A/N: Hello, all! I am very happy to publish something after a seven-month hiatus. I have 10 stories planned out in my head, but once I sit down to write them, they just magically disappear.

I'm still very hesitant about this idea because it's been done so many times already (and Reign has just started!) so I kept this first chapter short in an attempt to interest readers but not to bore them if they aren't. I hope you are the former! :)

Lyanna

Skies above didn't open up that day. They reminded her of the grey clouds of home, of the constant storm that always seemed to be gathering but never thundered. It was as though the clouds had followed her into this strange land, this enemy land. They comforted her, and if she tried hard enough, she could imagine that she was simply on a ride in the countryside. The reality was quite different.

As punishment for her father's crimes of treason in the English government, she was torn from her home and sent to live as a ward in a stranger's house. She'd been bought and sold like an animal, doubly used as a peace negotiation with France. She wouldn't show fear. The English may pride themselves in their navies and their armies, but a daughter of the Anglo-Saxons did not show fear.

Because there are always far worse things to fear.

Sir Gavin, the knight escorting her to the French court, had hardly said anything once their barge had docked on the mainland. The only sounds she'd heard that ensured his presence was the steady clop-clop of his horse on the Kingsroad. She could tell that he too felt uncomfortable on enemy territory, even in peaceful times. Sir Gavin was younger than most of the knights; in fact, overseeing Lyanna's journey to France was his first assignment. She had thought him quite handsome, with flaxen hair and green eyes that danced when he was laughing. Privately she felt that it was a waste that he had chosen to become a knight- with his looks alone he could marry very well.

The sky was darkening steadily, the clouds turning into a dark bluish-grey. Far in the distance she could see a shadow of a dark, block-shaped structure; she looked to Gavin, who nodded. He'd confirmed what she didn't have to ask.

They had arrived.

Sebastian

The court was abuzz with anticipation. It had been several months since they had been informed that they were to be hosting an Angle for who knew how long, and many couldn't decide if they were excited or disgusted. It would certainly be a change of pace, having an Angle at the seat of French power, but the English were a great enemy of the French. It wasn't often that French people interacted with those from the British Isles, even in times of peace. Stories ran rampant of the barbarians that lived in the north, of those that still worshiped the pagan gods and hunted with spears.

Sebastian often heard these stories on the tongues of the ladies of the court, who would stand at feasts holding a goblet of wine, spreading them in hushed whispers and wide eyes. They always stopped abruptly whenever he entered the conversation, because ladies weren't to be seen speaking of such harsh things.

But now this prisoner would be something new for them to gawk at. No one knew if Gideon Davenshaw had sent a daughter or a son. If it was a son, the ladies reasoned, they could at least hope he was handsome. But a daughter, they said, would be fun to play tricks on, and easier to mislead.

Sebastian stood in front of the Main House with the family. It wasn't a formal event, but it was custom to welcome any addition to the court, enemy or not. A feast had been prepared to celebrate their arrival, though false smiles would be adorning those loyal to the state.

Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Henry shifted impatiently from foot to foot.

"They're late."

"What else do you expect from the English?" came Catherine's snide reply.

The words had hardly left her mouth when horse hooves sounded in the distance. Sebastian looked to the end of the family, where Francis was standing rather stiffly next to the queen. Once, a long time ago, he had wished to stand next to his half-brother, the brother he'd known all his life.

There were only two riders, a knight and a woman. They stopped in front of the family, who gazed back out towards them. The king spoke first.

"Friend or foe? Name yourselves."

"Friends, sire. I am Sir Gavin Chaya, knight of the Kingsguard of England. I bring to you the youngest Davenshaw girl to be your ward."

"Come forward."

The knight dismounted first before turning to help the girl, clumsily lifting her from the horse and to the ground. Their quick steps cut through the cool air as they approached. Upon closer inspection Sebastian found that the woman was actually a girl, no older than eighteen or nineteen. Sebastian was always intrigued by a pretty girl, and this one was no exception; she looked fair enough, with dark chestnut hair that ran down her back in smooth waves. She was wearing a simple gown, but the material looked nothing short of expensive. Nobility, perhaps?

"Welcome to our home, Sir Gavin."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Gavin replied stiffly. "I would like to present your new ward, Lyanna Davenshaw, the youngest daughter and third-born to Gideon Davenshaw."

The girl managed a curtsy. "I am honored to become your ward, Your Grace."

Sebastian almost laughed out loud. He knew that her words were empty, but here she was with a smile on her face and acting like it was a treat.

"Welcome to France, Lyanna Davenshaw. This is my queen, Catherine, and behind me are my sons Francis and Sebastian." Sebastian's heart swelled with his father's words before deflating. Did he always have to come second?

"I am grateful for your kind hospitality." Her voice carried over the clearing, and Sebastian was surprised at her confidence. Surely Gideon Davenshaw wouldn't send his daughter, who was very much a woman, to be a prisoner in France. Surely.