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Chapter Sixty-Two: North, North, North

Tyrion

They sent Jaime to collect him for his trial. He had to respect his father's decision. It was both cruel and intelligent, two things his father had always done best. Cruel because of anyone in King's Landing, being escorted to his trial by his older brother would hurt Tyrion the most. Intelligent because it appeared to pit the brothers against each other. Even though Jaime knew that Tyrion had not killed Joffrey, to the court it put the brothers on separate sides: the King's Guard and the man who killed the king.

It had been embarrassing to stand there while Jaime chained his hands and feet together as if he really was the criminal they accused him of being. But Tyrion was sure that it was not the most embarrassing thing that would happen to him during his sham of a trial. His father and his sister would use every chance they got to embarrass him. He couldn't speak for his father, but he knew that Cersei would enjoy every bit of it.

"It's fitting," he mused as he followed his brother through the corridors toward the throne room. "You escorting me to my trial."

"Why is it fitting?" Jaime asked with a sigh. Tyrion smiled sadly, his brother knew him so well that even now he knew what to expect from Tyrion. Jaime knew that Tyrion was going to attempt to make a joke. It would be a bad one, but Jaime would try to smile, if only to humor his brother.

"Well, you're a Kingslayer and so am I, it would seem," Tyrion told him, shrugging his shoulders. "Though you never had to go to trial for your king."

"If you had seen Ned Stark's eyes when he walked into the throne room you would know that I was given a trial of my own," Jaime murmured, not meeting Tyrion's eyes. "I was given a trial and judged guilty before I could say a word in my defense."

Tyrion sighed, for years he had known that his brother had been hurt by Ned Stark's reaction to him after the sack of King's Landing. For years he had wondered why Jaime had never defended himself. When Ned Stark looked at Jaime all he saw was a knight who had broken his vow and murdered his king. But Aerys was mad, horrible for the kingdom and for the people. All those cowards that whispered Kingslayer behind his back, they really could not blame him for the murder, only the broken vow. And who hadn't broken a vow during their lifetime? He would wager that even Ned Stark had broken a vow or two, Jon Snow was evidence of that at least.

He understood his brother's bitterness. And on any other day he might have sympathized. But not today. Today he was going to be put on trial for a murder he had not committed. Jaime would not get sympathy from him now.

"Oh poor Jaime Lannister," he cooed at his brother, turning to glare playfully at him. "Woo is me, some northern lord with a stick up his ass didn't like me. My life is ruined." He smirked when Jaime's lips turned up a bit at the corners, at was a pathetic smile, but a smile none the less. "Forgive me, brother, but I think that my trial is a bit more high stakes than your pretend trial in Ned Stark's eyes."

Jaime sighed, "They're not calling you Kingslayer," he assured Tyrion.

"Not yet," Tyrion countered. "But I'm sure it will occur to them, most likely when we walk in together. Yet another reason why Father probably chose you to escort me to my trial." He was quiet for a moment, thinking. "These bastards," he told Jaime, shaking his head. "They all act as if Joffrey's murder was a horrible crime. I know he was your son, and I'm sorry for it, but that boy was a monster and he would have destroyed the entire Seven Kingdoms. Whoever killed him was doing the world a favor."

"Do yourself a favor and don't bring up those thoughts during your trial," Jaime warned him, his voice quiet and pleading.

"Do you think that I'm a fool?" Tyrion fired at him.

"I think you're hot-headed," Jaime corrected him. "I think that Cersei and others will try to upset you and rile you up and you will let your emotions get the better of you. I know you will because that is who you are, but I am asking you, begging you really, to hold your tongue."

"You want me to play nice?" Tyrion asked him, raising his eyebrows.

"I want you to survive."

He chuckled and shook his head, "You're fooling yourself if you think they will name me innocent at the end of this trial, Jaime."

Jaime nodded, "I know you won't," he told Tyrion. Tyrion smiled, his brother had never lied to him, in his entire life, and he was pleased to know that he wouldn't lie now. "But there's a difference between guilty and taking the Black and guilty and dead."

"You think they'll allow me to take the Black?" Tyrion chuckled and shook his head. "Never. I'm not on trial for killing a man, I'm on trial for killing a King. And the Night's Watch would never want me, what would they do with a dwarf on the Wall?"

"Send you to Moletown?" Jaime joked.

"I wish," Tyrion chuckled back.

Jaime smiled for a moment, but the smile quickly fell from his face. "Just hold your tongue," he begged again. "Hold your tongue, keep quiet, don't yell or lash out. Only speak when absolutely necessary and when you do, be polite."

Tyrion chuckled and shook his head, "I'll be on my best behavior, brother," he promised. "If that's what you want. But it won't change a thing. This is not a fair trial and I will not get a fair judgement. You know it. I know it. There's no use fooling ourselves."

Jaime's silence was enough to tell him that his brother did know, just as well as Tyrion did.

...

He had been right, someone had called him Kingslayer the moment he walked into the throne room. But unlike when they called Jaime Kingslayer they did not whisper it. They were not afraid of him, so when they called him the horrible name they shouted it. Tyrion was not hurt, he had expected as much, but his chest tightened when he saw his brother flinch at the word. He wondered if Jaime was flinching because he thought the name was meant for himself, or because he knew it was meant for Tyrion.

He wondered if he would ever get the chance to ask his brother. He might never get a chance to be alone with his brother again. They might decide to take his head as soon as he was pronounced guilty. He supposed her should be grateful that Joffrey was dead. If Joffrey had been running this trial his head would have been cut off in the throne room itself.

Joffrey would not have provided the stepping stool either. Tyrion was grateful to Tommen for that. It would be nice to be able to see over the pulpit he was chained to. He wanted to look all of his sister's liars in the eyes when they lied about him. If he had to die for Joffrey's murder he wanted them to be afraid he would haunt them for the rest of their lives for the lies they told.

Once he was chained inside his box Jaime moved to stand in his spot, just to the right and forward of the Iron Throne, placing himself between Tommen and Tyrion. It was unnecessary, Tyrion had not killed Joffrey and he would never think of killing Tommen, besides he was chained up, but Tywin Lannister loved nothing more than proper appearance, and this was what would be expected of the Lord Commander of the King's Guard, even if the one who stood accused was his own brother.

When he stood, Tommen's fists were clenched. And when he spoke his voice shook. "I, Tommen of the House Baratheon, first of my name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, do hereby recuse myself from this trial. Tywin, of House Lannister, Hand of the King, and Protector of the Realm will sit as judge in my stead. With him Prince Oberyn from House Martell and Lord Mace of House Tyrell."

It was such a large speech for such a young boy. He could barely make his way through all of his new names and titles. Tyrion wondered if the poor boy had stayed up half the night before, practicing so that he would not stumble over his words. His chest tightened again at the thought.

Most of his speech had been given while he looked over Tyrion's shoulder, staring at the people behind his uncle. But now he brought his gaze to Tyrion's face and took a deep shuddering breath, "If found guilty, may the Gods punish the accused."

It hurt, Tyrion was man enough to admit it, but he opened his eyes and watched as Tommen left the dais. He was in the process of accepting his fate, but he would not have Tommen blaming himself for whatever happened during his trial. I don't blame you, boy, he thought as he watched the young king walk stiffly past Jaime. I never could. None of this is your fault.

Once Tommen had walked past Jaime his older brother lifted his gaze toward Tyrion and nodded, a silent reminder that he expected his brother to behave throughout the trial.

Things were not going to get better from this point on.

They could only get worse.

"Tyrion, of House Lannister," his father called down from the Iron Throne once all three judges had taken their seats. "You stand accused by the queen regent of regicide. Did you kill the king?"

Tyrion shook his head, "No," he told his father, biting back the rest of his sentence, though I wanted to. He meant to keep his promise to his brother and hold his tongue.

"Did your wife, Lady Sansa?"

"Not that I know of," Tyrion answered. She wouldn't have, he thought. She was too afraid.

"How did he die then?" Tywin asked.

Why do you think I know? Tyrion wanted to yell at him. How in the Seven Hells can I know who killed the king? Half the Seven Kingdoms wanted to. "He choked on his pigeon pie," Tyrion answered instead.

"So you would blame the bakers?" Tywin asked, not impressed.

"Or the pigeons." Oberyn smirked in his seat. "But leave me out of it."

Tywin sighed. This entire trial was a mockery, but he did not appreciate having his son make it more of one. Tyrion realized belatedly, that perhaps he would have gotten more sympathy from the judges, his father in particular if he had kept his tongue in check. Just like Jaime asked you to, the voice in the back of his head teased in a sing-song voice.

"The Crown may call its first witness," his father commanded.

The first witness was Ser Meryn Trant. He glared at Tyrion maliciously as he recounted the day they had sent Myrcella to Dorne. He briefly mentioned the attack, went into greater detail about his role in protecting King Joffrey from the mob, and went into even greater detail about Tyrion's reaction when he realized that no one had thought to protect Sansa from the angry and desperate small folk.

"He slapped the king across the face and called him an idiot and a fool," Meryn told the judges.

He was one! Tyrion wanted to shout. Even Father knew it! I believe you called him a fool yourself on several occasions. But that defense would not work for him, not here, not with these judges. They all knew that Joffrey had been a monster and none of them seemed to care.

"It was not the only time the Imp threatened Joffrey," Meryn continued. "Right here, in this very room. He marched up those steps and called our king a halfwit. He compared His Grace to the Mad King and suggested that he would meet the same fate. When I spoke up in the king's defense, he threatened to have me killed."

"Why don't you tell them what you were doing?" Tyrion fired at Trant, only realizing after the words were spoken that they were not in his head, that he had spoken out loud. He could have stopped there, he should have stopped there, but he thought it very unlikely that he would ever get a chance to give a defense to their claims. He might as well force one. "Joffrey was pointing a loaded crossbow at Sansa Stark, who currently still his betrothed, while you tore at her dress and beat her. I thought it an apt comparison and anyone who had known the Mad King would have thought the same!"

"Silence!" Tywin roared over Tyrion's shouted defense. "You will not speak unless called upon." He turned toward the white cloak. "You are dismissed, Ser Meryn."

The next witness was Grand Maester Pycelle, who would have had the court believe that Tyrion had arrested him and thrown him in a black cell so that he could pillage all of the poisons in the maester's stores.

Tyrion wanted to ask him why he would need to steal all those poisons to kill Joffrey. Did the maester really think him so stupid? Wouldn't one have been smarter? Wouldn't one have potentially gone unnoticed.

He also wanted to ask why the maester had all of those poisons so readily available. Who are you trying to kill?

Pycelle did have one surprise up his sleeve, quite literally, he pulled out a necklace, Tyrion vaguely recognized it as one he had seen Sansa wear the day of Joffrey's wedding. The maester told the judges that it had been found on the body of Joffrey's fool, Ser Dontos, who had been spotted dragging Sansa away from the feast. He claimed that there was a residue of poison on the necklace, the Strangler.

As luck would have it, that was one of the poisons that Tyrion was supposed to have stolen from the maester's stores.

Tyrion glanced up at Jaime to find his brother watching him with furrowed brows. His heart fell when he realized that this might have swayed his brother's opinion. It was Sansa's necklace after all, he shook his head, as subtly as possible, he was still just as sure that Sansa had not knowingly killed the king as he was that it had not been himself.

"It's a poison that few in the Seven Kingdoms possess, used to strike down the most noble child the Gods ever put on this good earth!" Pycelle stated, turning to glare at Tyrion.

If you truly believe that than you are more of a fool than I thought you were, Tyrion thought, glaring at the old man. Joffrey was anything but noble. And the Seven Kingdoms are safer with him gone.

The third witness was Varys. If he had not been called on behalf of the crown Tyrion might have held out hope that this man could have done something to help him. But the Spider was there to speak for his sister. Even then Tyrion held out hope that Varys might say that he had never witnessed any treasonous behavior on Tyrion's part. Varys was one of Tyrion's only friends in King's Landing after all. They kept each other's secrets.

All of his hope died though when Varys took the witness stand and was asked if he had ever witnessed Tyrion threatening the king. Varys had answered that he had, a few weeks before Joffrey's death, when the Small Council received word of the Red Wedding.

"And do you remember the exact nature of this threat?" Lord Mace Tyrell had asked, eager to get a word in during the proceedings. So far Tywin had run the show, Lord Mace was eager to prove himself useful to Cersei.

"I'm afraid I do, my lord," Varys told him, his voice as soft as ever, Tyrion hated it. Tyrion hated him. "He said, 'Perhaps you should speak more softly to me then, monsters are dangerous and just now kings seem to be dropping like flies.'"

That's out of context! Tyrion wanted to yell. All of this testimony has been out of context!

"And he said this to the king during a Small Council meeting?" Lord Mace asked, his brows furrowed. He was trying his best to seem thoughtful and serious. Did you really want your daughter married to that monster? Tyrion screamed at the man in his head. If I had killed Joffrey you should have been the first person in line to thank me!

"Yes, my lord," Varys told the judges. "It was just after we had received word of Robb Stark's death. Lord Tyrion did not seem pleased by the news. Perhaps all the time he had spent with his wife, Lady Sansa, had softened his heart and his mind to the Northern cause."

That assumption shocked and angered the court more than the suggestion that Tyrion had murdered Joffrey. Since when had being sympathetic to the North been more treasonous than killing a king?

The crown was not finished yet, it had one more witness and it had saved the best for last.

Cersei Lannister

-.-.-.-.-

Jaime

He had never felt more betrayed than he did the moment Cersei took the witness stand. It was stupid. He was not the one on trial. If anyone should have felt betrayed it should have been Tyrion, turned on by his own family. But when Cersei took her place facing the three judges Jaime felt betrayed. This trial was her fault, most of the High Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms had been there for Joffrey's wedding. They had all seen his death. They had all watched him pointing toward Tyrion with his last breath. But none of them had accused Tyrion of murdering his nephew.

Only Cersei.

She had blamed Tyrion. She had accused Tyrion. She had refused to listen to reason and to look at any other suspects. He wondered how long she had been waiting for this moment, for this chance to put him on trial and find him guilty. Since the day he was born, he realized. For a moment he hated his sister for putting him in this position. They were not as close as they had once been, after what she had done to Lenora all those years ago it was impossible for them to be, but she was still his twin, the other half of him. And now she was placing him between her and the little brother that he had always done his best to protect.

It was cruel. Because he knew, even now, that there was no way that he could protect his younger brother. Not from her. Not from their father. Not from the judgement they all knew he would get.

They had named him guilty before he had even sat a trial. And now they were all playacting, all pretending that this wasn't all for show. Their father was just like Cersei, he had been waiting for years for an excuse to rid himself of Tyrion. Oberyn Martell hated Lannisters, why would he vote to save Tyrion's life when he would no doubt enjoy watching him lose his head. And Mace Tyrell would vote how Tywin wanted him to. He was about as useless on the judging council as a great pair of breasts on a man.

"I will hurt you for this," Cersei was telling the judges, recounting a conversation she had had with Tyrion before the Battle of the Blackwater. That had been almost a year ago, Jaime wondered why none of the judges bothered to ask why Cersei had it memorized. How long have you been planning this? He wondered, staring at his sister in horror. "There will come a day when you think you are safe and happy and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth and you will know that the debt has been paid."

Jaime had to hand it to her. She was a convincing enough witness. Her words sounded like something Tyrion might say. And the tears in her eyes looked real enough. Her jaw quivered as she spoke and she looked so lovely and heartbroken in her black silk gown that even Jaime wanted to believe her. But then he remembered those same tears in her eyes whenever she recounted the time Lenora had been poisoned, always conveniently leaving out that she had been the one to poison the babe, and he realized that he could not believe her now.

He knew that Cersei loved her children, all four of them. He knew that she was heartbroken over what had happened to Joffrey, that a part of her was broken and that she may never heal from it. But he also knew that no one knew better than Cersei how to turn an unfortunate situation to her advantage. Someone had killed Joffrey, and perhaps for one heartbroken moment Cersei had truly believed that Tyrion had done it. But he knew his sister, sometimes better than himself, and he knew that she did not believe it now.

Her son was dead, there was nothing she could do about that. But she could use his death to rid herself of her biggest threat in King's Landing. As he watched her he wondered how he had ever thought that she was beautiful. She was cruel, she was conniving, she was vengeful. But he could no longer see her beauty. If he lost his brother for her actions he would never forgive her for it.

He wondered if losing both her eldest son and her twin brother would seem an even trade for Tyrion's head. Deep down inside, he knew it would.

Mace Tyrell leaned forward in his seat, his face etched with concern, "Your own brother told you that?" he asked, as if he could not quite believe it.

If you knew the way she treated him you would understand, Jaime wanted to defend his brother. But it was not his place and an outburst from him would do nothing to save his brother from these judges.

"Yes," Cersei told him, allowing a tear to slide down one of her cheeks. "Shortly before the Battle of Blackwater Bay. "I had confronted him for his plans for Joffrey on the front lines. As Queen Regent I understood that having the king on the front lines was necessary to the moral of our soldiers, but as a mother I needed to ensure that my son would be safe. Even then, I had my suspicions that Tyrion wanted Joffrey dead, and a death on a battlefield would be looked at much less closely than poison at a wedding. I only wanted to make sure that my suspicions were nothing more than a woman's worry and that Tyrion would take every necessary precaution to keep the king safe and alive." She shook her head, smiling ruefully as she wiped at the tear sliding down her cheek. "As it turned out when the attack came, Joff insisted that he remain on the battlements. He thought that his presence would inspire the troops, even when it appeared that the battle had been lost."

Jaime wanted to yell at her for her lie, he wanted to yell at all the lords and ladies who sat quietly, knowingly listening to it. He had not been in King's Landing for more than a day before he had heard the whispered accounts of Joffrey's part in the Battle of the Blackwater. He had stood behind Tyrion when his brother used wildfire on the bay. He had stood behind men when they launched rocks from the scorpions at the attacking army. And he had run like a child when the battle turned and it seemed as though King's Landing would be sacked. It had been Tyrion who inspired the troops, not Joffrey, and everyone in this room knew it, though none would speak up for him.

Oberyn Martell shifted in his seat, his brow was furrowed as if something about Cersei's story did not make sense to him. Jaime leaned back, toward the man, physically willing him to question Cersei's account, to call her on her lies.

"Your brother said, and you will know the debt is paid. What debt?"

Cersei took a shuddering breath, she had not expected that question. She had hoped that the men would see her tears and her motherly compassion and look no further. But Oberyn saw more, and he questioned it. Jaime watched as his sister's eyes narrowed, quickly thinking of an answer for the man's question. "I had discovered that he was keeping whores in the Tower of the Hand," she told the judges and the court. "I asked him to confine his salacious acts to the brothel where such disgusting behavior belongs. He was not pleased."

Jaime raised his eyebrows, wondering if anyone would buy that answer. In order to do so they would have to believe that Tyrion was so egotistical that even the mere act of Cersei asking him to take his whores to a brothel would make him wish to murder her son. Even if Jaime had not known his siblings he would not have believed that, not even for a moment.

He took a quick glance over his shoulder to see what the judges thought. Oberyn looked skeptical, as if he did not believe what he had heard. Tywin was pensive, as if trying to understand how to use this to his advantage. The oaf, Mace Tyrell, was smiling kindly at Cersei, "Thank you, Your Grace," his smiled widened, "for the courage of your testimony."

Jaime snorted, there was nothing courageous about lying.

Tywin waited until Cersei had left the stand and taken her seat before he spoke. "We will adjourn for now. Toll the bells in an hour's time." The lords and ladies of the court began to clear, the judges would leave to drink wine and eat. Tyrion would remain, locked to the stand, waiting for them to return. All Jaime needed to do was glance at his sister and see the hatred and anger in her green eyes to know that it would not be good for Tyrion when they did. He barely looked at her or his brother when he left the throne room, following his father.

It had occurred to him, watching his father on the Iron Throne that there might be some way for him to save his brother's life, even if he couldn't save him from the guilty verdict. His father controlled Mace Tyrell, if he told the oaf to have mercy in the punishment they would. There was nothing Tywin Lannister wanted more than to have Jaime step away from the King's Guard and become his heir again. He would even be merciful to Tyrion for that.

So, with that in mind, Jaime followed Tywin to the Tower of the Hand. He had broken many vows before, it would not take much to break them again.

Tywin did not look surprised to see him when he walked into the solar. "You would condemn your own son to death," Jaime accused him, there was no point in stalling, he only had an hour to change his father's mind.

"I condemn no one," Tywin interrupted. "The trial is not over."

Jaime laughed, hard and humorless. "This is not a trial, Father," he told his father, shaking his head. "This is an act. You've known he would be found guilty from the moment you decided to have a trial. That's why your pet judge Mace Tyrell sits up there with you. To ask the questions you want him to, to vote the way you want him to, to think the way you tell him to."

Tywin glanced up at him from the meal he was eating, "Do you think I would have risked a trial if I were not sure of the outcome?" he asked Jaime, as if surprised by his own son's condemnation. "Have you taught you nothing all these years?"

"Clearly not as much as you've taught Cersei," Jaime fired back. "She knows better than anyone how to take advantage of every situation." He shook his head. "She is manipulating everything and everyone, she's paid and threatened the witnesses, her tears are fake, her answers lies. And you know it."

"I know nothing of the sort," his father countered.

"Then you're a liar too," Jaime yelled at him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. His father would not make a deal with him if he was yelling and causing a scene. "You've always hated Tyrion," he accused his father.

"He killed his King," Tywin defended himself.

"As did I," Jaime reminded him, so angry that he did not even flinch at the memory. Tywin would not even look at him. "Do you know the last order the Mad King gave me?" he asked. His father did not know, Jaime had never felt the need to defend his actions to his father, or anyone else outside of Lenora and Brienne. "He ordered me to bring him your head. I saved your life so that you could murder my brother?" He felt ashamed of his father, but more than that he felt ashamed of himself. He had always known that this was the kind of man his father was. And at this very moment he could not understand why he had tried to save Tywin's life.

"It won't be murder it will be justice," Tywin told him around a bite of food.

"Justice?" Jamie echoed, slamming his golden hand on the table between them. "How is this justice?"

"I am performing my duty as Hand of the King, if Tyrion is found guilty he will be punished accordingly."

"He'll be executed," Jaime whispered, some of his fight gone.

"He'll be punished accordingly," Tywin repeated.

Jaime sighed, "Once you said that family is what lives on. All that lives on. You told me about a dynasty that would last a thousand years." He stepped closer to his father now, playing his hand. Cersei was not the only one who had learned how to use a person's words against them. "What happens to your dynasty when Tyrion dies? I'm a King's Guard, forbidden by oath to carry on the family line."

"I'm aware of your oath," Tywin growled. He always growled when he spoke about Jaime's vows to join the King's Guard. He had never been able to look at Jaime in his white plate and white cloak without glaring as if Jaime had stolen something from him when he put them on.

And perhaps he had.

"What happens to your name? Who carries the lion banner into future battles? Lancel Lannister? Other cousins I can't even remember the names of?"

"What happens to my dynasty if I spare the life of my grandson's killer?" Tywin asked, putting down his knife and fork to study Jaime.

"It survives," Jaime told him without a moment's pause, without a flinch or a thought. "Through me."

Jaime had not paused, but Tywin did. He cocked his head to the side and stared at Jaime as if seeing him for the first time in years. "You would leave the King's Guard?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Jaime nodded, "I will leave the King's Guard," he confirmed. "I will take my place at your side as your son and heir. If you let Tyrion live."

"Done."

There was no hesitation now, no pause on his father's part. Jaime's eyes widened as he took a step away from the table. Since he had come to the realization in the throne room that he could save Tyrion's life he had thought that he was taking advantage of the situation, that it was he who would bribe his father into doing something that he did not want to do. But he saw it now. It had always been Tywin.

Jaime had not been in control of anything from the moment he had stepped foot into his father's solar. Tywin Lannister, who always taught by example, had been playing him by allowing Jaime to think that he was playing his father. This had always been Tywin's plan. He was never going to behead Tyrion, but he had waited to admit it until Jaime had agreed to give him what he wanted most.

Cersei did not care to find Joffrey's true murderer, she wanted to be rid of Tyrion.

And Tywin did not care to find justice for Joffrey, he wanted Jaime to consent to leaving the King's Guard and becoming his heir again.

And he had gotten exactly what he wanted, as he always did.

"When the testimony is concluded and the guilty verdict rendered, Tyrion will be given the chance to speak. He'll plead for mercy and I will allow him to join the Night's Watch. In three days time he will depart King's Landing and head north to live out the rest of his days on the Wall. You'll take off your white cloak immediately. You will leave King's Landing and take up your rightful place at Casterly Rock. You will marry a suitable woman and father children named Lannister. And you will never turn your back on your family again."

Jaime nodded, he hated that he had played straight into his father's plan. But there was no going back now. When Tyrion had been born and Jaime realized that both his father and sister hated the babe he had vowed to protect his brother. He would do this now, his final act of protecting him. "You have my word."

"And you have mine," Tywin told him.

For what it's worth, Jaime thought as he quickly turned and left the room. He would not stand there and stare at his father's smug face any longer than he had to.

He hurried back down to the throne room, he wanted to tell Tyrion that he would be safe. That all he needed to do was wait for them to proclaim him guilty and ask for mercy. The lords and ladies were beginning to take their seats when he approached Tyrion. "Not going well is it?" Tyrion asked him sarcastically.

"You're going to be found guilty," Jaime warned him.

Tyrion scoffed, "You think so?"

"When you are you need to enter a formal plea for mercy and ask to be sent to the Wall. Father will agree to it, he's given me his word. He will spare your life and allow you to join the Night's Watch."

"Ned Stark was promised the same thing," Tyrion told him.

"And Father is not Joffrey," Jaime argued. "He will agree to it. He has to."

Tyrion studied him for a moment, his brows furrowed. "You made a deal with him?" he asked, always too smart for his own good.

"Do you trust me?" Jaime asked him. Tyrion nodded, he didn't even have to think about the answer. Jaime nodded in return, "Keep your mouth shut, no more outbursts. This will all be over soon." He turned to return to his place on the dais before the judges returned, but Tyrion reached out to catch ahold of his wrist. He stopped and turned back toward his brother, his eyebrows raised.

"What did this deal cost you?" he asked, his voice soft.

Jaime shrugged his shoulders, "Nothing important," he assured his brother, "just a white cloak."

-.-.-.-.-

Robb

He had found her. It had taken him many nights, but he had finally found her. He had caught her scent again on the other side of the great water and followed her scent, running along a river, through the trees, past the walls he once lived behind.

And finally he had stopped in front of new walls, shorter walls. Her scent went no further. He did not know where they were, he did not know what was happening to her behind those walls. But he knew that she was there.

He knew that he had found her.

He could smell her emotions. She was sad, it reminded him of the small of the wood he used to live in, when it was wet with rain. She was angry, it smelled like fire and ash like the night a stranger had attacked the broken man cub. But more than anything, above it all, underneath it all, all around it all, she was afraid. It smelled like blood.

He had circled the walls three times when he first arrived, and every night since. But he could not find a way in, he could find no weak spot. Without one he was trapped outside the walls. And she was trapped within.

He howled for her every night. She might not be able to leave, she might not be able to find him, but he hoped that she would understand. Whatever was happening to her, she was not alone.

...

"Lenora was the daughter of the king," he told the men the next morning. They looked up at him, Tom Sevenstrings seemed to be biting back a smile, but he could tell that they were trying not to make a large deal of his statement. He remembered that night they thought he was sleeping when Thoros had said that he remembered better when he was calm. They were trying to keep him calm.

He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and picturing her face. At first he could not see anything, save grey steel. A sword. But then he heard a soft, musical laugh and the steel lightened into liquid silver. It was her eyes. He could remember marveling at how her eyes seemed to change colors with her mood. Dark when she was angry, polished steel when she was determined, silver when she was happy.

He could picture the rest of her face, her smooth skin, darkened by the sun from her years in the South and their march from Winterfell. Her lips, soft and full, turned up at the corners in a teasing smile, a dimple in her right cheek. Her high cheekbones that her mother's family was so well known for. He could remember running his hands through her dark brown curls, watching as the silky strands slipping through his fingers.

He could remember her smell, an interesting mix of winter woods and southern flowers. He could remember the way she felt in his arms. Her voice, her laugh, her hands. He could remember a thousand conversations and five times as many moments the two of them had shared. He could remember their fights and their reconciliations. He could remember her teasing him and the countless times he had purposefully made her angry. He remembered the joy he felt the first time she willingly and happily let him have her. The sparkle in her eyes when she had told him that she was carrying his child and the way she had broken in front of him when she lost that child.

He could remember them.

He could remember her.

He could remember all of it.

He opened his eyes, wishing to close them the moment her face disappeared from his view. "Lenora was the daughter of King Robert and Cersei Lannister. She looked like a Baratheon, except for her cheek bones. But she carried herself like a Lannister, all grace and beauty concealing the steel in her bones. She fought with a sword like the Kingslayer and with words like the Imp. And she would kill me if she heard me call either of them that."

Anguy chuckled, "I've never met the lady," the archer told him. "But from what your sister, the little lady told us, that sounds about right." The man paused, watching him closely, "You remember her then?"

He smiled and nodded, "I remember her," he told them. "I remember bringing her to the Twins with me. I remember that we only shared one dance that night. And that, the moment when it all went to hell and her mother's song started to play she was nowhere near me. We were being attacked by my own men and I was not there to protect her." He shook his head, "She kept trying to reach me, as if she could protect me."

"Did she need your protection?" Lem asked him, his voice hesitant, as if he were afraid of upsetting him.

He nodded, "I thought she did," he told them.

"But it was her family that arranged it all," Thoros told him. "Her grandfather who persuaded the Freys and the Boltons to kill you and your men. Her mother who guaranteed their safety and reward when they did."

"And you think she had something to do with it?" he asked them, raising his eyebrows. He could see it, in his mind, her face when they started the attack. He could see the way she fought against the Smalljon to get to him, to throw herself in front of him. He could hear her screams, they way she called out to him, begging him to stand from where he lay on the ground, pleading with him to leave the castle and survive. He shook his head, "If you had been there, if you had seen her, you would know how ridiculous that question is. She may have been born to a Lannister queen, but she was no Lannister. She was a Baratheon."

"And a Stark?" Tom Sevenstrings asked him.

He nodded, "Aye, she was a Stark. And she's still alive. I know it."

...

Three days later he realized that the Brotherhood was bringing him south. They had changed directions without him noticing. "Where are we going?" he asked Anguy one day.

"South," the man answered.

He rolled his eyes, "I thought you weren't going to bring me to the Lannisters."

"We're not," Anguy assured him. "You said so yourself. She's not a Lannister. She's a Baratheon and a Stark. We're bringing you to her." The archer looked at his face, studying his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. "I thought that you would be happier about it, Lord Stark."

"I am," he told the man after a long moment. "But we're going the wrong way."

"And which way should we be going, my lord?"

The men had taken to using his many names more often, Thoros thought that it would help him belong to them faster. He shook his head, it wasn't working. "I don't know," he told the man, his mind going to his strange dreams. He wanted to tell them that they should travel north, that she was there. But he didn't really know that and why would they believe him. "But south is not right."

"We have four directions to pick from," Lem interjected. "South seemed as good as any. Her grandfather wouldn't have had you and your men murdered only to leave her wandering around the North all by herself. He would have had her sent south, back to her family. So we'll go south, we'll find a way to reach out to her and we'll get the two of you back together."

"She's not with her family," he told them. "She's not south. We need to go a different direction."

She's north! He wanted to yell at them. He wanted to yell it over and over again until they listened to him.

North. North. North.

Author's Note:

Hello dears! It's Friday and I'm back with another update!
Thank you guys so much for stopping by and reading. And as always thank you for your wonderful reviews and support. You guys really are amazing and I am so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter.
I've got my fingers crossed that you enjoyed this one just as much!
Let's give it up to the wonderful souls who reviewed the last chapter. This update is for you!

RHatch89: Thank you! I'm so glad that you enjoyed it! Hope that you liked the new one!

DannyBlack70: I'm so glad there was that "about to". And I am happy that I caught you by surprise. As much as I love the stone cold Arya that left the Faceless men, I want her here in Westeros. And I have been waiting since she disappeared from King's Landing for her and the Hound to travel north. So I'm so glad that you guys liked it!

DatMatt: Me too! I'm enjoying keeping you guys on your toes. And oh my god! I had an idea for Roose Bolton and it was a good one but your review has caused me to rethink all of it. And now I've changed that part of the story because I did not realize how much I needed one of your suggestions in my life until I read it. (I will admit I fought it for a bit, because I write out an outline of a story all the way to the end before I even start writing it and I try not to allow myself to be swayed by reviews.) Don't worry, when we get to that part, I'll let everyone know they owe you for the bit of wonderfulness that I will give them.
And don't worry, as much as I like playing with the Boltons, there's no way I'm going to let them stick around for long.

Kimberley: I'm glad that you enjoyed the last couple chapters and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter as well! The Hound is one of my favorites and I really like him paired with Arya in a non-romantic way so there's going to be a lot of him in upcoming chapters. Enjoy!

rottingmermaid: THE HOUND AND ARYA ARE GOING NORTH! (Happy dances all around!)

Ishouldprobablybedoinghomework: I'm happy that I surprised you with that one! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope you enjoyed this one as well. There wasn't any Lenora in this one, but you guys are going to get a lot of her in the next two chapters and I hope you don't regret it (insert foreboding music here). I've been keeping Roose in the background for a while now. Because like you said, he's got this sense of unknown that makes him scary. Ramsay is scary because you know what he's going to do, you know who he is. Roose is scary because you don't. So I've been playing that up. And I'm glad you appreciate it!

Guest: Thank you! Thank you for reading and thank you for reviewing! Welcome to the binge reader club, my new friend.

FairyFelicity: I love that you stress the silently. Because I wrote that scene when the Hound and Arya go north months ago. It's just been sitting on my hardrive waiting ever since. And the first time I wrote it he voiced his decision. But every time I came back to it, it didn't feel right. With the exception of the chapter in the Hound's POV he's been very quiet about his care for Lenora. So he wouldn't just be like "I'm gonna go rescue the princess." It would just be a silent, determined change of direction.
So I'm glad you enjoyed it because that has been a plot twist that's been several months in the making.
As for your fear about Lenora and the Boltons. Just a few more chapters and you will have your answer. (No hints here, I'm gonna make you suffer :p)

Lom: Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter and I'm sorry I made you wait two days for this one. Hopefully it was worth the wait!

HPuni101: No one was expecting the Hound! And I love it! I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter. How'd you feel about this one?

Guest1995: Does the Hound intend to rescue Lenora? I think so. Though it's going to be hard. And after everything she's been through she might not trust him. And I like to wrenches into my own plots so no one gets comfortable.
As for Roose and Ramsay, personally I think Roose is worse. And here's why:
Ramsay is horrible, Roose knows it and he subjects Lenora to him anyway.
Ramsay is horrible, everyone knows it. They know what to expect from him. No one really knows what to expect from Roose.
Better to face the enemy you know, than the one you don't.

belllaphant: Hello! I'm so glad that you found my story and liked it enough to binge read it! Welcome to the ever growing club! I'm so glad that I managed to keep you guessing and surprise you and that you love the story. Thank you so much for your review! I hope this chapter did not disappoint!

That's all I've got for now friends, I'll see you on GoT finale day (sunday). I'll be crying my eyes out, I'm sure.
Until then,
Chloe Jane.