Chapter Text
The sun had barely risen when an excited Sansa burst into her bedchamber and jumped onto her bed. Lyarra groaned at her sister’s, still half asleep. She sat up and levelled her sister with a glare.
“What are you doing, Sansa?” She asked, her tone thoroughly unimpressed.
Sansa beamed at her. “I’m sorry. I just had to talk to you.”
“And you had to do this at sunrise?”
“It just couldn’t wait.”
Lyarra raised an eyebrow. “And what’s so important that you had to jump on top of me like a madwoman?”
Sansa clapped her hands together excitedly. “I saw you talking to Loras Tyrell. I think he likes you!”
Lyarra sighed. “That’s what was so important? I know that Loras likes me. We get along well.”
Sansa rolled her eyes. “No, I meant that he likes you like a husband likes his wife.”
Lyarra looked at her sister in disbelief. “You think he’s in love with me?”
Sansa pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, no, you’ve only just met, but I think he could love you. He obviously likes you.”
Lyarra rolled her eyes. “We’re just friends, Sansa.”
“What if he wants to be more than friends?”
“Why are you so concerned about this anyway? I thought you were too busy trying to impress your beloved Joffrey.”
Sansa’s eyes lit up at the mention of her betrothed’s name. “I’m still trying to impress, Joffrey. I want to be the perfect queen for him, but I still want to help you.”
“Help me with what?”
“With impressing Ser Loras, of course.” Sansa said in a tone that implied she thought Lyarra was stupid for even asking.
“I don’t want to impress Ser Loras.”
Sansa frowned. “Why not? He’s so handsome and chivalrous. He’d be the perfect husband.”
“I’m going to marry someone from the north. There’s no point in trying to impress Ser Loras.”
Sansa’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Why would you want to marry someone from the north when you could have a chivalrous knight like Ser Loras?”
“It’s not my choice who I marry. It’s Father’s.”
Sansa’s eyes lit up again. “Then we’ll just have to convince Father to betroth you to Ser Loras.”
“Why do you want me to marry Ser Loras anyway?”
“He’s so handsome and kind. He’d be the perfect husband for you. And if you marry him, then you can stay here and live at court with me.”
“I might have to live at Highgarden if I marry Ser Loras.” Lyarra pointed out gently.
“He’s the youngest son. He has two older brothers. He can live at court full time. You must marry him. I need you here with me when I marry Joffrey.”
Lyarra frowned in concern. “You don’t think you’ll be happy here on your own?”
“I will. I just want you to stay with me. We can raise our children together. I’ll have little lions and you’ll have little roses.”
“Little stags.” Lyarra corrected. “You’ll have little stags. Joffrey is a Baratheon.”
Sansa shrugged. “He takes after the Lannisters and our children will take after him.”
Lyarra smiled. “I bet they’ll be beautiful.”
Sansa grinned back. “Yours will be beautiful too. They’ll have beautiful curls just like you and Loras.”
“Father might not agree to let me marry him.”
“I’m sure he’ll let you marry whoever you wish. He’ll agree to let you marry Loras.”
Lyarra didn’t have the heart to tell her little sister that she didn’t want to marry Loras at all so she just nodded and smiled.
Septa Mordane must have noticed that Sansa was out of bed because she entered Lyarra’s room with a disapproving frown.
“What are you doing in here at this hour?” Septa Mordane asked Sansa, that disapproving frown still on her face.
“I wanted to see my sister.” Sansa said softly.
“At this hour?”
“I needed to speak with her.”
“What was so important that you had to get up before sunrise?” Septa Mordane asked primly.
“It was a private matter.”
Septa Mordane’s frown deepened. “I see. Well, you better get dressed. Your father will want to have breakfast with you. Leave your sister in peace to get ready.”
Sansa frowned. “I’ve not finished speaking with my sister yet.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to talk to your sister. Now get dressed before you freeze.”
Sansa grumbled but got up and walked out the room without complaint, although she did level a subtle glare at the septa.
Septa Mordane gave her a nod before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her.
Lyarra sighed before falling back onto the pillows. She hadn’t expected Sansa to barge into her room so early in the morning, all excited and talking a mile a minute. It had taken all her energy to not snap at her sister and tell her to get out. She didn’t want to talk about marrying Loras Tyrell when the sun hadn’t even been up for an hour. Sansa thought of marriage like it was in the songs. She didn’t realise yet that not all marriages were happy. Mother and Father were a rare exception where an arranged marriage turned into love. Most became friends or managed to get along but they didn’t fall in love. Occasionally they despised each other like the king and queen or Aegon IV and Naerys Targaryen.
Sure, she liked Loras Tyrell but she didn’t know if their marriage would be a happy one. How could she? They barely knew each other. She was not like Sansa, who was convinced that her and Joffrey were already in love with each other, despite not knowing each other well. She would like a marriage like Mother and Father’s, but she knew it wasn’t a guarantee. Nothing in life ever is.
Sighing gently, she pushed the covers off her body and got out of bed. It had been so hot in King’s Landing that she didn’t feel the chill she usually did when she first got out of bed in only her thin nightgown. Today was no different. The top of her nightgown was already sticking to her chest and the sleeves were uncomfortably clinging to her arms.
After cooling herself down in a bath, she went to her wardrobe and picked out a dress.
She chose a grey silk dress with pearl embroidery at the neckline. It was light enough for her to wear in this heat but still fancy enough to wear at court.
Arya came bounding into her room as she was braiding her hair, clad in a brown jerkin and brown roughspun pants. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement.
“Lyarra, guess what?”
Lyarra sighed. “What?”
Arya grinned at her. “Syrio says I’m going to catch cats today.”
“What’s so exciting about that?”
Arya frowned at her lack of excitement. “It’s the next step in my training.”
“Are you sure you want to catch cats? They have sharp claws.”
“I’ll be fine. Syrio says that every hurt is a lesson and every lesson makes you better.”
“As long as you’ll be safe.”
“I will be.”
“Does Father know about this?”
Arya nodded. “He does.”
Lyarra raised an eyebrow. “And he’s alright with it?”
“He is.”
“Well, have fun then.”
“It’s not supposed to be fun. It’s training.”
“Well, good luck then.”
“Thank you.”
Arya scurried out of her room without a another word and Lyarra wondered what Septa Mordane would say when she saw what Arya was wearing.
After tying the end of her braid, she stepped out of her room and walked to the solar where her family would no doubt be.
As predicted, Father, Sansa and Arya were already at the table when she arrived. Septa Mordane was there too.
“It’s an inappropriate outfit for a lady to be wearing, Arya.” Septa Mordane was saying. “I pray to the gods that no one sees you looking like this.”
Arya scowled at her. “I have to wear this. You can’t catch cats in a floor length court dress.”
Septa Mordane’s frown deepened. “What kind of activity is this? Surely this is not teaching you how to use a sword, though I still think that’s inappropriate for a lady of your station.”
“Syrio says that this is how he trained and I trust him. He’s the best at what he does.”
“He’s the only water dancer you know.” Sansa pointed out. “How do you know he’s the best?”
Arya glared at her. “I just do.”
Father frowned. “Arya, don’t take that tone with your sister.”
“But she’s making fun of me.” Arya whined.
“That’s no excuse to be rude.” Father turned his gaze to Sansa. “Try to be more understanding of your sister, Sansa.”
Sansa looked down at her plate. “Yes, Father.”
“Are you sure you want to catch cats, Arya?” Lyarra asked as she took her seat at the table.
“I already told you that I did.”
“Arya, don’t snap at your sister like that.” Septa Mordane scolded.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, Arya. It just seems like a strange choice.”
“Syrio says that catching cats will help me see clearly.” Arya explained.
Lyarra frowned in confusion. “See what clearly?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Lyarra could see that Father was not happy with the idea of Arya running around, trying to catch cats, but he kept his thoughts to himself, likely because he didn’t want to upset Arya.
Sansa sighed. “Can we stop talking about cats?”
Arya scowled. “Well, what do you want to talk about? Joffrey?”
Sansa ignored Arya’s mocking tone. “No, I have something important to talk about.”
Father looked at Sansa curiously. “What is it, sweet one?”
“Lyarra was talking to Loras Tyrell last night.”
Arya frowned. “Who’s Loras Tyrell?”
“He’s a knight who participated in the tourney. He’s the youngest son of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden.” Lyarra said.
“What’s so interesting about Lyarra talking to him?” Arya asked.
Sansa rolled her eyes at Arya’s obliviousness. “He’d be a good husband for Lyarra.”
Arya rolled her eyes. “Lyarra doesn’t want to get married to someone from the south.”
Septa Mordane’s eyes glittered with approval. “I think that Loras Tyrell is a fine match for Lyarra.”
“It would be so romantic if you did marry him.” Sansa gushed.
Father ignored everyone else and focused on Lyarra. “Do you want to marry Loras Tyrell, little wolf?”
Lyarra felt uncomfortable under everyone’s gazes. “I, I don’t know. I’ve only just met him. I don’t know him well enough.”
“I can’t say that it’s not a good match because that would be a lie.” Father said. “Your mother would certainly approve of it but I will do nothing until you tell me that this is what you want.”
Lyarra looked at him gratefully. “Thank you, Father.”
Sansa frowned. “But you said you liked him. How can you not want to marry him?”
Father sighed. “Leave your sister be, Sansa. Deciding to marry someone is not a decision that’s made lightly. Your sister is well within her rights to take some time to think on it.”
“I think you should do it. You’d be stupid not to.”
Arya scowled at Sansa. “Don’t call her stupid! She’s much smarter than you are.”
“Arya, enough with the insults.” Septa Mordane said sharply. “And leave your sister alone, Sansa. Your father has given his permission for her to think about the betrothal and you will respect his decision.”
Sansa nodded, her cheeks heating in embarrassment.
“It’s alright, Sansa.” Lyarra soothed. “I know you want this to happen because you want me to stay at court with you.”
Father looked surprised. “Is this true, Sansa?”
Sansa nodded shyly. “I don’t want Lyarra to go back to Winterfell when I marry Joffrey. I want her to stay with me.”
Father sighed again. “I hope that doesn’t affect your decision, Lyarra. I don’t want to feel you have to say yes just to please Sansa. There are other ways for you to stay here without having to marry.”
“I know, Father. I won’t let anyone affect my decision making.”
Father nodded before going back to his meal.
“How do you even know that Loras Tyrell would want to marry Lyarra?” Arya asked.
“Because he likes her.” Sansa said, a pleased expression on her face.
Arya rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know what they were talking about.”
Sansa seemed to realise this was true because she turned to Lyarra, eyes bright with curiosity. “What did you talk about with him?”
“He told me about Highgarden and his family.”
Sansa squealed in delight, startling Arya and Septa Mordane. “That means he wants to marry you.”
Father frowned. “Where did you get that idea?”
“If he cares enough to tell her about his home and his family, then he must want to marry her.”
“It could be the case.” Septa Mordane said. “If he’s telling her about his home, then he might be trying to convince her she’d like it there. Of course, none of this matters if Lyarra turns down the proposal.”
Arya scoffed. “He hasn’t even asked Father to marry her.”
“That’s true but I won’t ask him anything unless Lyarra tells me she wants to marry him.” Father said.
“I’d want to marry him if I was in her place.” Sansa said dreamily. “I’ve never seen someone so beautiful and he fights like a true knight.”
“We’ll talk about it no more until Lyarra makes her decision.”
It was silent after that and soon everyone went their separate ways. Arya went off to catch cats, Father went to see the king and Lyarra went off to her room, leaving Sansa and Septa Mordane in the solar.
Lyarra was halfway through reading the “History of the Rhonyish Wars” when Sansa burst into her room, her blue skirts flying behind her.
Lyarra closed the book with a sigh. “Mother and Septa Mordane would be horrified if they knew that you barged your way in here without knocking.”
“I needed to talk to you.”
Lyarra looked at her younger sister wearily. “I think you’ve talked enough already.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to marry Loras Tyrell?”
“I never said I didn’t want to marry him. I said that I needed some time to think about it.”
Sansa flopped down onto her bed, for once not caring that her dress was getting ruffled. “What is there to think about? Loras is perfect.”
“No one is perfect, Sansa.”
“Joffrey is.”
Lyarra sighed. “No, he isn’t. It’s impossible for someone to be perfect.”
“What about Florian and Jonquil? No one ever says anything bad about them.”
“I’m sure they had some flaws. I don’t think the gods make perfect people, otherwise we’d have no reason to pray to them.”
“I think Loras is like Florian. They’re both perfect knights. You could be his Jonquil. It would be so romantic.” Sansa gushed.
Lyarra frowned. Sansa had obviously not taken in anything she said and was still dreaming of the legendary knights from the songs. She didn’t know what she could say to convince her sister that Joffrey was nothing like the knights from the songs. He was a monster just like his mother. But she knew it was pointless to try right now so she steered clear of mentioning Joffrey.
“Do you really think that marrying Loras is a good idea?”
Sansa frowned in confusion. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I always planned to stay in Winterfell with Robb.”
“And who were you planning on marrying?”
“Someone from the north.”
“Really? You want to marry someone from the north when you could have a beautiful knight from the south, who’s just like everything the songs said knights would be?”
“I didn’t really care who I would marry, as long as I got to stay with Robb.”
Sansa wrinkled her nose in disgust. “And who were you going to marry? Wendel Manderly? He’s older than Father!”
“Well, no, I wasn’t. Lord Jon Umber has many sons and at least one of them must be close to my age.”
“Loras is his father’s third son. He has no responsibilities as his heir. He’s not tied to Highgarden the way his oldest brother is. You could live here at court or go back to Winterfell with him. And even if he refused to live in Winterfell permanently, he would surely understand that you must be with Robb at least for part of the year, so he would allow visits.”
“You don’t know him, Sansa. He might refuse to let me leave Highgarden.”
“You really think he would do that? You said he was nice.”
“But I don’t know him well enough to take that at risk. I need to have the option to go back to Winterfell.”
“Why don’t you tell Father that? Tell him that you won’t marry Loras unless he allows you to at least visit Winterfell.”
“That’s a good idea actually.”
Sansa’s eyes lit up. “So you want to marry him?”
Lyarra shrugged. “I suppose marrying Loras wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
“Is the thought of leaving Robb behind permanently the only thing stopping you from saying yes?”
Lyarra sighed. “I don’t know.”
“I wish Mother was here. She’s better at talking to you than I am.”
Lyarra smiled. “I think you’re better than you think you are.”
Sansa’s face lit up. “So I helped?”
Lyarra ran a loving hand through Sansa’s hair. “You’ve given me a lot to think about and I can definitely see why you want me to marry Loras.”
“So you’ll marry him?”
“I didn’t say that. I still need to think about it.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to think then.”
Sansa skipped happily out of the room, no doubt thinking that Lyarra would agree to marry Loras.
In truth, Lyarra was torn over the decision. Marrying Loras wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, she supposed. From the few times they had talked, they seemed to get on well so even if they didn’t fall in love, they could still be friends, which is what most women hoped for when faced with an arranged marriage. Well, the reasonable ones, anyway. Sansa was among those who wanted to marry only for love. She couldn’t imagine not being in love with her husband and him returning those feelings.
Unfortunately, most arranged marriages didn’t turn into love matches. She sincerely hoped that she wouldn’t be the one to have to tell Sansa this. She might realise it on her own a few years into her marriage to Joffrey. He surely wouldn’t play the part of the kind and handsome prince forever.
Thinking about Joffrey made her realise just how lucky she was. Sansa got the raw deal there, not that she realised it yet. She could tell that Loras’ kindness to her wasn’t an act like it was with Joffrey. He would treat her right and she would love to see Highgarden with its fields of golden roses.
Perhaps she should marry Loras.
She sighed when her door swung open again, expecting it to be Sansa asking if she had made up her mind about Loras yet.
To her surprise, it was Arya, looking like she had fallen into a bush. She had scratches all over her arms and chest and her knees were bleeding.
“What is it, Arya?”
“Sansa’s squealing about how you’re going to marry Ser Loras. Is it true?”
“I haven’t said yes yet.”
“Don’t say yes, Lyarra.” Arya begged. “I need you here.”
“Why do you need me here?”
“You can’t leave me here with Sansa. All she talks about is Joffrey and I hate him.”
“I won’t be gone forever. I’ll come back to visit you.”
“You can’t marry him, Lya. You just can’t!”
Lyarra frowned at the distress on Arya’s face. “Why not?”
“Because I’ve already lost Jon. I can’t lose you too. Sansa doesn’t understand me the way you and Jon do.”
“You haven’t lost Jon, Arya.” Lyarra said gently. “He’ll come to visit us with Uncle Benjen.”
“Uncle Benjen hardly came to see us at all. Now Jon will do the same and you’re leaving me now. I want us all to be together again.”
“Maybe someday we will.”
“Don’t leave, Lyarra. We all need you here.”
“I have to marry one day, Arya, and Highgarden isn’t far from King’s Landing. It will be very easy for me to visit you.”
“You promise you won’t forget me?”
Lyarra ruffled Arya’s hair, just like Jon used to. “I’ll never forget you. You’ll always be in my heart.”
“I still don’t want you to marry him.”
“Why not?”
“Because you deserve better.”
“Loras Tyrell is a celebrated knight and he’s very chivalrous.”
“You still deserve better.”
“Alright, who do I deserve then?”
“A king.”
Lyarra wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I don’t want to marry Joffrey.”
“No, that’s Sansa’s burden to bear but you do deserve a king. I can see you as a queen. You’d be loved by everyone and they’d call you the smallfolk’s queen because you’d be so kind to them.”
Lyarra smiled. “That’s nice of you to say.”
“Marry Loras if it will make you happy but I’ll be giving him a warning.”
“What kind of warning?”
“I’ll threaten to stab him with Needle if he hurts you.”
Lyarra chuckled, trying to imagine her sister stabbing Loras, who had once defeated the Kingslayer in a joust. It was an amusing thought but she didn’t dare tell Arya that.
“I’m sure he’ll heed your warning.”
“If you marry Loras, they might call you the Lady of Flowers.”
Arya scurried out of the room after that, leaving Lyarra to her thoughts.
She knew she wouldn’t be able to finish her book until she made a decision about Loras. But she didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t planned on getting married or even betrothed right now.
Ser Loras Tyrell was certainly a worthy husband but Lyarra didn’t know if she would be a worthy wife.