Book 1: Prints in the Snow

Chapter XVIII • A Deal Struck

Lyon watched the shadows from under the door. There were two from what she could tell, with armored feet that made loud footsteps outside. The wine had forced her to sit, lest she tip over. It was difficult to remember when she had first noticed the shadows, but they had been there for some time. The sun had begun to set, and after a brief discussion between her two keepers at her door, which sounded only like nonsensical mumbling, she had clumsily pulled her chair to sit and watch them. She imagined they were her father's guard. Perhaps he'd taken what she had said to heart, though it was doubtful.

Raphael's words had been pounding through her mind in sync with the growing ache in her temple. A dull ball of burning fear had settled at the base of her throat- or maybe it was just the wine trying to come back up. Lyon had long since opened her window for air, but the breeze did little. While the wine made her rather warm, the evening air made her fingers tremble, although that couldn't be entirely attributed to the strangely cool evening.

There was a very strange feeling to this evening. She decided that rather quickly.

There was no sense in simply sitting through it, she decided soon after.

Lyon rose gradually, finding her feet as they came to her. She set her goblet down, lightly easing the door open and she came to it. Her assumption had been right. Two of her father's guards stood outside her door.

"What's the meaning of two guards posted outside my door tonight, hm?"

They both turned to her. She barely caught their eyes briefly meeting. "Lord Stark sent us, my Lady."

"Don't 'my Lady' me. Why did he send you two gentlemen to my door?"

"To... guard you, my- ahem."

Lyon's brow raised. "You spectacular buffoon. I'll go find out myself then." She made to leave.

"Wait!" The other guard spoke up, this one several years the other's senior. He had a gruff look about him that Lyon could appreciate. She stopped several paces away and cast a look over her shoulder. "Your father... he's been injured, my Lady."

She blinked several times. "Excuse me?"

"He took about a dozen of his guard into Kingslanding, but he was attacked by Jaime Lannister. Jory was slain, and your father injured but-"

"Stop. Stop. Where is he?"

"He was brought back not long ago. He is resting in his chambers and is being seen to."

Lyon didn't bother uttering thanks of any sort. She sped down the hallway as fast as her legs could take her, though stumbling several times. When she made it to her father's rooms, several guards stood outside. None tried to stop her as she entered. They could see the frantic worry in her eyes.

Ned Stark lay upon his bed, a physician close by, wrapping the gaping wound that had slashed through Ned's leg. Lyon came to his side, sitting upon the closest armchair and scooting herself closer.

"He'll be alright, won't he?"

The physician looked up from his work, a vague frown upon his lip. "In due time."

That was all that was needed to silence Lyon, yet she didn't move from her spot. Not once did she rise from her chair that night. Sleep came every now and then to take her for a couple of hours at a time, but not for too long. Such worrisome thoughts wouldn't allow her to succumb to anything more than sporadic naps. Dreams didn't take her either, however, the sickening thought of never seeing Jory again seemed to plague her throughout the night. Ned's feverish hand she would reach for, but the stillness of it offered little comfort. Every now and then her finger would touch the spot where his heart would beat through his wrist, and she'd find reassurance with his steady pulse.