Hey, all! Sorry about the wait on the update. School is really just killing me. Thanks for all the reviews! They're my main reason I continue coming back.
Just an fyi for you guys, this is NOT going to be book or tv accurate. I am playing with these characters and anything/everything is fair game for me to change. This includes the Kingsguard, Castlerly Rock, all the characters, etc.
Enjoy! - LadyF
Merilyn was arms deep in blood and gore.
There weren't many casualties from the skirmish, but there were a few bad injuries that needed a lot of attention. She looked down at her current patient, a young squire whose fingers had been ripped and broken and steeled her mind again.
"You'll have to hold him down. This will be painful."
The boy looked at her in terror and Jarent nodded his head, gripping the young boys shoulders more tightly.
"What's your name, Squire?" She asked, kindly.
"Boaden, my Lady," his breathing was harsh and his eyes were wide.
"Boaden, I have to remove these fingers. They can't heal properly unless I do and the infection could spread up your arm and then the Maester Healer would have to take that off. Do you understand?" Her voice was calm and clear.
The boy nodded, even though she doubted he really understood. She took the Court Healer's saw and tied off his hand. She had only done this once before, when the stable boy's foot developed the illness and her mother and Grand Maester had both been there.
She took a deep breath; "Tell me about your home, Boaden."
"What, my Lady?" His face was deathly pale.
"Your home, where you are from. Tell me about your family."
"I'm from Castlerly Rock, my Lady. I was raised on the cliffs with my family. My father has always worked for the Lannisters…" he continued on.
She waited until he was distracted as he could be, and then she brought down the saw, easily cutting through the remaining skin. The blood that had been there spurted out in rhythm with the boy's screaming. His back arched in pain and Jarent was forced to hold even more tightly.
Merilyn wrapped the cloth methodically, knowing the bleeding would stop soon. The boy had fainted. She thanked the gods silently; knowing the pain would be easier when he awoke. Jarent laid the boy on the wagon, with several of her other patients.
She stood shakily and looked around.
Most of the encampment was cleared and men were starting to get onto their horses. Maybe it had been hours, but she had no real concept of how long it had been. It was near pitch black now. Only the lit torches shone any light on the darkness, for even the moon was gone.
"My Lady Lannister?" Jarent looked to her, "That was the last of them, my lady. You are done."
She nodded her understanding, not bothering to look at him. She was numb now. Only one of their men had died. She should feel happy, but all she knew was she didn't.
A cold sensation in her hand startled her to look down in surprise, "Luna!"
The direwolf was covered in blood. Merilyn knelt down and ran a hand over her beloved pet; cautiously hoping none of the blood was Luna's. It didn't seem to be.
"Where have you been?" She whispered, hugging the direwolf close.
"She's been chasing crows away from the grounds and stalking the outskirts of the encampment. If anything, she's probably the one the Wildlings are afraid of." His teasing tone was a comfort to her and she turned and saw Jaime leading his horse towards them. Her stomach did an odd flip when she saw him, dirt and blood covered, but still with his odd half-smirk on his face.
"Are we leaving now?" She looked up hopefully.
He nodded, "come here."
She walked over and he lifted her up onto the horse, getting up behind her. He reached in front of her, his hand brushing against her waist and she felt that odd swooping sensation again. She tensed against him and she could've sworn she heard him laugh.
She had fallen asleep, her head knocking against his shoulder softly. They were still riding long after they had left the blood-soaked ground of their original camping ground. Willas had obviously taken the Court father than Jaime had instructed, but he couldn't fault the man. The attack had been extremely startling. Lord Stark was extremely careful about Wildlings and hardly let one or two of them past Winterfell under his watch. Yet, an entire group, close to fifty of them had attacked in a planned assault.
Jaime could no longer feel the arm that was supporting the girl. She was leaning back against his shoulder, and to keep her from falling, he had wrapped his arm about her. Every now and then he would hear a soft murmuring from her as if she was speaking to someone.
The men rode mostly in silence, the same silence reflected by their surroundings. Hardly anything moved around them, beyond the leaves they disturbed. The men had nothing to say and the animals of the night even less. The night was cool and dark. No stars lit the sky and the moon wasn't to be found. In Northern superstition, it meant the old gods had abandoned the land for the night. He briefly wondered if the girl who felt like lead in front of him believed in the old gods.
Light began to illuminate the front of the horses and Jaime saw Willas waiting to meet them, with a campsite sprawled out behind him. Jaime signaled for his men to continue on to their beds and reined his horse to a stop in front of his friend.
"You went a good ways," he commented looking over the encampment.
Willas gave a slight bow, "I thought it best to go as far as possible. All are safe. The King wishes to speak with you immediately though."
"Something I greatly look forward to. Sentries?"
"All posted. We'll be upon Castlerly Rock very soon, my Lord."
Jaime paused and looked down at Willas, "I am aware. You felt the need to point that out because?"
Willas shuffled his feet, "I would request a post there, with you, my Lord."
"I'll take to Jarent about it. He would be losing a valuable man. What brought this on?"
"I tire of the life in Court. My father served your father and I wish to do the same as he."
Jaime nodded, "it will be considered. Go rest now. We'll discuss this more on the morrow."
Jaime had known the girl had awoken when he had first spoken to Willas, but she had, thankfully, pretended to stay asleep and let him talk without interruption to his man. As Jaime urged the horse forward, she sat up more and he felt the return of blood to his arm with great relief.
"I'm sorry to have fallen –."
"It's to be expected," he cut her off, "You have no need to apologize."
He stopped outside a tent with his colours, and dismounted, pulling her down with him.
His hands easily felt her body through the ripped dress and he repressed the onslaught of desire. He set her down, his hand grazing her ribs and she flinched.
"Are you hurt?" He asked, touching her ribs again and seeing the same reaction, "You should've said something!"
She shook her head, eyes wide, "it's nothing, just from a kick. It'll be better by morning."
He growled low in his throat. He thought he had gotten into the tent fast enough, after hearing her screams. The Wildlings had descended upon them faster though.
He'd often played the good knight, rescuing helpless women from the hands of rapists and killers, but seeing someone he knew, someone he owned, someone he had vowed to protect in the hands of another man had enraged him like he had never been before.
He looked down at her face, bruised on one side and trying to earnestly convince him that she was fine, and sighed, "go into the tent and sleep. I will be back soon."
She hesitated then he saw it in a brief moment. But then she nodded and turned to the tent, reaching for the opening. Her fingers shook slightly and Jaime cursed himself in his head. He reached the tent flap first and walked inside first glancing around, satisfying that there was no one there. He had to remind himself again that she was a young girl who had been attacked, and she had to save herself. He had let it happen. He stifled the wave of guilt.
"You think I'm silly, don't you?" She whispered, thinking he must've been angry at her fear.
He shook his head, "This was your first time seeing bloodshed of men, wasn't it?"
"Yes," it came out in a soft whisper, "Robb would go on raids. He said it was something I never needed to see, something that he could never forget," she looked up at him then, "you were so calm."
"I'm scores older than you. I did this for years upon years, fighting for survival, for the Crown. But I'm never really calm. For your first time, you impressed quite a few people. I didn't know they taught Northern women to wield axes."
She looked down at the floor and he heard a sniffle. Gods. She was crying. He really was a fool sometimes. Cersei didn't cry. He rolled his eyes at himself. That thought wasn't helpful in the slightest. This girl had far surpassed whatever She looked back up, her eyes dry.
"It was too easy. I keep thinking about it. Shouldn't it be harder to kill someone?"
How could he explain differently? She was right. It should be harder.
"He would've killed you without thought. And it wouldn't have been quick or painless. Don't think about it anymore."
He turned back to the entrance, "Get to sleep. We'll only have a few hours before sunrise."
He didn't let himself look back at her as he left.