Robb did not appear hurt at her sincerity, and Caireann was more than glad he had agreed to joining her for breakfast. Starting the day with him by her side sparked her appetite and made her jolly, at least for the time being. It was now a tradition for them to have breakfast together, for they had done so almost every morning from the day they met, but adding Willas and Margaery to the equation did not seem to be such a bad thing. If they were to be Robb's allies one day, he ought to get to know them better, as little as she liked the idea of having to endure his glances at Margaery's neckline.
When he mentioned her attire, she shrugged and bit her lip. "My pink one needs sewing after you tore it apart at the laces. I will ask Mina to sew it for me if she has the time." She always patched up her skirts whenever it was needed, and did quite a good job as well. The seams were barely visible between the folds. "I have three or four more, from some of the maidens around the castle," and they were in perfectly good shape. The red one was the prettiest, though the cut was not fit for a breakfast. Not for her, either way.
Caireann placed her empty plate of puree on the bedside and started seducing the berry cobbler. "I don't want you to buy me silks and dresses," she frowned a little as she dug through it. "Not when you can spare your gold for your men." Dresses wore off and faded with time; even as some were beautiful, they were simple pieces of material. "I am sure Mina or any other maiden will have something nice for me to wear... If not, I will have her hasten the process of repairing my pink one."
A smile spread across her lips at a vivid memory, and when she lifted her gaze to meet him, her eyes glistened in anticipation. "If there will be a feast, I will wear my red gown, and you could wear your attire from the first," hopefully, it wouldn't bring back sad memories. "You looked so handsome in white...," or any light colour, for that matter. His darker clothing made her think of war and suffering, and it was not a context in which she wanted to remember him. "But you always look handsome... Especially when you breathe," she chuckled.
Only because it was all he had to do to make her happy – breathe.
~***~
Jaime was somehow relieved when he heard that Lenore would eventually be alright, even if the effect was not immediate. Though, twelve hours was almost too much time, and he was not sure how she would cope with attending the council so early in the morning after that incident. "She had the whole night to properly rest," he said and stood up. "Move her to the bed." She needed it more than him. A chair was not a comfortable place for a longer nap, even if she did not feel anything in the meantime.
It still scared him to see her like this, unmoving, as though it were the calm before the storm, and as much as he tried to tell himself she would be well, it was still impossible not to think of the worst. Aeron looked optimistic, but Tybalt was as fierce as a lion in that moment, waiting to throttle the life out of anyone who dared to touch his daughter then. There was something in the way he looked at Jaime that unrested him, but he chose to ignore it right then. He could not quench his worries for the sake of appearing frigid in front of them.
He was not Lenore Reyne.
With slower movements this time, Jaime made his way to his bed, grunting at every single step that he took against the broken bone. The pieces had been sutured together, but it still moved unnaturally in his calf, and he could feel each drop of blood rushing and gushing through his veins into the spot. When he did reach it after, what had felt like more than a few steps, he let himself fall onto the mattress and bit his lips again to muffle an audible growl. His heartbeat was decreasing in rate, thankfully, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep at all that night.
And, without a question, Hill would stay there with her as well if the rest did not. He tried to push himself into thinking Lenore would wake up in the morning, as bitter as she had always been, demanding more tea and trying to reassure everyone she felt fine. "I think you should keep that box for a while," Jaime looked over at Aeron, "so she is not tempted to start using them again soon."
When he mentioned her attire, she shrugged and bit her lip. "My pink one needs sewing after you tore it apart at the laces. I will ask Mina to sew it for me if she has the time." She always patched up her skirts whenever it was needed, and did quite a good job as well. The seams were barely visible between the folds. "I have three or four more, from some of the maidens around the castle," and they were in perfectly good shape. The red one was the prettiest, though the cut was not fit for a breakfast. Not for her, either way.
Caireann placed her empty plate of puree on the bedside and started seducing the berry cobbler. "I don't want you to buy me silks and dresses," she frowned a little as she dug through it. "Not when you can spare your gold for your men." Dresses wore off and faded with time; even as some were beautiful, they were simple pieces of material. "I am sure Mina or any other maiden will have something nice for me to wear... If not, I will have her hasten the process of repairing my pink one."
A smile spread across her lips at a vivid memory, and when she lifted her gaze to meet him, her eyes glistened in anticipation. "If there will be a feast, I will wear my red gown, and you could wear your attire from the first," hopefully, it wouldn't bring back sad memories. "You looked so handsome in white...," or any light colour, for that matter. His darker clothing made her think of war and suffering, and it was not a context in which she wanted to remember him. "But you always look handsome... Especially when you breathe," she chuckled.
Only because it was all he had to do to make her happy – breathe.
~***~
Jaime was somehow relieved when he heard that Lenore would eventually be alright, even if the effect was not immediate. Though, twelve hours was almost too much time, and he was not sure how she would cope with attending the council so early in the morning after that incident. "She had the whole night to properly rest," he said and stood up. "Move her to the bed." She needed it more than him. A chair was not a comfortable place for a longer nap, even if she did not feel anything in the meantime.
It still scared him to see her like this, unmoving, as though it were the calm before the storm, and as much as he tried to tell himself she would be well, it was still impossible not to think of the worst. Aeron looked optimistic, but Tybalt was as fierce as a lion in that moment, waiting to throttle the life out of anyone who dared to touch his daughter then. There was something in the way he looked at Jaime that unrested him, but he chose to ignore it right then. He could not quench his worries for the sake of appearing frigid in front of them.
He was not Lenore Reyne.
With slower movements this time, Jaime made his way to his bed, grunting at every single step that he took against the broken bone. The pieces had been sutured together, but it still moved unnaturally in his calf, and he could feel each drop of blood rushing and gushing through his veins into the spot. When he did reach it after, what had felt like more than a few steps, he let himself fall onto the mattress and bit his lips again to muffle an audible growl. His heartbeat was decreasing in rate, thankfully, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep at all that night.
And, without a question, Hill would stay there with her as well if the rest did not. He tried to push himself into thinking Lenore would wake up in the morning, as bitter as she had always been, demanding more tea and trying to reassure everyone she felt fine. "I think you should keep that box for a while," Jaime looked over at Aeron, "so she is not tempted to start using them again soon."