Book 1: Prints in the Snow

Chapter XVIII • A Deal Struck

It wasn't until late in the morning that they were both awake at the same time. Lyon saw his eyes crack open first.

"Good morning, father." Her voice was hoarse and meek from dehydration and worry, but she didn't care. As her father's eyes met her own, she found a small weight lift from her shoulders.

"Lyon... when did you get here?"

"Yesterday evening. I was told you'd been attacked and that- that Jory was killed." Saying it out loud was harder than she thought it would have been. Tears pricked at her eyes like tiny needles, until they welled and fell. She let them fall. "Is he really dead?"

Weakly, Ned nodded. A quiet sob burst from Lyon.

"I'm sorry. I knew you looked up to him. I knew he was kind to you." Lyon lifted her gaze to meet his. She attempted a smile, but it was too pitifully difficult to hold. The muscles in her face felt too weak.

"He was very kind. I'm going to miss him... but I thank the gods you're safe now, and that you didn't meet the same fate." Lyon masked a sniffle. "How are you feeling?"

"Ah, my leg has been better."

He was relieved to find she smiled faintly. "So it has... What do you want me to tell Arya and Sansa?"

"No sense in worrying them, hm? Tell them I am fine. Only a scratch."

"And about..." Lyon tightened her lips. Gods, it was hard even to say his name.

"You needn't tell them that, my dear. Now go, rest and be there for your sisters."

Lyon leaned forward, planting a chaste kiss upon her father's brow before taking her leave. Briefly, she saw the King and Queen standing outside, and she curtsied as she should, and left.

But she didn't go to her room, nor either of her sisters' rooms. She made for down the hall, and out of the keep. Quick was her feet now that the drunkenness had gone away, but she could feel sluggishness creeping up on her.

Not enough that she didn't slip into the city sewer system with ease.

"So, you've returned! I'm surprised to see you've remembered your way to us, but you are your mother's daughter."

"So I am. I assume you've already heard about what happened to my father?"

Raphael pursed his lips, glancing over his feet to appraise Lyon's countenance. He sat with them upon his desk, and she stood across from him with bags under her eyes and trembling hands. He would have to train that out of her.

"Word has passed, yes. I am sorry about the loss of your lover."

Lyon's jaw clenched. "That's not what I'm here to discuss."

"So it isn't. Rather forward, you are. I can respect that. Now, who is it you want us to protect? You mother? Bedridden father? Crippled brother?"

"I will take eight lives for you. You will protect the Stark family. My brothers, sisters, and mother and father."

Raphael removed his feet from his desk and leaned forward. "They won't all be like poisoning Lord Barton, you know. You will sink your blade into a man's heart and take his life. Do you think you can do that?"

Lyon narrowed her bloodshot eyes. "I find it more preferable than poisoning a man while straddling him to a chair."

She almost detested the way Raphael's eyes lit up with glee. "So be it then, dear cub. Eight lives. I will give you names, and you will give me their lives like a good girl. When I have the first name, I will see to it that you receive it."

"I look forward to working together." Lyon stepped forward and outstretched her hand, much to her uncle's surprise. He grinned anyway, and the deal was struck.

Lyon had slunk into her bed as soon as she could, forgetting about the task of telling her sisters of their father's condition. Her exhaustion swept over, unavoidable and taunting her into bed rest. She swept right past her sister's chambers and into her own, not waking until the next morning. She awoke to a troubling sight.

Lyon became suspicious of Raphael's doing as soon as she caught sight of the sealed letter laying upon her pillow. Tentatively, she reached for it and broke the seal. The contents did not surprise her- he was quick to give her her task. This life, some gambling man who frequented a specific brothel with the money he won for the night, for the safety of Arya. She would take this man's life. The thought didn't sicken her as much as she thought it would.

With a lantern within her room, she burned the letter away until not a single trace of it remained. Then, gradually, she began to prepare for the day.

Her stomach ached for nourishment, so she made her way to where her family typically broke their fast. She found Arya and Sansa seated quietly. Ned sat at the head of the table, a cane at his side.

"You've finally deigned to join us." He said. Something like guilt found Lyon. Her father looked ill. His flesh was so pale it seemed translucent.

"I-I'm sorry. Are you sure you should be up? Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Perhaps, but the King has expressed increasing urgency in me resuming my work as hand."

"Greedy bastard. Doesn't he see that you're injured? Gods, if Jaime Lannister didn't kill you then Robert sure as hell-"

"Enough! Sit, Lyon. Do not speak of your king like that." Lyon snapped her mouth closed and sat. "Where were you?"

"Out. I needed time to think. When I came back I slept for longer than I expected. I'm sorry."

Ned tapped his fingers against the table. The sound seemed to hammer Lyon's eardrums. "From now on you will not leave the Keep without two of my guards to accompany you. That goes for all of you."

"You can't be serious. I can defend myself." Lyon argued. Her voice rose despite herself, and not even the stern look of her father could make her quiet. "Is this to keep us cramped into our chambers all day? You can't expect us to stay in here all day."

"I do, and you will. You've been spending enough time loitering around the city and avoiding your lessons. Septa Mordane says she hasn't seen you in several days."

"I'm afraid I've learned all I can for the Septa's lessons. Most women my age are married by now, you know. Or have you forgotten?"

His eyes hardened. For a moment it was only Lyon and Ned, arguing among themselves again. But Sansa and Arya were listening closely, looking none too comfortable with the morning's proceedings.

Ned would not back down though. "You will have an escort, or you will remain in your rooms."

"How unfortunate." Lyon rose, a cold unfamiliar tone coming to her voice. She removed herself from their company without another word.

Way too put a damper on my murders, she thought.