Oh wow, i'm really happy to see at least some feedback! Honestly so great, thank you for reading. As for the review about the consistency of updates I would just like to say I am honoured to spoil you, if that's what it is. I don't really have a set plan for when I get updates out since I just write what comes to me but I do have deadlines or no-later-than dates to keep my ass focused. But realistically speaking, I can't promise I can always get updates out so fast. I started publishing this when I started my first summer block which meant a load of two classes, and now i'm on my break for a few more days before starting again, so up until the end of August I would think that the updates will come no more than a week apart but during the fall i'll be taking on SIX classes so updates may be more far apart.
Besides that, I shall repeat once more that i'm happy where this seems to be headed. There were some things I had planned to fit into the last chapter but with the wedding taking place I decided it would be too much and am instead bunching them up in this chapter. The feedback and views are what inspired me to start, but everything just took on a life of its own once I had begun, enjoy!

Addam

He did not want to pity her, though upon meeting her at first and the few days directly after that was the first thing he could feel. Margot was quiet and reserved, but it was in no way her own doing. For all accounts, she was pretty. Moreso than he could have expected. But he could not help but imagine how much prettier she would be if she could truly be happy.

Somehow, he felt offended at how fearful she had initially been around him. His rage bubbled through and he had to stop himself from yelling how can you fear me? What could I have possibly done to warrant such fear out of you? For he could never hurt a woman in that way.

His sisters and their happiness was all he had known of how to live with women. That you should treat them with the affection you may not usually let the rest of the world see in you. You should keep them happy merely because their very presence makes you happy. But Addam could not imagine what lengths Jon Manning must have gone through to leave his younger sister in such a state. How he loathed the man. Always wearing a look of haughty annoyance like he could somehow do better. Always impatient. And Addam did not know if it was just his paranoia but it seemed the better Margot was getting and the closer she was to Addam the farther her brother went out of his way to bring on little acts of humiliation. Even if it was not in retaliation to Margot's path to happiness, it made him sick. And it made him want to banish him from his home, from what would be Margot's home.

He had still not reached that point with her, if they had reached anywhere at all. She was willing, and that was a start. He had done things he would usually never do just to make her feel included. For that was the most important. Unlike ladies he had charmed with the intention of bedding or otherwise, he knew his approach would have to be different. Not only would she not respond and would think him unchilvalrous or probably would just burn red, he had to build the stepping stones correctly.

Janyne, Elaine and Lorraine had been especially invested in his efforts to get to know Margot. Like good court spies they had reported back on her every word or move in their presence. And despite the unnecessary espionage he had felt grateful at their efforts, for now he knew more about Margot than he could find out for himself. It was not merely a matter of how willing Margot may be in speaking to him, but also the fact that Addam had never been good at asking the right questions.

Now, he knew Margot played the harp. Which is something he should have guessed, she had the sad look of a harpist. She enjoyed golden berries that she sometimes received from King's Landing. Her favourite shade of purple is indigo. Also, she had told Elaine that she wished she could learn how to paint, for she had never been afforded with any paints back at Stillwater Keep. And this is what led Addam to where he was now, guiding Margot into the solar with a hand over her eye lids and the other gently pressing against her back. Elaine's generosity had not stopped at providing information about Margot's wishes but continued on with her offering to give her spare easel with a new canvas and the many paints she's not using for her paint series to Margot.

She had shuddered at his touch, and Addam did his best to ignore his frustration that she would still fear him. But he knew it was unbased, for he was still new ot her. And for all she knew, all men could end up being her brother. Nevertheless he persisted and lead her to the room himself all the while soothing her concerns with his assurance. He moved the hand behind her back to hold her own hand and help her steady herself as she stepped over the threshhold. Her palms are sweaty, he noticed, I wonder why. Does she fear me, or could she like me?

"Are we there?" She asked as if it was improper of her. He answered her question by removing his hand from her eyes.

He had to look down slightly to catch a glimpse of her face, which only looked on in admiration at the upright easel, followed by confusion as to why she was the one presented with it.

"I thought perhaps you would like to paint." She looked at him then, hope filling her eyes,

"This is for me?" Incredelous at her question he could not help but laugh,

"Why of course, why else would I have led you here? Elaine told me you had wished to start painting, so I thought this might please you."

"Oh it does! My Lord." He had never heard her voice raised as such. He smiled, it made him happy. He had done something right. And more importantly, he had chipped off another chunk of the wall surrounding her.

Motioning for her to take a seat by the easel she nodded her head repeatedly in subordination to his request. She sat down with her back awkwardly straight, as she had nothing to rest it against and Addam could see her fingers tingling with anticipation to touch one of the many brushes presented before her. She would still wait for his permission even when he had told her it was hers. He had had almost enough of this.

He bent down slightly so he met her sitting form and took her hand in his -without asking, and was surprised to find her looking back at him steadily, they way he wished she would.

"My Lady, this is yours. Ashemark will be yours. I wish for you to know that...you don't have to be afraid. You don't have to ask or await permission." He almost wished he hadn't said anything, for she looked away in embarassment.

"I'm sorry if this displeases you, my Lord-"

"Addam."

"Addam. It's just I was always taught to wait for instruction. This is all still very new to me. You and your sisters, your whole family, have been so good to me. I'm sorry if I have not been as welcoming as you have been with me."

"You need not apologise, Margot. You will be one of us now, you're safe here." And in a slightly hushed tone he added, "I won't let him hurt you any more." Margot's head whizzed around parallel to his with her face shocked at his last statement. She tried to open her mouth to say something but the words died in her mouth, and her eyes were filling up not with wetness but with a kind of desperate gratitude Addam had never before witnessed. Looking down once more at their interlocked hands sitting in her lap, a bridge of cream in a pool of deep scarlet, she said in barely more than a whisper,

"Do you promise?" And Addam reached over, daring to cup her cheek, hoping she would let him,

"I swear it, Margot."

Jaime

Here they were once more, in the same library they had both tried to figure one another out before. This time he was not so stiff, and not so afraid. He had taken certain liberties since his new engagement to Lorraine. Now that his intentions were clear he did not feel like he was hiding anything, and his usual raunchy remarks and jests deemed improper were more acceptable in his eyes now that there was nothing to fear. Lorraine seemed to enjoy it as well, for she liked that he thought she could take it in good form. She always laughed, and Jaime was tired of denying that he liked to hear her laugh.

It was one of the only times he would get to hear her voice. He wondered, how often would he get to hear her voice once they had married? Elaine had volunteered to speak for Lorraine during the wedding vows, so that was out of the question. Would he gain more laughs and stolen giggles from her? Would he hear her screams standing outside the birthing chamber? He had not yet given himself much time to think of how she would sound in the throes of passion. How his name would sound coming from her as she moaned out in ecstasy and how she would pierce him with her dark eyes looking through her hooded lids. No, he did not want to think of that whilst he was still stood with his shoulder resting against a bookshelf as his intended furiously searched for the volume she "could have sworn was just here".

She reminded him of Tyrion when she was like that, though it pained him to think it. So he took solace in the fact that she stood to remind him of a number of people. She made him think of the Dornish Princess he had not saved as well, which was no better than thinking of his lost brother.

"Is it possible, my lady, that you could find another volume that might interest you?" She did not bother to look at him or acknowledge his question as she continued to sift through the heavy books. Oh that will be grand, the silent treatment. She reached up higher to the highest shelf then. Her fingertips barely grazed the books and she finally shuffled through them like a mad blind woman trying to feel her way to the right volume.

Having had enough of seeing her unnecessarily strain herself for a book Jaime moved so he was standing behind her and reached his hands up to grab a large number of the volumes Lorraine had been struggling to reach and brought them down on the floor. He came back up to face her with a proud smirk, ready to gloat until he registered just how close they were standing now. He had her back up against the shelves, and after looking down at the books she looked back up at Jaime with a blank look on her face.

They had stood close together before, but they had been dancing then. And even then, the thoughts that had whirled through as she so innocently lay her head on his chest were thoughts so unchivalrous he could scarcely bring himself to look at her father after. He would of course, never apologise for having them, for he enjoyed them immensely. They served to remind him he was still Jaime.

Again, with those dresses. Her chest heaved up and down, and he could tell her breath had surely hastened at their proximity. Is she afraid, or does she like this? He had to decide soon what he'd choose to believe, for he could not just stand there.

He had almost resigned himself to believing Lorraine would be happy with a marriage of friendship after she had accepted his proposal. And in truth, Jaime would not have minded that all that much. She was in general good to have around. But parts of him he was not too fond of facing craved the touch of a woman. And Lorraine, regardless of her wit and the warmth she brought to him, was by all means a woman. A beautiful one at that. He hated having to think of her as just a woman, for she would never mean only that to him. But he feared that if he could not separate those two things for now, he would only grow far more infatuated with her in a way that his pride would usually not allow. Interesting to note, though, is that over the course of their so far very short engagement Jaime had found that Lorraine was not exactly receptive to his advances but had showed some sort of a desire of her own for their closeness. The kiss she had planted on his cheek after his proposal still burned when he lay awake at night, and her skin would linger against his for far longer than he had thought she would allow. Something about Lorraine did not follow propriety to the letter, something about Lorraine gave her the freedom to do things on her own terms.

And it was this thing that pushed Jaime to move his hand up to meet her jaw. In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten that it was his right hand he had raised, and he made to replace it with his left before he felt Lorraine grasp on his golden hand and kept the cool metal in place against her face. His eyes widened in surprise, but her gaze did not waver from his until his own had softened. They stood wordlessly pressed against one another and she closed her eyes for a moment to take in their closeness. With her hand still on his golden one and eyes still closed, she moved her face to the side and placed a soft kiss on it, the moisture from her lips leaving a mark on his hand. It was as if she was saying, "You should not hide from me, this is a part of you now. And I accept it just as I accept you". Even though it was the one part of him he could not feel, he felt her lips all over him then, and his gaze burned through her as he tried to silence the passion that was building inside of him with each passing moment stood against her like this. For being here in the dimly lit room against her ample breast, heaving, alive, Jaime felt the vigour of youth nearly overtake him. It's too soon, he kept reminding himself.

Still looking at her with a hint of surprise at her willingness to be close to him, he removed his hand from her cheek and moved it down to her shoulder, stepping back in the process and relieving some of the tension that had stood between them. He looked back down at the forgotten books and suddenly thanked the Gods for the volumes to work as a distraction. He forced an easy smile without looking at Lorraine and said,

"I do hope you find what you're looking for my lady." She did not do anything to return his remark. Instead, she pushed herself back so she was now leaning fully against the bookshelf. Nevertheless, Jaime could see that she held a question in her eyes.

"Is something the matter?" She stood straight again, and Jaime in turn stiffened his posture and looked on intently as she wrote something down with the notepad the had left on one of the shelves near her,

"Will we marry here or at Casterly Rock?"

Jaime, in truth, had not thought about that. He had been too wrapped up in wondering whether or not she would accept him in the first place and too consumed in the process of getting closer to think of their actual nuptials. This, in fact, would be the first time they had ever even discussed their actual marriage between themselves.

"I have no preference. But I imagine you would want it to be here. Would it not be more convenient?" She nodded, and started again,

"When will we leave to go to Casterly Rock?" Her eyes remained on him with a sense of alarm washing over them. He leaned in closer, he did not know why, and kissed her forehead as he had seen many do to keep her at ease. She looked up at him still awaiting an answer,

"We shall leave whenever you deem fit, my lady." He was standing close to her once more, even after promising himself he would not. Her dark eyes an abyss, her lips a pleading call. His good hand played with the hair at the back of her head, and he gave himself room to consider what he would gain from this.

A halt to his thoughts came as the door to the library burst open suddenly and Jaime had torn himself apart from Lorraine before he could even look to see who had entered. Straightening out his doublet as if it would somehow melt away the sexual tension left hanging in the air he looked at who had caused such a rude introduction to find Lewys, his squire, panting with a scroll in his hand.

Lewys's hair had never looked so ugly to Jaime before that moment.

"My Lord, I beg your pardon."

"And just what is it Lewys that is so important?" He all but roared at him.

"News from King's Landing, my Lord."

"What of it?" He did not want to think of King's Landing and all that lived in it.

"It's important, my Lord." He handed him the scroll with his hands still shaking.

Duncan

He still had yet to believe the sudden news, or what it would mean for him. The King's Regent, Jaime Lannister's uncle, had died. Circumstances regarding his death were still unclear, but with his death Duncan was not sure who would be able to regain control of the Kingdom once more. The boy King certainly can't.

He supposed he would still be a squire to Lord Tarly, even if Ser Kevan was the one to arrange it his death does not mean it should fall through. He would leave for King's Landing the day after Addam's wedding. Who knows when i'll be back.

He had been close to the library where he had seen Lord Jaime's squire run in frantically, and had waited outside to find the Lord walking out of the library with a disturbed look on his face. His sister followed far behind him, stopping at the door of the library to wordlessly watch him go. His squire had relayed the news to them and they subsequently left the Lord alone for the afternoon before thinking to approach him to offer condolences.

He had heard that his father had crossed paths with Lord Jaime though and had offered to delay Addam's wedding celebrations in respect but apparently Jaime had declined and said there was no need. Which Duncan was glad for, if not to hasten his leaving then to at least be rid of Margot's brother. They had never all discussed it but he sensed that all his siblings felt the same way about Jon Manning.

He was still a long way from knowing who he would be. Addam was their heir to Ashemark, so what would that make Duncan? Perhaps he would chase knighthood and its glory the way Addam had, but thinking of it Duncan did not find too deep of a satisfaction in that. It would be glorious, of course. But forever?

He could only think of himself now, even with Lorraine sat next to him, her foot jutting up and down in nervousness and worry etched in her brow. Strange, for he did not think the new Lord meant just that much to her yet. He had seen the way they were together, and the way they danced, just as everyone had. But seeing his sister's worry over the man that would be her husband finally brought Duncan to the realisation that perhaps Lorraine cared far more than she let on. For Lorraine felt everything far more than she let on. Except maybe her anger.

He spied Jaime Lannister's golden head bob far away through the under ground maze, they had been steadily keeping track of him for the better part of an hour. He did not know what Lorraine was waiting for exactly, if anything. Suddenly the head stopped, and disappeared from view, which could only mean that Jaime Lannister had finally tired of his pacing and decided to take a seat. He turned his head to his sister, knowing what she was thinking,

"Now's as good a time as any." Giving him a faint smile, she kissed his cheek before removing herself from the bench they had been sitting on.

Duncan watched her head, as dark as his, disappear as well down the staircase, hoping selfishly once again that this bad news would not dampen the remainder of his time here.

Lorraine

Something did not feel right. Granted, the news we had received was horrific, but something still seemed off about it. There was a stench of foul play around it, which did not seem very just. I had met Ser Kevan once, albeit shortly. It should be noted that I have not met a great deal many people, but I can say that Ser Kevan may have truly been one of the finest men I had come across. He knew duty, and he seemed smart, and reasonable. I could not imagine anyone wishing him great harm.

Still, this was not a matter for me. This was a matter of Jaime's uncle, and it would be about him. Should I expect to find him in tears? Should I expect ti find him wanting his space to grieve? He did not really strike me as the grieving sort.

I found Jaime in the same oasis he had proposed to me in. He was sat on the bench with his elbows resting on his knees and his face had remained rather blank, the same way it had been when he left the library. I made my way to him, not bearing to look in his eyes just yet, and sat next to him awkwardly extending my arm around his shoulder for comfort.

I was surprised to find him shirking away from me slightly, and even more surprised that I had felt offended by that. He moved to face me however, and made up for his rejecting gesture by placing his hand over mine.

Smiling thinly back to me, I wondered why he thought he had to be so strong. Why did he think I was undeserving of seeing him vulnerable when he had all but asked that of me over his time here? Why had he repeatedly wished for me to become closer to him when he would only push me away when the time had come for him to trust me?

I felt the sting of anger wash over me quickly before I could replace it with sympathy for the man before me. For he kept losing the people that were his own. His nephew and the King, his brother, his father, his sister surely and now his uncle. What right did I have to sit here and judge his treatment of me when he surely could not know how to act in a time such as this.

Before I could give in to myself and somehow show him another gesture of my being there for him he suddenly stood, once again pacing back and forth whilst moving his hand to scratch at the back of his head.

"I have to go back." Back? Go?

"Where?"

"King's Landing. I must return." Anger began to bubble in me once again, what did he mean? What did this mean? He had only just proposed to me. We had only just been in the library only a hair width apart from one another. And now he wished to simply go? Does that mean he is forsaking me? I shook my head at him furiously.

"You can't" His eyes widened at my response, as if he was expecting me to sit passively and allow him to just leave without another word. And it seems that Jaime Lannister did not like being questioned or told what to do.

"I can and I will. I shall leave with Duncan after Addam's wedding." He growled the words at me like he would regret raising his voice. I wish he had, for his hiss made me angry. I shot up out of the bench, scribbled into my notepad and handed him the paper before walking out into the maze.

"If you wish to leave me then go."

Suddenly a hand grabbed my arm and I tried to ignore its pull and carry on walking but it was too strong. He pulled me back to him and he stood in front of me. Angry, hurt and incredulous at what I had just said.

"I do not wish to leave you, Lorraine. But I must investigate my uncle's death." I felt a tear threatening to spill itself down my cheek. I could not stop thinking, you can't leave. You simply can't.

As if reading my thoughts he added,

"I will return to you, I promise." I finally let myself go and fell to his chest, only a single tear staining his doublet. I held him close to my person, the way I wished he would stay.

What scared me is how aptly I had expected him to put his trust in me when I had little trust in him yet. It had not immediately occurred to me that he was leaving with the intent of returning. Long ago I had associated "leaving to King's Landing" with a journey that had no imminent return. I had immediately assumed that the little joy I found in another man was leaving me because I was not worth staying for. How stupid had I been? His uncle had died, and I was worried that he did not think me precious enough to stay for?

"I promise." He repeated over and over again, stroking my hair until my shivers had stilled and I was in some sort of peace. How foolish must I have looked, so shaken by the threat of his abandonment?

Go, my Jaime, and I will await your return. I swear it.