The New World

295AL

"Presenting to the Court, the Lady Elyanna of House Stark."

Whispers filled the room as soon as the announcement left the herald's lips. People pushed forwards and craned necks, eager to catch a glimpse of the King's new northern ward. The Princess Myrcella had been a ray of sunlight around the Red Keep, enchanting and smiling at the world around her. Would the new girl be the same? What strange northern customs had she brought down with her?

Of course, everyone knew that her father was the oldest friend of King Robert, and that the King had once been engaged to his sister, the girl's aunt. Rumours had reached the capital that the Stark girl resembled the late Lyanna Stark. Those who had known her wanted to see if it was true or not, those who had not wanted to know what she had looked like, the woman who had started it all.

Elyanna heard the whisper of one of those who must have at least seen her aunt all those years ago.

"So like Lyanna."

She stiffened. Her face going from quietly nervous to closed off in an instant. Even here, so far away from home, those words still followed.

I am not Lyanna. I am not Lyanna. I am not Lyanna. I am not Lyanna.

The words chanted over and over again inside her mind. She had long since trained herself out of saying them out loud, too many were curious as to their meaning. Where she had found restraint, the rest of the world had not. She heard several more whispers of Lyanna as she walked the path cleared between courtiers, the path that led her directly to the imposing Iron Throne.

But those who hadn't known Lyanna, what did they see?

They saw a girl, tall for her fourteen years, and not yet showing any signs of womanly curves to her figure. A long face matched her learn figure, storm-grey eyes stared out from an expressionless face, skin much paler than the tanned complexions of the south. Her hair fell in waves to her waist, so dark brown that it could almost be black. That hair, her skin, and the soft grey of her dress turned her into a monochrome figure.

Chosen to blend into the background, her outfit only made her stand out more against the bright colours favoured by southern fashion. No doubt, she could easily have been spotted had she been hiding in the midst of all the figures present, so different was her appearance and carriage of herself. She was as outlandish here as she had been at home.

But… outlandish in a different way. In spite of the whispers, few here had seen Lyanna, fewer had known her, and no one had known Elyanna. If she couldn't be free of Lyanna, at least she could be free of herself.

As she neared the Iron Throne, a hulking mass of twisted swords, the figure seated there came clearer into view. Robert Baratheon, her father's best friend, filled the chair to the point where some of the swords must have dug into him, but he showed no discomfort. Elyanna had heard tell he was a notorious drunkard, as much as her father disliked such rumours being whispered about his friend, he was too honest to deny them. He was sober now, however, and his eyes held a sharp focus to them that reminded Elyanna that he had been chosen to be King. He studied her intently as she continued to step forward, and the look in his gaze made her stomach drop.

He was looking at her with love.

He was looking at Lyanna.

The people in the room might know Lyanna little, but not this man. He had known her, he had loved her, and she had been taken from him. Was that why she was here? Not because he wanted to keep strong the ties with her father, but because he wanted some remnant of the girl he had loved back? The thought made Elyanna feel ill. She was fourteen and considered a woman ready to be married, the idea of having the King's attention made her feel scared. Perhaps she was looking too deep into things, perhaps her fear would never be realised, she certainly hoped so.

I am not Lyanna. I am not Lyanna. I am not Lyanna. I am not Lyanna. I am not Lyanna!

The herald, different to the one who had announced her at the door, stepped forward to introduce the royal family to her. The line of blonde haired people to his right would be his wife and children, while the man to his left would be Jon Arryn, his pin giving him away. He was her uncle by marriage, and probably the kindest face and only smile she had seen this day.

"Presenting His Majesty, Robert Baratheon, the first of his name. King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Her Majesty, Queen Cersei Baratheon. His Highness, Crown Prince Joffrey Baratheon. The Prince Tommen Baratheon. And Jon Arryn, Hand of the King."

Elyanna dropped into a deep courtesy that she held, keeping her eyes lowered.

"Thank you for hosting me as your ward, Your Majesty."

Her voice was soft, and slightly scratchy, she hadn't used it since conversing with Princess Myrcella at the Inn-at-the-Crossroads. That had been three weeks ago.

"Stand up, let me take a look at you."

For all that the crown didn't make him look over much like a king, Robert Baratheon had the voice of one when he commanded. So Elyanna rose, still keeping her eyes trained on the ground, not wanting to see the look on his face.

"Look at me."

Elyanna swallowed nervously, but she couldn't deny his order. Slowly, unwillingly, she raised her head. Her grey eyes never changed expression, but his blue ones widened as he drank her in.

"So like-"

Elyanna knew what he would say, and she closed her ears to it, not wanting to hear it on his lips. It felt wrong, a man who had loved her aunt comparing the pair of them. Not that Elyanna thought a man who was like a brother to her father would ever go near his daughter, and King Robert was married, but she knew in her heart that his mind was one that would never change. Whatever she did, he wouldn't see her, he only wanted Lyanna.

Suddenly leaving home didn't make her feel so free after all.

Her gaze swung to the left, away from him, and settled on his family. She was just in time to see Queen Cersei levelling a hard stare in her direction. Elyanna met her green eyes for a few moments, but was the first to drop her gaze, a mixture of guilt and fear twisting her stomach. Guilt, that she reminded this woman that her husband loved another. Fear, that Cersei's anger appeared to be so strong.

"Well, welcome to King's Landing." Robert's voice broke the silence. "This fostering will bring our two families even closer together, your father is my brother, which makes you as one of my own. Just as I'm sure Ned has made Myrcella one of his own."

"But she will always be ours." Cersei spoke for the first time, her voice was cold. "Just as Elyanna will always belong to her own family."

The meaning was clear. You do not belong in mine.

"And she has some of her own family here." Robert gestured for Jon Arryn to step forward. "Jon, you and your wife take Elyanna to her new rooms, I have the rest of this bloody court to see to."

Elyanna realised she was being dismissed, but she was happier for it. Holding the attention of the Court and royal family was hardly a comfortable position to be in.

Jon came towards her, a smile on his creased face, holding out his arm for her to take.

"Come, niece."

With a final curtsey to the royal family, Elyanna slipped her arm through her uncle's, lightly resting her hand atop his sleeve. As he led her from the Great Hall, with king Robert continuing with the business of the day before they had scarce gone ten paces, a woman and a boy slipped away to join their little procession. In spite of their different builds, the dark auburn hair of the woman marked her as Lysa Arryn, younger sister to Elyanna's mother. The boy, a sickly looking child clinging dearly to his mother's hand, must therefore be her cousin Robert.

They made slow progress at first, Robert's three year old steps hardly long or quick enough to match those of his elders. This soon irked the toddler, who's shrill protests at using his own feet were silenced quickly when Lysa swept him up into her arms. He still squirmed even there, and rather than disciplining him into staying still, Lysa remained quiet and merely adjusted her hold to accommodate his movements.

Oh well, I suppose every family is different. Elyanna noted silently to herself.

"I hungry!" the little boy announced as soon as the doors to the Great Hall had been closed behind them. He pawed at the front of his mother's dress as he spoke. "Hungry!"

Elyanna averted her eyes from her family, which took her gaze back to the guards at the door, and so she did not miss the eye-rolls of the guards as this display happened. So her little cousin was known for his outbursts? There would certainly be very different dynamics here to what she was used to back home. For a moment homesickness took her by surprise. Even if she felt out of place, at least it was familiar.

"I should take him back to the Tower and feed him." Lysa said, sending an apologetic look in Elyanna's direction. "Would you excuse me, dear niece? I really must feed him."

She nodded, and Lysa offered her a smile in thanks. There was more to differentiate the sister beyond their sizes. When Catelyn Stark smiled, the world felt a little brighter for it. While Elyanna might not have been close to her mother, she could still appreciate that. There was no such comfort to be drawn from her Aunt Lysa's smiles. Genuine as they seemed, somehow they never quite made it to her eyes, which only softened for her son. Robert, for his part, barely seemed to notice her even when he looked in her direction.

"Hungry!" His pale face scrunched up, and the parents knew what would soon follow.

"Take him, I will see you both later." Jon attempted to plant a kiss on his son's head, but the boy wriggled away from it.

Try as she might, Elyanna could not fathom how the child had earned the nickname of 'Sweet Robin'. Still, she had been in the city not yet an hour, with time she would get to know her cousin better, and perhaps understand.

Husband and wife did not kiss as they parted, and within moments she was left alone with her uncle. Truth be told her felt more comfortable that way. She had worried that, as they were sisters, her aunt would perhaps try to place herself in a mother role to her. This quiet, old, man beside her had the kind of solidity to his bearing that her father did, it was calming.

"How is your father?" Jon asked as they resumed their walk to wherever it was that Elyanna would be staying. "'It has been far too many years since Ned and I last saw each other."

"He is good." She whispered in reply.

"And your mother and family? All well?"

Elyanna nodded, but said no more.

"You must be tired, it is a long journey." Jon appraised her, taking her quietness as a result of her travels. "Let's get you to those rooms."

The rest of the walk passed in silence, which Elyanna was grateful for. The Red Keep was a magnificent building to look at, smaller than Winterfell, but built with a finer eye for detail than the simpler Northern structure. They left the Great Hall behind, crossing a courtyard and entering the square structure she knew to be the Holdfast.

"As a ward to the King, your rooms are within Maegor's Holdfast, along with the rest of the Royal Apartments, but not far from the Tower of the Hand where your aunt and I live. You are of course free to visit with us anytime you wish."

More nodding.

Jon looked down at her with a kind smile.

"Your father told me how quiet you were, I confess I did not believe the extent of it, but here we are."

Elyanna didn't know how to respond to that. She broke their eye contact, finding remarkable interest in the dust on her shuffling boots.

"Gods alone know it's good to have a little peace and quiet for a change, this city makes far too much noise."

It was kind of him to make an effort to put her at ease. Perhaps he was also being honest, but regardless a smile slipped its way onto her face. For a moment only, but it caused the wrinkles around Jon's eyes to multiply with his own smile.

They reached her room soon after that. Rooms actually, Elyanna had never seen so much space dedicated to just one person, even the Lord and Lady of Winterfell had only a bedroom to themselves. She had that, an antechamber -Gods alone knew what she would use that for- and a bathing chamber. There was so much space. A bed bigger than her one back home, wardrobes far too large for the number of clothes she owned, this really was a room for a princess.

"Do you like them?" Jon inquired.

Elyanna looked up at him, eyes wide, gestured around the rooms and then pointed at herself.

"Yes." he chuckled. "These are your rooms, all of them. Different from Winterfell?"

She nodded in response, taking in more details. Her belongings had already been moved in. Her hairbrush on the stand with a ewer and basin for cleaning, her trunk was to the left of the wardrobe, were no doubt her clothes had already been stored. They probably took up about as much room in there as she would on the bed.

"I will leave you to get settled in. I understand that the Queen has assigned two maids to you, I am sure that they will be along shortly to introduce themselves. Should you need them, there is a bell you can toll in that corner there."

She nodded again, seeing the tassel of red cord that he had indicated.

He paused again at the door, turning back to her with a kindly smile.

"Welcome to King's Landing, Elyanna."

When she had heard his footsteps move out of her earshot Elyanna walked over to the large bed, so unlike even her parent's one back home. The mattress was fat, the blankets not so thick as back home, and made of gold cloth rickly embroidered in black thread. She ran her hands over it, tracing the lines of stitching, pushing her hands into the mattress to feel how soft it was, doing the same to the closest of many pillows, all of them done up in golden silk that was a far cry from the simple linen used in Winterfell.

So unfamiliar.

"I am really not at home." She whispered to herself.

Then Elyanna threw herself onto the bed, head buried in pillows with arms spread wide, and she smiled.