sixthiterationlogs | "Under the Dappled Sunlight"

Entry tags:

"Under the Dappled Sunlight"

WHO: Lyanna Stark
WHERE: Around the village, the Woods
WHEN: Early June
OPEN TO: OTA, Jon Snow
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Open

Village

After a week's recuperation, Lyanna was back on her feet, energized and ready to explore. Her arrival had been during a hail storm, forcing her inside, along with the need to recover. Now that the weather had cleared and she could stand upright again, she wanted to see everything. There were a number of buildings that had been converted for different uses, like the police station. They received a passing glance. Instead, she headed towars the destroyed bungalows

There would be a number of things to take and claim, it just meant having to find her way inside. Carefully stepping over some of the debris, she peered into the broken windows. There was someone else passing by, someone that was out enjoying the day as well.

"Has anyone tried to go into these houses before?" She looked back. "What happened to them? They look like they collapsed."

The Woods

There were at least weapons available for use, including a bow. Gathering a handful of arrows, Lyanna headed into the woods. There was apparently good game, given what Jon brought back to the bungalow every day. It wouldn't be the same without a horse and hounds, but she would make do.

There were a few climbable trees, a place where she could sit and wait for the game to come out into the open. She hoisted herself up and perched herself on a large branch. Apparently others passed by often, as she would hear the brush being disturbed. Just as she took aim, she'd have to lower her bow at the sight of another person.

"You're scaring the rabbits."

The Woods - Closed to Jon

It was a strange thing to sit on a secret of this magnitude. Ned had told her the truth about Jon when she first arrived, but health and surroundings took her attention. There was so much else to process before she digested that her newly born son had grown into a man. She had lost so much time, surrendering him into the care of the man she trusted more than anyone. It didn't change the longing she had in her heart to know him better, to talk with him and learn about the man he had become.

But how to even approach it. Each time she tried to tell him she knew, she found the words wouldn't come. So instead, she fell back and retreated from the topic. She would ask other questions, but none of what she really wanted to know.

Having enough, she followed him out to the woods, making mention before that she wanted to hunt with him. She wasn't ever good with delicacy. So instead of easing into the topic, she simply blurted out, "I know you're my son."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The sun light was not as good for the plants as Rory had been lead to believe. Apparently, there was such a thing as too much sunlight. Rory knew they could dry the herbs needed for medicine, but it would only work if they were collected BEFORE they died. Otherwise, Rory probably wouldn't be out in the woods, but he needed to take this opportunity to practice his ability to identify plants for medicine AND save the plants from just withering away.

Much like the rabbits, he is unaware of anyone else in this part of the woods. This could likely get him killed--if it was someone after him. Instead, when he hears a voice, he looks up and then has to turn around, careful not to knock over the basket he'd been placing plants in. "The rabbits?" He notices the bow, blinks, "Oh...you're hunting. Sorry."

"I was trying to hunt." But she still flashes him a smile before hooking her legs around the branch, swinging back into a flip. The arrows spilled from her quiver as she landed on her feet. She smiled sheepishly, stooping to pick up the arrows. "I didn't think that would happen."

She set her quiver and bow to the side, leaning it against the true. "You are not hunting?" The plants in his basket should have made that obvious, but she was scrambling to think of the right sort of small talk. "Will you be using it for healing or to beautify your home?"

Even if the arrows fell, it was still a pretty impressive move. Rory blinks at her acrobatics--was she showing off or was that just something she naturally did. It certainly seemed to come naturally to her.

He crosses over to help her collect the arrows, feeling at least a little responsible since he was disrupting her hunt. "No, I'm not much of a hunter I'm afraid," he admits, not really ashamed of it since he's only stating the obvious. He knew how to use a sword and a gun, but that was about it--and that was more for fighting than hunting which he knew to be entirely different. "And it's for healing purposes. I was a nurse back home, so I try to help at the hospital here," he hands her the arrows he's collected, looking down at his own herb collection.

"Sort of new to actually collecting herbs though...so I'll need to have someone check these to make sure I didn't get them confused..." A lot of the plants looked the same, it made him wish that maybe he should have paid more attention to his father's gardening lessons as a kid.

Being in the tower for so long had left Lyanna without an outlet for her usual energy. There were no trees to climb or vast plains to ride across. While they were stuck in one place here, she at least had a way to release the tension and frustrations building inside her. She could burn like the wild flame she was.

It might have been showing off, but she was also like this normally.

"You are not a maester?" She collected the arrows, slipping them back into the quiver. "I don't know very much about plants, but I think there is someone in the village who would?" It would be wise to learn about the plants, not just for someone who treated medicine but for someone wandering the woods. None of them were familiar to her, something could be poisonous. "I could teach you to hunt?"

"A what?" He wasn't familiar with that word. Was it latin? It sounded a little like master, but he wasn't sure what the context was.

"Yes, there a few people, I've already been speaking to them which is why I'm out here in the first place. I guess this would be a bit like a test to see how well I can identify the right plants in the wild," he looked down at his collection. He just hoped he hadn't accidentally grabbed anything poisonous since he wasn't exactly using gloves. Although, part of the lesson HAD been how to avoid poison ivy, oak, and other foul plants.

Rory smiled weakly, "I'm not really interested in hunting. I think we have enough people taking care of that. But thank you for the offer."

"Maester." Where did she start in describing them. "Maesters are scholars, healers. They are an order that studies the histories and books of the realm. They know various subjects, history, science, medicine..." she trailed off. They weren't something she would find in this world.

"You found some mint." She reached to pull a sprig from his collection. She at least recognized something. "I don't know if it has medical uses, but if you chew it, your breath will smell good." Not that she was insinuating anything. For added effect, she popped it in her mouth and started to chew. The taste was overwhelming, but delicious and familiar.

"Then what do you do besides medicine?"

Baze had thought he'd been moving quietly, but apparently that's not actually enough. He peers up at the woman in the tree, then peers harder at her weapon. It can't be the kind he's used to, propelled by plasma or shooting a laser, but the physicality of it looks simple enough. "Snares work better for rabbits," he answers her, instead of apologizing.

"It's a better challenge to pick them off than use a snare." She twirls the arrow between her fingers, grinning down at him. "Where is the fun in easy hunting?" Hooking her legs around the branch, she swung backwards until she could release and land on her feet. "I'm Lyanna of House Stark."

"Baze Malbus," he answers. "If I had my gun I would do the same. Hunt rabbits the hard way." Because she's right: what's the fun in doing it easily? Especially not when the animals around here didn't really seem that hard to catch.

"Gun?" She glanced at him as she crouched to overturn some brush, making sure there were leaves and wild vegetation. The rabbits would come out more eagerly if there was something to eat. "Are you new as well?"

"Two weeks. About." Weeks is a relative term where he comes from, depending on what planet you're on or from, but he's been working to pick up the time scale used on this planet. Wherever it is. "And a gun-- projectile weapon like that." He nods to her bow. "Only uses different ammo. Mine was laser-based. Guess they don't have that here." Since he didn't get to keep it, and he hasn't found any means to recreate it yet-- not that he's been looking very hard.

She nods, despite not having an idea about what laser beams were. "I don't think so. There are a number of things in the village that I don't recognize. If you haven't seen laser beams among the weapons, I don't think they're here." She slung the bow over her shoulder, certain that she lost her chance to collect more rabbits today. "Are you exploring?"

"Wandering," he admits. There's less purpose to it than actual exploring, unfortunately. He's still feeling very adrift. He's eyeing her bow with more interest than he has anything else yet, though. "May I?" he asks, pointing to it.

The weapon was communal, something that you had to rise early and collect before others did. So there was no reason for her to say no, despite her initial and irrational hesitation. She held it out to Baze, grabbing an arrow from her quiver for him. "Do you know how to use it?"

"Ours shot plasma bolts," Baze answers, which is really only about half of an answer. He takes and examines the bow itself, before even looking at the arrow, running a hand over the wood and feeling the curve and tension, fingering the string for its strength and thickness.

"Does the wood wear down?" he asks. "Being this tight, bent into this shape."

"It's made to curve this way." She replied, removing the quiver from her back so it could rest against the nearby tree. "It can break or the string could snap. Winterfell had someone that could repair them, but I don't know if we have anyone here that could do that." Or the means to fix the bow.

"I could teach you to fire it?"

"Is this the only one there is?" Because while he hates to be without a weapon, he's also not sure about taking one from someone who actually does know how to use it, and probably will use it more than he will. He's still not as energetic as he used to be.

Jon had just nocked an arrow to take aim at a doe in the wood when he heard Lyanna's pronouncement and it shocked him so badly that the arrow slipped and the bowstring twanged against his forearm and left a bright mark. She knew? How long had she known? Who had told her? The latter, he imagined, could only have come from his lord father but even still, how long had she known? Why had she kept it from him?

"My...lady," he managed, not certain what to say. "How do you know?"

She wanted to reach out and touch his arm, soothing away the red welt, but held back. Not only was he older than her, she wasn't sure if he would want any maternal overtures. Ned was a father to him while she was a specter until now. When she arrived, he had to take care of her and help her settle into the village. What right did she have to try and assume the role of mother?

"Ned told me." The obvious answer. "He told me when I arrived." There was so much information, that one nearly broke her. She shuffled her feet awkwardly, looking up at him hesitantly. "He said you knew."

"Only recently. He'd told me just before you arrived," Jon confirmed. "You were so weak and so shocked by coming here, I didn't want to overwhelm you with seeing your grown son when you had only just given birth to him. I didn't want to frighten you. That was the only reason I didn't say anything."

It certainly hadn't been out of a desire of wanting to lie about it or keep her for knowing, that was for sure.

That she could understand. It had been overwhelming for her when she arrived. Not simply the fact that she was in another realm, but Ned was older and had children. He was different than she remembered him, the years weighing heavily on his shoulders. She knew that she was part of the reason he had become even more dour than when he was younger. Ned wasn't the only one to be affected by her death, Jon's like was undoubtedly difficult as well.

She fidgeted, wringing her hands until they turned red under the pressure. "I'm older than you." An obvious statement, but she was still struggling to think of what to say to him. She had been longing for her son since her arrival. She hadn't had the chance to really hold him or feed him. They hadn't bonded before she was already slipping away. It was Ned's arms that he rested in, not her own. It made her heart ache.

But in all her imaginings, she never though that it would all be bypassed. Her baby was now a man and she hadn't learned yet how to be a mother. "I trusted Ned to look after you and treat you well. I didn't think he would claim you as his bastard." Though she probably should have guessed. Her life had been slipping away, she didn't have time to consider it. "Robert...he would have killed you."

"My father would protect your honor until the very end. He wanted to be sure that nothing tainted your reputation, Lyanna. Nothing. Everyone thought that Rhaegar abducted you and raped you and if it had come out that you bore a bastard son, no one would have looked at you the same way again."

Jon drew in a sharp breath. "He lied to keep you safe. He lied to everyone - even his own lady wife - in order to keep you and me safe."

"He wanted to protect my reputation, but Rhaegar's suffered as a result." Something that pained her deeply. "I know that Ned isn't to blame for that. He didn't know the full truth of my elopement and Robert would have suspected something if he had said something." She could only hope that now Rhaegar's spirit would know some peace. He lived on in their son.

"Ned said that you think I was abducted and raped." She said softly. There was concern written on her features. Her chest felt tight at the idea. She had carried Jon in her and spoken to him while she was alone in the Tower, her only real source of strength and company. When Rhaegar died, she had promised herself that her son would know the truth of their union. All of her plans had ended in a bed of blood.

"He didn't do any of those things. I love him and you were created from that."

She nodded, "That's something I can never make up to Ned. He tarnished his honor for me."

"To hear him tell it, he would do it again," Jon said, laughing more out of relief than anything else. It felt good to be able to admit the secret, to have the heaviness of it off his chest so that he could speak freely with Lyanna and feel that he wasn't deceiving her for ill purpose.

"But I would rather there not be any deception between family any longer. I don't know that I can call you mother, we're of an age more or less, but I would like to think of you as my mother if you'd allow that."

There was no doubt in her mind that he would, but that carried its own guilt as well. Because of her, their father and brother had been killed. So many men had died in the rebellion and Ned had to compromise his honor and reputation for her. Her choices had been made for the purest reason, but failed to account for the fall out. "As I would do anything for him." She hadn't had a chance to prove that, but he had to know it was true.

"You want to tell them that you are my son?" She felt her heart seize in her chest, lost in her thoughts and feelings. They were a hum in her head, indistinguishable and dizzying. "I don't know how I would be as a mother." She never had the chance, but she hoped it would be enough for Jon. What had he imagined his mother was like? Was she a disappointment?

"You don't have to call me mother. Am I the sort of mother you would want?"

"You're beautiful and you're a Stark," Jon said, giving her a ridiculous sort of smile at the idea that she wouldn't be the sort of mother that he'd want. How could she not be? She had chosen love and started a war - it was reckless and the exact opposite of what he was.

"You're exactly the sort of mother that I would want. I wouldn't want anyone else for a mother than the one who risked everything to keep me safe."

It eased her mind to hear him say it, though it didn't change the guilt she carried for her actions. She hadn't considered anyone else when she had run off with Rhaegar. If she had, she might have spared so many lives. But all she could see and think of then was the wonder of love and that she could actually claim it for herself. "Beauty doesn't matter against a good person. I'm not so sure that is what I am. I was selfish."

But he was right. She would do anything to protect her son. If she needed to kill Robert to see it done, she would have. "I didn't do enough. When Rhaegar died, so much of me died with him. If I had kept a bit more strength, maybe I could have survived."

"You cannot help that you died in childbirth," Jon countered. "Lyanna. Mother," he said, wanting to stress that word now even if he never called her by it again. In this, she had been his mother and she'd done the best thing for him that she could have done. She had given him to his lord father to raise, to protect, and to shield from Robert Baratheon. It was as selfless and brave as anyone he'd ever known.

"You did what you had to do to keep me safe. You sacrificed your reputation, and Rhaegar's, to make sure that your son survived. No one would ever call you selfish for that."

The word tears through her, making her feel weak on her feet. She stops and leans against a tree, letting it support the strength she seems to seep away from her. Mother. It was a word that she had desperately wanted to hear, but never expected him to call her. Not since arriving in the village.

She wanted to argue, to point out how foolish she'd been not to write to her family, but there was little fight left in her. She didn't want her son to hate her. She gave her life for him and would willingly do it again. "It was Ned who shielded you. I gave you into his keeping."

"And you held on long enough to make certain that he could," Jon said. He could be as willful and stubborn as she could, given the right motivation, and he would not let her bear guilt for something that was in no way her fault. She had done the most important thing on his behalf: she had given him a father and a family. She'd given him the love of Ned Stark and his brothers and sisters and that was something that Jon cherished above all else.

"Please don't take this on yourself. I couldn't stand it if you did. It's not your fault and you weren't selfish."

He was defensive of her in a way she didn't expect. However much she wanted to believe his words, it was impossible to think that she was in someway not to blame for it all. The change in Ned, the loss of their family, Rhaegar's death, Jon's bastardy, and the death of so many men, how could they not be her fault. All she could do was smile sadly, she had no more protests left to give, only a silent understanding of the truth.

"You are like your father in so many ways." She murmured. "He always saw something in me that others didn't." Save for Ned. "You have that same gentleness and quiet soul." There was no wolf blood in him, not at all like Brandon or herself.

"There are many facets to a person," Jon said. It had been exceedingly true in his experience. In Sansa, he saw the gentleness and diplomacy of her mother but he also saw a steel-spined strength that had come from the Starks, a thirst for vengeance that could only come from the wolf and not from the fish.

"To only see one, to boil a person down to one part of themselves is to cheat yourself of all that a person is or that they could possibly become."

He spoke with a wisdom very few possessed. His age weighed heavily on him. He wasn't a child but a man, very much how she hoped he would be when he grew. She had hoped to witness the journey herself, but it was a relief to know that Ned had helped turn Jon into an honorable man.

"Ned told me that you only knew the story that Robert Baratheon spread."

"History is written by the victors. The Targaryens have been painted as mad and corrupt and King Robert was quick to condemn them for your death," Jon explained. He had only ever heard that version of the story and hearing it from someone his father trusted? It had to be true.

"My lord father fought with the king. How could it not have been true? He never told me that he saw you at your death. He kept your secret his whole life, Lyanna."

"Robert was a fool who couldn't imagine a woman not wanting to be in his bed." She snorted, wrapping her arms around her waist. "He had this idea of me, that'd I be this sweet, obedient wife that would push out children and never question him. Even if I did live up to that ideal, he wouldn't have been faithful to me. He's a hound in heat, he needs to rut with anything that has sizable tits."

She gives an apologetic look for her language. "Ned didn't know Rhaegar, only what I managed to tell him before I died. I didn't tell him then what happened to me."

"I never really knew him. He came to Winterfell before Father went south to be his Hand," Jon said. "But I went to the Wall, so I didn't have a chance to really get to know him - Lady Catelyn didn't let me sit at the high table. He seemed like a drunk, though, so your assessment isn't off the mark."

Jon sighed a little. "Will you tell me about Rhaegar someday? I don't know if I could call him Father, that's always going to be Ned Stark, but I would like to know about him."

"She didn't let you sit at the high table?" She reached out to brush a curl from his face. Her heart swelled and ached, the sad truth of his life plain before her eyes. A bastard had few rights and while Ned had raised him with love and pride, Jon had been on the outside, made to feel beneath his true born cousins. "Did she mistreat you?"

There was raw emotion in her eyes, raised whenever Rhaegar's face was raised in her mind. In looking at Jon, she could see traces of him in her son. "He is your father. I understand the love you bear for Ned. Never forsake it, but Rhaegar..." she touched her stomach lightly, remembering that moment she told him she was with child. "He was so proud."

Cougar isn't hunting today, but mainly because he's out of proper arrows and he needs time to make new ones. He did this as he walked to keep himself from growing sedentary, whistling aloud to keep himself company. He arches a brow when he comes across a woman with a bow, though Cougar probably has scared off all the rabbits nearby. "They will come back," he says, gesturing at her with one of his carved arrows. "Besides, I don't need that to get rabbit," he adds, just a little smug.

She scoffed at his smug response. "You are talking about snares? That's a bit too easy. There's no challenge in it." She twirled her arrow between her fingers. "I suppose you also use a net for fishing? What is the point?" He wasn't the first hunter to suggest it to her, but much like her everyday life, she enjoyed accepting a challenge. It might be foolish, but foolish could be fun.

"No, raising them," Cougar replies, though he has snares around the island, too. He gives her a raised brow and gestures to what she's wielding. "Need to carve more arrows for bow," he admits with a shrug, but he also does feel smug about being able to raise rabbits enough that he's able to start eating them as well as raising them.

"What happens if you run out of them?" he asks.

"I've had a few people mention snares to me. I suppose that shows me to choose a tree on an active path." She would need to remember the way everyone came to and from the village. "Did you capture the rabbits to raise or did they come to you in one of those strange boxes?" She saw a few of them on the front step of other houses, but had yet to get one of her own.

"Arrows? I will have to make more. I'm not an expert in fletching, but someone could teach me."

"No, I captured," he says, because he had spent a long time finding the right rabbits for his project. "I do some fletching, but only taught myself," he admits, which means that there could be something far better in technique and he doesn't know about it, but he also taught himself all the specifics he needs to know about shooting, so maybe he's not so bad.

He gives her an up-and-down look, trying to figure out how long she's been there. "How often do you hunt?"

"You know how fletch?" Her eyes widened, excitement clear across her face. "Would you teach me? I always wanted to learn, but my father had a limit to what he was willing to let me do." It wasn't proper. Thank the gods he never knew about her sparring with her brothers. "It would let me be of some use here."

She shrugged her shoulders, twirling the arrow between her fingers again. "Not that often. Sometimes my brothers would let me come along. I practiced archery alongside them though. Are you collecting more rabbits?"

"Not perfect, but yes," Cougar agrees, a serious look on his face. He gives her a curious look, wondering why the father would not teach that, especially since she seems to know enough about hunting and snares to have some teaching, but not specifically to fletch. "Some rabbits are to eat, some to raise," he says. "Have to be careful."

"If we hunt too much, then, no rabbits," he says, which had been a big concern for Cougar in the early days, when there were growing numbers and limited animals.

She was fortunate to grow up with three brothers, two old enough to teach her what they had learned, but only if she pestered them enough. For the rest, she watched and learned on her own. "This isn't the place to have a pet. You're right, if we hunt too much, we lose the meat we need to survive."

And stag seemed to be rare in the woods. "The village is large. How are we going to manage if more people arrive?"

"We plan," is Cougar's serious response, because he's been working at it with the chickens and rabbits to the point that he feels secure so long as the numbers don't go above a hundred. If they do, then there will be a problem. "I have chickens and a rooster. I have eggs, but also little chickalings," he explains. "Enough to feed. Then, I raise rabbits for the same."

It has none of the thrill and the joy of hunting, but it's steady, dependable food. It keeps them alive.

There at least seemed to be an equal exchange to those being brought in and those that were taken away. The village didn't seem to have an issue in all the time they had been here, which was nearing a year, according to some. Perhaps there was little reason to be concerned about running low on food?

"Would you be willing to help me trap a rabbit or two of my own?" She could at least contribute by tending to a pair of rabbits herself.

He nods his head, seeing as it would be easy to help her with this and Cougar doesn't mind at all, seeing as he could use the practice. "Yes," he agrees, though he's searching her over already. "Do you have hutches?" If she wants to raise them to the point that she'll get to eat them, he needs to make sure they prepare before they start trapping the animals.

Though, he wouldn't let them go, not totally. They would serve a purpose, either with him or with her.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Under the Dappled Sunlight"

The Woods

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Woods

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

the woods

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Woods

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject