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Post by FieldMarshal Bismarck on May 15, 2023 15:16:37 GMT -5
A cold and Northern place
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 15, 2023 2:42:06 GMT -5
Lyanna is summoned south to be by her husband’s side; he details that their marriage is to be announced to the entire realm upon her arrival.
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Post by Magnate Lucius on Jun 15, 2023 8:29:47 GMT -5
Arthur, who followed Eddard and Lyanna, as well as the infant, Aemon, to the North, could easily be found stationed outside the bedroom which the Lord Paramount's sister occupied. As per his duties, he made sure food was tasted and examined, drink sipped upon, and so forth. All done to keep secure the one who Rhaegar loved and the child that they brought into this world. When the raven note was brought to him, he requested entry to speak with Lyanna.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 15, 2023 10:29:43 GMT -5
Lyanna had found the constant company of Ser Arthur an unwelcome reminder of what awaited her in the south, and she soon discretely became adept at avoiding him at every given opportunity.
Often she would leave the baby in the care of the nursemaids while she went galloping off into the Wolfswood, hunting and hawking with Benjen. Or she would follow Ned, or Lord Eddard as everyone now loftily called him, in visiting their father’s old bannermen. She had feasted with the Glovers and Cerwyns, drank with the Umbers, wrestled with the Mormont women. Morgan Liddle had even asked for her hand, as had a dozen others, all courteously denied. Smooth Dornish silks had been swapped for fur and dyed wool, and she wore a sword at her hip now that Father was no longer around to say otherwise.
That morning, though, Ser Arthur had risen before her. Rising from her bed, she grunted in acceptance to the Sword of the Morning’s entry, though she was still wild-haired and in smallclothes.
”Ser Arthur.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes with the back of a pale hand. ”You have a good reason for waking me, I hope?”
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Post by Magnate Lucius on Jun 15, 2023 10:34:30 GMT -5
Arthur bowed his head to Lyanna as she awoke.
A raven has arrived from the South, Lady Stark.
He brings the rolled parchment to her hands, mindful of the infant Aemon was likely asleep at this time.
His Grace, King Rhaegar, the First of His Name, desires your return to court. He desires you and his son to be at his side now more than ever. Your marriage is to be officiated and made public upon your arrival.
Afterward, having learned too of what happened, Arthur informs the Lady on what has happened to King’s Landing and the death of the Mad King. She had done her best to avoid him, going so far as to interact with everyone else but him, so this was the best time to inform her of what has occurred in the South.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 15, 2023 10:43:40 GMT -5
At the news of the capital, her misty eyes slowly widened in shock.
”May Aerys rot in all the Seven Hells.” She gently took the parchment in her hands and skimmed over it. Rhaegar’s words were flowers, pretty and sweet; he had even penned a poem underneath. She feigned a look of ambivalence as she tossed it aside to splash some water onto her face.
”I have no wish to be his queen.” Though that was what she had chosen, one way or the other. It was an effort to keep her voice hard. ”He already has a queen to sit by his side and look pretty.” It came out harsher than intended. Lyanna held no hatred for Elia, but a tinge of envy burned in her for the children they already shared.
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Post by Magnate Lucius on Jun 15, 2023 16:00:40 GMT -5
Arthur stays where he was originally, watching as Lyanna moved about the room. He looks outside, seeing the snow just about everywhere it seemed. A total difference from the sands and heat of his Dornish homeland. He noticed that the Lady Stark was trying to put on a tough front. Maybe just to protect herself? Hard to say. Arthur wasn't a good judge of women.
Whether you want to be his queen or not, there is something that you both need.
Ser Dayne speaks.
Each other. His Grace has not seen you since he left the Tower of Joy nor has he had the chance to hold his son, the Prince Aemon.
Arthur glances over at the crib where the infant was asleep.
He needs you now more than ever. Aemon and you, Lady Stark.
The Dayne rests his hand lightly upon Dawn as he remained idle in his stance.
We shouldn't keep him waiting though. You may not wish to be his queen, but the King certainly wants you at his side.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 16, 2023 4:36:50 GMT -5
”Keep him waiting?” She bristled, laugh laced with mockery as she stood to be dressed by the servants. She did not wait for Dayne to turn around before having the shift pulled over her head, and for a moment she stood there with her hands on her hips, as indignant and naked as the day she was born. The maids blushed on their ladies’ behalf, and scurried to cover their mistress with her usual woollen doublet and riding breeches.
”Where was he, when I needed him?” She said softly, following Dayne’s gaze over to the crib, and the steel in her eyes softened. The boy seemed to sleep through everything. It came as a surprise to her when Wylla had insisted that not all children were so easy. The Tower seemed so long ago, and yet the memories remained raw and fresh. It was not a place of joy for her, spending those long days wondering from one night to the next whether her husband was alive or dead, or if she would have to bury a second brother.
”The city is no more, you said.” Lyanna fastened the clasp of a sable cloak around her throat as she changed the subject, looking at Arthur directly. ”So where do we go?”
”
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Post by Magnate Lucius on Jun 16, 2023 10:44:00 GMT -5
Arthur kept a straight face through it all. His eyes focused solely upon the Lady Stark's own gaze.
My Lady, where he was was ensuring that Prince Aemon, and yourself, could enjoy peace one day.
A frown appearing upon his face as, while he did not understand her pain, he still understood her words. Many a day, Lyanna looked north, through the pregnancy and after, awaiting the return of Rhaegar. In the end, it was Eddard who was sent to retrieve her and not the Prince, now King, himself. Certainly that must have hurt her.
Once you are reunited, surely, it will feel like Spring once more.
Arthur bows his head to Lyanna before raising it to answer her question.
The quickest route would be to ride for White Harbor and take a ship south, past the Vale of Arryn. Either land at Maidenpool and continue south along the Kingsroad or head into the Blackwater Bay and likely land at King's Landing or Duskendale.
With King's Landing in ruin though, would it be safe for Lyanna and the infant Aemon?
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 16, 2023 10:53:17 GMT -5
Winter is coming. Winter was always coming. It was only now that she truly understood what it meant.
”But there is no King’s Landing.” Lyanna frowned impatiently, irritated. ”So we sail for Dragonstone.”
As her ladies readied the child, Lyanna brushed past Arthur into the hall.
”I will tell my brother of my leaving.” She said, resigned. The idea of going south did not excite her. Southerners were strange, even the ones she liked. She fixed him with a steely glare and wagged a finger at him admonishingly. ”He will have your head if we sneak off into the morning with nothing but a few ladies to take us to White Harbour.”
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Post by Magnate Lucius on Jun 16, 2023 10:56:25 GMT -5
Ser Arthur smiles at the remark of her brother.
I would never think to leave without informing Lord Stark and ensuring we have a proper guard.
Ser Dayne estimated that they would be given a complement of around a hundred to two hundred persons; hardy Northmen guards and reliable ladies-in-waiting along with servants.
If you like, Lady Stark, I can go and speak to him about this news while you tend to Prince Aemon this morning.
She already had enough on her plate with being a mother, so the Kingsguard knight offered to be of help where he could.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 19, 2023 12:38:47 GMT -5
”We will both go. My ladies can look after the babe.”
Replied Lyanna, already halfway down the hall to find Eddard.
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Post by FieldMarshal Bismarck on Jun 19, 2023 15:24:32 GMT -5
The godswood of Winterfell enveloped me in a sense of tranquility as I knelt before the towering heart tree. Its ancient presence cast a solemn aura, its face etched with the wisdom and watchfulness of the old gods. The familiar scent of the woods mingled with the gentle rustle of leaves, offering a comforting embrace.
In my hands, I held Ice, the greatsword of House Stark, passed down through generations. Its blade, honed and polished to perfection, reflected the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. As I diligently ran the cloth along the steel, removing any specks of dirt or imperfections, a soothing rhythm filled the silence.
I found solace in this simple act, a respite from the weight of responsibilities that burdened me as Lord of Winterfell. The sword was more than a weapon; it was a symbol of our ancestral legacy, a reminder of the strength and honor that defined House Stark. Each stroke of the cloth was a silent vow to protect and uphold our traditions.
The godswood was a sacred space, a haven where I could seek counsel and guidance from the old gods. They had witnessed the trials and triumphs of our ancestors, their wisdom echoing through the whispering leaves. Here, amidst the ancient trees, I could shed the burdens of leadership and find clarity in the quietude.
As I meticulously polished Ice, my thoughts wandered to the council that awaited me. The North was at a turning point, and it was my duty to ensure its prosperity and security. Winterfell had endured through countless generations, weathering storms and standing strong. Now, I sought to rally our loyal lords and devise a plan that would make our realm the mightiest in the Seven Kingdoms.
I could not ignore the events unfolding beyond our borders. News of King's Landing's destruction, consumed by wildfire, had reached my ears. Rhaegar Targaryen sat upon the Iron Throne, and the realm was reshaping itself in the aftermath. The time had come for the North to assert its strength, to forge alliances and secure our position in this changing landscape.
In the godswood, amidst the hallowed silence, I felt the weight of history upon my shoulders. I had learned from the lessons of the past, the mistakes and triumphs of those who came before me. Now, it was my turn to guide our house, to safeguard the North, and to ensure that our legacy would endure.
As the light caressed Ice, casting a glimmering reflection, I rose from my kneeling position. With purpose in my stride, I made my way back to Winterfell, resolved to call forth the council that would shape the future of the North. It was time to gather our loyal lords, to inspire them with a vision of unity and strength, and to chart a course that would make the name Stark revered throughout the realm once more. As I regain my composure within the godswood Lyanna and Ser Arthur Dayne approuch me. They can only bring bad news I think to myself.
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Post by Gandalf on Jun 19, 2023 17:14:45 GMT -5
A pang of regret twisted in Lyanna’s stomach as she passed under the crimson leaves of the Godswood. It only grew stronger when she found Ned kneeling by the great heart tree, their father’s blade in his hands. Those weeping eyes of red watched him run a cloth along the black ripples; he had killed a man this morning, then. There was no other reason to clean Valyrian Steel, that never rusted or dulled in edge.
”I thought I might find you here.” All the trees were in bloom, now. Even the snows had melted. Summer was truly here, and the garden was a place of colour once again. This had been a place of joy, once. She remembered giggling after kissing Willam Dustin in the hot pools before dunking him under, and hunting squirrels in the pines with Brandon. But the garden brought no joy any longer. This has been her father’s place. Lord Rickard had sat before the Heart Tree for long hours here after their mother died, seeming to stare silently at the face carved into the bleached bark. Ned wore that same solemn look, dignified and austere. It was the face their father now wore in his tomb, encased forever in stone with Brandon by his side.
”I leave for Dragonstone today, Ned, by way of White Harbour.” She said matter of factly, grey eyes seeming sad.
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Post by Magnate Lucius on Jun 19, 2023 19:25:32 GMT -5
Arthur kept a respective distance from the brother and sister, watching them and even glancing at the weirwood tree. A similar one was in King's Landing, representing the Old Gods, just as the Sept represented the new ones. Ser Dayne wondered if the tree had been protected by the fierce wildfire that destroyed the capital... it was quite ancient after all, planted during the reign of the Conqueror. Arthur would then refocus on Lord Stark and his sister, ready to speak if address. If not, nonetheless, he had a sworn duty to protect and watch over the most beloved of his King.
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