A/N: 'sup? First off, many many apologies for the late update..I have been SWAMPED with Uni work and working on my book -and this was probably the hardest chapter to write, you'll see why. If I am being realistic this is probably how it's gonna keep going. I got the feeling my latest chapter may not have been as well received as the others, so please tell me what I could do better and i'll take it into account. As for this chapter, I don't want to spoil anything that's coming but it'll be a very...full chapter. What do I mean? Wait and see.

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Lorraine

As I returned to my chambers to check on Amber with a smile still creasing in my features I reminded myself not to linger too long as I had made up my mind to speak to Damion shortly about the state of the main hall, the Gods only know I needed a distraction.

If I were being mindful though, I could in earnest say that the main dining hall was not all too bad...or so i'd never tell Jaime. Perhaps it was just so different from Ashemark, so lacking in the warmth I had reveled in for all my years.

The air was warm as I entered, and it made think when would the time come for fires to start being lit around the rooms -and whether I would need it without Jaime by my side. Shaking off thoughts that I would have much rather kept at bay I walked in to my bedroom in search of a certain naughty cat.

As my eyes scoured the room desperately for a bundle of orange curled in a corner they settled on one of Jaime's tunics carelessly lying on the floor. I picked it up and examined it closely for any stains, I had no idea why. Instead, I found that one of the buttons had fallen off and I sighed out in only slight frustration as I came to think of how exactly my grown husband had managed that. It was strange how Jaime was unarguably older than I but at times, when the light was right and the mood merry, he was the Handsome young Knight I had heard so many people speak of.

My eye brows furrowed at the sight and I decided that I would not be the wife that would leave my husband's shirts to the staff -at least not yet. I could handle a button, after all. No sooner had I turned around to face the door again I was met by Myra and my curious cat slithering around by her feet,

"Apologies for the intrusion, M'lady." I waved her off, instead focusing on the letter shining above the well polished tray.

"You've had a raven from Fair Isle, M'lady" My eyes widened in an alarm I could not yet process and I greedily rushed to pick up the sealed letter with Jaime's tunic under my arm.

I slowed myself down, knowing that I had to brace myself for any news I might expect to find. So I lifted my head, now feeling extraordinarily warm, and gave Myra leave to exit. I moved to the seats in our lounge and almost instinctually Amber came to my side and rest her warm head on my skirts.

Breathing in deep, I tore the seal and opened the letter to read.

Dearest Lorraine,

It's been a while since i've last written, I know, but things have gotten slightly hectic. But do not fret! I still have time for you.

I know there is something glaringly obvious we had not discussed...and I thank you dearly for not bringing it up to me before. I was admittedly undecided. But now I can say, in terms of my marriage, I am beginning to find happiness.

Even through your letters, i'm glad you never asked about Jason in detail -for I would have never found it in me to lie about it. I will admit...I thought him boring at first. And I longed for you and everyone so badly! Oh how badly...you will never know. I thought i'd never find laughter like I did in Ashemark. But i've come to know my husband better than that. And he is a good man, I am happy to report. He is quiet, but he tries -he truly does. You would like him, i'm sure. He is a man of the land as well! I once ran out of earthy toned paints and he concocted some sort of mixture using berries and some sort of powder and some oil...it's very interesting if you'd give it a chance!

I have missed you ever so dearly. I laugh still, but it is a dull laugh in comparison to the ones in your presence. How I miss everyone! Father as well...perhaps I should write him a letter after I have finished yours...is it too soon to arrange a visit? Or some kind of a reunion? Casterly Rock is not at all that far away you know. Or would Lord Lannister prefer to keep you all to himself? If so, please send him regards and tell him to take mercy on a loving sister. Or perhaps you should come to Fair Isle? It is quite splendid here...it's very charming! Granted, it may not as be as grand as The Rock, but still, charming.

Please write back soon...and give Amber a snuggle for me.

Your Sister,

Elaine.

It was clear to me that my days were far darker than I had originally thought them to be, since what I had expected was sure destruction and chaos. It brought me little relief, for some reason, to know that all was well with Elaine and her new life. I could not decide if I felt bitter about that or if I had grown bitter long before that. Was I so absorbed and sure of the possibility of a threat that I had immediately accepted what pain might come with it? Elaine is fine, and she is happy, and that should matter to me more than anything else. But as of now, all I could think of after reading her letter was whether I was truly as happy as she. I thought I was, but I am starting to see the edges of the dark cloud hanging over me and it frightens me. I had never thought of myself as a pessimist, would being a Lannister change that?

Brushing the thought aside, especially since it would not help me with the predicament itself, I looked down once more to the flimsy tunic laying at my side and decided I would take action on something I could at least control. I reached for my sewing kit on the side table and recalled that I had placed the button into a different box.

As I picked up the gold-traced box I found that it was unlatched, which I found strange since I had not used it in a while. I sat down once more in my seat and Amber did me the courtesy of staying by my side. I treated her with a smooth brush of the back as I prepared my apparatus for my domestic duty.

After I had carefully and successfully smoothed the white soft white thread through my needle I opened up my button box to look for an appropriate button, but what I found was not at all what I had been looking for.

It was a scrunched up letter that I had not read before now, in a hand that I had not seen before now. The bells ringing in my head to stop reading it came all too late as my eyes skimmed through the page -there was no time to justify it.

"Greetings, Brother" It said on the page, clear as day. This is Jaime and I's room, could this be Jaime's brother? Could this be Tyrion Lannister?

My mind went frantic as I scrambled through the note trying to grasp at as many straws as I could find.

"You so kindly let me out of that prison our sister had put me in and sent me off with the Spider" If this was Jaime, that means that he was responsible for releasing the man who had killed his nephew...why would he do that? And why would he not tell me?

"Found myself in Meereen, as a loyal advisor to Danaerys Targaryen" The exiled Targaryen girl? What business would he have with the Mad King's daughter?

"We have a problem" Oh, dear.

"Has flown off on the back of one of her most unruly -and deadly dragons" Dragons? What in the world is he speaking of? Dragons have not been around for hundreds and hundreds of years? What sense am I to make of any of this?

The next thing I read could do nothing but make my heart drop.

"Greyjoys are willing to go for another rebellion"

"History of the Greyjoys completely destroying Lannister fleets"

"His brother plans on claiming the West personally"

"Capture Euron. Kill him."

So the Greyjoys truly were advancing, if Tyrion was to be believed. That means that...Elaine can't be safe. It means that none of us are safe. And if Tyrion speaks the truth then it is up to Jaime to end Euron himself. But how long had Jaime known? How long had Jaime soothed my concerns and hushed my worries just to lie to me about the impending invasion? Even with this letter, whatever kind of a warning it may be, there is no surety in the matter. Jaime could capture Euron or we could all perish before he sets foot outside of Casterly Rock. And how long was Jaime planning on waiting to take action? He says it is his duty to take action, but where is the action in this? What is he waiting for? For someone to die?

I felt dizzy, and angry, and it was only then that I found the ending of the letter that came after the cryptic signature.

"I hope she is lovely. I am surprised your dear Addam Marbrand would so readily give his permission to fuck his sister. But am I really?"

What kind of a man is this? I was sizzling, fuming with red-hot anger and this child of a man who I had not even ever met was giving me grief via a cryptic raven.

I had so many questions, and someone needed to answer for them. Where is Jaime?

Daven

Harrion Karstark. That was his name. The man who's father had killed his own. His revenge had been robbed from him from the Boy King who no longer is, and every moment of his remaining life Daven thirsted and dreamt of a way to avenge his fallen father. Even now as he sat across from his cousin Jaime, awaiting yet another order he had to burden himself with, all he could think of was Harrion Karstark. He had been told of Harrion's cousin declaring for Stannis Baratheon was a weak attempt to get Harrion executed for a play for Karhold, but he had no joy in an obviously flawed plan when he was not the one behind it or in front of it. He wanted to swing his sword, and he wanted blood to drip from it.

A better man may have reasoned that it was not Harrion's fault that his father had slew Daven's, but Daven would argue that it had been his revenge to bear -and his to execute. He swore to himself, day and night, he would not rest until he had avenged his father. And perhaps then he would find peace.

"Your attention would be ideal, Daven" He smiled and looked down at his fingers knowing charm would get him nowhere with his cousin. Jaime Lannister demanded his undivided attention and for now, Daven would have to give it to him.

That being said, Daven did notice a queer spring in Jaime's step. Something about the way he held himself right at that moment seemed like he has come up with something. Something with purpose and innovation, and something that breathed new life into the dead. Daven hoped it would be something worth-while, and not some desperate attempt at uniqueness.

"You have it, my Lord. Tell me, what is on your mind?"

"I've decided to change the terms of Edmure's move to King's Landing." Interesting, Daven thought. He had always thought it a little too...lenient, but then again he was not too interested in politics, so what would he know?

"Oh? What would these changes entail?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Lady Tully, and by extension her babe, will not be joining Lord Tully in King's Landing."

He could not help but widen his eyes in alarm at that statement.

"At least not right now." Jaime smoothly followed with. He noticed him shuffling nervously under his newly scrutinising gaze and he gave him an odd smile in a way to get a response out of him.

Daven opened his mouth and shut it again trying to find the words to start with.

"Why?" He could only ask at this point.

"We'd have more leverage this way,"

"Yes but, we've already told him we're taking his whole family there with him. If we go back on our word-"

"We never gave him our word."

"Regardless, don't you think it would rattle him? Do we really need to risk that?"

"If he is rattled enough to rebel he will be executed and his execution could in no way be disputed -that was the whole reason this plan works. The Crown shows mercy, and if he is ungrateful to it then his end will be justified. It's that simple." Jaime was starting to look to Daven like he was growing more and more irritated at having to explain himself, even though he had welcomed the idea of Daven's commentary.

"I just don't see how the advantages weigh out the possibility of things going wrong. That's all." He did not know how else he could possibly put it.

"And I am telling you that you can not see the bigger picture. With Edmure in King's Landing knowing we still have his family he will be obliged to play the dutiful part -especially when first impressions are so important." Daven could only see that it was right to argue,

"But would he not have already done that with his family with him? I honestly do not think it necessary and I feel like I should repeat that it would not be in our favour to anger him shortly before our departure-"

"I am your Liege Lord Daven-" And it was at that point that Daven had to break away from the formalities that had for so long tied him down,

"And I am Hand of the King, my Lord."

He was now caught in a heated stare with his elder cousin whom he had so openly challenged. The look the older Lannister returned to Daven was one of contempt, to say the least, and Daven watched in awe as his cousin's face slowly cooled back to an indifferent air of neutrality and he leaned back in his seat to regard Daven like a prey awaiting an attack.

"Don't forget who put you there. Especially since I would have no issue removing you."

Now, Daven saw things for what they really were. He was under someone's thumb, there was no denying it. And it was not as if he cared so much about what power-play they were to pull next, but his loud mouth did nothing to help him.

"So I assume that I have just agreed to be another pawn in this game?" At that, Jaime shook his head.

"No. That is, you don't have to be. I chose you because I knew you had substance. You're a good leader. But most of all, I knew you were someone we trusted, and I knew you would serve our family well. You are loyal, above all else. And that is why I am trusting you with this."

Daven gulped down and thought to himself about whether Jaime Lannister really did know better than he. Granted, he was older -but not all old men were wise. He had lived in court almost all of his life and served four Kings -one of which died at his own hand. Could Jaime Lannister truly know better? He did not yet know, but he decided to entrust the same loyalty and faith Jaime had spoken of back into him just far enough to find out.

"I understand," he said as he got up. He never liked simmering too long in the face of defeat -or compliance.

Just as he was about to turn he heard Jaime add,

"When you get to King's Landing, I need you to announce at the first Small Council meeting that Casterly Rock is calling in their loans to the crown."

He turned, swift and confused and altogether startled that Jaime had taken in his recommendation after stomping on it so assuredly.

"What?"

"With interest. You said it yourself, I have a campaign to run. I need the coin for it."

"But, how am I to get them to agree?"

Jaime got up and walked over to Daven, bringing his heavy hand to his shoulder and squeezing it tightly, almost in a warning.

"Talk to Randyl Tarly. Get it done."

He nodded, and hoped for his own sake that it was not to be taken as a sign of obedience. Before he left Jaime added that since he was on his way and Jaime himself had "more work to do" that Daven should inform Edmure of the changes. He disliked how nonchalantly Jaime regarded the task, how he had waved his good hand at him to do his bidding -as if Daven was not all too aware that Jaime had no interest in facing Edmure himself.

He walked down to the hostage's chambers in a dazed fume, his brain was in overdrive -thinking, planning, scheming. He thought of how to avenge his father, and what twisted ways he could hurt Harrion Karstark. I will take your sister as a wife, have you executed, inherit your castle, piss on its walls and set it on fire. It was the only thing to calm him, violence. An agenda that gave him purpose.

When he finally made his way to enter to see Lord Tully, how is in no surprising way still solemnly in his chambers, Daven found that he had far less regard about the matter now than he did when he was walking up to the room. Was this how it worked? Would he just distract himself with a nontrivial task of revenge and violence while he did another's bidding? Is this how he was to survive? Was he becoming Jaime Lannister?

He told Edmure the news in much the same fashion he could imagine Jaime doing. When the words finally left him in icy departure Daven watched as the ornamental vases flew off the table at Edmure's command and force. He watched as Edmure thrashed his fist on the table and walls over and over until they were bloody. He watched as the room vibrated at his booming commands and fury reigned his features -and he wondered just how much that would cost them all.

Jaime

Jaime could feel himself change. He had never done as he had done earlier in his study. He had never felt as he had felt earlier in his study. He was turning into his father, Tywin. And it was bittersweet. He had a strange sense of accomplishment about him as he walked back to his chambers, but he could not help but feel something about it all felt insincere.

The plan he had proposed to Daven obviously had its merits and he was quite sure it would not waver in the wind -but that did not erase the fact that at heart he knew it was for selfish means. He did not want Lorraine to be alone, especially not now with everything happening. If Tyrion's letter was true that meant that war was coming to the West along with the Winter. He would have to leave and it would likely not be short, and he needed to rest easy knowing Lorraine's happiness was undisturbed.

Of course, he would have liked to give himself more credit than that. He knew his departure would effect Lorraine, and he would like to believe that his place in her life was one that was yet unable to be replaced -but he could not stand the idea of her being changed by the war. He could not imagine despair and loneliness overtaking her, and he wished to never know how well she may wear it.

But now that he had done something about it, he could walk to his chambers -back to his wife, with something to offer her. He could give her something, something he knew she would like. He imagined her embracing him warmly as he told her, perhaps she would whisper a thank you, he thought as his mind stretched the sound of her voice to a formulation of words he had imagined she would say to him.

All his thoughts of marital bliss were brought to a shocking halt when he had freshly entered through the chamber door to find an unintelligible object being flung right in his direction. He moved away swiftly to avoid the collision and looked down to examine the object. And to his horror, it was the very bright gold box he had hidden something all too familiar of his away. Looking back in the direction in which the box had been flung from he found exactly what he had feared staring him right back.

A very, very angry wife.

"What in the seven hells-" He exclaimed still watching Lorraine practically shake in rage until she interrupted him by throwing a flimsy piece of parchment across the room.

It landed comically close to her still, but he withheld his laughter as he approached her -albeit with caution. He did not need to see the letter to know what had instilled such fury in her.

"Explain"

"It seems I don't need to." He turned his head up in pride hoping he could find some ground to stand on in the meantime. He would not cower so early on in an argument, not even to Lorraine. Something told him however, that she did not fully appreciate his stance right in that moment.

She moved to him ferociously, picking up the scrapped paper in the process, and proceeded to wave it in his face like it held the marks of condemnation he so deserved. By the way her accusing hand was continuously approaching his face, he was could safely assume she was reiterating her earlier demand.

Gritting his teeth, he uttered,

"Sit down, Lorraine"

Her daring eyes still not leaving in his, oozing defiance, she shot down to the floor right in front of him in a second and crossed her arms over each other, waiting.

His forehead wrinkled as he tried to stare her down, frustrated. Jaime bent down to meet her hoping to soften her, but she did not waver from her demanding posture. Sighing out, he finally gave in -but probably not in the way that Lorraine had hoped.

"You know, I don't recall marrying a child. But if that seems to be the case I will stop hesitating to treat you like one!" He proceeded to grab her upper arms and pull her up to meet him. She, of course, resisted in every way she could -kicking and scratching like a cat in heat. Eventually her efforts were rewarded with her freedom from his grasp, only to be met by the floor once more as she fell to it swiftly. Still splattered across the ground, Lorraine kicked Jaime's shins with ferocity, trying to dent the armor his largeness exuded. He lounged at her with tenacious force and collected both her wrists in his own hand as he sat on her feet, restricting her movement to a bare shuffle.

"I'll release your hands, only if you are reasonable. Is that fair? Hmm?" As her breath calmed to a generally acceptable level, she nodded to his proposition and he untied her.

Of course, he did not expect Lorraine to remain all too peaceful or at all good on her word, and that was why his reflexes were more than astute when she attacked him once more and his hands held her shoulders away from his person -but still effectively sitting on his legs.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked with desperation as they both knew their fight was futile. She knew she wanted answers, and Jaime knew he could not live without giving them to her.

"Listen-stop! Listen." They were silenced, and Jaime knew it would be for good until he spoke the truth.

"I got the letter yesterday." He started, trying to cool his nerves. I have no nerves. I am a nerveless knight.

"I didn't tell you because I couldn't trust the information. I still can't. Tyrion can't be trusted, not after anything. Was I just supposed to wage war and order an evacuation at the whim of my angry brother?"

"But why didn't you TELL me" He noticed her emphasise her words in every way that was known to her, and proceeded to explain to her his reasons -even if they may have been just slightly unreasonable.

"I just didn't want you to worry. I would have told you, eventually."

"No you would not have-"

He conceded,

"Perhaps not the whole truth. I probably wouldn't tell you about the source, mostly because it would not serve you in any way. But I would have told you, you must believe that. I just had to get things in order for you, I can't just drop it on you. I had it planned, and it was all coming together and if you had just waited you would have seen that I had made every arrangement for your comfort-" He desperate plead for reason was interrupted by a slap in the face.

"My comfort?!" She stormed up, too fast for Jaime to stop her.

"Forget my comfort! I am not glass!"

"You would have been alone! I had to do something, I care for you do you not see that? That's the only reason i'm making Roslin stay here with you!" The revelation stunned her -almost physically, back a few steps and her eyes were wide in surprise.

She cocked her head to the side slightly, regarding Jaime in the strangest light. And he could not say he was enjoying it. Right when Jaime thought she had almost reached a catatonic state her face contorted into one he had on occasions feared to find her wearing.

"How dare you?"

And now it was he that was left confused.

"How dare I? What have I done to cause offense?" In response she scurried over to the round table where her notepad lay. He could not help but role his eyes at her, never in his life had he had such a passionate fight so silently.

Just as he thought what she could possibly be relaying to him he felt the weight of the notepad thump against his chest. He knelt down to pick it up and read its contents -but not before giving Lorraine a disappointed look.

"With what right do you separate a woman from her husband on my account? For my comfort?! "

It was now Jaime who was incredulous as he looked back and forth from the paper to his wife, confused as ever.

"I don't understand. You don't want Roslin to stay?" His question was followed by another scribble and another parchment being thrown at him.

"Not if it means separating her from her husband and making a bigger mess of things than they already are."

They both stood there, visibly much calmer than they had been minutes ago, and both of their actions and statements had sunk into the both of them.

Still wrapped in the blanket of silence, they simultaneously looked away and both felt like the time for talking, for fighting, had passed. The sun had fully set, and they were both tired. So, so tired. He noticed her eyes drooping, it made her seem older. It made her look in a way that he had never seen her before, like life had worn her down -when before she was so untouched by the trials and perils of life and war.

They slowly moved about each other, not saying a word or looking in the other's direction. It was like a limbo of wills; both of theirs have been temporarily suspended from duty, and neither one could stand another fracture being made.

He had his dinner in the study that night, she in their rooms. He already knew they would not speak again, so there was no need to endure a meal in complete awkward silence. He sat in his chair doing next to nothing, trying to find something to fill his hands with all the while his stomach only dropped further. The hour was late, far later than he could expect Lorraine to stay up past, when he decided to return to their rooms.

It was pitch black and strangely cold. When he finally found his way to their bedroom he considered sleeping in the other room before deciding he was far too tired to think that option through. He stepped into his bedchamber to find the lump of Lorraine body, as expected, curled up on her side of the mattress, somehow exuding warmth even from her sleep.

It felt like a long journey from where he stood at the threshold to the bed, and it helped that the mattress was soft enough to pull him into slumber without letting him ponder the days happenings to deeply. As sleeps final needles pricked into him he whispered out,

"Forgive me." Not knowing who it was for, or who would listen.

His sleep was dreamless, but short-lived as he was roused away by a gentle hand caressing his arm smoothly. He opened his eyes to the sight of Lorraine sitting upright by his side, her face suddenly young again. But in her eyes still sparkled the shining light of experience, the heavy burden of knowing.

"The first weeks after...what happened...I couldn't sleep well either."

It was heavy, coming out of her, but it was something. She hesitated slightly, her tongue seemed unused to the movement, and her mouth came down too hard on some letters, but he could hear it, he could understand it. He could understand her.

For his part, Jaime, too afraid to even move in case he might scare her away, just sat there slightly upturned on his elbow, staring with harsh incredibility.

"Addam would come to my room and sit on my bed, much like this. He would talk to me. Maybe he hoped I would answer. In the end he would always sing to me...always. And it was the only thing that could put me to sleep. Every night he would come, and scare away the dark parts of me that would cause the dark bags under my eyes -even if it meant he would get dark bags under his eyes." She took a small break to chuckle to herself and look back at Jaime, who dared not even smile. The sheen that was starting to form at his brow was all but reflected in his wife's eyes, glistening greatly like they were holding back a war.

"I never thought you would be selfish, Jaime" His name, there it was again, falling so painfully from her.

He tried to open his mouth, he tried to say something,

"I-I-," but he was met with a soft hush from her.

"Maybe you should listen tonight." It was still dark, the moon's soft glow was only just barely gliding across her face.

"Whatever happiness you think I could find with Roslin here, I can not accept if it comes at the cost of robbing her of the happiness she could find with her family. Don't be selfish, even if it is for the both of us. I learned what love was a long time ago, Jaime. And I love Roslin much like a sister, I do, that is why she must leave with Edmure. My love," He drew his breath in as she reached out to caress his face with two fingers,

"you are my furthest happiness. Yours is mine. But I need you to speak to me. I need you to talk to me." and that finally teased out of him an intelligible sentence.

"I don't like leaving you here alone."

"There are...other things." He looked at her with a shaking need to figure her out,

"What other things?"

And to his very last day, Jaime still did not know whether he had spoken to her that night or if it was all just a dream, but he still remembered the comfort her voice had brought him and the intimacy it animated.

Ah! Tell me what you thought of this! I'll be honest I knew that I wanted that confrontation to happen but when I finally got to it I had no idea what i'd do or how i'd go about portraying it. It really is a challenge sometimes getting my ideas and thoughts across when one of my main characters is a mute (deciding what POV to go with which event is such a detailed process and I have to be absolutely sure of it before writing it all out). In this case, I was torn whether I should have had their confrontation (or at least the start of it) all in Lorraine's POV, but there were other things I wanted to convey in Lorraine's POV and I feel this way it is more harmonious with the ending since I was planning on ending with Jaime anyway.

I promise to work harder because I really want to get this finished and start on my new story! I really want the new story to be out before the new season airs...and hopefully I think it's doable.