BEING RE-WRITTEN - тнe lιon and тнe wolғ |jaιмe lannιѕтer|

Aftermath

"Eliana Stark is not guilty," The Hand of the King declared, but Catelyn barely heard him, all she saw was her daughter falling through the air in slow motion, and not even the entirety of the Lannister guard could have kept her from her daughter.

She bolted through the crowds, seeming immune to their snide whispers and sniggering at her daughter, elbowing and kneeing men and women to eliminate them from her path, desperately as she tried to weave through.

Jaime caught Catelyn's eyes, spotting the dread and fret flickering across her face, as she nodded in the direction of her daughter.

Heeding her trepidation and haste, Jaime surged forward finding himself unable to retain his apprehensiveness, sprinting and knocking away the men with his armoured chest and pointed elbows, not caring if they hollered in pain at the unforeseen attack upon them from behind. He had not run in such a fashion for a long time.

Bringing up the rear, Tyrion and Pod struggled behind Catelyn as they also attempted their way through the crowd - though Pod was doing the pushing and shoving rather than Tyrion, given his height and weakness when concerning the matter of aggression.

Though when they all managed to part the crowd to see Eliana, all four stopped in stupefaction at the state she'd landed herself in; all bloodied and beaten, not looking at all herself. Her lip was rounded with a pulsating bruise; on her cheek sat ripped skin, torn by the sheer force of Osmund's backhanded business. Then there were her ribs, she sat there wheezing like a dying peasant, meaning her ribs were either cracked or broken.

She was disarray, complete mishmash and chaos, falling into shambles before their very eyes.

Sparing his brother a look, Jaime observed the curt nod and soon he found himself starting forward once more but this time to find himself at the side of his lady. He curled her arms beneath her back and legs, lifting her, cradling her against his chest... enjoying the feel of her against him once again, being reminded all too well of their night at Harrenhal, only that time she wasn't quite as naked.

"Can you carry her?"

Jaime looked around for the voice, surprised as a warm hand gripped his shoulder. He met the cyan eyes of Catelyn Tully once more but no hostile lurked beneath their depths, only worry for her daughter's life. He knew Cersei was watching him as was his father, but he cared not.

He nodded hastily.

"Come on, brother, we need to get her to Qyburn." Tyrion complained, clapping his hands together for him to hasten. "Now."

However, before they could journey any further to take her away from there, horns sounded, followed by the unmistakable sound of marching. "Your Grace!" A small handful of Gold Cloaks shuffled towards where Joffrey stood, though their heavy woolen cloaks slowed them somewhat.

He rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by their sudden interruption considering his recent defeat at adding another head to his growing collection. "What do you want... a treat? It's over, we lost!" He sneered, his face turned violet with discomfort as he regarded his uncle carrying the Stark girl in his arms.

"It's the Dornish, Your Grace... they've sieged the Red Keep."

Despite being incapable of summoning such strength, his words were enough to rouse her from her drunken slumber to release herself of Jaime's arms and drop to the ground. If Oberyn was there in King's Landing, she needed to find him. Steadying her hands, Eliana's concentrated on her balance and breathed deeply before she started in the direction of the Red Keep, knowing that a pride of hungry lions were prowling right behind her.