"Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies."
-Mother Teresa
Chapter Thirteen – The Favor of the Wolf
The week following her wedding seemed to pass by in a blur. The following day after their wedding, Caryssa and Jaime had not left their bed. It took some convincing, but Jaime eventually managed to keep his little wife in his bed the whole day, learning all there was to know about her body, its likes and dislikes. Caryssa thought she knew what exhaustion felt like, when her limbs were heavy and aching, but she hadn't truly felt it until then, until Jaime had taken her in every which way he desired, and she desired, until they both collapsed onto the sheets, barely able to move past cuddling into each other once more.
They had settled in to a routine after that. Jaime would wake her by curling his fingers inside her, they'd fuck or make love, depending on whether or not she was happy to be woken, and then she'd linger in bed a while longer when he dressed and went to train with the other men of Kingsguard. Caryssa would then be dragged out of her bed by Daena, washed and dressed by her handmaiden, before she decided what she would do that day.
Being the future Lady of the Rock, when her husband decided to step down from the Kingsguard like he was offered, she had no real duties in the Keep, aside from breaking fast with the royal family on occasion. After the first time of breaking fast with the Baratheons, having the king ask her crude questions about her and Jaime's lovemaking, Cersei making snide comments, and the Prince following his father with rude statements about her sex life, she decided that she'd rather not make their visits a regular occurrence, preferring to break fast with Jamie alone, or with her own family.
This day, however, she did not have to struggle with something to occupy her time with while her husband did his duties to the king. This day was the beginning of the Tourney of the Hand. Knights from all over Westeros had journeyed to the capitol to take part, and people from all over had converged on the capitol to watch the festivities.
Caryssa was excited. Her mother had told her stories of tourneys, of knights and champions and the maidens that were selected to be the queen of love and beauty. She was not a foolish romantic like her sister, Sansa, but she did love those stories for the excitement and thrill she knew her mother must have felt being part of them.
When she woke that morning, Jaime had been slow with her, the way he had been when they first consummated their marriage, his thrusts languid and long, like he was trying not to tire himself before he took part in the day's events. It was only when she saw stars, her moans getting louder as she came, did he fasten his pace, chasing his own satisfaction, before he collapsed beside her.
Caryssa smiled once she caught her breath, turning to Jaime when she felt his eyes on her.
"I never thought you'd be so willing in my bed. Under all that ice is fire, like Tyrion said." Jaime commented, sweeping her hair over her naked shoulder.
She had many nightgowns, but with Jaime's never sated lust, she never had opportunity to wear them. She had tried once, but her lord husband had only gotten frustrated with the barrier between their bodies that he ripped it away from her. Caryssa had been livid, and showed him by digging her nails hard into him as he took her, biting down on his shoulder so hard she accidentally broke the skin. She didn't apologize and he didn't ask for one, simply chuckling at the mark, before pulling her into him.
"Our bed, husband. And a person cannot be both ice and fire. They'd melt from the heat and douse their own flames, and I'm sure you'd be positively overcome with sadness if your Ice Lady melted into nothing." She mocked him, as she crawled onto his lap, straddling him with a smirk on her lips.
"I'm sure I would. I've become quite used to returning to a dutiful and insatiable wife warming my-our bed," Jaime replied, his fingers gripping her hips slightly, correcting himself when she pinched his arm at his slip-up. He patted her on the rear, before pinning her to the bed in a move so quick she wasn't quite sure how he'd accomplished it. "And, as much as I'd like to take my sweet wife again and again until she could no longer move without being reminded of me rutting between her legs, I have a tourney to start winning."
Caryssa rolled her eyes at his arrogance as he reluctantly climbed off her with a parting kiss, and began to dress himself. His armor would be waiting for him in his tent by the tourney fields, so he simply pulled on his tunic, breeches and boots, turning back once he was dressed to find his wife watching him from under the covers of their bed.
He moved back towards her, remembering that he had one thing to claim from her before he left for the tourney, and perched himself on the edge of the bed, hand reached out to cup her cheek.
"Lady Caryssa Lannister, dear little wife, might I have your favor?" Jaime requested, his eyes sparkling as he teased her, daring her to say no. Caryssa smirked at him, pushing his hand away, before she climbed out of the bed. At first she had been hesitant to walk about their chambers naked in front of him, but she had done it once and he'd taken her roughly against the wall, and Caryssa had decided that perhaps being more of an exhibitionist was not so unwelcomed.
"How do you know that I haven't already given my favor to one of your competitors?" Caryssa asked him, as she picked the dress she would wear for the start of the tourney. Picking a dress of light blue, a color that made the Tully blue of her eyes stand out, with fur trim around the sleeves, she turned to him and held it against her frame for his approval. Not that it mattered. She dressed for herself, but she found she liked the little morning routine they had developed.
"Who would you give your favor to if not your husband?" Jaime questioned, as he nodded, liking the look of the light blue against her fair skin. She did not have any Lannister colors in her wardrobe, and Jaime wondered what she would look like in crimson. He'd have to have the royal seamstress make her some gowns. He couldn't have people think that she was still a Stark in name, not when she was his now.
"I heard Lord Loras of House Tyrell would be in the joust today. Perhaps I gave him my favor. I've heard he's quite handsome." Caryssa teased, as she pulled the dress on, reaching behind her to pull on the laces she could reach, until his hands replaced hers.
He tugged tighter than was necessary, causing his wife to scowl and grip her vanity table for support. Even Septa Mordane was gentler than him, and she pulled her dresses so tight that she sometimes struggled to breathe. When her dress was tied, Jaime spun her in his arms, and pressed his mouth to hers, possessing her completely, but just when she started to respond, he pulled away.
"Who are you giving your favor to, wife?" Jaime smirked in victory at her dazed, heavy-lidded gaze, until she rolled her eyes at him.
"As irritating and oddly attractive as I find your strangely possessive habits, please do not attack the Tyrell boy just because I said that I heard he was attractive," Caryssa instructed, as she turned to her vanity table and picked up her direwolf pin. It was important to her. More important than scraps of ribbon or a handkerchief with her initials sewn into the corner. She turned back to him, her fingers stroking the silver pin reverently, before she held it out to him. "Here is my favor, husband. Don't lose it or damage it, or I'll have your head. It was a present from my uncle Brandon before he died. He gave it to me for my second namesday. It's all I have of him."
Jaime nodded, taking the pin, before mentally planning where he would put it on his person for the crowds to see. If her favor had come in the form of a ribbon or handkerchief it would have been all too easy to tie it around the armor protecting his arm, but now he'd have to think of something much cleverer.
Caryssa smiled, as Jaime looked thoughtful, before she continued to get ready. Turning to her jewelry box, she pulled out her necklace and fastened it around her neck, just as Daena knocked to announce herself, opening their chamber door, Rhaenyra scrambling inside to see her mistress. The direwolf guarded their door at night, even though they had acquired her a large dog bed that was placed near the fire.
"Oh, my lady, you're already dressed!" Daena exclaimed in surprise. Caryssa had to hold in a chuckle at that, as she crouched down to pet her wolf. Her first week of sharing a bed with a man, with Jaime, had left her quite useless when it came to getting herself ready for the day.
"My hair still needs brushing and braiding, Daena, if that's alright?" Caryssa asked, ignoring Jaime when he scoffed. He had come to realize that his wife was probably more courteous and polite to servants and the common folk than she was to high-born lords and ladies, and it amused him to no end, even after she explained that it must be a difficult job rushing about to clean up after lords and ladies while catering to their every whim.
"Of course, my lady." Daena replied, moving towards her charge, ushering her into the chair in front of the vanity and taking her long, ebony locks into her hand to begin combing it through.
"I'll look for you in the stands, little wife."
"I'll be sitting with Sansa and Arya, so find Sansa's flame-red hair and I'll be the slightly taller woman in blue." Caryssa teased him, hearing him chuckle as he left their chambers, whistling for her wolf to follow.
Surprisingly, Jaime and Rhaenyra had taken quite well to each other. Caryssa was expecting to have to keep Rhaenyra with Arya, fearing that she'd decide she didn't like her mistress' new husband and try to attack him. Jaime joined them on their walks in the gardens and she knew that he sneaked the wolf extra food when he thought she wasn't looking. Rhaenyra trusted him, and it made Caryssa trusting him that much easier, because she knew that her wolf's intuition when it came to people was always on point.
Caryssa did not worry about why he had called for the direwolf, guessing that he was going to take Rhaenyra to relieve herself, before sending her back with a squire. She just hoped he'd pick someone who wouldn't wet themselves with fear at the animal. When she and Rhaenyra would walk the gardens, anybody she encountered would turn and walk away as quickly as possible, except for Baelish. The couple times she had walked Rhaenyra without Jaime, when he had been back on duty, she'd almost always bumped into Baelish.
She didn't like him. That stare, the glint in his eyes, the smirk on his lips. The way she always had to replay his words and work out the underlying meaning. He was ambitious, Jaime had told her so, but just how far he would go for power is what remained to be seen. Caryssa knew that he was casting doubt over Tyrion, and she just hoped that her mother was wise enough not to try and find the little lion without her father finding any proof.
So caught up in her musings, she barely noticed that Daena had finished braiding her hair.
"What do you think, my lady?"
"It's beautiful, Daena. Thank you. Sansa will envy your handiwork." Caryssa praised, rising to her feet, as Daena stepped away to her oak trunk and found a pair of blue shoes to wear to match her dress, while Caryssa strapped her dagger to her leg as soon as her maid's back was turned. She liked Daena well enough, but she suspected that the girl was under Cersei's thumb, so didn't want the fact that she wore a secret dagger to get back to the queen.
She slipped on the pair of shoes, murmuring her thanks to Daena as the girl led her out to her and Jaime's solar to eat her morning meal. It was fruits mainly, bread, butter and jam, and some bacon. Caryssa ate quickly, knowing that soon she'd have the impatient knocking of Arya on her solar door, and as though her sister sensed that thought, the rapping on the wood started.
Daena let them in, not surprised to see Rhaenyra back with them as Arya led her in by her leash, smiling politely at Septa Mordane who was chaperoning them.
"Have you both eaten?" Caryssa questioned, noticing the leftover food she had not consumed herself.
"They ate well when they broke their fast this morning." Septa Mordane answered for them, and Caryssa nodded, turning to Daena.
"Have you eaten this morning?"
"Not yet, my lady. The household staff eat after their lords and ladies." Daena replied, and Caryssa ushered her into her vacated seat, ignoring the girl's protests. She knew that Daena would eat with the rest of the staff in the kitchens later, maybe some leftover fruit and bread, but she knew that a growing girl like Daena needed to eat more. She thought her maid to be a little too skinny than what was healthy.
"I insist that you help yourself to some food. Once you've eaten, you can tend to your chores," Caryssa declared, her tone of voice not leaving much room for argument, and Daena shook her head. "Septa Mordane and I will be taking the girls to watch the tourney, so you will have most of the day to yourself to do as you wish. Just make sure that someone takes Rhaenyra for her walk around midday."
"That's most kind of you, my lady. Thank you."
Caryssa smiled, before she gestured for her sisters and the septa to follow her from the room.
"Are you excited for the tourney, Ryssa? Did you give Ser Jamie your favor?" Sansa questioned, as they began their walk to the tourney grounds. Caryssa turned her head to smile softly at her younger sister, who had looped their arms almost as soon as they had walked out of the door. Arya walked on Caryssa's other side, though Caryssa knew that there would be no hand holding with the little she-wolf. It just wasn't her.
"I am and I did." Caryssa answered, and Sansa looked her sister over, trying to see what was amiss so she knew what to look for. Sansa had thought she would have given him the necklace Aunt Lyanna had given her when she was a babe to wear, but it still hung from her neck. Then Sansa saw it, or rather didn't see it. Her direwolf brooch that she usually pinned to her dresses was missing. Caryssa almost jumped in the air, when Sansa started to laugh, the laugh light and twinkling but louder than she was used to from the young girl.
"You got Ser Jaime to wear your direwolf pin. The golden lion wearing the pin depicting his silver she-wolf. He must love you," Sansa stated, and Caryssa kept up her smile. She did not want to ruin Sansa's romantic notions of knights and their ladies. She knew that she and Jaime weren't in love. They were…content in their marriage, in each other's company, but it wasn't love. She wasn't fool enough to believe that their marriage and clear physical attraction equaled love. "Joffrey doesn't even like me."
"One thing you have to learn about men, sweet sister, is that their egos are easily bruised and dented, easier than they are swollen and inflated. When Nymeria attacked him and Arya bested him, it wounded his ego and his pride, and he's angry at you because you witnessed it all," Caryssa stated, trying to soothe her sister's mind. "You'll just have to wait for him to come to his senses. He's just a boy, after all. If he doesn't…perhaps I can persuade my husband to meddle."
"Do you think he will? Joffrey, I mean. Do you think he will come to his senses?"
"I do. No doubt the queen will help him. Men always need a little nudge from a woman to see sense, before they claim that they figured it all out themselves," Caryssa joked, causing a smile to brighten her sister's face again. "I'm sure everything will turn out right in the end."
The tourney had not yet begun, but the King was already drunk, wine spilling out of his ivory drinking horn when he wasn't focused on it. Caryssa rolled her eyes, and turned her head back to the field. They were seated close to the royal box, just in front of Lord Renly, the King's younger brother. There was a space next to Caryssa meant for her father, but he had other matters to tend to, and would most likely not be able to attend until the next day.
She saw Sansa smile up at Joffrey in her peripheral vision, and saw him look away, leaving her sister disappointed. Caryssa took her hand and squeezed it about to open her mouth to remind her to give it time, when another voice sent chills down her spine and stopped her.
"Lover's quarrel?"
"I'm sorry. Do I…?" Sansa trailed off, not really knowing what to say to the strange man towering over her sister where she sat. She noticed that Caryssa did not seem very pleased to see him, feeling her sister's hand grip hers just a little bit tighter and knew that Caryssa did not trust him. So Sansa was hesitant to as well.
"Sansa dear, this is Lord Baelish. He was at your sister's wedding." Septa Mordane informed her, and Caryssa faked a smile for the man.
"And what a beautiful bride she made. I hope married life is to your liking, Lady Lannister?" Baelish inquired, and Caryssa nodded, though she had no real desire to talk to Littlefinger about her marriage.
"It's been an enlightening experience. Jaime has been very kind to me," Caryssa answered honestly, as he sat beside her, smiling that odd smile that unnerved her. She turned her head to face Sansa. "Lord Baelish is an old friend of mother's when she was still living at Riverrun."
"Yes, I've known your mother a long, long time." Baelish added, smiling at the two girls who reminded him so much of his unrequited love.
Sansa was Catelyn in body, but that stubbornness and polite courtesy in Caryssa did not simply come from the Starks. He knew the she-wolf did not trust him, not yet, but he could sway her. Her blue eyes were precisely the same shade as her mothers, enough that if her hair was colored red, he could be looking at a young Catelyn. The world talked about Caryssa because of how similar to her deceased aunt she looked, but Petyr could see her likeness to Catelyn, in the way she held herself, her eyes and the curve of her mouth. The She-Wolf of the North was not hundred percent Stark, as she liked to believe. She was equal parts Tully too.
"Why do they call you Littlefinger?" Arya questioned, much to the shock of Sansa and her septa. Baelish could see that the new Lady of Lannister was not surprised by her youngest sister's curiosity, sighing to herself and he could see that she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
"Don't be rude!" The girl's septa scolded, but Caryssa was surprised when Baelish simply chuckled.
"No, it's quite all right," Lord Baelish stated, and turned his body so it was more angled towards the four women. "When I was a child, I was very small, and I come from a little spit of land called the Fingers, so you see, it's an exceedingly clever nickname. Almost as clever as the Beauty of the North is to describe a beautiful Northern lady."
"Have you placed a bet on today's tourney, Lord Baelish?" Caryssa questioned, ignoring the unpleasant shiver she had suffered from his attempt at flattery.
"No, my lady. I have learned my lesson when it comes to gambling, but I am certain that your lord husband will most likely win. He normally does when the king allows him to compete. Did you give him your favor?"
"He is my husband, Lord Baelish. It would not be appropriate to give my favor to any of the other knights."
"No, I suppose-" Caryssa was almost thankful for the King's next drunken outburst, though she could see that the Queen certainly wasn't, when it cut off whatever Lord Baelish was going to say next.
"I've been sitting here for days!" King Robert bellowed, still clutching the ivory drinking horn in hand. "Start the damn joust before I piss myself!"
Caryssa did not blame Cersei when she rose from her seat and disappeared, a stone-faced expression still unable to hide her displeasure at her husband's antics, as she knew that if Jaime ever dared to embarrass her in such a way, she would probably ban him from her body for weeks.
The crowds still cheered at his words however, especially when the first two knights to joust appeared. Baelish noticed that the Stark girls all seemed to be transfixed at whoever was riding towards the king from behind him, and turned his head to see who it could be.
Dark heavy armor cladded the knight atop a dark horse, and Baelish knew who it was in an instant.
"Gods, who's that?" Sansa questioned, unable to comprehend how that poor horse was able to seat so big a man. The man was monstrous in size. Almost like a mountain, Caryssa thought.
"Ser Gregor Clegane. They call him the Mountain," Caryssa's lips curved up into a slight smile at her thoughts being reality. Clegane. The name was familiar to her, but she could not remember why. She knew it was one of the Houses of Westeros, but she felt it was more familiar than that. "The Hound's older brother."
"And his opponent?" Caryssa asked, and Littlefinger quickly obliged her with an answer.
"Ser Hugh of the Vale. He was Jon Arryn's squire. Look how far he's come." Littlefinger informed her, a smirk on his lips that led her to believe that there was more to Ser Hugh of the Vale than she knew, particularly about how he had been knighted from a lowly squire.
She pondered the thought, barely listening to the King as he told them to 'have at him'.
The two riders turned away from each other, riding to their posts to the sound of fanfare. Their squires handed them their lances and shields depicting their houses, and Caryssa suddenly felt ill at ease, which only grew as the jousters charged at each other.
The first encounter between the two knights was nothing all that thrilling, though the Mountain came closest to hitting Ser Hugh.
The second charge…Caryssa's hand gripped Sansa's tightly, her eyes widened in shock. Sansa had screamed slightly in horror, while the rest of the crowd gasped in surprise. The Mountain and Ser Hugh had rode towards each other, but the Mountain stabbed his lance into Ser Hugh's neck, the wood splintering off and forcing the newly-made knight off of his horse.
The knight from the Vale lay on the ground, helplessly, as he choked on his own blood, drowning in it.
Caryssa kept a cold mask of indifference, knowing that she was being inspected by Baelish and others, finding comfort in her sister's hand squeezing hers and the sight of Jory on the other side of the tourney grounds. Sansa had paled at the sight of the dead knight, while Arya had seemed oddly fascinated but still shocked, and Baelish noticed the tightness of the new Lady Lannister's jaw, as he leaned in to talk to her once more.
"Not what you were expecting? Has anyone told you the story of the Mountain and the Hound?" Caryssa and Sansa both shook their heads, both of them turning their heads slightly to gaze back at Joffrey's guard, the man with the scarred face. "Lovely little tale of brotherly love."
Caryssa forced herself to stare at the muddied ground below the stands, not wanting the Hound to catch them staring, noticing that Arya and Septa Mordane were now listening to Baelish's tale.
"The Hound was just a pup, six years old maybe. Gregor a few years older, already a big lad, already getting a bit of a reputation. Some lucky boys just born with a talent for violence," Baelish's breath was hot on her neck, a testament to how close he believed he could get to her. Caryssa strongly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 'Lucky boys just born with a talent for violence'? Violent was not something that one should relish in being. "One evening, Gregor found his little brother playing with a toy by the fire – Gregor's toy, a wooden knight. Gregor never said a word, he just grabbed his brother by the scruff of his neck and shoved his face into the burning coals. Held him there while the boy screamed, while his face melted. There aren't many people who know that story."
"I won't tell anyone. I promise. Ryssa won't either." Sansa murmured, and Caryssa resisted the childish urge to tell Baelish that she wouldn't keep the story to herself, but common sense had her bite her tongue. She knew that Baelish was not a man to openly cross. He had spies everywhere, Jaime had told her, and he knew as many secrets as the Spider, Lord Varys. He was also clever enough to have her own mother under his thumb, and perhaps her father too, but she would not be so easily fooled.
Baelish was not someone to trust, nor would she want him to be on the opposing side. For now, she would continue to play him, as he was attempting to play her and her little sister.
"No, please don't. If the Hound so much as heard you mention it, I'm afraid all the knights in King's Landing would not be able to save you."
The rest of that day's tournament went by in a blur. Caryssa found herself barely paying attention to the jousts, clapping mindlessly with every victory, managing to gasp if a knight was injured or killed as brutally as Ser Hugh had been.
Her mind had been suddenly overcome with unpleasant thoughts; Lord Baelish and his dark words to Sansa, her mother and her temper getting herself into trouble on the road, her father and his curiosity…Once a thought entered her mind, she found it a hard battle to remove it.
She knew King's Landing to be a dangerous place. The game the lords and ladies played here was a deadly one, one that Caryssa was hesitantly dipping her toes into. She had not wanted to be here, but now she was and had little choice in the matter. Her mother's words were Family, Duty, Honor, so she was had no choice but to stay at her husband's side. Not unless her family needed her. Family came first, duty second and honor last. She did not want anything to happen to her father or sisters, and she would strive to make sure that it didn't, but Baelish's words had her tense.
Lord Tyrion, her good-brother, should be on his way out of the North by now, possibly near Riverrun, coinciding with her mother's should-be whereabouts. This thought had Caryssa praying to all seven gods. She hoped her mother would be able to keep her temper, to think about what the consequences would be should she act rashly. The last thing Westeros needed was another war.
She knew that her father was doing some investigations into the last Hand's death and she was inwardly terrified, both by what he might discover and what it would lead to. She knew the people here. Murder and lies and secrets were not below any of them, perhaps not even Jaime, and she could only imagine the great lengths the corrupt would go to keep their wrongs buried. Caryssa did not want her father to get hurt, or for his actions to cause a war, because his curiosity and honor could not keep him from unearthing truths that people wanted to remain in the dark.
It was only when Sansa nudged her was she pulled away from her panicked thoughts and back to the tournament. Caryssa focused on the sight in front of her and saw a sight that brought a smile to her face.
Jaime sat upon a white steed, in magnificent red and black armor, the lion emblazoned in gold upon his chest. He was not competing for the King or the crown, but for House Lannister and, despite her hatred and imbedded mistrust of all things Lannister (always forgetting that she was technically part of that family now), Caryssa found herself smiling more widely.
"Look, Ryssa! Your direwolf pin is tacked onto Ser Jaime's saddle!" Arya beamed at her, and Caryssa chuckled, happy to feel Baelish bristling beside her in quiet annoyance.
Caryssa tuned out Sansa's girlish giggling about how romantic it was for Jaime to so openly display his love for his she-wolf and focused on her husband's opposition. He was a Kettleblack, she hadn't heard which, but he looked intimidating in his armor and wondered if he would pose a threat to Jaime. She did not love her husband, nor did she fully trust him, but she would not wish him hurt, especially after he had been so kind to her the past couple of weeks.
"Ryssa, he's coming this way."
"Who?" Caryssa questioned, not taking her eyes off of Jaime's opponent.
"My sweet little wife, might I trouble you for a good luck kiss?" Caryssa rolled her eyes as she turned her eyes forward, and arched a brow at her husband as he moved his horse as close to the stands as possible, his helmet tucked underneath his arm as he gazed at her in amusement.
"I gave you my favor, husband. Is that not good luck enough?" She asked, biting back a whelp as Sansa pinched her in the side and did her very best not to yell at her little sister. She was also trying to ignore the whispering behind her from other lords and ladies, all but tuning out their hushed voices as she put her focus on Jaime.
"Perhaps your husband needs all the luck he can get, my lady." Baelish suggested snidely, and Caryssa rose to her feet, brushing imaginary specks of dirt off of her skirt, before taking a couple steps to the banister of the stand.
"I don't think so, but I suppose there is no harm in having luck to spare," Caryssa smirked, leaning towards her husband and pressing her lips firmly to his. It was a brief kiss, for dignity's sake, but it seemed to please Jaime all the same. "There. Good luck, Ser Jaime."
Jaime nodded, a smirk on his face, before he rode off to his starting position. The king had stopped all the 'pomp', preferring all action to start as quickly as possible, so Jaime and the Kettleblack man moved to their appropriate sides, both fully armored now.
Once the fanfare died down, they charged.
Caryssa's heart thundered in her chest as the Kettleblack man tried to thrust his lance at Jaime's neck, probably hoping to accomplish an end like Ser Hugh's, but he missed. The Lannister lion, however, did not. Jaime's lance hit his opponent straight in the chest, sending the man flying off of his horse and into the dirt.
All three Stark girls rose to their feet to applaud Jaime's quick victory, and Caryssa could picture the satisfied smugness that would be hidden underneath his helmet. She felt this warm feeling in her chest and, for a moment, struggled to place it until she tried to think of other times she had felt like this.
When she had helped Robb to walk for the first time. The time that Jon first beat Theon in a duel at training. When Sansa had stayed in the birthing chamber with her and the Septa to see little Rickon born. The first time Arya hit a bull's-eye with the bow. When Bran climbed for the first time and didn't hurt himself. When Rickon's first word was 'Ryssa'. Anytime she had seen her father with his men and the devotion they had for him. The time her mother pushed aside her jealousy and hatred and looked after Jon when he was sick as a young boy.
It was pride, she realized. She was proud of her husband and his win.
She shook her head, not noticing that Baelish was scrutinizing her closely, watching her smile tighten at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes gloss over the way Catelyn's always did when she was in deep thought.
In a matter of moments, Caryssa had become deeply concerned. Her father, her uncles, her mother, practically all the adults that she knew and loved and trusted, had always told her as she grew to never trust a Lannister.
Deep down, Caryssa knew that she could say truthfully that she did not trust Cersei, not one bit, nor her eldest offspring. Myrcella and Tommen seemed harmless, but Joffrey was something else entirely. Caryssa did not know Tywin, but the stories were enough. She would never like her goodfather, nor trust him. Tyrion was a grey area. She definitely liked him. He was witty and kind and liked it when she spoke her mind, and even though he was a Lannister, he had kept his promise to look after Jon at the Wall.
With Jaime, however, it should have been clear cut and defined. He was her husband, but it was not a marriage born from love. It was a political marriage. A way to guarantee her safety in King's Landing. She should not like him or trust him, because he was the Queen's brother, the one Cersei actually liked, and because he was a man without honor.
Yet, she did trust him and she did like him, without her even realizing it. Somehow, Caryssa knew that this would not bode well for her.
Never trust a Lannister, she thought, but now I am one. The gods certainly do have a strange sense of humor.
Caryssa watched her husband take off his helmet, shaking out his golden hair, before his eyes connected with hers, and she found her smile widening when he grinned back at her.
Gods, was she in trouble.
A/N:
Hi guys! Long time, no see!
First of all, I am so sorry for the lateness of this chapter. I have had a terrible two months, with health issues and a particularly nasty review that accused me of plagiarism, which was untrue and I have not heard back from my accuser since they left the review, and it left me with no motivation, no inspiration and no confidence in my writing.
But this is me, attempting to bounce back from it all and move on from it.
There isn't much excitement in this chapter, sorry, but there is more Jaime/Caryssa fluffy times, more Stark sister moments and another interaction between a suspicious Caryssa and Littlefinger, so I hope you enjoyed those. The real excitement is almost here though, with harder times on the horizon with the end of the tourney and the end of tourney feast, Ned discovering more about Cersei's treachery and Jaime and Ned's showdown.
This is the part where I thank everyone who reviewed on the last chapter, all 30 of you! I couldn't quite believe it when I saw that, and it has definitely made my day a lot better.
So thank you to;
NicoleR85, Lucy Greenhill, Blloom1234, IKhandoZatman, NZgleek91, HermioneandMarcus, iLSN, Guest (1), Guest (2), The Auburn Girl, Bella-swan11, Sparky She-Demon, 0netflixme0, shipwreck321, somersset, Lioness32, babiluv22, Jess Grape, Guest (3), MADStar529, G (4), peace486, guest (5), Lilo23, Guest (6), KD, IvyontheWall, G (7), Guest (8) andEvaline101.
The next update will be on the Wednesday 24th December so look out for it.
I love you guys and I hope you enjoyed this chapter,
SophStratt.