Author's Note: I apologize profusely for the long delay in posting this update. I took a little break from this story a couple of weeks ago to write a one-shot something else, so that's why it took longer than normal to post the next chapter. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it!
It smelled like death. As Amarah sat in the murky darkness, she tried to ignore the unpleasant odor that permeated every nook and cranny of her personal prison, but she couldn't escape it. She was surrounded with no chance of escape. Once again, she gave another pathetic attempt to free herself of the rough-hewn ropes bound tightly around her slender wrists, but the only thing she succeeded in accomplishing was digging the bonds even further into her raw, bleeding skin. The weeping blisters served as testament to her previous struggles to escape this hellish darkness. Though Amarah knew the pursuit of freedom to be a fruitless one, her mind refused to accept logic. It demanded escape, so she must obey.
She had lost count of the days since she had been separated from young Podrick and thrown into this small, crude shed where she had been bound hand and foot. As the men bound the ropes securely around her hands and ankles, she imagined she could see a spark of sympathy in their bleak expression, but if it was truly there, it mattered not. They had simply finished the task assigned to them before promptly abandoning her to the lonesome dark.
Before their departure, she had caught snatches of their conversation as they went about their task of rendering her incapable of escape. From what she could gather, these men were members of the outlaw band the Brotherhood Without Banners. Despite that small bit of information she had been able to glean, Amarah still had no notion why they should wish to hold her captive. When the men had left her, she had assumed that she would be called to see this leader of theirs that the dark-haired youth had mentioned, but she remained alone with barely a glimpse of another human being.
For days on end, she had been left to starve on the dirt floor of the little shed, only receiving the barest amount of water necessary in order to survive. Many times she had felt the overwhelming urge to weep long and loudly in the knowledge of her helplessness, but she refused to give these cruel creatures the satisfaction of breaking her. When she was tempted to abandon all hope, she recalled Jaime's promise once again and whispered it to herself to boost her spirits. She had to have faith that he would come. She had to cling to the one hope, or she would be lost.
As Amarah continued to sit in the shadowy gloom, the deafening silence was suddenly broken by the sound of the wooden door squeaking heavily on its hinges. She turned in the direction of the noise and squinted through the darkness to see who had joined her in this dreary prison. Amarah's eyes were weak from so many days without sunlight, but she could see enough to determine the visitor was not the same little man who had been assigned to bring her the daily ration of water. This figure was broader, more imposing than her usual companion. As he came closer, she recognized the brilliant blue gaze. The boy from the inn.
This was the first time she had laid eyes on him since he ordered her taken captive, and she wasn't inclined to feel too kindly towards the source of her misery. Instead of addressing him, she simply contented herself with glaring silent daggers in his direction while waiting for him to announce the purpose of his visit.
"M'lady" he acknowledged her with a curt bow of his head. She didn't return the greeting. "The men say you haven't spoken a word since joining our company" he continued, undaunted by her hostile silence. "Surely you must have some thoughts on your mind."
"I doubt you'd have any interest in hearing them" she finally spoke, her voice dry and scratchy from thirst.
He gave a flicker of a smile at her response before kneeling down to regard her more closely. "Perhaps you are right."
"Where is my squire?" she demanded of him then.
"We released him soon after securing you" the youth replied. "He wasn't important." This confession gave Amarah a small sense of relief. At least now she needn't worry for Pod's safety as well.
When it was clear he would say nothing else, Amarah spoke again. "Who are you? It seems only fair I should know the name of my captor when you clearly know so much of me already."
He seemed to consider her request for a few moments before finally giving in. "Ser Gendry of the Brotherhood, m'lady."
That name struck a chord of memory in Amarah's mind, and she had to ponder it for a few moments before finally making the connection. "Gendry Waters?" she questioned him sharply. "The blacksmith's apprentice?"
He stiffened a bit at her mention of his former occupation. "How do you know of me?"
"You don't know?" she questioned him in disbelief.
It was his turn to eye her with a skeptical gaze. "Know what?"
"You're the bastard son of King Robert Baratheon" she told him bluntly. Amarah had never seen the point in drawing out an explanation when one could cut right to the heart of a matter.
"The king" he repeated in a voice that betrayed his surprise. "I knew my mother worked in a tavern, but I just assumed..." he trailed off then, obviously lost in thought. Amarah could hardly believe the situation herself. After so many months searching for her family, she had finally managed to stumble onto a relation after all. Considering the circumstances though, it was hardly the family reunion she had hoped for.
After a few moments more of intense concentration, Gendrey's gaze snapped back to her with a startled look. "Then that means…" he failed to finish that thought as well.
Despite her weakened state, Amarah couldn't hide her amused reaction at his horrified expression. "Indeed it does, brother. Who did you think it was that paid for your apprenticeship with the blacksmith? My father could hardly be bothered to look after every bastard he produced, so your care fell to me. A fine thanks I've received for my generosity" she finished with a scowl, glancing down at her injured wrists.
He glanced in the direction of her gaze before giving a slight wince at the sight. "I didn't know it was you. I assumed it was just some nobleman trying to ease his guilt over a bastard son."
"Well, I'm no nobleman, but perhaps I was trying to ease my guilt" she conceded with a small shrug. "A short time after I arrived at the capital, I caught sight of you one day outside the keep. I remember asking my handmaid who the little boy was running through the streets, searching for scraps of food from the vendors. I suspected you were one of my father's bastards. You had the Baratheon look about you. You still do."
She broke off for a moment to look him over once again before returning to her story. "The maid told me about little Gendry Waters and his mother's death. How the owner of the tavern where you were born forced you to search out your own food while demanding free labor in exchange for putting a roof over your head. I was only a young girl at the time, but I recall loudly demanding that one of my father's men find a better place for you. I wouldn't relent until one of them finally agreed to the request. The next day I gave him all the money I had in the world, 10 golden dragons, to bring to the blacksmith in order to buy you a place as his apprentice. My conscience had been eased after that, and I considered the matter resolved. Aside from the allotment I set aside each year to pay the blacksmith for keeping you on, I never gave too much thought to my father's little bastard. There were so many of you after all."
He looked a bit uncertain how to respond after her confession. Finally he spoke once more. "So you pitied me."
"Yes" she replied honestly. "But pity or no, would you rather I had left you as you were?"
A small frown formed between his brows as he contemplated the answer to that question. "I suppose not. In the end though, it all would have ended the same. Once the money stopped, I was sent to join the band traveling to the wall. If not for the gold cloaks who attacked our party, I would be there now with the rest of the rapers and thieves."
"And you blame me somehow for your fate?" she question him, still confused as to the source of his anger towards her.
His face hardened once again at her question. "Not for my fate m'lady, for the fate of those you promised to protect."
"There's no need to call me, m'lady considering our relation to one another" she pointed out before addressing his unjust accusation. "And what promise might you be referring to?"
"The promise you made Lady Catelyn Stark to protect your family in the capital. When you fled King's Landing to save yourself, you abandoned them as well. Lady Arya –" but he caught himself suddenly, leaving the last thought unspoken.
Amarah waited for him to finish, but when he remained silent she took advantage of the opportunity to defend herself. "You know nothing of the inner workings of the king's court, so I will grant you forgiveness this once for your ignorance." She saw him open his mouth to argue the point but quickly continued on to cut off the protest. "If I had stayed, as you seem to think I should have done, it would have provided the queen with even more evidence to support the claim that I conspired with my family to take the throne from her son, Joffrey. Had I stayed, my head would be decorating the gates of the city along with my uncle, and Arya and Sansa would be jut as lost to the kingdoms as they are now. I tried to convince my uncle to leave the capital with me but he would not hear of it. He insisted on being honorable to the very end."
"Then you blame your uncle for their fates?" he questioned her doubtfully. Despite the mistrust in his eyes, Amarah noticed they had lost some of the hardened edge from before.
It pained her to lay the blame on Ned when she had loved him more than her own father, but the truth of the matter was clear. "Who else is to blame?" she asked him in a weary voice.
He said nothing else after that, and she found herself breaking the silence once again. "If you only came here to interrogate me, then I would say you've accomplished your purpose. And unless you plan to inflict some further form of torture on me, might I request to be left alone? Starving prisoners hardly tend to be in a talkative mood."
She did catch sight of a clear flash of guilt in his eyes then at her words, but he did not leave her as she requested. "I'm afraid I cannot" he replied. "Our leader demands you to be brought before her now. I was sent here to collect you."
"How do you propose I get there in my present position?" she asked bitterly, referencing her bound hands and feet.
Removing a small blade from his belt, Gendry quickly cut the bonds holding her feet and hands, instantly restoring blessed circulation to her limbs. He stood up then, gesturing for her to follow suit. Amarah tried pushing herself off the hard earth, but instantly fell back to the ground in a dusty heap when her weak body refused to cooperate. She considered raging against the ungracious brother who had put her in this pathetic condition when she felt him kneel down once again before wrapping his strong arms about her and lifting her into his arms, keeping her close to his broad chest as he left the small shack with her in tow.
She clung tightly to him as he carried her through the camp, staying alert to her surroundings. It was dusk now. The bright yellow sun had disappeared over the distant horizon, leaving a hazy, yellow glow in its wake. As the odd duo trooped through the camp, Amarah caught the stares of Gendry's fellow outlaws. She noticed that their looks could be interpreted as curious and sympathetic more than the accusatory hatred she had expected. She supposed it was only Gendry and his mysterious leader who seemed to think her devoid of any basic sense of honor.
After being hoisted along through the camp for several minutes, Amarah finally arrived at a large clearing through the cluster of trees. A large bonfire lit the surrounding space and the faces of those who gathered to judge her. Around the fire stood several somber looking men, all wearing the muted, forest colors of the Brotherhood. In the center of those men stood a mysterious hooded figure whose sole attention was fixed squarely on the her. Amarah found herself growing uncomfortable under such intense scrutiny, but she refused to show any sign that these men intimidated her.
"Put me down" she whispered in Gendry's ear once they had reached their destination.
He glanced at her skeptically, clearly doubtful that she could stand on her own, but complied with the quiet order. Once he placed her feet on the ground, Amarah felt the instant urge to crumple to the ground in exhaustion, but valiantly continued to stand on her own. She felt Gendry move directly behind her, supposedly a precaution in the case that she was unable to stay upright. She silently thanked the seven for his foresight.
Once she had gathered the strength necessary to address her captors, she licked her dry lips before opening her mouth to speak. "You have taken me captive against my will and brought accusations against me of betrayal and deceit. I would ask on what ground you base these claims?"
At her request, the hooded figure slowly reached up to remove the covering, revealing its face to Amarah's stunned gaze. She could hardly believe the sight before her. Slowly, Amarah felt all the blood drain from her face, leaving her as pale as a ghost. It couldn't be!
"Aunt?" she whispered barely loud enough for those around them to hear. The horrifying creature before her barely resembled the aunt she had loved so dearly for all her life. The face was similar, though marred by wicked looking scars and bruises, but it was the eyes that frightened Amarah most of all. They weren't her aunt's eyes. Gone were the warmth, kindness, and understanding Amarah had seen there all her life. Now those eyes were cold and lifeless. They looked like death.
The creature raised its hand then to pull together two flaps of skin at her throat. Amarah remembered the tale how Catelyn Stark had her throat slit after going mad once she saw Robb murdered. It was rather unsettling to Amarah to see the evidence of that account before her. Once the skin was pressed tightly together with a skeletal, bony hand, the creature addressed her.
Amarah had to strain to understand the words that came from the creature's mouth then. It sounded almost like a bullfrog's croak, broken and scratchy. "You are accused of treachery against the house Stark, Amarah Baratheon, and you shall hang for your crimes."
"What treachery?" Amarah demanded of the strange being before her. "I have fulfilled my promise to my lady aunt. I freed the Jaime Lannister and I still search for Sansa. How have I broken my vows?"
The creature was unmoved by Amarah's defense of her actions. "Your lies will not save you now. You've given your allegiance to the house Lannister, and abandoned all intention of returning my daughter to me."
"What proof do you have?" Amarah demanded.
The creature's eyes narrowed then as she approached Amarah. The eyes had taken on a sign of life now. They were filled with hatred. "The only proof I need. My daughter is still lost."
"Which is why I continue to search for her" Amarah continued to defend herself. "I never betrayed you, Aunt."
"No more of your lies" the creature spat at her before turning on her heel and marching away. "It's time to die."
Amarah could hardly process what was happening as two men moved forward to haul her to a nearby tree where a rope hung from the lowest branch, awaiting its next victim. Her. She barely registered the sound of Gendry's protests, but not much more could be heard above the roar of blood in her ears. So this was it felt like when one was about to die. Amarah wondered if, perhaps, this was how Uncle Ned felt just before Joffrey had stolen his head.
She was too weak to struggle at this point, and could only look on helplessly as another stranger fitted the noose about her neck. Amarah looked over to find Gendry being restrained by his fellow brothers to prevent him from reaching her side. At least she could take some comfort in the fact that her brother didn't hate her enough to wish her dead. Taking a deep breath, Amarah closed her eyes to wait the inevitable end. She had expected at least some tears at the time of her death, but her eyes were surprisingly dry. She hardly felt anything at all. Nothing by a numb sense of shock that overtook the rest of her senses.
Just as she felt the noose tighten about her neck in preparation to haul her upwards in the air, Amarah's ears were greeted by a most welcome sound. His voice.
"Unless you all intend to live very short lives, I would suggest you release the lady."
Amarah opened her eyes then and looked towards the man who had spoken. He addressed those around them but his gaze was focused solely on her. Those green eyes were just as intense and beautiful as she had remembered, and Amarah had never seen a more welcome sight.
"Jaime" she murmured his name with a small smile, despite their dire circumstances. "You found me."
So some fun stuff there:) If you haven't read the books, don't worry. I'll explain further what happened to Catelyn in the next chapter. I really enjoyed writing this chapter (even though it took me forever to finish it) so I hope it was worth the long wait. Please let me know what you think! I would so love getting to hear everyone's thoughts on the direction of the story, and kind reviews always motivate me to write faster:) As always, thanks so much for reading!