"He's alive," Gendry uttered as he walked past her and stormed for the car.
"Who?" Brienne demanded, trying to keep up with him.
He stopped suddenly, turning to meet her eyes. He looked scared. Panicked. Lost. Like a stag, caught in the headlights. "My father," he whispered before starting for the car again.
Robert was alive?
"What?" she yelled, grabbing his arm and yanking him back. The coffee holder slipped from his hands and all four cups crashed into the asphalt, spilling their dark brown contents into the floor. Gendry closed his eyes, taking in a loud, deep breath, perhaps to calm himself. But it didn't work.
"Fuck!" he yelled up into the night sky.
He looked so angry.
All Brienne could think of doing was pulling him in to wrap her arms around him. He was a good foot shorter than her, and hugging him like this, she was reminded of Renly.
Your brother's alive, Ren.
"This might be a good thing, Gendry. It must be. It just has to be," she whispered against his hair, trying to find comfort in her own words.
It had to be a good thing. She knew how close Robert and Ned had been. This changed everything. Their plan. The situation. Everything.
Gendry pulled away from her gently. Briefly meeting her eyes with his slightly wets ones before letting his gaze fall, almost bashfully. He looked more calm.
"I'll go get more coffee," she told him with a smile, patting his arm and turning for the mini mart.
When she stepped into the car a few minutes later, balancing the coffee holder in her hands, Sandor turned to her, as if expecting something from her.
"What?" she snapped at him, pulling one of the coffees out of the cardboard holder.
"What happened?" the scarred man demanded.
"Gendry won't tell us." Jaime added, sounding childish.
At first, Brienne though that the best thing to do was to keep the Robert news from Sandor and Jaime. At least until Gendry felt ready to share. If this was anyone's news to tell, it was his.
However, after some thought, she decided it was important for everyone to know. Even Jaime.
"Robert is alive," she said as she slammed the car door behind her.
"What?" Jaime huffed from the back seat.
"He was always alive, but . . . well, he woke from his coma."
"That's impossible," Jaime shook his head.
"I guess your little plan failed."
Brienne's brows creased. "Plan?" she asked, turning to Jaime.
"Yeah. They planned to get rid of Robert, and get rid of his bastard, and get rid of the will," Sandor said, starting the engine. As soon as the vehicle began to move, she could feel her eyes beginning to dry from the air that was coming through the front of the car; where the windshield should have been.
"How do you know all this?" she asked Sandor.
"Typical dog," Jaime spat weakly, before Sandor could answer Brienne." You bite the hand that feeds."
"What do you mean?" Brienne turned from Jaime, to Sandor, sliding to the edge of her seat to get a better look of his face.
"It means he can't be trusted. He used to work for my family. He was my nephew's man. And now, suddenly he turned honorable... and he's helping you two... I just don't buy it!"
"I don't give a fuck what you..."
"Why did you leave them?" Brienne asked Sandor, cutting him off.
"It's none of your business," Sandor barked, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
Brienne shook her head to herself. "This is insane. How can we even trust you?"
"Oh, no. Not this shit again. I already went through with this with this one," Sandor said bitterly, nodding once towards Gendry, who sat silent in the co-pilot seat. "I'm not explaining myself to you. I owe you no explanation. It's none of your business, blondie."
Brienne cringed at the nickname. "It so happens that it is my business, when people I love are putting their trust in you!"
The car suddenly roared forward, twice as fast as it had been going, filling with icy air, making it hard to breath and sending her short hair in twenty different directions.
"Slow the fuck down!" she yelled, barely able to hear herself over the howling wind in the car. "Sandor!"
She closed her eyes involuntarily against the cutting air that was hitting her face at over 140 kph.
This asshole is going to kill us all, she thought as she reached over to where Sandor sat. But before she could grab a hold of his arm, the car began to slow drastically, making her fall forward, off her seat.
As soon as the car stopped, she sat upright.
Sandor was alreadyout of his seat.
"Wee. That was fun," Jaime groaned sarcastically before leaning forward to throw up on the car floor.
Sandor poked his head in the car. "We're changing cars," he said, "I'll break into that car," he pointed to the parked car he had parked behind. "Be ready to follow me as soon as I get it started." he told Gendry, tossing him the keys and running towards the black car.
Brienne turned to Gendry. "He could have gotten us killed," she stated angrily.
Gendry stole a quick glance her way before rolling his eyes at her and turning to stare after Sandor, who was fidgeting with the car door with his knife.
"Give it a rest Brienne," he told her, his breath rising in a puff of steam before him. Brienne reached over for one of the coffees. Thankfully, despite the rough drive, the cups had only turned over, but not fully spilled. She held the cup out for Gendry, but when he reached for it, she didn't let go of it. Gendry turned to face her, his blue eyes locking with hers.
"Just tell me you trust this man. That'll be enough for me," she whispered stiffly.
Gendry's jaw clenched, and he nodded once.
"I wouldn't be here with him if I didn't," he said, and he pulled the coffee free from her hand.
"We trusted that man too, once," Jaime croaked, his voice low and thick from puking.
Gendry seemed to completely ignore the comment, his eyes wary of their surroundings. Outside, Sandor had already broken into the car, and it seemed he just needed to get it started.
"And you want to know how he repaid us our trust?"
"Jaime?" she turned to him with a cup in her hands. In the dim light she could barely see him, but from what she managed to gather, he looked like he was barely holding on to his consciousness. She almost felt sorry for him.
"Yes?" he said, taking the cup gratefully between his tied hands, letting it warm his hands first before he took a sip from it.
"Shut up," she said.
To her surprise, he didn't say another word.
A quiet, grumbling protest of a motor let them all know that Sandor had finally started the car, and Gendry, who had hopped over to the driver's seat, started the Land Rover, following after Sandor down the dark village road. They drove for a few minutes until they were outside of the village. Sandor pulled off the road and bringing his car to a stop under some trees. He stepped out and walked to Gendry's open window.
"The best thing to do," he told Gendry, "Is to drive her car down that small hill there and into those trees. Anyone driving by won't notice it," he turned to Brienne, "You can report it stolen as soon as you have a chance."
Brienne wrapped her arms around herself, looking in the direction of the steep hill he was talking about.
The car was useless now. They were practically fugitives. Gendry had briefly explained everything that had happened since the Cutler's Hall shooting and she was well aware of the severity of their current situation.
Ned was dead. Renly was dead. Yoren was dead. Theon was dead. Officer Levan was working for the Lannisters, and she had tortured a man. Gendry was wanted, and she didn't doubt there was a price on Sandor's head. The last thing that should have crossed her mind at that moment, was the sentimental value behind the car. It was pretty worthless now. The windshield was gone, there was sick all over the back seat, the doors had pipe dents all over them, and, well, it was the car they were using to run away. That alone should have been enough to render it useless, and a target. Yet she found herself dreading her separating with it, recalling the day she'd bought the car.
Renly picked it.
She pushed the memories aside. "Let's do it," she nodded at Gendry.
The blue-eyed boy nodded back at her through the windshield and put the car on drive, moving slowly towards the edge and down the mildly steep hill for about 15 meters until the bumper softly crashed against a tree trunk. Gendry turned the car off and stepped out, making his way up the hill.
"You'll have to carry me," came Jaime's tired, raspy voice from behind. Brienne turned on her seat to face him.
"What?"
"I don't think I can walk."
"Try!" she opened her door, about to step out.
"I can't."
Brienne closed her eyes. Bloody hell!
The gravel crunched underfoot as she jumped off the car angrily. walking around it to the back door. Gendry was already halfway up the hill. Brienne yanked the back door open and reached over the seat to slip her arms under Jaime.
He smelled like vomit, and blood and like outside.
"Careful with my burns," he let out in a small voice. Brienne groaned, but caught herself carefully positioning him so that her arms barely grazed his wounded back.
He slipped his hands over her head, so that the knot of the cloth she'd used to tie his wrist together was resting behind her neck.
When she had a strong grip on him, one arm under his legs, and the other on his back, she lifted him over the back seat, gasping out as she felt all his weight heavy on her back and thigh muscles.
She began moving slowly up the hill on wobbly legs; too proud to call one of the guys for help, and too nice to make Jaime walk.
You're turning into a big softy, Brienne. Don't let the guilt overwhelm you. He deserved what he got.
"My knight in shining armor." Jaime said, his sour breath nearly making Brienne gag.
Brienne shook her head. "Too weak to walk but not to talk. What must one do to get you to shut up?"
"Cut my tongue out."
Brienne chuckled. "Not such a bad idea."
Jaime grunted out what might have been a laugh, and when she glanced at his face out of the corner of her eye to see if it had been, Brienne became aware that he was staring at her.
"You know . . . you're a very attractive girl."
Brienne's chuckled died off at that. "Don't mock me, Jaime. I could have just left you to the bears."
Jaime let out a snort. "We're in Hollingworth, you stupid wench."
"To the fucking squirrels then!"
Jaime shook his head.
Thankfully, they were nearly at the top of the hill. Brienne felt she couldn't take his weight anymore.
"I'm serious though," Jaime said after a moment, "You're not an ugly woman. You have amazing eyes. Has anyone told you how becoming blue eyes are on a cloudy, dark winter's night?"
Brienne felt her muscles relax as she dropped him on the floor, kicking him once on the leg before walking around him, heading for the top of the hill by herself.
She shouldn't have felt so much pleasure from hearing him groan and complain about his ass, but she did.
Both Sandor and Gendry met her at the top, and she bumped her shoulder against Sandor's a bit too roughly as she headed towards the stolen car. "Fetch Jaime," she called back to him.
"Do I look like your fucking dog? I'm not a babysitter," Sandor yelled back at her.
Brienne turned to him, shrugging once. "Fine. Leave him. Whatever. I don't care."
Sandor screwed his face at her, but turned with a groan to fetch Jaime.
Brienne would have smiled if she wasn't so tired and on edge.
Men are such useless idiots.
xxxx
Arya felt her eyes grow wide with shock when she walked out the hall and saw Sansa and Joffrey making out in the hallway. The shock quickly turned into disgust and she chewed the inside of her lip to calm herself.
It wasn't the fact that they were making out that bothered her, but the manner they were doing it in. The overused term, "get a room," applied all too well to this situation.
"What do you want?" Sansa snapped at her, face flushed from making out.
Arya held her phone up for Sansa to see. "Mother wants a picture." she said.
Her mind trailed back to earlier that morning when Sandor had brought Sansa home, half-conscious, reeking of hard liquor and guy cologne. Her neck had been decorated with hickeys, and her dress was on backwards.
Arya had felt disgust at the thought of Sansa and Joffrey. Standing here, watching as she tugged at her dress, she felt it all over again. Thankfully it hadn't been Rickon or father who'd been witness to the repulsive display.
"You two are disgusting,"Arya told her elder sister as soon as Joffrey had walked back inside the hall. " That could have been father, or Rickon.'
"Just take the picture! And... I ... want... to ... see ... it... before... you ... send ... it!" Sansa said the last in a thick, warped voice.
Arya looked up from her phone to look at her sister, only to find herself staring at a faceless woman. The dress was Sansa's. So was the red hair, and the tall slender figure. But in place of a face, was nothing. Not a hole, not a covering... Just, nothing.
Arya looked down at the phone in her hand. The picture she'd just taken also showed a faceless woman.
"Let . . . me . . . see . . " the faceless woman called in a thick, distorted voice.
Arya swallowed hard, feeling raw fear pulse through her. "No," she said to the woman, and turned to reach for the door leading to the hall.
When she opened it, her body sliced through the dark.
And then she was gasping desperately for air.
She was no longer at Cutler's Hall, but in a basement, sitting on a tall metal tub full of ice and all the way up to her collar bone, her chest contracting as she tried to gulp in as much air as she could.
There was a shooting pain in her head and every muscle in her body was cramped stiff from the freezing temperature of the water.
Her fingers clasped numbly to the edges of the tub to keep herself from leaving the tub, when all her mind asked her to so was get out and seek warmth.
She had not yet grown used to the freezing water, as she hoped she would, even though she'd been in the tub for almost an hour.
"Say the name, girl."
Arya closed her eyes, drops of icy water dripping from her lashes and rolling down her numb cheeks. She was trying to remember who she'd just been with in her memories. It was becoming harder and harder to remember their names.
Red hair.
Pink night dress.
A long, lanky body.
She had been clasping to hers in fear.
They had been spending the weekend at grandfather's... he always gave them separate bedrooms, but she always came at night, half scared of "ghosts". Arya would slide over and make room for the 11 year old red head.
She would wrap her arms around her and fall asleep, and Arya liked it. She liked the feeling of her arms around her.
In the morning she'd be gone. Back to her own room . . .
What was her name?
'Girl!" Jaqen's voice came from somewhere in the room. "What is the name?"
Lemon cakes.
She loved lemon cakes.
"The name, girl!" he was growing impatient.
"SANSA!" Arya yelled out, letting her head drop from the overwhelming feeling of emptiness. Her chin kissed the surface of the water, making the ice cubes dance in the ripples.
As soon as she'd spoke the name, she'd felt the last traces of the redhead fade from her memory.
Just like the others.
"Good girl," came the thickly accented voice from some dark corner of the room.
"Who is next?"
Arya searched her memory, trying to find who was next in line to wipe out. To find who was still there.
"Gendry," she said, and she took in a lungful of breath before sinking under the freezing water.
And she was running. Running along the highway. It was warm out. September. And he was right there, like he'd been all those months ago. In his neat police uniform.
And he was chasing her.
And she was smiling . . .
xxxxxxxxxx
The parcel arrived just as they were opening the pawn shop.
Anguy had had a long weekend and he had really been looking forward to getting back to his normal schedule.
Despite what many would assume, he loved working at the pawn shop. Being the one in charge of fixing all the broken things always made him feel at peace.
The crossbow he'd been working on for over a month now was by far his favorite project.
Tom signed for the package, and turned to place it on Anguy's work table, shooting him a sympathetic smile.
Anguy groaned, taking one of his scalpels and slicing through the tape and pulling the flaps of the large brown box open. There was an envelope, like always, and this time, a small white box as well.
When Jaqen had called Harwin from an unknown number to inform them all that the hunt for Arya and the boy with her was over, Anguy was sure they would have at least a few months off, like last time.
Maybe more, since the last vacations they'd had had been interrupted unexpectedly when Arya and her Bull friend had walked into their shop and Harwin had insisted on bringing them to Jaqen.
He didn't question Jaqen's order. Even if he was slightly curious as to why the man had given up on finding the Stark girl.
He was just glad he would go back home. They all were, and the all kept their questions to themselves.
That's how things were with Jaqen. No one ever questioned him. There were no whats or whys. Just, "yes sir", and "all done sir".
And it suited everyone quite well.
To simply get the job done, and get paid generously for it.
The whole drive back home, Anguy's thoughts where on the crossbow that sat patiently on his work table; waiting for him.
As soon as Tom read the coordinates on the note that came with the parcel, Anguy cursed internally, and his eyes strayed to the crossbow quickly before he reached over to snatch the note from Tom's hand.
Anguy was one of three people who knew the exact locations of Jaqen's homes. All seven of them. That was how the german worked. He had few men working directly with him, and each only knew so much.
No one knew what the others did.
At first Anguy had felt privileged to be the only one to be trusted with this very personal information of Jaqen's.
What a fucking glorious honor! He had told himself, fighting off the urge to gloat with the rest of the guys.
He turned into the man's personal delivery boy though, and it soon grew tiresome.
Too much could go wrong, and only he would be to blame. So much depended on him. It had become a job he dreaded, and every time he went to and from places picking up and delivering Jaqen's parcels, he felt a heavy weight on his shoulders that only left him as soon as the package was no longer under his charge.
Every parcel came with a note. Those were always to be delivered from Jaqen. The note always only had a set of coordinates. Anguy had learned from Jaqen himself how to either add or subtract the coordinates from a fixed coordinate Anguy had memorized depending on the coordinate itself. The result would direct him to the place the parcel would be delivered to. If there was only a note, then the errand was to pick up a package and deliver it to one of Jaqen's homes. A few times, more often now than when he first started this job 4 years ago, there was a pick up followed by a second and sometimes third delivery. Or a delivery followed by another one.
That had been the case this time. Anguy had delivered the parcel that had arrived at the pawn shop only to be given another one that he had to take to Jaqen's home.
Anguy had walked into the large house and placed the parcel on a small table at the entrance.
Usually, whether Jaqen was home or not, Anguy never saw him, unless he happened to be walking by when Anguy entered the house. On those occasions, Jaqen ignored him. Sometimes he'd take the package from his hands, others he'd continue doing whatever it was he was doing as if Anguy hadn't just walked in.
This time though, when he'd walked into the house, he heard a noise coming from downstairs and because it sounded like someone choking, and he did something he'd never done before. He stepped further into the house, making sure it really was someone choking and not something else. The last thing he wanted was to walk in on Jaqen and a woman realizing the choking sounds had been... something else.
He froze after a few resistant steps, and listened. He could still hear the noises. They were coming from downstairs.
There was coughing too, and then a low, stern voice, "The name, girl?!" it had called out.
"SANSA!" someone had answered. A girl.
And Anguy had sprinted for the door, yanking it open and pulling his gun out from inside his coat, quietly jogging down the stairs into the dimly lit basement.
By the time Anguy had reached the bottom of the stairs, he'd had just enough time to realize it was Arya before she'd sunk under the ice water of the tub she was sitting in.
Jaqen, who had been sitting on a foldable chair, several meters from the tub, turned to Anguy with a murderous glare.
"Uhh... I'm sorry, I heard a sound, I thought... I brought a parcel... it's ... on the table... upstairs," Anguy had managed to stammer out nervously. All he had wanted to do was run back up the stairs, out the front door, into his car, and drive as far and as fast as he could from this place.
But he stood his ground, ready for whatever consequences his intrusion would bring.
"Then you can let yourself out, Anguy," Jaqen had said and Anguy had tripped up the stairs and run out of the house and to his car.
He was probably going to get fired now. Or worse. Things with Jaqen were never simple. Men were never simply fired. They disappeared. Or worse, they were used to prove a point or made an example out of.
Anguy had known that when he signed up for the job. He should have known better and he should have minded his own business.
During the entire drive home, that hadn't been what had troubled his ride though.
Arya Stark had been in that basement with Jaqen, sitting on that ice tub. What was she doing there? Why was she in that tub? What was going on in that room? Where was that overprotective Bull guy that never seemed to want to leave her side?
Question after question rose and each possible answer disturbed him more than the last.
When he finally parked his car outside of his house, for once, he was pleased to see the old boys' vehicles parked in his four car driveway.
Tom, Lem and Harwin sat around his kitchen table, poker cards in one hand, and drinks on the other; a pile of bills and useless pocket findings in the center.
They were arguing in Catalan, and Lem seemed more amused than the other two men.
Anguy hung up his keys and walked to the table, taking Lem's drink from the man's hand and swigging it down in one gulp.
"Long day?" Harwin said without looking up from his cards. He dropped two on the table, turning to Tom.
"I think I might have fucked just about everything up for myself today," Anguy cleared his throat, picking up the bottle of brandy off the table and filling the cup again.
"What happened?" Harwin asked. Anguy had everyone's attention now. He gulped the glass' content down, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his coat before speaking.
"I just... I'm just supposed to deliver the packages and get the hell out of the house... but today, I heard this noise, so I pulled my gun out and went down into the basement. It was just Jaqen though. And I felt like a total imbecile. He looked pretty annoyed."
Lem rolled his eyes at that, turning his attention to his cards again. "That doesn't sound too bad kid," he said, taking his glass from Anguy's hands, and filling it for himself.
"If you were in trouble, you'd have known on the spot. You're fine boy. Just don't do it again." Tom offered in a comforting tone. He dropped three cards on the table bringing groans from both Lem and Harwin.
Anguy combed his fingers through his neatly gelled hair, taking in a deep breath to calm himself down. "You don't understand though. It was more than just walking in on Jaqen. It was what I walked in on... or more like, who I walked in on."
Again, all three men turned their attention to him, forgetting about their game.
"Enough with the damn suspense. Just spill the damn beans, Anguy," Lem barked up, dropping his cards on the table and taking a sip from his glass.
"When I walked into the basement, Jaqen was with Arya. She was sitting in a large metal tub full of ice water."
"Ned's kid?" Tom asked.
None of the men looked as surprised as Anguy had hoped. He nodded once.
"So that's why the searched was cancelled. Jaqen had already found her," Lem added, more to himself than to the men.
"Yes. But the question is... did Jaqen find her, or did she find him? What the hell was going on in that basement? What was she doing in that tub? Her little bodyguard boy toy wasn't with her. Where is he? What was she doing in the damn tub?" Anguy demanded, slamming his hands on the table and turning to the men as if they had the answers. He was surprised to hear the shuddery sigh that escaped Harwin, and realized then, that they may indeed have the answers.
"What?" Anguy looked at the men inquisitively. When none of them met his eyes or answered, he reached over to still Harwin's hands, which were collecting the cards into one stack. "You know something, don't you?"
Harwin met his eyes then. "I do. And trust me. It's best you stay ignorant to it."
"What?" Anguy cried out in frustration. "Bull shit! That's bull shit!"
"We all know stuff that we must keep from each other. That's what this job requires from us," Tom said casually, smiling sleepily at his drink.
Anguy shook his head, rage stirring inside of him. He wasn't buying this. Not one single bit.
He turned to Lem. "I'm guessing you know too?" Lem rolled his eyes. "This is ridiculous. You all know, and I'm the idiot whose kept in the dark, as usual."
"Stop being so damn childish. Harwin's right. You're better off not knowing." Tom said, pushing his chair away from the table and rising. "I think we can all agree that my hand won," he said, collecting the bills and knick knacks off the table and finishing his drink. "And I'm off to bed. Bona nit els mels amors," he blew kisses at all three of them before walking towards the wing with the guest bedrooms.
"Buenas noches Tomas. I too, am calling it a night," Harwin said, placing the stack of cards on the table and patting Anguy on the back before walking after Tom.
Anguy chewed on the inside of his cheek, fighting against the fury that threatened to take over him as he pulled out a chair and sat, letting his head fall into his hands.
This wasn't the first time he had been kept out of something, which had been one of the reasons he had at first relished the thought of being one of three to know Jaqen's exact whereabouts. To finally be the one with a secret of his own.
After four years, he had hoped things would be different, and it pissed him off to find out that they weren't, but more than anything, to know how much it clearly pleased them to keep this from him.
He turned to Lem, who sat next to him, idly shuffling the stack of cards.
"I would tell you. You know I would," Anguy said, finally hearing how childish and whiny he really did sound.
Lem chuckled. "Because you should have been a girl. You love gossip. You don't really care what Jaqen was doing with that girl. You just hate being the only one not to know."
Anguy shrugged. Lem was half right. He was upset at the guys for keeping this from him, but the desire to know what was happening in that basement really outweighed it.
"Tom and Harwin are right. You're better off not knowing..."
Anguy sighed. Whatever, he thought in surrender, about to rise from his seat, when Lem spoke again.
"But I'll tell you anyway. If it'll stop you from crying."
Anguy's brows shot up at that, and he ignored the jape, suddenly too ecstatic at the revelation that Lem was actually going to tell him. "Go on then." he urged.
Lem rolled his eyes. "Well, for starters," he began in a very hushed tone, leaning into the table, coming as close to Anguy as he could. Anguy leaned in too, propping his chin on his clasped hands. "This is something that's only been performed once before by Jaqen. It's an ancient practice. He calls it a wipe out, but that;s not really what it's called or what it does. Harwin is the only one of the three of us who has witnessed it."
"What is it? What does it do?" Anguy whispered anxiously.
"Are you gonna let me fucking tell you, or not?" Lem whispered back, clearly annoyed. Anguy nodded, deciding not to interrupt Lem until he was sure the large man was finished telling his story.
"Like I said, he calls it a wipe out. But that's not exactly what it does. . . From what I've heard, the person it's performed on is exposed to extremes. The one time Jaqen did it, he used temperature. Exposing the person's body to as much cold as it could handle before shutting down."
"For what?"
"To blur out memories. Hide them in the depths of the mind until they become no more than a haze. Faces become holes in people's heads. Names hold no meaning. Places are simply that. Places. No value or significance to them. All familiarity... gone. All pushed back into a deep, unvisited place of the mind."
"Wiping their memory?" Anguy asked with revolt.
Lem shook his head.
"No. Memory wipe is not possible. That's all science fiction. This is something different. The memories stay, but the body rejects them. It goes into panic mode if at any point the person strays too close to them."
"How?" Anguy gasped out. "How is that possible?"
"The exposure to the extreme temperatures... While the body is underwater, freezing... every cell in it numbing... the brain is fighting against it and playing out every memory it has of the person, place, thing event, whatever, that they want wiped. By the time the person comes up for air, the brain has rejected the memories played out. It relates the memories to the pain, in this case, the cold, and the subconscious stays away from it. Like I said, it's not a wipe out . . . more like a fade out."
Anguy couldn't believe what he was hearing. Lem called memory wipe the stuff of sci-fi films... but this was right there aswell... between aliens and the Loch Ness monster. It was insane, and too incredible. It made Anguy uneasy and a bit sick.
"And..." Anguy cleared his throat. "It works?"
"Jaqen's only tried it one other time. And it worked."
"Why would he do this to Arya?" Anguy could hear the anger and disgust in his voice, but didn't bother with trying to hide it. He was pissed, and he didn't know why.
Lem shook his head. "It can't work unless the person enters the procedure willingly. Half is physical, half is all in the head. If the person doesn't want this, or is having doubts, the brain will pick up on it, and it won't reject the memories. Not when the doubt is clasped on to them. Arya must have wanted this."
"That makes no sense. All that poor girl wanted was to find her family. She lost her father, then her mother... you were there. You say the news. She was devastated. Who wouldn't be. . . There is no . . . no way she would want to forget anyone or anything."
"Maybe that's exactly what she wanted. To forget. The deaths. The pain."
"No," Anguy shook his head roughly. "Not Arya. She's not that weak. She's a smart girl."
"Maybe she isn't. Maybe the procedure will fail. Maybe it won't. But know that she did want this. Otherwise, Jaqen wouldn't have wasted his time trying it out again."
Anguy felt a chill run down his spine.
Again.
Again.
The word hung in the air like a huge, fat question mark.
"Lem. . . ? Who was the other person?"
"Huh?"
"You said there was another. Who was it? Was it me?"
Out of nowhere, Lem's hand twacked him behind the head. "Don't be an idiot."
"Well, I just though, I mean, since you wanted to keep this from me..."
"Because it's madness. It's Eternal Sunshine of the fucking Spotless Mind. Only Jaqen's not fucking Tom Wilkinson... this is real. And it's fucked up."
Anguy completely agreed. He filled one of the glasses on the table with the last of the brandy and took too large gulps.
"Who was the other person then?"
Lem sighed, and for a moment Anguy thought he wouldn't tell him. To be honest, he only partially wanted to know. Part of him wished he had listened to them, and stayed ignorant to the whole situation.
"Osha... Jaqen's sister."
"Her!?"
"Yes. She was the first."
"Shit! What did she forget? Does anyone know?"
"Oddly, yes. Harwin. And he told us. Osha isn't really Jaqen's sister. She thinks that now, but before she messed with her memories, she was his lover. That's what she forgot."
"What the fuck!" Anguy grimaced in disgust. This was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind. This was worse, like Lem had said, cause it was real. And it was absolutely repulsive.
Lem chuckled. "Yes. The way Harwin told it, Osha was living in the streets and tried to mug Jaqen . She failed, and Jaqen's men caught her and brought her to him. He was going to have her punished, but quickly grew fond of her spirit, so he kept her around and struck a deal with her. He'd forget her attack if she ran errands for him. Sorta like you do, but Jaqen controlled things differently back then. He wasn't as careful. He trusted too many people with too much information. It didn't take long for them to start a relationship. During that time though, someone that was working for Jaqen tipped the authorities on a shipment exchange Jaqen was conducting at St' Augustine's and he was nearly caught.
"Jaqen accused the man he had been doing business with, and their feud nearly cost Osha her life. Jaqen has always hated weaknesses, and she had become just that, so it was time to get rid of her. She refused to leave him, and said she was willing to do anything to stay with him. She'd fallen for him." Lem rolled his eyes at that. "Jaqen told her about the memory wipe, something he'd only read about and had been dying to test out. He's always been intrigued by new ways and ideas, you know that. Osha agreed, he made her forget everything, and it worked. He cleaned her up, passed her off as his sister, and she remained loyal to him, but their relationship turned strictly sibling... and he won in the end, more than she did. Because he wasn't alone... and he had no more weaknesses... Whatever she gained out of this she wouldn't have knowledge of... since she couldn't remember. . ."
"And she's never remembered anything? Ever?" Anguy asked in disbelief.
"No."
"So... whatever Arya forgets..."
"Will probably stay in shadows for the rest of her life."
xxxxxxxxxx
"This man.. you sure we can trust him?" Brienne scratched her arm nervously as all four of them stood on the moving lift, staring at the metal doors.
"Yes. I told you a thousand times already. We can." Sandor whispered through his teeth.
"You are so utterly ridiculous, Sandor," Jaime mumbled out besides Brienne. "You only said it three times. I counted them."
Gendry could feel his patience growing thinner by the second with this lot. He loved Brienne to bits, but her current belligerent attitude towards Sandor was really wearing him out. Jaime was not helping out one bit. He was beginning to see why Brienne had gone to the extent of torturing the man.
He couldn't blame Brienne for her actions towards either man though. Jaime had been partially to blame for Renly's death, and it had taken Gendry everything in him to trust Sandor, so he understood how difficult it was.
Either way, under these circumstances, he wished Brienne would trust his trust in Sandor and stop making this difficult for them all. They had enough with Jaime.
The lift doors opened on the 11th floor, and Gendry was the first one to step out, glad of the open space. These three were turning him into a claustrophobic.
Sandor led them down the hallway to a flat door, banging on it aggressively. They stood still and alert for a few moments, but nothing was heard from the other side of the door.
"Maybe..." Jaime said, leaning against Brienne for support. She groaned with annoyance, but didn't shove him away. "No one's home."
Gendry gritted his teeth with irritation."Does he have an off button or something?" he asked.
"We should gag him," Sandor offered, banging on the door again.
Gendry opened his mouth, about to agree, when someone called out from behind the door.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" the voice asked sleepily as steps approached the door.
"Two in the morning. Now open up." Sandor said, turning to both sides of the hall. Gendry did too. No one was around, thankfully.
The flat door opened revealing a short, chubby, bald man in worn out boxers and a holey, faded Stones t shirt. He looked to be in his late 30's ... and half asleep.
It only took one groggy look at Sandor for his eyes to grow wide with terror, though.
"No!" he yelled and slammed the door. Sandor was one step ahead of the man though and caught the door with one hand before it fully closed, kicking it open.
"Get out! Get away!" the man squealed as he ran backwards, away from Sandor.
He reached over to a bureau and grabbed an R2-D2 book end, swinging it at Sandor, who had followed the man into the flat.
Gendry was beginning to think this had been a bad idea. He exchanged a look with Brienne, and he could tell she thought the same.
"Get away!" the man yelled, smashing the marble R2-D2 against the scarred side of Sandor's face.
Sandor grabbed the man's hand, twisting it back so that the man had no choice but to release the book end.
Sandor slapped his other hand over the man's mouth, muffling his cries for help.
"Get in! Close the door!' he yelled back at Gendry and Brienne, and taking one last look around the hallway to make sure no one had been awakened by the ruckus, Gendry followed Brienne into the flat, closing the door behind him.
"Shut up, Varys! Shut up! I'm not going to hurt you," Sandor huffed out at the man as he shoved him onto a sofa. "I'm just here to collect."
Sandor said the last so sinisterly, a wicked smile spreading across his face, that Gendry actually felt bad for the man.
The fat man's jaw dropped, and he stammered incoherently, a thin sheen of sweat visible on his bald head.
"Relax. I come in peace, or however that fucking line goes," Sandor cut him off mid stammer, wiping the hand he'd held against the man's mouth against his pants. "In fact if you do this one favourfor me, we can call it even."
The man's color returned to him as he glanced meaningfully, first at Brienne, then at Gendry and finally at Jaime, whose state was a ghastly one. "Favour?"
"I need you to wire me up," Gendry said, taking a step forward, "Sandor said you could. Is that true?"
The fat man chuckled, looking a bit more relaxed. "Boy. I am the Spider. There's really nothing I can't do."
Gendry felt oddly reassurance at that. Good call, Sandor.
This plan might just work.
Vary's eyes trailed from Gendry to Jaime, narrowing with curiosity.
"May I inquire about the man?"
"No. You may not," Gendry snapped, "Not him, or us. You just do your thing and keep your questions to yourself."
"I don't need to tell you that this all stays between us, do I?" Sandor added, stepping next to Gendry so that the man was cornered into his sofa.
The man smiled with an unexpected confidence. "Of course not, Hound."
And with that, he stood and disappeared into his bedroom.
Brienne walked Jaime over to the sofa, helping him sit before fetching him a glass of water. He drank it all ravenously, and Brienne unbuttoned her coat, reaching in to rip out a large strip of her already ripped shirt and using it to gag Jaime.
Jaime's eyes never left her face as she tied the knot behind his head, and they exchanged a long look before she turned to walk away.
Gendry was beginning to worry about her. He hoped that the guilt wasn't beginning to cloud her judgement. Or worse, Gendry hoped she wasn't falling into that whole "Stockholm Syndrome"- or rather, "Lima syndrome".
He knew Brienne. She was a strong, intelligent and very sensible woman.
He couldn't deny though, that in the few hours they'd been together since their reunion, he'd noticed some odd tension between Brienne and Jaime that had nothing to do with Jaime's involvement with Renly's murder, or with Brienne capturing and torturing him.
Gendry pushed those thoughts aside. One thing at a time Gendry. Like you told Sandor. Like you're doing with Robert.
Getting to the root of the problem would make everything else fall into place. There was no need to fill his head with worries over the Robert issue... or Brienne.
She was here, and she was alive. And that was more than he could say for some of his other friends.
And he... well, he would deal with that when he had to... not know. Not when Arya was still out there and he had the will to deal with.
His eyes travelledaround the small tv room. The walls were covered with post it's and posters; their corners curling out. The floor was littered with take out boxes and beer bottles. An entire wall was a bookshelf; the bookshelves giving in under the weight of monitors, devices unknown to Gendry, and boxes full of wires.
"Kind of a dump," Gendry said to Sandor, who was also walking around the room, reading the messy script on the post its.
"Yes. He's a swine. He seems like a halfwit, but he's actually a genius."
"What's with the Hound thing?"
Sandor shook his head. "Just an alias. I was the Hound, he was the Spider. It was from a long time ago."
"Aliases?" Gendry chuckled. The thought of Sandor having an alias, and hanging out with this geek was hilarious. "What were you, like some sort of..."
"Hacker," Sandor interrupted him. Gendry felt his brows rise with genuine surprise. "We were hackers. Well . . . actually, Varys still is."
"Wow," was all Gendry could say. He was quite impressed.
"Alright," Varys chimed in gleefully as he wobbled out of the bedroom, holding a large metal case which he slammed down on the kitchen table. "Strip," he told Gendry as he unclasped the latches on the case and opened it.
Gendry obeyed, unzipping his jacket as he glanced over at the inside of the case.
"So," Varys began to pull out the small wired microphone from the case. "You want with or without a camera? I also have an earpiece."
"Give me everything," Gendry pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the table.
Varys spent the next hour wiring Gendry up and explaining to both Brienne and Sandor how to use the program that came with the surveillance kit.
They agreed that they should have a direct connection to the laptop Varys provided them with, so that in case something happened to Gendry, they'd still have all the audio and footage. He mentioned Cutler's Hall, Robert, Ned, and the Stark children to Sandor, asking him if he was still employed by them, but Sandor lied and said he'd stopped working for that family months before the incident. Thankfully, the press still hadn't released any footage of that night, which, according to Arya, would have showed Sandor pulling Sansa off the stage. Varys didn't seem to buy Sandor's story though, but thankfully, he didn't push him for any further information.
"So, we're even?" Varys asked as they all headed for the door.
Gendry walked out of the flat and into the hallway, too conscious of the wires that were taped to his back and chest.
"Yes," Sandor told Varys at the door, "I'll bring back all your shit as soon as I can. And we can forget about your debt to me."
Varys smiled, quite pleased, leaning on the door frame and giving Sandor a quizzical look. "Well, whatever this is about, I'm guessing it's important to you, if you're willing to forget the debt. I don't doubt I'll be hearing all about it in the news soon, knowing you."
"I'll see you," Sandor said, ignoring the last bit and guiding the group towards the lifts. Before they made it there though, Varys called out to them.
"Oi... I knew I recognized you," he said, in an almost sensual voice.
They all stopped walking, and Gendry turned on his heel, facing the man.
"Your face is all over the media. Good luck Gendry. I mean it. Be careful."
With that he slipped into his apartment and closed the door, leaving Gendry dumbstruck.
"Don't worry," Sandor called over to him, pressing the elevator button. "He won't say anything."
Gendry didn't know Varys, and he barely knew Sandor, but strangely enough, he had a feeling Sandor was right.
"Now what?" Brienne asked, walking Jaime into the lift.
"We call Cersei," Gendry said, stepping into the lift before Sandor and pressing the lobby button.
The cold air outside was almost soothing to Gendry, who grew more and more nervous by the minute.
Brienne pulled out Jaime's mobile from her coat pocket, and Gendry clicked it open, scrolling down to Cersei's name and pressing the call button. The line began to ring, and Gendry instantly felt every muscle in him tense up. He gave his back to Brienne and Sandor, taking a few steps towards the empty street.
After the fourth ring, someone picked up. It was a woman.
"Where the hell have you been Jaime? I've been going insane."
"This isn't Jaime," Gendry said into the phone. There as a long, drawn out pause before she spoke again. She sounded surprisingly composed.
"Who is this? Where's Jaime?" she demanded.
"I don't know where he is. I kept his phone after our . . . encounter."
"Who is this!?"
Gendry swallowed the knot on his throat, and licked his dry lips before he spoke again. "This is Gendry. Gendry Waters."
Another, longer pause.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?"
"I don't know you... so I couldn't say. But I'm not lying. I am Gendry. And as I speak, you can't deny that deep down inside of you, you know that I'm telling the truth."
He heard her swallow over the phone.
"What do you want?" she asked calmly.
Gendry could feel his hand shaking. "To meet you. We need to talk."
She let out a dry, bitter laugh. "No, we don't."
"We do. Men are dead. Good men. All thanks to you. You've made a disastrous mess over some petty will... a will I want no part of... So yes, we need to talk. And you will meet me. Alone. Today."
"Today?"
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"Yes. I'll be alone. So you must be too. I just want to talk. To make you believe that I don't want to be part of you or your husband's life. I want no part in that will. I just want to be left alone."
After a very long, silent moment, she spoke, sounding more confident than he felt.
"Alright. I'm at Weston Park Hospital. Where do you want to meet?"
"Kirk Edge Road. Head East, passing Bradfield School."
"Alright. What are you driving. How will I know where to find you?"
"Trust me... You'll know. I'll be there in one hour. And remember. Alone. Trust me, I'll know if you aren't. One hour."
Gendry ended the call before she could reply, exhaling sharply as he turned to face Brienne and Sandor.
"It's done."
Brienne nodded stiffly, not meeting Gendry's eyes.
"Let's be off then." Sandor tossed the keys to Gendry.
Gendry caught them in the air, feeling the tape of the wires pulling at his chest and back skin under his shirt. He shuddered.
But whether it was at the rub of the wire against his skin, or the realization of what he was about to do, he did not know.
xxxxxxxxxx
Robert waking up had shed a ray of hope on the darkness that had been her life these past few days.
Joffrey arrived soon after the doctor had let Sansa back into the room, and Cersei and the children a 10 minutes after Joffrey had called them.
The doctor had forbidden any mention of Ned, or the shooting, or anything that may upset Robert, so they had to be careful when speaking to him. He asked. He asked a lot of questions, but Cersei had kissed his forehead and assured him there would be time to discuss everything after he got some rest.
Tears ran down her eyes when she saw the kids sitting by their father, clasping tightly onto his plump hands.
Sansa wasn't fooled though. Not anymore. Not after speaking to Robb. But she shrugged it off for now, instead finding joy in the happiness of Myrcella and Tommen.
She really missed her father. And her mother. She wished she could hug Arya, and Bran and little Rickon.
She wanted to be with Robb.
He was so close. The closest of all her siblings, yet so far away.
With Robert awake now, things might change.
As soon as the doctor gave her the go ahead, she would sit with Robert and tell him everything. Even what Bran saw, and how he ended up in that wheel chair.
Everything.
It would be a terrible, heavy conversation, but it was an important one. It had to be done.
To clear her father's name... to bring her family together again. And to make the Lannisters pay for their crimes.
When visiting hours were nearing their end, Cersei told Sansa and Joffrey she'd stay the night with Robert, and to go home and take the kids.
Sansa couldn't help but worry about Robert's safety. She didn't really think Cersei capable of killing her own husband, but she still did worry.
The drive home had been very quiet, and while the children occasionally whispered two or three words to each other, Joffrey remained silent.
Sansa was a bit confused.
She had credited Joffrey's late bad mood to his father being at risk of losing his life. Staring at him now, one would have thought he'd received terrible news, rather than good ones.
When they arrived at the manor, the children went straight to their rooms, and although Sansa was exhausted and wanted very much to be alone, she followed Joffrey into the piano room, hoping she could to cheer him up. She didn't want to, but she couldn't leave him alone either. That part of her still lingered, even after everything that had happened.
"Aren't you happy Joffrey?" Sansa asked when, after about ten minutes of nothing but the crack of the firewood in the fireplace filling the room, she realized he wasn't going to be the first to speak. Joffrey turned to her, two glasses in his hands re filled with champagne.
"My father has woken from a coma. How else could I feel?"
Sansa tightened her fist besides on her lap. She hated when he spoke to her in that tone.
"Well you don't seem very happy," she noted dryly as she took the glass from his hand.
"Well, I should be. My father is well, I can finally begin to prepare for my wedding, with my beautiful fiancee... yet all of that happiness is overshadowed by disappointment."
"I don't follow," Sansa admitted with very little interest, taking a sip from her glass.
Joffrey forced a laugh, and sat besides her on the chaise, his green eyes looking deeply into hers. All at once, she felt her insides turn with panic.
"Do you remember, the morning we found out Sandor was missing? That he'd left me without a thank you... a good bye... nothing."
Sansa tensed, becoming suddenly alert. She began praying that Sandor was okay. That this wasn't Joffrey's sick way of telling her he'd been caught and killed, or worse...
"You told me," he continued, pulling her from her thought and worries. "that after he dropped you off, you came inside. That you didn't see him after that. That he didn't mention anything..."
This had just turned to her now. Not Sandor, who was out there, somewhere. Far away from this hell.
But her. Sitting here, before Joffrey, feeling herself shrink smaller and smaller under his fuming eyes.
"yet the surveillance video...shows otherwise."
Sansa began to breath more heavily. She wanted to tear her gaze away from Joffrey but she didn't dare to. She was like an caught in the headlights of a car. Knowing she was in danger, knowing she had to move...
Rise.
Walk away.
Don't look back,
Like you should have done in the first place. When Sandor offered.
...Yet unable to react.
"Did you really think I'd be stupid enough not to check the videos?"
There it was. That tone again. It made Sansa want to slap him.
"Yes," she answered boldly, hoping it threw him off and made him realize she wasn't going to let him push her around now.
Joffrey sprung off the chaise, flinging his glass against the wall and pulling her to her feet by her shoulders. "How dare you!"
"Joffrey. Let go of me," she warned him though clenched teeth.
"You were in that car a long time, then you chased after it," his grip tightened around her shoulders, "What did you two talk about, you slut? What were you two plotting?"
"Joffrey, you're hurting me!" this time it was a plea.
"I've been so stupid. So blind. I should have seen it sooner," his face was now inches away from hers, and she could smell the alcohol in his breath. He had been drinking since before he'd arrived at the hospital. "It was always clear. The stares between you two. How he followed you everywhere. It wasn't for me. It was for you! It was all you! The whole time."
"You're drunk! You're talking nonsense!"
He shook her once, making her teeth rattle in her mouth. "How long had you been slutting around with that dog? With that scarred up dog! I bet it turns you on! His charred skin. I bet it makes you wet, you fucking whore! Doesn't it? Tell me! Does it? Tell me!? How long were you fucking that monster!?"
"Sandor is more of a man than you'll ever be! You're the monster!" she yelled up at him, with all the hate, anger and disdain she had collected in this house these past few days.
The back of Joffrey's hand connected hard against her cheek, sending her face flying to one side as he struck her.
Her red hair hung limp over her face as she raised her hand to the throbbing skin of her face. She could taste blood. It welled quickly inside her mouth.
She turned to him, and spat it right at his face.
Joffrey's eyes widened, and he reached to touch his face, pulling his hand away to stare at the bloody spit in disbelief.
"I'll fucking kill you!" he shrieked, grabbing a handful of her hair, and pulling her down to the floor.
He was on top of her then, straddling her body, both hands encircling her throat.
Sansa fought to breathe, and her head raced to figure out how to get out of this one. How to get him off her. How to save herself.
Without telling her body to do so, she brought her leg up, and her knee met the side of his ribs with force, making his grip loosen long enough so she could crawl out from under him and run for the door.
"Help!" she called out desperately. "Stephen! Andrew! Harriet!" she was screaming down the hallway. She had to get out of there. Joffrey was insane, and he would surely kill her if she stayed.
She could already hear him running behind her, yelling out a string of profanities.
Andrew, the butler, came into view at the end of the hallway, terrified at the sight before him.
Tears began to stream down her face. "Andrew! Help me!"
The man began to run to her, but when she reached him, Joffrey, who had caught up to her, socked him in the face, knocking him unconscious on the floor.
Sansa began to sob, every cell in her resonating pure terror as she ran in the opposite direction and towards a room with a slightly ajar door.
She slammed the door closed with her body as soon as she was inside, her iced hands scratching at the handle until she found the lock and turned it.
She was in Robert's study. Her eyes searched for a phone, but she found none.
Joffrey was banging on the door now, screaming out threats.
"Joffrey, please!" she begged, "Stop this. This is insane."
He began to slam against the door, from the sound of it, and before long, it the wood cracked.
Sansa looked up from the open desk drawers she was rummaging through and knew it wouldn't take long for him to break in. She had to find something to protect herself, or jump out a window.
She ran to the drapes, pulling them open. She was on the third floor, but she had no other choice.
Her hands began to wander through the glass, searching for that latch, when she heard the door finally break open. She spun, allowing herself only a second of panic before running opposite Joffrey, towards the small spiral staircase that lead up to the loft.
"You're dead, bitch!" Joffrey yelled behind her.
She wasn't going to make it to the staircase, or to the door. She spotted a wheeled display with fencing swords standing along the wall and made her way to them. She made it before Joffrey reached her, nearly slipping as she crashed against the display and circled her hand around one of the hilts, pulling it out of the wheel. With all the strength she had left she slammed the tip against the marble floor, and thankfully, it broke off in time for her to spin and jam it forward, her eyes closing against the outcome.
She heard the most grotesque, wet, gagging sound and when she opened them again, a piercing scream rang in the air.
It took her a while to realize it was coming from her. When she finally focussed on her tear blurred surroundings, she realized the body that lay on the floor was Joffrey's.
He was coughing up blood and more blood splurted out of the hole in his throat. More began to pool around his head like a halo. Thick, sticky, red halo. . .
. . . and after a few moments, he stopped moving.
Wide eyes staring up at her... face peppered with droplets of blood.
One of her cold, trembling hands rose to clasp over her mouth. She began to wail into it, unable to believe what was before her.
"Miss Sansa! Master Joffrey!"
Harriet and Stephen ran into the study, followed by a few more staff members.
"Oh my God!" Harriet yelled at the sight of Joffrey. "What happened?"
Sansa met their eyes, one by one... their faces blurred by new tears.
"He's dead." she gasped out. "I killed him."
Translation:
Tom: Bona nit els mels amors : Good night, my loves (catalan)
Harwin: Buenas noches Tomas: Good night Tomas. (spanish)
My beta pointed out the use of the two languages, and yes, i used both catalan and spanish and have done so before. My translator, who is from Barcelona told me it's very common for them to use both, sometimes even in the same sentence. So I incorporated that to the characters :)
AN
AHHHH!
A lot going on in this chapter, but first, as always, I apologize for the late update, and that's why i made this chapter longer.
The play im working on is really stressful.
Anyway...
Ughhh! so much, so much.
Jaqen... what he's doing is totally fucked up!
I had so much fun with Sandor, Brienne, Jaime and Gendry.
Kudos to anyone that catches a Skins reference.
Gendry, poor baby, with the three of them, and with the nagging Robert emotions.
We met Varys!
haha, honestly guys, he came out of nowhere, life Petyr... i'll see if he'll return or not... really depends on whether ill need him or not.
I loved the Anguy POV... the BwB are my favorite part of SoS (aside from the obvious Arya/Gendry and Brienne/Jaime moments) and I had to bring them back, and I love them to bits! So yea, I brought them back to give us that Jaqen/Osha inside...
which segues to Osha!
UGH! Yes, i did it! I made the plot more complicated!
and finally! Joffrey and Sansa!
he's dead. properly dead.
I had to give Sansa enough motive to make her go through with it, and in her defense, it was more self defense than anything.
But yes. As always, Maddie, i love you! Thanks so much for being an amazing beta.
Readers. I love you all too. Every one of you. Your support and reviews really make this so much more enjoyable. Thanks to all of you who review. I really, really appreciate the feedback. It had helped me give shape to the story
(to tell you that I had intended to kill Robb, but because of reviewer's pleas, I haven't and i most definitely WON'T)
So yes, your reviews count and mean a lot. So keep them coming you wonderful darlings!
PS I made another mv/trailer for this fic. i'll post the link on my ff profile. warning, it sorta has spoilers :)
you can also check it out on my youtube channel. you'll find me under MsIdril.
I love you, all, and until the next update!