NOTE :Hi guys!
There we are, the infamous trial! You are finally going to see where I am going with Lady's fate! I hope you'll enjoy this ^^
This is also Kyria's first attempt at politics! And the first real confrontation to the Lannister, and dear Cersei...
We also have the joy to see one of our favorite character! And the golden Lion at the end
That's a lot of people folks xD
Chapter 10: The troubles on the road.
Year 298 after the Conquest Fourth month to sixth.
The King's Road. Somewhere in the Riverlands.
Kyria
A part of Kyria's mind had hoped the prince would let go of the incident with Lady. It was foolish and very unlikely, but still, she had hoped. Of course, he didn't. A smarter man may have though. But again a smarter man wouldn't have attacked a lady's pet without reason. However, as she had already discovered, Joffrey Baratheon was not the smartest man in the room. Rarely so at least.
So he went to his mother's skirt, to cry on his wounded pride. And the Queen Mother reacted. She went to the King.
Kyria had hoped again, as she thought about it before their summon. She had hoped that maybe the King's clear disinterest for his son and heir would have played in their favor for this time. That maybe he would have ignored the boy and let go of the affair. It wouldn't have helped the situation for sure, Cersei didn't seem the kind of woman who gave up that easily, but she was still powerless to the King's command.
Or so she hoped.
It didn't happen like that. Somehow, that day, the King listened. Sometime during the evening, right after Kyria and her sisters had taken their meal with their Septa, two Kingsguard entered the tent, escorted by a couple of Stark men.
Kyria's blood froze on her vein as she looked at them. She didn't know their names, she hadn't bothered learning them yet. Maybe she should have. Not knowing who was in front of her only grew her wariness from the armored knights.
Next to her, Arya stilled in her sit, abandoning the embroidery Sansa had been tirelessly trying to teach her that night.
"The King is asking for your my ladies." said the first one.
"Us?" chipped Sansa with all the innocence she had in her.
She had a lot of it.
The Kingsguard didn't seem moved by it.
"You," he said.
No one moved. The one on the right stiffed, impatient.
" Would you be so kind and accompany us?" he asked, his voice ruffed by his helmet.
He wasn't asking and Kyria knew it. Just as she knew why he was here.
"And what does the King want with three young girls by this time of the evening?" asked Septa Mordane.
For once, Kyria was glad for this interruption. The Stark men around them seemed uncomfortable. Kyria wished she could ask them to go fetch her father. He was better suited to deal with the situation and the King. But that would sound strange.
Kyria's eyes fall back on the Kingsguard. On the one on the right to be precise. His hand was carelessly resting against the pommel of his sword. One finger tapping it rhythmically. It wasn't an offer, no. They were summoned whether they wanted it or not.
She had to take control of the situation. Control was important. She had to show a strong facade, for the small girls next to her, and the sweet wolf who was surely the reason for all this. So Kyria schooled the muscles of her face and nodded prettily.
She had to be smart here. She had to think, she knew that. Time to prove herself that all those praised on her intelligence were deserved.
She agreed to come with them, asking their Septa to excuse them to their Father. She hoped the old lady would be smart enough to do that quickly. Then she grabbed both her sister's hand and exit the tent. The Kingsguard followed without another word.
"Why would the King want to see us?" asked Arya.
"I don't know..." responded Sansa batting her eyelashes.
"I'm afraid I do..." mumbled Kyria.
Both of them looked at her but she didn't say anything else. She had other things to think of than sharpening the minds of her sisters. Like controlling her own and the expressions of her face. Nothing should betray the coolness of her expression. If she lost control of the situation she knew things would go very wrong very quickly.
Lady, she thought, think of Lady. You do this for her. And Sansa too. She won't lose her wolf.
She didn't know for sure what the Prince might want in retribution of his pride. But whatever that was, Lady would suffer from it. A part of her whispered an execution. But she couldn't think of that. It was a very likely possibility. For the rest of the world, their wolves were only fancy pets, a caprice from rich, noble, pampered children. But she knew how much they all counted for them. To lose one of them would be devastating.
She couldn't allow her sweet Sansa to suffer from that. Besides, they were their fiercest protectors. Killing them would leave them, if not defenseless, at least weak. They couldn't be weak around here.
The travel to the King's tent wasn't long, fortunately. The thing was enormous. Like its owner she supposed. It could have held two tents like the one where Kyria and her family slept. And the thing itself was holding three girls, one adult man, three almost grown-up freaking giant wolves and one septa. That counted for something.
Inside of it, everything was red and golden. It was almost blinding. And very disturbing, knowing the King's House. A couple of yellow and black banners were showed around of course, particularly in the center of the main place, but they were almost lost in the sea of red.
The King sat in the center, on a chair that seemed to be his traveling throne. Or something like that. He was surrounded by a lot of people, a good half of the party, all armored as if ready to war. And in the middle of all that, his family. Of course.
Kyria's eyes found the Queen first, noticeable in her golden dress, almost shining in her anger. The fire in her eyes burning hot and menacing. One of her paws was on the Crown Prince's shoulder. He was snaring at them with an expression satisfaction hardly missed by anyone clever enough to look. His blood-red doublet was just as bright as his mother's dress. They matched. She distractedly wondered if they did it on purpose.
Behind the Queen Mother, the two other royal cubs were looking at her with big eyes. For one second, she thought the found pity in them. It angered her.
She didn't need that. She was going to protect her sister and Lady. She won't let the Queen or Prince broke her sweet sister. Not ever.
Finally, Kyria's eyes found the King. He was as enormous as usual, spread on his throne like a giant bag of soft meat. He looked a bit red, but she wasn't sure of what. Wine maybe…
Kyria blinked and, reminding her manners, bowed to the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. She didn't bother looking if her sisters did the same. They were smart enough to know how to do so.
"You asked for us your grace?" she said politely.
"You!" accused the prince a finger throw at her with all the rage and indignation of a little boy. Impressive... "You threatened my life you little bitch! You must pay for that!"
Kyria moved slightly, hiding Arya from the accusing finger. And the boy attached to it. Control, she had control.
"Forgive me my prince, but could you explain what you mean by that?" she asked sweetly.
She would have been incredibly proud of herself in any other circumstance. But she couldn't allow her mind to wander right now. Control.
"Do not mock me!" the prince accused again, "You threatened me with that beast of yours! The bloody thing almost killed me!"
"Shut up boy, let us ask the questions! Then you will fuss all your bloody content!" said the King, shushing the boy with a wave of his hand.
It was like he was trying to scare away a fly. Maybe for him, both things were just as annoying.
Joffrey's mouth's close up, shutting itself, almost without his consent. He turned an interesting shade of red but didn't talk. For enough time to the King to talk again at least.
"My son, foolish boy that he is, says that one of your beasts attacked him," he announced with more boredom Kyria ever heard in one single sentence.
Why was he even bothering? He looked ready to fall asleep. Was it the alcohol? Was he always half drunk? That would explain it...
"Did he?" asked Kyria. "When? Was it today?"
"You know when it was wolf bitch! You ordered it to kill me!" accused the boy. "You threatened me! Your prince! I should cut your tongue this instant for the affront!"
Kyria hides her hand behind her skirt, so no one could see her white fist. Good gods did she want to punch him. He was threatening her publicly, but it was she who was questioned. Hypocritical fool.
Do not talk while angry. Deep breath Kyria, deep breath.
"Did I? Why would I do that?" she chooses to ignore the rest of the sentence, for safety more than anything else.
"Because you're a treacherous bitch! That's why! A treacherous Northen bitch so jealous of me and my position that you would do anything to erase me! Because you're nothing compared to me! You know it! I know it! You're a worthless woman from a worthless country! You and your cursed family!" spat the boy with venom. Kyria had to take a step back to duck the small bit of saliva.
Kyria gritted her teeth. Not only was he insulting her and her family, but the boy was paranoiac. Wonderful. Oh, good gods why couldn't she just throw an arrow right into the boy and be done with it! Or punch him even! She never punched anyone, but with enough motivation, it shouldn't be that hard.
No. No, she had to stay calm. Not angry. Not angry. Stay calm.
"I'm sorry my prince but I do not recall menacing you at any point today."
Technically, it was true. It wasn't a threat. A warning, however...
"Stop lying, my son saw you command your beast." said the Queen from behind her son.
Kyria quickly risked a look at the woman. Her eyes seemed to glow with fury. Bright and intense like a green fire burning away the beauty of her face. She seemed ready to murder her. By one of the guards or by herself she couldn't say for sure. She seemed to want nothing more than to split her with a sword and watch the blood leave her body.
Worst of all, she was certainly capable of such a thing. She knew enough of blood lust to recognize it anywhere. Frost had the same look when he went hunting in the Wolfwood.
As for the King, he snorted loudly, a heavy cup on one of his hands. Where in seven Hells did he found this? He didn't have this cup one minute before. He buried his nose inside the thing and part of his content fell on his beard. It wasn't water.
"Those beasts should be killed this instant!" the Queen demanded, her voice strong and loud in the tent.
Several voices around the crowd seemed to agree with her, and Cersei straightened her back, bathing in her people's approbation. Kyria pressed her fists further behind her skirt.
Stay calm she thought again.
"Ky-" started Sansa.
She didn't let her talk.
"I still don't understand to what event you are referring," she said, a little louder than necessary. She had to take control of the situation, as much as she could. She had to have the attention of everyone if she wanted to be heard. He needed time. Until Father arrived. "I only wish to understand what I am accused of, my Prince, my Queen." she embellished each title with a bow, for good measure.
Honestly, Kyria didn't like all the attention she was gathering in this situation. Everyone was concentrated on her. The crowd, the King, and more importantly, the Queen and her son. She wasn't worried about the King. He didn't care about what was happening, and even if he was, the man was Father's oldest friend. He wouldn't let anything really bad happen to them. She hoped so at least.
But the Queen and the Prince both seemed determined to have what they wanted.
Currently, Lady's skin on their bed.
She knew, that having that much attention on her could only mean bad news for her in the future. A future way to close for her liking. She was already in a dangerous place, so far away from the familiar lands of Winterfell. And the just as familiar loyal bannermen of her father.
There was no question of loyalty as she stood accused in front of the Queen.
She had to win this debate. Or at least to gain enough time for Father to come.
Somewhere on the back of her mind, memories of Frost, Nymeria and Lady were succeeding each other. Images and shapes that went back to their first days, when they were nothing more than balls of fur, all fluffy and cuddly and so adorable. Spending their time climbing each other, fighting about anything and everything. Memories of their training, them growing up, learning to hunt, to play, to listen, to obey and trust their human counterpart.
The lazy glint in the back of Frost's eyes the first time he looked at her.
She needed to be smart there. She couldn't let the Queen kill them. Never.
"We accuse you of trying to hurt my son with your filthy beasts this afternoon by the river!" snared Cersei Lannister with something very close to hatred in her tone.
Kyria couldn't deny it. She did have an altercation with the prince close to the river. But still… she hoped what she had in mind could help her get the wolves out of the Lannister's thirst for blood.
Hopefully…
"I apologize my queen but I am not sure what you are referring here. Is this about the discussion we had together earlier this afternoon my Prince?"
She couldn't deny it, yes. But it didn't mean she was going to give credit to what Joffrey reported to his mother.
"What discussion? You threatened me! You threatened to send your wolves on me like some kind of savage! You are no better than those beasts! Hunting people with that pack of monsters! You should be grateful people like us did you the honor to give a damn about your pathetic family of boorish Northmen!"
Kyria quickly looked at the King, hoping to have some kind of support from him. But the man was looking deeply at the inside of his cup. It was like he didn't even hear his son's comment. It was pointless. She won't find any support here.
Speak of a King...
"I'm afraid I have still difficulties understanding what you are referring to my prince. I do not remember making any threat to your person." she almost batted her eyelashes. But it would have been too much.
Maybe...
"Liar!" accused both the mother and the son.
"What is happening here!?" boomed Father's strong voice behind them.
Oh, thanks to the gods! She could have cried.
"Ned! Come here and take care of those bloody kids!" ordered the King, his face red and exasperated.
His voice sounded watery like he had his mouth full. He didn't sound like that earlier...Had he drunk since their arrival?
Father put a comforting hand on her shoulder and politely asked the Prince for an explanation.
Joffrey repeated his accusation with just as much hatred and anger as before, and Kyria keeps her mouth shut.
Behind her, Arya, who by some miracle hadn't opened her mouth almost since the beginning of all this took a step closer. Did she understand the tenuousness of their situation?
Kyria couldn't say for sure. Maybe she remembered what happened earlier, by the river.
She went back to Father, as the blond boy finally shut his mouth. She hadn't paid attention to what he had just said, but from the time he took relating the events, she could say for sure he had been lying. It didn't take that long to explain the previous event.
"I see..." said father after a time. "Well, I don't recall seeing you injured my prince."
"W-what?" asked the boy.
He looked taken aback by this. Kyria applauded her father's thinking. Still, maybe she should have listened. She had no idea how Father came to this question, and it bothered her.
She needed to pay more attention.
"You are saying one of my daughters' wolves attacked you close to the river, on Kyria's orders if I understand correctly." resumed Father slowly.
"This filthy beast tried to bite me!" accused the boy. "With no reason! If I hadn't defended myself against it I could have been hurt! She took me by surprise! Like a coward!" he then sounded smug " I suppose I shouldn't expect anything more from a stupid girl!"
"By surprise, you say," repeated Father.
"That's what I just said!"
"Then I ask again, where have you been hurt?"
"I haven't been hurt!" denied the boy, looking offended at the idea. "Aren't you listening?! I defend myself!"
"Did you?"
"What are you deaf!?"
"Watch that filthy mouth of yours boy!" groaned the king.
Oh so now he was defending them? Useless waste of space. Why were they even bothering with this man? And why was he suddenly bothering himself? Didn't he had a cup to empty?
Or was it because his son insulted his friend?
"Not at all young prince," answered Father calmly, "I just wanted to be sure of what you were saying." he took a dramatic pause in his sentence. "You do know my lord that those wolves are trained by my children since they were nothing but pups."
"Why should we care about how those beast are used by your family?" sneered the Queen.
"Because they are killers." snapped Kyria before she could stop herself. "The Direwolves are killers before anything else. We trained them to obey us and protect us."
"That's only proving our point," answered Cersei almost triumphantly.
"I think not," said Kyria. "If one of our wolves had taken Prince Joffrey from behind, to attack him, he wouldn't be there talking about it. Because they wouldn't have missed him."
"So," said Father, pressing her shoulder. "I would like to understand now how if it is the wolf that attacked you, my prince, you are not injured, while the said wolf is cut on several places," again, he took a pause. "Besides," he adds then, "From what I saw, you were the one with a sword, pointed right at my daughters."
"Is it an accusation Lord Stark?" questioned the Queen her eyes small and shiny.
Her cold voice sends a chill down Kyria's back. She was almost frightening.
"An ascertainment my Queen. Like the one, I make when I observe the lack of wound on our Prince. So I ask again, where were you injured in the attack?"
Joffrey opened his mouth several times. But nothing came out of it. His face again took a deep red color. He looked like he was being strangled. The vision woke something on the back of Kyria's mind.
She didn't bother trying to understand it. She blinked it away.
"Well, boy? Where is it?" asked the King with a booming voice.
It took several minutes for the prince to admit not having been injured.
Lord Stark nodded once and looked at Sansa.
"Go get Lady."
"Father..." started Kyria.
He silences her with a twist of his hand. Sansa did what she was asked to without any word. Arya and Kyria exchanged a confused glance.
Kyria's own heart was beating fast in her chest, she didn't like that. She didn't like that at all. She didn't want Lady or any other wolf in the tent with them. Not while they were having this particular discussion.
"Why would you want that beast in here?" grumbled the King.
"It must be punished." said the Queen with a strong voice. "The beast must be killed for the affront."
"It was not Lady's fault! She did nothing wrong! This stu-"
"Arya!" hushed Kyria, pulling the girl close to her.
She had been so quiet since they came here, why did she choose this time to open her mouth? Insulting the prince right now was the worst thing to do. His mother wouldn't let that pass.
"There is no need of that for now." ordered the Hand with a strong voice. "I would rather like to prove a point, to your Grace," he said to the King more than anyone else.
The King snorted loudly, but change his position on his throne-like seat. He seemed interested.
Kyria wasn't sure if it was a good sign.
Sansa came back a couple of minutes later, cutting the Queen in the middle of her plead about the danger represented by the wolves.
"Lady." called softly Lord Stark.
The wolf eagerly made her way to her mistress's father, panting and padding like a puppy would have.
Lord Stark kneel in front of the wolf and turn her so her wounded flank would be visible to everyone.
"This is the result of what happened this afternoon your Grace. Your son made this."
"So you agree. This beast attacked my boy." said the Queen with satisfaction.
"Not at all my Queen," responded Father, imperturbable. "When my daughters came to your son, he was beating the beast. Who didn't say anything."
"Lies!"
"Look at her, my prince!" said Ned Stark with a strong voice. "She is twice the size of a normal wolf! If she intended to attack you, she would have killed you before anyone could have come to your rescue."
"Are you saying Lord Hand, that those beast are dangerous enough to kill anybody if they want to?" snared the Queen.
"We had them since they were pups my queen." intervened Kyria, taking a step closer. And they dared accused her father to be deaf."We trained them all their lives. They don't attack anyone if not threatened."
"I won't have a dangerous monster walking in the Red Keep ready to kill us all just for the sake of children." said the Queen dismissively.
"I beg your pardon my Queen but the Red Keep once hosted beast way more impressive than a direwolf," said Kyria. "Besides, there is no reason for you to worry. We won't be threatened in KingsLanding… would we?"
Kyria almost bites her lip. She shouldn't have said that…
Oh no, she shouldn't have. The look in the queen's face was so outraged, so angry… She challenged the Queen right in the middle of her court. She won't take this well...She was supposed to make things right, to be the smart one. She shouldn't let her temper have the best of her, she knew that! But the occasion had been too great. To confront the queen in her lies, the holes in her speech. It was too much of an occasion.
Maybe she liked it too much… the sensation of being the smartest one in the room…
Stupid Kyria. Pride wouldn't take her anywhere. Except maybe in trouble. Robb showed it enough when they jousted together, in their parody of a debate they sometimes did during their afternoons at the library of Winterfell. How often did she play with her brother's pride to win one of those…
And now she was making the very same mistake.
Stupid.
"Besides, my Queen," said Father. "We have proof here that the wolf was injured by your son, but your son still has no wound. Logic makes me conclude that no one seems to have threatened your son. Or if so, it's his word against my daughter's. And Kyria never lies."
"Are you implying my son does?"
"I'm only stating that it is still his word against hers."
"The little b- girl was there too!" pointed the Prince, his face red and angry.
For the first time, Kyria noticed a similarity between the boy and his father. He had the same skin completion as him when the King was deep in his cups. Huh.
"Oh let them keep the beast and be done with it! I'm tired of this discussion." ordered the King with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Kyria took a deep breath.
"My love," intervened the Queen before she could rejoice more. "Surely you don't want our son to be attacked again by those… beast."
The King snorted. "And what do you think that beast of a man that serves as his Swornshield is for? Decoration? He's not pretty enough woman!"
The King laughed at his own joke and ordered them to go back to their tent. Kyria obeyed without a fuss, too scared to see the man change his mind.
As she left the royal tent, she heard the queen and her precious son argue with the King. Her heart missed a beat. She almost lost herself and ran back to the safety of her tent. Before anyone would get the idea to follow them and execute the queen's wish.
It was over. It was over and they were safe. She throws herself to Frost, relief shaking her hands as she pets the giant wolf with tender care. It was over.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw Sansa doing the same with a quiet reverence that set the alarm inside her mind. The girl had been close to losing her friend just then.
Kyria wished she knew what to say to comfort her. To tell her everything was fine, that it was just a big misunderstanding and that nothing was going to happen to Lady.
But she couldn't bring herself to open her mouth.
Frost nipped her fingers and she resumed her stroking in his massive back, losing herself in his thick fur and the familiar smell of wildness and dirt.
"Kyria..." whispered Sansa. "… did you… did you really attacked the prince by the river?"
"What?" she asked, not certain to have heard right.
What did she just say? Did she really-
"Did you used Lady to attack the Prince back then?" her little sister asked again, her voice stronger.
"Don't be stupid!" snapped Arya behind her oldest sister. "Of course not."
"Arya-" started the said sister.
Sansa didn't let her talk.
"But the Prince said it. He said you attacked him. Because you were jealous. Why would he-"
"He lied!" accused Arya furiously. "He lied like the coward he is! Because he wouldn't say he was attacking Lady for no reason! He's a stupid boy and you're just as stupid if you believe everything he said!"
"I'm not stupid!" protested Sansa outraged by the accusation. "but he's the Prince! Why would he attack an innocent creature without reason? Princes don't do that! Prince Joffrey wouldn't do such a thing! He knows Lady belongs to me! And I'm to be his wife! Husbands wouldn't do anything to hurt their lady wives, it is their duty to protect them from any harm!"
"So you'd rather think I attacked an innocent boy with no reason using your sweet gentle wolf instead of my Frost, then believe for one second that your perfect match is maybe not so perfect?" said Kyria, her voice slow and quiet. "you'd rather believe a perfect stranger than your sister? A sister you knew all your life?"
Sansa opened her mouth, but nothing came out of it. Many emotions seemed to go through those blue eyes of hers. But Kyria couldn't understand them. The burning anger at her sister's words was too big. How could she? How could she do that, say that about her after everything? She may not remember her childhood, but she knew she loved Sansa. Like she did Arya and Robb and everybody else. She went South to protect her sisters. She tried so hard to protect her, to show her the way, to prevent her from suffering disillusionment from the world outside the safety of their ancestral home.
And that was all she got from it? A little girl ready to believe everything coming out of her beloved prince's mouth, above everything else? Common sense, or even family?
Kyria stood up without a word and went further inside the tent. She couldn't deal with this right now. She couldn't think about what just happened.
She had believed their numerous discussions had healed Sansa of this endless faith in songs and tales of gallant princes and knights loving fair maidens. They had talked about it, several times.
But it had been pointless.
Just like Bran… she thought bitterly.
No. Not Bran. She couldn't think about Bran. She'll break if she did…
Kyria curled in a tight ball on her bed, pressing her eyes close, and waited for sleep to come.
Distantly, she thought she heard Father's rumbling voice in the tent, along with Sansa's and Arya's furious words at some point. But she didn't try to listen.
She felt tired. So, so tired suddenly. Maybe Robb had been right. Maybe she should have stayed back home…
She felt so tired. Yet she didn't sleep until very late that night.
When she finally did, she dreamed of an endless meadow of grass and screams chasing her.
In the morning, her moonblood came again.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
It took Sansa one full day to gather the courage to talk to Kyria again.
The oldest redhead could feel her eyes following her though. She traveled on horseback that day. She didn't want to be on the same carriage as her sisters. She wanted to be alone, to think. To digest everything that happened the day before. So much happened…
The day was strange. She could feel numerous eyes following her every step. Heavy and loud in their questions. She wasn't sure what they wanted from her, but she knew well why they did so. Her confrontation with the queen had not been unnoticed. Just like she feared she had gathered attention upon herself. She didn't like it. She hated it. Because more attention from other people also meant more attention from the court. And the Queen's burning gaze.
It wasn't agreeable to be looked at this much.
Father rode close to her, giving her frequent look all day. Worried ones. He tried to talk. Once.
"Kyria… I heard what happened with Sansa last night-"
"I don't want to talk about it." she cut him, rather impolitely.
She really didn't.
"I can understand that. But darling, your sister was very distressed by what happened to Lady. By what might have happened."
"We took care of that. You and me Father," she said quickly.
"We did. But she was scared. She tried to understand how this could have happened. She tried to make sense to all of this."
"There is a sense in all this. She just preferred accusing me of attacking people without reason rather than admitting that her perfect prince may not be so perfect," she said without looking at him, her word bitter even in her ears.
"I know it was wrong of her to do so..."
"It's not you who should apologize Father..." she cut again.
Father sighed.
"She's a child Kyria. As you are may I remind you."
"Not for much longer Father. I'm ten and five. In less than one year I'll be off age." she started. "as for Sansa, it's long due for us to stop treating her like a fragile little doll. Or she'll continue acting like that."
"Kyria-"
"It's true!" she cut again. She did that a lot today and a part of her wasn't sure if it was such a good idea to show such a lack of respect to her Lord father. "Father, you and Mother, and Robb, and me too I guess, we are all about wrapping her in fluffy blankets and shade her from any arm, so she can keep her rose-colored glasses on her nose. But it won't help her. How can she be prepared for the real world if she does not know that there is a real-world?"
Father sighed. But didn't object.
"Talk to her Kyria. You won't be able to avoid her for long."
On that, they both agreed. He didn't talk again.
That evening, Kyria was enjoying some quiet time, her nose buried in a book when she heard in a corner of the room small feet slowly padding in her direction. Frost moved slightly behind her, and Kyria knew immediately who it was.
Sansa shyly sat on the bottom of the bed, barely touching the furs. Kyria ignored her, decided not to let her get away with all this that easily.
Several minutes passed without a word. Sansa's gaze on her was heavy and pleading, but Kyria didn't give up. She wasn't the one who insulted her sister without reason. She was not going to give up.
Finally, the girl opened her mouth.
"Kyria…?" she called softly.
Kyria didn't answer. She knew this pleading tone. But still, this girl had to learn to think before she opened her mouth.
"Kyria..." she called again, her voice pitiful in her pleading.
Kyria turned a page of her book.
"Kyria please… don't be mad at me..." she whined.
"And why would I be mad?" asked Kyria coolly.
"I-" hesitated the girl, " Kyria I don't want you to be mad at me..."
"And why should I be mad Sansa? Can you only tell me?"
"I- because, because I accused you of… of- Because I believed the prince instead of trusting you."
"And why did you do that, dear sister?"
"Because… because he's the prince and- and princes are no liar."
"Oh are they?" she snapped.
She shut her book close in a loud noise, her anger slightly escaping her. Finally, she looked at her sister. The little girl repressed a recoil at her sister's burning eyes.
"Are they really?" she repeated. "But if I am not wrong, princes are King, aren't they? After some time."
"Y- yes..."
"And I suppose King are also incapable of lying?"
"I-"
"No. Of course not." mocked Kyria. "Tell me, sister, did you sleep during your history lessons or you just don't want to hear what doesn't comply with your perfect idea of the royal family?"
"I- I mean-" she tried.
"No Sansa. You can't continue like that. I'm not saying it only for me. You have to grow up sister. It's not because he's pretty or he's a prince that he'll be the perfect picture of courtesy. Look at the past! Look at Aegon IV the unworthy, who almost destroys his own family out of pure lust and wickedness against his son, look at prince Aerion Brightfire and his madness! Princes are not always worthy of their title and being a prince has nothing to do with one's character!"
" But they were Targaryen," protested Sansa, "this had nothing to do with-"
"The family name has nothing to do with this Sansa. Look at the King." she cut her passionately. "look at how he behaves in front of his queen! Everyone knows about his numerous bastards." she said. "this is his son we are talking about. This is his son Arya and I found by the river, beating Lady violently. This boy who kills a cat to see what was inside, to see the kitten. Just because he was curious, or angry."
Sansa blinked at her, her pretty eyes full of tears. Kyria felt her heart squeezed by her sister's sadness. But she couldn't just forgive her like that.
"Father warned you, I warned you, that his good look didn't mean he was good inside. But you'd rather live in your fantasies than to see the truth of his faults, then I am afraid you are doomed."
Sansa sobbed, her face flushed in tears and sadness. Kyria sighed and rub her face frustratingly.
"I don't want to hurt you, Sansa. But you choose your precious prince instead of your family. Do you understand?"
Sansa nodded, her face hidden in her hands, shoulders shaking with every breath.
Kyria pressed her hands on her book. A part of her still wanted to comfort her little sister, but she felt like she shouldn't. Sansa, as sweet and innocent as she was, needed to understand the difficulties she might meet in life.
It wasn't her role, she knew that. She wasn't supposed to educate her sister like that. But no one else seemed to bother. Not Mother nor Septa Mordane, who both seemed determinate to fill her thirsty little mind of songs and fairy tales, encouraging her desire to live in a world where nothing could ever go wrong.
But Kyria knew, for having experienced it herself with the loss of her memories and more recently, Bran's fall that things sometimes went wrong. Sansa should know it too.
"I don't want to hurt you, Sansa. But I won't let you hurt me because you don't want to see the truth." she finally said slowly.
Sansa nodded again, sobbing apologies inside her hands.
"I'm sorry Kyria-" she wept in her handkerchief, " I'm sorry I accused you. I don't want you to be angry with me. I won't do it again I swear-"
Finally, Kyria wrapped the poor girl in her arms Sansa gripped the shoulder of her bodice strongly in her fists, sobbing freely in the soft blue cotton of her sister's dress. Kyria pressed her chin in her sister's soft hair, slowly stroking the long red locks cascading in her sister's back.
They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, Kyria slowly calming Sansa's sobs with quiet words and soft caresses on the red little head.
When her tears dried on her cheeks, Sansa apologized again, insisting on looking at Kyria right in the eyes. Later that night, Kyria wondered if it was Sansa's obvious admiration for her, as her older sister that helped or at least motivated this discussion. She wondered if it was the reason why Sansa felt so guilty for her word of the previous night.
She couldn't tell. Just as she couldn't tell if her own words, as hard and cold as they seemed had helped her sister see her life with another spectrum.
Sansa fell asleep on her that night. She didn't have the heart to call Father and move the girl. So they stayed together.
In the middle of the night, Arya joined them, rolled in a little ball on Kyria's back, her little fists grasping the tissue of her nightdress.
"Kyria..." she whispered. "The Queen hates you now. I heard her."
"She did?" asked Kyria slowly.
She fell the little head move on her back.
"She'll try again. I know she will. She hates Lady. And Nymeria and Frost. She hates them. She wants to take them from us."
"Aye..." whispered Kyria. "Joffrey do too."
The little head moved again.
"You won't let them won't you?" she asked.
Kyria didn't answer. She didn't want to. Let them. But what choice did she had?
What choice indeed… To fight. To fight for them. And for her family. With everything she had, and everything she knew.
She waited years for this, she knew it. She knew that was the reason why she studied so hard.
Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
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The party left the day after, obeying their King's wish to quickly return to the capital. They were back on the road before she could even start to get used to one place.
It was a long way to the capital. Longer than what Kyria ever thought it would be. Longer than it was supposed to be.
The frequent pauses commanded from the Queen didn't help in the matter. She didn't seem to support her travel in the great wheelhouse. She was very fond of complaining. But even when all the attention of the court was on her, Kyria could feel those burning green eyes on her back.
They followed her often during those days. The Queen's, the Prince's, and others too. Everywhere she went every time. She felt almost paranoid sometimes.
She didn't like the sensation. In consequence, she took the habit to bring Frost with her everywhere she went.
One of her only amusements those days, was to see the brave Lannister soldier and golden cloaks jump away on their path. On the wolves path. Father's speech had made an impression on the soldiers. Fear was not good news, but Kyria knew they were able to control their companion's wildness. As long as nothing wrong happened with them, the Queen had nothing to say against them. Her only defense was that they were dangerous. But with no other proof than the lie of a stupid little prince, there was nothing to do against them. Father wouldn't let them.
With that in mind, she quite enjoyed the sound of their armor clinking with the abruptness of their movements. The look on their face, a strange mix between awe and fear. The funniest moment was when one of the wolves suddenly showed their teeth in a smile. Frost, in particular, liked to do that often. He seemed as happy as a pup to see the stranger armored men shiver at his smile. Men found him scary. She found him funny. Adorable even. As adorable as she knew he wouldn't hurt them. Not if she didn't want it.
"They look like they're about to piss themselves." noticed Arya one day.
"Arya!"
"Oh admit it, Sansa, it's exactly what they look like." smiled Kyria. The little girl wasn't wrong.
She found one of the knight looking at her. Her smile grew. She was tempted to tease the poor fool with the impressive mass of her dear friend. But again, it wouldn't be wise. Her goal was to avoid attention as much as she could. Not to look for it with a show of power and masked threat in the appearance of her dear wolf.
So she dropped her gaze in a quick bow to the knight and pet Frost's head.
The man visibly gulped, his face pale and his hand tight against the pommel of his sword.
Well… she couldn't do much against a man's stupidity...It wasn't her fault if he was scared of her wolf while he remained as quiet and calm as a dream.
"I don't understand. How can they be scared of Lady?" asked Sansa later as they walked close to a rather pretty meadow, with flowers and butterflies around them. A dream come true...
"They're stupid, that's why," said Arya with a shrug of her little shoulders. "They're scared of Nymeria too. And Frost."
"But Nymeria and Frost are not like Lady." frowned Sansa.
"How so?"
"Lady is nice! She's sweet and well behaved,"
"She's still a giant wolf."
"Yes but she's not the same!"
"Sansa, no matter what her character is, for them she is a giant wolf. They don't want to know anything besides that," explained Kyria.
Her sister's frown didn't ease up.
"That's stupid."
Kyria snorted.
"Those men didn't look like the sharpest knives in the drawer..."
"They're stupid!" concludes Arya with a confident nod.
"But they are knights..." protested Sansa.
"And so?"
Sansa opened her mouth, but someone cut her.
"Good afternoon ladies."
The voice sends an ice-cold chill in Kyria's spin. She knew that voice. Oh, she didn't want to see him. She didn't want to talk to the man. She couldn't say why, but she couldn't stand the man. He didn't even talk to her before. Nor did she tried. But there was something.
If only she could just ignore that voice and keep on her walk. But she couldn't. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Sansa already facing the man, ready to bow like the perfect little thing she was. She knew she had to do the same.
Resigned to her fate, Kyria did the same, grabbing a resilient Arya to the task. The girl's wince couldn't have been more obvious. But at least, she did it.
"Lord Baelish." she bowed.
"Lady… Kyria is it?" he asked with an easy smile.
He could have looked charming. He was in a way she presumed. But there was something about it. The way he smiled, the way his eyes shone with a cold light, almost menacing, that put Kyria on edge.
She didn't like it. Every single part of herself was close to repulsed by him. He made her on her guard.
Trust me, child…
"It is my Lord." she managed to say politely.
The man smiled. Good. Her voice hadn't betrayed her so. That was good.
"Pardon me, my lady," he said. He had a strange voice. Close to a whisper, even though he was speaking in an even volume. Like a snake hissing his venom. "I am not used to meet so many young ladies at once."
"Who are you?" cut Arya abruptly.
"Arya!" chastised Sansa softly.
"What?" she snorted back.
Sansa rolled her eyes. Kyria repressed a smile.
"Arya, this is Lord Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coins in the great Council of Kingslanding." presented the oldest sister.
"A pleasure young lady." he bowed with a smile. "people also tend to call me Littlefinger. You might have heard of me that way."
"Why?" the girl asked back immediately.
Kyria had to gulp to stop herself from laughing. She could feel the corners of her mouth twitching.
"Arya!" protested again the only sensible sister in the pack.
Kyria wanted to be difficult today. Different from the supposedly wise sister. Sue her.
"No, no It's alright. A little bit of curiosity never hurt." smiled the man. The hair on Kyria's arm stood up immediately. Like on the back of an angry cat. "you see, when I was a boy, I was very small and tiny, not unlike you," he started. Wrong move.
"I'm not tiny!" protested Arya energetically.
"No, indeed you are not." indulged the man. Every nice thing that seemed to come out of his mouth was twisted by Kyria's brain. Attacked and twisted with one single question: what did he want?
"Anyway," he continued, " because I was so small, and because of the origins of my family, a part of the land called the fingers, some boys in the keep I was frosted on called me Littlefinger. The name stayed as I grew older."
That made sense… Next to her, Sansa escaped a little "oh" of understanding, flowering back the smile on Kyria's face. Even if she protested, she was as interested in this story as Arya and Kyria had been.
Sneaky little thing.
The man didn't seem to mind. He looked again at Arya's thinking little face and smiled. Again. He smiled a lot. Too much maybe. It didn't help to ease Kyria's nerves. Then, those small shiny eyes looked up to Sansa's pretty features.
"I don't think I caught your name young lady. Might you be the young lady Sansa? Our dear prince's betrothal?" guessed the man.
"I am my Lord" chipped Sansa, bowing prettily.
"I see… what a lucky boy, to have such a pretty betrothed."
The girl blushed. Of course, she did.
"Thank you my lord." she pipped again. Like a pretty little bird.
"I only speak the truth, my lady. You are the vivid image of your mother at the same age."
"Am I? Pardon me my lord but how do you know?"
Clever girl.
"I grew up in the Riverlands, with your mother's family."
"You did?"
"I did."
Sansa smiled. She seemed ready to ask more, but Kyria took the opportunity to ask the true question here.
"I beg your pardon my lord, but is there a reason for you to come to us in this fine afternoon?" she said calmly.
Baelish smiled again and looked back at Kyria.
"I couldn't help but hear you talk earlier. What was it about the knight?"
Nothing your concern…
"Oh, it's nothing" smiled Kyria, "just some confidence between sisters. Nothing of importance."
"Ah, of course, well I suppose those discussions don't need any… masculine presence."
"No my Lord, not this time," she said again.
Or any other time if she had something to do with it.
"Well, then I leave you to your conversation."
He bowed and walked away, the sound of silk moving followed every step.
"He seemed nice," said Sansa after a time.
"I don't like him."
"Me neither."
"What? Why? He seemed polite and nice! And he knows Mother! They were friends when Mother was my age!"
"That doesn't make me like him more," said Arya.
Kyria nodded without a word.
"He… I don't like the way he talks to us."
"Why?" asked Sansa.
"It's not the way he talks Arya. It's the way he looks at us."
"What do you mean Kyria?"
Kyria bites her lip and looked back at Sansa.
"I'm not sure."
The truth was, she didn't want to think about it. She was scared of what may come to her mind. But she didn't trust the man as far as she could throw him. That she was sure.
His voice was not the only thing that reminded her of a snake.
"Let's go back to our tent. Septa Mordane might end up worried if we spend too much time out," said Kyria with a sigh.
"Why? I like it here!"
"Yes but you know how things work here. We promised Septa not to take too long."
"Aye… keepin' our words and all that."
"Exactly."
"Try to see the good side of it, Arya. If we make it in time, Septa Mordane won't have anything to say about it. And she won't say anything bad to you," said Sansa with a hopeful smile.
Arya's frown eased up a little, and Kyria smiled. Again, clever girl.
The Septa didn't complain. She took a long look at Arya's dress, humphed and entered the tent without a word.
"Well… she didn't say anything," conclude Sansa.
"Why does she hate me so much?" asked Arya with a pout.
"I don't know..." sighed Kyria.
That bothered her too.
But what could she do? It wasn't her place to criticize the woman…
"Ignore her Arya," said Kyria.
What else could she do? She wasn't here to correct Septa's character.
"But she's so nice to me though… I don't understand."
"She's nice to you because you do as she says. Arya doesn't. And I started to talk back. Admit it, dear sister, you're her favorite." said Kyria.
Arya snorted a laugh and Sansa blushed. She didn't find anything to say to that. And Kyria only smile.
"What are we doing now? I won't listen to her lessons," said Arya throwing herself in a pile of fur on a corner of their shared tent.
They end up sharing a bed more often than not these days. Since the incident with Lady. Sansa said it was because of the cold, but somehow, she didn't believe it. A part of her thought that maybe the South wasn't so appealing suddenly.
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This trip was endless. She was tired of it. The road that keeps going, longer by the day, the cart that transported them, always moving making her want to throw up. The people around watching, talking. The wolves were always more nervous each day. Maybe it was true, what Old Nan used to say about the Stark of old times and their direwolves. She could feel Frost's nervousness as if it was her own. As so, she couldn't tell for the life of her if it was his, or hers.
Whomever it was, it was tiring.
Septa Mordane seemed to be the only one now happy with their travels. Trapped in the cart, they had no other choice than to listen to her tiring lessons. Days after days, she spoke of the south, courtesy, property, and, worst of all, her bloody seven. Kyria had nothing against the new gods truly. But she followed the old gods, her ancestor's religion. With what she could do… it seemed wrong to follow any other gods. It was legends of the old gods that talked about greenseers. But of course, she couldn't say that to their dear old Septa. The woman would lock her up to the silent sisters before she could say anything else.
Thanks no thanks.
Even when they didn't travel along the road, she still couldn't stand it. The people, the faces looking at her and looking away when Frost was there. The soldiers, Stark and Lannister, and let's not forget the few Baratheon men who survived gods knew how in the middle of all those lions. Goog gods she was sick of it.
Of all this. Why in all the Seven kingdoms did she ask Father to take him with her?
… Well, she knew why. But still. Why did it have to be her?
…
To be frank she knew that too.
Annoyed, with herself more than anything else, she exited the tent.
"Come on boy," she called Frost on her way out.
"Where are you going?" called Arya, interrupting her lesson with Sansa.
The redhead girl was determined to help her sister being as skilled with a needle as her. She could still hope Kyria supposed. At least, Arya was not as disgusted as before at the sight of a sewing needle.
But, judging from her frown and the twist of her mouth, this lesson wouldn't be long now. It was only a matter of minutes.
"I need some air," she said only.
"Can I go with you?" Arya asked immediately.
Of course, she did.
"Arya, you promised!" protested Sansa immediately.
Ah. A promise. Well, that changed things.
Arya pouted.
"We'll see about that later," Kyria said. "I wish to walk alone for a moment." Frost huffed. "well, alone with Frost." she adds with a smile.
"Be careful Kyria," called Sansa as her sister opened the tent.
"Don't worry sister, I have the best of bodyguards with me." she smiled with a pet on Frost's head.
The wolf nudged her hand softly. She smiled and finally left her sisters to their sewing.
Gods were it strange to think that.
Frost snorted next to her.
She smiled and rub his head.
"Are you reading my mind boy?"
He rolls out his tongue, looking at her with something she almost called mischief. She wondered sometimes if he could read her mind. He was good at it at least.
"Where are we going then?" she asked, half expecting the wolf to answer.
He did. With a huff, he took the direction of the forest close to the camp with the determination of a man on a mission. Except he was no man.
She was thinking way too much about this.
They stopped in a small clearing, nestled between to big trees, one of them a familiar white. She had to look twice to get over her surprise. It was pretty rare to see a weirwood that far south. Outside of an actual Godswood with that. Pensively, she lifts a hand against the hard trunk of the tree. He had no faces. That meant he grew up after the Andal's invasion. It was weird to see a weirwood without a face. It felt wrong. Unnatural almost.
Frost whined. She blinked, turning her attention back on the large beast. He looked at her from his new post on the grassy floor, his tail slowly swinging behind him. He whined again and blinked big sorrowful eyes at her. Right. Cuddling time.
With an amused smile, she cuddled herself against the large flank of her wolf and start to properly take care of him. With stroking on his large back. It was quite tiring in fact. With so much surface to cover, her arms were working. Kyria repressed a yawn and nudged her head against his neck.
"Let's stay like that for a time," she said slowly. "I'm feeling tired today."
She knew she was not going to like her stay in the South. She knew it almost as soon as she decided to go with her father. But she didn't think it would be that much. That… toxic. She couldn't call it anything else. The atmosphere around here felt toxic. Like acid trying to eat her skin. Her mind.
There was something wrong with the South and its people. The closer they get from Kingslanding the more she could feel it. She dreaded the capital now. How things might be once there.
She didn't need her visions to see that coming. They were entering the viper's nest. Right in the worst that Westeros seemed to have to offer. And they were doing it with a smile on their faces. Like sheep happy to be eaten by wolves.
Excepts they were the wolves.
She slowly dug out pieces of Frost's Winter fur, dead hair that was falling all around him all the time and was driving Septa Mordane crazy. Frost didn't protest. He was used to her doing that.
"I'm tired Frost." she sighed. "I wished… I wished I could just go home and ignore all of this."
It was so frustrating. When she was home she couldn't wait to leave, and once she had left, she wanted to go back. What a child. A little girl who couldn't make her mind.
And to think people were calling her smart. She didn't feel smart right now.
"Well well well, what have we here. A lost little Stark." sang a soft voice. "hello there little wolf."
She already heard that voice somewhere. Kyria looked up. A pair of golden boots was suddenly standing in front of her. Boots attached to equally golden legs. And torso. And… everything it seemed. Everything was golden apparently. And white. There were some touches of white around there. But the gold was far more present.
A golden Lion. Just like her dreams…
"Ser Jaime." she saluted.
"Lady Kyria." he purred. "How do you find our trip so far? Does it please your soft sensibilities?"
He was mocking her. Why? Kyria felt her eyes sharpening. What did he want with her?
"My sensibilities have nothing to do with it Ser," she answered instead of asking her question.
"Oh do they? Then what is bothering you?"
Why would he want to know that?
"A lot of things." she sighed.
"What? The climate? It's a change from your snow for sure."
"It is..." she agreed. "But I could get used to it, after some time."
The constant stickiness of her skin wasn't the most agreeable thing for sure, but to feel the sun on her skin had its appeal. That was a nice change. To feel warm outside of the Walls of a keep.
She never actually realized how cold the north could be until she passed the Neck. Some days she missed it.
"Oh, a northern girl who likes the sun?" he smiled. "How strange."
"I may learn to like it after a time," she said. "Like every weather I suppose."
Ser Jaime made a noise, between his lips and took a sit on an old tree stump. He didn't talk and Frost nips her skirt, so Kyria thought better to take care of the giant puppy than the unknown man.
But the knight didn't talk. He stayed there, observing her as she was petting her wolf. After some time, Frost grew bored with her attention and promptly put his head in his giant paws for a good nap. She huffed and layed back on him, searching comfort in the strong beat of his massive heart. She wondered, how big the heart of a direwolf might be? If the heigh of a beast had anything to do with the volume of his heart…
But now may not be the time to think about those things. She looked back at the Knight. He still hadn't moved. His eyes were closed and he seemed to enjoy the heat of the sun on his face. She understood where the entire Kingdoms were coming from when It concerned him. He was pretty. Like a song.
But she knew enough and read enough to understand that being pretty wasn't a trait of character.
Which led her to the great question. What did he want with her?
"Can I do something for you Ser Jaime?" she finally asked after ten good minutes of silence.
"Mmh?" he said lazily.
"Why do you stay here with me? There must be something you want isn't it?"
"Maybe."
She waited but he didn't say anything else. That was annoying. She didn't like not knowing. What did he want? Why staying here like that? Was she that interesting? Or maybe it was the wolf?
Why would a member of the Kingsguard stay there, next to the daughter of the new Hand of the King?
There must be something. Did his sister send him there? Someone else? Who? Why?
She hated not knowing.
"If you have nothing to say-"
"Am I bothering you Lady Kyria?"
...Seriously?
Of course, he was bothering her, foolish maddening knight. What was his game? Making her feel even more observed than she already was? If so, congratulation on the success!
The nerve of the man… She could understand why her father hated him so much.
"Not knowing why you try to bother me is bothering me, Ser Jaime."
The knight chuckled, a smile on the corner of his lips.
"Oh really?"
"Ser Jaime if you have nothing to say-" she tried again/
"My sister won't forget what happened." he cut her, his voice dropping with seriousness, whispering words in her mind.
The things I do for love.
He didn't intend to die…
Burn them all he said. Burn them all
This is beyond loyalty…
She blinked again. He was intimidating like that, with his golden armor and serious green eyes. She thought in this instant, she may finally see the knight behind the mask. The one-
Dark shadow grips him. Sharp nails. Poisoned voice.
Suddenly, it was like the light was brought in her mind. She understood. Yes. Yes, that what it. The great beast. He was the beast with the shadow. It suddenly made perfect sense, she couldn't explain it. When she thought back of the dream of the beast, she saw him as clearly as she was seeing the knight in front of her. All golden fur, and piercing eyes. His animalistic face twisting almost to the point of looking like Jaime Lannister.
Another Jaime Lannister. Different than the one in front of her. Something was missing in this one. She couldn't say what. But there was something.
"Honor..." whispered a voice. It to her a minute to recognize it at her own.
It happened again. She talked without knowing what she was saying. Like someone else was talking through her.
It was strange. She looked at him. Like a spectator observing the conversation. His eyes were sharper than ever before. There. There it was. What was missing? It wasn't that he didn't have it in him. It was hidden. Behind the golden armor and white cape. But it was there.
"What?" he asked.
"I wondered… what she was eating from you."
"What are you talking about?" he grunted with a frown.
"Honour. Yours," she said, looking at him right in the eye.
He looked stunned. Kyria blinked and regained some kind of control.
"I know your sister don't like me. I think she doesn't like anyone in my family," she said standing up. "I can't do a thing about it. But I also can't let her destroy everything I hold dear. I hold our wolves dear. Nothing will arm them as long as I can do something about it."
The idea of their wolves hurt or killed to please this hateful Queen or her just as a hateful son made her blood boil. But somehow her voice was still calm. Like the flow of a river. Slow, peaceful.
Meaningful.
Jaime Lannister didn't answer. She sighed. There again. She could feel the words crawling inside her mouth, like with Robb or Jon. She tried to keep them to her. She didn't need another pair of suspicious eyes.
"What do you mean by my honor?" he ended up asking, his sardonic smile back on his face. "With a Father like yours, you should know I have none of that."
Oh, gods… Why did he have to tempt her like that? She wanted to restrain herself, to not say the things a part of her mind seemed desperate to say. But gods if he questioned her like that-
The word flew out of her mouth before the could stop them.
"You have some still. But she's eating it out of you every chance she gets. When you lay with her when you obey her when you love her… She's eating it. She'll keep eating it until the day you don't have anything to offer. Then, you'll have nothing. She won't want you when you'll have nothing. She does not care for broken toys."
"What are you-"
"Perfection." she cut. "Perfection is the only thing she wants. But you're not perfect Ser Jaime. You're human."
Ser Jaime blinked. Several times. Kyria drops her gaze self-consciously and Frost nuzzled her cheek.
That was embarrassing.
After several more minutes of awkward silence, Kyria looked at him again. His eyes were looking at nothing, and his face pensive. Kyria would have loved to say something else, to find the right words… maybe to understand what she had just said. But what else could she say after that?
There was nothing.
It was strange. A part of her almost… almost wanted to give him a hand. To help him somehow, or at least to offer him help. Any kind of help. But why would she? She didn't know the man and he was… well, he was still the Kingslayer. Father hated the man. He wouldn't let her do anything related to him.
But still, part of her wanted to help.
So she said nothing. She stayed on the floor, with Frost napping around her.
It was stupid. A stupid feeling. Why would she want such a thing? Besides, it was not her business. She had been way too indiscreet already. And noisy. Someday she'll learn to keep her mouth shut.
But not today.
After some time, she pulls out the book the brought with her and took her reading where she let it. He didn't leave. He didn't talk. She didn't dare look up to see if he was still observing her with his troubled eyes. She had done enough for the day.
She read for maybe an hour. Then, Ser Jaime stood up and arranged his armor. She looked up then. She couldn't help it. He had this expression again. With the thing missing barely showing in the bottom of those green eyes.
"Be careful little lady," he said. "My sister won't forget what happened with your wolf. It's an insult for her."
She nodded.
"She doesn't like insults."
"Not many do."
"Yes, but for her… You'll regret testing her."
"I hope I won't."
She really hoped so.
Power is power…
She hoped but somehow didn't believed it. Her mind was whispering. She had learned to be wary of those whispers. They were never a good thing.
So what do you think? Good? Bad? Awfull?
Do not hesitate to share your opinion! I'll try to share the next chapter soon! In a couple of weeks hopefully. But, I'd rather warn you, we are in December, so it may take a few more days before the next update.
See ya soon!