Author's note: All rights go to HBO and GRRM.


Jaime I

Jaime didn't think there was a time in his life he had felt more conflicted.

A part of him ached in a near constant thrum of disquiet. He knew he closed a door back in King's Landing when he left. Cersei was like Wildfire, indiscriminate and all consuming. She would not forgive his abandonment the same way she had grown to forgive his physical shortcomings. There was a debt between the two of them that would have to be collected someday. If he survived that long.

And yet despite the ache in his chest, Jaime had never felt more alive. For the first time in a long while he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was doing the right thing. Cloaked in a studded leather tunic, a steady horse beneath him, and a good sword at his hip, Jaime felt whole and strong again. And my stump hasn't throbbed in days.

Jaime led his courser through a small grove of trees. The chill in the air nipped at his throat so he pulled his cloak tighter around himself. He was lucky the South had only seen flurries of snow so far. If winter were to come in full before I reached Winterfell...

He banished that thought from his mind. He was not going to die frozen on the side of the road. He'd meet his end with a sword in his hand, fighting dead men and whatever other abominations were coming from beyond the Wall. That would be a fine ending to my page in the White Book.

After passing the trees Jaime dismounted awkwardly and tied his horse's reins to a branch. He was beginning to pull the salted beef from his pack when he heard a rustle from behind him. Without giving anything away, Jaime pretended to rummage through his supplies while discretely slipping his good hand to the hilt of his dirk. The smooth grip was a comfort and he eased a bit of the blade from its sheath. After a moment there was a cry from above and he jerked his head up.

A raven perched in the tree above where his horse was tethered.

It was staring at him.

Jaime eased his hand away from the dagger and continued his rummaging. He tried to ignore the sense of foreboding in his belly. He had begun to have queer dreams as of late, all involving ravens. They followed and guided him through ghostly battlefields and empty castles. One time he had come across a fork in the road and, recalling his dream from the previous night, turned left as the raven had bid him. He had done it purely on a whim. Hours later he learned from a fellow pilgrim that a group of bandits had set up close to the Kingsroad and that he was lucky to have avoided them. Jaime had thanked the man and tried to ignore the cold sweat running down his back. He was wary of ravens ever since.

After a quick meal, Jaime mounted his horse again and continued on. A few more hours and he would be at Saltpans. He hoped the people there would know what had become of the Twins. Depending on who holds it now, my journey will be far more complicated than I would hope.

A shriek in the distance jolted Jaime from his thoughts. He pulled his horse to a stop and waited. He strained his ears for anymore cries. After a moment, he heard what could have been sobbing. It sounded like a child. He pushed his horse off the road and into the hedges. Now he could hear shouting and stomping as if a mighty argument was taking place.

Jaime stopped and slid off his horse as quietly as he could. Fingering his sword, he crept forward towards the source of the disturbance.

Past the hedges was a small clearing. In the center was a group of twenty people. Jaime saw that they were a ragtag gaggle of men, women, and children. The mothers were clutching the sobbing young ones close to their skirts.

Jaime saw the four armed men spread around the shivering smallfolk and understood.

His eyes hardened and he gripped his sword tightly.

Fucking bandits.

Two of them were locked in a vicious war of curses. Jaime loosened his grip and tried to catch what they were saying.

"We wasting our time here, ya cunt."

"Fuck yourself. We'll leave once I've had my fun."

The one who had just spoken eyed a crying mother hungrily and she averted her eyes at his stare.

Jaime made his decision. He backtracked to his horse making sure not to draw any attention. He laid his hand on the side of the beast's head and whispered soft words when it began to fidget. The odds were not good. He was one against four. He had only hand. He might have been able to save those people if he was young and whole again, but now...

He wondered what Brienne would do in this situation? Likely something brave and foolish. Jaime felt himself smile.

He pulled the travel pack off the horse's back and placed it in a bush. He pulled himself up and adjusted the saddle. He drew his sword and pushed his horse into a slow trot. It took but a moment until he saw the clearing.

Jaime released a shuddering breath. His insides were aflame with excitement and fear in equal measure.

Gathering his courage, Jaime gave a roar and dug his heels in deep. His horse shot forward like a great brown gust of wind.

The reaction was instantaneous. The bandits all jerked in the direction he was charging. Jaime angled his hips and the horse dipped to the right, putting him on a collision with the nearest bandit. He was a big man, dressed in rusty armor and carrying a wicked looking axe. His gaped stupidly at the charging horse coming his way. A true knight likely would have dismounted and forgone fighting from the saddle while his opponents were afoot.

Jaime rode right over him.

Ignoring the sound of crunching bones, he raised his sword at a second bandit who came at him with a spear. A smarter warrior would have tried to kill his horse, but the bandit practically ignored it in favor of attempting to skewer Jaime. Bending his head to avoid the sharpened tip, Jaime chopped down as hard as he could with his left arm. He felt a wet thud as his sword cut deep into the spearman's head. It took a great effort to pull his sword out and he nearly dropped it when he finally managed to get free.

His bumbling ended up saving his life. As he leaned back to settle himself, there was a loud schhwaff and a rush of wind passed by his head. He jerked away on instinct and looked up to see the third bandit kneeling and trying to reload a crossbow.

Jaime kicked his horse and shot towards him. It struck him that he'd never make it in time. The man would have enough time to load and fire at him before he got within sword range. As the bandit raised his beady eyes and grinned through yellow teeth, an idea came to Jaime.

He raised his sword and threw it as hard as he could.

The bandit had a look of surprise on his face when Jaime's sword hit the dirt and bounced upwards, slapping him in the chest. His crossbow fired prematurely and whizzed by Jaime harmlessly. Cursing, the man dropped his now useless weapon and drew a longsword from his hip.

Fumbling behind him, Jaime felt his hand close around the hilt of a sword and pulled. Widow's Wail slid out of its sheath as smooth as silk. Jaime gave a shout as he reached the bandit and cut down with all his strength. His adversary's sword was an old and rusty piece of metal he most likely had stolen from a dead man. It snapped like a twig from the kiss of Jaime's Valyrian Steel.

The bandit's head bounced to the ground and rolled some distance to lay near the fallen crossbow.

Breathing heavily, Jaime turned his horse towards the final bandit and raised his sword. He hoped he could not see how Jaime's arm trembled with exhaustion.

He was an ugly man, with grey hair and an ugly nose made uglier by the many burst blood vessels in it. His eyes reminded Jaime of a rat. He had a dagger out and under the throat of a woman who was trying desperately not to cry.

Despite his weakness, Jaime's voice was steady when he spoke, "If you let her go, I will spare your life."

The bandit sneered. "You think I'm stupid? What's stopping you from just stabbing me in the back after I let her go?"

Jaime smiled. "Honor."

You've got to be pulling my-"

The bandit never finished. Two of the men standing behind him seized his arms and wrenched the dagger from his hands. He gave a cry as another man kicked him in the belly. He collapsed to the ground as a flurry of kicks and punches rained down from the vengeful smallfolk.

Jaime couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips. Now that's what I call justice.

He sheathed Widow's Wail and dismounted to check on the people. He was caught off guard when the woman who had been held at knife point flung herself at him.

"Oh thank you! Thank you thank you thank you! I thought he would kill me for sure. Oh, you're a true knight m'lord!"

He patted her head awkwardly and assured her it was no trouble. He suddenly found himself surrounded on all sides by thankful fathers, tearful mothers, and whooping children begging him to let them see his sword. It was strange and off putting, but it reminded him of days long gone when his honor was not so soiled.

The blare of a trumpet and the thundering of boots shattered the whimsical scene.

Jaime threw himself in front of the smallfolk as a group of twenty armored pikemen marched out of the bushes and into the clearing. There commander was mounted and rode near the head of the column. They were all clad in the crimson armor that marked them as retainers of House Lannister.

Fuck me.

He drew his sword. The situation was hopeless, but he did not want it said that Jaime Lannister had died a coward.

The soldiers paused their march as the commander raised a hand. He peered at the group before him through the holes of his great helm. The top of his helm was adorned with what Jaime thought was...a flaming tree?

He smiled. Perhaps all was not lost.

"Name yourself," the commander demanded.

"From where I come from, it is proper etiquette to name yourself first before demanding it of others."

The commander stiffened. As did his men. One of them stepped forward but was stopped at the raised hand of his commander.

"Ser Lucas Marbrand, if it pleases you. Now you will name yourself or you will hang."

Some of the smallfolk looked about to protest but Jaime calmed them quickly. He had to play this part carefully for all their sakes.

"I must say, you aren't as fat as I remember. War seems to agree with you, Lucas."

Ser Lucas glowered. "How dare you. Who do you think you-"

"Jaime Lannister."

The silence that followed his proclamation was deafening. The soldiers looked to each other. The smallfolk around Jaime began to whisper loudly amongst themselves. Ser Lucas removed his helm and squinted at him. His hair had more grey in it than the last time he had seen the man, but there was no denying that this was the uncle of Jaime's old friend, Ser Addam Marbrand.

He seemed to finally recognize him, for he shouted loudly, "Ser Jaime! Gods be good, it is you! When we received the messenger from King's Landing, I was certain we'd never find you in this damned maze of a forest."

Jaime froze. If they were acting on Cersei's orders he was doomed. They'd drag him back to the Red Keep, to his sister...

He widened his stance and clutched his sword tighter. Before he could move forward to what was certainly his doom, Ser Lucas continued his rambling.

"Addam will be quite relieved to see you, as will Lord Bronn."

That stopped Jaime in his tracts. "Lord...Bronn?"

Ser Lucas ceased his rant and frowned at Jaime. "Yes, he was the one who delivered the Queen's message from King's Landing. Says you came to help us put the Riverlands back to rights but got separated from your detachment. We've been hunting for you ever since."

Sheathing his sword with a hearty chuckle, Jaime said, "Well we wouldn't want to keep Lord Bronn waiting now, would we?"


After a few hours ride, Jaime and Ser Lucas came upon the Lannister encampment. It was Northwest of Harrenhal and strategically placed to allow them to strike out against the forces besieging Riverrun. The sight of a proper military camp brought Jaime back to his time leading the Lannister army alongside Bronn. Before Daenerys Targaryen had laid waste to it.

Jaime and his escort made their way to the commander's tent. The burning tree of House Marbrand streamed above as he pushed aside the flap of the entrance and went in.

There were two men seated at a table with a map spread out on it. He knew both of them. Ser Bronn of the Blackwater leaned back in his chair with his legs kicked up before him. Ser Addam Marbrand was bent over the map with a look of focus on his face. Both looked up at as he walked in. Bronn inclined his head while Ser Addam smiled and stood up. He moved to take Jaime's hand.

"Damn good to see you, Jaime."

"You as well, Addam. How goes the war?"

Ser Addam gave a tired sigh. "Not well. Edmure Tully has rallied the Riverlords and raised his banners in revolt once again. He holds the Twins and currently lays siege to Riverrun."

Jaime took in the new information. "And who stands against him?"

"Emmon Frey commands some 4,000 Frey levies, supplemented by about 800 Lannister men.

Emmon Frey couldn't command himself out of a wet sack.

Nodding, Jaime turned his attention to Bronn. "Could you give us the room for a moment, Ser? I must speak privily with Ser Addam."

Bronn stared at him for a long while. Eventually he gave a shrug and said, "Knock yourself out, my lord. I'll be outside drinking your wine."

He got up and left the two knights to their talk. Ser Addam raised an eyebrow expectantly. "I have a feeling this won't be pleasant."

Jaime nodded sadly. "Afraid so. I'm here against Cersei's orders."

That got his friend's attention. "But I thought-"

"You thought wrong. I'm sure you've heard about the recent parlay in King's Landing?" at Addam's nod Jaime continued, "Well, Cersei made false promises. She swore aid to Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow in their war in the North, but she's gone back on that."

Ser Addam shifted uncomfortably. "Can't rightly say I'm surprised. Your sister does what she wants."

"Not this time," Jaime snapped, "I'm traveling North to join the Dragon Queen and the King in the North's army."

His friend looked flummoxed. "That's treason, Jaime."

He smiled sourly. "Is it treason to allow all of Westeros to die for my sister's lies? I have seen what we face, Addam. I have stared down dragons and seen dead men that snarl like mad dogs. All the old tales about magic are real. The Dragon Queen says there's at least a hundred thousand dead men coming for us. I gave my word I would fight against them, or die in the attempt."

Addam leaned his elbows forward on the table and rubbed his eyes. He said, "I don't know what to say Jaime. You sound mad, but half of Westeros swears that dragons have returned and our lack of a proper army proves that true. I'm inclined to believe you about these dead men as well."

If Jaime didn't convince him, he'd never make it North. "Do you trust me, Addam?'

Addam raised his eyes at the question. "Trust? I...yes, Jaime. I trust you."

"Then heed me. If we don't stop this threat from the North, then we will all die. Every man, woman, and child in Westeros. Your father will die. Your wife and daughter will die. How old is Melesa now?"

The color drained from Addam's face. "She's one and twenty. She...she just got married to Merlon Crakehall not two moons ago."

"She won't live to see two and twenty unless we fight. Are you with me?"

"I...am with you. I am with you until the end, Jaime."

Jaime felt a weight lift from his shoulders. "Thank you, my friend."

Addam still looked bothered. "But what about Riverrun? Do we just abandon the siege?"

Jaime shrugged. "Not quite. I have an idea."


"Don't say it."

"I wasn't going to."

Jaime glared at Bronn's wolfish grin. Back on a horse, surrounded by soldiers bearing the leaping trout of House Tully, he was in no mood for the sellsword turned knight's cutting humor.

"If you insist on coming up with these fucking stupid plans, don't get your breeches in a twist when I point out how fucking stupid they are."

Despite himself, Jaime laughed. "I have missed that priceless whit of yours, Bronn."

"If you love it so much you might have warned me that you were abandoning that sinking ship you call a sister."

Jaime sobered. "That was unworthy of me. I should have told you. I thought it might be better for you if you were't involved in my flight."

Bronn snorted. "Your sister has hated me for years. There's no changing that."

Something in his tone caused Jaime to turn and regard him. "Did she try anything with you?"

"No, but I wasn't waiting around to find out. Which reminds me, I have something for you back at camp. I think you'll get a laugh out of it."

Before Jaime could inquire further the group arrived at the Tully camp. He felt a wave of nostalgia come over him as they made their way through the besieger's camp. This is the third time I have stood on this bank and stared out across the water at Riverrun.

Edmure Tully's tent was hard to miss. It was in the center of the camp and colored in bright red and blue stripes. Their escort led them to the entrance and roughly shoved them inside.

The rightful Lord of Riverrun sat at a table adorned with parchment. He was scribbling loudly when they walked in. Edmure looked up and started. He looked much better than the last time Jaime had seen him. He had grown a beard, a big red one that made him look fierce.

Jaime gave a nod. "Lord Edmure."

Edmure shot to his feet, red in the face. "When the Lannisters said they wanted to talk I didn't think they'd send you. I should have you catapulted over the walls into Riverrun to join those Frey bastards."

"Best you not. Poor Emmon might die of fright."

Edmure spat. "Good, I hope all of them choke," glaring openly he asked, "Give me one good reason not to kill you."

"I can give you Riverun without bloodshed."

Edmure paused.

Now I have his attention. "Allow me to cross the siege lines and I will force Emmon Frey to submit to you."

He could see Edmure mulling this over. He continued, "Emmon is a weakling and a coward. He also knows that the Freys are now a rarity in the Riverlands. He'll let me get close in hopes I can save him."

"And will you? Save him?"

"Fuck no. I have no love for the Freys."

Edmure regarded him with suspicious eyes. "Why would you do this?"

Jaime adjusted his footing. This would be a harder sell. "I need the Lannister men garrisoned with the Frey forces. There's war brewing in the North and I've pledged to help the King in the North."

That sent Edmure for a whirl. "You? Help the North? You must be japing."

Jaime's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I am deathly serious, Lord Edmure."

His tone must have warned Edmure, for he straightened and glared back. "Are you saying you actually believe this nonsense about dead men and Night Kings?"

"Of course I believe it. It's the truth. The King in the North proved that when he brought a dead man to King's Landing."

Edmure's eyes went wide. "The rumors are true then?"

"Everything you've heard is the truth."

"By the gods," he breathed, "My nieces...they asked for my help and I said no."

"You're quite the loving uncle."

He didn't rise to Jaime's bait for once. "I agree to your terms. I must send aid to Sansa and Arya as quickly as possible. If you say you can get me Riverrun without the blood of my men, then I have no choice but to trust you."

Jaime tried to hide his smirk. "In addition, I shall require the first pickings of the provisions that the Freys have stockpiled. My men will need them for the march North," Edmure looked ready to protest but Jaime cut him off, "And as a token of goodwill, I've sent word for your wife and child. They should be on their way here now."

Edmure's mouth dropped open and then closed rapidly. "Roslin? She's coming here? And she's bringing the baby?"

"It's where they belong."

He looked like he was fighting back tears. "I can never forgive you for what you did to my family, Kingslayer. But...thank you for returning them to me."

Jaime gave a shrug. It felt good, to reunite a family he had once separated. Edmure turned away and began writing furiously. Jaime signaled Bronn that they should leave, but he stopped. "Once last thing Edmure."

Edmure looked up.

"How did you escape the Twins? How did you kill the Freys?"

He frowned at the questions. "I didn't. One day I woke up and the door to my cell was open, same as all the other captives. We thought it was a trick but after a while we realized there were no guards. We found them in the main hall, dead at the dinner tables. Someone poisoned the lot of them."

Jaime felt a chill run down his back.


It was almost laughable how easily the Freys let him into the castle. They opened the gate and there was Emmon Frey, blubbering like a fool.

"Oh thank the gods you've come, Jaime. That accursed Edmure Tully butchered my family and now he wants my castle. But you've come to help me defeat them, yes?"

Jaime smiled. "Certainly."

He drew his dirk and cracked Emmon across the face with his golden hand. He gave a cry and collapsed in a pile. Jaime put his knife to Emmon's throat to still the advancing guards.

"Hear me! The fighting is over! Throw down your weapons and yield, or I shall cut the throat of your lord!"

Nobody moved. Men bearing the twin towers of Frey had their weapons drawn but were frozen in place. He could spot the Lannister soldiers mixed in with the Frey levies.

"Men of the West! Do you want to die for the sake of a Frey? I can think of worst ways to go, but not many!"

Again his answer was silence. Until a single crimson clad soldier stepped forward. He removed his helm and spoke in a Westerlands accent. "Begging m'lord's pardon, but fuck the Freys." He punctured his statement by drawing his sword and pointing it at the nearest Frey. The other Lannister men did the same.

Jaime couldn't recall the last time he'd had such a good day.


"I can't believe you pulled this off."

"Your confidence in me is heartening."

"You want me to sing your praises, try paying me."

Jaime snorted as he and Bronn made their way to the latter's tent. Adding the men from Riverrun to what Ser Addam had under his command, Jaime now had close to 5,000 men. It's not what Cersei promised, but at least I won't be showing up to Winterfell empty handed.

He turned to Bronn. "What is it that you needs show me? We have a long ride ahead of us. We shall reach the Twins in three days time, and Tully says the Dothraki left it a ruin after they stormed the place. We won't be beating them to Winterfell at the pace they're going, but I'd at least like to arrive before winter ends."

Bronn gave a sharp laugh. "You should be thanking me instead of whinging. If I hadn't lied and said Cersei sent me to find you, you'd have never gotten out of this place alive much less at the head of an army.

"You know a Lannister always pays-"

"I swear I'll cut off your head myself if you say that shite one more time."

He gave a laugh. They arrived at the tent and Bronn turned to him. He had an unusually serious look in his eye.

"Didn't mention it before, but you're not the only the one who left King's Landing in a less than respectable fashion."

"Oh?"

"I had to smuggle myself out of the city. I hid aboard a ship bound for Maidenpool. That's how I got ahead of you."

Jaime narrowed his eyes. "And why did you have to do that?"

"Because I killed a jailor and two of your sister's Queensguard."

"And why did you do that?"

"To get this."

Bronn pushed back the flap of the tent and went inside. Jaime reluctantly followed him. His eyes were immediately drawn to the bed, where a figure lay wrapped in furs. Bronn walked over and pulled them back so Jaime could see the figure's face.

It was a woman. She had black hair and what looked like copper skin, though she was so pale it was hard to tell. She blinked open black eyes that were bleary with sleep.

Tyene Sand.

"I imagine she'll win us quite a bit of pull with the Dragon Queen," Bronn explained. At Jaime's expression, he gave a laugh. "Oh come on, as if you've never done something stupid enough to royally piss off that cunt you call a sister."

That, Jaime could not deny.


Ending note: Fight scenes can be hard to write so forgive me if this sucked. Also I know it's unlikely, but I'm fond of the theory that Jaime won't be showing up to Winterfell alone.