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Brookbridge/Starshield, 280 A.C.

Steve

Steve on the other hand was congratulating himself that year-long training allowed him to keep his body under control and his muscles relaxed, even though his mind was racing. What else was it going to do with a beautiful woman draped over him like a living and breathing and slightly grumpy blanket? He could smell the rosewater from her hair again and a weird voice in his head hoped the scent would stick to the pillows. Alternatively he could just ask her to stay. In his bed. Or rather ask her to come back there, even after their visitors had left. But would she? Right now she seemed quite content, her breathing had evened out again and one of her arms was now slung across his belly, her hand almost on his arm. The only time she had ever been that close other than for dancing, fighting or other rather proper and practical activities had been in their wedding night. Steve cursed himself, thinking about said event in this situation right now had not been his most glorious idea, but he was only a man and with his wife close to him - a wife he was fairly certain he was in love with - what was he supposed to do?

And it had been a good wedding night, after all, at least in his opinion. Despite a lot of inexperience and awkwardness and apologies from him. Not that he had ever doubted that he would enojoy .. that, but he had not expected her to do so as well. Or at least she had appeared to. On the other hand, they had slept apart ever since, so maybe it had just been the wine and the novelty? A rather disheartening thought. He knew this was nothing unusual in the world of arranged marriages, but truth be told, he had always hoped it to be different for him once he married. But maybe it wasn't, after all their story had in most parts been rather conventional.

It wasn't a secret that the union had mostly been arranged, organized in the usual fashion - one day, his father simply had called him to Lannisport, but without any real explanation. As soon as Steve had entered the keep, he had somehow known something was amiss, even though he could not for the Seven imagine what. If his gut feeling had been anything to go by, he hadn't done anything wrong, but rather done anything right - anything to appease his family, and most importantly his liege lord Tywin. Steve might not have been a cunning man, but he was smarter than most people gave him credit for, a better strategist anyway - that's something him and Jaime had in common. The knight knew danger when he saw it, and to avoid it, he had happily agreed to take over his own keep, Starshield, and be busy managing his own rather inconsequencial lands, practically being cut out of the important Lannister business. Truth be told, his new position - being more than a simple bastard - had also appealed to his ego when they had offered it, he wasn't immune to flattery, like most people though. But there had been even more advantages: Being able to make a difference, at least in a small area of Westeros, and, most importantly, to potentially better protect his sister. She had been the first person he had looked for when he had arrived, finding her in the ladies' solar with Dorna, their father's wife. While many people commented rather unfavourably on her appearance, Steve and Bobbi had never much cared about it - Dorna was a sweet, kind woman, not really keen on politics but caring about her family. Since Ser Kevan had married her long after Steve and Bobbi had been born, there had never been any bad feelings between them, rather an understanding of shared admiration and affection towards the head of their Lannister branch.

"Steven, it is indeed lovely to meet you," she had greeted him, "your father has been very anxious to see you, driving us and little Lancel absolutely mad."
She smiled, visibly proud of the son and heir she was holding, "I am sure he would be delighted if you joined him for hawking this afternoon."
"Of course, I will," Steve had answered, internally sighing at the prospect of even more excercise. He would have enjoyed at least an evening of respite.
He had found his father at the kennels just taking out the hunting dogs. The man had only smiled curtly.
"Good, you're here. Get your bird, Steven, and then let us ride."
After a slight detour for getting Steve's hawk, they had taken the horses prepared by the stable boys, setting out in the evening air. Soon, Lannisport had become smaller behind them.
"How is Starshield coming along?" Ser Kevan had inquired.
"All is going well father," Steve confirmed, "the next harvest will likely be good and people don't seem to be keen on conflict, so it has been happily uneventful in Brookbridge. Though this is not why you wanted to speak to me, is it? Your message sounded urgent and rather ominous."
"Indeed. It is a matter connected to Starshield. There has been some deliberation in the family, and the decision is that you do have to marry, as soon as possible. Some sensible options have already been explored."
Steve had looked at his father as if he had grown a second head.
"Are you serious?"
Ser Kevan had only huffed.
"Don't be daft. You are a landed knight now, and despite the different name still part of the Lannister net. Also, you don't seem to have set your eyes on somebody yet, do you now?"

Steve had finally heard what his father couldn't publicly say, even here far away from anyone else: There had been deliberations in the family, but likely more orders by Tywin than anything else, orders that couldn't really be disobeyed. Tywin wanted further control of him, possibly by marrying him to someone loyal to himself. Or to use him to appease an ally of his. Indeed, he was still part of the Lannister net, more than he had been aware of - meaning he was expected to support the family and play his part in Tywin's grand strategy. There had been no real getting out of this, at least not without risking losing his head or endangering his sister, and his father had very much known this as well. Steve had sighed, admitting defeat. Maybe having a wife would have advantages, such as not having to manage the keep alone.
"So, who are my options?"
"Well, truth be told, there aren't many options, but still a couple. From the Westerlands, there is Pya Plumm, the younger sister of Philip Plumm, Maryah Hill, the sister of Andros Brax, and Jeyne Hill."
Steve had almost rolled his eyes.
"Father, which Jeyne Hill? One would think almost every family has a Jeyne nowadays."
"You are getting cocky. It doesn't suit you," Ser Kevan told him sternly, though Steve could see the amusement in his eyes. "It's the Stackspear family. Though she is rather...young," he had answered carefully, "I doubt this would be agreeable to you. Of course there is the option of a Frey-girl - Alys or Sarelle Rivers are about your age, though both rather unfavourable in looks, Tyta, the forth daughter, is unfortunately only eleven, but an understanding could be found. She seems prettier than the rest, though to get the match approved would be rather difficult, firstly due to her age, and secondly since her full sister is already promised to a Brax."
"This sounds all very delightful," Steve had deadpanned, "the children," he deliberatedly stressed the word, "are not an option. I have met Pya Plumm once, and I simply can't stand her. Which leaves Maryah Hill and the two Rivers. I have met Maryah Hill in passing once I think, she is about my age if I am not mistaken and hopefully able enough to run a keep. I think I should like to meet her again, and see if we can stand each other still after a couple of minutes of talking."
Steve had desperatedly hoped he wasn't making a mistake, that he hadn't just digged himself a grave that he would not be able to get out of again. But what other options did he have? At least he had met Maryah once, while he had never talked to the River-girls in his life.
"You reasoning is sound," Ser Kevan had agreed, "I will add she is the family's favourite as well, both due to her parentage and her character."
'Tywin Lannsiter wants to get rid of her' is what he hadn't said. However, it had made her even more interesting to him.
"I can invite her and her brother soon," his father had offered.
"That would be splendid," Steve had agreed, finally letting his hawk soar.

Arranging a visit had worked out far quicker than expected, and fairly soon Andros Brax had arrived in Lannisport, his younger sister in tow. To say he had been nervous was an understatement, even though he had tried not to show it - too many things depended on his choice of bride, it might determine the rest of his life. He had been slightly surprised to see they hadn't brought a wheelhouse but had all ridden on horseback, the lord and a couple of his men at the front. When they had stopped in the middle of the yard, he could see a young woman who had been positioned at the rear end was riding up to the rest of the party, gracefully sliding down her horse. She was of medium height with long dark hair that had been put together into a tight braid. Her attire seemed well-made but not overly luxurious, what you would expect from a rather well-situated bastard. Despite her obvious rather demure demeanour, he could see her eyes flicker around the yard, taking everything in.
"Good evening," he had greeted her politely after he had exchanged the expected pleasantries with her brother.
Maryah Hill had curtsied deeply, looking up at him through her lashes.
"Good evening Ser Steven," she had answered, "I am happy to be here."

Looking down at her now, asleep in his arm, she seemed indeed happy to be close to him. The open curtains and the moonlight made it possible for him to see parts of her face - her nose, the long lashes and the fluttering eyelids. She seemed so much softer and younger and it made him want to protect her from anything that could possibly hurt her. He was aware that she could very well look after herself, she had made that very clear early in their acquaintance.

"I think the two of us would make a reasonable match," she had told him as soon as they were out of earshot of the people working in the garden, surprising Steve.
He had asked her to accompany him for a casual stroll in the afternoon, more to get to know her than for any other reason. This determination surprised him.
"How so?," he asked curiously.
"Primarily because we both need to marry with some urgency. And I suppose we both don't suffer ignorance very well," she told him matter of factly. "We are of matching backgrounds, our families very much approve. So does our liege lord."
The last part was uttered with some cautiousness, obviously testing the waters.
"Lord Tywin would very much appreciate that match, so I have been told," Steve confirmed her comment, "what is it that you are looking for in a match?"
"Freedom," she told him sincerely, "it's ironic, I know. Companionship, if possible."
"I can give you a keep to manage," he told her sincerely, "I am looking for a companion as well, so I would appreciate if we were to get along. At least I would like us to be friends. I don't want anything you are not willing to give, though as my wife, I would demand honesty from you."
"I think this proposal sounds very agreeable," she told him, "then I hope we can find out whether we can be friends, Ser Steven."

Love had never been the endgame, never even been discussed. It was as if she had never considered it to be an option, at least not for her. Therefore Steve told himself to enjoy whatever closeness happened between the two of them for as long as it lasted. He wanted to just look at her, soak in this moment so he could draw it later. While Steve loved drawing her, he felt he rarely did her justice with his sketches. There was a vitality about her, almost a restlessness, that was simply difficult to put on paper. Now, this restlessness had been calmed by sleep, it was easy to feel comforted by the rythm of her breathing and the peacefulness that was almost radiating off her. It was this peacefuless that likely made him drift off again as well.

When he woke up, he felt a lot colder than during the night and even before he opened his eyes he noticed that Maryah must have rolled off him and turned to the other side of the bed, dragging the blanket with her. As he turned towards her, he could only see her back, still rising and falling softly in what must be a rather deep sleep. He couldn't blame her, he knew she had been exhausted after all the preparations she had done before the arrival of the guests. Therefore, he got up as quietly as he could, starting the day with washing his face and getting dressed. He would have loved to kiss her before leaving, but didn't want to push his luck too far.

The yard was still fairly quiet, though he could see both Bucky and Tony Stark talk in front of the stables. They seemed cautious, appraising each other, but not impolite or hostile. That was good, he didn't have the mind of a diplomatic conflict between Dorne and the North because of two hotheads. He decided not to interfer, rather checking the food and water supply before the day would get too busy. Suddenly though he felt a presence behind him. As he turned around, Bucky was leaning against the door frame of the storage building, blocking his exit.

"So..." he started, raising an eyebrow, "your arms and legs still seem attached. May I assume your wife as been gracious to other extremities as well?"
Steve's face turned red as Bucky started to grin.
"Interesting, Steve, interesting. For a Lannister, you also have a very expressionate face. Not that I mind."
"Oh, do shut up!" he told the other man, "don't you have anything better to do than needling me?"
He grinned."I could try to entertain Margaery Tyrell, though I am afraid she is not much interested in me," he said, "your sister though..."
Steve shrugged. If Bobbi were interested in Bucky, that would solve many of his troubles and worries.
"Take care, for your own health's sake," he nevertheless warned him.
"Because of you or because of her?" Bucky deadpanned.
"Because of everyone here," Steve simply answered.