Author's note: Thank you Jan, Guest, and crystaltonics for your lovely reviews!
I'd also like to add that I'm aware that I've changed the characters' ages up a little, but I figured that these changes were within reason, given the fact that Meria and Brandon's marriage and Lyra's presence would naturally disrupt the original story enough to change them.
Anyways, enjoy ^.^
Chapter 3: The Usurper's Court
"Shadow! Shadow!" Lyra shouted for her black furred wolf in the courtyard of Winterfell.
Looking around her and not seeing the juvenile wolf, she called again; Shadow!
Hearing a bark, she turned towards the sound.
"There you are handsome boy!"
She saw him watching her, almost expectantly, at the entrance to the crypts. However, as she began to walk towards him, the black wolf turned and ran into the crypts.
"C'mon Shadow! Let's not play games", Lyra sighed irritably. After calling her wolf out twice, but to no avail, she decided to go in the crypts after him.
Picking up a torch, the crypts were already lit as they usually were during the day, but it was still difficult to see sometimes without some source of light in hand. Traveling down the crypts, Lyra began to feel uneasy as a sense of dread washed over her.
"Shadow!" Lyra called out harshly. She wanted to get out; the crypts were eerily quiet without the usual hustle and bustle of the Stark household outside to echo into the dark, damp cave-like structure.
Hearing a bark, Lyra spotted her dire-wolf peering out from one of the crevices. She tried to beckon her wolf to her, but instead, he simply barked at her before trotting back into the alcove where a Stark lord was entombed. Groaning in irritation, Lyra picked up her skirts and quickly walked towards the alcove her stubborn dire-wolf was hiding in. However, upon arriving in front of the tomb, she didn't see the dire-wolf.
"Shadow?" Lyra cautiously whispered; paralyzing fear causing her voice to strain. Walking closer to the tomb, Lyra held up the torch in her hand. Her blood went cold when she saw whose statue her beloved wolf was hiding behind: her father's.
Staring at Brandon Stark's likeness, chills went down Lyra's spine. She didn't even notice Shadow come out of hiding until he pressed his cold nose against her left hand. Almost jumping out of her skin at the unexpected contact, Lyra admonished her wolf; "Shadow! Don't scare me like that!"
The wolf only starred at her, his sweet grey eyes innocent as he licked her hand in an attempt to calm his lady.
Wait, his eyes aren't supposed to be grey anymore, they turned green like Shaggydog's once he became a juvenile; Lyra thought curiously to herself as she scratched Shadow behind his ear.
Just then, a cold gust of wind suddenly blew in Lyra's face, followed by heavy, almost metallic breathing. Feeling her blood go cold, she didn't want to look its source: the statue in front of her; but she did anyway, much to her horror. Heart racing and breathing hard, Lyra dropped the torch to the ground as she saw the statue of Brandon Stark slowly come to life.
"Lyra", Brandon said; his face cracking at the mouth as he spoke.
As Lyra tried to back away, Brandon's arm shot out and grabbed her shoulder to keep her still. She could hear the dreadful cracking of stone as he did so.
"Lyra! Listen to me! Winter is coming, and you must protect the pack! The stag comes surrounded by lions in the dragon's den. Things are not what them seem!"
Shooting up, awake in bed, Lyra looked around the dark room lit by a couple of candles. The warmth of the candle light contrasting with the cold darkness of her dream. Looking around the room, she saw Shadow asleep at the foot of her bed.
It was just a dream, Lyra tried to calm herself; however, she failed to convince even herself that there was nothing to fear as thoughts of her father's warning invaded her mind for the rest of the night.
Spurring his horse faster so as to stay a head of the King's caravan, Jaime Lannister awoke from his thoughts about the previous night.
Last night, when the rest of the King's household was abed and asleep, Jaime and his twin, the Queen, had a rendezvous in the trees. Though traveling with a large party at a snails pace for over a month was not something Jaime enjoyed; he did enjoy the fact that traveling made it easier to be alone with his sister. Everyone was too busy with their own pre-occupations or business to bother with or care about where he and Cersei went.
Usually, after Jaime was relieved of duty for the night, he'd go to Cersei. The Queen, dismissing her handmaidens, would invite Jaime into her tent for wine, and usually, Tyrion would join them, having nothing better to do. As evening came, Tyrion would go back to his tent, usually too drunk to do so without assistance. Jaime would then take his little brother to his tent, making sure that Tyrion was safely in bed and asleep in a position so as he would not choke on his own vomit should his body feel the urge to empty his stomach of the wine. Afterwards, Jaime would grab more wine before returning to his sister's tent. Though the journey had many fallbacks, one was not that the journey made it harder for Jaime and Cersei to have more time alone. The fact that King Robert preferred to stay in tents outdoors, instead of inside the holdfasts he and his household had been invited to stay in for the night, gave the twins adequate coverage for their "activities".
After Tyrion was in bed, Jaime would usually come back to his sister's tent to find her naked and waiting for him. Though they'd been doing this for many years now, Cersei's beauty still left Jaime without any wits. Having three children hadn't done his sister's body any favors, but she was still as elegant and beautiful in form as she was when she was when she was a newly crowned Queen at seventeen. In fact, she somehow looked better now than she did at seventeen; the curves and rounded breasts granted to her by age and carrying children, his children, had replaced the skinniness of her youth.
Drunkenly, Cersei would saunter over to her twin before passionately kissing him, her perfect brother. Dashingly handsome, golden hair falling just above his shoulders, and emerald green cat-like eyes. All just like her own.
After their foreplay, Cersei would put on her robe and tell Jaime to find an excuse to escort her to the woods. Usually, Jaime would tell Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the King's Guard, that his sister had some "personal business" to take care of in the woods and felt too embarrassed for anyone but her own brother to help her. Selmy and the rest of the men bought Jaime's story, and, just like the rest of the court, just assumed that the Queen and her twin brother were simply closer than any of them could imagine due to being twins.
It all worked like a charm, and Jaime and his sister would fuck in the woods without fear of interruption.
Thinking about their romps in the woods got Jaime aroused again, however, he pushed these thoughts aside. With the King and his court nearing Winterfell, Jaime needed to focus, so he put his helm back on and spurred his horse to the front of the caravan. He then found his thoughts drifting to the gossip about Lord Stark's niece, Lyra Stark.
The girl is in a strange position indeed, Jaime thought to himself.
A Stark raised in Sunspear, for the most part, who was under the protection of House Martell, was definitely something to gossip about indeed. Especially considering her relation to the late Targaryens. Jaime had heard that the future Lady of Winterfell tended to spurn tradition, and had even taken up martial skills at the young age of eight. Jaime had always thought that the North generally saw women the way his father often saw them; ladies who didn't belong anywhere near politics or swords, and should instead obey the head of their houses by making good marriage aliances and only set their hearts on marriage, running their husbands households and caring for his children. However, it seemed as though Lyra Stark had won over the Northern lords, given the fact that when they spoke of her unusual penchant for the martial pursuits and situation, they often talked about it as an interesting novelty rather than something to be scorned and discouraged.
Jaime had even heard that she'd won many archery contests both up North and in Dorne, in addition to being excellent and talented with a sword. This alone had piqued Jaime's curiosity about the Sun Wolf.
Cat was in a tizzy to say the least. The King's Court was originally due to not arrive on time, and the Lady of Winterfell was under the impression that she'd have another fortnight to prepare for the royal visit. As a result, Cat pushed the preparations to the back of her mind and she focused more on her duties to her husband and as mother to their children.
True, the mis-timming of the King and his court's arrival to Winterfell had allowed Cat a brief, but much needed, reprieve from the stress of the preparation; however, now she was beginning to regret it. The King and his court would now be arriving today, three days earlier than she and the Stark household had expected. They'd just received a raven this morning to expect the King and his court's arrival just after midday.
Having very little time to prepare herself and the household for the royal visit, Cat had the servants get the children up early this morning so they could have ample time to bathe and get ready for the King.
Sansa, Cat's oldest daughter and best behaved of the children, got up immediately, excited for the King's arrival, to bathe and wash her auburn hair so she could look her best for the Prince. However, Arya and Lyra were different stories...Both girls were the most ornery of the Stark children. Arya was being a pain because she generally hated being forced into taking baths; and Lyra was not eager to get out of the warmth of her bed, saying that she'd had a hard time sleeping last night due to a nightmare.
As Sansa and Robb volunteered to take their baths first, Arya and Lyra broke their fasts with the other children in the Main Dinning Hall. After Sansa had finished, Cat and Septa Mordane both felt that Lyra should go next due to her thick, hip length hair taking so long to dry. When the servants came to fetch Lyra for her bath, she and Arya were nowhere to be found, much to Cat and Septa Mordane's horror.
Having Bran go next and little Rickon have his bath in the girls' tub (Cat figured that being only five years Rickon and the girls were unlikely to care about having to share the same bath water as long as it remained warm), Cat had the servants look all over the castle to find the two missing girls while she directed the preparations. However, neither girls were found to be anywhere in the castle. They'd even checked the Broken Tower to make sure they hadn't snuck off there.
Cat, having a feeling, went to the God's Wood to check there herself. Relieved and irritated all at once, she found Lyra, asleep against the Heart Tree, with Arya's head on her shoulder, fast asleep as well. Had it been any other time, Cat would have actually found this site to be quite sweet and cute; her youngest daughter had very few "ladies" for friends, and though Lyra constantly wanted to practice archery or spar with the boys, she could be quite a gracious lady just like Sansa when she needed or wanted to be. It was nice for Cat to see Lyra get along with the hard-headed, boyish Arya and treat her with as much love and respect as Sansa usually got; however, they were pressed for time at the moment.
Shaking the girls awake, Lyra seemed sincere as she apologized profusely as they had intended to pray for a good royal visit, but she and Arya had accidentally fallen asleep. Cat, wanting to be angry with her niece for wasting her time, even if it was unintended, found herself unable to be angry with either girls; instead, she simply told Lyra that all was fine and that her dornish handmaiden, Ashara Dayne, named for her beautiful, tragic aunt, was waiting in the girls' sitting room, ready to help her wash her hair. She decided against telling the girls about Rickon having just bathed in the girls' bath as she didn't want to risk the potential headache of Arya arguing with her about having to share her brother's bath water, which was something she didn't even like doing with Sansa.
As Lyra gently pulled Arya off of her so she could get up and run for her bath, Cat stayed and woke a still sleeping Arya up all while reminding herself to ask a servant to bring Lyra some tea to help her wake up. In fact, perhaps all of the children should have some more tea this morning, Cat thought as she was finding it difficult to get Arya to properly wake up.
Feeling guilty about making her Aunt Cat hunt her and Arya down in the God's Wood when she already had too much to do, Lyra picked up her skirts and ran to the sitting room she shared with the girls at Winterfell.
Lyra arrived to the sitting room with the big fireplace just as Rickon was leaving. The Five-year-old laughing as if he had just done something mischievous as he did so.
"Arya has to bathe in my bath water!" He said as Septa Mordane took the small child to his room to dress. Though little Rickon was barely five and had yet to understand the inappropriateness of doing so, he still found it funny since the girls, especially Arya, would get upset when he bathed in the same water as they. Ever the proper lady since she was two, Sansa, looking irritated that her youngest brother was bathing in the same room she was in, finally threw off the blanket that she had covering herself as she was only in her small clothes.
As Ashara dumped some of the bath water out and refilled the tub with hot water, Lyra began to undress. It had been over an hour since the tub was first filled with hot water, and thus, it needed to be refilled as the water had gone cold. Due to her blonde handmaiden's short, petite physique, she was having difficulty with the buckets and dumping their contents, so Lyra decided to help , in Dorne, servants did this, not handmaidens, but the North was different. Though Lyra liked to think of herself as being quite independent, she found it strange that her aunt Cat didn't have handmaidens; only servants whom did multiple different tasks around Winterfell. Although, Lyra supposed that Septa Mordane could somewhat be counted as a sort of handmaiden...
"Here, let me help. It will go faster, my friend," Lyra said as she helped Ashara pick up a bucket. Though Lyra was built more like the Martells, elegant and slim with a small breast, she was also stronger with, relatively, broad shoulders and good muscle tone due to her Stark heritage and martial training since she was eight.
"Thank you, my lady," Ashara said breathlessly as Lyra helped her with the buckets. Though the two dornish women were on a first name basis since they were fourteen and Lyra generally considered Ashara to be her best friend, Sansa was in the room with them, letting her damp auburn hair dry by the roaring fire; Sansa generally didn't approve of servants and handmaidens being on a first name basis with their ladies. She deemed it inappropriate and improper etiquette.
The two dornish women finally getting the water in the tub warm again, Lyra stripped off her small clothes and her corset before getting into the brass tub. The water was a bit hot, but as Lyra got used to it, she began to enjoy the heat as it helped the kinks in her muscles unwind and relax. Letting out a soft sigh as she dipped her hair in the water and relaxed her aching neck, Sansa finally spoke:
"I hear the Crown Prince is very handsome, and he's only less than two years my senior," Sansa told her cousin dreamily.
Lyra could only roll her eyes as her cousin, soon to be good-sister, spoke dreamily about the Crown Prince. Lyra and Jon had spoken this morning while breaking their fasts with the other Stark children in the Great Dinning Hall, and apparently, Robb had heard that the Prince was a "right royal prick".
"Which dress do you plan to wear?" Lyra asked her daydreaming cousin. She was also bored and trying to make conversation as Ashara was busy adding vanilla scented oils and soap to suds up the water.
"Hmm..." Sansa thought for a moment. "I was thinking of my blue one to wear for the King's arrival, but I'm still not sure what to wear tonight at the feast," Sansa responded.
As Lyra scrubbed her face and body clean of grime, she listened to Sansa go over a mental inventory of the dresses she owned, which were many; Sansa was the most talented high born seamstress Lyra had ever seen! The soft blue dress Sansa was considering for the King's arrival made her Tully blue eyes and auburn hair striking, especially in daylight. Which Lyra figured was why her cousin was considering that particular dress in order to look pretty for the Crown Prince.
"How about your green one for the feast? The one you made like your mother's," Lyra suggested as Ashara poured water on her hair and wrung the soap along with the grime out over a basin. "I think the green one is quite pretty with your hair. I think your mother is wearing her green dress too." Lyra would never get over how similar Sansa was to Catelyn. Not only did mother and daughter look alike, but they also behaved alike and had the same tendencies.
"Maybe," Sansa said as she was being laced into her corset. "What do you plan to wear?" She suddenly asked Lyra, who tried to quickly think of a good one before Sansa excitedly interjected; You should let me dress you! Arya never lets me dress her, and you have all of those beautiful dresses from Dorne that you never wear. Well, save for that grey and black one i suppose." Truth be told, Sansa loved her only cousin's exotic inventory of dresses and jewelry from a principality so far away, and she'd always wanted to borrow one. However, though Sansa and Lyra were the same height, Sansa wouldn't be able to wear one of Lyra's dresses without alterations; her cousin was a woman grown and thus, despite possessing the Martell slimness and small breast, actually had much curvier hips and a nipped in waist. When Sansa would fret over these differences, her cousin would assure her that she was only thirteen and had more growing to do. In fact, Lyra predicted that Sansa would be just as curvy as herself, if not, more so because Aunt Cat was of fuller breast than herself or her mother.
Looking at her younger, enthused cousin, Lyra remembered that aunt Cat had only asked for her help with keeping the children pre-occupied, clean, and out of trouble. This in mind, Lyra reluctantly agreed to let Sansa pick out a dress for her.
"What colors would you prefer?" Sansa asked Lyra.
"I don't know, you're the expert," Lyra answered with a small laugh. She was certain that whatever dress Sansa chose for her, it would look lovely, but she was afraid of it being too frilly. As Sansa left for Lyra's room, she shouted, "Just don't pick one that's too frilly!"
When Ashara finished with Lyra's hair, she got out of the tub and told a maid to go fetch Arya for her bath. Getting into a robe, Lyra sat on the opposite side of the sofa that Sansa was sitting on earlier and let her wet, hip length hair cascade down the arm so it could dry faster. The warmth of the fire making her drowsy, a maid then came in with black tea and Arya in tow. Hearing Arya complain about being the last person to use the bath, as she always did, Lyra reminded her about the bath oils she'd used earlier. The novelty of bathing in oils seemed to pacify Arya as the servant had an easier time getting the girl to sit still while she washed her hair.
Grateful for the warm tea as Lyra felt chilled from getting out of the hot bath, Sansa finally came back with a dress. Perking up from the tea, Lyra was pleasantly surprised at Sansa's choice; she'd chosen her silver-grey dress with long flowing sleeves and blue winter roses sewn onto the front, similar to the dress Sansa planned to wear for the King's arrival. She told her that she'd chosen her silver dire wolf ring, given to Lyra by her father, and her dire wolf pendant with the silver matching earrings. Sansa had also chosen for Lyra to wear the black cape with the grey fox sewn onto the shoulders.
When Arya, finished with her bath, the youngest girl joined the two older girls for tea. All three of them perking up from the stimulating black tea, they began chatting away about everything from archery to the Crown Prince. Sansa and Arya having their hair being braided in the Northern style, Lyra was being laced into her corset and dressed. When Ashara left to go retrieve the jewelry Sansa had placed for Lyra to wear in her room and to bring back pins and hair ties so that she could help Lyra style her hair, Sansa spoke dreamily again about the Prince. Arya and Lyra rolled their eyes as the auburn haired girl spoke; they both figured that Sansa was hoping for a potential betrothal to the Prince considering the way Sansa spoke of him and the fact that the King was riding all the way North to ask Ned to be his Hand.
Seven Hells
Finally arriving to the fortress of a castle that was Winterfell, Jaime was ahead of the King's caravan in case they should be so fortunate as to run into bandits; he'd at least be able to fight someone. He was more than happy to dismount from his horse as he waited for Robert with everyone else as his lower back was beginning to bother him from riding for so long in his heavy armor.
King Robert finally arriving, the entire Stark household kneeled with, who Jaime believed to be, Lord Eddard Stark. The King and Warden of the North being foster brothers, Robert motioned his foster brother to rise as soon as he approached him. Finally able to take his helmet off, Jaime went to stand next to Cersei as she got out of the carriage with Myrcella and Tommen. Watching the formalities as Robert examined the Stark children, Jaime suddenly felt a cold shiver go down his spine as the King got to the black haired girl wearing a silvery-grey dress standing between Lord stark's heir and his eldest daughter.
Lady Lyra Stark...
Jaime hadn't seen the girl since she was four, visiting her cousin Rhaenys and her aunt, Princess Ellia, at the capitol. Locking eyes with Lyra Stark, it was as if a ghost from his past had come back to haunt him; though she looked much like her mother, he couldn't help but to think that if he'd been able to save Princess Rhaenys, she and Lyra would have grown to look quite similar. However, as much as her warm doe eyes reminded him of Rhaenys and Ellia, the princesses he'd failed to save, looking at the girl's more Stark-like face, Jaime was also reminded of how he'd been forced to watch her father strangle himself to death while attempting to save his father, Rickard Stark, from being burned alive. Trying to push these awful memories out of his mind, Jaime could still smell Lord Rickard's roasting flesh and the awful sound Brandon's neck made when it finally broke.
Noticing the two staring at each other in recognition, Cersei gave her twin a curious look before her attention was rudely averted to Robert's wish to visit the dead girl's crypt.
"We've been riding for over a month, my love," Cersei did her best to sound the part of Robert's loving queen. "The dead can wait." As if Cersei's pride wasn't already wounded enough, Robert said nothing to her as he rudely turned his back and forced Lord Stark, who to his credit, gave Cersei a sympathetic look before he was forced to lead the King to Lyanna Stark's crypt.
Embarrassed that she had been ignored and left to wait out in the cold by her own husband, Cersei tried to wait patiently, while also trying to stop the sour look creeping onto her face. That is, until she heard the youngest Stark girl wonder allowed as to where "the Imp" was.
Cersei, not liking the way her twin and Lyra Stark were looking at one another, ordered Jaime to go find the little beast. She saw Jaime, to his credit, look relieved to have a task and get away from the awkward situation that had ensued after Robert and Ned went to the crypts.
Taking a moment to figure out where his little brother could be, Jaime figured he'd gone to the brothel in the village just outside of the Castle Winterfell. Leaving his helm with his squire, Jaime set off on the short walk to the local village whorehouse. As he walked, the only thing he could think about was Lyra Stark, and the things he found himself thinking about were things he knew would only enrage Cersei or make her jealous. Though Jaime had heard much of the Starks in general on his way North (the Starks were apparently well beloved by their own people), he was particularly curious about Lyra Stark, the future Lady Stark of Winterfell, as was the rest of the North. The girl was much of an enigma, even to her own future subjects.
The Sun Wolf...
Normally, nicknames were given to the Starks, and even then, it was usually only the men who'd received nicknames. Jaime found it odd that Lyra Stark saw herself as a Stark and desperately wanted to reclaim the seat she felt was rightfully hers, yet she seemed more dornish and Martell to him with her loose and wild thick hair, warm passionate eyes and penchant for war and battle. At least, that was the gossip among the Stark vessels and small folk.
How fucking rude can you be?! Lyra angrily thought to herself while she waited, seemingly patiently, with everyone else out in the court yard. Looking over at the Queen after she ordered her twin to retrieve their youngest brother, Tyrion Lannister, or more infamously known as "the Imp", she and Lyra then exchanged glances. Though Lyra didn't care for King Robert, viewing him more as a usurper than a King, he was still, by law, Lyra's King and her uncle's best friend, so she was doing her best to behave pleasantly and hold her tongue. Returning the Queen's glance with a small smile and nod in respectful acknowledgement, despite Lyra's hatred for Robert, Lyra couldn't help but to feel sorry for the Queen about the way her husband treated her. No wife deserved to be so coldly ignored by her own husband, especially one who seemed as graceful as Cersei; however, Lyra couldn't help but to notice the curious look on her queen's face.
Is she angry with me? Lyra wondered; looking at the strange expression on the Queen's face. Is it because of my relationship with my late aunt and cousins? Lyra did remember hearing once that the Queen and her father, Lord Tywin Lannister, were hoping for a betrothal to Prince Rhaegar, and that they'd felt slighted when the Mad King had refused. However, Lyra and everyone else's attention was averted when Ned and the King finally re-emerged from the crypts.
After everyone was ordered inside, the Stark children did their duties to their parents' guests. Aunt Cat escorted the King inside the castle, while Ned escorted the Queen. Normally, Robb would have escorted Lyra as she was his betrothed, but this time, he escorted Princess Myrcella, who looked quite smitten with Robb, and Sansa did the same with Prince Joffrey; much to Robb's chagrin. As Arya begrudgingly escorted Prince Tommen, Lyra realized that she was the only lady in the court yard to not have an escort! Feeling embarrassment heat her cheeks, Lyra suddenly felt a little tug on the sleeve of her dress. Looking down, she saw that the person tugging at her sleeve was wild little Rickon.
"I'll escort you Lyra!" The youngest Stark declared excitedly.
Leaning down so she could take the little boy's arm, Lyra thought he was adorable; "Why thank you Lord Rickon! I'd be happy to have such a handsome, fierce young man escort me," Lyra said in the voice of a damsel in distresse who was just being saved by her noble knight. Little Rickon, being the youngest, and thus, often forgotten by everyone, loved it when the girls, especially Sansa and Lyra, treated him as if he were grown and a noble lord.
"Hey! That was my plan. I wanted to escort Lyra!" Bran suddenly said; coming up to Lyra's other side.
"Well! This is a rarity; to have two dashing young men escort me! I'd be honored if both of you would escort me to the Great Hall," Lyra declared rather grandly. She loved playing with the little children, they were so much fun to tease and pretend with.
Watching as the last lady was escorted by Bran and Rickon, Theon's plan went with them; he, himself, was planning to escort Lyra. It seemed that Jon did too considering that the noble bastard had the same look on his face. Spotting Ashara Dayne, who was waiting to file in with the rest of the handmaidens, Theon strode over to her and asked if she'd like to take his arm. The pretty dornish handmaiden gave him an obliging smile before taking his arm.
"I've got my lady, where's yours?" Theon teased a lone Jon Snow as he passed him. At the mention of Ashara being called a "lady", the blonde flashed the handsome Theon as pretty smile before blushing and looking ahead as they entered the castle.
As Jaime walked passed a horse in the village of Winterfell, he suddenly heard cries of ecstasy from a structure that was just ahead of him. Figuring that Tyrion was likely in the brothel, he set off towards his brother.
Jaime's suspicions were confirmed when the owner of the brothel refused to either confirm or deny Tyrion's patronage. Though Jaime found it funny that Tyrion was spurning his required presence during the King and the court's arrival to the castle, Cersei had noticed the looks Lyra and himself were exchanging; thus, Jaime knew that Cersei wasn't going to tolerate it if he couldn't get Tyrion out of the brothel in time for the feast.
Running out of patience, Jaime needed to speak with Tyrion, and the brothel owner wasn't telling him where his brother was. Much to Jaime's chagrin, he had to buy the rest of the whores for his brother before being allowed to see him.
Finally being led to a room with a door so short, Jaime had to duck in order to get through its frame. The rest of the whores waiting outside for his signal.
Catching a red-headed whore already beginning to fuck Tyrion, Jaime told her not to get up; he didn't want to interrupt, and he didn't care to see his grown brother's cock either. Irritated, Tyrion asked Jaime if he knew the meaning of a closed door in a whore house; which Jaime had no doubt his little brother needed to teach him the etiquette of behavior in brothels. Closing the door behind him, Jaime told Tyrion as much before pouring himself some horrible tasting but wonderfully numbing ale.
Trying to persuade his little brother to come to the castle immediately, it didn't take long for Jaime to realize that Tyrion was digging his heels in about fucking every whore in Winterfell before they left. Relenting, Jaime simply told Tyrion that Cersei "craved his attention", meaning that their sister was finding his absence to be rude, and to be at the castle for the feast by sundown.
"Don't leave me alone with these people," Jaime tried not to sound as if he were begging Tyrion.
Tyrion though, hearing the beg in his brother's voice, looked at him more carefully before speaking; "What is brother? You look as if you've seen a ghost, and a rather beautiful one at that judging by the slight redness you're currently trying to stop from creeping onto your face." Pushing Roz off so he could speak with his brother, Tyrion jokingly added, "Tell me, the ghost you're pre-occupied with, is she a blonde or a brunette?"
Feeling the ale lower his inhibitions, Jaime responded; "Lady Lyra Stark is among the Starks as well." Jaime couldn't decide whether he was happy or terrified to see the future Lady of Winterfell in all of her dornish glory.
"Brandon Stark and Meria Martell's only child? Makes sense that she's here," Tyrion mused. "She is going to marry Robb Stark in only a matter of months after all," he added. "Why? are you afraid of a girl?" Tyrion half jokingly asked.
"Fear is the wrong word," Jaime responded, though he isn't sure which one was. He supposed he was afraid of seeing Lyra Stark, but her presence and the rumors he'd heard had also piqued his curiosity; which he was certain was going to force him to endure an earful from Cersei later. His twin had most definitely been displeased at the long gaze he'd held with Lyra Stark earlier. Changing the subject, Jaime went to the door to get the rest of the girls. As all five of the unbooked whores filed in excitedly, Jaime smiled, telling Tyrion that those five "tumbles" were on him.
"See you at sundown," Jaime laughed as he left.
"Close the door!" A muffled voice said at Jaime's back
Author's Note: Sorry if this chapter was boring, but it's mostly meant as a set up for the next. Btw, I know that wolves don't have blue or grey eyes when they're four to six weeks old; if they do, then they change by this time, which is why Shadow now has green eyes instead of grey.
Next: The Feating of King Robert, a small lemon, and Lyra and Jaime finally interact.