Fangs and Claws [Closed]

[peritwinkle]

"It is your duty to forge relations with the West, Robb," Catelyn let out a sigh and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she searched for his, to hopefully wash away his concerns. "Whatever you have said to him, it seems to have worked. You have his trust now, more than you have before," and even if Lenore Reyne was not fond of him, Lord Hetherspoon would find a way to change that, if Robb pursued the path of cordiality.

At his inquiry of the incident that morning, Cat did waver to gather her words. She did not wish to let in on her weakness in front of him anymore, but as the boy was honest to her, she needed to pay him back with the same sincerity. "Lord Glover believes he can tell me how to raise my own son," she said plainly, though her explanation did not clear anything up. There was far more than that, which she did not wish to speak of right then, but knew she was required to.

It had not been his words that had bothered her as much as his attitude. She knew she had made mistakes, and was aware she would continue to make them in the future, especially now that her son was growing faster and faster every day and coming to take his own decisions. There had to be a limit to them, still, and that was what she had intended to set through her disapproval at his resolution to marry a woman whom he should have treated as a prisoner, not a lover.

For breaking a vow and, possibly, fathering a bastard child.

She reached up to press her palm to his cheek; room emptied, she could almost hear the beat of his heart, restless and fearful. "He does not wish to see our House tied with the Freys," and while he did not deem Caireann Lannister as fit in their circumstance, he seemed to prefer her to any of Walder's daughters. "By now, word might have reached his ears," she continued sourly. "If you intend to break the vow, Robb... At least break it for something that will benefit us all." Not only for his mere lust. "Marry Lady Margaery."

He wouldn't, and she knew it from even before she spoke, but it did not bring harm to a least try. She was beautiful and intelligent, and could tie another knot in their relationship with the Reach. If he pleased, Willas Tyrell could marry his Caireann and wash away his resentment for Robb if there was any in his heart.

~***~

Once outside of the office, Willas followed his grandmother closely. His eyes were focused on her, whilst his mind worked to pair his words together and form a proper sentence. After such a council, the woman would be tired and bitter, and he knew better than to upset her in those moments, but he needed to address the matter of his sister's wishes at once.

Before it was too late, and other things got involved.

"Grandmother Olenna," the man spoke, and in that moment he sounded like nothing else than a boy before his parent. "I have spoken to my sister, this will not please her," he sighed, "and this morning she still had faith that the other choice would have benefited us." There was more than that, but he did not find any satisfaction in degrading Margaery in front of Olenna, not right then, not ever. She was a good girl, but sometimes simply too naive for the world she lived in.

Willas took in a deep breath and lowered his voice. "She won't listen to me, regardless of what I say." She was stubborn. "I am not blind, and neither are you. You know what she wants, as well as the fact that it is not achievable." And frankly, he needed someone to agree with him on that matter. He wanted to reassure himself that he was right for once, and his sweet sister was in the wrong before their grandmother. That she knew her hopes of charming Robb Stark were in vain.

 

[Lucyfer]

It was Robb’s duty to forge those relationships, but it was also Lenore’s, and she seemed to have little interest in it. Her focus had been military more than anything, the entire time. Movement. Robb did not see it until it was spoken to him, that he had to forge relationships – Lenore did not seem to care. She was focused solely on the war, not on the alliance. A flaw. He needed to work on it, then. She would not.

Then Catelyn explained the situation with Glover. Apparently it was paternal advise. It made sense, then, that his mother would get upset. And of course, the topic was of Robb’s transgressions. The Young King sighed at hearing it, and did lean his cheek a bit against her hand, thinking she would not offend him.

But then she told him to marry Margaery.

He stepped away from her, looking at her as if repulsed by the idea. After the hell he’d been through already…knowing what Caireann would think to hear it said so bluntly, he could only respond immediately with, “No.” He had no interest in marrying Margaery. “Do you think my heart is that fickle, mother?” He sounded offended, and he was.

He had not met the Frey girl. He had not fallen in love with a Frey girl. It was forced upon him. But he fell for Caireann, and he loved Caireann – he would not just go to marry Margaery because it was better for the alliance. If he let that be his concern, he would not have let himself fall for Caireann as he did. He would have been honorable and planned to hold his vow to the Freys.

~***~

Tired and bitter were fit words to describe Olenna after things like this. The old woman’s head usually despised everyone after things like this, even if it went well. Her thorns sharpened themselves on their flaws and prepared for the next time, as if it were a battle. Yet, that was her own issue. It was one she dealt with in tea and bitching with other women, usually. Where were her handmaidens, anyway?

Not here. No, she just had Willas, who wanted to talk about Margaery – who had no say in this. Who would not get a say in it. It was all signed. Now they just had to play it out. “We have known this would not please her from the start, Willas,” Olenna reminded him, “and she is not wrong. The Lannisters would benefit us. They do pay their debts.”

Something that she did like in Tywin. The man was true to his word, true to every threat and every promise. He would try to make his words true against this Alliance, too. “And what do we need to make her listen for? Our alliance is sealed, she will go along with it, and she’ll play her games with Lord Stark. It’d be good for her to find a man she can’t seduce – who actually likes women.”

Unlike Renly. Obviously, she never had a chance with Renly. “Why does it concern you if Margaery tries to seduce the King of the North, Willas?” She asked him then. She did not know why his sister’s games would perturb him, particularly in this case.

After all, if Margaery was successful, that pale flower that Robb coveted would be his.

~***~

Lenore had not planned to lie to Tybalt. She also had not expected he would ask so bluntly, so there went all of her plans right out the door. Her hesitance, and the shift, gave it all away. Even she knew that, as she saw the judgmental scowl. “I am,” she answered, cautiously. As he started to appear exasperated, as he started to open his mouth, she cut him off, “It’s nothing, it’s meaningless,” lies, but the truth she told herself.

“Lenore!” He hissed at her, “Even if it were – he could snap your neck! You are leaving yourself vulnerable in the arms of a Lannister!” Yes, she was. Lenore could not argue that point. She could remind him that Jaime saved her, but their…relationship remained complicated if they thought about it. Which, Lenore tried not to do. Not deeply. “That is all it would take.”

“I know.”

“You always know. Why are you doing this? If you need release…there are enough whores in Lannisport, Lenore,” he sighed. It was not something he truly understood. He had been alone since his wife died, and he intended to keep it that way. “There is no need for him.”

“No need, but a want,” Lenore confessed, crossing her arms over her chest and bowing her head. She wasn’t sure how to keep this. Tybalt wouldn’t understand. He’d come up with a lie in seconds flat so no one realized the true reason Jaime had to be removed.

There was silence between them, then. It stretched, until Lenore thought she might snap. Tybalt spoke into it. “Why, Lenore?”

‘Because in the world where Roger and Tywin did not go to war, he would be mine.’ Lenore chewed the inside of her cheek. She could still feel the press of his lips, the warmth of his arms around her, and she wanted a reason to come easily, one that made enough sense for her to keep him.

“You don’t know.”

“I don’t know,” Lenore echoed. “It was not thought through, and whenever I think about it, I know where it leads and where it ends, and so does he, but….” A sigh. “I don’t want it to end until it has to,” she looked at Tybalt imploringly then, opening her gaze to look at him, “I don’t know if I want the escape or the lie in the chaos of this war, but I want whatever it is, and I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.” It didn’t change what she wanted.

Tybalt sighed, “What would Roger say?”

A touch of a smile came to her lips, confused. He didn’t usually ask that, unless…, “He wouldn’t say much. He’d laugh, he’d probably call me an idiot, and tell me to carry on,” since it would piss off Tywin. Roger would let her have whatever she wanted.

Tybalt pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead, “If I take him away from you, send him into Vikary custody, you’re only going to go see him again and end up getting caught,” he grumbled the truth. So far she was being careful. It was Jaime who gave it away, to a man who knew his daughter too well. “Won’t you?”

“…yes.” Like poison. Her addictions were always fatal. She wouldn’t deny it. If Jaime were taken away, she’d create ways to see him. He was still her prisoner, no matter who’s custody he was in, and the Westerners listened to her. If they didn’t know the reason why, they’d think Tybalt overreacting over something for her protection.

“What am I supposed to do then?” Tybalt asked, looking her dead in the eye, “Poison, Jaime, war with Tywin…,” he was never truly able to control her, was he? He knew that. Could not take away her poison. Could not turn her towards a normal life. Could not steer her towards a happy relationship. Everything she sought, pulled her towards the grave, threatened her life, “This is foolishness, Lenore. Foolishness. And yes, I know, you know. And I know I can’t stop you, because it isn’t meaningless and nothing, is it? If you were just using him to get at Tywin – you have done it. He cares for you. But it isn’t one-sided, is it?” silence. “That’s what you can’t put your finger on.” Because she didn’t understand it.

But he could see it. “We are at war with his father.”

“That will not change. I will have Tywin’s head…and Jaime will hate me. Or we lose.”

“Then stop this madness, Lenore.” He could not stop her. She could only stop herself. She was rational most of the time. She knew how to disconnected. “You have always thought of the future. Think of it now. Think of the moment beyond Tywin’s death.” He knew that was hard for her. That was where her future ended. That was all she could truly imagine. Everything else was an unknown. “Beyond that, you can restart the Reyne line – you will still be fertile in a few years, if you don’t damage yourself with that tea.” Lenore winced. “You will rule the Westerlands. You do not need this. This is…this is just stupid, to play with fire like this. To make him hate you, because in you is a vain hope that he won’t hate you, and in him is a vain hope that you won’t kill his father, and you know he’s wrong.” Because no matter how much she loved someone, nothing burned hotter than her hatred.

Not her love for Tybalt’s safety. They called her Ghost – and she humored them, but Tybalt knew she was driven by the ghosts instead. She could not rest so long as they haunted her, speaking in their gurgled voices. Lenore would never rest so long as they went unavenged. “I’ll…work on it.”

Tybalt did believe her. She looked chastened. Hurt. That meant he had gotten through, and she would actually work on parting from Jaime. It would be easier when the confinement ended, and she did not have to spend all that time with him. “Thank you.” There need not be any scandal or movement.

 

[peritwinkle]

Catelyn's heart twisted painfully at her son's resolve. He stepped away as if burnt, and she knew she had managed to offend him by his feelings were wayward. His love for another woman would not benefit him then, while the land was at war, and whilst Walder Frey's daughters were not as appealing, Margaery Tyrell could bring him happiness on more plans than just one. They had an army. Strength and tradition. Those perks were what he needed to help him rule and unite the North with the South.

Caireann Lannister was not loved.

But she did not push the matters forward with whom he would make use of easier. Truthfully, it worried her that they had come to this; she would have wanted Robb to be happy, in the end, and marry a woman of his choice. That was, now, what he intended to do and, good or bad, she ought to respect it for the time being. Perchance he would realise that the rose was better than the lion one day, but that was within his own powers to change.

She let her hand fall to her side and hid it beneath the thin woven cape. "No," she answered plainly, averting her gaze. "I only want what is better for you, Robb, you know that. And if you think this will make you happy..." then so be it. "Please forgive me," bitter but nevertheless sincere. She did not wish to hurt him any more than she knew he was already, for that day had just started, and it was already mentally exhausting, even for her.

And he was just a boy in the end; his whole life lay ahead of him to experience. Although, she had listened to pursue her betrothal with Ned even after Brandon's death, she had learnt to love him, fallen after having gone through thick an thin with her husband, endured the struggles of life and learnt to bear them together. It was why, she thought, Robb had fallen in love with his Caireann - for she had advised him and remained loyal, even if their love was more forlorn than genuine.

He would learn.

With a quiet sigh, Cat stepped back and made her way around the table to reach the door. "You are free to make your own mistakes, Robb. But be wary." And with that, she disappeared into the dark hallways, heading towards her quarters in hopes she would not be disturbed with such matters again that day. Above all, she needed a cup of honeyed tea and unperturbed silence.

~***~

It was not his grandmother's rationality that spoke then, as she stated that the Lannisters would, indeed, be better. Yes, they were wealthier than the North. They were stronger when it came to internal defenses and managed to keep themselves standing more than any other cursed legacy would have. They were a powerful House, but which was doomed to fall one day, soon enough, and the war would end with them. That was what Willas wished to believe, and what he would convince his sister of, as well.

When the inquiry came, he bit his tongue to stop himself from speaking too quickly. Olenna knew her daughter all too well, and perhaps that question already had an answer in her mind, but she only wished to hear his own. "She acted indecorously in front of Lady Caireann," he breathed out and closed his eyes for a moment. "Her... courteous attitude hurt her. She still pines for Robb Stark..." and he would not force the affection out of her if it was not desired. "She made her leave."

He wanted to win her the proper way, with gifts and attentions, long walks and tender words. He wanted to make her happy the way she deserved, not by locking her in a chamber and promising love. It was what Robb seemed to be doing, and it was still mystery to him how they had managed to fall in love in such odd circumstances, in the middle of war.

When the corridors intersected, he stopped in front of Olenna and met her eyes with firmness. "I do not want her to be hurt, grandmother," he sighed. "I want her to trust us, all of us," even if Margaery was sometimes impossible. "I will be kind to her, and I want you and her to do the same." And he would turn around, leaving her mind to linger on his words for a little while. It was all he knew he could to - speak - for women rarely wished to listen.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb Stark knew he had hurt his mother as well, but he could not take it back as her hand fell away. She needed to be burnt to understand, it seemed, if she would suggest it so casually that he could just leave Caireann for another woman. He was all too aware there were no external advantages to being with Caireann. It was not why he loved her – and to him that only made it all the more pure.

He did not want Caireann for the wealth of Casterly Rock. He did not want her to be tied to the Lannisters. He did not want her for an army, or a bridge, or anything else, he wanted her because she made him happy. She stood at his side and tried to assist him. Yes, they were still working on things – but they were working on them!

Liked his own father and mother, he was learning who she was, and she was learning who he was. He erred. He hurt her without wanting to, but that was human nature, human life – he hurt his own sweet sisters and brothers without truly wanting to.

He hurt his mother, then.

Yet they came back together, and they healed. Grew. Learned.

“This will make me happy,” he told his mother as she suggested it, letting it trail, before asking forgiveness. The weak smile returned, wavered slightly. He nodded, suggesting she was forgiven. He knew she was only looking out for his interests, but she was also looking at the bigger picture. He could not truly fault her for it…only the way it was suggested to him.

At least he was still free to make his own mistakes.

When Catelyn left, he sighed and shook his head, then moved away from the conference room. He should go to see Caireann, if only to tell her how this went. If she did not wish to see him for long, then he could leave her be, but she ought to know the alliance was made. Their odds of winning this war had just increased substantially.

~***~

‘Well of course she acted indecorously in front of Robb Stark.’ Lady Olenna wanted to say it was not for Caireann. It was because Robb Stark was present. Willas should have seen that coming from a mile away. This was his own sister – he knew her well enough, and knew how she pursued things. If she could turn Robb’s head from Caireann, she would do so. For some, that would be enough to cause a fight that would end it all.

Then Caireann would be left pining, but open for Willas.

Robb was not that sort of man, but Margaery would learn that soon enough. “Oh ho, did Margaery order Caireann to go?” Made her leave – Olenna doubted that. Intimidated, worried, and bothered Caireann to the point that she wanted to leave, that was more what Olenna would believe, “Remember, Willas – choose your words carefully.” That was why she had jumped at Robb in the beginning of his spiel.

He had not chosen his words carefully.

When Willas paused and spoke, Olenna sighed, but did not call after him. ‘Margaery would be kind with her, if it was her alone. You know this.’ Margaery was not cruel at heart. She was just ambitious, and that ambition sometimes got the better of her. If it were only Caireann, she would be sweet as honey and flatter the girl and encourage her. It was how Margaery was. With Robb…well, she wanted to seduce Robb. That was her higher goal.

She would not be kind to Caireann then.

Olenna had no reason to be cruel to her. She might be annoyed with her if she ended up little more than a clucking hen, or a withered flower, but she would not be cruel. Though, some thought her blunted words were such. Well…rather like Margaery, there were some things that didn’t change.

Olenna would retire to her own chambers, and if Willas would not call their lords and ladies to attention that day, then she would, later.

~***~

“Rest,” Tybalt’s last suggestion as they exited the room, and Hill was there. He hadn’t been able to hear through the wooden door. Tybalt knew what volume to keep things at – he wouldn’t have survived this long with as many secrets as he kept, if he didn’t. Lenore just gave a mute nod, and Hill took her arm to lead her back to the room.

At least Hill suspected she’d be far more careful with the poison now. She was silent the walk back, and when they reached the room, Yularen was still a wake. He jumped, though, startled when the door opened. Hill gestured, “You can go,” he told him, and Yularen was quick to get up and throw his boots back on.

Meanwhile, Lenore kicked off hers and let herself all but fall onto her own bed, burying her face in a pillow and shutting her eyes. She wanted to sleep. Just sleep until the confinement was over. She wanted to cry and scream, but she’d not do either of those things. The conflict was only starting.

It was easier to sleep and ignore it. She’d not know when she had a moment alone with Jaime if she just stayed asleep. 'It's only lust.' She lied. 'If lust bothers you that much, then when you are free of this confinement, there are plenty of other options.' She wanted to grab another pillow and cover her head. Didn't. Really should loosen the laces of her dress to sleep, but also wouldn't. She'd deal with the consequences when she woke up.

Hill arched a brow at her action, but then addressed Jaime, lest he get the wrong idea, “The Tyrells have agreed to join us,” bad news for Tywin’s war effort, but fantastic news for them.

“Woo!” Yularen was happy about that, as he got his last boot on, “So we’ll be having a feast soon?”

“Tomorrow evening.”

“Awesome! All right, I’m going,” he said quickly to Hill’s look, and out the door he went.

 

[peritwinkle]

As thick clouds gathered in the sky above the sea, Mina was glad she could enjoy the warmth of a dulcet hearth inside, in a comfortable bed and covered in furs. She loved the rain; loved watching the nature unleash its wrath upon the hills and forests in spectacular storms and breathtaking games of light and darkness. And the trees, bending in the striking blows of the wind, sought as though the woods came to life, murmuring stories to those willing to listen.

It was why she had always endeared the sea; almost each night was stormy, and when the timber and water groaned in their solitude, she never felt alone. Never felt as though she did not have a family, as though she were unsettled and seemingly never able to find a place to belong. Even as she held Caireann in her arms right then, she forced herself to believe she had found it, but she knew that one day she would have to leave everything behind and find another truth for herself to abide to.

It was in her nature to come and go, just like the waves, but only she never returned to the same place again.

Curled up by her side, dozing, the seashell looked like nothing but a vulnerable child, red in the cheeks and cuddled beneath the duvet. It was strange how the mere sight awakened certain instincts inside of her, which she fought to understand. Love. Care. Gentility. Mina wanted to protect and treat her when that whom she loved could not. It was, frankly, not Lord Stark's fault for what had happened, but Lady Margaery's, yet she could not fault Caireann for her pain either. They both made it all more complicated than a love story at their age should have been.

The silence was perturbed by the sound of steps outside their room, heavy and slow, but they did not bother the girl from her slumber. The guard at the door was the one to greet the King in the North before he would let him in, to inform him that he ought to be quiet as Mina had instructed. She could hear his voice, but muffled through the thick stone walls, and her hand reached for the fur to pull it over Caireann's cheeks to fade it even more.

~***~

Yularen's presence hadn't bothered Jaime as much as it normally would have. He had spent his morning focused on the image of Lenore, trying to think of words to explain himself if Tybalt demanded an answer. He was curious to know if Lenore would address the situation before or after the council, if she would be able to avoid it or give one of her witty and venomous answers as she used to. Or, if she gave him the plain truth and ruined every chance there was left for them to be together until the end of everything.

The door opened and before he knew, the spoon was up on his feet and jumping into his boots. Lenore looked distressed in his time of silence, which only confirmed his assumptions, but he did not linger much on her complexion. The woman was barely breathing with her head buried in the pillow; Had it gone wrong for her? Had she slipped again, and was forced to return to the cell or live the rest of the war in confinement?

Hill spoke before her, and the news were good. For them at least. Now he had another worry to try and quench - if the Alliance was stronger now, with Mace's men Lord Tywin would never be able to defend Casterly Rock and King's Landing, nevertheless at the same time. There was also the issue of Willas Tyrell, who probably still intended to marry Caireann, which would have been a good thing, if they had not joined the enemy. He still could not let his daughter slip away from her family, even if it had been her kin to push her away.

"I take it that you have kept your mouth contained," he teased Lenore and let himself fall back into his bed. Her state was not the best, but at least she seemed better after the incident from the previous night. They would have to speak, of course, once the shift changed and they had a moment for themselves, but this was not the right time at all. "And a feast? I suppose I won't be coming, will I?"

 

[Lucyfer]

“Your Grace,” Lord Stark was greeted by a hushed voice as he came to Caireann’s room, and it struck worry into his heart immediately. He had left when Caireann seemed unwell. Had she worsened in his absence? ‘She could have interrupted!’ He did not speak, but gave the guard a quizzical look. “Mina has advised us to be quiet.”

No reason was given.

The auburn king nodded and entered the room when the door was opened for him, slowly. He walked in, his blue eyes landing upon the women cuddled together. Caireann seemed to be resting, but Mina was awake enough. He drew close, keeping his steps soft, as the guard gently shut the door behind him.

“Mina,” he addressed her, “have you called a maester, or anyone, to come see her?” his own way of asking if she needed someone right then. If he had to, he would bring Lenore down from her room again. He wouldn’t force Caireann to walk for the sake of his pride and the need to keep Lenore confined.

Some things were worth more than that. Caireann was one of them. If she could not make the journey, then Lenore would have to come down to her. He would wait for a response, to know if it was necessary first. He was not certain of the situation he had just walked into, after all. He needed to understand that, first. Then he could decide on what actions to take.

His blue eyes were clouded with worry as they slipped from Mina to examine what he could see of Caireann, which was not much, thanks to all the covers over her.

~***~

Lenore did not want to joke with Jaime right then, and the voice grated at her. The tease, the doubt, the thought that she couldn’t hold it all together and secure alliances. He likely meant it good-naturedly, but it felt like barbs right then. She was still tender from Tybalt’s words, and what she would have to do.

At least her expression was hidden by the pillow. Everything was. It didn't give her real peace or privacy, which was all she really wanted right then, but it would have to do.

Hill answered, “I’m not even sure if Lenore gets to go, yet,” he didn’t address her. It seemed she wanted to try to sleep. Or rather, try to force isolation on herself in a public space – Tybalt got to her, he knew. “I have a feeling Robb will allow it, and if Caireann is going, then we can discuss you going, as well.” And they all knew Caireann was going.

If one prisoner went, why not the other?

The West could abuse that logic. Not to mention, if Jaime had to stay, then Hill had to stay – and he wasn’t going to. He wanted to enjoy the festivities. His prisoner could follow him. “Tybalt lectured her about the poison incident, I presume,” Hill said, to explain her ignoring them. “Apparently, well.”

Lenore grabbed a pillow and threw it back in the direction of Hill’s voice. He caught it, set it in his lap, and took a seat in the chair.

 

[peritwinkle]

When the King stepped inside, Mina's heart sunk at the worry etched on his face. She was not afraid of him, for he had never been cruel to her, but she knew she might not have done the right thing by watching over Caireann herself. She was no medic, and had only learnt basic aid from experience and nothing reliable, although when it came to such sickness and nausea she had enough experience to know there was nothing to fuss about. It would pass, as the girl had said herself, but she would have to deal with it much more often in the days that followed.

Of course, she would not mention the reason behind her state, and so she resorted to a sincere answer to his inquiry. "No, Your Grace. Lady Lannister said she would wait for you," a subtle hint that she held no resentment for him, yet he had taken longer than she had managed to stay awake. "Would you like me to take her to Lady Reyne?" She would be able to confirm her diagnose and hopefully prepare something that would ease her pain. She had only given her honeyed tea, which had lured her to sleep.

With a quiet hum, the seashell moved from beneath the covers and her eyes opened at the voices around her. She blinked, stretched slightly and moved to shift to the other side when her gaze found the King in the North, regal in his white and silver but with his complexion stained by concern. "Robb," Caireann whispered, and eventually pulled herself up from the warmth of the bed to let the colder air of the room peck her skin and awaken her. She sat up with her legs curled underneath her and Mina stood up to pick up the cup of tea from the bedside.

"Here, finish your drink, m'Lady. You will feel better." She placed it in her palms before she could refuse it, but her throat felt too dry right then for her to deny the relief. There were only a few sips left, but she swigged them up quickly before looking at her Wolf again, silently pining for him.

Mina took the cup back from her hands and inclined her head to the auburn King before she rounded him to exit the room. "Send for me, if you need me," she murmured to him. "I won't be far," but she would give them the privacy they needed until she was called for.

~***~

Jaime did not give much importance to the feast, for it was not is victory to celebrate, but he did want to go to keep an eye on Caireann. His own eye. Without a doubt, Robb wouldn't let her out of it, especially then that the Tyrells seemed to have taken interest in her. He only wished to be there to make sure she was safe this time, even if Karstark had been gotten rid of already. There were presumably many who still did not agree to their relationship, and while he was one of them, at least he did not want to cause another pointless death.

And if Lenore went, he would have to endure watching her dance and celebrate with everyone else but him. He was an infirm, after all, who could barely slip into his own boots, nevertheless dance with her. "She has played an important role in the Council if they have convinced the Queen of Thorns to join you," he said almost sourly, but with honest admiration for her tact. "The Tyrells, if not Robb Stark himself, would like to see her there."

The change in subject did not appear to have made the Ghost too happy; she attacked Hill with a brute force, which only meant one thing: she did not wish to be disturbed. "She knows her own mistakes, Hill," Jaime sighed. It was meant to extend to other circumstances, as well, for a light lecture about the dangers of poison would not have upset her so much, especially not coming from someone like Tybalt Hetherspoon, who was as quarrelsome as the object he represented.

Something told him that the bastard had not been informed of the incident, which thankfully was good news, otherwise he would have blown his teeth before he even got the chance to see him enter through the door. Hill was the last Jaime wanted to find out about their relationship and, with a bit of luck, he would not need to reveal it soon. Instead, he sought to change the subject once again and this time his eyes moved to him. "If I do come, it means that you do, as well... Which also means, you should steel yourself for a dance with the Daisy."

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb was annoyed that Caireann would put aside her health to wait for him, since her health was far more important to him than such a meeting. It could have resumed at any time, though admittedly, not without Lenore, or Tybalt. The two learned the craft of words well, and he had to wonder who had first mastered it. Was Lenore always the diplomat, or had Tybalt been, all along?

Before Robb could say yes to Mina’s query, the young woman woke herself and stretched out. Robb sat upon the bed then, to be nearer to her, eyes watching her movements as Mina pulled away to give her tea. “I’m here,” he spoke softly to Caireann as she took the tea.

Always tea for health.

Caireann downed it quickly, and Mina took the cup, before leaving, letting Robb know she would not be far. ‘I can take her to Lenore myself,’ but he did not say as much, and let Mina leave. He reached for Caireann’s hands then, to pull her towards him if she was willing. If not, then he would just hold them and look upon her pining expression.

Start with the good news, “The Tyrells have agreed to join us,” he told her, smiling, “We’ll have a feast tomorrow – we’ll dance tomorrow,” he hoped, “but you need to be well for that, Caireann. What are you feeling?” He wanted to know the symptoms. Wanted to know if there was anything he could do, besides take her to Lenore. “Lady Reyne should be back in her own quarters now – should I get her, or would you like to go to her?”

It wasn’t so much a question as to whether or not Caireann wanted to go. Robb wanted her to go now, and be examined. He wanted her to see Lenore.

~***~

‘Thank you.’

Lenore thought.

Then, Lenore cursed her own gratitude towards Jaime as he shifted the topic effortlessly. Her hands moved up to encircle her head, staying above it, to let her fingers dig in briefly to the pillow, and then relax. Deep breath. Deep and slow. She could force herself to sleep, with enough slow breathing.

Slower, and slower. Her heart would follow. Then, she’d be long gone….

Adryan was not able to comment on Lenore knowing her mistakes. The topic went to Loras, and he shook his head, “I won’t humiliate myself that way,” still a lion. Still too proud. “I may dance with Caireann and Lenore again, but I am not going to dance with the Daisy. Lymond might,” a wry smirk, “if we can get him drunk enough.”

The hint – they could make this into a game. Lymond was not exactly a man who acted sanely when intoxicated. They could get him dance with Loras Tyrell. “I think we could manage it…,” he would need Jaime’s help. Ser Hill himself knew he was too much of a stoic to pull it off on his own, but he could feed off of others and play it up. “Or perhaps the Daisy would be gentle enough to lead you through a dance.” Smiled then.

Now that was a humorous thought. Jaime dancing with Loras.

 

[peritwinkle]

Mina's leave unsettled Caireann more than it should have, yet she did not lack the warmth of another body by her side. Robb came to her quickly and sat down on the bed, reassuring her that he was there for her then. She could not say she had missed him, for she had fallen asleep too quickly to be bothered by his absence, but she could read the worry in his eyes, that must have lingered through the entire meeting, or at least in his moments of solitude, when he could allow himself to think of her, from time to time.

It had not kept him from doing well, though; another victory, another step towards bringing that war to an end. She forgot the Margaery in that moment as she grabbed his cheeks and pressed her forehead to his in a silent gest of gratitude and praise. "I knew you would do it," she returned the smile. "I had no doubts... You have done well, my love."

There was hope for peace and happiness, after all.

But he let his concern for her break the moment then, and subtly demanded her to see Lenore at once. Caireann knew she needed to; she had avoided it for too long, although she could not let Robb know of it, whether she was sure or not. "I am only dizzy, that is all," she sighed. "There is nothing you should worry about, truly... I am alright. But I will go see Lady Reyne, if that will make you happy." That morning must have stressed him enough; he needn't have another thought to cloud his mind right then, and she did not wish to be the reason behind his perpetual tension.

Before they could leave, Caireann lowered her head and brushed her fingertips over his cheeks, lingering at the corner of his lips, before her eyes shot up to drown in the blueness of his own. "I am sorry for having acted so immature," for showing that she was pained, when she should be a symbol of strength to him, as his Queen and wife-to-be. "I never meant to doubt you, or make you doubt me, I love you... Will you ever forgive me?" her voice was weak and frail, but she fought to keep a certain firmness to it, to let him know that she truly meant it.

~***~

The thought of Hill dancing with Loras Tyrell was not at all disappointing, but as much as Jaime wanted to see that come to life, he knew it would not happen. Not while Hill was still in his sane state, and even inebriated, he would not come close to the Daisy, considering his obvious interest in him. The boy had not struggled much to keep his sexual orientation a secret, even if the rumour was already commonly spoken of among the ranks of his own army, nevertheless the rest of Stafford's castle.

But Lymond painted a better imagery of it all, and even he knew it would not take much work to convince him to honour the Daisy with a dance after a few tankards of Northern beer and wine. "We could try," he chuckled, "or if he doesn't work, I am quite sure Yularen wouldn't mind it, either." He did not seem to have taken any interest in any women around, and Tybalt had confirmed it for him. The two were pretty, either way, and would indeed make an even prettier pair together.

"Or Bolton," he thought to add, but merely to annoy Lenore if she was still awake and hadn't fallen asleep, although by the looks of it she was either trying to, or already dozing. "I won't bet anything, though. If you break his heart with your cold refusal, I doubt he will be in the mood to dance with anyone else..."

A tease. It was known that the Tyrells were not easily abashed; one or two drinks, and Robb Stark himself would be leaving Caireann for Margaery. Immediately, the thought was quite satisfying, but the more he deepened into it, the more irritated he found himself being. As much as he despised their relationship, he did not want to see Caireann hurt any more than she already was. He did not have the right to take her heart then break it so... But then again, was it not what he would be doing to Lenore, himself?

 

[Lucyfer]

Her fair hands left his, to touch his cheeks and press her head to his. He leaned into it, glad for the joy that sparked in her eyes, even if it grew somber at his talk of her health. She tried to talk as if it were nothing, but dire illnesses could start at nothing. He would rather be irrationally paranoid than lazy in that regard – rather worry over nothing, than let ‘nothing’ destroy her. She did not do well with travel and fever. She had lived a life of solitude, inside a castle – she needed to be treated gently and looked after, until she got used to this.

Grew stronger.

“It will make me happy,” Robb confirmed as Caireann said, and he lifted his hand from where it had been holding hers, to brush aside her hair and pull it behind her cheek.

Her fingers trailed then, to his lips, and he turned his head slightly as she apologized to place a kiss on those tips. His hand lifted again to take her hand, “I was never angry with you, Caireann,” he told her, kissing another finger as he adjusted her hand, “I am irritated with myself,” another finger, “that in spite of how much I care for you, I can be so distracted by her beauty and her conversational skills,” the pinky then, before he lifted his thumb to bend her fingers slightly over her palm.

“But it is not her I want to marry, and it is not her I will love,” future tense, so that she knew it was not an option for his future. He kissed the top of her ring finger then, and kept her slightly closed hand near his lips, as he spoke on, “And she is pretty, Caireann. She is smart. She is all those things and I still do not want her, because I find you to be more than she is, to me. Your hair is gorgeous,” he reached out with his free hand to touch it again, drawing a few strands forward and over her shoulder, “the blond tinted with hints of red, like gold cast into fire.”

His eyes lifted then to hers, “Your eyes, which seem at once like honey and grass, a hazel hue that seems to never be one color,” the hand that had touched her hair, now moved to brush a finger over a cheek, near the eye, but not close enough to threaten touching it, “Your skin and its freckles – sun-kissed, each time it must have seen you, it must have given you one. But it is not your physical beauty that captures my attention only. You have spoken sense throughout,” he smiled.

“Mostly, throughout – there are still some fairy tales I doubt, but the warging, you knew before I did.” He still could not stop it, but she had known, “You are open-minded and open-hearted. You are merciful, and many other things I am learning of you still, and I only want to know more. Valyrian rolls off your tongue so easily,” he moved her hand down then from his lips, from between them, “And you will one day learn to fight well with a staff, I suspect,” he chuckled, and tilted her head up with his fingers beneath her chin, “I love you. I have not been angry with you for my indiscretion. I worry what I can do to show you it is unneeded, but I am still the one erring,” he leaned forward then, to place a kiss to her lips, soft as ever, sweet as honey.

~***~

Lenore did hear the quip about Bolton and thought to throw her pillow at Jaime – but it was her last pillow. She wasn’t giving it up. Instead, the deep and slow breath she’d taken in came out heavier, but other than that there was no indication she’d heard it. She was still trying to pretend they weren’t there. That she could sleep this off and wake up sane.

Well, saner.

“I would give you all the gold I had to my name, if you could get Lord Bolton to dance with Ser Loras, Jaime. I would dance with the Daisy if you could get Ser Loras to dance with Bolton,” just for the sheer humiliation of it for Lord Bolton. It would make his own dance with the Daisy be forgotten easily enough as others laughed in their cups at the dance Bolton shared with the Knight of Flowers.

If it weren’t for his son, Ramsay, Hill would certainly question if Bolton had any sort of appetite for women. Or men. Or anything, really. Bolton was…creepy, to say the least. The Flayed Men earned their name. “I’ll be gentle enough with him so we can make sure he gets another dance partner.” Hill added.

As if Loras would be terribly upset if he was all that cruel, anyway.

Well, maybe. He hadn’t taken his loss too gracefully.

 

[peritwinkle]

Robb was not angry at her, and for that Caireann only felt gratitude. He knew it was not within her power to change her emotions when it came to situations as delicate as that. He had hurt her the same way, twice, and even if she acknowledged it had not been her fault entirely for their slight distancing, she could not help but blame herself. For showing weakness and immaturity. For leashing out at him when she should have listened and tried to understand his point.

Allof those worries were washed away as he proved his love through words and sweet kisses that left warm trails behind him on the flesh that burnt at his touch. He promised that it was not the rose whom he loved, and with each compliment that flattered her, with each poetic praise spoken with ardent sincerity, her cheeks caught a deeper shade of crimson, until she could no longer look into his eyes. He loved her in that moment, and there was not a single doubt. No reason for her to fear their future, for she knew she would always be his only Queen.

And he would always be her King.

His lips found hers, passionate but gentle, and she met the kiss with a similar desire. In spite of her pain, the touch soothed her, and only made her lust for more, deepening the kiss too eagerly. She wanted it to last forever; did not wish to ever have to break away from him as her arms wrapped around his shoulders to pull him closer to her. "I love you," she echoed against his lips, which had caught the taste of honey from her own. To her, they were much sweeter than any relish Mina brought her. "I love you..."'and I want to show it to you, every single day, every single moment that we breathe.'

It was her need to say it, again and again, more than simply the habit. She wanted to hear herself saying it, in hopes that he would repeat as well, a thousand times, or until she interrupted the movement of his lips with another kiss. It was how they were meant to be - not apart, but always a part of eachother and always together.

~***~

Jaime only let out a chuckle at Lenore's irritation, but struggled to keep a straight face as he spoke to Hill. "I would sell my leg to see that," because he knew it would be impossible. Bolton was too sour to even do it for the fun of it, nevertheless truly dance for simple pleasure. In truth, he doubted that Loras would ever even wish to dance with him; he appeared to interested in lions to even pay attention to an iceberg like Roose. Cold, dangerous and lacking a vibrant personality... other than his frigidity.

It was the way the Northeners were, and they contrasted too much with those from the West, who were more charismating and compelling. Kind, as well, for having offered his daughter a better home than Tyrion and he ever could have. Not to mention that the lions had spread their looks throughout the land; their faces were similar, but always a pleasure to look at. Hill was the perfect combination between pretty and dangerous; no wonder the Daisy loved him so much.

"Do you know that song - The Bear and the Maiden Fair?" he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "Caireann used to love it as a child," but he had not taken any interest in her musical preferences lately, which was a rather significant mistake on his part, if he ever planned to get close to her. What was her favourite colour, any way? Blue? Red? "I want to see Lymond dance to that. He will be the bear, and guess who gets to be the maiden?"

Definitely not himself, and for once, Jaime was thankful that he could not dance. And, after his outburst, the bear deserved to feel good for once, even if it was thanks to the alcohol.

Many things would happen during the feast in the presence of alcohol, in truth, and Jaime could already pocture himself sitting at a table and watching Lenore dance with regret to why he had come in the first place written all over his face. He knew he would have to endure that, knew she would not come to spend the evening with him and that Caireann would be too distracted dancing the night away to even notice his presence, and that angered him even more. He would be doomed to spend it bearing small talk at the cripple table with Willas Tyrell.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb’s own desires were met as Caireann deepened the kiss eagerly, and he drew closer to her, the hand at her chin now moving to place itself at the back of her neck. His other hand moved down, resting over her covered thigh as he moved himself closer to her, letting his thumb press over the cloth, press into the covered the flesh.

Were she not ill, he would have wished to press her down. Her words of love and his sense of victory brought him joy. Knowing that she wanted him as ever, though he had hurt her, inspired him to want more of her then.

Once, and again, she spoke of her love for him, and Robb did echo it after the second time, “I love you, as well,” smiled, almost, at the playful way they echoed those words, but with no less sincerity each time. Again, he caught her lips, and he did start to lean forward and press her down, but he wouldn’t lean so far as to lay her down then. Sanity still remained, even if the adjustment of his weight caused his hand to press harder down on her thigh.

His thumb caressing it, circular motions over the cloth, before he broke away again to catch his breath and his resolve once more, because his breath was starting to get heavy. Ragged. Lust was biting into him once again, and he wished to deny it, even if he also did not want to deny it at all – he should, if she was dizzy and unwell, it was hardly the time to lie her down and have her.

He pulled away, but lifted his hands to take her wrists, and he pulled both in front of them, together, letting his hand act as if it were a rope for a moment, keeping them positioned as such, and he let a smile come to his lips, “You should go get a clean bill of health from Lenore, Caireann. Then we can go to the market…and return, with whatever we find there.” His other hand moved to finish the close of her wrists in his hands.

He could spend more time with her. He just had to make the orders that a feast be prepared, tell Lenore when he saw her that she could come to the feast, and then go out with Caireann. Return with Caireann. If they found a dress, she could model it…and then he’d be sure to remove it before it got dirty from wear.

~***~

It was a pity they would not be able to get Roose to dance with Loras. It would have been quite the sight. Hill would just have to imagine it and enjoy it, as Lenore seemed annoyed. Talk shifted to other songs – or one in particular. “Who doesn’t know that song?” Heard it plenty as a child.

His aunts referred to certain men as bears. Rarely, in a kind fashion. He smirked at the thought of Lymond as one, and Lenore finally rolled onto her side, which meant she’d actually started to doze. She was finally getting comfortable, and not just trying to ignore them.

Good, he supposed. Let her rest after all of this.

“Caireann would be the Maiden, of course,” Jaime probably intended for it to be him. Always Lady Hill. It would follow him to his grave. “Or perhaps, Loras could be. I don’t think he’d fit it quite as well, though. His hair doesn’t make me think of honey.” Even if he was a flower, he didn’t seem at all honeyed.

Hill thought to ask, then, “Besides the Rains,” just in case, “what is your favorite song, Jaime? Certainly you have one,” everyone had a favorite song. It might be the Rains of Castamere, of course – such a proud song for any Lannister. Hill just wanted to know what it was besides that, curious if it would be a bawdy tune or a ballad, mostly.

 

[peritwinkle]

Robb's kiss burnt through her like fire, firm and demanding, as though it were for the first time he tasted her lips. He gave her few moments to catch her breath, and when she did, his own sounded rugged, lustful. There was a scalding desire in him that he knew he had to smother, even as his hand explored her thigh with circling caresses and gentle grips.

There was no Margaery in that moment to stand between them, no other woman whom he could love but her. He reciprocated the words of love and spoke with the same passion, but did not push her down on the bed to prove them. Instead, he broke the kiss to breathe once again and caught her wrists between his own to hold her still, like rope and silk. It was a thing of their own, it seemed, and she did not enjoy it any less right then. It only reminded her that he was her King, and she belonged to him, all of her.

The only truth she knew was that she was his, and he was hers, forever.

There was a playful smile on his lips as he mentioned Lady Reyne again and her state of health. Her sickness hadn't faded, but her feelings had taken over her body and made her forget about it. Once reality crashed back in, the lust was once again replaced by dizziness and ailment, which she knew would take a while to fade away. She would have to be treated if she had any intentions to go to the market with him that day and truly enjoy it.

"Yes," Caireann nodded quickly, but before she would rise, she placed a warm peck on his cheek. "But I want to be left alone with her... If you do not mind." If Lenore confirmed her assumptions of a possible pregnancy, she did not want Robb to witness. So, she stood up slowly to maintain her balance and pulled him along with her, never breaking their touch, and would allow him to lead her outside of their room and towards Lady Reyne's own quarters.

~***~

"No, no, Lady Hill,"Jaime chuckled quietly then, as he noticed Lenore had managed to fall asleep at once. "You underestimate yourself... You would make a prettier maiden than Ser Daisy." Even if Loras looked more feminine than Hill; Lenore was not a dandelion, and yet in his eyes she was more attractive than any woman right then, even Cersei, perhaps. It seemed that he had a thing for dangerous women whom he did not have the right to love.

The inquiry of a favourite song came rather unexpectedly from someone like him; Jaime had not expected the bastard to be accustomed to them, considering he did not strike him as one who frequented inns. "I don't have any favourite," he shrugged. In truth, he had never thought about it either, for he only danced when required, and that was too rare to even take into consideration. Feasts back home consisted of sitting around a table, eating, talking and then struggling to go back to bed after too much alcohol.

There were few that he could remember, and one of them - which he did not know the name of - depicted the portrait of two lovers who thought of themselves as King and Queen of their own. It reminded him of Caireann and Robb, briefly, but only because he had only heard Caireann sing it from time to time, when they took walks in the garden. She often got distracted and began humming, but her voice was too beautiful to disturb the silence.

Her and Sansa Stark had something in common then, aside from their love for another Stark.

Poor child.

"And fuck the Rains," he added with a long breath, turning his eyes to the Reyne that slept soundly near him. "That is all they know in King's Landing... They hum a few verses and harlots come to them like dogs." The words threatened to remain stuck in his head for the rest of his life, only this once they would be accompanied by the sight of Lenore Reyne herself, which only made it more dreadful to remember.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb did mind, but he also understood that people did not always like others to know their weaknesses or fragilities. So long as she listened to Lenore, and Caireann seemed to, then it would be fine not to have another witness to her ailment. “All right. Just be sure to have a guard escort you out,” it would be Ser Hill at this hour, he knew. She and Ser Hill seemed to get on well enough. He had brought her a book, after all. “If you want to see me after, ask the guard to come find me.”

Until then, he would have to begin to make the arrangements for the feast. He supposed he did need the time to be busy with those preparations, before he went to enjoy the afternoon with Caireann.

He would rise then, and let Caireann pull him alongside her, before he would lead her out in order to escort her on up to Lenore’s room. He was a bit slower than usual, both to linger and to make sure that Caireann was not going to fall or stumble. As they came up the stairs, he could hear the low voices of Jaime and Hill. When he reached the door, he knocked, and waited, expecting Hill to answer as he always did.

~***~

“Liar,” Hill accused Jaime when he said he had no favorites. It seemed something impossible, no matter how baseborn. Music was everywhere. Bards played out of taverns, and minstrels played at the balls. In better days, Lenore used to hum a song he didn’t know, and she claimed she didn’t know it, either. Just a remembered melody, from her better days. He suspected now it had been a lullaby that Roger or Sybil had sung – something never written down, never made for anyone but her.

He hadn’t heard it in a while. She must have forgotten the melody, too.

He nodded his agreement with the ‘Rains’. “Of course they do – those with the Lannisters usually have gold,” Hill noted. It went hand in hand, and so harlots knew which side to support if they wanted better odds at wealth. The Lannisters.

There was movement from the stairwell and Hill rose, “Well, I’ve always preferred Dance of the Dragons,” there was something haunting about it that appealed to Hill. The way it imagined the tragedy of Old Valyria, and those who died in it…it was not a song he’d listen to regularly, no song he would dance to, but a song he would always call favorite for the first time he’d heard it, everything stopped.

He hadn’t understood it. It had been in High Valyrian the first time, and he’d rushed to the man of Volantis to ask him what it meant, what it was. The whores had laughed, but the merchant had been gentle with him and sung him the version in the common tongue. It was why he always seemed to spot Valyrian things when he was out and about – how he’d seen the book to get Caireann. The history of it intrigued him, even if there was no time for history in his life.

The knock disturbed Lenore from her sleep, just as Hill opened the door. She startled, sat up too quickly, and turned her head towards the door, squinting as if she could see who was there in the darkness of it. The voices instead answered it for her.

“Lord Stark, Lady Lannister,” Hill greeted both.

Robb nodded, “Caireann is here to see Lady Reyne,” Robb said, before Hill could ask.

“Ah, let me—”

“I’m awake,” it came sighed, as Lenore forced herself to stand so she wouldn’t fall back in protest at this ‘awake’ status.

Hill gave a slight smile, and motioned for her to come in.

 

[peritwinkle]

From Robb's tone in his voice, it was clear that it did bother him to leave her there alone, but she was glad when he did not refuse it. She took his hand and followed him towards Lady Reyne's room, keeping silent through the corridor to not draw any unwanted attention right then. Her walking was sheepish and lacked energy, as though she were ready to faint any moment. Mina would not be pleased to hear they had gone to see a medic without informing her, but it would have been useless to have her wait outside the door with Robb.

When the door to her quarters opened, it was Ser Hill who greeted them with a warm smile brightening his face, and it forced Caireann to display the same cordiality before them. "I am sorry if I am disturbing," for Lenore had been sleeping, and she had awakened her. "I would like to speak to her... in private." And the woman did rise to come towards them, as Ser Hill moved aside to let them in, but instead she turned to Robb to say goodbye.

"There is nothing you should worry about," she reassured him once again and lightly squeezed his hand before eventually letting go. She could feel three pairs of eyes watching her, but there was nothing left to hide of her affections. Jaime knew, at least, and he had already spoken his mind in front of her once.

She would not allow him to do that again, after the hell she had been through.

And he was, indeed, staring at the two, but when Caireann turned back around to face them he averted his gaze from her and pretended to be struggling with a knotted lace from his shirt. There were too many things he wanted to say at once, but the thought that clouded his mind most was that the rumours had been true, and the girl was indeed feeling unwell. Even if she hadn't mentioned it, she was pale and weak in the knees, more than one would be if they were simply in love. It ate at him, but he had no right to ask what was wrong.

Instead, he stood up from his seat on the bed and shifted his weight onto the crutches to limp towards the study. He would not protest her need for privacy; understanding was the way towards making up with her, if that was even an option in the future after what he had said to her. After what she thought of him - a monster, nonetheless. His heart was pained, but he forced himself to maintain his composure. "Come," he instructed Hill, even if the man would not have stayed there either. "Let them speak."

He had enough time to question Lenore afterwards, but he had a feeling it was simply something she would not reveal. Women were secretive by nature, mysteries to men and other women alike. Typical.

 

[Lucyfer]

In private. Ser Hill would have assumed as much regardless, or at least, without Jaime present. It struck him to know how long she might carry a grudge against Jaime, but it was the man’s own doing for reacting as he did. For never telling Caireann the truth in much of anything – he deserved her resentment for a while. “Of course,” Hill nodded slightly.

Robb managed a smile at her reassuring words, and gave a nod. He stepped back, fixing his gaze briefly on Lenore. He added then, “You may come to the feast tomorrow evening, if you like,” because this would mean he did not have to make another trip to see her, to say as much. No debate needed – she could come, or she could stay.

Lenore managed a nod, alert and awake enough now that she was on her feet. Then, Lord Stark left them, and Ser Hill shut the door after Caireann. He moved after Jaime. He had no plans to stay, if Caireann wanted privacy, so it was back to the hell that was study. Ser Hill was only going to associate that room with long and uncomfortable stays with Jaime, while they waited for Lenore to finish up whatever business she was tending to.

Lenore waited until both the men had disappeared into the study, then gestured for Caireann to sit wherever she liked, running a hand distractedly through her hair, only to remember it was all put back in a braid. She undid it, as she asked, “What is wrong, Caireann?” It did not take a genius to know she was not here for a pleasant conversation. Her appearance alone suggested it, as did her reassurance of Lord Stark.

Something was amiss. That was clear by the paleness of her skin. Lenore had her suspicions, of course, but would not jump to any conclusions. She would wait to listen to what it was Caireann was experiencing. Then she’d narrow down the list of possibilities, and consider what could be done to aid Caireann, regardless of what it was.

After all, it might not be pregnancy. It might be something much simpler than that – something eaten, a simple illness brought by the Tyrells that the rest of the camp would be feeling. Plagues tended to arise in mixed camps and mixed environments, when one was not exposed to them. It could be any number of things. It could also be pregnancy, in which case Caireann certainly had Lenore's sympathies for already experiencing such symptoms. It meant she was likely going to have a long and uneasy term until the child was born...and then hopefully the act itself would not be too difficult to bear.

 

[peritwinkle]

There was something more than concern written in Caireann's eyes as she sat down on the edge of the bed as Lenore instructed. Dread was the right word to describe what lurked in her mind and heart right then. She waited for the room to empty, gathering her words and trying to shape them into logical sentences, but she could not. She already knew the reason behind her sickness, knew what Lenore's answer would be to her questions, and yet she still found herself speaking before her.

"This morning," she started weakly, "I was invited to have tea with Lord Willas and Lady Margaery. She... was rather flirtatious with Robb, and at first I thought... I thought it was what caused all of this, but it wasn't." Her indecency had only bothered and upset her immensely, and in spite of the painful knot that had formed in her throat then, it was not the reason for her ailment. "It was the tea, like you indicated, the aroma... I used to love lavender, but it made me weak in the knees, and by the time I reached my quarters, I could barely hold myself up on my feet."

Robb had had to carry and support her, and until then, she barely managed to maintain her posture in front of him. Mina had noticed it in an instant, and advised her to visit Lady Reyne, but she had refused. It was, perchance, why she felt so unwell then, still nauseous, but at least strong enough to walk and talk normally.

"And yesterday, Mina told me I have gained weight," which she could not notice yet, for she saw herself in the mirror too often to be able to tell a difference. "I know... I know what you are thinking... But please tell me there could be other causes... My father hasn't answered my letters yet, and I cannot marry Robb without his permission. If I went home with a bastard baby, Cersei would kill both me and my child."

~***~

Shielded by the walls of the study, Jaime's heart pounded wildly in his chest at the thoughts that muddled his mind and tormented him again. Caireann's tranquility as she spoke, her lack of interest in him, those were what disquieted him so. He struggled to fool himself with the idea that, perhaps, it was her apparent illness that did not make room for affection towards him, but he knew there was some resentment left in her after their argument.

"She expected more of me," the lion mumbled in defeat as he let himself fall back into the seat by the desk. The crutches fell on the floor with a loud thump, but he did not seem to have heard the noise. "After what they have done to her... All of them... She sees saviours in her father and her uncle." They were supposed to love and protect her, and whilst Tyrion could not do much in those times, Jaime was supposed to be the one to show her that she was not alone.

Not a Stark.

His eyes shot up to Hill, beaten and discouraged; it still hurt him more than it should have. "I have made a big mistake, haven't I? She probably has illusions of marriage with that boy... While she still sees me as a monster." Joffrey should have been the monster in her eyes; Tywin, Cersei. But not him. "She even loves you more than she loves me. Oh, but you haven't yelled at her and broken her heart like me, have you? Why do women have to be so frail and sensitive?!"

 

[Lucyfer]

Weight gain, already. Though of course, Lenore did not know how far along Caireann truly was.

The smell was the one Lenore expected first, because it had come first for her, but hearing it now only caused her to sigh with all the rest. Nausea. This pregnancy was indeed going to be an arduous one.

She spoke softly, so her voice would not carry beyond the walls of the study. “There are plenty of things those individual symptoms could belong to. Perhaps the lavender was simply a stronger one than you were used to. Perhaps, you are eating more than you used to, or fattier foods than the norm.” She did not believe that Caireann was more active in the past. Lenore certainly was, but she would resume that once she was out of this confinement.

Go back to Torrent. Go back to actually moving about, beyond pacing. Oversee her army, practice her archery. There was much waiting for her outside of this cage.

“There may be an illness the Tyrells brought with them, and these are only the beginning symptoms. Another plague to sweep the camp of those unused to the Tyrell host,” Lenore offered, “You may even be deluding yourself with your worries, and so your body is responding by producing the symptoms of your delusion,” rare, but not unheard of. Aeron had told her a story of a woman who deluded herself that she was pregnant, until her body went through something akin to a miscarriage.

“We could treat it as any of those things,” Lenore said softly, “and in time, the truth would reveal itself. Nine months or so,” Lenore gave a wane smile, “But I suspect it is pregnancy in this case, Caireann.” She had every right to be afraid for it. After all, such was the reason Lenore would not bear children. Fear. “But you do not truly think Robb would cast you aside if you had his child, do you? To leave you to Cersei and let his child die? Even if he would not marry you, I do not think he would abandon the mother of his child, or his child. He has a bastard brother himself."

~***~

Jaime was bitter in these times. Hill wanted to be amused, but in truth he could not be. Jaime was like the women he supposedly spoke of – fragile and sensitive. “I do not know, Lady Lannister,” Hill quipped, “Why don’t you ask yourself?” He let his back press to the door and shut his eyes, “Honestly it seems a trait of your family. Your father’s pride was pricked, and he responded dramatically. Your brother drinks himself into an early grave. Your sister…well, her antics are on display for the entire country. And then there’s you,” as if that needed explanation, “at times I’m glad I am not more like any of you.”

Lannister blood he might have, but he was not a Lannister. He never would be a Lannister. When all was said and done, he might even keep ‘Hill’, if they won. He was not certain what other name there was for him. He had always been Ser Hill.

The Westerlands would need a new bastard name if he turned it noble.

“Lady Reyne is hardly as you speak. Lady Mormont. Lady Tully. The Ladies Tyrell.” All of these women were strong, “My mother,” occasionally manic, but not weak. Not fragile. “But Caireann is young. Perhaps it is only her youth and sheltered life to blame, Jaime.”

 

[peritwinkle]

As Lenore tried to convince her that pregnancy could not be the only cause of her symptoms, Caireann was only growing more and more concerned. It was mostly the pitiful tone in her voice which awakened her anxieties more than anything, for it was clear that there was more to it, and it did not take long before she did confirm everything. She did believe that she was carrying a baby, for she had been suspecting that for a while now, and so had Mina.

The woman spoke of Robb, and her doubts that he would abandon her, but as much as she tried to soothe the situation, there was always the chance that they would be broken apart one day, by war or circumstances. "It is not up to him, Lady Lenore." Robb had a duty to fulfill, as a leader and a King. "As much as I love him... As much as we love eachother, this damnable world has no room for such feelings." It was why she admired her so much - for her emotional strength and ability to overcome those feelings, sharper than any blades.

It should have been a blessing to carry a child; they wanted to marry eachother, after all. But to her, it was more a tragedy, for there was no certainty that they would be able to live their lives together to the very end. She did not wish to dishonour her father by marrying the enemy against his wishes, and if too much time passed until he returned the correspondence, if her pregnancy became too obvious, Robb and she would have to pay dearly.

Much more than they could ever afford - than she would let him afford.

"He means the world to me, Lady Reyne," Caireann spoke passionately, her voice trembling at those words. "He has made me feel happy, safe, for once in my life, you couldn't understand... But I do not wish to become a burden to my family... To him. What would my uncle think? He would..." not kill her, but despise her for many years to come, if not forever. "Him and Robb are all that I have now. I cannot lose them, or I risk to lose myself."

~***~

Jaime wanted to be irritated at Hill's amusement in this situation, but simply could not. He was right in all that meant his flaws, and perhaps he was indeed just as sensitive as those women he spoke of and criticised. It had taken him too long to step over his vanity and try to change his perspective, and that had come way too late, long after he hurt his daughter. The only whom he truly loved, and had taken care of the best he could, or at least the best he thought he had.

"It isn't merely her youth to blame," he snarled, "but what they have done to her, for my stupid mistake. I allowed myself to fall for Rosalind's charms in front of Cersei I should have been more careful..." Had he been so, that woman would still have been alive, and Caireann - a happier child. Still unloved, for being the daughter of the black sheep in the family, but she would have an affectionate mother to keep her safe. Perhaps that way, she would never have been involved in that war.

He felt his insides burning at the thought that he had caused all of this. He should have listened to Tyrion and let her stay at home. She had left it with an argument, and for the first time in her life she was reckless and ambitious to pursue such a whim. Jaime had humoured it, and now he had to pay for his mistakes.

"You see, this is why she sees Lenore as a motherly figure," he couldn't look into his eyes, but his gestures showed more than just anger. "This is why loves all of you and despises me. Because I cannot keep my mouth shut." Because of his ignorance to her feelings. Had he been given another chance, he would not have avoided lecturing her, but proceeded in a kinder way. Polite, at least, and things would have gone differently.

 

[Lucyfer]

Children. Caireann was a child herself carrying a child, hardly prepared for this. In another circumstance, Lenore might have mentioned the tea right off – but this was a child made of love. It was not a child made from using someone else. It was not truly unwanted, it was just in a bad situation. Caireann could overcome that.

“There are truths to ballads, Caireann, else they would not exist. People had to see such happiness to believe it could be possible,” she had to soothe her, even if the odds were against her. Lenore moved to her then, to sit besides her on the edge of the bed, remaining calm and poised all the way.

“You can choose to defy Tyrion,” she could not rightfully call him Caireann’s father, so she used his name, “You must have some hope that he will agree, though, if you have already written him,” and she could hold to that. Lenore folded her hands in her own lap, “Robb will love you all the more for a child.”

Lenore had no doubts of that. Robb came from a large family, and it was family that drove him to act. Family would keep him together, as well. He had the support of his mother with him, but a wife and child would make him feel happier. Secure. Hopeful for the future. Emotional strength was needed in war as much as physical strength and quick wits. “Never mind what Jaime thinks.” He had no room to judge. Caireann was born a bastard to him.

Actually…, “He is upset with himself enough over what he has said to you from before. He does not want to lose you,” she reached to touch Caireann’s cheek, light, fingertips over the flushed skin, “He may be upset with this…but he does not want to lose you,” reiterated. “You will not lose them. Not by their choice.” By war, by violence, by being pushed away – yes. But never by Robb or Jaime’s choice.

~***~

“You should have been a lot of things, but you’re not,” Hill stated flatly, “Loyal would be the first thing.” Kingslayer. Then he cheated on his own sister with his brother’s wife – put some of his claims of being a good brother aside. Not to mention he was a terrible son, throwing away Casterly Rock to be with his sister. Then cheating on her.

Jaime should have been many things, but he was none of those.

“Quiet is certainly another thing you could be,” Hill added, “Or at least better with words – but Lenore’s had practice.” Too much practice, for too long. Lies were her first language. “You’ll get your chance to make amends regardless, Jaime. Not at the feast. I’m not having another scene at the feast.” He wanted to make that perfectly clear. He was there to enjoy himself.

“You still have to wait until she’s been softened enough to want to see you and understand you meant no harm the first time.” Well…not the harm that she felt, anyway. He probably meant some of the harm. That was the problem with families. Harm was meant, as a deterrent. Didn’t seem to work on Jaime…Hill couldn’t imagine Tywin was ever an indulgent father who didn’t punish Jaime.

Where did they go wrong with him? How did Tywin’s son end up like…this?

 

[peritwinkle]

With the soothing words echoing in her ears, Caireann could feel her heart twist with worry and fear. She did not wish to cry in front of Lenore, even as the woman showed sympathy and kindness. It still felt strange to her to show such weakness in front of others, especially someone whom she looked up to and admired particularly for her emotional strength and courage. It was what she strived to become, how she struggled to be for Robb's sake if not her own.

She almost wanted to laugh when she mentioned ballads; she had not expected such idea to part the lips of someone like her, and yet, there was truth in her words which she could not deny. They had fallen in love so quickly, stepped over the chaos and shattered it with affection and avidity, as though they were writing a story of their own.

As if the Gods had wanted them to meet, and they were made for one another.

At her touch, Caireann leaned in and closed her eyes. "No, not by their choice," the girl bit her lip, cheek pressed to her palm. 'But Robb has orders to follow... I do not belong with him.' She did not say it, but the mere thought of it struck her too painfully. Jaime - she had almost lost him for her ignorance, and whilst both her and Hill tried to reassure that he did not hate her, it was difficult not to see the glass as half empty.

"I miss him, Lady Reyne," tears already gathering in her eyes and threatening to spill. "They are the only family I have, truly... I have already erred once, and almost pushed him away completely. I am too afraid to speak to him and tell him how I feel," and she did not feel ready to make this step, for she knew it was not her mistake to apologise for. And she would not, for he had hurt her immensely, yet this pride that was beginning to cloud her mind as well could bring her doom instead of confidence and happiness.

~***~

Jaime was well aware of what he could be then, but knew it was too late to change everything. He was flawed - too flawed, perhaps, and that kept him away from making the right choices. Because of him, Rosalind had died; because of him, Caireann never had a loving family that protected and cared for her; because of him, both Lenore and Cersei would be hurt, for even if he were to part from his Ghost, one day the truth would come out. His sister never failed to discover it all.

He intended to try to enjoy himself at the feast as much as he could, even if he would not be able to dance. Wine, there would be enough; Northern beer was chewy and bitter, but alcohol was alcohol, and he would need it, considering he presumably had to spend his night surrounded by Tyrells. Even the bastard Hill would dance, and it pained him to think Caireann was to be his partner at least once. Jaime had never danced with her before, but in truth, he could not remember the last time she was allowed to attend a feast.

"I don't know anything about her," he sighed and shook his head. "Only from her childhood... That loved dandelions. She used to bring me a whole bunch and challenge me to blow them away before her." In those rare moments that they got to spend time together, Jaime had learnt to love and appreciate her as more than just a lion - a niece, a daughter. His cub. Someone whom he had to protect from the claws of Cersei and Joffrey alike.

"How can I understand her feelings when I do not know her? She was right." He was a monster, maybe, but at least one who only wished the best for her, even if he failed to show it each time... Miserably. "Thank the Gods you do not have children, Adryan. And if you ever will..."

 

[Lucyfer]

"They will both move mountains for you," Lenore said, smiling a bit as the girl leaned into her hand. She did wish, then, that she could bring back memory of her father's lullaby. A strange thought, but she wanted to comfort Caireann more than lecture her on these follies. Yet, she no longer recalled it. Not a word. The melody she had tried to preserve was lost as well, mixed and mangled by so many other songs. Of all things lost to time, Lenore counted that the cruelest.

At least Caireann did miss Jaime, though. That was a good sign. She seemed to want to see him, though she did not ask for it, "He asks Hill of you frequently." Lenore told her. "If you like I can get him. He does not need to know of this yet," though it would be difficult for Lenore not to tell him when Caireann was gone. A father should know...but they did not have the relationship she had established with Tybalt. That she may have had with Roger.

Otherwise they wouldn't be in this mess of emotional chaos. Lenore was still a mess from Tybalt's words but she was not angry with them. He was right and she knew his intentions. She had...needed the verbal slap to pull her senses together. She was not Nora Hetherspoon - she could not live and pursue such follies as if she was.

Caireann had options. A love that could last if Robb gave up the Frey. It was foolish to believe it, and Lenore considered the odds low, but she was optimistic for some things. Today she would try to be, for this. They had a Tyrell alliance. They would take Casterly and defeat Tywin.

Why not this as well?

~***~

In spite of her romantic affair with Lord Stark, it was only to easy to imagine Caireann as a child. She retained her innocence well, even if her childhood had been brutal to her. She believed in a hopeful future - odd that such was how Hill judged innocence but it was. It was different than hoping for a good future - Caireann seemed to think it would actually happen.

Perhaps if Jaime had blown enough dandelions out then her future would be. "You could try reading," the bastard suggested. "Helps with the imagination. Empathy." Jaime wanted to know how to know his daughter and understand her without putting in the work of spending time with her. Hill's clever answer was probably not appreciated, though.

"If I ever will, I will be a better father than you." Hill stated with firm resolve. Being a bastard had always made him view it differently. He rarely acted on lust. He did not wish to condemn another to his life - even if he would never abandon them. A bastard of a bastard - it was a terrible joke.

Hill would wait or else have none. He would be a good father or never be one. It was too cruel to the child otherwise, not worth the time spent in another's embrace. He was not that selfish.

 

[peritwinkle]

'Little do they know I would do the same...'

There was no place for anything but love in Caireann's heart in that moment, for Robb, Jaime and Lady Reyne alike. Even if she did not show it all the time, the appreciation was clearly there; the trust, that assured her the woman had not meant her bitter words towards Robb that day, and in fact did understand the feelings they had for eachother were genuine.

Although with her heart still thudding in her chest, she did not feel well enough to face her uncle right then. It was a gest that required the strength she very much lacked in her state of ailment. "Tomorrow," Caireann promised with a long breath. "I will... I will speak to him." She did not wish to mention the pregnancy anymore, for she had already made up her mind. If Lenore truly believed that there was a chance of happiness for them and their baby, then she would humour her.

"Tea?" she offered quickly and straightened her back. The sensation of her hand on her cheek still lingered, sweet and soothing, but the pain was still vivid. "Robb wants to take me to the market today, to buy me a dress," she smiled at the thought and canted her head. "I would like to look well until then, if there is anything you could do." Her words were steady, even if she struggled to maintain her composure. The warmth in the room almost lured her to sleep, which only fed her languor.

She made a mental note to ask Robb to save some money for Ser Hill, as well, since he had bought her the poem book. It had been an easy read, but too short, although she could not afford to ask for another. The Starks were not as rich as her own kin, and even if they had been, the focus of Robb's wealth should be his men and the integrity of his cause, rather than childish whims.

~***~

Reading. It was one of the activities Jaime resented the most; he was a knight, not a scholar. It was not expected of him to be rich in intellect, and yet, he found himself having to explain the hatred over it each time. This once, he did not, and resorted to keeping his lips pursed as Hill spoke, awaiting the change in subject.

Perhaps he would make for a good father; he was better than him in too many ways, even if it hurt his pride to admit it. A golden bastard, better than the son of Tywin Lannister - an odd sentence, but not any less true than any. "Then perhaps Caireann will love you more than she loves me," he said bitterly then, but his eyes did not dare to provoke him. He knew what that bastard could say when stroked, and he could not bear any more kicks in the guts.

He had stung him with his words of how Caireann thought of herself as futile and worthless. How she thought she would not be missed if she died, how she believed he did not love her. All of those, lies, and whilst he had wanted to believe they were not true coming from Hill's mouth, it was impossible with how the man had reacted, and the way his eyes burnt with hatred and regret.

"What do I do if she wants to marry him?" Jaime found himself asking; the thought had been lingering on his mind for a long while. The idea of marriage came so easily to younglings those days. They felt a shiver in their stomachs and thought it to be love, but did that idiocy not describe him as well? He had been willing to compromise his relationship with Cersei for the sake of another woman... Now the Reyne, yet another.

But that was something else. Caireann was a child, and Robb Stark was the man who knew how to value her more than he ever could. Unacceptable.

 

[Lucyfer]

Tomorrow. Lenore made a note to try and be kind or vague at least that long. Jaime could cling to anger. He might lash out at Caireann again if he was upset by her. "Whenever you like, Lady Lannister." Lenore conceded. It was her choice, after all. It would not be forced on her - not by them.

At the mention of tea, Lenore Rose and nodded, "I understand. I have some things that may help to treat the symptoms." Besides tansy, the alternative option had been considered for Caireann or others in her shoes. Lenore found her box of life and death and sorted what she needed into a mesh bag, more than would be necessary for one cup.

There was the future to consider. "Right now this peppermint blend is best. Later, raspberry will be better," Lenore told her as she prepped the ingredients, and started one cup for now. "I have a mild peppermint but it may still bother you. Just...hold your breath when you drink." If lavender bothered her, peppermint might. She would have to endure. Raspberry was not good for her. Not yet.

When Lenore finished with the bag, she offered it to Caireann, "Just steep it a bit, add any sweetener you like, and drink. That should be good for seven. When you need more just come to me," and then she turned back to the kettle itself and poured a cup for Caireann, and held it out for her.

~***~

Hill just sighed and shook his head, "I have no plans of taking your place, Lannister." Did not want to be Caireann's father. Did not want any kids until the war was done and he could be present in their lives. He pitied those with families in war. It was a great hardship for all involved, but more for them.

Better to be as him or Lenore.

At marriage, Hill again found himself shaking his head before he shrugged. "Nothing, I suspect, but ask her to think it through and gently question her reasons. Tyrion is her known father. The matter of approving it is out of your hands. You can just...make sure she understands what she is doing by making her think of it, and then accept her decision." He couldn't deny it. Couldn't give his blessing, either.

He wasn't the father so far as Caireann knew. Jaime's options were limited but if he wanted her in his life, then he had to accept whatever happened - but make sure she went about it for the right reasons.

 

[peritwinkle]

The sickness that Caireann felt was thankfully not as intense as earlier before, but it still stung her each time she took a heartier breath. She fought to keep it down as Lenore opened the box and smells lifted into the air, peppermint the most fragrant of all. It was not too bothering, though, and mild enough to possibly allow her to drink it without holding her breath as Lenore instructed. After all, if she planned to visit the docks with Robb that evening, she would have to get used to strong scents – the sea, algae, perfume and spices.

A cup with hot water was given, and Caireann dipped the mesh bag into it, stirring lightly until it turned darker. "Thank you, Lady Reyne," she smiled softly. It was still too warm to drink, so she waited until it cooled down before bringing it to her lips to taste it. "Better than lavender," she sighed; she would probably never be able to enjoy that flavour again, since it would either bring back memories of their breakfast or the thought of illness, even if she had enjoyed it that once.

Once the tea was finished, she set the cup on the bedside, careful not to spill it on the white sheets, and lifted herself up from the comfort of the bed. "I am grateful for eveything," Caireann reassured, "but I would also like to ask if Ser Hill could escort me back." She did not want to upset Robb by going alone or with a stranger, and in truth, she was not sure if she could keep herself on her feet properly right then. It would still take time until the tea cured her sickness. "If it does not bother him, of course..."

She supposed that the knight would be occupied with protecting her and Jaime, although the path to her room was short enough. Nobody would harm them in his absence, and Lady Reyne had enough experience in battle to know how to wield a dagger if it came to such situations, but she knew it would not. It was her own self which they worried most about, for lions weren't meant to be caged. That was why Caireann thought of herself to be more of a seashell... She did not mind the solitude.

~***~

It would be proper to communicate with his daughter - niece - before making any assumptions and deciding against her wishes. It seemed to Hill that it was the right choice, as well, although in such situations he would have to proceed with delicacy and caution. The girl was still brittle after their fight, and he would consider himself lucky if she did come to inform him of such things. "What a good father," he sighed at the blond bastard and turned his head away. Always knowing the right way, but it made Jaime wonder if he ever applied those pieces of advice to himself.

He should have listened to her from the very beginning. Should have tried to understand her perspective and learn to accept it over time, just like he had with Joffrey. Even Cersei had given up trying to educate him, and whilst her other children were as kind and mellow as kittens, the other was as vile as a monster. Lannisters were stereotyped by everyone, wherever they went, but frankly they were all too different, barely ever sharing a trait or two. It was as though it hadn't been Tywin himself to bring them up.

Speaking of family, "You were born in a brothel, weren't you?" Jaime inquired, and eventually looked up at the man. Those who were orphans often leant how to take care of themselves from a young age; it was, probably, how he had learnt to fight – to protect his own life. Dirty, but effective. "Have you never... Seen someone you liked?" He would have suspected Lenore a long time before, but as he got to know him and the relationship he shared with the woman, it almost seemed impossible.

A Reyne would not have bothered herself with a bastard lion.

Truthfully, they all spoke of Yularen as the one who oddly took no interest in women, whilst Hill did not seem to have any intentions to marry soon. Nor did he have anything more than his own person to keep him warm at night, never coveting flesh, be it honest or bought. He would most likely not get along with his brother Tyrion.