"Leila, have you seen Arya about?" Merilyn stepped from the room and spotted the handmaiden further down the hallway.
Leila shook her head and responded softly, "She didn't break her fast this morning and she wasn't by the practicing yard either."
Merilyn sighed, "she and Boaden have probably found a new hiding place. Tell Willas to find her, please."
The maid nodded and left the corridor, treading lightly. Merilyn swept a hand over her plaited hair and smoothed down imagined creases in her skirt. She needed to check on Sansa, too, after how she had left her last night. She felt lingering sympathy for the sister she watched grow from a tottering child into a beautiful girl and remembered the absolute misery on her face yesterday. She knew what Sansa thought she felt for Willas wasn't actual love, but instead a strong infatuation and her sympathy grew as she thought back to her own childhood crushes and how long the feeling took to fade. She breathed deeply and fought back a surge of anger. It was still infuriating to think about the lies Sansa had spun so easily. Dealing with Sansa would need to come later.
She swept down the stairs, stopping into the kitchen for a moment to check the progress. Tonight was the Longest Day Celebration and Casterly Rock would host many of the Lannister bannermen as well as many guests from the surrounding area. Jaime had described it as a bright and boisterous tradition that had become a major ordeal in the Southern country. Being a Northerner and of the Olde Religion, Merilyn had little idea what a Longest Day Celebration would entail but she felt the excitement throughout the castle like a heady wine. Even the servants' whispering grew louder and more festive as the days passed and the day grew closer.
She smiled at the cooks' shared enthusiasm and left the indoors through their venting door. She scanned the grounds for Luna, but knew it was likely the direwolf was out wherever Jaime had disappeared. The wolf had taken an odd liking to the next Lord of Casterly Rock. While she shared none of the affection that she piled on Merilyn, Luna often followed Jaime like a detached guard of sorts. According to him, she had once followed him all the way to Lannisport on one of his trips.
The weather was oddly muted; even the waves beat upon the shore in a dull rhythm. Instead of the customary heavy warmth, the wind carried an after-bite that swept warningly across Merilyn's bare skin. Stifling a shiver, Merilyn followed a well-worn path into a higher garden overlooking a sharp cliffside. She heard the sharp cry of gulls circling overhead mingling with the common noise of a busy household. Her siblings departed from the South tomorrow to begin the long journey north, stopping in Riverrun to join their mother and Bran before continuing on. Rickon packed all of his belongings as soon as he heard, even putting sea shells he had discovered into his pack so he could show Bran. Merilyn knew his excitement mostly revolved around seeing Catelyn again and she was happy that he was leaving a much healthier child than he had been when he first arrived.
Willas stepped into the garden, sounding slightly winded as if he'd run all the way up, "Milady, you need to come. It's Boaden… and Arya."
Her stomach dropped as horrifying images appeared in her head. She stood quickly and followed him down, fearful of asking further details.
Instead of heading down towards the shore, they went down to the stables and then behind them where many of the servants' cottages stood. Willas stopped outside of the second one in and looked at Merilyn seriously.
"Boaden passed early this morning and, from what I can tell, she hasn't left since she arrived."
Her voice was lost to her. She opened her mouth more than once to try to say anything, but closed it each time with broken surprise. Willas pushed her gently to the door and she stepped inside, unfeeling of her legs beneath her. A faint beam of sun reached the one window that light the small home and back in the shadow sat a figure on the edge of the only bed.
"Arya?" Her voice broke through hoarsely, "Sweetling, are you there?"
The figure didn't stir as she stepped closer and reached out a hand to rest on her youngest sister's shoulder. Arya sat staring at the covered body, unblinkingly. Just a glance at her sister's face made Merilyn tear up. She took a sharp breath in, stifling the wave of grief, and sat down slowly. Gently, she wrapped an arm across Arya's shoulder.
"What happened, Arya?"
Without looking away from the still form, she spoke. Her tone was uninflected and dull as the waves this morning, "he was babbling – wildings and lost fingers then crying for his mother. I wanted to run for help, but he begged me not to leave him. One minute, he was there and I was telling him to hold on, just stay. But I knew, I could see it – I never knew you could see death before it was even there. Then he was gone."
Sorrow struck Merilyn and she fisted her skirt with her left hand, trying to focus on the pain of her grip and not the heartbreak she could see in her sister. Death wasn't a stranger to Northerners – half their babies died before they left the cradle, but Arya had witnessed the passing of a loved one for the first time and she had been alone. Anger mingled harshly with her sadness at this reminder of how cruel life was and she wished desperately she could save her sister from this pain.
"I'm so sorry, Arya," her words rang hollowly, even in her head. She remembered all the women trying to comfort her at King's Landing when her whole world had shattered around her and how useless their words were in the face of her grief.
Arya finally pulled her gaze away from Boaden and locked eyes with Merilyn. Her dark eyes, so like Robb's and John's, were filled with unshed tears, "Why, Mer, why him?"
"There is no answer for that, Arya. The Olde Gods don't –."
"I hate the Olde Gods." There was no venom in her voice, no anger, just a hardened steel quality.
Merilyn's first reaction was to scold her like every Septa would have growing up, but she remembered again the grey and desolate abandonment she had felt after the death of her child. She hated the Olde Gods in that time. Instead she tightened her grip around Arya and pulled her into a hug.
"I know," she whispered into her sister's hair.
Arya let out a sob and then collapsed into her embrace, crying harder as she drew breath. Merilyn rubbed her back in soft circles and said nothing more, letting her sister mourn freely.
Jaime stepped across the practice yard, dodging the blow his opponent thrust forward and twisted, swinging his sword over his head and striking down. Swords collided with a bursting clang and he pulled his sword upwards, while pushing the man backwards and off balance. The man fell hard and the sword slipped from his grip. With an easy motion, Jaime pointed his sword down at the man, who held his hands up in sheepish surrender. He smirked slightly and sheathed his sword, holding out a hand for the man whose name he couldn't quite remember. The man gave a small bow and walked away, rolling his shoulder in a pained way.
Jaime nodded towards one of the squires and handed the equipment to him, as he saw Willas walk quickly up the yard. He didn't wait for Jaime's permission to interrupt, but entered immediately.
"My Lord, Boaden, the stable boy and Arya's companion, has died and I suspect it was the Heat Sickness that took him."
"Send a runner for the city; find a maester – any maester. Have any of the other children been near him?"
Willas' gaze dropped to the ground, "Arya, she was there when I arrived. Lady Lannister took her back to the castle and has since had her wash and change."
Jaime nodded, "I'll check on them now. Go, send the runner, and then see to the burial of the boy. Sooner rather than later is best, Willas. I'll have Ser Alain notify his family. He knew Boaden best."
Without waiting for a response, Jaime turned on his heel and strode up to the castle. He reached the two Stark girls' room in short time and found a sleeping Arya and his wife standing near her bed, watching. She met his gaze and made a soft shushing noise, gesturing to the door. They walked from the room and she closed the door softly behind her.
"Willas informed you of everything?"
He nodded, taking in her tight mouth and glassy eyes, and nodded his head to the shut door, "How is she?"
Merilyn looked genuinely surprised at the question and he restrained an eye roll.
"Contrary to popular opinion, I do care about people. It's just not many and not often."
She rolled her own eyes then and gave a small shrug, "she's stopped crying and is sleeping. It's the best I can ask for at the moment."
"How are the other two?"
"Rickon doesn't realize anything is wrong. Death isn't in his vocabulary, yet. Sansa was concerned for Arya and was the one to bring her tea. She's down at the shore with Rickon and Leila now."
"They have to leave now. We cannot wait until tomorrow. If the death was from the Heat Sickness, they're vulnerable and putting off their departure will only increase their risk."
She nodded, biting her lower lip. Jaime lifted a hand to her cheek and stroked a thumb across it, "If they leave now, there's a good chance none of them will fall ill."
"Arya sat with his body for hours –."
"Maesters don't think the disease spreads that way. Don't make yourself sick with worry. They need you strong and confident. All three of them will look to you."
She nodded again, letting out a slow breath and straightened her shoulders. He felt proud that she could do this – pull herself together in a few moments because it was necessary.
"Ser Roderick is gathering everyone and the necessary supplies are being packed. He's said they'll be ready within the hour. I worry the journey is too soon for Arya though." She bit her lip again and he pulled his attention from the glistening skin and back to what she was saying.
"The journey will help more than hurt. It will be another adventure and her attention will be distracted from her grief. Wallowing here at Casterly Rock will only remind her constantly."
"I only hope Sansa's newfound maturity will last until they are safe at home."
"We will send a healer with them on the trip in case any of them should fall ill."
She brushed a hand across her forehead, "Should we still hold the Celebration, Ser? Families are bringing their children…"
"We wouldn't be able to stop it, no matter what. People are already arriving and the servants might possibly revolt if we take away their night of mischief. It's a celebration unto itself. The Sickness is everywhere in the Southern kingdom at this time and it persuades none otherwise."
Boots sounded in the hall and Ser Roderick appeared in front of them. He bowed slightly to Merilyn and inclined his head towards Jaime, which was a step above his normal behavior of simply ignoring him.
"Everything is set, Lady. We can leave as soon as you wish."
"You've gathered the provisions from the kitchens? You have sufficient men?" None of the worry he could read in her body language colored her words and she looked far older than she was.
Ser Roderick nodded and commented further, but Jaime's attention wandered to Merilyn's neck where wisps of her hair had fallen from her plait and were curled brushing her skin lightly. Normally by this time the sun would've warmed the castle and there would be a sheen of sweat at her hairline, but on this colder day, he could see the hairs raised on her skin and the faintest shades of blue tinge her nails and veins. Her body gave no indication of the child growing inside her except the slight rounding of her face, though every time he looked at her he saw flashes of her when she was full with child. She had grown beautiful, he surmised with some surprise. What he once described as cold beauty bloomed into a searing allure unexpectedly and there were moments when he couldn't comprehend his draw to her. It was almost overwhelming how beautiful he found her.
She smiled at Ser Roderick as he excused himself from her presence and turned her gaze back to Jaime, "I'm going to wake Arya and Ser Roderick is going to find Sansa and Rickon. They'll leave immediately. Is Willas directing our guests to their rooms?"
"I'll take care of it myself. I won't see you until later tonight then, most likely at the beginning of the celebration. Say good-bye to your siblings for me and do not worry yourself anymore. We're taking care of this as best we can and they'll be safe." He leant forward and captured her mouth in a warm kiss. She responded by leaning into him and laying her hands upon his upper arms. Wanting to further the kiss, but knowing otherwise, he broke their contact gently and kissed her forehead more chastely. She let her hands fall from his arms and stepped away.
He pivoted and exited the corridor and glanced back briefly to see her enter the room again to wake her sister.
She ached to her very bones. Pregnancy had already robbed her of what little energy she kept spare and today had been overly trying. Leila was lacing her gown up, a gorgeous myriad of crimson and black that spiraled all around her. Her long hair was unplaited and fell low down her back and Leila remarked more than once on the beauty of it. Merilyn knew she looked pretty, but there was no part of her that felt it. She sighed and stepped away as Leila finished.
The hall was loud, festive, and outlandishly decorated in the brightest colors. She walked in, smiling widely as she greeted the guests that already reeked of wine and lust. Her husband stood amongst a group of men, but as his gaze landed on her, he left swiftly making his way to her directly.
His smirk was wide as he reached her hand and led her further into the room. She smiled as his eyes swept over her form, and she saw his eyes darken in approval. Instead of leading her towards the men he had left, he guided her to the floor where couples were dancing gaily. He leaned in as he danced surefooted, steering her, "You look utterly delectable tonight."
His breath tickled her ear and her stomach swooped from the warmth and his words. She smiled up at him, "I've heard all husbands must say that to their wives."
His smirk grew, "Yes, it is a requirement, as most women allow men into their beds more easily once satisfyingly complimented."
She laughed then, throwing her head back as he twirled her around. The room was filled with music and lights in a delightfully overwhelming way, and she felt her fatigue fade the more Jaime smirked at her.
"It is a wonder that I ever let you in my bed then, with how little you compliment me," she smiled as she said it. Jaime hardly complimented with words, but his unspoken words were easily translated for her now. The more she learned about him, the more she realized how heavily he relied on his actions to speak what words he couldn't.
He chuckled lowly, "Why, my lady, you receive enough compliments from others that I worry you might become too haughty for my tastes if I were to tell you what I truly think of you."
She laughed lightly, stroking the back of his neck lightly, "Then you should never risk that, for I would rather die than not appeal to your tastes and sensibilities, my lord."
He pulled her flush against him and she reveled in the feel of him so close to her while in the public eye. It was a visceral feeling, one like he was laying claim to her. The music quieted and the roar of people talking rose.
Jaime led her away, towards the head table, and signaled to the revel that the feast was about to begin. A priest that Merilyn didn't recognize spoke of the gifts given to them by the Seven and how they deserve all praise and then people's chattering and the clanking of silverware filled the room. She felt happiness flood her fully, her worry and anxiety from the day draining away. Her siblings were safe, her babe was growing, and her husband looked upon her with a smile now.
The night passed in quick manner and before long, Merilyn was lying alongside Jaime in their room. He had overindulged in the wine and complained of a headache. He felt warm to her touch and she had wet a rag and was slowly draping it across different parts of him, hoping it would relieve some of his ache. She couldn't help a teasing laugh every now and again at her normally stoic and strong husband, now whining about his pain and uncomfortableness. Slowly, he drifted to sleep and she followed shortly after, music from the night's festivities floating through her head.