Lady Stark told her not to go to the feast, out of fear that the royal family would be offended that a bastard would sit near them. Lord Stark, on the other hand, told her to stay at the lower tables, and hide amongst the common folk, because he wanted his entire family with him. With the way the king was staring at her, even past the commoners, she wished that she had heeded the Lady's request. His gaze was almost suspicious, searching, and it nearly frightened her.
"You, bastard," the king called. "Come here!"
She looked around, but knew who he was talking to - he was pointing right at her and beckoning her with the same finger. She slowly rose, approaching him. She gave a courteous bow, giving him a small smile despite her feelings.
She knew...she knew that something was off about him. He slurred his speech, his breath rank of meat and pure, strong Northern ale and even a hint of wine; she could smell it even from a few feet away. She almost felt sorry for his wife.
"What is your name?" He asked, his voice loud and echoing throughout the great hall.
"Lynara, Your Grace." She replied softly.
"Lynara..." He repeated her name leisurely. "Your name...it is almost like hers."
"Hers, Your Grace?" She had an idea of who he was talking about but asked anyway. His gaze told her all he needed to know, so fond and so softened from his hard stare just moments ago.
Then it was true. The woman that he spoke of was the woman her father never talked about.
"Lyanna." The king said her name as if she was the last thing on earth. Eyes shifting to the Queen, Lynara saw the obvious disgust written all over her face, though she tried desperately to hide it. "My love, Lyanna. You look exactly like Lyanna. My beautiful Lyanna..."
The way he uttered his dead love's name almost made her think he was slightly mad. But Lynara said nothing, just watched him closely. His blue eyes weren't so stormy; they seemed to be full of admiration than anything else. He whispered his dead love's name, over and over, until he was pulled out of his trance. His stare became hard once more, and his grip even tighter. Looking over at Robb, she could see him clenching his jaw in anger, his fists into tight balls, knowing that he couldn't outright defy the king, even to defend his sister.
Slowly, he began to rise, striding towards her, grabbing her arms so she wouldn't move or back away. He said Lyanna's name again, breathing into her face so harshly.
"You're not Lyanna. Your eyes are purple. You have...you have his eyes. The eyes of the man I killed." He released his grip on the baseborn's arms to turn to the Warden of the North. "Purple eyes...he stole her from me; he's her father. Ned..."
"Who is he?" She heard the queen ask.
"Rhaegar. She's Rhaegar's, isn't she, Ned?" He seethed, his large hand smacking hard on the table, barely missing the fork that surely would have pierced his palm. Spittle flew from his mouth as he continued, "I ought to have you hanged for treason!"
She needed to do something, and she needed to do it fast. Thankfully, Lynara had a quick mind.
"Your Grace, I am not Lyanna's." She stayed where she was, hoping that her lie would stop him from potentially attacking her father. "I'm the daughter of Brandon Stark and Lady Ashara Dayne; they met at the Tourney of Harrenhal after he danced with her."
"Are you lying to me, girl?!" The king roared.
"No, Your Grace," Lynara bowed her head respectfully, watching him eye her in suspicion. "They had a night together and they had not known that she was with child. They parted ways and my father died before she could tell him the truth. Lord Stark-" she motioned to her father, "-brought my mother Dawn and the bones of her brother, Ser Arthur...she gave me to my uncle in grief; she knew that she was in no state to take care of me - and she subsequently threw herself from a high tower."
"Why..." Lynara heard Lady Catelyn speak, but as she faced her, but she was only staring at her husband. "...why would you keep it a secret?"
"He kept it a secret because he didn't want to upset his you, my Lady; my father was your betrothed."
Catelyn's gaze softened, but gave him a 'we'll-talk-about-this-later' look. "Ned..."
Robert nodded in acknowledgement. "There is nothing about you that speaks of deception."
"I would never lie to you, Your Grace. I resemble Lady Lyanna because she was a member of my family, my aunt. My father was her brother...but I have my mother's - Lady Ashara's - eyes. My uncle told me."
"How long ago did Ned tell you?" He finally returned to his seat across from Lynara's still body, past Queen Cersei's face, which was twisted in disgust and disappointment, watching his body lax and recline in the decorative chair.
"Lord Stark told me about a fortnight ago." She felt a little more confidence, knowing that he was believing such a lie. "He told me that I needed to know the truth before it was too late."
"Is she speaking the truth, Ned?" Robert turned to his old friend.
"Yes." He replied, still focused on Lynara. "All of it is true."
She bowed, preparing her exit. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Robb's look of betrayal, Lady Catelyn's surprise, and Arya's gaze full of worry. She only hoped that her father wasn't upset with her after lying to someone so royal.
"Lyn..." The baseborn heard her nickname from the other side of the door by a smooth, deep voice. "May I come in?"
"Yes," she called, and she saw him enter.
"Why did you do that?" He asked, closing the door and locking it behind him. "Why would you protect me?"
"Because I didn't want to see you die. I would rather tell a lie than have you harmed because of me, Father." She held his hand, giving it a small squeeze.
"How do you come up with something so intricate?" Ned questioned. "I have never told you such things."
"I overhear a lot," Lynara smiled. "There's been a lot of talk about who my mother is amongst the common folk. They can be quite curious of bastards and their true parentage." She chortled. "They talked about her story, about her tragic end. I drew from that."
"This brings me to something important...there is something that I must tell you. You cannot tell anyone, Lyn...please. Not Robb nor Arya, do you understand? You saw what could happen if you do."
"Of course, Father." She gave him a nervous nod.
"What I'm about to tell you is nought a lie. Do you trust me?"
"Yes," she whispered. "I wouldn't dare accuse someone as honourable as you as untrustworthy."
He shot her a gentle smirk. "When I see you, I see her. You have her smile, her laugh, the shape of her eyes...you like some of the things she liked...you really do take after your mother."
Stunned, she sat in silence, mouth agape...forgetting when or how to speak.
Is she still alive? Does she care about me?
"Robert was right, Lyn..." Ned nearly faltered, looking up from his hands to watch her movements. "...my sister is your mother."
"Lyanna is my mother?" With that question, he nodded. "So you..."
He almost laughed. "No, no...if the rumours are to be believed, I am not a Lannister. I am not a Targaryen, either. But you, you are."
"I am a Targaryen?" Her father nodded at the question. She came to the realisation and added, "Rhaegar kidnapped and raped Lyanna-"
"No, they were wed. They were deeply in love, Lyn - they just didn't know that it would cause the deaths of thousands." No one could possibly have known...
"What is my real name? You said that my parents married, so what is it?"
"When Lya passed you to me, she told me it was Visenya."
"Visenya..." She echoed slowly. After the Conqueror's sister-wife. For some reason, she felt like it didn't fit her. Perhaps it was because she was so used to being called Lynara?
"While I do appreciate the truth...does it matter? Only a daughter would do anything to save their fathers, even lie to a king." She shot him a lazy smile, then hugged him close. "You saved me from a life of being a whore, from being mistreated by lords and everything else in between. You taught me how to wield a sword, you provided me with a roof over my head, a warm bed to sleep in; even though your lady wife was against it, you showed me pure love and let me live amongst your children. Lying is the least I could have done; I think sacrificing anything is a good way to prove how much you love someone…and you sacrificed a lot for me."
"I think so, too." He told her, returning her embrace with a voice full of pride. He didn't want her to see it, but his eyes nearly swelled with tears. "I love you, Lyn."
"I love you, too, Father."