The middle-aged Duke Rickard Stark had been feeling anxious these past few days, and a good many strands of hair had fallen out as a result. It wasn't just because Robert Baratheon, who had come from the Stormlands to propose to his daughter, had lost control of his Ironspike War Hammer during the families' jousting competition and had been struck in the head, falling into a coma for three days and nights. Nor was it because Lyanna had declared she would never accept the marriage – and after that, his son Ned remained silent, and his eldest son Brandon hesitantly asked if it was the will of the gods. He had sworn before the joust that if Robert fell, his sister would not marry him.
The will of the gods? The Duke Stark's gray eyes held a deep thoughtfulness. The source of his anxiety was the Ironspike War Hammer that lay on his table, now split into two parts: the handle and the head.
How could a well-used weapon suddenly break? Knights' armor and weapons were maintained by specialists, and after Robert left Storm's End, passing through King's Landing, the one responsible for this was his page, Prince Viserys. It was said that he had even polished it until it shone the night before the competition.
The Duke examined the two parts again carefully. The hammer handle was inlaid with gold, and the stag antlers made it difficult to slip. The iron hammer head was heavy and sharp, but at the point where they joined, there were signs of corrosion. The Duke knew that armor and weapons would be damaged if not properly maintained.
Was it an accident?
The key was that the hammer handle and head were very heavy, and the young prince couldn't have taken it outside to have someone tamper with it. Was it truly corrosion and damage over a long period? Robert was careless, and the young prince wasn't really capable of doing things...
Duke Stark found a reasonable explanation for himself, but he still felt uneasy. He considered picking up his pen to write to Steffon Baratheon, telling him that Robert was injured and needed to recuperate...
"My Lord Duke!" A servant hurried in, followed by Brandon, whose expression was rather strange.
Rickard Stark stood up, anxiously asking, "Robert?"
"No, Robert is still asleep. The healers say he's doing better, his heartbeat is normal, and they expect him to wake up soon," Brandon replied. "It's just—"
"What is it?"
"A large group of women has arrived at Winterfell's gates. They all claim to be Robert's lovers. Some are even carrying children, holding babies, saying they're Robert's offspring. They heard he was injured and rushed here to see him." Brandon said through gritted teeth. "Father, the small town near Winterfell is already in an uproar because of this. People are saying Robert will be a Stark son-in-law, and they're begging us to let the women in to see him and give them some money for living expenses."
The Duke of Stark sat back down in his chair, his gray eyes fixed on the Ironspike War Hammer that had been split in two.
Rebecca was a new girl in the business, recently arrived near Winterfell. A couple of days ago, she heard about a big deal! One Gold Dragon per person! Gold Dragons! And she didn't even have to sleep with some fat, rough man. All she had to do was pretend to be a woman who had a fleeting relationship with a man and was then forgotten and abandoned! If she brought a prop baby or a small child, it was two Gold Dragons!! Good heavens, with that, she could buy a small house!
Rebecca immediately grabbed her child and went to the small town she had visited before. When she arrived at the tavern, she found that it had changed hands. The new owner was the previous waitress. Inside and outside the small tavern, around the counter and tables, there were already quite a few girls gathered. It seemed that many people wanted to earn this money. Hah, including her acquaintances! Jenny from the wilderness village, Rose from White Harbor. They exchanged a flirtatious glance and quickly followed the tavern owner's instructions, who was also the organizer of this mission. Everyone knew their roles.
It was another sunny day, and the residents of the small town near Winterfell were met with a strange sight as soon as they opened their doors. A group of young women, with various hair colors, some even with children, had gathered in front of the tavern. They...
Some of them were crying loudly, handkerchiefs pressed to their faces as they sobbed, calling out, "Robert! Robert! How could you be so cruel as to abandon me?"
One red-haired woman, clearly furious, stomped her foot, hands on her hips, and cursed at Winterfell's castle, shouting, "Robert, you liar! You bastard! You called me darling when we were together, and now you're here in Winterfell, trying to court the Duke's daughter? Robert Baratheon, don't hide behind the castle gates! Come out here!"
More and more onlookers gathered, and the attention-grabbing women began to march towards Winterfell's main gate. Some carried infants in their arms, while others dragged young boys of four or five years old, repeatedly declaring that these were Robert's children and that they were currently living in poverty, begging their noble father for money.
The crowd followed the women towards the large northern castle, eager to see how this would play out. Since Winterfell's guards wouldn't let them in, the women, with their children, began shouting at the top of their lungs just outside the gate.
Among them, Rebecca took a different approach. She cleared her throat and began to sing a tune, "The Wild Roses by the Roadside," towards the towering stone walls. The song was mournful, tender, and beautiful.
When the young Brandon Stark came out to assess the situation, Rebecca dropped to her knees in the snow, cradling her child, and crawled towards Brandon!
"My Lord! My Lord!!" She removed her cloak, revealing a heartbroken face, her dark eyes filled with fragility and sorrow. "My Lord! I know I am of low status, just a wild flower by the roadside, battered by wind and rain, and I wouldn't dare to have any foolish hopes towards the honorable Lord Robert, but my child... my child is innocent! Please, have mercy, and let Robert take her back? She will only suffer with me. My Lord, kind-hearted Lord, I don't desire any mistress's riches and glory, I only wish to be an ordinary kitchen maid, just to see my child from afar! Please, my Lord!"
Sixteen-year-old Brandon looked at the haggard but strong woman, who was also beautiful. He was thin. He took off his fur cloak and draped it over the frail mother and daughter, stammering a little, "Robert is injured—"
Rebecca let out a low cry and fainted. Brandon was quick to support her—he smelled a faint fragrance, different from the precious spices used on Catelyn's gowns, but gentle and sorrowful, like a feather—how pitiful, mother and daughter, he felt pity.
Viserys, who was watching nearby, decided to pay Rebecca three Gold Dragons.
The other girls, upon hearing that Robert was injured and unconscious, cried out, "Oh, my love!" Some begged to see him one last time, while others demanded money. The scene quickly descended into chaos.
The commotion soon brought the rest of the Stark family to the door. After learning the details, Lyanna's face turned icy, and she turned away. "Don't anyone mention Robert Baratheon to me again."
In the end, the Stark Duke had to step in and give each girl some money, telling them that Robert needed his rest. Only then did the crowd slowly begin to disperse.
Rickard Stark took a deep breath and gestured towards Prince Viserys, who had been watching the spectacle at the door. "Your Highness, may I speak with you?"
At this point, he was certain that Robert had been targeted, and for a very clear purpose.
Viserys readily agreed, but he was still smiling as he looked at the castle gates. The Duke turned his head and saw that his eldest son, Brandon, was still talking to a woman holding a child. He immediately ordered Brandon to come to his study as well.
###
Viserys had a faint smile on his face. The Duke noticed that there wasn't a trace of nervousness in his purple eyes. The young prince was wearing a purple, wide-sleeved mink robe, the color favored by the Targaryen family. His silver hair was even brighter than the snow outside the window. Given time, when he matured, he would become another handsome idol of the Seven Kingdoms.
"You..." The Duke carefully chose his words, not wanting to offend him.
Viserys walked closer from the window, looking up directly at Stark. "Hello, Duke. I know your doubts. Yes, I was the one who brought them here, so you could see firsthand what Storm's End will be like in the future. There will be countless illegitimate children both inside and outside the castle."
Brandon jumped up, wanting to ask a question. The old Duke stopped him again, "Listen, Brandon! As the heir to the North, listen carefully today!"
Viserys savored these words. The Duke Stark, he subtly sensed his deeper purpose, which would have a significant impact on his descendants, at least on Brandon's generation—
Speaking plainly. Viserys simply laid his cards on the table. He said lightly, "Duke, my intention is to prevent Lyanna from being betrothed to a Baratheon. She will not be betrothed to any of the lords or heirs of the Seven Kingdoms."
Rickard Stark's eyes flickered. "And with whom...?"
"With my brother, Rhaegar Targaryen. The best choice, wouldn't you say?"
Brandon's mouth dropped open in surprise. Rickard Stark maintained his composure. "Your Grace, you jest. How could my daughter possibly marry into King's Landing?"
"Why not? You don't truly believe what the King says, regarding the Crown Prince marrying his sister, will come to pass, do you? My father—" Viserys tapped his head, "—he doesn't consider practicality. Even if my mother, Rhaella, could give birth to a princess now, my brother is already twenty. How could they wait until then? The King will understand within a few years at most that the eldest son must produce an heir as soon as possible."
It did sound that way. The Duke remained impassive, probing further, "Why Lyanna?"
The young prince puffed out his chest. "Because of me! The moment I saw Lyanna, I knew she was perfect for my brother. A fiery, slightly adorable girl with a strong sense of justice! That's exactly the type my brother likes! The only problem is that she's still too young. We'll have to wait until she's sixteen or seventeen, then introduce her to my brother. I guarantee it will be love at first sight."
The Duke was not privy to the Crown Prince's preferences in women, but it was universally acknowledged throughout the Seven Kingdoms that he utterly doted on his younger brother.
"If my brother is willing, and with my support, this marriage is as good as done. Even if the King objects, hehe, I'll just say I want to be a Kingsguard and not marry. Then, my father will have to pin his hopes on my brother. In that case, Duke, what do you think the King could do if they were to secretly marry first? Could he possibly strip my brother of his inheritance? Impossible. Your daughter is of high enough birth; she would be the Crown Prince's wife, the future Queen."
Brandon looked at his father nervously.
The Duke Stark pondered, not answering.
Viserys shrugged. "I know you think I'm young and my words can't be trusted. How about this, Duke? Don't arrange a betrothal for Lyanna before she turns seventeen. After she turns seventeen, I'll introduce her to my brother. If my brother is uninterested, then you can consider other matches for Lyanna. In Westeros, it's not too late for a girl to marry after she turns seventeen."
The temptation to become queen and have the future heir to the Seven Kingdoms carry the blood of the direwolf of the North was too great. The scales in the Duke Stark's heart tilted. He told himself that he would just try this path. If it didn't work, Lyanna could still be betrothed to someone else. If not Robert, there was the eldest son of Riverrun, the eldest son of Casterly Rock, the Prince of Dorne...
The little prince glanced at the duke's expression and continued, "Although I want to become a Kingsguard, if my brother doesn't want to marry Lyanna—a hypothetical that barely exists, practically non-existent, okay? I'll be the guarantor, I'll marry her. The Prince and Princess of Summerhall isn't bad, is it?"
Right, not bad. Duke Stark thought. The Targaryen royal family was very likely to have no princesses to match the two princes, and they would have to marry outside their family. My Lyanna, why couldn't she marry into the royal family?
Everyone in the room pondering the future didn't notice that twelve-year-old Benjen was outside the door, straining to eavesdrop—He happened to hear the last half of what Viserys said. So, Benjen ran off, rushing to his sister and telling her in a hurry, "Father doesn't seem to plan for you to be betrothed to Robert Baratheon."
Lyanna, who was combing her long hair, was overjoyed when she heard this. "Really? As long as there's no betrothal, I can go see him when he wakes up and tell him clearly that I won't marry him."
"But, Father seems to have found someone else for you, Prince Viserys! I just heard. He said he could vouch for you, to marry you and become a princess."
"Ha, Viserys is interested in being a Kingsguard. You must have misunderstood." Lyanna thought for a moment. "But he's cute. If I have to get married in the future… it wouldn't be so bad. Haha."
"You actually like him!" Benjen exclaimed. "You rode that little red horse with him yesterday! I knew it!"
"That's not it! Don't be ridiculous! He's just different from the other boys! He thinks there should be female knights! And he doesn't think it's a big deal if women don't get married!"
And in the study, Brandon saw his father pick up his goblet and take a large gulp.
Viserys' voice was pleasant, "Alright, now let's talk about how to raise Lyanna in these few years. You can let her learn horse riding, swordsmanship, and so on, not just because Lyanna herself likes it, but because my brother also wants a lover who can ride alongside him."
Thanks to the little angels who voted for me with a King Ticket or irrigated nutrient solution between 2020-07-07 16:57:41~2020-07-08 16:27:55!
Thanks to the little angel who threw a grenade: Century Egg and Lean Meat Porridge x1;
Thanks to the little angel who irrigated the nutrient solution: Sweet Cookies x10;
Thank you all very much for your support, I will continue to work hard!
("If you hadn't commented, I wouldn't have uploaded this chapter. I'm uploading it only because you asked."_