Janna breathed out, in a long sigh of pleasure, as he leaned his head down, kissing her sweat dampened forehead. Her legs were wrapped over the small of his back, as he went to pull out she clamped them on him, her eyes opening to look up at him "stay Jamie, stay in me..."
"Of course" he replied, letting his best smile come to his lips, resting on his elbows he moved his hands to cup Janna's head, gently stroking at her hair and her face.
His wife, he laughed in his head, 'wife', now there was a word he thought he would never say in his life, smiled back up at him, her eyes slightly unfocused, her face slack and tired looking, but with a sheen of pleasure across it. He held Janna's dark eyes, eye's so unlike the one's he was used to gazing into, and wondered what he saw there, and what did Janna see in his eyes?
Did she see love? Unlikely, and if she did he was playing this murmerers farce with a skill that he doubted that he had. And Janna was in no way a fool, of that he was sure, she did take after her mother as his father had hoped. On the long journey along the Goldroad he had come to know something of his new wife, she had a sharp wit and a fine mind, with a memory that seemed to be able to recall odd facts and figures that he would never have remembered. His uncle Kevan had several bulging pouches of reports and documents for him to read during the journey back to Casterly Rock, he had despaired of reading them, Janna had offered to read them in his stead. Not telling uncle Kevan he had allowed Janna to read them and give him a condensed version of what he was supposed to have read. Thus thanks to Janna he knew enough so that when uncle Kevan had come to question him and ask his opinions, no doubt at the direct instruction of his father, he was able to answer these with some conviction.
And what did he see in her eyes, beyond a satisfied and sated woman? Love? No, not that, despite them having sated each other many a time. Respect? He could not say. Friendship? Maybe, and maybe that was enough for him.
It was certainly enough for the physical aspect of this marriage, a fact that had rather surprised him, and though he had tried not to dwell on it for they brought back memories that were still painful, raw. But he could not stop his mind it seemed – images of Cersei moaning and shuddering under his touch, of her golden mane flying about her head as he pummelled her with himself, of her whispering into his ear afterwards, kissing his face and neck with tiny little touches and licks of her tongue.
He pulled out of Janna, using his strength to break the lock of her legs, hearing a little snort of frustration from her as he plopped free. He rolled off their bed and went to a stand, pouring himself and Janna a cup of well watered wine, returning to the bed he handed her a glass, he stood to the side of the bed, drinking his and letting his gaze seem of rove over Janna's naked form.
Janna smiled back at him over the rim of her cup, then placed it down on the night stand and went to pull on a nightdress.
"Don't" he said "I prefer to see you naked" he lied, a slight disgust twisting inside of him as Janna's face twisted into a radiant smile and she lay back down on the bed, arching an eyebrow at him.
"Much as I would like to rejoin my good lady wife" he said, reaching out with a hand to pull back a curtain, the sky was a pale blue blur in the east "I'm afraid that I have to get up, the duties of a Lord Paramount in waiting are never done" he said in his best ironic voice.
Janna mock pouted at him, before saying "Lord Kevan is working you hard, my Lord husband?"
"Aye he is, and its Jamie when we are alone...Janna..." He hated his titles, hated the bowing and scraping, hated the vast, echoing bulk of Casterly Rock with its gold and gilt, its servants scurrying about, and everywhere lions, lions and more fucking lions. He had grown up here, but returning to it had been terrible, every day on the Goldroad as they got closer had been a torture, when he had finally passed beneath the Lions Gate, it had been like strolling beneath the headsmans axe.
He sighed and let the curtain swing back closed, first to the training yards, to work off some of his frustrations. Hah! Frustrations! He scowled as he turned from the bed and made his way across the vast room, it's every surface seeming to drip with gold, crimson or Lannister lions and into his dressing room. A basin of water and a towel was waiting for him; he gave his naked body a quick rub down with the towel dipped in the water. He liked the shock of the cool water against his still heated skin.
There were no servants about; his time in the Kingsguard had made him much more reliant on himself when it came to matters like dressing and the such like. He opened a wardrobe; actually a small room would be a more accurate description and grabbed his training gear, quickly pulling on the clothes, simple linen trousers, a simple shirt and a jerkin, thankfully none of them sporting even a hint of gold or crimson.
Leaving his quarters, two Red Cloaks dropped in behind him as he made his way down the great wide stairways that so characterised the living quarters of Casterly Rock, until he made it to one of the training yards.
Jamie grinned, for the next hour or two he did not need to concern himself with reading letters, dealing with petitions, checking accounts, reviewing reports from the seemingly pervasive network of spies that his father had strewn across the Westerland's, Westeros and Essos.
Emerging onto the training yard he began his warm-up routines before donning a gambeson and then selecting a training sword and shield, nodding to his first opponent.
