Chapter Text
Jaime gives her one of those grins and Lyanna just knows this is going to be one of those days. "You're hopeless," she tells him nonetheless, taking out the lighter from her purse. "You could just buy one." This she whispers under her breath, because despite the obvious annoyance she'd feeling at the moment, it isn't enough to put an end to this.
"But it's so much better when you give me a light." He takes a long drag of his cigarette and hands her back the lighter. "Anything exciting in your life lately?"
Some would say that what they have is not friendship. Because it's not. Friendship. It's rather like they are brother and sister. And why shouldn't they? Lyanna sighs and drags her fingers through slightly tangled hair. Serves her right for forgetting to bring something to pin it up with. "Besides Jon getting a fever, no. It's that sore throat, I swear, it just won't pass."
"You could try the doctor's," Jaime lets her know, taking a sip of his coffee. "These days, I've heard they can cure most anything. Sore throats included."
"I have Nan. We're good." Her refusal is met with the same shake of the head as it always produces. Lannister already knows she won't give in and Lyanna likes annoying him with the fact. After all, it's just a sore throat. She doesn't need to go to the doctor's for just that. She doesn't even have the time to be perfectly frank. "Have you been to see her this week?" she asks after eager to change the subject.
Jaime levels her a empty stare, as if his brain were trying to connect the dots. And then he grimaces. "Been," he answers shortly, sobering considerably. "Nothing's changed. Nothing ever changes." The cigarette is halfway through by now. "Even father has stopped going."
Which is not all that peculiar. From what Lyanna remembers of Tywin, and it's not been long enough for her to forget, the man is a stoic cube of ice, despite the fact that he does indeed care for his family. She can only wonder at this sudden development. "Maybe he just did not have the time," she offers, in hopes of placating the man.
But he is not so easily led. "If Tywin Lannister cannot make the time, then who will?" This particular would she does not feel like touching. Lyanna shrugs. It's not really any of her business. What Lyarra and Tywin had is long in the past. "Maybe you could come with me next week."
Startled, Lyanna hurries to shake her head. "I couldn't. It would only agitate her. Didn't your sister use to say she was allergic to uncool?" As if Cersei herself is some sort of star shining bright. Lyanna leans back in her seat, fingers grabbing onto her keys. She should make it out of here before it all goes awry. Unfortunately for her, nothing is ever as easy as that.
"Come on, Cersei never meant it," Jaime laughs good-naturedly, as always blind to some of the lesser refined traits of his sister. "She was just mad at out parents and you fell in a bad spot." Meaning that Lyanna was simply the one Cersei could and did take her anger out on. Not that Lyanna despises her for it. She used to. But she's learned a bit since then. They are no longer those children.
"Whether she meant it or not is really not the issue," she assures Jaime. Lyanna finds that she doesn't really know what argument to give for her refusal. "I'm just very busy."
At that, her companion raises one perfectly arched eyebrow. "And yet you're here with me.
Damn. She's can't deny that. Struggling for words, the woman falters ever so slightly. "We don't do this every other day, Jaime. I barely get to see you." As if that will explain why she won't go with him.
"Excuses," he calls her out mercilessly. "Look, the offer still stands. If you change your mind, give me a call and I'll pick you up. I really think she would appreciate your being there."
She isn't going to. But Lyanna nods nonetheless. "I'll do that."
It seems that this particular interview is at an end. Lyanna looks at her watch. "My break's over. I should return to the office." Rummaging through her purse, she pulls out a bill and places it on the table. "My treat." It's her way of apologising.
Jaime accepts that with a shrug. "Do you want me to drive you back?" It's heart-warming that he remembers her car is still in service.
"If you can spare the time." Which he obviously can, because this is Jaime Lannister. He grins at her and holds his hand out.
They walk together to the car, the sleek vehicle awaiting their arrival. Lyanna climbs in the passenger's seat and waits patiently throughout the drive. There is music on the radio, some sad song that clashes horribly with the mood. But she has to admit the deep voice of the lead singer really touches a cord.
In the end Jaime drops her off in front of the building and she gets out with a polite thank you. She's still not going with him to see Cersei though. Siblings, siblings, but Lyanna's not risking her skin just to make Cersei smile. She's not even sure she wants to see Cersei smile. That right there is nightmare fuel.
There are no goodbyes. There usually aren't with them. Lyanna walks away, well aware that she's five minutes behind schedule and she might get a headache for it from the boss. But who know, the man might be in a good mood.
As soon as she enters, Reed runs up to her, his thin face red. "Stark, you're finally back. What the hell took you?"
"Is boss man pissed?" she asks, now slightly worried.
"Crazy. He's been looking for you." The man takes her purse as she shrugs off her coat. "You won't believe who's here."
There is one thing and one thing only that she wouldn't believe. And it has nothing to do with clients. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if some dead king ended up on her couch. But that is neither here nor there. Lyanna has seen cases upon cases of things most people would think impossible.
"Please don't tell me it's some other idiot who wants to sue their parents for not recognising their crazy identity change." Her head is already protesting. It's her job to win cases, sure, but that doesn't mean she does agree. But money is money and as long as it pays the bills, she's good. "I'm not reading through my biology again."
Reed laughs. "I remember that one. But no, you can keep that biology book closed. Although, you might wish you'd opened that when you see what's waiting for you." He hands back her purse.
Slinging it over her shoulder, Lyanna gives him a long look. "Stop trying to frighten me. Jaime just proposed that I drive down with him to see his sister. My heart just can't take it." The man chuckles. "Laugh now, but I might bring her here one day and then we'll see who's laughing."
"Don't," Howland deadpans. "I'll see you after your meeting."
Taking her leave of the man, Lyanna takes the stairs to the second floor, wondering who indeed has come to see her. But her mind is not there. If this meeting runs long she'll have to ask Howland to pick Jon up again and bring him by. Or Nan could. But she's not been well these past two weeks. Maybe it would be best to ask Howland to do it.
For a brief she considers sending out a message to her son, but then thinks better on it. Jon will only be distracted. The last time she let him know beforehand that he'd be coming to work with her he ended up drinking too much soda and it made him sick. That is simply not a mistake Lyanna plans to repeat. Although it is a fond memory because they also got to spend some quality time together.
Shaking such thoughts away, the woman becomes aware that she is very near her destination. Already she can hear voice, in particular that of her boss, trying to stall. Taking a deep breath, she places a hand on the knob and turns it.
The door opens with a small sound, admitting her in to a sight that does not only turn out to be unexpected, but entirely unwelcome at this very point. "Stark, where have you been?" The sense of déjà vu is lost on her because Lyanna's gaze is stuck on the second man in the room. Farman, however, is not about to let her live the shock. "Stark!"
"Lunch break," she finally offers with half-a-mouth. "I apologise for the tardiness." Walking around Farman she approached her desk, placing her purse on the flat surface. "So, Robert, what brings you here?" Turning around, Lyanna nods towards the man whom she had identified by name.
She never really thought she'd see him again. And in such circumstances too. Farman looks between the two of them but after a moment he excuses himself, leaving Lyanna with her potential client. Leaning against the desk, the woman tried her best to maintain a mask of indifference to his presence.
"That's cold, Lya. Even for you." Robert Baratheon says, sitting down. He still looks the same.
"Robb, don't start. If you're here to waste my time–" the warning is quickly cut off, however, when Robert presents her with a file.
"No. I'm here for entirely different reasons." It is just now that she notices a small scar on his cheek.
Lyanna takes the file and opens it. She reads through the first page at high speed. Her eyes widen in wonder. This cannot be true. It must be some joke. She continued to leaf through the voluminous file in complete shock. If it is a joke, then it's the most tasteless one she'd ever witnessed.
"What the hell have you landed yourself in?" the woman asks after a few moments of silence broken only by the shuffling of paper. She closes the file and slams it on her desk. "She's accusing you of rape," Lyanna points out unflinchingly. And there it is, the ugly truth. "Your own cousin."
"I didn't rape her," Robert hurries to reply. She notices that he never denies having had intercourse with the woman though. Disbelief colours her features. But he's not done. "We had an argument and I lost my temper. It got out of hand, I admit it. But I did not rape her."
"How out of hand?" Lyanna demands, her hackles rising already. She knows all about Robert's temper. When he declines to reply, she repeats her question, each word coming out tersely. "You have to tell me," she feels compelled to clarify when he still offer nothing.
Robert flashes her an angry look. Nonetheless, he manages to unclench his teeth enough to produce words. "I pushed her, alright!" The begrudgingly offered information is something Lyanna can only sigh at. This is one of those cases, she thinks. "Look, Ned said you would help. But if you won't, just tell me now."
"No, I'll help. For Ned." And because in spite of his temper, Robert is not abusive. Not in that sense. "I'll need some time to study this," she points to the file he's brought along. "It might take a few days."
"I have all the time in the world," he chuckles bitterly, holding one hand up, palm facing her. It drops down to his knee a moment later. "It's not like I have anything waiting for me." At her puzzlement, he clarifies. "I lost the team."
But of course he would. Lyanna gives a slight sympathetic nod. "You have a place to stay, don't you?"
"I rented one." He stands to his feet. "Lya–" But she's already shaking her head.
"Let's just focus on this, Robb," she tells him. Maybe she'll have to go down and see Cersei after all. The gods must be laughing themselves silly just about now. And Lyanna finds that she really does miss that biology book.
The shrill ringing brings her to a halt. Lyanna mutters a curse, hand stuck in her purse, pushing away at its contents in search of her phone. She is so late. But really, she can only blame herself for it. When she finally catches the device, she lifts it out and slides her finger over the screen. The ear bud swiftly delivers the gruff voice of her father.
"I've called you six times," the man starts, without as much as a greeting.
"I didn't even see that. I am so sorry," her apology is lost in the loud honking of a car. The vehicle stops abruptly, its hood nearly crashing into Lyanna. "What the Seven hells?" she yells out at the driver.
"Lady, the fucking light is red!" the man yells back at her. Which she hadn't seen, of course, as she is in a hurry. Lyanna ignores him, scurrying across the length of the street.
"Father, can I call you later? I'm really in a right hurry now." If she keeps this up, they'll be taking her measurements for the coffin. This is the third car this week that's nearly crashed into her and it's only Tuesday. "I promise I'll call before eight."
"Fine, but don't forget. Like you did last time." As if he'd let her live it down. Lyanna nods her head, for a second forgetting he can't see her. "I'll talk to you later then."
"Bye, dad. I'm hanging up," she says. "Talk to you later."
How that that's over and she has finally reached the other end without needing to see the hospital, Lyanna can breath easy. She wonders if Jon is mad. If he is, she decides, she'll buy him something nice as compensation. Still, Lyanna cannot explain how she forgot to call Reed. She could have sworn she sent a message at least.
Robert's file had been so engrossing though. It's not as if she meant to forget about picking Jon up. Next time, she'll stamp it on her forehead and not repeat this mistake. She'll make it up to her son the woman assures herself. They have managed through similar situations before. Somewhat calmed by the notion, Lyanna can already make out the gates of the school. Relief floods her. Almost there. Just a little more and she'll have reached her destination. Damn that car of hers for breaking down when she most needs it.
The closer she gets the more apparent a figure becomes. A small boy is leaning against the main gate, a backpack at his feet. That is Jon. Recognition is instant. Seeing him like that, Lyanna picks up her face until she's caught somewhere between walking and running, the awkward pace accomplishing almost nothing. The heels won't allow for more though.
Jon sees her too, because he picks up his backpack and stands up straight. The look on his face, however, does not mirror hers. The sullen boy walks towards her almost as if he's dragging his feet.
Soon enough she'd standing before him, holding her arms spread open. "Jon, I'm sorry I'm late," Lyanna says, waiting for him to come to her.
He stands just out of her reach, making no move to enter her embrace. "Can we go home now?" Jon asks, eyes so much like her own glinting with chilling coldness. "I'm tired and hungry."
At this response the mother's face falls. "Jon, I already said I was sorry." He resists any attempt of hers however, and persists in his current mood even as she forcefully takes his hand. "Give me your backpack," she continues. "I'm sure you've carried it around long enough."
"It's fine," her son refuses with that same flat tone that always drives her to the brink of sanity.
"Jon, please, let's just have a nice evening, okay? Mother is really sorry for being late. But it won't happen again." This is really the best she can do. Her little boy cannot understand the burden it is to raise a child on one's own and keep the house afloat.
With surprising strength, Jon yanked his hand from her grip. "You always say that!" he cries out, features morphing in rage. "It's never true. This is always the same. You're never there." His outburst is matched with an appropriate kick of the leg as the child stares angrily up at her.
The reaction wakes in her a similar fury. She takes hold on the child's shoulder and violently pulls him to her. "Don't you use that voice with me, young man. I am your mother, not some dog on the street you can yell at." She can feel his whole frame shuddering.
And quite unexpectedly, she feels sorry. Sorry that she's yelling, that she was late and that they just can't seem to get along these days. Her eyes fill with tears and before she knows it, she's hugging a struggling boy to her chest, not entirely sure if she should be. Ever so slowly, Jon gives up his flailing, becoming still in her hold.
"I try. I do try," Lyanna speaks softly. Gently letting go, the mother pulls back, one hand rising to wipe away at the tears. Gods, she isn't a child to be bursting in tears in the middle of the street. A flare of annoyance sweeps through her. This is nothing short of embarrassing. She has to calm down.
To her great astonishment, Jon does not pull away. In fact, the child's arms wrap around her middle, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry mother," he speaks, voice muffled by her coat. "I didn't mean to make you cry." She feels him press his whole body weight into her.
With the speedy reaction of any mother in such a situation, Lyanna embraces him back, glad to have the loving son before her. "We could get something to eat from that place you like. Does that sound good?" At hearing that, Jon gazes up at her, hope shining in her eyes. "And maybe get some cake too?"
"Cake? Really?" The boy grins. "Can I have more than one slice this time?" He lets go and grabs hold of her hand.
Lyanna laughs. "Two, but no more." She's almost afraid of what this means. A couple of cake slices if a couple too many. "Let's be off then."