A raven had arrived from King's Landing. Lord Rickard Stark had received the news with mixed emotions, judging from the hard look upon his craggy countenance. Though he kept his temper well in check, a few unlucky servant felt the brunt of his ire as he strode through Winterfell in search of his only daughter.
Only to discover her beyond the keep's walls, again, galloping her charger across the moors below the fortress's high towers. By the time she returned, red-cheeked and exhilarated, braids blown from her long dark hair and grey eyes bright, Lord Stark had managed to contain his displeasure and beckoned her over as soon as she dismounted.
"News from King's Landing," he said by way of greeting, holding up the scroll clenched in one large tight fist. "Your betrothal - the King has agreed."
That was all he said, and truly, all he needed to say. In but a moment, Lyanna's expression went from happy and carefree to closed and shuttered, and she snatched the parchment from her father and read it herself, crumpling it in her own fist afterward. "Father--" she began hotly, but Lord Rickard's open hand halted her forthcoming protestations.
"I'll not hear it," he told her sharply. "It's done and that's the end of it. The royal entourage will be here within the month, so you've until then to get it out of your system, Lyanna." Though stern, his eyes weren't entirely without sympathy as he gazed at his only daughter. "I suggest you make your peace with it."
While Rhaegar had accepted the fact that he would be arranged to wed some lady or heiress in the future, he had not expected it to be Lyanna Stark. He'd almost been certain it would be Cersei Lannister, given that her father was the Hand of the King, or if not her, then Elia Martell of Dorne, whose family was of Targaryen descent. But the marriage arrangement had been struck with the North instead — the cold, hard North, where they supposedly made bears and wolves out of their women.
Whatever his reasons, Aerys did not deign to share them. He sent Rhaegar to Winterfell shortly after the arrangement had been brokered so he could meet his intended, but the young prince had wondered if that was all. His father was not well; everyone in the kingdom knew that.
It was without any expectations, then, that he strode into Winterfell's courtyard, his silver hair gleaming in the sunlight, in contrast with his black cloak and black armor and black destrier. The rest of his party carried themselves with the royal air of his House, but while he looked every bit like the prince he was whispered to be, there was something almost... shy about him.
And when he reached the Starks, it was he who bent the knee to Lord Rickard.
"My Lord and Lady Stark," he greeted. "Thank you for having us."
Lyanna's brother Ned and his age mate, Robert Baratheon of House Baratheon, had arrived from the Eyrie just a few days prior to the royal arrival, and both had been bleakly concerned about the news of her betrothal. Eddard, out of worry for his sister, and Robert, angry that he hadn't been the one to capture Lyanna's hand in marriage. She'd spent the last few days dodging them both, because regardless of how many times she'd already explained to Robert that, while she was fond of him, and thought of him like one of her own brothers, she wasn't really ready to marry anyone, and this marriage to the Targaryen prince had already been accepted.
Final. Done. All that really remained was the saying of the vows.
Nevertheless, despite her sternness in dealing with the Baratheon scion, Lyanna was nevertheless edgy and nervous the morning that the royal train finally arrived at Winterfell. Lord Rickard had all of his family in the courtyard to greet the Prince and his family, Lyanna standing next to her mother in a pale grey gown that was too tight for her liking, with her long hair wreathed in braids with small, white summer flowers woven into the dark strands. She felt like a doll, like she might shatter if she moved too quickly.
It wasn't difficult to locate Prince Rhaegar; the silver Targaryen hair gave him away immediately. She watched curiously as he dismounted and approached, then the entire Stark family took a surprised breath when the crown prince dropped to a knee and bowed his silver head, bidding greetings to Lord Rickard and his wife.
"--your Grace," Lord Rickard replied, a bit nonplussed. "It's--it's our honor, sire. Welcome to Winterfell."
If Lord Rickard was nonplussed, there was a snort from somewhere behind the line of Stark children; most likely behind Ned, where Robert would've been standing. It was soft enough to be negligible, to be simply whisked away by the cold Northern winds, but Ned would've caught it, and so would have Lyanna. The young lord of Storm's End had never been one to be able to keep his feelings — and his desires and his appetites — to himself.
But if Rhaegar noticed, he made no indication of it whatsoever. He rose gracefully, more pampered prince than soldier at least as far as appearances went; Robert was probably already thinking he could crush the prince with just one blow of his warhammer. "We hope we wouldn't be too much trouble." It was an understatement, of course; he was well aware that everyone would be on their toes, on their best behavior, whenever any member of the royal family was visiting. Who would want to get in trouble with the Iron Throne, after all?
He glanced shyly to the side, to where he remembered seeing Lyanna, beside Lady Stark, actually just as edgy and nervous as he waited for her to be presented. While there was no question that their marriage was practically guaranteed, only really needing to say their vows to seal it, and what was expected of their union was a stronger hold on the North and of course heirs, he was genuinely interested in getting to know his future wife.
If Ned didn't turn around and put his fist in Robert's face, Lyanna thought she might well do it herself. The Baratheon scion had never been able to keep his opinions to himself, despite the good sense of doing so, and Lyanna gave her older brother a stern glance, which he returned with a saturnine, yet resigned expression. Good. He'd handle Robert, then.
Then she heard her father say her name, and Lyanna's attention was summarily jerked back to the reason for all of this pomp and circumstance, and realized that Rickard was speaking to the Targaryen prince, and holding out his hand in her direction. Mustering her courage, she set her jaw and stepped forward, towards her father's hand, and, as was proper, ducked her head and dipped into a passable curtsy in front of the Crown Prince.
"...your Grace," she managed to murmur without biting her tongue, but couldn't help glance upwards through her lashes, more than a little curious for her first good look at her future husband.
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for vaedar
Date: 2020-09-13 09:42 pm (UTC)Only to discover her beyond the keep's walls, again, galloping her charger across the moors below the fortress's high towers. By the time she returned, red-cheeked and exhilarated, braids blown from her long dark hair and grey eyes bright, Lord Stark had managed to contain his displeasure and beckoned her over as soon as she dismounted.
"News from King's Landing," he said by way of greeting, holding up the scroll clenched in one large tight fist. "Your betrothal - the King has agreed."
That was all he said, and truly, all he needed to say. In but a moment, Lyanna's expression went from happy and carefree to closed and shuttered, and she snatched the parchment from her father and read it herself, crumpling it in her own fist afterward. "Father--" she began hotly, but Lord Rickard's open hand halted her forthcoming protestations.
"I'll not hear it," he told her sharply. "It's done and that's the end of it. The royal entourage will be here within the month, so you've until then to get it out of your system, Lyanna." Though stern, his eyes weren't entirely without sympathy as he gazed at his only daughter. "I suggest you make your peace with it."
no subject
Date: 2020-09-15 01:44 pm (UTC)Whatever his reasons, Aerys did not deign to share them. He sent Rhaegar to Winterfell shortly after the arrangement had been brokered so he could meet his intended, but the young prince had wondered if that was all. His father was not well; everyone in the kingdom knew that.
It was without any expectations, then, that he strode into Winterfell's courtyard, his silver hair gleaming in the sunlight, in contrast with his black cloak and black armor and black destrier. The rest of his party carried themselves with the royal air of his House, but while he looked every bit like the prince he was whispered to be, there was something almost... shy about him.
And when he reached the Starks, it was he who bent the knee to Lord Rickard.
"My Lord and Lady Stark," he greeted. "Thank you for having us."
no subject
Date: 2020-09-18 12:24 am (UTC)Final. Done. All that really remained was the saying of the vows.
Nevertheless, despite her sternness in dealing with the Baratheon scion, Lyanna was nevertheless edgy and nervous the morning that the royal train finally arrived at Winterfell. Lord Rickard had all of his family in the courtyard to greet the Prince and his family, Lyanna standing next to her mother in a pale grey gown that was too tight for her liking, with her long hair wreathed in braids with small, white summer flowers woven into the dark strands. She felt like a doll, like she might shatter if she moved too quickly.
It wasn't difficult to locate Prince Rhaegar; the silver Targaryen hair gave him away immediately. She watched curiously as he dismounted and approached, then the entire Stark family took a surprised breath when the crown prince dropped to a knee and bowed his silver head, bidding greetings to Lord Rickard and his wife.
"--your Grace," Lord Rickard replied, a bit nonplussed. "It's--it's our honor, sire. Welcome to Winterfell."
no subject
Date: 2020-09-21 09:35 am (UTC)But if Rhaegar noticed, he made no indication of it whatsoever. He rose gracefully, more pampered prince than soldier at least as far as appearances went; Robert was probably already thinking he could crush the prince with just one blow of his warhammer. "We hope we wouldn't be too much trouble." It was an understatement, of course; he was well aware that everyone would be on their toes, on their best behavior, whenever any member of the royal family was visiting. Who would want to get in trouble with the Iron Throne, after all?
He glanced shyly to the side, to where he remembered seeing Lyanna, beside Lady Stark, actually just as edgy and nervous as he waited for her to be presented. While there was no question that their marriage was practically guaranteed, only really needing to say their vows to seal it, and what was expected of their union was a stronger hold on the North and of course heirs, he was genuinely interested in getting to know his future wife.
no subject
Date: 2020-10-04 04:55 pm (UTC)Then she heard her father say her name, and Lyanna's attention was summarily jerked back to the reason for all of this pomp and circumstance, and realized that Rickard was speaking to the Targaryen prince, and holding out his hand in her direction. Mustering her courage, she set her jaw and stepped forward, towards her father's hand, and, as was proper, ducked her head and dipped into a passable curtsy in front of the Crown Prince.
"...your Grace," she managed to murmur without biting her tongue, but couldn't help glance upwards through her lashes, more than a little curious for her first good look at her future husband.