Chapter XXXIV: The Lion and The Wolf

Jaime remembered the last time he had went up North. Everything had perhaps started- and gone wrong since- then. It shamed him to think of the early days. He had been nothing but a proud Knight, so much in love with Cersei that he had done terrible things in her name. He would change so many things if he got the chance, but he knew that thinking about it was useless.

Jaime remembered despising the Northern air with a passion, and it appeared that his opinion had not changed a bit. He hated every moment of travelling there, especially during the nights that grew colder as they neared Winterfell.

His companion intrigued him and Jaime would even confess that she amused him. Arya Stark reminded him of Brienne had how she had behaved with him when she had accompanied him down South. She would steal glances at him every few minutes to probably make sure that he was not trying to escape, but she refused to talk at him. On the first day, Jaime did not try to talk to her either, but as days passed, he realized that he was not the sort of person to go through such a long journey without speaking, no matter what sort of companion he travelled with.

"You know, Lady Stark," he said, trying to make a conversation for the first time. "You might as well talk to me if you're going to look at me all the time anyway."

He meant is as a jape, but the Stark girl did not respond. He should have spent more time with Tyrion. His humour was growing weak.

A few moments passed before she glanced at him again and Jaime smirked at her in response.

"One would think you like looking at my face."

He saw her roll her eyes.

"Or maybe I'm thinking of ways I could slide a knife across your throat."

"There's only one way you can do that."

"I can try and think of atleast nine. Since it's you."

Jaime laughed. She was just as amusing as Brienne. He made his horse move a little closer to hers. If Arya saw it she didn't show that she did.

"I'm curious." Jaime eyes moved to the sword at her hip. "How does a highborn lady and a daughter of Eddard Stark come in possession of a sword, and talk of cutting up people with knives."

Arya faced him with narrowed eyes.

"You know nothing about me, Lannister," she spat. "And do not take my father's name from your mouth."

Jaime held up his hand in surrender.

"I never said I knew anything of you, My Lady, and believe me I do not. Except what my dear brother has told me. That is precisely why I'm trying to know something about you. And as for your father, I had nothing to do with his death so stop treating me like I killed him."

To his surprise, Arya laughed.

"Your entire family was responsible for my father's death, and you think just because you did not do it with your own hands that you are any less guilty of it?"

"I did not kill your father, Stark." he repeated, his voice low. His eyes fell on his sword which was tied to her saddle. He found no urge in himself to escape. "Even my sister- I do not think- wanted him to be executed. It was all dear little Joffrey, and of course your father's own foolishness."

He knew he had hit a nerve with his last words. Arya looked like she would have lunged at him in an instant if she had not been on the top of a horse. She looked at him with dangerous eyes: not the eyes of a highborn lady but the eyes of a person who did not just boast about killing; who actually had the ability to do it. Jaime found himself wondering- not for the first time- exactly what had happened to this girl in all those years. Arya Stark had disappeared. Then where exactly was she all these years?

"My father was the most honorable man in Westeros," she claimed, and Jaime could hear in her voice that she believed it.

"And honor got him killed," he replied. He was surprised how she refused to see her father's faults. Jaime could make a list of all the things his own father had done wrong in his life. He realized that Ned Stark truly must have been a great father: that his children refused to see him as anything other than perfect.

Arya stared at him long and hard then looked ahead of her.

"The only mistake he made was going South. He belonged in Winterfell," she said, then added softly, "We all did."

"No. Nobody belongs anywhere," he said. "We have to make do with what we got. If your father had let go of his honor for one minute, he would have lived."

Jaime pulled his reins and his horse stopped. Arya raised a brow.

"Did you know," he asked. "Ned Stark could have sat on the Iron Throne. He could have had it all and you could have been royalty. Robert would have given him it, had he only asked. But his honor stopped him then too, or maybe he didn't want it. It had surprised me then. Who in the Seven Kingdoms wouldn't want to be the King? But your father didn't. I think- that was the first time I realized how much I detested him."

Arya Stark laughed again.

"I honestly do not want to discuss honor with a man like yourself, Kingslayer."

Jaime couldn't stop his own cruel smile.

"It is because I slayedthe King, Lady Stark, that Westeros is not a pile of rubble now," he said. He was getting annoyed by how much this girl did not understand. It was not her fault; every man in Westeros thought of him to be as dishonorable as they come. But he could not help but feel that she was as stubborn as Ned Stark had been. She did look more Northern than any of the Stark children Jaime remembered; perhaps her father had left more of him in her than anyone else.

"So you are a hero?" she asked, making fun of him.

"You are a Queenslayer yourself," he said with the same tone she had used. "So I guess we are the same."

"Your sister deserved it." She looked at him with hate. Cersei's name had made her flinch with anger. "You cannot defend her. She was no less insane than the Mad King."

Jaime wanted to say no. But he knew that she was right. Cersei had perhaps been even worse than Aerys. He should have stopped her before she went out of control. It was one of his biggest regrets in his life. One thing he knew for sure was that he would always love his sister: even if he didn't want to, even after she was gone. Jaime did not think he had it in him to do anything else but love her.

"Have you ever been in love, Lady Stark?" he asked suddenly, without realising. A small smile crept up on his face when he looked at her. "You have, haven't you?"

"I do not have time for love," she replied calmly.

"It's not something to be ashamed of," he told her, and grinned when she bit her lip. "I have done horrible things in the name of love. I would say I'm ashamed but that would be a lie. Tell me something, Stark." He could see that she was uncomfortable with the subject, and it amused him to no end that out of all things in the world, it was the mention of love that managed to fluster Arya Stark, the girl who threatened to kill a man twice her size and had actually managed to kill a Queen.

"If tomorrow," he began, not caring that she was now giving him the most dangerous glare he had ever seen a woman give. "The man you love were to lay waste to all of Westeros, would you stop loving him? Or wanting him? Nothing changes how much you love someone. No matter how horrible they are or how wrong it is, you could never stop loving them. It is a curse, but a curse we all are doomed to live with."

Jaime realized that it was the first time he had admitted out loud that he could never stop loving Cersei. The words felt more concrete now, if they weren't already before. Cersei was someone who would never leave his mind until the day he closed his eyes for good.

He looked at Arya. She was staring ahead. Jaime saw in her eyes something he had always seen in his own everytime he looked in the mirror. Love: the sort that he had lived with since the day he had first kissed Cersei as a child. Love that he had tried to fight against for years until he had given up.

When Arya Stark refused to answer his question, Jaime knew her answer.

"The things we do for love," he whispered to himself.

Love will ruin us all.