A Tale of Ice and Fire

Disclaimer: All rights belong to George R.R. Martin

06. The Knight of the Laughing Tree

When Lyanna was a young girl, no older than eight, she was climbing a tall tree in the godswood. Benjen, a year her junior, was desperately trying to catch up to his sister, but failing horribly. None of the Stark brothers had quite the nimbleness of the only female Stark sibling.

Benjen, winded and struggling called out to his sister and pleaded to her to slow her pace. Lyanna knew that she should, but she was intoxicated by the adrenaline that rushed through her body the higher she climbed and the more distant her brother's shouts sounded. Everything was a blur of colors and sounds. The wind rushed through her long hair and blew at her body, but it was no match for Lyanna. She was queen up here, able to overpower even the winds themselves.

But then there was screaming. It was so shrill and filled with terror that it tore Lyanna from her thoughts and immediately stole the adrenaline from her veins. She looked down from her spot very, very high in the tree in time to see Benjen hit the ground.

All these years later, Lyanna couldn't remember what had happened next, not exactly. She knew she must have scaled down the tree, but she could not remember doing it. Though she did remember her terrified and racing thoughts as she wondered how high he had been when he had fallen. And she vaguely remembered helping Benjen limp to the maester. All of this was a blur to Lyanna. But the memories of the time after she left her brother with the maester were still vivid to the girl.

Lyanna had sat in her room all night, pacing the floor and biting her nails to the nubs as she waited for her father to find her and punish her for being so irresponsible. Or worse, that she would be told Benjen would be hurt for the rest of his life, or what if he died!? And those racing thoughts had her heart pounding. She skipped dinner that evening; she wasn't even hungry. She was so anxious that she didn't fall asleep until pure exhaustion overcame her in the early hours of the next morning.

The same stomach-churning anxiety ate away at Lyanna this particular morning. It was the reason the eggs in front of her remained untouched and cooling. However, it was not the reason she was exhausted. That was due to the long night of preparations she had just endured.

Luckily for Lyanna, her company had been too intoxicated last night to remember her leaving the feast hall. They also had not checked to see if she returned to her chambers that night, as she hadn't until the wee hours of the morning. This did not ease her anxiety much this morning, as she now worried whether her preparations had been enough. But they had to be, as she couldn't spare any extra time now. Not with her family near her.

As she looked to her family now, eating their fill, joking and talking among themselves about the day's activities, Lyanna felt the sourness of doubt creep into her. Maybe this was a terrible idea. Just a silly, rebellious and rather selfish act. If anyone discovered the truth, it would not only bring shame to herself, but to the Stark name.

Then the guilt kicked in. Last night she had been so sure of her decision to release herself from the shackles of society. She still could not deny how it made her feel: free, at ease, unafraid. But now the nagging thoughts of repercussions had returned, most likely due to her current sobriety. She was not nearly as sure that she wanted to face these repercussions here in the light of the new day. Or more importantly, that she wanted her family to face them.

Lyanna's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. As they raged inside of her, she could feel her stomach churning and clenching and she thought she might be sick. She had to leave this room. It was too suffocating. She needed air.

Lyanna pushed out her chair, quickly getting to her feet. Ned, who had been sitting beside her, turned his head at his sister's actions, but she paid no mind. She was already rushing from the table, headed for the nearest exit. When she found it, she hurried outside.

The cool morning air hit Lyanna's face and she immediately felt her stomach relax. It did not quite ease her thoughts, but she accepted the small reprieve it did give and nearly gulped in the fresh air. She let herself listen to the sounds of the squires and bannermen who were busy with their own preparations, further out in the grounds. She wanted to stay in that moment as long as possible, to let the sounds and smells of simpleness calm her, but it was not to be. For just then, a visitor appeared at her elbow.

"Lyanna, may I have a word?"

Lyanna turned her head to see it was her father who had joined her. He was looking hard at her face but his silver-eyes were guarded and Lyanna could not decipher was he was thinking. She nodded.

Rickard Stark gently took his daughter by the elbow and led her down the stone steps that led to the keep and into the yards stretched before it. Lyanna thought they might be headed to their tent, but Lord Rickard stopped before the mass of tents and below a large tree. There was no one around but the sounds of working men still reached Lyanna's ears.

"Is everything alright, father?" Lyanna asked.

"I wanted to speak with you about last evening."

Lyanna felt her stomach drop. How could he know about her activities the night before? Had someone seen her? She thought she had been careful. Although, she had still been under the effects of alcohol late into the night. Perhaps she had been clumsy and drawn attention to herself?

When his daughter did not reply, Lord Rickard continued. "It has been brought to my attention that you were drinking heavily last night."

Lyanna's mind stopped racing. For a brief moment, she was confused. "Father?"

"A young woman of your status should not be consuming alcohol in such a fashion. You are a lady and are to conduct yourself as such. You are lucky you did not make a fool of yourself."

Lyanna's mouth dropped slightly, her eyes on her father. He was not yelling, but his tone was non-negotiable and his face seemed made of stone. He was chastising her and thoroughly disappointed in her behavior. Her behavior being, she drank enough alcohol last night to be considered drunk. Despite the fact that she had not caused a scene, she was being scolded for inviting such a possibility by drinking too heavily.

A wave of disappointment crashed into Lyanna. Her father had always been understanding of who she was, to an extent. She was never allowed to carry a sword, or even use a sword, but Rickard Stark had always been lenient of letting Lyanna watch her brothers train or letting her muddy a dress when she took a rather wild ride around Winterfell. But that Rickard Stark was gone now. In front of her was a man no different than any other, who expected Lyanna to behave in the appropriate fashion which left no room for extra activities.

It was such a sudden shift. What had happened? Was it due to the other nobles they dined with at this tourney? Was he afraid his daughter might embarrass him in front of other lords by acting in any manner that might be considered unladylike? Was these strict rules to be followed here, or would it be this way when she returned home? Would she spend the rest of her days at Winterfell sewing and sitting politely in a chair so she would be prim and proper before being married off?

Just like that, those damnable tears began to sting at Lyanna's eyes. She had never been one to shed tears, but the last few days she felt like that had been all she'd been doing. Here, in the very throes of her society, Lyanna had been reminded time and time again of her cruel reality. Perhaps she'd been denying it for too long. Maybe she'd taken for granted the leniency she'd been granted her whole life?

But Lyanna did not let her sadness show. Instead, she bowed her head in an attempt to appear chastened. "You're right, Father. I am sorry..."

Lord Rickard remained silent for so long, Lyanna lifted her head to look at her father. His face was no longer stern and unyeilding. Instead, he was frowning and his eyes thoughtful. Gently, he took his daughter's hand in his. "My daughter, you are a young woman now who shall soon be wed. It is time you do all that is expected of you. Ser Robert needs a proper highborn wife. You must put your willfulness and stubbornness aside and be so."

Lyanna said nothing. She couldn't, lest the lump in her throat betray her. She only nodded.

Lord Rickard sighed deeply and leaned forward, planting of a soft kiss on his only daughter's forehead. Brushing back a stray strand of brown hair, he pulled back, turned on his heel, and made his way back to the feast hall.

Lyanna remained for a long moment after. Her gaze was steady on the grass-covered ground, her mind, for the first time in what seemed like ages, was still. Just an hour ago, she had been filled with doubt and uncertainty. Now, none remained. With a newfound determination, Lyanna lifted her head, grabbed her skirts, and hurried across the yard.

Rhaegar Targaryan wished he was sitting anywhere else in the stands. He would sit next to any other person willingly. No one would know that however by looking at his face. As per usual, it was perfectly composed. It had to be, after all. His father was already suspicious of him as it was.

King Aerys Targaryan II was a very paranoid man. He was convinced everyone was on a mission to dethrone him and take the crown. In this case, however, he was correct. Rhaegar himself had bartered for this tourney in an attempt to unite the major houses of Westeros against his father.

It was not for selfish reasons. In fact, Rhaegar wasn't exactly over the moon with joy over the prospect of ruling the country. But the king was quickly descending into madness, as was clear for even those not close to him to see. If he stayed in power for much longer, terrible things were going to happen. Rhaegar knew he had to do something about his father.

What Rhaegar did not know was how his father discovered his plan. King Aerys II never left his presumed safety of King's Landing. He was too paranoid that traveling anywhere outside of the Red Keep would surely invite an assassination attempt. So Rhaegar had felt confident in his plan to host this tourney for his political plans.

Someone must have betrayed Rhaegar's trust. Or perhaps there was a particularly clever rat feeding information to the king. Either way, it had disturbed the king enough to make him leave his sanctuary and travel to the tourney. It had caused quite the upset in Rhaegar's plan, as well as causing him more than a few headaches.

With his plan mostly foiled, Rhaegar had to act like his father's belief that Rhaegar himself was planning a dethroning of his father was absolute nonsense. This meant Rhaegar had to put aside his general dislike of his father and appear that he was glad the king had come and spending time with him was a pleasure. Thus the reason he was seated beside his father on this particular morning.

But the morning had already felt like an eternity, and they were barely into the first few jousting matches. King Aerys II had been muttering incoherent words under his breath and taking suspicious glances at Rhaegar every few minutes. It was more than enough to set the prince on edge, but he could say nothing. He couldn't even frown. So he sat with a carefully composed face, his eyes set on the field below. He watched as the porcupine knight of House Blount was declared the winner and a new challenger was led onto the field. Rhaegar sat straighter in seat. Now here was something interesting.

As the future king of Westeros, coup d'etat or not, Rhaegar had been taught since an early age the history of Westeros. He learned about all the major houses. He knew their sigils, their history and every role they played in politics, from the start of their house, until now. And as an avid reader, Rhaegar had learned much and more and was blessed with an impeccable memory to store and recall all this knowledge. So when a knight entered the field, carrying a shield painted with a sigil unfamiliar to him, Rhaegar was very intrigued.

The image in question was painted beautifully on the leather shield, there was no doubt. But it was not a coat of arms Rhaegar had ever seen before. The image on the shield was that of a white weirwood tree with a laughing, red face. Rhaegar had never seen a weirwood tree quite like that, but there was no mistaking that it was one. Weirwood trees of that beauty were only found in the north. Rhaegar proceeded to take in the knight.

There was absolutely no denying that the new knight was short in stature, at least two heads shorter than his opponent. His armor was curious as well. The pieces were mismatched and appeared to have been scavenged. It must have been, Rhaegar reasoned, as none of the pieces fit well. The chest plate was sliding around with every movement of the knight, while the arm guards he wore seemed so tight that Rhaegar wondered if the knight could feel his hands.

To Rhaegar's right, his father gestured to the Kingsguard knight protecting him. He demanded of the White Cloak to answer who this mysterious knight was. Despite his descent into madness, King Aerys was still mentally aware enough to know when something was amiss. Or perhaps it was his paranoia which kept him very aware of his surroundings.

But Rhaegar very much doubted that this knight was part of a plan to assassinate his father. More likely than not the knight in question was a young squire trying to prove himself. That would certainly explain the 'knight's' small stature. The pretend-knight would probably be beaten immediately and the competition would move on.

But to Rhaegar's surprise, this was not what happened. The porcupine knight was defeated, rather easily in fact. The pitchfork knight of House Haigh faced the mysterious challenger next. He competed more fiercely than the knight before him, but he too lost to the knight of the laughing tree. By the time the third, original competitor entered the field, the knight of the two towers who served House Frey, all those in the stands were paying acute attention.

Rhaegar was just as amazed as the spectators around him. There was no doubt in his mind that this new competitor was not a knight. If they had been, there would have been no need to throw together mismatched pieces of armor. But this small squire, or whatever he was, had talent. While the pitchfork knight and the porcupine knight were no Selmy Barristan, they were trained knights and no ordinary squire could simply beat them in any competition.

When the knight of House Frey was forced off of his horse, cheers erupted from the spectators. Rhaegar found himself clapping along. In fact, it seemed that everyone aside from the three defeated houses and King Aerys were thrilled with this underdog's third victory.

Down on the field, the knight of the laughing tree was not soaking in the praise, which was odd. He had defeated three knights, and therefore also won their horses and armor, as was customary. It was quite the feat and yet the 'knight' did not even wave to the crowd. Although perhaps the winner was preoccupied by three very angry and humiliated knights approaching him.

The stands quickly fell silent as the scene played out below. It almost appeared that there would be another skirmish, and the nobles loved nothing more than drama. As the wooden stands were not built very high, Rhaegar could hear the words being exchanged on the field. It also helped that everyone had gone silent.

"Well done, sir." the porcupine knight gritted out. He and his fellow losers had removed their helmets, as it was now the rightful property of the knight of the laughing tree anyhow. But the victor kept theirs on.

"Yes, well done," agreed the knight of the two towers, his tone saying the exact opposite of his words. "But as you were not meant to compete here, you have no right to our property."

The knight of the laughing tree said nothing, which caused the three defeated knights to grow angrier. But none approached the victor. They had already lost once after all.

"I will return your possessions, on one condition," the knight of the laughing tree finally proclaimed.

Now there was a curious voice, Rhaegar thought. It was booming, almost as though the competitor was attempting to sound bigger and possibly older. Or perhaps he was making sure the spectators could also hear him through his helm. But he needn't worry, he had everyone's attention.

"Your squires are guilty of the utmost dishonor to your house name. I will return your armor, once you have taught them manners. If they ever plan to be knights their terrible behavior must change."

Rhaegar had no way of knowing if the defeated knights knew about their squires' behavior. In fact, to him it sounded as though the laughing tree knight spoke of a very specific incident of rudeness and dishonor. But the three knights didn't ask questions. In a hurry to gain back their lost possessions, they called forth their young squires and in front of entirety of nobles in Westeros and in plain view of the gods, the squires were chastised for their insolence, rudeness, and a slew of other affronts.

Rhaegar was in awe. Had this non-knight truly entered a jousting competition and defeated three knights for the sole purpose of teaching three, rude squires some manners? As the knight of the laughing tree returned his spoils of winning, it was very clear to the prince that he had.

But not everyone shared Rhaegar's feelings. Specifically, his father was not too pleased as he watched the knight of the laughing tree exit the field. He was grumbling under his breath, his eyes growing wild under bushy eyebrows.

"Rhaegar!" King Aerys growled to his son. "Go bring me that boy's head!"

"Father, have you lost your mind!?" Rhaegar hissed in return, amethyst-colored eyes narrowing to slits.

"That knight is no knight!" King Aerys insisted. "He was not here yesterday. He must have been sent when they realized I had come. He's here to kill me!"

There it was again: 'they'. King Aerys often referred to 'they', which Rhaegar had come to learn was a generalized term for the king's supposed enemies who were intent on killing him. And while Rhaegar was sure there were some out there who would be happy to see Aeryss rule end, there had been no assassination attempts to justify the paranoia. And this knight, or whatever he was, was certainly not sent to do that job now.

But Rhaegar could sense the madness taking over the king and that did not bode well for anyone. And this would be an opportunity to satisfy Rhaegar's own curiosity. "I will personally find this knight, Father. You needn't worry."

King Aerys relaxed slightly in his seat and Rhaegar nearly jumped to his feet. It was enough of a relief to be able to leave his father's side, but he was very much excited to meet this knight of the laughing tree. Whoever they were, they must be an interesting person.

Lyanna had been quick to leave the jousting field and had stolen away to the outskirts of Harrenhal's main lands. It was a heavily wooded area and Lyanna thought she might be safe from prying eyes here. She feared she may have attracted unwanted attention by showing up as a mysterious knight and defeating three actual knights. But Lyanna held no regrets.

As Lyanna began to remove her armor, she let her mind roam over the events of the morning. Just like with her fight with those three squires, she could not remember every move that she had taken. But she could remember the adrenaline pumping through her veins and the sound of splintering wood and the thunderous clomping of her horse's hooves on the ground.

And she had won! Her, highborn lady Lyanna Stark, with no formal training, had defeated three titled knights. The lance had been heavy, the shield awkward to hold, the tall men intimidating, but she had done it. And she hadn't thought about what she'd been doing while she was doing it. She had just let instincts take over as well as the memories of growing up watching her brothers learn to do the very thing she was doing.
She could not let anyone know that it was her, a woman, who had managed such a feat. Despite her performance, it would only bring her and her family dishonor. But that was perfectly fine with Lyanna. She had not done this for the glory of it. She had done it to avenge her bannerman and to hopefully teach those squires a lesson.

And, if Lyanna was being honest with herself, she had done it for a selfish reason as well. To prove to herself that she could. That she could be a woman, and a warrior. And to feel that freedom. After all, this could be the very last occasion she would feel this way. Unless she finally made the choice to forsake her duty as a highborn lady.

The sharp snapping of a twig tore Lyanna from her thoughts. Someone was near! She had removed all of her armor but she was standing right beside her weirwood shield that was leaning up against a tree. Any person that could put two things together could conclude who she was. Heart pounding, Lyanna rushed behind the tree and prayed to remain undiscovered.

The clearing was quiet for a long moment. Lyanna knew someone had entered it, but their footsteps must be light and trained. Lyanna focused on slowing her nervous breathing, as she would surely be discovered with how loud it was. But a minute passed, and another, and Lyanna thought she might be safe. That was, until someone rounded the tree she hid behind and Lyanna found herself face to face with Rhaegar Targaryan.

"Ah, well this is interesting."

Rhaegar had to admit he'd had a stroke of luck in finding the mystery knight. He had been quick to leave the stands and had just caught sight of the knight of the laughing tree entering the woods. He had quickly followed and was able to hear the sounds of the knight relieving himself of his armor. But in his haste, he had not been as quiet as he should and when he entered the clearing, he was only confronted with the sight if the beautifully painted shield leaning against a large tree. But Rhaegar knew the mystery knight could not have gotten far and first chose to peer around the tree upon which the shield rested.

Rhaegar had expected to find a green boy. But he was very mistaken. Instead, he found a young woman with long, brown hair curling down her back. Her silver eyes were wide and worried and she looked terrified. More curious, Rhaegar knew this woman. He had seen her on several occasions at the feasts and had caught her eyes on him as he played his harp.

It was Lady Lyanna of House Stark. Younger sister of Brandon and Eddard Stark. Daughter of Lord Rickard Stark. The beauty of the north that Rhaegar had heard drunken men talk about in both wistful and crude manners.

"It was you?" Rhaegar asked incredulously.

Lyanna did not respond. She only looked upon Rhaegar in fear, and Rhaegar need not imagine why. She was a lady and meant to be up in the stands with her family, not out on the jousting field pretending to be a knight. Trying to rein in his surprise, Rhaegar spoke to her again.

"Your secret is safe with me," he assured the woman.

Lyanna's lips twisted into a frown, her eyes searching him. Clearly, she wasn't sure if she should trust the prince. But Rhaegar would not tell a soul. Instead, he was fascinated by this woman. He wanted to know why she had impersonated a knight and entered a jousting competition under great risk. And he wanted to know how she had managed to defeat three knights.

"Are you alone?" Lyanna whispered.

"Yes," Rhaegar replied. "It was just I who was sent to find you. And I was not followed."

"Who sent you?"

"My father."

"The king!?" Lyanna nearly squeaked in fear.

Rhaegar could sense Lyanna's fear. He could see in the way she held herself just now that she felt trapped. Rhaegar took a calm step backwards, holding his hands up to show he had no intent on grabbing her and dragging her back to the competition.

"My father has become paranoid in his old age. But I have come simply to meet you."

"Meet me?"

"An unknown competitor of your size appears, bests three knights, just to have them teach their squires some manners? That certainly caught my attention," Rhaegar smiled. "So tell me Lady Lyanna, what could possess a lady of your standing to do such a thing?"

Lyanna stood rigid for a long moment before sighing. Gently, she lowered herself to the ground, rest her back against the tree, and began her tale.

Author's Notes

Greetings, readers! It seems like it's been forever since I posted a chapter. I have such little time to write and I have to split that time into two stories, this one and my new AryaXGendry story. My plan is to alternate stories. It can be hard, since this fandom is significantly smaller than AryaXGendry and I thrive on reviews and support. But I so do love this pairing and I will keep posting.

This was a difficult chapter for me to write because it is completely based on the story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, which is found in the books when Meera tells the tale to Bran. It's surrounded in theory, where some believe the Knight of the Laughing Tree is Howland Reed and others believe it is Lyanna. Take a guess at who I think it is. We also see Rhaegar and Lyanna finally meet! I was very torn on where to end the chapter. I would like to dedicate another chapter to the pair's first encounter, but I worried the next chapter then wouldn't be long enough or you readers wouldn't be satisfied with this chapter. So I kind of ended it where I did. I kind of feel like it's lacking but if I spent more time trying to work it out, it might be ages before you guys get another chapter. So I do hope this was satisfactory and if it's not, feel free to leave your annoyance in the reviews or in a message.

Things will move quicker now that the two have officially met. If you have any suggestions, I am more than willing to hear them. Thank you for reading! Much love.