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Jaime watched the black haired smith moulding the glowing iron plate, sparks emitting with every blow. He leaned back at the pillar, taking a bite of his apple, he observed the boy work.

The smithy had been recommended to him years ago, however until now he hadn't had the need for something the smith of the King's Guard couldn't procure for him.

Sadly, gifts for fair maiden doesn't count as necessary for duty. Jaime chuckled silently at the thought, however as far as he could assess the King's Guard smith was colour-blind, or superstitious. White, all other colours are the spawns of the Stranger.

White wouldn't suit her very much.

The smith apprentice did good work, as much as Jaime could see. A tall strong boy, with dark black hair. His look reminded Jaime of the old King Robert. Even if it was hard to say for sure without whores, grease and wine all over the boy.

I hope that he isn't bad luck. Jaime thought to himself, mustering the boy more thorough. He was most likely one of Robert's bastards, the late King was always so eager to spread his seed all over every poor wench he laid eyes on.

But then, the boy did good work, seemed even talented and was clearly hardworking, virtues Robert had missed out on.

Jaime took another bite of his apple, leaning his head back on the hard wood and closed his eyes for a moment. The clatter of the Street of Steel was preferable to the clatter he had to suffer back in the Red Keep.

Cersei was especially bad. Since he had come back everything was a tragedy with her. Jaime had hoped that as soon as he was back everything would be better. By the gods, he had clawed his way out of the gods' forsaken Kingwood for her. But no, all he received from her was coldness, if she didn't use him to unleash her frustration on somebody.

Just a few days ago, his sweet sister had one of the worst tantrums in his memory. The Starkgirl apparently kneed Joffrey in his royal crown jewels. Jaime did not know why, but the boy probably had it coming. The King wasn't the most agreeable person. The boy had too much Robert in him.

He hadn't been hurt, much, nevertheless, Cersei had seemed it fit to make a drama out of the incident, a drama Jaime had apparently to suffer for.

Jaime hadn't put up with it that time, not after a week of neglect from her. He had told her that the boy was most likely to blame, but no, these notions didn't fit with her illusions about Joffrey. However, Jaime suspected she was so angry, not simply because she was protective, but also because the girl had gotten away with something Cersei had wanted to do to Robert more than once, but hadn't, because she had feared the consequences.

The girl had gotten away with it, because Cersei had said the poor grieving Ned couldn't hear of it. The northerner annoyed Jaime even more than before, and worse: Cersei seemed to care more for him and his feelings than for Jaime.

Stupid Ned

Jaime freely admitted to himself now that he was jealous. This northerner with his condescending way, pretending to be all good, the self-sacrificing grieving widower who worked day and night for the realm – with Jaime's sister. The sister who should take care in him not the Stark.

Cersei played in into the man's grief, she was so supportive and friendly and nice. It was so bad that Jaime wasn't sure anymore if it was her act or truth. What she did went far beyond the notion of securing her position and influence.

She had abandoned him for her 'duties', had let him alone and it made him angry, her reluctance to be with him, her constantly pinched face when they were alone. Why had to had it be so different? – Jaime wanted things simply to be back to normality again, wanted to be with his sister, now that Robert was gone they should spent every night together, but she seemed to prefer the cold wolf to him now.

Jaime's problems with Cersei were so bad that for the first time in his life he actually was envious of his little brother. He could not imagine that Sansa would cut Tyrion in the way Cersei did him. Jaime had always been sure he and Cersei had something, something given by nature, that was better than what anybody else could have. Now he wasn't sure anymore if they even had, or had had, what Sansa and Tyrion had.

Therefore, Jaime had decided to do the inglorious and leave the capital, to hurl himself back into the war. He had taken all self-control he could muster and had faced stupid Ned Stark asking permission, had to ask permission, to join the forces which would fight south.

And stern but oh so perfect Lord Stark of course 'allowed' him to do so. Jaime had wanted to spat in his face that he had changed his mind, but thought better of it. He would go south, unleashing his frustration on Stannis, imagining every face he bashed in to be stupid Ned's, he had nothing else to do.

Jaime had fulfilled the forced oath Mirk had made him take. Jaime had ended Ser Gregor Clegane's rampage through the Kingswood sending him off his quest and back to his keep in the Western Mountains. Mirk's words hadn't passed Jaime without effect, he wouldn't have his brother's monster around any longer.

It would be good to be out of the city again, away from all the drama, even if he would have to suffer the likes of Robb Stark, the lovesick pup. It was amusing to see the boy dancing around the rose of Highgarden, little Stark didn't realise that the rose had thorns yet and Jaime would hopefully be there when he found out.

However, Jaime hoped he wouldn't be entirely without agreeable company. He would ask the wench to join his little adventure. She had made a passable companion on his last, and since they had come back she had been agreeable company in King's Landing too, in her own crude way. Jaime would convince her to join him, therefor he stood in this smoky, loud smithy watching the probable bastard hammering his little bribe in shape.

He was about to drift back in his mind again, unconsciously raising his apple when suddenly his attention was caught by a shadow in the door. With interest Jaime raised his head and let his eyes flicker over the new patron in the smithy he needed for himself.

Through the door came a skinny frame with long hair, the crest of stupid Ned Stark on his arm. Deducting it was a squire Jaime wasn't about to waste another glance at him, until his eyes swiped over his face.

Jaime pressed his eyelids together, the smoke in the smithy had to play a jest with him, before he looked again. His mouth fell open, this couldn't be true. The apple slowly dropped out of his stiff hand while he starred in shock.

He was dumbfounded, so much that he lost his balance and had to catch himself loudly on the nearest table, startling the newcomer. Their eyes meet and now Jaime was sure. The attire couldn't fool him. He had seen Cersei often enough in men's cloth to notice a woman, no matter what she wore.

Arya Stark, Joffrey's reluctant and crown jewel smashing betrothed starred right back at him, standing in a dirty, smelling, dark smithy, wearing the cloth of a squire and, for most other men outrages, a pair of pants.

To her credit and Jaime's, a knight of the King's Guard, shame, she reacted quick, like a cat. It didn't take her a blink to free herself out of the paralysis both were captured in after recognising each other. She turned on her heels and fled the smithy, elegantly avoiding the various obstacles.

Jaime wasn't that quick, he needed a second to compose himself, until his instincts kicked in. He didn't thought about it, he simply raced after her, ignoring the confused bastard of Robert standing open mouthed at the his work.

Stumbling over the obstacles the Wolfgirl had avoided Jaime entered the Street of Steel. The street was busy and deafening, the crowd was thick and Jaime pressed himself through between two annoyed protesting Tully men, catching a glimpse at waving hair on a small frame in front of him. He pushed the next pedestrian out of his way diving after her. He was thankful he had forgo the white armour for his trip and had settled for a doublet and a sword belt together with a white cloak.

He ran down the street, keeping at the edge to avoid the crowd in the middle, running over several displays of smiths. Jaime threw away the cloak, holding him back, reducing the gap between them. The girl was fast, she tried to lose him in the crowd but she only managed to lose speed. Therefore she entered an alley and Jaime followed.

When he entered the alley he found her struggling to get back on her feet, she had missed a barrel. Jaime ceased the opportunity and grabbed her from behind, forcing her up. Having her in a headlock he closed his hand over her mouth, the last thing he wanted was for anyone to come look. The girl fought back, kicking and struggling, she aimed for his private parts, but he wouldn't be as easy as Joffrey.

Her struggle however had success. He pushed her away from him, falling back himself. Arya Stark stumbled, but stayed on her feed, turning to him. Her eyes glowed fierce when she took her stand. There were no more than three feet between them and for the out of breath Jaime it looked like the wolf had decided to fight.

"Shouldn't you be sewing or playing the harp?" he asked her cheeky, testing her triggers.

"Shouldn't you be guarding the King?" She replied defiantly moving her feet in a fighting stance. That she knew one mildly surprised Jaime.

"You are here, why should the King need protection?" Jaime grinned. He found the entire situation thrilling. He had no plan, simply had followed his instincts to hunt the little wolf down and now he wanted to see where all would lead. She didn't react to his comment, and there wasn't fear, so he said: "What does the daughter of great Regent Eddard Stark does in the Street of Steel. All alone without protection."

"It's none of your business!" She spat, glaring at him confidently. Brave she was, Jaime thought, brave and fierce like his Cersei but without her inhibitions. He looked her up and down, his look focusing on the sword at her side.

"And what is that?" he asked mockingly. "A toothpick or do you Starks think that's a weapon? Be careful you don't hurt yourself with your prop."

"I can handle myself, Lannister! Sod of!" She glared at him but didn't attempt to flee again.

She is as curious as I what happens next Jaime realised, a smirk forming on his face.

"I tell you what" He began taking a lazy stand. He wanted to know how much predator was in the girl. "I could take you to the court, ratting you out to your father – my sister would like that, she could complain about you violating Joffrey – but this wouldn't be fun." Jaime's eyes wandered through the alley finding what he sought. "Not to mention that, if I cause you trouble – especially now – your big sister could take vengeance on me –somehow. So…" Jaime took a step away and grabbed two wooden sticks leaning at the wall behind him. "Show me what you can" He threw one of the sticks to the dumbfounded girl, it landed at her feet. "If you win, I let you go and pretend I never met you. But If I win I get all the answers I want and a debt for not ratting you out." Jaime grinned widely. "And I collect all my debts."

He didn't know what rode him at this moment but it seemed like a good idea. He wouldn't have ratted her out, he actually liked the girl - how much he could like a Stark who wasn't attached to Tyrion's hip. His grin widened when little Arya picked the stick up, moving in a fighter stance Jaime hadn't seen for a long time.

"I have your word?" The girl posing like a Braavosi Waterdancer asked suspiciously, her eyes not leaving him.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you" He would go easy on her, after all what could this little skinny girl truly do against him. He raised his stick offering her the first attack. And she came.

Much faster than Jaime had expected she moved forward, her weapon reaching his, forcing him to retreat hastily to find his stance again.

"I did not know dancing in the North included such bolt moves" He teased her, only to hide his own surprise, he hadn't expected that. He reminisced suddenly over Brienne and how she bested him, revisiting his expectations. I should learn quicker He thought and dodged another attack.

"I will show you" She grunted, driving him backwards.

"Who is your dancing teacher" he asked still playing the condescending adult, while he avoided another blow from her, moving in a more serious position before starting a counter attack, driving her back.

"You won't know him" She breathed heavily, ducking away under his raised arm. She was talented, without a doubt, but Jaime was the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms and she wouldn't beat him. He hit after her and she stumbled backwards, falling on one knee.

"Are we done yet?" Jaime smirked, he wouldn't let her know how impressed he was, not yet.

"You wish" She attacked again, more wrath than calculation behind her blows this time. Jaime easily avoided her in advance of landing a blow on her back, dancing around her, setting her in another stumble.

"Anger" He observed. "Stupid."

"Shut up!" She attacked again, and Jaime danced aside, again.

"What upsets you my Lady?" He mocked her, observing her keen. He would push a few more of her buttons just to see where it would go. "Does Joffrey doesn't pay enough attention to you?"

The glare she sent him made him gulp. Shewolf and lioness! This is out of the question Jaime thought, bracing himself for another attack, a bad one this time, and maybe not for her.

She practical jumped him, driving him back again, hitting his shin hard enough to make him grind his teeth. He fell back, letting her drive him in another alley were he sought the advantage.

He got it, grabbing her arm he hurled her around and brought space between them.

She stood opposite to him, breathing heavily she raised her stick, Jaime looked her in the eye, this wasn't good for him.

"Do you think I care for Wormy?" She spat out venomously. Jaime needed a great effort not to laugh out at the moment. Wormy, not without imagine this one. Jaime raised his eyebrows waiting for another attack but instead she continued her rant: "Or for my father and the Queen being besotted with each other?"

"LIE!" Jaime screamed out, ""They are NOT!" Jaime lost his composure for a moment, her suspecting the same he did, saying it aloud made him lose it. He stormed at her, to late he saw how cunning she used his hot-headedness, landing another painful blow, this time in his rips.

"I am not a stupid child, you know." She spat again, trembling. "I see them talk, and laugh." LAUGH, Jaime's eyes widened alerted, how could they? How could Cersei do this? He straightened up, trying to control himself, waiting for another attack but it didn't come, instead she continued: "My mother is dead and all my father does is tangling with her, leaving me alone. This here," She raised both of her arms "is the only thing I can do what is not composed of the worst time of my life." Her hand trembled, Jaime was sure she was close to tears. A knob formed in his belly – he felt sorry for her. He thought briefly about to let go of the stick and hug her. The last thing he wanted was Arya Stark breaking down in front of him, but it seemed to be the right thing to do.

He didn't, he offered her a fight, not a shoulder to cry on. If she was only a bit as Jaime suspected, she didn't want a hug, but a victory. He would give it to her, after all they were family.

Jaime attacked her again, only this time he loosened his grip on the stick, making small mistakes. Not enough for her to notice but enough to give her a fair chance to win.

The girl jumped at the chance and ceased his open flank hitting him in the rips again, hard enough for Jaime to release all air out of his lungs, fearing she could have broken a rip or two. He let the stick fall to the ground, stumbling in the mud.

"Good girl." He looked upwards, slowly rising. She looked suspicious, but very pleased with herself as well.

"And now?" She asked carefully, raising her stick towards his face.

"I made a promise," Jaime held his aching rips. I should led a Maester look at them "I never saw you." He smirked at her and added: "I will tell the smith you played a prank on me once and I wanted to repay you." He assured her, suspecting she hadn't been to the smithy for the first time. "No go, and don't let anyone catch you again." He advised her nonchalantly, waving her away. "Next time I won't go easy on you."

She lingered for another moment, looking him up and down, she snorted and disappeared in another alleyway.

Jaime let out a painful groan looking after her. Poor Joffrey, the boy hasn't a clue who he is to marry, a wild wolf would be more pleasant. Sadly, Jaime wouldn't be there to see it, he would be gone, shall they tangle with who they want.

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