'By the way,' Jaime remarked, lunging, the godswood leaves fragile beneath his feet, 'I heard the strangest thing in the practice yard this morning.'

'What?' Arya grunted, parrying.

'Walder Frey has met with an unfortunate accident.'

'What accident? Feet!'

'The permanent kind.'

Arya halted, ignoring Jaime as he tapped her triumphantly on the shoulder with his sword.

'So Walder Frey is dead?

'Yes. No. Well, yes, he is. Just not the Walder Frey.'

'Which one, then?'

'Tiny Walder.'

Arya stared at him.

'Diminutive Walder. Baby Walder.'

'Small Walder?'

'That's the one,' Jaime remarked, and attacked again, laughing as Arya took a somewhat clumsy leap backwards to avoid his blade, 'I do hope you enjoyed yourself.'

'Wasn't me,' Arya grunted.

'If you need someone to watch the door next time, you need only ask.'

'It wasn't me.'

'Seven hells, Stark, do you still think you can lie to me?' Jaime pronounced, then yelped as Arya dropped her sword and predictably threw herself at his throat, sending them both crashing to the ground.

'Stark, while I do enjoy all scenarios that involve you sitting in my lap,' Jaime insisted, struggling as Arya attempted to fasten her fingers around his throat, 'I think I am getting too old for this!'

'Are you hurt?' she asked.

'I think I felt something snap,' Jaime groaned, closing his eyes in what he hoped was a convincing manner.

'Are you fucking with me, Lannister?' Arya demanded.

'Utterly and completely.'

He watched her seethe, and try not to laugh. Then she gripped his doublet in both her fists, and kissed him for a far shorter time than he might have liked.

Jaime watched as Arya slumped onto the ground next to him and rolled onto her back, the leaves red in her hair.

'How did he die?' she mumbled.

'You tell me, little wolf.'

'It wasn't me.'

He examined her expression carefully, and perceived from the look on her face that she was lying her head off.

Jaime cocked an eyebrow at her.

'Wouldn't you have heard me leave?' she insisted, 'or seen me washing off the blood, for that matter?'

'Doesn't matter; you still did it –'

'I did not!'

'– so you might as well let me help you.'

'Like you 'helped' me at the feast, that kind of help?'

Jaime snorted.

'Ah! I've been waiting for that one! Yes, Stark, I mean precisely that kind of help –'

'Starting a brawl at a royal feast kind of help?'

'Stark!'

'What?'

'You are my wife, and I will protect you, whether you want me to or not.'

'You were stupid and irresponsible –'

'And that old cunt wasn't?'

'– and I can take care of myself!'

That hurt, even though it was true, and Jaime stared, aghast, at Arya's poised face and cold eyes; remembering how she had been afterwards; silent, within herself, but her fingers gripping his arm, as though holding onto more than him.

'You've become very dull lately,' he stated eventually, in a way that he hoped seemed flippant, 'did you know that?'

Arya shifted her weight onto her elbow and leaned closer to him, her lips at his ear.

'Little bird,' she murmured.

Jaime felt his heart leap into his throat.

'Don't look,' she growled, kissing the skin beneath his earlobe, and smiling, and withdrawing, as she felt him gasp.

Jaime turned his head so that they were face to face, their noses almost touching, and gave her a look that he hoped was sufficiently withered to convey his exasperation, both at her behaviour, and at her request. Don't look, indeed. Arya grinned sheepishly for a moment, and then her eyes flashed, briefly, to a place on the left, out of his line of vision.

She leaned forward and kissed him softly.

'Listen,' she murmured against his lips.

Jaime felt his mind unhook and his water dancer's senses draw the invisible world before him. The trees built themselves in walls of sound while the leaves fluttered from branch to ground like birdsong. In the midst of the melody was a shape, only three trees away from where they lay; small, hunched and so utterly unmoving that he wondered if it was alive at all.

For a moment, he felt inclined to go after it. It was too small to go very far, very fast, and besides, he was curious to know what else it had seen and heard. But Arya was grinning at him, and playing with the top clasp of his doublet, and he found that the presence of little birds did not trouble him.

Jaime cupped Arya's cheek with his one good hand and drew her towards him.

'You're far too smart for your own good,' he murmured.

'I know,' she said, and when his lips met hers, he could feel her smiling.