Well, fuck him anyway.
The girl plodded up the hill, feeling nothing but a listless indifference. Her body walked, breathed, performed all the basic functions, it was just infected with a dull torpor. She welcomed the lack of caring, about anything, as a relief from the hurt she knew would hit her soon enough.
Later, she would fall down that hole later. Maybe I can feel nothing forever. Gods be good.
The ridge where she had camped with Jaime the night before came into view, and with it a band of men and horses milling around, how many exactly she couldn't be bothered counting. The men were dismounted and appeared to be scanning for tracks. The girl had heard them and knew they were there, but so was Sooty. After only a brief falter, she heedlessly continued on.
The men didn't immediately notice her, but when they did they all stopped what they were doing and turned in her direction. They wore black and grey vests, chainmail, leather coats with fur-lined cloaks, and had various weapons and shields either on their person or slung over their saddles. Two of the horses had banners strapped to them, which fluttered red and black in the breeze. If they were surprised to see her, they didn't show it.
She walked up to them, pointed to the distant shape of Sooty beyond them in the grass. 'That's my horse.'
The men didn't reply, but looked wary. A couple drew their swords. Three of them stepped to the side and glanced behind the girl, then up along the ridge-line. The rest of the group formed a line across the girl's path, blocking her way to Sooty.
'There's no-one with me,' the girl said in a tired voice. She couldn't care less about these people. 'I'm not armed. I have nothing of value.' She stopped. Some of the men's faces looked vaguely familiar, but all she wanted to do was get to Sooty and help her, then leave here and go home. Whoever these men were, whatever they wanted with Jaime, it was no longer her concern. Jaime is no longer my concern.
'I just want to get to my horse,' she said, when no-one spoke.
One of the men stepped forward, drew a large knife from its sheath and held it relaxed by his side. His belt was also hung with a sword, and a strange pale object that flopped as he moved. A scar curved under his right eye, and a beard and moustache made his gaunt face look longer. His eyes though, were gimlet-sharp, they reminded her of a crow's eyes. The same bright curiosity. 'That your dead horse up there, girl?' he asked.
'She's not dead,' the girl stated.
The man raised his brows in an exaggerated look of disbelief as he approached. 'That right? Only, I seen a lot of dead horses in me life, an' from here, that one looks to be one of the deadest.'
'I have medicine, in my bag.' The girl couldn't give a fuck about playing his stupid games. 'Just let me treat her. I'm not here to give you trouble. I don't care what you or your men are doing.'
'You know what we're doing,' the man drawled, stopping in front of her and crossing his arms. The edge of the diamond-shaped knife was now level with the girl's neck.
'And I don't care.' She became aware that the three men who had been checking the surrounds had now come to stand behind her, and she was almost fully enclosed in a circle. A prickling unease invaded her lethargy, but she dismissed it.
'Where's your travellin' partner?' the scarred man asked.
'He's gone. That way,' she pointed back through the trees in the direction Jaime had taken.
The man regarded her with his shiny eyes a moment longer. 'You two have a fallin' out?'
'I made a mistake,' the girl said.
'Yes.' The man ran one finger down the side of his cheek, smiled in a way that made the girl take notice. 'You have.'
Up close, she got a whiff of something rotten, and she noticed with apprehension that the object dangling from the man's belt was a hand, or what remained of one. The last two fingers were just white bones held together with little scraps of tendon. The joints of both fleshless digits curled in as though trying to cling to something. Dried blood that looked not more than a day old smeared the thin rope that was tied around the stump end.
She began to get the creeping feeling that of all the mistakes she'd made this last week, not going with Jaime might turn out to be her biggest one.
'Who's hand is... is that?' she asked, hesitantly.
'A young man called Callem Cole. From the Hollow, I believe. Found him wanderin' around a ways back. He were very helpful,' the man said. 'He were ever so cooperative.'
'I know you,' the girl said. 'You were at the Inn.'
'So we was. I seen you there too,' the man, who she now recognised as the one called Locke, agreed. He nodded, went on in a conversational tone. 'If I recall, you was askin' for a long-handled axe capable of splitting metal. That's a big axe, for a little girl, ain't it?'
She didn't reply, beginning to regret ever opening her mouth.
Locke picked his teeth with a thumb nail, his eyes fixed beadily on the girl. 'I remembered you again later when we seen them villagers from RedHollow, headin' off all secretive-like, just after the North soldiers told 'em about the large reward on a certain somebody's head. They had with 'em a big ugly horse that they was usin' to track. Now I ain't a learned man,' he bowed his head with false modesty, 'but I got meself a good memory. And I remembered how I knew of a delivery girl once, had a big ol' horse like that. Followed her everywhere, like a dog, it did. Bad-tempered beast it was, too. So I says to meself, 'Weren't that the self-same girl I seen buyin' axes to break chains with at the Inn recently? What a coincidence.'
He stroked his beard in thought and paused, as if to see if the girl was enjoying their chat as much as he evidently was.
She kept her mouth pressed shut, so Locke continued on with his story. 'And then after a bit of snoopin' around, as luck would have it, we chanced apon the Cole boy. He were ever so cooperative, did I mention? A real talker. He tells us he seen a certain delivery girl and one Ser Jaime Lannister in the flesh , gettin' all cosied-up with one another. Lookin' like they was about to fuck like rabbits. Well, I says to meself, if that ain't happy news.'
The girl breathed evenly, deeply, tried not to let her rising tension show. He doesn't want you. He'll let you go. Don't panic.
Locke was clearly relishing having her as an audience. 'Here's the thing. Y'see, we had given the Kingslayer up for dead, when he gave us the slip by jumpin' off a bridge. Ain't seen hide nor hair of him, since. And so we'd gone and sent his lady-friend back to KingsLanding, after she sweet-talked us into thinkin' the Kingslayer would pay a reward for her. Roose said we had to keep the Lannisters and Tyrells on side. But just between you an' me,' he leaned in conspiratively to the girl, and she could again smell the decaying scent of the detached hand, 'I always had a twinge of regret 'bout that decision. Thought we maybe been a little bit hasty. So imagine me joy at finding out Jaime were not only still in the Riverlands, but he's gone and got himself another lady-friend.'
She held her voice steady. 'It's the Kingslayer you want, not me. And like I told you, he's already gone.'
'Yes. And ain't it a wonderful thing,' Locke said, 'that we have you to bring him back for us?' He motioned with his head and two men grabbed the girl's hands from behind, twisted them harshly together. She felt rough-braided rope loop and tighten around her wrists.
'The Kingslayer cares nothing for me,' she argued, her voice rising, her previous apathy now fully replaced with a dreadful foreboding. Locke had two finger to his lips, and a look on his face that told her he was going to enjoy what happened next. She felt such keen fear then that she thought she might piss herself, or vomit, or lose all control of her muscles.
'We shall see, won't we?' He lifted one finger, and the two men holding her arms pushed her down to a sitting position, while another two stepped forward and took hold of her legs. She kicked, fought to free herself, understanding too late her predicament. Her right boot was pulled off, and her ankle pinned to the hard flat ground. Her foot looked small and white against the dirt.
'Your fuck-friend is probably a good distance away by now,' Locke said, with the carving knife in one hand and a smile that made his black eyes glitter like gems in a cave. 'So do try and scream loudly.'
Author's note: A special thank you as always to my reviewers, especially LongRun and KittyD for multiple reviews, and Hermitt for being so nice.