They rode for what felt like hours. The dim light of the moon was the only guidance they had along the road. It's a wonder the horses didn't trip and break a leg! Adelia couldn't help the exhaustion that rolled over her body in one long sweep. Once or twice, she felt her muscles go slack as she dozed in and out of consciousness. But she jolted awake as soon as she felt held fall back into Jaime's chest.

The last time it happened, Jaime slipped an arm around her waist pulling her back towards him.

"Sleep." His voice was stern and yet there was a strange softness to it. His touch made her more uncomfortable than usual. Perhaps because she could still feel the imprint of her attacker's fingers at her chest. She tried to shift without him noticing, but he was quick to catch on. He dropped his arm.

"I'm not tired." She lied.

"You're tired. And stubborn." He whispered. He sounded tired himself. "And you're hurt." She didn't gratify him with a response, but he continued to speak regardless. "You haven't stopped squirming since we mounted. Which tells you either need to use the restroom or you're uncomfortable."

"I'll manage." She forced the words to be true and tough. But in reality, her leg with the cut had started to throb relentlessly.

"No doubt that you will." He yawned. Bronn and Tyrion were a ways in front of them. She could just make out the silhouette of their horses in the dark. "But the fact still remains, you're exhausted." This time his hand pressed against her shoulder and carefully pulled her backwards. "Sleep."

She listened to him this time, letting her head rest against his collarbone. Her eyes closed and she soaked in all of his body heat. With the dress still lying over her legs, she was as warm as she could hope to be in the freezing cold.

When she woke, it was to Jaime handing her down off the horse into Bronn's waiting arms. They were finally stopping. Jaime must have decided they were far enough away from the threat of danger. When he noticed her open eyes, Bronn set her down on her own feet.

"How long was I asleep?" She asked as she smoothed out her hair.

"Only an hour or so." Jaime groaned as he dismounted. She realized that they were further into the woods than they normal were when they made camp. That must be so that no one passing on the road can see them.

They set the tents up quickly and she crawled into the shelter without a second thought, Jaime following right on her heels. While she had taken in a few extra minutes of sleep, he had not. And that showed on his face. His eyes had dark circles underneath that made his green irises seem more of a muddy brown. His skin was gray and sickly and his movement sluggish.

"Do you plan on freezing tonight?" There was an irritated hint to his voice. She thought carefully about her answer. If she said yes, she'd have to stick to it. Her pride wouldn't let her go back on her words. But saying no also meant something more. It meant that she'd accept sharing a bed, or in this case furs, with him. With the Kingslayer. She could always resume her position in the corner and curl up with the new dress. It would offer some sheild to the cold.

Her mind thought of how warm Jaime's body had felt against hers on the horse. She could have that again. She could have that warmth throughout the night.

Jaime was shaking out the thick furs from the bag. They were gray. Wolfs skin.

"No." She finally whispered. If he was surprised by her answer, he didn't show it. She wasn't even sure that he'd heard her until his eyes met hers for a brief second. He took his time removing his boots and top coat before sliding in under the blanket.

He rolled over and mumbled something before his breaths turned heavy and even. She couldn't be sure but it sounded like "I won't touch you."

She laid down beside him, leaving a good foot of space between their bodies, and pulled the furs over her shivering body.

But she didn't sleep.

Her mind was consumed with thoughts of the men at the Inn. Their stench, their brute strength, their words.

"Someone sent them for me." She said, suddenly remembering. "They'd said they'd been told I was a fighter." She mimicked the man's drawn out words.

"I know." Jaime said into the furs. "But we don't know who, so go to sleep."

"I know who." Her voice was a mere whisper. "Baelish." At first, the Kingslayer said nothing, and again she wasn't sure if he'd heard her. But suddenly he rolled over.

"And what makes you think that?" He asked. The space between them seemed to have disappeared, leaving only a few inches between their noses. The last time his face had been that close to Adelia's, he was threatening her life back at the castle. Did he remember that moment too?

"He tried to take me away once already." She somehow found the words. "He chased me through the castle halls and pricked me with a sleeping drought. When I woke.." she didn't have to continue. He had been there when she woke. He had forced her to show him the Ghost's Kiss. The same mark that Lord Baelish had found on his own. She shuddered.

"Yes," he nodded slowly "I suppose you are right." His eyes stayed on hers. "He wants you for himself."

"He wants me to be queen?" The notion still sounded absurd.

"I don't know what he wants." He shook his head. "He already has my nephew eating out of the palm of his hand. I see no advantage for him in a change of power. Unless it's less about the power and more about, well, you."

Adelia wrinkles her nose in confusion. A common girl? A lowly seamstress? What could anyone want from her?

"Royal blood or not," he paused for a breath "you are very intriguing for a commoner." He explained. It took a few moments for Adelia's innocent mind to catch up.

"He wants me for a wife? For a play thing?" Her voice came out louder than intended. Jaime only raised an eye brow, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "You find this amusing?"

"I find you, and your reactions, amusing." A full smiled graced his usually stoic features. It was hard for Adelia to maintain her anger when she saw it.

"Oh, so I'm both amusing AND intriguing then?" She huffed.

"Yes." He replied without hesitation. She opened her mouth for a retort, but it caught in her throat when she realized that he was complimenting her. His playful smile, now a serious tight line. As if he were angry with himself for his easy agreement.

Mustn't be too kind to the peasants now. She thought in annoyance. And on another huff of air, she rolled away, facing her back to him.

Jaime woke when the first drops of light peirced the tent. Though he did not open his eyes, he could sense that the air around him was fridged. But he was warm under the furs.

He felt the body next to him, and his first instinct was reach towards her. To bring her nearer. To take in the scent of her hair and skin. To let his fingers graze every inch.

And so he did.

His hand calmly came to rest on her side, coaxing her back. It took some encouragement, but even in her sleep she couldn't ignore him. Her body fit into the curve of his so perfectly. He let his hand rest idly on her hip and he took a long breath. She smelled like...lemons... not the rose oil he was so used to.

His eyes shot open. This wasn't Cerscei. This woman next to him was not his.

He roled away, clenching his teeth at his own idiocy. When he looked back, she was starting to stir. He watched her rub her eyes, her hair matted to hell around her round face. Even so early in the morning, she had a light flush on her cheeks.

"Morning." He said gruffly, still trying regain his control.

"Good morning." She said through a yawn. He could tell that her mind wasn't quite awake. Usually she would scurry away, afraid of his close proximity. He watched her eyes bob open and adjust to the sunlight. There was something quite peaceful about her in those short waking moments.

He'd been staring for too long and scrambled for something to say to hide it.

"How do you feel?" He thought of the blood staining the middle of her dress. Bronn had knicked her when he drove the sword though the mans abdomen. Her neck had been cut as well, but it was a small scratch.

"Fine." She lied. He could see it in her dark eyes. The pain was there, and it was not fine.

"We should clean that." He eyes lingered on her stomach. "Or I'd fear infection." His hand automatically raised to the side of her neck with the short line of dried blood. "This, however, seems harmless."

The girl flinched back from his hand and he paused briefly, his hand stranded in midair. But when she showed no signs of retreating any further, he allowed his fingers to touch the side of her neck, just above the blood. He left them there, against the soft, warm skin underneath. Her eyes shifted downward to her lap. Was she fearful, or embarrassed by the touch?

"Once you're at the Wall, no one can hurt you." He said firmly. Finally, she met his gaze. Her own hand came up to wrap gently around her forearm, pulling his hand from her face.

"Except for anyone at the Wall." She pushed herself up onto her feet and left him sitting alone in the middle of tent. His arm on fire from her touch.