The Mother

Following the attack, Catelyn had become a new woman. No longer would she wallow over her son's limp body, not when there were enemies in the very keep her and Bran were staying in. Her boy had never fallen before, had never even slipped! He was sure-footed and steady. Somebody must have pushed him, and Catelyn was going to find out who if it was the last thing she did.

She was standing in the courtyard, in the area where Bran's broken body had been found. Catelyn choked on a sob at the mere sight of the ground, remembering the fear and sheer melancholy she had felt upon finding her son – her precious boy – lying on the ground. She pushed back her feelings and forced herself to focus.

"Excuse me," she said to a passing servant.

"Lady Stark," the servant inclined his head in respect.

"I was just wondering... would you mind telling me who occupies the rooms on this side of the castle?" Catelyn asked the servant politely, pointing to the area of the keep that overlooked the sight of Bran's fall. The servant looked unsure. "Oh, forgive me. I was only wondering who was lucky enough to have such a fine view of the courtyard."

"Very well, my lady," he replied, nodding his head in submission. He pointed to the area she had indicated. "The first floor is the kitchen, the next two floors are the servant's quarters, the fourth the library, the fifth is just empty space that is rumoured to be a hidden passageway."

"And the sixth and seventh?" Catelyn pressed, knowing that if her son was pushed while climbing, given the damage done to his body he must have fallen from quite a height.

The servant narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Years ago they were Queen Cersei's bedchamber. I think she stayed in them again with her husband and children during her stay in Casterly Rock. They are fine chambers. They overlook the sea on one side, and the courtyard on the other."

"Thank you very much," Catelyn said gratefully, though her attention was not on the servant. She stared up at top floor, at the window where her son was most likely pushed out of. Why? Why would she do it? The queen had given Catelyn her condolences and had told Catelyn of the death of her eldest child as a babe. She seemed so... genuine. There are liars. These southerners don't even know how to speak truthfully. The sooner she returned to Winterfell, the better.

Catelyn didn't give the servant a chance to reply and rushed up the stairs. The chambers that were once occupied by Cersei were now vacant, even though they were too extravagant in Catelyn's opinion to be left unoccupied. What a waste. She bent down on the floor and picked up a long strand of golden hair, stretching it out to get a better look. Yes. Definitely the queen's. Catelyn looked up, only a few feet away was the window. Catelyn walked towards the window, feeling herself tear up. This was where her boy met his fate. Where he was pushed. Catelyn's heart broke. They will pay for this! If it's the last thing I do, the Lannisters will pay!

No doubt Queen Cersei sent the assassin to finish the job. But why, why would the queen want to kill her son? Catelyn looked around the room for clues. She didn't know what she was hoping to find, but she looked anyway. She was sorely disappointed. Catelyn decided that there was nothing else she could do but guard Bran's body day and night until he woke up. When he woke, Catelyn would flee Casterly

"Lyarra. Lyarra, wake up!" She felt herself being shaken awake and woke with a start. She saw her mother bending over her bed, her face close to hers. Lyarra rubbed her eyes and looked at Catelyn groggily, too shocked to form a question. "Come with me. We must speak."

"What, what is it?" she mumbled, struggling to climb out of bed.

Her mother shushed her. "You mustn't wake Ser Jaime. Come quietly."

Lyarra glanced over her shoulder at her husband's sleeping form. He was fast asleep. Exhaling with relief, Lyarra stood and put on her slippers before following her mother out of the room. She was waddling, really. Jaime had been tireless when he came back from the tiltyard. They must have spent hours passionately fucking. Just thinking about how he took her made Lyarra blush. She shook her head, reminding herself that her mother obviously wanted to speak to her of something important. She suddenly felt bile rise up her throat, her stomach churning, but forced it back down her throat. Whatever her mother wanted to tell her, it was urgent. Lyarra didn't have time to vomit.

Her mother led her to Bran's room, speaking in a hushed tone as though the walls themselves had ears. "Bran has woken." Her face brightened with a smile. Lyarra found herself grinning wildly, her insides bursting with joy. "He is well, Lyarra, though I fear that he cannot feel his legs."

"Oh, Mother, that's great news!" Lyarra cried happily. Her mother shushed her, so Lyarra said in a much quieter tone. "That's great news. Have you sent for the maester?"

"No, I cannot. There are important things we must discuss, Lyarra, about House Lannister. They cannot be trusted," Catelyn explained. She opened the door to Bran's room and allowed Lyarra to rush inside. There sat her brother, propped up in his bed with his direwolf sprawled over his lap.

"I've named him Summer," Bran told her, stroking his direwolf's fur.

Lyarra could not contain herself any longer. Filled with joy and relief, she ran to him. "Oh, Bran!" she exclaimed as she threw herself on top of him in a tight embrace. Bran did not respond, his body was still. Hot tears fell down her cheeks.

"I can't feel my legs, Lya," Bran replied weakly, choking on tears. Lyarra pulled away from him and sat by his bedside, taking his hand in hers. "I'm a cripple. I'll never walk again."

"But you're alive," Lyarra reminded him. It was a weak argument to Bran, but to Lyarra it meant everything.

"I'd rather be dead," Bran spat, a dark look on his face as he turned away from her, staring out the window.

Her mother gasped from behind Lyarra and was quick to chastise him. "Bran, you mustn't say such things. The gods had given you life. You were... I thought..." Catelyn sobbed and turned away from them, trying to gather herself before she said anymore.

Ashamed, Bran stared at his hand and Lyarra's. "I didn't mean to make Mother upset."

"I know you didn't," Lyarra assured him. She ran her fingers through his hair as a means to console him and gave him a kind smile. "But Mother is right, you know. We were all so worried, Bran. That you would..." she trailed off and gulped, choosing not to finish the sentence. "That doesn't matter now. You're alive. You may be crippled, but you're alive. Life is full of possibilities, even if you can't use your legs."

"I'll never be a knight," he lamented, tears gathering in his eyes. "I'll never ride a horse again, or shoot an arrow. I'll never climb again! What's the point of living if I can do so little?"

"Oh, Bran." Lyarra's voice cracked. I mustn't cry. I must be strong for Bran and Mother. Father had often called her softness both a gift and a curse. Lyarra could never contain her feelings. She squeezed Bran's hand. "You can still read and learn. You always liked learning about history. You can still do that."

"I suppose..." Bran allowed. He opened his mouth to say something else, but hesitated before closing it. Their mother took the opportunity to speak again.

"Bran and I are leaving tonight, before the castle wakes," Catelyn informed her.

She spun around to face her mother. "What?"

"It's not safe for him here," Catelyn went on. She took a seat on the chair at the end of Bran's bed. "I have reason to believe that the Lannisters were behind his fall. That would mean that they also sent the assassin to finish the job."

"What? That's absurd! Why would they do that?" Lyarra exclaimed, staring at her lady mother with wide, frightened eyes.

"I don't know. I don't know why the Lannisters would want to kill an innocent boy, and Bran remembers nothing," Catelyn gave her son a pitiful look before turning back to Lyarra, determination etched on her face. "But I spoke with a servant today. Bran was found in the courtyard, near the east wing of the castle. Cersei Lannister's room overlooks the courtyard. Her rooms were on the sixth and seventh floors."

Silently, Lyarra mulled over what her mother had said. "It could have been her servants."

"Perhaps," her mother allowed, "but where the queen slept was on the very highest floor. And the position of her window aligns perfectly with the sight of Bran's fall. Only a few feet away from the window, I found a strand of long golden hair. Who else's could it be but the queen's?" Catelyn paused. "Every piece of evidence points to the queen being involved. The only questions are why did she do it and whether anyone else was involved. Perhaps Bran saw something he shouldn't have."

"Like what?" Lyarra prompted. It was all sounding very possible to Lyarra now. She was becoming scared. This is the family I have married into. This is my family now. She would have to live among the Lannisters. Lyarra hoped that it was the queen alone who harmed Bran.

"The king and queen's marriage is a loveless one. The king humiliates her by bedding every willing woman he possibly can. It would not be unreasonable to think that Cersei might... look to other men to satisfy her needs," her mother explained. "As well as get some sort of vengeance against the king. Cersei is a prideful creature. Even a hidden, secret slight would give her some sort of unspoken victory."

"What are you going to do?" Lyarra asked, feeling angry now. That wretched woman made her brother a cripple! "You cannot let her get away with it!"

"She is the queen. I can do very little," Catelyn admitted. "But we cannot stay here, in her place of birth. The Lannisters are loyal to her, of course. Bran is not safe here."

"But I cannot leave. I am married to Ser Jaime," she reminded her mother.

Catelyn responded with a sorry smile. "You will not be coming with us, Lyarra. Your place is here, with your husband. You bear the Lannister name now. They will not harm you."

Her vision suddenly became blurred with tears. She blinked them away, only for more to rush to her eyes. "So you're leaving me?"

"Yes. I fear I must," Catelyn told her. "You are bound by duty – and by the gods themselves – to stay in this keep with Ser Jaime. If I could, I would gladly let you come with us. But doing so would only cause further strife between Houses Stark and Lannister, and we cannot afford that."

She had lost Robb and Rickon, and Father and the girls, in the space of two weeks. Lyarra felt her heart breaking. Her cheeks were wet. She wiped her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. "He's only just woke up, and you would take him from me again?"

"I must, Lyarra. Don't you see?" Catelyn gave her son a sorry look. He too looked reluctant to leave Lyarra. "He is not safe here."

"I understand," Lyarra said. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

She bid goodbye to them in the stables. Bran had been stuffed into a wheelbarrow which would be pushed by the remaining Stark guardsmen. She kissed her brother on the forehead, and then twice on both his cheeks. "Goodbye, Bran." She almost started crying again. Gods, she had shed so many tears in the last two weeks that she wondered if there was any water left inside her.

"Goodbye, Lya," Bran replied, sobbing. "Promise me you'll come to Winterfell to see me. Please."

"As soon as I can," she promised and squeezed his hand reassuringly. She gave the guard a nod, giving him permission to start wheeling the wheelbarrow. She turned to her mother. "I trust you have a plan?"

"I'm going to bring Bran to Riverrun. I'm sure my uncle will be willing to take him to Winterfell from there. I must go to King's Landing to show an old friend of mine this," Catelyn showed her the Valyrian steel dagger. "Petyr Baelish will know who it belongs to."

"And then what?" Lyarra pressed.

"I don't know," Catelyn admitted, shrugging. She gave her daughter a sad smile. "War, perhaps."

"So we are to be on opposite sides." Lyarra suddenly felt like a child again, desperate for her mother. She felt the urge to clutch onto her mother's skirts and never let go. "I'm afraid, Mother."

"Oh, my dear child." Catelyn wrapped her arms around Lyarra and kissed her cheek. Lyarra leaned into her mother's touch and held onto her for dear life. "You're a strong girl. You'll get through this. When this is all over, we'll see each other again. That's a promise, sweetling."

Lyarra laughed humourlessly. "Another promise. I have made and been given so many empty promises in the last few weeks. Don't promise me anything, Mother. I can't bear anymore disappointments."

"Very well," Catelyn agreed, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind Lyarra's ear. "I hope that when this is all over, we'll see each other again. I wish you all the happiness in the world, my love."

"Goodbye, Mother." Why were goodbyes so difficult? Lyarra swallowed again. She would not cry again, she promised herself. But as soon as she saw her mother start to cry, Lyarra started crying as well. She almost had to tear herself away from her mother's embrace. She watched the Stark guards and her mother and brother leave Casterly Rock, clad in only her robe and slippers, and allowed herself to cry.

She managed to sneak into her bedroom without waking Jaime. Her husband wasn't usually a heavy sleeper, but Lyarra accidentally dropped a vase on the floor in her rush to get to the chamber pot and empty the rest of her dinner from the night before, yet Jaime was still asleep when she checked him. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, only to be woken two hours later by the shouts of her lord husband.

"LYARRA!" she heard him yell. Lyarra woke with a start, the memories of what had occurred the night before flooding back to her. Her mother and Bran... gone. But Bran was alive, that much she could be glad of. Jaime stormed towards the bed, an expression of anger on his face as he glowered at her. "Where are they?"

Feigning confusion, Lyarra asked him tiredly as she climbed out of bed. "Where are who?"

"Don't play stupid with me, Lyarra. It doesn't suit you," Jaime chastised sharply, towering over her as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Your mother and Bran. Where are they?"

"What? What happened to them?" Lyarra lied, seeming more and more panicked. She had never been a good liar, but for the sake of her mother and brother, she would have to be.

Jaime didn't seem to believe her. "Come now, Lyarra! You must know. Catelyn Stark wouldn't flee in the middle of the night without saying goodbye to you!" He was becoming more exasperated with her, and more worried too. He was very worried. Lyarra wondered why. Perhaps he had a hand in Bran's crippling. No. Lyarra refused to believe it. "So quit playing the fool, why did they leave?"

"I don't know!" she exclaimed. "I don't know. Stop yelling at me!" She saw guilt flash across his face, so Lyarra continued speaking, sounding more confident. "What does it matter anyway? They weren't prisoners."

"Of course not," Jaime agreed with a sigh, sitting in the chair beside the fire. Lyarra pulled her robe over her smallclothes, noticing that Jaime too was only in his smallclothes. "Your mother left in the dead of night without so much as a letter to explain herself. You see how that's worrying, don't you?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, taking in how panicked he looked again. "What harm can a woman and son and their half a dozen guards do to your family?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all," he agreed. "What is worrisome is if my lady wife knew about her mother running away during the night and chose to lie to her lord husband." He glared at her. "Did your mother say anything... strange to you in the last few days?"

"Like what, lord husband?" Lyarra mocked.

"You know what I mean," Jaime said sharply. Lyarra startled at the aggression in his voice.

"No. Nothing. She barely spoke to me when I went to visit Bran," Lyarra admitted. She spoke truthfully. Catelyn had seldom said a word to Lyarra during her visits to Bran's room, preferring to keep staring at Bran's lifeless form. Lyarra narrowed her eyes at him accusingly. "Why are you so worried?"

"I am not-"

"Speak truthfully," Lyarra interrupted him, "it is crime to lie to your lady wife." The way she said the two words made Jaime chuckle, despite his angry and worried disposition.

"I am speaking truthfully," Jaime swore. He stood up and walked towards the door that adjoined his bedroom to hers. "Get dressed. My father will no doubt want to speak with you."

"No doubt," Lyarra grumbled. Tywin Lannister would give her the same accusations that Jaime just had. She had done enough lying for one day. Without another word, Jaime disappeared inside his room. Lyarra sighed heavily and started undressing herself. She picked up one of her new southern dresses and held it out in front of her, staring at the complicated laces at the back. As though on cue, Rhea rushed into the room the very moment Lyarra began to attempt putting in on.

"Lord Tywin wishes to see you, my lady," Rhea told her. Lyarra groaned, expecting to be told as much. Rhea looked at Lyarra's reflection in the mirror quizzically as she finished lacing her purple southern dress. "It sounded urgent."

"Everything with that man is urgent," Lyarra complained. She had begun to feel much contempt towards the Lannisters since learning about the queen's involvement in Bran's crippling. Lyarra realised that what she just said could get her into a lot of trouble and quickly added, "Forgive me, Rhea. I am tired and grouchy."

Rhea nodded. "Understandably, my lady. I'm sorry about your mother and brother. It must be hard for you, what with them fleeing without saying so much as a farewell." Rhea was watching her reaction closely. Lyarra wondered, not for the first time, if she was a Lannister spy.

"It is hard," Lyarra agreed. "I'm more angry than anything, but life goes on, does it not? I'm sure my mother had her reasons."

"Do you know what they might be?" Rhea inquired, pretending to seem nonchalant by focusing on tidying Lyarra's vanity.

She narrowed her eyes at her handmaiden. Your Tywin's. You've always been Tywin's. Lyarra hated herself for not realising sooner. "Not a clue. If that is all, Rhea, I should like to be alone."

"But your hair-"

"I can do it myself. I'm not an imbecile," Lyarra snapped. She regretted her harsh words as soon as they came out of her lips. I'm becoming like Jaime, inconsiderate and quick to anger. She gave her handmaiden an apologetic smile. "Thank you, Rhea."

Giving her mistress a low curtsy before leaving, Rhea looked close to tears. Lyarra groaned and buried her face in her hands. She felt herself becoming someone she sincerely was not. She had never been rude to anyone in her life. Lady Catelyn had raised her daughters to be polite and respectful, yet the south and her lord husband had made Lyarra forget her mother's teachings. Lyarra vowed to remember them.

Just as she expected, her meeting with Tywin Lannister went the same as her conversation with Jaime, except Lyarra forced herself to be a little more polite. She was only out the door when vomit rose up her throat again. She bent over and emptied the contents of her stomach to the floor as Lord Tywin's watched, disgust evident on their faces.

"Don't just stare, you fools," Lyarra heard a woman chide the guards. "Clean this mess up, or get someone else to do it." Lyarra wiped the vomit from her mouth and turned around, seeing Jaime's aunt Genna Lannister who gave her a kind smile. "Come now, Lady Lannister. You'll break your fast with me this morning."

Lyarra didn't have time to object, as Genna had linked her arm in Lyarra's and was escorting her towards the west wing of the castle. Lyarra liked the woman well enough, even if she was a Lannister. She was kind and funny, but extremely intelligent and witty as well. Lyarra couldn't wait until she reached an age where she could speak frankly and not be judged. It seemed glorious.

"How long have you been getting sick everywhere?" Genna asked bluntly.

"Two days, I think. It's only gotten bad since last night after dinner. I don't think I have any dinner left in me," Lyarra joked, but Genna did not laugh. Her face was one of concentration as she stared at Lyarra. "It's only an illness. It will pass."

"You have no idea, do you?" Lyarra looked at her blankly, confused at what she was implying. "Oh, to be young and inexperienced. I have half a mind to think you are with child. When was the last time you bled?"

She stopped in her tracks. "Since before my wedding." No, it couldn't be... she couldn't be... Lyarra had dismissed her late moonblood as a coincidence, though between her late moonblood and her frequent sickness, Lyarra had to admit that it was likely. "Oh."

"'Oh,' indeed," Genna laughed. "Come now. We'll get some food into you and then we'll visit the maester for confirmation. Do you like lemoncakes, Lyarra?"

Lemoncakes, for breakfast? These southerners truly were strange. Far be it from Lyarra to reject the customs of her new home. "I love them. Thank you, my lady."

"None of that. Call me 'Aunt Genna.'" She smiled kindly down at Lyarra. "I never thought I'd see Jaime become a father, yet I am pleasantly surprised! I suspect it's a boy. But if it's a girl... I tell you, Jaime better name it after me!" Genna chuckled to herself. Lyarra was practically frozen with fear, though her legs kept moving. "You look terrified, dear. I promise you, raising children is not as difficult as it means. We noblewomen have servants to do it for us."

Lyarra nodded meekly. She wanted to be a better mother than that. Lady Catelyn had a hand in raising her children, but the older she became the less time she had for her children, leaving Lyarra to fill in as a mother for Bran and especially Rickon. She wanted to be a good mother, an attentive mother.

After an eventful breakfast with Genna (which involved mostly her new 'aunt' ranting about the lords and ladies of the Westerlands and telling Lyarra stories about Jaime as a child), Genna brought her to Maester Creylen. The old man was kind and gentle with her, though Lyarra hated having her stomach prodded at. When he was finished, he smiled up at Lyarra and gave her a firm nod that made her stomach lurch.

"Lady Lannister is with child," Creylen stated. "Ser Jaime will be overjoyed."

Ser Jaime... Lyarra had begun to think about Ser Jaime. She was too focused on the fact that she had a person growing inside of her, a person that she would someday soon have to expel from her body. Her stomach would balloon, not to mention the countless of other changes that were going to happen to her body. Lyarra was a small woman. How was she supposed to support another life inside of her?

She lurched forward and vomited into Maester Creylen's bucket of medical supplies. Once she was finished, she looked up at him gingerly and started apologising until she started crying. She insisted on helping him wash the vials the medicine was in.

"You're a welcome change to Casterly Rock, Lady Lannister," Creylen noted as they washed the last few vials. "I've had kind mistress and clever mistresses, but very few have offered to help me clean."

Lyarra chuckled. "I wouldn't expect anyone to have to wash my vomit." She cringed, remembering when she had vomited outside Lord Tywin's solar earlier that day. "Well, not hand-wash anyway."

"Still, it's a welcome change," Creylen repeated, giving her another kind smile.

She ignored her husband for the rest of the day. Lyarra would only tell Ser Jaime when she could bear to say the words without vomiting, which wasn't going to be for a day or two, at least. The thought of having a child frightened her. It was all happening too soon! She was only just getting used to being a wife and the lady of Casterly Rock, and now she would have to be a mother as well.

But she didn't have a choice, Lyarra mused as she lay in bed that night, her hand resting on her flat stomach. The gods had saw it fit to give her a child, to make her a mother. She glanced towards Jaime's sleeping form and wondered how he'd react to the news. Would he be happy? Would he see the child in her belly as some sort of accomplishment – a child to keep his father happy for a little while? Will he be relieved that he won't have to bed me anymore? It wasn't that Lyarra enjoyed being bedded – honestly, she found their encounters quite awkward and tense – but she often wondered if Jaime saw bedding her as a duty, or if he enjoyed it.

Everyone else would be pleased, that was for sure. Lord Tywin would be delighted – perhaps the news might get a smile out of the grumpy lord. What a silly thought. Lyarra could scarcely imagine the Old Lion smiling. Will Jaime smile when I tell him? Will our child mean anything to him at all? Lyarra shook her head. What did it matter to her what Jaime thought? She didn't even know how she felt about the whole situation.

There's a little baby inside of me. Lyarra grinned, clutching the fabric of her nightdress at her stomach. The thought amazed and frightened her at the same time. For the first time, Lyarra drifted off to sleep with her hand resting on her stomach.