The Lions and the Wolves

Chapter 13: Facing Truths

On the other side of the door, Sam was doing his best to stand his ground before the ferocity in human flesh that was Brienne. She wasn't hearing a word he had to say.

"I am not a babysitter." She purred ferociously. "I am a knight and my duty is in King's Landing!"

"Yes, I understand that, truly I do but Jon has made his orders clear. He wants you here, standing guard until his next set of instructions are issued." His words were stammered and stuttered nervously as he gazed up at her. She was irate. The pull in her brow only further exaggerating her growing rage. Her lips thinned and stretched, trying to hold her tongue behind her teeth. She knew this had nothing to do with Sam and he was simply a messenger but she needed an outlet for her fury.

"What use am I here, guarding-"

Her sentence was interrupted with a loud and urgent banging, the door they'd left through was rattling against its hinges. The handle clanging with each pounding of his joined fists on the other side of the hard wood. His muffled yells could be heard but they were indecipherable, causing the pair to re-enter as fast as possible. Brienne wasn't risking the possibility of a set-up and burst in with her hand on the hilt of her blade at the ready but they were confronted with the sight of Cersei holding herself gingerly against the edge of the table. Immediately the pair understood what could be happening. Brienne's initial reaction was that of pure guilt, her face relaxing almost instantly at the sight whereas Sam was straight away feeling for her. Gilly was so close to birthing his own child, he couldn't imagine a pain more terrible than this.

Alas, they knew nothing for certain yet.

Quicker than either of the twins could comprehend they were separated and taken in opposite directions. Brienne - very reluctantly - had to escort Jaime to their chambers and understandably, she was furious. They were prisoners, not guests. Why in the gods names were they being put up in a lavishly decorated part of the castle? Remaining with an extremely silent and wary Cersei, Sam had ushered her into the adjoining room to examine her to the best of his ability. He hadn't had much experience at all with pregnant women, aside from Gilly and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't apprehensive, especially given who the pregnant woman in question was. It was warm and cosy within the four walls, a fire burning to the side whilst Cersei perched herself delicately on the edge of the single bed that sat in the centre of the main wall, trying to asses the amount of blood she was losing for herself. Underfoot there was a large, dark brown fur only adding to the warmth of the space. It smelled like old books and medicine, not at all horrendous but still a strangely unnerving mixture of scents. Knowledge and healing. The instant Sam had cut the rope holding her wrists together before leading her into the small room, she'd pulled her hands to her chest. Holding them close to herself trying to soothe away the soreness as she gently rubbed them. The bindings had almost become embedded in her skin, caked with mud and dirt from earlier this morning.

"Are you in any pain at all?" He queried, an anxious wobble to his voice as he finally re-approached her with a tray of instruments in one hand and a bowl of warm water in the other. He didn't really need to ask, he could tell by the way she was holding herself that she was experiencing some amount of discomfort. Hunched as though she couldn't sit up straight, her fingers still delicately smoothing over the angered flesh on her forearms. He silently noted that there were all manner of marks and bruises on her. The more noticeable ones on her neck and he could just make out the ones on her wrists too. He could tell they weren't from today. She left a long pause after he asked her the question before she slowly nodded, avoiding his gaze. "And the bleed, do you think it's stopped? Or does it feel as though it's still going?" Her eyes followed him nervously as he piled his equipment down and grabbed a cloth to go with the bowl. The moment he turned to face her she could feel herself recoiling mentally. Physically she remained still, she hadn't flinched in the presence of Jon Snow, nor the boy Jaime nearly killed. She wouldn't cringe before this man either. Her gaze continued to follow his hands as he set the bowl and cloth on a tray and placed it on the bed beside her.