All That Matters

Two days after Joffrey was killed at his own wedding, Jaime was summoned to his father's solar by a scrawny boy with blonde hair. Knowing there was no use in arguing – Jaime hadn't been in much of a mood to be lectured by his father – the Lannister heir pushed aside his reluctance and walked to Tywin Lannister's quarters, like a man walking to the scaffold.

He sat on the seat opposite his father, not even receiving a greeting of any sorts. His father fixed him with a scowl, with narrowed eyes that looked as though they knew and had seen everything. Jaime met his stare evenly, trying to seem unperturbed.

"Your wife has ran away," Tywin stated after a long while of silence. "Just after our king was killed."

"What a coincidence," Jaime replied, sarcasm laced in his tone. Any fool could understand her reasons – or his, rather. He remembered Lyarra's reaction to Joffrey's death. She had been shocked into standing still, rooted to the spot, even when he urged her to run. Or perhaps she had fooled them all and was a better actress than he gave her credit for.

"You let her go," Tywin accused. "I saw you. Regardless of how distressed you were over Joffrey's death, you had to attend to her first. One might even think you were the one that gave her leave."

"So what if I did?" Jaime responded, having had enough of the mind games.

"So what if you did?" Tywin repeated, his disapproval accentuated by a humourless scoff. "That girl could have committed regicide. She had the motive. No one can deny it. You allowed a suspect in the king's murder to escape. That's what you did, Jaime. But once again, you acted without thinking about consequences."

Jaime sat up in his seat. "Chastise me all you like. But let me ask you this, what do you think Cersei would have done to her had she stayed? It wouldn't have mattered if she was innocent or not."

"Do you think she did it?" Tywin asked him without missing a beat. As soon as Jaime brought up his wife's possible role in Joffrey's murder, his father was on him immediately.

"Are you asking me if I think my wife murdered Joffrey?" My son? He almost said, but even he wasn't stupid enough to make such a big slip-up. Jaime tried to sound as though the idea was so preposterous that he hadn't even considered it, but he had considered it. Often.

Lyarra had changed. She was darker than the girl he married, more hateful and angry. She had every right to be, of course, after all that had happened to her family, but the woman she was now was a lot more likely to commit murder than the frightened, kind girl he wed.

"Yes," Tywin answered sternly, ignoring his false tone of disbelief. Jaime pressed his lips together. When he asked himself whether he thought she was capable of killing Joffrey, Jaime tried to come up with reasons why she wouldn't. But the truth was, he knew that if she could get away with it, Lyarra would have killed Joffrey without a second thought. When he neglected to respond, his father continued to speak. "Joffrey may have been a terrible king and a monstrous boy, but he was still a Lannister. We don't allow the death of one of our own to go unpunished."

"Lyarra is carrying my child – a Lannister," he reminded his father, who seemed to have forgotten. "She is mother to my son – another Lannister. Whether she did it or not, I couldn't put her at risk."

"You like her."

He blinked, unsure of how to respond. The question took him by surprise. He was expecting another accusation, another scolding perhaps, but this... this almost sounded like understanding. He licked his lips before responding. "I am fond of her," he admitted.

His father huffed. "Very well. I'll have some of our men sent after her and... what's that woman's name again?"

"Brienne," Jaime answered. He had nodded to Brienne after Lyarra fled with their son, urging her to follow and protect Lyarra and Jon. She was the only person he could trust, the only person who was more loyal to him and Lyarra than his father or sister.

"Yes," his father replied. "I'll have them sent after her to make sure Casterly Rock is where she's heading."

Jaime nodded, grateful that his father wasn't sending guards to drag her back to King's Landing. "Thank you, Father."

Without so much as another word, his father dismissed him with a nonchalant wave.

"How long do we have to go now, do you think?" Lyarra asked Brienne as they mounted their horses once again.

They had been riding for six days and were in the southern riverlands, having just passed Acorn Hall. Lyarra's thighs ached from being on horseback all the time and she longed for proper food. They had eaten nothing but berries and badly cooked meat since they left King's Landing. Jon kept getting sick and Lyarra was struggled to keep down her food. Her pregnancy certainly didn't help. She found the food in King's Landing sickening as it was, but eating undercooked rabbits in the wild made her want to violently hurt.

But it was the best they had for now, so Lyarra put her reservations aside and ate the food without complaint. Her cooking skills had improved in the last few days. They could no longer see the veins in the meat and blood no longer oozed from the animal's skin.

"A week, I believe. Perhaps less if we can make a good pace," Brienne replied as she urged her horse into a trot.

They spent the day riding. Lyarra occupied herself by listening to Jon's amusing babbling and when he fell asleep, she became occupied by her own thoughts. She doubted Cersei or Lord Tywin would let her escape King's Landing without any form of punishment, or even a warning. She hoped Jaime would stand up for her, though against Cersei it was unlikely.

It was dark and cold when they had the misfortune to come across a river. She believed it to be the river that ran from Riverrun to Pinkmaiden and ended at the Golden Tooth. They were near the Westerlands at least, even if they still had a while to go. They just had to cross the river first.

She looked to Brienne for an explanation of how they were going to cross. Brienne had a thoughtful expression on her face, eyes narrowed at the river and her lips pressed together in a frown. She was as irritated by the presence of the river as Lyarra was.

"We should see if the river becomes shallow down stream so we can cross atop the horses," Brienne suggested.

Having no other suggestion, Lyarra nodded and followed Brienne down the stream. Jon was snoring against her chest, blissfully asleep while all this was happening. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling it to be cold and clammy. She then felt his forehead with the back of her hand and bit her lip, worry twisting in her stomach. This was not the time for him to get sick. She wrapped her cloak around him and brought him closer to her chest, doing all she could to keep him warm.

"This is as shallow as it gets I think," Brienne stated. "It's narrower too."

"The water's going very...quickly," she stated, unsure of what language river-people used to describe the quick flow of the river. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Brienne?"

"It's the quickest way, my lady. The longer we scale the countryside with little protection, the more we put ourselves at risk. The sooner I get you to Casterly Rock, the better," Brienne said. She waited for Lyarra's consent. Still unsure, Lyarra frowned but gave her protector a short nod. Brienne urged her horse forward and into the river.

The water engulfed the horse's legs. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she urged her horse forward as well. The harsh current of the river made the black mare unsteady. Lyarra gripped the reigns tighter.

"Mother?" she heard Jon say, his voice disorientated and confused from sleep. He turned around to look at her, wide-eyed. "What-"

"Hush, everything is going to be fine. We just have to get across this river and we'll be nearly home," Lyarra told him, trying to keep her voice steady even though the horse was not and she herself was internally panicking. "You'll have to be brave for me. Can you?"

He took a few seconds to answer and when he did, he gave her a short nod and gripped onto her body tighter. Lyarra closed her eyes for a quick moment and willed herself to be brave too. She felt the horse's hoof step on a rock beneath the water, causing her entire body to shake as they very nearly fell into the water again.

Brienne stayed at her side and gave her an encouraging nod, seeing her distress. The female knight didn't look too calm either, her body was stiff and her eyes were wide and alert. Lyarra gulped and allowed her horse to continue stepping through the river. They were half way now, but it seemed the wind was getting worse and causing the flow of the river to become faster.

Once again, the mare placed her hoof in the wrong place and seemed to get it caught in weeds underneath the water. Before she realised what was happening, Lyarra felt herself being thrust off the saddle and let out a scream. She heard nothing but Brienne calling her name and the whooshing of the water as her head hit the ground.

She saw red colour the river and realised with a start that it was not just her blood. She saw Jon only a few feet away from her, his head split open and oozing blood, and rushed towards him, realising with a start that he was not awake. She picked him up and struggled to stand, her entire body shaking. She gasped for breath and looked up at Brienne with a frightened expression before she looked down at her son again. He was breathing too, but just barely.

Brienne jumped down off her horse and took Jon from her, carrying him carefully in her arms. "We're nearly there, my lady. We'll tend to him when we get to the other side."

Too shocked to speak, Lyarra nodded mutely and grabbed the reigns of the horses, leading them to shore. She couldn't lose Jon. He was all she had. She felt tears rush to her eyes but refused to let them fall. He wasn't going to die. There was no need for tears. She wouldn't let him die.

Her wet dress dragged behind her and stuck to her skin and she struggled to get to land. Once they were out of the river, Brienne laid him across Lyarra's lap. She ripped the end of her expensive pale red dress without a thought and pressed the cloth against Jon's wound. Brienne pressed her fingers against his throat.

"He's still alive and breathing," Brienne assured her. "We'll bring him to the Golden Tooth and have their maester tend to him."

Lyarra stared at her son, his face covered in his own blood, and felt her heart rip in two. She glanced up at Brienne briefly and nodded her head. What else could they do? As much as she loathed to see Lord Lefford again, it was their only option. Lyarra wasn't going to let her son die because of her stupid pride.

Jon stayed asleep for the entire journey, his bleeding head pressed against Lyarra's chest. Her dress was covered in her son's blood, her hair was drenched in it, but Lyarra could think of nothing but getting him to the Golden Tooth.

By the time they arrived, it was morning.

Lord Lefford's young bride recognised her. Startled by the sight of her bloodied lady carrying the bloodied heir to Casterly Rock, Lady Lefford remained speechless as she stood aside and let Lyarra into her home. She brought them to the maester immediately.

"Lady Lannister-"

"He's dying," Lyarra said, unable to hold in her tears or keep her voice from shaking. "Please. Save my son."

The maester stared at her, speechless. "Of course, my lady. I'll do all I can," he replied and rushed to her son's side. Lyarra kneeled beside the table where her son was laid and brushed his hair behind his ear on the side of his head that the cut wasn't on. She teared up and prayed silently to the Mother. Don't let him die don't let him die don't let him die. She prayed over and over, reciting the same words. It was stupid, that she knew. His fate was in the hands of the maester that tended to him, not in the hands of any invisible god.

"My lady, your head," Lady Lefford pointed out as she approached Lyarra with a cloth.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine," she assured the girl.

"Still, it might get infected. May I?" she asked, waiting for Lyarra's consent. Deciding that it wouldn't do her any harm, Lyarra nodded and allowed the girl to place the hot cloth on her head. Lady Lefford washed the blood off her face as well with cautious, gentle hands. "I don't think you'll need stitches. It looks narrow enough and not that deep. You got lucky, my lady."

"Thank you," Lyarra said once the girl was done. She hadn't thought of taking care of herself. The girl had a kind heart. She didn't deserve to be married to someone like Lord Lefford.

"It's no problem at all," Lady Lefford replied with a kind, gentle smile.

The maester was sewing Jon's wound closed after cleaning away all the blood and dirt. Lyarra watched him carefully, whispering quiet reassurances into Jon's ear. She wasn't sure if Jon could even hear her, but if he did, then at least he'd know that his mother was still with him.

"Well?" Lyarra asked the maester when he was finished.

He turned to her as he cleaned his needle and scalpel. "He will live," the maester declared. Lyarra let out a sigh of relief and smiled, pressing her forehead against her son's shoulder. "His wound isn't infected and he didn't lose enough blood to be worried about that..."

She could hear the silent 'but' at the end of his sentence. "What is it?"

Sighing, the maester placed his equipment in his drawer and looked at her gravely. "There may be... considerable damage to his brain. We don't know enough about such matters to make a conclusive diagnosis."

"What do you mean 'considerable damage'?"

"I mean..." the maester began again, looking for the best way to say it. "Large wounds to the head often have bad consequences. He will live, there's no doubt about that, and his physicality will not be affected at all, but his general intelligence might not be up to par." Lyarra gave him a look, urging him to explain further. "He may not be very clever. I don't know the extent, but he most certainly will not as intelligent as other children his age."

"So he will be dumb?"

"Again, I'm not sure of the extent."

"Lady Lannister!" she heard a man yell and stiffened, knowing right well who it was. "I didn't know you were visiting us!"

"Lord Lefford," Lyarra replied, gritting her teeth together. "Forgive me for not sending word. It wasn't exactly a planned visit. We were on our way back from King's Landing when my son had a fall. Your maester was kind enough to tend to him."

"It's odd that the Lady of Casterly Rock is returning from the capital without a retinue of guards to protect her, only a woman," he spat the word like it was curse.

Lyarra glared at him. "Brienne of Tarth is more than capable of protecting us."

"Obviously not. Since your son nearly died," the man declared gleefully. Lyarra flinched and tried to hide how his words affected her. Lefford obviously noticed as a grin crossed his lips. "I should have been informed that Lady Lannister was here," he said to his wife, who became wide-eyed and frightened.

"Forgive me, my lord–I forgot–it all happened so fast–there was no time..." she stuttered in response, staring at the ground.

"No time to inform the lord of the keep that someone had come to his keep?" Lefford scoffed. "I am a loyal bannerman of House Lannister. I deserve to be informed when the heir of House Lannister comes to my doorstep wounded."

"Hardly loyal," Lyarra muttered underneath her breath.

"What did you say?" Lefford asked her, his voice filled with rage as he glowered at her.

Lyarra met his glare evenly, an innocent smile on her lips as she replied, "Nothing. I only thanked the Mother for how gracious you are in lending us the service of your brilliant maester."

"And I will lend you nothing more," Lord Lefford stated. "Leave," he growled at her.

"No, you can't. He-he has to rest!" Lyarra insisted, regretting her sharp tongue and her petty insults. "He- he could die! Lord Lefford, please! I'm sorry for any way I've wronged you in the past, but please, please, help us!"

Lord Lefford grinned at her and stepped closer, glaring down at her kneeling form like she was vermin. "You will leave, now, or I will bring you back to King's Landing myself. I know about King Joffrey's death. Someone murdered him – only a fortnight after the Red Wedding. You're a suspect in the murder of our king. What Cersei Lannister would do to you." He chuckled. "Your choice."

"You're no friend of mine," Lyarra said as she realised something. She rose to her feet. "If it was your choice, you would have dragged me back to the Red Keep without threatening me or giving me any choice at all. You'd jump at the chance to see me on trial." She relished in seeing Lefford's face fall and his grin fade away. She was more intelligent than him and she had always loved to show him that. "I'm pardoned, aren't I?"

Lyarra grinned as he glared at her. Obviously, she didn't know the full story, but she suspected that Lord Tywin, knowing that she was to ride through the westerlands and was considered to be a suspect in Joffrey's murder, had sent word to his bannermen that she wasn't accused of killing the king. That was why no one had come to take her away.

"Get out," Lord Lefford growled at her.

She met his glare for a few moments before turning away from him and nodding to Brienne. "Thank you," she said to the maester and Lady Lefford. "I'll remember how helpful you were in our time of need," she told Lord Lefford who only gave him a small smirk in response. Brienne picked up Jon and carried him out of the castle, Lyarra followed behind her.

"Here." Having followed them out of the keep, Lady Lefford handed her a sack full of items. "There's food in there and a change of clothes."

"Thank you," she said again to the woman that had helped them despite having no obligation to.

The woman only smiled and let them on. Lyarra mounted her horse and carefully placed Jon in front of her before urging her horse to move forward.

That same evening, they were joined by guards boasting the Lannister banner. She stared at the guards as they approached, frozen to the spot like a statue. Tempted to run away, Lyarra became panicked. What if she had been wrong about Lord Tywin? What if they were here to take her away?

She decided against running, knowing that their horses were most likely faster than hers and would no doubt catch up to her. Instead, she took a deep breath and held up her chin. She had done nothing wrong.

"My lady," one of the guards announced. He looked drunk and dishevelled. "I am Ser Jonothor. Lord Tywin sent us. We're here to escort you to Casterly Rock."

"It took you long enough," Lyarra replied, trying not to show her relief. She heard Brienne scoff beside her.

"My apologies," he responded, looking not at all sorry. He shared a look with the young man beside him, a smirk on his lips as they shared an unspoken joke. "We had a bit of fun on the way."

Fun?! They had to cross a river because it was too dangerous to go by land. Her son had his head split open! Yet they were held up because they were having a bit of fun?! She pushed back her anger and merely nodded. Without sparing them another look, she allowed her horse to trot forward again.

"Mother?" she heard Jon say.

Her heart raced. "Yes, my love. It's me." She pressed a kiss to the back of his head. "I'm right here. Can you tell me what you're name is?"

"Jon," he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Mother, you know that."

She smiled, a feeling of utter relief washing over her as she pressed her cheek against her son's head. "I know. I know."

"You've become thoughtful." Sansa heard Littefinger say behind her as she stared out the small, circular window – the only window in her room below deck. She didn't bother turning to speak to him, having nothing to say. "What are you thinking about?"

She pressed her lips together, frowning. He had just told her that he was the one who killed Joffrey, the king whose murder Sansa would be blamed for, whose murder Lyarra would be blamed for! Yet he had the nerve to expect her to be chatty. "You knew who would be blamed," Sansa stated. "You always have everything planned perfectly. You said it yourself. No stone left unturned

. Nobody thinks it was you or the Tyrells. They'll think it was me or Lyarra. If they find me..."

"If they find you, you'll be killed and strung up for all of King's Landing to see," Littlefinger told her, his tone even as though he was merely discussing the weather. He stepped closer to her. "I could have let them have you. Joffrey is dead. The Tyrells are my allies now. Margaery Tyrell is to be queen and will no doubt manage to have her claws in Tommen soon enough. I don't need you, Sansa. Saving you... it was a risk. I don't take risks. But this time, I did. For you."

Sansa looked away. He was trying to make her feel bad or special, perhaps. She struggled to decipher his motives most of the time. His guard was always up. "Why didn't you save her too?" she asked quietly. Her sister was alone with the Lannisters now. Although Sansa had never been much help, she had gained strength from knowing her sister was in the same keep as her. She was sure Lyarra gained strength from that as well. Now she was a prisoner, while Sansa was free.

But was she free, truly? She still didn't trust Littlefinger. He had to be looking for something.

The corner of his lip curled upwards in a smirk. "I told you I don't like to take risks, Sansa. She's too valuable to the Lannisters. And if I was to bring her away from the capital, she would have insisted on bringing her son – House Lannister's prized heir. I loved your mother, but that was a risk I would never take," Petyr explained.

"They'll blame her for killing Joffrey," Sansa stated, becoming panicked as she realised how much trouble her sister was in. "She's a Stark. She has the motive." Realisation dawned on her. She remembered what she'd said herself earlier he always had everything planned perfectly. "But that was apart of your plan, wasn't it? To have Lyarra take the blame so no one considers you as a suspect."

"There are three people who will seem to have the largest motives to want Joffrey dead. Lyarra, you and the Imp," Littlefinger told her.

Sansa's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Lord Tyrion?" Sansa knew he wasn't fond of Tyrion, but she didn't believe he was capable of killing Joffrey, his own nephew!

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Entirely misguided, of course. But Cersei and Tywin's hatred of the Imp will blind their judgement." Seeing the look on Sansa's face, Littlefinger rushed to explain himself further. "They would have put you in the black cells with him had I not intervened."

"Have you had any news from King's Landing? Any letters?" Sansa asked him, terrified for her sister. The last time she saw Lyarra, she was staring at Joffrey's dying form with a gleam in her eyes. When she thought of the look Lyarra had on her face, she wondered if her sister could have done it. Lya had changed, Sansa knew that, but she had always been clever and practical. She wouldn't have risked it.

But that didn't mean the Lannisters wouldn't accuse her of the crime.

Littlefinger cupped her chin in his hands and smiled at her, though the smile looked more predatory than comforting. "You mustn't look so down, sweetling. Your sister is with child, did you know that?"

No, she hadn't. Nobody told her anything. Another nephew or niece... Sansa would have smiled if she wasn't extremely uncomfortable. She shook her head.

"No?" Baelish stated. "Well, I can safely say that Tywin Lannister will do everything he can to ensure that your sister lives long enough to give birth."

"And after that?" Sansa questioned, her voice conveying how terrified she felt as it trembled. Ser Jaime would protect her sister, she tried to reassure herself. Even if he didn't love Lyarra, even if he still loved Cersei like the rumours said, he wouldn't want the mother of his children to die... would he?

"I can't say, sweetling. My talent for predicting people and their actions can only go so far," Baelish admitted, faux pity on his face and in his tone. Sansa stared at him, fear in her eyes. She couldn't lose another family member.

Not for the first time, she longed for Winterfell. She longed for Robb and Mother and Father and her brothers and Lyarra and even Arya. She longed for safety and simplicity.

She longed for home.

Author's Note: Some of you were wondering why Lyarra didn't try to get Sansa. I honestly hadn't considered it but after Joffrey dies, Lyarra's in a world of her own and is a bit out of it. She's not thinking clearly. And when Jaime reminds her that she'll probably be blamed, adrenaline kicks in and she realises that she has to get the hell out of King's Landing with her son. So she doesn't really think of Sansa.

Also, Lyarra is going to Casterly Rock instead of going north or to the Vale or wherever because she thinks she'll be safer in Casterly Rock. If she goes north, she's going to the Boltons. She doesn't really know her aunt and also there's a mountain range between King's Landing and the Vale that are filled with dangerous mountain clans. As well as that, Lyarra believes Jaime when he says he's going to help her take back Winterfell for her family. Whether he'll hold to that or not...

She will eventually go north, as those of you who have watched the trailer know. But I don't think she's a strong enough person yet to rally the northern lords to fight for her. There's character development to be had before any of that happens.

Just a warning- chapters may become a little less frequent just for the next month. I have exams coming up but after that I'll be on holidays so I can get back to writing more fanfiction.

Anyway, I'd love to hear what you think! As always, reviews are super appreciated!