Book 1: Prints in the Snow

Chapter XXI • Secrets in the Garden

"Do you, Lord Stark? Is that why you called me here, to pose me riddles?"

It was Lyon's father and the Queen. She tucked herself behind one of the vine-engulfed pillars and let her ears filter their conversation. The tension became thick in the air as they spoke, and not even the heat in the east could warm the blood in Lyon's veins.

"My brother is worth a thousand of your friend."

"Your brother, or your lover?" Ned muttered, distastefully, like there was bile upon his tongue. Lyon's innards churned at the very thought.

"The Targaryens wed brothers and sisters for three hundred years to keep bloodlines pure." The Queen rebuked. "Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We shared a womb. We came into this world together. We belong together."

"My son saw you with him."

Bran. Good gods, Lyon was nearly sick with disgust. She laid a hand upon her belly to calm herself as she listened to the conversation's end. Like the shadows themselves, she remained out of the sun's glare until she heard the Queen's footsteps recede before stepping tentatively into the light. She didn't meet her father's eyes at first, though he looked to her. Lyon's unsteady hand fell to her side and sat next to her father.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to look at her the same way again. Thank the Gods I am no product of incest." Lyon murmured, her voice barely carrying upon to the wind. "Do you think she'll leave with her children as you ordered?"

Ned sighed, and she noted the slight slump to his shoulders. "I can only hope."

"Hope is all we have, for now." She said. "I... I was looking for you earlier. I was going to take a walk in the gardens to clear my head. There's something I wish to discuss with you."

Ned's hand came to rest on his daughter's shoulder. A short, tired smile upon his face. "Tonight we will speak, I promise. For now, there is something I must attend to. But tonight we will talk."

Lyon offered a similar smile in return. "Of course. Good luck, father."

He left her upon her seat, where she welcomed the sunlight a little longer before rising and returning to her escort.

"Are you feeling better, my Lady?"

"Yes, thank you." She offered them a kind look before beginning back up the stairs. "I think... I'm going to write to Bran."

- - -

The missive came to her as she was writing, and as evening approached. Lyon had sent her letter off, with words and messages from Sansa and Arya, when a silver bird settled upon her windowsill with a rolled slip of paper on its ankle.

Now she patrolled the shadows in her new armor, thankful for her new disguise, eyes out for a "spectacularly outrageous" blade, in Raphael's words. Of course, a further description was given but a blade of gold and sapphire fashioned into the blade itself seemed to stick out. Lyon had hoped to catch eye of him outside of any establishments, but a boisterous tavern caught her eye. She knew she couldn't stick to the shadows every time.

Swift Tavern was louder than any of the Winterfell taverns Lyon had encountered, with nearly double as many bodies. There was something afoot within already if there wasn't about to be. Several bodies huddled around a man who, from her periphery, she saw reach down and extract a sleek golden blade, blue stone uselessly embedded into the blade.

How tacky. She grimaced, coming to sit at the tavern's counter and ordering an ale. She drank quietly, hood drawn over her eyes, but she could pick out the voice of the man amidst the drunken clutter of sound. He boasted, but when those nearby saw the blade they began to grow closer to him, admiring the gemstones. Should one extract those gemstones, they'd fetch a pretty price...

Lyon set down her coins for her drink and slipped into the crowd. The shoving began, and the drunken shouting grew at a deafening crescendo.

"Grab it! Get the gems!"

There was a fight for the man's prize, and the bustling made it nearly impossible for Lyon to reach. Grumbling, she grabbed a man by the collar and hauled him backward, taking his place in the crowd. She heard him howl out, but she was disappearing amidst the stinking drunks. And then she was upon her target, standing behind him as she swiftly slipped her hidden dagger beneath his rib cage and upwards in one fluid motion. She felt him sag, but her blade was out and hidden within her armor before cataplexy seized him and he was on the floor. The was a shout of alarm, and then excitement as the dying man was trampled and his new prize was stolen.

But Lyon was out before the crowd could fight for the gems anew.

- - -

Lyon returned through her window, dressed, and no later was her door trembling from fists banging upon its exterior.

"Lyon Stark, open up at once."

It wasn't one of her father's guards. She'd nearly memorized all of their voices. Instinctively she reached for her own blade.

"It is late sers, I am retiring for the night. Leave me be."

"If you do not open the door we are to retrieve you by force and bring you to the Queen."

"What is going on? Where is my father?"

There was a deafening silence on the other side. And then, a kick of an armored boot and the door blew open. The Kingslanding guard did not have their blades drawn, but the moment they saw Lyon's hands wielding her own, they became wary.

"Come any closer and you'll be sorry."

There was a chuckle from one of them, and the frontward man unsheathed his steel blade.

"Come, little girl. That is no plaything."

"I am no little girl, you twat. Stay away from me!"

"Why you..." He marched forward and went to grab her with an armored hand, but Lyon was swift and buzzing after the murder. She ducked under the man's grasp and brought her blade across the slit of unprotected flesh below his armpit, sending blood spraying across the pristine floors. The guard stumbled backward and his hand moved to his wound, almost as though in disbelief.

His resolve suddenly hardened. "Seize her," he ordered.

All at once a wave of Kingsguard swept past him and into Lyon's room, greatly outnumbering her. They made no pass at harming her by the blade, but before she could spill much more blood they'd seized her by the arms and kicked out her legs. She screamed bloody murder, for what it was worth. Then the guard, still grasping at his seeping wound, came to stand before her.

"You want to see your father so badly, girl? Fine, but you'll be sorry." He took her own blade from her and, using the pommel, brought it down upon her skull.

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You guys! I'm almost done writing what would be the first season of this fic! I think two more chapters until the storyline following the first season ends and then I continue with the second season! Who else is excited for Tyrion's return into Lyon's (incredibly messed up atm) life?