Chapter 5: The Bonds of Blood

Winterfell, the Godswood

The moon hung high in the sky, casting its pale light through the ancient branches of the heart tree. Lyonel stood rooted in place, staring at his uncle—Jaime Lannister, the man who was not only his mother's twin but also the true father of Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen. The weight of the secrets between them was palpable, and in the stillness of the Godswood, it seemed as if the trees themselves were listening.

Jaime's usual cocky grin was absent tonight, replaced by something more guarded, more serious. His golden hair gleamed under the moonlight, but there was a hardness in his eyes that spoke of the battles he'd fought and the lives he'd taken.

"I know what you're thinking," Jaime said, his voice quiet but sharp. "You see the truth, and it weighs on you. You see the lies we've built our family on."

Lyonel's hand tightened on the hilt of the sword at his side, though he made no move to draw it. He stared at his uncle, feeling the anger roiling beneath his calm exterior. He had always known about Jaime and his mother, but standing here now, confronted by the man himself, it was different.

"I've known for years," Lyonel finally said, his voice low. "That my so-called siblings aren't Robert's. That they're yours."

Jaime's expression didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "And yet you've said nothing. I wonder why."

Lyonel exhaled, turning to look at the heart tree. The ancient face carved into the wood seemed to judge them both. "Because it would tear our family apart. My claim to the throne, everything we've worked for… it would be gone in an instant if the truth came out."

"And you've kept the secret to protect us?" Jaime's voice was laced with sarcasm, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity there.

"I've kept the secret because it serves me," Lyonel replied coldly. "For now."

Jaime chuckled, the sound low and humorless. "You're more like your mother than you realize. Always thinking five steps ahead."

Lyonel's gaze hardened. "I'm nothing like her."

"Maybe not," Jaime said, stepping closer. "But you're a Baratheon. You have your father's strength, and you'll need it in the days to come. You're right to keep the secret—for now. But one day, Lyonel, you'll have to make a choice. The truth will come out, and when it does, you'll have to decide which side you're on."

Lyonel turned to face him fully, his eyes locking onto his uncle's. "I know which side I'm on. My own."

For a long moment, they stared at each other, the tension between them thick. Then, with a curt nod, Jaime turned and walked away, leaving Lyonel alone in the Godswood.

The Great Hall, Early Morning

The next morning, the royal party gathered in the Great Hall for breakfast. The mood was lighter than the previous evening, but there was an underlying tension that Lyonel could sense. Eddard Stark had yet to accept the position of Hand of the King, and Robert Baratheon, despite his jovial demeanor, was growing impatient.

Lyonel sat at the long table beside Sansa Stark, who was still as bright-eyed and hopeful as ever. Across from them sat his mother, Cersei, her eyes cold and calculating as she surveyed the room. Joffrey, as usual, was sulking beside her, while Myrcella and Tommen ate quietly.

The King was in a good mood today, his booming laughter filling the hall as he spoke with Eddard and Ser Rodrik Cassel.

"You know, Ned," Robert said between bites of bread, "you could learn a thing or two from my boy here." He gestured toward Lyonel with a meaty hand. "Strong as an ox, just like his old man. And a damn fine swordsman too."

Eddard Stark gave a small, approving nod toward Lyonel. "I've heard as much. The North respects strength, and Winterfell's always open to those who know how to wield a blade."

Lyonel met Eddard's gaze with a measured look. He knew that gaining Ned Stark's respect would be crucial in the coming days. The Stark family's loyalty was not easily earned, but it would be invaluable.

"Thank you, Lord Stark," Lyonel said, his voice polite but steady. "It's been an honor to train with your men."

Eddard's sharp eyes softened slightly. "You're welcome here, Lyonel. I've no doubt you'll do great things."

As the meal continued, Lyonel felt Sansa shift beside him. She was watching him with a quiet curiosity, her blue eyes studying him as though trying to read his thoughts. He turned his head slightly to meet her gaze.

"What is it?" he asked, his tone gentle.

Sansa blushed slightly, lowering her eyes. "It's nothing, Lord Lyonel. I was just… I've never seen a man fight like you. You're different from the others."

Lyonel's lips quirked in a small smile. "Different, how?"

Sansa hesitated, then looked up at him again. "You seem… more focused. Like you always know what's going to happen next."

Lyonel considered her words for a moment. Sansa was observant, more than he'd given her credit for. But there was still an innocence to her that he couldn't afford to indulge. She was betrothed to Joffrey, and though Lyonel knew his brother's true nature, he couldn't reveal too much to Sansa. Not yet.

"I've been trained to think ahead," Lyonel said, his voice calm. "In battle, it's the difference between life and death."

Sansa nodded, her eyes lingering on him a moment longer before she turned her attention back to her meal. Lyonel glanced around the hall, his mind already working through the next steps he needed to take.

The Courtyard, Later That Day

Lyonel watched as Jon Snow mounted his horse, preparing to ride to the Wall with his uncle Benjen Stark. The air was crisp, and there was a sense of finality to Jon's departure. Lyonel stood by, his arms crossed, watching the Stark bastard with a mixture of respect and pity. Jon was leaving to join the Night's Watch, a fate that Lyonel couldn't help but think was beneath him.

Jon caught Lyonel's eye and gave him a small nod. "I'll miss sparring with you."

Lyonel nodded back. "And I'll miss besting you."

Jon's smile was brief but genuine. He swung up into the saddle, adjusting his cloak. "Take care of the Starks for me. They're good people."

Lyonel's gaze flicked to the Stark family standing nearby, bidding Jon farewell. "I will."

Benjen Stark rode up beside Jon, his face serious but proud. "It's time," he said, his voice gruff.

Jon glanced back at his family one last time before urging his horse forward. Lyonel watched as the two riders disappeared through the gates of Winterfell, the heavy wooden doors closing behind them with a resounding thud.

Lyonel felt a pang of sympathy for Jon. The life of a Night's Watchman was harsh, and Jon was walking into a world of ice and shadows. But Lyonel had his own path to follow, and his own battles to fight.

Cersei's Chambers, Late Evening

Later that evening, Lyonel found himself summoned to his mother's chambers. Cersei was seated by the fire, a goblet of wine in her hand. She looked up as he entered, her face lit by the flickering flames.

"Sit," she said, gesturing to the chair across from her.

Lyonel obeyed, sitting down and regarding his mother with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Cersei was many things, but she was not known for summoning her children for idle conversation.

"You've been spending time with Sansa Stark," Cersei began, her tone light but laced with an undercurrent of something more dangerous.

Lyonel raised an eyebrow. "She's a Stark. And she's betrothed to Joffrey. I'm simply trying to learn more about the family."

Cersei smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "The Starks are not our friends, Lyonel. Eddard Stark is too dangerous. His sense of honor will be our undoing if we let it."

Lyonel met her gaze evenly. "I understand the risks, Mother. But we need the Starks as allies for now."

Cersei's expression hardened. "Don't let Sansa's pretty face fool you. She's a means to an end. Nothing more."

Lyonel remained silent, knowing better than to argue with her. Cersei was playing a dangerous game, and she expected Lyonel to play his part. But Lyonel had his own plans, and he wasn't about to let anyone, not even his mother, dictate his path entirely.

"You've always been the clever one," Cersei said after a long pause. "Just like me."

Lyonel stood, his gaze steady. "I'll do what needs to be done, Mother. For the family."