Chapter Twenty-Eight

A quick note here…around this time last year my father, one of the most amazing men to have ever been born, was acting different. By a few months later, around Thanksgiving (November) he was noticeably becoming ill. By January of this year (2015), his illness was becoming unmanageable. The end of January was when the doctors discovered the tumor. My dad had cared for me my entire life, and now it was time for me to care for him. One of the hardest things to do was to watch him slip away. Fifteen days after finding the tumor and only five days after coming home on hospice, not nearly enough time to come to terms with anything, my father passed away from stage 4 metastatic lung cancer. He was more than just my "dad". He was my rock, a strong male role model for my son and always there for me, no matter what I needed. Tomorrow marks the six month anniversary since he passed. I've not had any motivation to write, let alone do anything but the bare minimum to survive. With that being said, I am going to try and get back into this, but I really make no promises at this point.

Enough of that…onto the chapter!

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Melara could not lift the darkness that had settled upon her head and her heart. Is this not what she had wanted? A brave, strong husband? Children? Jaime's words continued to ring through her mind, the teasing words questioning his skills as a lover. Melara could only feel worse, knowing that Jaime would blame himself for her listless state. She should not be upset with him, but her mind would not stop blaming him for the path her life had taken. But shouldn't she be praising him for giving her just what she had always dreamed of? But it seemed the dream had only been a nightmare.

She brought her hands up to rub her crusted eyes, the tears had long since dried upon her cheeks. She had not a reason to shed tears for her father, and yet they continued to fall freely each night. Some nights they made camp with Jaime trying to pull her from the depths of darkness, but more often the husband and wife found themselves traveling straight through the quiet night. And this became their routine until Melara recognized the sigil of Petyr Baelish.

"Jaime, where have you been leading us?"

"Oh! You've still got a voice then?" Jaime faced his wife, tracing every delicate line he could see. Since being reunited it seemed that Melara was becoming a stranger to him, nearly all of her lightness gone. She had grown from a broken girl into a strong woman, only to be once again shattered since the death of her father. Jaime felt guilt in knowing that everything could have been different if he would have only followed her away from King's Landing. She could have been spared some of the trials that she had endured, and he would have been spared as well. "I had heard rumors that Lady Sansa was sent to the Eyrie."

"The Eyrie? But why does the sigil just there look to be flying the colors of Petyr Baelish?"

"I've no idea. But all the better if Baelish is there. He will tell us news from King's Landing while you rest."

"I want a home, Jaime." The admission did not surprise Jaime. Melara had made it clear many times that she did not want to live her life out of the back of a wagon. "If we do find Lord Baelish, he will sell us out to the highest amount of coin, no matter what palm holds the coin, and lock us away until your father, your sister, or Robb come riding to the gates. We cannot go to the Eyrie. I will not."

Jaime remained silent, knowing that Melara had shifted from her sadness to the anger that rivaled her Uncle Robert's. It was moments like this, with her eyes hard and her body tense, that Jaime could not help but love her more. She did not need to raise her voice or destroy rooms to show her rage. So unlike Cersei. His wife seemed more to remind him of Lady Stark, so poised even as fury burned within. He knew that Melara would stand her ground, but Jaime would also stand his.

"Sweet Wife, you will have your home. Our sons will not be raised from a wagon. Trust me."

"Damn it, Jaime! How can you continue to tell me to trust you. My blind and foolish trust in you is what has brought us here." Melara motioned between their dirtied clothes and disheveled hair. "If I did not trust you, none of this would have happened! You would be off somewhere fighting against the family that raised me and I—."

"And you? Where would you be? Locked away like a fragile doll. You would have stayed in Winterfell and been married off to Robb Stark and yet here you are. Stuck with the Kingslayer, burdened with his children and unable to trust him." Jaime let his tears slowly fall from his eyes, refusing to wipe them away. Melara's eyes became locked on the droplets, following their path from his eyes, down over his cheeks and rest upon his chin. "I won't fight you, Wife. I will not force you if you will not travel to the Eyrie. I will find you a home, be it castle, keep or even built from this damn wagon, if that is what it takes to lift the darkness from you."

"I don't think it's that simple, Jaime."

"Nothing is simple, Melara. Not when you carry the name Lannister."

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Melara remained quiet for the remainder of the day. They did not continue their travel towards the Eyrie, but they had yet to travel in another direction either. Ryam and Joseth were content to just lay near their mother, their little necks trying hard to support their heads. Watching her sons, the creations that Jaime's love had given her, Melara felt as if she had been hit in her stomach. For a moment the young woman thought that something had happened to her body, but after checking the scar on her stomach, she found nothing physically to be wrong. It took only a moment for her to realize that it was guilt that she was feeling.

The feeling was made stronger as she watched Jaime continually scanning their surroundings, ever the protector that he was. She relived their argument earlier, the hurtful words that she had thrown at him. In their recent travels, if she wasn't crying then she was yelling at Jaime or not speaking to him at all. He had every right to just leave her there, stranded, helpless and alone. And yet, he stuck to her. He asked for nothing but her trust and in return Melara not only refused to trust him, but demanded more. He was the one who had kept them alive this far, and she had done nothing but fight him at each decision he made. She remembered Catelyn always standing by Ned's side, she vaguely remembered her mother standing by her father's side. It seemed a good wife should not act as she had. Cersei was not a good wife to my uncle, and even she stood near Robert during his womanizing and drinking.

Ensuring the safety of her children before extracting herself from them, Melara shed her outer cloak. There was not much need for it, as the sun was high and hot compared to the snows of the North. Her dress was hardly flattering, and her skin was no longer tight or smooth against her body. She slid down from the wagon, her body popping and cracking when before she would have moved with grace and silence. Ignoring her insecurities, Melara made her way over to where her husband stood near the side of their wagon. He eyed her with suspicion but Jaime remained silent as Melara came to stand next to him. Facing him fully, Melara entwined the fingers of both of their hands together.

"Jaime?" Melara tried to make her voice soft, yet firm. She wanted her husband's attention but did not want to start another fight. "I…I said terrible things earlier that I should not have. I just…am dark. I want to cry but I want to scream. Both at the same time, really. I have never felt this much anger towards anyone."

"Why are you angry with me?"

"Oh, Jaime. I'm not. I'm angry with my father and my mother and that damn Witch and your sister and everyone who has kept us apart or driven our lives or controlled us."

"Your list includes the names of nearly all of Westeros." Jaime let an easy smirk fall upon his lips, one that he had not worn for weeks. His wife's shoulders lost some of their tension, but she still stood before him with a pained look in her eyes.

"But not yours. Please, Jaime. Forgive me?" Melara leaned her body towards Jaime, her grip tightening on his hands. She tried to match his easy look, but was sure that it came off as more of a scowl than a smirk.

"Melara, you have my heart and my forgiveness." Jaime placed his forehead against Melara's, allowing them to stand with each other in a moment of silence. He spoke again, his voice lowered to a whisper for fear of breaking the calmness that had settled around them. "But…I cannot continue on this way. Never knowing if it is my loving wife by my side or if once glance will cause your tears to start. There will be a time to fight and a time to grieve and anything you dream of doing. But now is not the time. Do you understand?" He pulled away slightly, placing a soft kiss to Melara's forehead before fully straightening his body.

"I understand. We've more important matters right now. Safety of our sons and ourselves does have a high priority than my uncontrollable emotions." Melara brought their joined hands behind her back, pulling Jaime's body flush against hers. She tilted her head and brought their lips close, their breathing becoming intertwined. Jaime made a move closer, his intention clear, but Melara pulled back to put distance between their lips once more. "If Lord Baelish sells us out or betrays us in any way…"

"You have my permission to gloat while we are locked away."

"I was more hoping you'd say something along the lines of allowing me a swing or two at his smug face before you rightfully put that evil, conniving rat in his place."

"You forget, Sweet Girl, that rat is the reason my father thought our union to be in everyone's best interest."

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Melara fought the urge to grind her teeth as she was escorted away from the main reception hall, and away from Petyr and Jaime. The guards on either side of her remained silent, but she knew they had heard their Lord's comments about her appearance. 'Oh, My Lady. Traveling and childbearing have not treated you well.' Melara did grind her teeth them, hearing his mockingly sweet voice in her head. Her dress has been torn and sewn multiple times, the color nearly indistinguishable, but at least she had found a stream in which to wash. True, she did not look her station as a Lady, but who was he to mention it? She nearly growled at her escorts but remained silent, as both of her sons had slept through the entire exchange in the reception hall. She carried Riam on her back and Joseth in her arms, refusing to let them from her sight within the same walls as Baelish. She would not readily give him an opportunity to betray her or Jaime.

The halls that she walked seemed to be gloomy and cold, despite the torches having already been lit. It reminded her of the way that the halls of Winterfell had felt while occupied by her father and his men. It was as if the structures knew when imposters commanded its people, causing a somber mood. Melara could not wait to be away from Eyrie, and the Vale for that matter. They were no safer within the walls of the keep than they were traveling outside. Melara had become familiar with the dangers of traveling and had almost come to prefer them to the surprises that could be behind any turn when walking the halls of a Lord's Keep.

At least, she thought she preferred the dangers until a surprise rounded the corner. A surprise in the form of a familiar face with dark hair and blue eyes.

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