Chapter 17

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"That's all you got out of him?" Evelyn insisted.

The Hound bowed his head. The large man had grown fond of the three Stark girls and he felt slightly guilty that when he had interrogated Jaime's attacker, he got very little out of him. Zinzi had managed to tackle the man and deliver him to the guards who immediately locked him up. All the Hound managed to squeeze out of him was that his name was Yorgin White, and he was hired.

"But why would be hired to kill Jaime?" Evelyn asked. "It's been years since he became the Kingslayer."
The Hound nodded, "He wasn't after the Kingslayer ma'am."
Evelyn frowned, "What are you talking about?"
Silence passed between the two before the Hound spoke, "He was after you my lady. The only reason why your husband got injured was because he blocked the shot."
"So... it really was my fault," Evelyn whispered, barely audible but the Hound heard.

Reaching forward, he gently gripped her shoulders. "It was not your fault my lady. The Kingslayer blocked the strike because he cares about you and did not want you to be hurt. I promise I will try harder to get more out of the man. I'll try to find out who hired him and where he comes from. For now, you must pray that your husband will wake up."

"What if it ends up killing him... and he dies before even waking up?" Evelyn asked, feeling all life leave her body.
"The Kingslayer is a strong man ma'am," The Hound replied. "If he is still alive now, he'll live for many more years."
Evelyn nodded before silently leaving the prison, blindly walking. When she finally looked up, she found that she had come outside to the practice ring. There were several squires and knights practicing together. Evelyn headed to her room to grab her training clothes. Maybe sparring for a while would allow her to let some anxiety and anger out.

She paused after changing to see that Jaime had been laid on his back. The physician said that he should alter being on his back and stomach so as to not let him get stiff. The girl slowly approached him, looking down upon his peaceful face. During the many hours she had stayed by his side, she had managed to wash his face and comb through his hair, cleaning it as much as possible. She ran her fingers through his thick hair, traced his jawline with her finger and then back up into his hair.

"You promised me that nothing would happen. When I told you, I was afraid of what could happen to you... you promised. Then why are you the one in a coma when it should be me?"
Slowly bending down, she planted a kiss on his forehead, letting her lips linger there a moment before slowly standing up straight.

With a grunt of fury, the girl tore about the room changing into a more flexible outfit. When she finished, she grabbed her double swords and headed out the door with determination in her stride.

Arya, who had discovered boredom at its greatest when Sansa went off to flounce about with Joffrey, had gone on a walk to the stables. She had just arrived when she spied Zinzi and Lady laying near the entrance of the stables, their heads between their paws but their eyes open.

"Hey girls," the girl said, crouching down to pet them. "Where is Evelyn?"
The two wolves turned their eyes toward the hanger where the firewood was kept. Sure enough, Arya could hear her older sister hacking away at the poor piles of logs.

"Oh dear," Arya whispered. "She's not done that since we left home... unless she's upset. What happened?"
The wolves didn't reply so Arya stood up and headed in search of her sister. She found Evelyn in a leather and white cotton shirt that gave her more flexibility. She was breathing heavily but not even sweating as she drove the hatchet into each log before throwing them onto the pile. She never stopped her rhythm.... Swing, chop, throw, swing, chop throw....

"Eve," Arya called.

Evelyn looked her way but still didn't stop her rhythm.

"What happened?" Arya asked.

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