CHAPTER 1 | SPIRIT

WAR had left Laila Ryswell felling indefinitely numb.

She had seen a lot; too much, some would say. Always being at Catelyn Stark's side during the War of the Five Kings left Laila with memories that she'd seldom to forget. Why was she punished with them? She had been a handmaiden for years, and that wasn't necessarily her punishment, but more so that she would forever be plagued with war-filled memories due to the persistence of the Starks. In some ways, she admired it.

Sometimes, she would think of her past, or all she had seen of this war as she wrapped her hair in braids. She would weave her olive-toned fingers through the strands, trying to hide the insecurities her thick hair gave. Her long, dark tousles would become knotted and ratty, but in a sense, that was what war did to Laila Ryswell. It left her feeling ratted, and her stomach would turn into knots.

Laila frequently resided with the other handmaidens in the camp. She didn't like to listen to them much, but she did take a liking to speaking with a woman named Selene. It was nice to talk to someone who shared her interests, and she, too, was working for someone close to the Starks. Laila remembered that she was the handmaiden to the new Queen in the North.

It was difficult to speak to the other handmaidens. Laila thought they were very self-centered, or idiots, for that matter. It had been an extreme victory for the Starks to capture Jaime Lannister and keep him as a prisoner of war, but the other handmaidens seemed to think of him as a slab of meat. "What a man of substance," she heard them say. It made Laila want to roll her eyes.

She had passed by his crate often, more of the times that she had to carry buckets of water for Lady Stark's bath. Sometimes they'd meet eyes, but most of the time, Laila was staring at him in fear. Mud and bruises coated his face. He hadn't bathed in too long, and he reeked of despair. Laila found it hard to understand why the handmaidens found him so beautiful. Both his appearance and personality were ugly.

They all spoke the same about Robb Stark, which Laila found more repulsive. Gods, this man was now married, and they went on gossiping about his manly figure. Laila didn't know if his wife, Freya Greyjoy, loved him the way a wife should, but nevertheless, he was bound to her by law. No other women should have the right to speak of him in such a suggestive manner.

Pushing Laila away from her own thoughts was hard, but she found solace in walking around the war camp. There were soldiers hustling around left and right, but it was better than striding around a camp littered in corpses. The scent of burning wood was near, and Laila took it in like fresh air. Up ahead, Laila caught sight of Lady Brienne sitting in front of a bonfire. Her armor hung heavy on her body, but Brienne wore it despite the weather around them. Laila liked that about her, as well as many other things, which was why she was glad Catelyn invited her to join them when leaving the Stormlands.

She had a sullen expression on her face when Laila approached her. She stared at the flames with an odd tension in the air. Laila sat down beside her on the wet grass, asking, "What are you thinking about?"

Brienne hesitated. She then replied, "What have I gotten myself into?" She stared down at her gloved hands. "I don't know any of you, and yet I feel an overwhelming sense of trust."

"You devoted yourself to Lady Catelyn. You must trust us somewhat." Laila said, nudging her in the side. Brienne didn't feel it through the armor. "If you feel like a stranger, then what would you like to know?"

She didn't receive an answer.

"Alright, I'll go first." She sighed, clasping her hands together. "As you know, my name is Laila Ryswell. I was born and grew up in the Rills, which is bordered by the Stony Shore, the Barrowlands, and the Wolfswood. Although, my father and I left, due to –"

"I think I've heard enough."

Laila's eyes went the bonfire in front of them. "Do you not like to talk about your feelings?"

The two watched a few soldiers pass as Brienne asked, "Is it that obvious?"

Laila laughed softly. Her vision left the fire to stare at Lady Brienne. She squinted because of the sparks. "Are you sad because of Renly? You seemed very loyal to him."

"Everyone seems to think they know so much of Renly," Brienne scoffed, "but they know nothing. I knew him and he knew me."

Laila shifted at the awkwardness. "It was hard to witness what we saw," she replied. "I don't know much about magic, or religion, but what we saw? That was out of a fairytale. We had seen Renly Baratheon murdered by a ... shadow. Someone wanted him dead, so shouldn't we be doing something about that?"

"We're in the middle of a war. There's no time to dwell on ..." Brienne's voice traveled off, leaving Laila to loft a brow.

"On what?"

Brienne said nothing.

"Why aren't you saying anything?"

She looked down, close to where Laila sat. "Because if I say it, then that means that it really happened."

Laila stood and put her hand on Brienne's armored shoulder. She didn't continue the conversation. This war was making a mess of them all, and they all needed to be mature to survive it. Why couldn't the times be simpler, like how they were in Winterfell?

•••

Cersei Lannister watched her cousin quake in fear before her. Alton Lannister delivered Robb Stark's terms to her, and it left her in a fit of laughs. They stood outside the gates of the Red Keep, and Cersei eyed Alton carefully. She held a glass of wine that was half-empty and had a small group of Lannister guards situated around her. The paper of terms was old and battered.

Robb Stark's terms were ... well, what could she say? They sounded like the kind of terms that came from a boy too young for war. If he thought this war was going to end with his sisters healthy and back in his arms, then he was truly naïve.

"Well," Cersei chuckled, "I admire his spirit."

Alton stared at her with worried eyes.

Cersei looked back down at the paper. She was suddenly reminded of Jaime – her twin, her lifeline – and how badly this war was going to end. Would she ever get her lover back? Anger burned within her soul, and it showed when she viewed back at her cousin.

Jaime was going to return to her – no matter what. She'd kill every last one of her enemies to get him back. She'd kill every Stark, every Umber – gods, she'd even kill that damn Greyjoy bitch to have Jaime again. The yearning for his touch never ceased. She knew being alone while he was off at war was hard, but she didn't know that she'd have to wait longer.

Robb Stark wanted peace? Fuck the peace. Fuck the kingdom. Fuck the army. She'd have war. The North can have their freedom all they wanted, but what they couldn't have was her fucking brother.

"Do you accept his terms?" Alton asked after a brief pause. "I must have him receive your response."

She laughed. How tired and naïve war had made her cousin. How dare he even think her to belittle her dignity that easy. No, she would not accept these goddamn terms. What she would accept is her brother given back.

And that was when Cersei Lannister ripped the paper of terms in half.

•••

A/N: So this story is going to move kinda fast, and that's only because of how Seasons 2 and 3 go for Jaime's storyline. I'm not sure how many chapters I'm estimating in total, but I'm not predicting that it will be in the 40s like most of my GoT stories are. This story is mainly just to keep myself writing while I wait for Season 7 to start so I can finish Book III of "Stranger" lol.

Book I of this story won't have many chapters, because it's starting on Episode 7 of Season 2, I believe. Book II will have more chapters though! I hope you guys won't mind the fastness of this, because I'm very excited! The banter between Brienne, Jaime, and Laila is gonna be gOOD FAM