Caree imagined breaking her fast beside her family could be quite enjoyable – had her family not included her sister. Unfortunately, it did, and even with Myrcella in between them, and the warm sun spilling graciously across the table, the chill of Cersei's presence prickled at Caree's skin, colder than any Northern breeze she had felt so far.
"There are only men at the wall," Myrcella was saying. "You'll be the only woman for miles and miles."
"I can think of worse fates." Caree glanced across the spread, looking for appreciation – and warmth – from Jaime, but he responded with a dry look. She sighed. Where was Tyrion? He appreciated her humor, and anyway, the morning room of the Guest House was far too large for three adults and two children, and Tyrion had quite the way of filling up a room.
Myrcella tore her bread into pieces, not bothering to hide her gloom. "I wish I could go to the Wall."
"No, my love." Cersei regarded Caree over her daughter's head. "Proper ladies do not waste their time on such pointless endeavors."
Caree grinned wryly into her wine cup. They were not even through breakfast, and she had already earned a fresh bout of her sister's disapproval. But, after today, Caree and Cersei would not meet for months – perhaps the queen was trying to squeeze in as much blatant dislike as she could before they went their separate ways.
"Bread!"
Tyrion had entered the room. He made his way to his family, calling out his order to no servant in particular. "And some of those little fish . . . and a mug of dark beer to wash it down!" He climbed the platform to the table and added, "And bacon – burnt black," as he took hold of Tommen and made a show of moving him over on the bench, grunting and groaning. The boy giggled, and Tyrion sat in the space he had created, grinning back at his nephew.
"Little brother," Jaime said.
"Beloved siblings." He reached past Tommen to grab a platter with a single strip of meat left on it. Caree smiled. Tyrion had no problem being patient, but why bother when there was no need?
Myrcella let the remaining chunk of bread fall to her plate. "Is Bran going to die?" she asked her uncle. At ten years old, she had already arrived at the conclusion that if anyone in her family knew what was happening around them, it was Tyrion.
"Apparently not," the dwarf answered, his mouth full, and he met Caree's eyes. She gave a little nod. She had already heard the same report from Ren Balter the night before. But it was news to Myrcella and the girl grinned ear-to-ear. Her mother, however, remained stoic.
"What do you mean?" she asked as Caree took a bite of bacon.
"Maester says the boy may live."
Caree's eyes slid back up to Tyrion, whose eyes were on Cersei, whose eyes were on Jaime. Jaime looked back at his twin. Discomfort twisted its way through Caree. Something was off. But she could not put her finger on what. "It's no mercy letting a child linger in such pain," said her sister.
"What are you suggesting they do?" Caree resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Press a pillow over his head until he stops struggling? And anyway, you don't know he's in any great pain."
"He fell from a window," Cersei said deliberately, not sparing her sister a glance. "I'm venturing a guess."
"Only the gods know anything for certain," Tyrion interrupted. "All the rest of us can do is pray." Neither sister replied. Caree dropped her eyes to the half-eaten meal she no longer had an appetite for and shortly after heard Tyrion continue, "The charms of the North seem entirely lost on you," and knew it was not she he was addressing.
"I still can't believe you're going," Cersei said. No one had to ask where. "Caree is an imprudent child, but you should know better. It's ridiculous, even for you."
"I would like to point out that I am not a child," Caree said, taking a page from Myrcella's book and ripping a piece of bacon in two, "while allowing that the other half of that accusation is debatable."
Jaime's lips twitched, but her other two siblings were too busy eyeing one another. "Come, Cersei, where's your sense of wonder?" Tyrion demanded. "The greatest structure ever built! The intrepid men of the Night's Watch!"
Jon Snow among them – almost.
Tyrion turned to Tommen. "The wintry abode of the White Walkers . . ." he growled, hands coming out in mock menace, and Tommen laughed and squirmed away. Cersei's children loved Tyrion a remarkable amount more than Cersei did.
"Tell me you're not thinking of taking the black." Jaime propped his boot on Tyrion's seat.
"And go celibate?" Tyrion feigned shock. "The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock! No, I just want to stand on top of the Wall and piss off the edge of the world."
"That part of things is going to prove very difficult for me," Caree quipped.
Myrcella and Tommen were in a fit of giggles by then, and the queen stood. "Children don't need to hear such filth. Come." She swept out of the room, the two youngest Baratheons at her heels, biting back their smiles.
"Such a charmer, our sister," Caree said when they were gone.
"Caree," warned Jaime, only half in jest, "be nice."
Caree frowned at him. "She started it." She pushed away her plate and rose herself. "She always starts it. I'm going to go finish packing."
"Keep it light," Tyrion called after her. "And if you happen to own a gown with a back, do bring it."
Ren Balter was on guard when she arrived at her bedchamber. He seemed to sprout a couple of inches taller upon seeing her approach. "My lady," he said, almost self-importantly. "I would like to say –"
"Please don't, Ren." Caree opened her door.
She had thrown him. "My – my lady –"
Gods, she hated it when they did this. She should have known better than to use the same man more than once, convenience be damned. "Ren," she told the ceiling, "I doubt anyone will come to attack me now. Please, go. Do whatever it is your type does when you aren't protecting my type. But first, please find someone to carry down the bags I'm not taking to the Wall." She closed the door, and that was the end of her relationship with Ren Balter.
The courtyard was a mess. Not only were Caree and Jon and Tyrion headed north with Benjen Stark, but the king's party was going south to King's Landing, and they were to be accompanied by Lord Stark – he had accepted the king's request to be the new Hand – as well as a good portion of the Stark household guard. Caree made her way through the shifting crowd, envisioning the sweet isolation she hoped to find at the Wall, and when she finally reached the entryway of the stables she nearly marched past her mare, saddled and tethered to a pole. She halted and turned so fast her braid smacked her arm. Robb Stark stood at the horse's side, looking twice his size in a fur-lined cloak. He must have been shaved for the arrival of the queen, for a beard now shadowed his face and aged him a few years. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wanted to have a look at her before you left. One of the stable boys told me she's the most beautiful horse he's ever seen. I think he had it right."
Caree had brought the mare, Willow, to the capital from Casterly Rock. She had a shimmering dark coat, strong legs, and clear, bright eyes, but Caree had seen horses far more beautiful, horses that were such perfect images of power and grace that they had made her want to cry. But she thanked Robb anyway. Then she did not know what more to say. She had not spoken to him since that night in the godswood, had in fact gone to great lengths to avoid him, keeping camp in the library for the grand majority of her stay following the incident. But there was no avoiding him now. And she would not show fear, not of any kind. She cleared her throat. "I'll do my best to watch over Jon, during my stay at the Wall. I'll keep him out of trouble."
Robb smiled ruefully. "I worry more for you than Jon."
She tried to smile back, even as their mutual discomfort thickened the air between them. "Will you be sure to send a raven to me . . . when Bran wakes?"
"We'll send word to Jon at the Wall."
Caree nodded, and the pair stood in silence for too long before she began strapping her bag onto the saddle. "I was happy to have seen you again, Robb."
She had not intended for it sound like a dismissal, but it did. Robb hesitated. "Have a safe journey, Caree," he said before too long, and he walked away. Caree let her head drop against the horse. She was already drained. How was she going to make it all the way to the Wall?
Then she heard, "Will you stop at Winterfell again on your way back to King's Landing?" She lifted her head and followed the voice. Robb had stopped a few paces away and now awaited an answer.
"I don't know," she said.
He considered that. "You would be welcome if you did."
"Would I?"
"Of course." He turned and faded into the crowd before she could say another word. She watched him go, thinking that if they did not stop on their return trip, this could be the last time she saw him for years to come.
"I thought I said you were too pretty for him?" Jaime had appeared next to her, looking all the part in his white cloak of the Kingsguard. Caree pulled her eyes from Robb.
"We were just saying goodbye. We're still friends, or . . . something." The courtyard was slowly organizing itself. Caree could see the king now, standing with Lord Stark and watching their people attempt to blend. He was laughing about something. Caree knew Jaime and Cersei well enough to know that neither of them held Robert in high regard, and her father certainly considered him a fool, but Caree had to admire the man's sense of humor. In fact, as a creature with a tendency towards cynicism, she envied it. "You should go to the front," she told Jaime. "Guard the king, and whatnot."
"I care more for you than I do the king." Then he gave her a look that told her she would not like what he said next. "Do you really intend to go through with this foolishness?"
The statement came from nowhere, and perhaps that was why it hurt more than it should have. That, or because it came from him. "You sound like Cersei."
"Caree, the Wall is no place for a woman. You know what kind of men they send up there. You also know Father would forbid you to take another step north from here. When he hears of this, he'll be furious, with you and me both."
"If you thought I shouldn't go," she said stiffly, "why didn't you speak earlier?"
"Because in the past, little sister, you've proven to have a penchant for throwing fits when you don't get your way." He sighed and rested an arm on her horse. "I was hoping you would change your mind on your own."
"Then perhaps you do not know me as well as you think." A lump had formed in her throat. Is this truly how he thought of her? As a silly girl, prone to stomping her foot when life did not suit her? She tightened the rope holding her bag to the saddle so she would not have to look at Jaime anymore. But she could not keep him from leaning down to her. He spoke again, his voice gentler now.
"I know you well enough to know that you have an older brother who would very much prefer it if you were not harmed," he said.
Caree stared at her hands before whipping her head to Jaime and giving him the stare instead. "And is my older brother ordering me not to go?"
There was a side of Jaime Lannister that, as Caree had learned over the years, he revealed only to a handful of people. She was one of the privileged few and he was revealing it to her now, in the softness of his face, the nearly sad look in the eyes they shared. It made it more difficult to be angry, because she knew his resistance stemmed from concern, and she loved him for that. But if he ordered her not to go, they would clash like they never had before, and she did not think she would handle that well.
"He's ordering you to be very careful," Jaime finally answered, and Caree felt a knot loosen inside of her. She offered a crooked smile.
"Then perhaps I'll consider obeying."
His arm hooked her neck and pulled her to him. The emotion she had been fighting strengthened, fought back, and threatened to spill over as she wrapped her arms around Jaime's neck. Caree loved her father, she would die for Myrcella and Tommen, and Tyrion was dear enough to her, but Jaime was Jaime. And, although she had spent half of her life away from him, she had spent none of it so far away as the Wall. Such a massive distance scared her in a way she had not been aware of, not until now, with this moment upon them.
When they parted, she painted that crooked smile on her face again, and if Jaime could tell it was false, he said nothing of it. He only took her chin, like he had when she was little and not listening, and trapped her eyes with his. "Now promise me. Promise me you'll be careful."
"I promise."
He lifted her onto her horse as if she weighed nothing. Fear's icy fingers were now wrapped firmly around Caree's heart. "I'll see you soon," she said, more as a reassurance to herself than a promise to Jaime. His hand covered hers for a moment, and then was gone.
Later, with Winterfell in the distance and the kingsroad forcing a choice of north or south, Caree dug her heels into her mare and rode ahead of Jon Snow and his uncle, ahead of Tyrion and their two Lannister men, and she did it without looking back at any of them, or at the King's procession, or at Winterfell. When a difficult task presented itself, she found it was better to accomplish it quickly. And this way, the wind dried her tears before they could fall from her eyes.