Chapitre 27: Chapter 27: Secrets
Cersei:
I shouldn't be too early.
Cersei was walking through the Red Keep towards the chambers of Princess Laela. Her future good sister had invited her for a luncheon.
If I did not leave then, she looked down to make sure her dress wasn't ruffled. She ran her hand over the red silk just to be sure. I never would've left. She smiled at her betrothed's skills of persuasion.
When she had told him of the invite he had extended his own offer.
She felt the heat pool in her belly remembering the feel of his lips on hers. His fingers going through her hair. His other hand holding her close and steady to him. Sadly, they had been interrupted.
We're always interrupted. She sighed at the frustration of being so close to him, of feeling his heart beneath her fingers, her mouth on his, only for it to be tugged away in an instant. It was cruel to be denied what was soon to be hers.
One flesh. One heart. One soul.
Soon, she reminded herself to stem the disappointment that bubbled up.
It was the sound of voices that brought her attention back to the corridor she was walking in. She was close to the Princess' chambers. She just had to turn the corner and they'd be at the end of the new corridor.
"Princess Laela set it for the top of the hour," the first voice said, "We still have some time."
"That is good," the second voice responded. "I still don't understand why she's doing this."
The voices were both female.
Cersei went into the nearby alcove to insure she couldn't be seen. Her curiosity had her slide into its shadow and listen.
She was able to put names to the voices. They were Jeyne Whent and Leyla Hightower, two of Princess Laela's ladies-in-waitings. Jeyne was the second voice, she was Lord Walter Whent's only daughter and Leyla was one of the daughters of Lord Leyton Hightower.
"It seems pointless," Jeyne added when Leyla didn't respond right away.
"No, it isn't."
"Yes, it is," Jeyne insisted, "She told us so."
"She did say Prince Rhaegar would handle it," Leyla conceded, "But she still needs to appear as if its still going to happen."
"But it's not," Jeyne giggled, "And neither know it."
Cersei stayed where she stood. Her back pressed against the wall.
"Be quiet," Leyla hushed her. Their footfalls were getting closer.
"Why?" Jeyne didn't sound like she had a care in the world. "I can't help but laugh," which she then did. "Father always said the Lannisters were too proud."
"It will be amusing, but you mustn't babble so much."
"Now you sound like Elbert," Jeyne teased, she must've hit a nerve since she was giggling again. "You did see him when he was here."
There was a pause with the only sound being their soft footsteps.
"I did," Leyla said reluctantly, "but your uncle interrupted us," She said while Jeyne continued to giggle at her friend's expense.
"Mayhaps, you should thank my Uncle Oswell," Jeyne replied, "Why would your father approve of such a match?"
Leyla huffed. "The prince-" She stopped herself, "Never mind," She sounded frustrated, "You've turned me into a gossip almost as bad as you."
Cersei saw their shadows before she saw them and she stilled, holding her breath just as they came into view. The two women walked right past her. They were too distracted with their own conversation to even glance in Cersei's direction.
Jeyne laughed. She sounded delighted and not insulted at the accusation. "Princess Laela has already excused me from attending the luncheon." They turned and were now going down the corridor that led to the Princess' chambers. Their voices became more distant.
"You are fortunate," Leyla grumbled, "I do not look forward to a meal with Lady Cersei."
Jeyne took no pity on her friend. "The perks of being a giggling gossip as you've often called me."
Cersei eased herself out of the alcove, staying close to the wall. She needed to hear more.
"I suppose the Princess is right to worry that you'll ruin it," Leyla sounded resigned.
"How can I not?" Jeyne asked her, "To sit there and smile and bob my head when she excitedly talks about Prince Daeron," Jeyne's tone was mocking, "All the while never knowing that their betroth-" Jeyne's voice was muffled. It sounded as if Leyla had clapped her hand over her friend's mouth.
"Be quiet," Leyla hissed. Their voices then faded away all together when they entered the bed chambers of Princess Laela before closing the door behind them.
Cersei woke with a start. She was no longer standing in that alcove in the corridor of the Red Keep. She was back in her guest chambers at Storm's End. She pushed back the covers, her hands were shaking, but it had nothing to do with the slight chill in the air.
She padded across the room to the basin of water that the servants had placed for her the night before. The windows within the castle were mostly thin slits which meant little light was able to shine through, and the moonbeams that did cast her room in shadows that reminded her of the bars of a cell.
Cersei dipped her hands into the cool water. She pooled some of it and leaned down before splashing her face with the water. It was brief, but refreshing. The droplets of water trickling down her face. Her hands were still shaking when she put them in again to repeat it. The water felt colder this time, falling down her cheeks like tears.
She dabbed at her face before sitting down at the table. Cersei was pleased to see the bottle of wine she requested was there waiting. Her hands were no longer shaking when she poured herself a glass of the Arbor Gold. She sat there in the silent, darkness of her chambers before taking her first sip. Not wanting to dwell on what woke her up, her eyes looked around the rustic furniture that the past Lords of Storm's End had placed in here for their guests.
It appeared they cared little for luxury. The chairs facing the fireplace were simply crafted with small cushions adorning the back and bottom. They were gold colored canvas with rows of black stags running along it. The hearth was small, carved out of the stone and flanking both sides of it were identical looking crowned stags. When she looked closer she realized the one on the left had one of its ears chipped off and its nose was more worn down.
Jeyne Whent's voice bled into her observations, puncturing through like daggers.
Cersei took a longer sip. She hadn't needed them to finish to understand what they were saying. She had heard enough.
They're trying to prevent my marriage to Daeron.
She could see Jeyne's smirking face flickering before her, laughing at her, mocking her.
Did you really think you could marry him?
Yes, She answered, I will marry him.
She could still remember her anger at hearing those simpering fools. At how they mocked and giggled at her family's name and at her. Cersei had wanted to dash out of the shadows like a lioness stalking her prey to show them what happened when one so stupidly crossed a predator.
Cersei had restrained herself and then had to endure that horrid luncheon with Princess Laela. Who smiled and complimented her, talking about how excited she was that they'd soon be good-sisters and Cersei would be Aegon's Aunt.
Quite the performance, Cersei had wanted to reach across the table and strangle the princess. You dare try to take Daeron from me? She'd hiss when the girl's face would turn purple beneath her grip. Instead, she was forced to play along to this little act that Princess Laela was performing.
They truly think to cleave me from him? Her heart lurched, the fear and anger weaving tightly with one another in her belly. It was all she could do not to sob or scream. It was such a terrible burden to endure these past few weeks since she learned of it.
For her to pretend that her betrothal wasn't being threatened by those who should not meddle. That there were schemes trying to sever her from the man she loved…
Love, The word had come to her so quickly she nearly overlooked it. Cersei thought it with such certainty that its revelation was almost forgotten.
Love. She said it again, tasting the word. It was sweeter than any wine. She felt the heat filling her heart. The smile that was so quick to come to her lips when she thought about him. Yes, she was almost dizzy with giddiness in seeing the truth in her declaration.
This was love, but she knew it wasn't all giddy smiles, there was an intense devotion . A fierceness that was stronger than any lion. It made her heart rage and pound like a storm churning in her chest at them thinking they could divide her from Daeron.
He is mine. I am his. Those were the words. And cursed be they who would seek to tear them asunder.
Cersei couldn't show any of her pain, and none of her wrath. It was even more challenging to hide it from him. She feared what he thought of her in her lapses of silence or solemness. How distracted she had been, how forceful her smiles were when all she wanted to do was kiss and embrace him.
I will tell him. She had vowed, but the time was never given to her. Upon leaving the capital for the Stormlands they were set on by brigands. He was then given the orders to ride into the Kingswood and dispatch this band of rogues and thieves.
He's here now, She perked up in her seat. The hour was late, but he was back.
He and the others had arrived just today where Robert threw a feast to celebrate and amidst the music and laughter, she pressed herself to him in their dancing and her hand clasped tightly to his while they ate. How tempted she was to lean across to him to tell him what she heard, but she could not risk it. It was clear Rhaegar had his friends well concealed. If he was tipped then he'd surely hasten them and she wouldn't have time to stop them.
He'd take him from me, Cersei sipped the rest of her glass, but the Arbor Gold did not taste as sweet when the idea of her and Daeron's betrothal being broken played across her mind and all but trampled across her heart.
She really thinks she'll marry the Prince. Jeyne's voice was ringing in her ears.
Cersei hurled the glass against the stone wall with a quiet roar. It shattered when it hit the stone, glass shards raining down onto the floor, glimmering when they caught the orange glow of the flames.
She took some satisfaction in imagining it was Jeyne's face when she threw the glass and that it hit that ditzy girl right in her freckled face. She nearly smiled, but she didn't.
Cersei moved across her room where her robe had been placed before she had gone to sleep. She slipped it on with her mind made up. She tightened the silky string to keep her robe securely to her and to conceal what her lacy shift did not. Cersei was aware of the potential scandal of her being caught, but she had no choice.
I won't wait any more.
The door opened with barely a sound. Cersei peered out into the corridor to see the torches were lit. There were no guards in sight. They mostly stood at the entrances and exits of the guest wings. They also would perform random patrol throughout the night to insure everything and everyone was safe and secure.
Before she could change her mind she slipped between the small gap she had made and carefully closed it behind her. She needed no lantern since the torches illuminated her way. Cersei did not think he'd have guards outside, but the thought that they might be there did cause her to slow her steps. She felt the caution trying to tether her to her room, to try to tug her back.
No, Cersei kept walking. When else will I have the time and the quiet to speak to him? No answer was forthcoming. I will dream no more of Jeyne's mockery and Leyla's scorn. She needed to tell him.
Help me with this burden, tell me that they cannot do it. That you won't let them.
Cersei had wanted to tell her father, but there had been no time. She overheard of it the day before they left the capital and he was busy ruling the Seven Kingdoms. She knew she could press to get him privately, but she feared that would get back to Rhaegar and his friends.
Will he suspect that I know if I suddenly demand my father's presence, alone? She didn't know so she decided against it. She'd tell him when they returned from the Stormlands after they inspected Summerhall, her castle with Daeron.
Jeyne's giggling echoed inside her head. There is no marriage. There will be no castle.
There will be no more tongue wagging, Cersei growled. She wanted to show Jeyne the folly of her disrespect and arrogance. I'll make the bards write a new song, Cersei felt the faint traces of a smile on her lips, Afterall, Jeyne does rhyme with pain…
His door was in sight and she let out a relieved breath to see it was unattended. There were no pale cloaks of the Kingsguard or the familiar sight of the Targaryen dragon that the men-at-arms wear. She quickly covered the distance not wanting to try her luck. One hand was pressed against the door, the other on the handle but she hesitated.
It was a bad time for the doubt to return. What will I say to excuse my nightly intrusion? What will I see?
She felt the heat creep into her face. That temptation was present. It grew with each day just as much as their frustration everytime they were caught. Now, we'd be alone…
Cersei tempered it. She would not risk her love of him if their betrothal was set aside because of her lust for him. Before she could change her mind she opened the door.
"Cersei?"
"Daeron," She had all but a quick glimpse around the room before her eyes found him sitting by a chair near the fireplace. Surprised by her very late and unannounced visit, he stood up to greet her. He was surprisingly decently dressed, she ignored the slight pang of disappointment. He was wearing a loose black tunic and breeches. In front of him was a plate of food and a tankard.
"I need to talk to you." She felt better already when his hand was on her back.
"Very well," He led her to the chair beside him. He was more calm then she expected at her barging in on him at this late hour. "Are you well?"
No, "Yes." She could feel the cool air caressing her bare legs. When she sat down the fabric of her robe hitched up slightly. She was quick to adjust it, but not before feeling his eyes on her. She looked up to see his surprise had melted into admiration. She felt herself flush beneath his heated gaze.
He abruptly cleared his throat and then looked away as if to stem his own wicked thoughts and lust. "What is it you need to talk about?"
She answered after a short pause. "I've been meaning to tell you for awhile."
"I see," he distracted himself with the food on his plate. He took a loud bite of his apple. "I was hungry," He sensed her unasked question, "And the kitchens are never closed to a prince," He flashed her a grin to explain why he was still up at this hour, dressed and eating as if it was he was having an early supper.
He offered her his plate which had some grapes, berries, bread, and a bit of beef. It hardly looked like a meal for a prince.
She picked up a few grapes and nodded her thanks.
"Is this why you've been," He tried to find the right word to delicately explain her behavior.
"Yes," She confirmed, "and I'm sorry for that." Her fingers felt clumsy in her lap and the grapes were threatening to spill out of her grip. She could feel his stare, but a part of her didn't want to meet it, afraid of the disappointment she might see or worse, the hurt, his hurt.
"I wanted to tell you," She continued. "I wanted to tell you as soon as I heard," she confessed, still not looking up, and hating herself for this cowardice. I am better than this. I am a Lannister, but her eyes remained on the grapes in her hand. "But I couldn't, because I didn't have a chance to truly speak with you alone since we left the capital."
"So here you are," There was amusement in his voice, "At my chambers during the hour of the bat? Or is it the eel? I'm not certain."
She wasn't either. "Yes, here I am." Cersei finally looked up to see his beautiful eyes were on her. To her relief there was no disappointment or hurt in his gaze. She had always loved them even when she was foolishly smitten with Rhaegar.
"It is about your brother."
His face darkened and her own mood followed with it dampening her temptations.
"Rhaegar?" His tone had changed just as quickly.
"Yes," She confirmed, and then she told him everything she overheard that day between Jeyne Whent and Leyla Hightower.
"Damn him," Daeron snarled when she had finished. He was pacing in front of her. "Damn his plots," He cursed, "and damn his prophecies."
She was not sure she had ever seen him so angry before. His hands were at his sides where he flexed his fingers into a fist and then unclench them again and again. "I hate him," He paused to turn in her, his face softened when their eyes met. "If he thinks I'd let him come between us." He shook his head, "Then he's a bigger fool than I thought."
Cersei took pleasure in his passion for her, for them. He fights for me just as fiercely. "What will you do?"
"I don't know," He frowned, "If we were to get married sooner, would Rhaegar actually leave us be?"
They both knew the answer, but neither said it aloud: The fear that this could just be the beginning.
Daeron walked over to his bed where he sat down on its edge and sighed.
She followed him, disheartened by his change. He suddenly looked so weary. She could still see the anger with how his body tensed and his clenched jaw, but there was more to his appearance that she didn't want to see, because it hurt to see. Her chest tightened. "Daeron?" She said his name softly, "what is it?"
He didn't answer.
She said his name again, but his body didn't even stir and she wondered if he even heard her. She crouched in front of him, clasping her hands in his.
He looked down at her then. "I hate him."
"I know," she said soothingly.
It had been a story she slowly learned from him. It was given to her piece by piece the life he lived in the Red Keep. How his brother ignored him while his father confused and frightened him.
Aerys would charm him one morning and then curse him at supper. He'd embrace him and call him son, but then an hour would pass in which he'd threaten to have him sent to the Black Cells. That was no life for a child. His father's delusions and outbursts poisoned Daeron's confidence and Rhaegar destroyed what was left.
He couldn't see who he truly was, she suspected when he saw himself in the looking glass, he saw that frightened, lonely boy, but he wasn't that. If only he could see what she saw when she looked at him. That was a man who would be a great king.
"I'd do anything for you, for us."
"I know," She felt the intensity in his stare. The sincerity in his tone filled her with such warmth. "And that's why I love you." She finished her declaration by kissing him, wanting to put everything she felt about him into it so that he could understand how much he meant to her.
They fell backwards onto his bed. They never let go of each other.
Lyanna:
"My brother has the worst timing," Lyanna grumbled.
Robert had interrupted her long awaited sparring session with Cersei to tell her that her brother was looking for her. She had wanted to ignore it because she'd rather fight, but she saw the seriousness in Robert's expression realizing this wasn't something she could ignore so she reluctantly left the training yard and followed Robert.
"The spar was over."
She frowned. "What do you mean?" She thought back to it. Lyanna had thought she was doing rather well against her.
Robert's chuckling told her differently. "The Lady Cersei was poised to parry that strike you do," He then mimicked it as if he was wielding an invisible sword, "which would free her to then disarm and defeat you." He then proceeded to show said moves that would've led to Lyanna's loss.
Her pride rankled at how he said it so simply and with such confidence.
"You rely too much on-"
"Well," She cut him off, feeling flustered and annoyed by how he talked about her fighting, "I didn't know you were the master-at-arms of the castle as well as its lord." She chided herself as soon as she said it, hearing how childish she sounded.
"Peace, Lyanna," He held up his arms as if he was the one yielding to her in a spar. "I imagine you train with Benjen?" At her nod, he continued, "A good lad, but he is not Prince Daeron," he consoled her. "There's no shame in defeat."
She wasn't sure why he was being so kind to her. She didn't deserve it especially with how she had just been so snide to him. "Thank you," She told him, trying her best not to mumble. "And I'm sorry," she added, "You were trying to help me and I was being-"
He snorted before she could finish, but instead of feeling annoyed, she felt her lips betray her by curving upwards. He was very confusing and charming, and infuriating. That's what she decided. As well as not wanting to think about it or him any further.
"Do you know why the Tullys left?"
"No."
The unusual part was not them leaving since they were not the first to do so. Lord Jon Arryn had already departed Storm's End. He left a little less than a week ago right after the Prince's party had returned from their victory over the Kingswood Brotherhood.
The Tullys' departure had been different. There's was so strange and sudden. They had abruptly left two days ago. She heard a servant saying the Blackfish had received a rider. Whatever message that had been delivered had caused him to order their party to pack and leave at once.
Lyanna had missed most of the excitement. All she was able to see was the Tully banners billowing in the afternoon breeze when their carriage and riders left Storm's End.
"Does anyone know why they left?"
"The Tullys," He answered dryly.
She rolled her eyes. Lyanna was unsure why the Lord of Storm's End had decided to play messenger for her brother. "Why did you come get me? Don't you have actual Lordship duties to attend to?" She gestured to the very castle they were walking into.
"I have Maester Cressen tend to most of it," He said it as if it was normal for a Lord Paramount to shirk all his duties and place them on his maester's shoulders, "I have Stannis too."
"And that leaves you to escort me?"
"It does," He didn't quite meet her gaze when he added. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Oh?" His tone was different. There was none of that mirth or confidence or charm that he seemed to carry with him as effortlessly as his warhammer. It reminded her of the conversation she had had with him in the godswood before he rode out with Ned and the others to handle the Kingswood Brotherhood.
She had seen a different Robert then the one she was used to. Lyanna had found it more disarming than his easy charm and quick smiles. It had confused her. He had spoken to her about things that she doubted he ever said to Ned or Prince Daeron.
"Yes, I wanted to ask you something."
"What?" She was acutely aware of her growing heartbeat.
"I wanted your permission to write to you."
"My permission?" She blinked.
"Yes," He answered, "If you were to give it, I'd then of course write to your father and ask," He was speaking as if he thought he needed to explain it all to her, "and if he gave it then I'd hope to write to you."
"But you asked me first?"
He hesitated. "Not entirely," He gave her a sideways glance. "I talked to Ashara first."
"Ned's wife?" That wasn't the answer she was expecting.
"Yeah, I thought she'd be a wise and needed ally in case you said yes and then Ned found out."
"Ah," She was smiling knowing that he was right. Ashara could easily handle her brother and his moods. Lyanna was certain he'd be experiencing several if or when he found out that Robert asked to write to her.
She still didn't answer him. She couldn't help it. She was too curious. She wanted to know more. She had to. "What would you want to write about?"
"Embroidery tips?"
"Fool," she nudged his arm, but it was like a kitten pawing at a bear. It wasn't threatening, just amusing. It made her realize the plain differences between them, of how tall and big he was and how easily she could get lost in his shadow with her small and lean frame.
Robert's laugh sounded like the distant rumble of thunder. "I'd have you write of your riding in the Wolfswood. I'd hear how your sparring with Benjen was going. You know," he shrugged, unsure how to make it any plainer, "Things worth writing about."
"And you?" She didn't hate the idea of telling him about her riding or her fighting.
"I'd write to you of home," He answered, "I'd tell you of all the sights you haven't seen here in the Stormlands, and there are many." He sounded so proud of the land he ruled even if he didn't take the time to actually try to rule it. "It's a pity that you cannot see them."
"So I have to trust your skill with a quill?" She found herself teasing.
Robert chuckled. "I'm afraid you'd do."
They were climbing the tower of Storm's End. With a few more steps they'd be on the guest chambers floor where she and her family were staying.
"And," She paused to ask it even though she already knew the answer, "Why would you want to write to me?"
They reached the guest wing and the two Baratheon guards on duties. They dipped their heads and opened the doors for them. They walked in without speaking, and she glanced in his direction to see his expression had none of his confidence or self assurance.
He actually looks a little nervous. It was surprising. She almost found it endearing.
"I'd wish for you to be my wife, Lyanna," He said bluntly. "I'd want the honor of it and all the other blessings that would come with our marriage."
"Like finally being Ned's brother?" Perhaps it was wrong for it to be the first thing to say to him upon his declaration, but it had to be said. It lurked in the shadows of her mind, she wasn't a fool. She knew how much Robert loved him. Now, by marrying her he got to have what he always seemed to want, the chance to be Ned's actual brother.
He frowned. She couldn't tell for certain, but she thought he looked insulted? Surprised? There were warring emotions on his face while his blue eyes looked distant and distracted by other thoughts or feelings.
"If you think that is why I truly wish to marry you," he said slowly. "Then I will rescind the question now and we'll not speak of this again," He actually sounded wounded.
"Robert, I'm," She didn't know what to say. This was all so strange, but yet so familiar. It was expected and unexpected. Lyanna knew this was to be her fate.
They were chains she struggled with since she was old enough to understand what a marriage would mean for her. It wasn't just about leaving behind her home and family at Winterfell, or losing her name, it was about having to go somewhere else to be with someone else, and to be entirely dependent on him.
It was a feeling she didn't want. Lyanna didn't care if that was how it was done it didn't make it any less unfair in her mind. The husband would have none of the same restraints. He was allowed to continue his dalliances, to spill his seed to any woman who caught his fancy. She'd be this man's doll, his toy for him to control and the thought made her stomach clench and anger to flood her chest.
They want my hand, my name, and my womb. They'd ignore the rest. Or worse, try to shear the parts of her that they didn't like. Lyanna felt something swell in her throat. They'd keep me in their castle, my every step would be monitored. The future played out in front of her and she saw how helpless she was to be controlled by a husband.
Robert hadn't tried to press her. He left her alone so she could think. Even when they reached her brother's chambers.
She was surprised to feel that a part of her wanted to think he'd be different then those sorts of husbands. He wouldn't be like the nightmares of the fat and vicious lords with grubby hands, leering at her, while she was shackled to his seat. Lyanna wanted to believe it, but she couldn't ignore what else she saw and knew of him.
Robert was lazy and uncaring about ruling or running a household. He already had one bastard girl, was she foolish enough to think it would be his last. If he was writing to her at Winterfell about how he missed her company would he send that letter before sending for a woman to warm his bed?
Her stomach twisted painfully. She couldn't bear it.
Lyanna Stark knew it was foolish to want something different, to expect something different in her marriage but it still couldn't stop her from feeling it.
"How many storms will come between us, Robert?" She asked, "I-I don't wish to share my husband, as foolish as that sounds," she let out a humorless laugh, perfectly aware of the role she was supposed to play. "Your reputation is well known."
He winced, but he didn't protest any of it.
"Could you do that, Robert?" She asked quietly.
He looked poised to give an immediate answer but then he stopped himself. "I-I," He was frowning, it was after another few beats of silence did he finish, "I don't know."
Lyanna appreciated his honesty, but she still walked away.
"Then you have my answer," She didn't look back, and left the Lord of Storm's End where he stood to slip into her brother's room.
The first thing she saw when she entered was Ned's new banner that was hanging proudly above the hearth. It was of a white wolf running along a black field with an equally white star streaking across the black sky.
After admiring the standard she turned her attention to the table where she saw the others were already gathered and waiting for her. Ashara was sitting beside Ned, but was looking at Lyanna with a knowing smile as if her violet eyes could see through wood and stone to know she had just been talking to Robert.
"The storm is coming?" Benjen said from Ned's other side. Her youngest brother had been suggesting house words for Ned and Ashara for quite awhile. The newly wedded couple had yet to decide on one.
"Thank you, Benjen," Ned stopped him before he could continue, but patted his brother on the shoulder to show his appreciation. He then turned to Lyanna, "Please join us, sister."
She did. She took the seat across from them. She detected something different in her brother's tone. It sounded tight, and he sounded tired.
"I've received a raven from father," He told them without any preamble.
"What is it?" She saw the seriousness in her brother's eyes. Ashara's hand was clasped into one of his. She spared a look at Benjen, who looked as confused as she felt.
"Brandon has married Barbrey Ryswell."
"What?" She couldn't believe it. She wanted to call this some poor jape on Brandon's part, but then she remembered the Tullys leaving Storm's End so quickly. This was why.
The wolf's blood, that was what father called it. He said Brandon had it, and that she had it too. Though when he said it then it was with wry amusement, she was certain he was cursing it now.
"This can't be true," Benjen said in dismay, "Brandon wouldn't break an oath."
She pitied her younger brother seeing him so crestfallen. He idealized Brandon and to learn that their older brother broke a betrothal to run off to marry another woman, it was difficult to accept.
"It is."
She remembered Lady Barbrey from her visits to the Rills to see Brandon. Lyanna knew he was fond of her, but she thought little of it since her brother had a way of being fond of many women. It appeared she misjudged her brother or overlooked his impulsive nature.
"That's why the Tullys left," Lyanna said aloud what she already figured out.
"Yes," Ned confirmed grimly, "Brandon has paid them a serious insult."
"He's sullied the reputation of House Stark," Benjen looked miserable.
"What does father say?" Lyanna asked.
Ned didn't answer immediately. "Father writes that he will speak with Lord Tully to see if their agreement can be amended."
"Amended?" Lyanna felt something cold slide down her back.
"Yes, Lord Tully has a son and heir," Ned answered hesitantly.
"Who's still a boy," Lyanna pointed out, "He's no older than ten."
"Then it'll be a long betrothal," Benjen said, "You should like that, Lya."
She understood he was only trying to help, but Lyanna didn't take comfort in it. He was right in that it would mean she wouldn't have to actually get married for several more years. So why aren't I happy?
"It is not certain, Lyanna," Ashara gave her a small, but reassuring smile. "There is more that needs to be said."
She gave a grateful nod to her good sister who was aware of Robert's potential offer to Lyanna. She was tempted to blurt it out right now to stop any more thoughts of her being tied to the Tully boy. Then she realized it wouldn't matter. The Tullys would still take priority because of their previous agreement with her father.
Ned's finger was tapping father's letter, "What is about to be said cannot leave this room," He warned them. "For the time being no one who is not a Stark can know of this."
"I swear," They practically said it at the same time. She and him exchanged smiles at their perfect timing.
"Brandon has been negotiating with Prince Rhaegar. The Crown Prince offered to fulfill the Pact of Ice and Fire," Ned revealed. "Brandon's future son and heir with Lady Barbrey will marry a daughter of House Targaryen."
"Did father know?" Lyanna knew how pleased he was with Ned's friendship with Prince Daeron, so she could see him being very welcoming of the potential of a future Targaryen bride. Would he chose a dragon over a trout? She didn't think he would to the detriment of their family's name, so maybe he was trying to get both, but Brandon chose differently…
"He's angry, but," He paused, rereading the letter before looking back up at her, "I don't know." He admitted with a sigh.
"It's concerning," Ashara said softly, "because there's trouble brewing in the capital between King Aerys and his oldest son, Prince Rhaegar."
"I know," Benjen said, wanting to be taken seriously even though he was the youngest. "I've heard Maester Walys talk about it with father."
"Then you know of what is being whispered," Ashara's violet eyes were solemn.
Apparently, he didn't given his reaction, but Lyanna did. There could be a potential second Dance on the horizon.
She understood it now. The tension and the trepidation that was hovering over Ned and Ashara like storm clouds. If there really was to be a second Dance, a terrifying thought onto itself, Brandon had picked a side. He aligned the North to Rhaegar Targaryen, but Ned wasn't part of the north anymore. He was a stormlord who swore his allegiance to Robert. The Lord of Storm's End would follow Prince Daeron which Ned would be expected to too. So if Prince Daeron didn't choose his brother…
Lyanna felt something cold and heavy settle in her belly at what that would mean.
My brothers could end up on opposing sides.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
AlexanderBlackfyre
AlexanderBlackfyre 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 alexanderblackfyre-shop.fourthwall.com
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
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