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Chapter Text

Lyanna Stark, heiress of the NorthStark Property Development Corp., was called into her father’s study one afternoon. She walked through the large halls where her ancestors had walked for several generations. It was about time to step into it, she mused. When she found the door, she gently opened it and found her father sitting on one of the couches with several documents in his hands, reading.

“You called me, Papa?” 

His father looked up through his glasses and smiled at her. For years since her mother had died, her father would always tell her how she looked like Lyarra Stark more and more each day.

“Ah, Lyanna, come sit beside your old Papa.”

She rolled her eyes as she approached him.

“Papa! You’re 50, that is not old at all.”

She removed several documents beside her father and placed them on the coffee table as she sat beside him. As her father placed his arm around her shoulders, she asked,

“How are you, dearest?”

“I’m good. It’s nice to be back here. I have missed this place, and you, of course. As well as my brothers.”

“I’m glad you’re back. Don’t ever leave me that long again. Even if North University is just a drive away from here, you barely visit me. And when you’re here, you would rather be in the stables with the horses.”

“I’m so sorry, Father. I just…I mean, I know you’re just here. I just miss riding. I never had the opportunity there. I have too much work. It’s the only time I can get my mind out of my studies.”

“I understand, my Lya. I truly do, but I just missed you. Now, tell me, what are your plans now that you have graduated?”

“I actually want to work for you, with Brandon. But I don’t want to be in the same field as he does. I want to create something that involves history and education in our corporate social responsibility and of course public relations.”

“I see. We’ll see something about it, okay? Now, why don’t you enjoy your riding today? It’s a lovely day.”

“I already have this morning. Do you know when Brandon will be back? Or Benjen?”

“You know, Brandon! Always out whenever he can. He thinks because he’s old enough, he can just do what he wants.”

She just smiles and removes herself from the couch.

“Well, I want to spend the rest of the afternoon with  you. I will go prepare some tea, and I will help you with whatever it is that you’re doing.”

“That would be wonderful, sweetheart. Go and make us some tea. I’ll be here.” 

An hour has passed when finally her father has put down the documents and his eyeglasses. He pulled out an envelope that seemed like an invitation.

“What do you have there, Lord Stark?”

Her father smiled at his nickname, only Lyanna calls.

“It’s an invitation for this thing a month from now.”

“What’s the event?”

Instead of just informing her what’s inside, he passed it to her.

“See for yourself.”

“Hmm,” she said as she carefully took the elegant card and opened it to read it.

“It’s a charity event.”

“Yes, it is. Apparently, Walter Whent is hosting the Harrenhal Charity Ball this year. It would be nice for all my children to be there with me.”

“Ned will be there? Truly?”

“Yes. Although he’s learning at the Vale, he’s still a Stark and one day will be taking care of the family business with you, Brandon, and Benjen.”

“Wait, how can you be sure I will attend?”

“Because I am asking you to. Not commanding, asking.”

“I’m just jesting. Of course, I will be there. Since you promised that you will be there as well as my brothers.” She said, smiling.

“That’s good. Also, it would be a good time for you to meet Robert. It’s about time.”

“Robert who? Baratheon? Ned’s best friend? Why do I want to meet him?”

“Because it would be good for you to actually start dating. Not once you have brought anyone here for us to meet.”

“That’s because I have not the time to date Papa. Why would I want to date this Baratheon? I don’t even know him, well, apart from what I read in the papers.”

“Well, Ned said that he has been wanting to meet you. He started becoming interested in you through Ned’s stories of his childhood and his life here at home.”

“Oh my gods! Please don’t tell me you want me to date him and eventually become engaged and marry the heir of StagMotors!”

“It…could come to that eventually.”

“No!” she said indignantly.

“Does he know about this?” she added.

“Yes, Ned has already talked to him about it. And he said Robert is a good man.”

“How can you do this to me? I’m your only daughter. We no longer live in a century where arranged marriage is accepted or the only way. Have you any love for me at all that you want to sell me to the highest bidder!? And good man? I doubt it, I highly doubt it. Haven’t you heard enough scandal that goes with his name? How many women? And you want me to be a part of his conquest?” she said angrily, standing up and leaning on her father’s desk with her hands on her waist.

“Look, Lya, sweetling, it’s not like that…”

“Then what is it? Explain it to me.”

“Those are just rumours, and besides he only wants to meet you. We’ll see if you get along, and you could go out a couple of times if he asks you. If you really don’t like him, then you can stop going out with him and let me know. We’ll find someone else for you.”

“Find someone else for me? No, Papa, I will find someone else for me. I will give you this, I will meet Ned’s friend but I will not promise you anything. I will be civil. But I’m telling you now that I will not like him! And I will not be one of his conquests.”

With that, she walked out of her father’s study and slammed the door. As she ran outside of the main house, she went directly to the stables. She took her horse out and rode her as fast and as far as she could. 

When she returned, she ran back straight to her room and sorted out her things to get the news out of her head. When she was busy with her things, a knock came.

“Come in.”

The door opened and there Brandon’s head peeked out. She stood up immediately and ran to her brother. She jumped and put her arms around him.

“You’re back!”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Good. That’s good. I know the uni isn’t that far, but gods Lya, it’s so lonely without you here!”

“I’m sorry, Brandon. I’m just busy with school.”

“It’s okay. Have you seen Papa yet?”

“Of course, I have. And I kind of regret it a bit.”

They walked towards her sitting room and sat on one of the couches.

“Is this about Robert Baratheon?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“He talked to me about it, even with Benjen.”

“And not anyone of you decided to tell me about this?”

“It’s not like that, Lya. He told us he wants to be the one to tell you because it was his and your decision here. I honestly don’t like the idea of it.”

She sighed.

“Thank you. I’m glad you feel the same. Has Father done anything like this with you?”

“He did. With Catelyn Tully. Remember her? Shipping heiress?”

“Yeah, I do. I met her once. What happened?”

“Nothing. You know me. I will be forever a bachelor,” he said, grinning.

“I know you will be. I mean, how can you not? You will fuck anything with a skirt.”

“Hey! Watch your mouth, young lady.”

She nudged his elbow on Brandon’s rib.

“Ow! But seriously, don’t worry about it. I will be here. Ben too. Ned might do his best to convince you, only because he’s his friend and he is blinded by that friendship. But not me. I have heard stories about Baratheon. I don’t trust him. But I will let you be the judge of it. Just be civil. You don’t have to marry him. Father’s just worried about you not dating, I think.”

“Fine. I will do that. I know I can count on you and Ben. I can’t even understand how Papa is suddenly interested in my dating life. It’s not like I’m a spinster. Gods, how can Ned even…Arghhh! I don’t want to think about it.”

“Then don’t. Come on. Dinner’s ready. Don’t let Papa wait that long, he’s getting old.” He winked and laughed as he walked out of her room.

She sighed and followed him. 

The next morning was a complete surprise for Lyanna. The noises she heard were closer than she would like as her eyes were still closed. Murmurings and a mention of her name…

“Do you think she’s still breathing?”

“Of course she is, you half wit!”

“But she’s not moving, maybe we should call Father.”

“No. Lemme handle this…”

She opened her eyes and saw a hand about to reach her nose, as Brandon would always do to her when waking her up. She grabbed it and suddenly sat on the bed.

“I’m alive, you know!”

“We know, sis! Ben here is convinced you’re not.”

Then she finally looked at her youngest brother and pulled Benjen towards her.

“Oh my gods, little brother! You’re home!”

She hugged him tightly as Ben struggled…

“Let me go, Lya.” He said in a muffled voice.

When she finally let go, Benjen stood back up and fixed his shirt.

“I missed you, Benjen. It’s just you? Where’s Ned?”

“He’ll be here this evening, I think.” Brandon answered.

“Okay.”

“Come on, Lya, get up and let’s have breakfast together. Then we can go riding afterwards.”

After a few minutes of bantering and eating, the Stark heirs and heiress sans Eddard went out on horseback riding until they reached the Godswood. Where they let the horses rest.

Lyanna put her arms around Benjen and allowed her head to rest on his shoulder.

“I missed you, Ben. Gods, I wish you could have been in the same uni as I did, but instead you decided to go to Castle Black University.”

“I know, Lya. I’m sorry, but it was much better for me there. You fit more at NU.”

“By the way, Ned said he’d be bringing the Stag here,” Brandon said, interrupting her and Ben.

She immediately turned her head to her eldest brother…

“WHAT?!?! How dare he!? When did you know of this?”

“Just this morning. Father told me, that’s why we took you out here. We can’t have you acting like this in front of Father.”

“And why not? He’s the one who approves of this! I’m not some cow to be sold. I am a person!”

She started pacing in front of her brother, seething with anger. Until finally, Brandon put a stop to it.

“Look, Lyanna, just humour him, okay. I will have you sat between me and Ben here, don’t worry about Robert. I will make him kiss my fist before he does anything. We won’t leave you, I promise, right, Ben?”

“Yeah, we promise.”

She sighed heavily and looked up to Brandon,

“I will hold on to your word.” 

It was already an hour before dinner when she heard a car pull up in front of the mansion. She knew Ned and his friend were here. She ignored and allowed Brandon or Benjen to face them. She didn’t think that she could look Ned directly in the eye after all the information and scheme that she just got. And so she settled there in the morning room, reading her book.

A few minutes later, Brandon came fetching her to see Ned. She followed the eldest reluctantly and finally took a deep breath to see what was coming her way. She finally saw Ned and beside him a very tall, broad-shouldered man, with ocean blue eyes and dark hair. She thought him handsome, but that is as far as she could go with that compliment.

Ned came to her and hugged her, which she awkwardly and reluctantly returned. In his ear, she whispered forcefully,

“I will never forgive you. Get your arms off of me.”

Ned was taken aback by her words and looked at her in shock. To lessen the tension, Brandon cleared his throat and finally introduced the guest,

“Lyanna, this is Robert Baratheon.”

Robert Baratheon, the heir to StagMotors, the largest automobile company in the whole south of Westeros, looked at her like he was besotted, but there was something in his eyes and the way he looked at her that made her uncomfortable.

“It’s finally good to meet you, Lyanna. I have heard so much about you from Ned.”

He reached out for her hand and took it. As he was about to raise her hand to his lips, she immediately pulled it away. With that, she put her head and chin up,

“I would appreciate it if you would address me as Ms. Stark, Mr. Baratheon. I have heard so much about you too, mostly read, actually. Enjoy your stay here.”

Then she looked at Brandon,

“I’m going out.”

With that, she quickly walked away and went to her room to grab her car keys and out the house to drive. Leaving her brothers and Robert Baratheon in shock. 

Whilst Lyanna was gone, Ned immediately approached Robert to dissolve the awkwardness that Lyanna left,

“I apologize for my sister. She must have been tired from the ride. Isn’t she, Brandon?”

“Yes, she was quite exhausted. Ned, why don’t you take our guest to his room?”

There, they were left by Brandon and Benjen, hoping they would find Lyanna.

As they walked through the halls of their mansion,

“I thought you said she would be happy to meet me?” Robert asked.

“She’s just tired. I thought so too. So something must have happened. She’s not like this. She’s very accommodating. Especially when we have guests. Ever since Mum passed, she has always acted as the hostess.”

“You’re absolutely right. My gods, Ned, she’s so beautiful. Even more than you said. I can’t wait for us to announce our engagement to everyone. I’m sure it will be nice to do it in the Harrenhal Ball.”

But Ned wasn’t really listening to his friend. He’s still quite disturbed by his sister’s words. Right now, he needs to talk to her.

After settling Robert to his room, he excused himself, but instead of getting some rest, he went out to look for Lyanna. Only to find Brandon and Benjen, sitting in the drawing room.

“She would not be nice. She would be very angry,” Benjen said.

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. We just relayed Papa’s message of your coming home with your friend. Everything she needed to know, Papa already told her,” Benjen added.

“If I were you, Ned, I’d be afraid, very afraid,” Brandon teased as he stood up.

“She’s in the Godswood, by the way,” he added and then walked away with Benjen in tow.

In the Godswood, he went and saw Lyanna sitting by one of the rocks facing the pond. She finally looked up at him as he approached, but there was fire in her gray eyes that he doesn’t seem to understand.

“How could you do this to me, Ned? I thought we were close!”

“What are you talking about, Lya? I truly don’t understand?”

“Oh, you don’t? How about the fact that you and Papa are setting me up with that oaf who’s calling himself a guest at our home?!”

“Robert?”

“Yeah, him!”

“Look, it wasn’t my idea, okay? I was just talking to Papa because he asked me to. I was just telling him what’s going on with my life. He was the one who decided on this. I was just the messenger!”

“So you couldn’t keep your mouth shut about it? Oh, gods, of all the men you can think of, Robert Baratheon?”

“Lya, Robert is a good man. He’s been my best friend for years, and I can depend on him.”

“A good man? You call a drunk, man-whore a good man? How many bastards has he fathered now, hmm? You call that a good man?”

“Not everything you read is true.”

“Oh, so the pictures aren’t true as well? Come on, Ned, why don’t you just admit that you are blinded by your friendship with him? Sure, he may be a good friend, but that doesn’t make a man a good boyfriend or husband.”

“Just try, please, Lya? Please.”

“No, Ned, this I cannot do. I will be civil, but like I told our father, I will not like him. I will not be his conquest. And don’t you dare leave me with that man-whoring drunk!”

“Look, the guy’s besotted with you. He could change, you’ll see. Whatever he has done, this has nothing to do with now; he’s changed. For gods’ sakes Lya, the guy fell in love with you through my stories!”

“In love?” she scoffs. “I think the only thing he loves is his alcohol and his cock in between someone else’s legs. Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature. He will never keep to one bed. You can stop defending your friend now.”

“There is nothing I can say that could convince you, huh?”

“No. None at all, so you can tell Father that he is not suited for me.”

He nodded.

“I will tell Papa, but you still have to come with him to the Harrenhal Ball as your date.”

“Fine, but nothing more, and you will not leave me alone with that guy!”

“Fine. Now let’s go back to the house.”

Chapter Text

It was already evening when they finally landed in Riverlands courtesy of NorthStark company plane. After a few minutes’ drive, they arrived at Dragonstone Hotel and Resorts. Lyanna found it a bit cliché that they had to stay at this particular hotel, since most of the others who would be attending the event would be staying here. She was sure the Lannisters were staying at a different place.

Whilst in the elevator, she asked her father,

“Papa, why do you have to stay here? I mean there’s Darry Hotel and Casino nearby, or even at Acorn Hall, or at Raventree Hall. That’s a nice place.”

“Because this place is owned by Aerys.”

“Ahhh, one of your good friends, back in the oooolden days,” she teased her father.

Rickard just chuckled,

“It’s a nice place. I like all of the Dragonstone hotels. It’s now being managed by his eldest son, Rhaegar. I don’t think you’ve met him.”

“No. No, I haven’t. But I have heard and seen him on the news.”

She turned to Brandon,

“Didn’t you go to college with him in KLU?”

“Yeah, we did. We were actually roommates, together with Arthur Dayne in Summerhall.”

Suddenly, Robert interrupted the conversation,

“He’s actually my cousin.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, our fathers are cousins.”

“I see.”

And when she no longer followed up anything, the conversation died as they finally reached their floor. They went to their own room and rested, which would be one more night after. 

Bored at her hotel room, she decided to call Cersei to find out if they had already arrived. At one ring, Cersei immediately answered.

“Please take me away from this boredom.”

“Well, hello to you too, Lya!”

“Sorry, but I am soooooo fucking bored in this place. Please tell me you’re already here in the Riverlands.”

“As a matter of fact, we are. We’ve been here for two days now. Did you just arrive?”

“Oh, thank the Old Gods! We arrived last night. Where are you staying? We’re at the Dragonstone.”

“Acorn Hall, get dressed, we’re picking you up in half an hour.”

“Thank you! You’re the best, Cers!”

“Yes, yes, I am. See you in a bit. Please wear something that is not baggy, or we’re not taking you.”

“Fine. I won’t. See you.”

She went ahead and prepared herself; and as a promise to her BFF, she didn’t wear anything baggy, but wore skinny jeans, sneakers, and her crop top that has her favourite band, Fire and Blood, on it. Lyanna never really does makeup, so she just pulled her hair into a messy bun, grabbed her shoulder bag, and went out.

As the elevator’s door was about to close, a large hand stopped it. She inwardly groaned when she saw whose hand it belonged to. Robert got inside as the lift went down to the ground level.

“Hey, Robert,” she said awkwardly.

“Hi. Where are you going?”

“Would it be rude if I told you it’s none of your business?”

“It would be, and it’s my business since I am dating you.”

When she heard the word “dating,” she burst into laughter that confused the Stag.

“I’m so sorry, Robert. Wait, no. I don’t have anything to apologize for, but I don’t know if you’re drunk right now or you’re completely mad. Let me make things clear for you: you and I are not dating, or will ever date. I am only going to this event with you as my ‘date for the night’ as a favour to my father. But it doesn’t mean that we are dating. Are we clear?”

But before he could answer, the elevator doors already opened, and Robert and his fuming face immediately walked out, clenching and unclenching his fist. And before she could step out, Robert hissed, “This isn’t over, Lyanna.” She shrugged and went out straight to the lobby, and there she saw Cersei Lannister with her large sunglasses, looking as regal as ever. Beside her was her ever-loyal twin, Jaime, and his handsomeness.

“This is new, Lyanna Stark, wearing something that shows her skin,” Jaime Lannister boomed as he grabbed her by the arms and whirled her around. When he finally put her down, he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“How are you, Stark?” he asked.

“I’m good, now that you guys are here! Gods the boredom is killing me!”

“That’s why we’re here, we’re your saviours, as always. Now tell me why Robert Baratheon is looking at Jaime like he wants to kill him?” Cersei asked.

“I will tell you in a bit, just get me out of here.”

“Fine, let’s go.”

In the car,

“Okay, now spill, Lya,” Cersei demanded.

“Right. Well, my father decided to intervene with my love life and thought that I should date Robert Baratheon because he seemed like a nice guy according to Ned.”

All of a sudden, the car went into an immediate break.

“WHAT?!” Jaime exclaimed.

“Could you actually drive without killing us with your outbursts?” Cersei said.

“Sorry,” Jaime muttered and went back to driving normally and allowed her and Cersei to talk.

“Anyway, I’m coming to the ball with Robert as my date.”

“No! You cannot come with him as your date.”

“Believe me, I would rather take an Other than take that sexist, drunk oaf! I’m just doing this as a favour to Papa, nothing more.”

“Oh, thank the Seven for that!”

“I also told Papa that I will not be hanging about Robert’s arm like one of these trophies.”

“Good. At least you will get to hang out with us. As always, Jaime is my date.”

“Ugh, if it weren’t for my father, I would be Brandon’s date, or Benjen, or even Ned. Isn’t that the purpose of having brothers?”

“Don’t think about it anymore, let’s just hang out today. I have so much to tell you! Yesterday, we were at….”

With that, the day was indeed spent with the terrible two.  

Chapter Text

Finally, the day of the ball has arrived, and it’s been a hectic day filled with preparations. While she doesn’t intend to impress or try to be pretty for Robert, she wants to look exceptionally well for this is the event of the year. Prominent business names will be in attendance, and she’s certain some of their daughters and sons will be there. Some of them she’s already met during childhood, while others she’s certain she’ll meet today.

With the help of Brandon and Benjen, she managed to evade Robert at all costs. They never abandoned her side, and even if they had to leave, they would take her with them. She was vexed by how her father and sometimes even Ned would try to coax her into actually talking to a man. But as she had promised, she was polite, but she never concealed her annoyance. Despite all these, Robert persisted in pursuing her.

As she browsed through her closet, she spotted the dress that her best friend, Cersei Lannister, had made and shipped for her. Cersei was the daughter of the prominent bank mogul, Twyin Lannister, and the heiress to Casterly Rock and Co. She was also the twin sister of Jaime Lannister, whom she dated briefly and eventually became her best friend, along with Cersei. Despite the distance between the twins, they had managed to maintain their friendship through email, texts, chats, and of course, in-person meetings at least few times a year. She admired the dress, thinking that Cersei had truly outdone herself with her evening gown. It was a mesmerizing midnight blue that gradually faded into a soft white at the hem, adorned with intricate embroidery of blue winter roses, a rare flower that only blooms in the North, where she hails from. The back of the dress was as low as it could possibly be, just an inch above her buttocks. “This dress would definitely accentuate those curves you’ve been hiding in those dreadful shirts you adore wearing,” she chuckled, recalling Cersei’s words. A smile spread across her face, and she couldn’t help but feel excited about how she would look in it.

At last, the hairdresser and makeup artist arrived and, without hesitation, began preparing and dressing her. After enduring an excruciatingly long wait, she finally looked in the mirror and was astounded by her reflection. The dress undoubtedly showcased her curves, and her hair was styled into a low chignon with a crystal snowflake comb to accentuate it. Everything complemented her striking gray eyes, a trait that had always been noticed about her, and her Stark heritage.

Although she had attended several similar events, she now felt a sense of maturity and readiness. She was finally out of the university and poised to embark on a new chapter in her life, perhaps not the world, but certainly Westeros. With a determined glint in her eye, she prepared to showcase her transformation. As she admired herself, a knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Who is it?”

“It’s your papa.”

“Come in, father,” she said, still looking at the mirror, oblivious that her father had already entered her room.

When finally she heard her father softly gasp, she turned to him,

“Oh my Lyanna! You…you look like your mother and more. That dress, and your hair! Just beautiful, my love! You are the epitome of the North.”

She actually blushed at her father’s words, and walked towards him and gave him a peck on his cheek,

“Thank you, father. Although you have to thank Cersei for the dress, down to my shoes. She really outdid herself.”

“She designed this?” he said, pointing to her dress,

“Yes, she did. She really has a talent for it. I’m glad her father is actually financing her completely.”

“I’m glad Tywin is giving in to her.”

“He always does, you just don’t notice it with his haughty exterior.”

Her father waved his hand, “I understand Tywin’s nature. He’s a ruthless and cunning businessman, but his love for his children and his late wife has always been unwavering. However, there was a time when things weren’t always as they seem. After Joanna Lannister’s death, he became increasingly ruthless in his business dealings and almost neglected his youngest son. I remember that at the time, he couldn’t forgive Tyrion for his birth. So, how does Cersei manage to get along with Tyrion?”

“I believe they’re getting along well. While they won’t be close friends, that’s because they both have their own interests and hobbies. Tyrion is a bookworm who enjoys jesting, drinking, and, of course, his charm with women. Jaime is closer to Tyrion than Cersei.”

“Hmm. Good then. I’m sure you’re excited to see them tonight.”

“I am. I am also excited to see the others I have seen in a long time.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy it. By the way, could you please be nicer to Robert? He’s been staying with us, and you barely talk to the boy.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her father,

“Papa, you know how I feel about this. I already agreed to be his date tonight. What more do you want?”

“At least have a normal conversation with him.”

“I…sometimes have a normal conversation with him. As normal as I can be. It’s not my fault if all his sexist comments and lack of control with his alcohol extremely annoy me. So please, Papa, stop this. I actually want to enjoy tonight’s event. And hanging around Robert’s arm and being displayed like a trophy won is not my idea of a good time.”

Rickard Stark sighed heavily,

“Oh, Lya, I don’t know what to do with you anymore. I just want you to be happy. I want you to have what your mother and I have. I want that for you and your brothers.”

She softened on her father and put both of her hands on his arm,

“Papa, my dear, dear Papa. I know you want me to be happy. But I am young. I just graduated from college, and I still don’t know what I truly want. And right now, I just want to live my life. Have a career and be good or even great at it. Dating is not in my head, let alone marriage. That will come. I’m not in a hurry. If that time comes, then I will accept. So please, Papa, you have to understand, even with my brothers, we want this time for ourselves and enjoy its ups and downs.”

Again, another sigh,

“Alright, my wolf, I will let go of this Robert thing. I will support you in whatever you want. Just don’t embarrass the man tonight.”

She chuckled,

“I promise not to embarrass him, unless he embarrasses me first or himself.”

Papa Stark just shook his head and chuckled.

“Alright, ready to go now?”

Her grey eyes brightened,

“Yes.” 

Harrenhal, an ancient castle nestled in the Riverlands, offered a breathtaking view of the Gods Eye Lake and the Isle of Faces. Owned by Walter Whent, a wealthy philanthropist, socialite, and businessman, this year, he hosted a charity ball for the prominent business moguls of Westeros.

Lyanna ascended the grand staircase within the castle, captivated by its grandeur and eager to delve into its rich history. Her awe was so profound that she barely noticed Robert’s arm encircling hers as they entered the ballroom. Finally, she broke free from her reverie and focused on the unfolding events of the night.

They were greeted by the Whent family at the entrance of the ballroom.

“Rickard Stark!” he boomed.

“Walter. It’s been a long time,” her father replied.

“Indeed. Are these your children now?”

“Ah, yes, let me reintroduce you. They were so young when you first met them.”

“Please,”

“This is my eldest, Brandon, and here’s Ned, and my youngest, Benjen. Now, this beautiful winter rose here is my only daughter, Lyanna, and this lad is Robert Baratheon. I’m sure you already know him. This is Walter Whent, an old friend of mine.”

“Yes, yes, of course. It’s a pleasure to have you all here.”

Each of his brothers shook the hand of the old man, whilst the old Whent took Lyanna’s hand and kissed the back of it like she was some lady of the olden days.

“Lady Lyanna. You look like your mother. I remember you were only a year old when I first met you.” He said with fondness in his voice.

Lyanna could not help but smile at the old man and replied that it was a pleasure to meet him.

“This is my wife, Shella. Now, the children are doing their best to entertain the other guests. I hope you enjoy your evening. We have a lovely band and some dancing. By the way, Rickard, where are you staying? You should have stayed here with us. You told me Lyanna is very fond of history. We would be glad to host her and allow her to explore this old castle.”

“We decided to stay at the Dragonstone. You know Aerys, it’s so hard to decline his offer. He would be mad if I refused.”

“Ahhh, of course. I understand. How long will you be staying?”

“I think three more days.”

“Capital! Now…” Whent turned to Lyanna,

“If your father would allow it, you are welcome to visit us anytime. Shella and I would be happy to tour you around the place should you want it.”

“Oh, that would be lovely! I would love to! That is very kind of you, Mr. Went. Papa, can I visit them?”

“Sure. As long as you make sure that they have finally cleaned up this place after this party.”

After all the pleasantries have ended, it was time to socialize. She is still being escorted by Robert whilst she’s looking around the place to see if she knows anyone for her to make her escape from the stag’s grasp.

Robert led her to the bar and introduced her to Richard Lonmouth. It was obvious to her that the two would rather have a drinking game than to actually talk to her with some sense. Finally, she saw Jaime Lannister approach her. And so she slowly removed her hand from Robert’s arm, and gave Jaime a hug and a kiss on both cheeks.

“Lya, sorry we did not arrive earlier. You know Cersei, she likes making a grand entrance.”

Jaime took her hand and twirled her slowly.

“My, my! Don’t you look fantastic tonight.”

“Thank you! Now, where’s…”

Before she could continue, Robert cleared his throat and it seems on his face that he demands an introduction. She rolled her eyes and reluctantly gave in.

“Jaime, this is Robert Baratheon. Robert, this is Jaime Lannister.”

“Nice to meet you,” quipped Jaime.

“Right, I’m Robert Baratheon, her date.”

She wants to punch Robert in the face as he managed to smirk at Jaime and emphasize the word  date, when he was just like an escort instead of a date.

“Right, erm, did your father attend?”

“Apparently no, he did not. I think Aerys and Dad had a disagreement recently. You know those old men.”

“I see. Oh well, take me to Cersei.”

 Jaime offered his arm to her, and she took it and excused herself from Robert and his friend.

Chapter Text

The entire ballroom was bathed in a mesmerizing glow of lights and the intoxicating aroma of wine. Rhaegar, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity, navigated the room, carefully avoiding any potential business associates. His primary concern was to steer clear of Elia Martell, the oil heiress, whom he was reluctantly obliged to accompany as a date to this event. His father’s request to appease the Martells and their impending alliance had cast a shadow over his personal preferences. Despite acknowledging Elia’s beauty and grace, Rhaegar couldn’t help but feel that these qualities were not unique to her, given the privileged upbringing of women in their world. As Elia engaged in conversation with her friends, Rhaegar seized the opportunity to observe her from a distance, feeling a sense of liberation and freedom.

As he walked to one of the corners, he saw four young men, and it seemed like they were being scolded. He took his place somewhere that couldn’t be seen and yet could still see and hear the situation.

“And who do you think you are? He is one of my father’s VP and has done more work than you have,” the lady spoke, with fire in her voice that made him spark something inside him that he did not understand.

“This dwarf is not supposed to be here. Look at him, he does not belong here,” one of the guys said.

“He doesn’t belong here, you said? You’re all interns, so you don’t belong here either. And what position do you hold in your company? Personal assistant? How glamorous! This dwarf, as you call him, has been managing the Greywatch offices of NorthStark Property Development Corp for years. He’s Rickard Stark’s trusted vice president, and Rickard Stark, who just happens to be my father. Now, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll apologize now!” she said as he finally managed to look at the woman who spoke.

“Brandon’s sister,” he thought. He never met Brandon’s sister at all. Sure, they went to college together, but the only one he met from his family would be his parents. She is a vision, he thought. She was beautiful and obviously young. But not only that, she defended a man who’s not related to her against three other men. Fascinating, he thought. I have to meet her. Lost in his thought, he didn’t realize that she’s already gone, as well as the others who were with her. And so, he began his search.

Once he made himself visible in the ballroom, his father saw him immediately and called for him.

“Ahh, here’s my son. Rickard, as you know, this is my eldest, Rhaegar,” his father said, introducing him to a man with graying hair, who looks like an older version of Brandon.

“Rhaegar, this is Rickard Stark. You have met when you were still young and during the time you were still in the university,” his father added.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Stark,” he said, extending his hand to the aging wolf.

“Thank you, it’s good to see you again, and it’s Uncle Rickard to you. Brandon and his siblings are here…” Rickard Stark said, as he looked around to look for one of his children.

“For some reason, I can’t seem to find them. However, I’m sure you will find him. He’s practically hovering around his sister for reasons I do not understand.” The old wolf said.

“Rhaegar, we’ll be having lunch with Rickard tomorrow. I hope you did not make any plans yet.” Aerys Targaryen told him.

“No, father, I have not made any plans. Surely, I will be there.”

“Very well, now go and enjoy yourself. Why don’t you see to Elia?”

“Of course, father, Uncle Rickard,” he nodded. And then stalked the ballroom once again. Of course, he wasn’t going to see Elia. His goal was to reunite with Brandon Stark, best friend, former roommate and most especially, brother to the lady who apparently caught his eye.

It was a few minutes of lurking around the ballroom when Arthur Dayne found him.

“Rhaegar, what are you on about? I noticed you just keep on walking around like you were looking for someone.”

“Well, I am looking for someone. Have you seen Brandon yet?”

“Yeah, I was just chatting with him. You want to have a bit of a reunion?”

“Something like that.” He said grinning,

“Okay, this way. I think he’s still in the bar with his siblings.”

It was there in the bar area where he saw the Stark woman he had been looking for. As they came closer to the group, he saw that beside her was none other than his womanizing cousin Robert Baratheon. Why is he standing so close to her? Are they dating? He asked himself. Thoughts in his head suddenly disappeared when he heard Brandon calling his name.

“Oh my gods! Do my eyes deceive me? Is it really you, Rhaegar?” Brandon said.

“No one else but me, brother,” he replied, stepping closer together and giving his old roommate a hug and a pat on the back.

“Wow, man! It’s been years! Where have you been hiding? The only time I know about you is seeing your face in the business section of the newspaper and, of course, the news.”

“Well, you know me. Always busy working, plus I like keeping it private despite those news.”

“Come on Brandon, it’s not like you don’t know how anti-social Rhae is,” Arthur said chuckling.

“Right, I forgot about that. Oh wait, let me introduce you, these are my brothers…” Brandon turning to Ned and Benjen, “Eddard and Benjen, and this (he said with a bit of a pause) is my baby sister Lyanna; this is Rhaegar Targaryen, former roommate, and resident musician of room 21D of Summerhall in King’s Landing University. And of course you have already met Arthur, again former roommate, fencing master of KLU.”

He shook hands with the younger Stark brothers, but when he delicately took Lyanna’s hand, and without hesitation he raised her hand to his lips and gave it a soft kiss like a knight meeting a lady. He never took his eyes off of her whilst he did this, and saw the blush that appeared on her Northern cheeks.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” He said.

“Oh I forgot, this Robert Baratheon, but I think you already know him.”

“Erm, yes, we’re cousins.” He nodded to Robert, but for some reason, his cousin was glaring at him.

“Yes, we’re cousins, and Lyanna’s fiancé, so I would appreciate it if you keep your hands to yourself, cousin,” Robert said.

He noticed how all the Stark brothers and Arthur stopped smiling. But most of all, Lyanna’s face turned pale. Then she quickly drank all that was in her glass and put it down on the bar with a bit of force. Her face suddenly hardened and darkened, facing Robert with a defensive stand.  

“Is that what you tell everyone?”

Suddenly, Ned pulled Robert aside and with a low voice,

“Lyanna, not here.”

He saw how Lyanna took a deep breath and gave a sigh,

“Fine. I will give you this, Ned, but get your friend away from me, or I will not be in control of my temper. He and I will have a talk, and if we do, I want all of you to be there, and that includes your father. I will never be left alone with that…that creature.” She said in a low but very dangerous tone.

“I’m going to find the terrible twins, excuse me.”

Then Brandon said,

“Rhae, can you please escort my sister? I think she needs your calming effect. You kind of have that with everyone.”

He was stunned, he honestly didn’t want to be at the end of Lyanna Stark’s wrath. It seems to him that she and Brandon are more alike than he thought.

“If Ms. Stark will not object.”

“I will not object as long as you stop with this, Ms. Stark shit, it’s Lyanna.” She immediately said.

“Of course,  my apologies, Lyanna.”

“Apology accepted. Now let’s find my two best friends.” 

They went out to the main ballroom in silence, looking for the Lannister twins with the beautiful and fiery Lyanna Stark in his arm. Then she suddenly stopped walking and stood to face him,

“I’m so sorry about what happened back there. Robert can’t seem to take a hint. He’s not my fiancé, and I told him that I am only coming here as my date as a favour to my father. I’m actually glad Ned stopped me.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I understand it perfectly. My father actually asked me to take Elia Martell as my date for this ball. I guess we’re both in the same situation.” He said smiling at her, and with that it was returned by a beautiful smile from her.

“I guess so. Anyway, you really don’t need to escort me. I know how to find those two. I know you’re only doing this because Brandon asked you to.” She said softly.

“No. I’m happy to escort you. I’m friends with Jaime, actually. I mean, he’s younger than I am, but he’s one of my father’s managers for Dragon Air. So I actually see him quite a lot.”

“Oh, there they are.”

They walked immediately to the Lannister twins, who seemed to be just observing the whole party.

“I came to bring you Ms. Lyanna Stark. Jaime, I trust her under your care and not allow my oaf of a cousin to come near her,” he smoothly said. How did I become this smooth to ladies? He thought.

That line bought a knowing smirk from Lyanna.

“Thank you, Mr. Targaryen. My! That’s quite a mouthful!”

They all laughed. He did the right thing by excusing himself when he saw that Elia was already alone.

“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. I think my father would burn me alive if I kept Elia waiting alone.” 

Back to where he started, he was now standing beside Elia Martell, the oil heiress of Sunspear Petrol Group, a subsidiary of Martel Oil & Energy Corp. If he were being honest to himself, this party was incredibly boring. Not because of Elia, but the fact that they both knew that they didn’t want to be each other’s date. Until Elia said something that perked his ears.

“I saw you escorting the Stark girl a few minutes ago.”

He didn’t know what to make of her comment, and so he tried to be honest with his answer, not to reveal that he was actually attracted to the she-wolf.

“Erm…yeah, Brandon asked me to her after the scenario with my cousin in the bar.”

“Cousin? You mean Robert? Oh…right, I saw him come with her.”

“Yeah, apparently, Robert has been telling everyone that she’s his fiancé.”

“Oh wow. This is not good. I mean, if she has the same temper as Brandon…”

“Believe me, she has. I was a witness to that, but Eddard, their other brother, prevented it,” he interrupted.

“You like her, don’t you?” she asked.

He took it as a surprise and saw that she was actually smirking at him.

“How did you…”

“Oh, please, Rhaegar. We’ve known each other since childhood. I can tell you’re dazed, and that’s the perfect word to describe your reaction. And the fact that you haven’t stopped looking at her. Seriously, she’s standing beside Cersei Lannister, who is undoubtedly a stunning woman and stands out in any crowd. Everyone notices her, yet your eyes never leave the northern girl.”

He sighed as he felt defeated with her words,

“You’re right. I feel attracted to her. But I just met her. And she’s Brandon’s sister. Brandon would fucking kill me if I asked her baby sister for a date.”

“Why would he kill you? He has no issue dating Ashara in secret. And that’s Arthur’s sister.”

“Which is why he’s keeping it a secret. Wait, he’s dating Ashara, still?”

“Oh gods! I did not just say that out loud. Oh no, no, no, no. Please DO NOT ever mention that to Arthur.”

“I won’t. I promise. But like I said, the fear of knowing that you’re dating the younger sister of your college buddy or best friend, especially Brandon’s, is pretty terrifying.”

“Then maybe you could go through her father. I heard that she was forced to come with Robert as her date.”

“That is actually true, she told me herself.”

“Much like you and I. Gods Rhaegar, is your best friend really that fucking dense? What do I need to do? Walk in on his flat naked so he would actually go out with me?”

“Look, we both know how Arthur is. He’s too craven to make a move. He’s brave in everything else but not with you. He doesn’t think he’s good enough for you.”

“Oh please, we’ve had this conversation before. Our families have been long friends, even longer than yours. My brothers know him well, trust him even, why would he think that? Because he’s not handling matters in his parents’ company and decided to work under your father’s?”

“I believe that’s how he thinks. I tried convincing him to man up. But he is undecided. I think it would be best that you make the first move. Both of you have been dancing around each other for years and to be honest, it makes me dizzy. And you better move fast. Who knows what your brothers might decide. I can at least try to dissuade my father with the help of my mother.”

“Fine. I will do it. It seems like the musicians are resting. Why don’t you show us your music prowess? That always impresses a lady.”

It was like a lightbulb in his head. He quickly gave Elia a kiss on the cheek,

“You always have the best ideas! Thank you.”

“I know. And you’re welcome. Now go. I will see to Ashara.”

He immediately went to seek out Walter Whent to make an exception to the program. Once everything was settled, the host called everyone’s attention as he sat on the grand piano searching to see if Lyanna would look his way.

Chapter Text

“Did Rhaegar Targaryen just escort you to us?” Cersei asked.

“Yes, he did.”

“And did you just flirt with him?” she added.

“What? I did not flirt!”

Suddenly Jaime interrupted, “Thank you, Mr. Targaryen. My! That’s quite a mouthful. It was not a sign of Lyanna Stark flirting.” Jaime teased.

“Oh shut up, Jaime. He was only asked by Brandon to escort me. Because if I had stayed there, I would have punched Robert Baratheon in the face. Gods! That idiot annoys me!”

“What did he do now?” Cersei asked.

“He has been telling everyone that we’re engaged. Who does that? We’re not even dating! And of course, Ned just had to intervene. I am really going to have a talk with him, and I will have my father there.”

“Good. Now on to other news, it seems that Rhaegar can’t keep his eyes off of you. He has been staring ever since he joined Elia.”

“What? No! Why would he?” She asked incredulously,

“Why would he not? Dahlin’ you are a vision!” Cersei said proudly.

“Well, it wouldn’t happen without you, so thank you.” Lyanna retorted

“Of course. I’m just sick and tired of your clothes, Lya.” Cersei threw back

Jaime almost choked on his drink laughing at his sister’s comment. 

After a few minutes of chatting, it suddenly became quiet. And there at the center of the ballroom was Mr. Whent.

“If I could have your attention, please…thank you. This evening has been wonderful, and thank you for obliging this old man with your attendance. This night will just get better. Allow me to present, Rhaegar Targaryen!”

With a sound of his name, she couldn’t help but turn her attention to the man who was now about to sit at the piano. As he began pressing the keys, she was completely captivated by the music. It seemed as if he understood the very depths of her soul. His indigo eyes, which never left her gaze as he played this bittersweet symphony, struck her with an unparalleled intensity.

The music continued as she searched his eyes, searching for any hint of emotion. There was longing, sadness, and all the other melancholic feelings that seemed to emanate from him. It was as if he were trapped somewhere, a soul yearning to be freed. Tears welled up in her eyes as the keys softened, gradually fading into silence.

“Are you crying, Stark?”

Jaime’s voice suddenly broke her reverie.

“What?” she replied.

“I was asking if you’re crying.” He repeated

She immediately wiped whatever tears fell from her and denied everything profusely.

“Oh my gods! You have been crying,” Jaime said, laughing.

“Shut up, Lannister, or this will be the last day you’ll ever laugh.” Lyanna said with voice so low,

“Jaime, knock it off. This is a great moment. Our wolf is finally expressing emotions. And to a dragon, I must say,” Cersei interjected.

She rolled her eyes at the twins.

“Now, Lya, why don’t we go to the ladies’ room, hmm?”

Lyanna followed Cersei, and there in the ladies’ room, she was finally alone with her BFF.

“Tell me what that was about?” Cersei asked.

“What was what about?”

“Oh, for the love of the Seven! Don’t play dumb with me, Lya. I’m your best friend since we were in diapers. Now spill.”

“There is nothing to spill, Cers. I was just…for some reason, I was in some other world. Like there’s no one else but just me, him, and his music. It was hypnotizing.”

“Hmmm, maybe you’re really attracted to him. Well, I don’t object. Rhaegar is one of the most eligible bachelors in the whole of Westeros. Which is why a lot of women are throwing themselves at him. Lots of competition, babe. We need you prepared.”

“What are you talking about being prepared? Seriously, sure he’s handsome and yeah, I’m kind of attracted to him. But I don’t know him.”

“Then get to know him. He obviously can’t take his eyes away from you. You have that advantage. And didn’t you say that your family is having lunch with them tomorrow?”

“Yeah. But I was planning to come back here. The Whents invited me to explore this place.”

“Simple solution. Reschedule. Then during lunch, talk about it with him, ask questions. Then open the idea that the Whents invited you. You’ll never know he might want to tag along. If he doesn’t, then there’s always next time.”

Lyanna groaned and shook her head.

“Oh, and make sure you’re wearing something that is not a normal part of your wardrobe.” Cersei added.

“Fine. I will take your suggestions. Now let’s go back out there.” 

Lyanna found herself standing at the bar drinking alone, watching everyone interact with each other. When a shadow cast over her right side, she looked and there goes Robert Baratheon, who could barely stand.

“You know, Lya, this gathering is rather small, don’t you think?” he asked, almost slurring every bit of word.

“I think it’s quite alright. Too much crowd makes me nauseous.”

But Robert just shrugged at this as if not hearing her at all.

“On our wedding day, this crowd would be nothing. And you will be the most beautiful bride in all of Westeros.”

Lyanna couldn’t help but laugh.

“I think you’ve had enough drink to imagine that I will actually marry you, Baratheon.”

She knew he would be offended, but she didn’t really care. She was waiting for him to finally be offended and just leave her alone. It’s not like she wants to cause a scene, but she really wants him to back off. Instead of getting angry, Robert sauntered toward her with a leering expression, closing the distance between them until she felt deeply uncomfortable—violated by the intrusive gesture.

“And what makes you think you won’t marry me? Hmm? You’re mine, Lyanna, mine.”

By this time, Robert was already gripping her arm, and it was starting to hurt. She was about to say something when she saw a hand on Robert’s shoulder and pulled him away quietly. It was Arthur Dayne with Brandon.

“Are you okay?” a voice said.

She looked up and saw Rhaegar together with Jamie.

“Yeah, erm, I’m fine,” she said just a tad bit softly.

“Are you sure, Lya?” Jamie asked.

“I admit, I’m a bit shaken. But I will be fine.” She said in a hushed tone

“Well, only if you’re sure. I can see Cersei calling me. I hope that’s okay with you.”

“Yes, go to her. I’m fine.”

With that, Jamie walked away and tended to his sister. An awkward silence fell between her and Rhaegar, who stayed.

“Did he say anything untoward?” Rhaegar asked,

“Not more than the usual, his delusion that I will marry him. He claimed that I am his. No one owns me,” she said a bit forcefully.

“I know he’s your cousin, but I really don’t care. He’s vulgar and a drunk,” she added.

Rhaegar sighed.

“I know. My father got tired of telling my aunt and uncle about his attitude. But it is what it is. It’s just sad that the name of StagMotors will be his when the time comes.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Brandon told me you just graduated. What’s your next step then?” Rhaegar asked, trying to distract her from the situation.

“Work for my papa, of course, don’t we all?”

He chuckled.

“I suppose we all do.”

After the slight debacle with the Stag heir, the whole night went uneventfully. She was happy to see her best friend and her brothers all together. But what she can’t seem to stop thinking is the man with silver blonde hair and indigo eyes. There was something about him that seemed so enchanting. The way his voice sounds and how he moves. Lyanna Stark has never seen anyone quite like Rhaegar Targaryen. She was curious yet anxious. She knows that at that moment, she’s in trouble.

Chapter Text

The next morning came at last. After breakfast, Lyanna hurried to wake Brandon and Benjen, and together they made their way to their father’s room. There, Rickard Stark sat absorbed in his coffee and morning paper. As they entered, he set the newspaper aside and greeted them with a warm smile.

“Good morning, you three. To what do I owe this visit?” he asked.

Lyanna went over to her father and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Good morning, papa.”

Rickard looked at the three of them suspiciously, sipped his coffee, and took a sigh.

“All right, you three. I know that look. Something tells me that there is something you need to tell me.”

Brandon nudged her to say something, and so she did.

“Well… it’s about last night…” Lyanna said.

“And wasn’t it a successful evening?” Rickard asked.

“Yes, it was. I had fun. However, it’s about Robert Baratheon.”

“What about Robert? It seems you have been successful in avoiding him all night. As I recall, you promised to be civil.”

“I know, I know. Believe me, I tried my very best to be civil. But then I found out that he has been telling everyone that he’s my fiancé.”

Rickard looked contemplative but somehow not surprised. Lyanna, Brandon, and Benjen noticed this. And so Brandon speaks,

“You knew this would happen? You’ve been expecting it!” Brandon exclaimed,

“Well, it’s only a matter of time,” Rickard said calmly.

“What do you mean ‘it’s only a matter of time?’ You said he’s just my date for the night! Do you lie now, father?” Lyanna furiously said, as she was so surprised about this. Her own father would do such a thing.

Papa Stark sighed heavily,

“Lyanna, you’re 21…” he started but was cut off by Brandon,

“Exactly! Lya is only 21. Engagement is the least that we should be thinking about. She just graduated from college. She has dreams. She wants to do a lot of things. And if you impose this, you will only distance yourself, not just from her but from me and Benjen too!”

Her tears are threatening to fall from her eyes,

“How could you do this to me? I’m your only daughter! So my happiness doesn’t matter to you anymore? You’re just waiting for me to graduate, and be what? Be a wife?! To that idiot! That drunk-whoring idiot!”

“That’s enough, Lyanna Stark! You will not disrespect me!” bellowed Rickard standing up.

“Disrespect you? You don’t even respect me! Is that my purpose to you? Provide me with a great education that will be useless forever because you choose to SELL your only daughter! You lied to me!”

Rickard was startled; Brandon and Benjen stood behind Lyanna with their hands on her shoulders. Finally, Rickard sat and sighed,

“I don’t…I did not wish to do this, I have hope. But we need StagMotors, and the Baratheons wanted an alliance with us. Robert wants you,” he said sounding defeated.

Lyanna, still breathing heavily but somehow calmed,

“Then what did you wish? That they will just make an alliance without gaining something in return? We’re not having problems with the business. We are, in fact, doing well. Why do we need those bloody stags? I don’t understand it. I want to work for you, for the company that has been with us for generations! That has been successful for generations! I don’t want him as my husband or even boyfriend. I will not marry him. I would rather choose death than to marry that stupid, selfish cow!” she said gritting her teeth.

“You’re just saying that because you have yet to know him…” Rickard rebutted.

“No, I don’t need to get to know him—I already do. I know men like him. He’s the kind who parades women around like trophies. I refuse to be one of them. I know who I am: too independent, too smart, and too honest for someone like him. Ned says he can change, but people don’t change, Papa. They only show you what you want to see, keeping you hooked until it’s too late—until you’re trapped and can’t escape their hold. What we see in Robert now is who he truly is, and that will never change.”

A heavy silence settled over the room, no one daring to speak after Lyanna’s outburst. Then, without warning, the door swung open, and Ned entered with Robert close behind. While Ned carried himself with quiet confidence, Robert exuded his usual brash, overbearing energy as they approached Rickard.“Ah, so you finally broke the news to her then,” Robert said smugly.

Lyanna saw red. Without a second thought, she stormed toward Robert and struck him square across the face with all her strength. The room fell into stunned silence—no one was more shocked than Robert himself.

“Ow! You fucking bitch!” Robert spat, then slapped her hard across the face.

Brandon lunged for the young stag. “You will not touch my sister!” he roared, driving a fist into Robert’s jaw. Robert crumpled to the floor; Brandon landed a second blow before Ned wrestled him back.

Lyanna stood frozen, one hand pressed to her stinging cheek, watching her brother strike while Ned pulled him away. Then, gathering herself, she let out a single, cutting command. “Enough!”

She faced her father. “Is this the man you want me to marry? A womanizer, a drunk, a brute?” Her stare swept to Robert. “No—no matter what Father or Ned says, I will never be yours. I will never marry you. I loathe you. You disgust me. And if you force my hand, I will make your life a living hell. No amount of slaps will ever change my mind.”

“And you…” she turned sharply to Ned, her voice trembling with fury.

“From this day forward, you are no longer my brother. How dare you choose this foolish brute over me—your own blood?”

Ned lowered his gaze, shame written all over him. “I’m sorry, Lya,” he murmured.

Lyanna then faced her father, her eyes cold and resolute. “You can disown me if you wish. I don’t need any of this—I have my own money. I’ll return to Winterfell, pack my things, and you can forget you ever had a daughter.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode out of the room, Benjen silently following behind.

Once the door closed, Rickard pressed a weary hand to his forehead. “How could I let this happen?” he muttered.

“Simple,” Brandon snapped, pointing accusingly at Robert. “You never cared enough for her. If you did, you’d have never allowed her to go near him in the first place.”

“And he hit your daughter and you just stood there! How could you do that to her? Is business that important to you than OUR happiness? You better not pursue this father. You will lose all your children and will be forced to live forever to keep your precious business standing. You know how intelligent Lya is, and she will make the company even better. You don’t need to marry her off. You do not have that right. She should marry where her heart chooses. Fix this father! Before it’s too late.” Brandon continued.

“I know. I’m sorry. I should not have started this. She will hate me. She already does. What do I do?” Rickard said with a shaky voice.

“Simple, papa, tell this cow to get the fuck out of here and never show his face again,” Brandon said.

Rickard’s expression hardened as he turned to Robert, who was still clutching his bloodied nose and wincing from Brandon’s blows.

“I’m sorry, Robert,” Rickard said firmly. “But I can’t continue with this. My daughter means more to me than any arrangement. It’s best you leave.”

“WHAT?! NO! I refuse! You—you can’t do that to me!” Robert shouted, voice cracking with fury.

“Oi! Shut your mouth!” Brandon barked, stepping forward. “And don’t you dare speak to my father that way! You’re lucky I haven’t called the cops on your sorry arse for hitting my sister!”

Rickard’s tone grew colder, sharper. “There was never a contract—only an understanding between us. I will not force my daughter into a life she despises. I thought I could convince her, but she’s right. She’s too smart, too strong, too independent for a man like you. I’d rather protect her happiness than sell it.”

“THEN SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR PRECIOUS MERGER!” Robert bellowed, rage twisting his face. “THIS ISN’T OVER!” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Brandon let out a short, bitter laugh. “Go on, Ned—follow your best mate. He’ll need someone to lick his wounds. You’ve always been good at keeping him close.”

But Ned didn’t move. He sat still, fists clenched, eyes burning with disbelief. “What he did to Lya…” he said, voice trembling, “I can’t believe he’d actually do that.”

Brandon’s anger softened. He placed a hand on Ned’s shoulder. “I know. I’m just glad you didn’t stand by him this time.”

Without another word, Rickard rose to his feet and walked out of the room—his silence heavier than any words he could have spoken. 

Benjen sat on Lyanna’s bed while she moved back and forth across the room, hastily packing her things, tears still streaming down her face from what had happened. Then came a knock at the door.

“Go away!” Lyanna cried.

“It’s your father. Please, Lya, open the door. Let’s talk.”

“No!” she shouted, then turned to Benjen.

“I think I should let him in.”

“Don’t you dare, Benjen Stark!”

Benjen sat beside her and gently placed an arm around her shoulders.

“Look, Lya, I love you. You’re my only sister. But what you’re doing—it’s impulsive. You are impulsive, like Brandon. Just hear Papa out, at least one last time. If he still insists on the engagement, then Brandon and I will help you get away from him. Please, Lya.”

Lyanna let out a heavy sigh, tears still glistening in her eyes.

“Fine. I’ll talk to him. But if he pushes me, I’ll leave. Forever,” she said, her voice tired and defeated.

Benjen stood and walked to the door, opening it. Rickard stepped in slowly, and Benjen slipped out, leaving father and daughter alone.

Silence hung between them. Rickard pulled a chair and sat across from her. He could see that Lyanna was trying to stop herself from crying. He sighed.

“Lyanna…” he said softly.

She didn’t respond.

“Lyanna, my sweet—please look at me. Please look at your poor Papa,” he pleaded, moving his chair closer. Gently, he placed his hand beneath her chin and lifted her face to meet his eyes. In her gaze, he saw the same grey eyes he’d fallen in love with the day she was born—those same eyes that once looked at him with pure wonder. She was still young, still full of promise, though now a woman in her own right.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I suppose I got carried away. Robert and Ned presented what seemed like a great opportunity, and I jumped at it without ever asking you. I thought he’d be a good man for you. I thought maybe, if you got to know him, something might grow from there. But I was wrong.”

Silence again. Rickard exhaled deeply and began to rise from his chair—until Lyanna finally spoke.

“You could’ve asked me what I wanted, Papa,” she said softly. “I want to be part of the family business. Men like Robert think so little of women. Look at you and Mama—you were partners. I want that. I want someone who values my voice as much as his own. But that’s for the future, not now. Please, I don’t want to leave you, but you’re forcing me to.”

Rickard nodded, his voice breaking. “I know. And I know that if I keep pushing, I’ll only drive you away. I told Robert that my daughter’s happiness means more to me than any merger.”

Lyanna looked at her papa, gray eyes shining with tears. She threw her arms around Rickard so tightly as if she was holding on to her life.

“I forgive you, Papa. Please don’t do anything like this again, or to any of my brothers. We love you, but we are all adults now. Allow us to make the decisions in our personal lives. Allow us to make mistakes. Mama would have done that.” She said softly.

They hugged each other for what seemed like forever. Rickard pulled away and just looked at her daughter intently.

“You really look so much like your mother. Don’t ever change my love.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“I will let you rest now,” he said as he stood up and walked towards the door.

“Papa…”

“Hmm?”

“What happens to Robert now?”

“He said to forget about the merger. I told him I can’t let go of you.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Rickard just smiled and walked out the door.

Chapter Text

Rhaegar just got out of the shower after returning from his morning run. Despite the lateness of the night, by the time he arrived at his hotel room, he still woke up early as his body clock always would; as his habit, he runs in the morning and showers. But today, his father specifically made it a point that he attend this lunch at noon. He would have made or thought of an excuse until he found out last night that they are going to have lunch with the Stark patriarchy; he only prayed to the gods that Lyanna Stark would be there as well. He doesn’t mind if all her brothers are there; it would be lovely to see her again. 

He went to call for a room service for coffee and pulled out his laptop to check on his work. He wasn’t supposed to work, but he had nothing else to do until lunchtime. After a few minutes of checking on his emails, his phone suddenly rang, and without looking at who’s calling, he answered: 

“Rhaegar here.”

“Brother! You coming to lunch later?”

“Brandon?” 

“Yeah, it’s Brandon, who else are you, idiot!” Brandon answered laughing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I was preoccupied.” 

“Please don’t tell me you’re checking work-related emails right now.” 

Rhaegar can feel that Brandon is rolling his eyes at him, and smiled answering:

“Guilty. But I have nothing else to do this morning, it’s still rather early before lunch, you know.” 

“I know that’s why I called you. Are you staying at Dragonstone? I mean, I know you own this place, but you might have decided not to stay in it.” 

“You’re right, and no, I am not staying in Dragonstone. I am actually staying at Acorn Hall so is my mum and dad, I like how quiet it is here, plus it’s not too far from Harrenhall, so it’s rather convenient. I’m just glad my parents decided to go along with this scheme. I think they know Dragonstone will be crowded and all.” 

“You wanna hang out for a bit. We haven’t seen each other in quite some time. Also, I have shit to tell you, I honestly want to gossip like an old hag. Please let me hang out with you.” 

Laughing, he replied, “Sure, I am getting bored anyway. Where do you want to meet?”

“I knew it! Anyway, let’s meet at the High Heart Diner. They have good coffee and pancakes. I want to have a bit of breakfast, since you said it’s still early. I will meet you there in like 30?” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“See you then. Bye.” 

Rhaegar ended the call with a small smile, shaking his head. Same old Brandon, he thought. He truly missed him. The three of them—Brandon, Arthur, and himself—had always balanced each other out: Brandon’s brash and often hot-headed nature, Arthur’s calm rationality and pragmatism, and Rhaegar’s own quiet, steady demeanor. They had been quite the trio back in university, their bond unshaken even after graduation.

Each had gone their separate ways to work within their respective family businesses—except for Arthur, of course. He had chosen to work for the Targaryens instead. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to join his own family’s enterprise; rather, he wanted to gain experience beyond his family’s sphere before eventually taking over or training under his father.  

It was already around 8 a.m. when he finally arrived at the High Heart Diner. When he got there, he immediately saw Brandon already sipping a cup of coffee. As he approached, Brandon stood up and gave him a man-hug like they usually do. 

“Hey man, it’s really good to see you. I mean calls are great and emails from time to time, but seeing you and hanging out with you makes me nostalgic!” Brandon said as he sat back down. 

“Let me just order something,” Rhaegar said, smirking. “I haven’t had breakfast yet, and I didn’t even get to finish my coffee this morning—thanks to you barging in and ruining my workflow.”

Brandon rolled his eyes. “Oh please, you needed the interruption. You were probably staring at your screen, dying of boredom. You should be thanking me for bringing a little excitement into your dull life.”

“You’re not wrong,” Rhaegar replied dryly.

A few minutes later, after placing their orders and trading light banter, Rhaegar leaned back in his chair, giving Brandon a knowing look.

“So,” he said, “you said you wanted to gossip like an old hag. What’s this about?”

Brandon took a deep breath. “You know you and Arthur are the only people I trust outside my family. So, whatever I tell you—it stays here.”

Rhaegar nodded. “You know I don’t talk to people I’m not close with. And I sure as hell don’t spread stories that aren’t mine. I can’t promise I’ll have the solution, but I do know you’ll go insane if you don’t let it out. So, talk.”

Brandon sighed. “I would’ve gone to Arthur first, but he’s still sulking over Elia. I’ll tell him eventually, once he’s done drowning in self-pity.”

“You don’t think his sulking has anything to do with me, right? You know I’d never actually go out with Elia.”

“I know. And so does he. He’s just being a stubborn arse,” Brandon muttered, waving the thought away. “Anyway, something happened this morning. It involves my whole family—specifically my sister… and your delightful cousin.”

“Robert?”

“Yeah.”

Rhaegar frowned. “What happened? Last night was already a circus. Honestly, I didn’t like how he kept forcing his attention on your sister. Dany’s still a baby, but I can already tell I’d kill any man who acted that way toward her.”

Brandon gave a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah, last night was bad—but this morning? It was chaos. After everything that happened, Lya, Benjen, and I went straight to Papa. We told him how Robert was going around announcing to everyone that Lya was his fiancée. The worst part? Papa wasn’t even surprised. That’s when everything blew up. You saw a glimpse of Lya’s temper last night—but this morning, she erupted.”

Rhaegar smirked faintly. “She definitely got your fire. I’d rather face a board of shareholders than be on her bad side.”

“Right?” Brandon chuckled under his breath. “Anyway, Lya completely tore into our father. And of course, I matched her energy.”

“Obviously,” Rhaegar said, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course,” Brandon echoed with a shrug. “You know me. I had to take her side. She just graduated from uni—she has her own dreams, her own plans. And then we find out Papa’s been pushing this engagement because of some merger he’s planning with StagMotors. That crushed Lya. And me, honestly. How could he do that to his only daughter?”

Rhaegar stayed quiet, his expression softening as Brandon’s tone grew heavier.

“So, in the end,” Brandon said finally, “I told him that if he forces this arrangement, he’s not just losing Lya—he’s losing all of us. Me, Benjen, everyone.”

He leaned back in his chair, shoulders slumping as the weight of it all sank in. Rhaegar didn’t speak. He just nodded, the silence between them saying more than words ever could.

“Oh wow.” Rhaegar finally said

Brandon let out a dry laugh. “But that’s not all. Lya was still tearing into our father about the arrangement and the merger when Ned walked in—with Robert.”

Rhaegar’s brows furrowed.

“I know he’s your cousin,” Brandon went on, his tone sharp, “but that arsehole walked in like he owned the place—smug grin and all—and asked my father if he’d ‘broken the news’ yet. Lya didn’t even hesitate. She marched straight up to him and punched him in the fucking face.”

Rhaegar blinked. “She what?”

“Oh, it was a solid punch. I’d have gloated if it weren’t for what came next.” Brandon’s jaw tightened. “Robert slapped her back. Hard.”

Rhaegar’s expression darkened, his voice dropping low. “He hit your sister?” He leaned forward, anger lacing his words. “What the fuck is wrong with that guy?”

Rhaegar rarely cursed—but this time, he couldn’t help it. No man had the right to lay a hand on a woman. Ever.

“Yeah,” Brandon said through gritted teeth. “And of course, I followed up Lya’s punch with mine. I think I might’ve damaged his jaw. I can only hope.”

Rhaegar gave a grim nod. “You know I’m a peaceful man, but gods, I truly hope you did too. I’ve only met your sister once, but even if I hadn’t—no one deserves that.”

“Exactly,” Brandon said. “I would’ve gone further if Lya hadn’t yelled for me to stop. But trust my sister—she turned the whole thing around. She made my father see Robert for what he really is. She told him outright that he was trying to marry her off to a man who beats women. Then she looked Robert in the eye and told him that no matter what our father or Ned said, she’d never be his—and that if he ever tried, she’d make his life a living hell.”

Rhaegar let out a low whistle. “That’s… intense. What did Ned have to say in all this? He and Robert are practically brothers.”

“Oh, Ned didn’t escape unscathed,” Brandon said. “Lya tore into him too. Told him he wasn’t her brother anymore. Then she gave our father an ultimatum—said he could disown her if he wanted. She didn’t need his money, didn’t need anything. She’d go back to Winterfell, pack her things, and leave the Starks behind.”

Rhaegar sat back, stunned. “Wow. I literally don’t know what to say. What happens now?”

“Well,” Brandon said, rubbing his temple, “your cousin threw a tantrum and declared there’d be no merger. My father finally realized how badly he’d messed up. Told Robert he was choosing his daughter over the deal. And in true Robert Baratheon fashion, he stormed out yelling that it ‘wasn’t over.’”

“I can already guess what’s next,” Rhaegar muttered. “He’ll go straight to my father to rant. I’m glad you told me all this, at least I know what’s coming. My father will be up in an hour—I’d better get home and tell him myself before Robert twists the story. Don’t worry, I won’t tell him everything. Just that Robert lost his temper. I’ll make sure my father understands the situation.”

Brandon gave a faint smile. “I don’t mind if you tell him. He’s your dad. And I know you won’t give away the details about Lya. I trust you, brother. And hey—thanks for listening. I can always count on you.”

“Always,” Rhaegar said, standing.

Brandon got up too, exhaling. “Come on, we should both get ready for lunch. See you later, man.”

Rhaegar nodded, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Yeah. See you later.”

As they walked out of the café, Rhaegar’s calm composure began to fade. His thoughts lingered on what Brandon had said—on Robert’s temper, Lyanna’s defiance, and the ugly scene that morning. For the first time, he felt a chill crawl down his spine, a quiet knowing that this was only the beginning of something far larger than a broken merger or a bruised jaw.

He sighed, glancing at his watch. Time to go see his parents and tell them they should be ready to face whatever storm Robert Baratheon was about to bring.  

Rhaegar finally returned to his hotel, exhaustion etched on his face. The first thing he did was look for his father. Once he reached the suite, he knocked and was promptly let in. Inside, he found his mother, Rhaella, sipping hot tea, and his father, Aerys, reading the morning paper.

“Good morning, darling,” Rhaella greeted warmly, while Aerys only made a noncommittal sound.

“Hey, Mum, Dad. How are you this morning?” Rhaegar asked, dropping his bag onto the couch.

“We’re good, my love. Come, sit with your mama,” his mother said, patting the seat beside her.

Aerys finally set down the newspaper and took a measured sip of his coffee before speaking. “So, how are things with you and Elia?”

Rhaegar groaned and rolled his eyes. “Dad, you know Elia and I are like brother and sister. You know that. She’s great to hang out with, especially when we’re trying to dodge attention, but there’s nothing romantic there. Our hearts just aren’t… in that space.”

Aerys sighed, setting his cup down with a soft clink. “I know, son. I was just—hoping, I suppose. I can never force you into anything, or your mother would murder me in my sleep…”

“You know it,” Rhaella interjected with a wink.

“It’s just that—it would’ve been nice,” Aerys continued. “You two grew up together. Has Arthur finally grown a pair and pursued her yet?”

Rhaegar blinked, genuinely surprised. “Wait—you know about Arthur’s undying admiration for Elia?”

“Of course I do, boy! I may be as old as Westeros, but I’m not blind. Honestly, Rhaegar, you think so little of me,” Aerys retorted, affronted.

“Of course not, Dad. I just didn’t think you cared about things like this.”

“Fine, I’ll be honest,” Aerys said, leaning back with a smug look. “Although your mother and I were secretly hoping you and Elia might work out, we both know the bond you share isn’t quite like ours—or like any other couple we know. So we thought… why not light a little fire under Arthur’s arse? That’s why we arranged for you to be Elia’s date last night.”

Rhaegar laughed, shaking his head. “Unbelievable! My own parents conspiring like this!”

“What, you think you young ones are the only ones capable of scheming?” Rhaella said, feigning offense. “We were young once, too!”

Aerys smirked. “Now, my boy, you rarely talk to us this early unless something’s on your mind. What is it?”

Rhaegar wasn’t surprised. His father had always been perceptive.

“Well,” he began, sitting straighter, “I met with Brandon Stark this morning. And your nephew did something rather foolish. I wanted to tell you before the story gets twisted.”

“Robert?” Aerys asked sharply.

Rhaegar nodded.

“What did he do this time?”

“As you saw, he brought Lyanna Stark to the charity ball last night. Apparently, she only agreed to go to appease her father, since it was just for one night. Brandon told me she’d been against it from the start. But the worst part—Robert’s been telling people that Lyanna Stark is his fiancée.”

“What?” Aerys exclaimed, nearly spilling his coffee.

“I know,” Rhaegar said with a grim sigh. “Lyanna nearly punched him when she found out. Ned Stark had to pull Robert away before it turned into a scene. Brandon asked me to escort his sister to the Lannister twins afterward, just to avoid another scandal.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Rhaella’s teacup hovered midair, and Aerys pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath.

“That boy is going to be the end of me,” Aerys finally said.

Rhaegar gave a tired chuckle. “You’re not alone in that, Father.”

“Wow,” Rhaella said softly, setting her teacup down. “I knew her. I held Lyanna Stark as a baby. Such a pretty child. She looked like Lyarra—temper like Brandon?”

Rhaegar gave a small chuckle. “Yeah, that sounds about right. At least in this case. Robert must’ve really gotten on her last nerve.”

“Robert gets on everyone’s nerves,” his mother said, shaking her head.

“Anyway,” Rhaegar continued, “Brandon called me earlier and told me what happened this morning. Apparently, Lyanna, Brandon, and Benjen confronted their father. They found out Rickard’s been brokering an arrangement between Lyanna and Robert—a merger between NorthStark and StagMotors. Lyanna lost it when she found out. Brandon said she completely exploded at their father. Then, in the middle of it all, Robert walked in with Ned and smugly asked Rickard if he’d already told Lyanna the news. That’s when she snapped—turned to him and punched him square in the face.”

“Brava!” Aerys exclaimed, clearly impressed.

“But that’s not all,” Rhaegar added grimly. “When she hit him, Robert slapped her back. Hard.”

Rhaella shot to her feet, her face twisting in fury. “What? What is wrong with that boy?!”

“So Brandon stepped in,” Rhaegar said. “Punched Robert right in the jaw for laying a hand on his sister.”

“As he should!” Rhaella said, taking a deep breath before sitting back down again, still visibly fuming.

“Yeah, Mum. I honestly couldn’t believe it either. I know Robert’s got issues—his drinking, his womanizing—but I never thought he’d actually hit a woman.”

“So what happened next, son?” Aerys asked, his tone calm but his eyes sharp.

“Well,” Rhaegar said, “after that, Lyanna and Brandon both gave Rickard an ultimatum. Lyanna said she’d leave the family if he pushed the issue any further. When she stormed out, Brandon stayed behind to talk to Rickard. Eventually, Rickard gave in—he told Robert that his daughter’s happiness mattered more than the merger. Naturally, Robert exploded. Told them to forget the deal and warned the Starks that it ‘isn’t over.’”

Rhaella sighed. “Well. That’s quite a morning for them.”

“I think I know why you came straight here,” Aerys said knowingly. “Robert will probably come barging in soon, twisting the story, painting himself the victim—he’s done it before. I’ve told Steffon to keep that boy on a tighter leash, but Cassana always swoops in to defend him. If Robert finds out you told us first, he’ll probably throw another tantrum. But I’m glad you came here, son. Better to hear the truth before the drama starts.”

“I figured as much,” Rhaegar admitted. “Brandon just needed to vent, but I thought it best to tell you directly. You and Rickard have been friends for years—I don’t want Robert’s behavior to put a strain on that.”

Aerys nodded, thoughtful. “You did the right thing. Rick and I are having lunch later anyway. You’ll be there too, right? You can’t avoid this, Rhae. Besides, Brandon will be there. You’ll want to catch up with him.”

“Of course, Dad,” Rhaegar said. “I already told you—I promised Brandon I’d be there.”

“Oh, it’ll be so nice to see Lyanna again,” Rhaella said dreamily. “I feel like I haven’t seen her in ages, even though she was at the ball last night.” She gave her son a mischievous look. “You know, Rhae… you might want to take advantage of the situation. I think you’d like Lyanna. She’s very, very pretty.”

“Mum,” Rhaegar groaned, running a hand over his face. “She’s Brandon’s little sister.”

“So? Does it matter?” Rhaella teased. “If you married her, you and Brandon would be brothers! Imagine that!”

Aerys burst into laughter, nearly spilling his coffee. “Ha! Now that’s one way to strengthen alliances!”

“Oh, stop,” Rhaegar said, laughing despite himself. “You two are insufferable.”

Rhaella smirked. “Well, I’m just saying, my dear. You’ve had your share of quiet, serious women. Maybe it’s time you met someone who could actually challenge you.”

“Challenge or throttle me?” Rhaegar countered dryly, standing up from his seat.

“Depends on how you behave,” Aerys said with a teasing grin. “But your mother might be onto something. That Stark girl has fire—and if you’re not careful, son, you might find yourself drawn to it.”

Rhaegar chuckled, shaking his head. “I think one fiery woman in this family is enough.” He leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek. “I’ll see you both at lunch.”

But before he could reach the door, Rhaella called after him, her voice warm but curious. “Wait, darling—humor your mother a little longer.”

Rhaegar turned, half amused, half exasperated. “Oh, gods, here we go.”

“Okay, Mum,” he said, walking back to sit on the arm of a chair. “You are way over your head here. You are not matchmaking me with Lyanna Stark. She just graduated from university—she’s young, has plans, ambitions… at least that’s what Brandon said.” He shrugged helplessly.

“That’s understandable,” Rhaella said, eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, but imagine your babies! They would be beautiful! And she’d be such a wonderful sister to Dany!”

Aerys burst out laughing while Rhaegar groaned, rolling his eyes heavenward. “Mum, please.”

“But of course,” Rhaella said, laughing softly. “I’m only teasing. You know we would never force you into anything—unless, of course, your father and I are scheming something.” She winked. “But tell me honestly, son… what do you really think of her?”

Rhaegar hesitated, fingers drumming against his knee. He rarely kept secrets from them, and this time would be no different. He sighed and finally confessed, “I find her very beautiful. And yes, I think I might like her. She’s interesting, confident, and I kind of admire her spirit—even if that temper could get me killed.” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “There’s something about her that draws me in. I don’t want to mislead her or confuse my intentions, but… I’d like to get to know her. Maybe even—well, date her, if it comes to that.”

“Ha! I knew it!” Aerys exclaimed, turning to Rhaella. “Pay up, my love!”

Rhaella rolled her eyes at him but smiled proudly at their son. “You never fail to make me happy, Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar just shook his head with a fond grin at their antics.

Then Rhaella softened. “On a serious note, darling, take this lunch as an opportunity. Get to know her properly—even if Brandon and her brothers hover like guards. I’ll try to find a moment for you two to talk. I have a feeling you’d get along splendidly. According to Rickard, she’s very interested in history and architecture—something you already share. And,” she added with a knowing look, “you’re in a far better position than Robert will ever be.”

Rhaegar chuckled, leaning down to kiss her hand. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mum. I’ll take your advice. Wish me luck.”

“Always,” Rhaella said, her voice gentle and full of warmth.

With one last glance at his smiling parents, Rhaegar finally left the suite. As the door closed behind him, Aerys exhaled a laugh. “You know, Rhaella… if anyone could actually keep that boy on his toes, it would be a Stark.”

Rhaella smiled faintly, lifting her teacup once more. “Oh, I know. And something tells me this is only the beginning.”

Aerys smirked. “Gods help us if it is.”

And as their laughter filled the quiet hotel suite, somewhere down the hall, Rhaegar Targaryen felt—for the first time in a long while—that something extraordinary was about to begin.

Chapter Text

After the morning debacle with Lyanna Stark and Robert Baratheon, the Stark siblings were gathered in their sister’s room, talking through what had happened—along with a few apologies from Ned. Unfortunately for everyone, Ned had to return to the Vale to continue working with Robert. He didn’t argue, nor did he defend him; in truth, the thought that Robert—his friend—had laid a hand on his sister made him sick. He could hardly believe that he had ever considered Robert a suitable husband for Lyanna. The incident had driven a wedge between their friendship, one that seemed impossible to mend.

“So, enough about that. Robert’s gone. Thank the Old Gods for that! I could never stand the smugness of that bloke,” Brandon said. “I mean, sure, StagMotors is a large company and they’re blood-related to the Targaryens, but with all the scandals he’s in, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were bought out and ceased to exist.”

Everyone agreed—even Ned. If it weren’t for his help, Robert wouldn’t even manage his work properly. That was the main reason Robert had been sent to the Vale in the first place: to learn the trade before taking over StagMotors.

“What’s the plan today?” Benjen asked.

“Father said we should get ready. We’re all having lunch with the Targs.”

“All of us?” Lyanna asked.

“Yep, all of us,” Brandon confirmed.

“We’d best be ready then. See you in a bit, Lya,” Brandon said, kissing her forehead. He leaned in closer and whispered, “Your face is still quite red where Robert hit you.”

Lyanna was left speechless, her mouth hanging open as Brandon left the room. She hadn’t even looked at herself in the mirror yet. When she finally did, she saw the angry redness blooming across the left side of her face. It throbbed faintly, but her fury had numbed most of the pain.

“This is going to be a fucking problem. I can’t go out like this,” she muttered under her breath.

“Arghhh! This isn’t happening today!” she said louder, gripping her hair in frustration. “Cersei. I need Cersei.” She repeated the name like a mantra, stormed over to her nightstand, and grabbed her phone.

After five rings, a familiar voice answered.

“Please tell me you’re dying, that you had to call me at this hour,” drawled Cersei.

“Might as well be. We have a situation. You need to come over immediately—bring Jaime if you have to.”

“Fine, fine. Give us half an hour to an hour.”

“I’ll wait,” Lyanna said before hanging up.

Not long after, she found herself standing outside her father’s room. She knocked softly.

“Come in,” came Rickard’s voice.

She stepped inside and found him buttoning up his shirt.

“Ah, Lya. Something the matter?” he asked.

“Actually… yes,” she said quietly.

Rickard looked at her curiously.

“Is there any way I can skip lunch?”

“I’m sorry, darling, but this is one of those things you need to attend. I want to officially introduce you to the Targaryens. The last time they truly saw you, you were still a baby.”

“I see,” she murmured.

“What’s wrong?”

“This,” she said, pointing to the red mark still visible on her cheek.

“Oh, my Lyanna,” her father whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I’m so sorry, my love. Papa is truly sorry,” he murmured again and again as he held her close.

“So, you see,” Lyanna pleaded, “I really need to skip this—or at least be fashionably late?”

Rickard gave her a quizzical look, and she quickly added,

“Cersei’s coming over.”

“Ahh,” he said, now understanding. “Alright. Do what you have to do. I’ll make excuses for you.”

Once she left her father’s room, Lyanna waited anxiously in her own. Thirty minutes later, Cersei finally arrived—with her twin brother, Jaime, in tow.

“Oh my gods! What happened to your face?” Cersei exclaimed the moment she saw her.

“A lot,” Lyanna sighed. “Come in, I’ll tell you everything.”

They settled into the sitting room, and Lyanna recounted everything that had happened that morning. From the look on the twins’ faces, they were livid.

“Who the hell does he think he is—hitting you like that?!” Jaime burst out, his voice sharp with anger.

“I don’t know. Brandon hit him pretty hard too. I think I even broke his nose,” she said, half in disbelief. “I’m glad for it. Ned didn’t even go after him.”

“He better not have,” Jaime said. “You’re his sister. Family comes first.”

“I’m telling Father what a loathsome cockroach Robert is,” Cersei declared.

“Cers, you don’t have to do that,” Lyanna protested.

“She can and she will,” Jaime interjected. “You know the Baratheons have been trying to secure some kind of financial alliance with Father. Believe me—Tywin Lannister won’t take this lightly. The old man won’t risk our name being tarnished by the likes of a Baratheon once he finds out.”

“Is that really wise?” Lyanna asked, her voice uncertain.

Cersei sighed. “He hit you—my best friend. I won’t let that slide, you know me. Besides, it’s better if he’s kept far away from our circle.”

“Thanks, Cers. You two are the best,” Lyanna said softly.

“Yes, we are,” Cersei replied with a smirk. “Now, let’s see what we can do to cover that bruise.”

With Cersei’s skilled hand and Jaime’s occasional teasing comments, they managed to conceal most of the redness with makeup and a light touch of concealer. By the time they were done, the mark was barely visible.

“There,” Cersei said proudly, tilting Lyanna’s chin toward the mirror. “Good as new—no one will ever know a certain stag’s hand got too close for comfort.”

“Thank you, Cers,” Lyanna said, touched. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me lunch. Preferably somewhere that serves good wine,” Cersei quipped, standing.

“I’ll drive you to Riverrun,” Jaime offered. “You shouldn’t show up late and flustered. Father Stark might be counting on you to smooth things over after this morning’s chaos.”

Lyanna hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

As she gathered her bag and gave her reflection one last glance, she muttered under her breath, “Let’s just get this over with.”
It was half an hour before noon when the Stark children—sans Lyanna—arrived at the Riverrun Country Club, owned by the Tully family, the largest distributor of seafood in all of Westeros and a well-known shipping corporation. There, they met Aerys Targaryen, together with his wife, Rhaella, and their eldest son, Rhaegar. The younger Targaryens, Viserys and Daenerys—or Dany, as they fondly called her—were left at home.

“Rickard, my old friend! Come, meet my family,” Aerys said, opening his arms in greeting.

“Aerys,” Rickard greeted warmly, shaking the old dragon’s hand before turning to Rhaella and kissing her cheeks.

“Rhaella, it’s been far too long! The last time I saw you, you were about to pop with your youngest!” he said cheerfully.

“Well, that will be the last,” Rhaella said with a playful sigh. “I swear, I’ve had enough of raising children. I don’t know how you manage, Rickard—only you.” She laughed lightly, then added, “But it’s good to finally have a daughter in the family.”

“Allow me to introduce the rest of these pups,” Rickard said, motioning for his children to come forward. “You already know my eldest, Brandon. Next to him is Eddard—we call him Ned—and this is my youngest, Benjen. Now, my only daughter is running a bit late, and I sincerely apologize. We had a bit of a commotion this morning, but she promised she would be here.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Aerys said with a dismissive wave. “You all know my son, Rhaegar—he and Brandon went to the same university. Now, why don’t we all go inside and settle down for lunch?”

Once they were seated, conversation flowed easily. Aerys’ curiosity, however, soon got the better of him.

“Rickard, I don’t want to pry, but we’ve been friends for years. Our eldest practically grew up together. If there’s anything I can help with—especially regarding the commotion you mentioned about Lyanna—please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

Rickard smiled politely. “Thank you, Aerys. I truly appreciate it. I’ll tell you about it later, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, of course,” Aerys replied, waving a hand. “We’ll talk privately.”

The meal began, and the table filled with laughter and stories from their younger years. It was a cheerful scene—until the doors opened and Lyanna appeared.

She entered gracefully, wearing a blue sundress and oversized sunglasses that nearly covered her entire face.

“Ah, Aerys!” Rickard said with fatherly pride. “My princess has finally arrived! Come here, Lya—I want you to meet my good friend.”

Lyanna approached and offered a polite smile. “I apologize for being late. I had a bit of an incident this morning. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Targaryen.”

“What a beauty!” Aerys exclaimed. “Even behind those sunglasses, I can tell you’re the image of your mother.”

Lyanna nearly faltered. “You… you knew my mother?”

“Of course!” Aerys said fondly. “Lyarra was a true northern beauty—no wonder your father fell head over heels for her.” He took her hand gently in both of his. “And you, my dear, are just like her.”

He turned, gesturing toward his wife. “This is my wife, Rhaella—another dear friend of your mother’s. She held you when you were a baby, you know. She was even there when you were born. And of course, my eldest—you’ve already met him, haven’t you? Rhaegar.”

Lyanna tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help it. Rhaegar’s calm poise and almost ethereal presence drew her in. For once, she felt grateful to Robert for the bruise—at least the sunglasses gave her an excuse to hide her eyes.

“Now, why don’t you have a seat and we’ll have the food brought out?” Aerys offered.

“Thank you, Mr. Targ—”

“None of that ‘Mr.’ business!” he interrupted with a laugh. “Call me Uncle Aerys—and my wife, Aunt Rhaella.”

“Yes, Uncle Aerys,” she replied with a shy smile.

The only vacant seat left was beside Rhaegar. She hesitated for a moment, heart skipping as she wondered, What if he notices the bruise beneath my glasses? She mentally shook her head. Gods, Lyanna, stop being such a girl, she scolded herself and sat down.

The lunch went smoothly. Her father and Aerys talked about the old days, Rhaella shared stories about her mother, and her brothers carried on polite conversation with Rhaegar, who remained courteous and attentive.

After the meal, the group decided to tour the country club grounds. The older men lingered behind to discuss business, while Rhaella excused herself to meet with some women involved in her charity work.

“So, old man, what truly happened today? The kids are now out of earshot—and so is everyone else.”

Rickard sighed heavily before speaking. “Lya’s like her mother—headstrong, that one. But I know I was wrong with what I did. I’m glad she forgave me. What happened this morning, though, I cannot forgive. And I know you’re related to the Baratheons… but he struck my little girl—my only girl.”

“He what now?” Aerys asked, his tone darkening.

“Yes,” Rickard said grimly. “He struck Lyanna across the face. If you noticed, she never took off her sunglasses through lunch—it’s because her cheek’s still red. Her best friend had to come this morning just to help her cover it up.”

Aerys leaned back, frowning. “I told Steffon he needed to rein that boy in, but he never listens. Every time.”

Rickard nodded. “I thought it would be good business—a merger with StagMotors—so I thought Lyanna and Robert might work out. I was only hoping… not realizing I was pushing her away.”

Aerys sighed. “We’re both guilty of that, my friend. I’ve been trying to push Rhaegar to date the Martell girl for the sake of business. Told him I wanted a merger with Sunspear, though truth be told, I don’t trust those Dornish. I just want the boy to settle down. He’s all work—no life. His mother barely sees him.”

Rickard managed a faint smile. “You sound just like me.”

Aerys gave a short laugh. “Rhaegar told us what happened, by the way. He met Brandon this morning, and after hearing the story, he came to us out of concern. Don’t be angry at him for stepping in—he only did what was right.”

Rickard’s expression softened. “I’m not angry. I’m grateful. Brandon said Rhaegar helped calm Lyanna down last night. I owe your boy for that.”

Aerys nodded with quiet pride. “He’s got his mother’s heart. Maybe a touch of my stubbornness too.”

The two men fell silent for a while, the firelight flickering across the polished wood walls.

Aerys set his glass down, eyes dark with irritation. “I’ll talk to Steffon about his son. That boy needs to learn boundaries—and consequences. I’m done making excuses for him.”

Rickard nodded grimly. “Good. Let the Stags clean up their own messes. The North shouldn’t bow to the South—not in business, not in blood.”

Their glasses met with a quiet chime, sealing an unspoken agreement between the wolf and the dragon. 

Meanwhile, the Stark siblings, together with Rhaegar Targaryen, were exploring the Riverrun Country Club. Though the Starks and Targaryens had been family friends for generations, having all of them together in one place was a rare occasion.

Lyanna walked arm in arm with Benjen, while Ned lagged a few steps behind. Ahead of them, Brandon and Rhaegar strolled side by side.

Rhaegar tried to keep his eyes from wandering toward Lyanna, but he failed miserably. He wasn’t as discreet as he thought, and Brandon had already caught on since the previous night.

“So, Rhae,” Brandon began with a teasing smirk, “when are you going to grow a spine and ask my sister out?”

Rhaegar froze mid-step. He hadn’t expected that at all. Of all the people he thought would bring it up, Brandon wasn’t one of them. He laughed awkwardly. “What are you talking about, B?”

“Oh, come on. I’m not blind,” Brandon replied, amused. “You’ve been staring at her since last night. Don’t bother denying it. So—when?”

Rhaegar sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man. I do find her interesting—more than anyone I’ve met, actually. But I don’t think she’s ready for that. She just graduated, she’s figuring out her path. The last thing I want is to be a distraction.”

“Which is exactly why I’d rather you ask her out than anyone else,” Brandon said earnestly. “You’re grounded, mature. I trust you with her. Besides, you’re not a distraction. You’re someone she can learn from.”

Rhaegar smiled faintly, genuinely touched. “That means a lot, B. Honestly, I’ve been overthinking this. I was worried you’d be against it.”

“If it were anyone else, I would be,” Brandon admitted. “But you—you’re one of the good ones. Better than me, even. You’ve got discipline, no vices, you respect people, you work hard. If there’s anyone I’d trust with Lyanna’s happiness, it’s you.”

“That… actually makes me feel better. I’ve been carrying a bit of guilt about even thinking this way.”

“Please,” Brandon chuckled. “If I left it to you, you’d never talk about it at all. You’re no different from Arthur—except you actually listen to good advice.”

“Thanks, brother. Truly.”

Brandon’s smile faded slightly. “Though I am worried about something else—Robert Baratheon.”

Rhaegar’s tone darkened. “Because of what happened this morning?”

“Yeah. His last words to Father were, ‘This isn’t over.’ I don’t like that one bit.”

“You’re right to be concerned,” Rhaegar said. “I spoke to my parents earlier. I didn’t tell them every detail, but they know enough. My father’s furious. He’s planning to talk to Uncle Steffon about Robert’s behavior—he’s been calling him out for years, actually. It’s embarrassing. Our family’s name keeps getting dragged down with the Baratheons’ antics.”

Brandon nodded grimly. “I can imagine. Honestly, they should’ve let Stannis take over years ago. He’s a better man.”

“Agreed. He reminds me of your brother Ned—steady, responsible, always the peacemaker.”

Brandon laughed dryly. “Let’s hope Ned stays that way. I just wish he’d see Robert for what he truly is. That loyalty of his blinds him sometimes.”

“Has Lyanna forgiven him yet?”

“Somewhat. She’s still furious, and rightfully so. But to Ned’s credit, he didn’t chase after Robert. He stayed, he apologized. He was devastated when Robert hit her. I think it finally broke whatever illusion he had left about their friendship.”

Rhaegar nodded solemnly. “I heard from my father that Robert’s been taking credit for most of Ned’s work at the Vale. It’s infuriating. Honestly, Ned deserves far better.”

“What?” Brandon frowned. “I didn’t know that.”

“Come on,” Rhaegar said, motioning toward where the others stood. “Let’s go talk to him. Best if we settle this now.”

Brandon nodded, and together they walked toward the table where Ned, Lyanna, and Benjen were standing.

“Let’s sit over there,” Rhaegar suggested quietly, pointing to a shaded spot by the terrace. “I’ll order some drinks. Just start without me if you must.”

Brandon led his siblings to the table while Rhaegar went to find a waiter. Once everyone was seated, Brandon spoke gravely.

“Rhae’s getting us something to drink, but we need to talk—especially you, Ned.”

Ned said nothing, keeping his head down until Lyanna reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

“Let’s just wait for Rhaegar,” Brandon continued. “He has some insight we should all hear.”

Minutes later, Rhaegar returned with a waiter carrying their drinks and snacks. When they were finally settled, Brandon took a breath.

“Ned, I need you to be honest with us. You’re not one to lie, but you do tend to sugarcoat things. How are things really at the Vale?”

Ned hesitated, then spoke quietly. “Robert barely comes to work. Most of the tasks fall on me. I cover for him constantly.”

“What the hell, Ned?!” Lyanna exclaimed. “Does Father know?”

“No. Only Jon Arryn does. And I told him not to tell Father—I didn’t want to be pulled out. I love what I do.”

“Love what you do?” Brandon said sharply. “Robert’s taking advantage of you! That’s not friendship, Ned.”

“I just don’t want to fight with him. It’s exhausting,” Ned murmured.

Lyanna sighed. “You have other options, you know. The Vale isn’t the only place you can work.”

“I’ve been there a long time,” Ned said weakly.

Rhaegar leaned forward. “Have you even been promoted properly? From what I know, you’ve been promoted once. Robert’s been promoted twice—for your work. My father’s been telling Uncle Steffon for years that this behavior reflects badly on their family. It’s unfair to you.”

Ned looked down, guilt etched on his face.

“Listen,” Rhaegar continued gently. “You’re talented, Ned. You don’t owe Robert anything. You’ve learned what you needed at the Vale. But when Uncle Rickard retires, NorthStark will need you. Don’t waste your skills building someone else’s empire.”

Brandon nodded. “Exactly. We’re not saying quit right now—just think it through. You’ll see things differently once you go back.”

Rhaegar added, “And if you decide to leave, you’ll always have a place with us. My family’s companies would welcome you. Just say the word.”

Lyanna looked between them, admiration flickering in her eyes. She hadn’t expected Rhaegar to defend Ned so strongly, and something in her heart shifted.

Ned finally exhaled. “You’re all right. I can’t keep doing this. I’ll go back, see how things are, and decide from there. But after what happened today, I can’t be friends with Robert anymore.”

Brandon placed a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Whatever you decide, we’ve got your back, Ned. Always.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. For the first time that day, peace settled over them—a quiet understanding that family would always come first.

Chapter Text

Everyone at the table sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until Lyanna finally rose from her seat, smoothing the folds of her dress.

“Alright, lads, I have to get ready. The Whents offered me a tour of Harrenhal, and I’m taking advantage of that today. I’m just hoping everything’s cleared up from last night’s party.”

“Does Father know about this, Lya?” Benjen asked, looking up from his plate.

“Yes, little brother. The offer was made last night by Mr. and Mrs. Whent—right in front of Father. Papa said yes, as long as the place is back to normal operation.”

Brandon raised a brow. “Why would you want to tour that old place anyway? It’s a bit boring, don’t you think?”

“Hey! I find the structure fascinating,” Lyanna defended, crossing her arms. “And I’m sure they’ll tell me more about its history.”

“Gods, you’re such a nerd, Lya,” Brandon groaned, rolling his eyes.

“You act as if you’re not one yourself! Need I remind you about your Valyrian obsession? Or your little astronomy phase?”

“Alright, alright! I yield,” Brandon laughed. “I guess we truly are siblings.”

“You know it.” Lyanna winked.

Ned, ever the quiet one, asked, “Are you going directly from here?”

“I suppose so. No point delaying. I just need to let Papa know—and of course, say goodbye to Uncle Aerys.”

Brandon leaned back with a grin. “I have an idea.”

Lyanna gave him a wary look. “Go on…”

“Rhae, why don’t you go with Lya? You’ve been to Harrenhal plenty of times. You could tell her about its history and architecture. Plus, the Whents adore you. No problem there, right?”

Rhaegar blinked, caught off guard. He schooled his expression quickly to hide the spark of excitement. “Sure—if Lyanna doesn’t mind the company. I’ve got nothing else planned.”

Lyanna felt her stomach twist at the thought. “Erm… okay. As long as I’m not disrupting your day, I’d love to hear your perspective.”

Brandon clapped his hands once. “Perfect. Let’s go find the old men and tell them. I think the three of us need to speak to Papa and Uncle Aerys.” 

They found the two patriarchs still seated at their table from earlier, laughing and sipping coffee as if they had all the time in the world.

“Hello, my Papa,” Lyanna greeted, kissing Rickard’s cheek. He smiled, took her hands, and guided her to sit beside him.

“What schemes are you plotting, my princess?” he teased.

“How could you think that of me?” Lyanna feigned offense, though her lips twitched with a suppressed grin. “I’m your favorite daughter!”

“Lya, you are my only daughter,” Rickard said, chuckling. “Now tell me—what are your plans for today?”

“Well, you know how the Whents offered me a tour of Harrenhal? I was hoping to do that today. We’ll be leaving for Winterfell the day after tomorrow, and I’d hate to waste the chance.”

“Alright, let me call Walter and ask if the castle’s ready for your visit. Are your brothers going?”

“Erm… no. Brandon volunteered Rhaegar to accompany me.”

“Volunteered?” Rickard repeated, amused. “Or volun-told?”

“Volun-told,” Lyanna admitted. “It’s when someone volunteers another person instead of themselves.”

Rickard and Aerys laughed at her answer.

“Oh, Rickard,” Aerys said between chuckles, “even her humor is like Laura’s.”

“So, Papa, can I go?” Lyanna asked sweetly.

“Yes, you can,” Rickard said. “You’re old enough to take care of yourself.” Then, turning to Rhaegar, he added, “But you—make sure she doesn’t twist your arm into one of her pranks.”

“Papa!” Lyanna protested.

“Also, feed her. She gets cranky when she’s hungry,” Benjen piped in.

“Oh yes,” Rickard agreed, laughing. “Don’t be fooled by her size—she eats like Brandon.”

“Alright, alright! I’ll stop teasing you now,” Rickard said at last. “Let me call Walter, and then you can go.”

“Thank you, Papa!” Lyanna said, hugging and kissing him. 

Lyanna and Rhaegar stepped out of the country club. As they waited for Rhaegar’s car at the valet, Lyanna shifted nervously, breaking the silence.

“So… are you sure you’re okay hanging out with me today? You’re even driving me.”

“Of course, I’m okay with it,” Rhaegar said, a little too quickly. “Honestly, I’m glad for the distraction. I almost spent the morning checking work emails. Your brother rescued me.”

“Oh, I see,” she said softly, sounding almost disappointed.

Rhaegar caught her tone. “Lya—if I can call you that?”

She nodded.

“I’d love to take you there,” he said sincerely. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off you. You’re fascinating. I just wasn’t sure how to act… with all that Robert mess going on.”

Lyanna smiled and touched his arm gently. “Thank you, Rhaegar.”

He smiled back just as the valet arrived with the car, saving them from another bout of awkward silence.

As they drove toward Harrenhal, Rhaegar spoke again. “Lya, I know what happened this morning. Brandon told me. I hope you’re not mad at him.”

Lyanna sighed. “No, I’m not. I’m just glad it’s over. I can’t be with a man like that. Papa trying to force my hand could’ve caused real damage to our family. I’m just relieved he realized none of us will ever be forced into anything.”

Rhaegar reached for her hand. “I understand. I know what it’s like to be pushed into something you don’t want—something that could define your life forever.”

“Thanks, Rhae. That means a lot. Speaking of which… aren’t you supposed to be engaged to Elia Martell?”

Rhaegar chuckled. “Ah, that. Apparently my parents finally realized Elia and I were never meant to be. Last night was more of a ploy—Aerys and Rhaella trying to push Arthur toward her instead. Those two have been circling each other for years.”

Lyanna’s eyes widened. “Arthur and Elia? Really?”

“Ask Brandon,” Rhaegar said, laughing. “It’s been obvious to everyone.”

“Well, Brandon shouldn’t laugh too hard,” Lyanna replied. “He’s no better. He should just tell Arthur he’s seeing Ashara already.”

“Wait—you know about that?”

“Of course. Brandon tells me everything.”

“Huh,” Rhaegar mused. “And you’re okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I like Ashara. She’d make a lovely sister-in-law—if Brandon ever grows the courage to tell Arthur.”

“Maybe he’s worried about what Arthur would say. Older brothers can be protective of their sisters.”

Lyanna crossed her arms, the late-morning sun glinting off her sunglasses. “You have a point,” she admitted, smirking.

“Speaking of protective brothers—you told me earlier you find me interesting. Are you not worried about Brandon being your best friend and me being his sister?”

Rhaegar glanced at her, his expression thoughtful but teasing. “Worried? Perhaps a little. But I’ve never been the type to let fear dictate my choices.”

Lyanna arched a brow. “Bold words for someone who might soon have Brandon’s fist in his face.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’ll take my chances. Besides, I’m fairly certain your brother wouldn’t throw the first punch—not unless you tell him to.”

Her laughter spilled out, bright and unrestrained. “You don’t know Brandon as well as you think.”

“I’m beginning to,” Rhaegar said, his voice quieting. “And you too.”

Something in the way he said it made her heart skip. The playfulness between them softened into something heavier—unspoken, fragile. Lyanna looked away, pretending to watch the line of cars driving by.

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Rhaegar sighed, running a hand through his silver hair before saying,

“I did actually think about it—about Brandon. About you.”

Lyanna turned toward him, her curiosity piqued.

“I was worried,” he continued. “First, I just met you last night. Second, you’re still young and have so much ahead of you. I don’t want to distract you from whatever it is you want to do. I don’t even know what to do myself half the time. I am attracted to you, Lyanna—but my first worry was Brandon. Still, when I told him, he only asked me when I’d finally have the courage to ask you out.”

The knots in Lyanna’s stomach twisted tighter. She hadn’t expected that. For the first time in years—even more than with Jaime—someone made her feel like this: curious, nervous, alive. And it terrified her a little.

She drew a breath, summoning her usual boldness.

“So,” she said, her tone deceptively light, “when will you have the courage to ask me out?”

Rhaegar nearly choked on air, eyes widening. For a second, it looked as though he might actually hit on the breaks. Then he laughed quietly, shaking his head as he slows down the driveway of Harrenhal.

Before answering, he turned off the engine and faced her, 

“I’ll always be honest with you, Lya. As of right now, I have no plans to ask you out—not yet, and not in a romantic sense. That’s because I want you to know your heart and mind first. I want us to get to know each other without expectations. I’m attracted to you, yes—but I also want you to take your time. We live far apart, and I’d rather wait for something real than rush into something uncertain.”

Lyanna looked up at him, stunned by the sincerity in his voice. She hadn’t considered half the things he’d said.

“I… didn’t even think of that,” she admitted softly. “Thank you, Rhaegar—for being honest. For considering me.”

He smiled—warm, patient, with that quiet gravity she was beginning to recognize as his way of caring.

“Think on it later. For now,” he said, nodding toward the castle, “let’s indulge your curious mind, shall we?”

Lyanna grinned. “We shall.”  

Lyanna and Rhaegar stepped through the grand doors of Harrenhal. For Lyanna, it felt as though she were seeing it for the first time. The glitter of last night’s ball had vanished, leaving only the solemn grandeur of the castle. Her eyes roamed eagerly, wide with curiosity and fascination; she scarcely knew where to begin.

They were met by Mr. Walter Whent, who, as promised, guided them through the castle. With each step, Lyanna’s awe deepened—not just for the history of Harrenhal, but for Rhaegar himself.

“Now, I did not expect to see you both here,” Walter said warmly. “But I am glad you came. My dear Lyanna,” he continued, turning to her, “my memory of these walls is not as sharp as it once was. Rhaegar, however, seems to know them as if he walked these halls yesterday. You even took a short course on Harrenhal’s history, did you not?”

“Yes, sir,” Rhaegar answered, his voice modest.

“Modest, but we both know your knowledge of history is as vast as Westeros and Essos! Your father has always been proud of how much you can absorb. And how is he, by the way? Not too tired after last night, I hope?”

“Not at all, sir. He and my mother are well. We had lunch with the Starks earlier today, which is why Lyanna and I are here touring together.”

“Ah, yes—Rickard and Aerys. Those two were inseparable. The mischief they got into in their youth! And your father found his partner in Rhaella,” Walter said with a chuckle.

“If I remember correctly,” Rhaegar added, “my mother once said it keeps them young.”

Walter laughed, a rich, hearty sound that made Lyanna laugh with him.

“Well, then,” he said, “I will leave you to explore parts of the castle we usually open to the public. I have already shown you areas rarely seen. Rhaegar, I trust you to guide this young wolf. You know these halls better than anyone.” He turned to Lyanna once more. “My old bones can no longer manage such walking, and after last night, rest is welcome. You are in very capable hands.”

“Oh, Mr. Whent,” Lyanna protested, “if I had known you would be so tired from the ball, I would not have insisted on visiting today.”

“Nonsense, my dear. You are always welcome. I am glad you came with Rhaegar. Now go—enjoy yourselves. The staff has been instructed to accommodate anything you may need.”

“Thank you, Mr. Whent. I hope to see you and Mrs. Whent again before we leave,” Lyanna said.

“I’m sure you will, my dear,” he replied, smiling.

Walter left them standing on the veranda, the doors opening to gardens and distant wings of the castle. Lyanna stepped into the cool breeze, breathing it in, closing her eyes. Unnoticed by her, Rhaegar had been watching, his gaze fixed. He approached slowly and fell into step beside her.

“It’s wonderful here,” she whispered, eyes still closed. “I can’t believe it took me so long to see this place.”

“It is indeed,” Rhaegar said softly. “I have been here countless times, often dragging Brandon and Arthur along. I think they grew tired of my weekly visits when we were at KLU.”

Lyanna opened her eyes, meeting the depth of his indigo gaze.

“How lucky you are! I wish I could have attended a university near places like this. I love the North—it is beautiful—but having grown up there, I longed to see the warmer south, even beyond Westeros. Perhaps one day I will explore the Free Cities.”

“Perhaps you will,” Rhaegar replied, “to your heart’s content.”

They lingered on the veranda, the breeze stirring around them, before continuing their tour. Lyanna hung on every word, every story Rhaegar shared. Though the castle itself was mesmerizing, what fascinated her most was the breadth of his knowledge.

Hours passed unheeded until the sun dipped low, painting the sky with gold and rose.

“Wow! We’ve been here so long! I didn’t even notice the time,” Lyanna exclaimed.

“Time passes quickly when you are enjoying yourself,” Rhaegar said, a gentle smile on his lips.

“You are certainly right, Rhaegar Targaryen. Thank you for coming with me on such short notice.”

“It’s my pleasure to give you this tour, Lyanna Stark,” he said with a grin.

After bidding farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Whent, who offered yet another open invitation to visit whenever they wished, the two stepped out of the castle together.

“So… I assume you’re staying at Dragonstone Hotel as well?” Rhaegar asked.

“Yes, the whole family is,” Lyanna replied. “Including your cousin—not that he counts as family, at least not for me.” She rolled her eyes, referring to Robert Baratheon.

“Oh, right. I almost forgot about him. Gods… what was he thinking?”

“I don’t think Robert really thinks, if we’re being honest,” she said. “The way he drags my brother into all his… shenanigans disgusts me. I’m just glad Ned finally woke up from his slumber of Robert Baratheon.”

“Yeah,” Rhaegar said, nodding. “I told Brandon how I found out what Ned and Robert have been up to in the Vale. Honestly, StagMotors might have a better future if Stannis were at the helm.”

“That’s true,” Lyanna agreed.

As they started driving, Rhaegar’s expression shifted slightly, remembering Benjen’s words earlier.

“So… you’re still okay, not cranky, and you don’t need food?” he teased.

“Oh my gods! What is wrong with you!” Lyanna exclaimed, laughing.

“I cannot believe my own family would say things like that. Though… they’re not entirely wrong,” she added, still smiling.

Rhaegar chuckled softly. “But seriously, Lia… want to grab something to eat?”

“Nah,” she said. “Remember, we had snacks at the country club, just a few minutes after lunch. Then more snacks at Harrenhal. I’m pretty full at the moment.”

“Alright, if you’re sure,” he said, smiling.

The drive passed in easy banter, laughter, and conversation about their lives. They even discussed business, family companies, and responsibilities. Lyanna felt completely at ease with Rhaegar now—the awkward silences had vanished, replaced by a comforting quiet when it did arise.

“So… you’re heading back to Winterfell the day after tomorrow?” Rhaegar asked.

“Yes,” Lyanna said, “but there are still so many things I want to do before then—hang out with the terrible twins, maybe explore more of the area.”

“That’s a good plan,” he said, a teasing note in his voice. “I hope you don’t forget me with all the things you have planned.”

“Of course not,” she replied. “Why don’t you hand me your phone? I’ll save my number, and you can let me know if you want to hang out.”

“You have the best ideas,” Rhaegar said, handing her his phone with a smile.

After a few more minutes of driving, they finally arrived at the Dragonstone Hotel. Rhaegar, ever the gentleman, insisted on walking Lyanna to her door. They strolled down the hallway of her floor, joking and teasing, when a voice suddenly cut through the air.

“So, you refuse to marry me and yet cling to my cousin like a leech, you fucking wolf-bitch!”

Both Lyanna and Rhaegar turned. Furious and clearly drunk, Robert Baratheon stood in the hallway. They froze, giving him a chance to continue.

“I guess you Northerners wanted more of the Targaryens, huh? Because they’re richer? You want to whore yourself to a wealthier man in Westeros?”

Rhaegar stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “Robert, don’t you think it’s too early for a drink?”

“What is it to you?” Robert slurred. “Don’t think I didn’t see you staring at my fiancée since last night! You’ve always been jealous of me, Rhaegar, because I get all the ladies. By the way, your hair makes you look… gay!”

Rhaegar might have laughed if Robert hadn’t been insulting Lyanna.

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough,” Rhaegar said. “Should I call security? Or perhaps your parents?”

Before Robert could respond, heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. Seconds later, Brandon appeared, flanked by Benjen and Ned.

“What’s going on here?” Brandon’s deep voice filled the corridor.

“It’s none of your fucking business! This is between me and Lyanna! Mind your own affairs!” Robert yelled.

“It is our business because she is our sister,” Brandon shot back. “You have no say in who she sees or doesn’t see. She is not yours to claim!”

“We’re supposed to get married!” Robert protested.

That was the final straw. Lyanna stepped in front of Rhaegar, her voice steady and sharp.

“First of all, we were never engaged! Second, I don’t even like you. In fact, I loathe the sight of you. You think you’re special because you’re heir to StagMotors? Guess what—no one gives a flying fuck! You’re a disgrace to your family, dragging everyone down with you—the Targaryens, the Starks. You are a disgusting human being! Rhaegar is not jealous of you. Yes, he may be richer, but he is also infinitely smarter, kinder, and far more admirable than you could ever be. You, Robert Baratheon, are delusional to the highest degree, and I am utterly disgusted by your existence!”

The hallway fell silent. Robert’s mouth flapped uselessly. Ned and Brandon seized the moment, grabbing him by the arms and dragging him away.

Lyanna turned to Benjen. “Is Papa still awake?”

Benjen nodded and went to fetch their father. Lyanna felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and remembered Rhaegar beside her.

“You alright, Lya?” he asked quietly.

She took a deep breath. “Yeah… I’m alright. Though I’m exhausted at the same time.”

“I understand. Let’s get you to your suite so you can rest. I’ll stay until your father and brothers arrive. And I should call my dad… I hope you don’t mind me telling him what happened tonight?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not a problem. I’d be comforted knowing your parents are aware of the situation. I don’t want to be a burden, but it’s important they know.”

Rhaegar guided her to a couch and knelt before her. “Hey, you’re not a burden. I’m just ashamed I’m related to him. We knew he could be bad, but I never thought he’d be this bad. You’re right—it’s important my parents know. Relax here for a bit. I’ll make the call. Want anything to drink? There’s wine in the fridge, or water if you prefer.”

“Wine would be nice. Thank you, Rhaegar.”

After handing her a glass, Rhaegar stepped back and dialed his father.

“Dad?” he began.

“Rhae? What’s going on? Everything went well with your tour with Lyanna?” his father asked.

“Yes, Dad. Everything went well. But when we arrived here at Dragonstone, we saw Robert lurking and waiting for Lyanna down the hallway. He was drunk and started yelling at us, mostly at Lyanna. He called her names, but luckily Lyanna stunned him with her words. Ned and Brandon dragged him out. I think he may have been taken to his room. Do you think I should call security and have him removed or sent back to Storm’s End?”

“What in the… Robert is truly becoming a problem. Yes, do what you think is best. How’s Lyanna?”

“She’s doing well. She’s strong and brave, but also exhausted. I think it’s from all the excitement of the day, and this incident has definitely added weight on her.”

“I’m glad she’s alright. Take care of the situation for me over there. Your mother and I will leave earlier than expected. We should go to Storm’s End as soon as possible. I’ll give Steffon one more chance to rein in Robert. If not, then we’ll end that relationship publicly.”

“Are you sure, Dad?”

“Yes. It’s about time. Our family has been dragged along by Robert’s behavior and his parents’ negligence for far too long. I will no longer accept empty promises. I’ve had enough.”

“As long as you are on it, I shall not oppose you.”

“Take care of her, Rhaegar. I’ll see you soon, son.”

“I will, Dad. You and Mum take care.”

After hanging up, Rhaegar sat beside Lyanna. Without realizing why, he reached for her hand, holding it gently and caressing it as if he had done so for years.

“How was your call?” Lyanna asked.

“Dad decided to leave earlier than planned. They’re heading to Storm’s End to talk to Robert’s parents about his behavior.”

“Oh no! Wouldn’t that be inconvenient for them? I didn’t mean to trouble Uncle Aerys and Aunt Rhaella.”

“Hey,” Rhaegar said, squeezing her hand. He was glad Lyanna wasn’t pulling away. “Don’t worry about it. This has been long overdue. By the way, I need to talk to security. Robert needs to go. I’ll have him sent back to Storm’s End. He can’t stay here.”

“Are you sure? I could just move to another hotel… maybe where Cersei and Jaime are staying.”

“You don’t have to, Lya. You’re only here for one more day. Let Robert face the consequences, not you. I’ll stay with you until your father arrives, then I’ll see to security, and come back to check on you, okay?”

“Alright.” She sighed and, without thinking, rested her head on Rhaegar’s shoulder. He felt comforted by her presence, even more than she probably did.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until the door opened—and Rickard, Brandon, Ned, and Benjen entered.

“How is she?” Rickard asked, walking over to Lyanna.

Lyanna felt a surge of emotion. She ran to her father, just like she had always done as a child.

“Oh, Papa!” she cried, hugging him tightly.

Rickard hugged her back, murmuring softly. “Oh, my love… I am so sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have given him any hope.”

“No, Papa. This was never your fault. Yes, you made some arrangement with him, but it was not you who behaved this way. It was him, and him alone. You made it clear the arrangement is no longer valid. There was no signed contract, no gentleman’s agreement. This is all on him.”

While father and daughter spoke, Rhaegar approached Brandon.

“Hey, man. I need to talk to security. Robert needs to go tonight. I can’t let him stay here while Lyanna is here. My parents have given me the go-ahead. They’re leaving tomorrow for Storm’s End to speak with Robert’s parents. I think my father is finally ready to give them an ultimatum.”

“Thank you, brother, for taking care of our sister. You should take Ned with you when you go into Robert’s room—he’s still awake, ranting and sulking. Are you coming back afterward?” Brandon asked.

“Yeah. I’ll come back to check on Lya, then head back to my hotel. I’ll probably give her a call if not see her tomorrow.”

“You’re a good man, Rhaegar. I’ll see you in a bit.”

With that, Rhaegar left Lyanna’s suite with Ned, heading down to the hotel’s security office.  

The situation with Robert had taken far longer than expected. His drunken tantrum was enough to give anyone a headache, but in the end, Rhaegar’s trusted security managed to escort him back to Storm’s End. Exhausted, he felt a quiet satisfaction. He had spent time with Lyanna, seen her quick wit, and glimpsed the strength that drew him to her. She was a woman worth every bit of attention.

It was still early evening, and he had promised to check on her, so there was time yet. Ned and Rhaegar finally finished their task and made their way back to Lyanna’s suite, the corridor quiet except for the soft echo of their footsteps.

“I can’t believe he said those things to my sister,” Ned muttered, his hands clenched at his sides. His voice trembled slightly with restrained anger. “This is the man I considered my best friend. He had the audacity to get physical with her, and when she resisted… he called her names I wouldn’t even use on anyone.”

Rhaegar’s brow furrowed, a mix of surprise and disgust passing over his features. He had always known Ned to be quiet, contemplative—someone who thought before speaking. Yet here he was, raw and unrestrained.

“I know, man. Honestly… I’m ashamed to be related to him. Gods! The scandals he’s dragged everyone through… I’m glad you’re finally seeing who he truly is.” Rhaegar’s voice carried both frustration and a quiet solidarity, his hand brushing Ned’s shoulder in a brief gesture of camaraderie.

Ned shook his head, his eyes dark with lingering anger. “I feel ashamed for what I put Lya through. I promised I’d make it up to her for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something had happened to her at Robert’s hands. Seeing this tonight… it solidified my decision to leave the Vale. I was going to wait another month or two, but I just… couldn’t. Two weeks’ notice is enough. I’ll give it as soon as I return.”

“Have you told your family yet?” Rhaegar asked, his voice softening, his indigo eyes steady on Ned.

“Not yet. But I will tonight. I’m sure they’ll understand.” Ned’s jaw set, and he let out a slow, controlled breath.

“Yeah… don’t worry, Ned. You’ll do great wherever you go.” Rhaegar offered a reassuring nod, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Thanks, man. And… thank you for taking care of my sister.”

“You’re welcome.”

They finally arrived at Lyanna’s suite. The tension of the night seemed to lift in an instant. Through the slightly ajar door, laughter spilled out, warm and unrestrained. A round table was laid with food, and the sight of Lyanna, Brandon, and Rickard enjoying themselves brought a rare smile to Rhaegar’s lips.

“You’re back! Come on, it’s dinner time—we didn’t even realize the time,” Rickard called, his voice carrying a warmth that eased the heaviness from the corridor. “Rhaegar, join us before you go back to your rooms. We can talk while we eat.”

Rhaegar stepped inside, the soft clatter of his boots on the floor a quiet punctuation to the moment. He caught Lyanna’s gaze, and for a second, the world seemed to narrow to that brief, shared look. She smiled—a small, tired, but genuine curve of her lips—and his chest warmed at the sight.

Ned shot him a brief, almost imperceptible nod, and Rhaegar returned it, letting a small tension in his shoulders ease. They had done what needed to be done. Tonight, at least, the worst was behind them.

The laughter and chatter around the table gradually settled into a comfortable hum. Rhaegar took a seat beside Lyanna, careful to leave her space, but close enough that their knees brushed slightly under the table. She caught his glance and offered a small, amused smile.

“So,” Lyanna said softly, leaning back in her chair, “you handled Robert quite well tonight. I’m impressed.”

Rhaegar gave a modest shrug, swirling the wine in his glass. “I didn’t do anything you couldn’t handle yourself. But… I wanted to make sure you weren’t left alone.” His eyes flicked to hers for a heartbeat longer than necessary, just enough that she noticed.

Lyanna’s smile widened, tinged with both relief and gratitude. “Thank you, Rhaegar. I… I don’t think I could have faced him alone.”

“You wouldn’t have had to.” His voice was quiet but steady. “Not tonight. Not ever, if I can help it.”

The sound of plates being passed and voices laughing in the background seemed to fade for a moment, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of calm. Lyanna took a small sip of her wine and met his gaze again.

“You know,” she said, tilting her head thoughtfully, “you weren’t wrong about Harrenhal earlier. There’s something about history, the way it lingers in stones and halls… it’s almost intoxicating.”

Rhaegar’s lips curved into a soft grin. “I knew you’d appreciate it. You have the curiosity for it. The way you listened… I don’t often see someone hang on to every word I say.”

Lyanna laughed lightly. “Maybe I’ve finally met someone worth listening to.” There was a playful lift in her tone, but beneath it lay sincerity.

Rhaegar’s chest warmed at her words. “I think… I could say the same about you. You make history feel alive, Lyanna. Not just in books or stones, but everywhere you go.”

A faint blush colored her cheeks, and she looked down at her hands, then back up at him. “You’re too kind, Rhaegar.”

“Not kind, honest.” He paused, considering how to say it. “I’ve spent a long time seeing people for what they are. And… you? You’re not just another Stark. You’re sharp, brave, and… well, completely captivating.”

Lyanna’s breath caught slightly, though she tried to hide it with a small laugh. “You flatter me too much.”

“I don’t flatter,” he said, his tone steady, almost serious. “I simply… tell the truth.”

The moment stretched comfortably between them. Across the table, Brandon and Rickard were talking about some minor detail of the meal, but the noise had become background to the quiet intensity of their conversation. Rhaegar reached across subtly, brushing his hand near hers. Lyanna didn’t pull away. She let the contact linger, a silent acknowledgment of trust and comfort.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Rhaegar murmured. “Tonight… it would have been much worse without you.”

Lyanna’s gaze softened, and she allowed herself a small, tired smile. “And I’m glad you stayed.”

The rest of the meal passed in warmth and gentle conversation, but that small connection—the shared glance, the brush of hands—lingered between them. For the first time in a long day of chaos, both felt a quiet kind of peace.

Chapter Text

For the first time in several years, Lyanna woke up late. The events of yesterday had left her exhausted, both physically and mentally. There were so many highlights—seeing her two best friends, exploring Harrenhal—but most of all, meeting Rhaegar Targaryen. Her time with him replayed endlessly in her mind, and it felt like he was living there rent-free.

The fact that he was strikingly handsome was only a bonus. It was his intelligence, calm demeanor, and witty retorts that made her heart flutter, especially when his indigo eyes lingered on her with that intense gaze. She knew it was something she would never forget.

And yet, everything was happening too fast. She remembered Rhaegar’s words—that she should take her time, that she was still young and had so many things she wanted to do. Perhaps the distance wouldn’t be so bad after all. Once she started working for NorthStark, she would have the opportunity to visit King’s Landing, where Rhaegar was based—especially if she handled corporate social responsibility and public relations.

This was her last day in the Riverlands. She could always hang out with her siblings and her father once they returned to Winterfell, but for now, she wanted to spend her final hours here with the Lannister twins—and maybe, if she had the chance, give Rhaegar a message or a call.

Remembering Cersei’s teasing words about her wardrobe, she decided to wear something different from her usual college attire—no baggy clothes this time. A casual shirt, jeans, and sneakers would probably be good enough for Cersei, though she could expect a light insult. Lyanna chuckled to herself, remembering how Cersei always loved to ridicule her clothes. She was never offended; she always found it funny how her best friends “mothers” her when it came to her outfits.

That’s actually how their friendship began. When they were kids, they met at a gathering for the same society their families belonged to. Cersei had approached her and bluntly told her that her clothes looked like they belonged in the boys’ locker room. Lyanna, unbothered, replied that she didn’t care what Cersei thought—and then laughed at how obsessed Cersei was with her own outfit. From that odd start, their friendship grew.

In college, Jaime attended North University for one term. They dated briefly, but realized they were better off as friends—they didn’t even kiss, feeling more like siblings. Lyanna’s friendship with Cersei only strengthened her bond with him as well. Despite living far apart, the three of them always managed to keep in touch, their bond remaining as lively and teasing as ever.

Just as Lyanna was about to step out of her room, there was a knock at the door, followed by the familiar voices she knew all too well.

“Lya! Come on, sleepyhead! Breakfast won’t wait forever!” Cersei called, her tone equal parts commanding and teasing.

“Yeah, and we’re not letting you hide up there all alone,” Jaime added, rolling his eyes but grinning.

Lyanna smiled and opened the door, and as expected, the twins were there, ready to drag her out. “Alright, alright, I’m coming,” she said, grabbing her jacket. “But only because you two insist.”

As they made their way to the hotel café, Cersei couldn’t resist giving her a small jab. “I hope you dressed better than yesterday, or I might have to give you a full wardrobe intervention before we even get to breakfast.”

Lyanna laughed. “Relax, Cersei. I’ve got it covered. Shirt, jeans, sneakers. Totally acceptable, right?”

“Barely,” Cersei replied with mock horror. “I suppose we’ll allow it this time.”

Jaime leaned in, smirking. “And how is our favorite little Stark? Still swooning over the Riverlands’ most eligible Targaryen?”

Lyanna blushed faintly but shot back with a sly grin. “Careful, Jaime. You’re walking a thin line between teasing and getting roasted yourself.”

The three of them laughed, settling at a table and diving into breakfast while sharing stories from last night. They gossiped about the ball, Harrenhal, and even Rhaegar’s occasional sharp remarks, laughing at how utterly charming he was—and how utterly exasperating he could be when serious.

Even as they joked and teased, Lyanna felt the warmth of friendship surrounding her. Despite the chaos of the previous day and the anticipation of her parting from Rhaegar, these simple moments grounded her. For now, the laughter and lighthearted banter with her oldest friends were enough.

As the laughter died down, Cersei, ever perceptive, noticed there was something Lyanna hadn’t been telling them. The only way to get it out of her was to be direct.

“So, Lya, what happened? I know you told us some things about the tour and all, but I can feel there’s something else,” Cersei pressed.

Lyanna sighed. She knew this was coming, and much like with her siblings or her father, she couldn’t hide anything from them. The twins were among the most trusted people in her life outside her family, so she decided it was better to just tell them rather than make them guess.

“Well?” Cersei prompted impatiently.

“Alright, I’ll tell you. It’s not like I can hide anything from you two,” Lyanna began. “We had a great day yesterday. Despite the morning debacle, the day went surprisingly well. The highlight was definitely getting to know Rhaegar. Our main concern at that time wasn’t Robert, but Ned. He loves what he does at the Vale, but seeing everything that happened really shook him. He suddenly woke up to what Robert truly is, so decisions will be made there.” She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

“Okayyy…aaaand?” Cersei pressed, leaning forward eagerly.

“Rhaegar, being the gentleman he is, drove me back to the hotel and even walked me to my suite. But when we got there, we were suddenly confronted by a furious and very drunk Robert Baratheon. He started yelling at us and calling me names not even Brandon would use on any woman. Luckily, I was able to give him a piece of my mind, and there were no physical altercations—Brandon and Ned dragged him back to his room. In the end, Rhaegar contacted his parents, got security involved, and had Robert sent back to Storm’s End that evening.”

“Hot damn, Lya! You had one hell of a day!” Jaime exclaimed, disbelief written all over his face.

Lyanna let out a tired laugh, rubbing her temples. “You have no idea. It was… exhausting, and honestly, I’m just glad it’s over. I don’t think I’ve ever dealt with anyone like Robert before. It was ridiculous.”

Cersei nodded, her expression softening. “I can imagine. You handled it well, Lya. Braver than I could’ve been in your place.”

Jaime shook his head in awe. “Seriously. I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if you weren’t there to put him in his place.”

Lyanna smiled faintly, the weight of the previous night still lingering. “Thanks, both of you. It means a lot.”

After a brief pause, Cersei smirked knowingly. “So, this Rhaegar… he really drove you back and walked you to your suite, huh? Sounds like someone’s impressed.”

Lyanna rolled her eyes, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “Cersei, don’t. He’s just… polite and responsible, that’s all. Nothing more.”

“Uh-huh,” Jaime said, grinning. “Sure, Lya. Polite and responsible… and yet he had the luxury of being your chauffeur for the night. Sounds dangerously close to ‘Prince Charming.’”

Lyanna laughed, swatting his arm playfully. “You two are impossible!”

Cersei leaned back, crossing her arms with a teasing smile. “Well, amidst all the chaos yesterday, I’m curious… tell us, Lyanna. How’s this Rhaegar guy of yours? The polite, responsible, Prince Charming type?”

Lyanna groaned, hiding her smile. “Cersei! Jaime! He’s just… polite and responsible, that’s all. Nothing more.”

Just as Lyanna tried to defend herself, her phone buzzed lightly on the table. She glanced down and saw a message from Rhaegar:

“I hear you’re having breakfast with the twins. I’d love to see you at some point today before you leave tomorrow, if you have a moment.”

Cersei raised an eyebrow knowingly, and Jaime’s grin widened. “Well, well… looks like Prince Charming himself is making an appearance. Careful, Lya, you might have to behave.”

Lyanna let out a small laugh, her cheeks warming. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave… but only a little.”

Jaime leaned back, teasing further. “Just don’t tell me he’s bringing flowers. I don’t think Riverlands has seen that much chivalry since the last Targaryen wedding.”

“Shut up, Jaime!” Lyanna protested, swatting his arm again. She couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips, a mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in her stomach.

Cersei smirked, settling back in her chair. “Don’t worry, Lya. Just enjoy it. Two days in the Riverlands, and your heart’s already in trouble, huh?”

Lyanna shook her head with a soft laugh, glancing at her phone again. “I just… I guess I wasn’t expecting any of this. But I’m glad he cares enough to check in. I just hope I don’t embarrass myself.”

Jaime and Cersei exchanged a knowing look. “Too late for that,” Jaime muttered with a chuckle.

The three of them laughed, the tension from the previous night slowly melting away. Lyanna felt the warmth of friendship around her and, for the first time that morning, let herself feel a little lighter. And somewhere between the laughter and teasing, she couldn’t help but look forward to seeing Rhaegar—just a little.

A little while later, as Lyanna and the twins were finishing their second cup of coffee and debating whether to sneak in some pastries from the buffet, Rhaegar appeared near the entrance of the café. He scanned the room calmly, his familiar warm smile settling on Lyanna.

“Good morning,” he greeted softly, walking over, careful not to disturb the other patrons.

Lyanna’s stomach flipped, and she quickly straightened in her seat. “Good morning, Rhaegar,” she replied, trying to sound casual.

Jaime grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Well, well… look who decided to join the party. Didn’t think you’d get a breakfast pass without me teasing you, did you?”

Cersei smirked, sipping her coffee. “Yes, we need to make sure our friend here is keeping Lyanna in line—or at least, treating her politely.”

Rhaegar chuckled, glancing at Lyanna. “I assure you, Cersei, Jaime, my intentions are honorable.”

Lyanna rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “You’re just… polite and responsible, that’s all,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Uh-huh,” Jaime said knowingly. “Polite and responsible, yet here you are, joining her breakfast. Sounds dangerously close to ‘Prince Charming.’”

Rhaegar smiled softly, turning his gaze back to Lyanna. “I promised I’d see you today,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to break that promise.”

Lyanna’s heart softened. “I’m glad you didn’t,” she whispered.

Cersei leaned back, smirking. “See, Jaime? Some things are just meant to be. Now, don’t embarrass her too much, Rhaegar.”

Jaime laughed, raising his coffee cup in mock salute. “Yes, behave, Prince Charming. We’re all counting on it.”

Rhaegar’s gaze lingered on Lyanna a moment longer, and she felt a warmth spreading in her chest. Today, amidst the teasing, laughter, and calm presence of someone she admired, it felt like the start of something meaningful—and she wasn’t rushing it.

The twins chatted and laughed, occasionally nudging Lyanna with teasing remarks, but gradually, they let her and Rhaegar settle into a corner of the café where they could speak more privately.

“So…” Rhaegar began, lowering his voice just enough to be intimate but polite, “how are you feeling after everything yesterday?”

Lyanna took a small sip of her coffee, her gaze wandering to the sunlight spilling across the table. “Exhausted, mostly,” she admitted with a faint smile. “But… relieved too. It was overwhelming, but I think things are… finally clear.”

Rhaegar nodded thoughtfully. “I’m glad. You handled everything remarkably well yesterday. Robert… was unpleasant, to say the least.”

She let out a short, tired laugh. “Unpleasant doesn’t even cover it. I’ve never met anyone so… infuriating. And yet, I didn’t feel afraid. I had you, and my family, so…” She trailed off, unsure how to put it into words.

Rhaegar reached for her hand lightly, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. “I’m glad I could be there. And you—you surprised me, Lya. Calm, strong, witty… even in the chaos.”

A blush crept up her cheeks, and she looked down, fumbling slightly with her coffee cup. “You make it sound like I’m braver than I feel.”

“You are,” he said simply, his indigo eyes meeting hers. “And you don’t need to rush any decisions. Take your time. That’s what I want—what you want.”

Just then, Jaime leaned over with a smirk. “So… are you two plotting world domination over coffee, or is this just the polite version of flirting?”

Cersei rolled her eyes but grinned. “Ignore him, Lya. We just want to make sure Rhaegar isn’t being too ‘polite and responsible’ around you.”

Lyanna laughed, swatting at her brother’s arm. “You two are impossible.”

Rhaegar chuckled, though he didn’t take his eyes off Lyanna. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, “I’ll behave. I promise.”

And for a few moments, amid the twins’ playful teasing and the warm sunlight of the café, Lyanna felt that rare, contented calm—like the world had slowed down just enough for her to breathe, laugh, and be herself.

It was almost lunchtime when the twins finally said their goodbyes, with Cersei giving her parting reminder.

“Lya, I know the past few days have been… eventful. Just remember, Jaime and I have your back. I’ve already talked to my father about Robert Baratheon. His father has been trying to get in touch with my dad for business and whatnot. We’re not doing this just for you—though of course we are—but also for the good of our family. And I’m sure the Targaryens will help as well,” Cersei said, giving Rhaegar a brief, pointed glance.

“For sure,” Rhaegar replied calmly. “My parents are already on their way to Storm’s End. My father’s giving them an ultimatum.”

“Good,” Jaime said, smirking. “Alright, Lya, we’ll see you again soon. And if my boss,” he added with a mischievous grin, “allows me some time off, I might just video call you from Casterly Rock. I’ll make sure my sister is properly warned about how much fun you’ve been having.”

Cersei chuckled, turning to Rhaegar with a playful gleam in her eye. “And Rhaegar… don’t let my best friend get into trouble while we’re not around. Just keep her out of anything too… chaotic, understood?”

Rhaegar raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Understood. I’ll keep everything under control.”

“Well, it was so good seeing you both again. Don’t forget to video call me when you’re back at Casterly Rock,” Lyanna said, a touch wistful at parting with her friends.

The twins hugged her tightly, sharing a few last jokes and reassurances, before finally waving goodbye and heading out.

Rhaegar stood for a moment, watching them leave, slightly amused. He shook his head and smiled to himself. “The Lannisters really do know how to make their presence felt,” he murmured. He let out a quiet chuckle, feeling a strange mix of admiration and mild exasperation at the twins’ protective antics. “I suppose I better be ready for anything with these two in her life.”

As the echoes of the twins’ laughter faded down the hall, Rhaegar turned back to Lyanna, who was still smiling faintly, a little lighter now that her friends had gone.

“So,” he began, “now that you’re free from the Lannister surveillance for a while… what do you want to do? Lunch, walk in the gardens, or perhaps just sit and relax somewhere quiet?”

Lyanna chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I think after all that excitement, a little quiet sounds perfect. Maybe we can find a spot to sit and just… talk. No chaos, no shouting, no unexpected Baratheons.”

Rhaegar’s indigo eyes twinkled. “Agreed. I think I can manage a calm conversation without anyone trying to start a duel nearby.”

Lyanna laughed. “Although I’m sure the twins would call me later, just to make sure you’re behaving yourself.”

Rhaegar smirked. “Oh, I have no doubt. I can almost hear Cersei’s voice now—‘Rhaegar Targaryen, do not let my best friend get into trouble!’”

Lyanna shook her head, grinning. “Exactly. And Jaime would probably add something about making sure I wear my warmest boots for the snow back home—he loves teasing me.”

They walked toward a quieter corner of the hotel’s garden terrace, where the sunlight streamed gently through the trees. Lyanna inhaled the fresh air, feeling the tension of the past few days slowly ease. Rhaegar fell into step beside her, his presence steady and comforting.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “it’s strange… all the chaos, all the surprises, and yet… somehow, sitting here now, it feels like everything’s exactly where it’s supposed to be.”

Rhaegar smiled, glancing down at her. “I know the feeling. And I promise, Lya… for today at least, nothing will disturb it.”

For the first time in what felt like days, Lyanna allowed herself to truly relax, sharing laughter and quiet conversation with Rhaegar, letting the world fade around them.

Rhaegar and Lyanna settled onto a quiet bench in the hotel garden, the late morning sun warming the terrace.

“So… after all that excitement yesterday, what’s next for you, Lya? Back to Winterfell tomorrow, right?” Rhaegar asked, leaning back casually.

Lyanna nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes. But I’ll be busy once I return. NorthStark has projects that need attention, and I want to make a good impression.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so no time for sneaking off to the south to see me, then?”

“Perhaps not right away,” she admitted with a smile. “Though I suppose my work might bring me to King’s Landing eventually… and you’ll be there, won’t you?”

Rhaegar’s lips curved in a faint, knowing smile. “Yes. And if you ever need guidance—or someone to show you around—I’ll gladly volunteer.”

Lyanna chuckled, shaking her head. “You make it sound like you’re just offering directions.”

“Maybe I am,” he said lightly, though the warmth in his tone betrayed him. “But I hope it’s more than that. There’s… a lot I’d like to know about you, Lya.”

She looked at him thoughtfully, then smiled softly. “I think we’ll find a way. Even with distance, there’s time to learn about each other. And I want to.”

Rhaegar’s expression softened, just a hint of vulnerability showing. “Then I’ll wait. Whatever pace you need. I just… I want to make sure you have the choice, always.”

Lyanna nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. “I know, Rhaegar. And I appreciate that more than you realize.”

Rhaegar leaned back, smirking slightly. “Just don’t make me wait too long, Lya. I might start sending ravens with slightly dramatic threats.”

Lyanna laughed, nudging him lightly. “Ravens, huh? I’ll be expecting a few with very expressive wing gestures, then.”

Rhaegar grinned. “Oh, you have no idea. By the time I’m done, the maesters will be questioning their careers.”

Lyanna shook her head, still smiling. “I suppose this means I’ll be getting more than just one letter from you when I’m back in Winterfell.”

“Absolutely,” Rhaegar replied, his tone softening. “And who knows… maybe one day you’ll find a reason to come see me before the raven even arrives.”

Lyanna’s smile faltered just slightly, a mix of amusement and something warmer. “We’ll see, Rhaegar. We’ll see.”

Rhaegar chuckled softly, though a hint of melancholy tugged at him. The thought that he would soon be returning to King’s Landing while Lyanna went back to Winterfell made him contemplative.

“What time do you guys leave tomorrow?” he asked.

“After lunch, I believe. So we should be home by the afternoon,” Lyanna replied.

“So there’s still time,” Rhaegar said, a small smile forming. “I’d love to see you in the morning, if that’s alright?”

“I think that would be nice,” she said, her own smile brightening. “I usually wake up early… except today, after all the excitement yesterday. Want to have breakfast together?”

“Breakfast would be lovely,” Rhaegar replied. “Shall I meet you here at the hotel café, or would you like to go somewhere else? I can pick you up if you like.”

Lyanna smirked. “The hotel cafe is fine. Just don’t get any ideas about making me late for a lecture or trying to charm your way into my homework, Prince Charming.”

Rhaegar laughed, the sound warm and easy. “No promises, Lya. But I’ll try my best to behave… mostly.”

Rhaegar chuckled, glancing out the window for a moment. “Well, I suppose we’ll make the most of tomorrow morning… before reality drags us back to our corners of Westeros.”

Lyanna nodded, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Yes… let’s make it a morning worth remembering.” 

After breakfast with the Lannisters and Rhaegar, Lyanna decided to check on her father—and maybe her brothers, too. As she walked down the hall toward her father’s door, laughter drifted from inside. She knocked softly, and the door immediately opened to reveal Benjen.

“Lya! You’re finally back! Dad’s in the dining room, and we’re trying to decide what to have for lunch,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

Lyanna followed him, taking in the scene before her. A wide smile spread across her face—seeing her family together, laughing and smiling, filled her with a warmth she hadn’t realized she’d missed. It was strange, yet delightful, to see Ned laughing at something; he was usually so serious, though always considerate and kind.

Rickard looked up as Lyanna approached, his eyes softening. “There’s my girl. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Much better,” Lyanna replied, sliding into the seat beside him. “It’s been a busy few days, but I think I’m ready to head home tomorrow.”

Brandon grinned, nudging Ned. “Finally, some peace and quiet, eh? Though I have to admit, it won’t be the same without all the chaos you stirred up yesterday.”

Ned chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “She handled it better than I would’ve expected. Robert Baratheon really has no idea what he’s dealing with.”

Lyanna rolled her eyes, smiling. “Believe me, it was ridiculous. I just—well, I’m glad it’s over. And I couldn’t have done it without Rhaegar, or you and Brandon stepping in when needed.”

Rickard nodded, pride evident in his gaze. “I’m glad he was there. And I’m glad you kept your head, Lya. That’s my daughter, clever and brave.”

Brandon leaned back in his chair, smirking. “So… Lyanna, I saw you yesterday. You spent quite some time with this Rhaegar, huh? Did he behave himself, or are we talking disaster in a crown?”

Lyanna felt her cheeks warm slightly but kept her composure. “Brandon! Really, you’re impossible. He… handled everything properly. That’s all you need to know.”

Brandon grinned wider, leaning forward. “Handled everything properly, huh? Let me guess—he charmed you, probably said all the right things, didn’t spill anything, didn’t trip over his own feet?”

Lyanna rolled her eyes, hiding a laugh. “Well, he’s competent. That’s all I’m saying.”

Brandon smirked knowingly. “Competent, eh? Dangerous word when we’re talking about someone like him. You do understand that Rhaegar is my best friend right? Don’t tell me you’ve got him wrapped around your finger already.”

Rickard chuckled, leaning on the back of his chair, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Lyanna, you do realize you’re going to have to tell me if Rhaegar is as charming as you make him sound? Or do I have to interrogate him personally?”

Lyanna laughed softly, shaking her head. “Father! It’s not like that. He’s polite, responsible… a good man. Nothing more for now.”

Rickard raised an eyebrow, smiling slyly. “‘Nothing more for now,’ you say. That ‘for now’ sounds awfully suspicious, little wolf.”

Ned, sitting quietly across the table, let out a small chuckle. “Some things never change, do they?”

Brandon leaned back, smirking again. “Ah, but don’t think we won’t keep our eyes open. If anyone tries to sweep you off your feet too fast, they’ll have me to answer to.”

Lyanna shook her head, laughing, but felt a warmth at the thought that her family cared so fiercely. “Noted, Brandon. You can add me to the list of people who’ll keep me grounded too.”

Rickard leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “So… tell me, Lya. Any interesting stories from your ‘adventures’ with the prince? I won’t bite… much.”

Lyanna paused, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Father! Really, I’m just getting to know him. That’s all. But… yes, there are a few things that might make you raise an eyebrow.”

Brandon grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Ah, that’s what I like to hear. Keep us entertained, little wolf. I promise, we won’t judge too harshly… at least not until dessert.”

Lyanna smiled at her family, the warmth of their laughter filling the hall. Even with Brandon’s relentless teasing and Rickard’s curious questions, her thoughts kept drifting back to Rhaegar—the way he had looked at her, the quiet strength in his voice, and the careful consideration in every word. Tomorrow she would return to Winterfell, but for now, she let herself savor these moments with her family, carrying with her the gentle anticipation of seeing Rhaegar once more before parting ways. 

The final few hours in the Riverlands had arrived. Lyanna woke up early, eager to have breakfast with Rhaegar and to spend her remaining time here with him. She wanted to make the most of every moment, yet a quiet sadness lingered in her chest—she didn’t know when she would see him again. Still, she tried to think positively, convincing herself that perhaps the distance would do them good.

Lyanna arrived at the hotel café just as it was opening, the soft morning light streaming through the tall windows. Rhaegar was already there, seated at a small corner table, a cup of steaming tea in front of him. He looked up as she approached, and a small, warm smile curved his lips.

“Good morning,” he greeted, standing just enough to offer her a polite nod. “I hope I’m not keeping you from too much sleep.”

Lyanna shook her head, settling into the chair across from him. “No, I needed to wake up early anyway… I wanted to make the most of our last few hours here.”

Rhaegar’s gaze softened, and he reached across the table, brushing a hand lightly over hers. “I’m glad you’re here. I was hoping we could enjoy some quiet before you leave.”

They ordered breakfast, but the conversation flowed effortlessly, moving from light teasing about the hotel’s pastries to recollections of the day before. Lyanna laughed at some of Rhaegar’s witty observations, feeling the tension from the previous night ease into something comforting.

At one point, he leaned back slightly, his eyes thoughtful. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Knowing this will be our last morning together for a while.”

Lyanna nodded, a wistful smile on her face. “Yes. I want to make it count. Even if it’s just a few hours, I want to remember everything.”

Rhaegar gave a quiet chuckle. “Then let’s make it a morning worth remembering.”

They lingered over their meal, speaking less and simply enjoying each other’s presence at times, until the inevitable parting loomed on the horizon.

When breakfast ended, Rhaegar stood and offered his hand. “Shall we?”

Lyanna took it, feeling the warmth of his grip, a quiet reassurance rather than a claim. They walked through the hotel quietly, side by side, the morning light streaming in from the windows. Most of the conversation had already been shared over breakfast, so now the silence was comfortable—soft glances, occasional smiles, and the light brush of hands.

At the elevator, Rhaegar turned slightly to her, his expression thoughtful. “I wish we had more time.”

Lyanna’s chest tightened. “Me too… but maybe a little distance will help us think. At least we know we’ll stay in touch.”

“Of course,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly over hers in a careful, tentative gesture. “And Lyanna… just promise me you won’t overthink it. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

She nodded, meeting his gaze, aware of the unspoken possibilities. “I’ll try.”

When the elevator doors opened to her floor, she took a small step back. “This is me… for now,” she said softly.

He gave a quiet smile, leaning slightly to brush his forehead against hers in a gentle, fleeting touch. “Take care, Lyanna. Think of this morning fondly.”

She returned his smile and stepped off, walking toward her suite. As the elevator doors closed, she carried the memory of their last few hours together, the Riverlands fading behind her, along with a quiet hope for what the future might hold.

Lyanna reached her suite and leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a soft sigh. The morning had been simple, yet meaningful—quiet laughter, shared glances, and the gentle reassurance of someone who cared. She knew the goodbye was temporary, but it left a bittersweet ache she couldn’t ignore. Sitting by the window, she gazed out at the Riverlands one last time, committing every detail—the sunlight on the rolling hills, the distant chatter of the town, the memory of Rhaegar’s smile—to heart. Whatever awaited her in Winterfell, she carried the warmth of this morning with her, a quiet reminder that some connections, no matter the distance, were worth holding onto.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: In Our Own Corners of Westeros

King’s Landing

It was around one in the afternoon when Rhaegar finally arrived at the family home in King’s Landing. He was exhausted from the travel, grateful that he had his driver take the wheel for most of the journey. Despite his fatigue, he didn’t regret a single moment spent in the Riverlands. Seeing his best friends again had been wonderful—but meeting Lyanna Stark, getting to know her, had been the highlight of his trip. He could hardly believe his luck that Brandon had practically given him his blessing to court her, and that her parents had shown such support. For once, he didn’t have to contend with the usual pressure from his own parents, who often mentioned Elia in casual conversation. He was relieved that this chapter was over.

Thoughts of Lyanna had lingered with him since the night they met. As much as he wanted to call her—or even video call—he knew he desperately needed rest. All he wanted was a shower, his bed, and a good night’s sleep. So instead, he sent her a simple message:

“Finally home. I am so tired from the drive. I would love to call you, but sleep is calling me. Let me know what time you’re free tomorrow, so I can call. Enjoy your day. :-) - RT”

Entering his home, the stillness welcomed him. Normally, he would hear Viserys running about or making some noise in the halls. Asking the butler about the others, he learned that his parents had taken his siblings out for a little lunch and shopping. He instructed the butler not to disturb him until the next day. By the time he reached his bed, exhaustion claimed him immediately.

The next morning, he followed his usual routine. By breakfast, he found his parents and younger brother already seated and eating. As always, he approached his mother first, greeting his father and Viserys along the way.

“So, son,” Aerys said, lowering his newspaper, “how did things end in the Riverlands?”

“Uneventful. I’m glad I was able to put Robert on the next flight to Storm’s End. Nothing untoward happened after that. Business-wise, Dragonstone Hotel is running smoothly. No complaints from our customers or employees, except for some minor issues we managed to resolve,” Rhaegar replied.

“That’s good to hear. You’re handling the hotels and airline very well—I’m proud of you, son. Now all that’s left is for you to get married so your mother and I can finally retire. And Viserys can finish school faster so he can start helping you,” his father added, smirking and winking at his mother.

Rhaegar rolled his eyes at his father’s not-so-subtle hints about settling down. Chuckling, he decided to tease back.

“I’m working on it. At least the marrying part… though I don’t think it’ll happen for a few years,” he said with a smirk.

His mother laughed. “Oh, darling! You’ve learned to hold your own with your father. Clever, my love. Now, because I’m your mother and I must know everything—what’s the update on you and Lyanna?”

“Does Rhaegar have a girlfriend now?” Viserys asked, curiosity bright in his eyes.

Aerys burst out laughing at his youngest son’s question. “Son, if your brother had the courage to be as brave as you are, he would have arrived today already married!” He chuckled heartily.

Rhaegar leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Well, Mother, you know I’m not one to make hasty decisions.” He shot a pointed glance at Viserys, who looked both curious and smug for asking first. “But yes… I have been spending time with someone in the Riverlands. Her name is Lyanna Stark.”

Aerys raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a grin. “Ah, Lyanna Stark. I remember meeting her as a child, and it seems she’s grown into quite the formidable young woman. Tell us everything, Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar chuckled, glancing briefly toward the window as if imagining the Riverlands. “Everything? Well… she’s clever, independent, and… well, she has a way of making the ordinary feel… extraordinary.” He paused, realizing he had drifted into thought, staring momentarily at nothing.

Viserys noticed immediately. “Hmm… seems someone is distracted,” he said with a smirk.

Rhaegar shook his head, clearing it with a small laugh. “Perhaps. It’s just… I can’t help thinking about how thoughtful and strong she is. And, Mother, Father… she’s not at all intimidated by me.”

Aerys exchanged a knowing look with Rhaella. “I see it in your eyes, Rhaegar. You’re smitten, aren’t you?”

Rhaegar’s cheeks tinged with a faint color, and he gave a sheepish grin. “I… I’m leaning toward admiration, yes. But it’s nothing reckless. I’m simply… considering what’s important.”

His parents shared a small, approving smile, while Viserys continued to smirk, clearly entertained by his elder brother’s rare vulnerability.

Rhaegar’s phone buzzed gently beside him at breakfast, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced down to see a message from Lyanna:

“Good morning, Rhaegar! I hope you slept well after your long drive last night. I’ve been thinking about yesterday… it was quite the eventful day. Let me know when you’re free later so we can call or video chat. :-) - LS”

He let out a quiet chuckle, the memory of their last few hours in Riverlands creeping back into his mind—the laughter, the quiet moments, the fleeting glances. Even in a simple morning message, her warmth and thoughtfulness reached him.

Rhaella, noticing his faraway expression, arched an eyebrow. “Rhaegar, you seem… unusually distracted this morning. Something—or someone—on your mind?”

Rhaegar gave a small smile, shooting a pointed glance at Viserys, who was already looking curious. “Just… thinking about Lyanna Stark and our time in the Riverlands the other day. She’s… left quite an impression.”

Aerys chuckled knowingly. “Ah, yes. We can see it on your face. Careful, son—you might be daydreaming yourself into more than admiration.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Next thing we know, you’ll be writing songs about her again. The great Rhaegar Targaryen—lover, poet, and part-time rockstar.”

Rhaegar rolled his eyes, though a laugh escaped him. “You make it sound like a crime to appreciate good company.”

“Company?” Viserys scoffed, grinning. “Please, you’ve been smiling at your phone for five minutes straight. That’s not ‘company,’ that’s inspiration.”

Even his mother chuckled softly at that, her eyes filled with amusement. Rhaegar could only shake his head, trying—and failing—to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips.

The teasing went on for a few more minutes, laughter filling the dining room until conversation drifted toward lighter topics. Rhaegar let them talk, content to listen as his thoughts quietly wandered back to Lyanna. He didn’t say much after that, but the faint, knowing smiles from his parents told him they already understood. By the time breakfast ended, one thing was certain—no matter how far apart they were in Westeros, Lyanna Stark was still very much on his mind.

After breakfast, Rhaegar retreated to his study—a quiet, sunlit room overlooking the gardens. The soft hum of the city beyond the windows was faint and distant. He placed his tea on the desk, opened his phone, and reread the message Lyanna had sent earlier that morning.

Lyanna: Good morning, Rhaegar! I hope you slept well after your long drive last night. I’ve been thinking about yesterday… it was quite the eventful day. Let me know when you’re free later so we can call or video chat. :-)

A faint smile curved his lips. Even through text, her words carried that effortless warmth that never failed to lighten his mood. It had only been two days since they’d last seen each other, yet it already felt longer.

He typed back, fingers pausing briefly as he considered his tone—casual but sincere, just enough to let her know she’d been on his mind too.

Rhaegar: Good morning, Lyanna. I slept well, though I can’t say I didn’t miss the Riverlands already. The other day feels farther away than it should. I’ve been thinking about you.

It didn’t take long before her reply appeared on screen.

Lyanna: Missed the Riverlands or missed the people you were with?

He chuckled softly. He could almost imagine her smirk as she typed that.

Rhaegar: You, mainly. But if I say that too soon, I might ruin my reputation for being composed.

Lyanna: Oh? And what kind of reputation is that? Calm, collected, mysterious prince of King’s Landing?

Rhaegar: Something along those lines. I do have a reputation to maintain, you know.

Lyanna: You mean the one that comes with pianos, guitars, poetry, and being slightly too philosophical for your own good?

Rhaegar laughed out loud this time, shaking his head.

Rhaegar: You’ve been talking to Brandon, haven’t you?

Lyanna: Maybe. He may have mentioned something about your “tragic musician” era back in college.

Rhaegar: That was not an era. That was an artistic phase. There’s a difference.

Lyanna: Sure, sure. “Artistic phase.” I bet you even wrote songs about heartbreak before you ever experienced one.

He smiled, tapping the screen slowly before replying.

Rhaegar: That’s because I was waiting for the right muse.

There was a longer pause this time. He wondered if he’d pushed it too far—but then her reply came through.

Lyanna: Careful, Rhaegar. You’re starting to sound like you’re about to serenade me.

Rhaegar: Maybe one day. But for now, I’ll settle for that call later. Four sounds good?

Lyanna: Yes, four is perfect. I’ll make sure to have decent signal—and maybe coffee, so I don’t sound half-asleep.

Rhaegar: Then it’s a date—well, a virtual one, at least.

Lyanna: A “virtual” one? Look at you trying to modernize the romance.

Rhaegar: Adaptability is a skill, Lady Stark.

Her typing bubble appeared again, paused for a while, then disappeared. He waited, smiling faintly to himself.

Lyanna: You’re impossible, Rhaegar.

Rhaegar: And yet, you’re still texting me.

Lyanna: Don’t push your luck.

He laughed softly to himself, locking his phone. Despite the teasing, the warmth lingered—the kind that made the walls of his study feel less empty. He leaned back in his chair, staring out at the view of King’s Landing, feeling something he hadn’t in a long time—contentment.

Winterfell

It was almost four in the afternoon when their plane finally landed at North Airport, with another thirty-minute drive ahead before reaching Winterfell. Lyanna had been quiet for most of the flight. She wasn’t in the mood to banter with her brothers; exhaustion had finally caught up to her after everything that happened in the Riverlands. All she wanted now was to crawl into her own bed and sleep for hours.

She had tried to feign sleep during the flight—or even truly rest—but her mind refused to cooperate. It kept drifting back to the Riverlands, to the quiet charm and sharp wit of Rhaegar Targaryen, the solemn prince of the Iron Throne Conglomerate. There was something about him that made her want to dive in headfirst, consequences be damned.

He was witty, calm, intelligent, considerate, kind, respectful—and polite. Remembering the way his indigo eyes seemed to see right through her made her feel almost childish, like a schoolgirl nursing a crush on the star athlete. They shared the same fascination for history and architecture, and she found herself drawn to his depth of knowledge. Imagine what other stories he knows, she mused with a faint smile.

By the time they arrived home, the first thing she did was give her father a quick kiss on the cheek and tell her brothers that she was turning in early. “I need a full rest,” she told them with a small smile. “Please don’t disturb me.”

When Lyanna reached her room, the familiar scent of pine and fresh linen greeted her. Everything was exactly as she had left it—neat, minimal, but warm. She placed her luggage by the door and sat on the edge of her bed, exhaling deeply. For the first time in days, she could finally be still.

The North had always grounded her. There was a peace here that she could never quite find anywhere else. Yet, despite the comfort of home, her thoughts kept slipping south—to the Riverlands, to him.

She lay back against the pillows, staring up at the wooden beams above her. The memories replayed in her mind like a soft melody—their long talks, the quiet smiles, the way his voice sounded when he said her name. She hadn’t meant to let anyone in so soon, especially not someone like Rhaegar Targaryen, but somehow, he’d managed to slip past her guard with ease.

A faint smile touched her lips. “You’re ridiculous, Lyanna,” she murmured to herself, half-amused, half-exasperated. “It’s not even a full day yet.”

Still, she couldn’t shake the warmth that bloomed in her chest at the thought of him. Maybe it was just the afterglow of everything that had happened—the chaos, the laughter, the goodbyes. Or maybe… it was something else.

She sighed softly, pulling the blanket over herself. The last thing she remembered before sleep claimed her was the sound of the northern wind outside her window—and the quiet echo of his laughter in her memory.

The next morning…

The pale northern sunlight streamed through the wide glass windows of Winterfell Manor, illuminating the familiar blend of modern design and rustic heritage — polished stone floors, reclaimed wood beams, and old Stark family portraits lining the hallway outside her room.

Lyanna stirred beneath the thick gray duvet, still wrapped in the heavy calm of travel fatigue. Her body was home, but her thoughts… were still somewhere in the Riverlands. Every time she closed her eyes, flashes of the past few days returned — the laughter shared in the garden, the quiet conversations by the balcony, and the way Rhaegar Targaryen’s voice lingered in her head long after he’d stopped speaking.

She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The world outside her window looked exactly as it always did — the tall pines bowing to the wind, the courtyard glistening faintly from early frost, and the faint hum of cars coming in and out of the main gate. Everything was steady, predictable, comfortable. And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had quietly shifted inside her.

By the time she came down for breakfast, her father was already at the head of the table, reading through documents while his coffee sat untouched. Her brothers were halfway through their meal — Brandon scrolling through his phone, Benjen absently tapping his spoon against his mug.

“Morning,” she greeted softly, taking her usual seat.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Brandon teased without looking up. “Didn’t think we’d see you before lunch.”

“Long trip,” she replied with a shrug, pouring herself some coffee. “I needed the rest.”

Rickard finally looked up from his papers, studying her quietly for a moment before nodding. “You’ve had a full week. Take it easy today. You don’t have to go into the office until you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Papa,” she said, offering a faint smile.

The rest of breakfast went by in comfortable silence. Occasionally, Brandon would mention a business update, Benjen would crack a dry joke, and their father would respond with a small smile. But Lyanna barely spoke. Her thoughts kept drifting — to a quiet café, to laughter under soft yellow lights, to someone who looked at her like she was the only person in the room.

When she returned to her room, she found herself instinctively reaching for her phone. The screen was still blank — no new messages. She stared at it for a moment, biting her lip as if willing it to light up.

“He’s probably busy,” she murmured to herself, placing it face down on her desk.

But the quiet didn’t help. She moved to her window and watched the northern woods sway under the cold breeze. It should’ve been peaceful. It usually was.

This time, though, she couldn’t stop thinking about the Riverlands — and the man who somehow made the distance between them feel heavier than it really was.

The late morning sun had finally broken through the northern clouds when Lyanna decided to step outside. She needed air — not the kind that came through open windows, but the kind that carried the scent of pine, grass, and earth.

Down at the stables, her favorite mare, Frost, was waiting. The gray mare flicked her ears as Lyanna approached, as if sensing her restlessness.

“Hey there, girl,” she murmured, running a hand through the horse’s silvery mane. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Let’s go for a little ride.”

The stable hand offered a polite nod as he helped her saddle up, but Lyanna waved him off when he offered to come along. “No need. I’ll just ride around the estate for a bit.”

Within minutes, she was trotting past the wide fields that stretched beyond Winterfell’s main house. The familiar rhythm of Frost’s hooves against the dirt road was comforting — steady, grounding. The cold air brushed her cheeks as she guided the mare toward the open hills, where the wind always seemed freer.

Up here, the world was quiet. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves and the soft snort of her horse. For the first time since they left the Riverlands, Lyanna felt she could finally think.

She will be starting a new position at NorthStark Property Development Corp — one that came with more responsibility, more travel, and the promise of working closely with their expansion projects in the southern branches. Her father had mentioned it briefly before their trip, and she knew he would bring it up again soon. It was everything she’d worked for — and yet, part of her hesitated.

She slowed Frost to a walk, staring out at the horizon where the rolling hills met the cloudy sky. “What do I even want?” she whispered to herself. “To stay here… or to go where things are uncertain but alive?”

Her mind flicked to Rhaegar — to the conversations they’d shared about purpose and legacy. He had spoken with such quiet conviction about his family’s business, about making things better rather than just keeping them running. She admired that in him. It made her wonder if she could be brave enough to do the same — to choose something that truly moved her.

She smiled faintly at the thought. “You’re getting into my head again, Rhaegar Targaryen,” she said softly, giving Frost’s neck a gentle pat.

The mare snorted as if in agreement, and Lyanna laughed — a sound carried off by the wind. For a brief moment, it felt like she could breathe again. No noise, no pressure, no expectations. Just her, the open air, and the quiet rhythm of the North.

As she turned Frost back toward the manor, the weight on her shoulders felt a little lighter. She wasn’t sure what the next days would bring — for her career, for her family, or even for whatever this was between her and Rhaegar — but for now, she knew one thing: she wanted to move forward, wherever that path may lead.

As Frost’s hooves crunched softly over the gravel path leading back to the stables, Lyanna could already see the faint wisp of chimney smoke rising from the manor. Lunch would be soon. The thought of it — of Benjen’s teasing or her father’s quiet questions about her “future plans” — made her chest tighten, though not unpleasantly. It was the sort of familiar tension that came with being home.

She dismounted and gave Frost’s muzzle a fond stroke. “You always listen better than most people,” she murmured. The mare nudged her shoulder as if in reply, and Lyanna smiled, her breath clouding faintly in the northern chill.

As she stepped into the courtyard, she caught sight of Ned crossing from the garage toward the main house, phone in hand, his expression focused. He paused when he noticed her, a faint grin breaking through his usual reserve.

“Out riding again?” he asked. “You’ll give the stable hands a heart attack disappearing like that.”

“I was just clearing my head,” Lyanna replied, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “It worked.”

“Good,” Ned said simply, though his tone carried that quiet brotherly curiosity that meant we’ll talk later. He nodded toward the house. “Lunch in ten. Father’s asking about the southern project again.”

Lyanna sighed but nodded, watching him disappear through the glass doors. The moment lingered — that small, ordinary space between solitude and duty — and she took it as one last breath before stepping back inside.

The warmth of Winterfell’s interior greeted her instantly: the low hum of conversation from the dining hall, the smell of roasted vegetables, and the faint echo of Benjen’s laughter somewhere down the hall.

For now, she decided, that was enough. The questions about her future could wait a little longer.

As Lyanna walked back toward the manor, the faint scent of pine still clung to her hair and coat. The warmth that greeted her inside was a gentle contrast to the biting wind outside — the low murmur of staff, the faint crackle of the hearth, and the comforting hum of home.

She slipped off her boots by the door, brushed a few strands of hair from her face, and climbed the staircase quietly. Her muscles ached pleasantly from the ride, but her mind felt clearer than it had in days. The North always had a way of grounding her — reminding her of who she was, even when the rest of the world tried to pull her somewhere else.

In her room, the afternoon light spilled softly across her desk. She sat down, pulling her phone closer. The screen blinked to life, revealing a single unread message — one from yesterday afternoon.

Rhaegar Targaryen.

Finally home. I am so tired from the drive. I would love to call you, but sleep is calling me. Let me know what time you’re free tomorrow, so I can call. Enjoy your day. :-)

The sight of his name stirred something warm in her chest. She could picture him — exhausted but still taking the time to message her before bed. A small, involuntary smile curved her lips.

She thought of their last day together in the Riverlands — the laughter, the quiet moments that lingered in her mind longer than they should have. And now, seeing his message, it all came rushing back.

Her fingers hovered above the keyboard for a moment before she began to type.

Good morning, Rhaegar! I hope you slept well after your long drive last night. I’ve been thinking about yesterday… it was quite the eventful day. Let me know when you’re free later so we can call or video chat. :-)

She read it over once, twice — just enough to make sure it didn’t sound too eager — and hit send.

For a moment, she simply stared at the screen, waiting. There was no immediate reply, of course. But that didn’t matter. The simple act of sending it — of reaching out — filled the quiet room with a different kind of warmth.

Lyanna leaned back against her chair, exhaling softly as she glanced out the window. The clouds over Winterfell were beginning to thin, and a faint shaft of sunlight touched the distant hills. She smiled to herself.

Maybe, she thought, the day wasn’t over just yet. 

King’s Landing

The late afternoon sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Rhaegar’s study, painting the marble floors in gold and shadow. He had spent most of the day catching up on work — reviewing reports from Dragonstone Hotels and responding to a few urgent messages from the airline division — but he’d be lying if he said his focus hadn’t wandered more than once.

Every few minutes, his eyes would flick to the clock on his desk. 3:52 PM.

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling a quiet laugh at himself. It wasn’t as if this was a business meeting he had to prepare for, yet somehow it felt more nerve-wracking. He wanted this call to go well — no awkward pauses, no rushed words. Just them, talking as easily as they always did.

He picked up his phone, scrolling back through Lyanna’s message from that morning. He had read it more times than he’d care to admit.

Good morning, Rhaegar! I hope you slept well after your long drive last night. I’ve been thinking about yesterday… it was quite the eventful day. Let me know when you’re free later so we can call or video chat. :-)

He smiled faintly. Even through text, her words had a warmth that tugged at him — light, sincere, and effortlessly grounding. He typed back earlier that day, confirming their 4 PM call, and ever since, the hours had felt unusually long.

At 3:59, he set aside his pen, straightened the cuff of his shirt, and glanced at his reflection in the dark screen of his laptop. Not that it mattered much, but still. Old habits.

When the screen finally lit up with her name, his chest tightened in that strange, pleasant way he wasn’t used to.

He tapped “Answer.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than he intended.

Lyanna’s face appeared on the screen — framed by the soft, gray-blue light of Winterfell’s evening. “Hi,” she greeted, smiling in that easy, genuine way that immediately made him feel at ease.

Lyanna’s smile was a sight for sore eyes. She looked relaxed, her hair loosely tied back, a faint flush still on her cheeks — probably from spending time outdoors. Behind her, he could see the dim outlines of her room, the soft amber light of a lamp casting warmth across her face.

“You look like you actually got some rest,” she said teasingly.

“I did,” Rhaegar replied, leaning back slightly in his chair. “For once, I let myself sleep in without worrying about the world ending.”

“That’s good,” she said with a small laugh. “You deserve it after that long drive.”

There was a brief, comfortable pause — the kind that felt less like silence and more like space to breathe.

“How’s the North?” he asked. “Still as cold as ever?”

“Colder,” she replied, smiling faintly. “But peaceful. I went riding earlier — I needed it. I missed the quiet. The Riverlands were beautiful, but this…” she glanced out her window, as if showing him the dusk settling over Winterfell, “…this feels like home.”

He nodded slowly, his expression softening. “It suits you — the North. You belong to it in a way that makes it… calmer. Grounded.”

Lyanna tilted her head. “You always talk like a poet, you know that?”

He chuckled. “Viserys says the same thing. I told him it’s better than sounding like a stock market report.”

That made her laugh — genuinely this time. It was the kind of laugh that pulled an answering smile from him before he could stop it.

When the laughter faded, there was that familiar, quiet pull between them again. Neither of them needed to say much; the unspoken was already there, hovering in the soft static of the call.

Rhaegar cleared his throat lightly. “You mentioned earlier that you’ve been thinking about yesterday.”

Lyanna hesitated for half a second, her eyes flicking down before meeting his again. “I have. A lot, actually. I didn’t expect to meet someone who’d make me… rethink things.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Rethink what?”

She smiled a little, almost shyly. “I don’t know. Where I’m going, what I want. Everything just feels like it’s shifting lately. And somehow, you’re part of that shift.”

For a moment, Rhaegar didn’t speak. He felt something tighten in his chest — something both unfamiliar and inevitable.

“I think,” he said quietly, “you’ve done the same for me.”

Lyanna looked at him through the screen, the faintest glimmer of something in her eyes — warmth, curiosity, maybe even hope.

The air between them felt heavy with meaning, even through pixels and distance.

She finally broke the silence with a soft laugh. “We sound ridiculous, don’t we? Like two people in a movie who don’t know what to do with their feelings.”

Rhaegar smiled. “Maybe. But I don’t mind ridiculous.”

“Neither do I,” she said.

They both lingered on the call longer than planned — talking about mundane things, teasing each other, trading stories about their siblings — until the sun had fully dipped behind the horizon in King’s Landing, and the sky outside Lyanna’s window had turned dark.

When they finally said their goodnights, neither of them wanted to end the call first.

“Sleep well, Lyanna,” Rhaegar said softly.

“You too,” she replied, her voice almost a whisper. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Definitely.”

The call ended, but for a long while afterward, Rhaegar found himself staring at the darkened screen, the faint echo of her laughter still playing in his mind.

The call ended with the faint click of disconnection, but the silence that followed didn’t feel empty.

Rhaegar leaned back in his chair, the soft leather creaking under him as he stared at the black screen of his laptop. His study was dimly lit — only the amber glow of the desk lamp illuminated the room, pooling light over a stack of files and an untouched cup of tea.

Outside the wide glass windows, the city stretched in the distance — King’s Landing glittering faintly under the night sky. From this far out, the noise of traffic and nightlife faded into a gentle hum. The Targaryen estate sat on the city’s upper edge, near the cliffs overlooking Blackwater Bay — close enough to see the lights, but far enough to breathe.

He exhaled slowly, letting his gaze drift toward the skyline. Lyanna’s voice still echoed faintly in his mind — calm, bright, and unguarded in a way few people around him ever were. She spoke as if the world didn’t need to be managed every second, as if life could simply be.

It was strange. For years, he’d lived by routine — balancing boardrooms, family expectations, and quiet isolation. But now… a single conversation with her made the quiet feel less empty.

He allowed a faint smile. “You’re trouble,” he murmured under his breath, though there was warmth in his tone.

The moment lingered — peaceful, almost fragile — until his phone buzzed against the desk.

He glanced down. A reminder from his father’s secretary: Dinner tomorrow. 7PM sharp. The Chairman requests your attendance.

Rhaegar’s smile faded, replaced by a resigned sigh. His father never summoned without reason.

Whatever calm Lyanna brought him tonight, it would have to survive what tomorrow demanded.

He leaned back again, staring out the window. The city lights blinked like distant fires — beautiful from afar, but too bright up close. 

The following evening…

The Targaryen residence sat just outside the city’s busiest streets, quiet enough that the city felt distant, muted. Rhaegar arrived promptly at seven, as his father’s secretary had reminded him. The dining room was warm, the soft glow of the chandelier reflecting off the polished mahogany table. His parents were already seated — Aerys with an unreadable expression, and Rhaella, composed as ever, glancing over the evening’s menu.

“Good evening,” Rhaegar greeted, taking his seat.

Aerys set his tablet aside and leaned forward slightly. “Rhaegar, we wanted to talk to you about Storm’s End — about what happened when your mother and I visited.”

Rhaegar’s posture straightened, attentive. “I assume it wasn’t a pleasant visit.”

Aerys let out a dry laugh. “Pleasant? Hardly. Steffon received us politely, yes, but Cassana… she defended Robert at every turn. She found excuses for him at every point — his drinking, his antics, his… temper. And Steffon, bless him, keeps giving in. It’s infuriating.”

Rhaella’s fingers drummed lightly on the table. “And you know the worst of it — Robert’s version of events. He told his parents a story where he was wronged by Brandon, but conveniently left out the part where he struck Lyanna in front of everyone.”

Rhaegar clenched his jaw slightly. “I know. Brandon told me immediately. That’s why I contacted you. Robert always plays the victim, never wants to admit his own actions.”

Aerys’s eyes narrowed. “Exactly. He’s not just careless — he’s arrogant, entitled, and dangerously narcissistic. And with Cassana always finding excuses for him, nothing ever changes.”

Rhaella’s tone softened, but remained firm. “Steffon wants to discipline him, but Cassana twists it into a story where Robert is the martyr. And you know how our relationship with them is already cracked… now it’s broken beyond repair. Robert’s behavior is putting that at risk.”

Rhaegar exhaled, leaning back slightly. “I just hope they take our message seriously. He can’t keep acting like this — not publicly, not with anyone’s reputation at stake.”

Aerys smirked faintly, a trace of amusement in his sharp eyes. “You handled the Riverlands well. Keeping him from escalating further, and protecting Lyanna… that required maturity. Something Robert clearly lacks.”

Rhaella reached over to rest a hand on Rhaegar’s shoulder. “You’ve done what you could, love. The rest is on them. We made our stance clear — we gave them the ultimatum. If they value anything, they’ll finally rein him in.”

Rhaegar let his hand rest over hers for a moment, thinking of Lyanna — her composure, her integrity, the way she had handled herself despite everything. Outside, King’s Landing glittered against the darkening sky, distant and alive.

He glanced at his phone. Lyanna’s message from the morning — her warm, thoughtful words — waited at the top of the screen. He smiled faintly, the tension from the discussion slowly loosening. For a brief moment, he allowed himself a quiet reflection: the calm, grounded presence she brought into his thoughts, the stark contrast to Robert’s chaos.

Rhaegar leaned back in his chair after dinner, the low hum of the city faint in the distance. The conversation with his parents had been frank, unsparing, and necessary — Storm’s End would have to reckon with Robert, one way or another. Yet despite the weight of responsibility and the lingering irritation at the Baratheons’ excuses, his thoughts inevitably drifted to Lyanna. He pulled his phone from the desk drawer, staring at the screen as he replayed their conversation from earlier. A small, private smile tugged at his lips, the quiet warmth of her laughter echoing in his mind. For all the chaos and the corporate politics, the hotel management crises, and the endless family entanglements, this — her presence in his thoughts — was the only part that made sense. And as he set the phone down, he knew one thing with certainty: whatever storms lay ahead, he had to see her again, soon.

Chapter Text

The Vale Strategic Partners – Vale Office

Ned Stark’s car rolled up the driveway to the sleek, modern offices of The Vale Strategic Partners, the sun high above casting sharp shadows across the glass façade. It had been a long journey back from Winterfell, and despite the quiet hum of the city, Ned felt the weight of what awaited him inside. The past few days in Riverlands had left him unsettled, shaken in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

Stepping out of the car, he straightened his jacket and ran a hand through his hair. Work had always been his anchor, the thing he threw himself into while Robert lounged in comfort and took credit for half of Ned’s effort. But everything had shifted after the incident at Dragonstone Hotel. Seeing Robert strike his sister, hearing the cruel words — words that left no room for excuses — had changed something fundamental in Ned. Loyalty was one thing, but blind loyalty to a brute was another entirely.

The lobby was quiet when he entered, the receptionist greeting him with a polite nod. The usual chatter of interns and junior analysts had yet to pick up; most of the floor was still settling into the afternoon rhythm. Ned passed by Robert’s office, catching a glimpse of him leaning back in his chair, half-heartedly reviewing a report as though he hadn’t just squandered yet another opportunity to act responsibly.

Ned’s jaw tightened. For the first time in years, he no longer felt the urge to cover for Robert, to smooth over mistakes, or to make excuses. He had planned to stay in the Vale another month or two, finishing projects and keeping his reputation intact — but now, a decision had crystallized in his mind. Two weeks. That was all he could stomach before he would step away from this toxic balance, from a system that rewarded laziness and punished integrity.

As he walked past the offices, Ned’s mind replayed the images from Riverlands — Lyanna’s stunned silence, Brandon’s fury, Robert’s smirk when he thought he could charm his way out of consequences. It wasn’t just about business anymore. It wasn’t just about careers or mentorships under Jon Arryn. It was about what he would tolerate, and more importantly, who he wanted to be in a world that demanded both strength and decency.

Stopping briefly by the water cooler, Ned drew in a deep breath. Two weeks. He had time to finish his work with honor, but not enough to keep pretending. The moment had come to draw the line — for himself, and for the people whose trust he valued.

Ned made his way to his office, the soft click of his shoes against the polished floor echoing in the otherwise quiet corridor. Jon Arryn’s office was just down the hall, and Ned hesitated outside the door, adjusting his tie and taking a measured breath. He had always respected Jon, even admired him, but today, he couldn’t help but wonder how much the mentor really saw — and how much he chose to ignore.

“Come in, Ned,” Jon called from behind the glass door, his voice warm but tinged with curiosity. The older man looked up from a stack of reports, his keen eyes immediately catching the subtle tension in Ned’s posture.

Ned stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Afternoon, Jon.”

“Afternoon,” Jon replied, leaning back in his chair. He studied Ned quietly for a moment, the silence stretching just long enough to make Ned feel under a microscope. “You’ve been… quieter than usual since your return. I take it Riverlands left more of an impression than expected?”

Ned’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. “It did. And not just on me. On how I see things here. On what I’m willing to tolerate.” He let the words hang in the air, careful not to betray too much, yet leaving no doubt that something had shifted.

Jon’s eyes narrowed slightly, catching the subtle undertone. “I see. And that… change in perspective, does it involve Robert?”

Ned nodded once, stiffly. “It does. I can no longer cover for him, Jon. Not after what happened. Not after what I witnessed.”

Jon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, steepling his fingers. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of understanding — and maybe a shadow of concern. “I appreciate your honesty, Ned. You know I’ve always tried to be fair in mentoring both of you… but sometimes fairness doesn’t mean treating everyone the same. The path you choose now… it will have consequences. Are you prepared for that?”

Ned met his gaze evenly. “I am. It’s time I stopped being responsible for someone else’s mistakes. Time I act with integrity, even if it complicates things.”

Jon regarded him silently for a long beat, then leaned back with a faint sigh. “Very well. I think I understand. Just… don’t burn bridges unnecessarily. You know how interconnected this industry can be.”

Ned gave a curt nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As he left Jon’s office, a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. The conversation had been short, but the acknowledgment from his mentor — subtle though it was — confirmed what Ned had already decided: he was no longer Robert’s shadow, no longer complicit in smoothing over chaos. He would forge his own path, on his own terms, consequences be damned.

Ned returned to his desk, the afternoon sunlight cutting across the sleek surface. He opened his laptop, his mind still restless from the events in the Riverlands. The words “Two-Week Notice” hovered in his thoughts, unspoken but firm. He knew it was time—he couldn’t keep covering for Robert, not after what he had seen.

Before he could begin, the office door swung open. Robert leaned in, casual as ever, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Ned, there you are! I was wondering where you ran off to. Don’t tell me Jon’s lectures put you in a corner.”

Ned straightened, keeping his tone measured. “Just getting back into the flow of things.”

Robert chuckled, sauntering closer. “I don’t know what got into you in Riverlands, Ned. You’re… different. Still covering for me like always, right?”

Ned’s hands tightened on the desk. “I’m not sure I can, Robert. Not after what I saw. Not after what you did.”

Robert’s smirk faltered, replaced by a sharp glint in his eyes. “Oh? And what exactly did I do?” he asked, though the tension in his voice betrayed a flicker of irritation.

Ned met his gaze evenly. “You struck my sister Robert, MY sister. Called her names. And I realized… I can’t be a part of cleaning up after that.”

Robert’s jaw tightened. A slow, calculating smile returned, colder this time. “Interesting… so you’re walking away. I guess we’ll see how far you get without me.” His gaze darkened for a brief moment, almost imperceptible, as if testing how much Ned noticed. “And I suppose some people will just have to… learn their place.”

Ned didn’t respond. The weight of Robert’s words hung in the room, a quiet warning. Ned knew this wasn’t over. Robert’s bruised ego was a dangerous thing—and Lyanna, somewhere far away, might soon feel its shadow.

After Robert left, Ned sat back in his chair, exhaling slowly. The sunlight had shifted, casting long shadows across the office, and for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself a moment of clarity. He opened a new document on his laptop and typed a subject line he never thought he would: Two-Week Notice.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, then he began. The words came steadily, professional yet resolute. He thanked Jon Arryn for his guidance, expressed gratitude for the opportunities, and made it clear he could no longer continue under the current circumstances. Each sentence solidified his decision—it was time to stop being Robert’s shadow, to stop being the one who cleaned up after another man’s recklessness.

Across the room, Robert was nowhere in sight, but Ned could almost feel his presence. The smirk, the dark glint in his eyes, the quiet menace that had lingered during their last exchange—it was as if Robert had left a shadow in the office, one that would follow him even after he handed in the notice. Ned knew he had made himself a target, and that Robert’s bruised pride would fester.

Still, Ned pressed on, determined. He finished the letter, re-read it, then saved it as a draft. He wasn’t sending it immediately; he would give the office a brief notice, honor the professional courtesy—but he wouldn’t let Robert’s vindictiveness dictate his life anymore.

As he leaned back, Ned’s thoughts drifted briefly to Lyanna. The image of her calm composure, her strength despite everything, strengthened his resolve. He would protect what he could, from afar if necessary. And if Robert had any plans—any shadowed schemes against her—he would make sure they didn’t go unchallenged.

For now, though, he would focus on finishing the day, keeping his head down, and preparing for the moment when he finally walked away. Robert could play his games, but Ned had already won in one way: he had finally seen clearly.

Ned’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, a storm of emotions warring within him. The urge to stand, to walk out of the office and never look back, was nearly irresistible. He could leave Robert to his own devices, abandon the charade entirely. Yet, a flicker of doubt stayed his hand—the awareness that Robert’s vindictive streak might not stop with him, that someone else, someone like Lyanna, could be caught in the crossfire.

With a steadying breath, Ned let his resolve sharpen. He would not abandon his responsibility. Not completely. He would honor his position just long enough to safeguard what mattered, to leave no loose ends. The words of the two-week notice were typed firmly, decisively—a compromise born of courage, foresight, and a steadfast sense of duty.

For the first time, Ned knew that walking away didn’t mean weakness. It meant choosing what he would and would not tolerate—and he would tolerate nothing that put those he cared for in harm’s way.

Ned walked into Jon Arryn’s office just before closing, the afternoon sun slanting through the tall windows. Jon looked up from his papers, his expression calm but expectant.

“Jon,” Ned began, his voice steady, “I’m resigning. Effective immediately.”

Jon’s brows lifted slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Immediately, hmm?” he said softly, leaning back in his chair. “That is… unexpected.”

“I’ve thought long and hard about this,” Ned said, choosing his words carefully. “Circumstances have made it clear that I cannot continue here. I need to move on—focus on what I need to do, and where I need to be.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed just a fraction, but he kept his voice measured. “I see. You’ve made your choice, Ned. I suppose there’s nothing I can do to change it.”

Ned nodded, feeling a quiet certainty settle over him. He wasn’t running. He wasn’t acting in haste. He was making a decision grounded in principle and clarity, and that was enough.

As he turned to leave, Jon’s gaze followed him, subtle but sharp. “I hope your conviction serves you well,” he said quietly.

Ned’s jaw set. It would. He would stand firm in his decisions, whatever the road ahead might bring.

As Ned left Jon Arryn’s office, the faint sound of the door closing behind him seemed louder than it should have been. He didn’t glance back, though he could feel the weight of Jon’s gaze lingering.

In the common area, Robert was idly flipping through documents, pretending to work but clearly aware of the stir caused by Ned’s abrupt departure. A smirk tugged at his lips—not out of amusement at Jon’s reaction, but at the thought of the inconvenience Ned’s decision would create. There was a certain vindictiveness in the way Robert’s fingers drummed the table, a silent reminder that he never let anything slide.

Ned, however, refused to entertain it. He walked through the halls of The Vale Strategic Partners with measured steps, each one affirming the decision he had just made. Robert might try to twist circumstances, might find a way to create discomfort—but Ned’s resolve was firm. He would not be drawn back.

Finding a quiet spot near the large windows that overlooked the city below, Ned paused. The late afternoon light painted the office in warm hues, a stark contrast to the turmoil he had felt in recent days. He let himself breathe, letting the quiet remind him that this was not a moment of surrender, but of clarity.

He had chosen his path. Not out of anger, not out of spite, but because he finally understood what he could no longer tolerate. Loyalty and duty were virtues, but they were meaningless if they came at the expense of one’s principles.

Ned looked out over the horizon, the city sprawling beneath him, and let the certainty settle in. He would face the challenges ahead with the same strength that had guided him all his life. Today, he had made a decision—and for the first time in a long while, it felt like it was entirely his own. For now, it’s time to come home. 

Chapter Text

Ned’s car rolled up the familiar drive to Winterfell, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the estate. The six-hour drive from the Vale had left him tired, his muscles stiff from hours behind the wheel, but the sight of home eased some of the weariness. The halls seemed quieter than he remembered, the bustle slightly subdued without Benjen, who was back at Castle Black University for the semester. Even so, the house carried the same warmth, the faint scent of pine and home-cooked meals greeting him as he stepped out. Returning here felt grounding after weeks away, and as he glanced at the sprawling grounds, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of responsibility—and the comfort of being back among his family.

Ned trudged up the steps toward the main entrance, rubbing the back of his neck. The familiar creak of the door was oddly comforting. Inside, the living room was a mix of quiet chatter and the low hum of activity—Lyanna sprawled on the sofa with a book, flipping pages absentmindedly, while Benjen’s room upstairs remained empty, a silent reminder of the youngest Stark being away.

“Back so soon?” Lyanna asked without looking up, her tone teasing but warm. “You look like you wrestled a mountain on the way here.”

Ned chuckled softly, lowering his bag. “Something like that. The Vale isn’t exactly next door, you know.”

From the hallway, a shadow detached itself. It was Brandon, pacing slightly, phone in hand, probably checking on some NorthStark project updates. “Took you long enough,” he said, though the smirk on his face betrayed more curiosity than irritation. “How’s life under Jon Arryn’s thumb treating you?”

“Exhausting,” Ned admitted, letting himself sink into a chair. “But necessary.”

Brandon arched an eyebrow, leaning against the doorway. “Necessary, huh? I take it you’ve had one of those realizations that make you see things… differently?”

Ned paused, tired eyes meeting his brother’s. He didn’t need to explain, and he wouldn’t—at least not yet. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, though, as he noted the familiar cadence of his siblings’ voices, the rhythm of life at Winterfell that always seemed to center him, no matter how far he’d traveled or how heavy the day had been.

Lyanna finally looked up from her book, catching his gaze. “You look like you need a proper meal and maybe a shower,” she said softly. She set the book aside and rose, moving with the ease of someone used to keeping track of everyone around her. “Come on, it’s not like you’re in the Vale anymore. You can let someone take care of you for once.”

Brandon couldn’t resist adding a jab, a playful glint in his eyes. “Careful, Ned. Lyanna might start pampering you too much. Next thing you know, you’ll be expecting foot massages with your morning coffee.”

Lyanna rolled her eyes, a faint laugh escaping her lips. She glanced at Brandon, then back at Ned, her expression softening. “Don’t tempt me, Brandon. He’s been gone long enough to know what real comfort feels like.”

Moving around the room, she handed Ned a towel she had set aside, reminding him gently to wash up before sitting down for dinner. She fussed over the cushions on the sofa, quietly straightening them while Brandon pretended not to notice. Her calm, nurturing energy filled the space, giving Ned a sense of being looked after that went beyond teasing—it was grounding.

The three of them lingered, the soft banter and warmth of family filling the room. Even with Benjen away at university, the house felt full, alive with laughter, teasing, and familiarity. For Ned, it was a quiet reprieve, a moment to breathe, to simply be home.

As he settled in, Ned reflected on the last few weeks, the decisions he had made, and the burdens he carried from the Vale. And yet, sitting there, surrounded by Lyanna’s quiet care and the easy familiarity of his siblings, he felt a little lighter.

Lyanna noticed the shadow lingering in Ned’s eyes as he sank into the chair. Without a word, she moved closer, placing a hand gently on his shoulder—a simple, grounding touch. She didn’t pry; she didn’t need to. Sometimes, she thought, it was enough to just be present.

And for Ned, that silent presence, that subtle comfort, gave him clarity. Home wasn’t just the place he returned to—it was the people who held him steady, even in the chaos of the world outside.

Just as Ned was starting to relax, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the hall. Heavy boots on the stone steps announced Rickard Stark’s arrival. He stepped inside, shedding his coat and scarf, his presence commanding yet familiar—the kind that made the house feel complete.

“Father!” Brandon called out immediately, straightening up from where he had been leaning against the doorway, phone tucked into his pocket. “You’re back earlier than I expected.”

Rickard’s eyes softened when they landed on Ned. “And you, Ned. Looking worn out as ever,” he said with a faint smile, ruffling his eldest son’s hair in a rare gesture of warmth. “Did the Vale treat you kindly?”

“Exhaustingly, as usual,” Ned replied with a small, tired grin. “But I managed.”

Lyanna moved to stand beside her father, smoothing the edge of his coat with a careful hand. “Come, Father. Let me get you settled before you collapse. You’ve had a long day traveling.”

Rickard chuckled softly, letting her guide him to a chair near the hearth. “You’ve grown into quite the caretaker, Lyanna,” he said, glancing at her with pride. “The house runs smoother with you around than I ever imagined.”

Brandon smirked. “That’s because she’s been mothering all of us since she could walk.”

Lyanna rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement. “Better us than letting you all run around like headless chickens.”

Ned caught Rickard’s gaze across the room for a brief moment. There was understanding there—a shared acknowledgment that while life outside Winterfell might be chaotic, this house, this family, remained a steadying force.

As Rickard settled in, Lyanna moved quietly to prepare some tea and snacks, fussing over the small details while Brandon tapped away at his phone. Ned sank a little deeper into the chair, allowing himself a rare moment of stillness, comforted by the presence of his father and siblings, the walls of Winterfell holding them together against whatever storms the outside world might throw.

Rickard settled into the chair Lyanna had offered, the warmth from the hearth reflecting in his eyes. “So… the Vale,” he began casually, fingers steepled. “Tell me, Ned, how did your time under Jon Arryn’s wing go? Learned anything useful, I hope?”

Ned straightened slightly, his tiredness momentarily pushed aside. “It was… enlightening,” he replied carefully, choosing his words. “Jon has a way of showing the ropes while letting you see the bigger picture. I’ve learned a lot about operational strategy—and, of course, patience.”

Rickard let a small, knowing smile tug at his lips, the kind that suggested he already had an inkling of what Ned might be holding back. “Patience… yes, I remember that well. And Robert? You’ve worked closely with him these past weeks. I imagine you’ve had your share of… observations.”

Ned’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, but his voice remained steady. “Robert… has his strengths,” he said, deliberately vague. “But some lessons are harder than others.”

Rickard nodded slowly, letting the statement hang in the air. “I see. And yet you’ve returned sooner than I expected. That’s not a decision made lightly, I gather.”

Ned exhaled quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, Father. I needed to be back here, to reassess things… and to focus on what matters most.”

Rickard leaned back slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to suggest a subtle acknowledgment—approval mingled with a silent question. He didn’t need to press further; Ned’s tone, his posture, and the faint tension in his eyes conveyed everything.

Lyanna hovered nearby, busying herself with tidying a stack of papers, but her glance toward Ned was filled with understanding and pride. For once, he wasn’t just the reliable eldest son—he was someone making a choice, standing firm in his own conviction, even when it wasn’t the easiest path.

Rickard’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, silent, contemplative. Then he nodded, as though allowing Ned the space to hold his decision without interruption. The quiet of Winterfell settled around them again, a soft acknowledgment that family, trust, and resolve sometimes spoke louder than words.

Ned shifted slightly in his chair, letting the quiet stretch for a moment before speaking. “Father… there’s something you should know about the last few days at the Vale,” he began, voice steady, even, measured. “It concerns… Robert.”

Rickard’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. He simply waited, fingers interlaced, eyes sharp yet patient.

“I witnessed a behavior… that I couldn’t condone,” Ned continued, choosing each word carefully. “Disrespect toward colleagues, disregard for established protocols, and an unwillingness to take accountability for mistakes. It reached a point where remaining in that environment was no longer productive—for me, or for the integrity of the work.”

Lyanna’s head tilted slightly, concern flickering in her eyes, though she didn’t speak. Brandon leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, studying Ned closely.

“I made the decision to resign immediately,” Ned said, his gaze calm, unwavering. “Not lightly, but after observing the repeated patterns of conduct and the impact it could have if left unchecked. I cannot align myself with practices that compromise responsibility and accountability.”

Rickard’s expression remained unreadable for a moment, then he gave a subtle nod, almost imperceptible—a recognition of Ned’s resolve. “I see,” he said quietly. “You’ve weighed your choices carefully. That is… commendable. And necessary.”

Ned exhaled slowly, feeling a small weight lift. “I did what I thought was right, Father. I still value the lessons Jon Arryn imparted, but some things are beyond what guidance alone can reconcile. I had to act.”

Brandon finally spoke, smirking faintly. “Sounds like you’ve grown even more… principled, Ned. I think I can admire that.”

Lyanna stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “And I think you did exactly what you had to do,” she said softly. “It’s not easy to draw that line, especially when loyalty pulls you in another direction.”

Rickard leaned back in his chair, his eyes meeting Ned’s. “Then we respect your decision. Not everyone can stand firm when the path is uncertain. You did.”

Ned allowed himself a brief, satisfied nod, the clarity of his choice settling around him. Outside, Winterfell’s wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the quiet affirmation that some decisions—though difficult—defined the person more than any praise or blame ever could. 

The next morning, sunlight filtered gently through the tall windows of Winterfell’s dining room, casting a warm glow over the breakfast table. Ned entered, still carrying the slight stiffness from the long drive, though the weight on his shoulders from yesterday’s decision seemed lighter now.

Lyanna had already set the table, a plate of fresh pastries, fruits, and steaming coffee waiting for them. “Good morning,” she greeted, voice bright and steady, though there was a hint of teasing in her tone. “You look like you could use a cup of something strong… and maybe a week’s worth of sleep.”

Brandon, seated with a tablet in hand, glanced up briefly. “Did you survive the Vale, little brother?” His smirk suggested curiosity, but not mockery—more the playful assessment of someone returning from a long journey.

Ned took a deep breath, sitting down across from her. “I survived,” he replied simply, letting his eyes meet Lyanna’s for a brief moment of shared understanding. “And yes, coffee would be very welcome.”

The siblings fell into a comfortable rhythm—Lyanna quietly encouraging conversation, Brandon occasionally checking on work updates but still teasing lightly, and Ned gradually loosening into the familial warmth he had missed. The house felt alive, the usual blend of chatter, clinking cutlery, and the low hum of activity grounding him in a way the Vale never had.

“By the way,” Lyanna added, her tone shifting slightly to one of curiosity, “are you finally free to ride today? Frost’s been looking forward to you.”

Ned raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose I could use some fresh air… and a reminder that horses don’t mind your past mistakes.”

Brandon laughed quietly from his corner, shaking his head. “I’d pay to see this—Ned Stark, the noble, trudging into the North fields on a horse. Maybe it’ll make a better impression than he did at the Vale.”

Lyanna smirked, already standing. “Come on then. Let’s see if you still remember how to stay on.”

Stables – Later

The stable doors creaked softly as they opened, the scent of hay and horses mingling with the crisp morning air. Frost, Lyanna’s gray mare, lifted her head and flicked her ears at the sound of familiar footsteps.

Lyanna approached, brushing the silvery mane with practiced ease. “Ready, Ned?” she asked, holding the reins toward him in a teasing gesture.

Ned chuckled, adjusting his jacket. “I think I’m ready… though I make no promises about grace or elegance.”

They mounted, the rhythm of the horses’ hooves soon carrying them beyond the stables, out into the wide fields that stretched past Winterfell. Lyanna led, moving with effortless command, while Ned followed, adjusting to the familiar sway and pace.

The North air was cold, crisp, and clean, filling their lungs and clearing their thoughts. Lyanna glanced over at him, a small, knowing smile on her face. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Just… quiet. No schedules, no meetings, no Vale politics.”

Ned nodded, scanning the horizon. “It’s… grounding. Makes you think clearly, helps you remember what matters.”

They rode on in companionable silence, the occasional call of a bird or the soft snort of a horse punctuating the calm. Lyanna’s mind drifted to her work with NorthStark Property Development Corp., to the projects she wanted to pursue, the future she wanted to carve out—while still feeling this rare freedom, riding alongside her brother.

Ned kept a measured pace, his thoughts returning briefly to the Vale and the events that led him here. But out here, amidst the wind and open land, he let himself breathe. Here, he could think, could reflect, could simply exist without expectation—just as Lyanna had once guided him to do, in ways both subtle and profound.

For a while, words weren’t necessary. The North stretched around them, steady, enduring, and familiar. The quiet strength of Winterfell and the rhythm of their horses reminded them of something unspoken: that no matter how far they traveled. 

Lyanna glanced back at Ned as they rode along the hillcrest, an amused sparkle in her eyes. “Careful there, big brother,” she called, her voice carrying over the soft clatter of hooves. “Don’t tell me the Vale has left you this stiff—you’re practically a statue on Frost!”

Ned let out a short laugh, adjusting his posture. “I assure you, it’s just… strategic balance. You wouldn’t understand, being the naturally graceful one.”

Lyanna rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Naturally graceful, huh? That’s one way to put it.” Her smirk softened into something warmer as she slowed Frost to a walk. “You’re doing fine. Just… don’t fall off, or I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

They settled into an easy rhythm, horses moving side by side, the wind brushing against their faces. After a moment, Ned spoke more seriously, glancing at his sister. “Lyanna… how does it feel, now that you’re really working at NorthStark? Not just an intern, not just summer projects… but handling real responsibilities, real decisions?”

Lyanna considered the question, her fingers lightly tracing Frost’s mane. “It’s… different,” she said slowly. “Exciting, yes, but also… heavier. I love it—truly—but it’s not just about learning anymore. I have to think about consequences, about what will actually impact the company and the people around me.”

Ned nodded, listening intently. “Sounds like you’ve really grown into it. I always knew you’d take it seriously, but I’m glad you get to… see your own strength in action.”

A small smile tugged at Lyanna’s lips. “Thanks, Ned. It’s been… a lot, but I like it. I feel like I’m finally doing something that matters, not just filling a space or proving I can handle it.”

He gave a quiet chuckle, nudging his horse forward slightly. “That’s exactly how it should feel. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little proud of you.”

Lyanna laughed softly, the sound carried away by the wind. “Careful, Ned. You’re making me blush out here in front of Frost. And besides, I think I’ve got a few more lessons for you before you can call yourself a proper rider.”

Ned shook his head with a wry smile. “I’ll take my lessons wherever I can get them. Just… keep it fair, little sister.”

They rode on, side by side, the North stretching around them. Between playful jabs and quiet reflections, the moment felt steady, grounding—an anchor in the midst of their busy lives, a reminder that some things, like family and the open fields of Winterfell, were constants they could always count on.

Lyanna slowed Frost to a gentle walk, glancing at Ned with a thoughtful expression. “Enough about me for a bit,” she said, her voice softer now, tinged with curiosity. “You’ve been through a lot lately… all the stuff with the Vale, with Robert. What about you? What’s next for you, Ned?”

Ned shifted in the saddle, rubbing the back of his neck. The question wasn’t unwelcome, but it pulled at the edges of the decisions he’d been weighing ever since that fateful day. “I… I’m not entirely sure yet,” he admitted. “Brandon suggested I take some time to think things over, and Rhaegar—he’s been… supportive too. NorthStark is open to me, if I want it. Even some of the Targaryen companies have offered opportunities.”

Lyanna raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That’s… a lot of options. You must feel pulled in different directions.”

“I do,” Ned said, letting out a quiet sigh. “But more than anything, I need to figure out where I can actually make a difference. Where I can do work I’m proud of without… compromising myself. That’s why I made the decision I did back at the Vale. It’s just the start of figuring out the rest.”

Lyanna gave him a small, encouraging smile. “I get it. You’ve always been the one to think ahead, to do what’s right—even if it’s hard. I’m proud of you for that, Ned.”

He glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Lyanna. Means a lot coming from you. You’ve been making your own mark too… I think we both know what it’s like to take something we care about and actually own it.”

Lyanna chuckled softly, patting Frost’s neck. “Guess we do, don’t we? Well, whatever you decide, just make sure it’s yours and yours alone. Not what anyone else thinks is right.”

Ned nodded, feeling a little lighter with the conversation. The ride continued in comfortable silence, each lost in thought, yet grounded by the presence of the other—reminders that choices could be daunting, but the right ones always started with clarity and courage. 

A Few days later…

Lyanna stepped quietly into her father’s office, the soft click of the door announcing her presence. Rickard looked up from a stack of documents, a warm, slightly weary smile spreading across his face.

“Ah, Lyanna,” he said, setting the papers aside. “Come in. I wanted a moment with you, just the two of us.”

She walked over, noting the familiar scent of polished wood and leather. “You wanted to see me, Father?” she asked, perching on the edge of the chair across from his desk.

Rickard leaned back, rubbing his temples as if weighing the right words. “I owe you an apology,” he began carefully. “About Robert… about the way I pushed you, even slightly, in that direction. I thought I was doing the right thing, guiding you, but I see now how wrong I was.”

Lyanna smiled softly, the warmth in her expression easing some of the tension in the room. “Papa,” she said gently, “I know you only ever want the best for me. I’ve already forgiven you. It’s… in the past.”

Rickard’s eyes softened, the relief barely hidden behind his composed exterior. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to hear that. Your mother… she would have been proud of the way you handled everything. Strong, clever, yet compassionate. Just like her.”

Lyanna’s gaze drifted to the window, watching the late afternoon light spill across the office. “I hope I can honor her memory,” she said quietly. “She always seemed to know exactly what to do, how to balance strength with kindness. I try to do the same.”

“You do more than try,” Rickard said, his voice warm but firm. “You live it. That’s why I trust you to make your own decisions now, Lyanna. About your work, your life… your heart. I don’t need to guide you anymore, because you’ve shown me you’re capable of guiding yourself.”

Lyanna met his eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you, Papa. That means more than I can say.”

They shared a quiet moment, the bond between them deeper than words. The office, usually filled with business and strategy, felt lighter now — a safe space for father and daughter to reflect, to forgive, and to simply be.

Rickard finally broke the silence, a hint of pride in his voice. “Just promise me one thing, Lyanna. Keep being who you are. And never let anyone — no one — make you feel otherwise.”

Lyanna’s smile widened, a warmth settling in her chest. “I promise.”

Rickard leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his desk. “Lyanna… I wanted to take a moment with you with this. I’ve seen how you’ve taken to NorthStark — how seriously you approach it, how thoughtful you are with every decision. I couldn’t be prouder.”

Lyanna smiled faintly, adjusting her posture. “Thank you, Papa. I’m learning a lot… and I want to make sure I do it right. I want my work to matter, not just for the company, but for the people I work with.”

Rickard nodded. “Exactly. That’s what sets leaders apart — understanding the responsibility behind the title. Your mother would have said the same. Strength without losing yourself. You’ve got that instinct, Lyanna. Don’t ever doubt it.”

Lyanna took a deep breath, letting his words settle. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how to approach projects, the team, and the impact I can make. I want to grow, but I don’t want to forget who I am or compromise what I value.”

“That’s why I have no doubt you’ll succeed,” Rickard said quietly. “You have the balance. And when you feel unsure — as we all do sometimes — remember this moment. Your instincts, your heart, your judgment — they’re all part of your foundation.”

Lyanna let out a small, relieved laugh. “I think I understand. Thank you… for trusting me, and for letting me shape my own path.”

Rickard’s eyes glimmered with pride. “Always, Lyanna. You’ve earned that trust. Always.”

As she stood to leave, Lyanna felt lighter — not just from reassurance, but from the certainty that her choices and her work were truly hers to define. Walking toward the door, she carried with her the quiet strength of her mother and the confidence her father had always believed she possessed. 

The next day...

No sooner had Lyanna turned toward the door than Brandon’s voice called out from the hallway.

“Lyanna! Wait up!”

She paused, letting him catch up, already knowing what was coming. Brandon’s expression was half teasing, half impatient, and she could tell he’d been waiting for this moment all morning.

“Good morning, little sister,” he said, sliding into step beside her. “I see you’re finally emerging from your office cave. Thought you’d be buried in papers all day.”

“I had a lot to go through,” Lyanna replied, suppressing a grin. “But I managed to survive, as usual.”

“Surviving isn’t enough,” Brandon shot back, looping an arm around hers and tugging her toward the elevator. “We’re getting lunch, and I’m taking no excuses. You’re not hiding behind your NorthStark desk all day.”

Lyanna laughed. “You do realize I could outrun you in heels, right?”

Brandon smirked, undeterred. “I’d like to see you try. Besides,” he added with a teasing raise of his eyebrows, “I have pressing questions that cannot wait.”

She groaned. “Pressing questions? About what? Your latest spreadsheets?”

“Oh, don’t play innocent,” Brandon said, leading her into the cafeteria. “You know exactly what I mean. Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Lyanna’s eyes sparkled as she slid into a booth across from him. “You mean your BFF, the solemn, perfectly polished Prince of Iron Throne Conglomerate?”

Brandon waved a hand. “Polished, yes. But I want details. Did he flirt? Did he—”

Lyanna held up a finger. “Stop. I barely saw him before I left for King’s Landing. You’re making it sound like I spent a week under siege in the Riverlands.”

“Details matter!” Brandon insisted, grabbing a tray and sitting across from her. “The first impression, the tiny gestures, the way he looked at you when you weren’t looking—come on, sister, spill.”

Lyanna leaned back, smirking. “Fine, fine. He’s charming, witty, and way too calm for someone with his level of responsibility. He’s smart, but not in that annoying, know-it-all way. He actually listens. And… yes, I admit it, he’s infuriatingly good at getting under your skin without trying.”

Brandon raised both eyebrows. “Under her skin, huh? That’s all you’ll give me?”

Lyanna laughed and leaned closer. “And now, I get to ask you questions.”

Brandon’s confident smirk faltered slightly. “Me? Questions? About what?”

“The obvious,” she said, wagging a finger. “Ashara Dayne. The younger sister of your other best friend Arthur. What’s going on there? Are you two still secretly dating? Are you planning to finally tell Arthur about it? I’ve noticed the way you act around her.”

Brandon’s face turned crimson, and he sputtered. “Lyanna! That’s none of your business!”

“Nothing’s off-limits with me,” she said sweetly. “I know you’re trying to be subtle, but subtle isn’t exactly your forte.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible!”

“And yet,” Lyanna added, leaning back with a triumphant grin, “you’re smiling. Admit it — she makes you happy, doesn’t she?”

Brandon peeked at her, trying to maintain his composure, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him. “Maybe… but you’re not supposed to know!”

Lyanna’s laugh carried across the cafeteria. “Secrets are overrated. Now, I think it’s only fair you answer in exchange for my answers about Rhaegar. Or I start spilling every little thing about Ashara to Arthur too.”

Brandon groaned again, but the twinkle in his eye betrayed him. “Fine,” he said, shaking his head. “You drive a hard bargain, sister. Now, the full account, but keep it brief. My eyes aren’t as sharp as yours at reading him.”

Lyanna leaned back, adopting a mock-serious tone. “Brief, huh? That’s like asking a river to stay in its bed. Okay… Rhaegar is exactly as he appears to be—polite, considerate, and annoyingly charming. He makes you feel like your words matter, and he actually remembers them. He teases when he wants, but in a way that’s… thoughtful. And, yes, he’s ridiculously handsome. There, happy?”

Brandon shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, completely. Thanks for the update, sister. My curiosity is at least partially sated… but mark my words, I’ll have more questions next time.”

Lyanna leaned forward, nudging him with her elbow. “Just don’t be surprised if I start asking you even more next time. I have a feeling your love life isn’t going to stay a secret for long.”

Brandon groaned theatrically, but Lyanna could see the warmth in his eyes. No matter how much teasing, or probing, or playful banter they engaged in, the bond between them remained unshakable. And somewhere, in the corner of her mind, Lyanna couldn’t help but smile — teasing, questioning, and occasionally flustering her older brother was just another way of keeping the rhythm of Winterfell alive.

After Brandon finally relented, muttering something about having a “few more pressing questions” later, Lyanna leaned back in her chair, letting out a long, quiet sigh. The cafeteria noise faded into the background as she allowed herself a moment of pause.

Her thoughts drifted back to Rhaegar—his calm composure, the way he seemed to listen more than most people did, and that infuriating charm that left her cheeks warming without warning. She could see why Brandon had to pry; anyone would be curious about someone like him. And yet, beneath the teasing and the laughter, there was a small smile playing on her lips. She was learning to navigate this new rhythm—between her work at NorthStark, the Stark family dynamics, and the lingering excitement from the Riverlands trip.

Even as she considered her own ambitions, Lyanna’s mind wandered to her siblings. Brandon’s endless questions were frustrating at times, but she couldn’t help but feel a protective affection for him. He carried the weight of responsibility with bravado, masking the pressure with humor, and it was her little reminder of how family shaped who they were.

She thought of Benjen at university, far away from the bustle of Winterfell, and of Ned, who had just returned from the Vale. Even in his quiet, steady way, Ned seemed to shoulder burdens that were not his to bear, and she admired him all the more for it. That same admiration made her want to guide him, to make sure he knew his own worth—and sometimes that meant mothering, even her older brother, in small, subtle ways.

Lyanna ran a hand through her hair, letting the afternoon sun filter through the cafeteria window. She felt a gentle tug of contentment. Life at Winterfell was demanding, chaotic even, but it was hers to shape. With her work at NorthStark gaining momentum, with her siblings always circling around in that mix of chaos and love, she felt the stirrings of purpose settle deep inside her.

Smiling to herself, she stood, gathering her tray. Tomorrow would bring more meetings, more calls, and perhaps another encounter with Rhaegar, but for now, there was a quiet satisfaction in knowing she was exactly where she needed to be—even if Brandon still had questions left unanswered.

As Lyanna walked back toward the NorthStark offices, the warmth of the afternoon sun lingering on her shoulders, she felt a quiet satisfaction settle over her. The laughter, the teasing, and even the endless questions from Brandon were all pieces of the life she loved—complex, demanding, but hers to navigate. She knew the days ahead would be full of challenges, decisions, and new responsibilities, yet for the first time in a while, she felt steady. Whatever came next, whether in her work, with her family, or the unexpected paths her heart might lead her, she was ready to face it with the same courage, clarity, and resolve that had carried her this far.

Chapter Text

King’s Landing - Targaryen Residence

The morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the Targaryen residence, catching on the golden trim of the furniture and the soft rumples of silk drapes. Rhaegar moved carefully through the main living area, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched his younger brother, Viserys, darting around the room like a whirlwind.

“Rhaegar! You promised to show me that trick with the guitar!” Viserys called, spinning in place before attempting a not-so-graceful tumble that would have sent most adults into panic.

Rhaegar sighed, though his voice was warm. “Careful, Viserys. One of these days you’ll break something—or yourself.”

Daenerys gurgled softly from her bassinet in the corner, bright eyes following Rhaegar’s every movement. He strummed a few chords, letting the sunlight glint off the polished wood, and began to sing softly. The melody was tender, flowing like water, carrying warmth and calm through the room.

Viserys crouched beside the bassinet, leaning closer. “I like it! Sing more, Rhaegar! Make her smile!”

Rhaegar chuckled, weaving Viserys’ enthusiasm into the song. “I think our sister approves, little brother,” he said, nodding toward Daenerys, whose tiny hands waved in delight.

From the doorway, Rhaella watched silently, arms crossed with her usual commanding presence, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Rhaegar, make sure he doesn’t start dismantling the furniture in the process,” she said lightly, though her eyes twinkled.

Viserys grinned mischievously. “I’m careful!”

“You’re five minutes away from being grounded,” Rhaella replied, her tone soft but firm. “Don’t make me call your father in to supervise.”

Rhaegar’s fingers danced across the strings, each note a thread of calm woven through the morning chaos. “He’s lively, yes, but not impossible to manage,” he said, smiling at his mother’s watchful gaze.

“Some lessons take longer than others,” Rhaella said, teasing but serious, as she settled into an armchair nearby, her eyes on all three children. “Just remember, you all answer to me first, then the world.”

Viserys rolled his eyes, pretending offense. “I am nothing like you!”

Rhaegar laughed, rich and easy. “We’ll see about that,” he teased, exchanging a glance with Rhaella, who merely raised an eyebrow, amused.

After a few more minutes of song, Rhaegar set the guitar gently on his lap and gestured for Viserys to come closer. “Alright, little one. Want to try a chord?”

Viserys’ eyes lit up. “Really? I get to play?”

“Really,” Rhaegar said, guiding Viserys’ small fingers onto the strings. “Start simple—just one chord. Feel the vibration.”

Viserys pressed down, frowning in concentration. A discordant sound rang out, and Daenerys let out a tiny squeal. Rhaegar chuckled and adjusted his fingers gently. “Better,” he said encouragingly. “Now, again. You’ve got this.”

Rhaella’s eyes softened as she watched them, noting the patience and care in Rhaegar’s teaching. “You were always like this with your siblings,” she said quietly. “Never in a rush, never forcing anything. I have always been proud.”

Rhaegar glanced at her and nodded, continuing to guide Viserys’ fingers along the strings. “I just want them to feel confident… and safe,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else.

For a while, the room narrowed to this: a protective mother, a patient elder brother, a mischievous younger brother, and a tiny sister babbling along. Music, laughter, and warmth filled the space—a reminder that the Targaryens’ strength wasn’t just in influence or wealth, but in the bond that held them together.

Rhaegar guided Viserys’ small fingers along the guitar strings again, patient and steady. The boy’s brows furrowed in concentration, his tongue peeking out at the corner of his mouth.

“Not quite,” Rhaegar said softly, adjusting Viserys’ grip, “but closer. Feel the vibration in your fingers. That’s music.”

Viserys pressed down again, and this time, the chord rang out cleanly. His eyes went wide, and he let out a triumphant whoop.

“I did it! I really did it!” he shouted, jumping up and nearly tipping the guitar in excitement.

Daenerys responded with a high-pitched gurgle, tiny hands waving as if applauding her older brother’s success. Rhaegar laughed, scooping her up in one arm, cradling her while keeping the guitar balanced.

“You see, little sister?” he said with a grin. “Practice pays off.” He strummed the chord again, this time letting the vibration resonate through the room.

Viserys clapped enthusiastically, nearly tripping over himself, while Rhaella, seated gracefully nearby, let out a soft laugh that carried authority and warmth all at once.

“I suppose someone’s been paying attention,” she said, her eyes on Viserys’ determined expression. “Careful, though—this is only the beginning. One chord doesn’t make a musician.”

Viserys puffed his chest, pretending to look offended. “I’m already a musician!”

Rhaegar shook his head, smiling indulgently. “One chord, little brother. One chord. The rest comes with patience… and practice.”

Daenerys cooed again, reaching for the strings as if she wanted to play herself. Rhaegar held her closer, humming the melody he had been singing, letting her tiny fingers brush against the wood. Her giggles rang through the room like bells, and Rhaella’s smile softened further.

“You’ve always had a way with them,” Rhaella murmured, her eyes glinting with pride. “Gentle, patient… protective.”

Rhaegar’s gaze flicked to her, a faint blush warming his cheeks. “I just want them to feel safe. Confident. Loved.”

Viserys, still bouncing in excitement, tried the chord again, producing a slightly wobbly note that made Daenerys squeal in delight. Rhaegar laughed, adjusting his fingers once more. “That’s it, little brother. Keep trying.”

By the time Viserys finally managed to strum the chord properly twice in a row, his face was flushed with pride. Daenerys babbled happily, cooing in rhythm to the music. Rhaella leaned back in her chair, eyes gleaming with amusement and pride.

“You two make quite the pair,” she said softly, glancing between her children. “And you, Rhaegar… you’ve always been their anchor, haven’t you?”

Rhaegar looked down at Daenerys resting against him, then at Viserys bouncing excitedly. “I try,” he said simply, letting the warmth of the room fill him. “They deserve it… they deserve the best of me.”

For a few quiet moments, the living room was filled with laughter, music, and the contented babbling of a baby. Outside, the sun streamed in, gilding the edges of the silk drapes and the polished furniture. Inside, the Targaryens’ bond was on full display—a reminder that wealth and influence mattered little compared to family, care, and the simple moments of joy they shared.

Finally, Viserys flopped onto the sofa, exhausted but triumphant. “I did it, Rhaegar! I really did it!”

Rhaegar set the guitar aside, leaning back against the armrest. “Yes, you did. And you’ll do even more tomorrow. But for now… let’s bask in your victory.”

Daenerys yawned and snuggled closer, her tiny hand curling around Rhaegar’s finger. Rhaella shook her head with a gentle laugh, rising to fetch a tray of breakfast treats from the nearby staff-served table.

Rhaegar’s eyes softened as he watched her move—commanding, confident, yet entirely doting in her own way. The morning stretched on in easy, golden harmony: music, laughter, and the unspoken assurance that their family, no matter how chaotic, would always be their safe harbor.

The Iron Throne Conglomerate – King’s Landing

The afternoon sun glinted off the sleek glass walls of the Iron Throne boardroom as Rhaegar sat across from his father, Aerys. A stack of reports lay neatly in front of him, though his attention flicked between the pages and the way his father leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers with that familiar, assessing gaze.

“You’ve been at this long enough, Rhaegar,” Aerys said, voice smooth but carrying the weight of authority. “But tell me… how are you handling it?”

Rhaegar met his father’s eyes evenly. “I’m learning, Father. Every day brings something new—another challenge, another negotiation…”

Aerys tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Ah yes, the eager student. Still trying to impress your old man?”

Rhaegar allowed a small smile. “Always, dad. One never stops learning from you.”

“Good,” Aerys replied, leaning forward. “You know, I don’t just care about the deals or the numbers. It’s people who make this whole thing work. And family… well, you understand that better than most.”

Rhaegar nodded. “I do. That’s why I pay attention—not just to the business, but the people behind it.”

Aerys’ eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and fondness. “Speaking of which… Lyanna Stark. How’s she faring? You two spent some time together in the Riverlands, didn’t you?”

Rhaegar blinked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “She’s well, Father. She’s remarkable—smart, driven, and… considerate. It’s easy to see why everyone in the North speaks so highly of her.”

Aerys leaned back, the smirk widening. “I’ve known Lyanna since she was born. Your mother was there when she came into this world. She’s always had that spark—strong, independent, yet warm. You’re lucky to have her in your life, Rhaegar. And I’m glad to see that you both appreciate what you have.”

Rhaegar chuckled softly. “We do. She’s… exceptional, Father.”

“Good,” Aerys said, steepling his fingers again. “I just hope you remember: anything worth having requires patience and understanding. That applies in business… and in matters of the heart. The Starks and the Targaryens have long been friends. I’ve seen enough to know when two people can truly support one another. I think you two have that potential—but the small details matter, Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar allowed himself a quiet laugh, thinking of Lyanna’s teasing remarks and the way she managed to challenge him without even trying. Even in the North, her presence had a way of centering him, reminding him of what mattered beyond spreadsheets and forecasts.

“I understand, Father,” Rhaegar replied, feeling the warmth of familiarity in his father’s words. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Aerys leaned closer, the faintest teasing glint in his eyes. “And don’t think I won’t notice those little messages lighting up your phone. I see the way your posture changes after you spend time with her. Consider it a reminder: responsibility isn’t just about meetings or projections.”

Rhaegar’s lips quirked. “I… suppose some things are worth paying attention to.”

Aerys allowed the conversation to drift seamlessly back into business strategy, discussing Dragonstone Hotels’ quarterly results and the coastal expansion plan. But even as they reviewed profits and projections, Aerys skillfully wove in lessons about negotiation, leadership, and foresight. He slipped in subtle observations about patience and human nature, always reminding Rhaegar that running a conglomerate was as much about people as it was about numbers.

By the time Rhaegar gathered the final documents and left the boardroom, the city’s noise outside reminded him how different King’s Landing felt from the quiet of the North. Yet lessons from both places intertwined—strategy, patience, understanding, and trust.

Walking through the sunlit corridors of Iron Throne Conglomerate, he let his mind wander to Lyanna once more. Even amidst forecasts and schedules, she lingered at the edge of his thoughts—the way she carried herself, confident yet grounded, reminded him of the kind of leadership that truly mattered—not just in business, but in life.

By the time he reached his private office, the city’s noise was a distant murmur behind the thick windows. Rhaegar settled into his chair, opening his phone. He stared at the screen for a moment, thinking of the message he wanted to send. Something casual, something that acknowledged the day’s lessons without weighing too heavily.

“Just finished the afternoon with Father… thinking about perspective, responsibility, and patience. Hope your day’s going well. Would love to hear from you when you have a moment.”

He typed, deleted, and typed again. Finally, satisfied, he hit send. A small smile tugged at his lips, imagining Lyanna reading the message and maybe rolling her eyes at his slightly formal tone.

Rhaegar leaned back, letting the sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling window wash over him. Moments like these—quiet, reflective, bridging the worlds of duty and heart—were rare. And for a fleeting second, he allowed himself to imagine the conversations he and Lyanna would have later, the laughter, the debates, the gentle teasing that always seemed to follow them.

Even in a city like King’s Landing, surrounded by power, politics, and expectations, there were still pieces of life that were purely his own. And some of those pieces, he realized, were worth cherishing.

A Few Days Later…

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall office windows, casting a warm glow across the polished surfaces of the Iron Throne boardroom. Rhaegar sat back in his chair, reviewing reports, when a familiar shadow crossed the doorway.

“Rhaegar,” Arthur Dayne’s voice called, calm but deliberate. “Got a moment?”

“Of course,” Rhaegar replied, setting aside the papers. “Come in.”

Arthur stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. His usual easy demeanor carried a subtle sharpness today, an expectation that something would be extracted from this conversation.

“I wanted to ask about… Lyanna,” Arthur began, leaning casually against the desk. “You’ve spent time with her in the Riverlands. How’s it going? I mean… you two seem to work well together.”

Rhaegar considered carefully, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “She’s remarkable. Smart, focused, and thoughtful. I respect her greatly. And yes, we get along well.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed just slightly, a flicker of curiosity in them. “And Brandon… what does he think of it all? You know him—he’s protective of his family. Does he approve, or is he cautious?”

Rhaegar gave a neutral shrug. “He respects her abilities and sees her value, as I do. He doesn’t need to say more than that. But I was actually surprised when he bluntly asked me as to when I would have the courage to ask Lyanna out.”

Arthur frowned slightly, leaning back in his chair. “Wait… he actually asked you that? And you didn’t tell me?” His voice was half incredulous, half exasperated. “I mean… we’re both his friends, but still… asking you about Lyanna? And not giving me a heads-up?”

Rhaegar chuckled, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Oh, he didn’t bother telling you because you’ve been sulking about Elia, of all things. Typical Brandon—he’d rather not stir the pot while you’re brooding.”

Arthur’s lips twitched, a mix of amusement and mild frustration. “Seriously? That boy…”

Rhaegar smirked. “Yes, seriously. But don’t worry—you’ll get your chance. Just maybe after you stop moping so much.”

Arthur’s hands tightened briefly on the edge of the desk before he let them fall into his lap. “Rhaegar… I’ve been circling around this for years. And I suppose you already know, but I can’t keep avoiding it any longer.”

Rhaegar’s eyes softened, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I do. I’ve known for some time, Arthur.”

Arthur exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “I love her, Rhaegar. I’ve loved her for years. And yet… I feel as if I’m constantly waiting—waiting to be ready, waiting to know the right moment. And maybe, I’m afraid of what will happen if I finally act.”

Rhaegar nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Love isn’t a puzzle to solve, Arthur. It’s something you act on with honesty and respect. You’ve already done half the work by knowing your own heart. The rest… is courage.”

Arthur let a small, rueful smile escape. “Courage. Right. Easier said than done.”

“But necessary,” Rhaegar said gently. “You care deeply, and that matters more than any hesitation. If you truly love her, she’ll see it. Sometimes… that’s all it takes.”

Arthur allowed himself a long, contemplative silence, staring at the papers in front of him but thinking of Elia instead. “You’re right. I suppose I just need to find the right way to show her. Not in grand gestures… but in truth. That I am willing to take the risk. That I am hers, if she’ll have me.”

Rhaegar smiled knowingly, the warmth between them comfortable and familiar. “Then it’s decided. Observe, act honestly, and let time work in your favor. You’ve got the heart, Arthur. The rest… will follow.”

Arthur nodded, letting himself relax, finally feeling some clarity in a situation that had long weighed on him. And even as the conversation shifted back to business matters and subtle observations of their friends and family, the admission lingered—a quiet, unshakable truth he could no longer deny.

Arthur shifted slightly in his chair, letting his gaze linger on Rhaegar for a beat longer than usual. “Speaking of honesty and hearts… there’s one more thing I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Rhaegar arched an eyebrow, sensing the careful phrasing. “Go on.”

“It’s about Brandon,” Arthur said, his tone measured, almost casual. “And… Ashara.” He paused, letting the names settle between them. “I have a feeling something’s going on, but he hasn’t told me. Have you noticed anything? Anything unusual about the way he acts around her?”

Rhaegar’s eyes flickered briefly, a shadow of understanding passing over his face. “Brandon and Ashara?” he asked, neutral but attentive.

Arthur leaned back slightly, steepling his fingers. “Yes. I’m her older brother—I should know if someone’s involved with her. But he refuses to tell me, and I don’t want to confront him blindly. You’ve known Brandon longer than I have… anything you’ve observed?”

Rhaegar considered carefully. “He’s protective, cautious… stubborn. That sounds like Brandon. If he’s keeping something from you, it’s probably to shield Ashara rather than to deceive you. He trusts you, Arthur—he just doesn’t know how you’ll react. Remember it’s not easy to deal with being involved with someone who is actually closely related to your best friend. Especially, a younger sister.”

Arthur exhaled, a quiet mix of irritation and resignation in his expression. “Protective, yes—but secrets have a way of complicating things. I don’t want to overstep, but I also don’t want to be kept out of the loop regarding my own sister.”

Rhaegar gave him a faint, reassuring smile. “He’ll tell you when the time is right. Brandon values honesty, but he also values discretion, especially where Ashara’s well-being is concerned. You’ll know soon enough—patience will be key.”

Arthur nodded slowly, accepting the answer without pressing further, though his mind lingered on the possibilities. “Patience… yes. I suppose I’ll have to trust that he’ll do the right thing in his own time.”

Rhaegar chuckled softly. “And sometimes, the simplest truths take the longest to surface.”

Arthur offered a small, wry smile. “Resigned, then. I’ll wait. But I’ll be watching—carefully.”

Rhaegar leaned back in his chair after Arthur had finally left, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He let his thoughts drift, replaying the conversation in fragments—the teasing, the probing, the subtle truths revealed. He knew both Arthur and Brandon better than most, understood their strengths, their vulnerabilities, and the unspoken rules they lived by. As he stared out the window at the city sprawling beneath the golden afternoon sun, a quiet satisfaction settled over him. He felt the balance of friendship, loyalty, and honesty—fragile yet steadfast—and the weight of knowing when to guide, when to observe, and when to simply let time reveal its lessons. And for now, he was content to simply watch, listen, and trust that everything would unfold as it should. 

The Targaryen residence glowed softly under the amber hues of early evening. The long dining table gleamed beneath the chandelier’s light, its surface lined with crystal glasses and silver cutlery. The faint scent of roasted lamb and lemon butter filled the air — a smell that always meant home.

Rhaella Targaryen sat gracefully at the head of the table, Daenerys nestled in her arms. The baby cooed and gurgled happily, batting at the soft strand of pearls around her mother’s neck. Every so often, Rhaella would hum under her breath, her tone soft and lilting — one of those melodies that could calm any storm.

Across from her, Aerys leafed lazily through a stack of business journals even as he nursed a glass of wine. “Hmph,” he murmured, eyes scanning the page. “Looks like Rickard’s breaking ground on that new Wintertown residential complex. Property development — the Starks’ favorite game.”

Rhaella smiled faintly without looking up. “You say that as if you didn’t co-sign half the investors.”

Aerys glanced up with a sly grin. “What can I say? If you can’t beat them, join them — or better yet, make a profit off their success.”

“That’s called friendship,” Rhaella replied smoothly, adjusting Dany in her arms. “Or meddling. You choose.”

Before Aerys could retort, a familiar voice called from the doorway.

“Talking business before dinner again, Father?”

Rhaegar entered, tie loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows — the picture of composed exhaustion after a long day at the Iron Throne offices. He bent to kiss Rhaella’s cheek and then the top of Dany’s tiny head, smiling as the baby blinked up at him.

“Evening, mum. dad.”

“You’re late,” Aerys said, though there was amusement behind the mild reprimand.

“Barely ten minutes,” Rhaegar replied, taking his seat. “Arthur wanted to review the reports again before I left.”

Viserys, already halfway through his meal, grinned. “Arthur always wants to review something. You two must spend more time with spreadsheets than actual people.”

“Some of us work, Viserys,” Rhaegar said smoothly, sitting down beside Rhaella.

Viserys pointed his fork at him. “And some of us are training to run our own branch. I call that initiative. If I were in charge, I’d make meetings twice as short and twice as fun.”

“You’d also forget half the agenda,” Rhaegar said, reaching for the breadbasket.

Viserys puffed up indignantly. “I would not! I’m training to run my own branch someday — Targaryen Real Estate. I call that initiative”

Rhaella hid a laugh behind her napkin. “Your brother calls that talking.”

“Diplomacy, Mother,” Viserys said with mock seriousness. “I’m practicing for when I have to negotiate on behalf of House Targaryen Real Estate.”

“You’re not managing anything until you can balance a checkbook,” Aerys said, his voice dry but fond. “And no, allowance doesn’t count. Also, you’re ten”

“Almost eleven,” Viserys corrected, undeterred.

“You can’t even sit through a full meeting without fidgeting,” Aerys said, though his eyes were fond. “Your ‘branch’ can wait until you can manage your allowance without losing it under your bed.”

“It was one time,” Viserys muttered, earning soft laughter from the table.

Dinner flowed easily after that — the kind of natural rhythm that only existed in homes where affection ran deep beneath the teasing. Aerys occasionally threw in dry remarks about company affairs, while Rhaella steered the conversation back toward family whenever it threatened to turn into a board meeting.

“So,” she said lightly, glancing at Rhaegar as she set down her glass. “How’s Lyanna these days? I saw her in that business feature last week — she’s really come into her own.”

Rhaegar’s fork paused midair. “She’s doing very well. Focused, confident… She’s made a name for herself in NorthStark’s projects.”

Aerys nodded thoughtfully. “Rickard must be proud. That girl’s sharp — she always was. I remember when your mother and I visited Winterfell; she couldn’t have been older than five, and she insisted on showing me her toy blueprint of the family estate. I don’t think she actually remembered that.”

Rhaella’s expression softened. “Lyarra would have been proud of her. She’s always reminded me of her mother.”

Viserys, never one to let sentiment linger too long, grinned impishly. “And she makes Rhaegar smile every time her name comes up.”

Rhaegar shot him a look. “I smile plenty, Viserys.”

“Not like that,” the boy said with exaggerated innocence.

Aerys, who’d been quietly observing, finally spoke with an amused sigh. “You should know better than to corner him, Viserys. You sound like your mother when she’s trying to fish information from Rickard.”

Rhaella lifted her brows, unbothered. “And yet I always get it.”

That drew laughter from everyone, even Rhaegar, who shook his head while Viserys giggled uncontrollably. Baby Daenerys squealed as if joining in, clapping her tiny hands, which only made Rhaella beam brighter.

As dessert was served — lemon tart and coffee for the adults, a scoop of ice cream for Viserys — the atmosphere mellowed into something comfortable and warm.

Aerys leaned back in his chair, watching his family with quiet satisfaction. “You know,” he said suddenly, “the Starks aren’t just our friends — they’re proof that good partnerships go beyond business. When two families share trust, loyalty, and history, there’s nothing they can’t build together.”

Rhaella reached over, brushing her fingers against his wrist. “That almost sounded sentimental, dear.”

“Almost,” Aerys replied dryly, lifting his wineglass. “Don’t tell Rickard. He’ll never let me live it down.”

Rhaegar chuckled softly, glancing at his parents — his father’s feigned sternness, his mother’s quiet grace, his brother’s restless energy, and the peaceful weight of the sleeping Dany in Rhaella’s arms.

This was what grounded him. For all the mergers, acquisitions, and expectations waiting beyond those walls — this was home.

Later, when the meal had ended and the others had drifted off — Viserys chasing the cat down the hall, Aerys retreating to his study, Rhaella humming softly as she carried Dany upstairs — Rhaegar lingered at the window, watching the city lights shimmer against the bay.

He thought of the Starks. Of Lyanna. Of the way his father spoke of bonds that lasted generations.

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

Some bonds, he thought, didn’t just last — they shaped everything that came after.

Rhaella returned to the dining room a few minutes later, finding Aerys still at the table, swirling the last of his wine. She smiled knowingly as she sat beside him.

“You saw the way he looked when I mentioned Lyanna,” she said softly.

Aerys didn’t look up, only gave a quiet chuckle. “I did. And here I thought the boy had mastered the art of hiding his thoughts.”

“He gets that from you,” she teased.

He snorted. “Please. If he got it from me, no one would suspect a thing.”

Rhaella laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Let him have this, Aerys. It’s nice to see him smile again.”

For a moment, Aerys said nothing, just watched the light flicker across the tablecloth. Then he set his glass down and murmured, almost to himself,

“Just so long as he doesn’t forget who he is — and where he belongs.”

Rhaella reached over, her fingers brushing his hand. “He won’t.”

Aerys nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Let’s hope not. I rather like the idea of having a Stark in the family.”

Rhaella’s laughter was soft and knowing. “So do I.”

Chapter Text

Robert’s penthouse in Eyrie

It was already eight in the morning when Robert Baratheon woke up with a pounding headache and the sour taste of whiskey still clinging to his tongue. His head throbbed with each heartbeat, and the sunlight streaming through the blinds felt like punishment.

He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes, muttering a curse under his breath. The sheets smelled of perfume, liquor, and regret. When he finally pushed himself upright, the movement made his vision tilt, and that’s when he noticed them—two women sprawled across the bed, tangled in the blanket, both fast asleep.

“What the fuck happened last night?” he muttered gruffly, running a hand over his face.

Bits and pieces came back to him: shots, loud music, the VIP section of the club, someone daring him to jump into the pool with his shirt still on, flashes of laughter, flashes of skin. Nothing concrete. Just chaos—his usual brand of it.

His phone buzzed from somewhere under a pile of clothes. He dug it out and squinted at the screen. Thirty-two missed calls. Half were from his assistant. The rest—from his father.

“Shit.”

He stumbled out of bed, looking for his pants, and tripped over an empty champagne bottle. One of the women stirred. He froze for a second, then sighed and pulled on whatever shirt he could find. The smell of alcohol clung to him like a bad decision.

By the time he stepped out of the hotel suite, sunglasses on and headache roaring, his phone rang again. This time, he answered.

“Robert Baratheon,” he rasped.

“Don’t ‘Robert’ me,” came his father’s sharp voice. “Get your ass home. Now. You’ve crossed the line this time.”

Robert frowned. “It was just a party, Dad. You’re overreacting.”

“There’s a photo of you and two women trending on Westeros Society Daily!” Steffon snapped. “You’re drunk, half-dressed, and apparently trying to fight a security guard! The Targaryens called us this morning. Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for our family?”

Robert’s smirk faltered. “The Targs? Why the hell would they care?”

“Because their name is being dragged again into your circus!” his father hissed. “They warned us, Robert—warned us—that this is the last time they’ll tolerate being associated with your behavior. You’re coming home to Storm’s End, effective immediately. No arguments.”

Robert pressed his fingers against his temple, trying to piece it together. The Targaryens. Rhaegar. Lyanna Stark. Just the sound of her name made something sour churn in his chest.

“You’re serious?” he muttered.

“I’m beyond serious,” his father said coldly. “You’ve humiliated yourself and this family for the last time.”

The line went dead before Robert could answer.

He stood there for a moment in the hallway, the noise of the city below muffled by thick glass. Then, with a bitter laugh, he slid his phone into his pocket and muttered, “Guess the storm finally hit home.” 

Storm’s End

The flight from the Eyrie to Storm’s End had been mercifully short but miserable. Robert spent most of it hungover, staring blankly out the plane window as the coastline blurred beneath him. His temples pounded with every beat of his heart. By the time the car rolled through the long drive up to the Baratheon estate — the crashing waves below, the heavy gray clouds above — the dread had settled deep in his gut.

He hated being summoned like a child.

The housekeeper met him at the door.

“Your parents are waiting in the study, Mr. Baratheon.”

Of course they were. They always were.

Robert tossed his sunglasses on the console and walked down the hall, his boots echoing against the marble floor. The study door was already open.

Steffon stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back, posture straight as a soldier. Cassana sat on the couch, her expression a mixture of concern and quiet reproach.

“Robert,” Steffon began without turning. “You took your time.”

“I came as fast as I could,” Robert muttered. “Had work to finish at the Eyrie.”

Steffon finally turned. His gaze was sharp, assessing — not that of a disappointed father anymore, but a man who’d reached the end of his patience.

“Work,” he repeated flatly. “That’s generous. From what I hear, your ‘work’ has been the nightclubs of Gulltown and the company of strangers.”

Robert exhaled heavily. “So this is about that again. Look, I had a drink, alright? I blew off steam. I didn’t kill anyone.”

“No,” Steffon said, his voice cool, “but you’ve killed your own reputation — and ours along with it.”

Robert scoffed. “Oh, come on—”

“You were seen stumbling out of a club with two women, Robert,” Steffon pressed on, voice rising. “Neighbors filed noise complaints. Your face is plastered all over social media again. You’re a grown man, not some college boy on spring break!”

“People exaggerate!” Robert snapped. “Everyone makes mistakes!”

Steffon’s expression hardened. “This isn’t about a single mistake. This is years — years — of reckless behavior, of drunkenness, of scandals, of excuses. And last week, you crossed a line even you can’t charm your way out of.”

Robert fell silent.

“The incident at the Dragonstone Hotel,” Steffon continued. “You struck Lyanna Stark. In front of her own family. And now, thanks to that, the Targaryens have personally come to this house to tell us they’re severing all ties. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?”

Robert’s jaw clenched. “That was Brandon’s fault. He provoked me, same as always—”

“Enough,” Steffon barked. “Do not twist this to make yourself the victim again. You’ve done that your entire life, and I’ve allowed it long enough.”

Cassana stood then, voice trembling but protective. “Steffon, please—Robert didn’t mean—”

He turned to her sharply. “Cassana, stop.”

Her mouth fell slightly open.

“I’ve listened to your excuses for him since he was a teenager,” Steffon said, his tone shaking with contained anger. “Every time he gets drunk, you say he’s stressed. Every time he embarrasses himself, you say he’s misunderstood. Every time he hurts someone, you say he didn’t mean it. You’ve coddled him so much he can no longer tell right from wrong.”

Cassana’s eyes filled with tears. “He’s our son.”

“He was my heir,” Steffon said coldly.

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Robert froze.

“What did you just say?” he demanded.

“You heard me.” Steffon’s voice was steady now, final. “Effective immediately, you are no longer the heir to this family or its enterprises. That position will go to Stannis.”

Robert’s face drained of color. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” Steffon replied. “Stannis may not have your charm, but he has something far more valuable — restraint, integrity, responsibility. Qualities you’ve thrown away.”

Robert took a step forward, fury rising in his chest. “You’re replacing me with Stannis? The emotionless robot? He couldn’t lead a team meeting without reading from a script!”

“At least he shows up sober,” Steffon shot back.

Robert’s voice broke with anger. “You always loved him more! You both did. The perfect son, the obedient soldier. Meanwhile, I’m the disappointment, the burden—”

“You made yourself that way,” Steffon said, his voice cutting through the air like glass. “Don’t you dare blame anyone else for the man you’ve become.”

Cassana finally spoke, her tone trembling. “Steffon, please—this isn’t the way. Robert just needs—”

“He needs consequences,” Steffon interrupted. “Something he’s never truly had, thanks to you.”

Cassana flinched as though struck.

Robert looked between them, his anger melting into disbelief. “So that’s it, then? You strip me of everything and think that’ll fix me? You think Stannis can replace me?”

“I think,” Steffon said quietly, “that Stannis already has.”

Robert’s chest rose and fell sharply. He wanted to yell, to curse, to break something — anything — but the words wouldn’t come.

“You’re not being disowned,” Steffon continued. “You’ll keep your shares, your name. But your position, your authority, your privileges — they’re gone until you can prove you deserve them. Until you can prove you’re a Baratheon, not just by blood, but by honor.”

Robert’s throat tightened. “You’ll regret this.”

“Perhaps,” Steffon said. “But I’ve already spent years regretting what I didn’t do sooner.”

Robert turned and stormed toward the door, his footsteps heavy and uneven. Before he left, he paused, his voice low and venomous.

“You always did love Stannis more. At least now you don’t have to pretend.”

The door slammed shut.

Cassana sank into the couch, silent tears streaming down her face. Steffon stood unmoving, staring out the window at the gray sea below, his reflection dim in the glass.

For the first time in years, the storm inside Storm’s End was quieter than the one within its walls. 

Robert didn’t remember storming out of the study. He barely remembered slamming the door or ignoring his mother’s voice calling after him. All he could feel was the burning pulse of humiliation under his skin — his father’s words echoing in his head like a hammer.

You are no longer the heir.

The phrase repeated itself with every step he took down the hallway. His breathing was ragged; his fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white. He needed to break something, needed to hurt something.

Then he saw Stannis.

His brother stood near the terrace doors, going through a stack of folders — reports, figures, schedules. The same tedious work that had always bored Robert to death. He looked up, startled when he saw Robert marching toward him.

“Robert,” Stannis said, frowning slightly. “You’re back.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know,” Robert spat.

Stannis blinked. “Know what?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb, Stannis. You think I don’t see it? You’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life.” Robert’s tone dripped with venom. “Father finally hands you the throne, and you’re pretending to be surprised?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stannis said evenly. “I’ve been in a meeting since breakfast.”

Robert barked out a bitter laugh. “Of course you have. Perfect, dutiful Stannis, always in a meeting. Always following rules. Always ready to take what’s mine the second I slip.”

“Robert—”

“Don’t Robert me!” he shouted. “You’ve always wanted this — the company, the seat, the power. Well, congratulations. Father just gave it to you!”

Stannis froze, the papers in his hands faltering. “What?”

Robert’s laugh turned sharp. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. He said it himself — I’m out. You’re in. You’re the new heir.”

For a moment, Stannis simply stared at him. Then he exhaled slowly, setting the folders on the table.

“I didn’t ask for that,” he said quietly.

“Oh, spare me the noble act.” Robert took a step closer, face inches away. “You think this is some burden? Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying every second of it.”

Stannis’s jaw tightened. “Enjoying what? Watching you ruin yourself?”

Robert’s expression flickered — anger, guilt, rage again. “You think you’re better than me?”

“I think,” Stannis said, voice rising just slightly, “that you’ve been given every chance a man could ask for, and you’ve wasted them all.”

Robert’s fist slammed against the wall beside Stannis’s head, making the younger man flinch but not move away.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!”

“I will,” Stannis snapped back, surprising even himself. “Because someone has to! You drink yourself stupid, you humiliate our name, you hurt people — and still think the world owes you sympathy!”

Robert glared at him, chest heaving. For a moment, it looked like he might swing.

But he didn’t. He just took a step back, his voice shaking.

“You sound just like him.”

“Maybe because he’s right,” Stannis said quietly.

Robert stared at him — eyes bloodshot, expression twisted between fury and heartbreak. Then, with a bitter scoff, he turned away.

“Enjoy the crown, little brother. Hope it keeps you warm at night.”

He walked off before Stannis could answer, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Stannis remained still for a moment, breathing out slowly, then looked toward the window where waves crashed against the cliffs below.

He didn’t want this. But like everything else in the Baratheon household, choice was rarely part of the equation.

Stannis stayed there for a long moment, staring at the door Robert had stormed through. The tension still hung in the air, thick and bitter. He hated it — the shouting, the chaos, the endless cycle of Robert’s mistakes and their parents’ arguments. None of it ever changed.

Finally, he gathered the papers he’d dropped, straightened his posture, and headed back toward the study. He found his father behind the massive oak desk, shoulders heavy, eyes fixed on the window overlooking the sea.

Steffon didn’t look up right away when Stannis entered. He only spoke when he heard the door click shut.

“I take it he knows.”

Stannis hesitated. “He does. I didn’t… I didn’t know you meant to tell him now.”

Steffon sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t plan to. But your brother leaves me no choice anymore.” His tone softened slightly. “You shouldn’t have had to hear it this way.”

Stannis nodded stiffly. “So it’s true then. I’m to take over.”

“For now, yes,” Steffon replied. “You’ll assume the responsibilities as acting head once I step down. Robert has proven he cannot be trusted with the family’s name, much less its future.”

Stannis’s expression barely changed, but the weight of the words settled deep in his chest. “And Mother?”

“Cassana knows,” Steffon said with a weary shake of his head. “She’ll fight it, as always. But I’ve made my decision. And for once, she will not sway me.”

Silence stretched between them — only the sound of the sea wind filling the room.

Stannis swallowed hard. “I never wanted this to happen like this.”

“I know,” Steffon said gently. “Neither did I. But wanting and needing are rarely the same thing, my boy. I need you to steady this family. Bring order where your brother brings chaos.”

Stannis nodded slowly, feeling both pride and sorrow twist together. “I’ll do what’s necessary.”

“I know you will.”

Steffon stood, placing a firm hand on his son’s shoulder — the first genuine gesture of fatherly pride Stannis could remember in years. “You’ve always done what’s right, even when no one noticed. That’s what this family needs now. Stability.”

Outside, thunder rumbled faintly across the distant sea — a storm building on the horizon, dark and heavy.

Inside Storm’s End, one storm had just begun to settle… and another was waiting to break.

The rain had started again, light but steady, a rhythm against the tall windows of Storm’s End. Stannis sat behind his father’s old oak desk, the glow from the lamp catching the sharp angles of his face. The silence was heavy — the kind that pressed into the ribs and refused to leave.

He stared at the phone for several minutes before finally reaching for it.

After a few rings, a familiar calm voice answered.

“Rhaegar Targaryen speaking.”

“Rhaegar,” Stannis said, his tone even, though weariness tugged at its edges. “It’s Stannis Baratheon.”

There was a brief pause on the other end — not out of surprise, but calculation.

“Stannis. It’s been a while,” Rhaegar said, voice composed but warm enough. “What can I do for you?”

Stannis leaned back slightly, fingers drumming once against the desk. “I’m not calling for pleasantries. You should know what’s happening here, before it turns into something worse.”

“I’m listening.”

“Father has finally done it,” Stannis continued, blunt as ever. “He’s stripped Robert of his position as heir. As of this evening, I’m to take over Baratheon Holdings.”

A quiet exhale came through the line. “That’s… significant news.”

“It is,” Stannis said simply. “And it won’t sit well with him. You know how he is. He won’t take accountability — he’ll find someone to blame, and I suspect your name will be one of them.”

Rhaegar’s silence was brief, thoughtful. “Because of what happened in the Riverlands.”

“Because of what happened everywhere,” Stannis corrected flatly. “He’s been spiraling for months. The incident with Lyanna only pushed Father to the edge. And you were there. You handled it — but Robert sees that as interference. He’ll twist it.”

Rhaegar nodded faintly to himself, even though Stannis couldn’t see him. “I appreciate the warning, Stannis. Truly.”

“I’m not doing this for your gratitude,” Stannis said curtly. “I’m doing it because I’d rather not have to clean up another one of his messes when it finally explodes. Consider this a professional courtesy… and a familial one.”

There was a flicker of something like amusement in Rhaegar’s tone. “Spoken like a man already burdened by responsibility.”

Stannis didn’t return the humor. “Responsibility is better than recklessness. Father’s had enough of that to last him a lifetime.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze falling to the old family crest engraved into the desk. “I don’t expect this to stay quiet. If Robert reaches out to you or your family, don’t engage. He’ll come in angry, and he’ll want to drag everyone down with him.”

“Understood,” Rhaegar replied. “And Stannis… for what it’s worth, I think your father made the right decision.”

Stannis let out a quiet, humorless breath. “Right decision or not, it’s going to cost us all something.”

There was mutual understanding in the silence that followed — two men shaped by duty, standing on opposite sides of a family storm.

“Take care of yourself, Stannis,” Rhaegar said finally. “And your brother — when you can.”

“I’ve been doing that my whole life,” Stannis said dryly, then ended the call.

He sat there for a long time afterward, the sound of rain filling the space around him. For the first time, Storm’s End felt too big — too heavy with the echoes of what his brother had broken and what he would now have to mend. 

Later That Night – Robert’s Wing, Storm’s End

Robert sat alone in the dim light of his suite, the amber glow from a half-finished bottle of whiskey catching the edges of his reflection in the glass wall that overlooked the dark coast. The sea below roared like it always did — violent, unyielding — and for once, he felt the same way.

His tie was undone, shirt half-buttoned, knuckles still red from slamming the wall earlier. The echo of his father’s words wouldn’t leave him — “You’re no longer the heir, Robert.”

He took another swallow of whiskey, the burn dulling nothing.

“Replaced,” he muttered, a bitter laugh escaping him. “By Stannis, of all people.”

He stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal. “Cold, boring, lifeless Stannis. The man couldn’t inspire a dog to bark, and Father thinks he can run a business?” His voice rose, filled with derision, but beneath it — a flicker of fear.

Because deep down, Robert knew Steffon wasn’t bluffing this time.

He kicked aside a chair, the crash echoing sharply. “This is Cassana’s fault,” he growled under his breath, though his mother had only tried to comfort him. “Always letting him talk to me like that, always making excuses for him.”

But his anger couldn’t find a steady target — it kept shifting, circling back to everyone but himself.

Rhaegar. Stannis. Even Lyanna.

Especially Lyanna.

He grabbed his phone from the desk and stared at the blank screen, the urge to call someone — anyone — clawing at him. But who? Most of his so-called friends only stuck around for his name, his money, his temper when it was entertaining. Not when it was pathetic.

His thumb hovered over Rhaegar’s contact, jaw tightening.

“Bet he’s laughing about this,” Robert muttered. “Perfect prince, perfect career, perfect everything.” He scoffed, setting the phone down hard. “He’s always been the golden one. Now Father wants his own version of Rhaegar in the family — and that’s Stannis.”

He slumped into the couch, hands buried in his hair. For a long while, the only sound was the storm outside and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

Then, slowly, his breathing evened. His expression hardened. The pain shifted into something uglier — determination twisted by ego.

“They think they can just take it all away from me,” he muttered, almost whispering. “They forget who made Baratheon Holdings what it is. Who carried the name. Who everyone knows.” He smirked, the kind of smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s see how long their little empire lasts without me.”

He reached for his phone again — but this time, not to call Rhaegar.

He scrolled through his contacts, stopping at a familiar name. Someone from The Vale — someone whose loyalty leaned more toward convenience than ethics.

“Yeah,” he said under his breath, the smirk deepening. “Let’s see how they like it when I take something back.”

The call rang once. Twice. Then connected.

“Still up?” Robert said smoothly, almost too casually. “Good. I’ve got a proposal for you. Something the board at The Vale would love to hear.”

He leaned back as he talked, his tone regaining that false confidence he wore like armor. The storm outside intensified, waves crashing against the cliffs — as if the sea itself could sense what was coming.

And though Robert didn’t have a real plan yet — just anger, pride, and a deep, festering need to prove everyone wrong — he convinced himself that was enough.

Because in his mind, it always was.

The storm outside had grown violent, waves crashing against the cliffs below the estate like nature itself was furious. Robert stood before the tall glass windows of his room, the phone still in his hand, its screen gone dark. His reflection stared back at him — bruised, bloodshot, and hollow. But beneath that emptiness, a spark burned — the kind that never learned, never changed, only grew meaner with each fall. Thunder cracked, drowning the bitter laugh that escaped his lips. Whatever came next, he told himself, they’d regret making a fool out of Robert Baratheon.

Chapter Text

King’s Landing

The terminal was crowded, but Lyanna Stark moved with her usual poise, scanning the arrivals hall for the sleek black car waiting to take her into the city. Her flight from the North had been long, but excitement tingled beneath her composed exterior.

“Lyanna?” A familiar voice cut through the chatter.

She turned, and there he was—Rhaegar Targaryen, leaning casually against the polished hood of a car, his eyes searching until they landed on her.

“Rhaegar,” she greeted, letting a small smile escape.

He stepped forward, holding out his hand, though she shook her head, allowing him to pull her into a brief, warm hug. “It’s good to see you,” he murmured.

“You too,” she said. “A month already, isn’t it?”

“Too long,” he replied, guiding her toward the car. “Mum and dad offered you a place while you’re in the city—officially for work, but…” His gaze softened. “…I won’t complain about the company either.”

Lyanna raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “All business, of course.”

“Naturally,” he echoed, starting the engine, though a faint smirk played at his lips.

As the car glided through the streets of King’s Landing, the city alive with afternoon bustle, Lyanna allowed herself to relax slightly. She stole glances at Rhaegar as he navigated the traffic with calm precision.

“So,” she said, breaking the silence, “how’s the city treating you these days? Still drowning in meetings and presentations?”

“Somewhat,” he admitted, glancing at her. “But it’s easier when there’s a friendly face in the city.”

Lyanna laughed softly. “I suppose I’m that for you now? Officially assigned, Stark-approved companion?”

Rhaegar shot her a playful glance. “If anyone can make city life bearable, it’s you.”

“I hope you mean that professionally,” she teased, leaning back in her seat. “I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I’m here for frivolous reasons.”

“Of course,” he said, tone mock-serious. “I’m simply acknowledging your exceptional business acumen.”

Lyanna shook her head, laughing. “You’ve been practicing that line, haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” he said, smirking. “But only when the circumstances are important.”

They continued in companionable silence for a few minutes, each lost in thought but aware of the other’s presence. Finally, Lyanna glanced out the window, watching the city pass by. “It’s… different here. Busier than the North. More… intense.”

Rhaegar nodded. “It takes some getting used to. But there’s beauty in it too—the energy, the people, the opportunities. And it’s easier when someone you trust is along for the ride.”

Lyanna’s lips curved into a small smile. “I suppose that makes the chaos bearable.”

Rhaegar’s hand brushed lightly against hers as he reached for the gear shift, a silent acknowledgment of the closeness between them. Lyanna felt a subtle warmth, a promise of more moments like this in the days to come.

As the car pulled up to the Targaryen residence, Rhaegar gestured toward the grand entrance. “Welcome to the Targaryen Residence, Lyanna.”

Lyanna’s eyes widened at the sight, anticipation and excitement bubbling within her. The door opened before them, and Rhaegar’s family emerged, smiling warmly.

“Lyanna! Welcome!” Rhaella called, embracing her. “You’ve come at just the right time—Daenerys just had her morning nap, and Viserys is already full of ideas, as always.”

Viserys waved energetically. “Ready for serious training! I’ve got plans for this branch of the family empire!”

Rhaegar chuckled, leaning slightly toward Lyanna. “This little tyke, you haven’t met yet, this is my younger brother Viserys, just a ten-year-old pretending he runs the world, and the youngest of the Targaryens, Daenerys—we call her Dany—she’s just four months old.” He muttered.

Lyanna smiled knowingly.

Lyanna crouched slightly to coo at the baby, Daenerys gurgling in response. “She’s adorable,” Lyanna said softly, her heart softening.

Rhaella beamed. “We’re thrilled to have you here, Lyanna. It’s wonderful to have a Stark in the city again. Last time a Stark was it, was Brandon, and you do not want to know how much trouble those three musketeers got themselves into.”

“Mum, let’s embarrass me later, let’s get Lyanna settled in first,” Rhaegar said with a groan.

He reached for her hand, a private acknowledgment between them. “I’ll make sure you settle in properly,” he said, voice low, “and then… perhaps we can talk about more than just work.”

Lyanna allowed herself a small, conspiratorial smile. “I’ll hold you to that,” she replied, feeling the tension of the month ease just slightly.

Before Rhaegar could respond, Rhaella reminded them she’s still there, her presence graceful yet commanding. “Lyanna, we officially and finally welcome you to our home,” she said warmly. “Come, let me show you to your room. You must be tired from the journey, and you deserve a moment to freshen up before we sit for tea.”

Lyanna allowed herself to be led through the grand hallways, noting the soft hum of activity: the Targaryen household lived and breathed together, full of life and gentle chaos. She was shown to a guest suite, elegantly appointed but comfortable, with fresh linens and a view of the city below.

“You’ll find everything you need here,” Rhaella said with a kind smile. “Take your time. I’ll have afternoon tea ready, and then we can sit down and properly catch up.”

Lyanna nodded, grateful. “Thank you, Aunt Rhaella. That’s very kind.”

After a few moments to settle and freshen up, Lyanna joined the family in the sitting area. Afternoon tea had been laid out with delicate care, the gentle clink of porcelain adding a serene rhythm to the lively household.

Viserys, full of restless energy, was balancing a stack of papers while keeping an eye on Daenerys, who giggled and kicked her tiny legs in excitement.

“Lyanna!” Viserys called, nearly tripping over his own feet in excitement. “You’ll have to help me review my plans. I need someone smart to keep me in check.”

Lyanna crouched slightly, meeting him at eye level. “I think I can manage that, if you promise to actually listen.”

Rhaegar chuckled beside her. “He already thinks he’s running the world, just wait.”

Rhaella poured tea, her hands precise, the scent of freshly brewed leaves filling the room. “Tell us about your work at NorthStark, Lyanna,” she said, settling into her chair with a warm, expectant smile. “We’ve heard a little, but I want the full story.”

Lyanna sank into her seat, letting the comfort of the household and the warmth of Rhaegar’s presence wash over her. For a moment, she simply let herself breathe, the city, the flight, and the months apart fading into the background.

Viserys chattered on about his “grand northern strategies,” occasionally nudged by Rhaegar with a playful warning. Daenerys cooed and reached for Lyanna’s hand, drawing a soft smile from her.

The soft murmur of conversation was interrupted by the opening of the sitting room door. Aerys entered, briefcase in hand, still in crisp office attire despite the relaxed afternoon. His eyes immediately found Lyanna, and a warm smile spread across his face.

“Lyanna,” he said, and before she could respond, he opened his arms wide. “Come here, you’ve been away too long!”

Lyanna stepped forward without hesitation, allowing herself to be enveloped in a firm, reassuring hug. For a moment, all the chaos of travel and the months apart melted away, replaced by the warmth of close family friends.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally have you here,” Aerys said, pulling back just enough to look at her face. “How is your father? Rickard—our dearest friend?”

Lyanna smiled softly. “He’s well, Uncle Aerys. Busy, as always, but… steady. He sends his regards.”

“Good, good,” Aerys said with a satisfied nod, ruffling her hair lightly in a playful gesture. “We always worried about your southern visits—you know what they say about Starks in King’s Landing.”

Rhaella, appearing beside them, grinned and added, “And we’ve been keeping the city safe from any northern rebellion, haven’t we?”

Lyanna chuckled, shaking her head. “You two are insufferable. Always teasing me.”

“Only because we care,” Aerys replied, winking. “And because Rhaegar here has set a poor example—he lets you get away with far too much already.”

Rhaegar, standing just behind Lyanna, let out an exaggerated groan. “Father, Mother, I swear, one day you’ll drive her off before I even get a word in.”

Aerys laughed heartily, stepping back to give her a final, approving glance. “We’re thrilled to have you here, Lyanna. Truly. And don’t worry—we’ll be gentle… most of the time.”

Lyanna’s smile softened, warmth spreading through her chest. Between the embrace, the teasing, and the genuine curiosity about her father and her life, she felt fully welcomed—like part of a family she had long admired from afar.

The soft hum of the city outside grew quieter as the afternoon light faded, and soon Rhaella’s voice called from the doorway. “Dinner will be ready shortly, everyone. Time to leave the tea behind and come to the table before Viserys thinks he can train the furniture instead of himself.”

Viserys shot her an indignant look, hands on his hips. “I am a strategic commander! You’ll see one day!”

Rhaegar chuckled, sliding his hand into Lyanna’s as they followed Rhaella into the dining room. The table was already set, gleaming silverware and fine porcelain arranged with effortless elegance. The aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread filled the room, mingling with the faint scent of herbs from the kitchen.

As Lyanna took her seat, Daenerys gurgled happily in Rhaella’s arms, while Viserys claimed the chair at the head of the table with a self-important air. “I get to sit here because I am clearly the future leader of the household,” he declared.

Aerys, already seated at his usual spot, raised an amused eyebrow. “Clearly, young man, but you’re in my seat. And remember, leadership is about patience… and a little humility—qualities you might want to practice before ordering anyone around.”

Viserys huffed, feigning offense, while Rhaegar leaned toward Lyanna with a playful grin. “You see what you’re dealing with? Ten years old and already convinced he runs the world.”

Lyanna laughed softly. “I think I can handle him… with a little guidance.”

The conversation quickly became lively and slightly chaotic as the Targaryens teased each other endlessly. Rhaella gave Lyanna a pointed smile. “So, tell me, Lyanna, how is it having Rhaegar all to yourself after months of absence? You two have been conspiring, haven’t you?”

Rhaegar coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment behind a sip of wine. “Mum!”

Lyanna shook her head, suppressing a smile. “I think you’ll find I’ve been mostly professional.”

“Mostly?” Aerys teased, leaning back in his chair. “I can only imagine what ‘mostly professional’ looks like in your company, Lyanna Stark.”

Even Viserys joined in, bouncing in his chair. “I think they’re totally plotting! Rhaegar whispers all the time when they think we aren’t looking!”

Rhaegar groaned, while Lyanna laughed, feeling the tension of travel and months apart finally dissolve. The warmth of the family, the teasing, and the shared humor made the room feel alive, vibrant, and homey in a way she hadn’t expected.

Throughout the meal, small moments kept popping up—Rhaegar subtly offering her dishes, Lyanna catching his eye with a small smile, Daenerys gurgling happily whenever either of them glanced her way. Even in the midst of chaos, there was a rhythm, a shared comfort, and a quiet intimacy that bound them together without anyone else needing to notice.

By the time dessert was served, Lyanna realized with a quiet thrill that this was a new chapter—not just in her visit to King’s Landing, but in the life she and Rhaegar were slowly beginning to share.

Aerys leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. “Lyanna… tell me—what is your plan while you’re here in King’s Landing? From what Rickard told me, you’re not just visiting. You want to immerse yourself in the NorthStark-Iron Throne Conglomerate project, yes?”

Lyanna nodded, appreciating his directness. “Yes, Uncle Aerys. I want to gain a deeper understanding of how large-scale projects are managed here. Not just the numbers or the deals, but how they impact the community, the people. Corporate Social Responsibility, public relations, and the integration of history into projects—these are areas I’m particularly interested in.”

Aerys’s eyes twinkled, a playful lilt in his voice. “Ah, so you’re not content merely observing—you want to shape things. That’s the way of a Stark, I suppose. Bold, determined, and ready to leave an impression.”

Rhaella leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, a teasing smile curving her lips. “And of course, you must also contend with Rhaegar distracting you with the city’s best chocolate shops and cafés. How will you possibly manage both work and… more pleasurable pursuits?”

Lyanna laughed softly. “I think I can manage, Aunt Rhaella. I have a good guide for the pleasures of the city,” she added with a small glance at Rhaegar.

Rhaegar’s smile was faint but fond. “I’m happy to provide guidance where needed,” he said, his tone gentle yet laced with amusement.

Aerys’s gaze returned to Lyanna, more serious now, though still warm. “I am genuinely curious. Do you intend to stay fully involved in the negotiations? Or are you here to merely observe, take notes, and return north?”

Lyanna shifted slightly in her seat, considering. “I want to be involved, Uncle Aerys. I want to participate meaningfully. I want to understand how decisions are made, how communities and history are considered in corporate actions. That’s why I thought the project here would be the perfect opportunity.”

Aerys nodded approvingly. “Excellent. You’ll find that working in the South, with its pace and style, is different from the North. But with Rhaegar by your side—and I say this knowing my son well—you’ll navigate it with sharpness and grace.”

Rhaella chuckled softly. “And, if you’re lucky, you’ll survive the playful teasing from the rest of us, yes?”

Lyanna’s smile widened. “I think I can manage. I’ve survived much worse.”

The room fell into a brief comfortable silence, the four of them sharing the warmth of familial regard. Daenerys cooed softly from her bassinet nearby, and Viserys flitted about, pretending to take notes on a notepad as if he were in the midst of grand strategy.

Aerys’s eyes softened. “It is good to see you so composed, Lyanna. You have ambition, but also balance. That will serve you well—both in work, and in life.”

Rhaegar, still leaning against the desk, added quietly, “And remember, you have family here to support you, no matter how complicated the city or the projects may get.”

Lyanna met his gaze, a quiet sense of reassurance settling over her. “I know. That’s part of why I wanted to come here.”

Rhaella gave her a gentle nod. “Then let us toast to the Stark in the city—may your plans be ambitious, your work fruitful, and your time here… memorable.”

The warmth in the room was tangible, the mix of genuine curiosity, familial teasing, and quiet admiration wrapping around Lyanna like a comforting cloak. Even in the midst of corporate discussions and the Southern pace, she felt grounded, welcomed, and ready for the challenges—and delights—that lay ahead. 

Targaryen Residence - Library

The library was warm, softly lit, lined with shelves of books and a few carefully placed mementos from the family’s travels. Lyanna sank into one of the leather armchairs, feeling a sense of ease settle over her. Rhaegar leaned against the desk, while Aerys and Rhaella took the seats opposite her, teacups in hand, still radiating the casual authority of a household used to running smoothly.

“So,” Aerys began, eyes twinkling, “tell us more about these plans of yours, Lyanna. Rickard mentioned you’ve been wanting to expand into Corporate Social Responsibility, PR, and weaving in some of your company’s history. Are you still focused on that?”

Lyanna smiled, settling back. “Yes, Uncle Aerys. That’s exactly what I want to do. I think it’s important to show the people behind the company and the history of the business—it makes the work feel meaningful beyond just profit margins.”

Rhaella leaned forward, a playful tilt to her smile. “And how are you finding the Northern clients? Or do you think you’ll now turn all of King’s Landing into loyal admirers too?”

Lyanna chuckled softly. “The Riverlands work has been rewarding. And the city… well, there’s always more to learn. That’s why being here with you all gives me perspective. And, of course, guidance.”

Aerys raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Guidance, huh? You mean from your very attentive host?” He gestured toward Rhaegar. “Or from the rest of us, who are clearly far more experienced and terrifyingly clever?”

Rhaegar groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Father, Mother, please… she’s already overwhelmed. Don’t start.”

“Overwhelmed?” Aerys echoed mockingly. “Lyanna, you should know better by now. We only tease because we care. And because your friend here,” he nodded at Rhaegar, “sets a terrible example.”

Rhaella laughed softly, lifting her teacup. “Terrible example indeed. Let’s just hope she doesn’t take after you too much, Rhaegar.”

Lyanna smiled, warmth in her chest. “I’ll try not to. Though I admit, it’s comforting to be teased like this. It makes the city feel a little more like home.”

Rhaegar exchanged a quiet glance with her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve been doing remarkably well, Lyanna. I’ve been impressed, and I know my parents will be too.”

The library was quiet, save for the faint ticking of a clock and the occasional rustle of papers. Lyanna sank into a chair, the leather soft beneath her, while Rhaegar sat beside her, hands folded. Aerys and Rhaella sat opposite, expressions a mix of concern and measured resolve.

Rhaegar began. “Before anything else, you should know about Mum and Dad’s visit to Storm’s End. They went to speak directly with Steffon and Cassana about Robert’s behavior—his antics in the Riverlands, the public scandals, the reckless behavior tied to the Targaryen name. They made it very clear: if Robert continues on this path, the Targaryens will publicly sever all ties.”

Aerys leaned forward, voice firm. “It was a polite conversation, but there was no mistaking the ultimatum. Steffon tried to argue, to reason with us, but Cassana… she always finds an excuse for Robert. We told them plainly: Robert must be held accountable, or the consequences will be public and irreversible.”

Rhaegar nodded in agreement, then turned his attention to Lyanna. “How’s Ned?” He asked softly. “How is he managing after the Vale?”

Lyanna’s tone was steady. “Ned has made his decision to resign completely. He’s cut ties with Robert and is maintaining focus on his work at the Vale on his last day without letting Robert’s behavior interfere. He observed everything—Robert’s recklessness, his pettiness, and how Jon Arryn subtly warned him of the risks involved if he resigned. Ned’s decision is measured, but he remains wary. Robert’s temperament is… unpredictable.”

Rhaella’s expression was firm. “That’s why we emphasized the ultimatum. The responsibility now falls squarely on Steffon and Cassana. They cannot continue to enable him. Cassana’s habit of excusing him has allowed this spiral. We made it very clear: the Targaryens will not tolerate it further.”

Rhaegar added, voice low, “There’s more. I received a call from Stannis. Steffon has officially removed Robert as heir to Stag Motors and all Baratheon holdings. Stannis now assumes that role. Robert may not yet understand the full implications, but the change has been made to prevent further mismanagement and reckless decisions.”

Lyanna’s eyes widened, but she remained silent, letting the information settle.

Aerys leaned back, fingers steepled, gaze serious. “We need to be prepared. Robert is petty, vindictive, and unpredictable. We must anticipate any potential outbursts or attempts to interfere. Observe, contain, and act only when necessary. The fewer people involved, the less chance of scandal.”

Rhaella reached over, placing a reassuring hand on Lyanna’s arm. “You have Rhaegar, and you have us. We’ll manage this carefully, together. Any public drama Robert attempts will be contained. We’ll make sure of it.”

Rhaegar gave a small, private nod to Lyanna. “We’ll coordinate our approach. If Robert acts recklessly, we intervene quickly, discreetly, and efficiently. We keep it between us, those who need to know, and no one else. That’s the only way to prevent escalation.”

Lyanna exhaled, a mix of relief and determination washing over her. She had stepped into a space of strategy and vigilance, but also support. With Rhaegar and the Targaryens at her side, she knew the situation could be managed, and that together, they could navigate the chaos Robert might bring.

Rhaegar glanced at Lyanna with quiet concern, taking her hand gently in his for comfort. Aerys and Rhaella sat opposite, their expressions a careful balance of concern, authority, and measured amusement—the same combination that had made the Targaryen household both formidable and welcoming.

Aerys broke the quiet. “We must consider Robert’s temperament. He isn’t simply reckless; he thrives on attention, on conflict. He may attempt to create a scene if he suspects he’s losing control.” His tone was firm, almost chilling in its precision. “We need to anticipate where, when, and how he could strike, socially, professionally, or even through the media.”

Rhaella added, nodding. “And don’t forget, the more public the stage, the more inclined he is to overplay it. That’s why discretion is essential. Any reaction must appear natural, or at least unforced, so as not to feed his ego or vindictiveness.”

Lyanna absorbed this, biting her lower lip. “So… we watch, contain, and intervene only when necessary. But how do we know what’s ‘necessary’ with him? He’s so unpredictable.”

Rhaegar leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “We trust our instincts, Lyanna. Observation is key. Robert thrives on overreaction—if we remain calm and strategic, he loses the advantage.” He glanced at his parents briefly, then back at her. “And we make sure nothing escalates beyond what we can control.”

Aerys leaned forward, fingers tapping lightly against the table. “We also need contingency plans. Assume he could attempt something to undermine the family businesses—Stag Motors, regional holdings, even public investments. He’s not subtle when he wants to sabotage.”

Rhaella’s eyes sparkled with a sharp edge. “We’ll need controlled responses. Statements, social media oversight, controlled press releases if necessary. Every step he takes must be measured against how easily it could become public.” She gave a small, dry laugh. “Honestly, the idea of Robert trying to play strategist in public makes me nervous—and amused.”

Lyanna allowed herself a small smile, a fleeting sense of relief mingling with the weight of responsibility. “And if he… lashes out privately? Threats, manipulation, trying to sway Steffon or anyone else?”

Rhaegar nodded. “We anticipate that too. Which is why the new chain of authority is essential. Stannis now holds the official reins as heir. That limits Robert’s influence in business decisions. Legally, professionally, he can try to object—but the structure is set. Any attempt to interfere can be countered swiftly.” His voice carried quiet conviction. “And personally… if he tests boundaries, we remain calm. Do not engage in escalation. Report to the designated point—me, or my parents if needed.”

Aerys leaned back, steepling his fingers. “The point is preparation. We do not react emotionally, we strategize. And we document everything. Any misstep by Robert must be traceable, undeniable. That way, if he attempts public deflection or lies, the truth is clear, documented, and unassailable.”

Rhaella smiled slightly, a rare softness breaking through. “Lyanna, you won’t be alone in this. Rhaegar is steadfast, and so are we. Think of this as a chess game—we know the board, we know the players, and we control the pieces that matter. I also think it’s best to let your family know about what we are planning, so they can be prepared as well”

“I agree with mum. We all know that Brandon has the tendency to be impulsive at times due to his temper, we need him calm and collected.”

Lyanna exhaled, feeling the pressure ease, if only slightly. “Alright… so we anticipate, observe, intervene discreetly, and document. And trust each other.” Her gaze lingered on Rhaegar. “I can do that.”

Rhaegar gave her a reassuring nod, the corner of his lips curling. “You won’t just manage, Lyanna. You’ll excel. We’ll make sure Robert doesn’t get the satisfaction of seeing us scramble. We dictate the pace, not him.”

“I think, Rhaegar, that it’s best that you be the one to talk to Brandon, you have the ability to calm him, so he won’t make any rash decisions when it comes to Robert.” Rhaella added.

Aerys added, voice firm yet measured: “Remember, this is not about punishing him. It is about safeguarding the families, protecting the reputations, and containing the chaos he creates. That is our goal. The line is clear—he crosses it, we act. Without hesitation.”

Rhaella leaned back, hands folded gracefully in her lap. “And while we prepare for potential drama, we continue life as normal. Professionalism first, calm second, patience always. Robert’s theatrics are only powerful if we let them be. We will not.”

The room settled into quiet thought for a few moments, the four of them absorbing the magnitude of the plan. Lyanna felt a mixture of reassurance and weight—she was not alone, and yet the stakes were higher than she had anticipated.

Finally, Rhaegar spoke, voice low and resolute. “We remain vigilant, ready, and united. Robert may act petty or vindictive, but together, we can ensure his actions never threaten what we’ve worked for—or each other.”

Lyanna nodded, determination settling into her chest. She had joined a family that didn’t just care about her professionally—they were ready to shield her, guide her, and act decisively if necessary. And with Rhaegar by her side, she knew that whatever Robert might attempt, they would be ready.

Lyanna exhaled slowly, a sense of resolve settling over her. With Rhaegar’s steady presence and the unwavering support of Aerys and Rhaella, the weight of the unfolding Baratheon troubles felt manageable. Together, they had a plan, and together they would navigate whatever Robert might throw their way. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself a small, determined smile—ready for the challenges ahead, yet comforted by the family she had chosen to trust.

The following morning dawned clear and bright, sunlight spilling through the tall windows of the Targaryen estate. The atmosphere over breakfast was easy, the heaviness of last night’s discussion replaced with quiet warmth and light conversation. Aerys and Rhaella seemed more relaxed now, teasing Lyanna about her appetite and Rhaegar’s tendency to overwork, while Rhaegar himself—ever patient—simply smiled and poured coffee for everyone.

When it was time to leave, Rhaegar insisted on driving Lyanna to the Iron Throne headquarters himself. The sleek black car cut through the capital’s morning rush, the city unfurling around them—glass towers, familiar billboards, and the low hum of traffic. Lyanna glanced out the window, absorbing the sense of purpose that always came with being here; Rhaegar, hands steady on the wheel, occasionally threw her small, reassuring glances that said you belong here.

At the building, Rhaegar guided her through the grand lobby, introducing her to key staff members and showing her the different departments connected to her upcoming work. It wasn’t a formal tour—more like a personal walk through his world, one he was now sharing with her.

They ended the morning in a conference room on one of the higher floors, overlooking the city. The meeting was brief but promising: discussions about her new project, her integration with the company’s PR and CSR teams, and how she would help merge the brand’s modern image with its historic legacy. The conversation stayed professional, but there was an undercurrent of warmth—respect, trust, and something deeper that neither needed to name.

When the meeting concluded, Rhaegar leaned slightly toward her, voice soft yet certain.

“Welcome to Iron Throne, Lyanna,” he said with a faint smile. “I have a feeling you’ll fit right in.”

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of introductions, handshakes, and polite smiles. Lyanna moved from one department to another with Rhaegar at her side—communications, development, corporate relations—each team eager to meet NorthStark’s representative for the joint sustainability project. It was only a brief visit, a familiarization tour, but the energy of the place was infectious. Rhaegar’s presence made it easier too; he never once left her to fend for herself, always offering a quiet word or subtle nod that steadied her nerves.

By early afternoon, they stopped by his office—a spacious, sunlit room overlooking the city skyline. The walls were lined with framed photographs: old company milestones, community projects, and family portraits. Lyanna paused by one in particular—a much younger Rhaegar standing beside Aerys and Rhaella during an early groundbreaking ceremony. There was pride in their eyes, and something about the image made her smile.

Rhaegar watched her from behind his desk, his tone lightly teasing.

“Not quite what you expected, is it?”

Lyanna turned, half-smiling. “Actually, it’s impressive. My dad always said Iron Throne ran like its own kingdom. Seeing it up close… I think he was right.”

He leaned back slightly, thoughtful. “Your father’s one of the few who understood what we were trying to build. His vision for NorthStark—steady, reliable, grounded—it complements ours. That’s why this partnership matters.”

Lyanna nodded softly. “He’ll be glad to hear that. He’s been watching this collaboration closely—especially with everything else going on.”

Rhaegar’s expression gentled. “Understandably so. But as long as I’m overseeing this, both our families’ names are safe. You can tell him that.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than he probably intended. For a heartbeat, the polished corporate veneer slipped—replaced by something quieter, more personal.

Lyanna broke the silence first, smoothing the lapel of her blazer. “I should probably head back down. They said someone from CSR wants to run me through their outreach model before I leave.”

Rhaegar stood, walking her to the door. “Of course. Thank you for making the trip. It means a lot—to me and to the company.”

She gave a polite, knowing smile. “Just doing my job, Rhaegar. Though I’ll admit—it’s been a more pleasant visit than most.”

He chuckled, opening the door for her. “Then I’ll consider that a success. Lunch later, before you head back?”

“Only if you’re buying.”

He smiled, low and amused. “Always.”

They ended up at one of Rhaegar’s preferred lunch spots—a quiet, sunlit restaurant tucked away from the city’s main rush. The kind of place that didn’t flaunt luxury but carried it effortlessly: muted tones, glass walls overlooking the bay, and a staff that knew when to give privacy.

Lyanna took a seat by the window, glancing at the minimalist decor before teasing, “So this is what you call low-profile?”

Rhaegar smiled faintly, sliding into the seat across from her. “Believe it or not, this is low-profile—for King’s Landing standards, anyway.”

She chuckled softly. “Right. Just a little marble, a little sea view, and probably the best wine in the city.”

“Exactly,” he replied smoothly, his tone playfully defensive. “Besides, if I’m having lunch with a Stark, I can’t take you anywhere ordinary.”

The comment earned him a small smile, one that lingered as they ordered. Conversation drifted easily at first—light remarks about her flight, about how the city seemed busier than ever, about how even the skyline felt different since the last time she’d been there. But soon, as the waiter left them to their quiet, the tone naturally shifted.

“It still feels strange,” Lyanna said after a pause, stirring her iced tea absently. “After everything that happened with Robert and Ned’s resignation…and the information from last night”

Rhaegar nodded, expression thoughtful. “Understandable. Last night was a lot to process. What my father and mother told you, what Stannis confirmed—it’s not easy news to carry.”

Lyanna met his gaze, her tone measured. “Still feels surreal, hearing your Uncle actually went through with it—removing Robert as heir and giving everything to Stannis. I keep thinking how my father would’ve reacted if that had happened months ago.”

“Uncle Rickard would’ve called it overdue,” Rhaegar said with quiet certainty. “And he’d be right.”

That earned a faint smile from her. “Probably.” She sighed, leaning back slightly. “I know it was the right move, but I can’t help worrying how Robert’s reaction to all of these. He’s impulsive, and Ned said he was already unpredictable when he came back at the Vale.”

Rhaegar’s tone softened, calm but steady. “That’s exactly why we need to stay cautious. My parents’ visit to Storm’s End sent a message, but if Robert takes this personally—and he will—we can’t afford to be caught off guard. We are all aware of Robert’s character, we just don’t have the exact knowledge of its extent.”

Lyanna nodded, her brows knitting. “I’ll relay that to Papa. I hope you tell Brandon soon. He needs to tread carefully.”

“Yeah, I will do my best to clarify that to Brandon, we can have him do anything rash, I will also like to keep Arthur in the loop, maybe have Elia into the circle as well.” Rhaegar said, his voice low but reassuring. “We’re walking the same line, Lyanna. All we need to do now is keep the work professional, stay visible where it matters, and let time settle the noise.”

She gave him a small, grateful smile. “You make it sound simple.”

“It never is,” he admitted, lips curving slightly, “but it helps to sound confident in front of the chaos.”

Their meals arrived—a light spread of seafood and greens, the kind of fare suited for long workdays. The weight of the earlier topic faded just enough for laughter to slip back into the conversation. They talked about the old times their parents hosted joint company galas, about Viserys trying to act important in board meetings, and about how Daenerys once hijacked a company livestream with her baby babble.

For the first time since her arrival, Lyanna felt the atmosphere lighten. Between the calm cadence of Rhaegar’s voice and the rhythm of the city outside, the world seemed to make a little more sense again.

When they finally stepped out into the early afternoon sun, Rhaegar paused by the car and glanced at her. “You know,” he said, his tone gentle but certain, “it’s good having a Stark in the city again. The North always has a way of steadying things down here.”

Lyanna smiled faintly at that, meeting his gaze. “Then let’s hope it works.”

He chuckled. “It usually does.”

Their meals sat mostly untouched between them now, the conversation having drifted far from business and alliances. The initial chatter about company reports and Stannis’s succession had faded into something quieter, more personal—something that hung delicately between them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The clinking of silverware and the faint murmur of the restaurant filled the silence. Outside, the bay shimmered under the afternoon sun, its surface restless and alive—just like the thoughts Lyanna couldn’t quite name.

She looked up at Rhaegar finally, catching him watching her with that same quiet attentiveness he’d always had. It wasn’t heavy, or demanding—it was patient.

“Rhaegar,” she began softly, setting her glass down. “I’ve been thinking about us. About… what we’ve been doing these past few months.”

His brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I wasn’t sure what I wanted before,” she continued, her voice calm but vulnerable. “You kept saying you’d follow my lead—that you didn’t want to push until I was ready. And I thought I needed more time to figure it out, to think about what happens next, especially with all that’s going on.”

She paused, drawing a slow breath. “But this—being here with you again—it doesn’t feel confusing anymore. It just feels… right.”

Rhaegar’s expression softened, though his voice was low and steady. “You’re sure?”

Lyanna met his gaze fully, her tone sure and quiet. “I am. I don’t know what the next few months will look like, and I don’t have all the answers. But I do know I want this. I want us. Even if it’s complicated, even if it means long flights and late calls and meetings that end past midnight.”

He smiled then—not the poised, public smile he wore in meetings, but something gentler, more private. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that.”

She gave a small laugh, nervous and relieved all at once. “Probably as much as I’ve been trying not to say it.”

He reached across the table, his hand finding hers with an easy familiarity that still sent warmth up her arm. “You know I meant it when I said I’d follow your lead. Whatever pace you want, whatever distance we have to cross—I’ll meet you there.”

Lyanna squeezed his hand lightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Then consider this me catching up.”

Rhaegar’s grin deepened, quiet amusement flickering in his eyes. “Does that mean this counts as our first official date?”

She laughed, a soft sound that drew a few curious glances from the nearby tables. “If it does, then you really set the bar too high, Targaryen.”

He leaned in slightly, voice low and teasing. “Good. Then I’ll just have to keep it there.”

The waiter arrived just then with dessert, breaking the moment but not the warmth that had settled between them. They lingered over coffee and shared cake, their talk lighter now—about future plans, about the next time they’d see each other, about everything and nothing all at once.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said softly, eyes meeting hers, “I’m holding you to what you said in earlier.”

Lyanna smiled, heart steady. “Good. Because I meant it.”

The lunch crowd had mellowed into an easy rhythm — quiet chatter, the occasional clink of glass, the soft hum of a piano somewhere in the background. Rhaegar was just signaling the waiter for the check when a voice, bright and far too enthusiastic, cut through the calm.

“Rhaegar? Rhaegar Targaryen?”

Rhaegar froze mid-motion. Lyanna turned, brow lifting slightly, as a woman in a gleaming lavender dress and heels far too tall for a casual lunch approached their table like she was making an entrance. Her glossy curls bounced with every confident step, and her perfume seemed to announce her arrival before she did.

“Rhaegar! It is you!” she gushed, ignoring the startled diners who turned to look. “Oh my gods, I can’t believe this! How long has it been — since the Casterly Gala? Or was it that charity thing at King’s Landing University?”

Rhaegar blinked. “Ah—Melara…” he hesitated, then added, uncertainly, “Heatherton?”

“It’s Hetherspoon,” she corrected, a touch too sharply, before softening her tone again. “Melara Hetherspoon. You really don’t remember?”

Lyanna, who had been quietly sipping her iced tea, bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She could feel Rhaegar’s discomfort radiating across the table.

“Oh,” Rhaegar said politely, straightening in his seat. “It’s just been… quite a while?”

Melara smiled sweetly and leaned in, much too close for comfort. “You probably don’t remember me, but we were at King’s Landing University together. I was with Cersei’s crowd back then. We used to run into each other all the time.”

Rhaegar gave a small, diplomatic nod. “Of course,” he said, his tone neutral. “That must’ve been… ages ago.”

Melara laughed lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, not that long ago. I still keep in touch with some of them. Cersei, Jaime—oh, we used to be so close. I’m sure they’d remember.”

At that, Lyanna finally set her glass down. “You’re a friend of Cersei’s?” she asked mildly, her tone polite but her smile unmistakably amused.

“Oh, yes,” Melara said eagerly, seizing on the lifeline. “We went to school together. I was quite close to her brother too—Jaime. We used to spend summers at their place in Lannisport. Rhaegar came by once, actually. Everyone was so thrilled.”

Lyanna tilted her head, eyes glinting with humor. “That’s odd. Cersei and Jaime are two of my dearest friends — practically family, really. And yet I can’t recall them ever mentioning you.”

The brightness in Melara’s smile faltered. “Well—Cersei can be rather private,” she managed, laughing a little too high.

“Oh, absolutely,” Lyanna replied smoothly, resting her chin on her hand. “She’s very particular about who she lets close. It’s one of the things I admire most about her.”

Rhaegar coughed lightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. Melara fumbled with her bag strap, clearly flustered now. “Anyway,” she said quickly, “it’s just wonderful to see old faces, you know?”

Lyanna smiled serenely. “It certainly is.”

Melara’s eyes darted between the two of them, perhaps realizing for the first time that Rhaegar was not, in fact, alone. “Oh—this must be your… colleague?” she asked, her smile stretching a little too wide.

Rhaegar glanced at Lyanna, who met his eyes with amused composure before replying, “Lyanna Stark. His girlfriend.”

The word hung in the air just long enough for Melara’s expression to stiffen before she recovered with a brittle laugh. “Of course. Well. It was so good running into you, Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar gave a courteous nod. “Likewise, Miss… Hetherton?”

“It’s Hetherspoon,” she said again, voice tight, before sweeping away in a cloud of perfume and wounded pride.

As she disappeared through the restaurant doors, Lyanna finally let out the laugh she’d been holding back. Rhaegar groaned softly, rubbing his forehead. “You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely,” Lyanna said, still grinning. “So that’s what university was like for you? I can’t wait to hear the rest of your fan club stories.”

Rhaegar sighed. “There are no stories. And I will never forget the fact that you actually introduced yourself as my girlfriend.”

“Oh, I think there are stories,” she teased. “And I’m going to find every single one.” Completely ignoring the “girlfriend” retort.

He gave her a weary look, but the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

“Seven save me,” he muttered, “I think you might.” 

They stepped out of the restaurant and into the soft mid-afternoon light. The streets of King’s Landing shimmered with motion — suits crossing intersections, the scent of espresso wafting from a corner café, and the faint rhythm of city life pulsing around them.

Rhaegar slowed his pace beside Lyanna, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “You’re still holding that laugh in,” he said, voice laced with amused resignation.

Lyanna smiled, her tone feigning innocence. “I would never.”

He gave her a look. “Go on.”

“Go on what?”

“Say whatever sarcastic remark you’ve been saving since Melara appeared.”

Lyanna folded her arms lightly, pretending to think. “I just didn’t realize you had… such dedicated admirers. She practically floated across the room.”

Rhaegar groaned. “She was part of Cersei’s old university circle, I think, I'm not even sure if she was actually a part of it. We barely spoke. I’m not even sure we had a full conversation.”

“Mmm,” Lyanna hummed, her grin widening. “Yet somehow she remembers your schedule, your cologne, your exact tone when you say ‘good afternoon.’ Fascinating.”

He sighed. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Of course I am,” she said breezily. “She dropped Cersei’s name like a calling card — as if I’d immediately accept her into our inner circle. For someone who claims to have been close to your university life, she must’ve missed the part where I’m best friends with both Cersei and Jaime.”

Rhaegar laughed despite himself, shaking his head. “You’re ruthless.”

“Only when necessary.”

The tension melted into quiet laughter between them as they reached the edge of the ITC plaza. The headquarters towered above — glass and silver rising against the afternoon sky, sunlight glinting off its mirrored façade.

Rhaegar gestured toward it. “You’ve never been inside the atrium, have you?”

Lyanna shook her head, taking in the modern spires and the flurry of movement through the glass walls. “No. I’ve seen pictures, of course — and the annual galas — but never the real thing. So far I have only seen the entrance lobby earlier this morning when we arrived”

“Then we’ll fix that,” he said, holding the door open with a faint, teasing smile. “Welcome to the Iron Throne Conglomerate Atrium.”

They stepped into the cool air of the atrium lobby — white marble floors, bronze accents, and the quiet hum of conversation echoing beneath a vaulted glass ceiling. Water cascaded down a glass wall near the far end, soft and rhythmic, as executives passed with practiced ease.

Lyanna turned slowly, her eyes taking in the scale of it all — the portraits of past CEOs, the architectural symmetry, the quiet aura of legacy and power. Her gaze caught on a large framed photograph: her father, younger and smiling, shaking hands with Aerys Targaryen over the first NorthStark–ITC collaboration.

Rhaegar followed her line of sight, his tone soft. “They built the foundations of what we’re standing on. It’s strange, thinking how much of their friendship still echoes through these halls.”

Lyanna smiled faintly. “Not strange,” she murmured. “They knew exactly what they were doing. They just expected us not to mess it up.”

Rhaegar looked at her for a long moment — admiration and understanding in equal measure — before reaching out and taking her hand. It wasn’t deliberate so much as instinctive; his fingers found hers and stayed there, steady and sure.

Lyanna didn’t pull away. Instead, she looked down at their joined hands, then back up at him with a small, genuine smile.

“Then I suppose we’d better live up to them,” she said softly.

Rhaegar’s thumb brushed lightly against her knuckles. “I intend to.”

For a moment, the world outside the glass walls faded — the noise of the city, the pressure of names, the weight of legacy — leaving only the quiet warmth between them.

Then his phone buzzed, breaking the stillness. Rhaegar sighed and checked the screen. “Stannis,” he murmured.

Lyanna’s brow furrowed. “Another update?”

“Probably. He doesn’t call unless it’s important.”

Lyanna exhaled. “Then we’ll be ready.”

Rhaegar gave her hand a small squeeze before releasing it, his expression softening. “Together, then.”

They walked on toward the elevators, side by side — two heirs of old houses, bound not by legacy alone but by choice.

The elevator chimed softly as it reached the top floor of the Iron Throne Conglomerate headquarters.

It was Lyanna’s first time there — the seat of power everyone in the business world referred to simply as “the Throne.” Sleek, efficient, and intimidatingly polished, the office tower seemed to hum with quiet authority.

Rhaegar led her down a wide hallway lined with glass walls and minimalist art. His hand brushed lightly against her back as they walked — a subtle, reassuring gesture. When they reached the end of the corridor, Lyanna caught sight of the gold lettering etched across frosted glass:

Rhaegar Targaryen, Chief Operations Officer

He held the door for her. “Welcome to my second home,” he said with a faint smile.

Inside, the office was a reflection of him — elegant restraint. Soft gray walls, a few scattered books on leadership and music, and a grand piano near the window. Behind the glass, King’s Landing stretched out in silver-blue hues beneath the morning sun.

“It’s beautiful,” Lyanna said, looking around. “It actually feels… peaceful. I thought it’d be louder up here.”

Rhaegar chuckled. “That’s what the boardroom is for.”

Before Lyanna could respond, his phone buzzed — the same number flashing across the screen again. He sighed. “It’s Stannis.”

Lyanna frowned slightly. “Still about Robert?”

He nodded, expression tightening. “Most likely.”

Rhaegar answered, voice low and calm. “Stannis. Go ahead.”

Lyanna stayed quiet, watching as he paced near the window. The conversation was sharp, concise — Rhaegar’s tone professional but edged with concern.

“…When?” he asked after a pause. His brow furrowed. “And no one was hurt?”

Another pause. “That’s something, at least.”

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders tense as he listened again. “No, I understand. Your father made the right call, Stannis. Removing Robert was the only way to keep the company — and the family — intact.”

Lyanna’s grip on her coffee tightened slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.

Rhaegar’s tone softened. “You don’t have to apologize for his behavior. Just… keep your distance. The last thing anyone needs is another public outburst.”

When he hung up, the silence that followed was heavy but familiar — the kind that came when reality caught up to what everyone had feared.

Lyanna finally spoke. “What happened?”

Rhaegar ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Apparently Robert showed up drunk at Stag Motors’ main office this morning. Security had to escort him out. He shouted something about the Targaryens — and about your family, too.”

Her expression darkened, though she stayed composed. “He’s unraveling.”

“Yes,” Rhaegar said quietly. “And that makes him dangerous.”

She crossed her arms. “He’s already done enough damage. My father made his decision a month ago. NorthStark wants nothing to do with Stag Motors or the Baratheons anymore.”

Rhaegar’s gaze softened as he looked at her. “And you agree with him?”

Lyanna met his eyes. “Completely. You saw what he did, Rhaegar. He doesn’t get to rewrite that.”

For a long moment, Rhaegar said nothing. Then, without thinking, he reached out and took her hand — a quiet gesture of solidarity more than anything else. “Then we’ll be careful. All of us. He’s not the type to let go easily.”

Lyanna squeezed his hand back. “Neither am I.”

He smiled faintly. “Good. You’ll need that.”

A beat of silence passed, lighter this time, before he stood and said, “Come on. You’ve seen the office — now let me show you the view from the terrace before your meeting. It’s the only part of this place that doesn’t feel like it’s plotting something.”

Lyanna smirked. “So the rumors are true — even the Iron Throne has safe zones.”

“Only when you’re around,” he said, holding the door open for her.

The terrace opened to a breathtaking view of King’s Landing — the skyline shimmering in soft gold light as the late morning sun cut through a gentle haze. Far below, the city pulsed with its usual rhythm: fast, loud, alive. Up here, though, it felt almost peaceful.

Lyanna stepped forward, resting her hands lightly on the railing. The breeze lifted her hair, cool against her skin. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “You can almost forget how busy it is down there.”

Rhaegar joined her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “That’s why I come here when things get too loud,” he said. “It helps me breathe again.”

Lyanna turned to him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “And now you’re sharing it with me.”

“Of course,” Rhaegar said, his voice quiet but certain. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers, and the touch felt steady — not tentative this time, but sure. Lyanna squeezed back gently, her thumb brushing over his knuckles.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The city stretched beneath them, all glass and motion and promise.

Rhaegar finally broke the silence, his tone softer now. “Whatever happens next — with Robert, with the families — we face it together. Agreed?”

Lyanna nodded, eyes fixed on the horizon. “Agreed.”

Rhaegar smiled, leaning in to press a light kiss to her cheek — slow and sure, not rushed, not hesitant. “Then that’s settled,” he murmured.

Lyanna turned to meet his gaze, her own smile blooming wider. “I suppose that’s what being ‘us’ looks like now.”

He chuckled quietly. “I’d say it looks pretty good from here.”

The two of them stood side by side, the city glinting below — and for the first time in a long while, the world felt calm.

Chapter Text

A Quiet Afternoon with Rhaella

The Targaryen residence was a portrait of calm — golden afternoon light spilling through tall windows, the faint hum of the city far below softened by distance. From the veranda, Lyanna could see the gardens stretching in clean lines, white hibiscus and low fountains arranged with deliberate grace.

Rhaella sat waiting by a small round table dressed in linen and porcelain. She looked every bit the image of quiet command — elegant, poised, her silver hair gleaming like silk. When she saw Lyanna approach, her face brightened in a way that melted all formality.

“My dear, you finally made it back,” Rhaella greeted warmly, taking Lyanna’s hands before gesturing to the seat beside her. “You must be tired — the South has a way of making one feel both welcome and overwhelmed.”

Lyanna smiled, sinking into the chair. “It’s beautiful here. Peaceful. I can see why you love it.”

Rhaella poured tea into their cups, the scent of jasmine rising gently between them. “Peaceful for now,” she said with an amused hum. “Until my sons decide to fill the house with meetings, music, and mayhem again.”

Lyanna chuckled softly. “I can imagine.”

The two women shared an easy rhythm for a while — tea, laughter, light conversation that carried the faint sweetness of memory. Rhaella eventually set her cup down and tilted her head, studying Lyanna with the quiet curiosity of someone who already knew the answer to her question.

“You know,” she began lightly, “I promised myself I wouldn’t meddle. I told myself, Rhaella, you’ve raised your children — let them make their own decisions.”

Lyanna arched a brow, amused. “That sounds like the preface to meddling.”

Rhaella smiled knowingly. “Perhaps just a little. You and my son — is there something I should know?”

Lyanna’s lips curved, both embarrassed and touched by the directness. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“My dear, when one reaches my age, one learns that time is best spent asking the questions everyone else is too polite to,” Rhaella said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Besides, I’d rather hear it from you than from gossip columns or—heaven forbid—Elia’s well-meaning curiosity.”

Lyanna laughed, setting her cup down carefully. “All right, if you must know — we’ve decided to… give it a chance. To be together, properly. It’s still new, but it feels right.”

Rhaella’s eyes softened, her smile turning genuine. “Ah. I thought so. He’s been lighter lately — not that he’d ever admit it. You must know, my son has a gift for making everything seem calm, even when his heart is in chaos.”

Lyanna hesitated, her voice quiet but firm. “He’s been nothing but gentle with me. Patient, even when I’m still trying to make sense of all this.”

Rhaella reached across the table, touching Lyanna’s hand briefly. “That’s good. The world often confuses gentleness for weakness, but with Rhaegar, it’s strength. Still—” her tone turned teasing again, “—he’ll need someone who can keep him grounded. I suspect you’ve already taken up that role.”

Lyanna laughed softly, eyes glinting. “He might say the same about me.”

“Then perhaps it’s a fair balance,” Rhaella mused. “You remind me of your mother, you know. Lyarra never shied away from the fire, even when everyone else told her to keep her distance.”

“I think that’s the only way she knew how to live,” Lyanna said with a fond sigh.

“Then she raised you well.” Rhaella lifted her cup in a quiet toast. “To courage — and to not running from what feels right, even when the world might misunderstand it.”

Lyanna mirrored her, smiling. “To courage.”

The two women shared a gentle laugh, the moment light and unspokenly sincere — the afternoon sun wrapping the veranda in a golden stillness.

That night, the house was still — save for the quiet hum of the city outside and the faint clinking of dishes from the kitchen below. When Lyanna retired to her guest room, she carried with her the warmth of Rhaella’s words, the scent of jasmine still clinging faintly to her hair.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the glass walls of Rhaegar’s office at the Iron Throne Conglomerate headquarters — a panoramic view of King’s Landing’s skyline sprawling beneath pale blue skies. The space felt every bit like its owner: refined, deliberate, and quietly commanding.

Lyanna sat across from his desk, a folder in hand, her expression focused but relaxed. The faint buzz of city traffic below was muffled by the hum of the air conditioning and the distant rhythm of office life beyond the tinted doors.

Rhaegar was on his phone, scrolling through contacts until he found the one he wanted. “Let’s get this over with before he decides to call me instead,” he muttered, glancing at Lyanna with a wry half-smile.

She laughed softly. “Brandon calling first? That would be chaos in ten seconds.”

“Exactly.” He pressed the speaker button, leaning back in his chair as the line rang.

The call connected with a burst of static and a familiar voice, sharp and impatient even through the speaker.

“Rhaegar Targaryen! I swear, I was just about to call you myself. What the hell’s going on down there?”

“Good morning to you too,” Rhaegar said dryly, amused. “You’re on speaker. Lyanna’s here.”

There was a pause, followed by a loud sigh. “Of course she is. Lya, are you babysitting him now?”

Lyanna rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help smiling. “Good morning, Brandon. And I’m not babysitting anyone. I’m here for work — remember?”

“Right, work. And part-time crisis management, I assume,” Brandon muttered. “So. I heard about Robert. Tell me it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

Rhaegar exchanged a glance with Lyanna before replying carefully. “It’s exactly as bad as it sounds — but it’s being handled. Also, Stannis called me, Steffon finally made a decision. Robert’s been officially removed as heir from Stag Motors and the Baratheon holdings. Stannis is stepping in.”

There was a low whistle from the other end. “Seven hells. About time someone in that family grew a spine.”

Lyanna’s tone turned warning, though still gentle. “Bran.”

He groaned. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave. But tell me you at least believe this won’t blow up in our faces?”

“Not yet,” Rhaegar replied. “But it could, if anyone gives Robert the impression he’s being mocked or cornered. He’s proud, reckless — a dangerous combination right now. Stannis and I agreed to keep everything quiet until things stabilize.”

Brandon huffed. “And you trust Stannis to keep Robert on a leash?”

“I trust Stannis to do what’s right for the company,” Rhaegar said simply. “And I trust that you and your family will do the same. Which means, for now, no confrontations. No public comments. No… Stark dramatics.”

“Ha!” Brandon’s laugh was humorless. “Good luck with that if Robert shows up anywhere near us.”

Lyanna interjected softly but firmly, “Brandon, listen to me. Ned already stepped away from the Vale. He’s doing the right thing, keeping quiet, staying careful. You need to do the same. Remember Neds, observation about him the last time he was there. Promise me you’ll think before reacting.”

There was silence, then a sigh. “…You always sound like Dad when you say things like that.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, smiling faintly.

“Fine. I’ll keep it together. But if Robert pulls anything—”

“Then we’ll deal with it smartly,” Rhaegar cut in. “Not loudly.”

That earned a reluctant chuckle. “You’re lucky you’ve got Lya there keeping you grounded. Must be nice having a Stark around to tell you when you’re full of yourself.”

“Oh, I tell him that regularly,” Lyanna teased, glancing at Rhaegar, who raised an eyebrow.

“See?” Brandon said triumphantly. “She has now become a Southern wolf. Don’t think I don’t see what’s happening down there.”

Rhaegar smirked, his tone mild. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Brandon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Brandon grumbled, though his tone softened. “Just… take care of her, all right? And don’t let this Baratheon mess spill over into whatever you’re planning next.”

“You have my word,” Rhaegar replied quietly.

“Good.” A pause. “Then keep our little wolf out of trouble, will you?”

The line clicked off before either could respond.

For a moment, the office was still again — the only sound the hum of the city below. Lyanna exhaled, leaning back slightly, tension easing from her shoulders.

“Well,” she said finally, “that went better than expected.”

“Which is saying something, considering it’s Brandon.” Rhaegar smiled faintly, turning off the speaker and meeting her eyes. “You handled him better than I ever could.”

Lyanna grinned. “That’s because he knows I can call our father if he doesn’t behave.”

“Ah, the ultimate weapon.”

“Exactly.”

Their laughter filled the sleek office — light and genuine, cutting through the morning calm. Outside, the skyline gleamed in the sun, unaware of the quiet war being planned beneath its surface.

A quiet hum filled Rhaegar’s office — the city skyline spilling sunlight across glass and steel. Lyanna was still flipping through one of ITC’s glossy project binders when a knock sounded on the door.

Without looking up, Rhaegar said, “Come in.”

The door opened, and a familiar voice cut through the calm. “Well, if it isn’t the Northerner causing a stir in the capital.”

Lyanna looked up, instantly grinning. “Arthur Dayne,” she said, standing to meet him. “Still alive after putting up with Brandon for all those years?”

Arthur laughed, crossing the room to clasp her hand. “Barely. Your brother’s been trying to get me killed since university. Between his temper and your sharp tongue, I don’t know which is worse.”

“Brandon’s bark is worse than his bite,” she said lightly. “Mine, though—”

“—is fatal. I know,” Arthur finished for her, shooting Rhaegar a smirk. “You warned me about that, didn’t you?”

Rhaegar, still leaning casually against his desk, gave a small shrug. “I might’ve mentioned it.”

Arthur grinned. “Of course you did.” He set a folder down and turned back to Lyanna. “I didn’t think I’d actually find you in the building. Last time we all met, you were dressed to the nines and ready to punch Baratheon in the face.”

Lyanna chuckled, sitting back down. “And I did, just not at the gala, too many witnesses. Guess your friend has a way of calming people.”

“Rhaegar always does,” Arthur said, shooting the man a teasing look. “Sometimes even without realizing it.”

Rhaegar lifted an eyebrow. “You’re enjoying yourself too much.”

Arthur smirked. “Can you blame me? Between you two, I feel like I’m watching history repeat itself. The Stark sarcasm and the Targaryen calm — I should start taking notes.”

Lyanna leaned forward. “Careful, Dayne. You might start sounding like my brother.”

Arthur laughed. “Don’t insult me like that.”

They all chuckled, the kind of effortless camaraderie that only came from years of shared circles and long-standing trust.

Rhaegar eventually gestured to the folder Arthur brought. “What’s the update?”

Arthur’s tone shifted slightly, professional but still easy. “Dorne Solar’s running ahead of schedule. Oberyn’s already pushing for early rollout. He’s threatening to livestream the launch if you keep ignoring his messages.

Lyanna raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like him.”

Arthur chuckled. “You’ve met him, then.”

“Once,” Lyanna said. “He tried to convince me to invest in his eco-resort idea. Half the pitch was about tequila, and I was still an intern at NorthStark.”

“That tracks,” Arthur replied dryly.

Rhaegar shook his head, amused. “Tell him I’ll review the numbers before lunch.”

Arthur gave a mock salute. “I’ll pass it along, though don’t be surprised if he sends you a cocktail emoji in response.”

Lyanna grinned. “That sounds like trouble.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Arthur said. “Between Oberyn’s recklessness and Rhaegar’s diplomacy, I’m just here for damage control.”

“Damage control?” Lyanna teased. “Please. You can’t even control your crush on Elia Martell.”

Rhaegar stifled a laugh. Arthur blinked — once — before sighing, resigned. “Brandon talks too much.”

Lyanna tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Brandon didn’t tell me. Ashara did.”

That made both men look at her — Rhaegar with quiet amusement, Arthur with mock betrayal.

Arthur groaned. “Fantastic. Remind me never to let any of you near my private life.”

“Too late,” Lyanna said sweetly. “You’re basically family.”

Arthur pointed at her as he backed toward the door. “And that’s exactly the problem.” He turned to Rhaegar. “You two behave. And try not to cause a scandal before lunch.”

Rhaegar raised a brow. “You assume there’s time.”

Arthur gave a low laugh. “See? That tone. That’s how it starts.”

As the door closed behind him, Lyanna shook her head, smiling. “He hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Neither have you,” Rhaegar murmured, his gaze soft. “Still impossible to win against.”

She smiled faintly, the warmth between them deepening. “Good thing you stopped trying.”

A few days later, 

The Targaryen residence glowed with soft lamplight, the scent of roasted vegetables and fresh bread filling the air. Lyanna had just set her napkin down, the remnants of a rich stew on her plate, when Aerys leaned back in his chair, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Rhaegar,” he said, voice light but with unmistakable authority, “don’t forget that gallery opening tomorrow evening. You promised you’d attend.”

Rhaegar looked up from his wine glass, brow raised. “Of course, Father. I remember.”

“Good,” Aerys said, leaning forward with a playful sparkle in his eyes. “Think of it as an… opportunity. Don’t let me remind you that a lady like Lyanna deserves to be seen — publicly, properly. You’ve made her quite comfortable in the city; now show her off, for once.”

Rhaella chuckled, giving her son a knowing look. “And remember, Rhaegar, crowds aren’t really your thing. You tolerate these events only for business or… important companions.”

Rhaegar groaned dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mother, Father, must you announce my social ineptitude?”

“Merely stating facts,” Aerys said, smirking. “Besides, we’ve prepared Lyanna for the challenge of keeping you upright in a room full of art critics and socialites.”

Lyanna caught Rhaegar’s eye and smirked. “He’s only grumbling to make himself look mysterious. I’ll make sure he survives the ordeal.”

Rhaegar chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “I’ll survive, I promise. And I trust you’ll supervise me well.”

Rhaella smiled warmly. “Exactly. Consider this a friendly reminder — show up, support each other, and enjoy the company. You two are a team tonight.”

Lyanna grinned. “Art, socializing, teasing my date… sounds perfect.”

Gallery Opening – The Mummer’s Mask Exhibit

The evening air was crisp as Lyanna and Rhaegar arrived together, Rhaegar subtly letting her lean slightly against his side as they walked. The gallery was sleek and modern — white walls, spotlights highlighting vivid canvases and sculptures, patrons chatting in clusters with glasses of champagne in hand.

The crowd was younger, the children of high-society families, buzzing with excitement and subtle rivalry over the latest pieces on display. Jamie Lannister spotted them almost immediately, leaning casually near a large abstract canvas.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the new power couple of King’s Landing,” Jamie called, smirking. “Finally seeing you two together in public. Took you long enough.”

Lyanna rolled her eyes, nudging Rhaegar slightly. “He’s just jealous he didn’t get an exclusive invite to the drama beforehand.”

Jamie’s grin widened. “Drama? Oh, I know plenty already. Rhaegar, you’ve been hiding secrets from me.”

Rhaegar gave a half-smile, glancing at Lyanna. “I survive, I promise. She tells the story.”

Lyanna raised an eyebrow, mock-offended. “Excuse me? I only embellish the facts slightly.”

Arthur Dayne, examining a sculpture across the room, chuckled and approached. “Ah, complications, I see. Sounds like I missed something.”

Lyanna grinned. “You missed a month of negotiations, social survival, and making sure he doesn’t get flustered in public. And take note, this has only been done over calls, texts, and video calls.”

Arthur laughed softly. “Ah, so you’ve trained him well. That’s impressive.”

Jamie sidled closer, clearly enjoying the banter. “Impressive, yes… but I’ll need a full report later. You, Lyanna, have been keeping all the juicy stories to yourself, haven’t you?”

Lyanna smirked, giving him a pointed look. “Oh, you mean the stories about your charming southern friend here? I think I’ll spare you. For now.”

Rhaegar’s lips twitched in amusement, the faintest blush rising to his cheeks. “She exaggerates, Jamie. Mostly.”

Jamie feigned shock. “Exaggerates? My dear Lyanna, you wound me! And you,” he said, elbowing Rhaegar lightly, “make a face like I’m the villain here.”

Lyanna laughed quietly, leaning closer to Rhaegar. “See? He’s already plotting against me.”

At that moment, Elia Martell and her brother Oberyn glided into the gallery, greeting a few acquaintances before spotting the group. Lyanna’s eyes lit up, and she whispered to Rhaegar with a sly grin, “Perfect timing. Arthur’s little smile is going to crack when he sees her.”

Arthur’s eyes widened slightly as he spotted Elia. “Really? Must we?”

Lyanna laughed softly. “Come now, you know her. Admit it — you’ve got a soft spot for her.”

Arthur shook his head, lips twitching in reluctant amusement. “You’re incorrigible.”

Meanwhile, Jon Connington lingered near a corner, observing Rhaegar with a polite, measured smile. Lyanna noticed him out of the corner of her eye but didn’t recognize the name or face. Arthur and Jamie exchanged a glance, silently noting the subtle tension Jon’s presence might bring to Rhaegar, though he seemed completely unaware of them.

Lyanna, sensing an opportunity, whispered teasingly to Rhaegar, “And who is our friend lurking over there, the one silently admiring you?”

Rhaegar glanced subtly but didn’t comment, his attention on Lyanna. “Just a guest,” he said smoothly. “Let’s keep moving. Tonight is about us.”

Jamie leaned in closer, whispering to Lyanna with a grin, “Ah, don’t let him fool you. There’s always someone fascinated by Rhaegar. You’ll have stories to tell later.”

Lyanna’s grin widened mischievously. “Oh, trust me. I intend to tease him about it endlessly.”

The two moved through the gallery together, hand in hand at times, signaling without words that they were no longer just acquaintances in the high-society circle but a couple — publicly, firmly, and fully aware of it. Jamie, meanwhile, shadowed them playfully, giving sly remarks about Lyanna’s charm, Rhaegar’s stiff composure, and the many admirers who might notice the new pairing. Arthur followed more subtly, smiling quietly at the banter and enjoying the effortless dynamic between Lyanna and Rhaegar.

By the time they reached a display of abstract sculptures, Lyanna whispered to Rhaegar, “I can’t wait to tell him later what he’s missing. Your admirers, your social awkwardness… he’ll love it.”

Rhaegar laughed softly, squeezing her hand. “Then let’s make sure we survive the evening first.”

Jon Connington approached, his movements precise, his gaze settling on Rhaegar with that same familiar intensity. He let his eyes sweep Lyanna in passing, a faint, imperceptible sneer in the corner of his mouth.

“Rhaegar,” Jon began smoothly, though each word was carefully measured, “I must admit, I’m surprised to see someone… else accompanying you tonight. I would have thought your presence would require only the company of those who truly understand these circles.”

Lyanna, sensing the underlying implication, arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint, playful smirk. “I see. So, I’m the novelty this evening? How… flattering.”

Rhaegar, trying not to show his discomfort, shifted slightly, keeping a protective hand lightly on hers. “Jon, may I introduce you properly? My girlfriend, Lyanna Stark of the NorthStark Property Development Corp.”

Jon’s gaze flicked fully to her, with a little shock though lasted for a short second, and went back into cool and assessing. “Ah… I see. Well, congratulations. You’ve claimed your place quite confidently.” His tone, though polite, carried a hint of condescension. “I must say, the audacity is… remarkable.”

Lyanna’s grin widened, subtle amusement lighting her eyes. “Audacity or simply good taste? I wonder which, sir…?”

Jon’s thin smile faltered for a split second. “Connington. Jon Connington,” he said smoothly, his voice steady, though the faint edge of irritation lingered. “I trust your evening will be… satisfactory, then, Miss Stark?”

“Indeed,” Lyanna replied, bowing her head in mock politeness, “though I suppose only time will tell if your judgment of my audacity is accurate.”

Rhaegar’s fingers brushed against hers, offering comfort, as his lips twitched in restrained amusement. “Do try to behave,” he murmured softly, clearly aware of the tension in Jon’s stare.

Jon’s eyes lingered a moment longer, his admiration for Rhaegar barely concealed, though now mingled with a polite, restrained competitiveness. “Very well. I shall watch with interest,” he said, finally turning on his heel with a tight-lipped smile, muttering something under his breath as he moved to the edges of the gallery, clearly irritated but maintaining his composure.

Lyanna’s laughter was soft but unmistakable, drawing Rhaegar’s eyes. “See? He can barely hide it. Amusement, irritation… or a mix of both. Entertaining, don’t you think?”

Arthur, who had been observing quietly, chuckled. “Ah, yes. The subtle sting of civility. Nicely done.”

Jamie leaned in, elbowing Lyanna lightly. “I think we just witnessed a masterclass in uncomfortable admiration. And you,” he said, nodding at Lyanna, “delivered it flawlessly.”

Elia laughed quietly, smoothing her dress. “And Oberyn agrees. The tension suits you two—quite the spectacle, in a proper way.”

Oberyn, arms crossed, smirked from a nearby sculpture. “Subtle, elegant… and satisfying. Well done all around.”

Lyanna squeezed Rhaegar’s hand, grinning up at him. “I think the lesson is clear: a new girlfriend can ruffle old admirers just enough to keep things… interesting.”

Rhaegar exhaled, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. “You do have a talent for this, don’t you?”

Lyanna winked. “Only when inspired.”

The group moved on through the gallery together, hand in hand at times, their presence as a couple now public and confidently displayed, with occasional playful nudges and whispers from friends punctuating the sophisticated rhythm of the evening.

The city lights shimmered below as Lyanna and Rhaegar settled into the quiet rooftop bistro with Arthur, Jamie, Elia, and Oberyn. The soft clink of glasses and low hum of conversation created a private bubble away from the gallery crowd.

Lyanna leaned slightly against Rhaegar, who brushed his thumb over hers as they shared a smile. “I think we survived the gallery without any incidents,” she murmured.

Rhaegar gave a faint smile. “Thanks to you keeping Jon Connington at bay,” he replied softly.

Jamie, smirking, leaned back in his chair. “Exquisite, Stark. I’ve never seen someone reduce an admirer to silent misery so efficiently. Rhaegar, you’re lucky.”

Arthur chuckled, examining Lyanna’s amused expression. “I’ll say. She’s subtle, lethal, and completely unbothered. Impressive, Miss Stark.”

Lyanna grinned, giving Rhaegar’s hand a squeeze. “Subtle, lethal, and ridiculously charming. You got it, Arthur.”

Elia raised an eyebrow with a sly smile. “Lethal… sounds like a warning.”

Oberyn leaned in. “And entertaining to watch. Rhaegar, be careful, or I might start taking notes on your misfortunes.”

Rhaegar chuckled, shaking his head, then gestured for the conversation to shift. “On a more serious note… Robert. You should all be aware of the current situation.”

Arthur leaned forward, interested. “Go on.”

Rhaegar’s tone grew measured. “Robert has been formally removed as heir for StagMotors and the other Baratheon holdings. The decision was made by his father, Steffon. The information hasn’t been made public yet.”

Lyanna added, “Ned also observed Robert’s behavior at the Vale. He’s unpredictable, and some of his decisions are… worrying. He might act rashly if he feels cornered or humiliated.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. “And there could be people willing to help him, connections we don’t know about yet. Allies who could facilitate his ambitions or… mischief.”

Jamie’s expression darkened slightly. “He’s already been spotted around King’s Landing. Not at the gallery tonight—his family didn’t attend—but it seems he’s wandering the city, keeping tabs. I’d say it’s only a matter of time before his presence matters.”

Oberyn frowned. “So even while we strategize, we have to account for unknown variables. Someone might assist him without us realizing it.”

Elia added quietly, “And subtle actions now could escalate quickly if he feels threatened or dismissed. We need to anticipate the ripple effects.”

Lyanna sighed, taking a deep breath. “Agreed. Awareness, observation, and caution. Ned made his decision to completely step back from Robert’s influence—and we need to support that without provoking unnecessary conflict.”

Rhaegar squeezed her hand, grateful for her steadiness. “Exactly. We anticipate, prepare, and intervene only when necessary. No public spectacle.”

The conversation drifted back to lighter topics, interspersed with teasing and playful remarks about the evening’s gallery banter. Jamie continued to jab at Lyanna’s charm and Rhaegar’s social awkwardness, Arthur quietly noted the effortless rapport between the couple, and Elia and Oberyn teased with knowing smiles.

As the evening wound down, the group lingered over the last sips of wine and soft laughter, the weight of the conversation about Robert balanced by playful banter and teasing. Lyanna and Rhaegar shared quiet smiles across the table, subtle nods and glances acknowledging their connection.

Finally, they stood, gathering their things, the warm camaraderie of friends leaving a lightness in the air despite the undercurrent of caution.

Hand in hand, Lyanna and Rhaegar stepped out of the rooftop bistro into the crisp night. The city lights shimmered around them, the sounds of King’s Landing settling into a late-night hum. Their fingers intertwined, a quiet anchor against the unknowns still lurking beyond the night.

Together, they walked toward the car, the night open and full of possibilities, their laughter mingling with the soft breeze, leaving the gallery, the teasing, and the subtle tensions behind.

Chapter Text

Targaryen Residence

Morning sunlight streamed through the wide glass windows of the Targaryen residence, cutting through the soft haze of steam rising from mugs of coffee and plates of fresh fruit. The house had the faint scent of something sweet—Rhaella’s preference for jasmine tea mixed with the citrus polish used by the staff. Somewhere in the background, a baby’s coo echoed faintly, followed by the gentle shuffle of a nurse’s steps.

Lyanna had grown used to these mornings. She sat at the dining table beside Rhaella, still dressed in her sleep shirt and one of Rhaegar’s sweaters, hair tied up loosely in a braid. Rhaella was flipping through a magazine, her reading glasses perched low on her nose. Across from them, Rhaegar typed something quickly on his tablet, focused but not tense—unlike the first week Lyanna had arrived, when work seemed to shadow every moment.

Daenerys’ soft cry from the living room made Rhaella look up with a smile. “Oh, she’s awake again. That girl never misses her morning audience.”

Lyanna grinned. “She probably just wants to remind us who really runs the house.”

Rhaegar chuckled softly, glancing up from his tablet. “You’d be surprised how right you are. She already has my mother wrapped around her finger.”

Rhaella gave him a look over her glasses. “And her older brother, if I recall correctly. You act like she’s made of glass.”

“I just don’t like hearing her cry,” Rhaegar said, defensive but amused.

Lyanna leaned her chin on her hand, teasing. “Imagine that—Rhaegar Targaryen, conqueror of boardrooms, defeated by a four-month-old.”

Rhaegar gave her a dry look, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Maybe,” she said, smiling brightly. “It’s nice to see you so… human.”

Rhaella laughed softly. “He needs someone around who reminds him to breathe. He’s always been far too serious.”

Lyanna looked over at Rhaegar, whose expression softened at that. “I think he’s getting better at that,” she said, her voice gentle now. “Slowly, but surely.”

There was a small, meaningful silence. Even Rhaegar didn’t have a comeback for that one. Then Rhaella rose, smoothing her robe.

“Well, I’ll check on the little queen before she starts demanding another audience,” she said. “You two behave yourselves—and eat something solid, please. Coffee isn’t breakfast.”

She left with a smile, her steps unhurried. The air she left behind felt warm, lived-in, and a little too quiet.

Lyanna leaned back, watching Rhaegar type a few more lines before setting the tablet aside. “You know,” she said softly, “this house… it feels different now. I don’t know if it’s the baby, or your mom, or—”

“Or you?” Rhaegar interrupted mildly, eyes glinting.

Lyanna rolled her eyes. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Not when you make it too easy.”

She laughed, reaching for her coffee. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Rhaegar only smiled faintly and reached across the table to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. “It was.”

For a moment, the room stilled—just quiet morning light, the faint hum of the city below, and the baby’s coo from the next room. It felt simple, like something ordinary people got to have every day. Lyanna realized she liked that thought.

The midmorning sun filtered through the gauzy curtains of the Targaryen sunroom, a space that smelled faintly of orchids and lemon polish. Rhaella sat by the wide window with a cup of jasmine tea, her hair pinned neatly, a quiet grace about her that always made Lyanna straighten up a bit without realizing it.

Lyanna walked in with a mug of coffee and paused. “You always pick the best rooms in the house,” she said lightly, sitting opposite her. “You could see half of King’s Landing from here.”

Rhaella smiled without looking up from her tea. “You sound like Rhaegar. He always says this is where he thinks best.” She lifted her gaze, eyes kind and knowing. “Though I have a feeling you didn’t come here to think.”

Lyanna laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe I just wanted company.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Rhaella took a slow sip, studying her. “You’ve been here for what—three weeks now? Long enough to get comfortable. Long enough to start stealing my son’s sweaters, I see.”

Lyanna flushed and glanced down at the oversized knit she was wearing. “They’re just… cozy.”

“Mm-hmm,” Rhaella said with mock seriousness, hiding a smile behind her cup. “You know, when a woman starts borrowing clothes, that’s usually a sign of something.”

Lyanna gave a helpless laugh. “You’re very nosy, you know that?”

Rhaella set her tea down, eyes glinting. “I warned you I would be. I’ve raised a very private son, and now he’s suddenly… smiling at breakfast, taking his time with coffee, not running off to the office the moment he finishes a call. Naturally, I have questions.”

Lyanna tried to suppress her grin. “You sound like you’re interrogating me.”

“Oh, not at all. This is just curiosity,” Rhaella said, leaning back comfortably. “But if I were interrogating you, I’d ask: what exactly are you and my son now?”

Lyanna hesitated, then let out a breath. “We’re… together,” she said finally, her tone calm, honest. “We decided a while back—when I came here, actually. We just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it until things felt right.”

Rhaella’s smile softened. “And now?”

Lyanna smiled, too, fiddling with her mug. “Now it feels right. He’s… different when he’s with me, I think. Or maybe I’m just seeing a part of him most people don’t.”

“You are,” Rhaella said, her voice gentle. “He doesn’t let people in easily. I can’t remember the last time he looked this at ease with someone who wasn’t family—or Arthur.”

Lyanna chuckled. “Arthur’s been keeping score, I think. He’s already teased me enough.”

“Oh, good,” Rhaella said. “It’s important someone keeps him humble.”

They both laughed quietly, and Rhaella reached across the small table, her tone softening. “Lyanna, I’m glad you’re here. Truly. My son has always carried too much on his shoulders. If you’re helping him remember that life isn’t just meetings and expectations… then I’m grateful.”

Lyanna’s throat tightened a little. She nodded. “He does the same for me, too. More than he knows.”

Rhaella gave a knowing look, then smirked slightly. “You know, if he ever starts overthinking again, just distract him. Preferably with something he can’t reason his way out of.”

Lyanna laughed. “I’ll… keep that in mind.”

“Oh, please do. It worked on his father.”

They both burst into laughter at that, the sound light and unrestrained.

Then Daenerys’ small cry echoed from the nursery again, and Rhaella rose, smoothing her skirt. “Duty calls. You stay here, finish your coffee, and pretend I didn’t pry.”

Lyanna grinned. “Too late.”

Rhaella smiled warmly, touching Lyanna’s shoulder as she passed. “Welcome to the family, dear. Whether you like it or not.”

As Rhaella left, Lyanna leaned back in her seat, warmth spreading in her chest. The morning felt brighter somehow—like the house itself had accepted her presence, quietly, naturally.

The sun hung low over King’s Landing, bathing the skyline in molten gold. Lyanna stood on the narrow terrace outside Rhaegar’s office — their terrace now — where ivy climbed the steel rails and the city stretched endlessly below.

It wasn’t new to her. She had been here before — the very first day she arrived, when Rhaegar had pulled her away from the hum of the boardroom to “get some air.” Since then, it had become a quiet ritual between them: a place where words came easier, and the noise of the world felt very far away.

Today, the city hummed softly beneath them, traffic glinting like slow-moving fireflies.

“I see you’ve upgraded your view,” Lyanna said, leaning on the railing beside him. “I think the sunset’s showing off tonight.”

Rhaegar smiled faintly, the light catching the sharp line of his jaw. “It does that when it knows you’re watching.”

She shot him a teasing look. “Flattery. You must be in a good mood.”

“Maybe I am.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the railing. “You’ve been here almost three weeks, Lyanna. I’ve gotten used to seeing you in this office, hearing you argue with my team, telling me when I’m being too cautious.”

“You mean when I’m right,” she corrected.

“That too.” His smile widened just slightly.

For a moment, they just stood there — the hum of the city below, the slow warmth of dusk around them. Lyanna could feel the heaviness of time starting to creep in — the unspoken awareness that her stay in King’s Landing was coming to an end soon.

She tried to sound casual. “You’re going to miss me when I go.”

Rhaegar turned to her, the expression on his face soft but certain. “I already do. And you haven’t even left yet.”

That made her look away for a beat, pretending to study the skyline. “That’s not fair,” she murmured. “You’re supposed to make it easier for me to leave, not harder.”

“I’m not very good at pretending,” he admitted. “And I don’t intend to make it easy.”

Lyanna laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “You sound so sure of yourself.”

“I’m sure about you.” His tone was quiet but steady, the kind that didn’t ask for reassurance — it offered it.

The light shifted again, the sun dipping lower, painting everything in copper. Lyanna’s chest tightened in that complicated way — where comfort and ache met halfway.

She glanced at him. “You know, I used to think the South was too polished for me. Too… put together. But somehow, this place feels like it fits now.”

“It’s not the place,” Rhaegar said. “It’s the company.”

She smiled at that — small, real, and helpless.

He reached for her hand then, fingers brushing hers before finding their familiar fit. “You’ll come back,” he said quietly, not as a question but a promise.

“I will,” she replied just as softly. “You might regret that.”

“Never.”

The world below them moved on — horns, voices, the rhythm of a city too alive to stop — but up here, they existed in a softer kind of stillness.

Rhaegar’s thumb traced gentle circles on her palm before he leaned in, brushing a light kiss against her cheek. “For now,” he murmured, “let’s just stay like this.”

Lyanna nodded, closing her eyes briefly as the last streak of sunlight disappeared behind the skyline.

And for a while, they did — two silhouettes against the fading sky, holding on to a moment neither wanted to end.

The Hangout: “Golden Hour at The Red Keep Lounge”

It was one of those evenings when the city seemed to sigh — when the sun dipped low and painted everything in amber. The glass towers of King’s Landing shimmered against the sea, and from the rooftop of The Red Keep Lounge, the view stretched endlessly across the bay.

The lounge was one of ITC’s quieter properties, the kind reserved for friends and family. The staff knew exactly when to disappear, and the music — smooth jazz mixed with the faint hum of the city — never tried to intrude.

Lyanna had been there for a week now, long enough for her northern accent to start sounding familiar to the staff, long enough for her laughter to echo comfortably in Rhaegar’s circle.

Elia was the first to spot her when she arrived. “Finally! I was about to send Arthur to fetch you.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “And risk being the errand boy? Not likely.”

Lyanna grinned. “You’d enjoy the walk. The attention, too.”

Oberyn leaned back in his chair, a half-smile on his face. “You’re learning fast, wolf girl.”

“Occupational hazard,” she said, sliding into the seat beside Rhaegar. “You all talk too much.”

Rhaegar’s lips curved into a small smile — the kind that didn’t reach his eyes but always softened his features. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“I only talk when it’s worth saying something,” she replied, lifting her glass as the server placed it down.

Arthur chuckled. “And yet somehow, you always win the argument.”

“She’s been spending too much time with Rhaegar,” Elia teased. “Soon she’ll start writing in metaphors.”

“Oh no,” Oberyn said dramatically. “Spare us another Targaryen poet.”

Rhaegar only smirked, eyes lowering to his drink. “You all pretend you don’t read my metaphors until they end up in company memos.”

Jamie laughed into his glass. “True. That one about ‘forging a legacy of light in a kingdom of smoke’ made it to three internal posters.”

“I liked that one,” Lyanna said, genuinely. “Even if it sounded like something out of a rock opera.”

Rhaegar turned to her, mock-offended. “A rock opera?”

“It’s a compliment,” she insisted, smiling. “Dramatic, heartfelt, and slightly ridiculous.”

That made everyone laugh — even Arthur, who nearly spilled his drink. Elia dabbed her eyes, still giggling. “You know, Lyanna, I think you might be the only person who can say that to Rhaegar and live.”

“Maybe she’s under diplomatic immunity,” Oberyn suggested.

“Or temporary insanity,” Arthur added.

“Or,” Jamie said, pointing with his glass, “Rhaegar’s finally met someone who can out-stubborn him.”

The laughter faded slowly, but the warmth lingered. Around them, the skyline deepened into dusk, lights flickering on across the bay like distant stars. A light breeze swept across the terrace, and for a brief second, Lyanna leaned into it, her hair catching the glow of the city’s golden hour.

Rhaegar caught himself staring — not just at her, but at how she seemed to belong there without effort. How she spoke to everyone like she’d known them for years, how she laughed without calculation.

Later, as the night deepened, their conversation turned toward lighter mischief. Arthur had produced a deck of cards from nowhere (“emergency entertainment,” he claimed), and soon they were deep in a chaotic game of King’s Bluff.

“Lyanna, are you bluffing again?” Oberyn demanded, narrowing his eyes.

She smiled sweetly. “Would I ever?”

“Yes,” said Arthur, Elia, and Jamie in unison.

Rhaegar folded his cards. “I’m not playing against her again. She’s too dangerous.”

“That’s what you said about Elia,” Arthur reminded him.

“Yes,” Elia said smugly, “and then I won half his office’s coffee budget.”

“That was charity,” Rhaegar countered.

“That,” she said, “was defeat.”

Lyanna laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. Rhaegar leaned over instinctively to steady it, his hand brushing hers for half a second — long enough for both to notice. Neither commented, but the silence that followed had a weight all its own.

Jamie cleared his throat theatrically. “Right, since the King in the North and the Prince of Spreadsheets are distracted, I’ll take my winnings and retire victorious.”

“Coward,” Oberyn said, but he was smiling.

By the time the last of the crowd had thinned and the servers began quietly clearing tables, the group lingered under the glow of the terrace lights.

Elia was the first to stand. “I should go home before the dogs turn the living room into a jungle again.”

“I’ll drive you,” Oberyn said automatically, finishing his drink.

“Of course you will, you’re not only my brother but my occasional chauffeur.” she muttered fondly, linking her arm with his.

Arthur and Jamie followed soon after, leaving Rhaegar and Lyanna alone for a few minutes longer — the city lights reflecting faintly off the glass panels surrounding them.

“You survived another King’s Landing evening,” Rhaegar said.

“Barely,” she joked, gathering her things. “Though your friends are surprisingly tolerable.”

He smiled. “You mean except Oberyn.”

“Especially Oberyn,” she countered. “He’s impossible not to like.”

“That’s what makes him dangerous.”

Lyanna tilted her head, studying him. “You say that like you’re not dangerous yourself.”

“I’m not,” Rhaegar said softly. “At least, not to you.”

The words hung there — half-sincere, half-confessional — until Lyanna broke eye contact and glanced toward the elevators.

“Come on,” she said gently. “Before your staff starts gossiping.”

He chuckled under his breath, following her toward the exit. “Too late for that.”

They walked side by side through the quiet lobby, the soft hum of the city bleeding through the glass walls. Most of the lounge lights had dimmed, leaving long shadows that followed their steps. Rhaegar’s jacket hung over his arm; Lyanna carried her clutch in both hands, absentmindedly running her thumb along the gold clasp.

Neither spoke for a while. The silence between them was comfortable — not empty, but heavy with all the unspoken things they both somehow understood.

Outside, the night air was cooler, scented faintly with salt and smoke from the harbor. Rhaegar’s car waited near the curb, its engine already purring softly. The driver was nowhere in sight — probably keeping a discreet distance as always.

Rhaegar opened the door for her, the small, old-fashioned gesture drawing a faint smile from Lyanna.

“You really don’t have to keep doing that,” she said, slipping inside.

He leaned slightly, one hand resting on the frame. “I know. I just want to.”

She glanced up at him, the corner of her mouth lifting. “You’re impossible.”

“Only selectively,” he said, closing the door gently.

When he walked around to the driver’s side, the street was nearly empty. A few distant headlights passed now and then, their reflections flashing across the glass of the ITC building. Inside the car, Lyanna looked out the window, watching the city flicker alive with midnight lights — her reflection faint and ghostlike against the glass.

Rhaegar slid into his seat, started the car, and for a moment, neither of them moved. He looked at her — really looked — and something in his chest tightened.

“You’ll have to leave soon,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

She didn’t turn. “I know.”

“You could stay longer.”

“I could,” she said. “But you know I won’t.”

There was no sadness in her tone, just truth.

He nodded once, then eased the car into motion. The city moved past them in glimmers — glass towers, neon signs, and the distant hum of the port. The kind of silence that sat between two people who didn’t need to fill it.

Lyanna glanced his way once, catching the faint light in his eyes, and smiled. “You know, I think I’ll miss this city.”

He smiled back, brief and quiet. “It’ll miss you too.”

The car turned the corner, the taillights glowing red as it disappeared into the avenue.

From across the street, in the dim halo of a half-lit sign, a man watched.

“You’re quiet,” she said suddenly, catching his gaze.

He looked down, half-smiling. “Just enjoying the view.”

“Of the city?”

He hesitated. “Something like that.”

Elia, ever perceptive, pretended not to notice — though the tiny smirk she hid behind her glass said otherwise.

Hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, he leaned against a parked motorcycle — the kind that didn’t belong in this part of town. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was tight, his eyes sharp.

He watched the car pull away, his reflection flickering briefly in the side mirror as it passed.

Then, without a word, Robert Baratheon straightened, tossed his cigarette onto the pavement, and crushed it beneath his boot.

The faint scent of smoke lingered long after he was gone. 

Farewell in the Morning Light

The next morning broke soft and golden, sunlight spilling through the wide glass windows of the Targaryen residence. The air was calm, filled with the scent of brewed coffee and sea breeze drifting from Blackwater Bay.

Lyanna’s bags were already by the door — neat, minimal, the kind of order that Rhaella quietly admired. Rhaella herself had been up early, ensuring breakfast was ready and fussing over Lyanna as though she were sending off her own daughter.

“Promise me you’ll tell your father I expect him to visit soon,” Rhaella said as she embraced her tightly. “He still owes me a proper afternoon of gossip — and a few apologies for keeping you away so long.”

Lyanna laughed softly, hugging her back. “I’ll tell him. And thank you — for everything. You’ve been so kind.”

Rhaella smiled, brushing Lyanna’s cheek affectionately. “You brought light into this house, my dear. It’s been far too quiet without someone to tease Rhaegar properly.”

Before Lyanna could respond, Aerys appeared — composed in his crisp morning suit, a mug of coffee in hand. His tone was even, but his eyes carried that rare warmth he reserved for very few.

“So, the wolf finally returns to Winterfell,” he said with a small, knowing smile.

Lyanna grinned. “For now. They’ll start to think I’ve defected to the South if I stay any longer.”

Aerys chuckled — a sound that still caught Rhaella’s attention when it happened. “Your mother used to say the same thing whenever she’d visit. She hated leaving this city… even if she’d never admit it.”

Lyanna’s expression softened. “Dad says she loved the chaos of it — the noise, the pace. She said it reminded her of being alive.”

Aerys nodded, his gaze distant for a moment. “Lyarra had fire in her. That kind of spirit doesn’t just fade. You carry it, you know.”

Lyanna’s lips curved into a quiet smile. “That’s the best compliment I could get.”

“It’s the truth,” he said, his voice gentler now. “She was my fiercest friend — and she would’ve been proud of you.”

Lyanna blinked, the unexpected tenderness catching her off guard. “Thank you… that means a lot.”

He inclined his head slightly, then added with a faint smirk, “And she’d also tell you to keep my son on his toes. He needs that.”

Lyanna laughed softly, glancing toward Rhaegar. “Don’t worry, I plan to.”

Rhaegar smiled faintly but said nothing, the warmth in his eyes saying enough.

“Take her to the airport,” Aerys told him, straightening. “And make sure she eats something before the flight. You both have a bad habit of skipping breakfast when you’re sentimental.”

Rhaegar exhaled through a small laugh. “Yes, sir.”

Rhaella rolled her eyes fondly. “Oh, let them be, Aerys. They’ll say goodbye in their own way.” 

Outside, the sun was rising over the skyline as Rhaegar carried Lyanna’s bag to the car. The driveway glowed faintly gold, the air humming with quiet.

Neither spoke much on the ride — it was the kind of silence that had grown between them, comfortable and unforced.

At the terminal, Lyanna adjusted her jacket, glancing up at him. “You’re going to pretend you’re fine with me leaving, aren’t you?”

Rhaegar gave a small, lopsided smile. “I’m fine.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

He chuckled quietly. “Only with you.”

They stood close, the world around them a blur of movement and noise — taxis, travelers, the low hum of airport chatter.

“I’ll call when I land,” she promised.

“You better.”

“And don’t brood too much,” she teased. “Your mother might think I’ve abandoned you.”

“She already thinks you’re family,” he said softly.

Lyanna smiled — warm, genuine, a little wistful. “That means a lot.”

For a moment, neither moved. Then Rhaegar leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’ll come back.”

“I will,” she said. “Someone has to keep you human.”

He laughed under his breath, and she rose on her toes to kiss him — soft and certain, more promise than goodbye.

“Goodbye, Rhaegar.”

“Goodbye, Lyanna.”

He stood there as she disappeared into the terminal, watching until her figure was lost in the crowd. The morning sun caught the glass of the departures hall, his reflection faintly mirroring hers — two halves of something not yet finished.

And just beyond the rush of passengers, unseen and unmoving, a shadow lingered — watching, waiting.

As Rhaegar’s car faded from sight, the quiet of the terminal gave way to the steady rhythm of the city — life moving on, as it always did. But in the distance, near the parking deck where shadows stretched long under the rising sun, a figure remained still.

Robert Baratheon watched, jaw set, eyes fixed on the direction Lyanna had gone. What began as curiosity had curdled into something sharper — a question, a suspicion, and perhaps, the first crack in the peace between houses long bound by friendship.

The day was young, but the air carried a faint tension, one that neither the wolf nor the dragon yet sensed.