Jaime rolled his eyes again at the Septon's lengthy speech about cherishing young wives. The man must have believed Jaime would beat the girl on a daily basis from the way he talked. He had never hit a dog, let alone a woman. That could be left to men such as Robert Baratheon.
Everyone was assembled in the Godswood. The wind was bitingly cold even through the cloak Jaime was wearing, which happened to be his most ornate and therefor heaviest. People were listening to the Septon, whether out of politeness or interest he couldn't tell. In the middle of another sentence laden with warning about Old Gods and how they watched everything, the Septon fell silent suddenly and his stare fell on the path that led to the keep of Winterfell.
The girl stood at the top of the path with her Lord Father. They both surveyed the scene emotionlessly and began the descent down the path. Her hair fell in deep red curtains and the bright sheen was only enhanced by the deep black and pearl covered dress. The colors of Stark were more than obvious when glancing at the eldest daughter of their house. The attending audience all seemed to hold their breath as she floated past them down to the Heart Tree where Jaime stood.
He grudgingly admitted to himself that she was indeed beautiful in a Northern way. There was an icy fortitude that he almost admired. His Lady Bride came to stop in front of him, looking directly over his shoulder, towards the forests around them. As her father unclasped her Maiden's Cloak, he saw her eyes move even more frantically around their surroundings and felt a pang of sympathy at her panic. The fur fell from her shoulders and she shivered, for the cold reached her far more easily now. She then inhaled deeply and looked at the Septon expectantly.
Jaime wondered what was going through her mind at this moment. Her hands were clenching and unclenching as a way of fidgeting and she was blinking rapidly, otherwise her outward demeanor showed exacting calm. Mayhap she was thinking the Tully words, Family-Duty-Honor? He saw Cersei off to the side, next to the King and Joffery. They all looked utterly bored. In opposition, the entire Stark family looked almost stricken.
Jaime was jerked from his thoughts, realizing the Septon was speaking the Olde language, the language evolved from the First Men. Same as last night the ceremony would incorporate North rites. The Septon was invoking blessings from the Old Gods, along with interweaving the Seven. Both the Septon and Jaime recited the significance of the cloak exchanges, and he recognized the promises he was parroting after the Septon.
Jaime took his red and gold cloak from his shoulders and placed them on the girl's thin frame, feeling the cold skin of her shoulders under the warmth of his fingers. Her eyes flashed up, meeting his own for the first time during the entire ceremony and he felt familiar disbelief that her eyes were that impossibly blue. The click of his clasp was the only noise in the room. And the significance of the sounded echoed far louder in his own head. She was now in his house, his care. Merilyn Stark no longer existed in the eyes of gods and seven kingdoms. Here now stood his wife, Lady Lannister, under his embroidered cloak, under his protection.
The kiss was cool and simple. It spoke of no history as every kiss between Cersei and he did. It made no promises and lit no flames. But it sealed a long old ritual between man and woman. It was the final link in the chain that would bind them to this life-long travesty. No passion. No love. They were man and wife now, just a contracted obligation to family, duty, honor.
They'd made it back to the Hall somehow. She was on the arm of Jaime Lannister, her husband. People were congratulating them heavily from all sides of her and she managed polite, dutiful responses. She knew Jaime was watching her. It her then, that they'd never actually said a single word to each other that hadn't been dictated by a ceremony. She looked up into the green eyes of her Lord and opened her mouth to say something but shut it upon realizing she had nothing of value to say to him. She couldn't make polite conversation about the weather.
He pulled her chair from the table, gesturing for her to sit. It wasn't near her own family, instead she was seated in between Jaime and Tyrion with the King and Queen nearby. The meaning behind this was to show she was a Lannister now. She glanced at her old seat by Robb longingly, but sat in the offered chair gracefully and murmured a soft thank you.
"I'm sure you must feel quite elated at this moment," the queen smiled coldly across the table, "married into the richest home in the Seven kingdoms."
Merilyn picked up the wine glass in front of her, trying to believe the question was meant in jest and not spite, "In truth, your grace, I had not thought of it in such a way." She refrained from making a face at the bitterness of the wine.
The queen laughed aloud, and the mocking tone couldn't be ignored this time, "Why, Jaime, she's quite the little lady!" She turned back to Merilyn, "Jaime used to say how he loathed how women hid behind courtesies instead of being forthright and honest."
Merilyn's confusion was growing. Obviously the Queen disliked her, but for what reasons. Instead of answering, she just took another large gulp of her goblet. The bitterness faded, she discovered, the more she did that.
Tyrion jumped into conversation then, "I doubt the new Lady Lannister was hiding behind false courtesy, dearest sister. Obviously, she's thrilled at such an arrangement, just look at her beaming face."
Her face, in fact, resembled the look of shell-shocked men who'd just returned from war. Seven gods, she was a Lannister now. The fact had just begun to sink in. Her head was also beginning to throb from reading into everything her new family was implying behind every word. She was starting to enjoy her second cup of wine.
Glancing at Ser Jaime, she found him eating unconcernedly. He hardly seemed to be listening to either of his siblings. She tried to adopt his attitude but couldn't muster up even the smallest of appetites, and consoled herself with attention to her cups; all trace of bitterness was gone.
The Hall grew steadily louder and more obnoxious, especially when the Lord of Winterfell retired for the night. Merilyn recognized many of the paid women Theon often spoke about in a boasting manner wandering the Hall or sitting on the laps of men, unashamed. The jokes in the hall grew more and more lewd by the moment. She knew what they were referring to and felt this morning's earlier fear creep back into her stomach. Her mother had explained where babies had come from once when she was eleven and Rickon had been born. Theon often talked about the act itself in detailed tones to Robb and Jon, but she didn't believe everything he'd said. Many times Septa Mordane would berate him and her brothers for their comments about it. Merilyn's own Septa had called it nothing more than a married couple's duty. It was for child making only, but many of the maids whispered about it when they hadn't realized Merilyn was eavesdropping and they giggled about the pleasure that came from such an act.
Merilyn's first kiss had been less than a few hours ago and later tonight she would be expected to consummate the kiss further. She tried thinking objectively instead of out of pure terror. Ser Jaime wasn't unattractive. He was actually pleasant to look at, she realized as she glanced at him. He had all of his teeth at least. Maybe it would be simple, quick.
The more wine she had, the more worried she became. Was it possible to perform badly during that… act? Would he find her loathsome and not desirable?
She stood up suddenly, making a split decision. She caught Robb's gaze and gestured for him to follow her out. No one took notice of her leaving. Most were too drunk to even realize she was, and the ones who did would assume she was simply using the chamber pot or something. Robb was behind her as they reached outside. He looked at her concerned.
"Are you all right? You look flushed, Mer?" She saw Jon and Theon exit the Hall and join them.
She stared at all three, "Saddle the horses. We're going hunting." She walked towards the stables, confidently, even if a little shaky on her feet.
"Merilyn," Jon ran to catch up with her, "there's a bit of a feast occurring right now, do you know this?"
She ignored him and entered the stables, pulling her saddle onto her mare. Seeing she wasn't going to stop, they followed her lead and saddled their own mounts as well. She jumped into the saddle, sitting astride for the first time in her life. Irritated with her skirts, she yanked them up baring all of her legs to mid thigh. Jon and Robb exchanged a worried glance.
"Mer, how much have you had to drink?" Robb nudged his horse to a stop beside hers and tried to reach for her reigns. She dodged his reach and coaxed her horse outside the gates of Winterfell, steadily picking up speed, leaving behind the laughter, the celebration, the husband. Merilyn ran.
He had seen her leave, followed by her brothers and Greyjoy like faithful dogs. He knew she wasn't coming back tonight and felt an odd weight lifted from him. Bedding a sixteen-year-old maid had intimidated the man who would ride into any battle without fear. To the side, Cersei had smirked knowingly. She was on her most infuriating behavior tonight, even managing to prod Tyrion into defending the Stark, no, Lannister girl… his wife. Cersei had wanted a reaction from him and so he hadn't even acknowledged he'd heard the conversation. He knew his twin well enough to know she would tire of the taunts if no one rose to her bait. And he'd been right. His little wife had been full of confusion at his sister's hostility though. He knew she was in for a surprise if she had thought to find friends in Cersei. If anything, the girl would become Cersei's best target because she couldn't attack Robert and Jaime hadn't given a reaction.
Jaime then rose from the table and departed silently as well. He wanted a bed and a dreamless sleep. Gods knew when his father finally found out about what had happened tonight in Winterfell, he'd never peacefully sleep again. The Hall was mostly drunk beyond recognition and there were no Starks remaining at the High table. No one would remember if the consummation had taken place or not, and neither would anyone argue if Jaime said it had. He reached his guest room and stripped quickly. His finery lay in a pile on the floor and he had no energy to amend that at all. He felt more exhausted from today's events then all the battles he'd fought put together. His head hit the pillow with a sigh and he felt the familiar weightless feeling of partial sleep come to him.
The scent of lavender filled the room and his sense and the bed gave under the weight of another person. In his sleep-filled haze, he turned to the warmth of the person next to him. The small hands slipped over his bare skin and down lower still. He felt himself become aroused easily enough. As if in a dream state, his neck was being kissed and bitten interchangeably, while the small hands worked over his hardness. His own hands tangled themselves in the soft curtain of hair the same color as his own. His hips began to buck up into her talented hands and their lips met fiercely, completely different from the chaste kiss he had received earlier. The hands below moved and were replaced with wet warmth that caused him to moan a single name. Cersei.
They'd been wandering the forest for a fair amount of time, acting very much like they had when they were younger, laughing and chasing the unsuspecting game quite haphazardly. They stopped in a clearing, breathless from adrenaline and laughter.
"So, my Lady Lannister," Jon teased, " why are we in the middle of Winterfell's forests instead of merrily celebrating your marriage?"
"Be silent, Jon. I left so I wouldn't have to think about it."
Theon leered at her, "I'm sure your Lord Husband is missing your presence. His bed must be cold."
"I will knock you off your mount, just so you have fair warning."
"Come now! He's well looking! Many of the court ladies are jealous of your luck!"
Merilyn snorted, "These being the same ladies who invite you into their beds? Their tastes are not exactly particular then."
Robb and Jon roared, while Theon said he'd pray to the seven for Ser Jaime's patience. Merilyn dismounted, dizzily, and sat in a heap next to a tree, leaning her head back. The wine still ran strong in her veins, making her feel light headed and reckless together. Robb dropped down next to her, still chuckling from her barb towards Theon.
"Robb, what is it like?" Ladies didn't speak of such things, she knew. But sitting in the middle of the forest, drunk on strong wine, and having just abandoned her own wedding, she didn't feel much like a lady.
Yawning, Robb looked at her in confusion, "What's what like?"
"The bedding." She said simply. He was awake now, staring at her in shock.
He stuttered a few times, " I, uh, I d-don't th-think, I mean, Mer, I don't really know."
She scoffed, "I know about Ros, Robb. Did you really think we have secrets from each other? I need to know, Robb. Is it pleasant? Does it hurt? What is it like?"
He took a deep breath and looked at the sky, exhaling loudly. She couldn't tell if he was blushing or not, "It's not proper for us to t-."
She cut him off, trying to stand, "Fine, I'll go talk to Theon about it."
He grabbed her wrist and forced her to sit again, "The last person you want advice about this from is Theon." He sighed, "It's different from girls, I would imagine. It's never painful for men. And it's mostly always pleasurable for men. The woman's pleasure is mostly derived from the man's skill. It's not terrible, Mer. You may even enjoy it."
"Are there certain things I need to do, in order to – to make it good?"
Robb shook his head, "It's not shooting a bow. There's no set way with instructions. Just don't be too nervous."
"He doesn't like me." She bit her lip and looked up at her older brother, the words pouring out of her.
He shook his head, "Nonsense, you're beautiful and clever. You can run a smooth household and you've always been levelheaded and mature about everything. You're the perfect wife. You both just need time to adjust to one another."
"When did you become suddenly wise?" She teased, leaning her head on his shoulder.
"We're old now, Merilyn," His voice suddenly became serious, "We're no longer children, even if we tried to be tonight. When I saw you in the Godswood today, I could literally feel your terror, but you didn't once flinch, the same as Bran at the execution. Winter is coming. And we have to be ready."