Chapter 38
Leila moved her hands from her ears and stared at the wall in frustration. The broth that she had retrieved from the kitchen had been slung across the wall. She had never - in all her life - met someone so ungrateful, so disrespectful. She whirled around and turned to the young Northern Lord, ready to let him have it. "How dare you," she screeched, narrowing her eyes at him.
"I won't be fed like a child!"
"How do you expect to eat then? You can't necessarily feed yourself."
"I'm going to goddamn do my best to," he shot back.
"You cannot even move your arm, my Lord! Do you really think..."
"I can move it just fine," he argued, moving to sit up.
"Oh no, you don't," Leila hurried towards the bed and sat on his chest.
Harrion grunted, wincing slightly - but Leila remained undeterred in the least. She adjusted her body until she was close to his face, pressing him into the bed. "You are not in charge of me," he huffed, like any man would.
From the moment that he had awaken, Harrion Karstark argued with her. He didn't like being confined to a bed, he didn't like laying there as his men and the other Lords discussed ransoming one of the Stark Princesses, he didn't enjoy her coddling him as though he were a babe. After the first day, she had called for the Wolf King - demanded that he send someone else to care for the Lord. But he insisted it was her - he had some ulterior motive - that much she knew. She was a lion. She could smell a scheme.
Oh, and Lord Karstark, she thought with an unladylike snort, she was slowly losing her patience with him. She came close to suffocated him with a cushion as he slept. Leila would have ensured that he finished his life course in a comfortable manner - well fed and resting in bed. Most Lords desired a peaceful death, didn't they? Fortunately for him, she never followed through on her plot. No, she continued to feed him, tend to him - and deliver messages for him as though she were a serving maid. The gall of this northern brute.
When he had tried to buck her off, Leila quickly reached over for the other bowl - her bowl - and poured half of the contents into this mouth as he begun to complain. Why were all men so stubborn? He swallowed some before breaking out into a hysterical coughing fit. Leila simply rolled her eyes and grabbed the nearby cloth to wipe the drool and mess around him.
"Why are you behaving so unruly, my Lord?"
"Because my Lady," he grunted under her, "you're being rather rude."
"I'm being rude," she questioned him with a salty expression. "Your King demanded that I get you well, help you recover. I cannot do my part with you conducting yourself in such a childish manner," she emphasized by jabbing her finger at his chest. "Now, open your mouth!"
Leila began to pour the rest of the contents in the bowl. He gulped and swallowed them eagerly, eyeing her heavily. She could give just as good. So, her eyes narrowed at him as she sat on his chest. He didn't say anything as she continued to feed him. And when it was all gone, she slowly climbed off and began to change the sheets around so that he wasn't resting in a soiled bed.
When her hand went to grab the bowl, he had flown across the room, she heard him call. "What is your name, my Lady?"
Leila gulped and turned to face him. "Leila, my Lord. I'm merely a kitchen maid."
He didn't believe her - that much was certain. But he closed his eyes and laid back on the bed. "Thank you, Leila," he responded. She didn't know how to respond, so she simply retreated from the room.
Ser Barristan smiled as the Queen Rhaenys smothered her little Prince with kisses. "She looks so much like her mother," he said as the other guards with him stopped in their task. A few of them snorted and returned to their work. He knew that he wasn't a welcomed sight - especially since he had served King Robert Baratheon. Or perhaps their distaste had come because he served King Aerys Targaryen.
"They don't trust you," one of the northern guards came to stand next to him. She had heard the Queen call him 'Smalljon'. This 'Smalljon' turned to him. "I don't know if I trust you, either."
"I can understand why you wouldn't," Ser Barristan nodded and looked back at the young Queen.
"However, I trust you more than that one there," he gestured with his head towards Ser Jamie Lannister - who was currently being tended to by his 'niece' Princess Myrcella and her cousin Rosamund Lannister - three golden haired lions.
"He is of little concern now that he is crippled," Ser Barristan replied as Smalljon chuckled.
"I never thought the Queen would do such a thing."
"Never?"
Smalljon studied the knight next to him before glancing out towards the Kingslayer. "She saved my mother. I'm not sure if you've heard of the story." The old knight shook his head, interested in what had become of the Queen after she had left the South. "After I and Osric, my mother lost their third child - another son. When she was with child again, they were delighted and scared. Lord Eddard Stark sent the young Nysa to our castle. She helped deliver a healthy baby girl. But my mother remained ill for nearly three of Arra's name-days. There was talk that my father was - or should have - cast my mother aside to find a healthier wife, to continue giving him sons. And so, Nysa was sent for again. Wildlings had attacked one of the nearby villages. It was the first time I had gone out with my father and the other Lords to help. When we returned, my mother stood at the gates, smiling at my father."
Smalljon turned to face Ser Barristan.
"My father had never leapt off his horse so quickly before," the knight watched as the young man's smile widened. "She bore my father two more sons - both healthy and strong. House Umber will forever be grateful to House Stark and," he paused and glanced out at the young Queen, "and now to House Targaryen. It is obvious that she got her skill to heal from her father's House."
Ser Barristan didn't need the young man to elaborate more - he knew that it was hard for a lot of the northerners to accept the Queen as being from House Targaryen. They had readily accepted her as a bastard - the daughter of a fallen northern knight. But no one had expected that she would be of noble blood, the same noble blood that they had lifted their swords against and set out to destroy.
"She has an abundance of compassion. That," Smalljon paused, "that is something I believe she learned from the North. It wasn't anything inherited from her House."
"I find we might disagree on that matter, Northmen," he replied. "Both of her parents were compassionate people."
He scoffed.
"The King has left you in charge of her safety, hasn't he," Ser Barristan asked him.
Smalljon gave him a nod.
"Good," Ser Barristan nodded. "She'll need trusted friends in the coming days." They both watched as Lady Catelyn and a few other Ladies came by the Queen - marveling over the babe.
"Something is happening," Smalljon questioned, wondering where the old knight's thoughts were being directed to.
"I can sense it," was the knight's response. "The air around us is too quiet." Smalljon looked around him as both men quieted. He could feel it too, the sense of calm and ease. The war was far from over.
"And where do your loyalties lie," he asked suddenly causing the old knight to look at him. "You questioned me, I felt it right that I too question you. Your arrival with the Dornishmen is out of place, if I must say so myself. Why were you heading there, to them?"
"Though it is not your place to know my affairs," the old knight considered him. "We have a common goal and that is to protect the Queen. If you must know, I was attempting to find her brother."
"Ah, yes," he nodded. "Jon."
"Prince Rhaegar had agreed to take him in. It had been done before - Kings had more than one wife."
"It would never be acknowledged," Smalljon reminded him.
"Queen Rhaenys will make it so," he nodded to her.
"She'll suffer some sort of repercussion from the people."
"And that is why she'll need trusted friends," Ser Barristan added. "There is more to winning this war, than winning battles. Lady Catelyn has explained some of that to Queen Rhaenys. She also needs to win the favor of the people. The people remember a good King and Queen. Songs and battles and prayers are dedicated to them."
"And so, you set out to find Jon?"
Ser Barristan took a deep breath. "I feel indebted to him. I feel indebted to her," he nodded to the Queen. "I've failed their father. According to the Lannisters, I failed King Robert - though I'm sure that is something that they probably wanted. Unlike the other knights, I take my oath as Kingsguard seriously. I do not want to fail another. In fact, I'm hoping to make amends for my actions and protect the children of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen."
"You were at war," Smalljon stated. "Men die during war," he spared the old knight a glance, trying to convey his sympathy.
The old knight chuckled. "Aye, they do. But I'm praying that this time, they don't." He turned to fully face the young Northmen. "The sword that the Queen carries?"
"Maiden's Mercy," Smalljon answered.
"I remember one of my previous sworn brothers - Prince Lewyn Martell," he named. "He told Prince Rhaegar that their family had found one of the ancestral swords belonging to House Targaryen. And they had hoped to give it to the young Prince Aegon when the time was right."
Smalljon's eyes widened before looking at Nysa - the Valyrian steel sword kept on her side. Memories and tales flooded his mind before he shook his head with laughter. "It's a shame that such a sword is wasted on little talent," he smiled broadly. The older knight glared at him. He put up his arms in surrender, continuing to smile. "She is a good archer - possibly one of the best. Her Uncle - forgive me - one of the northern knights, Ser Rodrik, taught her just as well as the other young lads at Winterfell. And if I remember correctly, she was also taught by House Mormont and House Karstark. But you will find that the sword is not - and probably never was - her strong suit. Get a bow in her hands and she'll hit every mark," he nodded.
Majority of the Targaryen Princesses were great archers, Ser Barristan had to admit. However, he wanted to point out to this young Northmen that the sword wasn't something that her father had preferred either. He had loved the people - the common people. And it was obvious that Queen Rhaenys had shared that trait with her father.
"She can't be that horrid with the sword," a voice chuckled behind them. Ser Barristan noticed an irritated expression flicker upon the Northmen before they both turned to greet Prince Oberyn. "After all, the Queen did kill the Mountain."
"Aye," Smalljon agreed, "after shooting him with a dozen arrows. But the final death came at the hands of a dagger - not a sword."
"Years from now when they tell the tale and sing the song," Prince Oberyn looked at him with a mischievous smile, "do you think they'll sing of the Queen in flower gardens or the Queen who breathes fire. Death is death," he commented, "and that is what is remembered."
Ser Barristan turned to him fully. "We were just discussing the Queen's talent for healing, archery and," he paused, "compassion."
Prince Oberyn went to reply but was halted when one some of the men began shouting and cheering. Smalljon and Ser Barristan withdrew their swords. Lady Catelyn had picked up Nysa, bring her and the babe into her arms, looking around in alarm. Ser Donnel Locke appeared then on a horse, holding onto a Stark banner.
He leaped off before kneeling before the Queen. Looking up with a smile, he announced the news, "Casterly Rock has been taken, my Queen. The King lives and is discussions with the Iron Throne for the release of Princess Sansa."
Lady Catelyn and the young Queen wrapped one another in a warm embrace, joyfully sobbing as the men around them cheered.
Dacey entered the room, stepping to the side, allowing the three men to enter. She knew that one of them was from House Blackwood. He bowed to her before bowing to the King.
Robb gestured for them to step closer. "And what have we here," he asked, taking the letter from the outstretched hand.
"A letter from your mother, my King," the guard replied.
Robb tore through the seal, quickly unfurling the parchment. Only two sentences were written, but there were enough.
The Queen and babe are well. A Prince has been born.
The Wolf King jumped from his seat and turned to Greatjon Umber, "I have a son!"
The Greatjon stood and clasped his hand on the young King's shoulder, "Well done, my King." He turned to face the other Lords and men in the room with him. "To the King, to the Queen, and to the new Prince," Greatjon bellowed as the rest of them shouted.
Robb smiled and felt his heart pounding faster than he thought it ever would. The men cheered for him, but he knew that Nysa had done the arduous work. She had carried their son in her for moons. She had been the one to bring him into this world. His eyes fell on that first sentence as cheers were filled in the halls of Casterly Rock at the news of a Prince being born. Nysa was well. They both were well.
Outside he heard the howls of Grey Wind. He could discern that the wolf was rejoicing, he could tell. Robb smiled and chuckled at the sound before receiving more congratulations and praise.
He could not wait to see his son, hold him in his arms, watch him walk and smile and laugh. He was in an even greater hurry to return to the North, teach his son everything that his father had taught him. Robb wondered what he looked like, what House the child would favor. And slowly he found that he did not care. He loved the child already, loved it though he did not see it. He stared at the letter once more, reading it and drawing strength from its words.
Nysa and his child were waiting for him. Gods be good, he had a son. And his wife was safe.
Robb nodded to the men and Lords who continued to pat him on the back. But as he looked out over the land around him - there was only one other man he wished was here. And that was his own father.
I remember the first time I held you in my arms, that was the first time I felt like a man.
Childhood memories of long ago, of being taught by his father, of watching his brothers and sisters play and run in the woods, the yard and through the halls. His father and mother smiling in approval at him, his father leaving him in charge of Winterfell before he departed. And before Robb knew it, a small tear for his father had trickled down his cheek. He wiped at it quickly before reading the letter once more, determined more than ever that he would bring his family back home.
A cool breeze hit her as she entered the room. It carried with it the smell of the sea and everything she had loved as a child. She wasn't part of the Lannister family, but she was still a Lannister - her eldest sister Joanna was the previous Lady of Casterly Rock. And that afforded her time at Casterly Rock - a lot of time in this beautiful castle and all of its luxuries.
"My Lord," Leila chastised, hurrying to get him inside from the cool air. He sat on the balcony, staring out at the sea. "It's too cold out here. You'll freeze to death."
Harrion laughed lightly at her. "I was raised in the North, my Lady," he reminded her as she stopped fussing over him. She placed the furs at his side. If he wanted them, they were there. But it was obvious the chill in the air didn't bother him. "This is actually quite warm for me - too warm."
Leila shook her head and took a seat on a chair next to him. "Winter will be coming soon. You can feel it," she reached her hand out as a sea breeze blew by. "The smell of the sea changes."
"It does change," he smiled. "I remember once when I was a lad, I licked the salt off my skin after my first hunt and could tell - could taste it," he described as she also smiled, feeling enraptured. "Winter was coming - the Starks were right. As descendants from House Stark - my father said that we could tell also. We are the sons of Winter, after all."
"That's beautiful," she whispered, her cheeks warm as he glanced at her. He had heard her reply. Leila cleared her throat. "It must always feel like Winter in the North," she stated as he nodded.
"It does. But even in the North, the days are warm during Summer. Hot even," he teased. And she blushed! Leila never blushed. She looked away but kept the smile on her face. "How many Winters have you seen?"
"Three," she hated to admit it but the smile on his face didn't go away.
"Four," he replied.
Leila studied him before shaking her head. "I do not believe you."
"Well, I do not believe that you have seen the amount that you have," he regarded her. "You still appear youthful and ready for life."
She laughed lightly, the sound was beautiful to his ears - at least he'd admit that much to himself. Though he still found her a bit infuriating for her constant coddling and worrying. He was a commanding soldier, a skilled hunter and a brave man - not some minstrel that only stayed in courts and the halls of nobleman.
"My mother would disagree with you," she sighed.
Her mother was at Lannisport - at least that was the last that she heard. It was one of the few places the Northmen had conquered. House Prester had surrendered, something that caused outrage among Loren, Daron and even Stafford - her brothers. Loren had taken his daughters to Kings Landing before the surrender. So, a part of her blamed her brother's departure on their mother's House bending its knee. They never would have had a Lion stayed to protect its den.
Then again, she thought the same of Casterly Rock and look at where she was now.
Leila looked out at Lannisport - amazed that she could see the ships in the distance. It always held its own sort of beauty - the ships sailing on the horizon. She'd wondered where they went, felt the breeze blow through her hair and smell the salt tickle her senses. It was enchanting to be out there. She was the youngest, so that meant she was left to her own vices. Of course, her mother had left her unchecked during her youth that by the time she had seen several name-days, she wasn't satisfied to play pleasantries in court.
Lannisport had been home for a brief time after her father had died. But then her eldest sister had married Tywin and that had elevated their family just a tiny bit. After Joanna had passed, their mother had always hoped that Leila would be promised to Jamie. But then Jamie had become a Kingsguard and that put an end to any thoughts of another daughter becoming Lady to Casterly Rock.
Then there was talk about her wedding Lancel Lannister, the son of Ser Kevan. It was possible that Tywin would name his brother the heir of Casterly Rock and in turn Lancel would inherit it. But the boy - and he was a boy in Leila's eyes - was spineless and unintelligent. Of course, she was getting older and her mother told her that she couldn't be picky at her age. But she just wasn't moved to matrimony. And many Lords or knights didn't see her, they only saw the name.
Her siblings had wed into House Lefford, House Marband, House Crakehall and House Swyft. Of course, she came from a great House - a lower branch of that House, but a Great House nonetheless.
Regardless of her status, she was content. Her mother called her wild, but she would rather stay a maid then wed a man deep in his cups or fathered bastards at every whore house in every village. Her mind worked differently. She wasn't sure why.
"You seem to be lost in thought," Harrion Karstark observed, pulling her back to the present.
"I am just thinking of my," she paused because she had almost said kin. She didn't want him to know who she was.
"You have a husband in the cells," he asked suddenly, studying her with keen eyes. Her body jerked slightly in shock. Before she shook her head. "No husband," he raised an eyebrow.
Again, Leila shook her head. "I've never wed."
He snorted and shook his head. "My own sister was betrothed on her tenth name-day. Now she is fourteen and if I understand correctly, is waiting for me to return North so I can give her away to her Lord. You are beautiful, my Lady - if you'll excuse me for being so forward with you. I just assumed that you were tending to me to spare your husband's life."
"Well, I have no husband," she straightened. "And your King requested that I tend to you. And I've already told you once before that I am no Lady, my Lord."
Before she could register it, he leaned over and gently ran his hands through her hair. She sucked in a deep breath as their eyes met. He continued to pet her hair and stare at her. Leaning forward he took in her scent, smiling as he pulled back.
"You are no mere serving maid, I know this," the Northern Lord smiled smugly as he settled back in his own chair, withdrawing his hand from her waves.
She wanted to ask how he knew but the answer was clear - the Lord had bedded serving maids, probably many serving maids. That was something that didn't sit well with her. She didn't want to share her husband with other women. If a woman was to do such a thing, she'd be labelled a whore. But a man - he was able to do anything he pleased. Something was wrong with that. And no amount of Lannister blood in her would compel a man to stay away from a whorehouse - the Queen Mother was an excellent example of that.
"You're upset with me for discovering your secret," he assumed.
"No. There is no secret."
He snorted again. "My Lady, you are a liar." She glared at him before staring back out at the ships. "You are protecting someone - that much is certain. Perhaps a lover is in the cells," he suggested.
This time she stood up, flustered and annoyed. They were enjoying a wonderful conversation - the first time she looked at him as a person, not just some stubborn Northern Lord. At the same time, she felt as though he was looking at her, not her House.
"There is no lover in the cells," Leila replied hotly. "Now if you'll excuse me my Lord," she picked up her skirts and made her way to the door.
"What about sup," he questioned.
"I'll send someone else to bring it up to you," she shouted - actually shouted - before slamming the door behind her. "Men are such insufferable beasts! Argh," she stomped her foot and thanked the Seven that she had not wed.
Tyrion watched the smallest flicker of a smile grace his wife's lips before she hid behind her cup. He reached his hand down to hold her hand as his father continued to read the letter. He knew that she was deriving some sort of comfort from the news. Before whenever her brother had been victorious, she was beaten and stripped in the throne room - verbally mocked by the King. Now she was a Lady Lannister - though she never called herself one - and that held some sort of power that allowed her to display her emotions, though small and concealed.
He watched as Cersei's face twisted in annoyance then as the letter stated that the King of the North and of the Trident held her precious Jamie once again. His father's fingers tightened on the letter - the only show of emotion - before he settled it on the table. Tywin Lannister looked up at the men before him, studying them with a calculative eye.
Ser Stafford Lannister and a few others from House Lannister had delivered the news to his father - and had also delivered the letter requesting that the 'young Wolf' have his sister returned to him immediately. Ser Kevan sat next to Tywin. Cersei on the other side. As Tyrion sat on the opposite end of his father, with Sansa by his side.
"If he wants his sister, tell him that he will receive her," Tywin replied.
"Father, surely..."
He merely tapped his hand and Tyrion smiled in delight at seeing his sister silenced. "She is after all, Lady of Casterly Rock." He glanced Sansa's way as Tyrion's hold on her tightened. "I was told that you have not yet had your moon's blood."
"I," she paused, her cheeks turning red before glancing down.
Tyrion wondered why she had not. He certainly had not bedded her. However, the thought of her bedding another did not enter his mind either. He knew that Sansa was a proper Lady. She would never do such a thing. Tyrion licked his lips and looked at his father. "And you know this because..."
"Your cousin Lorena reported it to me. Apparently, Lady Sansa mentioned it during her name-day celebration." Tyrion looked back at Sansa, noticing that she was a bit irritated and apprehensive. "I hope you didn't find it insulting, my dear," Tywin replied. "I had Tyrion place Lorena and Lya there to ensure that a Lannister heir might be born."
"I was simply musing that it hadn't arrived yet," Sansa replied, discussing her moon's blood. Although it was obvious from her blush that she didn't like the topic to be so out in the open. "It could be false, my Lord."
"Either way, you are bond to House Lannister whether your brother likes it or not," he folded the letter. "You may go to Casterly Rock, you and your husband."
"Father," Tyrion laughed. "The King in the North might not take so kindly to knowing that I am wedded to his sister."
"Then let us pray to the Seven that he spare your life," Tywin said as he stood. "Tyrion prepare yourself and your wife for your departure. We'll send you to that boy in the morning."
His father began to exit the room, but not before turning to face his kin.
"Ser Kevan, Ser Stafford and Ser Loren - might I beg another audience with the three of you. I will see the rest of you tomorrow. Good night," he nodded.
Cersei stood up, looking affronted before glancing at her brother and his wife.
"It seems that you'll be returning to your kin, little dove."
Sansa must have known what Cersei was doing because she leaned over - surprising Tyrion - and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. "We will both be returning to our kin. Won't it be exciting husband, to hear the little footfalls of a lion cub in Casterly Rock once again? Our golden-haired children." She looked at Tyrion with such sincerity and honesty, that he had believed her mask of flattery.
Cersei stepped forward, ready to reply but Sansa cut her off.
"Can you imagine me having true-born Lannister lions," she added as Cersei faltered. "I bid you farewell, Queen mother. I should pray that the Gods keep you well as you journey to Highgarden." Sansa smiled prettily as Cersei straightened before giving her a small bow.
"And I should do the same, little dove."
Tyrion had never seen Cersei so lost for words. He didn't have much time to contemplate it before his wife turned to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He held her close as her body trembled with soft sobs. She pulled back and gave him a brilliant smile - one he had not seen in a long time. Sansa Stark was truly a beauty in her own right. Her thick autumn hair and those deep blue eyes - deep as the sea, Tyrion thought.
"I could die of such happiness," she stated as she smiled brightly.
Tyrion reached out and touched her cheek. "I am pleased to find you happy once more, my wife. Although, do not die on me just yet. I believe you promised me, little lion cubs."
They both shared a laugh - which lightened their hearts. Tyrion held out his arm and Sansa welcomed the gesture, falling into his embrace once more as they held each other in the tiny room, oblivious to the plot Tywin Lannister was scheming.
Queen Rhaenys studied the woman before her.
"Your Grace," Smalljon stopped in front of her, bowing his head. "The woman here says that she is from King's Landing, says she needs to see you."
Nysa smiled and looked around. "I see the ravens travel quickly," she teased.
The woman smiled. "I did not hear news of the little Prince until I reached the gates. Neither had I known about Casterly Rock. I had been on my way to journey here to speak with the King."
There was something about the woman that irritated the young Queen. "Why do you look so familiar," Nysa asked her.
"I am from the North, my Queen," she then attempted another curtsy.
Nysa nodded. "Were you from the village near Karhold? Or perhaps near Long Hall," Nysa pressed.
"I came from Winter's town."
"That is closer to where I lived. Have I met you, before?"
She smiled and shook her head. "I doubt it, my Queen, for I worked at the brothel there." Immediate murmurs fell through the hall. She cast her eyes on several of the guards, including a few from House Umber and House Glover. "Before the war started, I left to go to King's Landing."
Nysa released a snicker before sitting back in her chair. "You worked for Lord Petyr Baelish," she stated, more so than questioned.
"I did." Nysa cast her eyes towards Lady Tyta who immediately grabbed the woman and began leading her away. "No, please! I have something important to tell you."
"I will not listen to anything you have to say from Petyr Baelish," Nysa snorted before nodding her head towards the exit.
"But it was not him who sent me," she protested.
"Lord Varys, then," Nysa truly laughed, "that's even worst, see her out. And I do not want to find anyone keeping her in their bed, not here in the Riverlands or in the North," Nysa commanded. "We don't know what information she is trying to get on us."
"I'm not trying to get information," she called from the doorway. "Please! I have word from Lord Tyrion and Lady Sansa!"
"Stop," Catelyn stood up causing Tyta to halt.
"We cannot trust her, she works for Littlefinger," Nysa explained.
"I do not," she proclaimed as she pulled her arm away from Tyta and straightened herself out. "I work for Lord Varys."
"Lord Varys is a Eunuch," Nysa replied, "I was in King's Landing long enough to hear the stories Littlefinger told about everyone on the small council. There's no way that you could work for him."
"I am more than just someone who warms a bed, my Queen. I thought that you would understand that as well as anyone else."
"If you're referring to my bastardy..."
"Forgive me," she bowed quickly. "I meant no insult. I merely wished that we could come to an understanding. We both are not what the world makes us out to be. There's no way to change the fate the Gods give us. Sometimes, we can climb out from where we are. Sometimes, we cannot. But we take what advantages are given us. I would have died in that brothel. Lord Varys offered me a way out."
"You are spying on Baelish for Varys," Nysa tilted her head, "my, my, he would not like that one bit."
"He discovered it," she gulped and looked down. "I was reporting on his movements as regards Lady Sansa."
"And is it only for Lord Varys' benefit?"
The woman bit her bottom lip.
"If it's anything I've learned about Littlefinger is that he does not like to be outsmarted. He prides himself on trickery and deceit. He's an arrogant bastard who thinks too highly of himself," Nysa commented. "Varys, well," she exhaled a deep breath. "I didn't come to trust him either while I was there. Lord Stark told me not to trust anyone while I was there, especially those two. I think I've learned my lesson. I won't be hearing any more of their lies. And you can tell him that when you go back to King's Landing."
"He'll kill me if I return!"
"Such sad stories," Nysa closed her eyes and waved her hand.
"She has word on Sansa," Catelyn pleaded.
"Word from Baelish, word from Varys," Nysa turned to her. "They are manipulators, Lady Catelyn. And we all remember what trouble was caused the last time we listened to words from Baelish."
"Only my word comes from Lady Sansa herself!"
"Liar," Arya shouted at her.
"I'm not lying," she pulled out a parchment from inside her dress and held it out for Nysa.
Nysa looked with bored eyes before gesturing for someone to get the letter for her and bring it to her. She sighed when Smalljon handed it over and began to unroll it. Immediately she recognized Sansa's writing.
"What is your name," Lady Catelyn asked her.
"My name is Ros, my Lady," another curtsy. "And as you can see, the letter is her Lady's handwriting," Ros pressed.
"This could be the Queen regent's words again..."
"I assure you they're not," Ros replied. "I saw Lady Sansa write the letter herself, my Queen. After..."
Nysa lifted her head and stared at the woman. "After what?"
Ros paused for a moment before glancing at Nysa. "Ser Preston Greenfield was executed."
"No," Nysa gasped.
"That's how I knew Lord Baelish couldn't be trusted. Lord Varys found out that Ser Preston was keeping Lady Sansa safe, a promise that he had made to you before you left the Capital. The King Joffrey called him into the throne room and commanded the other Kingsguards who were present to fight him - punishment for being a traitor to his King."
Rhaenys glanced at Ser Barristan to see his grip tightened on his sword. He may not have been a Kingsguard anymore, but it was obvious the pain he felt for his sworn brother.
"He helped us escape King's Landing," Arya looked over at Nysa.
"They heard of that, too. Joffrey flew into a rage. By the time Lord Tywin heard of it," Ros shook her head and looked down to the floor, "Ser Preston's body lay in pieces and his head placed on a spike."
"Lady Sansa?"
Ros looked up.
"As you said before, I asked Ser Preston to look after her," Nysa explained. "What became of her after..."
"The King threatened her with all sorts of vileness. He had her stripped down in the throne room," Ros began as murmurs flew around in the hall. Lady Catelyn stood up and turned towards Nysa who was seething with anger. Nymeria paced back and forth in anger and frustration, snarling and snapping at seeing the three women in distress. Nysa was certain that if Lady were here, she would be the most aggressive at this point. "He brought her out to the wall where the spikes are, showed her that the empty one where her father's head used to be and suggested that perhaps the rest of her family will be up there soon."
"My Sansa," Lady Catelyn gripped her chest in grief as Nysa felt the tears pour out from her eyes as well.
"Lord Tywin reminded Joffrey that Sansa was to be his Aunt."
"His Aunt," Ser Barristan questioned.
"It's all in the letter, Ser," Ros said.
Nysa sighed again and looked down at the letter. "By the time you receive this, I will have been wed to Lord Tyrion," Nysa said slowly and looked at Catelyn briefly before returning to the letter.
"Impossible," Prince Oberyn muttered.
"I know that you've probably received word that Joffrey is to marry Lady Margery, so I was freed of that sort of cruelty. But apparently, I am still - in my own way - a prisoner here at King's Landing. Tyrion has assured me that this letter would reach you all and I believe him. Although, I've been guarded since Ser Preston's death."
"The other Kingsguards," Nysa asked Ros, "do they still mistreat the King's sister?"
"I'm sure things are better since she became Lord Tyrion's wife," Ros answered. "In truth, I was on my way here, the day before Lady Sansa was to wed."
"The letter," Lady Catelyn urged Rhaenys to continue reading.
"Forgive me Nysa for all the unkind and harsh words I told you while you were here in the Capital," Nysa startled and felt her voice crack. "I know you will not believe this Arya," she looked over to see the girl standing at attention, "but you will always be my horse-face sister. I miss you - even our fights."
Arya laughed and then turned away to hide the tears forming in her eyes.
"I miss you, Robb. I cannot believe you are a King. I'm sure you are ten times the King than the one who sits on the Iron throne. Mother, I hope you can forgive me. I told Nysa and father that I did not want to see you," she cast her eyes on Lady Catelyn. "I remember desiring Cersei to be my mother. It was a foolish, girlhood nonsense, I suppose. I love you, mother. I pray for Bran and Rickon and father."
"She has not heard that they are alive," Arya commented.
"The letter has been delayed some," Lyra reminded.
Nysa gritted her teeth as she read the next sentence.
"I pray that Theon hide in the depths of the sea for I know Robb and Nysa will not let him go unpunished. Though I am far, I know I am not alone - for the entire North follows my House. No matter whom they make me wed, I know that I will always be a Stark. Sansa," Nysa finished the letter and looked around before pulling out another small parchment.
"That one is from Lord Tyrion," Ros spoke up.
"She took a notable risk to write us," Catelyn said as Nysa handed her Sansa's letter.
"The words sound more like Lady Sansa," Lyra agreed. "More than that rubbish she sent the first time," she nodded as the other Lords murmured in agreement.
"And this one," Nysa held up the smaller one, "you say is from Lord Tyrion?" Ros nodded her head. Nysa slowly opened it and scanned her eyes through the letter, wondering if she was to read it in front of the Lords as she had with Sansa's. She sighed and then went to stand. "He is thankful that you were able to receive Lord Stark's bones, Lady Catelyn," she glanced at her before looking down at the letter. "He also assures you and Robb that he will do everything in his power to see that Sansa is kept safe." She handed the letter to Lady Catelyn to read through. It was shorter than Sansa's - possibly because he knew that the northerners would rather hear from Sansa than him. "She is wed to Tyrion Lannister."
"Yes, my Queen," Ros replied.
"Someone needs to let the King know," Smalljon stepped forward.
"Indeed," Ser Barristan added. "Especially if he's captured Casterly Rock, Tywin Lannister may not allow Sansa to leave now. No matter how many castles the King in the North takes."
Leila sat in the kitchen eating her meal and thinking of her brother. She had been told that the King of the North had released a few Lannister men to send a message to Lord Tywin. Whatever it was that he wanted, she was certain that he would never get it. Lord Tywin Lannister wasn't one to give in easily. He'd roar and claw at his enemies as much as any lion would.
"My Lady, have you heard," one of the maids asked her. "They say that a Prince was born."
"A Northern Prince," Leila questioned as they nodded. Although Leila was certain that they would claim this wolf pup as a Prince of the Iron Throne. She sighed and fiddled with her bread before slowly getting up. "Thank you, Daisy."
"You're most welcome, my Lady."
"And you, Rin," Leila turned to the older woman in the kitchen. "Are the Northmen treating you and your daughter well?"
"No one has bothered us, my Lady. Although, I've heard that there a few of the girls at the stables and kennels who have been keeping their beds warm."
"They're willingly bedding these foul Northern beasts," Leila appeared insulted.
"I've heard there are many talented Northmen, my Lady," Daisy smiled but not before her mother, Rin, hit her hand.
The older woman whispered something to her daughter before Daisy disappeared into the back of the kitchen. "Forgive her, my Lady. She seems quite taken with Lord Karstark."
Her eyes widened as a strong surge of heat passed through her. She wasn't certain why. Leila shouldn't have cared much about what that oaf of a man was doing. She had been spending less time with Lord Karstark since his health was returning. But the thought of another going to tend to him wasn't sitting well with her.
"Has she gone often to see him?"
"I'm not certain, my Lady," Rin looked frightened at seeing the young woman's offense.
Leila gave her a reassuring smile before nodding to her. "I was merely curious, Rin. There is no offense." She looked around before deciding that it was time she visit the Lord herself. "Forgive me, Rin. I have something I need to attend to."