Chapter Text
Raya Stark spurred her horse forward on the King's road. She heard her oldest brother call for her not to get too far from the party that was making its way towards the tourney to be held in Riverrun. She told her brother to not take heed though she knew that his words were actually that of her father's. Her father had kept her securely in Winterfell or its proximity for all these years, only recently giving her some leave and a thread of freedom. She certainly had never ventured past the borders of the North.
The King's road was wide and flat and she felt more and more excited as she ventured further, leaving the host of Lord Stark's eldest son behind her. She knew better though. She'd never been this far south. She'd never attended an actual tourney and she would make sure that she got there safe and sound, with her brother's host. However, she was not about to deny herself the freedom of a good gallop along the straight, even road. The mare was not really hers, but ser Oswell's. The red destrier was calm when she needed her to be but ran fast and swift when encouraged. She loved the mare already. Ser Oswell had lent her to Raya when her father had bid her to travel with her two brothers to attend tourneys this spring. And she was glad about it, for all she had known in her almost twenty years of living was the vast wilderness of the North and occasional visits to some of her lord father's bannermens' castles. She had complained about it many times but only now her father had finally bent upon her will and given her the permission to ride with her brothers.
As the sixth and youngest child of Lord Stark she felt like she had little actual value. All of her brothers and sisters had already married, yet her time had not come. In fact, her father had never seemed too keen on finding his youngest daughter a match of marriage. So Raya had filled her days with singing, dancing and fighting. Learning the ways of both the ladies and the lords of the seven kingdoms. She had been allowed to spend time with both her sisters and her brothers when she had grown up and she was skilled in elegant music of the ladies as she was with the sword and bow of little knights. Obviously she would never be as good as her brothers, nor as good as her sisters for that matter, as she had split her time in half and only brought up half heartedly, but she didn't mind. She was a good rider, though her build was rather short for a horse. She was strong for a noble lady, and she embraced that as much as her beautiful and bright singing voice, which she often used to entwine with her lady companion. Lady Lyra was a daughter of a lesser Lord and she had been Raya's companion for several years now. Lyra enjoyed doing Raya's long, brown hair and choosing her gowns, and Raya had always thought she had better taste than herself. Lady Lyra was here now with her, mostly traveling in the carriage but occasionally borrowing a horse for herself to ride with Raya.
The fresh wind of spring rustled her hair and made it tangle at the nape of her neck. She stalled her mare to wait for the host that made its way steady on the flat of the King's road. She had decided that she would enjoy the tourney, though her eldest brother had told her that he would make sure that she would present herself properly and honor their house. And yes, she would still try to be proper for she was a lady of house Stark, but was not planning on holding back from the fun either.
—
The road to the Riverrun tourney had been long and tiresome, yet when the Stark convoy reached the tourney grounds and set up the camp Raya and Lady Lyra set off, barely containing their excitement. The tourney ground was already full of life. There were stalls selling all kinds of goods, travelling smiths setting up their spots and the air was full of chatter and laughter. Raya felt more alive than she had for a while.
"Oh this is truly the most exciting adventure of my life Lyra!" She announced to her friend, who let out a soft chuckle beside her.
"You have hardly had any adventures, so I should hope so."
They wandered around, checking the banners of each house and made a game of naming the houses and their words. They laughed and jested, stopping occasionally to browse the goods in the stalls or to follow restless knights already preparing for the tourney. Raya's brother had sent one of his men to accompany them and eventually he suggested that they get back to their camp for supper. The sun was already setting by then and both of them were tired and in a desperate need for a bath.
—
The next morrow was clear with dying winter's claws still trying to hold on. It was not as cold as up North, but for the southern location it was fairly chilly. Raya broke fast with her two brothers who were already charged with anticipation and excitement. The tourney would start the following day, but they were already going on about who they would challenge if they had the chance.
Beren, the oldest of Raya's siblings, was already an experienced jouster. He had been a ward and squire for Lord Arryn of the Vale, who had also knighted him at the age of seven and ten. Now, ten years later, Beren was ever the perfect heir of Winterfell. He had inherited their father's dark brown hair and grey eyes, just as had most of the Stark children. He was serious when he had to be and commanded respect in his people, but alone with his siblings he was warm and joyful, though he could never quite stop from being the one in charge and disciplining his siblings when necessary.
Raya watched as her second eldest brother Benjen tossed a piece of bread to Beren a tad too hard for it to be friendly sharing of the said bread. Where Beren was steady and warm, Benjen was quick to both anger and laughter. He could be like a winter storm, cold and cruel, but he was also fiercely devoted to his family. Beren was three years older than Benjen, only having Raya's eldest sister Serra between the two of them.
“Stop it Ben! You’re behaving like a brat!” Beren had dodged the bread and was now seemingly angry at wildly grinning Benjen.
“Just preparing your reflexes for tomorrow, brother,” Ben shot back and Raya giggled at the two of them. Benjen had also been knighted, though Raya preferred to think of him as a jester.
Looking at the two of them, Raya felt a bang of jealousy. They had lives she would never have. First of all, she was a lady, no matter how much she sometimes liked to pretend otherwise. And second of all, her brothers’ paths had been laid out before them from the beginning. Beren was to follow in their father’s footsteps and Benjen would be his shadow, his trusted and his shield. They had both married a good and proper match. No, she did not necessarily wish all of her life to be decided for her, but for a while now she had felt like she was wandering without any purpose. At least her brothers knew what was to become of their life. All she had was the stories of her books through which she had lived a life of another, struggling to find her own path.
But now she was here. In her very first tourney and if the plans held there were many more to come. One does not come all the way from the North just for one tourney. Her brothers were planning to spend several months on the road, attending other tourneys as well as reinforcing alliances, and Raya planned to behave and be there through all of it.
—
The afternoon of the last day before the tourney grew louder and louder. The blood of the men ran hot and the air was filled with anticipation. Brawls broke every once in a while and knights already tested each other out. Raya was walking through the crowd with her brothers, when something stirred the air around them. She heard distant horns blowing and saw people gathering by the road. Noble and common blood mixed together. The next blow of the horn was closer and the sound of tens and tens of hooves drummed the ground. A large host rolled on the River Road, past the tourney grounds and towards the Riverrun castle. She saw the banners first. Black, with a crimson three-headed dragon. The sigil of the house of the dragon, though she had not heard that the king was supposed to attend the tourney.
“Targaryens,” Benjen pointed out the obvious.
“I didn’t know they would attend,” Beren replied.
“I wonder if it’s the king himself,” Raya said.
“The king has never attended any tourneys outside the Crownlands that I know of,” her eldest brother said.
“I’ve only ever seen his sons, but they haven’t attended in years either. Not after the battle of the Redgrass Field.”
“I suppose we shall see tomorrow who is to attend and who’s not.”
Raya let the conversation die as the host passed them. She couldn’t really see the faces from this distance and over the crowd and lost interest quite soon. They would indeed see tomorrow who would attend. Surely whoever was here would either enroll the lists or sit at the place of honour in the stands, next to the Lord of Riverrun, to celebrate his son’s nameday.
—
The tourney started with a force. Raya and Lyra rushed to the stands at the last minute because they had been too busy to see Beren and Benjen off. The first knights were already starting the charge at their respective ends of the jousting line. They had just sat on the free seats at the edge of the stands which were set up for the noble folk when the knights clashed with the sound of wood hitting metal and the excited roar of the crowd. Raya felt a rush of excitement herself and she was quickly swallowed by the tourney, hanging at the edge of her seat.
When her brothers entered, first Benjen and later Beren, she cheered for them. Loud. No longer sitting down but bouncing and occasionally hanging on the railing of the stands. The lords and ladies around her sent odd looks her way but she didn’t care. In fact, she barely noticed. Her brothers were good. Not the best, but good. Beren was calm and collected, he didn’t put up a show but struck fair and true. Benjen was hyped up by the atmosphere, he was showing off and even rode up to her when he had won his round, asking for her blessing. She told him that she only had one blessing but two brothers, so it wouldn’t be a fair trade. Benjen just shrugged and rode off laughing.
The aftermath of the first day of the tourney was just as exciting. Raya and Lyra rushed through the crowd to her brothers and soon they were off. Lord Lyonel Baratheon had extended his invitation to Beren and Benjen to join them in his camp for supper. Raya knew that he and Beren were acquainted or perhaps even friends of sorts and Benjen was as quick to make friends as he was to make enemies.
“It is bound to turn into a party later,” Benjen was almost dragging Raya on, holding her arm in his. Nearly bouncing in excitement.
“The parties of Lord Lyonel are not a place for a lady, but you two can stay there for supper,” Beren promised behind them. He had taken Lady Lyra to escort and she was beaming. Lyra, just like Raya, had never been to tourneys and while her character was more composed, Raya and Benjen’s mood was catching up to her like a wildfire.
They navigated their way to the Baratheon camp. The camp of the stag was a lively one. Lyonel Baratheon knew how to host a supper indeed. Long tables were filled with food, wine was already flowing and the Lord himself was lounging on his seat, wearing a golden crown with antlers, chatting about with his bannermen. When they walked closer, he got up to greet them.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” he greeted, spreading his arms wide.
“Thank you for the invitation Lyonel,” Beren shook hands with him.
“If you do not mind I brought my little sister and her lady to supper with us. It would have been a shame to leave them behind.”
“Of course, of course, everyone is welcome.” Lord Lyonel said, barely looking at Raya or Lyra and waved them to one of the long tables where they took their seats. There was a band already playing and people wandering around, visiting each other's tables, chatting and laughing. At some point Raya’s brothers started doing the same. Lyra was engaged in a discussion with some older woman sitting at her left and Raya let her eyes wander.
The supper was truly a feast and inevitably leaning towards turning into a party. There were some people already dancing. It was lively and loud but the loudest of all was the laughter of Lyonel Baratheon. The Laughing Storm they called him. It was fitting. There was something in him that made Raya pause. The way he moved at ease. Laughed when he found something even slightly amusing and pestered people when it suited him. He was free. Lord of Storm's End already, by a tragedy. Maybe that was why he seemed so free and full of life. He didn’t need to wait for the burden of lordship anymore, not like her brother had to. He already had it and it seemed like he intended to do whatever he wished with it. And she found herself admiring him for it.
She was awfully aware that by the time the sun had set and night was settling in, Beren would eventually remember his words and tell someone to wipe her and Lyra off to the safety and quiet of their own camp. So she decided to make the most of it. The camp was now a party ground. The music was getting louder and merrier by the minute and only one table was devoted to food anymore. The others were either emptied for dancing or filled with people chatting and having their fill of wine. Lyra was lingering on Raya’s shoulder. They had been keeping quiet for now, observing the situation. Agreeing that if they kept a low profile, they could stay longer.
“You know,” Raya eventually turned to her friend, “if we were ever to enjoy this party, we should do something.”
“That would draw Lord Beren’s attention,” Lyra’s brown doe eyes found hers.
“But like this I don’t think we’re actually able to enjoy it.”
“What do you suggest we do then?” Lyra asked. A wicked grin spread to Raya’s face as she led her friend forwards:
“We dance.”
And so they did.
—
At the center of it all Raya was dancing like she never had before. The northerners knew how to party for sure, but it was different and she had never quite been able to let go. Not when her father was always there, expecting her to behave. But he was not here now. Instead, there was the Storm Lord who drew people to him like the sun. His energy radiating and intoxicating everyone near him. He spinned people about and his dancing was wild. He sang and occasionally disappeared for a drink, only to return and give the dancers a new boost.
Raya closed her eyes and let the music flow through her. She lifted her hands up. Swayed and turned. Jumped and kicked. She reckoned it wasn’t pretty, but she didn’t care. Someone grabbed her hand and spun her around. She laughed. Then Lyra was there. Her eyes beaming. She grabbed her friend from the waist and spun her. Then they spun together, almost tripped and stopped to laugh, still holding on to one another.
“Okay that’s quite enough now,” Beren’s voice cut through the noise, close to Raya’s ear. She quickly spun away from her brother. Abandoning her friend with him.
“Just a little longer! Pretty please,” dragging out the last syllable as she jumped out now, avoiding her brother’s grasp. She bumped into someone, almost losing her balance and felt strong hands at her waist, steadying her.
“Well well well. The little lady wolf is it?” Lord Lyonel looked down at her. His crown slightly tilted, sweat glimmering on his brow and a wicked grin showing his teeth. Oh he was marvelous.
“You’ll have to make her acquaintance later, Lyonel. It’s past her bed time,” Beren stepped in, grabbing her arm.
“Please Beren, just this one dance,” Raya squirmed, backing up to the man behind her. Who had not, in fact, let go of her.
“Seems like your sister knows how to party,” Lyonel chimed and Beren threw him a look.
“Father left her in my care, so my apologies, but it’s her time to go.”
“Shame,” Lyonel let go of her and took half a step back, “I suppose you’ll have to make your own party, my lady.”
He was reading her brother well. Beren was composed, not a hint of the wine he had drunk remained in that moment, though she knew he hadn't been exactly holding back on that. And from the look he gave her, she knew that there was nothing she could do to sway his decision. Lyra had stopped dancing and it took only a look and sharp nod of his head for her to follow.
It would seem that Beren decided to make sure that they got back to the camp himself. He didn’t let go of Raya’s arm, but the grip lightened when they got further away.
“What were you thinking Raya, dancing there like no one is looking?” Beren asked. His voice had a sharp edge which startled her.
“Why, I was just doing what everyone else did!”
“No Raya. You need to behave. You can’t just go dancing about like a mad woman.”
“I wasn’t!”
“You were. I saw you.”
They had almost reached their camp now. Beren’s face was set. Raya knew that arguing wouldn’t sway his opinion in any direction. He had decided what he saw and judged her already. She knew she hadn’t danced like a proper lady, but she didn’t see anything wrong in that. Everyone else had danced like crazy too, but if Beren wished to hold that against her, so be it.
They reached the camp. Beren barked them commands to bathe and get to bed. Lyra wasn’t looking at him, just nodding and muttering her apologies. She was never one to stand well the rebuke from any of her family members. They both bathed and changed into night gowns. Raya and Lyra had agreed to share a tent, at least at this tourney and in silence they crawled under the furs on their beds. At the moment Raya was glad that Lyra was there to share the night with her. She started at the ceiling in silence, thinking about the party. The way she had felt free while dancing without restraints. Then she snorted. It was most definitely not a lady-like sound. There was a pause and then Lyra chuckled. It was shortly followed by their joined laughter.