Author's Note: Again, I can't say enough how much the support (reviews, follows, favorites) encourages me! Thank you so very much to everyone for taking the time to read my story and responding as well. I wanted to get this chapter out much earlier, but it was proving very difficult for me, hence the long wait. My apologies for that, but I've finally managed to get it to a place I'm happy with. So here it is, and I hope you all enjoy!
Jaime tightened the strap holding his horse's saddle with a decisive yank. Taking a moment to soothe the creature with the natural hand decorating his left wrist, he turned his watchful gaze to the girl standing a few paces away with her ever present lady knight.
Despite the fact that they had no definite plan of how extract Sansa Stark from Baelish's fortress, if she was indeed there, Amarah had decided that nothing else was to be gained by their presence in the Quiet Isle. So here they stood in the early light of dawn peeking over the grassy knoll by the sept, preparing for a journey that may very well prove to be a fruitless endeavor.
The fact that they had no proof of the young wolf's whereabouts, save Amarah's suspicions, made Jaime rather uneasy. For so much of his life he had been the Lannister who jumped headfirst into situations without thinking, simply because it had felt right in the moment to do so. He understood now that much of the misery in his life and the lives of others had been a direct result of that customary recklessness. Keeping his gaze locked on the dark haired princess before him, he hoped the rash decision to race to the aid of young Sansa would not prove a misery for her as well.
Jaime had briefly considered overruling her decision to ride directly to the keep where she suspected her cousin was being held, instead sending ahead some of his trusted riders who could confirm such suspicions before their entire party wasted valuable time by tracking down yet another hollow lead in what had seemed till now a never-ending search for the lost heir of Winterfell.
Amarah must have felt his scrutiny because she momentarily shifted her focus from the hulking woman by her side her to meet his gaze. Despite the distance between them, Jaime could detect a hint of uncertainty in her silver eyes, but it was underlain with a glint of steely determination. Jaime couldn't help the slight smile of admiration that tugged at the corners of his mouth in response to her strong willed nature. It was the reason he hadn't bothered trying to talk her into seeing things his way. Her mind was well made up and there would be no changing it. They would be on their way to the Eyrie within the hour, no matter where the journey might lead.
As if sensing his reluctant surrender, she gave Jaime an answering nod of reassurance before withdrawing her gaze. Though Amarah's attention had moved elsewhere, Jaime's remained riveted on her lovely face bathed in the early rays of golden sunlight. Her features were still pale and drawn from her recent illness, but those small defects weren't enough to detract from the beauty for which she was so famed throughout the kingdoms.
A little smirk graced Jaime's lips as he recalled the look on that face during their heated coupling by the stable, the same face that now appeared so cool and reserved in the light of day. Who would have ever thought that the cold Princess Baratheon hid such scorching heat behind those icy walls she had constructed so securely about herself to keep the rest of the world at bay? There was a time when Jaime would have never wagered she contained such a passionate nature. He had never been so damn pleased to be wrong. She had proven a complete revelation to him, both in bed and out of it.
Jaime had always enjoyed sex with his sister. He had been in love with her after all, and their rutting had always mirrored that fervent, consuming need. However, when he joined with Amarah he had felt something else in addition to those things. Fucking with her had been no less urgent than his couplings with Cersei, but there had been an unexpected feeling of peaceful contentment mixed in among those baser passions. It was an altogether different experience than fucking his sister but one Jaime suspected he would never tire of.
Even now, surrounded by his men and the pious brothers of the faith, he still longed sink inside her honey-sweet depths again and again till he slaked this overpowering need to consume her. However, it wasn't only that delectable body that kept him so intrigued. If it were, he wouldn't find himself so consumed by her in turn. It was the gentle soul that lurked beneath the exterior of haughty reserve that had somehow managed to entwine with his so thoroughly and completely, Jaime doubted he would ever escape her grasp. Not that he wished to.
He felt his pleased smile gradually slip into a frown at the lovesick notion and grudgingly pulled his gaze from the pleasing sight of Amarah Baratheon. Lusting after the princess might be an enjoyable pastime but hardly a productive one.
After exerting a valiant effort to marshal his thoughts in a less amorous direction, Jaime's horse was finally readied to make the trek through the Riverlands. He was about to inform the company that it was time to move out when a sight to the side of the sept caught his eye. The elder brother of the island, whom Amarah had finally met with that morning to explain the nature of their visit, strolled towards Jaime from across the way. Beside him trudged another man who stooped towards the ground as he shuffled along the pebbled walk. One of his legs appeared lame as it dragged slightly across the rocky surface, scattering a shallow spray of pebbles and mud in its wake.
The man's face was covered, but Jaime didn't need to see it to know his name. He was slightly bewildered how he could have failed to recognize the brute before. After so many years serving alongside Sandor Clegane in the capitol, Jaime should have recognized that massive frame anywhere, even with the additions of the religious garb and staggered limp.
Beneath the concealing cover of his cape, Jaime cautiously moved his hand to the smooth hilt of his sword as they came closer. He doubted the Hound would try anything now when there was nothing to be gained by such an attack, but he had learned to always be wary whenever a Clegane was near. They weren't a particularly trustworthy lot.
Jaime took care to conceal his wary regard beneath a smile of cocksure arrogance before addressing the approaching pair. "Did you wish to illicit a confession from me before we depart your shores, Brother?"
"Though I'm certain you've no limit of sins that could serve such a purpose, my lord, that is not my intent," the Elder Brother returned with a vaguely amused expression. "I am aware that Sandor's identity has already been discovered by the enterprising Lady Amarah, and, despite my advice to the contrary, it seems he is not content as he once was to remain here with us."
Jaime bestowed the hooded figure beside him with condescending appraisal. "Surely he doesn't wish to once again offer his services to the House Lannister which he so cowardly abandoned during the siege on the capital. Has he somehow managed to recover his manhood while digging in the dirt to make new homes for the island's corpses?"
"If you've somehow managed to regain yours, Kingslayer, there's hope for us all," Clegane returned in a voice that contained none of the vitriolic fury Jaime would have expected after such a pointed insult, displaying only thinly veiled mockery instead. As if defending himself against Jaime's barbs wasn't an action worth his time or effort.
After Clegane's stinging reply, Jaime was further disinclined than before to allow him to join their party. "While your offer to help is greatly appreciated, I think it would be best if you continued to serve your corpses rather than attempt to protect the living. At least if you fail the deceased, they'll be too dead to notice."
Jaime had meant to say more but he was cut off by the feel of a hand on his shoulder. He didn't need to look in order to know who had stemmed the flow his harsh words.
"Why do you wish to go with us?" Amarah addressed the dog in a gentle whisper, as if she were trying to coax a frightened animal into the open.
Instead of answering right away, Clegane reached up to hook the tips of his fingers along the edge of his grey cowl before pulling it away to reveal his half-burned head. He looked much the same as Jaime remembered. Though, he noticed a few pronounced lines around Clegane's steely eyes, signaling a feeling of world-weariness in his expression. As if he had seen far too many of life's injustices. Jaime had never remembered the Hound looking weary before, only angry.
"I couldn't help from trying to save the Little Bird when in the king's service," Clegane finally answered Amarah's question with a queer expression in those stony eyes that looked at odds with his menacing face. "Old habits are difficult to break."
Jaime could only assume the name he had used was a reference to the little Stark, though he failed to see the significance of it. Clegane's reasoning sounded sincere enough, but Jaime was left unmoved. Just before he could open his mouth to refuse him, Amarah pressed her hand into his shoulder once more to silence him. He shot her an exasperated look at her continued interference, and their stubborn gazes clashed together in a silent battle of wills. When he saw she had no intention of seeing reason, Jaime ceded control of the conversation to her with a frustrated roll of his eyes. The sound of an impatient snort was her only response to his annoyance.
"It appears Ser Jaime has no wish for you to join our company," she finally addressed the man who had been standing in silence as the two of them had wordlessly debated his usefulness. "But perhaps you can change his mind by proving your worth?"
Both men regarded her with matching expressions of curious skepticism at her unexpected suggestion, but Sandor was the one who spoke. "If you wish me to kill someone as a demonstration of my worth, we'll have to travel back across the mudflats to the mainland in order to find anyone suitable enough for that purpose."
"No, no," Amarah quickly waved off his cold blooded suggestion. "I had more in mind a demonstration of your skill as a knight, not precisely your ability to slaughter others. A show of restraint would be more convincing to your cause than yet another mindless killing."
Sandor's one brow drew downward towards the center of his forehead as he pondered her words. "Who should I demonstrate this ability against?" he questioned in a deep throated rasp. "Kingslayer here? Much good that would do. Two cripples fighting one another."
"Jaime Lannister is one of the finest warriors in the seven kingdoms, one-handed or otherwise," Amarah quickly spoke up in his defense.
Though Jaime made certain to keep his expression of careless boredom firmly in place, he felt a pleasant sensation of warmth begin to bloom in the center of his chest at Amarah's emphasis of his true name, a welcome contrast to the mocking title which had followed him so relentlessly over the last eighteen years. He also appreciated her defense of his skills in battle, even if it wasn't so well deserved as she thought. His sparring with Ilyn Payne had helped to improve his lost skill to some extent, but he was still farther than he would have liked from being the warrior he once was.
Heedless of the affect her words had on the lover by her side, Amarah carried on speaking. "You would do well not to underestimate him. As, I also suspect, we would do well not to underestimate the disgraced knight with a lame leg. A bit of sparring would be good for the both of you, I think. Of course, if the Brother would permit it that is."
If she had bothered to glance in Jaime's direction after that suggestion, she would have understood with perfect clarity his immense dislike of that plan. Jaime didn't particularly fancy the notion of being struck down by a dog, but it appeared he wouldn't even have the chance to reject her plan. She obviously assumed he would fall right in step with her decision for the Hound and the Kinglsayer to pummel each other in a bout of swordplay in order to prove the worth of the other.
Instead of asking permission of the man she had offered up as a sacrifice by combat, Amarah looked towards the Elder Brother with a deceptively innocent smile that didn't have Jaime fooled in the slightest. She knew exactly what she was about, and it seemed the Brother was not averse to being manipulated into agreeing with her ludicrous proposition.
"I've no objection, Lady Amarah, as long as both knights agree to stop short of spilling the other's blood. We'd prefer the death on this island to only come about by natural means, not brought on the end of a bloodied sword."
Amarah gave him a generous smile of appreciation at the readily voiced agreement. "That's settled then," she pronounced with a satisfied expression, as if she had suddenly discovered the secret to bringing about peace to the warring kingdoms.
"I'll need a sword," the Hound reminded her with a hint of impatience coloring his tone. He didn't sound any more pleased than Jaime at this proposed duel, but neither did he sound uncertain, simply resigned. Much as Jaime himself was.
Amarah motioned Jaime's squire Peck towards her, and the skinny lad wasted no time in complying with the silent order. "Peck, attend to your master and have someone see to locating a sword for his opponent."
Peck gave a jerky nod before trotting off again to locate Jaime's shield. It was a cumbersome, awkward thing to strap onto his golden hand, but Jaime preferred the protection over the discomfort. Watching his eager, young squire run about to do Amarah's bidding, Jaime grasped her elbow and forced her closer so he could bend his head to her ear before speaking in the lowest of tones.
"Is this your way of punishing me for my refusal to dismiss Payne from the company?" he hissed in an accusing whisper.
During their journey to the isle, when Amarah had first discovered Ilyn Payne among the men, she had furiously demanded he be sent away for the part he played in her uncle's death, but Jaime had refused to bow to her wishes. Payne was both brutal and unrelenting, two traits necessary in an instructor who could assist Jaime in rebuilding his skills as a knight. The fact that Payne was also mute meant Jaime needed have no fear that the executioner would discuss him or his secrets with others. He simply couldn't afford to send the man away, and he told Amarah as much. Though she stubbornly refused to see his reasoning on the subject at first, her anger had gradually faded, but Jaime knew she still resented the man's presence. Now he wondered if subjecting him to possible humiliation at the hands of Sandor Clegane might be her way of evening the score between them.
However, from the hurt look in her eyes the moment he voiced the thought, Jaime knew he had been mistaken in that respect. "Of course not!" she responded instantly. "I simply think you are far more capable than you have allowed yourself to believe. Fighting Clegane will prove two things. First, it will show if Sandor Clegane is still the murdering, ruthless brute he once was. If so, we will certainly not allow him to join us as I don't greatly anticipate the thought of being murdered in cold blood at the whim of a mad dog. But more importantly, it will also help prove the fact that you are the same knight you always were. You're not a cripple, Jaime Lannister. You are a knight of the kingsguard, and you should regard yourself as such."
Once his mind had finally absorbed the meaning behind her words, Jaime questioned her in a voice that reflected his amazement at her unwavering belief in his abilities that she had yet to witness first-hand. "Why do you have such confidence in me?"
"Because you deserve it," she answered in a clear, steady voice that testified to her absolute faith.
Jaime knew in that instant he couldn't fail such steadfast loyalty. He would prove to her and to himself that he was worthy of the trust she chose to bestow on him. "Let us hope you are right then, Princess," he replied in a gentle whisper before dropping a brief kiss on the tip of her nose.
Amarah rewarded his gesture with an equally tender kiss to his cheek before she withdrew to whisper something to Sandor Clegane as he was testing the weight of the sword one of the men had placed in his hand. Jaime couldn't make out what she had said but whatever it was proved amusing enough to garner even the smallest smile from the normally serious Hound. Amarah quickly moved to the side then with Brienne and the bastard Gendry who both watched the proceedings with profound interest.
After Peck had fitted him with the golden shield, Jaime drew the sword from his scabbard before planting both feet firmly in the grass and eyeing Clegane with a measuring glance. Doubtlessly the other knight would exploit his weakness, so Jaime would have to take advantage of his as well, and he knew exactly where to start.
"Shall we?" Jaime asked in a voice tinged with the slightest hint of amusement to hide the uncertainty he battled within.
As his reply, Clegane started towards him without warning and Jaime barely had time enough to lift his shield to ward off the powerful blow. As Clegane's sword made contact with the shield supported by his golden hand, Jaime felt the effects of it reverberate through his whole frame, though it wasn't enough to knock him to the ground. Jaime recalled then that Clegane had always preferred more brute force over style.
Shoving the sword away with a powerful thrust of his shield, Jaime began circling as his gaze quickly darted to various places he might attack first. Clegane swung at Jaime again, but Jaime was fast enough to dart out of the way this time before rounding and sending his sword bearing down on Clegane's as the two met in a clash of steel. Clegane pulled back once more, and the swords sang as the steel blades retreated then met once more in a harsh clang.
With the sound of the swords meeting each other in a familiar cadence that he had missed for far too long, Jaime's blood began to run high. The lost hand was forgotten now. There was only this, the clash of swords upon one another and the need to taste victory once more.
Clegane's blows were powerful, but he was slow on his feet, a condition due to the lameness in his leg. Jaime had to find a way to get close enough to capitalize on that weakness. Dodging another blow, Jaime heard the whiz of a sword passing within a hair's breath of his ear. As Clegane prepared to draw back and attack once more Jaime jerked his sword upwards, knocking against Clegane's in mid air and dislodging it the slightest bit from the larger man's grasp.
As Clegane fought to regain his grip on the sword, Jaime took advantage of the momentary distraction to step close enough to slap the flat of his sword against the back of Clegane's injured thigh. A howl of pain met the unforgiving blow, and Clegane dropped to his knees while still managing to maintain a tight grip on his sword. Jaime raised his weapon to sweep Clegane's from his grasp, but the other man surprised him by rolling aside just as the sword came down, connecting with soft earth instead of forged steel.
As Jaime quickly tried to dislodge the point of his sword from the ground at his feet, he clenched his jaw in anticipation of the thrust of Clegane's sword against his exposed left side, but was surprised once more when it didn't come. After he had finally managed to return his sword to a position of attack, Jaime sent Clegane a curious glance at his failure to take advantage of his momentary weakness.
The Hound merely shook his head in response to Jaime's wordless question before charging at him again with unexpected speed in one who was partially lame. Jaime raised his sword to meet the other, and once again they engaged in a series of parries and thrusts as they danced around one another, looking for the first opportunity to strike out at a vulnerable point. Jaime found his first.
Clegane had just landed another staggering blow to his shield when Jaime's sharp gaze caught sight of the smallest tremble in the large man's leg. It wobbled only the slightest bit in the soft grass, but it was enough. Knocking the blade away from him once again, Jaime advanced with his sword swinging, meeting a point on the outside edge of Clegane's shield that would unbalance him enough for Jaime to land another blow on his weak side.
As he had predicted, Clegane stumbled just enough for Jaime to strike. However, this time, instead of attacking him directly in his most vulnerable point, Jaime struck Clegane's hip, sending him tipping sideways towards the earth. Clegane waved his sword hand in an attempt to regain his balance, but Jaime answered his efforts to stay upright by striking out at the flailing sword in the Hound's slackened grasp. His ears were met by the welcome sound of the steel weapon flying from Clegane's grip and onto the ground a few paces away.
Left standing there with only his borrowed shield and no sword, Clegane gave Jaime a look that was equal parts resigned and bitter. "It seems I'm sorely out of practice. Congratulations on your victory, Kingslayer," he mumbled before dropping the shield in disgust and pivoting on his heel to walk away.
Jaime was tempted to let him retreat but couldn't allow him to walk away without knowing why he hadn't finished him off when given the chance. "You could have struck me down," he called out, stopping Clegane in his tracks. "Why didn't you?"
Clegane rounded back, but, instead of Jaime, his gaze fell on Amarah who had come to stand by Jaime's side as Peck was removing the wooden shield from his wrist. "Because your lady told me if I harmed you she would do more damage to my face than my brother ever could." Jaime thought he could detect the very slightest hint of amusement in the disgraced knight's voice, but he couldn't be sure. "I believed her," Clegane finally finished.
Jaime turned from the Hound to assess the silent figure by his side. From the faintly guilty look in her eyes, Jaime suspected she hadn't meant him to discover her threat to Clegane. "I thought you trusted me to beat him?" he questioned her.
"Of course I trusted you. It was him I didn't trust," she defended herself before shooing his squire away. Once Peck was gone, Amarah looked back at Jaime with a defiant look that he was secretly becoming rather fond of. Not that he would admit as much to her.
Jaime opened his mouth to respond but was distracted by the sight of Clegane limping away. "If you want to join us, Clegane, you'll have to saddle a horse for yourself. Don't expect one of my men to be doing it for you."
Sandor looked back at Jaime with an inscrutable expression, but nodded his head in agreement. "My horse is in the stable," he informed them before heading off again in the direction he had been walking before Jaime stopped him.
"What are the chances he murders us in our beds?" This question came from Brienne who had joined Amarah by Jaime's side.
Jaime sent the lady knight a commiserating look at her prudent question. "Enough for you to keep as close a guard as possible on your lady at all times," he answered her with a meaningful look.
"Even when I'm in my bed?" Amarah asked him with a mischievous twinkle in those grey eyes. She seemed significantly less concerned by the presence of Sandor Clegane than Jaime and Brienne
Jaime opened his mouth to reply but was taken aback by the amused smile that turned up the ends of Brienne's mouth in response to Amarah's question. He tried to recall if he had ever seen the woman smile but couldn't recall any such occasion. His surprise was enough to render him speechless, and Brienne took advantage of his state to answer the question in his stead.
"I suppose Lannister can be the one guarding you as closely as possible then, my lady," Brienne answered with that baffling amusement still present in those eyes as blue as the sapphire waters of her home.
With those words, the maid of Tarth bowed quickly to excuse herself before Jaime turned to Amarah with a baffled expression. "Since when did that wench learn to smile?"
Amarah let out a burst of unladylike laughter at his confused expression. "She's not as disagreeable and dull as you make her out to be, Jaime," she managed to defend her knight between amused giggles.
"If you insist," Jaime replied, though he was far from convinced. "She's brave though, and loyal. Two traits we'll need more than ever in the coming days. Perchance, have you managed to think of a plan that would allow us to even get a look inside the Eyrie to discover if your cousin is there as you suspect?"
Amarah's mirth was quickly erased by Jaime's reminder of her cousin's plight. "I've thought of a plan that might work," she answered, but her brow was creased by worried little lines that didn't do much to erase Jaime's doubt as to the wisdom of this plan to somehow infiltrate the impenetrable fortress.
"Let us hope, Princess, for all of our sakes, that the gods are feeling more generous towards you at present."
Amarah gave him a humorless smile in return. "If this is your idea of being an encouragement, you're dreadful at it."
"I'm just trying to prepare you for the worst, Princess," Jaime answered in a more sympathetic voice.
Amarah looked at the ground with a defeated look that made Jaime regret his disheartening words. "It's something I should be used to by now, I suppose."
"No need to despair so soon," Jaime drew her gaze to his once more by tilting her chin upwards with his golden hand. "We might even succeed."
Amarah returned his encouraging smile with a sad one of her own. "We have to succeed, Jaime. We must."
We must. Her haunted words echoed in Jaime's mind some time later, even after they had left the isle and began their way towards the Mountains of the Moon where the Eyrie lay in protected seclusion. We will succeed, Princess, Jaime silently vowed as he rode along with the company. He had to fulfill that promise, for the princess and himself. He did not even wish to imagine what dire fate might befall them if they failed.
Thanks so much for reading! I had originally planned on something entirely different for this chapter, but then I had the idea of a swordfight between Jaime and Sandor and thought his joining the company would be a great reason to bring that scene about. Well, now that things are all laid in place for them to rescue Sansa, I'm off to do a ton of research about the Eyrie in order to write the next few chapters! Again, thank you for reading, and if you want to leave any comments or thoughts I would appreciate them more than words can say!
A/N purple sky always: I actually had considered including the other Baratheon bastard when they arrive at the Eyrie, but eventually decided against it because I have a lot of characters running around already and want to keep the story as streamlined as I possibly can in a universe populated with so many people. I appreciate your interest in the story though, and hope you enjoy all that is to come!