HELLO! I'm sorry this took so long, but I am terrible at time management. Ironically, this friggin thing only started flowing two days before I was due to go back to school :(

A big thank you to Darkwolf76! She's amazing, you guys, honestly, these chapters would come out a lot later without her, and her work is a big inspiration and drive so please go show her wonderful stories a bit of love!

Chapter 28: Young and Unafraid

That night, she lay awake in the dark with Grey Wind curled around her back to keep her warm. She could hear the guards making their rounds, smell the horses, and feel each deep breath the wolf took in beside her. She and Grey had always had a distant relationship, being that he was a wolf and just as likely to bite her baby as he was to lick her fingers. But since leaving Winterfell, he'd become a constant companion. He slept at her side, most nights, and kept her company when the days were long and lonely.

The wolf was much connected to Robb; that much she knew. How deep the bond went, Sylvia did not know, but perhaps the beast had sensed her loneliness, or Robb had sent him to her. To be with her when he couldn't.

Filled with a wistful sadness, Sylvia shifted, lying on her back. Grey Wind grunted, but remained undisturbed, his tail flicking once over her thighs as his head shifted to turn his snout away from her.

And yet, for all her loneliness, she was not truly alone, not once this entire journey. Her company was only too small to make itself known. Her hands slipped down, low on her belly. Since Mini, her once flat belly had become rounded, a little bulge beneath her navel always present. It did not bother her much, but now she wondered if it might be larger after this child was born. She grimaced.

It made her think of the first time she carried a child, when every change was a marvel. The first time she felt Mini move had been when she was trying to sleep. Strange little flutters had roused her and she'd thought at once to wake her husband so he could feel it too, but when she touched where the flutters came from, she couldn't feel it. Knowing he couldn't feel it, Sylvia had laid on her back, hands on her rounding belly.

Everything had been made real when she first felt Mini stirring inside her, and truly she was thankful to have the time alone to come to terms with how her life was changing.

She did not need flutters to know a flesh and blood child was growing and would be here before the year's end.

"Your timing, little one, is sorely lacking." She murmured, before pausing a moment. "But we were careless," all the times she and Robb bed down together, the times she pulled him closer instead of having him pull away, feeling the stickiness of his release inside her instead of on her skin… she shook her head. "I wish we were home. I would tell your father, happily." She didn't know what Robb would think or do when he learned of the babe, and that frightened her.

Of course, her husband was not one to strike her, but when he was angry their spats could shake Winterfell itself. "He won't be angry at you, sweet one." She assured the babe, but oddly, it sounded more comforting to her ears. "I won't let him. He's the one who helped put you there," she scoffed, remembering her words with Catelyn earlier, how the lady had spoken as though she thought Sylvia could command her body to make a baby on its own.

Once more, she thought of Winterfell and of her daughter. How sweet it was to think her little one would be her eldest, would have siblings, a baby brother or sister. They would be friends, she was certain. As close as she and Myrcella had been. It wouldn't be like her and Joffrey. There was enough cruelty in the world, already.

As much as she loved her mother, Sylvia could not imagine raising a boy like Joffrey and being able to love them as affectionately as mother loved Joffrey. Where his malice came from, Sylvia did not know and was sure she was better off not knowing. She wondered, though, if Joffrey was born cruel, but it was a notion she could not really accept because no baby was born bad. This left only the unthinkable possibility that her mother and father had turned him into the man he was growing into. It made her uncomfortable, but with it came a vow to never spoil her children rotten or allow them to be cruel to one another. Boys or girls, she would love them all the same.

"You have a sister. Her name is Minisa. She's so good. So sweet. I'm sure she will never have ill intent in her heart." She rolled her eyes, recalling the faint whisper of a memory. "Your father always thought it was silly," she murmured into the darkness, her hand settling over her belly. "He would say babes so little can't hear." She thought about the times he'd find her singing to her belly, or ordering the babe within to behave. A fresh flash of annoyance rose up in her at her husband. "How could he know? I knew Mini could hear me. I'd started singing when I was in the bath and she started kicking. Really kicking." She smiled to think of it. "When I carried her, I would talk to her when I was alone. She was a mild little thing, but sometimes she'd stretch her little feet into my ribs." Sylvia sighed, trailing her fingers over the expanse of her middle. "I sang her to sleep." Southern lullabies, ones she remembered Cersei singing to Joffrey and Cella. "I hope Elane is singing to her, now."

The movement of the tent flap had both she and Grey Wind perking up, ready to face whoever intruded. The calm was broken, and there stood her husband, eying her oddly.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked quietly, not wishing to startle her twice.

Lies could come easily to her if they were half true. "Grey Wind, obviously. I need to speak to someone, or else I'll go mad." Remembering their little spat earlier, she tried not to make her voice sound sweet. Rather, she sounded indifferent.

"Good that mother is here, then." He said, tossing his groves on the table. He recalled too easily that his mother distrusted his wife for the crime of the family she'd come from. He would have them kept close together, so his mother would see that her doubts were misplaced. And should any of her misgivings have merit, his mother would sniff them out. He turned back to Sylvia, finding that she'd sat up, her arms resting on her bent knees. Grey Wind had laid back down, his tail curled around her feet. "I know you've been lonely." He admitted, regretfully.

"You think Catelyn will end that?" she asked, linking her hands.

"You were close at Winterfell, why not?" he turned away, starting on his doublet. Sylvia worked her jaw, thinking. He seemed not to know about her argument with his mother, but she did not wish to get too comfortable with the idea that he was ignorant of their quarrel.

"In Winterfell, yes. Before Bran's fall, before her isolation, before she and Bran were nearly killed." She paused. "Before she left for the Eyrie." She watched her husband's back as he undressed, removing his belt and leaning his sword at the foot of the bed, close enough to lunge for if he needed to. He made no reply. "I've not seen her in months, Robb. And you know my feelings on her leaving." Her voice was harder.

Finally, he looked at her, briefly, out of the corner of his eye. "I do," he said. "She's returned now, and I want only peace between you. We cannot afford to turn on ourselves." He advised gently.

"Are you not sending her back north?" She frowned. Sylvia so longed to see the woman off, especially after Catelyn threatened her with being hauled off in a vegetable cart like a disgrace. How lovely that would have been, to bid her farewell while she remained at Robb's side.

"No, I have use of her here. She has offered me good counsel."

Something pinched inside Sylvia to hear that. She had wanted to fill that role for him and thought she'd been providing it up to now. Obviously not. He thought her advice lacking, or he did not trust her, perhaps both. Her heart ached to think of it, and she wanted to weep.

"She belongs home with the children she's not seen for months." She grumbled back, not meeting his eyes. The children she abandoned, she thought hotly, aching for the two boys she'd cared for. For so long, she'd had to care for unruly little Rickon, always longing for his mother but finding more comfort in his feral wolf than he ever had in her. Then she'd tried to watch over Bran, and he'd resented her for it. Catelyn Stark had broken her own sons' hearts, and she did not know if she could ever forgive her for that. Perhaps her sons would, and if so, they were kinder little fellows than she ever expected.

Robb paused, and she knew what he wanted to say. The same could be said of you. She clenched her jaw, waiting for the easy blow he could inflict. But instead, he said, "She wants to be here. She wants to oversee us regain my father and sisters. She knows Bran and Rickon are safe, but that Sansa and Arya are not."

Still, she did not look at him, her fingers wringing together, her brow softening slowly. It was not unreasonable, she thought, to want such a thing. Mini would be safer in Winterfell than with her, here in this caravan. She was safe at home, as were Bran and Rickon. Though she ached for her child, it was easier to sleep knowing she was safe in her own bed. When Robb first brought his wolf into their rooms, she'd not allowed the pup near the babe. But when her back was turned, somehow she found them close together, and on instinct, she'd run to them and snatched her baby up from the floor.

Catelyn was a mother too; she had the same instinct—to run towards danger if it meant protecting their child. But she could not voice it, so fresh was her anger at Catelyn, especially after today. "So you know I've been lonely, and instead rely on your mother to rectify this instead?" she murmured.

Robb sighed. "I've sent Grey Wind," he replied.

Sylvia rolled her eyes. "I like talking to him, but he doesn't often talk back."

"You knew, when I started this march, I would have less time for—"

"I know." Her voice was sharp, but she softened at once. "I know." Sylvia shifted once more, her hands unlinking and so the fingers of one hand could come to her mouth. "But you don't make better plans when you're awake half the night and up before the sun rises."

He turned to her once more, nearly done with undressing, save for his boots and crept closer. A knee came up and he leaned forward a little, the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Can I have my spot back?" Her eyes cast down to the direwolf, still lying happily at her side, his eyes open and alert.

In spite of herself, Sylvia felt one corner of her mouth twitch up. "I don't know, Grey's made quite a home there, I think. It would be unfair for him to give it up when he's been there more often than you have."

Robb's lips twitched. "I can share."

"Can you?" she asked coyly, so enjoying this little game, their earlier quarrel was forgotten.

"For you, I can."

"Well, you'll have to take the foot. As you can see, I already have a bedmate."

"Replaced!" Robb groaned, clutching his chest. "By my own wolf." For the first time in what felt like ages, Sylvia threw her head back and laughed. "You cad!" he hissed playfully, going around to scratch behind Grey Wind's ear. "Wife seducing rascal, I never once thought." She tugged him down to her, both their hands pushing the direwolf away gently. Robb fell on top of her, placing a brief kiss on her lips before lying on his side. But still, they kissed languidly for a few moments more, hands feeling and holding and warming until the broke apart.

That night she fell asleep beside her husband, warm and contented, her leg tangled up with his. Robb, however, remained awake a lot longer, his eyes watching her face and listening to her breathe. Before coming to her, he's stopped to see to his mother.

"Why have you brought her here?!" she hissed as soon as she saw him, her voice quiet to avoid the soldiers outside hearing her.

Robb's hackles rose, bristling at her accusatory tone. "My wife's already explained it." He said, circling around her, eyeing her just as Grey Wind would eye a threat. "Renly requested she be there. Sylvia knows him best, and I trust her when she tells me her uncle would be offended if I were to keep her home."

His mother scoffed, looking very frustrated. "I have already told you, that girl sees her family with eyes different from our own."

"That girl is my wife." Robb said, his voice low and cold as ice. She spoke to him as though she were scolding a misbehaving boy.

"Who you were quarreling with, not two hours ago." Catelyn looked back to her eldest, breathing sharply through her nose. The words were clawing up her throat, burning like bile, begging to be released and reveal to Robb his wife's condition. But she swallowed. She would not say them. Sylvia already thought her to be a fickle, flighty mother, brash and selfish. Robb would not hear this news from her for three days, but if Sylvia would not tell him, she would.

Robb looked away, ignoring the hot feeling of embarrassment on the tips of his ears. "How we quarrel is not your concern," he spat. "Stay out of it, mother, I'll not say it again."

"Then you shouldn't quarrel at all. Especially not now, not here. Sylvia's lineage is now more apparent than ever before." Catelyn sighed tiredly, rubbing her forehead. When she spoke again, she was much calmer. "You should have left her in Winterfell, away from prying eyes." The Stark matriarch sounded almost sad, but Robb's blood ran too hot to notice it.

"I will not let any man even utter the word 'traitor' behind Sylvia's back and allow them to walk away from it." He clenched his jaw angrily. He did not want to deal out punishments for his men's wariness about his southern wife, but he would if he had to, if someone were to voice their vile doubts and pose a threat to his love. He only hoped in doing so, it quietened their suspicions, rather than fan it.

Catelyn looked to her son, eyes soft. "Please, Robb. Please send her back home. For her own sake."

"I will not." He replied.

"Why?"

Robb paused, his blue eyes flickering to the brazier, watching for a moment as the flames flickered wildly. "She has to prove she's loyal to these men. They will never trust me fully if they do not trust my wife."

"Your wife does not lead this army. You do. One thing you do not need is to fret over your wife while you're trying to win back your father and sisters."

Robb listened to his mother's council, and part of him was angry that she spoke such sound reason, because while he needed Sylvia at his side to smooth over talks with Renly, the other half only exulted in the fact that he could return to her at night, rather than a cold, lonely bed, far from her arms. So he watched her face for a long while after she fell asleep, enjoying the moment of peace that had found them, so briefly, before the sun rose and the outside world rushed in.

Tomorrow, they would reach the Twins.

The golden sunlight bathed the gardens in a warm summer glow as the youngest prince and princess of Westeros ran through the trees and flowers, chasing one another with all the sweet innocence of children in the midst of joy.

Their mother, Queen Cersei of the Seven Kingdoms, watched on from the balcony, smiling as Myrcella snuck up behind Tommen and startled him. They were so different from their elder brother and sister. They were so happy, so sweet. Cersei could only remember a few times her elder two had gotten along, when they'd played as happily together as they did apart.

Sylvia and Joffrey were just too different, the queen had long since realized. Sylvia was sweet, meek though she was, and with such a wild imagination. So wild, some of the more heartless wretches at court called her mad. When that foul word finally reached her child's ears at the age of eight, Cersei had done her best to comfort her, while also trying to dispel the pretend playmate she'd had since she was small.

Joffrey was a fearsome lion, one that made commands and was not appeased until they were obeyed. He had a very keen sense of pride too, and had become aware of his big sister's fanciful tendencies far earlier than the girl herself had. He was so strong, and knew so well what it meant to have power, what it meant to be king. Of course there were still many things he had left to learn, but she would be there to teach him, especially now that Robert was dead, and very soon, his Hand would be gone to Castle Black like the irrelevant fool he was.

It truly was a shame Lord Stark now sat in the Black Cells. As soon as his son marched south and swore fealty to Joffrey, and as soon as Ned Stark denounced himself as a liar and traitor, the sooner he could get on with life in the cold waste he called home.

In the Small Council Chamber, she had told Joffrey in private of his sister's small act of fealty in warning them of her foolish husband's plans to march. He appeared surprised at that.

"She is in the midst of our enemies and still she writes and moves to warn us. Even your grandfather would call her brave." Truly, such a small act would not earn praise from Tywin Lannister, but she wanted to endear Joffrey to his sister. If he thought her brave and loyal, he might set his lifelong disappointment in his sister aside to welcome her back home to them, happily.

"I had always taken her for a fool. Not a brave fool." Her son had said. Cersei hid her annoyance at the jab, as she had always done.

"She seeks to make her dunderheaded husband see reason. She wrote me their movements and that she would make him kneel."

"And you burned this letter?" Joffrey had asked, his voice curious and cold. At her nod, he'd scoffed. "Foolish woman." He'd muttered irritably. But despite what her son thought, Cersei knew what she'd done at destroying Sylvia's letter. But apart from the information about Robb Stark's march, the contents of it were dangerous to Sylvia. If Joffrey knew she would support Robb Stark's march against them, when she was back in the Keep, her life under Joffrey would not be an easy one. "And what does it matter that she supports us? What good is she all the way in Winterfell?"

"What matters is that she supports you. It means she's loyal to her family and will advise Robb Stark to be loyal too when the time comes."

"And the traitorous dog would listen to her?" He sounded so bemused. "To an imbecile like her?"

"According to your sister, he loves her very much." She said, hands clenching around each other. "Love makes you softer, more willing to negotiate." Joffrey was quiet for a long moment, contemplating. "When your grandfather returns, he will know what to do." She smiled sweetly at her boy, brushing his golden hair away from his face.

Cersei smiled at her victory. Lord Stark would be gone, her father, Tywin Lannister would serve as Joff's Hand, and once Sylvia made her way south with her husband to kneel to their new king, she'd have all her children back under her protection. Perhaps she could have Joff offer to house Sylvia and her husband, indefinitely at the Red Keep. No one could refuse a king's generosity.

The queen was not foolish enough to think there would be no animosity from Robb Stark after his father was arrested, but she knew her daughter could persuade him into seeing reason. The Starks were an honorable lot, so how could the boy argue against the king's justice? Robb Stark's wife was her child and Joffrey's sister. There was no way he could come against the Crown without trampling over the wife he loved so dearly. And if he did…perhaps Sylvia would finally realize one could trust no one but their family.

Myrcella's screeching laughter drew the queen from her thoughts. Tommen was chasing after his sister now, and though his shorter legs meant he'd had a difficult time of catching up, his determination kept him at Myrcella's heels. Sometimes they reminded her of herself and Jaime when they were children at Casterly Rock.

Jaime…Cersei's smile dimmed at the thought of her twin, who had gone to raze Catelyn Stark's girlhood home, who had promised to bring her daughter home. So much had happened since Jaime made that promise, and perhaps it would be unnecessary now that the Crown had the north by the throat. But still, it would be better to be safe. After all, a cornered wolf may still lash out.

But soon, her family would be whole again. Jaime would return and Sylvia would follow and this garden would be filled with all the people she loved, once again.

One of the queen's happiest memories was years old before Tommen was born and while Myrcella still grew inside her. She'd taken Joffrey, then barely five years old, and Sylvia, at just over six, to the gardens. Robert, in his drunkenness, had ordered Jaime to escort the queen and her children, though he hadn't meant it as a gift. But it had been.

"I want some peace from all the fair-haired Lannisters 'round my bloody castle." He'd grumbled.

The queen and her twin had spent hours walking the lush paths of the Red Keep's expansive gardens, following the children as they ran ahead, exploring every flower and every pond, scurrying around the hedges and delighting in every strange creature that flew past. Joffrey had caught a toad, and after his sister begged him, he'd let it go, unharmed. Sylvia let him catch her after a short chase, knowing how upset her brother would get if made to race after her for too long.

Jaime didn't play with them, but it was too dangerous for the man to show any affection for the prince, while pointedly ignoring the princess. Sylvia was too sweet to detect the apprehension in her uncle's face whenever she rushed up to him, trying to please him with whatever pretty flower she'd found. He never told her to leave him alone, and sent her back each time with a few courteous words.

For a few moments, it had been so wonderful to pretend they were a family enjoying a beautiful day together. She pretended Jaime was her husband, and that they were watching their children play. When the sun began to set, they could go back home in the castle, lay the little ones to sleep and then get lost between the sheets until the sunlight found them.

But no matter how much Cersei could pretend nothing could change the hair as black as coal growing from her eldest child's head. She was Robert's daughter, and for that, her lover could never love the girl. He tolerated her as much as he could, but she knew him better than she knew herself and knew he wished Sylvia far from him, and far from her.

There was one time when Cersei truly thought Jaime would suggest doing something evil and unthinkable to Sylvia, and even now, the memory made her belly clench painfully. After the instance with the younger Stark boy, she thought, perhaps, now she knew that he had once truly considered harming her daughter—even for a brief second. After all, Jaime hadn't hesitated with Bran Stark, a child he felt nothing toward. He resented Sylvia, though.

They'd thought the children were asleep. She'd sung to Joffrey until his little eyes had fluttered shut, and then heard from Sylvia's septa that the girl was sleeping. Assured, she hadn't thought to hold back when her brother came to her soon after and had kissed him. Heart fluttering, belly clenching with desire, Cersei had huffed into his mouth, twisting her fingers into his hair while Jaime pawed at her gown. It felt so good to be in his arms again, to feel him pressed against her, solid and warm and comforting. He'd started on the laces of her dress, tugging roughly.

They hadn't noticed Sylvia standing there, not until, "Mama?"

Had Jaime breathed one word of harming her daughter, Cersei would never have forgiven him. She loved him too greatly to cut him from her life forever, but never would she forget, never truly forgive him. Thankfully, her sweet twin had only looked to her for answers of what they should do, and Cersei had quickly moved to the girl, sweeping her up into her arms and hurrying back into Sylvia's bedchamber.

In the dark privacy of the room, on the soft expanse of Sylvia's bed, the Queen of Westeros repeated over and over to the child it was an innocent kiss between siblings, and that to mention it again would make her look silly. Sylvia accepted it easily enough, small as she was.

Still, Cersei kept her in the apartments for days afterward. She told the king that his daughter was unwell and it would be detrimental to the child's to see her. The girl's septa was not even permitted to tend to her, and Sylvia had cried at that. By the end, Sylvia had forgotten what she'd seen. Her freedom after over a week in the apartments was more important to her than a kiss her mother said was chaste. The girl had been more excited for her freedom, to see her father and septa again, and to her mother's relief, never mentioned what she'd seen after.

HEY, so a little bit of a fluffy chapter, but I wanted to get this out, so a bit more of Sylvia's past and her current pregnancy are explored a bit more. And wow, I did not intend for Cersei to be so cruel as to have shut her kid away for fear that they would be outted, but honestly, I don't think Cersei thought of that as cruel. In her mind, I think she was protecting Sylvia just as much as she was protecting her other kids.

THANk YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEWS! I hope you enjoyed!