Chapter Seventeen: Feathers

                                    

                                          
Three agonizingly long days passed and her father still did not wake. Lyanna spent those days curled up on the couch, Winter laying with her, howling occasionally. Sansa and Arya visited, when the septa let them, but most of the time it was Lyanna and her wolf.

                          
The harsh kicks from her child persisted, and so did Lyanna's worry for her son or daughter. She knew she should relax, that the stress from her father would do neither her or the child any good, but she couldn't help it. 
                          
The one benefit of sitting with her father for three days straight was that she hadn't seen Joffrey since the night of the attack. She'd heard that he was disgusted at her, that she should have obeyed him those three nights ago and not gone to see Lord Stark. She had heared that he planned to teach her a lesson when he saw her next. However, she didn't take Joffrey's threat seriously as she couldn't even take him sincerely, let alone his threats. 
                          
"Lyanna, you need to eat something," septa Mordane said to her on the third day, kneeling by her. As Lyanna had not moved from the little couch, she hadn't eaten anything in three days, and it had taken its toll on her; she looked a wreck. Her skin was paler than usual, her hair was oily and needed washing desperately and her face looked slightly gaunt. 
                          
"I don't want to eat anything," Lyanna muttered, looking over to Lord Stark who still looked awful. Lyanna leant over to him, pushing the hair out of his eyes. Her eyes lingered for a moment, before she looked back to the septa.
                          
"You're pregnant Lyanna," the septa said simply.
                          
"I really didn't notice that," she rolled her eyes, looking out of the window, irritated. 
                          
"Do you think your father would want you to starve yourself?" the septa said sharply, and for a moment, Lyanna thought that she was talking about Brandon Stark. "Do you think that Jory would want you to starve yourself?" Septa Mordane knew that talking about Jory would upset her and she looked regretful. She looked like she was about to say something else, but she gave up, walking away and out of the room. 
                          
Lyanna spent the next two hours curled up with Winter, dozing in and out of consciousness. When she woke up, she felt tired, not how she normally felt after being asleep, as well as feeling more cramped than usual. She felt compressed, like someone had hold of her around the chest and stomach and was squeezing her. She felt like she couldn't breath. She got up, paced around, but that didn't make her feel any better. 
                          
As she was pacing, the door opened and the king walked in. "Your grace," Lyanna nodded quietly, watching as Winter leaped up from where she had been laid, jumping up at Robert. 
                          
Before the king could even reply to her, Cersei walked in. She looked at Lyanna and Winter with utter disgust, more than usual. "Leave us," Cersei said sharply to her, and not in the mood to argue, Lyanna ducked her head down and got out of the room as quick as she could. 
                          
Lyanna got halfway down the corridor at a usual pace before having to stop, breathless. She keeled over, gasping for breath before sliding down the stone wall, her hands pressed against her aching stomach. Winter trotted over to her, pining, licking her face as she tried to get back up. Somehow, she managed to get back to her feet and somehow she managed to get back to her room. She didn't feel well, but she wasn't sure if it was just the stress from her father being hurt and Jory being killed, or if it was actually the baby in her causing her illness. 
                          
Jory. She hadn't thought about him for the past few days and now she felt awful for forgetting about him being killed. She felt herself grow angry about not only the fact had she forgotten, but he was actually  dead, and wouldn't be guarding the door whilst she ate breakfast with her sisters, or escort her around the gardens.