Jon and Daenerys, the last Targaryen, reign together seventeen years over the Seven Kingdoms. With their twin son and daughter, Prince Rhaegar and the Princess Lyanna, about to turn eighteen, it is time for the monarchs to forge alliances between th...
Lyanna tries to accept her situation, Jon and Arya discuss an import matter.
A copy of the well and aqueduct map had been made in time and Lyanna had given it to her brother. Coincidental or not, the two had barely crossed paths these days and that brought her some relief.
There was no denying that Rhaegar's words had touched something. And not seeing him helped her to not think about it too much. Keeping focus only on what she knew she needed to do.
She didn't like to admit it, but her brother was partly right at least. She could, should choose. It was the least.
And maybe... maybe it wasn't as bad as she feared. Maybe she could marry someone that would be a nice companion, maybe in time she could even like him.
It was better to think like that. Positively. Even if a part of her screamed in protest at the conformist idea. Still, she had been trying. Especially when she met with Sam, who was a candidate as her future husband.
They weren't close, but Lyanna considered him as friend. After all, there grown up and played together. Well, he played while she read something and looked at the boys one time or another before turning her eyes to the reading again.
Sam was... calm. It was the best definition she had of him. His manner was deeply kind to someone that size. And he was big. Strong. He trained every day in the courtyard and had already won from Rhaegar numerous times, though her brother gradually gave him more trouble over the years.
Not that she attended their practice every day to know that. But she listened to comments. How well they dueled. How the Prince was faster and more agile in his movements and how much stronger Sam was in his. How the fights between the two were considered almost a daily spectacle at court.
Knowing that her brother was spending the days locked with the other Samwell Tarly, Lyanna risked walking into the practice yard in the morning to the happiness of her ladies-in-waiting, especially Sarah Manderly, who shot a sly look at the boys who were training shirtless. Lyanna had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at all the reactions.
Lyanna rarely bothered to watch this. She was not pleased to see the boys striking each other with swords. Trying to hit others with big stakes that could cross a heart. No, no. It caused her tension. Anguish. It made her think of things that they might went to develop those skills. War. Betrayal. Death. Nothing encouraging. Not for her.
Sam had given her a shy smile when he saw her coming through the hollow corridors that surrounded the courtyard. They were a lot of people leaning on the gothic railings, staring for all the violent activity taking place in the center, people who stepped aside to concede her and her "friends" a good place to watch.
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