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"Come on, Kingslayer!" Jaime was manhandled to his feet and lifted onto his horse by three crown soldiers. He waited as he was tied firmly into place on the saddle, his feet bound to the stirrups, the chains pinning his arms to his sides and binding his wrists together checked and doubled checked. He could feel hands touching him, tugging at his bounds, the horse breathing steadily beneath him, the leather of the saddle, the clothes on his skin, the snow on his face. Somewhere in the distance he could hear voices beside him, talking about everything that no longer mattered.

A piece of bread was shoved in his face. "Eat." The hand tried to push the food towards his mouth-but Jaime kept his lips firmly shut.

"You will have to eat sometime, Kingslayer!" It was the voice of the blonde general. In his hazy vision, Jaime could see his face, staring up at him cheerfully. "As I am contracted to keeping you alive, I may have to resort to more…persuasion."

Jaime did not react. He did not look down. He did not even blink.

"Ah, so be it. Whatever makes you happy." The general shook his head, before turning around. "We had better get going. If we're quick about it, and don't have any trouble from this one, we'll reach the coast tonight."

The men moved on, leading Jaime's horse forth. He could vaguely hear the horse's hooves, feel the movement beneath him, the cold wind in his face. It was as if he was feeling them all through a layer of glass, as if they were not quite real. Nothing felt real any more. He was not real any more. Nothing could touch him-truly touch him. He was sealed off from the world, from everyone. Even the air, which he continued to inhale and exhale, was not real. He wished to every god there was that he could simply stop breathing, simply stop taking in air and letting it out…but he continued so unconsciously to do so. He wanted to rip his lungs from his chest, just to stop this taking in of cold air and breathing out, this constant reminder that he still lived, that he was alive, and Brienne…

Jaime could not even summon the energy to scream, to cry, to do anything…

Still, in his pocket, hard and cold against his skin…the wooden lion cub.

There was a strange smell…as Brienne became aware of her breathing, aware of some kind of warmth, aware…the smell…it smelled like...she didn't know…but something smelled…her eyes opened a fraction…then closed again…

"Hello?"

A strange voice from beside her.

Instantly-Brienne's eyes snapped open. Her hand shot down to her waist for Oathkeeper-but her fingers closed on nothing but thin air. Slowly, the haze above her eyes cleared. She realised that there was a wooden roof above her head…and she was lying on some sort of straw mattress. Her cloak had been thrown over her….and her sword was gone. Panic set in-

"There now!" The strange voice was back-and a strange hand gently held onto her shoulder. "There now! You're quite safe!"

Brienne barely heard it. She tried to shoot up to a sitting position-but her head was so dizzy…slowly, everything came back to her-then all at one. She gasped aloud.

"Lie down! There now, dear, relax…y'cannae be getting up now." The hand gently pushed her down onto the bed. Brienne looked up-realising that the voice belonged to a woman. Gradually, her eyes focused on the face who looked down at her. It was older than she was, the lines prominent-but the hair was still dark brown, wild and frizzy. The eyes were grey, quite large and bulging. The thin lips smiled down at her-a nervous smile trying desperately not to seem so. She looked at Brienne as if she was a queen. Brienne felt fear spreading over every cell of her body.

"Who are you?" she demanded, trying again to sit back up but finding herself too weak. "What is this place?"

To her amazement-the woman who sat beside her began to laugh. She looked behind her, calling to another room. "Saeb! Y'were right! Y'should hear the way she talks! She must be highborn!."

"What?" Brienne was more confused than ever. She realised that there was a fire beside her, a small fire, but a fire none the less. The warmth felt almost heavenly…but she was too scared to think on it. Where was her sword? She checked once again, just in case-but Oathkeeper was gone. Suddenly-she felt a small movement inside her. The baby was alive, he was strong, he was...the thought of him only made her more horrified.

"Maggie?" Another voice, a man's voice, from a distance away, echoing off the wood of the walls. "Has she woken up?"

"She has, love!" the woman named Maggie called back. Then, she turned back to Brienne, who was still feeling frantically for Oathkeeper. "Ah now, there's no need for that! Relax, dear, no one here is gonna hurt you! Lie down now, dear…eh…I mean…m'lady?" she tried, uncertainly.

Footsteps marched towards the room. There was no door, simply an arch that separated this room from the next. A man appeared-a tall man, well built, his muscles clear beneath his simple clothes. His hair was chestnut brown…chestnut brown…her horse…

"Who are you?" Brienne asked again, sliding further away on the mattress from both of the strangers, looking frantically around the room for her sword. "Where am I?"

The woman named Maggie inexplicably burst out laughing again. "Listen to her! She really talks like a proper lady, don't she?"

"Stop that, Mags," The man approached her, extreme nervousness all over his face. Uncertainly-he made a small bow. "M'lady?" He straightened up, not knowing what to do next.

Brienne was baffled. She stared from man to woman, confused-but somehow, slightly less scared. The man, despite his size, looked like a rabbit caught in a trap. The woman, despite her familiarity, was looking at her as if she was royalty, suddenly landed in her home. It made her uncomfortable. But wherever she was-she had to move. She had to move on fast. "Where am I?" she asked again.

The man looked a little baffled. "You're, eh…on…on me farm, m'lady."

"About twenty miles south of Castle Cerwyn," Maggie answered, more calm than her husband. "Is that where you were riding from, m'lady?"

"Of course not, that's the seat of House Cerwyn!" the man said quickly. "They're bannermen of the Starks!"

"Oh, do shut up, Saebastyn!" Maggie rolled her eyes, looking down at Brienne with a knowing smile. "Don't worry about him. You're quite safe here."

Saebastyn turned darkly to the wall. "It's our safety I'm worried about…"

"Castle Cerwyn?" Brienne rubbed her forehead. Shit. Is that all the ground she had covered? She was still days from White Harbor…

"Yes, dear. Twenty miles past." Maggie nodded kindly. "My son found you in our yard, m'lady, next to your horse. She's tied up in the barn, don't worry." The woman gently patted Brienne's hair, comforting her. "You must rest-"

"Don't touch her!" Saebastyn hissed to his wife agitatedly. "Think of what'll happen to us if we harm her! It's bad enough having her in the house! D'you know what her family would do to us if she was hurt?" He rolled his eyes, sighing hard. "Sorry, m'lady, meaning no offence-"

Brienne hardly listened. She looked at them, trying to keep her voice as polite and ordinary as possible in her panic. "Thank you so much for your help. You are most kind. But I really must go now. If you know where my sword is, then-"

"Eh? Oh, you cannae go anywhere now!" Maggie stroked Brienne's hair, ignoring her husband. "Y'have to rest. I would never forgive m'self if I sent you back out into the snow, the way y'are! What were you doing, riding if your condition? So dangerous-"

"Maggie!" Saebastyn hissed again, running his hands through his own hair, sighing stressfully. "So sorry, m'lady, meaning no off-"

"I mean, don't you lords and ladies ride in carriages? Or them litter things?" Maggie asked, bending down to the floor and coming up with a bucket of warm water and a cloth. Gently, she pressed the warm, wet cloth to Brienne's forehead. It was very pleasant-but Brienne could not relax. Lords and ladies? Family? "Especially since your family are… Of course we were worried when we found you. Thought y'were another corpse!-eh-begging y'pardon, m'lady. Meaning nothing by it." she said, with a pacifying look at her husband.

Brienne managed to meet her eyes. "Thank you." she repeated, still uncertain. But she could not sake the feeling of paranoia. "Do you know who I am?"

Maggie coughed a little. "Well…"

"The red cloak. The lion sword. It was quite-eh-m'lady?" Saeb gave another bow. It seemed to be a nervous tick he had developed since she had awoken.

Suddenly-it clicked. "Lannister?"

"Well, yes, m'lady." Maggie nodded, suddenly looking slightly more nervous to hear it aloud. "Your family hold the Iron Throne-it was certainly a fright when we found you outside our own farm! What in the world has happened to you?"

Brienne was more shocked than ever. She looked up at the two faces, staring down at her in such wonder. Finally, her brain seemed to have clicked into action. If she did not deny being a Lannister, this was the North. Northerners hated Lannisters. But if she told the truth…what if word got out that Brienne of Tarth was still alive? What if word reached the crown? Cersei had spies everywhere…it may be the lesser of two threats. "Where is my sword?" she asked instead, in case she needed to protect herself. She did not trust anyone-even this kind-faced woman and her nervous husband who smelled of beef.

"Don't say where-" Saebastyn began, fear rising in his eyes.

"On the shelf, dear." Maggie said firmly, again ignoring her husband. "Couldn't have the children getting at it. Don't worry. Rest."

Brienne looked straight at Saebastyn. "I am not going to hurt you." she said, in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. "But I have to go now. I have to get to-I mean, I have to-"

"Rest." Maggie said firmly. "You shouldn't ride in your condition, m'lady-why do you think you fainted? And right here, so I could look after you? That was the gods making their will known." She gently dabbed Brienne's forehead with the damp cloth in a motherly way. "The Mother is protecting you, and your child. Clearly, it's more important that you both survive than you get to wherever it is y'going. Now, you really must rest, for the sake of your baby. He will have had quite a turn today! Besides, it is an honour to host a lady beneath our own roof."

Mother…her wedding vows swum into her head…Brienne suddenly remembered why it was so urgent that she had to leave. Jaime. Jaime was in danger. "T-thank you." Brienne repeated for a third time. "Your kindness is rare-I mean-but I have to leave-"

"-No." Maggie shook her head, a hand gently but firmly on her shoulder. "Beg pardon, m'lady, but you are staying here. Y'are our guest now-that means something even to folk like us-and the gods would punish us if we let you back out into that snow, on that horse-to your death, most likely. I'll be damned if that happens. No-stay here. The gods sent you here for a reason."

Saebastyn was still hovering in the background, not knowing what to do. "It-it would be an honour, m'lady. Or-or is it Your Highness?" he added quickly, looking panicked again.

Brienne looked back up at the woman named Maggie, who looked so kindly down at her-who had so freely extended guest rights to a stranger-even if she thought she was a Lannister…well…she was sort of a Lannister now. Jaime's face was still burned into her mind's eye-she was so scared for him it physically hurt her…but she knew she was too weak to ride. She knew every mile she rode put her baby in danger… "It doesn't have to be anything. Thank you." she whispered again. "I am in your debt."

Maggie gave another chuckle. It was such a warm, hearty sound. "You were right, Saeb! Lady Lannister is already speaking of debts!"

A Lannister always pays his debts…

The mole-soldier was fearful even to approach Ser Jaime. But to see a man so like a corpse was revolting, so stomach-churning and sickening. He could not bear to stand back and watch him die-for Ser Jaime's death would be on his hands. The soldier worked for Varys-he was a spy, not an executioner. He had not killed a man in his life-except on the battlefield. And to begin with a man so broken, so blank, so haunting…he could not bear it.

Getting to his feet, he slipped away from that night's fire, from the other Lannister men, towards the tree, to which Ser Jaime was bound. Beside it-Ser Gregor Clegane stood, guarding him. He was truly the most terrifying man that the soldier had ever seen. But now-he was not half as scary as Se Jaime. The kingslayer had chains and ropes around his waist and shoulders, around his arms and legs, his wrists and feet. It was very plain that the general was taking Jaime's threats of suicide very seriously. There was no way he could escape. This gave the soldier a lot more confidence than the kingslayer's face. It was empty.

The soldier looked down at him, pity almost breaking his heart. There was simply nothing there. He felt he was looking not at a man, but a corpse. He crouched down, right in front of Ser Jaime. The man did not react in the slightest to his presence. Carefully, he offered a hand to the kingslayer, holding out a hunk of bread and meat.

"Eat." he asked politely, his soldierly bark softened.

Nothing.

"Eat?" he asked again, with less confidence. Just looking at Ser Jaime filled him with guilt. He could not help but feel responsible. Lady Brienne was alive, their child was alive, he had helped her escape himself…and yet he could say nothing to her grieving husband. "Please?"

Suddenly, like a crocodile in water-Ser Jaime's head snapped up. His eyes were wild, as wild as the queen's, as wild as the lion on their banners. He looked at the soldier, eyes fixing on the mole on his face.

"You held her dress?"

The mole-soldier started slightly-Jaime's voice was like nothing he had heard in a human voice before. It rasped-it was low and yet deafening. Ser Jaime's face was still, as if he did not have the energy to move it-but his eyes were aflame.

"I-I did." he answered. "I'm-I'm so sor-"

"Were you the man who murdered her?"

Jaime's question hung in the air. It was so strange-his tone was almost casual, as if asking who had won a joust the previous month-and yet it was so full. So rasping. Unmistakeably a threat.

"N-no-"

"You did." Jaime looked straight into his eyes. "I see your guilt. You murdered her."

"No!"

"You won't answer for your actions?" Ser Jaime gave a humourless laugh. "You are a coward. Brienne of Tarth…murdered by a coward."

The mole-soldier could not fathom what to say. Ser Jaime's eyes burned into him, as if he had just been thrown onto a pyre, his flesh burning before his own eyes. It was madness-pure madness-brought on by grief and hopelessness, love and loss. The mole-soldier wanted to run straight to the other side of the camp-but knew he could not. He had to help.

"Eat." he tried again. "You must-"

"Why did you remove her dress?" Jaime asked, his tone becoming darker, even more of a threat. "What did you do to her? Did you rape her?" The kingslayer was turning as white as the snow around him.

"No!" the mole-soldier protested desperately. "Of course n-"

"No, tell me." Jaime's whole body positively shook. "I need to hear exactly what happened to my wife. I need to hear every detail." In a sudden burst of life, he tried to lunge forward-but his chains prevented him, instead giving a loud clang against the wood of the tree.

The mole-soldier's blood froze. He found he could not move.

"You knew she was pregnant!" Jaime's voice trembled with something that was beyond rage, beyond grief. "You knew that in murdering her you also murdered my child! An innocent child!" His eyes were so bright with madness and tears that they were almost blinding, his voice rising to a scream. "If you have even a shred of decency in your evil, cowardly soul, you will tell me exactly what happened to Brienne!"

Suddenly-the general's voice. "You finally got him talking, hey, Stefen?" From far off, the man got to his feet, his hair almost luminous in the firelight, and approached his prisoner. The mole-soldier, named Stefen, quickly scrambled to his feet and stepped back respectfully. The general crouched down before Ser Jaime, a smile on his face. "Now we have your mouth moving, why not take some food? You know your sister the Queen will not be pleased if all I have to deliver to her is a corpse?"

Jaime looked up at the general, still shaking-but now-he hissed: "Fuck the Queen."

The general laughed throatily. "Yes, we all know you have!" He chortled at his own joke, before turning back to Jaime. "Thought you'd be pleased to have the opportunity to do it again. Not like anyone could stop her now. The Targaryens wed brother to sister for centuries-perhaps we will have another royal wedding soon? I love a party, don't you, kingslayer?"

Jaime seemed beyond words. But again-with the last of his strength-he lunged.

The general snickered as his chains pulled him back against the tree. "Pathetic. Eat. Or I will make this very painful for you. The Queen insisted I do whatever I had to in order to get you back to her…I take that as free reign don't you?" He threw a piece of bread into Jaime's lap. "See you in the morning, kingslayer."

As he left…Jaime slackened his legs. The bread fell into the snowy mud beneath.

Taking this as his cue-Stefen made to go-

"Stop."

Jaime had whipped his head around to look at him. His eyes burned.

"Stefen…or whatever your name is…I swear, before the old gods and the new gods that neither one of us will reach Kings Landing. I swear that I will kill you. Wherever you go, however far you run, you will never be able to hide from me. I will find you. And when I do…I will kill you. I care not how many I have to cut down to get to you. I will kill a hundred men if I had to, a thousand, however many stood between you and I. And then…I will kill you…and I will kill you slowly. And I will relish every moment of it. I will do this one thing for Brienne, though I could do nothing else for her…and then I swear I will kill myself. I broke my last oath to my wife, and the gods will punish me for every fucking vow I have forsaken-but I will not break this oath. I swear it that you will die by my hand, before I turn the blade on myself."

Stefen felt a chill pass through his very bones. He knew that he could say nothing, do nothing to put Ser Jaime out of his misery, lest he risk Brienne's safety from the Crown, and thereby compromise the North, where Cersei would launch another assault. He could not break his word to Lord Varys, fail his mission…it almost killed him to do it. He looked down at the kingslayer, a shadow of a man, chained to a tree.

"For your sake I hope that the heavens exist. I pray that you see her again."

With that-Stefen turned his back, unable to look at him a moment longer.