Homecoming

Lyarra wasted no time in leaving King's Landing. They took their time travelling back to Casterly Rock, as Lyarra was still not fully recovered from childbirth and Jon was still very fragile, being little over than two months. She sat in a carriage with her handmaiden and held her newborn son. Though she still did not feel a connection with him and sometimes just looking at Jon troubled her, Tyrion's words had put her to ease. She no longer hated herself for not falling into the role of a mother immediately. Instead, she merely tried to spend as much time with Jon as possible.

"He is so adorable, my lady," Rhea fussed over Jon, stroking his chubby cheeks with her finger and smiling down at him. Though Jon still struggled to keep his eyes open, he did his best to stare up at Rhea, smiling at her odd faces. Lyarra ignored the pang of jealousy in her stomach. Jon never smiled for her. "Oh, I think he will be very handsome."

"Yes. I do too," Lyarra replied, smiling down at her son. "I only hope that the Stark colouring is the only thing he inherited from my side of the family."

Rhea threw back her head and laughed. "Fie, my lady. Was your aunt not a great beauty? Your uncle Brandon was meant to be very handsome too. And you yourself are nothing to shrug at. I believe the little lord is very blessed to have such pretty parents."

"Aye, the Lannisters may be annoyingly stunning, but with us Starks it seems to be hit and miss. A game of luck." Lyarra laughed to herself. "Let's hope he has inherited Jaime's face. We Starks have long faces." At Rhea's tilted head and incredulous look, Lyarra elaborated, "I was lucky enough to avoid that feature. I favour my mother." She had her mother's look, but with her father's colouring. Even so, Lyarra sometimes saw more of her father in her when she looked in the mirror. It was comforting, knowing that a piece of him still existed inside of her.

"Nevertheless," Rhea replied, smiling fondly at young Jon, "I think it's safe to say that the little lion will have women fighting for his attention when he's older."

"And I will have to fight them all off," Lyarra joked. She grinned at her little boy and, much to her delight, she received a smile back. Lyarra beamed and pressed her lips to his forehead. It was moments like these where she felt like a normal mother, a mother who had no trouble at all loving her children. It will come with time, she promised herself. Just as Lord Tyrion said.

"Look, it's the Lady Lannister!"

Having been lost in thought as she stared down at her young son, Lyarra's trance was interrupted by a woman's yelling. She handed Jon to Rhea and looked outside the carriage window, finding many lowborn men and women lining the streets. They scowled at her, some even shouted profanities. Lyarra saw many gaunt peasants lying on the ground. Some she suspected were dead. She gulped, guilt filling her.

"I buried my baby because of you!" one woman cried. She was covered in dirt and wore ripped clothes. "To pay for your stupid mine!"

"What are they talking about?" Rhea asked Lyarra, trying to soothe Jon as he wailed.

Lyarra pressed her lips together in a thin line and frowned. Tears gathered in her eyes, blurring her vision. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to keep her voice steady as she replied, "I had to raise taxes to rebuild the mines at Castamere. This is the result, it seems." She turned to look at the villagers, gaunt and dirty and starving. She began to weep. What would Father think of me? Why did I not think of this? Stupid, stupid girl.

She wept all the way back to Casterly Rock, the sight of starving people – a tragedy she herself had caused – made her feel incomparable guilt. When the carriage stopped outside of Casterly Rock, having climbed up the enormous hill, Lyarra forced herself to wipe her tears away and push back her emotions. She took Jon from Rhea and stepped outside the carriage.

Genna, Peckledon and Maester Creylen greeted her as soon as she entered the keep. Genna immediately fussed over Jon. She took a good look at him and smiled. "He is a Stark, to be true. My niece did not treat you too unkindly, I hope."

She could not help the bitter smile that came upon her lips. "She told Maester Pycelle to stop trying treating my childbed fever."

Jaime's aunt replied with scowl. Lyarra took some joy in the fact that even Cersei's kin disliked her and knew her for the cruel monster she was. "That certainly sounds like Cersei," Genna said. She forced a smile on her face. "But despite her attempts, here you are, as healthy as ever. And with a son! Good gods, it is a fine year for House Lannister!"

And what of House Stark? She tried to hide the pain she felt at Genna's words. After all, House Lannister was only so victorious because they had put down her maiden house and put a bastard on the throne. Jaime's son. The truth was still foreign to her, and painful to think of. She pushed aside those painful thoughts and put a smile on her face. "I have Lord Tyrion to thank for that. He threatened Pycelle."

"Good on him," Genna replied. Lyarra could hear the anger in her voice. "Tywin will not be happy when he hears about how you were treated, rest assured of that. I wrote to him the day you left. I expect a reply from him any day now, and Cersei ought to expect a harsh scolding from her lord father."

That caused Lyarra to smile widely. She moved on to greet the other two members of the household that had come to greet her. Maester Creylen inclined his head towards and smiled down at her son. "My lady. You ought to be congratulated on your son. He is a strong boy, I trust?"

"I think so," Lyarra replied. She laughed. "He has a fine grip."

Maester Creylen laughed with her. Peckledon bowed to her. "Lady Lannister."

"Lord Peckledon," she greeted and inclined her head. "You've kept Casterly Rock well in my absence." In truth, she had no idea how he performed, but if Lord Tywin trusted Peckledon, then who was she to doubt his capabilities?

"I trust you will be satisfied with our work," Peckledon informed. "We have began reparations of the mines in Castamere," he told her. "The master builder estimated that it will take seven years for the mines to become profitable."

"Can we wait that long?" Lyarra asked. The longer it took to repair the mines, the longer the tax rates would remain high. The longer the tax rates remained as they were, the more smallfolk would die – the more deaths she caused.

"With the necessary changes..." Peckledon trailed off, becoming thoughtful, before he gave his answer with a nod. "Yes. I believe so."

Lyarra nodded in agreement. Peckledon knew the finances of the Westerlands better than anyone, perhaps even better than Tywin himself. "There is something else I wish to speak with you about. I want to lower tax rates."

Vehemently, Peckledon shook his head. "My lady, I do not think that is a good idea. Most of our income now comes from taxes..."

"But we can substitute the tax coming from the poor by increasing tax rates for the wealthy. We ought to increase tax rates on merchants and lords who will not be left starving," Lyarra argued. "We travelled through many towns and villages on our way back from King's Landing. The poor are starving. They are dying because of us. We can make up the lost money."

Though reluctant, Peckledon knew that while his role was to advise, if the ruling lord or lady of Casterly Rock decided on something, it was his duty to obey. "Very well, my lady. As you wish. I will send letters to the tax collectors detailing the change. How much do you wish the tax rate to be now?"

"For the poor, ten percent. For the nobles, twenty."

"My lady-"

"No, Lord Peckledon," Lyarra interrupted, raising her palm to stop him from speaking anymore. On this, she could not be swayed. She was determined. "My mind is made up."

She could see the reluctance etched on his face. He scowled and bit his tongue, inclining his head respectfully towards his acting liege lord. "As you wish."

A few days after her return to Casterly Rock, Lyarra surprised the household of Casterly Rock by overseeing a meeting. Lyarra couldn't for the life for understand why – had she not always been efficient when it came to organising meetings? What was with the sudden change? Now that she was a mother, it seemed as though everyone expected her to crawl into some sort of box. Or into the nursery, more like.

"My lords," she greeted as the men stood up to greet her and Genna. She noticed Peckledon sharing a meaningful look with the castellan, Ser Willem Lannister, that did not go unnoticed by Lyarra. She narrowed her eyes at them, about to give into her anger, before sense struck her and she merely expressed her rage with a huff. "We have much to discuss."

"Indeed we have," Ser Willem agreed. He shared another look with Peckledon. Lyarra clenched her fists in her skirts, her knuckles going white. "My lady, Lord Peckledon just informed me that you wish to make some... rather drastic actions."

Lyarra raised an eyebrow. "Drastic actions?"

"Increasing the rate of tax on the nobility is cause for outrage amongst the most powerful – perhaps even cause for uprising. My lady, we are at war. We can't afford any kind of dispute at the moment," Ser Willem explained.

"So what do you suggest, ser? Allow the smallfolk to die of hunger so the rich can fill their bellies with the finest fruit from the gods know where? You are right. We are at war. And during war it is both the rich and poor that must bear the weight of taxes, not just the poorest," Lyarra replied, eyes blazing. "And you forget, ser, that the smallfolk can revolt too. Tragedy has often struck those who treated their inferiors badly."

"Is that a threat, Lady Lannister?" The castellan was becoming short with her, his eyes narrowed and his features tight.

She merely smiled at him. "Not at all, my lord. I only wished to provide you with a valuable history lesson. What else is there to discuss?"

"A more personal matter," Peckledon interjected, a grave expression on his face, though when was the steward not serious? He seemed uncertain of what he was above to say. Lyarra braved herself for an enraging conversation. "The rest of the household... by the household, I mean the more senior members, wonder if you ought to take a break from your duties as regent and bond with your newborn son. I mean no disrespect, my lady, but perhaps your nursery duties are more important. After all, it is the future Lord of Casterly Rock you care for."

Not even when Joffrey made her kneel before him did Lyarra Stark experience such rage. Her insides boiled, her nails dug into the palms of her hands as she forced herself to not slap Peckledon for impertinence. I am a lady, not a wet nurse. The nerve of him!

She did her best to keep her tone level and spoke to them with ice in her voice that betrayed her anger. "This may come as a surprise to you all, my lords, but I do not spend all my time in the nursery and I am well able to both rule in Lord Tywin's stead and be a mother. If anyone else has anything else to say on the subject, then by all means. Speak up." She waited for a full minute for one of them to dare speak against her. When none of them did, Lyarra continued on. "Shall we continue?"

The meeting only lasted another half an hour before the tension and unresponsiveness from the other lords became too much for Lyarra. As soon as she returned to her chambers, a messenger came from Harrenhal, bearing a letter. Lord Tywin of House Lannister, it read. Curious, Lyarra ripped open the letter and read its contents.

The Old Lion spent most of the letter praising her for having a son, as though that was her only accomplishment. Is that all I am to these people – just another broodmare? She pushed back her thoughts and continued to read the letter, noticing how Tywin spoke very little of her leadership. Here I am, breaking my back in trying to be a good leader and make sure the Westerlands does not fail while you are gone, and you can only praise me for my womb?! It sickened her in truth and made her wonder why she put herself through such stress when she would receive no reward. Then it dawned on her. Perhaps she had become a little too fond of power.

Sighing, Lyarra threw the letter onto the table and sat back in her chair. What kind of a family had she married into? Lord Tywin was cruel and calculating, but efficient and a brilliant leader. For that, Lyarra couldn't help but admire him. Cersei... Lyarra couldn't find anything good about Cersei. Though she does love her children fiercely. There is some redemption in that. Lyarra blinked away tears, promising herself that she would eventually love Jon as a mother should. It did her no good to loath herself for something she couldn't control, to feel envy towards Cersei for something so small.

Then there was Tyrion, the only normal Lannister in Lyarra's eyes. Though even he had a malicious streak. There was something dark in Tyrion. Even if he had been kind to her, Lyarra was not ignorant to the fact that had she gotten on her bad side, Tyrion would be no less brutally efficient in dealing with her than his lord father.

And Jaime... her lord husband. She could have loved him, had she remained ignorant of his relationship with Cersei. They could have been happy. Everything had changed now, though. When he returned – if he returned – Lyarra knew that things wouldn't be able to go back to how they were before, not when she thought he had done that with his sister. The mere thought made Lyarra shudder involuntarily. I could forget. I could pretend Lord Baelish never told me anything. Wouldn't we all be the better for it? Lyarra was conflicted. She shook her head, pushing away such thoughts, though one still remained. How could she be sure Baelish was telling the truth? Perhaps he was lying... but what did he have to gain?

There was only one way to find out. Lyarra jumped out of her chair and marched down the hall. Without waiting to be announced, Lyarra barged into Genna's chambers. Her husband's aunt looked at her with wide, shocked eyes. "Lyarra? Whatever is the matter?"

"I have to speak with you about something."

"And it could not have waited until morning?" Genna asked tiredly. Her eyes had bags under them.

"No," was all Lyarra said in response. Her voice was steely. Immediately, Genna's attention was grabbed and she was wide away.

The older woman sat down in front of the fire and gestured to the seat in front of her. "Well then. Sit."

Lyarra sat down in front of Genna. Do I even want to know? She asked herself before she spoke. How can I stand not knowing? Her mind was made up. She took in a shaky, deep breath before speaking. "While I was in King's Landing, I heard some rumours."

"That's not surprising, my dear," Genna replied, a small smile on her lips. "They say all sorts of things in King's Landing." Noticing that Lyarra was not sharing in her light humour, Genna's smile was quickly replaced by a frown. "Yet what you heard seems to have troubled you."

"It has," Lyarra admitted. She licked her lips and decided it was best to spit it out. "Are Jaime and Cersei... together?"

"How do you mean?" The look on Genna's face, the look of fear and understanding, was almost enough of an answer for Lyarra. Almost.

She sighed. "Is Jaime in love with his sister? And is Cersei in love with him? Did he father her children? Did he lay with her while he was married to me? Did he-"

"That is quite enough. Lower your voice, child," Genna chastised. Lyarra was not deterred in the slightest. Genna sighed and answered her questions. "Do you want the truth?"

"Of course I want the truth-"

"You think that now," Genna said, "but then you'll hear the truth and plead for blissful ignorance."

"I have to know," Lyarra insisted, her voice strong and steady as she looked Aunt Genna dead in the eye, with such determination that she looked ten years older.

Taken aback, Genna forced herself to look composed as she breathed in deeply, about to speak of things best left unspoken. "I'm only telling you this because you have a right to know." Lyarra nodded solemnly in response. Genna sighed. "Very well. Jaime and Cersei... have always been close. When they were children, they had to be moved to separate sides of the castle by their mother because she found them behaving... inappropriately with each other. I have reason to believe now that behaviour never did stop, despite Joanna's best efforts."

"So you didn't know that the royal children were Jaime's?" Lyarra asked, hoping that the older woman would say that she did not. Genna had been her only friend in Casterly Rock for so long, she couldn't bear the thought of Genna keeping secrets from her.

Genna tilted her head to the side, humming in thought. "I had my suspicions. But you know how it is. We like to believe the best in people until we're slapped with the truth." She gave a sorry smile and patted Lyarra's hand, noticing her niece's downtrodden face. "I know it's not what you wanted to hear, but I could not lie to you."

"I'm glad you didn't," Lyarra replied, pushing back the lump in her throat.

She gave Lyarra a pitiful look. Lyarra didn't want her pity. I want a simple life. That's all. With a husband who may or may not love me, so long as he's not in love with his sister. Was that so much to ask? "You know the truth now," Genna said, eyes narrowed at Lyarra. "What will you do with it?"

"What can I do with it?" Lyarra questioned. "I won't tell anyone – have no fear of that, lest I rob my son of a father and perhaps a mother too, for surely Joffrey would have me beheaded if I was to even utter that he was illegitimate." Lyarra scoffed. "I won't be doing anything."

"Hm," Genna said thoughtfully. Her eyes were still narrowed into slits as she observed Lyarra closely.

When she said nothing more, Lyarra stood up and gave Genna a shallow curtsy. "Thank you, Genna." The older woman gave her a short nod. Lyarra raced out of her room and into her own, her mind whirling with thoughts.

Genna was right. Lyarra wished she had never listened to Lord Baelish. She wished that she could have been more stubborn in her denial of Jaime's sins. She wished that she could forget what Baelish and Genna told her of Jaime. Now her marriage was ruined. Her future was ruined. How could any woman, even the Mother herself, get over such a slight?

When a rider came during the night and announced he was King Joffrey's messenger, Robb feared the worst. He immediately thought of his sisters. Had Joffrey thought to punish him by killing his sisters? Had he maimed them? Had he written to describe how they died or how he hurt them? His head was filled with horrible thoughts as he ripped open the letter, leaving its seal in tatters. He barely acknowledged his mother as she hounded him for information.

Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell,

It pleases me to inform you that your sister, the Lady Lannister, has given birth to a son after a long and painful birth. This has inspired me to once again reach out to you in the hope that you will put aside your stubbornness and swear fealty to me, your rightful king, in the name of kinship. Until you do so, no member of House Stark will have contact with Lady Lannister or her son.

Our houses will be joined again by my marriage to your sister, Lady Sansa. Until you bend the knee, she will remain our guest and will have no contact with you. Rest assured, we are treating her with every respect that is due to your sister.

Joffrey of House Baratheon, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men.

By the time he finished reading the letter, Robb's heart was pounding violently in his chest as his eyes only saw read. He crumbled the letter and tossed it to the floor. His mother had read the letter over his shoulder so she had no need of it either. Blinded by rage, Robb punched the wall with his hand and let out an angry grunt, at both the pain and his own frustration.

"She's given them a son," he growled as his mother sat down, her thoughts far away from him and his rants. "Whatever hope we had of getting her back is lost. They'll never let her go now."

His mother sighed and looked up at him hopelessly. Robb forgot his anger for a moment and felt only pity. She had lost two sons and now Lyarra too... it would be enough to break a lesser woman. Though they had fought much over his marriage to Jeyne, Robb found that all his anger towards her was forgotten as he looked at her. She was helpless and lost, her face was hollow and pale, her eyes tired. He couldn't find it in him to be mad.

"Be that as it may," his mother said, her voice broken, "if you were to sew for peace-"

"Never," he growled. His mother may be grieving and her grief may be the cause of her rashness, but Robb would not entertain such a ridiculous and damning notion such as peace. "This war will not end until the North is independent and I have Joffrey's head as a trophy."

"But if you were to negotiate with them," Lady Stark insisted. "Then perhaps we would get to see Lyarra again. Even just to see her and the child." Robb glared at her. "My grandson, Robb! Your nephew! You have no desire to know your own kin?"

"Of course I do, Mother!" Robb exclaimed, his voice raising involuntarily. "But he is a Lannister. He's the Kingslayer's son as well as Lya's."

"So then what?" his mother snapped, standing to her full height. She was much more intimidating now, glowering at him with such determination in her eyes Robb almost cowered. "What is your plan, Robb? How are we going to get her back?"

Robb scoffed and shook his head, smiling wryly. "Don't you see? We're not getting her back, Mother. She is theirs now. She would never leave her son," Robb replied. He stopped when he noticed the tears welling in his mother's eyes. Robb's vision blurred with tears as well, all anger leaving him. He swallowed his feelings. "I know it is difficult to accept. I want her back too, Mother. Believe me. She is my twin. We came into the world together. The thought of never seeing her again..." He felt a lump forming in his throat but pushed it down as soon as it came. "But that is war. I will not bend the knee to my father's murderer."

Catelyn sighed, her shoulders slumping as she gave into him. She smiled sadly at her son and cupped his face in her hands. "And I cannot fault you for that. Gods help me, I think I would beat you if you suggested such a thing."

Despite himself, Robb laughed, knowing that she was not lying. He perked up as an idea entered his head. "If I win the war and kill Tywin, then Lyarra's son could be installed as the Lord of Casterly Rock."

"And Ser Jaime?" his mother asked.

Robb thought about a that for moment. "Well, he would have to die as well," was his answer. "I don't think Lya was very fond of him anyway. We will get them back, Mother. All my sisters. We will see them all again."

His mother chuckled and caressed his face again. "I wish I could have your certainty, my son," she said. "Yet I find myself thinking the worst. My boys are dead. My girls in the clutches of the Lannisters. You and I are all that remains."

He pressed a kiss to his mother's forehead. "We will get the girls back and we will see Lya again. I swear it." He expected his mother to chide him on making promises he wasn't sure he could keep, but she said nothing. He stayed with her for a little while until sleep took her. Quietly, he left her tent and crossed his camp. The men bowed as he passed them, but Robb barely noticed. He only had one thing on his mind. Though he was a prisoner, the Kingslayer deserved to know of his child.

Shackled and chained, the Kingslayer looked nothing like the handsome man who had wed his sister and had threatened him in the tiltyard. Now, he looked more like a caged lion. Robb would have laughed at the pitiful sight had it not been for the rage within him. His sister – wed to this despicable man. His sister – having to bear his child. Had the Kingslayer not been a valuable hostage, Robb would have beaten him, honour be damned.

"Ah, the King in the North! Come to visit me again, I see! That's twice in one week. You are growing fond of me, I think," Jaime Lannister's drawl didn't help the situation either, yet Robb managed to restrain himself.

"You have a son, Kingslayer," he announced, wasting no time. He wanted to get this painful exchange over this as quickly as possible. He couldn't hide the venom in his voice. "Your bastard son just sent me a letter."

The Kingslayer ignored Robb's hostility as his face broke out in a massive grin. He looked genuinely pleased – and proud, too. "A son," he repeated, joy evident in his tone. "What has she named him?"

"Joffrey didn't say," Robb almost growled.

"Ah, so we are truly kin now, Stark." Robb scowled at the Kingslayer, his eyes narrowed viciously at the older man. "What, does the thought still repulse you? You can be as disgusted as you want, the fact still remains. Your sister has birthed my child, and your nephew. What an odd dynamic we have. My father is at war with you, yet he is the grandfather of your sister's... son? Yes, yes, that's right." He seemed to be working it out as he went along. The Kingslayer smiled, happy with himself. "We ought to have a celebration! Would you care to release me from my chains, just for one night? It is a rather special night, you know. It is not everyday a man becomes a father."

"Though such a day comes more often for you, it seems," Robb growled at him, like a true wolf. "You repulse me, Kingslayer. The very thought of you fathering a child on my sister repulses me. The fact that you lay with your own sister repulses me. You fathered children on her and passed them off the king. Your lack of honour repulses me."

The grin had fallen from the Kingslayer's face as Robb ranted. Robb was delighted to have had an affect on the uncaring Kingslayer. "You may stop now, if you wish. I get the point."

"Does she know?" Robb asked suddenly. He had wanted to know for quite some time. He couldn't imagine Lyarra forgiving Jaime for committing incest, yet in all of her letters before the war began Lyarra spoke fondly of Jaime.

Jaime was bewildered. "Does who know?"

"My sister," Robb replied impatiently. "Does Lyarra know that you fathered your sister's children?"

Robb's words managed to bother him again. A genuine look of guilt crossed the Kingslayer's face as silence loomed over them. After a few moments, Jaime gave a firm response. "No," he said.

"You never told her."

"The topic never came up in conversation, no."

"Be serious, Kingslayer. For once in your life," Robb chided. He had no time for games. All he wanted was to return to Jeyne and sleep in her arms. His Jeyne made everything better.

"What do you want me to say?" the Kingslayer snapped at him. "Do you honestly think that I would risk Cersei's life and her children's by telling my wife of, what, eight months, that they were mine? She would have went running off to the king and our heads would all be on spikes."

"At least you would not have dishonoured her," Robb snapped back, just as angry. "At least there would not be a bastard on the throne."

The Kingslayer laughed humourlessly. "You Starks and your honour," he mocked. "I did not tell Lyarra because I did not want my sister and her children to die because I wished to cling on to what little honour I had left."

"You had no honour," Robb responded. The more Jaime mocked him, the angrier he became. He never performed well while angry, unlike the Kingslayer who seemed to become more calculating. "Whatever about killing your king, sleeping with your sister and lying about the parentage of her children surely stained what little honour you had left."

He laughed again with just as little humour. "You are doing a brilliant job of congratulating a new father. I had expected more cheer."

"For what?" Robb asked with a humourless laugh of his own. "Any man can father a child. The question is, will you ever see him?"

His face drained of all colour, though a glare still came upon his face. "You won't kill me, Stark. I am too valuable to you. If you killed me, your sisters would lose their heads. Lyarra may be safe, but the other two are most certainly not."

Robb smirked at the chained kingslayer and said before leaving the Kingslayer alone in his cell once more, "I don't have to kill you."

Author's Note: I was blown away by the amount of reviews last chapter so thank you all for taking the time to review! Some of you were wondering why Sansa didn't visit Lyarra after she gave birth- Sansa was only allowed to be with Lyarra during the birth because of Tyrion's intervention. Joffrey and Cersei are determined to keep them apart because they're both traitors and they think they're going to plot against the crown if they're together, even Tyrion would be suspicious. I just thought it was important to address that because it was a good point and I didn't want anyone to think it was a plothole. I probably should have mentioned it somewhere, but oh well! Anyway, the next chapter should be up within the next week or two!