Updated 4/13/19: Edited for a smoother read. I would like to think the user Kyra for going through an editing Chapters Prologue to 21 here. Your efforts are amazingly helpful! Thank you so much!
Chapter 21
Jaime VI
Jaime stared across the ocean longing to be back on dry land. He had commissioned the captain of the boat he took to get to Lannisport to take him to the Reach as well. He once more had no more than ten soldiers and his squire Podrick to accompany him. He had also paid for use of the captain's cabin again and insisted that Pod stay with him, throwing a few blankets down on the floor.
The captain told him it would take two weeks to make it to the Reach. As far as Jaime was concerned, they couldn't reach land soon enough. The boat was swift, but small, so there was no feasible way to do any sword fighting on deck without injuring someone else. He also refrained from writing anymore letters on the ocean, since the bobbing of the waves caused his already tenuous scrawl to look even worse. There was little else to do other than talk and Jaime had never been the verbose sort, so he spent most of his time keeping a close eye on Pod.
The boy was flabbergasted by the sea and couldn't keep himself from gaping childishly over the side of the boat. It was behavior his father would have scolded him for, but he merely smiled at Pod's antics. He hadn't known Podrick particularly well when he convinced Brienne to take him with her, but apart from his loyalty, he had been well known for bounding optimism and a 'magical dick' as Bronn had put it to him. After seeing that bounding optimism so brutally stripped away by the cold, harsh war of the Long Night, it eased Jaime's soul to see that optimism reborn and he wasn't about to squash it. They'd need it in spades when the Long Night came again.
The first night on the boat, Jaime fretted. He had to tell Pod about his seizures. It was one thing for the king to know, but Ned Stark and Winterfell's maester knew too. Even as much as he trusted Pod, it was inevitable that the more people they included in this secret, the quicker it would become common knowledge. At the very least, Ned and Maester Luwin didn't know about his ability to see sounds again. Somehow that didn't feel like a detail he could omit from Pod. He couldn't think of a reason why he couldn't, but his gut told him to be upfront about this.
He had been fortunate up to this point. His stay in Casterly Rock had been somehow revitalizing. The headaches that had plagued him a good portion of the sailing to Lannisport had all but disappeared while he stayed at the Rock. Despite that first day, all the rest of the stressors that had fed his initial anger - his Lord father defying orders by failing to march and not imprisoning Gregor Clegane - had gone after the second day. All of his urgent letters he'd needed to write and had received were taken care of early. The only things he had to concern himself with was getting new outfits tailored for his visits to the Reach and doing morning training sessions with Pod.
Just as in the previous lifetime, Pod suffered from a lack of education regarding virtually anything. Despite having a house name, even of a lesser branch, his family seemed to have been treated only slightly better than servants. Ser Lorimer, the knight he was formerly squired to, either hadn't bothered expounding on his swordsmanship or had been a poor teacher. Podrick's stance was wrong, the grip he had on the sword was wrong, and he had no strength. The first day had almost been embarrassing as he'd had been forced to correct the grip on his sword and his feet multiple times. The few people who had been left after the army marched laughed at his incompetence until Jaime glared at them and then they made themselves busy.
It was slow and unlike Jon - even factoring in Jon's years of experience fighting - he was not a particularly quickstudy, but he was eager and optimistic all the same. Slowly, very slowly, he was getting things right. They were doing very slow fights so that Podrick could follow the movement and react. When they were not pretend fighting, Jaime set Podrick to going up and down the stairs of Casterly Rock until the boy's legs shook and then he sent him on slow laps around the training grounds carrying heavy crates to build up his arm strength.
It annoyed Jaime that they couldn't continue their slow fights on the boat, but he did his best to keep his exercises, forcing him to do push ups and, where allowed, clambered up and down the rigging to hone his reflexes.
Podrick was suitably worn out by the time they retired for the night. He just about threw himself onto his bedroll on the floor, hugging a rolled up blanket to his head to serve as a pillow.
Jaime scanned the hallway carefully and put his ear to the wood of the ship, hoping to catch where everyone was. Save for two crewmembers on the deck, all seemed quiet. He closed and locked the door to their room and then nudged Pod with his toe. "No, Pod, I need you awake for this discussion."
"Apologies, My Lord," Podrick said, his voice muffled against the fabric of his makeshift pillow. He kicked off his blankets and sprang up to his feet like they weren't shaking from soreness.
Jaime regarded him closely for a moment and then said, "Pod, what I'm about to tell you is known only by two people: myself and the king."
Podrick's eyebrows nearly vanished into his hair as he stared at Jaime looking pale, but then he set his mouth into a determined line and nodded. "I swear I won't tell anyone about this secret."
"You will not tell my father, you won't tell the Seven if they appear and demand it of you."
"I promise, My Lord. Your secret's safe with me."
Jaime breathed and then nodded. He sat down on the bed and tapped the scar on the left side of his face. "You see this, Podrick? A mammoth bear clobbered me when I was out on a hunting expedition with the then King Robert. It took seventy-five stitches to set it right. But there are some injuries that just don't heal."
"It's amazing you're alive," Podrick breathed, then blushed. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn, My Lord."
"That thrice-damned bear hit me so hard that when I woke up, I could see sounds."
"I...I don't understand," Podrick said, his usual green voice venturing into lime green to show his nerves.
"It's difficult to explain. Basically, anything that makes a sound, I can now see ripples in the air where that sound is. Every sound generally has a color associated with it. If it's a natural sound, like the waves out on the ocean or an animal cry, the ripples are usually white. It turns black the harsher it sounds to my ears. However, human voices usually have color to them and the colors are associated with a mood. I can tell what mood someone's in just based on what the color of their voice shows and it always shows. You can't hide your state of mind from me."
"Wh-what does my voice look like?"
"Your voice is a light green. Right now, it's a little yellow because you're nervous," Jaime replied and once again Podrick blushed. "You don't need to be afraid around me."
"I just...want to do you proud, My Lord. I know I'm no good with the sword."
"You will be, Pod. It just takes time. Be patient. Don't worry about what other people think. You're my squire. Even if your cousin hadn't died, I wouldn't have accepted you if I thought you wouldn't amount to anything. Have confidence in yourself. You're still young."
"Unfortunately, being able to see colors comes with a price. I suffer from something called seizures. If ever I am overly stressed sometimes I...pass out and shake. I believe the maester I saw described it as convulsions. This is where you come in."
Podrick was looking more alarmed by the minute. "What would you like me to do, My Lord?"
"Whenever I have seizures I lose control of my body. It's possible that I might vomit during these times. I need you to make sure that I'm turned on my side so that I don't choke and die. Do you understand?"
Podrick's mouth was hanging open and his eyes roved the room as he cast around for something to say. Finally he said, "H-How will I know when you're going to have a seizure?"
"It's important to me that this not get out, so I will likely plead illness and stay in my room on bad days. Usually, it starts as a headache and it gets worse and worse as it goes throughout the day," Jaime replied. "Your job will be to make sure I don't die and make my excuses."
"Yes, My Lord. I won't let you down," Pod said, his voice once more filled with giddiness although he did his best to keep a stoic expression.
"Now you can go to bed. Don't mind my nightmares," Jaime said. The nightmares were yet another private aspect that Jaime hadn't wished to share with Pod, but that was a small detail compared to seeing sounds.
The next week on the ocean consisted of the same routine. They would wake up from a rather fitful night due to Jaime's dreams, break their fast of dried fruit and a hard bread, Jaime would put Pod through his paces, then they'd break for lunch, Jaime gave Podrick the afternoons off, ate a dinner as equally small as the breakfast, and then go to sleep. It was driving Jaime mad, not having anything to do, but it would unfortunately be considered undignified if the Hand to the King decided to climb the rigging.
One night, Jaime was sleeping fitfully, and a dread he had only ever felt during the Long Night had settled on his mind. He whimpered and shuddered as Cersei straddled him once more, but this time he was able to fight and he struck out at her, wrestling for control, and then finally managed to turn her over so that he was on top. Quite suddenly a knife was in his hand he was stabbing her. Warm blood spattered his face and soaked his hands, but he couldn't seem to stop. Cersei's beautiful golden hair turned scraggly and gray and her clear, pale skin became pitted and rotted. Blue eyes burned at him and she screeched an inhuman sound and lunged at him. The knife had disappeared once more and he fought.
"Hold him!"
"He's a strong bastard!"
"He's still asleep!"
Jaime's eyes shot open. The cabin was pitch black and he couldn't see anything, but a shape darker than the rest of the surroundings loomed over him. He stilled for a moment and a hand grabbed one wrist and tried to loop a thick rope around it. That galvanized Jaime and he reached under the pillow with his free hand and drove a knife to the hilt into the man.
"Gaaah!" The man clutched at the knife, but as his body fell the knife slipped free and Jaime was on his feet once more.
"He's awake," another gruff voice called out and the sound was a rather dark and threatening red.
Even now that he was awake, he could still see nothing more than shadows on shadows. He could hear Ser Arthur Dayne barking at him from a far away memory: Always know what you're striking at! In the darkness, he couldn't see Pod and he squinted at the other figures.
"We need him alive," one of the figures called out in orange ripples; he was attempting to be threatening and firm, but by the shaky way the ripples issued from him, he was unsure.
"Pod," Jaime voiced tentatively, his own voice bubbling up before him in a light yellow. The two figures lunged at him and at the lack of any response about Pod, Jaime lashed out with the knife.
There was more screeching and violent red ripples shot through the room, bouncing off the walls. The other figure tackled him to the floor and they rolled around in the tangle of blankets that used to be Podrick's bed. He could feel the rough texture of a beard and smell the sour taste of alcohol on his breath. The other man was desperately trying to grab the hand with the knife, but Jaime was too quick and he jabbed at the figure, stabbing continuously much like in his dreams. Something wet and warm splashed on his face and he wondered for a moment if it was spit or blood, but then pushed the body off him and sprang to his feet once more.
He glanced around the room and was hit on his shoulder, jarring the knife and sending it clattering to the floor. A hand, wet and sticky, grabbed him by his neck and squeezed. Jaime gasped and reached up to claw the arm away, desperately struggling for air. He bent down and spun, throwing himself back hoping to land on a solid surface. He finally found it and smashed the man behind him into the wall until his grip weakened, then he ripped it away, and immediately grabbed for the man behind him in a headlock and twisted until he heard a telltale cracking noise. He let the body hit the floor and staggered against the wall, reaching out to it for a purchase, and sucked in air like a drowning man.
Jaime allowed himself only a few seconds to feel steady and then he leapt across the room where his sword had been lying against the bed. For a moment, he thought it had been stolen, but then he felt the scabbard on the floorboards and scooped it up. He pulled the sheath off and ripped open the door.
"Pod?"
"Stop right there, Kingslayer, or the boy gets it!" A croaking voice called out to him in dark purple hues. He held Pod in front of him, bound and gagged, with a knife to his throat.
Pod looked at him with wide eyes and shook his head.
Oh, Pod, is there any warrior braver than you? Jaime thought. Perhaps Brienne, wherever she was.
Jaime quickly assessed the situation. Although the moon was merely a crescent, it provided enough light that he could see a dozen shapes scattered about the deck, all with spears, cutlasses, or hatchets at the ready. Ironborn, he thought with a scowl. He hadn't imagined them daring enough to attack a vessel bearing the Lannister flag. A messenger to sing the Rains of Castamere is in their future. The two guards that patrolled the deck at night lay unmoving. He didn't see a single one of his soldiers and if he were a betting man, he suspected he'd find their corpses still abed.
"Don't hurt him," Jaime ordered holding up his free hand. "I will drop my sword. You will leave the boy be."
Podrick shook his head, but Jaime shook his head back. His greatest fear at the moment was that he'd toss his sword and they'd slice through Pod's throat anyway, but he had little in the way of choices. Hesitantly, he tossed his sword overboard and winced as he heard it splash.
The man holding Pod continued to hold his shoulder in a death grip and he shouted to his comrades, "Cuff 'im!"
Jaime didn't struggled as his hands were tied behind his back, but he studied the man behind him carefully as an idea coalesced into his head. The same idea that had gotten him his hand chopped off, but if it meant saving Pod, then he was willing. "Podrick there is of the venerable House Payne. As you might imagine, he's the future of that house. They'd be willing to pay a handsome fee for his return," Jaime called out. The man tying his hands deliberately tied them too tight and pulled at the muscles in both of his shoulders. Then they roughly dragged him and led him to the plank that crossed from his ship to theirs. Their ship was only slightly bigger, so the walk had only a small incline. He almost slipped and fell into the sea as he focused not on the board in front of them, but on the conversation behind him.
"We got the Kingslayer. Now kill the boy an' feed 'im to the fishes. It's not 'im we need."
"What am I always tellin' ya, Dirk? Ye don't have vision. This boy here is the child of an important house. We could make a pretty penny off o' 'im."
"I'm not like to listen to what the Kingslayer 'as to say."
"My man in King's Landing might have somethin' different to say. 'E's already paid me handsomely for the Kingslayer. Upon delivery, he'll pay you and maybe throw in a little extra for this boy. He's comin'!"
The man walking Jaime shoved him and forced Jaime below deck, but the last bit of conversation piqued his interest. Someone had put a bounty on him. It could be Renly but he rather doubted that. He barely noticed when they cut his bonds loose and closed a cell door behind him. He sat in the corner pensively. There were only two men who were likely to arrange a bounty for him and one was far more likely to take the risk of angering Lord Tywin: Petyr Baelish.
A dull anger started to brew inside Jaime as he contemplated and the more he thought about it, the more he was certain that Littlefinger had to be behind this. Who else but Varys and Littlefinger would know about his voyage on the sea? Who else would be able to make the arrangements? Who else would dare to anger a lion?
"My Lord, are you well?" Pod asked, his face ashen.
This jogged Jaime from his thinking and he did his best to try to contain his anger, but going by the look of shame on Pod's face, he'd done a poor job of it. "Fine, Pod. How are you? They didn't hurt you?"
"N-no, My Lord. I wanted to fight, but I woke up with a knife to my throat. You were tossing and turning in your sleep. I tried to shout, but they clapped a hand over my mouth. I-I'm sorry."
"You did well, Pod. Even I couldn't have fought my way out of that. A warrior has to know when to pick his fights," Jaime replied in a dull voice. "Don't risk your life like that for me again, do you understand?"
"But, My Lord..."
"As much as I value your loyalty, it's not worth your life."
But Pod just stared at him blankly. "I could never abandon you. And I won't."
Jaime tried to show his anger now, but he felt a smirk twisting his face instead.
They both heard a strange sucking noise and Jaime leapt to his feet to peer out the tiny porthole in his cell and felt his stomach drop. They were scuttling the ship. He watched it for a moment before sinking to his knees in despair. Aemon's harp was still on that ship. It would be at least another week before his absence was noticed, and the chance of securing the Tyrell's alliance was shrinking, leaving Aemon to flounder.
He slumped against the wall of the cell but turned his face up to the ceiling, closed his eyes, and made a silent prayer: I know you bastards are listening. If you want us to be ready for the Long Night, then you better make sure Aemon gets those allies. And spare Podrick Payne.
