Hello, all! This is a slightly longer update with some action. I hope you enjoy it. Another friendly reminder, if you hit the follow button - go ahead and hit that review button. I'd greatly appreciate it.
Also, for all my reviewers, thank you so much! I really write these for the feedback I get. This story doesn't follow the same timeline as ASOIAF and GOT, because I kind of tweaked it. Jon Arryn is still alive and will play a part in this story.
Thanks again and I love you all for coming back time and time again! - Lady Fountainhead
He was gone when a small girl named Leila waked her, who she learned was to be her handmaiden from this point on. After dressing and eating a small portion of dried rabbit, Merilyn realized the long journey still left and eyed her saddle distrustfully. This morning she'd discovered the evidence that last night had actually happened on the inside of her thighs. Though last night she had felt no pain, the soreness existed now.
Stubbornly, she mounted the saddle, though she chose the safer sidesaddle option.
She saw Jaime once throughout the hours of riding, and even then it had been but a glance, before her attention had been once again drawn back to the chattering women that she rode with.
Many of the women, hearing some of the gentlemen comment on Merilyn's riding skills, refused to be outdone and had decided to forego the carriage and ride alongside her. Which Merilyn found highly annoying. Instead of being able to observe the women's inane interactions from afar, she was forced into the very middle of it and into acting politely ladylike.
She nodded yet again, as Lady Ashby commented on the beauty of the North for the third time. Merilyn wondered if Lady Ashby was trying to garner her approval for some reason. She certainly did not really like the North for Merilyn had overheard her complaining to another woman about the cold.
She stifled the urges to roll her eyes or ride away from them all. She looked at Luna, who shared the same bored stare she'd been hiding, and smiled fondly. At least, she'd always have her wolf.
She was furious, that much was certain to Jaime. She had been barreling around the corner, and had run directly into him. She looked up at him, her eyes glowing with anger, and then suddenly anger shifted to surprise and then uncertainty. He felt himself grow aroused at the memory of last night's events. Reigning in his hormones, he looked at her.
"Good evening."
She nodded, shyly, "Good evening."
"And what has upset my little wife?"
He saw the anger flash back for a brief moment, but then fade away and the uncertainty return. He'd have to find a way to get rid of that.
"Nothing, my lord."
He decided not to push, "How are you feeling today then?" He quirked an eyebrow teasingly.
She did flush then and that caused a familiar tightening he'd experienced earlier. He half-smirked, letting last night's memory float up. He hadn't expected to get as much enjoyment from it as he had. He had wanted to bed her, if only in spite of Cersei. No matter what she may say, he knew fucking the girl would anger his twin greatly and that was his main goal of the moment.
There was no guilt from sleeping with a woman other than her. The girl had been innocent and unknowing, so much easier to please. And that itself had been extremely arousing. Cersei had always known what she wanted, what she expected from him and her habit of leaving after getting what she wanted irked him. She'd grown accustomed to getting what she wanted.
Merilyn's reaction had been nothing short of wonder. And she'd been there all night, for him. Cersei took control away from him and gave nothing in return. The young love they'd had, had slowly been consumed by Cersei's ambitions and Jaime's apathy. And his twin refused to acknowledge and try to change that no matter how much Jaime begged. But the girl's youth and inexperience was a breath of fresh air that attracted him more than he had felt in a long time.
"I feel very well, My Lord." She looked like she would say more but then the direwolf she always had around suddenly growled and raised its hackles.
Both Jaime and she looked around in surprise. The glades that were known to the South were more frequent and the trees were starting to disappear, indicating that they were coming to the Borders of the North. Nothing was moving in the short grass fields.
"Is your wolf often prone to growling at the wind?"
The girl was looking at her wolf in somewhat shock, "I've never heard that noise from her before."
Jaime scanned his surroundings again. Years of warfare had taught him that animals were the first to sense danger and it was unwise to ever shrug off the warnings of one.
"Stay near the encampment." He addressed the girl curtly and turned towards where members of the King's Guard were standing.
She had half a mind to growl herself at Ser Jaime's abrupt orderings. Merilyn wasn't one of the stupid court girls who hadn't a single clue how to take care of themselves in the wilderness. She had hunted with her father, outshot all of her brothers and had tracked and killed many of the animals women talked about in hushed whispers. She was perfectly capable of understanding that a direwolf's warning wasn't something to be overlooked.
Merilyn stomped to the tent that held Castlerly Rock's flag and signified her home for the evening, pushing back the tent flap violently and let a scream rip from her throat.
The man standing in front of her with a smile reached out with one dirt-covered hand and clamped down on her, yanking her to him. The same hand covered Merilyn's scream and she felt panic rise as the man's other hand roamed her body.
Desperation rose with another scream and she bit down, tasting dirt and blood. Some part of her brain heard the man's yell of pain, but the major part of her was focused on getting out of his grip. Kicking and screaming, she was made contact with his shin and he roared again.
His hand connected with her face and it was her turn to yelp in pain. She fell to the floor and her vision blurred, hardly seeing the boot connect with her ribs. She rolled with the force of the blow, ignoring the burning of hot tears in her eyes, and groped around for the edge of the tent, using it as leverage to pull herself up.
There was the sound of metal being unsheathed and her hair was suddenly being pulled painfully forcing her backwards into the man again. The stench of wine and sweat clung to him and her nostrils protested, even as she kicked out limply. The knife was at her throat and without her permission a whimper escaped her. Time seemed to pass more slowly. Her brain focused on small things, the trickle of blood from where the knife had nicked, the smell of her fear and his obvious alcoholism, his hands ripping her dress apart.
The man let out a small noise and loosened his grip, his weight falling forward onto her and a warm wetness leaking onto her back. She stumbled forward and another pair of hands pulled her up, leaving her attacker to fall to the ground, a sword with a gilded handle protruding from his back.
Jaime stood with one hand clamped on her forearm tightly, painfully. His eyes roamed her quickly, looking for major injuries. When he was satisfied she was well enough to leave, he pulled her from the tent and picked her up, throwing her onto his own horse.
"Ride for the trees. Willas is there with a few men. Do what he says."
It was then that she saw the battlefield the encampment had become. The King's Guard was spread out fighting what looked like a group of Wildlings. Some of the tents had been set afire and the screams of dying men and frightened women combined for the worst sound Merilyn had ever heard.
"Merilyn! Go." Jaime looked at her and she saw he was covered in blood. That was the first time he ever used her name.
She urged the horse forward but felt hands on her dress pull her down.
She hit the ground with a groan as her horse sped off without her. She looked up at another man, who had torn the bottom half of her dress off, with anger instead of panic this time.
A quick glance to her left and she saw Jaime fighting two men while glancing at her every other blow. She realized he was worried about her. Anger turned to adrenaline and kicked upwards into the man, forcing him to his knees.
Robb had taught her the most fragile spots on a man before and she hadn't forgotten. She stood up threw her full weight onto the man with a yell. His axe skidded from his hand in surprise and she scrambled for it. The man grabbed her ankle but she kicked again, dislodging his grip. Twisting around she brought the axe down with a sickening thud onto the man's shoulder.
He screamed. Merilyn ignored it.
Stepping back, she pulled the axe out and slammed it down again. This time the noise coming from the man was more of a gurgle and the crack from his skull reverberated in her brain. She let go of the axe and stumbled backwards.
Hands gripped her shoulders and she turned around, yelling in fright and hit blindly. The hands grabbed her own flailing ones, and forced them to her sides. She looked up at Jaime and felt the fight leave her body. Her knees, shaking, threatened to stop supporting her and she leaned against Jaime completely drained.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking embarrassingly.
"You're fine now," his voice was steady and emotionless, which made her want to cry all the more.
She glanced back at her attacker who now had an axe sticking from his skull.
"Don't look," Jaime's voice was harsher and he led her away from the encampment. She noticed the Wild men had left. The King's Guard were picking up the bodies and piling them in a stack. It seemed like a dream, covered in some kind of haze. She followed Jaime obediently and took him in slowly. The blood that covered his clothes seemed to be from other people and his shirt had been torn, revealing a particularly muscular torso. She hadn't noticed that last night. It had been too dark.
She looked away from him, ashamed of where her thoughts had gone. She remembered something else.
"Luna," she gasped looking up at Jaime in terror.
"She's around. I'd be more fearful of what she is doing than where she is. Last I saw, some poor man had become dinner. She's quite the warrior, your little wolf."
"Takes after her mistress than, doesn't she, Lannister?" A man she recognized as the secondary commander of the King's Guard came over. What was his name?
"Jarent," Jaime inclined his head. That answered that question. Gods, Merilyn was exhausted. She wanted her bed – or Jaime's body. She shook her head mentally. Hopefully no one saw her blushing. What the hell was coming over her?
"Half the men saw your little wife wielding an axe. They won't cross her for certain." Jarent smiled widely.
"I'm less concerned with my wife's battle skills and more concerned with how Wildlings managed to come into the encampment with none of the sentries realizing it." His voice was clipped. Funnily enough, he sounded like Merilyn's father when he berated Bran for climbing Winterfell's walls.
Jarent's smile faded, "I take full responsibility for that, my Lord. I hadn't posted sentries yet. Yesterday the King had complained the encampment wasn't being set up fast enough, so I told many of the Guard to help. They must've been watching us for some time."
Merilyn felt herself sway slightly. Her stomach was turning as her mind replayed the last few minutes' happenings. Jaime's arm settled onto her waist, discreetly supporting her and she felt relief.
"And the King is?"
"Grumbling about how he wasn't able to partake. Willas took him and the Court to safety immediately as you ordered. I've sent Rousse to get them as soon as the area has been cleaned."
"We'll need to move. I doubt they'll come back, but with the women and children with us, no reason to be foolish about it. Send twenty men to Willas and tell them to keep looking for another place to make camp. Keep the court on the move until we catch up with them."
Jarent nodded and gave a quick half-bow, leaving immediately to carry out orders. The Lannister Lord then turned to her and appraised her.
"Do you know anything about healing?"
Merilyn pulled away from him standing on her own feet and was proud when she was steady, "Yes. All Stark children are taught basics."
"You can go with the men Jarent sends and stay with the Court until I come get you or you stay and –."
"I'll stay." The last thing she wanted was to be with the Court.
He looked at her seriously, "there are wounded men. It'll be entirely different from what you're used to."
"Don't send me away." Her voice didn't break, but she could hear the tone of desperation. She would feel ashamed about it later. She couldn't leave. Luna was nowhere to be found and Merilyn had just killed a man. She was safe with Jaime. She had seen his look when he couldn't get to her. He would take his vows seriously. Leaving him meant she was vulnerable again.
He nodded, "The Court physician is with the rest of court, but his supplies are here. I'll bring them and the wounded to you."
He turned and strode away, leaving her standing in the middle of a glade, desperately wanting nothing more than to be home, safe and sound, free of the blood now staining her hands.