Author's Note: Thanks for the great reviews! Here's the next chapter as promised. I've always toyed with the idea of doing a drinking scene with Amarah and Jaime so that's what I worked into this chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

They had been traveling for almost three whole days without incident. After they had traveled as far as possible on the river, Amarah had decided they would procure some horses. Since she had a supply golden dragons with her, it was no great hardship finding a set of horses for sale. The difficulty came in avoiding questions about why there were two women traveling alone with a male prisoner. However, Amarah seemed to possess an uncanny ability to talk circles around others, so Jaime was able to remain anonymous. They left the inn where they had secured the needed horses and continued on their way. Jaime would have liked to have the luxury of sleeping in a real bed, but understood why they had to keep moving. He would not have agreed any way with the decision to stay at the inn if it had been made, but Amarah was intelligent enough to decipher that necessity on her own.

Jaime looked at the young princess who rode beside him as they cantered along under the canopy of the woodland trees. The fading sunlight filtered through the overhead branches playing across her in a cheerful, dancing pattern that illuminated her lovely face. Her black hair had been pulled into some sort of haphazard braid that released soft tendrils floating around her head in the slight breeze. Because none of them had experienced a proper washing since this journey began, her beautiful face was streaked in a few places with dirt and grime. He had heard her complaining to Brienne that morning that she was going to bathe in the freezing river whether the wench liked it or not. She was tired of smelling like a horse. Brienne had replied that no one would appreciate the effort except for the horses which she was so determined not to smell like. She had muttered four very choice words at Brienne's response but decided to forgo the bath. Jaime decided it wouldn't have done her much good anyway as the river was probably dirtier than all three of them.

She had not spoken a word to him outside of absolute necessity ever since their heated conversation two days before. She didn't seem particularly angry. In fact, she had seemed almost gleeful at first. Jaime assumed her joy stemmed from the fact that she thought he had given some credence to her lies about his sister. He understood why she had said them. He had said some rather terrible things to her about Robb Stark and she had spoken those lies to shut him up. If that had been her strategy it worked most admirably. Though Jaime didn't believe her, the words still played over and over in his mind covering it with the dark shadow of doubt. She's probably had more men through her legs than the doorway of Littlefinger's brothel he heard Amarah's scornful tone. He had tried to block out the unwelcome image that sprung to mind of Cersei with their little shit cousin Lancel. That boy was no knight and would probably never be. He was weak and Cersei could not abide weakness. Not in herself and not in others. That was why he refused to believe Amarah's lies. At least that was what he tried to convince himself of. He determinedly pushed thoughts of Cersei and her alleged faithlessness from his head. Amarah wanted him to have these doubts, and he would not let her win. He would stay true to his sister as she was to him.

Hours after the sun had sunk over the tree tops, they stopped to rest for the night. The massive creature came over to pull him roughly off of his horse. He still didn't fear the wench but he had been instilled with a mild amount of respect for her after he had seen her dispose of three Stark soldiers two days ago. They had taken a moment to bank the boat on the river when three soldiers had appeared unexpectedly. Jaime had demanded for Amarah to release him from his bonds but she had only treated his pleas with cold silence. Jaime had been ready to blister the girl's ears for her stupidity when Brienne promptly dispatched all three soldiers without batting an eye. Jaime still remembered the smug look Amarah had shot him afterward. He held back his own smile of admiration until both women's gazes were elsewhere. Since then, he had tried to behave a bit more respectably to the wench. Not much of course, but a bit.

Brienne marched him over to a tree as per her usual ritual before tying him up. She and Amarah both took care of putting down the horses for the night. Jaime was not tired enough yet to sleep so he just watched them with a bored expression while they worked. He wondered how long it would be before Amarah discovered what he had placed in her saddlebag. He had only just managed to slip it in before the wench had tossed him atop his horse that morning.

"You need to sleep, Brienne" he heard Amarah instruct her bodyguard. Brienne must have muttered some type of protest that Jaime could not make out. "No, I insist" Amarah continued in that tone of voice that indicated she would get her way. "If anything happens I'll be sure to wake you."

Brienne seemed to finally relent and walked small distance from Amarah and Jaime before squatting down with her back resting against a tree and her rough cloak drawn over her massive shoulders. Her soft snores indicated that she was asleep within moments. Jaime moved his gaze from the sleeping wench to look back where Amarah stood a few feet in front of him still attending to her horse. She seemed to be unaware of his gaze as she softly nuzzled the animal's nose with her delicate hands and whispered soothing words in its ears. Jaime was a bit taken aback by this gentle side of her nature. At times he had wondered if she had any other expressions besides a scowl and mischievous smile. Apparently she did, but those kinder smiles were reserved only for horses.

"What is this?" he heard her ask a few moments later. Ah, so she had finally found it. She turned to him with one brow raised in silent query as she held the jug of wine in her hand.

He gave her his most charming smile. "Something I procured from our kind hostess at the inn?"

"And how did you procure it?" she asked with a skeptical frown.

"I can be very persuasive."

"Seven hells!" she muttered in an irritated huff. "You threatened to kill her."

"Not kill her precisely" he hedged. "But she was most accommodating."

Amarah rolled her eyes at his predictability. "And what do you plan to do with it?"

"Well drink it of course" he said. As if there had been any other possibility. "You're welcome to join me, Princess."

Her gaze turned hard at his invitation. "I don't drink wine."

"Not even this once?" he questioned her. He didn't ask the reason for her hesitancy. He didn't have to. If his father had guzzled wine like Robert Baratheon, he would have no fondness for the drink either. "It will be our secret, Princess. You know how good I am at keeping those."

"Is this your idea of being persuasive?" she asked with a faint smile.

He gave a self-deprecating sigh before answering. "Now you see why I must resort to violence to get what I want." She gave an amused laugh at his confession; it was a surprisingly pleasant sound. He had never heard her laugh like that before. She still hesitated though, so he continued to badger her. He wouldn't have bothered, but for some reason he never liked to drink alone. "Come now. What's the harm in having a drink with me? I can't do you any harm like this" he told her raising his tethered hands as evidence. "And besides, there's not actually enough wine in the jug to make us both drunk."

She looked at the wine in her hands to test the truth of his statement. It was a rather small jug. Her gaze moved back to him and he could see the surrender there. Giving a bemused shake of her head, Amarah reached into the saddle bag once more to remove the two small, wooden cups he had also managed to swindle that morning from their gracious hostess. Thankfully, she didn't ask what he had done to get those as well. She then came and sat next to him, sinking gently onto the leafy ground. They both remained silent as she poured him some wine before doing the same for herself. He raised his to her in a mock toast before tossing the whole cupful into his mouth and swallowing. It was a bit sour, but he had drunk worse. Amarah just sat staring into her cup without moving to drink it. Finally, she scrunched up her delicate nose in anticipation of the unpleasant taste before taking a sip.

"Ugh, that's vile!" she complained after tasting the brew. Jaime supposed it was rather a required taste, but he didn't mind.

"You'll get used to it" he shrugged off her concerns before holding out his cup for her to refill it.

She obliged his silent request before eying him with a confused look. "I never took you for a man who indulged in wine."

"I never indulge" he defended himself before drinking his serving more slowly this time. "But most men like to drink. It's natural I suppose, but I never drink enough to slow my wits."

"If only my father had felt the same." She had whispered that last remark so quietly Jaime almost didn't hear her. He looked back to see her looking off into the distance with a sad expression on her pretty face. He didn't like seeing her like that. She might drive him to madness sometimes with her penchant for jabbing at him with her sharp words, but he admired her spirit. He much preferred to see her determined than sad.

"He was a great warrior once" Jaime offered to try and rid her face of that mournful expression.

His tactic seemed to work for she looked back at him with a wry smile. "So I have been told. Unfortunately, I have no memory of that man."

"Did you love him?" The question had come out of Jaime's mouth before he realized he was asking it. He didn't know why he had asked it since they never discussed anything of a personal nature if it wasn't for the purpose of insulting the other person, but he was in a strange mood. Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was his weary state. But whatever the reason, he wanted her to give him a glimpse of what went on behind that emotionless mask of hers.

She regarded him with an unreadable expression for a few moments before finally replying. "I would wager I loved him as much as you love your father."

It wasn't much of an answer, but it was something. "You think I love my father, Princess?"

She shrugged her delicate shoulders in response. "Perhaps. I don't know you well enough to say. If anyone could love Tywin Lannister though I suspect it would be his own family."

Jaime thought for a moment about his father. He was a cold, calculating man, and he always put his family honor before all else. Even if it was at the expense of his children. Tywin Lannsiter had taught Jaime how to be a man and how to command respect from those around him. Jaime didn't know if he loved him precisely, but he respected him. He knew his father would prefer respect over love. He admitted that last part of his thoughts out loud.

"That does not surprise me" Amarah said thoughtfully. "Your father is the most frightening man I've ever laid eyes on." Jaime didn't think she had come into contact with his father a great number of times since Tywin had spent most of the last nine years at their family seat of Casterly Rock. However, one didn't need to meet Tywin Lannister more than once to receive a lasting impression.

"Yes" Jaime said with a fond smile. "He does inspire a great deal of fear in others. Even smart-mouthed princesses."

She gave him a scowl at that last comment, but she seemed more amused than angry. "I heard it said that he actually smiled on his wedding day. A rare occurrence never to be repeated."

"I've heard that said as well" Jaime answered thinking of his mother's smiling face. She had been a good, kind woman. The only person in the kingdoms who could make a fearsome man like Tywin Lannister smile. "I wasn't there to see it of course. I've never seen my father smile. He demands the respect of his friends and enemies alike. I was always supposed to be like him."

Amarah took another small sip of her wine while she thought over what he had just said. Apparently the taste of the drink agreed more with her now. Her cup was almost empty. "Is that why it bothers you so? The things people whisper behind your back. The disrespect they show to your face."

"You seem to be the only one who constantly says those things to my face."

She ignored his attempt at humor. "You pretend like it doesn't matter to you what people say, but it does."

"And how do you determine that?" he asked with a fierce frown. He didn't like the way she was looking at him almost sympathetically. He decided he preferred her scorn to the faint pity he now saw in her eyes.

She gave a small smile at his dark expression. "Because whenever anyone calls you 'Kingslayer' you get an angry tick in your jaw right there." She reached towards his face and extended two fingers to touch the slight indentation between his jaw and neck. "Kingslayer" she said quickly before he could stop the habitual grind of his teeth at that title which caused the spot under her fingers to twitch ever so slightly.

She didn't remove her hand immediately but gave him a triumphant grin as if she had just won an important point in their constant battle of wits. Well maybe it did bother him the things people said, but only because he didn't deserve their scorn. He had done many wicked things in his life he would readily admit, but he didn't consider killing the mad king to be one of them. But he would be damned before he would defend his actions to anyone, even the girl beside him. So he remained stubbornly silent.

Chuckling softly at his expression, Amarah slowly ran her two fingers down the hard line of his jaw before removing them. As the soft pads of her fingers brushed gently over the bearded stubble of his jaw, he felt his breath catch in his throat. It felt as if his skin was on fire where she touched him. Obviously she felt it as well since she hastily removed her hand. It appeared from her sudden reluctance to meet his gaze, she had not been aware of what she was doing before that unexpected moment of realization between them both. Self-consciously she gestured to the now empty jug in her hands. They had drunk all the wine during their conversation without even realizing it.

"It's empty" she stated the obvious during the awkward silence that ensued. The sudden awareness between them must have been uncomfortable for her as it was for him. Jaime decided it would be a wise course of action in the future to never suggest again that she have a drink with him.

"We should sleep" Amarah spoke again to fill the silence.

Jaime hastily nodded his head in agreement before promptly closing his eyes and reclining his head against the scratchy bark of the tree. He didn't hear Amarah say anything else but caught the sound her rustling around as she tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in. She always fidgeted a good deal trying to make herself comfortable before drifting off to sleep. Instantly uncomfortable with that knowledge of her personal habits, Jaime squeezed his eyelids together tightly, willing sleep to come. Finally he felt himself drifting into the welcoming darkness of slumber. As he succumbed to sleep he tried to imagine Cersei's eyes watching him, loving him. But all he could seem to conjure up were a pair of shrewd, gray eyes instead.

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