The Collared Wife
by Crippled-Canary
Chapter 6: Old women's wisdom
Sansa was clutching at her arm as they walked through the gardens. It had been a few days since she had been released from the fine room that was Varys' infirmary.
Her feet healed and the cuts on her fingers slowly knitted themselves together. The clear air of the garden was doing wonders to her pounding head. The king hadn't beaten her for a week. It was a strange feeling to be spared the pain of Ser Meryn's hand or switch. She assumed her recent trip to Varys' healer made the king afraid his plaything would die and he wouldn't be able to inflict pain on her anymore.
Lynette and Sansa quietly walked through the gardens, followed by the knights appointed to 'protect' them. Ever since the incident on the Wall of Traitors, there were four guards in Lannister colors that followed Lynette wherever she went. She liked to assume that it was caring.
To the capacity of Tywin Lannister, anyway.
She had yet to tell her sister that she was marrying him. She had told her sister she would be marrying a Lannister but hadn't specified which Lannister. Lynette knew that the moment she told her sister of the development, that she would cry and ask her not to give herself to the man.
Lynette, of House Stark, had made her choice.
It was better to marry a man of such power on some of your own terms, than marry him by force. Sure, she hadn't known she would marry the Old Lion when she went to him with her proposal that night, but it was her idea, and that was enough to soothe her.
"Have you a dress to wear to my wedding, Sansa?"
The younger Stark smiled and looked at her sister with love in her eyes, before she answered with the excitement any young woman had over a new dress, "Yes, Linnie. It's lovely. But I'm sure you will outshine every one of the people there. You are the bride, after all."
It made Lynette uneasy to hear her sister's clear envy. Did Sansa really think that Lynette would abandon her to the mad little idiot who sat on the Iron Throne? Did she not know of the pains that Lynette endured to keep her sister alive?
Shaking her head to clear it, she smiled when they approached Lady Olenna Redwyne's pavilion. She stopped her sister, turned to the guards behind her and spoke to the one with the blue eyes. His name, she found out, was Rogoff. He was the one who dragged her from the edge of the walls.
"Rogoff take my sister back to the Keep. Deliver her to her room, please. I must speak with the Lady Olenna."
He nodded his head respectively and made motion for Sansa to accompany him. He smiled sweetly at the young woman and marched her back to the Keep, regaling her with tales of wars and fair knights with white hair, his voice smoother than silk.
Lynette straightened her gown and grimly approached the Queen of Thornes. It was a strange enough thing to meet a woman as well-learned and outspoken as Olenna Redwyne, and she had a reputation that preceded her. She was a sharp woman with a mind for strategy. Shrewd, strong willed and rich, there was nothing she couldn't accomplish.
"Lady Olenna," she said, inclined her head and waved to the chair, "a moment of your time?"
The old woman's eyes twinkled, and her smug smile turned pleasant when Lynette sat down. The girl reminded her of her younger self. She still had to grow some claws, but for now, had to make do with sharp nails. The wolf sat daintily, folded her hands in her lap and smiled at Olenna.
"Hello, dear girl. I heard of your grievance. I trust you are well?"
Nodding, Lynette spoke quietly, "Yes, Lady Olenna. I am well. May I trouble you for some advice?"
That made the old woman sit straighter in her chair, her eyes lighting with mischief. She smirked lewdly at Lynette, "Would that advice have anything to do with Lord Tywin?"
Blush stained Lynette's pale cheeks despite her wishes to remain stoic. Her hands scuttled over her skirts. The old Queen raised herself on shaky limbs before standing up and pulling Lynette along with her, back through the quiet strength of the gardens. Growing strong. Such peaceful words. And as Lady Olenna put it, a horrible bore.
They walked for a time before either spoke. Lynette had Lady Olenna by the arm, to support the woman as they walked slowly through the garden.
"I assume you want to know how to prepare yourself for your wedding night then?"
Lynette blushed again. Olenna was forward and nonchalant, smug and mischievous. It was refreshing, but as answer, Lynette could only squeeze the Lady's arm because she couldn't voice her nerves. Olenna patted her hand firmly before she sat the girl down on a bench far from the epicenter of the garden in a remote part thereof beside the Godswood.
"Well, I'll have you know, that in his prime, Tywin Lannister was a roaring beast of a lover. Before his wife died, she used to regale me with tales of the wonders of the Lion of Lannister's tongue," she chuckled at Lynette's red cheeks and smiled at her kindly, "He won't hurt you, little love. You might even enjoy him. I don't know if he would trump you previous gentleme- "
Lynette stuttered out a shocked refusal, "No, Lady Olenna, I have never… I am a maid."
The Queen of Thorns stopped suddenly and made a face, one of surprise and disbelief, before she tutted, "How old are you? Eighteen? Still a maid? Good heavens, girl, however did you manage it?"
Lynette couldn't help her embarrassment at the Lady's forwardness, but somehow made herself look her in the eye, before she said, "I never had cause to, Lady Olenna."
A kindness settled over the old woman and she sat down beside Lynette to take both the girl's hands in her own. Her palms were soft and wrinkled, but the comfort they gifted her was delightful. She smiled slowly and touched the Stark's cheek wistfully. There was a mist that appeared in the Lady's eyes before she blinked and it was gone.
"Now listen to me, Lynette, and listen well. Tywin Lannister is a hard man, he has endured much for the sake of his family. The loss of his wife made him into the man you see today. He loved Joanna Lannister like she was his reason for existence. Try to understand that being with you, lying with you, will make him miss her. I don't normally entertain the heartbroken, but Tywin will respect you in the very least if you stay true to yourself."
Lynette bowed her head to take a shaky breath in, "One can only hope, Lady Olenna. I am not afraid of him, I am just afraid of the unknown." She squeezed the woman's hands and whispered brokenly, "Forgive me, Lady Olenna. I know you and he both hate tears."
She nodded her head, but spoke soothingly, "You want your father to give you away and your mother to talk to you about this."
Lynette met her dark eyes, swallowed the lump in her throat and gave the woman a sad smile, "We all want a lot of things we can't have, Lady Olenna. I thank you for your time."
Lynette floated out of the gardens to the library, where she immersed herself in a book of Aegon and his dragon, The Dread.
Time floated away, before the door was banged open and someone called her name, "Lady Stark!"
It was Ser Meryn Trant.
Lynette knew better than to try and hide from him, so she stood up and went to the Kingsguard. She was scared, but knew that she should not resist, for Sansa's sake.
"The King summons you to the Throne Room, wolf-bitch."
When she finally returned to her chambers that night, her body bruised and still reeling from mistreatment, she knew that whatever reprieve she had been granted because of her injury was now over. The King had Ser Meryn beat the backs of her legs with a reed because she refused to say, "My father is a traitor."
When she got to her room, her guards supporting her and Rogoff helping her into her bathing chamber. He almost carried her in, her legs unable to fully support her weight without help. He called for a maid, and a hot bath before he left with a soft smile and a promise to protect her door.
Her sleep was fitful.
Author's note:
Thank you for reading this far!