LAYING WITH LIONS━Jaime Lannister

TWO



"It cannot be true, this must be some horrible dream..." Ayanna said, stepping through the archway into the courtyard. "Jon, have you cut your hair?"

She had spent the morning with Lightbringer, tending to her injured paw. The pup twisted it on a stone while chasing Aalis in the Godswood, and the kennelmaster was forced to tie her up while it healed. Ayanna supposed it was for the best with the royal party's imminent arrival. Confining the little rabble-rouser seemed to be the only way to keep her out of trouble. She knew that Aalis was relieved, at least.

"I'm afraid it's finally happened, dear sister," Robb threw an arm around Jon's shoulders, messing his freshly cropped hair. "Only took three men to hold him down this time." Ayanna snorted.

"That's enough, the both of you," Jon gave Robb a halfhearted shove, and the Stark siblings laughed.

Their moment of fun was a nice reprieve from the seemingly constant nagging of their mother. Jon Snow had wisely elected to give the Stark matriarch a particularly wide berth since news arrived from King's Landing; preparations for the King's arrival had made her even more difficult than usual.

Aalis appeared from the smithery then, looking both ways to ensure no one saw her sneaking out of the apprentice's quarters. It was quite the scandal: The handsome, mousy-haired boy was far below her station, and people had begun to notice their closeness. She spotted her lady and discreetly hurried over to join her.

"Where have you been?" Ayanna asked, feigning obliviousness. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as the girl sidled up beside her.

"Checking to make sure your blade's been sharpened, M'lady," her handmaiden insisted, ears turning pink under the watchful stares of Ayanna and her brothers. She cringed when she noticed Theon Greyjoy nestled between them.

"Bit early for that, isn't it? The forge hasn't even been lit yet," he teased, disregarding her obvious distaste.

"Come, Lady Ayanna," Aalis said, pointedly ignoring the ward, "You'll need to change before the king's party arrives."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Ayanna asked with a coy grin, gesturing to her soiled riding boots and mud-stained pants. Aalis only rolled her eyes and grabbed her hand, tugging the younger girl in the direction of the Great Keep.

"Aye, Ayanna, let your handmaidens pretty you up for the prince!" Theon jeered, sniggering to himself as she was ushered away. Robb and Jon did not laugh. The thought of their wild, northern sister—who snuck out to race them through the Wolfswood and sparred with them when Catelyn Stark's back was turned—being paraded around for the Baratheon boy's benefit did not sit right with either of them. They only hoped that their father felt the same. A royal match was politically advantageous, but Ned Stark had never seemed to value power the way lesser men did.

—

Ayanna was no stranger to rebellion—she liked to think it ran in her blood—but she was also painfully aware of her responsibilities as the daughter of a high lord. Despite her best efforts to drown out Septa Mordane's teachings with play fights and Old Nan's stories of beyond the Wall, years of lectures had left her with a deep understanding of how women played the political game. Every curtsey, coy smile, and strategically melodic laugh would impact her parents' standing in the eyes of the royal family. They would be watching her, and she would be perfect. It was her duty, after all, and the Starks valued duty above all else.

After what felt like hours of scrubbing, trimming, and binding, the servants finally deemed the wolf girl presentable. Ayanna was pleased when she peered into the looking glass and found a proper lady staring back at her. Her mother had handpicked a muted blue gown for her that drew attention to her Tully eyes—arguably, her most striking feature. The collar was subtly decorated with silver blooms, daintily embroidered by Catelyn Stark herself.