Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter. So sorry for the late upload but university started three weeks ago and I've been pretty busy! I have a few pre-written chapters so hopefully those will keep you all entertained while I work on new chapters. Enjoy!
—————
Lyon was sitting in her father's office, cross-legged and pondering over the book in her lap.
"I think you should stop spending so much time with the queen, Lyon." Her father said. She muttered a noncommittal response and flipped a page. "Lyon, look at me."
She did as she asked, folding her book over on her lap and meeting his eyes. "Does this have anything to do with how much you don't like her?"
Ned rolled his eyes. "This has everything to do with you getting too close to her. The queen is not to be trusted, Lyon. No one in Kingslanding is. That's the way the south is. Besides, your sisters and I both miss your company." A sudden sorrow found his eyes, and she sighed.
"I am to meet with her tonight. I'll... I'll discuss your concerns with you. And I'll make them sound like it's my idea, for all the good it'll do you." She reopened her book, and Ned leaned back in his seat, content for now. He missed quiet afternoons such as this one, where he and Lyon would simply sit. He found she enjoyed the silence, but also the company. They had started reading together when she was just a child, and it had since stuck. "Speaking of my sisters, where's Arya?"
"No idea," he sighed. "I have my guard out looking for her. I think she takes after you."
"I think she takes after her father." Lyon grinned slyly, meeting her father's eyes from her periphery.
A knock upon the door drew their attention away.
"Come in," Ned ordered. The door eased open, and in came a disheveled Arya, covered in grime and mud. She looked a real sight, Lyon thought.
"Speak of the devil." The eldest grinned. "You've seen better days, Arya. Which gutter did you crawl through this time?"
"All of them." The littler replied, a mischievous smirk aimed at her sister, but she became solemn when she turned to her father.
"You know I had half my guard out searching for you. You said this would stop, Arya."
"They said they were going to kill you." She said. Lyon perked up, depositing her book on her father's desk.
"Who did?" Her father asked.
"I didn't see them, but I think one was fat."
"Oh, Arya."
"I'm not lying! They said you found the bastard and the wolves are fighting the lions and the savage... Something about the savage. And... and they mentioned you, Lyon."
Lyon rose from her seat and came to stand before her sister. "What did they say, Arya?"
"They said... they said you had lion's blood. They... think you're a Lannister."
Lyon exchanged a look with Ned, who asked: "Where did you hear this?"
"In the dungeons. Near the dragon skulls."
"What were you doing in the dungeons?"
"Chasing a cat," Arya said.
Lyon nearly rolled her eyes at her sister but fought the urge. She turned her back on the two and folded her arms over the chest. So, someone had come to suspect she wasn't a Stark. She should've expected this. It was so obvious. Such a Lannister like countenance could hardly be blamed on the Tully blade she could claim she had.
Another knock upon the door knocked her out of her thoughts. Lyon turned just as Jory Cassel poked his head through the door.
"Pardon, my Lord. There's a Night's Watchman here begging a word. He says it's urgent."
There was a brief moment where Jory met Lyon's eyes, but she turned away.
"Excuse me," she said quietly and slipped through the door past Jory, the Night's Watchmen standing idly by, and her sister.
"Jory," she could hear as she walked away. "Make sure she and Arya are returned safely to their rooms."
Lyon cursed under her breath and paused to wait for the two to catch up. She avoided Jory's eyes the best she could.
"Jory," Arya began, "How many guards does my father have?"
"Here in King's Landing?"
"Fifty." Lyon said, meeting their eyes. "I counted."
"You wouldn't let anyone kill him, would you?" Arya asked. There was a certain fear in her eyes that Lyon didn't take kindly to.
"No fear on that account, little Lady." He said with a faint smile. They walked for a little longer before depositing the young girl in her rooms, leaving Jory and Lyon outside. Alone.
She turned to walk first, and he fell in step beside her. They were both silent, an unspoken tension between them. They knew it wasn't safe to speak, not in these halls. When they finally reached Lyon's quarters, he stepped inside behind her, much to the displeasure of the knot growing in Lyon's stomach.
"So you're going after Lannisters now, is that it?" He leaned against the door, arms folded over his chest.
She sighed, made way for the wine decanter and poured. "I'm not going after anyone. It was harmless fun, is all. And so is this, Jory. Harmless fun. We don't love each other, and even if we did, we couldn't. Not with us being who we are."
"You think I don't know that?" He sprang forward from the door. His voice had risen, and Lyon's grip on her wine had tightened as he came closer to her. "I can't help whatever it is I feel, Lyon. And no matter what I feel, it is still unwise for you to chase after the Kingslayer."
"Don't call him that." She grumbled and sipped her wine.
"Why? How long have you been... cavorting with him?"
"I'm not cavorting with anybody except you, you dunce! The man is a knight, for God's sake. It was harmless fun. And he doesn't like it when people call him Kingslayer, from what I've heard."
"Why do you care what he doesn't like?"
"Because I'm not a complete arse! And for the same reason I do not call his brother 'The Imp'. It's rude, and I certainly wouldn't enjoy it if people called me what I really am."
"And what's that? A Lannister? There's been talk that you aren't what you seem. You've been spending so much time with the queen as of late- some would think you trust her more than your own father."
Lyon's knuckles had become white as she clutched the goblet in her hand.
"Get out."
"Lyon-"
"I said get out you filthy rat bastard! Get out, and don't you dare show your face in here again or I swear, I'll have your fucking head." Her hand found her blade from her mattress, her eyes glowing with madness, and the same madness seeming as though it was reflected in the steel of her blade. Jory watched the green of her eyes- watched as they glowed like wildfire. He backed toward the door, and each step he took back, she took forward.
"Jaime knows. About us."
"You can't do anything right, can you?" She hissed, her voice hardly recognizable anymore. The tip of her blade rose to his throat- and he slipped out of her room before she could draw blood.
"Your Grace, it is with deep regret that I ask you this, but it has come to my attention that I have been neglecting my family- my sisters. I would appreciate it if, for awhile, I may take my meals with them so that we may resume our meals in the future."
The Queen sat quietly, watching Lyon stand in front of her, hands folded behind her. Though Lyon did meet the queen's eyes; the queen could admire the girl's straight forwardness, though she sensed another meaning behind this confrontation.
"If that is what you wish, then of course. I would hate to keep you from your own family, my dear." The queen agreed, polite and curt. Lyon met the woman's gaze with a smile.
"Thank you, your Grace. I truly appreciate it."
As she made to leave, she heard the queen chuckle. "Of course, my little lion. But remember, you have more than one family now."
Lyon sat. Quiet and pondering, Arya cross-legged next to her as she absentmindedly flipped her blade. Lyon's hand slipped over and under the grip, never once losing the natural balance she had with her blade.
Arya came to stand beside her sister. "Why do they think you're a Lannister?"
Lyon grasped her blade as her sibling came close, then set it over her lap. "Because I don't look like a Stark."
"But you are a Stark, aren't you?"
"Of course!" Lyon twisted to eye her sister. She felt her brow draw downward. "It's just talk. Stark blood has and always will run through me, Arya. We are wolves. There isn't a drop of lion blood in me, I swear it on my own life."
"Those men seemed so sure." Arya sad. She gradually sat beside Lyon. "I think... I think you should let them believe you are."
The older cocked her head to the side. "Why's that?"
"Someone is trying to hurt father, I know it. I don't want them to hurt you too. And Lanni-"
"Lannisters protect their own." Lyon finished with a sigh. She leaned back against the wall where she sat. "You really heard someone saying they were going to hurt father?"
"I did. I promise."
"Then its the truth. And I'm going to get to the bottom of it. You said one of them was... large, correct?" Arya nodded. "Then I'll start the search there. And you-" Lyon poked Arya in the shoulder. "-are going to stay out of it. For now. As you said, I may have extra protection. And I've been playing this game for a long time."
Arya stared up at her older sister, frustration in the draw of her brow, but she finally relented to Lyon's decisions. "Fine."
"That's a good girl." Lyon murmured, and pulled her sister close. "I won't let anything bad happen to father- or any of us. I promise." She patted Arya's hair, but their heartfelt moment was cut short. A soft knock upon the door drew them apart, and they both rose to their feet.
"Come in," Lyon called. The door opened ajar, revealing the head of one of Ned Stark's guard- at least he was dressed like one of her father's guard men. The face of Raphael would stick in her mind forever.
"Might I speak with you, Lady Lyon?"
"Of course. Excuse me, Arya." She rose to her feet with her blade's hilt in hand. She had a second thought, then sheathed the blade and exited the room to stand outside with Raphael. They closed the door, walking several feet away.
"Now how did you manage that disguise, hm?" Lyon folded her arms and faced the man, who'd begun to smile.
"I have been at this game for a long time, my dear. I came to congratulate you on your endeavor, however it is rather unfortunate that you do not wish to work with us anymore. My sister was quite disappointed."
"I'm sure you understand that I have my reasons."
"Of course, of course. But don't you have more reasons to continue your valuable work, hm? What with all that has been coming and going. I did hear that a certain Lady of Winterfell has apprehended a certain dwarf."
Lyon grimaced. "She didn't..."
"Oh, but she did. I think it's a good idea to evaluate who is friend, and who is foe at this time, dear Lyon. Things are changing, faster than they seem to be. And though you have our protection... your mother does not." Raphael turned to walk away, and Lyon let him. She waited until he had disappeared around the corner, then she returned to her room.
It wasn't a threat, was it? She couldn't get that niggling thought out of the back of her head. She was his niece, and though they hadn't known each other for long, that had to mean something... right? But she was forgetting that Kingslanding was not the same as Winterfell. No, perhaps it wasn't a threat. Perhaps he was right.
If he was, then there was a greater number than just her mother who did not have the protection that they needed in the future.
Lyon peered into Arya's room, finding the younger girl swinging needle, skillfully replicating the maneuvers she remembered Syrio taught them.
"I'm going to speak with father, alright?"
Arya stopped her practice. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no. Not at all. I just wish to speak to him, is all." Arya shrugged her permission, and Lyon closed the door behind her before making her way to her father's chambers. They weren't a far stretch, rather close by. She introduced herself with a short series of knocks upon the door, and let herself inside when she heard his invitation.
He was sat at his desk, frowning over a series of parchment.
The door closed behind Lyon. "Is it true that mother has taken Tyrion?"
Ned sharply lifted his head. "Who told you that?"
"People talk. Too much. Is it true then?"
"I... yes. It is true."
"Then we're all doomed. Lovely." She strode toward an empty chair and slumped into it with a deep exhale. "I wish she'd get over this silly notion that Tyrion attacked Bran."
"Why do you trust him so much then?"
"It's not trust. I just happen to be an excellent judge of character."
"So you say." He murmured. Lyon's gaze flashed to him in displeasure before settling back to simply staring at one of the wall, or the curtains, or the curls of parchment upon the desk.
"What are we going to do?"
"You aren't going to do anything. I am going to do my best to... put your mother's actions behind us."
"Meaning you don't actually know what to do." Lyon chuckled. "I wonder if she ever thought about the impact her actions would have on us here? We're in the lion's domain. She might as well be a madwoman."
"She is your mother, and you will treat her with respect, Lyon." Ned rose, hands bracing on either side of his desk. His voice had undertaken an authoritative tone that Lyon only glared at him for.
"She's my mother as much as you are my father. And she has endangered us all." Lyon rose as well, turning on her heel as she left her father's rooms. Her fingernails dug deep into the palm of her hand, and each footstep down the hall seemed to boom. She hardly paid any mind to the steward as she haughtily sauntered past and into the privacy of her own chambers.
She took her nails from her palm and made way to the decanter, letting the wine and blood mingle with little thought.