note: sexual content - don't get too excited :(

Zhea

All Tyrion told Zhea was that the Prince of Dorne would meet them at the gates of the city to be escorted inside. Tyrion was certain it was going to be Doran, but Zhea wasn't convinced. In the short time she was in Dorne, Prince Doran's health was very irregular. He was healthy one moment, then he got sick at the drop of a hat. She was almost positive Oberyn would be the one to take his place, and he would not arrive midday to be escorted by a Lannister.

The brothel was just as busy as the day she was attacked by Jaime at its doorsteps. Memories of fighting side by side with Ned Stark flooded her, and her eyes were glued to where Jaime shoved a blade through Jory's eye and out the back of his head. She shook off the memories and stepped inside. The whores flooded to her intrigued to see who would be paying them today, but she shook them off.

Her sexual appetite had been long since satiated and only her own trembling hands neared her when she shat or shaved.

"Oi, Oberyn," she snapped as she entered the room. Ellaria waved at her from under a beautiful girl, and Oberyn was seducing the man in charge while Littlefinger was away.

Oberyn looked at her from behind the boy and ran his hand to cup his ass. "You're accent is fading, little dragon," he said. "Have you been practicing your dart?"

"I am finding my dagger to be more useful," Zhea said perfectly in her mother tongue.

"Oh, no," Oberyn shook his head and released the boy. He dismissed his offhandedly and took Zhea's hands. "You must keep up your rope dart. I promise you it is the best of all the weapons you own. I see you have many on your person now."

"Enough of the small talk, Oberyn," Zhea said coldly, retracting her hands. "You're in King's Landing, yet I had no prior knowledge?"

"You're angry. Why? Because I did not send a bird?" Oberyn took her to the bench at the end of the bed and sat beside her. The whore Ellaria was working on moaned loudly.

"I'm angry for plenty, least of all your arrival," Zhea leaned onto her knees and droned out the sound of tongue against skin. "You sent a gift to Dragonstone and not a ship? I was there for months while you sat in Dorne fucking Ellaria."

"Doran would not allow me to send anyone to your aid. He wishes to remain out of the conflict," Oberyn said. "But that is not why you're angry."

"No, but it is unfair of me to say."

"Say it anyway."

She swallowed tightly and clenched her fists, letting her fingernails dig into her palm. "Westeros is shit. I have a family in YiTi who have no clue I'm still alive. I should be with them. If you hadn't taken me from Meereen, I could've gone home. If I had gone home, I wouldn't be here in the middle of a war as a prisoner and a victim."

"What has happened, my dear?" Oberyn asked softly.

"Men happened. Greedy, evil, selfish men happened, and now I'm broken. Nobody will want damaged goods."

He swallowed. "I should have kept you with me. You would've been warm and safe." Oberyn shook his head. "Ellaria means a great deal to me, but you are just as important. I should've fought Doran harder for you."

"You sent me to the best family imaginable," Zhea said kindly. "The Starks changed my life."

"Five years–almost six. That's how long since I've seen you. How can I even claim to call you daughter, if you've been with another family longer than me?"

"Well, you could make up for all the lost time?" Zhea smiled weakly.

Oberyn hugged her. "Yes, and we can start after I've had my fill here. Go! This is no place for my sweet daughter."

Zhea laughed genuinely for the first time since her arrival and made her way out of the brothel. The woman followed her tugging at her arms and dress, begging for just a minute or two with her. Zhea knew she'd not be able to let any girl near her, but she had no qualms about being near them.

She grabbed a foreign girl close to her and kissed her deeply. Letting her tongue explore the girl's mouth and trailing her hand to her ass felt good. She knew that being close to Jaime was dangerous for her. He was treating her so sweetly, and she was becoming too attached to him. Zhea was led to a separate room with one bed and two girls already engaged in it. The whore who led her sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her thigh invitingly. Pushing her legs apart, Zhea tried to forget all her worries as she made the whore whimper and moan. She ran a hand up the whore's chest and pushed her down onto the bed, fondling a nipple between her fingers.

Was Jaime good in bed? He must've been if Cersei had been satisfied with him for years. Would he still be as good with his dominant hand gone?

The whore tasted as one would expect, but Zhea's thoughts were glued on Jaime. Did he mind the taste or was he selfish in bed? Zhea's hand left the nipple and worked alongside her mouth as the other hand held the legs apart. No, Jaime wouldn't be selfish. He was a goof, but he was generous. Maybe once he had been, but he changed. She never believed people could change, but he did.

Zhea lapped up the climax eagerly and stood to leave, but was faced with another whore who took her head in her hands and kissed her. The girl moaned loudly as she touched herself and backed Zhea onto the bed next to the girl whose chest still heaved from her climax.

The new girl's hair was blonde and her eyes were green, just like Jaime's. Her body was fuller than the foreign whore's, and Zhea kissed and sucked at her chest. Although her body was fully engrossed in this new girl, her mind was far away. It was with Jaime again. Zhea fingered this girl while sucking her tits and let lick her juices off her fingers before she left.

Before her travels, this activity would've brought her warmth deep within her. She might've partaken in the intercourse, receiving just as eagerly as she gave, but she felt nothing. The only time Zhea felt the least bit of enjoyment was the thought of Jaime. If the hands that wrapped around her waist at night could pleasure her as she did these girls. Then anxiety overtook her, and she remembered what happened the last time a man went near her. The pain she felt those nights, once a faded scar flared up again like salt on a fresh wound, and she suddenly had no desire to be in that room any longer.

Her hands shook and she tried to clear her mind of the unpleasant thoughts that clouded it. She would refocus on her rock. Jaime, she knew, was meeting with his sister after his father. That would take a while, she assumed. They would probably indulge themselves in the same activity as she, so Zhea went to the gardens and visited with Margaery and her grandmother, the Lady Olenna Tyrell.

Margaery, Zhea knew, was still hung up over what occurred nearly a year ago. Zhea avoided looking directly into her eyes, as she was scared to see the emotions she held for her. For Zhea, what they had was a release. She had been pent up since going North, as Dorne was a well of pleasure and warmth–not only from the sun and the wine. In Dorne, Zhea had an abundance of lovers, both male and female, with whom she spent most of her time. Once leaving, the chastity of the north almost suffocated her until she found a new partner. Theon wasn't the only one who enjoyed the company of Ros and stablehands were called that for a second reason.

"The wedding is in a fortnight grandmother. You can't say no to everything."

"Nonesense. My little dears," the matriarch addressed the girls. "Go and speak to the jewlers of King's Landing. Tell them who you are, tell them who sent you. The one who brings me the best necklace will get to keep the next best."

Zhea observed the necklaces herself. She would've been more than happy to end up with either of them, but she supposed that the Tyrells could afford to be choosy with what Margaery wore. She was getting married to the King, after all. Zhea seated herself beside Margaery.

"Perhaps, I should let Joffrey choose it for me. End up with a string of dead sparrow heads around my neck," Margaery joked wanly.

"You watch that. Even here, even with me." Olenna admonished.

Brienne entered the shade of the pavilion and her arrival was met with an exclamation and awe from Olenna Tyrell. Once introductions had been made, Zhea sensed Brienne wished for privacy with the family, being their son's ex-Kingsguard. Although she had wanted some alone time with Margaery to seal their already ended relationship, Zhea had already left.

The gardens were lively, yet peaceful this time of day. The sun had passed its peak and the shadows were soon to be lengthening, but before it could, couples and handmaidens strolled throughout the flowers. Some were rushing from one place to another, likely on the orders of the queen, and others were enjoying a day off, knowing they would end up like the running girls tomorrow. Zhea was enjoying smelling the fresh air (rare in this city) and had gotten lost in trying to identify a single flower she recognized when she heard the ocean.

The sound of metal unsheathing startled her out of her trance and she quickly realized where she was.

"You scared me there for a second," Bronn said casually, resheathing his blade. "You're lucky I'm not an archer."

Zhea didn't respond as her attention had been captured by the waves crashing against the rocks.

"Not sure what you're looking for, but I doubt you'll find it at the bottom of the bay." Bronn was a rough guy. He spoke and acted without care and he made jokes that were distasteful, but Zhea found this behavior refreshing in the cautiously witty face of politicians. She knew Tyrion had appreciated his company, but they never had any time to speak.

Zhea sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the platform, bumping them into the rocks below. Her legs were sure to be covered in seaspray by the time she got up, but it was cooling her.

"Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, I thought you were with Tyrion welcoming the Dornish to town," Zhea said.

"I was, but the Prince of Dorne doesn't like to be interrupted from his fucking, so we canceled the tour." Bronn shrugged and sat down loudly next to her.

"How graphic." Zhea stared at the sea wistfully imagining the beautiful ships in the harbor were hers.

"So, what's your deal? I mean you're constantly around that twat–the one who fucks his sister. Are you two fucking too? How does it work with the whole, one hand?"

Zhea laughed, but it felt like a thorn in her heart. "Nope. He's still in love with that cold bitch. I think I'm at a disadvantage not being related to him."

Bronn made a noise that could be considered a laugh and fingered the blade on his hip. "If you're ever in need of company while in town, I'm more than willing to help."

Zhea struggled to swallow the lump in her throat and stood up. "Thanks, but I think I'm okay."

"I'm just saying, since Ser Kingslayer is a bit busy–are you still living together? Really? Sounds like you're getting the shit end of the stick," Bronn followed her up the stairs.

Zhea ignored him. He was interesting, but Bronn was best enjoyed in moderation. His brutal honesty was only refreshing for so long, and he gave her a lot to think about. She had basically admitted to having feelings for Jaime, something she just realized today, to a sellsword, so she had to piss or get off the pot. Sooner or later Tyrion would find out, and if he did so would Jaime, and she didn't know how to handle that.

"Well, Cersei hates me now. I know that for certain. How was your day?" Jaime entered their room spectacularly, slamming open the door, and ripping his sword off before struggling with his chest plate.

"You have a… hand now." Zhea mused from her spot on the daybed. "How… golden. Come here, let me see it." She held out her hand so Jaime could set his new one into the palm. Tracing her fingers over the delicate designs, she scowled at it. "It's heavy. Is it not annoying?"

"A little, but it's better than the stub." Jaime admitted.

Zhea rolled back his sleeve and started undoing the ties that held the hand in place. "We'll need to get up earlier if you want to get this hand on in time for your morning shift," she joked lightly.

Jaime sighed as he was relieved of the prosthetic. "Today was rough. My father gave me this sword today, before he disowned me." He picked it up and handed it to her. "Valyrian steel. I'm nearly positive he melted down Ned Stark's sword to make them."

Zhea stopped herself from grabbing it. He set it back down onto the table

"Then I went to see Cersei before my shift, and she outright refused me. Rather humiliating. And during planning for the wedding, Ser Meryn questioned my ability to guard the king. Did you know that in the Book of Brothers I hardly take up half a page?"

"I didn't know it existed before now."

"Well, it's pathetic. I'm pathetic. Everyone has been mad at me for one reason or another. Father's mad I won't leave the Kingsguard. Cersei's mad I got captured. Brienne's upset at me because I won't kidnap my new sister-in-law and send her North."

Zhea lifted the final piece of equipment off his body with his help and set it aside for the squire to clean. She ran a hand through his hair as he pressed his fingers to his nose to pinch the bridge.

"It's exhausting being me." He peaked at her through his fingers. "How was your day?"

"I saw Oberyn today, and while I was there, two girls got to experience my own expertise," Zhea tried to lighten the mood as she left to put away the book she was reading. "Bronn and I had a chat after I left Margaery with Brienne."

"Margaery, didn't you two…?"

"Yes, for a bit while I was in her camp. It was never serious though." She grabbed the wine and poured two glasses. "Bronn, however, was interesting."

"My brother has the strangest companions," Jaime cracked a smile and sipped his wine. "So you let the girls touch you?"

"No, but I touched them." Zhea finished off her glass and walked out onto the balcony. Lately, she found that if she kept herself busy she wouldn't let her thoughts drift too close to dangerous territory. Today, the dangerous territory had never been so close.

"Still, an improvement," Jaime called from inside the room. "Soon you'll find someone you'd rather take care of and leave me alone. Seven hells, I'll be lonely when you're gone. I never realized it before, but I've not been by myself in a year." Jaime shook his head in wonderment and sat down on his bed. "I think I'm getting too comfortable around you."

Zhea winced. "Too comfortable? Would you rather I left and moved into my room?"

"No, I wouldn't like that at all."

A smile. "Good."

The next morning, Zhea accompanied Jaime to breakfast with Tyrion. A hassle, she complained the entire time they got ready, to wake up early and get dressed just to traipse through the halls of the castle to eat. Jaime told her she was being silly, and they left after.

Tyrion greeted them brightly at the door, and Zhea smiled gently at Pod.

"Hello, Podrick," Zhea said, standing off to the side with him as Jaime and Tyrion spoke lightheartedly. "How fares you?"

"I've been well. Lord Tyrion treats me good." Podrick Payne spread his pudgy cheeks into a large smile and pulled out Zhea's chair for her.

"Nothing for me, thank you Pod. I'll eat later. I'm never hungry in the mornings," Zhea said before he could drop a link of boar onto her plate.

Jaime just buttered a roll and set it on his plate. He might as well eat it after he struggled through all that, she thought.

"Your new hand, it's nicer than the old one," Tyrion said, vigorously hacking at a link of boar sausage.

"Is it solid gold?" Pod asked. Zhea kicked Jaime under the table after he rolled his eyes at the squire.

"Gilded steel. You're not eating. Why is no one eating?" Tyrion asked, exasperated. "My wife wastes away, my brother starves himself, my–whatever you are to me– avoids every meal."

"I'm not hungry," Jaime said stubbornly.

"You lost a hand, not a stomach." He bit off his fork pointedly. "Try the boar. Cersei can't get enough of it since one killed Robert for her."

Jaime waved Podrick off.

"A toast. To proud Lannister children." Tyrion raised his glass. "The dwarf, the cripple, and the mother of madness. May Zhea soon join our ranks."

Jaime leaned forward to join the toast, but his hand knocked over his cup of wine, and it spilled all over.

"I'll clean it up–" Podrick offered.

"No, I'll do it. Leave us." Jaime irritatedly picked up the glass he spilled and set it right side up.

Tyrion blasély poured his own glass over the table. "It's only wine," he declared, going over and refilling Jaime's cup.

"I can't fight anymore," Jaime admitted.

"What about your left?"

"I can hold a sword, but all my instincts are wrong. How can I protect the king when I can hardly wipe my own ass. Zhea helps me every morning and night with my armor."

"You'll adjust," Zhea told him.

"You're the Lord Commander now. Command. Let others do the fighting. When was the last time Father held a sword?"

"I'm not Father. I'm the Kingslayer. When people find out I can't slay a pigeon–"

"Train then," Zhea butt in. "Learn to fight with your other hand."

"With whom? You don't use a sword–you haven't trained since we got here. Men talk. Soon as someone discovers I can't fight he'll tell everyone."

"You need a proper discreet swordsman," Tyrion said, leaning back in his chair contemplatively. "As it happens I have just the one."

"Can I go too?" Zhea asked. "Jaime's right. I've done nothing productive since we arrived. I need to get back my strength."

"Then eat," Jaime said, pushing his plate towards her.

She rolled her eyes and stood up. Grabbing a towel she began to mop up the spilled wine.

"Don't. The servants can clean that," Tyrion said.

"Wine sets."

Zhea led Jaime to where Bronn was meeting them. She snacked on an apple as they descended the steps she took absentmindedly a day before. With her dart on her belt and only her dagger on her other hip, Zhea was more energized than she had been in a long time. The banter was witty and the day was new.

They waited for a few minutes for Bronn to show up. He came in with a satchel and two swords in a cloth over his shoulder.

"My brother tells me you can keep your mouth shut," Jaime called over the seagulls and waves. "Unusual talent for a sellsword."

"He tells me you shit gold, just like your father." Bronn sat down and untied the bundle, catching the coins Jaime threw deftly. "Pleasure seeing you again, little lady."

"Is this place safe?"

"There's this knight, Leygood, got thunderbolts on his shield. Right here is where I fuck his wife. She's a screamer that one. If they don't hear her they won't hear us."

"That's what you were doing yesterday," Zhea realized.

"Yup. I've never seen Valyrian steel before. She's a beauty. Problem is, if you fight with an edged blade, I'll have to. And if I fight with an edged blade, I'll have no one left to pay me."

"I haven't used a sparring sword since I was nine," Jaime grumbled, going to pick up the one Bronn left. Zhea leaned back on the rocks, trying to decide if she was going to go for a dip while they spared or take a nap.

The clashing of steel provided some background noise as Zhea stripped out of her dress and waded into the waters. It was harsh and difficult to stand up in, but Zhea dove out into the waters and held her own against the strong tide. She dove under the water where it was calm and tried to see the ocean life, but the bay was too cloudy to see.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" she heard Bronn say as she climbed out of the water. Jaime didn't respond, but he launched himself at the warrior a bit stronger than before.

"You aren't tired yet, are you?" Zhea asked cockily as she swung her rope dart around her body fluidly. Her dress clung to her damp body.

"Nope. He's not much competition anymore," Bronn said, swinging his sword.

It was Jaime's turn to sit out as Zhea launched the dart at him and pulled it back. She repeated this movement a few times, letting the metal point graze Bronn's cheek.

"Watch it," he snapped, grabbing the dart.

"Do you want me to kiss it better?" mocked Zhea pulling the dart out of his hands. He jerked forward a bit at the motion but remained upright.

"Only if you want."

Zhea unsheathed the black steel dagger from her hip and approached Bronn while keeping the dart swinging around her body. She threw it between his legs and snapped her arm back, watching as it wound itself around his ankle. Bronn toppled over at Zhea's will and groaned as she pounced forward pointing her blade at his neck.

"Gotcha," she said, skidding on her knees and gracefully standing.

"That's a new one."

Margaery

Her ambitions won against her desires. She knew that, in the long run, once she became the queen she would never be unhappy. Margaery wouldn't make Cersei's mistake; she would use her powers to strengthen her house and her children. But seeing Zhea every day was painful. What was just a casual fling to Zhea was the beginnings of love to Margaery. Yes, love, and she hated admitting it to herself.

Love? She was in more pain than she needed to be. If she could just fall out of it, then she would be content. Being married to Joffrey, she wouldn't be happy until he left her alone, but at least she wouldn't be longing for another.

If anything, Zhea was in love with Jaime Lannister. Margaery didn't know when that happened. The woman never mentioned Jaime when they were together, but there was a look in her eyes. In the time they had been apart, something changed. Zhea had opened herself to another, and she closed herself off to the world. Margaery knew what love looked like after being around Renly and Loras for so long. She just wished it was more convenient for her.

note: i've had these last four chapters written for months but they were only up on ao3 since I got more traffic there. if you guys are still reading this lmk so i can keep updating both