A Vow Without Honor

Prologue - The Twins

On any other day, the look on Brienne's face would have entertained him, but his mind was elsewhere at the moment. There was someone waiting for him in the dungeons, a lone wolf, a vow waiting to be fulfilled. He'd be damned if they had come through this much only to be held up by the bickering of old men.

"You like to call me Kingslayer, now let the title do its work."

He strode toward the dais, cool and confident, as was his way. His left hand remained secured to his sword, though holding it across his body felt awkward as he moved. The stump hovered over the hilt as well. It must have made for an odd sight. He ignored the thought, determined to portray the Kingslayer once again, even if he had forgotten how.

Had they taken his hand or his mind?

Jaime stopped just behind...Walder was it? Frankly, he couldn't tell, and he didn't care to. They were all equally ugly and weasel-like.

"As interested as I am in your familial matters, would someone show me the kindness of promptly shutting up and showing me to the dungeons?" There was an edge in his voice, sharp and cold as ice. It brought a swift end to the argument, though the silence lasted longer than his patience cared for. "I'm more than happy to look for it myself, even if I have to tear this place down brick by brick."

One gulped. "Well, you see, Ser Jaime...your, uh..."

"Your lord father promised us the prisoners," Edwyn finished, giving the other Frey a hard look.

"I don't want all of them, just the Stark."

"She's a prisoner, same as the others. She was to be our father's new bride."

So he could call himself king, no doubt. 

Jaime felt his ghost fingers clench.

"Now Bolton wants her for his bastard."

Emmon snorted. "Too fine a deal for the wolf bitch."

Suddenly, the Frey found a sword to his neck. Jaime did not realize it was his until he felt the full weight of it on his outstretched arm. It had moved with the dexterity of his right, efficient and deadly, though if asked to repeat the motion, Jaime knew he would fail terribly. There was something about blinding rage that made the impossible happen.

"Speak of her like that again and Lady Joyeuse won't be the only Frey with a slit throat."

Edwyn paled. "You would dare draw against us in our home? Have you lost all sense?"

"No, just my hand and my patience. Now take me to the girl."

One of the Walders narrowed his eyes. "Might be we throw you in with her."

"I'm certain my father would be overjoyed to hear that. Tell me, how long do you think the Twins will last against the entire might of the Lannister army? A week? A month? Hard to tell really, but you will all die, that much I can promise." It was not a card he liked to play, using the power of his father, but he needed to get somewhere. Maybe if he were whole he might have tried something else, but he wasn't, and never would be again, not unless she was waiting for him with a new hand. "Take me to the girl, now."

. . .

Jaime hadn't thought any particular part of the Twins could be darker or danker than the last, but he supposed the dungeons would find some way. There were torches, but the continuous dripping from the walls and ceiling had all but snuffed them out, choking the air with smoke and leaving it difficult to breathe. Jaime had to squint to make sense of anything in the environment.