A Dragon In Wolf's Clothing ~A Game of Thrones fan fiction~

Chapter Twenty: The Marrage Of Two Bastards

The last few nights had been a nightmare. Lyanna hadn't slept, and neither had Winter. The direwolf spent the nights pacing up and down by her son's cradle, whilst Lyanna herself sat on the edge of the bed, sharpening her dagger and Joffrey's wedding sword, whilst keeping her bow and arrows close. The guards which had been stationed outside of her door hadn't slept much either, but they seemed to be a lot more alert than Lyanna.

Sleeping in the Tower of the Hand was comforting for her. She was closer to her family this way, and closer to the Stark guards, who would be able to protect her much better than Baratheon or Lannister guards ever could.

Not only had Lyanna been surrounded guards, but Alize had been with her constantly. The handmaiden had helped her feel safe in ways that guards could not. Alize had helped with the baby when Lyanna wasn't sure what to do, especially when it came to choosing his name.

"What are you going to call him?" she had asked the night before and Lyanna tried - more like struggled - to get him to sleep.

"I never thought of any names," she cursed herself, crading the small boy into her chest.

"I chose all of my sibling's names, my mother always said that carrying and birthing was the easy part, naming was the difficult stage," Alize commented. "One time, she was so stuck for a name, I suggested she name it after my father, though she would have sooner killed herself than do that,"

Lyanna looked down at her son. Her real father would never see her, let alone his grandson. Suddenly, a name seemed to stand out to her.

"I'm going to name him Brandon, after my uncle... I mean, my father. I'm still getting used to thinking of him like that," she said rather firmly, beaming down at the little boy. "Prince Brandon Jon Baratheon, the first of his name,"

***

"My Lady," Lyanna heard a call from behind her as she walked back to her uncle's solar with Sansa and Arya, Brandon sleeping in her arms. She tightened her grip on her son as she turned to face Lord Baelish.

"My Lord, to what to I owe the pleasure?" She forced a false smile onto her face. Lyanna turned to Sansa, laying Brandon into her arms. "Take Brandon and go see father, I'll be there shortly," She hated to see him go where she couldn't watch over him, even if it was her sister he was with.

"I merely wished to congratulate you, having a child is not something all women survive," he said, rather smugly. It sounded like he knew something to do with the assassins in her room the few nights before, but she didn't want to question him.

"Thank you, my Lord, if that's all," she turned to walk off in the other direction, where Sansa and Arya had moments ago, but his hand reached out, taking her wrist into his grip, stopping her.

"You look remarkably like your father, you know," he said, his tone never straying from being sly. "You also look like your mother, though you only see the resemblance if you're looking,"

"Thank you, Lord Baelish, though I don't know who my mother is, my father never told me about her," she said coolly, trying to stay calm, despite getting the feeling he knew her secret.

"Pity," he said, his eyes crawling over her face. She stood her ground, looking him dead in the eye. Eventually, he let go of her wrist and she began to walk away. "Knowledge is power, you know, and that piece of knowledge is something people would kill for,"

She kept her facade up as she walked away, hiding the fact that she had stiffened upon hearing those words.

'Knowledge is Power' is Baelish's words. He sent the assassins.