Author's note: Long chapter warning. Sorry, there was a lot to fit in. Maybe get a cup of tea.

Her world was dreams, and they were all bad. Murky and confusing, drenched in menace. She was trapped, she was running, she had to do something, or get somewhere, but always some dark presence was stopping her. Sometimes she was alone in a small room with no windows or door and it was terrifying; sometimes she was outside and there were figures of people all around but she couldn't talk to them or see any of their faces. She didn't know if they were friends or enemies, if she had to save them or flee from them.

In one dream she saw Mycah, running away through the trees. She ran to catch up but when she put her hand to his shoulder and turned him around, it was the poacher's white face that she saw, dead eyes filling with rain. She woke sweaty, cold, with her heart hammering. Only she woke into yet another dream. She ran and ran, trying to escape them.

The girl didn't know how much time passed, but one morning she opened her eyes in the dark and felt the rough boards of the wagon against her cheek. She lay there, listening to Callem snoring quietly nearby, smelling smoke from a fire outside, and horses. Her mouth tasted like ash. After a while, she rolled over and stared up through the slatted walls of the covered wagon at the grey, pre-dawn sky. She knew she was awake, properly awake this time. Because one thing about dreams was that nothing hurt in them, and right now her foot and face were hurting like fuck.

She didn't mind though, because the sensation of being clear-headed was worth it. The pain throbbed at a constant but tolerable level. Like a toothache that flares up only when touched or knocked. She waited impatiently for Callem to wake, so that she'd have someone to talk to.

'Y-y-you've b-been really, really out of it,' was what he told her, as they ate the breakfast Brienne brought over for them. The girl was starving, she felt hollow inside with hunger. Callem noticed and gave her half of his food, but even then she felt as if she hadn't eaten at all.

Nine days, Callem said. Nine days? The girl wouldn't have believed it, but he had no reason to lie. It's too late now to take any moon tea. If Jaime's seed has taken root in me, what's done is done. The girl felt strangely at peace with this being out of her control.

When she asked about Jaime, Callem looked surprised and said Jaime had been there every day, didn't she remember? No, the girl thought, disappointed. I remember nothing. Since the Maester had first treated her injuries, everything ran together like mud. She remembered holding a sword to Jaime's neck, and Brienne dragging her away. It was strange to think of Jaime being there, when she had been, as Callem said, really, really out of it.

After begging Brienne when she returned to collect their bowls, the girl got a second helping of food, before Steelshanks' men began to move out. She didn't ask if Jaime could come and visit her today, but she did ask if she could have a bath. Brienne agreed: 'If we stop near anywhere suitable.' That afternoon, they'd gone out to a shallow stream and washed. The girl felt invigorated by the cool water, her senses re-awakened.

Afterwards, Brienne sat with her in the wagon as they had some soup. For the past hour they'd talked about all sorts of things, and the girl felt that if they weren't exactly best friends, at least Brienne wasn't actively threatening to kill her any more. They'd even talked about Jaime. Ser Jaime.

The girl had seen the damage to her foot when it was unbandaged. In contrast to the robust solidity of the wrapping, the puny shortened foot with its three shiny puckers of skin was altogether depressing. The two small remaining toes stood lonely and bereft, like the only survivors of a massacre .

'Well,' the girl had said, 'I guess two are better than none. Right?'

'Right,' Brienne had agreed, a little too heartily.

The girl couldn't think of anything else positive to say, although a number of jokes came to mind. She'd decided not to bother making light of things, or pretend that the disfigurement didn't worry her. Truth was, the sight of her foot made her sick to her stomach.

Now sitting back in the wagon, after they'd eaten, Brienne suggested, 'You should try walking tomorrow.'

The girl didn't reply. As if she could read her thoughts, Brienne went on, 'Lots of people walk and run just fine without toes.'

Ugh. What does 'just fine' mean, anyway? the girl thought. 'How about my eye? Can we take the patch off? It itches.' The bandages around her head had been replaced with a large patch, and she could feel a pull underneath the material, as if the skin from the corner of her eyelid to her ear was stretched too tight.

Brienne shook her head. 'The Maester told me the longer you keep the eye away from light, the better chance it has to heal and, maybe work again.'

'Maybe? Like, how does he mean?'

'He said if the nerve wasn't too damaged, then there's a chance you might be able to see some... ' Brienne waved her hand vaguely, '...movement, shadows, that sort of thing.'

'Well, thank the gods.' The girl didn't even attempt to hide her sarcasm. 'I mean, as long as I can see fucking shadows.'

Brienne regarded her sternly. 'You still have one good eye. You can still see.'

The girl frowned. 'Is it ugly, too?'

'Your face is too swollen and bruised to know what you'll look like. You'll have a scar... but scars add character they say,' Brienne said. 'There are worse things in life than scars.'

The girl sighed, looked away. Lame, blind, ugly. What worse things?

Brienne patted her on the shoulder, obviously not practised in reassurance but doing her best. 'I'm sure that whatever you were before, you will be again. If you weren't ugly before, a scar won't make it so. And I don't believe you were ugly. Ser Jaime doesn't like ugly women.'

'He likes you,' the girl said without thinking, then blushed. 'I mean, not that you are...'

Brienne snorted, unconcerned by her tactlessness. 'Ser Jaime and I... well. We used to hate each other, but now... we've talked a lot these last few days, and we understand each other better. But, we're very different people.'

'You're not so different. And he likes you, I can tell. He told me to say thank you to you, that first day, for saving me. I didn't... and I should have.' The girl grabbed Brienne's hand in both of hers, squeezed it. 'I'm sorry, Brienne. You've been amazing and I've been ungrateful. Thank you for rescuing me.'

Brienne looked uncomfortable at the praise. 'I only rescued you to protect Ser Jaime, you know.'

'Fuck off you did. You rescued me because you're a good person, and a Knight, and I needed rescuing.'

'Well. Hmm.' Brienne stood up, fussed around with collecting the bowls and spoons. 'You're rescued and that's all that matters. Rest now, and heal. We'll be in KingsLanding very soon.' She reached for the gate that closed the back of the wagon, but the girl didn't miss the concerned look on her face.

'I've been to the Capital plenty of times,' the girl said, scooching backwards to avoid the hinges as they closed. 'I can take care of myself in that cesspit.'

'I hope so,' Brienne said, as she swung the gate shut.

Jaime didn't visit the wagon that day, nor the next. Neither did Brienne. The travelling party continued as usual, not stopping to rest until evening. The girl and Callem entertained themselves by betting on which direction pebbles would roll as the wagon tilted over bumps. They discussed RedHollow and their childhoods. One of Steelshanks' men brought them food. Outside, people were talking around the fire in hushed voices. There was definitely something going on. Whatever it was though, it evidently was not anything the commoners needed to know.

Late at night, and the girl couldn't sleep. Maybe sleeping for nine days straight had spoiled her of the need for sleep in the foreseeable future. It was deathly quiet and black as pitch in every direction, but she felt so awake her skin tingled and her ears hummed.

A light approached, flickering as it passed along the slats. Footsteps, the back of the wagon creaking as it was unlocked and opened, then a man stood there in the glow of the lantern, holding a bowl of something that steamed. Jaime. Of course, it was Jaime.

The girl sat up, stretching her legs out in front of her along the wooden floor. He looks different. Maybe I just forgot how good he looked.

Jaime glanced at the bolts on the gate. 'I don't know why they lock you in here, girl. It's not like you're going to be hopping off at any great speed.'

She grinned. 'I know. I'm not exactly a high-risk prisoner.'

'But still, a prisoner of sorts. It seems we've swapped sides.'

'Yeah.' The irony wasn't lost on her. 'This side is much less fun.'

Jaime put the bowl of stew he was carrying down next to her so she could reach it. 'I heard you were hungry.'

She was. She picked up the bowl, took out the spoon and licked it. 'So.' She felt shy. She'd thought she'd known him, but now he seemed like a stranger.

'It's good to see you. Awake.' Jaime put the lantern on the ground.

'Where's Brienne?'

'She's not feeling well. She had some bad news today.'

'Of what?'

'Someone she was close too, that she'd sworn a vow to - you know how she is with vows. Takes every one of them like a personal commandment from the gods. Anyway, this person, they ah.. died. At a wedding. And our Maid of Tarth is taking it rather hard.'

'Oh. Who died?'

'I thought you didn't care about the Nobility.'

'I don't. I just like to know which of them are still alive so I know who I need to steer clear of.'

'Well. I'm afraid it was our good friend the King in the North himself,' Jaime said, sounding remarkably unperturbed. 'Robb Stark. His new wife. And his mother, Catelyn. And.. most of his men.'

There was a short silence while they contemplated the untimely deaths. Then the girl clicked her fingers.

'Damn,' she said. 'The one Lord who's name I know goes and dies. Typical.'

Jaime chuckled. 'I told the wench you had a black sense of humour. She didn't believe me.'

'Do you mean Brienne? You shouldn't call her wench, you know. She doesn't like it.' The girl held the bowl up and scooped out a spoonful. The steam rose into her face and her mouth watered.

'She doesn't like most of the things I do. How would you know she dislikes what I call her, anyway?'

'Because... I've known her longer than two minutes. And you know full well she hates being called that, that's why you do it.'

'No doubt why she calls me Kingslayer too, I imagine.'

'A real hate/hate relationship you got going there. Do you always annoy everyone you travel with so much?' She gulped down a mouthful of stew. It was delicious.

'What can I say, it's a gift,' Jaime shrugged.

The girl didn't reply, concentrated on eating. She chewed and swallowed, savouring every bite. All too soon it was gone. She tipped the bowl up to get the last drops, wishing she had another one.

'I could teach you all the Lord's names. If you want,' Jaime offered.

The girl put the bowl down and looked at him, curious.

'I could teach you a lot of things. The names of all the important people in Westeros, what they do, who controls what, who's loyal to who. I could teach you how to fight with a real sword instead of a bow and arrow. I could get someone to teach you how to... dress and talk properly, do your hair and... whatever else you need.'

The girl kept staring at him as if he'd lost his mind. Why would I want to learn those things? Maybe the sword-fighting might be useful but... the rest?

Jaime looked stymied by her silence. 'You don't have to learn all that, if you don't want to. I like you how you are. But regardless. You don't have to worry about delivering stuff any more, or earning for your family. Alright? I'm going to make sure you and your family always have enough, from now on. As soon as we get to KingsLanding I'm going to send someone to... where does your sister live again?'

'Goldgrass.'

'Yes, Goldgrass. Well, I'm going to make sure her and her children want for nothing. I owe that to them, because of you helping me. Getting my chains off, and looking after me, and trusting me, even when you had no reason to. So, you don't have to worry about those sorts of things any more.'

The girl stared at him until she was sure he was quite finished. Then, she laughed. 'What in Seven hells are you on about? You don't have to do that. But you could pay me the 500 gold coins you owe me. That's enough.'

Jaime looked away from her, frustrated. 'Of course. We'll talk about this later.'

She raised her eyebrows. 'Alllllright then. Are you feeling quite normal?'

'I feel fine.'

'Only, you're acting kinda weird. Is having to adjust to spending time with proper folk again driving you insane?' she joked. 'Is that why you decided to come slumming down to the commoner-wagon, with me and Cal?'

'Cal now, is it. When did you two get so familiar?'

'We've known each other since we were three. I think we used to run round naked in the river together.'

'Really.' Jaime looked distinctly unimpressed. 'Have you two been reminiscing?'

'Yes, actually. Quite a bit. He'd started as an apprentice smith in his father's business a couple years ago. Now he might have to re-think that, with his arm and all.'

'Any reminiscing about naked swims in the river?'

The girl stifled a giggle. 'Are you... jealous? Of Cal?'

'Well. He is getting to sleep in here with you. I could have reason.'

'He sleeps there, and I sleep there,' she pointed out the different areas in the far depths of the wagon. Cal's blanket-covered form snored lightly from out the darkness . 'There's no touching.'

Jaime regarded her with a serious expression. She hoped he wouldn't start on about teaching her a bunch of useless stuff again. But he didn't. After a while he said, rather unnecessarily she thought, 'May I sit down?'

She pulled an of-course face. 'I don't own the wagon.' What's got into him?

He sat on the edge of the platform facing her, leant back against the panels. He didn't say anything for a time, then he asked: 'Do you... hate me?'

The girl considered this carefully, before she spoke. She figured he hadn't asked just to receive a pat answer, a trite politeness. There had been too many lies between them already.

'You... your family... killed my brother. My father killed himself because of it. So, your family, killed both.' She paused, but when Jaime opened his mouth to speak she shushed him with a raised finger. 'And... your lying about who you were, to get me to help you, caused me to become involved in - things - that I otherwise wouldn't have done. Because of that Sooty is dead, I am injured and... maybe more. My life is - changed. Forever. Because of you, and your family, and your lies. I don't think I can ever forget that.'

Jaime said nothing. It was as if he knew anything he said at this point wouldn't be enough.

Finally the girl continued. 'But even so.' Her voice was so soft she was barely audible. 'Even so. I have never felt as happy as... you made me feel. I've never felt that way before, ever. Being with you is like... it made me feel complete.' She shook her head in genuine wonder. 'Why is that? How can that be?'

'I don't know,' said Jaime, quietly. 'I don't understand it myself.'

'Everything you've done and by any measure I should hate you, but all I can think about is how good it felt when we were together.'

'Yeah.' Jaime gave a short laugh. 'It is madness.'

'Brienne says -'

'Oh dear gods, don't listen to what Brienne says.'

'She says it's just animal instinct. Like any beast has to another, when they rut, and that it passes and isn't real.'

Jaime looked pained. 'You really have to stop having these girly chats with Brienne. I'm not sure she's an expert on rutting.'

'She's been so nice to me. She cares about me and Cal.'

'I care about you, girl. I'm sorry about everything. I never meant to hurt you, or for you to be hurt.' He sounded so sincere, almost as if he were hurting himself.

'I care about you, too,' she said. There's no use lying to myself about it. I care about you, I think about you all the time, my head is drowning in thoughts of you.

It was quiet again except for Callem's breathing at the back of the wagon.

'You said you'd rather die than let me touch you again,' Jaime said, at last. 'I was wondering if that's... still applicable.'

'Um.' She wasn't sure how to respond. 'When I said that, I was really mad at you.'

'And now?'

'I don't know. I guess I'm not... as mad.'

'So touching is...?' His lip curved up and he had a gleam in his eye that immediately put her on edge, and sent an excited flutter through her.

'What kind of touching are we talking about?'

'Just touching.' He let his right hand rest on her unbandaged ankle, the small weight of it warm on her bare skin. He rubbed his thumb along her calf.

A pulse started beating inside her, a steady thrum deep in her belly. 'Cal is asleep, you know.'

Jaime looked irked at the mention of Cal again. 'And how is the Cole boy,' he said with scorn, 'coping with being a cripple?'

'Speaking for the cripples, we're doing just fine,' she replied, terse. He is so rude.

'You're hardly a cripple.'

'An easy definition for you to make. I don't see you missing any limbs.'

'Toes are digits, not limbs, strictly speaking. And... I don't care about a few missing toes.' He ran his hand up her leg to above her knee, pushing up her long night-shirt. His fingers curved around the inside of her thigh and she shivered involuntarily.

'Well as long as you don't care,' she said, trying to be flippant. Jaime's hand began to stroke her sensitive inner thigh in soft, teasing circles. It was extremely distracting. He's so insulting, I should knock him away. But even as she told herself this, she knew that she wouldn't.

He shook his head at her and grinned lazily. 'I don't care one bit,' he said. He moved his hand further up her thigh to the crook of her pelvis, then put his left hand under her other knee and bent her leg up so her bandaged foot rested on the wagon planks beside him. She let him move her legs where he wanted, entranced by the feel of his hands on her skin and the deliberate certainty of his actions. She only tensed against him as he went to push her knee outwards.

'What are you doing?' she asked, breathless, although she knew.

'Open your legs and I'll show you,' he murmured.

She froze, conflicted.

Jaime looked at her and his green eyes burnt with a fierce desire. His voice was thick. 'Don't fight me, girl. I hate it when we fight.'

She didn't know why she was protesting. Lust rolled over her in dizzying waves. She felt like she shouldn't want to do this as much as she did, because he was the Kingslayer, her enemy. Oh gods but I do want to, more than anything. 'Callem is... he's just there. He'll wake up and hear us,' she said, desperate to convince herself that this was a reason to stop.

'I don't care.' Jaime leaned over her as his hand pushed her knee firmly outward, and she let him. Allowed his right hand to drop between her spread legs, all the time thinking she should move away, or resist, but doing neither. Jaime's palm pressed against her and sparks shot straight into the centre of her body and raced outwards along her nerves like molten fire. It was, simply, bliss.

'It's only animal instinct. It isn't real.' She remembered Brienne's words, but they suddenly didn't even make any sense.

Jaime's fingers eased beneath her underwear and brushed along her cleft. It was a surprise to herself that she was so wet, his fingers sliding easily between her folds like a torch melting butter.

'I guess...' he paused, smiled. 'I guess you like that.'

'Uh-huh.' There didn't seem to be any point denying it.

His fingers moved again, slow, sure. His breath warm on her cheek. She turned her face to the side, refusing to look at him. She thought of telling him to stop, that this was unwise, foolish, but even as she thought those words his fingers built a rhythm inside her and she felt such a jolt of pure pleasure that she arched her back and drew in air sharply, cried out. She buried her mouth in her arm to stop any more sounds coming out, but her breath still came in pants.

Jaime bit lightly at her neck. 'After everything you've been through,' he said in a low voice, 'I think you deserve to feel something good.' His hand moved between her legs, soft and quick, and her whole world shrank to only that movement, that feeling, nothing but the hot, sweet ecstasy of it. She couldn't help herself, she made little whines in her throat, shuddered and sighed, as her whole body wound up tighter and tighter with each slippery, exquisite stroke, and when her orgasm washed over her she gasped out loud at the intensity of it.

'Oh, Jaime,' she said, stunned, her heart thudding crazily, trying to catch her breath. 'What... the fuck. Jaime.'

He kissed her, which stopped her saying any other inane nonsense. 'Shhh,' he said, sitting up only long enough to undo his pants and push them down. Then he was on top of her again, his hands on her hips, pulling her in so that she was lying down fully underneath him. He leaned over and kissed her again, his mouth open, tongue hard and wet.

'We're going to fuck now,' he lifted his head just enough to whisper against her lips, as his breath quickened. 'If that's alright with you.'