Chapter Text
The grass was wet with morning dew beneath Lyna's feet. She had to search for a branch tall enough to hang her clothes on in order to keep them dry. Dake had been working her like a dog, day and night. The Sweetsip Inn was rarely crowded, but the Quince Festival had brought many visitors to Whitepine. Things would be easier if she weren’t the only one working there, she thought.
Dake was too cheap to hire anyone else. He scarcely even paid her. Her allowance was a pitiful thing: five copper stars each moon. He did let her stay at the inn, though, so it was better than nothing. Lyna tried not to be too cross with him. Dake was growing old and feeble, and she was all he had left. They were alike in that.
Lyna let out a breath as she stepped into the river. The water lapped at her waist, then at her breasts. The river was cold, but not terribly strong. Even Lyna could stand against the current. The cool water didn’t make her feel faint, unlike the hot water back at the inn. Hot water was better for soothing her aches, though.
She scrubbed at her pale body with her hands, rinsing sweat and dirt from her skin. Eventually, she dunked her head under the water. The cold struck her, making her shiver. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and legs, but Lyna didn’t mind. The cold had always made her feel more awake, less frail.
When Lyna emerged from the river, her teeth were chattering. She sank down on the edge of the river, letting one foot dangle in the water. Her fingers ran through her dark brown hair in an attempt to manage it. Detangling her hair when it was dry only caused a frizzy mess, so she always made sure to take care of it when it was wet. She hummed along to the chirping of the birds as she rested by the river. Lyna had her mother’s voice, Dake told her. Soft and clear, meant for singing.
Her vision began to swim, blurring around the edges a bit. Lyna put a hand to her neck, feeling for her pulse as she had done a thousand times before. She could feel it running like a rabbit beneath her fingers. Lyna’s eyes fluttered close. Her other hand went to her stomach. She could feel it swell as she took a breath in and shrink as she breathed out. In. Out. She stayed like that for what felt like hours. The birds continued their singing, and Lyna’s dizziness melted away.
She was so distracted by her breathing that she didn’t hear the man approaching until it was too late. The largest man Lyna had ever seen emerged from the forest, his blue eyes widening at the sight of her. His cheeks reddened like ripe apples as his eyes dipped down before shooting back up again. A cold bolt of fear shot through her. Lyna quickly drew her arms up around her chest.
Lyna knew all too well what a man could do. She was alone, far from the village. No one would hear her if she screamed, and she had nothing to defend herself with. What was she-?
The man still wasn’t doing anything. He was gaping like a fish, standing perfectly still.
“I’m sorry!” The man yelled as he came back to himself, clapping a large hand over his eyes. “I’ll— I’ll be going now!” He ran face first into a branch, groaning as blood began to drip down his nose. Lyna watched, wide-eyed, as he stumbled away with curses spewing from his lips. She sat in stunned silence for a moment.
She didn’t linger long in the river after that. She quickly dressed and let adrenaline carry her back to the inn. The sun had barely risen yet, so the common room was empty when Lyna arrived. By the time she had put on her apron and coif, the adrenaline had worn off. She sank into a chair, needing to soothe her heart once more.
She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyelids and thought of the man from earlier. He must’ve been part giant, with the way he seemed to tower over everything. She thought of the blood that dripped from his nose. Hopefully it didn’t break. One of the village children broke her nose last spring, and she lamented about how painful it was long after it had healed. She didn’t want the man who left her alone to face much pain. The door creaked.
“Up now, girl,” Dake groused as he hobbled into the room. He was a little old man with fraying white hair. He was perpetually hunched in on himself, as if he were always bracing for some unseen threat. “Time to work instead of lazing about.”
Lyna quickly pushed herself up, ignoring how the edges of her vision darkened. She walked up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. She gave a gentle push, guiding him to the chair she had been sitting in a moment ago. “I thought I told you to rest.” She could barely keep the disappointment out of her voice.
“And I thought I told you to quit with your mothering,” he huffed, though he sank down into the chair anyway. He was too stubborn to say it, but she knew his gout caused him a great deal of pain. She made sure to do his chores as well as her own whenever she could, though he’d never let her help with handling the money. She was just a girl, and handling money was a man's responsibility, he always said. Lyna picked up a rag and began to wipe down the bar.
“My sweet songbird.” Dake seemed to be done playing the tough employer for the day. “What would I do without you? You’ll have no trouble running this place when I’m gone, hm?”
“Please don’t say things like that.” She chided, gentle as she could. She truly hated when he talked like that. He certainly wasn’t as spry as he used to be, but he wasn’t on death's door. Besides, she didn’t much like to think about that.
“Most like you won’t even need to,” he continued, ignoring her, “what with that lordling hounding you and all.”
“He isn’t hounding me. He’s just… bored.”
“Mmm. How many years has he been ‘bored’ now?”
Lyna could feel ghostly hands running down her sides. Benjicott Whitepine had been her admirer for the past six years. The second her breasts had begun to swell, he was on her like a hound on a bone. He would do most anything that he thought would impress her. Once, he had bought out every room in the inn just to have her dote on him. Lord Coren had ripped him a new one for that, dragging him back home in the middle of the night.
It wasn't that she hated Benjicott; he was kind in his own way, mostly when he was too drunk to truly bother her. Besides, Benjicott was the least of her worries. The Quince Festival began the day after the next, and with the Quince Festival would come the Starks. Her father and his pups. His real family.
She managed to avoid him last year and the year before; it was easy to hide from someone who wasn’t looking for you in the first place. He had stopped sending money when she was small, shortly after illness took her mother. It didn’t matter to Lyna. Her father was clearly happy with his other children, and she didn’t wish to intrude. Besides, she was quite happy with her life, even though a small, secret part of her wished she might not have to work so much.
As she finished wiping down the bar, the inn's patrons slowly but surely trickled in. When she glanced at Dake, she found him dozing right where she had left him. She pressed a little kiss to the top of his head as she passed. She made her way to each customer, serving them breakfast and helping with whatever she could.
The man in the corner was kept awake all night by the well-loved-looking fellow in the corner. She gave him a key to a room on the other side of the inn. Two little children were badgering their wary mother. Lyna fixed them each a slice of buttered barley bread and offered the tired young woman a pillow. She had nearly gotten to everyone when the door opened, letting in a cold gust of wind.
“You—“ The tall man spluttered, his ears a fierce shade of crimson.
“Oh.” She forced a smile to her face. Be kinder to the patrons, Lyna. You wouldn’t like to be greeted by a frown after a long day of traveling, would you? “It’s you again.”
“Me.” He agreed. His eyes darted around, looking anywhere except for her. Poor thing.
“I would have your name, as we keep running into each other.” Lyna said, gentling her voice as much as she could. This man wasn’t a threat at all; she could see that now.
“Duncan the tall. Er— Ser Duncan the Tall. I am Ser Duncan the Tall.” The bald child at his hip gave her an awkward smile.
“Lyna Snow, if it pleases you, ser.” Her eyes flicked back to the bald boy. “Is this your son, ser?” He didn’t look much like the large knight. He was minuscule compared to the man, though anyone would be. His eyes were much darker than Ser Duncan’s bright blue ones.
“My son? Oh, no. No. That’s just my squire, Egg.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ser Duncan and Egg. Might I get you anything? A room key, mayhaps? Some food? We have eggs and barley bread with jam to break your fast.”
Ser Duncan looked as if he’d died and gone to heaven. “Aye, a room would serve. We’ll have both eggs and bread.”
Lyna could feel herself beginning to wobble. She discreetly rested against the bar. “I’ll get started on that for you, ser.” She fixed her gaze on his face to fight the wave of dizziness threatening to overtake her. She had to crane her neck, but she could see that his nose was swollen. Lyna felt a pang of guilt.
“I saw you hit your nose when you were running from me. Does it hurt terribly, ser?”
Ser Duncan shook his head so violently she was afraid it might fall off. The flush on his ears had spread to his cheeks now. “Yes— I mean, no.” He glanced at his little bald companion. “I’ve had worse. Thank you for worrying over me, m’lady.”
Lyna felt her cheeks warm as well, though hopefully she wasn’t as red as he was. A flush was charming on Ser Duncan, but it made her look as though she had a fever. The duo made their way to an empty table. Lyna allowed herself to grip the bar a bit tighter, taking a deep breath through her nose. She started on their breakfast.