Merilyn heaved herself up from kneeling by the chamber pot, wiping sweat off her forehead and coughing lightly.
Her mouth tasted sour from the sickness and her stomach still rolled as she straightened her skirts and patted her hair to make sure it was still in place. Septa Aliane clucked sympathetically behind her.
"Shall I call the Healer now, Milady?"
She shook her head; "I got the sickness from one of the serving girls or Leila. She's been coughing lately. I'll be fine. Did any letters come?"
The Septa raised her eyebrows unbelievingly, but did not pursue the subject further. "No, milady, there were no letters."
Merilyn sighed. Ser Jaime had been gone two fortnights now, off in King's Landing with her Good Father. They had been called by King Robert to bring men, and money Merilyn secretly thought, to monitor a shipment coming in from Essos. Jaime's letters had said very little else. Willas had told Merilyn one day that rumour was the King was afraid of a rebellion stirring and questioned any ships coming into Blackwater Bay, especially such a large fleet.
Willas had become a useful asset to Merilyn. He often helped her with decisions regarding the men and the security of the castle and she trusted his judgment far more than the Maester's. He often sat with her and the women of Castlerly Rock late at night, telling them stories of King's Landing and entertaining them from the weariness of Castlerly Rock life. She dearly appreciated his youth and humour and found herself oftentimes reminded of Theon.
She'd had several ravens from home.
Robb had written the longest letter, telling her of Arya's stubbornness and Bran's disobedience to their Mother and her wishes for him to quit climbing. He wrote of Grey Wind missing Luna and Jon's restlessness. He guessed it wouldn't be long now until Jon left for the Wall. Merilyn could almost hear the sadness in her brother's voice. At the end of Robb's letter after he had signed his farewell, Arya scrawled out her short but sincere message. "You should come home. Sansa is unbearable and keeps talking about when she shall be married. Our room is cold without you. Love, Arya."
Her mother's letter was shorter and less detailed. She spoke of every day life and how the Keep was being run. It was simple and straightforward and just as clearly as she heard Robb's sadness she could hear her mother's love in the letter.
It eased the ache of homesickness that she had felt receiving those letters and made her more determined to run Castlerly Rock the way her own mother ran Winterfell. She would overthrew the gloom that seemed to inhabit the very corners of the castle and fight the hard battle to bring the Southern sunshine into the home instead.
"Milady?" Septa Aliane asked.
Merilyn shook herself from her thoughts, "I'm sorry, Septa. What did you say?"
"I asked if you required anything else from me?"
"Did Willas find my horse?" She asked suddenly, looking at the older woman.
The man in question appeared at the doorway, "No, I did not, Milady. It seems one of the men was given her before setting out for King's Landing, per the orders of Lord Tywin."
Merilyn refused to let her anger show and instead nodded. She picked up the log book of Castlerly Rock that she had demanded from Culwin and flipped the pages uninterestedly. She looked back up at the door.
"Do make sure when Lord Tywin returns that Luna is not shown the same treatment as my horse, will you?"
Willas grinned widely and nodded, turning on his heel and leaving the room.
Merilyn felt her stomach turn again and groaned aloud, "Aliane, you are permitted to leave."
Jaime slipped from the room, glancing from one end of the hall to the other. He knew he looked like a child who had just stolen food from the kitchens. He knew it was stupid, foolish to crawl into Cersei's bed under the very noses of both their father and her husband. But she was an intoxication he couldn't resist.
He made it back to his room and fell onto the bed. His mind was whirling with broken vows and unkempt promises. He hadn't made it two weeks before falling back under her spell. She'd come to him, at least. He hadn't gone begging to her. But all it took was one look, green eyes filled with knowledge, and he forgot all his oaths sworn in anger and he had fallen back between her legs. He had fucked her so easily. It was like returning to battle that had already been fought. He knew the layout, the planning of it. He knew where and who to fight.
He'd thought of Merilyn though. It'd angered him. He hated it. Every time he looked down at the golden hair splayed on the pillow, his eyes would remind him of a crimson curtain that waited back at home. When his eyes met her green piercing gaze, he'd remember deep, unfathomable blue eyes filled with tears, looking up at him with trust. The chit of a girl invaded his mind. It wasn't love. He knew it wasn't. It was guilt. And that guilt turned his stomach.
Cersei's love was all Jaime had ever known. He'd told her over and over again, with sweetened, honeyed words how much he loved her. She was all that had mattered, once upon a time. But it had changed. Their love had been warped, maybe even forgotten. Cersei grew to love power. Jaime loved a shadow of a sister that had grown up.
With those twisted thoughts floating through his head, Jaime picked himself up and went down to break his fast.
Tyrion was already eating with Tommen and Myrcella. The two children were laughing brightly at their Uncle as he pulled another face. Jaime dropped down in the chair next to him and filled his flagon with wine immediately. He realized he was getting as bad as his twin with his drinking habits.
"You've had a raven," Tyrion said nonchalantly, "the girl's handwriting, if I am correct."
Jaime took it from Tyrion's hand without glancing at it and habitually tore open the seal. It was written daintily and precisely. It was also short and to the point. Jaime dropped the letter. Tyrion looked up at him then curiously.
"Bad news?"
Jaime cleared his throat, "she writes that she is with child."
"Well, well, done, my brother!" Tyrion grinned, almost mockingly.
Jaime drank heavily from his flagon and looked back down at the letter. Starks were fertile then. He'd only lain with the girl twice. The guilt he'd felt earlier crept back up.
Both Cersei and Tywin walked in then. The King followed closely behind. Cersei kissed both of her children and sat down next to Robert, while Tywin sat on the opposite side. He noticed Jaime's hands holding the letter.
"News?" He asked curtly.
"Jaime is to be a father, Father." There was no mistaking Tyrion's lighthearted tone this time. He was enjoying this far too much for Jaime's liking.
Cersei choked on her rabbit and Tywin looked at Jaime calculatingly.
"Did she write of anything else?" His voice was flat and uncaring.
Jaime shook his head, trying to read Cersei's reaction. She was furious. He noticed he didn't feel at all drawn to her when she was angry like he had been when Merilyn was upset. He felt nothing short of exasperation.
"I don't know why you didn't bring the girl along," broke in Baratheon casually.
Tywin looked at him with veiled contempt, "We came to protect the King. Why expose a girl to that?"
Robert chuckled, "The threat is low. Just better safe than sorry. Besides, you're newly wed. I'm sure you long to back in her bed, come now, Ser Jaime." He winked roguishly.
Cersei stood up suddenly and said something about training a new girl and left in a whirl of scarlet gown. Jaime stood up also and said he would join the men in the yard to spar. He caught up with her easily and grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop walking and face him.
"What did you expect?" He asked her, infuriated at her anger at him.
"I didn't expect you to fall into the whore's bed so quickly. Or so often." She spat at him.
"She's my wife. There would be many questions if we didn't have a child. You know this. It's no different from you and Baratheon."
She hissed angrily, "Baratheon had one night with me. The rest were with you."
"You got with child from that night, am I correct?" Jaime's voice was low.
She slapped him then and spun around, leaving him standing there.
He groaned in frustration and lashed out with his fist at the wall once. The searing pain in his fist spurred him forward, out of the castle, into the training yards. The Seven have mercy on whichever poor soul volunteered to fight him first.