrest Daeron." She'd not shy away from who the blame should be given to. "The charges were false." She'd not allow her or Daeron's name to be tarnished by these lies.

"They carry the authority of the Iron Throne. That cannot be ignored," Hoster Tully neither looked convinced at her argument or truly invested in Rhaegar's. "The law of the Seven Kingdoms, the royal authority, the High Septon, all of the displays of power are with your brother, Prince Daeron."

"I'm well aware of my brother's advantage," Daeron's tone was beginning to sharpen.

"In the eyes of the smallfolk and the Seven Kingdoms, you will be seen as a rebel, a usurper. Rhaegar will send out ravens and riders to tell his tale and it will be a compelling one, of a jealous younger brother trying to take what was not his. How he was caught and fled like a guilty man, but not before striking down many loyal men to the Crown ," Hoster observed rather politely despite the dark observations.

"You cannot dismiss the power that will wield. You, the greedy and grasping second coming of Daemon Blackfyre and him, the loyal prince defending his father and the realm."

Daeron scoffed before rising out of his seat. "You do not need to remind me of the affection my brother holds in the heart of so many. The smallfolk, the capital, the Seven Kingdoms, how they adore my brother, their precious silver prince."

Cersei couldn't forget all the applause and adulation Rhaegar received during the tournament at Harrenhal. Oh how he presents himself as some benevolent being ! She had moved to join Daeron, placing her hand on her prince's shoulder. Anyone could look promising if compared solely to the Mad King! That was the folly, she thought, the trap everyone fell into. It was a failing she knew all too well. On the outside to them all, Rhaegar would've looked perfect, but he was rotting from the inside out.

"If you truly believe or respect the might of the Iron Throne then why did you invite us to your castle?" Cersei asked, giving only a flickering look to their host.

"Curiosity," Hoster answered mildly, "To see how close we really are."

She didn't believe that. We're here for his amusement and ambition. She knew what he wanted. He'll hear our words, but he'll not commit until he hears what the Iron Throne will offer.

Daeron sighed. "We're only this close because my brother insists on shoving me towards a confrontation I didn't want."

"You blame Rhaegar and he blames you," Hoster sounded almost amused, as if he was a father mediating between his children and not a Lord Paramount between two feuding princes.

Daeron didn't make an effort to return to his seat. He remained standing across the sitting Lord of Riverrun, "My brother refuses to respect the betrothal our father has made with Lord Tywin Lannister."

"All this bickering over betrothals," He let out a soft chuckle that wasn't mirthful, "You're holding up a looking glass and directing it back at me, Prince Daeron. All I can see is my brother and myself, and the rows we had over this very issue," His tone sombered, "However, we only exchanged shouts and curses, the direction yours is taking is much more dangerous."

"I am aware of that," Daeron acknowledged, "but now that I have been put on this path, Lord Tully, I cannot ignore what else I see. My father's madness only worsens and my brother's fascination with prophecies is leading my family towards our own annihilation." Daeron went over to retrieve his wine glass which he then proceeded to empty in one sip. "I cannot allow that."

Hoster's eyebrows rose at those revealing words. "You have powerful friends," He began to list them, "Lannister, Martell, Baratheon," raising a finger with each family he mentioned, "These are great and strong houses, but I caution you do not count on men that have yet to be raised."

"You doubt the loyalty of my father's bannermen?" Cersei understood his implication and its insult, intended or not. "The Westerlands follow House Lannister and no other," She declared proudly.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I mean no insult, Lady Cersei," His tone almost sounded sincere to her ears.

You mean many things, she suspected, he comes to them as their host to offer friendly counsel, but she saw through it. He puts down Daeron's friends to likely lift his own family. Oh, do not rely on Baratheon or Lannister, He'd caution, but you can rely on me. He'd say it simply and kindly, And then he'd slip in the need for his eldest daughter to have a husband.

"Thank you, Lord Hoster for this enlightening discourse," Daeron was more polite than she wished to be. "You've given me much to think about." He held out his hand for her which she happily took, while making sure that Lord Tully saw it too.

Daeron didn't speak again until they were outside the chambers with his own guards walking with them. "Lord Tully will not be hasty," He said, "We do not have the luxury of time like he does. We must act. We must leave."

"When?" She didn't protest. This castle was an obstacle that she wanted to clear. Past here, we ride to the Rock. Mother and Tyrion were waiting for her. She missed her brother dearly, her mother too. It had been months since she last saw them, but it was more than just family waiting for her.

At the Rock I will become his wife. A rush of warmth spread through her at that declaration.

"As soon as we can."

Lyanna:

It was hard to sleep. The dreams were always the same.

No, not dreams, she corrected herself, dreams would've been easier. They weren't real. Dreams were lies and hopes and fears, but they would always dispel like a cold breath. You could see or remember them for a while but then they'd turn into nothingness, a fuzzy image that you couldn't quite remember. I'll never forget Howland's sacrifice.

She turned her face over into her pillow, muffling a sob that tore through her like a harsh blizzard.

I serve House Stark, he was small and solemn, determined to do his duty for her family. He picked up the shield knowing it wouldn't be used for defense but a condemnation for something he didn't do.

Another sob followed, her hands were shaking while her pillow attempted to muffle the mournful sound that was being wrung from her. She counted a few more seconds before she turned over, letting out a breath that turned into a hiccup. Her eyes stung with tears, wetness smeared against her cheeks.

She scrubbed them away with the back of her hand.

Lyanna should've known a soft bed wouldn't have helped her. For the first time since she left the tournament with Ser Barristan and her brother, they were staying in a keep under a lord's protection. They had rode fast and tirelessly through the Riverlands wilderness once they fled Harrenhal. That had been days ago. They stopped only for their horses and short rests for themselves.

They had arrived at the Golden Tooth that day. The castle was accommodating to their unannounced guests. The Leffords had put a castellan in charge of the keep since they and much of their household had gone to Harrenhal to attend the tournament. They hadn't returned nor had there been sight or word from the Lannisters who were expected to pass through on their return to Casterly Rock.

She slipped out of her bed knowing restful sleep would not come to her. The only lights in her room was a sliver of moonbeams coming through a window since she had only partially closed the curtains. The small hearth in her very small room had a fading orange glow. She padded over to the chair in front of the fire.

The cloth of her borrowed gown was scratchy against her skin. When they fled Harrenhal she didn't have any of her clothes so she had been wearing the same grey tunic and dark trousers for days. Here, she was offered some clothes which included this old sleeping gown that she was wearing.

I was so eager to participate, so proud with every victory I earned. She stared sullenly into the dying orange glaze of the fire. They cheered for me, thinking I was a man, some great unknowing knight.

It had been almost impossible for her to stop smirking that night when all anyone was talking about was her or as they called her, The Knight of the Laughing Tree.

The cloth scratched at her arms. She fidgeted in her seat, adjusting her gown as she did trying to alleviate the annoying discomfort it was having on her.

She didn't tell Ned who she was. Lyanna suspected he'd not find it charming or courageous but foolish. He'd frown and insist she stop before she got hurt or was exposed. I should've told him.

Lyanna nearly told Robert. It was a temptation that only grew while she sat beside him listening to him that supper as he tried to guess who it was. A time or two she had to turn a snicker into a cough or cover her mouth to hide her amusement at his poor attempts.

It's me, Robert! She'd tell him, Lyanna didn't think Robert would scold or worry. He'd burst out laughing. It was enough to make her smile in the dark, wistfully wondering how it would've played out. His face hovered in front of her, he was grinning while his bright blue eyes shined like twin stars. Seeing his handsome visage and thinking of his charming laugh brought a sudden sensation within her chest.

I should've told them, the sensation was quickly snuffed by her guilt. Howland paid the price for my pride.

Lyanna, Howland's voice seemed to call to her. She ran her hands up her arms trying to smooth her gown's sleeves from pricking at her skin like fingernails.

I just wanted to teach them respect and honor. It should've ended there, but it didn't. The memory of that fateful day swirling all around her, trying to pull her down like a raging whirlpool. It wasn't supposed to be like this, the guilt caught her in churning waters. I just wanted to defend Howland.

When they told me that Aerys wanted the Mystery Knight, she should've confessed to them then. Ned, Robert, Prince Daeron, they would've helped me, protect me, but she convinced herself that she was protecting them by not telling. Lyanna thought the fewer who knew the less likely that the Mad King would discover her and learn the truth.

They found us in a clearing. I never should've gone back. She felt herself shaking like she was standing on the deck of a boat sailing through a storm. She pulled her legs up and then hugged them trying to stop her trembling.

The Crown Prince had been surrounded by a dozen men, but there was no white cloak amidst them. She had never been so close to Prince Rhaegar. She remembered trying to watch him joust during the tournament. She had been impressed by how good he was, at how many good men he took down. Lyanna had thought it difficult for this prince to be the Mad King's son. He seemed everything Aerys wasn't, but she was wrong, so very wrong. He just hides his madness better than his father.

It was me! Howland declared to the Prince and his men, I was the knight!

Lyanna rested her chin on her knees. The gown continued to prick away, pinching and scratching at her. I wanted to teach those squires respect, but I was the one taught the lasting lesson.

It was playing out in front of her with painful clarity. She was struck by how quickly it all came crumbling down around her. Lyanna tightened her grip around her legs, but it could not deter the shivering that went through her. The tears were cold as they trickled down her cheeks, blurring her vision.

'My father is a sick man. I've tried my best to tend to him, but this tournament has not agreed with him,' Rhaegar had sighed, ' Its pained me to watch him only worsen these past few days, and when we learned we had reason to believe that the Mystery Knight may be working for my brother.' The Crown Prince had gestured for one of his men to come forward. ' It's undone him.'

Lyanna pulled at the sleeves, the irritation only worsened. She wanted to slip it off and toss it into the fire. It was all over, threatening to consume her, these burning scratches that were reaching and hurting her in places where the gown wasn't even touching her. Make it stop! She wanted to scream into the darkness. These invisible itches that were unrelenting in their torment.

"Lyanna?"

She didn't look up, thinking it was the memory leaking through. She looked down at her arms, but saw no red marks. What's happening?

"Lyanna?" The second time the voice sounded muffled.

She stirred in her seat, facing the door just as her name was said for the third time. "Benjen?"

He took that as permission to open the door, entering before Lyanna could protest she saw his wide smile. "What is it?"

"Prince Daeron's party sent a rider ahead. They'll be here shortly and Ned's with them!"

"Truly?" Lyanna knew the hour was late, but she wasn't about to wonder or complain about her brother riding in it if it meant she'd be seeing him so soon. "We have to greet them," She was already grabbing a borrowed robe. She wiped at her cheeks when she saw Benjen's brief, but knowing look. "Have you told Ser Barristan?"

"He knows."

"Then let's go," She felt herself smiling for the first time since that morning at Harrenhal before everything changed.

"You didn't kill Howland," Ashara's tone was both comforting and assertive.

They were sitting on Lyanna's bed. The morning sun was new and bright along the blue sky.

She tried to correct her good-sister, but Ashara would not hear of it. "You didn't." She repeated, firmly.

Ned had gone to have a word with Daeron and Ashara had decided to use that time to check on her. Lyanna was thankful for her good-sister's intentions and presence. They had only arrived at the Golden Tooth a few hours ago. It had been a tearful reunion. Lyanna would not forget the relief on her brother's face when he saw her and Benjen waiting for him or the fierce embraces that followed.

"Rhaegar killed Howland," Ashara said, "Aerys killed Howland." She took Lyanna's hands in hers, "But not you."

Lyanna opened her mouth to try to argue, but thought better of it. She sighed and gave a weak nod. She wanted to believe it, but part of her couldn't. It was my fault. I dragged him into it. It was me. The tingling sensation returned. She scratched her arms, gritting her teeth.

"How was Riverrun?" Her brother and Ashara's stay in Riverrun had barely been talked about. It had been a simple mention that they had made after Ned had revealed their own harrowing escape from Harrenhal which included saving Prince Daeron from getting arrested and a bloody skirmish.

"Brief," Ashara flashed a small smile, "It was for a possible alliance."

Lyanna stiffened. The itching was forgotten at the mention of betrothals, fearing her own fate. She remembered her father had already reached out to Riverrun about a possible match between her and Lord Tully's son and heir, Edmure. Had Lord Tully decided for it? It was a disquieting thought. I'm being offered up as a sacrifice because of Brandon's dishonor.

"You are not betrothed," Ashara noticed her discomfort, "He hasn't forgiven Brandon's insult to his dearly loved daughter so I do not believe Lord Tully is interested in any future alliances between your families."

She didn't hide her relief at her good fortune which earned a small smile from her good-sister. "So what did he want?"

"He wants great matches for both his eldest daughter and for his heir," Ashara said, "He did show interest in a possible match between Catelyn and Robert."

"Oh," Lyanna felt something sink in her chest. She tried to look uninterested, but she felt her good-sister's scrutinizing gaze on her. When Lyanna looked up to meet it she saw the knowing smile on Ashara's lips. She resisted the urge to scowl. It doesn't bother me. Robert asked after me, and I said no. She tried to tell herself, If he wishes to marry Lady Catelyn then so be it. The words were hollow and were unable to numb the ache she found nestling inside her. "Are they betrothed?"

"No, they're not."

Lyanna found herself turning her head to try to hide this sudden relief upon learning there was no betrothal. The act itself was all that was needed to condemn her, but Ashara didn't comment on it. She instead was talking more about their respite in Riverrun and about the Tullys. She focused on her good-sister's voice to help distract her from certain and confusing thoughts about the Lord of Storm's End.

"Lord Tully has to be careful in whom he chooses. Some of his most powerful bannermen are already backing Prince Rhaegar," Ashara was saying, "If he supports Prince Daeron and he loses then he risks losing everything since Rhaegar will be inclined to reward a loyal riverland house with the coveted title of Lord Paramount of the Trident. I-"

The door suddenly opened, breaking their conversation. Ned was in the doorway.

"Ned, what is it?" Ashara's voice held a growing tinge of worry to it.

"Robert is riding to the Stormlands to rally his bannermen for King Daeron," He answered, "I'll be accompanying him."

She wasn't sure why she was seeking him out. Liar. The voice inside was quick to denounce.

The Golden Tooth may have been a small castle, but it was not one that Lyanna was familiar with. She walked through the corridor hoping this was the right direction. She had only stopped to get Benjen and one other thing that was now secretly tucked away. Her borrowed dress swishing below her waist. It was blue silk with a few yellow suns sewn into the dress that resembled flowers. She had to accept what was offered to her by the ladies of House Lefford even though she would've preferred borrowing from the boys and men, tunics and shirts over gowns and dresses.

"Lya," Benjen wheezed behind her. His footfalls pattered against the stone floor, trying to keep up with her pace.

She ignored him, turning left when the corridor split. This should be the right one, she hoped.

It was a dead end. A short corridor with three doors, one on the right, one on the left, and one right in front of her. It was the one in front of her she was eying. She came to a halt before she could even reach the doorknob. Her heart seemed to make a small tumble in her chest.

" Thanks for waiting," Benjen came up beside her.

Lyanna didn't respond to her brother's sarcasm. She just looked at the closed door. Her fingers fidgeting at her side. The tumbling only worsened in her chest, making her feel suddenly nauseous, but she tried to push down that unhelpful feeling.

"Lya?" Her brother snapped his fingers.

"Wait out here," She ordered, she had made up her mind and went to the door.

"What?" He called after her, "I should-" His insistence stopped when she looked over her shoulder and glared at him. "I'll wait outside," He quickly agreed.

She felt a ripple go through her when her fingers touched the doorknob. It wasn't anxiousness or nerves, but what she would call, excitement. That fluttering feeling that clings to you before doing something daring and new.

It stayed with her when she knocked and only intensified when she was permitted entrance. Lyanna took a breath preparing herself as if she was plunging into the hot springs at Winterfell. She could hear Benjen's voice and encouraging words but they seemed so far away and then the door was opening and she went in.

"Lady Lyanna?" Robert Baratheon didn't hide his surprise upon seeing that she was his unannounced guest. She assumed he was expecting a castle's servant or one of his guards. "This is unexpected." It wasn't disappointment or excitement in his tone just confusion.

Her eyes took in his appearance while her mouth remained unmoving.

He was dressed for the long ride ahead of him. He was dressed mostly in black, tunic, trousers, and riding boots. He wore an onyx pin in the shape of a stag to hold his gold colored riding cloak in place. He was tall and handsome and she could see the outlines of his muscles beneath his shirt. She felt a curl of warmth bloom inside her. "Lord Robert," she said, "My brother told me of your plans."

"Aye, many stormlords have gone to the capital," His jaw was clenched. "I swore my loyalty, my sword, and my life to my cousin, my king." He didn't settle his gaze on her. "I must go to Storm's End to rally my bannermen who've remained loyal to the Baratheons and punish those who've broken their oaths," One of his large hands closed into a fist, "I hope to make Connington my first example."

It went unsaid between them what it was that was about to happen. What him and her brother were really riding into, and all that would follow. She was still reeling from the death of her friend, Howland. Lyanna ignored the slight itch that seemed to creep up her arm. Now, I must watch my brother ride off to war. Her stomach clenched while cold tendrils of dread stirred at the thought of all she could lose.

Lyanna looked at Robert, picturing ugly streaks of red seeping into his black tunic. Slashes carved across his chest, weeping blood. Lyanna suppressed the shudder that came through her like an autumn storm.

"What about the Rock?" She found herself proposing, knowing it was foolish. Lyanna didn't want the image of that wounded and dying Robert to settle in her mind. She knew that Casterly Rock was nothing but a temporary balm to her since she knew he'd only have to eventually leave there, her brother too.

Robert shook his head. "I can't do my cousin any good at the Rock."

What about me? She almost said, but felt her courage abandon her before the words could slip past her lips.

"I'm sorry about Howland," He looked unsure if it was something he should speak of which made his apology sound awkward, but it didn't diminish his sincerity.

"Thank you," She scratched at her arm when the itching threatened to reappear. I don't deserve any apologies. I killed him. Her pain and guilt must have been plain to see given the growing concern coming over his expression. His eyes were so blue and she saw the fondness lurking beneath them, which only fanned the warmth inside her.

"I heard you may be betrothed," Lyanna felt the rough strip of wool pressing against her arm, hidden beneath the blue sleeves of her dress.

"Yes, to Lady Catelyn, I've spoken to Lord Tully about it," There was an odd note in his voice.

"But you can't," She blurted out in protest, "Because you're already betrothed," She didn't hesitate, "To me."

He frowned. He was watching her warily. "I asked after you and your possible interest," He said slowly. His voice was guarded, "You said no."

She nearly winced at having it thrown back at her, but Lyanna didn't fault him or his reaction. She earned it. She wouldn't falter now. "I've reconsidered," she confessed, "If you'll have me that is."

There was only silence. It was unexpected and it made the worry grip her heart like an icy claw. The band around her arm felt like an iron shackle. The hope was draining out of her heart like an emptying pitcher. It felt like eternity waiting in front of him in those quiet seconds that followed.

It was the smile she noticed first. His blue eyes were bright and warm thawing the coldness that had tried to chain her heart. She felt her own lips begin to twitch watching him cut the distance between them and before she could react, she felt his hands around her and then she was in the air.

Flying, the laugh bubbled out of her when he lifted her off of the floor. Her protests broke into peals of laughter, finding the feeling thrilling while he spun her. Her cheeks were warm and her heart was soaring higher than she was. Lyanna looked down at the man she wished to marry, his eyes were sparkling while a smile was dancing on his lips.

"Lya?" Benjen stuck his head inside, puncturing the blissful mood that had enveloped her and Robert.

"Benjen!" She was swiftly put down much to her disappointment and annoyance. "Happy?" Lyanna didn't wait for her brother's answer before going to the door, pushing herself against it. Ignoring Benjen's sputtering before his head slipped out and the door closed behind her. She leaned against it, trying to catch her breath.

"I will write to your father," Robert said, returning to the proper show of decorum after her brother's untimely interruption.

"I will too," She was certain he would accept. I want to marry him, Father, she'd write, words she hadn't thought to ever write or say when she had first met the man in front of her, but he had surprised her. He had shown her a life she didn't think she'd have as a lord's wife. He offered her respect and freedom, when she had so long feared marriage could only restrain her.

"Robert, from what I said before-"

"I understand," He held up a hand to stop her, "I won't let any Storms come between us." He swore earnestly.

She nodded, finding herself wanting to believe him with all of her being, "Please, Robert, I know it can be dismissed, but it would hurt me too much," She confessed, seeing his expression beginning to crack at the tremor in her tone. "I-I," Her fears halted when she felt his large, calloused hands enclose around hers.

"I am yours," His voice was a quiet rumble like the sound of distant thunder. "I am yours."

"You are mine," She found herself repeating the sentiment, believing him. "I have something," Her hands reluctantly slipped from his grip. She went to her arm where it was hidden and tied. "It isn't much," She wanted to prepare him before she opened her hand to show it to him.

It was a rough strip of fabric. It was dirty and grey wool. She had crudely and hastily ripped it from her old tunic. The one she had been wearing when Ser Barristan found her and Benjen and every day since until they arrived at the Golden Tooth. It was the only Stark colored garment she had since everything else she brought was left behind at Harrenhal. "It's nothing really."

He took it from her hand, admiring it as if it was spun from gold. "No, my lady. This means everything."


CREATORS' THOUGHTS
DravenShadefall DravenShadefall

Curious to see what Daeron does next? You can get a head start on Daeron the Defiant: A Second Dance of Dragons by checking out the early chapters on my Website at https://dravenshadefall-shop.fourthwall.com

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