*Jaime*

Today was the day. Jaime stood next to his horse, stroking his white mane. It had taken some time, but he had finally found a replacement for Joanna. She had been such a good horse, although he doubted there was anything left to her but bones that had been discarded.

So now he had his new horse. It was an odd fellow, to be sure. The main of his body was chestnut, but his mane was of a golden hue and a strip ran down between his eyes that were grey. He was a sure-footed beast, to be certain and had a keen intellect. The horse seemed to instinctively know his new master's handicapped state, so he would position him just so mounting him would be easy.

"A fine beast, Ser Jaime," Randyll Tarly said to him, stepping up close, his own horse with white coat with many of her spots of fur being a light grey.

"I think so," Jaime agreed. "His name is Tommen."

Randyll said nothing, but his harsh eyes and features seemed to soften a bit. The Lord nodded to him, and looked down to the Pass down beneath them. High rocks stuck out at various angles rising up the slopes that formed the sides of the Prince's Pass. These rock outcroppings hide a mighty host of a thousand Lannister Knights of their side of the pass. On the other was the Knights of the Reach, about nine-hundred souls.

At the end of the pass, in a tent city was the armies of the Reach. Unbeknownst to the Dornish forces approaching, the tents were filled with Lannister archers armed with cross-bows and swordsmen with sharp cold steel. The soldiers of the Reach could be seen milling about cook-fires for all to see. The Dorne would see the soldiers of the Reach and with no expectations of trouble, the lead elements would enter the camp, only to be ambushed.

Once the ambush had commenced, the Knights of the Reach and Casterly Rock would sweep down into the sides of the enemy host. All the while, archers on either side would be pouring arrows and bolts into the foe while further down the pass, footmen would rush the further part of the army. If all went according to plan, within the space of three hours, the Dornish horde would be broken, never to return to fight the rightful ruler of the Iron Throne.

"After this," Bronn said, patting down the muzzle of his own black beauty. "We need to have a serious discussion about my castle and wife."

"Don't you ever tire of whinging about that?" Jaime asked, shaking his head in annoyance.

"Don't you ever tire of not giving me my fucking due?" Bronn shot back.

"There will be time enough for all of that," Ser Preston Greenfield replied, calling from where he stood off to the right of the group. "Our first and only duty now will be to kill as many of these fuckers as we can before we get killed in turn."

"I only want to fight to get Aranne," Ser Arys called from next to his old compatriot.

The old members of the Kingsguard who had agreed to help Ser Jaime stood in close proximity to him, ready to mount their steeds at a moment's notice. Their white cloaks were gone, replaced with a silver cloak that would reflect the sunlight if caught just right.

Ser Osmund Kettleblack was sitting on his own horse, a leather-bound book in his hands. Jaime couldn't tell what the title was, but there was pictures in it of naked women. What more did a book need?

They had taken new names upon themselves. The Kingslayer Guards. As touched as Jaime was at their vote of confidence in him, he wasn't sure why they felt they needed to call themselves his guards. Did they think he was incapable of fighting? He may have lost his sword-hand, but even Bronn had grudgingly admitted that he was now nearly on par with what he felt that Jaime could have done before.

However, Bronn had never seen Jaime fight before, so he'd have to forgive Jaime for not taking a whole lot of comfort in it.

Jaime looked at his horse that carried his son's name. His hand rested on the hilt of the Valyrian Steel sword that hung from his right side. Widow's Wail, the sword given to his son as a wedding gift. It's brother, Oathkeeper had originally been given to Jaime by his father, but he had given it to Brienne when she went to go find Sansa Stark. Lastly, was the cloak that flowed from his back. He had it cleaned of the blood that had been on it, and now, it was as it had once been, a soft salmon pink with embroidered flowers that ran from the front.

Cersei had wanted to burn Myrcella's dress that she had died in, but Jaime's heart couldn't take it. He had been able to save it from the fire by knocking out the servant from behind with his golden hand. He had then given it to a dress maker who had been able to clean the blood. He had been able to have it sewn flat, using the plunging neck-line as the point when the dress could be attacked to his shoulders.

Wielding the sword that has been his eldest, his robe made of the dress that his beloved daughter had worn when she had died, and riding a horse that bore his youngest son's name, he would wreck havoc through the ranks of all the enemies of his House and family.

He grabbed the robe and brought it to his nose, smelling it. If he imagined hard enough, he could almost convince himself that he could smell the scent of his daughter in the cloth. He had been ridiculed by his eldest, had good discussions and moments with his youngest. Yet it was his daughter that he had felt the closest to, especially when he had been able to tell her the truth of their familial status.

"Here they come," Bronn said, inclining his head down to the Pass.

Jaime let the robe drop, as he looked down upon the approaching army. At the head was the Dornish cavalry, about two thousand knights. They wore light armor, preferring heavy robes that were the color of the sands of Dorne. Sunlight glinted off the spearheads.

"Alright," he addressed those gathered. "Pass the word to mount. But be quiet. Even though we have these rocks to hide us, they can still hear us."

"Good luck," Randyll Tarly said, mounting his war horse.

Gripping the saddle-horn, Jaime pulled himself up and settled into the seat, which curved well with the beasts body and fit his crotch nicely. Then, he settled in, watching the procession. They would wait, wait for the moment. The soldiers in the camps had standing orders of what to do and he'd wait for the commotion of the camp before he would charge down. The Knight of the Reach were under strict orders and he would expect them to follow the orders of Dickon Tarly, Randyll's son.

The long lines of marching Dorne approached the camp and he could feel the tension rising in the knights behind them. The time was coming closer that they would punish the Dorne for all the slights they had given the Realm. Jaime's eyes scanned the army, and his eyes rested on a cell-wagon that was in the middle of the vast host.

"Bronn," he called in a low voice. "You see the cage down there?"

"Aye," the sell-sword replied.

"I want you to take a few knights and charge it," Jaime said. "Anything the Dornish feel is important enough to cage and bring along is of importance to us."

"Alright," Bronn shrugged, "But that will cost you extra."

Jaime rolled his eyes. He really didn't feel like getting into it with him at the moment. Instead, he turned to watch the procession. They were entering the camp now, the first riders entering. He held up his hand slowly, his golden hand, and waited. Waited. Waited for the commotion that would give him the signal he needed.

Jaime's mind flashed back to a night long ago. He sat at the edge of his cot, his boots kicked off and tossed to the edge of the door. It had been a long campaign against Kingswood Brotherhood. He had performed well, saving his lord Sumner Crakehall and defeating the Smiling Knight in single combat. His tunic was covered in blood and he hadn't yet wiped off his blade.

No, now he just wanted to rest and revel in the moment. Just wait until he told Cersei! She would definitely take him in her mouth after such valiant tales! Oh, and just wait until he talked to Father! Tywin Lannister was a hard man to please, but how he would crow about his son's success! And there was Tyrion, his little brother would enjoy hearing about the valor of the battlefield!

He, a lowly squire! He had done all that. Now hopefully Ser Sumner wouldn't need him the rest of the night. He leaned back on his cot and closed his eyes, dreaming of his sister's young flower body. He had barely laid down his head though when there was a knock on his tent pole at the tent's entrance.

Jaime sighed. "Alright, I am coming, my lord," he said, sitting up. "What can I fetch for you….."

"Nothing for me," a man, tall with keen eyes and a close-trimmed beard said. He wore a white cloak and a three-headed dragon adorned his breastplate. "You, Jaime Lannister. You are a different story all together. Do you know who I am?"

"You are Ser Arthur Dayne!" Jaime's eyes went wide. "The Sword of the Morning!"

"Aye," the Dornishman said, standing before him. "I saw you perform well today, young Lannister. Yes, very well indeed."

"Thank you," Jaime said. Wow, this was really Ser Arthur Dayne! In his tent! His young heart could barely contain his excitement.

"Not as much as your master was thankful for what you did for him," Arthur Dayne smiled amused. "How would you like to be known as Ser Jaime?"

"Yes!" Jaime said excitedly, but curbed his enthusiasm. "Yet I still am to squire for two more years."

"Not anymore," Arthur Dayne said, "With the permission of your master, you will be knighted. On your knee, Jaime Lannister, so you can be knighted."

Jaime was so grateful he nearly fell over himself to…

The commotion had started in the camp. Jaime snapped back to the present and brought his golden hand down, and pointed straight ahead. With that, he drew his sword, the sun glinting off the Valyrian steel and with a flick of the reins with his golden hand, Tommen began down the slope. They moved around the rocks for a dozen yards, then suddenly the slops cleared off and the knights fanned out behind him.

"Hear me Roar!" Jaime bellowed the Lannister House Words as if they were a battle cry and charged forward at a full gallop. A thousand voices roared the same battle cry while he heard a few other house words being bellowed as well. Such as Randyll Tarly shouting "First in Battle!"

The Dornish were caught off guard and before they knew it, Jaime was in the thick of them. His sword swept down, his blade cutting off the face of a Dornish spearman was looked wide-eyed at the sudden appearance of so many unfriendly horses.

Within a mere minute, he had already cut down three men. A sea of yellow-skinned Dornish were before him, but they were parting before them as water parts for the boulders. Arrows flew past him from archers determined to fight, and he heard a crash. He looked back and saw a knight down. Three Dornish swordsman swarmed the downed knight.

Jaime didn't see the result of the conflict as he turned. A Dornish noble was trying to charge through the confusion as him, but the mass of bodies were holding him in check. Jaime felt something hit his horse, and he turned to see a new Dornish spearman who had been kicked against him by Ser Preston as he stabbed downwards against a man on the other-side.

Jaime twisted his sword and clenched it against his side. He reached over the side and smashed down on the other man's head with his golden hand. As the man dropped, Jaime slipped his hand around the spear shaft and jerked upwards. The spear dislodged from the unconscious man, and passing weapon between golden hand and regular hand, he freed his arm so he could twirl the spear and throw it at the Dornish noble. His aim was true and the spear imbedded in the man's gut. Jaime didn't wait to see the man die as he switched Widow's Wail from his golden hand to his flesh hand.

Before him the Dornish were rallying. Even as arrows began to fall among their ranks, dropping many of them, Jaime raised his sword and twirled it in the air. "Fall back and regroup!' he bellowed over the din of battle.

With that, he turned his horse and pressed into Tommen's flanks. He galloped out of the melee and most of the knights followed his example. Jaime didn't know where Bronn was, but he led his men from the melee, Randyll Tarly close behind him. The Kingslayer Guard were close behind him. He galloped past the bodies of many dead Dornishmen. Here and there a Lannister knight was down, either dead or fighting on foot. They did not slow to collect their brethren, as these men were too surrounded to save.

Up the slope they galloped up and raising Widow's Wail, he circled the blade in the air. The host checked their horses and turned to face down the slope. The jutting rocks to their backs, they prepared to attack. But, that was when another roar rose, but this time from the other side of the Pass. Many of the Dornishmen turned to see what was behind them, but it was only now that the Knights of the Reach thundered down, plowing into the exposed backs of the Dornish.

At the same time, more roars rose in the air and both sides of the Pass were suddenly filled with screaming foot soldiers. Jaime waited for the foot soldiers to hit. They soon did, and the entire pass was filled with the sounds of sword against sword, steel on wood and the tearing sound of flesh being torn apart.

Jaime watched the front line of the soldiers advancing towards them waver as they were unsure where to go. Just then several officers rode up to them. At first he couldn't tell the gender, but then their shrill voices pierced the din of battle screaming as only women could. Valiantly, the front rank began to advance forward, shields held together, locked and spears and swords pointed forward.

"Now would be a good time to give the fuckers a lesson," Osmund Kettleblack said, sweat already pouring down his face. Jaime glanced across the Pass and saw the Reach's knights begin to wheel and retreat up the slope. Once they reached the outcroppings, they would turn and wait their turn to charge again.

"I agree," Jaime shouted, pointing his sword forward. "Charge!"

"Finally!" Randyll Tarly roared in approval and the knights thundered back down the valley.

Downwards they charged, heavy in armor and the sun catching off hundreds of sword blades and the silver cloaks of the Kingslayers Guard. His focus zeroed in on one warrior, a woman without helmet and hair done up in a bun. She had a spear aimed right for him. Soon he was so close that Tommen screamed in horse fury as he smashed into the woman. She staggered from the impact, only to have Randyll Tarly slam into her, and she disappeared under a thousand hooves.

The front line broke apart and routed. One of the officers charged him, screaming as sword was raised in the air. He smiled, and leaning forward, he charged towards her. She swung for him but he deftly dodged it, checking his steed and pulling up behind her. She tried to turn, but she wasn't nearly as fast as Jaime was. He was on her in an instant and he swung his blade.

She caught his blade awkwardly, parrying three strikes. She turned and fury in her eyes, she swung her arm up and back, ready to slice down. However, she had opened herself to Jaime. With a quick thrust, he sliced her through the right breast and with a slashing jerk, yanked the blade out and sideways. The woman grabbed her bleeding breast as she toppled off her horse, the blood pouring far faster then she could stop.

An axe slammed down onto his golden hand, getting caught. Jaime looked at the soldier, a spry little fellow with no meant on his bones. Desperately, the man tried to yank his axe out of the hand that refused to yield it. Jaime tutted twice before he swung his blade down and forwards, the cutting motion removing both man's hands. Blood geysered onto Jaime's leg and Myrcella's dress as the man screamed.

"Don't worry," Jaime assured him, "You'll get used to it."

Jaime turned, looking for new enemies in the maelstrom of combat, and spotted her. The oval face, the short hair of brown that was curled. His hand gripped his sword tightly, anger and hatred pouring into him. Pure rage turned his entire vision red.

"There is something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you long ago. Now that you have seen more of the world….." Jaime spurred Tommen forward and he pounded forward, his sword slashing from here to there, cutting down all in his way. "You have learned how complicated things can be, how people can be."

A Dornishman's head went flying off, but he had only one true target. "We don't choose who we love." She was trying to rally her troops, spouting of vengeance and hate. "We just…it is just something beyond our control. I sound like an idiot." His sword cleaved the arm off the last man between him and her.

"No, you don't." She turned to him, and her eyes widened as she suddenly realized her danger. "What I am trying to say, what…what I am failing to say…" One of the Sand Snakes, those bitches came charging him, swinging a whip as if he were a misbehaving horse. "I know what you are trying to say." He caught the whip in his sword and punched her hard across the face with his metallic hand. "No, I'm afraid you don't."

The whip was pulled from her hand and with a slash, he cut through her cheeks, tearing out teeth with the blow. "Yes, I do." She grabs his hand. "I know." Jaime rushes past her, Ellaria turning to flee. "About you and mother. I think a part of me always knew." Her horse was too slow and the other Sand Snake, the one with the spear, fell after a few quick strikes. His sword cut downwards and the horse tumbled to the ground. Ellaria was thrown to the ground, pinned by the horse.

Jaime dropped off the horse. The battle raged all around him, but the knights of the Reach had rejoined the fray and the Dornish army was dissolving into a mass without order. No one cared for the bastard bitch that had dragged them into war. They now only cared for their own survival.

"Do you know what she said to me, at the end?" he asked, stalking up to her, Widow's Wail seeming to burn with a hunger in his hands. Ellaira looked up at him, fear filling her eyes. "'I'm glad. I'm glad you are my father.'"

"Please….." Ellaria begged but with a fierce kick of the heel of his boot, he smashed into the side of her face. He could feel the teeth cracking at the contact of leather soles against flesh and bone.

"You stole her from me," Jaime growled, pacing around Ellaria. She spat blood from her mouth. His voice cracked as he spoke. "You stole her from me right as I finally for the first time in my life was able to embrace her as my daughter. Do you know how vile that was? How it's haunted me every day? It breaks my heart on a nightly basis to know that the one child that knew I was her father, died the same moment we acknowledged that fact to each other. Do you know she was whispering my name in the end? 'Pape, papa, papa' begging me to save her, even though I couldn't."

He set the tip of Widow's Wail on Ellaria's throat. Her eyes grew wide as she realized he wasn't going to take her alive.

"Well guess what, you vile bitch?" he spat in her face, "I take your life from you. And guess what?" he grabbed his robe and pulled it around, so she could see the embroidered flowers and pink silk. "Myrcella is here as well."

And with that, he let go of the robe. Taking his golden hand up, he pounded it down on the pommel like a hammer and the blade drove down.

To be continued with Episode 7: Dragonglass...

Episode Notes:

-I originally planned to have a chapter from Meera's POV in the last episode but I abandoned it for the Bran chapter. I was going to do it in this episode, but I wanted to focus on the main characters we focused on.

-The Sons of Morzan storyline has ended in this chapter.

-I actually was going to finish the Arya chapter with her picking a direction, but not revealing which direction she had chosen. But I felt that less was more with that scene.

-The end-game for this fan season was actually established this episode, and if you are really keen-minded, you may have spotted it!

-I originally had it planned where the Battle of the Prince's Pass was going to be seen from several POVs. It was going to go from Ellaria/Jaime/Ser Arys/Bronn. I also was going to have the flashback be about the moment when Cersei convinced Jaime to become a Kingsguard by giving up the goods to him, as it were.

-The battle-cry of "First In Battle" as the motto of House Tarly is not canonical, but is semi-canonical, as in it's been adopted at their motto without official confirmation from any source.

-I really liked the idea that Jaime would have made Myrcella's dress from when she was murdered into a robe, and that he would ride into battle carrying and riding reminds of his children. Such as Jon who has Ned's values, Jeor Mormont's sword and Mance Rayder's dislike for bending the knee, taking the values of his father-figures. Also, who can't love the image of Myrcella being there at the end in a way to see her murderer's death!

-The theme was gifts for this episode. Bran's gift was his crutches and leg braces. Arya's was advice from a hero of hers. Cersei's was getting the Realm out of debt. And Jaime's was revenge against Ellaria Sand.

-Bran's crutches and leg braces were partially inspired by one episode of Vikings where Ivar the Boneless was given crutches which were part crutch, part spear.

-We are officially a fourth of the way through the season!