Work Text:
Sleep hasn’t come easily to her since Harrenhal, so even the quiet footsteps rouse her quickly from her rest. Arthur crosses the room in three long strides the instant he notices her roll to face him. He crouches down at her bedside until he’s close enough that she can feel his breath on her face.
“The Lord Commander has sent word from the Capital. He’s riding for us.” Arthur's eyes seem to age decades as he continues. “Rhaegar is preparing to meet Lord Baratheon and your brother at the Trident.”
“If he would allow me to send word to Ned-” She starts, the desperation she’s been feeling for months creeping into her voice.
“You know why His Grace refuses. And you know that he’s right, milady. Lord Stark would hardly take a raven as proof, and you can’t risk traveling to see him.” He looks pointedly at her rounded belly.
She lets out a sigh. “It doesn’t make me like it. I hate sitting here while men are dying.” The words make her feel like a petulant child.
Arthur moves as if to touch her cheek and then thinks better of it. She wishes he wouldn’t think quite so much around her.
“I’m sorry to have woken you, milady. Try and get some rest.”
“Arthur.” He stops mid-stride, white cloak twisting as he moves to face her.
“Yes, milady?”
Her breath comes out in a huff, and for a moment she thinks about saying all the things she’s bottled inside these last months. Instead, she says, “I hate it when you call me that.”
His facade finally breaks a bit, and his mouth quirks up into a smirk. “I know that, milady.” Lyanna shakes her head at him, although a smile plays at the corner of her lips.
“Goodnight Arthur.”
He nods in farewell and closes the door behind him. Lyanna sinks further into the mattress, eyes fixed on the wooden ceiling above her, trying desperately to keep them open for a bit longer. She’s haunted by images of a battlefield, Ned lying dead and bloodied atop the Stark banners. His blood stains her hands, but no matter how hard Lyanna fights, she can never reach him.
In the waking world, Lyanna has taken to washing her hands so often that Ser Oswell joked they’d soon need to divert the course of the Torentine.
___________________________________________
Three days later the raven comes with word of Rhaegar’s death. Lyanna weeps for him, though she mostly just feels relieved. She hates herself for it, and yet she cannot wish the father of her babe alive at the cost of her brother. Blood still stains her hands, but Lyanna no longer dwells on death in her dreams. Rhaegar chose his path.
The Kingsguard that protect her are devastated by the news of their Prince’s death. Ser Oswell drinks himself into a stupor, and Arthur hardly speaks in the days that follow. He goes for a walk and returns with a set of bloody knuckles. Lyanna tends to them silently.
The quiet is broken when Lord Commander Hightower reaches the Keep, bringing with him the news that is sweeping through Dorne. “Princess Elia and the children are dead. Murdered by the Lannisters in the name of King Robert.”
Lyanna can barely hold in the gasp from her lips, hands coming to rest at her belly without conscious thought.
“Traitorous bastards.” Ser Oswell spits out.
Arthur’s eyes flick to her in a silent apology. “Robert Baratheon will kill the babe if he finds Lady Lyanna. The child is a danger to his new reign.”
“We can bring the child to Essos, or the North of the Wall. They’ll be safe enough there until they can take back the Iron Throne.”
Her hands tighten around her belly. “My child will not be raised like a lamb to a slaughter. I will not raise them to take back something that is a death sentence for those who sit on it.”
Lord Commander Hightower looks taken aback, forgetting that he is speaking to a wolf and not a dragon. “My apologies, My Lady. I’m afraid that I was not thinking of the babe. Rhaegar would have wanted them to sit on the throne.” He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. “I loved Rhaegar, but Rhaegar got himself killed. Princess Elia didn’t deserve her fate, any more than you would, My Lady. I, well I-”
“I think raising his child to be happy and safe would do far more to honor Rhaegar’s memory than raising a conqueror would.” Arthur cuts in. Lyanna looks at him gratefully, as the Lord Commander and Ser Oswell nod in agreement.
“Secrecy will be the best cloak for the babe. No one will be looking for someone they don’t know exists.”
“You’ll have to tell Robert I died.” She’d known deep down, even as foolish and naive as she was when she left home all those months ago, that she wouldn’t ever be able to go back. “It’s the only way he’ll stop looking for me.”
“We’ll need proof, My Lady. Robert won’t trust the word of the people most loyal to Rhaegar.”
“Ned. Robert would trust Ned’s word.”
“We can’t risk it, My Lady. Lord Stark fought to overthrow the Targaryens. That babe is the only one of them left.”
“The lone wolf dies but the pack survives,” Lyanna says. “Ned will not abandon me. Howland Reed has sworn a debt to me. Send him a raven. He’ll bring Ned to us.”
The Lord Commander nods decisively a single time. “I’ll send the raven at first light.”
___________________________________________
Oswell corners him during their night watch. “We’re not all coming out of this alive, and even if we do, three knights, a lady, and a babe are far too obvious. Someone will have to go with Lyanna, and that person needs to be you.”
“It’s the Lord Commanders right.”
“Don’t be a fucking idiot. The Lord Commander is far too old to protect them for as long as they’re going to need it, and you're the best swordsman in the land. It needs to be you.”
“I can’t just tell Hightower that I’m going with them.”
“Lyanna will demand it. You know she will.” Arthur does know this. Knowing what Lyanna thinks of him keeps him up at night half the time, and the other half he is plagued by dreams of what he feels for his dead brother’s lover.
“You need to not be an idiot about her.”
Arthur looks up at him, startled. “I haven’t done anything dishonorable-”
“Seven Hells, Arthur. I’m telling you to be dishonorable for once in your damn life.” Oswell has never spoken in such a serious tone in all the day’s that Arthur has known him. “The girl likes you and it’s plain as day that you like her just as much.”
“She’s carrying Rhaegar’s child!” He says hotly. “Not to mention the vows I swore. Would you have me forsake my honor?”
“Rhaegar is dead. And you know as well as I do, that for all of Rhaegar’s golden words, Lyanna would never have forgiven him. He promised her freedom and locked her in a tower instead. His promises got her family killed. The only thing she felt for him at the end was resentment.” Oswell claps him on the shoulder. “I’m asking you not to throw away your chance at happiness for a ghost. For your sake and hers.”
___________________________________________
In the morning, Lyanna seeks out Arthur on the battlement. As the only spot for her to get fresh air, Lyanna has been a frequent visitor during her stay, with Arthur as her faithful companion. It is not often anymore that she feels nervous around the knight, but she can’t help her hands from twisting into the skirts of her gown. They stand in silence for a time, simply watching the sun rise above the Red Mountains.
“I want you to come with me.” She finally says. “I know that not all of us can flee to Essos, but Arthur...”
“I’ve already spoken to Lord Hightower about it. He’s arranging passage for us to Essos.” Arthur keeps his gaze steadily on the brightening horizon.
Relief courses through her veins. “Thank you. I don’t know how to tell you how much having you with us will mean to me.”
He does not move his gaze from the rising sun. Lyanna hesitates, waging an internal war, before rising on the edge of her toes to kiss his stubbled cheeks. She turns away before he can see her blush and makes quickly for the stairs.
“Milady.”
The Sword of the Morning is on his knees before her, hands resting on the pommel of Dawn.
Lyanna’s hands flutter uselessly to his forearms. “You don’t need to, Arthur.”
His eyes meet her own as steadily as they had the horizon moments earlier. “My life is already your, milady. Pledging you my sword is a mere formality.”
Her hands intertwine with his.
“I offer to you my sword, that I may protect you from harm. I pledge to you my shield, that I may shelter you all the days of your life. I swear to you my life, that I may stand beside you from this day until my last. I offer you all that I have to give, and I swear to serve you in all the ways you require. This I vow to you, on the old gods and the new.” His lips press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. They stay like that, the Knight and the Lady, haloed by the blazing sun, until Lyanna’s rumbling stomach forces them back into the keep.
___________________________________________
Howland Reed fulfills his debt to her. Within a fortnight, Ned and a number of Stark bannermen have reached the tower, weary and dusty from the hard ride.
Arthur sits with Lyanna in the highest room of the tower, going against every single one of his instincts. Lyanna watches as his knuckles turn white on the pommel of Dawn.
They can’t hear the clanging of swords from their height, but Arthur hears them in his mind, the same way he hears the cries of his brothers in arms, as they let the Northmen slaughter them. Lyanna isn’t stupid, but the Kingsguard were careful not to tell the Lady of their plans, in the hopes of keeping their blood off her hands.
Ned Stark and Howland Reed are the only men who can know the truth of Lyanna Stark. The Northern bannermen are sacrifices to be made for the safety of Rhaegar’s heir, for the innocent who does not deserve its legacy, and Arthur prays to the Father for the forgiveness.
___________________________________________
Lord Stark alone charges up the stairs of the tower, and for that Arthur is grateful, if only for Lyanna’s sake. She would have been devastated to watch him slay one of her father’s bannermen.
Ned makes it two steps into the room before the Sword of the Morning stops him.
“Who survived?” Arthur asks, his voice flat.
“The Kingsguard are all dead, Dayne. You should have fought with them.”
“If I had Stark, you would have died.” He steps a bit closer to the young Lord. “How is it that you are the only survivor, boy?”
“Where’s my sister?” The fool asks instead. Arthur could have slaughtered him half asleep if he’d been of a mind to.
“Answer my question and I’ll answer yours, boy.”
“Howland Reed survives.”
Arthur bites back the sigh of relief as he lowers his sword. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lyanna slip out of the darkness.
“Lyanna,” the boy says in a breathless whisper. “Gods, Lyanna!”
The Stark children rush into each other’s arms.
Arthur steps back for a moment, allowing the two siblings a moment to hold each other. He knows Lyanna will take comfort from it in the years of separation that will follow. In the rush of seeing his beloved sister again, Arthur supposes Ned has yet to notice her rounded belly, but the instant the boy steps back, Arthur sees the sudden realization in his eyes.
___________________________________________
Robert,
Lyanna is dead. I found her dying of fever in a bed of blood.
The missing three members of Aerys’ Kingsguard were at the Tower. My men killed Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, Ser Oswell Whent, and Ser Arthur Dayne, though only Howland Reed and I survive.
I travel now to return my sister to Winterfell, though I will go north by way of Starfall to return Dawn to the Dayne’s.
I stand with you in our grief, my brother.
Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North