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Chapter Forty-Nine: The Bear and the Maiden Fair
Arya
It was dark. There was a fire burning in the cave in front of her. She had been waiting all day for this. She had been impatient, but Anguy had quietly explained to her that the Lightning Lord worshiped the Lord of Light and that the trial by combat would have to take place in the darkness. Well, it was dark now and they still had not started. She wanted to see the Hound pay for what he had done to Micah. She wished they would stop their praying and get on with it already.
"Lord of Light, cast your light upon us," Thoros prayed, staring straight ahead at the fire.
"Lord of Light defend us," came the answering cry from the surrounding group. Arya looked around, wondering how they all seemed to know the words. Anguy cut the ropes that tied the Hound's hands together.
"Show us the truth," Thoros continued, "strike this man down if he is guilty, give strength to his sword if he is true. Lord of Light, give us wisdom." He turned away from the fire to look at the Brotherhood around him, "For the night is dark and full of terrors."
"For the night is dark and full of terrors," the Brotherhood parroted back.
Thoros handed Lord Beric his sword, she watched, brows furrowed as the leader of the Brotherhood used the edge of his blade to slice open his palm. He then ran the blood over the blade and it caught fire. She turned to look at Gendry, her eyebrows raised, he had told her that the flaming sword was a trick, that it was wildfire. But she was sure that Lord Beric Dondarrion did not have wildfire in his blood. Gendry shrugged his shoulders, unsure of what to make of the magic before them. She turned back to the center of the cave, smirking in delight when she caught sight of the fear in the Hound's eyes.
That's right, she thought, the Hound does not like fire.
She hoped he would burn.
Steel clashed against steel, the fiery sword glowed and flashed in the dark, but the fight was over too quickly. At first it seemed that Lord Beric would be the clear and easy victor. He had the Hound on the run, staying out of reach of the flaming sword. At one point the Hound actually stepped into the fire, screaming in rage and fear as he jumped back out. At another moment his wooden shield was on fire and Arya was sure that that would be the end of him. But he simply threw it to the ground and fought without it.
And now without the shield he was angry. For the first time Arya was able to see why the Hound had been named part of the Kingsguard, why he was Joffrey's sworn shield. He was strong. And he was fast. And he was good. He overpowered Lord Beric quickly and just as Arya was screaming at the Lighting Lord to kill him, to just kill him, the Hound knocked the man down to his knees and swung at him from above. His sword cut straight through the flaming sword and embedded itself in Lord Beric's chest.
For a moment the leader of the Brotherhood remained kneeling and then he fell to the side. The men around her fell into a quick and stony silence. Thoros rushed to Lord Beric's side, throwing himself over his body and praying to the Lord of Light. It was High Valyrian, she could not understand it though she was sure it was useless. Lord Beric was dead, just like Micah.
And the Hound was still alive.
She could feel the anger coursing through her veins as she grabbed Anguy's dagger and launched herself at the Hound. He was laying on the floor of the cave, he would be an easy kill. And perhaps it was justice for Micah for his murderer to be killed by a girl. "Arya," she heard Gendry yell from behind her. "Arya, no!"
And suddenly he was in front of her, catching around her middle and throwing her back, away from the Hound. She screamed at him. How many days had they spent together? He knew how important her list was to her. He knew the Hound was on it. He knew. And yet he kept her from killing him.
The Hound laughed. "Looks like the Gods like me more than your butcher's boy," he sneered at her.
"Burn in hell!" she screamed back, fighting against Gendry with everything she had.
"He will," said the only voice that could quiet her fight. The only voice that should not have spoken. She stopped fighting against Gendry and she felt his grip on her go lax as they both turned their gaze on Lord Beric who was sitting up, wincing a bit in pain. "But not today."
...
They set him free. They set him free. They set him free. Lord Beric had made the excuse that the Lord of Light was not done with the Hound yet. But that was a lie. The entire trial by combat had been a lie. The Hound had murdered Micah and once again he got away with it.
Arya did not speak to anyone for the rest of the evening. She glared at them. And recited her list over and over and over.
Cersei. Joffrey. The Mountain.
She stayed at the fire, glaring into the flames, cursing the stupid Lord of Light, and refused their attempts to feed her dinner.
Tywin Lannister. The Kingslayer. The Imp.
The men fell asleep around her until it was only Thoros, Lord Beric, and herself that seemed awake.
Ser Meryn. Ilyn Payne. The Hound.
She looked up at Thoros, glaring at him across the flames, "What are you going to do with me?" she asked him, speaking for the first time since the Hound had left the cave.
"At first light we'll ride for Riverrun," he told her. "Your brother's there now. He'll make a contribution to our cause and then you can go."
Cersei. Joffrey. The Mountain.
"So I'm a hostage," she told him. "And you're selling me." She wondered if her brother weren't alive, or if he was further away if the Brotherhood Without Banners would have sold her to the Lannisters instead.
"Don't think of it that way," Thoros counseled her, as if he could read her thoughts.
"But it is that way."
"It is and it isn't" the man told her.
"More is than isn't."
Tywin Lannister. The Kingslayer. The Imp.
Thoros watched her, "Beric admired your father a great deal, you know," he told her, as if that would soothe her worries. "He wanted to refuse your ransom all together."
"So why don't you?" Arya asked. So they wouldn't sell me to the Lannisters, for my father.
She watched as Lord Beric sat down next to Thoros. He watched her with his one eye for a moment before he sighed, "You're angry with me," he told her. It wasn't a question. "And I don't blame you. But letting him go was the right thing to do. And I have more reason than most to want him hanged."
"I thought he killed you."
Beric chuckled, "He did."
"But how -" she started.
"Thoros," Beric interrupted. "How many times have you brought me back."
"It's the Lord of Light who brings you back," Thoros told him. "I'm just the lucky drunk who says the words."
"Yes," Beric agreed, rolling his one eye. "But how many times?"
"Five?" Thoros asked. "This would make six." Arya felt her eyes widen as she watched the men. There was no way that Lord Beric could have died six times. It wasn't possible. But she had seen him set his blade on fire with nothing but his blood, so what did she know about possible. "There was the first time," Thoros said, holding up one of his fingers.
Beric nodded, "The Mountain," he agreed.
"Show her," Thoros commanded, "A lance through the chest." Beric undid the laces on his tunic so that he could open it and show her the scars that covered his chest. He ran his fingers over the scar on his chest before they dropped to a scar on his belly.
"Then I was stabbed in the belly."
"An arrow to the back," Thoros continued, studying his flagon as Beric gestured to another scar. Then an ax to the side." Beric's hand drifted into his tunic to touch his side.
"Then the Lannisters caught me," he continued as he laced his tunic back up. "And executed me for treason. Was that hanging?" he asked, turning to look at Thoros. "Or a dagger to the eye?"
"Both," Thoros told him, his tone almost bored. Lord Beric turned back to her and smiled as he lifted the scrap of fabric used as a patch over his eye. "The fuckers couldn't decide." The red priest sighed, "And the Hound makes six."
Beric shook his head, chuckling ruefully, "The second time I've been killed by a Clegane."
"You'd think you'd learn," Thoros chuckled. His laughter came to a quick end though, "It's not getting any easier, you know?"
"I know," Beric agreed. "Every time I come back I'm a bit ... less." He glanced at Arya, "Pieces of you get chipped away." He turned back to Thoros, "I feel that you won't have to deal with me much longer, my friend."
Arya glanced at Thoros, "Could you bring back a man without a head?" she asked. "Not six times. Just once."
They both looked at her with sympathy shining in their eyes. Arya looked away. She did not need their sympathy, she needed them to bring her father back. "I don't think it works that way, child," Thoros told her, his voice soft and gentle.
"He was a good man," Beric told her, no doubt hoping to comfort her. But she already knew that he was a good man. She did not need to hear it again. "Ned Stark. He's at rest now, somewhere. I would never wish my life upon him."
"I would," Arya assured him. "You're alive."
Ser Meryn. Ilyn Payne. The Hound.
...
She found Gendry the next morning as the men were preparing to leave the cave and head toward Riverrun. He was hiding from her, his back turned toward the cave as he mended one of the men's armor. "What are you doing?" she asked him though it was obvious what he was doing.
"Mending Lord Beric's armor," Gendry told her, looking up at her, shamefaced. "I'm going to stay on a smith for the Brotherhood."
"Why?" Arya yelled at him. "Do you think that when the Lannisters find this place they will spare the smiths? They'll kill you with your hammer in your hand."
"The Lannisters wanted me dead long before now," he told her. "And the Brotherhood needs good men."
"Robb needs good men too!" she told him. "We're leaving today. And then you can -"
"What?" Gendry asked her, "Serve him?" He shook his head. "Look, I have served men my whole life. I served Master Mott at King's Landing and he sold me to the Knight's Watch. I served Lord Tywin at Harrenhal wondering every day if I'd get tortured or killed." His jaw clenched. "I'm done serving."
"You just said that you're serving Lord Beric," Arya pointed out.
"He may be their leader, but they chose him," he told her. The men in the North chose my brother she wanted to scream at him. "These men are brothers," he continued. "They're a family."
She realized that she would not win him over. He had made up his mind. And he had hid from her so that he would not have to tell her himself. She turned away from him, she could feel tears prickling her eyes and the last thing she wanted was for him to see her cry. He waited until she had taken a step away from him before he said, "I've never had a family."
She turned back to him, "I can be your family," she told him, her voice cracking.
He smiled at her, almost ruefully, "Well you wouldn't be my family," he told her, "you'd be my Lady."
And that was when she saw it. No matter what she said, no matter what she did. Gendry would never stay with her. Because even if she did not treat him like he was inferior, he believed it.
...
The Red Woman met them on the second day of their ride toward Riverrun. She spoke to Thoros in High Valyrian for a few minutes before he agreed to take her to see Lord Beric. Arya started to follow them, she did not trust the woman. But Thoros turned to look at her and smiled down softly, "I'm sorry, Little Lady," he told her. "But you must stay here."
He left her with Anguy and Gendry as he and the red woman rode toward the back of the column where Beric was riding.
She waited impatiently. They would not let her go with them. But the Brotherhood would not ride without Thoros at the front. They had to wait.
They waited for almost an hour. For almost an hour she had to stand there and listen to Gendry talk to Anguy about arrow heads and rejoice in his new position as member of the Brotherhood Without Banners instead of hostage.
She hated him for it.
When she came back the Red Woman came with a cart that had been converted into a cage with wooden bars. "I don't like that woman," Arya told Gendry and Anguy.
Both men looked up at the woman and smiled. "That's because you're a girl," Anguy told her with a chuckle.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Arya asked as the Red Woman, Thoros, and Lord Beric approached them.
She never got an answer.
"Forgive me, lad," Lord Beric told Gendry before two of the soldiers the Red Woman had brought with her grabbed Gendry.
He fought against them, but they were bigger, taller, stronger. "What are you doing?" Arya yelled at them, grabbing the closest one by the arm and trying to make him let go of Gendry. The soldier threw her off of him and into Anguy. "Tell them to stop!" she ordered the archer. He was friends with Gendry, they had been talking about arrows. She could not understand why he would let them take Gendry. She moved away from Anguy to yell at Thoros and Lord Beric. "He wants to join the Brotherhood. He wants to be one of you. Why are you letting them take him?"
"We serve the Lord of Light," Lord Beric told her, his voice infuriatingly calm. "And the Lord of Light needs this boy."
"Did the Lord of Light tell you that? Or did she?" Arya yelled at him, glaring at the Red Woman. The woman looked at her for a long moment before she turned away from her and followed Gendry and his guards toward the cage. "You're not doing this for your god," Arya sneered as she watched one of the soldiers return with two large sacks of coins. "You're doing this for gold."
"We're doing it for both girl," Thoros told her, moving closer. His voice was quiet, he meant to soothe her as he had the night before when he told her not to think of herself as a hostage. "We cannot defend the people without weapons and horses and food. And we cannot get weapons and horses and food without gold."
"You told me this was a brotherhood!" Gendry yelled from the cart. "You told me I could be one of you!"
The Red Woman moved closer to him, "You are more than they could ever be," she told him. "They are just foot soldiers in the great war. You will make Kings rise and fall."
As they shoved him into the cage she moved back to her horse to ready the saddle to ride again. Arya pushed past Thoros so that she could approach her. "You're a witch," she accused when the woman turned to look at her. "You're going to hurt him."
The woman stared at her face for a moment before she reached out and grabbed her chin, "I see a darkness in you," she told Arya. "And in that darkness eyes staring back at me. Brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes. Eyes you'll shut forever. We will meet again," she promised.
As she let go of Arya's chin and turned back to her horse all Arya could think was that the witch's eyes were blue.
Perhaps those would be the blue eyes she would shut forever.
-.-.-.-.-
Lenora
"You're angry with me," Robb told her as they mounted their horses. It wasn't a question, it was a statement, an assumption. And truth be told Lenora was angry, though not with him.
She was angry with the weather. It was raining again, it had been raining since they left Riverrun three days before. She had spent the last two days cold and wet and on a horse.
She was angry with Edmure for complaining. He was unhappy to have to marry a girl that he did not choose. He was jealous of Lord Bolton for having been given the choice of daughters while he, the Lord of Riverrun, had one mandated for him. And she understood more than most how upsetting it could be to be forced into a marriage that she had not chosen. But instead of bearing his anger in silence as would have been expected and honorable. Edmure complained.
Day in and day out he complained.
And she was angry at Lord Walder Frey for changing his terms after a deal had been struck. For daring to place orders on his king. For calling Robb's honor and honesty into question. But most of all she was angry that the man had used letters from her grandfather to threaten Robb into complying with these new terms.
And yes, perhaps she was a bit angry with Robb. For not only agreeing with the new terms, but for agreeing to travel out to the Twins to attend the wedding. They had not attended Lord Bolton's quiet wedding to the fat Frey girl, and Roose Bolton was a much more useful, and perhaps loyal, bannerman than Walder Frey. Lord Walder had taken half of his soldiers without asking for either permission or forgiveness from his King. He had, to some extent, consorted with her grandfather, the enemy. And he had threatened Robb into accepting new terms on a deal that had already been made.
And Robb had allowed him to do it.
If Walder Frey had been her grandfather's man instead of Robb's and he had tried to pull this stunt Lenora knew what would have happened. Tywin would travel to the Twins as well, but it would not be for a wedding. He would behead Walder Frey and bestow the Twins onto someone else. Someone more loyal.
Instead Robb was rewarding the man with a very good marriage for his daughter, a new castle and lands, and the king's presence at the wedding.
It would make him look weak to their Lannister enemies.
It might make him look weak to his own men.
"Lenora," Robb pressed when she did not answer right away. "Talk to me."
"I mislike it," she told him, her eyes facing forward so that she would not have to look at him. "I don't trust Walder Frey and neither should you."
"I don't trust him," Robb assured her. "But I need him."
"He's not loyal," Lenora told him. "He's not loyal. He serves himself, not you. And the moment my grandfather offers him terms that are more to his liking he will turn on you."
"His sons have already said that Lord Tywin offered him sweeter terms than mine, and he still chose me," Robb pointed out. "And his daughter will be married to my uncle and living at Riverrun, do you think he would turn on me when I would hold his daughter? When I could imprison her? Or kill her for his crimes?"
"He chose you because you were closer. The bulk of the Lannister forces remain in King's Landing until after Joffrey's wedding. If they left today it would still be a moon's turn before they reached the Twins. But if he were to turn on you, you would march on him. He chose you because you're the bigger threat at the moment. But that might not always be the case."
"We will still have his daughter," Robb pointed out.
"And he has many more,' Lenora argued, adjusting her grip on her reins. "Even if you were to kill her. What's the loss of one daughter when he has so many more? Perhaps he'd even be thankful for it. One less mouth he would have to feed."
"You think he cares so little for his kin?" Robb asked her. He was watching her, she could feel his blue eyes on her. He thought her cold for expecting so little from Walder Frey. Well, cold she may be, but she thought he was a fool for thinking so much of the man. It was clear that Robb did not like Walder Frey, but he seemed to think more of the man's sense of duty and loyalty than she did. "You think he would give her to us to use how we see fit and not care how his actions might affect her wellbeing? He's her father."
"And the queen regent is my mother," Lenora fired back. "You've seen the two of us together. Very few people have a kind word to say about my mother. But the one thing everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knows is that Cersei Lannister loves her children. She loves me, I'd dare say she loves me more than Lord Walder loves any of his children. Perhaps even more than Walder Frey loves his own skin. And you had me. Her actions could have a profound affect on my wellbeing. If you had been any other man I could have been killed. But did that stop her from allowing Joffrey to cut off your father's head? Did that stop her from declaring war on you? Did that stop my grandfather and my uncle from fighting you in battle?"
Robb was silent. She had made her point and she had made it well. She sighed, finally turning to look at the man riding beside her. "Grandfather would have him killed," she told him. "Whether he was still a Lannister man or not. He would have him killed just for the doubt of it."
"Well, I'm not your grandfather," Robb pointed out.
"No," Lenora told him, shaking her head. Her voice was quiet and flat. "No, you are not. And that's the shame of this whole business."
"The shame?" Robb bit back. "You think it is a shame that I keep my word? My father kept his word. My father was honorable. My father did his duty. Always. And that is what a king should do. How can I ask my men, my country, to follow me into battle if they cannot trust that I will do the right thing after the war is over?" He shook his head and sighed. "I gave Lord Walder my word when he allowed us to use the crossing. He thinks that I broke it, or that I'm dragging my feet on the matter. I mean to show him that I have not and will not break the faith."
"He gave you his word as well," Lenora told him. "He swore his fealty to you and named you his King. And he still broke his word. He took back his men and allowed my grandfather's offers to turn his head, at least a little. You do not owe him anything."
"Men may break their words," Robb told her. "Even if the man is a bannerman. But a liege lord, a King may not. My father -"
"Is dead," Lenora interrupted. She knew it would hurt him to hear it, but she needed him to hear her, to listen to what she had to say and understand where she came from. "He was honorable, and honest, and he did his duty. And he died for it. Do you know who survives this world? The dishonorable, the liars, the men who give their word and break it. The men without scruples. The men who see duty as an ever changing thing. The Walder Freys of the world. The Tywin Lannisters of the world. The honorable Starks are dying."
Robb watched her, his jaw clenched, "You knew who I was when you married me," he told her.
"You didn't give me much choice in the matter," Lenora fired back.
That made him chuckle, though it was not his usual laugh full of joy and light. This one was dark and humorless. "Aye," he agreed with her. "I did not. But it did not take you long to decide that you loved me. To be happy with me. Has that changed with Lord Walder's new terms?"
Lenora sighed, "I do love you," she told him. "That has not changed. It will never change. I don't know if I know how to unlove you, even if I wanted to. And it is because I love you that I must tell you the harsh realities of the world. And one of those realities is that I think you are making a terrible mistake trusting Lord Walder. I don't know when, I don't know how, but I know he will betray you. I can feel it."
"Woman's intuition is it?" Robb asked. This time when he laughed it was a bit closer to his usual sound. Her assurances that she loved him had done their job. He would not listen to her, but at least he was not angry with her for speaking her mind. "Tell me, love, shall I have Grey Wind smell him before I attend the wedding? Shall we leave if the wolf growls?"
Lenora glared at him, though there was little heat to it. I wish you would, she thought. She sighed and shook her head as she looked away from him. "I believe in you, Robb Stark. I believe that you will make a great King. That you will treat your subjects with honor and respect, two things they do not get from my brother. Two things they did not get from my father, or the Mad King before him. I believe that you will make the Seven Kingdoms a better place."
"Then trust my decision now," Robb cut in, begging her to stop being angry with him. "Believe that I know what I'm doing."
Lenora shook her head, "I believe that if you continue acting like an honorable Stark you will never see the end of this war. I believe that if you keep believing that every man has your father's sense of honor and duty you will never be able to do all the good you plan for these kingdoms. I believe that men like Walder Frey have survived a lot longer than you have, and they will continue to survive long after you're gone."
"You think this war is a worthless cause then?" Robb asked.
"I think you're not listening to me," Lenora told him, smiling in spite of herself. "I think you are deliberately not listening to me. I think this war is the most worthy cause, but I think you will lose it if you continue to carry the assumption that all men think as you do. That all men think and act as your father did." She shook her head. "I think I will lose you," she told him, lifting her gaze to his face. "And I won't know what to do if I lose you."
Robb's face softened as he watched her. "You will know what to do, Nora," he promised her. "You will keep going. Because you are a survivor. You got it from your mother's blood. You will keep going and you will be just as strong without me as you are now. Perhaps stronger, as you will have lost your fear of losing me."
Lenora felt tears filling her eyes and she quickly blinked them away. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of him. She wanted to be the strong woman he described, she wanted to believe it as he did. He sighed, a soft smile resting on his lips, "All this worry is for naught," he told her. "You will never lose me, Nora, I promise you." He looked away from her for a moment, his gaze moving over the long column of men and horses following behind them. "And as evidenced by all this trouble for a wedding, I always keep my word."
Lenora laughed in spite of herself.
-.-.-.-.-
Jaime
He had bathed with her. He had told her the story of his nickname, the story he had told no one save Lenora. She had saved him when he passed out and had practically carried him to Roose Bolton's tower where they were to have supper with the Leech Lord. If Jaime was able to think of anything besides his missing hand he would have been ashamed to admit how much he had needed to rely on the wench that evening.
But all he could think about was his missing hand. And all the things he could no longer do with it. He could not fight with a sword, he could not dress himself, for the sake of the Seven he could not even cut his own damn meat. He was struggling with it now, as Lord Bolton finally decided to speak with them.
"I see my men have found you something appropriate to wear," he started with Brienne.
Jaime snorted appropriate would not be the word he would use to describe the dress. It was pink satin with Myrish lace. And had obviously been cut for a very differently proportioned woman. A woman with slimmer arms and shorter legs, and much bigger breasts. Pink was not the wench's color. All in all the dress made her look more ridiculous than usual. Though it was a gown, and she was a woman - he had seen her cunt to prove it - so as far as Roose Bolton and his men were concerned, perhaps it was appropriate.
The wench shot him a glare at his snort before she answered Lord Bolton, "Yes," she agreed with him. "Most kind of them." She paused for a moment, glancing between Jaime and Lord Bolton. "Lord Bolton," she started, "I must ask - what are your intentions with the Kingslayer?"
Lord Bolton smiled, though Jaime misliked it, he did not trust the smile. He turned to lower his pale-eyed gaze on Jaime, "You are a perilous prize, Ser," he informed him. "You sow dissension wherever you go. Even here, in my happy house of Harrenhal." His voice was nothing more than a whisper. "And in Riverrun as well, it seems. Do you know, Edmure Tully has offered a thousand golden dragons for your recapture?"
A thousand? Jaime thought. Is that all? "My father will pay ten times as much," he promised.
"Will he?" He was smiling again, it seemed to himself. As if he were in on some joke that Jaime and Brienne were not. "Ten thousand dragons is a formidable sum. Of course, there is Lord Karstark's offer to consider as well. He promises the hand of his daughter to the man who brings him your head." He was quiet for a moment, letting that sink in before he continued, "Fortunately for you, I have no need of a wife. I wed the Lady Walda Frey whilst I was at the Twins."
"Fair Walda?" Jaime asked, there were so many Waldas that they each had a nickname.
"Fat Walda," Lord Bolton corrected.
Jaime watched the man for a moment, trying to figure out if he was jesting. He couldn't tell. Lord Bolton looked at him for a long moment and then he mused, "Perhaps I ought to make a wedding gift of you to Edmure Tully." He spoke slow and soft, but Jaime heard every word, "Or I could strike your head off, as your sister did for Eddard Stark."
"I would not advise it," Jaime told him, still struggling with his meat. His knife was dull, he was sure that was the problem. "Casterly Rock has a long memory."
"And the North has a longer one," Bolton argued. "And a thousand leagues of mountain, sea, and bog lie between my walls and your rock. Lannister enmity means little to Bolton."
"Lannister friendship could mean much," Jaime countered. They were playing the game now, both he and Lord Bolton knew it. He wondered if Brienne knew too. He did not look at her to see.
"I am not certain you are the sort of friends a wise man would want," Bolton told him. Again with that smile.
"You're a Stark bannerman, Lord Bolton," the wench cut in, reminding the lord of his place. "I am acting on Lady Stark's orders to return Ser Jaime to King's Landing. An exchange for her daughters. You must free us to continue on our way."
"The raven that came from Riverrun told of an escape, not an exchange. King Robb is holding his mother as his prisoner. If she were not his mother he would have had her hanged for treason," Lord Bolton told her.
It seemed that Brienne had had enough of watching Jaime struggle with his meat. Without a word her right hand shot out and she rammed her fork into the meat, holding it steady for him so that he could cut a bite for himself. Roose watched the exchange with a smirk, "I serve the King in the North," he told them. "Or the King Who Lost the North, as some now call him." Jaime smirked at that, it was treason to say what Lord Bolton had. But Lord Bolton was a smart man, he would not have said it if he weren't in the market to stop serving the King in the North. "I should send you both back to him."
"Perhaps you should," Jaime told him with a nod. "But instead you're here, watching me fail at dinner. Why is that?"
The wench was tense beside him, she did not like where this conversation was going. But Jaime loved it. When he spoke next Lord Bolton addressed the wench, "Lady Brienne, would it calm your nerves to know that I hope to send Ser Jaime on, just as you and Lady Stark desire?"
"I - you'll send us on?" she stuttered out, mistrustful of the lord's generosity. "That is good, my Lord."
Bolton nodded and turned to Jaime, "As soon as you're well enough to travel I will allow you to go to King's Landing as restitution for the mistakes my soldiers made," his pale eyes dropped to the stump that now made up the end of Jaime's right hand. "And you will swear to tell your father the truth, that I had nothing to do with your maiming."
Jaime grinned, "My Lord, send me to my father, and I'll sing as sweet a song as you could want, of how gently you treated me. Had I a hand, I'd write it out. How I was maimed by the sellsword my own father made, and saved by the noble Lord Bolton." He turned to the wench, "My Lady, may our journey continue without further incident."
"Oh," Lord Bolton interjected, shaking his head. "I said that you would continue on to King's Landing, I said nothing about the Lady."
"Lady Catelyn -" Brienne started.
"Were I you, my Lady, I should worry less about the Starks and rather more about sapphires," Lord Bolton cut her off.
Jaime felt his heart sink, Bolton meant to leave her at Harrenhal with Locke. And Locke still believed the lie about the Sapphire Isle. Jaime's lie. "I'm afraid I must insist."
"You are in no place to insist anything," Lord Bolton told him. "I had hoped that you had learned your lesson about overplaying your," he paused, "position."
Jaime glanced at Brienne, there was nothing he could do for her. He wanted to apologize but he could not find the words. She watched him for a moment before she nodded.
She understood.
...
He dreamed about her the first night on the road back to King's Landing. The wench. They were together in dark cave, there was no light, but somehow he knew they were underneath Casterly Rock. There was water in the cave, and something else in there with them. A beast that growled. The wench guessed that it was a bear, Jaime was sure it was a direwolf. But whatever it was, they had no weapons to defend themselves. And even if they had, he had not hand to hold one.
He woke from his fever dream screaming some time before dawn. In a matter of moments Qyburn and the leader of his guard, Steelshanks they called him, were by his side. Jaime paid no attention to the guard's questions as Qyburn helped him sit up. Instead he turned to the disgraced maester, "You were in charge of the ravens at Harrenhal. Did you, did you get a bird off to Brienne's father in Tarth?"
"A bird flew off and a bird flew back," Qyburn assured him. "Lord Selwyn Tarth offered three hundred gold dragons for his daughter's safe return."
Some of Jaime's fear abated. That was a good offer, Locke would be a fool not to take it. "Fair offer," he commented.
"More than fair," Qyburn agreed with him. "But Locke won't take it." Jaime raised his eyebrows. "Someone's convinced him that Tarth owns all the sapphire mines in Westeros. He thinks he's being cheated."
"They'd be fools to kill her," Jaime argued.
"These men have been at war a long time," Qyburn made an excuse for their behavior. "Most of them will be dead by winter. She'll be their entertainment tonight, but beyond tonight?" He shook his head, "I don't think they care very much."
Jaime ran his fingers through his hair, then he turned, squinting in the near dark to look at Steelshanks, "Walton," he addressed the guard using his family name. "Saddle the horses. I want to go back."
"Back?" the northman asked him, looking at Jaime as if he had lost his mind.
Perhaps I have, Jaime thought. "I left something behind."
"And I've got orders from Lord Bolton," Steelshanks argued.
"And what are those orders?" Jaime asked, his tone sarcastic.
"To deliver you to your father in King's Landing."
Once Jaime might have countered with a smile and a threat, but one-handed cripples do not inspire much fear. He wondered what his brother would do. Tyrion would find a way. "Lannisters lie, Steelshanks. Didn't Lord Bolton tell you that?" he asked.
The man frowned,"What if he did?"
Now, Jaime smiled, "Unless you take me back to Harrenhal, the song I sing my father may not be one that the Lord of the Dreadfort would wish to hear. I might even say it was Bolton ordered my hand cut off, and Steelshanks Walton who swung the blade."
"That isn't so!" Steelshanks argued with him.
"No, but who will my father believe?" He paused for a moment, "We return to Harrenhal, now."
And by the time the sun came up, they were halfway back to Harrenhal.
Jaime pushed his horse much harder than he had the day before, and Steelshanks and the northmen were forced to match his pace. Even so, it was midday before they reached the castle on the lake.
The sky was darkening with a coming storm. And there was no one to be found on the castle walls. It was almost too quiet. Steelshanks ordered him to get what he had come for when he heard it. "Be quiet!" he ordered.
Singing, he could hear singing. And laughter. He quickly dismounted, in a moment he understood what was happening. His stomach lurched as he ran across the outer ward, beneath an arched stone bridge, around the Wailing Tower, and through the Flowstone Yard.
They had her in the bear pit.
All the sellswords were packed in the stands singing The Bear and the Maiden Fair at the tops of their lungs. Their focus on the spectacle before them was so great that none seemed to recognize Jaime as he pushed his way toward the railing.
Brienne wore the same ill-fitting gown she'd worn to supper with Roose Bolton. No shield, no breastplate, no chainmail, not even boiled leather. Only pink satin and Myrish lace. Perhaps they found her more amusing when she was dressed as a woman. Her dress was torn, and her neck bleeding from where the bear had raked her.
The men were yelling at her, a mix between insults and obscene suggestions as she kept trying to run away from the bear. "Well, this is one shameful fucking performance," he heard Locke yell.
At least they gave her a sword. But he had thought too soon. He watched as she jabbed her sword into the beast's side, but there was no blood. They had given her a play sword. "A wooden sword?" he yelled out, turning to glare at Locke.
If he was surprised to see him, Locke did not say so. "We've only got one bear," he told Jaime, completely unashamed.
"I'll pay her bloody ransom," Jaime bargained through clenched teeth. "Gold, sapphires, whatever you want."
Locke turned away from the fight with a roll of his eyes, "All you high lords and ladies think the only thing that matters is gold. But this makes me happier than all your gold," he growled, grabbing at Jaime's stump. "And that makes me happier than all her sapphires." He pointed at the pit. "So go buy yourself a golden hand and fuck yourself with it."
The men around them cheered and Jaime turned back to the pit in time to see the bear swipe angrily at Brienne, knocking her sword from her grasp. Its next attack sent her falling to the ground. He didn't think. He only acted.
His good hand fell to the railing and he vaulted himself over it, rolling as he hit the sand. Bear and woman turned to look at him, both bewildered. "Kingslayer?" Brienne asked, astonished.
"Jaime," he told her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Something stupid," Jaime assured her, his eyes never leaving the bear. Whatever confusion the beast had felt by his arrival was quickly diminishing. "Get behind me."
He expected her to argue with him. But she didn't. She listened and started to run toward him. But with one swipe of its large paws the bear kicked her legs out from under her. She fell to the sand again. Jaime straddled her, shielding her body with his own.
The bear came charging.
There was a deep twang and a feathered shaft sprouted suddenly on the bear's right shoulder. Jaime turned to see Steelshanks loading another bolt in his crossbow. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Locke yelled at him.
"Lord Bolton charged me with bringing the Kingslayer back to King's Landing alive. That's what I aim to do," Steelshanks told him, loosing another bolt into the bear.
Jaime took advantage of the bear's distraction. He stood from the ground and ran for the outer edge of the pit, "Pull her up!" he ordered, bending down so that Brienne could climb on his back and be tall enough for the men to grab her. She was a heavy thing, but in a matter of moments they were pulling her out of the pit.
The bear chose that moment to charge again.
Brienne had them hold her legs and she leaned over the edge of the pit, reaching for him. It was a struggle to climb, what with one hand and a bear charging at him. But with her help Jaime managed to climb high enough that he was out of the bear's reach. He made it to the platform and turned in time to see one of Steelshanks' bolts imbed itself in the bear's eye, killing the beast.
"You slew my bear!" Locke yelled at Jaime's guard, as if he were more angry about the bear than Brienne's rescue.
Steelshanks was not to be intimidated though, he leveled Locke with a glare. "And I'll serve you the same if you give me trouble," he threw back. He paused for a moment, thoughtful, "We're taking the wench," he told Locke.
"Her name is Brienne," Jaime corrected him, not taking his eyes off the girl as he searched for more serious injuries. "Brienne, the maid of Tarth. You are still maiden, I hope?"
She blushed and nodded, "Yes."
"Oh good," Jaime told her with a nod. "I only rescue maidens."
...
She waited until they were well away from Harrenhal and it was dark before she approached him. "Ser Jaime?" she asked as they sat by a fire that night. "I am grateful, for what you did. But ... you were well away. Why did you come back?"
A dozen quips came to mind, each one crueler than the one before. But Jaime only shrugged and settled for the truth, "I dreamed of you," he said.
Author's Note:
Hello friends! A long chapter this morning! One that I hope you enjoyed!
Did you? Did you? Did you?
You should let me know by posting a review down in that beautiful box down there! It's sad. And reviews make it happy.
Reviews make me happy too! And a happy writer updates more frequently. Just saying ...
Anyway, thank you for reading! And thank you to the wonderful souls who reviewed the last chapter. Seriously... THANK YOU.
ZabuzasGirl: Thank you! Hope you enjoy this newest chapter!
RHatch89: I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope this chapter was good too. Is the foreboding setting in yet? I post the Red Wedding chapter this week.
darkwolf76: Every once in a while I like to throw in nice Cersei. I write that sarcastically because I imagine that even when she seems nice, there's a hint of cruelty in it. But it's lovely to write because it would be so easy to make Cersei a one dimensional bitch, and I don't think she is. She's a much more enjoyable character when you don't know what Cersei you're going to get. As for that scene, I think she was nice, not for the sake of being nice to Tyrion, but because she felt sorry for Sansa and it just bled over to her interactions with her brother. Remember ... Cersei has been in Sansa's situation before.
As for Sansa without giving too much away. Her plot is going to get more and more AU after her wedding to Tyrion. I so desperately want to play with Ramsay, but I can't do that to Sansa. It would make me incredibly unhappy to write that. She's too innocent for that shit.
And I have to write Lenora and Robb so cute because that's how it hurts. The cuter they are, the more it hurts if something were to happen to them. And it's GoT so there's gotta be pain somewhere.
As for your question ... yes. If Robb survives there is still a chance for a Stark baby as well. It's just a guarantee if he dies.
Provider of odd things: Hello new reviewer! I love your name! Thank you for reviewing! I am so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter just as much. Because you are a new reviewer I will give you a promise, the Red Wedding will be bad, but not as bad as the television show. (Full disclosure: I'm not really revealing anything because in the show both Robb and his wife die. In this story ... we already know that at least Lenora will survive.)
As for Tywin's plans, yes a baby born to Lenora and Robb would have a stronger claim on Winterfell than one to Tyrion and Sansa. But Tyrion and Sansa are in King's Landing Lenora and Robb are pretty far away. And Lenora has been with Robb for so long that there is no guarantee that Tywin would be able to control her. Sansa is a safer bet, she's easy to control.
When Lenora finds out about the moon tea she will be angry, and there will be eventual vengeance. Though she'll have to be patient for it.
WritingNOOB: Gods! You guys are all writing books for reviews. Which means I have to write books back. I love it. As you can see in this chapter Lenora agrees with you. Robb is an idiot for being so honorable. And she's terrified that it's going to get him killed. She's been walking this line for so long, where she doesn't want to call him out on it for fear that his men will lose respect for their King who gets schooled by his wife. But at the same time, this isn't just his fight anymore. He praises her for being Tywin's granddaughter and it's time she starts acting like it. You're going to see a lot of that soon.
As for your gut feeling you are right. Tywin has contacted Bolton and asked for the safe return of his granddaughter. During this chapter Bolton sweetened the pot by returning the son as well.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
HPuni101: You should be nervous. T-minus two days until the Red Wedding. Get ready! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you so much for your review!
That's it for now guys!
Thank you, once again, so much!
Chloe Jane.