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Chapter 3

"Would you like to stay with me?"

The young Dornishwoman did not understand at first – and then, she looked surprised that Lyanna had asked such a question. Lyanna could hardly believe it herself but the fourth day of her return was fading away slowly, the snow in the courtyard going dark, and still she felt as much of a stranger here as the old Kings of Winter. In fact, the crypts had offered her more hospitality than her own onetime chambers. The statues were quiet, so they did not go fall silent at her appearance; they were cold and just as unfriendly to her as they were to everyone else and no more. And they were unchanged, unlike everything else about Winterfell. Unlike the way people looked at her even as they attended her…

But still – the handmaiden from Dorne? The one who had appeared like a ghost one morning at Lyanna's awaking, served her earnestly but not very skillfully, in the beginning, and was also charged with keeping an eye on her? Her jailor, kind of? A girl who had only been answerable to Blaze? Was she really offering her a job?

The young woman shook her head. "Thank you, m'lady, but I can't accept. My betrothed is waiting for me back at the Tor and I promised Lady Ilana that I'd be back in no more than four months."

"If I raise your wages to double the ones you receive there?" Lyanna insisted.

The Dornish girl did not hesitate. "My life is there, m'lady. The preparations for my wedding will start as soon as I return. Serving you brought me enough coin to build a house and start my new life there, as soon as I wed."

Lyanna's despair grew as she watched the other girl fuss over garments and chests. She had truly thought that she would be able to convince her – and then have someone who depended on her, was loyal to her alone, and apart from the silent enmity Winterfell raised against her like a shield. Her Winterfell which was no longer hers. The intensity of her longing to return here came to her like a cruel echo. In fact, she had found herself isolated worse than she had ever been in Dorne. There, she had had no one to talk to but Rhaegar and the men who had stood by as he had lured her into ruining her life; here, people let her talk but no one truly listened. Now, she could go everywhere but the reception that she found made her only want to hide in her chambers – which, of course, she would never do, although leaving this sanctuary became harder every day.

"What is she like?" she asked unexpectedly, even for herself. "This Lady Ilana. My brother is going to wed her, as you know."

The girl's narrow face lit up and she almost dropped the skirt she was holding. "Oh, your brother is very lucky, m'lady! She has silver hair and eyes like amethysts. Even the Maiden would envy her beauty. And she's kind to her friends and generous and gracious to her servants."

Just wait until she does something to anger them, Lyanna thought cynically. Was I not kind, generous and gracious? What did it count for at the end? "She is also lucky," she said sharply after a moment, realizing with shock and horror that from now on, Ben's life would pass in exclamations and congratulations at how lucky he was. Always in the second place. Second to his lady wife. A Stark of Winterfell! "My brother is someone she should feel proud to wed."

"She's quite fond of him," the young Dornishwoman said cautiously and Lyanna was ready to claw her eyes out. But why? It was only natural. Her loyalties lay with the mistress she knew.

"You seem to know her very well," she said after a moment.

"I was a child when Lady Alynna took me to the Tor when she wed. My mother had died and my father had just remarried. I was no longer welcome there and m'lady chose me to accompany her and train me to be her first daughter's personal servant when she was blessed with one. Fortunately, she was blessed right away."

"Lady Alynna seems to be blessed right away in everything she wants," Lyanna muttered and did not add the betrayal part. Because she was afraid. Afraid that she'd annoy a handmaiden!

"Indeed she is." The tone was even but the girl turned back to her work without saying anything. What was there to be said?

"Wait," Lyanna said when the Dornishwoman was already leaving. "What's your name? I never asked."

"Isa, m'lady," the young woman replied. "After Lady Isanne, the mistress of Salt Shore," she added proudly and left Lyanna to reflect if there would ever be a child in Winterfell named after her and proud of it.

The laughter reached her as she was emerging from the godswood and it took her some time to spot the source of the merriment but when she did, she laughed as well. In the courtyard, a few guards and a couple of servant maids were vastly amused by the clinking of the ancient Stark sword against the frozen ground, so compact that it reflected the sound as powerfully and purely as a marble floor. Clink, clink, clink. A little boy, auburn of hair and blue of eyes, had it propped against his shoulder and was dragging it behind himself – there was no other way to take it with him. This was the first time Lyanna saw Brandon's son but there was no doubt who he was. He did not look like his father at all and for a moment, Lyanna wondered if the Kings of Winter would recognize his statue one day – he was so unlike them. A future Stark lord with none of the Stark looks – yet another change that had taken place during her absence. Lyanna could remember Ben at this age, stealing Ice in attempt to wield her. She had been told that she had also done it at the time. She was surprised at the powerful feeling of love and affection that swelled in her – and for the first time, she thought that perhaps not having Rhaegar's child was not such a good thing, after all.

Little Robb Stark – by the old gods, she could still hardly believe that Brandon had named his heir after Robert! – looked infuriated by the laughter. All of a sudden, he stopped, stomped his foot on the ground, fell under the weight of the greatsword, rose, put it back, and said angrily, "When I grow up… I'll swing it here and there… You will all see!"

"For now," her father said grimly, appearing all of a sudden, "I don't want to see Ice out of her place. You are now about to return her there, Robert. With no one's help."

The boy was not stupid enough to argue but when he passed by Lyanna, struggling but determined under his burden, she saw his wide smile. Clearly, he was well aware that his grandfather wasn't really angry. Lyanna was ready to bet that by next week, Ice would be disturbed once again, although he'd do his best to remain unnoticed. She smiled – and then her smile died when she realized that this was the behavior that she had expected of her father – not immediately but by now, surely. He has found someone else to scold and spoil, Lyanna thought and this realization left her frozen in her seat. If there was another child in Winterfell, getting all the benevolence and patience that she had thought her right, then… then she could not expect to be allowed to stay a child. She would be treated like an adult. No forgiving. No forgetting. No waving it away.

People were still laughing and saying things like strong blood, a lad of will, a future warlord. No one turned to Lyanna to share their merriment. She felt like the loneliest soul on earth until she saw a full head of brown hair and amused blue eyes who did not avoid hers. A small wisp of warmth made its way through her heart at the thought that he, of all people, suddenly made her feel better. He. The Dornishman.

Lyanna was waiting for Ned's arrival with longing and horror – and all too often, horror was the dominating emotion. Brandon's avoidance was even more hurtful than her father's, or perhaps it was hurtful in a different way. She could hardly bear to think what Ned would be like.

"So, his relationship with Robert had not suffered over my… deed?" she asked and Catelyn looked up from the parchments on her table. It was another thing in her goodsister that surprised Lyanna and she was not sure that she liked it. To Catelyn, friendships could not simply be felt, they had to be cultivated and maintained, so there was a morning every week that was dedicated just to her letters. Writing to her many acquaintances and receiving their answers – Lyanna could not imagine that every week, there was something new and interesting that people truly wished to write about. It felt like formality to her but Catelyn adhered to it as religiously as she did to her Faith of the Seven, Isa had reported.

Still, Catelyn was the only one who did not outright give Lyanna the cold shoulder, so Lyanna was willing to overlook many things and never talk about them – a hard thing for a girl who had never hesitated before expressing her mind before, for sure!

"It did," Catelyn replied calmly and sipped from her tea. Lyanna was getting used to the too sweet taste, just like she was getting used to the small piece of South that was Catelyn's solar. "For a while. But eventually, things smoothed over. Some friendships are not tenacious enough to endure such a blow, albeit not struck by any of the people involved. Fortunately, theirs was not one of those. Sarra Baratheon writes that Ned has left the day she sent the raven, after celebrating her daughter's birth with Robert and the rest of the people in Storms End. I expect that in three weeks, we'll see him here. Four, at most."

Lyanna swallowed but decided not to think about the sentence that was now delayed by a definite period. Instead, she indulged her curiosity. "Do you know her well?" she asked. "Robert's wife? Did you know her before?"

Catelyn shook her head. "I knew about her," she clarified. "She didn't have much luck in her life. She lost a husband and three children together. They say that when the Princess Regent approached her about wedding her to Robert, she was under constant watch to make sure that she would not take her own life away. I don't know if this rumour is true and I didn't ask, of course, but I can't imagine…" The very thought of losing Brandon, her son, or the child she was told to be carrying was too terrible to contemplate.

I suppose that after this, Robert's whores won't bother her this much, Lyanna thought and wondered how on earth had Robert dealt with a wife like this. She had known that he'd be unable to make her happy and she had not wanted or needed this much. This Sarra Martell sounded like a handful, although, of course, through no fault of her own. "Are they happy?" she asked anyway. After all, she had never wished unhappiness on Robert.

Catelyn nodded. "They always seem to be on good terms when I see them," she said. "People say that he might be visiting other women, kind of like he did before his wedding, but no one knows for sure. I can only say that if there are others, they don't matter at all. To him, she is the only one."

Fortunately for him, she is from Dorne, Lyanna thought but even this did not help her wonder if love had not changed this man's nature, after all. She had thought him unable to keep to one bed for sure and even less able to keep his undiscretions under the wraps.

For the first time, she thought that her father might still have some plans for her in this web of alliances and friendships that Catelyn was so meticulous in maintaining. And this notion made her blood curdle.