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Fangs and Claws [Closed]

Rob was grateful that Caireann took his arm, though he was irritated by Willas's act to kiss her hand. He should not be. Were it Greatjon or Hill, it would not bother him - it was a formal gesture. However, Robb could not get the thoughts of Willas wanting to marry Caireann out of his head, and read into the gesture more than he should. He knew Willas wanted to kiss more than her hand.

The king was reassured by Caireann taking his arm, though. Her warmth was soothing, even if her silence bothered him endlessly. He did not dare to break it on their walk, though. When he looked at her, she was too pale. His grip was firm on the fear she might tip over.

The warmth he enjoyed turned cold.

So when they got to the room, he did lead her towards the bed, "You should sit," he indicated, and would remove his arm from her to allow it, not sitting besides her. He wanted to see her before him. He would kneel down before her if she sat, to look upon her face and try to understand what was wrong.

Had he sickened her?

Was it unrelated?

"Caireann I am sorry for the way I conversed and behaved - I did not notice you were unwell," at all, and that concerned him. Though, thinking back, perhaps Margaery was the only one to notice. "Is there anything I can do?" Apologize. Explain. Get Lenore - have her go to Lenore, rather. Food? He was not sure what went wrong or why her sorrow seemed to shift to this.

~***~

Margaery's gaze lingered after them, after Caireann more than Robb. In those quiet and still moments she could admit that Robb was a good man, a nice man, but no one she would love. Just as she had not loved Renly, although she preferred his energy and enthusiasm to Robb. Robb would bore her - but the position would be loved.

'I hope she is well.' She felt she would have enjoyed Caireann and did so wish for Willas to woo her. She would be a sweet sister-in-law. A pretty, iridescent shell - a beautiful inside that Margaery wanted to see shine forth.

'Sometimes I wonder if I am more like Loras.' The thought caused her to sigh, though it would seem she only did so at the call of her elder brother. She turned and went to sit before him, her hands clasping in her lap as she put on a smile. "I like her," she told Willas, as if he needed to know she approved his pursuit.

~***~

Jaime denied leaving. He denied separation. He had promises to keep. It might be another thing in common - they had personal codes too dear to ever break. "The option is there until the end," Lenore said. Sometimes just knowing there was a choice helped. Not always. She always knew that she could have lived as Nora Hetherspoon and been happy - she denied it.

Jaime would always know he could leave and always deny it. Retain his sense of honor in a constant, passive action. Like the Kingsguard he stayed in - to stay near Cersei and honor that, though he had broken it twice now. Cersei was still the one, at the end, as she was at the beginning.

It was almost tragically romantic.

But even with that thought she smiled as Jaime said she had to endure him still, "Then I will, pain me as it does," obviously not as much as it did him. She knew how to enjoy lies, though. Truth, not so much...but this impermanent illusion was still worth enjoying, so long as Jaime still considered it so.

"I will want you. When all of this is done." A moment's addition, so he would know he still would not be the only one to be haunted. It offered nothing to help them then...just commiseration from afar, if they both lived, and returned to their new lives, shattered after war. He would be alone with it...but the emotion would be shared all the same.

Lenore knew how to long for things, better than she knew how to lie. Quietly.
 
Waves of heat trembled through Caireann's body like Wildfire, engulfing her whole and devouring her thoughts. She tried to part her lips to speak but nothing came out, other than a shaky breath that hurt her throat. Perhaps silence was better, even if it clearly distressed Robb by the expression etched in his eyes. She did want to say something to comfort him, but she couldn't help him before even helping herself, in the dreadful state that she was.

Pathetic. She had allowed herself to show him her weakness and pain once again. It had not taken much thinking to realise his behaviour around Margaery had disturbed her, even if it shouldn't have. It was in his nature as a man to peek and admire the form of another beautiful woman, but it had hurt her immensely. In that very moment, she almost felt unloved and abandoned, in spite of his efforts to show her affection and interest, although those perks only seemed to come when she was unwell.

As Robb knelt before her and voiced his concern, Caireann struggled to keep herself standing. The nausea and dizziness were clouding her mind and blurring her vision; she felt as though she had just woken up from a heavy slumber. "I am alright," she mumbled, avoiding his apology. She would have said that it was not required, but that would have been a lie. Anything that brought one sorrow ought to be apologised for, whether it was physical or emotional pain, and as much love as she carried for Robb, she needed to hear it.

Or, perhaps, it was his voice that she so much longed to hear, those blue eyes that struggled to read her own, deep and passionate like those of a wolf. How could Margaery not be immediately smitten with him? He was the Lord of Winterfell, the King in the North, a courageous warrior and a fervid lover, even if she did not know of the latter.

In a longer movement, Caireann's arms sought to wrap around his shoulders and she let herself fall in to rest against his body and take in some of the warmth she lacked herself. It was more of plea for respite rather than an embrace; her eyes closed in the crook of his neck and her fingers clenched around the embroidered shirt that hung loosely over his back. "Please don't fall in love with Margaery," the girl whispered, chest floundering with her uneven breaths. She knew it would pass as soon as she ate, but she could not push herself to do so right then.

~***~

Willas gritted her teeth at Margaery's apparent irritation with his attitude, but was relieved when she did sit down. His sister was stubborn; often, she would not listen to him, even if she respected him perchance more than their brother. This once, she wouldn't - he knew -, but he had to voice his displeasure after what she had done, or tried to do, at least. She was never one to back down from what she knew would only bring her advantages, even if it meant lowering herself to reach her purpose.

"You like her," the man puffed and sat up in his chair, bending over the armrest to come closer to her. From his quiet murmurs so easily covered by the hums of the sea behind them, his tone had grown louder. "Yet you hurt her without even thinking twice. Is that how you plan to have her endear us? By making her resent you for your ignorance and me for my mercy?" The tea had turned sour on his tongue then as he fixated her glumly.

It was not in his nature to scold; he thought of himself as a more peaceful creature, who solved disagreements through rationality rather than by inducing fear, although one could not fear him any longer. With the cane and the mellow expression on his face, he looked like nothing more than a tall sunflower. "This is not what I want you to become, Margaery. You are a Tyrell, not a royal harlot. You won't lower yourself so much for a title you will never achieve."

~***~

She would still want him.

"And I will still want you," he said, "if I live to see the end of it." There was the chance he would be executed by the end of it, if he was taken from Lenore's custody under one reason or another. Times changed, and conditions were never set in stone, although he had a blind trust in his immunity as Caireann Lannister's uncle. As long as Tywin had Sansa, as long as Robb Stark was in love with his daughter, then he might yet live longer than other prisoners.

There was a tension in the air that Jaime felt to his bones, though he did not seem to be able to soothe it. He wanted to sit down again, but his legs were moving without his own will. He needed to keep himself awake for as long as possible, for he feared that if he fell asleep, he would wake up chained in an empty room again, without a Ghost to keep him company and a pretty lioness to mock him when he groaned for water or mercy.

He found himself almost missing the days right after the battle in the Whispering Woods; they had been much simpler, without his feelings for Lenore and the only worry being finding a way out of there with Caireann under his arm. Now he wanted to leave, but knew he could not. Not without the girl, and she would not be leaving soon. 'Love.' What was love, in the end, other than a blend of painful feelings that ate at one's heart perpetually, until they devoured it whole? It brought nothing more than sorrow, and yet both of them longed for it like bees for honey.

"You promised to take care of her for me," he sighed and bit his lip. "If something happens," during the siege of Casterly or any other time, "don't send her back." At least not until she knew the ground was safe. "Tyrion won't be able to protect her there." Not from Cersei, not if Stannis managed to take over King's Landing; it would turn into a fiery chaos. And as much as it hurt him to say it, she was much safer here than between the claws of an vengeful lion.
 
Caireann Lannister was absolutely not all right and it did not take a genius to see it. She was pale. She was colder. She was hurt in more ways than one, but Robb would not call her on it right then. He wrapped his arms around her as she fell into his, not rising from his kneeling position, but holding her tight and turning his head towards her, the scent of jasmine in her hair, and lavender still touched her breath.

The thought that he could fall in love with Margaery still seemed foreign to him. She was a good conversationalist, and she was beautiful, but his heart was still taken with Caireann, “I will not fall in love with Margaery, Caireann. I promise,” he said, for her sake. He would not question her fears. He would make the promise and he would honor the promise.

So long as Caireann was at his side, he could not imagine falling for another woman, no matter how beautiful or talented she was. Caireann was the one that he loved, so long as she would have him.

“But are you really all right?” He knew she wasn’t, “There’s time enough if you need to see Lenore,” well, he hoped so. He didn’t know how long Lenore procrastinated getting ready for these things, but certainly she would see Caireann if she was unwell. Or perhaps after…the worry ate at him, but he wouldn’t pull away or pull back from her.

He had no right to do that now.

~***~

Margaery took a bit of the pastry that remained as Willas tried to scold her for what she had done, to no affect. She popped a bit of it into her mouth and enjoyed it, as Willas seemed to think that she meant to hurt Caireann. She hadn’t – though she had meant to see how close she and Robb truly were. “If she resents you for your mercy, that is on you, brother.” A wry little smirk touched her lips at that, but she didn’t continue the thought.

It would startle her prude of a brother.

Her eyes rolled at his comment of royal harlot, “I’ll be what I need to be, Willas. You did not seem to be complaining when I wed Renly, and we both know how scandalously incestual that was,” not that it ever crossed that line, but it was certainly there. Renly was sleeping with Loras, not her.

It did sting that he thought she would not obtain the title. “I could easily have it if we would go to the Lannisters. Olenna would see to it that I did – and your engagement to Caireann would remain in tact, as well,” she reminded. “There are plenty of benefits to not aligning with Robb Stark.”

~***~

The truth amongst the lies – no matter how this ended, even if they hated each other, they would miss each other. “You will.” No matter who took hold of Jaime if she died – he would see the end of it. His fate was never in question for her. He was walking out of this, scarred, but alive. And walking.

At his comments about Caireann, she shook her head, “I would not have the opportunity to send her back, even if I wanted to. She is still not my prisoner,” and she wouldn’t be above recapturing Caireann if it came to it. She knew the girl did not have a good home life. She would not see her returned to them, until it was safe.

Until she could be with Tyrion, and be safe in his presence.

And then, she would only hand Caireann off to Tyrion himself, no one else. “Not that she seems to be anyone’s prisoner, now,” a slight shake of her head. “Even if you hate him…at least you know Lord Stark will see to it that she survives to the end, as best he can.” And Jaime had every right to hate him for what he had done, but at least there was the reassurance of her life. Robb would do all in his power to keep her alive.

She moved from the door, to close some of the distance between them, but did not reach out that time. He had cut contact, so she would not restore it just then, "Before I go back out there," because the longer she stayed there, the more likely Yularen would wake up, or Hill would show up, "will you remind me why I should keep you under my custody?" She wasn't asking for words, nor to go far, but something to linger, if she had not damaged it all too much earlier.
 
Robb might not love Margaery, but there certainly was something that he liked about her, whether it was her confidence and charm, or her perfect curls and chocolate eyes. The thought still burnt through her, keeping her warm while her body was only turning colder. She wanted to hate him, but couldn't push herself to do so, if spite of him already having hurt her twice. There was still doubt in her heart, fear that he could leave her and break his vow of love to her just as easily as he had made it.

Caireann's lips parted to answer him, but as they did, the door to her room creaked open and Mina's pair of light steps tiptoed into the room. The maiden carried a pile of clean clothe in her arms, which she quickly placed on the table by the mirror and inclined her head to excuse herself. Caireann closed her eyes and hid her face deeper into Robb's neck, but it was already too late for her not to notice the oddity. "Lady Lannister?" she breathed out. "What happened?"

Concern was written all over her face as she drew closer, ignoring her unspoken promise of privacy when the two were together. The seashell moved then, but only to slightly break the embrace for Mina to be able to see her better. "The sickness," she whispered softly, hands still resting on his shoulders. There was no need to hide her ailment, and certainly not in front of Mina. She turned to him then and forced a bitter but reassuring smile. "I will be alright."

"Lady Lannister..."

"I will be alright," 'as soon as I see Lady Reyne. She will know what to do...' No, Robb would not be able to help in this situation, and nor did she want him around right then. "You should see yourself away to meet your advisers," quiet but firm. She needed some time alone with her thoughts, for it still pained her to look at him, and he had managed to upset her immensely, through his vulnerability and inability to control himself. At least in front of her, he should have tried, but perhaps it was not entirely his fault. She hadn't pushed Willas away, either.

~***~

"You... are a Tyrell, Margaery," Willas repeated himself, irritated with her nonchalance. His tone was still low, but h could feel his insides boiling. "Robb Stark is betrothed to a Frey. He will forget this woman one day, for it is his duty, and he will have neither of you." That left Caireann for him, as the only contender there was, and he would find a way to comfort her through the hardships of their separation. She would learn to love him, and he would learn to make her happy in the best way he could. "You are only degrading yourself, nothing more."

The subject of Lannisters returned once again, and he could feel his mouth dry from already having explained himself a thousand times. She did not seem to listen, nor to him or their grandmother. One would have thought Lady Olenna had a stronger impact on her granddaughter. She should have explained it firmly, without enclosing the ugly truth that surrounded all of them. No soul was flawless and stainless, but they were completely something else.

It was no longer even a choice for him. "The Lannisters are vile and thirsty," he sighed. "There will not be one day they won't try to crush us as soon as they have what they wanted," as soon as their interests are fulfilled. "Robb Stark's Alliance is growing day by day, gaining power and adepts. Victory will follow, soon, and then you may have the Iron Throne for your greedy self without the need to marry a monster."

He did not want to stain his name with the death of a King, for the whim of a naive little flower.

~***~

Hope. Little was left inside of him, even if Lenore tried to reassure him that the lion and his cub would not have a bitter ending. Jaime did want to believe it, but it seemed almost impossible when he gave it a thought. If Caireann stayed, she risked being murdered by some Northener or trampled during an attack. Not even the King in the North would be able to protect her then, as much as he wished and struggled to. He might love her, but feelings did nothing but harm; they did not assure safety, nor did they seal gushing wounds and snapped necks.

If she left, Cersei would have her strangled in her sleep.

But how could he leave her in the arms of a Stark instead of his own? If the boy he loathed so sinewy could make her happier, then he truly might not deserve an inch of her to call his.

The Ghost slowly closed the distance between them, demanding one last memory to linger before they would have to part. It was not words that she needed, but something much more powerful, which set his chest ablaze at the mere thought of it. There was still pain in his heart, an ache in his throat that could only be relieved through a burst, but he could not release it all upon her. Not then, when their solitude was only an illusion.

Jaime's arms dropped the crutches once again to claim her, cupping her cheeks to pull her up to him and crushing his lips against hers. He wanted - needed - to have more than that, but as each second passed he found himself wretched by their future parting, and even as the kiss deepened, even as he silently begged for her to encourage the stolen moment, it hurt more and more. It threatened to hurt for much longer, yet in that moment he forced it out of his mind.
 
Mina entered and their privacy was shattered. Mina saw her I'll as well but Robb's brows knit together as she spoke of it as 'the sickness' - as if she knew exactly what it was. Had Robb been so blind to not notice Caireann was ill? He wanted to speak and ask either of them how long she had been dealing with this sickness, but he was not able to do so before Caireann did.

Reassurance slipped from her lips before dismissal. She did not part from him though, but he understood. She might be more open before Mina, who already knew of this. The article before the word still lingered in his head, echoed in his ears. "All right." He had no one to go see before the Council but he would humor it. He at least needed a larger breakfast.

He lifted his hands to hers to remove them from his shoulders before he stood back up. He turned to Mina, "If she gets worse, please get Lady Reyne. She will be at the Council - after that, back in her room. You can take Caireann to see her, there," he still wasn't keen on Lenore escaping her sentence. He would prefer Caireann go to her but if it was during the Council, he would make an exception.

He looked then to Caireann, "I would still like to take you out to the market, my lady. When you like," she might not feel well enough after the Council but he still wanted to spend the time with her, walking about, enjoying the fresh air. He could wait until she was better though. "I will go prepare for the Council now."

He started to lean down, to leave her with a kiss, but hesitated. She still looked pained and pale. Then, he pushed through that hesitation and bent to kiss the top of her forehead, "I love you," murmured whisper before he would turn to leave.

~***~

If it wouldn't be so childish, Margaery would have imitated Willas's repetition of what she was. Yes, she knew she was a Tyrell and she was proud of it. Prouder than the Reyne. She knew her skills, and let herself instead give Willas a pitying look. "Brother, do you really think so little of yourself that you believe you have to wait for Robb Stark to be done and leave you the scraps?" She completely ignored the words of the Lannisters.

Willas had no right to say them. He pined after a Lannister beauty. Not to mention they had not meant the Lannisters, either. Rumors always exaggerated things. Joffrey might be a monster, true, but she was good at manipulating people. She turned Robb's head all too easily.

"You are a Tyrell," she mocked him, "you should not degrade yourself so by speaking as if the only way you will have Caireann is by Robb getting over her," her smile was light and playful in spite of the words, and though normally she would reach to touch, she refrained with him. "If you want her, brother, win her. You are better than this, than Robb."

She did believe it, even when he spoke so harshly, all thorns. He was gentle and intelligent. He had a flair for beauty and could treat Caireann to a luxurious and happy life. Any woman should want to be with Willas in spite of his predicament. He was still very handsome.

~***~

There was only a moment allowed for Lenore to feel the flutters of fear associated with rejection, but it was keenly felt in the moment before Jaime drew her up to him and abolished all of the fear with his fervor. If she were still too poisoned, she might have worried about the flush of heat that coursed through her in answer to his affections.

Though in the back of her mind, she realized just as keenly that this was never going to be a relationship like others. No mere escape. No lack of strings. Every brush of intimacy and every argument they breathed life into were threading them together, not pulling them apart as it should.

And Lenore did not want to be far. She held herself up kiss him, to let it deepen, as one hand wrapped around his golden locks and held them near the base of his neck. She leaned into him, but not on - she still held her own weight, more for her own sake than his. If she went too far she wouldn't have the dress for the Council.

Not that either would be able to consider it, as the hand on his shoulder slid down over his chest, and stopped abruptly. Just as she was considering the line between far enough and too far, the sound of steps broke the reverie.

Lenore would break the kiss, obviously agitated, and go to the door to open it, "Book, any high book," Lenore said, because it could be the only explanation for why they were even in the study. They weren't both going to get out and look innocent before Hill opened the door to the main room. Best to open the study door and pretend to be getting a book she couldn't reach.
 
Robb's kiss to her forehead lingered even after they parted, pained and worried for eachother more than they should be for themselves. It was as though they were alone once again, longing for the warmth of an embrace rather than under the pressure if concerned eyes. Caireann hoped for some kind of reassurance, which she did not find in his words right then, as much as he had wished to soothe her by reminding him of his promise and his love for her. There ought to be more, but perhaps her mind was too clouded to appreciate what was given at the fullest.

"I love you, Robb," she managed back, barely a whisper, though he was already close to the door. When he did exit, it was Mina who rushed over to her side, hand trailing over the tender skin, now colder to the touch. "I am alright," the girl repeated, but her ears did not seem to listen. Instead she felt her forehead and temples, traced lines on her neck and rested on her arms as though she were weighing her for commerce. Her movements were calculated, but there was nothing readable in her eyes, nothing Caireann could make out on her own, through her visible concern.

The silence did not last for any longer, and Mina did not want to hear lies. "You have to see Lady Reyne," she said promptly before breaking away from her. "You have gained weight... You are pale and barely able to hold yourself up on your feet." It was clear what she suggested, but there was a harshness to it which was almost terrifying, unnatural to her. "I can only help you momentarily... If you ate..." Tea would not suffice, even if she felt satiated.

"No," she sighed, struggling to sit up. "I will eat once I feel better."

"And you will never feel better with an empty stomach," Mina frowned and leaned in to gently press the girl down on the featherbed. "You are trembling and weeping... Is it the sickness, or something else that has caused it, m'Lady?"

'There is more, but how could I explain it to you, Mina?' Physical pain was not the only thing that could break one to pieces; Robb's conversation with Margaery, the rose's indiscretion and his visible interest had affected her, sickened her, and although this state of hers was only becoming more and more frequent. Still, keeping it for herself would be as vicious as reliving it all over again, unveiling those deepest thoughts that seemed to so easily take their toll on her when she allowed them to; they threatened to become louder over time.

It wasn't how she wanted it to be. Not how it had to be, after the reciprocated efforts of maintaining that love. Through illness and fear, she had to fight, and it was only Mina left for her right then.

~***~

His sister answered with her own thorns, just as sharp as her mind that appeared dull in situations like this. Willas knew he couldn't stand by and watch the girl be toyed by the Stark, but nor could he force the love out of her. He had been smitten even from beyond the first moments of having seen her, and perhaps there was a chance of her to have thought the same. Having lived her life in such misery, pained and hurt as she had confessed, then love wouldn't come easily, but her feelings could spring like Wildfire once provoked. It was, perhaps, why she had so easily fallen in love with Robb.

"I was not the first one to come to her aid, Margaery," Willas spoke, though there was hesitation in his voice now. "Robb Stark was the one to promise protection and love, not me. If I want to win her, then I have to do much more than prove my affection for her..." Much more than showing off just like she did around the King in the North, for there was nothing in her heart when she did so, apart from the ardent passion for her wish to sit on a throne, be it made of steel or ice.

Regardless, that woman was the reason he had made the decison to come so far only for a council, without the assurance that they would, eventually, join the Alliance themselves. Willas was a man of peace. He never wanted to side with any of the Houses, but knew he was required to, given his name and reputation. His power, that could tip the scales of battle in favour of those who did choose to join. Otherwise, he would have maintained his neutrality and let his personal Council decide for him, which would have perchance resulted in his alliance with the Lannisters, which would have assured his marriage with Caireann.

But not while the girl's heart belonged to the North. "After this morning, we will know for sure what is to be done," he said and stood up to leave. "We may continue our argument afterwards... If you don't find someone more interesting than the King in the North around here, meanwhile. It is a large town," and there was enough fish in the sea. Although, considering how Margaery's mind changed with the wind when it came to such whims, it would not be a matter of great concern in the future.

~***~

Every inch of skin that Jaime explored with his lips gave the illusion that it belonged to him, and he allowed himself to imagine that for the given moment, for as long as it lasted. He wanted to have the Ghost for himself, to explore her misteries and learn to fear more than just her unpredictability. She had her ways, still hidden from him, that he hoped he had the chance to learn before they parted, if it ever happened. If that war did not bring their deaths or merely his own. Then, at least, he would die without the pain of a farewell.

In that moment, did prefer a sword to his throat than a thousand daggers to his heart.

The silence broke suddenly, and he found himself jolting from their embrace. Someone had returned, or perhaps Yularen had woken up, and their situation was nothing favourable. "Book," he mumbled, but his eyes lingered on her lips, recalling their taste only too vividly for him to be able to snap out of the spell as easily as she had. With hastened movements, he bent back down to take the crutches from the floor and walked past her to reach the shelf.

Her body radiated warmth through him still, a heat which would linger past that moment. Shaking his head, he forced the thought of their kiss out of his mind as his hand reached for a dusty cover somewhere on one of the highest of the shelves – 'The Black Sailors', it read, or something along the lines if. His mind blurred his vision, distressed him as if he had just woken up from a trance. When the door finally opened, his legs were trembling under his weight, but he found the strength to pull himself back down on his feet, with the presumably requested book in his hands.

"This...," he sighed, and his eyes fell once again on her lips before they shot back to her own. He did not want to look at Hill right then, in fear of giving away his intentions or hardship. "For nothing, it seems, since you will be leaving," but he still held it up for her to take and forced himself to stand straight. How could a woman make him so easily weak in the knees? He seemed vulnerable, pathetic even, and felt the need to punch something to regain his stern composure.
 
Robb left her, though he did not want to, and he refused to look back. He went to his room to pull on more of his formal attire for the Council, thinking he ought to look better if only for Olenna. Strong. He didn’t know how well he’d be matching Lady Reyne as he put on a silvery-white tunic over black slacks, and found one of his cloaks lanced through with white furs. He closed it with a brooch of the wolf, and made sure the symbol was obviously displayed, before he exited the room to go to the Great Hall.

The clothing was far too hot, but he wouldn’t change it. He needed to look his part, and his part was King of the North. He had to appear as a King for them, and also make it clear he was making no claims on their lands. He would assist them in keeping the peace and bringing about a new King over the remaining Kingdoms, if that was what they desired – but he would not claim it for himself.

He didn’t want that throne.

Robb found the Great Hall abuzz with people now, though he did not notice any of the Alliance if they were present. He suspected they were all getting ready as well, and he took some bread and eggs, finding nothing truly appealing right then. It was almost as if Caireann’s state affected his own health for the moment, and he only ate half of what he grabbed, sitting at one of the long tables and letting people come to interrupt him now and then.

As it started to clear out from the morning rush, he did see Tybalt enter, looking exhausted, something that Robb found odd. He canted his head, and noticed the man get tea and a scone for himself, before taking a seat away from Robb, seeming to blink away sleep. After some moments, Robb rose, and went to go join Tybalt. He wasn’t eating anymore, after all.

Tybalt looked a bit startled when Robb joined him, “Lord Stark. I did not notice your approach,” he answered for his jumpiness. “Do you need something?”

“No,” Robb shook his head, “I only longed for a bit of company before the Council and you seemed tired.”

“Age,” Tybalt smiled. It was a convenient excuse for many things. He let it fade a bit, “You look too old,” he told Robb.

“I feel it,” Robb answered back. He did not know how far to trust Tybalt, though the man made it seem like he could say anything, and it would be safe. There was a kindness to him, a softness that Robb found hard to believe, considering what he had raised. He wanted to tell him of Caireann and his mistake. He wanted to ask for advice that he did not think his mother could offer, too close to him, too close to the situation, but he did not. He bit his tongue on it.

“I have been there,” Tybalt said into the silence. “Hard decisions. What is right, what is wrong, what is personal…and who decides what is right and wrong. I’ve been old for decades now,” that smile became almost wry, “But not too old yet. We have your back, Lord Stark,” he reminded.

“In this Council.”

“In much else besides.” When Robb canted his head, he said, “Alliances work best between friends, don’t they? I call Lymond and Sebaston friends. Why can we not be friends as well?”

~***~

“Obviously you have to do more,” Margaery was not going to argue that point with Willas. The problem was, to her eyes, he did not seem to be doing much more. Her brother was hopeless sometimes. He seemed to think it mattered that much that Robb was first. First did not mean best, only in pretty ballads did it mean that. First and last loves.

It was never true.

Margaery was jaded, though, moreso than most her age, though she rarely let that truth shine through. No, to most she was the optimistic and encouraging little rose, growing strong! It was an image she liked, a girl she wanted to be, and in so many ways – she was. Yet, there was more to that image.

There was a bitterness that the world did not let girls like that, exist.

Margaery rose, smile pulling at her lips, “If you wish to argue, brother,” she said, inclining her head slightly, “I am always up for a good debate, but I doubt my head will turn to any others any time soon.” Trystane did not truly interest her, though her grandmother brought him up last night. He was to be engaged to Myrcella as it was, and he seemed the sort to need a gentle soul like that – as Willas was.

“I will hope that the Council makes much clear.” For their future. For their sakes. Lannisters or Starks, in the end she did not truly care – she wanted what was best for them.

~***~

Jaime was a quick learner. Likely, he’d learned to cover his indiscretions with Cersei so he knew how, as well. The door was opened before Hill entered the main room, so Hill would be able to clearly see in once his action startled Yularen awake. Hill settled a glare on Yularen, then moved to the study, curious of its activity. He set the tray of breakfast down on the usual table.

Lenore had apparently found a book she wanted – and Jaime was made to fetch it off the shelf. Taller, if injured. He seemed flushed, but that could be from the pain of his wounds, or the strain of reach something up high. Why Lenore was flushed could be poison. Yet, Hill’s mind didn’t want to think of it as so innocent.

None of them should be trusting Jaime this much, and yet they did. “Thank you,” Lenore accepted the book, reaching and forcing herself not to let her hand graze his as she took it from him – though it came close. “I’ll want it when I get back, I’m sure. Or soon enough,” she always ended up reading a bit, when conversations died out and there was nothing else to do.

She had no idea if this book would be interesting, but she’d read it anyway. “Is it time already?”

Hill shook his head, “No, I just brought breakfast so you could eat a bit before,” he stated, “and apparently to see Yularen failing at his job again.”

“I’m sorry! Lenore said I could!”

Hill just pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead, and Lenore walked by him with her newly acquired book.
 
In the heavy silence, Mina moved from her side to poke the fire in the hearth. It did not take long before the room was filled with warmth in favour of the fresh morning air, but Caireann found it to be rather soothing. She moved to light up the scented candles, but the girl quickly refused - if anything had caused her sickness apart from her anxiety, then it had been the strong aroma of tea, roses and pastry, which she would have enjoyed, given other circumstances. This once, they had been a pain to bear.

The maiden then returned to placing the clothes in her coffer, her hands working rapidly but quietly. "Jeyne handed me new night gowns for you," she smiled, "so you can sleep more cozily. Your old ones had uncomfortable trimmings," she knew for they shared the same model, although Mina was more used to them in comparison to the young Lady. And she was no servant, after all; it was already disrespectful to dress her in rags and patched dresses.

Caireann shifted beneath the furs and closed her eyes. "Please transmit my gratitude to Jeyne," she murmured, but her voice was too weak. Mina perked up and, after folding the last dress, she skipped to her bed and sat on the edge to analyse her once again.

"You have to tell me what's wrong, so I can help you," she let one hand trail over her arm again, wavering before moving it away. "Was it the meeting? Lady Margaery again?" The sorrow in the girl's eyes was evident. "If that is the case, Lord Stark has already told you he loves you... Even in my presence."

"One's heart can divide," Caireann answered plainly, but that truth did not belong to her. She felt she could never love someone other than Robb, as sweet and generous as they were to her. "She is beautiful, Mina. Intelligent, cunning... Confident..." and, above all, she knew how to play him, to have him wrap around her fingers and forget of the world around him. "How easily his eyes locked on hers... He forgot about me, about everything..."

As she spoke, Mina's gaze filled with a mixture of compassion and pity. She reached for her again, to pull the blanket up over her chest and brush away the hairs on her forehead. "Men are mindless creatures from time to time," she sighed. "They think with their member instead of the heads on their shoulders. That doesn't mean he is in love with her, m'Lady, nor that she thinks of her as prettier... It only means that her seamstress is a bit more brief with her work."

A simper cracked her lips, but she couldn't laugh in fear of becoming nauseous again. It was what she wanted to believe - that his heart belonged to her and only to her - , but it was almost impossible in moments like these, when her doubt was stronger than her will to see past his slips. However, trust did not build overnight; it took months, years and decades to grow and flourish. They had fallen in love so quickly, so sincerely, but she did not want it to end just as fleetingly. She ought to give herself time, as well as Robb, to learn to understand one another better, even if it took their whole life to reach it.

~***~

Jaime's heart was pounding in his chest, half from the effort of having reached for the book, and half from seeing the expression on Hill's face when he stepped into the room. He eventually looked up, flushed and bothered, but it could easily pass as the aftermath of his labor. His leg was throbbing painfully, the ache lingering in it for far too long than it should, but it was a relief to be able to shift his weight onto the crutches once again.

Naturally, Hill would have scolded Yularen for his ignorance, but the boy couldn't be blamed. He had stayed up all night guarding them; a day shift was already too much for him to be capable of functioning properly. "Give the spoon a break," Jaime sighed as he returned into the room following his Ghost. "He has not slept properly in days," and as much as he annoyed him, the unripe knight still deserved to rest, just like he deserved some for himself.

At the smell of food, his spirits were lifted once again. He sat back down on the edge of his bed, happy to finally breathe without the strain of an aching bone, and dug into the breakfast from the tray Hill had brought along - a piece of toasted bread, cheese and half of a grilled tomato - , but would not eat until Lenore took a bite first. He wanted to make sure she ate.

"Caireann?" Jaime found himself asking, blind hope already building up in his heart. He hadn't heard anything of her in too long, and with the newcomers wandering about the castle, his worries were well founded. There was a chance that Hill knew, given their closeness, but he couldn't be sure considering her frigidity when they last saw eachother. She was as unsettled as the sea.
 
Robb could certainly agree that things worked better when he thought of the people he worked with as friends. He did not see those of the West as friends, and he imagined the feeling was mutual. Especially after what Lenore had done to Rickard. Which made Tybalt’s statement all the more odd, considering he was the one that raised Lenore. “You’re not upset over what I’ve done to Lenore?”

“I am,” he answered, “I’m also upset with her, and I still call her daughter.” Upset with her for more than one reason, “She killed a man you, yourself, wanted to kill.” Robb bit down, “For the same reasons. She has your interests at heart,” wry smirk, “She does not want Caireann dead, but she has other ways of enforcing it.”

“Is that the threat if anyone touches Jaime, as well?”

“Death? Yes.” Of course, “Or Tyrion, or Cersei, or Myrcella, Tommen, Joy – she wants them to live. Tywin and Kevan are the only living Lannisters she has issues with,” for Tywin and Kevan had brought down Castamere. “It’s a simple matter of not wanting to be like Tywin and commit genocide of House Lannister.”

Not that simple. It had taken years to make her see how such an action would make her just as bad, if not worse than, Tywin. It was one of the few things that scared her. “But she must serve out her confinement.” Though he sounded bitter over it still, now not for the confinement itself, but for what seemed to be occurring during her confinement. How close she was growing to Jaime Lannister.

Robb noted the bitterness, but took it for nothing else than him being upset with her punishment, even if he agreed to it by saying it had to continue. “Why did you take her in?” He asked. “How did she get to you?” She must have been young. He couldn’t imagine her young, or innocent, or any of those things, but she must have been then.

“Would you slaughter Karstark’s young daughter for the crimes of his father, Robb?”

Robb looked startled and shook his head, “Why do you think I would do the same?”

“You put your family at risk….”

“Yes,” he agreed, “and shamed myself,” claiming to have a bastard. His poor wife. “I’d do it again. It was the right thing to do.” Life was more important than that, and he had the power to protect her. So, he did. “I would do it for a Targaryen, if I had the chance. What they did…killing the infant, what they would have done to the younger son…,” he shook his head. Despicable.

Robb couldn’t help but wonder how such a soft heart raised Lenore, but it made him smile all the same to know that someone like Tybalt was around her. Advising her.

~***~

The captive lions still played the game well enough to keep Hill from interrogating them. That was enough for now, even if the moment was hardly enough for Lenore right then. She set the book down besides her bed, trying to distract her mind with thoughts of food. With the topic Jaime brought up. With Yularen's embarrassment. Anything but wanting to curse Hill and Robb both.

'You do this to yourself.' She reminded as she took a plate and found something that looked edible - but nothing appealed. So, she picked up bread and what vegetables there were, before returning to her bed with the plate. Yularen moved to sit besides her with his own, looking sheepish.

Lenore felt Jaime's gaze and glanced up, then sighed and ate the bread. She didn't have much of an appetite for food right then, but it was necessary. So, she ate.

Hill furrowed his brows. He had no new news of Caireann, only, "The Tyrell host likes to speak of her because of Willas's engagement," like they spoke of him, because of Loras. "A few have suggested she might be ill, but she hasn't been here so I doubt it. Ah, from what I know, she is doing all right." He hadn't checked on her, "My shift with you two ends at night," he reminded Jaime, "I haven't felt inclined to check on her that late. I don't need to see more than I have."

'How could they not hear your steps?'

Hill glanced at Lenore, "When you're finished, we'll go down for the Council."
 
As innocent as she appeared, Mina was no strangers to matters of love. It was evident, from her advice and empathy, from the way she managed to read Caireann like an open book each time it came to such things. She was the only one the girl could trust with the spiciest details of their romance, and whilst she always listened with interest to not miss any detail, no words got round, and for that she was more than thankful. Even then, in moments of pain and suffering, she knew how to offer her best to soothe her, like an older sister.

"How do you know so sure?" Caireann asked, eyes lighting up in curiosity. "What do you know about men?"

The maiden chuckled and shook her head. "I am not a prude, Lady Caireann... Nor have I dedicated my life to the Gods. That is, perhaps, why they have taken so much from me." That life, to be more exact. All she had left now was her own self, her own truth to know and follow until the very end. "I too loved a man, once... He was an idiot, typical; he liked women too much, and was too thirsty for flesh, but how could I blame him for being just like the rest?"

Caireann couldn't agree. She hadn't met enough men to appreciate what all of them were after, but she doubted Robb was like that. He loved her, after all, even if he required a special kind of affection from time to time, and she did, too. Making love was not an oddity to her, nor was it torture; she enjoyed it just as much as he did, and he never proved himself abusive in any way. "Is that why you are here, alone?" if she was alone at all. She could have just not mentioned him, although that was rather unlikely.

"No," Mina pursed her lips. "He was a knight. His duty was to fight, not love, and he had taken a vow," which forbid him from getting wed. "We fought after I found out he had been frequenting a brothel for a woman named Lyia, right before he was called to duty," and he had hidden his affair for too long, and too damn well. "I yelled at him, and he hit me. I told him to never touch me again, and he did keep his promise," perhaps he would have returned. "He died fighting one of his endless battles that turned his vicious and vile mannerisms into something heroic... And oh, I did cry. But nor did I take honest interest in any other man."

There was a pause, in which Caireann's heart twisted painfully at the woman's tragedy and she wondered briefly how she could have hidden it so well. It was what strength truly was, understanding one's limits and overcoming them through her weapon of choice, whether it was tears or words. She had built her own future without him, and that she sincerely admired.

"Don't be sorry for me," she continued. "I am happy now, surrounded by those I trust. I have a job, even if I am not a dainty handmaiden..." not yet, anyway. "Plus... Women are more fun than men either way."

~***~

Jaime only bit down on his bread once Lenore ate from her own. The cheese was too hard and sour, but he preferred it to nothing right then. His stomach had been empty from the previous night on, since he hadn't eaten a thing, in spite of Yularen having brought him dinner. He couldn't have allowed himself to be distracted from food, in fear Lenore moved without his knowledge.

Hill spoke, and the news were not relieving. 'Sick?' If she had starved herself as well or eaten something foreign brought from the South, Lenore had to be informed. There was no other medic who knew her better than her, but hopefully, her services wouldn't be needed. The Tyrells and their followers loved gossip, and they wouldn't be reticent about speaking rumours merely for the excitement of illusory knowledge.

No, he did not need to check on her, especially considering that last time, he had stepped inside in the middle of something inappropriate. But, "you could, after the Council ends," a silent demand, but nothing close to an order. Considering he couldn't go himself and he wouldn't have her brought here by force, at least a friendly face would be welcomed in her room, given he did knock beforehand. "I want to make sure she's..." breathing, "alright."

As the sun rose above the hills in the distance, Jaime knew that their time was almost up. He had humored his need to steal one more moment with Lenore, although it hadn't been as satisfying without complete solitude. He would have done more, had it not been for the bastard knight and the spoon.

When his meal was finished, he placed the plate down on the table and cupped his face in his palms to steel himself for what was to come. 'Watch your mouth,' he wanted to say to her, but knew it was useless. She would follow her viper instincts anyway, without any sort of wavering. Whatever she wanted to say, she would say it... Then perchance regret it profusely.
 
Robb and Tybalt were interrupted by Lord Vikary's shout, "There you are," the silver lion approached them, looking mildly annoyed. Tybalt looked up with a small smile on his lips. "I was wondering where you were. Everything okay?" Lymond asked. They did usually go to meals together.

Tybalt nodded, "Yes, I just went up to make sure Lenore would be ready," he told Lymond.

The other accepted the answer, then looked to Lord Stark, "Are you ready?" And Robb nodded. "Good. I hate these meetings...."

A quizzical look crossed Robb's face. "Why?" The young king had to ask.

"Cause we could walk out of there with a new enemy," Lymond answered. He hadn't liked going to see Robb either - even if he was their enemy at the time. It didn't make it any easier.

Tybalt rose then, meal finished, "We will see you again soon, Lord Stark." Tybalt told him, and then nodded to Lord Vikary. The pair walked out, the spoon and the lion, and Robb couldn't help but wonder how this strange alliance came to be in the first place. Why these houses and not others? Would others join them?

'When Casterly is taken.' It rang like a promise. There were many who served only out of fear. Take Casterly, and others in the West would certainly join them.

Soon, Robb himself rose to go to the Council.

~***~

'She isn't sick.' Lenore didn't say it. She focused on eating as Jaime quietly panicked. 'It is worse than that.' And the thought that she could already be suffering so early killed Lenore's other appetite. It chilled her flush with the reminder that she, too, had to be vigilant. It had to be caught early enough or the tea risked causing serious harm through blood loss.

Caireann might wish to keep any child but Lenore did not.

The morning wore on and Lenore finished her food, as Hill said, "We'll see." He technically had day shift but...well, Lenore stayed in the damn room so long as Jaime was there. He wasn't sure if it was loyalty to keeping him safe or something else now, though. Either way. She did stay and Jaime had a guard.

Besides he wouldn't hear the end of it if he didn't check.

"Right now, we need to go to the Council," he offered his hand to Lenore, "since you are actually wearing that." Ghostly white dress.

"Tybalt thinks it is humorous," she accepted the hand.

"Of course he does," glanced to Yularen, "if you're sleeping...."

"I won't be!"

Hill just nodded, "We will be back soon." And Lenore offered no farewell but left on Hill's arm.
 
There was something heavy in the air that Willas could not ignore, and in spite of his apparent tranquility, his heart felt restless in his chest. As minutes passed, he found himself pacing nervously around the room, cane hitting the floor with loud thumps in the rhythm of his breathing. He counted, stopped, started over and again until he could no longer focus on doing it anymore. His mind refused to avert from the issue of the Council, constantly returning to it with more worries, more ideas and less hopes for their alliance.

He kept telling himself it was what he wanted, but would it truly benefit his family, his men, him? He did not have a cause, nor did he wish to fight for one, but it was mandatory to leave their current state of neutrality. Refusing to fight for Robb Stark meant they would be required to join the Lannisters. As much as Margaery insisted that they were stronger and wealthier, they were slowly losing, day by day, and with Jaime Lannister's captivity, their only hope lay in the arms on Lord Tywin.

Both situations were rather lamentable from the outside.

Were the Alliance's victories, frankly, valuable, or were they only winning more ground? Their men were growing weaker and fewer in number, especially following Rickard Karstark's death. They could take Casterly Rock before Tywin brought his forces West, but there was no way they could keep it and Lannisport at once, considering the amount of human resources such a responsibility required. With the Reach, they would be a force to reckon with.

A knock on the door announced him that the time had come to make his way towards the study where the meeting was being held. Willas did not hesitate before exiting the room, already dressed from that morning, but he did not bother with saluting his guards this once. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, so he forced himself to maintain his composure. With a bit of luck, his grandmother would advise him well, if she hadn't already spoken to Lenore Reyne. He had a feeling that the Ghost of Castamere had a completely different view on all of that.

He let the guard guide him to the destination, but he did not hasten his walking. It did not take him long until he did reach it, and once the door was opened before him, he stepped inside and straightened his back to greet those waiting for him with slightly more dignity. "Do forgive me if I am late," he spoke firmly. "Your Grace," he inclined his head to him first, then to those surrounding him which he did not yet know personally, apart from few familiar faces.

The door remained open behind him as another figure stepped inside, wrapped in thick furs and glistening armour. He did recognise the woman as Maege Mormont - she looked just as fierce as a night before - a bear embodied in a curt and sharp Lady, seemingly as brisk as the Northern wind. "Your Grace," she saluted as well, "Lord Tyrell," and quickly took the seat reserved for her. "Lord Glover will arrive shortly." There was a wry smile on her lips, but Willas couldn't read it, and resorted to sit down himself and wait for the others to come.
 
The King of the North was not the first to arrive. Interestingly, the dynamic when he entered was Tybalt, Lymond, and Roose, and they were all as silent as the grave. When Robb entered, Tybalt did smile at him, and Lymond offered his own salutary greeting. Roose gave a simple nod of acknowledgement, and then, the others began to arrive. Olenna was there early enough, greens and golds adorning her. She looked a true rose of Highgarden, not wilted at all by age.

Following her was Ser Hill and Lady Lenore. There was a tension felt when Roose moved off the wall he was leaning on, but it did not last.

Did not break into words.

Lenore smiled at him, and took a seat besides Tybalt. Ser Hill remained standing, not sent out, and Robb did not dare to. He may be a ‘Hill’, but it was becoming painfully evident to Robb that ‘Ser’ wasn’t even a fit title for what he meant to the Alliance in his own way. He wondered, briefly, if Ser Hill was set to inherit much after all this was done, and Lenore held the west. Would he become a Lord?

He looked a Knight still, more than a lord. A guard, still, though Robb was now keenly aware he meant much more, even as he leaned back against the wall besides Lenore in a posture that imitated Lord Bolton – arms crossed over his chest, scowl on his lips.

Then came Willas, and follow him, Lady Mormont. Robb’s greetings were non-verbal, nods. The roses were together, of course. The north, together. Robb wondered briefly if he should think to mix things better in the future, Tybalt’s talk of friendship lingering. It would be better if they were more unified, and not so separated by location. They should be united – they were fighting the same war.

The Greatjon would come next, alongside Tallheart, which just left Glover. “What is Lord Glover doing?” Robb had to ask with a sigh, after a few more moments passed without the arrival of the Lord.

For that matter, where was his mother?
 
Maege hesitated before she addressed the King in the North. She did not wish to mention the quarrel between Catelyn and Glover from that morning, but she couldn't lie to him about it, either. She had left the two alone after breakfast, to come and join her in the Council when they were finished, and now she profusely regretted that decision.

It was when her lips parted that the door opened once again, to allow for Lady Stark to step inside, closely followed by Lord Glover. The woman went straight to her seat next to Robb, whilst the other sat to the right of the She-Bear. "King Stark," the man muttered lowly, and averted his gaze from the others in the room as though he were a shy maiden. He turned to Maege then, pursed his lips and gave her a shrug. "A stern woman, the Tully," quiet enough for her ears only.

"Please proceed," Catelyn told Robb with a certain firmness in her voice. She wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, and with the incident from that morning her mind was already clouded with worries. When she did look up, her eyes found the figure of Lenore Reyne. 'A good decision.' It meant he had found a way to get over his vanity for once; she only hoped that the woman wouldn't compromise their chances if she still held a grudge on Robb.

It was strange to see the whole Alliance united once again, but not displeasing. Most of them looked radiant and full of hope, although their happiness was visibly muddled by the thorns of the Roses in the room, threatening to poke at them. Willas Tyrell and Lady Olenna carried similar expressions on their faces, frigid but focused, with their weapons prepared to attack. She was surprised, however, that Lord Mace was not there, even if she hadn't seen much of him around. He hadn't been the one to greet her when she first set foot in their camp, nor had he been there to advise his kin on whether to join the Alliance.

She, at least, trusted that both representatives were rational enough to make the right choice.

'Tell them why they should be here,' Catelyn's heart pounded energetically. 'Tell them why the North is to be trusted, why we are worthy of their help, and not the Lannisters,' for she had consumed all of her points already. It was up to him to speak now, and the rest of the Alliance to support him as well as they could. 'Tip the scales, and bring this war to an end, Robb. Be their King.'
 
Before Maege could speak, the missing pair arrived. Glover looked chastened and Catelyn seemed tense as she went right to her seat. Robb gave a nod as he was directed to speak and looked all of them over. They were almost complete - sans Lord Farman, but hopefully he would be bringing them more allies. They could have more meetings like this. They would topple Joffrey.

"Lords and Ladies, of the North, the West, and the Reach," Robb opened. "I welcome you all this morning to discuss the matter of Joffrey Lannister's reign," he would not legitimize him by calling him Baratheon. His father had died when he recanted it. Robb would not make that error. "As well as the future of the North and the other remaining kingdoms."

"Without their representation?" Olenna interrupted, throwing Robb off momentarily. He was used to presenting more, all at once.

"Yes," Lenore spoke in the space, "Lord Farman seeks their alliance and representation. Those who support us will be rewarded. Those who fight will be punished. Those who are silent will be given no voice." Fitting consequences to each.

Olenna let her lips twist a bit into a smile, then settled back to let Robb continue.

Robb did, "Joffrey Lannister is not a proper king. My Lord and Lady Tyrell know this already, as before your stated neutrality, you intended war against him alongside Renly Baratheon." He would not say Joffrey was improper because he was illegitimate. That would mean he should be throwing in with Stannis. Obviously he would not be doing that. "Renly may have been a good king, but I will leave the decisions of inheritance to you who will be led by them, so long as they will respect Northern sovereignty."

Obviously. If they didn't then that meant another war. "If you stand by your neutrality and do not oppose the Lannisters, then you are supporting a king who promises mercy but displays cruelty. He has shown no care for his people, and has no respect for his peers, nor women in particular," it reached Robb's ears how carelessly he had dismissed what Cersei and Sansa wanted, calling them weak - because they were women. "You have been ruled by a mad king before, a product of incest. Joffrey will only get worse. He did not learn the lessons of his predecessor - that people make a king, not blood or gold. They are your servants, and Joffrey has already proven himself an ineffective and cruel leader who cannot be trusted."

He only needed to convince the Tyrells and they had acted against the king before. They knew he was not the best option. "I am not unaware of the future consequences of this to your home. I will see to it that when this war is won, the North will aid its allies in rebuilding and restoring themselves. Winter is coming. We will need each other through it," even if they were not unified under one king. "It is not my goal for the North and South to live in animosity towards each other, only that we live under separate rulers - but like us and many cities in Essos, we should be at peace with each other when this ends and in good standing."

He truly had no ill intent for them and he cared for their future. It would inevitably affect the North, after all. "Tell me what concerns you have over this alliance," Robb opened the floor then to the Tyrells.
 
There was no wavering in Robb Stark's voice as he addressed the Council. He spoke like a true king, and although Willas couldn't tell whether those were his words or not, he had to admit he agreed with every bit of it, and he was sure so did his grandmother. Joffrey was a Lannister as much as he was a Tyrell, the offspring of an incestuous relationship, and nothing less than a monster. He was not fit for a ruler, and even if he respected the golden lions for their faith in their family and moral strength, he couldn't give credit to the boy.

It was not recklessness that made a good King, but his ability to listen to his elders, to understand and empathize with those whom he serves. Joffrey thought of himself as superior to others, which is the fundamental flaw that characterizes him, as well as the reason why he would never be able to develop as a rational human being in the future. He was vile, idiotic and far from what his family represented.

And whilst he wanted to dominate, Robb Stark wanted to serve. He was there for his people, just and fair, which did seep some envy into Willas's heart.

At his offer, he was the first to speak, before his grandmother got the chance to part her lips. "How could I be certain that this is the right choice, Your Grace?" As the leader of his army, it was his duty to represents his people in their wishes and rights. "I am a man of peace, but whilst I do not believe that supporting the Lannisters is the right choice, there is a chance of this Alliance to be crushed under the foot of Tywin Lannister." He was an intelligent man, skilled commander and as strong a lion as any. "I want to be sure I am not risking my people for nothing."

Honour wouldn't suffice.

It was not honour that fed the mouths of his people and protected his family.

Catelyn Stark turned to him then, expression firm but not cold. She spoke with slight cordiality, "You do not have that assurance. We do not know what the Gods have in mind for us, but I do believe it is the right choice to make," and the only, since they wouldn't join Stannis Baratheon considering his rivalry with his brother that had carried on past his death. The Tyrells were kind and merciful, but just like the North, they did not forget as easily.

"For you it is, my Lady, but you forget that the Gods are not as generous as one may think. We cannot bring this war to an end on empty promises and hopes of a better world," for it was clear there would never be such thing as peace. Not while there was still an Iron Throne to be desired, not while so many others battled for it and threatened them from the East, pretenders who either defended their self-claimed rights or fought to achieve them.

"There is a risk in every choice, Lord Tyrell," Cat said promptly. "If we fall, you will fall as well under the sword of Tywin Lannister," and if he fell, Robb would find himself in need to declare war with the Reach, if they still opposed his cause. "It is up to you to weigh what is good and what is bad," and she looked to Olenna then, "for your future lay in your own hands, as well as ours."
 
'Remember they may be allies.' Lenore said, before she addressed Willas. No one told him what he was risking his men for, only that they couldn't guarantee the future. "You are risking your men to establish the foundations for a better future for them. You may not currently be as affected by Joffrey's rule, but when this war ends, if he is left standing, you will have to answer to him as his vassal. Your people will be taxed for his whims as they were for the late Baratheon, only he may not be near as kind and simply go to his grandfather for the gold. Then, who knows how else he may take advantage of his people." A simple shrug, "but you do know he is not good. Joining us gives you hope for a future you can direct. A voice in it."

Lenore cut her eyes to Olenna, "The choice is yours, of course. Just consider if you would prefer your people to live under the reign of Joffrey, or if you would rather fight for a chance at something better. We cannot offer guarantees, though our present should speak well of our future. We have won our battles. We have gained ground. We will gain more of it."

"Will?" Olenna gave a huff, "I thought you couldn't predict the future?"

"Varys isn't the only one with birds, lady Tyrell, but that is all I can say. We aren't allies just yet."

"Hm." Shrewd enough. Confident in her information as well, but Olenna saw the division in gazes. The West did not appear to question it, but Robb's eyes flashed to her. Roose's narrowed. "You both speak a lot of good words," Olenna noted, "but you are earning a reputation as clever as Tywin," because that was how to get under her skin. Make the hackles of the lion rise, "and the Reynes aren't known for paying their debts, are they?"

"They were known for generosity. It used to rain in Casterly if I am not mistaken." Just the hint of a smirk.

Olenna still liked her. Calm and poised when insulted then. Brought it right back to her favor. "Fair," she had to give her that. Ellyn had been loved. "But you killed Lord Karstark, whom Robb was sending to the Wall. If we align, how do we know we can trust you not to kill others on a whim?"

"I followed my own code in killing Lord Karstark. A mistake, perhaps, but Lord Stark and myself are working together to come to a better understanding of the boundaries and overlaps of our alliance. We will make it clear between us, as well." They were not working on it - but they would.

It was an answer that satisfied Olenna in the moment as she turned her thorns on Robb, "And you - men turning against you. Whispers of you being an oath breaker. You say Joffrey promises one thing and does another - how are you any better?"

Robb never reacted as well. Answering was confirming before Willas he was an oath breaker - he intended to be.

"We are all oath breakers in this room, Lady Olenna," Tybalt said, "you in aligning with Renly. Us, against Tywin. It matters what oath is broken and why, not that one was."

Rob nodded, suddenly quite grateful for Tybalt. The West was eloquent - besides Lymond - Robb could learn. "I may have broken some oaths, as we all have, but my men are not starved. My people do not fear me. I offered mercy to Lord Karstark. I am in pursuit of what is right and I am heeding the council of many around me, Lady Tyrell. I agree that oaths exist to be kept, but we have all experienced times when they cannot be. I do not take them lightly if that is what you fear."
 
Maege could not tell what had changed between the North and the West, or if Robb had anything to do with it, but she was more than pleased to see how they came to his aid when the roses showed their thorns. She, as a bear, appeared harmless in comparison to them; they were as beautiful as they were vicious, especially Olenna. Her grandson was more quiet, but he also seemed slightly more calculated. Vulnerable, but stern. They were similar, and yet so different.

He made no further comments when Lenore proved her point regarding whether joining them was the right choice. Olenna did not appear displeased with the answer, either, and instead pointed her weapons at Robb, who flustered and wavered before Lord Tybalt spoke in his place. It was not the time nor the convenient situation to bring up the issue of his slip, but it did concern the Tyrells in one way or another. Caireann Lannister was now a common subject of discussion among them.

Her hand in marriage, as well, which was as amusing as it was pitiful.

"None of us is clean of sins," Willas agreed with Robb, and turned his eyes to look at his grandmother. Caireann might belong to him now, but with an alliance they would build a possibly brighter future ahead of them. "His life choices have nothing to do with our Alliance." Her, too, would have wavered if Margaery's hand in marriage was demanded by someone like Walder Frey for a mere pass to cross his bridge. It wasn't a fair trade, but it had gotten them the chance to reach Seagard in time and take Lannisport before Tywin could have mustered his forces in around the city.

When his gaze found the King in the North once again, they analysed him for a moment, weighed his thoughts and words before parting his lips to speak. "You are as honourable as I have heard your father is, Lord Stark," the man admitted. "Your cause is rightful; we all hope that your sister will be brought back home from the claws of the lions. Justice must be made, and I suppose you do realize the position that you currently find yourself in." He needed them if he had any intentions to pursue what he had started.

"A position of power and weakness, all the same," Catelyn spoke before him, bitter but sincere. "We have all made mistakes which we have had to pay for," Karstark for defying Robb, Lenore Reyne for acting against his orders, "but what we seek is redemption. We find ourselves in need to mobilize ourselves as soon as possible," and steel themselves for a possible attack. "In this Alliance, we are all different, but more or less united, which is not what I could say about our enemy. You may rest assured that His Grace - us - will remain loyal to you as long as you promise the same."

The Starks were asking for allegiance, faith and creed, and with oaths broken or sealed, Willas wanted to believe them. He wanted to think that it was for the better. The West had turned against the Lannisters for a reason - their trust in the Lenore Reyne, maybe, their symbol of rebirth and survival. Whether they joined or not, their hope would not be quenched, and their courage and devotion was what gave them their appeal and aroma. What inspired confidence instead of doubt.

His decision was taken, and now he waited for the confirmation of his grandmother. Perhaps it was his resentment for the lions that convinced him of the rectitude of those before him, or his affection for the girl, but he had no intentions to step back right then. Catelyn Stark had, once again, earned his respect.
 
‘His life choices do concern us, Willas. They define him more than his desperate words before a council.’ Olenna thought, but she did not speak that. As before, it seemed, her grandson had already made up his mind. Too quickly, in her opinion. She would have preferred to speak also with the other two, and then with some of the other Lords and Ladies of the Reach. Yet, Olenna could see that his mind was already made up in the way his posture shifted after Lady Catelyn spoke.

Margaery would have preferred to mount the lions and possibly ride them over a cliff.

Willas favored the wolves, with the red lioness, and the bastard Loras was fascinated with. Though, in truth, Olenna suspected it was Caireann he preferred, and he wanted to make her happy. He knew by now she favored the wolf, which spoke quite a bit – that she would turn on her family to side with the enemy. It spoke to the character they were fighting against.

‘Well, at least of Cersei and those.’ Olenna had measured Tywin’s character long ago, and she measured Lenore the same – not lions but snakes in lion’s fur. She had measured Eddard’s before, as well, and she found Robb wanting. He was not as honorable as his father, but perhaps one day, he would be.

“Well,” Olenna huffed, “You all speak very well,” she confessed, “and you seem to understand the situation you are in, so you’re not half-witted,” she’d give them that. “I have never cared much who sat the Throne so long as they let us be, but in this case, they may not let us be, even if we pick neutrality,” Joffrey would see it as a slight to his authority, “and what happened to Lord Eddard Stark was a tragedy. What is occurring to Lady Sansa Stark is monstrous. What happened to the Reynes was equally so, no matter the justifications Tywin has used. So, I suppose, given the history of the Lannisters to make examples of others and their history of cruelty, I will say that I feel the cause is just, and I can see us forging an alliance to change our future so we don’t end up made an example of.”

Even if they failed, there was the chance they might find their way into the good graces of the Throne. Small, but there – the Tyrells were still a powerful house with much to offer.

Robb Stark gave her a smile, “Thank you, Lady Tyrell,” he said, before he cast his eyes to Willas to see if he would support his grandmother’s words. If this would be formalized then, or if more time would be needed.
 
It appeared that his grandmother had read them well, for in her speech she directly agreed with joining the Alliance and supporting their cause. Willas was glad that there was no more debating; he did not wish to go against his grandmother, even if he knew she were more intelligent and calculated than him. He would have fought to achieve this until the end, and knew Margaery would one day learn to understand his point of view. The girl only wanted to be Queen, after all, and she had better chances ahead of her this way, with or without Robb Stark.

For the first time, he thought, the King in the North smiled, and it was then that Willas was assured he had done the right thing. They were all desperate, in the end, the man to fill the whole of a broken alliance and him to secure the safety of his people. The Reach represented too big of a force to stay out of that war, and he truly wanted to aid in changing the miserable future that the Lannister legacy promised through Joffrey's reign.

Perhaps, one day, he would be King himself.

It was illusory, but not impossible. They would grow, and if things went well, as soon as the North prevailed his men would be honoured with ranks and titles. If they defeated Stannis Baratheon in the end, their only true ene,y would remain Daenerys Targaryen who was, however, still too insignificant to bear them in battle, nevertheless declare war on the entire Alliance. The North would be broken away from the rest of the lands, but the union between the Westerlands and the Reach would remain valid through time.

"Then, I believe there is no more time to waste," Willas straigheted his back and pursed his lips to quench a simper. "If my grandmother, too, considers joining you is the right choice, as I do, then bring the ink and parchment," he gestured theatrically towards the table.

"An eager man," Maege Mormont smiled, crossing her arms at her chest.

"This way, we stand a chance to take Casterly Rock before the arrival of Lord Tywin Lannister," he shrugged. "Is that not what you wish, Your Grace? Lady Olenna, your call, if you agree with me." Casterly was the seat of power in the Westerlands, and it was too close to Lannisport not to take, given the right circumstances. Lack of proper defence would only turn the odds in their favour, but with their men they were sure to outnumber whatever the old lion had - less than twenty-five thousand swords. The Alliance would now have over thirty.
 
No time to waste. Robb quite liked hearing that, and hearing how Willas confirmed that they should move quickly to take Casterly Rock. He even saw Lenore smile at the mention of it, the green eyes dancing like wildfire at the thought. Perhaps she had birds that told her how easy it would be – or perhaps she had done something herself to insure it, with or without the Tyrells, but this certainly pleased her.

Pleased everyone in the room, though Lord Bolton remained, as ever, difficult to read. “Nothing wrong with eager in this case,” the Greatjon commented to Lady Mormont, as their king did indeed go to get the parchment, to write out the words for the alliance more formally. This last time, Lenore had brought it – but she was the one seeking peace. This time, it was Robb who brought it to the Tyrells, and so Robb who would write it.

“Oh yes,” Olenna said, “It will be more of a symbolic victory at this point, but symbols are proving quite powerful in this war – and I suspect some in the Westerlands will flock to whoever holds it,” meaning, of course, those holdouts who disliked Tywin but were too afraid to join the alliance when it started. Now they would be presented with a true show of power. Casterly and Lannisport, “And it’s what you want next, isn’t it?” A glance to both Robb and Lenore.

“Yes,” Robb answered, his hand busy with writing, his answer unapologetically short.

“I’d prefer others,” Lenore answered. Prefer to put Casterly to the torch, in truth, “but until then, Casterly will work.” Holding it, as she held Jaime, would have to make Tywin mad. Especially if his brother were there, and she could send her next letter with Kevan’s seal on it, telling him that Kevan was dead.

Olenna smirked at that answer, and Robb finished with writing out the formal words, and signed his name to it, then motioned to both Lenore and Willas. The document was binding in its way – it spoke of their agreement on that day, to work together against Joffrey Lannister, called Baratheon, and those who supported him. Northern sovereignty would be acknowledged after the war had ended. The South would be left to select its own leader, while the North assisted in the rebuilding process.

These were the stated terms of agreement.

Lenore put her own name to it after Robb, and then the quill was offered to Willas to do the same, and formalize the agreement as the heads of each side signed their name to it, and so signed their forces to the cause.
 
Symbols were the foundation that kept that war flowing for them; they were the reason the Starks had gained so many adepts, for their infamous honour and noble background. The Reyne, another leader, was the Ghost of Castamere, who had managed to turn the West against their overlord with nothing more than words. All that was left was to show the Tyrells' thorns to the world, for they were a symbol of their own - purity and strength. That which was needed to cleanse the lands of the aftermath of the ongoing war.

And, one day, perhaps there would be peace. If those ideals fit together and they built strong relationships between them, no pretender to the Throne would ever dare to raise their swords at them. It wouldn't take long for the rest of the West to join their cause, and Willas was more than sure that after the siege of Casterly Rock, many would understand, at once, that the lions no longer had a golden legacy ahead of them.

It would die with Joffrey Lannister first.

As Robb Stark began writing the terms of their union, Willas couldn't help but wonder if they weren't, in fact, more similar than it appeared. He was the King in the North, but still a boy who had matured too quickly, too abruptly, and sought to find internal peace and protect those that he loved. In that moment, he wanted to hate him but simply could not; he wanted to resent him for picking the flower that had grown for him, for being so kind and ethical. Loyal. He had everything which Willas strived for, and whilst he sought envy in his heart, he only found admiration.

Once the terms were written, he took them from his hand and read them more than once, to make sure he did not skip anything important. It was clear, then, that the man had no desire to take the Iron Throne, but merely wished to reign over his home and protect it from the rest of Westeros with its declared independence. Written, it was secured, and he was glad that they would have the freedom to choose whomever they found worthy once the war ended.

Quill in his hand, he signed his name beneath the others and handed it to his grandmother to do the same, and those after her. "May the Gods favour us all," he spoke under his breath, for he knew he had taken the right decision, but his fate was still in the hands of those who mended the realm. And if they were to fall, then at least they would know they had fought for a cause, and one honourable enough to die for.

"They will, Lord Tyrell," the She-Bear smiled, content written in her eyes. She rose from her seat and rested her hand on the hilt of the sword she still carried. "This day shall be cherished," she looked to Robb then, "to thank those who have come to our aid, who have deemed our ground venerable and have opened a new array of possibilities before us," for there would be many victories if the roses remained loyal, and Maege knew they would.

The Gods were, indeed, in their favour that day.
 
Willas was prudent in reading over the terms again and again, before he put his name to the paper and sealed his fate. The pleasure in the room was palatable. Olenna signed with a heavy sigh- war was a headache. Then Tybalt, and on down the line so that the alliance was formalized with most of the leaders. Maege and Willas spoke of gods.

"They haven't abandoned us yet, even beyond the North - so perhaps all the Gods favor our cause." Robb could hope. Plenty here followed the new gods - he suspected those devout of the West and of the Reach. "I will arrange to have a feast tomorrow evening in honor of our alliance, then we will begin preparations for moving against Casterly Rock. As far as my scouts have seen, Lord Tywin is not yet near."

"Mine would confirm that," Lord Lymond added. None of his had yet noticed Tywin far from King's Landing. "So the quicker we are able to move, the better." Not that he opposed a feast, but it would be a lot nicer in Casterly. Well, they would probably have another there.

"And you will have to share what your birds know," Olenna addressed Lenore.

The Ghost smiled, "Come up for tea again - we have much more to plan for the South as it is."

Olenna wanted to debate that - hear it then, but she had seen the looks. The division. Robb did not speak openly or call her out on it, likely because he preferred to avoid a scene and reveal a crack in their alliance. Olenna thought to, but then thought better. Lenore must have a reason - every place had ears. Lenore suspected then here. "Fine, but I am bringing the tea this time." Olenna said. "I will send someone to arrange it later, when I know how my schedule looks now that I have to look at war."

Robb was curious as to it a well and made a note to see Lenore later. It would be necessary regardless. She was still technically confined during the feast but it would not be prudent for her to remain confined during it. "I will see you this evening, Lady Reyne."

"I will be around," a touch of humor before she asked, "May I leave?"

"You may," he nodded. His attention then turned back to Willas, "Thank you for joining our plight, Lord Tyrell." He was truly grateful for the assistance. "Please do not hesitate to see or speak with me in the future. I wish to have open communications about the war effort going forward. With you as well, Lady Olenna."

"Trust me, I never hesitate." Olenna answered.


Lenore accepted Robb's dismissal, and caught a look from Tybalt that said it wouldn't be so easy - before she approached Lord Bolton.

"My lord," a touch of a sing-song in the way it was said - enough to make Tybalt tense. That was not a good tone no matter how she sounded. "I wanted to say that I hold you faultless in all of this. You reacted accordingly to the threat I presented, and I apologize if any on my side have treated you unfairly. In your position, I know my knight would have done the same." It was an apology for show, but it needed to be done, "I hope that we can continue as before."

Roose did not so much as narrow his eyes in suspicion. He was aware of what this was. Aware of how he had to respond, "We are on good terms, Lady Reyne," he spoke softly, "And I am grateful you understand my position. I could not have known if your next arrow would have gone into His Grace. Your apology is accepted."

"Thank you," Lenore turned then to see Tybalt waiting at the door with Hill and she moved to follow them out.
 
Men of the North had creed in the Gods, even if they did not abide to by The Seven, and although Willas knew it was men that won wars, faith was what motivated them to achieve their victories and fight for their cause. It was what he respected most about them, their certitude that there was a chance, which he otherwise would not have considered. He would not have had the courage to start this rebellion, and the mere thought distressed him - that Robb Stark could be more reputable than him.

It was pride which muddled his mind then; he knew he ought to respect him as a leader, but he couldn't look past the unspoken feud. He should not have allowed a woman to cloud his thoughts in the first place, and yet, it was what seemed to have guided him the most in accepting that Alliance and building an impression over the man which would be difficult to change over time, whether Caireann chose to marry one or the other.

"And I thank you for your hospitality, Lord Stark," he gave him a brief smile, but the sincerity in his tone was unquestionable. A feast would certainly help lift their spirits up more before they started planning their attack on Casterly. His mind already started sketching schemes - to inform Margaery and Loras first, to speak to Caireann and invite her personally, before the Wolf had the time to do it. He did not expect an immediate answer, but he would have at least shown that he hadn't minded her stance that morning, as well as hinted at his intentions.

He stood up and straightened his back before stepping around the chair. He would retire if allowed, and hopefully his grandmother followed. There was much more left to discussed between the two of them only.

Before Lenore Reyne got the chance to leave, there was a brief discussion which he carried with Roose Bolton - unnaturally cordial, subtly curt. Catelyn's lips pursed at the scene - she tried to catch the woman's gaze to express her disapproval, but she did not give her the chance. Although it was good that she wanted to prove there was no resentment between the members of the Alliance, at least in front of the judgmental eyes of the roses, it was clear that something lurked behind those kind glances, even for someone like Lenore.

Cat rose from her seat as well, to stand by her son as the council broke before them. A part of her wanted to address the past evening, but she knew it was not the right moment to apologize; not with the pretext that Maege and Galbart had changed her view, for they had not. Yet, as a mother, she felt the need to reassure him that she did not despise or disrespect the woman he loved. Perhaps that would sweeten him, as he appeared cold and sullen in front of her, and she could easily sense his disquietude.

"You have done well," she murmured for his ears only, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. "You have acted like a King, spoken like a King," and it had been enough to convince Olenna Tyrell of their purpose. "But I was surprised to hear Lord Hetherspoon come to your aid at her... unreasonable inquiry." She had wished to point out his slip with Caireann Lannister, and the man had managed to avoid the question in his stead, which otherwise would not have happened. Word had it that the West had grown attached to the girl after Rickard Karstark's attempt to harm her; perchance Tybalt had only tried to defend her honour, and not Robb's.

It was still strange how the Alliance had managed to shatter and was now repairing itself slowly, building stronger relationships between the heads. If Robb grew fond of Willas, there would only be advantages in the future. She knew she could not sway Robb to marry Margaery Tyrell, with his now broken vow, but the roses were charismatic and cunning enough to fill some gaps in that union which the Northern and Western pride and vanity kept digging.
 
The others began to clear out, and Robb caught glances as they made their way, including Lord Bolton. He had seen Lenore go to him, but had not caught the conversation. It did not concern him since it had not ended in violence. As others made their way out, his mother came to him, and he gave her a tired. Weariness showed in it now, the weight of the day already falling on him. This was why he preferred these things to be in the evening.

He felt tired after them.

“Thank you,” he was pleased to hear her words, that she thought he had done well. He had done well enough, at least, to secure the alliance in spite of the Caireann issue between him and Willas, who left with Olenna, dismissed with a nod and a smile. She went on to laud his manner of speaking, before becoming curious over Tybalt’s defense.

It was a bit odd, but carried from the conversation earlier. It made Robb feel more that the Lord of the Fern Valley meant it. “We spoke at breakfast, briefly,” he told his mother, “Lord Hetherspoon is interested in strengthening our bonds, in becoming friends,” he could see no reason to oppose it. He wanted to be suspicious, but he saw no reason for it, either. “Perhaps we have been keeping them too distant.” If they were closer, perhaps some of the situations would not have arisen.

Would not have caused such conflict.

It would be difficult to be close to Lenore, but not so with Tybalt, and Tybalt had her ear as much as anyone could, Robb suspected. Through that, they could rein things in. “Is everything well with you? You came in with Lord Glover and he seemed rather…chastened,” Robb noted.

~***~

Ser Hill found an empty conference room for Tybalt and Lenore, when the Lord requested it, and the pair slipped in. He pressed his back to the door, even though Tybalt had given him a stern look. He imagined the conversation was going to be only about poison, considering what had happened last night.

That was what Lenore played at, as well, when Tybalt turned to her then. “I’m sorry,” she said, again, “I won’t make the same mistake with it—”

“You always make the same mistakes,” Tybalt said. She made similar mistakes with nightshade before. With men. Always, men who could not be hers. He knew why, but it did not make him happy. It could not be making her happy, either. “I am not here to speak with you about poison,” he kept his voice low. This was not for Hill’s ears.

She played dumb, “What is this about?” A part of her wanted to ramble. A caught child – she could offer him options, misdirect, but it wouldn’t work.

No, not at all. Tybalt cut to the heart of it in the only way he could, to get the truth: “Are you fucking Jaime Lannister?” Because in the space of two seconds, he saw it on her face. In the way her expression shifted, and shock shifted to stoicism. A normal person, a normal reaction, would have lingered on confusion…if she wasn’t fucking Jaime.
 
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