Journey | Kingsroad
She'd listened to Arya complain from the time she'd knocked and entered the chaotic room, things and dresses strewn about like she'd had strong winds blow through. Their Septa had found her shortly before and asked Sybel to please deal with her. Sybel had known immediately who she was referring to, because it could only ever be Arya that caused the older woman such frustration. And Sybel could see from the harried look that their Septa was nearing the end of her patience. Sybel had obliged, knowing full well that the Septa never really had a lot of patience for Arya to begin with; she was too rough and headstrong and determined to be a boy. And Arya knew it too.
After a number of frowns and its unfair's while she blew through her room, Sybel calmly and gently following in her wake and lightly tidying it all behind her, she finally settled herself and moved over to her bed to lie down. It was hard to hold all of her angry energy in the face of Sybel's softly said reassurances.
"She didn't have to send you, you know," Arya grunted, throwing a ball of twine up in the air before catching it again. "I'm already repacking my things."
Sybel nodded, moving to lie down beside Arya, staring up at the ceiling. "I can see that."
Arya shot her a glare and Sybel laughed. "I will repack my things."
"I know," Sybel said lightly. "And I know you know how to do it properly."
Arya grumbled. "She doesn't think I can do anything properly."
Sybel turned on her side and lightly brushed some of Arya's mused strands away from her face as she frowned, letting some of her anger seep out. Arya saw the way their Septa doted on Sansa but seemed to only have very little tolerance for Arya. And Sybel saw the way Arya watched Sansa and made comparisons and became so angry. "I can understand why it feels that way sometimes, little duck. She does know, though, she just…doesn't always tell you."
"But she's always so mean." Arya rolled over to face Sybel then, her grey eyes just like Sybel's, just like Jon's. The discerning Stark eyes. "It's like she hates me."
Sybel sighed and pulled Arya close to her. Arya settled against Sybel's chest in the way she allowed when she was worried. Normally it was easy to forget how young Arya actually was because she walked around rough and tough, seeming bigger and braver than someone her age actually would be. But every now and then, she'd let Sybel pull her in close and be reminded that she was small and soft too. "My silly duck, she doesn't hate you, she just doesn't understand you. But we certainly all love you."
Sybel stroked her hair back gently and they laid like that for a little while.
Sybel pulled back enough to be able to see Arya's face and gently said. "Sometimes we can get really angry when we are actually feeling really scared."
"I'm not scared." Arya grunted defensively.
"I am."
Silence. Then, quietly and tentatively, "You are?"
"Of course. I'm scared about Bran and I'm scared about leaving. It's OK to feel that way about things that are scary."
Arya was quiet for a while, listening. Arya didn't always have a lot of tolerance for Sansa, but she did for her oldest sister. Sybel said things that made her think she understood, especially at times when it felt like no one did.
"Maybe," Arya accepted. She thought for a minute and rolled back out of Sybel's embrace, and Sybel took that to mean she'd received all the affection she'd needed then. "But I also think I'm really angry because I have to repack my things. They're only going to get messy again anyway, it's not fair."
Sybel laughed and sat up. "Well complaining isn't going to get us very far. Should we have a look at these things and get started?"
Arya grumbled but complied, and Sybel helped her youngest sister until Jon arrived later with his gift. Sybel recognized how important this goodbye would be for Arya, so she left them alone, brushing over Jon's arm as she left.
.
.
.
The early morning air was sharp, a light layer of snow falling, as they began their journey to King's Landing, and Sybel felt the weight of her goodbyes on her. Baby Rickon had cried and cried and cried. Robb had been more stoic than she'd ever seen him before, but when she hugged him, he returned it with more pressure than she was expecting, kissing her head and telling her to be careful. And their mother had tried not to cry as she pulled them close and told them to look after their sisters. They promised.
Bran's goodbye had been the hardest. She'd kissed his sweet cheek and whispered forceful pleas to wake soon, promising to tell him all the stories from her travels when he was well again. She'd tried to leave the room, calling Inferno to heel but the wolf had whined, looking between Bran and Sybel. Inferno was the most protective of all the wolves, fiercely so, and Sybel felt her reluctance to leave Bran mirror her own. She hadn't seen much of her direwolf since Bran's fall because she was always hovering near his rooms, and it suddenly felt comforting to leave knowing she was there watching him. So she'd kneeled down and looked her in the eyes, asking her to look over Bran and keep him safe with Summer. She knew Inferno couldn't understand a word she said, but saying the words made it the tiniest bit easier to leave the room, eyes stinging with unshed tears. Inferno whined but stayed put, and Robb promised to look after her as she made her way down to the courtyard where Jory held her saddled mare.
The first few hours were somber and quiet in their trek, while the Southerners seemed to perk up at the prospect of leaving the cold. They made it to their first stop for their midday meal. Arya had disappeared for a while and returned with mud caked on the bottom of her dress. Sansa had asked Arya why she had to be so dirty all the time, and the squabbling began.
"Enough," Sybel said firmly, sending them to get some distance from one another and noting that they still had a whole month of close quarters travel where they would need to get along. Sansa wailed about how it wasn't fair that she had a sister so set on being so awful to her, and Arya complained about how it wasn't fair that she had a sister so boring. But Arya went off in search of anyone else to talk to, and Sansa sat prettily doing her embroidery.
Jory made eye contact with her from where he stood a ways away, having watched the interaction and quick way Sybel had to squash the squabbling before it became fighting, as it had been known to do. Sybel walked over and smiled, "I think it will benefit everyone on this journey if we keep them separated."
Jory grinned back. "It's a good thing we have you to wrangle them into peacefulness, even if they don't want it."
Before long, they were moving again at the slow pace of the swaying Wheelhouse of the Queen. They were a large company making the trek and Sybel found the hours went quickly when there were so many people to talk to. Mostly though, she would spend her time talking to Alyse.
At the end of the first day, though, she realized that while she may be used to her sister's arguing, she was not used to all the riding. Sybel had always been a competent rider but she'd never ridden so continuously for so many hours. At the end of their days, Sybel would slide down off Faith with stiff movements, the muscles of her thighs sore. Jory was always there to help her and she suspected her father had given him the task of monitoring his daughters because he was never far from them. Jory reminded her she could ride in the wagon with her sisters when Sybel stretched her sore legs, but Sybel could only imagine being incredibly bored stuck on it.
It dawned on her by the third day that she was actually travelling the seven kingdoms—something she'd always day-dreamed about but never actually thought she would do. The North she was familiar with – she had visited other Northern lord's castles for parties and the like, but she was now getting further and further South than she had ever been. The land started out as lush and wild, but as they travelled over stone bridges and past fast running rivers, further down through the Neck, the more everything seemed to become more spaced, drier, warmer, more humid. Sybel would shuck off her warm winter coat in the mornings as the sun warmed her more than it ever had before, and she found she had to pick her dresses more carefully lest she layer herself too much and overheat in the sun.
They stopped frequently during their journey for rests and food. Sometimes they would stop because the Queen would command it though no one was really privy to the why of those stops. And every few days they stopped for entire days while the hunting parties went out to gather more meat. On those days, Sybel would take the opportunity for many walks to stretch her sore limbs, stopping to talk with the familiar and not-so-familiar faces.
She was finding she was struggling with all the warmth though, and she was quickly finding that the humidity was even worse. They travelled through bogs where the stench seemed to hang in the air at times, no breeze or harsh wind to push it away. Through the Neck there were no inns for them to stop at in the night, no heartily cooked meals in kitchens and warm hearths for her to become sleepy in front of. Instead they had to set up small tents that her and her sisters shared, and sit around open fires where the gamey meat was cooked. Sybel was too tired to care but Sansa made her displeasure known, often triggering Arya to defend it and argue that she had never had so much fun. When they would change into their nightclothes for bed, Sybel would see new bruises or scrapes on Arya, and Arya would grin and just say adventures in reply to any questions on how she got them.
Sybel slept between her sisters; it was how they'd always slept on the few occasions they had shared a bed. Sybel had always thought she got a good deal because she benefited from a warm body on either side of her. But now she was trying her hardest not to get too close to their warm bodies when the heat filled their tent and made her feel almost stifled. She didn't even think it was that warm but the comparison to their home was stark enough for her to notice.
Sybel lasted six nights before she couldn't take it anymore. She tossed and turned between her sisters for what felt like hours. Occasionally she fell into a restless light sleep, only to be easily woken by passing guards or the crack of wood in the fire. Finally, she sat up and climbed quietly out of their bed. She sat for a moment on the edge, looking over the two direwolves on the ground beside the bed and Alyse on the other side of the tent on her own small bed, contemplating what she would do. She found a dressing gown to wrap around her—as much as she was loath to add more layers—and exited their tent. She was immediately met with fresher air and she breathed in deeply, closing her eyes and savouring it. She pulled her layers away from her neck to have breathing space, immediately feeling better. Thank the gods.
"My lady?" Jory's tired voice startled her, and she quickly opened her eyes again to find him standing close by between her small tent and her father's small tent. "Are you well?"
Sybel breathed in deeply again, pulling her gown away from her neck a bit more. "I miss the cold."
Jory chuckled, and she saw the flash of his teeth in a grin while most of his face was in shadows cast by the tents blocking the moon. "I think we all miss the cold. You best go back inside though, you still have a few hours before everyone will be waking as well."
Sybel shook her head. "I'd really like to take a walk, Jory. Just for a short while, if that's alright."
Jory nodded and gestured for the other guardsman Eryk to stay put. "I will accompany you."
Sybel went to tell him that it wasn't necessary as she wouldn't go far, but she realized that their camp was full of people she didn't know, in a place she didn't know, and it was dark. She really ought to be accompanied. "Thank you."
Their steps were quiet in the night and they occasionally passed patrolling guardsmen and dying fires. When a man stumbled by smelling of alcohol, she felt much better having Jory by her side. She moved closer to him, wrapping her hands around his arm as though he were escorting her. "I'm sorry to be a bother."
"You're not a bother, my lady," he shook his head, bending his arm to be more accommodating. "I think we're all a little bit restless with this humidity. It should improve a bit when we're out of the Neck."
Sybel breathed a sigh of relief. "I look forward to that then."
They were quite for a while and Jory started to ask her a question at the same time a familiar voice just ahead of them said, "It's very late for you to be out on a stroll."
They paused and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the shadows he was hidden in. Sybel realized they had wandered towards the Royal family's tents. She thought she could see the dark shape of the Wheelhouse further ahead.
"I couldn't sleep, ser Jaime," she said as he stepped forward enough for the moon's silver to catch on his gold. His eyes darted down to Sybel's entwined hands on Jory's arm and he smirked. She couldn't help but think of their last encounter, of his closeness, the tension she felt in her body. She blushed hard. "It's too hot."
"You'll find Kingslanding even hotter."
Jory's voice was amenable but his eyes were hard as he looked at the Lannister. "My lady, perhaps we should return to your tent now."
Sybel started to nod in reply when Jaime cut in, "Could I have a moment of your time, Lady Stark?"
"You can have a moment of her time when it is the day," Jory said firmly, before Sybel could say anything.
Jaime's eyes flicked to him before locking back onto Sybel as he ignored Jory's words. "In private."
Jory made a noise of protest.
With their last encounter still on her mind, Sybel had to admit she was torn between wanting to run back to her tent and being incredibly curious about what he could possibly want to talk to her about. What he would ask to talk to her about. When usually it was just showing up and interjecting; heated conversations in passing; smirks and tension. But if she was honest, if she pushed aside the guilt he sparked in her belly that made her think of Bran, and if she pretended to be braver than she actually was, she'd know she wanted to stay. But if she considered that—especially with their last encounter in mind—she knew she should probably just go back to her tent like Jory said. Good things didn't come to girls who had conversations in the dark with men whose reputation was supposedly less than honourable—at least in her father's eyes, anyway.
She looked up at the kingsguard to say as much but the words didn't come out. "Perhaps...a minute would be OK, Jory, if you stay nearby."
"I don't think your Lord father would be happy about this," Jory pressed quietly, turning to look at her and seeming to pretend the Lannister Kingsguard wasn't there. Jory's solid frame felt close and she almost felt tension radiating from his well-muscled form. Anticipating the worst in the way any good Capitan would.
"And I don't think my mother would be happy about my rejecting the Queen's brother," Sybel said quietly. It was a bit of a stretch, she knew, because her mother wouldn't favour conversations in the dark either. But she didn't let herself think on it too much. Besides, she was hardly alone with Jory right there. And when Jaime ginned like that, goading her with his eyes, daring her to stay, she found it hard to back down. "It will be alright, Jory. Just don't go far."
He pressed his lips together but nevertheless moved backwards enough paces to be out of ear shot but still able to see them. She smiled at him and the tension in his mouth lessened slightly.
Jaime's voice brought her attention right back to him and when she turned she saw he'd moved a bit closer to where she could see him a bit better. She realized that this would also mean he could see her better and she consciously pulled her robe around her more and wondered about the state of her hair—it was wild at the best of times but at night it only seemed more untameable, disheveled from her tossing and turning. His eyes dropped to watch her pull the material more fully around her and he grinned at her actions but didn't comment. "You've left your beast in the North, I see."
Sybel blinked. And then frowned. He wanted to talk to her about… her direwolf?
"She…is a creature of the North. Besides, she has a more important job than guarding me all the way South." Sybel shrugged.
"If you think you won't need protecting in the South, then you are being more foolish than usual," he snarked, crossing his arms and the movement made him look broad and strong and…male. She reddened even more if possible, because the thought came to her along with flashes of those arms braced close to her, her back pressed into hard wall, tension thick in the small space between their bodies. Had she just imagined that? Had she just been so comically affected because of how young and inexperienced she was? The thoughts flittered through her brain one after the other and she thought maybe her heart was beating a little faster than normal.
When she found her words, they came out more snappish than she intended, trying to cover for her flustered state.
"I'm not foolish." Her eyes flashed. "And I don't need protecting."
She did. She knew she did, but now she was just feeling stubborn.
She would have missed him rolling his eyes were it not for the flickers of green moving in the moonlight. "Forgive me for not believing you while you're out here at night accompanied by a most untrustworthy sort."
His eyes darted over her shoulder at Jory behind her and she choked on a laugh when she realized who he was referring to. She trusted Jory with her life. Her expression spelled how idiotic she thought he was being. "Jory is the most trustworthy."
He snorted. "I beg to differ. No man looks at a woman the way he looks at you and has completely innocent thoughts on his mind."
She just stared at him, her brain taking its time to catch up with his words. It puzzled her—and irritated her—how insistent he was that Jory thought of her as more than just the daughter of her Lord father. Then again, she had the sudden realisation, it was a good way to fluster her. To taunt, and push away and feel powerful. To be mocking under the guise of looking out for her but with a deliberate lack of care he put forth so there was no mistaking his intent. No mistaking he wanted to throw her off balance and no mistaking he wanted her to know he wanted it.
"I…" she cleared her throat. She decided not to rise to his well laid bait. "I don't think I have ever met a man as hell-bent on proving he isn't any kind of decent, as you Ser Jaime."
His grin was wicked. "That's because I'm not any kind of decent."
"Bad men don't have to try so hard to prove it." For the first time, he didn't have an immediate retort. Or at least it seemed he couldn't decide which scathing reply he would use next. So she pressed on quickly, eyeing him up and down and feeling more like she might be gaining the upperhand in the conversation he initiated. Like she was the one probing for something more rather than deflecting deflecting deflecting. Quietly, seriously, she asked, "Why do you act like being decent is a fate worse than death?"
He followed her example and ignored her question. Instead he looked at her like he thought she was silly for even asking something like that. "I would hardly think your skills at differentiating good from bad are anything to go by."
He had her on the backfoot again, so easily and smoothly. Her lips tightened. "I do just fine, thank you very much."
He deliberately and slowly eyed Jory over her shoulder again, making sure she saw. "Clearly not."
"Why must you keep insinuating that Jory wants…" She gestured with her hand, unsure how to phrase it.
"To fuck you?" He easily supplied and her blush returned with fervor, and didn't he just love it, eyes missing nothing and lips widening in a smirk.
It caused a jolt of surprise and incredulousness to flare through her whole body and she suddenly didn't know what to do. He was brazen and improper and exactly why Jory was right about returning to the tent, exactly why agreeing to talk with unfamiliar men at night in her nightdress was foolish. She should know better; hadn't she been warned about dastardly men who pose as kind and chivalrous on the surface? The kind that took liberties with naïve and unsuspecting girls? The only difference might've been that Jaime didn't hide his intentions. And the way his smirk had that pull that made her think this was different, that he was different to those other ruinous men.
She huffed out a breath at the obvious drive he had to prove all the men in her life right about him.
"Stop it," she snapped, finally. A reminder that just because she was curious about him didn't mean he could be too familiar with her. The idea simultaneously excited and terrified her and she felt that thrill from her cheeks to her toes. "You're being inappropriate."
He moved a step closer, and his eyes flicked over to Jory again as she heard him heavily step forward in response. His eyes were a warning though and she didn't hear any more steps. He lowered his voice at her, inclining his head down like he was telling her a great secret. "I'm doing it because you're not listening."
She was listening. He just wasn't saying anything—anything that actually felt real, anyway, or was any kind of truth. She sighed at him before it occurred to her what would stoke his ire this time. "You seem awfully concerned about my safety, good ser. This is the second—third?—time you've commented on it now. Surely a bad man wouldn't be as concerned as you seem to be."
She pursed her lips to stop a grin when she got what she wanted and saw the responding irritation in his eyes. He rolled his eyes at her words, much preferring her blushing and frustrated and truthful. But she was getting a little fed up about being the only truthful one.
He grimaced like her implication that he was not as bad as he portrayed himself to be disgusted him. "Don't insult me."
"Then don't insult me," she replied curtly. As the thrill died down in her body, it was replaced by a sudden sense of tiredness, all the restless sleep catching up to her when faced with all the effort that he required. "I'm tired, Ser Jaime. I think I will retire for what is left of the night."
It was clear he'd only wanted to taunt her some more—perhaps bored with his night and looking for something to occupy him, if only for a minute and if only to cause her difficulty with her family knowing how they felt about him.
Jory appeared beside her then and she wondered if he sensed how much she wanted to return to her bed. Or he'd grown tired of waiting for Jaime Lannister to step back away from her. "My lady? Is everything alright?"
"Everything is fine, Jory," She eyed the Lannister knight before looking back at Jory. "Would you return me to my tent? I've had enough of the night air now."
Jory nodded in an 'of course', gesturing for her to turn around and head back in the direction they arrived. As Jory went to follow her, Jaime's hand grabbed onto Jory's in a tight hold and he leant down close to Jory's face in what looked like a warning gesture. threatening, with all the weight of a kingsguard.
"Remember your place, ser," he said harshly—more genuinely harshly than she'd ever heard from him before. Normally his harsh was mixed with mocking—but this seemed closer to genuine anger than snark. He again moved his face closer in to Jory's ear in what she supposed was meant to be a whisper, but was more of a low hiss.
Sybel heard it anyway. Of course she did—he wasn't trying to be subtle. "She's above your station."
Her lips parted at the nerve of him. She was getting more and more fed up with this particular teasing, especially now that he'd started to say it to others—and she had the sudden thought then that maybe he did it because he, like her brothers and Theon, had noticed her favour of Jory. She flushed red in embarrassment, feeling silly and feeling like Jaime was intent on throwing it in her face too. She didn't need the reminder that the few secrets she tried to keep to herself were clearly not so well kept.
Both males seemed to forget she was there as they were locked in a stand-off, both looking like they were coiled and prepared for any action. Jory's eyes became hard as he kept eye contact with Jaime, replying just as low and slow. "She's above yours too"
They seemed to go stiller, if even possible. Sybel almost thought they were waiting for some movement by the other that would justify a physical altercation. They looked…primed for a fight, fueled by their obvious dislike of the other. Jory bristling with the insult—at Jaime targeting him so unfairly—and Jaime holding an expression of well-contained anger. On the surface, he almost looked blasé.
But his voice was goading. The only indication he wasn't quite so indifferent. "You have a soft spot for her."
"Everyone has a soft spot for my lady," Jory retorted. His teeth were clenched.
"My lady," Jaime mocked, "I'm sure you wish she was your lady to—"
Sybel raised her voice at them, in the way she sometimes had to when Arya and Sansa were fighting and just working themselves up more and more. "Enough of this…this…ridiculous posturing. You both ought to know better, you're guardsmen for godssake. Act like it."
They stared at her for a minute and when she shook her head and turned away to go back to her tent, they roughly let go of each other. Jory quickly fell into step beside her and the walk back would've felt more awkward had she been any less tired in her bones and actually able to pay attention to anything other than wanting to sleep. Then again, she also didn't really want to think about what had just happened because it raised more questions than she had answers to and made her feel more than a little confused.
When they arrived at the tent flap, Jory gently touched her elbow and she turned to look at him quizzically. In the last year, she couldn't remember a time when Jory had actually touched her.
"My lady…" He looked like he was searching for the words. Sybel didn't really want him to find them though. It would be easier for her to just pretend it hadn't happened.
"You don't need to worry, Jory. I don't put much stock in what he says," she reassured, knowing it was an out and out lie.
He shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat. As he brushed his hair back sheepishly and Sybel stared at him, she felt Jaime's words go around and around in her mind almost to spite her empty reassurance. This is exactly what he wanted, she thought. "I… that's good. Goodnight, my lady."
"Goodnight, Jory."
She entered the tent, feeling the warm creep back over her again and she ripped her dressing gown off. Lady and Nymeria raised their heads at the quick movement before settling back down to return to sleep. Their big fluffy chests seemed to rise and fall in quick motions like they were panting and she figured they were struggling with the warmth as well.
Sybel met Alyse's wide eyes staring at her in the dark, giving her a questioning look, clearly having heard the brief discussion outside the tent. Sybel looked at her sleeping sisters and shook her head, indicating they would talk later. It would give Sybel time at least to figure out what to say.
She crawled back onto the mattress of furs on the ground and squished between her sisters. This time though, her eyes drooped easily and she fell into a deep sleep.
.
.
.
The Queen invited Sybel to join her in their Wheelhouse for tea one morning when they were finally out of the Neck and about half-way into their journey. The air had cooled back down and the humidity reduced, though it wasn't cold like Winterfell. They had stopped for their hunting party to gather more meat for their next few days between inns when the messenger had arrived at their rooms during their breakfast and handed over the neatly written invitation. Their father read it aloud, frowning, and Sansa had been jealous until she'd heard that the rest of the note invited the other Stark girls to join her majesty and the princess again in the Wheelhouse tomorrow when they set out.
Septa Mordane would normally give them lessons on their non-travelling days, however told them that they wouldn't get anything done today with all of the excitement. Sybel was sure that their Septa just wanted a day to herself as well because Sybel could not say she was excited. And nor would she say Arya's expression was excitement. Instead, she only felt a roiling nervousness in her stomach that made her feel finished with her food despite there still being some cheese and bread on her place. Why would the Queen want to see her, and without her sisters? It would've made more sense for her to invite Sansa given the earlier announcement for a betrothal between Sansa and the prince. Why would Sybel be of any interest to the Queen?
Their father stood up, kissed each of them on the head, telling them to be good, before leaving their rooms. They hadn't seen much of him at all lately as he would leave early to meet with the King and come back late. If they were lucky, they would share their breakfast and dinner with him, but most of the time it was only their dinner.
Their Septa seemed to read her thoughts. "You best get used to it, my dear. He's only going to get busier when we arrive in Kingslanding." Sybel sighed. "Now, make sure you make yourself presentable for the Queen today. How you look is very important."
Sybel sighed again and stood to go back to her rooms to find a more appropriate dress, not really able to think about what she would wear when she was too worried about what she could possibly have to say to the Queen. Sansa excitedly bounced along behind her, chattering about helping Sybel pick out her best dress for the honour. Alyse followed closely behind, and Arya scampered off with Nymeria.
They dug through her trunk, Sansa helpfully discarding most until she came across her deep green silk dress. It was Sybel's favourite dress because she thought the colour brought out the red of her hair and rosy hue of her skin. Sybel wanted to save it for a special occasion but Sansa insisted that this was the dress she should meet the Queen in.
She undressed quickly, feeling more and more like she needed to get this over with already. Sansa watched her closely as Alyse laced up the dress, pulling it firm around her chest and emphasizing the curve of her waist.
"Do you think I will grow breasts like yours?" Sansa asked suddenly, red in the face.
Alyse burst out laughing and their Septa called out a chiding Sansa! from the other room. Clearly the walls were thin and sound travelled. Sybel's mouth was hanging open in shock before lowering her voice to avoid their Septa hearing them. "Where did that come from, Sansa?"
She looked like she hadn't thought her question through and no longer wanted to say anything, but Alyse teasingly prompted her to continue. "Come now, don't leave us wondering!"
Sansa kept her voice lower this time, from both embarrassment and to keep out of their Septa's earshot. "It's just… I see the way the men look at your chest—"
Sybel went bright red and Alyse burst out laughing again, unable to contain herself at the unexpected turn of conversation. Alyse knew exactly how much knowing that would affect Sybel who was doing her best to be sweetly oblivious to the way she was looked at now.
"They do not," Sybel denied, face hot.
"They certainly do!" Both Alyse and Sansa cried at the same time before descending into a fit of laughter again. Alyse added, "From my understanding, that particular part of your body is quite well liked by—"
"Stop," Sybel cried out. "No more. I don't like it when you both team up on me!"
Alyse raised her hands in surrender and stood to start trying to tame her dark red hair by pulling it to the side over her shoulder in a loose thick braid. Alyse easily answered Sansa while Sybel tried to cool her hot face.
"M'lady, you haven't yet bled but when you do, you too will grow more in the way of breasts, I'm sure… but in truth I don't know they will be quite like your sisters," she giggled and Sybel's face returned to its prior shade of red, "but I'm sure they will be just as well liked by your Prince."
Sansa beamed red, stood up and daintily put a leading rope around Lady before announcing she would take her for a walk. Alyse finished Sybel's hair and then dusted off her hands like she was done her job, before placing her hands on her hips and looking Sybel dead on in a no-nonsense kind of way.
"I've been wondering, m'lady, if you're alright and all after, well…" She lowered her voice so it wouldn't carry, "when you were gone from the tent?"
Sybel glanced towards the door and instead said, "I really should be getting on my way but maybe you could walk me to the Wheelhouse?"
"Of course, m'lady!" Alyse nodded and as they left, the passed a snoring Septa Mordane.
They walked slowly in the direction of the Queens preferred mode of transport. She seemed to stay in there, even when they stayed at inns, so Sybel could only assume that it must be far nicer inside than the plain wooden exterior would make it seem.
"So…?" Alyse trailed off questioningly. With Alyse's penchant for chatter, she assumed her lack of it right then was an indication of how much she wanted to know what Sybel had been doing.
Sybel looked around, keeping her voice low with all of the people passing around them. "I, well, I needed to get some air, the tent was so hot...and Jory and I went for a walk and..."
Alyse's eyes went wide and shocked. "M'lady, did something happen between you and Jory? Do I need to tell your lord father he is—"
"No! No it's nothing like that!" Sybel quickly said, not especially surprised at where Alyse's active mind would take her when Sybel trailed off like that. But how could she explain something she was actively avoiding thinking about herself. "Nothing happened between me and Jory."
Now that she knew Sybel hadn't been misled in the harshest way a woman could be, Alyse could revert to a friend intrigued by a bit of gossip rather than a handmaid worried for her lady's future. Not that she believed Sybel would ever be improper outside of marriage—the girl blushed and flushed far too easily—but she wouldn't put it past other men to be a bit too friendly and for her to be a bit too trusting. And Alyse always worried at least a little about that for her lady.
"Now you're just teasing me," Alyse harrumphed at her, pointedly looking around at the lush grass, healthy trees and stone of the inn building rather than at her.
Sybel smiled and grabbed onto Alyse's arm to lean in close, almost in a conspirator kind of way. Alyse liked that; had always considered herself lucky to be a handmaid to someone who could see her as a trusted companion rather than just a handmaid. The households where that was allowed were few and far between. It only made her hold tight to every secret Sybel had ever shared; not willing to put herself in a position of losing that. "I don't mean to. I just…we ran into Jaime."
"Of House Lannister?" Alyse looked surprised—both at the fact that it was him who she'd run into and in her casual use of his name without title—but nodded for Sybel to continue. "And?"
"And I don't know," Sybel sighed, exasperated. "We spoke for a while. He kept insinuating that Jory thought of me as more than just my father's daughter and kept implying that I needed protecting and then Jory and he seemed to get into some sort of silly argument about it too. I actually thought they were going to fight each other; it was just so…ridiculous."
Alyse mouth gaped open and she looked like she didn't know what to say just as much as Sybel didn't. "...That sounds exactly like those songs m'lady's sister likes so much."
If she didn't know better and didn't know the intentions of the men in question better like she did, then it did almost sound like a bard's song. Sybel knew better though and that's what made her feel so silly. Sybel groaned. "And that's not even the worst of it."
Alyse could barely contain her interest, "Oh please tell me the worst of it, m'lady."
So Sybel told her about her interaction with Jaime in Winterfell, blushing and halting in her retelling as people approached her and made quick conversation with her, all the while Alyse stood there impatiently waiting for it to be over so Sybel could continue. With each part, it seemed like Alyse just became more and more confused.
"I never would have believed you would pick a fight—and with him of all people—if you hadn't just told me yourself!"
"I didn't pick a fight, I just…directed my frustration at him unfairly…" Sybel trailed off weakly, not even able to convince herself. Alyse certainly wasn't being convinced either.
Alyse was silent and Sybel joined her in it. It was hard to know what to say or think or do about any of it. Then, Alyse—ever ready to teasingly say the thing that would cause Sybel to combust with embarrassment—grinned at her. "By the gods, what is it like to have two men fighting over you."
Despite her playfulness, Alyse did have a sense of worry that she held back and that had only grown as her lady told her story—worry at the way the Knight was too easy in her lady's company, not taking care to tread lightly with his words. It made her worry what else he might not tread lightly with.
Sybel halted them, cutting her off, spluttering and red again. "That is not what is happening."
Alyse looked at her in laughing disbelief, pretending not to know better. "I'm sorry m'lady, but was I the only one listening to your story?"
"He makes me so—"
"Hot and bothered, by the sounds of it," Alyse mumbled, eyes sliding sideways to make sure Sybel had heard. Sybel caught her glance and looked at her pointedly.
"He likes to mock me and Jory is the Captain of my father's guard. That's all it is." Sybel felt the need to defend, justify, explain. Despite knowing that Alyse was making fun so that it would feel less heavy and confusing.
"You know, my mother always told me that if a boy is mean to you, it is because he has an interest in you."
It was a saying mothers told their daughters after they came home crying because the other little boys had hurt them; meant to reassure and calm them enough to send them back out to play so they could continue on with their chores unimpeded. Sybel snorted. "When we were children, maybe. But he is well past the age to be pulling hair and throwing mud."
"I don't think boys ever really out-grow it, m'lady." She gave Sybel a pointed look and a cheeky wink.
Sybel frowned, thinking about that Lannister again and how he behaved, how amused he always seemed whenever he looked at her. Like she was the joke in everything he said. She just became more and more sure that he held little interest in her beyond entertaining himself.
"Alyse, please," she begged. "I can't think about this right now when I'm about to talk with the Queen."
Sybel did feel better having told someone about her interactions with Jaime Lannister, though; it felt less like she was keeping secrets and was a weight off her.
Alyse conceded easily, though continued to mull over everything her lady had said. "It will be fine, I'm sure. You will charm the Queen the same way you do with everyone else you meet."
Sybel mumbled a non-committal response, a heavy sense of foreboding on her. Because the Queen had no reason to spend any time with her at all—it was Sansa who would marry her son, not Sybel. So why did she suddenly have such an interest in her?
