Passing through the Neck had been the most uncomfortable experience Torrhen had ever endured. It was hot and the air seemed damp so Torrhen constantly felt sticky and sweaty, which made the passing much more uncomfortable. Their slow pace didn't help as the queen demanded they slow down whenever they gained the slightest bit of speed. Going as slow as they did hardly qualified as riding, Torrhen could walk faster than the speed they were travelling.
Often times when they stopped to camp for the night, Torrhen would take off riding when their tent was set up. Although she would never be gone for long or ride her horse too hard, it was a nice change of speed than the crawling pace that the queen had set. Also, her direwolf Icus appreciated the exercise at being able to run around without worrying about scaring the southerners they were travelling with. It was one of the few things that made Torrhen happy, seeing the little grey beast sprinting happily in the free space. It was almost exhausting how slow they were going. And since they weren't travelling at any regular speed, it was easier for bandits and thieves to spy on them for an attack.
Except any bandit from the Seven Kingdoms would know never to attack the king's court with as many guards as they did. And any woman would know not to stray from said guards that protect them and keep them safe as is their job description. Any woman except Torrhen, who was getting more reckless with straying from the court after they had made camp for the night. Sometimes she would let her horse rest and take a walk around their encampment instead.
Walking around with an armed escort had never been something had to deal with in the North, since naturally she had always had someone by her side. Even now since the discovery of the direwolf pups, Icus was always tailing her master. Torrhen felt safe with her little grey pup beside her.
Today, however, was different. Jory Cassel had offered to feed all the direwolf pups and let the Stark girls do as they wish without having to worry about the young beasts. As soon as they were released from caring for their wolves - which was honestly second nature to the Starks, and felt a bit strange not doing - Torrhen's younger sisters raced off. Sansa had gone to try and join the Queen and all her company for tea, commenting snobbishly on how both Arya and Torrhen should do that same. Arya shouted her reply before saying she was going to play with her friend that she'd made. Which left Torrhen alone. She refused to accompany Sansa in having tea with the queen. She was to marry her Grace's twin brother, and Torrhen was almost sure that Queen Cersei despised her. And Arya didn't need or want the company of her older sister.
Torrhen did the only thing she could think of; go for a walk.
It was rather relaxing to go for a walk by herself without ever having to worry about anything. While they are riding with the King's party, Torrhen always worries about her sisters, and her father, and the direwolves to see if they are scaring the Southerners. And she worries about her betrothal to Jaime Lannister. Although since leaving Winterfell she had had no more interactions with him since he was busy defending the king, Torrhen's stomach still churned whenever he looked her way. She didn't know how she was going to marry him and spend the rest of her natural life with him.
Walking away from camp was like walking away from all her worries, even if it was for an hour at most. The noise of the large King's Court faded as she wandered away. Instead, she filled her senses with the southern part of Westeros. Only ever having lived in the North, exclusively in Winterfell, being somewhere new was exciting for Torrhen. Going for walks or rides were often a way of exploring the country. She expected that she wouldn't get to do this again, not after she moves to Casterly Rock.
Torrhen didn't realize how far she had walked, almost out of sight of the encampment because she was too far into her thoughts. Not until she looked up and only spotted the banners and sigils of the king and smoke coming from fires. Deciding that she had walked for long enough, she turned and headed back to camp, hoping to eat something and then go to bed.
She hadn't walked five steps before she heard someone fast approaching. Alarmed, Torrhen whipped around to see who was approaching just in time to see a small group of men approach her with their small knives and daggers raised. By their ragged and dirty clothing Torrhen guessed that they were only smallfolk.
Her heart began to pound in her chest as she realized that she was alone and weaponless. Both her direwolf and the bow Robb had given her were back at camp. The men slowed down and began to creep toward her with twisted smiles on their faces. Fear began to rise in her throat, effectively making Torrhen unable to scream for help. It was as if she was stuck in the spot she stood, with no idea what to do. She couldn't run away from them, there was no way Torrhen could outrun three men in the thick northern dress she was wearing, the skirts were too heavy. The only sounds coming from Torrhen were short gasps of breath.
"You know liddol ladies like you shouldn't be out her alone," the one in the middle leered at her.
Disgust filled Torrhen as they all laughed at some inside jest that they all understood. Torrhen didn't want to understand whatever sick things were going through their minds, but she knew that it was at the expense of her and that their taunting wasn't going to last long. Soon, they'd start attacking.
"Maybe we should help her," another said, giving an open mouthed smile showing off dirty, and missing teeth.
The next few moments were a blur to Torrhen.
The men ran at Torrhen with their knives raised, and malicious smiles on their faces. Everything after that seemed to blur together, and some parts were missing all together. Dark, thick shapes ran toward and Torrhen reacted. She moved quickly, dodging someone, hitting another, taking a knife, then there was a blur of red, an eruption of pain in her side, and even more red. It was almost a cycle. Dodge, hit, slash, pain, doge, hit, slash, pain… At one point Torrhen was on the ground as someone kicked at her, but she managed to get ahold of his foot and stab the knife through it, distracting whoever it was with pain before slitting his throat when he doubled over to scream at his wounded foot.
She didn't comprehend what had happened until she was standing upright with a bloodied knife in one hand, and four bodies of dead men lying on the ground. Each was bleeding from the fatal wounds that Torrhen had inflicted on these men. The same blood covered her as well as she looked down at her dress to see some of it stained red. Her breath came out in ragged gasps as her heart continued to pound in her chest and the energy that fear had ignited in her faded.
"Gods," Torrhen whispered to herself as she realized that she had done this.
There were four men lying dead around her, and it was all because of Torrhen. She had taken the lives of these poor, malicious smallfolk into her own hands and ended them. She'd been forced to kill in self-defense because once again, Torrhen was stupid enough to walk around by herself without a guard. None of this wouldn't have happened if she had stayed close to the encampment, or at least taken one of her father's guards along with her as an escort. Torrhen wondered why she couldn't ever be as simple as Sansa and do as she is told. Studying the pale faces of the men around her, Torrhen couldn't help but think of the reasons why these men had decided to attack her in the first place.
"My lady?"
Torrhen looked away from the bodies, and up to who the voice belonged to. In front of her, was the golden lion himself, approaching her slowly with his sword drawn. His Kingsguard armour shined in the twilight as the last of the setting sun reflected off his white breast plate. He seemed slightly out of breath, and his forehead shined with sweat. Ser Jaime must've seen the small fight and had ran out to rescue her, Torrhen thought vaguely.
He continued to approach, stepping carelessly over the dead bodies of the men that had tried to hurt her. "Are you alright, my lady?" Ser Jaime asked again.
To Jaime, Torrhen seemed absent in herself. Or in shock at what she had just done. He'd had plenty of experience with young maidens who were unable of defending themselves, and even assisted in rescuing to poor ladies that had been subjected to it, but the Lady Torrhen was almost uncomfortably different.
Jaime had watched as the young she-wolf had wondered away from the encampment by herself. Not even her direwolf tailed her as it usually did. Although he would never admit it, Jaime was quite fascinated by the Stark's eldest daughter. With the northern dog absent, he took this as the perfect opportunity to talk to her again, as if was often seldom that was left completely alone. . Every time he had seen her, she'd been with a member of her house, or her sisters, or with her direwolf. Jaime wouldn't dare approach her with that northern beast around as if growled viciously whenever he tried to get close. He didn't even pretend to understand why the wretched creature hated him so much, and instead chose to steer clear of it.
So, he found it odd that the young Lady Stark was without her beloved pet and decided to follow her and provoke another reaction out of her. It was thoroughly satisfying to him to watch the eldest daughter - his betrothed - of the Noble Eddard Stark become flustered and almost unable to talk because of him. He'd seen the bandits approach before she did, and hesitated in going to attempt to rescue her.
If Jaime had turned around and walked back to camp, deciding not to see anything and hoping that those men would rape and kill her, then he'd be released from the marriage Baratheon and his Father had begrudgingly trapped him into, and he'd be free to stay as a member of a Kingsguard and be with Cersei. And Lord Stark would mourn the loss of his daughter and if the Gods were good, return to the grey wasteland he governs with the bones and his daughter and forget all about being Hand of the King. It was perfectly convenient, but as he watched the scene unfold before, Jaime Lannister was surprised at what he saw.
Even from the distance he was standing at, he could tell that the Stark girl was afraid. It was hard not the tell in her tense posture, but the second the bandits went running for her, it was as if she became another person. Jaime watched almost in awe as this small girl skillfully killed the four men who were intent on harming her. He watched as she dodged their blows gracefully, and kicked them down, and stole of their knives to cut them down with. The young Stark had already killed one of them before another had managed to hit her, and even them it didn't have nearly as much strength as he would've thought as she recovered quite quickly and plunged the knife into the eye of the man that had struck her.
His feet moved on their own accord as he started running toward her. Jaime didn't know why, it was quite clear that she had perfect control of the situation and could take care of herself. Something he made a mental note of. But he ran toward her anyway, and by the time he had arrived, the man who had tried to attack her was dead. And Torrhen was in some sort of absent state.
He put his sword away as he neared her. She stared at him, somehow seeing right through him, and feeling like she was reading his thoughts. Unwillingly, an image of the young Stark boy he had pushed from the tower flooded his mind. Stupidly worried that she would be able to see the thought, he trained his eyes on her, looking for any sign of injury. He studied her face, which had blood smeared on it, and the beginning of a bruise appearing on her cheek.
"Lady Torrhen?" Ser Jaime asked again, gently easing the knife out of her hand. "Are you hurt?"
"I didn't- I didn't mean to," she whispered, her grey eyes darting to the dead bodies.
"If you didn't, they would have done much worse to you," he said quietly, afraid of startling her and making her much more upset. Jaime wouldn't think he would be able to handle a hysterical girl, much preferring that she stayed this stoic until he returned her to her father.
"They just… attacked. I didn't know- I wasn't supposed to- I don't-."
The knife slipped out of her fingers, and Jaime carelessly tossed away. "It's alright now, you're safe. Let's get you back to camp."
With a hand on her back, Jaime gently nudged her in the direction of the encampment, and they slowly made their way back.
Jaime led her through the maze of tents, ordering the nearest soldier to find Lord Stark and tell him his daughter has been attacked. He kept on eye of her as they walked, looking for any sign that she'd been injured. So far, she walked normally, if not incredibly slow, but no sign of internal injury. Jaime suspected that she would just be bruised from whatever hits those men could land. All the people they came across stared in shock at Torrhen, who was covered in blood and was mutely escorted by Ser Jaime, himself through Stark's camp. Jaime could only imagine their shock as they walked together, refusing to acknowledge the whispers of rumors that would no doubt begin about this scene.
A panicked Septa rushed up to Torrhen and fussed over the Stark girl. She tugged at her clothes, and examined her face, and poked at the Stark girl enough to annoy Jaime who told her to be useful and run her a bath, and prepare fresh clothes. The Septa gave him a look of annoyance, and gave Torrhen a worried one before rushing off and shouting at maids. Still, his betrothed remained unnervingly silent, which sparked Jaime's curiosity knowing that most girls in her situation would be annoyingly hysterical.
There was a sound of a flurry of movement before the Lord Stark himself, as well as half a dozen of his soldiers appeared. As soon as the Lord Wolf spotted his daughter, he gave no sign of hesitation before rushing over toward her. Surprisingly to Jaime, he didn't even bother with a hateful glance in Jaime's direction.
"Torrhen!" Stark exclaimed, worry evident in his voice.
"Father," Stark's daughter said, the first coherent word she had said since Jaime found her.
The sight of her father must've broken Torrhen out of whatever trance she'd been in as she launched herself into her father's arms. Jaime watched for a moment as they embraced each other, noting how his bride-to-be relaxed in her father's arms. Before he could think about anything else, Jaime turned away and began to walk back to the king's side of the encampment, not looking forward to whatever berating he would receive for leaving the camp. He'd suspect his twin sister would be much less welcoming once he'd have to explain that he had to save his betrothed.
"Lannister," the cold voice of Ned Stark called, making Jaime stop and sigh in annoyance.
"Stark," Jaime replied in his usual bored tone.
"What happened? Why is my daughter covered in blood?" Stark demanded, his cold grey eyes silently judging Jaime as if it was his fault.
Refusing to acknowledge the fact that Jaime was starting to get annoyed at Stark's almost accusation, he decided not to give any straight answers, knowing it would annoy Lord Wolf the most.
"Why don't you ask her?" Jaime gestured to his intended with a hint of a smirk.
"I've no times for your games, Ser, just tell me what happened to Torrhen."
"What does it look like? Your daughter was attacked, what else is there to say?"
Jaime made the mistake of glancing at the young girl. Torrhen stood slightly behind her father, as if Lord Wolf was shielding his daughter from Jaime. But standing behind her father, Torrhen looked small, vulnerable, and slightly pathetic huddled under a large cloak that was draped over her shoulders. She looked more pathetic now than she had when she was in her trauma induced trance, and almost a completely different person than who he had watched kill four men at once. Still, her liquid grey eyes looked so sad and pitiful that Jaime almost felt sorry for the girl, if he cared enough.
"Tell me what happened, Lannister," Stark asked with more force, his grey eyes lighting up with anger. Jaime couldn't help the smirk that twitched on his face.
Before Jaime could reply, the Stark girl cut in. "I went for a walk by myself, but I wondered too far away from camp. A few bandits ambushed me, and Ser Jaime saved me."
Hiding his surprise at the lie his wife-to-be had just told, Jaime gave the Warden of the North the most smuggest smirk he could muster. He was satisfied by the cold calculating look Ned Stark gave him. Jaime didn't even pretend to know why the she-wolf had lied for him, but he was certainly going to enjoy whatever reaction it managed to get out of her father.
It was painfully obvious that Jaime wasn't going to get a thank-you from the Northerns. "I'd love to stay and be praised for saving your daughter, but I have duties to attend to."
With that, he turned and walked away, with a satisfied smirk on his face.
Torrhen stared after him, wondering why Ser Jaime had stood by and watched her fight four men, completely unarmed, and why he had only chosen to show himself when she had already killed them all.
A/N: So... sorry? I honestly don't know how to apologise properly for waiting super long for the update. I would like to give a HUGGEEEE thank you to everyone following/favouriting/reviewing my story. It does mean a lot to me that even though I don't update reguarly, or even often, that people still follow the story. So again, thank you. I will try to update more? I always say that but it never happens, lol. But yeah, maybe I might to procrastinate university work that I have to do. :P
Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, Remember, favourite and review and all those things. It does really mean so much to me that you guys appreciate this story.