Just a suggestion for a musical accompaniment for this chapter, I wrote it listening to this on repeat: (YouTube) watch?v=BPrIPmQzCQw
so you have it to thank for the prompt update. Sons and Daughters - by Agnes Obel. Enjoy!

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Chapter Eleven

A Glancing Blow

Their moment is broken by a shout in the still air, shattering their peace and cutting above the low patter of the rainfall. Ada draws back from Jaime, one hand still dug into the thick hair at the back of his head, finds his gaze and they listen together, breathing quietly.

The shout again, louder and wilder. Then more, the clash of weapons.

'Dane,' Jaime whispers, dropping his head so that his nose lies flat against hers, eyes closed. 'Fighting.'

Ada's breathing starts a little heavier in her throat and her heart thuds faster. 'Bollocks…' she whispers.

Jaime's hand reaches for hers, grips it tightly. 'Stay close,' he tells her, and they start up the slope towards the road, Jaime grasping the pommel of the blade at his hip.

•

Jaime's fingers tighten through hers, dug into her palm as they near the road and he draws them behind a thicket until she's crouching down amongst the rotting leaves. She can make out the dark shapes of men against blue-grey banks caked with snow, the leafless trees shiver about them and there's the clash of steel. The rough breathing of people fighting for their lives.

Jaime obscures her distant view, his body broad as he positions himself in front of her. Ada's eyes, wide and a little glazed find his. 'Who is it?' she whispers, reaching out and clutching at his shoulder for balance. 'Northmen?'

'I'm not sure,' Jaime tells her. 'But I need you to stay here, do you understand? Stay safe, I'll come and get you when it's done.'

'What if it's not done? What if there's too many of them?' Her fingers tighten.

'Shhh…' Jaime soothes, shaking his head a little. 'I think we can chase off a few Northerners too far from home for their own good. Just stay out of the fighting, promise me?'

Ada knows he feels back in control, there's a lazier tone to his rich voice and a humour in his eyes that both warms and riles her. He thinks he's won. He thinks she's beaten.

And she is, for now.

She leans forward and catches his mouth with a fumbling kiss - she can hardly see him for the dark in the shadow of the thorns. 'Stay alive,' she whispers against his lips.

'I'll certainly do my best.'

And he's away.

Ada falls back into the dark, damp of the undergrowth, fingers clutched tightly round the knife at her belt.

Through a gap in the trees and bushes, the road is clear. Northmen, their armour dark and obvious against the snow, run across the window made by branches and undergrowth. Ada squints against the dim twilight and the reemerging rain, looking for a glimpse of Jaime or Dane.

•

Jaime skirts round the trees, counting men. Six- Seven armour clad Northerners. Dane, and then Sasha and Idan further along the road. Nate closest to him. A scouting party perhaps, but everything about the situation is screaming at Jaime that these men are not alone. No horses, no provisions. Just light armour and weapons. There's probably a caravan of them further down the road, waiting to hear back from their seven outliers.

He goes in swiftly, as he always does. Falls upon a man from behind and draws a dagger across his throat before he can make a sound.

Nate catches his eye through the rain and they exchange curt nods.

As the situation stands, Jaime thinks he could win this with only one other man. He's missed fighting, the power.

A scout runs at him from behind, Jaime barely bothers to turn around. Instead, he sidesteps and catches the soldier with a blow across the belly, dragging the edge of his blade along that unprotected place where the leather protector does not reach. The man crumples forward and stains the snow quickly.

Someone runs into Jaime from the side, and he grabs them roughly, trying to keep his feet in the slick, rain soaked snow. It's Sasha. The boy has a bloody gash across his brow and his sword hand is trembling so violently that it's a wonder he's not dropped the blade. Jaime reaches up his hand and wipes a broad thumb through the trail of blood to stop it's path towards Sasha's eyes. The gash is not deep, but as all head wounds are wont to do, it bleeds profusely.

'Hey,' Jaime shakes the boy, meets his gaze squarely. 'You're alright, it's just a head wound. You're alive.'

He claps his hand to Sasha's cheek. 'Be bold, be brave.'

When Jaime looks up, six more men are there to replace the two he has killed. One of the original seven has disappeared, he notes, hearing only distantly the ring of steel and the thunderous patter of rain onto steel and boiled leather. He searches for the man as he fights, only half his mind on the task at hand. His first thought is Ada. If the soldier had gone any distance into the trees to the left of the path he would have found her.

Mind whirring, Jaime trips a man and ignores his cry as he falls onto his own blade.

He scans the trees, soaked through already and his hair, longer now, clinging to his brow.

But she's already out amongst them, over by Idan. The blade of the short knife Dane had given her is bloody. It's half relief, half anger which makes Jaime battle his way over to them.

'I told you to stay in the trees!' he shouts at her, using the pommel of his borrowed sword to knock a Northman over the head.

'The trees weren't as safe as you thought,' she shouts back, retreating behind Idan's tall frame for a moment before crossing to him. 'Besides,' her breath warms his sleeve, voice softer now she's beside him. 'It looked like you needed some help.'

'Go back to the camp,' he tells her, grabbing her under the arm and wheeling her about.

'No!' She digs her heels him and glares up at him.

'Yes.'

'I'm not letting you all kill yourselves out here whilst I hide in a hut waiting for you to come back,' she tells him, baring white teeth and holding his gaze. 'I'm staying.'

Jaime growls in frustration and wrenches her behind him. 'Stay with me,' he tells her, readying himself for the next wave of men. 'And don't do anything stupid.'

Jaime deals with each man as he comes at them, fighting with teeth bared.

Ada's cry makes him turn.

'Sasha!'

His eyes search the boy out amongst the fighters. He's falling back, with a Northman's blade protruding from his narrow chest. A voiceless cry tumbling from paling lips.

Ada starts forward, but Jaime drags her back, an arm over her shoulder and across her chest with his sword slapping against her hip as he pulls her in.

'He's gone,' he tells her, mouth close to her ear, eyes on the boy he had told to be brave. 'He's gone, Ada.'

She goes limp in his arms.

'Stand up, Addy.' He shakes her, painfully aware of the fighting that is circling them. Of the fact that the Northmen are growing and their own numbers have dropped by an all-important one. 'STAND UP!'

His anger forces her into action and she finds her feet.

'Stick with Idan,' he orders.

Skirting round, Jaime finds Dane struggling with three men. Overhead, the heavens rumble. The snow around them is running off in rivulets to form icy streams beneath their feet. The earth beneath, parched by the cold, soaks up both water and blood.

There is a moment when Jaime catches the blond man's pale blue gaze and for a second he thinks he might leave Dane to fate. This man has been in Ada's bed, he's kissed her. He's-

Jaime battles with himself, and Jan wins.

A man is tapped lightly on the shoulder. He turns, broad cold bitten face twisting in confusion as he sees Jaime's broad smile and then the look is frozen as a dagger is slipped through his throat. Blood bursts against Jaime's bare hand and he sets a palm against the man's chest as he falls forward, feeling his heart thunder against his palm. The dagger slips out with the force of the fall and Jaime catches the second man with an ill placed blow over the temple. He stumbles sideways, screaming and clamping his hands over his ear which has torn half away. His blade shatters an icy puddle beneath them as it drops.

Dane, who had slipped and fallen avoiding a deadly swing from the last man, deals with him quickly, forcing his arm up and catching him through the ribs with his long blade. The solider drops forward soundlessly onto Dane and he pushes the man's corpse aside so that he can stand.

Jaime offers him a bloody hand.

Standing, they meet eye to eye. Blue on green. 'Thank you,' Dane tells Jaime, gripping his fingers tightly. 'I owe you my life.'

Jaime finds he can't hold the other man's gaze.

'How many more of these bloody northerners!' It's Nate, gasping and bleeding, at Dane's elbow.

More leather clad men on the road, they can see them fast approaching even through the onslaught of the storm and the encroaching dark. 'We're overrun,' Dane mutters, looking for Idan and finding him. Five against unknown numbers.

Jaime's arm is grabbed again and he almost pulls away, eyes dark with confusion as Dane leans in close. 'Go, go now. Take Ada and run, we'll never stand up against this many. You'll be safer heading east cross country than going North to meet the trident. It'll be swarming with Tullys and Starks.' His mouth is set and his fingers tighten against the lean muscles of Jaime's forearm. 'We'll give you time, as much as we can manage. Go on, hurry!'

And he pushes Jaime away. Jaime staggers a little at the unexpected force, stumbles half round and then looks back, face blank and mouth open a little.

'Dane-' he tries.

'Go!'

He starts away, half running, heading for Ada.

'Send my regards to your father, Ser,' comes Dane's shout over the rush of the rain and the crack of blades. 'And to Kingslanding!'

Jaime's mind stalls. His legs keep moving.

He reaches Ada within a matter of moments. 'Come on, we're going.'

'What?'

He knows she'll struggle, but he hasn't the time or the inclination to deal with her arguments.

'This isn't debatable,' he tells her, sheathing his sword and grabbing her bodily. 'This is it, we're leaving. Back to the camp, now Ada.'

He forces her ahead of him, half tripping into the undergrowth under the shadow of the forest. 'But-' Ada turns about, still moving. 'Dane! What about Dane? And the others?'

'They chose their fates.'

She stares at him, wide eyed until Jaime's patience snaps and he pulls on her arm so hard he thinks he hears the joint crack. 'Shut up and move, we're not going back.'

Ada closes her mouth and is mute for the rest of the stumbling journey back to the camp.

Flames still lick round the remaining logs in the fire pit, everything is as it had been when they had left for kindling a few hours before.

The fire is doused, throwing them into a dim blue half light under the shadow of the trees.

'Collect your things,' Jaime says, pulling her in close and reaching up to cup her face between two warm, calloused palms.

Ada turns her eyes to the ground, biting on her bottom lip and picking at the blood that has dried on her hands.

Jaime looks down at her, then frowns.

'Are you hurt? You're bleeding-' he pulls her arm back from her body and probes carefully at the rip in her shirt where blood has stained the fabric. Ada hisses and draws away, removing her arm from his grip and shielding her side from his attentions. 'It's fine! It's nothing.'

Jaime works his jaw, as though considering whether to insist or not. 'Fine, I'll fetch the horses. Can you ride?'

'Of course, it's just a scratch,' she tells him fiercely and goes to get their things.

They mount up quickly. 'We'll head east.' Jaime pulls in close to her and keeps his horse steady. 'We can make Harrenhal in a few days of hard riding.'

She just nods.

•

Jaime sets a fast pace, Ada is half in a daze. They turn south first, cutting through the forest past the pines and the fighting and into deeper, thicker woods than Ada has seen before in this world. They are forced to slow, the branches are too close and low, the trees too many. Forcing through them would only leave them bloody and scratched all to pieces.

'We'll meet the road again,' Jaime says. 'Then cut across to High Heart. That's about two days riding. Then another day or so to Harrenhal.'

'How do we know your father's still there?'

'We don't.'

They fall silent for a few minutes.

The rain has stopped, Jaime's hair is still stuck to his head in dark strands and Ada can feel herself starting to shiver despite the thick cloak about her shoulders.

'Jaime?'

'Hmm?'

'Did Dane say anything, before we left?'

Jaime glances at her through the darkness, thinks of Dane's last shouted words. Send my regards to your father, Ser. And to Kingslanding. He had known then, of course he had known.

Jaime sucks his teeth and glances skyward. A better man than he had given him credit for, to have taken them in, knowing who Jaime was. Another good man sent to his death.

'He said, 'Look after her',' Jaime lies, not letting himself look at Ada.

'Right,' she whispers.

They've crossed the road finally and are headed down towards the lower ground, away from where the slopes are full of trees still laden with red and gold leaves, bleached by the night to look grey and black and nothing more. Ada had stopped on the track, looking North, staring into the darkness as if it will bring news of their companions' fates.

He'd called to her softly, and she'd kicked her horse on, breaking her daze.

Now they're leaving the taller trees behind and clearings are appearing in the darkness, the horses moving faster and their riders feeling lighter hearted.

It's Jaime who pulls up short.

'What is it?' Ada whispers, turning Brego in close and following Jaime's gaze with her own.

'Torches,' he tells her.

'Where?'

'Through the trees, lots of them.'

'Northmen?'

He shakes his head. 'Too late, and too far from the road.'

'Who then?'

'Outlaws maybe, not friends that's for sure. We should go.'

They spur on.

But it's too late.

There are horses everywhere. Narrow, underfed things, with skinny legs and wild eyes. Their riders not much different.

An arrow narrowly misses Ada's cheek, she feels the whistle of wind as it brushes her cheek, the feathered shaft scoring against her skin and leaving a feeling like rope burn in it's wake.

'Stay low!' Jaime warns, ducking down and trying to force his horse towards the trees again. They're exposed, easy targets in the clearing, even with the darkness.

The flares blind her and spook the horses, Ada can feel Brego twitching beneath her. She whispers to him and tries to push him on.

Jaime is struggling with Alba, both urging and cursing the horse - mixing softness with his irritation. More arrows. One finds home.

'Alba!' Ada shouts over the yells of the men and the screaming of the animals. But the black horse will not stand. He rears and bolts and for all Jaime's skill with a horse, he is sent flying. He lands on his back on the frozen ground and skids painfully until he reaches a drift of softer snow and is brought to a halt. Alba flees into the shadow of the trees, trailing his harness and half their pack, with a thick black-fledged arrow buried in his flank.

Jaime tries to sit up, but flops back within a second, wincing.

Ada angles round to put herself and Brego between Jaime and the oncoming horses, using all her strength to pull the big horse about.

'Jai!'

He looks up, a little dazed. 'Get up!' She shouts, holding out a hand to him, ready to pull him up onto the horse.

But she's dragged back from behind and, shouting, is pulled from the saddle.

Brego stamps and snorts, but stands. Ada finds herself staring up at masked faces, held up under her arms. Their features flare and distort in the orange light from the flames. She breathes shallowly, wondering what they plan to do with her. She can smell sweat and blood and smoke filling her nose.

Somewhere, Jaime is talking. She can hear him. By the tone she knows he's being flippant and she's certain that will not go down well.

When they set her down, Jaime is standing again and she watches, horrified, as he head-butts one of the masked men. There's a welter of sound and shouts, Jaime elbows one of them in the face and a third one goes down with Jaime's dagger in his belly.

Hell breaks loose. Everything is fractured by the flaring, blinding torches. Bits of men, elbows and long noses. Wide, wild eyes.

They crowd round him. Grabbing his arms and pulling his head back by the hair. Jaime yells and Ada tries to run forward, but she's held back by a hand in her curls, wrenching her neck painfully.

They've got him pinioned, a man holds a stone pulled up from the snow crusted ground.

Jaime is dealt a glancing blow. Then another.

'No, STOP!' she screams, clawing and biting and fighting against the hands holding her. Desperate. Throat raw. 'You'll kill him, you fuckers! You're going to kill him!'

The men pull him up again, Jaime's head dropping and then righting itself, eyes glazed. Blood trails down from a wound on his scalp and his nose looks broken, red trails dripping down to his lips.

His mouth is open, half open, half in glazed pain.

She cries out in upset and fury, nearly pulling her arms from their sockets in her attempt to reach him.

The stone is raised again, already bloody from the three loose blows he's been dealt. Ada grits her teeth and screams through them, fighting bitterly.

They have to hold him up high, under his armpits for the other man to strike him across the face, the blow cracking against his cheek.

The sound is a physical pain for her. Jaime goes limp in his captors' arms. Blood spatters down onto the icy ground, stains the whiteness of the snow Lannister crimson.

'What do you want?' she sobs, shaking.

'For you to shut up, would be a start,' says a man's voice behind her.

She's certain she hears the thunder of hooves before they do. She stiffens first, then a man behind her falls forward, an arrow sticking up from the space between his shoulders. One fletched with red feathers.

Jaime is dropped.

Ada struggles free, grabs for Brego.

By the flares, she can make out red breastplates and dim gold round the crests of their helmets. But her mind does not fit the colours together. She just shrinks away, Brego's nose at her sleeve and headed for Jaime.

He's just conscious, blinking his eyes open as she shakes him and propping himself up to spit a gob of red onto the ground. She trembles as she helps him up, his body nearly too heavy to support. How she gets him onto the horse she'll never know. Sheer determination.

They slip away unnoticed, quiet shadows with only the flare Ada had grabbed up from the ground for light.

They go for half an hour, maybe more. Ada isn't sure. She's not even sure they're headed in the right direction. The trees should be getting thinner, surely? As they reach the lowlands… But Jaime's head is lolling against her shoulder and his grip round her waist is loosening. It's time to stop and rest.

Ada drops down from the saddle, but Jaime topples.

With steady hands she ties the horse and then crosses to him, falling to her knees and turning him over gently.

Blood has trickled in horizontal lines across his cheek from his nose which looks broken for sure. His cheek and eye are swelling and red cracks in the creases of his eyes, the wounds on his brow open and raw. Carefully, she settles herself beside him on the leaf strewn ground and sets his broken face on her lap. Her fingers stroke back the matted strands of hair from his forehead, skirt the head wounds, touch lightly over the swelling - hands cool.

By some miracle, he stirs.

She bends over him, hands moving restlessly against his skin. Beneath her trembling hands, she can feel his heart, fast and terrified as a mouse's. Alive in his chest, betraying his fear.

His mouth cracks painfully open, eyes caked with blood and his vision half red. 'Damn… I should be dead...' he whispers, wincing at the pain in his head. Like a thousand hammers, all cracking against the inside of his skull. Blinding pain. Pain that makes him sick to his stomach.

Her lips press to his brow and Jaime lets his eyes flutter closed.

'It's alright, they're gone. We got away, it's alright.'

Her breath flutters erratically over his face. She's frightened for him, he realises.

'How?'

It hurts to swallow. Everything hurts.

'They were ambushed, I didn't see who- But I got us away. Don't you remember?'

He cracks his eyes open again. She's blurry above him, dark and upside down with her hair falling about his face and her mouth downturned. 'How bad do I look?'

Her hands sketch his face. He looks shattered, broken. Not her beautiful knight, but a skull cracked by too many blows. Just thin flesh over fragile white bone. It makes her want to cry. But she leans over him and dips down to kiss his lips.

'As handsome as ever,' she tells him.

But he laughs chokingly and gives a tiny, pained shake of his head. 'Don't- Ada, I won't break if you tell me I'm broken.'

'Just a little round the edges then,' she manages, tracing the sides of his face. 'Nothing I can't mend.'

They lapse into silence. After a few minutes, she kneels up. 'Can you sit up?'

They manage a crawl, over to the nearest upright trunk and Jaime leans against it, breathing shallowly. When she joins him, drops the flare on the damp ground beside him, he settles his head in her lap once more.

'The torch is going to go out,' she murmurs, watching it's slow progress towards the tapered end of the wad of cloth, fingers in his hair.

'Let it,' Jaime whispers. 'The light hurts my head.'

She stamps it out herself and the darkness swallows the embers.

'I think they were Lannisters,' she tells him softly. 'I should have talked to them, but I wasn't sure. We could be on our way to Harrenhal by now… I'm sorry Jai.'

'Hush,' his voice threads through the darkness. 'There's no reason for you to have known. And besides, who's to say they would have recognised me? We'd probably be chained up and taken for prisoners. I don't think even my brother would recognise me as Jaime Lannister looking like this.'

Ada leans down and breathes in the scent of his scalp.

The night is not so dark as it was before, soft and pale grey, like the thinning charcoal rings under his eyes. She plaits their fingers roughly, catching the pads of her free hand over the hairs of his arm, searching out the tight wrist joints and the strength in his hands.

And so rosy dawn creeps in and finds Jaime fast asleep, and Ada not far behind. To the North, the river runs, unhindered by the snow and ice. Down where to where it is still autumn and winter is a chill in the air and little more.

•

So, dear lovely readers. There it is! One more chapter for you all. Hope you enjoyed it, and I can't wait for your feedback!

Next time: Harrenhal, Tywin and a Young Wolf - exciting stuff!
LailaBurns.