Jaime

War. Everything revolved around war, and Jaime Lannister was tired. He was a kingsguard but the king was dead and Joffrey sat on the Iron Throne, starting fights by making reckless decisions with absolutely nothing to gain from them. Ned Stark was insufferable but he was adored by the North; unsurprisingly, they had rose up against the crown to defend their liege lords honour.

"My lord, we've arrived at Lord Tywin's camp." said an unrecognisable voice, one of his men whose name he failed to remember.

When Jaime heard his father had rallied the bannermen and set up camp, it was the first time the seriousness of the situation really hit home. It wasn't just Robb Stark craving revenge. It was war. Joffrey may be king but Cersei and the small council would undoubtedly be pulling his strings however they could. If they hadn't attempted a peace negotiation, then Tywin wouldn't either. He started a war for the son he despised, and he would win it for the grandson half of the realm despised.

He told Tytos Brax to keep a close eye on the northern bastard before making his way to his father's tent. It would not do for the boy to escape before Tywin even learned of his captivity. Captivity wasn't the word they were using though. Rather cleverly, Jaime thought, they were referring to it as a mutual agreement. Snow didn't try to run, and Jaime would do all he could to make sure the boy's sisters were not mistreated. He couldn't do much, of course, but Snow had a wonderful naivety for a boy his age.

Jaime found Lord Tywin in his tent, brooding over what looked like a large pile of papers. That didn't surprise Jaime. What did surprise him was his little brother, Tyrion, sat at the table next to his uncle, Kevan Lannister. Tyrion's face screamed discomfort despite always getting on with their uncle, not to mention the rather large goblet of wine in front of him.

"Jaime." Tywin Lannister said formally, his voice deep and dominant as always. "We weren't expecting you until sundown."

"We are on the brink of civil war. I rode fast."

"Shouldn't you be guarding our new king?" asked Jaime's little brother, his voice mocking. Tyrion had never tried to cover his feelings towards their nephew. He had even struck Joffrey on occasion; he would only try that now if he felt the desire to lose a hand.

"This is more important, brother. I see you didn't make it to the Wall?"

"I made it halfway. I heard the news that our repulsive nephew had chopped off Ned Stark's head, and decided it was not wise to be so close to Winterfell when a Lannister head would be as pleasurable as a flagon of wine for the northerners."

"So you rushed back to the aid of your family."

"Of course. I'm a Lannister. It's my duty." Tyrion grinned at him like they were two people having a personal jape. Jaime detected amusement in his undertones; it was rare, even for Tyrion, to reveal his true feelings about the family in front of their father.

Tywin Lannister was watching them with that still, furious facial expression painted all over his features. The papers in front of him were spread haphazardly on the table, making Jaime wonder if his father wasn't organised, as uncharacteristic as that would be. The war had barely begun, but it was brewing, and Lord Tywin always had a plan.

He delivered. Jaime was to take half of their forces - 30,000 men - and storm the Riverlands. An easy job for a well-established soldier like him; the only drawback was the distance between himself and his sister. He missed her already. Her husband was a rotting corpse, yet they still could not be together. He knew it was an impossibility, she knew it was an impossibility. Nevertheless, they belonged together. They came into this world together; the world created the barriers they face.

Jon

"Snow," Lannister says later that night, when the sun is setting behind the mountains. Jon can hear only Ghost's heavy panting and the soft crackling of the fire, then the Kingslayer's silky tones drift into audibility. "Saddle my horse. We are riding in an hour."

"It's dark."

"Very observant." he drawls, his voice patronising. "It's better that way."

Jon Snow bites his lip. There is an urge on him - he could stand up, unsheathe Lannister's steel and open his throat. It would be the end of his own life but Jon would die satisfied. Lost in his internal monologue he remembers a phrase he had once heard Arya use. Quick as a shadow. He blinks and realises there's no possible way to execute his idea, it would only hinder Robb's cause; he feels warm as he thinks of a dead Lannister. He is scaring himself. This is what the Lannister's are turning him into, and he knows he has to find his brother.

"My lord," starts Jon tentatively. This could be a dangerous question. "Did you.. did your lord father mention my brother?"

"I'm disappointed, Snow. Your brother is in rebellion against the crown. My family. You are my squire, therefore should be in support of us." Jaime's voice raises slightly towards the end, and it amuses Jon to watch him cringe away as Ghost bares his teeth in defence. Jon calmingly strokes the wolf's neck. "As a matter of fact, he did. We have an idea where he is, of his plans. Why should I tell you?"

"You said it yourself, my lord. I am your capti-" He stops himself. "Your squire. I support you. If it comes to battle I will be helping you. Would it not be wise for me to know the facts?" The words were catching in his throat. He's told lies before. Numerous times, back at Winterfell, to escape punishment for things he had done wrong, he blamed Theon Greyjoy. Sometimes he helped Arya, on occasion even Sansa (though Sansa getting herself into trouble was rare) to blame Jeyne Poole or some other girl living in the castle.

The guilt he felt then has nothing on the guilt he feels now. He has no intention of following through on his words but he wants news. He wants information. He wants hope, hope of finding Robb and the northern bannermen. It's the only way he can avenge his father.

Lannister stares at him for some moments. It's almost like he is trying to read the boys face. Jon gives nothing away, keeping his face as still as stone. Eventually, the kingslayer says: "We have reason to believe your half-brother," He puts emphasis on half-brother as if it will offend Jon. "is nearing the Twins. Walder Frey is yet to declare. There is no knowing whether Frey will let Stark's host through. Regardless, he is not a threat."

And with that, Jaime Lannister reminds him to saddle his horse and walks away.

He is. Jon thinks. He looks to the sky. Robb is a threat. And if he isn't now, he will be once I join him. By the old gods and the new, we will take our revenge.

AN: From Jon's point of view, I started writing in a different tense. I think I'm going to write it like this from now on, if it works, so let me know please. I find it easier that way.

Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, especially as I wasn't too confident. :)

Next chapter will be up soon, I hope and will have Robb POV! I finally feel like I'm getting somewhere with this now.