The Kingslayer's Wife

If Lyarra had her way, she would have returned to Casterly Rock in an instant. King's Landing made her feel on edge constantly. It was the people, to be exact, who made her constantly anxious and fearful. What made her anxiety worse was the fact that in an instant, Joffrey could order her death or her sister's death or even Jon's death – and very little could be done about it. Of course, Tywin Lannister may intervene on her behalf and he would most definitely intervene on Jon's behalf, but what if Lord Tywin was nowhere to be found and Joffrey was able to give the order without being reprimanded by his grandfather or mother first? All that power in the hands of an unpredictable, spoilt boy like Joffrey made Lyanna uneasy.

Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, was among the list of people who made Lyarra's stomach churn with worry, who made her head whirl with thoughts of betrayal and backstabbing, who seemed so duplicitous that it made Lyarra's head ache... and yet, despite all that, Lyarra had agreed to have lunch with her today. Because, once again, she had no alternative.

The part of the garden that the Tyrells now called their own was filled with the most beautiful flowers and smelled of roses. The calming noise of water running down the fountain almost succeeded in quelling Lyarra's worries. Almost.

She took a deep breath and stepped closer to the Queen of Thorns. The older woman was inspecting a bouquet of roses that didn't seem to catch her fancy and so was shouting at the poor girl who had offered them to her. The girl called Lady Olenna grandmother and looked to be near tears. Only then did Lady Olenna notice Lyarra.

"Ah, Lady Lannister!" she called, standing up to greet her.

Lyarra climbed the steps that led to where Olenna was sitting and gave the older woman a polite smile. "Lady Tyrell. It is nice to meet you."

"How lovely to hear," Lady Olenna replied, though there was a bite to her tone. "Sit, sit." She gestured to the seat opposite to her. Lyarra obliged. She noticed that Olenna's musician was the same one from the night she first met Margaery. "Ah, I take it you've met Butterbumps."

That's his name, she realised, eyeing the musician closely. Olenna had him use the same trick, playing loudly so no one could hear their conversation. Lyarra wondered what Olenna had to tell her. "Yes. He plays for Margaery often."

"You and Margaery have become very close." The Queen of Thorns narrowed her eyes at Lyarra, gauging her reaction.

"Yes, we have. I don't have many friends here in King's Landing, as you can imagine. Margaery was the first," Lyarra replied. Spending time with Margaery had turned her into a better liar and she was now much better at flattery. Despite that, Lyarra knew that Lady Olenna saw right through her.

Lady Olenna was silent for a few moments as she stared at Lyarra, as though she was sizing her up. "You're a Stark. I met your father once. He liked to get straight to the point, no frills or frivolities. I liked that about him. I counted on you being the same."

She blinked in surprise. "How do you mean?"

"I know about you and Margaery," Olenna said, making Lyarra feel like a child who had just been caught doing something bad. "I don't judge you. In Highgarden, we are much more lenient about these things. Not quite as lenient as Dorne, but we do not vomit at the thought of two girls sharing a bed. I see no harm in it. Here, however, things are much different. If someone was to find out, both of your reputations would be ruined and Tywin Lannister would have an excuse to break Margaery's betrothal to Joffrey, should he feel the desire to."

They both knew that wasn't going to happen. Lord Tywin needed the Tyrells as much as the Tyrells wanted Margaery to be queen.

"We're being careful," Lyarra insisted.

"Yes, I know. Margaery is a clever girl and you know that the repercussions will be far more severe for you than they would be for Margaery." Lyarra lowered her head and stared at her feet. She didn't even want to lie with Margaery, and yet she would be the one to suffer more for it. Lady Olenna sighed. "If I had my way, you and Margaery would not do so much as look at one another. But while Margaery is savvy, she is a creature of passion, just like her brother, and I have long since given up on trying to tame them both. All I can do is make sure that nobody finds out."

"Nobody will find out. I have told no one."

"And when your husband comes home from war?" Lady Olenna asked. "What will happen then? How will you hide your affair with Margaery from him?"

She bit her lip. She couldn't tell Margaery's grandmother than when Jaime came home and she had little use for Margaery, Lyarra would be more than willing to find a way to end their dalliance. She tried to phrase it in the best way possible. "When Jaime comes home, hiding our relationship will be a lot harder. I don't think that it will be safe for either of us."

Surprising Lyarra, Lady Olenna smiled at that. "Good. You have your sense. I don't believe Margaery is stupid enough to continue having the Kingslayer's wife as a bedmate when the Kingslayer is in the very same keep."

Lyarra let out a relieved breath at that. She hoped the Queen of Thorns didn't notice. If something happened and Jaime never came home, Margaery would be her only hope. Lyarra did not want to lose that security.

Lady Olenna moved to sit at the edge of her seat and leaned closer to Lyarra. "If anyone ever finds out, if you leave any trace of your dalliance, both you and Margaery will be disgraced, even though you both come from great houses the scorn on your names will never be removed. The only difference is that Margaery has a family to catch her when she falls. You, on the other hand, will have no one to help you up, my dear."

Her mouth suddenly became very dry again. She swallowed and tried to compose herself. "If that is all, Lady Tyrell, I promised my son that I would be back for lunch."

The Queen of Thorns flashed her a smile. "Of course. Good day, Lady Lannister."

Because of her chat with Olenna Tyrell earlier that day, Lyarra immediately started to panic when one of Lord Tywin's soldier knocked on her door and said that Lord Tywin wished to speak with her. He knows, he knows, he knows. She tried to calm herself down. How could Lord Tywin possibly know? Olenna Tyrell wouldn't have told him, knowing that her granddaughter's reputation would be tainted as well. Margaery certainly wouldn't have. So who?

She took in deep breaths. She would simply have to explain herself to her good-father and hope that he saw reason. As she walked into his solar, various different scenarios played out in Lyarra's head. In one, she was brought to the tower and executed. In another, she was separated from her son. Although her vivid imagination was brilliant when it came to making up stories for Jon, it became a curse in situations like these.

Lyarra sat down in the chair opposite Tywin. This time, her good-father did not ignore her for a good half an hour. Instead, he placed down his pen within a few seconds of her entering and narrowed his eyes at Lyarra. Like Olenna Tyrell had done earlier that day, Tywin Lannister seemed to be sizing her up.

"Do you know why I summoned you?"

She blanked, wondering if it was better to tell the truth or not. Margaery had shown her how to lie. It was time she put her new skill into practice. "No. I do not."

Lord Tywin stayed quiet, his permanent glare resting upon his face. "I am going to say this bluntly in the hope that you will return the favour," he said in his usual matter-of-fact tone. "Did you know about the Tyrell's scheme to marry your sister to Ser Loras?"

As soon as he said the words, Lyarra let out a relieved breath before she realised that conspiring behind Tywin Lannister's back was not an offense to be taken lightly either. How could he prove that she knew about it? Lyarra decided to lie about this as well.

"No, I did not. Why would the Tyrells do that?" She cursed herself for her high-pitched tone.

She swore she caught Lord Tywin rolling his eyes. "Do not test my patience, Lyarra. You're a terrible liar. So I ask you again, did you know about Ser Loras and your sister?"

Lyarra sighed and sat back in her seat. "Yes, I did."

"Conspiring against the crown is treason," he stated.

"This is hardly treason," Lyarra said, scoffing. "Sansa is not safe here. You know that. How long until the king gets bored of Margaery Tyrell and decides to take out his frustrations on my unprotected sister?"

"That is none of my concern," Tywin asserted, glaring at Lyarra.

"Well, it is mine," Lyarra shot back. She felt herself being riled up and knew that she should calm down. Lord Tywin was the head of House Lannister and far more powerful that she was. She knew this, and yet her anger would not abate. "She has been beaten and harassed by the king, over and over again, for the most stupidest of reasons!"

"She is our most valuable hostage." He laughed derisively. "We can't just bargain her away because she's not happy here."

"What good is a hostage if they're dead? Your grandson made that mistake before with my father."

"Control yourself," Tywin snapped at her. He managed to scare her into silence with a simple scowl and two harshly spoken words. "Sansa will marry Tyrion within the week." Lyarra opened her mouth to oppose, but one look from Tywin silenced her. "She must be wed to the right man. A man who will not use her claim to the North for his own benefit."

He wasn't the worst person for Sansa to marry. He was a kind man and he had a sense of humour, although Lyarra didn't think Sansa would appreciate those qualities for a very long time. She was still in love with the idea of knights and fair maidens, though the months she'd spent in King's Landing had done much to disillusion her. At least he's better than Joffrey. She set the bar low, but comparing Tyrion and Joffrey put the situation into perspective.

When it became clear that Lyarra wasn't going to say anything else, Tywin continued speaking. "If you ever go against House Lannister again, I will see to it that you are firmly reprimanded. You are a Lannister, not a Stark. Our desires are now your desires. You've done your job. You've produced an heir of Houses Lannister and Stark. We have the key to the North now. You are very much disposable."

She couldn't hide the horror Lord Tywin's words caused her to fear. Nor could she hide the fear that had been triggered inside of her. She barely heard him when he gave her leave. Her feet moved of their own accord. Before she had realised what had happened, she was in her bedroom. She shut the door behind her.

Everything hit her all at once. Her fragility, her weakness, her loneliness... how unimportant she was. She felt so, so weak. Her legs gave in from under her and she slid down the door, sobbing relentlessly. She hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed into her legs. She wanted her mother to comfort her. She wanted her father to tell her that everything was alright. She wanted Robb to cheer her up in the way that only he could. He was her twin, her other half, and for all she knew, she would never see him again.

"Mother?" Oh, fuck. She looked up to see Jon toddling towards her, looking confused as he took in the sight of his mother curled into a ball on the ground. "Why are you upset?"

Because I am nothing. I mean nothing to anyone but you. It was times like these that she realised Jon was her only reason to live. The only person worth living for. Lyarra wiped her eyes and noticed his nurse had followed him. She shot the woman a glare as she rose to her feet and smoothed her skirts.

"Leave us," she ordered the woman harshly.

The nurse made an indignant noise, but did as she was told. Lyarra smiled at Jon and held his hand, leading him to the chair by the fire. She pulled him onto her lap and hugged him. "You needn't worry about me, my love. I'm fine."

"Why were you sad?"

Lyarra struggled to find an answer for him. Instead, she kissed his forehead. "I'm not sad anymore. You made me happy again," she told him simply.

Jon nodded, his eyes becoming heavy with sleep. He fell asleep in her arms.

Lyarra felt sick to her stomach. She wasn't a particularly vain person, yet seeing her once naive little sister marrying a man that was half her height and a Lannister did not sit right with her. Sansa deserved to marry a handsome knight, just as she always wanted. That had been stolen from her by the very family she was about to marry into, the very family Lyarra was already apart of.

As she watched Sansa walk down the aisle with none other than King Joffrey as her escort, Lyarra mused on how strange their lives had become. Only little more than two years ago, they were at home in Winterfell. Lyarra was unmarried and Sansa was still her annoyingly naive little sister who dreamed of southern knights and knew all the southern songs off by heart.

"She looks oretty," Jon whispered against Lyarra's ear, covering his mouth with his hand. Even though he knew little about his mother's and aunt's situation, he understood enough to know that they all had to be careful.

"She does," Lyarra replied.

Her eyes were glued to her little sister as Joffrey handed her over to Tyrion Lannister. Sansa stood and waited for Tyrion to place his house's cloak upon Sansa's shoulders. From how tense Sansa's shoulders were, Lyarra could tell that Sansa knew Tyrion wouldn't be able to put the cloak on her. She was far too tall for him. She was doing this on purpose, her last act of defiance. Lyarra would have applauded her, if Sansa wasn't humiliating the only tolerable member of House Lannister.

Eventually, however, Sansa lowered herself onto her knees and allowed Tyrion to cloak her. The procession from then on was rather boring, filled with vows and oaths. Lyarra remembered her own wedding and how frightened she had been. Compared to Sansa's situation – being forced to marry a man from the family who murdered their father – Lyarra's wedding was a dream. At least the war between Houses Lannister and Stark came after her wedding and she wasn't forced to marry Jaime, even if she had little choice in the matter.

After the wedding, Lyarra wanted to find Sansa and comfort her, but she never got the chance. She got into the wheelhouse she'd arrived in and pulled Jon onto her lap. Only a few seconds after she had chosen her wheelhouse, the queen saw it fit to join her inside of it. Lyarra groaned internally.

"Sister," Cersei greeted, wearing a broad smile that reeked of smugness. Lyarra forced herself to smile back. "Sansa looked very beautiful today, didn't she?"

"Yes, she looked magnificent."

Cersei's smile turned cold and mocking. "It was a pity you couldn't help her get ready for her wedding, but you know how things are. We have to be cautious."

She forced the smile to stay on her face as she nodded. "Of course, Your Grace."

"I don't believe I've properly seen your son since he was only a baby," Cersei commented, sitting on the edge of her seat so she could be closer to Jon. She pinched his cheek. Jon merely stared at his aunt with a confused look on his face. "He's precious. Although it's unfortunate he doesn't look more like Jaime."

"Really? I think he's very handsome," Lyarra replied, looking at her son fondly.

The queen watched her carefully, disdain flashing in her green eyes as she looked between Lyarra and Jaime's son. Lyarra was reminded once again of Cersei and Jaime's relationship. Of how the woman in front of her was not only her good-sister, but her husband's lover and the mother of his children. The thought made vomit rise up her throat.

"Your sister's beauty has been wasted on my brother. Such a shame. She could have done so much better." There was a looseness in Cersei's demeanour that made Lyarra wonder if the queen was drunk.

"I'm sure Lord Tyrion will be a good husband to her," Lyarra said. Better than your son, she wanted to say, for that was the only thing Lyarra knew for certain.

At that, Cersei threw her head back and laughed derisively. "You're funny. Jaime never told me you were funny." She bit her lower lip and looked at Lyarra like she was stupidest thing in the world. "You don't honestly believe that my whoring, drunken letch of a brother will be in any way decent to your little sister." Cersei scoffed. "You're even stupider than I thought." Lyarra stayed silent and stared at her hands. "He will continue to drink. He will continue to fuck as many women as he pleases. Because he knows no better. He has no control over himself and his urges."

Lyarra bit her tongue. "I don't know Lord Tyrion well enough to make a judgement."

"You can see how small he is. That should be enough. Do you honestly believe he will be able to satisfy your sister with his tiny cock?" Cersei asked, her voice taking on a tone of mocking.

She wished she could cover Jon's ears, but that would have been insulting to the queen. So she kept her expression as uncaring as she could until they arrived at Red Keep. She almost jumped out of the wheelhouse, not waiting for Cersei to join her. She went to the Great Hall with Jon on her hip and sat in the seat assigned to her.

Sansa's wedding was not as grand as hers had been, given that Lyarra's marriage was to the heir of House Lannister and not nearly as rushed as Sansa's was. Again, Lyarra lamented over how Sansa deserved so much better. If their father was alive, she would have been married to a man who deserved her. She would have had a wedding that befitted her station with her friends and family present.

Instead, her wedding reception was comprised of the same southern nobles who had done nothing as Joffrey had her stripped and beaten. Lyarra despised them all.

Five courses later, Lyarra's stomach was bloated from all the food. She forced herself to sit up straight, even though she wanted nothing more than to slouch and belch. She watched Tyrion drink his way through two and a half goblets – almost three now – and Sansa look at her new husband with distaste. Lyarra didn't blame her. Tyrion's behaviour was rather disgusting.

She noticed Sansa standing up and leaving the Great Hall to get some air. Lyarra looked to Joffrey, who was ranting about something to his mother, and then to Tywin, who was scolding Tyrion. Seeing that the three people who would reprimand her were occupied, Lyarra lifted Jon into her arms and followed Sansa outside the Great Hall.

"Sansa," she whispered. Sansa spun around, a frightened look on her face that quickly morphed into one of relief and joy when she saw Lyarra. Lyarra wrapped one of her arms around Sansa and embraced her tightly. "Oh, Sansa, I'm so sorry. I didn't think this would happen."

"Nor did I," Sansa replied. She gave Lyarra a rueful smile. "It seems as though we are both Lannisters now." She said the word as though it was a curse. Had it not been for her son, Lyarra would have agreed with Sansa. "Hello Jon," Sansa cooed, her smile becoming kinder as she looked at her young nephew. "I'm your aunt Sansa." Jon smiled back at her with a toothy grin. Sansa's eyes became teary. "Oh, he is the image of Father!"

Lyarra rubbed Sansa's arm in an attempt to comfort her. "I wish I could have done something."

Sansa wiped her eyes and shook her head. "This isn't your fault. This is all them."

"Better Tyrion than Joffrey," Lyarra pointed out. She glanced across the hall at Sansa's husband, who seemed rather determined to be as drunk as possible before the bedding ceremony. "He might not be the most pleasing to look at, but at least he won't hurt you."

"Oh, I would surely take Tyrion over him any day," Sansa stated. "He's just... not..." She struggled to find the right words, so Lyarra gave them to her.

"Not what you pictured your future husband to look like."

"You think I'm shallow," Sansa replied.

"No, of course I don't!" Lyarra assured her younger sister. When she was Sansa's age, she would have thought the very same. In the past two years, Lyarra had realised that the worst monsters were the pretty ones. "Most women would think the same way."

"Do you think he will make me..."

Lyarra understood what she was implying immediately. She blinked, struggling to find an answer that was both truthful and gentle. "I'm not sure. Lord Tywin has probably told him to and it takes a lot of bravery to disobey Tywin Lannister."

She wrung her braid and groaned in frustration. "And to think, I was almost happily married to Loras Tyrell."

"You don't know for certain that your marriage would have been a happy one," Lyarra stated. She tried not to pay much attention to rumours, but many people believed that Ser Loras preferred the company of men over women. One prominent rumour Lyarra kept hearing was that Ser Loras was in love with Renly Baratheon.

"But Ser Loras is a knight!" Sansa insisted.

"Ser Jaime is a knight as well and I am by no means overwhelmingly happy," Lyarra said snappishly. Seeing her sister's wounded expression, Lyarra was quick to apologise. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. Not today, anyway."

Sansa opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, she spotted something behind Lyarra that caused panic to mar her face. "Oh no, the king," she whispered, frightened. Lyarra looked behind her and spotted Joffrey. She threw her head back slightly and groaned. Just her luck.

"Lady Sansa, dear aunt," he greeted them with a smug smile for each of the two Stark sisters.

"Your Grace," they greeted in unison, curtsying to the king.

"Imagine my surprise to find you two traitors huddled in a corner," Joffrey stated, looking delighted to have found them speaking together. He loved to punish people more than any other of his kingly duties. It seemed to Lyarra that Jaime had killed one mad king and fathered another.

"Not traitors, Your Grace," Lyarra corrected, earning herself a harsh glare from the king. "But rather the daughters of a traitor." As much as it pained her to insult her father like that, she knew the king would lash out if he wasn't given some sort of satisfaction.

"It doesn't matter," Joffrey dismissed with a wave of his hand. "You two are supposed to be separated lest you get any silly ideas. Defying my orders is treason. Or do you both have a death wish? What a pity it would be to leave my beloved cousin without a mother." He pinched Jon's cheek too harshly, causing Jon to sob. "Make him shut up!" the king commanded.

Lyarra tried to calm Jon by bouncing him on her hip, but because of his sore cheek and the glare Joffrey was giving him, Jon wouldn't calm down. "My apologies, Your Grace. I only wanted to wish Sansa well and congratulate her on her wedding."

He threw his head back and cackled. "Congratulate her? On what? Marrying a dwarf – what a feat indeed!" Jon continued to cry. The king finally snapped, "Keep that child quiet or I swear to all the gods I will quieten him myself!"

She couldn't bring herself to reply. Her mouth was dry and her heart beat had quickened to an unnatural rate. She could handle her life being threatened, but the minute he threatened Jon's, Lyarra felt as though she couldn't breathe.

"It's alright, Lya," Sansa was the one ot speak. "You go and calm him." She gave Lyarra a reassuring smile.

Though she was reluctant to leave Sansa alone with Joffrey, Lyarra was genuinely afraid that Joffrey might hurt Jon if he continued to cry, so she curtsied to the king and gave Sansa one last pitiful smile before leaving them. She sat in her assigned place, beside where Lord Tywin was supposed to be, and pulled Jon onto her lap.

"He s-s-scares me," Jon sobbed into her chest.

"I know. I know," she replied, stroking his hair to soothe him. "He scares me too, but you have to be careful around him. No crying next time. No matter what he does or says."

"I c-c-can't help it," he hiccuped.

"I know," she responded, rubbing his back. "I know."

Just as she had succeeded in calming Jon, Joffrey appeared on the balcony. He clapped his hands, a terrifyingly delightful look on his face. When Joffrey was happy, it meant someone was going to suffer. "Time for the bedding ceremony!" he announced happily.

"There will be no bedding ceremony," came Tyrion's voice. He wore a tone that commanded no arguments, yet Joffrey was the king and delighted in arguing with anyone.

Joffrey grabbed Sansa's hand and dragged her down the stairs, towards the head table. "Where's your respect for tradition, Uncle? Come, everyone. Pick her up and carry her to her wedding bed. Get rid of her gown." He gestured to Sansa, grinning madly as Sansa crossed her arms over her chest in a futile attempt to protect herself. "She won't be needing it any longer. Ladies, attend to my uncle. He's not heavy."

Tyrion leaned over the table, still sitting, an enraged expression on his face as he repeated himself, "There will be no bedding ceremony."

The king was dancing on the balls of his feet, overly excited at the thought of humiliating both his former betrothed and his hated uncle with one bedding ceremony. "There will be if I command it."

Lord Tyrion grabbed the room's attention once again when he stabbed the table with a knife, shocking everyone including the king. He glared at Joffrey with such rage that it even frightened the king. "Then you'll be fucking your own bride with a wooden cock."

For the first time, Joffrey seemed to be shocked into silence. "What did you say?" he asked his uncle, his voice quiet with shock before he became enraged. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" The king was seething and panting with anger as he glowered at his uncle.

"I believe we can dispense with the bedding, Your Grace," Tywin called, trying to ease the tension. "I'm sure Tyrion did not mean to threaten the king."

As a variety of emotions flashed across Tyrion's face – anger, then reluctance, and then humour – Tyrion broke the tension when he started to laugh. He pointedly removed his hand from the handle of the knife, his laughter becoming louder and more merry. "A bad joke, Your Grace. Made out of envy of your own royal manhood. Mine is so small." He sat back and thrust out his pelvis, pouting as he looked down at the fabric hiding his manhood. "My poor wife won't even know I'm there."

"Your uncle is clearly quite drunk, Your Grace," Tywin said. Lyarra noticed that his expression displayed equal parts disgust and respect. Tyrion was obviously acting a lot drunker than he actually was.

"I am. Guilty." He took another sip of wine before getting up from his seat. "But– but it is my wedding night. My tiny drunk cock and I have a job to do." He stumbled down and smashed into a table, wiping his wine-stained mouth as he did so. He went to Sansa and gestured for her follow him out of the Great Hall. "Come, wife. I vomited on a girl once in the middle of the act. Not proud of it. But I think honesty is important between a man and wife, don't you agree? Come, I'll tell you all about it. Put you in the mood."

She watched Sansa and Tyrion leave the Great Hall, hearing Tyrion's little story on their way out. The silence that followed their exit didn't last long, and the Great Hall was soon filled with gossiping and laughter. Lyarra looked down at her son and noticed that Jon was fast asleep. She smiled and smoothed his hair out of his face, only looking up when she heard footsteps approaching her.

"I suggest you take your leave before Joffrey decides to protect his frustration onto a different Stark girl," Tywin warned.

Lyarra glanced towards the young king from the opposite end of the hall. He was chatting angrily to his mother, no doubt about what a disobedient letch his uncle was. Cersei was nodding in agreement, scarcely getting a word in. Lyarra turned her attention back to Tywin and nodded. She lifted Jon into her arms and carried him to their bedroom. Lyarra didn't bother getting dressed into her nightgown. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was sound asleep.

Author's Note: So... next chapter is Jaime's return and Lyarra gets some bad news. I'm halfway through the chapter as it is so I'll be updating next Monday or earlier. Again, thanks for all of your reviews! I will appreciate them!