Clever Girls
Lady Lyarra of House Lannister,
I write to you with delight in my heart. You will be glad to learn that the traitor Lord Eddard of House Stark has met justice. Our gracious King Joffrey saw it saw that Lord Eddard pay for his crime of treason with his life. He was beheaded by the king's justice Ser Ilyn Payne while the crowds cried with joy. As I know you are most undoubtedly loyal to House Lannister and the crown, I am sure that you will find relief and gladness in this news.
Therefore it is merely in the name of formality that King Joffrey of House Baratheon has commanded you to come to King's Landing to swear fealty to him. He requires you to arrive in King's Landing within a fortnight, or have your absence taken as an admittance of treason. Failure to arrive during the time-frame the king has allowed you is an act of treason. Though I do regard you as my most beloved good-sister, the king and I cannot ignore your worrisome relation to many traitors and as a result, we must observe your actions with cautious eyes.
Finally, I should like to congratulate you on getting with child so soon into your marriage. I will congratulate you properly once you come to King's Landing.
Cersei of House Lannister, Queen Regent.
"Well?" Genna pressed as Lyarra fumbled to open the letter, fearing the worst. "What does it say?"
Quickly, Lyarra scanned through the letter, her heart thumping madly in her chest from the moment she read the very first sentence. Lyarra only barely got through the first paragraph before she felt tears rushing to her eyes, blurring her vision and making the letter unreadable. She dropped the letter onto the ground and collapsed to her knees, a cry of sheer agony escaping her lips.
Father... dead. Good gods, she could scarcely think! Her heart was breaking; her mind was shattered. The most honourable man in Westeros... beheaded for treason! Genna lowered herself onto her knees beside Lyarra and picked up the letter. She too paused after the first paragraph and looked at Lyarra with pity.
"Oh, my dear child," she sympathised as she gathered Lyarra into her arms and held her tightly. Lyarra clutched onto Genna for dear life, sobbing and wailing as though she was a child again. They could no doubt hear her cries as far away as the kitchen, but Lyarra didn't have the energy to care about such things. "What a wretched boy we are forced to call king!"
"He killed my father," Lyarra sobbed into Genna's chest. "He had his head- my father! Without a head! Oh, Genna, I can't stop- I see- the sight of him!" She struggled to form a sentence and simply gave up. Genna shushed her and held the young Lady Lannister tighter, pressing a kiss on the crown of her head.
"I know, I know," she soothed. "Let it out, Lyarra. Let it all out." And so, Lyarra did. She wailed for what must have been two hours at least. Her tears dampened Genna's dress, but the elder woman didn't seem to care.
"I never thought, when I said goodbye to him, that it would be the last time I'd ever see him," Lyarra lamented. She had stopped crying, but when she tried to speak she hiccuped. She did not have the energy yet to stand, so she sat on the floor, her back against the wall as she tried to make sense of what she had just read. "If I had only known..."
"But you couldn't have, my dear," Genna stated, placing a hand on Lyarra's knee. "Nor would your lord father have expected you to." She gave her a sorry smile and patted her knee. "There is more to the letter Cersei sent you. I regret to be so insensitive, but I fear that my dear niece has refused to allow you any time to mourn." Genna handed her the letter. Lyarra wanted nothing more than to rip the letter to shreds, but resisted the urge and read the second and third paragraphs.
"I've been summoned to King's Landing," Lyarra announced, wiping the tears from her eyes and feeling only rage."Cersei knows that I am heavy with child. My father has just been beheaded – by her son! – yet she has the gall to expect me in King's Landing within the fortnight! How could she be so cruel?"
"Hm," Genna said thoughtfully, becoming rather distant. Lyarra watched her aunt carefully. Genna shook her head slightly and focused on Lyarra again. "Cersei is as cruel as they come. Always has been. Spoilt by her father and cruel by nature, that girl was never going to turn out well. Yet she is a cruel woman who wears a crown and whose son is the king. If we had more time, I would write to Tywin and have him sort out the king and his mother. But we do not, I'm afraid. You must go."
Lyarra began to sob again, overwhelmed by news of her father's death and by how unfairly she was being treated by the queen. Genna rubbed her back soothingly. "I know I must go," Lyarra sobbed, "but I do not trust myself to act civil to Cersei and Joffrey – he killed my father! How am I to be civil to my father's murderer?"
"He might have been an enemy of House Lannister, but he was, first and foremost, your father," Genna said. "Only a cruel idiot would expect you to not grieve for him. Such is the king and my niece. You will not be offered any condolences in King's Landing. There, you must hide your grief. Do you understand?"
Though Genna's words only made her sob harder, Lyarra found herself agreeing.
The day after she received word of her father's execution, Lyarra stayed in her bedroom and sobbed. She tried to be strong. She tried to make the arrangements for her departure, knowing that she did not have long to get to King's Landing, but Lyarra did not have the energy or the interest. She cried for her father most of all. How scared he must have been, alone in the black cells, treated like some sort of criminal. Lord Eddard Stark – a criminal? Lyarra could not believe it. She would not believe it.
She cried for herself too. Fatherless, alone and unprotected. She was expecting a child, her first child, and she could not write to her mother for advice. Her father was dead, her family and her husband's family at war with each other, her husband at war with her brother! Lyarra felt bad for feeling sorry for herself, yet she could not help but think that she had every reason to be.
Her handmaiden Rhea found her curled up in her bed, bawling her eyes out. Though usually Lyarra would be embarrassed to be found in such a state, Lyarra didn't care at all. She hadn't it in her to be prideful. She didn't have the energy to care. So she stayed in her position and barely acknowledged Rhea.
Rhea stood at the foot of her bed, eyes cast downwards awkwardly. "My lady... I was sorry to hear... about your father. I often heard that he was a good man – honourable."
"Yet he was murdered for treason." Lyarra sobbed and managed to scoff. "The world treats honourable men abominably."
"I suppose it does," her handmaiden agreed. Lyarra buried her face in her pillow and allowed her cries to fill up the room again. "It does pain me to see you so upset, my lady. Is there anything I can do?"
"Can you go to King's Landing for me? Pretend to be me?" Lyarra asked. She sat up in the bed and fixed Rhea with a cold stare. "Can you bring my father back to life? Can you bring me the king's head for what he has done to my father – a man ten times more honourable than he will ever be?"
Shocked at her mistress' outburst, Rhea cast her eyes anywhere but at Lyarra. She stammered for a response. "No- no, my lady. I cannot."
Lyarra sighed, guilt rushing over her as she realised how unfair she had been. "Forgive me, Rhea. That was... wrong of me. You were only being kind." I am becoming like Jaime. Snappish and inconsiderate. If he was here... would he comfort me? Or would he take his sister's side? Lyarra didn't want to think about it, knowing well what the answer was.
"There is nothing to forgive, my lady," Rhea assured, smiling kindly at Lyarra. Perhaps she's not so bad after all. Though she may be Tywin's spy, she is kind and dutiful. What more can I ask for in a southern handmaiden? "I know that grief can make us do and say things that we might not mean."
Not knowing how to respond to that, Lyarra merely nodded. She glanced towards the window, noticing that the curtains were still pulled over. She had no idea what time it was. "Do you know what time it is, Rhea?"
"Almost night-time, my lady. I'll have you brought some supper, if you'd like," Rhea said.
"No, I'm-" The thought of food made her want to get sick. Lyarra then realised that it wasn't just her she had to take care of. Her baby was almost full term. It needed food. She smiled at Rhea and nodded. "Yes, Rhea. Thank you."
She could not afford to be numbed by grief any longer. She had wasted a whole day of travel time. A fortnight to get to King's Landing, that was all she had. She couldn't even afford to use a carriage. She would have go to King's Landing on horseback, even it might be harmful for her child. I have no choice. She placed her hand on her stomach. We must both be strong and durable. What other choice do I have?
"Rhea," she called again. The handmaiden turned around. "Help me pack my things. I'll leave tomorrow at dawn."
The sun was beating down on them. Lyarra couldn't find it in her to marvel at the wonderful blue sky or enjoy the blistering sun, not when every muscle in her body ached and sweat was pouring out of her. If anything, the heat was torture. They had been travelling for two weeks and were nearing King's Landing. Lyarra refused to allow her soldiers, her handmaiden or their horses rest, not when she risked angering the king. They hadn't slept in two days. Lyarra tried to joke with them, saying that if she in her condition could manage, then so could they. But I am not managing. I want to fall off my horse and go to sleep in the dirt.
She felt her eye lids become heavy with fatigue and closed them for a few minutes. The next thing she knew, she was almost falling off her horse. Luckily, one of the guardsmen caught her on one side while Rhea held her arm on the other.
"Thank you," she nodded at the soldier who merely inclined his head towards her with a pitiful look on his face. She turned to look at her handmaiden, about to give her thanks as well, before she noticed the disapproving look on Rhea's face. "Don't look at me like that."
"I only worry for you, my lady," Rhea said. "You and the baby. You're a mere fortnight away from giving birth. All this stress is not good for the child – or you, for that matter."
Lyarra gripped the reins of her horse tighter until her knuckles became white. Fatigue made her grouchy, and she didn't want to take out her anger on Rhea again, not when her handmaiden had been so good to her for the last two weeks. "If I had the choice, I would have stayed in Casterly Rock until the baby is born at least." Lyarra placed her hand on her stomach, her face becoming white as she remembered Queen Cersei's letter. "They threatened me, Rhea. I had to."
Rhea placed her head on top of Lyarra's and gave it a squeeze. Lyarra offered her handmaiden a small smile. A spy she may be, but she is the only friend I have. "Will you stay in King's Landing to birth the child?"
She shook her head vehemently. "Absolutely not. There is no way I am having my child in that dreadful place. We need not rush on our way back. I'd rather have the baby in some cheap inn on the way home." Lyarra laughed humourlessly. "Or a field in the middle of nowhere."
Though she wasn't looking directly at her handmaiden, she could feel Rhea's eyes upon her, narrowed and focused. Lyarra did her best to ignore her handmaiden and looked straight ahead. The Red Keep was now in sight, though they were still a mile away. Lyarra had to admit that it was a wondrous structure, even if she felt only contempt for the Red Keep. Her father met his downfall in the Red Keep. He was a prisoner – a convicted traitor. Sansa was a prisoner in the Red Keep still, and Lyarra would soon join her. She sighed and spurred her horse to go faster, allowing her guards to follow close behind.
They arrived in the keep just after noon. Lyarra dismounted her horse and allowed a stable boy to take care of him.
"Lady Lannister." Lyarra heard a man call from behind her. She spun around and tried to place the man, but could not for the life of her. He, however, regarded her as though they were old friends. His grin was unnerving. "Forgive me. I forget, you must not know who I am." He gave a small chuckle. "I am Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin. I was friends with your mother when she was girl. She probably mentioned me. I was her father's ward."
Lyarra shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not." Realising that she must have sounded rather rude, Lyarra added. "Of course, Mother spoke so rarely of her childhood."
He smiled at her again – that creepy, ingenuine smile of his that she already loathed. "Of course," he repeated. He offered Lyarra his arm which she took with a grateful smile. "The king has sent me to escort you to the throne room. It is your first time in the Red Keep, is it not?"
"Why must I meet with his Grace so soon? Could I not freshen up first?" Lyarra asked. She felt very dishevelled and messy. If she was to be presented before the court, she would like to be presentable at the very least.
"I am afraid not, Lady Lannister." Petyr flashed her another smile. He lowered his voice when he spoke again. "From my experience of kings, they do not like to be kept waiting."
"Though I have little experience with kings and court, I can agree with you on that," she commented, too tired to try to be mannerly. So the king not only expected me to arrive in King's Landing within a fortnight, but to arrive smelling like roses and looking the proper lady. What a loathsome... She stopped her own train of thought, knowing that it did not do well to think badly of the king before meeting him, in case she said something impolite.
"I regretted that I was unable to attend your wedding to Ser Jaime. As Master of Coin I was much too busy," Petyr said to her. Lyarra was about to respond when Petyr continued to speak. "It was a very grand affair, I heard. Lord Tywin spared no expense."
"I am very lucky," Lyarra replied. Her head began to whirl as they approached the Great Hall. She was nervous. So many eyes would be on her, watching her no doubt antagonistic conversation with the king. What if she said something impolite or offensive? The boy king killed her father! What if she was unable to stop herself from saying something stupid?
But I must. I must be perfect for the king and queen. I must hold my tongue.
"And to become with child so quickly," Petyr drawled on, glancing pointedly towards her very large stomach. Lyarra placed her hand on her bump, as though to protect it. It was the first thing every courtier look at as they passed her. The Red Keep was very different to Casterly Rock, and incomparable to Winterfell. Lyarra barely listened to Petyr, only hearing the final part of his long rant. "Ser Jaime must have been delighted! Not as delighted as Lord Tywin, I presume! To have both an heir and another on the way. You have done House Lannister a great service, Lady Lannister."
"I do hope so," she replied. They were standing just outside the Great Hall now.
"I fear I must leave you now," Petyr said to her. He leaned closer to her and whispered into Lyarra's ear. "Disagree with nothing. If the king insults your family, agree. If he insults your father, agree. Nobility will not get you anywhere. Not here."
With that, he left her. Lyarra took a deep breath and waited for the herald to announce her before walking into the Great Hall and towards the king. Joffrey was just as she remembered him. He looked similar to Jaime, although while Jaime's expression displayed arrogance, Joffrey's displayed childishness – petulance, even.
"Lady Lannister," the king greeted her, grinning. "Or shall I call you aunt?"
"Your Grace," she replied and attempted to kneel. A Stark kneeling before him was no doubt the sight King Joffrey craved to see. Lyarra tried, but her bump was much too large, and Lyarra knew that if she was to kneel, she wouldn't be able to get up again without making an embarrassment of herself. She looked up at the king, hoping that he would give her permission to stand again, but of course, Joffrey did no such thing.
"Lower," Joffrey instead commanded, leering at his good-aunt with malice in his eyes. It was a mistake to expect such a vile monster to show leniency. She looked to the queen beside him for help, foolishly thinking that Queen Cersei, having been pregnant herself three times, would sympathise with her. Lyarra was sorely disappointed. "Your stand before your king. On your knees. Now!"
"Your Grace!" It was the queen's brother – and indeed Lyarra's good-brother – who intervened. Lyarra had heard that Lord Tyrion had been made Hand of the King. "Your uncle's wife is heavy with child-"
"That she is, uncle," Joffrey interrupted, grinning. His mad eyes danced from Lyarra to his uncle, gleefully exerting his power over them. "But she is also the sister of Robb Stark! She will bend the knee to me, regardless of her condition. If Robb Stark will not swear fealty to me, then it is his sister's duty to do so. Do you agree, Lady Lannister?"
You monstrous brat. Robb is twice the man you'll ever be! She wanted to yell. She wanted to scream profanities. But Lyarra Stark did not have a death wish, so she bit the inside of her cheek and forced herself to nod. "Yes, Your Grace." Ignoring the muffled laughs of the nobles who were watching the exchange, Lyarra grit her teeth together and struggled to get onto her knees. She wobbled and almost fell face first on the cold floor below her, but managed to regain some sort of steadiness and kneeled before the king. She dreaded having to get back up.
"Very good," Joffrey complimented. He smirked at her. Lyarra noticed the queen smirking as well. "Do you, Lyarra of House Lannister, swear fealty to me, your rightful king?"
Lyarra swallowed the lump in her throat – and her pride. "I do."
Joffrey eagerly continued. "Do you renounce and reject your brother Robb Stark's ridiculous uprising and his treasonous campaign for Northern independence?"
"What?" Lyarra looked between the king, his mother and Lord Tyrion with confusion in her eyes, waiting for someone to explain. They all expected her to know, but she didn't have a clue.
"Do you?" the king repeated, becoming short with her. He gripped the armrest of the Iron Throne tightly and glared at Lyarra's kneeling form.
"You have no idea, have you?" the queen asked, grinning at Lyarra. Lyarra shook her head. "Your brother, the foolish child, has decided to call himself the King in the North and wishes to make the North an independent kingdom. You condemn this as an act of treason, don't you, Lady Lannister?"
Her brother – her Robb – the King in the North? Robb had never expressed any interest in being a king, or starting a rebellion against the south. He never cared much for change. In fact, Lyarra would have considered her brother to be traditional if anything, and certainly not a revolutionary. Perhaps their father's death made him resent the south even more. Oh, Robb, what have you done?! Joffrey would never accept Robb as the northern king, or acknowledge northern independence. That meant that the war was likely to drag on until one side was defeated. There would be no negotiating a compromise. And that meant that Lyarra wouldn't see her family for a very long time – perhaps never again. Lyarra wanted to cry.
She swallowed her feelings, again, and spoke as clearly as she could, though her voice shook. "I do."
Joffrey glared at her, noticing her hesitation. "Do you swear to serve and obey me as the one true king of Westeros, and condemn the acts of your traitorous brother for what they are – treason?"
Forgive me, Robb.
"I do."
Joffrey sat on the edge of his throne, looking at her viciously. Lyarra remembered what Jaime told her once. Pretend it's not happening, he had said, a few days before he went off to war. Go away inside. Lyarra heeded his advise now as she waited for the king to speak again, well aware that he was saving the most hurtful question for last.
"Your father was arrested in that very spot, where you kneel before me now." Lyarra's eyes filled with tears. Go away inside. "He questioned my right to rule. He wanted to take the throne for himself. All those years of pretending to be an honourable man, when he only ever wished to take the throne of his best friend... he was quite the actor, wasn't he? He had you fooled as well, did he not?"
She couldn't trust herself to answer. Tears fell from her eyes against her will. Go away inside. She needed to get her act together, that she knew. She needed to please the king. She knew it was dangerous to grieve for a traitor, but Lyarra could not help it. He was her father and she loved him! And he was dead. Killed by a vicious boy king!
"Your father was rightfully executed by my order for his crimes. His actions were treasonous. Lord Eddard Stark lost his head for his treasonous acts." Lyarra let out a sob. She shut her mouth and willed herself to toughen up. Father would not want this. Father would want me to get out of this keep with my head. Joffrey grinned. "Do you acknowledge that your father, Lord Eddard of House Stark, was a vile traitor who deserved his fate? And that his beliefs and his actions were treason against the rightful king?"
Lyarra looked up at him, tears in her eyes that she hoped he couldn't see, and nodded, trying to find her voice. When she did, she spoke weaker than she would have liked, and promised the king. "I do."
The king narrowed his eyes at her. He looks... disappointed, Lyarra noted, as though he expected her to throw a tantrum or make some sort of scene. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Your Grace? You and your mother. It would give you both an excuse to do away with me. Lyarra refused to give them any excuse. She had learned from the mistakes of her father. She would not allow herself to become another Stark blinded by honour and trust. Blinking away her tears, she ignored the pain of grief that had settled in her heart and tried to act like a loyal subject.
"Very well," the king eventually replied. Another grin split his face in half as an idea most likely popped into his head. Lyarra's stomach churned. "It would please me greatly if you were to stay in King's Landing, until your child comes."
Lyarra remembered what she said to Rhea earlier. In a filthy inn. Or out in the open in a field, in front of all my guards. Anywhere was better than King's Landing. She forced a polite smile on her lips. "I thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace, but I do not wish to trouble you."
"Nonsense," Joffrey grinned. "There are more than enough rooms in this keep. Right, uncle?"
Tyrion gave Lyarra a pitiful look. "Yes, Your Grace."
"And it is my duty to ensure that my cousin arrives safely," Joffrey stated. "I would not forgive myself if something was to happy to him on your way back to Casterly Rock. You would not refuse your king the chance to help his kin, would you?"
You never cared before. Lyarra saw that she had no choice. What the king wanted, the king would get. "Of course not, Your Grace. Thank you."
Still grinning at her as though she was his prey, the king gave her a dismissive wave. Lyarra took that as her leave and tried to stand up. She failed miserably and couldn't even manage to scramble onto her feet. When she looked up at the king and his mother, she saw them smirking at the sight. She blinked away tears. She heard someone approach her and looked up to find her good-brother, Lord Tyrion. He offered her his arm. Lyarra gratefully took it, thanking him most earnestly as he led her out of the throne room.
"You must be exhausted," Tyrion said sympathetically. Lyarra looked at him, surprised. Though he'd been kind to her, she hadn't expected a member of House Lannister to care so much. "I heard my darling sister and nephew gave you a fortnight to get to King's Landing. You came on horseback I presume."
"Yes," she replied, frowning. "It was the only way to get here on time."
"It must have been difficult, given your condition," Tyrion said, eyeing her stomach just as every courtier had. Lyarra would have been irritated if Tyrion had not just saved her from public humiliation. "Forgive me, but your bump is very large, my lady. I don't remember my sister ever bearing such a bump." Lyarra chuckled in response. They stopped at a door. Tyrion gestured for her to go in before him. "Come, there is something I must speak to you about."
Tyrion led her to his solar. Lyarra believed it to be the Tower of the Hand, though she did not voice her discovery. She pressed her lips together. This was her father's final residence before they brought him to the Tower. Lyarra shook her head slightly. She would have to stop getting upset about everything if she was to survive in King's Landing.
Her good-brother sat down in the chair behind his desk and indicated for her sit. Lyarra gladly obliged. Her legs were sore, as was her back and her arse as well. It had been a rough fortnight. Tyrion poured two glasses of wine – Dornish wine, if Lyarra was to guess – and handed Lyarra one. She looked at him oddly.
"I shouldn't. The baby..."
"Oh, yes, yes. I forgot. Forgive me." He took back the glass of wine and gave Lyarra a grin. "I'll just have to drink them both."
Lyarra laughed at him, noting the stark difference between him and Jaime. Though they both were gifted with silver tongues and wit, there was something kinder about Tyrion. Nevertheless, Lyarra had no time for idle chit-chat and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed. "What is it you wanted to speak with me about?"
"My brother Jaime," Tyrion answered. "He has been captured. By your brother, actually. Quite ironic when you think about it."
She straightened in her seat, suddenly becoming much less tired. "Have they offered to trade? My sisters for Jaime – it's the quickest way to end this silliness."
"Indeed it is," Tyrion replied. He narrowed his eyes at Lyarra, watching her carefully. "But there is just one problem."
"Oh?" Lyarra responded. "And what's that?"
"We only have one of your sisters." Tyrion paused, gauging Lyarra's reaction to the news. Lyarra's eyes widened. "Sansa. The other girl-"
"Arya," Lyarra corrected him, her mind was far away, wrecked with thoughts. Arya was but a child, and she was all alone. Though she had to admit that if any of them – Ned Stark's three daughters – had to survive alone on the road, Arya would be the best bet. That didn't take away from the fact that she was a young girl who was without protection.
"Arya," he repeated, "slipped away when your father was arrested. We haven't been able to find her." On any other occasion, Lyarra would have laughed at her sister's remarkably consistent behaviour. When they were in Winterfell, if Arya decided to go missing, nobody could find her. It seemed her little sister was using that skill to her benefit now. Nonetheless, Lyarra's stomach filled with dread and worry.
"So she just ran away?"
Tyrion took another sip of wine. "Yes."
"On her own?"
"It would seem so," Tyrion clarified. Lyarra sighed and fell back in her chair, slouching. She was exhausted. Tyrion eyed his young good-sister and decided to lighten the conversation. "When are you due to have the child?"
Lyarra gave him a small smile and placed her hand on her stomach. The baby gave a small kick. "Within the next few weeks, I think. I haven't been keeping track, what with everything going on."
"The king shouldn't ordered you to come to King's Landing, not in your condition. That whole spectacle was futile display of power. Nobody will think better of King Joffrey for it." Tyrion poured himself another glass of wine. Lyarra found herself craving some. "You, however, held yourself well. You were right not to argue with him."
Unable to stop herself, Lyarra scoffed. "I'm a coward. He insulted my family. If I was brave, I would have defended them."
"No. If you were stupid, perhaps. Then again, stupidity and bravery are often all too similar," Tyrion mused, sipping his wine. Lyarra watched him closely, noticing how his eyes softened all of a sudden. "I am sorry about your father. He was a good man."
If she was clever, she would tell him that her father was a traitor, that he deserved to die for his crimes. If she was clever, she would lie. A clever girl would know that one cannot trust anyone in King's Landing. A clever girl would be able to lie. But Lyarra was tired of lying, of acting, so she allowed her shoulders to drop and accepted his condolences.
"Thank you," she replied. She chewed at her lower lip. "My mother captured you."
To Lyarra's surprise, Tyrion actually laughed. "That she did. A fierce woman, your mother, and a most fierce adversary. I was unlucky enough to have gotten on her bad side." Noticing how Lyarra was regarding him suspiciously, Tyrion sighed and clarified what they were both thinking. "A misunderstanding, that is all. She thought I was the one who sent the assassin after your brother. I did not."
"Do you know who did?" Lyarra asked, surprising herself with her boldness.
Tyrion chuckled. "No. I do not. I imagine you have your suspicions, however. Your mother certainly did."
"Was my brother with you? When she took you?" Lyarra asked him.
Her good-brother took a moment to answer. "No. But I did see your brother when I was passing through Winterfell. The boy is well. I designed a saddle for him so he can continue to ride horses."
Perhaps not all Lannisters are so horrible. Lyarra had thought the same of Jaime once, more than once actually, and had been sorely disappointed. Yet Tyrion seemed more... consistent, than his brother. Lyarra smiled at him. "Thank you for that. Bran always loved horse-riding."
He smiled back at her and continued with his story. "Of course, I then had the misfortune of meeting your mother in a tavern in the Riverlands where she had men loyal to her father arrest me. She had me brought to your Aunt Lysa in the Eyrie, where I was put in a rather interesting cell. It only had one wall, you see. Quite frightening, actually. Then I had to endure a farce of a trial. Luckily, a sellsword by the name of Bronn stepped up to be my champion and protected my honour." Tyrion raised his glass. "To chivalrous sellswords."
Lyarra merely gave him a small smile. She had never known her mother to be so... rash. "My mother's actions were impulsive. Ever since Bran's fall, she has been paranoid and not at all herself."
"I heard she fled Casterly Rock in the middle of the night with your brother, without a single word." Again, Tyrion watched her closely for her reaction. He licked his lips. "Caused quite the stir."
"Like I said," Lyarra repeated, "She wasn't herself."
Tyrion nodded. "Understandable." He paused for a few moments, deep in thought. Lyarra would give anything to know what was going through his head. Tyrion took one last gulp of wine before jumping onto his feet. He addressed Lyarra kindly. "I won't keep you any longer."
Lyarra pushed herself to her feet and inclined her head respectfully towards her good-brother before leaving his solar. As soon as she reached her new chambers, Lyarra collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep.
Author's Note: 35 reviews?! You guys are too good! Hope you liked the update!