Chapter Text
Lyanna rearranges the strap of her bag as she steps out of the elevator, a small smile on her face. She can’t wait to tell Robert that she made it. In fact, she’s so high with the joy of it that she thinks she won’t mind too much if they end up making out on the couch in a gauche display that no one will ever see to her ever-lasting relief.
The keys clink as they smash together in her careless hold. Lyanna picks them one by one, more out of habit than anything else, choosing the right one. She inserts the key into the lock and turns it gently. The door unlocks, permitting her entrance. Lyanna opens it and steps inside.
And then it happens.
A moan rings out in her apartment. A woman’s moan. In her apartment. Where her boyfriend was supposed to be waiting for her. Her first thought it to excuse it. Robert may just be watching porn. People do that sometimes.
But something’s not right. It’s a feeling really and the fact that there is a slightly less perceptible scent in the air, but now that she’s felt it, Lyanna cannot put it out of her mind or escape its presence. It’s perfume. Sweet, almost cloying.
In her mind she’s praying that she’s wrong in her assumptions right now. Because, despite the fact that she doesn’t love Robert, they’ve been together for six months and that’s some time for her. A lot of time. Carefully, she steps over the hardwood floor towards her bedroom. She’s still praying even as she opens the door and hears a grunt that sounds suspiciously like Robert.
And there it is. Her boyfriend of six months having sex with some unknown, nameless woman. She is shocked, despite herself.
“Fucking hell,” Robert managed to get out at the sight of her in the doorway when he turns his head slight towards her. “Lyanna. You’re back.”
But she can only close her eyes and whirl around. Lyanna thinks she’s going to be sick. Counting in her head backwards she tries to work through the hurt and anger towards something resembling coherency. Behind her clothes rustle. She doesn’t want to turn around and look. She truly doesn’t.
But in the end turn around and look she does. The woman gives her an apologetic, embarrassed smile, as if she herself didn’t know of the girlfriend’s existence. But since she’s not freaking out and trying to rip Robert’s head off, Lyanna assumes that she did in fact know.
“Good, now that you’re dressed, maybe I can hear an explanation,” she says a lot calmer than she feels.
Roberts runs his fingers through his hair and utters a curse. “Seven hells. Look, don’t start crying,” he tells her, pulling his shirt on. Fine. She won’t. “This is as much your fault as it is mine.”
“What the hell?” she bristles. “What do you mean this is my fault, you arse? Am I the one rolling around with someone else here?”
“I warned you though,” he returns just as harshly. The woman excuses herself, stepping past Lyanna out into the hallway and then slipping out the door which closes with a soft thud. ”Are you dumb or deaf? We’ve been together six fucking months and all I got out of you is nothing, you frigid cunt.”
That’s it. “I told you I wasn’t ready, you arse. Get the hell out,” she yells through the burning feeling in her throat. “Out! Out, get the fuck out of my house right this instant.”
“With pleasure.” He spites her by grabbing one of those ugly porcelain figurines his mother sent over.
“Don’t bother. I’ll put everything of yours together and you can pick it up later,” she says, grabbing at his shoulder.
Robert shrugs off her hold and steps into the hallway. “Fuck you, Stark. Oh, wait, I forgot. I can’t. You’re so tight down there I couldn’t even fit a finger. Cold bitch.”
But he’s leaving and Lyanna will take consolation where she can get it. Somehow, she follows him out. The woman has left.
To her utmost embarrassment, one of their neighbours has just opened his door, no doubt on his way to someplace much nicer, and has probably heard them quarrelling. Lyanna blushes to the tips of her ears and feels tears stinging her eyes. The sensation of tiny needles piercing her it inescapable.
Thankfully, he has more tact than to stare. He simply walks past them and to the elevator, pressing the button. Given the third party, Robert just glowers at her. “I’ll be back for my stuff. Don’t you fucking dare throw it away.”
It would serve him right if she did. Lyanna huffs, turns around and slams the door in his face, turning the key in the lock just to be sure he won’t get in.
Stark and Baratheon a done deal. That’s what the headline of the latest gossip column says. Lyanna feels the compulsive urge to crumble the paper and sent it straight to the bin. But she can’t help but allow her eyes to investigate.
Gods, at least he didn’t go tattling. Lyanna puts the paper away and stands to her feet. She doesn’t feel like doing anything. So, she walks to the fridge, pulls out a carton of ice cream and makes her way back to the couch. One hand searches for the remote and she changes to some movie. An old thing really, that will make her feel even worse about her life than she currently does.
But Lyanna watches it anyway, because a broken heart – or rather a bruised ego – must have some perks.
Her phone rings sometime during the evening, but she cannot be bothered to stand up and answer. So Lyanna lets it rings and keep on watching her movie.
By this time, she has tissues in her hand and damp eyes. The protagonists are going through one heavy breakup and she cannot help but think of her own. It’s pathetic, but it’s her own fault, to be sure. She wonders when Robert will come for his stuff. “Please, gods, let it be soon.”
Cersei snorts and pushes hard against Lyanna’s shoulder. “Do you want us to bury you in that or something, Miss Havisham?” She waits a few moments, but then her nails are digging into the skin of Lyanna’s shoulder. “Get up. So he called you a frigid cunt. So what?”
“He was my boyfriend,” Lyanna snaps.
“Well, it’s not exactly like you’ve been trusting and all that. You could have just told him about your problem.” The blonde sits down on the edge of the bed. “Don’t be daft, Stark. Men like sex. You weren’t giving him any.”
”I tried.” Gods, she did. Lyanna sniffles lightly. But her problem just won’t go away. “Last time he had his hands up my shirt, I nearly wretched all over him.”
“Did you do that counting stuff in your head properly?” Cersei hands her the bottle of water she’s been holding. Lyanna nods. “I don’t know then. I think you need help. Professional help.”
Of course she does. Lyanna is just too much of a coward to admit it. And how would she even explain this to anyone. She can just see it, her opening her mouth to tell this faceless stranger that although she is curious, she wants to, she tries very head, she just can’t have sex. No matter what she does. When the situation grows even just a bit sexual, she’ll balk. And it’s so fucking frustrating.
“Look, give it a rest for now. Go shower, get dressed and come with me,” Cersei cajoles. “I’ll take you someplace nice.” The promise has a reluctant Lyanna getting out of bed and shimmying out of her clothes. Cersei wrinkles her nose at her, a sort of fond exasperation on her face. “Go on.”
So she does. She heads to the bathroom and spends entirely too much time washing her hair out and scrubbing herself clean. When she comes out, she sees that Cersei has been pulling all of her clothes out of the closet. “Stark, you have no sense of fashion.” She throws Lyanna a pair of jeans and a shirt. “You’re lucky there’s no dress code where we’re going.”
Lyanna shrugs and pulls on the clothes. At least Cersei won’t let her wallow. She dries her hair and Cersei combs it because otherwise it would take a million years.
Jaime gives her a dry look. “Another one flew the coop, eh, Stark?” He hands her one of the foils. Cersei sits down on one of the benches. “Sis told me you’ve been locked up in that hole of an apartment of yours for a few days and skipped practice.”
“You sister tells you entirely too much,” Lyanna assures him. She rolls her wrist in a relaxing motion.
“As long as I have someone to practice against,” he shrugs. Jaime pulls his protective mask on and Lyanna follows his example.
They work through a few simple motions together. And then the true thing starts. Lyanna pushes into an attack, barely giving Jaime time to react. He’s bigger and stronger than her, but Lyanna is faster. It’s not exactly an evenly matched arrangement, but she does need the catch up on her practice.
She strikes him across the chest and his foil touches her hip. They draw apart. Cersei looks up from her phone. “Don’t lose to him, Lya. His ego is bad enough as it is.”
The two resume their practice.
This feels so good.
Robert sits across from her, coffee before him. His face is a mixture of mortification and contrition. Lyanna is sure her face is a mirror of that. “I was angry. That’s my only excuse,” he ends. “This turned out worse than I had envisioned.”
“It’s fine,” Lyanna hears herself saying. It’s not fine. “I’ve my share of blame as well.” He gives a sharp, sharp nod. “But we’re both adults. I’m glad we can part on amiable terms. You should come by and get your things.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that.” He pulls out his phone and looks at his schedule. “Are you free next Monday?” Monday, evil day.
“I have practice in the afternoon, but I’ll all free otherwise.” Her hand is itching. Lyanna looks down at her lap.
Then Robert is speaking again. “Then, I’ll drop by on Monday.” This is very, very awkward. Being an adult is harder than Lyanna had imagined. But Robert is friends with her brother and Lyanna isn’t the sort to ruin such a friendship just because things didn’t work out between them. “By the by, I heard you made it to the finals.”
Lyanna nods her head. “Mhmm. I’ll be going to Pentos next month.” She smiles at him. “And I have heard your team is playing against those bastards from the Rock.” Robert smiles too at that. “Good luck there, captain. You’ll probably need it.”
“Against the Rock?” The smile turns into a grin. “You just keep your eyes on me, Lya. I’ll show you.”
“If you say so.” They are not likely to keep in touch. “I’ll be sure to watch.” It’s time to act the Cinderella and flee before the clock strikes midday. Lyanna looks at her phone screen. “Well, I still have some things to do, Rob. I’ll be off then.”
“Do you want me to take this for you?” he gestures at her soda. Lyanna shakes her head and pulls out the bills from her wallet. “Some things never change, I see,” Robert laughs.
“I suppose. See you around, Baratheon.” She climbs to her feet, draping her jacket over one arm.
“By the way, Stark. Go see someone for that problem of yours. It’s not normal.” He doesn’t say it loudly. And no one is looking, but she still feels like shushing him. One last quip then.
“Duly noted.” And with that she leaves him there to whatever he is going to do next.
Her mother gives a disappointed look. “Oh, honey. I just don’t understand. Robert was so nice.” Well, Lyanna hasn’t really got to telling her about the cheating. Maybe it’s better no one knows given the circumstances.
“We weren’t happy together, mom,” Lyanna says, taking a sip of her orange juice. “There’s no use in beating a dead horse.”
“My stubborn daughter,” Lyarra replies, fondly touching the tip of her finger to Lyanna’s cheek. “Perhaps it was just not meant to be. Here, try this.” The spoon appears before her lips as if summoned by magic. Lyanna opens her mouth reluctantly.
It’s not any worse than she was expecting. But she still swallows with difficulty. “Did you put Dornish reds in this?” Lyanna nearly chokes.
Lyarra nods her head. “I though it might spice things up.”
“Too much spice,” Lyanna manages to give the verdict between gulping down juice and coughing. Her mother is a true danger in the kitchen. “Why not have Brandon do the tasting?” He might actually like it.
Ned enters the kitchen, Ashara Dayne in tow. The two of them are so in love it’s actually a bit sickening. “Lyanna,” her brother’s girlfriend greets, sitting down next to her. “I thought you wouldn’t be visiting, what with the competition and all.”
“I decided to stop by a couple of days before I’m shipped off to Pentos,” Lyanna laughs. “Besides, I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Aww, I missed you too.” Ashara pats her arm, gently. “Why don’t you just move back here? King’s Landing is too far away and I rarely get to see you.”
“I don’t want to crowd mom.” Lyanna gives Ashara and Ned a knowing look. “I’ve heard she’ll have her hands full anyway.”
“Benjen told you, didn’t he? That little jerk. I told him not to tell.” Ned accepts mother’s offering with the same dubious look as Lyanna. He has a better time of masking his reaction though.
“So, when exactly will the happy event occur?” She asks, handing Ned her juice glass. Her brother downs what is left of it and gives the glass back to her.
“Midwinter.” A bright smile paints Ashara’s lips and her hand rubs the slight protrusion. It’s oddly fitting. “A Stark through and through.” They all laugh at that. Ned bends down to press a kiss to Ashara’s cheek. “I don’t think I’ll be able to hold onto my Dayne name much longer.”
“You ought to make an honest man out of him, my girl,” Lyarra pipes in.
“You really should,” Lyanna seconds. “Have you guys given any thought to the baby’s name yet?”
“Why? Do you have suggestions?” Ned teases.
“Of course I do,” Lyanna plays his game. “If it’s a girl, you can name her after the coolest woman alive. And a champion to boot.”
“You haven’t won yet,” her brother reminds her.
“Yes, but I see you are not denying my coolness.” Which is a point in her favour, after all. Lyanna beams at him.
“Can’t argue with the deranged, sis. It’s bad form,” he returns.
Cersei plops down on the chair next to hers. “I can’t understand why you wouldn’t let me get us first-class tickets.” Her eyes roam the expanse available. “This is atrocious.” Jaime gazes up from his book with a sharp look as if to say do you mind, I’m reading here. “What do you have against the finer things in life, Lya?”
“Nothing really.” She holds her soda to Cersei who takes it without a word and gulps down what Lyanna supposes is half of it. “It’s just that I don’t want you paying for me, Lannister. I might actually have to thank you.”
“Oh, so because of your pride, I have to be as plebeian as this?” Cersei snorts. Which in itself is pretty plebeian. Lyanna decides against pointing that out. “Shove off.”
“You certainly didn’t have to come with us,” Lyanna can’t help but say.
“As if I’d miss this.” Cersei has entirely too much time on her hands. And Lyanna thinks that yes, someone has to cheer for Jaime, because she will definitely be on Dayne’s side this time. “I really think my baby brother has a shot at winning.”
“Right. Just let me mull over that for a moment.” There is no way Jaime is winning against Arthur Dayne. Cersei glowers at her. “It’s good exercise. But Dayne is just better.”
“Your faith in me warms my heart, Stark,” Jaime mutters. But he is conveniently ignored.
“We all have our off days,” Cersei reminds her. “I’ll just have to pray extra hard that the one when he fights against Jaime be one such day.”
“This is surprisingly petty of you, Cersei.” Lyanna grins. “I like it. Let’s see then whom the gods favour.”
Cersei takes Lyanna’s soda again. “Let’s see then.”
There are only so many moments in which Lyanna feels like the earth should open up and swallow her. Among them she can count that one time Jaime kissed her and she ended up barfing the little food she’d eaten on their date all over his shirt. It’s baffling that they are still friends. Another involves a woman in a smoky bar and the discovery that it’s not boys that make her sick, but sexual stuff in general. The third is her breakup scene with Robert.
Out of all these moments, the only one which has an actual witness is the last. And that witness stands in front of her. She doesn’t know if it’s worse or better that he doesn’t seem to recognise her.
Cersei is too busy instructing Jaime about how to haul the many things they have packed to pay much attention to Lyanna’s distress.
Her neighbour passes by them. Lyanna turns her head just slightly and sees him boarding a cab. Relief floods her. “Come on, you two. I would rather we reached that hotel before the bloody end of the year.”
“This is why you need to get your problem fixed, Stark,” Jaime snarks. “You would be so much easier to get along with after a good tumble between the sheets.”