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Fangs and Claws [Closed]

Robb found his loyal vassals there, along with Lenore's. Lady Mormont was the first to greet him, "I would not have missed it." He told her, but did not speak to her silent disapproval of Caireann. She wasn't the only one. Ser Hill upon the back of Torrent also did not appear happy with his decision to bring Caireann. He sat perched nearer to the center, disregarding Bolton.

If Roose approved or didn't, Robb couldn't make it out as he came to stand at the center. Caireann could stand at the side nearer to Hill. Tybalt and Lymond were also there, but only Maege and the bastard had swords.

The host approached and Lady Stark seemed to break away first. Robb strode forward to meet her, the smile on his lips widening with affection. He had missed her. "Mother," he greeted, almost overly formal in tone - intentionally so. He had never been in a position to greet her as kin and loyal vassal at once before. She had done well in bringing them all here. "I am relieved to see you well."

As the host drew forward, Robb drew a step back. He inclined his head respectfully to the Tyrells, "Lords and Ladies of House Tyrell," he greeted, lifted his head. He didn't know them for certain but could guess. "I, Robb Stark, King of the North, welcome you to Lannisport."

~***~

When Catelyn broke rank, Olenna looked to Margaery, and the two women rode forward to be nearer to Lord Willas's side. "Do you know them?" Margaery asked Olenna, as faces and signs became obvious.

"Some." Most by reputation, like the Bear and the Flayed Man. Someone once tried to say that Mormont could prove a rival to her, but Lady Olenna had her doubts then. A woman to be feared on the battlefield no doubt, but there was a softness to the lines of her face.

Lord Bolton was another matter. Flayed man with hardly a single line, as if he never worried or laughed. She knew him by reputation as well.

Then there was the Spoon, a diminutive man - unassuming, old, yet once a knight like most in his house, and the man who protected a lion. A man more interesting than he appeared.

Lymond Vikary, another knight - silver lion and boar. Known for his skill on the battlefield and two wives but naught else.

There was no red lion. There was a young woman with reddened blond hair and freckles in blue, but Olenna knew her for Caireann - she had seen her before years ago. The other figure was some Lannister bastard by the looks of him, an indignant and regal type that Loras was likely to like only too much.

Then there was the king, who looked more Tully than Stark with his blue eyes and dark auburn hair, curled around his face. "He's handsome," she heard Margaery whisper and managed not to chuckle or roll her eyes. That girl...one thing on her mind.

Robb greeted them, and Olenna remained silent to let the men handle these initial gestures, but it did bother her that so-called Reyne was not there.

~***~

Lenore did not look back at Jaime even as he drew closer. "I don't fault him for it." Tywin was under immense pressure and it would only escalate. The attack on King's Landing would hopefully be first, and then Casterly, but those were not plans she would divulge to Lord Stark. Nor to Jaime, even if he kept trying to talk as if he knew.

Jaime would be there, because Lenore would not trust him alone in Lannisport, under guard that wasn't herself, Hill, or the other few she allowed herself to trust. "You will be. Then you can sleep in your own room." When they won.

If they won.

The touch was unexpected, however light, and Lenore tensed, immediately looked back to try and see where Yularen was. Apparently he didn't care about the approaching army any longer for Lenore didn't see him.

Still...

She moved her hands a fraction to remove the touch. "I don't think it will be as easy next time. No water." If Lenore was taken down at Casterly it would be to violence - sword or arrow. Jaime would not be near enough not armed enough. "You're welcome to try." All the same.
 
Upon reaching the gate, it was the King's mother that was greeted first. There was respect in his tone, but Catelyn found her heart skipping a beat at the sound of her son's voice, full of joy at her meeting. "And I am happy to see you," she murmured, but did not comment upon his appearance. He did look distressed, or at least the exhaustion was hidden well behind the bright eyes.

He turned to the rest of the rest then, to greet them into Lannisport, and Willas was the one to urge his mount forward. Loras had gathered himself by his side in silver armor - which he had insisted to wear that day - but his eyes were scouring the small crowd that awaited them in front of the city. They landed on what seemed to be a lion, tall and broad of shoulders, but with a frown that darkened his golden complexion. He lifted his visor, caught his eye in the dim light, and pulled it back to hide the smirk.

"Your Grace," Willas's voice echoed through the walls, low but flowing as though he were reciting another poem he had learnt by heart. "I am honoured to meet you in person. My family and I have heard many good things about you, and Lady Stark has convinced us to see those things with our own eyes." He turned to her then, but he still addressed Robb Stark, "I am sure you will not disappoint."

It was when he turned that he caught the glimpse of something else - someone else - in the near distance. It was dark, but his eyes distinguished those features he had only read and heard of: honey coloured hair, freckles and a pair of hazel eyes, humble and kind. His stance broke, and he sought his grandmother in the ranks behind him then, hands seizing the harness.

And Caireann did look at him, trembling from the cold but unable to step further. He appeared tall on his horse, lean and pale from the long road, but his features were sharper than the other Tyrells'. Margaery's nose perked up and her eyes glimmered with a contained excitement as she glanced at Robb, whilst her brother looked almost sullen. She wanted to give him a small smile, but his stare broke when he turned to the Queen of Thorns.

"We are tired from our travel," Catelyn addressed her son. "I presume you have made the preparations for our guests to feel at home," or hoped as much, if their arrival had not been too hastened.

~***~

It seemed that he would, indeed, follow her to Casterly Rock once everything was settled. Jaime hoped his leg would heal by then, or at least get better, to allow him to limp freely instead of relying on a pair of crutches for the simplest of movements. Riding a horse would be difficult as well, for it required stirring with his feet, which he could not do in his current state.

One week, she had said, but he hoped it was more.

The touch broke at her resolve, and Lenore appeared to turn cold once again. He had wanted to give her some sort of comfort, reassure her, but Yularen's ignorance was not enough to allow for the subtle stolen moment. "I wonder what I will break this time if I do try." He presumed this once, he would not be as close to the battlefield to try to rescue her. Most likely, chained somewhere in the rearguard.

It struck him then, and he turned his eyes to her. "Vikary?" The man was one of the few she truly trusted. He would be needed in the battle, whether Lord Tywin brought his troops at the castle to bear the waves or not. "Hill." Most likely, the man would no longer watch over him. If he followed her to Casterly, he would be fighting as well. Yularen was a knight, but he was still way too young.
 
Willas did not look to be a cripple in his saddle. He seemed tall and strong, though the way his legs hung gave him away. He was reminded briefly of Bran, and Robb's heart ached. At least Willas clearly had his mind and wits about him, for he spoke well. "My mother is a representation of us - I owe much of who I am to her." He said, "We have had rooms prepared for you and yours, and space can be found for some of your host in Lannisport. For the rest, my men will assist them in setting up camp."

"Well and good, Lord Stark."

Margaery had to bite down a 'correction'. Her lips wanted to say 'your grace' but she would not dare correct her grandmother.

Olenna dismounted from her painted horse, batting away a knight who came to help her. She walked forward, finding riding usually distasteful. "But are we not to be introduced to these fine vassals and allies who have showed up at this late hour to see us." A way to affirm the girl was Caireann, learn who the bastard was, and have a chance to learn where the Reyne was.

"Of course. Lady Olenna?" She nodded in confirmation.

"Unless you see an older Tyrell."

Robb offered his arm and Olenna took it to be led forward, and Margaery immediately hopped down and led her horse a bit closer to pay attention to the details. He offered introductions to each, name and lands, but at the knight he gave the usual 'Ser Hill'. He glanced to Olenna after pulling his gaze from the knight of flowers who for some reason needed to lift his visor.

"Wait." Olenna didn't let him move away. "Does he not have a small name like the rest? Who was his esteemed father that he should be a noble bastard?"

Robb actually didn't know his name.

The knight spared him. "Adryan Hill. I serve House Reyne of Castamere and Tarbeck Hall. My father was Tygett Lannister."

"Thought you were a lion." Olenna sniffed. "Where is your Lady?"

"Confined by Lord Stark." He stopped caring about Robb's reputation when it was done, so he added no details.

Olenna turned to Robb before he could speak in defense, "Caireann Lannister?" She gestured to the sweet girl in blue. Robb nodded, tongue tied from the whiplash if changed subjects. "So we have one prisoner here to see us, but the Lady Reyne is not, nor Ser Jaime."

Robb clenched down his jaw momentarily, to straighten his words. "I understood Lord Willas had an arrangement with Lady Caireann. I wanted him to know she was unharmed," Robb offered. Not the full truth but not a full lie, either.

And Olenna heard that omission. She did not speak to it, though.

~***~

"Please don't break Hill or Vikary," Lenore said with a shake of her head, amusement masked only in tone. A smile had alighted on her lips. She knew what he was asking. Who would be there with Jaime when they went to battle. "If Lymond is unable to take his place in the vanguard he will be with you."

Ser Hill would be at her side. Usually it would be Lord Farman but he was away to another battle, so Ser Hill would stay near. "Likely it will be Ser Hetherspoon or Ser Vikary - Lymond's nephew." Gerald's son. Young men who could fight and who would not turn against her or do something reckless.

"What about me?" Yularen heard his name and looked through to the balcony. He did note how close they stood together and decided to step out. Jaime supposedly saved her...but he might still push her over the edge. Okay he didn't believe that but Ser Hill would be cross with him if he wasn't paying attention and something happened.

Lenore stepped away as she turned to look at Yularen, "Simply discussing who doesn't get to join the fun of the Battle for Casterly Rock - you may have to stay with Jaime."

Yularen's expression became an immediate pout.
 
Willas hesitated before dismounting his horse. His eyes searched for Robb Stark, and it seemed that he was caught in a conversation with his grandmother. He lowered his hand and removed the cane from the support attached to the saddle and pulled himself down on his feet. Straightening his back, he found the strength to make a few steps forward, eyes lowered to the ground before him.

He did hear the remarks then, as he spoke, but chose not to interfere. Instead, he turned to one of his guards and lowered his voice. "See that the rest of our men find the path to shelter." It was good that most of them got a roof for themselves that night, at least. Robb must have made great efforts to free rooms for his bannermen and soldiers alike.

Olenna's voice echoed when she said the name of Caireann Lannister, and Willas turned his head then, in search for the girl. His grandmother had taken the King's arm, and that whom she knew was Caireann watched them pensively, arms clenching the ermine around her shoulders. A woman approached, tall and hoary, but there was a youthful spark in her eyes when she drew closer to the girl. Her hand sought to pull the blanket up and settle it around her shape, to which he read words of gratitude on the girl's lips.

He wanted to hear her. Wanted to speak to the woman that had been promised to him for so long, but he knew it was not the moment. She looked at him then, but he couldn't read the expression etched on her face. Anxious. Willas inclined his head and stepped in line with Margaery, who was just hopping off of her mare, and Loras, who trod haughtily behind him.

"Your flower," the young knight spoke, and Willas could almost hear his smirk. "She seems sullen."

"It is late," he defended, to which Loras pulled his helmet off and lifted his brow, but did not answer.

Catelyn Stark spoke then, eyes fixating her son. "The girl is jaded. She should be escorted to bed soon," never contemptuous, but her appearence could have been postponed until the other morning. Though, the look in Robb's eyes spoke more words than she needed to hear.

~***~

Jaime was somewhat relieved he did not have to be guarded by Lymond, but the thought of spending a whole night trying to digest Yularen seemed like a worse nightmare. Still, the boar was not ready for battle just yet. Less than two weeks had passed after the incident; if he was going to fight, he might as well break open his own wounds beforehand.

"At least the view will be nice," Jaime teased as he turned to face Yularen. "You are as much a flower as Loras Tyrell." He was young, and his features were quite feminine. It seemed to be a thing in the South; he was the same wy, though a bit more rugged by age and battles. He could swear stress had made his golden hair duller and put more wrinkles on his skin.

The sound of silence let him know that the Tyrells had finally reached the gates. He could no longer see the front of the line, the rest of the army was still there. Likely, he would hear more in the morning. "I won't be sleeping well tonight," not with the fuss that threatened to disturb his tranquility. Most of the roses would share the same floor with him. It ought to be an interesting week.

And there were only four days left of Lenore's confinement. As soon as she walked out through that door, he doubted Catelyn Stark would be able to hold her in place either. "This is another kind of chaos. Those flowers will blabber everywhere." Thankfully, his confinement would never be over.
 
Margaery was half tempted to hit Loras's arm, but it would hurt her fingers more to do so. Instead she said, "Of course she's only tired. It's very late," Margaery agreed with Willas. "I am sure she will be much more lovely in the morning, and delighted to meet you then!" Ever the optimist.

They heard, "She will be escorted to bed soon," Robb agreed, but soon did not mean then. Even if it had he was not able to say it. Olenna interrupted the thought.

"Willas, Margaery, Loras," she called and Margaery perked up. "Do you three intend to stand back there and cluck like hens or are you going to come meet Lord Stark?"

Margaery moved swiftly forward, "Forgive us," she beamed to Olenna before she looked to Robb as Olenna let go of his arm. She took his hand as he moved to offer it and curtsied low. The cut of her pale green dress would allow plenty of moonlight to highlight the flesh there, and Robb's eyes did drop, light and necklace making it impossible not to. "I am Margaery Tyrell, Your Grace." She introduced, rising to meet his eyes. "I am glad to meet you. Your mother did speak well if you, and we all understand the justness of your war."

Robb wanted to comment if that was truly so when they aligned with Renly but did not. She stole his edge with her earnest gaze and gentle squeeze of his hand. "Thank you, Lady Margaery."

She smiled, stepped back, to let Willas and Loras come forward.

Olenna turned her attention to the bastard. "Ser Hill." She determined as the knight of Castamere he was close to Lenore. "Can one see your lady?"

"Yes," he stated, "Any time."

"Good." She let her attention shift, touched Margaery's arm. "Go with Loras and see Lady Reyne. Set a meeting with her tomorrow." Olenna would not be denied, but she would see her in the morning. Margaery ought to have a knight escort her.

~***~

Yularen could only sigh at the comment of his looks. "I do try to leave you with pretty ones," Lenore said. "I know how you like Hill. I won't tell your father." Might as well play the game if Jaime kept calling them pretty.

Yularen was, but those features were desirable in the South. Some effeminacy, flowing locks, and a devious smirk was handsome in the South. Yularen had to work on the smirk. "You both are questionable," Yularen just huffed. "At least Jaime has an excuse for not being wed."

Lenore gave him a wry smirk. "Woe is me - I have been discovered." Snickered as she turned away from Yularen because she could not keep a straight face. "I like the soft and pretty things, too." A lie and Jaime knew it - Yularen knew it by the way it was said.

But he laughed. "Knew it." Then shook his head. "At least with the Tyrells here we'll have better food."

"Just to impress them."

"Still."
 
Caireann's eyes followed the scene that developed before her, shifting from one flower to the other as they spoke. She had been close enough to hear them speak about her, but never showed interest, in respect for Robb. She was still a prisoner then, there only for the eyes of Willas Tyrell, who did not appear to wish to look at her anymore. Indeed, she was not in her best shape, dishevelled as she was, but her glance sought his, trying to read his stern expression. It spoke nothing to her, and she should not care, but did.

Margaery neared Robb to introduce herself, a warm simper spreading across her rosy lips. The girl was even more beautiful in the light of the moon, pale skin glimmering with luminosity and her hair falling in perfect curls that framed her bust. Even he seemed to have observed it, for his eyes lowered and lingered on her decolletage until she lifted herself back up. Voice softened, he thanked her for her kind words, and his eyes followed her attentively until she left his side.

A painful burn. Caireann had dressed up for him before, but never had his gaze lingered on her that way. She felt her cheeks burning and her heart tightening in her chest. Stepping back, she shielded herself in the shadow of Lady Mormont, in hopes of not hearing anything more, but the waves were not loud enough to cover their voices. It was Loras that drew closer then and bowed before Robb as he held his helmet beneath his arm. "Ser Loras. A pleasure." He offered his hand to him then, before catching up with Margaery to the side.

Willas did not introduce himself then. He waited instead, lips parted as though he intended to speak, but he hesitated. Their men slowly began walking through the gates and making their way along the pavement towards the castle. He followed, forcing his gaze to avert from the sight of the woman closer to him then. She did not move yet, trembling under the ermine, and he fought the urge to offer her his arm. It was not how he wanted to introduce himself to her – barely limping and breathing scarcely. His mood did not allow for it either, and she did not appear to be feeling well.

Her eyes never left Robb Stark.

Lady Catelyn came in line with Maege, Caireann quickly falling behind them. She greeted the girl with nothing more than a nod, to which she responded similarly, and the She-Bear addressed her first. "You have been missed, Lady Stark," sincere. "Many things have happened in your absence." Too many, all at once, and she ought to be informed soon, most likely by her own son. It was how she would receive them best.

"There is enough time for those matters to be discussed in the morning, after a good night's sleep," for all of them. Cat needed it the most, for she had not peacefully closed her eyes once on their way towards Lannisport.

Maege nodded and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, then briefly turn her head to check if Caireann hadn't fallen asleep, before resuming her stance.

~***~

Jaime enjoyed the smirk that tinted Lenore's lips. The ghost did not appear as dangerous then, though her voice did hide other intentions. First Hill, then Yularen... He was doomed to live in the presence of golden cats and naïve spoons. At least Lymond had been a pleasurable change to the routine; the man was anything but a pretty spoon. "Oh, it would be a tragedy if my father found out I fell for another lion," he peeked at her, then turned his head towards the sea.

Once again, a lie. Lenore Reyne was made for soft things just as he was made to be Caireann's father. They both did not fit their roles; Jaime was surprised she had done as much as kissed him. "No, you cannot show any kind of affection," he shook his head theatrically, "otherwise you will risk being rumoured of having a heart." Unacceptable. The Ghost had to keep her untouched appearance. Sometimes he did wonder if there was any difference between her and Lord Tywin.

With one last glance towards the sea, Jaime took his crutches and returned into the room. Warmth greeted him once again, and he felt the tiredness seeping back into his bones. "Could we brag about everything else in the morning? It is late." He wanted to rest before he did anything stupid. His mind was already cooking things Yularen should not hear; if he slipped then, not even his innocence would cover his ears. Still, he couldn't hide the looks he gave Lenore – lingering, as though he were seeing her for the last time.

The conversation about his father was still on his mind. The battle was bound to happen soon enough, and regardless of the odds, Lenore did not truly have nine lives. She was eager for it, yes, but once she stepped onto the battlefield she was on her own. A cat between wolves and lions, nothing more. One stab to the back, one blade to her throat, and it would all be over... Once, he would have considered doing it himself; now, he prayed for her heartbeat.
 
Robb’s attention shifted to Ser Loras as the knight step up. He took the man’s hand in his to shake it, feeling the firm grip, “It is good to meet you as well, Ser. I’ve heard much of you,” the good, as well as the…scandalous. He wouldn’t mention those, of course. He’d likely hear them soon enough if he stayed in Ser Hill’s presence.

That poor knight.

Willas, however, did not approach. Robb wondered if he offended the lord somehow, but was taken from the thought by Olenna huffing and shaking her head. Clearly, to her, Willas was being the rude one. “Well, Lord Stark, would you show me to my quarters? It has been a long ride, as Lady Stark said, and I am quite tired.”

“Of course,” he offered her his arm and she took it, glancing towards Margaery and Loras again, only to hear her pipe up.

“Ser Hill, would you be so kind as to show my grandchildren to their rooms after they’ve seen Lady Reyne?”

“Yes, I will,” Ser Hill dismounted Torrent.

Olenna turned away then, and Robb looked to Tybalt, “Will you see Lady Caireann to her room?” He couldn’t refuse the matriarch of the Tyrells.

Tybalt gave a small smile and a nod, before he went to see to Caireann – he liked her well enough, after all. She was a sweet girl, far sweeter than his Lenore, though almost as bold as his Melara, going right up to kiss Robb farewell. “My lady,” he offered to escort her back, offered his arm, but would not force it.

As they began to disperse, Ser Hill took the reins of Torrent, “I will lead you and the horses back first, then we will go up to see Lenore.” He wasn’t at all concerned that she might be sleeping.

“Thank you, Ser!” Margaery bounded to get her horse, as well as Lady Olenna’s, to bring along to take care of. “That is a lovely gray steed you have.”

“It is a good horse.” It needed to get out and stretch some, so he had taken it over his own steed. She’d be out herself, but of course, she could not be. “This way,” he’d instruct once they looked ready to move.

~***~

Lenore managed not to laugh at Jaime’s comment of falling for a lion. Oh, yes, it would be…quite the heartbreak if Tywin ever knew. Almost enough to want to tell him, but no, she would never get the chance and she knew it. A vain dream, to crush everything Tywin loved and wanted in life – she’d have to settle for just taking his.

And to not laugh. To not enjoy that look Jaime passed her way.

Much easier to play with Yularen than with Hill.

“And we both know ghosts don’t have hearts,” Lenore sighed, shaking her head, “I must maintain the illusion and forsake those soft things.”

“You two are both weird,” Yularen decided, and Lenore did chuckle to that.

Jaime left the balcony, and Lenore was relieved, even if she still felt the heat of his gaze on her as he went to his bed, “Good night, Jaime,” she wasn’t going to retire just yet. She was far too awake for that. However, she did turn back into the room and took up her night clothes to change in the study – she should dress down. Read, and force herself to sleep. She had a history of Lys to continue through.
 
As the breeze blew against him, Willas only felt more and more exhausted. They had been riding for a long while without stopping, in hopes of sleeping on warm beds that night, and yet Margaery and Loras did not appear to be at all affected. The girl still wore her infamous smile, and his brother smirked at the knight that was to escort them to Lady Reyne. His grandmother took Robb Stark's arm and followed him closely, heavy steps resonating against the pavement with the sound of his cane hitting the stone.

He did not bother to speak when the woman showed her apparent disapproval to his behaviour; he had spoken to the King first, so there was no reason to introduce himself. Frankly, he did not wish to speak anymore that night, and instead resorted to maintaining his silence until he reached shelter. Still, his eyes wandered from a figure to the other, and almost always rested on Caireann Lannister for longer, lingering, before averting them again. She did not return the glances and stepped drowsily, alone, wrapped up in the thin fur blanket.

Her solitude was not kept for too long though, for a silhouette approached, which Caireann recognised in the darkness as Lord Tybalt approached and offered his arm. There was a kind simper on his lips, mellow almost, and as much as she wished for Robb to have come to her, it was clear he had sent the Lord to escort her to her quarters. A quiet dismissal; she had no place there, and Willas Tyrell whom she had been brought for did not pay any attention to her. Truthfully, she was glad to return to her room and be exempted from having to watch Margaery twirl before Robb's eyes.

A tease, that he seemed to so easily fall for, and envy burnt through her like Wildfire.

Her arm wrapped around Lord Hetherspoon's, and she pressed her cheek to it, shifting her weight onto him. The girl felt safe there, beneath the warm furs and shielded by her escort, but she did not speak; only followed silently and watched her steps on the paved alleyway that lead to the castle.

~***~

Loras moved slowly beneath the heavy armour, but he kept his back straight and his lips curled into a smirk. The knight - a bastard lion, by the name - looked nothing less like a Lannister, features just as golden in the dim light of the moon. He was close to his Lady, for he spoke about her by her first name and did not appear to be at all fazed by the thought of disturbing her at such a late hour in the nigh, even though he doubted she would be sleeping through all the noise.

"Where are you from, Ser Hill?" Loras found himself asking as he took his own horse by the harness to lead it towards the stables. "Born in the South... But you have the build of a Northener." He was taller than most, and broader of shoulders than other lions. His features almost reminded him of the fighters and warriors from Highgarden. Nevertheless, he was a sight to look at in his relative exoticism. Older than what he had admired before, but still appealing.

And such a long road without diversity had been boring. Ever since Lady Stark's visit, Margaery had only been blabbering about the King in the North, and Willas always found a reason to mention Caireann Lannister. He would ask the Lady questions, to which she answered with a nearly irritated tone, by which he judged the woman did not particularly enjoy her. She appeared sweet, though, even in her exhaustion... Like his sister, but without the overwhelming excitement.

~***~

"Good night."

Jaime spoke, but he did not remember speaking. With his eyes closed, his mind wandered again to thoughts of her, as her voice still echoed in his ears. Throughout the day, he had only been torturing himself with his worries and anxieties, that now he felt as though he had just fought a battle. The warmth of the sheets was soothing almost, but a flicker of pain shot through his leg each time he exhaled, from having applied too much pressure on it.

He jerked awake then, with the nicker of a horse in the distance outside, and sounds of steps on the hallway. He shifted to the other side of the bed to face Lenore and opened his eyes to glance at her through heavy lids, before closing them once again. "Fuss," he groaned under his breath. "It's going to be a long night, isn't it?" He was fatigued, but the growing sounds kept him from falling asleep.

He presumed it would be like this for a while. The Tyrells were many, and each of them louder than the other. Jaime wouldn't be attending the feasts by their side, but Caireann would, and she would be just as irritated, he knew. She loved feasts, but he had a feeling she would return seeking to hide in Lenore's arms in no time. At the very least he got to see her, even if she never came for him.
 
Tybalt Hetherspoon accepted the weight of the young girl, the way he had done so many times with his own daughters when they were world-weary and bone-tired. He did not press her for conversation; it was not his way to impose much. He kept a slow pace to allow her to walk without thinking much, although as they came into the once-home of Stafford Lannister, he did have to speak.

“I do not quite know the way to your room, my lady,” he said then, keeping his voice soft. Ser Hill was the one who knew it flawlessly, but Tybalt had not paid her a visit to know where it was.

He only saw her when she was out from it. He would let her show him the way then, with words or gestures, and continue on towards it once she had given the direction. ‘Hill, I hope you know what you’re doing….’ He could have refused Olenna’s request for the night. Robb could have refused her, as well, or taken Caireann to her room first before showing Olenna to hers.

The King tried to do too much, all at once, sometimes. Tybalt felt sympathy for him who thought it was his duty to be king. For many, who wanted to rise above. It just seemed a hassle. Tybalt didn’t have such illusions despite where he stood in the war. That wasn’t for him.

~***~

Margaery kept a giggle to herself as Loras questioned their new guide. Kept her words to herself, too, for the moment, though she’d certainly pester him about it later. This one looked nothing like Renly, at least, so that was a good sign. Renly was too soft, too gentle – a good man, a man who should have been king, but never would be now.

“I’m from here – Lannisport,” he answered the question, “My mother wasn’t of the North,” at least so far as she told him, she was also of the West, though she played at being exotic like so many others in the brothels. For all he knew, though, she was of the North. He hadn’t ever met her parents or his extended family.

Not on either side.

They came to the stables, and Ser Hill was quick to remove the tack from Torrent and offer the horse a quick brush-down. He didn’t seem to need to assist Margaery, doubted he would need to assist Loras, and so he would wait until they had finished. He didn’t have questions for them – was honestly surprised they bothered to have questions for him.

Most didn’t care much for a bastard’s words. Especially not new faces; they brushed him off easily, and he played his role of loyal knight well to not need any questioning. “Was it hard – attacking your home?” Margaery asked.

“No,” he shook his head.

“I would find it to be…even if it were to liberate it. There’s always the risk of innocents dying.”

“My home has been the Fern Valley for many years,” in service to House Hetherspoon, before it changed. It wouldn’t be hard to strike there, though. Or he told himself that.

It would be for Tybalt. For Lenore.

~***~

Olenna walked alongside Robb into the castle of Stafford Lannister, glancing over the familiar structures, “I’m not in one of the towers, am I?” She didn’t want to have to move down and up so many steps.

“No, Lady Olenna,” He shook his head. “You are on the base floor,” he had thought of that, knew her age. He had found a good room on the base floor for her – apparently the one meant for Lenore, that she never used. All of her things had already been moved out of it to keep her company in her confinement.

Olenna smiled a bit, “Already thought of it, didn’t you? Frail old woman, shouldn’t have to deal with stairs?” She was curious how long he could play cordial. “Why is Lady Reyne confined?” She hadn’t asked earlier, but would ask now, to spare his pride.

“Lady Reyne took it upon herself to execute one of my prisoners, Lord Karstark.”

“Northern name…,” she murmured, and Robb only nodded his consent. Things here might not be stable after all if there was dissent in the ranks. Willas would certainly hear of it. She’d get the rest of the story from Lenore – why she cared enough to kill a prisoner. “Well I hope you don’t plan to keep Tywin Lannister prisoner. I think she’d execute him as well.” Doubted a confinement really taught her any lessons, but she’d see.

She might turn out to be a weak and timid thing used by the others.

“Here it is,” Robb spoke then, reaching the door to her room, “I’ll see that your things are brought to you here, Lady Olenna. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Olenna thought to make an outrageous demand, but decided he’d actually probably try to grant it before he dared look rude. So she just smirked and shook her head, “No, no, I tire of this,” of yes-men and the day. She needed her sleep as much as Catelyn, needed her mind sharp for tomorrow, when they truly got down to business.

~***~

“If you need something to help you sleep…,” Lenore left the offer open-ended. She wouldn’t take anything herself when she tried to sleep. She’d probably end up burying her head under a pillow and still get no sleep, but not everyone was as stubborn as her.

Or as immune to the dosages as her. The worry was more how much she’d need to take in order to have it put her to sleep, and if that would in turn end up also a fatal dose. She stopped playing with some of her poisons a while ago when she far exceeded the dosages.

Perhaps she was completely immune.

It wasn’t the time to find out. No one would ever think to use that much poison just to kill her. She’d notice. “I might need something in the morning,” Yularen mumbled. He couldn’t sleep while on duty, but trying to sleep when everyone woke up and was excited about the day? The thought was not pleasant.
 
The corridors were now reverberating with muffled voices as Caireann paced through slowly, leaning against Lord Tybalt's arm. He offered good support and much needed silence, although he did find himself in need to speak once they reached the castle, to ask for directions. She did not speak, but guided him with gently nudges; there was a heavy knot in her chest that that pained her when she talked.

They found the path to her room easily, where Thom still guarded, but the girl did not wish to break just yet. Her arms wrapped around his middle to seize him into a tight embrace, lingering there for a brief moment, before breaking away. "Thank you for keeping me company, Lord Hetherspoon," trembling voice, but firm and honest. The blanket around her shoulders had slipped slightly, allowing for the cold current to brush against her tender skin. "I will see you tomorrow."

Mere formality. There were not many chances of her joining them for breakfast the following days, after Lord Vikary's outburst. Many others were bound to happen, if they hadn't yet, and Robb had simply hidden them from her. In truth, she feared seeing Margaery near Robb again; her intentions were more than clear. Her grandmother was the Queen of Thorns, after all.

And Caireann would step to leave then, face shadowed by a deeper frown. Her cheeks were burning, from either languor or worry, but she no longer felt the need to rest. She would sit by the fire and try to occupy her mind with watching the flames dance in the hearth and listen to the waves crush against the bluff outside the castle. Anything to keep her thoughts away from him...

~***~

The bastard lion did not belong to the North; instead, his home was here, but he still did not appear to fit. Loras listened attentively to the brief conversation between him and Margaery and tried to imagine why he had left his home at all. He would have been safe, away from this war, but alone and that, he understood. Humans were not made to live in solitude.

This one, however, was made to be admired. His eyes still peeked at him and he did not put much effort into softening his smirk. "You have been trained by Lords, haven't you?" Otherwise he wouldn't have been there, serving a Lady with such a nonchalant and arrogant attitude. "I would like to see you spar one day... Maybe I could show you my skills with the sword, as well..."

A wink, followed by a simper, and Loras turned to remove the accessories on his own steed. He knew the look Margaery was giving him, but chose to ignore it with pride. She could play all she wished with Robb Stark... Bastards were something else. He wouldn't have to pay dearly for them. Kings were rather difficult to obtain through a few smiles and deep courtsies.

"We should go," the knight said once the saddle was removed with the rest of the tack. "I am quite eager to meet Lady Reyne," the Ghost, as she was called, for she was not meant to be alive, and yet breathed and lead like a ruler.

~***~

"No sweetsleep," Jaime stated it almost immediately following Lenore's question. After the battle, the woman had given him too much, to keep him dazed and drugged through the pain, although he suspected the true reason was fear. Otherwise, she wouldn't have had him tied to a bed by all joints with the roughest ropes she could find. In those days, he often found himself wishing for chains.

Though, staying awake all night would be a nightmare, especially that the Hetherspoon boy was there. Jaime didn't mind spending time alone with the Reyne, considering what they truly did during that quality time, butwith the boy there he had to keep his mouth shut and his legs closed. He knew his mind wouldn't allow for a proper sleep either.

Too much to worry about. Too many anxieties, and they awakened just then, when his body lusted for rest.

He chose to sit up again and lean against the headboard. As the voices near their room were rising, he could distinguish the high notes of the Highgarden flowers. 'There... No. Not there, on the carpet...' and 'Will there be a feast? I do love feasts.' "After such a long road, one would have expected them to go straight to sleep." He didn't want to think how the hosts had to wander around the castle to check on every one of their guests.
 
Lord Tybalt held the young woman with a firm but light embrace, hiding his lack of smile at her sorrows in it, knowing he would need to smile when they parted. He rubbed his hand lightly over her upper back. "You may see me whenever you like, my lady," he told her. "I am not as terribly busy as some of the others." And he did not mind her.

He did not release her until she indicated she wanted to move away. He never let go first, a lesson learned with his daughters. Never make them feel unwanted. Lenore rarely wanted, but Melara always had. Melara in short bursts, but when the kitten came to him, he knew it might last a while before she nudged him away.

Two different girls but both so bold. Caireann was different than them as well.

"Take care of yourself, my lady. Good night," he inclined his head to her and would leave when he saw her safety through the door to retire to his own quarters.

~***~

The Young King was free of the Roses after directing the ones with Olenna's luggage to her chambers. Then he made his way back to Caireann's quarters, hoping that she would be there now, that Tybalt had gotten her there safe and sound. He didn't run across Tybalt on the way there.

When he arrived, though, Thom gave him a quiet nod before he could ask. Robb smiled and stepped forward as Thom stepped aside to let him in. He knocked lightly on the door, afraid to startle her if she had gone to bed already. He would open the door then to enter, and close it lightly behind himself.

She was besides the fire, and he smiled to her, the shadows making her expression difficult to read. "I am sorry for sending you with Tybalt. I should have expected Lady Tyrell to want me to escort her and planned better," but he had not done so.

He would move to join her at the fire. He was happy - despite Olenna's prying he was hopeful. Their numbers were large...he wanted this alliance.

~***~

'What.' Adryan didn't double take. He saw the wink. Heard the innuendo. 'Seven hells.' Loras thought he was gay or was trying to convince him it would interest him. Ser Hill wasn't sure if he ought to be more flattered or annoyed. He leaned to annoyed. Lymond and Jaime would never let this go. Lady Hill jokes for days.

Still, "I haven't had a good spar in a while. If this alliance goes through we could find some time." And when he laid Loras out, the Knight of Flowers might realize his lack of interest in the lack of play.

He hoped.

Ignored the smile Margaery gave to Loras. Pity a pretty girl like her couldn't be interested.

He led on then to take them to the Ghost's tower with her golden prisoner and young knight.

~***~

Lenore thought to mention sweetsleep was not all she had but did not. Jaime refused. "At least you don't have a busy day." He could sleep all day. Not that it would be any quieter. It wasn't going to be quiet for a while.

And if Dorne joined them...it must be a rule that people were louder the further south they lived.

Steps were heard then, familiar and strange. Lenore perked, confused. Hill shouldn't be there at this hour. Yularen looked confused as well and stood up, going to the door as there was a knock on it. He opened it to see Ser Hill there with two others.

"Lady Margaery and Ser Loras to see Lady Reyne."

"At this hour?" Yularen's nose wrinkled, further confused.

"If she is not awake we can return in the morning. Our grandmother-,"

Lenore heard the words and interrupted, "Let them in." She wasn't thrilled. She had dressed down for the evening and the thought of seeing the Tyrells like this was hardly pleasant, but she wasn't going to let those insecurities and pride bother her.

Yularen stepped back and Ser Hill led in, to find Lenore calmly poised, standing to greet them. She inclined her head slightly to both as Margaery smiled, surprised at how young Lenore looked...but before she spoke, she noticed the other, and her words turned gasp unintentionally. Lenore smirked, "He was wounded. I am simply making sure he keeps his health. He won't hurt you, lady Margaery."

"I did not know." Lenore wanted to shoot Hill so many looks for this, but refrained. "Do forgive our unannounced intrusion, Lady Reyne. Our grandmother was hoping to see you this evening."

The leading statement was not given an answer.
 
Caireann's eyes followed the quick jolts of the flames in the hearth, thightening the ermine around her body. The fire was slowly growing in its intensity, but it did not make the room any warmer for her. She waited in silence, lips parted so she could breathe to calm the knot in her chest and throat. It was difficult not to think of what she had seen, of how pretty Lady Margaery truly was, even after her long travels. Her hair had maintained its perfect curl, and her dress did not have a single stain on it. The moonlight had only made her appear more beautiful... Robb had seen that, as well.

The last time she had worn a revealing dress for him, his eyes hadn't lingered much. With her body covered, he seemed to feel much better, and it worried her. More now, that she thought she was not appealing enough for him. She did not have chocolate locks, untouched skin and a petite frame... Her hair was almost always dishevelled, her skin was speckled and her frame was rather curvy. She did have a bigger bust, though, but failed to highlight it the way she did.

Her fingers sought to brush through her curls then, braiding them thoughtfully, but her eyes did not leave the hearth. Deepened in her brooding, she began humming to herself, and the more she sang the brighter the flames burnt. Her voice covered the light knock and the sound of steps, but stopped briefly when she felt a presence in the room. Robb drew closer to her, smiling happily, and sat down on one of the pillows by her side. He spoke, but she did not answer. It was merely his duty to escort his guests.

She began humming again, quieter now, and closed her eyes to try and remember the lyrics for the song he had once sung to her as they danced. When she opened them again, Caireann shifted her gaze to him, lips pursed then and brows lifted above her darkened eyes. It should have been a happy moment for both of them, but she couldn't brush away the thought of what she had seen that evening.

Instead, she rose to curl up on the couch, between thicker blankets and soft pillows. "Sleep," she told him, for she would watch him until morning. There was no intention on her mind to goin him for breakfast. She was a prisoner, after all, even if he loved her as much as he said he did. There was no such thing as love in war when it came to an alliance, and he out to make a good impression in front of them all if he wanted to build a strong relationship with the families. Enough men, enough forces to take down Tywin – it was what he had been wanting for so long, and what he deserved.

Victory.

~***~

The thought of a spar lingered on Loras mind all the way to Lady Reyne's quarters. Though they walked mostly in silence, he tried to steal a few glances from the golden bastard. Knights, both of them; bright and perhaps strong, by the look of it. They made an interesting fit, and even though he appeared to be several years older than him. It was a challenge he was willing to take, if offered so easily on a plate. He didn't seem to be bothered by it at all...

At the door, they were greeted by a young knight with features similar to his. The Ghost was younger than expected, though perhaps it was the dim lighting and the way she was dressed. He dd not mind her attire, but she did not look at all pleased with the late visit, even if she had obviously been awake. Margaery was the one to speak when they tried to step inside, and Loras' eyes landed on the figure that sat on the bed by Lady Reyne's. Another lion.

Loras had seen Jaime Lannister before, but he was hardly recognisable in his current state, rugged and darker, as though he had lost his golden glow. The man had grown a messy stubble, and his eyes seemed almost wild, deeper set. There were crutches propped against the wall by his bed, and his left leg was wrapped in gauze up to his knee. A fracture, if anything, and it seemed to have put him down. This was not what Kingslayers looked like.

"Forgive us, My Lady," he spoke once he broke out of his trance. Stepping forward, he inclined his head and offered to take her hand. "My sister and I are honoured to meet you, and we are deeply sorry to disturb you at such a late hour..." The old formality, which he had almost lost during his travels, but now it came quite easily. "Our grandmother, Lady Olenna, was too fatigued to come to visit you tonight."

And so, he would let Margaery ask if the Lady agreed to join them for elevenses the following day. She was better with words, after all, and frankly, he did not enjoy the look Jaime Lannister was giving him at all.

The man waited. Inclined his head to salute them, "Lady Margaery, Ser Loras," and pursed his lips. He had not gotten the chance to speak, and their intrusion had indeed disturbed him. Though the pair were a sight to look at; Margaery reminded her of Caireann, with her youthful glow and sweet smile. Loras was simply a wider Yularen, or perhaps it was the armour that made him look that way. Still, the boy was too pretty to be a fearsome knight. Far too pretty. He did not wish to imagine him battling a brute like Vikary.
 
Caireann hummed. It took a moment for Robb to recognize the melody and when he did, he wanted to sing along but she stopped before he could part his lips to do so. She rose too hastily, still without a word to him. He followed with his eyes and rose, turned his body but did not immediately follow after her.

Sleep?

She sat on the couch, not the bed. Robb looked at Caireann, trying to read her hazel eyes in the dancing lights. He didn't go to the bed but to her. He did not sit at her side but took a knee in front of her, only a little lower than her. His gaze was imploring. He had missed something.

"What is wrong, Caireann?" He assumed nothing. He could assume wrong and then make matters worse. He did need to know, though, why she wasn't joining him.

~***~

Pretty words and pretty faces. The Tyrells were the roses hiding thorns, as perfect Lady and Knight. Lenore knew the steps and let Ser Loras play his role, let him take her hand and get things on track after Margaery stumbled.

The Queen of Thorns would want to see her.

Jaime greeted them and the tension was almost amusing, but Margaery still greeted him with one of her beatific smiled. "Ser Jaime," she said, "I will pray for your health," a glance back to Lenore, "and if there are ever any supplies you are in need of, please do not hesitate to ask."

Lenore only offered a nod. She didn't want to get far in debt to them. "If you are available tomorrow, perhaps our grandmother could come to see you for elevenses?" Neither too early or late. Not formal. Olenna's preferred time. "If you are too busy, we can of course arrange a better time."

Lenore shook her head. "No, it sounds perfect," smiled slightly. "Thank you for honoring her request to come and see me. It would be my pleasure to meet Lady Tyrell. Please let her know that I will be happy to receive her."

Jaime was going to have to leave beyond the study. Mental note.

"Thank you," Margaery stepped forward then to take Lenore's hand in both of hers, offering it a squeeze as Lenore tried not to pull back. "She will be pleased to hear it," softened a bit, "And I am glad to have met you. I hope soon to know you better, if we are to be allies."

"I expect we will have plenty of time," Lenore agreed. They would be interesting to know. "Ser Loras, a pleasure to meet you as well. I hope that you will both find Lannisport to your liking."
 
Robb did not head to bed, in spite of his apparent exhaustion; instead, he drew closer and kneeled before her, eyes seeking the reason behind her sorrow. She had been too obvious, and as much as she had tried to hide it in front of him. Still, Caireann couldn't find the strength to break her worries in front of him again, when he seemed so happy and content.

Jealousy hurt. It burnt through her, altered her thoughts and muddled her mind. It was in that moment that she realised the end to all things was doubt. She couldn't let it ruin that smile of his she loved to see, even if it meant forsaking her own. It was what she ought to do in the end, if she loved him - to give him her trust and appreciation, regardless of his slips.

And if it hadn't been a slip...

"You have a long day ahead of you," Caireann murmured, avoiding the concrete answer to his concerned inquiry. "Rest," and she would let a hand graze over his cheek, resting her thumb on the corner of his lips. She still had no intention to sleep right then, and would watch over him if he chose to do so. The bed belonged to him; she wouldn't disturb him if tiredness did catch up to her later at night. The couch was large and comfortable enough.

The girl forced a simper then, but it didn't last for too long. Her eyes lowered to where her hand rested, before moving it away to place it on her lap. The warmth of the fire still caressed her skin there, and the furs soothingly brushed against the flesh. It did not compare to his embrace, but it was enough to keep her snug for the rest of the night.

~***~

'Gods do not hear us. If they did, I would not be in this position.'

Jaime let out a long breath and straightened his back. There was truly no point in trying to sleep that night, so he could, as well, try to keep his mind awake and busy. "Thank you for your kindness, Lady Margaery... Much appreciated," though had been merely formal. The girl was as frightened of him as a hen.

She offered Lenore Reyne a meeting thefollowing morning, and the woman agreed to it with a false cordiality. Nevertheless, Loras was pleased that they did not have to spend more time trying to convince her of the necessity of said meeting. He despised failing his grandmother; the woman was not particularly known for her patience. Willas was the humble one in their family.

"Thank you, Lady Reyne," a smile tinted the young knight's lips then, and would be maintained until she dropped her own. His cheeks already hurt. "And I am sure we will. I have heard it is a delightful city... Exotic, as any other port." There were plenty of things to see... Plenty of experiences to try. He was convinced he would taste at least half of what it had to offer.

He would turn around to leave them, after wishing her, Ser Jaime and Yularen a good night. He offered his arm for Margaery to take, but his muscles were already trembling in exhaustion. There was no regret in having worn the armour that day, although he could have adorned it before their arrival. He presumed he would sleep well that night, if the quarters were to his liking. Stafford's castle seemed to be quite... dull.
 
Robb wanted to be reassured by her words, but he could not be. She would join him at night, usually. He would not force her to, of course. Would not ask her to. She did not answer his question, and he wondered if he ought to try and press for more, or leave it. Some people needed space, but Caireann had not seemed the sort. She seemed to resent him earlier, when it was given.

But now…she only told him there was a long day ahead, while staying on the couch. His head tilted towards her hand, to feel more of its pressure. The searching look became hopeless, and he lowered his eyes in defeat.

She could not say he hadn’t tried. She could not say he was not interested in her well-being. He just did not know how to proceed. “All right,” he allowed, and lifted himself back up to his feet. He wanted to reach out to her again, when her touch broke, to reassure himself, but as his hand moved to brush her hair, her cheek, it stilled midway.

Then, it fell back to his side, and he went to the bed, only to hesitate and turn away. “Good night, Caireann.” He could not sleep there without her. This was her room, her bed. She did not want to share with him, so he would not intrude on her space. He went to the door and opened it, bid a good night to Thom, and trekked back to the room that was still his.

It was colder there, the fire hadn’t been stoked or kept up, but he wasn’t cold for long under the furs. Grey Wind jumped up to join him, and soon enough, Robb slipped off to sleep. Slipped into Grey Wind, and wandered, until the morning came, and he sniffed out where Catelyn was before he returned to himself, woke himself up.

He would see Caireann later, but now, he had to see his mother – after everything that had happened, and what she saw last night, he needed to try and explain things. Assuming it was all…as he thought it was. Hoped it was.

He dressed, feeling the sting of the cold morning in the silence of it. It bothered him more than he thought it would. Outside was noisy with the new guests. He tuned it out, wondered when he would need to meet with them that day. He knew he had to, wanted to, to begin the discussions, but he was also aware they had traveled quite a while and would want to get a bit settled. ‘And will it be Olenna? Willas?’ Both?

Well…he needed to be briefed on all of that by Catelyn, as well.

Once he was dressed and as prepared as he could be, he left his room and went to find his mother’s room, knocking upon the door when he reached it.

~***~

Margaery took the arm, and when both had turned their back, Lenore and Adryan shared a single look that said enough for the both of them – they weren’t enthused about the Tyrells. He followed them out, and Lenore let them leave. As soon as they were gone, the smile vanished and exhaustion seeped back in. “What’s wrong?” Yularen asked.

“They’re going to get on my nerves more than the Northerners.” She answered, moving the book off her bed to put it on the nightstand.

“They seemed polite enough to me.”

“Seemed,” Lenore reiterated. “They aren’t.” Roses with thorns. “I’m sure they’re good people,” shifted under the covers, “but this…fake politeness is going to get on my nerves.” Fake smiles. Fake understanding. Honeyed words promising whatever was desired or needed. “I hope Olenna’s a bitch.” She dealt with thorns better. No, she was not made for soft things…she would break them.

She let herself try to sleep on that thought, though it was fretful and easily disturbed until the dawn came, and with it, Ser Hill, who looked more exhausted than before. Lenore didn’t send Yularen away, though he wanted to. The reasoning was simple – Ser Hill was taking Jaime out when Olenna showed up, and so Yularen had to stand guard outside the door because of her confinement.

Water was drawn for a bath for her, and Jaime would be allowed its use as well. Though Lenore put quite a bit of effort into trying to look decent and have the room look like it could pass for a meeting space as well, when all was in place, it almost looked effortless. The attire was made to match the pin that Caireann had gotten for her, and she did put her hair up with it.

It was pretty.

And if there was going to be a feast for this alliance…then she wasn’t going to wear her favorite dress yet.

“Why do we have to go somewhere? Can’t we just stay in the study?” Ser Hill complained. He was tired.

“Don’t you want to go see that pretty knight again? Loras?”

“No,” he crossed his arms, “He wants to spar.”

“Good. Show him up.”

He was about to add a comment that he was too tired for it, but Loras wouldn’t be in any better condition and even if he was…Hill still had a Lannister’s pride. So he just rolled his eyes, and turned to the door as he heard steps there. “Don’t worry, Jaime. I don’t feel like doing much.” He figured Jaime wasn’t in any condition to go on a long stroll through the market.
 
At the break of dawn, Catelyn was already wide awake. She did linger in her bed for a while, to take in the light as she waited for her mind to be cleared. She thought of Robb, of the Tyrells, of the council that knocked on the door. It was expected of them to wish to rest that day and get settled, but the meeting couldn't be postponed for too long. Tywin Lannister wouldn't wait for them, and if they struck quickly enough, they might find Casterly unprotected, allowing for a quick victory.

She rose with that thought in mind and ran a bath for herself to wash her body of the dirt from the long road. The heat numbed her, but the sensation was soothing; she had missed it, even if she had never felt at home at Lannisport. The West unrested her, it was the land of the enemy, not a place for the North. She should have felt relieved in the presence of the Tyrells, safe, but she couldn't overlook the threats. They ate at her each day, and each day she found herself missing home more and more.

They should never have left Winterfell. She should never have told Ned to leave.

When Cat stepped out of the bath, she heard the sound of heavy footstep outside the door, and knew it was likely Robb. "Come in." Sitting down at the desk in front of the mirror, she began brushing through her dampened locks and pursed her lips as he entered. She did not turn her head just yet, but peeked at his reflection and sighed at the sight of his visible tiredness. There was worry in his eyes, pain almost, and she tried to steel herself for what she was to hear.

Then, she sat up, place the brush on the desk and wrapped her arms around her boy's shoulders, pulling him into a hearty embrace. "Tell me everything," Cat demanded softly, not letting go until he did. He had grown, she felt, widened and matured in those days. There was something different about him, but she chose to ignore the change and focus on his words once he started talking. There was fear in her bones, anxiety over Maege Mormont's words from the night before.

'Gods be kind, and may the news be good...'

~***~

The breeze brushed the locks of hair from her temples, tingled her cheeks and danced on her nose. Caireann woke up in the warmth of a thick blanket, curled up on the couch and facing the fire that had died out. She had fallen asleep at the break of dawn and woken up now; it was late, judging by the bright light outside, or at least later than when she would have normally woken up. The past night had been too long.

The door opened with a groan and the girl rose to see Mina, stepping in with a tray filled with food. "Lord Stark?" she murmured, but with a quick glance around the room she made out most of what had happened. The woman set the tray on the table and hurried to light the fire and arrange the pillows and chairs around the hearth. "You ought to eat today, m'Lady," she spoke. "The pancakes are a wonder... The cooks have worked hard to prepare them for our guests..."

"Have you been to the Great Hall?" Caireann sat up on the edge of the couch to stretch.

Mina nodded with a smile. "The Tyrells are enchanting. They spoke about you, I heard... Lord Willas."

"About me?"

"Only to ask where you were. I thought you would be attending it with His Grace."

'No, he did not wish to stay with me.' In truth, she would have preferred him to sleep in her room, for she found herself missing him already. She did not answer her though, and instead asked to have a bath ran for her, to which Mina did not hesitate before obeying. She washed herself quickly and braided her hair to dry it in curls, before choosing her attire for that day. She ought to look at least presentable, not necessarily for the guests she might not see, but for Robb.

A dress was set for her on the bed, the rose gown adorned with golden trimmings that settled off the shoulder. "This one," Mina smiled, and Caireann put it on without protesting. She did look pretty in that one, and wanted to keep the crimson dress for a possible feast.

Once her hair dried, she brushed it and let it fall over her shoulders, took the tray of pancakes and syrup in her hands and followed the path that lead to Lord Hetherspoon's own quarters, guided by her guard. He must have already eaten breakfast, but an extra sweet never hurt anyone, and frankly, she needed a friendly face to keep her company that morning, until Robb returned. It would take a while – that, if he came back at all that day, considering it was his duty to tend to his guests... And she must have upset him, as well. She tried not to think about it much, and when she reached the door, she put on a kind smile and knocked lightly.

~***~

After washing himself and brushing his hair, Jaime felt slightly better about that day. That was until he retured, for he caught a glimpse of the conversation between Hill and Lenore, and immediately remembered Olenna Tyrell would have to come for elevenses. He hadn't realised he would be required to leave them for privacy, and in truth, spending a day with Hill did not seem as exciting. His leg barely allowed for basic movement around the room... A walk outside would be a pain.

But it was not what was on their mind, and when he heard Loras' name his lips quirked up into a smile. "The knight, eh?" he chuckled as he ran the towel through his dampened hair. "I must say I am offended. "I thought you were loyal to me, Lady Hill!" Loras Tyrell was rumoured to have... different sexual interests, after all. He doubted the bastard was not aware of it; the castle would soon be raving with it by the end of the day.

He did want to spar as well though, and it would be irritating to watch them from a seat. Still, he might be able to pick up on some moves; he had been curious of Hill's skills for quite some time now.

After dressing up in a pair of leather trousers and clean shirt, he sat on the endge of the bed and looked up at him. "Whenever you're ready... Thought you might want to put some armour on. I heard the boy is quite skilled," a tease; he knew Hill was probably better at swordfighting than him. Experience came with age, which he did not have. By the looks of it, he was of the same age as Caireann, if not younger. "If he beats your arse, I want to see."
 
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Robb was glad for the embrace when he entered, finding his mother had only woken a little while ago, her hair still damp. He returned it, closing his eyes for a few seconds as he held her, before he let out a deep breath at her request. Yes, he had to talk, and it seemed she didn’t want to let him go for it.

“When you left, Lord Karstark tried to kill Caireann,” he began, thinking it best to begin at the start of this mess. “We had him arrested quickly,” naturally, “the council and I elected to show him mercy and send him to the Wall.” It was not what Ned would have done. He needed to remember that in the future.

Mercy was good.

But it was not the way they did things in the North. He had to honor his heritage. “Lady Reyne returned before he could be sent off…and executed him.” The next part of this cluster of events that brought them here. “There was no desire to break the alliance on any side, so I have had her confined until the end of a week, and she is barred from the council,” though she had influence still. He saw her weaving it through her men.

“Tywin wrote as well to demand us to surrender and to demand Jaime for my sisters,” her daughters, “I have refused him,” as he could only do. He did not have Jaime. Even if he did, he could not trade him.

Now the harder part. “Caireann and I…,” how to explain it? “I intend to marry her,” he kept it short, like everything else. State his intentions. His mother didn’t need those kinds of lurid details. No doubt she’d have several questions on it, once she pushed him away to ask if he was mad.

~***~

Lord Tybalt Hetherspoon was fortunately in his quarters. He had thought to set off to check in with his own soldiers. Yularen would, usually – he was learning the ropes of leading, after all, but his nightshift job had him quite worn out. He hadn’t learned how to adjust too well just yet. Soon enough he would get it down. He needed to, he was taking Ser Clifton’s place, after all.

He was surprised to hear a knock on his door, though. He rose slowly from his desk and his musings to go to the door and open it, more surprised to find Caireann there with pancakes. He had already eaten, of course, and was not even thinking about food any longer. “My lady,” he greeted her.

He made a step aside, assuming she wanted to come in to at least sit and eat her pancakes she had brought. He wasn’t sure if he was just a trip in passing, but did not think so, “Good morning,” added to the greeting, “You look lovely today,” for she certainly did, with her hair nicely styled and the dress a pretty color.

Most were making themselves look their best that day for the Tyrell host, though. Amazing what new faces did to inspire insecurity and peacocking.

~***~

Ser Hill pointed to Lenore at Jaime’s statement of loyalty, “Not to you. Sorry to confuse you with my constant presence. It’s not for you,” he said, hand on the door. At Jaime’s further tease, he rolled his eyes, “Only an idiot gets hit,” his denial of armor. He had armor. Several pairs of it, from plate metal to leather, and he would wear it into proper battles, but when he did spar, he rarely wore it.

After all, they used blunted swords. Occasionally he would, just to remind himself of the weight of it and how it slowed him down…but he didn’t get hit very often. He was trained as a Westerosi knight, but any who knew him, knew he didn’t fight…chivalrously. He grew up in Lannisport, after all.

He learned to fight dirty in the streets, and picked up a few things from Braavosi travelers who liked to pick fights, as well. His style was mixed enough that it often kept people guessing, since he still used the Westerosi stances and style, over all. “You didn’t bother with armor in your fight with Eddard Stark.” He’d heard of it, of course – such things spread like wildfire considering Jaime fled King’s Landing after that to go join his father.

“Let’s go,” he was ready. He wanted to go down to the Vikary camp at least. He could easily spar there if he wanted to, or laze around until Yularen came to get him.

He opened the door as he heard Yularen’s voice, startling the lad who had his back to the door. He tripped back and fell onto his butt before Olenna Tyrell, who wore a wry little smile at that. “My Lady Tyrell,” Ser Hill inclined his head cordially, “We’ll be leaving you to enjoy your elevenses.”

“Thank you, Ser Hill,” she said, glancing in. Margaery had told her Jaime was staying with the Reyne. She was glad he hadn’t left yet – she wanted a good look at the Kingslayer.
 
As her son began to speak, all Catelyn could do was to listen. She eventually removed herself from his embrace to hold his hand and look him in the eye, although what she heard did require a seat. He spoke quickly and sincerely, without much consideration, of how Rickard Karstark had tried to kill Lady Lannister... Of his sentence and the way it was not followed to an end.

There was not a doubt that he would be lying to her, though it pained her to hear it all. The turmoil of news came rapidly and she struggled to filter them one by one. "And you have lost his army," she presumed, voice firm and face untouched. She could not allow herself to show emotions in front of him; he had done the right things after all. Mercy would have been the proper way to proceed, even if it was not the way in the North.

Then followed the heavy tidings, and Cat's stomach dropped. She did step back then, and pulled him along with her to sit on a chair, his hand still in hers. A broken vow, for the sake of a girl. Robb was abjuring honour for honour, and thought it was the right thing to do. She wanted to ask him whether he did it out of love or duty, but her lips did not part just yet. Instead, her eyes averted to the ground as she tried to shape her words.

When they reached his again, they were full of grief. "You have made a promise to House Frey, Robb," she lowered her voice then, trembling. "You cannot play with such things... Walder Frey is not a man to forgive easily," if at all. He would lose a large portion of his army if he broke this arrangement, men whom could make an immense difference, especially now, in the absence of another six thousand. Regardless if the Tyrells joined them or not.

"You want to marry an enemy... An alliance which would only bring you sorrow." They might love eachother now, but the future was dark and perilous. Too much could happen, too abruptly.

~***~

Caireann was greeted with the familiar warmth, and the smile on her lips only spread wider. "My Lord," she flushed at the sudden compliment, "you are too kind." Robb never noticed when she dressed herself up for him, though the man must have thought the attire was worn to greet the newcomers. She did step in, with the tray of pancakes in her arms, and sat on the edge of the bed to set it by her side.

"I have brought you pancakes, if you haven't eaten..." she spoke sweetly and looked up at him with hope glistening in her eyes. "I wanted to thank you for escorting me last night, even if you might have had other duties to tend to." She knew it had been Robb the one to command it, but wouldn't mention it. She still appreciated the way he had respected her state that evening.

The girl jolted then, and sat up, "Forgive me," she quickly said. "I did not ask for permission to sit." Lord Tybalt had been kind to let her in, but never said she could stay. She only hoped she was not disturbing him from his tasks and occupations, though it seemed that mornings were rather leisurely; it was in the evenings that the councils and events took place.

~***~

It was clear that Hill would refuse to wear armor. He might be a bastard, but he was still a lion, and a lion's pride was greater than his wish to live. They would use blunted swords, but there was still the risk of injury, and it would be more than physical pain the knight would suffer if he were put to the ground by the Daisy. "As you wish. Die by your own hand."

Another moment of tease, before he could be interrupted by the sudden appearance of Yularen. The boy must have been leaning against the door, for he fell to the floor to reveal the somptuous figure of the Queen of Thorns. Jaime sat up then, one hand propping himself in his crutches, to incline his head. "Lady Tyrell." The words of salute were almost hissed, but he maintained his respectful tone.

Jaime leaned against the crutches and made his way around the bed towards the door. Hill was the first one to exit, and he followed slowly, gaze focused on the woman that was fixating him so attentively. To her, he must have looked like some kind of rugged creature and nothing like the Kingslayer one would have expected. His broken leg would soon be as legendary as his killings.

"Have a sweet morning," he smirked at Lenore, but addressed both women. "I know for certain I will enjoy mine." Now a day with Hill appeared more interesting than eavesdropping on the Ghost and the portly Rose. The lack of sun had almost made him as pale as Lenore, and he now he did enjoy the thought he might catch a few rays if the clouds did not cover the sky completely by the time he reached the ground floor.
 
Robb was grateful that his mother only focused on the matter of Caireann. Karstark was glossed over, and with it, Lenore. Caireann and his vow were her concerns. "I know what I vowed to them and I will make it up to them." Other marriages. Gold. Land. Better trade deals or mobility, "There have to be other things that Lord Frey will want." Considering he wouldn't have this marriage.

He held his mother's gaze as her voice trembled. Her doubt showed.

He added, "I am not playing. I am thinking of the future beyond this war. You have seen his daughter...their behavior...pleasant women but not queens. Caireann has remained steadfast and loyal to me, she is developing strength through these trials, and we will have an alliance with Tyrion Lannister - I will not act without his consent." Unless Caireann wished it.

"She isn't our enemy. Jaime, Tywin, Cersei, Joffrey - they are the enemies. Caireann is innocent. When this war ends, we will need to reforge peace and strong relations with the South, too. A marriage is one way of doing it, if her father is agreeable. She is...nothing like the rest of her family."

Catelyn had to see the long term benefits rather than the momentary benefits with house Frey. "I love her."

~***~

Tybalt turned as she walked right in and made herself immediately at home. He did not know if he was that welcoming or if it was the usual Lannister entitlement at play but he did not question it nor was he particularly perturbed even if he did not go to join her right away. He tried to get a feel of the situation from a distance. "Thank you," he said to the offered food.

He wasn't hungry but one wouldn't kill him. "I will only have one; you should enjoy the rest," he indicated at he found a spare saucer plate - he had plenty of those always showing up thanks to Lenore. He slid one pancake onto it, smiling still, "you are quite all right, my lady, I am in no rush today." He lifted his eyes to her, "The young ones tend to leave us soft old codgers out of things until they have already made up their minds."

He did no stay at the bed. He always are at tables, and took it to his desk - close enough. "You may sit where you like," he didn't mind so long as no syrup got on the bed. "Why have you come to see me?" He had turned in his desk to stil see her, even if it didn't allow him to directly face her.

~***~

"Ser Jaime," Olenna returned the salute, noting he did not look as well as last she saw him, but he did not appear abused either. Too happy for a prisoner, even considering the Lannister air of arrogance. They would be leaving and Olenna made room, as did the fallen Spoon.

Knights shouldn't be so clumsy but he looked exhausted.

Ser Hill moved first, than Jaime, and Olenna caught the eye roll if the Reyne then. She was not dressed as one, in green and silver, but there could be no mistaking her. Not with the lion's eyes and mane of red. Roger's indeed. More lion than boat.

Olenna offered them no farewell and Hill didn't wait for one. The blond lion only waited for Jaime whenever he ended up too far ahead. He never spoke his frustration - had no room to. Jaime saved Lenore getting that wound. There was no complaint to voice over it. It would be too selfish.

Eventually they would make it down and out of the castle, and he would take the path to where he knew many of Lymond's camp has set up, where there was space for drills and general camp life.

He preferred it to the stuffy indoors.

~***~

Yularen shut the door behind Olenna, and the two women shared the necessary pleasantries before Olenna suggested that they have tea out on the balcony, and took Jaime's usual seat as Lenore took her own, sipping lightly at the black tea, flavored with citrus and fruits. "You might be the first not to offer me rose tea." Olenna commented.

"I would get sick of it if it was all I ever got. This blend is good for mornings." Citrus always helped to wake her up.

"And no poison." Olenna smirked, speaking confidently on that. "I like staying awake." She fixed her gaze upon Lenore then, rather than the horizon. "What are you doing here, confined like this?" She almost sounded disappointed.

"Waiting." Lenore answered. "I will be out in four days."

"For killing a prisoner. Why?"

"I have a code," simple answer. "It keeps my men in line. No Lannisters but Tywin and Kevan are to die. Lord Karstark tried to throttle the life out of Caireann. I killed him. I suppose I should have mentioned that code to Robb." Definitely.

Olenna wore an expression of doubt. "That's all?"

"All that matters. I would do the same for Cersei." As if emotions had nothing to do with it.

Olenna kept her gaze level, but the look hardened a bit. That wasn't all not all that mattered, but Lenore was crafting a reputation that had already reached her. Robb Stark was the devouring Young Wolf and Lenore Reyne was the Ghost. Dead. Heartless. She wasn't of course, but she wanted to be seen that way.

Not like Roger - a man of passion, none greater than anger and pride, ambition. So Olenna had expected more fire from Lenore, but she burned differently, like frost. No wonder she needed tea to stay warm. "Well, I know Willas is glad she's alive. They are or were engaged." She was glad. The girl seemed too fragile. "Either way - you and I have more important things to discuss. This war you have gone and got yourself in affects the stability of all of us - personal vendetta or not, and I have half a mind to call it nonsense and join Tywin and the Lannisters. Robb wages it for revenge, you do the same-,"

"Would you prefer to wait until we are defeated and the Lannisters give you reason to want revenge?" Lenore asked, "I am not one for games, Lady Tyrell. Speak bluntly."

Lenore reminded Olenna of someone and it was not Roger. Another lion who protested doing anything for feelings or opinions - who had his own family code. Well, it was no surprise. There were sayings about what happened when one fought monsters. So, she put on the tone she used with him. Firm, with a slight edge, that often reminded him to whom he was speaking. "Lady Reyne, I want to discuss the long term consequences of this war and where our support should fall. Lord Stark doesn't want the South and frankly, I don't want him as king of the South and I am not certain I want a king at all. Our choice seems to be Lord Baratheon but he will put us right to war with Lord Stark - so I don't know why we wouldn't just support him now, except my grandson despises him. So we need to prepare to handle the ascension of a ruler over our lands, or discuss breaking into Seven again. Blunt enough?"
 
With each passing moment, Catelyn wanted to cup Robb's shoulders and shake him back into reality. He painted an illusory imagery; he thought that Walder Frey was a man who would be content with some gold and a marriage. No, he wanted to be tied to the King if he was to win that war; it was why he had forsaken his own promises to the Lannisters to back them up. He was after his own interests, and a broken vow would be taken as nothing but a scalding insult.

"You think you aren't playing, Robb, but you still see this war as a game," his mother spoke and fixated his eyes with her own. "If you break this vow you will lose his trust. His men, perhaps, if he is not pleased with the offer given," which she knew he would not be. He was a dangerous man; not one to be reckoned with. Robb played with fire and took him for granted.

But he loved her.

Cat's heart ached, but she could not deny his love. In times of crisis and fear, love was what held one together. It was what gave her hope - thinking of him and her family. Of what she could do to keep them safe and make them happy when she did return home after everything was over. But what he thought he had was an illusion of affection; something which he was bound to lose one day.

It only struck her then that it might be something else. She had been gone for a long time, and so the relationship between them had flourished in her absence. "Is there a child, Robb?" the whisper barely left her lips as she sought the truth in his eyes. It could have been honour, not love. He could have lied to her, and only wished to protect Caireann's dignity by not fathering a bastard child.

~***~

Caireann was glad that Lord Tybalt did take a pancake for himself. She gave him a warm smile and cut into her own to dip into the sauce, careful not to spill it on the bed. She had enough experience from eating with Robb; she did feel his absence then, but knew he would come to see her sometime that day. At least to check if she was alright, after having left her on her own. He still did not seem to trust her entirely.

Her heart melted as he spoke of being left out. Indeed, after having sailed with him, she had not paid him any visits, nor given him the attention he deserved. Lady Reyne did not speak to him often anymore, and so the man spent his days alone, away from life of leadership and trouble - still loyal, but reserved. "I was alone," she said sincerely, "and I thought I could have breakfast with you, if I did not bother you too much."

He was pleasant company, after all.

The pancakes were as delicious as they looked, and Caireann took heart bites each time. The syrup made them even better, if possible. She hoped Robb had at least tasted them; she had taught him to enjoy sweet relishes over time. Mina still did not love them, but she did not refrain from taking small bites when offered. She always shared her food with her.

"There is something I wished to ask you, my Lord..." her voice lowered then, averting her gaze to her plate. "I presume you have spent more time around the castle than I have... What do they say about me? About... Us." He would know, for Lord Vikary had not been discreet in his protests. The whole Great Hall had heard him then, and the news spread fast in Lannisport... Too fast. She wondered if the Tyrells already knew.

~***~

Jaime followed the path down to the campside slowly, struggling to rely more on his healthy leg than on his crutches. Hill walked much faster than him, which rendered him to tire easily. By the time they had exited the castle, he was already quietly gasping for air, but did not complain in front of him. He knew he ought to grow out of this weakness if he wanted to be able to spar in the near future. It required balance and endurance.

"Ser Jaime, Ser Hill!"

The voice resonated somewhere behind them, and the Daisy popped as though from nowhere, holding his helmet under his arm. In spite of being dressed for combat, his hair had been curled and styled carefully. The smile on his face made him look as nothing more than a boy, but Jaime hoped the impression would fade once the helmet covered the too pretty complexion.

"Why so sullen?" Loras approached them and turned to Jaime first, then to Hill. "It is a wonderful day outside. I was intending to come to ask you to join me for a spar... Though it seems that you have something else to tend to." He looked the bastard up and down, the simper never leaving his face, then bit down on his lip. "Am I wrong? I could say you do look like a man who could take a good swordfight any day."

Jaime pursed his lips and struggled not to burst out laughing. He raised his brow to the bastard, grinned and shrugged. "How could you refuse such an offer?" Indeed, there was something else behind his words that the man must have caught.
 
Robb was not detoured. "What men? He gave us only passage, nothing else." Did not honor his loyalty to Hoster Tully in the least. He doubted anyone here would truly leave Robb's side because he chose to break this vow. Few liked Lord Frey. He would be offered many things in turn, anyway. Perhaps marriage into the family through another.

At the question of a child, the king shook his head. "Not...that I know of." He answered. Answer enough to let Catelyn know he had taken the girl's innocence and dishonored her. "That isn't the reason," he clarified. "She is more to me than that." He would not have lain with her if she wasn't.

He knew his mother didn't like any of this and certainly wished to talk him out of it. "I know you are not happy with this, but I am going to marry her, and we will find a way to appease lord Frey," he said. He had to be confident about this. Unwavering. Else his mother would think it a foolish whim.

She might still, but he would convince her otherwise. She would get to know Caireann better and see the good that he saw in her. Then she would accept her. "I'm sorry...I didn't plan on this."

~***~

Tybalt understood alone. He was often alone. He did not relish it like Lenore did, but he had learned to endure it. With the loss of wife and daughter he learned to take comfort in what remained. He had Lenore, Yularen, his brother and sister-in-law...he had hope.

And now company.

"You are not a bother," he gently reassured her as he ate the pancake. It was soft and sweet, but he knew that from earlier. At her further question, he sighed. The words were mixed. Most did not care.

"The majority are not concerned with your relationship, my lady. It is a curiosity, little more." Their opinions were unimportant. "Others worry what influence you will have on him, as they would worry of anyone he was interested in," smiled, "as I would worry over any man my Lenore took interest in."

Simple and normal concerns of noble families. "There is nothing outrageous going on. Nothing like Karstark." No threats to her or Robb. Annoyance. Malcontent. Worry. These were not terribly surprising.

~***~

Ser Hill managed not to audibly groan when he heard the voice of Loras. He paused to greet him, "Ser Loras," nodded, added, "I am not usually available during the day for much - I have to guard this ungrateful one." He gestured to the far too amused Lannister. Who started Lady Hill again? Jaime or Lymond? They needed punched.

"Fortunately I was heading to the Vikary's camp to find a sparring partner since he is useless." If Jaime was going to pick on him, then Hill would pick on Jaime. "If you want to, I would not mind. I can show you to the grounds." And make him taste that ground. He was a bit excited - it had been too long.

He couldn't wait for a real battle. This would do until then. "Come along, I have heard you might be a match." Heard and didn't believe, "Ser Jaime likely needs a refresher course in swordplay as well....it's been a while since he got to use his." Innuendo as well, even if he would not play with Loras that way, words were wind.

If only he knew.

~***~

"Yes," and Lenore smiled. This Rose was her favorite. Hardly sweet, but just what was needed. A level head and direct, while the men let their emotions over Caireann rule them. They could deal with it. The women would prepare to lay the foundations of the future. "We are taking out Tommen and Myrcella then. If Stannis can be spoken too, to accept Robb's division and leave the faiths in place, he can rule. If not... I prefer the Kingdoms remain as united as possible."

"Why is that? You could be Queen of the Rock." Superior to all Tywin had accomplished.

"Someone else to blame," she said dismissively. Not true, but, "You don't want the Tyrells on the throne? What if Willas wanted it."

"The only one fool enough is Margaery," she answered. "I would rather a soft and malleable one who listens to good council, but those are as rare as harlots with hearts as gold."

Lenore could not help but smirk. Blunt. "What of Daenerys Targaryen?" She asked.

"I would have to meet her. I hear she has done much on her own, but those are rumors and hearsay. Until I see it with my eyes, I won't believe them. Dragons." Possible but unlikely. "Do you truly think there is anyone worthy to sit the throne?"

"Trystane Martell is said to be good, but he is engaged to Myrcella."

"Easily broken." Dismissed as nothing. "Are you seeking Dorne's aid?"

"Yes, through the Farmans."

"Not surprising." Expected in a good way. The Farmans had pull. "We will meet Trystane. I'm sure I can talk to Margaery about it if we can convince them." Rolled her eyes. She wouldn't bring it up too early, see how things went with the Stark boy, "If not her, there's enough young and available daughters of lords we'll want in our pockets."

"And where are you in all of this?"

"Wherever Margaery goes, to advise," she sighed, long suffering and familiar. "And you, I suspect, at least want a place on the small council."

"Hand."

Olenna snorted. "No surprise. You learned a lot in that golden shadow, didn't you?"
 
Catelyn found relief in the thought that Robb had not been as imprudent, although there was no certainty that wouldn't change soon. Still, he spoke with passion and conviction, and those burnt in his heart as much as they did in his voice. He gave her no space to deny him, no chance to call him mad and try to change his mind. She had made the mistake of allowing him to fall in love, and now that he could father a bastard child, she could not disallow him that right. She wanted him to be happy, after all, even if it brought her sorrow.

"The Freys have our backs at the Twins," Cat spoke, but she was not as confident in her words. Shaking her head, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Regardless... I truly hope you are making the right choice. I will pray for your strength in this war." It pained her to agree with it, not because she did not think of Caireann Lannister to be strong and loyal, but because of his betrothal that could possibly bring his doom. She knew the power of revenge and knew what that man could to to protect his pride.

The woman let her hand slide away and she straightened her back. "But promise me that you will try to reconsider," she added. "Willas Tyrell is still interested in his marriage..." even if it would not directly benefit him. It was merely a way to sting the vanity of the Lannisters, she supposed. Perhaps they could take that to their advantage if Robb did marry Caireann, but the price was still too high. She did not want to compromise the integrity of his cause for the sake of love.

Even if it brought him happiness.

She rose then, and began pacing around the room with her arms crossed at her chest. As the castle awakened, Cat could hear voices outside, in the hallway, the sounds of cutlery and steel, and hurried steps scampering down the stairs. "Of Lady Reyne's confinement," she started then, voice now firmer, "She should be allowed into the council to discuss this alliance with the Tyrells. It is more important than her confinement, despite of what she has done." The woman was a leader, after all, and her head was required if they even hoped for victory.

~***~

Caireann finished her pancake in silence and placed the plate on the table to prevent it from spilling on the bed when she moved. A slight smile cut through her lips as she heard that most of them did not mind her. It meant both Robb and she were safe from harm, but she doubted things would remain the same when he broke the news of their future marriage in front of them. An affair was one thing, but a wedding was something else... It meant a broken vow that could compromise everything they had built.

Still, she was happy to see that Lord Hetherspoon was not angry nor annoyed with their affections. It meant that she was safe, at least there, but she wouldn't push the subject further. "I am glad then," the girl muttered before standing up to take a seat at the table next to him. "I know I am a prisoner... And I know I am not meant to be loved by them, but I do appreciate you being kind to me." Smiling sweetly, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Both you and Lady Reyne... You have done a good job at raising a wonderful woman."

Even if she thought of herself to be imperfect and frigid, in her eyes she was still the symbol of strength and will. A leader, nonetheless.

And it was what Caireann wanted to grow up to be. She wanted to prove herself to be worthy in front of those who doubted her. It was her duty as a future Queen to hide her weaknesses and be brave, for Robb's sake if not her own. When he fell, if he did, she had to be there to lift him up. She had to carry the weight of her land on her shoulders and be able to empower those who couldn't help themselves. As Lenore would be the Warden of the West, she would learn to reign over the North, and the men that bent the knee to their King would learn to love her the way she was.

~***~

As Loras' smile broadened, Jaime's slowly disappeared. His vulnerability was already showing; there was no need for Hill to remind him of that, although he should have expected it one moment or another. Still, that wouldn't keep him from hinting at the Daisy each time he got the chance to do so, which only seemed to occur more often. The knight did not appear to shy away from making cheeky remarks. Likewise, the bastard couldn't keep his mouth shut, either.

"Trust me, I have more skill in that than you do," he teased back and bit down pn another comment regarding his sword. Loras drew closer and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"I hope you do not mind if my brother joins to watch," for he was a cripple as well, and could only fight on his horse, if needed. "He was curious this morning, to see the one who would put me down." He was still one made to rule from behind a desk rather than covered in steel, the way men did. In spite of that, he had the wits of their grandmother and the kindness and generosity of Margaery. Regardless, far better than the Kingslayer, but he wouldn't comment upon it. At least Willas had never been intimate with his sister.

He turned then, placed a hand on a guard's arm to pull him in and told him to send news to Willas that they would be sparring in the Vikary's camp. His smirk didn't left his lips as he did so, and when his gaze did return to them, it fixated on Hill. "Shall we? I have to say I'm eager to see what you can do." Jaime then questioned what Loras truly was eager to see.
 
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Robb was grateful Catelyn offered no further protest. "It is the right decision." He confirmed, not speaking of the Freys supposedly having their back. He wanted to say the only thing behind them was the North...but they could protect that. He didn't imagine Tywin going there, though. Not while he held ground in the West. "Thank you...and...if she prefers Willas, I will. I would never force her."

Though he hoped she would not. He was in an odd position. He wanted to think no bad of Willas for the alliance but he also wanted to think no good of him, either. Well...nothing too good. Robb was worried, the Tyrells overall were known as decent people. He worried that Willas would be better than him, in Caireann's eyes. She had been cold to him last night.

Robb wasn't escaping the rest of the issues though. "Lady Reyne is represented through Ser Hill," Robb indicated. "She has her own council still - she makes her voice known." Too easily. The bastard was a good choice, as loyal as a hound. "The alliance isn't excluded."

He wasn't sure if his mother would care. If he let Lenore in the council it was breaking her confinement and his ban on her removal from the council. He knew she would be quite smug over the freedom, too. Obnoxiously so.

~***~

Girls often struggled with the issue of insecurity more openly than men, and Tybalt could see it in Caireann, as well. He smiled gently as she thanked him for his kindness, even if there was no need for it. It was simply who he was. Who he always had been. It was the same kindness that brought the Reyne into his home, when he should have informed his liege lord that he had Roger’s daughter. Perhaps Tywin would not have killed her…but he didn’t believe that. Not then, not now.

She was to be his ruin now.

Sometimes, it surprised him how different they were. Blood, some said, was unimportant…but then he looked at her, and at Adryan, and knew otherwise. Adryan was as much a lion as anyone, and Lenore suffered the flaw of pride like the Reynes before her. He did not raise her that way. He had tried to teach her humility, mercy, and kindness. Still, he was grateful that so many seemed to like her, and be willing to follow her.

That was not him, he knew. He lacked the ambition to be more than he was. The anger and the passion. “Thank you,” he smiled to her compliment, “I tried,” it was all any father could do – try. Learn. He patted her hand that rested on his shoulder. "I am glad she learned some things from me.” To be…kind, if not warm. Or try, at least. “And I will pray that you find some respite here. Most will not care of you and Robb – and the others, one day, may see that you are a fine woman. They will see you as more than our enemy.”

One day. He would believe in that, for her. He saw her as far more than a Lannister, in spite of what they had done to him. He tried to see them all as individuals. He had to, if he was going to preach to a Reyne to be merciful.

~***~

Jaime’s smile faded a bit, and Ser Hill was a touch glad, considering all his quick words. Though, Jaime still had to make a comment. This time, Hill resisted one back – a mirror, a twin sister, those things didn’t count. Yet he refrained, and lied prettily.

Apparently, Willas already knew of Hill. ‘Grand.’ “I do not mind,” Hill didn’t. If Loras wanted his defeat on display, so be it. Pity he couldn’t have Lenore there to see him put the Daisy into the ground. She’d enjoy it. She usually did when he struck down uppity knights. He was uppity too – but he was her knight. There was that difference. He gave a nod at the request to continue on, "This way - we'll wait for our audience."

He led on to the camp, never too far ahead of Jaime. Eventually they made - that was obvious by the sound of Lymond's thunderous voice booming from the makeshift training yard, directing some fighters on the finer points of 'not getting fucking hit'. There was a group of them, squires, and Lymond seemed to be trying to get it into their heads that a battlefield wasn't a place of one-on-one combat. "Use the environment - use your armored shoulder of you'll end up like me, yelling at kids like you and not able to show!" Still too wounded.

"Lord Vikary." Hill raised his voice and attention turned. A smirk danced onto Lymond's lips at the sight of Loras. "Hate to ruin your lesson, but I would like to use the field for a single combat spar."

"I can never deny you, Lady Hill," he said, turned back to his group, "Clear out! Don't get any stupid heroic ideas from them."

~***~

Lenore was silent too long on Olenna’s comment, that it demanded a follow up. “Have you ever met him?”

“Define met.”

“Spoken to him longer than five minutes,” Olenna defined.

“No.” She had seen him, of course. She had been introduced to him only after she was legitimized, during some event at Casterly Rock that escaped her now. One would think such things would stick in her memory as crucial points, but they didn’t. She remembered him, of course, but he was indifferent to much around him, while hyper-alert at the same time.

Perhaps she had learned some things…that indifference.

Tybalt never let her linger long. She might be able to act to hide her emotions now, but it wasn’t always the case when she was younger, and the hatred had burned hot rather than cold. Before it was truly what she considered hatred. “I take it you have.”

“Several occasions,” business matters, after all. “He’s like you. He wants the point, and then he wants to move on, he doesn’t care about the idle things of other lords – flattery or threat.” It would be better to say Lenore imitated him in that, and in some other ways she could pick up on. The attempts to hide emotion and care. Right now, she imagined Tywin was still doing that, still holding his head high and telling his men there was nothing to worry about. Robb was just a boy. The Reyne was a lie.

She wasn’t a lie. She wasn’t Roger, Reynard, or Ellyn, but she was a Reyne – and it was obvious when her pride was pricked by a thorn. Any comparison to Tywin was unwanted. She’d gathered that the moment she had to talk of Caireann – her ‘code’ was put in place to avoid being like him. She knew, then, of the similarities. She knew the monster she could become. So long as her code held, perhaps she’d avoid it. “It seems we have come to some decisions, though. So long as we can get others to work with us,” Olenna pushed herself up, and the woman was quick to rise, too, “I still have to speak to Lord Stark to find out what he wants to do and if I want to help him do it – but at least we’re of a mind.”

“No strong kings, and no Lannisters.”

“But maybe a strong queen.”

“Maybe,” Lenore agreed. Daenerys still seemed more myth than real, but then…so was she herself. She would lead Olenna out. Yularen, fortunately, didn’t embarrass himself this time.
 
The noise outside was rising, and Catelyn's calm was fading with it. She pressed her palm to the hard oak of her desk and closed her eyes for a moment. She could not imagine Robb giving such a sentence to Lenore; likely, it had been one of the Westerners. Caireann even, for she doubted the girl hadn't toyed with his mind yet. But she couldn't blame him for listening; it had been solid advice, and far better than resorting to locking the woman in a cell.

It would have broken the Alliance and brought a dreadful doom upon them all.

"It is not necessarily about questions and answers, Robb," Cat let out a sigh and canted her head so she could look him in the eye again. "There has to be enough power of convincing. Lady Reyne knows how to use her words in her favour. You need her voice, not her knight's." She did not doubt Ser Hill in the slightest; the woman was intelligent enough to make good choices. It was Olenna Tyrell that she feared the most.

But she was in no position to change what has already been discussed. Robb would look weak in front of his men if he freed Lenore of her sentence too early. She chose to rely on the thought that she would be there to prove their point in her stead. Maege would, too, but she lacked the formality the Tyrells required. She breathed out again and averted her eyes. "Do as you consider," she spoke. "There is enough time until the council... You should steel yourself, at least."

As she would, for her arguments had been exhausted.

~***~

Caireann bit her lip at Tybalt's statements, her heart filling with warmth. It saddeded her that the man did not receive the affection he deserved; in her eyes, Hetherspoons were nothing like the Reynes. They did not refuse love when given, nor attention. Yularen had been sweet to her as well, and the boy very much reminded her of him.

She caressed the hand that patted hers on her shoulder and gave him a content smile. "I have already found my respite," she told him sincerely. "I am more loved here than I have ever been at home... Safe, as well," even if one should never fear their family. It was only Jaime and her father Tyrion that she trusted, and nobody else. Now, she had found a way to broaden that family... As misfit as it was.

Starting with Maege Mormont, she had made her path towards relative happiness. There were many who resented her, as well, but only Lord Karstark had voiced his hatred.

Now she could enjoy those little escapades, even if she never belonged anywhere. Caireann was not a woman of the North, not a Reyne, not a Hetherspoon nor a Vikary... But she had been accepted nonetheless. "One day, I will repay you all for your kindness," she promised, "with more than just pancakes." Lord Hetherspoon certainly deserved more than just dessert.

She removed her hand from his shoulder and rose, taking the empty plate along. "I will come back sometime... I heard they will make mint muffins, too." A chuckle left her lips and she turned to leave. "It was good to see you this morning, Lord Tybalt."

~***~

'A spar.'

Willas almost wanted to groan at the sound of it; Loras had spoken of it at breakfast, but he hadn't imagined the boy would be idiotic enough to do such things. He knew that Westerners did not play fair, yet he still insisted to prove himself stronger in front of a man whose age doubled his. "Tell him I will be there," he agreed in the end, and the guard who had come to inform him of it turned around on his heels and left.

It did not take him long to get himself dressed and step out the door. His legs felt heavier that day, and he resented the thought of having to walk all the way to the Vikary camp. His cane did not fit well with the pavement, and it seemed to always slip when he leaned his weight against it, especially now that the weather was more humid. Clouds had gathered in the sky, threatening to pour by the end of the day.

He found the way to the camp quicker than expected, but with the price of his breath. Willas caught it eventually, before going to find those who were waiting there for him. Loras was the first to see him; even his walk now inspired arrogance. "We were just preparing ourselves," he spoke, but Willas's eyes fixated on the golden cripple behind him.

The Kingslayer looked even worse than Margaery had told him. He could barely hold himself up on his crutches, and his eyes reflected his pain. Still, he carried the same aura of pride with him - back straightened and gaze as still as a predator's. It must be just as difficult for him to watch the men spar just as it had been for Willas for a long time, but he had grown out of it, mostly.

"Lord Tyrell."

"Ser Jaime."

"I like your cane."

A grin parted the boy's lips then, and he shook his head before approaching. Jaime smirked as well and inclined his head with respect. He then stepped away from the field, to make room for the two combatants. Willas followed, and Loras stood his ground. "A blunt sword is all I need," he spoke, and turned to Lymond. "Lord Vikary. I presume you have plenty," then to Hill - "I only like mine sharp."
 
Robb would grant his mother that. When it came to cunning and voices, Lenore had a convincing one. Lord Farman did as well but he was gone. Lord Bolton did - but he tended to be reserved in a group. Lenore would be able to keep the flow of conversation in check and make sure they stayed on topic.

"I will consider it." He did not want to change his mind. He didn't want Lenore there or to think her necessary for a good alliance - but she did lead her side. She was significant...but Olenna wanted to see her anyway. They would talk. Willas might see her, too. He did not know if it would make much of a difference but he could hope.

He tried to smile, "I will try to prepare and speak to the Tyrells before a formal council is called, regardless. I appreciate what you have done," now it was up to him to make the right decisions...and perhaps it was time as well to venture into the lion's den and see how Lenore was. He did not expect a warm welcome and in truth, did not want to deal with both her and Jaime at the same time.

His mother was stressed...she had a lot on her plate now that she had returned. He didn't blame her...he had disappointed her by falling for Caireann and putting them in this tense situation with the alliance. "Is there anything more you would like or shall I begin to prepare?" Meet with the Tyrells. Meet with Lenore. Set the council.

~***~

Lions were made differently. Tywin, though of Marbrand and Lannister, was Lannister through and through. Lenore was Reyne, as pure as any. Caireann seemed more Westerling than Lannister. Too sweet. Even though Tybalt knew Tyrion to be as much a lion as Tywin, it seemed his daughter was not. It was not strong in her.

Tybalt quietly considered it good. Kings and Queens of the jungle got caught up in their grand schemes. Happiness eluded Tywin as it did Lenore.

"I am glad you have found respite with us. The Mother has had mercy on you at last," he kept his smile gentle. "Let us hope this war will find your happiness permanent after it ends, as well. I need nothing more - I never concerned myself with debts." Not any longer. He needed only his peace, his home, and a prayer that he would live to see the end of this. "Those muffins are quite good though. And the pancakes."

Unlikely. But hoped for.

"I will be glad to see you again, of course," he rose. "Let me at least walk you out, my lady," far too rude not to, even if he didn't hold others strictly to manners. He ought to at least remain a gentleman.

~***~

A crowd was growing near the field. Ser Hill's reputation extended to the West, but Loras's went beyond. People wanted to see - and Hill ignored the fuss, stretching out, never going for armor. He would stand by it - unnecessary fuss. He wouldn't lose. His pride was on the line.

Willas was waited for. "Lord Willas," Hill greeted, and then he turned to Lymond. "Blunted bastard sword if you have it, mimic his own style for him." Hill removed his own sharp sword and set it aside.

Lymond grunted and fetched the blades, offering to Loras a sword that he had seen him with when the knight arrived, before going to Adryan. As he clapped the sword into his hand, he put a palm down on his shoulder and pulled the knight to him. "Don't fuck this up for us." Us. The West. Lions.

Ser Hill didn't so much as smirk or show cockiness. Battle always turned him stoic before - a cold and focused bloodlust. He couldn't train others effectively - he always fought to win. "Have some faith in me." He learned a lot from Lymond, too.

Lymond then moved off the grounds as Hill tested the weight and balance with a few practice swings, one and two handed, before looking to Loras. "Good?"
 
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