They were ragged, filthy, some bruised and others broken, but they were still alive in all the ways that mattered.
And so, one hostage at a time, the north falls further into my nephew's hands, Jaime reflected. Into my son's hands...
...
The wailing only intensified when Jaime informed each man of his fate. Wylis collapsed into a heap on the floor and wept in relief at the news that he would wind his way back to White Harbour, and though the others had more muted responses upon learning that the capital was their destination, the notion that they would be hostages of the king and not of the Mountain's men seemed nonetheless welcome, and many broke down into tears of gratitude.
He commanded them to sit at one end of the table, to sup with dignity and be silent. Their meal was simple fare, for the Mountain's men apparently had little use for cooks. And once it was done, Jaime began issuing his commands. The Mountain's men would be split up - that he could not trust them was now clear. A third would go with a few of his own men to see to the delivery of Ser Wylis to the Saltpans, where a Manderly ship would await, and another third would take the rest of the political prisoners down to the capital and present them before the king.
The final third would accompany him, their presence supplanted by a force of a hundred men from his own company who would hold Harrenhall in his trust. This third would be made of only the most savage, Jaime decided, save for Rafford. If nothing else they will make fine fodder for the walls of Riverrun, Jaime thought as he issued his commands. And breaking them up would surely lessen the risk for any further indiscretions, the kind the king was eager to put an end to.
Not that Jaime had any silly notions of putting an end to such savage habits. Such cruel men were not like to change. Yet with cruelty came cowardice, and under his watch their worst tendencies would be restrained under threat of harsh consequences.
That night Jaime slept with his sword at his side, satisfied at a day's work. The next morning he washed and dressed at dawn, and took advantage of the castle's rookery to write and send a few short messages back to the capital with news of his progress whilst Harrenhall was still quiet. Another raven went north, to inform his cousin at Riverrun of his intent to see to the siege himself. The very thought of meeting his Frey friends made him tense. The king's commands were clear enough, but Jaime had no desire to wind up like Robb Stark. And so another secret he'd have to keep till the time came to drop the pretence and start the slaughter.
But his cousin could be trusted with the truth, Jaime was certain. He could be sworn to secrecy. But what of Aunt Genna...?
Jaime sighed. That was a question for another day. Not long after he was done the noise returned as men set busily about making the necessary arrangements.
The four groups were arranged; three heading out - one north, one south and one west, with one staying back. Jaime made sure the last lot were all loyal Lannister men. That would be important to seeing Tommen's other plans through. Parting words were offered, some touching and others torturously mundane, and then Jaime sounded his horn again, impatient, and all the men were ahorse and riding out to do their duty. They rode for perhaps a little more than two days and made camp for three nights without incident, moving fast across rolling plains and fording several streams. Jaime made sure to keep them away from villages and towns.
The cot may have been worse for his back than a bed, but if that meant there would be no trouble than Jaime considered it a sacrifice worth making. The riverlanders had suffered their presence enough. If he could avoid bothering them, especially now that he had the Mountain's men in tow, then he would.
As it was, he had difficulty keeping the rowdiest men in line. Three had lost their heads by the time the relatively short march was over.
And so Darry hoved into view.
All around, the fields surrounding the castle were under the till. It was mostly women working the fields, Jaime noted, many of their sons and fathers and husbands and brothers lost to the war. Weeds were pulled by hand even as a number of ploughs were pulled by oxen as other women trailed, planting seeds every so often in the wake of the oxen and patting the earth flat. Seeds and ploughs paid for by the crown, Jaime did not doubt. Lady Amerei Frey would be that type of woman.
Just like Harrenhall, Jaime found the gates closed to him, looks of fear in the eyes of the women at the golden lion emblazoned on his armour. I have to get duller plate, he thought at first, but then thought better of it. With my sword-hand perhaps the lion of Lannister is all that stays the hands of all who surround me. Nevertheless, it was enough for the gatemen of Castle Darry to slowly swing open the doors when he blew his horn, and Jaime led his men yet again under the murder-holes.
Most stayed behind, making camp beyond the walls, but Jaime was not fool enough to wander into Frey hands without a fearsome guard. Within the walls, Jaime saw workmen flanked by crossbowmen and archers up on the ramparts, watching out of the corner of their eyes. The stones were blackened and some cracked. During the fighting Darry had been burned once and sacked at least twice, and the evidence of that was still all around, despite Lady Amerei's continuing efforts.
When he had finally arrived, only a lone maester emerged to greet him.
"Lord Commander, Darry is honoured at this... unexpected visit," he said. "I was under the impression you were headed to see to the siege at Riverrun."
"I am here on behalf of my king," Jaime simply pronounced, dismounting and producing from under his armour a crumpled version of one of the letters that Tommen had given him when's he'd first been given this fool's quest. Mayhap the Seven will be kind and this little delay will allow me to keep my oath to Lady Catelyn to never take up arms against her family. Jaime resisted the urge to shudder at the thought. If the Seven are kind I'll never have to face her again.
"Very well," the maester said after a moment's silence. "I know Lady Amerei will be pleased to see you, and wished to welcome you herself. In fact, she's seeing to the preparation of a feast in your honour. It is her hope that you will join her at the table this evening."
Jaime quirked an eyebrow in the style of his father. "A hot meal would be most welcome, but I do hope this feast is not paid for with the funds the crown so generously provided. I'd hate to have to tell His Grace that his generosity was being wasted on frivolities. Humble fare will suffice for me - no more than the daily meal of the lordling. I come with purpose, not for pleasure."
The maester nodded nervously. "Yet I trust you'd still like me to show you to your chambers?"
Jaime nodded. "And to a hot bath, if you would. The road has been long and hard and muddy and cold, and I think I can permit myself that much."
The maester nodded, and they set off through the halls of Darry, ending with his chambers. Jaime did not spend much time there, and instead allowed his companions to strip him and fill the tub as he lowered himself into the water. Pia blushed as she saw his naked flesh, and Jaime had to restrain himself as he was suddenly reminded of the lovesick young slut she had been when she'd first slipped into his bed and tried to seduce him.
Mercifully, she and all the rest left soon enough and Jaime was left alone in the water, letting his arousal slowly fade away. The prospect of so much time away from Cersei had taken it's toll on his self-control.
When he finally departed his room for the feast that night, he came dressed in fineries, though he left his whites and sword behind. His gilded hook glinted threateningly in the light of the lone hearth in the hall, it's edge still razor sharp.
...
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