Fangs and Claws [Closed]

[peritwinkle]

'That is what you keep telling yourself.' Jaime did not say it, for he knew there was no arguing with a stone, but his eyes said it all. He kept his gaze on her, never shifting away, gentle but at the same time, more or less judgemental. There were many things that he wished to say to her then, but he knew he could not.

Not while she was still open and vulerable.

He knew he was afraid. He saw it in her eyes and could not help but pity her for that fear that she felt. In the middle of war, while everyone was leaning on her and hoping for her frigidity to steel their own hearts. It was a selfish act, but one could argue that she was even more selfish from locking herself on the inside and refusing any help in the form of affection. She even refused help from her own self, which irked Jaime to the bones, yet there was no convincing to be done.

His lips parted to protest her being weak, when he caught the glimpse of a tear before she closed her eyes. It struck him, the sight of it, and he shot up from his position to pull her to him. One hand moved behind her head to press it to his chest, whilst the other wrapped around her shoulders. Even after such a long time without training, he was far widen than her and he could sense her fragility which she hid so well beneath that skin tinged by pallor.

"No, you cannot be weak, and neither can I," Jaime agreed with her through a murmur, "but feigned remissness will do nothing but weaken you more. You keep your walls up and do not act when it is attacked. Your ignorance will, one day, have it break." It was a path that he did not wish to follow himself yet saw it in so many others.

Thunders boomed near them as the skies threatened to unleash their wrath. It had stopped raining during the day, but now he could hear drops breaking against the windows of his room. He did not feel as tired as Lenore looked and he knew there was no forcing her to sleep. She would, perhaps, warm up and doze off by herself if she held her long enough. It was what he had used to do to Caireann in her childhood, whenever she refused to go to bed.

All that he could do was to offer a safe haven for a while. Let her cry, scream, shout, repine and, eventually, recoup.

 

[Lucyfer]

Jaime saw, before she was able to close her eyes. It was the only way to explain his quick gesture, to grab her before she would try to disappear and steel herself again. To freeze the tears in her eyes and never let them fall. Pressed to him, they couldn't freeze, and though she squeezed her eyes shut tighter, she still felt them melt and fall under his words. Harsh and true, but not spoken to deepen the wound. She had told Caireann to feel enough times to know how necessary it was to be sane. Human. A weakness, but a strength.

Jaime worried the same, and with ice dripping he wouldn't let her leave so easily to find her composure. The thought to push away was brief anyway, overcome instead by a choked sob. A secret then. Even if she still wanted to run she couldn't lest another see the tears. She pulled herself closer instead and let herself be held. Her body still fought the tears, the cries, tried to staunch them, choke them back, as if they were the worst sort of thing, but she hardly had the energy. Hardly the breath, and each seemed to tremble, not allowing her to even consider speaking sensibly.

To apologize. To thank him. To curse him. She wasn't sure which would be more appropriate.

Soon enough, the breaths evened out.

"You make me feel human." Murmured words meant to only be a thought. 'And I want to be....' that remained just a thought.

The rivlets stopped running, and the storm passed, to let her sleep, heedless of her location, and who held her. Such things didn't matter then, even if they would matter when she woke, and panicked over all that wasn't meant to be. Not him. Not weakness or tears. Not the safety she found here for secrets...they shared far too many. She was supposed to distance herself, not falter again.

 

[peritwinkle]

The warmth of her body against his was soothing; after so much time spent apart, he had almost forgotten how it felt holding her, talking to her, listening to her breathing and the beat of her heart. Perhaps he was the only one who thought it still existed and encouraged it beat, even if she refused to warm up to others. It was a matter of choice, whether she claimed it was involuntary or not. Something he knew would come to change one day.

Jaime's lips stretched into a slight smile at her words before she crashed in his arms, weighed down by the exhaustion accumulated on the road. She was tired mentally and physically alike, so even if they risked being caught in such a compromising prosition, he did not wake her up just yet. Not while everyone was likely enjoying dinner; they had time for themselves for a little while, then.

Minutes passed as she slept, that Jaime completely lost count. He could tell the time only by the position of the moon; it had popped up from behind the trees in the distance and so he knew that dinner was coming to an end. Steps echoed through the hallways, guards changing shifts and gentry returning to their quarters.

When the moon revealed itself completely through the clouds, brightening the sky darkened by an incoming storm, he shifted lightly under her weight and ran a hand through her hair to remind her that she needed to wake. He doubted Tyros cared much, but he supposed it might seem quite strange that they were spending so much time alone, especially considering Lenore's condition. She could always return to her room and resume her sleep, although that might not be the case, knowing her.

"I am sorry," he sighed as he tried to pull her away as gently as he could. "At least you got an hour of sleep," or maybe even more. He had been too busy brooding, not even feeling her against him during those moments. She had felt as light as Caireann and, without a context, he found himself missing her as well right then.

"You should get to your room before they start asking questions." He had not intended to wake her up, but it was better than abruptly pushing her away if someone came in without a warning.

 

[Lucyfer]

The sleep was almost immediately deep and dreamless, that it seemed only a minute had passed between waking and sleeping. Lenore did not wish to wake, but the movement and the words drew her back up to the waking world. Slow. Gentle. Until the panic stabbed at her as the word hour registered. She didn't quite jolt, but it woke her enough to silence the protesting of her body and move away from Jaime. Wipe at her face with her hand to try and remove tears she wasn't even sure still showed.

He was right to wake her, even if she wished to linger. Missed Lannisport and their 'cell', then. She seemed to only find decent sleep around others, whores, Silent Sisters, him.... "Thank you." She needed the rest. She may have needed the tears as well, she wasn't certain.

Her fingers trailed his chest in leaving him, as if she could bring its warmth on the tips of them. She rose, hesitated, and would bend and tilt his head up with those burning fingers to place a kiss on his lips. It would be too light, almost chaste if anything could be. The fingers carried a tremble still as they rested on his jaw. Yet if she was not allowed, she would step back, and would do so quickly after the touch as well, not wanting it deepened when she stayed too long as it was.

And with new thought to haunt her, but she thought that at least she might sleep. Interrupted and restless, but sleep. "Good night, Jaime." She would find composure in the morning.

She would leave him, going out the door to find Tyros startled, clearly thinking she had left earlier. He arched a brow but she gave no answer to the look, just hoped her eyes were not red. No tear streaks on her cheeks. She gave him only a nod of acknowledgment before she headed off to slip back to her room, noting the locations of voices and purposefully avoiding them in the halls. Just in case her eyes were still red, or there was evidence on her face of those tears.

She did make an attempt to remove such once in her own hall, wiping at her face with the back of her hand again.

 

[peritwinkle]

Not too long after his voice was heard, Lenore woke up, dazed and confused as though he had slept for days on end, not merely an hour. Jaime felt a pang of guilt after stirring her awake as she knew that she might not go back to sleep when she returned to her quarters, but that quickly faded as she broke from him, thanking him for the momentary peace.

He had done one good thing, at least. If he was not happy, then he had made someone else happy.

Right before she left, she placed a kiss to his lips, quick but passionate. Her fingers were trembling and burning against his chin, as though her body itself were begging for rest. Jaime allowed her to break away and wished her a quiet good night before she left, not wishing to linger in that kiss. Not while she was as exhausted, when her mind was not entirely awake.

Likely, she would come to forget she had even kissed him in a few moments. They would go back to seeing eachother every now and then, when something important had to be shared from the outside. Even with his freedom, he did not see her often in the least. He could swear that she avoided him on purpose, but he could no longer blame her for not wishing to cling onto a dark, uncertain future when she could barely bear the burdens of the painful present.

~***~

The basket was still warm in Caireann's hands, mostly due to the small pillow tucked right beneath it that maintained the heat. She gave the contents one more count, making sure that the biscuits were presentable, even if she had hurried up while trying to arrange them to fit around eachother without breaking. The air smelled like vanilla and lavender, even of the touch of cinnamon that she had added, although the latter was quite vague.

She heard hastened steps heading towards her from the stairs and she quickly straightened her back, prepared to greet Lenore if it was truly her. Many were returning to their rooms at that time, as she had left dinner early to make sure the gift was in order. Thankfully, it was whom she was expecting that turned around the corner, but when her eyes landed on Lenore, she immediately felt a shiver run down her spine.

The Ghost of Castamere was barely holding herself on her feet, with her eyes reddened, struggling to wipe away what must have been trails of dried tears. Caireann lowered her head, her hands trembling, and parted her lips to speak as if she had not noticed the woman's eyes. "Forgive me, Lady Reyne, I thought to come over for a moment... I could leave, if it is not the right moment."

She had waited outside her door for her to come, but now she was reconsidering her decision to come in the first place. The basket had been covered with a cloth so the surprise would not be ruined given she refused to see her then. If so, she would take her leave; the cookies were already cold, so she would have to try to make another batch for the following day.

 

[Lucyfer]

The woman was not alone in the hallway, and the sight of the young Caireann there nearly startled her as her hand finished its pass over her eyes. 'What is she...?' Lenore was not certain then if she had agreed to meet her or not, before Caireann spoke. Not a preordained meeting then, just a surprise. She had wanted to see her, and Lenore couldn't fathom why right then. She was holding something, as well. 'There is never a right moment.' But this one wasn't wrong.

She came a bit closer before speaking though her gait slowed. "There is no need to apologize...I simply was unaware I would have any guests tonight." By now many must have known. The morning would be awkward. She still did not know how to address the matter of Moryn. She hoped somehow Caireann was spared the news. "I do not mind, if you can forgive me for not being...quite myself."

There was no other way to put it. The Lenore that Caireann admired was stronger than this. She was damaging that image but perhaps the girl would forgive her for it, just this once. "I hope you were not waiting long." How would she even explain where she was if so? 'I fell asleep in your father's arms and didn't mean to.' Yeah, that wouldn't work. Not to mention that she didn't mean Tyrion.

She would open the door, offering her a softer smile, albeit fatigued and weak, it was sincere. She let Caireann step in first, before she would follow and start to light some of the candles. She hadn't lit any earlier. "Is everything all right?" In spite of her demeanor, her eyes did focus a bit after that first candle took light and she glanced from Caireann's face to her belly. She heard nothing of it, so she assumed all must be, but it was wise to ask while Caireann was there, just to make sure. She could always find ways to ignore her condition if Caireann needed her.

 

[peritwinkle]

Caireann was not denied entrance, but it was clear that Lenore was not entirely willing to receive a visit right then. Still, she did not linger too much outside before stepping into the room, clutcing the basket and the pillow to her chest. She tried not to make any hastened movements, lest she bothered the woman ever more.

Once inside, she let out a quiet sigh and drew closer to her as Lenore tried to scour her form for signs of ailment. "I have heard of what you did to Lord Moryn," she said without any introduction. Her words had not been meant to sound bitter, but she knew that her wound was still open. It was why she was there, why she had steeled herself to speak to her. She feared her, but they both needed to be strong right then.

"I do not know how killing feels, and I do not wish to know, but..." She moved towards the bed and placed the basked down on the edge, before cautiously taking a seat. "I hoped I could perhaps help you cope with the burden. I made cookies..." Slowly, she removed the cloth from over the basket. "They are a bit cold, though... But they're sweet. And they taste like cinnamon muffins! Well, they're made with cinnamon..."

Her voice was trembling and she was already beginning to fluster; avoiding her gaze, she scooped the pillow from beneath the basket and placed it in front of her. "I read that lavender helps with insomnia. I put some dried lavender leaves inbetween the feathers to help you rest." In no way did she mean it as an affront to her appearance, even if she did look fatigued.

Yet no less strong. Not to her.

"I am sorry that I bothered you with such a small thing, but I hoped that you would find one of these useful." She had not eaten, so the cookies might help with her hunger before she went to bed. Cold as they were, they still had a great taste, not too sweet so that she could not eat them, but just perfect, at least when it came to Caireann's own tastes.

 

[Lucyfer]

Lord Moryn was the first thing spoken of. Not her health, not the pregnancy, but Moryn. This would haunt her to the end, she suspected. If she could slap her past self, she would. Moryn was a strong message at least...among her followers. No doubt it would come to carry weight with those against her, as well. The Marbrands, especially, would find her actions to be atrocious. There would be no help for that, unfortunately. Yet, in spite of her act of cruelty the young girl had brought her cookies. She had also brought a lavender pillow to aid Lenore with sleep. Caireann consider these acts to be small.

How wrong she was.

Simply because the gifts and items themselves were small and nature, the thought was not. Paired with Jaime's earlier warmth it was almost enough to make Lenore tear up again. Why was it the Lannisters were kindest to her now?

The kindness was wholly unexpected from someone who knew the act she had committed. Lenore turned her attention from the candles to look upon the young woman. Her eyes scrutinized her trying to assess if there was any hidden motive behind the kindness. Her green eyes narrowed a bit upon the young woman but she could not discern any hidden agenda. Only affection. Only warmth. A chuckle parted her lips, followed by a shake of her head. She moved a finger under either eye, to make sure neither had watered.

Lenore stepped away from the lit candle. She approached the freckled girl. She slowly took a seat upon the bed besides her and looked down at the cookies and the pillow. A smile made its way upon her face. "Thank you," she said. She did not add that it wasn't the killing that bothered her, but the method. She had killed many before this Lord. "It seems in spite of all my knowledge of healing I have forgotten how to take care of myself. You are correct about lavender. I should have remembered...." a sigh parted her lips at her own forgetfulness.

The woman reached into the basket to take one of the cinnamon treats. "Please, have some yourself. I cannot eat all of them." She invited, motioning to the basket with her other hand. A thought occurred to her then, as she took the first bite of the cookie. Lavender was perhaps a commonly known medicine for insomnia yet it did remind her of one of Carriean's earlier requests. "Taking time and care to see someone who is...unwell is never small. Sick people, unwell people, are...difficult." Yet, there she was, unasked for, and present all the same. Dealing with someone quite unwell.

“Do you still have a desire to learn how to heal?” Perhaps…it would be better if she refreshed herself on it as well. With Caireann as an apprentice of sorts, she would have reason to reinvest herself in the art, rather than all the violence.

 

[peritwinkle]

There was no immediate response from the woman as she tried to perhaps make out the frank reason behind her oddly placed kindness. Her eyes narrowed, but when her composure came back to normal, she lifted hand to her eyes as if to wipe tears away which Caireann was unsure whether she had truly shed.

Trembling as she was, Caireann's lips curled into a content simper when Lenore expressed her gratitude. She had not expected her to eat the cookies and was glad when she did. At least one would be enough to give her some energy and kindle her appetite for more. She swelled with pride when the woman complimented her logic; it looked like she had not been wrong about lavender, and how could she? The book Robb had bought her stated it clearly, as one of the key benefits of the plant.

The offer of a biscuit was not refused, even if she had eaten two before placing them into the basket. She listened to her words attentively and in spite of that, she did not realise where she was heading with the subject, not initially. When the remembrance of it struck her, her eyes immediately lit up with glee.

"Would you teach me?" Caireann almost giggled the words out the moment she finished gulping the last bit of her cookie. "I have read so much about the art of healing, ah how I wish to learn more... I would be forever grateful!" It was an opportunity to fill both of their time, to make Lenore forget that which troubled her and to keep the other entertained while Robb was away.

She knew the reason the offer had not come sooner. Even then, not everyone trusted her; one could have thought she was slipping poison in their tea instead of sweetsleep. Now that she was their Queen, perhaps at least the North would come to understand that her intentions were pristine, and even the West, considering how much their lords and ladies endeared her. Lenore would talk to them and tell them that she meant no harm.

Frankly, it would take a long time until she learned everything needed to treat the most basic wounds effectively. She was thankful then that she had skimmed through the thick book of cures and treatments, as most were based on plants which she already knew quite a lot about. Of course, not like Lenore did - never like her. The woman was accustomed to poisons as she was to the types of jam that went into pancakes.

 

[Lucyfer]

Caireann lit up, her desire apparently not gone. Lenore was not sure how easy it would be, and she would have to think of where to begin, but she at least knew it was something that the young woman would appreciate now. The want to help was something hard to tear away. ‘Sewing. Stitching.’ Lenore discarded the thought as she gave Caireann a nod, “I know that you and Robb will not be here long, but I can show you some of the basics, and provide you with a few references before you leave for Lannisport once more.”

Poultice making, Milk of the Poppy, and other things she could show her how to make, teach her the balances of the ingredients, and let her get an idea of their measurement. She could provide samples of stitches for Caireann to practice, not on people – not yet – but one day it may come to that. She could write out some notes of details that proved useful.

Large tomes were always useful, but there were more common things necessary for a battlefield, and the wounds found there. Poisons more likely to be encountered, the best sorts of stitches, tips of cauterization and amputation. Perhaps Caireann would never have to do the latter, but the information would be there, if push came to shove, and it was the only way to save a life.

Information on making sure a wound didn’t grow necrotic, as well – the good, and the immediate. Lenore had found alcohol was often good when boiled, but it was not preferred if she had a full arsenal of supplies. However, it was often more common, and one had to work with what they had. “I was denied many times by Tybalt when I was younger,” she noted, “but…I never took no very well,” the smile was slightly sly then. “It has come in handy now. It may come in handy for you…and doing nothing in war is always frustrating.”

She had not enjoyed it when young, though her memories were faded. She had wanted to do more, though, that she remembered. Her brother had been a squire, and even her mother and aunt were able to try and draw in allies or gather supplies at a cheaper rate. Farman connections always helped with the gold price. “I have other trainings to see to tomorrow, but I will be sure to find time for this,” there were some she could likely drop in favor of anything else. “What times work best for you?”

She did not know what schedule the Queen herself kept, but it would be good to know. While she had been speaking, she had reached for another cookie, almost without thought. Apparently, she did have an appetite, and it was now remembered once she tasted food.

 

[peritwinkle]

Being a Queen, a leader in war, did no difference if those who fought were not given any aid. She was glad that Lenore understood her wishes and offered to provide for them, even if that meant giving her some of her own personal time. Even one medic made a difference on a battle field, given the right place and moment.

One day, she could be that medic and save a valuable life.

"I do not wish to spend my days praying for people's lives," Caireann murmured. "I want to be there, to help them, to save them with my own hands, under the watch of the Gods." Miracles did not happen often enough, so medics were always needed, no matter how vile or sickening the sight of pure massacre might be.

She would find a way to make Robb agree to it like Tybalt had, even if in the beginning, she was sure that he would deny her the right to help. Lenore was a woman as well, and she had managed to keep herself alive long enough to head her own army in war. To become a leader. Battles were dangerous and even far away from the eye of the storm, the lightning still struck. It was how life was, frankly: they were not immune, nor immortal. She was willing to give her life to save another, as long as it was for a good cause.

Time was not not an issue for her, but she knew that it might be for Lenore. "Whenever you are willing to teach me," she smiled brightly, her heart filling with emotion once again. "Robb leaves as soon as we wake up," he always waited to say good morning to her, though. "From morning until evening..."

Caireann shook her head and leaned in to pull the woman into a hearty embrace, gentle enough not to knock away her biscuit. "Thank you so much... Thank you..." It might not seem much to her, but to Caireann it meant the world. She could finally do something that mattered. She could make a difference. "Do not blame yourself for what you have done," she added then, nose buried in her shoulder. "I believe in you," and she believed that she had done the right thing.

Cruel, but perhaps right. The Marbrands would not threaten Fern Valley again.

 

[Lucyfer]

Praying did no good, but Lenore wouldn't say it. The girl held faith, and she wasn't there to crush it. Perhaps the Gods only disliked her; Caireann's fortunes had turned around for her. That, or perhaps the new gods were wrong. Lenore did not care much - none had been there. If she met any on her demise, she would make sure they knew she still did not believe in them, nor love them, no matter how the Sept seemed to comfort. It was humans who decided how the world turned. Humans who created miracles and monsters. She could teach Caireann the former and hope the monstrosities seen in wounds did not tire her.

"I will see my schedule tomorrow then. I believe late morning or early afternoon would work." She needed to see what drill were being run, what business of letters awaited her, and all else first, but it would wait until first light at least. She was caught then in an embrace. She wrapped her free arm around the girl, smiling slightly though it wouldn't be seen.

'What am I to do with you?' Ever the thought of those drawing too close. Ever the debate, to push them away or draw them closer.

"You're welcome," she said, hand lightly moving up to the back of Caireann's head, fingers finding spaces between locks of hair as she sighed. "But do not say that. I acted. No one made me. I am to blame for my good and bad." She was responsible. "You and Jaime seem to wish to say I am not to blame." A chuckle then, before she considered that she shouldn't have mentioned him. Yet, it was odd, all the same. The Lannisters provided her more comfort than the rest.

Yet, she needed to accept the act. Accept it as wrong, and try to get beyond it. Re-establish herself and grasp at sanity again. The difficulty was in finding a way to say it without being deemed mad. Caireann and Jaime may understand fits of madness, but she wasn't confident the rest would.

That or she lied, and kept the truth between them. "No matter," she drew away, fingers combing through Caireann's hair before they drew back to her. "I do appreciate all of this, Caireann. Perhaps I will sleep for once."

 

[peritwinkle]

Lenore received the embrace with a similar warmth and Caireann closed her eyes as she spoke. Her fingers mirrored her movement through her incarnadine hair, gentle yet demanding, as if she were refusing to let go. Exhausted as they both were, it was beyond calming to cradle someone that way, clinging to her as she hummed in her ear.

And even if her words were meant as casual, to Caireann they were like a lullaby. It was a rare sight to see Lenore as tranquil and gentle, as though she discovered another woman in her whenever they were alone. She had always turned cold at her cordiality but now, it was different. She understood and did not protest the warmth, the affection that was given so easily.

"You deserve far more," the girl said as a reply to her last words. "It is all that I could give to you. You have everything else, you are loved and surrounded by people who admire and respect you." Sadness was only an illusion of the mind, like a wave that disturbed the sand, but only to leave quickly after and leave behind seashells glittering in the sun. "At least I love you."

That, perhaps, was enough.

Caireann pressed her lips to her cheek before letting to of her. She stood up and, wrapping the thin cape around her shoulders, she started making her way towards the door before her actions could stir Lenore too much. "I will thank the Gods for bringing you home safely tonight," she promised, "and I will pray that you get some sleep."

There was much to thank them for, at least for hearing her if nothing else. She was certain they had. Then, she would return to her room and try to sleep as well; hopefully, Robb would already be there, waiting for her so they could fall asleep together as they always did. She could no longer conceive spending one night without him anymore and she believed he felt the same. Frankly, he had never complained about her vocal dreaming.

 

[Lucyfer]

Love, ah, love, that accursed word and that accursed feeling, but as it left Caireann’s lips with a kiss to her cheek, Lenore didn’t question it. It was spoken too casually to be questioned, the way she had said it the first time to Adryan. He had been startled by it and reacted so, and Lenore couldn’t take it back once said. That was how it seemed to be with her and love. She never quite knew when it happened. There was no moment she started to love Adryan, Tybalt, nor Sebaston – though Sebaston might be one of the few she could pinpoint. The moment he remembered her.

Lenore could not echo them back. It would be insincere, but she did not turn cold at them. She had no desire to turn her away right then. She might blame it on her exhaustion, or the gifts, but right then she let that care simply burn through her and smiled. She wouldn’t lie to her – not about love.

For anyone else, it would be easy to love her. “Thank you, Caireann,” she inclined her head slightly, “Good night…and may your prayers all be answered.”

And one day, she might, Lenore thought. Perhaps she should cancel the healing lessons. The more time spent with her would not allow her to grow cold. Seeing her care for others. Understanding her better. Letting her get closer as well…no, it would not foster the distance she’d always meant to keep, and failed to keep. Yet, she wouldn’t cancel. ‘You are turning yourself cold and refusing fire.’ The thought would follow Caireann’s departure, and another bite of cinnamon cookie.

She would never be warm, but those who were freezing ought to seek warmth. It would help to stave off the symptoms of being frozen solid. When someone was freezing, they always attempted to warm them. She was horrible at taking advice, but what she’d done to Moryn Marbrand caused her to see that she could not continue on the same path. She would need treatment. If she put in those terms, it was easier to work on. She was sick. She was freezing cold, and she was going to cross over into the point of no return…but she could try to fight for something.

She could try to pull herself together and fight to not be Tywin Lannister in the end, and find warmth in the world before she destroyed it around her. ‘So long as they can endure….’ And Caireann could.

She ate far too many of the cookies…all of the ones remaining, to be precise, before she grabbed the pillow and laid down, letting the scent of it fill her every breath, and letting the rain lull her to sleep.

 

[peritwinkle]

Caireann was still dripping as she reached her quarters; her hair had gotten wet through the hood and she had ended up taking off her boots, as they too were drenched in mud and rain. She had stopped praying when the storm erupted, but not before finishing her prayer of gratitude to the Gods for listening to her. She had not forgotten mentioning Lenore as well and she hoped that, by that time, she was sleeping soundly with a belly full of cinnamon cookies.

Thom gave her a bright smile as soon as he spotted her from around the corner, but it faltered when he realised how sodden she was. His eyes sought for signs of aliment, yet there weren't any. "My Queen..."

"Just water," she reassured him, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. It was likely the only part of her body that was warm, the rest were cold and dampened, almost numb from the sudden cold. However, she did not mind the change from the blazing heat to that, even if she feared storms. She still shuddered at the sound of thunders, even when she was around Robb. It was something she ought to work on in the future, she could not risk jolting when stitching a wound.

Queens ought to be brave, but she wished to be far more than that.

The door was opened without another remark, even if the guard was left rather dumbfounded, and Caireann found her way inside, trying to go around the fuzzy carpet. Her eyes landed on Robb, who seemed to be absorbing the light in the entire room; it was always the first thing that she saw and the only thing that she knew she would ever need to see.

"It is raining outside," stating the obvious, but a chuckle did leave her lips then. "And it is late... And everyone is inside." Her eyes lit up with a playful glint as her hands sought to wrap the drenched cloak around her shoulders more. "You would not want to leave me alone out there, would you, now?"

A long time before, he had promised he would help her overcome her fear of storms. Of course, there were other activities she could think of then, but she wanted to be there. She wanted to feel like living, even if that meant catching a cold or wetting the bed when they returned. Not like they had not done if before, either way.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb Stark had been graced with the unpleasant news of what befell Moryn Marbrand at dinner, when it seemed to be the topic of many. He had seen surprise line Adryan’s face when the news reached him, but Lenore had never shown up herself while he was there. Robb had not been certain what to make of it, how to take it. He knew anger and the pull of it. He had felt such wrath towards Lord Karstark, but he reigned it in. ‘Roose would likely approve.’ The only one, perhaps.

Well, that wasn’t true.

There were voices that had risen to her defense, and that troubled Robb, as well. More in the West than the North spoke of how this was the way it needed to be in war. ‘Tywin’s lessons….’ His brutality was what the West grew with, and what they knew. Even so…were they not fighting to be different?

The thought only bothered him as he knew Caireann had rushed off with a gift to her – he had inquired of where she was going so early, after they saw to the many at dinner. He could not sleep nor lay down until he saw her, and knew she returned unharmed. He perked up when he heard her soft feet outside the door, and was looking to the door even before it opened, to find her dripping from the storm.

A bemused expression crossed his face, and when she spoke, it became more confused, before he realized what she was asking of him. He laughed a bit, but from her appearance, it seemed nothing had gone wrong. She looked well, optimistic, even, and so he rose. “I did,” he remembered, “Let me put on my clothes,” he had settled down for the night, so he climbed off the bed and reached for his over-clothes. A tunic was thrown back on, slacks, and a lighter cloak not of fur was tossed over his shoulders.

He didn’t need to bring in damp fur.

He put his boots on, and then reached for her hand, “Let’s hurry, before it leaves,” he doubted the storm was going anywhere any time soon, in truth. Even if it did, another would be on its heels. They seemed unable to escape them of late. If she took it, he would hurry out - a more energetic pace, but not a run, to go out into the storm and take a look at how the lightning would lance across the sky, over the clouds that obscured the stars, and hopefully, she might see the beauty of it the, with him at her side. Learn to overcome that fear.

Or else they'd just have to do it again some day, and again, until it was easier to endure.

 

[peritwinkle]

It took him a while until he understood, but no sooner her did that he already started changing into an attire fit for the weather. His hands moved quickly with an enthusiasm that she mirrored as well, yet kept as silent as he could so that he did not disturb those already sleeping, nor rouse unwanted curiosity in the guards on duty that night.

Her feet were quickly when she took his arm and vanished through the door. She hopped quickly down the corridor, hand in hand with him, as the thunders were only growing louder and drawing closer. The storm was nowhere close to its end, or perhaps it would come as unexpectedly as it had arrived, but surely not before they got the chance to at least reach the gates.

It was the Stone Garden that Caireann lead him to, where she had prayed throughout the evening. Robb stopped, but she did not allow him to yet; with one hand she tugged at his coat, whilst with the other she struggled to slip her boots back on, even if they were completely sodden. It did not matter anymore, as there was no spot that was dry on her right then and soon, not on him, either.

"Rain!" she shouted softly to the sky, giggling, before a thunder boomed through her heart and she immediately jolted to his side. "I am a liar," she sighed then. "I am not afraid when I am with you." No, she had only wanted to get him wet and nothing more. He was wider than her, stronger than her; the storm would not even reach her through the shield that he offered. "A wolf is never afraid... Not when she is with her pack."

And he was her pack.

Her lips found his like magnets, demanding but submissive all the same as she pulled him beneath the weirwood tree. It was better there, but not entirely dry, as some rain still broke through the thick crimson leaves, enough to keep them drenched from head to toe without an issue. One hand reached to the back of his head, whilst the other to remove the cape that was only keeping her cold and wet, rubbing against her revealed shoulders.

"I lied to you... I fooled the King in the North," and it all was nothing but a child's play.

 

[Lucyfer]

They did not go out the front gate, but into the Stone Garden, where the weirwood was. Robb had not come to it as often as Caireann. He was devout, but perhaps never that devout. He was glad that the gods were here, though – the Old and the New – and seemed to be watching over them. He did pause once they stepped into the garden, but Caireann dragged him forward, heedless of the storm, and he started to wonder then if her fear really was still there.

She called out to the heavens, and the heavens answered with a boom, jolting her back to him. He wrapped an arm around her, and chuckled at her words. There was a slight scold even in the laugh, but it was playful. He was not truly upset with her, “You could have asked,” he said with mock exasperation. Of course she would not – she did enjoy these games, and he did not mind then.

He was drawn to her as she came forward, and he bent, to meet the press of her lips beneath the rain, beneath the weirwood and its red leaves, before the gods. His other arm wrapped around her then and pressed her to him, his lips curving a bit into a smile even in the kiss. He felt the cape as it was dislodged, and moved his hands so it could easily slip aside.

As the kiss broke for her to confess again, he jested, “I should leave you here to make you face your fear properly, without your pack,” though he did not imagine it would scare her so much now anyway. He lifted a hand up to run it through her wet hair, “You shouldn’t be allowed to get away with these horrible lies, Queen or not,” he continued the play a bit, eyes roaming over the way the fabric clung to her now, and knowing it was sticking to him. The pale tunic already felt soaked through; the leaves couldn’t protect him from the elements too well.

“I don’t think you should be able to speak anymore lies for a bit,” he said then, and with a step would press her to the tree, before his lips would steal hers again, and his weight would compress her a bit against the tree. Steal her breath, steal her words, the gods wouldn’t mind such a loving display, such innocence in the play of two adults in love and in the rain, and he could keep her warm this way, out of the elements, too, as all the rain fell around them and his form covered hers.

The Old Gods weren’t that prudish.

 

[peritwinkle]

Liar or not, there was one thing that Caireann knew: she did not wish to leave the Stone Garden, as wrathful as the skies might become. She knew that the Gods did not mind their presence. As they had given them love, they would endure seeing them consume it as it ought to be, as they likely had many times. The tree hid them well from the rest of the world and the suppressed the noise that they made by disturbing the silence of the night.

The wolf demanded that she remained quiet, so she was forced to comply. His lips sought hers thirstily, as they always did, as if it were the first time. Frankly, it was the first time in a while, since she had turned cold, but that was no longer the case. She felt happy with him there and was glad that she could enjoy such simple things, even if to her they meant the world.

Robb's clothing clung to him, completely soaked, and she could see his skin through the pale material. Likely, hers did the same, but she no longer cared. She wrapped a leg around his middle to pull him even closer if possible, chuckling against his lips as she did. "I love you," she murmured, "and that is not a lie."

No, it was the truth, and it would never be otherwise, not for her. He might one day tire of her, grow out of his childishness and regret he had married her, but she would not. She knew that she had loved him from the very beginning, from the moment he had wrapped his arm around her to lead her towards the capm, surrounded by fire and smoke.

Thunders never ceased to boom, and Caireann allowed him to have everything he pleased. Those moments would be rare - she knew - and soon, they would be forced to go into battle again. Another day without him, another week, another month... But while the war raged, her love for him would only grow stronger, more intense day by day. Just like it did now, as he fed it with his own passion and nurtured it carelessly, his mind too full with the pride of a new victory to care.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb was drawn tighter against her by her leg. He felt it as if it were skin on his own skin, in spite of the shirt. It was soaked to be almost useless, tight against him now, and hardly protecting him from the elements at all. He didn't mind the thought that they were skin to skin, though, as he took the extra wetness from her lips and devoured them whole, ravenous after her coldness to him. He missed her warmth and her humor, her play.

And found he still missed her warmth even as he let a truth part her lips. He caught the bottom one in a playful nip, before, "Hush," was whispered, a reminder. Even if he liked that truth, not now.

The wolf would continue his search for flesh when the honey of her lips had sated his craving for such sweetness. His lips took to her jaw, her neck, while his body kept her against the tree, upright. Yet, even as his body heated with his lusted, it shivered against the cold wind and rain, and did not desire the competition for warmth. Caireann was not maintaining her own warmth either, and Robb wanted more than just kissing. He had not made love to her since their wedding night, and it seemed far too long for a newlywed couple.

He righted himself and pressed a hand to her leg to lower it and unwrap her. The hand would follow along it, though, not quite letting the skirt fall nicely into place. "The Gods needn't see the rest of your punishment for lies, my Queen...even if I will be merciful for your truth." He would pull her from the tree then, and a bit more, pull her from her feet and into his arms, ignoring the cloak. It could be retrieved later. He thought to throw her over his shoulder but did not as he recalled the child - such a position didn't seem favorable.

He stepped back from the tree, fully intending to carry her back to their room where he could enjoy her in peace. His meal wasn't for others to even see.

 

[peritwinkle]

Caireann was trembling when she woke up in the morning. The window had been left cracked open throughout the night, turning the blanket and the sheets cold. Her only refuge had been Robb, who was always as warm as summer, and his tousled hair and beard fuzzy enough to pass as fur. He was not as fervent as Grey Wind, but almost enough to keep her protected from the brisk breeze.

When her eyes opened, he was the first thing that she saw. It was early by the looks of it; so much time had passed since she had woken up normally. During her time in the camp, she had woken up with the sun, even before Robb did. Now, she was the first to do so and feared disturbing his sleep, even if she longed to hear his voice.

Slowly, she slipped from his side to reach for a blazer that she quickly threw around her shoulders. Knitted as it was, she could still feel the cold, but knew that it would soon warm up against her skin. Then, she slid back into bed, careful not to disrupt his sleep with sudden movements, and resumed to watching him dream. Her hand held his, thumb caressing the back of it from time to time, whenever she felt him flinching. He was likely in Grey Wind's mind then, or perhaps he was truly dreaming.

Did wargs ever dream like others?

Eventually, the sun rose above the forest and Caireann knew that it was time for breakfast. She had not dressed herself up after their adventure the night before, but she was not one who took too long when it came to such matters, like Cersei or likely Margaery. Gently, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, luring him to reality with her touch and scent that he perhaps recognised even through sleep.

"Do you want to sleep more?" she murmured softly, only to have a kind of noise in the background for his ears to catch. "The Princes of Dorne will leave after breakfast..."

 

[Lucyfer]

The morning came, and Robb knew it as Grey Wind. He was taking his final stroll through the castle, muzzle peering into the Great Hall to see many of the West rising to leave. His mind was already leaving the wolf’s, clouded with thoughts of food and sleep as Grey Wind was, so Caireann drawing him up and out did reach him. Never the voice, his senses as a wolf were still too strong, but touch he recognized. Touch broke through. Perhaps it was an instinct to survive, to know when the body he belonged to was touched, in case it was a threat.

So the man was drawn back, and his other senses started to wake as his lips parted in a groan, and he stretched out.

Caireann lingered over him, already awake, and he smiled up at her, vision bleary, but it was still a pleasant sight to see as he came back into the waking world. The sun was shining, and he knew it wasn’t as late as other days, but he also knew he should be getting up. Breakfast awaited him, and there was business to tend to that day. Now that everything was back in order, he wanted to address the matter of the Freys with his own side, and he had to see the Dornish off, didn’t he?

“Good morning,” he greeted her, an arm lifting up to let his hand fall behind her head, so he could tilt her down a bit as he brought himself up, to place a quick peck not on her lips, but on the tip of her nose. He would start to sit up then, stretch out. His hair felt a mess on his head, more than usual, but he couldn’t quite see it. “Mm…we should probably get up…,” he pushed his fingers back through the hair, and felt them catch on knots. Frizz.

Last night’s activities in the rain had definitely made it a mess. No matter, he’d deal with it. “Are you feeling better now?” Not physically, of course, but emotionally. Mentally. Last night had been a pleasant surprise to him, and he hoped it was a sign that she was, indeed, doing much better now.

~***~

Adryan Casterly had gone to his duties of watching Jaime, but Tyros seemed uncomfortable when he arrived. Adryan was a bit uncomfortable himself, and a bit angry with Tyros as well, now that he knew of Moryn. Knew that Tyros and Gerald hadn’t done anything to stop it, in spite of being there, and knew Tyros was among those who seemed in support of it. He knew it was better to hold his tongue, though. Tyros suffered anger after the loss of his brother, and it blinded him.

Yet, the discomfort on Tyros’s face stilled Adryan enough to pause, and soften his expression. “What is it?”

A beat. Then, “Is there something…that is, Lenore and Jaime seem to be friends of a sort.”

“Yes….”

“Does she trust him?”

“Somewhat. He did save her life.” She also wanted his freedom. He was curious as to where this was going, “Spit it out, Tyros. What’s going on?”

Tyros sighed. He wasn’t good at this, and getting to the point…he wasn’t even sure how to put it, “She came around to see him last night – not unusual,” she tended to go see him on his shift often enough when she had been in Casterly before. He didn’t know the details of why, but this time didn’t surprise him. They had Tyrek here, after all. “But she seemed to stay a while. I didn’t hear anything,” not even the low murmur of conversation, “but…she came out and it looked like she had been crying.” Adryan’s expression turned to bewildered bafflement. “I know – I’m not kidding you, but she didn’t seem all that upset, either.” Not as if Jaime had abused her to the point of tears, but more like someone who had found relief in them.

Adryan took in the information, nodded, “Stay here a bit longer,” he said. He was more concerned with Lenore crying, then how long she stayed with Jaime. He was good company, but he didn’t think the two were close enough for Lenore to cry before him. He was still a Lannister. An enemy. And Lenore didn’t cry.

She made a point of not crying.

Tyros gave a nod, and let Adryan leave.

He didn’t quite get to Lenore himself, before he learned she was holding court for the West in Tywin’s office. He let out a sigh and trekked on that way, wondering what the hell it was going to be about so early in the morning. He hadn’t even had breakfast yet. ‘It’s too early for all of this.’

 

[peritwinkle]

Robb awakened eventually, even if he did not seem to have heard Caireann's words. She closed her eyes at the light peck to her nose before opening them again to meet his. They were no longer stormy, darkened by lust as they had been the night before, but of a bright blue that mirrored the cracks in the clouds that day.

"I would... I would like to have breakfast in bed this morning, actually," she decided as she let herself fall back, allowing him to sit up. "I am alright," not physically, but emotionally. She knew that there was something wrong in the way that her skin radiated heat and her eyes burnt with it. They were glassy and lacked focus. Each time they found him, they flickered and failed to fixate one precise point.

'A cold,' she deduced, although a pang of fear was slowly growing inside of her like a snowball. She only vaguely remembered the time she had spent almost inebriated at the Twins after the rain, but she did not wish to regret the night they had spent together. His kisses still burnt on her lips and the more she thought of them, the more she desired him again. Yet, at the same time, if he came too near he would see.

Pregnant. Ill. Cold. There were things that he should not see, even if he so desperately wished to bear her burdens.

Caireann wrapped the blazer tighter around her shoulders, squishing them together as she slid back beneath the blanket where he had slept. He had kept that place warm for her, like a nest, and even if he was no longer there she enjoyed the warmth, the scent and the illusion of safety that it offered. Even if it was nothing more than a covered nook.

"Lady Reyne will come to see me," she added then and would follow his movements if he chose to change. "She has offered teach me the art of healing." Perhaps she felt guilty for her own frigidity, not necessarily towards Caireann but towards herself as well. One ought to compensate for pain and suffering through an act of kindness. It was illusory, but as long as it did the job of fulfillment, then it was better than enduring in solitude.

Women were not made for enduring. She was not made for dying alone; they both ought to help themselves through helping others to find pristine happiness.

 

[Lucyfer]

Caireann claimed to be all right, but she seemed tired. More tired than just waking up could explain, and she spoke of wanting to have breakfast in bed. Robb bit the inside of his cheek. He hoped that she would not begin to withdraw again. He did not protest it, however, as she mentioned that Lady Reyne would be coming to see her. That sort of interaction may be good for her, and it was for a cause as well. ‘There’s no need….’ But he wouldn’t say that. Caireann was trying to fit in and help somewhere, if she learned to make a few balms and salves, that would not be bad.

It would actually be quite useful, she could aid the maesters with such tedious work. Even if she could not provide emergency care, she could make sure they were all prepared.

He did choose to dress, if only because he knew that he would have to leave her side after breakfast, and to get breakfast in the first place. He could not go out in nothing. “I hope that she is able to teach you much…sometimes it is hard for experts to teach,” he did not think only of her, but people like Adryan who no longer knew where to even begin with those who weren’t versed in the art already.

“I’ll get breakfast for us,” he said, “is there anything besides pancakes or muffins I should look for?” he asked in a teasing voice, and he would wait on her answer, before he would turn to exit the room and retrieve their morning meal for the day. Perhaps tomorrow she would be willing to go out and see others again.

He did not know what could have changed with her mood in just a night, and it did worry him.

~***~

Tywin’s office held the others when Adryan arrived. Sebaston, Ciaran, Gerald, Tybalt, and Lenore were all present, and Sebaston was the only one sitting. Adryan took in Lenore’s appearance once he arrived, inclining his head a bit to her once he shut the door. He assessed her in the moment of silent greetings, noting she did seem more rested. She looked better in general, her posture straighter, her eyes no longer with the panicked alertness they seemed to hold since she had entered Casterly.

There was a calm there.

“Sebaston has already briefed me on all that occurred here while I was away. I thank you all for handling the Algoods, and much else in my absence. I know you are all aware that the Fern Valley can be considered a victory, though we wait on word of Erwin’s health. I know you are also, all, aware of what happened with Lord Marbrand, and I wished to address that.”

Adryan cocked his head.

“It was a mistake. Gerald…I am sorry. I did not allow you room to even speak to me, and I knew even before doing it, it was wrong. It was why I did not tell you beforehand. I acted on thoughts of anger, and the hope that such a monstrous act would detour the Marbrands from harming the Fern Valley again. From the letter received this morning, and scout reports, that seems to be the case.”

Damon had written this time, not Blaise, and it was not only pointless threats now. “I am to one day rule the West, and that includes the Marbrands. I forgot this. I forgot much in the moment. It is not who I seek to be, nor how I seek to rule, even if these means led to the end I wanted.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and her gaze faltered, falling, with the sigh, “I cannot change what occurred. I wanted you all to know, however, that I acknowledged what I did. I acknowledge why I did it. I will strive not to behave this way again, and please…if I do, please separate me from the moment and talk sense into me.”

Sebaston smirked then as her gaze fell on him, “The way this one does, as he did for Caireann last night.”

“Always looking to help, my lady,” he said.

“I thought you didn’t want them to stay?”

“I don’t,” he said, shrugged, “I don’t enjoy breaking deals,” and they had all agreed to it, “but, it was necessary, and we all generally seemed to accept that we had entered into a bad deal. I am curious, though – is that whole name change and disinheriting rule going to extend to the other Lannisters, like Tyrion?”

‘Like Jaime.’ Adryan wanted to say, but held his tongue.

“The main purpose was just to erase the name…,” Tybalt remembered. “If the men wanted to stay and opted to change their names and disinherit what it brought them, it would keep them even from passing on that name in Essos or elsewhere.” Tywin’s legacy died, in a way.

“I’ll consider it,” Lenore said, “You’ve grown fond of Tyrion, haven’t you?”

Sebaston shrugged, but didn’t deny it. Perhaps he had. Perhaps he was only thinking of how things would be ‘fair’. There were some who would never agree to it. Cersei, most likely. Those who would remain poised as their enemies. Still, he could hear the arguments of some, of how they would do what Myrcella or Caireann did, in order to stay. “And our white lioness is fond of Jaime, I believe,” Sebaston said.

That got a snort of laughter from Gerald. “Well, I think it’s time I get back to my golden lion, too. Lenore,” Adryan spoke, “I’m sorry I was not there at the Fern Valley,” he imagined he would have stopped her. If Gerald wouldn’t, he wanted to believe he would have, “and I will speak for myself in saying I was…worried, and angry, over the Moryn incident.”

“I thought you were going to brush it off,” Sebaston chimed.

Lenore shook her head, “I…am glad that I cannot.” That she still had that much morality left to her.

 

[peritwinkle]

Robb offered to bring breakfast and Caireann's first thought was to tell him to enjoy it with the others. As selfish as it might have been, she did not, for right then she wanted him for herself. Lenore would come over eventually, but she was not feeling well enough to spend that waiting time alone. She wanted to be reassured by his presence, even if he did not know about her ailment.

"In fact," she said, "I would like some soup." There was always some left over from the previous night and she did not mind eating it cold. Sweets, as much as she would have otherwise enjoyed them, were not something that interested her right then.

She allowed him to leave, but the solitude did not last for too long. The door opened again, making Caireann wonder how Robb had returned so quickly, yet it was Mina that stepped inside then, holding a pile of folded clothes. She hurried over to the dresser, puffing and sighing, visibly exhausted or annoyed.

It did not take a genius to know it was Jyzenne.

"What happened?" the Queen asked, canting her head. She did not feel like listening to complaints right then, but Mina had always listened to hers.

"Jyzenne," the woman sighed and opened the dresser. There was not enough room inside, yet she managed to tuck everything in almost flawlessly. "It does not matter, my lady, I am used to her whims. She is just a young girl who swaggers with the thought that she is the Queen's handmaiden." Why would it matter? Others treated her the same... Well, apart from the younger servants who were just as gullible as her. "On another note, I saw you last night..."

Caireann could not see Mina's face, but she knew she was smirking. Her cheeks flushed even more, almost burning, and she quickly shook her head. "We only went out for a walk." 'Without much walking...' She had likely seen them when they had trotted through the hallways towards the Stone Garden.

"Mhm..."

There were many things that Mina knew, perhaps too many, yet she did not feel like explaining herself. All she desired was her soup and Robb to keep her warm, even if she was febrile. Lenore would have advised against it but Lenore was not there. She could enjoy that childishness for a while before she came to scold her.