Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Here's the next chapter as promised, and for those that wanted it,there's some lovin' in here too! Read on!
Amarah wrapped the furs tightly around Sansa's shoulders before stepping back to regard her with an expression of motherly concern. "Are you certain you're feeling all right? You did just kill a man, after all."
"Only to stop him from doing the same to you," Sansa reminded her, glancing up over the rim of her cup to send her cousin a look of longsuffering patience. "Please don't worry about me. The sleep draught Pia sent should help," she murmured softly and placed the empty cup in Amarah's outstretched hand.
Amarah wanted to press her further, but decided to let the subject drop. Once they had both managed to gain control of their emotions in the Hall, Jaime had seen to moving Baelish's body while Amarah tended to the young girl who had unexpectedly put an end to the schemer's life. As they were to stay in the keep before heading back down the mountains the following morning, Amarah had taken Sansa back to her room where Pia was waiting to plead with the younger girl for forgiveness due to the part she played in deceiving her. Now that Sansa understood the reason for Pia's part in the attack, she readily forgave her and even requested some more of that sleeping draught be brought up to her in order to ensure a night of peaceful rest.
Pia had happily agreed, immensely thankful to no longer be the object of the young noblewoman's anger, and scampered off in the direction of the kitchens to do as she was bid. While they had waited for Pia to return with the draught, Sansa explained to Amarah how Petyr Baelish had whisked her away from the capital the very eve of Joffrey's ill-fated nuptials in order to establish her as his bastard daughter in the fortress of her aunt Lysa Tully. It was then that she had to inform Amarah of Baelish's hand in assisting Lady Lysa to her death, the very same way he had meant to send Amarah to hers.
Amarah had also intended to tell her cousin in turn of Lady Stark's odd fate until the moment was lost to Pia's sharp rap on the wooden door. They hadn't had the opportunity to speak again until the draught was mostly all gone and Sansa leaned back into with the warm furs watching Amarah with a heavy-lidded gaze. Despite Amarah's doubts to her cousin's claims that she was well enough, she was content to let the matter of Sansa's part in Baelish's death rest until another time. Now they needed to discuss something of much greater importance.
Seating herself on the edge of Sansa's fur covered bed, Amarah gently reached to clasp her cousin's folded hands. "Sansa," she began carefully, wanting to find just the right words how to tell her. "What all do you know of how Aunt Catelyn and Robb died at the Tully wedding?"
The fatigue in Sansa's eyes was slowly replaced by a sad despondency at hearing Amarah's words. "Petyr told me everything."
When Amarah realized she would say nothing else she continued on to break the heavy silence. "Well, there was something he most likely neglected to include in his description of the events following the massacre."
"What do you mean?" Sansa questioned, rising up on the furs as far as she could to search Amarah's furtive gaze. "He said Roose Bolton stabbed Robb through the heart and Mother had her throat slit– " She had to stop for a moment to compose herself, taking a shuddering breath in order to finish the thought. "Mother had her throat slit by one of the Freys, and it was all done on the orders of Tywin Lannister."
Amarah didn't miss the slightly accusing tone that colored Sansa's last words but decided to forgo the explanation of her relationship with Jaime for the present. Instead she turned the topic back to what she needed most to discuss with her young cousin. "There's more to tell that he did not know." Sansa raised her brows the slightest bit to prompt the rest of Amarah's explanation. "Sansa, Aunt Catelyn died that day just as you were told, but… " Now it was Amarah's turn to trail off as she searched for the words that would explain the situation to her cousin without causing her to appear a raving lunatic. "That is, well, you see she isn't quite as dead as we originally thought."
"How can that be?" Sansa whispered the words softly, eyes widened in shock.
Amarah wished she could provide her with an adequate explanation but was only able to shrug her shoulders haplessly. "I wish I knew but please don't mistake my news for something it is not," she made sure to warn her. "This woman who sent us here, Lady Stoneheart as she calls herself, she's not the Catelyn you and I know so well. I want you to be prepared for this when you see her."
Sansa considered those words for a moment, dropping her eyes to study the fur coverings which she now twisted between her fingers that knotted together in agitation. "Is that where you're taking me?" she asked, looking up at Amarah once more. "To see her?"
"Yes," Amarah answered with an affirmative nod. "Whether she's the same woman we both remember or not, she needs to know you're alive. You understand, don't you?"
Sansa closed her eyes wearily but tilted her head in acknowledgement of Amarah's request. "I think so."
Amarah wasn't convinced her cousin truly grasped the full meaning of what she had been trying to say, but from the sleepy look on her face, she decided to save the remainder of their conversation for a later time. "I'll leave you now then," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Sansa's brow.
Just as she stood to leave, she felt a weak hand reach out from the bed to catch on to her retreating skirts. Puzzled, Amarah turned back to see what it was Sansa wanted. "How did you know to find me here?"
The question came out on a loud yawn, but Amarah was able to discern her meaning. "I went to Sandor Clegane for help. He helped alert me to your alliance with Baelish which led us here."
Amarah had thought Sansa almost on the verge of sleep, so she was surprised to see those blue eyes snap open so quickly at hearing her response. "The Hound is here?"
"Yes," Amarah replied, her gaze narrowing in speculation at Sansa's interest in Sandor Clegane. "He's with the other men, I suppose. He helped in the effort to take the keep from Baelish."
A strange light of speculation lit Sansa's eyes for the briefest of moments before she quickly closed them, hiding the remainder if her thoughts from Amarah's view. "I'll sleep now," she muttered softly before turning to the side to accommodate herself more comfortably beneath the furs.
"Sleep well," Amarah softly bid her farewell, before exiting the little chamber and bolting the door behind her. It was most likely a silly notion on her part, but now that they had found the little, lost Stark, she wasn't going to be taking any chances on losing her again.
After clicking the latch firmly into place, Amarah looked up to find the towering form of Brienne striding down the corridor towards her. "Ser Jaime wishes you to come to him, my lady," she informed Amarah as soon as she reached the spot where she stood.
Amarah didn't miss the hint of trepidation in that deceptively simple request. "Is he very angry with me?" She knew in the High Hall that Jaime's relief at her safe rescue might have overtaken any other feelings that might come about as a result of her disobedience. She could only imagine the tongue lashing he had in store for her when that relief inevitably gave way to the fury that was sure to follow.
"He didn't seem at all happy, my lady," Brienne returned, the trepidation in her voice now giving way to censure.
"It was foolish of me to disobey, I know," Amarah tried to explain to her knight but was only met with a look of stony silence. "I don't expect you to understand, Brienne," she went on when it became clear the knight would say nothing to ease her discomfort. "But I simply couldn't stand aside while my cousin was within arms reach and I could be of some help in finding her."
Despite Amarah's attempt to explain herself, it didn't appear as if Brienne was quite ready forgive her mistress's rash behavior. "I understand that you wanted to help," she told her with a sympathetic gaze. "But, my lady, you must understand that it is my duty to do anything within my power to protect you. When you won't allow me to do that, I can be of no use to you."
"I'm sorry, Brienne," Amarah responded contritely, slipping her gaze to study the stone floor at their feet rather than look at the hurt expression on her knight's face. "I should have considered that before running off on my own. I shan't do it again."
"I know, my lady," Brinne finally relented. "But you needn't apologize to me any more. There's another who wishes to talk to you now."
Amarah gave an audible groan at her reminder. "Best to get it over with then," she sighed. "Lead the way."
The pitying glance Brienne sent her before turning to lead to where Jaime awaited did little to soothe Amarah's rattled composure. It was a silent walk along the passageway, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls, making the place seem more stoic and gloomy than even before. It almost felt as if she were walking to her death, but Amarah quickly shook off the silly notion. He can't be that angry with me, she tried to tell herself, though the reassurance did little to help calm the frantic flutter of her heart against her ribs. Or can he?
When they reached Jaime's borrowed chambers and the doors opened to reveal the livid face behind them, Amarah discovered that he could, in fact, be that angry. She instinctively stepped toward her knight for protection against his wrath, but Jaime's sharp eyes picked up on the tiny movement.
"Don't look to her for protection now, Princess," he informed her, not even bothering to hide the rampant rage in his voice. "You managed well enough before on your own, did you not?"
In the interest of self preservation, Amarah put in place the most remorseful expression she could muster to try and dissipate as much of his anger as possible. "I was only– "
Jaime didn't even allow her the chance to explain. "You were only what? Trying your damned hardest to get yourself killed?! I ought to take you across my knee and instill some good sense in you whether you like it or not."
The step towards Brienne was much larger this time than the one before. "You wouldn't dare," she shot back quickly.
The grim smile he gave in return did little to reassure her. "Brienne," Jaime addressed the knight while keeping his burning gaze pinned on the the princess like a hunter waiting to strike down his prey. "Get out."
Amarah quickly whirled to face the lady knight. "Brienne, don't you dare take one step out of this room."
It didn't bode well for Amarah that Brienne hesitated in responding to that order. "I won't give the order again, wench," Jaime's irate voice floated to them from beyond Amarah's turned shoulder.
Amarah saw her faithful guard mouth a silent apology before she obeyed the tersely worded command and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind her and effectively trapping Amarah with the raging, wild lion. The lion stalked her slowly then, backing her up inch by inch until her back was pressed against the door which Brienne had just closed following her retreat. Judging by the livid expression on her lion's face, perhaps that moon door would have been a more merciful fate than this.
Instead of yanking her to him and landing her across his knee as he had threatened to do, Jaime pressed his fingers into her upper arm in a grip so tight she knew she would wear the marks of it the following day. His golden hand he used to force her wandering gaze to his. When she looked into those eyes leaping with flames more fearsome than that of wildfire, she caught sight of something else as well. Terror. Fear. Pain. A reflection of the horror she had heard in his cry just as she had been about to plummet to her death. She had caused him this pain, this powerful, proud lion of hers, and she felt her heart drop at the dismal realization. She opened her mouth to spout whatever apologies came to mind, but he cut her short by pressing a frantic, violent kiss to her lips instead.
His tongue marauded and pillaged her open mouth, not granting her any mercy. He tasted her with deep licks, pressing her even further into the wooden door before ripping his mouth from hers and pinning her with that wild, green gaze. "How many times do you think you can cheat death, you little fool?" his lashed out at her, his hot breath hitting her face in steady waves. "Why can't you simply do as you're told?"
He roared this last question at her like a beast would frighten a stag in the wild before he devoured it, and Jaime promptly commenced with doing just that, not even giving her the chance to defend herself from his accusations. His mouth was back on hers again. She could taste the fear and anger in that kiss as he returned to ravaging her lips and tongue. She didn't try to resist him though. If this was how he chose to deal with the fear she had caused him, if this was how he wanted to channel the anger, she would let him. She only wanted to make that look of desperate fear in his eyes vanish; apologize to him in the only way that words could never accomplish.
As his mouth broke from hers to travel down her neck, his teeth rested lightly on the cord of her neck before sinking in to cause her to arch towards him in pleasure. "Forgive me," she heard the words tumble from her lips even as he continued to devour her whole. "Forgive me, Jaime."
He lifted his head then to reward her apology with another thorough kiss. "You'll have to make the apology better than that, Princess," he panted in between kisses.
Amarah looked into his eyes again and still saw hints of the fear that had had torn at her heart so, and determined to completely rid the emerald gaze of that dreaded fear. She was safe now and in his arms where she belonged, even if he didn't approve of her methods of finding her cousin, it was over now. They were both safe and they were together.
"It's over now," she leaned forward to whisper urgently in his ear. "I'm here. I'm with you. Please don't be angry." A betraying sob gave her away as the last words left her lips, and he pulled her back to look into her face.
The anger which had lit his eyes like a brilliant wildfire only moments ago was less pronounced now, though hints of it still lingered there. "I cannot let you die, Princess," he confessed then, touching his forehead to hers as his breath mingled with her own. "You cannot be so reckless! Do not expect me to allow you to willingly endanger your life and then stand aside quietly when you nearly get yourself killed due to your foolishness."
"But you must not try to trick or deceive me into doing your bidding either," Amarah returned his plea with one of her own for him to understand. Jaime opened his mouth to argue the point, but Amarah placed her finger across his lips to hold the rebuttal at bay. "I understand why you did it. I didn't at first, but I do now. Despite that, you know who I am, Jaime Lannister. I'm stubborn and headstrong, and I always will be, I'm afraid. I can't be pushed aside while you fight my battles for me. Protect me as much as you wish, but don't keep me from your side. Protect me while I stand by your side."
Jaime's eyes remained closed while she spoke, and when he said nothing in response to her request, she feared she might have gone too far. However, those fears were put at ease when his lids slowly opened, revealing a tenderness in his gaze she hadn't expected to find. "We both went about this wrong it would seem," he told her then before placing another kiss against her trembling lips. It was more gentle than the first, but no less potent. Amarah felt the affects of his kiss all the way to the tips of her toes as they curled in pleasure at his touch. "We'll have to do better next time."
He bent to kiss her again, but Amarah pulled back. If he kissed her now, she would forget the words that needed to be said. "No more leaving me in ignorance of your plans and sneaking about behind my back?"
He quirked a golden brow in response. "Only if you make a similar promise to never run off again without either me or Brienne by your side. If I ever find you wandering off like that again, I will take you across my knee then."
Amarah returned that threat with a seductive smile this time rather than a horrified glare. "I would rather you just take me," she purred softly in his ear.
Without another word, Jaime swung her up in his arms and carried her to the bed several feet away. Amarah hadn't bothered to ask what rooms they were in, but right now with Jaime's hard, virile form so close, that thought was the farthest thing from her mind. Depositing her on the soft furs, Jaime quickly stepped away to strip out of his clothes.
"Wait!" Amarah called out to him just as his hand reached to pull his tunic over his head.
Jaime looked back to her with a questioning glance. "Something the matter?"
"I want you to let me do that," Amarah returned before rising from the bed and approaching the spot where he stood. "I've dressed you before, but I've never had the pleasure of doing the reverse."
"Far be it from me to deny the princess of what she wants," Jaime answered as a faintly amused smile played at the corners of his mouth. There was a silent challenge there as well, and Amarah didn't hesitate in accepting it. Before taking time to rethink her actions, she boldly reached towards the tunic which dangled halfway out of his breeches and pulled it free the rest of the way before slowly lifting it over his head. With each new inch of golden skin that she revealed, Amarah felt her anticipation rise, her blood turning thick and hot in her veins in preparation of what was to come.
Once the tunic was disposed of, she went to work on the breeches as well, sliding them down his legs along with his smallclothes and kneeling to the floor to work them all the way off. From that position it was hard not to notice how ready he was to be inside her, but she ignored the evidence of his excitement and instead returned to stand before him.
"Now do the same for yourself, Princess," Jaime ordered softly with that same challenging smile from before.
It felt terribly wicked stripping herself bare before him, but Amarah forced her trembling fingers to do his bidding. She didn't rush the job, though. She removed each piece of clothing just as slowly as she had from him. Though he didn't say anything, Amarah could hear Jaime's breath grow quicker and more labored as the minutes passed slowly on, indicating his approval of her performance. She didn't dare look at him as she went about the task, but once the last stitch was removed, she looked up to find him gazing at her with a look so tender it almost brought tears to her eyes.
She squeezed her eyes shut then to prevent the moisture from escaping and shook her head in wonder. How was it that he could make her feel so much when for most of her life she had been determined to feel as little as possible? She barely recognized herself when she was with him, the emotions she had fought for so long to store so deeply within herself rising to the surface without thought or care. "What have you done to me, Jaime Lannister?" wondered aloud then, opening her eyes to find him just as devastating to her senses as before.
"No more than you've done to me," he replied tenderly before sweeping her up in his arms as before and traveling back to the abandoned bed.
Instead of laying Amarah on her back as she expected him to do, Jaime surprised her by switching their positions, so that his back lay against the furs with her straddling his narrow hips. When she looked down at him in bewilderment, Jaime moved his golden hand to trace an invisible line from between her breasts to the point where her heated flesh met his.
"I'm still waiting for that apology, Princess," he told her with a depraved grin.
It was then that Amarah understood what he wanted her to do. Cautiously, she lifted on her knees to reach between them, placing his body at the place to receive her. Jaime offered no help whatsoever, and simply leaned back, looking up at her with equal parts amusement and rampant lust. Never one to back down from a challenge, Amarah gripped him in one hand before sliding back down to take him. From the hiss of pleasure that escaped his mouth when he slid inside her tight passage, she assumed she must have done something right.
Rising on her knees almost to the point of releasing him completely, she sunk back down more quickly than before and was rewarded for the effort with a loud groan of pleasure. Encouraged by his response, she rose again before adjusting the angle the slightest bit and slid back down. This time he went much deeper than before, managing to elicit a moan of pleasure from her as well. Deciding that this was proving more enjoyable than she had originally thought it to be, Amarah set about experimenting with the different angles and speeds with which she could ride him. After several minutes of this she heard Jaime mutter something about faster, but she ignored the command in favor or keeping her own slow steady rhythm.
"Gods," Jaime moaned after she refused to increase their pace, the word making it sound as if he were in agony of the acutest kind.
He then flipped them without warning, pinning her hips beneath his as he set the pounding rhythm he had been craving all along. Amarah tried to ride out the pleasure but he was too relentless, not allowing her even the slightest chance to escape his hammering thrusts. With a loud cry, she came almost violently, raking her blunt nails down his back as the waves of pleasure wrung every last ounce of strength from her bones. Once she felt the last of the delicious tremors begin to fade, Jaime began to shudder in her arms as he finally lost the battle to the intense pleasure as well. He didn't withdraw from her then as he had done before, but she was too sated too care. Once he stilled in her embrace, Jaime pressed a soft kiss to her mouth before withdrawing from her heat and turning her so that her body lay curved against his.
Sleep was almost upon her then, but Amarah needed to say one last thing before she slipped into unconsciousness. "Jaime?"
The only sound that met her query at first was the sound of heavy breathing, giving her the impression that he had fallen asleep, but finally she heard him mumble a response against her back. "Hmmm?"
"Are you done being angry with me?"
She felt a mouth press to her shoulder then before it smiled against her back. "Go to sleep, Princess."
This time Amarah had no difficulty in complying with his order. As she slowly drifted off to sleep with the sound of Jaime's soft snores behind her, Amarah decided that perhaps this fate had proved preferable to the moon door after all.
Ok, so things got a little bit mushy there at the end, but I thought it would be nice to give them a romantic moment with one another before heading back to deal with the undead Lady Cat. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, mushiness and all:) As always thank you for reading! Please let me know if you have any thoughts or comments!
A/N: Let me add this quick thought, since apparently this didn't come across as clear as I would have liked. Amarah never actually believes at any point that Jaime will physically abuse her in some way. She's afraid of him making good on the threat to give her a good spanking, but the opportunity comes for Jaime to prove to her that he would never actually raise a hand to her despite how livid he might be. That was the idea I was getting at, and I apologize if it came across in a more negative way.