Author's Note: Thanks again for reviewing! I really appreciate it. Here's another chapter. The updates will be pretty frequent for the first several chapters since I've already finished those. This one takes a lot of dialogue from the show which isn't the usual case for my chapters, but it was SUCH a great scene for Jaime and the King I had to work it into the story. Feel free to share any thoughts! Thanks
The city rang with noises of merriment and trade while Amarah looked bleakly on from the ledge of her bedchamber window. The trip from Winterfell had left her mentally and emotionally drained, and the fact that Ned had been forced to kill Sansa's pet had left her more shaken than she had realized at the time.
She had never known her father to be so unjust. A person with any sense at all could have seen that Joffrey lied about the wolf's attack, but her father had turned a blind eye and ordered the death of an innocent animal. Sansa's silence had cost her dearly, but the King never should have allowed it.
When Amarah had first come to King's Landing those nine years ago, she never could have anticipated what corruption lay before her. Instead of a wise, powerful king and loving father she had found a drunken fool who whored his days away rather than ruling his kingdom as it should be. And instead of a family, she found herself in a den of lions ready to pounce at any moment. And none more ready than the queen lioness herself.
Amarah had never understood Cersei's hatred towards her. She assumed that any competition was unwelcome to a woman as vain and selfish as Cersei, but her hatred went beyond pure jealousy. Amarah had been so disgusted by the queen's behavior that she had once considered debasing herself in the lowest way possible just to tear the vicious bitch's heart out, but in the end, nothing could induce her to stoop as low as that.
So she learned to bear it all. The cutting remarks, cruel whispers, and outright hatred. She had erected a wall so high and thick about herself that the whole of the Lannister army could not penetrate that last defense. Things were all so much easier to bear when one could feel nothing at all, or at least when the whole world seemed to think one feels nothing at all.
When it is believed that one's heart is as cold as ice and just as hard, people cease trying to place cracks in it and move on with their insignificant, menial existences. The face Amarah Baratheon wore before the entire world was a mask of her own making. The one she had crafted in order to survive and one her very existence depended on.
As she sat above the keep, looking at her father's kingdom, she felt empty inside. A dull, leaden feeling that had begun to grow since her first day in the capital. She fought daily against the forces that threatened to rid her of all humanity, her sentiment for human life. But she felt much like a drowning sailor, swept away by the tide with no mooring to cling to. Her uncle and cousins' presence in King's Landing cheered her somewhat, but she knew that until she left this city, she would never truly be whole.
"My lady" came a shy, tentative voice from the doorway of her chamber which she had left open to circulate the cool breeze. "Your father requests your presence in his chambers."
"Thank you, Pod" she replied with a small smile. "I shall come immediately."
"Yes, my lady" he said with a shallow dip of his head. "I can escort you if you wish it."
"Why I believe I shall" she replied with a grand sweep of her arm. "Lead the way Ser Payne."
Podrick Payne was no Ser or even a person of high rank; he had been her father's steward for some time until Lancel Lannister had been brought in to serve the king. Now Podrick was used where he was needed. He never said much, but Amarah liked him all the better for it.
It was a silent march to her father's chambers. Amarah appreciated the quiet as she tried to gather her thoughts. Neither she nor her father had spoken since the incident with the wolf, and although he must have suspected her feelings toward the matter, neither had spoken their thoughts aloud. She was perfectly content to leave things as they were.
Her father requested her presence regularly to sit with him, although they almost never said anything of significance. He was simply content to carry on bawdy conversations with his guards while she silently watched on. Her calm presence seemed to soothe her father in his more restless hours and her visits had increased over the past years.
As they approached the king's chamber, she saw Jaime Lannister standing watch at the door. His noble stance was sure and proud, but she could see the discontent in his eyes. How demeaning it must be to serve as a glorified body guard to a useless king, and a fat, drunk one at that. She almost felt pity for him. Almost.
"My father wished to see me."
"Yes, my Lady" he said swiftly moving aside.
She swept past him with a regal nod of her head before entering her father's domain. Jaime looked momentarily unnerved at her polite behavior before restoring his soldierly demeanor. It was not often that Amarah passed up the opportunity to taunt the Lion of Lannister, but today she could not find the strength to care.
"Do you remember your first?" she heard her father ask of Ser Barristan Selmy as she entered. One of her father's fondest pastimes was reliving his glory days of the war. She found it no surprise he wished to relive the time of his first kill. The rush it brings as the deed is done and the feeling of power after ending one's life. That was a feeling her father found more powerful than any other. She did not share his opinion on the subject.
Both men glanced up as she entered the room, but neither spoke being accustomed to such interruptions. Gliding across the room she took her normal place facing her father's massive desk. Once she had been seated Ser Barristan commenced with his account.
"Of course, Your Grace" he replied.
"Who was it?" the King persisted.
"A Teroshee" he answered matter-of-factly, "never learnt the name."
Her father grunted in acknowledgement of that statement. "How did you do it?"
"Lance through the heart."
"Quick one" the King said with an approving nod. "Lucky for you. Mine was some Tarley boy at the Battle of Summer Hall. My horse took an arrow so I was on foot sluggin' through the mud. He came runnin' at me, this dumb, highborn lad, thinkin' he could end the rebellion with a single swing of his sword. I knocked him down with a hammer. Gods! I was strong then. Caved in his breastplate, probably shattered every rib he had. Stood over him, hammer in the air. Right before I brought it down over him, he shouted 'Wait! Wait!'."
He gave a rough laugh. There were a few moments of silence as they ruminated on all he had just said. After a few more moments, he commenced with his tale.
"They never tell you how they all shit themselves. They don't put that part in the songs. Stupid boy" he said with a sad shake of his head. "Now the Tarley's bend the knee like everyone else. He could have lingered on the edge of the battle with the smart boys and today his wife would 'of been makin' him miserable. His sons 'ould be ingrates and he'd be wakin' three times a night to piss into a bowl. Wine!"
Lancel Lannister seemed startled by his Lord's sudden request for spirits after his verbal musings on the perils of his life, but he finally managed to bring forward the pitcher of wine. If her father's story was any indication of his mood, he would most likely have the boy shaking in his boots before the glass of wine ran dry. As luck would have it, the pitcher was already empty with only a few drops leaking out into the king's goblet. Not seeming to notice at first, her father took the opportunity to harass the poor mite.
"Lancel" he said with palpable disgust. "Gods! What a stupid name. Lancel Lannister. Who named you? Some half-wit with a stutter" he finished, laughing at his own joke. Amarah would have smiled at her father's words if the poor boy hadn't looked so absolutely mortified. Deciding to spare his feelings, if he possessed any as Lannisters with human emotion were rare indeed, she maintained her stoic composure.
"What are you doin"?" the King asked, finally realizing his goblet was still devoid of wine.
"It's empty, Your Grace" he replied with a helpless gesture.
"What do you mean it's empty?" the King asked in a raised voice full of ire.
"There is no more wine" was all the reply he received. But really, Amarah thought, what other reply did he expect?
"Is that what empty means? Then get more." His harsh tone promised imminent retribution if his orders were not obeyed immediately.
Springing at once to do her father's bidding, Lancel turned at once to make a hasty retreat in the face of his King's displeasure. As he opened the door to leave, Amarah could see the back of Jaime Lannister guarding the chamber door.
"Tell your cousin to get in here" Robert demanded, seeing the opportunity to torment another Lannister. "Kingslayer!" he shouted. "Get in here."
With a longsuffering look, Jaime moved to do his Lord's bidding. It was obvious that he would have preferred to remain at the door, but when a king summoned, the subjects answered.
"Surrounded by Lannisters" Robert bemoaned aloud. "Everywhere I go I see their blond hair and their smug, satisfied faces. What of you my dear?" he said finally turning to Amarah. "How does the sight of the Lannisters not drive you to constant madness?"
"I was not the one who chose to marry into their house" she replied with cool dignity. Most might be afraid to address the King in such a manner, but she was not. As most people were unaware, her father appreciated the gumption is took to stand up to him. He might not have been imposing as he was many years ago, but his mean disposition and booming voice inspired enough fear to keep others in line. Amarah however, remained unaffected by his manner.
"Then it's a small wonder they haven't driven you to madness, my dear" the King replied before turning his sour expression back on the Kingslayer.
"Must wound your pride, standin' out there like a glorified sentry. Jaime Lannister, son of the mighty Tywin. Forced to mind the door while your King eats and drinks and shits and fucks." Amarah could see the Kingslayer's face flich ever so slightly at that last word. The one word that made obvious how his sister was dishonored daily by her husband.
Jaime said nothing however, and continued to maintain his silence. Seeing he would not be able to get a rise out of the Kingslayer, Robert returned to the topic at hand.
"So come on" he urged. "We're discussin' war stories. Who was your first kill not counting old men?"
"One of the outlaws in the Brotherhood" he replied quietly.
"I was there that day" Ser Barristan spoke recalling the event. "You were only a squire at the time, sixteen years old." The older man's pride was evident in the way he spoke. Jaime's face took on a softer expression at the old man's praise.
"You killed Simon Torin with a countery pass" Jaime mused with a fond expression, "best move I ever saw."
"Good fighter Torin" Ser Barristan recalled with a faint smile "but he lacked stamina."
Amarah found herself smiling at their memories of war and killing. A subject that would normally seem most gruesome, but their mutual respect of one another came across in the way they regarded each other's accomplishments. Much different to her father's own bitter musings of wars gone by and his strength with it.
"Your outlaw" the King interrupted their praise giving. "Any last words?"
"I cut his head off, so no." Jaime replied with a smug smile. At almost any other time, Amarah would have found Kingslayer's pride insufferable, but in the face of her father's displeasure she found it perversely amusing. Giving a burst of laughter at his reply she promptly restored her serene expression once the men's gazes all swung in her direction. But she thought she glimpsed something not entirely unpleasant in the Kingslayer's eyes before he withdrew his gaze.
"What about Arys Targaryen?" the King asked to further provoke his guard. "What did the mad king say before you stabbed him in the back? I never asked. Did he call you a traitor? Did he plead for a reprieve?"
The room was silent for a few moments after this query. Amarah turned her gaze toward the Kinglsayer's golden face as he contemplated the King's smug expression. With no change in expression whatsoever he gave his reply.
"He said the same thing he had been saying for hours. 'Burn them all.'"
Even her father was struck silent in the face of this admission. Jaime had never before discussed the circumstances of his betrayal, but Amarah had never suspected that he had done it out of any motive other than selfishness. His reply could have been to silence the King, or he could have been telling the truth. However, as he was a Lannister, she was inclined to believe the former.
"That's all your grace" he said in face of the King's silence. For several more moments, no one spoke a word.
"I think we've all heard enough of war stories for now" Amarah finally said breaking the silence. "I find the subject most unsettling."
After saying this she promptly rose to leave, finding that the air now reeked of masculine pride and competition. It was worse than watching a tournament with blood and bone flying in all directions. These hits were more precise. Scored with words rather than lances, and she wished to hear it no longer.
"I gave you no leave to go" her father said turning his frustration on her.
"I don't recall asking it" she replied in a frosty tone.
"You can't leave before telling us your own tale, my girl" he returned in a dangerously low voice. "Tell us about your first kill."
It took every ounce of her self control not to respond to her father's spiteful words. She thought her head might explode at the effort to maintain an unaffected expression while on the inside she was seething in anger and hurt. The incident her father referred to had been one she had made perfectly clear she would rather forget, but it appeared he was not prepared to do so.
Ser Barristan and Jaime Lannister turned to her with matching expressions of surprise and doubt. She regarded their faces a moment before telling her own tale.
"I was ten years old at the time; it happened after my father had summoned me to the capital. We traveled along the King's Road and stopped to set up camp along the way. One night, a beggar boy snuck into the camp and tried to steal a wheel of cheese from one of our wagons, my wagon. I was so frightened in those days, I slept with a dagger hidden under my pillow. The one Uncle Ned had given me before our departure to King's Landing. I heard a noise somewhere in the dark and swung blindly with my dagger. I pierced him right through the heart" she said with blunt clarity. As she recited the tale, again she could see his face in the light of the full moon. A face she had seen only too late after what had been done. His lifeless eyes staring up at her.
"He couldn't have been more than six years old" she said aloud more to herself than anyone else. "Only a child."
She could never forget seeing his face and the shock that had come over her. The guilt that haunted her from that day had never left her troubled mind. There were few things Amarah Baratheon regretted in life but killing that boy was one choice she would have sold her soul to the seven hells to go back and change. Only this time no amount of bartering could restore the life she had taken. "If you think that is something to be proud of" she said turning to her father, "then you are heartless fool as well as a drunken one."
Ser Barristan and Jaime looked a bit taken aback at her venomous words spoken in such a casual tone as if she were discussing the weather or how many chickens to buy at market. Her father however, just stared at her with an expression she had not seen in ages. Regret.
Without another word she turned to leave and Jaime moved to open the door for her departure. Turning to look at her father once more, she imagined she could almost see a glimmer of sadness in his eyes before she moved to leave. With that last glance at her father's sorrowful expression, she felt something she hadn't even thought possible that very morning. She felt the faint stirrings of hope.