Author's Note: Here's the next chapter. Quick disclaimer on the song lyrics in this chapter. The song is the "Rains of Castamere" and the lyrics are by George R. R. Martin. I thought it would be fitting to use the song in this chapter. Enjoy!

Jaime never knew such pain existed as this. Even days later after they had seared his stump with a torch, he still felt as if his entire arm were on fire from his hand to his shoulder. The hand that was no longer there still felt as if his fingers were burning over an open flame, raw and bleeding in their grotesque, mangled fashion. As he tried to sleep at night on the cold, hard ground he was haunted by that vision of the sword separating him from everything that made him a man. His sword hand. They had cut off the one thing that made him the soldier her was. The fearsome fighter. Now he was nothing.

Due to the blood loss and pain, he could no longer sit atop a horse by himself so they tied him to the wench. It was her responsibility to wash and clean him when he pissed himself or vomited all over her. He was so famished of thirst he begged them for wine and they thrust a goblet into his hands. After taking a quick swallow he promptly spat the acrid taste out of his mouth. The men started laughing at him as if he was the funniest sight they had ever laid eyes on.

"Don't like it, Kingslayer?" the noseless one asked him. "It's horse piss!"

He had been so thirsty though that he went ahead drank down the whole goblet before promptly throwing it back up while they all laughed. He was beginning to understand how Tyrion must have felt his whole life while people laughed at him for a deformity he could not control. Brienne had been assigned to clean up that mess as well from his beard and clothes, but she did it without complaint.

He had barely seen Amarah since they cut off his hand days before. He knew she was still there but Hoat was keeping his hands on that prize. At night, Jaime and Brienne were lashed together to a tree or on the hard ground while the soldiers took turns kicking the one they thought made the most noise. For days and nights this went on. Four days and nights of unbearable pain and equally unbearable humiliation. On the fifth night Jaime was too weak to care anymore. He didn't want to go on. As he looked at the stars twinkling overhead like shining jewels, he thought it the most beautiful night he had ever seen. A fitting night to die under the stars.

The hazy mist of death that surrounded him was swept away by her voice. "Kingslayer, what in the seven hells are you doing?"

Jaime looked up into Amarah's beautiful, clear gray eyes. He had never seen such a welcome sight. If her feisty expression was any indication, Hoat must have refrained from raping her. She looked down at him now with anger and disappointment in her gaze. He could understand the anger, but the disappointment confused him.

"Escape your captor princess?" he asked her in a slurred voice as if he were drunk.

"Hardly" she answered before he caught sight of Noseless behind her. The ugly man gave her a hard shove till she fell down next to him landing on all fours. Despite the less than dignified position, she maintained her serene expression as she turned over for them to tie her to Jaime and Brienne's tree. Once the brutes were satisfied that they had made the prisoners as uncomfortable as possible, they left, and she turned to him once again.

"I told that goat if he made me sleep next to him one more night I would bite off the closest part of his anatomy I could find. I suppose that it was not a great inducement to make me sleep by him anymore."

Jaime gave a wan smile at her spirit. "That sounds like you, Princess."

"You never answered my question" she said in a voice that reflected more concern now than irritation. "What are you doing?"

"Dying of course" he answered flippantly.

He didn't look back to see her reaction to that statement. She was silent for a few moments before speaking again. "I've called you many things, Jaime Lannister, but a coward was never one of them."

He did glance at her then, and he felt shamed by what he saw reflected in her eyes. No, he had never been called coward before. Not when the city was taken and Aerys commanded all in it to be burned to the ground. He hadn't been a coward then. But what did he have left to live for now? Without his hand, he was only the shell of the man he had been before. Others might have laughed and sneered at him behind his back, but he had the satisfaction of knowing he could cut them all down in a flash if he so chose. Now with his hand separated from his arm and hanging about his neck in a mocking reminder of what the goat had done, he didn't even have that satisfaction.

"What do I have to live for, Princess?" he asked with a self-pitying laugh.

"Revenge." She spoke the word in a harsh, urgent whisper recapturing his attention once again. "What do you think motivates me to make it out of this mess alive? The thought of ripping out that goat's throat and feeding it back to him. Sometimes anger is all you need to endure. The promise of retribution. Don't let them break your spirit."

He turned his weak gaze on her then, really making the effort to look closely this time. She still had anger in her eyes, but they were shadowed by fear and hurt as well. For a moment he forgot about himself and wondered what they had done to her. He hadn't heard her screams so he doubted she would have been raped, but there were other things they could do to her that wouldn't leave visible scars. Just wound her where only she knew the hurt existed.

"Have they hurt you?" he asked almost dreading the answer. He liked Amarah. That was the simple fact. He never would have bothered saving her life if he didn't have some sort of regard for her. Jaime didn't like the thought of these bastards raping and beating her. She might have a strong spirit, but she was delicate physically. A strong blow that might only crack his or Brienne's ribs, could cripple this girl for life.

She gave him a bare glimmer of a smile at his concern. "Other than smacking me around a bit and groping me like a pack of animals, no. I am well enough. But we're not talking about me" she made sure to remind him. "Don't play the coward Jaime. You're still the same man you always were. A hand doesn't make or break you. You will survive this and you will have your revenge, for yourself and for your family."

Her words had begun to sink through his muddle of self-pity as he recognized the truth in them. He would survive this, if only to forge himself a new hand and use it to cut off the goat's head. Cersei and Tyrion's faces came to mind. The family he loved. He had survived the madness of Riverrun's darkness for them. He would endure this as well.

"You've made me see the light, Princess" he whispered to her softly before leaning his back against the tree, too weary to keep his eyes open any longer. As he drifted off into unconsciousness, he heard Amarah humming softly a tune he knew better than any other. It was a song that signified the greatness of the house Lannister. As he fell into a fitful sleep he sang the words inside his head, reminding his weary and broken soul of the importance that he survive. He sang the words over and over to himself like a chant.

And who are you, the proud lord said,
that I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
that's all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold or a coat of red,
a lion still has claws,
And mine are long and sharp, my lord,
as long and sharp as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
that lord of Castamere,
But now the rains weep o'er his hall,
with no one there to hear.
Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,
and not a soul to hear.

Yes Jaime thought to himself with a grim smile. I will have my revenge.

Four days later, they finally saw the towers of Harrenhall. The goat forced all three of his prisoners to walk the last mile before they reached the walls of the keep. He thought it would be amusing to make them walk in on foot. A rope was tied around Jaime's waist and the ends were attached to Brienne and Amarah's wrists while both women were forced to walk on either side of him. Jaime barely had enough strength to walk in between the two of them. Two nights before, he had saved Brienne from a brutal rape by his shout of "Sapphires!", alerting the goat that three of his soldiers were about to harm her. He had been rewarded for the warning by a brutal beating by the three men.

Amarah had not been allowed near him and Brienne after the night she talked him into holding on to his life for revenge. Despite her threats to the goat, he had kept her close to him after that. Jaime supposed he wanted to ensure that none of his men had the pleasure of forcing their attentions on that prime specimen of beauty before he had the opportunity first. Maybe he hoped that his efforts to preserve her virtue would be rewarded by Roose Bolton, the current lord of Harrenhall, by gifting the girl to him. Whatever had happened to Amarah in those four days, he saw no outward sign of excessive abuse like the large bruises and welts that adorned his and Brienne's faces. Her face was shadowed by a few dark bruises where they had hit her as she had told him four nights ago, but those marks would soon fade.

At one point, she moved to help him walk when he stumbled over the uneven ground but one of the mummers roughly yanked her away and backhanded her across the face for her efforts. She didn't approach him again after that, but he heard her chanting something under her breath as each step became harder and harder.

"Anger, revenge, retribution." She whispered the words like a solemn prayer. He wasn't certain if they were meant for him or only herself to hear, but they motivated him all the same to keep going.

Finally, they passed through the gates of the keep. As Jaime looked up, he could see the banner of Roose Bolton flying above the wall with two heads mounted on either side. The Bolton sigil was recognizable to all throughout the kingdom as the image of a flayed man. A promise of what Bolton would do to prisoners that displeased him. It made Jaime wonder what treatment they would receive now that they were being delivered into this lord's care, one whose loyalties were just as mystifying as the man himself.

As they entered the courtyard, Jaime saw the entirety of Lord Bolton's men had turned out to greet them. He noticed many of them giving appreciative glances towards Amarah who stood to his right. Despite the days of travel and captivity, she was still beautiful if not a bit battered. She returned their interested stares with only cold silence and looked right through them as if they were invisible. Once they realized that the princess would not be giving them the favor of her attention, they turned their stares on Jaime. After they noticed him there, different men began shouting their suggestions of how to deal with him. Some yelled for a high ransom to be paid and others for his head.

"He won't be of any use to us dead" Roose Bolton's authoritative tone cut through the myriad of voices. He was a pale, tall man, but his quiet manner was much more intimidating that of the slobbering goat. This man was dangerous. He approached the captive trio with a guarded look in his eye that hid most of his thoughts. Jaime had once thought that no one in the seven kingdoms hid their thoughts as well as Amarah Baratheon. But after seeing Lord Bolton's enigmatic expression, he admitted to himself that he might have been wrong in that respect.

Bolton's gaze first went to Amarah as he regarded her with a hint of a generous smile. "Welcome to my keep, Lady Amarah. My apologies for any ill treatment you might have suffered in the presence of these men."

"Remove these ropes your goat put on us, and I'll be inclined to accept that apology, my lord" she replied in an even tone. Jaime could see her rage simmering just beneath the surface but she was keeping it under control.

Bolton gave her an indulgent smile in return. "Of course, my lady. Remove their bonds!" he commanded his men before two soldiers stepped forward to rid Brienne and Amarah of the rough ropes about their wrists with a quick slash of the knife.

Once the women's hands were free, Bolton turned his attention to Jaime. "It seems you have lost a hand, my lord."

Jaime was too weak and feverish to play the game of politeness and courtesy. "I didn't loose it, Bolton. It's here about my neck as you see."

"This offends me" Bolton answered as if he almost meant it before snapping the cord that held Jaime's dead hand and threw it at the goat. "Take this away."

"I plan to thend it to hith Lord Father" Hoat assured him. "I will demand a hundred thouthand dragons, and each day Lord Lannithter delayth, we will cut off another part of Kingthlayer and thend it to him."

"It would not be wise to make an enemy of Tywin Lannister" Amarah spoke up in Jaime's defense at the goat's plan. "I doubt he would appreciate how his son has been maimed like this, much less if he were to be further harmed."

Bolton looked back at her with a speculative gaze, most likely trying to guess where her loyalties lay. She had Stark blood in her, but she had helped Jaime escape from her cousin's keeping which called her loyalty to the Stark cause into question. "I have no intention of making an enemy of Tywin Lannister" Lord Bolton assured her. "Your uncle's attack on King's Landing was thwarted after he was caught between Lord Tywin and the Imp's army. The Lannisters still hold King's Landing and Stannis has retreated with his tail between his legs."

"What of my sister?" Jaime interjected then wishing to hear news of Cersei. He saw Amarah give an annoyed shake of her head at his inquiry, but he didn't care. He needed to know Cersei was safe.

"She is well enough last I heard" came Bolton's reply, and Jaime gave an internal sigh of relief. "Your brother is safe as well but was disfigured from the battle. Lord Tywin plans to stay in the capital until his grandson, the king, is wed to the daughter of Highgarden."

"Margaery Tyrell?" Amarah questioned him. She looked intrigued by the news but not entirely surprised. Jaime realized that she must have shared an acquaintance with the lady since she was previously married to Renly Baratheon shortly before his death.

"Yes, my lady. The same. They are to be wed soon enough. But no more talk of that now. Walton!" he commanded one of the men in the large crowd. "Escort Lady Amarah and…" he broke off glancing at the wench with a confused look, not knowing her name.

"Lady Brienne, my lord" she informed him.

"Ah, yes, Lady Brienne. See them to their rooms and make them comfortable. Also, see Ser Jaime to the maester's chambers."

He turned to leave after issuing these orders, but Amarah stopped him with a raised voice. "Pardon me, my lord, but I would like to see Ser Jaime settled before I go to my chambers. Surely you wouldn't deny me such a simple request." She finished this last statement with the same seductive smile Jaime had seen her use on other men to get what she wanted. It appeared that Bolton was no less immune to her charms than any other man.

He hesitated for a moment before giving his reply. "Of course, I don't see the harm. See to it" he commanded the soldier Walton before leaving in a swirl of his fur trimmed cloak.

Jaime saw Amarah give Brienne a comforting squeeze to her one uninjured shoulder before murmuring something in her ear. After that, Brienne was led swiftly away while Amarah accompanied Jaime to the maester's chambers. He looked at her with a questioning gaze as they marched along the stone passageways that led to their destination. She returned his gaze with an innocent expression.

"Something the matter?"

"Why do you help me in this way?" he asked her in genuine confusion. "I thought you hated me."

She gave him a wry smile at that. "My opinion of you has risen to greater heights than ever before after the last several days in such horrid company. Besides, you saved my life" she added with a small shrug of her shoulders. "I'm only returning the favor. I want to be sure you're not on death's doorstep before I abandon you to the care of some unknown maester."

Jaime accepted her explanation with a nod of his head. It sounded reasonable enough, and he wasn't averse to having her in his company for a bit longer. Her comforting presence soothed his frazzled nerves a bit, and he felt absurdly safer with her near. As if she could somehow protect him from those that wished him harm.

They eventually came to the maester's chambers below the rookery of the castle and found an old gray-haired man there name Qyburn. He pulled off the linen surrounding Jaime's stump and gave it a grim look.

"Can you help him?" Amarah asked the old maester.

"Yes" he finally answered after inspecting Jaime's arm more closely. "However a few more days…" and he let his voice trail off leaving them to imagine what would have happened after the few more days in question.

"Well never mind that now" Amarah spoke briskly taking charge of the situation. "What do you plan to do?"

The old man thought for a moment before replying. "Well, the safest thing would be to take off the arm entirely."

"No!" Jaime answered before Amarah could say anything. "Just close the stump and sew the skin back together. I'll take my chances."

"But, my lord" the old man argued. "It would be much better if I took off the infected part of the arm. Maybe just up to your elbow…"

"No" Jaime repeated once again. "If you take off my arm then you might as well remove the other one to keep me from strangling you with it."

Amarah took the opportunity to intervene then before Jaime scared the old man into pissing himself. "Just do as he asks, Maester Qyburn. He's rather stubborn when he wants to be, so there's no hope of changing his mind."

"Very well" the man answered, but he didn't look happy with it. "I'll have to cut away the skin then pour boiling wine over it to take out most of the infection. It will be very painful. I can give you some milk of the poppy to help dull the pain."

"No thank you" Jaime replied. He was afraid if he went to sleep during this procedure, he would wake up without an arm.

Amarah gave him a long-suffering look at his unreasonable refusal. "Oh for the love of the seven, don't be such a fool. Take the milk to save yourself some pain. I'll stay the entire time to make sure that the maester leaves that arm of yours in tact" she informed him, correctly interpreting the reason for his stubbornness.

He looked at her with a wary expression without giving an answer right away. He wouldn't put it past her to go ahead and let the old man hack off his arm in repayment of some of the things he had done to her and those she loved in the past. To his surprise, she looked a bit hurt by his reluctance to trust her.

"I never break my word" she told him in a hard voice.

He took another few moments to think it over before finally agreeing. Amarah flashed him an encouraging smile and gave his one good hand a quick squeeze of comfort before going to fetch the milk. He was a bit taken aback by the change in her behavior. A month before, he couldn't have paid her enough gold to say one kind word to him, but here she was helping him when she didn't need to. Saying comforting things and letting him depend on her for what small amount of strength she could offer. It was most confusing to his fevered brain. Almost as if he was seeing an entirely different person.

When Amarah returned, the maester had him lie down on a small bed before they administered the milk. He drank down the liquid in a few gulps before feeling the drowsy effects take hold of him. The maester took out his tools to begin the procedure, and Amarah reached for his left hand. Somewhere through the fog surrounding his brain, he heard her telling him that he could squeeze her hand if the pain became too much to bear. That was the last thing he remembered before falling into a deep sleep.

Please review! If I get at least ten reviews on this chapter I will post the next one tomorrow. And trust me, the next chapter is GOOD. Things will get a little bit steamy, both literally and figuratively if you catch my drift:) If I don't get the ten reviews, that's okay. I will still post the next chapter, but it may not be as soon as tomorrow. Anyway, thanks so much for reading! I appreciate it!