Fangs and Claws [Closed]

[peritwinkle]

There was a certain softness to Jaime that Caireann had not truly seen before. When Lenore left her side, leaving the wet clothe behind, his eyes shifted to her, both intrigued and pitiful. It was as though it was not her who was sick then, but Lenore, and he was worried for what the woman might feel, instead of the other.

It was not something that bothered her, however. Caireann knew he had grown attached to those of the West. After all, he had shared a dance with her at their wedding. It did not stop it from being a strange sight, however, and for a brief moment, only a split second, she wondered if there was something else involved. People's minds were muddled in war. She had fallen in love with her captor as well, although that was another story.

She was as different compared to Jaime as water to earth.

"You look like you've finally slept," Jaime stated, as a compliment more than a remark, or at least that was what it had sounded like."It must have been a while." And indeed it had been. She refused to sleep in Casterly Rock, for it was the house of her enemy, but her ghosts were haunting her as well. It was difficult not to overthink in a place like that.

"I brought Lady Reyne lavender last night," Caireann smiled weakly from underneath the cold compress. "And cinnamon biscuits," said as though they had helped immensely. Well, she was proud of what she had done. Proud of her own bravery to make a move and try to brighten up Lenore's day with even such a small gesture. "I could make you some... When I have the time." They had been easy to make and she intended to bake more in the future.

"Not until you are well," he frowned and breathed out heavily. Then, she turned to Lenore, speaking softly. "Does Robb know? Tyrion?" He was worried. She sounded delusional and he did not know whether it was simply because she was happy, or because of the fever. His eyes shifted to the tea as it was just boiling and his frown deepened. "Is this as bad as..."

'The Twins.' Likely. Her eyes were glassy and fixated on them, which made him quite uncomfortable right then.

 

[Lucyfer]

Lenore felt the look even if she did not look over to Jaime. Pointedly refusing even if she wanted to look up at him. He wasn't subtle. So she had to be ice to make sure none ever considered much when they were in the public eye. Caireann wasn't private...and she shouldn't think of them as hypocrites either. This affair still had no future. No matter how she wanted to humor it. No matter what she'd shown.

And yet in spite of the ice she did smile a little at his compliment. "A bit. I missed sleep." Would likely miss it again soon enough. She was at war, not only in the field, but with those very ghosts that plagued her thoughts and the feeling that she did not belong here. That one didn't leave. No matter how familiar this place became, the presence of Tywin lingered, even if he was in King's Landing. To her, he may as well be as omniscient as Damian. Until he was dead, there would be no peace.

But, she would enjoy whatever peace she was given. Even this, and the edges of her expression softened at Caireann's boast.

"They did help." Not as much as Jaime, but gods forbid she say that as she steeped the tea. "And I know the pillow will continue to in the future." When she had gone and there were no more cinnamon biscuits. Just a pillow and a bracelet to stave off the ghosts. She did chuckle at Jaime's concern, wanting nothing before she was better.

Good idea, of course. She had to rest.

He spoke to her as she finally poured the hot brew into a cup. His trailing words followed her turn with the cup lifted, and she touched his arm, "She will be fine." She said it a bit more firmly, as if tone might cover the act, before she drew her hand back and walked to Caireann, offering her the mug. "Lord Stark knows. Tyrion, as well," He had been there to see the princes off, he must have heard. "Please drink," she said then to Caireann, before, "Yularen do you want a cup?"

"No," he blanched, keeping far from it, leaning along a wall. Even the smell reminded him of horrible sick days and medicine. "I'm good, thanks."

 

[peritwinkle]

Talking had made Caireann even more exhausted, in spite of her having spoken so quietly. She wanted to sleep, yet she knew that was not the place, nor the time. Not while Jaime could see her and fuss just like Robb often did over her. She needed to look strong, at least, if she did not come to feel that way. She had faith that the tea would come to help.

The touch to Jaime's arm had not gone unnoticed, even if Lenore had kept her tone steadfast and her expression unmoved. It was a gesture of affection, something that she did not often to with anyone, or at least not that she had seen before. Still, it was strange but at the same time, somehow, exciting. Perhaps she had not been wrong in believing something was there.

A mental note was made to ask one of them, likely Jaime, soon enough. That, if she did not forget.

There was not much that she remembered from her time at The Twins. Of course, naturally, her first kiss would never be forgotten, but the memory was faded, not nearly as vivid as any other. All that she knew was it had happened for sure, twice, although the latter she recalled with ease. She had been fully awake at the time, fully aware, and had gotten the chance to enjoy it to the fullest.

Jaded as she was, Caireann did not realise when Jaime took a seat on the bed next to her. His hand sought to touch hers, to help lift up the cup of tea to her lips. She gave him a weary smile before sipping, grimacing at the bitter taste. "It is not as bad..." she said, more to Yularen than the others. "It is..." She stopped for a moment, seeking the word, to which Jaime immediately jumped.

"Caireann? Are you-"

"Not the sweetest," she finished her sentence before taking another big gulp. The cup felt so light, but she did not know that it was Jaime's hand holding most of its weight. Regardless of the taste, she did not stop until she reached the bottom before placing the cup on the bedside in exchange for the damp clothe that was more tepid than cold.

Jaime's gaze moved to Lenore, worried, as he chewed down on his bottom lip. The touch still lingered on his mind and had Caireann's state not been so bad, perhaps he would have been smiling. Instead, his complexion was darkened by a deep frown. "Is there nothing else you could do?" he almost demanded as Caireann was starting to doze off. "What other teas do you have there?" Something that would numb the pain if she felt any and made her more energetic, enough to keep her awake. He did not even want to look at her in this state.

 

[Lucyfer]

Ah, a father's worry. Or an uncle. Lenore considered Tyrion her true father, if not by blood, by act, but Jaime's concern was still as present. He was at Caireann's side immediately, and helped her with the tea, stabilizing the cup, as Lenore tried to mask her pity with sympathy. Sympathy was more appropriate.

Yularen tried to keep some levity, even though Caireann seemed to be losing her battle with consciousness. Sleep was what she needed, so he couldn't be against it, but he felt bad for Jaime. He had come to see her, but her state was not a good one. "Says you. You didn't have to drink one of those every time you got sick." He was not a tea fan in general, either. "You know how to make tasty tea, Lenore...."

"For healthy people." She took the cup as it was finished, and glanced to Jaime as he tried to demand miracles. "I have ingredients for other ailments. This will lower her fever and lessen any pain." A headache could be brewing just beneath the heavy-headed feeling. "Rest and drinking water are best for her now." She went to set the cup aside before she returned and took the cloth, "I will bring it right back," she reassured, before returning to the basin and refreshing the cloth in it, letting it chill again, before she returned it to Caireann's forehead.

"If you get to feeling better while you are here, Caireann, we can try for lessons again, but don't push yourself now," if she remembered and wished it. Lenore would step away though. "I'll leave you two." Let them have some time, before Caireann would leave. There was nothing more to do, Jaime could easily try to keep her comfortable. Chill the towel more. Talk to her. Simple things. Caireann would be asleep soon anyway, she imagined. Jaime deserved time with her.

Lenore would turn to gather her supplies.

 

[peritwinkle]

Jaime could see Caireann's energy fade from her eyes second by second. The wet towel was replaced and Lenore drew near again, only to promise to give them time alone, which was more or less appreciated. He wanted to be with her then, knowing there would be so much time until they saw eachother again. Even if she fell asleep, he could at least watch her eyes move in her dreams, , her lips tense and her hands shift beneath the thin sheets.

She found her way out before Caireann dozed away. Jaime's eyes closed only for a moment, trying to take in the situation and understand it better. Had she even heard Lenore speak? She seemed weak, but he did not want to think less of her then, lest he make it worse by just inducing that insecurity.

He could see her trembling and, for a moment, he was tempted to cover her, but knew that would make the fever only grow in intensity. So, instead, he resumed to placing a hand on her chest, right under her neck, where her heart beat, as if to reassure her with the warmth of his own palm.

"One day you will have a daughter," he murmured to Yularen then, although almost too low for him to hear. "Maybe you will be luckier than I was. Than any of us were." Perhaps his would marry someone of his own choosing and learn to love him. She would be happy and healthy, surrounded by love, not hatred. She would live a better childhood, a better life. Not that Caireann was not happy - then, perhaps, she was. But before, she had not been, and that past weighed down ontop of her.

He would stay by her side for a while longer, until Mina returned. Until then, he was fully intending to watch over her, even if they would not get to talk much. She deserved to sleep and he was happy just by looking at her. It was one of the rare peaceful sights in war that he got to enjoy from time to time.

 

[Lucyfer]

The day slipped by, and Robb’s troops moved faster than even he expected them to. He wrote his letters and directed Walder to continue writing to him at Lannisport. He gave him the names, and sent the raven off, wondering how long the Lord of the Twins might take to respond. When Robb returned to his room, Caireann seemed still ill. If she had any lucid moments, he would take the time to fill her in on what had been decided about Frey. He didn’t sleep soundly, but woke through the night and checked on Caireann. In the morning, she hadn’t seemed to change much.

Yet, he was told they were all ready to leave.

He did not want to hold them up. He left her with breakfast, promising her he would see Lenore to make sure she could travel, and then left to find the woman.

She wasn’t in the Great Hall. He spoke with a few of the West and eventually found her out at the training grounds. He stayed back a moment, observing as she neatly dodged a cut from Sebaston. The Lord of the Fair Isles was not returning with them, he knew. He did not know if Tyrion had already informed Caireann or not, but hoped the imp would learn that they were leaving and go to see her beforehand.

It was clear to Robb she wasn’t skilled with the blade in her hand, but she was good on her feet, and he watched a moment as she seemed to focus on evading, with the occasional parry – but that was eventually where he got her. A parry, and he used the closeness to kick her leg out from under her, sending her sprawling. The blade was put at her neck. “You keep forgetting I have legs.”

“I keep forgetting you’re as bad as Adryan about fighting dirty.”

“Fight to win.” He removed his blade and helped her up then, pulling her back to her feet, “You’re improving,” he said. Before, she hadn’t been able to read the rhythm enough to even dodge so well.

Robb approached them then, breaking it up with his appearance, “Lady Reyne,” he addressed her, “My troops are leaving soon.” She gave a nod, acknowledging it, “Caireann is still ill….”

“She can travel, if she hasn’t changed for the worst. Just keep her to a litter or a cart house,” she was pretty sure the Tyrells had such a thing, at least for Olenna, if not also Margaery. “I assume you want me to check and make sure she hasn’t changed for the worse?”

“Please,” Robb sighed. He didn’t like asking the favor when she sounded so certain, but he did worry, and he was not used to handling the ill. His mother would, or Luwen, but he never tended to the sick himself. Lenore tossed Sebaston her sword, “I’ll be back.” Sebaston gave a nod, and simply turned on his heel to toss the blade at Ciaran, who fumbled with it, not expecting it, as Robb led Lenore back to the interior of Casterly Rock.

 

[peritwinkle]

The day passed quickly enough, but that was due to the deep sleep that Caireann had fallen into after the tea. She vaguely remembered Robb coming near her, talking to her in the evening and was still unsure if that had happened or if it had actually been a dream. In truth, everything felt like a dream. She had not eaten at all since that morning, but nor did she feel hungry in the least. It was only her thirst that kept her conscious every now and then, reminding her that she ought to move.

The fever must have gotten worse. Or, perhaps it had not changed one bit. Caireann could not tell whether it had taken a turn for the better or worse, yet judging by the tranquility that surrounded her, she was likely still alive and well enough not to concern anyone else with it. Lord Tyrion had come to see her, even, having brought Maege along, but she did not remember if that happened in the evening or the following morning.

Through the shut curtains, she could see light. Next to her bed, Robb had set a tray filled with food for breakfast, which she was intending to try to eat. If they were leaving for Lannisport that day, she needed to be strong enough to be able to ride. Honeysuckle was a gentle horse, fast yet humble. It was the saddle that worried her; unless she pressed her thighs firmly against it, there was almost no chance for her to be able to sit up throughout the path sprinkled with hills and slopes.

Slowly, she made her way up, sitting on the edge of the bed with the cold compress held against her head. Tyrion's eyes scoured the room as though he were searching for aid, nervously watching as Maege held the damn cloth up. He would have wanted to do it himself, but his hands were too short to reach. There were many things he blamed himself for right then, and that was one of them.

"I should have not allowed her to-"

"It was not your fault," Maege cut him again, as she did each time he tried to throw the blame on his own shoulders. "And neither was it Caireann's... Although you could have been more careful."

"I know..." the girl sighed, reaching for the plate with soft cheese and sliced sausage. She took a bite of each, then a sip from the leftover willow tea that Mina had left for her. It was tepid, but no longer tasted as bitter. Perhaps she had honeyed it, or maybe she had simply grown used to it. Knowing it was going to make her better, she clung to it as if it were a pancake.

Tyrion stood up on his feet and came closer to Caireann, placing his hands in her lap. "We will see eachother soon. Until then, you stay safe, understood? Listen to what Lady Reyne says, and Lady Mormont..."

"I am not returning to Lannisport," the woman sighed. "Neither is Lord Glover. The thickness of our forces is here. There is no need to leave, unless His Grace demands it." Was was fully intending to stay for as long as possible, to at least tempt to keep Lenore sane. She did not know how good a job the others were doing, but those from the West did not seem to have a dogmatic influence on her.

 

[Lucyfer]

Their steps took them to the room that Robb and Caireann shared, only after they paused at Lenore’s own room to again take up her supplies. She had made it easy for Mina to have access to the willow tea, which really should be all that was needed to deal with the fever. It didn’t cure it, but it did treat it. Robb did not knock, but opened the door to the scene of Maege Mormont and Tyrion fussing over Caireann as if she were dying, no longer letting Caireann hold the compress to her own head.

Lenore laughed. It was short, and quickly halted, but she couldn’t help it at the inanity of the scene before her. Yes, Caireann was sick, but she was hardly dying. Fortunately, she composed herself again quickly with a glare from Robb, and managed not to make any comment, just let out a deep sigh while a smile played at the curves of her lips. Slightly apologetic, but the apology never touched her eyes.

“Lady Mormont, Lord Tyrion,” Lenore addressed them briefly. She knew Tyrion must be upset with Sebaston, and perhaps, her by default, but she wouldn’t be correcting Sebaston or sending him off to Lannisport just then. “Lady Caireann – still feverish and with a heavy head?”

“Yes,” Robb was the one to answer. He knew that she was still feverish. Lenore didn’t go to check. With the cool towel upon her head, any check for a fever would not give an accurate result for a while.

Lenore nodded, “Mina has some of the teas already bagged to use and make, when there is downtime or rests on the way back,” as certainly there would be, “You shouldn’t travel this way, but since you insist on it,” and since Caireann would protest any delay, without question, “it’s as I said. Caireann, you will need to rest on the ride back. Use one of the house carts or litters,” Lenore advised. “Otherwise you will worsen your condition by exposing yourself to the elements and the strain of staying in a saddle. All right?”

If she disagreed, Lenore would just cause it to happen. No doubt she needed a new cup of tea. It would be easy to slip in a remedy to an argumentative nature.

 

[peritwinkle]

Soon enough, it was not only Maege and Tyrion to keep her company, but Lenore as well, followed closely by Robb. They came inside without a knock, although there was nothing that she would not have wanted them to see. In truth, she was happy she would get to talk to Lenore one last time before their departure to Lannisport. A long while would pass until they saw eachother again.

Caireann was unsure what exactly amused the woman, but nor did she care, as her attention was taken by Robb. Her eyes lit up, as weary as they seemed, and her pale lips quirked into a dulcet simper. Both of them were there to likely make sure that she was able to travel, so she could at least try to look the part, even if she was not wholly well.

The fever was still there, after all, as strong as before.

"I can ride," she offered with a small sigh. "I can stand up, too. I want to ride with Robb." If her father was not coming, then they could at least ride together, so she had someone to keep her company. Frankly, she did not wish to be parted from him for too long. A litter was boring and completely unbearable.

"You are weak," Maege offered and placed a hand on her shoulder. "The ride to Casterly is short. In two days' time you will be there for sure, but until then, you cannot endanger your condition even more."

"It's nothing," she slurred. "I am well, just a bit feverish... I want to ride. And I want to see Lord Tybalt and Ser Adryan before I leave. And uncle Jaime. I know I can." And she knew she sounded like a child, but right then she did not care. As long as they understood her, accepted it, then that was what mattered. They could not simply leave her alone in a litter as if she were dying.

Tyrion let out a sigh and gave Lenore a long look. None of them were absurd, as much as Caireann was stubborn. She wanted to prove herself strong merely because she was a Queen. To show her husband that she could carry her own burdens without his aid, yet in those situations, such choices could not be accepted. Not while it endangered her health, her life. He was sure that Robb did not agree to it either. Perhaps they would all end up carrying her by force, if the fever was not allowing her to think clearly.

 

[Lucyfer]

Caireann immediately protested what Lenore said about riding, and she tried to hold her expression as she did so. Were it Adryan, she would have cut down his protests with biting sarcasm until he agreed to go into the litter more from the pain of her words and implications than from whatever caused him to need a litter in the first place. Lenore did consider something so damaging as Maege called her weak, and the girl still refused to listen.

What parted her lips was likely worse, “If you don’t want the child, Caireann, you can just tell me and I’ll let you be rid of it in an easier fashion,” had her words about the child meant nothing to Caireann? Did she forget it so frequently? Or did she simply think that nothing she did was going to harm it? There was the alternative that she was trying to induce a miscarriage, something technically accidental.

Lenore knew that wasn’t the case, but she wanted the sharp words to remind the woman of her responsibility, not only to herself, to Robb, to the North, but to her child. Robb gave Lenore a harsh look for it, “Caireann would never—”

“She’s already proven that a lie, Lord Stark, save your breath,” Lenore cut him off as she moved to prepare a tea. Regardless, Caireann would need it for the trip, and so she went to heat the water. “This is not only about you, my lady. You were fragile before coming to us. Holding a child within you only makes you weaker.” She wouldn’t qualify that by saying it only made her weaker, physically. It made one weaker in many ways, and Caireann was not a strong girl. “If you insist on riding as you are, you will become worse.”

Robb moved over to Caireann’s side, and he took a seat at her side upon the bed, frowning at her stubbornness. “I know you want to look strong,” he told her. He did understand that, because she was always viewed as weak – even now. The problem was…right now, she was. “No one is going to fault you for riding in a litter or a house cart if you are sick, though. If I needed to, I would. Grey Wind can keep you company, and Mina. Sansa or Margaery may as well,” they preferred the house carts to the horses.

No one thought Margaery was weak for it. “It’s only a couple of days, and you rode on the way here. You have nothing to prove.”

 

[peritwinkle]

"Lenore!" Maege's reaction to the woman's words was immediate. She did not agree with such harsh statements, especially considering Caireann's current state of health. She did not need to speak like that, even if what she said was wholly true. Caireann was indeed with Robb's child and could easily suffer a miscarriage due to stress and effort.

Robb took a seat next to the girl and she immediately curled up in his arms, as though hiding away from reality. He might indeed travel in a litter if he were sick, but Lenore would not. It bothered her that the woman tried to convince others of things she would not do herself. "I do not want to lose the child," she said, frowning back at her. "Never say that again... Please."

She would never lie, not to Robb, not again. The child was theirs, she could not allow herself to harm it.

At least Grey Wind would be there to keep her company, Sansa and Margaery as well, if they had the time. She figured Mina would want to ride with the rest of her friends, but likely if Caireann was sick, she would prefer traveling by litter. It would not be as bad, would it? Solitude, silence and pillows. Lady Olenna had always traveled so, as well as her granddaughter.

She did not wish to let go of Robb right then, even if she knew they needed to move. "Will you ride near?" she asked as Lenore prepared the willow tea. Usually, litters were not in the front line, but he could try to step back so she could talk to him from time to time. Of course, slowly, she might come to fall asleep again, as she was quite fatigued right then, yet what mattered was the knowledge that he was there with her.

"I am sure that His Grace will," Maege smiled, giving a hidden glare to Robb. 'She will be sleeping, either way.' Without a doubt, Lenore was intending to put some sweetsleep in that tea. At least he could stay with her until she crashed, then see to his business. Children were children; even when older, they needed attention. She doubted Robb himself was too different from that.

 

[Lucyfer]

The outcry of horror and the way Caireann curled into Robb was enough. Lenore was pleased with the way the conversation turned, as Caireann didn't fight for the horse any longer. The verbal slap was sufficient. Bedside manner wasn't Lenore's forte, but her methods still worked. She said nothing to Caireann's comment, though. Only busied herself with tea as others tended to the girl's heart once more.

The King wrapped his arm around his Queen as she came to him. He wished he could shield her from reality, but he couldn't. Winter always came. So, too, did reality, and that meant harsh words and reminders. It may be spoken out of care, but it could have been said better than it was...even if it worked.

Robb knew not the reason for the glare Maege sent his way, but did not call her on it right then. "Yes, I will ride near," he reassured her. "You won't be alone." Just safe in the litter. Robb wouldn't go far, even if she slept.

Lenore drew nearer with the tea, but not near enough. Her words stung, she knew, and so she offered the cup to kinder hands, Tyrion, to present it to Caireann. It was not drugged; there was no need. The young girl did not remain defiant. She wasn't needing to be forced into a litter. "I have left a few more doses for you, Caireann. Please maintain treatment of this, and try to stay hydrated and rested. This will pass." She just had to treat it, to make sure it didn't worsen.

She would step back if Tyrion accepted to cup, and pack up her things once more, leaving out the extra doses for Mina to pack away when she came by to see Caireann out.

 

[peritwinkle]

The embrace was accepted with ease, although Robb's worries did not seem to diminish in the least. Caireann hoped that he still believed she would never want to put their child's life at risk in any way. It was painful to imagine they would even come to argue about such thing in the future, as they almost had then. Lenore had been more harsh that she should have been by bringing it up in the first place.

Soon enough, the tea was offered and easily sipped, Caireann no longer needing the help of her father to keep the cup up. She felt a bit more energetic and wanted to think that in the near future she would even be able to hold herself up as well, without any kind of support. Until then, she would rise along with them when need be, pressed tightly against Robb.

It did not take long for them to reach the entrance. A small crowd was waiting there, both of those who were preparing to leave and those who simply were seeing the others out. It was Willas that Caireann spotted first, then Loras, both as tall as two trees, then Jaime somewhere in a corner, his eyes scouring the hallway in search for her.

Tyrion was the first one to stride forward towards Jaime, but the man moved as soon as he saw them. With a blanket wrapped around herself and her face flushed by fever, she was likely not the best sight to see right then. Any father would worry over the health of their daughter, especially knowing how frail she was. Perhaps Caireann refused to admit it, out of the lion pride that she still had flowing through her veins.

The girl moved slowly, stuck to Robb as if she were a leech, dependent to his weight as if he were a pair of crutches. Her eyes met Jaime and, for a split second, she was tempted to follow Tyrion to his side, but thankfully the knight moved forward instead, shadowed by his guard. "So soon?" he murmured, to which she sighed.

"I will see you again soon," she promised. "There might be another wedding, after all. We will come back through Casterly." It was what she hoped for, any way. A simple reason to come visit him and she was sure that soon enough she would get better. It was only a matter of days. "You can always write to me."

"Write," Jaime nodded, flustering. Tyrion pursed his lips and urged them forward.

"We both will." He was not coming, since he was dependent on Sebaston. Whatever the man chose, he would ply to it, however until then letters would have to do. "Lannisport is not too far," but it could easily be, if Tywin made any moves in the West. So far, he had heard nothing, yet things could quickly change for the worse. None of them wanted their father to die, but he knew for sure that he was on Caireann's side now, no matter what.

 

[Lucyfer]

Many of the West had come to see Robb and the others off, Lenore included, even if she had seen them not that long ago in their chambers. She had returned to Ciaran and Sebaston after seeing to Caireann and her tea, and was once again soundly beaten in the duels with them, though at least Ciaran now took up the sword. He was gentler than Sebaston, and had the habit of humming a melody for her to follow, for her to learn the steps of a duel. That made it a bit easier, until he broke from the pattern he established.

Tricky bastard.

He was still humming a tune to himself as the party exited the castle, and there was a litter now near the doors, besides the one for Olenna. “Sebaston,” Lenore spoke to him as they watched from the edges, “You’ll be going soon to Lannisport, won’t you?”

“Mm, once I see things falling back in order here, I’ll need to return to see my ships,” noticed then that Damian was approaching Adryan, who hung back from Jaime. “Ah. Him.”

“Mm.” Lenore mimicked the agreeing sound. Him. He was leaving to see Roose, leaving her with only his brother.

“I’ll check in with Roose,” he promised. There remained suspicion about the man, and Sebaston still counted himself as a good reader of people. He had his suspicions about Damian, but they weren’t too bad. Seemed more that the man was doing his job of trying to be suspicious, just because he spied for Roose. He likely had secrets of course, and secrets he kept for Roose, but Sebaston did not consider the spy himself to be much. Just in a role that he enjoyed, perhaps too much.

Caireann clung to Robb, so Lenore did not approach them. When Robb glanced her way, she only lifted her hand in a salute of farewell to him. She would not draw close and upset Caireann again, though if Caireann looked her way, she would also offer that distant farewell. Her tongue had done enough for one day. It did it’s job, but too well.


And Damian did approach Adryan, as Jaime was distracted with Caireann. “My brother will fill in for me while I’m gone to Lannisport,” he told him, since he had guard duty after Yularen, usually. “I’ve told him it’s fairly easy,” usually had the evening to night shift, then Tyros took over for the night.

“I’m still surprised your brother is real…,” Adryan had been told, but he hadn’t actually seen the twin. “What’s his name again?”

“Demetri,” Damian answered. “Though he will answer to Damian, as well. I believe he has, many times,” Damian chuckled.

Adryan flushed a bit, embarrassed, wondering if he had made that mistake. He gave a nod, “Thank you for briefing him.”

“Of course. I should be back soon, I doubt my lord will want me for long.” He was going unannounced to see him, after all. To see if the Lord of the Dreadfort might listen to him, to steer away from this game with Tywin. Pretend it never happened with Kevan, and just win. They could plot usurping Robb Stark another day, they could plot so many things to give them advantages. Hells, Roose could marry the Reyne and be Lord of Castamere and the West in its entirety, a richer position than the Dreadfort, though he’d have that as well. Expand his interests. Though, he doubted the Reyne would be so inclined, no matter the power in both lands.

“Safe journey,” Adryan bid as the man stepped back and away, as Jaime was pulling away from his daughter.

 

[peritwinkle]

Caireann was in no way happy to know that her father would not be coming, but it was something that she should have expected from the start. Tyrion was not a prisoner, but he was not free either, especially considering he was still a Lannister by name, no matter what choices he might have taken to humour his daughter.

Still, the sweet simper did not leave her lips and she was looking forward to hearing from them as soon as possible. "We will have a short journey," she promised, clutching the blanket she was holding around her shoulders to her chest. "I will write to you as soon as I get home. It should not take too long to arrive."

Tyrion smiled back and nodded, almost pushing the girl back towards Robb. He would remain there, with Jaime, both of them sharing one last embrace with her before truly allowing her to leave. Right as she turned, though, she spotted Lenore, who waved her goodbye, and she returned the gesture with a short nod. She was not upset, but not entirely happy either. The woman had been too harsh and had spoken too quickly, before thinking.

It looked like a characteristic of any Reyne.

Caireann returned to Robb after the gesture, but Willas strode forward before her and bent slightly. "If I may, my Lady. I have heard you will be traveling with my sister. May I accompany you to the litter?" He imagined Robb would be riding either way, so he would not be in the same area as her, but he would not protest if refused.

The girl bit her lip and looked up at her King. She did want to come, if only to satisfy Willas's whim to escort her. He was right either way; if she was indeed to travel by Margaery's litter and not Lady Catelyn's, then by all means, she would go with him.

Not that she was at all irked by Sansa's presence. The girl was delightful, much like her brother and, likely, her other siblings. It was Lady Catelyn that Caireann did not enjoy as much, for the woman did not have her at heart. It was a difficult relationship that needed to rely on acceptance rather than genuine love. It would take a while, but she was positive that, in the end, it would happen. Just not right then. Not while she was sick and longed for either silence or dulcet words.

The Tyrells were talented in the art of chatter.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb arched an eyebrow. He had not heard that Caireann would be riding with Margaery – with anyone, for that matter. He was no longer so sure he would enjoy riding back with her, when it would put him so near to Margaery as well. He bit the inside of his cheek, but gave a nod. He had promised that much, hadn’t he? He would have to endure being near that torturous girl’s presence, to make sure that Caireann remained safe and that her health did not take a turn for the worse. “I need to get to my steed, you may go with him. I will join you soon,” he told Caireann, before he would leave her in the care of Willas.

Damian, he noticed, was joining them, and he arched an eyebrow as the man shifted up into a horse – a rather good horse. “Yours?” He had to ask.

Damian shook his head, “No, one of Lord Bolton’s – he lets us borrow them for their speed, when needed,” and certainly now was necessary. He had traveled to Kevan on foot before, and imagined he’d have to go to Tywin on foot if ever, but right then he got the nice horse, and he enjoyed it. He’d even taken a few of Lenore’s lessons, since he didn’t have a lengthy formal training.

Robb shifted up onto his steed, and noticed Sansa on her own white one now – apparently she wanted to give it a try. He smiled at the sight, feeling a brief pang that Caireann wouldn’t get to join Sansa atop her own white horse, but another time. She had to get better, he knew. She was ill, and as Lenore tactlessly put it, placing their child at risk if she thought to ride. “Have you been in correspondence with Lord Bolton while we have been here?”

“Yes,” Damian answered. “I had to inform him of the Fern Valley incident, and Lenore’s return, as well as the new prisoner Tyrek. Is he not coming with us?”

“No,” Robb heard a whisper that he would be going with Sebaston when the man thought to leave Casterly. Perhaps that was the reason for his delay. Robb hadn’t thought to ask. “Is all well in Lannisport?”

“You’d know if they weren’t, Your Grace. He would write to you himself, he would not go through me,” though Damian found it amusing that Robb apparently thought he might.

 

[peritwinkle]

It did not take a genius to be able to tell that Robb was not happy with the sudden decision, yet Willas's offer was not denied. Perhaps both of them understood it was for the better, even if it did not please each and every one of them. Caireann knew that Robb was able to make such compromises easily in order to make her happy, so she understood where his hesitation came from and how he managed overcome it so easily.

An arm was offered from the limping Lord and the Queen in the North took it, still holding the blanket tightly around. She knew she should not warmed her body more, but otherwise the shivers would have rendered her too weak to walk. She was still frail, as hard as it was for her to admit it, but it was better if she was a bit warmer instead of unable to function. She knew that, in spite of Robb's affection and care, it would not have looked good if he were carrying her around the court to the stables in his arms like a dying woman.

In the back, around where her uncle and father stood, she spotted Adryan and turned herself so that she could wave at him farewell. She would have hoped for Tybalt as well, or Lord Vikary, and if she did spot them she would do the same gesture. It was as much as she could do right then and more than enough for a small separation. Soon, they were going to see eachother again.

Sansa was already on her new white horse when they got to the stables and Caireann could not help but see the longing gaze that Willas gave her. "Have you talked much?" she asked quietly then, pressing herself against him so she could walk as straight as any other.

"A bit," Willas sighed and chuckled. "She has been disregarding me since the wedding. I cannot say much more."

"You should not give up," she sighed back. "I know that I have... That I should have been with you in the end. And I am sorry, I truly am... But what we want isn't always what we need." It was why she often refused gifts or did not ask for them: because she was happy with what she already had. Whims were not made to be fulfilled entirely, otherwise there would be no feeling of accomplishment.

She knew Willas had wanted her only for the future that had been promised to him. Someone who felt unloved could easily find solace in the arms of another of his kind. It was clear in his voice, in his eyes, and the fear was there, that he would never find someone whom he loved. Like she had been afraid of being married to someone unsightly or vile. One could be called pretentious or vain for such wishes, hypocritical even, but she was not that person and never would be.

The young man lead her to the litter, making sure that there was enough space for her to lie down if needed. There were two benches prepared and he supposed his gradmother would be sharing hers with Margaery. It would not be terrible, the road was rather short. Caireann would sleep on the way there and not bother them. She was already weakened in his arms, with the last bits of energy scouring the surroundings for her beloved wolf.

 

[Lucyfer]

The trip to Lannisport was not a long one, and yet it still required a break, and the evening, they began to make camp. Robb tried not to feel grief that Maege and Glover stayed back in Casterly, but he understood why. With the attack of the Marbrands on the Fern Valley, they were all more on edge about attack. Casterly was the obvious point to watch, and the West was not in this alone.

Leaders of the North now had to stay there to represent their position, as well.

Robb had kept his promise to stay near the litter, and it seemed Margaery had chosen mostly to stay with Olenna, though he was sure he had seen her once go to Caireann, the Tyrell’s energy boundless. She didn’t need a litter, obviously, but she seemed to prefer them all the same. Robb did have to move to the front in order to give the commands for them to come to a stop and rest, but once he had issued them, he made sure to return back towards the rear to find the litter where Caireann was.

He found her awake, but it looked as if she had not been that way for long, her hair a bit of a mess. His smile broadened into a slight chuckle, that he quieted as he came towards her and offered his arm to her, “Are you feeling better?” He couldn’t quite tell, considering her dishevelment from sleep, but he hoped that she was doing better. He knew she would have wanted to ride, but considering she was able to sleep even in the bumpy litter ride, he assumed she must have truly needed it.

The last thing they needed was her falling off of her horse again and startling everyone, or worse, hurting herself in the fall.

“We’re making camp now, and we’ll soon be eating,” he offered, so she knew what the plan was now as the sun was low on the horizon. They’d be in Lannisport soon, but not that night.

~***~

Back at Casterly Rock, Lenore and Aeron began the new drill for some of the soldiers, mostly the archers, of emergency field medic skills. There weren’t as many medics as they’d like, in spite of their numbers, and so they began to teach them things that could be useful in the heat of battle, or shortly afterwards. The first lesson was mostly bandaging procedures and tourniquets, and how to learn when they should, and should not, remove an arrow. Despite how many were archers, few of them considered the dangers of removing an arrow without proper, immediate help.

No lessons in poison. Lenore didn’t intend to teach such things to them, though a few had tried to ask and learn, they were denied.

Tyrek’s status was stabilized, now, and when Lenore led the maester back to his chambers, Adryan was waiting outside. “Did you see him?” Lenore couldn’t help but ask. So far as she knew, Adryan and Tyrek still hadn’t spoken.

“No,” he shook his head, “He wasn’t awake.”

“So you tried?” Not really a question, as the answer was obvious. Adryan didn’t answer, just pushed away from the door, relieved of his duties, to go to dinner with Lenore now that the maester was back. It wasn’t until they were away that he spoke.

“He looks more like Tygett….” Or at least, what he’d been told of Tygett. Curly hair. A build that promised to become even broader than Adryan’s.

“Tygett was descended from a Marbrand…and he married a Marbrand. I suppose that would make the child of such more like him.” Lenore noted, “Does it matter?”

“No,” it didn’t. It was just something noticed, something that quietly bothered him, as he wondered if his mother had lied or told the truth. It was something he’d spoken to Ciaran of, since he also couldn’t truly verify his parentage. “It’s just…if I’m not…my mother was a whore….”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lenore said, “If you aren’t…you wouldn’t be the first, nor the last man without noble blood to rise up and claim a place. You would have earned it then. That’s far more than most ever do with their titles.”

He gave a slight smile, but said nothing more as they came into the Great Hall to eat. It was a much smaller group now, quieter.

 

[peritwinkle]

Caireann could not recall much from the road itself, but she knew that Margaery had come once or twice to see her. Likely, the young woman had been worrying that she would pass to the Gods if she were not taken care of on the road. People in the Reach were bright and happy, but there had always been a certain concern in the Tyrells' eyes, every moment that had required special attention. From heart to mind, they were as sensible as one could be, however not in the least sensitive.

Seashells were brittle and frail, compared to plants.

The blanket Caireann had kept wrapped around herself now served as both a mattress and a pillow where it was bunched up, right beneath her head. The bumpy ride had felt like a cradle, but the abrupt stop had awakened her. Soon enough, even before she got the chance to sit up and brush her hair with her hands, Robb appeared at the door to help her out.

"I am alright," she murmured to him, synchronized to his question. She chuckled and shook her head, taking the hand offered. "Am I still warm?" She felt as though her forehead was radiating heat, but the tips of her fingers were cold. She wanted to sit by the fire and eat something filling to give her energy. Sleeping was not in the least satisfying for her.

Groups and groups were forming around the tents that were being installed. One would be for her and she wondered briefly if she would get to share it with her King. "I want to see Sansa's horse," she found herself saying as she paced around them, blanket around her shoulders. "Is she... Has she come with us?"

It was one thing to be dazed, another to be ignorant to one's surroundings, but Caireann did long for company and she wanted Sansa's sweetness to make up for the bitterness of her ailment. Perhaps Robb could sacrifice his night to stay with them, even if he might have otherwise spent it with his men. It was the feeling of guilt that would keep him by her side, if anything.

~***~

Only half a day had passed since Caireann's leave and Tyrion was already uneasy. He had seen her off alright... Well, at least in some ways. In others, she was still sick. Anything could happen, but she had faith that the medics or possible maesters in her escort were skilled enough to keep the illness at bay, at least the fever if they were unable to heal her entirely.

That disturbance carried on to dinner when he barely realised that he was not alone. There was something in the air that told him he ought to be more aware of his surroundings, but Maege Mormont's tranquility was somehow soothing. If someone like her, as hard as stone and with a heart ready for battle, was calm, then perhaps he should try to do so as well. Step by step.

It only took one or two goblets of wine.

He found her nearing the Western table as he joined, a weary smile stretching his lips. "May I?" A seat was not too much to ask for. His eyes moved to Lenore, analysing her for an answer, and he would sit down if it was needed. "I am not surprised my brother is not joining tonight, he must have been quite... shaken." Not a word that would describe him, but he would have been even more disturbed, had he heard Lenore's threats towards Caireann.

~***~

"Nothing? You think I am doing NOTHING?!"

Tywin's voice boomed in the dark hall, barely lit by a few candles. His forehead glistened with sweat, visibly uneasy and full of the wrath that had accumulated over time. No, he might not have been able to bring his sons back, but he also knew that he could have done much more than he already was. All Cersei could do was cry and brag, two activities that he had gotten used to as a part of her late demeanor.

"My brother, your son, Tyrion has-"

"Betrayed us. Oh, I know," he nodded and propped his hands against the table. "But they have him. And they have Jaime and my granddaughter, who has... married the heir of Winterfell, for whatever reason that is." Robb Stark was an idiot for that, but the Gods were not forgiving. The marriage could only be broken through one's death.

Cersei bit her lower lip, but she did not talk. She was waiting, calculating, hesitating. Everything had been hastened and now, as they were planning Tommen's crowning ceremony, she felt more disturbed day by day. The fear that he would come to die the same way Joff had nibbled at her heart. She feared for Myrcella as well, what the girl would be enduring there, amongst the enemy that Dorne had come to be.

A sigh left Tywin's lips as he turned towards her, then his eyes flicked to the man who was sitting to her right. "We need to act and bring this idiocy to an end. Spread them out and weaken them." They could not bear them all in their full glory, not even with their finest warriors. "We are all in grief with the loss of Lord Moryn at Fern Valley but we cannot back down now. We have to send skirmishes in the West, the Reach, anywhere within our range."

With a bit of luck, the Dornish Princes would get caught in the net, putting an end to their union with the Alliance. At least momentarily.

They needed all the time they could get.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb started to shake his head as he felt Caireann’s head, but paused as she came alongside him. “A bit,” just her fingers seemed cold, but once she was at his side, she seemed warmer. He closed his fingers over hers, and would walk alongside her towards one of the fires. He had intended to bring her among his family for dinner, where Sansa would be, and likely Catelyn as well.

He found it odd she wished to see Sansa’s horse, but he gave her a nod, “Of course Sansa is with us,” why would he leave her at Casterly Rock? It was far too dangerous for her there, Lannisport was much safer than Casterly Rock.

He didn’t ask her why she thought that. He assumed it was the illness, and it worried him more. He wasn’t sure how safe a fire would be for her. He may have to set the log a bit back from the fire when they came to sit.

He took her to the area where his family tents and their close guards were setting up, and saw Sansa there, removing the tack of her horse so it would be comfortable. “Sansa,” he called to her, disrupting the process. The blue-eyed girl looked over towards them and smiled. The other white horse was alongside its brother, its tack already removed by the guard who had ridden it alongside Lady Stark.

“How did the horse mind?” He didn’t know yet what she had named it.

A smile came easily to her lips, “Very well,” she answered, “he’s not as gentle as my palfrey, but he still managed.” She looked to Caireann, her lips pursing as the girl seemed so frail beneath her blanket. How had she ever survived this long? ‘How will she survive childbirth?’ Sansa shook that thought off and said instead, “Your tent should be up soon.”

~***~

Lenore and Adryan had taken seats together, surprised not to see Sebaston or even Gerald. ‘Maybe they’re still out doing drills.’ They could go on long. The two had expected to simply eat together, but it seemed Tyrion wished to join them. He wasn’t denied, Lenore giving him a nod of acceptance, as she brought a bite of ham to her lips.

It seemed he was only joining them because Jaime wasn’t there. “Shaken?” Adryan was the one to ask, canting his head. He had guarded Jaime during the day, of course, didn’t see anything that would shake him. “Did Yularen do something?”

Only after it parted his lips, did Adryan realize what a stupid question it was. “Yes, I’m sure Yularen did something,” Lenore answered sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “He may just be upset with the state of Caireann when she left.” She bit back on a comment on how they were both rather emotionally fragile, only Jaime burst into angry shouts, and Caireann burst into tears.

“Ah…,” Adryan supposed that could be it, but Tyrion could clarify.

~***~

‘Almost nothing.’ Though the copper-haired man did not speak these thoughts, they were in his own eyes. The loss of Moryn had struck him. He was a fool, but he was family, and he knew it was Tywin’s silence that caused some of the rash actions. They were losing the West. The strategy of silence was not paying off. And now that all knew they could marry Lannister women without approval, Dorne would no longer be kept in line.

Addam met Tywin’s look when the man turned his attention to him, speaking of skirmishes. “Then the first should go back to the Fern Valley and finish that.” They knew for sure that would draw Lenore out. “Perhaps send the Mountain, but what we need is to strike the Fair Isles.” And they had no fleet, not any longer. What was in King’s Landing was trashed, and what was in Lannisport, as well, “Lord Farman is behind much more than this Lady Reyne.” Alliances. They’d been too lenient with that family.

More like red-haired bitch, treasonous whore, Red Ghost, the focus of all his current hatred after what he heard had been done to Moryn from Damon. “We can’t reach the North,” the riverlands would stop them. Frey. “But we can reach the Reach. We should send terms to House Florent,” rivals to the Tyrells. “And we need to bring our own houses to heel again,” too many were jumping ship.

Ashemark was surrounded.

“Perhaps even send terms to Lord Stark,” and before Tywin could speak, he added, “His issue was only with Joffrey. If nothing else, the suspicion will work to break them internally, since we can’t get anyone near Casterly.” He had written to Damon and tried. Apparently her terms for alliances weren’t pulling anyone to her. They couldn’t sneak loyalists into Casterly with those tactics.

They could still try to mess with them. Mind games. “Things are rumored to be shaky enough with the North and West as it is.”

 

[peritwinkle]

With every step that she made, Caireann felt better. It was perhaps the bracing wind that blew against her skin, bringing the scent of sea water from afar. One of those days, she wanted to play in the water, even if she did not stray too far from the shore. Only the toes, or the ankles... The water was cold in autumn, as winter was closer and closer, but she found herself longing for that cold against her warmer skin.

Robb did not lead her towards the fire, but where Sansa was with her horse and its brother. Caireann smiled to all of them and reached to pet their nuzzles. "This one is mine," she sighed. "And I think I will name him Whirlwind. He will like Honeysuckle very much." Sansa had not given hers a name yet, but she suspected that it was something about Winter, as well.

A pair of voices behind reminded her that Mina and Thom had come along with her to Lannisport. She only turned her head briefly to see the guard shadowing her and the handmaiden fussing about, searching for the place where the cooks would be tending to dinner. Thom's eyes combed her out from head to toe, as if he were expecting her to shatter every minute, but she understood his fear entirely. It was the same as Sansa's, as Robb's. Likely, she looked more like a ghost right then than Lenore Reyne herself.

Lady Catelyn Stark was just dismounting her dark steed then, and she came towards them with a warm smile on her lips. "I have heard that we are close," she reassured her children. "We should be at Lannisport tomorrow evening at most." The road was not long for a small group. They traveled fast and most of them were riding atop their own horses either way. It was only the litters that were rather slow, but they kept up.

"Perhaps I can ride too, tomorrow," Caireann said, full of hope. "I am feeling better... If the fever goes away entirely..." That, and she did not want to look so fragile in front of Catelyn. A Queen ought to be strong and even if she was just a child, she was sickly and vulnerable. That was one of the many reasons the woman did not find her fit for her son, the King in the North.

~***~

Ser Casterly had not been there to witness the small conflict in the morning over Caireann's health, nor had he come to see her when the fever had put her to sleep. Tyrion did not blame him for his ignorance, although he would have thought the man cared enough to at least come and visit.

Regardless, he did not find himself in the mood for sparking a discussion. Not about her anymore. He needed to think clearly.

The door to the Great Hall was open when Jaime came inside, followed closely by Damian. Or was it Damian? No, his twin brother, for the other had left to Lannisport, or perhaps he was being just as ignorant as Adryan in his mediocrity. His eyes were tired and bloodshot and it took him a while to spot his brother. He did not see Lenore immediately, nor others, but him.

"We-"

"Is there any ale here?" Jaime squeezed himself by his side and let out a sigh. He was tired and wanted to sleep, but at the same time, he felt the need to stay awake until he received word from Caireann. 'What if she is already dead? How long does it take for a raven to reach Casterly Rock?' The roads of Westeros were often unforgiving.

Tyrion passed him the sweetened ale.

~***~

Not a long time in the past, they had attacked Fern Valley and it had all resulted in a massacre of their own people. Tywin was surprised that Marbrand would even suggest it, but full of respect all the same. Not many were easily able to get over fresh wounds like that one. Kevan had been silent after his boys' deaths. People coped differently, in ways others could not understand.

His eyes scrutinized the room as though he would be able to find a solution in the books and scraps scattered over the desks and tables. "We will not benefit from attacking Fern Valley now," he concluded. "Your men will get slaughtered again, and the Ghost will only return back to her nest. We do not have the time to reach the West and host an attack." It was better if they kept the sensitive spot that Fern Valley was for when they were looking for a diversion.

"We need new allies." Most of them were already considering leaving in favour of the Alliance, while the others were surrounded by fangs and claws. Ashemark. "Robb Stark will never agree to bend the knee in front of Tommen and nor will his followers. I am not lowering myself to beg for his blind loyalty."

There was already a pressure in his tone that held Cersei down. The woman remained silent as her father paced around the room, his eyes like melted gold in the light of the candles. It was almost amusing how a child could twist him like that, take everything he had and humiliate him. How a ghost could so easily haunt him, as if she were behind him at all times.

How so many years of glory were so quick to come to an end.

"The North has men, we have men," he almost murmured, turning towards the table. "The West has land, and we have land. Farman has ships." They needed a fleet if they hoped to flank them. They all expected them to come from the land, not the sea. "I will send Gregor Clegane to rummage the West and take the Princes of Dorne out of the game... But until then, we need ships. We need the force of the Iron Islands, and while Lord Greyjoy will not come to our aid, we can call for the help of someone younger than him. Stronger. Exiled."

His brother.

 

[Lucyfer]

Sansa smiled as Caireann moved to her horse, “I know,” Robb had told her. The two would have matching horses, sisters. Arya would just need one, one day. Of course, she might deny it out of spite or some other pettiness – that seemed her way. She wouldn’t want to blend in with them. Whirlwind as the name, however, she didn’t know. “I hope it’s just as fast,” that seemed to pair nicely with Grey Wind. Sansa no longer thought the name she’d chosen matched as well, though to her it related to the North. “I named him Seer.” Almost Whiteseer but it didn’t seem to work.

“What is a seer?” Robb asked in a teasing tone.

Sansa was quick enough with an answer, “An animal that can see through the weirwoods and commune with humans. Like the greenseers, but an animal.” She defended. Of course she had just thought that the horse seemed fairly intelligent, and it was white, so….

Robb chuckled at the defensive tone. “So only we need the modifier of ‘green’?”

He wouldn’t get his answer as Mina and Thom drew closer, and then his mother. He did greet Catelyn with a smile, as did Sansa, and she gave them the news he already knew. It was likely more for Sansa, she was unused to this trip. When Caireann spoke of riding tomorrow, he let out a sigh. He really didn’t think that would be a good idea, but he only said, “We’ll see how you are tomorrow,” though he’d be happier if she rested. Getting right back into the saddle after enduring such an illness couldn’t be advisable, even if she was better. She shouldn’t immediately strain her body again with such exertion.

“We should get some food,” Robb shifted the subject, “It was still a long day’s ride.” And he was hungry. Eating on the road always left him starved for dinner.

~***~

Jaime came for dinner, in spite of Tyrion’s words, and Adryan smirked as he approached their table and set down at it, “We’re going to run out of liquor with you two and Gerald around,” he chuckled. Gerald drank a lot even when they weren’t in war time, but at this rate, they were going to be exhausted before the war was ever won.

“It’d probably do all of them good,” Lenore answered, not at all bothered with the thought. It was a waste of good gold to her, but it was a necessary evil. It became as necessary as food in war time. Men wanted to drink away the pain and the horrors. Even leaders such as Gerald, or those supposedly untouched by such things, like Jaime. They all sought reprieve in liquor.

Shaken, Tyrion had said, and over Caireann. Adryan hadn’t seen her, but he shot Lenore a look for the comment, both harsh and encouraging. ‘Tell him she’ll be all right.’

Lenore lifted the tea to her lips, but then spoke, “Caireann is going to be fine, Jaime. She went with a litter, she has enough willow tea to treat the fever for a couple of weeks,” far more than she needed, really. “So long as no one lets her up on a horse, she’ll make it to Lannisport and recover just fine. I am sure you will hear from her in a couple more days,” once she got to Lannisport, she would be able to write and tell him.

Assuming, of course, that she did. Lenore did not recall letters leaving for Jaime before, but they might this time, as the wait to see each other would be much longer. “And if not, Tyrion will write you once he returns to Lannisport to tell you of her.”

“When is Sebaston leaving?” Adryan had to ask.

“Not long,” Cybelle was gone now. It was only a matter of seeing the drills in place and working out some of the concerns of finances before approaching Braavos with any offers. Sebaston was thinking of going to tend to it himself, but Tyrion was a hindrance to that thought. Trusting Meir with it was not something he was opposed to, but he worried the Iron Bank might not look as favorably upon it, no matter how much gold he sent across the Narrow Sea. Lenore didn’t elaborate on that, however. There was no need for the Lannisters to hear talk of finances and how they were going to send off precious and gilded things to the Iron Bank to settle the debt of the West and hire them to obtain the rest that Tywin owed.

~***~

Tywin’s pride could serve him well, but it could also blind him. Apparently, he refused to try a stratagem to create chaos in the ranks, or to attack the Fern Valley, and Addam glowered at being denied.

No attack on the Fern Valley. Tywin wanted skirmishes, yet denied the one that would provide the most opportunity. ‘Don’t you realize she may ignore all others?’ That may send a message about their ability to protect the West, but it also sent a message about those who still served Tywin. “The only other allies in the West we are positive of are the Vikary’s and the Farman’s,” obviously there were others, “The Algoods and the Westerlings are rumored,” other houses, they knew naught of, he was sure there were still forces of allied houses in their own army.

He tried to think of those who’s numbers seemed less. Kayce came to mind, as well. “We cannot get near the Vikary lands without endangering our army even more than the Fern Valley, nor can we get near Farman without ships. Do you intend to attack blind?” If nothing else, Addam wanted to know where they were going to strike. Perhaps Tywin knew better about their enemies were. “Or only go after the Dornish Princes?” That, he felt, wouldn’t take Dorne out of the game at all. There might be momentary chaos, but Trystane would rise up to lead, and certainly he would want to continue the alliance.

They would risk damaging their allies, or make the decisions to turn more easily. He spoke of the princes, and Addam could agree with that, giving a simple nod, but he didn’t understand where they were going to attack in the West. It was still their home, still.

The matter of Robb he would let drop, if Tywin didn’t wish to cause chaos in the ranks with those sorts of games, so be it. He was certain Robb would never join, but he’d heard of the tensions between the Lord Stark and Lady Reyne. It seemed sensitive enough to strike, but it may also only serve to turn Tywin into a laughing stock, begging for mercy.

At the suggestion of the Iron Isles, though, Addam narrowed his eyes, “That snake?” He supposed they couldn’t be picky with their allies, “Do you even know how to reach Euron Greyjoy?” He knew which brother he meant. Certainly not Victarion, nor Aeron. Euron, however…Euron was well known, and not for any good reasons.

 

[peritwinkle]

Caireann smiled upon hearing the name that Sansa had assigned to her new horse. It was good to see that she was not the only one to endear legends and myths of the North. More or less, she would have wanted to name her own inspired by books, but nothing fitting had truly come to her mind. Sansa had made sure to take one of the best.

She could tell that Robb was hungry only by looking at him, so she did not oppose leaving the two beautiful creatures in favour of something to eat. Frankly, she was starving, herself, yet there was something in her throat that kept her from eating right then. It would be difficult to do so, but she would force herself to, if only to see Robb less worried about her health.

Cat followed them closely like a shadow and lead them towards a log farther away from the fire. It was already warm that evening, after so much rain, and the ground was radiating a pleasant heat. Soon enough, bowls and plates were brought out, first for the highborn who were traveling along, then for the guards and staff. It was Mina who brought it for them, spiced steak and sweet potatoes, and Caireann received a big bowl of soup.

"It was not needed," she sighed, but dug into it anyway. She saw the handmaiden reunite with Thom and some others before she turned to Robb herself. "Can we share?" He was famished and she could not eat it on her own. Catelyn gave her a bitter look, but she did not comment on her sudden offer.

Perhaps in the North, sharing food with a Lannister was a crime.

~***~

'Fine.'

Lenore's words were not soothing, but at the same time Jaime forced himself to believe them. "She could walk when she left," Tyrion reminded him, with helped a bit more while irking him at the same time. It was not enough that she could walk. He would have wanted to see her healthy and strong. Riding. A litter was not safe enough, although maybe better than a horse right then.

"It seems to me that were are not planning to make any moves," Maege frowned to Lenore's answer. "Are we waiting for the enemy to invite us for a dance?" Even if Dorne was not there, they could not wait a thousand years between attacks. They had to weaken the enemy's forces, otherwise Tywin would come to weaken theirs.

"If you ask him nicely, he might," Jaime frowned.

"We are asking. Silently." She was not pleased and Galbart did not agree to that tranquility either. "We should host skirmishes around. See what we can get out of the way before we attack King's Landing." Were they attacking King's Landing anyway? It seemed to her that they were waiting for Tywin to come and take them out first.

~***~

Pacing again around the room, Tywin struggled to think. His mind was muddled with thoughts and worries, but he could not allow that to cloud his rationality. No, they could not attack blindly. The West had been taken away from them, but not entirely. If they planned to regain it, and eventually did, he did not wish to rule over ashes. Other maneuvers had to be made to slip it from the enemy's claws, yet anything implied destruction and collateral loss.

"The Princes of Dorne will pass through the Reach," Cersei murmured.

Tywin shook his head. "I do not know if they have consolidated the Reach after the attack on Fern Valley." It was not a risk he was willing to take. "But we can attack the far North of it. Where it meets the West." It was there that they could catch the Princes. They would fall, Dorne would rise again, but that would take long enough to give them time. Trystane was young and could easily be bribed with the life of his precious kin.

On the matter of Euron Greyjoy, there was much to validate and amplify. He was sure that the man was already plotting to assassinate his brother and take the throne, if the rumours of his twisted mind were true. He could only hope that the promise of gold and presumably a hand in marriage could make him join their side against the Alliance, providing them with a potent fleet.

"I will find a way," he concluded. It would take time to make sure that whatever he did, was not discovered by the enemy that now surrounded them from every side. He could not allow him to fall into the pit of despair, but he had to move quickly as well. Chances were that Euron was more than one sea away.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb took his seat upon a log with the others, Sansa and his mother, Caireann as well. He felt a pang, missing Bran and Rickon then. Ned. Arya. Even Jon. ‘Though Jon is probably doing things like this.’ He would be a Ranger, like Benjen. He would get to camp by fireside often, though hopefully he’d enjoy it more than Robb was. Hopefully, he had made good friends there.

Food was brought to them, which Robb still found curious. He was used to the longer camping, when they all fetched their own, but considering all needed to eat at the same time now, it made sense. He thanked Mina for the food and started to cut into his steak, when Caireann spoke of sharing. He caught the look that Catelyn sent her, and furrowed his own brows.

She’d said the soup wasn’t necessary…she must still be quite sick, and she was still being stubborn about it, as well. Tried to refuse the litter. Now, not wanting to eat, even though she likely hadn’t through the trip, since she slept so much. She must have missed lunch.

“Caireann….”

Rather than try to share her soup, as she seemed to imply, he instead impaled a potato and offered it to her, “Of course,” if they were to share, that meant she was to eat of his own food, too. She wouldn’t eat any less – she would eat more, if anything. “Here, try the potatoes,” he offered. Perhaps she’d be annoyed with him for not seeming to get the point, but he’d rather that, than have to lecture her on how she needed to eat.

~***~

Lenore looked coolly up at Maege when she joined, “Should Tywin wish a dance, I would not refuse him,” the words were icy, though, “So long as it isn’t the Rains, of course,” but to her question, she answered, “We are going to fortify here. I will not waste soldiers in skirmishes, nor will I senselessly attack my people, unless they try to attack first. Lest you forget, Lady Mormont, I am rule these lands.”

That meant, she did not want to cause any more bad blood than necessary. The Marbrand act was an atrocity and she would have to live with it, and make her amends, somehow, to that family. She was not committing genocide, nor removing them, as she was removing the Lannisters.

Adryan also seemed a touch annoyed by Lady Mormont’s questions. “We are waiting for the Dornish to return with their armies, regardless. Once they return, we can consider marching on King’s Landing, but before then just seems stupid.” He said it bluntly. “Once they are here, we will be able to move some by sea, and some by land, to surround and take King’s Landing.”

“And Lord Farman already knows the sea routes well. Gerald, Adryan, and myself know the land – we were a part of Lord Tywin’s forces when he took King’s Landing from the Mad King.” They knew the path along the Gold Road, and even knew some of the entrances – or Gerald did. Always the Vikary’s, they had been a part of the strategic discussions, always known as good knights. If Aerys wouldn’t have let them in, Tywin had other plans.

“I don’t enjoy waiting any more than you, Lady Mormont,” Lenore said, and meant, “Besides – are we not waiting for your daughters, as well? Would you prefer they get caught in an ill-timed and ill-located skirmish?”

It was, perhaps, one of the few good things of being in the West. Tywin did not have as many targets, nor did she. Both Tywin and Lenore had to consider the people they intended to rule over. If they were senselessly harmed, then their positions would weaken as a leader.

~***~

Addam gave a careful nod, “The Dornish did not travel heavily,” or he was sure they would have known of it much sooner. “Is the Mountain even close enough to catch them?” They were known to travel with fast horses. A litter for Doran may slow them, but he wasn’t sure how far the Mountain was. He wasn’t active in the West, so how could he manage it? “Do we not have allies nearer to their path that could catch them?”

Certainly Tywin still knew of some houses that had pledged steadfast loyalty, beyond his own and the Baneforts. A rave would move faster, and the princes could be stopped North, and held there as well, behind fortifications, or carted back to them.

Euron, it seemed, had not yet been contacted. It was a passing thought in Tywin’s head, and that did worry Lord Marbrand. He only gave a nod, though. He would…deal with Euron if it was necessary, but he did not like the idea. “Very well.” He thought to ask of the Vale and Lysa, but had a feeling he’d hear if they had their backing.

The Vale couldn’t provide them ships, anyway. Their concerns were ships, and intelligence on the Alliance, and they were lacking in both.

 

[peritwinkle]

It was not new for Robb to twist her words so that he got what he really wanted, but right then, Caireann did not mind it. She was famished, even if her fever was keeping her hunger from burning through her. She had indeed not eaten lunch, thinking she would get to enjoy dinner that night, moreso that she would have spent the whole day without having tasted almost anything.

So, she leaned in to press a kiss on his cheek before moving to take the piece offered. She munched on it slowly, as it was still hot, and brought the bowl of soup to her lips to take a sip. If seeing her eat made him happy, if seeing her overcome her illness did anything to cheer him up, then she would eat a mountain, even if she might not be able to finish the soup on her own.

Then, she lifted the bowl of soup and offered it to him. If she feasted on the sweet potatoes, then he could at least take a few sips from her own meal. Strangely enough, she felt fiercely protective of him right then. She wanted to see him eat as well, just as he did, so he could bear her burdens through the night without worries. If they did sleep together, she knew him well enough to anticipate him staying awake to watch over her.

"You should eat your own food, Lady Caireann," Catelyn said, her eyes locked on the young girl. "You will only worsen your situation this way."

"What is his, is mine as well," she answered firmly, drawing closer to him. Her hazel eyes were darkened in the shadow of her frowning brows. "If I am bothering him he can tell me himself," and she knew she was not. They had not been spending much time together lately and she missed him. There was something in his eyes that told her he missed her as well, more or less. Pressure only brought them closer together instead of dividing them, as it often did with others.

~***~

Maege quieted down, but she was not happy. She did not feel well in that place. Casterly Rock had not been made to host Northerners and she certainly was not benefitting from the atmosphere it gave away. Other times, she would have not brought such issue into discussion, but right then she felt pressured and surrounded.

Jaime was almost sleeping in his chair, brooding over his niece. Tyrion reached over the table to fill his goblet of ale up again, to the rim, and he quickly sipped from it down to the middle. "It looks like the feast spirit did not last for too long," the small lion observed. "This is almost as bad as dinners could go back home."

Everyone was silent and deepened in their own line of thought, with the exception of Cersei bringing up Tommen or Joffrey's victories in their spars and aim training. Nothing entertaining, nothing of importance and lots of sour looks thrown from one end of the table to the other.

In that case, it was Jaime who was eyeing Lenore.

"Are you afraid of him?" the man found himself asking, his eyes not leaving her. The question was not meant as a threat; rather, he seemed curious to know. The Ghost of Castamere was said to have a heart so cold, that she did not feel pain, happiness nor fear. Of course, that was a lie. Everyone was afraid of something, as he was of death.

~***~

"Clegane is the closest I have," Tywin muttered, hovering over his seat. He wanted to rest, but he was uneasy. Sitting would do nothing but irk him more. "He will do what I ask of him without question. Once we have the Princes, we can momentarily eliminate Dorne from the ecuation." Nothing more, nothing less. They might continue to fight, fear would not stop them, but that would take time and hesitation. It was something all of them could use to their personal advantage.

Cersei's eyes followed him, worried. She silently agreed with Addam, that Euron Greyjoy, or any Greyjoy for that matter, was not to be trusted. Yet what could they do, other than accept any help given? They were not in the position to negotiate too much, not if they wanted to bring that war to an favourable end.

"I will send skirmish troops in the early morning and find a way to contact Euron Greyjoy," Tywin concluded and he looked over to Cersei. "Sacrifices will have to be made," he added then, and saw the colour leaving her cheeks for a moment, before she quickly regained her composure of steel.

"Anything needed to bring my brother Jaime home. And justice to my traitor brother and his whore of a daught-"

"She is a child," Tywin hissed. He knew Caireann had found a better place in her mind. Perhaps anything was better than home. He knew that if the Westerlings had indeed joined them, it was given the poor girl's confessions. Many situations could have been avoided, had Cersei kept her mouth shut. And yet, she never did.