293 AC – The Red Keep – Robert's Chambers
The first pale light of dawn slipped through the high windows of Robert's chambers.
Maester Pycelle entered quietly, a scroll in his gnarled hands. Robert was staring into the fire with a half-empty flagon beside him.
Pycelle bowed.
"Your Grace a letter from Winterfell."
Robert took the scroll without looking up. He broke the grey direwolf seal and started reading then let out a booming laugh that filled the chamber.
"Ned agreed to ward Lyonel!"
Jon Arryn, seated near the hearth, looked up calmly.
"Then as we planned, Your Grace the prince will be sent to Winterfell next moon."
Robert's face broke into a wide, proud grin. "Aye! Right after his tenth nameday."
Jon nodded.
"I'll make all the preparations, Your Grace. But… where is Prince Lyonel right now?"
Robert's gaze grew fond.
"Training, as always. Jaime and Barristan have been pushing him harder lately."
Jon inclined his head. "I've heard the two white cloaks train together now until they're both on the ground, out of breath."
Robert's eyes gleamed.
"Aye, and they're drilling the rest of the Kingsguard harder, too.
He relaxed back into his chair.
"Well, that might be a bloody good thing."
Jon smiled faintly.
"I agree, Robert."
They spoke for a while longer then bent over parchment together. They wrote the final letter to Ned confirming that Lyonel would depart next moon, after his tenth nameday, with a small retinue.
When it was done, Robert sealed it himself.
"Send it, Pycelle."
The maester bowed and withdrew.
Robert looked at Jon, a rare softness in his expression. "He asked for this, Jon. My boy wants to go north. To ward for Ned."
Jon's voice was gentle. "He's chosen well."
Robert drained his flagon, a little of the old fire in his eyes. "Let's make sure he has everything he needs for the journey."
Later That Morning – The Training Yard
Lyonel was already in the yard when the sun rose fully.
Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan circled him like wolves.
Jaime struck first quick, elegant, sword flashing in tight arcs. Lyonel parried, pivoted and countered. Barristan pressed next steady, relentless, each move forcing Lyonel back step by step.
They pushed him to his utmost limits.
When they finally called a halt, Lyonel was barely able to breathe chest heaving, sweat stinging his eyes, legs trembling.
Jaime sheathed his blade and clapped him on the shoulder.
"You held out fairly well today, my prince."
Barristan nodded approvingly.
"Better than yesterday, your guard is higher."
Lyonel managed a tired, grateful smile. "Thank you, Sers."
He stepped back, watching as Jaime and Barristan turned to face each other.
The two white cloaks clashed steel ringing, movements a blur. Jaime's speed against Barristan's experience. Lyonel watched every move, every shift in balance, burning the lessons into his memory.
Winterfell – Lord Stark's Solar
Maester Luwin entered with another scroll from King's Landing.
Ned looked up from his ledgers.
"Another raven?"
Luwin nodded. "From the king, my lord."
Ned took the letter, broke the seal, and read in silence. Catelyn stood near the hearth, watching.
"So he'll come next moon," he said. "Right after his tenth nameday. He seems eager to come here."
Catelyn's lips thinned. "We must prepare, Ned. To welcome him properly."
Then she hesitated, glancing at her husband. "My lord… about Jon…"
Ned's head snapped up.
"What about him?"
Catelyn's voice was careful, but there was steel beneath. "I don't think it's wise to have a bastard near the prince."
Ned stared at her without saying a word then he sighed and replied. "He's my blood Catelyn He will be here whether you like it or not. You will not try anything to change that. Do you understand?"
Catelyn gritted her teeth, but nodded.
"Yes, my lord husband."
She left the room without another word.
Ned stared at the door for a long moment.
Then let out a long sigh before going back to his duties.
Back in King's Landing – Lyonel's Chambers – 294 AC
Lyonel was ten namedays old now.
The day had come.
Two of his guards waited in the courtyard: Ser Arys Oakheart and Sandor Clegane who wore a scowling face as usual.
Two more men stood nearby ordinary royal guards in plain armor. They had approached Lyonel yesterday in a quiet corridor.
"A man is ready," one had said softly.
Faceless Men disguised perfectly.
Lyonel had only nodded.
Now he stood in the courtyard, saying goodbye.
Robert gripped his shoulders hard.
"You've got everything?"
Lyonel nodded.
Robert pulled him into a rough hug.
"Be safe. Be strong."
Lyonel hugged him back.
"I will, Father."
Cersei was next.
She embraced him fiercely.
"Write to me," she whispered.
"I will, Mother."
Joffrey clung to his leg.
"Come back soon, big brother."
Lyonel ruffled his hair.
"I will."
Myrcella now reached up with chubby arms. Lyonel lifted her, kissed her cheek.
Tommen was held by a nursemaid. Lyonel kissed his forehead too.
At last, he turned to his guards. "Ready?"
Arys smiled. "Always, my prince."
Sandor grunted. "Let's get this over with."
Lyonel mounted his horse.
Lyonel mounted his horse, pausing to take in the Red Keep, his family, the city he'd called home. He set his face to the north.
Winterfell waited.
294 AC – Winterfell – The Main Gate
One Month Later
The gates of Winterfell opened under a grey sky.
Lyonel rode at the head of his small party Arys and Sandor Clegane to his left and right, the two Faceless Men disguised as ordinary royal guards riding quietly behind.
Lord Eddard Stark waited in the courtyard with his family lined beside him. Catelyn stood at his right, Robb and Jon to his left, the younger children arranged in careful order. The air smelled of pine smoke and cold stone.
Lyonel dismounted smoothly and bowed his head.
"Lord Stark. Thank you for accepting me as your ward."
Ned stepped forward, face calm and steady.
"Your Grace," he said. "Winterfell welcomes you."
His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of the North.
Lyonel smiled and then looked at the family one by one.
"Lady Stark," he said, bowing slightly. "It is an honor to meet you. I hope I will not be too much trouble in your home."
Catelyn's smile was polite, but her eyes were cool and watchful.
"You are most welcome, Prince Lyonel."
Next Robb.
The heir to Winterfell stepped forward, red hair bright against the grey day, already grinning wide.
"Prince Lyonel," Robb said, offering his hand. "Robb Stark. Father says you're good with a sword. I hope you'll spar with me sometime."
Lyonel took the hand, grip firm.
"I'd like that, Robb."
Robb laughed
"We'll see who's better, then."
Sansa came next curtsying perfectly, auburn hair neatly braided, blue eyes wide with excitement.
"Your Grace," she said, voice soft and practiced. "I am Sansa Stark. I hope you find Winterfell… pleasant."
Lyonel bowed to her.
"Thank you, Lady Sansa. I'm sure I will. Your home is beautiful."
Sansa flushed pink, pleased.
Arya was next hair wild, dress already smudged with dirt, staring openly.
"You're the prince," she said bluntly.
Lyonel laughed "That I am my lady and you must be Arya Stark correct?"
Arya grinned "Yes that's me!"
Lyonel smiled
"It's a pleasure to meet you Lady Arya" then he leaned into her ear and whispered "If you would like to learn some sword techniques please let me know"
Arya's eyes lit up.
"Yes!"
Bran shy, clinging to Robb's leg peeked out.
Lyonel crouched to his level.
"Hello, Bran. I'm Lyonel."
Bran stared, then whispered, "Can you climb?"
Lyonel laughed softly.
"Not as well as you, I bet. But I'll try."
Jon Snow stood a little apart dark hair, grey eyes if Lyonel didn't had previous knowledge he would think he is the real heir of Lord Stark not Robb.
Lyonel walked to him and offered his hand.
"Jon Snow, isn't it?"
Jon took the hand cautiously.
"Aye, Your Grace."
Lyonel met his eyes evenly.
"So tell me Jon who's better with a sword between you and Robb" Lyonel said with a smirk
Jon stared at him for a moment then chuckled and replied "That will be me your grace"
Robb immedietly shouted "That's not true! You won the last duels because i let my guard down!"
The three of them laughed at that.
Then Lyonel spotted Theon Greyjoy looking tall and standing near Robb with a forced smirk that faded as he eyed Red Rain.
Theon's smirk faltered into something closer to fury.
Lyonel caught the look and returned it with a sharp smile, then turned away, giving Theon no more thought
He returned to speak with Lord Eddard and his family ignoring Theon completely.
Inside his head, a single thought:
This should be fun. I wonder when he'll make his move
Ned and Lyonel at the front, the family and guards following.
The gates of Winterfell closed behind them.