You can sacrifice and not love.

But you cannot love and not sacrifice.

-Kris Vallotton

Chapter Ten – The Rat's Nest

Caryssa could admit that there was a kind of beauty about the Red Keep; it was formidable and daunting, towering over the lower city, where the poor and unfortunate dwelled, but in its way it was a sight to behold.

Caryssa rode in between her father and Jory, as the Northerners entered the Red Keep, riding until they reached the courtyard in front of the Tower of the Hand. She turned her eyes backward, checking up on her sisters from where they sat on a cart. Both of them had not wanted their view to be restricted as they entered, so sat with Septa Mordane in the open cart, rather than the closed off carriage. Both Arya and Sansa had a look of child-like wonder on their faces, which caused a grin to play on Caryssa's lips.

Jory nudged Caryssa, forcing her to turn back around and pay attention to her surroundings, just as her father pulled his horse to a halt, with everybody else following suit.

Ned dismounted his horse, allowing a stable hand to take the stallion from him, and stepped forward as a servant walked quickly towards him, a slightly nervous smile on his face. The Northern party were a rather intimidating group, Caryssa mused, still atop her horse at Jory's side.

"Welcome, Lord Stark. Grand Maester Pycelle has called a meeting of the Small Council. The honour of your presence is requested." The man said, giving her father a half-bow.

Ned sighed, looking around his shoulder at Septa Mordane and his eldest.

"Get the girls settled in. I'll be back in time for supper. And, Jory, you go with them."

"Yes, my Lord." Jory accepted Lord Stark's orders, and Caryssa smiled at him. Even if she felt as though she was capable of protecting herself, Caryssa felt much more at ease knowing that Jory was going to be close by. Knowing him all her life, there was no man outside of her family, except Ser Rodrick, Maester Luwin and perhaps Ser Jaime, that she trusted more with her safety.

"If you'd like to change into something more appropriate…" The servant remarked, though quickly turned on his heels as Ned gave him a dark look, and simply removed his gloves. His wife had made him the leather tunic he was wearing, and he quite liked it.

Caryssa watched her father stride away, a quirk on her lips. She didn't suppose he had expected to be called to duty so soon after arriving, yet he made no complaints. Her father was nothing if not a man of duty.

She turned to Jory, the same smile still firmly in place.

"Come, let's get the children settled and our rooms ready for when the Hand of the King arrives to be fed." Caryssa grinned, and Jory laughed at her, both of them dismounting from their snow white horses together.

The rift had not healed between the youngest Stark girls. Arya was upset and angry at the loss of her direwolf; upset that Nymeria was gone, and angry that Sansa had not stood up for her and Nymeria. Sansa was upset because she had almost lost Lady, and that Lady and Rhaenyra had been forced into cages for the remainder of their journey.

It made things rather unpleasant once Caryssa and Septa Mordane had organized their new household and had gotten supper ready for the girls. They sat side by side, but in frosty silence. The only sound that was heard was Arya stabbing her knife into the table, which was beginning to irk both her septa and her sister.

"Enough of that, young lady. Eat your food." Septa Mordane scolded.

"I'm practicing." Arya grumbled, continuing her actions, and Caryssa narrowed her eyes at her from across the table.

"Practicing for what?" Sansa questioned, trying her best to ignore her sister's hostility and eat her meal.

"The prince." Arya answered simply, as though there was nothing wrong with her words, even if all of the other three at the table gasped in surprise.

Caryssa though had more than enough of her sister's attitude, rising from her seat, moving around the table and yanking the knife out of Arya's hand. Arya scowled at her eldest sister, and tried to reach for the knife, but Caryssa moved it out of her reach and handed it to the septa.

"That is enough, Arya." Caryssa warned her, but her sister refused to listen.

"He's a liar and a coward and he killed my friend."

"The Hound killed your friend." Sansa reminded her, and Arya narrowed her eyes at her sister, glaring at her as though she was the most naïve and stupid person alive.

"The Hound does whatever the prince tells him to do."

"Yes, and what do you think the Hound would do to you if word gets back to the prince that you've been practicing to kill him?" Caryssa questioned, kneeling down beside her sister, gripping her chin and forcing Arya to look at her. "This place isn't the North, these people aren't Northerners. This place is full of corruption at every turn and spies listening to every conversation. You cannot say such things, not even here. Do you understand me?"

"He's a liar and so is Sansa! If she had just told the truth, then Mycah would still be alive!" Arya said, slamming her little fist against the table and Caryssa squeezed her eyes closed, taking a deep breath.

"Septa…take Arya to her room. She's finished with her meal." Caryssa sighed, standing to her full height.

The septa nodded, gently pulling Arya out of her seat, and leading her away, just as Lord Stark returned from his council meeting. Caryssa noticed that her father looked more worn from the meeting than the long ride they had endured, and wondered how well it went.

"What is happening here?" He demanded, and before Caryssa could open her mouth to explain, Septa Mordane beat her to it.

"Arya would rather act like a beast than a lady. Caryssa has ordered her to her room."

Arya looked at her father, who looked between her and his eldest, who bore an expression of weariness. Ned turned back to his youngest, and gestured with his head for her to follow her sister's instructions.

"Go on. Go to your room. We'll speak later," Ned ordered her, and Arya sighed before finally doing as she was told. Ned turned to his eldest, who had collapsed into Arya's vacant seat, running her fingers over the tiny prick marks the young girl had made in the wood with her knife. "What was that all about?"

"Arya is still angry over Mycah and Nymeria. She was saying things she shouldn't and stabbing the table with her knife. She just needs some time before she'll listen to reason," Caryssa explained, waving her arm around as if she were batting away the problem. She pulled on a smile for her father, looking up at him from her seat, and arched an eyebrow, as she gripped the arms of the chair. "How did you fare in the Small Council, father?"

"We can talk more on that later," Ned said, his daughter giving him a knowing smile. Sometimes he worried that his daughter could read his every thought, but he knew it was more that she knew him so well that she could interpret every shift and change in his body language and work out for herself the answers to most of her questions. He held up the package in his hand, and gently place it on the table beside Sansa. "That's for you, love."

The Tully-haired girl daintily placed down her knife and fork, before picking up the leather wrapped package as carefully as her father had placed it down. Caryssa gave her father a curious glance, and his lips quirked a moment before he turned back to Sansa, sitting down in the last vacant seat at the table.

Sansa tugged on the ties and unwrapped the leather to reveal a pretty doll dressed in blue and pink clothing. Caryssa moved her chair slightly so she had a better view of both the present and Sansa's face. She didn't look too impressed with it, but one glance at Caryssa had her plastering on a smile for her father.

"The same dollmaker makes all of Princess Myrcella's toys," Ned informed her, and Sansa kept her smile, even if her and her sister both knew she hadn't played with dolls since she was eight years old. "Do you like it?"

"It's…it's beautiful, father. Thank you," Sansa lied, and while Caryssa had always been a strong advocate for the truth, they both knew a little white lie was better in this case, so Sansa didn't hurt their lord father's feelings. "May I be excused?"

"Well, you've barely eaten a thing." Septa Mordane protested, but Ned shook his head.

"It's all right. Go on."

Sansa gave her father another smile, taking the doll with her as she left the table. Ned waited until Sansa was out of earshot before he sighed deeply and turned to Septa Mordane.

"War was easier than daughters." He commented, and Caryssa quirked a brow at him.

"You flatter me, father." Caryssa remarked, making her father chuckle. She always felt a little proud when she managed to make her father smile or laugh. Ned Stark was like the North, a grim beauty, fair but harsh. He was a very reserved man, her father, so any laugh or smile brought out of him was a victory.

"You have always been the one child I had no worries about," Ned informed her, and she beamed at him, only for him to laugh and continue. "And you repaid me by becoming a woman and giving me grey hairs. You were this charming little girl one moment and a beautiful young woman the next. Near gave me a heart attack."

"It can't have been that much of a surprise to you. Children have to grow sometime." Caryssa replied softly, her eyes warm as she gazed at her father. He was looking worn, tired, like all the battles and trials he had fought in life were suddenly all catching up to him. He was still very handsome as he had been in his youth, when she was a child, but time was working its magic on him, that she could see quite clearly.

"When you have children, you'll understand. Your first born is different to the rest. While you want them to grow and become the people they were born to be, you want them to stay children forever, to stay yours forever." Ned sighed, his gaze soft as he looked over at his daughter.

She was so wise, so much more mature than her nineteen years would have her be, and so beautiful, so like his sister, that sometimes it hurt to look at her, yet he didn't want her to leave him. Caryssa was his first born, his eldest daughter, the first of six precious gifts his wife have given him, and soon she wouldn't be his, she'd be Jaime Lannister's. He knew that it had to happen, but he didn't like it much.

Caryssa rose from her seat, circled around the table, and wrapped her arms around her father's shoulders, and he immediately moved to hold them, rubbing his thumb over the material of her sleeves. He noticed that she had changed from her riding garb into one of the dresses her mother had given her so she would blend in better with the southern styles in the capitol. Plus, it was a creamy yellow, not bold enough for it to be obvious, but it was a nod to the King and his family, and Ned knew it was a deliberate move on Caryssa's behalf.

Ned knew his daughter was clever, far cleverer than most would believe, and she had a keen mind for politics even if she pretended she didn't. She knew that by currying favor with the King and the prince, she could better keep their family in a better standing, but he didn't want her to have to do that. He just hoped that she didn't end up like the Cersei Lannister's of the world, manipulating men into doing what they want, gaining power through dishonesty and other unsavory tactics.

"I am a Stark of Winterfell, the She-Wolf of the North, and your daughter, first, last and always. Jaime Lannister, the King, the Queen and all the gods, old and new, couldn't change that." Caryssa declared, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, resting her head against his for a couple moments, before straightening up and heading to the door that led to her bedroom.

"Where are you going?" Ned questioned her, stopping her in her tracks.

"I was told the gardens were beautiful. I thought I'd get Rhaenyra and take her for a walk there. She's been rather unhappy being cooped up inside." Caryssa answered honestly, though she was just as unhappy being confined within the tower's walls.

In Winterfell, she could roam anywhere and everywhere she wished, but here, in the Red Keep, she dare not go far beyond the Tower of the Hand. While she knew that Jaime, at the very least, would not cause any harm to come to her, not directly, she could not shake away the hate she felt rolling of the Lannister queen in waves. She was in Cersei's world now, and she had to tread carefully or else find herself imprisoned or worse.

"Go on then, don't forget to leash her. I don't want any more trouble with these wolves."

"There won't be, Father. Don't fret," Caryssa replied, smiling, before she walked into her rooms, having to push the excited direwolf puppy down off of her as she did so. She smiled at the affectionate, larger by the day, pup before grabbing her leather leash. "I know you don't like it, but the King has ordered it, so we have to accept it, okay?"

Caryssa chuckled as Rhaenyra seemed to nod her head as if conceding to her wishes, before allowing her owner to slip the leash over her head and pull it tight. Caryssa and Rhaenyra walked back through the rooms, and out of the tower, trying to remember the directions one of their new staff had given her to the gardens.

She found them soon enough, and Caryssa was almost overwhelmed. There were so many bright and colorful flowers, something she was not used to seeing in the cold, unforgiving North, and it felt like it was too much on her eyes all at once. So the Northern lady hurried past the pretty flowers, deciding to slow herself through the tall, green bushes, until she came to a fountain in the middle of it. There was nothing in the middle of it, like it was awaiting a statue of some sort to be built there, but no one had decided on what yet.

It was incomplete. Very much how Caryssa felt within herself. Throughout their journey, and for most of her day so far, she had managed to preoccupy herself. Yet now, she was perched on the edge of the fountain, running her hands through Rhaenyra's fur, and her mind wandered of its own accord to Winterfell and its inhabitants.

She wondered if Bran was awake yet, if he had recovered from his fall. She knew that he would never have use of his legs again, that his dreams of being a knight were lost to him, but he was alive. That was a miracle in itself.

She thought on her smallest pup, little Rickon, and how well he was taking their separation. He was probably sticking to poor Robb, hanging off his leg and insisting on following him wherever he went. Caryssa probably could have mothered him less, treated him more like her baby brother than her surrogate son, but she had done it with all her siblings. She mothered them all. It was just in her nature. Maybe it would turn out to be a bad thing. Without her pseudo-motherly support, and her mother still despairing over Bran, how would Rickon fair without someone to coddle him?

Next, her mind moved onto Robb. Robb. Her heart ached from the very thought of him. He had become the Lord of Winterfell now, in all but name. It was a responsibility that she was not sure he was ready for. He was just past his seventeenth year, and still very young. It was a heavy burden, the protection of the north, to place upon his shoulders, but she also knew that he would do his very best to honor their family, and his promise to her. She missed him terribly. When she first saw the table they would have their meals at, she had almost wept at the pitiful size of it. Of course, they had given them that table since only three, plus Septa Mordane, would truly be eating at it once Caryssa was married, but it had only served as a reminder that she was missing half of her pack.

Feeling a wet, scratchy tongue lapping at her cheeks, she focused on where she was, and realized that she was weeping quietly. Rhaenyra was whining, licking away her human's tears, and Caryssa bit the inside of her cheek, trying to push back at the wave of emotions that was threatening to wash her walls away. She buried her face in Rhaenyra's grey-white fur, hugging the direwolf tight to her, the wolf staying still as her human took comfort in her companionship.

"I've never really known what to do when a woman starts crying. It appears your wolf is better versed in that respect than I."

Caryssa jumped to her feet, grabbing tight on Rhaenyra's leash when she started to growl lowly at the man in front of her. With her free hand, she started furiously scrubbing her cheeks free of tears, before glaring at the unknown man in front of her.

"I don't believe I've made your acquaintance." Caryssa said sharply, her eyes showing a clear distrust. Rhaenyra, like her owner, seemed to sense when a man was worthy of trust or not. She had not growled at either Tyrion or Ser Jaime, at her brothers or father, at Jory and Ser Roderick or at the King. The people the direwolf had growled at where Theon, the prince and the hound, Ser Ilyn Payne, several Lannister soldiers, the King's squire (Another Lannister. Lancel, was his name.), Cersei, and now this man.

"I am a friend of your mother's, from when we were children together, maybe she's mentioned me. Lord Petyr Baelish. I am a member of the Small Council."

Caryssa eyed the man, taking in his goatee, his slim build, noting that he could not have been a warrior like her father and uncle had been, and his eyes. It were his eyes that made her distrust him. They screamed mischief and deceit to her, and the slight superior smirk on his lips only added to that image. She imagined he would have quite the silver tongue as well.

When Caryssa did not reply, Lord Baelish simply continued to talk, noting her narrowed us and the way she loosened her grip on the still growling direwolf's leash as he took a couple steps forward. He could see the sword at her hip, one that he was sure her mother would be less than pleased about her carrying, and the casual way her hand rested on top of the hilt. She did not trust him, not even after the mention of his previous friendship with her lady mother. Lady Caryssa was far cleverer than people gave her credit for.

"I heard you may be in the gardens, and I thought you might like a tour of the grounds. I did not expect, from all the stories I have heard of the illustrious Lady of the North, to find you weeping. What gives you cause to weep, my lady? Do you not like your new home?"

"It is too early for me to have formed an opinion, my lord." Caryssa replied simply, being vague in her answer on purpose. He may know of her, but she knew not of him. Her mother had made no mention of him in all of her life, so she could not know if he told the truth or not. She would ask her father when she returned to the tower.

"Perhaps it is due to your upcoming wedding. Are you worried about marrying the Kingslayer, Lady Caryssa?" Baelish questioned, but before Caryssa could answer, a voice spoke for her.

"I believe it's I who should be worried. Some of the stories you hear on the road about the She-Wolf of the North are quite terrifying, I must say." Jaime grinned at her as he stepped into view from behind one of the bushes, seeing her breathe a sigh of relief, though she did not realize it herself.

"Ah, the man himself. I'll leave your future bride in your capable hands, Lannister." Baelish spoke through gritted teeth, and both Jaime and Caryssa knew that he was leaving rather reluctantly. After all, he had practically hunted her down with the intention of 'showing her around the keep'. Caryssa did not know his game, but she would work to understand this stranger, to work out his motivations.

Caryssa did not speak, and Rhaenyra did not stop growling until the man had gone, and only then did both woman and direwolf relax.

"He said his name was Petyr Baelish, that he knew my mother. Was that true?" Caryssa questioned, her eyes still on the break in the bushes where the man had disappeared to. He had sent unpleasant shivers down her spine, the same kind Theon Greyjoy had always given her. It was how she knew the Iron Islander was not to be trusted, so she never did.

Jaime nodded, confirming Baelish's story, and Caryssa turned her eyes to him.

"I spent some time in the Riverlands when I was a boy. Littlefinger was very much in love with your mother, even going so far as to challenge your uncle, Brandon, to a duel for her hand." Jaime revealed, as he stepped closer to her, a smirk on his face as the grey-white wolf did not growl at him, and at how his bride to be did not tense at his approach the way she had Baelish's.

"I sometimes forget that Uncle Brandon was betrothed to my mother first," Caryssa mused, before amusement sparkled in her eyes. "My uncle would not have taken kindly to the challenge. That much I remember of him. He was rash where my father was more calculated. Uncle Brandon obviously won that battle, Baelish strikes me as a man who fights with words and plots, not a sword. Can I trust him?"

"It wouldn't be in your best interest, little wife. Baelish is ambitious, and would most likely say anything and do anything to further himself. His is a quest for power," Jaime informed her, and she nodded, storing that information within her mind, ready for later use. Caryssa looked up at the white-gold clad knight, seeing him already staring down at her. She wondered what was going through his mind, when he suddenly reached up, cupping her cheek with his hand. Her eyes widened, until he rubbed his thumb under her eye, wiping away the dampness she had missed. "I did not know that ice maidens could cry."

Caryssa scoffed, trying to muster up enough anger to retort with, but she couldn't. Instead she chuckled in spite of herself, in spite of the man before her. She found herself warming to him, and she was both terrified and thankful of it. Terrified because he was an unsafe bet to make, a man with his reputation was a dangerous one to entrust yourself and, more importantly, your heart with, and thankful because she could not imagine a marriage without trust and some form of affection.

She knew that her parents' marriage had not started out on the best of terms. Her uncle Brandon had married some other woman, a farmer's daughter, which had almost put the Starks and Tullys at odds. Her uncle had left Hoster Tully's eldest daughter without a husband, and him without an alliance to the North, that is until her father had asked the Warden of the Riverlands for his daughter's hand, to reestablish that alliance and smooth things over after the mess his eldest brother had made. Her mother had loved Brandon, and she knew her father had loved some other woman, she had guessed as much from his story, but they grew to love each other immensely and wholly. She wished for a love like the one her parents had.

"I suppose even the ice maiden melts when exposed to this ridiculous southern heat." Caryssa remarked, her dry tone not going by unnoticed.

"The weather here is not to your liking? How shocking," Jaime teased her, and she rolled her eyes at him, before she really took him in. She had seen his Kingsguard armor all but once, and that was only for a brief few minutes back in Winterfell from a distance. She was seeing it up close now, and had to admit that it was an attractive look on him. Jaime must have caught where her eyes had wandered to, because when she glanced back up at his eyes, he was smirking again. "See something you like? We're to be man and wife, you are more than welcome to ogle me as much as you'd like, as long as I can return the favor."

"How gallant of you, but, as tempting as that offer sounds, I would have to pass. As you seem to have been relieved of your duty, you can escort me around the rest of the gardens."

Now it was her turn to smirk, as she held her hand out to him, waiting for him to take her arm and do just as she'd said. He eyed her, seeing if she was being serious or not. His future bride had yet to express a real desire to spend any time with him. Perhaps the ridiculous southern heat, as she had so eloquently put it, had meddled with her mind. Yet she seemed genuine enough. She could be trying to make the transition from perfect strangers to man and wife easier on them both by tearing down a few walls to let him in.

Regardless of her reasons, he looped her right arm through his left, keeping a gentle grip on her hand, before leading her away.

"I had an interesting conversation with your father earlier today." He quipped, as they walked through the gardens, neither realizing that they were in tandem with each other. Right foot first, followed by the left.

"Oh yes? He did not say."

"It was in the throne room. I was on guard, and may have provoked him a little, but he was quick to retaliate. We spoke of the deaths of your uncle and grandfather. I don't know if you met them."

"I was but a small child, barely two, but I remember them. I remember crying when father told me what the Mad King had done, when he told me that they would not be returning home. I did not know them very well, not like my uncle Benjen, but all I knew was that my father was saddened by it, so I cried for him, for his loss." Caryssa divulged to him, trying to let him in, little by little. She knew she had resisted at first, she had not wanted to leave Winterfell, but she was in King's Landing now and there was nothing to be done about stopping this marriage, so she would make the best of it. The way her mother would expect her to.

"I cannot imagine what that is like." Jaime replied, and Caryssa looked at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"I love my family dearly, I do, but I have never cried for them, for their losses." Jaime revealed, and Caryssa squeezed his hand, gazing up at him.

"I've been told that I can be overly compassionate when it comes to my family. I remember when Robb first started to walk, we were in the Great Hall in Winterfell, and father had finally come home from the war with Jon in tow. Jon could already toddle, but Robb was like a newborn doe on his feet, all shaky and unsure. He tried all the same though, because he wanted to follow me everywhere. One day, he climbed to his feet as I was walking away, following my septa to my room, and tried to follow, but I was walking too quickly and he fell. I rushed back to him and saw that he had cut his knee," Caryssa chuckled at the memory, and Jaime gazed at her, in wonder. She was revealing all these private memories of her family, information she usually kept close to her chest, and he had no real idea why, but he dared not question her, in case she decided to stop. It was not a terrible thing, he decided, to get to know his little wife. "The boy didn't even cry. I saw the blood, thought he must be in such pain, and cried for him. My father rushed into the room, thinking something terrible had happened, and it took forever for him to calm me down, insisting that Robb wasn't really hurt. I've always felt my family's pain more than my own. Perhaps that speaks more about my character than it should."

Caryssa smiled, not realizing that they had come to a stop at a balcony overlooking more of the keep below, and she looked up at him, surprised to find him already gazing down at her, with a warmth in his eyes that she hadn't expected to see.

"What?" She questioned, and he simply chucked in return.

"You are a puzzle, Lady Stark, and sometimes, I really cannot fathom you."

"But isn't that part of the fun?" Caryssa asked, and Jaime looked at her in confusion. Fun? What was she talking about? "If I was easy to understand and completely uncomplicated, you would tire of my company in an instant, and if you were the same, I would be bored of you also. Puzzles are fun, because trying to solve them is almost as fun as the actual solving."

Jaime snorted, causing his female companion's eyebrows to pinch together as she tried to understand why he could possibly be laughing at her, or at the audacity of him laughing at her in the first place. It was rather rude to laugh at a lady when she had not embarrassed herself, or even when she had.

"I see why Tyrion liked you so much now. You both have a fondness for games of the mind." Jaime chuckled, and Caryssa rolled her eyes at him. She feared her eyes would eventually ache from the amount of time she spent rolling them at him.

"Tyrion has a wonderful brain and wit. Of course he liked me." Caryssa teased, letting her own ego show for a moment.

She knew she had one, but she rarely liked to acknowledge it or let it dictate her actions. She knew that she was beautiful, which often inflated it, and she knew that her intellect was nothing to scoff at either, like her skills with a bow. What made her ego controllable was the knowledge that there were people in the world, she knew, that were more beautiful, more intelligent and better skilled in her weapon of choice than she was. She recognized this, even if others like to exaggerate her attributes.

"Of course, how stupid of me. He wrote to me, Tyrion, and asked me to tell you that your brother, the bastard, was doing well on the Wall, despite it not being what he thought it would be."

"Jon would do well in anything. I raised him," Caryssa stressed her brother's name, making Jaime roll his eyes, but he stopped when concern flickered in her eyes and worry transformed her face. "Did Tyrion say if he was fitting in well with the other men? He's only ever had Robb, Theon, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon and I. I'm worried that the rapers and thieves and murderers will treat him badly being the son of Ned Stark."

"You truly care for him, don't you? You bear him no ill will despite the circumstances of his birth?" Jaime questioned, and Caryssa blinked at him in surprise.

"Why would I? Jon had no say in his birth, nor his parentage, but I had a say in whether to love him or not, so I did. I love him as I do all my family, full blood or not. He's a Stark, even if he doesn't have our name. Though he would if I had my say."

"You'd have him legitimized? Why?"

"He's a Stark, through and through. He looks like my father, like my uncles, and no matter who his mother may be, it is the North that runs through his veins. He is a wolf of Winterfell and he should be known as such."

"Too late now, the boy will be a crow." Jaime replied, and Caryssa sighed. She had not wanted for Jon to become a man of the Watch. She had been sorely against it from the first moment he had mentioned it at the age of eight. It bothered her immensely that her mother almost seemed to encourage him to choose that path. Caryssa knew that Jon had almost created a fantasy as to what the Wall was like, and she knew that he would be facing a harsh reality now. She had warned him against it. She had truly tried, but in the end, she knew that his happiness, his fate, were entirely up to him to achieve, so she had plastered on a smile and gave him her best wishes.

She would pray to the old gods and new that he would remain safe on the Wall until the day, whenever that was, they next saw each other again.

The she-wolf shook her head, willing away the dark thoughts that threatened to ruin her good mood, and turned to her companion, her betrothed, and smiled.

"Ser Jaime, tell me about Casterly Rock. I've heard it is beautiful."

Jon Snow was depressed. The Wall was not what he thought it would be. He had been there nearly two weeks now, and he'd already made himself more than a couple enemies when he should have been making friends, brothers to replace the ones he had left behind.

Not that any man could replace his brothers. The Starks were a hard bunch to shake off once they dug their claws into you.

The bastard placed another blunt training sword into its holder, ignoring the two other recruits in the room with him. They'd been glaring at him since he walked in, watching every move he made. He remained as silent as Ghost, not wishing to provoke them further, until he heard the door open and close behind him.

"You broke my nose, bastard." A voice growled, and Jon froze for a moment, before putting down another training sword, and turning to face the man.

Jon noticed that he still had fresh blood staining his face, and he smirked, in spite of himself. He hadn't wanted to cause problems for himself, but he couldn't help the words that tumbled from his lips, reassured by his superior skills to the men surrounding him.

"It's an improvement." Jon Snow remarked, enraging the bloodied man further. A man grabbed him from behind, holding him in place, while the angry man charged at him holding a rusty, most likely blunt, blade to his throat.

"If we threw you over the Wall, I wonder how long it would take you to hit." He sneered, another man, smaller and leaner, moving closer so he could also taunt the trapped lord's son.

"I wonder if they'd find you before the wolves did."

The door creaked open, and all four men's eyes turned towards the newcomer, expecting it to be someone who'd flog them for fighting amongst themselves, only to find Tyrion Lannister, the half-man, the Imp, standing in the open doorway.

"What are you looking at, half-man?" The recruit with the blade to Jon's throat questioned, wanting to frighten the boy from Winterfell. The man wasn't a killer, no, but he was angry, very much so, and wanted to scare the green boy who'd broken his nose, like it was as easy as a sharp knife through butter.

"I'm looking at you," The Lannister dwarf replied, dryly, and tauntingly. These men could most likely all best him in combat, but he had his own weapon, as his new, and only, female friend had pointed out to him. "Yes. You've got an interesting face. Hmm, very distinctive faces. All of you."

"And what do you care about our faces?" The man holding the Snow boy asked, feeling a little bit nervous in the presence of the Imp. Not because of his physical stature, that was not threatening at all, but because of his social stature. He was a guest of the Lord Commander of the Watch, and if any harm came to him, it would be their heads.

"It's just," Tyrion paused slightly, as he leaned against the nearest wall, and smirked at them. "I think they would look marvelous decorating spikes in King's Landing. Perhaps I'll write to my sister, the queen, about it. Or my brother, the Kingslayer. After all, it is his future good-brother you're holding a knife to, and Lady Caryssa would be incredibly angry at me if I let any harm befall her brother."

The three men looked at each other, before releasing Jon. Two of them remained, the small one and the angry one, while the other left, not wanting to be in the same room as the clever Lannister lion any longer.

"We'll talk later, Lord Snow." The bloodied man whispered to him, before stepping off to the side to remove his training armor.

Jon panted slightly, leaning back against the heavy wooden sword holder, as he gazed at the half-man who'd saved his life with only his words. Perhaps Jon should read more, he mused to himself, if only to sharpen his wits. His sister read. Caryssa read as often as her schedule allowed her to, saying that a slow mind meant a quick death, but he and Robb had always scoffed at her.

He wasn't laughing now. He missed her. Missed all of his family. He wished he hadn't left Winterfell now.

"Everybody knew what this place was and no one told me. No one but you and my sister. My father knew and he left me to rot at the Wall all the same." Jon lamented. He knew his father loved him, deep down he knew that, but it stung to know that the only people who had cared to tell him that a life on the Wall was not what he thought it would be was his eldest sister, who he thought he had known better than, and the dwarf who stood before him.

"Grenn's father left him too, outside a farmhouse, when he was three," Tyrion informed him, both of them looking at the man in question as he stared at the Lannister dwarf, wondering how he knew that. "Pyp was caught stealing a wheel of cheese. His little sister hadn't eaten in three days. He was given a choice – his right hand or the Wall. I've been asking the Lord Commander about them. Fascinating stories."

"They hate me because I'm better than they are." Jon seethed. He felt guilty, after having heard their stories, but he did not feel that it was their right to treat him as the outcast because of it.

"It's a lucky thing none of them were trained by a master-at-arms like your Ser Rodrik. I don't imagine any of them had ever held a real sword before they came here. I won't write your sister about this mess, I'm sure she'd ride North in an instant to beat some sense into you," Tyrion retorted, trying to get the bastard boy to see some sense himself. He was starting to believe that the Lady Caryssa's intellect had been handed down to her from her mother's side. Tyrion started to walk away, before he remembered the letter in his pocket. "Oh…Your brother Bran. He's woken up."

Jon snatched the offered paper wordlessly, only opening it once the dwarf was gone.

Bran was awake.

A double rap on her chamber door had the queen up in an instant, yanking the door open and closing it again as soon as her guest was through. She had heard the news about the Stark boy, and she was more than concerned.

"How could you be so stupid?" Cersei almost growled, like the lioness she truly was.

"Calm down." The man opposite her instructed, and she glared at him for that. How dare he tell her to calm down? When all she had built was at stake because of him?

"He's a child. Ten years old. What were you thinking?" Cersei questioned, her fingers fiddling with each other with her nerves. Bran Stark was awake, and, as far she knew, could not remember a thing of what he had seen.

If he had, her and her lover, they'd both be dead by now, their heads displayed for all to see above the city gates. Everything would be lost to her. Her children, her power, her crown. All lost for a moment of passion with the man she loved. Passion, love, they were both their own killers, she was starting to see.

"I was thinking of us. I was thinking of you. I had to protect you. It's a bit late to start complaining about it now, is it not? What has the boy told them?"

"Nothing. He said nothing. He remembers nothing." Cersei informed him, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the confusion on his face. If she knew one thing about men, is that it does not do well to damage their egos with a simple gesture such as a roll of the eyes. No matter how exasperating they may be.

"Then why are you worried? He doesn't remember. Doesn't that make us safe?" He asked, and Cersei almost sighed as she had to explain it to him.

If it had been Jaime, she doubted he'd be this clueless, but they had finished their forbidden tryst a good six years ago. Cersei wondered what he'd say if he were in Lancel's place. Probably something crude and mildly enraging, knowing her brother.

But he was not in Lancel's place. He was with the Stark girl, and suddenly, Cersei saw red for a whole new reason.

"What if it comes back to him? If he tells his father what he saw."

"We'll tell them he was lying. We'll say he was dreaming. We'll say whatever we like. I'm sure that they would not take the word of a ten year old over that of the queen." Lancel answered, trying to be reassuring.

"And my husband?"

"I'll kill him if I have to. Anything for you. You know that."

His words sounded sincere, and it only served to spark an idea in Cersei's mind. Anything for her? She would have to see about that.

A/N:

Hello, dear people of the internet!

Surprise! A new chapter, and much sooner than I had intended, but I've written four new chapters, and thought I'd post at least one since I had them all sitting there. In this chapter, we finally arrive at King's Landing, we have Caryssa lamenting her missing pack members, meeting Petyr Baelish, more Caryssa/Jaime fluff, Rhaenyra, Jon Snow at the Wall, and the reveal of who push Bran from the tower! So a lot happens in this chapter.

Also the wedding is coming up in a few chapters, which also means the wedding night is coming up. I have written that scene, but I'm kinda hesitant to include it. I don't usually write smut, but people earlier on in the story requested it, so I gave it a go. If people want to read it, I'll post it with the chapter, if you don't, I won't. So I will be starting a poll on my profile. Vote yes for smut, no for no smut. It's as simple as that.

Thank you to all those who reviewed and all the people who had followed and favourited. Support means the world and reviewers are my life-blood, so please drop one and let me know what you thought of this chapter.

Reviewers of the last chapter, I thank you, and you are:

DarylDixon'sLover, Lucy Greenhill, Skyeward MusicLover, ThatAwkwardCrazyAuthor, Sparky She-Demon, Lia Valentine (don't worry, Joffrey will be manipulated by Caryssa but much later in the story), NicoleR85, My mother is a koala, HermioneandMarcus, Hand of the Alex, Naruhina1519, jedi-stark, guest, 0netflixme0, Bella-swan11, DragonessUnderTheMountain, and Guest.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next one will be posted September 10th on Wednesday...if I can hold out that long. I'm trying to keep to a schedule but failing epically.

SophStratt

xox