DISCLAIMER - All characters from both the television series 'Game of Thrones' and the book series 'A Song of Ice and Fire', rightfully belong to George R R Martin, David Benioff and Dan Weiss.
HRAEDDR
The Library, Winterfell - 298 AC
TYRION
...
Tyrion had never heard wolves cry before.
He found himself wincing when the same howl rose up into the air again, somewhere deep within Winterfell's labyrinth and he shivered despite all the layers he wore. There was something about a wolf's howl that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Tyrion couldn't quite put his finger on it but found that since having run into the aftermath of what had happened yesterday, rushing through the crowds that had gathered in Winterfell's courtyard, bearing witness to Lady Catelyn's screams - he doubted it would dissipate anytime soon.
As he gradually began to descend the steep stone steps to the tower had that seen him spend his night there, Tyrion frowned. It wasn't his struggle down the rigid steps that were crude in their formation, dangerously narrow and far too high for his short, stunted legs that had him frowning; it was something Eliana Stark had mentioned to him that was playing on his mind, swirling around his large head and succeeding in keeping him awake at night.
My brother has never fallen and I refuse to believe anything other than he was pushed from that height.
Although Tyrion didn't want to believe it, he put it down to the girl's outrageous vigour and sheer fury that had him believing that was she assumed was actually the truth. Continuing down the steps, Tyrion wondered if there was more to it than that - he had watched, seeing the eldest Stark child moved to such admittance that her brother had been pushed from a route he was so familiar with.
Emerging into the courtyard, Tyrion grimaced when he noted that the sun that was warming in the sky had yet to rise over the walls of Winterfell but the castle was already awake and bustle had started around the yard. Tyrion considered if it was how the North mourned together - they busied themselves until the dangerous waters passed.
Tyrion sucked in a sharp gulp of wintry air, stretching his legs as he waddled further into the courtyard.
"... Wish the boy would be quicker about dying."
Hearing the harsh tones of Sandor Clegane, Tyrion huffed out a gruff sigh when he saw the Hound - the glorified bodyguard of his nephew - casting a long shadow across the yard as the fearsome man peered out through his open visor; the man was donned in his usual olive-green cloak and dark, battered armour with a studded leather jerkin underneath. Next to the Hound stood his nephew, his curly blonde hair unruly as he stood slouched in his usual surcoat, showing both the crowned Baratheon stag and the Lannister lion. Tyrion could see the slim coronet decorated with gold and sapphires that were over the curls atop his head which made him roll his eyes in disbelief.
How his sister had mothered such a child was unknown to him.
Tyrion tilted his head at Joffrey when his nephew spoke. "I didn't sleep at all last night with his blasted wolf and its racket." He saw his hand twitch for the dagger sitting at his waist, covering its jewelled pommel with his palm.
The Hound chuckled, "I thought you were fond of them, My Prince," he recalled through his open visor.
"Do you think the Starks would miss one dog if I sent mine to kill it?" Joffrey propositioned, his hand trailing along one of the many longswords as they sat in their rack before finally glancing over his shoulder again to look back at the Hound. "I doubt the Starks would even notice."
"Nephew," Tyrion called finally, edging further into the courtyard and drawing both of their attention to him immediately. He barely stopped himself from sighing when Joffrey scoffed. "I'm surprised to find you out here slandering the Starks."
He saw Joffrey visibly bristle at his words and Tyrion wondered how they had been so unfortunate to have been graced with such a viciously cruel nephew as heir to the Iron Throne. "My mother's been looking for you..." he smirked, inclining his head at Tyrion and then moving to fold his arms over his chest. "We leave for King's Landing today."
Tyrion nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Joffrey as he spoke. "Before we leave, make sure you call upon Lord and Lady Stark to offer them your sympathies."
"What bloody good will my sympathies do them?"
Watching his nephew curiously, Tyrion wondered if Joffrey was cruel because he simply enjoyed it or whether his subsequent vicious streak would forever be part of his armour. "Oh, I'm sure nothing but it is expected of you," he explained plainly, his eyes never leaving the blonde as he stood before him.
"The boy means nothing to me," Joffrey bit out in a scoff, his lips turning upwards into a groan. "I can't stand the wailing of women, either."
Reaching up, Tyrion swiftly slapped the boy across the face so hard that Tyrion almost shocked himself with his own reaction. He could see the satisfaction in the way Joffrey's cheek began to redden instantly, "Carry on talking and I'll hit you again."
Holding his cheek and looking utterly distraught, Joffrey flared up. "I'm telling Mother- "
Tyrion hit him again and forced him into a satisfying silence. Both cheeks were aflame, glowing angrily.
"Go tell your Mother," Tyrion encouraged slowly and he brought his hands to his sides to clutch them tightly behind his back. If no one else would actively discipline Joffrey, he didn't mind being the one to step in. Consciously, he knew he shouldn't have forced his hand on Joffrey but it had brought his nephew to a subsequent silence. "Tell her..." Tyrion jerked his head warningly, his mismatched eyes never leaving Joffrey's as the prince glowered insolently back at him, looking as though he wished to argue but was biting his tongue. "But first, you will go to Lord and Lady Stark and you will fall on your knees in front of them and tell them how very sorry you are, that you are at their service in their time of need, and that all your prayers are with them... do you understand?"
Tyrion couldn't tell if the boy's eyes were shining out of anger or had glossed over with tears of embarrassment. It didn't matter to him - the boy had yet to learn a lord's courtesy and Tyrion grimaced knowing that the fool in front of him was to be Robert's heir and he found himself pitying the realm. Gradually, Joffrey managed a faint nod.
Frowning, Tyrion held a hand to his ear. "Sorry, I didn't quite hear you."
"Y-yes," Joffrey bit out before he turned and quickly fled across the yard with his head bowed to escape him.
Tyrion watched after him and allowed himself a moment's thought. He doubted Joffrey would ever learn.
Grimacing when a shadow loomed over him as he had always dreamt the Wall would; Tyrion glanced over his shoulder to be met with the face of a snarling hound. He almost laughed when he realised the Hound had chosen to close his visor over his helm over his hideously burned face. "What do you want, Clegane?"
"The boy will remember that, Imp," the Hound warned him lowly.
Tyrion ignored the use of the nickname that many had chosen to call him, in the hopes that it would get under his skin and move him to anger. "I should imagine he will," Tyrion agreed, his eyes floating around the courtyard slowly as he tried to see if his brother was loitering anywhere in its midsts. "If he forgets, be a good dog and remind him..." He imagined if the Hound's visor was up, he would have seen the man's upturned lip. "Have you seen my brother this morning?"
The Hound snarled out a rasp, "With the queen."
Sighing aloud, Tyrion offered the Hound one last look of exasperation before leaving the cynical man to his brooding and making his way slowly towards the Guest House where he assumed his siblings were breaking their fast.
Despite the business of the yard and all bodies moving around him, Tyrion couldn't spot a single member of the Stark family amongst the people bustling around him or their household guard for that matter and that unsettled Tyrion all the more. He wondered if that meant terrible news but surmised they would surely be made aware if that was the case.
Entering the Guest House, Tyrion waddled through the doors of the morning room situated there to see his siblings sitting at a table with Myrcella, who was dressed in a deep verdant gown, emblazoned with golden stags to match her golden curls, talking quietly with Tommen, wearing a matching verdant doublet that met his white-blonde hair.
His brother was adorned in his Kingsguard armour but was as far away from the King as he could be. His helm was sat crudely atop the table, long forgotten with the familiar white cloak hanging over the bench lifelessly. The first thing his mismatched eyes made contact with was the plackart that sat across his chest, its gilded steel glinting in the morning's glow to catch the armour's matching pauldrons and vambraces. Tyrion mused to himself as he stared at the detailed scale armour as it hung from the pauldrons in intricate overlapping rows and the way to the tassets at his waist, making him wonder why it still resembled the dragons long gone and more so, why Robert still hadn't considered that fifteen years on. Still, his admiration for his brother lived on.
Tyrion didn't attempt to hide his eye roll when he saw the person next to Jaime visibly bristle at his presence.
Next to his brother, he saw his beloved sister. She had chosen a familiar gown of pine velvet with stripes of gold satin sewn into the waistline and across its bodice, intricately sewn lions danced on the material. Atop her golden head, Cersei's jewelled tiara sat glistening and at her neckline she wore her favoured golden necklace with a large emerald.
Slipping onto the bench opposite his siblings, Tyrion scooted Tommen along with a soft smile and climbed onto the bench. "I had thought Robert may have joined us," he sighed in thought, immediately reaching forwards for the nearest jug of beer even though he knew the lemon water would be more flavoursome than the Northern swill.
His sister cast her eyes at him in a glare. "He is with Lord Stark... he has taken their sorrow quite to heart." Cersei looked annoyed with the finality of her words, watching him closely.
Glancing over his shoulder, Tyrion waved over a servant. "Bread," he spoke quickly, his eyes scanning the table in thought. "Two of those little fish. Oh, and some bacon burnt black." The servant moved off swiftly and Tyrion looked around again. "We all know Robert has quite the large heart, sweet sister."
Surprisingly, it was Tommen who spoke first. "Has Bran awoken yet, Uncle?"
"I stopped by the boy's sick room last night," Tyrion replied quietly, recalling how distraught Lady Catelyn had been and how it had been her eldest daughter who had spoken to him. "The Maester was hopeful as there had been no change in his condition."
"I don't want Bran to die," Tommen announced fearfully and Tyrion smiled, not at his sweetness but at his polarity in relation to Joffrey.
Snorting, Jaime shot Cersei a quick look before smirking at him. "Seems to be an unlucky name." There were times he disliked Jaime when there was little his brother took seriously.
Tyrion nodded silently as the servant brought his plate over. He reached for a chunk of bread and sighed, "That may be so but still, Tommen's wish may yet come true." He bit the bread and began to chew, his eyes never leaving his sister as her own narrowed.
Cersei straightened in her chair. "What does that mean?"
Tyrion wondered why she seemed wary at the news. "Maester Luwin thinks the boy may yet live." Tyrion took a swig of his beer as both of the children sat on either side of him let out gasps of happiness. Tyrion would've chanced a look at them if he didn't get caught up in the glance his siblings shared which lasted no more than a split second that he may have missed it to look over at Myrcella's beautiful face.
"How cruel to let a child linger in such pain," Cersei let out quietly.
Jaime sat forward, pushing his weight onto his elbows. "What did the Maester say, dear brother?"
"If the boy was to die, he would've done so already." My brother has never fallen and I refuse to believe anything other than he was pushed from that height.
He felt soft fingers clutch at his wrist and he looked to his right to see Myrcella looking at him, "Will Bran get better, Uncle?"
Cupping her cheek, Tyrion smiled at his niece and sighed. "The boy will never walk again, sweetling... his fall shattered his legs and broke his back." He watched as her face fell at his words and it pulled at his heart. "But Maester Luwin believes Bran will live, he will heal but he won't be the same as before."
"So, the Maester believes the child will live..." Cersei repeated slowly, "How likely is that?"
"His sister believes it to be very likely," Tyrion offered with a shrug, crunching on his bacon with a thoughtful smile. "Part of me believes it's something to do with those wolves of theirs, keeping the boy alive, keeping watch over the boy."
His sister scowled then. "I will not stand to have any of them come South with us."
Tilting his head at her, Tyrion frowned. "Leaving so soon?"
"Not soon enough," Cersei spat back at him, fidgeting in her chair with a frown. "Leaving so soon?" she repeated slowly, her eyes slowly moving to meet his own again. "Don't tell me you're planning on staying here."
It would be a lie if he didn't admit to himself he had contemplated it, but he also knew their Father wouldn't approve of the decision. "Not quite," Tyrion took another sip from his mug of beer, "Benjen Stark will return to the Night's Watch, I had half a mind to go with him and see the Wall."
Jaime smirked, "I hope you're not thinking of taking the black, brother."
Tyrion couldn't stop his laugh as it left his lips, "And go celibate?" Tyrion snorted in his own amusement, bringing his hands down on the table. "The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock... No, I just want to stand at the very top and piss off the edge of the world."
Both children at the table burst into laughter at his words and Jaime snorted but Cersei was less than pleased as she abruptly stood, her irritation flashing across her face instantly. "The children don't need to hear your filth," Cersei spat in annoyance, "Tommen, Myrcella, come..." She quickly ushered the children from their sits to briskly abandon both Tyrion and Jaime.
Sighing, Jaime frowned in thought as he regarded Tyrion. "Stark will never leave Winterfell whilst his son lingers in the shadow of death."
Tyrion looked at his brother for a long moment. He couldn't understand why he seemed so bothered that the boy had survived his fall. "I doubt he will have much choice in it if Robert commands it so, there will be nothing he can do for his son either way," Tyrion explained with a soft finality.
"If it were my son, I would end his suffering."
Tyrion arched a brow at his words, "I dare you to suggest that to Lord Eddard, brother."
"Even if the boy does live, he will be a cripple," Jaime went on to explain, leaning closer to him now and Tyrion found himself annoyed, annoyed that his brother was so adamant about ending a child's suffering. "A grotesque. Give me a good, clean death any day."
Shrugging again, Tyrion held his brother's gaze for a moment and bit the inside of his cheek. "Well, speaking for the grotesques... I disagree completely. Death is so terribly final while life is full of possibilities," he went on to hope, "I hope the boy does wake, I would be very interested in hearing what he may have to say."
Jaime's smile died at that and that set Tyrion's suspicion alive like wildfire. "My sweet brother," Jaime started carefully, his eyes glowing dangerously. "There are times when you make me wonder whose side you are on."
Taking a mouthful of beer to wash down the mixture of bread and bacon in his mouth, Tyrion grinned at his brother who looked so suddenly uncomfortable in his seat. "My dear brother," Tyrion inclined his head, "You wound me... you know how much I love my family." He watched as Jaime held his gaze for a long time, silently watching him as though he was gearing up the courage to say something which was swept away when a door opening drew both of their attention, his brother's eyes drifting over his shoulder immediately.
Following Jaime's gaze, Tyrion glanced over his shoulder to see the eldest Stark daughter exiting from what he guessed was the kitchens, accompanied by her father's Captain of the Guard. Tyrion couldn't quite make out if Jaime was watching her or watching them together.
Tyrion found himself almost smiling as he took in the girl's appearance, knowing that if she had been an offspring of his own father, she wouldn't have been allowed to be so free in her choice of clothing. With her dark riding breeches, she wore a tunic of deep cobalt that had grey ancient runes stitched into it faintly with an onyx leather kidney belt at her waist that extended to the dagger hanging loosely with a dragon bone hilt at the apex of her thigh; across her collarbone, she wore a matching gorget atop her shoulders, etched with a direwolf's head at her thorax. Her black fur mantle was half thrown over her shoulders in a manner that made him feel as though she had had no time to herself. Her auburn hair had been pulled back into two Northern braids so it delicately revealed the tiredness lurking within her bright cerulean eyes.
Looking to his brother briefly, Tyrion smirked as he watched Jaime's eyes blatantly follow the young Stark daughter move across the hall, her voice echoing as she spoke with the man at her side. It seemed only then that her eyes finally settled upon them. Tyrion wondered what she thought of them, and whether she was as mesmerised by them as he was by herself (and, of course, his brother would agree).
Her eyes narrowed as though she was confused by something. "Would you find my father, Jory..." Eliana's movement faltered slightly when she realised they were watching her. She turned back to the man at her side, squeezed his arm and smiled slightly. "Tell him I will be with him as soon as I have checked on mother."
The man, who Tyrion had assumed was Jory by the unmistakable studded leather surcoat of the North and iron wrought steel shield of Stark against his back, sent her a sad smile in return and bowed his head. "Aye, milady," he spoke softly before moving away to exit the Guest House, leaving Eliana with Tyrion and his leering brother.
Eliana observed them quietly for a couple of long seconds before she finally made the decision to approach their table. Once there, she reached for the jug that had been brought out for Tyrion and filled his ale mug again before pouring herself a mug of lemon water, slipping onto the bench wordlessly beside him.
Tyrion looked over at Jaime but found that his brother was still staring at the woman who had joined them. Had he even blinked? "Lady Eliana," Tyrion called gently, drawing her attention to him as her eyes flickered upwards. He was wrong in his assessment that she was tired, she looked exhausted. "Has there been any change in your brother's condition?"
Tyrion knew it was the wrong question to ask by the kick dealt to his stunted legs by Jaime from across the table.
Despite his brother's apparent concern, she seemed unbothered by the question. A small victory over Jaime, he decided but he didn't miss the apparent unease.
From beside him, he heard Eliana suck in a sharp breath, and he turned to see her rub one of her palms over her face. "'Afraid not," she shook her head solemnly, a deep frown crossing her brow. "My mother hasn't left his bedside and has slept very little." The young woman looked so troubled that Tyrion instantly regretted his question of choice when he knew it would have brought her very little comfort.
He wasn't sure what possessed him at that moment, but he found him raising a hand to set it upon her shoulder in what he hoped was a small comfort. "He will wake, I've heard that you Starks come from a strong bloodline."
She sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I wish it were that easy to be reassured, my lord." Eliana looked conflicted as she met his gaze, "While I hope he does, my brother may never wake again let alone walk again, it is as simple as that."
Tyrion desperately wished he never asked the question now, sensing that the boy was at the heart of the family. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
Eliana nodded slowly, clenching her jaw as her frown deepened. She looked up after a few moments and looked ahead to meet the eyes of his brother and the mere action startled Jaime. "Otherwise, he'll be a cripple, isn't that right, Ser Jaime?" She was met with silence and wide eyes; Jaime sat bolt upright suddenly and his eyes grew wider. "But why should that make him any less of a person?"
Tyrion was certain she hadn't been in the hall when they had been speaking but that did little to put to bed the unease that stirred in his own chest.
Tyrion could see the sudden blaze of fury alight within those eyes of hers as she sat staring ahead at his brother, her jaw clenching as her own words settled into the air. Despite his brother's obvious worry, Tyrion also found he liked the girl's gall to confront his brother so unashamedly - more so, he found he rather liked how panicked it made his brother.
Jaime looked visibly uncomfortable, shifting in his seat to cause enough movement for his armour to clank loudly before he could eventually bring himself to speak. "Forgive me, my lady," his brother spoke lowly, his eyes never leaving the woman in front of him as he spoke and Tyrion wondered if Jaime truly meant the words after suggesting it would've been a mercy to put the boy out of his misery. "It was insensitive for me to say such a thing."
Tyrion looked to his brother and frowned; his frown deepened when he realised Jaime held no essence of insincerity in his voice as he spoke and that he sounded genuinely regretful. How unlike his brother...
"Yes, it was." Eliana didn't miss a beat as she spoke, her words have grown harsh to match the sudden change in her Northern cadence, making Jaime recoil at the sudden change in tone. "But you said it all the same... maybe in the Westerlands you would do such a thing to spare them pain but here in the North, we have different customs. We love our children."
"I only meant that I wouldn't know how to survive if I faced a life-changing circumstance of my own."
Her brow furrowed deeper, "Let's hope you never have to."
Jaime opened his mouth to speak again but a new voice rose into the air before he had the chance.
"Lia."
Tyrion followed her gaze when her head whipped around to see that they had been joined by another Stark - the eldest son - Robb? he wasn't too sure seeing as no one had bothered to introduce him properly to any of them, not that he was surprised.
If they hadn't been discussing something so serious, Tyrion would have allowed himself a laugh. He glanced between the two Stark siblings and marvelled at how similar they were and how it immediately reminded him of his own siblings. How ironic... The boy was handsome enough that Tyrion was certain girls would swoon (if they weren't already) over his growing stocky build, there was no denying him that. Tyrion put it down to him favouring their mother's side, the familiar thick auburn hair with terrifyingly blue eyes. Much like his sister, Tyrion could tell that Robb was very much Eddard Stark's son by the white velvet surcoat he wore over his leathers, decorated with the familiar direwolf - they both took pride in their father's heritage, something that Eliana screamed at him each time he saw her.
Looking to the Stark's boy side, Tyrion's eyes bulged when he saw the direwolf he was frequently accompanied by. He sucked in a sharp breath as its yellow eyes watched him closely from where it lingered at its master's side. Moving out from behind her brother, Eliana made a soft noise when the second direwolf padded closer than the other to their table. The second wolf had thick raven fur with a bushy tail, standing taller than its litter mate, inching closer towards Eliana's outstretched hand. Tyrion was utterly fascinated, watching as its muzzle bumped her palm gently, the wolf's deep juniper green eyes glowing.
Rising from where she had been sat, Eliana looked to Tyrion and gave a soft nod of her head. "Lord Tyrion," her eyes trailed over to Jaime and he saw the way her gaze hardened considerably at his brother. "Ser Jaime." Stepping around the bench, she met her brother quickly as the wolf returned to her side eagerly and the pair of them briskly left the Guest House in a gust of low murmurs.
Setting his palms down against the table, Tyrion let out a soft sigh and allowed himself a laugh. Eliana Stark was a breath of fresh air, and he found he was rather enjoying each interaction he had with her. "She's fierce that one," he remarked thoughtfully, a faint smile crossing his lips. He looked at Jaime to see his brother frowning deeply but Tyrion found he didn't care. "I like her."
Jaime scoffed, glowering down at his glinting helm and contemplating the mug of beer before him. "Fierce is the wrong word, brother." Jaime seemed utterly perturbed by the woman, rattled to the point where the man he had known all his life was suddenly so different by being so easily riled. "She is as stubborn as a mule."
Tyrion nodded, finding no disagreement in his brother's words but only finding it odd that he allow himself to be moved to such irritation by a woman he had only known for four days. It made very little sense but then he surmised that Eliana Stark was like so very few women in the Southron kingdoms. "I think you'll find it's the wolf's blood." Tyrion knew that the Starks were said to possess such a thing but he wasn't sure if Eliana was impulsive or reckless, he had yet to determine that of her.
"I thought it was because Starks don't like Lannisters."
Nodding slowly, Tyrion held Jaime's gaze as he finished the last of his beer. "That might be true but they're also known for their wolf's blood..." Something in Tyrion's bones made him wonder whether Eliana was an amalgamation of all those traits whilst embodying the temperament of her Father and would only act if she was to be pushed to do so with no alternative. "Both her uncle and aunt died from it."
"Let's hope it doesn't return her the favour."
The Lord's Solar, Winterfell
EDDARD
...
It was quiet in his solar, as it has been for the past three days. It was unusual that his children didn't occupy the room that had grown oddly chillsome in their absence despite the fire roaring in the chest of its hearth but he had forbidden them, seldom as he did. Just as his lady wife had forbidden them from Bran's bedside.
It wasn't their fault, and if he was truly honest with himself, he was unaccustomed to Catelyn's grief-stricken behaviour. Her demand had upset his eldest children in particular (who had commented that it was simply because Bran was his wife's favourite child) but who was he to demand his wife step aside? Instead, he had let her have her way.
He, however, needed time to think.
Perhaps that was why he had found his solitude in the refuge of his solar - that was until Robert had demanded entry. The King had barely left him alone following Bran's fall, and he was forced to suffer him again.
Robert's insistence was beginning to get the better of him. He had been offered a responsibility that was in equal comparison to the realm itself - but it was the very last thing he wanted - whilst the King eats, the Hand takes the shit.
When did the air grow heavy?
Having yet to turn around and face the man in question, Eddard could already feel the burden of his eyes at his back as they had been since Robert had disturbed his peace. Eddard knew his desire to remain undisturbed wouldn't last long; Robert had let himself into his solar, ushering Jory from the door to make himself comfortable at his writing desk, lounging back in the chair all the while he remained hovering at the window that overlooked the courtyard.
Air. He blinked hard, his jaw slackening. He needed air.
Eddard gave a deep sigh. How long had he been staring out of the window? He reached up to throw open the nearest high narrow pane of glass, clasping the window's latch tightly as it swung away from him, eager to let some air into the solar if it meant he could think better.
"When was the last time you slept?" the King said after a long silence and Eddard heard the chair he had seated himself in creak heavily as he shifted his weight.
He scarcely had time to sleep. He had too much to consider… no doubt if he had taken the time to be with Catelyn as he should have, Robert would have demanded his presence all the same.
His remaining time in Winterfell was running out and there was still much to do. It was his worry that had begun to eat away at his insides; what would become of Jon? Would Catelyn ever forgive him? Did Eliana know how much she was valued? Would Bran ever wake again? What Lord of Winterfell would Robb grow to be? His consciousness called out to him then: Robb's not ready. His jaw twitched, there may never be a right time for the boy to be ready, now must be a good time as any.
There was still so much he wished to do and Robert had uprooted it all.
Eddard was silent for a moment, considering whether to answer Robert's question when he was certain he already knew the answer. Had he slept? He could scarce find time to sleep when his wife sat, broken, at his son's bedside.
"Forgive me, Ned…" Robert started slowly, his voice distant in Eddard's ear as he cleared his throat but he could hear the impatience lacing its tone all the same. "But I need a Hand, not a shadow of one."
Eddard bristled at that. The South was the last place he wished to be, and the Hand of the King was the last honour he wanted.
"We must leave for King's Landing soon."
The realm wouldn't pause to wait for a boy of ten to wake and neither would its King.
His scowl deepened as he continued to gaze out of the window, his calloused hands curling around the windowsill. He still found it hard to come to terms with the reality that Bran had fallen, his son who had been so sure-footed since he had been able to climb… he should have taken the boy hunting with them to prevent the mess they found themselves in.
"… Winter won't wait for you, little brother!"
Eddard's eyes trailed to the courtyard below, spying Jon with Rickon as his youngest son slashed at the air with the wooden sword he clutched between his small fingers. He wished to smile but only grim thoughts circled his mind as he watched the pair of them. Bran wished to be of the Kingsguard… Raising his practice sword, Rickon made to run towards Jon but met the other battered sword clumsily.
"Seven hells," he thought he heard Robert mutter under his breath quietly from behind him. "I am sorry, truly."
Eddard blinked, then took a deep breath. "He was always sure-footed before." His own voice sounded foreign to him at that moment.
"The boy will wake," Robert told him.
Eddard wanted to believe his words as he said them, he wanted to go to the Godswood and pray as he had done so for his recovery as Catelyn prayed from his bedside. He willed himself to believe Robert's words despite how hard it was. "If he does, I will not be here to see it," said Eddard firmly, his eyes not leaving his children in the courtyard below.
"I need your opinion on something, Ned," the King said after another silence.
"Your Grace," Eddard began respectfully, his frown deepening across his brow if that was even possible. "You are the King."
"Have you chosen a suitor for Eliana yet?" Robert asked carefully.
Eddard tore his gaze away from the courtyard in an instant to round on Robert. So, was this what his presence had been seeking these past days? Eddard tried to will himself to be angry with the King despite knowing that he would have wished to influence it somehow. He would not stand for his interference in Eliana's betrothal, he couldn't, not after promising his daughter she could marry for love despite Catelyn's active argument against love being the death of duty and to remind their daughter of that duty.
Eddard couldn't give her what she truly wanted, but he could give her that at least and now Robert sought to take it away.
"Not this now, Robert," Eddard interrupted, not wanting to hear him finish the thought.
Robert's eyes were watching him closely and he frowned, wondering why he had grown the sudden interest with whom his daughter would eventually marry. Perhaps it was Robert trying to offer advice in finding a suitor but he doubted it...
The King reached across his desk for a jug of ale and poured himself a drink before taking a long mouthful. "Come on, Ned," he breathed once he had set his mug down, droplets of ale trickling down through his beard. "The girl should be married off by now." Eddard felt a muscle in his jaw twitch at the way his friend addressed his daughter. "Why do you keep her here?"
"Your Grace..." Eddard spoke slowly, hoping to find the words that would keep the situation of his daughter's marriage under his firm hand. "Robert, she's not ready."
Robert stared at him incredulously, pushing back on his chair violently. "Not ready?" he repeated almost dumbly, his face contorting in subsequent confusion as his eyes lingered on Eddard questioningly. "Is that why you allowed that farce of hers? To be courted by Mace Tyrell's pansies and a Dornish pit of Martell vipers?" Eddard wasn't sure if he sounded exasperated or irked by it; either way, Eddard found he quickly didn't like where the conversation was going. "I never thought I would see the day that Ned Stark would be ruled by his daughters! His wife, maybe, but not one rebellious daughter!"
"Your-"
Robert's mouth gave a sudden bitter twist as Eddard went to speak. "Don't 'Your Grace' me, you know I hate it," Robert's face hardened as he interrupted his friend quickly, waving his hand impatiently before he scoffed. "She is old enough for a betrothal..."
He would be dumb if he thought Eliana would be unbothered by Robert interfering with any future marriage for her, even if she said otherwise, any frustration would be dealt his way. He desperately didn't want that to happen. "Robert-" Eddard started, closing his eyes in his own frustration but whatever words he would have spoken, died in his mouth as Robert interrupted him yet again.
"Renly."
Then it dawned on him. Of course. Eddard barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the name of Robert's youngest brother; not only did Robert wish to join their Houses by marrying Sansa and Joffrey to one another but he now also have Eliana wedded to Renly... He clenched his jaw in annoyance again. "Renly?" echoed Eddard, taking a slight step back as he sent Robert a pointed stare, finding himself at a sudden loss for words.
Eddard could feel his patience wearing thin. Was this the other reason behind Robert coming so far North? To ask for him to become his Hand and to propose not one but two betrothals as well? It was something that Eddard would rather not contemplate at all seeing as Robert was seemingly giving him little choice in the matter.
He was trapped whether he liked it or not; if he refused, there was the slight chance that Robert would see it as an insult (he doubted but there was always that fear). If he accepted, there was a high chance he would encounter his daughter's wrath. Eddard wasn't sure which he feared more.
Robert rolled his eyes and let out a great bellowing laugh. "You hadn't thought of that, had you?" he snorted, his laughter rattling the solar's walls.
Eddard wondered if he could see the unease as it settled on his own shoulders, fixing his feet firmly where he stood as he became eerily still. His words failed him then, finding that whilst he should feel honoured at such a thing, he felt an odd sense of guilt - perhaps it was a pang of guilt in knowing that whatever argument he presented Robert with would be battered away like a fly, a futile rebuke if ever there was one. Would she ever forgive him?
His laughter eventually quietened and Robert took another gulp of his ale. He looked more sober, a wistful look crossing his face fleetingly before regarding him with an amused glance. "She will make a fine Lady of Storm's End."
Eddard frowned, was he meant to agree?
Robert pursed his lips, bringing up a palm to stroke his beard in thought. "I will announce it to the royal court once we return to King's Landing," he affirmed before leaning back in the chair and eventually rising to his feet, following the desk's edge with the tips of his fingers.
Eddard propelled himself forward at that, starting towards Robert with a sudden surge of frustration, unable to stop to the violent shake of his head. "Robert-"
The same hand as before came up to interrupt him again.
When it dropped, Robert, thankfully, didn't look displeased but Eddard could see the annoyance floating in the depths of his gaze. "Let it be done, Ned," he started with a small smile. "It's a dangerous thing to allow her to choose. Rather a Baratheon over a Tyrell or Martell yet." Even from where he stood, Eddard could see the shocking blue sparkle of Robert's eyes.
So, it did come down to pride... Eddard mused silently, feeling his frustration boiling more fervently as he held Robert's stare. He obviously didn't see the other houses worth of his daughter so the only feasible way to go was to marry her to his youngest, spirited brother. Something about it made Eddard's stomach twinge.
"She isn't a trophy, Robert," Eddard bit out begrudgingly and he knew his voice sounded more bitter than he would have liked. "Not some woman—" He stopped abruptly at the words he had a word to slip through in the heat of the moment. He had allowed his emotions to take over, obscuring his sense of reason.
He paled at his own words, finding the conversation all too familiar from years before... when things had been simpler, when life was far less complicated and he wasn't faced with the prospect of going South to serve as Hand of the King. It made him feel so very old.
Eddard held Robert's gaze and saw as his eyes softened suddenly as though he realised what he had meant.
He had treated Lyanna as such, he would not allow Eliana to be treated the same. They are two different people.
Robert was silent for a long while, a pensive look falling across his face. Eddard wasn't sure he had ever known his friend to be quiet for long periods of time; Robert had always been a man of action, charging forwards with little thought of the consequences that would rupture in his wake.
"It will be a great honour for her to marry the King's brother," Robert said after a while, his gaze open and oddly inquisitive.
Eddard knew it would be impossible to convince him otherwise but that didn't mean he thought it was a good idea either. He wasn't entirely sure Renly would hold his daughter's best interests at heart either, and he was also certain that she would eat him alive. Eddard ground his teeth together in thought, another deep frown settling across his brow. It wasn't a decision he could make and neither was it something he would be able to argue against the King; he would have to trust his daughter to make the right decision. "You best hope she agrees to it." The pang of guilt grew within his chest.
"You're her father and I'm her King," Robert ground out, seeing Eddard's hesitation. "We have the final say."
Eddard shook his head, "Robert, you must not do this."
Robert stared at him incredulously, his brow itching higher as he neared him in a few large strides. "No one tells me what to do! I am the King!" he ground out, but there was no real bite in his cursing, only blatant fondness.
And I'm a father who promised his daughter... Eddard sighed deeply, bowing his head. No matter how he argued, there was little point in fighting Robert. Sheer pointlessness, his mind reminded him softly. "You are the King," Eddard agreed with a slow nod and he continued to hold Robert's gaze firmly, angling his neck as the bearded man loomed over him. "But she is my daughter, my daughter, who I love more than anything. I want for her to be happy..." he paused slowly, choosing his next words carefully. "I want for her betrothal to be a wise one-"
"Wise?!"
Eddard almost winced at how high his voice grew.
"- One that she chooses," Eddard finished, talking over Robert as he spluttered.
"I'll tell you what's wise!" the King roared, "Your daughter will marry my brother and become my good-sister! She will be protected! She will be loved! And it will be the end to your headache!"
Eddard narrowed his eyes and tilted his eyes softly to the side as he regarded Robert, "If she agrees."
He wouldn't force Eliana to marry anyone if she didn't want to; he wouldn't resign her to a world of unhappiness that he was certain Lyanna would have been confined to if she had lived and if she had married Robert, who had known so little about her and yet claimed he loved her. Those mere thoughts did rouse a wince from him.
But Robert was barely listening and certainly wasn't paying him any attention to witness that wince.
"Renly is a fine match!"
"You are the king," Eddard agreed to his earlier comment, ready to brace himself for another onslaught of Robert's childlike annoyance. "Whilst I understand why you wish to betroth Eliana to Renly, you must act wisely... do it wisely."
Robert's eyes narrowed, his arms folding over his ever-expanding chest. "Renly is a fine match, Ned... and you know it."
Eddard sighed, conflicted. Renly was a better match than he or Catelyn may have hoped for but that didn't make him right for Eliana. He was stuck for words - Robert would fashion argument after argument no matter how he tried to rebuke him - and he knew his daughter would do her duty with little fuss no matter if she felt otherwise.
"I knew you would agree-"
It was Eddard who interrupted first this time, "But, Eliana has to agree to the match."
Robert laughed, "You will speak with your daughter, and then we shall announce it during the tourney's feast!" he continued to laugh, slapping Eddard on his shoulder as he joined him at the window.
Eddard rolled his eyes, "The what?" he hesitated before adding, dreading to think on whatever diabolical idea Robert had thought up. "What tourney?"
"To celebrate your appointment as my Hand."
Eddard visibly bristled at that, his back straightening while his stare steeled to look ahead as his jaw clenched, his eyes reflecting the hardness of his homeland. "No, Robert." He could think of nothing worse. He didn't want to be the Hand let alone celebrate it.
Robert swallowed another mouthful of wine, "Shut up, Ned. It's done," he chuckled before looking ahead to the courtyard below and pausing.
Frowning, Eddard followed his stare and blanched when he realised what Robert had seen; below in the courtyard, Jon was practising with Eliana, their exchange of flurries coming fast and powerful as the pair of them danced around the yard together with Rodrik shouting when necessary, blows and parries being exchanged beautifully.
"Gods, Ned," the King whispered hoarsely, reaching out to clasp his forearm suddenly. "You've raised a fine woman," he added quietly, his eyes following her as she moved, glued to every step almost as if he were afraid to blink and she would disappear.
She isn't her, Eddard wanted to say but chose otherwise. Despite himself, Eddard reached out to grasp Robert's hand as it sat on his arm and smiled, unable to do anything else but agree.
A wrap on the door came then, hard, three strikes, evenly paced. Both of their eyes moved to the entrance, but it was Robert who called out first and Eddard could hear the unashamed irritation in his deep voice as it bellow, spit flying from his lips. "Who dares interrupt the King whilst he speaks with his beloved Hand?!"
The door opened slowly to reveal the familiar shine of the Kingsguard armour until Eddard's met the arrogant gaze of Jaime Lannister, his flaxen hair poking out from beneath his helm as he peered around the door. "I beg your pardon, Your Grace," the Kingslayer spoke curtly as Robert waved him into the room, retreating from the window.
"What do you want, Kingslayer?" he heard Robert grumble as he returned, making his way back towards the desk he had come to occupy as his own.
Eddard grimaced, gripping the window ledge once more as his eyes found his daughter. How in all the Seven Hells would he change Robert's mind?
Training Yard, Winterfell
ELIANA
...
She doubted her father would be mad.
Robb had easily swayed her without much resistance on her part to keep their father waiting a little longer for the promise of swordplay - Eliana was certain that he knew that she would find it difficult to deny him.
Perhaps it would forever be that way when faced with the opportunity to spar against her brothers who were so free to choose what they took up their time with. She had to fight to be given that courtesy.
A part of her, guiltily, hoped that this would also rouse a momentary distraction from all the horror that had befallen them in the last day… no matter how fleeting. She would thank Robb after she knocked his arse to the dirt, though.
Her brother took no pride in disguising his eagerness as he adjusted his training leathers, moving to quickly set his steel gorget around his neck and over his studded jerkin with a grin before finally removing his sword belt to set aside next to the practice swords.
That was a small comparison between her brothers and herself… whilst they mostly fought for competition, she fought solely to defend herself. Eliana knew that was the reason she rarely relented when asked to go a round of sparring; her mother wasn't proud of the skill she had acquired despite her father having incited it in quiet moments (so, she only sought to practice with Jory or Alyn), forbidding Arya from abandoning her sewing needle for swordplay. Mother is simply old-fashioned, she had cooed to her younger sullen sister when she had been forbidden by their mother but in truth, she knew she didn't want to lose another daughter to her husband.
Unfastening her mantle and folding it to place atop the training post, Eliana peeled off her belt and eyed her brother curiously. She couldn't contain her smile as she watched Robb busy himself around the training yard, grasping two beaten training swords from the rack. "You ready?" Robb called out to her, grinning widely.
Sighing, Eliana only rolled her eyes as she sent him a glance over her shoulder before pulling her black leather brigandine over herself, pulling at the straps until they were comfortable across her chest. "I had hoped that me going away for three moons would encourage you to grow some patience," she laughed, re-lacing her vambraces deftly as she turned around to watch Robb chuck her a practice sword at her feet. "Obviously not."
"I want to see what that snake taught you."
If it had been anyone other than her brother who had referred to Oberyn as a snake, she would've bitten back in rebuke and blind rage but Robb was jesting, trying to goad her to rush. He was right, though: she had learnt a great deal from Oberyn among other things.
Reaching down to grasp the sword from where it lay cold on the ground, Eliana clutched its hilt tightly and frowned at the blunted edge. "And yet, you still wish to use Rodrik's toy swords…" She tested its weight and gave a playful swipe through the air, "Anyone would think you were scared."
Robb laughed before dropping into stance, "Not scared, I don't quite trust you with a real sword, that's all." He grasped the hilt of his sword and leaned back with it raised, watching her as she turned her body sidewards, arm poised elegantly.
Eliana found herself laughing, "Coward."
It started out slow and a part of her was glad until Robb began to deal his blows, predictable but sudden powerful flurries of swipes and jabs through the air. She stepped away, taking deliberate steps that kept her just out of his sword's range.
She smiled. His footwork had gotten better: it was a dance between them and they had always known the steps. There was no doubt he had trained hard in her absence, and her brother's natural skill was unparalleled. She laughed when their blades met finally.
Robb struck downwards, aiming for her legs which made Eliana smirk as she brought her sword down quickly enough to deflect the blow, increasing the pressure on his sword too forcing him back. Once their blades escaped each other, she went to bring her blade down on his shoulder but he parried her quickly and spun out of the way.
He came swiping at her again with a complex manoeuvre in an attempt to force her back but Eliana was thankful that out of the pair of them, she was far lighter on her feet and danced out of the way while he tried. Eliana sidestepped, avoiding a blow meant for her shoulder and she heard Robb curse under his breath as he whirled around to face her again, sword up and ready.
She ducked and dodged his blade as he continued to swipe at her.
Their blades met again and again until sweat was pouring down both of their brows and their breaths were coming out in harsh pants. Eliana pressed her advantage and barrelled into him so her blade met his to drive down until Robb's buckled and he was kneeling in the muck they had churned up.
"Yield," Eliana bit out through clenched teeth, pressing down on his sword with her own.
Robb flashed a grin, choosing not to speak as he grimaced and pushed her back away from him, the force of the movement knocking her sword from her hands to clatter somewhere in the distance. She ducked again and she disappeared from view.
He turned quickly, searching for his opponent only to pause when he met her gaze.
Robb's bright eyes trailed downwards slowly and he froze, an eyebrow arching upwards in confusion. His sword, not made from Valyrian steel and thankfully blunted, was trapped between her hands. Eliana was pressing hard against the metal, hard enough so he couldn't move it.
Stunned into shock, Robb faltered in his movements and wavered before his feet were taken out from beneath him and he hit the ground under him hard.
Eliana reached down and grabbed his sword, moving towards Robb and holding it a little way away from his throat with a shadow of a smirk fluttering across her lips. They stared at each other before she lowered it and offered him a hand. "Do you yield?"
Cautiously, not knowing if it was some trick or she was being nice to him, he took her hand and allowed her to haul him to his feet. Soon after, his sword was returned to him and she stepped back. She watched as Robb eyed her curiously, "What was that?"
"What I learned," She announced as though it was obvious, placing her hand on his shoulder.
Robb opened his mouth to speak but his words never had the chance to leave as another voice, sprauncy and sharp, filled the air first as they both turned their heads immediately. "Excellent show... may I have a go?"
It was Joffrey who had spoken and if Eliana had been simple-minded, she imagined herself grimacing at his mere presence but thankfully, she was able to hold herself courteously and settled for biting the insides of her cheeks. She found it difficult to take him seriously if she was honest with herself as he loitered with his hands pressed behind his back, his silly coronet atop his head.
Glancing over at her brother, she saw Robb suck in a sharp sigh and huff silently and sent Eliana an apologetic look before she moved to retreat away with the intention to find their Father finally.
"Not with you," Joffrey laughed at Robb, shaking his head as he folded his arms over his surcoat with a smirk. Eliana saw he was observing her as she turned around to look over at him with a steady gaze, leaning back against his right foot as he drummed his fingers against his forearms. Did he want to spar with her? It couldn't get any worse. "With her."
Eliana couldn't think of anything worse. Not only had Joffrey interrupted a moment she scarcely got with her brother but he was also now requesting for her to spar with him. She found she could barely take him seriously in his pathetic coronet and blonde curls, almost pouting in his golden and crimson surcoat and found it incredibly hard not to rebuke him.
Robb, however, did. She briefly allowed herself to look over at Robb and immediately sensed his annoyance by the sudden appearance of his furrowed brow. "My Prince-"
Joffrey may as well have swatted Robb away as if he was a fly, rolling his eyes with a great sigh of annoyance. "And let us use real swords." He persisted to ignore Robb, his eyes staring deathly at Eliana.
Eliana already knew what a risk it was to deny a Crown Prince of his desires and silently resigned herself to the fact that the boy in front of her with his unwavering smirk would want to spar with her for one reason alone - she had bested her brother. She also doubted it was so he could see whatever skill she may have possessed first-hand but so he could take some pleasure in besting her. Part of her desperately wished to deny him of it.
Robb, despite his unease, may as well have been reading her mind - if only his resistance would appease Joffrey. "I don't think that is wise, My Prince."
Joffrey scoffed, "Gods, you really are a coward."
Trying to deny him wouldn't be worth the hassle. Eliana sighed and gave a faint nod of her head, "It's fine, Robb," she called over her shoulder, setting aside the practice sword to then reach for a breastplate from the rack and haul it over her shoulders, repositioning her forget.
Grinning widely, Joffrey practically jumped up into the air before wheeling around his heel sharply. "Hound!" The young Prince marched off towards the tall shadow that stood at the edge of the practice grounds which Robb assessed as the opportunity to round on Eliana.
Spurting forwards in panic, Eliana sighed when he grasped her forearm roughly and yanked her back. "Lia, what are you doing..." he looked at her as though she had grown three heads, gesturing towards the armour she had pulled over her body. She was a fool if she couldn't see his evident worry.
Eliana shrugged, gesturing for him to fasten the straps of her breastplate. "He's the Prince," Eliana commented quietly, hearing him mutter quietly under his breath as he secured the plate to her front and back, turning to grab two battered greaves and kneeling to wrap them around her shins. "He gets what he wants..." she finished, her eyes wandering over to her sword where it sat quite forgotten.
"He's too highly strung."
"I doubt he is gifted with a sword, Robb," Eliana reasoned, looking up to see the Hound shove a breastplate over the Prince's head hurriedly. When she looked at Joffrey, she didn't see someone to be feared - she saw someone to be weary of but only for what power they believed they had. "He is naive which means he's predictable...he won't touch me." She watched him scowl when the Hound smacked his breastplate and shoved him away back towards them.
Sighing again, Eliana took her scabbard into her hands and unsheathed her sword as it emitted a low hiss. She grasped the hilt tightly, feeling the intricately etched runes along the pommel as she stared at Joffrey, watching him near her. Part of her wondered what he truly aimed to get from sparring with her...
Drawing his own sword, Joffrey smirked as he spun back around to face her. "Don't weep when I'll knock you on the ground." The boy had stepped backwards, holding out his sword towards her.
Perhaps it was normal for Crown Princes to believe they were so entitled... Eliana sucked in a deep breath and lowered herself into her fighting stance and push any other thoughts aside. "I'm sure I won't, My Prince." She also wondered if he thought she would let him best her because of who he was as well, which no matter all sense of propriety, she wouldn't do unless it was a fair fight and he rightfully deserved the victory - Prince or not.
They began to circle and Eliana wondered if Joffrey possessed any talent. Relenting, Eliana made the first strike with little desire to draw out the fight longer than it needed to be. Joffrey blocked her initial attack but staggered back under the sheer force of it. He obviously hadn't anticipated her strength.
The mere reaction roused a chuckle from Eliana.
She brandished her sword with both of her palms, putting all her weight forwards onto her right leg before moving to charge again, concerning him under a brutal storm of blows as the shattering uproar of steel against steel rang out into the air.
Joffrey swerved to his left, deflecting just in time and swayed backwards with a surprised pant that turned into a pained grunt of frustration.
"Getting tired, already?" she mocked him after another couple of countermoves, and when he took a step back and struggled to catch his breath, he scowled at her finally and let a grimace cross his face.
At the reaction, her heart suddenly leapt into her throat and Eliana pressed her lips together before she let out an irritated huff through her nose.
Eliana wouldn't allow him a single reprieve - he didn't desire that - and with that, she continued her assault and attacked his right side which caused him to draw back; she pressed forwards, her sword thrusting as she lunged forward. Soon enough, they fell into a brisk rhythm of side-stepping, blocking, and attacking to the point Eliana could feel her patience getting the better of her.
Joffrey came at her, the sweeping arcs of his attack cutting through the air as he tried to drive her back. She caught his blow and ducked under it his sword hit the ground with a great thunk.
Pressing her advantage as she had done similarly with Robb, Eliana pushed into him with her sword and drove his sword down stupendously to the point he buckled under the assault, gritting his teeth as he fought against it. Sending him away, Eliana smiled as Joffrey came at her with another flurry of attacks, all messy and full of rage.
Eliana blocked each of his blows as he dealt them, rearing back on her feet before dealing a harsh blow to his side. He stumbled back with a wince and Eliana hoped that would have been the end of it.
The boy, in his desperation to avoid being bested, struck out again with an erratic lunge full of his entire weight. Eliana blocked the move again and twisted to the side, allowing his momentum to carry him forward so he stumbled on his feet. Whipping around, Joffrey jolted forward again and sent another blow her way.
Eliana beat him back again, giving enough force to comfortably block his flurry of attacks smoothly.
The pounding of their swords reverberated through the air, causing both of their arms to shake at the sheer impact. Eliana persisted with her attacks, whirling through parry after parry as she sent them Joffrey's way with the intent to startle him until she came down hard on his sword again. "Do you yield?" she asked, evaluating his evident frustration and anticipating he would make further mistakes and jeopardise her ability to actually cause him harm.
"No," he spat back.
Applying more pressure to his sword, Eliana rejoiced in the anger as it laced his facial features, taking satisfaction in the shaking of his arms as she pushed down more. She clenched her jaw and weighed out her options before quickly releasing his blade and sending a quick swipe of her legs to his unsteady ones. His breathing was ragged and shallow, an unworthy opponent.
One final move and he was falling - perhaps, not the honourable choice but Eliana was certain he wouldn't stop until she let him win. As Joffrey fell, his sword flew from his hand, clattering to the ground. Bringing her sword overhand, Eliana held it to his neck and contemplated pressing it lightly against the skin before reconsidering. "Do you yield?" she repeated calmly.
Joffrey hesitated then, glancing around frantically to see the Hound stood too far away and Robb with his arms folded. Impassively, Eliana set her muddy boot atop his sternum to keep him down as she peered over him. "Do you yield?" She towered over him, her own blade inching closer and closer as she saw him begin to crack.
Eventually and reluctantly, he nodded: "I yield, I yield!" he cried out, moving to raise his arms up into the air and Eliana stepped back slowly but still stood over him and refused to move until he sheathed his sword. Joffrey slowly dragged himself out of the muck and shoved his sword back into its scabbard stubbornly.
Sheathing her sword, Eliana watched Joffrey closely before moving to release the straps of her breastplate with a glower. What had Joffrey sought to achieve? Setting the hulking piece of steel aside, she moved to pull off the greaves hurriedly and snuck a look over her shoulder again to see the Hound push Joffrey along with harsh smacks to his back.
She continued to stare after them, tying her scabbard around her waist quietly as Robb took the armour from her and returned it to its usual spot. Joffrey was too far away for her to hear what was being said but his body language left little to the imagination: the Young Prince was stood, animatedly throwing his arms up into the air in fury as he pointed and waved his fist around.
She wondered if those he sparred with simply allowed him to win instead of earning it. Eliana rubbed a palm over her face and sighed.
"Lia, the Kingslayer is staring at you."
Looking at her brother, Eliana saw the scowl on Robb's usually bright face and mirrored his frown before following his gaze to see that what he had said was right. Across the far side of the yard and propped against a wall, Jaime Lannister stood with his arms folded across his chest. He was standing fully adorned in his armour of the Kingsguard, the sun dancing off the gilded steel of his breastplate. She narrowed her eyes, certain that he wore that infamous smirk of his.
That was the second time she had caught him staring at her and she was almost certain that it wouldn't be the last either. A part of her wanted to go marching over to him to confront him for staring, push him to the silent argument she could feel growing in the pit of her stomach but an even bigger part of herself was worried - worried about why he stared after her, why she could feel his eyes on her in quiet moments. It bothered her more than she would freely admit.
It wasn't a spectacle that she knew how to use a sword, or how hard she had worked at it until the weapon became part of her arm whenever she used it - it was about survival, as it had always been. If there was a way she could defend herself freely without relying on anyone else, she made sure she was well-versed in it - she refused to allow herself to become like all the other women within Westeros, reliant on men to rule their worlds and protect them at all costs. That was all that there was to it.
She couldn't bring herself to care - anyone from the South would be moved to shock to learn that a Northern daughter knew how to fight - and if that was how it was to be, then Eliana saw nothing wrong with shocking them all the more. That was the least of her concerns. Jaime Lannister could watch her with every ounce that pleased him, he could stare at her until the day crows pecked out his eyes but she would never let him bother her. "Let him stare," she brushed it off finally, rolling her eyes in annoyance.
Some part of her wanted to challenge him, to rebuke him from his outright gall in watching her at every chance he seemed to get - it confused her and she wasn't entirely sure why she had become the centre of his observations - she wanted to press further into whatever reason he seemed to have to want to watch her. Pushing against the wooden bench, Eliana folded her arms gently across her chest and drew her lips between her teeth.
Narrowing her eyes, she inclined her head slightly as she watched him realise, the subtle wave of surprise settling across his face when their eyes finally met. She almost smirked.
From her side, Robb shifted on his feet uncomfortably before chucking his cloak beside her on the bench. Eliana's eyes flickered to his face and she could already see the silent angry warming there, his fists coiling. "I'll go and speak to him-" He made to move off but she clasped his forearm tightly and drew back to her with a small scoff, shaking her head.
The mere thought was enough to make her roll her eyes. The last thing she needed was Robb believing he was the heroic brother and coming to her aid when she didn't need him to but confronting another man who had done nothing wrong was far from what they both needed at that moment. Eliana let go of his arm slowly, holding her brother's gaze firmly. "Robb-"
"Eliana."
The pair of them whipped around quickly to see that their father had made his way over to them and for a second Eliana went into panic mode, knowing that he had asked to see her and she had kept him waiting longer than necessary. She blanched, bowing her head as she met his eyes quickly, silently noting that he didn't seem displeased. "Father, I'm sorry-"
Her father smiled, "Don't worry, Sweetling... you best not let Robert hear that you bested Joffrey."
Robb laughed, unable to stop at his father's words which only made Eliana roll her eyes. "It wasn't difficult, father, did you see him?" he smirked, wrapping an arm over Eliana's shoulder and pressing a kiss to her brow, "Our Lia didn't even get to have a proper fight like she does with Jon and I."
"I don't think he will ever hear the end of it," Eddard agreed with a soft chuckle, and Eliana couldn't help but imagined what on Earth would Robert's reaction be like when he did hear that his son and heir got bested by a woman. Their father cleared his throat, pulling both of their attention back to him. "Right, Robb..." he looked over at her brother and he sobered up almost immediately. "I have just left your mother with Bran but I need to speak with Lia."
Nodding, Robb withdrew from Eliana slowly but not without giving her shoulder a soft squeeze. "I'll go to her, don't worry." He moved away, picking up his practice sword and started towards the Great Keep with a renewed purpose.
"Good lad."
Once Robb was gone, Eliana looked back over to her father and sighed, "I'm sorry..." she spoke quietly, knowing he was probably restless having waited around for her. "I've missed Robb and it was hard to say no." She had missed her brother terribly and spending some time with him filled a whole in her heart she didn't know she had; she would have done the same again in a heartbeat if it meant they got some time to themselves where they didn't have to think about the reality of their worlds being torn apart.
Her father shook his head, "Sweetling, it's okay," he smiled softly and Eliana knew he truly didn't mind that she wanted to spend time with Robb.
"What is it you wanted to see me about?" Eliana asked with a frown, still feeling the lingering eyes of Jaime Lannister following her.
Eddard's fond expression dissipated then into a grim one. "We can't speak here."
The pit of Eliana's stomach dropped.
She wasn't sure if she could deal with any more bad news following Bran's fall but she found she was too afraid to ask. Instead, she only nodded and followed her father silently as he began to lead her from the courtyard, making her mind rush in a flurry of possibilities for whatever it was that was to be discussed privately.
She was unsurprised when his silent escorting of her had led them to the crypts, a place she knew he was certain they would be uninterrupted by those familiar and their guests who would be unable to navigate their way around them.
She allowed him to lead them through its archway, carrying a lit sconce to illuminate their way as they began to descend into its depths. What could be this serious that he had to take her down to the Crypts? Eliana shuddered at the thought but kept close to his heels as they walked on in silence, descending to its lower levels with no other words exchanged between them until they came to an all too familiar spot.
Eventually, Eddard came to a slow halt in front of the tomb Eliana had found him lingering in front of so many times before. He set the sconce onto the wall with a great thunk and stepped back so Eliana could see that they had come to stand before the tomb of Lyanna rather than her grandfather and she couldn't help but frown. Her father hadn't brought any winter roses with him to lay on her tomb (something he had always done as long as she could remember) but had he intended for them to go to her tomb? What was going on?
Eliana stood quietly, waiting for him to divulge the reason for having brought her there. The longer he kept her waiting, the more her worry grew. She glanced down at her hands, sighing to herself as she stood patiently beside him, sensing the hesitation coming from him which only made her wearier.
"He's not mine."
She looked up slowly, frowning as she turned to look at her father, more confused than anything - he was never usually someone for ambiguity, always straight to the point. "Father, what are you talking about?" She cringed at how uncertain she sounded, almost as uncertain as he stood in front of her contemplating silent conflicts.
Holding her gaze, she noted that his frown was one she rarely saw as he gritted his teeth as if willing himself to say what he couldn't.
She hated feeling confused. "Father, what is it?" she pressed on, stepping towards him in the hopes that he would reveal all.
Eddard squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand through his beard before opening them again to stare straight at her when he felt her hand fall on his forearm, squeezing it in comfort. The conflict was alive in his gaze and it did little to settle Eliana. "Forgive me..." She thought she heard him mutter lowly under his breath as Eddard turned to fully face her.
The worry only worsened.
She watched as her father sucked in a sharp breath, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "There's a promise that I made seventeen years ago, that I have kept since then..." he started quietly, struggling to find his voice which only unsettled her further. She didn't like how unsure he seemed, how willingly he was to speak about whatever it was that was obviously tormenting him. Eddard sighed, "When we go to King's Landing, we will no longer be safe."
That's blatantly obvious, she mused darkly to herself. Eliana studied his face carefully, trying to find any silent answers hidden there to explain why he was acting so strange all of a sudden. "What does this promise have to do with anything?" Eliana asked, her hand finally dropping from his forearm so she could fold her arms across her chest in a bid to help settle the uneasiness.
"Not what... Who." She couldn't recall ever seeing her father so serious. "If something happens to me, you must protect him."
She was beyond confused. "What are you on about?" She threw her hands into the air, her anxiety finally getting the better of her, wanting him to just speak plainly and be done with whatever was tormenting him rather than keeping her guessing. "Just tell me," she pleaded.
Eddard was silent for a few moments as if he was finding the strength to speak. "Jon..." he murmured so lowly she nearly missed it, she would have missed it if he hadn't been looking up at her so she wasn't able to read his lips.
Eliana's eyes narrowed at her father, "What about Jon?"
"He's not my son, he's not your brother."
She felt the world around her come to a slow, wheezing halt as his affirmation hit her square in the chest.
What? Eliana stared at him as though he had grown two heads, a deep frown crossing her face as she watched him closely. Was it some kind of sick jest? The confusion was too much. Jon wasn't her brother? A part of her hoped he was lying or making it up but the solemn expression that had been etched almost immediately across his face as he had spoken said otherwise. "What are you on about?" Eliana repeated, her voice having lost all its steadiness.
"Jon is not my bastard," Eddard spoke again, oddly calm as he did and Eliana felt her chest grow tighter - she couldn't be hearing him right. "I'm not his father."
Jon wasn't her brother? She felt sick, an uncomfortable wave rising through her gradually. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she watched him, trying to root out any lie. There was nothing apart from... guilt? Several emotions rose within her at that moment as she regarded her father, as she contemplated his words and allowed them to settle in her mind. Loss. Confusion. Hurt. Anger. Anger. Immediately, she felt it flare up within her that she dared him to look away.
Clenching her fists, she let out a deep breath she didn't realise she had even been holding; if she was going to try and keep her anger at bay for the moment. She could barely think as she felt the anger rising faster, higher... no, she was furious - furious that if what he was saying was true, he had chosen to keep it from them rather than let them know, let them share the burden. How could he keep that from them? Letting out a shaky breath, she refused to let the heat of her growing fury disappear from her gaze as she met her father's eyes. "Who is Jon's father?"
Betrayed, that's what she felt. She wasn't sure if she was going to throw up, her stomach twinged and lurched.
Her father said nothing and that only further enflamed her ire.
"Seven hells! Who is Jon's father?"
Eliana saw her father wince at the tone of her voice and she hoped it struck him to his core.
"Rhaegar Targaryen."
She felt her face contort before she could stop it. Normally, she was good at controlling her emotions but she felt them spiralling out of control beneath her the more her father spoke.
What mess was this? She choked out a laugh in disbelief as the revelation continued to hurtle towards her. Jon was a Targaryen? Eliana scowled at him, trying to find reason in what he had just disclosed to her and trying her hardest to understand the reasoning behind her father's conspiracy. This is madness. Her eyes narrowed further as she stared at him intently, retaining her scorching glance. It made no sense... she couldn't begin to understand until her eyes zeroed in on what he was staring after.
Her head snapped from her father to look at the stone statue before them in slow realisation and sudden clarity. No... she blinked hard, willing herself to wake from the nightmare her father has just bestowed upon her.
"Lyanna..." she heard him trail off from beside her and she felt her ire rising once more.
She glanced at him finally to see that his eyes remained glued to the statue of his sister, barely blinking as he continued to speak - but part of Eliana wished he would stop for every word he spoke, a chip was made in her girlhood memories and everything she thought once was, was no longer anymore. "She made me promise not to tell another soul... I had to protect him, Lia... she was my sister and he is of my blood." She didn't miss the sharp breath he drew in between his lips and immediately felt his eyes on her but she couldn't bring herself to look away from the statue of her aunt, feeling the tears beginning to well in her eyes the more her anger grew.
"I had to keep you all in the dark." Her father collected himself, sighing. "For Jon's sake."
For Jon's sake, Eliana repeated bitterly. An easy lie to believe, perhaps. But that wasn't what she truly found her ire rising at; whatever reasoning he convinced himself he had sought didn't excuse the blatant truth that he had allowed her mother to treat Jon so poorly for eighteen years despite hiding the truth, despite Jon not really being his bastard son and him standing idly aside whilst his two eldest trueborn children defended Jon from bullies like her lady mother and Theon.
She wasn't entirely sure she would be able to ever forgive him of that.
"I'm-"
"How could you?" Eliana said, finally turning to face him as she interrupted what she guessed was to be his apology. She didn't need to hear his apology - she didn't care to hear it - it was meant for her mother and for Jon, not her. She sent him another scathing look; she had never felt the magnitude of anger that was rolling over her at that moment but she assumed that it was normal when betrayed. "How could you let mother treat him like that... treat him like your bastard son when after all this time, after all this time, he was your nephew!"
He winced at her outburst.
Eliana wanted to curse herself for the tears she could feel rolling down her cheeks the longer she stared at him.
"Lia, you have to understand..." Ned swallowed thickly, slowly meeting her eyes. "Robert would have killed him, would have named him dragonspawn like Rhaenys and Aegon... they were butchered by the Lannisters at Tywin's orders and thrown before us..." She could see the conflict as it crossed his face, settling there hard as stone before a deep pensive look followed. "I couldn't abandon Jon to the same fate, I couldn't bear to be responsible for that. I refuse to allow another innocent child to die at the hands of war and for the sake of a man who would have been wounded by his own pride."
Eliana tried her hardest to not scoff at his sole reasoning being that it was to protect Jon from Robert because he was her aunt's scorned lover. She couldn't get her head around why he didn't think to tell her mother, to let her in so they could have protected him together - so Jon could have been loved the way he deserved. She just didn't get it; maybe she would have done something similar if she had been in her father's place but to allow her family to live a lie, she wasn't sure she would have been able to uphold that.
"When we arrived at that tower... I was already too late," Eddard breathed, shuddering at the memory as she looked towards the statue with a darkened gaze. "They weren't there for her, they were there for him... they didn't care what happened to her as long as the heir lived."
Despite her frustration, Eliana remained silent with her head bowed as her father continued to speak. If he had convinced himself he had done right by them and by Lyanna, Eliana wasn't sure whatever she said would make any difference.
"I hadn't heard her until the Kingsguard were all dead, once I had killed Ser Arthur nothing stood in my way and I realised why there had been there, guarding a tower in the middle of the Red Mountains." Eliana glanced over at him then, her eyes ghosting over his face to watch him as he spoke. "She was there, I heard her screams, her sobs..." her father trailed off, his eyes reflecting the endless torment he had endured all those years ago and Eliana almost felt a slither of guilt.
Her father was silent for only a few moments before he was speaking again, his voice so low that Eliana was struggling to hear him. "He looked so much like her that it made it easier for me to keep my promise." He looked away from her then, sighing in defeat, his shoulders sagging, "They were in love, her and Rhaegar, they ran away together so she wouldn't have had to marry Robert... but I know she blamed herself for the war," he let out quietly and for a moment, she let her guilt in as she realised that she had never seen her father look so small before. It was disconcerting, to say the least. "It was Brandon's error... Benjen tried to tell him, or at least that's what I tell myself - to lessen the pain of not being able to save her in time," Eddard recalled with a shudder, haunting him.
"She made me promise to not let anything happen to him, to not let Robert find out... to raise him as my own with you and Robb despite what anyone may think," Eddard explained, closing his eyes with a gentle sigh and Eliana could feel her resolve weakening the more he spoke of his strife. "I couldn't let her die without knowing I would give her son everything I could... I couldn't break my oath to her, Lia."
Despite all her ire, despite all her confusion, she understood why he had done it.
Eliana inched closer to him and despite herself, she set her closest hand on his forearm and let her fingers tighten around his arm possessively. "You shouldn't have kept it from us," Eliana murmured quietly, clearing her throat as she watched her father who was still overwhelmed with emotion. "I understand that she was your sister but mother would have understood, you know she would have," she implored, seeing the dread and the melancholy swimming in the depths of her father's eyes. "You shouldn't have kept us in the dark... we would have understood if we had known and that would have made it easier," she pleaded with him as his hand trailed upon to rest over her own, his grip scorching as he held onto her.
"It was my burden to carry with me, Lia."
"So, why now?" Eliana pressed with a scowl, "Why are you telling me?" she questioned, finding she was still completely perplexed as to why he was bringing up the circumstances of Jon's birth to her and why he was really telling her now. If anyone, her mother deserved to know. Why her? "So, why now? Why not keep you're seventeen-year-long secret?"
She wasn't sure how she felt about her father's revelation or how it sat within her. Why didn't he explain Jon the moment he was back in Winterfell? What was she supposed to feel?
"Because if anything should happen to me when we're South... I want you to take your sisters and get out of King's Landing as soon as you can... but Jon, I want you to protect him."
Eliana frowned at him, hating how ambiguous he was still being despite everything that had transpired within the last few moments. "What?" she pressed further, wanting to try and understand, desperately, completely.
Her father was silent for a few moments as though he was weighing out his options before he eventually opened his mouth to speak again. "No one can know the true nature of his birth. Not even your mother or Robb..." He let out a shaky breath.
The same crease formed between her eyebrows once more as she came to realise his wishes, "You would have me keep this from them?"
Slowly, Eddard moved to grasp both of her hands in his as he sighed, gritting his teeth. "Lia, I need you to understand. If the wrong person were to know about Jon's parentage... it's not that I don't trust your mother or your brother." He moved to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering as he smiled softly at her and it almost made her heart break. "I know you will honour your aunt's wishes and you will honour mine. You've never let me down, and I doubt you ever will." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his seriousness softening.
The weight of his burden had grown as he passed it to her and she didn't like it. So, she was to keep her father's secret and protect Jon from all despite soon to be a thousand leagues away... she wasn't sure it was the responsibility she had asked for and in all honesty, she didn't know what he expected her to do. How could she protect Jon? The mere question set her anxiety alight within her chest.
"Will he ever know?" She had to know if Jon would ever discover the truth, or would he remain in darkness for the entirety of his life... would he be denied his birth-right... would he be denied to take what was his? Her thoughts made her shudder.
Eddard blanched, "Some day, perhaps," he acknowledged with a pained expression.
Eliana nodded slowly in understanding, taking her father's arm as he offered it to her, her mind still reeling from the revelation even though she was quietly thankful he had told her. She was surprised he trusted her enough to disclose it to her, and begrudgingly, it made her heart swell despite how unsettled she still was. "I don't care about the facts of his birth, Jon is still my brother," she proclaimed, her voice echoing off of the walls as her father grasped the torch again from its sconce, sending her an oddly warm glance.
He smiled.
West Watch Turret, Winterfell
JAIME
...
Seven hells, he was bored. The North didn't suit him.
If ever he was to travel North again, Jaime was certain he would rather chop his own balls off and become a eunuch than feel them freeze to death.
He grimaced at the thought.
He had barely seen Cersei, Tyrion had taken to avoiding him for some ludicrous reason and he couldn't of anything worse than voluntarily seeking out Joffrey if it meant a painful distraction. That was a hell he'd rather not resign himself to.
Sighing, Jaime slumped against the glistening body of the watch turret he had retreated to skulk around, its stone face firm and chillsome on his back. He couldn't be more bored if he tried. He groaned, letting his head roll back to thump against the stone of the tower as he looked up into the starless sky. He couldn't feel more out of place if he tried.
"Is this what my life is to be," Jaime murmured to himself with a grunt, "To live out my days as a glorified bodyguard and nothing more..." He sighed despite knowing that it was his own doing, spending each of his days adorned in a full suit of armour to protect a King he didn't respect, to watch from the shadows as his sister was dishonoured without being able to do anything about it.
Jaime gritted his teeth in frustration; the sooner they left Winterfell for the South, the better.
Deciding to no longer wallow in his own self-pity of being trapped in Winterfell, Jaime made to push off from the turret but stiffened and righted himself immediately when he heard footsteps a small distance in front of him and allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, Jaime peered around the corner of the watch turret to see two familiar figures lingering at the battlements.
They both looked miserable beyond doubt.
Jaime's eyes narrowed curiously as he spied Benjen Stark, leaning against the battlements on his elbows, wearing a deep frown and stripped of his Night's Watch cloak whilst his niece was standing not too far away from him with her mantle pulled over her shoulders to shield her from the wintry gusts as it billowed through the evening air.
He watched as Eliana folded her arms over her chest, her head bowed as she stood facing away from him. He could see that her hair was pulled away from her face and she was dressed in the colours of her mother's house but her body was rigid and full of tension as she stood frozen on the spot. Although he was entirely unsure of what had transpired, he didn't miss the air of unsettlement between the two Starks as he stood observing them in the darkness as their silent argument reached its climax.
It was Benjen who spoke first and his words only fuelled Jaime's curiosity all the more.
"You must learn to trust him again."
Jaime frowned, looking between the uncle and niece as though he was afraid he would miss something vital. Trust who? Jaime arched a brow in confusion, looking between the pair.
He couldn't see Eliana's face in the darkness except for the glowering light of the wall sconces sparsely decorated around the battlements, reflecting the cerulean blue of her eyes before she spoke. "We grew up living a lie. You have no idea what that's done to me, Benjen…" she paused and Jaime didn't miss the apparent anger in her voice as she spoke, her Northern cadence stronger and full of fire. "My entire childhood and we were playing pretend."
Playing pretend? Jaime frowned at her words.
Benjen glanced over his shoulder at her and sighed, "I know... we did what we thought was right for you all, it was for the best." The older man looked conflicted for a moment that Jaime couldn't help but desperately wonder what they were discussing, although not ignorant of its importance. "I trust you know that."
He finally saw her face then and he didn't miss the fury rising across her features as she stepped towards her uncle. "My mother's animosity was for the best?" she snarled, carefully looking around them to see who might be eavesdropping and Jaime ducked back behind the turret quickly to avoid being seen. "Does he have any idea what that has done to him? Does he even realise?"
He heard Benjen sigh, finally pushing away from the edge of the battlements to stand straight. "He's just as much a Stark as you or I… just not as you thought."
"And that bothers me." Eliana was silent for a moment, considering her words and Jaime found that his interest, at that moment, was successfully piqued. "I wish it didn't, I wish I could tell you how relieved I am but I… a part of me died today, Benjen and I don't think my father realises that."
Jaime raised an eyebrow at that. A part of her died today? He found himself confused the more he listened to their exchange, wondering what on Earth had transpired that they were unaware of to the point that the Stark girl was so grief-stricken by whatever it was. It must have been grave enough to move her to that much emotion that Jaime could see the ire in her body.
"It's hard, I know," he heard Benjen agree softly.
Eliana inhaled sharply, shaking her head furiously. "No, it's so much more than that," she threw her hands up into the air in her frustration, barely able to contain her rage. "How different life could've been…"
Benjen, however, seemed unbothered by her anger which led Jaime to the belief that he was already aware of whatever had roused such emotion from his niece. "It was too dangerous to speak of it, so few people were alive who knew and it was better to keep it as though it had died with them," the older man reasoned softly, setting a hand on her arm gently. "Imagine what would have happened if Robert knew."
Jaime pushed forwards on the stone's edge then, immediately intrigued at the comment. If Robert knew what? Had Jaime known that the Starks held as many secrets as they apparently did, he would have made more of an effort to root them out from within but whatever Eliana and Benjen were discussing was a long-hidden family secret that had followed several members to their graves.
The woman scoffed in disbelief, "We know what would have happened." Eliana held his gaze firmly, her blue eyes glistening.
If it had been anyone else, Jaime knew he would have revealed himself from his hiding spot but despite his eagerness to do so, he couldn't bring himself to interrupt the pair before him - he was too engrossed in trying to discover why they were at an odds with one another and more so, what Eddard Stark had said to his daughter to move her to such anger.
It was more important for him to remain invisible and in the dark than it was to reveal himself.
"Your father is worried about going South with Robert..." Benjen reminded with a sad smile, squeezing her arms softly. "And I don't want him to go... I can't remember my father's or Brandon's face anymore, it's a sad thing to admit."
"Father will be fine," Eliana rebuked firmly, "I can't afford to think anything else."
"He will join Robert in being surrounded by Lannisters, sweetling." Benjen blinked hard, gritting his teeth before sucking in a sharp breath, "You must be careful."
She sighed in frustration, "In Winter, we must protect ourselves. Look out for one another."
Jaime saw her shudder at her own words and he wondered why she had been warned to be careful - everyone knew that King's Landing wasn't safe but he guessed that wasn't what they were referring to either. What had happened? What he was more impressed with was that something had arisen between the Starks that no one else seemed to be aware of. How had they missed it?
"Aye," Benjen gave a nod of his head as he held her gaze, turning so he was leaning against the battlements, his head inclined to one side. "Your father was wrong to ask you to make the decision. He knows how close you are to Robb, your mother-"
"Will forgive him," Eliana interjected again, sighing deeply and Jaime could visibly see her agitation as it flashed across her face. "She and I will carry on as we've always been," she murmurs, and he could almost hear the smile in her voice. "I'd like to think she'll come to understand in time."
"Your mother was born a Tully and wed to a Stark, I trust she'll be fine."
Eliana scoffed again, sending him a look of disbelief. "Of course, she will."
"You must promise me something," Benjen started gravely, a look of concern crossing his face as he closed the gap between them again. "You must be careful, Eliana… down South, we are so few that you can't afford to be anything else." He paused for a long moment and Jaime could see the hesitation in Benjen's eyes and he wondered whether the Starks were to be more cautious of that he first originally thought. "The wolf blood your father goes on about… you've more than a touch of it like Brandon did," Benjen continued and Jaime almost snorted at his words, "You must be careful. It brought them to an early grave."
Jaime frowned. So the Stark girl was to be feared? He felt confused by Benjen's words as he spoke them; he doubted anything would truly happen to Ned Stark's prized daughter in King's Landing but that didn't mean he couldn't fantasize over the uproar it would cause.
"You don't need to worry."
Something told Jaime that it was absolutely worth her uncle worrying over but Benjen chose to not press anymore.
"I think you should know, Jon… he wishes to take the Black."
Jaime noted how sad the woman had become at her uncle's admission, obviously not wishing for her brother to do such a thing. "I thought he might." Was all she said, clasping her hands together tightly and bowing her head in silent resignment.
"He's still a boy, Lia. He's throwing so much away for a life at the end of the world." It was Benjen who now sounded angry, his voice rising in argument as his hand dropped from his niece's arm. "The boy's seen nothing of life. Don't let him swear a lifelong vow before he knows what it means."
"There's honour in the Night's Watch, he can rise high there. If it's what he wants to do..."
But her uncle seemed less than placated by her words. "He doesn't understand what he's giving up. We have no families and none of us will ever father sons..." Her uncle was shaking his head, apparently move to his own annoyance by his nephew's defiance to follow in his own footsteps which part of Jaime supposed was the Stark thing to do. "He needs to understand what he'll lose."
Jaime could see the conflict on her face as she nodded slowly in understanding and put her hand on his shoulder as a means of comfort. "I'll speak with him, Benjen," he heard her murmur and Jaime saw the man visibly relax before she spoke again, "But it's his life. He's been in Robb's shadow his entire life…"
"The Night's Watch is a shadow of what it once was… thieves, killers…"
"Bastards?" Eliana interrupted, quirking a brow at her uncle before shaking her head, "I know you're worried for him, Benjen but I can only do so much."
They were silent for a few moments and Jaime would have thought they had gone if he had tucked himself away behind the turret again but he could see them quite clearly, lingering at the battlements as soft wisps of snow began to fall from the sky, drifting around them.
Jaime couldn't understand their exchange but he was adamant whatever it was that had caused silent discontent amongst their family was far more important than he could even begin to understand - that he was completely certain of - he also doubted that her bastard brother's decision to join the Night's Watch was what had brought them all the way to the battlements if it meant they wouldn't be disturbed.
"I'll speak with your father, sweetling." Benjen Stark pushed forwards quickly, his lips meeting the crown of his niece's forehead before pulling back. He cast his gaze briefly to the sky and let out another sigh before resting a gloved hand on her shoulder. "You ought to get some sleep."
He watched as the gaunt figure of Benjen Stark slowly retreated from the battlements, his hand lingering on his niece's shoulder for a couple of seconds in a last push of comfort before he disappeared into the growing darkness to leave her to her solitude.
Jaime almost considered moving at that moment, having decided that the time he had already spent listening to them as having been too costly from what he had heard between them (no matter how little sense it made to him) and perhaps it was but he also couldn't deny his intrigue - the ominous discussion confirmed that the Starks weren't as innocent as they appeared to be (he was also worried that if he moved, the heavy weight of his armour would certainly give him away).
Whatever it was it seemed to weigh heavy on the eldest Stark child.
There was a shift in front of him from where she was standing and Jaime's eyes were on the Stark girl again from where he lingered behind the watch turret. Her shoulders had sagged immediately once she thought she was alone; her fingers curled over the granite stone before her with her head tilted downwards and Jaime could almost hear the sigh as it escaped from between her lips and a small cloud of air emerged from her mouth. What were the Starks hiding?
Pushing off from his hiding spot, Jaime found his intrigue successfully piqued and no longer wanted to pass up the opportunity.
"How quaint."
A part of him, no matter how minuscule, half expected her to whip around to face him in sheer anger or shock that he was there imposing on her (during what he was sure had been a personal moment) - he had imagined she was the type of person who didn't appreciate being spied on in quiet moments or didn't take kindly to be intruded upon unknowingly - but, to his own surprise, she did neither and Jaime couldn't help but find himself disappointed by her reaction altogether.
Her head slowly came up again to incline at an angle and he couldn't suppress the smirk that pulled across his lips as it crept up his face. Her head remained turned on its side, not enough to be fully facing him but enough for her to be able to see him out of the corner of her eye as his strides brought him far closer than he should be to her.
Jaime frowned, tilting his head as he soundlessly observed her and his smirk faltered slightly.
"I take it no one has ever told you it's rude to eavesdrop?"
If he had been any further away, her voice would have never reached him. It was soft, barely an audible whisper as it rose to greet him.
Eliana turned around to face him then; her large cerulean eyes zeroed in on him immediately and Jaime thought he could see the faint reminiscence of what he thought were tears glistening in their depths. Her jaw had hardened to match her apparent temperament and Jaime wondered if this was part of the wolf's blood Benjen had been talking about moments before. Whatever had been discussed between them had not sat well with her, Jaime concluded.
Allowing himself a sardonic grin, he folded his arms over his chest as he came to slowly stop before her. No matter what his opinions were of the Stark girl, there was no denying she was a pretty thing. "I'll have you know," Jaime drawled out lazily as he tapped the pommel of his sword hilt, her eyes watching him. "I was doing my nightly duties as a member of Robert's Kingsguard... Winterfell isn't exactly as safe as we once thought, is it?"
Not now that you pushed her brother from that blasted tower to protect Cersei…
Her brow twitched at his words and her eyes hardened, steeling as she regarded him silently. He could see the anger slowly forming in their depths. "Apparently not," Eliana finally affirmed, her voice steady and having found its volume. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the frozen stone behind her. "What can I do for you, Ser Jaime?" she asked but it sounded very much like a courtesy. Her eyes followed him closely as he shifted on his feet before her and searched for a reply. "I know what your brother meant the other evening."
Watching her curiously, Jaime wondered if the girl before him was exactly as he had heard the whispers of her to be. He found himself inevitably curious which part of him blamed Renly Baratheon for… Robert's youngest brother had returned to King's Landing as they had departed, spurting tales of a Northern woman who had knocked both of Mace Tyrell's prized sons down a peg or two. Joffrey had been too easy, and her brother very much the same…
He silently weighed out his options of abandoning her there in that instant to seek out the warmth of Cersei (like he had been attempting to do, to begin with) or to persist with his sudden self-proclaimed interest in Eliana Stark. Unable to deny his own amusement, Jaime allowed himself to cast a grin at her. "What is that supposed to mean?" he questioned with a curious gaze, peering down at her. He hoped his leering over her smaller frame would succeed in intimidating her as it often did with others but he frowned when her eyes narrowed slightly.
The girl before him had more bravery than sense. The wolf's blood… his mind echoed quietly as Eliana Stark held his gaze comfortably, seemingly unbothered and defiant.
"Your eyes have been watching me..." she said coolly, pronouncing every syllable whilst holding his gaze with her own. "But then again, I suppose it's a common trait for you Lannisters... to skulk in the shadows and watch others."
Jaime wanted to curse Tyrion for his inability to keep his mouth shut at that moment. He wasn't sure why he felt so riled when her words spoke true of what he had done since he had set eyes on her in Winterfell's Great Hall. He had been staring though, and he hadn't been bothered to hide it either and that was the issue. "Perhaps," he acknowledged after a few moments with a subtle nod of his head, "Or you Starks are just overly paranoid. Have you considered that?" He paused for a second to gauge her reaction to his words before casting his gaze around them uncomfortably.
They were completely alone.
His verdant gaze fell back to her eventually. She still looked passive, her eyes the only thing that declared any ounce of life. "I imagine it's very easy to become that way living all the way up here in this frozen wasteland where you think all that matters is honour and duty..." He looked up at her face again and met her large eyes steadily.
He knew Ned Stark was the type of man who moulded his children into his way of life, his values were to be their values - nothing more and nothing less - and he had already witnessed that in his three eldest children (his own father had tried to instigate the same thing and had failed entirely, although he was probably the most successful with Cersei). Jaime couldn't help but wonder if they had actually ever enjoyed their lives freely enough with Ned Stark's weight of duty, with the demand of his honour bearing down on them. It seemed an impossible thing.
It was Eliana who finally broke her gaze from his, glancing over his shoulder briefly before looking around at him again. Feeling compelled, Jaime turned to look over his own shoulder out of sheer intrigue to see what she had seen. Hesitating, he thanked the Gods for the cover of night to conceal his face as he blanched at the sight of two viridian orbs glowing within the darkness. Her direwolf.
"You presume to know a lot about people you hardly know." A slow smile formed across Eliana's lips as she sighed softly, throwing her head to the side as if to taunt him. Her smile quickly faded and her jaw clenched: "Now, are you going to tell me why you've been staring after me?"
While Robert would hold on to every last remaining memory he had of Lyanna Stark and would probably go as far as to envision Eliana as her, Jaime knew that the girl only shared a familial resemblance with her aunt and nothing more. But that didn't mean it wasn't disconcerting to look upon her and not see the similarities - her only saving grace was the warm auburn tint to her otherwise raven mane and glistening azure eyes. This Stark would be safe from the clutches of a Targaryen…
Jaime knew he would be haunted but not by Lyanna Stark.
"Ghosts." His breath left him in frosted puffs when he eventually spoke. He thought he caught her eyes softening for a split second as he spoke but all they did was shine brighter and pushed him to one conclusion he was oddly happy to indulge her in - not that he wasn't already convinced that she wasn't aware.
He allowed his eyes to glide over the soft curves of her face, following the rise of her cheekbones and the soft slope of her nose all the way down to her full lips. Jaime was convinced that Eliana knew fully well that she was a beautiful woman which was a dangerous thing. "You're far prettier than she ever was," he admitted to her, hoping to catch her off guard. "It's no wonder your Father has kept you hidden away up here, safely tucked away from prying eyes… a Northern jewel anyone would be eager to snatch away." Jaime watched as she visibly bristled at his words, knowing they rang true. Plenty of worthy women had been ruined by unworthy men. "Robert seems to think so, anyway."
The woman's eyes narrowed almost immediately. "What is it you want, Ser Jaime?"
Jaime almost laughed at her straightforwardness, a common trait he was discovering amongst Northerners and one he was becoming more fond of - no blatant lies or intricate words laced in falsehood.
It was a fair question, Jaime surmised to himself. What do I want? He wasn't entirely sure what he wanted from their interaction but a part of him desperately wanted to know what secret she and her uncle had been discussing. He, instead, opted to taunt her. "Forgive me, my lady. I find myself confused…" Jaime said, giving a mock bow towards her and allowing his smirk to stretch across his face when he met her eyes again. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're not long off your twentieth name day and still without a husband… something your younger sister is closer to than you."
The muscle in her jaw twitched and he felt his smirk grow. He couldn't help goading people, something Cersei and Tyrion seemed to agree on.
"Your point being?"
Sighing, Jaime let out a soft chuckle as he regarded her. "It's something we're all thinking, I'm merely speaking freely…" he offered with a shrug, enjoying the look of growing frustration becoming more evident across her features. "Unless you'd prefer I didn't?" he challenged with an arched brow.
Eliana frowned, "I don't care much either way."
"Oh, really?" Jaime scoffed with a grin, finding that somewhat difficult to believe. "Such a shame."
By the way her face had suddenly contorted, Jaime found himself straightening to put a bit more distance between them as he came to realise that he probably should have left her alone in hindsight. A part of her face remained concealed by the shadows but the glowing of her eyes was beginning to unnerve him. "I don't understand why my lack of a husband concerns you," she commented, her head tilting. "More so, seeing as you're a member of Robert's Kingsguard who has scorned and sullied his white cloak with rumours I'm sure his lord Father would rather not hear, I doubt you are bothered by it."
Ah… Jaime's grin died suddenly as soon as her words erupted into the air. He found himself unsurprised that she had caught wind of such things, although he wondered from whom she had heard them enough to give her the courage to say them to his face. No one knew the truth of his relationship with Cersei, and just like he had always done, he would pay them no mind. Eliana Stark was no one, and the opinions of no one meant nothing to him. He did know that he was curious to know from whom she had heard them.
He loved Cersei, something he would never deny and perhaps he would've been angered to hear someone allude to it as a far more illicit thing, but no one would be able to tear them apart.
Jaime's eyes flashed with anger as he exhaled heavily. "I admire your gall, Lady Eliana. You're brave to mention such slanderous rumours against my family when all they speak of are jealousy and deceit from those of lesser houses." Jaime rolled his eyes, looking at her carefully, tilting his head only slightly. "Be careful who you say those words to, others may not be forgiving as I am," he warned lowly, feeling her jaw clench under his grip.
"It's something we're all thinking, Ser," Eliana challenged boldly, taking a step towards him as her glower deepened, not faltering for a single moment. "I hope you don't mind me speaking freely."
He moved then: Jaime took the opportunity whilst she was close enough and with his own ire beginning to boil to capture her chin between the fingers of his sword hand. His brow deepened into a scowl as he held Eliana's head firmly in place. He silently cursed himself for letting it get the better of him but didn't retract his hand either.
"Listen here, girl," Jaime hissed, stooping closer to her as his voice dropped lower, tilting her chin up higher so he looked down his nose at her. "Rumours are rumours. There is no use listening to them unless they speak the truth." His grip tightened around her chin to keep her looking at him. She would never suit a husband, and he doubted that husband would even suit her. "You should keep your mouth shut and do less talking so when you do eventually find yourself a husband, he has a well-behaved cock sucker so you can be the good little wife you're meant to be."
"A eunuch, then," she hissed.
Jaime frowned, confused by her words and their meaning until—
A soft ting rose into the air.
Jaime felt his breath catch in his throat and his fingers loosened around her chin. He allowed his eyes to slowly trail downwards to see that Eliana had manoeuvred her dagger from its place at her hip with the blade's teeth resting between the gaps in his armour to poke at his groin. She was lightly pressing it there.
Jaime wanted to laugh at his own surprise and the woman's slyness in her movements. He felt confused still; he found himself impressed by her sheer audacity to draw a blade on him but also annoyed that he had allowed himself to rise to her words which he was aware achieved their goal. She could never begin to understand his relationship with Cersei or how they were just meant to be, she was so small she didn't even matter… one small inconvenience, a small inconvenience he had just held by the chin with such a force that it had left red fingerprints against her snowy skin.
He couldn't help the chuckle as it left his lips, "Well played, little wolf." Jaime raised his hands into the air so they came to linger at either side of his head, a sleek smirk swimming across his lips as he regarded the young woman.
He felt the pressure lift at his groin but her eyes bore into his dangerously. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't touch me."
Jaime could barely contain his amusement at her actions, finding himself drawn in by her sheer audacity. "My apologies, my lady," he bowed his head, his smirk not faltering for a single moment as he held her gaze, "Has no man touched you before?" He swallowed hard, his hand rising from his side slowly. Whoever Eliana married would never survive her.
Perhaps Eliana Stark was more dangerous than he first thought…
She pressed against the blade again and the pressure returned to his groin, "I don't believe that concerns you," Eliana warned lowly before removing the blade entirely and sheathing it at her hip again.
Jaime's eyes burned into hers before he ignored her earlier comment and tried his luck again. "When you find yourself one... I hope he teaches you to watch your tongue," he whispered, the hand that had held her chin came up to stroke her cheek.
Eliana remained staring up at him, unblinking. "We can hope," she offered nonchalantly, her frown all but disappearing from her face to become blank again. "Please leave me be, Ser Jaime."
Wordlessly, Jaime did as she asked and he retreated from her.
Glancing away briefly, Jaime righted himself before looking back to Eliana. She had half turned away from him so she was partially concealed in the darkness again; he could still see his fingerprints glowing across her chin. He may have felt guilty, he wasn't sure.
"Enjoy your sulking."
She looked as though she wanted to respond to his taunt but something caught her gaze behind him; he followed her eyes to see her father's lap dog loitering not too far behind him. Jaime didn't miss the scowl that the Captain of the Guard was giving him as he came to stand before Eliana.
"My lady," the Northerner bowed his head, ignoring Jaime's presence.
Jaime saw Eliana's gaze soften as she looked at the other man and he didn't miss how she tilted her head to obscure the marks on her cheeks. "What is it, Jory?"
"Your father has asked for you," Jory coughed to clear his throat, glancing over his shoulder at Jaime again. "He's in the crypts."
With that, he watched as the young woman nodded her head in finality.
Jaime stared after her as she swept by him silently, following Jory into the darkness but not before stopping to send him one last look that had Jaime wondering if all their interactions were to remain unfinished.
Jaime found her gaze immediately and was surprised to see that hers held no animosity despite what had just transpired between them. "Goodnight, Ser Jaime," Eliana spoke softly before quickening her pace to follow Jory off into the night.
~.~
He had chosen to seek out Cersei after that.
Although a part of Jaime's mind still lingered on Eliana Stark and how she continued to pique his interest despite being nothing more than she was - a young girl who refused to abide by her father's wishes - and he couldn't seem to shake his subsequent curiosity of her either. But something else had stuck in Jaime's mind despite how much he had tried to remove it - she had yet to call him Kingslayer.
No matter how he sought to agitate her, she had not been moved to use the name he was so familiar with - she still sought to call him by his given name rather than continue to besmirch his honour by honouring him with what all others preferred to call him. It unsettled him that much he would admit to himself. As much as the North was extremely annoying to Jaime, he found that the North's eldest daughter was superior to that.
He had yet to understand her motives either and he had decided that if she was to follow them South, he would have time to learn them and abuse them.
His dark mood was all but washed away by the welcomed sight of his sister entering the keep before him; a part of him had almost been moved to accept Cersei's initial wishes to not meet again until they returned to King's Landing but he had continued to convince her that the abandoned keep between the north and east gate of the castle was a better opportunity than any.
He doubted Robert would miss or even notice her lack of presence in his drunken state.
All that mattered was the abandoned keep would give Jaime the privacy he desired with Cersei with no interruptions - but most of all, he hoped the desired time with his sister would remove all thoughts of Eliana Stark from his mind.
Stupid place, Jaime thought darkly as he quickly left the cover of the Guest House to follow his beloved sister across the courtyard, a quirk in his step as the realisation that they would be leaving on the morrow. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was following them as he eventually reached the keep himself and began to ascend the steps, his heart thumping all the way, quickening with each step he took.
When he eventually reached its apex, Jaime saw Cersei leaning lazily against the door outside of the room.
Jaime smirked at the mere sight of her.
He returned her smile as he wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her flush against him; she sunk back into his body with a soft sigh that sent Jaime's heart bouncing in his chest. "Fancy seeing you here, sister," his breath was warm against her ear, and the curve of his smile pressed against the soft outline of her jaw. "Why would you hide in a place like this?"
"A Lannister does not hide," Cersei bit back with a dark look, obviously still pretending to be annoyed with him over the incident he had caused over the Stark boy. "Jaime, you must be careful," she hissed out.
He scoffed with an eye roll, "You worry too much."
"He was a child, Jaime," Cersei interjected, but he could tell from her tone that she was looking for an excuse to be angry with him like she normally did.
"You worry too much," he repeated, nuzzling the side of her neck and leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses. It had been too long since he'd been able to release that he could feel himself already growing hard behind her. "He was a child, and now, he's no longer a problem. That's what I would do, Cersei, to keep us safe."
"It's not safe, Jaime," her heard her whisper, knowing exactly what he wanted as he pressed himself harder against her back, desperately willing her to forget all her worries.
Jaime wrapped his arms tighter around her waist as he heard her fumble with the door's latch and soon they were shuffling over its threshold. "Of course, it isn't," Jaime shook his head slowly, turning her around in his arms so he could see her properly.
She laughed despite herself, looping her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. "We can't trust them," Cersei reached up to brush a hand through his hair, "But you can't abandon me to skulk around here, I've barely seen you all afternoon."
Jaime grunted in response, choosing to not answer her as the easy option and avoid an argument. He stepped backwards, and Cersei stepped with him; her right foot coming forward as his left moved back. "Turn your mind to pleasures instead," Jaime's breath was warm against her neck as he continued to push himself against her.
"Why is that?" she questioned, moving to press her soft lips to his cheek, lingering for a few moments so he could feel the soft tickles of her breath against his skin.
A part of him wished to tell her of the exchange he saw between the two Starks but he thought otherwise, knowing that she would only push for more answers than he actually had. "You haven't exactly been around," Jaime replied easily, cupping her cheeks with his warm hands and letting the pads of his thumbs caress the skin there.
"When have you ever not fought to seek me out?" Cersei asked and she surged up to kiss him then, hard and open-mouthed before she finally pulled back just enough to rest their foreheads together and breathe against his mouth and smiled.
Jaime returned her smile, wishing he hadn't wasted all that time spying on Benjen and Eliana. "Also very true." He bent down to kiss her again, his hands trailing down her body and under her cloak to grip her hips tightly, pulling her tightly against him again.
Their mingled breaths hung heavily in the air as Cersei moved to kiss his stubbled cheeks, her lips trailing down the line of his neck and soon enough, his hands were flexing around her lips and he groaned with the pleasure of anticipation.
When her fingers eventually found his belt, he moved to slip his thigh between hers under her skirts and he saw her smile.
"Kiss me again," Cersei demanded, and he wasted no time in pressing his to her mouth as she started to work her fingers under the waistband of his already loosened trousers until he felt her hand on him.
But when he closed his eyes that time, he saw an azure pair staring back at him.
NOTES:
Thank you all for the lovely comments so far.
Next chapter preview - Fram:
A family is divided: Eliana comes to an understanding with Robert and must make a choice. Sansa finds her Prince but loses a brother. Jon decides to leave Winterfell and farewells are exchanged.
