"I bet you're pleased," Jaime said bitterly after she'd left, his sense of helplessness to strong to hide behind a cool demeanor. What would it matter anyway? 

"I'm not," you replied emotionlessly. "I want you to go home and see your family. I want this stupid war to end and I want everyone to just go home."

"Get your brother to swear fealty, and that will be the case."

You laughed. "You know as well as I do that that will never happen, Lannister. Robb isn't surrendering, and neither is the Iron Throne."

"So here we are," Jaime sighed. 

"Here we are," you agreed. "It would be nice to not be here, wouldn't it? Sail to Brravos, buy a place to live and just ignore the war. Let them play their game of thrones and be done with it."

"A pretty dream. And an unrealistic one."

Silence took place once again, and you felt your fever worsening as night time grew near. Tona only came to check on you both one last time that night, to make sure you were both as comfortable as could be and that you didn't need anything. You shakily assured her that she could go to bed, and thanked her for her wonderful care that day. Even though you began to be more and more ill as the night grew, she seemed more concerned about Jaime, whose injuries she deemed necessary to re-dress. She told you again that your fever would break sometime in the night, and that you would just need to sweat it out. She left you once more a short time later, and you didn't see her again that evening.

Although you had almost all the blankets in that dresser, you were still freezing. You shivered and trembled and rubbed your hands together, sweating all the same. The air cut your lungs if you inhaled too deeply. The moon slowly rose in the black sky, smoky and mysterious behind a veil of misty clouds. The room was silent, except for Jaime's labored breathing and your incessant cough. The shadows were barely audible in the pressing darkness, but if you stared for long enough, you could begin to make out shapes. Only the finest sliver of moonlight was able to fight its way through the narrow windows, but you enjoyed watching the pale little light shift and change. You couldn't sleep, not with this frozen feeling in your bones and the trembling of your body. Jaime tossed and turned in his restless sleep, kicking the blankets to the floor. You wanted those blankets, if he wasn't using them. At the same time, you wanted to put Jaime back under them. He was naked to the waist with his chest exposed to the cold in full, miserable glory. Just looking at his bare skin exposed to the air made you shiver harder. 

It must have been somewhere around midnight when you decided you couldn't possibly endure one more second of watching the moonlight coming in through the window. 

"Jaime," you called out softly. He was awake, evidently, for he answered almost immediately. 

"Yes?"

"I'm cold," was all you could think to say, your voice barely above a whisper. You honestly hadn't thought he'd answer you.

"I'm hot," was his matter-of-fact response. 

"Jaime," you repeated, feeling like you might cry. "I don't think. . . I don't think I can. . ."

He turned over to look at you, though that was a chore and a half due to the darkness, and the excessively copious amount of blankets you were under. "Come here, if you can."

"I don't know if I can. . . I just. . ."

"Just try." He voice was soothing and gentle. Your trembling hands shoved away your worthless blankets, and you kicked your legs over the side of the bed. Your trembling only worsened when you stood to your feet, and felt the cold bite of the night air chew on your skin. You crossed the room slowly, sweating, struggling. When you arrived at Jaime's bedside, you grabbed the blankets he had let fall to the floor. He grabbed your wrists, pulling you on to the bed with him, wrapping his arms around you as you tossed the blankets over your bodies. His skin was warm against yours, and it felt so welcome you gasped sharply, pressing your body as close to his as physics would allow. His hands hooked under your shirt, lifting it slowly. You mindlessly helped him shrug you out of it until it come up over your head and was discarded to the floor. 

You pressed your stomach to his, your bare breasts against his chest. Every surface where your skin made contact was a relief, and your trembling soon subsided to this newfound comfort. His left hand rested on the small of your back and your faces were dangerously close together. You moved closer into his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder. His hand moved slowly up and down a few inches on your back, tracing gentle patterns on your skin as you both slowly drifted to sleep.

● ● ● ●

Your fever broke in the night, and you woke up feeling mildly like you'd been beaten with a stick. You hadn't opened your eyes yet. You were enjoying the blissful warmth of the blankets, and the strong arms that held you. Suddenly, you remembered you were completely topless, and that ruined the soft contentment you had been feeling. You opened your eyes slowly; looking to see how much was visible. The blanket clung to your shoulders, making useful cover, but you could feel your chest pressed up against Jaime's under it. You looked up to his sleeping face. His hair fell into his eyes loosely, and he looked peaceful and relaxed and gorgeous. Your stomach jumped uncontrollably. 

Gods be good, I am not feeling this right now. But you were. Every spot where your bare skin met was alight with a curious heat you had never felt before. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before reopening them. How do I get clothes? You thought desperately. Your shirt had been thrown to the floor, you remembered. You couldn't get to it without waking him, and if he woke up he would see you, and you didn't think you could stomach that. But if you did nothing, he would still wake up and see you eventually. You could just move quickly and wraped yourself up in a blanket, but that would leave him freezing and you didn't want that. It had been you who had needed him last night, and he had been shockingly kind and sensitive. Incredibly sensitive. . . His touch was so strong and gentle. . .

Laying there in a torturous paradox, the decision was made for you when Jaime inhaled deeply and opened his eyes. You didn't move, pursing your lips together as you waited for him to do or say something. 

"Good morning," he muttered, taking his arm away from you to rub his eye.

"I need my shirt," you whispered in a strangled voice, turning a violent shade of red. Jaime looked positively befuddled. 

"I think it's on the floor here." He leaned over off the bed and reached down to pick up the intended garment, moving away from you. You snatched at the blankets, pulling them quickly to your chest and holding them there firmly. When Jaime handed you your shirt, you both froze, looking at each other. Jaime didn't change a shade, but you made up for him with the ever brighter crimson color of your cheeks.

"Close your eyes," you commanded, refusing to let the blanket fall away so you could use both hands to put your shirt on. 

"Really?" Jaime asked in surprise. "Close my eyes? I've seen plenty of naked women before, you know."

"Yes, to be sure, that's very nice but you're not going to see this naked woman. Close your eyes!"

He sighed deeply and made a show about rolling his eyes dramatically before closing them. Jaime peeked though. He was boyishly curious about what you were sporting under your unbecoming armor and man's cloths. He was not disappointed. You had one of the finest bodies he had ever had the chance to look at, and your hips and back were almost as beautiful as your chest. He had to fight to keep from biting his bottom lip.

You pulled the shirt down, covering yourself up to your satisfaction. The cloth of the shirt felt icy cold, so you immediately dove back under the covers to warm yourself up again. Jaime opened his eyes and laughed at you. You pushed your back into his chest to absorb his warmth, making him yelp and the chill of your shirt. 

"I liked you better topless," he stated, easing slightly as the article of clothing warmed. 

"I bet you did," you sneered, turning to face him. "You seem to be feeling better; I thought Tona said your fever would last longer?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I feel much better than I did last night."

"Good, then we will set off soon and find out where in Seven Hells we are, and then make our way to Robb."

"You mean to King's Landing." Jaime winked at you.

"I mean to Robb."

"That can't be right, because we are going to King's Landing."

"Fuck you, Kingslayer, we go to Robb."

"I thought you agreed to call me Jaime?"

"On the condition that you don't be a little shit. Hold up your end, I'll hold up mine."

"How can I make you see that King's Landing is clearly the better option?" He snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. You looked him in his eyes, which were staring back at you with intensity. A tension filled the air quickly, and you suddenly could think of nothing you wanted more than to press your lips against his. The notion startled you, and you broke eye contact with a muffled gasp. 

"You sure can be shy, for someone who appears so indifferent," Jaime commented, a satisfied smirk on his pretty face. "Do I make you nervous?"

"Of course not," you exclaimed defensively, pulling out of his grasp. "You don't make me. . . You could never. . ."

Jaime's smile grew wider, and you realized sickeningly that he knew exactly what you were unwillingly feeling. "I could never what, Your Grace? I could never make you. . . ?" He touched your stomach so softly it was only his fingertips that brushed contact, just below your breasts. Your mouth fell open as your body shuddered, wanting so much more. Your eyes met his once again. Those green orbs were filled with mischievous arrogance. You jumped up out of the blankets, out of the bed, feeling horrified. You didn't notice the cold, or anything. Only that your body had betrayed you in wanting the Kingslayer, and the Kingslayer knew it, from his smug expression. You had never wanted anyone before--been with anyone before!--and this new feeling was unwelcome. 

"Where are you going?" He wondered. "Things were getting interesting."

"You filthy son of a whore," you spat unfairly. "I hope you rot in the deepest of the Seven Hells, you fucking cunt."

Jaime's eyes widened. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again and said, "I am honestly very confused right now. I thought you wanted. . . If I've offended you I'm very sorry."

You fled the room, covering your face before he could see your blush. It wasn't his fault, was it? It didn't matter. He was your prisoner. 

You found your cloths laid out for you in another room, and pulled on your riding breeches and undershirt, stuffing your feet in your boots before throwing on your tunic and going downstairs to find your sword. You were leaving back to Robb this morning, you decided. The sooner you didn't have to deal with Jaime Lannister the better. You felt very uncomfortable with the sudden feelings that were starting to make themselves awkwardly prominent. 

Tona made a huge fuss about your decision to depart, but you were firm about the matter. Once you got your sword back from the boy who had taken it from you when you arrived, you took a deep breath at the foot of the stairs to ground yourself before ascending. 

Jaime's clothes were cleaned, and in the same spot yours had been; on a small table next to the water basin up stairs. You grabbed them before marching purposefully into the bedroom you had slept in the last two days. 

"Get dressed," you commanded, tossing the Kingslayer his clothing. "We are leaving today, as soon as possible."

For a moment, you actually thought Jaime would argue with you. He looked as though he wanted to ask a great deal of questions, but found the voice for none of them. You stared at each other for a few seconds before Jaime made to slowly do as you bid him, sliding his shirt over his head and gingerly helping his lame arm into the sleeve. "I see you were the first to the sword," he muttered solemnly. 

"That's right. We go north."

"The tables could yet turn."

You didn't dignify the retorted with a response. Half of you wanted to ask how? The other half didn't want to know. 

You went to the bed you had made use of and folded all the spare blankets you had used, putting them away in the top shelf of the dresser. By then, Jaime was appropriately garbed and groping for his boots, which were on the floor by his feet. You sat down and stared at his hands unseeingly, dazed. You could feel the after effects of your fever making you tired, slightly dizzy even. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, drawing strength. 

Tona sent you off with food and water aplenty, and insisted on re-dressing Jaime's wounds one last time before you saddled. "It's very dangerous out there, especially now," she said. "wounds will get infections if you don't treat them properly." So she treated the hell out of it while Jaime sat patiently, concentrating on keeping still and quiet. When Tona removed the old bandaging you were pleased to see the wounds were beginning to heal. The kind woman gave you a small amount of the white creamy disinfectant she was using so you could keep it applied for a few more days until you reached wherever it is you were going. 

When you finally escaped, it was mid-morning, and the sun was clearing away the fog. You and Jaime rode in silence for a time, both of you tired with to much on your mind to think about. 

North, you thought like a broken record. North. Go north. Go to Robb. North. Go to Robb.

Of course, you would have to make a wide circle to be sure not to run into the unpleasant little bandits you had encountered on your first trek.

The day dragged by, and you followed the road for a long time. Dusk was almost ready to cast its shadow when a small town came into view from up ahead. If they had an inn, you would stop there tonight and sleep in feathered beds. 

As Jaime regained strength, you became more and wearier of having him out of chains. Being a prisoner wasn't something he intended to make a habit of; he had made that very clear. It was only a matter of time before he tried something. 

What that something might be, you had every suspicion. 

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