Flashes of memories jarringly replayed before Merilyn's eyes: vows spoken in the Godswood, their violent coupling the first night at Casterly Rock, disagreement over Matilde, waking to his face after losing their first child, Jaime's fingers gliding over her hair, the swirl of her dress while dancing with him. Bile rose in her throat, burning and choking back words that she wished to hurl at him. She thought of accusing, of pleading for denial, of wishing him to contradict the letter, of remaining silent. None lessened the anger and pain she felt. Instead she turned her head, forcing her chin out of his grip, and took a deep breath. The sun was in the window, throwing a golden backdrop across the sky. She imagined the ocean was calm and thought surprisingly of how she hadn't longed for the sight of snow in quite a while.
She could hear Jaime's breath, too controlled to feel natural, yet giving no indication of worry or shame. What if he mocked her for caring what he did outside their home? Men often strayed. Her own father had a bastard child that she dearly loved as her own brother, and she never once thought of how her mother felt raising that same child in her own home. Adultery was commonplace in their world. The idea that she cared for him while he cared nothing for her hurt more than she wanted to admit.
Merilyn's body ached. She felt her throat constrict with tears, and closed her eyes to the outside view, "Please leave," were the only words she could force out.
Her head swam as her hand moved to her lower stomach. She remembered the nightmare version of childbirth she'd been forced to endure. Culwin surprised her repeatedly throughout the process with encouragement, even as he instructed her of how to rid her body of Casterly Rock's heir. She'd once overheard septas saying that the pain of childbirth woke a mother's love, and that it was worth it the moment the baby was placed in a mother's arms, but Meredith had no such gift given to her. Her arms were empty, though she had pushed and screamed the same as any other mother had. Her entire being felt empty. Her family gone, her second child dead, and her husband's infidelity prostrate between them.
Jaime's body tensed at her plea. She could feel it next to her. She tried to summon more words, something, anything, to explain how she felt, the utter bereavement of not only her child's presence but also the safety of her little world at Casterly Rock, but nothing came out. The bed dipped and then straightened, signaling his exit. She heard the door click softly, and the breath she'd been holding escaped from her lungs in a short exhale. Without noticing, her soft breathing turned to quiet tears and she looked back out to the sun.
There was no straightforward answer for what she could do next. There were no options. Dismay and fear ate at her from her husband's easy retreat. Jaime normally rose to any bait, not shrunk from it. Further confirmation of his guilt, a voice whispered, and she tried to turn onto her side as if to escape her own thoughts, gasping at the pain that shot through her. She held still for a moment, letting the shocks dissipate, and then she threw back the covers and forced her legs to swing over the side of their bed. Fire spread throughout her, as if her very blood was the source of her agony. She pushed her feet to the floor and stood, gasping aloud. Her tears had dried in place of her moans of pain. She could handle this pain. She stepped frailly, half an inch, ignoring the cramping of her abdomen. She felt the dried blood on her, and stepped again, reaching for the pitcher on the shelf near the window. Her foot caught on the stone floor and she fell hard onto the ground, knocking the pitcher and basin down with a crash. She heard the door swing open and steps echo in the room. Maester Culwin lifted her from the ground slowly and set her to rights back onto the bed. His face was entirely devoid of the dislike she had come to associate with him, but instead was filled with such a pity that she turned away from. He handed her a glass of liquid with colors of black and grey that swirled together at the top.
"This will help you," he told her not unkindly. She took the glass and looked up at him again. He sighed softly, "Most women lose a child, my lady. It is a harsh truth of life that I've never wanted to face. In my training at the Citadel, they tell you that one out of every three complicated births that Maesters attend will result in a death. I am just relieved it was not yours, Lady."
A thought struck her and Merilyn stared at him for a moment, "Were you in attending at Lady Joanna's final birth?"
He broke her gaze and motioned for her to drink her glass then sighed again, "I was called in too late. The midwife expected it to be like her first children's birth and when complications arose, there was nothing I could further do. Lady Joanna was an exceptional woman."
Merilyn's head felt light as the drugs he had given her set into effect. She imagined a beautiful woman with Jaime's golden hair and green eyes who was described to have brought a softness and kindness to Tywin Lannister, and thought of the sadness she left that permeated this household. How would such a woman counsel Merilyn now if she knew everything? The edges of Merilyn's vision blurred and she felt weightless for the first time in weeks. The last thought as she succumbed to drugged sleep was to wonder if her husband and his mother had been alike at all.
She wasn't sure how many days had passed. She had left her room on what she thought was the second day, but she still asked Maester Culwin for his medicine after and that tended to cloud her ability to remember. He grew reticent to give the powder to her, she could tell and she suspected he had informed Jaime that she was consuming it regularly, but he had yet to deny her.
Jaime hadn't come to her, nor had she confronted him in as many days as she had been walking. They circled and avoided one another like dogs biding their time before a fight. She would see him in the halls and turn in the other direction or he would catch her eye while outdoors and act as if she didn't exist.
She was miserable, yet unwilling or unable to change. She did not know the difference. She knew he was sleeping elsewhere, though not the particulars. She almost asked Willas to divulge and then shrugged the impulse off. The urge to seek him out at night was the worst. She craved him, yet loathed him and the simultaneous feeling of the two made her skin crawl. When she had first married him, she had no name for what she felt, curiosity, fear even maybe, but she neither hated him nor her situation. She looked upon him as if he was a victim, just the same as she, of games bigger than either of them. As if they were equal in their luck.
Now though, she despised him in the same breath that she loved him. He forced her into a corner and gave her no escape and they both knew it. As soon as she had thrown the barb about comforting Cersei, they had both become acutely aware of the others' knowledge.
She stepped onto the beach, with Willas trailing closely behind. The secluded area had become her safe haven, the glass palace now a feared shared ground. Silently, she toed off her shoes and settled her feet into the warm sand. The salty wind blew her hair around her face and she inhaled deeply, as if air was scarce. Her husband had thrown himself into the work of running the household, using the excuse of her needing rest before she resumed them. Merilyn wondered why he didn't just leave for Lannisport or, she thought bitterly, King's Landing. A part of her was secretly relieved that he hadn't left, for it she thought it might mean he wouldn't seek out Cersei again. Another part of her worried that he only stayed to make certain she wouldn't disclose his secret to anyone.
She felt constantly torn since she had left her room. She had written nearly twenty letters to Robb, and shredded all shortly after their creation, finding it impossible to put to words what she experienced.
"My lady?" Willas called from a few feet back on the rocky shore line. Even though he was a Southern native, he seemed to prefer not to ever touch the sand.
She inclined her head in his direction to indicate she was listening.
"My lady," he said more forcefully.
"I'm listening, Willas," she snapped, still looking out towards the ocean.
"Merilyn."
She froze, knowing it wasn't Willas' voice speaking anymore. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the knight's form walking back up the slope away from them. She waited, hoping maybe if she didn't respond Jaime would leave, too.
"You'll have to talk to me at some point," his sardonic voice broke through her hope.
She whirled around, noting her husband wearing the expressionless face from their newlywed days. He was leaning back against the rockface, arms crossed loosely.
"What do you want?" She turned back to the waves, stepping even closer to let them wash over her toes.
"I wonder if we might have a civilized conversation where you look at me directly."
She waited a moment as if she were thinking about it, "No. I don't think so."
He chuckled breathily, "even when you're completely infuriating, I find you pleasing."
"What do you want, Ser?" She spat the final word as if it was distasteful.
"Merilyn, stop acting like a child throwing a tantrum," his voice was harsher.
"Don't. You. Dare." She hissed, whirling around to face him, "don't you dare insinuate that I'm a child because I won't crawl back into your bed after finding out about your clandestine affair. You may think you can do anything you please because you just don't care, but there are always consequences. And I am justified in my feelings."
"If I remember rightly, it's my bed that I've been barred from, not you from mine."
"Then have your bed back and I'll sleep in my sisters' old rooms," she spoke lightly as if they were discussing the dinner menu.
"Merilyn, how did it happen?"
She paused and took a deep breath, "how did what happen?"
"You very closely came to accusing me of something last week. Naturally, I wonder if you have proof or were falling into the natural habit of women's gossip." He stepped towards her until he was only a pace away from her. She could smell his sweat and natural scent, and she forcibly stopped herself from stepping into him. She wanted him to hold her all the while she wanted to hit him.
As she thought over his words, she felt crushed. He was trying to locate the source of the information, not for the purpose of mending anything between them, but to make certain no one else gained it. She did step forward then, reaching into her pocket and shoving the crumpled letter, the letter she had cried too many times over, into his hand violently.
She then stepped past him and fled up the rocky path back to the castle she was learning to hate.
When Jaime Lannister went over his life in his head, he couldn't pick one singular sin that was the worst. He'd committed many and most without any regret. But the last year and a half stood out strongly in the forefront of the list. As he stood on the recently vacated shore, holding a note with his twin sister's handwriting, he felt he could make a strong argument as to why the last year and a half of his life had gone to complete shit.
He had broken more vows in his life than he dared count, again most without regret. He hadn't asked for her, hell, he had argued strongly against such a match, any match at all really. He'd been content without her for many fucking namedays and he'd never once thought his life could be improved by marriage. He'd loved one woman for too many years to think anyone could replace her.
And, yet, with all of that, the only thing Jaime wanted now was Merilyn's forgiveness. He had wanted it from the moment she had brought Cersei's name into their bed. The blame lay at his own feet, though he felt irrational anger at Merilyn for uncovering his secret.
He'd thought she might come to him first. He'd tried waiting until she did. And then Culwin had confessed he'd given her tears of the poppy. Whether fear or anger motivated him, he decided confrontation was the better option to her dying of overdosing in her journey to escape.
Then he'd gone and fucked up that confrontation, too. He glanced down at the letter in his hand and wondered half-heartedly if he should even read it. Footsteps loosed small rocks that clattered down the path and he looked up at the form of his windswept wife who was furiously racing down towards him. She stopped a few paces away from him, heaving chest and furious eyes.
"How could you think of getting away with it?"
Immediately defensive, he crossed her arms, "Away with what exactly?"
"Cersei," she stated the name flatly.
"You'll have to be more specific." Why the fuck he was trying to drag it out of her, he had no idea. It was almost as if he was hoping it wasn't what he thought it was.
"You want me to be more specific?" She hissed lowly," Fine. How could you think you would get away with fucking. your. sister. Cersei."
There it was laid out plainly. She knew and he had no idea how to fix it.
"Obviously, it wasn't the best laid plan."
"You want to be flippant over this?" He could see her hands clench and unclench in rhythm.
He shrugged, "What do you want?"
She froze, her hands settling on clenched at her side. She glanced at anywhere but him, and with a deepening feeling of guilt, he saw her eyes fill with tears.
He reached out to her, "Merilyn..."
She started violently and stepped out of his reach, "Don't fucking touch me."
He grabbed her upper arm tightly, "Listen to me, I can't give you explanations. There aren't any logical ones."
She tried to wrench her arm from him, but failed, "She's your sister."
"And up until a year and a half ago, it didn't fucking matter for me."
"Setting aside the entire argument of morals, I'm well aware it was less than a year and a half ago. You can't even admit it without lying."
"The letter says nothing of a timeline. For all you know, it ended before I was let from the Kingsguard." He let his grip of her arm go.
"So look me in the eye and tell me it ended before you married me." She looked at him squarely, daring him.
He hesitated a moment, thinking of all the times lying had saved him. He was proficient at it. He could lie to her now.
"It didn't," he breathed out.
She blanched, and then nodded slowly. She took a deep breath and exhaled, turning back towards the path she came down.
"Merilyn," he voice was pleading and he hated it.
She stopped and shook her head, not looking back. Anger rolled through him and he stepped towards her and turned her to face him.
"If I told you I was sorry, I'd be lying. She was all I'd known of women. We were closer than is possible to explain."
"I'm close to Robb and I never fell into bed with him," she interrupted.
" We grew up with only each other. You have a fucking large family and attentive parents. Comparing the two is ludicrous."
She laughed humorlessly, "this entire thing is ludicrous."
"Merilyn, I'm not asking you to understand."
"You're just asking me to what? Forget it? Forgive it?"
"Seven damn it. What does it matter? It's come to an end. There's nothing more to discuss."
Her demeanor changed instantly. The anger disappeared, buried behind her blank stare, and she nodded courteously, "of course."
She turned again and headed for the path. Frustrated he pushed her against the rock wall nearest to them and kissed her hard. There was none of their gentle affection shared. He was furious. When the fuck had his life become so complicated?
When he had forced his mouth upon hers, she remained motionless for a moment, before some thought of hers spurred her to action. She surged into him with as much force as he had began it with. Her hands reached into his hair and gripped tightly, borderline painful. Jaime could feel her anger and pain through her kiss. He ground himself into her hips and his fingers dug into her back, leaving what he was sure would be marks.
She pushed her hands up the back of his shirt and raked her nails down, opening his skin. His brain was frantically trying to stop him, knowing no good would come of this. Instead of stopping or slowly, he groaned as he ground harshly against her and dropped his mouth to her neck, where he bit. She cried and panted in one breath. Jaime wanted her so badly. He moved his hand up to cup a breast and twisted the fabric away from her chest. He could hear the waves crash upon the shore, almost in time with their panting breaths. He bit her neck again and then twisted her around to face the rock wall, hiking her dress up in one motion. She said something angrily, but he couldn't hear over the rushing of the blood in his head. He didn't feel her resisting, so he reached and pulled himself out of his trousers. Messily fumbling, he shoved himself inside of her and heard her exclaim in pain.
"Tell me to stop," he panted, holding himself still.
"Fuck me." She bit out, eyes clenched shut.
He frantically lurched forward, starting an irregular thrusting. He thought, too late, that he hadn't thought of her enjoying it all, but closed his eyes as he felt the familiar pressure build. He nearly collapsed on her as he finished. They were still for nearly four heartbeats before she pushed him away from her and righted her clothing. Without a word, she walked away from him and back towards their home.
Jaime fixed his clothing and pushed his hand against the rocks, frustrated. He had no idea what the fuck had just happened and he hated that more than the desperate pleading he had heard from himself earlier.
That night, instead of going to the empty room he'd been sleeping in, he returned to his bedroom. Merilyn was already asleep, her slip riding up the visible thigh that had been thrown over the top of the cover. Her sleep was so deep, he suspected she had taken more of Maester Culwin's tea. He leaned close to her face and smelled the sweet scent of poppy and knew she was under a deeper influence than he could fight. He undressed and climbed into the bed of which he had grown very fond. Throwing caution to the wind and knowing she wouldn't awaken for anything, he pulled her to him and fell into a light sleep entwined with his wife.
The morning light spilled into the room and alighted Merilyn's face, waking her up gently. She felt the groggy after-effect of the drug she had taken last night and moving slightly, she felt the ache between her legs from what had happened down at the beach. The moment she had walked away from him, she had refused to examine what it meant and instead retired early with the dreamless effect of opium. She shoved the thought of their fight and culminating sex out of her mind. She stretched in the bed and her hand made contact with skin. She startled and looked to her left. Jaime lay still sleeping in their bed.
Anger flooded her, then confusion crept in, finally sadness reigned and she sighed. She couldn't decipher her feelings and their conversation yesterday hadn't helped much at all. She remembered his voice when he called her name. She imagined that there was pleading of some kind, and wondered idly if that meant he did want her. She replayed the sex and wondered if it was some kind of replacement for the gently and loving moments that she had grown accustomed to. A part of her had enjoyed the aggressive and angry tone of the quick coupling, but it had left her empty more than anything else.
Jaime stirred lightly and Merilyn quietly slipped out of the bed, not wanting to have any conversation with him this morning. She dressed and softly exited the room. Directionless, she wandered. She had no great desire to oversee any of her normal responsibilities, instead she entered the looming room where several of the maids were sitting and chatting happily. Matilde sat near the middle, dangling her baby on her knee. At Merilyn's entrance, the room fell silent. She felt awkward, but she took a few steps in anyway.
"My lady!" Leila called to her, "did you need something?"
She shook her head silently and waved her hand for them to continue their activities. She took another few steps in until she was on the outskirts of the circle of women. She was darting glances at the little boy smiling in his mother's arms. Matilde saw her and smiled up.
"Would you like to hold him, my lady?" She offered the baby up.
Merilyn hesitated only a moment, then she smiled back and took the offered baby. He was a cheerful babe, giggling at the exchange. She inhaled his sweet scent and stroked his tiny fingers slowly. She was so absorbed with the little one, that she didn't notice the room fall silent again until she heard Jaime's voice come from the doorway.
"Lady Lannister?" He inquired tonelessly.
She looked down at the fair baby in her arms and reluctantly handed him back to his mother. Her arms felt bereft and she walked towards Jaime, trying not to think too hard about how her first baby would've been about the same age.
They exited the room and walked down the hallway a few steps to make sure they were out of the servants' hearing. She looked at him expectantly.
"We need to talk," he started impatiently.
"Yesterday, there was nothing more to say. I have no control or claim over you."
He scoffed, "You have no claim? Is that what you think?"
"You made that clear on the shore yesterday." She looked away from him, intently staring down the hall at nothing.
"Merilyn," he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "I didn't mean it the way you've taken it. I have no idea what to do."
She didn't want to hear anything more, "Ser, I think we should talk about the party that should be arriving in a few days."
He started visibly, "What party?"
She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice, "Did you not read your letter?"
"I was sufficiently disctracted by a chit of a girl coming back and demanding an explanation."
She blinked once and then said blankly, "When your father returns, your sister is visiting for an unspecified amount of time. You have much to discuss regarding Arryn and she misses you in her bed."
He flinched and took a deep breath, "It's been done for a long time, I swear to you. She must've thought you would get ahold of it and wanted to dig a knife in."
She shrugged, "We have to figure out how many rooms we need to let and how much food we'll need to have in advance. We're to expect them soon."
She turned and walked away, knowing there was nothing more she could say and still remain collected. The day passed in a blur. She heard that her siblings had arrived safely and she felt minute relief before the heaviness settled back on her shoulders. Luna followed her into the bedroom at the end of the day. The bath had been prepared at her request and she sunk down slowly, groaning at sharp pain between her legs. She picked up the cup that her tea prepared, but stopped when Jaime entered the room.
"Enough of it. You can be furious with me, that's understandable. But I've seen men and women alike wither away when they can't break away from milk of the poppy."
He reached out a hand to take the cup from her. She paused a moment and then stared directly at him and downed the drink. His face was expressionless, but he turned back to the bed and began to strip.
"I thought you were sleeping elsewhere," Merilyn wondered aloud.
"It's my room." He stated frankly.
"I'll sleep in the empty one at the end -."
"No, you won't."
She looked up in surprise. He wasn't looking at her, but she knew he could tell she was watching him.
"We're married," he continued, "and as such, we will both continue to share this room and this bed. Do not make me hunt you down and do not think I will be persuaded on this matter."
He said nothing else but patted Luna once and then got into bed, leaving Merilyn sitting in her now tepid bathwater.
Her chest ached as she watched him from the corner of her eye. She wanted desperately to crawl into bed with him and force him to hold her while they both slept. She wanted to forget everything that had happened in the last few weeks. She wanted to daydream about a baby with his eyes and her hair, and imagine them walking along the beach the three of them together. She wanted to laugh again at his teasing and hope that their friendship would turn into romance. She loved him and she desperately wanted him to love her.
Looking down at Luna laying next to their bed, she wondered if her mother felt betrayed the same way Merilyn did. She always thought her parents had been happy and in love. They certainly never showed anything to contradict that idea. A wave of homesickness washed over her. What she wouldn't give to be home right now.
She straightened in the tub and thought about it more. Why couldn't she go home? She promised her younger siblings that she would visit shortly after they left. She could take Leila and Willas and make the journey. She doubted Jaime would give her permission, but then with the visitors that were coming shortly, it would be easy to slip out amongst the chaos. She thought hard about details and decided she would attempt it at the very least. Peace washed over her as she stepped out of her bath and slipped into the bed. She resisted every urge to cling to her husband and instead wrapped her arms around herself and thought hard of her home in the North.