CHAPTER 14 | TOO BOLD

THEY were up early the next morning. It was a long day of riding, but around dusk, they arrived at the gates of Harrenhal. "Riders coming through!" A man positioned at the entrance shouted. Laila was so tired of sitting on that damn horse that she was grateful to be pushed off by Rogar, but she did not like the way he handled her. She wrestled with his hold as he shoved her to the ground, alongside Jaime and Brienne. Rope still bound their forms, causing Laila to huff.

"On your knees," Rogar ordered, pushing on Jaime's back with his foot. Laila looked over at the Kingslayer, squinting her eyes at the light.

Locke slid off his horse at the sight of Roose Bolton, and stood behind the three battered prisoners. "Lord Bolton," he bowed. "I give you the Kingslayer."

He pushed Jaime's face into the wet mud, causing the Kingslayer to moan dreadfully into the ground. Laila closed her eyes, not being able to bear the sight.

"Pick him up, Locke." Roose commanded, to which Locke obliged. Jaime now stood on his own two feet. "You've lost a hand."

"No, my Lord," Locke grinned, holding the hand that he had hung on Jaime's shoulders. "He has it here."

Roose's nostrils flared. He stalked forward and snatched the hand from Jaime's person. He shoved it into Locke's hold and said, "Take this away."

"Send it to his father?" Locke suggested with an even bigger smile.

Laila and Brienne fought the urge to insult him.

"You'll hold your tongue, unless you want to lose it." Roose replied in a stern voice, before looking towards the females kneeling in the dirt. "Cut these women free. Apologies, my ladies. You're under my protection now."

Brienne stood as the rope was cut from her and Laila's bodies. "Thank you, my Lord."

Laila nodded her head, and then lifted her hand to feel it. The wound had opened again and blood began to seep through the bandage. Roose approached her, immediately holding her injured hand and looking it over. "You have an infected cut, my Lady. We will get you treated." His eyes met her own. "I'm sure Lady Catelyn will be happy to hear of your survival, Miss Laila."

Laila nodded, applying pressure to her hand. "This journey didn't particularly scare me anyways," she muttered sarcastically.

"Find suitable rooms for our guests," Roose ordered his troops. "We'll speak later."

Laila lifted her head, seeing only gray. The sky, the castle, the flags, the lines – all gray. The air smelt of burnt meat and expired dairy. Their feet squished in the wet dirt below. Everything seemed so ... disgusting. Laila couldn't complain exactly, especially with her smell and appearance at the moment. She couldn't wait to have a bath, if she was allowed one.

Roose spun on his heel and began to walk away. Jaime suddenly called out, "Lord Bolton."

The lord in question turned back. He stared at the dirty and battered man in front of him with suspicion. Mud dripped down Jaime's damp hair, along with dried blood covering his cheeks. "Is there word from the Capital?" Jaime asked.

"You haven't heard?" Roose's brow lifted in surprise. He brought a hand to his chest, walking closer to the Kingslayer. "Stannis Baratheon laid siege to King's Landing. Sailed into Blackwater Bay. Stormed the gates with thousands of men. And your sister ... How can I put this?" He sighed. "Your sister ... is alive and well. Your father's forces prevailed."

Jaime fell to his knees again, and he clutched onto Roose's arm for dear life. Laila reached out and hoisted him up with her small ounce of strength. Her arm locked around his as Roose said, "Ser Jaime and Lady Laila are not well. Take them to Qyburn."

Brienne was shoved in a different direction, causing Laila anxiety as they were moved away from each other. Laila and Jaime walked to the East wing of Harrenhal, while Brienne was sent West. Rogar and Locke pushed the two forward, and when Laila looked over her shoulder, she saw Brienne matching her pained expression.

•••

Lord Bolton's maester, Qyburn, was able to treat Laila's infection in a few minutes. He said she had arrived at the right time, and he treated the wound with herbs before wrapping it in a thick bandage for her. He looked like a small, hermit old man; the type who stayed inside for most of the day. He was cramped inside his small office, which was lit with various scented candles, but they didn't help to mask the blood smell.

Qyburn made Jaime sit down in a small, wooden stool. He carefully unwrapped his stump, while Laila watched on. She bit her nail as she waited for a response from Qyburn. She saw the old man's eyes widen at the sight of Jaime's wound.

"Will I die?" Jaime asked quietly, but loud enough for Laila to hear.

"No," Qyburn replied. "The corruption has spread. I fear it must be cut away. The safest course would be to take the whole arm off."

Jaime began to shake in his seat. "Then you'll die," he whispered.

Laila appeared at the Kingslayer's side. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "Surely, there is another option."

Qyburn continued to stare at the wound with interest. Jaime's eyes narrowed. "You're no maester. Where's your chain?"

Laila realized Jaime was correct. She thought she had seen one on him, but Qyburn did, in fact, where no chain.

"The Citadel stripped me of it. They found some of my experiments too bold." Qyburn answered, plucking a pair of tweezers from his table.

"Too bold?" Laila asked. "What were you doing, Ser?"

He chuckled the slightest bit. "That is something you do not need to know, my Lady." He turned back to the rotting stump, cocking his head to the side. "So, I can leave your upper arm, and make the cut at your elbow –"

Jaime cut the man off by grabbing his throat, and tightening his grasp. "I don't need my right hand to kill you," he seethed.

"Jaime!" Laila shrieked, gripping his shoulder so hard, her nails dug into the fabric. "You release this man right this –"

Jaime let go of Qyburn's neck, his head hanging low as he did so. He exhaled slowly, knowing his actions were wrong. Laila stared down at him in shame. "Now," she continued, "is there another way for this operation, Qyburn?"

The man's eyes lifted to her own, and he smiled. "I can take away the rotting flesh and try to burn out the corruption with boiling wine."

Jaime nodded his head, muttering, "Mm."

"With any luck," Qyburn said, "that will suffice."

Laila gave Jaime a small smile at the new conclusion, but Jaime continued his hard stare. He clearly wouldn't be happy with any solution. "You'll be fine," she soothed, rubbing his shoulder softly. "Thank you, Ser."

Qyburn nodded his head curtly. He started to pick out his necessary tools. "You'll need milk of the poppy."

Jaime shook his head. "No milk of the poppy."

"There will be pain," Qyburn reminded.

Laila shot her hand out to cover his face. "He'll take milk of the poppy."

"I'll scream," Jaime said, shoving Laila's hand out of his vision.

Qyburn frowned. "Quite a bit of pain."

"I'll scream loudly."

Laila glanced at Jaime. She wanted to yell and stomp her foot into the floor at his idiocy, but she only sighed in defeat. Jaime muttered to her, "Still envy me?"

"Not quite," she said with a shake of her head.

Qyburn hesitated before throwing a tight fastener over Jaime's stump. He stiffened it as much as he could to create pressure, causing Jaime to squirm. He began to cut out the rotting flesh, but even that made Jaime flinch. Laila bit her lip anxiously as Jaime groaned in pain. She rubbed at his shoulder again.

As Jaime exhaled quickly to reduce his pain, he instinctively grabbed for Laila's wounded hand. She didn't let go.