Book 1: Prints in the Snow

Chapter XXI • Secrets in the Garden

Lyon felt the telltale coolness in the air when she awoke, her eyes needed not to open to be aware of his presence. "Good morning, Raphael."

"Sleep well, dear niece?" His weight settled into the foot of her bed.

"Like the dead." She mumbled, finally opening her eyes and pushing herself up and onto her elbows. She caught sight of a wrapped package held in his arms and her brow furrowed. "What's that?"

"A gift from your family. As poetic as it is to fuck in Septs and kill your lover while looking like a true lady, perhaps a disguise is warranted for further endeavors." He held the package out to her, and with a wary look, she received it and took away the wrapping. Within was a sleek set of black girded leather armor. They were well made. Sturdy. Fashionable, even.

"Do you not approve of my methods?" She lightly touched the fabric of the black shirt, not meeting Raphael's eyes.

"They are... curious. Many women employ their sex as a means to get a job done. It is your decision to use your body as you like. So long as the job gets done. I commend you, however. Not even I knew of Alaya's, uh... interests."

"It was a guess. I told my mother to spread the word that Alaya had company waiting for her at the Sept. If she came, I was right. If she didn't, I was wrong."

"Smart to use the Sept, but perhaps dangerous. Do you not fear your afterlife?"

"I think I fear life more. Look what happened to Alaya. She was alive. Once." Raphael chuckled heartily, but Lyon's face was blank as she set the package aside. "Which of my family have you chosen to deem safe now?"

"Your sister Sansa will fall under our watchful gaze now." Raphael rose. "And I will see you again when your next task reaches my ears."

He vanished out the window. All that was left was the breeze, and a sick feeling in her belly. She rose, the sick feeling rose to her shoulders and became a weight, and although she left her room as a Lady, she felt like a monster inside. Lyon's mind wandered to the sleek armor. It was no Knight's piece and would never bring her honor, but when had honor been at the forefront of her mind? Perhaps once it was but Kingslanding changed people, changed the very blood that ran through their veins. She wouldn't have shared a bed with anyone other than Theon had she not left Winterfell.

Gods, did she miss both he and Jory. The two men to warm her bed and show her any semblance of romantic love. Perhaps Jory more than Theon, yet the Greyjoy knew how to be gentle at times. Was it that dark fury that burned in her belly, the one that hated her for her own dysfunction that she could not bare babes and the loss of the two men she came to care for - or was it a deep-seated hatred for the man that had taken her lover away from her?

She was too tired to feel anger or loss.

Lyon's feet had taken her to her father's doors without her knowledge, and had subconsciously lifted her hand to knock, then stopped herself. Her forehead settled upon the door and she closed her eyes.

"My Lady, are you well?"

"I'm just... I'm fine, thank you." She told her escort. "I'm going to take a stroll through the gardens. Alone, if you don't mind. I'm becoming claustrophobic."

Her two escorts exchanged a look with each other before acquiescing, and lead her to the gardens. The remained at the foot of the stairs as she strode along the cobblestone path, feeling the sun's warm glow upon her sleeveless arms. If there was one good thing about Kingslanding and the South, it was the sun. The humid climate was welcoming. Unfortunate that the people did not reflect that aspect.

She was beginning to calm when voices muffled by distance caused her to pause.

"I know the truth Jon Arryn died for."