Triangle

Northern Party

She awoke to the sounds of chattering, metal falling onto metal and birds singing around the forest trees. Arianne could not help but remember Winterfell, with the banners around her reminding her of the home that once was.

She sat up, groaning in discomfort. The wooden cage she was put in was big enough for her to sit up in, and outstretch her legs, only in the slightest. Beside her sat an untouched tray of cold broth, water and dry bread. Arianne pushed that away, crossing her legs. It was not lost on her that many of those who passed by her had been watching, even those who were sitting down were watching. She wasn't sure what exactly, she wasn't that interesting.

Her eyes locked with Ethan Glover, the son of a bannerman, the red-haired boy averted his eyes. She huffed, there was no one she recognised enough to plead for her release. The tent in front of her rustled, and Brandon stepped out, gazing down at Arianne. He didn't say anything and simply went about his day. After a few moments a girl left the tent, tightening the belt on her dress.

"Olivia?" Arianne called out in shock. What were the chances that the woman who had been her maid at Harrenhal was now ... well she was ... Brandon's bed warmer?

The girl's head snapped towards Arianne and her eyes widened, the colour from her face draining. Olivia looked like she had seen a ghost. She had heard Brandon's voice the day before, proclaiming of having the Queen in a cage, but she had chosen to stay in the tent and refused to believe it. She went by the name Hilly now, and the fact that Arianne had remembered her name flattered Oliva.

Olivia brushed her skirts down, sent an apologetic look towards Arianne, and followed after Brandon like a lost puppy. Arianne sighed, taking the stale bread and biting into it. It was rock hard, so she placed it back onto the tray and placed her hand on her stomach.

Sorry Baelor, she thought to herself, worried for her unborn son more than anything. Brandon wouldn't be as cruel as he was letting out to be, would he?

After an entire day of watching the Northerner's go about their day, Arianne grew thirsty, and reached for the cup of water. It tasted odd, but she drank it still, not realising how thirsty she had become.

"Is our food not good enough for you, your grace?" It was Lyanna's voice. Arianne looked up at the girl towering over the cage.

Arianne put her cup down, "it was stale."

"Right, unlike the freshly cooked ones in the Keep," she sat down next to Arianne, realising how badly her joke had come out. The only thing that separated them now was the wooden cage. Arianne was unsure of how Lyanna wanted her to respond, so she merely blinked at her. Lyanna sighed, "Brandon wishes to kill Rhaegar, and plans to do so very soon."

"He'd never get close enough," Arianne scoffed, knowing full well those loyal to Rhaegar would never let him die without a fight.

Lyanna's grey eyes looked in Arianne's, as if to say don't speak too soon. "He means to draw him out, alone. A bargain. Come and collect you, then he will offer a trial by combat, one on one."

"So, end it now and let me out!" Arianne whispered, wrapping her hand around the wooden cage and pleading to Lyanna.

"I can't," Lyanna responded, her eyes welling up. She swallowed the lump that had grown on her throat. "He's coming, Rhaegar. With his party, I'm sure you know who your men are."

"What am I supposed to do with this information Lyanna!?" Arianne blurted, angered that the girl who had once been her sister, was now her close cousin by marriage, was taunting her. Was she to write a raven to Rhaegar and send it to him? Was she to visit him in his dreams?

"I-I just wanted to help."

"Lyanna?"

She stood from the floor and shook off her pants. "Yes?" It was Robert. He had called her from their tent and was wondering what she was doing sat next to the hostage.

"What're you doing?"

"She's with child Robert, I am a woman. I can have compassion," Lyanna responded, her voice harsh as she spoke to her husband. Robert looked between them and returned to their tent. "Honestly," Lyanna muttered, waiting until the tent flap had closed. "Look, just. Just let Rhaegar know to refuse a one on one fight with Brandon." She nodded once and marched away from Arianne.

Tell Rhaegar to refuse combat. Okay, that's simple enough. Brandon-

Her repetitive thoughts were interrupted by Brandon, who tapped onto the cage with his foot. A maid slipped her hand into the cage, taking out the bowl of broth, bread and empty cup. She then replaced it with a new steaming bowl of broth, one that took a tedious amount of time to place into the cage, some of it spilling onto the floor. She added bread and a pouch of water.

"Eat." Brandon instructed her, crouching down to speak to her. "We don't want the King to think we're mistreating you now do we?"

Arianne glared up at him, kicking the food away. Perhaps it was premature, but she wanted to show Brandon how angry she was with him. He was deeply mistaken if he believed she'd roll over and obey. The broth spilled; coating Brandon's leather boots dark brown. He chuckled, standing up and shaking his foot.

"Are you going to kill me?" Arianne asked him, backing away to the other end of the cage.

There was a rustle behind her, and she felt someone cling onto a cluster of her hair. She then heard a snip. Roose moved from behind her and handed Brandon the cut hair. The entire length of her had been cut, and she reached back. The spot where it had been was now bare. She had never cut her hair, so it was long enough for Rhaegar to know it was Arianne's.

Brandon swayed the cluster, brushing it gently with his hand and giving it back to Roose. "Send it to him."

"Are you going to kill me Brandon!?" Arianne repeated, her hair the last of her priorities at the moment. Rhaegar had Tywin by his side to keep him calm, she wasn't worried. Or so she told herself.

"No, of course I'm not going to kill you Arianne," Brandon responded. "But I will kill your husband," he looked down at her stomach, "and eventually every last Targaryen I lay my eyes on." She covered her stomach with her hand quickly, there was no chance he'd be touching any of her children. He raised a brow, "I know the twins are at Sunspear, that is where I will go first. I might take you with me, give Roose a Southern wedding. He deserves it after all his hard work," Brandon chuckled lightly.

"Brandon," she tried to sit so she got a better look at him, "you have time to call this off. You have time to speak with Rhaegar. He is forgiving, he knows mercy-,"

"Mercy?" Brandon scoffed, "he cut the hand of my wife's cousin as a response to a message. His – your family killed my father. You killed my father! Am I to thank the Targaryen's for the slight?"

"Rhaegar didn't kill fa-."

"Don't you dare!" He opened the latch to the cage door, dragging her out by her arm. "Don't you dare call my father your own. You are the daughter of a Mad King."

Arianne tried to free herself from his grip, but her body was slowly giving up on her. The lack of food, comfort and Baelor in her stomach had worn her out. "Let me go Brandon."

"Or what, you'll hide behind your brother?"

Arianne spat in his face; a tool she was finding very useful as of late. Brandon flinched back, wiping the spit from his cheek. They stood in silence, dark grey eyes staring into purple ones. Oh, gods. Arianne thought to herself. "You are angry, not at Rhaegar, but because of Rhaegar." She had figured him out. Arianne let out a deranged laugh, unable to believe Brandon.

"What?" Brandon asked her, his hand wrapped around her arm tightly.

"Starks, quick tempered, slow minded."

"What are you talking about?"

"You are angry because I married Rhaegar, you are angry Rhaegar is provided the one thing you never got. And Brandon Stark always gets his way, isn't that right?"

Brandon froze at her words; he pushed her back into the cage and closed the door behind her. "Even in imprisonment you are full of yourself." That was not why he was here. He was here to avenge his father. He was here to take the Targaryen's from the Throne. He was here to give the North what it always wanted. Perhaps Arianne was just a small side note to it, he could not deny that.

Arianne shook her head, laying down on the floor. "I will pray Rhaegar guts you like the animal you are." She was truly tired of it now, Brandon was not to be reasoned with, nor was she. "Enjoy the last days of life you have."

Brandon ignored her words, his bed warmer, Hilly as he had known her as, or her true name, Oliva, scurried towards him once she had located the one man, she had latched onto from the Riverlands. Brandon tried hard to forget Arianne's words, there was no way Rhaegar would better him in skill and strength. He'd kill him. He'd kill his whole family. And then the North would know peace.

"Hello, you," Brandon smiled, reaching over to pull Hilly into a kiss.

Arianne ignored them, waiting until the tent flap closed behind them to get comfortable. Unable to ignore the sounds of chatter that came from around the camp, and moaning that came from Brandon's tent, she was awake all day. As she had promised Brandon, praying Rhaegar killed him. Preferably tomorrow.

...

Kingswood

Tywin pulled a long cluster of hair from the envelope, his face turning sour as he did so. He placed the dark hair onto the table, growing uncomfortable as the council stared at it.

Rhaegar knew by just looking at it was Arianne's, the. very same hair that he had run his hands through hundreds of times.

"Well, at least it's not her head," Oberyn sighed, "so, she is with them. What do we do now?" Rhaegar moved from the other end of the table, picking up the hair from the table and gazing longingly at it. "Now is not the time to be a depressed man Rhaegar, we must move quickly."

They were all stood around a makeshift table, a map at the centre, and the newly arrived envelope on top of it.

"He asks for an open meeting with you, your grace," Tywin said, reading the letter that had accompanied the hair. "You and I. Life as a champion."

Oberyn stared at Tywin suspiciously. Two days before, when they had left Kingslanding, Tywin had tried convincing Rhaegar of leaving a few Lannister men behind. And Oberyn, being the good friend he was, suggested they leave not only Lannister, but men from all vessels and bannermen, to which Rhaegar agreed.

"Just in case Brandon tries to pull you from your feet, and Tywin chooses the winning side," Oberyn had told Rhaegar once they had been alone. Rhaegar, who never could think wrong of his allies shrugged it off.

"That sounds like a trap," Arthur piped up from beside Rhaegar, "a very badly laid out trap, Rhaegar don't even consider it."

"That is my wife he holds with him. My wife and babe," Rhaegar reminded them. He had not slept for two nights, waiting for the sun to rise so they could restart their travels to meet Brandon. They were close now. Close enough for Brandon to send a hundred ravens an hour, mocking Rhaegar. "I will go," there was protests around him, "we search the area before meeting. If he is planning an ambush, a messenger can run back and inform you. Does that sound fair?"

"By which you will already be dead," Oberyn tutted. "No. You cannot meet him. The quicker the battle is finished, the quicker she is freed, the quicker this all ends for all of us."

"The Prince is right, your grace," Tywin said, "you cannot go. Wait until battle, you can meet him there."

There was no way in seven hells he'd miss the opportunity at getting back Arianne and winning the war with little blood spilt. So, he nodded to them, allowing them to leave the tent thinking he'd follow their counsel.

When Rhaegar was sure those who would try and stop him were sleeping, he wrote a letter to Brandon;

I will meet you by the Kingswood's western exit. Bring my wife.

Rhaegar.

He folded the letter and attached it to a raven.

Now all he had to do was wait.

...