The Lions and the Wolves

Chapter 2: Highgarden

"Jaime!" Her panicked voice finally woke him. His eyes opened quickly, blinking a multitude of times as he sat up as fast as he could. His wounds from the previous day still aching through his body. But that was all forgotten as he stared up at his frightened sister. "Jaime there's someone coming this way." Urging worriedly, she kept looking up and around where they sat, still nestled in the roots of the angry tree that sheltered them through the night.

"Don't move, don't say a word." He whispered, sitting up as he tuned his ears into their surroundings too. She wasn't wrong. Getting to his feet, he held his abdomen for a moment, an attempt to gauge how he'd fair in combat if need be. He prayed the oncoming voices posed no threat. It still seemed so dark under the protection of the woods but the sun was definitely up. Beyond the treetops and dusty, polluted air. It was there somewhere, shining down on them. They lived another day.

"No, don't leave me here, please Jaime-" He silently motioned for her to hush her whispered pleas, his brows furrowed deeply. He hated every second of this, the helplessness he felt, the terrified look in her eyes, her tear-stained and dusty cheeks decorated with dried blood. Being a captive of Robb Stark's was nowhere near as agonising as this. Losing his hand was nowhere near as agonising as this. But at least they were together, as they were always intended to be. She watched him quietly, too afraid to even look around anymore. The voices were drawing nearer and nearer by the second, they belonged to men. Jaime gripped at the hilt of his sword, fully prepared to die if it meant protecting her and their unborn child. He'd found it laying next to Euron's dead body as they'd emerged from the rubble of the Keep, still coloured with his Ironborn blood. A sword he'd treasure forever now. Almost unsteady on his weakened legs, he moved around the tree, his feet taking him in the direction of the voices. He determined there was at least four of them, joking and laughing amongst themselves through the trees. He could see them now, armed with weapons but no armour. They were headed straight towards them with no sign of slowing. Not a care in the world between them. Jaime understood, he didn't care for innocents either but yesterday's events left even him feeling empty and numb. Millions burnt and charred in the streets. This Dragon Queen was no breaker of chains. She was a tyrant, a murderer. Mad just as her father was.

"Don't take another step." He warned abruptly, clearly startling the four men. His ears had served him well. They were barefoot, ragged and carrying as much wealth as they'd managed to salvage from the rubble of the Red Keep. Some of it he even recognised.

"Or what?" The oldest of the pack provoked. "There's four of us and only one of you. Warrior or not, you're a dead man." Snorting loudly, his bold comment invited his companions to laugh along. All but one joined in.

"That's not just any warrior." His reddened eyes fixated themselves upon Jaime's distinctive golden hand. "That's the Kingslayer." He swallowed nervously. "That's Jaime Lannister." The remaining three ceased their smiling but not for long.

"Kingslayer, yeah that's what they used to call him." The eldest remarked. "Once upon a time I'd have been afraid, but not now." He smirked, his yellowed teeth only emphasising his haggard complexion. "He's nothing but a cripple now." Not for the first time in his life, Jaime shifted uneasily in response to the comments. He could feel Cersei behind the tree, listening to them all jeering at him. He never wanted her to doubt him, ever again. And that started with killing these four men. Pulling his sword from it's sheath, he offered them a cocky smile. A Lannister trait he'd never shake.

"So what are you still waiting for?" Planting his feet into the ground he moved his weight, positioning himself at the ready. The men were eager enough to cut him down that their prized possessions were dumped onto the dampened earth of the woods, their swords and daggers drawn in a symphony of metal scraping metal. Still facing the opposite direction, hidden by the tree, Cersei could do nothing but listen to the clashing of swords and the grunting of men. Each sharp noise causing her body to jolt with fright. Her hand held at her small bump desperately willing her brother to come out triumphant as he usually did. She couldn't bring herself to move save rocking slightly as she sobbed her silent cries. No knowing of what would happen to her if he fell, what these men would do to her or with her. The unsettling sound of sword-fight grew less vast, only three swords battling now. Then two. Finally, after what felt like a life-time, it fell silent. The rustling of the trees overhead offered her some small comfort, the branches pulled themselves apart high up in the breeze and allowed a thin sliver of light to shine down, hitting her face. It warmed her for only a second as she allowed herself to breathe in this sweet bit of air, if it was to be her last breath she wanted it to be a peaceful one, for she did not know who remained behind her tree, the protector. Her chin quivered at the sound of movement, footsteps heading towards her as she held her breath. Her fingernails clawed at the thick root embedded in the ground beside her.