*A/N: this is the point in the story that the original story got up to before I re-wrote it. I would suggest looking at previous updated chapters to better understand where things are at if you were reading the original story chapters! Thanks!
Wheelhouse | Kingsroad
The Wheelhouse was bigger inside than Sybel would have guessed. On one side were small beds piled high with furs and velvets and plump pillows, gilded latticework partitions separating them. Sybel supposed they were for the Princes and Princess, and when she saw one of the beds was covered in dolls, she felt she had guessed correctly. Myrcella loved her dolls. On the other side, on a raised dais, was a grand bed, just as richly heaped with sheets and pelts and all manner of soft things. And in the middle, even with walking space to spare, was a low seated table surrounded by more of those plush pillows.
The Wheelhouse was full of colours—deep and full, to light and shimmery. But everywhere there was gold; the wooden trimmings, the fake foliage painted to look like it was growing up the walls, the candelabras and lanterns littered about. It was opulent and extravagant, and even though the structure was slow and sometimes all she could hear was the groaning of the wood swaying along, she had to admit it looked more comfortable than her options for travel; her mare or the wooden cart.
Despite all of the beauty in the Wheelhouse, the Queen still easily surpassed it all, standing before Sybel in a richly embroidered and patterned dress of wine coloured velvet. The sleeves hung loose and low, the material flowing around her tall and regal frame, and Sybel couldn't help but notice that the Queen's neck and tops of her breasts were visible. Sybel looked down at her own dress; the comparatively conservative neckline and colour, and what had moments before been her special occasion dress now seemed drab in comparison.
"I can see you appreciate my wheelhouse," the Queen smiled sweetly as Sybel lowered down in a curtsey. She let Sybel stay there for a moment before gesturing her over to the table to be seated. The Queen's three handmaidens sat themselves on cushions off to the side, waiting instructions. They barely made any noise, so much so that it would be easy to forget they were there. She guessed that it was probably why the Queen picked them as her handmaidens.
"It is beautiful, your grace," Sybel nodded, her mouth still open in awe.
"Wait until you see the Capital—it is a hundred times grander than what we have been able to fit into this small contraption." Sybel wouldn't be able to believe her until she saw it with her own eyes. The Queen seemed to guess at her line of thinking. "A touch nicer than what you're used to, I would guess."
Sybel couldn't be sure but she almost thought her voice was… mocking, maybe. She had seen the upturned nose and occasional disdain on her face as she regarded the North. That, combined with the quick flashes in her mind of more masculine features and shorter golden hair made her think that maybe she could be just as mocking as her brother. They were related; it fit that they all carried the same smug self-satisfaction at times. But for some reason, Sybel thought the Queen would be above anything petty, silly or otherwise unkind.
"Just a touch," Sybel smiled kindly, pretending she hadn't noticed the tone. She was the Queen after all—she was entitled to her superiority, and it was Sybel's job to accept it with ease. "We do have luxuries in the North, your grace, they just tend to be of a practical sort is all."
The Queen didn't give much away in her expressions and instead seemed to smile serenely all the time that it would never allow anyone to guess at what she was actually thinking. Only the hard glinting emerald of her eyes gave away the possibility of something else, something harsher or crueler than her smile would suggest. Sybel was struck by how very different hers and Jaime's eyes were despite being exactly the same. His eyes felt like they burned her, while Cersei's seemed to chill her.
The Queen laughed, light and lilting. "I imagine the extravagance might almost offend you. You are a Stark, after all."
She continued to smile like the idea of offending Sybel was her last worry in the world. Or even like it was the point. Sybel wasn't sure but she felt herself become even more aware and self-conscious than she was on entering the Wheelhouse.
"Oh certainly not, your grace!" Sybel rushed to reassure, ensuring she was as pleasant as she could be, while wondering at the feeling of disingenuousness she got from the whole conversation with the Queen. Despite the Queen's endearing smile and the invitation this morning, Sybel was very quickly feeling like she was not actually welcome. There was an incongruence between her kind smile and her measuring eyes that left Sybel feeling confused as to why the Queen had wanted to have tea with her in the first place. "I'm sure you must be glad to be returning to Kingslanding."
"Yes," she nodded. "We have been gone too long as it is."
Sybel only nodded politely, trying not to think too much on the reason for their delay. One of the Queens handmaidens stepped forward and poured them both some tea from an intricate patterned teapot into two small matching teacups. Another stepped forward to place a plate of honey cakes on the table before them, and Sybel smiled in thanks at them. They did not smile in return, only glancing to their Queen before quickly moving away. Sybel waited for the Queen to drink before she touched her own, every decorum lesson her Septa ever taught her running through her mind.
"Are you also looking forward to the Capital?"
The Queen picked up a cake, so Sybel did too. "Certainly, your grace."
"Can I give you a bit of advice then?" She did not wait for Sybel to reply. "You ought to remember you're not in the North anymore, so you will need to dress to the Court. Your younger sisters might be able to get away with it a bit more but there will be a higher expectation on you to look the part."
Sybel turned red, her face hot. The Queen's handmaidens covered their grins with their hands. The Queen still wore her sickly sweet smile. She recognized the intention of her words then; recognized the insult guised as helpfulness. Or really, she saw it in her unwavering gaze on Sybel. Sybel didn't know what to say; she'd never been in a situation where someone was intentionally trying to make her feel…small. Sybel thought that she might not have even conversed with anyone who didn't seem to even like her at least a little—except for maybe Jaime. But she couldn't quite get a read on what he thought about her.
Quietly, she asked, "And what part is that, your grace?"
"A demure noblewoman waiting to be taken to her marriage bed." She laughed like this was obvious. "You have such a sweet innocence."
Sybel's face was still hot and it made the Queen smile wider. "But I'm not married."
"We shall fix that quickly, don't you worry." The Queen leaned forward like she was whispering in confidence, like Sybel did shortly before with Alyse. Except she trusted Alyse completely; she was getting the impression that maybe she shouldn't trust the Queen. "I will help you."
"That is very kind of you, your grace. But surely you have more important things pressing on your time than my marriage prospects." Sybel continued to feel confused and it must have shown in the furrows on her face because the Queen laughed like Sybel had so much to learn.
The Queen leant back, eyes looking her up and down, surveying her. "You will quickly understand when you're married that the only important thing you have to do is spread your legs and give your husband sons."
She could be just as crass as her brother. Sybel didn't know what to say, so she kept quiet and took a large mouthful of still hot tea. The Queen gestured at her handmaidens and one quickly brought over a goblet of wine and two cups. She poured one for the Queen and then went to pour one for Sybel.
"Oh no, thank you. My father only allows us one cup at feasts."
The Queen laughed incredulously. "Your father isn't here. He's off somewhere hunting with my husband, and you don't have to do everything he tells you. You're old enough to make your own decisions, don't you think Lady Sybel? Drink with me."
It was a command. So Sybel took a sip. She had seen the way the Queen drank; like she needed it to get through, to tolerate the goings-on around her, to stomach her husband the King. Sybel wondered what it was about herself that the Queen was finding so hard to stand.
They drank for a while longer, tea and cakes apparently forgotten, and Sybel's face warmed further in reaction to the wine. The Queen asked her about Sansa and what she thought she would be like as the wife of the future King of the Seven Kingdoms. Sybel found her tongue much looser now, though she praised Sansa as a perfect lady in the way she would've even without the drink. She was also asked about Bran and if she'd heard anymore from her mother about his condition. Sybel told her about how they had received a message that morning from her mother indicating that the maester thought he might wake soon as he seemed to have a bit more colour with every passing day. The Queen gave her an empathetic expression that was too tight.
The handmaiden filled their cups again and the Queen continued to encourage her to drink a bit more, even though Sybel didn't want any more. She was not in any position to refuse the Queen though, and as she drank a bit more she felt that it wasn't all that bad. The taste was more enjoyable the more it was drunk and she quickly realised why men could imbibe too much so easily. The Queen drank deeply but it didn't seem to have the same effect on her the way it did on Sybel; her eyes remained just as alert while Sybel felt her tongue trip over her words ever so slightly. She tried to politely answer the questions the Queen threw at her, trying to keep a handle on herself enough not to embarrass herself.
Then, finally, when it felt like Sybel really shouldn't have any more to drink lest she start indiscriminately sharing every thought in her head, the Queen seemed to almost too-flippantly comment, "I hear you've been talking with Jaime."
Sybel felt her heart stutter to a halt. This, Sybel's mind yelled at her, this is what she actually wants to talk about. She wasn't sure how she knew, but Sybel felt the question wasn't as unimportant to the Queen as she made it sound.
Sybel blinked at her. "I…"
Her eyes were so green and so shrewd. Sybel's comparatively were far too readable.
Her brain felt a little sluggish as she tried piecing things together enough to understand the point of this question, to know how to answer best. It gave her pause long enough to carefully consider her own words, and the Queen stared at her as though this would be the most important answer she would give all morning.
"Only once or twice, your grace." She tried saying it like the few meetings they'd had were of so little consequence to her that she could barely even recall how often they had met. The lie felt uncomfortable in her mouth but as she said it, it felt safest. "We've only really spoken in passing."
It was only somewhat of a lie. But she didn't want the Queen knowing how much time she'd spent with him for just in passing.
Why would the Queen care who she spoke to, though? Unless… had Jaime told her of their interactions? She couldn't fathom why when he acted like they were of so little consequence to him—why would it be worth discussing with anyone, let alone wasting the Queen's time. But then, she was his sister, perhaps a confidant in the way Alyse was for her. She dismissed the idea quickly; she could hardly imagine Jaime Lannister voluntarily confiding or gossiping or talking with anyone in anyway that would require him being at least a tiny bit vulnerable.
When the Queen continued to look at her expectantly, Sybel felt the need to give more information when her cause probably would've been best helped by remaining silent. "Maybe three times, your grace. I think. I'm not quite sure."
The Queen just looked at her. Sybel swallowed more words queued up to let the Queen know that Jaime was very easy to run into. She was trying to pretend she was unaffected and unimpacted by the golden Kingsguard after all, when really the knot in her stomach said otherwise.
It then also occurred to her—as she stared into the face of someone seeming to try to uncover her secrets—that perhaps she ought to be more concerned about anyone—not just her father—learning of the way they spoke when together. Especially when they felt like secrets in the first place. The fact that she wanted to keep it to herself, hidden, in the first place should've been warning enough perhaps.
And then, at the absolute worst time, she had unbidden images flood her mind of that encounter in the Winterfell hallway, alone, close, touching-but-not. She blushed a deep red because that was definitely something she wanted to keep close, shared with only her most trusted. And until now, staring at the Queen who seemed to know more than she was saying, it also hadn't occurred to her that Jaime Lannister did not have to keep anything to himself if he didn't want to.
Every time she saw him, she felt an internal conflict brewing; she both did and didn't want to see him again; she felt both pulled to him and pushed away, and that in itself left her intrigued enough to want more. Enough for her to stay quiet for a bit longer each time. For some reason, she had assumed he felt the same way, but thinking on it now, why would he? She had heard her brothers and Theon speak about women; the boastful stories that she was sure would mortify the woman in question.
She should've known better. Jaime Lannister is a man just the same as all of them. She breathed in deep and slow through her nose, trying to reassure herself. She hadn't been the one speaking with too much familiarity towards someone she shouldn't be familiar with at all... but then, she wasn't completely without sense—when was the woman ever not blamed for the deeds of a man?
The problem was that Sybel had allowed it.
She felt her chest clench too tight. Surely if the Queen suspected that Sybel had not been upholding her good manners then she wouldn't be welcoming her in for tea. Not that you were really welcome, a little voice inside her head reminded. But a young woman suspected of being too-familiar with a man not her husband would never be invited to anything other than scorn and ridicule. It was the warning every young girl had when they entered into womanhood—the warning of shame and disdain.
Finally, the Queen spoke. "That's not what my little birds tell me."
Little birds?
Sybel spiraled out in panic inside her head as she sat under the Queen's focused stare, feeling everything slip into stark perspective. If anyone overheard or saw that interaction—or possibly any interaction, really, now that she thought about it and had emblazing panic to guide her judgement—with Jaime, she could see how things might be interpreted from other's perspectives. How it would be her reputation as a proper noblewoman in question. She could see how she could be easily outcast by other highborn women when rumours were their currency of trade. She could see how highborn men might get the wrong idea of her when she allowed him too many familiarities.
Had she really been so without thought?
She heard her Septa in her head emphasizing the importance of how she behaved in the South, how she walked and talked and looked. And all of a sudden she saw the seriousness of it; felt it catch up to her and she realized just how much she was dancing with her future every time she'd spoken with him lately. Realised just how much her Septa wasn't really talking about her physical appearance alone. She didn't even want to think of the consequences if someone had seen them in the corridor, standing close enough to be in an embrace.
Her throat felt tight, mouth slow to explain further, like she was waiting for her brain to catch up. When it didn't, she could only ramble out, "Your brother is most chivalrous, your grace, he has only… expressed concern on my safety on the few times I have spoken to him."
That seemed like the wrong answer, because the Queen stood abruptly like she was signaling the end of their tea. Sybel stood too, feeling so lightheaded at the quick movement that she nearly missed the way the Queen's smile dropped for just a second. It was replaced just as quickly again, but Sybel felt even more unsteady at the calculating look that was there when the smile wasn't.
"He is sweet, my dear brother." The Queen pulled Sybel's hands into her own and gripped tight, giving her a knowing look as she guided them towards the door of the Wheelhouse. Clearly, the Queen was done with her now. She had served her purpose. "Don't be foolish enough to mistake it as a reason to lift your skirts."
Her eyes widened as she struggled to find enough air in her body to get words out. The Queen stared at her, holding tight before patting her hands in a simpering laugh, smiles all honeyed kindness again, "Oh the naiveté of youth. Have a lovely afternoon, my sweet."
She let Sybel's hands go. She heard the dismissal. But it took a minute for her to be able to move, let alone whisper out a hoarse. "And you, your grace. Thank you for the tea, you honour me with your time."
The Queen waved her off and she stumbled out of the Wheelhouse, pushing the door closed behind her and taking a moment to calm her racing heart. When she tried moving forward, she just about fell down the couple steps, not able to find purchase to stop herself, and her stomach lurched, the world tilting far too easily.
She would've planted face-first into the ground had it not been for the strong arms grabbing her and easily settling her back onto the ground. She looked up at unfamiliar, handsome dark eyes and a thick beard cut close to a clean, personable face. The side of his mouth was quirked in a half-smile but his voice was nothing but polite worry. "Are you alright, my lady?"
Sybel found it hard to catch her breath and she shook her head, the world around her shifting about and making her stomach threaten to empty its contents. "I'm sorry, I think I need to sit."
Sybel wasn't really able to focus on anything other than breathing deeply, keeping her eyes closed against the blurring world, and getting far away from the Queen and her wheelhouse. The kind man guided her slowly away from the Wheelhouse, towards a large log left around a fire from the previous night, and when he gestured her to sit, she shook her head and went to walk further away again, putting in the distance, until another dead campfire and misshapen log chairs met her. She sat, and slowly felt her heart slow just enough for the world to feel like it had righted itself again.
There was something about the Queen that made Sybel distinctly uncomfortable, made her feel like nothing would be safe with her. Made her work herself up questioning and second guessing and panicking.
She remembered she was not alone then. She looked up, her eyes sweeping over the stag coat of arms on his robes, the youth in his face, and her eyebrows rose in surprise, "I thank you… Lord Renly?"
She tested it out, though she was certain. He was clearly highborn in his luxurious robes and with the Stag emblem she could guess it had to be one of the King's brothers. His youth gave it away, really, and if she squinted and pictured the King younger and fitter, she could almost see him in Renly. He was handsome.
His half grin became a full one. "I see I am at a disadvantage. I am ashamed to say I am unfamiliar with someone as lovely as yourself."
He was so very charming, and she stood slowly to introduce herself, the world only a little wobbly at the movement now that she had a bit more space between her and the Queen. But before she could answer, another tall and broad figure joined them and the all-too-familiar voice cut in as her eyes found his smirk, "I think you're making it a habit of requiring saving, Lady Stark."
His appearance caused a slight panic to rise again with the Wheelhouse still in sight, like the Queen would step out and catch them. There was something about the way the Queen had questioned her that made her think that any interaction with Jaime would be considered wrong in her eyes. And the last thing she wanted to do was upset the Queen. "I'm lucky Lord Renly was there otherwise I'm sure I would be covered in dirt and sporting some scrapes and bruises."
He looked like he was expecting a retort but her worry over her being thought of as too familiar, too friendly, too allowing, with him pushed her to safe and detached politeness. It was protection; the barrier between her own thoughts and others, and she'd never felt more like she needed it than coming away from tea with the Queen. Never before in her life had she felt the need to guard herself—it felt strange and uncomfortable to her.
"Well, it was a pleasure to save Lord Stark's eldest and most lovely daughter from dirt, scrapes and bruises." Renly's eyes were lit with recognition and his hand that was still holding her steady slid down her arm as he bent forward in a bow. He kissed the back of her hand in a sweeping gesture. "It is a delight to meet you, Lady Sybel."
She thought she really ought to be more wooed by his frivolous show—Sansa would—but Sybel was finding it hard to shift her eyes away from the green burning gaze locked on hers. He looked vaguely irritated by all the agreeable niceties coming out of their mouths and she felt her frustration grow, fueled by her earlier panic and the wine to be directed solely at him. How dare he be annoyed by her hiding behind her only shield—especially when he was the reason she suddenly felt she needed it. He was undoubtedly the reason she had just been subjected to that uncomfortable meeting with the Queen.
Everything felt suddenly hot. She'd drunk far too much to be able to navigate Jaime Lannister today, and while the world felt steadier than a moment ago, his gaze made the inside of her head feel dizzy and spinning. She forced her gaze away from him and she quickly took stock again of the bowing man.
She tried to quickly drop into a returning curtsey that was only just noticeably too delayed, "And you, Lord Renly, though I believe you to be misinformed. I am the eldest, but it is my younger sister Sansa who is the loveliest."
Renly smiled at her even as it was his eyes she felt all over her—and she wished he would just stop so she could think—enough that she politely retracted her arm from Renly's hand. "I have met the Lady Sansa not long ago."
Sybel nodded despite it feeling like he had left something else unsaid and that she was supposed to gather his meaning. Her eyes darted to Jaime though she didn't know why; he wasn't one to help her by making things make sense. Jaime snorted. "You'll have to be clearer than that with Lady Sybel, Renly. She has a number of admirers that she is studiously oblivious to despite them being plain to see by anyone with eyes."
The heat from his eyes and the fuzziness in her head, and the frustration he provoked won just enough for her to blurt out unthinkingly, "I don't care for your tone today, Ser Jaime."
She really didn't need this right now; didn't need him trying to provoke her into dropping her shield when she was doing her best to try to keep it up until she could get far enough away from his eyes to be able to think.
He looked like he wanted to laugh, taking in the furrow and flushed state of her face. His smirk only widened. His mouth didn't seem capable of doing anything other than smirk and spew forth insults. "You don't like my tone."
Her words caught up with her brain and she blushed as she realised there was too much there in her tone, that made it sound like they knew each other when they should just be strangers—strangers would be safest for her. But it was her nature not to censor her thoughts so much. "Yes. You make me sound obtuse."
"Only in this." He sounded uncharacteristically serious in his reply, but Sybel thought maybe she just hadn't listened hard enough for the snarkiness.
She felt her heart thrumming in her chest and she took a breath to settle it, trying not to get caught up in it. He was so very good at causing her confusion and frustration, sometimes without her realising it, or even when she was actively on watch for it. He made it harder than anyone else to carefully consider her words and she was thought he must be fully aware of the dizzying effect he could have and was using it to his full advantage.
Renly looked between them, following their back-and-forth with interest, and eyeing Sybel warmly. It seemed that Jaime hadn't finished having her attention solely on him, because he quickly said, "How much have you had to drink this morning, Lady Stark? Does your father know?"
From his eyes and Renly's laughing smile, she could quickly deduce that they had noticed the smell of wine on her, and maybe as well, at times, her just slightly too-loose words. It felt to Sybel like he was trying to embarrass her in front of Renly, trying to highlight her immaturity or youth, like he wanted Renly to think that she was so much of a child that she needed her father's permission to do anything.
She almost felt the need to prove him wrong, though he hadn't really said anything that was wrong. But she took a deep breath in to bring her up to her full height—which, unfortunately, was still much smaller than either of the two men she stood with—and crossed her arms below her chest in a way that emphasised her chest and the curve of her waist, and how she really wasn't so much of a child anymore—whether she would admit it was deliberate or not. "Her grace the Queen, your sister, invited me to her wheelhouse for tea. There wasn't much tea."
Renly nodded in understanding and glanced to Jaime, "Your sister does love her wine."
Jaime looked confused. Genuinely confused and maybe a little bit suspicious. "Why did she invite you to tea?"
Sybel looked at him like she couldn't believe how comfortably he insulted her, again, in such a short span of time. She didn't know why she couldn't believe it though, considering this was not uncharacteristic of him.
"What can you mean, Ser Jaime!" Renly laughed jovially and clapped Jaime on the back. "The Lady Stark is clearly a delight!"
"That is very kind of you, Lord Renly. I do not think I am such awful company as he would suggest." Her words were pointed, but her smile was kind as she focused on Renly. It was easier to focus on him rather than Jaime. He laughed and winked like he was on her side. Sybel knew he was playful and jesting, but it felt nicer than mocking and teasing did, more like they could be on the same side rather than opposing, and she felt herself warm to Renly more from this than from his earlier bow and charming introduction. She pointedly continued to ignore Jaime and in focusing on Renly. "I didn't realize you would be joining us on our journey, my lord."
"Only this last half, as an escort back to Kingslanding. I was on my way to announce myself to the Queen as it seems my brother is nowhere to be found." He sighed like he was used to being inconvenienced by his brother.
"They're on a hunt," Jaime supplied, tone irritated. This made Sybel smile, though perhaps she should've tried harder to hide it.
"Then the Queen it is," Renly nodded easily.
"I won't detain you any longer," Sybel smiled sweetly, trying to continue ignoring the way Jaime unrelentingly watched her. "But we are lucky for your company, I'm sure."
He bowed at her again, just as sweeping and low as before. She smiled and curtsied back, and as he turned towards the Wheelhouse, Sybel felt a strong need to get far enough away that she wouldn't be seen when the Queen emerged.
She hadn't gotten as far away as she would've liked before Jaime caught up to her and said, "Wait."
His voice wasn't loud but nor was it quiet enough for her to be able to pretend she didn't hear him. Her earlier panic resurfaced at the idea of conversing alone with Jaime Lannister—and within eye sight of the Wheelhouse. So Sybel continued walking at as fast a pace she could muster that would not seem too obvious to anyone she might pass. "I should like to return to my chambers now if you don't mind, Ser Jaime."
A cool breeze kicked up and it seemed to help her feel more and more sober the longer it traced over her face and neck. He caught her arm and she glanced over his shoulder, feeling comforted by the fact that she couldn't see the Wheelhouse entry behind his broad frame, and so maybe she too couldn't be seen by the Queen or whatever little birds she had. "I do mind, actually. Should you be just walking around in your current state?"
"You mean, without my father's permission?" She couldn't stop her retort flying out her mouth and she pulled her arm out of his grip, ignoring the lingering warmth that had seeped through her sleeve to her skin. She eyed him, and the defensive stance of his folded arms and tight jaw. "Your care for my state is most chivalrous."
He didn't respond and Sybel turned on her heel to continue on her way. He walked along silently beside her, and to anyone else it would appear as though he were acting as an escort. She tried her best to pretend he wasn't there and keep an appropriate distance between them.
They neared the inn when he finally spoke. "Why is my sister so interested in you?"
Sybel raised an accusing eyebrow, keeping her distance from him still. "All I know is that she wanted to ask me about you, so you tell me? Why would she want to ask me about you, ser?"
He came to a stop and Sybel mirrored him, turning to look at him. He was frowning, hand gripping the pommel of his sword at his side. It appeared to Sybel that he looked as confused as she felt. He didn't respond, but he didn't get a chance to. There was suddenly a loud commotion, some yelling, heading towards the Wheelhouse and it was a convenient exit point for Sybel. Jaime turned in the direction of the noises, taking a step in that direction, and Sybel slipped away as quickly and as quietly as she could.
