The story of Eddard Stark's eldest daughter Liya Stark.
For those asking, I removed the dire wolves for a reason. They're awesome but I couldn't seem to incorporate the into the story
"He isn't well my Lord, is there a maester that can help him" Liya pleaded
Lord Bolton eyed her actions, a Wolf aiding a wounded Lion? Apparently, miracles were still possible "We don't have an official maester, but Qyburn should do"
Liya frowned at his words, but she hoped that this Qyburn could help him in any way. Two of Lord Bolton's men took Ser Jaime from them taking him away. Liya followed behind, ignoring Brienne's request to follow her, she didn't want to let Ser Jaime go in there all by himself.
The three of them were settled in a dark room with only a small fire flickering, Ser Jaime sitting opposite of the supposed maester of this castle. The dirty linen was carefully removed, sometimes taking some of the skin still attached to it. Liya looked upon it from behind, but the sight wasn't good.
Qyburn suggested taking the whole lower arm, but the knight immediately protested for him to spare as much as possible. Instead, Qyburn decided on cutting the rotting flesh and burning the corrupted skin with boiling wine. To her surprise, Ser Jaime didn't want to take the Milk of the Poppy either and neither she nor Qyburn could convince him otherwise. Though immediately as the former maester started, his screams filled the room.
Liya grimaced at the sound and the sweat that was starting to form on his forehead, if he would catch a fever things would start to look even grimmer than they already did. Ser Jaime thrashed around trying to escape his pain and binds somehow.
"Girl!" Qyburn suddenly spoke "keep him down, I need him still" Liya nodded quickly and took her chair closer to Ser Jaime.
She thought of how her mother soothed her when she was sick or in pain. Liya remembered the time that she had a severe stomach ache that had almost lasted seven days. Her mother had held her in an embrace, covering her stomach with her warm hands while speaking soothing words or a song in her ear.
Quickly she wrapped one arm around Ser Jaime, keeping him firmly against the back of the chair. Her other arm circled the other way around with her hand keeping his head from turning. Liya gave a quick nod to Qyburn, letting him know she had him tightly in her arms. She could see the rise and feel the fall of Ser Jaime's chest quicken as Qyburn approached his stump with the knife again.
"Listen to my voice" Liya started just like her mother always did "It will be over soon, I promise" Ser Jaime's body stiffened as Qyburn again started to cut into his flesh. Liya questioned herself on what to say next, she couldn't use the loving words of her mother. So instead, she settled on softly humming an old Northern hymn.
The knight screamed a few times more but after a few hours, only groans of pain escaped him. Liya could feel his shirt slowly damping with his sweat. Ser Jaime's breathing had turned more ragged in the last hour and with her hand, she could feel the rise of heat on his forehead.
"He's developing a fever" Liya quickly said "he won't last another day if we don't stop now"
Ser Jaime looked at her face as she spoke these words, his eyes starting to fill with dread and a slight flicker of fear. Qyburn instead shook his head at her.
"I can't quit now girl. I need to close the wound, otherwise, he'll die even quicker from catching another infection. The reason he's here in the first place" The former maester grumbled and turned to boil another batch of wine on the fire.
"Die?" Ser Jaime spoke softly through his chapped lips
Liya quickly turned to him shaking her head, although she was mostly trying to convince herself that the knight could pull himself through this fever. Somehow she felt tears pricking behind her eyes as she looked upon Ser Jaime. He was looking straight ahead, calm and collected even in this state as if already accepting his fate. A wry smirk formed on his face and turned his head back to her, looking into her eyes.
"At least I'll die looking into the eyes of a beautiful woman" He spoke to her
Wonderful, he'd turned delirious now too, Liya sighed at him but took this cheeky nature as a good sign, but
A grimace fell on her face as Qyburn slowly approached with the boiling pot of wine, she knew what would follow. Qyburn undid the straps on Ser Jaime's right arm and Liya quickly stood up from her seat and steadied Ser Jaime as he almost fell over. The former maester quickly took this opportunity and dunked the wounded part of Ser Jaime's arm into the boiling pot. As if awoken by a nightmare Ser Jaime's eyes sprong open and screamed for all Harrenhall to hear while trying to pull his hand out of the pot. Both Qyburn and Liya could only keep him down for a few more seconds.
"It burned good enough," The maester said inspecting the now fiery red wound with still some sizzling flesh
Jaime felt his heart beating loudly in his chest, by the gods, he'd never felt this exhausted. He slumped back in the chair, his damp shirt sticking to his chest while beads of sweat rolled down his back and forehead. The extreme pain had somehow awoken him slightly, pulling him out of his almost unconscious and delirious state from the fever. A satisficing feeling of coldness on his forehead made him turn his eyes slowly to the woman next to him that was wiping the sweat off his face with a cold rag.
Jaime connected his blue eyes with her stormy greys, they'd drawn him in from the first time they'd locked with his. He thought back on how he'd always found the colour grey dull, sober and emotionless. But looking into her stormy eyes, he found the colour more entrancing than any other.
~
As always,
Thank you for reading,
Love,
Ann
A/n: we'll get to the bath scene next time
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