Lannister [S. Clegane]

》chapter V《

{Book 1} 

》chapter 5《

The next morning, I took myself form my bed and actually went to the Hall to join my siblings for breakfast. I was feeling a bit sore still, but I wanted to get back on my feet as soon as possible. I absolutely loathed being bedridden, has since childhood.

I didn't like missing things. when I was young my father always made sure that I was more than well before getting out of bed after being sick. My mother had gotten sick after Tyrion was born and when she got pregnant with me my father hoped that she was strong enough to give birth to another.

She wasn't.

She died while trying to get me out. She didn't make it the whole way, so they had to cut me out. Tyrion was always blamed for my mother's death by, mainly, my father and sister. She did get sick after him, but she died giving birth to me.

He never said it but I knew father was scared that I would get sick like my mother. That the sickness would have been given to me while I was in her belly. That reminds me of the letter I got that morning from him.

In the hall, my sister was scowling at Tyrion who was making funny faces at her children. "The children don't need to hear your filth," she sneered. She looked up as I walked up to the table. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

"Well, I am now," I said as I sat down next to her.

"Come," she said to her children before turning to my own child in my arms and stroke her thumb on Dyanna's cheek. She gave Tyrion one last ugly look before walking out.

Jaime turned towards our brother. "Even if the boy lives, he'll still be a cripple, a grotesque. Give me a good clean death any day." He said.

"Are you talking of the Stark boy?" I asked. "He'll live?"

"Yes, the maester said so." Tyrion said before answering Jaime. "Speaking for the grotesques, I'd have to disagree. Death is so final, whereas life... ah, life is full of possibilities."

"I hope the boy does wake," Tyrion continued. "I'd be very interested to hear what he has to say."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What would he have to say?"

"Yes, dear brother, what would he have to say?" Jaime asked and when he didn't get an answer he said. "There are times you make me wonder whose side you're on."

That did not help my confusion.

"My dear brother, you wound me," Tyrion stated. "You know how much I love my family."

"Are you two practicing for some sort of tragedy?" I asked.

Jaime handed me the letter then to get my focus away from the recent conversation. "From father," he said before leaving me and Tyrion.

In the letter, my father described his happiness for me and asked how I was feeling. If anything felt out of place. Of course it didn't, and I had to make that very clear when I wrote him back.

"What'd he say?" Tyrion asked between chews.

"Congratulating my recent step into motherhood and asked a few more times than necessary if I was feeling alright."

"We both know why he's worried," Tyrion muttered.

"I'm sorry."

Tyrion sighed and smiled at me. "No, forgive me. It's not your fault."

"How is it that you are the one blamed for our mother's death, I was the one she died giving birth to?" I busted out.

"Because it's easier to blame the- what did Jaime call it, right- the grotesque," Tyrion said.

"It's stupid," I muttered, then sighed. Than I remembered the boy that Clegane had yelled at the night Dyanne was to arrive. He looked so terrified that I felt slightly bad for him. "I have to give the bastard boy my gratitude before we leave."

I stood from my chair and walked out to the courtyard where I saw the boy by the smith. Jaime was just walking away from him and I stepped up just as the boy turned around. He jumped slightly.

"Hello," I greeted.

"Hello," he said unsurely, his gaze purposely avoiding my own.

"Sorry to frighten you," I apologized, "I just had to thank you for the help the other night."

"I didn't do much, my Lady." He said.

"Perhaps not, but I'm thankful either way, and this is the outcome," I said looking down on Dyanne in my arms. "My little Dyanne."

He had two swords around his waist, I noticed, one smaller and one more his size. He was getting ready for departure. "Are you joining us south?" I asked.

"No, my lady," he said. "I'm taking the back."

"Oh," who in their right mind would take the black by own choice? I may not be a man but i can imagine how much it would take to, by own choice, never touch a woman again. And not to nantion the cold now that winter was on our door step and all the stories I've heard of the creatures north of the wall. "Well, I wish you luck on the wall then. You'll be joining your uncle, I presume?"

"Yes, my Lady." He was dying to get away, I could tell.

I smiled. "I'll let you go now,"

He nodded and walked towards the entrance.

"Wait!" I yelled. He turned around. "What is your name?"

He frowned and met my eyes for the first time. "Jon, my Lady."

"Well, good luck on the Wall then, Jon Snow." 

To be continued~