Author's Notes: Thanks for everyone who followed and left reviews. I recommend listening to Bioshock Infinite's Elizabeth theme. Very GoT-like and I listened to it while writing this.

Chapter 2

Jaime drew up his horse quickly when he came upon the inn Cersei's hounds talked about. It was early enough in the morning that the windows were mercifully dark on all floors. No one was awake except the eight horses tied up at the post outside. The inn wasn't quite big enough for a stable. He dismounted and quietly crept up with his lead in hand, feeling an idea come to mind, and a mischievous grin to his face.

He withdrew the knife at his side and slashed the reins of every single horse but the last one. There was no sense in running his own well-bred palfrey to death when he had this mangy, piebald nag at his disposal. He brought the two horses together and then glanced around for anything useful. He saw the whip hung up on the wall and carefully lifted it up. Perfect.

He climbed onto the mangy horse and tied his palfrey to the horn of the saddle. He positioned himself carefully and then slashed the whip at the other horses. It was graceless, but it did the job. The horses screamed and shot off down the road in panic.

At the same time, Jaime nudged his horse into a run and thundered down the road, not caring how much noise he made now that he had scattered the rest of the mounts and cut their reigns. He chuckled quietly to himself.

"Cersei, you should know better than to send halfwits after me. Stupidest Lannister, indeed."

If he was being honest with himself, that barb had cut the deepest. Stupidest Lannister. It was true that he'd never paid much attention to politics or gold, but he hadn't needed to. He was supposed to be in the Kingsguard for life! They were above politics and subtle maneuverings. But now, now, he was out in his field. He may not have a hand, but he knew how to survive in the wild.

He experienced his second winter in the King's Guard and Ser Barristan Selmy had taken great pains to make sure he knew how to weather it. He knew where to find edible food for both himself and his horse should it run out, he always carried flint to make a fire, it was essential that he keep circulation in his extremities, but the most important rule of all was to keep dry. He rather doubted the lackwits he'd just hobbled would know what to do if one of them should fall in an open stream in the winter.

He drove the horse hard the whole day and only stopped when it began flagging and wheezed terribly as it breathed. It was close to death, so he hopped off it and plunged the knife into its heart to ease its passing. It groaned and collapsed. He raided the saddlebags for anything and was dismayed that the owner of the horse had the good sense to empty them of almost everything except oats. He happily snatched that up.

He'd spent a great deal of time seated and decided it would be best to get his blood flowing and so he walked down the road pulling his palfrey along. It had been pulled along by the other horse, so it wasn't in as bad a shape, but it still needed rest.

It wasn't long before he was back in the saddle again. He really needed to keep gaining as much ground as possible at every opportunity.

As night fell once more, he again led his palfrey off the road into the forest, and did the same routine as the night before. This time he set a trap for game. He desperately wished to continue, but he had to keep up his and his horse's energy. He fell into a restless sleep.

He existed in a dark void that reminded him of the deep silence of the snow laden land. He could sense a presence and he called out, "Brienne! Are you there?" He never thought he'd be so desperate to see her pale, homely face, but he had no one else to expect a warm welcome from, but the presence felt like it had deepened and he involuntarily shivered at the oppressive atmosphere.

Cersei walked out of the shadows: "How stupid are you that you thought you could get away from me. I said no one leaves me!"

For the first time in his life, his heart dropped at seeing his sister and flinched back from her.

It rang clear as a bell, the sharp scraping of the sword as the Mountain unsheathed it from behind him. His heart jolted and he shot up awake, breathing heavily and glancing around frantically. For as long as he lived, he would never get that sound out of his ears.

He checked his trap to find a rabbit struggling wildly to get out. He usually would wring its neck, but that required two hands, so he bashed its head against a tree until it stopped moving. He tied it to the horse. The cold would keep it fresh for a time until he actually felt safe enough to start a fire.

The snow had finally stopped sometime in the night and off the road it was knee deep. The silence accompanied by it persisted. He had heard a couple of twigs snapping in the night, but as he didn't hear human voices with them, he assumed they must be deer. What bothered him most of all was that he hadn't yet heard any wolves nearby. Their silence was most suspicious, but he didn't dwell on it and once again continued down the road.

He started off on his feet first thing in the morning in the hopes that a brisk walk might loosen up the joints that had frozen in the night. His spirits were lower now that he had barely slept in three days, but he kept plodding along. He was beginning to feel weary from lack of sleep, but so far his clothes were warm enough that the cold did little to affect him, at least for now. It was always cold up in the north and he had a feeling now that he would regret not taking one of his heavier cloaks.

I wonder if Brienne has reached White Harbor yet... He had left about three days after Jon Snow and the Dragon Queen. They had all boarded a ship headed for White Harbor so that they could get to Winterfell in at least two weeks. He imagined Brienne being driven stir crazy on a ship where she had no opportunity to practice her sword fighting. I'm on the same boat as Brienne in a sense. I can't practice my sword fighting either.

He glanced mournfully at his left hand. Under Bronn's rather strict tutelage he had improved. With time he had even managed to train his brain to start reaching with his left hand rather than his right. That had easily been one of the more frustrating parts of losing his hand. He would reach for things only to to pull out a bloody stump, like his brain forgot his hand wasn't there. It was a small annoyance, but pervasive. As with everything he had tackled in life, he simply pushed through it and tried to ignore the little voice in his head that now told him he was worthless. A voice that perhaps not so oddly sounded like Cersei.

His brow furrowed. How could I have let her poison me for so long? He thought back to the day he had returned to King's Landing. He had been skinny from the lack of food and lost much of his muscle mass from his long stay in the cells under Riverrun. His hair was no longer a tangled nest, but he was unwashed and his face was drawn from both pain and a lack of sleep. When Cersei's eyes had fallen on him and her expression darkened, he felt like he had been slapped in the face.

Later, her words cut through him like knives. She had never forgiven him for losing his own hand. He brushed away the thoughts and mounted the horse. He needed to focus. If he was going to get to the Neck alive, then he couldn't allow stray thoughts to cloud his mind.

Some time later, the forest opened up on his left side. Harrenhal loomed before him and if he hadn't been on his horse he would've stopped in his tracks. Harrenhal, the place of his redemption. Where Brienne had begun to believe in him, where he had stupidly jumped into a bear pit without any kind of weapon to save her. That might have been more foolhardy than old Ned Stark trusting Littlefinger, but he had still made it out of there alive. It was the moment where his life turned around, but if Daenerys Targareyen felt the need to finish Aegon the Conqueror's job in melting it, he would champion her efforts. It stood empty and forbidding and he nudged the horse to hurry along faster until they were back under the trees.

Only a few hours later, Jaime found himself in Harroway's Town. Now that the snows had stopped, people here were going about their business, but activity in the town seemed to draw to a halt as soon as he stepped anywhere near it.

He did his best to ignore them. It was possible they didn't know who he was, especially now that he wasn't wearing Lannister colors, but there was no mistaking that he must be a Lord of some sort. He paid them little attention and focused on following the road, only to be brought up short. The Trident was running high and fast. It still wasn't quite cold enough to freeze the water, but the autumn rains had caused it to overflow their banks and where the stone bridge across used to be, now there was a gaping hole.

"Shit," he muttered to himself and promptly turned his horse to head down stream. With luck, he'd be able to find a ferry to carry him across this one river so that he wouldn't have to go upstream and cross the other forks.

He didn't have to travel far. An elderly gentleman with a boat large enough to fit at least a dozen men was standing outside whittling. He straightened up though as soon as Jaime trotted up.

"Would you be so kind as to ferry me across?" Jaime showed him a gold dragon.

The man looked at it for a moment and nodded, but then said, "I try to fill up the boat. The Seven know I don't want to cross this river more times a day than I have to."

"My horse and I will be the only passengers," Jaime said, giving him another gold dragon.

The man finally nodded and Jaime led his horse on board. Orders were barked and a pair of deck hands came out to start rolling the ropes and casting off. He took the opportunity to feed his horse an apple and then stayed behind the cabin so that no one could see him from the bank he'd just left. As soon as he crossed to the other side, he'd be in the Vale and he knew there weren't any Lords there with any particular interest to serve Queen Cersei.

Jaime was keyed to keep moving, but he forced himself to stand where he was and not pace. Everyone on board who passed him gave him odd looks, but he never acknowledged them and he didn't stand in their way, so they let him be.

The trip was mercifully quick. Once his horse was on dry land, he turned to address the man again when there was a thundering of hooves.

"Kingslayer!"

Seven riders pulled up to the other side of the bank. One had been left behind, probably dead, since he stole their other horse. Jaime heard a twang and he pushed the old man down as he dove behind the cover of the boat. An arrow buried itself into the wood of the stern and another smacked the ground just a few inches short of his foot. A woman in the cabin screamed and he hoped that no one on the deck had been killed.

The man was looking at him in terror, but Jaime merely pulled out another gold dragon and said, "Probably best that you stay on this side of the river for the time being." The man nodded at him fearfully, but his hand closed around the coin all the same. He grabbed his horse's lead and ran off into the cover of the trees, so that he could mount his horse in peace.

"OLD MAN! IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YA, YOU'LL COME BACK OVER HERE AND GET US. BY ORDER OF THE QUEEN ."

Jaime was fairly confident that the man would have the good sense to not go over there, especially now that he had three gold dragons which could feed his whole family for close to a year. All the same, Jaime nudged his horse into a run and galloped down the road, as though his sister herself were breathing down his neck.