You stumble over fallen trees and rotted trunks, sprinting as fast as possible to get away from the danger. You hold your left arm tight against you, trying to stop the sticky, rusty blood from pouring out of your frail body.
You'd been imprisoned, tortured, and released into the wilderness to be hunted all because you were at the wrong place at the wrong time. You had been picking flowers in the woods, yes, it had been late, but you are always safe in this part. The dandelions begin to bloom, and you love to braid them and make crowns. You had been having a grand time, until you noticed a group of men approach you. They all wore Lannister soldier uniforms, were covered in blood, and had a hungry look in their eyes. You had said nothing at the time, because you were too frightened to move.
At first they stood still, until they noticed no one else was coming to help you. They attacked, striking you in the head which immediately knocked you out.
You woke up tied to a wooden chair with a scratchy length of rope. A trickle of blood ran down your forehead, nose, and all the way to your chest. They starved you for days until the length of rope fell loosely against your skin.
They tried to hurt you, but they soon realized that they would be injured trying to even reach your ropes.
As a final torture, they decided to play a game. They released you into the woods again; however, they were hunting you with bows and arrows. They wanted to kill you for your rebellion.
You had gotten a decent distance away when you felt the first arrow graze your leg. It had been almost nothing, a small scratch that required almost no mending; however, the second wound was different. The arrow pierced clean through your skin, and you held your bleeding arm sternly to stop the loss of blood.
You now hide behind a tree, waiting to hear the thicket of leaves rattle to signal an approaching man, but you hear nothing. This worries you, they were right behind you. You grasp onto the familiar rough bark for some kind of touchstone in your despair, and decide to run again. You push roughly against the base of the tree and head towards a large group of trees. You can zig zag through with little interruption of arrows. You do so effectively, and hear nothing as you stop to catch your breath.
The wind whistles through your long hair, and you bend over to restore air to your lungs. You're dehydrated, beaten, and malnourished. They won't be far behind you soon. And you don't want to be found.
Suddenly you hear a cascade of footsteps coming a few yards away, and hear the shouting and jeering of your torturers.
You decide to sprint as a last hope to survive. You smell the familiar scent of smoke and break through a series of bushes and thorns, severely cutting your entire body as you race from the men, and fall into your face in what looks like a start of a campground.
You look up momentarily to see none other than Jaime Lannister, his golden, long hair glistening in the sunset as he wears an expression of shock. There are many men surrounding him, raising their weapons at you. You hear the crashing of leaves as the men are near approaching. You scramble quickly on the ground as you hold onto Jaime's leg, clutching it with a cry as you shut your eyes.
You see your torturers eyes find you as they release a laugh, only to quickly shut their mouths as they see Jaime's expression of anger at your cries of fear.
"What is going on here?" Jaime commands, looking down to you, still clutching his leg to your body.
You point to the men. He takes in your bloodied appearance, the men holding the weapons, and frowns.
"What do you think you are doing? Dishonoring a girl and the Lannister name like this? You are no soldiers of this house. Get out, before I execute you on the spot.
At this, the men walk away into the darkness of the woods.
Jaime looks to you and helps you up to your feet.
"What's your name?"
"Y/n".
"Wonderful, (y/n), I'm sorry about all of this. They may wear the Lannister name but not the honor. I'm going back to King's Landing, is there any way I can take you there and give you a place to stay in reparation?"
"Of course, your grace."
"Please, call me Jaime." He smiles as he offers his hand in a gesture to his horse, which you climb onto. He joins behind you, and you both ride back to his home.
