Book 1: Prints in the Snow

Chapter V • The King and Queen

"Do you see them, Bran? Tell me what you see!"

"I see the king! He has hundreds of men with him!"

With anxiety pricking the back of her neck Lyon rubbed her palms together, grinning. "Isn't this exciting? The King and Queen will finally be here. In Winterfell!" As though catching to her excitement, Winter gave a sharp bark. Lyon bent to scratch his ears.

"Brandon!" Catelyn Stark's voice howled from several feet away, her heavy footfalls trudging toward them. Lyon kept her eyes down even as Bran descended the stone tower, coming to jump the last remaining feet to land in the dirt.

"I saw the king. He's got hundreds of people!"

Their mother ignored his excitement and pointed a stern glower at him. She had yet to look at Lyon. "How many times must I tell you: No climbing."

"But he's coming right now! Down our road!"

"I want you to promise me. No more climbing."

Bran faltered as the excitement fell from his face, but still, his fingers twitched in anticipation. "I promise..." He said, looking to the dirt as he did.

"Do you know what?" She asked.

"What?"

"You always look at your feet before you lie. Now, go run and find your father. Tell him the King is close."

Like an obedient pup, Bran was off. His dire wolf followed him in a flash of white fur, and then there was just the two standing at the base of the old tower. For the first time in a long time, Lyon lifted her eyes to Catelyn's, and in hers, she saw a look of deep disapproval.

"You shouldn't be encouraging him." She said.

"He's a boy. He'll outgrow it. And besides, it'll make him stronger; tougher."

Her lips tightened as though she still didn't quite approve, but eventually, she released a sigh. "We haven't spoken since that morning. Your father and I want to speak to you too. We would tell you what you want to know."

"Not while the King and Queen are visiting. We wouldn't want them catching word of this situation."

"No," she seemed relieved. "We wouldn't. Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Cat. I'm looking after my own arse." Lyon strode past her with little more acknowledgement to be paid to her, and she knew that wasn't fair. Yet every time she saw her or father, or even thought of them, she couldn't help the feeling of betrayal that soured her. Lyon was no Stark.

Lyon plastered a smile onto her face, hoping no one could see past it. She made her way toward the keep where already most of her family had assembled, save for Arya and Catelyn. However, the ladder came quickly to stand at Edward Stark's side, and Lyon stood opposite of him as the eldest.

"Where's Arya?" Her mother peered around the area, then her eyes fell on Sansa. "Sansa, where's your sister?"

Bannered riders began to spill into Winterfell on great horses. A massive man in a helmet fashioned in the head of a hound rode in upon an even larger horse. Beside him came a blond boy in a royal garment, looking only a little older than Sansa. A bustle came from amid a group of people, and Arya came dashing to us, a soldier helmet upon her head. A grin split Lyon's face as she strode up, and their father took the metal from her head.

"Hey, hey, hey. What're you doing with that on?" He passed the helm aside, though Lyon noticed he was grinning at the young girl in amusement. She shuffled her way in between Bran and Sansa, muttering at him to move before she straightened and peered eagerly at the coming of the King's ensemble.