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Elyria's eyes barely registered the sword before they flickered back to Jaime's before her. She blinked slowly at him as she watched his one fist curl and flex with frustration before he curtly jerked his head at Brienne, his eyes never leaving Elyria's. "Put the sword away, Brienne," he said curtly, face twisted with too many emotions to name.

"But, my lord-"

"Put it away!" He said harshly, slamming his fist down to rustle the wooden table. Brienne complied, shoving her sword back hastily and slamming down in her seat to glare at Elyria across the firelight.

"Where are you headed, Kingslayer?" She asked smoothly, face an expressionless mask. He scanned her features once more, noting the black curly hair pulled back in a long braid, the icy blue eyes, the graceful curve of her cheek and neck.

"I should ask the same of you, my lady," he ground out, eyes snapping in anger at the beauty before him.

Her eyes flicked around the tavern room, taking note of the dwindling number of travelers still left in their room, heavy into their cups and oblivious to the tension in the corner. She returned her gaze to his and arched an elegant eyebrow. Jaime snorted, rolling his eyes slightly before jutting out his chin. "Isn't it obvious, my lady? I was looking for you."

She nodded, a slight pull of her lips the only indication of the ghost of the smirk hovering there. "And I you, Kingslayer. But that is not what I asked. Where are you headed?"

Brienne scoffed, drawing a flick of Elyria's eyes. "It is no business of yours where we go once we finish with you."

Elyria gently inclined her head, the smirk coming to life, making the icy crystals in her eyes dance. "It appears, sir, you are a knight without a king then. Unless you intend to bend the knee to King Renly?"

Jaime frowned, firmly shaking his head. "Kneel before the man who slayed my father upon claiming the Iron Throne? I think not." He surveyed her face with a hint of interest, eyes lighting in spite of themselves. "Now that you know our purpose, or lack thereof, my lady, perhaps you'd share yours?"

Her face closed back in, all traces of the smirk and amusement disappearing as ice flashed in her eyes and her face became cold. "There are causes far greater than whose ass sits the Iron Throne. And there are more immediate threats to the realm that warrant your attention more thoroughly than vengeance. Would you agree, Kingslayer?"

Jaime's eyes narrowed, his brow creasing as he weighed her words shrewdly. "Speak plainly."

"The whitewalkers threaten beyond the Wall. And a few thousand men are all that stand between them and the whole of Westeros."

His expression dripped with skepticism as he searched her face, looking for the truth. "You've seen them? These terrors who roam the night, up beyond the wall?"

As she pressed her lips into a fine line, he shook his head with a scoff. "No, of course you haven't."

"They are real, Kingslayer. And the gods need your help to protect the realm."

His bark of laughter echoed in the emptying room, drawing a few started stares before travellers went back to their cups. "If these whitewalkers are as real as the North claim, a one armed knight wouldn't stand a chance, my lady. I think that is not enough motivation to sway me from my quest for vengeance, as you call it."

She gave a graceful turn of her head, releasing a pent-up sigh with a flutter of her eyes before they returned to once again study his face. "And who would you seek vengeance on first, Kingslayer? The one who slayed your sister and ill-begotten son, or the one who took your hand?"

His nostrils flared and his eyes blazed with fury, and Elyria saw Brienne's hand stray to the hilt of her sword as pain flashed over her face. "It seems then, ser," Elyria said sweetly, a grim smile stealing over her face, "we may be united in purpose."

Jaime lifted a brow as his eyes narrowed to slits. He tilted his head in interest as his fist clenched and released once more on top of the table. "And why, pray tell, would you have interest in avenging me, Ice Queen?"

Her smile at his use of the name the people had given her sent a chill racing through his spine, and he thought for not the first time that evening that the name was correct in more ways than one. "It seems Lord Walder Frey and Lord Bolton have joined to overthrow the Starks, Kingslayer. Greed makes many a man's honor falter when playing the game of thrones, and the Frey's and the Bolton's are not immune."

Anger and understanding dawned in his eyes as thoughts of splitting Locke from navel to nose danced in his mind's eye. He flicked his gaze quickly to Brienne, who nodded in agreement, before turning back to Elyria with a look of appreciation. "You would ask us to help King Stark keep his Northern throne, my lady?"

She smiled once more, shaking her head slightly, locks of black curls fluttering around her face. "I would ask you to help me save the realm, Kingslayer. Starting with avenging your hand and taking down Roose Bolton and Walder Frey once and for all."

Brienne snorted, pounding her fist on the table. "That is a distinction in words, but the results are the same, Lady Elyria," she scoffed.

"That does not make it less true, Lady Brienne," she countered, a smile flickering when she saw the look of disgust pass over Brienne's face.

Jaime snorted in amusement, raising his hand in a placating gesture as his eyes started to dance in the firelight. "How about we resort to given names? We are, after all, joining to eradicate two houses. I feel we are beyond formalities at this point in time."

Elyria's eyes flashed as the smile spread over her face. "You will join me, Jaime?" She asked with excitement.

He gave her a wry grin in response, reaching his hand out to shake hers over the table. "Where do we start?"

Two days later, Brienne regarded with disdain the farmers, sellswords, and hunters gathered in the full tavern before them. "And you're certain it is these men you wish to lead to defeat the Frey's and Bolton's, who have actual knights and warriors?"

Jaime smiled wryly, nodding along with Elyria as he heard the angry discussions of the bastard Bolton and the tightfisted treatment some had received from Lord Frey. "Aye," Jaime flashed a grin, "I think they are exactly the sort of men we need."

"And how will you know? Can they even fight? Would they?"

Elyria stepped forward, pushing fully back the hood of her cloak and drawing the eyes of all men in the room, men who she'd toiled beside and struggled with for most of her life in the swamps and bogs of the rivers. Several called out to greet her, eyeing with distrust her two companions, as she stepped up to stand before them in front of the hearth. Accepting a tankard of ale, Elyria nodded and smiled at the rapt attention the farmers and warriors alike paid her. "Gentleman!" She called out, voice ringing through the room as Jaime and Brienne watched from the door. Roars and cheery replies greeted her as she took a large swig of her ale.

"You have watched me grow from a babe to a woman, sheltering me and shuffling me about the marshes, keeping my late mother and father's secret as if it were your own. You have welcomed me in your homes; you have welcomed me in your towns; you have welcomed me in your rivers and farmlands. You have saved my life more times than I may count, with more sacrifices than I may repay in a lifetime." She raised her arm, gesturing widely across the room, as her gaze slowly met each in turn. "Walder Frey of The Twins and Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort wish to overthrow House Stark, and claim your farms and women and children and swords, and likely your very lives, as their own." A chorus of boos echoed through the tavern, loud enough to rattle the floorboards upon which they stood.

Elyria waved her arm, holding a hand up to silence them. "It is time I return the favor, gentleman. It is time I took a stand. It is time we stand together, to fight for our women, to fight for our freedom. It is time we showed the old lords of the great houses that we take no King but our own. And it is time, sirs, that Westeros were free from corrupt overlords who maintain no interests but their own, squeezing their people dry as they live lives of luxury, benefiting from wars they never fought for, never bled for, never sacrificed for."

The men bellowed and cheered, standing to rattle the earth as one as they roared with indignation and pride. "It is time we stand and fight, gentleman," Elyria's clear voice carried over the shouts as a hush fell on the crowd. "Are you with me?"

The screams and war cries echoed out of the tavern and into the night, as one by one men kneeled before Elyria, pledging fealty as she gathered an army of common folk and men who'd long since been neglected, discarded, or forgotten.

In the corner of the tavern, Brienne's amused gaze met Jaime's as they watched man after man enlist their help, hundreds lining up outside the door. "That was quite a speech," she said dryly, flushing as Jaime's laughter rang out beside her.

"It was, indeed! It seems the little Ice Queen may lead us to victory yet," he chuckled with amusement.

"They will raise her up higher than the Starks, when this is done," Brienne warned, narrowing her eyes as she noted the devotion on the faces spread out before her.

Jaime nodded in agreement, a wry smile playing on his face. "Wouldn't that be interesting? A battle for the throne between the Ice Queen and the Wolf King?" He quirked a brow in amusement as he nodded towards Elyria. "How on earth would we decide which side we were on, Brienne?"

Brienne flushed at his use of "we" and shook her head. "I will follow you wherever you lead us, my lord."

Jaime chuckled with amusement, raising his tankard of ale to his lips. "One war at a time Brienne," he mused, taking a long draft. "One war at a time," he repeated to himself softly.