Jaime had to admit that the men of the Nights Watch made a foreboding wall of fur and steel when greeting their group as they arrived at the castle gates.
The men he and Brienne had fought and bled with now snarled and spat at those they brought to sanctuary.
"I wish to speak with the Lord Commander," Brienne said clearly, "John Snow. Or the brother, Tyrion Lannister."
"And what makes you think they are here, wench?" One of the more gnarled of the number snarled at them and their guests.
"Oh!" Jaime shook his head, unable to stop himself from stepping forward, "Only I can call her wench."
The glorious sigh of freed steel sang through the air as the thirty Nightwatch unsheathed their swords and Jaime felt the blood in his fire and veins pulse as he advanced on the insult.
A fist met him in his breastplate.
Brienne stepped forward and hollered, "Jon!"
All about them paused.
And she cried again, "Tyrion!"
The Wildlings behind them snarled and drew back on their haunches.
The Nightswatch before them braced their wall and readied for slaughter.
"Wait!"
His brothers voice had never been so welcome; Jaime almost dropped his guard.
"Stay your swords!" Tyrion commanded, hurriedly hobbling into the fray. "They are welcome! They are welcome!"
The Nightswatch, grudgingly, relaxed their stances… looking uneasily about the Wildlings as they snarled and spat and, slowly, fell back a pace…
"Brother!" The Imp declared, throwing his arms about the other in true recognition and joy.
Jaime had never been so glad to see his family; his true kin. He gripped Tyrion to him, "It is good to see you. We have travelled long."
The younger Lannister only gave the smallest flick of his hand and the guards at the castle gate nodded and parted before them; Jaime admired the devotion his baby brother had earned.
They passed, unchecked, into the forecourt of Castle Black.
It was cleansed of previous battle, but not unmarked. The depletion of men and increase of refugees apparent as the black of the Nightswatch was almost as equal to the mottled white and grey furs of the free folk they had taken in after the last battle.
Some seemed to serve amongst them on the wall while the others moved about the forgers and the bakers and the training fighters as though they were one-and-the-same.
"We've been working to fortify the castle with the help of the Wildlings…" Tyrion have a suspicious scan of the castle, "though some of the brothers have struggled with the decision. It is an uneasy time."
Brienne stepped forward, "There will be more Wildlings on their way to claim sanctuary…" she lowered her voice, "Stannis has landed an army North of the Wall."
Tyrion swooped about, bringing them all to an abrupt stop, "Stannis?"
Jaime nodded, "Just when we thought this place couldn't get more welcoming…"
Before Tyrion had time to react, a cry of "Tormund!" rang through the air.
Ygritte and Jon had entered the ground and the Wildling rushed to greet her fellows, a slight limp betraying her battle wound.
Brienne smiled as the Lord Commander approached them, "She looks well."
"Made of stern stuff, these far-north folk… I can't thank you both enough for your help during the last battle," Jon said truly… he was his father's son, after all… "And for your caring over Ygritte; all I can offer is my personal thanks."
"It was a pleasure," Jaime replied in kind, "she looks to be healing nicely."
The weight of his command lifted slightly and Jon smiled as the wildlings continued to greet one another, "Aren't we all."
Brienne's hold on his hand tightened; she was such a romantic.
"These are trying times at the Wall," Jon continued, face darkening. "There is much to consider and much to discuss."
"Mance is dead," Brienne informed them. "Killed by Stannis Baratheon."
Jon took the news like a blow before blinking it off and frowning at Tyrion… "Not here."
The youngest Lannister nodded and suggested, "Let's secure these newcomers and convene the council."
"Agreed," Jon nodded, "would you take your brother and the Lady to wait on the council to convene."
With no other explanation, John turned to leave…
Jaime looked to his brother, who beckoned them to follow back out into the courtyard and across and deeper into the castle.
"What is going on here?" Brienne asked. "Did you not here that the Wildlings will now be in war with Stannis?"
"We heard…" Tyrion confirmed, heading deeper into the keep. "War," Tyrion wondered loudly, "How many wars and kings and battles have there been now? And I used to long for some small action to cheer my day… what I wouldn't give to feel bored and unimportant again." Taking them deeper and higher, Tyrion lit a trough in the wall, casting light down to reveal several dark wooden doors and a room at the far end. "From what you say, Stannis descends from the North… Wildlings and Others are hard on their heels, the Boltons have taken Winterfell and across the sea there are now dragons…" his brother reached the oak door of the Lord Commanders dining hall, "the world has gone to the seven hells!"
"Exciting times," Jaime smiled to his brother.
Tyrion snorted, "This castle was built for such excitement… easily forgotten in the night as I was forgotten when Father exiled me here. The oddity about inconvenient things is that there are times we cannot be ignored… and the watch and this castle appear to be rather pivotal of late."
They reached the door at the far end of the corridor, "And you, Lord and Lady Lannister are not the only dignitaries to grace the cold north…"
Tyrion opened the door to the Lord Commanders dining hall and announced, "Prince Oberyn, you may remember my brother, Jaime Lannister…"
Jaime shot Tyrion a questioning look as he and Brienne entered the cold, dark room.
The Dornish Prince had not changed since Jaime had last seen him, presiding over the fate of his younger brother…
Oberyn turned to face them, swirling an overly large glass of spirits in his hand and swaggering in much the same way Jaime imagined he used to I his youth; the Dornish paramour, Ellaria, was lighting thin candles about the fire place.
"Prince Oberyn and his guest are visiting The Wall on behalf of the Small Council," Tyrion explained.
"Then some of Aemons letters have been noted," Jaime queried, still curious as to why they were gracing Castle Black with their presence.
"I thought his concerns were subjects for my attention," Oberyn said, coolly, placing his glass down and hefting a dagger in his hand before producing and spearing a crimson apple and slicing a piece to devour.
It was a confidence Jaime appreciated… and saw through, thanks to his years of being much the same. Oberyn was very conscious of his appearance. He was a dashing prince; a romancer and seducer… yet here he was with the same woman who had mothered his children…
So, in his way, he was a man of honour.
"Now… this one, I know…" Oberyn smiled, bringing Jaime back into the conversation, waving the hilt of his knife at Jaime… "But… my Lady," the Dornish Prince gave a low bow… "I do not believe I have had the pleasure."
Startled at the sudden attention, Brienne flushed a little as Oberyn took her hand and placed a kiss there.
The heckles on Jaime's neck rose… "This is Brienne Lannister," he gave added weight to the name, "Lady of Casterly Rock and heir to Tarth."
"My Gods," Ellaria gasped, moving closer to them, "What exquisite eyes you have…"
The room was still.
Brienne opened her mouth to speak, but so shocked was she that all emerged was a squeak…
Jaime nearly stepped between them all to protect her, but held-fast, simply saying, "I have often told her so..."
"Heir to Tarth, you say…" Oberyn asked, having never taken his gaze from her.
"My father has no other living children," Brienne explained, still a little dazed, "he has a special dispensation to bequeath me his lands upon his death."
Oberyn nodded, "So there can be exceptions."
"Pardon?" Brienne asked, awkwardly removing her hand from Oberyns…
"It does not matter," Oberyn smiled, straightening up. "And you are a swords woman?"
"You look strong," Ellaria commented, draping herself from Oberyns shoulder, "Both of you."
"We are," Brienne confirmed, misreading the comment as the other woman's smouldering eyes assessed them.
"So you do…" the paramour held the word, shifting her stance to tilt her pelvis in Briennes direction, "everything together?"
"Ellaria…" Oberyn warned in a low-tone.
His paramour looked to him, pouting, "Just put that aside this once… it could make for an interesting night…"
Jaime shook his head; they hadn't changed.
"If I may," Tyrion, mercifully, stepped in, "Jon is convening the elders as we speak, for now may I suggest we take supper and reacquaint ourselves…"
"That's all I was suggesting," Ellaria smiled.
"Over a drink," Tyrion confirmed with some irritation.
"I may go and visit Ygritte and Gilly," Brienne suggested, looking a little perplexed.
"A superb idea!" Ellaria exclaimed, slinking toward Brienne and linking her arm… "Let's leave the boys to their cock displays… I would much rather spend that time with you…"
Sapphire eyes, effervescent with confusion, met Jaime as he nodded smoothly and hoped to soothe her alarm…
The women departed.
All light left with them.
Oberyn was at his side, snarling, in a moment; "I do not like Lannisters… and I will dance on your grave should you die." He wasn't lying. "I am here for many reasons, Casterly Rock… You would do well to be anywhere in this castle where I am… but for official meetings."
Shame filled him and Jaime conceded, "Agreed."
Oberyn gave a derisive snort and left the room.
"That went well," Tyrion observed.
Swallowing any guilt he felt, Jaime sucked in the sharp air of the North. "Could have warned me."
His brother smiled, "Where's the fun in that?"
He laughed. And Jaime had to admit… he'd missed his baby brother!
()()()
The door opened with an unnecessarily long and spooky creek…
"Brienne?" Jamie asked.
"Yes… sorry."
The candlelight fluttered shadows about the room, but he could see her clearly enough… Brienne stumbled a little… had the others persuaded her to some Dawnish wine?
Brienne fumbled out of her clothes like a fawn about its first steps; staggering and lurching as armour and cotton dropped in equal measure…
Jaime moved in the cramped bed, sure to make space for her and loose the covers to share the warmth he had created since leaving Tyrion in the dining hall.
Brienne threw another skin over their bed and hurried to remove the last of her clothes before climbing onto the small frame with Jaime, hurrying to press her chilled skin into his for warmth.
He didn't mind; even smiled as she shivered and adjusted to the bed by sinking the weight of her body next to his, pulling him to her and wriggling in a very pleasing way…
"Comfortable?" He asked as Brienne buried her head into his neck; those lips feathering against his heated skin.
"Shut-up," she snapped, half-heartedly.
Jaime moved to wind her arm about his chest and move a leg of his to wind about hers.
He loved moulding about her in the cold; made him feel closer to her.
Gods – he was as bad as a child with a crush.
"Are you going to tell me what all that was about with Oberyn?" Brienne asked.
Jaimes smile faltered… "The part where he clearly hates my family or the part where he was openly making a pass at my wife?"
"About your family," Brienne answered before pushing herself up in the bed to ask, "When was he making a pass at me?"
The look of horror on her face was priceless as Jaime realised she hadn't noticed either of the Danish guests intentions…
And he was astounded at her purity…
"Brienne…" he sighed; she was so innocent. "Didn't you catch that Ellaria was asking if we wanted bedfellows this night."
Still in shock, Brienne looked about the cramped space, "But we wouldn't all fit!"
Laughter snorted through his nose… "No… I suppose we wouldn't." And he drew his wife into his arms again, folding her to him so he could stroke her brow... "He hates the Lannisters as he blames us for the death of his beloved sister."
"Oh…" he felt her squeeze him a little closer, "Elia and the children…"
"You heard…" Jaime felt his insides clench… "He has every right to hate us."
"Hate your father," Brienne corrected.
He was so thankful for her, "You are too kind."
Brienne gifted hi with an abrupt shake, "Not you."
"Not all debts are so easily shaken, wench."
"It is not your debt."
He placed a kiss atop her brow, "As you wish."
Jaime knew he wasn't going to win this fight and, perhaps, she was right.
It didn't take long for his wife to fall into a deep, restful sleep.
But Jaime…
He heard the howling of the winter wind as clearly as he imagined Elia Martel's cries as she watched her children killed and fell before the Mountain.
Jaime hadn't been there.
But he felt responsible all the same.
Which was why he found himself draped in skins and on his knees as Oberyn Martel opened his chamber door.
The Dawnish man hardly hid the shock he felt as Jamie reached out and placed a sword in his hand and stated, "My family wronged you. I was not there when the order was given, nor was I present when Clegane, our bannerman, savaged and defiled your sister after dashing her children to the stone." It was true and right he should say this and take responsibility… in that weight came freedom; in the confession came as close as he would ever be to absolution. "I offer myself for the crime. My life is yours. I was not there. I am sorry. Do with me what you will."
Oberyn looked to him; dumbfounded and uncertain.
The snow whistled past outside… and tears fell from Jaimes eyes… "For all the sins I let happen in my life… for all the wrongs my family has done… take your vengeance Martel."
The handsome face of Prince Oberyn melted from dismay to growing anger until the sword in his hand rose above his head…
Jaime closed his eyes and welcomed his judgement.