Past
Myrcella and Tommen. Once, Cersei was important. Now only children. Only them. Why then he wanted to help a completely foreign girl, the daughter of a foreign woman, the sister of a guy who put him in prison? It is useful to have a debt of gratitude to the General Prosecutor, but was the game worth all the trouble and danger? Nobody will know what he really think. Maybe only her. If she asks - but she probably won't. In his world women asks, they talk, men only comfort women. The men did their best. They look after and protect, even from behind the bars. Maybe he could see the children.
He had to admit that Snowflake was effective. He mocked him by telling him to look for Sandor - he was the only person who visited him in gaol. In Dreadfort it was not difficult to find almost 6ft tall fucker with a burned face or scars, but the matter was facilitated by the fact that Sandor had no tattoos and loved to eat chickens, so he dined regularly in predictable places. Sansa attended to boarding school in Torrhen's Town, but by the time they talk in prison, she was already escorted on her way home to Winterfell Manor in Wintertown. She was to get police protection, and Jaime was to find and, as Snow puts it, neutralize Ramsay. He sent Sandor to meet Sansa and set off with Snow to Winterfell.
Then, things got complicated - Sandor called in the evening and said that Sansa slipped away from security. Jaime without a word took a leather jacket, Aviators and just left the bar, where they were staying.
- Lannister! - Blackwater, another undercover was about to follow the gangster, when Clegane stopped him by force.
- Leave it. His ex-wife regularly ran away from home when she was a girl.
- Well, so what?!
- He's been good at founding her.
- And?!
- And finally they got married and divorced.
- Is this supposed to calm me down ?!
- Yes, because she stopped running away since the wedding.
- And after the divorce?
- Well, that's a second husband's problem, isn't it?
Sansa looked in the mirror. Once again, she checked if her red hair was well hidden under the dark cap. Tomorrow they would reach Hills Hornwood, and in three or four days to Karhold, where nobody would look for her.
- Matt? Matt? - He probably went downstairs, she thought.
She took things and closed the motel room. Carefully she looked out into the yard and froze. Matt Karstark talked to these fuckers from Flayed Men! She dropped the bag, took out all the cash and stuffed it into her pocket. She took the phone but turned it off and pulled out the card. She started to look for the back exit. She thought it was good that Spring had arrived.
Meanwhile, the Flayed Men began to get impatient.
- Matt, where is that red pussy? Go check it out!
The boy went and one of Ramsay's pets poked a buddy.
- Chicks ... they're always late ... And Ramsay is waiting! And we are waiting in line!
The engine sounded.
- Hey look! Who is this?
- Nice motorcycle, grandpa! We could use it!
Jaimie quickly assessed his strength. A car, three motorbikes, six men, one with a visible weapon.
- Have you seen a red-haired girl here, about 17 years old?
- And what, do you date her? - they croaked.
- She's a homerunner and I'd better find her first. Before you!
Jamie brought out the right hook without notice, after which the first of six bastards understood the concept of "fall head over hills," and from the crack of bones Jaime could've concluded that he had broken jaw. Another, who pulled out a knife fell to the ground and howled in pain and terror after Jaimie put the lever on him and broke his elbow. The other two tried to catch him, but one took a kick in the stomach, and the other ended with the nose crashed by Jaimie's backhead. He kicked them at the knees and kidneys. He only stopped when the fifth aimed his gun at him.
- My name is Jaimie Lannister. Think about it, you bastard, do you want to shoot me? When the Black Brothers follow you, this freak Ramsay will not help you.
- OK ... OK ... help us find a Stark girl! Ramsey ... - Jamie took a moment's hesitation to twist the juvenile's wrist and take the weapon away. The last one threw the baseball bat. - Good boy. And now you can tell me who brought you here ... - he drained the tap and aimed at the shaking boy - ...and then one of you will go to Ramsay and tell him that Sansa Stark is in my care. If her hair falls off, Ramsay would seem like child's what he did with Greyjoy. Understood?
- Eh ... why one of us? - Instead of explaining, Jamie shot a hero who was trying to reach for a knife. - There can be two. I'm not greedy, but one is already dead, and the rest probably need a doctor ... - he shot three tires, then reached behind his own weapon. - ... and now I have nine bullets, you have one car and the choice. Either you report to the police and you run away from me and my brother like hell, or we end the fun here and now. Make your decisions quickly because I'm in a hurry.
- Fuck Ramsay! - moaned the shivering boy. - Mr. Lannister, Matt Karstark helped us, but I didn't want to hurt this chick, it's Ramsay, you don't know what he is, I am begging you, don't kill me, I just wanted ... I swear ...
- You bastard! - one of the kicked people shouted, and Jaime shot him. He didn't kill, he aimed sideways.
- Shut up. And you, don't you whine like a dog or take oaths that you don't intend to keep. You have entered the lottery ticket and you still have the chance to be a man and stop to lick the shoes of a psychopath. Run, stay, it doesn't matter to me.
Jaime reached for the baseball bat, kicked the knife somewhere far into the parking lot and went to the reception.
- Buddy, was a red-haired girl here?
- I don't know, if red, but bbb ... she came out through the back exit! - he pointed out. - Her boyfriend went off looking for her.
- If a patrol arrives, have them call Prosecutor Stark. Understood? He will know what to do and what happened. One corpse, one escaped, if he has a little reason. - Jaime tossed the roll onto the counter. - It's for losses. Lannisters always pay their debts, remember.
The receptionist just nodded. He didn't get up. He felf like having a wet pants. What the fuck is this? Kings Landing ?! There was never a shootout here!
Sansa hid in some kind of big pipe. There was a lot of construction equipment here, maybe he won't find it. Maybe he won't find her, Mother, look after me!
She heard motorcycle.
- Sansa! - she jumped - Here you are! Why are you running away from me?
- I heard something and got scared. - she stood up, trying to be calm, though her knees buckled.
Matt embraced her.
- Honey, you don't have to run away from me ... my sweet, you're shocked! You're gonna be fine, though, let's get out of here.
- And this motorbike? - she pretended to embrace him.
- It's nothing, come on!
When he pulled away, she fled. He grabbed her by the sleeve, she ripped off her jacket, lost her hat, ran blindly until she reached some makeshift storage and slammed the door behind her. She put the chair under the door handle and began to look for a weapon and escape route.
- Gentle Mother, strength of women, help our daughters through this fray. Soothe the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way. - she repeated quietly, time after time.
Matt's scream sounded outside, but after a while it stopped, giving way to vengeance.
- Sansa Stark ?! Get out! Sansa? - A male voice called out. Adult and deep. Maybe it's a policeman? - I'm Jaime Lannister, I will help you!
- Oh fuck. - she said. I wonder what the septa Mordane would say? First prayer, then swearing. Well, but she wasn't threatened by Ramsay Bolton, Sansa thought in a fit of deadly humor. There was no second exit.
- Sansa. - the man banged on the magazine door.
Wait. Lannister is Bolton's enemy. Just what is he doing here?
- Are you alone?! - she shouted.
- Alone! - he chuckled. - Come out, kid. If I wanted to hurt you, I'd have knocked that door out a long time ago. Come out, we don't have all day for chats.
- Find my jacket and tie Matt, I'll leave! - Nice thought. She heard him leave. Slowly, she set down the chair and opened the door. He was not visible. She pushed the door open and fled to escape, only to collide a moment later with a mountain of muscles and get stuck in an iron grip. She snapped her teeth, but she couldn't reach bare skin.
- Bite me and I'll spank your ass, I swear! - he moaned lifting her up in the air. - Enough of that! He tossed her over his shoulder like a fucking caveman and began carrying her back to the motel. Holding her ass, of course.
- Let me go! - she screamed.
- You've caused enough trouble! I'm on fucking conditional, but how do I explain to your brother two or three shots and one corpse? And all this before ten o'clock!
- Let me go ... please ... - and at least get my hand off my ass, because I've never felt so weird, she thought.
- Repeate?
- Please.
- No. I'd love to watch the cops laugh at you being carried on my shoulder.
- Please, don't do this to me.
- Repeat. Nicely! - He laughed at her most insolently in the world and still clutched his long fingers on her ass, and worst of all, it did not disgust her, nor was she afraid. She swallowed her anger.
- Please, don't do this to me.
Suddenly the world staggered and she stood back on her own feet. There was a tattooed muscular man with intelligent eyes, a bit too prominent, but a nice nose, and a haircut and mustache, as if he had stucked in the seventies. She felt a shiver penetrate her, probably through a mixture of adrenaline and cortisol in her veins.
- Have you calmed down already?
His eyes narrowed cheerfully in a rather pleasant way. He reached out awkwardly and touched her cheek for a moment, like a man not used to such gestures. She shuddered again. No, it's impossible, she thought despite her will, moving her gaze over the beautifully carved shoulders and strongly outlined hood muscles. It is impossible! She's on some tattooed gangster jumble.
- I ... yes, it's better. Only cold. It's because of stress. Excuse me.
- You shouldn't apologize to me, but we'll come to that. I will help you, you only have to ask.
- Again?!
- I let you go. Now I can take you home or leave you at the police station.
- Why did you help me?
- Bolton is looting in my area, and he disgust me. And I think if I take you back, your brother and your fiance will turn a blind eye to the shooting.
- Jon is not my fiancé!
- You are charmingly nervous for a non-fiancée and you have quickly guessed who it is about. - he snorted at that old-fashioned mustache. - He devotes a lot of effort to saving your shapely ass.
What the fuck are you doing, Lannister? You got so mad on your brain that you're flirting with seventeen? Snow will tear your balls and Stark will strangle you with his bare hands! he reminded himself.
- I don't have to ask if so. - she changed the subject. He raised an eyebrow and prepared for a grip, at least he would have a bit of primitive pleasure from that. - No no! Okay, please, take me home.
- Polite.
- You are horrible!
- I'm a gangster, what did you expect?
- Certainly not you here.
He sighed.
- And I expected everything but your mother, begging me for help.
- What are you talking about? - as if it decreased and completely lost her wit.
- What came to your mind? You had police protection.
- I was scared ... Ramsay ... he ... such protection would not help him.
- I saw that letter. A piece of crap and a well-measured challenge.
- It's not just a letter. - she suddenly started to cry. Desperately and hysterical. - Hhe ... sometimes ... don't let him touch me, never again, please! Or Petyr! Robb may not make it! Please, I will do what you want, just don't let him ...
I'm gonna do the necklace from his guts, Jaimie thought. He embraced her and rocked her like a child, and finally took her in his arms.
- You do not have to do anything. I promised Lady Catelyn that I would help you. I have a daughter, if Bolton touched her, I'd kill him. Littlefinger did something to you too? - she nodded.
- Excuse me. I dream about it at night. - she whispered sniffing her nose - You are different.
- Girl, I'm not fit for a knight in shining armor.
Rather contrary, he thought, if you could know, that my blood rising right now ... I'm not much better than him, I would like now ... he closed his eyelids.
- My brother is a knight. He may not be able to beat Bolton. I feel it. He's too straightforward.
- I know, baby. I understand.
At least I think so, he thought.
He put her down when he saw flashes of police lights. She didn't let go of his hand even for a moment until he offered to ride a motorcycle together. She cuddled to his back hesitantly, then firmly clung to his muscular body.
The policemen looked after them.
- Do you think he sleeps with her?
- I think there's a good chance he'll start, and then let Stranger look after this poor son of a bitch.