A/N: So I've been waiting to post this chapter, since I've had a tough time writing ahead. But I hope this holds you over until the next chapter! Here's the royal party in Winterfell.

Lyanna awoke at dawn the next morning, the day the Mad King was due to arrive. She took a moment to lie in her bed, breathing steadily and enjoying the warmth and comfort of her room, before stepping out of bed and calling her handmaid, Annabelle. "I'll need a fresh bath this morning, and my best green gown and cloak," she said.

"Yes, my lady."

She pondered the royal arrival as her three handmaids drew her bath in the large, copper tub. She sat and soaked, wondering – how Winterfell could possibly hold all of the retinue the King was bringing, what the Queen and Prince would be like, if the Prince would bring his lady wife and daughter – while the maids scrubbed every inch of her clean, pouring hot water over her head repeatedly to wash the soap away. Soon, she stepped out and they toweled her dry. Annabelle brushed her hair until it shone, pulling it into a braided bun, while Beth and Gwynn laced her into the chosen dress over soft smallclothes.

"Do you know much about the royal family, my lady?" Annabelle asked Lyanna curiously as she braided her mistress' hair.

"A little," she said. "Prince Rhaegar is married to Princess Elia of Dorne, and she's expecting their second child, which I understand is to be a boy. They have a little girl already. All of the nobles that have met him say he's a much kinder, gentler man than his father, King Aerys."

"Is it true that the king married his sister?" Gwynn asked incredulously.

Lyanna nodded. "House Targaryen was marrying brother to sister even before they crossed the Narrow Sea from Valyria. They claim they do it for the purity of their bloodline. The Faith of the Seven overlooked their sin in exchange for their support when the Targaryens took the Iron Throne." She paused. "But we mustn't speak of such things while they're here. My brothers tell me the Mad King has lost all sense."

The maids shared a nervous look, and Lyanna glanced at each of them in turn. "Just keep your heads down, mind your duties, and none of the royals will have any reason to bother you," she reassured them gently. "It's only a couple of months, and then they'll be gone."

A sharp knock on the door ended their conversation. "Enter," she called. Benjen opened the door, smiling at his elder sister. "You look gorgeous, Lya," he said. "We're assembling in the courtyard; the Targaryens will be here at any moment."

The young Lady of Winterfell nodded, taking a deep breath as she rose from her seat. "Annabelle, Beth, Gwynn, you're dismissed for the night. Do enjoy the festivities, but I can prepare for bed on my own." She turned back to Benjen. "I'm ready to go, brother."

With his ever-dashing smile, he offered her his arm as the three maids exited her chambers for the kitchens. Lyanna walked with him all the way down to the courtyard, where the rest of the family and household staff had already assembled. Her father and brothers smiled as they saw her come down with Benjen, and she took her place between him and Ned, who lightly kissed her cheek in greeting. "You look beautiful, Lya, as always," he murmured.

"Thank you, Ned," she murmured back with a smile. She was very close to her older brother; her father once told her that when she was born, Ned wanted to be the first to hold her after the maester and their mother. He had been so happy to have a baby sister.

She was jerked out of her reverie by loud shouts of "They're coming! Open the gates!" Men hurried around the courtyard, and soon, the main gates of Winterfell lazily crept open with a deafening whine.

And the Targaryen retinue entered.

The only word Lya could think to use to describe them was Magnificent. A huge litter, held up by eight knights, carried the Queen and her maids, while the men and guards rode their horses alongside. Armor covered every man, and swords hung from every waist. She could see King Aerys and Prince Rhaegar riding on either side of the litter, flanked by the Kingsguard. The Prince's huge gray warhorse looked well lathered; the King must have driven them hard.

At her father's example, everyone knelt in unison, bowing their heads to the royals. Lyanna heard armor clanking softly as the men dismounted and the litter was put down. Footsteps, two sets, she wagered by the volume of the armor's movement, but she didn't dare raise her head until the King gave his word.

"Rise," it came. His voice was surprisingly quiet, like a whispery breath of wind. She waited for her father and elder brothers, before she stood upright again, Benjen following after her. Her father was face to face with King Aerys, Prince Rhaegar was standing behind his father, and Queen Rhaella had just exited her litter, trailed by her maids.

"Your Grace," Lord Rickard bowed his head. Lyanna glanced at the Prince, but immediately looked back down at her shoes when his piercing lilac eyes met hers. "Welcome to Winterfell. It is the honor of House Stark to share our roof, meat, and mead with you and your host."

"Thank you, Lord Stark," he replied as his wife joined him by his side. "I trust I will find the North's defenses satisfactory against the possibility of an invasion of Others."

"Yes, Your Grace. If it please Your Grace, my household staff can show you to your quarters. You must be exhausted from your ride."

The King nodded. "Thank you, Lord Stark."

As the staff bustled about to get the huge host settled in, she saw the Queen murmur something in her father's ear. "What is it, Father?" she whispered when she approached him, watching the Queen as she walked away after the King.

"She told me we're lucky he's lucid today, and not to expect it tomorrow." He sighed heavily. "This is going to be an interesting two months, my love. Keep your thoughts and actions guarded as much as you can while they're here."

Lyanna nodded. "Will I still train with the boys?" she asked hopefully. She had been almost certain that he would bar her from training for the month that the royal family was there; they couldn't do anything to risk displeasing the Mad King.

However, Lord Rickard chuckled. "I couldn't take that away from you, even though Maester Luwin advised me to. Yes, His Grace will see that we train our daughters alongside our sons for combat against the Others here in the North."

Her face was ecstatic as she threw her arms around her father. "Thank you so much, Father."

He smiled to himself as he hugged his daughter. "I love you, my sweet girl."

"I love you too, Father."

Lyanna brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, which Gwynn caught and tucked back into her bun. Tonight was the first feast for the arrival of the royal retinue. The whole household and all the Starks' vassal houses would be in attendance. The young Lady Stark herself wore a simple gown of light gray covered in silver Myrish lace that hugged her top half and flared out into a huge skirt just above her hips. There would be dancing, no doubt, and she would have to take a turn with each of her brothers, her father, and possibly some of the Targaryen knights.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Gwynn asked.

She smiled nervously. "I suppose I am, Gwynn."

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of her eldest brother, come to escort her down to the Great Hall. "You look beautiful, Lya," Brandon smiled as he beheld his younger sister. He was dressed in his finest doublet and breeches, the direwolf of House Stark racing proudly across his huge chest. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," she said. "Let's get this over with."

Brandon chuckled and offered her his arm. Together, they made their way to the banquet hall. The drink was already flowing heavily; Lyanna could hear the Greatjon Umber's bellowing several yards from the Great Hall. "Sometimes I wonder if he can go to a feast without drinking," she murmured to her brother.

"Who, the Greatjon? Telling him not to drink at a feast is like telling him not to breathe for a few hours," Brandon laughed as they approached the door, meeting their father outside. Lord Rickard acknowledged his approaching children with a nod. "Brandon. Lya, you look lovely."

She blushed. "Thank you, Father."

The Lord of Winterfell allowed a small smile. "Now, when we go in, King Aerys and Queen Rhaella will be seated in the middle. I'll be next to the King, and Brandon, you'll be on my left, to the right of Ned. Benjen will be on Ned's other side. Lya, you'll sit between the Queen and Prince Rhaegar."

She gaped and grew pale. She would be on the other side of the table from all of her family, stuck between two Targaryens…for the whole feast? "Wh-what?"

"Don't fret, my dear," her father assured her. "The Queen shares none of her husband's violent temperament, from what I've seen and heard. And Prince Rhaegar will certainly wish only to regale you with stories of life in King's Landing. You have nothing to fear." Lya kept her eyes down and nodded weakly. Her father lifted her chin to look at her. "Come now, you'll be fine. Where's my spirited daughter?"

She smiled nervously, and Lord Rickard nodded in approval, his own smile growing. "Just be the strong woman of the North I know you are, my dear. They'll be impressed with you, I have no doubt of it." Lya couldn't help but smile proudly at her father's words. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, and the doors opened.

The decorations were immense. Lyanna's jaw almost dropped; she had never seen the Great Hall so decorated before. Huge Stark and Targaryen banners hung behind the dais, while all around the walls were banners of the Houses sworn to the Starks – Karstark, Umber, Flint, Mormont, Hornwood, Cerwyn, Reed, Manderly, Glover, Tallhart, and Bolton were all represented. Tables were all over the room, except for the middle portion, where she assumed the dancing would take place later on. Taking a deep breath, Lyanna and Brandon continued forward, until she had arrived at her seat between the Queen and the Prince. They had the same long, silvery-blonde hair and purple eyes, the Prince's being much darker. But on a closer look, they both looked kinder than the King.

Her brother pulled out her chair before walking over to his spot on the dais As the King and her father sat, everyone else moved to sit in perfect unison. Now, the feast would start.

"I-is this your first time in the North, Your Grace?" she asked the Queen shyly as the first course was dished, struggling to keep a slight stammer out of her voice.

"Yes," Queen Rhaella answered, her voice naturally very quiet, and somewhat low for a woman. It reminded Lyanna a little of her brother Ned. "Lovely country. Much quieter than King's Landing, to be sure," she added with a chuckle.

The Prince interjected from her other side, taking Lyanna by surprise. "I think everywhere in the realm is quieter than King's Landing, Mother," he chuckled. His voice was deep and rich, almost musical. It wasn't the kind of voice Lyanna had expected a dragon to have. "It is a city of half a million, after all."

"Point taken, Rhaegar," she chuckled. "I suppose you've grown accustomed to life here, Lady Stark?"

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms just called me Lady Stark. Gods be good. Lyanna swallowed hard and nodded, trying to smile. "Yes, Your Grace. Though I hear it takes some getting used to?" she asked, taking a small bite of her food.

The Queen smiled again. "Only a little. I rather like it here; it's much more bearable than the sweaty summers in King's Landing." She seemed rather kind, and very easy to talk to. Lyanna liked her already. A tension she hadn't even noticed eased out of her shoulders. Maybe this night wouldn't be so bad after all.

The Queen and the Prince carried most of the conversation for the rest of the night, but Queen Rhaella proved to be a kind soul, and would often ask Lyanna's opinion of the things they discussed. It was hours later before the conversation lulled and the royals spoke to their other neighbors, which left Lyanna time to think.

All through the night, her Targaryen neighbors had been so different than she expected. The only tales she'd ever heard were of the Mad King, and his heinous ideas of justice in the Seven Kingdoms. The Queen had never been mentioned once at Winterfell before they learned she was arriving with the King, and Prince Rhaegar was the source of much speculation concerning his mental state. To Lyanna, however, he seemed to be just as mentally sound as anyone she knew.

Soon, it was time for dancing. The staff quickly cleared a section of floor as the musicians in the gallery took up their pipes and fiddles. Lyanna watched with interest as people paired up all around the room. She always loved to watch people dancing, it was like they were in a different world altogether.

A tap on her shoulder brought her back to the real world, and she turned to see Ned standing behind her. "May I have this dance?" he asked, a playful light dancing in his eyes. He wasn't usually once for dancing, but he knew she loved it.

She chuckled and grinned. "Certainly, brother," she replied, kissing his cheek and letting him lead her to the floor. The musicians struck up a lighthearted jig, and soon, Ned and Lya were off.

"I know Father had you stuck…between the Queen and Prince all through dinner," he said in a low voice, pausing to spin her around once. "Are you alright?"

"Alright enough," she said with a small nod. "The Queen is quite a kind woman. I like her."

Ned nodded. "That is a comfort, to be certain. And Prince Rhaegar?"

The sound of a man clearing his throat interrupted her as she was about to answer. "May I cut in?" an all-too-familiar voice asked. Lyanna's stomach dropped. Of all the moments for Prince Rhaegar to cut into her dance with her brother, he had to choose now.

Ned smirked. "By all means." Prince Rhaegar's smile had a fixed quality to it, as though it had been sewn onto his face as he bowed to her brother. Lyanna quickly dipped her eyes as his cold hand enfolded her own, his right hand resting just below her shoulder blade. Lyanna racked her mind for something to say, but came up empty. She had no idea what to say to him, especially since he didn't look particularly happy to be dancing with her. "I, uh…I hope your stay at Winterfell has been pleasant so far, Your Grace," she stammered.

Rhaegar looked at her with a very neutral expression, but the closeness of their bodies made it seem very intimate to Lyanna. "It's certainly different than I'd imagined," he answered eventually, in a very diplomatic tone. It seemed like a carefully constructed answer to her. "Is that good or bad?" she asked, foregoing a more polite and appropriate reply.

A smile – clearly real this time – twitched at the corner of the Prince's thin mouth when she responded. "I haven't quite decided, truthfully. But it seems to be a good thing so far." He spun her around once, catching her as she came back. She glanced around the room for one of her brothers, or perhaps her father. "Are you alright, my lady?" Rhaegar asked with a slight smirk. "You look a little distressed."

She was jarred by his sudden, pointed question. "Distressed? Not at all," she replied, doing her best to appear more collected than she felt. In truth, she was a little nervous, but she could hardly let the prince know this.

Thankfully, the song came to an end. Rhaegar released her and took a bow as she curtseyed. "Oh, and by the way, you look lovely."

A furious blush rose to her cheeks. "Thank you, Your Grace," she said, doing her best to smile as he walked away. She looked down as she hurried to the other side of the room, taking a deep breath. What on earth was going on with her?

A/N: It might be a little cheesy, but I needed a way to wrap up the chapter. Let me know what you think!