THE ROYAL GUARD

LYARRA

I faintly felt the sheets of my body roll down to my hips. Honestly, I wanted to open my eyelids and find the intruder who was invading my space. That was the right thing to do, but my limbs were weak to even lift it. It felt like someone had beat me bloody the previous day and I was left to die. Vague memories of a golden knight swinging his golden sword in the air fell through my vision. I knew this was a dream as I couldn't smell the stench of hay around the stables, but the faint memory washed over me.

We were dancing, but I was merely running away. Like lion chasing a deer, with every growing second he became the predator chasing me, cornering me, closing in on me. And I lost the duel in a split second. Blood coursing through my veins, I was baring my chest when he tried to plunge his steel into my heart. My pride and ego surged in anger of losing against him, especially after trying to vent out anger on someone else. I had no memories of why I was angry, now. But I hadn't cowered, shivered, or shuttered when his pointed blade pressed into my chest. I was proud of dying, like a warrior in Sansa's songs, until I felt him give a whisper of a smile. The dark night was concealing his beautiful, vicious smile. But I felt it in air, in snow, and in me. The ripples of his smile passed through the golden blade into my heart.

I arched my back to feel it more. He was my opponent, rival, and enemy. He was the predator. A prey would know when it was getting hunted, and his shining green orbs threatened me to know the same. At the same time it invited me, like the alluring flowers in the wild forest that would attract its food, he was attracting me. And I volunteered to feel his smile that drew me close.

"Let the Others take you! Stupid, Lya. Who did this to you?"

Alys… The fading dream left as it had never occurred and I jumped out of the bed, still feeling groggy. Thirsty for water, I gulped down from the mug, staring at teary-eyed Alys, who supposedly had lifted off my sheets and found my small cloth drenched in dried blood. It wasn't this painful the previous day. Most likely, that I was high on alcohol to feel anything. Now, though, my chest started burning ferociously. The amount of blood that had piled on the linen cloths would have shocked anyone. Gods, the man had marked himself on my chest. This would be a scar to tell a tale to any man I would marry. "Jaime Lannister!" I spat out, telling his name like a curse.

Alys blinked, wiping her tears, and I knew she would dig for a story. Well, if it was a story of victory, I would have flaunted, already. But I was a sore loser. Oddly, she surprised me when she asked to get cleaned first. To avoid getting caught by anyone important, especially the guests, I worked my way to the maids' common bath chamber. No one would linger there around mid-noon.

After a long bath, I returned and had shed the layers of cloth. Wrapping a towel around my torso, I greedily eyed the fruit bowl Alys had placed on my desk. "Fill your stomach. This is all I could manage to steal from my chamber without getting caught." Alys chided, and I literally shoved it down to my stomach. The hunger had never ceased in me. Not just for food, but for life itself. Besides, I had never missed breakfast before. All those years of discipline were thrown out in a day's agony. "The King was missing you during both breakfast and lunch. He has been enquiring about you." Alys gave a sly smile.

The problem with Alys was, I can't determine when she would lie and when she wouldn't. Most of the time she mixed lies with truth that I stopped giving value to anything that came from her mouth. But then, all the high-born women were trained that way. They never said blunt truth. A lace of poison always wrapped to jab the opponent with a curtsey. It was a beautiful game that was out of my arena to play. Just like now…

Ignoring her, I tied my towel around my waist and took a wine pouch to dribble it in the wound. Heated wine would serve best to keep off the infection than this cold one. Well, the man was rich enough to coat a sword with gold; I didn't think there would be any infection. When I applied the salve made of honey, spider-web, and clay, looking at the reflection-glass, Alys with no shame stared at my breasts. The chill air had made the red nipples turn hard as pebbles that I felt shameful and covered them, giving a stern glower at her. She simply laughed it off like a moron.

"You have perfect round tits, you know." She said dreamily and turned to look at herself in the reflection-glass.

"What a wonderful discovery!" I said with a mocking smile. If there was anyone with whom I can speak about tits and cocks without getting irritated, then it was with Alys. "Your tits are not sagging to ground for your whine."

"I know, but not well-rounded like yours." She lamented. "So, you had a sword fight with Jaime Lannister?" Sliding down leather tunic around my shoulder, I gave an awkward glance at her. She wasn't teasing now. It was more like a concern. That was the reason I liked her. She cared for me, for whatever odd reasons.

"It was unplanned. He walked in on my territory, raising his sword to fight against me." Liar! It was me who provoked. But I was in anger and I wanted to vent off. I couldn't keep it inside. That was never me.

"Good lie, Lya. But remember, you raised a sword against a Lannister. The Queen's own twin brother. It will serve you no good with all the troubles the King is going to place on your platter. What does the term go about Lannister and debts?"

I said nothing. In retrospect, that was a bad decision. Not just because I fought with him, but because he was deadly with a sword in hand. I had trained with more than a hundred men here, but I had never seen someone knocking me out in mere minutes. He would have made lamb in a butcher shop look like a child's work, with the way he was slicing through me. It was a miracle that I had survived. "They will leave in a fortnight. I will just be a passing cloud." I said in a sad tone, braiding my hair. Although I tried to put up a cheerful face, I failed, I suppose. I had lost my winning face. Now, I started eating mud, realizing my father would leave me in Winterfell. Arya and Bran would also be gone. Sansa would become Queen one day. It felt like I was the left-over. Well, I was kind of left-over, a rejected, damaged goods. "What will you do after leaving to Karhold?" I switched the subject. There was never a day I bared open my feelings to anyone. I liked hiding my sorrows till it would disappear.

"Nothing important. My lord father has not considered me worthy enough to allocate any duties. Mostly I ride with Torr. Edd has recently taken upon himself to take me to all the holdfasts he visits. It is either a too-busy day or nothing to wake up to, other than to listen to my lady mother's rantings."

High-borns! How could I not loathe when someone kept flaunting off, without even knowing they were flaunting? "I would give anything to hear my mother's ranting," I said with no hard feelings. It was what it was. But Alys's face soured, and she hugged me like I needed to be held and comforted. "Alys, you are high on a woman's hormone, today." I chuckled. "Tending me, feeding me, ogling at me, and now, comforting? I say, you better ask your lord father to find a boy, sooner. A baby will keep you on your toe."

"When has he ever stopped searching…" She scowled and walked away.

"He allowed you to come here and find a southron?"

"He always aims for the North. It is your brother he wants me to persuade but I want a southron for myself. Like our King. Fat and laughing, with no care for the world." She answered with no shame. "Even better is the lion of Lannister." Alys's smile widened ear to ear.

"He is in the Kingsguard."

Alys scoffed. "You don't gossip very well, Lya. It is assumed that his father, Lord Tywin, wants only him as his heir and not the imp. So, one day or the other, he will be asked to shed the white armor and bestow a red cloak. Now, don't mock me before I finish my sermon. I know it is ridiculous but, hey, should we not dream of becoming Lady Lannister and having access to both the gold mines and a golden cock?"

Rings of laughter echoed my room. I shared it with Alys. Although, there were certain things that a bastard should restrain from even dreaming. A marriage with a high-born lord would come in top on the list. Alys herself was aware of it. Trying to mask that hurt in my voice, I pulled on the knee-length boots, worrying about my life. "Do you want to join me for a ride? It will be quieter than in the castle or Wintertown."

Before Alys could answer, Bran and Arya, barged into the chamber, their bickering so loud for anyone to miss. It was about swords, lances, and horses. It felt like seeing myself and Robb, thousands of years ago. Arya had taken the Stark looks and Bran his mother's, just like me and Robb. I felt better, and a smile crept along my lips. No matter what, they were my siblings, and I loved them. Bran saw something behind me, and his mouth opened wide in shock. "Is that real, true blood?"

There was never a day, I had forgotten to keep my sword clean and sharp. Well, this day was the first of so many things. "Who did you fight?" Arya asked. "He is most likely dead. It is so much of blood. Father said I can get a sword too if I can fight like you" Arya gleamed.

"You are too young to own a sword," I stated. I loved her enough to know that she wasn't trained for real steel, and she was thin and scrawny than I ever was. "And you have to keep training to own one."

"We will have so much time in King's Landing. You can train me and I can kick Bran's ass like you kick Robb's," Arya answered cheekily, making all laugh, except Bran.

"I won't be coming to King's Landing, though," I answered, still my throat raw for admitting it.

"Why not?" Arya asked worriedly. I didn't want to bring my bastard misery here and upset her. "Mother said you will join us too. Father and Mother were fighting, but Mother assured, you will come with us. Isn't it Bran?"

Mother? Lady Stark? I didn't like the underlying meaning of it. Bran looked between all the three but he didn't let out a word. He was clever and matured for his age. And it struck me hard in my chest, where the old festered wound got re-opened. Lady Stark wanted me gone. I said to myself that I knew this was coming, that I would be thrown out, but pain crept in, all the same. Giving a hard smile at Arya, I picked my sword and sheathed on my leather sword belt to climb mountains and leave this damn place. Just as I opened the door to run away, three southern men stood before my door. "The King has summoned you to the Great Hall, my lady. Please come with us."

JAIME

Robert rubbed his ass more in the Great Hall of Winterfell than he ever rubbed on the iron throne of King's Landing, where he was meant to rule. After waking up with terrible nightmares, I wasn't interested in guarding him. The dreams weren't kind. All bitter past of the day that I had lost my honor as a knight and forsake a bloody oath went on and on, in a loop. Tyrion, with his morbid sense of humor, had poured glasses of water on my face to wake me up. Of course, he had run to the door before I got on to my feet, knowing how I might have made a small twist of his neck and made a bloody meal out of him. I'd roared, throwing away platters of food in wroth. I loved Tyrion, but his sense of humor was wearing off of me.

Nonetheless, Tyrion had made arrangements to tend to my bruises, which I would have worn it in pride, rather than covering it up. Cersei wouldn't like any prized scars on my body. I never understood her obsession with often wanting me to look unblemished and perfect. It was ridiculous to expect that of a warrior, especially with a man like me, who'd wanted to face death with a sword in hand. A man's bruises said more about his prowess than to look pretty and perfect.

The Steward of Winterfell was ushering the maids to tend the King, who was likely to put a child in their belly, which obviously went unaware of those poor maids. I walked to the dais and exchanged Ser Meryn Trant's place. The air around King Robert was stiff, the usual boisterous laugh from him getting missed, and Ned Stark was sitting across Robert, with a frowned face indicating a disturbance in the air.

"This is absolutely unnecessary." Ned Stark's fist flexed. "She cannot be any happier than being here."

"So have you said…" Robert drawled. "For the hundredth time. But I will ask your daughter, myself. If she wills to be here, then I won't force your hand."

My spine stiffened. I wished I hadn't heard their conversation. I wished Ned Stark was stubborn enough as I had known him. I wished for so many things. Well, I had often wished I needn't see that judgemental long Stark face, again. When had my wishes ever been granted?

"Robert!" Ned Stark gave a long sigh. The mask of frustration withered fast and a tiresome gloom set over his long face. "She is a bastard. A royal court is no good place for her status."

"Argh…" Robert roared, gulping down a horn of ale. "This is what you have been worrying about? Horseshit, Ned!" The King bellowed out a quick short laugh. "Bring me the quill and parchment, I will legitimize her this same day. Who will oppose my decision? Huh… Don't tempt me to lift my hammer. Do you think I lost the warrior from my past?"

For a certainty, I knew, this fat Robert still had the prowess in him to lift that cursed hammer and shove down anyone's chest. For all the hatred and resentment I held for him, Robert was a true warrior. He was a hardened battle commander that the realm had seen. Still, even Robert's glory ass war hammer was no match for my golden sword and my golden hand. I am proud of that, and not even Ned Stark had the right to look down upon me for my unmatched strength.

Which brought me back to the stupid bastard girl!

Who in their right sense would dare to lift their sword against me? Such a stupid girl!

Lady Snow wouldn't last a day in King's Landing with her stupid brain in work. My sister would cook a nice meal out of her, when the news of Robert's plans on legitimizing the bastard, just to bring her to the royal court, would reach Cersei. Not that I cared for what happened to Ned Stark's bastard.

"Are you going to bring the quill and parchments?" Robert asked. Ned Stark vehemently shook his head, refusing. "Fine! Fine! Listen, she is a beautiful girl, just like your sister Lyanna was. All I want is for her to see the world where the sun rises in glory and flower blooms to the fullest. Let her enjoy the merriment for once. You have locked her up in this dry land, Ned. What have you got for her here that you reject my suggestion? Why do you defy your King's orders? I promise you, if she is interested, she could marry my son, Edric Storm. It is your choice, of course."

Of course! Would any man be able to deject the King's offer of a marriage with his son? A bastard girl couldn't hope to grow higher on the ladder. There was no way the northern lord would think anything vile brewing in the King's head after the mention of a marriage proposal between their children. Perhaps Robert simply wanted to make the girl marry his bastard son. It was not a bad match. A bastard for another. But, before any of that could happen, Cersei would strangle the girl's pale throat and bury her in a coffin next to Lyanna Stark, so Robert could grieve for them both.

"My daughter will not be happy to leave here." Ned Stark spelled it like a chanting prayer.

But as all dead prayers that would go unheard by the Gods, the answer for the problem came, when Lyarra Snow entered the Great Hall, with two of the guards, by her side. Her hands were stiff, resting by her side, and I was able to sense she was fretting with the fear of the unknown when she started flexing her fingers.

I had to widen my eyes to make sure this was the same girl I fought with the day before. She was wearing a dress then. Now, in breeches and tunic, she was… different. Her leather boots had crawled up to her knees, and I didn't miss checking out her long slender legs when I scanned every inch without missing the detail. Of course, it was only to know her fleshes to thrust my sword, just in case we would meet steel to steel.

Some monster inside me warned that we would face sooner than later. The girl was born for bringing trouble. A big trouble. And she had already set things in motion. What would Cersei ask me to do?

The girl should know better and stay away from power and royalty. She shouldn't be coming anywhere in the vicinity of Kings and Queens if she had any knowledge of surviving and knowing her place.

Besides, a girl like herself should be aware of what monstrous thoughts would arouse in a man's mind, by wearing such frilly clothes amongst them. She was deliberately screaming for attention. The King's attention! My fingers flexed at the prospect of it. Of course, I had no care that Robert started skimming her lithe body, the same way my eyes had roamed. Who was the girl for me to be concerned about?

"Beautiful!" Robert whispered and wagged his thick gloved fingers, asking her to come forward. "This was exactly how I found your sister, the last time I saw her." The King said with a gloom of sorrow and a crinkle of happiness.

"She is my daughter, Robert. This is the thousandth-"

"Aye, Aye!" Robert roared out a thunder of laughter. "Now, come here, Lya! Me and your father have an unresolved issue. We need your help to solve it."

Lyarra switched locking her gaze between both the men, in fear, trepidation, and anxiety. Her eyes were as wide as a preyed doe which understood it was being hunted by huge predators from all directions. I hadn't expected her to project her gaze towards me. But, when those punishing purple gaze locked to mine, my body stilled in a frozen stupor. My golden armor rattled when I was dragged back to the past of being a boy of five and ten, standing in the courtyard, parlaying with a certain Prince to take me to the battle-field. Her cursory accusing glance fell forward to King Robert, next second, but I couldn't find grit in myself to divert my attention from reading her perfect Valyrian features.

It was insanity, pure mind-trick, sick past-dwelling madness. Whatever it was, I kept reading her face where the sunbeams were giving a shiny glow to her pale skin. I spaced out from the presence. I could only think about all the oaths that I had broken and all the promises I had failed to fulfill.

Lyarra appeared scared of being punished by the King for raising a steel against the Kingsguard, but when the King made no mention of it, she offered a beaming, polite smile of gratitude in my direction. My skin burned at the prospect that she could feel gratitude. No… She shouldn't! I would be her tormentor. Possibly her murderer, if Cersei would ask of me.

"The men here say a lot about your interest in riding. Is it true that you can trot a horse without skidding?" Robert asked with a hint of a smile.

"Without skidding?" Lyarra was appalled. "You ornate me with an insult, your grace. No man in the North can best me if I mount on my Hero."

Robert roared out a thunder of laugh, while she still remained perplexed. He was amused, surely. Even I was, to an extent, considering how lean she was. It was hard to take a girl's words with all seriousness when she looked pale and lovely, adorned by too much charm with her big purple doe eyes. But I had seen her swinging a sword, and I knew better.

Her cheeks became red in embarrassment. She was just like me when I had been young and stupid. I would easily get triggered if someone baited me with a slur of being a coward. I don't think that has changed in me, even now. Gritting her teeth, she answered. "If his grace has doubts on my ability, we should conduct a race and find who wins." Robert bellowed another round of laughter and even a few of the guards around joined the King.

"Wouldn't that be a lovely game?" Robert's eyes teared up. "I am not one of your north man, Lya. I am a hard born southerner, from Storm's End. It will be a shame to see you cry after you lose."

"That crying part of the game belongs only to the losers, your grace. And if I may suggest, my Hero is very unlikely to break his legs, carrying my weight, unlike yours! You have my word that I will hide your tears from the world. I am your leal, loyal servant for that matter." She gave her typical snarky remark with a bowed curtsey in the end. For a moment, the men around didn't grasp the true weight of her words, except Ned and Robert himself. I had to bite my lips, just so I wouldn't bark out the struggling happiness. It had been a long time since I heard someone calling out Robert's fatness right to his face.

"Lyarra!" Ned glowered. "Where are your manners? Is this how-"

Robert broke the conversation when he threw his head back on the ironwood chair which was decorated with howling wolves on its armrest and gave a gravelly laugh that had no sound. Even his own men started rejoicing. Except Ned Stark, everyone else was laughing aloud, and Robert was spluttering incohesive words instructing his friend to stop condemning Lyarra. When all the laughs died, my own ring of reality sucked in. She shouldn't come to King's Landing. She would be eaten alive and I would be the first one to pluck her heart out.

"That would sure likely to happen, Lya," Robert said with a fondness that I hadn't seen in him for years. "Why don't you accompany your father to King's Landing? We can see whose ass will be the first to land." Lyarra instantly directed her chin towards her father. "Don't worry about what your father would tell. He has no say in it. Everything you desire is there in King's Landing. Knights and bards, flowers and peaches, gowns, and dolls. I will provide everything you need. I have a son, Edric Storm, in Storm's End. If you are interested-"

The King went on and on, with his grandiose arrangements that would be waiting for her. Instead of feeling giddy and excited, she appeared shocked. It was more likely that no one had ever wooed her or courted her like how a lady was supposed to be courted. I believed no one would have even bothered to offer her a flower. I would have done that, rather than promising golds and gems, if I had a chance in courting her. Why would I think of courting a bastard girl?

When the King fell silent, expecting Lyarra to answer, I had no urge considering how I easily predicted her simple nature. The northern girl wouldn't seem to be the type to fall for false promises of silver and gold. And Robert had no idea how to impress a woman of her type. Even Ned Stark appeared calm and composed, realizing none of those prizes would mean anything to his daughter.

"Should I pack my belongings today or will we stay longer here in Winterfell?" Lyarra shocked me with that response.

"Lya! You certainly don't mean to come-" Ned interrupted. We both were holding hope into a bastard girl's honor. Didn't all the Starks supposed to be honorable? But Lyarra is not a Stark, my mind interceded.

"Ned Stark!" Robert slammed his fist on the table, his fury overtaking the lasting taste of happiness. "Don't try to influence her into your cold burrow. I am counting on your words that you will not interfere if she is ready to come." Ned was beyond petrified and he left the Great Hall carrying his own agony. In the end, the King got what he always wanted. It seemed even I was not greatly inspired about a woman who would offer herself, like a cheap whore on a platter, to the King, when the chance presented. I expected more fight from the feisty bastard girl, who kept poking me at places where even redeemed knights couldn't come close to. What a disappointment!

Robert held the bastard girl for more time, making an attempt to converse with her. But Lyarra didn't get enthusiastically involved in any of those conversations after her father had left. She excused herself, and made her way towards the stables, with perfect strides of her long legs and Robert couldn't find in himself to steer his gaze away from her behind and project it to the guests who were willing to have a word with him.

"Ser Jaime!" Robert called. When I moved, trying to not hide my disgust, he made the crow of men surrounding him to part away. Speaking in a low voice that could only be audible to me, he said, "Ned, my northern fool of a friend, isn't taking any care for her safety. She said she would ride to a mountain on her own. What if she falls prey for a danger?" He asked, genuinely in concern. "There should be someone to protect her." Oh, No! Not in the seven hells, Robert would ask me of that. I am the danger. "I lost one Lya because Ned's foolish brother didn't offer her enough safety. I won't lose this Lya too." Robert's eyes moistened, his fat fist was bursting between his palms, and his chin shivered reliving his past. "My command for you is to guard her and protect her, Ser Jaime, wherever she leaves, with your life." He declared with a loud and clear voice.

I twisted my blazing steer on him, immediately ready to disobey. The one oath that I took, long before, and broke had caused me enough grief that, I didn't want to take another. Let alone run after a woman's skirt. Cersei would claw me before any of that could happen. Besides, if Cersei would ask me to cut Lyarra's head, I would still do it before I finish blinking my lids. My family came before any unworthy honors. Where would that lead me to?

"I am sure there are others-"

"Nah… I don't trust them with her." For seven's sake, why would he trust me out of the blue? He had insulted me with a crowning name of Kingslayer and laughed out of my misery. "All those mongrels eyes are not where they should be. I trust you haven't visited even a single whore in the capital."

Well, that was because I visit your wife's bed when you whore your way with the others.

"It will do good that she has you by her side. Now, this is under no negotiation, Kingslayer! You are bound to obey my orders. Have you forgotten it again?"

"Of course not," I said, grinding my teeth. It was insulting. The girl had sold herself, disobeying her own father's wishes. And now, I had to protect her because Robert's cock was itching to be inside her. "I will take leave, now, with your permission, then." Robert made a wave of his hand, not even listening to my response. And I wasted no time in rushing out to pour out my anger through sword and steel.

The precious time to spend with Cersei or Tyrion was spent aimlessly searching for a bastard girl, high up on a slope, with a tedious path that could have made my mount slip and break its neck. I utterly despised this land. With too much emptiness, the green grasses were covered with tiny mountains of snow, here and there, and the loud howls of wolves would alert any human to run back to the warmth of a hearth. It had been almost an hour since I began my search, not knowing where exactly the bastard girl would have wandered about.

Not that I cared for her safety. Determined in giving a clout to the back of her head, I had taken the horse out of the stable, only to learn that the girl's whereabouts were a mystery to even the guards in the castle.

The Stark heir, Robb Stark, had been the only other person to accompany her. A conversation with him had gone downhill, as my anger got the best of me.

"Why do you have to know my sister's whereabouts?" Robb Stark had asked, accusing me as though I had been meaning to rape her.

"King's orders, wolf boy!" I had controlled my tongue. "Now, tell me soon, where I can find her, else I will have to take a hundred guards and search for her in the woods." That part had been a lie. I had planned on bunking on finding the girl and instead seek Cersei.

"Why would the King want her?"

"Perhaps, he wants to fuck her. Why don't you ask the King the reasons?" I had spat viciously, desperate of ending the conversation. When the boy's face had gone red in anger, I shoved some more cruelty that was natural of me. "Don't get riled up, boy! Your sister is no maiden reborn. She already sold herself for a fine rate, to be in the King's bed. Sometimes, even a Kingsguard needs to give up honor to protect King's mistress. I am merely asking her location to protect her."

Robb Stark had cursed me, in his own northern dialect, but the boy was beyond hurt. He had appeared wounded and battered by my simple confession. Only, after the boy had left, instructing me with the direction, the impact of my words had drawn on me. Bastard or not, that girl was his sister. If anyone had insulted my sister with those crass comments, I would have choked that person with my curling fist.

My anger slowly withered when I found the setting sun upon the cliff where the bastard girl was sitting with her knees pulled up, and a white fluffy dire wolf curled up to her legs.

Boots clamoring on the crunchy crusts of snow, I dared to go near her, scanning the grounds. Her glistening dark brown hair shimmered when the red beams of light reflected on the side of her glowing face. She appeared terribly sad, which did not suit her sassy attitude or her cunning desire to climb up the ladder in social status by treachery.

"Have you come to give your apologies to me?" Lya asked, a sad smile slipping the corner of her mouth. "Or surrender your golden armor for losing to me in the fight?" She rose and walked to my direction while fiddling with her long braid.

The leather tunic was hugging around her slender physique, highlighting her growing young womanly shape. There was something missing that I had found the day before, during the fight. When her dark long braid fell below her waist from the front, I remembered the sweat gleaming on her face as the hair strands had struck to her smooth flesh. That was it… She was missing that glow of fight. No, I was missing the sweat on her face, her puffed up red-cheeks, and her chest panting for breath. That was a sight to any sore eyes. Cersei often looked splendid after our wrestling in bed. I think I admired that afterglow on women. My eyes naturally fell to the bloody blade and my jaw ticked.

"For a bastard girl who was about to face death at my hand, you are too bold to carry that sword. By all laws, I should be the one owning your armor, well, at least a blade because you didn't own an armor yesterday."

"Why, Ser Jaime? For a bastard girl, isn't it a splendid trophy to boast about in cups, of how I managed to knick the infamous Kingslayer in right royal places?" She said haughtily, but her eyes were telling a sad story of another tale. And I couldn't stop myself from knowing what it could be. "I am sure if you remove your golden armor, I can prove my friends, where exactly I punctured you. For days to come, they will sing my glory."

I snickered at the thought of it. She was good at hiding her emotions and better in rousing my temper and diverting my attention. Her words indeed ticked me at right royal places. I had forgotten half the things I had been meaning to ask her. Mostly, why she would be upset if she was readily offering herself to the King. She was old enough to know the hidden plan of the King.

"There are so many glorious songs that will be sung for you, bastard. But I am not sure if you will be alive to hear it." I warned again, trying to frighten her.

Lyarra gave a long sigh. "I am always ready for it. Death has never scared me." Her answer juggled my senses. For a thin moment, I had forgotten that the girl was trained by the master-at-arms. It was a proud feeling for any warrior to die with a sword in hand. At least, I promised myself that I would give honor to her that one wish when the day would come. "Why have you come here? Are the others going to follow you?"

"Others?" I drawled, rubbing my palms, frightening away the cold. "I have the King's orders to protect you." Her parted mouth made me reconsider the conclusion. She hadn't taken Robert's observation to be anything serious. Instantly, in an attempt to hide away her feelings on the matter, she diverted her gaze to the dire wolf pup, which was licking her leg.

I was astounded by my own behavior when I took a note of the surrounding. In my whole life, I had never been with a young girl, all alone, in some stranded place. Even Cersei and I hadn't got any privacy to celebrate our love. In fact, we had not spared any time to make love with patience. The attempts had been mostly fast, frenzy, in the cover, wary of intruders, wary of being caught. There was a delectable pump of blood to the heart while seeking for that forbidden love. But for the first time, I wondered about bringing Cersei here, in the quietness of chilled air with no noise, and more peace. All the more, I felt the need to be going back to my sister's arms. The prospect of standing there with the bastard girl made me grow angrier with every passing minute.

"Listen to me, bastard!" I snapped. "Why don't you save my energy by not running about anywhere you wish? I have got more duties other than to trail behind your skirt."

"I didn't ask you to trail after me. Take it to the King, if you need salvation from your duties, Kingslayer!" Lyarra ended up giving the damned clout a thousand times harder with her words. I hated her guts, but I couldn't hate it enough to kill her in that instant. "Besides, I am giving you a free ride to enjoy the beautiful place in the North. Even many northerners aren't well aware of this place."

I snorted. This place had a serenity to it, but without the woman I love, nothing mattered. "You call this cold, dry land as beautiful!? I am sure you will fall headfirst if you manage to reach King's Landing in a single piece."

"Nothing can match with Winterfell. I wonder if I could find a place as calm and peaceful as these lands anywhere in the world." She sighed with longingness lacing her eager tone.

"No place is peaceful, bastard! We men are created to destroy the peace."

Her pretty mouth frowned with a scowl. "And the same men are capable of bringing peace, like my father. You need a little positivity in your life."

"And you need to hear a little story of my father or that of the Mad King or of…" I lingered long to spill out the ugliness of the world. The truth of how cruel, men could turn the situations as it suited them. Or how Robert would take what he desired from her. Or that how none of her heroic adventures would make her better once she came out of her pretty little den. No matter what, my bleeding conscience begged me to tell her once to not leave her home.

But I couldn't let the words out.

It would make me look like a whimpering, weak fool. It wasn't my place to take her hand and explain the truth of life. Not that she was going to listen to me. If she truly made her bed to lay with Robert or whatever her little head had calculated, who am I to stop her. "Answer me truthfully, bastard!" I gave a mocking twist to my brows. "What a girl like you can do when men like me make a claim on you?"

It was quite a delight to see her sneering face change into beet-red anger. She was boiling with the rage of being questioned, of her invisible honor.

"Assume, now I try to take your maiden-head…" I paused and squeezed my eyes. "That is another assumption… Well, let us assume your maiden-head is intact and I take it forcefully, what are you capable of doing?"

Her lips, nose, and cheeks turned red and redder. That little dire wolf pup of hers, which wasn't barking, stood with its front legs bent, ready to hunt me alive. "You will have to face my father's sword before you leave this place. He will sever your head–"

"Ah! Stop chanting praises for your father. I am Jaime Lannister, a trueborn son of the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms. You are a bastard girl, whose mother is probably a common-whore for the realm to know. My sister, the Queen, my brother, and the King himself would care so less for your maidenhead. Your father will have no choice other than to give you moon tea."

It wasn't in me to threaten a young girl about raping. Not that I was interested in her, in the slightest bit. Cersei was the only woman for my life. I hated her arrogant guts to challenge everyone and everything she saw upon. Her foolish naivety to presume the world was a better place triggered my angered soul. It was like seeing my own reflection from the past when I was even more stupid than her. This world was filled with monsters. Without a pragmatic sense of reality, she was assuming everyone to be beneath her ideological ideal self. Just like her father!

"I will survive, Ser!" She answered in her calmest voices, without meeting my eyes. In the next second, she steered her own glance towards her horse. "I am more than what is there between my legs. You can take what you want but can never break what I am made of!"

In a swift motion, she walked towards her horse, untying the reins from the pine tree. Both the horse and the dire wolf pup stared at me, in an accusatory glance for awarding pain to their master. Or it was my imagination to think that animals were capable of experiencing pain from their master.

It didn't matter; I said to myself. I only warned her to keep away from power, I convinced myself yet again, when she climbed efficiently and rode off without turning back.

Seeing her disappearing into the cloud of mist and fog made my heart race fast in agony. How much ever I tried convincing that I didn't care for that bastard girl, an unknown force in me, gave a plunging ache for wounding her innocent, naïve soul. It was easy. Wasn't it? To tell a little bundle of force that no one would give a dime about her because she was born with a bastard status, that she had no control of. To see her spirit get broken just so easily that she couldn't stand in the same place as any high born. It really was that easy.

I ended up feeling like a piece of shit like sometimes Joffrey would act like. What would my mother say about me, if she happened to see how I grew up to be? I had done worse crimes. I'd lied to my own brother, had killed a King that I swore to protect with my life, and had allowed my own father to butcher young children, had fucked my sister and had made her cuckold a ruling King. But I had never broken a young spirited girl with a world view of naivety.

Uninterested in returning to real life to guard a worthless King, I sat down on the same edge where the bastard girl had been sitting and looked beneath. On the opposite side of the slope, a silver sprinkled waterfall, graciously poured its slithering sleek water into the stream connecting to the nearby village. It was indeed a peaceful and beautiful land. I had to agree on that matter. Perhaps I was the cynical bastard, and not that willful, wild creature. Well, I don't regret what I am made of. I blame the world for what I turned out to be!

Hey! I came with a new chapter.

So, I want to clarify a few things. I am writing this fic, because I love so much about ASOIAF, and needed to let it out of my system. Perhaps, sometimes, my perception and absorption of characters and their behaviors don't resonate with yours.

In which case, you can simply stop reading my fic and read other plenty of amazing fanfics. But don't write hate comments. Ignore and move on.

I have deleted the disturbing comments for my sanity and most of these are from guest users. If it is feedback and good suggestion, I am open to correction, but if you simply are going to bash me, then write your own stories making your fav character the hero. Why so much hatred for a fanfiction story?

As to one user, why teenage Robb looked at Myrcella. Lyarra isn't a decisive narrator. She is an insecure girl and so; she assumes Robb has already started preferring Myrcella — the Princess. The truth is truly different. Alys points out that Lyarra is paranoid, and Myrcella is also too young for such conniving thoughts. That's what the truth is. Both Jaime and Lyarra aren't supposed to be perfect people. They are very flawed. POVs are written about how Lyarra would see her world. So, I wrote where she feels insecure when Myrcella even blushes for Robb. Thanks for asking politely, though. I am open to explain why I wrote their characters that way.

And thanks for others who like this story. Cheers!