Chapter Text
Her room looked the same as it always had. Plush golden cushions, dark carved furniture, fine burgundy drapes framed the wide window that caught the last of the sunlight and made the room glow like amber.
Nothing had changed in her quarters except her. Lyra heaved a sigh, dropping her cloak onto the backs of one of the chairs and drifted to the window.
Below, she saw the carriage that had brought her here being pushed back under the awning of the stables. The horses were already fed and bedded down. She could see their content swishing tails from the stalls and hoped she’d find rest as quickly as they had when she retired tonight.
‘Sister.’ Her eldest brother hovered in the doorway, watching her with concern. He cleared his throat. ‘I hope you settle in. I know this must be... difficult.’
Lyra frowned. ‘It would have been worse if I stayed at Highgarden. I’d have been no better than a once favoured whore there.’
Coryn winced and Lyra smirked. Ever since he’d taken over the lordship of Golden grove, he’d become rather serious. But he’d always been prone to treating her like a girl, more so than her other two brothers, especially Kalyn.
‘I wish you wouldn’t speak like that,’ Coryn sighed. He moved into the room and stood beside her.
‘Worse than that, I think,’ she continued, ignoring him. ‘Even whores fall pregnant.’
‘Lyra, that is enough,’ he snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘I will not hear you speak of yourself that way.’
She bristled at his scolding but refrained from causing more of an argument. ‘Forgive me, I am tired from my journey, and these last few months have been difficult, as you say.’
Coryn softened, sliding an arm around her shoulders. ‘Wynnie will be glad of your company, and I’m sure my son would like to get to know his aunt better.’
She leaned into his warmth. ‘I shall teach him all my bad habits.’
‘You and Kalyn will have to take turns,’ he muttered dryly.
‘Where is Kalyn? And Emric, I expected them to greet me.’
‘Due back this evening. They are ensuring our grain made it to King’s Landing unharmed.’
‘So that is why it’s so quiet around here...’ She had wondered why she had heard her brother’s loud voices echoing around the walls the moment she stepped over the threshold.
‘Yes, Wynnifred is rather enjoying the peace,’ he chuckled.
‘How is your dear wife, brother? Still smitten with her?’
Coryn’s cheeks coloured. ‘Aye, we are fond of one another,’ he mumbled.
Lyra laughed. ‘You blush like a maiden.’
‘Oh, stop, will you? I forgot how rotten you could be.’
‘Aye, terribly rotten. Marriage did not sweeten me.’
Coryn’s face turned serious again. ‘I do hope that your marriage at least had some sweetness in it.’
There was a needle-like pain in her heart. Lannys’ laugh echoed in her mind, and the memory of his wide smile. He used to smile like that each time he kissed her. ‘Yes, there was some...’
Footsteps approached from the hallway and Lyra could hear the faint laughter of a child. Wynnifred appeared soon after, bouncing her smiling son on her hip.
Coryn grinned and went doe-eyed when he saw her. She mirrored his joy. ‘I’m sorry, sister, I was not here to help you settle in. This little one was a little upset at being woken.’
‘Please do not worry yourself. I know my way around this old castle,’ Lyra replied.
Wynnifred was just as radiant as Lyra remembered. Golden-haired, pale- skinned, all milk and honey softness. She was one of Damon Lannister’s many nieces, had come with a substantial dowry and had made her serious older brother trip all over himself to court her. It was a very rare thing these days to see her brother act like a fool. For that alone, Lyra liked her.
Coryn held his son so the two women could embrace properly. ‘I am glad your journey went smoothly, and you are here at last,’ Wynnifred said, squeezing Lyra.
‘It is good to be home,’ Lyra said truthfully.
Highgarden had stopped feeling welcoming the moment her husband had died. Lannys’ older brother, Leo, Lord of Highgarden, viewed her only as a problem to be solved once his brother was in the ground. If she’d stayed, she was sure he’d have found some lesser lord to wed her to; instead, she proposed she return to her family. Thankfully, he’d agreed, seeming relieved not to have the hassle of dealing with her moping about his halls.
Lyra stepped back from Wynnifred’s arms. ‘Now, then. I have not properly met my nephew yet.’ She turned to the boy in Coryn’s arms, a little over one year old and regarding her shyly now. He had Coryn’s colouring, a crop of dark auburn hair beginning to grow, and his long, straight nose, but his eyes were all his mother’s doing. So bright they shone like sapphires.
‘Marcus, this is your aunt Lyra,’ Coryn introduced. The boy hid his face in his father’s neck.
‘Oh, come now. You’re not normally one to be shy,’ Wynnifred cooed.
Lyra reached out her arms, and Coryn passed little Marcus to her. ‘Come, let us get acquainted. I have heard you are fond of blackberries. Shall we see if we can hunt some down in the kitchens?’
The boy’s eyes lit up, and he nodded. ‘Excellent, they are one of my favourites too,’ Lyra said.
She left her room, walking down the familiar hallways and staircases, twisting down into the heat of the kitchens.
‘Will you be alright to keep an eye on him for a little while, Lyra,’ Coryn’s voice sounded behind her.
She turned to see Coryn looking longingly at his wife.
‘Yes, brother, go have your fun,’ Lyra winked and saw her brother blush again. ‘We shall be fine, shan’t we, Marcus? We shall find blackberries, and something sharp and terribly dangerous for you to play with.’
Lyra smirked as she walked away, Marcus now babbling in her ear. Before she turned off the hallway, she heard Coryn’s voice carry. ‘She is joking, Wynnie, I swear.’
XXXX
The Tower of the Hand always felt stuffy this late in the afternoon. Cloying heat rose from the city below, and there was little breeze today to shift it. Maekar took a long draught of ale and shucked off his surcoat. Baelor wasn’t long doing the same.
Rolls and rolls of parchment lay before them, most of them inventories from shipments brought in the last few weeks. They’d been at this for hours now, going through each ledger, making note of which tithe came from which house. It was beyond tedious.
‘I cannot look at anymore of this,’ Maekar grunted, shoving the nearest scroll away from him. His eyes stung, and his arse ached from sitting so long.
‘Perhaps we should take a break.’ Baelor put down his quill, leaning back to stretch out his stiff spine. Wine was brought to them, and a small repast to keep them fuelled till dinner.
An easy quiet fell between them. They stood side by side, watching from the window at the world below.
‘Have you thought any more about what father has asked of you?’ Baelor’s voice was quiet, hesitant even. He cast an inquiring look towards him, and was met with a scowl.
‘No, I fucking haven’t,’ Maekar replied briskly.
‘It might be best if you did, lest they choose for you.’
‘I do not want another wife. I had one, a good one...’
Baelor laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. ‘I know, brother. I know.’
‘Why aren’t they hounding you to marry?’ Maekar grumbled. ‘You have been widowed as long as I.’
‘They are,’ Baelor confessed. ‘But they have given me some grace, to wait till I am king to choose a queen.’
Maekar rolled his eyes. ‘Mother always did give you grace...’
Baelor sighed. ‘Let us not fight over this. We will both have to yield to their wishes, in time. It is our duty to the crown, and the crown needs strong alliances. Marriage is the easiest way.’
Easy. There was nothing easy about it, Maekar thought bitterly. His grip tightened on his wine cup. Thoughts of Dyanna flashed through his mind. Her smile. Her laugh. He did not want them replaced by a woman not worthy to hold a candle to her.
‘The Royce’s have a daughter,’ Baelor suggested. ‘I have been told she is pretty.’
Maekar scoffed. ‘Barely more than a girl. I won’t marry a child barely weaned from her mother.’
Baelor had moved to the desk and was shuffling through the papers there, marking each house crest he saw at the top of each ledger.
‘House Baratheon, perhaps? Lord Lyonel has cousins...’
‘Absolutely not,’ Maekar snapped. ‘Too fucking loud.’
‘You would not be wedded to Lyonel himself,’ Baelor teased.
The papers shuffled again. ‘House Blackwood? Or maybe House Rowan...They have been generous in their tithes of late. Lord Coryn has grown his wealth. He would be a good ally to have if any more rebellions reared their head,’ Baelor mused. ‘I am sure he has a sister.’
‘I don’t want to talk about this,’ Maekar hissed, pacing around the small room.
Baelor straightened. ‘I only wish to help you, brother. I would prefer to see you happy, but I won’t push this any further.’
Maekar gulped down his wine and refilled it quickly. ‘Why don’t I believe you.’
Baelor chuckled. ‘Not today, at least.’
He slumped into a chair with groan, already feeling a headache coming on. ‘I have enough to worry about without a wife under my feet.’
‘A wife is supposed to help ease those worries, brother,’ Bealor quipped, sitting down opposite.
Maekar threw him a glare. Baelor only chuckled again. ‘I’m glad you find this so amusing.’
‘How else am I supposed to find it when you sulk like mother has scolded you?’ Baelor said. ‘Take some time to think it over. It’s best you choose someone before Mother gets properly involved.’
XXXX
His chambers were thankfully quiet. He’d had to endure the last hour sat next to his father and mother and they had begun to needle him about arranging at betrothal.
He sat, staring into the fire, several cups deep when he heard the faint patter of feet across the stone floor.
‘Pa?’
Rhae stood in her sleep clothes, blanket twisted in her fingers, looking at him with large eyes.
‘What are you doing up still?’
She looked at the ground. ‘I can’t sleep,’ she said shyly.
Maekar sighed. ‘Did Daella tell you ghost stories again?’
‘No!’ she protested too quickly.
‘Not convincing,’ he muttered, but lifted her onto his lap.
She settled there quickly, laying her head against him and pulling her blanket around her like a nest. He cradled her as she fell drowsy.
He’d held like this when she was born, watching in fear as the masters tried to stop Dyanna’s bleeding. Maekar shut his eyes to block out those memories, focusing instead on the little breaths of his daughter, warm and alive in his arms.
Daughters had softened him in ways he hadn’t expected. Perhaps because they both reminded him of his wife. Dealla had her mother’s mind, too clever for her own good. Rhae had her smile, her sweetness, her curiosity for life.
He watched her eyelids twitch.
He didn’t like the thought of some stranger mothering her, likely reluctantly too. Still, there were times when a women touch might be useful; his duties kept him too busy and Septas were only so useful.
Seven hells. He was too tired to think about this any longer. He stood, lifting Rhae with him and gently laid her on his bed, resigning himself to sharing it with her; she only wake at some point and come back.
Rhae stirred, rolling closer to him, but didn’t wake. Perhaps in the morning he would enquire as to his options but first he intended to find his brother and drag him to the training rings. It had been too long since the sparred and Maekar was in desperate need of a distraction .