Author's Note: Thank you for the continued support! So I didn't get this chapter done as early as I wanted, but it needed a bit more work. It's here now though, so please read on!
One day left. Only one more day of travel before Amarah would be reuniting Sansa with the Lady Stoneheart. She wasn't precisely certain how to feel about the imminent reunion between lost daughter and mother. She had tried to find the words to explain to Sansa what to expect when they met with the Brotherhood, but Amarah knew that sometimes words would never be enough. Sometimes one had to experience something for themselves in order to understand things that could not possibly be explained.
Despite this knowledge, that night when they made camp, Amarah went to Sansa to try once more to prepare her for what was soon to come. When she approached the girl's dwelling, she found Brienne standing at the entrance, a faithful sentry to protect against any soldiers who might not be able to resist the temptation of a young, beautiful girl in their midst. It wasn't that Amarah didn't trust Jaime's men. She just trusted Brienne more.
"Good evening, my lady," Brienne greeted her when she arrived.
Amarah returned the greeting with a warm smile and prepared to enter the tent before a quick thought occurred to her. "Brienne," she said in a low voice intended only for her knight's ears. "Tomorrow eve stay as close to the lady Sansa as possible."
"What about you, my lady?" Brienne was quick to reply, causing Amarah to send her a grateful smile at the display of steadfast loyalty.
"I have Jaime to watch after me," she tried allay Brienne's fears. When Brienne opened her mouth to further contest the point, Amarah laid a gentle hand on her shoulder to stay the argument. "Sansa is the heir to Winterfell, and the only Stark left to reunite the broken North. If the need arises for your protection, you must give it to her and not worry about me. It's time I began put my family above my own selfish needs. Things might turn out well enough despite my fears, but if they do not, I need you to obey me in this."
Brienne did not appear happy with Amarah's decision, but she gave a barely perceptible nod in agreement. "If that is what you wish, my lady."
"It is," Amarah answered kindly. "Sansa's encountered too many people who have used her as a pawn in their schemes to meet their own ends. It's time she had a loyal knight such as I have to stand by her side."
It may have been a trick of the light, but Amarah imagined that Brienne's brilliantly sapphire eyes turned a bit misty in the moonlight. "I would say she has that in you as well, my lady."
Amarah gave Brienne's shoulder a gentle squeeze in thanks. "Then we shall both endeavor to serve her as faithfully as we can."
With those words, Amarah left Brienne to enter Sansa's tent. When she entered the flickering candlelight, she found Sansa kneeling in a far corner, rummaging through a cedar chest. Amarah recalled that the chest of clothing was the only thing Sansa had taken with her from the Vale. Whatever it was Sansa was searching for, her attention was so invested in locating the item that she didn't see Amarah enter the tent.
"Sansa?" Amarah called to Sansa in order to alert her of her presence.
Sansa whipped around, her eyes widened in unexpected surprise. When she saw Amarah standing there, she immediately shut the lid of her trunk with a loud thump. Puzzled by her odd behavior, Amarah crossed the space to where Sansa was rising from her position on the dirt floor.
"What precisely is in there that you're attempting to hide from me?" Amarah wondered with a keen look. "A dead body perhaps?"
That managed to illicit a bare hint of a smile from the other girl, but she didn't offer to show Amarah what it was she wished to keep hidden. "Nothing important," she answered with a downcast gaze that caused Amarah to suspect she wasn't being entirely truthful. "Just some of my summer dresses for when the weather turns warmer."
Amarah reached out to tilt Sansa's chin up, letting the glow of the candlelight expose the furtive look in those wide, blue eyes. "I won't make many requests of you, cousin, but the one thing I do ask is that you are entirely honest with me. I know you well enough to see when you are trying to hide something."
"Please believe me that it is nothing important," Sansa responded, grabbing onto Amarah's hand that still held her face captive in the light. "It's just something that I would rather keep to myself."
Amarah's instinct was to press the subject further, but from the frantic look in Sansa's eyes, she decided to mercifully spare her cousin whatever mortification would be caused by discovering what she wished to keep hidden in that trunk. "All right," she agreed before she could change her mind. "In any case, that's not why I came to talk with you."
"What did you wish to say? Lady Brienne says we should meet with the Brotherhood on the morrow, and Moth– , I mean the Lady Stoneheart," she stopped herself from speaking the familiar title.
Amarah led Sansa to the trunk she had just slammed shut before bidding her to sit down on the closed lid. "That's what I wanted to discuss," Amarah informed Sansa once she was seated. "I don't think I've adequately prepared you for what you are going see when we meet with the Brotherhood."
"What else is there to say?" Sansa asked softly, looking up at her cousin in wide-eyed wonderment.
Amarah took a deep breath to tell the worst of it. "When your mother was given life by Beric Dondarrion, she didn't return to how we knew her. She hardly even resembles her old self. In fact, the wounds that were inflicted upon her at the Tully wedding are still there. Gods, she looks like a walking corpse." Amarah had to stop for a moment in order to gather her emotions properly. "When you see her Sansa, the brutality that was inflicted on her will still be there for you to see. It will serve as a reminder to you what was done to her at the hand of the Freys."
Sansa tangled her fingers together in a show of anxiety. "Does she even still look like my mother?"
"If you look very closely, there is still some of the real Catelyn Stark left in her soul, but she bears very heavily the mark of vengeance. The compassion and warmth we both remember might not be any where to be found."
It saddened Amarah to inflict such pain on Sansa with these revelations about Stoneheart, but she would rather the young girl experience that suffering now than to come face to face with the vengeful spirit of Catelyn Stark without any proper warning, leaving her wholly unprepared to process the emotions Lady Stoneheart's appearance might stir up within her already wounded soul.
Sansa took a moment to absorb all that Amarah had told her, and stood from her perch on the cedar chest to wander about the small space as she considered all that had been said. "Why do you wish Brienne to stay with me with we meet with her?" she finally asked Amarah after several moments of silent pacing.
Amarah gave a small grimace at her question. "I hadn't intended for you to hear that."
"But I did," Sansa replied, a look of authority gracing her features that hinted at the mature woman she had become in Amarah's absence. "You asked me to be honest with you. Can you do the same for me?"
"I don't know what will happen when we meet with Stoneheart," Amarah admitted truthfully. "I only want to take whatever precautions I can to see that you are kept safe. As I am presently unaware of your sister's whereabouts, you are the only Stark left to ride North and retake the family seat in Winterfell, and you must be kept from any harm. Brienne is the most faithful knight I have ever had the pleasure to meet, and I know I can trust her implicitly with your safety. I am not saying anything will take a turn for the worst, but if it does, I expect you to keep Brienne by your side at all costs."
Amarah wasn't prepared for the next question that left Sansa's mouth. "What of Sandor Clegane? He would keep me safe if you asked it of him."
"Why do you think that?" Amarah's response contained not the barest hint of sarcasm or disdain, only a healthy amount of curiosity. She had already glimpsed Clegane's tendency to watch over Sansa's safety, even when the girl was not aware of his regard. Amarah wondered how much Sansa herself understood the protective instincts she roused in such a man as that.
"He's helped me before," Sansa told her then, speaking in soft tones as if it were a closely-guarded secret meant only for Amarah's ears, and perhaps it was. "In the capital, the royal party was attacked by an angry mob. I was separated from the rest when these men tried to hurt me. When I thought all hope of rescue was lost, he came and slayed them all to keep me safe. Even when the capital burned the night of Stannis Baratheon's siege, he came to me and offered to take me with him. He told me he would never let anyone else harm me if I did."
Amarah didn't say anything at first as she thought over what Sansa had said. At Amarah's silent response, Sansa resumed her agitated pacing, looking back every now and then at her cousin as she waited for her to speak. "If what you say is true," Amarah broke the silence, bringing Sansa's constant pacing to a stop. "Then I won't need to ask him to keep you safe. He'll do it of his own accord."
Sansa's gaze wandered back to the mysterious chest still sitting tightly closed in the corner of the tent. "Yes," she agreed with a queer look that Amarah didn't fully understand. "I suppose he will."
There were a barrage of questions Amarah wished to ask her cousin about the odd relationship between her and the Hound, but she kept them locked away. If she began asking Sansa questions about Sandor Clegane, she knew she would have to answer ones in return about Jaime, bringing to light certain aspects of their relationship that she was not yet prepared to discuss. So reluctantly, she let the subject come to a close.
"Go to bed now, my dear," she ordered her cousin with a soft kiss, shooing her in the direction of her sleeping pallet. "You'll need your rest for the morrow."
"Good night," Sansa returned Amarah's kiss and did as she was asked.
Amarah made sure Sansa was situated properly before exiting the tent and bidding Brienne a good evening as she made her way back to her own temporary abode. She passed Sandor Clegane sitting a short distance away from where she had just come and almost gave into the impulse to question him about his odd behavior regarding the young Stark girl. However, she curtailed the impulse and simply acknowledged his presence with a nod before proceeding on. He didn't return the gesture, but she hadn't expected him to.
When Amarah arrived at her own tent, she went inside to find Jaime already fast asleep. Officially, he had his own tent and bed to sleep in, but he never stayed there. Once the men were settled for the night, he would make his way to her tent and spend the night hours with her. She always awoke to find him gone, his early departure an attempt to keep their relationship discreetly hidden from prying eyes as she had asked him to do, but sometimes Amarah let herself wonder what it would be like to awaken with him by her side every morning. What it would be like to have the family with him that she so longed for, far away from the capital and all its scheming and political intrigue.
But that can never be, she thought with a sad smile as she continued to watch his sleeping form. Neither of them had wanted to be a part of this struggle for power, but it was the life they were both born to. There was no escaping it.
Pushing her fanciful notions of peace and happiness aside, Amarah shed her gown before crawling underneath the furs and pressing her face against Jaime's warm skin. She had meant to follow him into sleep until she felt him turn to face her and wrap his strong arms around her small form.
He nuzzled her hair before moving his mouth to whisper in her ear. "Where were you?"
"Talking with Sansa," she answered while tracing little, invisible patterns across his exposed chest.
He let her play for a bit before reaching up to still her wandering hand. "If you don't stop doing that we'll be doing more than sleeping."
"Is that what we're doing?" she whispered back in mock surprise. "You seem rather awake for a man in the depths of slumber."
She could hear Jaime's answering chuckle in the darkness. "Always so clever, Princess. I expect you to use those wits tomorrow when we bring your cousin to that rage-filled corpse. Gods know we can use every ounce of cleverness at our disposal then."
"I'm frightened of what she might do," Amarah admitted then, her small whisper barely making it past her lips as if she were incapable of admitting any vulnerability such as fear.
She knew Jaime heard though when he pressed her closer into his protective embrace. "I've already told you to stop imagining the worst before it happens. My men are prepared to deal with those outlaws if the need should arise. I would worry more about that cousin of yours falling into a dead faint at the sight of her mother's cadaver-like appearance."
"I've warned her the best I could," Amarah told him, though the words came out a bit garbled as her face was pressed firmly against his hard chest. Pulling back a bit, she tried to peer at him through the darkness. "What was it like for you, when you saw what Tyrion had done to your Father?"
Jaime was so silent at first Amarah feared she might have gone too far with her question. When Jaime had first told her of Tywin's death and Tyrion's subsequent disappearance, she had been too shocked to form a reply. Now was the first she had ever broached the topic of the disappeared Lannister sibling. "Part of me was saddened, I think," Jaime's voice whispered softly in her ear. "I was angry even at Tyrion for doing it, but the longer I was given to think on it the more understood why."
"He always spoke of how much disdain he had for your father," Amarah answered, recalling all the times Tyrion had mocked the proud, unbending Tywin Lannister in her presence. "But despite all that, I think he just wanted the approval of a father who would never love him. It made me sad to hear him talk about it."
"Well he hates the lot of us now." There was a bitter edge to Jaime's voice that prompted Amarah to press a kiss of reassurance to his lips. They were hardened into an angry line at first, but after a few moments she felt his mouth relax again under the soft pressure of her kiss.
Pulling back, she rested her head sleepily on his chest. "He'll forgive you, Jaime. Love always helps us forgive."
"If that's true, Princess, let us hope that corpse finds it in her heart to offer us forgiveness in exchange for her lost daughter. If not, you may have very good reason to prepare for the worst," came Jaime's cynical reply.
Amarah would have disputed the claim if she had believed it to be untrue, but she knew it was not. Burrowing further into Jaime's warm embrace, she squeezed her eyes tightly and tried to shut out the image of Lady Stoneheart's chilling gaze, so full of the hate Jaime had mentioned. For all their sakes, she prayed to the Seven that the creature could find it in her heart to forgive. With that silent prayer on her lips, Amarah drifted to sleep in Jaime's arms.
So I had originally meant to have the reunion with Lady Stoneheart here, but as the chapter went on, I realized I needed a bit more set up for that than I had originally planned. Next chapter though, we'll definitely get there. Will Stoneheart forgive or continue on the path towards vengeance? You'll just have to keep reading to find out:) Thanks for reading! Any comments are very welcome!