Forgive My Sins | Chapter Five | (The Kingsroad)
In the weeks that followed Brans fall, things felt grey and muted. Dull. Time was passing, but it seemed as though everyone was going through the motions of everyday, just waiting. Waiting for Bran to wake, waiting for the wolves to stop howling, waiting for the world to right again. Nothing felt as it was supposed to for Sybel.
Her mother was absent from the day-to-day activities of their home, never leaving Bran's bedside if she could help it. Baby Rickon was constantly underfoot, just as uncertain and searching as the rest of them. Sybel really didn't know what she should do, so she did the only thing that there really was to do. She soothed Rickon, she settled Arya and Sansa's disagreements, she reminded her father to eat. She sat with Bran and told him stories. She pushed her mother to sleep, if only for a couple of restless hours. She consulted with the cooks and maids.
She kept herself busy and in doing so, she did all of the things she could to stay out of her own head.
She was so focused on her family that she realized much later that she had also never done a better job of ignoring Jaime Lannister. She hadn't noticed any staring, and in fact, she didn't even know if he was anymore. But she pushed that further from her mind and kept on with the business of helping her mother run the household. She did not need that sense of guilt on her too, not when they were all only just staying afloat.
But her mind whirled anyway, already on that track. What if she wasn't so caught up in her head with thoughts of Jaime Lannister that she saw Bran climbing and told him to come down? What if she hadn't been so foolishly, selfishly unaware of those around her who didn't have emerald green eyes? What if…?
She pushed the thoughts back again. And as she felt the sinking, hot feeling grow in her chest, she realized that it was shame. Shame for failing her sisterly duty to protect her brothers and sisters. Shame for being one of those fanciful, mindless girls thinking of nothing other than…the attentions of the opposite sex. Shame for thinking nothing bad could ever possibly happen to them.
It was not a familiar feeling for Sybel. She had been embarrassed before, but never had she felt that definite tinge of guilt the way she did now. Even though she knew deep down that it was not her fault, that she had not caused Bran to slip and fall, she still couldn't help the sense of blame she placed on herself and the tormenting what-ifs that accompanied it.
She found it utterly overwhelming. And when she made it to her bed at the end of her day, always at least one of her siblings curled into her side while her hand stroked their hair soothingly, she felt it bubble up inside her and spill out in quiet tears.
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The reality of the world continuing on hit her rather brutally one morning, as she found Jon with the blacksmith. Arnye was a weathered and wrinkled man of solid stock, who had spoken only a few words in total in his life that Sybel was aware of, and who best communicated through meaningful looks. He and Jon stood together admiring a small sword as Sybel passed, strolling slowly and with no real purpose other than to take a break in the crisp morning air and soothe herself.
Jon smiled somberly at her questioning stare, and easily allowed her to wrap her arms around him and rest her head on his chest, seeking comfort. He had watched her care for everyone the last few days, that it was the least he could do in offering her a simple gesture of support in return. "It is a going away gift for Arya, for when we leave tomorrow."
She joined Jon's smile, head tilted up to see the wisps of a beard creeping back onto his face. She didn't think there was a more perfect gift for her littlest wild sister. Unfortunately for the rest of them, Sybel could see that no future gifts would ever compare to this for Arya. His words settled properly into place in her mind then and she frowned, leaning her head backwards to see his face properly. "Who is leaving?"
Jon just looked confused. "We are heading out for the Wall. And you for Kingslanding"
There was a long pause as this churned in her mind, over and over, and an unsettled, roiling feeling in her guts made itself known to her. She knew this; had heard this being spoken about—not that she'd been able to take in a lot of it—but it hadn't occurred to her that this was happening now.
But of course it was happening now—their Septa was making them pack, her home busy with packing and readying themselves. Sybel had seen it all and knew what it meant, but a very large part of her didn't actually think that day would arrive; didn't actually think anyone would go anywhere. Not when Bran was… And surely, now was not the time to be leaving their family. Surely the world could not keep moving on quite so quickly.
Her chest felt tight because it clearly was. And now, standing in front of Jon, she suddenly felt like she had no time to prepare herself or come to terms with it, despite it being discussed for the last month. She suddenly felt her heart being pulled in different directions.
She slowly pulled away from him, immediately missing his familiar warmth, and then, eventually, the only thing Sybel could manage to say was, "You're really leaving?"
She did regret it as soon as the words were out of her mouth, especially when Jon winced, his eyes guilty and pained like she had sliced him with a knife, his arms falling limply to his sides. But she had never felt as completely unsteady as she had in the last few days, or so confused by the easy way everything continued to move forward when she just wanted things to go back.
The hurt in her voice cut at him enough that no knife was necessary. "Don't Sybel. Don't say it like that. I'm not - "
"But you're leaving Winterfell…and taking the Black. You'll say goodbye and then you'll be gone, and I'll barely see you, just like Uncle Benjy. By the gods, how is that not leaving?" That overwhelming, unanchored feeling intensified. At first, she was processing it slowly in her mind, but then she grew angry, the tightness in her chest a burn, her throat hot. Was she really the only one feeling stuck in this? The only one experiencing the need for everything to stay the same until it was fixed?
Everything would be different with Jon gone. But then, she supposed, she also would be leaving soon too, with her sisters and father, and everything would be different regardless of where Jon was. It kept replaying in her mind—she just didn't think they would actually leave before Bran woke and things were better.
He tried to make it a joke, reaching for her arms. "You make it out like I'm trying to get away from you all!"
She struggled to find it funny and leant away from him. She didn't think she'd ever been quite so unkind but she also didn't think she'd ever been quite so lost, her mind repeating how everything was changing and it was all so uncertain and what about Bran. "Are you?"
"No! Come on, of course not, Sybel! There is nothing here for me -"
Deep hurt flashed in her smokey eyes and Jon winced again. "We're here. I'm here, Robb is here, Sansa and Arya and Bran and Rickon – we are here!"
She let him pull her to him when she felt the tears in her eyes, and he softly spoke into her hair, firm in his words but gentle and kind. Sybel always took on other's internal world so easily, and always gave everything to try to make it better. And he'd seen her try so very hard to make it better the last few days when everyone else's internal worlds were in chaos. "Tomorrow you'll be off for Kings Landing with your sisters and father too. I can't stay here."
So soon.
She sucked her lips into her mouth, staring at the ground hard and let herself feel the sadness of Jon's loss. She took a deep breath, sniffled, and pulled herself up to her proper height, holding herself like a proper lady. "The Nightswatch better bloody appreciate what they're gaining."
She felt him chuckle. And after she settled herself and let her hurt melt, he efficiently got to the root of her increased emotional distress. "We're not going to lose Bran."
Her lip quivered, throat tight this time, holding onto all the words she couldn't say because if she spoke them aloud, it would suddenly be so real and true. Jon continued to hold her calmly and slowly the tightness wasn't so obstructing anymore. "Maester Luwin said he may never wake. And now we're all leaving, Jon."
"It's something we have to do, Sybel."
She understood that, she really did. She understood her father had to help the King rule the realm, she understood her and her sisters had to charm the court and make advantageous matches, and she understood Jon had to find his place in this world. Her heart twisted for his plight. But she didn't feel ready to leave half her family behind in Winterfell, and she wasn't ready to lose a brother. Her whole life, all she knew was Winterfell. Her family cared for her, loved her, the people knew her. She wasn't ready to leave them all behind, and she wasn't ready for Jon to decide he wanted his own life.
She sighed. "I know I'm being selfish."
He didn't even bother responding to that. "Everything is changing and it's scary."
She looked at him. A wave of loss washed over her again and she didn't think she could be more grateful for her brother. Someone had finally voiced out loud what was going on inside her head, and made it feel like it made sense why she was so lost and confused; sad and stuck. She hugged him again. "Did I ever tell you that you are my most astute brother? Nothing will get past that Wall without you knowing about it."
He half-grinned at her. "I'm glad someone is confident in me."
He still did not see that Sybel thought the world of the men in her family. But then, she had been exposed to possibly the most dutiful, honourable—though sometimes rather vexing—and kind men in the Seven Kingdoms. "I challenge you to find a single person who would disagree."
"That may be easier than you think." He snorted, and so did Arnye, quietly working in the background while the Stark children continued their conversation.
The noise made Sybel think that she had missed something, and she wrapped her coat tighter around her as she crossed her arms in front of her. "What has happened?"
He shook his head dismissively. "It is nothing, Sybel."
"Tell me," she demanded. "You know I do not like secrets."
He laughed. "Of course you don't—you tell everyone everything, as though everyone can be trusted with everything. No one else shares as genuinely—or sometimes as without thought—as you." He thought about it for a second. "It's a wonder someone hasn't taken advantage of that yet, now that I think about it."
He could think of many numbers of people who could do just that, but thankfully he couldn't think of a single person who would. Not to Sybel, at least. Surprisingly, her honesty and innocence had been met with the same. Jon knew it did not work like that in the rest of the world. But Winterfell had been a safe little bubble for Sybel and thinking about her leaving it gave him pause for concern.
It was a worry for all the men in their family.
"What a clever way of changing the topic of our conversation away from my question." She said pointedly, hands moving to her hips.
His lips quirked. "It is nothing. Ser Jaime Lannister found me before and made it pretty clear he thought the whole thing was ridiculous."
"What did he say?" She said, much quicker than she thought she should've—and perhaps a touch too interested.
"Nothing, really… he was just… mocking." He said it like he had a bad taste in his mouth.
It was one thing for Jaime to direct that at her, but another to direct it at her sweet, noble brother. Jon tolerated a lot of nonsense from a lot of people and it irritated her that now Jaime had added himself to that list.
"You know what?" Sybel started, continuing on without giving her brother a chance to respond to her question. A fierce sort of protectiveness warmed her chest. "When I see that particular ser next, I will tell him how idiotic he is to suggest that you would not be a great Nightswatchman."
He shook his head. "Don't get involved, Sybel. Just leave it be."
She sighed before hugging him again, taking care to commit this hug to memory. This felt like a goodbye embrace. She squeezed tight and he did too. "I will miss you."
"I will miss you too."
"I'll write you."
"You had better."
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She was walking the quiet hallways towards the kitchens, her steps echoing around her. Additional sets of echoing joined hers and she looked up to see ser Jaime Lannister, dressed in his flawless white Kingsguard robes, walking towards her with a group of other guardsmen. One of the guardsmen was eating an apple and they all had the flush of men who had just exerted themselves, probably in training, and were re-energising themselves.
It felt like it had been months since she had last seen him and she was again struck by how beautiful he was. She had never met someone so gold and shining. The guardsmen smiled at her, some in a rather cheeky way, but his voice rose above their light chatter in a way that forced all attention to them. And just like that, it felt again like no time had passed and it was only yesterday that he was confusing and taunting her.
"Lady Stark," he said politely, bending in a half-bow that Sybel couldn't quite tell was mocking. "You seem in a hurry. Best not detain you from undoubtedly important business."
Sybel was headed for the kitchens to confirm with their cook that the necessary provisions for the travel to Kingslanding had indeed been packed. Her conversation with Jon had pushed her back into reality enough that she didn't shy away from her mother when she set the task for Sybel. And the sunken look on her mother's face only set her to purpose more; she could do nothing for Bran but she could do something for her mother, father and siblings. Even Inferno was doing her bit; rarely leaving Bran's side, right there with Summer, waiting for her pack to heal. It comforted Sybel somewhat knowing Inferno was there.
She frowned at the Lannister knight. It did feel rather important, but when he teased her like that, she couldn't help but feel a bit silly for being in such a rush. But then, it actually was rather important that they had enough provisions for the month-long journey, and she hated that he could make her second-guess herself like that. So easily and without thought.
She didn't think he realized the extent of the havoc he created in her.
She squinted her eyes at him as she realized he seemed to almost be showing off in how much he could tread the line between politely charming and rudely offensive. How well he could play the part of thoughtful, chivalrous knight. The other men were younger and they jostled each other at the prowess of their leader, all silly from the rush that physical exertion brings. All silly from being fresh and male, to begin with.
Sybel did not like the showmanship and did not appreciate the audience Jaime allowed. She did not appreciate being made to feel so young and foolish in front of so many. She gestured at the others, "It is good to know that you don't reserve your impressive wit solely for me, good ser."
His lips quirked up. Of course they did, Sybel thought. Her retort made it even more of a game for him. The other knights jostled each other again, and when Sybel made to leave, Jaime gestured for the guardsmen to go on without him and they begrudgingly left them standing, alone, in the hallway.
Sybel refused to be the one to speak and refused to apologise for her words, as much as her good breeding told her she should. He picked up her refusal to speak and broke the silence, deliberately unperturbed and conversational. As though they were two close friends.
"I heard that you and your sisters are to join us in returning to Kingslanding. In search of marriage prospects, I would presume." He looked as though the notion bothered him—likely anything smacking of propriety was bothersome to him.
"That is certainly the last thing on my mind." She almost thought she saw what could've been a hint of guilt in his features, though it was gone so quick she could've imagined it. He seemed to be trying to coax a response from her and she didn't feel like playing into that for him today. "I was hoping to speak to you alone, though, Ser Jaime, if you have a moment."
Jaime was loath to admit that he was quickly finding he had all the time in the world when it came to this particular Stark. He would not pass an opportunity to provoke her out of her trained manners. "Oh?"
"Yes. I heard that you were rather unkind to my brother earlier today, and I wanted to know if it was true." She did not think her brother was lying. She was quite certain Jaime had been mocking and offending. She wasn't sure why she was asking him though, or what she was hoping to get out of it. She thought perhaps she just needed someone to direct her frustration at—someone she could be frustrated at without feeling guilty later. Particularly, as he seemed to enjoy it so.
A victimless crime.
He looked confused. "You may have to narrow it down for me, my Lady. I say a lot of unkind things to a lot of people. Which brother do you refer to?"
Her guts seemed to flip around inside her when he said my lady. She could only muster his name in response. "Jon."
"Ah yes, going to take the black, isn't he?"
She nodded. "He is. He will make a great Nightswatchman."
"He is an idiot."
Her mouth dropped open in an 'O' of surprise. Maybe she thought he would try to deny it, but she should've realized by now he didn't seem to care much about what others thought of him. "You think my brother an idiot?"
"For taking the black. What a pointless vow. I meant what I said to him."
He was so matter-of-fact that it really threw Sybel. He didn't even have the good sense to seem embarrassed.
"So you were rude then."
"I was honest." He said simply, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.
"You know people can speak truths without being mocking," she snapped. He was so unconcerned with his own behaviour, it irritated her. If there was one thing Sybel could never understand, it was unkindness—not when it took so little and gave so much to be kind in the first place.
"But that would suggest I care." He squinted at her like he thought she was the one not understanding, so he added on, "which I don't."
Sybel couldn't believe his words—not really. Not when he stood before her in a very physical reminder of his own vow to service—his Kingsguard robes. He sprouted off about not caring but it was so at odds with himself that she just felt her frustration grow. "But he will be swearing an oath to protect and serve…to keep the Kingdoms safe…how—"
He cut her off by actually rolling his eyes. "Oh yes, I think they do a marvelous job of keeping us all very very safe."
Sybel really understood why children had tantrums—it was a palpable feeling in her chest that seemed like it just needed to burst out, no direction, just feeling. She was so incredulous that she couldn't find any words for a minute. She just stared at him, almost dumbstruck by the fact that he could be so completely inconsistent.
Jon was a bastard—no lands, no titles, no warm home without their father there to ward off their mother. Jon had very little options in life, and the Wall gave him the best opportunity for purpose and brotherhood and honour. And Jaime stood there mocking it. Mocking it when he himself had taken a similar vow. For all he implied about the Nightswatch not protecting anyone, it was almost hilarious he couldn't see his own hypocrisy. He stood outside a door all day while the King ate and drank and fucked about, then he followed the King when he finally left his chambers to hunt or visit the crypts before being told to fuck off. Sybel had seen it—everyone had seen it. He was doing about as much protecting as what he thought the Nightswatch did.
She pointed her finger at him the way mothers do when they scold their naughty children, and she angrily told him exactly that. "You, Jaime Lannister, are the idiot."
He just raised an eyebrow at her, not moving an inch. She didn't know if it was in challenge or in warning. But she really didn't care either way.
"You stand there in your privileged white knights robes but you're nothing more than a…glorified nursing maid."
"Glorified nursing maid?" He repeated back, now seeming just as infuriated, pushing himself off the wall. It gave her a sense of pleasure to get that reaction from him, and later she might examine this understanding she now had of why he provoked and mocked. "What a ferocious pup you are."
He tried to laugh at her, but she could see she'd hit a sore spot by the tightening of the corners of his mouth, the hardening of his eyes. He practically turned to marble right before her and she realized here it was; a vulnerable spot; a chink in his otherwise perfect armour.
"And you hate it, don't you?" She was guessing, but when he stayed statue-like, she knew she was on the right track. "So you just mock everyone else doing something more meaningful than you are, to make yourself feel better."
"More meaningful? You can't be serious." There was only a warning at how perilously close she was walking to the truth of it.
She took a step towards him, as though this would help her words hit their mark. "I'm extremely serious. The Nightswatch are lucky to have Jon. I really don't know what the Kingsguard thought when they got you, though."
She could see immediately that she might have gone a touch too far. His eyes flared like green fire and it burned.
"I will have you know," he growled, taking a step towards her. She swallowed a bit hard, her words catching up to her, "that I am one of the best swordsman," another step that made her stumble back into the wall at his proximity to her, but he kept coming, his face crowding hers, arms braced on either side of her head, blocking any easy exit.
"In the whole fucking Seven Kingdoms," he practically spat it at her and if it wasn't already clear she'd gotten carried away in having a target for all of her overwhelming feelings, it was then. She swallowed again, both of them breathing heavy. Sybel could feel his warmth, his breath, even in the cold of Winterfell.
His hard emerald eyes stared into her swirling smoke-filled ones and her mind went curiously empty. He didn't move as she floundered for words, for a reply—for anything, really. The best she could do was faltering nothingness, "…I…uh—"
He was still fuming and she felt her cheeks flush in a rosy hue that matched his. "Not so ferocious now, are you?"
All she could see was green and gold. "You're crowding me."
He didn't look bothered about this and he seemed to have no intention of moving. Instead, he just took a small step closer, seeming almost in spite of what she'd said, until there was barely any space between their bodies. She took a quick breath in and her mouth felt suddenly dry. She'd never been this close to a man that she wasn't related to and it was very different from hugging her brothers. There was a tension to it, like a leather strap being pulled tighter and tighter, about to snap. She didn't know what would happen when their tension snapped. But everything felt warm and foggy to her.
"Jaime…" Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip and pull it into her mouth. His eyes dropped down to watch the movement closely, staring at her mouth. She breathed in three times with him frozen there, her chest rising to almost imperceptibly brush against his chest in a way that made her tight and tingle, her neck blooming heat. When he met her eyes again, he jerked back so quickly Sybel almost thought she'd shoved him, it was such a full-body reaction. She gasped, startled.
A second later, she was alone in the hallway, flushed and red, a foreign throb between her legs, confused by where he'd gone and by her reaction. Perhaps she should have listened to her brother about not getting involved because she was sure now she'd only complicated things for herself.
She didn't know what that was, but it was very different to any of the comparatively distant interactions they'd had up until that point. Her mind puzzled over it and her curious reaction while she continued on to the kitchens, almost in a daze. His closeness felt intoxicating, stronger than any wine she'd tasted, but as the feeling faded and she was able to think more clearly, she had the good sense to turn an even deeper shade of red in her embarrassment.
Thank the Gods they hadn't had an audience. As her mind played it over and over, she groaned out loud. She never agued with anyone, let alone argued with so much heat and tension that it made her forget how to speak. And forget how to act—she shouldn't have allowed him so close, she shouldn't have been able to see the different greens in his eyes. And she certainly shouldn't have been agreeable to the idea of him getting even closer.
A small part of her wondered if that was how intense not-touching felt, imagine what actual touching…
She shook herself out of that thought. That was not a thought she was allowed to have. Gods, imagine the gossip if anyone even suspected she'd entertained any kind of thought of touching Jaime Lannister. Or of him touching her.
She knew neither would serve her any kind of good.
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She'd listened to Arya complain from the time she'd knocked and entered the chaotic room, things and dresses strewn about like she'd had strong winds blow through. Their Septa had found her shortly before and asked Sybel to please deal with her. Sybel had known immediately who she was referring to, because it could only ever be Arya that caused the older woman such frustration. And Sybel could see from the harried look that their Septa was nearing the end of her patience. Sybel had obliged, knowing full well that the Septa never really had a lot of patience for Arya to begin with; she was too rough and headstrong and determined to be a boy. And Arya knew it too.
After a number of frowns and its unfair's while she blew through her room, Sybel calmly and gently following in her wake and lightly tidying it all behind her, she finally settled herself and moved over to her bed to lie down. It was hard to hold all of her angry energy in the face of Sybel's sweetly said reassurances.
"She didn't have to send you, you know," Arya grunted, throwing a ball of twine up in the air before catching it again. "I'm already repacking my things."
Sybel nodded, moving to lie down beside Arya, staring up at the ceiling. "I can see that."
Arya shot her a glare and Sybel laughed. "I will repack my things."
"I know," Sybel said lightly. "And I know you know how to do it properly."
Arya grumbled. "She doesn't think I can do anything properly."
Sybel turned on her side and lightly brushed some of Arya's mused strands away from her face, and she frowned, letting some of her anger seep out. Arya saw the way their Septa doted on Sansa but seemed to only have very little tolerance for Arya. And Sybel saw the way Arya watched Sansa and made comparisons and became so angry. "I can understand why it feels that way sometimes, little duck. She does know, though, she just…doesn't always tell you."
"But she's always so mean." Arya rolled over to face Sybel then, her grey eyes just like Sybel's, just like Jon's. The discerning Stark eyes. "It's like she hates me."
Sybel sighed and pulled Arya close to her. Arya settled against Sybel's chest in the way she allowed when she was worried. Normally it was easy to forget how young Arya actually was because she walked around rough and tough, seeming bigger and braver than someone her age actually would be. But every now and then, she'd let Sybel pull her in close and be reminded that she was small and soft too. "My silly duck, she doesn't hate you, she just doesn't understand you. But we certainly all love you."
Sybel stroked her hair back gently and they laid like that for a little while.
Sybel pulled back enough to be able to see Arya's face and gently said. "Sometimes we can get really angry when we are actually feeling really scared."
"I'm not scared." Arya grunted defensively.
"I am."
Silence. Then, quietly and tentatively, "You are?"
"Of course. I'm scared about Bran and I'm scared about leaving. It's OK to feel that way about things that are scary."
Arya was quiet for a while, listening. Arya didn't always have a lot of tolerance for Sansa, but she did for her oldest sister. Sybel said things that made her think she understood, especially at times when it felt like no one did.
"Maybe," Arya accepted. She thought for a minute and rolled back out of Sybel's embrace, and Sybel took that to mean she'd received all the affection she'd needed then. "But I also think I'm really angry because I have to repack my things. They're only going to get messy again anyway, it's not fair."
Sybel laughed and sat up. "Well complaining isn't going to get us very far. Should we have a look at these things and get started?"
Arya grumbled but complied, and Sybel helped her youngest sister until Jon arrived later with his gift. Sybel recognized how important this goodbye would be for Arya, so she left them alone, brushing over Jon's arm as she left.
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The early morning air was sharp, a light layer of snow falling, as they began their journey to King's Landing, and Sybel felt the weight of her goodbyes on her. Baby Rickon had cried and cried and cried. Robb had been more stoic than she'd ever seen him before, but when she hugged him, he returned it with more pressure than she was expecting, kissing her head and telling her to be careful. And their mother had tried not to cry as she pulled them close and told them to look after their sisters. They promised.
Bran's goodbye had been the hardest. She'd kissed his sweet cheek and whispered forceful pleas to wake soon, promising to tell him all the stories from her travels when he was well again. She'd tried to leave the room, calling Inferno to heel but the wolf had whined, looking between Bran and Sybel. Inferno was the most protective of all the wolves, fiercely so, and Sybel felt her reluctance to leave Bran mirror her own. She hadn't seen much of her direwolf since Bran's fall because she was always hovering near his rooms, and it suddenly felt comforting to leave knowing she was there watching him. So she'd kneeled down and looked her in the eyes, asking her to look over Bran and keep him safe with Summer. She knew Inferno couldn't understand a word she said, but saying the words made it the tiniest bit easier to leave the room, eyes stinging with unshed tears. Inferno whined but stayed put, and Robb promised to look after her as she made her way down to the courtyard where Jory held her saddled mare.
The first few hours were somber and quiet in their trek, while the Southerners seemed to perk up at the prospect of leaving the cold. They made it to their first stop for their midday meal. Arya had disappeared for a while and returned with mud caked on the bottom of her dress. Sansa had asked Arya why she had to be so dirty all the time, and the squabbling began.
"Enough," Sybel said firmly, sending them to get some distance from one another and noting that they still had a whole month of close quarters travel where they would need to get along. Sansa wailed about how it wasn't fair that she had a sister so set on being so awful to her, and Arya complained about how it wasn't fair that she had a sister so boring. But Arya went off in search of anyone else to talk to, and Sansa sat prettily doing her embroidery.
Jory made eye contact with her from where he stood a ways away, having watched the interaction and quick way Sybel had to squash the squabbling before it became fighting, as it had been known to do. Sybel walked over and smiled, "I think it will benefit everyone on this journey if we keep them separated."
Jory grinned back. "It's a good thing we have you to wrangle them into peacefulness, even if they don't want it."
Before long, they were moving again at the slow pace of the swaying Wheelhouse of the Queen. They were a large company making the trek and Sybel found the hours went quickly when there were so many people to talk to. Mostly though, she would spend her time talking to Alyse.
At the end of the first day, though, she realized that while she may be used to her sister's arguing, she was not used to all the riding. Sybel had always been a competent rider but she'd never ridden so continuously for so many hours and she quickly came to dread their month-long trek for all the hours she had ahead of her still. At the end of their days, Sybel would slide down off Faith with stiff movements, the muscles of her thighs sore. Jory was always there to help her and she suspected her father had given him the task of monitoring his daughters because he was never far from her.
It dawned on her by the third day that she was actually travelling the seven kingdoms—something she'd always day-dreamed about but never actually thought she would do. The North she was familiar with – she had visited other Northern lord's castles for parties and the like, but she was now getting further and further South than she had ever been. The land started more lush and wild, as they travelled over stone bridges and past fast running rivers but the further down through the Neck they travelled, the more everything seemed to become more spaced, drier, warmer, more humid. Sybel would shuck off her warm winter coat in the mornings as the sun warmed her more than it ever had before, and she found she had to pick her dresses more carefully lest she layer herself too much and overheat in the sun.
They stopped frequently during their journey for rests and food. Sometimes they would stop because the Queen would command it though no one was really privy to the why of those stops. And every few days they stopped for entire days while the hunting parties went out to gather more meat. On those days, Sybel would take the opportunity for many walks to stretch her sore limbs, stopping to talk with the familiar and not-so-familiar faces. Often, others would join her walks without realizing, so Sybel rarely found much time for her to get too wrapped up inside her own head. This was something she was grateful for.
She was not grateful for all the warmth though, and she was quickly finding that the humidity was even worse. They travelled through bogs where the stench seemed to hang in the air at times, no breeze or harsh wind to push it away. Through the Neck there were no inns for them to stop at in the night, no heartily cooked meals in kitchens and warm hearths for her to become sleepy in front of. Instead they had to set up small tents that her and her sisters shared, and sit around open fires where the gamey meat was cooked. Sybel was too tired to care but Sansa made her displeasure known, often triggering Arya to defend it and argue that she had never had so much fun. When they would change into their nightclothes for bed, Sybel would see new bruises or scrapes on Arya, and Arya would grin and just say adventures in reply to any questions on how she got them.
Sybel slept between her sisters; it was how they'd always slept on the few occasions they had shared a bed. Sybel had always thought she got a good deal because she benefited from a warm body on either side of her. But now she was trying her hardest not to get too close to their warm bodies when the warmth invaded their tent and made her feel almost stifled. She didn't even think it was that warm but the comparison to their home was stark enough for her to notice.
Sybel lasted six nights before she couldn't take it anymore. She tossed and turned between her sisters for what felt like hours. Occasionally she fell into a restless light sleep, only to be easily woken by passing guards or the crack of wood in the fire. Finally, she sat up and climbed quietly out of their bed. She sat for a moment on the edge, looking over the two direwolves on the ground beside the bed and Alyse on the other side of the tent on her own small bed, contemplating what she would do. She found a dressing gown to wrap around her—as much as she was loath to add more layers—and exited their tent. She was immediately met with chilly air and she breathed in deeply, closing her eyes and savouring it. Thank the gods.
"My lady?" Jory's tired voice startled her, and she quickly opened her eyes again to find him standing close by between her small tent and her father's small tent. "Are you well?"
Sybel breathed in deeply again, pulling her gown away from her neck a bit more. "I miss the cold."
Jory chuckled, and she saw the flash of his teeth in a grin while most of his face was in shadows cast by the tents blocking the moon. "I think we all miss the cold. You best go back inside though, you still have a few hours before everyone will be waking as well."
Sybel shook her head. "I'd really like to take a walk, Jory. Just for a short while, if that's alright."
Jory nodded and gestured for the other guardsman Eryk to stay put. "I will accompany you."
Sybel went to tell him that it wasn't necessary as she wouldn't go far, but she realized that their camp was full of people she didn't know, in a place she didn't know, and it was dark. She really ought to be accompanied. "Thank you."
Their steps were quiet in the night and they occasionally passed patrolling guardsmen and dying fires. When a man stumbled by smelling of alcohol, she felt much better having Jory by her side. She moved closer to him, wrapping her hands around his arm as though he were escorting her. Jory never initiated physical contact with Sybel and initially she thought he didn't want to be touched, but when she did on the odd occasion, not able to help herself, he never shied away from it. "I'm sorry to be a bother."
"You're not a bother, my lady," he shook his head, bending his arm to be more accommodating. "I think we're all a little bit restless with this humidity. It should improve when we're out of the Neck."
Sybel breathed a sigh of relief. "I look forward to that then."
They were quite for a while and Jory started to ask her a question at the same time a familiar voice just ahead of them said, "It's very late for you to be out on a stroll."
They paused and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the shadows he was hidden in. Sybel realized they had wandered towards the Royal family's tents. She thought she could see the dark shape of the Wheelhouse further ahead.
"I couldn't sleep, ser Jaime," she said as he stepped forward enough for the moon's silver to catch on his gold. His eyes darted down to Sybel's entwined hands on Jory's arm and he smirked.
Jory's voice was amenable but his eyes were hard as he looked at the Lannister. "My lady, perhaps we should return now."
Sybel started to nod in reply when Jaime cut in, "Could I have a moment of your time, Lady Stark?"
"You can have a moment of her time when it is the day," Jory said firmly, before Sybel could say anything.
Jaime's eyes flicked to him before locking back onto Sybel as he ignored Jory's words. "In private."
Jory made a noise of protest and Sybel reassured him that this was fine. She was curious about what he had to talk to her about and she went red thinking about their last encounter. He likely wanted to talk to her about her behaviour and words, or maybe even to apologise for forgetting himself and crowding so close to her—though she doubted he was the apologizing kind. But either way, she certainly didn't want Jory hearing about that. He would feel duty-bound to report back to her father, and he was the last person she wanted to know about how close she'd been to a man she had no relation to.
Her cooled skin suddenly felt all too flushed again.
"I don't think your Lord father would be happy about this," Jory pressed quietly, turning to look at her and seeming to pretend the Lannister Kingsguard wasn't there. Jory's solid frame felt close and she almost felt tension radiating from his well-muscled form. "We should return to your tent."
She considered him for a moment, looking at his hooded eyes. He was right, her father wouldn't be happy about private conversations at night—there wasn't much proper about it. But the way Jaime was grinning in his smug way made her think that he wasn't above bringing up their last interaction not so privately, just for the reaction of it.
Her embarrassment won out over her sense of good manners.
"It will be alright, Jory."
He pressed his lips together but nevertheless moved backwards enough paces to be out of ear shot but still able to see them. She smiled at him and the tension in his mouth lessened.
Jaime's voice brought her attention right back to him and when she turned she saw he'd moved a bit closer to where she could see him a bit better. She realized that this would also mean he could see her better and she consciously pulled her robe around her more and wondered about the state of her hair—it was wild at the best of times but at night it only seemed more untameable. His eyes dropped to watch her pull the material more fully around her and he grinned at her actions but didn't comment. "You've left your beast in the North, I see."
Sybel blinked. He wanted to talk to her about… her direwolf?
"She…is a creature of the North. Besides, she has a more important job than guarding me all the way South." Sybel shrugged, knowing too well that that would be exactly what Inferno would end up doing.
"If you think you won't need protecting in the south, then you are being more foolish than usual," he snarked, crossing his arms and the movement made him look broad and strong and…male. She reddened even more if possible, because the thought came to her along with flashes of those arms braced close to her, her back pressed into hard wall, tension thick in the small space between their bodies. Had she just imagined that? Had she just been so comically affected because of how young and inexperienced she was? The thoughts flittered through her brain one after the other and she thought maybe her heart was beating a little faster than normal.
When she found her words, they came out more snappish than she intended.
"I'm not foolish." Her eyes flashed. "And I don't need protecting."
She did. She knew she did, but now she was just feeling stubborn.
She would have missed him rolling his eyes were it not for the flickers of green moving in the moonlight. "Forgive me for not believing you while you're out here at night accompanied by a most untrustworthy sort."
His eyes darted over her shoulder at Jory behind her and she choked on a laugh when she realized who he was referring to. She trusted Jory with her life. Her expression spelled how crazy she thought he was being. "Jory is the most trustworthy."
He snorted. "I beg to differ. No man looks at a woman the way he looks at you and has completely innocent thoughts on his mind."
She just stared at him. It puzzled her how insistent he was that Jory thought of her as more than just the daughter of her Lord father. Then again, she supposed, it was a good way to fluster her. "I…" she cleared her throat. "I don't think I have ever met a man as hell-bent on proving he isn't any kind of decent, as you Ser Jaime."
His grin was wicked. "That's because I'm not any kind of decent."
"Bad men don't have to try so hard to prove it." For the first time, he actually looked lost for words. Or at least like he couldn't decide which scathing retort he would use next. So she pressed on quickly, eyeing him up and down and feeling more like she had the upperhand for once in their conversation. Like she was the one probing for something more. Quietly, seriously, she asked, "Why do you act like being decent is a fate worse than death?"
He ignored her question but he looked at her like he thought she was silly for even asking something like that. "I would hardly think your skills at differentiating good from bad are anything to go by."
He had her on the backfoot again. Her lips tightened. "I do just fine, thank you very much."
He deliberately eyed Jory over her shoulder again. "Clearly not."
"Why do you keep insinuating that Jory wants…" She gestured with her hand, unsure how to phrase it.
"To fuck you?" He easily supplied and her blush returned with fervor, and didn't he just love it, eyes missing nothing and lips widening in a smirk.
"Stop it," she snapped. Jaime Lannister was taking far too many liberties with her. "You're being inappropriate."
He moved a step closer, and his eyes flicked over to Jory again as she heard him heavily step forward in response. His eyes were a warning though and she didn't hear any more steps. He lowered his voice at her, inclining his head down like he was telling her a great secret. "I'm doing it because you're not listening."
She was listening, he just wasn't saying anything—anything that actually felt real, anyway. She sighed at him before it occurred to her that she too could change her tactics in their conversation. She could play a more influencing role in this game he pushed them into, rather than passively following him. "You seem awfully concerned about my safety, good ser. This is the second time you've commented on it now. Surely a bad man wouldn't be as concerned as you seem to be."
She pursed her lips to stop a victorious grin when she saw the responding irritation in his eyes. She'd seen how much he hated it when she reverted to her trained superficial pleasantries. He rolled his eyes at her words, much preferring her blushing and frustrated and truthful. But she was getting a little fed up about being the only truthful one.
He realized what she was doing, she knew. So he grimaced like her implication that he was not as bad as he portrayed himself to be disgusted him. "Don't insult me."
"Then don't insult me," she replied curtly. It hit her then how tired she was, all the restless sleep catching up to her now. "I'm tired, Ser Jaime. I think I will retire for the night."
It was exhausting trying to break through the walls he built around himself. And clearly he wasn't going to say anything at all on the topic of their last interaction, so Sybel felt quite safe in it being a secret. And if she thought about it, maybe the fact that he father was now the Hand of the King might mean it wouldn't serve him well to bring it up either. At least, she hoped that was true.
Jory appeared beside her then and she wondered if he sensed how much she wanted to return to her bed. "My Lady? Is everything alright?"
"Everything is fine, Jory," She eyed the Lannister knight before looking back at Jory. Looking at his kind concern, she felt even more certain that Jaime was only trying his best to be goading. "Would you return me to my tent? I've had enough of the night air now."
Jory nodded in an "of course", gesturing for her to turn around and head back in the direction they arrived. As Jory went to follow her, Jaime's hand grabbed onto Jory's in a tight hold and he leant down close to Jory's face in what looked like a warning gesture.
"Remember your place, ser," he said harshly—more genuinely harshly than she'd ever heard from him before. Normally his harsh was mixed with mocking—but this seemed closer to genuine anger than snark. It only served to further confuse Sybel and she was reminded how she was too tried for these kinds of interactions with him. He again moved his face closer in to Jory's ear in what she supposed was meant to be a whisper, but was more a low hiss.
Sybel heard it anyway. Of course she did—he wasn't trying to be subtle. "She's above your station."
Her lips parted at the nerve of him. She was getting more and more fed up with this particular teasing—and she thought then that maybe he did it because he, like her brothers and Theon, had noticed her favour of Jory. She felt silly enough about that now that she didn't need it thrown in her face too. Didn't need a reminder that the few secrets she tried to keep to herself were clearly not so well kept.
Both males seemed to forget she was there as they were locked in a stand-off, both looking like they were coiled and prepared for any action. Jory's eyes became hard as he kept eye contact with Jaime, replying just as low and slow. "She's above yours too"
They seemed to go stiller, if even possible. Sybel almost thought they were waiting for some movement by the other that would justify a physical altercation. They looked…primed for a fight, fuelled by their obvious dislike of the other. Jory bristling with the insult—at Jaime targeting him so unfairly, and Jaime held anger that Jory would face him rather than run away.
Jamie's voice was goading. "You have a soft spot for her."
"Everyone has a soft spot for my lady," Jory retorted. His teeth were clenched.
"My lady," Jaime mocked, "I'm sure you wish she was your lady to—"
Sybel raised her voice at them, in the way she sometimes had to when Arya and Sansa were fighting and just working themselves up more and more. "Enough of this…this…ridiculous posturing. You both ought to know better, you're guardsmen for godssake. Act like it."
They stared at her for a minute and when she shook her head and turned away to go back to her tent, they roughly let go of each other. Jory quickly fell into step beside her and the walk back would've felt more awkward had she been any less tired in her bones and actually able to pay attention to it. When they arrived at the tent flap, he gently touched her elbow and she turned to look at him quizzically. In the last year, she couldn't remember a time when Jory had actually touched her.
"My lady…" He looked like he was searching for the words.
"You don't need to worry, Jory. I don't put much stock in what he says," she reassured.
He shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat. As he brushed his hair back sheepishly and Sybel stared at him, she felt Jaime's words go around and around in her mind. This is exactly what he wanted, she thought. He liked to make her second guess everything. "I… that's good. Goodnight, my lady."
"Goodnight, Jory."
She entered the tent, feeling the warm creep back over her again and she ripped her dressing gown off. Lady and Nymeria raised their heads at the quick movement before settling back down to return to sleep. Their big fluffy chests seemed to rise and fall in quick motions like they were panting and she figured they were struggling with the warmth as well.
Alyse stared at her, giving her a questioning look clearly having heard the brief discussion outside the tent. Sybel looked at her sleeping sisters and shook her head, indicating they would talk later.
She crawled back onto the mattress of furs on the ground and squished between her sisters. This time though, her eyes drooped easily and she fell into a deep sleep.
.
.
.
The Queen invited Sybel to join her in their Wheelhouse for tea one morning when they were finally out of the Neck and about half-way into their journey. The air had cooled back down and the humidity reduced, though it wasn't cold like Winterfell. They had stopped for their hunting party to gather more meat for their next few days between inns when the messenger had arrived at their rooms during their breakfast and handed over the neatly written invitation. Their father read it aloud, frowning, and Sansa had been jealous until she'd heard that the rest of the note invited the other Stark girls to join her majesty again in the Wheelhouse tomorrow when they set out.
Septa Mordane would normally give them lessons on their non-travelling days, however told them that they wouldn't get anything done today with all of the excitement. Sybel was sure that their Septa just wanted a day to herself as well; because Sybel could not say she was excited. And nor would she say Arya's expression was excitement. Instead, she only felt a roiling nervousness in her stomach that made her feel finished with her food despite there still being some cheese and bread on her place.
Their father stood up, kissed each of them on the head, telling them to be good, before leaving their rooms. They hadn't seen much of him at all lately as he would leave early to meet with the King and come back late. If they were lucky, they would share their breakfast and dinner with him, but most of the time it was only their dinner.
Their Septa seemed to read her thoughts. "You best get used to it, my dear. He's only going to get busier when we arrive in Kingslanding." Sybel sighed. "Now, make sure you make yourself presentable for the Queen today. How you look is very important."
Sybel sighed again and stood to go back to her rooms to find a more appropriate dress. Sansa excitedly bounced along behind her, chattering about helping Sybel pick out her best dress for the honour. Alyse followed closely behind, as Arya scampered off with Nymeria.
They dug through her trunk, Sansa helpfully discarding most until she came across her deep green silk dress. It was Sybel's favourite dress because she thought the colour brought out the red of her hair and rosy hue of her skin. Sybel wanted to save it for a special occasion but Sansa insisted that this was the dress she should meet the Queen in.
She undressed quickly, feeling more and more like she needed to get this over with already. Sansa watched her closely as Alyse laced up the dress, pulling it firm around her chest and emphasizing the curve of her waist.
"Do you think I will grow breasts like yours?" Sansa asked suddenly, red in the face.
Alyse burst out laughing and their Septa called out a chiding Sansa! from the other room. Clearly the walls were thin and sound travelled. Sybel's mouth was hanging open in shock before lowering her voice to avoid Septa hearing them. "Where did that come from, Sansa?"
She looked like she hadn't thought her question through and no longer wanted to say anything, but Alyse teasingly prompted her to continue. "Come now, don't leave us wondering!"
"It's just… I see the way the men look at them—"
Sybel went bright red and Alyse burst out laughing again, unable to contain herself at the unexpected turn of conversation. Alyse knew exactly how much knowing that would affect Sybel and she thought it was about time she realized how her body had changed and how it drew attention to her. Sybel had always been sweetly oblivious to the way she was looked at.
"They are not," Sybel denied, face hot.
"They certainly are!" Both Alyse and Sansa cried at the same time before descending into a fit of laughter again. Alyse added, "From my understanding, that particular part of your body is quite well liked by—"
"Stop," Sybel cried out. "No more. I don't like it when you both team up on me!"
Alyse raised her hands in surrender and stood to start trying to tame her red hair by pulling it to the side over her shoulder in a loose thick braid. Alyse easily answered Sansa while Sybel tried to cool her hot face.
"M'lady, you haven't yet bled but when you do, you too will grow more in the way of breasts, I'm sure… but in truth I don't know they will be quite like your sisters," she giggled and Sybel's face returned to its prior shade of red, "but I'm sure they will be just as well liked by your Prince."
Sansa beamed red, stood up and daintily put a leading rope around Lady before announcing she would take her for a walk. Alyse finished Sybel's hair and then dusted off her hands like she was done her job, before placing her hands on her hips and looking Sybel dead on in a no-nonsense kind of way.
"I've been wondering, m'lady, if you're alright and all after, well…" She lowered her voice so it wouldn't carry, "when you were gone from the tent?"
Sybel glanced towards the door and instead said, "I really should be getting on my way but maybe you could walk me to the Wheelhouse?"
"Of course, m'lady!" Alyse nodded and as they left, the passed a snoring Septa Mordane.
They walked slowly in the direction of the Queens preferred mode of transport. She seemed to stay in there, even when they stayed at inns, so Sybel could only assume that it must be far nicer inside than the plain wooden exterior would make it seem.
"So…?" Alyse trailed off questioningly. With Alyse's penchant for chatter, she assumed her lack of it right then was an indication how much she wanted to know what had happened.
Sybel looked around, keeping her voice low with all of the people passing around them. "I just don't know what to say, I'm very confused."
Alyse's eyes went wide and shocked. "M'lady, did something happen between you and Jory? Do I need to tell your lord father he is—"
"No! No it's nothing like that!" Sybel quickly said, not especially surprised at where Alyse's active mind would take her. "Nothing happened between me and Jory."
Now that she knew Sybel hadn't been misled in the harshest way a woman could be, Alyse could revert to a friend intrigued by a bit of gossip rather than a handmaid worried for her lady's future. Not that she believed Sybel would ever be improper outside of marriage—the girl blushed and flushed far too easily—but she wouldn't put it past other men to be a bit too friendly and for her to be a bit too trusting. And Alyse always worried at least a little about that for her lady.
"Now you're just teasing me," Alyse harrumped at her, pointedly looking around at the lush grass, healthy trees and stone of the inn building rather than at her.
Sybel smiled and grabbed onto Alyse's arm to lean in close, almost in a conspirator kind of way. Alyse liked that; had always considered herself lucky to be a handmaid to someone who could see her as a trusted companion rather than just a handmaid. The households where that was allowed were few and far between, but even if it wasn't in the House Stark, she was sure Sybel would have been able to get away with it anyway. It only made her hold tight to every secret Sybel had ever shared; not willing to put herself in a position of losing that. "I don't mean to. I just…I needed to go for a walk, it was too hot in our tent and Jory accompanied me. But then we ran into Jaime."
"Of House Lannister?" Alyse looked surprised but nodded for Sybel to continue. "And?"
"And I don't know," Sybel sighed, exasperated. "We spoke for a while. He kept insinuating that Jory thought of me as more than just my father's daughter and kept implying that I needed protecting and then Jory and he seemed to get into some sort of silly argument about it too. I actually thought they were going to fight each other, it was just so…ridiculous."
Alyse mouth gaped open. "That sounds exactly like those songs m'lady's sister likes so much. What was actually said?"
Sybel groaned and did just that. After, Alyse was lost for words—something Sybel had never seen before. The more she recounted it, the sillier she felt. If she didn't know better and didn't know the intentions of the men in question better like she did, it almost did sound like a bard's song that little girls love listening to. Sybel knew better though and that's what made her feel so silly.
Alyse was still silent. Sybel just looked sheepish. "And that's not even the worst of it."
Alyse could barely contain her interest, "Oh please tell me the worst of it, m'lady."
So Sybel told her about her interaction with Jaime in Winterfell, blushing and halting in her retelling as people approached her and made quick conversation with her, all the while Alyse stood there impatiently waiting for it to be over so Sybel could continue. With each part, it seemed like Alyse just became more and more dumbstruck.
"I never would have believed you would pick a fight—and with him of all people—if you hadn't just told me yourself!"
"I didn't pick a fight, I just…directed my frustration at him unfairly…" Sybel trailed off weakly, not even able to convince herself. Alyse certainly wasn't being convinced either.
"By the gods, what is it like to have two men fighting over you," she teased, at a loss for anything else to say. She did have a sense of worry, though, that only grew as her lady told her story—worry at the way the Knight was too easy in her lady's company, not taking care to tread lightly with his words. It made her worry what else he might not tread lightly with.
Sybel halted them, cutting her off. "That is not what is happening."
Alyse looked at her in disbelief. "I'm sorry m'lady, but was I the only one listening to your story?"
"Alyse," Sybel said seriously. They were too close to the wheelhouse to be discussing anything like this for her liking. "He makes me so—"
"Hot and bothered, by the sounds of it," Alyse mumbled. Sybel looked at her pointedly.
"He likes to mock me and Jory is the Captain of my father's guard. That's all it is." Sybel was firm but Alyse was unconvinced.
"But m'lady—"
"Alyse, please," she begged. "I can't think about this right now when I'm about to talk with the Queen."
Sybel felt better having told someone about her interactions with Jaime Lannister; it felt less like she was keeping secrets and was weight off her.
Alyse conceded easily, though continued to mull over everything her lady had said. "It will be fine, I'm sure. You will charm the Queen the same way you do with everyone else you meet."
"I hope so," Sybel muttered, though she had a heavy sense of foreboding because the Queen had no reason to spend any time with her—it was Sansa who would marry her son, not Sybel. So why did she suddenly have such an interest in her?
Thanks for reading!