A/N: Hey guys, let me start by saying that I feel awful for leaving it this long...but things have been quite frantic around here and i've been struggling to find some times for myself -so I hope you'll forgive me!

I'll be honest I wasn't even really trying to get much work in...up until a few days ago I literally only had one paragraph down. But like always, once I started it was hard to stop and I felt inspired once again. Enjoy!

Edmure

How dare he? He thought to himself as the very bane of his existence stood in front of him in his own prison. Was not even that sacred for him? He had already sent his lackey to deliver his message, loud and clear. What need would he have to gloat? Though he did not quite understand why he had to bring his wife, the new Lady Lannister, along with him. Perhaps it would serve her well to know who she had married, and she could see it clearly now. At least, Edmure thought, at least I can have that.

He did not miss the way the Kingslayer's wife tried to hide how closely she clung to her husband, all that time alone had taught him to be more observant. She was, of course, beautiful in a muted way -he almost giggled at the double meaning. He hadn't expected any less of the Kingslayer. He was a pretty man, and pretty men only married pretty women -especially if they got to choose. She was a strange beauty though, the kind even he would not often leer at, but the kind to command someone's attention every once in a while. But even with all his observations he could not tell what was coming, or why Lady Lannister was trying hard not to show how nervous she really was.

"Something else the matter, Kingslayer?" He made sure to emphasise the word in his wife's presence. Perhaps Jaime Lannister was not hearing that word quite enough as of recent, and Edmure would surely not want the knight to forget.

"What other things have you come to rob from me? I'm not sure I have much left." It still scorned something maleficent inside him to think that the only thing he had would be kept from him, like a child being kept from some sweet cakes.

At that he heard a sigh being breathed out and he knew to brace himself as the Kingslayer's stance did not waver, but Edmure noticed him placing a hand on his wife's hand and turning his head to look at her in what seemed like reassurance. His silent wife nodded to him tentatively and motioned -with that same head, for him to go on. When he returned his gaze to Edmure he felt a strange surge of uncertainty rise in him, and he felt like he was now unsure of where he stood.

With a loud intake of breath, the Kingslayer began -albeit, hesitantly.

"We-...I-..." He shut his mouth again to consider his words, and Edmure was close to asking him to rid him of the misery of watching him struggle to find words before he opened his mouth again.

"Yesterday. When I made the decision about your place in the Capital, i'm afraid I was not thinking with complete clarity. We-...I now realize that I was near-sighted in regard to the matter and..." He slowly gulped down as Edmure eyed him with even greater suspicion, only removing his gaze from him to look at his wife who was looking up at her husband with great caution.

With Lannister's pause he moved to look back at his wife. And once again, without disappointments, she offered him a reaffirming smile and what Edmure noticed to be a gentle squeeze to his upper arm.

"I fear I must apologize." That was something Edmure hadn't even thought he'd hear.

He leaned back on the table against his back, trying hard to hide the smugness the Kingslayer's apology now afforded him with, and he let a small smile crack through his usually stony face.

"Go on.." he said with his smirk still apparent. After everything, he enjoyed seeing some of that Lion's pride swallowed down before him.

"It would serve no one to keep your family apart-" Was what he heard come out of Jaime Lannister before his wife nudged him with his shoulder without looking away from Edmure with a sympathetic smile. He resisted the urge to chuckle. Loudly. Nevertheless, Edmure would wait until they were finished -which they obviously still were not, before making any comments.

"I meant," Jaime corrected himself, "I was mistaken."

By the Gods, he thought to himself, the mighty Lion truly has been tamed. Although, he would add, not completely judging by the way the Kingslayer's nostrils flared and his grip tightened upon his golden hand -it was obvious he was executing a tremendous amount of control not to lift Edmure off his feet and throw him into the see. And yet his wife seemed calm, even a little proud, and Edmure wondered how exactly such a quiet little thing had such control over one of the most feared men in Westeros.

"Your family will be joining in you in King's Landing, as previously arranged-"

"I can't say I have any complaints about that reversed decision. Is that all?" He announced nonchalantly, looking around the room trying to decide just how relieved he was. After all, a prisoner allowed to keep his family with him was still a prisoner.

His roaming eyes prevented him from noticing the shift in both his hosts' dispositions. Regardless of what he would have liked to think, they were not exactly gloating when they walked in. But now their postures had changed and their grips on one another loosened slightly. Lady Lorraine, who's grace had almost given him the impression of an upturned nose, now stood just slightly paler than she was and looked down at the ground solemnly like she was waiting for an execution.

Slowly removing his wife's arm from his own, Jaime Lannister started once more.

"There is one last thing, Tully."

"Oh?"

"Your child, your son, won't be a ward to the King."

Edmure was about to comment that that was excellent when he was met with the realization that if Brynden was not to be a ward to the King he'd be someone else's ward.

Just then he fumed, in the quietest way he could. His face crumpled up in rage and the people in front of him were standing in a blurred vignette.

"What have you done?" Was all that could leave him. He was surprised not to receive an answer. At that, he lifted his head and yelled,

"Speak! Pray, do tell me to whom you've auctioned off my child! My son!"

"No one!" He heard Jaime interrupt firmly before he added,

"When your son is five years of age he will be sent here, to Casterly Rock."

Suddenly Edmure felt sick. It was twisted in so many ways, there were so many ironies entwined with one another that he could no longer tell what was funny and what was some cruel punishment. He thought of Catelyn again, he had been thinking of her much over the past days. He remembered how his sister doted on him, how she fiercely protected him at every turn no matter what he had done. And though it had pained him to admit it, he still waited for her to burst in somehow and take him in his arms and hide him from all the cruel things happening to him. Maybe Catelyn would have done a better job protecting Brynden than I ever could. I tried, I did everything I could. He thought, recalling the day he had given up everything he had left just to ensure his family's safety. What was it all for?

"Was it not enough for you to take my home, Kingslayer? You had to take my son as well? What are you planning? Tell me! What will you do to my boy?"

Almost instinctively Jaime moved a step in front of his wife, guarding her slightly with arm -standing cool and unchanged in front of his prisoner.

"This is not about taking anything from you, Tully! Your son had to be a ward of someone's, that was inevitable, it had to be done. But this is the best choice for him. My wife will take care of him like a nephew, as you already know she 'll be able to write to him, and should either I or my wife find reason to be in King's Landing he will accompany us to see you. He will be returned to you once you return to Riverrun, you have my word on that."

Edmure stood shorter than the Lannister knight, but his anger had given him enough growth to openly snarl at his opponent like he was going to devour him whole.

Was this the plan the entire time? Is that what was going on when Roslin went back to their chambers to rave about how sweet Lady Lorraine is?

"We all know how good you are for your word, Knigslayer." He spat, and he wished then that his words would enough poison in them to stir the little mute to the truth of Jaime Lannister. He almost chuckled when he remembered that perhaps she already did know.

Of course, he thought, he got to choose. All you Lannisters get to choose.

.

Lorraine

It had been a hard morning. And though I knew Jaime did not take any particular joy from stepping on Edmure Tully any further, it was far less than pleasant for me. But we had done what was best, for everyone. Jaime's original change of plan was flawed -yes, but regardless of his initial intentions there was a fact I neither I nor him could deny any longer, something had to change to consolidate the agreement -or alliance, or whatever this thing may be. The Crown needed to be sure that while Edmure could be comfortable, he couldn't get presumptuous. And the sad fact of the matter when it came to great families is that the best way to ensure a house's survival is to offer up a child, an heir, as collateral. Even if one was to be objective there were still little viable options. The North was still far too unstable -even in the foreseeable future and the Crown could not count on there not being any secret rebellions or conspiracies -especially considering the previous closeness of houses Stark and Tully. The East was currently greatly influenced by Petyr Baelish, and Jaime had mentioned that his connection with Tully's might seem a little suspicious. Besides, he had said, The Vale is not known for breeding strong men, to which I had replied that Ned Stark and Robert Boratheon had been wards of the Vale only to be received with an ambiguous shake of the head. But it did strike me that perhaps Jaime cared for little Brynden even the tiniest bit if he felt some sort of interest in him growing strong. Which I thought was quite endearing and -...wait, where was I going with this? Ah, yes, The Stormlands a good option perhaps, but too close to the Crownlands and too riddled with shifting loyalties. The same could be said for Dorne. The only real options left were the West and the Reach. But really, in all truth, who better to keep the King's best interests at heart than his own uncle? But it was more than just that, I couldn't let Roslin's child be sent of like that. There was logic, which was fine, but there was also loyalty -and I could not let that waver. The least Jaime and I could was to take it upon ourselves to raise little Brynden here, where he knew he could be safe. Roslin would know that...wouldn't she? It had been a hard morning.

I decided to myself as I walked the strangely sunny outlying path by the beach that Roslin would be happy. Not happy, of course, but she would see reason. Who better to take care of Brynden than someone who thinks of his mother like a sister?

And besides, who wouldn't think Brynden would be safe with me? Whoever that may be would certainly change his mind once they saw how vigilantly Ser Benedict Broom followed me around. Or might he prefer the term, "shadowed"? Either way, it was unnecessary as of yet. But it had occurred wordlessly, like nothing before it had counted. It was as if the entire argument was washed away somewhere in the sea and I was faced with the brutal truth of it this morning when I left my chambers only to be faced directly with my new sworn sword.

I had never had a human shield before, a protector. I always thought that was Father, or Addam, I thought Jaime would try to fill those shoes before he realised I was done being protected. But even when, as a child, I played princesses and dragons and kings and knights I always imagined my sworn shield the same; a chiseled jaw, icy eyes and the thickest head of hair.

But Ser Benedict, like myself I suppose, is not at all what people might expect. He's very...stony, reminding me of stories i've heard of a certain Stormlord rebel. The way he held himself also reminded me of what I remember of Tywin Lannister. His posture, his shoulders, the way he breathed and spoke -even his feet! They were all so very tightly wound. Except for his eyes though. They were...not exactly soft, but they held a certain kindness to them I could not yet trust or explain.

Either way, we do not seem like a very dynamic pair. With my muteness and his off-warding attitude there doesn't seem to be much in the way of common interests or mutual participation and eagerness.

I splayed my hand out onto a bush on my right hand side and I could feel Ser Benedict move to react before realising it was just a harmless gesture. My fingers slithered through the weeding veins of the bush and tempestuously avoided the thorns like an obstacle course. Was that all I was doing now? Avoiding thorns?

The past few days have been exhausting, mentally and emotionally. It felt like every day there was word of something new threatening to happen to us. And it had all happened so fast. This wasn't the place I had thought I would be in, it didn't feel like what had been described to me. No one told me that there might be a threat. No one told me my sister might be unsafe. No one told me that my husband might wage off to fight a host of pirates and possibly never return. No one told me, so was it fair that I had to walk around here pretending like all my pieces were held together when, in truth, I didn't know what pieces of me existed and what died away long ago. I don't know what i'm made of or whether I even have the will to see all of this through. Would I have been happier back at home living in the bliss of denial I had long since chosen to subscribe to? Where things could just happen around me once more instead of to me.

My thoughts were interrupted as I heard a scurry of fast paced footsteps, ones whose lightness I had grown fondly familiar with. I smiled to myself as I spun around to meet the incoming bundle but was surprised with what was stalking towards me. It was Roslin but, it did not look like her. I recognized her figure, her hair, her big eyes but something was most definitely amiss. Her shoulders were heavy and her face was marked with a decidedly ugly downturn of her brow as well as a creasing frown. It was something far more sinister than I had hoped to see that day.

"You!" She accused me with pure venom in her voice. She had almost reached me but was stopped by Ser Benedict's hand.

What was he doing? This is ridiculous. This is Roslin, this is my friend Roslin.

I opened my mouth slightly in question, confused as to what was happening.

"You wicked, wicked cruel woman!" My mouth was now fully agape and tears stung Roslin's once pretty wide eyes.

"I should have believed Edmure when he told me! You vile creature! What have I ever done to you? What harm had I ever caused?"

What was she talking about? What is she saying?

"Tell me, tell me! What difference did it make? Claiming to be my friend? What were you trying to accomplish if this is what you meant to do all along! Take my son away from me, take Edmure's heir!"

I was stunned at her words and I immediately felt the sting of her words. Was I a horrible woman? She doesn't understand...she must understand! I moved to motion,

"I would never-"

"Stop lying! Stop trying to steal my child!" She screamed in near hysterics barely held back from me by Ser Benedict whose irritation I could se growing. I, on the other hand, stood still with my arms wrapped around myself as some sort of guard.

"You don't understand I will protect Brynden-" I tried to explain but I was interrupted once more,

"You are a sad, sad woman and I would pity you if I did not hate you with all my heart. You know I might be a prisoner and you might have your castle, may the Gods damn it, but you're still jealous of me. Pathetic little childless mute...even your cat can get pregnant but you can't! You and the Kingslayer deserve one another."

"Enough!" I heard come from Ser Benedict and in one swift motion Roslin was being rushed away from me as I stood watching.

The weight of her words crushed at my chest and began to slowly suffocate me as they simultaneously stung at the ruins I had left of her friendship. My breaths were shallow as I thought, is this what it's like to make choices for other people?

But even with the poison flung at me I could not bring myself to regret the decision Jaime and I had made. It would have been made by someone else sooner or later, and I knew in my heart it was the best thing for Brynden and the Tully's, and perhaps the whole Kingdom. But what I did not know was that in protecting the one I loved and care for, she would hate me with all her might for it. Her words shook through me one more time, and I closed my eyes leaning onto the bush for balance, the thorns finally pricking my fingers. And I let them. I let them.

Jaime

Dinner that evening had been far too quiet and silenced than he had wished it would be. Of course, Jaime understood how jarring the morning's happening may have been on Lorraine but he had not quite anticipated her to be so taken aback by the ordeal. She sat solemnly across from with barely a glance to spare, instead choosing to encase herself in her own arms and it left the ornate seat looking...hollow, if Jaime could say.

But he couldn't. At least, not just yet. He was a fool for thinking somehow all would be well once they had put up a united front -that she could look at him without seeing mistrust. That was how it had always worked with the people he cared for, they would fight and then, as always, the world would be against them and they'd have to stand together, and then everything would be alright again. As long as we win, he could remember Cersei saying, as long as we always win.

When they had walked earlier she seemed fine enough, though he could not miss the hesitant coldness in the way he held her, but by the afternoon she was barely there with him and the distance in her eyes seemed more than endless. Even when he had introduced her to Whitesmile Wat, a minstrel, a musician, a man who made sounds that seemed to intimate emotion and engagement, Lorraine still seemed far removed. With every smile she gave came the swallow of something that was irking her, and by the way that she was lankily playing with her food all throughout their dinner together he could not help but feel it was him that was bothering her.

They had fought, of course, like children the night before. And now they were acting like too adults both too stubborn to be wrong. But he was wrong -that he had to admit, at least in part. But she had come to him in the morning, so ready to stand by his side and hold him to her. She was telling him that they were in it together, that she would not abandon him. But was it all in title? Had he unknowingly pushed away the only person he could now envision his happiness with? He could not just accept that everything they had built together, with one another, could just disappear.

At that, for some strange reason, he suddenly remembered his young cousin Tyrek. What he remembered of him was what a growing young boy he was, and how his hair shined golden even bright than Joffrey's had. Suddenly taken, gone, from King's Landing -assumed dead by everyone. It was so strange for such luck to seem to constantly claim this particular line of Lannister -none of us have seemed to have it too easy. Not him -in spite of what people might say, not Tyrek, not his uncle Tygett, not his uncle Gerion nor his uncle Kevan for that matter. Not his scheming father, his wretched sister or his renegade brother. Is that the kind of life I had shoved Lorraine into? He thought to himself as they walked back in silence, the awkward eeriness of their dinner still lingering behind them.

It hit him like a wave, remorse.

What am I doing? He thought. For once, he thought.

I had plucked a girl right from her home, where she had been content all her life and where she would have probably remained content, just to bring her here and subject her to life with an crippled old fool who could not even find it in himself to apologise when she needed it the most.

He could not help but think of her somewhere else, happy. Maybe even with someone else. She had nothing but try her best to make this place her home, and yet without knowing he still treated her like a guest, like a stranger. She had given, all she had done was give since the moment she arrived at Casterly Rock. She had shared and laughed and twirled and forgiven and what had he done besides close himself shut like a clam every time she tried to get close? The realisation made him feel like he was back at Ashemark, trying to speak to a girl who could not be spoken to.

They were in their rooms now, bustling about in empty shells trying to keep busy, trying not to look at one another. Lorraine picked up Amber and strode into their bedchamber, and Jaime waited with hesitation before slowly following her in.

"Lorraine" It left him plainly, and it stopped her in her tracks.

She turned around, eyes tired and holding Amber to her, she had given far too much.

Jaime stood awkwardly across from her, the air hardening the wall between them. The wall that could only be crushed by the decision he was about to make.

"He didn't do it. He told me he didn't do it. And I believe him." Finally showing a sign of life, Lorraine quirked her head at him confusedly.

"Tyrion." He explained faintly, and understanding suddenly flood into his wife.

Her eyes were still tired, but softer now -like they had been touched by something. He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, trying not to look at her as he spoke.

"It made me feel good, when I was younger, that I had someone to protect. But Tyrion was always clever, far too clever to keep him out of trouble. He'd call out Cersei's lies and contradictions, he'd question my father's every decision. But he never lied to me. Not once until the last time I saw him." Lorraine moved slowly to the edge of the bed, sitting by his side but still not touching him, afraid to push him too far or remind him that she was there.

"Before he left...before I helped him escape, I told him about something my father had done -something I had done to his first wife," He gulped down before continuing on to tell her the tale of how his father had ordered Tyrion's wife to be taken away and raped as Jaime convinced Tyrion it was all just a reuse for him to lay with a woman.

"When I told him, he said that he had killed Joff," He was finally looking at Lorraine now, a shaking fear in his eyes,

"He said he killed him. He was lying, I know he was. And then he killed my father and...and.." He looked into his wife, her eyes reminding of the first time they had met -beckoning him over.

"I still trust him. I still believe him. And it's what I fear the most, that my love for him will get us all killed. And I...I can't live with that. For anything to happen to you because of me...I could never have that. Never." He looked down at his forehand once more trying to regulate his breathing, afraid his passion would now only upset Lorraine. But he was surprised to find dainty little fingers creep their way atop his lap and rest lightly and comfortably in his own hand. In a flood of heat he almost missed her other arm come across his shoulder as she rested her head against his chest.

"Roslin hates me" She whispered with her voice shaky, and it seemed to mold them tighter together as they both rocked in silence.

They closed their eyes together, and eventually laid back on the bed like that in the same pose they had held upright. And once again, Jaime could be content simply with the sound of his wife's steady breath and warm heart.

So? What did you think? Please, please review since it really has been so long since i've written and I want to know what you guys think -it's pretty much the only thing keeping me going right now.

Thank you for reading!