Traitor's Skin

Cersei swilled her glass of wine around without a care in the world. Of course, she had too much on her mind, so much that she had to drink to forget it all. They had been finally gifted with quiet again, now that the Stark bitch's whelp had been born. Two whole days, the little wolf had screamed and yelled and kept them all awake.

Now, Jaime's child-bride had decided to continue her theatrics by having the entire household fussing over her. Cersei didn't have the energy to feel sorry for her, even if she was of an age with Joff and might die of childbed fever, just as Cersei's own mother had. Good riddance. The girl's death would be a blessing upon them all. Jaime could find a more suitable bride – or, better yet, remain unwed and in King's Landing with Cersei. After all, he had his heir now. The child was robust and healthy. What use had he for another?

But Cersei was no fool. While Jaime would no doubt be content to stay unmarried, their father would pressure him into marrying again in the name of duty. Though Cersei would prefer if Jaime never married another woman, she had to admit that any other woman would be preferable to Lyarra Stark. A wolf for a lion, Cersei scoffed, what a trade! What a joke, more like. What had Robert been thinking? Such a marriage could never work. Jaime was unhappy with the match, as was his Stark wife. The only person who was happy with the match was Robert. As always, Robert got what he wanted and we all must suffer for it.

It was in the best interests for her family, most specifically her beloved twin brother, that spurred her to go to Maester Pycelle the evening after Lyarra had birthed the Lannister heir. Jon, she had named it. A northern name for the heir of Casterly Rock, Father would be disgusted no doubt. That was why they had to be rid of her. The girl had traitor blood and was far too wilful. It was in the interests of House Lannister that she succumb to childbed fever. Jaime would be unwed and House Lannister would still be blameless, as surely even a dimwit such as Robb Stark couldn't possibly blame them for his sister's ill-luck in the birthing chamber.

"Maester Pycelle," she greeted the old man pleasantly, giving him her best smile. Of course the old man fell for it. He spun around immediately and stopped what he was doing to greet her. "How is my good-sister faring?"

"Not well at all, I'm afraid," Pycelle lamented, looking mournful. The old maester was no doubt putting on an act. If he did fear for the Stark girl's life, then he was only doing so because he knew Cersei's father might be displeased. "She suffers from a most severe fever and delirium. I've given her some milk of the poppy and other concoctions that are known to eliminate infection. With some treatment, I believe I should be able to bring Lady Lannister back to full health."

Cersei smirked at him and gave a small laugh. "Don't." The look on his face only made her grin larger.

Pycelle's mouth opened considerably as he stammered. "W-What? I don't believe I-"

"I said 'don't'," Cersei repeated, stepping closer to the old maester until she towered over him. She glowered down at Maester Pycelle, seeming as threatening as she could possibly manage. "We have no use for a traitor's daughter in the family. We have an heir. Should we be lucky enough and all Lyarra's brothers die, then Jon Lannister is the heir to the North. We don't need her. So what if she was to succumb to childbed fever during the night? Robb Stark could not possibly condemn us for his sister's death if it was so clearly the will of the gods." Cersei smirked to herself, proud of her vindictive plan.

The maester started stammering again. Cersei rolled her eyes. What was so difficult to understand? "Lord Tywin-"

"Will see that we are better off without the Stark bitch," Cersei snapped. "I'm not asking you to kill the girl. I am asking you to be... more relaxed, in your treatment of her." Seeing that Pycelle was reluctant, Cersei glared at him. "Need I remind you that I am the queen and the mother of your king. If I should will it, I could have your head on a spike for your disobedience. I would hate to doubt where your loyalties lie."

That was enough to frighten the man into doing her bidding. Pycelle swiftly agreed and gave her a low bow before scurrying off to tend to Lyarra Stark. Cersei couldn't help but grin as she returned to her chambers.

"The fever has not yet broken?" Tyrion asked Lyarra's handmaiden just outside her chambers. He was not allowed inside, but he could hear enough to know that his good-sister was very ill.

"No, my lord," the handmaiden – Rhea, he believed her name was – informed him. She was a loyal handmaiden, Tyrion had discovered, as she seemed genuinely distressed by her mistress' condition. Tyrion could admire that. "She's been having strange dreams as well and she's been vomiting. Maester Pycelle says that it is an infection, but..."

"But, what?" Tyrion prompted, sensing the girl's worry and hesitation.

Rhea chewed at her lower lip, as though debating whether to tell Tyrion. She ultimately decided to. "Maester Pycelle was very attentive to her at first. He gave her all these medicines and helped her... vomit. He said she had to get the infection out some way." Tyrion cringed. Nobody would want Pycelle's hands down their throat. "But then he went to fetch something a few hours ago and since then, he hasn't done anything with Lady Lannister. No medicine, no treatment at all actually. He's been idle, watching as she suffers. I would go so far as call him neglectful, my lord."

Tyrion nodded, appreciating the handmaiden's honesty. No doubt Pycelle had been given orders to neglect the Stark girl and allow her to succumb to her illness. The only thing he questioned was if it was Joffrey or Cersei. Both were just as likely. Joffrey because he was a cruel bastard who enjoyed terrorising Stark girls, and Cersei because of her sick jealousy towards Jaime's wife and child. What a pleasure it was to belong to such a great family!

"Thank you," Tyrion said to the handmaiden. "I appreciate your honesty."

"Will you do something for her?" Rhea asked him.

"Yes," he promised, giving her a reassuring smile. "All I can."

For even if Cersei didn't care if Lyarra Stark died, Jaime would surely be displeased at the very least. His brother wasn't cruel, most of the time. In fact, Tyrion sometimes wondered if Jaime had a better heart than even Tyrion had.

As soon as he had finished speaking with Lyarra's handmaiden, he rushed to find Maester Pycelle, flanked by his loyal companion and guard Bronn. The old man sat in the rooms adjacent to Lyarra's chambers, sitting by the window and looking deep in thought. Tyrion had no qualms about interrupting them.

"Maester!" he addressed, getting the man's attention immediately. Maester Pycelle looked rather frightened of him. "It has come to my attention that we now allow young mothers to fall prey to childbed fever. Can you tell me how that came about?"

"I- I," the old maester stammered, rising to his feet, "I don't quite know what you're talking about. If you are accusing me of-"

"Of neglect?" Tyrion finished, stepping closer to the old man. Maester Pycelle glanced worriedly at Bronn. "Of shirking your duties as a maester of the Citadel? Why, yes, I am actually. How do you think my father will react when he learns that his daughter-in-law, the mother of the future heir to Casterly Rock, is being left to fend for herself as she battles childbed fever?" Maester Pycelle muttered a feeble response. "Well? Do you think he will be happy? Do you? I very much doubt it."

"I did no such thing-"

"Oh, don't waste your breath denying it," Tyrion snapped, rolling his eyes as the maester started stammering again. "We both know it to be true. Who was it that encouraged you to treat my sister-in-law so poorly?"

Pycelle shook his head vehemently. "I cannot say. I will not say."

Tyrion clenched his fists tightly by his sides and fought the urge to hit Pycelle. Though he was short in stature, Tyrion could throw a good punch. He resisted the urge and settled with a less violent approach. "No matter. I can guess who it was. Now, you are going to go back into that room and you are going to make sure that Lyarra Stark – or Lannister, whichever you choose – does not die of childbed fever, or I swear to you, whatever my sister or nephew has threatened to do to you will pale in comparison to the punishment I have in mind. Do we understand each other?"

White with either anger or embarrassment, Tyrion could not tell, Pycelle begrudgingly nodded his head. "Yes, my lord. Perfectly." He gave both him and Bronn and shallow bow before going into Lyarra's chambers again.

He turned around to Bronn, who wore a grin on his lips. "For a little man, you're good at scaring old men."

"Young, cruel kings as well," Tyrion replied chirpily as they walked the halls of the Red Keep.

"If I was a young woman, I'd rather die of childbed fever than have that old man touch me," Bronn remarked.

"Hm, an admittedly tough choice," Tyrion mused. "You ought to find a woman who has undergone such torment to get a true answer, I believe."

"You'd ask a lady that?" Bronn asked, disbelieving.

Tyrion smirked at him. "I'd ask a lady anything."

It was the first time in an entire week that she had ventured out of her bed. It was only by Pycelle's recommendation that she did so. Lyarra would have been more than happy to stay in bed for a few more days. Her body ached, she felt so weak and tired, as though she could just fall over at any moment and, perhaps worst of all, her mind was so preoccupied with traumatic memories of Jon's birth that she could barely converse with the abundance of courtiers that had decided to visit her and the baby. It seemed that as soon as word reached them that Lyarra was out of bed and well enough, almost every courtier – or all the nosy ones, at least – decided to visit her. Lyarra tried to be polite, tried to make good conversation like Mother had taught her, but she was just so tired.

She sat beside Jon's crib. Every so often she would pick him up and hold him. Each time she expected to feel differently. She didn't know what she expected really, perhaps some wave of powerful motherly affection for her son. As she looked down at her son, sleeping peacefully in his crib, Lyarra still couldn't believe that he was hers, and not even in a 'too-good-to-be-true' kind of way. She felt detached and indifferent. Motherhood was supposed to be natural, but for Lyarra, it was anything but.

Even so, she had spent the last hour staring at Jon, lost in thought. She had been so excited to meet him, to become a mother. What was wrong with her? I am the only parent he has until Jaime comes home – if Jaime comes home – and I cannot even love him. Lyarra choked back a sob. Hearing the guard announce another visitor, Lyarra pushed back the lump in her throat and sat up straight, shifting into a more comfortable position.

"My lady." It was her good-brother, Lord Tyrion. He bowed to her. Lyarra was about to stand up and greet him, but Tyrion raised his hand to her, signalling for her to sit back down. Lyarra was more than happy to oblige. "Please. There is no need. You are recovering well?"

Lyarra nodded. "I am. I have you to thank for that." Tyrion furrowed his brows, confused. Lyarra elaborated. "Rhea told me how Maester Pycelle seemed to have been... encouraged to be neglectful towards me. You intervened on my behalf. I thank you for that." She would be eternally grateful to him. If it wasn't for Lord Tyrion, she might not be alive.

Her brother-in-law offered her a genuine smile. "Any half decent person would have done the same. My sister and nephew, however, are devoid of all decency and empathy." He gave her a meaningful look. Lyarra understood his meaning perfectly. "To ensure your safety and the safety of your son, I would advise you to leave King's Landing as soon as you are able."

"Will he let me?" Lyarra whispered. Cersei and Joffrey despised her, for whatever reason. It seemed to be mainly because of who her father was, but the fact that she was now Lady Lannister seemed to add insult to injury for the king and his mother. "The king..."

"I will handle the king," Tyrion promised. "And if needs be, I will write to my father and have him talk some sense into my sister and her son. No doubt he will be furious when he hears that Joffrey and Cersei summoned you to King's Landing."

"Thank you, Lord Tyrion," she replied, genuinely grateful. She had no desire to stay in King's Landing for longer than she absolutely had to. Everyone was so horribly fake.

Tyrion stepped closer to Jon's crib and smiled fondly at the baby. "He has your hair," he remarked. Hearing Tyrion's voice, Jon's eyes opened ever so slightly and he peered up at his uncle. Tyrion laughed. "And your eyes. But Jaime's grin, I think. He is a wonderful child, truly. You did well." Lyarra gave him a half-hearted smile, unable to manage anything more. Though she was able to marvel at her child – knowing that she had carried another living, human-being in her stomach was an amazing notion – Lyarra had never regarded her baby as wonderful. Tyrion narrowed his eyes at Lyarra, sensing that she was not quite herself. "Are you feeling well, my lady?"

She nodded. "I am recovering quickly. I am still quite weak and tired, but other than that, I hope to return to Casterly Rock within the month."

"While I am glad to hear that," Tyrion began, giving Lyarra a sorry smile, "it was not the kind of wellness I was inquiring about." Confused, Lyarra tilted her head to the side as she tried to understand what he was saying. "You seem dejected, far-away. Forgive me, my lady, but I do wonder if childbirth affected more than just your body."

Hearing those words made her feelings very real to Lyarra. She blinked away tears and looked away, wary of spilling her heart to a Lannister. But he has always been kind to me. I owe him some semblance of trust, at least. "I can't..." she trailed off, trying to find the right words. She shook her head. "I'm going to sound like a terrible person."

"I've met my fill of terrible people, and you are not one of them." He smiled encouragingly. "Try me."

Lyarra sighed, her voice breaking as she opened up to her brother-in-law. "I can't seem to find it in me to love him, as a mother should. I've tried. I know I should love my own child, but I just... can't. I thought it would come naturally. But it hasn't. What kind of a monster can't love her own child? Even your sister loves her children, so why can't I?"

The look on Tyrion's face was not judging, but rather sympathetic. "My sister loves her children, yes. She is a woman of questionable morals, yet she loves her children fiercely. But Cersei never went through what you have. I am no expert on motherhood or children, but I am sure that it's normal to feel... indifferent to your son considering the traumatic birth you had to suffer to bring the child into the world. Motherly love might take some time. But be sure of this, how you feel at this moment in time doesn't make you an inferior mother to Cersei."

Nodding, Lyarra looked at her son once again. He was so innocent, so beautiful, so peaceful. An easy child to love, yet she could not. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Every time I look at him, I remember how painful it was. I had no idea where I was most of the time. I was terrified."

"It will pass," Tyrion assured her. "I'm sure you're not the first mother to feel like this. Give it time, Lyarra."

Why couldn't this be easy? She was a mother at six-and-ten, without a husband to help her to raise their child, why couldn't it be simple? Lyarra blinked away her tears again and nodded. Tyrion patted her on the knee, giving her one last small smile before bidding her farewell. Just before he left, he turned around and gave her a large, cheeky grin.

"Oh, I almost forgot to praise you for choosing such a fine name. Very... meaningful."

Lyarra smiled and laughed at him, her first real laugh in a very long time. He inclined his head towards her before spinning on his heel and leaving, whistling to himself as he did.

For the next two weeks, the frequent visits from courtiers continued. Lyarra was exhausted and found herself barely able to converse with her visitors. Of course, most courtiers were well able to converse with a brick wall, at least Lyarra was able to nod and participate every now and then, though she didn't think they noticed.

It was inevitable – that she knew – but when her guard announced that the queen had come to visit her, Lyarra was startled. She stood up to greet the queen as she strolled into Jon's nursery and curtsied to her.

"You are to be congratulated," Cersei told her, a vibrant smile on her face. All that Lyarra could think about as the queen spoke to her was how the woman in front of her wanted her dead. How she was so willing to have her suffer such pain and confusion before ultimately succumbing to her fever. How could any woman be so cruel? Lyarra pushed back her thoughts and smiled pleasantly at the queen. "You gave my brother a son. House Lannister has an heir. You must be pleased with yourself."

"I am glad to have done my duty," Lyarra replied carefully, having given her choice of words much thought. Mother would be proud of me.

The queen scoffed and, without invitation, walked towards Jon's crib. Lyarra watched Cersei closely as she picked up Jon, an uneasy feeling in her stomach as the woman who wanted her dead only a fortnight ago held her son. "I never got a good look at him," Cersei remarked, eyeing Jon with something akin to distaste as she scrutinised every feature, every freckle and every part of his little face. "He is all Stark unfortunately. Not a hint of Lannister in him."

Lyarra glared at the queen, perfectly understanding the implication. She would not have Cersei, of all people, questioning her honour. "Someone told me once that when one parent has dark hair and the other is fair, it is far more likely that the children are dark."

Understanding Lyarra's meaning, Cersei scowled at Lyarra and narrowed her eyes at her, suspicion in her green eyes. Lyarra's mother had known. Cersei was unfaithful to the king. Perhaps her children were not the king's as well. Cersei laughed and smiled at Lyarra. "An old-wives' tale. Such things cannot be predicted. They are up to the gods."

Lyarra would not be so daring to directly say it, but if the queen had the gall to imply that Lyarra had been unfaithful, then Lyarra refused to accept such an accusation without some sort of retort. Though she did not believe that the queen was a godly woman by any standard, Lyarra backed down and inclined her head respectfully. "Of course. I just thought it was an interesting piece of trivia to note."

"Not particularly," Cersei deadpanned in response, placing Jon back in his crib. Lyarra exhaled a breath of relief. "You gave him a Stark name. The name suits, of course, given his unfortunate colouring, but you seem to have forgotten that your child is not a Stark, but a Lannister. House Stark is currently at war against the crown. They hold your lord husband prisoner. To give your son a name belonging to such a house is treason."

"I gave my son an honourable name," Lyarra defended. "A name that belonged to two brilliant men. I cannot find shame in that."

"Yes, two brilliant men," Cersei mocked, rolling her eyes. "No doubt Jon Arryn is one of them. That man was honourable to a fault. But the other?" Cersei laughed to herself. "Ah, yes. Your bastard brother. What a brilliant man."

"My brother is a good man, as honourable as any," Lyarra corrected sharply.

The queen scoffed again. "Foolish, stubborn child. This silly act of rebellion can be dismissed as a rash decision induced by childbed fever. Change the name before the naming ceremony and this will all be forgotten about."

"I will not change his name," Lyarra firmly stated, clenching her fists by her side and trying her very best to remain calm. "I am going to name my son after a man that is dear to me – my brother! I didn't mean for this to be seen as an act of rebellion." Of course, that was a lie. It was an act of rebellion, however small. Joffrey may be cruel, but he could not execute her for naming her child a name that he didn't like. "Jaime and I agreed. He would the baby if it was a girl. I would name a boy. And so I name my son. How is that treason?"

Cersei rolled her eyes and sauntered towards the table that held a pitcher and glasses. She picked up the pitcher and poured out its contents, looking disappointed when water came out. "Water?" Cersei said in disgust. "Sometimes I forget how young you are. For future reference, in the south, good noblewomen drink wine and are expected to have a pitcher of wine at the ready for guests. This is not the North. Nobody wants water." Cersei spilled the goblet's contents on the floor.

"This is a nursery," Lyarra said slowly, aghast.

"The same rule applies," Cersei replied, smirking at Lyarra as she slammed the goblet back onto the table and walked back over to Lyarra slowly. "You believe that he will protect you. That he will take your side against his family when he returns – against me."

She went wide-eyed at Cersei's sudden change in demeanour and was lost as to who the queen was speaking about. "Who?"

"Jaime, you little fool," the queen stated aggressively, glowering at Lyarra. "My brother has always been loyal to me. To House Lannister. He was there when my children were born – every one of them, did you know that?"

Lyarra shook her head, ignoring the pit in her stomach that was brought on by jealousy. "No. I didn't."

The queen laughed at Lyarra, cruel mirth in her eyes. "And he couldn't even be bothered to be there for your first-born."

"He went to war," Lyarra explained, again as though the queen was stupid. She couldn't deny that the queen's words had hurt her. Perhaps he could have waited a few weeks. What were a few weeks, really? Lyarra ignored her thoughts as sheer jealousy. A man could not stay home because his wife was with child. Jaime would have been laughed at!

Cersei continued as though Lyarra had not said a word. "I know my brother better than anyone. We shared a womb. We grew up together. He's not made for a quiet life with a naive little northern wife and a half a dozen little brats running about the keep he's forced to run. He resents you already – the child King Robert forced him to marry. That feeling will worsen as time goes on. As marriage wears him down and becomes like a chain."

Tears formed in Lyarra's eyes. She had always found it difficult to control her emotions, now was no exception. She swallowed and forced herself to sound strong at least. "What is he made for, then? Since you know him so well, you must know."

Queen Cersei smirked at her as though she was privy to some brilliant secret. "War," she answered. "Didn't you notice how excited Jaime was to go to war, even if it was against your family?" Cersei laughed to herself. "Or how he didn't care that he would not be with you for the birth of your child – his first-born child with you? Anything that is simple or conventional bores him, and you are as simple and conventional as a young lady can come. He will never love you."

"Perhaps not," Lyarra replied, trying to keep her voice steady. She pushed back her tears and straightened her back. She would not pine for a man who did not love her, nor would she let Cersei see how much her cruel words affected her. "But many men have deprived their wives of love, and those women have not only survived, many of them thrived. Why not me? After all, King Robert never loved you – he hated you – yet here you are. Thriving." She smirked at Cersei, revelling in how the queen began to shake with anger.

Lyarra expected the slap, though she had not expected the queen to have so much strength in her. The blow made Lyarra fall to the floor, a cut on her cheek that gushed blood. Lyarra glared up at Cersei as the queen started to shout at her. "I am the mother to the king! You think that because you have given my father an heir you are untouchable, but I am his daughter! I have the king's ear! If I so will it, I could have your head on a pike – right beside your traitor father! You will learn some gratitude, or follow him into the grave!"

"Gratitude?" Lyarra repeated, despite herself. She struggled to get onto her feet again. Usually, Lyarra would know better than to anger the queen, but she had enough of Cersei's taunts, enough of her cruel jests. "What have you done for me? You had me travel to King's Landing – on horseback – during my final month of pregnancy. You forced me to risk my life and the life of my child in order to satisfy your and your son's desire to make a show of me in front of your courtiers. I almost died because of the stress the journey caused me. I almost lost my son! You had Maester Pycelle step back and let me succumb to childbed fever because of whatever petty hatred you have for me. What have I done to earn your ire? Tell me, what have I done to you but marry your brother out of duty?"

The queen's eyes grew cold. "Perhaps that is the problem. You shouldn't have married him. He shouldn't have married anyone." Lyarra did not miss the jealousy in the queen's voice, or how she had to stop herself but she said something potentially damaging. "Your disobedience and your sharp tongue are not welcome in my court. My threats are not mere words. Remember that. Though you seem to not value your life very much, how about your sister's?" As Lyarra's expression quickly morphed into one of fear, Cersei smiled callously. "If you refuse to behave, I'll tell Joffrey that he can do what he wants to your sister. I'm the only thing holding him back from all the... urgings he has for her. I would loath to anger your brother further, but if it meant teaching you gratitude and respect, then I would risk his anger gladly."

She had finally managed to shock Lyarra into silence. Lyarra sat down, staring up at the queen with horror in her eyes. Cersei's smirk grew wider. "Your father could not play the game of thrones. Neither can you. The south is a dangerous place for Starks. What a pity it would be to see another northern head fall because of sheer stupidity." The queen gave Jon one last look of loathing before she turned around and sauntered out of the room.

Lyarra didn't know how long she stayed seated, staring at the wall in front of her with wide, worried eyes. How stupid she had been, arguing with the queen! They could not do anything to Sansa or Lyarra that would get back to Robb, but they could still hurt them in more secretive ways. Lyarra vowed to be more sensible in future.

At least an hour – perhaps two – had passed when Lyarra received another visitor. Lord Baelish stepped inside the nursery with a vibrant smile on his face. "Lady Lannister! Words cannot describe how delighted I am to see you well and rested!" Lyarra made to stand up and greet him, but Baelish held out his hand to signal for her to stay seated. "Please. There is no need. Ah, what a beautiful son you have. Lord Tywin will be delighted."

"I should hope so," Lyarra replied, giving Baelish a weak smile.

"He has the Stark look," Baelish said quietly, staring down at her son with a faraway expression on his face. "But there is something of Ser Jaime in him as well." Lyarra could only offer him another weak smile. Lord Baelish responded with a sad smile of his own and sat down in the seat beside her, a pitiful look on his face. "You look rather startled, my lady. If you'd forgive me for saying so."

Lyarra was tired of lying and beating around the bush. Lord Baelish was a friend of her mother's, surely she could trust him somewhat? "I just had a very odd conversation with the queen," she admitted, keeping her voice low.

"Oh?" Baelish pried, leaning closer to her. "How so?"

"She..." Lyarra searched for the correct words, still quite startled from what the queen had said to her. "She threatened me and Sansa. If I continued to be disobedient, she said she'd let Joffrey do what he wanted with Sansa."

"Nonsense," Baelish replied, rolling his eyes at the queen's antics. "The king is already doing what he wants with Sansa. He cannot do much worse or he will compromise her honour, which he cannot do as it will destroy all possibility of trading Sansa for Ser Jaime. It is an empty threat." She nodded absently, somewhat relieved by what Baelish told her. "That's not all, is it?"

The young Lady Lannister shook her head. "She was being very strange. She... seemed to be bragging about how Jaime was with her for the birth of her three children while he wasn't for the birth of his own child. For my child."

"Well, it is well known that the queen and her brother are... very close," Baelish said carefully, watching Lyarra closely so he could gauge her reaction and see what she knew.

"It wasn't even that," Lyarra replied, shaking her head again. "I know they – they're twins, how could they not be close? But the way she spoke of him..." When she looked at Baelish again, she found him hanging on to her every word, his eyes narrowed with interest. Lyarra sighed. "It sounded like jealousy. As though she was trying to prove something to me – better me, somehow."

"And why would she do that?" Lord Baelish asked, as though he was trying to test her.

Lyarra shrugged. She had no idea why the queen hated her so much, or why she seemed to be in competition with Lyarra. "I don't know. It didn't make any sense to me either. She's his sister. I would understand if it was simply protectiveness, but..."

"It's obviously not," Baelish finished. He smiled at her. "Clever girl." Her mother's childhood friend paused and lowered his voice to a whisper. "What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room, for your sake as much as mine. The Lannisters are dangerous and will no doubt be rid of the both of us if they were to find out I told you. Do you understand this? The risk?"

Confused, Lyarra looked at him oddly, but nodded nonetheless. "I do. I won't tell a soul."

"Many have dismissed it for a mere rumour, started by Stannis Baratheon so he could claim the throne," Baelish explained, smirking to himself. "But I am not one of them. I have been aware for a very long time about the queen and her brother and their... relationship."

"Relationship?" Lyarra repeated.

Lord Baelish nodded. "The queen and her brother have been... intimate for quite some times, since their youth, perhaps. Your father found out before he died. That was why Cersei and Joffrey had him executed, to hide the truth. The king and his siblings are not the true heirs to the throne. They're Jaime Lannister's bastards."

It was as though someone had hit her. Immediately, her reaction was to vehemently deny the sheer possibility that Jaime could have... lain with his sister – his twin sister, to make matters worse! She shook her head. "No. It can't be... he-he wouldn't!"

"But he would," Petyr corrected her, ignoring her outburst and continuing on. "Your father was reading a most enlightening book before his arrest, detailing the great houses of Westeros and their hereditary traits. In all the instances of a Baratheon and Lannister marriage, the children have inherited black hair and blue eyes from their Baratheon parent. Every one. So why do the queen's children all have blonde hair and green eyes? All you have to do is look at them, really look at them, and you'll see that there is not a trace of their father in them – any of them. And if that is not enough proof, the queen's actions are proof enough themselves. You said it yourself; the queen did not sound like a protective sister when she spoke to you, but a jealous one – a jealous lover."

"You said my father... that he knew," Lyarra prompted, swallowing the lump in her throat. Though she was horrified by the news and a part of her refused to believe such filth, the more she thought of about it the more plausible it became.

"Jon Arryn was the first to find out. After myself and Varys, of course. It was Stannis who brought up his suspicions regarding the king's children. Him and Jon Arryn sought out many of Robert's bastards and found their proof in their appearance. Every one of his bastards had the Baratheon features. Your father continued Jon Arryn's work." Lord Baelish chuckled to himself. "Honourable man, your father – too honourable. He told the queen to flee with her children before he told the king so they could be spared. The queen then had the king's squire, her cousin and lover Lancel Lannister, give Robert too much ale on his hunt. You know the rest."

Indeed she did. Lyarra sat back in her chair, consumed by thought. How she wanted to deny it, to stand by her husband. Yet what Baelish was telling her made sense. It all made sense. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you deserve to know," Baelish answered. "You are married to the Kingslayer and now a member of the Lannister family, but you are a Stark as well. Cat's daughter. I could not allow you to remain ignorant of Ser Jaime's sins. Knowledge is power."

She wished he hadn't told her anything. Lyarra's head was spinning. How can I get over this? My husband... and his sister? She wondered if Jaime had been with Cersei since they married. How humiliating would that be! It was one to thing to have to suffer an unfaithful husband, but a husband shaming his wife by sleeping with his sister was quite another.

Lyarra gulped and turned her attention back to Lord Baelish. "Thank you, Lord Baelish, for enlightening me."

"Any time, my lady," Baelish replied. He leaned into her ear and whispered to her, "You might have given them a male heir, but Lannisters put themselves above anyone else. If they have to have you executed to keep their secret safe, they will. Never doubt that."

"I won't," Lyarra swore, her eyes turning hard. "Never again."

Author's Note: So Lyarra knows the truth about Jaime and Cersei now! Her reaction is going to be very complicated when Jaime returns, but I'm hoping it seems realistic! Next chapter Lyarra returns to Casterly Rock and Robb, Catelyn and Jaime find out she's had a son. Let me know what you think!