Jaime wasn't in his room that morning. This was fairly common, so Ren waited, completing as many of his duties as he could in the meantime. He didn't have many; considering he was the former heir of the richest family in Westeros, Jaime Lannister required surprisingly little looking after. The man wasn't what Ren had expected, nor was he who Ren had expected to squire for when he and his mother had left Winterfell for King's Landing. He was near certain that Jaime was indeed his father, no other explanation made sense. It wasn't just the fact they looked somewhat similar if you paid attention. The way his mother acted around him was proof enough. To anyone who didn't know her well it would be unnoticeable, but Ren caught the looks they exchanged, the smiles she sometimes sent him, how there was a level of familiarity between them that went beyond mere friends. He supposed the fact he knew would have to stay a secret. Things were fine the way they were.

Jaime returned soon enough. He didn't say where he'd been - he never did - and Ren didn't ask. He could guess, though. He bet his mother hadn't been up early either.

"Enjoy the feast last night?" Ren asked him. Jaime laughed.

"Something like that," Ren fought the urge to grimace. "What about you?" He looked up to see Jaime smirking at him. "With your pretty little serving wench?" His smile faded.

"I'd drunk too much," He said flatly. "Nothing happened," Jaime raised an eyebrow, but Ren said nothing. He was lying, of course. Lizzie had been his first, two years ago when he'd last visited Winterfell, and they'd been friends long before that. It didn't seem right discussing her like a whore. With any other girl, he'd have been laughing with Loreon or Jaime over details already, but not with Lizzie.

"She seemed to like you," Jaime's tone was deliberately light.

"That she does," He couldn't help but say, and Jaime met his eyes with an amused look.

Ren didn't see Lizzie that morning, though he wouldn't say he was looking for her. Judging from the amount he'd seen her drink, she was probably nursing a pounding headache. After breakfast, he was surprised to see the spare direwolf pup - the kennel boys had been calling him Crow in his absence, which seemed to have stuck, as the black wolf wouldn't answer to anything else - waiting for him outside the armoury. It had tagged along with him after the children had shown him the pups the previous night, but he had assumed it was following the group. Few people were around now, so he let the wolf trot along at his heels as he met Jaime for their usual training routine. The yard was deserted at this hour, most of the castle still at breakfast or in bed. A few servants milled around, but most of them were too busy to pay much more attention than some curious glances. Crow sat a short distance away, watching intently.

"Good," Jaime muttered as Ren deflected a particularly difficult blow. He had yet to disarm the man, one of the best swords in Westeros - when Jaime fought with his right hand, that is - but he was improving at a considerable rate. It was in his blood, he supposed.

"Stop," He backed off at Jaime's order. "You need to be quicker with that downwards parry or I could open up your stomach before you get the blade down. Try it again,"

This fight was fiercer. He could see Jaime's grin grow as he successfully blocked with the move he'd been lacking in, carrying on and returning it with one of his own that almost - almost - caught Jaime by surprise. At this the grin was replaced by a smirk and his moves became more ferocious. Ren answered with a quick succession of complicated blows, succeeding in driving Jaime back a few steps before the knight responded in kind, using all the tricks and skills he'd taught Ren with before, which, to both of their satisfaction, Ren knew exactly how to block. It was hard to tell how long their fight lasted, but it ended as it always did, with Jaime's sword at his throat. It remained there for a few seconds, both of them breathing heavily, before Jaime lowered it.

"Don't let this go to your head," He gave him a sideways look. "But I do believe you're getting quite good at this," He paused. "You could teach Joffrey a thing or ten," Joffrey had hated him ever since Ren had been drafted in as the prince's sparring partner for a short time when he was twelve; having beaten him every single time, he was soon traded for someone more likely to let Joffrey win. He preferred Tommen, much more.

"Bastards don't spar with princes," Ren shrugged. Jaime grimaced.

"No," He agreed. "They don't," There was a short silence. "Are your cousins any good? Your brother?"

"They all are," Ren said. "Jon's talented with a sword, but he won't be allowed, obviously. Robb's almost as good a swordsman, but he's a better lance. Edrick's just as good as Robb despite being younger, mostly due to pure stubbornness. Your nephew will have to watch himself. Prince or not, my brother won't take kindly to him if he acts like he normally does,"

"My nephew," There was a strange look on Jaime's face. "Why am I not proud?"

"They'll have trouble with the other two," Ren said. "Robert'll let Loreon spar, just not with Joffrey, he's more than good. And Tommen's not bad for his age," Tommen, though he hadn't entirely shed that slight childhood plumpness yet, was decent with a sword. He would never be a prodigy, and disliked violence of any kind, but was very diligent and didn't give up easily, which counted for something.

"He shouldn't be bad," Jaime frowned. "You know I hold no love for Robert Baratheon, but before drink, gluttony and my sisters got to him, he always was good in a fight. It makes sense for at least one of his sons to be the same," His expression suddenly lightened. "Now, let's see if you can beat me wrong-handed," That was something they had included in their training sessions almost from the first. Jaime, amused by his new left-handed squire, had wanted to see if the then ten year old Ren could beat him if they both fought with their left hands. He had. Outraged, Jaime had then set out to learn to fight with his left hand as well as he fought with his right, which had been a harder process than he had expected, as though the reflexes were still there, they were wired to position the right hand to fight and the left to shield; unlearning that was more complicated than simply swapping hands. But Jaime had managed it, and though his left hand was not near as good as his right, he was a far better than average swordsman even when fighting wrong-handed. When it came to a fight between Jaime using his left and Ren using his right, Jaime tended to be the victor.

Later, Ren sat on a windowsill in the covered bridge between the armory and the Great Keep, leaning against the wall. This seemed to be where the bastards of Winterfell came to commiserate; Jon was there, one leg drawn up to his chin and wore a solemn expression. Morganna sat between them, leaning against Ren's legs as they all watched the activities below; she was meant to be sewing with the other young ladies and Sansa and Arya's Septa, but hadn't wanted to go, so didn't. Crow, who seemed to have decided he belonged to Ren, and Jon's wolf Ghost were content to sit beneath them.

"This is shit," Ren watched the other boys sparring under the watchful eye of Ser Rodrik. It was torture just watching, not being able to do anything. Loreon was showing off, as ever, having beaten Robb, Edrick and Theon Greyjoy in quick succession, before having a go with Tommen, then Bran to humour him (he'd done better than expected). They'd all taken it well though, laughing and clapping each other on the back. Tommen had fought them all too, and though he had lost most of the matches - except one against Robb, one against Edrick and all but one against Bran - he had taken it with good grace and an easy smile. Now Joffrey, a blond boy of thirteen, had just been beaten by Robb and had declared the victory unfair, retreating back to the protection of the Hound. Gods, he was a cunt; the secret knowledge he was Ren's cousin only made it worse. It was safe to say that the heir to the Iron Throne and Rosennis Stark's bastard loathed each other, but Joffrey never dared to do more than verbally belittle him - fear of his father caused that, the king was fond of Ren's mother - which Ren could make himself ignore. He had perfected the disdainful look his mother used, the one that made the person on the receiving end feel like a childish piece of shit. It also helped that could beat Joffrey in a fight blindfolded with his good hand tied behind his back. Which made it all the more agonising that he could do no more than watch now.

"That's how it is," Jon's said dull. Loreon was now stepping forward to fight Edrick again. He couldn't have been more different to Joffrey if he tried, and not only in looks. Maybe that was why he was Robert's favourite; Joffrey was tall, but Loreon was taller, with the same muscular build the King had had in his youth, as well as his fighting prowess. He shared the dark hair, blue eyes and handsome looks of his father too, unlike his half-brother. Joffrey - his twin Myrcella and Tommen too - looked all Lannister, blond haired and green eyes, and Joffrey could scarcely swing a sword.

"He's good," Ren said of his friend, having wanted to prove the point earlier, and though Jon didn't take his eyes off the fight he knew he was listening.

"He is strong," Jon acknowledged non-committedly. Edrick - who did learn quickly, and was faring much better than the last round - took a very sharp swipe at Loreon that by all rights should've disarmed him, but he nimbly sidestepped and returned with a strong blow of his own. Jon looked impressed. "And quick. Very quick. How, with that huge sword?"

"That's nothing," Ren smirked. "You should see the greatsword he has back in King's Landing, I can barely lift it. He wasn't Barristan Selmy's squire for nothing," Jon's eyes widened.

"He was his squire?" His cousin looked impressed. "Why not his uncle? I mean, I know there's you, but..."

"They fight completely differently, it wouldn't work," Jon frowned so he elaborated. "I fight like Jaime Lannister. I can't rely on brute strength I don't have. Loreon has a different build and a different mindset - he's fast, but he can count on strength to win. He wouldn't suit how Jaime taught me," Jon nodded in understanding.

A while later they heard the padding of six feet come down the corridor, and Ren looked up to see Arya and her direwolf, Nymeria, approaching. Jon, as absorbed as he was, didn't notice until their wolves jumped up to greet their littermate, and gave Arya a curious look.

"Shouldn't you be working on your stitches, little sister?" Morganna snorted at that.

"And looking after the princess," Ren added, glancing at his sister; Lady Catelyn had told her daughters to befriend Myrcella - Sansa would love to, and Aileen would sit in the room at least - but Ren privately thought Arya and Morganna were more likely to tear the dainty Myrcella apart; he rarely interacted with Joffrey's twin, but she seemed the perfect lady. Morganna was a wolf in lady's clothing, whilst Arya didn't even bother with the disguise. The girl made a face.

"I wanted to see them fight,"

"Good girl," Ren said. Jon smiled.

"Come here, then," Arya scrambled up to sit between them, squashing up beside Morganna, who protested a little but budged up to make room. It was still Edrick sparring with Loreon, a match that had been going for a while, yet the spectators were still calling out various encouragements.

"A shade more exhausting than needlework," Jon observed, as the round continued. Edrick looked exhausted - but was too stubborn to yield - and even Loreon looked to be getting tired, having been fighting almost nonstop.

"A shade more fun than needlework," Arya shot back. Morganna grinned. Jon grinned, reached over and messed up her hair even as Arya flushed.

"Why aren't you down in the yard?" She asked him. Ren looked at Jon.

"Bastards are not allowed to damage young princes," Jon explained.

"Oh," Arya looked a little guilty. She eyed her brothers down below. "I could do just as good as Bran," Ren didn't doubt that.

"You're too skinny," Jon took her arm to feel her muscle, shaking his head. "I doubt you could even lift a longsword, little sister, never mind swing one," His words were oddly similar to Sansa's the other night. Arya snatched her arm back, glaring at him. Jon messed up her hair again and Ren thought she might hit him, but they fell into a comfortable silence.

"Look at Prince Joffrey," Morganna said scornfully. Ren agreed. The Prince lounged against the wall, surrounded by all his lackeys, a lot of the younger squires of Lannister and Baratheon knights, and several knights and guardsmen themselves. The Hound, of course, was present. "He didn't like Robb beating him earlier, so claimed it was an unfair win," Arya wrinkled her nose.

"What a baby," She said. "I could definitely do better than him,"

"I won't deny that," Ren snorted.

"Look at the arms on his surcoat," Jon pointed out the crowned stag of House Baratheon and the lion of Lannister. "The Lannisters are proud," Jon was disapproving. "You'd think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. He makes his mother's House equal in honour to the King's,"

"The woman is important too!" Arya protested.

"Not that woman," Ren muttered. He'd seen the true colours of beautiful Queen Cersei - his aunt - when he'd been around Loreon. Jon chuckled.

"Perhaps you should do the same thing, little sister," He suggested to Arya. "Wed Tully to Stark in your arms,"

"A wolf with a fish in its mouth?" Arya laughed. "That would look silly. Besides, if a girl can't fight, why should she have a coat of arms?"

"Girls get the arms but not the swords," Jon shrugged. "Bastards get the swords but not the arms," Arya scowled, and Jon smiled faintly at her.

"I did not make the rules, little sister," Below, Loreon had beaten Edrick after a long fight, and both were grinning and shaking hands.

"Well fought," Ser Rodrik marched up. "Lew, Donnis, help them out of their armour." He looked around. "Prince Joffrey, Robb, will you go another round?"

"This should be good," Ren muttered. Arya's eyes were wide with anticipation. Robb moved forward eagerly. Joffrey, however, lazily got up, feigning an air of haughty boredom but not doing nearly as good a job of it as his uncle could.

"This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik," He said disdainfully.

"You are children," Theon snorted.

"Robb may be a child," Joffrey, who was a year younger, said. "I am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword,"

"Little bastard," Ren remarked lightly, making the girls laugh and Jon smile. He saw Loreon eyeing his half-brother with dislike, but wisely keeping out of it as Tommen edged closer to him. Joffrey and his mother loathed Loreon enough as it was; everyone knew the only reason Loreon had survived a month in the Red Keep was that his mother was a Lannister and Lord Tywin - the king, too - would have the head of anyone who touched him, bastard or not.

"You just don't want to be beaten again," Edrick heckled from where he was being helped out of his armour, earning laughs from the Stark men watching. Arya and Morganna laughed. Loreon too looked amused. Joffrey did not.

"If Stark had fought fairly - "

"You got more swats than you gave, Joff, there's the truth of it," Robb said good naturedly, grinning. "Are you afraid?"

"Oh, terrified," Joffrey sneered at him. "You're so much older." Some of the Lannister men laughed as Ren shook his head, Jon frowning beside him.

"Little shit," Jon agreed.

"What are you suggesting?" Ser Rodrik tugged at his beard, eyeing the prince.

"Live steel," Ren laughed lightly, shaking his head at Joffrey's request.

"Do it, Robb, teach him a lesson," Edrick was as scrappy as ever.

"Where's Aileen?" Morganna asked. "Edrick's not as much of a prat with her around,"

"Done," Robb shot back, angry now. "You'll be sorry!"

"This isn't going to end well," Ren pushed himself off the windowsill. The four of them ran, direwolves at their heels, the short distance to the yard, to see that despite being offered tourney swords, Joffrey still insisted on live steel.

"Oh look," Joffrey looked up as they emerged. "It's Winterfell's bastards. Such a shame you can't join us. If only you were allowed," Jon took on a dark expression and Robb and Edrick protested angrily, but Loreon said nothing.

"The girls are trueborn," Ren said mildly, nudging a scowling Arya - shorter than Morganna by a head - forward. "I'm sure Lady Arya would make a worthy opponent for you if you'd rather not fight her brothers, my Prince," The Stark men roared with laughter, Loreon grinned at him and Ren smiled with a cruel edge as Joffrey flushed in anger and eyed him maliciously. Ren gave him the Look. Joffrey glared but backed down, knowing Ren shared his mother's sharp tongue and doubtless remembering the times he'd been humiliated before in front of others for picking a war of words. Instead, he looked to the Hound.

"This is your prince," The huge man stepped forward, speaking to Ser Rodrik. "Who are you to tell him he may not have an edge on his sword, ser?"

"Master-at-arms of Winterfell, Clegane, and you would do well not to forget it," Ser Rodrik's face was stern.

"Are you training women here?" Clegane asked.

"I am training knights," Ser Rodrik said. "They will have steel when they are ready. When they are of an age,"

"How old are you, boy?" The Hound turned to Robb.

"Fourteen,"

"I killed a man at twelve," He said bluntly. "You can be sure it was not with a blunt sword," Robb bristled and turned on Ser Rodrik.

"Let me do it," Robb said lowly. "I can beat him,"

"You'd like to see that as much as we do," Edrick.

"Beat him with a tourney blade, then," Ser Rodrik said flatly.

"Robb, leave it," Ren advised. As much as he would enjoy the sight, it wasn't worth the trouble. Joffrey shrugged infuriatingly.

"Come and see me when you're older, Stark," He started to wander away. "If you're not too old," There was laughter from the Lannister men and the Stark boys' equally furious curses rang through the yard. Arya covered her mouth in shock and Morganna's eyes widened. Jon and Theon seized Robb's arm to keep him away from the prince, whilst Ren, Arya and Morganna grabbed the angrier Edrick.

"Come, Tommen," Joffrey feigned a yawn and turned to his younger brother with a smirk. Ren raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "The hour of play is done. Let us leave the children to their frolics," His words brought more laughter from the Lannisters and more curses from the Starks, but Tommen didn't move from Loreon's side, looking embarrassed, even slightly angry. Good, he'd finally grown a backbone. Ser Rodrik's face was red with rage and it was all they could do to hold Robb and Edrick back. Loreon looked irritated but did nothing, except clap Tommen on the shoulder.

Despite this, Ren thought the danger had passed. It would have, too, had Joffrey not dared to make one more comment, this time addressed to him personally.

"I was trying not to judge House Stark by the standards of you and your whore mother, bastard, but it seems in that I was sadly mistaken," This was nothing Ren wasn't used to from the boy, but he made the mistake of stepping forward to give a sharp retort, awaiting the amusing purple colour the Prince turned when humiliated. Edrick took the opportunity to lunge at Joffrey, spitting with fury. It appeared that he wrenched out of his captor's grip, but Ren saw a faint smile on his little sister's face. She'd let him go.

"Fuck," Ren sprinted forward as his brother threw himself at Joffrey, knocking him to the floor and punching every bit of him he could reach. The prince was wailing, getting in a few weak hits but doing nothing against his stronger attacker. Ren sadly couldn't allow himself to enjoy the glorious scene, and as the first to reach the pair he quickly pulled Edrick off, slapping him hard around the face to snap him out of it. His brother was breathing heavily, face still flushed, so angry that he was shaking. Arya joined them, looking more excited than anything and grinning at Joffrey. The prince had been dragged to his feet by an unsympathetic Hound and gracelessly dumped him into the arms of his cooing lackeys, then the man marched over to their group, sword drawn.

"Fucking brilliant, Bolton, well done," Ren heard Theon mutter as Robb and Jon stiffened, wordlessly shoving the girls behind them. Ren caught Loreon's eye - his friend had stepped forward - and shook his head. Loreon fell back.

"Now that," The Hound leered unpleasantly at Edrick as he neared. "Was a direct attack on the heir to the throne. That's treason,"

"He's twelve," Ren stepped up next to Robb and drew his own sword to face Clegane. He had spoken with him on occasion, sparred often, and was probably as friendly with him as the surly man got with anyone, but he knew that counted for nothing. "He wasn't thinking," The man looked amused at the sight.

"Put that down, boy, before you take someone's eye out,"

"And let you take mine out for me?" Clegane laughed at that but didn't deny it.

"Kill him!" Joffrey had recovered enough to screech across the yard. Ren was satisfied to see the prince had a bruised face, a black eye, a split lip and his fine clothes were torn and dirty. "How dare he attack me! Hound, I command you tear his head off and stick it on a spike on the battlements. His dirty bastard cousin too," Your dirty bastard cousin, too. Clegane raised a pointed eyebrow at Ren, darkly amused. The man might be disdainful of Joffrey's behaviour, but he still did his bidding. He stepped forward, and Ren did too.

Their swords met in a clang of steel as Robb shouted in alarm. Ren didn't think the Hound would kill him, not just on Joffrey's orders, but he wasn't entirely sure. Somehow this didn't scare him; it made him feel more alive than ever. The Hound was a savage fighter, far less graceful than Jaime but stronger, more vicious and scarily fast, easily one of the most skilled people he had fought. But Ren kept up with him, moving instinctively. There wasn't time to be scared, only time to react. He was dimly aware of shouting in the background, men trying to break up the fight, but none were successful until a third sword came into the fray, getting in between them easily. This, as well as a loud shout, broke them apart.

"STOP!" They sprung apart as King Robert bellowed at them as he crossed the yard. "What in the seven hells is this?" Behind him, Ren's uncle followed, less imposing but just as intimidating in his anger. Jaime stood between Ren and the Hound, sword warningly between them. Ren let his sword fall to his side as did Clegane. Jaime gave him a sharp look. Asking if he was alright. Ren nodded, once. He was still buzzing with adrenaline, blood pounding in his ears.

"That lowborn northern savage attacked me!" Joffrey was spitting, jabbing a finger at Edrick, who glowered indignantly. "I want him flogged! I want him dead! I want him hung from his own battlements - "

"Enough," Robert, though fat, still had the thunderous voice of the rebellion leader he had been. Ours is the fury indeed. "Ned, explain the behaviour of the Bolton boy and how in the name of the Gods it ended in the Hound fighting your nephew," Ren's uncle shook his head.

"Edrick's behaviour is inexcusable," He spoke in the cold voice of Lord Stark, showing he was truly furious. Edrick hung his head. "I had expected better from my sister's son," Ren suspected their mother would take Edrick's side in this - Joffrey had called her a whore, after all, and she wasn't the forgiving type - though it could go either way in public. "As to an explanation, your Grace, I know as little as you. Ser Rodrik, explain,"

"Yes, my Lord," Ser Rodrik stepped in quickly. "Your Grace, there was a... disagreement. Prince Joffrey felt that our current activities were for children and wanted to fight with live steel. I offered tourney swords on the grounds live steel would be too dangerous - "

"Damned right!" Robert interrupted, with a glare at his son. "You are the heir to the Iron Throne, gods help us all. Are you a lackwit, boy?" Joffrey flushed even more, about to speak. "Don't say a word,"

"Set Rodrik, continue," At his uncle's prompting, Rodrik carried on.

"The Prince was, ah, unhappy with this," He hesitated slightly. "He started... goading Robb, with taunts, I can only assume trying to provoke him into a fight. My Lord, your son and nephew kept their restraint well enough, however the last remark was enough to goad Edrick into attacking,"

"And what was this last remark?"

"It was..." Rodrik looked uneasy. "It was regarding your sister, my Lord, Edrick's mother. Lady Rosennis. It - it implied certain unpleasant things about her honour," Ren's uncle's expression grew even more grim, however this didn't seem to be directed at his nephew.

"You would insult the sister of your host in his own home?" Robert bellowed at Joffrey. Ned placed a steadying hand on his arm and focused back on Edrick.

"However much you were provoked, there is no excuse for attacking a Prince," Ren's uncle spoke in a steady voice but with a steely note underneath that promised dire consequences. It was hard to make Eddard Stark even that obviously angry, and Edrick clearly knew this too as he faltered, but then his angry expression returned and he glared at Joffrey.

"That doesn't explain this," Robert waved a hand at Ren. "How did a squire end up set against Clegane?"

"Ren was protecting me," Edrick said without hesitation.

"Edrick - " Ren warned, but was interrupted by the King.

"From the Hound?"

"Joffrey told him to cut off my head," Edrick glared again at the boy. "And Ren's too. You heard him. And he went to do it! If Ren hadn't fought him, he would've, I know it!"

"Is this true?" His uncle asked Ren sharply.

"To a point," He said carefully. "I don't think he would have actually killed anyone," Clegane snorted but didn't disagree.

"But you attacked them nonetheless," The Hound shrugged.

"I follow orders,"

"Seven fucking hells, Clegane," Robert groaned. "Joffrey is a boy, a foolish one at that. He has no right to order an execution, let alone that of a lord's son!"

"I do what I'm told," The Hound said, unconcerned, earning him Ned Stark's glare. "And I felt like a good fight," Robert sighed heavily.

"Ned, this can't go unpunished," The way he spoke, it was like the whole thing was too much bother. "I know my son can be a cunt, but your boy did attack a prince. Just - oh I don't know, you think of something suitable. Punish him as you see fit. Joffrey, for gods sake go find the Maester before your mother sees you. Now if that's all sorted, I've got lunch to get back to,"

"What about him?" Joffrey said petulantly, pointing at Ren. "He deserves punishment," For what, exactly, Ren wasn't sure. Robert looked exasperated, just wanting the whole thing to be over with.

"Kingslayer!" He waved impatiently, and Ren bit back a grin. "He's your squire, punish him if you want but I really couldn't care less. Now, anyone else disturbs me before I've eaten and I'll have them in the stocks for a week - that includes the queen!" And with that, the King of the Seven Kingdoms went back into the keep, followed by his guards, Joffrey and his lackeys. Loreon went with them, leaving only Stark men and Jaime in the yard. There was a heavy, icy silence.

"Uncle, I'm sorry - " Edrick started, but Ned cut him off with a look.

"Go to your chambers and stay there until I come for you," Ren's uncle's voice was icy. Edrick made to protest but his father raised an eyebrow. "Now," He went.

"You can't punish Edrick, father," Arya stepped forward. "Joffrey said awful things, and he's a craven, and a liar! He deserved - "

"Arya," Ned's voice was still cold. "Get back to Septa Mordane. You shouldn't even be here. Morganna, go with her," His tone left no room for argument. Arya found some anyway.

"I hate needlework!" The girl protested, but under her father's stern stare she relented and stormed inside grumbling about unfairness. Morganna and the she-wolf followed with somewhat more grace, with a glance back at Ren.

"Jon, Robb," Ned turned to the two. "You can go. Thank you for trying," Casting a regretful look at Ren, Robb left, followed by Jon, Grey Wind and Ghost. Then his uncle finally turned to him.

"Ren, I have to - " He was interrupted.

"Lord Stark, I do believe the king deemed Ren's punishment to be my responsibility," Jaime stepped forward, a hint of a threat in his voice, placing a hand on Ren's shoulder. His uncle didn't visibly react, but Ren could tell this angered him. Then something seemed to change in his expression as he looked between Ren and Jaime.

"Aye, he did," He seemed almost... resigned. Jaime nodded in acknowledgement. "You've more right than I," Ren felt Jaime's hand on his shoulder tense, and there was a moment where the two men held eye contact for longer than could be deemed normal. Did that mean he knew..? Then his uncle stepped back. "Lannister,"

"Stark," His uncle returned to the castle, and Jaime led him away.

"Am I getting a punishment?" He turned to Jaime curiously.

"Of course," Jaime said. "You can polish my boots for tomorrow," Ren turned to him.

"I was meant to do that anyway,"

"Ah well. Now," Jaime smirked slightly. "Are you going to tell your mother you got into a fight with Sandor Clegane and your brother attacked a prince, or are you going to let her find out herself?"

"Fuck," Ren felt like groaning. Jaime gave a short laugh. "Can't you do it?" The knight scoffed.

"Think of that as your punishment," There was a pause. "What did Joffrey say about her?" He spoke lightly.

"I can repeat it word for word," Ren said dully. "'I was trying not to judge House Stark by you or your whore mother, bastard, but it seems I was mistaken'," Jaime said nothing and his expression didn't change. They continued to walk, then he abruptly broke the silence.

"What do you think about being a bastard?" This was the first time Jaime had ever asked him anything like that.

"Probably similar to what you think about being a Kingslayer," Ren was a little surprised by the question. Jaime wasn't normally one to dwell on things like that. "It is what it is, and there's no changing it. Let people say what they will. I don't care what they think, or let them think that at least. I know I can beat any of them into the dirt any day," Jaime grinned at that, his agreement unspoken, and Ren smiled faintly.

"Ren," Ren turned around as his name was called, and Jaime stopped. Aileen was coming towards them, looking harried. "What happened? Edrick's shut up in his rooms nursing a bloody lip, and Lord Stark's furious," He didn't miss how Jaime eyed his half-sister, almost appraisingly. He wondered what it was like to look upon the child of your lover and another man. Though Aileen was black-haired and pale eyed, rather shorter too, and looked little like their mother.

"He attacked Joffrey," His sister nodded in understanding.

"He probably deserved it," Jaime laughed at that, and Aileen looked at him. "Beg pardons, Ser," She didn't try to deny her statement, nor did she sound all that sorry, merely spoke neutrally. Jaime waved a hand in dismissal, and she turned back to Ren with a raised eyebrow.

"He insulted Robb," He said in explanation. "And called Mother a whore," Aileen's eyes narrowed; the words of agreement, that she doubtlessly felt, didn't need to be said.

"I'll go and sit with him," She didn't saying goodbye before she hurried off. Unlike Morgana, who knew social graces and tended to ignore them, Aileen had never bothered to learn them, preferring to spend her time with her nose buried in a book. Ren hoped it would serve her better than empty courtesies and pretty words.