On the other side of the door, Sam was doing his best to stand his ground before the ferocity in human flesh that was Brienne. She wasn't hearing a word he had to say.
"I am not a babysitter." She purred ferociously. "I am a knight and my duty is in King's Landing!"
"Yes, I understand that, truly I do but Jon has made his orders clear. He wants you here, standing guard until his next set of instructions are issued." His words were stammered and stuttered nervously as he gazed up at her. She was irate. The pull in her brow only further exaggerating her growing rage. Her lips thinned and stretched, trying to hold her tongue behind her teeth. She knew this had nothing to do with Sam and he was simply a messenger but she needed an outlet for her fury.
"What use am I here, guarding-"
Her sentence was interrupted with a loud and urgent banging, the door they'd left through was rattling against its hinges. The handle clanging with each pounding of his joined fists on the other side of the hard wood. His muffled yells could be heard but they were indecipherable, causing the pair to re-enter as fast as possible. Brienne wasn't risking the possibility of a set-up and burst in with her hand on the hilt of her blade at the ready but they were confronted with the sight of Cersei holding herself gingerly against the edge of the table. Immediately the pair understood what could be happening. Brienne's initial reaction was that of pure guilt, her face relaxing almost instantly at the sight whereas Sam was straight away feeling for her. Gilly was so close to birthing his own child, he couldn't imagine a pain more terrible than this.
Alas, they knew nothing for certain yet.
Quicker than either of the twins could comprehend they were separated and taken in opposite directions. Brienne - very reluctantly - had to escort Jaime to their chambers and understandably, she was furious. They were prisoners, not guests. Why in the gods names were they being put up in a lavishly decorated part of the castle? Remaining with an extremely silent and wary Cersei, Sam had ushered her into the adjoining room to examine her to the best of his ability. He hadn't had much experience at all with pregnant women, aside from Gilly and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't apprehensive, especially given who the pregnant woman in question was. It was warm and cosy within the four walls, a fire burning to the side whilst Cersei perched herself delicately on the edge of the single bed that sat in the centre of the main wall, trying to asses the amount of blood she was losing for herself. Underfoot there was a large, dark brown fur only adding to the warmth of the space. It smelled like old books and medicine, not at all horrendous but still a strangely unnerving mixture of scents. Knowledge and healing. The instant Sam had cut the rope holding her wrists together before leading her into the small room, she'd pulled her hands to her chest. Holding them close to herself trying to soothe away the soreness as she gently rubbed them. The bindings had almost become embedded in her skin, caked with mud and dirt from earlier this morning.
"Are you in any pain at all?" He queried, an anxious wobble to his voice as he finally re-approached her with a tray of instruments in one hand and a bowl of warm water in the other. He didn't really need to ask, he could tell by the way she was holding herself that she was experiencing some amount of discomfort. Hunched as though she couldn't sit up straight, her fingers still delicately smoothing over the angered flesh on her forearms. He silently noted that there were all manner of marks and bruises on her. The more noticeable ones on her neck and he could just make out the ones on her wrists too. He could tell they weren't from today. She left a long pause after he asked her the question before she slowly nodded, avoiding his gaze. "And the bleed, do you think it's stopped? Or does it feel as though it's still going?" Her eyes followed him nervously as he piled his equipment down and grabbed a cloth to go with the bowl. The moment he turned to face her she could feel herself recoiling mentally. Physically she remained still, she hadn't flinched in the presence of Jon Snow, nor the boy Jaime nearly killed. She wouldn't cringe before this man either. Her gaze continued to follow his hands as he set the bowl and cloth on a tray and placed it on the bed beside her.
"I can't tell." She tried so hard to sound strong but she failed to understand the immense sensitivity and empathy the rounded man before her possessed. The moment he'd set eyes on her, he was feeling every pain and emotion she was experiencing. He could tell she was frightened and shielding her current pain well.
"I'll need to clean you up before I can properly assess the situation." The soft tone of his voice was easing her with each passing second, he had that same soothing quality as Qyburn had held. Nevertheless, she wouldn't let her guard down. "The water is warmed, it shouldn't cause too much of a shock." He smiled still standing in front of her sweetly. Dipping the cloth into the water, he squeezed it out gently before moving to wipe her wrists first. The moment his warm fingers made contact with the skin on her hand she retracted quickly with an involuntary gasp, her body automatically trying to move away from him, almost instinctually. If it wasn't Jaime's touch, it was a threat. Her mind was conditioned to think this way now. "It's alright." He pulled away slowly, his hands help up as he cooed softly. "I don't have to do it, if you don't want?" He stuttered sweetly, offering her the cloth. "You can wipe them clean yourself, your legs too." Nodding encouragingly, he watched her hesitate before cautiously taking the sodden fabric from him. She was furious at herself for letting him see that weakness, she'd had no control over her bodily responses and it was making her feel so small. As she began cleansing her wounds, she wondered why he was being so sweet with her. He obviously knew who she was and what she'd done. Perhaps he was just one of those people who could force themselves to see the good in anyone? He must have had to try extremely hard to see the good in her, she thought to herself coldly. Tyrion had said it himself years ago, the love she had for her children was her one redeeming quality, aside from her cheekbones.
As she moved the cloth to her inner thighs, she couldn't push away the overwhelming feelings that started tearing at her thoughts. If she lost these delicate lives growing within her, there was no point anymore. Her only drive was keeping them safe. They'd lost everything. Attempting to push herself on towards a way of life she didn't want was hard enough but with two dead babes? She'd rather be dead herself. She'd had a strange feeling she was carrying twins as soon as the Red Keep had fallen, that night she had the strangest of dreams as they'd sheltered beneath the tree. Two girls, their hair fair and golden in the sun, their eyes as green as hers. In the dream she'd been watching them as they played but as quickly as the vision had appeared it vanished into a dark hole before she could even note their surroundings. This same dream had visited her almost every night, her sleep suffering at its hands and every night the dream would go no further. Trying to rid it from her mind, she focussed on the blood staining her skin, the more she wiped at it the more it smeared over her pale, porcelain skin.
Uncharacteristically, Jaime had been silent as they walked until they finally reached their room. He entered first with Brienne behind, her hand remaining on the hilt of her blade for the entirety of the short walk. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jaime turned to face her. His hands still bound and his face more fury-tainted than she'd ever witnessed it.
"If anything happens, to either of them-" He stopped himself from completing the threat. Referring to Cersei and their babe, he was completely unaware she was carrying twins. Those words alone held enough power to make Brienne understand the extent of his rage. He hadn't fought tooth and claw, dragging Cersei and their unborn child through all seven hells just to lose them both as a result of a scorned woman's cowardly actions. He glanced down, an angered tear clinging to his lower eyelid. Her palm remained wrapped around the hilt of her sword, ready to cut him down but he knew she wouldn't.
"Step back." The two words she uttered were supposed to be firm but Jaime could clearly see the weakness behind them.
"Come on, I'm your match." He growled, stepping closer despite being tied still. "You don't want to fight someone who could stand a chance? Or is knocking pregnant women to the ground is more your style now?" He raised his brow, the sarcasm in his words only further angering the towering woman before him. "What? You thought you'd just kill the babe before it's even birthed? You're that jealous-" He didn't even get his sentence completed before she head-butted him square in the bridge of the nose, an almighty crack of bone on bone sounding through the warm and comfortable room. He staggered back immediately trying to get his footing after the shock, laughing as blood ran down his face from the cut across his nose and his nostrils as well. It travelled down his skin, breaching his muddied beard and dried lips. The colour of his life's blood on his teeth made them flash even brighter, the droplets departing his hairy jaw and spattering on his chest and down to the flooring beneath their feet. "Yes!" He nodded, an exasperated whisper escaping him. "That's it! Get angry, Brienne." He growled, still laughing and staggering. "Come on, do it again! Use your fists, pack some power into it!" His laugh was slowly turning into a furious grimace, his lower teeth showing the way a lion's lips curl back when angered. "Do it! Take it out on me!" She couldn't lie, she was a little unnerved. She wanted to take his offer and hit him but she couldn't fathom what he was doing or if it was a trick. "Come on!" He bellowed once more, watching her jaw tense.
"I won't tell you again, step back." She repeated the words just as coolly as she had the first time, her mind refocusing itself on Jon and her oath. Now she thought she saw what he was doing, luring her into combat. Riling her up and pushing all the right buttons to make her lose it and beat the living daylights out of an unarmed, bound and injured man. She wouldn't do it. The disappointment was clear in his bloodied face as he shook his head defeatedly, breathless and bleeding quite profusely. Unbeknownst to her, he was yearning to feel the sharp pain of being hit, he needed it. He was so angry at everything that had happened to Cersei on his watch. He was supposed be protecting her. He wanted to feel the wrath of himself, he would have beat a man lifeless with his bare fists to save Cersei from the trauma she'd seen by the river that night. But it was his fault. He couldn't beat himself, so he'd get her to do it for him.
"You think I'm weak for going back to her. For leaving you in the North that night." He assessed without warrant. "But Cersei is all I've ever had, and now I'm all she's got." He panted, spraying blood with each exhale. "So go ahead, sneer." He shrugged. "Think what you will and say what you want but what you won't do is lay a finger on her again."
"I don't think anything." She snarled, stepping towards him. "You want a hateful life with a hateful woman, be my guest. Just know that all of this will be for nothing. She will be the death of you, no matter how far you both try to run." She gritted her teeth. "You think she's just going to resign herself to a simple life? No power and no riches? Is that truly enough to keep her happy?" Each question was punching him in the stomach because he knew it was all true. He was fighting an uphill battle and he was aware of this. But he had to try. For the sake of their child. "She'll do what she does best, she'll poison your babe the way she's poisoned you and the three of you will be dead before the infant's first name day." She seemed to be fighting back tears now, realising she had truly lost him. There was no coming back, he'd made his choice and quite clearly he was standing by the path he'd chosen.
"Me and her are all that matters." He spoke at almost a whisper. "If we're going to die, we'll go together and that's all I've ever wanted. Nobody else in this world means anything to me, you're all just existing in the background. Small and unimportant." His words were honest and provoking in nature but far too painful for her to deal with right now.
"You could have been something, you know that? But you've thrown your whole life away. Such a waste." She spat with utter discomposure, her nostrils flaring as she studied his face. Still refusing to give in to his prompts to fight. He muttered no more words, instead he just watched her turn and leave. The door locking behind her before she stood across the entrance, he feet apart and her shoulders widened at the ready.
She hoped to the Gods that Jon's instructions would reach Horn Hill soon and she could escape this house of horror.
Under the examining eyes of Sam, Cersei was struggling to allow him to do what he needed to do. She'd undressed, as he'd averted his gaze, and wrapped a thin robe around herself to allow him easier access. But his small request for her to lay back on the bed was not flying. She didn't appreciate being in such a vulnerable position and Sam was by no means a forceful man, so she remained sat on the edge of the bed and kept her wits about her, refusing an examination. She was half expecting Jon Snow to march in and call the orders for their execution. She felt as though she'd never relax again. Sam shared the same look of relief as her when both noted that the bleeding seemed to have stopped, or there was at least no fresh blood since she'd wiped herself clean.
"The cramping has subsided?" His eyes twinkled with concern, awaiting her response but all he got was a feeble nod. For the most part, the pain had gone away. "Could I at least listen to the heartbeat?" He urged gently, treading his steps as cautiously as he could. He treated her the same way he'd treated Gilly when they'd first met beyond the wall. Trying his hardest to put her at ease in his presence, it was clear she'd faced some savagery in the last week or so and he didn't wish to add to those stresses. In his hand he had a stethoscope at the ready. He watched her eyes move over it before meeting his gaze briefly, offering him a small nod, however the moment their skin came into contact again she recoiled without warning. Each time his skin had brushed hers, however gentle it was, she was assaulted with the violent memories of the Dothraki rider pinning her down and claiming her like some sort of flesh-trophy. It made her skin crawl and her chest burn with a fiery rage. He stepped away immediately at the sound of her frustrated sigh, his respect for her slowly winning him a spot in the small pocket of people she trusted, where only Jaime sat. Aside from him, nobody else had that position. Qyburn had been there prior to Sam but sadly he'd left her.
Instead of pushing the matter, Sam simply repeated his actions. Holding the medical instrument out, he let her take it unsurely before holding the earpieces and putting them in, instructing her to place the flat of the instrument against the skin of her swollen belly. He could hear nothing at first, just a hollowness as all other sound was drowned out. Narrowing his focus as best he could, he motioned for her to move the piece across her midsection. Her eyes were burning into him desperately, silently begging for him to hear something, anything. She felt her breathing slow, almost coming to a complete stop as he pulled the tool from his ears. He took so long to speak, she feared she'd pass out from lack of air supply.
"Would you like to have a listen?" He finally smiled, his shiny cheeks forcing his eyes to grow smaller with the movement. The pure relief in her eyes was a welcome sight for him, his ability to put aside the wrongdoings of others in the name of what's important was an attribute he prided himself on. Never a quality he'd had to work on, he was just born a sweet and caring soul, nobody could take that from him. Not even his father.
"What?" Her response barely escaped as a breath, in total shock that he'd obviously found her babe's beating heart. She was so sure she'd lost them, true to her forsaken prophecy.
"Here, hold these to your ears and you'll be able to hear." His pudgy little hand reached out to her warmly. "Both babes sound strong." The latter of his sentence was spoken through a wide smile, the marvel of human life affecting him deeply. Children were the future, they were what were really important. Not who their parents were, how they came to be or what their parents had done before them. In the end, none of that mattered. What the children chose to do with their lives is the only thing of any importance now. As soon as those words left his lips she felt overcome with emotion, this time she managed to conceal it, taking the ear pieces from him before listening for herself.
And there they were. Two fluttering beats, they were faint to her but he'd said they were strong and why should he lie? She smiled momentarily at the comforting sound of her cubs but reality made its way back into her brain, greying the happy thoughts before they could even take full flight.
"And the bleed?" She asked without eye contact as she looked down at herself and pulled the instrument away, giving it back to him. Pulling the robe across herself protectively she quickly covered her bruised thighs from his studious gaze, causing him to shift uncomfortably. The harsh markings were still dark and unsightly on the insides of her legs, the large Dothraki hands had left their taint almost everywhere on her. Especially her mind.
"I'd say it was from a hard knock or a fall perhaps? Can you recall if you might have tripped in the last couple of days?" He watched her nod, no words accompanying the silent response. "I don't know for certain without examining. There could have been a placental bleed, you should get plenty of rest and keep movement to a minimum for the next few days. I'll check in on you morning and night, just to be safe."
"How long are we going to be here?" Her small question still lacked eye contact as she fidgeted with her wounded wrists. They needed dressing if she was to keep touching them the way she was. It seemed almost like a nervous habit, something he was all too familiar with. His choice of distraction was biting his lips, sometimes so much that they'd bleed.
"I'm not entirely sure, I'm afraid-"
"Are you?" She interrupted gently, finally allowing her eyes to meet his and he could finally see her beauty. The woman he'd heard about on so many occasions. Growing up, he was always told that Robert Baratheon's Queen had been the most beautiful woman in Westeros. He could see how that could be true, even now with her long golden locks missing, a dirty face and a tired complexion. She held a certain beauty that nobody could compete with. He looked confused by her sharp question, inviting her to elaborate. "Afraid?"
"Well, no I don't suppose I am right now." He actually pondered her question, thinking about all the possible answers before he glanced down at her. She looked extremely distracted, as though her brain had far too many worries to think about all at once. His brow twitched with concern before he pulled the stool behind himself closer to where she was perched and sat down opposite her. Straight away giving her height, a less compromising position for her. Perhaps if she felt less threatened she would relax a little and let him help her before he had to move on to her brother's wounds. "I'm not a brave man." He smiled sheepishly, now avoiding her gaze as he looked down at his rounded stomach. "I never have been, I've always preferred comfort and books over battles and sword fights. My father hated it." His sweet smile disappeared, his stare distant as he recalled all the awful things his father had ever said about him. "He hated me actually. I was his biggest disappointment in life. I'm not a Jon Snow or a Jaime Lannister." He connected his own dealings in life to hers, trying to establish some form of connection. "I'd spent my whole life being afraid and cowering before he sent me to the wall." He blinked, the warmth returning to his endearing features. "But I found my strength out there, with my brothers." His mind wandered back to her initial question, he had a habit of going off topic quite frequently. "What is it that you're afraid of?"
"Everything." She forced a smile, but her eyes didn't convey the same expression her mouth was giving, their pupils connected for only a second before she looked down again. "Do you believe in prophecies?"
"Prophecies?" He repeated, not entirely certain he knew where this was headed.
"When I was nine years old, a witch in the woods told me what my future would hold, the details I could never share otherwise they were destined to come true." Her voice was so delicate it was soothing, her tone and the way she uttered each word was like a spell, every sentence packed with more emotion than he could humanly decipher. "Almost everything she told me that day has come true and if it's to remain that way, these babes will never take their first breaths." Her eyes welled slowly, but her face didn't move. As though she was numb to the fact that she'd never birth her unborn children, frozen in fear but unable to let it properly take hold. Sam was so captivated by the story, he felt himself holding his breath in anticipation for what came next. "But I've seen them." She whispered through the threatening tears, her focus fixed on her injured wrists as she rubbed at them anxiously. "Every night, in my dreams I see them. So clear that it could almost be a memory."
"You dreamt you were carrying twins?" He inserted his question cautiously, not wishing to spook her.
"Laugh if you will." She smiled, shaking her head and forcing the tears to loosen from her lower lids, cascading down her dirty cheeks. "I know it sounds impossible-"
"No." He swiftly interjected. "Not at all, once upon a time I would have said so but since I've been beyond the wall, I've seen some incredible things." He bit at his bottom lip just thinking about it all. "Giants, wights, magic." He looked positively in awe of his own memories. "Jon died once, you know?" The moment he said those words her eyes looked up at his, asking him wordlessly to expand. "The Red Woman brought him back to life, I saw him dead with my own eyes. Stabbed more times than I care to say, but he's here with us today. Alive." He locked his stare on to her bump. "If a man can cheat death and return to life, I think a prophecy can be broken. Don't you?" He'd wanted for his comments to put her at rest but she offered him a weak smile that didn't confirm this.
"I've been afraid my entire life." She echoed his own previous words. "Running from her predictions, trying to fight them off as best I can but how long can somebody run from their own destiny? She's always there, in my nightmares, in the back of my mind. Taunting me." Her confessions were deep and dark, causing Sam to frown. There was so much more to this golden lioness than anyone else could ever see.
"These dreams you have, perhaps they're your own prophecy. You dreamt you were carrying two babes and that was true, what if you've bypassed one of her predictions and you're on a different line now?" His lovely suggestion only angered her, not that she'd bare her teeth at this caring figure. He reminded her so much of Tommen in a strange way, he was so gentle and considerate. She imagined he would have made a loving and devoted husband had he lived, he wasn't as fearless or as strong as Joffrey had been but he had qualities Joff could never have possessed. He had a heart, strong and pure. Ironically, that had been his downfall. Sam went silent following her lack of answer, she looked exhausted. "I can give you essence of nightshade if the dreams are bothering you, it might help you to get the rest you need." He looked to his side at the bandaging materials. "I think we best dress those wounds to avoid infection." He moved towards her with the clean, white cloth.
To his surprise she held her wrists out warily, finally allowing him to touch her.
