A Vow Without Honor

The She-Wolf

Jaime

When he woke that morning, he was alone. As it turned out, Myra was just outside the cabin, tending to the horses, but Jaime could not deny the hint of disappointment that nestled in the bottom of his stomach.

She had greeted him with a smile and a small jest about him sleeping the morning away, but they had not spoken since, choosing to ride in silence.

To be honest, he wasn't certain what to say. He half thought he'd dreamed the previous night, but every time he caught Myra's eye, there was a look in those dark irises that had definitely not been there the day before, or any other day. He couldn't place it, and honestly had been debating it for much of the afternoon. Jaime knew anger, hatred, disgust, all the terrible things people felt toward him, which was certainly notwhat she was looking at him with.

Gods, he was fretting over it like some damned little boy. It was pathetic.

But he also couldn't help himself. He'd told the story once, and to only one person. Tyrion had found him the night of Robert and Cersei's wedding, when he'd finally been allowed to drink himself into a stupor. The things he had done mixed with his sister's refusal to see him for a fortnight leading up to the ceremony had left him in a terrible state, and the alcohol had only served to aggravate it. Tyrion got the tale he had more or less given Myra, though a little more slurred and a little less kind. When his brother offered to tell their father the next day, it had resulted in one of those rare moments when he actually got angry with him.

They hadn't spoken of it since.

The point was, Jaime did not know where to go from here. Was Myra going to keep silent about it or ask him more? He wasn't sure he could handle more.

He wasn't sure of a lot of things these days.

As his mind continued to wander in circles over the woman beside him, Myra began to fidget in her saddle. He noticed her glancing his way now and again, debating, but didn't have the willpower to meet her gaze, until she cleared her throat.

"Tell me about Casterly Rock."

The look he gave her must have been a ridiculous one, because she bit her lip to keep herself from smiling.

"Why?" he asked.

"It seems to me that there is a very distinct possibility that I may end up there," she replied, looking back to her hands. "And I thought that...oh, I don't know. I just don't want silence anymore. It makes me think too much."

He supposed it could have been worse. She could have brought Aerys back up, but he should have known better by now. Myra knew when to avoid things.

Jaime sat back in the saddle, grateful for the distraction. "Not sure I'd know where to start."

Gods, he couldn't even remember the last time he had been home. It couldn't have been before Robert's Rebellion, could it? No, there had been the Lannisport tourney after they had defeated the Greyjoys. He'd almost won the whole thing, but Robert had given the prize to some man just knighted. Ser Jorah was it?

That meant the last time he had stepped in Casterly Rock, Myra Stark had been, what, five years old? Six?

Seven hells, he hoped that groan was inward.

Myra wasn't laughing, so he was either blessed or her acting had improved immeasurably.

"Is it really as large as they say?" she asked, shaking her head as soon as she spoke the words. "That's a...silly question. My sister used to go on and on about how big it was and I never could believe it. It didn't seem right, a structure being that large, but then we came to King's Landing and...well, I started questioning everything."