Fangs and Claws [Closed]

[peritwinkle]

Robb did not appear hurt at her sincerity, and Caireann was more than glad he had agreed to joining her for breakfast. Starting the day with him by her side sparked her appetite and made her jolly, at least for the time being. It was now a tradition for them to have breakfast together, for they had done so almost every morning from the day they met, but adding Willas and Margaery to the equation did not seem to be such a bad thing. If they were to be Robb's allies one day, he ought to get to know them better, as little as she liked the idea of having to endure his glances at Margaery's neckline.

When he mentioned her attire, she shrugged and bit her lip. "My pink one needs sewing after you tore it apart at the laces. I will ask Mina to sew it for me if she has the time." She always patched up her skirts whenever it was needed, and did quite a good job as well. The seams were barely visible between the folds. "I have three or four more, from some of the maidens around the castle," and they were in perfectly good shape. The red one was the prettiest, though the cut was not fit for a breakfast. Not for her, either way.

Caireann placed her empty plate of puree on the bedside and started seducing the berry cobbler. "I don't want you to buy me silks and dresses," she frowned a little as she dug through it. "Not when you can spare your gold for your men." Dresses wore off and faded with time; even as some were beautiful, they were simple pieces of material. "I am sure Mina or any other maiden will have something nice for me to wear... If not, I will have her hasten the process of repairing my pink one."

A smile spread across her lips at a vivid memory, and when she lifted her gaze to meet him, her eyes glistened in anticipation. "If there will be a feast, I will wear my red gown, and you could wear your attire from the first," hopefully, it wouldn't bring back sad memories. "You looked so handsome in white...," or any light colour, for that matter. His darker clothing made her think of war and suffering, and it was not a context in which she wanted to remember him. "But you always look handsome... Especially when you breathe," she chuckled.

Only because it was all he had to do to make her happy – breathe.

~***~

Jaime was somehow relieved when he heard that Lenore would eventually be alright, even if the effect was not immediate. Though, twelve hours was almost too much time, and he was not sure how she would cope with attending the council so early in the morning after that incident. "She had the whole night to properly rest," he said and stood up. "Move her to the bed." She needed it more than him. A chair was not a comfortable place for a longer nap, even if she did not feel anything in the meantime.

It still scared him to see her like this, unmoving, as though it were the calm before the storm, and as much as he tried to tell himself she would be well, it was still impossible not to think of the worst. Aeron looked optimistic, but Tybalt was as fierce as a lion in that moment, waiting to throttle the life out of anyone who dared to touch his daughter then. There was something in the way he looked at Jaime that unrested him, but he chose to ignore it right then. He could not quench his worries for the sake of appearing frigid in front of them.

He was not Lenore Reyne.

With slower movements this time, Jaime made his way to his bed, grunting at every single step that he took against the broken bone. The pieces had been sutured together, but it still moved unnaturally in his calf, and he could feel each drop of blood rushing and gushing through his veins into the spot. When he did reach it after, what had felt like more than a few steps, he let himself fall onto the mattress and bit his lips again to muffle an audible growl. His heartbeat was decreasing in rate, thankfully, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep at all that night.

And, without a question, Hill would stay there with her as well if the rest did not. He tried to push himself into thinking Lenore would wake up in the morning, as bitter as she had always been, demanding more tea and trying to reassure everyone she felt fine. "I think you should keep that box for a while," Jaime looked over at Aeron, "so she is not tempted to start using them again soon."

 

[Lucyfer]

The king flushed a bit at the mention of what he had done, so shortly after what she had done to his own attire. "No, no, if I temporarily ruin one of your dresses it is only proper that I get you a new one." At least one for now. "Tomorrow, if all goes with the Alliance with the Tyrells, I will take you out to see the options and seamstresses available." He would enjoy her presence out like that.

Willas might also get the hint.

He laughed at her words of breathing as what made him handsome, "I intend to keep doing that for as long as possible," he told her, and took a jokingly deep breath, before exhaling it with a short laugh. He finished up the meat he had and added, "I enjoy wearing light colors but it isn't prudent most of the time. Outside of formal events, the light attire would get ruined," he sighed.

Otherwise he might wear it more. White, grays, light blues - but in war there was no time for such luxury. At Winterfell there was hardly the time for it. "I will dress up just as handsomely for our next feast, Lady Lannister," he promised, "and I will look forward to seeing you in red."

Like a lion. Red was shared by Reyne and Lannister alike, after all. He would enjoy seeing how well she pulled off such a vibrant color.

~***~

Ser Hill moved to Lenore and did not even try to get her to stand on her own. He pulled her up and into his arms to take her to the bed, and laid her down. She seemed unperturbed by the move and Tybalt went to sit on the bed with her. "You both may go." Aeron could do no more. Hill deserved his rest. Yularen would come with food.

"My lord-,"

"This won't be my first sleepless night over her," he reminded. "Go - they need you more than me tomorrow." Yularen would repent sleeping in by staying with Jaime until after the council.

Hill hesitated, but when Aeron gathered his things, he sighed but consented. Aeron glanced to Tybalt. "Do you serve the Lannisters?" A huff, "Leave it." She would tear the room apart. Jaime. Trying to stop her was more dangerous.

Aeron inclined his head and left with Hill, quickly. "Honestly," Tybalt chuckled to himself when they were gone before he found Lenore's hand to hold. "Act with enough confidence and people will fall over themselves trying to heed." A trick Lenore learned, too.

 

[peritwinkle]

There was something in Robb's tone that rendered Caireann unable to deny him, but guild still lingered in her at the thought of asking for such a favour. Dresses were generally expensive, and in one of the largest ports in Westeros, amid war, such materials were bound to be substantially more pricey, even for the King in the North. The Starks did not have the Lannister gold, but their hearts made up for it, and Caireann felt pleasantly pampered right then.

And the thought of taking a walk outside with Robb was not at all bothering. "I would love to go out with you," the girl smiled, though she did worry about what the others might think, especially in the presence of the newcomers. It was worrying enough that she would bring Robb to have breakfast with the Tyrells, and if the rumours of their affections had not reached their ears, they sure would get the hint if he appeared courteous in front of them.

Still, it would be exciting to see the market, if he did have the time for her. She had been waiting to take him there for a while, to see the exotic trinkets and embellished books, the strange merchants and the busy sailors. Perhaps they could pay Sita a visit as well, so Robb could have arrows and blades made for his soldiers before the battle, although there was the chance the woman had left. Many things had changed in the market following Lord Farman's return, Mina had said.

Once the cobbler was finished, Caireann set the plate to the side once again and slid over to curl up next to him, beneath the fur comforter. "Do you want him to know?" that they were in love, for it would not take more than a gest to reveal their true feelings for eachother. She supposed he no longer tried to hide it in front of his men after Lord Vikary's outburst, and as much as the Roses were said to like gossip, one day they would know. "Because I don't want to marry Willas. I want to marry you."

Regardless of his intentions, for Robb had protected and loved her from the very moment she stepped into his camp. Willas would not be the one to harvest the fruit of his efforts, only in the name of an old betrothal.

~***~

When Lenore was brought back into bed and tucked beneath a thick blanket, Jaime's eyes shifted to her chest. Her breathing was once again rhythmical, but slow and heavy. He wondered if her pulse had evened out, although he did not dare to touch her in front of Tybalt. Not in the state that he was then, stressed and furious, despite the fact that his anger was not directed particularly at him, and if it was, it was subtle enough for Jaime not to feel a thing.

And he could feel nothing but fear as he stared down at the Ghost, counting the moments until she gave a sign of getting considerably better. His thoughts were echoing in his ears with screams and shouts of the battle for Lannisport, the green waves that had swallowed their ship whole. He could now remember every bit of it, too vividly, as though it were happening again before him. Her skin was of the same pallor as it had been that night, after being taken out of the ice cold water.

Hill left, yet Jaime did only notice it when the door slammed shut. He lifted his eyes towards it, made a note of his absence, then he turned back to face Tybalt. "She does muddle the mind of many," he let out a sigh and smiled bitterly, "and I still cannot tell how she does it. She made me fear her." Every single night when she tied him to the cold bed and forced him to remain alone and vulnerable. Every single day when she spoke to him, and he waited to hear what methods of torture she had in mind.

How, in the name of the Gods, had he managed to make her fall for him? While she accused Robb of his ignorance in front of love, she made the same mistake without daring to admit it. They were both cowards, for they knew they had to suffer if what they had done was known to the world, just like Caireann and Robb would once they saw the true face of war, and eventually, it would happen.

Pain. Agony. Grief. Those where the feelings that described chaos, not love. Love was only meant to motivate, not protect. It was how he coped with it - he forced himself to quench it whenever it struck, even though it was getting more and more powerful. And in Tybalt, he could see it burning lively, flames dancing in his eyes as they did in his own when he saw Caireann. There was anger, and there was sorrow. Terror, for what could have been, if Aeron had come too late.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb was pleased that Caireann seemed to agree with the idea, then. He would enjoy a trip around the market with her, and wanted to see it with her at his side. It would look different, through her eyes – and he’d love to know who it was that fashioned the dagger at her request. They had quite the skill, and he did always keep it near at hand, now. It would always be near, and easy enough to bring most anywhere. “Then we will go tomorrow,” he said.

The topic shifted then to what they should do about their relationship, as Caireann shifted next to him. He moved his empty plate then, to take her hands in his, before he would speak. If it should be…common knowledge to the Tyrells. “I think…if there is no need to mention it, we should not be overt. However, if asked, we should not deny it,” Robb said. He only wanted to marry Cairreann as well, but he knew he was in a tricky situation with Willas.

He did not wish to lie to him, but he also did not want to cause unnecessary trouble. “I do not want us to lie to anyone in the future, Caireann. We have made our decisions. When your father agrees to it, we will find a way to be wed,” he smiled at her then, “There is no one else that I want to marry. Yet, we know the trouble it causes to others.” For understandable reasons. He was breaking a vow. Caireann would be breaking a vow.

If it wouldn’t already be broken by Willas turning on the Lannisters – assuming he could convince Willas of it. Or if Caireann could. She might have better luck at sweetening Willas to the idea of such treachery. “So we should refrain from announcing it everywhere. We will only be honest,” mention it, if it was needed.

~***~

Tybalt listened to her pulse as he felt it through her wrist. His brown eyes did not alight on Jaime, but they were darkened by the man’s words. There was nothing offensive about them, but he could not help but feel some irritation.

Melara had loved Jaime from afar. Her letters, while she was with Cersei, always spoke of Jaime. Always, until the end. She had wanted to marry him one day, though Tybalt would never ask Tywin for such a thing – far above his station to do so.

Now Jaime spoke of Lenore, and muddled minds. Lenore was better at hiding things than any man she’d ever been with. Cold on a whim. Hot on a whim. She flickered like candlelight between her facets of truth. “Your mind is muddled indeed, Ser.” He spoke without looking at Jaime, the resentment there. He was quite certain Lenore was asleep then, or she would have stirred to try and quiet him.

“You care too much for her,” he stated the obvious, and let his eyes fall upon Jaime then. “How has she muddled your mind, Ser? I doubt it was teas – she reserves that for herself.” Did he want to know? Of course he did. He wouldn’t like it. And Jaime wouldn’t tell him, either. He knew that. This wasn’t Aeron, not a man easily intimidated.

But Lenore might confess it if he pretended to know.

 

[peritwinkle]

Flames seemed to dance in Robb's eyes as he spoke, deepened in thought but just as cheerful. Caireann was happy to feel him radiate positivity even in the situation that they found themselves in. She knew that the subject of Willas was sensitive to him, but it ought to be brought up once, and the way it had been received was nothing but pleasant. Their relationship as a whole was not something she wanted to keep hidden for too long, if only for the fear of never being accepted it the news were broken too late.

Still, they had to be reserved in their actions, but Robb was not one to show much affection around others. "They will not ask," or at least Willas would not. They were too polite to request such intimate details, even if they were relatively known around the castle. A King's affair was not something to be easily overlooked. "But if they do, I will let you speak. I don't want to slip," like she had done with Lord Vikary that once. That, and she secretly longed to hear him say he loved her again.

It was still her the one to say it first, and the more time passed, the more difficult saying it seemed to become for Robb. Perhaps it was doubt or fear, but those two feelings composed the stairs to failure, and she did not wish to be abandoned again if he decided Margaery was, indeed, better than her. There was a chance Lady Stark thought as much, and she was influential enough to chance his mind. If he had broken his vow for her, he could at least make it worth it.

Those thoughts brought a sour taste on her lips which threatened to linger for a while, and even then, in his arms, Caireann wondered if he felt the same for her as she did for him. She let out a small sigh and stood up to remove her dress and slipped into the bed, pulling the blanket along to tuck herself in. Glancing up at him from her warm roost, one hand reached out to him to pull him close to her if allowed. "You are mine," she reminded firmly, glistening eyes locked on his. "Just in case you've forgotten... You belong to me."

~***~

Silence fell for a moment, and it was heavy enough to hurt. When he did speak though, Jaime realised his mistake but maintained his composure. Tybalt was an intelligent man; he knew how to read between the lines, much better than Hill or Yularen. Being Lenore's step-father, he could have seen it her eyes, felt it in her heartbeat just like Tyrion did with Caireann. Now, as he stared down at him, he seemed to have managed to decipher him like an open book, and there was no reason to hide anymore.

But for the sake of his own life, he had to at least play it formally. Sincere, never wavering. As long as he told the truth, he had nothing to fear.

"When you save someone's life, Lord Hetherspoon," Jaime started quietly, "you feel bound to do it again, and again, and again until you know they are safe," and his instincts were now ablaze in front of the ill Reyne, but in spite of his struggles, he knew he was useless. "I do not know why I did it. This woman has tormented me and kept me chained for days on end," and if had hurt more than traditional torture. Unable to move, he now felt much the same, but at least he was free of the chains and ropes that had cut his skin raw.

It all changed when he spoke, and she seemed to have remembered how to be human again. He had grown fond of her in time, but could not tell what had pushed him into risking his own life to save hers. "Lady Reyne knows how to play with one's emotions, but as you know, my tender ones are reserved for Cersei." Sour and frank. Not entirely a lie, but the feelings for Lenore were much stronger than what he felt for Cersei... He had left those behind long ago, after Rosalind came into his life like a hurricane of thorns and cynicism.

And, in perspective, there was nothing he needed to worry about. That war would end, one day, with either Lenore's death or his own. They were bound to part and never see eachother again, and even if both of them lived, he would resent her for executing his father, just like he would Robb Stark for harming his family, even if Joffrey was as much a monster as the Mad King. He did not care for the great Lannister legacy, but he did believe in his family, for it meant power, and the closer the end was, the more he found himself appreciating it... branch by branch.

 

[Lucyfer]

The auburn king agreed with his queen – the Tyrells would not ask. Not at an event so formal, not when they were hardly friends. Not when they were together. He could imagine one or the other asking in private, as intimates, trying to play at friends by holding secrets for the other – but he could not imagine it at breakfast. He would want to tell Willas. He wanted to let him know that Caireann was his, but it was also imprudent to make such declarations.

Impolite, considering the situation.

Robb wanted to formally announce his intentions, but the situation did not allow for it. It had to be clouded like this, until Tyrion agreed, until they had figured it all out between themselves. Yet, at least his mother knew, with no doubts. Others knew, as well, and it would slowly become known to the Tyrell host if it was not already.

And then one day, he would be able to formally announce it.

She slipped from him, and his eyes lingered upon her as she stripped down to only a slip, before she curled herself up in the blankets of fur. His plate was already set aside, and he started to rise follow her lead, to dress down for bed, but first she reached for him, and he allowed it. Her eyes were burning into him with arduous passion and he could not look away as they tried to possess him, the very same passion in her words.

“I am yours,” he agreed, “My Queen.” His, and only ever his. “From before this day, and beyond it.” He bent his lips to kiss her hand, before he would pull away to dress down and join her, glad he had started putting clothes in her room. It made mornings much easier.

~***~

A muddled mind, a muddled heart. Lenore had a talent that Tybalt imagined Roger had imparted on her – his last gift, a charisma that worked even when she was frigid. Roger had always been warm, and the wildfire had danced in his eyes just as it did Lenore’s. Perhaps it was a hypnotism – he knew too well what Jaime had spoken of. He had been saving Lenore’s life for years, since his first lie to Tywin Lannister about a bastard daughter. He had shamed his wife and himself for her.

“Do I know that?” Tybalt spoke then after he mentioned Cersei. He had nothing confirmed, of course. He lived on the rumors, and the firm beliefs that Hill and Yularen seemed to have gained. Secrets spilled here, didn’t they? “I suppose I do now.” It did not matter to him. He lived under the Targaryens. They wed sister to brother. Honestly, that people found it so horrific was what amused Tybalt.

Lenore’s breath shuddered, but Tybalt did not seem too terrified by it. His eyes returned to her face, and he brushed the back of his hand by her face. She was cooling. The sweating would stop soon. She would recover, as she had before, and she would wake. There would be food then, and Tybalt would make sure she ate. “You have acted tender to her.” He saw it when he entered and saw how Jaime held her. He saw it then in his worry. “And I suspect she’s done the same,” how else would she muddle his mind if she was only cruel to him? Perhaps tender wasn’t the right word – but less cruel.

He could say more, but there was no point to it. Lenore always played this game, played with men who offered no future. Safer, for a woman who saw herself as dead and without a future. Aeron was a maester – there was no future there. Jaime – prisoner, king’s guard, enemy – again, it provided no future. Safe. Just her type. “Spare her what affection or tenderness you please,” he said, only to add, “Save your heart for Cersei.” It was not to say Jaime was unworthy, nor even to say Lenore was. It was simply practical. Humans needed affection like they needed oxygen, even Lenore...but it'd be foolish for Jaime to think he could ever have more.

Lenore had no heart to offer. She had love. She had affection. She had a heart – but she had already given it away to Tywin.

 

[peritwinkle]

The room was dark, but the light of the fire danced in Catelyn's eyes with an undying vigor. There was a knock on the door before Maege entered, for once dressed in a more comfortable attire. She parted her lips to make a remark on whether she slept in armor, but pursed them quickly and waited to hear what she had to say. That day had rendered her tired, too weak to by cynical anymore.

"Have you spoken to him?"

Robb. That was why she was there, why her chest was heaving in anxiety and her cheeks were reddened in fear. Maege had been there by his side throughout the course of the incident with Rickard, but had chosen to allow her son to break the news in front of her. It would have been a wise choice from her side, had she not doubted the integrity of the information. "I did," the woman replied with a long sigh, "and I was not pleased to hear of..."

"None of us was, Lady Stark," she nodded. "Rickard's mistake had us pay dearly. We have lost a large portion of our army and Lord Glover fears they might join the Lannisters after Lenore Reyne unrightfully executed their overlord."

Cat left the comfort of the armchair and stood up, clutching the ermine at her chest. "They are men of the North. If they do not support Robb, they will at least support his cause," for what he did was for the good of their home. They could all benefit from independence, with or without Karstark. "He was well intentioned to show mercy, although I suppose it was not him behind it fully."

"The Council advised him well." Maege had not been happy with it, but learnt to accept and respect his decision.

"Lady Lannister advised him well."

There was a break of silence, in which Lady Mormont stared at Catelyn without a breath escaping her lips. Then, when she did move, her gaze turned frigid again, formal, and she cleared her throat. "She is a good girl. She is loyal and kind, but nothing more than a whim to your son, Lady Stark. There is nothing you should worry about." There was a hint of wavering in her voice, which she tried to hide but failed. Feelings were becoming more and more difficult to quench as she grew older.

"Robb wants to marry her, Lady Mormont," Cat fixated her with a burning gaze. "He intends to break his vows to Lord Frey and marry for love."

'And could you forbid him to love, Catelyn? War has made you heartless,' and her, irrational. Walder Frey was not a man of mercy, but nor had he given them more than just a pass to cross his bridge at The Twins. It was not worth more than some gold, and the marriage of the King in the North was far too valuable to waste that way. But from Caireann he had nothing to gain; possible relations with the South, yet the girl was only beloved by her uncle and father. Sansa - she was too well kept now to be sent away for Caireann's sake.

"We will see." Maege closed her eyes for a moment to mask her doubt. Eventually Cat did look away, abashed by her outburst, but sourness remained lingering on her tongue. "We will speak to eachother again in the council tomorrow." The She-Bear turned to leave, hesitated at the door, and opened it to disappear into the empty hallway. They would speak, although there would be no mention of Robb's childish intentions in front of the Tyrells. If all went well, and if he did wish to forsake his vow, they might find a way to profit out of it, as well.

~***~

Jaime could not blame Tybalt for wanting Lenore for himself. After what he must have gone through to keep her safe, it was only natural for him to be protective over his cub, even if she was a grown woman, strong and intelligent enough to take care of herself. Still, in moments like this, one had to doubt the latter, for it had only taken a small mistake to almost crush herself completely. No, her decision lacked rationality, but he was glad she was still breathing.

It was still strange how the man did not seem to have been aware of his relationship with Cersei, or perhaps he knew and only wished to push the matters further. He was kind and humble, but now he was as more a fork than he was a spoon. "One does not have control over matters of the heart," he averted his gaze and closed his eyes for a brief moment. 'It was not my choice to fall in love with my sister... Nor was it mine to love a ghost.'

"I have made countless mistakes over the course of my life so far, Lord Hetherspoon," Jaime continued bitterly. "I have fought and lost, and now that I am unable to defend myself, I may only use the only weapon I have left." Love. It was what kept him hoping for a better future and what had held him from running away - his affection for Caireann and desire to keep her safe. It was more a promise than anything else, for late Rosalind and his brother Tyrion. For himself.

He lifted himself up from the edge of Lenore's bed and found his own, gritting his teeth at the pain. The sheets were now cold, but he did not bother himself with closing the window. The breeze was more pleasurable than heat, even if it seeped in the scent of smoke and dust. He wanted it to rain again, but the skies were serene and clear. They gave off enough light to keep him awake through the night, but he would not be able to fall asleep even if he wanted to.

A thought crossed his mind then, sudden and kindled, although he kept it for himself. No, he would not ask of Caireann then, as Tybalt's mind was so clouded with his own daughter, but he was curious if she had mentioned him at all. If he still had her, if he were to lose Lenore that day.

Pathetic. Love and pain were turning him sensible and mellow. Two months ago, he would not have recognised himself the way he was now. He would have laughed in Tybalt's face for his concern over Lenore when the woman was everything but innocent and frail. Maybe the man would understand now - why he had allowed his feelings to grow over time. Why he suffered for Caireann and worried over a Reyne.

 

[Lucyfer]

Morning came to the pair, nestled under the covers and warm. Robb held Caireann close in his arms, not wanting to wake, but not wanting to sleep. He wanted to stay locked in the moment of holding her, but the day slowly returned to him, and with it, the fact he needed to get up and go have breakfast with the Tyrells. Willas. That meant he did not get to stay and have it just with Caireann alone, but had to rise from the bed and leave it.

Even if the morning was warm, it would feel frigid on his skin after this.

He moved slowly, gradually preparing to leave the bed and his beloved’s side. He would sit up and then lean over to kiss her forehead, not certain if she was awake and pretending to be asleep as he wished to do, or truly asleep, “Good morning, my love,” he whispered sleepily. If nothing else, he had certainly slept peacefully.

He would move himself then from the bed, to begin to get dressed in the clothing he had brought into the room before, all the while he was also trying to steel himself for enduring the Tyrells this early in the morning. They would be morning people, wouldn’t they? Hopefully they would not be overbearing in the morning. Not in the council, and not at breakfast.

‘Olenna.’ That seemed to be the name thrown around as the truly overbearing one, and he hadn’t interacted with her nearly enough before this council. He felt woefully unprepared for this as his fingers fumbled at the laces of his own vest that morning.

~***~

‘No, we cannot control our heart, but we control our actions.’ Words Tybalt had taught Lenore young, words that stuck with her through her life and made her cold. She felt, but whatever she felt, she rarely showed. He still considered it good advice, if she had only been in a place not to need it like she did….

He let Jaime alone, though.

Yularen did arrive later in the evening, and Lenore did stir awake later, as well. Befuddled, confused, as if she woke from a very long sleep and didn’t quite know when she was any longer. She ate, only because Tybalt told her it was necessary. Else, she would have gone right back to sleep. He spoke with her, tested her memory, before he let her go back to sleep. He didn’t leave, though he respected the need for quiet.

Like Lenore so often did, he read to pass the time until the morning. He sent to have a bath run – poison sweating out left a certain, sour scent behind that needed to be washed out before the council. The sheets would also be removed and replaced, and she woke in good time again, still not quite fully present. Too cold and too pale, but Tybalt told her to take the path and she went to wash out the remnants of the poison.

When she returned to the room, she had her hair braided back to dry, and wore a white and silver dresses that added to that ghostly rumor. “I see your humor has returned,” Tybalt noted.

Lenore did smirk. Yes, the bath helped, though she was still too pale and cold away from the warm waters. “I told Hill not to get you last night.”

“He didn’t intend to.” Tybalt sighed, setting his book aside. “Don’t worry, I’ll get a nap before the Council,” now that he saw she was all right. “Remember to eat before you play with poisons, Lenore. That’s what Aeron believes caused it to be so bad this time.” He rose from the couch to approach her, “Were you that upset?” He didn’t care that Jaime or Yularen were there.

Lenore just shut her eyes, the expression opening up to reveal the answer – yes. The confinement was still grating on every nerve that she had. Tybalt reached for her hand again and her eyes opened. “I will see you again at the Council. Have breakfast. Wake up. Remember the people in that room are allies.”

“Even Bolton?” A childish question and he knew it, letting a smile curve on his lips as he saw the glint in her eyes.

“Yes.”

She moved to embrace Tybalt, half-duty, half-sincerity. She did appreciate him, wished he would not worry as much as he did…but was glad someone did. He used the moment to add, “And Jaime, it seems.” If she could have gotten paler, she would have, and her expression wore worry too openly when Tybalt pulled away, but he did not comment further. Not with Yularen present. That confirmed Lenore had been fast asleep for his conversation with Jaime, though.

“Yularen,” he spoke up then, breaking Lenore’s expression back into its mask before she would turn around to get a drink of cider that had been brought up earlier. No tea right then. “You’re going to stay with Jaime up until Hill returns from the Council with Lenore.”

Yularen had looked guilty all night for being so late. This nightshift was not working out for him. “I will,” he promised Tybalt.

“Good. If I hear one word that you left these chambers, I will write to your father.” And with that, Tybalt would leave them.

 

[peritwinkle]

When the sweet dreams shattered, Caireann lay awake in her bed, but did not open her eyes just yet. She waited, listened, bathed in the warmth of the sunlight that poured through the window and the Wolf's body by her side. His breathing became heavier as he began to stir, heartbeat quickening against her own body. His arms slid from around her, and as the warmth faded, he rose from the bed with a quick kiss pressed to her forehead.

'My love.' Upon hearing the words, Caireann's eyes shot open to take in the sight of him, cheeks flushed and eyes as blue as the clear sky. His voice vibrated with the waves outside, like a melody that only lured her to sleep instead of waking her up. She wanted to curl up in his arms then, breathe in his scent and listen to him hum until she fell into a dulcet slumber.

It was then when she remembered her promise to Willas, and she forced herself to sit up, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. Her gaze followed him get dressed, his hands working quickly to lace up his shirt, while his thoughts seemed to wander. "You murmured in your sleep last night," Caireann smiled, "but I could not distinguish any words, though I do hope your dreams were lovely," for hers certainly had been.

Now, as reality began to seep into her thoughts, it became more and more difficult to focus on him. With slow movements, she rose and tiptoed to her dresser to find a dress fit for that day. The morning air stung her bare skin as she gave him a lingering peek, already missing the feeling of his arms around her. She picked up a green cotton dress, loose for her frame but with enough laces to fit around her waist, before quickly slipping into it. Not her prettiest, certainly not as elegant as Margaery's, but better than her usual grey skirts.

Caireann moved over to the mirror then, to begin brushing through her locks, and would braid her bangs and pin them at the back of her head. "There is no need to be nervous," she promised Robb, but did not sound as convinced as intended. "Lord Willas is very kind... And I suppose you are already accustomed to Lady Margaery." Not meant to sting, but it would remind him of her presence. "It will be alright, you will see."

~***~

Through the night, Jaime had forced himself to stay awake, but as the first rays of sun broke through the morning fog, they found him deepened in slumber. He was still sitting up, leaning against the hard headboard, with one arm numbly hanging over the side of the bed. He thought he had heard voices around him, steps and shuffling, but shrugged them unconsciously before the door slammed shut near him and he was stirred awake.

When his eyes opened, they landed on a pale figure in front of him, radiating a strange glow in contrast with the scarlet of her hair. Lenore parted her lips and spoke to Tybalt, words Jaime could barely hear, until his body began functioning again and he was able to articulate words himself, when he heard his name. "The council," he mumbled weakly. "You are still going..."

Tybalt should not have allowed her to, but if she was strong enough to keep herself on her feet, she could support the weight of meticulous decisions in war in front of the Queen of Thorns. Easy.

Jaime made an effort to pull himself up on the edge of the bed and blinked a few times to clear his sight. Another comment remained stuck on his lips when the door opened once again to let the Lord leave, and his gaze shifted to Yularen, who seemed more dishevelled than all of them together. The boy had stayed up all night guarding him, and his bright eyes had sunken in, complexion now dull and tired. It made him appear slightly less pretty, but he was still too delicate for a knight and a man his age.

"What did he say of me?" he looked at Lenore then, breathing heavily. There was a throbbing ache in his temples, as though he had drunk all night long. "I spoke to him when you slept... If he mentioned that..." He could not provide detail in front of Yularen, but he was more than certain Tybalt had brought him up one way or another. He would have to find the words to defend himself in front of the Reyne.

 

[Lucyfer]

Caireann rose shortly after he did, though even Robb could tell they were of the same mind. They would have preferred to extend their morning by sleeping together still and enjoying each other’s company for a bit longer. Yet, the necessity of breakfast with the Tyrells called. He smiled a bit at the thought that he murmured in his sleep. Dreamt.

He didn’t truly dream anymore.

It was always as Grey Wind. His mind was always awake in that sense. While his body rested, his mind did not get that same sort of respite. He still did not know how to stop it, nor how he even left his body…but it happened, night after night. “I enjoyed my dreams,” he said. Nothing ill had been found. It was just another peaceful night, really.

He was thankful for them.

Caireann donned a beautiful green dress, and he knew it would make her look good. The red of her blonde hair would be more apparent, and it would make her quite lovely to the eyes. His own, of course, and Willas’s – though he certainly hoped Willas would not try anything foolish with his Caireann. “I will be nervous until I have the alliance,” Robb confessed.

He had not considered the presence of Margaery, though. Now a new nervousness stirred in him. He would have to make sure not to be distracted by her too much, lest he hurt Caireann again. He almost wondered if this was some cruel joke of the gods or the Tyrells, to place the vivacious woman before him, alongside her brother, as if to serve as a distraction so Willas might have a way to woe Caireann right from under his nose.

He'd have to be more diligent somehow.

He moved to where she stood, bangs braided, and he wrapped an arm around her waist as he looked at them in the mirror – her in her pretty green, and Robb in his black. Always, black. The shirt was at least a paler shade of gray. “I am accustomed to both of the Tyrells now,” he told her, “and you will be, soon. Perhaps you should talk to Margaery?” A way to keep the woman distracted.

Perhaps she would be nice, too. Kind, like Willas. Like all Tyrells…it would be a way to keep her interest fixed on Caireann, either way.

He smiled at their reflection, then moved, fingers lingering as he pulled his arm away from her, tracing as much of her cloth-covered skin as they could before he had turned to the door, “When you are ready,” his arm was offered then in that sense.

~***~

Cider to her lips, Lenore tried not to think of the parting words of Tybalt. Of what that was going to mean. This wasn’t over, she knew that too well, but he knew how to keep secrets better than she did. Probably, better than most.

He was just so unassuming.

“Yes, I am going,” she answered Jaime, staying standing by the table. She felt light-headed still, but she wanted to stand. This was for strength. Going to the council was for strength. No one needed to know what had happened.

Yularen yawned, and shook his head. The night was always boring for him, but this one had just been…stressful. He’d been told everything by Tybalt already – Lenore’s stupidity with Nightshade. Again. He hadn’t heard any comment on Jaime, and was intrigued by the conversation now.

Lenore narrowed her eyes on the Lannister, over Yularen’s head – he was sitting, after all. Trying not to fall asleep again. “He mentioned that,” not of any conversation, but she understood what Jaime was getting at. That he had revealed some things to Tybalt, which meant she was likely going to have to give Jaime up to Lymond.

Tybalt would have a lie handy. No one would ever know. Jaime would deal with another set of lions, and they would barely see each other any more. He would still be her prisoner…but it would not be the same again. They would never have an unwatched moment. “What conversation?” Yularen asked, looking to Jaime.

‘You tell him one word, and I swear….’

She should have made tea just to scald people.

 

[peritwinkle]

The Queen did not waver before taking the arm of her King, and even in their time of silence, they looked as regal as any. Caireann did not answer Robb's suggestion about Lady Margaery, but her heart twisted at the thought of it. She did not wish to see her, nevertheless have a conversation with the girl. Selfish. She should not let jealousy and envy cloud her mind, and yet, they were the reason she resented the thought of having breakfast with her.

In the blink of an eye, the woman could snatch Robb away from under her nose just as easily as he had fallen for her, and as much as he denied it, she knew he had seen something in Margaery that she lacked herself. There was a certain confidence in her, something that made her glow in front of him, and Caireann only feared that her glow would eclipse her own.

In that moment, at least, she ought to keep her composure untouched.

So early in the morning, only few had woken up, and with the council soon to start, the Lords and Ladies in the castle took advantage of the time left to rest in their warm beds. Caireann envied them, for her dress was thin and trembled in the cold breeze. The warmth of Robb's skin lured her closer and she pressed her cheek to his arm to enjoy the last moments of their sweet solitude, for as soon as they arrived, they would have to act fornally cold once again.

Steps. Caireann perked up at the sound, and by the time they reached the first floor, two guards stepped up to greet them. One of them, she did recognise, and he recognised her as well. "Lord Stark. Lady Lannister. You are wecome to step in," and he moved aside to make room. Given the steps at the end of the hall, Caireann doubted that this was Willas's room, considering his condition, but let the guard open the door for them and encouraged Robb to step inside first, to the scent of tea and pastry floating in the air.

~***~

Jaime sensed the pride that Lenore radiated through her tone and posture. She was trying to steel herself for the council by proving herself strong before him, just as expected. Still, the sight brought a faint smile on his lips - she was fine, in the end, and would be better as soon as the council ended and she was allowed to properly rest once again.

He caught the way her expression changed at his inquiry, but the answer came promptly and nothing more than what he needed right then. By the sound of it, Tybalt had not overlooked their conversation and already made an impression concerning the situation. If it was proven that there was something between them, without a second thought, he would be sent into another's custody and never have another moment of privacy with Lenore again.

At least now she knew it was his doing.

"I asked about Caireann," Jaime sighed at Yularen's curiosity and bent slightly to stretch his back. His voice was still raucous and his limbs numb, but at least he had found the strength to use his rationality once again. "He was just as cold as his Reyne. The girl resents me still." Not entirely a lie, but nor was it the pristine truth. He had intended to ask it, but while Tybalt still despised him, he could not dig deeper to find the limits of his generosity.

He averted his gaze away then and pulled himself up on his feet to limp towards the chair by the balcony door. The air was too brisk for him so early in the morning, but the light current would clear his mind. "You should try to rest as well," he said to Lenore, "for at least an hour before the council." Maybe it would help her take the news of his conversation with Tybalt more light-heartedly. She was still as pale as a ghost, and the tension in the wrist she held her cup with was quite threatening.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb was grateful that it was not too difficult to find the location where Willas wanted to meet them. Caireann seemed to know the way, or have a good idea of it, and they were expected. The guards greeted them warmly enough, and Robb would lead Caireann on towards the stairs, and up them. There was no need to part from her, and he made no indication that he wanted to, before they would step into sight of the flowers.

The set up before them was beautiful, but reserved and light for the morning. It did not exaggerate itself, but rested before them in light colors. There were roses set up at the table, whites and pinks, and then the vase and clothes were blues and whites, while the tea set matched, and the pastries took on the pink hue, strawberry, Robb suspected, but wasn’t certain.

The tea’s floral scent tinted the air, and Margaery turned at the sound of their steps, and greeted them with a warm smile as they came onto the balcony with the white railing, glowing as she always did, the pink of her dress bringing light to her cheeks, and the cut of it still immodestly low. “Your Grace,” she greeted Robb, “Lady Lannister,” still just as warm and honeyed as her greeting for Robb, then.

She moved towards both of them, looked at Caireann and then to Robb, “You both look radiant this morning,” she complimented easily, before stepping to the side – Robb’s untaken side, and gestured to the table, “We are glad you could join us this morning for breakfast before the Council,” she would walk along Robb’s side then to bring them to the table, eyes glowing, as Robb did make an effort to keep his gaze only at her face.

Of course he had noticed the beautiful rose pendant she wore, and the metal kept glinting in the sun, silver in hue, pairing well with the white trim of the dress. She seemed like a rose herself in such hues, and before Robb could separate from Caireann and pull her chair, Margaery moved to do so, smiling as she offered the seat for Caireann.

Willas probably wanted to, but Willas looked far more regal when he stayed sitting down and didn’t remind others of his status as a cripple. So Margaery took the honor upon herself to seat Caireann right across from Willas, and she would sit across from Robb.

~***~

Yularen took Jaime’s lie in, believing it to be true. He had no reason to believe anything else, never looked back at Lenore to see her glare, nor the way it vanished when Jaime spoke of Caireann instead of Lenore. A conversation that may or may not have happened. Lenore didn’t know. All she knew was that this might be her last few moments with Jaime, and Yularen was there.

Damn the boy.

Damn the ignorant boy.

Lenore shook her head at Jaime’s offer, and was tempted to go towards the balcony, but the chill air could be felt even there, with the door open. “I fear if I sleep I’ll wake up muddled again,” Lenore confessed, as she took her seat on her bed and sipped at the remaining cider. She wanted tea. She also wanted nothing to do with tea.

It wasn’t the tea that betrayed her, but it became so linked with poison that it was hard to separate it as the innocent party. “You really did seven drops?” Yularen asked. He had to know.

“When five stops working, you have to increase the dosage,” Lenore sighed. “But I was foolish to think it was the same without food. My error,” she could admit that. She had to admit when she was wrong with poison. “Where were you last night?” he had been late again.

He sighed, “Sleeping,” nothing exciting. He just failed at night shift guard duty.

 

[peritwinkle]

Caireann's heart was pounding in her chest, shooting shivers down her spine as they stepped into the room engulfed by the morning light. Margaery was the one to greet them, then, looking as beautiful as a rose, in pink and white hues. In comparison to her, Caireann looked like nothing more than a servant, but she took the cheerful compliment with a faint smile of her lips. She did not enjoy the brightness, and was rather disappointed when she stepped to walk by Robb's side an guide them into the balcony.

Her eyes did not linger on the woman for too long; she shifted her attention to the beautifully decorated balcony, in colours that reminded of summer and warmth. The perfumes were just as pleasurable as the sight before them, mixing pleasantly with the scent of waves and sand. As blue as the sky, the sea glistened behind the figure of a taller Rose, back straightened in his chair and lips curled into a playful smile.

Seats were offered, and Caireann was glad she could sit next to Robb. Willas did not rise, but he inclined his head with respect and relaxed in his seat. "We are honoured to have you here," he said, and this time he sounded almost sincere, although there was something that glinted in his eyes when each time they fixated Robb. "Tea? There is lavender, lemon balm and peach. I brought them myself from Highgarden."

"Lavender," Caireann sighed happily and bent over the table to pour some into her own cup. Close enough, the fragrance was almost too strong, and her eyes closed for a moment to soothe the dizziness. Once the cup was filled, she quickly sat back down and drizzled it with honey to sweeten it. Willas was already glowing with satisfaction at her eagerness as he poured some lemon balm tea for himself.

Her eyes flickered to the pastry, but she was not feeling well enough to eat. 'Anxiety,' she thought, 'but there is nothing I have to be worried about.' No, for Robb had not peeked indecently at Margaery, yet his gaze had still lingered on the beautiful picture that she painted, but it was something she couldn't deny him. She was, indeed, superb that morning, and the pink in her dress complimented the fresh green of Willas's own garments, him as handsome as his sister was pretty.

~***~

Lenore was well, yet worry was still accumulating in Jaime's chest, anticipation for something that threatened to soon happen. He did not fear that she would fall, nor did he doubt her strength; he did, however, imagine the dreadful moment they would have to part. If Tybalt convinced her that he knew of their relationship through blind assumptions or fat lies, this could be the last time they saw eachother in a very long time.

He was not happy to hear she was afraid to fall asleep. Aeron had been wrong, but poison could not be fully eliminated through sweat. It would take a day or even longer for her to feel normal again. "You have enough time... The council is in more than two hours," for it was already early, and the castle was too silent for anyone to have woken up already.

Yularen was not in his best shape, either, as exhaustion was written all over his face. Even then, he would be required to stay awake until Lenore and Hill returned from the council to watch over him. "I say you let the boy rest for the day," he offered, "and assign another guard for me. I won't be leaving," and she knew it very well. It would be too difficult to fight someone like Yularen in his state, nevertheless a mature guard. The boy was as frail as a daisy.

That, and he hadn't slept much that night, either, in fear of Lenore drifting away. He needed some time for himself, and that would be impossible in Yularen's presence. Perhaps, if he got lucky, with Robb leaving for the council soon, Caireann might even pay him a visit. He felt encouraged to apologise in front of her, after witnessing Lenore's burst of bravery to do so for the Stark.

 

[Lucyfer]

It was obvious why the Tyrells were Roses, as obvious as the Lannisters were Lions and the Starks were Wolves. They were both beautiful – they had both grown strong and confident, and they shared it with each other, Margaery making Willas look better, and Willas making Margaery shine as they sat besides each other. Willas was colder than his sister, but he was still cordial. “I would try the peach,” Robb said, mostly because he was not as familiar with the fruit.

“Oh, that one is quite good,” Margaery said, and poured the tea for Robb, leaning as always to do so, rose again glinting as it moved with her gesture, and though his eyes dropped, they returned quickly to her face as she sat back, “Do you need any sugar or honey, Your Grace?”

“No, thank you,” he said, and she poured her own tea, the same, not adding anything. Robb brought it to his lips and tried it, and was pleasantly surprised at how well the tea held the peach flavor.

He had a mad thought that Lenore would enjoy all of this too much – and wondered if she and Olenna had shared tea. If it was some trait of the Roses, too, that would even seduce Lenore to their cause. Tea. Why could he imagine that too easily? It was almost humorous enough to break him from the pretty picture – the thought of Lenore being turned to someone’s cause because they had good tea.

They were all too quiet for Margaery’s tastes, though. “How is the tea?” The question was to both Caireann and Robb, and Robb answered, of course.

“It is good,” he said, “Are the peaches themselves from Highgarden?” The flavor was so well captured.

Margaery smiled and shook her head a bit, “I’m afraid not, your grace,” she had to answer, that humbled blush coming to her face almost as if she willed it there. “The peaches come from Dorne,” she told him, “But they are divine, aren’t they? They’re still fresh when we receive them, we are wonderfully close, after all. They influence us more than Olenna would like, sometimes,” an easy smile.

Attire was one way the Dornish influenced, allowing her dresses to become more acceptably revealing – at least in her own land. It was still a scandal here in the West, but that only made it more fun. “Have either of you ever been to Dorne?”

~***~

It was clear how Jaime revealed it all, then. His concern still shown at that moment, as she sipped at cider and watched him near the balcony. He couldn’t turn it off. If he could, perhaps he would not have saved her – or found selfish reasons for doing so. Well, more selfish than what his reasons were, anyway. Tybalt would have read him like a book.

And knowing her….

“Tybalt will have my head if I leave,” Yularen protested. He wasn’t going anywhere. Tybalt didn’t threaten lightly, and like any man of the West, he usually meant his threats. He’d write back to his father. He wasn’t sure what his own father would do, but he knew it wouldn’t be favorable. Tybalt was the nicer brother.

“Rest then,” Lenore sighed, gestured to her own bed which had been stripped and remade with fresh sheets while she bathed. “I can guard Jaime well enough on my own, you’ll do better that way when I’m gone.” Before Hill and she would return from the Council.

Lenore wasn’t going to use it before then. The risk was too great.

Yularen hesitated, but he had started to trust that Jaime really wouldn’t do anything stupid…when Lenore rose, he gave a grateful nod and quickly slipped out of his boots. He didn’t move under the covers or disturb the make much more than what plopping onto it and cuddling with a pillow would do.

He was almost too adorable.

 

[peritwinkle]

The tea was much sweeter than what she had drank before, and certainly better than Lady Reyne's flu concoction. Still, the scent was overbearing, and it was already beginning to make her head ache, in spite of having rested well that night. Caireann took a few sips and placed the cup back down on the table, before relaxing in her seat to take in the beautiful scenery that the balcony offered. It was lower than her own room, and the sea was much louder there, humming pleasantly in the background of their voices.

When Margaery rose to pour Robb some tea, Caireann's gaze shot to the sparkling rose pendant that she donned that day, and seemingly was not the only one. She averted her eyes away as quickly as she noticed Robb's interest and focused on tracing the indents on the cup with the tips of her fingers. Willas, on the other side of the table, broke his relaxed expression into a slight frown that lasted until Margaery took her seat back down, but leaned in himself over the table to come closer to the two of them.

"Never, although I do wish to," he sighed with a small smile and tasted his own drink. "My family is not in particular good terms with House Martell after the incident, though there haven't been any feuds. Prince Oberyn is a fine man, intelligent and cunning... He loves horses just as much as I do." They had remained in correspondence, and he was eager to meet him in person once, if the odds had their paths crossed one day, although with the ongoing war he doubted it would happen soon. Not impossible, still, with alliances seemingly forming so quickly and unexpectedly.

He had taken much from Oberyn as well, from some of his knowledge on breeds and methods of training to his style, even, in spite of Willas's lack of interest in fashion. He had admired his appearance and donned clothes of the same cut and fashion as Dornish attires - a lot of satin and embroidery, deep cuts and robes embellished with brooches. Even Margaery looked regal in such dresses, but all Roses were pretty without the need for extravagant clothing. She and Loras were particularly good-looking, but they were much younger than him.

"You breed horses, don't you?" Caireann perked up and flushed with interest. "And hawks, I've heard... I have never seen a hawk before."

"Never?" Willas canted his head and chuckled. "Forgive me, Lady Lannister, but do they not hunt in King's Landing?"

The girl breathed in and shook her head. "They do, my Lord, but not in my bedroom," where she had been forced to live a considerable portion of her life. "I have always loved animals, though... Especially the larger creatures. My father told me about dragons many times, as well. I was always told they are not fit for a Lady... Tommen has a cat, though, but he is not nearly as big as a hunting hound," and she feared he wouldn't have it for too much longer. Joffrey had threatened the boy with skewering his pet many times before.

Willas bent slightly over the table and slid his palm beneath her own to gently take it into his. "I could walk you around my camp to show you," he offered with a simper. "If the council goes well and Lord Stark allows for it, I could take you hunting one day." There was nothing dangerous in the forests near King's Landing, apart from boars, but he wouldn't get that close. Rabbits were often at the outskirts of the woods, easy prey with some skills in archery and riding, although he would not put a bow in her hands right away.

~***~

Jaime was glad that Yularen had chosen to go to sleep; that gave them a fragment of privacy, even if it wouldn't last too long. It was still enough for him to spend time with Lenore, silent but precious. He needed it, after almost having lost her again. After the almost-tragedy during the battle of Lannisport when he had struggled to bring her heart back to life, it was getting more and more difficult for him not to worry over such things, as little or as grave as they might be, like Roose Bolton sending her into a dark cell.

She was smart enough not to die; vile enough of a creature not to allow others to step over her, but he could not trust her judgement at times, as strong as her power of conviction was.

Once Yularen's eyes closed, Jaime could already hear his puffing as he deepened into slumber. He gestured to the chair by his own and pulled it closer to his, noise muffled by the thick rug. He parted his lips to say something, but hesitated before leaning back in his own seat and closing his eyes for a moment. Whether she wanted to sit down or walk, he would be there waiting, but he still longed to feel her once again. To touch her skin and take him her scent, for as long as he was allowed before they parted.

If they parted.

"Remeber when you almost drowned then?" he let out a quiet sigh, not letting his words rise above a mere murmur. "Because I still see it... vividly. The bush of red hair through the waves, and how I made the decision to dive after you." It hunted him each day and night, thinking of how he could have lost her and himself then, had he not found the strength to swim in spite of the dreaful pain. "I still don't know why I did it. I could have left you die and saved myself. I could have swam towards the surface and ran to Casterly."

Then he would have found a way to get Caireann back, with their forces lacking the great advantage of his captivity. But no, there had been something else on his mind – terror, grief and a sudden burst of anger. He had been willing to save her life with the price of his own – a woman who had treated him like a venomous bug throughout the month spent as a hostage in her custody, while at the same time made him fall in love with the sweet image of a beautiful ghost and an illusory future.

 

[Lucyfer]

Margaery had been to Dorne, it seemed, but Willas had not. Nor had Robb, and he shook his head in answer to her question, before listening patiently to Willas’s answer. He had heard of Oberyn Martell as well – the Red Viper, known for his bastard daughters and his skill with a spear, as well as his poisons, else he would not be known as a Viper. His reputation was almost too well known for one to think he was good at poison craft, but he used it on weapons rather than hide it.

No one would want to be struck by him.

It was good to hear that they were on fine terms with House Martell, though. Perhaps, this would be a way to sway the Dornish to their side, too. Win over the Tyrells, then win the Martells. He tried to keep his mind focused on such things, even as Margaery let a bubbly laugh part her lips, “For all my knowledge of my painted mare, Willas knows so much more about them,” Margaery liked horses plenty and riding, but Willas was certainly the expert in the family. She took some interest, of course – she always shared in the interests of her family. It was why she’d been drawn to Torrent, it seemed such a fine horse, but she could not pinpoint its breed.

The topic shifted then to hawks, and Margaery was surprised that Caireann had not seen any before, either. Robert was a renowned hunter, and she had been in King’s Landing. “The hawks are beautiful creatures! Oh, you both must come and see them, and come hunting with us,” she added. She could make it easier, make it seem like a lady-like thing, “I don’t hunt myself,” she admitted, “but I do like to see them!”

Robb still shook his head, “Hunting out here is not as safe,” he told Willas, “The Westerlands have too many predators,” lions. Literal lions. His own men spoke of them, and the other creatures they encountered when they went to gather game for them to eat. His eyes moved down to the way Willas held Caireann’s hand, and he thought to say something, but was distracted when Margaery spoke, allowing her brother to thus keep his hold undeterred.

“Oh?” Margaery showed interest, “What is out here in these lands? I’m woefully unfamiliar with the local creatures.”

“There are mountain lions out here,” Robb answered, “Rams, some of my men insist there are bears, though the men of the West keep denying it,” Vikary loudest, “there are wolves, foxes, and there are bull elk – they threaten to gore others with their own horns, like the rams. They aren’t afraid of the horsed hunting parties.” But it was the lions that proved the biggest threat, even if they were the rarest of the predators.

“Real lions,” Margaery’s eyes sparkled a bit, “I thought they were nearly gone from these lands. Well,” she looked to Willas, “Perhaps you can just show her the hawks, and we can hunt when we get more into the lands of the King. The worst they have is boar,” she smiled sweetly as she touched her brother’s arm. She didn’t want him getting mauled by a lion.

She knew the story of the Cleganes, and how they were only a house because they had saved Tytos from a hungry lioness. She couldn’t bare it if her brother was torn to pieces – but showing off hawks and some of their skill in the safety of the camp would be just fine.

She looked back to Caireann, “Tommen’s cat,” she asked, “What breed is it?” She had a penchant for liking Siamese ones, with their beautiful, blue eyes, but she had no pets of her own, besides her horse.

~***~

Perhaps a new guard would be needed, one more accustomed to the night. She would have to ask Lymond about Tyros, he had done well on the trip with Roose. He might still be too upset over the loss of his brother, though. Still, she would find out. Yularen was simply not cut out for night shift, and she wouldn’t punish Hill and make him become the night shift guard.

She did follow Jaime’s invitation, even if there was hesitance. The want to be near him, but also the want to be away from him and nurse her irritation with him for giving it all away to Tybalt. It was all going to end…she knew it was, but not this soon. She hadn’t braced for it this soon. She slipped into the seat and shivered against the cold air out on the balcony.

At least this was going to help her stay awake.

“No, Jaime, I’ve forgotten the near death experience,” Lenore let a touch of sarcasm enter her answer as he asked the question. How could she forget it? She didn’t forget any experience. Not the first time with Nightshade. Not the fires of Castamere. Nothing was forgotten when it tried to kill her.

“Your leg,” Lenore reminded him, “You wouldn’t have made it to Casterly,” even if he wanted to. He would have been found, when he passed out, and taken back into custody regardless of if he saved her or she died. “You’d be left with worse company than I if you didn’t save me,” she jested, as if that could be the whole reason. Easier than anything else, as ever. “Except for Lady Hill, of course.”

Hill would never leave. Lenore couldn’t imagine it. She could imagine a hundred things, but she could not imagine that. Or perhaps – she just wouldn’t. Her eyes didn’t move to Jaime, but out to the sea that nearly killed her. “And now you may still lose that company.” She wasn’t sure if Tybalt had already decided. If it was already being worked on behind her back, as she sat in the room, but she doubted it.

Tybalt would need to speak with her first, to confirm it all.

 

[peritwinkle]

Caireann's cheeks flushed as Willas took her hand, yet she knew they shouldn't have. Judging by the way Robb looked at their united hands, he was not particularly pleased with it, but she could not refuse the man. She instead masked her shyness with curiosity, averting his eyes to Robb as he spoke of the possible dangers that could be encountered in the forests around the area. Many spoke of mountain lions and she had heard of them before, but never seen any brought into the castle as game. Boars - she had seen many; they were quite common during feasts, as well as elk.

The imagery of a body torn by the horns of a ram was, however, not an appealing one. She had seen King Robert after his last hunt, and although the bandage did not reveal too much of his wounds, she could smell the blood from outside the room, thick and sickening. She did not doubt Willas's ability to protect her, but such beasts were unpredictable and considering her lack of skill with any weapons, it was not likely for her to survive an attack; horses were fast, but they could catch their legs between tree roots and break them quite easily.

"I wouldn't take her as far into the woods, Lord Stark," Willas said, subtly implying he hadn't extended the invite to him, in spite of Margaery's enthusiasm. Still, he could not deny the dangers of hunting on unknown grounds, and he seemed to have better knowledge of them. "But perhaps, one day, you could come to Highgarden with us," his hand stroked hers, "for the Reach is much safer," and he had more experience there than anywhere else. He knew the woods by heart, with each path and turn. "You would look fierce with a bow."

The girl parted her lips to answer, but Margaery's inquiry stopped her. She gave her a small smile and bit her lips. "Damsel is a Maine Coon," she explained, "with long, grey fur and grey eyes. She is beautiful, but Joffrey never liked her. He said she looks like a Crow," though the comparison was rather odd. "I would always tell him Crows are strong and fearless... Much like Damsel. She doesn't fear stealing food."

They had one pleasure which they shared, then.

Willas broke the touch as she spoke, to pick up the cup and take another sip. He cut into one of the strawberry pastries and gestured towards the plate. "Just like you shouldn't fear helping yourself, Lady Caireann," he smiled cordially. "You seem to have a strong liking for Northern matters," briefly looking at Robb, "especially Direwolves." He would have feared nearing Robb's pet, even with his past experience with hounds of many breeds. The girl was either too foolish or too brave.

"I read quite a lot," she sighed, "Eastern tales and Northern legends, though I still haven't gotten the chance to experience much of the latter." It was only Robb's book that she had read, once in her childhood and once then, when Lady Mormont had given it to her. "It is what I used to do to fill my time when... locked up in that place."

"Cruel," Willas almost growled, and shook his head theatrically. He brushed his hand over her arm then and let out a breath. "I cannot understand how they would keep a rose like yourself in such harsh conditions..." She did not deserve it, truly.

Caireann took a sip from her own lavender tea and hid her cheeks behind the cup. "I am more of a seashell, I believe," and Willas peeked at Margaery from the corner of his eyes.

~***~

Ignorance. It was the trait that best described Lenore in that moment, as she spoke with such derision and bitterness. She knew very well that had not been the reason, yet she chose to dig deep into those scars and took too much pleasure in doing so. "Can you even hear yourself?" Jaime murmured, and his eyes shot to her. "Just take a moment. Listen to your own words." Lies. Each one of them, a lie.

"The moment I saw you there, drowning, I was afraid for the first time in too long... Do you think I cared for a broken bone?" Frankly, he hadn't noticed it, only knew of the throbbing pain in his calf and the taste of blood on his lips in the black water. He had found his way towards her in the moments that green explosions lit up the sky and scattered through the endless abyss, without a second thought given to his decision. Without considering what could have been.

And even then, he did not regret it. The memory of her would have haunted him for the rest of his miserable life, in his dreams and in the shadows of darker corners, wherever he went, just like Rosalind still did. He saw her in Caireann more than anything, in the manner she spoke and acted, in the way the folds of her dress swirled over the ground as she paced and the form her brows took when she frowned in interest or disbelief.

His voice remained low, and in the heavy silence, Yularen's snoring disturbed the moment. Jaime pulled himself up and used the crutches to limp around the beds and towards the door that opened into the study. He gave her one last glance before disappearing through the door, quietly demanding her to follow. It was the only place where they could not risk being heard, and even if their solitude were to last for only a few moments, he would at least have the chance to have her once more.

Just once, to explain himself and endure her scalding gaze, if it meant he could enjoy one more moment in her presence and only hers.

 

[Lucyfer]

At least they were talking fluidly now, and for that, Margaery was happy. She understood she was here to get to know Robb better, as Willas was there for Caireann, but Margaery did not mind getting to know the ‘seashell’ better, either. And learning of the cat Damsel was adorable! Pity that Joffrey didn't like this fearless cat. Caireann did seem a sweet girl in a bad situation – looking for her prince to come and rescue her, as no doubt Lady Sansa was, now that she was in the hold of the Lannisters.

Perhaps this was better than going to King’s Landing….

“I’ve always loved the iridescent insides of some sea shells,” Margaery cooed, “Though, I suspect you’ve never seen a beach and sea shells until recently, have you, Your Grace?”

Robb had let his thoughts be briefly distracted by the image of Caireann with a bow. It was rather hard for him to imagine her with any weapon, really. He didn’t want her to ever feel the need, though perhaps she ought to have a dagger. Like he did. When Margaery spoke to him, he shook his head, “No, when I was younger I would go to White Harbor with my father. I have seen the beaches and sea shells, though they weren’t warm ones.”

Margaery pursed her lips at the thought, “Does it snow on them? Do the sand and snow mix?” It was an intriguing thought now.

Robb shook his head, “Not on the shores that I have seen, no, they do not mix,” the waters weren’t ice, the sand did not mingle with snow. Even to him that seemed such a strange sight.

Margaery leaned forward with interest, “I’ve heard there are icebergs in the waters there,” her eyes could have drowned Robb in that moment, wide with fascination and interest, as if he was suddenly the only thing in the entire world. Or she was. “Is it so?”

“I never sailed out so far when I was young, but yes, the waters can be treacherous.”

Margaery smiled, and briefly looked down, again bringing Robb’s eyes with her, as she mused in thought, “I’ve always heard that the prettiest roses grow in the North. The winter’s rose – a vibrant blue one we can’t grow in Highgarden,” she looked back up. “Is it as they say? I’ve only seen them dried.”

“They’re normal in the North.” No more extravagant, “A red or a pink rose would seem beautiful there.” He wanted to hit himself when he said pink, for thinking of her dress and her, but the way the smile lit her face, he was pleased to bring it to her lips.

He should be pleased to make anyone happy, right?

~***~

Yes, Lenore heard herself perfectly, and she knew too well she was speaking mere half-truth. The full truths were simply unbearable and so she ignored them. It was better when things were light between her and Jaime. It would be easier to pretend they always were, in their future apart. Why did Jaime seem so annoyed with that now?

‘And you were a fool for being afraid. A fool for kissing me. A fool for everything.’ Better a fool than a knight. And she was all the more foolish for letting her gaze follow him as he rose from his seat, and then rising from her own to follow him as Yularen was lost to his own slumber. The study was still, technically speaking, part of the room. They could go there without breaking the rules.

But she knew too well that Yularen would find it odd if he woke. It would be spoken of to Hill.

She should not have followed Jaime in, nor shut the door so quietly after herself. “It’s easier to jest of it, Jaime,” she told him once the door was shut, and she was secure that Yularen hadn’t woken at the sound of it. She turned back to face him, “We have enough lies between us, what’s a few more?” Leaned against the door then, just in case.

She was alive. He had saved her. Those were the truths. The details, the reasons…those were subjective. With Jaime possibly to depart her side, she preferred those half-lies to any truths of his fear or his care. She did not want to hear it, did not want to know it. It only made things more difficult when he forced that acknowledgement on her, when he showed his care too openly. Like that damn kiss in the cell and everything that followed.

If he could just stay quiet...if he just could pretend not to care...it'd be so much easier to deal with the thoughts of the inevitable future.

 

[peritwinkle]

A light conversation sparked between Robb and Margaery, her interest growing the more she listened to him, and his eyes appearing to take in each piece of her, drowning in their chocolate waves. She was beautiful, nonetheless, and knew it all to well as she bent over the table to show it. Her body curved effortlessly and her hair framed it in curling cascades over her revealed shoulders and ardent flesh of her heaving chest.

And Caireann knew the game. She listened, but never peeked, giving them the intimacy they so much seemed to desire. Willas spoke to her, but she never heard him. With a slow shift, she moved her arm from beneath his grip and placed the cup of tea on the table, struggling to keep her gaze on the scenery around them rather than the rose next to her. Margaery was just like a star in the night sky - beautiful and glimmering, but the more you looked, the darker the surroundings became, until she engulfed everything in her charm and claimed you with her beauty.

'A pink rose.'

In that very moment, Caireann's heart twisted painfully in her chest, as though a thousand arrows pierced it at once. It was not that rose she wanted to see in Winterfell. Not the rose Robb had promised she would see, and yet, as the girl donned a dulcet smile, his eyes lowered to meet it with satisfaction. She knew what she was doing to him, but did not seem to care for those around her, and neither did him. It was too sweet of a moment to crush with such worries.

"...to have seen them in person, but I had studied enough illustrations... Lady Caireann?" Willas's voice echoed in her ears, and Caireann quickly looked up to meet his gaze. She had not paid attention, but nor did she wish to anymore. Her heart pouded too quickly, and she slid her hand from the table in fear of shaking it with her shudder. Perhaps her mind was once again overthinking, but why was she so afraid? Why did a gesture and a pair of words hurt her so badly?

'Because you are losing him. Because you are not her.'

"Forgive me, Lord Willas," she murmured, but her voice was trembling with her body. She gulped to quench the aching knot in her throat and blinked quickly. "I must have... I must have gotten distracted." The scents, the sights and the sounds around her seemed to blur then and intensify at the same time. She could not rise, nor could she listen anymore, so her attention focused on Willas once again. "Please... Do repeat."

The man pursed his lips and let out a small sigh before rephrasing. "I meant to say I used to draw wolves as a child," he gave her a small smile. "And I would draw constellations for my younger siblings... I found muses in any essence that was intriguing enough for me," especially women and men, whose bodies he had sketched any time he found the right moment - he had pictured them riding, fighting, dancing and sleeping. "If I am lucky, one day, I could add a seashell to my collection."

Caireann's cheeks only turned redder, but she lowered her eyes to her lap. "I fear I wouldn't make for a beautiful enough muse, my Lord... Flowers are much more beautiful."

~***~

The study was cold as he stepped in, but as soon as Lenore followed and the door was closed behind her, the walls seemed to begin boiling. Jaime found himself once again drawn to her, to the warmth of her body and the scent of her flesh floating in the air, sweet and bitter like her words and poisons. For once, they were alone, even if they risked sparking doubt with their absence, but Yularen was too ignorant of a child to notice the silence.

And when she spoke, he listened without interrupting, fire builidin inside of him with kindled flames. They were living lies, each moment they spent looking at eachother, but he did not wish to acknowledge it then. "Lies," he repeated, "but why does it feel so real?" and without another word, his hands cupped her cheeks to lure her closer. His lips crushed against her, thirstily, madly, as if it were the first time he tasted them and longed for more.

When the kiss ended, quick and demanding, he did not allow her to break away. The crutches were on the floor and he held himself up with one leg, but his strength was only growing with her in his arms once again. "I did not say a thing to Tybalt," he murmured, "not a single thing. But how I wish I had told him everything..." and let the world know how he wanted her. Life was short, and by the end of that war one of them would die, by sword, or arrow, or venom.

He could, at least, make it worth it.

Just as powerfully, Jaime would pull the Ghost to him again, to claim her lips and have her as she was if she allowed this time. Because what was a few more lies to the pile - nothing more than a turmoil of nonsense which they could just as easily brush away in the moment of a kiss and turn it into nothing less than truth. It was his truth, at least, for he only had her, and she mattered more than a rope around his wrists, a knife to his back or a mast against his bones.

 

[Lucyfer]

Margaery knew the game too well, sometimes, and though she could make Robb feel like the only man in the room, she was aware of her brother at her side, and of the pained woman at Robb’s side. It did not go unnoticed how Caireann ignored Willas, even if Willas did not seem to notice it. If Margaery continued in this way, distracting Robb so, then Caireann would also remain distracted. Willas stood no chance then, while the little seashell pined for her wolf.

The rumors must have been true…but so many things could be broken. Margaery knew that. If Willas could just wrap Caireann around his finger, convince her that he was better, then it would all be good.

But to do that, he had to have her attention. Margaery heard the conversation, and made sure to draw back as if she was only just surprised by it all – and didn’t know what Willas was implying by suggesting he’d draw a seashell. She focused on Caireann’s words.

“What is your favorite flower, Lady Lannister?” She asked her, eyes bright and now only for the other woman, as she reached across to steal one of her hands, “I’ve always imagined Lannisters with red carnations, but then, we aren’t always our stereotypes,” she said with a bit of a laugh, “Though I will admit, roses are my favorite flower.”

How could they not be? Delicate, but with thorns. They came in so many shades, too, and their scent was impossible to detest. The conversation followed along the one she held with Robb, but she still saw him blink as if taken aback, startled, but then focused again on the conversation and how it had turned to suck Caireann right back into it.

He was blissfully unaware of Willas’s comment. He hadn’t been paying enough attention in his foolish thoughts of pink roses.

~***~

‘Because I make lies real.’ Nora Hill. Nora Hetherspoon. A medic and not a woman of poison. Lenore was good at crafting illusions and living them, knowing they would all one day fall away. She had lived that way – she would continue to live that way, even knowing this lie with Jaime would fall away, because it was what she knew to do.

Only it would not be swept into the past as easily as false identities or pretty words of wanting to heal others and protect herself. She knew that as he took her lips, taking her slightly by surprise with his haste and demand, even if she had known when she stepped into the room. ‘Yularen….’

A trailing thought when Jaime broke away, to speak of Tybalt. Told him nothing – but still, he suspected something more. That much was clear, and Jaime had been aware of it enough to ask – but he didn’t say anything. Her mind only briefly buzzed with the possibility that it could remain hidden, before she was pulled to him.

Everything. The thought pressed on her even as she returned his kiss, even as she lifted herself up to his kiss and wrapped an arm firmly around his midsection. What was there to say? Between the lies and the truth, Lenore wasn’t certain of it…that was how she should like it, and yet she wondered at what Jaime would have said.

This was how she wanted him, and yet, it was she who pulled away, breaking from the kiss and moving the arm that had encircled him around to the front, hand to his covered chest. Her fingers didn’t move to pull it off this time, though. It was a bracing action. “No.” Not before the Council. Not when she had to be rested and poised. Not when it still might be end of it all, even if she wanted him exactly like this, standing tall and seeming a knight again. Even with how difficult it was to steal moments…

 

[peritwinkle]

Margaery's conversation with Robb was quickly interrupted, in favour for one with the girl, and Willas pursed his lips at the sight of it. His sister saw it all as a mere game – if she could find a way to seep beneath Robb Stark's skin, he would find a way to wrap Caireann around his finger and snatch her from under his nose. It was almost sickening how someone as sweet as her could do it so whole-heartedly, without a touch of regret, and even if she hadn't revealed her true intentions to him beforehand, he could read in it her eyes, her voice, her gestures. They were of the same blood, after all.

Caireann's eyes followed the movement of her hand and quickly glanced away when Margaery started speaking. Her heart throbbed through her palm, flesh ardent and tender. She did not hold her hand back, but instead let it slip from her grip as soon as she sensed her pulse against her skin. "Wildflowers," the girl murmured, though her voice was still pained. She felt as though she were a child, soothed after being scolded, but the thought was still fresh and it ached. "Especially dandelions..." not an elegant choice and not nearly as pretentious as a rose, but she enjoyed the sight of wildflowers as much as she did the freedom which she so much desired.

Her glance moved to Robb, shaken by the sudden change and still lingering after the presence of the woman. Her scent had tormented him, as his cheeks had caught the colour of her dress, and his blue eyes were sparkling with a burning interest. She had not said a word to him, but nor did she intend to, then. She would let him enjoy Margaery's presence and the momentary satisfaction while it lasted, while fighting the lump in her throat that became more and more overwhelming. She couldn't allow herself to show her feelings in front of the Tyrells, but the roses were too intelligent not to sense it.

And Willas's eyes never left her. When her hand dropped from Margaery's grip, he lifted his own to take it, but hesitated and placed it back on his lap. "I am sorry for the bright light," Willas frowned to mimic the expression on her face and glanced over at the sky before looking back to her. "But I thought it would benefit all of us. And the breeze is delightful, isn't it?" He turned to Margaery then, lips pursed and hands clenched into anxious fists. 'Contain yourself. Not here. Not anymore,' but she would have realised that herself.

The cup of lavender tea on the table was left unfinished, but the scent was still potent in the air. Willas peeked at Caireann again, let out a quiet sigh and bent over slightly to draw himself closer. "You said you liked reading, don't you? After I was crippled, I filled my time with books, as well... It took years to build my collection, but I have brought some with me on the road." Enough to keep him busy in the mornings before they departed, and in those moments when he found sweet solitude again. "I could show them to you; poems and stories, most illustrated by skilled masters. Would you like it?"

There was a pause, in which he listened to her slow and uneven breathing, before she nodded and found the strength to speak again. "I would, my Lord."

"Willas," he sighed softly and reached to pour some more tea into his own cup. "But you may call me however you please. Your voice is delightful to listen to, nevertheless." He could enjoy it then, at least, until the council started and he was forced to leave her. With or without Margaery, he did not have to be theatrical to show his interest in her – a sweet girl, caught in the flames of war, in love with one who would never give her more than sorrow and disappointment. That, if the rumours were true, for he did not wish to believe him, yet he still did.

~***~

Lenore answered his eagerness with the same lust and passion, but the sweet kiss did not last for long. He would have kept her in his arms, shattered her thin dress to pieces and had her right there, standing on their feet, but reality came crashing in, and it hit hard. No, it was not the time to show his affection, even with Yularen sleeping in the other room. Not while she was still sensitive after the whole night of sickness and with the council knocking at the door, too soon to allow for anything other than a hastened kiss and parting words.

"You will send me away, won't you?" Jaime whispered bitterly, and his eyes darkened beneath a deep frown. "After Lord Tybalt tells you what I said last night, or what he heard." There would be lies, and she would drink each one of them up without questioning him. The man was known to be kind and generous, but the side of him that was as fierce as a lion had only shown up in time of peril and distress. He had borrowed from the lioness beneath his roof, it seemed, and knew how to use his words as weapons just as coldly as she did.

'Your fault, your ignorance, for thinking you could ever have her.'

He broke away then, leg trembling under the weight of his body pressing down on it, and let his arms slide from around her form. "You want to live our lies... The you push it all away." The poison had muddled her mind, or perhaps affected his own. Regardless of who was to blame, he couldn't allow himself to drown in the sight of her and never reach the surface again once those stolen moments ended and she left him sink. It was not what he wanted, but it was for the best.

Maybe Caireann was right all along; perhaps those ballads that she read, those dreams that she dreamt, they were not all illusory. It only took the right moment and right pair of eyes to lure one into the trap if love, even if it seemed childish and idiotic. He should never have fallen for Lenore, and yet they both judged the girl for blindly following the whims of her heart, while they struggled to parry their own, themselves. They were all children, in the end, who had been hurt too many times, and too many times still hoped for a better chance.

 

[Lucyfer]

Sometimes, Margaery wanted to slap her brothers for their daftness. Here, before them, was a ravenous wolf, and she’d just broken her spell on him to try and make Caireann a bit more comfortable. She knew she could be overbearing at times, but she had seen it help girls to blossom as they envied her confidence and carefree ways. Yet Willas tried to nurture that softness, that sweetness…in front of the wolf.

For now his attention was back on target, and he saw the hand that Willas reached out, but he didn't take Caireann's hand. Still, it brought Robb back into focus, and reminded him of where he was. Willas's intentions. The lovely distraction of Margaery. He had let himself slip so easily into pleasant conversation with the Rose, that he had not considered Caireann at his side, and had ignored her in favor of Margaery.

Willas did not continue the line of thought, and Margaery knew she would have no chance of bringing Robb back under her spell. He did not carry on the conversation of flowers, of wish-making on the feathery dandelions. Did not delight in the name of the flower of choice – the lion. The little, sea-lion. No, instead, he apologized like an idiot, and that gave Robb a moment.

And the wolf moved as Willas let an apology slip from his lip, to reach out lightly and take Caireann's hand. It was brief, and he restored it to her lap, hoping to catch her gaze when the Tyrells exchanged their look. The King would try to shoot Caireann an apologetic one, as well.

He knew then what he’d done – again, right before Caireann.

The wolf spoke now, to Willas, and there was the Northern edge to it, “I appreciate your generosity, Lord Willas,” stuck to formality, as Caireann had done, and Margaery wanted to sigh and huff, but would not.

“He does have a lovely collection,” Margaery concurred. “Do you read much, Lord Stark?” She tried, but the spell was broken now, even if the wolf had drawn his own hands into his lap and away from Caireann’s, his posture indicated a defensiveness to it now.

“I read some,” he said, curt but not impolite. Not engaging any longer. This battle was lost – but Margaery knew there would be others. “I am sure that Caireann would enjoy it more, and I would not mind bringing her to see your collection some time, Lord Willas,” he said, because he would be coming. The thought of some poems being…illustrated, while it was a pleasant thought, was not pleasant when he considered them being shown to Caireann while she was alone with Willas.

~***~

Lenore hesitated to answer Jaime, because she did not want to send him away. She still felt there was enough control over the situation that it was not necessary. Her plans for war were unchanged. Her hatred for Tywin was not touched. Not even for Jaime’s sake would she stop herself from putting an arrow through his father.

Yet, her answer was, “I should.” Not that she would, only that she should. As his arms slid down, she let her hand move down his chest as well, but only a second. Then, she stepped to him, and let it rise to rest over his chest once more, near where he did have a heart. “We both know that I should.”

She sought his eyes, to hold them, to burn them with the fires that were still in her soul, the life that always pushed her back from the many terrible experiences, that would never let her stop fighting. The very fires that wanted to engulf him, but would not. “We know I won’t.” Lies. All the pretty lies. “I was always happy in the lies I told.”

And she was happy with him, in their lies, in their captivity, when it was them. “If I can prevent it.” She would not lie to Tybalt on this. Could not bring herself to do so. “Unless you want it to be over sooner.” It was inevitable that it would still be over, one day. That was the only way she knew that they were not as Caireann and Robb.

They did not speak of marriage or anything beyond. This was…an escape. And they knew it.

 

[peritwinkle]

Margaery's charm scattered with the wind, and it did not take Robb too long to regain his vigilance. There was ice in his glare now, as he briefly fixated Willas's hand to try and read his intentions, before his frozen eyes shifted up to his. He spoke then with a similar frigidity that contrasted with the warmth in the Tyrell's voice, but never dropping his formal mannerism as he did so. Succinct and sudden, he no longer let himself drown in the eyes of the rose that so eagerly sought his gaze once again.

There was a moment in which he touched Caireann's arm, in an apologetic gesture of affection, before his hand returned to his lap once again. She felt his sight on her, begging for her to look and show the confirmation that she forgave him, but she did not share the subtle glance. Her attention was now once again focused on the Lord before her, trying to slow down the pace of her restless heart.

"You are both welcome to visit whenever you please, Lord Stark," Willas returned the asperity with a hint of audacious pleasure. He no longer encouraged his play, but nor did he appear resentful. "It would be a pleasure."

The girl rose as the tension became almost unbearable, and straightened her back before she addressed the roses. "It is quite late already," she forced a firm smile, "and I suppose you do need some time to prepare yourself for the council. Your Grace, if you please," and she would gesture for him to rise as well, daring to meet his eyes without averting her gaze this once. She could no longer let in on her weakness and grief, even if it was already as clear as day.

She should not have let them see in the first place, for it was her duty to respect her King if she truly loved him, and never doubt his feelings for her, yet it had been impossible then, as his eyes seemed to engulf Margaery in all of her beauty and drown in her ethereal glow. He couldn't see the thorns past the delicate petals, just as he hadn't seen the pain in her eyes from the very beginning, but she made an effort to shift her thoughts away from it all. A Queen ought to be prudent and respectful at all times, just as Willas had been in spite of Robb's rigor.

~***~

"Proud, aren't you?" Jaime's voice was low, but it resonated through the walls of the dark chamber. His eyes never left her, they traced her skin and let his gaze burn with a barely quenched passion and anger, mixed into a blend of twisted emotions. "How you can make me buy such a perfected lie. We both know you won't say no to Tybalt if he asks you to have me moved." She would agree, pained or not, and it would make this the last time they saw eachother privately.

The fire in his heart was dying out, and he stepped away from the reach of her hand to pick up his crutches from the floor. Lips pursed, he did not find the strength to look into her eyes anymore, and nor did he want to read whatever they hid. It was in those moments, as rare as ever, that she let out on her emotions, but he was no longer interested in feeding himself irrational hopes and beautiful lies. It was all she had to offer, it seemed, and he couldn't take it right then.

He still wanted to have her. Still longed for another moment in which he could claim her for his own, but knew that if it was their last day together, it would be their last stolen moment of romance. The woman was heartless enough to distance herself from him, and as soon as his leg healed, he would be once again turned into a formally political prisoner, chained and tormented the same way Stafford was, left to rot in the dungeon of his own castle.

"I don't want it to be over," he said bitterly, hint of regret in his tone. "I still do love Cersei. I want to go back home and live my life as who I am, but I can't leave you." Not anymore, after what she had done to him. Her claws were too deep into his heart not to hurt once she pulled them out. "You'll keep hunting me, Reyne, dead or alive," for they both knew she would leave him.

Jaime neared her once more, topping her to gaze into the green orbs that analysed him so attentively. "Go speak your excuses." Hide and deny it all, to Tybalt and Hill. "You might give us respite for another day, a week or a month. But one day they will find out, and you fear that will stain your name and your pride more than it will your own heart," if there was anything left of it.

 

[Lucyfer]

Caireann did not meet his eyes and Robb feared the pain he had caused to her. He needed to learn to balance his attention better. He could not let himself become so easily engulfed by Margaery - or anyone else. It was horrendously rude to his Queen. His teaching of giving people his attention seemed flawed here, for one Margaery held it, she seemed to know how to make the rest of the world seem to be in grayscale. Uninteresting and unalluring. It was quite a good talent, but not when it hurt Caireann so.

Willas spoke as calmly as ever but Robb thought he heard a note of mockery. Then, Caireann broke it all apart by rising and speaking. She gave him an escape. "Ah, yes, Lady Caireann is correct, I do need to prepare for our council." He rose and saw she was trying to catch his eyes then. He met hers, but he could not read what was behind them. His own fears clouded his vision.

Yet, he rose, "Thank you for having us this morning," he addressed them both, "I look forward to our discussion of an alliance this morning as well."

"The pleasure was ours, your grace," Margaery smiled, "I hope you both take care," and for a moment there was a touch of sincere worry for Caireann that shimmered in her eyes. The girl hardly partook in what was offered here. She was worried something was wrong with her besides sorrow alone.

Robb would offer Caireann his arm to lead her out. If she did not take it, though, then he would just walk alongside her to leave their Tyrell hosts.

~***~

Jaime had fangs when he wanted them. His roars echoed with pain in the small room, and when he stepped away from her, she folded her arms over her chest to steel herself. Again, he let his emotions show too easily - the very thing that put them in this situation and threatened to destroy the dream.

It was destroying him. Weakening him. "It wouldn't stain my name." They were better liars than that. Whether she would speak of it as a conquest in public or deny it depended on if the secret could be kept, like Aeron. Either way, it would be no stain. That wasn't her fear at all.

Matters of the heart were another story. Another fear.

Lenore didn't back down from Jaime's gaze nor try to hide, when he came close again. She was silent for a few long seconds, after declaring it wasn't a stain that worried her. She found the words difficult for what she wanted to say, because she wasn't even sure. "I would send you home if you asked. Back to Cersei, and you could spend your days trying to forget me. It happens, today, in a week, in a month. That is your future. Cersei."

Not her. "We don't have one." She didn't have one. "Even if there was the possibility, you have Cersei." And he loved Cersei. "And when you return to her you will not miss me as much." They had known each other their whole lives. She could not compete with that and told herself she was not trying to. "If I let us be separated now, it would be easier. I am selfish, but I know what I have." And what she didn't. "You're not mine to keep." Even if she had said it. Wanted it. "What little heart I have left doesn't chase what it can't have."

It had endured too much loss to be reckless, even if she was. Sleeping with someone and caring for someone she could do, but stain her heart with love? No. She was spread thin enough between Tybalt, Hill, and Sebaston. "So tell me what you want. I do not mind this. I can accept this...but you mind, and despite what you may think, this isn't the pain I want for you." She wanted him happy, one day, back with his golden queen. He had options for happiness. Truth. He could go home, to leave Caireann but have Cersei. Separation - to stop what they had short and let time heal. Or, this...stolen moments in a war, until they hated each other.

 

[peritwinkle]

Caireann was glad that Robb did not wish to stay any longer; she was unsure if she would be able to take it all, from the pressure that Willas unwillingly exercised on her to the disquietude Margaery seeped into her bones. As soon as he rose with her and agreed that they had to leave, in spite of it still being quite early for preparations, she let out a silent breath of relief, but did not break her stern composure in favour of a more relaxed one.

At their valediction, Willas made an effort to rise from his seat and bent over the table to take Caireann's hand, if offered. "My Lady," he inclined his head, and when it was given, he pressed a light kiss to it before letting go without lingering against the soft skin. His eyes shot to the King in the North, brief and cold, before he took his seat once again and followed their movement out of the balcony and towards the exit without another parting word to fill the silence.

The girl did not hesitate before taking Robb's arm as they left together, but her lips did remain sealed, in fear of giving away more of her sorrow. Her heart still ached, but with the warmth of his body radiating through her once again, she tried to soothe herself with the thought that, at least then, he was there for her, even if he hadn't shown any interest in her during their breakfast. Not until after he had noticed his mistake, and that was when he remembered she existed. When his rationality struck, and he may or may not have realised that Margaery had been merely toying him around her fingers.

It was what she wanted, wasn't it? What any woman and Lady would ever want - to become a Queen, to be loved and appreciated by their consort and their people alike. She should not judge the rose for dreaming, but in her time of glory that morning, in those moments when she had managed to steal Robb away from her, Caireann sincerely feared he would never look at her again with the same passion and affection as before, whilst her own love and fascination with him was only growing, day by day.

A cold current blew through her hair as the door shut behind them, solitude and silence surrounding them almost disturbingly. Her heat was throbbing once again, dazed as though she had drank perfume and not tea; she could still smell the scent of lavender around her, taste the honey on her fervent lips, while the tips of her fingers were slowly freezing and turning numb. She knew she had to sit down, pale and weakened, but not in front of Robb; not while he was visibly burdened by her reaction.

'Ignore it, be strong,' she breathed. 'Just one more step, then you may cede.'

~***~

The emptiness of the balcony could not be filled by Margaery's presence, in spite of her almost obnoxious rose fragrance and glimmering appearance. She stood there, in front of him, puzzled or perfectly aware of what she had done. It was one of the two, and Willas still couldn't tell them apart, after all those years he had known her for. She had the thorns of a rose and the claws of a lion, but was merely learning to use them yet.

In his seat, he could feel shivers tingling his leg from having sat down for so long. He wanted to move, to pace around the room and have a monologue on the stupid mistakes that he had one, which had managed to push the girl away so much farther than she already was. No, he knew he had done the right thing; had to. He had been proper and courteous, whilst Margaery had given herself in whole, as she was or wasn't, with the same charm and allure surrounding her and painting her words with such beautiful lies and imagery.

But perhaps there was honesty in it. Robb Stark was handsome, potent and intelligent, but still too much of a child to rule on his own. He might be in love with Caireann, as the rumour said, for the girl was certainly in love with him. His sister had noticed it, and found a way to slip around him and turn his eyes away from her in favour of her own chocolate pears. She was nothing less than a vicious creature, hunting her prey and longing to taste her own victory for once, after having gathered the fruit of her kin.

His eyes fixated her then, dour and curt, as he tapped his fingers nervously against his cane. "Sit down," he spoke, low and heavy, and his gaze never left her.

~***~

Jaime's heart was beating without a rhythm of its own, in a chaotic dance of anger and silent distress. He wanted to yell at her for being so straight and honest, for subtly implying she agreed with him, when it was her job to deny him whenever she got the chance. Her responsibility to annoy him as his captor, to torment and make his life miserable, but perhaps this was simply her way. He did feel far more than miserable then, standing in front of her, so vulnerable and restless without any words to shield him from the pain.

"You still think I want to go back?" he snarled, and gritted his teeth to stop himself from shouting. He stopped, listened briefly to make sure that Yularen was still dozing in the other room, before he shifted his gaze to burn into her once again. "I cannot leave this place, even if I wanted to. Even if I were to never see you again, I would still stay. If not for you, then for Caireann," for she was what mattered the most to him then, not Cersei, not anyone else.

He moved again to breathe in the fresh air, clear from her scent, and began pacing around the room still close enough to her to be able to speak, or perhaps because she still attracted him like a magnet. "I have made a promise to Rosalind that I would keep her safe," he confessed sourly. "To my brother, though never spoken. There is no other truth for me than my love for this child, not even Cersei. That woman isn't my future, and none other will as long as I am part of the Kingsguard." He could have women as he pleased, just like other knights did, but could never marry. Not unless he gave up his position and claimed Casterly.

And there was no woman in the world that he wanted more than her right then, even if Cersei and Rosalind still haunted him. He couldn't have neither of them, as much as he still desired it, for two were Ghosts and one was his own flesh and blood. He could have her loosened before him, nude and fiery, he could taste each fragment of his golden skin and admire her beauty, but just as a piece of art, he only had the option to dream about her and never candidly confess the feelings he had had for her, those that might still be there, beneath what he felt for Lenore.

For Lenore was something else. She was the venom that poisoned his mind, the perfume that intoxicated his thoughts and stung him through and through each time she was too close. He had fallen too quickly, too hard, and there was no way he could defend himself from her allure any longer.

"You will have to endure me until the end of this war, if it does come to an end." And when it did, they would both have to suffer a painful parting of the ways.