Riverlands - Riverrun

Catelyn woke up early, earlier than her husband who she knew had a tendency to leave her in bed when he woke and complain that she was a heavy sleeper. She turned to look at Brandon, who's mouth was ajar and letting out small whispers of breaths. She smiled to herself. Though for not too long, remembering her agenda for the day. After watching Merida turn into a hot mess, Catelyn found it her duty to do something, anything, to help her. So she would go to her father and ask him to allow her to go to Dorne, and at least try and arrange for Oberyn Martell to meet her there. She knew the plan was naive, Oberyn would never leave his sister, family and vessel houses for a bastard. No one would. Catelyn saw Brandon begin to open his eyes and covered her head with the fur cover.

"Nice try," he mumbled moving the cover from her. "I saw you admiring me."

Catelyn scoffed. "You were merely a backdrop to my thoughts, get over yourself," Catelyn smiled, kicking him gently under the covers.

"Surprised but not disappointed," Brandon lazily joked. There was a knock on the room door and he groaned, "this room is cursed," he muttered getting up.

Catelyn stopped him by placing her hand gently on his chest. "No matter. Come in," she called out. Brandon looked at her quizzically. "We aren't doing anything wrong. I mean, I am your wife aren't I?" She whispered as the door opened.

My wife. Brandon thought, unsure of how exactly he felt about that phrase. He enjoyed her company and gods knew he needed it for he could not be alone with his thoughts or anger for too long, but he was nervous to return back to Winterfell. With only Ned and his father to keep him company outside of his wife, he knew he had some boring days to come.

"A letter for you my lord," the servant said, bowing her head respectfully as she gave it to him. "I wouldn't disturb you at this hour, but the Maester said it's from the King."

Brandon didn't even thank her before snatching the letter from her hands and ripping it open. "Thank you," Catelyn said, hinting that the girl's invitation to stay was quickly becoming outdated and she quickly shuffled outside. "What does it say?" She asked.

Brandon turned the letter to her. It was practically empty, albeit the three words that were written at the very bottom. Soon. Brandon tore it to shreds, leaving no piece untouched and let out a loud shout of anger. "I waited weeks for this?" He yelled. "Soon!? Soon!? Soon," his words became hysteric.

"I don't see why it bothers you so much, she's coming home soon," Catelyn responded, moving away from him afraid that he would accidentally move the wrong way and hit her.

Brandon looked at her and scoffed. "I pray Lysa is not practically kidnapped from under your nose and your family snubbed in front of the world. I'll see you at dinner," he said getting up from the bed and leaving her with the pieces of paper to hold onto. Catelyn didn't know how to respond and watched as he pulled on his clothes for the day and marched out of the room. It suddenly felt very cold.

...

"Soon! Soon!? Soon!?" Brandon repeated, marching into his brother's room. Ned was wide awake, seated at his table and eating breakfast while watching the sunrise through the small window in his room. Brandon scoffed at his poetic tactics.

Ned turned to Brandon and looked up at him confused. "Soon we're going home or soon father wants to see us?" He asked, playing around with his fruit platter.

Brandon frowned down at him and flicked his wrist. "No? What. No. I wrote to the King-,"

"Why are you like this?" Ned asked, rolling his eyes at his eccentric behaviour.

Brandon ignored him. "Asking the King when she would be allowed him and he wrote soon."

"Why are you so bothered? He has no loyalty to even respond to such a stupid letter," Ned said, shrugging his shoulders.

Brandon ignored his comment once more. "I'm going to Kingslanding, tonight, tell father in the morning and tell him not to come after me."

Ned stood from his seat in protest. "You can't, what about Catelyn?"

"Cat would fling herself from a mountain if I told her to," he said, rolling his eyes. Ned gave him a pointed look. "And I would do the same for her." He meekly responded neither of them believed that statement.

"You can't go, Brandon. You have Winterfell, father, your wife; duties to take care of," Ned reminded him, not wanting his brother to throw away everything his father had readied him for. Brandon looked at Ned silently, moving his head from left to right. Ned caught onto to his thought pattern. "Not in the hottest of hells," he said, refusing to even allow his brother to breathe the idea into life.

"Why do you care so little for our sister Ned?" Brandon asked, glaring at him.

"Why do you care so much?" Ned retorted, glaring back. "It's not a big deal honestly. So, she went to Kingslanding without telling us, she's coming back soon. Brandon, she's in the care of the royal family."

"I think you forget that the same King who took her is the same King they label Mad. The same king who cuts off his subject's tongues or better yet burns them in front of an audience for the shits and giggles. She needs a companion. A Stark, not just some loyalist she's met there. Someone she can talk to, please Ned."

Ned sighed and threw his head back. "I miss Winterfell," he said honestly, unsure if his reluctances were pure selfishness or his desire to keep as far away from the capital as possible.

"We all do," Brandon said, patting his brother on the back gently. "If he's telling the truth, you'll be back before you know it."

...

Winterfell. How Lyanna had missed it. She watched from the balcony as her brothers trained in the courtyard helped by the smiths and guards, and of course the master-at-arms. She smiled to herself as her father yelled insults, mainly at Brandon, as he covered his head in fright out of instinct at a sword that was flung at him. She walked to her Septa's room, peeking a look through the door. Her sister was practising sewing and talking quietly with her Septa about tales of the North. Every now and then she would give her work to the Septa, have it corrected and continue. Lyanna walked silently into the room, not wanting to upset the Septa, who did not favour her greatly and tapped Arianne's shoulder. She frowned at the lack of response by either of them, tapping her once more.

"Septa my shoulder hurts," Arianne complained, putting her work down and pressing at her shoulder. Her hand went right through Lyanna's as she did so. Lyanna jumped back in a fright, she tried tapping Arianne's shoulder again, only for it to go straight through this time. Shaking her head, Lyanna took a step back. She tried getting her attention by calling out her name.

"Arianne," she called. No response. "Oi. Arianne," she repeated. Nothing. "It's not funny, stop ignoring me." Huffing Lyanna tried tapping her shoulder again. Before she could though her sister's neck snapped and she looked at Lyanna. Lyanna jumped back in a fright. "Damned, you scared me," she said letting out a laugh.

Arianne didn't laugh along with her, she merely stood from her seat and glowered down at her. "Leave him and go."

"W-what're you talking about?" Lyanna asked. Almost at the blink of an eye, Lyanna notice her hair turning a dirty silver and her skin a pale milky tone, she let out a gasp and fell back onto the floor. "What the blazing hells?" She frowned. Again, it seemed like she blinked and she was stood in front of a large castle, with endless towers and a guarded by a city wall. She guessed it was Kingslanding, she'd seen the flaming thing hundreds of times in her Maester's books, drawn out perfectly.

"That's mine," the whisper of her sister's voice came. Lyanna tried to push herself from the now dirt covered floor but couldn't find the strength to do so. She felt the ground shake under her and felt wind pass her by. A rider, wearing a silver armour with a painted three-headed dragon and with the helm of a dragon. "That's mine," Arianne's voice repeated, almost mimicking her fearful tone as she turned it into a chant.

Lyanna looked up at her sister, wondering why she was being so odd. As if out of thin air, three baby dragons appeared on her body, scratching at her dress and skin trying to hold themselves up. They cough out sparks of fire, and squawked like helpless birds. "Their mine."

Lyanna tried to reply, but couldn't. It felt like there was a rock shoved down her throat keeping her from talking. She tried to scratch at her throat, but looked behind her to see her hands tied behind her back around a wooden pole. She let out a scared hum, her mouth now covered with a piece of cloth. She tried screaming out to her sister, but she had her back turned to her, and was watching as the ride galloped around the terrain and the dragons, now grown flew in the sky circling the city. The image went dark. Lyanna felt her heart beat through her chest and began to shake. The sound of the horse's hooves got louder, torture almost. There were shrill screeches made by the dragons followed by the ground shaking and the sound of something heavy impacting with the floor. She wanted to scream out; "make it stop!" But couldn't. So, she listened to the noises as she tried to free her hands.

After a while, her feet began to tingle and her body itch. She felt hot and smelt burning ash. 'No.' She thought to herself, feeling as though she was being suffocated, unable to breathe. The sounds of the explosions got louder. Boom boom boom.

"Lyanna! Open the door will you!?" Robert's loud voice woke her from her nightmare. Lyanna sat up from her bed, clutching her neck and gasping for air. Her covers were sprawled on the floor and her bed was covered in her sweat. She stood from her bed and quickly walked to the water bowl her maid had left her earlier that night and dunked her head inside. Robert's thumping and shouts were muffled and Lyanna felt at ease.

Remerging her head from the bowl she wiped her face clean with her sleeve and said, "leave me, Robert. I'm sleeping."

"Oh," Robert protested. "You nay sleeping my love if you're talking!" He said. He was as drunk as he could be. So she did the sensible thing, ignored him. "Lyanna please open the door, I just want to talk," Robert slurred once more, picking up his hand to hit against the door once more but not finding the energy to do even that.

Lyanna rolled her eyes, unsure if she liked the new side to Robert she was seeing. "Go away." She repeated. "If I must say it again, I'll call the guards Robert." She shouted, feeling her voice shake as she did so. Picking up her covers from her bed and crawled back in, closing her eyes and hoping to erase all memories of that dream by the time the sun came up.

Robert grunted, angry that Lyanna would reject such an innocent gesture in such a manner. He threw the flowers he had picked from the gardens onto the floor in a fit and stomped down the stairs. When he woke next, he found himself wrapped around a soft plush bed in the arms of three women who chittered and played with his hair as he blinked awake.

"Good morning handsome," one smiled planting a small kiss on his lips.

Before Robert could respond, however, the door was swung open by Ned. "Neddy!" He called out, still very drunk.

"Get to the castle before they start looking for you," he said looking up at the brothel's ceiling.

Robert rolled his eyes at his friend's chivalry. "They're whores Ned. Looking's free. Isn't it dears?" He drawled admiring their bodies, the woman giggled along with him, amused by Ned's exaggerated manner.

He had covered his eyes with his hand and was talking to Robert, looking very foolish in the process. "Will you run to a whore's open legs for comfort whenever my sister upsets you? Because if so, I don't think there will be enough whores in Storms End for that."

Robert looked at him offended by his honesty. "Are you going to leave me to get my money's worth or not?"

...