Chapter 14
"Nysa, Nysa," Arya shook her awake.
"What," Nysa stirred before looking around to see her brother had already risen. "What's going on?"
"I don't know," Arya shook her head and turned to Gendry who was trying to get Hot Pie and Lommy up.
A horn blew again and caused Nysa to jump. She grabbed Torrhen's bow, slinging it over her shoulder. Wyl came by then and folded up her furs, along with everyone else's furs. He had done it so quickly that Nysa barely had time to react and question it.
"Keep out of sight," Yoren came by her and then grabbed Gendry, pushing him towards Jory, "our agreement?"
"Aye," Jory nodded.
"What," Gendry questioned, looking around, "I'm being sold again?"
"You were never sold, boy," Yoren looked at him. "Now, stay out of sight," he growled, "and if things go wrong, go with these men. Get on a horse, run to the North with them and don't look back."
"We can fight," Arya jumped in front of him. "Jory," she turned to Jory, "we can help him."
"Their first order of business is getting you back home, boy," Yoren barked before shaking his head and turning back to Jory. "Get your horses ready."
"We can't," Arya shook her head, looking at Jory.
"We stay out of sight and if something happens, little Lady, we have to leave."
"Those men out there want to fuck your corpses," Yoren barked, "outside! Now!"
Everyone began moving quickly. Desmond and Porther ushered her out and towards the back of the barn. Alyn was there leaning up against the post, sword drawn when they came in.
"What's going on?"
"We need to leave," Jory mounted his horse before looking back at Gendry. "We don't have enough so that you can have your own, you'll need to ride with one of my men."
"Aye," Gendry nodded and climbed on behind Wyl.
Nysa wrapped her arms around Desmond as Arya climbed on after Porther. Jory motioned for them to stay quiet as they moved the horses out and watched Yoren go out to meet the men.
"Lannisters," Alyn spat on the ground.
"How many of them," Cayn asked.
"I do not know," Jory shook his head, "but if Yoren doesn't get rid of them, we need to leave."
They all watched from on top their horses, one hand on the reins while the other on their sword - ready for a fight. Gendry had a hammer in one hand and looked ready to do the same. Desmond tapped Nysa's leg and motioned for her to move around him. She maneuvered her body until she was in front of him, perfect spot for her to shoot an arrow. She got one ready and they waited.
"Where's the bastard, crow," one of them shouted at Yoren.
"They're looking for Nysa," Wyl whispered.
"No," Jory shook his head, "they want the boy," he nodded to Gendry before turning back to the scene. "Can you see how much of them there are," Jory questioned to no one in particular.
"A dozen, maybe more," his sister answered, scanning the darkness. "I only see shadows."
"There's more than a few bastards here, who's asking," Yoren demanded to know.
"Ser Amory Lorch, sworn bannermen to Lord Tywin Lannister," the man on the horse answered. "These men from the Capital requested our assistance," he motioned to the gold-cloaks riding with them. "Drop your weapons in the name of the King."
"Which King would that be," Yoren chuckled, "I heard there's about three..."
"This is your last chance," the knight growled. "In the name of King Joffrey, drop your weapons."
"I don't think I will."
"We just want the bastard."
Yoren spat on the ground.
"So be it," he gestured for a guard to proceed.
But Nysa anticipated it and shot an arrow out from the clearing, hitting the guard in the head. She hurried to get another arrow ready and aimed it towards a torch. "Desmond," she muttered as he pulled out a small pouch and poured it onto her arrow.
Just as Yoren began to attack the Lannister guards, Nysa let the arrow go. It hit the flame atop the torch. The fire caught the oil on the arrow and started to burn the grass around the men. Her eyes widened at the sight.
"There's at least thirty of them," Wyl said.
"Yoren," Arya gasped as they saw the man known as Ser Amory Lorch plunge his sword into Yoren's head.
"Start looking for that bastard Gendry," Ser Amory barked, "and I want that bowman!"
"Ride," Jory shouted as they all darted out of the bushes, following him away from there.
Nysa snuggled back against Desmond as they pushed through the darkness. They were on the run again. Jory took them away from the Kingsroad. He led them through using the moonlight, not once looking back. It was not until he spotted a light on the horizon that he stopped the party. He urged his horse backwards until the others caught up.
"What is it," asked Wyl.
"Light," Jory replied.
"It cannot be daybreak," Cayn added.
"It's not," Jory agreed before looking at them, "it's a camp."
"Robb," Arya leaned forward.
"Too far South," Jory shook his head before scanning the woods around him. "We'd have to go around them."
"The light goes on and on, Jory," Wyl tilted his head towards the hill top, "we'd never make it before we're discovered."
"We can't ride through. Not a Lannister encampment," Jory refuted.
And he was right. A rider overheard them and appeared at the top of the hill, blowing a small horn to signal that there were intruders to their camp. Jory shouted for them to hurry and ride out of there. Better to go back and face the thirty men instead of facing an entire camp.
An arrow pierced Wyl's horse, causing him and Gendry to fly off. They scurried around until Jory went back to grab Gendry and Alyn went to take Wyl. Another arrow flew in the air and landed in Porther's shoulder, causing Arya to scream.
"Arya," Nysa shouted and tried to get Desmond to turn around.
When they did, an entire envoy had arrived to take them. The guards pulled Arya off the horse, kicking and screaming. Nysa got an arrow ready and shot the first guard down but was unable to annihilate any further threats when Desmond was bombarded by guards also. She looked over to see the guards dragging Jory, Gendry, Alyn, Wyl and Cayn as well. Her eyes then caught the two figures laying on the dirt. They pulled Porther up and yanked the arrow out as he screamed.
"Where did you come from," one of them questioned, to which Porther spat in his face.
The guard took out his sword and drove it through Porther's chest causing Nysa to turn away from the sight.
Arya was still struggling in the arms of one of the other guards.
"Now where did you all come from?"
"That's enough," a voice sounded as Nysa saw three other figures stride forward on their horses. It was obvious that these were higher in authority.
"Lannisters," Jory whispered but Nysa already knew who they were. His eyes widened, gesturing back towards the three who were approaching.
Realization dawned on her and she tried to move back.
One of them jumped off their horse and began walking down the line. "They have swords," he said back to the two on the horse, "and this one has a bow," he gestured to Nysa, "but they don't look like trouble. Who of you is in charge?"
"No one is in charge, my Lord," Cayn answered.
"So, you are just riding fast through the night," he questioned.
"We meant no harm," Wyl added.
"No harm," one of the guards behind spat out, "they were running away. What were they running from if not..."
"This could merely be a small misunderstanding," a second person from the horses jumped down. Nysa's hair began to stand on her neck, because she recognized that voice. "You did not need to sound the alarm for such a small party."
Nysa kept her head down and tried to hide behind Wyl and Cayn but it was too late. He moved towards her until he was standing in the front. Someone - probably Jory - pulled out a hidden dagger but another guard was right there to stop him. The knight reached out his hand and lifted Nysa's face slowly. She couldn't make out the guard's face in the dark. It wasn't until he whispered her name that she knew she was in trouble.
"Ser Lucion," the guard questioned who was holding Jory back.
"I'll take them to Lord Tywin's tent," Ser Lucion replied.
"They attacked us," someone called out from behind.
"They're nothing but common folk trying to survive," Ser Lucion shouted. "We could use more able-bodied men, especially since the young wolf," his eyes flitted over to where Arya was, "killed so many of ours."
"Ser..."
"I do not think that my cousin would appreciate you questioning me, now would he," Ser Lucion let go of Nysa's face and turned to guard. Nysa exhaled a breath of relief. "Let that one go," he nodded to Arya. "Be off with the rest of you. I said I'll take them."
"Yes, Ser," they replied.
Ser Lucion moved Nysa to walk right next to him. She watched as her brother and the others were lined up behind her.
They had just appeared at the entrance of the tent when Ser Lucion stopped them. One by one, the other guards left him alone to enter the tent.
"Do not worry," he said to Nysa but loud enough for everyone to hear. "He'll not learn who you are from me." Nysa turned sharply towards him. "You saved my life at King's Landing," he stated plainly turning to look at the tent's entrance, "and a Lannister always pays his debts."
"Ser Lucion," she began.
"Not a word until I say so," he replied as a voice told them to enter.
"What is it?"
Nysa raised her head to see a few men - Lords and knights - in their armor discussing matters over a table.
"Who are these people?"
"The guards roused us for a tiny group of small folk riding through the woods," Ser Lucion replied. "I thought that perhaps we could use them, instead of putting them to the sword."
One of those lords walked around the table and Nysa moved her head to look down again. The lord lifted her face slowly before Nysa caught an odd twinkle in them. He released her and continued walking.
"They just appeared in the woods?"
"They were riding through them, riding hard and fast away from something," Ser Lucion replied.
"And what was that," the Lord questioned.
Before anyone could answer, Nysa got a better look at the man walking behind him. She looked over at her brother then. "The Mountain," she whispered nodding towards him. Jory's eyes widened a bit before turning his face, using his hair to hide his features. She was so determined to stay hidden from the Mountain now that she did not notice the Lord in front of them was still awaiting a reply.
"Answer Lord Tywin," a guard shouted, "or I'll cut off your cocks off and make you talk," he pointed the sword to them.
Lord Tywin turned sharply towards the guard and shook his head. "You'll do no such thing," he said in a calm voice. He gestured for Arya and Nysa to step forward. "These two are girls, you idiot. Chopped hair and dressed up as boys, why," he asked.
"Safer to travel, my Lord," Arya answered.
"Smart," he nodded to the two of them before looking back, "more than I can say for those under my command. And what is it that got you so worked up," he asked looking at Nysa.
She had never met Lord Tywin Lannister before but she had met every one of his children. She couldn't see any resemblance, not since Lord Tywin's hair was graying. But he still looked imposing and someone to be feared and respected as he stood there in front of them.
"Our village is really small, my lord," Nysa began. "Our father was murdered," she gestured towards Arya and then looked at Gendry, "my brother and I decided to get our sister out before we heard your men were coming."
"They're from the Riverlands," someone said behind him.
"We don't hold our allegiance to anyone, my Lord," Nysa protested.
"They could be working as spies!"
"We are not," Nysa shook her head. "I assure you!"
"They can't be trusted," another Lord stated, drawing his sword.
"No, please. We simply..."
"That's enough, girl," Lord Tywin said before turning to the others, "and I suppose you are all from the same village?"
"Yes, my Lord," Jory replied, "they are my brother's children. I just wanted to get them somewhere safe." He paused and then turned away to hide his face once more. "Some of us were fishermen, my Lord. We've been on the run for some time and I came close to selling my nephew and nieces to a tavern just so that they could have somewhere to sleep. Please, my Lord."
"I will look after them," Lord Tywin answered immediately.
"My Lord Tywin," the guard tried to stop him but Lord Tywin just stared at him. "Yes, my Lord."
"Your brother," he asked Nysa, pointing to Gendry. She nodded and he walked over. "Strong and young, do you know a trade?"
Gendry nodded. "Smith, my Lord."
"Put him to work," Lord Tywin commanded Ser Lucion. "You forge our armor and shield, we'll keep you well fed. Get those other men over there in uniform," he gestured to Jory, "they look fit to wield swords."
"They already had swords, cousin," Ser Lucion commented. "A bit unprepared though."
"Of course, they were," Lord Tywin agreed, "have them trained. You girl," he barked at Nysa, "your brother is a smith and what skill did you parents teach you?"
"I can tend to the wounded," Nysa replied.
"Send her there," he instructed before pointing to Arya, "and leave the other girl with me. I need a new cup-bearer."
"Greyjoy," Ser Rodrik shouted, kicking the guards holding him. They got a few cuts and bruises on them but continued their hold.
"We caught this one on the back from Torrhen Square," one of the guards said as he was brought to stand before Theon. "He cut two of ours before I got his sword."
"Ser Rodrik," Theon smirked at him. "It grieves me that we meet as foes."
"It grieves me that you have less honor than a back-alley whore," he bit out, blood streaming down his face. "You were raised here, under this roof. These people are your people!"
"They are not my people," Theon retorted.
"King Robb thought of you as a brother," he snarled.
Theon took a few steps forward. "My brothers are dead. They died fighting Stark men, men like you," Theon shouted.
"Aye, they died fighting a war your father started," Ser Rodrik argued, "Lord Stark raised you among his own sons."
"Among them," he shook his head, "not as one of them. I was his hostage! Taken from my home!"
"If he were alive to see this..."
"He's not," Theon snarled, "he's dead! The Seven Kingdoms are at war and Winterfell is mine!"
Ser Rodrik leaned forward. "I should have put a sword in your belly instead of in your hand," he shook his head, eyeing Theon with disgust. "Or a bow in the other, you and Nysa," he snorted. "My own niece played with you as a child, trained with you in the yard. You could barely read or write when you came to us. Who taught you," Ser Rodrik shouted, "who taught you when the letters jumbled in your head?"
It was Nysa, Theon thought.
"We all did it because Lord Stark took you in! You became a member of his household! Everything you learned came from us, from House Stark, from the people of Winterfell!"
One of the men moved by Ser Rodrik, catching Theon's attention - reminding him of what his purpose was. "You have served this House faithfully, old man. But keep talking and..."
Ser Rodrik spat in Theon's face. One of his guards kicked Ser Rodrik, pushing him into the mud.
"Take him to the cells," Theon commanded. "Lock him..."
"My Prince," one of the guards came by him then, "you cannot let that stand. He must pay."
"I'll lock him in his cell until..."
"No," the guard barked. "He has to pay the iron price."
Realization dawned on Theon and for some reason a few others who were standing in the yard. "No," Theon heard a female shout from the back and saw Beth being held back in Raya's arms. Raya's two daughters on the side of her, also began crying.
"They'll never respect you while he lives," the guard pointed out as Theon looked back at him.
Theon looked down at Ser Rodrik, guilt flooding through him like the waters beat against the coast. He turned to look at Bran, eyes pleading. Beth was still crying in the corner for her father. He then looked at all the iron men around him, all demanding that this be done. He is an Iron-born. He is Prince of the Iron Islands. He is a Greyjoy, a Kraken. He is not a Stark, not a wolf. He never was.
"Ser Rodrik, I sentence you to death!"
"No," Beth shouted the loudest and tried to pull away from Raya. Only for Joseth to grab her and pull her back.
"Stay with my wife, Beth."
"My father! Theon, please," Beth shouted. "He trained you! He trained you!"
Bran and Rickon were shouting too, begging Theon not to do it, reminding Theon that he promised mercy. "You said no harm would come if I yielded," Bran argued.
"The old man couldn't keep his mouth shut," Theon responded.
"He trained you," Beth continued. "He taught you everything, Theon! Don't do this! Not my father, please I'm begging you!"
"Do not make a hasty decision," Maester Luwin came towards Theon then.
"He disrespected me in front of my men. That was his decision," Theon countered, "not mine!"
"He's worth more to you alive, than dead," Maester Luwin pleaded. "What they say is right," he gestured towards Beth, Bran and the others. "The Starks will pay and if Jory and Nysa are still alive," he urged, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Please Theon, think about what you do. No one will forgive you if he..."
"You'll address me as Prince Theon or you'll be next," Theon barked before nodding to his men to complete the order.
"No," Beth moved free from Joseth, running full speed towards her father only for one of the Iron guards to catch her.
"Don't worry," he smirked at her, "I'll take care of you once he's gone."
"No," Raya reached for her but Joseth pulled his wife back.
"Not the girl, my Prince," Maester Luwin begged Theon. "Please not..."
"Theon, stop," Rickon shouted as Nan did her best to hold him back.
Farlen shouted protests as well until one of the iron men punched him in the face.
"No," Bran protested, screaming for Theon to stop as Ser Rodrik was led towards the block. "You promised Theon! You promised!"
"Not Ser Rodrik, please," Rickon added.
Ser Rodrik planted his feet, halting the guards from moving him until Theon came to stand before him. "He who passes the sentence should swing the sword," Ser Rodrik reminded Theon. "You are Lord of Winterfell, are you not?"
Theon pushed his guards away and withdrew his sword.
"Stop," Bran shouted. "Stop right now!"
"You don't give commands anymore, little lord," Theon looked up at him.
"Please, please, Maester Luwin," Bran turned to him, "please..."
"Hush now child," Ser Rodrik told him. "I'm off to see your father," he smiled before turning away. "Beth, my daughter," he called out as she whimpered in the back, "look away!"
Beth, Bran and Rickon continued to shout at him. There were also the pleas of Joseth and Farlen, their wives and daughters who began to cry. Theon ignored them all and put out his sword.
"Any last words, old man?"
"Gods help you, Theon Greyjoy," Ser Rodrik told him. "Robb and Nysa will never forgive you. Now you are truly lost." He placed his head down as Theon readied his sword.
Nysa stared at the bath with joyful eyes. She desperately wanted to go in but at the same time, she was still cautious of Ser Lucion. This was his tent after all. She stood there, watching the soft steam rise from the water. It did look inviting. She hadn't bathe since King's Landing and that had been a long journey.
"What are you doing?" She jumped at Ser Lucion entering the tent. "It's a bath. I didn't fill it with poison."
"It's a bath, in your tent," she added.
"Yes, well you can't expect for me to let you bathe in the river now, do you?" She turned to him as he sat on his feather bed and began taking off his boots. Nysa shuffled back slowly until she hit a small table in there, causing the contents on there to be knocked over. "I'm not going to hurt you if that's what you're thinking."
"This is highly improper," she said gently as Ser Lucion stopped and looked up at her.
"Do you believe I brought you here so that I could bed you?" Nysa didn't answer but looked away. "Lannisters have more honor than you think we do. And believe me, it's better for you in here than out there," he nodded towards the exit. "They know you're a girl, do you think that your brother will be able to stop them from raping you?"
"So, I am to stay in your bed and have the others think that I am your whore," Nysa snapped.
"I know this isn't the ideal setting for you," he added.
"It's not!"
"But you should consider that we are at war right now," he looked at her thoughtfully before standing. "Men forget themselves during war. It was either this or I allow the men to make you their whore and trust me," Lucion stepped closer, "Ser Gregor would have you first and then allow the rest of his men to have you too. They wouldn't listen to your pleas to stop or your cries for mercy. And by the time the men are done, Ser Gregor will return to you again - that's if you haven't killed yourself first."
"Why do you allow him to..."
"I don't allow him to do anything," Lucion almost shouted at her. "He is a sworn bannermen to my cousin. He is the only one who follows orders to Tywin's liking."
"And that involves raping innocent girls?"
Lucion sighed and turned his head away. "That involves completing whatever task Tywin tells him to do. If Tywin wants the Riverlands destroyed, Clegane will do it. How it gets it done, Tywin doesn't care."
"As long as it gets done," Nysa finished.
Lucion looked away from her. He had desired her in King's Landing. And despite her unkempt appearance what with her hair being short, her tunic a size to large and her breeches dirtied - he still thought her desirable. He knew she did not care for him the same - probably not at all. She had declined invitations to walk in the gardens or ride in the morning or even eat luncheon with him and his sister. He had never tried to court a girl before but he understood enough to know that she was not interested. It must have increased even more the past few days since she was a member of House Stark and he was a Lannister.
"I won't sleep here, if that makes you feel better. I did not intend to bed you or encourage you into my bed by kindness," Lucion said as he began to slip on a cleaner tunic. "As I said, you saved my life and I owed you a debt. So, if there is anything else you need of me just..."
"My brother went up against Ser Gregor during the tourney for Lord Stark," she interrupted him. "If for some reason..."
"Believe me, Clegane will not notice your brother. He barely even remembers fighting me. The only thing he recalls is that his lance broke off in my side - and he didn't even know it was I he was jousting against," Lucion chuckled before shaking his head.
"I'm assuming your wound has healed nicely since you are here, preparing to fight on the battlefield."
"Thanks to you," he smiled lightly before clearing his throat. "Finish your bath," he nodded towards the water, "I had my squire lay out a new tunic and pair of breeches for you. I'm afraid I do not have any spare dresses laying around for unsuspecting maidens." Nysa covered her mouth to hide her laugh which made Lucion smile. "Come and find me when you're done."
After Ser Lucion had left the tent, Nysa undressed and slipped into the heated bath - glad to be rid of the bindings on her breast and the boots off her feet. The water had cooled down some but it was still warm and soothing. She wanted so desperately to take her time, enjoying the rinsing of the dirt away from her skin. She rest her head back against the edge of the tub and just sat there in the water. Nysa could have fallen asleep but she jumped at the mention of her name and moved her arms to cover her body.
"Forgive me, my Lady," a young boy bowed his head, his cheeks reddening. "I did not mean to disturb you but Ser Lucion wanted me to ask if you were done." Nysa looked away and down at the water. "He wishes to take you to see the injured men and I need to empty out the bath."
"Of course, of course," Nysa nodded before gesturing for a large cloth to wipe and cover herself.
The young boy didn't watch her nor did he attempt to look her way. He kept his eyes down on the ground or at the task at hand as Nysa got dressed. She immediately snorted as she saw the tunic had red and gold trimming. It wasn't as loose as the first one and she found that she didn't care if her womanly curves were displayed. She had nothing to hide anymore.
"Thank you," Nysa told the boy as he nodded and took her dirty cloths.
"I'll have these washed for you, my Lady."
"Excuse me but what is your name?"
"Darion," he smiled, "Darion Lannister."
"You are Ser Lucion's squire?" The boy nodded with another smile. "And how old are you, Darion?"
"Ten," he answered, straightening out his shoulders and trying to stand tall.
"And what a brave, young squire you are to be follow Ser Lucion to battle," she complimented as he relaxed and the red appeared in his cheeks again. "Are you Ser Lucion's cousin?"
"Yes, my Lady. I'm," Darion paused and then looked away with his eyebrows knit together. "His grandmother and my grandfather are brother and sister or I think my mother is his grandmother, no," it was adorable to see him attempt the relationship, Nysa thought. "Wait, I'm his..." Darion stopped again and tried to formulate his answer.
"You are still kin to him," Nysa appraised as she held out her hand, "would you like to show me where Ser Lucion is?"
Darion led her by the hand, smiling up at her every now and then. He dropped her hand once they reached a tent with two knights standing outside. One of them, Nysa recognized as someone who was with Lord Tywin in the main tent. The other was younger but still a few years older than Nysa. Darion took a few steps away from her when their eyes landed on her, causing her to wonder if they would have reprimanded him.
"You are to tend to the wounded, not the boy," the older one barked before his eyes turned to Darion, "go on."
Darion disappeared quickly and Nysa turned with wide eyes towards the younger one who opened the flap of the tent for her. She hesitantly went in before him and gasped when the flap fell and the knight appeared right behind her.
"Darion's mother died a couple weeks ago," the knight said, "he hasn't had any female interaction since his father sent him to squire for Lucion. He hopes it will toughen him up."
"It's not weakness to mourn for your loved ones."
The knight stood perhaps two heads taller than her and sneered, "she was raped and murdered in front of his eyes by a northmen."
"A northerner would never..." Nysa whimpered as the knight grabbed her arm with such force and pulled her against his body.
The knight smirked and looked down upon her. "I knew you weren't telling my Uncle the truth," he chuckled, "you're from the North."
"Please, I..."
"Son," a raspy voice called out, causing both Nysa and the knight's head to snap towards the corner.
In the bed, hidden in the shadows, was an older man - badly injured from the coloration of the cloths around him. Nysa pulled herself free and went to the man's side. "Where is your injury?"
The man grunted and moved his shoulder until Nysa saw the bandage fall and show the wound on his back. She gently moved him over to his side - finally gaining assistance from the knight that was in the tent with them. She worked quietly and asked for Darion to come back and assist her. The knight left and went to fetch him - along with new bandages.
Darion continued to fetch her water. He helped her keep the fire going so that she could have the coals to work. She then went out in the early morning, walking around the camp and looking at the various plants that were nearby. The wound that the soldier had, had a small infection. But it could easily have gotten cleaned up with some little extra herbs. She worked to create the cream that was to go on the wound in the tent. When Darion asked her what it was called, she said that she had forgotten the name - only that her Lord Uncle had told her that it could help to numb the muscles so the patient wouldn't feel any pain.
Jory had been allowed to see her in the soldier's tent. Of course, the knight she had met earlier along with Ser Lucion were often present as well - there was nothing she could do to get them away from her - so, she and Jory could not speak of private matters. But he did inform her that everyone was alright and that they would be marching on to Harrenhall once Nysa was done. Apparently, whoever she was tending to, was rather important to the Lannister's army. She found her answer.
"How is he," Lord Tywin came into the tent with Arya close behind him two days later.
"He is well, my Lord," Nysa stood from the side of the bed and attempted a curtsy.
"There is no need for that, girl," he replied and walked towards the bed to stand at the edge of it. "This man is my late wife's brother," he said looking at the man in the bed. "He is my brother by law, I do not want lies."
"He had a significant injury," Nysa explained. "I'm surprised that he has lived this long without it being tended to, my Lord. But I was able to go in and clean the wound from infection." He gestured for her to go. "Nothing major was damaged. He is older in age so I am worried about his recovery."
"Will he live?"
Nysa nodded.
"Will he be incapacitated?"
"No, my Lord," she shook her head. "I think he won't be able to move for a while. He is weak because he hasn't had proper food, only the broth that I've been preparing and even that is not enough sustenance."
Lord Tywin walked towards the other side and examined the man's back. "Did he pass out from the pain or..."
"I gave him a numbing agent. Well, I rubbed a cream on his back so that I could sew up the wound," Nysa corrected.
Lord Tywin's eyes shot up at her.
"My Lord," Nysa added, wondering if she forgot to address him and that was the reason for his curiosity.
"Your sister knows how to read."
Nysa's brows furrowed in confusion before she glanced at Arya. "Is she not supposed to?"
A chuckle left Lord Tywin's mouth and he moved away from the bed. "There aren't that many low-born girls who grow up in villages that know how to read," he walked to the other corner, taking a cup from Ser Lucion and swirling the wine around before bringing it to his lips, "neither are there many low-born girls who have extensive knowledge in medicine."
That was the point he was trying to make, Nysa thought as she looked away.
"Right now, I find myself in no concern over who the two of you are or where you are from," Tywin began without waiting for an answer. "Tell me more about Ser Stafford," he gestured to the bed, "when will he be able to ride?"
"You will have to ask him what he is okay with, my Lord," Nysa answered. "In my opinion, I would ask that we wait until the wound close - a week or so. But if you are desperate to exit these lands then I suggest you prepare a wagon and many furs for him to stay comfortable."
Robb sat in one of the halls of Castamere, watching as Torrhen sharpened a sword. He tried not to let his feelings surface - especially with Ser Perwyn and Olyvar so close by. But nonetheless, the news came out. Eddard slapped Torrhen's leg before gesturing towards Robb. Torrhen looked up at their King and remembered that he had thought Nysa and Robb were in love.
"Is that Nysa's sword," Robb asked when Torrhen looked at him.
"Yes, your Grace," Torrhen answered.
Robb took a deep breath and tried to unclench his fist but it wasn't working. "May I ask how you came by it?"
Torrhen smiled lightly before looking back down at it. "The last I checked, you are betrothed to a Frey, your Grace," he said and continued sharpening the sword, "you shouldn't concern yourself with what Lady Nysa is giving me or not." Torrhen couldn't help it - consider it his male pride or what have you - but he wanted to remind the King that Nysa no longer belonged to him, she never did.
Eddard shook his head and snorted.
Robb stood immediately causing Ser Perwyn, Olyvar and Patrek to look on in confusion. "What she's giving you," he questioned.
"You overstepped, Torr," Eddard reminded him.
Torrhen nodded to his brother but turned to stand up as well. "Forgive me, your Grace. I did not mean to offend Lady Nysa."
"No, you only meant to offend me."
"Torrhen is right," Lady Dacey interjected, "You are betrothed, your Grace. Nysa is no longer your concern." Robb turned sharply to her. "I know you may care for her - more than is consider proper - but you made a vow."
"Lady Nysa," Ser Perwyn questioned then.
"Yes," Smalljon began, "she's from the North. She..."
"I know who she is," Ser Perwyn interjected causing the entire room to look at him. "If we're talking about the same Nysa," he began, "she was with your father," he nodded to Robb. "My brothers and I met her at the Hand's tourney. King Robert held a tourney for Lord Stark and we had gone to compete it. I went up against her brother and lost," he chuckled.
"Her brother is a knight," asked Olyvar. "Father said you lost to..."
Ser Perwyn scoffed. "Of course, father would say that I lost to a knight. But no," he shook his head, "I believe her brother serves captain of the guard for House Stark."
"Her father was a knight," Robb answered looking at him before setting his eyes back on Torrhen, "and her Uncle is Ser Rodrik."
Olyvar nodded. "The one you sent back to Winterfell?"
"Yes."
"So, we are speaking of the same Lady," Ser Perwyn smiled.
"Why are you smiling," Olyvar asked.
"If my thoughts are correct and I believe they are," he looked at his brother before turning towards the King. "Nysa is a beautiful young woman, your Grace. She is witty, fearless and kindhearted. You march to the South for her as well, I can see it in your eyes. I see the same look that many southern knights had when she tended to their wounds or danced with them at the feast in King's Landing," he added which made not only Robb but Torrhen heat up with anger also. "But you made a promise to my father, your Grace."
"What are you saying, Ser Perwyn," Robb narrowed his eyes at him.
"You chose me to be one of your personal guards, to give you advice when needed. And that is what I will tell you, you should no longer concern yourself with her."
"She," Robb began but looked away and closed his eyes.
Torrhen cleared his throat. He opened his mouth but Smalljon and Daryn shook their heads. He took a step forward, either way. "I will take care of her, your Grace. She'll never be left wanting."
"My father planned to give her Greenhall," Robb said without turning towards Torrhen, "as a wedding gift. I believe he was going to settle a betrothal with your House when he came back."
"Greenhall is generous," Torrhen smiled nervously and looked down.
"That's very generous," Eddard added, turning to his brother.
"There are a lot of abandoned castles and hold-fasts that could be rebuilt," Smalljon nodded. "Greenhall has an outlying village, it's near the Kingsroad. But it's also the next castle other than ours that receives the most raids from the wildlings."
"I think that's why my father wanted to rebuild it," Robb looked at Torrhen. He took a deep breath and felt his heart break when he uttered his next words. "When we get my sisters back, along with Nysa," he sighed heavily - it pained him to do so but what they spoke was the truth. "I will finalize the betrothal for you and Nysa."
Torrhen straightened out. "Thank you, your Grace. You've proved yourself the better man."
A knock sounded on the door and Olyvar went to open it. Lord Bolton walked in and bowed to Robb - ignoring the others who were there. "Your Grace," he held out two letters.
"From the look on your face, I don't know if I'll like either one," Robb commented as he motioned for the letters.
"One is from your mother," Lord Bolton began. "She is traveling back from the Stormlands."
"So soon," Robb narrowed his eyes.
"I'm afraid that there is some disturbing news at the Baratheon camp."
"He refused to fight with us," Eddard Karstark questioned.
Lord Bolton did not turn around to face them but continue to address the King. "I'll have you read her letter, my King. The other, your Grace," Lord Bolton sighed, "is from Winterfell."
"No, please," Nysa shouted as every head turned to her.
She had heard the screams of a child and the crying of a girl as they made their first and only stop on their way to Harrenhall. They had regrouped with the Mountain and she was shocked to see a few of his men pushing a young girl between four of them. It was as if they were playing some sort of game. And it wasn't until the girl they were toying with had screamed that they stopped.
"That means I get her first boys," one of them shouted and spun the girl around in his arms.
He began tearing her dress off and it was then that Nysa stepped forward.
"She's ours," another one turned around to scowl at her.
"There's a tavern nearby with..."
Nysa was slapped across the face and fell into the dirt. He had just grabbed her when another soldier pulled him off. "She belongs to Ser Lucion."
"What's going on, here?"
She looked up to see Ser Lucion hurrying to her side. "This whore tried to stop us from partaking in our spoils."
"She's innocent, please," Nysa looked up at Ser Lucion as he pulled her to stand. He touched her cheek and turned to the men.
"Who hit her?"
Nobody responded and immediately he drew out his sword.
"Hand over your spoils," he gestured to the boy and other girl who were cringing in the dirt, "and that one," he lifted the sword to the girl they had been tossing back and forth. "Payment for bruising my lady's face."
"But Clegane said we could have them!"
"That was before you slapped my woman," Ser Lucion barked as a few of the other soldiers had finally turned to look.
Nysa saw that many of them were ready to defend Ser Lucion - he was after all probably their liege Lord. At least she wanted to think that.
The guards didn't move and Ser Lucion called for the two younger captives to step forward. They ran towards Nysa, both wrapping their arms around her as though she were their lifeline. The other girl took some time to get up but when she did, she gripped whatever clothing was still hanging on her and walked with her head lifted high. She didn't take Ser Lucion's hand and neither did she embrace Nysa.
Nysa took the three of them into Ser Lucion's tent and asked Darion to make a bath for the younger girl. She gave both some bread to eat while they waited - which they took to greedily. She then moved her attention to the other girl. After preparing a cloth and a small basin of water, she started to wipe the girl's cuts.
She slapped Nysa's hand away from her face. "I can tend to my own injuries, Lannister whore!"
Nysa didn't know what compelled her but she responded by slapping the girl back in the face. "I am not a whore," she sneered making the two others in the tent jump. She walked over to where the pitcher of water was and began to pour for the two younger children. "I know how this looks," she said as she walked back, "I'm being kept in a Lannister knight's tent but I am not his whore or any others for that matter," she handed the cup to the two children who took it eagerly.
"Why else would he keep you, if not for that reason?"
"Unless she was captured just like us," the younger girl squeaked but quieted down in when the elder one flashed her a glare.
"I actually was captured. A few days ago," Nysa answered. "We were trying to make our way North."
"Lies," the elder one shouted. "Don't believe her," she turned to the younger children.
"Believe me or not, I'm from the North."
The girl narrowed her eyes at Nysa. "Prove it!"
"I was raised among Lord Stark's children."
"If that is case then why are you here, in the middle of a Lannister camp in the tent belonging to a Lannister knight?"
"I traveled with Lord Stark to King's Landing. I was to serve as Lady Sansa's lady-in-waiting once she married Joffrey," Nysa knelt in front of the boy and began to clean any wounds and rub cream on bruises that were forming. She paused and looked intently at the boy. "You look familiar?"
"I'm..."
"Don't," the eldest stopped him.
"She said she's from the North," the girl replied.
"That doesn't mean anything!"
"My name is Nysa Snow," Nysa stood up and faced the young woman. "I am friends with Jon Snow and Robb Stark. My brother is Jory Cassel - captain of the guards for House Stark. He is alive, trying to get me and Arya Stark back North. We were captured and lied to Lord Tywin about being common folk to spare execution. We are wanted by the crown, by Joffrey and Cersei! Do you think it was easy for us to be here when Lord Tywin of all people oversees this camp? I grew up in Winterfell. I played in the wolfwoods. I have never been so hot in my life since the moment we passed the Neck."
Nysa started to pace in front of the girl.
"In fact, I haven't used my cloak or gloves since then! I hate it here in the South! I've been reminded that I'm a bastard by almost every person that I meet! It does not matter that my father was a knight or that my Uncle is one! Even my brother has been treated so lowly. Our House may be small but it is loyal and honorable! I have met so many dishonorable people in my life! Lord Stark never treated us this way. Lady Stark raised me among her daughters to be a Lady! And then I come here and am called all sort of names like bastard or whore," she sneered at the girl. "So, whether you believe me or not is up to you, but I do not need to hear any more of your complaining!"
There was a moment of silence as the two girls stared at one another. Nysa ran her eyes up and down the other girl before she turned to exit the tent.
"Jayne," the elder one replied as she pressed the cloth to her mouth. "My name is Jayne Bracken," she added.
Nysa turned around to see that Jayne had either believed her story or decided to allow Nysa to take care of them. Ser Lucion was correct, the odds were better staying inside his tent than out there among the other guards - especially the Mountain. Jayne realized that being with Nysa was the lesser of two evils. She was still wary about the young woman who professed to be from the North but was in the tent of a Lannister knight.
"House Bracken of Stone Hedge," Nysa asked as Jayne nodded. Nysa took a step forward. "That means that you're loyal to House Tully. It's where Lady Stark is from."
Jayne nodded again. "This is my sister, Catelyn," she nodded to the younger girl - who could have been the same age as Sansa. "And this is Lyman Darry," she gestured to the boy.
"As in House Darry," Nysa raised an eyebrow as the boy nodded. "Is your father Ser Raymun?"
"He was," the boy looked down. "The Mountain killed him."
Nysa gulped and looked down as well. "I met your father," she said as Lyman looked up. "He came to King's Landing with Ser Marq and Ser Karyl to ask for help with the raids on their homes." Lyman tilted his head at her. "I stood next to Lord Stark as he denounced the Mountain, stripping him of all titles and lands," she bit her lips and looked off to another part of the tent. "It seems so long ago."
"You're the one who shot all the Lannister guards who attacked Lord Stark," Lyman spoke up excitedly.
Nysa shook her head but smiled gently, went to Jayne and removed the cloth to place a cream on her lip. "I did not shoot them all," she paused and looked with a teasing glint in her eye at the young boy. "Believe me I wanted to. My brother cut down some of them as well."
Lyman covered his mouth to hold back his laugh.
"How did you hear of that," she asked him as Jayne's cut was cleaned.
"One of the guards that was with my father was from the North. He told the story."
Nysa's head whipped towards him. "Harwin," she asked but the boy shrugged. "Did any of Lord Stark's guards survive?"
He shook his head, causing Nysa's shoulder to sag sadly. "But I think there are a couple of them still left. All I know is that my father and several of the others who were with them were killed by the Mountain. They sent men to recapture Darry for me but," he stopped and looked towards the tent at nothing in particular. "The Lannister's are still holding it. The Mountain killed my Aunt and her children. I don't know who will fight for me anymore."
Nysa knelt in front of him. "I'm sure that the other river lords will do so once they reclaim their castles. I believe that's why Lord Tywin is retreating right now - because the Lords are regrouping against him. And I know for a certainty that Robb would fight for you. He is loyal to those who are loyal to him. His father taught him that."
Lyman nodded sadly as his lip began to tremble. Nysa pulled him into her lap and let the boy cry. She had done it the other night with Darion - she did not care what the other Lannister knights thought of their young cousin. He had to mourn his mother.
Lyman started to cry as Nysa ran her hands through his hair. "You'll see your home, one day, Lyman. I promise you," she closed her eyes and began to hum a tune.
It was not long until both Lyman and Catelyn were settled in Ser Lucion's bed while Jayne and she sat a distance away.
"I know that that," she gestured to the bed, "is probably not the most proper thing for a young Lady and a little Lord to do but..."
"It's fine," Jayne nodded. "I think this is the first time they are able to sleep without worrying if one of those bastards will harm them."
"Have they," Nysa looked to Jayne and she shook her head. "What about you?"
Jayne looked down sadly. "I think they were waiting until we came back to camp. On the road they," she paused and shook her head. "There was a girl at a tavern, Layna. Her father wouldn't service them because they're Lannister men. They took her on the table, one by one," she started to cry. "I knew after her, it would have been me and my sister. I did everything to prolong my sister and hope that they'd take me first," she wiped her face furiously and then turned to Nysa. "If it's true that you shot Lannister guards, I want you to do it again."
"I will."
"I want those men who ride with the Mountain! I want them to die!"