Chapter Text
Passion is a nettle to be mowed frequently, if you want to rest on the grass.
The dark, stinking rooms of the Freys rat hole are filled with intercourse scenes that Jaime Lannister doesn't want to see.
Bronn leaves with two young maids, already touching one’s bottom and grabbing the other’s thin waist.
Lothar Frey pours a mug of ale over the large breasts pressed together of a servant to drink in the hollow.
Walder grabs the hand of his too young wife and forces her to fondle his cock, slapping her for refusing, until she, crying, indulges him.
Along the main hallway, a door is ajar and a black and greasy haired woman with a Frey-like nose is bent over a table, penetrated from behind by the head groom who shouts at her to shut up and obey her husband.
Jaime retrieves his cloak and sword, then he comes out of the keep, walking quickly; there is little light outside, the valley is already in shadow, not even the setting sun wants to be close to the Freys.
Seeing women abused or paid to offer their bodies always disgusts him.
There are faint torches and a lot of dark spots, sounds of passion chase him, moans and voices become an echo that spreads around every corner and down every step.
The soldiers' whores are sitting around the fires near the well, one leg bare, one breast uncovered, a coarse laugh to attract men.
Jaime ordered his men to camp outside the walls, mindful of how the Freys sold the King of the North for money and Riverrun.
He must pretend to believe in the loyalty of old Walder; Jaime is an important guest, the most comfortable bedroom has been prepared for him.
The Lord Commander's tent also has a good bed, as well as a table with the map of Riverrun still unrolled over it and chairs for the councils with his knights.
Jaime realizes that if all the Freys are drunk, he can sneak away for the night and sleep surrounded by his soldiers. A strange sensation torments him, a black shadow or an omen of death, the ghost of the killed Starks perhaps still hovers within the Twins’ walls.
The flames are dying in the courtyard because people are too lazy to add more wood; if Jaime passes close to the walls towards the stables he will go unnoticed and therefore he will be able to exit through the main gate which is also patrolled by a couple of his soldiers.
Better to be cautious with certain allies, his past experience in this case helps the young lion.
His stomach gurgles, Jaime doesn’t feel well. It is true that baskets of bread and plates full of vegetables came all together from the kitchen – impossible to alter all of them - and that the pork was roosted in the large fireplace in front of everyone, but from sad memories he knows well how easy it is to add poison to a dish or drink.
When the wine girl poured two cups from the same jug, the Frey patriarch drank, while Jaime simply raised his cup to return the false toast.
The wine girl had observed Jaime for a long time, with an almost insolent attitude, an arrogant sign of disrespect from a servant towards such an important character as the Kingslayer.
At the moment, the lion didn’t notice, he was too focused on his conversation with Walter and he bit his tongue not to indulge his strong impulse to insult the old pig.
The wine girl cannot have been responsible for the cramps Jaime is having.
He thrusts two fingers down his throat to vomit, he needs to quickly get rid of anything that belongs to the Frey world or he will become paranoid.
He immediately feels better, purified, he also empties his bladder by aiming - as a simple servant or soldier would do - at a pile of straw and horse excrements; he has probably also been exposed to the cold air, he would like to drink something to get rid of the bitter taste of vomit, but he has to reach his tent where he is sure to find some unadulterated wine.
Jaime discovers that he is being followed when he has shed the weight in his stomach.
He decides to go through a door near the stables, finding himself in a harness room full of objects stacked in bulk.
He would like to see better who is following him, but the pursuer has realized something and has deviated towards the centre of the court; from the way the figure moves, Jaime is quite sure she is a woman, he glimpses a thin bare arm.
After a few minutes of waiting, Jaime believes that the situation is calmer and resumes his path, looking for spots where the straw cushions his walk.
He is only a few steps away from reaching the corner of the main gate, when voices rise and Jaime turns to see that some people are arguing. Three bodies are lit in waves by the movement of the flames.
Two are certainly men, tall and robust: they don't wear cloaks, so Jaime thinks they come from the main hall. They say something out loud in a dialectal language that is difficult for him to understand.
The third figure is a petite woman, in the dim light a slice of her porcelain neck becomes visible.
She claims that the bag she holds is hers and she hasn’t stolen anything, she tries to escape the man who blocks her arms, both bare and thin; she vigorously struggles as she is dragged under a porch, closer to Jaime.
None of those present in the central court care what is happening, some are too busy with whores and wine, others - soldiers or peasants - are already sleeping lying on the ground.
Jaime crushes himself against the wall so as not to be seen, he doesn’t want to be involved in a quarrel and at the same time he understands the woman is being led against her will. Two against one is not fair.
Something inside him, the best part, the one that has always wanted to protect the Innocents, spurs him to put his hand on the hilt of Widow's Wail.
Before Jaime can intervene, one of the men stumbles, falling backwards and the woman pulls something out from under her clothes: Jaime can recognize an attack with a dagger.
The other man, sliced in his throat, brings his hands to the wound and falls to his knees while the blood gushes out, unstoppable.
The first one stands up, he sees Jaime and tells him to stay away, they just wanted the woman for the night and now he will kill her. He tries to pounce on the woman, but Jaime is faster and pierces him with his sword.
The man instantly dies, not even a moan leaves his mouth, everything happens very quickly.
The woman turns to Jaime, who recognizes her by the dress she was wearing while serving him wine.
They are in an unpleasant and complicated situation, Jaime doesn’t want any issues and moves the bodies so that they look like they killed each other, putting the wine girl's dagger in the hand of the man he disposed of. A clever eye would notice one of the wounds is from a sword, he must clean his as soon as he is inside his tent.
"Follow me if you want to live."
He orders her in a low voice so as not to be noticed; she nods and bends down to retrieve her bundle. It must be very important to cause two deaths.
Still walking close to the inner walls, they approach the drawbridge; Jaime grabs her by the waist and tells her not to speak.
They have to get out quickly, before anyone notices the corpses; soldiers Lannister and Frey are talking at the gate, someone has also brought them wine.
"Who’s there?" One of the Frey guards asks.
"The Lord Commander."
Jaime replies in an authoritarian voice.
A soldier in armour with rampant lions moves to the side to let him pass, but one of the Freys wants to get a better look at his companion. Jaime pulls the wine girl towards him and caresses her neck with his good hand.
"Don't worry, I will send her back tomorrow morning. I want to have some fun tonight."
The two Lannister soldiers line up between Jaime and the Freys, who realize they have to give way; Jaime can imagine their jokes about the former white cloak of the Kingsguard that will become dirty after the lion has bedded his prey.
Once they pass under the arch of the main gate and across the drawbridge, Jaime continues to keep the wine girl close to him.
"Were you following me? Don’t lie." He asks her, finding a hidden dagger tied to the inside of her right arm. She nods. "With two weapons. A little too much for a simple maid."
"M'lord, I must defend myself."
"And you do it all too well. You're interesting. And you're very strange if you trust me."
"What else can I do, Ser? I can't return there."
"Exactly. I am your only chance, for now. I'm not the most clever Lannister, but I’m sure you're not what you pretend to be."