Her Virtue

The lower part of her face still stung from the strike and she could feel the blood drying from her busted lip. Her entire body ached from the several punches from Locke's men before they dragged her away from Jaime earlier that night. She could still feel their disgusting hands grab at her armor, hungrily tearing at it like wild beasts. Their sadistic chuckling as they waited for the armor to reveal their prize. One of the men became too impatient and was already down on the ground with one hand tearing at the fabric that was exposed under the armor while his other hand was shoved in his pants. She screamed and kicked ferociously hoping to nail that one straight in the head with her hard boot.

What felt like an eternity in the dark wooded hell that they had taken her to, she finally heard Locke yell at them to bring her back. Disgruntled, the men obeyed the order but she still felt their leering eyes all over her. Her entire body shook as the thought of them raping her burned into her retinas. Why was Locke stopping this? Was this some sick joke? Afraid that their intentions would not go unheeded, she dragged her feet until she saw Jaime's face come back into view. He appeared to be in some type of dialogue with Locke and the black haired man who was sworn to House Bolton ordered one of his men to cut him free. Jaime's dirty face glanced up at her and she looked at him hurt. The tension between Locke and his enemy seemed to ease up. Had Jaime managed to strike some bargain with him? Was she the bartering chip? No, it made no sense. Locke already had her and could do what he pleased. There had to be more to it.

Moments later just as she thought that somehow Jaime managed to talk his way out of another imprisonment, the blonde hair brother of Cersei Lannister lost his right hand. The man's screams of pain and agony swamped her ears and she looked on as if she was witnessing some horrific nightmare. She had no love for the Kingslayer, but what benefit did Locke have to doing this?

Her blonde head rested against the tree trunk as she shifted her body as much as she could to get comfortable. The ropes prevented much movement. Jaime was tied to the tree across from her about ten feet away. His outgrown hair covered his face and what it didn't, dirt did. His head hung down towards his chest and she couldn't tell if he was asleep or not. Locke purposefully tied some rope to the severed hand and hung it around Jaime's neck as some sort of trophy. The front of his clothes were stained with blood from where it dripped down from the hand. The stump was haphazardly wrapped to act as a vice to reduce blood flow to keep him from going into shock. All Locke had to do was to get Jaime to Robb Stark. If he was barely alive, then the bounty would still be good. She remembered him smirking as he said, "Don't forget that, pretty boy. That's your sword hand isn't it?" The other men jeered.

The fire near them had died and she could feel the cold air striking her face. Her body shivered and she continued to move each limb to keep herself warm. Locke and his men were warm and toasty at their fire. She looked at Jaime in pure shock. The scene of them dragging her off to rape her and him talking Locke out of it played over and over in her head. His intention of going to such lengths plagued her. He was not sworn to protect her. She had pledged an oath to Catelyn Stark to take Jaime back to King's Landing and get her daughters back to Winterfell. He was her prisoner. Why would he care about her virtue? If he let Locke's men have a go at her, then perhaps he would still have both hands. He would still be tied to that tree while her body would have been violated.

A faint groan came from the man's dried cracked lips. The noise quickly brought energy back into Brienne. She struggled to turn her head to look at Locke. "The Kingslayer needs help! Please bring him water!"

House Bolton's sworn men laughed at her plea. "Fuck off, dumb bitch." One of them snarled.

Angrily, Brienne pushed against her restraints harder as if she was hoping the rope would break. "He needs water!"

Locke stood up from the group and smiled big. "Fine." He tossed a container that struck the ground feet away from them. "There you go. Want me to fluff him a pillow too?"

Glaring hard, Brienne felt her chest become heavy from anger as she whipped her face back around to center her focus on the Kingslayer in front of her. His body didn't even twitch. A soft groan escaped his lips again. "Why?" Her voice cracked like the flames in the fire. There was no response. Finding courage, she raised her voice, "Kingslayer, why did you do it?" Still silence.

Perplexed, Brienne finally let her body relax some against the hard trunk and rested her head as she stared up at the black sky. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath…a pause…then another deep breath. She needed to fade away from here, away from this place. The calmness made her almost forget her whereabouts and it felt so easy to dip down into sleep. The rest her body fervently needed. Shaking her head, she reopened her eyes and let them fall back onto Jaime's body. Still no movement. Despite their position, she still had a duty to her oath. She would remain vigil. Besides if she let herself get too comfortable, would Locke's men come back to finish the job? Jaime paid a very hefty price to protect her honor, her virtue. Who would rescue her a second time?