A/N: Yes I tragically died, but I lived! I do apologize for taking so long to update this fic properly but after exploiting my HBO max subscription, and re-reading a little bit of ASOIAF's first book, I decided to continue this.
First, I do like that some of you have enjoyed how I've portrayed Youmu here. Secondly, I gave her some of Syrio's lines since I figured that to some degree, Youki's philosophy could be similar to Syrio. Thirdly, some events will play out how they did according to the series proper, but there are definitely going to be some significant changes, especially with how the War of the Five Kings ends.
Winter is coming.
But it doesn't feel like Winter. The Stark words echoed in Youmu's head as she made her way to the king's chambers. Her presence was requested to give a progress report after a week of being here.
In truth, she had none. She was no closer to getting back to Hakugyokurou than she was when she arrived in Winterfell several months reports of fleets appearing and disappearing on a whim hadn't really gone anywhere for her as a lead, but she did find something a little more interesting.
The empire of Yi-Ti, and the land of Asshai even further beyond that, was said to be a realm of mysticism and dark, powerful magicks. Some of the legends she read stated that sorcerers who were trained in Asshai's dark arts were able to move from place to place with only stepping through a doorway. Whether or not that was true remained to be seen, but it did give Youmu some hope that she could find some way to learn or use that magic herself.
That required a rather long, arduous journey through the Narrow Sea and Essos, which is honestly not something she was willing to commit to at this point. Youmu knew that this most likely wasn't what Robert wanted to hear, but it was the truth, and she knew better than to lie to a king.
She arrived at the door to the king's room, only to find it being guarded by one of the kingsguard. Upon closer inspection, Youmu saw that it was Ser Meryn due to the bright red beard and droopy green eyes.
"Good afternoon, Ser Meryn," she started with a pleasant smile with her hands behind her back, "the king requested my presence. Is he available?"
The man turned and looked down to the gardener and her floating phantom half with indifference. The sound of squealing and yelping could be faintly heard on the other side of the door as he replied. "You can probably tell that he's not quite ready for you unless you happen to be his next whore," what did he just say? "You're welcome to piss off until you get another summons, m'lady."
Youmu's eyes widened and was taken aback by just how blunt the knight was with her. That was...quite rude in all honesty..It took her a moment to regain her composure before she was able to respond. "I...excuse me?" Her eyes were as wide as saucers.
"Did I stutter, m'lady? Piss off." His voice sounded irritated.
"I'm merely doing what I was instructed to do!" Her voice had raised, and her fists were now clenched.
Ser Meryn turned to face Youmu as his right hand moved to the sword at his left hip. The squealing, yelping, and moaning got louder. "And I'm doing what I'm instructed to do, woman," he began, "and that's to keep the king from having any visitors, so unless you're waiting your turn in his bed, bugger off before I decide to remove that tongue of yours."
Youmu was just about to reply when she saw his hand grip the hilt of his sword. Her mouth closed into a thin line while her eyes stared daggers at the knight that had so rudely disrespected her.
"Calm down, Ser Meryn," a suave voice was heard around the corner being Meryn, "Are you truly going to maim the honored guest of the king?" The source of the voice turned the corner, and it happened to be Ser Jaime Lannister.
Her eyes went to the kingslayer once the knight in front of her turned to him as well. "She was disrespecting the king."
"Wishing to be seen when summoned isn't disrespecting His Grace. If anything, it shows that she's quite prudent when someone of authority wants to see her." Jaime leaned against the wall in front of the knight with a bit of a smirk on his lips, "now thank you for standing guard while I was away, but you may go. I'm sure you have some girls just waiting for you to slap around."
The last comment by the other man caused Meryn to bristle up, flush, and hastily walk away from the pair. The kingslayer shook his head before giving a brief bow to Youmu. "My apologies, my lady. Ser Meryn just seems to have a rather large stick up his arse today."
Her attitude had mellowed out now, though his last comment on Trant's proclivities made her just a tad curious even if it wasn't her place to ask. "It's...alright," she was still a bit offended, "guard duty can be a bit tiresome if you're in the wrong mood. I know from experience."
The moaning and squealing had quieted down, though the noises were still reaching Youmu's ears, causing her face to flush a light pink. Jaime continued. "I hope you don't hold it against the man. He does a fine job in the kingsguard, even if he is a bit…" he trailed off, "brutish."
"I understand. His comments were quite uncalled for though."
"Oh I agree, and I'll reprimand him for them." His body language seemed relaxed, but Youmu could tell that he was still a bit guarded due to their last interaction two months ago.
"And...my own comments were uncalled for back in Winterfell," she started, "They were...uninformed. I spoke to your brother after dinner that night and it made me realize that I was out of line. I deeply apologize for presuming the worst of you." Youmu bowed deeply after apologizing, and while she couldn't see it, Jaime's eyebrow raised.
"Do not worry yourself. It isn't the first time someone always assumed the worst of me at first glance." A smile formed on his face, "but apologizing is a bit humble for someone like you, isn't it?"
She stood back up fully and let out a small breath. "If someone like me didn't apologize, then I'd just be a dishonorable individual and my mistress would be dishonored by proxy"
An eyebrow raised again. "Is that so? What changed your perception of me?"
"Well, you're the youngest kingsguardsmen ever to be appointed, your skilled with a blade, one of the youngest knights in general.." Youmu trailed off and cleared her throat, "you're a...fascinating man, Ser Jaime."
Jaime smirked this time. "As are you, my lady. How did you come to have half your soul outside of your body?"
Youmu blinked and thought about it for a moment. "I...am not sure," she began, "all I know is that my kind is rather rare, we aren't created, we're born."
"So your father had a ghost wife?"
"Uh, no." Youmu rubbed the back of her head and curled her lips to the side, "I just...I was born this way. My father was half-phantom as well. I'm not sure where we come from, all I know is that we're made like every other human."
The man nodded along. "Very interesting," he looked to the door where the squealing and moaning was still going on.
The gardener turned a shade of pink and fidgeted in place just before she pulled a note out from her skirt pocket. "I, er, can tell that the king isn't going to be done for a while," Youmu handed the note to Jaime, "if you could give my report to him then that would be great. I know it isn't much, but it was still requested."
He took it, looked it over briefly, then nodded to the girl. "I will, my lady. Are you still wanting to have a duel?"
"I'd like to at some point, yes."
"And you aren't participating in the Hand's Tourney?" He sounded amused. "I would've thought Robert would've made an exception for you."
"If he did then I probably wouldn't want to participate. I wouldn't want every knight in the tourney to lose their honor after being beaten by a girl."
"A girl with a soul outside of her body and with enough strength to push a horse and its rider over."
"But still a girl."
"There have been lady knights before, you know."
"I know, but I'm not here to make a name for myself, Ser Jaime." Youmu turned to leave, "I'm here to go home."
"With all due respect, Lady Youmu, you apparently haven't done a good job of that if what this note says is true."
She stopped and glanced back at him. "That's true, but there are still many things I've yet to research that'll aid in my journey."
Jaime was just about to let her go before he spoke once more. "A quick question, Lady Youmu."
She stopped and turned, a curious gaze on her face.
"The king and I were having a discussion, as was Ser Barristan. The king asked…" Jaime trailed off, "he asked who our First was" Youmu looked confused. "Our first kill. Have you killed anyone, Youmu?"
The question stunned her for a moment. She frowned. "I- no. I haven't."
"A lady armed as you are and you haven't cut someone's head off."
"Rules of engagement are a bit different where I'm from." Her arms crossed. "We fight with rules, and permanent harm is against those."
"I see," he smiled, "but would you be willing to kill anyone who threatened you?"
The question mulled around in her head for a moment before she replied. "If I have to defend myself or others I care about, then yes. I wouldn't hesitate for a moment."
Two more weeks had passed, and the tournament was fast approaching with only a few days before it started. Several lords and ladies and knights all gathered in the city. The inns were full, the brothels were fuller, and money was flowing into the local economy. Youmu received her first payment, five-thousand dragons. Gold.
She spent at least a good minute or two just staring at the large coin purse in front of her before getting a rough count of how many she was truly given. Yep, five-thousand dragons. Youmu could hardly believe it as she shook her head.
The Mast of Coin, Petyr Baelish, had been the one to drop the large purse on the table in her room. His smile was impish, and his gray-green eyes were filled with childlike curiosity. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Youmu."
Youmu regarded the man with apprehension. There was just something about that smile, those eyes, and the way he carried himself just screamed do not trust me. "And to you, Lord Baelish. Thank you for the gold," her phantom half floated closer to her, which made it look a bit defensive in nature.
He smiled again. "Thank the realm, not me," he moved to the door with his hands clasped in front of him, "the sooner you're able to leave us, the better." His voice was raspy, low, and sweet.
"Is that so?" She danced a coin between her fingers while she followed his gaze.
"Yes. Ghosts roaming free, and ladies whose ghosts reside outside of them, could indicate that the end times are upon us."
"Well I hope to leave as soon as possible. Worst case scenario for me is that I'll have to go to Essos, so if anyone in Westeros is on edge, they can take comfort in that."
"Indeed." Petyr bowed respectfully and left the room.
Youmu relaxed back in her chair after exhaling a breath she didn't know she'd held in. Something about Baelish, or Littlefinger as others called him, just sent shivers down her spine. It was the same vibe that Yukari gave her whenever she visited Yuyuko.
The gardener soon took a blank piece of parchment, along with a quill and ink, and began to draw something. Her training with Arya had gone very well, and it turned out that the youngest Stark girl was somewhat of a natural. It made it a bit easier to get Arya familiar with the style needed for a katana.
She knew Needle was an important weapon to her, and had been told that her half brother Jon was the one who commissioned it from Winterfell's smith, but it wasn't exactly suited for the slicing and cutting motions she'd been getting used to. Youmu promised to teach the girl the appropriate style for Needle, and she will, but she also wanted to gift Arya with a proper sword that she could use into her adulthood.
Youmu carefully drew the outline of a katana on the parchment minus the tsuka (hilt) so the tang was visible. Then, she labeled the blade's measurements and came out to a good twenty-four inches. For a girl of Arya's height, it's not too long to be unwieldy, but it also isn't too short so it would become useless as she grew up.
Next, she drew a crude picture of the tsuka and tsuba (handguard) with the tsuba being two direwolf heads
She examined the drawing and clicked her tongue. The main problem will be finding someone who's skilled enough to forge a blade so different from the longswords and broadswords. She wasn't going to have the blacksmith make it with the traditional method of folding steel over several layers since that didn't make sense when they had access to better iron and steel in Westeros.
No, this sword would be unique in Westeros, and unique to Arya Stark.
Content with the design, she attached her purse to her side, folded the paper into her skirt, and grabbed a large sack she could wear over a shoulder to hide her other half. When she first arrived, Youmu tried to not hide, but the few times she left the keep, people hid, ran, and stared at her with scared eyes.
It forced her to relent and hide her phantom half when outside of the castle, which wasn't often, but it was still an irritant to her.
She held up a map of King's Landing and traced her route once she got down to the stables and onto her horse. She'd need to go to the Street of Steel near the River Gate to find the shop she was looking for in particular.
Youmu wore her usual outfit with a green vest, short-sleeved shirt underneath, and knee-length green skirt with white ghost swirls along the hem. She also threw on a gray half-cloak over her left side that was joined by a direwolf pin to signify her allegiance with House Stark. Youmu hoped that it would help her get a bit more attention from the blacksmith.
She set out on her trip, which took a good hour to get all the way to the Street of Steel and finally to the shop she was looking for. It was at the top of the winding hill the street went up, and it was hard to miss.
A beautiful house carved out timber and plaster with upper stories that loomed over the narrow street was what awaited her. Youmu slipped off her horse, tied it up, and made her way to the large double doors that were carved out of ebony and weirwood. A pair of stone knights stood sentry at the entrance, armored in fanciful suits of polished red steel that transformed them into griffin and unicorn.
She pushed her way inside and glanced around before her eyes settled on a servant girl, who quickly left to fetch her master. Youmu sat herself in a chair and waited, and thankfully didn't have to wait too long. A man entered the room wearing a black velvet coat with hammers embroidered on the sleeves in silver thread and a heavy silver chain with a bright blue sapphire.
He smiled at the small gardener, who stood up and bowed. "Welcome to my shop, my lady," he started, "what brings you by today?"
"Are you Tobho Mott?"
"I am, and this is my establishment."
Youmu smiled and pulled out the sketch she drew. "I wish to commission a sword for you. I was told that you're the best in King's Landing at arms and armor."
Tobho's smile grew wider. "Any village smith can pound out a shirt of mail, but I make art, my lady, and my prices reflect that." His eyes darted to the Stark direwolf, "I didn't know you were with the Hand of the King."
"I'm the King's and Hand's honored guest, yes," she started before advancing towards the man, "this blade I wish to craft is unusual."
He faltered a bit, but kept his air of confidence. "I assure you that my smiths are up to the task, and if they are not, I will do it myself."
Youmu held out the piece of paper for him to look at. Tobho did his best to try and not laugh at how crude it really was. She wasn't an artist, so it looked as though a child drew the sketch. After getting a minute to examine the blade style, however, he paused and gazed intently at it.
His eyes looked to Youmu's side where both of her own swords were, then he pointed. "May I see the longer sword? I may have experience in making something like this."
Youmu was taken aback and she blinked. How would you have experience? There aren't any samurai in Westeros. However, she drew Roukanken and held it sideways with her hands holding it up for him.
Tobho leaned down and scratched at the stubble of hair on his chin. "Ah yes. It's been a while, but I have forged a sword like this before. It took me many times to get it right, but it was an interesting learning experience."
"You have?" She was curious now, "how long ago?"
"About five years. An old hunchbacked man with a long white beard showed up and wanted a replacement for his broken sword. It wasn't cheap, but he had the money. Said it was a present for his granddaughter."
Her eyes narrowed. "I see...would you be able to make one for me, then? I have fifteen-hundred gold dragons if you do."
The money made him perk up and smile once more. "Aye, I can do it for that, my lady," he took the paper once more, "just normal steel right? The man had me reforge a Valyrian steel sword to get his."
Youmu's eyes widened. Valyrian steel? Must have been quite a rich man to get ahold of one of the sharpest swords ever to still exist in this world. There were less than two thousand in the world alone, and only a hundred or so in Westeros.
"Just normal steel, yes. I would like it colored grey if that's possible, with white cotton wrapping for the hilt. Will ray skin be hard to get ahold of?"
"Ray skin? Yes, and it'll add an extra month or so onto the project." He smiled down at her as Youmu sheathed her sword.
"I'm alright with waiting. I'm not in any rush, my lord," Youmu stated before her head tilted to the side and looked to the counter to motion to the scale, "shall we settle the price?"
"Yes, let's." Tobho was quite pleased with the sudden well-off client and eagerly settled on the time, work, and effort needed to forge the weapon, as well as its length and ornamental features.
Youmu's purse was noticeably lighter now that she gave away fifteen-hundred of her first allowance, and was eager to get back to the keep.
She turned to leave when the double doors swung open, and she settled on the black-gray eyes of Eddard Stark. Youmu blinked with surprise before she smiled. "My lord," she began, "are you commissioning something for the tourney?"
He shook his head and raised an eyebrow. "What brought you here, Lady Youmu?"
"I'm having a new sword forged, and I was told that Tobho Mott's forge is the best in the city. His prices certainly reflect that…" She trailed off before she made her way to the door.
Eddard grabbed her bicep and leaned down to whisper. "Wait for me outside, and I will explain. Something is wrong, and I intend to find out."
Her smile faded, and she nodded. "I'll help however I can." Her voice whispered back before she broke away and left the forge.
She only waited a good forty-five minutes before Ned exited as well. He spoke a command to the companions he arrived with and they rode on ahead. This gave the pair some privacy to some degree as they mounted their horses.
Ned spoke first. "Can I trust you, Youmu?"
Youmu blinked. "Of course."
"Implicitly?"
Her brow furrowed. "What's this about, Lord Stark? Yes, you can."
"Good, because I believe the previous Hand of the King was murdered, and I think it has to do with the fact that he found one of Robert's bastards working in a forge."
Why did I have to go and do the thing that I didn't want to do and get involved in politics? Youmu was irritated, disgruntled, and most certainly not happy. She had a rather long conversation with Ned Stark about his investigation into the murder of Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King before Ned.
He mentioned Littlefinger helping him find Robert's bastards, and his wife Catelyn visiting King's Landing to inform him of an attempt on the life of Bran, the second-youngest Stark child who had fallen from a tower while climbing it.
"But why tell me all this and get me involved?" She'd asked.
"Because I don't want you to know just how deadly and cunning people like the Lannisters are. Even the Imp if what Littlefinger told me is true."
It left a bad taste in her mouth. The one conversation that she had with Tyrion had been rather pleasant, as was the second discussion with Jaime. Granted, she didn't have a good first impression of Queen Cersei or Prince Joffrey, but she was sure she could salvage that relationship if given time.
Youmu shook her head and sighed while a hand ran through her hair. Was she just being manipulated again? It wouldn't be the first time.
A lot in Gensokyo strung her along, including the most recent event when she was possessed by an otter spirit. She journeyed into Hell to investigate animal spirits attacking the world of the living, and in the end, couldn't tell if the spirit was lying to her, or the god she fought, Keiki, was the liar.
Now though? This wasn't just a potentially dangerous game of danmaku. In her mind, her life was in serious danger now that she knew what Lord Stark was up to. Enemies could be everywhere, and they could even be those she's trusted for the last several months.
Youmu already had two prime candidates: Varys, and Littlefinger. Something about Varys sent chills up her spine, and Littlefinger still emitted that aura of...Yukari-ness. The kind of aura and presence that one knew everything and nothing at the same time, and always kept you guessing for what their motive was.
Several more days passed after this revelation of knowledge, and now Youmu was riding in a palanquin with Sansa Stark, Septa Mordane, and Jeyne Poole. The curtains of the palanquin was a bright yellow silk that was so fine you could see right through it. They turned the world into a near-glowing gold color.
The sight of thousands of people outside the King's Gate in and around the tourney grounds was truly a sight to behold. Banners flapped and snapped in the wind, the knights looked galant and gleaming while they mingled with each other.
The palanquin set down and everyone disembarked. Youmu stepped out first and looked around. She was dressed like a proper lady for once with a long green dress that went down to her ankles and an embroidered ghost insignia on the left breast. Her sleeves reached her wrists and her wakizashi was at her left hip.
She turned to help Sansa out of the palanquin with a smile. "What do you think, Sansa?"
The eleven-year-old's eyes were like saucers as they settled on the sight of hundreds of knights that had numerous songs composed in their honor. The kingsguard had taken the field dressed in their white armor and cloaks with Jaime Lannister leading the rest with his own white cloak, but bright gold armor with an ornate lion helmet and a golden sword. He smiled and waved to the crowd.
Youmu spotted The Hound riding alongside his brother, Ser Gregor Clegane, who was better known as the Mountain That Rides. A tinge of anger and pity was felt for the burned man as it turned out he'd been given a permanent limp as a result of his horse falling on him and then being pinned against him. A shame that he wasn't killed. The life of a butcher's son is not equal to the sworn sword of Joffrey Baratheon, it seems.
Her eyes saw the bald head of Thoros of Myr, a man wearing a red cloak and supposedly belonged to the religion of the Lord of Light, and even scaled the walls of Pyke with a flaming sword.
The last knights she settled on were Ser Jared, Ser Hosteen, Ser Danwell, Ser Emmon, Ser Theo, Ser Perwyn, sons and grandsons of old Lord Walder Frey, and his bastard son Martyn Rivers. Youmu, Sansa, Jeyne, and Mordane were all led to the gallery near the king and queen.
Robert stood up with a large horn of black beer in his right hand, which seemed to force all the spectators to be seated, Youmu included. He motioned down in the direction that she and Sansa were seated, and he spoke in a booming voice. "Normally I'd have my new Hand start us off, but I'll have my honored guest do it for 'im!"
Youmu's eyes widened and she audibly gulped as every eye, knights included, settled on her tiny frame. She was suddenly quite infuriated at being called out, but...it'd be rude to ignore an order from a king after all, so she stood up. Her phantom half was floating at her right side as she cleared her throat and held out her left hand toward the dirt track and smiled. "Let the games begin!" She shouted, though it came across as more shrill than she wanted it to.
People chuckled, cheered, and applauded before she bowed and sat back down. Her ghost half floated down into her lap as the tourney began with the first jousting matches of the day.
Jory Cassel tied with a man named Lothor Brune, Jaime Lannister and Barristan Selmy unseated every rider they matched with, and the Mountain thundered through every opponent as if they were insignificant fleas.
"Do they have tourneys like these where you're from, Lady Youmu?"
She turned to Septa Mordane who'd questioned her. She shook her head. "No. We have tournaments for martial arts, but nothing as amazing and extravagant as this," Youmu motioned to the crowd and knights all around them. It was a sight to behold for the half-phantom.
While Sansa and Jeyne squealed every time lances collided with shields, Youmu was fixated on each and every move, and only flinched when knights were thoroughly unseated. Something was different when Ser Gregor took to the field for his second match. His opponent was a newly minted knight from the Vale, and this tourney was his first, and sadly last, joust.
Gregor and the young man crashed lances, except the tip of Clegane's lance jammed right into the other knight's neck and broke off. The knight tumbled from his horse and landed a solid ten feet from where Youmu was seated.
Her eyes went wide. She'd seen Mycah die, but he was a boy who was murdered. This was an accident. A terrible, bloody accident. Even ten feet away she could hear the guttural gurgles as blood pumped freely from the open wound created by the lance that was still lodged in his throat. The pulses of blood slowed and then stilled as his heart stopped and his eyes stared blankly at the bright blue sky that matched his blue cloak that was trimmed with crescent moons, but as his blood seeped into it, the cloth darkened and the moons turned red, one by one.
It was the first man she'd seen die in front of her. Death just wasn't so common in Gensokyo, even for the human village that had capital punishment. This was just so surreal to her though. All the poems and songs glorifying and romanticizing death rang hollow in her head now.
Death isn't pretty. She thought. Death is ugly and messy and violent.
Jeyne Poole became so hysterical that Septa Mordane had to carry her off so she could regain her composure, but both Youmu and Sansa stared and watched with a strange fascination.
The corpse wouldn't be there for long, as men ran out and carried him off while a boy came out with a spade and covered up the blood with fresh dirt, which made it seem that no one had ever died in the arena.
The last match of the day was between Ser Loras Tyrell, commonly known as the Flower Knight, and Ser Robar Royce. Ser Loras wore the prettiest plate she'd ever seen as it was intricately fashioned and enameled as a bouquet of a thousand different flowers while his snow white stallion wore a blanket of white and red roses.
Loras easily unseated Royce with one pass, which caused the crowd to erupt in a thunderous applause as the Flower Knight made his horse prance around the arena triumphantly before he came to a stop in front of the gallery that Sansa and Youmu.
For all the ladies that Ser Loras visited, he gave them a white rose, but to Sansa, he gave her a red one. "Sweet lady," he said, "no victory is half as beautiful as you."
The Stark girl took the red rose with trembling hands and was dumbstruck by the knight's gallantry. Youmu could see why with his flowing golden hair and air of chivalry.
The crowds were soon dismissed and dinner was served. Sansa, Septa Mordane, and Youmu were all given places of honor to the left on the raised dais where the king sat with the queen. Youmu was seated on the edge of the table where she had a clear view of the six large aurochs that had been roasting all day. Her stomach growled hungrily as they were buttered and spiced with herbs before being served to everyone.
She was poured a cup of sweet red arbor wine by a servant and was never low on refreshments while munching through her meal. Wine wasn't a drink she'd had often, but whenever she did, it was some of the best in alcohol that Yukari brought with her from the outside world. This wine came close to the best vintages Yukari shared, and that was good enough for her.
The auroch was cooked to perfection. The steak was so tender that its meat practically melted in her mouth, so much so that it was probably one of the best meals she'd ever had.
The wine kept flowing all night while she conversed lightly with Septa Mordane but never truly engaged in full-fledged conversation, especially since Sansa was seated next to Joffrey, who she was doing her best to avoid.
Sansa was enamoured and starry-eyed with everything the boy prince said and did. He even fed her one of the cooked snails with his own hand! He's certainly trying his best. She watched idly as her energy lulled while her mind clouded under the effects of the wine. Youmu thought it best to try and retire for the night, but her tired and bored look seemed to draw the attention of Joffrey.
"Is something wrong, my lady?" He asked curiously, "is the entertainment too drab?"
"She's probably just exhausted, my prince," Sansa spoke up sympathetically, "it's been a rather long day, after all, and Lady Youmu's been up since the early morning dealing with my sister."
"Ah." He understood completely, "dealing with that little animal would be rather tiring, I assume. I didn't think you came here to be a caretaker, Lady Ghost."
The nickname earned a twitch from the half phantom, but she did her best to smile. "It's easier than you think, my lord. All Arya needed was a hobby that she enjoyed." Her words were a little slurred from the wine.
Joffrey was just about to respond when Robert spoke up in a loud, booming voice. "No," his voice thundered, "you do not tell me what to do, woman!" He shouted at Cersei, "I am king here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, I will fight!"
Youmu's eyes darted from the prince to the king, and watched in awe as he publicly and openly treated his wife and queen. She'd only caught a glimpse of how harsh Robert could be while on the Kingsroad, but the sudden outburst was interesting to watch.
If Cersei was angry she didn't show it. Her face was as pale as Youmu's as she gathered up her skirts and turned to leave with several servants following behind her.
Jaime put a hand on the king's shoulder, which he shrugged off and shoved at the other man. The kingslayer stumbled and fell as Robert drunkenly cackled. "I can still knock you in the dirt! Remember that, Kingslayer!" He slapped a hand against his chest. "Give me my hammer and not a man in the realm can stand before me!"
The Lannister knight finally stood and brushed himself off. "As you say, Your Grace." His voice was stiff and apprehensive.
The half-phantom tuned out whatever other conversation and moved to leave, but stumbled as her left foot caught part of her dress and caused her to fall over on her face. She landed on the ground with a thud.
She thought she got away without being noticed, but the loud howling laughter and shrill giggling of Robert and Joffrey smashed those hopes. Youmu quickly scrambled to her feet while her face turned as red as a cherry while she made an effort to brush her dress off from the dirt that quickly accumulated on it, but it was hopeless.
Jaime spoke up once more. "Your Grace, I believe your guest of honor is quite drunk," he started. "Might I walk her back to the keep? It's awfully late after all and I fear that she may get lost."
Robert waved his kingsguard off while continuing to laugh, but Jaime had already placed a gauntlet-covered hand on Youmu's shoulder. "It's time to get you to your room, my lady."
The gardener huffed in embarrassment, but didn't fight the helping hand as she walked and stumbled out of the tent as the festivities resumed.
They walked in silence for a good while until they came within sight of the Red Keep. Youmu spoke in a small mumble. "Thank you for the assistance, Ser Jaime…"
A smirk creased his lips. "I guess you found out that you couldn't hold your drink, my lady."
"I never can," she crossed her arms, "but the wine was very good, and it never stopped."
"You could've always told the servants to bring you water."
"I-," Youmu started, "I'm not used to asking others for things."
"Is that so? Might I ask why?"
"Well, I'm a servant myself. The gardener of the Netherworld and servant to its governess."
Jaime raised an eyebrow at that and glanced down at the small gardener in his grasp. "Someone as unique as you is a...gardener?" He almost couldn't believe it. "You profess to wield a sword that can cut through anything, your soul is outside of your body, and yet you're a gardener."
"My father was gardener before me. I merely inherited the position when he left." She frowned and hiccuped, which caused another blush to flash across her cheek.
"Are you...paid for your services?"
"Not until recently, and that's only because I asked permission from my mistress to open a school teaching boys of a village I frequent the basics in swordplay."
"So you're a slave."
Her head shot up and she looked directly at him. "I am not. I'm...I'm not sure what I'd call myself."
The pair came to the Red Keep and they paused briefly after Youmu leaned against a wall. "If you want to, you can return to the party and your king. I should be able to find my way back from here."
Jaime smiled, the white of his teeth being visible in the torchlight. "I would rather fall on my sword than go back there."
Her eyes widened before she let out a fit of giggles, which was joined by the chuckling of the Kingslayer. "Very well, ser. My room is near the council chamber."
He led her there with Youmu occasionally stumbling and bracing herself against a nearby wall. Jaime was, thankfully, the very image of a gallant knight who did what was best for a lady such as Youmu. When they arrived at the room, he led her to her bed before stepping back to the door. "Sleep well, my lady. Do not dwell on the events tonight. They were only the actions of a drunk girl and they'll be forgotten."
Youmu managed a nod. "Thank you for the kind words, Ser Jaime, and thank you for leading me back."
Arya fell back on her bottom with a thud as her wooden sword clattered to the ground, and before she could grab it and jump to her feet, her sensei rapped her knuckles. The girl cried out and clutched her hand in pain. "Why'd you do that?"
Youmu snorted and placed her own sword on her shoulder. "Because this is a fight, and now you have no fingers." The gardener reached down and pulled Arya to her feet after the child gripped her cold left hand.
"But that isn't fair!" Arya exclaimed, "we're just training. You aren't trying to kill me."
"It is training, true, but at the same time if we aren't training to kill each other, we're just bashing sticks together."
It was about midday on the last day of the Hand's Tourney. Youmu's drunken state last night was enough of an embarrassment for her, and she resolved to spend the day teaching Arya instead of attending. That plan was going well so far, but the splitting headache as a result of her hangover was making that task harder than it should be.
She stepped away from her student, and the minute she did, Arya struck. The wooden sword lashed out in a powerful overhand chop that landed squarely between her shoulders. Or it would've, if Youmu's vision wasn't enhanced by the sight she gained from her phantom half. The gardener was still sluggish from her hangover though, and the attack connected with her right shoulder instead.
Arya let out a shout of victory, and Youmu a yelp of pain. The latter recovered a moment later and gave a smile through the pain while she rubbed the spot where the girl struck her.
"I did it, I finally hit you!"
"So you did. You listened to my advice."
" 'Always go for an opportunity if you see one'. " Arya echoed the words.
"Yes, and you did just that." The gardener then rubbed one of her temples. "Perhaps we should take a break for now. I'm still feeling ill after last night."
Arya nodded in understanding and bowed after pressing her hands together, and Youmu did the same. Arya spoke up once more. "Am I going to get a sword after you're done training me?" Her head tilted.
Youmu blinked. "You're going to get one before I'm done training you. Even after a few weeks you're proving to be quite a prodigy at this. Far more than I expected from you, little wolf."
"Really?"
"Yes, you took to this like a fish takes to water." Youmu smiled. "I'm very eager to see you progress and become a master swordsman."
"Father says I'm going to grow up to be a queen and a lady, and have tons of children."
"Your father wants what's best for you, and I'm sure he'll find someone that's best suited for you."
"But I don't want to marry and be a lady." Arya stomped her food.
"Life doesn't always allow us to choose what we do, Arya," Youmu paced around the Small Hall with her boots echoing with each small, light step she made. "Even I don't get to choose what I do in life."
"But you're choosing to teach me."
"Because for the first time in my life, I don't have a mistress telling me to 'prepare me a bath' or 'go fetch me a large fish for dinner'. It's been refreshing, even though my goal is to return to her."
"Well, I don't want anyone to tell me what to do." Arya crossed her arms and turned away with a huff.
Youmu smiled and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I've learned that you'll never truly be free of authority and control," the gardener looked around the Small Hall once more, "I think we're done for today."
Arya nodded and ran off. Youmu let out a small sigh after she was out of sight, and ran a hand through her bright white hair. Her head ached, and her body was sore. She considered a bath, but knew that she had to force herself to be productive in the library today.
Something nagged at the back of her mind as she sat down in a chair and began to read. What are you willing to do to get back to Yuyuko-sama? Youmu frowned as her thoughts mulled through her head.
She'd read a few more books about arcane and vile blood sacrifices that allowed an entire army to move across Essos thousands of years ago. But that required two hundred innocent people to be bled like cattle and then burned. Youmu...wasn't willing to do something so heinous. Odds are it wouldn't even work in this day and age as magic had slowly faded with the end of the dragons.
Her face scowled and she grumbled in irritation. Why do so many things require sacrifice here? Why is death so prominent? Why do so many people die?
She spent three hours reading various books with no leads with the exception of one possible ritual to summon forth one's relative from the dead. Youmu rubbed her thumb and index finger together after moving to a window to get some air and sun. That ritual wouldn't work to summon Yuyuko since as far as Youmu knew, she wasn't related to her mistress in any way. Her mother was dead, sure, but the odds of her being able to relay a message to Yuyuko were really slim, especially since she'd never met the woman before her death.
Youmu sighed and shook her head and moved away and closed the book she'd been reading and quietly placed it back and left the library.
Upon returning to her room, she saw Roukanken hadn't moved from the spot she'd left it for the last couple of weeks. The particles had gradually increased over that time, and when Youmu pulled the sword away from the open window, the blade was glowing a bright fiery orange.
She smirked to herself as the glowing slowly faded. Summer wasn't a seasonal essence she used often in danmaku battles, but it may prove useful later on. Each essence had a different magical effect on her and her weaponry when she utilized them. Spring enhanced her reflexes and made her faster. Summer allowed her magic to take on the property of fire as hot as a late Summer sun. Autumn slowed everything down except her, and Winter allowed her to freeze nearly anything her sword touched.
Summer may prove to be the most useful of the elements she harnessed while here if her dreams were anything to go off of.
The gardener sheathed her sword and ran her hand over the painted wooden tsuka. She didn't want to have to use it to end the life of someone that didn't deserve it while she was here. She can get home without causing needless bloodshed, right?
Night approached without warning, and so did the guard of Eddard Stark, a man called Harwin. "The hand requests your presence, m'lady."
"Does he? Well, let's not keep him waiting." Youmu followed behind the man silently before she was brought to the Tower of the Hand and then into Eddard's chambers. She bowed. "You asked for me?"
"I did, yes," Ned poured her a cup of summer wine. "How's your research coming along?"
"About as well as can be expected, but there's only so much I can do. I read of an army going from one side of Essos to the other in a night, but that came at the cost of hundreds of people being bled then burned." She took a sip, "but for now, it seems that I'm stuck here.
"A shame."
"It is," Youmu took another sip and shook her head. "And for you? How's your investigation coming along?"
"A complication. Jon Arryn's squire, who was just recently knighted, died yesterday in the tourney." Ned looked exhausted as he took a sip of his own wine.
Youmu's eyes briefly widened. "He didn't happen to be a knight with new armor and a blue cloak, did he?"
"He was. Why? Did you see him?"
"I watched him die. Ser Gregor's lance went right through his neck." Youmu's voice was quiet as she glanced downward at her crossed legs in the chair she sat down in.
Ned was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "Was that the second time you watched someone die?"
"Yes." A long sip, "Arya's friend was different because he was a boy. The knight was a grown man. Foolish and prideful, but still grown."
Ned nodded, and just as he was about to reply, the door knocked and Harwin called out from the otherside of the door. "A man's here to see you, my lord," he called. "He will not give his name."
"Send him in," Ned said, wondering.
A man entered the room wearing mud-caked boots and a heavy brown robe with a cowl over his features.
"Who are you?" Youmu asked.
The man turned to the half-phantom, then to Lord Stark. "A friend. We must speak alone, Lord Stark."
Ned narrowed his eyes before he turned to his guard. "Harwin, leave us," he commanded just as he saw Youmu making her way to the door as well, "Youmu, stay."
The stranger shifted in his spot. "My lord, it would be best if the half-phantom left as well."
"She's a friend and a trusted ally, my lord. She stays." He was adamant.
The hooded man sighed as he pulled back the hood to reveal himself.
Youmu's eyes widened. "Lord Varys?"
The man, now shown to be Varys, nodded at the girl. "Lord Stark," he sat down across from the gardener. "Might I trouble you for a drink?"
Ned filled a cup for Varys, and refilled the cups he and Youmu had already been drinking. "I never would've recognized you if you passed within three feet of me."
"That was my dearest hope," Varys spoke. "It would be quite unfortunate if others knew we spoke," he glanced over at Youmu, who fell silent. "The queen watches you closely. Both of you."
"So why did you feel the need to try and exclude me?"
"How did you get past my guards?" Ned was concerned as he had three other guards along with Harwin stationed outside and along the stairs.
"My, so many questions tonight," The Spider smiled. "The Red Keep has ways only known to ghosts and spiders, and I wasn't aware how much you told our little lady phantom." His smile was coy and sweet.
Ned spoke up once more before Varys could continue. "I've informed Youmu of my investigation, but has yet to take part in any of it."
Varys nodded at that and soon began informing the Hand of the King that people had tried to take the king's life. Youmu was horrified, especially when the "they" was revealed. The Lannisters. The queen being the most responsible most likely.
Eddard Stark was angry as the grip on his cup tightened until his knuckles were white. "You knew of this plot, and yet you did nothing."
"I command whispers, not warriors."
"You might have come to either of us earlier."
Varys smiled. "And what would you have done? Run off to Robert to warn him, most likely. I wonder how he would've responded to that."
Youmu frowned and furrowed her brow, "From what I know," she started. "He most likely would've cursed them all and tried to fight anyway."
Varys places his hands on the arm rests of the chair. "Indeed, and I will confess, Lord Eddard," he said. "I was curious to see what you would do, and I did not trust you at first."
"But why?" Eddard was shocked.
"The Red Keep shelters two sorts of people, Lord Eddard," he began. "Those who are loyal to the realm, and those who are loyal only to themselves."
Youmu seemed to shrink in her seat and she frowned. "I'm loyal to my mistress."
"Indeed you are, but you are also loyal to yourself in order to get back. I'm sure you'll also use any method you come across to do such a thing."
"That isn't true, Lord Varys. I won't cross any lines that shouldn't be crossed."
"And who sets the lines, little phantom? Not I, and certainly not the king."
Ned spoke up again with a heavy heart. "Robert must be told. If even a part is true, he must hear of it."
Varys looked amused. "And what proof shall we lay before him? My word against theirs? Pray, send for Ser Ilyn directly. It'll save us both the trouble." The Spider stood and began making his way to the door, "thank you for the wine, my lord," he dipped to Youmu respectfully. "My lady, I'm sure we'll talk again soon."
"Lord Varys," Ned spoke once more. "How did Jon Arryn die? Why was he killed?"
"I wondered when you would get around to that."
"Tell me."
"Asking questions," Varys said, slipping out the door.
"The whore is pregnant!" Robert exclaimed as he slammed his fist down on the table of the small council. Youmu jumped.
It was her first council meeting she attended after asking permission from Lord Stark, and it proved to be quite enlightening.
The king, Hand, and other councilors were debating on what to do about Daenerys Targaryen and her brother, Viserys. The two Targaryen children are the last surviving children of the Mad King Aerys, and ever since they escaped fourteen years ago, Robert's been trying to hunt them down and kill them for potentially being rivals to the throne.
Only Ned and Barristan argued in favor of not killing Daenerys and Viserys, while the other council members were for it. She could become a problem now that she was married to a Dothraki Kahl who had forty-thousand riders at his disposal. If they crossed the narrow sea, they would wreak havoc on the realm.
But Daenerys was only fourteen years old, and Dothraki never crossed the Narrow Sea for anything, let alone a foreign kingdom or throne.
Ned argued both of those points, and that practically nothing would come of it. Robert wouldn't have it though.
"Gods! You're as stubborn as an ox, Stark!" Robert looked around to the council, then settled on Youmu who'd been quietly watching like a fly on the wall, "you, girl, what of your opinion on what to do with the dragon bitch?"
Her eyes widened before she spoke up. "I-well," Youmu frowned, "arguably it's heinous to murder a child when she hasn't lifted a finger in aggression to the Realm."
She took a step forward and shrugged. "Her brother, on the other hand, expresses active malice towards you and your reign."
"You don't think she's a threat?" Robert growled.
"Not at the moment," she insisted. "And if she were to be brought back…" Youmu trailed off, finding the next words a bit hard to say, "then I could use her in a ceremony I've researched that would require a, well, blood sacrifice so that I may return home."
Everyone looked appropriately horrified, Ned Stark most of all. He spoke up. "Robert, I beg of you to rethink this! No child has done any wrong to warrant being used in something so evil!"
"We set out to war to put an end to the Targaryens!"
"Your Grace, I never knew you to fear Rhaegar," Ned's brow furrowed. "And yet here you are cowering from an unborn child."
Robert purpled. "No more, Ned," he warned, pointing. "Not another word. Have you forgotten who is king here?"
"No, Your Grace. Have you?"
Robert froze. "Get out." His voice was like ice.
Ned took off the cloak that signified his position as Hand of the King. "As you wish." He then bowed, turned, and left.
Youmu watched him thunder past her while Robert was shouting. "Go, run back to Winterfell then! And make certain that I never look at your face again," he chucked his flagon of wine at a nearby wall. "Or your head's going to be on a spike!"
The gardener glanced at the Former Hand leave, then at the small council before she turned and followed after him. Once they were in the solar located in the Tower of the Hand, he turned to her.
"Why would you even suggest something so awful?" He was bewildered, "I took you a woman of honor, Lady Youmu."
Youmu clasped her hands in front of her and frowned. "It was a suggestion after reading a book," she started. "Nothing more. I hardly know enough about this ritual to even attempt it."
"A horrible suggestion. One that I am grateful that Robert turned down."
He summoned Vayon Poole. "The king and I have had a quarrel," he began. "We shall begin returning to Winterfell."
The man looked shocked, but composed himself quickly. "As you command, my lord, but we will need at least a fortnight to finish preparations."
"We may not have a fortnight. We may not have a day. Robert said something about my head on a spike."
Ned took a breath and leaned against the railing of his solar while looking out over the city. "I will take a few guardsmen and my daughters and sail on ahead.
The rest of you can follow when you are ready. Inform Jory, but tell no one else, and do nothing until the girls and I have gone. The castle is full of eyes and ears, and I would rather have my plans not known."
"As you command, my lord."
When he left, Ned sat down at the window, brooding. Youmu quietly poured him a glass of wine and quietly handed it to him. He took it. "My thanks."
"You're welcome. I suppose it would be too much to ask that I return with your guards?"
"You are always welcome at Winterfell, my lady."
She smiled. "I'll try not to bring the blood rituals with me. It may take me longer since I'm waiting on a project to finish, but I will return to Winterfell."
Ned Laughed.
Another man entered the room after the better part of the morning. "Lord Baelish to see you, m'lord."
He frowned now. "Show him in, Tom."
Lord Baelish strolled into the solar with his hands at his sides and a mocking smile on his lips. He bowed.
"Ned greeted him coldly. "Might I ask the reason for this visit, Lord Baelish?"
"I shan't keep you long. "When do you mean to return to Winterfell, my lord?"
"As soon as I can. What concern is that of yours?"
"None," Littlefinger's eyes twinkled. "But if you're still here in the evening, I'd be pleased to take you to this brothel your man Jory has been searching for. I won't even tell your wife."
She glanced outside the window of the brothel with a scowl. It was evening, and the sun was still setting, but the rain that was now pouring and making the sky darker than it should be. She, Ned, and a host of the Stark's guardsmen visited the brothel that Littlefinger pointed them to. The Master of Coin accompanied them of course, and she was now seated next to the man.
"I can't believe I'm actually in one of these places…" She muttered under her breath, though Baelish seemed to pick up on her words.
"Do they not have whorehouses where you're from, Lady Konpaku?"
"Most likely, yes, but my profession doesn't take me near them."
"A gardener, aye?" His eyes moved over her cloak-covered frame and smiled.
"Yes, but I do whatever my mistress commands."
"And if he asked you to lie with a man and take payment from him, you would do it?"
"I don't engage in talks of hypotheticals, Lord Baelish. And my price would be more than you could ever give me." She sent a glare his way just as Ned Stark was coming back downstairs from the upper floor.
"Everyone has a price, M'lady."
Ned nodded to his company, Youmu, and Baelish, and they all soon left the brothel known as Chataya's and began trotting on their horses back to the Red Keep. The rain seemed to pick up enough for the gardener to not overhear the conversation going on between Ned and Petyr, though it sounded like they were discussing just how many bastards Robert had.
Knowing how much the king seemed to love his whores, there was a great many of them.
Suddenly, in the rain, she could make out several figures in front of her. Youmu tugged on her horse's reins and called back. "My lords!"
She could see at least ten men with chainmail over leather, gauntlets, and greaves. The golden lion of Lannister was on the crest of their steel helms. Youmu narrowed her eyes with a frown.
A man named Wyl called out. "Behind!" Ten more men blocked off their escape as he drew his sword and shouted loudly. "Make way or die!"
Youmu hopped off her horse and placed a hand on the hilt of Roukanken while the leader of the Lannister men spoke up. "The wolves are howling," she could see his face dripping with rain. "Such a small pack, though."
Jaime Lannister dismounted from his own horse and grinned in Youmu's direction as Littlefinger spoke up. "What is the meaning of this? This is the Hand of the King."
"He was the Hand of the King." The line parted before him. On a golden breastplate, the lion of Lannister roared its defiance. "Now, if truth be told, I'm not sure what he is."
"Lannister, this is madness," Littlefinger said. "Let us pass. We are expected back at the castle. What do you think you're doing?"
"He knows what he's doing," Ned said calmly.
Jaime kept his smile up as he responded. "Quite true. I'm looking for my brother. Perhaps you remember him from Winterfell? Shorter than Lady Ghost, golden hair, mismatched eyes, sharp tongue."
"I remember him well," Ned replied.
"My lord father is most displeased about his disappearance." Jaime took a step forward, hand on the hilt of his sword, "You wouldn't know who'd wish my brother ill, do you?"
"Your brother has been taken at my command, to answer for his crimes," Ned Stark said.
Youmu stopped and slowly turned her head to face the man. "...Why would you do that." She did not ask it as a question.
"He is under suspicion of killing my son, Bran. The one who fell from the tower." Ned seemed worried that the half-phantom may turn on him and join the twenty men who surrounded his small party.
Jaime drew his sword, the golden blade dripping water steadily. "Draw your sword, Lord Eddard. I'll gut you like I did Aerys if I must, but I'd prefer if you had a sword in you ha-" WHACK.
Youmu's phantom half darted out from behind her and smacked itself against the kingslayer square in the chest. He let out a gasp of air and fell backward into the mud. She turned to Ned and his party. "Run! Get back to the Red Keep. I'll join you when I return."
"Lady Youmu…" Ned trailed off as the men began advancing.
"Go." The grip on Roukanken tightened.
Ned turned to Jory. "Make sure no harm comes to her." And with that, Ned and Littlefinger galloped past the men in front of them and made their way to the Red Keep.
Youmu was now left alone with Jory, Wyl, and Heward. Thunder crackled in the distance.
Jaime sprawled on the ground for a second longer before he got up, a noticeable dent in the middle of his breastplate. "That was quite dishonorable of you, my lady." He laughed and picked up his weapon. The kingslayer turned to his captain of the guard. "Tregar," he started, "bring me the head of that ghost girl."
The other man looked apprehensive as Youmu was standing perfectly still, but he seemed determined. "As you say, m'lord."
"Would you be willing to kill anyone who threatened you?" Jaime's voice echoed in her head after several months of thinking.
Yes. I do. Youmu's blade drew in a flash of light once Cregan was within reach of her. Roukanken was forged by Youkai, and can cut through anything and was near unbreakable as a result.
Cregan's chainmail didn't stand a chance. Neither did his leather, and neither did his body. He was sliced from his right hip all the way up to his left shoulder. The mail was cut cleanly like a hot knife through butter, as was his leather and body. She cut him down to the bone, and he stood there for a minute, paralyzed by the sudden influx of pain, then fell to his knees and backwards.
The man was dead before he hit the mud. Jaime looked stunned, Youmu looked angry, and the men around him were horrified.
Before the others could leap into action, the half-phantom part of Youmu moved first. It slammed itself into the head of the man closest to Youmu which created a sickening crunch, and the gardener herself spun her blade as she advanced towards Jaime Lannister, cutting down a second man by drawing her sword across his belly.
"You asked me once if I had what it took to kill someone," Youmu placed a hand on the hilt of her wakizashi, Hakurouken. "And I must say, I do." She didn't draw just yet, as she waited to see what the remaining six men plus Jaime, did.
It took a moment for the kingslayer to regain his composure before he snorted. "I'm glad, my lady. Killing you should not be such an easy task." He turned to his men and waved them off with a saunter, "leave us. This one is mine."
They pulled back as Jaime tossed his sword back and forth between his left and right hand. Youmu glanced back at the men Ned left her, and frowned when she saw they were dead along with their mounts. Several Lannister soldiers lay dead as well, at least four more. That left twelve men and Jaime to face, but if the kingslayer was set on fighting Youmu himself, that should even her odds.
"Finally going to do your dirty work yourself huh?"
"Of course, my lady," he bowed with a mocking tone in his voice. "You wanted a duel, no? You finally have it."
"And here I took you for a man with honor." The rain thundered and poured harder. She was soaked to the bone.
"But I am! If I wasn't, you would be swarmed by my soldiers as well as myself with no hope of survival." Jaime's smile faltered for the briefest of moments, "I just wish you weren't on the losing side."
Youmu let out a dry laugh as she took a few steps back before her knees bent at a ninety degree angle and her grip on Roukanken transitioned into a ko gasumi position. "I'm not on anyone's side. Lord Stark has just given me more of a reason to defend him than your family has."
"And does my little brother deserve to be spirited away for a crime he didn't commit?" Jaime advanced, his green eyes following her movements as his sword was pointed towards her.
She faltered and frowned. "I'm sure the truth will come out, Ser."
"How hopelessly optimistic."
"Optimism from experience. I'm sure your brother is innocent."
"Are you now? Did you push the Stark boy out a window? Or apparently hire someone to cut his throat?"
Youmu's eyes widened, then narrowed. "...How do you know if he was pushed out a window or not?"
Jaime was silent for a minute as he seemed to realize his mistake, but instead of responding or defending himself, he lashed out to attack. A powerful overhead slash was made. Youmu moved to block, but it was a feint. The kingslayer pulled his blade back quickly and sent a thrust towards the gardener's belly.
She spun to the side and swung her sword upward once more into Jaime's armor. Swords don't normally do very well against plate armor, but Youmu's sword wasn't normal by any means. The tip of her blade sliced through the side of Jaime's protection, and seemed to nick him as well due to the sudden reaction of pain that flashed over his face.
Youmu wasn't done yet, and pulled her sword all the way back and shoved it forward, intending to skewer Jaime through the ribs, but the man reacted quickly. He turned and swatted her sword away with his own. Youmu stepped back one step and narrowly blocked a thrust, which caused sparks to fly as their blades finally collided.
She grimaced. "Your sword is still intact."
"Not quite Valyrian steel, but still much stronger than your average weapon." He grinned as he used his height and reach to his advantage and pressed forward, which forced Youmu against the wall of a nearby building. She grunted.
"I'm sure it won't be a problem for too long." One hand moved from the hilt of Roukanken and down to Hakurouken. Jaime tried to react, but he was too slow, and suddenly found a short sword buried in his thigh.
He cried out and backed away, only for Youmu to capitalize and press the advantage. She sliced right across his chest, just enough to go clean through his armor, but not actually physically wound him. Another attack from her phantom half sent Jaime flat on his back in the mud again.
He was still howling and hissing in pain as the gardener calmly walked up and ripped the wakizashi from his thigh, earning another yelp of pain. She placed a foot on the knight's chest and frowned. "I'm a gardener, Ser Jaime."
She pointed to the men she cut down earlier as their blood ran freely into the mud-filled streets. The rain pitter-pattered on the golden armor of the kingslayer. "I have found that a lot of things in life are like hedges, and occasionally those things need trimming."
Jaime growled angrily and swung his golden blade at the woman who had a foot on him. Youmu frowned and brought Roukanken up, and as their blades clashed, she cut clean through his weapon in another shower of sparks.
"Egos are like hedges, kingslayer. Sometimes they need to be trimmed."
A/N: Gawsh this one was 11K words. I honestly could not find a solid stopping point, but I think we're good here. I was debating whether or not to continue the end fight after Youmu's zinger, but I felt as if it wouldn't hit as hard as it does for Jaime if she immediately got wailed on by the remaining Lannister thugs. This phrase is going to come back to bite her eventually, I promise! I'll also say that I'm trying my best to not just go line-for-line when it comes to scenes from the novels, but I do apologize if it's word-for-word.
