Author's Note: Wow! Thanks for the wonderful reviews! That's definitely more than ten, so here's the next update. I'm really glad you all enjoy the story so much. I've had such fun writing it. Maybe that makes me sadistic since I've really put these characters through the wringer. I don't know… Anyway, there was no way I could write this fic and not include my absolute favorite scene from book three in some way. So here it is with my spin on it! And there's some heat in here to spice things up for ya just a bit:) (Warning: There is some adult content near the end of this chapter. So if that's not your thing, feel free to look away.) Enjoy!
Jaime received the summons his fourth day at Harrenhal. He had spent the first three days in the grip of a raging fever that had taken hold of him after the maester had sewed up his stump as he had requested. He didn't remember much from the three days other than the overwhelming pain. The temptation to give into the sickness and end his suffering had been great indeed, but he had managed to hold on.
He remembered hearing Amarah's voice calling to him through the darkness of death that threatened to enclose around him. Instead of saying soft, comforting words, she had been scolding him to stop giving into the pain. He needed to fight it instead. That was how he knew the voice belonged to Amarah. She had never been the type of woman to coddle or murmur soft words to soothe one's troubles, but Jaime didn't mind as he was not the type of man who liked to be pandered to. He suspected that if she had used any other approach, it would not have worked to bring him back from the darkness. Instead she challenged him to overcome it, and Jaime Lannister never shied away from a challenge. He had met the opponent of death head on, and he had defeated it.
On the fourth day, he finally opened his eyes to find the face of the old maester watching over him. The old man informed him that his fever had broken sometime in the night and he was quickly on the mend. Apparently Jaime had a stronger constitution than most. Jaime had asked him what had happened to the little dark-haired princess after he had lost consciousness three days ago. Qyburn told him that Amarah had not left his side once the fever took hold. Bolton's men had tried to convince her to leave, but she would not go until she was satisfied that he would survive. After his fever had broken, the old maester had finally convinced her that it would be safe for her to leave Jaime in his care. The old man had not seen her since.
He had already known from hearing her voice in his sleep that Amarah had been present while he lay in a fit of fever, but Jaime was surprised to see how far her care for him had extended. She had mentioned seeing him settled in the maester's chambers before she retired to her own, but he never expected her to stay with him for so long a time. When he saw her next, he would need to be sure to thank her. It wouldn't be an easy task as words of gratitude never fell from his lips with much ease, but he felt he owed it to her. He wasn't certain he could have endured the past three days if not for her presence by his side.
Jaime spent the remainder of the day recuperating in the maester's chambers, but once the sunlight vanished over the horizon, he felt as if he might go mad if he were not soon permitted to leave the small bed where he had spent the day. He had never enjoyed being idle. It agreed with some noblemen he supposed, but Jaime had always enjoyed being up and about no matter what the task. When the summons came from Roose Bolton that the Kingslayer was to dine with him that night, he did not attempt to refuse. He had no great desire to dine with the man, but it would be a welcome relief to see a sight other than the four stone walls that surrounded him in this small room, even if it was Roose Bolton's face.
Four soldiers had come to the maester's chambers to walk Jaime to the bathing house in order for him to clean himself before the dinner with Bolton. Jaime had not experienced a proper bath since before being taken captive by Robb Stark, so he had no doubt he smelled as wretched as he felt. The bathing house was fashioned after those of the free cities. It was a low-ceiling structure with several large baths full of steaming water that could accommodate at lease seven people at a time. When they arrived to the doors of the bath he found Brienne guarding them with a disgruntled look on her face.
No doubt her discomfort was partly due to the dress she now wore. After seeing her in the hideous, pink concoction, Jaime no longer wondered why she preferred chainmail and boiled leather. The dress was the largest one he had ever seen, but it still didn't fit her massive frame. Her arms were too long for the sleeves and the hem was several inches shorter than her tall legs. Several cruel jibes filled his head at the sight of her, but he decided for once to leave them unsaid. She looked angry enough all ready, and he did not want to add to her fury. He was no match for the wench now with only one hand.
When he moved to go inside, she blocked his progress with one of those long arms. "No one is to enter. My lady is bathing herself and she does not wish to be disturbed."
After the past several days of torture, Jaime's patience was virtually nonexistent. "Well I'm certainly in no position to accost her" he groused shoving his bandaged stump in her face. "So I'm going inside to wash several months' worth of dirt and filth off of my person, and unless you intend to finish the job the goat started, you can kindly get out of the way."
She eyed him warily for a few moments before finally relenting. "Very well, but they stay outside" she said gesturing to the soldiers who escorted him there.
"I had no great desire for their company in any case" he answered dismissively before she finally moved to allow him entrance.
Once Brienne closed the door behind him, Jaime took a moment for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dim lighting before spotting Amarah in the nearest tub with steaming water up to her chin. She was scrubbing away at her mass of black, curly hair with a bar of soap when she caught sight of him. She looked a bit startled at first, but when she saw who it was that had invaded her privacy, she relaxed just a bit. He noticed that she sunk a bit further down in the water to keep him from seeing anything, but she made no move to leave.
"I thought I told Brienne I didn't wish to be disturbed" she said with a confused look.
He gave her a wry smile in return. "And when have I ever paid much heed to your wishes or the wenches orders, Princess?"
Her confusion turned to faint amusement at his reply. "Yes, I suppose that is true."
"Not to worry" he assured her as he dropped the towel about his waist and joined her in the tub. He almost moaned in pleasure at the feel of the steaming water warming his skin, but he restrained the impulse. No need to let her misinterpret his pleasure at the welcoming heat of the water for something else. "I'm in no condition to make unwanted advances on you even if I was of a mind to do it. Which I'm not."
"Then why don't you find another bath which I'm not currently occupying?" she asked him with a wary gaze.
She had looked a bit surprised at first when he had casually revealed his nudity to her before sinking into the water. Now a faint blush stained her cheeks that he suspected was more the result of their current states of undress rather than the heat of the enclosed space.
He gave in to the nagging impulse to tease her a bit. "What's the matter, Princess? Does my nakedness make you uneasy?"
"I've already seen you naked" she quickly pointed out. "The maester had to exchange your rags for fresh clothes after you fainted, and he needed my help. I must say the sight was not a pleasant one. You looked almost as bad as Brienne, but she had more bruises. Though you're looking better now than when I left you."
Her words reminded Jaime of the gratitude he owed her. "Thank you for watching over me." He noticed that she looked more surprised by those unexpected words than his sudden appearance moments before. "I don't believe I would have awakened if not for your nagging voice pulling back into the land of the living."
That managed to gain another small smile from her. "You saved my life, so I helped encourage you to fight for yours. There's no need to thank me for it. Lannisters aren't the only ones who pay their debts."
"Nevertheless, I thank you" he repeated. "Those are not words I speak often, so enjoy them and accept the gratitude."
"Then you are welcome, Ser" she said with a theatrical wave of her hand and bowing her head as if in a mock curtsey to a handsome knight. He felt a small smile begin to grow on his face at her antics. The first real smile he had given since the incident with Hoat.
"Do you think we might call a truce between us now, Princess?" he asked her softly after she had gone still once again.
There was a beat of deafening silence as she considered his offer. "A truce between two people requires trust. Tell me. How can I trust you?"
He felt his earlier amusement quickly flee in the face of her question. No one would ever trust the Kingslayer he supposed. He looked down at the stump where his right hand used to reside. The hand he had used to kill the mad king. In one fell swoop the goat had rid him of the source of both his shame and triumph. He would be forever hated for the one selfless act of his life, and it made him angry. Since Amarah was the only one present, his anger went out to her in full force.
"My apologies, Princess" he replied in an acid tone. "How foolish of me to ever suggest you trust the Kingslayer who has shit for honor. I could of course never earn something as valuable as your precious trust."
She looked a bit irritated by his angry response, but kept her voice even when she answered back. "I wasn't making fun" she tried to persuade him of her sincerity. "It was an honest question. Tell my why I should trust you."
Jaime searched her eyes to discover a hint of the sarcasm or mockery that was so often present in her gaze when she looked at him, but he found none of those things there. He only saw honest curiosity reflected in her gray eyes. Her icy walls had somehow miraculously melted in the past few moments giving a true glimpse of the woman inside them. He saw the warm, caring woman who had held his hand while he tossed and turned in a fit of fever, but he also found the strong, courageous girl that had dared him to face death and defeat it. Maybe she did deserve to hear the truth about him. The worst that could happen was she would laugh in his face and denounce him as a liar, but that was no worse than the opinion she already had of him.
Taking a deep breath, he began the tale that he had never told another living soul. He told her of Aeyrs Targaryen's madness and how it grew each day that the rebellion, led her father Robert Baratheon, continued on. Aerys saw traitors everywhere he turned including Jaime's father, so he decided to burn the city down as retribution. His current Hand had asked, pleaded, and then begged for him to reconsider but had been burnt alive for his efforts before Aerys gave the man's chain to his favorite pyromancer. Through all this Jaime was forced to stand and watch it all as he protected his king and his secrets. He was the only member of the king's guard forced to stay with Aerys because the king did not trust his father. When Ned Stark begun traveling towards the capital to capture the throne for Robert's rule, Aerys had decided to put his plan into action. He had given Jaime instructions to carry the orders to his pyromancers to burn the city, but Jaime could protect him no longer. If he kept his vows, the entire city would be burned in their beds because of the whim of a mad king. Jaime had killed the man who witnessed the orders. Lord Rossart was his name.
"Then I slew Aerys, before he could find someone else to carry his message to the pyromancers" he said in a hollow voice as if reciting the events of a famed battle rather than the circumstances of his infamous betrayal. He went on to tell her about the others privy to the king's plan that he had hunted down to save the city. "Belis offered me gold, and Garigus wept for mercy. Well, a sword's more merciful than fire, but I don't think Garigus much appreciated the kindness I showed him."
After he had finished the tale he looked towards Amarah to see her reaction. He had recited the entire account while looking off into the distance as he recalled the events that he had pushed from his mind for years, choosing not to think about them. Choosing to forget about the night that had made him a traitor in the eyes of the realm. He didn't know why, but it was important that at least one person know the truth about him. For some reason he didn't care to analyze too closely, he wanted it to be her.
Once he had gone silent, Amarah just looked at him with a strange expression he could not interpret. She said nothing but continued to stare at him with a sharp gaze that made him feel as if she could see every secret he had hidden away over the years. He began to grow angry once again in the face of her silence. He had just bared his soul to her, and she had nothing to say. She only stared at him with that queer look in her gray eyes.
"What, Princess?" he sneered. "Nothing at all to say? Come now. Do something. Hit me, kiss me, or curse me, but do something."
His words seemed to snap her out of some sort of trance as she gave her head a small shake, and the queer look behind the cool gray of her eyes was replaced by one of faint amusement. Instead of speaking, she rose from her perch on the stone bench at the other end of the bath and began to walk slowly towards him. As she approached he suddenly realized why she had wished to bathe in peace. If any of the other soldiers in this keep saw her as she was now, she would never escape with her virtue in tact.
She glided towards him through the steaming water like some sort of beautiful water sprite. If the water sprite had been naked, of course. Her beautiful, black hair hung down almost to her waist and over her shoulders in long, damp tendrils while her wet, alabaster skin seemed to glow in the dim lights of the bath house. The beautiful skin was marred by a few faint bruises, but those only served as reminders of how delicately she was built. He tried to keep his eyes from her luscious breasts that were framed so perfectly by the silken strands of her hair, but he was only a man after all. He might be faithful to his sister, but he was far from perfect. He comforted himself with the assurance that no man in the seven kingdoms would have been able to avoid looking at such a glorious view of femininity and enjoying it to the fullest extent.
When she finally reached him he managed to wrench his eyes away from those perfect breasts to look at her face. He saw her lips move as she spoke but he didn't hear a word she said. She seemed to have captured him in some erotic spell that held him fast within its clutches, blinding him to everything else around them. After a few moments he was pulled back to reality by the impatient look on her face as if she were waiting on him to say something.
"What was that, Princess?" he finally asked when he understood she wanted him to give some sort of response to whatever she had said when he wasn't listening.
She regarded him with a half-smirk at his befuddled expression. "I said why don't I wash you instead? It seemed a better choice than the other alternatives you gave me."
"Do you think that a wise idea considering…" he trailed off looking down at her arresting display once again.
Her half-smirk turned into a full smile at his hesitancy to accept her offer. "I thought our nakedness didn't bother you. Didn't you say so before?"
Your teats weren't in my face before he thought silently but didn't say the words out loud. Instead he chose another tactic. "I don't need any help washing. You're not my nursemaid after all."
She simply ignored him and leaned past him to grab the rag and soap that rested beyond his shoulder. The action only served to bring certain desirable parts of her even closer to his hungry gaze. He tried to discipline his body not to react to the tempting sight but his cock just ignored the silent order as it sprung to full attention. This never would have happened if I hadn't gone months without Cersei's touch he thought to himself, but even as he formed the words in his mind, he knew they were a lie. If it were any other woman before him now, naked and wet like an offering from the gods, he wouldn't have given them a second glance. It was this girl that affected him as only Cersei before ever had, and for all the gold in the seven kingdoms, he didn't know why.
"You don't need to scowl at me like that" Amarah's chided him, misinterpreting the reason for his dark look. "Whether you like to admit it or not, you can't do this by yourself."
He gave a sigh of resignation, realizing he wouldn't be able to talk her out of this. It was best to get it over with. "Very well, Princess. What would you like me to do?"
She gestured with the soapy rag for him to face the other way. "Turn around."
He obeyed, and she placed the rough rag on his skin scrubbing away the dirt and grime that had accumulated there. She hit one of the more painful welts that the noseless bastard had given him the night he saved Brienne, and he couldn't stop the quick intake of breath that hissed past his teeth at the pain. She must have heard it because she gentled her touch after that, moving the warm rag across his skin in soft, gentle circles. He wasn't certain if her gentle touch was more or less torturous than the one before.
"Is that what you meant the day you told my father the mad king's last words?" she asked him, breaking the silence.
He was taken off guard by the question. When she had said nothing after his tale, he had assumed she wanted to leave the topic unexplored. "Yes, I didn't think you had been listening."
"I was listening" she assured him. "I just didn't understand what you meant till now. Turn back around."
He obeyed the order and moved back to face her once again. She placed her delicate hand on his damp chest and pushed until he felt his knees hit the shallow, stone bench and sat down. Once he had been seated, she proceeded to prop one knee on the bench next to his thigh while keeping the other foot under her as she continued to stand. The position was rather intimate, but he didn't know if she realized what she had done. If she did, her face didn't show it. Amarah just continued to move the rag in slow circles on his chest before moving to scrub his arms and shoulders as well. He didn't have the foresight to stop her hand before it moved down to his thighs that rested between her legs. Once she did, the startled look on her face indicated that she had discovered how much her nearness affected him.
Jaime half expected her to run screaming and shouting all manner of curses at him for his indecency, but she did none of those things. Instead, her surprised look slowly morphed into a soft, playful smile that he had never seen before. Of course she had returned his bawdy jests in the past, but she had never once looked at him with that dangerous gleam in her eye. As if he were a delectable meal that she was about to devour as she relished every bite. Jaime's mind ordered him to move away, to run, but his body wouldn't comply with that request. He could only sit there while she moved closer to him as if stalking her prey. He found it a bit ironic that the stag had become the hunter while the lion played the part of the hunted.
She tossed the rag away behind him and placed her hand back on his chest. Moving it in slow, seductive circles that mirrored her innocent actions from only minutes before, she slowly began sliding it down his slippery chest to the region where all of his blood was now gathered in his loins. He meant to say something to stop her, but he just stared transfixed as her slender hand disappeared beneath the cloudy water towards his hardness that was currently bobbing up in the water between his thighs. When he felt those delicate fingers grasp him, he closed his eyes in involuntary bliss and tried to stifle an unexpected moan of pleasure.
When she began to move her fingers in a firm, grasping motion he could no longer hold back the soft groan that escaped his lips. Amarah continued to work her magic on him while she climbed up onto the stone bench with both knees balancing her on either side of his thighs. His eyes were still closed, but he felt her move forward and place delicate kisses on his jaw, all the while her hand kept moving on him in that hypnotic motion. Her lips worked their way down his face until they found that slight indentation between his jaw and neck that seemed to fascinate her so many days before. It had only been several days since their talk with the wine, but now it seemed another lifetime ago. She licked him then with a gentle swipe of her tongue, and it was almost enough to send him bucking off the bench and burying himself within her. However, he somehow managed to remain still. She had started this little seduction, so he would let her play it out as she intended.
She then continued her trail of soft kisses to his ear where she must have seen the large bruise that one of the mummers had placed there after bashing him in the head with the butt of their sword. She placed a gentle kiss there before quietly whispering something in his ear.
"Jaime." Just one word, but it said everything. She had never called him that before. Sometimes she had called him 'Ser Jaime' or used it with his full name, but she had never said it like that. He knew what she was telling him with that one word. That she believed him. That he was no longer just "Kingslayer" to her.
Her hand had started to move more quickly now, bringing him closer to the edge of pleasure, but he wanted to thank her first in some way. His left hand had lain dormant for this entire exchange between them, but he moved it then to the silky mass of her hair pulling her slightly away from his face and turning his head to angle his lips toward hers. She noticed the motion but regarded him with hesitation before giving into the silent request. Pleasuring him was one thing, but a kiss was something far more intimate. He tried for a moment to think of Cersei's face, but he couldn't even remember a single feature. All of his thoughts were consumed by her. He had to taste her just this once, then they would put this madness behind them, and he would be free. He just needed that one taste.
She must have seen the blatant need in his gaze, for all hesitancy left her eyes as she moved toward his lips in a slow, agonizing decent. Through all this, her hand never slowed as she continued to stroke and caress him. She was building him up to a breaking point, but he held the pleasure at bay as he waited for her kiss. The first touch of their lips was soft and hesitant, but it deepened slowly as he forced her to open her mouth to him. He felt a heady pleasure as his tongue licked at her, tasted her. Through the lust-filled haze of his mind, he noticed that she tasted slightly of lemons. An odd taste but he liked it on her. He continued to stroke her tongue with his as she continued to stroke him with her hand. After a few moments more, he couldn't hold out any longer as he finally shattered in her arms.
Okay, let me just tell you right now. No, that was not a dream Jaime had. Amarah really just did that. The next chapter is in her POV so you'll just have to wait till then to find out her motivation behind that particular gesture. For those of you who might worry that this was out of character for her, don't sweat it. All will be explained in the next chapter. Please review! As I said before, wonderful comments always make me want to update for you faster:) Thanks again for reading!