Jaime woke early that morning, finding Sansa sound asleep. He wondered when she had returned that night. Peck had come in not long after sleep had finally welcomed him, telling him where his lady wife had gone. Jaime thanked him but did nothing about it; Sansa was old enough to make her own choices. If she wanted to visit her brother, she was allowed to. He was hurt, however, that she felt the need to sneak around behind his back.

He dressed quietly, wishing not to wake her. He slipped out of the room and down the many halls to the Stone Garden where Ser Benedict Broom awaited him. Sansa was the only one not in chains who worshipped the Old Gods so this was the ideal place to avoid someone walking in. A sparring sword was waiting for him, leaning against the weirwood in the center of the godswood.

"You're late." The master-at-arms said lazily. Jaime continued to approach him at a steady pace, his tone not fazing him. He grabbed the sword from the bark of the tree and approached Benedict. The other man always liked to taunt him, tease him that he still had both hands. He tossed his sword between his two hands. Jaime knew that he was joking every time he did it but, it bugged him occasionally.

Jaime had known Benedict almost all of his life. He had trained him when he was a young boy; Benedict was young himself, in his 20s. Now, Ben was in his mid-50s, but still spry for his age. Jaime thought Old Ben was the reason he was such an adept swordsman, he hoped he could make him one again.

Benedict attacked him, their clashing swords filling the air with the song of steel. They took turns attacking, sometimes Benedict would have him on the run, other times, Jaime would nearly have Old Ben pinned. Their practice went on until sunup and they ended it there. Jaime wiped the sweat from his face and thanked Ser Benedict, telling him to meet him that night at sundown. He was vowing to truly commit to his training.

Jaime made for the great hall and found his guest already seated, waiting for him. Roose Bolton watched his approach and idly rolled the scroll that sat in front of him across the table and back again. He plucked it from the table with his thumb and index finger and offered it to Jaime as he past him on his way to his seat. Jaime took it and broke the twin tower and bridge seal as he sat. The servants hurried forward to bring the food they had been waiting until his arrival to put forth on the table.

Roose Bolton's cold eyes were on him as Jaime tried to read the note. Some days, he had more trouble making sense of the letters on the page than others. It normally had to do with stress now that he was older. Today, with Bolton's eyes on him, it took him nearly two minutes to read the note.

You have something that's mine. I want it back. Serve me Wolf and Lion won't be for dinner.

Jaime set the note down and leaned his elbows on the table. He leaned his head in his hands.

"What news?" Bolton asked. Jaime turned his head in his hands and peered at him. His look was still cold but curious as he stared at him.

"Walder Frey wants the Stark boy." Jaime replied, spearing a sausage on the end of his fork.

"And you have reserves?"

Jaime leaned against the back of the chair, trying to act like the man's superior. He didn't feel like it, Roose Bolton was cold and calculating, seeming like much more of a leader at the moment. Jaime had bags under his eyes and was physically and mentally drained from a horrible night of trying to sleep then training this morning. "Walder Frey doesn't make demands of me, I make demands of him."

"And what do you demand of him?" His eyes were on Jaime's, they were a few shades darker than milk and always put Jaime on edge. They were eerie and he hated looking at them.

Jaime didn't hesitate in saying, "I'll demand him to stand down. He'll have no choice."

Roose let out a harsh laugh. "He has every choice. He doesn't answer to you. You're not his lord." He paused. "Why not just give him Robb Stark?"

Jaime shot him a look. "And have my wife hate me for the rest of our days? I think not."

"Walder Frey will not stand down. Robb Stark slighted him. He demands blood."

"Then blood is what he shall have."

Roose Bolton nodded, a dreadful smile on his face. "Shall I send word for my bastard to bring the remainder of my army from the Dreadfort?"

Jaime shook his head. "No, we have plenty.

Bolton nodded again. "He almost came anyway. He didn't want to miss Edmure Tully's wedding." Jaime looked at him peculiarly. Bolton continued, "Ramsay loves a good slaughter."
"Slaughter?" Jaime felt like his blood was beginning to boil.

Roose's voice didn't change in its tone. "Yes. You do know of the plan your father had with the Freys? The one to slaughter the Starks at the feast?"

He had no knowledge of such plan. "You were involved in the planning of this?"

"Of course, my lord." He was practically beaming — it made Jaime sick.

"Ser Tybolt!" Jaime shouted, half rising from his seat. The eldest Crakehall was at his side immediately, a surprising feat for such a large man.

"Yes, Lord Jaime?"

"Take Roose Bolton to the dungeons. The blacker the better." Jaime said, his green eyes on Roose's light gray ones the entire time he spoke. Tybolt Crakehall grabbed Roose Bolton by the arms and, with the help of his youngest brother, Merlon, he dragged him out of the hall.

Jaime settled back into his seat and idly pushed what was left of his food across his plate. He slid the food away from him across the table and stood up. He walked in the direction the Crakehalls had disappeared with Roose Bolton; he was, in fact, head to the same destination: the dungeons. The keys jangling on his hip, he made quite the racket as he took the stairs two at a time, trying to reach the cell he desired as quickly as possible. He unlocked the door and walked through it.

It was still clean and he was happy to find that the gaoler was treating him fairly. Robb sat against the far wall, staring at Jaime as he walked further into the room. Without preamble, Jaime said, "Fancy going to war?"

A throaty laugh erupted from the King in the North. "I thought we were already at war."

The older man shook his head. "We've been playing at war. But we have a common enemy now."

"And who's that?"

"Walder Frey."

Robb just scoffed, leading Jaime to produce the scroll from his pocket. He offered it to him. Robb took it suspiciously but read it over several times. He handed it back as he said, "Walder Frey and I have a pact. This is easily forged."

"Do I look like I can write as a man nearing 100?"

"No, I imagine you write like you're in swaddling clothes yet." Robb said, looking at Jaime's metal right hand. "One of your men then. Your maester even."

Jaime shook his head. "Walder Frey is dangerous, you know it as well as I. You've slighted him more than once."

The Northernman seemed to be thinking on something, Jaime allowed him his time. He said, "You may be right but, he can't take Casterly Rock."

Jaime said quickly, "He could take Winterfell."

Robb's blue eyes turned dark in an instant. "Winterfell may be a ruin, but it's home. He'll never take Winterfell."

Jaime walked toward Robb and grabbed his shackles. He slid the key in and unlocked them. Rubbing his wrist, Robb looked up at the Lannister man. Jaime just said, "We have an alliance then."

Pushing himself to his feet, Robb's eyes narrowed on Jaime. "Why?"

"If I don't give you up, Frey will have my head. I quite like my head."

"Why won't you give me up?"

"I've said it before, no harm will come to you. I promised that to your sister." Jaime began walking out of the cell, not looking over his shoulder to see if Robb was following. He knew he would.

As he led the way up to the keep, Jaime said, "Now, we have to attack swiftly and ruthlessly."

"We can't be swift from Casterly Rock. It's a three week journey." Robb called up the stairs to him.

"Yes. Which is why we will make camp at Riverrun." Jaime replied with a nod.

"Still Riverrun is another week at a good pace."

"It's good that I have someone to send ahead to distract the old man."

"And who would that be?" Robb asked curiously.

Jaime said, with a sense of arrogance, "His grandson."

Jaime and Robb sat across from each other in his solar, Sansa stood behind her brother, a hand on his shoulder so he didn't rise to strangle her husband. The men shot daggers at each other while Sansa looked hard at her husband. They had finally reached an agreement on their plan of action, but it had come after lengthy arguments and many insults hurled between the men. They all waited in silence now.

The door opened and Brienne of Tarth escorted Red Walder Frey in before leaving. His aunt Genna's youngest child stood awkwardly near the door and Jaime watched him. He had never been a timid boy by any means, but standing there, Red Walder was practically shaking. He knew that word of what had been in the note from Walder Frey had circulated the castle, although all ravens were meant to be secrets. In a place as big as Casterly Rock, secrets got out. Red Walder thought he was in trouble.

"Come closer, Walder." Jaime said, beckoning with his right hand to show that he wasn't all that intimidating. Red Walder walked over slowly and stood near the edge of the desk. Jaime cleared his throat before saying, "First, you are in no trouble." The young Frey actually let out a sigh of relief. "Second, we have use of you, if you'll help us."

"Anything, my lord."

"Sit." Jaime said, motioning to a chair near the window. Red Walder scurried past Robb Stark as quickly as possible and sat near Jaime. Sansa smiled reassuringly at him. Red Walder kept his eyes on his lord, waiting. Jaime explained, "We will send you ahead of the armies to your grandfather at the Twins. You will tell him that you escaped Casterly Rock with news of the Lannister army's approach. Of our attack. You will tell him that you couldn't risk a raven…"

"Must we tell him everything, Kingslayer? He's a page!" Robb protested rather loudly.

"Yes. He's all we have, King." Jaime said harshly. "Without him, all we have is an attack and thousands more will die. With this, we have a surprise of two additional armies. So yes, he will know everything!"

Robb sat like a surly child while Jaime explained the logistics of the plan: they were leaving on the morrow; Red Walder would have an escort to kill any Frey scouts before they could bring word of the armies' movements back to the Twins; they would add Edmure Tully's army to theirs at Riverrun before making their way to the Twins; the Lannisters would attack first; the Starks would come down from the hill while the Tullys came from the water on both sides.

Jaime told Red Walder to pick any horse he wanted from the stables and to go get a good night's sleep. The young boy ran off, a smile on his face. Jaime knew that he held no love for his family. The Lannister's eyes settled on the Stark man's, whose held reservations. "He'll do a good job."

"If he doesn't, Walder Frey will know exactly what's coming for him." Robb said, rising from his seat.

Jaime did the same and said, "Red Walder won't betray us."

"I've thought others wouldn't betray me then I received a dagger in the side for my trouble. I hope your people are more loyal than mine were." Robb said as he walked out of the solar. Brienne was waiting to escort him to his chambers. Jaime had asked her to stand guard — he had to convince Robb that he wasn't a prisoner still, that Brienne was for his protection and not to keep him in his chambers. Robb was stubborn and a child still.

Jaime followed Sansa into their chamber half an hour later and shut the door behind them. They went to war tomorrow and he didn't know if he would be back here with her again. He walked to the side table and began to undo the straps of his metal hand. He had mastered the ability to unleash its attachment to his arm with only one hand — he figured he would be doing it for the rest of his life, he had better get good at it. He honestly hated the thing, but he would feel humiliated it he went around without it. He would feel like he wasn't whole. The hand made him look normal because it was shaped like a real one. He didn't like looking too much like a cripple.

He turned around, free of the dreadful hand, to find Sansa standing in the middle of the room, facing him. His head turned a few degrees to the side as he surveyed her. She looked so timid, just like Red Walder had when he entered the solar earlier. He crossed the floor in two strides to reach her. He grabbed her hand and asked, "What pains you?"

She looked up at him under thick lashes and said, "I met with Maester Creylen this morning."

His face turned ashen. He reached up and caressed her cheek, almost wishing that he hadn't taken his fake hand off so he could hold her properly. "Have you taken ill, my love?"

She shook her head vigorously. He asked, getting more worried by the second, "Then what is the matter?"

She worried her lip before a nervous smile took over. When she spoke, it was in a rush with barely a break for breath. "He told me I should wait another month to tell you so we could be sure, but with Joffrey's death then Tyrion's betrayal and your father's death and everything, I wanted something good to happen to you."

"Sansa…" He began, but she shook her head to let him know that she needed to get it out.

"I'm with child, Jaime."

He stared at her for several moments, feeling the tears sting at his eyes. He honestly never thought he would be a father again. A child by Sansa would be able to grow up and actually call him "father" and not be shunned by the world. He would be able to teach his child how to shoot an arrow, thrust a sword, ride a horse. He didn't know how much he wanted it until this very moment.

Jaime kissed Sansa fiercely, trying to let her know how much it meant to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with as much passion as she had; he could tell that she understood. Against her lips, he whispered, "I love you."

She smiled and said, "I love you too," before pulling him toward the bed.