Giana woke before dawn in an unfamiliar tent, next to a huge man, whose arms held her tight against his chest. The events of the previous night flooded back to her, and she was torn between a girlish giddiness at the rebellious thrill of losing her virtue, and a sense of pure terror at what her father would do when he found out.

No, not when. If. If he finds out. All her guards had spent that night deep in their cups, and would hardly face Lord Tywin's wrath by telling him they'd let his daughter out of their sights for a whole night. And no one but Robert knew exactly where she'd spent the night, and he didn't even know her name. Besides, she couldn't get with child from this encounter; you couldn't on your first time, she'd heard from gossiping servants. Her father would never have to know.

It wasn't like Cersei was still a maid! Giana still remembered seeing those love marks on her sister's body, and that man's sock in her rooms last year that she claimed was Jaime's. Whoever she had been with then, it certainly wasn't their brother. No, she was seeing someone in secret. If Cersei could do it, right under Lord Tywin's nose, then why couldn't she?

Giana slid out from under the furs, taking care to not wake Robert, but he barely stirred. Hopefully he'd been so drunk that he'd forget this ever happened. She didn't regret it exactly, but it wasn't something she would've done sober. And the thought of her father finding out was truly horrendous.

Gods, she'd made a mistake. A huge mistake.

She quickly got dressed, struggling to lace herself back into her gown from the previous night. It was far too gaudy for early in the morning, so she took one of Robert's plainer travelling cloaks, large enough for her to use as a tent, and pulled the hood up to hide her face and golden hair. It had worked the previous night, after all.

The guards at the entrance to the tent chuckled and made lewd remarks as she passed, believing her to be some common serving girl. Giana ignored them, slightly perturbed; no one had ever dared speak to Lord Tywin's daughter in such a way before.

In the guise of a commoner, no one spared her a second glance, except for a dark-haired girl with a long, sharp face grooming a horse, who eyed her with a raised eyebrow as she set off from Robert's tent. Giana cursed in her head, stomach churning unpleasantly. That was Brandon Stark's sister, the taller, scary-looking one. The Starks were camped not beside but close to Robert, having arrived together. Close enough to have a direct line of sight. She knew she'd been recognised - caught red handed, in fact - and this was not someone she could bribe with Lannister gold to keep quiet.

"Lady Rose, was it?" She asked, heading over, having to fake her usual cheery smile, heart pounding in her chest. "Good morning,"

The girl frowned. "Rosennis. My brothers call me Ross. That'll be what you heard,"

"Of course," Giana fought to keep the smile on her face. Rosennis didn't seem to be trying to be rude. She was just... prickly. Charm had always worked for Giana in the past, and surely she would understand that she hadn't meant any harm? "Well, I'm glad we could be properly introduced now. I'm Giana,"

"Lannister," Rosennis stated. There was a pause as Giana floundered. "I know what you did, you know. There's no need for... this," She waved a disdainful hand.

"What do you mean?" Her tone was strained, on the verge of panic. She had never been a good liar.

"You know what I mean," The girl abruptly stopped brushing the horse, turning to her, unimpressed. "I saw you coming out of Baratheon's tent wearing the same dress from last night,"

Her stomach dropped, hearing it said out loud. At least she had lowered her voice, so no one but the two of them could hear.

"You can't tell anyone!" Giana felt like crying. "Please, you can't, my father - " But why would Rosennis Stark have any loyalty to her, over her own sister?

"Gods, you don't need to beg," She said, impatient. Giana broke off, stung. No one had ever spoken to her like that, except Cersei, and she was largely numb to her sister's cruelty. "If your father found out, he would attempt to wed you to Baratheon, surely?"

"I - " Giana was confused. "I mean... most probably. But he is already betrothed to Lady Lyanna, and - "

"Lyanna doesn't want to marry Robert," Rosennis said, a strange, determined look on her face. "If he found out, Lord Tywin would be furious enough to demand Robert marry you instead. You get to be Lady of the Stormlands, Lyanna gets to stay at home, and Robert would like someone spineless like you much better in the long run,"

"Spineless?" Giana shook her head, letting that slide. "That's... mad. Wouldn't your father be dreadfully angry?"

"At Robert," Rosennis shrugged. "The King's cousin. He couldn't do anything about it,"

Giana was realising this situation was getting out of hand. This was worse than if Rosennis had been outraged on her sisters behalf. Though perhaps not. At least this avoided any yelling for her brothers and waking up half the camp.

"But I'd still have to tell my father what I did! And everyone would be so angry. Please can't you just not tell anyone? I didn't mean any harm,"

The girl's eyes were cold. "You've got some time to tell him yourself. If Winterfell hasn't received a letter by a month after the tourney, I will tell my father and send a message to Lord Tywin. I've got nothing against you, but I love my sister and want to see her happy,"

"Please," Was all Giana could say.

Her expression was unrelenting. In an uncharacteristic fit of rudeness, Giana turned on her heel and stormed off, tears running down her face, wanting to scream.

*

Ross doubted that Giana Lannister would tell Lord Tywin herself. It would come down to her, telling her own father. Part of her felt for the girl, but as she had said, Lyanna came first. She wasn't so naive as to think that her sister would avoid marriage forever, but if it gave her a couple more years at home, or allowed her to have a Northern husband, it would be worth it.

Not that Lya wasn't making the most of her relative freedom now.

"You've got to be joking," Ross walked in on a laughing Benjen dressing Lyanna in a motley collection of battered armour, a chipped lance resting on the floor of the tent. "Please tell me you're just playing dress-up,"

"Remember those awful squires from yesterday, Ross, who were picking on poor Howland Reed?" Lyanna grinned brightly. "I'm going to enter and knock them into the ground, to teach them some manners,"

"But you've never jousted before!"

"Yes I have. I practiced with Brandon,"

"As a game, Lya, it wasn't real,"

"Jousting is mostly about how you sit a horse, anyway," Benjen piped up, looking thrilled by the whole thing as he tightened the straps on her mismatched armour. "And obviously Lya is good at that,"

"It'll be fine, Ross," Lyanna did not seem at all concerned. "It's not like I'm going up against Arthur Dayne, or Barristan Selmy,"

With that, she picked up her shield, which had a laughing weirwood tree painted on it, lowered her visor, and set off out of the tent. At least she did not look like a woman; just a badly equipped, diminuative knight.

To Ross' astonishment, Lyanna did not do badly, nor suffered a serious injury. She not only managed to beat all three of the awful squires she had set out to humiliate, but she had also caused quite the stir as a mystery knight. At first it was amusing, hearing everyone speculate about the identity of the man, but as the Mad King's suspicions grew, and he sent guards out searching for the mystery knight, it fast became dangerous.

"We've got to hide all that armour," Ross said as she and Lyanna hurried back to the tent. "And the shield. Lya, you bloody fool,"

"I didn't realise the King would care so much," Lyanna protested, though looked scared underneath her bravado. "Why on earth would a traitor disguise themselves as a mystery knight and enter a tourney, anyway?"

"He's called the Mad King for a reason," They reached the tent and began piling all of the equipment Lyanna had used into sacks. The lance would have to remain under the pile of Brandon's spares. "Oh, this is ridiculous. Where on earth are we going to get rid of all this?"

"We could dump it in Harrenhal's armoury," Lyanna suggested. "It's so huge, no one would notice,"

"Surely that's where the guards are looking right now?"

"True," Her sister grimaced. "How about the Godswood? Its huge, and the trees will stop anyone seeing. By the time they find it, the tourney will be over, and who would ever think it was us?"

That seemed like a good idea, and that evening Ross helped Lyanna move all of the sacks into the Godswood, neither of them attracting much attention. They had worn their plainest travel dresses, and in the dim light, no one looked twice. Having hidden everything in a dense thicket, they sent off back to their tent, only to see that they had forgotten the shield, with the telltale laughing tree painted on it.

"Shit," Lyanna groaned. "I'll take it. You stay here,"

As this was entirely her fault to begin with, Ross did not object. Her sister was gone a long time, however, long enough that she started to worry if she had been caught. Just as soon as she was planning on going out looking for her, she came into their tent.

"What took you so long? No one saw, did they?"

"I couldn't find a good hiding place," She said, unconcerned. Ross didn't quite believe her, but didn't push the matter.

*

The tourney went by quickly, and soon it was the last day. Ross and her family were in the stands watching the final tilt of the jousting, between Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, and Ser Barristan Selmy, Knight of the Kingsguard. Whilst Barristan the Bold was a folk hero at this point, the Prince had distinguished himself against countless strong contenders in this competition, her brother Brandon included. Sure enough, after a heated match with multiple tilts, Rhaegar was victorious.

On his silver destrier - a handsome beast, that caught Ross' attention far more than its rider - the Prince collected the crown of love and beauty from their host Lord Whent, carrying it on the end of his lance down the stands. In the royal box, his wife, Princess Elia, got to her feet with a warm smile, ready to receive the crown of winter roses. Something was wrong, though. Rhaegar was slowing his horse, but was not looking at his wife.

Ross realised what was happening a second before a collective gasp ran through the crowd. The Crown Prince had ridden past the Princess, who stood there for a moment, shocked and hurt, before smoothing out her expression. It was like something out of a nightmare as Rhaegar reigned in his horse in front of where the Starks sat, offering the crown to Lyanna.

Elia Martell sat back down with quiet dignity and painful finality. Brandon, in contrast, was on his feet, opening his mouth in outrage, but Ned and Ross either side of him yanked him back down. It would be a death sentence to go against the Prince here. Tales of the Mad King had reached even Winterfell.

"Not here, Brandon, sit down. Not here, not now, we'll fix it later, just wait, not now," Ned was murmuring under his breath, calming their brother in a way only he could, though the look in his own eyes was mutinous.

The blue crown still remained on the end of the lance. The crowd was shouting, many of the nobles too, and Ross saw King Aerys rise from his throne several seats away, turning his vile purple eyes their way. In that moment, there was not a hint of sanity in his stare, only suspicion and paranoia.

"My lady," Rhaegar said to Lyanna.

Her sister's mouth was slightly open, horrified, looking for the first time ever like she wanted to melt into the floor. But the crown wasn't going away, and she couldn't refuse a prince of the blood, not like this. No matter what she did here, she couldn't win. Lyanna took the crown of winter roses with steady hands, laying it on her lap with uncharacteristic care, like it was doused in wildfire. It might as well have been.

The commons was still in uproar, the lords and ladies all muttering intently, all eyes were on them. As Rhaegar turned his mount around, having stared at Lyanna for several long seconds, Ross reached out and grasped her sister's cold hand with her own. Lya was motionless otherwise, but squeezed back.

"We're leaving," Brandon growled, getting to his feet now the Prince had gone, ignoring the stares all around them. "Now. Up,"

He tugged Benjen to his feet, Ned swiftly rising himself with a warning hand on their brother's arm. Brandon made to grab for Lyanna, but Ross linked arms with her sister as they stood, glaring at him. Robert Baratheon rose to leave with them, but a few quiet words from Ned and he sat back down; he didn't look as angry as Ross would've expected, or perhaps he didn't particularly care after his tryst with the silly little Lannister girl the other night.

The five Starks left the stands, ignoring the mutterings and catcalls all around them. Brandon walked in front, his furious expression daring anyone to stop them, Benjen hurrying beside him to keep up with his long strides. Ross and Ned had Lyanna between them, who for once was keeping her eyes on the ground. It was unpleasant, seeing her wild sister so cowed. In that moment, looking back at the prince - dismounting casually, as though he was above the madness he had just started - Ross would happily have run him through. Had he any idea what he had done, or was he as big a fool as Giana Lannister?

She felt Mad Aerys' eyes following them the whole way, and fought the urge to shudder.

*

"He can't do that," It was Benjen that spoke, but Ross barely heard it over the ringing in her ears.

"He can," Ned ground out, eyes dark. "He's the King,"

It had been dire news when Ned and Brandon had been called before Aerys after the jousts that day. The king was seeing traitors everywhere, particularly after the mystery knight, and his son singling out Lyanna over his own wife had moved suspicion onto them. He wanted assurance that the North wasn't a threat. He wanted a hostage, a Stark hostage, and not the girl his son had shamed in front of all the Seven Kingdoms, so as not to set tongues wagging.

"Fuck the king," Brandon spat, pacing up and down the tent. "He - "

"Stop it," Ross stopped him with a glare. "Don't be stupid, I have to go,"

"We can't just send you off there alone, Ross," Her brother exploded. "Aerys is mad! You've heard the stories from King's Landing, he sees traitors everywhere and burns people alive on a whim,"

"I'm a Stark," She replied, her calm exterior hiding the growing rage and panic she felt inside. "He can't lay a finger on me, or he will have a rebellion on his hands, and not just from the North. There's countless Tyrells at court, his son's married to a Martell, he's got a new Lannister Kingsguard, and now me. If he harms me, all those houses will feel their own kin threatened, they won't stand for it,"

That might be true, but didn't make any of them any happier. There was a heavy silence.

"You can't go, Ross," Benjen's expression was pleading. He was only eleven. "You just... can't,"

"She has to," Lyanna's eyes flashed in anger, but her tone lacked it's usual bite after the raging argument between her and Brandon after they returned from the tilts. Brandon had asked if she'd slept with Rhaegar, to which she had been understandably furious. Her sister was sat on the camp bed now, having been glaring at the crown of now-limp winter roses that still lay on the table.

"It can't be Brandon, he's the heir. It can't be Ned without provoking the Arryns too. It can't be Benjen because he's only a third son. It can't be me because of that fool Rhaegar who started all this in the first place," She spat the name sourly. "And if none of us go, then we might as well fall on our swords now, because there's no chance of Aerys letting us leave otherwise,"

No one could argue with that.

That night Ross dreamed of Winterfell. Father was sat in the Lord's chair. Brandon was sparring in the yard. Ned was by the pool under the heart tree. Lyanna was galloping over the moorland. Her mother was alive, reading a book beneath the huge arched window of the library. Even Grandmother Arya, who had been gone seven years now, was there, waist-length grey hair just as Ross remembered. She was home, and safe, but something was wrong. Blood started to trickle from the eyes of each of her family, then the nose, the ears, the mouth. They were all drowning in blood amidst smoke, screams and dying men. All her loved ones, dead, gone, the sounds of war echoing through the land.

She awoke with a small gasp, heart pounding, nightdress drenched in sweat. The first thing that caught her eye in the dim gloom of the tent was the crown of winter roses that still rested beside Lyanna's bed. The darkness played tricks with her eyes, so it almost looked as though the crown was covered in the same blood as her dream, lying in a pool of it, dripping down the table and onto the floor.

Ross got to her feet and without hesitation threw the cursed thing into the embers of the dying fire. Watching the roses blacken and shrivel didn't bring her much satisfaction. Only a nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach that much worse was coming.

"Ross?" Lya murmured, waking up at the smell, still drowsy. "You burned the roses,"

"Did you want to keep them?"

She gave a small scoff. "Of course not. The fire is the best place for them,"

A pause.

"I have to tell you something," Ross said.

"That sounds ominous," Her sister sat up in bed.

Ross told her of her blackmailing Giana Lannister.

"Do with that what you will," Ross shrugged. "I won't be able to do anything about it, in King's Landing. I just wanted you to have a way out, if you chose to - "

She broke off as Lyanna flung herself at her, wrapping her in a tight hug. Her sister was a lot shorter than Ross was, her head resting on her shoulder. Ross' arms closed around her.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Ross," Lyanna sniffed into her shoulder. "He can't keep you forever. I'm so sorry, it's all my fault they're taking you away,"

"It is absolutely not your fault," Ross stepped back.

"No, but it is," Her sister looked uneasy, which put her on guard. "When I was trying to hide all the armour and the shield after the Knight of the Laughing Tree - you know, when all the guards were looking and it was getting scary - Rhaegar caught me. I was quite rude to him, at first, but he just laughed. He directed the guards away and helped me hide it all. He was kind, and we talked a little, and that was all that happened, I swear, I just - I didn't think he wanted anything in return,"

Ross was silent for a moment.

"The Prince chose to do what he did," She said. "No one made him do it. It wasn't your fault he found you, and it wasn't your fault he decided to be a great stupid fool. And you don't owe him anything. It is not your fault,"

"I suppose," Lyanna said, not seeming convinced.

*

The next morning, Ross said her goodbyes to her family.

"If they mistreat you in any way," Brandon said. "No matter how small, write to us, and I will come and get you, Ross, never mind the King. The moment we get back to Winterfell and Father hears of this idiocy, he will not stand for it. You will be home soon, little sister,"

"You shouldn't have to go at all," Benjen had not gotten over the injustice of it all, hugging her tight enough to break a rib. "I told Brandon and Ned that I'd go instead of you, but they wouldn't let me,"

"For good reason," Ned smiled faintly. "Ross can be trusted to behave in court - you certainly can't," He turned to her. "Be brave, Ross. Just keep your head down," It was good, practical advice, rather than Brandon's hotheaded promise to come for her if anyone even looked at her funny.

"You'll be back racing me in the Wolfswood before you know it," Lyanna said with a grin, none of that vulnerability from the night before present, though her eyes were a little glassy. "And losing, because you're so out of practice,"

Ross embraced her sister as the boys laughed.

"Goodbye Lya," She murmured, hating the feeling of finality.

She rode out of Harrenhal the wrong way. South instead of north, accompanied by a dozen Targaryen guards, with only two Northmen there in the grey cloaks of House Stark. The temptation to turn her horse around and gallop back up the Kingsroad was overwhelming. She could do it, her horse was fast enough, she could easily find her way home. The grim grey walls of Winterfell loomed in her mind, the dark sentinel pines and ancient oaks of the Wolfswood, the wild moors, the cold wind on her face, the solemn face of the heart tree, red leaves reflecting in the hot springs. Home. She didn't know when she'd see Winterfell or her family again.

Their party moved fast, and they soon caught up with another rider heading to the capital, the newest Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister. He was younger than he'd seemed, now she saw him up close. Though he was over six feet tall, his clear green eyes, so much like his sister's, showed he was most likely her own age.

Ross disliked him the moment he introduced himself to her, smiling a false, dazzling smile that had no doubt charmed many a woman before. He no doubt expected to amuse himself by making the strange-looking Northern girl flustered or flattered at the attention. Instead, she had raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the southron foppery.

"Aren't you riding the wrong way, Lady Stark?" He rode up beside her with an expression that suggested he found himself hilarious.

"By the gods, you're right," She said in mock-realisation, tone dripping with sarcasm. "I hadn't noticed. Thank you, Ser, for kindly pointing out my mistake. I'd best turn back North,"

Whatever he was expecting from her, it wasn't that. Yet instead of becoming irritated or offended that she had turned his mockery back on him - as most did, when Ross said what she was thinking - Jaime Lannister grinned a way that was far more genuine than the smile he'd worn before.

"I didn't expect such a sense of humour from a Stark. Or any sense of humour at all," He continued before she could reply to that. "In all honesty, what brings you to King's Landing, alone?"

"You haven't heard?"

He shook his head. "Do enlighten me,"

"Rhaegar won the joust. He gave the crown to my sister, not Princess Elia. The King was furious and demanded a Stark in court, to ensure no plotting is afoot. So here I am,"

A pause.

"I feel as though you could have told that in a more engaging way. It's quite the story, but you said it as though you were reading a grain report,"

Absurdly, Ross found herself biting back a smile. "Forgive me. Next time I'll bring a minstrel to sing it to you, if that is preferable?"

"Infinitely preferable," He said, then paused. "What did your sister do with her lovely crown?"

"Nothing," Ross said. "I threw it in the fire,"

Jaime laughed, somewhat bitterly. "Quite right," That irritating smile returned. "Of course, if I hadn't been sent to King's Landing, then I would have won the joust and none of this fiasco would have happened,"

"Is that right?"

He was unbothered by her doubt. Of course he was, aged fifteen and the youngest member of the Kingsguard in history, son of the richest family in Westeros, blessed with good-looks and skill at arms. He did not even bother to correct her impression of him, so secure was he in himself.

Throughout the ride to King's Landing, Jaime Lannister laughed and joked with the guards with an easy charm he seemed to have been born with, though Ross noticed that when no one was looking, that dazzling smile of his dropped altogether. The guards offered only so much conversation, and every day, once he was bored of their battle stories (which, admittedly, he had listened to attentively) and talk of women (he offered little of such talk himself, leading many of the men to tease him for having a sweetheart somewhere instead of the seemingly expected line of whores) he slowed his horse to ride at the back of the column with Ross and her guards.

"Why the long face, Lady Stark?"

"Are you asking about my mood, or likening me to a horse?"

He just grinned. "What on earth do you mean? I would never dream of insulting a lady,"

"You know exactly what you said," She was less annoyed by the words, more that he had thought to sneak them past her for his own amusement. "I could say the same to you. The closer we get to King's Landing, the more miserable you get when you think no one's looking. Didn't you give up Casterly Rock to be in the Kingsguard?"

"I never wanted Casterly Rock," He sounded as though he had already said those words a hundred times over. "Giving it up was freeing myself from that particular chore,"

If Ross was offered Winterfell, and the North to rule, she would take it in a heartbeat. Jaime Lannister had that opportunity handed to him on a silver platter since birth, yet had thrown it away. The idea was so foreign to her that she couldn't look at the young man with anything but a level of fascination.

"Stop looking at me like that," He interrupted her thoughts, with more amusement than annoyance.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm mad,"

"I don't think you're mad," Ross shrugged. "If you want to give up Casterly Rock for a chance to stand outside the King's door for the rest of your life, that's your business,"

"I know you didn't mean that as an insult, but I feel as though I should be offended regardless,"

Ross couldn't help but laugh, and at that, he smiled as though he had won.

*

Edited as of August 2024. The main changes here are improving the dialogue between Jaime and Ross, as well as splitting that monster first chapter in half. Do let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoyed!!