THE LONG WINTER - Sandor Clegane.

ch. ten - baelor.

made it out alive,                                 but i think i lost it.
said that i was fine, said it from my coffin.
remember how i died? when you started walking.

For what felt like weeks, Lyarra was not allowed to leave her chambers to do more than wander through the gardens. Sansa, to the best of her knowledge, was being kept from her — a fact that came as no surprise. They were the only Starks left free in King's Landing, it was only logical to keep them from one another.

Aianna was more often than not at her side, every minute of the day. The two ate together, after Lyarra's insistent pleading — they walked together, drank together. Aianna's presence in her life was becoming so familiar that for a moment, the cavity within her didn't feel so wide. The two were wandering through the gardens, when a regal voice called out behind them.

"Lady Lyarra," The voice chimed, a wave of tension flooding through the area at once. Lyarra spun in a flash, brushing her gown in an attempt to collect herself.

"Your grace," Lyarra started, taking in the fear that came with Cersei Lannister's presence. Cersei seemed to rise at the term, sweeping elegantly through the area to come to her side. In this light, she could almost see Jaime's face staring back at her. Identical was an understatement. However, Lyarra had never seen such malice in his eyes — as she saw in the queen regent's at that moment. All the while, Cersei's smile never once slipped from her face.

"My apologies for disturbing you," Cersei amended, though her tone held no true remorse. Lyarra watched as her gaze caught on Aianna, questioning — as if she didn't understand why the girl was still there. Aianna nodded at once, grasping the bottom of her dress in hand as she stepped out. "I was wondering if you might spare me a moment of your time."

Lyarra knew full well that she had no choice in the matter regardless, but she nodded all the same. Cersei stepped lightly to her side, taking a seat on a bench facing the water. The two were silent for only a beat, before she took note of the queen's imploring stare.

"You have a lovely family. Sansa, the little dove — she's perfect. And your sister-by-law? Lady Stark," Cersei paused, snapping her fingers to summon one of her handmaidens — who all but sprinted to her side, carrying a goblet and a pitcher of wine. The queen regent took one swig, before barring her teeth at Lyarra once more. "She's beautiful. Quite a kind woman, wouldn't you say? I'd hate to bring her more sorrow, in these troubling times."

"Aye, your grace. As would I," Her response only seemed to further amuse Cersei, who leaned forward in her seat — all but pushing herself into Lyarra's space.

"Then tell your brother to confess. Joffrey will name him a traitor to the realm, and have him sent to the wall. Don't let him be a fool."

"If only it were that easy," Lyarra breathed, straightening herself at once — when Cersei's eyes narrowed.

"And why wouldn't it be?"

"Forgive me, your grace. I meant nothing by it. I thank you for your mercy," She nodded, voice shaking as she bent her head low. For a moment, Cersei didn't move — seemingly taking in her anxious state. With a tut, she swept her gown to the side — standing in one quick motion. Just before she made it out of the gardens, she paused — turning back to Lyarra contemplatively.

"Oh, I almost forgot. A word of advice? It appears you've made a friend in Lord Baelish," She started, and at once Lyarra paused. "He's a fickle man, and easy enough to break — but a powerful ally. Don't let him go to waste."