BEING RE-WRITTEN - тнe lιon and тнe wolғ |jaιмe lannιѕтer|

Hope

She recalled her lingering admiration and attraction to those who lurked within the depths of the candle-lit crypts; her long forgotten ancestors and forefathers that bewitched her each time her gaze landed upon their statue of representation. She loved the place of worship, of memory... of family. She remembered her foremost encounter with the crypts of Winterfell by accident; her mother, the lady Catelyn, had insisted on taking her to the Sept to pray which hadn't particularly been one of Eliana's interests - she even preferred Maester Luwin's lessons to her mother's torture when she could venture to her father's tree that said naught but whispered so much. What befuddled her was the lack of interest her siblings showed towards the place; they were all reluctant to want to wander down there and cast their eyes upon the Starks of old, their ancestors...

She recollected the initial time she had enticed her brothers to go with her; Jon hadn't been down to the crypts beneath Winterfell without their father, but when his sister had coaxed him to do so with Robb beside him, he wearily agreed. They had been beside him; Robb pulling him along as Lia hummed to herself which both brother's remembered to be one their father was often inclined to hum himself as each of them stared up at the stern-faces of the past Kings of Winter, giggling as they tried to intimidate their lifeless expressions with little success.

Eliana was past her ninth nameday and nearing her tenth, but the boys were both barely past their seventh and too eager to prove themselves men. She taunted to the pair of them, goading them to go with her, saying that they were "wimpier than Hodor and more weak than Old Nan" - her manipulation had worked. She had persuaded them to venture into its depths... Jon was far too cautious to do anything that could be ridiculed on his behalf or his siblings; but he felt distinctly out of place, and Lia hated being able to see it, being able to sense it. He deserved to belong. The statues represented Kings and Lords, and there was an evident resemblance between Jon and the faces of the statues. Eliana noted that Jon reminded her of the King Torrhen Stark, the King Who Knelt, much like their lord father.

Lia, however, resembled that of her aunt and mother both, her raven braids cascading down her back with the hoax of little auburn strands that danced through it innocently, her grey eyes sprinkled with blue flecks that shone mysteriously. She couldn't see herself in her aunt or her mother but her father was resolute that she complimented his sister in both appearance and character. Yes, she thought of herself wilful and headstrong, even hot-tempered at times... but she wasn't pretty like the Southern ladies. "You, my little wolf, are a wild beauty and any man would be glad to have you." She would argue that she was a skilled rider for her age, that much she would agree on... and had a certain ease with a sword.

To her, Robb didn't look like any of them; he was far too Tully.

They wore crowns upon their heads whilst iron crafted swords sat across their laps, and she knew Jon thought he wasn't destined for anything like that, like she and Robb would be, hopefully. She thought differently and so did Jon; he wasn't a Stark, for his father and forefathers were... and he would never be buried in the crypts with the rest of the Starks. No one needed to tell him that. He knew his place. He'd always known it... Lady Catelyn always made sure of that.

And it wasn't in the crypts.

However, he loved Robb and Lia too much to decline and willingly let himself be dragged along with them, laughing when they took turns imitating the expressions of their forefathers. Eliana paused when Robb halted and peered into the alcove that was reserved for their father, beside the statues of Rickard, Brandon and Lyanna. "It's not that scary down here, Jon; you were scared for naught."

"If it's not scary, why have you stopped?" Jon questioned his brother, following Lia as they stepped further into the darkness, both endeavouring to keep their candles alight, both pausing near the alcove that would day be Robb's.

However, the little lordling hesitated.

"And I wasn't nervous because I was scared," Jon told the auburn haired boy, returning to their father's future crypt, looking at Robb. The candles flickered but fought and held the darkness at bay. Jon glanced towards his sister who had wandered off to their grandfather's crypt, barely within the minute circle of light the candles were giving off, so he wouldn't have to look Robb in the eyes. Neither Robb nor Lia understood what it was like to be a bastard... they'd always belonged. "I'm nervous because this is a Stark place."

"You've Stark blood, Jon." Eliana called out stubbornly, scoffing.

"But not the name," Jon countered. Their lord father had treated them almost the same yes, but Lady Catelyn made certain that Jon had no right to anything associated with the namesake. "You'll be entombed here one day, both of you, but not me." He wasn't sure if he was jealous or grateful.

Robb's brow had furrowed at Jon immediately, "Yes, you will; you're our brother and when I'm lord of Winterfell, I can and I will give you a crypt of your own. Beside us."

Jon smiled at his siblings, but the shadows didn't feel any less menacing as the words reached him. "I'd like that." He admitted.

"Fancy trying to find those lower levels father mentioned?" Eliana pressed, suddenly grinning as her candle burned brightly, and it seemed she didn't even notice the existence of the darkness.

Jon sighed, "Not enough Stark bones up here to keep you happy, Lia?" Jon ventured, following her into the darkness.

"Jon, you know she'd spend all day in here if she could - she spends most nights wandering the crypts... if mother- "

Eliana spun around, her candle almost upon his cheek as she stared at him in a dead silence for a split second. "You mustn't mention it to her; she'll have father keep me out otherwise." She explained with a sudden ardent tone to her voice that neither boys had heard before despite knowing her passion and honour to family was growing more robust with each passing day. "I like it down here; I like being with their spirits."

"Theon was right; you're weird... Are you sure you're our sister and not some sceptic posing as Eliana Stark?" Robb laughed before looking to Jon who had barely smiled at his jest. "Let's go... Maybe we'll find some Snow's down there?" Robb teased.

Shoving him, Jon laughed when Robb landed in a hallow puddle that had formed from the water dropping from the high stone ceiling, his candle spluttering out as he threw himself after Jon before they chased one another back towards the more recent crypts. Jon's candle also died during the chase, but Lia still had hers and with their laughter echoing through the crypts, it seemed less frightening.

"Jon, why have you dragged me here?" Eliana let out in a grumble as she approached her awaiting brother, who (from what she thought) looked rather agitated as he clapped eyes on her. Her hand was clutched tightly around a bouquet of Winter roses, her fingers poised around the thorns. "Is it a girl? Are these for a girl?" She snorted as Jon ignored her taunting, choosing to offer her only silence. "Gods, you are getting as bad as Theon... were you scared Robb would see you, is that it?"

"It's none of your business, my lady."

Eliana bristled at his comment, gritting her teeth at the title. "Don't call me that." She protested through a tightly clenched jaw. "It's only fair I know: you dragged me from the hunt to pinch a bouquet of bloody flowers from Sansa, so this better be good."

Jon looked at her properly then, his brow deepening in thought and subtle panic as he stared at her. "No one saw you?" Jon pressed as Eliana shook her head. "I don't want you to get into trouble with Lady Stark forme."

"So what? Like my mother would chastise me for stealing Sansa's flowers anyway..." Eliana gave a shrug; she didn't care in the slightest if her mother would bother to pick an argument of the "mystery of Sansa's missing bouquet", it wasn't like Sansa needed them anyway. Jon said he needed them, so she got them for him. Jon never asked her for anything. "It only flowers anyway, there's plenty more where they came from."

Gesturing to the bouquet, Jon held out his hand and waited for her to give them to her but she held them just out of his reach, knowing he was running out of patience. "Give it to me, now."

"Are you going to tell me, or..." Eliana trailed off, raising an eyebrow in his direction as a slow smirk crept across her lips.

"Or what?"

Glancing around them, Eliana let her smirk transform into a wicked grin when her eyes fell upon a muddy puddle.

Jon sighed when he realised his defeat. Despite knowing he could try to overcome, but Eliana would fight back and she was far more fierce than he was in the art of fighter seeing as it was frowned upon for girls to practice with a sword. He knew that even though she was pleased to help him, she would brawl for those roses if he didn't tell her his reasoning behind wanting them. He was grateful that even though she was known for her rough nature, the roses still looked perfectly dainty and gorgeous.

"Swear the old gods you will not tell anyone of this, Lia. Not father, not Robb, not..."

"And, most of all, not my mother." Eliana cut him off with a soft chuckle before allowing her face to grow serious. "By the old gods, I swear it."

Jon grabbed the roses out of her hand much like a small child would snatch something they desire, before seizing her wrist, dragging her along.

Eliana sighed in annoyance, "Oh, be serious Jon... you did promise me you would tell me. Am I that much of a burden that you can't entrust me with it?"

"Be quiet like I know you can be, and you can come with me."

His terms immediately appealed to her, she nodded in agreement and chose to follow him, making no further protest.

Together they walked past the kennels, which were silent and empty as they'd been taken on the hunt. Eliana grimaced, I should be there. The bailey looked deserted as that of a long fallen stronghold, in fact, most of Winterfell was deadly silent as most of the men had joined the hunt along with the guests from King's Landing.

As she took in the desolate place that was her home, usually thriving with life, she scrunched up her nose in vexation as Jon's lingering silence. "Tell me; do you plan to meet with a girl in the crypts?"

He jabbed her ribs and hustled her inside immediately. "Would you shut up, Eliana Stark?" Jon grumbled as he pulled two torches from their sconces, taking one for himself and handing his sister the other.

In the silence, more companionable than both cared to admit though it seemed to occur often between the pair of them and it was comfortable, they spiralled down the stone steps that led to the crypts, while the steady flames patterned the pitch-black vaults with dim shadows. It would be oddly disconcerting for a Stark to be scared of such a place but Eliana wasn't easily afraid; to Jon, he had begun to find its musty darkness oddly welcoming, like Eliana had often told him the warmth she felt in such a place. Winterfell is embracing you brother, let it. However, he's learned from Maester Luwin that it was the hot springs in which Winterfell was built upon that caused the warmth but he still found favour in Old Nan's stories, one of a coiled dragon sleeping beneath Winterfell itself, its slumber deep and undisturbed.

As they approached the lower levels, Jon deposited of his torch into a bronze ring on a pillar near the entrance and stopped beside a figure very familiar to the both of them. Turning his attention to the bouquet in his hand, he placed one bud within the hand of the statue along with a feather that had also been placed there by King Robert, whilst he set the other roses in her lap, allowing the fallen petals to lay at her feet.

Eliana's face immediately softened once she gathered Jon's intentions, "So... they were for her."

"She liked the blue ones best."

"Father said as much." Eliana agreed, her face solemn as she stared at the statue of their aunt Lyanna, in silent awe of its beauty. "It's usually him who brings them here, and he doesn't let anyone else arrange them..."

Jon smiled at her statement and bowed his head briefly, "Lord Stark is hunting with the King; keep it to yourself and no one needs to know, sister."

"So, those-" She gestured to the blue winter roses as her smile remained on her lips. Jon followed her hand. "- Were the reason for all the secrecy?" He nodded and she sighed, placing her hand upon his forearm in comfort. You're a good man, Jon Snow. "Though, I do wish I were with them."

"It's not my fault ladies and bastards aren't welcomed in royal hunting parties."

Eliana snorted, "Honestly, I doubt Robert would've minded if we had tagged along with them. I would very much like to wipe that smug smirk off of that golden shit's face." She imitated Joffrey's scowl as Jon chuckled. "I bet he can't even skin a rabbit, the prick. But none of that is worse than mother going on about marriage."

Jon grimaced at the topic of his sister's impending marriage to a Southern lord, knowing it was the last thing she wanted. "Fear not, Lia.. Lady Stark won't find you down here."

"I don't want to, Jon." Eliana whispered, her voice broken at the topic, her eyes meeting his eyes as they the same disdain at the idea. "It's the last thing I ever wanted to do..."

"But you liked Oberyn, didn't you?" Jon pressed, holding his sister at arm's length as she shrugged in response. "Well, you said he wasn't as boring as the others... so that's something at least."

"I suppose."

Jon sighed, "And what of the Tyrell's... what were they like?"

"Very prim and proper." She replied, the distaste dripping from her words, though it wasn't all true; she rather enjoyed meeting the Lady Olenna and Margaery, but the others were less than ordinary. They barely held her interest.

"Oh dear." Jon breathed, trying his best not to laugh as he imaged his sister surrounding by precise and equally polite people who would dot on her hand and foot to keep her happy. It wasn't a pretty sight. "I bet you enjoyed every moment of it."

"Piss off, Jon." Eliana shoved his arm playfully, before letting a deep sigh leave her lips. "I missed Winterfell; I missed this; I missed you and Robb..." She let out, a small smile forming once more. "I never realised how much I took all of this for granted until it wasn't part of my life for two moons... I hated it, I hated being parted from it. From Winterfell, from everyone... from you."

How Jon wished she hadn't said that; It only made him feel more guilty about what he was about to say to her, and he knew it would upset her and possibly tear her in two. They'd always been close; her, Robb and himself... ever since he could remember. But it was risking it for a chance at honour. Do you really want this? "I'm to take the black, as uncle Benjen did when father became Lord of Winterfell... You always joked I was of the winter, I belong there. I can be something there." He paused to see her studying him closely, her eyes glazing over at his words, obviously not having expected him to say such a thing. "When we meet again, I will be a man of the Watch, and you wedded to some Southern Lord, or a perhaps member of Robert's Small Council if you continue to evade it." Jon mussed her hair, though she did recoil like she usually did. "Don't let King's Landing turn you in too much of a lady."

Eliana was at a loss for words. How did she reply to such revelations? What did she say to Jon... how could see accept his departure? Did he not feel at home in Winterfell? Had they done something wrong? Had she? No... mother. Her mother had always hated him since their father had come back with him from the rebellion... but that hadn't been Jon's fault, he hadn't wanted to cause such a rift in their relationship. It wasn't his fault he was born.

Still finding no words, she did the only thing she could think of doing in that moment; she flung herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his back tightly as she pressed her face into his neck before feeling him slowly hug her after being shocked by the sudden embrace. "Promise me..." She trailed off, suddenly very terrified for him, knowing the Wall wasn't an easy place and nor was it safe. He could die. "You must promise me, Jon. Promise to keep yourself from harm, and promise to not endanger your life... I don't want to lose you. Not to the North." She stopped herself, feeling the stinging sensation brewing at the corners of her eyes. "Promise me."

Burying his face into her hair, Jon closed his eyes and squeezed her back tightly, welcoming the hug and realising letting go would be even harder than he anticipated. "I promise, Lia. I do." He vowed, his arms tightening still as she refused to let him go.

Pulling away reluctantly, she wiped the tears that had betrayed her quickly, not wanting Jon to see them though he already had and it made his chest ache even more in remorse for unintentionally causing her pain. "I knew letting you read Florian and Jonquil would go to your head eventually." She weakly jested though it barely made it out of her mouth.

"I'm not Sansa... "Oh Florian, you're so gallant – save me, kind ser!"" Jon mimicked, pretending to pass out much like he imagined Sansa would or how he would expect her to, which caused an eruption of laughter from his sister before she fluttered her eyes at him, making him scoff.

"But what about... "I would give my life to honour you, Jonquil. I have come to love you, share in my love, sweet one."" Eliana replied as Jon snorted at the imitation of the male hero from the tale that their sister adored so much.

"Piss off, Lia."

She didn't know why her father had asked to see her at such a time... she was far too preoccupied after Bran's fall; she had to make sure her mother was fed otherwise she would continue to starve herself as she sat watching over her broken son. She had to be there for her mother, she had to.

Grabbing a torch from its sconce, she gave a sigh of frustration, knowing that her lord father could absolutely anywhere within the crypts – how would she find him quickly enough to return to her mother? It wasn't like she could anticipate his movements...

Well, she could and she did exactly that.

He was where she knew he would be, standing before the statue of carved stone in the darkness, having not bothered to have a torch to guide him... he was down in the crypts often enough as was Eliana, but even she lost her way.

Often she would find him standing before his family or brother, muttering under his breath that was too low for her to understand, and others she would find him before the crypt belonging to his sister. He would cry but say nothing. He never said anything... but then she supposed his tears spoke for him.

"You know, there are other ways to spend time with your daughter... like riding, sparring-"

"Eliana."

That made her stop immediately; it was rare he ever called her that anymore, and when he did his tone was never warm... much like the wintry North where they were from, in fact. She never liked to hear him say it, because she became instantly weary and cautious, though she didn't know what she'd done wrong.

She glanced at her hands, sighing to herself as she stood patiently beside him, sensing the hesitation coming from him.

"He's not mine."

She looked up from her hands, a familiar crease forming in between her eyebrows as she turned to look at her father. "Father, what are you talking about?" Her voice was uncertain, as ambiguous as Ned had been himself as he stood contemplating his conflicts.

Returning her gaze, Ned gritted his teeth as he willed himself to say it, to tell someone of the burden he'd carried with him for years. Seventeen years. He could trust her... they were extremely close after all; they had always been close. But he had promised to tell no one but Ned thought she deserved to know. That she needed to know the truth. He loved her... He could trust her, he knew he could. "Jon... he's not my son, he's not your brother."

He watched her face slowly contort as the guilt of having kept a secret from her and him breaking his promise to Lyanna rattled through him. Several emotions flashed across her face which he found he couldn't read until it saw her settle solely upon anger. No, she was furious... especially if the looking she was giving was anything to go by; it was scathing that he nearly looked away. Her eyes were so full of anger and what he assumed was hate that it struck him to his core.

Clenching her fists, she let out a deep breath if she was to keep her anger at bay for the moment; she didn't want to react poorly but neither did she want to let it go. How could he keep this from them? From mother? From Jon? Letting out a shaky breath, she retained her scorching glance. "Then who? Who is Jon's father, father?"

The way she said it made him wince knowing he'd caused her anger... she felt betrayed, he knew. He could see it, he could it in the way he knew she loved Jon, how close he was to her. How she loved him, how she had protected him.

Ned hesitated, but he knew he couldn't back out. She had to know... and that meant everything.

"Rhaegar Targaryen."

Her face fell at the name, her mouth falling agape in revelation at the reasoning behind her father's conspiracy at having kept Jon's parentage hidden from them for so long. Her head snapped from him to look at the stone statue before them in wonder, looking at her with a sudden clarity.

Ned sighed, even when she hated him she was beautiful. Gods, if Brandon were still alive then the entire mess would have been avoided... Ned could have claimed Jon and Brandon would have had Cat, and is wife would have the Stark brother she wanted... not his replacement. Not second best. Only then he would be able to carry the guilt he carried alone, with no questions and no looks of shame being cast his ay.

But then he would never have his beautiful children; no Eliana or Robb to watch squabble and fight; no Sansa and Arya to make him laugh at their bickering; no Bran and Rickon to remind him of himself with his own brother...

"Lyanna..." He trailed off, his eyes also glued to the stone statue before them, making him feel as though he was been put to trial... but he also felt he was being atoned for his lies by speaking before her. "She made me promise not to tell another soul. I had to protect him, Lia... she was my sister and he is of my blood." He paused to look at her, only to see her eyes were trained upon the statue of her aunt, unwavering as he noticed the tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner but I didn't-"

"How could you?" She said interrupting his apology, though she found she didn't care for his apology. She didn't need to hear it; his apology was meant for mother and Jon, not her. She sent him another scathing look, one that told him she was still furious. "How could you let mother treat him like that... treat him like your bastard son when after all this time, after all this time he was your nephew! How?!"

Ned was taken aback by her outburst, not realising how it would affect her so, and neither had he cautioned the tears that began to fall from her eyes once she turned to look at him properly.

"Robert would have had him killed... would've named him dragonspawn, like Rhaenys and Aegon. They were butchered by the Lannisters at the command of Tywin, and presented before us..." Ned recalled with a shudder, the memory still managing to steal his sleep at nights when he would see the bodies of the two infants in his dreams, haunting him. "I imagined the same fate for Jon, and I couldn't bare to be responsible for such an act. I couldn't see that happen to him, and I wouldn't allow another innocent child to die at the hands of war."

His daughter remained silent, her head bowed as he spoke, not making any movement to interrupt him. "When we arrived at the tower... I feared I was too late, and I was. They weren't there for her, they were there for him... they didn't care what happened to her as long as the heir lived." Ned explained as his voice grew grave and his eyes turned solemn as he contemplated that day... the day he lost her. "I hadn't heard her until the Kingsguard were dead – I realised why they were there, guarding a tower in the middle of the Red Mountains. She was there, I heard her screams, her sobs..." Ned trailed off, his eyes reflected the endless torment he'd felt so long ago.

He jumped when he felt her hand rest upon his forearm, surprised at her movements knowing she was still angry with him, yet she had pushed that aside to will him to continue. "Howland and I... we helped deliver Jon, and gods they looked alike. He didn't look at all like Rhaegar, and that made it easier for me to keep my promise." He looked away from her then, sighing in defeat, his shoulders sagging, "They were in love, her and Rhaegar, they ran away together because she never wanted to marry Robert... she blamed herself for the war, I know she did." He let out quietly, as she watched him closely, realising she'd never seen her father look so small and so weak before... it was disconcerting. "It was Brandon's error... Benjen tried to tell him, or at least that's what I tell myself – to lessen the pain of not being able to save her in time."

Choosing to still not interrupt him, Ned carried on, his eyes shut tightly as he felt her fingers tighten around his arm possessively, reminding him of the way Lyanna had done so all those years ago. "She made me promise to not let anything happen to him, to not let Robert find out... to raise him as my own, with you and Robb despite what anyone may think." He opened his eyes and they immediately rested upon her, seeing her weariness wavering as she listened, her face softening at his words. She understood why he did it. "I couldn't let her die without her knowing I would give her son everything I could, I couldn't break my oath to her, Lia."

Nodding slowly, she cleared her throat once she gathered her father had finished, though she knew it would be overwhelmed with emotion. "She was your sister, I understand that... but you didn't have to keep it from us, from all of us." She took his face into her hands and forced him to look at her, his grey eyes meeting her own as she witnessed the dread and the melancholy swimming in their depths. "Mother would have understood, you know she would have. She would be angry and betrayed that you didn't trust her... but she'd forgive you because she knows the love you hold for Lyanna –we all do." Eliana pleaded with him, his hands trailed up to rest over her own, his grip warmth and scorching upon her skin as he held onto her.

"It was my burden to carry with me, Lia."

"And yet you've confided in me... why now?" Eliana questioned, still perplexed as to why he was bringing up the circumstances of Jon's birth to her, and why he was telling her. Her mother should be the one to know, and Jon. Why her? "So why now? Why not keep your seventeen year long secret?" She sounded so calm now, as if the anger had turned cold. He could still see the hurt behind her eyes.

"Because you deserved to know. Because I trust you." Ned said honestly. "Because I...because-"

"What?" She pressed, her hair loose down her back and blue eyes boring into him, red from having had no sleep, refusing to leave Bran's beside.

Eliana didn't know what to feel about her father's revelation. Relief? Anger? Betrayal? What was she supposed to do? Why couldn't he explain Jon the moment he was back in Winterfell? What was she supposed to feel?

Ned let out a shaky breath, his hands pulling hers away from his face and he remained holding them tightly within his own. "Because if anything should happen to me when we're South... I want you to take your sisters and get out of King's Landing as soon as you're able; once your safe, you must find Jon, and I want you to protect him." His voice was eerily calm, and it scared her, it scared her to see him that serious and equally terrified at the same time. It wasn't right. "No one can know about the nature of his birth. Not even your mother or Robb..."

The same crease formed between her eyebrows once again as she realised his wishes, "You would have me keep this from them?"

Sighing, Ned let go of her hands and ran a hand over his face, gritting his teeth; he knew it was hard but she had to understand why it had to be kept between them, why no one else was to know. "Lia, if the wrong person were to know about Jon's parentage... it's not that I don't trust your mother and brother, I just know that you will honour your aunt's wishes and you will honour mine. You've never let me down, and I doubt you ever will." Ned moved to tuck a lose strand of hair behind her ear, her hand lingered as he smiled softly at her. She had never let him down.

It nearly broke Ned that he had finally told her about Jon, and she had turned away from him momentarily. "I'm still mad at you," Eliana admitted, biting her lip, "You're a good man, but sometimes, you're too bloody honourable for your own good."

Ned pressed a kiss to her forehead, his smile remaining upon his lips. "It's a trait we Starks pass down to our children, Sweetling."

"Will he ever know?" She had to know if Jon would ever discover the truth, or would he remain in darkness for the entirety of his life... would be denied his birth right... would he be denied to take what was his?

"Some day, perhaps."

Eliana nodded in understanding, taking her father's arm as he offered it to her, her mind still unsettled from the revelation though she was thankful he had told her. She was thankful that he trusted her enough to tell her, and that made her heart swell. "I don't care about the facts of his birth; he's still my brother." She proclaimed, her voice echoing of the walls as Ned claimed the torch from its sconce, sending her a warm glance.

He smiled.

The bedchamber was cool and quiet in the pre-dawn half-light when Eliana blinked awake, feeling slightly disoriented for half a second, her body tensing and her breath coming in that of a sharp gasp that had been familiar ever since her father's execution. Eliana threw an anxious glance at Jaime, but he was still sleeping peacefully, as a shaft of pale light illuminated his features of golden hair that was jetting out in all direction, his arm strewn across her to keep her close against his chest.

Eliana clenched her fingers in the smooth fabric of the bedsheets and breathed deeply, trying to rid herself of the lingering sense of panic that had been brought on by her memories fused together a one torment. The last thing she wanted was to wake Jaime and expose how weak and foolish she had become.

She studied Jaime's face in the soft light... She didn't know what possessed her. Her hand trembling as she lifted it to trace the contours of Jaime's face, before she pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

Feeling her lips upon him, Jaime's eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Eliana with surprise which softened into something else, something Eliana couldn't place. For a long moment, they merely gaze at on another, in awe of each other.

"Why are you awa-"

Eliana placed a finger to his lips, his words dying in his throat as he stared at her, like a hare before the hound, as she stroked his bearded cheek, leaning in to kiss him again.

The kiss was neither chaste nor hesitant, but rather firm and purposeful; Eliana's lips were soft against his, but her tongue was burning and insistent, causing shivers to dance along his body. Emboldened, he slid his finger's into her hair and tangled them there firmly, causing a sharp yet quiet gasp to leave her lips as he sighed against her mouth.

"Come here," Jaime murmured, his voice oddly affectionate and sensual as he gently tugged her against him once more so they were settled face-to-face with their legs entwined and exchanging idle kisses to lips, cheeks and jaws.

Eliana could feel his warm breath against her skin as she reached for his stump to bring it to rest against her breasts, holding it there as he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closing.

Barely two moons had passed since the sacking of King's Landing and the city was still coming to terms with the horrors that had graced the capital. It was mostly in the buildings that had not been repaired, crimson and gold banners billowing through the city... The Lannisters had left naught but terror in their wake.

Jaime grimaced as he heard his father's words, having dreaded them since knowing of his intentions and having overheard Jon Arryn discussing such things with Robert Baratheon. How could he ship off his sister to someone like Robert Baratheon – the man was known for his infidelities! How could he?

However, Cersei accepted it in the manner that would please her father; she gave a please smiled and a gentle nod of her head. Over her father's shoulder however, she spied her twin lingering, no pleasure upon his features; his lips were pulled into a taut frown and he glowered at nothing. They hadn't seen on another since long before the Rebellion, the longest they'd ever been apart.

She'd always dreamed to be wed to Prince Rhaegar... but that dream had been rudely take from her and the person who had done so was to be her husband. But nothing would ever be taken from her again, it could never be taken from her. It was her's.

Without a pause, their father proceeded to explain that she was to meet King Robert where he would present her to him in the throne room; he also informed her of what she was to say and wear - Cersei had never liked being told what to say or do but she relented as it was her father.

"Please, Father," Jaime finally spoke before Cersei had the chance to say anything herself. "May I have a moment with my dearest sister before you have her shipped off like some Myrish silk for Robert?"

Despite his evident displeasure for Jaime's request, their father relented... He had what he wanted, and decided that his children would be happiest in one another's company after having been separated for so long... He gave them that at least. He'd forged an alliance with the Baratheons after their cause had succeeded... He was already forming new plots, and that was when he was most content.

Once he was gone, Jaime then made sure her handmaidens followed, Cersei having shoved them away, moving to close the door behind them. She hadn't even locked the door when her brother came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin atop her head.

They should be more cautious... The Red Keep had eyes after all, and ears, especially since Varys had been there anyway... and with him the Maester of Whisperers brought great promises of loyalty and service to the crown. If his little birds ever caught wind of her closeness with her twin. But it was Jaime; she would never deny him.

Bringing his hands to her lips, she held them there, kissing each finger as Jaime pressed himself closer against her... They would only find comfort in stolen moments. "Silk... That's all you'll be to him; he'll take his share and then fuck anything else he fancies." His voice was bitter... envy, Cersei though and it caused her heart to swell with excitement at the devotion of his love.

Turning to face Jaime, she stared at the face so much like hers but with a broader jaw with the gradual growth of golden hair sparsely across it. Touching his beard, she knew he guessed her thoughts. "I've been preoccupied as of late..."

It was no doubt the entire country was speaking of the Kingslayer from Dorne to the Wall... He'd earned pardon for his actions, keeping his position. "You have," Cersei replied quietly, "Guarding the new King." Their father was still displeased by Jaime's decision to continue wearing the white cloak, but Cersei knew that his position was a guarantee they were to never be separated again. "And soon you'll have a Queen to watch over..."

"You know the sort of man Robert Baratheon is... He won't honour his vows and he won't honour you."

Cersei wasn't stupid; she knew of Robert's appetites... He'd drink, laugh and boast and then fuck anyone he could get his hands on... He was a young lord without a care in all of Westeros. A man having won the war would leave his youthful vices behind for good. "He'll honour me."

"Oh, of course he will," Jaime sneered. "What did he do in his grief for the Stark girl? He fucked his way through Littlefinger's brothels."

The Stark girl...Cersei had only known of Lyanna Stark in passing but the betrothal between the maid of Winterfell and the Lord so far South as the Stormlands had caused much talk. She hadn't paid it any mind though, her focus had always been on King's Landing... Even after Rhaegar had married Elia Martell. Her father hadn't up the hope in a match, after all Elia was known to be sickly... Her father had her brought to the Red Keep soon enough, to watch and wait. She remembered the thrill when Elia had nearly died birthing a son, Aegon, and the court had sworn she would not survive a third child. But Rhaegar never looked to Cersei, instead his attentions had been won by the Stark girl and a dynasty shattered into ruins.

However a new one was rising, and Cersei would finally rise with it and Robert's grief would have no belonging in it. Lyanna Stark had taken Rhaegar from her; she wouldn't allow anything else to be taken from her.

Still she dismissed Jaime's growing concerns. "If he's to prove himself a King, he must act like one... Jon Arryn will see to that. And if he's to honour our father, he'll treat me as a Queen. Our father will see to that...as will you."

"I can't decide whether you're being naïve or just plainly conceited, sweet sister."

"Why can't you be happy for me?" Cersei bristled, gritting her teeth in vexation. "Can't you see what this means to me? For our family? I will be the Queen."

"And how joyous it will be!"

"It's his dream," Cersei spoke, "Any highborn maid in all of Westeros would do anything to be in my position."

Except Lyanna Stark apparently, Jaime thought. "I'm sure Robert will give them numerous opportunities to claim all sorts of positions."

Cersei knew Jaime disliked Robert but why couldn't he be happy for her? "You only say these things out of jealousy, brother."

"I only speak the truth."

Not her exact dream of marrying Prince Rhaegar, but yes, Jaime had the right of it – marrying a king could only be grander than her original hopes. The girl who'd imagined herself with her husband flying together on the back of a dragon still lingered... She'd gained new wonders of a reality and how beautiful they would be. "Don't you see? It's for the best; I will be the Queen and you a Kingsguard. Father can't send me home and neither can he remove your cloak. We'll be together... always."

"I'll be at your side as another man claims you for his own... it's what I've always dreamed of."

She should chide him further but that he had so readily conceded the source of his irritation - no matter how obvious it had already been - only warmed Cersei to him. She would make her own concessions.

"But you'll always be with me... what's better than that?"

Jaime had hoped for more. He knew she could see it in his eyes and he went to speak again, knowing what he said was of utter insanity. "We could runaway together -"

"Runaway? Are you as mad as the king you skewered?"

"Just think of it!" Jaime implored, a wide smile breaking out onto his lips as the thought rooted itself in his mind. "We could travel to the Free Cities and leave all this behind us. No Tywin Lannister or Robert Baratheon. Just ourselves."

"Father would never allow it." There was no other way of saying it; she had to remind her as much as she did Jaime. It was lovely to imagine... But she could never have it. "He would hunt us down; he'd never stand for us shaming our House, you know that."

"Oh, because we've not already shamed our House, dearest sister?"

But Cersei continued, "The dishonour of breaking a betrothal - to a King no less! Why would we turn away such power? Why would I?"

"What about when our beloved father had Elia raped and murdered... And her infant children butchered like live stock? What about when he presented them as gifts to the new King?" Jaime growled, Where's the honour in that? Those weren't the actions of an honourable man."

There had been rumors of what had happened to the Targaryen children and Lord Tywin's role in it, even at the Rock. Cersei had quieted them the best she could, more for her sake than her father's. Whatever actions he had taken, he had taken them purely out of necessity. That was the reason she'd given herself. "They were the actions of an honourable man; it was better than allowing them to flee to the Free Cities." Cersei had placed so much faith in a royal marriage because that was the most she could ever aspire to. She'd always known the course of her future... Yes, she doubted some parts of the path but she understood – she only wished Jaime did. "This is how it's meant to be sweet brother... If I married any other, I'd be taken from you. If you were not in the Kingsguard, you'd be wedded to some empty-headed maid to warm your bed and produce your heirs. You never wanted that. You chose this - to be near me. You wanted me."

"No, I wanted to be a great knight," He breathed softly. "I wanted to be Arthur Dayne or Ser Duncan the Tall –memorable. And now no one can say my name without remembering the oath I broke."

"You'll be grater than the pair of them; you'll be watching over someone far more worthier than Aerys... It'll be a much more pleasant sight too." She reached towards him, her hands guiding his own down her chest and over stomach...

He awoke with a shudder at the memory fresh in his mind; a memory that had been haunting him for longer than he could remember... long before his return to the capital, before he was taken prisoner by the Stark boy. In fact, Jaime recalled he was first tormented by the memory after pushing Lia's younger brother from that tower...

Perhaps it was his conscience getting to him and making him realise that he'd done plenty wrong and had to repent for the sins he committed through his years, starting with the Mad King. He couldn't help but think if he had declined Aerys's order to be a member of the Kingsguard that he may have avoided all the hassle he had caused. He should have heeded his father's advice; he should have married a suitable wife who would have given him the heir he deserved. He deserved an heir.

But if he had done so, then he wouldn't have met the woman lying beside him, content with her head resting upon his chest and her body pressed tightly against his side, her hands still clutching his stump as she held it against her chest. He smiled when he felt the tips of her fingers ghost over it softly, tracing patterns whilst she slept.

He wouldn't have had the chance to know her, warm to her and then fall in love with her if he had declined... and if he had done so, he would be miserable with his life; stuck with a wife he didn't love and a bunch of children he would have fathered out of duty. He knew it though, he understood it... Lia taught him love and respect, and to accept himself and his flaws but also, to do things for the better outcome – not out of impulse as he'd always been taught.

It was in the past; that wasn't who he was anymore... He had found true purpose in his life, and he wouldn't allow Cersei or his father to ruin it for him. His first chance at real happiness since it had been rudely taken from him by the Mad King. No way would he allow them to deprive him of that. No way.

Glancing around the room briefly, he noted that the sun was still out and so he guessed it was barely midday from the bright beams glittering through the drapes and dancing across the stone. Dropping his gaze, his eyes landed upon the direwolf that was lurking around the bed, watching silently him in return.

Smiling, Jaime moved to offer his good hand to the beast. Raising its ebony head of fur as it sniffed his hand cautiously, Jaime's smile widened when it licked his hand in greeting. "Good boy," He muttered, moving to scratch the beast behind its ears as it rolled onto its back much like a dog would do.

Jaime grinned, stretching, and moved to rub its stomach a few times before leaning back into the warm confines on the bed and then turned his attention to his lover.

Jaime ran his finger down Eliana's nose, smiling when she scrunched it up in response to the touch before he ran the same finger down the crook of her neck, fighting the urge to kiss her there. Sighing contently, his finger made a slow trail down her collarbone and straight down into the valley between her breasts, his fingers savouring the feel of her warm, soft skin as he found he would never get enough of touching and caressing her. He paused as she shifted in her sleep and sighed heavily, which he knew was the first sign that she would wake soon... and soon those blizzard orbs of hers would flutter open and stare at him with their usual suspicion.

He knew she despised it when he watched her whilst she slept, but he couldn't care less because he couldn't and nor would he stop watching. Gently, he slid his finger across her bottom lip and smiled as he recalled how he'd kissed it, savouring the feel of her lips against his own. She stirred again, smiling as her cerulean eyes fluttered open, gradually ridding them of the sleepiness whilst his fingers continued their restless wandering as her gaze zeroed in on him.

Jaime held her gaze, his hand trailing to her hair. "Hello, little wolf." He greeted, his grin widening as her eyes narrowed in suspicion, moving to swat away his hand at his persistent pestering.

Still watching him closely, Eliana's brow furrowed. "Were you watching me?" She asked.

Jaime slowly grinned down at the sleepy expression that had crossed her features. "And what if I were watching you sleep little wolf?" He whispered, pressing his face into her hair as he felt her squirm.

Eliana rolled her eyes at his arrogant tone and with a groan she lifted her goose-feather pillow and whacked him on the head with it. "Ah!" He rubbed the side of his head as a chuckle escaped his lips in amusement. "Seven hells Lia."

She ignored his protest and pushed at his shoulders, forcing him down on the bed, before moving to straddle him. "I told you; I don't like being watched while I'm sleeping."

He was suddenly moved by a coiling sensation of lust and immediate warmth that had flooded through his body, causing him to sigh as he moved to brush the hair out from her fair. "I don't care." He tucked the loose strands behind her ears before stroking her nose with his forefinger. "I'll just continue to watch you sleep." He added with an innocent smile, though she still narrowed her eyes at him. "So you might as well accept my... oh." He let out a sharp breath as her hand suddenly wandered, stealing his breath from him.

"That's what I thought." She paused before she chuckled to herself in amusement. Looking at his face, he frowned in question. "Did you pull a dagger on me in the time we slept?" Eliana pressed as he gave a breathless laugh at her jest.

Jaime went to steal another kiss from her but she climbed off his lap, reaching for a robe to wrap herself in as she left him lounging on the bed, smoothing her direwolf as she drifted past the beast to wander towards the desk that was strewn with papers, some read and some unread. Ignoring them, she turned her gaze to the map that had been lain across the table, her own scrutiny getting the better of her.

"What's the matter?" Jaime called out, reaching for his discarded pair of breeches, and then struggling to pull them up with his one hand. He tried his best to hide his struggle so she wouldn't see him, but he knew she would neither judge him nor laugh at him. Seeing his struggle, Eliana walked towards him and pulled them up to his waist before lacing them up.

Turning away from him, she drifted back towards the table and let out a soft sigh as she looked to the map. "You're a Southerner... You wouldn't understand." Stannis had a hard time understanding, even with directions...She never meant it in the way it had come out, it was just – what did Jaime Lannister truly know about the North? He'd grown up by the sea... He didn't know what it was like to live North, to survive North.

Reaching for his gilded hand, Jaime's frustration grew as he weakly fastened the blasted thing to his wrist, still hating how foreign it felt as part of his arm. It felt wrong. It made him feel feeble. He glanced up once it was attached securely, "You're right; I'm sorry I'm not of the North...But I'm not completely hopeless, you know." He sent her a crooked smile, moving to join her, his good hand resting upon her back as he looked down at the map. I have fought in wars... "I may be a one-handed cripple but I do know some things."

She saw him reach for his gilded hand – she wanted to tell him to leave, that he didn't need it with her but he'd already attached it to his right arm before she could utter a word. She felt his gaze upon her, and she knew her words were harsh and not necessarily in reference to Jaime specifically. "I'm sorry." She spoke, her eyes tracing the map in thought, her jaw clenched.

"Are you sailing past the Bay of Seals?" He pressed, frowning at the map then, trying to figure out her next move in her plan, glancing at her to see him being watched closely. "What?"

"What do you think?" Eliana tilted her head at him as she asked the question, placing the wolf marker in his hand, a smirk pulling at her lips as she watched him contemplate his answers.

He shrugged, truly not sure where they could go. Hardhome seemed the most obvious to him, but he doubted she would want to venture to a Wildling village anyway. "The farthest North I've ever been is Winterfell... How am I supposed to- oh, I get your point; a Southerner's struggle." He let out with a low chuckle of understanding.

"Storrold's Point."

Jaime frowned at he looked at the locations beyond the Wall, feeling his worry rise within him at comprehending her willingness to travel so close to danger with all the reports from the Night's Watch. "Why Storrold's Point?" Jaime breathed out, wanting nothing more than to prevent her decision to put her life on the line.

"Because Mance's army will be garrisoned in the Haunted Forest... It would be easier for us to make a move against them from there." Eliana gestured to the forest beyond the Wall by pointing to it before looking to the other places on the map. She moved the marker for her mother's house, and a marker for Stannis as she continued to speak. "One of third of our forces with sail up around Hardhome; Stannis plans to land from the Bay of Seals, and I will come from Storrold's Point." She summarised, a glint growing with her eye as she moved the wolf marker up North to sit on Storrold's Point. "They'll have nowhere to run."

Jaime sighed, "They say the Wildlings kneel for no one..."

Eliana looked to Jaime, a dark look upon her face, growing solemn as she nodded at his assessment. Yes, Stannis wanted them to kneel... She'd always known that, "It's Stannis who wants them to kneel, not me. They're great warriors..." She smiled at the look of uncertainty on his face, the faint crease between his brows. "I'd rather wager an alliance with them than murder them; they have numbers, and we need numbers if we're to survive." That had been her motive all along, the drive for her to make such a decision to journey that far North. She would never do such a thing without a true, substantial purpose ready for her to use to her advantage.

"And how do you plan to wager this alliance with them exactly? Do you mean to break your fast with this so-called King beyond the Wall?"

She laughed at his suggestion that had been purely made from his own confusion. "They want to get South; we'll let them pass through the Wall where they can settle in the Gift and farm the lands there as long as they swear to rally with the Northern Houses against any threats." Eliana explained calmly, her voice strangely articulate as though she had been practicing to say it to him, or anyone who would question her actions. "Internal or external."

It dawned on Jaime suddenly, and he could helped but praise her in his mind; praise her at the initiative she'd used to formulate her solution... an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. "You mean to use them against the Boltons in order to win back Winterfell."

Eliana took the Bolton marker into her hand held it tightly enough to make her hand turn ghostly white. "They say a hundred thousand march on the Wall... that's a hundred thousand swords that the Boltons don't have. It would provide an advantage." She let out in a hushed voice, her eyes harsh as she placed it back down.

"And how would your kinsmen respond to this?" Jaime gestured to the several Northern Houses; Mormont; Reed; Cerwyn; Hornwood and Glover before moving to the Houses sworn from her mother's side; Bracken; Blackwood; Smallwood and Mallister.

She sighed again as she drew up the Dornish marker, the Reach's marker and the Vale's marker. "I don't expect them to warm to the idea but if it means surviving, then why not give it a go?" She gave a soft shrug of her shoulders, a wry smile appearing on her lips. "Jon knows how to handle them; he spent time with them and I trust his judgement even if his fellow crows do not." Eliana glanced at Jaime to see his brow was still furrowed.

"They'll turn on him, you know that."

"Aye, I do." She tried to not wince at his words knowing how true they were, and just about managed a nod of her head. "I never wanted him there as much as my father did... it was his choice, and he's a stubborn sod at the best of times. He never felt at home at Winterfell, and it wasn't my place to force him to stay." She paused, her shoulders sagging at the thought as she looked to Jaime again. "Who was I to talk him out of it?"

Jaime gave a nod and left the topic of her bastard brother at that, and chose to change it for the best if it meant he could avoid irritating her or making her concern for her brother grow. "I forgot to ask you... how did you get so many to rally to your cause?" He wondered, watching as she moved the markers to put the troops from Dorne with those from the Riverlands whilst she grouped those from the Vale with the Northern Houses.

Moving Stannis's marker to join the troops from the Reach, she positioned them and stared with scrutiny. What would father do? What would Robb do? What would you do? You are the Lady of Winterfell after all... Lady Stark. She would need to be decisive and robust to deal with the bannermen of the North, and she couldn't be afraid because then no one would ever dare reject her or her terms. "I told them the truth; we're all going to die." She'd spoken as if she had been in some sort of trance, her eyes trained upon the map with interest but also with contempt.

Jaime's gaze narrowed further, his own eyes watching her facial expressions closely. "And that alone convinced them?" He quizzed, genuinely interested to how she had achieved such a thing so simply.

"That and some coin."

His mouth fell agape at her response, having not expected her to tell him that of all things. "But you-"

Glancing away from the map, Eliana met his gaze briefly before she turned away again. "The crown borrows the money, so why can't I? It's not me who has to pay when the Iron Bank calls for its due." She trailed off, her fingers drumming against the table's edge absently. "That's your father's responsibility, not mine."

In that moment, Jaime underwent a transition of emotions as she spoke... she'd just admitted to him that she'd been stealing from his father, cheating him out of his own coin and using it against him to bribe Houses that were supposed to be loyal to the crown to fight against them. It was ingenious and his father was still none the wiser about it as well... how had she gotten away with it? How had she deceived him so blatantly? She was a female version of Tyrion and he knew she was only just beginning to demonstrate the political savvy she had been keeping under rein from all of them.

Her fist clenched tightly as she gripped the edge of the table, her eyes maddeningly still and wide. "If I take his gold, I'll take his power."

"And if he finds out?" quizzed Jaime, knowing the complications that lurked in the shadows of her plan.

"The lion may be more powerful, Jaime... but your father needs to learn that the wolf doesn't perform in the circus."

He liked that she teased him, and he could tease her back. He liked how she listened to him like no one ever had before and asked questions about him, showing interest like no other. He liked her smile or when she used to smile at least... that had always been his goal, to make her smile or at least laugh. He loved her laughter. She was lustrous, ardent, and amiable. He liked flirting with her most of all, and most of the time he felt as though he was getting away with something he shouldn't, which was more exhilarating than he cared to admit, and it made him feel like a lecher. She made him feel clean and dirty all at once. She had a passion for life, and because of that, he felt his own life being restored.

His only issue was that he was struggling to read her... she had closed herself off and had grown guarded so suddenly and he didn't like it. It wasn't right; his Lia had always been so open and daring but she had changed. The capital had changed her... it had tainted her. Ruined her, in fact. But she was his beautiful disaster and he loved her, he would forever freely admit that. He loved her.

He wanted to devour her. He felt like he couldn't get close enough to her. Her scent surrounded him and it felt... right to have her body against his once more. "I love you." He loved her. He stopped moving and buried his face in her neck, afraid when he felt her stiffen... afraid he'd ruin everything they had.

"Jaime," She whispered worriedly and he felt her arms wrap around him.

"I'm sorry," He spoke. "I shouldn't have said... I didn't mean..."

She stiffened in his arms and then attempted to push him away. Was it possible that he'd hurt her by trying to take back saying it to her? He caged her in with his body and peered down at her, at the tears in her eyes as she attempted to hide them from him by looking away. "Eliana... Lia, please look at me."

"No."

"Why are you upset?" His brow deepened further when Eliana said nothing in reply and continued to recline into rigidness. "Tell me, please."

"No," She shook her head and tried to push him away from her, "Get off of me."

"No... I want you to tell me why you're upset all of a sudden." He paused, sighing. "Is it because I said I loved you or because I took it back?

She looked up at him, "Why did you take it back?"

"Because I'm a fool," He let out, "Because I didn't think you wanted to hear that." Immediately, her lips sought out his and it was clumsy at first, but soon he deepened the kiss due to his own wanton desire for her.

He smiled when he felt her lips trail over the line of his jaw and down his neck, her lips tickling as she did. "I want you... I love you." He whispered into her ear before taking her lobe between his teeth, his hand snaking around to untie the robe. However, she was suddenly gone from his grasp, causing his eyes to spring open in perplexity at the loss of contact.

Eliana had drifted towards the edge of the table, her shoulders hunched as she wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes staring into nothingness. "What is it?" His voice brought her back to reality but she looked worriedly shaken for someone who had been so serene mere moments before.

"Nothing..." She murmured dismissively, shaking her head gently, still refusing to look at him. However, her own guilt was rising within her the more she thought about the game she was playing. "It's nothing, I'm sorry."

But Jaime remained unconvinced by her dismissal, his eyes observing her closely as he moved to stand behind her. He frowned. "Is it us... is it this? Do you regret it?" He questioned, feeling his own regret rising in the pit of his stomach at the nonsense of thinking that the connection they shared would ever work seeing as she was married. "If you do, I-"

She looked at him then, wincing. "No. It's not that... and I don't regret it, whatever you may think, I don't." Eliana promised him, seeing the pain evident on his face at her rejection of his actions, though that wasn't what she wanted to do.

"Then what is it?" He saw the hesitation flash within her eyes at his question, seeing the revelation rising within their depths, the subtle panic lurking there. "Lia, you can tell me." He prompted, knowing she could either choose to tell him or not... he could never anticipate her actions or decisions.

Her mouth shifted downward, her eyes darkening. Gritting her teeth, she gave out a deep breath of frustration. "I was given a choice and I chose wrong... I acted on impulse rather than actually thinking anything through, if I had then maybe..." She stopped herself, feeling his eyes intensely observing her, unnerving her almost. "Maybe things would be different than they are; I had to take my freedom while I could before it fell into the hands of your father. It was mine to take, so I took it."

She insisted that she no longer believed in dreams... For too many had fallen away, having been crushed beneath the steely ironed fists of the merciless gods her father prayed to and the ones her mother did, torn to shreds by the wars and scattered by the harsh northern winds. What did she have left to lose honestly?

She'd been mistaken in marrying Oberyn, she knew that and had done for a while... she hadn't been welcomed with a sense of smugness or contentment at the notion of having become his life partner, his princess... it felt boring and dull. The excitement was gone.

But she had a duty to fulfil; she was Oberyn's betrothed and she was to honour her sworn vow to him despite her own wanton feelings. She had promised herself to him, she had declared herself his without knowing how it would feel to love another. How wrong it would feel to be attracted to another, to want another man... to want a Lannister.

It felt wrong; it felt wrong to admit when she belonged to Oberyn and when she had her son to think of... Alaric came above all else and she would vow to uphold her duty to him. But she couldn't deny her feelings for her guilt would consume her. "I love you." It came out as a whisper, her mind comprehending how easily it had fallen from her lips... So naturally spoken.

She could feel him behind her, shifting her shoulder and guiding her elbow gradually as his breath met the skin at the back of her neck, causing her to shiver. He stared at her for a moment, perplexed, before he at last leaned in to kiss her, his mouth soft and warm on hers. His lips slowly drew away from her mouth, brushing the shell of her ear. "Do you mean it?" Jaime murmured earnestly.

An arm slid around her waist, warm and firm, as he drew her nearer to him. His eyes studied her intently, her eyes shut as she nodded. "I always mean what I say..." He felt his heart swell and moved to kiss her once more, as though he couldn't quite believe that he'd heard her say such a thing... He had needed to make sure.

His mouth was warm and his beard was scratchy against her face but she didn't mind, she welcomed it. Her hands trailed up his chest to rest on either side of his neck, pulling him closer. The sensation were familiar ones and she felt comfort in feeling them resurface. My choice. Mine.

Jaime brought his good hand up to hold the back of her head, twisting into her hair, and she mirrored his movements, tugging him back to her lips when he tried to move away, biting his lip. He groaned and responded in kind, catching her own lips within his teeth. "Can this be?"

She couldn't smile. Smiles didn't feel real again yet. "I made the wrong choice... and I'm sorry for that; I should have seen what was in front of me the entire time but instead I was blinded." She moved her hips, pushing in closer, and the arm without a hand tugged at her waist reflexively.

Jaime didn't reply, he didn't move at all and the green eyes raked over her face, alight with a sudden lust. There was something of an oddity in his expression and she wondered for a moment what he may do knowing the feelings she'd neglected.

His hand slid from her hair to rest at her chin, pulling her face up until he could kiss and nibble his way along her jaw, finding his way to her neck as she sighed into it, arching her body until she was pressed firmly against his thigh.

Still at her neck, Jaime continued to lick and bite between breaths, causing a groan to rise in his chest when her hand trailed downwards whilst his own snaked up her leg, pushing under her robe. Feeling his thumb stroke at the smooth skin on the inside of her thigh, she kissed him again; slow, open-mouthed kisses that ceased in existence once he rested his forehead against hers. Snaking his hand around her waist, he pulled her tighter against him to kiss her softly, however with each movement, he allowed his teeth to graze her lips.

He smirked when he felt her suck on his low lip, running her teeth across it, causing him to pull back to stare at her before pressing her against the nearest wall. Taking a deep, suppressed breath, he held out his right arm. "Take it off," He spoke, watching her. "It's going to be hindrance otherwise." The thing was pointless; he couldn't do a thing with it so why would he need it at all?

Eliana hesitated only briefly before nodding, reaching for the straps and pulling them away gingerly, causing Jaime to moan when she ran a fingertip over the stump. He waited until she dropped the hand upon the ground, waiting for her and soon enough his left hand seized her wrist and pulled her forwards, gabbing fistful of hair as they kissed. It was less hurried than before, but there was the same subtle urgency lurking, and he wanted, oh he wanted to do a lot of things.

He smiled when she shivered at his movements, running the back of his hand over her neck, before trailing it downwards to pull at the ties of her robe, running his hand across her scarred stomach. "Just as I remember..."

Soon enough his mouth was on her again, hot and needy, trailing down her neck to her exposed chest. Beneath his touch her skin burned at his touch. With his hands busy at her waist, he pushed at her robe as it pooled at her feet, her own hands reaching for the laces of his breeches before he clasped her hands, running his fingers down her arms to the curve of her arse and the backs of her thighs.

Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she never pulled her mouth from his as he lifted her up and carried her across the room and back towards the bed. Once she was on the bed again, he pressed her chest into his before resting his weight on her, allowing himself to press into her thigh. He smirked when she gasped at the feel of her. Taking the opportunity, he captured her mouth as his fingers traced circles down the column of her neck, down and over her collarbone to her chest. He circled her breast with one finger, each circle growing smaller as he neared towards her nipple. Jaime smiled when he felt her arch beneath him, wanting him. Trying to pull her mouth from his, he followed her as he found he'd always be unable to resist her.

Jaime placed the tip of his finger on her nipple and held it there, pulling away from her mouth to look down at her breast. He then rolled the nipple both left and right, causing her to gasp, arching further into his hand.

"Jaime."

Hearing his name caused a sudden surge of dominance to rocket through him and he rolled atop her, placing his mouth on her nipple, laving it with his tongue. He stilled her with his hand that had fallen upon her ribcage as his mouth drifted to her other breast. He moaned when he felt her hands come up to cradle his head, holding him in place.

He moved his mouth from her breast gradually to run his teeth along her ribs and down her side, occasionally nipping at the skin. He licked her hipbone, ran his tongue across the crease of her thigh. Running his hand over her breasts, teasing each nipple as his fingers danced down her chest, he returned to her mouth momentarily to press a chaste kiss to them.

He raised his head and pressed his lips to her scarred cheek, kissing downwards until he reached her throat – he stilled at the scar there, the scar he had left there, the mark he gave her. He pressed his mouth against it, his mouth trailing along its length – he felt her pulse point beating against his lips whilst her hands were gripping at his shoulders.

Opening his eyes, he saw she was watching him – her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, and he regrets knowing that it (more than likely) it will be the last time they'll share an intimate moment for a long while. But he was struck with awe; she was looking at him the way he had been looked at all those years ago when he was knighted, and he felt his heart only continue to swell... He couldn't even recall the last time someone looked at him in that way.

"Jaime."

The way she had said his name caused him to pause momentarily as her hands ran across his scalp, massaging his head, almost causing a groan to emit from within him if he had lacked self-restraint. He ran his hand along the side of her face, coming to rest on her cheek, not bothering to hide the light concern lacing his voice. "What is it?" He lost himself in her eyes as her fingers stroked his hair.

Smiling to herself, Eliana moved to trace his lips with her forefinger, her eyes never leaving his as she did so. "You're good with your mouth."

Jaime grinned, leaning forward to steal another kiss... His mind wishing nothing more than the moments they shared would foretell their future with one another... that they may perhaps one day be married if the gods were just, and she would be his and only his. "And you're a bad influence." He implored, smiling against her lips.

"I hate this damn place," Eliana whispered into her cupped hands, dropping her grip as if to release the words so they could fly, to settle with a pair of imaginary wings that she couldn't adorn herself. She pressed a hand to her head, vaguely embarrassed by her own childishness that she would expect from Rickon, Bran or Arya, though it wasn't as if her mother or Olenna would hear it, they were far too busy conversing with one another. And still, her head ached the same as it always had for as long as she could remember...

Things had changed. She was tired, exhausted in fact... I'm so tired of being strong. Why can't I be foolish and frightened for one, that's all I ask. Clenching her jaw, she sighed as she felt a surge of unfamiliar hope rise within her. Se wanted to go home; home to Winterfell but her sisters and brothers were still missing. If she was to ever find home, she would need to find them first.

The Southern air felt thin in her lungs; thin enough to make her twist in discomfort in her bed each night, the sweat having beaded on her forehead for all the visions that plagued her mind. But neither did it help that they were becoming more frequent and vivid. She knew her armour would do little in helping her evade the heat, but she was on guard and she would forever be until her time in the capital was over and done.

Her shoulders sagged whilst another sigh fled from her lips, drawing Olenna's attention to her immediately, having wondered why the girl was staring out into the bay surrounding them with such fervour evident on her features. "Do you intend to ride in a melee, girl? A tourney?" Olenna called curiously, her brow rising up and onto her forehead as Eliana shook her head once she looked to the elderly woman after finally breaking her compulsion to watch the sun befall the bay. "Then why are you stood roasting in that bloody armour? Is there to be an attack?" The queen of thorns called out, glancing around them with intrigue.

"Fortunately, you are more liked than I..." Eliana replied, moving to pace around them, her eyes wandering elsewhere. "I have to have my wits about me; I have been attacked twice in the past couple of days... it's a precaution. I wouldn't be surprised to walk around a corner and be met with a sword anymore. Cersei wants my head, and I'm not prepared to let her take it." She paused and stopped suddenly to look at Olenna, knowing her mother was frowning. "I've come to like my head very much."

The elder women chuckled but her smile faltered when she gestured to the beast lying at the feet of Catelyn. "Is that why this beast is here with us?" Olenna pressed, though she didn't particularly mind the direwolf.

Catelyn smiled and smoothed the direwolf behind its ear as it licked her hand. "Olenna, the beast is tame." She knew that was a lie; if there was a threat, Shadow would deal with it... and the direwolf was ferocious at best.

Looking up from where she sat with Alaric between her legs, Obara sighed. "Protection. He's for protection." The little snake corrected as Alaric continued to babble away, causing her attention to go back to him as she talked to him.

Eliana shot Olenna a knowing look and went to reply until a voice floated through the air. "Protection is everything these days, grandmother." Eliana glanced around to see Margaery approaching them, looking rather shaken and not as composed as she usually was.

"Oh, Margaery! I'm glad to see you finally decided to grace us with your presence." Olenna called out to her granddaughter.

"Apologies grandmother, Tommen preoccupied me for longer that I thought." She answered, taking a seat beside her as Eliana moved out of the way, passing Obara a book about the Northern histories as the girl immediately smiled up at her.

Obara beamed, "You found it!"

Picking up Alaric, Eliana returned the smile. "I knew it was somewhere... just don't tell Pycelle otherwise we'll both be in trouble." She pressed a kiss to her son's brow, watching as Obara opened the book hastily.

Catelyn rolled her eyes, "And you just took it?"

"I don't ask, I take." She turned to Margaery with a slight frown, "I don't believe Tommen's quarters are particularly that far from the gardens..." Eliana observed as Margaery fidgeted in her seat and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, let out a small chuckle.

"That may be true..." She agreed, her eyes not quite meeting her own. "I fancied a longer walk is all, today is a day for such nice weather after the rain we've had as of late."

However, Eliana didn't believe her response to be of the truth... her body language betrayed her all too well... and it was disappointing.

Sitting beside her mother, Eliana sighed as Alaric immediately distracting himself with her hand as her other smoothed through his soft curls that had gradually begun to thicken on his head. Continuing to brush her hand through his hair, Eliana looked to see Margaery's eyes dart away from her which only caused her brow to flinch in question. Is she hiding something? "So, how is Tommen?" She chose to probe the farce to see how long Margaery could keep it up, and how assured she was with the lie.

Still not looking at her, Margaery hesitated before forcing a smile onto her lips. "The King was his usual happy self; warm and cheerful, so very unlike his brother."

Olenna nodded, "And that is why he is far better for you." She squeezed Margaery's knee, noticing her rigidness that both Catelyn and Eliana had clocked as well.

Margaery smiled and accept the wine Olenna handed her, "Yes grandmother, I quite agree." She replied as she looked to Catelyn.

Catelyn went to speak but was interrupted by her daughter, whose gaze hadn't strayed from Margaery's direction, her eyes trained upon her face to ready to detect any more deceptions. "He didn't have anything to say?" She wondered softly, resting her cheek on her son's head.

Margaery shook her head, "Tommen is a sweet boy; his words were nothing other than the usual interests of a boy his age..."

Her answer still didn't please Eliana; it was far too vague for Margaery. The Tyrell girl thrived on gossip, and she was leaving out so much... it felt wrong and out of place, and in no way believable. She was lying, that she definitely knew.

Having noted her daughter's questioning and marked it as suspicious, Catelyn engaged in conversation. "Your wedding to Tommen must be soon though..." She reached for her own wine whilst a servant arrived carrying another goblet.

"Oh, it is." Margaery smiled at the older woman kindly, "Hopefully this will be my last and happiest of them all."

"My princess," Eliana glanced up as she was handed the goblet which she accepted warmly as the servant bowed and fled. Looking at the goblet, she could see the steam rising from it and brought it to her lips, frowning at the taste she was meant with, finding that she was unfamiliar with it. It wasn't the usual sweetness and minty flavour of the moon tea however, she dismissed it.

She knew neither Olenna or Margaery would understand the true reason for why she was drinking it... They would deduce that she didn't wish to have another child if she was to go to war in the North which had been her intention but her mother, she knew her mother would know better. No matter the case of a child, she didn't wish to have a bastard for him to be treated as her brother was... It would be wrong of her to grant such a life to a child. She couldn't be responsible for such a thing.

Staring at her son, she smiled as she took in his face; his round, blue eyes full of curiosity and alive that clashed wonderfully with his curls that burned auburn atop his head. He looked such like Robb it pained her heart to glance at him, to smile and stare at him... But he wasn't Robb, Alaric was her son and he would be known by all the Seven Kingdoms. The venomous wolf... Her smile widened as he sat tucked into her side, busying himself with the rings upon her fingers, gurgling away in a tongue she wished she understood.

Chuckling, she pressed a kiss to his head which caused him to squirm at the gesture. Eliana sighed knowing she would have to leave him at some point, leave him in the safety of her mother... And she couldn't bring herself to think of such a thing, being separated from such a beauty, such a beautiful thing that made her life better, that made her happier. How could she abandon him to give her life to a campaign that was going nowhere... How could she betray her son?

As Olenna and Catelyn continued to speak with one another intently, Margaery watched as Obara began to question Eliana about the histories she was reading, pointing to particular parts on specific pages, her voice full of excitement and intrigue at the scribbles on the pages before her. "Did Bran the Builder really build the Wall and Winterfell?"

Eliana smiled, "Apparently so; he was also believed to have helped Durran build Storm's End when he was a boy." She added, gesturing to the page Obara had been reading.

Margaery allowed a soft smile to grace her lips at their interaction, watching as the young snake talked away as Eliana listened willingly without complaint. She had wished she could tell her freely what happened... but it wouldn't be without repercussions of her actions... of her choosing to betray her for the sake of Cersei.

Whilst Eliana faced the impending doom of the Kingsguard and the two guards, Margaery had departed from the alcove whilst having been met with the sharp tune of swords as they clashed with one another, making her cringe at the mere sound. She'd never liked swords... she didn't know how to use one; she was hopeless at the art of wielding steel to her advantage... her skill was seduction and temptation. The arts of being a woman. They weren't her weapon of choice, not like Lia. She hadn't wanted to leave Eliana at all... but she'd entrusted her with a task she endeavoured to see through. She couldn't let her down because of her own fear for her friend. She couldn't.

She had no idea where a girl of thirteen would be at that particular hour of the day but she assumed Eleanor would be with Catelyn if anyone. Children, from what she'd seen of Obara, Sansa and Alaric, gravitated towards the woman.

Retrieving the missive from where it was hidden, Margaery pulled it free and glanced at it, reading the writing upon the folded parchment. She allowed her fingertips to ghost over the writing, before she turned it over and open it, her fingers fumbling over the edges as she forced it open and read. Rally them. We leave in three days. Meet me at where we arranged with no delays. Her brows furrowed at the three sentences before her, though she failed to understand them. She had no understanding of what they meant or whom they were actually meant for.

Folding away the missive, she sighed deeply as she glanced around briefly, checking to see if she was being followed by anyone. It was clear, thankfully. But as she continued, she could help but feel unsettled at having read the contents of the missive. Lia was leaving her alone in the capital... her grandmother was already gone and she barely saw Loras anymore. She was scared, and the last thing she wanted was isolation. She needed company, company that she liked.

Striding along as her gown billowed behind her, she didn't register or notice the little of guards marching behind until a hand enclosed around her arm and yanked her into a sudden halt. Turning, she was startled to find that the hand, in fact, belonged to Cersei. "Your Grace." She curtseyed immediately, her grip tightening around the missive she held within her palm. She couldn't see it. She couldn't.

"Lady Margaery, where are you rushing off to at this hour, may I ask?" Little did Margaery know, Cersei had clocked the missive before she'd interrupted the girl's walking, she just wanted to see the quality of the girl's ruse and to see if she would actually lie to her face. "My son was looking for you." She added with a small, reserved smile.

"I'm carrying out an errand is all, Your Grace." She replied, technically telling her the truth, but she still made to flee before she was questioned further by a woman she detested. "I really must- "

"And what is that in your hand?"

"Oh, this?" Margaery asked dumbly, though she silently cursed herself when Cersei nodded as she'd gestured to the neatly rolled piece of parchment between her fingers. "It's my errand if you must know."

Cersei pursed her lips together and held out her hand. "I'd like to see it."

Margaery's breathing hitched whilst her eyes widened slightly, the grip on the missive hardening as she held Cersei's gaze with a steady head. Don't let it fall into the wrong hand, whatever you do..."Your Grace, I'm in quite a rush, I mustn't be delayed- " Margaery made to move away but she failed due to Cersei's guards, she cursed herself silently at her own foolishness.

Nodding to the nearest guard, the missive was rudely and rather forcefully removed from Margaery's grip only to be placed in Cersei's awaiting palm. Her eyes continued to watch Margaery as she anxiously watched her fingers break the seal of the direwolf and unroll the missive, her eyes gradually leaving Margaery to read the content upon the parchment. Cersei's brow furrowed, "Rally them... Is that code for something or does she hope to gain an army?" Cersei questioned in perplexity, gritting her teeth before she looked back up at Margaery. "... Where is she?"

Margaery's insides chilled to her very core, her face paling. "Who Your Grace?" She responded, wanting nothing more than to have waiting behind the alcove if it would have meant she could have avoided Cersei. "Who are referring to you?"

Rolling her eyes, Cersei sighed and tilted her head at the young woman, sighing deeply in annoyance at Margaery's pathetic decision to play the dumb damsel she knew she wasn't. "The treacherous whore; the Northern cunt; that wet dog... Where is she?" She demanded, stepping towards her, her eyes shining deadly as her breath his Margaery's cheeks. Cersei bristled when Margaery didn't answer. "Why do you have this? Who is it for?"

Margaery stilled when she knew she had a little choice of options... she wanted to be the Queen above all else, and she couldn't let anything get in her way to glory. She was destined for that... it was all she ever wanted, and she wouldn't let a missive to some servant girl take it away from her; she wouldn't allow her title to be usurped any longer. "Eleanor." Margaery spoke, and she immediately regretted the decision, knowing that Lia would hate her for divulging her plans. She'd betrayed her, and words were just as bad as swords.

"Eleanor?"

"Eleanor Mooten, betrothed to Dickon Tarly." Margaery explained shortly, having remembered her father mentioning it to her not so long ago, though she hadn't taken immediate notice of the betrothing between the two houses.

Cersei continued to watch her closely, she cautious as to Margaery's unexpected willingness to give her the answers she sought. "But she's... That traitor has put you up to this hasn't she?" Cersei suddenly demanded, her hand seizing Margaery's wrist as she gripped it tightly, causing her wince slightly at the ferocity of the grasp, clearly having not expected her movement.

Margaery knew she was playing a dangerous game, a game there was no running from any longer... but that was the game of thrones... and she knew you either won or died. She only meant to win. "She forced me to Your Grace... I- I was given not alternative." She managed, her voice lacking its typical serenity and steadiness, her guard ruptured by Cersei's actions that had startled her.

"She forced you? Why would she do that... what would possess her to do such a thing?" Cersei was curious suddenly; she needed to know why Eliana held Margaery so highly within her trust when she was so willing to out her plans to her behind her back... what was Margaery Tyrell to Eliana Stark and what threat did they pose with one another... "Why would she do that?"

Margaery went to speak but stopped herself, "She..."

Cersei's brow twitched in interest and nodded for her to continue, "Go on, you can tell me. You can trust in me, Margaery." Cersei knew that Margaery would never place her trust in her; she didn't expect her to... but it was desirable all the same, and she was desperate to see if it could happen.

Struggling for an answer, Margaery didn't know what to say that would please Cersei... she didn't know what to answer with so Cersei would be please with her cooperation, that what would be a suitable response to entice Cersei. "She... Eliana- she uh, she- "

"Just spit it out girl!"

Margaery didn't know what possessed her to say it, but it came to mind so suddenly that it frightened her at how willing she was to betray the trust she had fortified with Eliana... she had thrown it away, and for the liking of Cersei Lannister. How stupid could be? And for what? Lia would never forgive her; Lia would hate her... and she deserved to be hated. "She swings both ways, Your Grace." Lia would never forgive her.

"Oh," Cersei's lips curled upwards into a smirk at the words, "Do tell me more."

And she did.

Margaery continued to stare at Eliana with concern evident in her gaze, the guilt pooling in her stomach at having outed her to Cersei if it meant she could be Queen. She had betrayed her trust, and to a Lannister of all people... how could she?

Hearing the clatter of footsteps against gravel as it echoed through the gardens, Margaery's gaze shifted when she witnessed the approach of a broad man with a muscular build and stocky arms, his walnut hair bouncing as he marched towards them, his brow furrowed.

Coming to a sudden halt, he straightened his vermilion jerkin and cleared his throat. "Lia." His voice was soft as it always had been and Margaery felt in awe of the man courtesy of his intrusion as she watched Eliana slowly turn.

"Thomos!" She smiled widely, passing Alaric to her mother to embrace the man warmly as he returned her hug without protest. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes... Gods, where have you been?" She pulled away to pour him out a cup of wine as he bowed at Catelyn, Olenna and Margaery.

"Following you orders Lia." He replied with a sudden grin, the flashing of teeth. "My ladies, I apologise for intruding but I have urgent... things to discuss." Thomos announced as her gaze fell upon Obara, who was watching him curiously. "Forgive me, and who are you little lady?"

"Obara Sand of Dorne." Obara informed shortly, her voice sharp enough that it made Eliana laugh as Thomos chuckled.

"You're very like your father," He commented as he took the wine from Eliana, looking back at her. "I bring news from all over the country." Thomos reached inside his jerkin a withdrew a pouch to hand to her.

"Well, your news better be bloody good." Olenna commented, as Margaery's hand fell on her arm and she held back a chuckle at her grandmother's behaviour to strangers. "Even if you are quite dishy, Ser."

Frowning, she untied the pouch and emptied the contents into her palm and saw several rolled up missives. "Which is the good news?" She pressed but Thomos's face remained grim at her question, and she knew that none were good.

Taking one into her hands, she unrolled it and read it quickly, sighing in defeat but she understood the circumstances. "What is it? Who is it from?" Her mother called to her in worry, causing Eliana to glance over at her.

"I spoke with him when we met on the Kingsroad," Thomos explained sourly, "I tried to persuade him otherwise but he was obstinate in his decision; he didn't want to lose anything else to those sons of whores... I don't blame him."

Eliana bit her lip and nodded, her eyes squinting at the words written across the parchment. "It's Brynden... he's gone back to Riverrun; he fears that the Freys will attempt another siege at the forces garrisoned there." She explained curtly, but her mother's brow dipped and she knew she feared for her uncle's life and safety. She handed it to her and reached for the next, "He'll be safe mother, don't worry."

"It's not him I worry for." Catelyn breathed, clasping her hand quickly as Eliana halted in her movements, searching her mother's gaze briefly before squeezing her hand to assure her otherwise. She needn't worry over her...

Unrolling the next, Eliana sighed at the seal as well as she recognised the hand she was met with. "What exaggerations will he boast about now..." Whenever she heard word from Stannis, it was never good.

Lady Eliana Stark,

I thank you for the numbers you've brought to our shared cause, however, I fear your arrival will continue to be postponed until you've settled whatever business you have in the capital.

I will not wait forever; I have a kingdom to conquer. My ships sail with or without you in a fortnight to Storrold's Point as planned.

King Stannis Baratheon,
Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

Running a hand over her face, she passed it to Thomos who read it with scrutiny. "He does love dramatics, I'll give him that." Once he was done, he handed it to Catelyn who read it thoroughly. "He doesn't know the North as well as he thinks he does."

"He'll wait for us," Thomos added.

"Have you ever known Stannis Baratheon to be a patient man?" Catelyn questioned as Eliana closed her eyes in frustration.

"More patient than Robert," Olenna reminded them all as they all looked at her. "Do you mean to tell us what is going on?"

Thomos frowned, his eyes surveying the two Tyrell women who sat at the table with Catelyn. "Forgive me, my ladies but how do I know we can trust you? I barely know the pair of you..."

Eliana hesitated, knowing that Margaery was hiding something from her and she didn't like knowing that she was after everything... but she did trust Olenna, that she could admit no matter how foolish it always seemed. "We're allies; you can trust in them, Thomos." The man nodded but remained quiet. "I'm sailing North to rally what loyalists remain across the country..."

Olenna raised a brow, "To do what exactly?" She prompted.

"To win a war," Eliana spoke without missing a beat. "I've allied myself with Stannis, so that we have the numbers to take the North back from those who stole from me... once I am finished with those who wronged my family in the North, I will flush out the other traitors root and stem, Tywin Lannister among them."

Margaery sat forward, "You mean to kill them."

"That would be a bloody start." Thomos added, folding his arms across his chest as he looked at Margaery who had been watching him closely and his interactions with Eliana... She was a pretty face with an old name... nothing more.

"Take his home. Take his gold. Take his power."

Olenna sighed, "And what will Jaime say about all this? What will he say about your desire to kill his father?" Olenna knew of the love Eliana held for Tywin's heir, the love that had formed o unknowingly between them to knock them both sideways.

Eliana nodded, "He knows of my plans; I've not kept them from him... he needed to know, so I told him."

"And?"

"He gave neither support nor protest." Eliana concluded as she retrieved the next one, and frowned briefly when she noted the black crow of the Night's Watch to be the seal, unrolling it and beginning to read with a heavy heart, knowing it wouldn't get much better.

Dearest sister,

The Wildlings will march on the Wall soon enough, Mance is waiting for the right time to light the biggest fire the North has ever seen... I've just returned from a ranging party North - a band of mutineers had to be dealt with after the murder of Lord Commander Mormont. It was justice... but I'm not well liked here. My brothers won't listen to me; perhaps it is of my low birth but I know what's coming for us all. It will be a battle we can't win... our numbers are too few. I have Sam, Grenn, Pyp and Edd... but Ser Alliser won't listen to anything I have to say, he's a stubborn but blind man.

Lia, I need your help. I would not ask this of you unless it was absolutely necessary – I should have listened to you. I chose wrong sister. Please come... I've nowhere else to turn.

Your brother, Jon.
Now and always.

Her thumbs ghosted over his name, her brow furrowing at the contents as her heart dropped in her chest, her worry for her brother growing as she knew of the imminent threat upon the Night's Watch and his life. "It's Jon." Eliana spoke, her eyes rereading the words frantically as she folded it away without offering it Thomos nor Catelyn.

Catelyn sat up suddenly at the name, her interest naturally piqued at the mention of her husband's bastard, watching as her daughter swallowed thickly at whatever was written. "What does it say? How is he?" She pressed, her sudden concern for Jon surprising her, realising she'd come to care for him after having treated him poorly for so long.

Hesitating, Eliana sighed whilst her hand tightened around the missive protectively, feeling suddenly defensive over her mother's questioning but also because she didn't want to divulge the threat she was willingly going into. "He's well, sticking kicking at least... Mance Rayder is nearing the Wall. He's worried, just as he should be." She turned to Thomos, her hand clasping his forearm. "Wildlings are a frightful bunch... Are you scared of them?"

Thomos shrugged before he chuckled. "I've no reason to be afraid of dead men... But no, I've never met one." Thomos explained softly, though he was slightly apprehensive about going that far North to prevent them from besieging Castle Black.

"Good."

Letting go of his arm, she picked up another and stilled when she saw the seal of the mockingbird... Littlefinger. Breaking the seal harshly, Eliana forced the missive open as she raked her eyes over the contents.

Eliana,

I write to you in a hope to express my deepest condolences in regards to the death of your aunt, the late Lysa Arryn. She passed a few days ago after committing suicide, and has left the Vale in deep mourning. My uncle, Lord Baelish, wishes me to write to you in order to inform you that he shall continue to honour your shared terms as long as you hold up your end of the bargain.

He plans to ride North with a little bird to wager an alliance with a great Northern House that many have underestimated but since the demise of your House, they're rising through the ranks and mean to take everything that once belonged to you. He means to rise with them.

You must hurry.

Alayne Stone

Her mouth fell agape in the understanding of another betrayal being thrown at her... she should have never trusted him in the first place; she'd made the same mistake her father had done. How had Lysa died... her aunt had been in good health. The Moon door. Baelish meant to betroth Sansa to Ramsay... she couldn't let that happen, she wouldn't allow her sister to befall a worse fate. "Thomos... Remind me when we leave to pay the Vale a visit."

"Why?"

Eliana ground her teeth together, "Littlefinger's a dead man... And from my experience, dead men don't walk for long." The missive crumpled in her hand as she felt her anger fizzle through her like wildfire, causing her hands to shake in her fury.

"Lia, what is it?" Catelyn called out, worried as Obara put her book down to also watch. "Has something happened to Sansa?"

Looking to her mother, Eliana let her shoulders sag in defeat. "Mother..." She trailed off as she contemplated how to tell her her sister had died despite them not being as close as they once were as children. She hesitated, seeing her mother's worried glance. Her shoulders sagged. "Lysa is dead... She threw herself from the Moon Door I would assume or that is what we'll be told."

Catelyn's heart sank at the words of her sister's death... another family member taken from her so soon? She was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion as her breath hitched in her throat, swallowing thickly she tried to speak but she couldn't; she was afraid she would begin to sob at the loss of the sister she'd grown so distant from. Taking a deep a breath, Catelyn composed herself and let out a shaky breath before willing herself to finally speak. "And what of Sansa? What of your sister?" Catelyn whispered, her voice sore and faint.

Glancing at the cursive writing of her sister, Eliana smiled briefly as her fingers ghosted over the alias she'd used, realising that her sister wasn't as foolish as she'd originally thought. "She's using an alias, Alyanne Stone and is posing as Baelish's niece." She explained, her voice having grown quiet but still composed as it had been despite the fear she felt for her sister. The news of having been betrayed yet again, and the predicament she was being forced in to against her will. She doubted she understood fully.

"And?" Catelyn prompted, noticing how her daughter had stilled, obviously not wanting to say anything more in front of the Tyrells. It can't be good..."You said you want Baelish dead... what has he done?" What has he done to Sansa?

But Eliana didn't answer her question... she didn't want either Olenna nor Margaery to learn of the compromised position she'd put her family in, the one she'd forced Sansa into... She wouldn't give them satisfaction of having failed. She wouldn't. "Forgive me." Was all she said as she took the last one into her hands, freezing when her eyes fell upon the seal. Her blood ran cold at the sight of the flayed man belonging to House Bolton.

Breaking the seal, she let go of the breath she'd been holding as she allowed her eyes to read the words upon the parchment, her eyes growing dark as she read what little contents lurked there.

Eliana Stark
the Treasonous Cunt from the North,

Winterfell is mine. Come and see.

Lord Ramsay Bolton
Natural born son of Roose Bolton,
Warden of the North

Gritting her teeth, Eliana blinked as her eyes zeroed in on the words written in the scruffy hand of Ramsay Snow. Neutralised by another bastard doesn't make you a lord..."If it's war they want... it's war they'll get." Dropping the missive, she turned and marched from the company of women to flee. I will take what is mine, and not even Ramsay Bolton will be able to stop me. Out of anger, she flew past several pots, forcing her boots into them, cracking them as the soil spilled across the path.

Standing, Catelyn stared after her daughter as she abruptly excused herself, striding down the path and knocking over several plants in her fury. Catelyn watched as Thomos bent down to retrieve whatever had angered her daughter, reading it before handing it over to Catelyn. Winterfell is mine. Come and see. Catelyn sighed at the words, "This is what he wants... to drive her mad so she will do something as crazed as go to war with him. You can't let her." She grasped his forearm, her eyes piercing his own as she gripped his skin tightly.

Thomos sighed in defeat, his large hand enclosing around Catelyn's nimble one upon his arm. "It's not my place to question her."

"You're her friend." Catelyn persisted, wanting nothing more than to let the tears threatening to fall leave her eyes.

Thomos nodded at her statement; there was no lie in it, he was her friend but that meant nothing in being able to sway Eliana's decision. "Friendship won't sway her decisions but family will." Thomos countered, watching as her face contorted in understanding.

Shaking her head, Catelyn let out a sigh of irritation. "She won't listen to me."

"And you expect her to listen to me?" Thomos asked incredulously, almost laughing at Catelyn's optimism of his chances at her persuading her daughter. "She wants war; she'll endeavour to get it, you know that. She's wants to take Winterfell back for you, and for her sisters." Thomos implored as Catelyn merely stared at him as he did, transfixed by his words before she even contemplated a response.

"I expect you to talk some sense into her... You've fought with her before; she'll listen to you, she trusts you."

Pocketing the missive, Thomos moved to take both of her hands in his, holding her gaze steadily. "That doesn't mean anything. She would have listened to Robb; to your lord husband; to Jon if he was here... not me." He paused, glancing down briefly as he let his shoulders drop in disappointment of reality. "I am not important enough to her for her to listen to what I have to say."

Looking between the river lord and Catelyn, an idea sparked within Margaery's mind a she rose from her seat to drift towards the pair, her hand falling upon Catelyn's shoulder softly. "What about if I were to speak with Lia?" She suggested, not missing the sharp look Thomos shot her from where he stood, obviously not liking her suggestion.

Letting go of Catelyn's hands, Thomos folded his hands over his chest and tilted his head in Margaery's direction before gesturing to her. "Forgive me, my lady but why would she listen to you?" He pressed, raising an eyebrow at her in wonder.

Margaery smirked. "I've known Lia a long time; she trusts me."

"Their friendship is robust, Ser." Olenna added, however Thomos's gaze didn't waver from her granddaughter and instead he stepped towards her.

"A pretty face," Thomos plucked a curl from her shoulder before he let his finger trail across her jaw, trailing down her neck to dance down her arm entirely. "Three years doesn't allow the same strength of a bond to form like one from childhood, my lady. Lia and I have known one another since we were children and she will not listen to me – what makes your friendship any different?"

Catelyn winced at Thomos's regard towards Margaery despite knowing the truth behind his words, she couldn't help but feel that the Tyrell girl could get through to her daughter somehow. "Maybe Margaery's right..." She trailed off as he gradually looked back at her, his eyes narrowing.

"And if she's not?" Thomos questioned sharply, his voice growing harsh as he spoke. "We're marching to war either way, Catelyn. There's no avoiding it..." Thomos look back over at Margaery, his eyes surveying her stature briefly, not seeming particularly interested. "No matter how close the bond you share. Or attraction for that matter." He informed them curtly, his temper growing short but Margaery persisted.

Soft laughter filtered through the air as Margaery moved towards where Obara sat with Alaric in her arms, talking to him. She let her hands run through his curls before pressing a kiss to his brow and sending Thomos another smirk. "You'll compromise her; you're attracted to her. You'll let your emotions get in the way... I won't." Margaery vowed with assurance, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Our friendship is as intense and meaningful as any romance."

The cliffs at Casterly Rock had been a difficult place for Tywin to venture after the departure of his wife – he day he felt as though his life had departed from the world. It was supposed to have been a day full of joy and of celebration but it had turned into the end of his life – not in actuality, but it had felt like it from then onwards. He had never truly understood what people meant when they spoke of grief of losing a loved one, the aching hole inside... But he knew of the jagged rent through his being that drained his very spirit from the world, leaving him empty and crippled.

He had a son. A son who would carry his namesake, a daughter who looked so much like her but the love for them was nothing compared to love he bore his adoring wife – however, it was secured within his heart, solidified in his face and eyes and hidden but there. Ultimately, there was the disdain for the monster that had killed Joanna; he couldn't outright hate him, despite as much as he willed himself to do so... The Imp carried her blood as well, and he was the head of a dynasty that carried her blood.

He had visited the cliffs once, whilst Jaime and Cersei rain on, jumping and cavorting all over the bluffs; the place he had shared with Joana, when they were younger and when they were joined together in unity, where their ambitions for their future had been daring. How they had planned together with his logic and the daring leaps of faith of his wife... But that black period after her death had eliminated all of those plans, falling around him, stone by stone, rock by rock.

Stones could be piled once again, just as simply as they had come crashing down... All it took was a little ambition to see it through but despite the epiphany, he didn't dare visit the place again.

Staring out of the bay of the Blackwater from the Tower of the Hand, Tywin let out a low sigh of discontentment as he was eerily reminded of the cliffs back at his home, Casterly Rock, the unwelcome notion of remembering his tenure as Hand of the King twenty years prior to Aerys... You couldn't resist the badge, you damn fool.It was the only thing he could offer his family; his daughter would lose her status as Queen and his eldest son refused to carry on the family legacy by marrying whilst his other had been locked up once more. Since when had his life gotten so confusing?

He could barely recall the time of happiness where he felt ease and content with the life he has forged for his young family... But all that had been thrown to ruin for the sake of Tyrion, it was Tyrion who had ruptured and uprooted it.

It had been Tyrion.

All of the Seven Kingdoms knew that Joanna Lannister had returned to Casterly Rock pregnant and all of the Kingdoms suspected that the child was a Blackfyre and not a Lannister. Many knew of the King's love for the Lady of Casterly Rock... And the possibility of Aerys having fathered the babe in Joanna's womb but even if that was the case the child would never be told about its possible parentage so there would be no threat to the throne and would avoid any threat to a future Rebellion.

Tywin and Joanna had talked about names and while he didn't care much, she wanted to name her son Tyrion after her grandfather and of course, Tywin was willing to allow her anything if it meant her happiness... As long as his lady wife survived the birth, Tywin didn't care what name she chose for the babe for she was all that mattered to him.

When Joanna went into labor and the hours that followed Tywin was forced to wait impatiently outside, wanting to be with her but Joanna had refused him profusely. So he was left no other option but to wait the strenuous torture that followed; something he wasn't accustomed to doing. The hours dragged on, and his worry increased as she hadn't suffered as long in labor with the twins. When his patience had finally reached its threshold, he barged in to be met with a horrible sight. Mouth agape, he stood as Joanna lied bleeding out heavily while the Maester was working furiously between her legs. Swiftly, Tywin moved to her side and immediately gripped her as he shouted to the Maester. "Do something, you damn fool!"

Looking to him, the Maester stuttered out a reply, "My lord, the babe will not come... It's stuck and I fear if it doesn't come out soon, they will both die."

But the blood never ceased after that.

Tywin had always promised him that there would be no tears in his unity to Joanna, from his side at least. They would marry, have children and they would grow... They would have a wondrous life. He believed in his petty lies and he placed belief in the Gods and look what they gave him in return. Instead, it took the only thing he ever loved from the world, ripped her from his arms to never return to their warm embrace.

Life wasn't fair, he knew that, he grew up knowing that... When his father gave Genna away to a Frey; when his father was too weak to protect them against the Reynes... He learned life wasn't fair and that it wouldn't get much better after that.

But Joanna had been the difference he needed. She was sunlight, the air that let him breathe- she was his wife and she had been taken from him whilst he could do no thing to stop it. And that killed him, made him ache physically in his bones and in his chest.

He refused to hold that deformed creature after that. Tyrion. He can't even stand to look at the son who killed his mother to come into the world.

Jaime had asked to hold Tyrion in a hope to stop his brother crying but Tywin hadn't known what to say to his son, and so he never answered. He knew that neither Jaime nor Cersei would understand the circumstances but none of that mattered to him... He wasn't sure what to think of it. His mind thought only of Joanna and the pain left in her wake, a never ending torment of her last moments in his mind.

He recalled Cersei coming to him when the babe had cried late one night, tugging upon his sleeves and demanding to know why the babe was so upset, asking if they could get rid of it, but he couldn't even look to his daughter for she reminded him of his departed wife in looks and it pained him to cast his glance her way. He never wanted to hear those things coming from her of all people, but then again he didn't want to hear much of anything after Joanna's death.

It felt wrong to share a home without her, for she would never return to it. She would never share their bed again, nor share meals or watch their children growing and neither would they grow old together. Joanna would never come home.

She would never come home. Joanna was gone and he'd never hold her, never get to embrace her and never hear her tell him that she loved him. He would never get to do anything that he loved... That would never happen again. Joanna was gone.

Tywin doesn't cry... He would never cry again, he would never hurt in that way again. There was more to the world than pain and he would rid it away from himself if he had to.

Tyrion would grow and would have a chance at life. His son, his second son and Tywin wished nothing to do with that, he didn't want to interact with something that had been the cause of – A small part of his mind willed him to not say such a thing, that a babe wasn't capable of such things. That a babe was innocent, and that it's not his fault but he couldn't bare to push it away, he didn't want to. Neither did he want to forget or forgive, or love or hate for that matter.

And when Tyrion cried late into the night inside the room that he and Joanna had forged for the babe to grow strong and thrive within its walls, Tywin Lannister reminded himself that does not cry.

Forcing the door open, Catelyn let herself into the room, not caring in the slightest for any resistance she may have been met with... But there wasn't any, not guards to stop her only a brooding Tywin Lannister lurking near the far window, scowling over the bay.

She would fight him until she won; it wouldn't be hard... He was an old man, and he wasn't getting any younger – she had a daughter with an army larger than he knew and what did he have? A pair of incestuous twins as well as two Kingslayers for sons.

She had fought her way through Robert's Rebellion, alone and forgotten... Even after her sudden marriage to Ned she had fought, fought through the realisation of her pregnancy and how desolate she had felt. How worried she'd been for Ned, trying her best to not picture him being burned alive like his father. Cat fought through the bitterness and fury of Ned having returned with little Jon Snow, what she thought had been proof that he had no care for her despite the two children she'd already bore him; she thought Lia and Robb were proof of their love but still, she fought on.

Despite that, she'd grown to love Ned, especially when she would see him playing with Robb or reading to Lia... He had warmed at the presence of their children and it was wonderful to witness. When Sansa was born, she feared he would be displeased with another girl but had felt a burst of relief when he'd picked up their daughter with his rare, bright smile.

But fighting then would be different than the next fight she was to face; Tywin wasn't Ned. Tywin wasn't anything like the man she loved... Tywin was harsh and bitter but that didn't mean she would be dissuaded from her desire.

The man had vowed to her daughter that he would restore their homeland to Eliana, and she was there in his chambers to make sure he upheld his side of the arrangement. I will be as strong and cold as the North, Ned, Catelyn thought as she solidified her place in front of his desk, watching him closely.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Catelyn."

She cringed at his tone, which was, of course, polite but the words were sharper and brittle than any knife she'd encountered – she'd disturbed him, caught him off guard... Angered him perchance, and she hoped that would only aid her attempts further. She expected no less from him though; it was just how he was, how he'd always been and she doubted he would change to suit the likes of her.

The problem was that she could handle his sharpness better than most people; and he still wasn't quite used to her composure at being able to do so... He always seemed somewhat eager to push her over the edge, like he wanted her to snap at him so he could gain some leverage but she wouldn't. Not today, not when she needed to establish dominance over him. Either way, they knew one another and how they worked, and so their interaction was always the same.

Except now she was compromised due to Lia's eagerness to ride into war by the arrival of a simple, antagonistic note from a flayer in the North. How grateful she was to the Old gods and the New that she hadn't married that mad dog and had chosen a kind man, but the wrong man.

Catelyn turned around, a light and tight smile on her face, to face her adversary, Tywin Lannister. Adorned in all black, the Lord of Casterly Rock was the very picture of the firm justice Catelyn remembered; his posture ever so clearly etched with apprehension and caution upon her intrusion. Catelyn could see that he practically demanded a proper distance and reverence within his chambers. She steadied when she found her eyes locking with the brilliant green-gold eyes of Tywin. Eyes that seemed so intent upon taking in her form, that Catelyn was almost willed to retreat. Almost. She could feel Tywin's eyes following her as she moved around the room, boring into her skin so deeply that she was certain he knew of her intentions before she had even voiced them.

The truth was that she didn't want to be there. She doubted he expected her to be there; and she hated being there. In all honesty, she wanted nothing more than to retreat to her own chambers; swallowed in the thickness of Ned's cloak as his scent floated around her, allowing her to remember her husband's embrace as if he were still there to give it.

"Truth be told, I'm not quite sure what you're doing here at all," Tywin pointed out. "I didn't think you liked being in my presence but here you are... Having flounced your way into my private chambers to do what? Talk at me whilst I obediently listen?" His eyes narrowed when she went to speak, shifting into slits before her breath caught in the air at the look he sent her. Tywin regarded her carefully. "Do you actually think I care what you have to say?" He pressed curtly.

She gave him a stern look, "We all know how much you care."

"What are you doing here, Catelyn?" He demanded, unable to feign niceties with her after she'd disturbed him of his peace. Usually, he would be more than able to handle it and usually, he would be able to withstand her womanly woes but he felt... Strange, or at least not as he should.

There was a strangely soft, serene look about her face as Catelyn looked at Tywin unblinkingly. "I came to see you."

Before he was able to retain himself, Tywin laughed mirthlessly. "You came to see me?"

"Is that truly hard to believe? Even though we are foes, I put aside our differences in the hope to seek the best interest for someone I love," She informed him, "You know how much I love my family; how much I would do for my family... The lengths I would go."

Tywin glanced at her suspiciously, his eyes narrowed as his brows knitted together.

Catelyn looked at him suspiciously. She had never known Tywin to be concerned about people. Well, he was, but it was a type of concern that didn't bring any warm feelings. He was damn good at his job, excellent really, which was why he'd managed to keep his position secured even after the past election when a democrat had taken office. No matter what way the House and Congress swung, Tywin Lannister stayed the same. He'd only been accused of wrongdoing once, but the accusations had been shot down almost immediately. He was ruthless that way, but that was what the economy needed in the end. It takes a certain kind of calculated coldness to deal with the money of the government; and he had just that.

"So you were unable to inform me prior to your arrival? You decide to take it upon yourself to come to my chambers unannounced and demand things of me?" He paused as he swirled the wine around his glass idly, his eyes still upon her. "I don't know whether you're ridiculously stupid to think so or exceptionally fortunate that I haven't issued your removal yet." However he liked that about her, he liked that she never looked away and that she would challenge him in return, much like her daughter was insistent upon doing.

"I wouldn't call any of this fortunate." Catelyn spat in subtle rage, her eyes growing harsh as they remained trained upon the older man before her. "You've yet to ask me..."

"You're still as feisty as first we met," He spoke, not really answering her and instead, brought a smirk to his lips. "But no, I have not simply because I already know what you wish to ask of me... All you and your kin speak of is taking what you believe belongs to you; your daughter is inclined to prattle on about it often and loudly."

"She does go on about it often, doesn't she?" Catelyn added, a small smile on her face as she did.

Tywin nodded, "Every time I speak with her in fact, I think she believes I have some mental incoherency and that I'm inapt at recalling it despite how often she brings it up... It's rather amusing to say the least."

Gods, it felt strange to smile and actually mean it, and for him to be responsible for it. She'd been forced to smile for such a long time that the muscles in her face were forever strained and sore but the smile she allowed Tywin was easy, relaxed and carefree. "She has a fiery streak in her, one that can't be helped."

Tywin suddenly put a hand on her arm, startling her enough to force her backwards. "I've seen that fire plenty a time, and also in you; it shined brighter than almost anyone I've ever met," He told her softly, his eyes still surveying her cautiously. "And perhaps I care enough to check to see if that fire still exists."

Catelyn sighed, feeling more open and raw than she had in the past three months. Of course people asked her if she was alright. Her secretary shot her wary glances; the people in her office seemed to tiptoe around her; her brother teetered nervously between wanting to keep her company and leaving her to herself; and even the house staff was on edge with her. All she wanted was for people to treat her normally. All she wanted was for people to actually mean it when they asked her if she was okay. Because in all honesty, she wasn't, not in the slightest, but she felt like people didn't really care enough to honestly want to know that.

And it was strange to hear something such as that coming from Tywin Lannister, of all people, at within his own chambers after she'd rudely disturbed him. "Would you believe me if I told you I feel fine?" She asked him.

Tywin snorted, "Absolutely not." He replied without missing a beat.

"Then you have your answer." She bit her lip, clasping her hands behind her back. "However, I wouldn't quite say my fire had gone out... It still flickers, as it has always done."

Tywin set his glass down on his desk behind him as he moved to fold his arms across his chest. "What do you want Catelyn? I've pressing matters I need to handle before- "

Catelyn smiled the old lion, her nimble fingers trailing over the badge upon his right breast. "I came to ensure you'll uphold your vow to my daughter." She reminded and despite herself, the small smile returned to her face again. "I trust you will endeavour to do so won't you?"

"I haven't decided as of yet... Eliana has my attention as does her cause, don't doubt that." Tywin told her. "It always has."

Stepping away from Tywin, Catelyn sighed to herself as she looked up at him with her Tully gaze. She couldn't deny the satisfaction she felt knowing she had Tywin's full attention without having barely done anything at all, it made her feel strong. "Eliana is riding North to claim vengeance over those who have wronged us, and when she's done with them..." She trailed off as she watched the words sink into his mind, observing as he registered what she was telling him, little more than what he'd already deduced himself. "You're next, and if you think she'll show you mercy, then you're sorely mistaken."

Tywin smirked and retrieved his wine, taking a long sip before regarding Catelyn once more. "Have you always been this fierce?" He jested, his smirk growing as her gaze hardened in his direction, which solidified his attention. "I'm listening."

She knows it's not there. There's nothing there, nothing on her hands... Nothing but raw skin over thin bones.

But she feels it, feels the blood stinging hot and wet on her palms and coating her fingers and it won't come off, won't wash away even as she took the cloth into her hands and scrubs, digging viciously into her skin to rub away what's no longer there. She can still see, as vividly as the moment it happened, the futile struggle of her maid, can still hear as her breathing gave away as her body went limp in her arms.

And she can feel it, the remembrance of the sticky wetness of the blood as it drizzled from her chest and she is once again viciously reminded that if she'd perhaps got to a little sooner, had come sooner...

Her breath is heavy through her nose as the look in her eyes just before her heart stopped beating continued to flash through her mind as her slippery, soap covered hands turned to the faucet and she thrusted them beneath the strong flow of water. It was hot and it burned, making her already raw skin prickle and sear but she didn't care because she could still see the blood and the red refused to come off. It wouldn't come off.

Eliana knows it's not there. It's not she knows that. But she took the cloth and bar of soap and she scrubbed because it's still there, it won't go away.

It would never go away.

She scrubbed until she wasn't sure if what she's seeing is her maid's blood or her own as she continued to wear down her skin. The scene kept flying through her mind, the way her head rolled against her shoulder, how her body grew limp and the moment she vowed to avenge her death because she owed her that for not being there to begin with, for not being quick enough.

The blood... So much blood, red and sticky and warm.

It wouldn't fucking come off. It was there, she could see it, even though she knew it wasn't-

I'm sorry.

She tensed at the recollection of her voice, the cloth in one hand and soap in the other were gripped beneath her weary fingers as the voice pierced and mingled through her thoughts.

Her scrubbing didn't slow and her teeth clenched against each other because she swore to herself that she could hear the poor girl's voice. There was still blood on her hands, and she still knows that it's not actually there but it still won't go away.

The blood's not gone and despite the protests coming from her hands she continues to scrub because she's not going to stop until she's free of it, even if she has to scrub away her own hands to stumps, to useless bits of flesh and bone until the blood of an innocent was banished from her memory.

It doesn't hurt... It's not your fault.

But it is... She can see it as she stared down at her hands, the blood is still there... Red and warm... Even thought it's not really, it still stained her hands. She flexed her fingers and gritted her teeth, "I'm so sorry, Eleanor..." Her voice sounded so feeble but it was desperate. But the blood won't fucking go away because it would never go away.

Her grip on the cloth and soap began to loosen, but her head started to shake back and fort in denial. She knew it wasn't there, it's not... And it has never been, she knew. But she's still not washed the blood from her hands. The grasp she had on the cloth and soap grew lax enough for them to fall before her. She stood, slumped and her shoulders weighted in defeat.

Looking over her shoulder, Eliana shuddered at the sight of the girl's limp body upon the floor in the pool of her own blood. Turning, she lowered herself to the ground to collect the girls body into her arms, adjusting her comfortably as she turned to the door, cradling the body of the friend she'd been wrongfully departed with.

"My hands shall be forever stained in blood... No cloth will cleanse them of that."

"You still have time," Eleanor whispered, her breathing shallow as she stared up at her friend with a look of terror in her eyes. "You can still escape, even if I have failed you."

"I'm not leaving you," Eliana replied, setting aside the dagger that had been used, blood trickling from her mouth slowly, but at her abdomen was a gash so deep that the blood almost poured from it. She had tried to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. It wouldn't be long. "You have not failed me, you never failed me. It is I who failed you."

Eliana gently lifted Eleanor's head and set it on her lap. All she could thin about was Eleanor dying all alone, she couldn't let that happen. She couldn't. So she sat there, cradling the girl's head, the fingers of her hand tightly grasping Eleanor's own. She kept insisting that Eliana leave her to die, to flee the city whilst she still had the time to do so. However, when Eliana refused to move, the girl gave up with a sigh and her eyes found Eliana's and she just smiled up at her, defeated.

Eleanor shivered as her breathing grew shallower, the girl noted the hot tears swelling in Eliana's eyes as they soon dripped into her hair. The girls brow wrinkled in worry at Eliana's dismay. She is so brave, Eliana thought to herself. She is the one dying and she's worrying over me.

Her eyes closed slowly as she breathed out softly. Eliana leaned down and pressed her lips against her forehead; it was freezing and that made Eliana even sadder. She pulled away and felt Eleanor's hand grip upon hers grow even more taut than before.

Eleanor's lips moved slightly, and Eliana caught the two words as they hung in the air for a short moment. "Thank you, Lia."

She sat there with Eleanor for what felt like hours. Not moving, refusing to leave her. She didn't even make a sound. Even when Eleanor had gone, she stayed with her.

She owed her that much at least.

Eliana kept her head tucked against her shoulder as she walked along the corridor, ensuring she was safe in her hold as she did. She would do what she should have done long ago. She would present her body before Tommen.

She would make him see, one way or another, Tommen would understand.

She was still in full armour when she entered the throne room, the room itself was quiet and all she could see was the Iron Throne. The last time she had properly seen it without a king sat atop it had been when she'd first arrived in King's Landing, when she has gone to see her father during a meeting of the Small Council, when Robert had still ruled unchallenged and in good health, when she hadn't expected things to move so fast that his youngster bastard son now sat in his place. There was something foreboding about the empty hall, without the courtly hustle and bustle that recalled of Robert's reign... It was dark and cold, like a crypt almost; and after all it was the Iron Throne that had swallowed all who sat atop it.

Eliana had never desired to sit upon the thing that was only a few feet away, within her reach. She understood why Stannis hungered for the thing, and why her brother never did.

Eliana slowly walked through the hall, having passed it countless times, but this time it was different and although she hated being sentimental person, she couldn't deny that her heart did beat faster in her chest as she approached the throne. There were soft steps behind her – Shadow, that had always been her constant shadow, better at protecting her than most.

She knelt before the steps and placed the body down softly upon the first set of steps, folding her hands together before removing her cloak and placing it over Eleanor's body, covering her from prying eyes.

She hesitated before she went up the steps to that black-grey, charred monstrosity. It was for that blasted throne that the realm was being torn to pieces, though she knew better. She hadn't gone to war for a throne, she had gone to war for justice, for order, for law. She never wanted the Iron Throne for it would be a burden... But neither would she have left her own burdens to others. They were hers and hers alone.

It was as ugly as she remembered it, sharp and uninviting, and it looked even more uncomfortable. Eliana stretched out her hand, but she halted before her fingers touched the metal. She wondered if she would cut herself upon it – It was foolish superstition. However, she felt an odd sense of relief when her fingers finally touched the throne and only felt dull edges, no sharp ridges to tear open her skin.

Her frown deepened, and she sat down. The metal was hard and cold and even through the armour she was wearing as it hit the front of the rigid chair that made her sit crookedly, she understood. Aegon the Conqueror had been a smart man, Eliana thought. A king would never sit easy, just as he would never be able to rest his head.

She looked down and saw Shadow sitting by the body, staring up at her, eyes watching her closely. "Why should this belong to only men, when it is women who see more blood?" Eliana questioned herself, brow furrowed deep in thought. "Men fight wars but it is women who win them." Her hands came to rest on the charred, broken blades of the throne. A hard, dangerous seat, but only a foolish boy like Joffrey could ever have thought ruling easy. "How wondrous it would be to sit a throne such as this... With its sharp and treacherous edges. I still don't know why anyone would ever want it."

"Princess."

Glancing upwards, Eliana smiled as the doors to the throne room opened and several echoes of footsteps could be heard. Her eyes zeroed in upon the boy King, and she forced herself up again, ignoring the weariness she felt suddenly through her bones after having faced so much strife. "Come, Your Grace," Eliana said as she walked down the steps. "This is no time for idleness, I would have words, if you'd be so kind."

The Kingsguard had been tearing through Winterfell all morning, looking for the little prince but it was Eliana who found Tommen, tucked into a small alcove in a rarely used corridor. She would have walked right past him if she had not spent her childhood hiding with her brothers; she had grown adept to spotting the smallest disturbance of a tapestry long ago, as well as seeing one of Tommen's boots sticking out.

When she pulled the tapestry aside, Eliana found the little prince hugging his knees tightly to his chest as if he wanted to disappear. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, but Eliana pretended to not notice. "We have been looking everywhere for you, Tommen," Eliana spoke, smiling as she crouched beside him. "Shall we return you to your mother? I believe she's very worried about you."

"No," He said, turning his face away to stare gloomily down at the floor. "I don't want to see my mother."

Eliana frowned, having grown used to Tommen's chatter and general good cheer – she had grown accustomed to his light laughter, to the games he wanted to play or how he wished to venture to the glass gardens whilst babbling on about his day. Sighing, Eliana nodded at the little boy with the gentle heart and didn't hesitate as she climbed into the alcove beside him.

Despite it being a tight squeeze, she managed to secure the tapestry so that she was certain they wouldn't be disturbed. "Please tell me what troubles you, perhaps I could help you? You shouldn't be so sad," Eliana spoke, her worry growing for the boy had been happen since his arrival in the North.

The silence stretched out for a long while that Eliana thought Tommen wouldn't speak, and then she thought of the Kingsguard still searching high and low for the prince and of Cersei who had been screaming at them for losing Tommen when she slipped away, her brother having faced the worst of it.

She was surprised when Tommen finally turned to her, his face wet with fresh tears whilst his eyes blazed with anger. "Mother never lets me do anything!" Tommen let out as she listened to him. "She won't let me joust until we get a new master-at-arms." He said, his face growing red with irritation as Eliana endeavoured to keep her expression blank as she listened to him.

"I watched you in the training yard today," Tommen begun. "I told her I didn't want a master-at-arms. I said I wanted you to teach me after I saw how you bested Joff and your own brothers, but she a prince shouldn't associate himself with Northerners."

Eliana chuckled, having not expected any less of Cersei. "I'm flattered but I understand her concern, Tommen. We Northerners are more violent than those of the South, perhaps it would be more suitable for you to have someone of Southern blood teach you?" She suggested softly, tilting her head at him.

"I begged her to send for Ser Loras to teach me but she insists that he's too busy even though he promised at the last tourney he attended – he's the best jouster in the realm, but she won't listen to me!"

No wonder he's hiding if he spoke his mind to Cersei, Eliana thought.

The prince watched her closely, awaiting her reply and there was much she wanted to say but she had to keep a restrained tongue. "Perhaps if you spoke to your father about this? He loves the sport as much as you, surely he would aid your wishes more than your mother?"

"I suppose so," Tommen said with a shrug, but she knew he still wasn't content with her words. "But he won't send for Ser Loras, he'll choose someone he likes."

Eliana wrinkled her nose as she sighed, "Hmmm... How about I speak to your father about this, eh?" She told him, watching him consider it. "You never know, he might allow me to teach you if my father accepts the office of the Hand."

"Can you speak to him about it?" Tommen immediately brightened, sitting on his knees. "I would love it, I would be able to best Uncle Jaime in single combat!"

Eliana smiled briefly, "I'll be certain to mention it to him tonight." She chuckled softly, "However, I don't know if my skill at teaching will be good enough for you to best your Uncle, but my father had to agree to your father's wishes first."

"I hope he does," Tommen replied with a bright smile. "But I want to stay here longer, at least until Bran wakes up."

Suddenly Eliana's gaze turned sorrowful, "I think he would like that very much." She spoke softly as Tommen reached for her hand. "You are both such good friends." Eliana laughed when the head of her direwolf pup peered through the side of the tapestry. "Oh, you fool."

"A pup."

"A direwolf," Eliana corrected as the ball of fluff crawled into her lap. "A pesky one at that, the little beast."

Tommen smiled, "Does he have a name?"

Eliana shook her head, "He doesn't but I doubt he would answer to it, all he's inclined to do is follow me about all day like my little shadow."

"Why don't you name him Shadow?" He suggested brightly as Eliana laughed and nodded.

"A fine choice."

"I would very much like a pup, not a direwolf." Tommen told her as he stroked its head, his fingers scratching behind its ears. "Just a pup... I asked mother for one."

Eliana nodded, "What did she say?"

"She said she might allow it, but only if I don't bother her about jousting again." He explained as the joy fled from his eyes, and Eliana felt as thought she lost all the progress she made in cheering him up disappear with it.

"Do you know what I think?" She put her arm around Tommen's shoulders to draw him close. "I think we should find you a pup and tell her that it was a gift from your father."

"Do you really think so?" She had never heard Tommen sound so hopeful that it made her grin at him.

"Of course." She agreed with a nod of her head. "Show her how you can provide for it; protect it; love it... Just as you would anything else. Your mother will be sure to notice if you do." Eliana promised him as he watched her intently.

All traces of Tommen's sadness had dispersed as he threw his arms around Eliana's neck, pulling her into a tight hug. "Do you think I will be able to find one right away?"

"Of course,"

"Will you help me?" He asked, his voice muffled by her shoulder. "So you won't feel so sad anymore."

Eliana pulled away, frowning with a soft smile. "But I'm happy, Tommen. Why would I be sad?"

Tommen spoke, seeming far more perceptive than Eliana knew he could be. "Ever since your brother fell... You miss him, I do too."

Eliana's thoughts flew to her brother suddenly, and the loss of smiles they shared and their joyfully conversations with one another. She swallowed heavily as a lump gathered in her throat. "Yes," She said softly. "I miss my brother's spirit very much."

"Me too," Tommen replied with a sad smile. "I miss playing with him." He brightened suddenly. "Maybe we could visit him, would that be all right?"

She looked glanced away briefly, blinking quickly to banish the tears that tried to form at her eyes before she turned to face him once again with dry eyes and a warm smile. "That would be lovely," Eliana gave another smile. "But first I think we should tell someone you're safe; we've been hiding from the others long enough. I think they will be very worried if we stay hidden for much longer."

"All right," He said, sighing unhappily, though he went with Eliana without complaint.

"I had been seeking Margaery out as I've yet to speak with her today, but you're distressed..." Gesturing to the Kingsguard beside him, Tommen edged forward gradually as he took in the sight before him. He felt his heartrate increase at the sight of what appeared to be an outline of a body beneath a cloak that was being guarded by the direwolf he helped name whilst Eliana was descending the steps that led to the throne. "My princess... What is that?" Tommen questioned aloud, his worry evident but she didn't reply, inside she gestured for him to inspect it himself.

With a cautious hand, Tommen shifted towards the cloak, grasping it between his fingers before drawing it backwards to see the soft features of a girl a little younger than himself. "Is that a- a dead body?" He looked up at her after placing the cloak back over her again. "Whose is it... Did you know her?"

Eliana clasped her hands behind her back, as she noted Margaery's lie. Where had she been then if not with Tommen? And why had she lied about it? "Sansa is barely two years her senior... I swore the girl protection, yet I found her dead upon the floor of my chambers." She paused as a frown formed upon her face. "A maid from House Mooten, I wonder what will Lord Mooten have to say when I tell him of his daughter's death?" She questioned promptly.

"My princess- "

Eliana sighed, "They would continue to flock to the rebels would they not?"

"I-I..."

"Look at her," Her voice drifted to reach him but Tommen didn't move from where he stood. Pulling back the cloak, she let a sharp hiss pass her lips. "Let your gaze fall upon her body... Look at her, damn you!" She saw Tommen jolt backwards but still, his eyes didn't stray to the body. Closing her eyes in frustration, she grasped the front of his jerkin, her first twisted through the fabric to pull him towards her before she forced his head down to stare at the body. "I said look at her..."

Clearly shaken by her outburst, he heard the movement of the Kingsguard behind them and stuck out his hand. "Don't... It's fine." He called to them, although he felt anything but fine. Gradually he opened his eyes, his pupils darting about to focus on what lied before him, what he had only briefly glanced at before because he never liked the sight of the dead. It repulsed him... It scared him. But what also scared him was how quickly Eliana had turned on him, how easily she had scared him... She was a friend, and yet he was honestly terrified of her.

"Your mother did this."

He gave a sigh of relief when she let go of him, forcing him to stumble backwards at the sudden jerk. "But why would she kill an innocent?" Tommen pressed, seeing Eliana's brow raise in what he knew was spite, that he should know the reasoning behind it and he should have.

"You know why, you're not stupid." She whispered, bending down to pull the cloak back over her face. "Unless you're blind."

Tommen let out a nervous stutter before replying. "Eliana, I'm unaware of how this came to pass." He tried to explain, genuinely confused at what was occurring. "If my mother had wronged you- "

"I tried to kill her." Her legs straightened as she stood, her eyes trained upon Tommen as she watched him closely, evaluating his expression and movements. "I tried to kill her because she tried to kill me; she had me strung up like some meat... She cut me just because she thought I killed Joffrey. How I wish I killed the shit doesn't mean the same as saying I bloody did, does it?"

"Mother wouldn't- "

Eliana cut him off with a sigh, "Oh but she did. She almost killed me, and I would've died if your betrothed hadn't been there - if Margaery hadn't arrived when she did, I wouldn't be here talking to you now." She saw his faced brighten at the mere mention of the Tyrell that it made her stomach turn, she had bewitched him through seduction and that wasn't right to taint his soul... Tommen was good, Eliana knew that and Margaery would ruin him in the end - if his mother didn't get there first. "I can see we're both very fond of her, it's almost a relief but still."

"I can't believe my mother would do this... That she would harm such a dear friend because of the actions of her brother? I had nothing to do with this, you must believe me - I'm as shocked as you are, appalled even. " Tommen questioned incredulously, disgusting by what he had hear of his mother, the woman he had loved since he was able to remember had harmed an innocent and had tried to kill his friend. "I cannot set aright her wrongs but I can atone them with justice for you and the ones you love."

"I know didn't but that's not really the point... I know of someone who is more than well informed of... This." She trailed off, gesturing to Eleanor's body with a heavy sigh. "Eleanor and I had a very close friendship with one another as she was my maid, so I'd like to think you would be able to imagine my horror at having found her that way in a pool of her own blood, crying to me as she blamed herself. The fault is mine." Eliana moved towards Tommen, her face remaining in a grim line as she did. "A girl yet to reach her fourteenth nameday, an innocent... An act of war."

Tommen frowned, "But who would do such a thing?" He pressed in perplexity as he stroked the direwolf as it followed its owner forward, having missed seeing the beast.

"Oh, there are many I can assure you." Eliana spoke softly, her voice oddly controlled than she thought was possible of her considering how angry she felt, feeling the rage slither through every crevice of her body. "Tell me, Your Grace, if I were to present you with any terms... What would be your response?"

"Whatever you ask of me, Princess, you shall have it." Tommen affirmed with a strong bob of his head.

"We've spoke of this before and quite frankly, I don't believe you. I can ask something of you, and yet it never comes to pass." Folding her arms over her chest, Eliana began to circle around Tommen in scrutiny, her brows furrowing still. "How do I know you're a man of your word? Your brother wanted me dead... Your mother still does, and your grandfather- well, I don't know about him exactly but I want to know if I can place my trust in you Tommen." She cut herself off as she halted. "May I call you Tommen?"

He nodded, "Yes, of course."

"To what?"

Tommn sighed, trying his best to remain calm in the situation if it meant Eliana would be as well. "You may call me Tommen, and you can place your trust in me. I won't hurt you."

"Good." She smiled, knowing his words to be true - Tommen wasn't his mother, and thank the gods he wasn't Joffrey. Tommen was a kind boy, that she had always known. "I want what is mine by right. Your grandfather appears to be too reluctant for my liking to grant me it even if given that extra push."

Nodding once again, Tommen stared at her with a slight frown upon his face. "Well, you may voice your desires to me and I will endeavour to meet them if it is within my power to do so." He vowed, stepping towards her.

Eliana's eyes narrowed, "Oh, it is Your Grace."

"What is it?" Tommen questioned immediately, his interest piqued. "What do you want exactly?"

She bit the inside of her cheek as she held his eyes firmly, "First, I want my mother granted safe passage to Dorne with my son and husband for I do not trust some who lurk within the Capital."

His frown deepened, "Why?"

Eliana gave a shrug of her shoulders. "I don't trust your mother." She wasn't going to lie to the boy, what was the point? It would do her no favours in lying for it was the truth, so why lie? Sighing, she continued with her terms. "To hell with it, I don't trust anyone in this city... I don't trust your uncles, your grandfather, your betrothed... The list is very long."

"But Margaery is kind and she loves you, why wouldn't you be able to trust her?" Tommen pressed, his crown sinking forwards on his head as he stepped forwards. "You have a slight against all those I love... It's no wonder they want you dead."

"They're not trustworthy," Eliana replied shortly, turning her back on him, her hand trailing to her sword. "You love Tyrion?" She glanced over her shoulder to look at him, her lips posed in a smirk as she did. He nodded and sighed, "If that's so then why did you allow him to be thrown back into a cell again after he was proven innocent in the sight of the gods?"

"She deserves justice - someone murdered her son!" Tommen bristled, bearing his teeth as his fists shook, hating the smirk she still wore as she looked to him fully once again, an eyebrow raised. "She needs closure, you must see that. You must understand that." He implored, his voice earnest as he spoke, his finger pointed directly at her.

"But it wasn't her brother who did it."

Crossing his arms, he stared at her with a disapproving glance. "What are you saying?" He enquired, not able to stifle the curiosity he felt rising within him at her words.

"Nothing, nothing at all." She smiled falsely, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before she continued. "But what I was going to say is... I want what rightfully belongs to me: Winterfell. I'm its heir - the eldest surviving member of the Stark family - it belongs to me. Yet I still don't have it, why is that?"

But Tommen tried to speak up nonetheless which she admired him for, "But Roose Bolton- " He was cut off.

"Roose Bolton betrayed and murdered my brother, Your Grace." Eliana replied, her tone suddenly full of rage and agitation that immediately stirred worry within him. "His family doesn't belong in Winterfell; we Starks do. Let us Starks and Baratheons become friends once again." Her tone was harsh and firm as she spoke through gritted teeth, but he visibly relaxed when it lessened to its calm state. "It's something our fathers wanted very much... Why should we deny them of it?"

"My father loved your father like one of his brothers... But Roose Bolton is Warden of the North." Tommen reminded dutifully, his tone full of distress as he voiced the truth.

Eliana nodded in understanding of what he'd told her. "Give me Winterfell and make me Wardeness of the North." She issued her ultimatum as she saw his mind work at possible solutions. "I want my people protected from those that may bring them harm as their kin... The Boltons love them not, they won't protect them like I. You are the King and if you cannot keep your people safe, what good will you do at all?" Eliana grasped his forearm tightly, her fingers curling around his arm and sinking into the flesh there. "How many more innocents have to die?"

None, Tommen told himself, knowing that no one deserved to die for the mistakes of his family as well as Lia's – it wasn't fair, and he would strive to put an end to it whilst being King. "I've not had the chance to speak with my mother as of late... She refused an audience with me each time I try." He knew as soon as he spoke them that they wouldn't sit well with her, he could see it in her eyes, the violent waves crashing against the rocks. "I'll speak with my mother." He promised, not knowing his answer would agitate her further.

Her brows rose as she nodded, "Are you? When?"

Tommen looked down and shrugged, "I- I don't know." He stuttered, looking back up at her.

"You don't know?" She repeated in disappointment at his words, hoping that it would encourage him to change his answer and mould it to help her in anyway she wanted.

"My mother still mourns for my brother."

"Ah, her beloved Joffrey, how could I forget?" That was true; Cersei did still mourn for her dearly departed son but that meant nothing to her... The woman would see her dead, she would see her entire family dead. "Of course she does... And I still mourn for my brother but no one cares about that do they?" She countered as she clenched her jaw tightly. "No one ever cares about that - they forget how much your fucking brother tortured my family; my father beheaded, my sister publicly humiliated... No one cares about them."

Tommen remained silently, understanding her point.

"You're weak; you haven't done anything - what good will you do?" Eliana spoke, her eyes staring in hardened scrutiny at the boy. "You're just a boy, not a King. Whoever expected you fit to rule was clearly deluded if you cannot stop your kingdoms from going to open rebellion with one another. What good are you?"

He suddenly hardened at her words, finding that they mean to hurt, that they meant to sit in his chest which they did. "I am the King. You can't speak to me in such a way, I demand respect and you seek to belittle me." Tommen blurted, his lip quivering as he spoke. "I'm your King, you pledged yourself to me."

Eliana's brow dipped, "Did I?" She ran a hand across her face in thought, frowning deeper. "I don't recall ever swearing an oath or bending the knee and neither did I kiss your hand... I owe you no allegiance." Eliana explained quietly, her voice unwavering in its eeriness as it met his ears, swirling through his mind. "The King I serve is dead, dearly departed from this world. But that doesn't matter, there's only one thing I need." She told him idly, her hand falling from his arm as she continued in her pacing.

Tommen followed her, "What's that?" He spoke aloud, not intentionally wanting to do so but he had been too engrossed in conversation with her to not let his intrigue be stifled no matter how angry he felt. He had to remind her that he was the King.

"Hope."

Tommen raised an eyebrow. "Hope?" He repeated confusedly.

"Hope." Eliana confirmed with a stern nod of her had. "It's the only thing stronger than fear; I learned that a little hope is effective but a lot is dangerous, especially in a world like this." She explained with a small smile as she moved to gather the body of Eleanor back into her arms once more, knowing that she had helped with the leverage to get what she wanted.

Tommen watched her carefully, weighing out his options as thought of how he could benefit from the situation of agreeing to her terms. "I'll grant you those terms if you do one thing for me in return." He told her as she moved to walk at her side, his hand clasped tightly behind his back.

Looking to her side, Eliana tilted her head in question as they neared the door. "Which is?"

"Teach me." Tommen requested softly, his words making her frown once again, although Tommen knew exactly what he meant. If she thought him weak, he would demand it of her to make him strong... In every way possible.

She let out a soft chuckle despite the circumstances. "What exactly? How to use a sword? How to rule? I would like specifics, Tommen." She replied in what he thought was a patronising tone, but he couldn't be too sure and so settled to just answering her question.

"Teach me how to be strong."