Summary:
Reactions to letters...
Notes:
Hey!
Warning:- My story is NOT a Stark-centric or Stark-friendly fic (So, all Lyanna Stark fans must be aware that she sounds like a selfish, spoiled, pouty lady to me.) Also, the rivalry between Lannister and Stark is going on strong...
OK. So, I would like to thank the spectacular love_tv_shows who betas this story for me! (Ao3)Rickard Stark sat in his Solar, lost in thought. King Aerys Targaryen was nothing short of deranged, if could believe in Maester Jacelyn. His reverie was interrupted when a knock sounded at his door. 'Come in', he beckoned. Lyarra, his beloved wife, entered. 'Rickard...' she entreated. He shook his head. 'No.' He knew what was in her mind, knew it was futile to refuse her. It was a royal invitation, and, as such, tantamount to an order.
Yet, the wolfsblood in him longed to refuse. Thus, stubbornly, he persisted. 'I will not accompany you to Casterly Rock. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Besides, he thought, I do not fancy breaking bread with those pompous Lannisters. 'Oh, come on, Rick.' she countered, 'Your brother Jon shall do fine.' Jon Stark will be just fine, he knew. But, Rickard was ready to go to any lengths to avoid the power hungry, grasping Lannisters and their ilk.
'Lyarra-' he pleaded. 'Rickard Stark. All the Lords Paramount and their bannermen are to be present at Casterly Rock two moons from now. You do not wish to incur the King's wrath. So, stop pouting, and get ready. Now.' Lyarra was always strong willed, Rickard knew. He knew that she was probably better suited to Lordship than him. Even so, it irked him sometimes. Though, he conceded, she had a point. If you incur a mad Targaryen King's wrath, you and your family could find themselves short their heads.
'Fine, Lya.' he assented, having no choice. 'Good.' she replied approvingly. She then walked out of Rickard's Solar, holding the door open.
Then, still in plain sight, she turned and instructed a servant 'Ready the children. Lord Stark is ready.' Rickard was confused for an instant, before realizing what was afoot. 'Lya!' he exclaimed. She stood at the door of his Solar, looking at him boldly. 'Best get ready, My Lord', she lilted cheekily. 'Gods,' thought Rickard, what a woman.
Lyarra strode briskly through the hallways, finally stopping at the nursery. 'Nan!' she called. Nan, often referred to as Old Nan, had been a resident of Winterfell since she was a young girl, which was too many years ago to count. Lyarra felt a rush of affection towards the woman, for she was indispensable to her, minding the children efficiently. Lyarra cast an eye about, looking for her. She found Nan next to little Ben, just over three moons old. She sighed. She had a veritable army of children, little hellions all of them.
Brandon, called Bran, was the eldest, all of seven. He was quite an active boy, taking well to swords. Eddard, often known as Ned, was her second son. He was a sweet, shy boy, too solemn for his age. He was only five, after all. And then came Lyanna. She smiled. Her little wild wolf. All of three, and already running after Bran and Ned for a sword. Last of all was Benjen Stark. He was cute and adorable, well developed for his age, if a little fussy. Lyarra sighed with satisfaction, happy with her lot in life. After all, what more could a Lady want, apart from this?
She busied herself with the children, who were buzzing around, excited for a trip. She led them to the wheelhouse. Fortunately, she had been prepared for departure since the raven arrived, or it would have been horrendous. Lyarra shifted impatiently. Where was Rickard? Finally, she saw her husband emerge, face carefully blank, dressed in a fine doublet of white and gray, the Stark colors. She winced. She would have to convince of the wisdom of an alliance with the Lannisters, she knew...
Joanna stood in the rookery, letter in hand. It was sealed with the Martell sun and spear, and she anticipated what was written in it eagerly. She broke the seal hurriedly.
Dear Joanna, the letter began, Congratulations to you on the birth of your children. Cynthia seems quite excited to meet her siblings. Joanna smiled. Cynthia always was very excitable by nature, and had wanted to become a big sister for ages. Joanna continued reading the letter. Jo, she read, I feel I must warn you that Cynthia's becoming quite a fine swordswoman.
Gods, she thought Joanna. How's Tywin going to take this? Joanna was quite happy with the turn of events, though, for she thought that her daughter, at least, deserved a free life, unrestrained by social constraints. Joanna concentrated, yet again, on the letter. I grieve with you and yours for the loss of Lord Tytos. Joanna almost rolled her eyes. It was a well meant platitude, yet a platitude nonetheless. However, she read further, I am glad to inform you that I, along with Elia and Oberyn, are arriving to Casterly Rock in about a moon's turn, having already reached the Riverlands. Looking forward to seeing you.
With Love,
Arielle Martell.
Reading the ending, Joanna grinned. Having her girlhood friend at Casterly Rock with her would be a rare joy, indeed. She would be grateful if Cynthia was arriving too, for she wanted her to meet her siblings. However, she was at her wit's end on getting Tywin to accept his warrior girl of a daughter. Joanna would have to work on that, she thought.
'Good tidings, Joanna?' someone asked. Startled, Joanna turned, gazing at the Queen. Her courtesies returned quickly, though, and she bobbed a hurried curtsy. 'To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Your Grace?' she asked. 'Rhaegar wanted to look at the ravens.' the Queen stated simply.
Indeed, the Crown Prince was peering rather inquisitively at the ravens, Maester Frenken hard pressed to answer the boy's eager queries. 'However, as I was asking before, did the letter bring good news?'
Joanna nodded. 'Oh, yes. Yes, Your Grace.' she replied. 'Cynthia's returning home. Princess Arielle Martell and her children are accompanying her.
'Oh.' the Queen nodded. 'Did you find a way to solve the problem we were speaking about earlier?' she asked. What? Joanna thought. 'Your Grace, I-' she started, then remembered. Oh, Gods. The King's, uh, affections were the problem. 'No, Your Grace.' she replied. 'Best do soon.' advised the Queen.
Notes:
If you are still sticking with my fic, thank you! :) Note:- There's gonna be a time jump next chapter.

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