Merilyn smiled indulgently down at Rickon who was whooping loudly as he ran at the sea foam again. The boy had regained most of his colouring and seemed more like the healthy young brother she remembered than he had his entire visit. She attributed it to the sea air and the freedom Rickon was granted. He was even learning how to swim, something the Starks had never seen as an important skill.

Arya hollered right along with her youngest brother as another wave broke against the sandy shore, splashing against their already soaked forms. She enjoyed their visit the most, Merilyn had guessed. Arya had tossed away all her manners, much to Sansa's anger, and was intent upon taking as much advantage as she possibly could now that her mother was not around to scold her. It had incited some loud arguing between the youngest Stark girls, that Merilyn had let continue longer than needed because she actually missed hearing their screaming. After the last fight had ended with Arya yanking a good handful of Sansa's hair out though, Merilyn watched them far more closely and endeavored to keep them distracted.

It was this very idea that had prompted their impromptu trip down to the beach. Septa Aliane had been the one to first suggest it, after finding Rickon and Arya covered in flour in the bottom of a barrel that had once contained a good amount of honeycakes. Her extreme disapproval of the children running wild had not been hidden in the slightest as she informed the Lady Lannister that she should find other ways to occupy the little monsters.

Merilyn had very little exposure to the beach, but it was fast becoming her favourite place. Her siblings, even haughty Sansa, loved the feel of the sand on bare feet and the water in their hair. Their faithful direwolves, with the exception of Nymeria, had greater reservations about the ocean though. Oftentimes, they sat higher up near the caves and contentedly watched their humans frolic in the salt-laden water. Nymeria, always being the exception, played just as enthusiastically as her owner, leaping in and out the water with what Arya often described as "wolf glee."

The wind took on a colder bite as Merilyn laughed when Rickon jumped on, and subsequently succeeded in dunking, Arya. The smell of salt and cool water in the wind wound around her and teased her hair out in little tresses. She breathed deeply, letting her shoulders drop, relaxing into the wind's caresses.

Sometimes, it was so easy for her to look out at the never ending ocean and ache to her very bones with longing for the North – the deep green growth and the sweet smell of snowfall. The homesickness hid well, far beneath her other emotions. It hid so well that sometimes, she would completely forget it existed. Then in her calmest moments, it would surge forward with such strength that it would bring her to bitter tears. Other times though, the ache would stay hidden and she would revel in the unpredictability of the Westerlands. The ocean was the most fickle mistress Merilyn had ever watch rule. Moments of peace never lasted long and the waves predicted rain often. The humidity and the heat were entwined so greatly that even the storms that rocked the cliff sides had heady warmth to them.

She reached up to her neck, sweeping the remaining hair aside, letting the cool air reach her sweating skin. Glancing back up to the castle, she wondered if Jaime had returned yet. It had only been a few short days, but Lannisport was less than a day's ride away and he'd promised his journey would be short. Tywin currently resided at Golden Tooth and had sent word to Jaime that the Ironborn had been stirring and to go to Lannisport in a preemptive move. And, of course, Merilyn rolled her eyes mentally, Jaime had acquiesced immediately. She snorted to herself. The Ironborn weren't fools. If they wished launch any attack on the Westerlands, they would wait until more than a good portion of the Lannister's forces were further North, dealing with the Wildlings. She knew Jaime, and Tywin as well, were both aware of that fact. She wondered, absently, if there was another reason why Tywin had requested his presence, one Jaime chose not to impart to her.

"Mer!" Rickon gurgled, trying to push his only brunette sister's grip off of him, "Merilyn! HELP! She's – she's trying to drown me, Mer!"

Merilyn turned her attention back to the shallow water, and smiled, "Rickon, if your head isn't currently under the water, you cannot drown."

Rickon sputtered as Arya reached for his head and dodged her grip easily enough, "Doesn't mean she can't try!"

Arya laughed triumphantly as she managed to clamp onto his shoulders and force him under the water for a few moments. His hands balled into fists and pummeled whatever part of Arya they could blindly reach. She kept laughing, but let him up when she caught Merilyn's look.

Rickon shook his head back and forth like he had seen Shaggy Dog do after a particularly hard rainfall and glared at Arya's smiling face, "You're lucky you're a girl, Arya! Or else I would beat you up!"

Arya's smile disappeared and she lunged for Rickon again, "Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't drown you. I can best you at anything, especially since you're still a baby!"

His face turned red and screwed up in anger, "I AM NOT A BABY!"

He swung out against her and caught her chin with his fist, surprising her enough that she stepped back and let out a yell. Growling now, she leapt on her brother and pushed him under the water.

Merilyn ran into the water and reached for both of them, pulling them apart, "Enough! Arya, quit," she called to her sister's outreached hands as they scrabbled to grab ahold of her brother still.

Rickon stuck his tongue out and Merilyn shook him without any real venom. She hauled them both out of the ocean and dropped them onto the sand, while she rung out her hair and dress. She sighed and looked down at her siblings who were glaring daggers at the other.

"Let's head back in. Mayhaps the cook has dinner ready for us." She trudged back up the Cliffside, thinking it felt almost impossible that Catelyn had survived all her six children's bickering.

It had been two weeks since she'd heard from Jaime now.

Arya seemed to make it her life's mission to shock Septa Aliane into an early grave. Even sweet and even-tempered Leila had threatened to tan the hide off of her after catching her using one of Merilyn's court dresses as a knight's cloak. The youngest Stark child had taken to running off in the caves of Casterly Rock, no matter how often Merilyn was furious with her. Arya had become impossible to control.

Rickon, on the other hand, refused to part from Merilyn. He clung to her skirts with a fierce tenacity and cried if she left him. His nightmares had taken such a severe turn that he feared sleep, unless Merilyn lay with him. She wasn't sure what he dreamed of for he would only shake his head and press his lips together whenever she tried to ask. She could only comfort him like their mother would have if she had been there.

But it was her flighty, head-in-cloud sister, Sansa, who was causing the biggest problem. Sansa had taken to frequenting the yard whenever Willas was practicing. She would linger afterwards, offering water to the guard Merilyn had come to trust, and smiling sweetly in hopes of keeping him in the outdoors longer. She would sit as close to him as possible on the nights he came to the hall to tell them stories and had even stolen a dress or two from Merilyn that cut low on her. Merilyn had already talked to her about propriety, about Stark dignity, about duty, but her lectures had fallen on deaf ears. Sansa was determined that she was in love and Willas was her knight.

Merilyn sat in Casterly Rock's day room, letting the sunshine fall on her face, as her hair streamed across the lounge couch. She was exhausted. Rickon hardly slept. She never knew where Arya was and Sansa was like a dog in heat. She groaned and rubbed her eyes wearily. There had been an accident at one of the gold mines in the early dawn before the sun rose. Willas had Leila rouse her from bed and told her that it was imperative that someone from the Lannister family be seen by the injured, their families. She'd been there for over ten hours, trying to placate the angry and the terrified. She had held the hands of those whose husbands had died, hugged the orphaned children, and comforted the maimed. She'd tried not to cry at the sight of those who had died in the landslide, the smaller bodies of young boys lined up along the twisted bodies of elders, cripples.

She blinked back tears as she looked around the dayroom and took a deep breath. Leila had told her that Lady Joanna, Tywin's wife and Jaime's mother, had it added on to the old castle because it added sunshine and cheer into the drafty home. It was sparsely decorated, but with all glass walls. She could see all around her, the view perfectly capturing the rocky cliffs and green sea. She sighed and pressed her palms into her eyes, willing away the throbbing in her skull.

A shriek filled the room and Merilyn sat up, startled. In walked, her golden husband with her youngest sister thrown over his shoulder. He grunted and tossed her at Merilyn's feet on the floor. Arya shrieked again and tried rising from the floor, but was waylaid by Jaime's foot on her back.

"Do you know exactly where this… child was?" His tone was light, but she heard the anger beneath it. She cringed internally.

He continued, "No? Let me inform you. Your youngest sister was cave by the eastern shore without supervision."

"I don't need supervision!" Arya whined, thrashing beneath his foot.

He pretended as if he hadn't heard her, "Do you know the problem with her being in the caves unsupervised at this time of day?"

Merilyn shook her head mutely, uncertain at where this was going and if she should be upset that he currently had her sister pinned on the ground.

"The problem with her wandering is that she is Northern born."

Arya thrashed again, "Are you saying being Northern is a crime? You bloody Southern-."

Merilyn stood, "Arya, enough! Jaime, let her up."

Jaime nodded mockingly and removed his foot from her, and Arya leapt up, brushing her tunic and glaring up at him.

"Get to your point," Merilyn gestured impatiently to Jaime.

He rolled his eyes, "You've never lived near the sea. You do not understand the dangers. You do not know about the tide."

It was Merilyn's turn to roll her eyes, "Of course, she knows about the tide. Willas warned them all when they first…" she trailed off, "Arya, Willas did tell you about the tide?"

Arya stuck her chin out defiantly, "Yes."

Jaime only snorted and Merilyn brought her hands to her face. She knew her sister was lying.

"What, did you just not listen to him when he was telling you this? Arya? Arya, look at me."

Arya's head shot up, "You are NOT Mother! You cannot tell me what to do!"

With that, Arya turned and ran. And Merilyn promptly burst into tears.