Luna's growling woke her before dawn had begun the next morning. Dew covered her hair and her dress was rumpled and stained with dirt. Her head hurt as well and it took her a minute to remember where she was. Robb, Jon, and Theon were all sound asleep on the ground around her, while the horses were tied further away by a clump of trees. She stood up quickly and yelled, "get up! Jon, Theon, Robb, come on. We have to be back before the rest of Winterfell awakens!"
"Shove off, Mer," Theon groaned.
She kicked him, "Theon, get up now. I won't say it again."
Jon rolled over and stood up, "Gods, Merilyn, we're getting up. We're getting up."
They managed to mount the horses and galloped back under the cover of dark. They slipped past the gates and unsaddled the horses with Merilyn shushing their every noise. Her paranoia mounted with every dog's bark and shriek of the wind. She hadn't thought carefully at all last night and her shame mounted every time she remembered her recklessness. This wasn't supposed to be how married women acted and, the seven as the witnesses, she had behaved worse than Arya ever had. Her companions staggered to their beds, moaning about their heads and how Merilyn's ideas were always the worst.
The perpetrator herself was completely unsure of which bed she was supposed to go to. Obviously, last nights actions couldn't have gone unnoticed by her new husband, neither could the empty bed. She colored as the thought of sharing a bed crossed her mind. It was impossible to go back to her shared room with Arya and Septa Mordane had probably already seen to moving her belongings anyway. She yawned. She needed to change before anyone saw her that much was certain. It might be possible for her to sneak in and change before he awoke. She steeled herself, knowing it was the only option she had.
She was soundless through the halls, careful treading lightly across the stone floors. No one was awake in the Keep. Not even the servants had risen yet. The door to his room was unlocked and, luckily, did not creak as she opened it. He was still asleep. Her assumption of Septa Mordane had been correct when her eyes fell on her dresses lined up along the wall. She shut the door softly behind her softly and crept across the room, past the bed to her clothes. She turned her back to the bed and untied her back laces slowly and carefully. It was awkward as she was unused to doing it on her own, but she managed to slide down her first layer of dress, feeling the silk brush against her skin and fall to the floor. The soft exhale the clothing made as it fell resounded like a whisper in the room. She reached back again for the second pair of laces and felt warmth instead of cool clothe. She whirled around and came face to face with her new husband.
"Turn around." He pushed her back to facing the wall. His fingers grazed the top of her shoulders and traced their way down to the laces. His touch heated every piece of skin he touched and she shivered and squirmed. It wasn't efficient or quick like her own maid's touch would've been. He was intentionally lingering. It felt like caressing. The final lace came undone and the second layer fell to the floor, leaving her in her small clothes. His hands slid up her back, to her shoulders, and then to her long hair that had been quickly pinned up during last night's ride. His fingers deftly undid the pins letting them fall to the floor without care and her hair tumbled down her bare shoulders. She felt his fingers lace in it, tugging just lightly enough to turn her to face him.
Her heart was racing and her breath came uneasily to her. His expression was blank, while his eyes roamed her. His hands moved down her neck from her hair and her breath became even shallower.
"Did you have a good night?" He stepped closer to her and she felt herself step away, her back colliding with the cool stone of the wall. His hand stroked her throat and his thumb came to rest on the front of her neck with the rest of his fingers curled the back. His grip was soft, but she knew in an instant they could snap her neck in half. She fought back another shiver.
"I apologize, my L-lord." She cursed herself in her head. Stuttering, really, Merilyn?
He half smiled and she felt heat run through her again. He was extremely attractive. His hair was mussed from sleep and he was shirtless, showing off just how proficient of a knight he was. The muscles were relaxed, mimicking his own attitude at the moment, but there was no mistaking just how strong and muscular he was even in this state.
"If anyone else had noticed your absence you would then have something to apologize. As it stands, you must know it will never happen again. The Lady Lannister will be in the Lord Lannister's bed each night," he leaned in then and whispered into her ear, "I promise, it will not be unpleasant."
With that final whispered seduction, he abruptly turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving a very breathless and confused Merilyn behind in a room with the faint smell of lavender lingering around her.
She had mocked him after fucking him. What kind of man lets his sixteen-year-old virgin wife run off with three highly virile, highly attractive men in the middle of the night, she had asked. She had laughed at him, telling him the girl would never prefer Jaime to the three Northern boys anyway. Cersei told him his own wife didn't want to lie with him.
He knew she was hurting in her own way. In his twin's mind, he could see her fear of being set aside for this younger girl, just as her own husband did on a nightly basis. He knew he shouldn't push her past her limit, but his anger boiled over and he lashed out.
"If that's true, the girl is more like you than anyone else I know. Inviting every man into her bed but her husband sounds familiar, doesn't it, Cersei?"
Her green eyes narrowed to slits and she raised a hand to strike him, but he caught it before it even came near him.
"Come now, dearest sister, shouldn't you feel just a little admiration for her? I think she learned to spread her legs even faster than you. Or maybe you're jealous that she's far superior to you in looks and playing the whore?" He had laughed at her furious expression.
"How dare you call me that? You know that I –"
"Have slept with more men than I've killed?" He laughed harshly.
"You should've been the woman, hidden behind skirts and women's laughter. I should've been the knight, with the sword and bravery." She expelled a breath heavily and Jaime wondered if she was even angry anymore. She merely sounded resigned. She turned and walked to the window, "I have fought for years to make sure the Lannister name is emblazoned with the respect it deserves-"
"Father has been the driving force behind that, I fear to inform you."
"And you think he would've gotten anywhere had he not had me to marry off to the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms?" she let out a rough laugh, "I have worked too hard and too long to watch you fuck up my plans. Bed the girl, raise your own brats, and live as the Lord of Castlerly Rock after Father is away in his grave. But I will see Joffery on the throne. And I will hear nothing more from you about leaving and abandoning all of that." She walked away from the window and towards the door.
"If you walk out, I will not come to you. I will not wait for you or hide with you in the shadows. I will take the girl into my bed and you will no longer be invited there." Jaime stood proudly by his bed.
His twin paused at the door, but finally swept her head up and wrenched the door open, leaving him alone in his room.
"Jaime, come now, brother," Tyrion's voice pulled him out of his thoughts about last night's culmination.
"What?" Jaime looked at his brother, who was smiling knowingly.
"I asked how last night was for you and the girl. The Seven know she came down looking pale enough and hardly ate a thing. I would've wagered you were gentler than that in the bed."
There was raucous laughter from the men sitting around them. Jaime was breaking his fast with the soldiers of the King's and Tyrion, who was enjoying many a jest at the sacrifice of his brother's modesty.
"Aye, Jaime, is she as much of a wolf in the bed as Starks are said to be?" One of the elder knights guffawed annoyingly.
"It's not the Wolf who has to live up to her name, but the Lion! And by the way the girl sat so frailly this morning," the man choked off with laughter.
Jaime stood suddenly and walked out of the Hall. He knew for a fact he had surprised his new wife this morning. Whatever she had expected, it could not have been a sensual Jaime. But his sister's rejection this morning stung in his mind, and he could not help teasing the girl, watching her eyes fill with surprise and her lips part in arousal, with her chest rising and falling rapidly. It was an ego boost if nothing else; knowing even a girl who despised him and the position they were in could be seduced by merely some choice touches. He felt himself grow hard and growled angrily, striding down the halls. He needed to beat the blood out of another man and soon.
The Keep was alive with people running in a melee of different directions. Catelyn was directing those same people as much as she could with little effect, as Merilyn stood off to the side, swaying from exhaustion. All of her senses were overwhelmed and she couldn't understand what was going on at that exact moment. Jon was leading her horse out of the stables and she wanted to protest that her mare needed rest just as much as she did, but knew that would reveal her less-than-well-kept secret. Arya clutched her hand all of a sudden and she looked down at her fiercely stubborn sister who now gazed up at her with misty eyes.
"Do you have to, Mer?"
Sansa snorted next to Merilyn, and Merilyn started, not having realized she was there. She really needed to sleep.
"Of course, she does, Arya. Try not to be stupid."
Arya didn't rise to the taunt and dropped her gaze to the floor, almost mournfully, "But why?"
"Wives don't stay with their father's homes. They must go where their husbands go, Arya. It's their duty." Sansa said pointedly.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Merilyn's eyes widened and she gasped. It was today. Today, the King's party was leaving Winterfell. They were going South. She was leaving home, the North. She was leaving her family, Robb, the little girl clutching her hand like a lifeline, her haughty red-haired sister who reveled in all of the excitement, the baby Rickon, Bran her hopeful knight, the man who always wanted to be older than her because if he was older that meant there was a chance he wasn't a bastard. She was leaving them all. Today.