Chapter Three
The next morning, Lyarra received a summons to Lady Stark's rooms after breakfast. She didn't look forward to conversing with the older woman, especially with her mental facilities diminished from the lack of sleep last night. With the exception of dinner, she had spent the entirety of her time in the library, attempting to read up on her soul mate's House and family lands. Then she spent the night shifting restlessly on her bed, tormented by thoughts of callous lion knights and dead dragon babes.
Did she even want to join a family whose claims to fame include dragging a six-year-old from out under her father's bed and stabbing her half-a-hundred times?
Well, no, she didn't want to join another family at all. She wanted to flee to Dorne and apprentice to a bookbinder or become a healer. Marriage was not entirely exclusive to such ambitions but she doubted Jaime Lannister would tolerate a wife with a profession.
'Maybe persuading me from such ideas is Lady Catelyn's purpose today.' Lyarra raised a fist to rap sharply on the door. She wasn't going to pretend to be any happier to be here than Lady Catelyn would be to have her. She questioned her premise when the door was swung open to reveal a table laden with hot tea and biscuits.
"Lady Stark," the Snow child bowed her head slightly and took the seat offered by a negligent wave of her stepmother's hand.
Catelyn Stark regarded her with distasteful resignation but that wasn't uncommon for Lyarra. Her entire existence as a baseborn child that Ned Stark refused to send away or foster elsewhere was an inconvenient truth for the man's wife. Though it was uncommon for the analytical manner by which those Tully blue eyes studied her before Lady Stark grimaced.
"You will be attending lessons with me every morning from breakfast to the midday meal."
The dark-haired girl recoiled. 'Lessons? With Lady Catelyn?!'
"I understand that you may not care to spend any more time with me than demanded by propriety. I assure you that this feeling is mutual," Lady Catelyn said, anticipating her rejection. "However, you lack the skills, polish, and understanding expected of a nobleman's wife. This isn't necessarily your fault. No one expected you to make such an advantageous marriage. A second or third son, a hedge knight or even a common man of high station were all that was expected of you."
'Because you are a bastard and no self-respecting man should desire a woman born of sin. Because this marriage should have belonged to Sansa or even Arya, the trueborn daughters of Lord Stark.' Lyarra smiled tightly at all of the words her stepmother didn't say.
"Then you expect to educate me to House Lannister's standards before Lord Lannister arrives."
"Don't be foolish. A few fortnights will not correct fifteen years of fighting, studying, and acting like a man. I regret ever allowing you to attend Robb's lessons."
"You've never allowed me to do anything. You've never cared to involve yourself in my affairs."
Catelyn placed her cup down and raised an eyebrow. "I never said a word when you wore Greyjoy's clothing, snuck out of the castle, and plied your medicines in Wintertown. Is that not an allowance?"
The next bite of strawberry tart went down the wrong way. Lyarra coughed forcibly to clear her throat and then took a deep swill of tea. The piping hot liquid scalded her throat. "You knew?"
"Of course I knew. Did you think you could sneak around my home and have it escape my eyes?"
"Then why didn't you say anything?" She was utterly bemused. Wouldn't Lady Catelyn want to suppress any endeavors that could bring shame to House Stark?
"You were hoarding gold to leave Winterfell. Why would I do anything to hinder those efforts?" Her stepmother's lips quirked upwards in a faint smile. "Our lessons will teach you to maintain your composure. It is of the utmost importance that you learn to comport yourself as soon as possible."
The dark-haired girl leaned back and tried to recollect her thoughts. "I've never-"
"This isn't a choice," Lady Catelyn broke in, tone becoming colder. "For a reason beyond my understanding, the Seven chose to bind you to Ser Jaime Lannister. A marriage in your future is inevitable and even should you despise your husband until the day you die, I will not have you stain your father's honor by making a fool of yourself."
'I was born a stain on my father's honor,' Lyarra wanted to say. Instead she stiffly nodded and stood up. "I shall see you tomorrow then Lady Stark."
She tried to pass by the woman when a hand at her wrist caught her. Lyarra looked down to see Tully blue eyes, the exact same shade as all of her siblings save Arya, look directly at her. They held the same determination nominally present in Robb or Bran underscored with an emotion Lady Stark rarely had for her: compassion.
"Do not misunderstand me child," Catelyn said softly. "You enter a noble family as a bastard to wed one of their most prominent sons. They will find you wanting no matter how you present yourself. The Westerlands hold no friends for you. Not even your husband can be relied upon to protect you. My advice for you is to keep your own counsel, reject gifts freely given and come down with child soon."
Lyarra's eyes widened. She knew the duties expected of a wife and perhaps her marriage was moving years ahead of when she expected but children?
"A child will cement your place by your husband's side. It will give you bargaining power in your good-father's home and added protection from the other lions," Catelyn explained briskly. "Perhaps more importantly, it will give you someone whom you can love freely. Women who cannot find happiness in their husband or marriage bed do so in their children."
"I- I see," Lyarra swallowed thickly. "Please excuse me. I need… to have a walk."
She was almost to the door when her stepmother's voice stopped her again. It was with great trepidation that Lyarra turned to her, fearing the next advice to come from her lips.
"Lyarra," Lady Catelyn appeared conflicted for a moment, "I have no great affection for you, that is true. But rest assured that I will do all in my power to prepare you for this. Regardless of my feelings, I will not allow a daughter of Ned's to step into the lion's den unarmed."
x
Tyrion Lannister was in excellent spirits at the moment. While fully nude in a tub of freezing water, he was accompanied by a half dozen books on engaging topics, three bottles worth of Arbour Gold, and a giant bowl of lemon shaved ice. Adding to his pleasure was the knowledge that his father wasn't presently home and that Cersei must be steaming at King's Landing now that Jaime had, for some reason, been recalled home. The Imp was interested in the reason why and planned to pry the truth from his brother eventually but he was too content now to bother.
Trust his family to ruin even this little oasis of peace that he had carved out.
Though as the wooden door clanged against the stone wall and Jaime staggered in with unsteady footsteps, ignoring his entirely manly screech of surprise, Tyrion supposed that his brother needed it.
"By the gods, don't you have the decency to knock?!" Tyrion swiftly closed his legs together and covered his chest with his arms. Yes, he spent most of his free time cavorting with whores but Jaime was not an attractive, naked woman! "Are you drunk?"
"Not nearly enough," his golden brother, both literally and figuratively, informed him. Jaime swiped one of the unopened bottles of wine and brought it up to his lips. "Cersei's going to kill me."
"Welcome to the club," the dwarf sniped back, glowering at the loss of alcohol. "What did you do to earn our darling sister's ire?"
Jaime plopped down on the floor, used his sleeve to wipe off the wine droplets clinging to his mouth, and then bared his wrist. The Imp spent a full ten seconds blinking dumbly at the violet-eyed white wolf. "Did you draw this? Is this a jape? Don't pain me by lying brother."
"I'm to marry Ned Stark's bastard," Jaime hiccuped. "Child. Bastard child. I'm going to marry a child."
The weight of his words hit Tyrion all at once and suddenly he was grinning so widely that his molars began to hurt. By the Gods, Cersei was going to be furious. This news alone was worth all of the wine in Casterly Rock. It was even better than his last ten namedays put together!
"You have my most heartfelt congratulations. Is she pretty?"
"I don't know. I've never met her. I don't even know her name." The Kingslayer put his face in his hands. "Cersei will be so angry."
"I know! I love my new good sister already!" Tyrion declared. "We must share this good news with the King and Queen, brother. Why, I'll volunteer to deliver the news myself!"
The Kingslayer paled. "You can't tell Cersei."
"She'll find it out sooner or later. I'm certain it will become evident to her the next time you two choose to cuckold the most powerful man in Westeros."
"I can't," Jaime said despairingly. "I'm bonded so I can never again lay with another woman."
"Cersei will lose her favorite bed warmer too? Oh, this gets better and better with every word out of your mouth, Jaime!"
He was too lost in his gleeful daydreams to notice the way Jaime's head shot up. His bloodshot emerald eyes were now pinning him in his place. "Her favorite bed warmer?"
Tyrion's sudden desire to dance around the room, clapping his hands like a child, died. Well, no, the desire was still present but it was coupled with the rising knowledge of having shared information that he really should have kept to himself. "You shouldn't have heard that."
"Her favorite bed warmer?" This was probably not the best time to remember that Jaime had earned his place on the Kingsguard by merit, that for the sneering moniker of Kingslayer, his brother remained a formidable swordsman. Tyrion slowly reached for the open bottle of wine.
"I misspoke for hatred of our sister," the Imp told him. "You remain the only man to hold her heart."
"Tyrion…" His brother's voice had gone softer and more dangerous. He did not regret his decision to throw the wine into his eyes. "Tyrion!"
"Don't harm my books, brother!" With that most valiant of battle cries, Tyrion tipped his run over and tried to run out the door. He underestimated his brother's determination though for Jaime's hands grabbed him around the waist a moment later. He struggled to drag the younger Lannister back as the dwarf struggled and screamed blue murder.
"Don't put your hands there Jaime!"
"What did you mean by favorite bed warmer?"
They continued to struggle for a few minutes longer until Tyrion noticed that the door was ajar again. His Uncle Kevan was staring at them in mute disapproval, arms crossed and servants peeking from behind his shoulder. Tyrion wondered how it looked to them to see their golden boy wrestling his nude dwarf brother into submission.
The Imp relaxed in his brother's grip. Eh, even if he was naked and humiliated right now, at least he knew that Cersei would feel even worse soon.
x
Robb consolingly patted Theon on the back while subtly pulling his half-filled tankard of ale away. He was starting to get seriously worried about the state of his friend's liver. This must have been the eighth or ninth tankard. The innkeeper was making brisk business with Greyjoy's broken heart though naturally the ward refused to refer to it that way.
"I think the brothel girls have been missing your coin lately," Robb said carefully. By the Warrior's name, he was getting desperate. "You haven't seen Ross in a sennight now."
Theon mumbled something that might have been a refusal and he sighed. "We should leave soon."
The Greyjoy made an inarticulate noise of protest and then looked intently towards the mug. Robb helpfully pushed it off the table. The glass was strong enough to bounce on the padded straw floor but that ale would be lost forever. Theon tried to order another one but the Heir to Winterfell had stolen his purse a good two drinks ago and was soon able to lead him out of the room.
'I should have tried harder to keep them apart before this,' he thought morosely. Even had Lyarra not been betrothed to another man, Theon wouldn't have had a chance with her. For all that his father treated the Greyjoy ward honorably, he hadn't forgotten that Theon would return to Pyke eventually. And Lord Stark would never have given his winter rose to the likes of the Lord Reaper's son.
Robb personally believed that it was a mere pup's crush that his friend nurtured but the knowledge that she was soon to be married had Theon think himself ripped away from his one true love by the cruel whims of the gods. Honestly his friend could be even more dramatic than Sansa at times.
"We're near to the castle now," Robb grunted, keeping one wary eye on the uneven ground, "Toral, Peter, help me bring him inside."
"How much ale's he been having, m'lord?" Toral asked wide-eyed, at the staggering boys.
"Mores than he should be 'round Lady Stark." Peter took the other arm and helped shift the weight away from Robb. He made a huff of annoyance when Theon managed to weakly punch his stomach.
"Shut it, you curs." The Greyjoy looked up and squinted in Robb's direction. "You going to see Lyaa?"
Neither wanting to encourage his friend nor lie, the red-haired teen jerked his head forward in a sort-of nod. Theon's voice got a little stronger. "You better make sure she's okay Stark."
"Don't worry about my sister, Greyjoy. I'll take care of her. Just go and get some sleep."
Despite his confident words, Robb still tarried outside of his sister's room. It was as far from his heir room as it could possibly be while still technically being part of the family quarters. It was one of those slights that he had silently sworn to correct the day he became the Lord of Winterfell.
'Now I'll never have the chance. Should she be allowed to visit after her marriage, it will be to sleep in the guest quarters with the Kingslayer.'
The idea that his younger sister was to be married in a year or less, depending on how long Lord Stark could manage to delay it, still bewildered him. She must be scared witless in there and he had been so busy with Theon that he couldn't afford a single conversation in the last sennight. Robb felt terribly guilty for that neglect while also grateful that Arya at least had fulfilled her sisterly duties.
He knocked the door, received an invitation to enter, and walked inside to a typical sight. Dressed in her customary white camisole, dark ringlets free to frame her oval-shaped face, and violet eyes pinned to a heavy scroll spread across her bedspread, Lyarra looked much the same as she always did. The light of the roaring fire and the candles in the room cast a warm glow to her pale skin and her loose-limbed lounging on the bed merely drew attention to the curves of her body.
In that view, Lyarra looked more seductive than any sister of his had the right to be. See, now this was why Robb needed to be a overprotective older brother.
"Brother, it's good to see- eck! Don't throw your clothes over the candles, idiot!"
"Put that cloak on. Maester Luwin said it may snow tonight," Robb ordered, pleased when the milk toned shoulders were covered by the fabric. His sister appeared a little disgruntled as she sat up and pushed her book away. "I wanted to talk to you."
"If it's about Sansa's blue teeth, then Arya and I are not responsible," Lyarra immediately denied. "You know how similar pecha berries are to blueberries. It wouldn't be the first time the cooks mistook the two."
"Yes, yes, I'm sure someone else is to blame. I wanted to speak to you of the soul mark."
Her smiled faded. "Must we? I've spoken to everyone about it by now. Father is planning my dowry, Lady Catelyn is educating me on Southron customs-"
"Mother is teaching you how to be a Southron lady?"
"It's not as bad as it sounds," Lyarra paused. "No, no it is. I've spent all of this morning studying the Faith of the Seven. It was awful."
"Why would you need to learn of the Seven?" Robb tried to push his way onto the bed. Lyarra clung more tightly to the bedsheets in protest. They ended up in the odd position of a contented redhead splayed sideways on the bed while a disgruntled dark-haired girl threw her legs over his stomach.
"House Lannister are followers of the Seven. Lady Catelyn said I may have to recite my vows in a Sept," Lyarra made a face. "She wanted to review my sewing too, to practice for the marriage cloak."
"You won't be married in the godswood? You're a Stark! All Starks are married in godswoods."
"I'm a Snow who's about to become a Lannister," she reminded him bitterly. "At least I get a proper surname at last."
Robb didn't know what to say to that. Instead he pulled himself up and maneuvered her boneless form until she was resting against his chest and they were both staring out the window across the room. The whistling flurries of the promised snowstorm were dancing around against the dark starry skies.
"Mayhaps the Kingsl- Lannister will allow you another ceremony in the godswood."
She looked up, violet eyes drooping from tiredness. "Why don't you call him the Kingslayer?"
"He's to be my good brother. The least I can do is stop using such an insulting title for him."
Lyarra quietly hummed in the back of her throat. If he strained his ears, he could hear the beginning bars of a Northern lullaby Old Nan had sung to them as children. "Father doesn't like him."
"Lord Tywin or Ser Jaime?" Robb used one hand to brush through her curls. They had both inherited them from their respective mothers since the Stark hair was normally thin and straight.
"Both." Lyarra's eyelids fluttered down. It made him smile to remember that such an old trick still put her to sleep. Even if she was soon to be a married woman, and a lion at that, she was still his little sister. "I'm to marry a man that Father doesn't trust or like."
"Father spent his entire childhood in the Vale, then he was at war, and finally, the last decade and a half in Winterfell," Robb stated. "Jaime Lannister grew up in Casterly Rock and then spent most of his adult life in King's Landing. They know each other by reputation but those can be misleading."
"All rumors have a kernel of truth in them," Lyarra stated, voice tired and words slow.
Robb shifted her off of him and onto the bed. He carefully maneuvered her head over the pillow. "Then let the kernel be that he is a skilled and handsome knight that rid the world of a madman, for I refuse to believe that the gods will bind my sister to a monster."
Lyarra smiled and closed her eyes. "I'll miss you Robb."
He leaned down and placed a kiss to her brow. "Sleep without fear little sister. If your lion knight does not treat you well then you can send a raven knowing that your big brother will ride down to save you."
x