Fangs and Claws [Closed]

[peritwinkle]

Robb had duties to fulfill, and Caireann was not there to stop him. Still, she would have wanted him to stay with her for the rest of the day. Merely a few hours in the evening and less in the morning were not nearly enough for a newly married couple. She often lay awake only to watch him, lest she fell asleep and woke up too late, when he was already gone.

The kiss to her forehead was a pleasant surprise. Caireann melted into it and closed her eyes at the sensation of his fingers in her hair. "Come back soon..." Sooner than the evening. He could rush everything and return earlier to stay with her, if only for a few minutes more. They had not enjoyed dinner together in so long, ever since her illness had stricken her.

Right before she let him part, her own fingers tugged at his coat, holding him there for another moment before allowing him to disappear. There was a long time ahead of her, but at least she had Mina to talk to, if Thom did not wake up earlier that day. She would sing that song until she remembered it entirely, so she could hum it to Robb when he returned.

They both had a thing for music, it seemed.

~***~

"Two thousand," Willas frowned, and the commander nodded quickly.

"No less than two thousand, my Lord. I have counted them myself. These are my best men, I can assure you." Well, frankly, all golden roses were skilled in the art of swordfighting, but those were better than most. They were younger and smarter. Stronger. Age was not always a denotation of strength, nor wits.

Loras pursed his lips into a smirk. "Tywin does not stand a chance. Not even the Mountain can defeat two thousand skilled fighters," and he would not bother sending more skirmishes in the Reach only to decrease the numbers of his own army. He was running short on allies anyway. With the Algoods having joined for the sake of Ciaran, and the Westerling for Caireann's, it was sure that their loyalty now lay elsewhere than the Lannisters. A loyalty not based on fear, but love.

It was a sunny day outside, but Robb Stark's figure seemed to darken it with its presence. Every time he stepped into a room, it was as though he were bringing the North with him. Willas's head turned to look at him and he had a feeling he knew what the man was there for. Still, he remained silent and only inclined his head, hoping that he would get to the subject at once.

The commander and Loras turned as well, standing straight and proud, as if Robb were there to honour them. At last, the younger knight was doing something on his own. There had been no way for his brother to convince him otherwise, not when the Reach was being threatened. It was not Highgarden, but it was their home nonetheless.

A perfect explanation as to why Willas was weakening Robb's defenses by two thousand men.

 

[Lucyfer]

‘You could come, Caireann.’ Robb thought as he walked. His eyes had lingered on her fingers disapprovingly, he recalled, and he sighed to himself. Did Caireann not know that? He had presumed she did. It seemed so natural for his mother, Catelyn, to move about with his father, and to add her insight to situations. She did not command – not truly, until his father was dead. Yet, she was ever at his side, and supporting him. Caireann instead waited through the day in her room.

He had not heard of any trips to Lannisport, though he knew Sansa and Margaery went out. Perhaps it was still her health that kept her within, and Robb shouldn’t think much of it. She was recovering. When she was better, perhaps she would go out and enjoy more, alongside Sansa or the others. Perhaps she would join him to oversee what duties were required of the leaders of the North, of the King, and so, the Queen, in his absence.

One day he would need to show her, if only because she may have to lead if he died. ‘Though Catelyn may do better.’ Or Roose, though none would accept Roose.

Soon enough, his thoughts were taken from worries of the future and Caireann’s health and happiness, by Willas and Loras. Robb took in the situation of the mobilizing men. “I take it, Lady Olenna has already shared the news with you,” he acknowledged the forces mobilizing in front of him, “How many? I suspect Lady Reyne is going to want to press the offensive when she returns,” which meant they would need to consider how much they could send to support pressing out into the West.

Robb wasn’t denying the mobilization in the least. He would want to do the same, but he was too far from the North to do so. These troops could easily follow the roads to get to the Reach and protect it.

~***~

The sky was changing above Ciaran as he rode, his horse exhausted, but he needed it to keep going. ‘Just a bit more. Just a bit more.’ Branches broke, but soon he saw the white tree with a face, and he stopped, dismounted, and listened. If his talent for music had helped him in anyway with fighting, it was in his attention to sound. He waited, listening, until he at last heard other branches breaking, and heavy footfall. Heavy breathing.

He moved, taking out one of the few knives that remained to him, and soon caught sight of the blond man as he fell against a tree, bolts, not arrows, in his chest – stuck there by the armor they embedded themselves in, more than the flesh. Perhaps the tips had cut into him, but they didn’t look to be that deep through his armor.

There was a pursuer. Ciaran heard their steps as well, and he knelt behind a tree, and watched as the one with the crossbow came forward. “Tywin will pay me well for your head, bastard.” The soldier said, leveling the crossbow at Adryan’s uncovered head. The White Lion gripped his sword and tried to straighten up, but he was exhausted from running, and the pain in his chest was still present.

He didn’t need to do anything, though.

Ciaran threw the blade with accuracy even Lenore would be jealous off, and the blade stuck in his neck. The crossbow dropped, and the figure clawed at his neck as he stumbled back, stupidly pulling the dagger out and letting the blood gush out. “Buh…?” He tried to turn and see who, and saw Ciaran as he stood up, before he faltered and fell, twitching.

Adryan looked surprised. “Ciaran….”

“Sh.” He took the dagger from the ground and wiped the blood off on the soldier’s pants, before he offered his arm to Adryan. The blond all but fell into his grip, and Ciaran led him back to the horse, breaking the shafts of the bolts but not daring to remove them…just in case.

 

[peritwinkle]

Willas was not particularly enthusiastic about sending good men away, but it was for a good cause. He was happy that Robb's initial reaction was not to accuse him, but to indirectly support his decision. They were an alliance, after all, and whether they liked it or not, they had to defend eachother, protect eachother when they did not fight together. The King in the North was not in the position to help him, but he could endorse him all the same.

"Two thousand," the commander declared proudly and Willas agreed with a nod. "They are prepared to leave now, and Ser Loras..."

"I will be leading them alongside Ser Ashford," he added. "News travel fast, but we need to move even faster." They could not hope to win the war if they stood around, doing nothing at all and only waiting for Tywin to strike with his best. "I assume that as soon as Lady Reyne returns we will decide upon attacking the West as well." Their enemies.

Willas frowned slightly, but nodded in agreement. He was sure that the woman would return. If she was reckless enough to throw herself in the lion's cage, then at least her allies would protect her with their lives. She was more than a leader - she was a symbol, and when a symbol fell, those that remained were only pawns fueled by the ghost of a hope. It was why he had gone himself into battle and not stayed at home to protect Highgarden.

He was as much a symbol to the roses as Lenore was to the West.

"I am sorry for the disadvantage that this brings you, Your Grace," Willas sighed, "but you would have done the same for your home. It is my duty not only to protect my home, but my lands as well," for he was the Lord of Highgarden, protector of the Reach. If he could not hold his own grounds, then he had no right to pursue others.

 

[Lucyfer]

Two thousand. Robb took in the number with a nod, passing no judgment on it, even if he thought it was extreme. He didn’t know how many were actually left in the Reach. They may need these kinds of numbers if they had brought almost all of their forces here. Still, it was a significant blow to their ability to launch offensive attacks, or even defend against Tywin if he did move.

“Not the West,” Robb corrected Loras. “Many are our allies, and many others are only afraid of Tywin. We are not going to ravage the lands that Lady Reyne intends to rule,” Robb noted, “We’ll heed her when it comes to targets. She’s been trying to gain allies in the West, she knows who has been silent and who has become an outright enemy to us.”

Obviously, the Marbrands, but Robb recalled the Baneforts as named, too. They may wish to head a bit North and claim those lands, as well as spreading out east towards King’s Landing – but he would allow Lenore to make that call. “Lady Reyne will likely still seek to work with your commander Redwyne when she returns to Casterly Rock. I’m sending Lord Bolton with many of the Dreadfort forces to meet her there.”

Information Willas might need, in case he wanted to send word on to Redwyne about what to be prepared to offer in that situation. Perhaps nothing would be asked; the Tyrell forces at Casterly weren’t as numerous as those here in Lannisport. They may be left to simply protect the castle.

“I do understand, Lord Tyrell, there is no need to apologize. You must protect your home. We can only hope a press forward will finally bring Lord Tywin out.” Cersei didn’t intimidate him, nor did her forces, but Tywin did, and he didn’t want to fight Tywin in King’s Landing if it could be avoided. “I need to go see to Lord Bolton’s preparations. I wish you and your men haste, Ser Loras,” and with that, he would leave them.

They were aware, and preparing appropriately for the matter at hands. The Southern border should be protected, and he would make sure that Lord Bolton had all he would need.

Soon enough, the evening would arrive, and Lord Bolton’s troops would be prepared to leave in the morning. Robb had spent the day overseeing it all, and he made his way back to Caireann’s room, likely not as quickly as she would have wanted. He already ate dinner with many of his men and enjoyed their talk of the future, even if their talk was the near future and victories. He looked forward to them.

He still looked forward to this ending. ‘Hopefully, Lord Frey won’t make it difficult.’ It would be a few more days before he could expect to hear from him.

He returned to his shared room, and he did knock on the door before entering, uncertain if he would find Caireann awake or asleep at this hour, or if Mina would be there or not. He would enter after the knocks, though.

 

[peritwinkle]

Willas did not understand why Robb was not going in person to discuss matters of war with his allies at Casterly Rock, but he did not question the man's judgement. He likely feared leaving Caireann alone, his family, Casterly. He trusted Roose Bolton enough to know that he would be able to express his views and opinions as well as the King in the North would have done himself.

Lord Redwyne had a strong enough fleet to aid them if needed. When they were all grouped up again, if ever in the same formation, they would have to begin preparing their attacks. Not on the West in its entirety, it seemed, but merely against the Houses that were against their rebellion and still supported Tywin Lannister.

Loras nodded in appreciation at his last words and allowed him to leave. He was also looking forward to their departure. Perhaps two thousand men were too much, but he would rather overestimate Tywin's power than be surprised. They both had a feeling that Lenore would not manage to take down the Mountain's party on her own.

~***~

After a proper rest, Thom was on guard that evening, and Caireann was more than pleased to see he had returned. She had promised she would he reading to him, but she found herself longing for a moment of peace and silence before she went to sleep. There was enough time for her in the morning to do so, or any other day, truly. Since she was not allowed to meddle with Robb's duties, all that she could do was wait.

The door was opened before her with a respectful nod and Caireann stepped inside rather quickly. When it closed back before her, she slipped from the tight dress she had been wearing through the day and went to search for a clean night gown to wear that evening. She was too tired to have a bath, yet one was soon to be prepared for her, when Mina finished helping around the castle.

She slid the robe on right as a knock disturbed the silence of her room. The pattern was easily recognised, even if Robb might not have meant to create one. He had a way of always knocking as if he were in a hurry, then entering without an invitation. "Long day?" she asked, pulling the dress over her form. With only a glance to check, she knew there was no need to worry.

Jyzenne had brought her food that evening, but she had not eaten. The talk she had had with Catelyn was still on her mind. For a moment, she hesitated, wondering if it would truly be a good idea to mention it in front of Robb, but then remembered their promise regarding honesty and shook her head.

"I have spoken to your mother," or Catelyn had spoken to her, frankly. She did not bother to tie the laces tightly all the way to the front, and let the robe fall around her shoulders, leaving them uncovered. She took a seat in front of the mirror, one leg crossing the other, and reached for the hair brush. "She reproached me for my silence. I should have expected it. She only sees me when I am ill and when I pray."

Somehow, it was difficult even for Caireann to admit that she was not doing much more than that. Could she? No. Not without reproaching Robb herself. She was weak in everyone's eyes and would continue to be so until she got the chance to prove them all wrong.

Eventually, she glanced over to him in the mirror, eyes trying to read his own. She knew he had gone to dine with his comrades and family, and perhaps she should have gone to join them. Day by day, she felt more distant and afraid to interfere in those moments. Still, she missed having breakfast with him, or a snack in the afternoon.

Books were not enough to keep her thoughts busy entirely, and Mina was not enough to fill the emptiness in her mind.

 

[Lucyfer]

When Robb arrived, the question was thrown in the air, and he gave a smile, a nod. “Just a bit,” dealing with war made the day long, and it made him want to end it all the more, but he still appreciated this space away from it all. He did not like to leave it, and yet there was a part of him that was annoyed by only having Caireann here, and not out there, as well. Still, having a place away from the chaos was nice, and he did appreciate that this room remained hat for them.

It seemed his mother did, as well, and he let out a groan of frustration, just as he was slipping out of his cape, “I’ll speak with her tomorrow,” he promised, irked to hear the news of his mother. “Did she come to see you here in regards to it?” The details were important, he needed to know what to speak to his mother about. Sansa had tried to make it clear to Catelyn that she could not harass his wife, her daughter-in-law. She needed to start seeing Caireann as just that.

They were family now, after all. She should treat her well, not harass her. She would not approach Sansa nor Arya in these ways. Somehow, Robb had to make it clear that she could not do this to Caireann, either. He didn’t know how to reconcile it, though.

The auburn-haired king would then notice the tray of food, uneaten, and that spark of irritation he felt towards Caireann bubbled up again, “But you need to eat, Caireann,” he said, gesturing to the plate. Otherwise, she’d end up ill again from malnutrition. As difficult as Catelyn was at understanding that Caireann was her daughter-in-law, Caireann was difficult when it came to taking care of herself, and with his schedule, and Lenore away, she couldn't be constantly looked after like a child. 'Except she is.' She had two handmaidens now, and Thom. Why weren't they making sure she ate? Perhaps he should speak with Mina, as well....

“Do you want something else?” Perhaps the food was simply not appetizing. He heard that pregnant woman had cravings, or had issues eating some foods. If she needed something else to eat, he would be sure to go and retrieve it – though she should have mentioned it when it was brought, rather than wait for him.

He may be out of his cape, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t leave. He waited by the door, in case she did want him to get something else. He could leave to gather her a meal.

 

[peritwinkle]

Of course Robb would feel irritated with his mother's sour demeanor, but franky, Caireann did not mind it as much anymore. She dismissed his annoyance with a slight gesture. "We met when I was leaving to take a walk in the gardens." She had found that the walk with her had not been so bad. "You should not criticise her as much, Robb. I know you do, in your mind. She only wants what is best for you."

And Caireann knew that she was not the best decision he could have taken in terms of marriage. While she did not agree of Catelyn's attitude towards her, their marriage was not entirely lucrative when it came to political advantages. It had been out of love, which was strange in those times. His mother had not married out of love, after all.

She rolled her eyes when he brought up food. "I ate an enormous lunch today and quite late as well," she explained. The irked expression etched on his face was evident. It worried her and tugged at her heart, thinking that he was still struggling to protect her. "I am well, Robb. I will have a snack before I go to sleep."

With her hair brushed and left to flow over her uncovered shoulders, she rose from her chair and leaned against the backrest as she stood. "You said we should be honest with eachother," a reminder, to allow her to hesitate before speaking. "I want to help you. I do not wish to stand around here all day and do nothing." Lenore had promised she would teach her about treatments and medicine, but she had not gotten the chance to, in the shadow of the past events.

'And you would never allow me to be on the field with you.'

Still, there were other things she could do. If she was not allowed in the council, she wanted to have a voice when he made decisions and contemplated over his issues. She wanted to be there for him as her Queen, not only a chance for respite before he went to sleep. Some women were made to bear children and serve their husbands, but she did not want her life to resume to merely that.

Perhaps it was not a good place nor time to discuss such things. Caireann was still wearing a revealing gown, fussed about her rights while at the same time refused food for the time being. She was the definition of a distraction, yet she had promised him that she would not lie any more.

 

[Lucyfer]

‘Well, at least you are going out some.’ Robb thought as Caireann mentioned going out to the gardens. He had been concerned his mother showed up at her room and cornered her there, but at least it was while she was out. It did not make it much better, though. “I know that she wants what is best for me, she’s my mother,” as if that should be obvious. Robb knew her good intentions, but that did not mean he approved of her methods. Cornering Caireann to tell her she was not doing good was not a positive method.

His eyes shifted to the food. ‘Then why was such a large dinner prepared for you? Your handmaidens must have known…could you not tell them?’ They could have brought her less, or nothing until later. Perhaps just that snack. Robb wanted to believe her, but he hadn’t seen proof of the lunch, and he was aware of Caireann’s bad habit of not eating. “Fine, so long as you eat something before bed.” It felt like he was talking to Rickon.

Caireann rose, leaned on the backrest, and spoke of helping, but to his ears it sounded like the times she parroted what he’d already said. When he told her of strikes and she said they needed to strike. Right then it seemed she must be parroting what Catelyn had told her. “It can start by you not staying in here all day.” Robb said before he had too much time to think of softening the words for her. “Caireann, you’re not a prisoner any longer, you’re my queen,” he reminded her, his hands moving in front of him as he held them open.

“Yet you seem to stay here all day, never letting your people see you, never getting to know the situation in the camp, and I don’t understand why,” he said, “I know before you were ill, but you have recovered now.” Yet she’d done this at Casterly Rock, as well, only going to pray, nothing else. She should be going around and getting to know her people, getting to know the situation, being seen and being visible. The North wasn’t going to love a Queen who stayed locked in her room all day.

 

[peritwinkle]

Caireann's heart sunk as she listened to Robb speak. His vexation was plain and clear, and she knew very well that she was the cause of it as a whole. Too much time had passed since their wedding, since she should have started to act as a Queen not only in name, but in fact as well. As Robb was a head of the Alliance, she needed to be his support, always lurk in his shadow and try to listen, understand and offer her counsel on the matters at hand.

The disbelief in his voice was obvious and it pained her. It had been her silence the reason behind their slow, painful separation. It was not only love that tied a pair together, but confidence and communication, which they so often seemed to lack.

'And if you know all those things, why are you not acting?'

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, thinking, calculating her words before allowing them to flow out again. "I do want to go out, Robb," she sighed out as she opened her eyes again to look at him. "I want to do something, anything for you! When I asked you about the council, you said I was not experienced enough to join. I am a woman, Robb, I never thought you would see me as more than a burden if I went around following you and giving orders!"

Her hands were shaking as she gesticulated, nervous and fiery simultaneously. The feeling of frustration burnt through her and reverberated in her voice, high pitched and louder than his. He had not tried to soften his words for her, and as soon as her own spilled out, they sounded as honest and foursquare as they could possibly be.

Caireann let out a soft breath, in an effort to alleviate her own attitude. "I have lived my whole life in enclosure," she murmured. "All I know is how to read, to sing, to write... I was never allowed to strive for more and you know that. In my family, it is the men that lead, and only those who, in their perspective, are worthy of doing so." Tyrion had not been allowed to make choices, to speak up, nevertheless inherit Casterly Rock after Jaime had joined the kingsguard. "Women are meant to listen and endure."

A parrot, as always, but it was evident that she did not believe the latter. She was no longer a Lannister, no longer tied to a House that only provided for her for the sole reason of her name. She had openly betrayed them and if they were ever to see again, Tywin would have her head without a second thought, Lannister or not. If she had given that for the sake of Robb, of House Stark and the Alliance, then she did not want to spend the rest of her days locked inside.

"I want to learn to lead," she concluded. "I want to learn to speak up and weigh my words before I speak. One day or another you will leave Winterfell in my hands, and I won't be able to make you proud from behind my bedroom's door."

As little as Catelyn had said, she had been right. The woman only wanted to make the best out of a bad situation. She wanted Robb to have a reliable wife, not merely one who would disregard his issues and only listen, without daring to act. Otherwise, he might have as well chosen to marry a Frey.

 

[Lucyfer]

So it seemed denial of the council was enough for Caireann to think she wasn’t wanted anywhere, and Robb allowed a flustered sigh to escape his lips, “You will never become experienced enough for the Council if you do not know the situation or the people, Caireann,” he told her, his tone not hard, but nowhere near soft, either. He pulled his fingers back through his auburn hair and looked at her, blue eyes catching her hazel. “I admire book knowledge, but the kind of experience you need now is the kind you will gain by leaving this room, with and without me, and taking in what is going on.”

He wished he could say that Catelyn would be of assistance to her understanding of her role, but that may not be the case. Sansa would, Margaery perhaps, and certainly Olenna. They had been brought up to be more than brood mares. They had been brought up to lead. “I don’t think Cersei took any of those lessons to heart,” he pointed out, casting doubt on what she said of her family as a whole, but not on what she may have been taught. “Regardless – you want to learn to lead, you have to see what you’re leading.”

He gestured towards the door, “You have no place in the Council, and that won’t change for a while, but to gain it, to earn the trust of those here, you need to observe drills. You need to speak to those soldiers in leading positions, and the camp chefs and medics. You need to learn what their roles are, what their concerns are, and much else. When I’m here at Lannisport, much of my day is spent making sure the drills are running smoothly, that our supplies are in good order, our finances are in good order, and that the scouts we expected to report in, have done so. Council matters aren’t all I do, though these come to influence the Council.”

The hand he’d pushed through his hair dropped down to his side again, “It starts first with getting to know what we have,” he made sure to use ‘we’, because she was right. One day, it would be left in her hands, and she needed to be able to take all of this information and more, to learn to make critical decisions regarding the well-being of their livelihoods. “I do not expect you to run drills with my men – I don’t learn from the medics, and I do not cook, but I have come to understand their needs, and how each piece functions in the whole of the war machine.

“You can join me tomorrow. You can join me each day, and learn what it is I do here. Sansa, Catelyn, Margaery, and Olenna, may also offer more…specific insights into what to expect that I would not fully grasp,” he added, in case she would not be as comfortable with him right then.

 

[peritwinkle]

Leading was not an easy job. It was why none of those who lead were alone, not even in the lowest of ranks. There was room for improvement on Robb's part, he knew that well, but at least he sought it instead of waiting and letting others do the work. A King served his people, not the other way around, and the first step in serving a kingdom was getting to know those who lived in it, who provided for it, its future and well being as a whole.

There were many types of fear that Caireann had felt over the course of her life: she had felt terror in the face of danger, anxiety when overwhelmed by a certain impasse... That which she felt right then was a mixture of all which burnt, ached, stung her heart, whilst at the same time urged her to strive to do more.

And she would have done more, had she known. She would have tried to learn what it was like to lead, yet she had started on that path from the very bottom, as a prisoner who had no right to speak anywhere near her political and situational superiors. She had not changed ever since then and acknowledged it to be a problem. Her mentality had remained the same, while her condition had changed drastically. She was a Queen as much as Robb was a King.

Caireann's eyes lowered as she listened to him speak. His tone seemed harsh, but she understood where that chagrin and frustration came from. "I did not know you wanted me to," she almost whispered, before forcing herself to look up into his eyes. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. "If you are willing to teach me, than I am willing to learn." She did not wish to spend the rest of her days doing needlework or reading books about how to rule.

With the window opened, a brisk slant of wind slipped in, teasing through her hair. She almost did not feel the cold, with the colour having vanished from her cheeks. In spite of the time, her mind was fully awake, even if her expression was blank and faltering. His words had made her wish to go out, to explore, to move and talk. To do something, anything but stand around and watch their battles being fought and won without any effort coming from her part. It was late, indeed, too late to make a change then.

She would only have to hope that the next day would bring something better.

Breaking herself away from the backrest of her chair, Caireann straightened her back and moved her glance to him, attentively, obediently, whilst as steadfast as an unmoving statue. "I love you," she concluded, "and I will do everything I can for you, for our people, for this Alliance. Maybe I will make myself a bracelet as well, in the end," even if she knew she would never give up.

Indeed, she was still young. She was frail and weak, but she was brave enough not to back down. Bravery did not always mean to stand up for oneself, but to not run away instead of searching for a solution. If Robb had left his family and matured enough to lead an army, an entire nation, then she could as well.

 

[Lucyfer]

Caireann’s posture did not speak of a leader. Her eyes lowered, and she acted in a way that suggested subordination, and Robb found himself sighing at it. She did have much to learn, not only about this camp and the North, but how to hold herself as a Queen before others. Perhaps here, it was more appropriate, but with the conversation before them, he didn’t want to see this bland submissiveness. Eagerness, perhaps. Interest, even.

She seemed to only want to do it because it was what he was telling her. ‘Or perhaps because she is shamed.’ He had presumed too much, that she would know already to do these things. He hadn’t forgotten her life, exactly, but still expected her to naturally step up after she spoke of the council. Though she was denied that, he’d been encouraged by her interest, unpressured.

“I am willing to teach you…but don’t let me be your only source,” he smiled as he stepped towards her, hoping to soften his words. Her eyes were back on him, at least, “I love you. I would not have married you if I did not believe you were capable. I’ve seen your strength shine at times, Caireann…and I still believe in you. I…assumed too much, and I should have said something sooner.”

Catelyn did get in the way with her constant harassment and beratement of Caireann. He wouldn’t have wanted to bring it up right after she had, lest it seem like he was giving too much interest in his mother’s wants and not Caireann’s own, or his own.

He would reach out to wrap his arm around Caireann’s waist if she allowed, and with his other hand, cup her cheek and keep her head tilted up to look at him. He didn’t want her looking down again. He leaned to press his forehead to hers, “Tomorrow we will begin. I will introduce you to many of those who serve me in various fashions, and you will see how this camp runs. It will take time, but…I never led an army before recently, and I am doing well. I believe in you, and I believe all that knowledge you’ve gained from reading will help you to learn to put it all into practice, once you’re out there.”

He would be there to guide her, and he hoped that others would be, as well.

She would grow into her position as a Queen.

 

[peritwinkle]

Simply the fact that Robb believed in her was more than enough to spark Caireann's own confidence. She had feared interfering in his own daily tasks and routine, but now that she was allowed and encouraged to do so, she could only see it as a step forward, more in their relationship if nothing else. She would come to learn, just as he had, as Sansa, Margaery and Olenna had way before her. The two girls, they were young, but had more experience in those matters that Caireann could hope for right then.

He came closer, and her stomach twisted slightly, but the sweet simper that played on his lips softened his act. The to her waist was not denied, but welcomed with avidity, and she met the press of his forehead against his own with a smile. She did not lower her head; instead, she held it up to his, as a first sign that she acknowledged her need to grow stronger. To impose her dominance as well, not only lower her gaze at orders and criticism.

"We left Casterly Rock before Lady Reyne got the chance to teach me the art of treating the wounded," she sighed in disappointment, "and I know that you do not want me in the field, endangered... Not now, perhaps. But it is something I wish to learn." She did not know how to fight, nor did she have the time to learn such a complex skill in a matter of weeks or months. Sparring was something else, but she was mainly interested in medicine and treatments. Plants, elixirs, concoctions.

In making a difference, passively.

It was getting late and she longed for the warmth of her bed, of her King's body, yet in spite of her languor, she knew that she would not be able to fall asleep with ease. Those thoughts of a future - not too far - responsibility tugged at her heart and ate away from her perpetual tranquility. There was so much that she had to learn, so much that she was required to do soon enough, that sleep no longer seemed as important to her.

Still, Caireann did not want to be the burden she had feared in front of Robb. She was pregnant, and he was deeply convinced that she was refusing food when, truly, she simply did not feel the need to eat. Jyzenne had not brought much but a tray of oatmeal, sweetened with syrup, and a plate with sweet potatoes. Perhaps she would be able to taste it before bed, at least so that Robb would see it was not her intention to starve herself. She was not Bran, nor Rickon, nor a child, yet he was as protective towards her as if she were one.

 

[Lucyfer]

With his arm around her waist, she held her gaze up to his and there was no need for his fingers to keep it so, so he let them drop, brushed back her hair to clear her vision. She spoke then of healing, and it was true, he did not want her on the field. Yet, there were things she could learn to do that would not put her on the field. Mix poultices. Learn to bandage. These could be done when the battle was over, and helping to create healing supplies was usually needed before a battle. It would be an activity to keep her busy while others fought. Something useful.

“First things first,” he wouldn’t deny it, but that ought to come after she had a better understanding of all that was out there, and all she could potentially contribute to. “I don’t want you in the field…but there are a few things that could be done before, or after, a battle.” Pregnant as she was, he wouldn’t risk either her or their child, but that didn’t mean there was nothing to do.

He shifted away from her then, leaving another kiss on her forehead as he did. His fingers glided over her form as they left it, around her back and over her side, glad that at least at the moment, this issue seemed like one that could now fade, and easily. She hadn’t wanted to be cooped up all day, either. “Eat a bit,” he tried to encourage, since she had said she would have a snack, “Tomorrow there will be much to do and see,” and not as much time to rest. Well, if she needed to, of course she would, but tomorrow would be a lot of walking around and standing.

He would then pull of his own tunic, and start to undress himself a bit to settle in for the night as well, “In the morning after breakfast, we’ll be seeing Lord Bolton off, and then check on the drills being run,” normally he would join a few, but that day he would refrain and just consider the schedule, and what they might need to begin to prepare for in the future, “After that, if it hasn’t taken too long, we’ll check in on supplies and finances for the camp in general, and then have lunch. Then we’ll check with the maesters and medics – but usually the drills take up a good portion of the morning,” they were also a supply check of sorts, making sure their weapons and armor were in good order, acquiring more arrows, things like that.

“Usually something unexpected comes up that needs our attention, as well,” he sighed – there was always that. Expect the unexpected. It was usually something fairly minor. “Then in the evening, I’ll show you the board we use for formulating strategies, once we get the report of any scouts checking in.” He finally was dressed down, disrobing all while he spoke, and he looked to her with a smile, hoping it all made sense, but there was some nervousness in that smile, a concern that it didn’t make sense to her.

He hoped an outline would better help her wrap her head all around what they would be doing tomorrow, and she could then lay out how it may all fit together to the whole. He’d be better able to answer questions about particulars in the morning, but that would at least keep her prepared.

 

[peritwinkle]

After all the fuss and annoyance, Robb's tenderness came as a moment of solace in Caireann's heart. When he parted from her with a kiss, she found that her hands were still trembling with the agitation of the past moment. She would have wanted to show more strength and eagerness, yet it implied more effort than she would have imagined.

To keep her hands occupied, she moved away from him to give him room to change, slipping onto the bed herself. She picked up a fork and started digging into the potatoes seasoned with lemon and rosemary; surprisingly, it was not the sweet treat that caught her attention right then. She nibbled on a small piece as she listened to him, curled up on the bed like a child, with her flesh not covered in silk, but kissed by the breeze that blew through the cracked window.

"It seems like a long day ahead," she sighed, that soft smile never leaving her lips. She was looking forward to the new experience, even if Robb might think otherwise of her. "I can only hope that your mother, Lady Catelyn, will be there to witness at least a fraction of it." Her words sounded slightly bitter, but she could not have phrased them otherwise. She did want Catelyn to understand her intentions for once. To see that she could as good, if not better than a Frey.

The jealousy, of course, was still there. She knew what the North would have wanted, what the Alliance would have hoped for and how difficult it would be to now fix the gap between their House and Lord Walder's. She often wondered if he would have been happier with another and now was one of those moments. It was not something she could help, but only endure until she came to forget about such a small issue, which was frankly no longer an issue at all.

Caireann let the fork drop back on the plate and lowered herself in bed, cuddling up to the warm blanket rimmed with fur. "I think I am most looking forward to you teaching me war strategy," yet she could not exactly tell why. Perhaps it was merely his face when he focused on explaining: to her, he was endearing when he was brooding, deepened in thought. Just like a child, passionately expounding the rules of his favourite game.

Only war was not entirely a game, and not truly his favourite. Warriors were good at killing, but that did not mean they enjoyed it. Even the sight of a dying man frightened her. She could vividly remember the night the Alliance had hosted an attack on her uncle's army, burnt the tents and those inside. She had been able to smell burning flesh, hear the shrieks of dying souls, feel the taste of blood sprayed on her lips. As a medic, she would have to see such gore more often, but a long path lay ahead of her until she would be required to learn.

 

[Lucyfer]

‘Arya liked the figures and the map, too.’ Robb couldn’t help but think as Caireann mentioned she was most interested in that. It was the trickiest part to work with, but it helped him to prepare strategies. It aided in visualizing all of it, and for a moment he did wish Sebaston was back, or any of the West. He had a map, of course, but those who knew the West itself were beneficial. Gerald and Lymond seemed to know it best.

“I’ll do what I can,” without an actual battle being planned, and without the input of others, it would be a loose overview of strategy, but he would certainly let her see all that went into thinking over it.

He looked over her bitter tone. She defended Catelyn, but then spoke so bitterly of her…he was just hoping the two would come to get over their issues in the future. He wasn’t sure how long he could endure them bickering.

Right then, however, he was optimistic, and he moved under the fur to join her to rest, moving a hand over her head, through her hair, “Good night, my queen,” and he would pull her to him if allowed, to rest with her in his arms.

He would rest until the light of dawn disturbed him, and then would he rise, rather than go back to sleep, and dress himself, encouraging Caireann to do so as well. They would need to get breakfast, and then see Lord Bolton off. Fortunately, the kitchen staff was awake early enough as well to prepare a meal to send off the Lord, and there were many options available, though the grits were the most populous.

Lord Bolton would join them, rather than force Robb to go out and see him off. He did not linger; the Lord of the Dreadfort wanted to be off immediately and didn’t hold them up. He did seem intrigued by the presence of Caireann, but made no show of it, only bid them farewell.

With Lord Bolton gone, and breakfast eaten, the drills were not as ambitious as normal, nor as large. Robb introduced Caireann to many of his commanding officers – Master Otto, Ser Ulliver, Master Nevan, and a host of others who aided in teaching the Northern forces how to fight and stay in shape, each performing mastery in some area or another. Otto was notable for his skill in archery and siege weaponry, Ser Ulliver – as any knight – was skilled with swordplay and horseback riding, and Master Nevan was more of a utilitarian fighter, someone Adryan may have gotten along with. Strategy was his forte and utilizing an environment.

Robb made sure to show Caireann how some of the drills went – the targets for arrows, the spars, the training exercises with blades and posturing, and Nevan’s ever-changing obstacle courses. Ulliver and Otto were polite and cordial to Caireann – Nevan was the only one who could have been called rude, or tactless, in any way, apparently not feeling he had time for her.

With that seen to, Robb did go to check supplies and finances, letting Caireann see the paperwork and the information of their stores of gold. They weren’t able to make much money except from plunder they stole. Fortunately, Lannister plunder was rather…good. He felt a bit embarrassed to even show his finances, but she would need to know what they had, and how it was being used to run things and keep things going, as well as what items were considered key.

Medicines were high on the list, as were arrows. Food was also high, and then weapons and armor – wherever possible, Robb preferred to repair what they had, or use weapons picked up from the enemy. Fortunately, those expenses weren’t great, they had more than enough to equip their current forces.

Lunch would be quick, late, before Robb would take Caireann to introduce her to the couple of maesters in Lannisport, as well as the medics that worked under them. Aeron wasn’t there, serving in Casterly instead, but there were others that had come down from the North: maester Yael and maester Selwyn, who worked alongside a woman, Lacey. Right then, they were more in the process of preparing ointments and such, but they were pleased enough to meet the Queen of the North.

~***~

“We are not leaving until they return.”

Gerald Vikary was getting anxious the longer they waited for Ciaran and Adryan, unsure what kept Lenore so rigid. Nor could she explain it. She knew they ought to leave them for dead and continue on, as the sun crept up over the horizon and shown down upon them. Yet, she stayed, and would hear nothing of leaving.

Over and over, the melody that had been long forgotten was coming back, and her mind continued to wonder at why. How.

The silence and frustration of the morning was broken by the sounds of hooves, and then the sight of Ciaran with Adryan sharing the horse with him, clearly exhausted. Gerald was the first over, and he caught Adryan as Ciaran loosened his grip, the knight falling like a ragdoll into the Vikary’s arms, “Shit,” he grumbled as he carried Adryan some steps away and laid him down, noticing the arrows.

Lenore didn’t go right to him, but caught a glance, “Get the armor of off him,” she ordered Gerald, as she instead went to Ciaran as he tied his horse to a tree. He turned to her, almost as tired as Adryan. He tried to smile, but it faltered under her searching gaze. “How did you know?” Low voice. He’d promised to tell her.

He glanced around her, and saw the stump. In the light of day, it was obvious it was a weirwood, though at night it had not been so. He looked back to Lenore. “I dreamt it,” he wouldn’t lie, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him. “I don’t know if it was the weirwood giving me the vision, I don’t know if it was the Seven, I don’t know if it was something else – but I saw him, and I remembered the location, so I went to him."

“And…the song…?”

“I saw Roger singing to you…or it must have been Roger. I didn’t hear it all, I’m sorry,” he sighed, “though I think I heard it in Casterly Rock,” he frowned then, trying to remember when or how, but he had remembered the melody from recent times. Even Lenore seemed confused by it, but…he wasn’t wrong.

It struck them at the same moment, the eyes catching with the same realization. His mouth parted to say it, but she shook her head, trying not to let that hope overwhelm her. “Maybe.” She said. “When we return, we’ll see,” she could see the tears threatening to spill in his eyes, the hope, that perhaps his mother was there – perhaps his aunt.

Lenore turned then to Adryan, who was starting to become a bit more awake now that the armor was off and he had to endure so much movement. “What happened…?”

“We lost, and Ciaran found you,” Lenore said, looking over the wound. Without Torrent, she didn’t have her usual supplies. No formal bandages. Nothing to kill the pain, but fortunately, it looked like they were just scratches. Bloody, but not deep. It wasn’t the wounds bothering him. “Sleep. We’ll stay here a couple more hours. You’re going to be fine,” she reached a hand to his hair, tousling it a bit, which caused him to bat almost playfully at it, before he shut his eyes to drift off as commanded, while Lenore would tear up cloth to at least wrap the wounds.

 

[peritwinkle]

After seeing Lord Bolton off the following morning, Caireann tried to steel herself for worse reactions than just a cold glare. There was much left to do ahead of them, and indeed, much followed, as they spent their entire morning checking on drills, on those who were training for future battles. It was what Robb ought to do as well soon, but she assumed that he was way too busy during the day to take part in such exhausting activities.

The most tedious job was by far making sure that the finances were in order. Books said nothing about paperwork, but clearly there was a reason in that. Caireann could not fathom how one would be so passionate about signing paper and counting numbers to write an entire book about it, yet without a doubt, if not the others as well, Tywin had a bunch stacked in his endless shelves that he so rarely touched or looked at.

It was strange to her how others could live so easily without books. To her, it would be a burden that would only hold her down.

They were nearing the afternoon when they found the time to check on the supplies needed for treatments. She was not familiar to those in the room; all she knew was that the two men were maesters, wearing the appropriate attire for such job, and the other was either a medic or an apprentice there for her training. Soon enough, Caireann would get the chance to learn from them as well, if Robb allowed. As he has said, it did not have to be something dangerous to fill her time. She could help save lives and sew wounds away from the battlefield, while she was still providing medical attention to those who required it. With time, she might even join the medics in their work.

"My Queen," the woman said quickly as they stepped inside. She looked quite phased with her appearance, but did not dare to ask why she was there. "I would not have thought His Grace would bring you along. Otherwise, we would have cleaned up a bit around here..."

The Queen only looked at her with a bright smile and shook her head, dismissing her worries. "I am learning, just like you are," only Robb was her teacher for now, not a maester. "Although I am interesting in studying medicine if it is possible, in the near future." She could not hope to become a maester, of course; fame was not her purpose, she merely wanted to be of use.

The air carried a herbal scent, intense enough to make her eyes tear, but not at all unpleasant. She was, however, still unfamiliar with anything apart from names of plants and other ingredients used for the most basic ointments. The book Robb had bought was enormous and contained so much information, it would be impossible for anyone to remember its content entirely, or memorize it by heart. It was only a reference, in the end; only experience was the best teacher.

Lacey shot a look to the King, visibly intrigued by Caireann's request, whilst at the same time quite curious. "Is it true? Well... Well it will take a while, we..." It was clear that they were in a rush. If there was a battle to be held soon, everything had to be prepared beforehand, and all of those necessities were needed to accommodate every one of the thousands of soldiers, not only in Robb's army but the others' as well.

The girl let out a brief sigh, "No, not now... We were... Only checking to see if everything is in order and if there is anything that you need." She let go of her colloquial tone in favour of a more formal one, steadfast but still cordial. She strived to make Robb proud, even if she was taking baby steps towards the confidence that a Queen needed.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb let Caireann wander off with Lacey, quietly surprised she didn't wish to speak work one of the actual maesters. Perhaps he shouldn't have been considering Lenore, but her own training had come from a maester, not a medicine woman. They were both necessary roles in war, of course, like the Silent Sisters. Without them, they wouldn't have enough people to tend to the needs of war.

"Lord Bolton took the majority of our supplies with him," maester Yael indicated. "We are currently restocking and recreating our supplies. I don't yet know precisely what we will need. I will have a better idea in a couple of days one I see how far our current stock will go for making more milk of the poppy and the like."

Robb gave an appreciative nod to the older man. "Thank you. So we are good on bandages and the other things?"

"We should be, yes," he agreed, casting a glance to Selwyn.

The younger man nodded. "Fairly easy to come by, here. We have excess." Robb was pleased to hear it.

"Please keep me informed. If we face battle soon, I want to know my men are taken care of."

Yael gave an agreeable nod, then glanced towards Lacey and the queen. Robb added, "She may wish to learn some of the arts in the future...nothing for the field."

"I understand," Yael answered. "No one likes to do nothing. When that time comes we will help her."

"Thank you," Robb smiled to the maesters.

Selwyn shook his head, "It's no hardship; we need more hands healing."

 

[peritwinkle]

Indeed, not many were interested in the job of a field medic, mainly because it was as dangerous as it was gruesome. Men sought to become soldiers or knights, build a family and a future whilst being able to defend both. Women, on the other side, worked on farms and took care of their children. Often those that were found in war were there because they had no other place to go, not because of their passion for making a difference in the world.

Still, whatever the reason, healing hands were appreciated and required at all times. Caireann was looking forward to learning in the days that came, whenever she took a break from checking drills and finances. It was an activity that would keep her mind busy whenever Robb could not, whilst at the same time allowing her to do something more useful than long walks on the shore.

Lacey drew closer to the group, just sealing the lid of jar filled with an intensely scented liquid. "I have learnt from the best of maesters," she smiled to the two men by her side. "I would be honoured to have you as a comrade in studying, my Queen." Only from the way she spoke, it was clear that she was a Northerner. Few people of the West or Reach called her Queen.

Not even Lenore did, and it was more or less vexatious.

Caireann laced her fingers with Robb's and gave her a nod of gratitude, extended to all of those in the room. "We should tend to the rest of our tasks," she suggested then. She was eager to see what else there was to be done, but she could not lie and say that she was not exhausted, even after half a day of walking around. If this was what Robb did every single day, then she had no right to complain in the evening. She could only admire his energy and kindness to her, in spite of his accumulated fatigue.

With time, she would learn to do the same. Until then, she was still a child, looking forward to the end of the day to curl up beneath her blankets and fall asleep in his arms. There had been no night more dulcet than the one after their fight, when she had known she was still safe, still loved.

 

[Lucyfer]

Caireann returned to his side with Lacey, closing a jar as she did. Her fingers laced with his, and he closed his hand around hers, letting her be at his side as Caireann spoke of moving on. It was fortunate there was nothing else to discuss. The maesters were getting a grip of what was available to them, now that Lord Bolton had left with much of it. His forces would face the brunt of any attacks when they went on the offensive. Robb would likely remain here to safeguard Lannisport, and he imagined someone would be left to preserve Casterly Rock. He was not sure who that would be, though he imagined it Sebaston.

A pity – certainly he wanted to move back to his ships, but his duty was as Lenore’s second in command. If she was leaving, he would have to hold Casterly, and Lenore always put herself out into the field.

“Thank you for the information, maester Yael. I will check again with you later,” Robb indicated, before he inclined his head to the three, and led Caireann out to tend to the rest of the tasks of the day.

The only other major one was the scouts, and there wasn’t much to learn. No movements noticed from Tywin. The Mountain hadn’t been stopped last anyone knew, though it apparently seemed he had fewer men then before. None commented on Lenore’s position, and none seemed to know if the Mountain had been attacked or not – but he had two prisoners, not three.

Oberyn Martell and Cybelle Farman. No Doran. Robb’s stomach twisted at what that could mean, and when he and Caireann finally moved to the council room where the map was set up with its pieces, Robb did move to make adjustments. The Mountain’s piece, a large grouping of three dogs, was pushed closer to King’s Landing, with a Farman piece and a Martell piece, but only one.

He knocked Doran’s over in the West, uncertain of whether it would be picked up, or removed. Lenore’s, he hesitated to do the same with, and in the end simply left it where it was, a spot on the gold road, though he couldn’t be certain. Bolton’s piece was moved between Lannisport and Casterly Rock, and it was only after he moved it, that he recalled Caireann’s presence.

He lifted his thoughtful gaze up quickly, and gestured, “I trust you understand at least the gist of this?” The pieces and what they meant – as well as the placements on the map. The Lannister forces were all around King’s Landing, Marbrand and Banefort sigils raised high among them, just as there were other scattered pieces representing the House leaders of all sides. Mormont’s bear was there, and another, to represent her daughters’ last known location.

 

[peritwinkle]

The day passed almost too quickly, and as the night ate away all the light of the dozing sun, Caireann felt the weight of it all lowering upon her shoulders. She was a bit hungry as well, but she knew that there was one more thing Robb would have to introduce her to: something she had been looking forward to ever since that morning, and in spite of her visible exhaustion, she found the strength to stay up just enough to absorb and give it all of her attention.

As soon as they stepped inside of the council room, she felt a shiver run down her spine. She remembered it well, as the place where they had made love for the second time. The place of many decisions, of first words and fearsome fears. It felt colder inside than the rest of the castle; perhaps it had been used less, or she simply longed for the warmth of a thick blanket over her form.

Robb analysed every detail of the board and started moving the pieces around. It was clear what their purpose were: each and every one portrayed either a player in the game of thrones, or a House standing its ground, either in defense or preparing for an attack. She had seen such board before and had learnt about the Houses of Westeros through it, although so much time had passed that she barely remembered some of them. It was only the names that still rung in her ears, as spoken by her father or Lord Tywin.

She nodded as a response to his inquiry and drew closer, eyes fixated on the shape that had been knocked over in the West, not too far away from that which represented Lenore Reyne. "Why do you use those boards?" she asked softly, bending over the table to reach the very top. She ran her fingers over the point that depicted Winterfell. "Is it to help you remember every position of those around you? How does it help you plan attacks?"

She could not see how it could not be replaced by a thorough explanation. Of course, it might aid in it, but Robb's interest in it was beyond her understanding.

Politics and strategy had never been her favourite subjects, but her curiosity overshadow any hardship towards them. She had only read about history for the most part of her childhood and knew enough of it to aid when it came to discussing insights, but she could not tell how a siege was supposed to win one a battle, or what the rearguard was supposed to do during an attack. She did not know what was needed to sabotage the income of a noble House, or the laws on which were based taxes and tolls.

Still, somehow, she knew she was better at giving advice than respecting it, and she lifted her eyes to him, in hopes of hearing the answer to all of those questions which, for one reason or another, bothered her. As a Queen, she ought to be confident in discussions of a political or strategic nature. Right then, she resumed to being a child, more curious to learn the rules of a new game than go to sleep.

 

[Lucyfer]

The board was quite useful in planning attacks, and Robb nodded at that deduction, as she bended over the table, near Winterfell. Right now, Winterfell was of no concern, but there was still a wolf there to represent his brother, Bran, who held it – just as there was still a Flayed Man at the Dreadfort, a Spoon in the Fern Valley.

There was almost always someone of the House left behind in their lands.

But not Clegane’s lands.

One could give long-winded explanations of every position, but this was a quick way, and he gestured to it, “A few seconds of looking at the map, I know how my allies and my enemies are aligned. I can consider many possible attacks at once, without needing to ask questions of where any particular individual is,” talking could take a while to explain things, “Not only that, the map tells us about the landscape, which can be used in planning attacks, as well. It lets us know regions that are heavily hilled or forested, lakes and rivers – all of these things need to be taken into consideration to discern the best way to get an advantage in a combat situation.”

His finger trailed over the Gold Road, “A fight along the Gold Road wouldn’t allow for much strategizing, so if Tywin’s army were moving along it, without considering what’s around it, one would just think to engage him directly, but,” Robb motioned to an area that was particularly hilly. “There are good locations to scout from, or to launch a skirmish attack from along it, that may go unnoticed. You can also hide forces, potentially, here,” tapped another area of trees.

“In this way, no one has to ask many questions. We can get right down to just discussing the strategy, by looking at the map, and where everyone was last known to be,” he explained, “it saves time, and time is critical in war.”

Without this, they would end up drawing it out to help keep track of things as they discussed it. A visual medium would always be necessary to make plans.

The smile was in his eyes, but it was both focused and distracted. “Does that make sense?” he didn’t know if it would. To him, it all made perfect sense, but he’d been learning these boards since he was young. It all seemed like a second language to him, learned ages ago.

~***~

Lenore hated sharing the saddle with Adryan. Lenore hated not having Torrent with her, and she hated the news that Tyros fell, while she and her soldiers retreated from a battle they should have won. They had enough men when they attacked Ser Clegane, but the Mountain still won.

Gerald had been gloomy since they marched on back to Casterly. She heard him muttering over strategy, and how things could have been different. He had exploded once that they should have just done a straight on attack, but he’d been calmed from that, and now sulked in the silence of the night, sharing with Ciaran.

“What are we going to tell Sebaston?” Gerald’s voice again.

“The truth, as we know it,” Adryan answered. “Cybelle was there, and she was alive. We know nothing else.”

“We know plenty else,” Lenore remembered her first arrow quite well. She should have aimed it at the Mountain, perhaps. Should have aimed it at Lorch. Yet, instead, she took out a nameless nobody because he was fucking Cybelle against a tree. It still turned her stomach.

“We can’t tell him that….”

“He will know it already,” deep down. Lenore let out a sigh, “but we tell him she is alive. Oberyn is alive.”

“Doran?”

“He must be dead. We’ll need to write to Dorne.” Lenore didn’t believe there was any other fate. He hadn’t been there. They didn’t see that the Mountain’s group split into two. Doran was gone. Tywin must have wanted him dead, and it made sense – to him, perhaps. “Arianne Martell won’t abide by these sorts of threats.” At least, Lenore hoped she would not. She would now be the ruling party of Dorne in Doran’s absence. They’d have to treat with her to make her commit soldiers to the cause.

To avenge her father.

“Arianne? Don’t you mean Trystane?” Gerald asked.

“Dornish custom – the woman inherits.” Lenore reminded. “You know,” she smirked, “how we may start doing things here in the West.”

Gerald chuckled a bit at that, “Touche.”

Ciaran piped up then, sudden and strange, “Lenore, do you have any Shade of the Evening? Not here – Casterly?”

“…yes.” Her tone was wary. “Why?”

“I’ve heard it can…aid in seeing visions.” His mind was still upon the dream, upon finding Adryan. “It can help to show the future, and I thought—”

“No.” She denied without letting him finish, “It will show you lies and turn your lips blue.” Yet the refusal was too curt for Ciaran to fully believe that.

“Your lips aren’t blue,” he figured she tried it. She tried all her poisons.

“You have to drink it often for that…still. No. It’s good for disorienting people, that’s all, or getting them to confess things they may not want to.” In the fits of their visions. One could too easily guide those visions with casual suggestions, when the Shade was hidden in a drink.

“But—”

“No. We don’t have time for it now.”

~***~

Blue lips cut into a smile, icy as the heart of the owner, though everything about his expression seemed to be laughing as he stepped out onto the dark ship. Silence fell everywhere in the peace of the night, so hard to tell the sky from the sea, as the stars were reflected in the still waters that lapped at the boat’s hull as it moved gracefully over the sea. The man ignored the crew that worked around him, going on up towards the wheel where a silent man guided the ship.

“New destination,” the black-haired man said, laying a hand on the other. Lifeless eyes turned to look at him. “Volantis.”

He’d seen a golden lion prowling those shores. He’d seen the kraken wrap its tentacles around that lithe form, and he was curious to follow that sight as the blood spilled over onto lands he knew too well. The burning ships of Lannisport and her bloody shores were never forgotten, nor those infamous three ships he knew of that ever-despised House Farman.

But no dancing stags any longer….

He heard all about the chaos of Westeros while abroad. He had laughed when he heard a Reyne lived and mocked Tywin as so many others did. He was losing to a girl, and a child, and Euron Greyjoy didn’t truly care. It was of no concern to him, as he sought dragons and power. Whoever held it when he returned to Westeros would soon enough lose it when he came to claim what should have always belonged to him – everything.

A child and a woman would be easier to deal with than Tywin, though.

But the golden lion, prowling Volantine shores?

He didn’t think to ignore that vision. Nor did his crew, as the steering man nodded, and Euron moved then amongst the crew to deliver the message and help to adjust the turn of the sails to get them on the right track, and make sure the rest of his fleet was signalled to turn towards Volantis in the dark of the night.

 

[peritwinkle]

Caireann listened, and although Robb spoke with a fire of passion burning through every word, she did not miss any of what he said. And he was saying the truth: a map was better represented than described. Perhaps not all of those in his group of strategists knew the layout of Westeros by heart, with all of its hills, its forests, its mountains and roads that were fit for attacking, defending and scouting. It would be a rather long job to learn it as it was.

The smile on his lips was endearing as he tried to give the best answer possible to her question. She leaned over the table closer to him and picked up the wooden figurine that represented Bran. "It does make sense," she nodded, "but it is also frightening to think about." She let out a sigh and closed her eyes for a moment. "Your brother, Bran, has probably had to learn it as well by now... Preparing for days of war ever since childhood. It is a terrible thing to think about."

Her childhood had not been particularly entertaining, either, but she had never had the need to worry about the outside world, about issues of politics and war, battles, threats... All of those were a mystery to her, and a nuisance every time it was brought up around her.

Likely, that had contributed to her inability to perceive danger as it was. Of course, she struggled to be strong. She struggled to move on and grow, yet deep in her heart she was still a child, they all were, and they needed to be cradled every once in a while and shown the right path. Bran was merely a child as well, but surrounded by love and taught from a young age, it was easier for him to normalise those things.

Caireann hopped onto the table, sitting right on the corner so she did not disturb the sculptures. "I still look at you sometimes and wonder at the story behind that scar," she sighed. "I feel like it is a dream... I am just so far away from it all, that I only get to see the outcome." Had something more perilous happened to him, she would not have been there to try and protect him. "You know your way around when it comes to war, battles, scouting... ruling. One day I will have to do that as well. It is so easy for you, but for me..."

A hand reached out to cup his cheek, while the other to graze her fingers over his own. Every time she touched his skin, she expected it to be as cold as the North, but was always pleasantly surprised by a soothing warmth. The scar, faded now, was still glinting in the dim light, like a shadow of the past. She could see the exhaustion etched on his face, mirroring her own. It was there, but he hid it too well.

"Are you ever afraid?" Caireann murmured then, analysing him as if he were the most intricate painting. "Or are Kings supposed to know no fear?"

 

[Lucyfer]

Fortunately, it seemed even war strategy of this level made sense. Robb hadn’t been sure if it would, since to him it was all second-nature, as it would soon be to Bran. She played with that figure a bit between her fingers, and he had to bite back a need to comment that the board wasn’t a toy. She had only moved one piece. He knew where that piece belonged, as well. Yet his father had instilled the board with such gravity, after so many incidents of young Starks playing with the pieces, that Robb felt that urge rise. They hadn’t even been in war at that time, but his father would still go to look at it, as if anticipating it….

Perhaps he always knew Robert’s reign wouldn’t last. ‘What would he think of me now?’ Robb couldn’t help but imagine that Eddard would be disappointed in him for trying to make the North separate from the South once more.

He didn’t want to think of that.

He didn’t want to think of how terrible it was for Bran to learn it, because of the implications. “Westeros has never known even half a century without war,” Robb murmured, “It’s necessary for them to know.” Bran and Rickon both. “It will be necessary for our children to learn, as well.”

Not for her – not all of this. She moved up onto the corner of the table, and Robb moved towards her then, leaving the pieces set as they were, to be adjusted with new information, as she spoke of how she would have to do all of this some day. He shook his head in denial, before he paused as she asked a question of fear. He smiled a bit, “My father told us we should be afraid. A man, a lord, a king, who isn't afraid, is no good ruler. A father is always afraid for his children...so a lord should always be afraid for his people," Robb answered, "You can’t be brave if you’re not afraid…it’s the only time you are brave,” he said as her hand softly cupped his cheek. He lifted his hand to it, as his other hand wrapped around the one playing over it, and he set both in her lap as he moved to be in front of her, holding them there.

“Every battle I am afraid. Every decision, I am afraid. What if I lose this battle? What if I’ve made the wrong decision? What if, what if – I can’t predict the future, no one can, and there’s always something unseen,” his eyes drifted from her, to the map, “This helps, but it can’t show everything,” there were always pieces of knowledge they didn’t have, “We didn’t know that Ser Clegane was in the West until it was too late.” His eyes drifted back to her. “And I was in no position to do anything, but prepare for the return of my allies, and prepare for their anger.” Ice to meet Fire, and soldiers to take ground in the West.

“The scar is nothing,” he said then, smiling. Had he not told the story? It wasn’t much of one, really, “I’m surprised it scarred at all…it was just a small cut from a blade. After Lord Bolton unlocked the gates,” where, how, or why the man knew how to pick locks was a matter he never questioned, “I barreled into the stronghold right after Grey Wind, and they were more prepared than I expected. A soldier was able to slash me with a blade, and Lord Bolton assisted in getting me to my feet after.” Disoriented and bloody vision hadn’t helped him. He still didn’t know why everyone seemed to mistrust the Lord of the Dreadfort. “Head wounds bleed more than others.” But he didn’t think they scarred so easily.

“That’s all it was,” he said, and lifted one of his hands to her face, fingers trailing a line where the scar would have been on her face, “But you’ll never need to know that. Battle and warfare…they aren’t for you,” strategy, perhaps, but not the rest. “You will rule, and you will learn strategy and some of war, but I hope you will never have to be on the field itself,” it was no place for her, no place for anyone in truth, but especially not his Caireann, as his fingers would continue up to comb back strands of her hair.

 

[peritwinkle]

Fear. It was what gave one bravery to keep fighting, whilst at the same time stripped them of that courage if they were not strong enough to overcome it. Robb had learnt to do that with time, and Caireann felt her heart swell with pride at her husband's valiance. It took decades for some to learn it, while he was just a little more than a child and still did not back down in the face of danger, but fought to keep others safe from it instead of himself. He sought and found perfection in imperfection, balance in a restless sea of emotions.

So close to his heart, Caireann could hear and feel it beating as he spoke. Everything that he said, it was true entirely; she could only know from the passion in his words. Indeed, a battlefield was not a place for a woman, nor man, who was not skilled with any weapon. It was only through hundreds of fights that one was able to grow in strength, live to see the end and tell the story.

Still, battles were not always fought with swords and horses. Some were fought from behind an impending letter, through determined words and perilous compromise. It was mostly how she imagined her grandfather Tywin did, her father Tyrion would have done, had he inherited Casterly Rock. Then, she would have gone to lead with him and had to learn all of what Robb was trying to teach her, as the future of House Lannister.

But now, she was the future of House Stark, her and Robb, and the child she was to give him one day.

Caireann let a smile graced her lips when he mentioned fighting. "Lady Mormont's daughters have all learnt to fight from a very young age. I am looking forward to meeting them, perhaps they could teach me a thing or two about how to be a woman." She chuckled lightly and shook her head. It was impressive how almost all women on Bear Island could fight, just like the men did. Truly inspiring and unique, a concept that any other Southern woman would have thought of as factitious rather than heartening.

"It is not my wish to cause death, but to stop it," she sighed then, "although I do know that is not always possible." She had seen people die and knew what the terror felt like. It still vibrated in her vividly whenever she dreamt about the night she was captured. "I know you would never want me there, I... I would be a distraction." In an effort to try to shield her, he would only bring that danger upon himself.

She turned her head to the hand that brushed her hair away and pressed a kiss to his palm, before opening her arms to bring him into an embrace. Another kiss would target his neck for a small peck, whilst her fingers curled up in his hair. "Just like I am now, when we were in the middle of a learning process." A trill escaped her lips to lighten the heavy atmosphere. Small acts, even as small as that, seemed to so easily affect him. She did not wish to see him gloomy, but encouraged, even if at times she herself might not be.

He was the King, the pylon which she had to support. If he fell, she would hold him up. It was the least she could do.