Yield
Ser Arthur Dayne, outside of the Tower
Arthur could hear the horses in the distance and removed his cloak, letting it drop to the ground. He picked up his helmet from the rock he placed it on with resignation. He was almost tempted to leave Dawn behind and use his Kingsguard weapon but decided against it. He unclasped his belt, letting his second sword fall with a sigh.
He unsheathed Dawn and the great-sword glimmered in the sunlight.
“The Dawn may yield to Ice this day,” He murmured to himself. “But Ice will have to earn its victory.”
He walked with Dawn held in a reverse grip at the base of the guard, trekking down towards his sworn brothers. Both hated the heat, it was plan to see in their faces but their love for Rhaegar was enough of a reminder for them to soldier on.
“Arthur,” Lord Commander Gerold greeted him gruffly. “I don't feel comfortable with you taking the lead on this matter.”
Oswell grunted his agreement with that statement and gave Arthur a gimlet eye. Arthur knew that both of them questioned his loyalty to their cause, given both his ancestry and Arthur's more than healthy respect of the Starks. Or rather, the respect he had for them. He couldn't respect the current heir for what he did to his sister, Ashara.
“I have been here the entire time as I swore to do, Lord Commander,” Arthur replied coldly. “What more do you want from me?”
“The Starks are traitors, I don't believe them to be honorable in this case.”
“What does that have to do with me and my request to treat with them?”
“You were one of the Hersir before you were Kingsguard,” Oswell spat at him, Arthur could hear the horses getting closer. “What's to stop you from joining with them against us?”
Arthur knew that the Hersir were far from respected outside of the Northern Kingdom and whatever pockets of First Men families were left. It was something that many South of the Neck tried to abolish with little success. Prior to this war, no one had really treated Arthur badly in the Kingsguard because of what he was. Rhaegar had even been fascinated by it.
But now, things had changed and his friends were not his friends any longer. They were scared Andals who were reminded of the power of the First Men. The power they could have had if they banded together to fight the foreign invaders.
“If you truly have a problem with it, then kill me now and deal with the rebels on your own.” Arthur tossed his sword to the side and spread his arms wide.
“Pick up your bloody sword,” Ser Gerold grumbled after a moment of tense silence. “We don't have time for this.”
Arthur did as he was told and began to walk away, his sworn brothers followed behind him. He could see the Northern warriors walking towards them with a few people that didn't belong, like Ser Barristan.
Arthur walked a bit further before plunging his sword into the ground. Many a sword maker or enthusiasts would chastise him for such an act but Dawn could handle such treatment. It was not a simple blade after all.
Arthur tucked his helmet into the crook of his arm and eyed the opposing force of twenty men. A sardonic look crossed his face before he addressed the leader, “Lord Stark.” His brothers footsteps stopped behind him.
“Ser Arthur,” Lord Rickard nodded at him. “Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell.”
Neither of them replied in any manner that Arthur could hear or see.
“In the name of our ancestors, and in the name of the true Gods of Westeros, I wish to treat with you personally, Lord Stark.”
That didn't seem to surprise the older man who responded quickly with a nod.
“We searched for you on the Trident.”
“We weren't there,” Arthur said lightly.
“The Usurper would rot in all Seven Hells had we been,” Oswell growled out.
“Along with all of you.”Gerold added.
Arthur tilted his head slightly and fought the urge to roll his eyes. There went his plan to get their surrender.
“The Mad King is dead, and Rhaegar lies beneath the ground,” Eddard Stark snapped at them. “Why weren't you there to protect your prince?”
“Our King wanted us here, to protect his wife and child.” Arthur snapped back with a glare. How dare you speak to us in such a manner, Arthur thought angrily.
“So she ran away with him,” Rickard Stark looked sad while the others looked shocked or bristled at what they must have felt was a lie. “Why didn't she say anything?”
“She wrote you missive my Lord, she had it sent to her brother, Lord Brandon.” Arthur said more respectfully.
“Brandon never received any letter, he wouldn't have done what he did if he had.” Eddard Stark snarled out as his father gave him a warning glance.
“It doesn't matter, you're traitors to the crown, you broke your oaths,” Arthur said calmly. “And in the culture of the First Men, we know what happens to oath breakers.” Arthur donned his silver helm and hefted his sword. The ringing sound of metal being drawn from their sheaths rang out behind him.
“Brothers, this doesn't need to end like this, surrender.” Barristan pleaded with them as more swords were drawn.
“We're not your brothers anymore Barristan,” Gerold snarled and Arthur found himself in complete agreement so he didn't stop him. “Jonothor Darry was our brother. Prince Lewyn Martell was our brother. How could you kill him? Why would you betray him? How could you and Ser Jaime betray your sacred oath?”
Ser Barristan said nothing but he did stare at them somberly as he drew his sword.
“I give you this one chance to surrender to the true heir of Iron Throne,” Arthur called out. “On my honor as the Sword of the Morning, we will be merciful to those that lay down their arms.”
None of them replied so he spoke again.
“We all swore oaths to protect our queen and her child or die trying. We will be keeping these oaths. Now lay down your arms!”
“I will see my daughter with or without your permission, Ser Arthur,” Lord Rickard replied heatedly. “I will not yield to you.” Grey eyes met with purple and narrowed.
“Then so be it,” Arthur took a deep breath and readied himself. He met the charging warriors head on, ready to kill as many as he could before the Stranger could claim him.
Lord Rickard Stark, inside the Tower
The door swung open when he kicked it in. There lay his daughter, pale and covered in sweat.
“Father, is that you,” Rickard ignored the Maester and what he assumed was a wet nurse holding a bundle and went to his daughter.
“Aye Lya, its me.”
“It is you, you're not a dream,” She said weakly. He grasped her hand and kissed her forehead.
“No sweet girl, I'm not a dream.” Oh Lyarra, I've failed our daughter, Rickard thought as his eyes began to fill with tears. Tears of relief and sadness as he stared at his little girl. His daughter was dying, he knew just by looking at her. And if the Maester here hadn't been able to help her, then this may be the last conversation he had with her.
“What's wrong with her? Is she hot? Then get her some water,” Ned voice snapped from behind him.
“Ned,” Lyanna called out, her voice a bit stronger than before.
“Lya,” Ned joined them and rubbed her arm awkwardly. “What happened to you? What did Rhaegar do to you?”
“Nothing I didn't want,” Lyanna whimpered and she started to cry. “I'm so sorry about Brandon. I didn't mean for that to happen.” Tears leaked down her face even though she shut her eyes tightly to stop them.
“That wasn't your fault, you didn't know,” Even if Rickard wanted to blame her he couldn't. He needed to only look into her eyes to know that she blamed herself with more intensity than he could ever dream of doing.
“I want to be strong father but I don't have much time. Please you have to -” She stopped with another loud whimper. The cry of a babe erupted from the bundle that the other woman was holding in response. “Bring her here, Wylla. Give her to my father.”
Her? Rickard thought, turning to the one known as Wylla as she approached him cautiously. She handed the bundle off and he peered at the tiny red face that howled up at him.
“Visenya, this is your grandfather,” Lyanna continued and the babe stopped crying at her voice, its face still flushed. Rickard stared at his newest grandchild who stared back with teary Grey-purple eyes and tiny whimpers. Her hair was mostly dark but he could see the makings of a small strip of pale blond hair. There was no mistaking whose child this was.
“She's beautiful,” Ned said softly reaching out to caress his niece. Visenya cooed at the touch and nuzzled her cheek against her uncles hand.
“Like her mother,” Rickard murmured his agreement. Lyanna touched his face, gaining his attention.
“I have no right to ask this of you, but promise me that you'll protect her,” His daughter pleaded with him. “Ser Arthur told me about what happened to poor Aegon and Rhaenys, Robert will kill my daughter if he finds out. Don't let that happen, please. Promise me father, promise me.”
“I promise Lya, I will protect her.” How could he say no to his daughters dying wish? Lyanna gave him a smile, one filled with relief and pain before her face relaxed and her head tilted further into the pillow it rested on. Rickard shifted his granddaughter so that he could hold her in one arm. He reached a hand towards his daughters face and closed her eyes. His eyes closed in grief but he refused to cry. Now was the time to be strong, he could grieve later.
“Ned, hold your niece,” He held Visenya out towards his son. Ned took her awkwardly, unused to holding such a small and precious thing. Rickard stood tall and leveled a glare at the woman and Maester in the room.
“I know your name,” He said coldly to Wylla who gulped nervously, “But I don't know yours.” He shifted his glare to the Maester.
“My name is Luwin my Lord.” The man said calmly hands raised in a placating fashion.
“Of House?”
“I was born in the Reach, but I have no house.” Typical Maester response, but one that often rang false. His own Maester, Walys, hadn't bothered to tell him the truth of his parentage or that he was selling information to the Citadel about his kingdom. Rickard had the man removed but he was pressured to find a new one by the same organization that benefited from these grey spies.
Rickard glanced at Ned who nodded his head slightly. Luwin was telling the truth then. A good start.
“Very well, I want you both to tell what happened during your time here. I would hear all of it.”