Jaime gnashed his teeth together, giving an irritable look towards Benjen Stark. The boy was a pain his side. He'd been trailing him all day long, perhaps on the orders of his older brother, and he was still keeping him from seeing Cersei.

His sister had promised they could have a few moments along, away from all eyes. And Jaime longed for that. But she seemed to have forgotten, so caught was she in the arrival of Rhaegar Targaryen. A soft curse made its way past his lips before he could stop it. Wide-eyed he turned to glance at Benjen, but the boy had just observed his sister coming down the hall, her small long face twisted in dismay.

Females were strange creatures, Jaime decided. He couldn't rightly remember what had started her most recent dispute with Cersei, yet in his heart he knew it hadn't been the broken dulcimer. After their musical performance was done – rather quickly at that too – both of them had made to return to the table, yet somehow Cersei managed to push her chair just so that the servant carrying Lyanna's instrument lost her balance and fell face first into the ground, splintering the instrument in the process.

How furious father had been. He even ordered the poor wretch whipped. Only Lyanna had protested to such punishment, reckoning perhaps that it was not warranted, but no one seemed to mind her. "On the morrow, you will have that flogging," the patriarch of House Lannister promised the cowering servant in a frightening manner.

The King was only too glad to nod his head and say that such behaviour must undoubtedly be rightened with a beating. Aerys Targaryen was of the opinion that anything could be solved through violence. Jaime had watched all that with a sardonic smile on his face. But even he had been aware of the rather dim nature of it all.

"Halt," he called out to his step-sister, putting himself in her way.

Lyanna made to pass by him, her eyes glinting with anger. "Out of my way," she ordered, her voice soft, but steely.

Jaime put his hand on her shoulders. Taller and stronger than her, he exerted an iron grasp of her thin form. "I'm your older brother," he reminded her, something in his voice sounding quite discordant. "When I say something to you, you listen."

"Is that so?" she questioned mockingly. In this they were quite similar. Lyanna Stark could be sweet, and most of the time she was. But at the same time, she was proud, somewhat quick to anger and nearly impossible to convince to do what she did not want to. In other words, as Ned would say, she had a touch of the wolf's blood. Just a touch though.

When in a good mood though, she was even willing to listen to his thundering about how father wouldn't send him to squire already. Jaime liked her, if truth be told. But he liked her brothers even better when they were not annoying him.

"Aye, that is so," he finally replied. "Take your brother with you."

Benjen, clearly affronted, protested that he would not leave until Jaime told him why he wanted to go out so late. "Nay, nay," the boy said with his most serious face, "I cannot let him go."

"Just tell the boy where you're going," Lyanna groused unhappily, clearly not in a welcoming mood. "After all, you aren't going to kill anyone, are you?"

Hissing softly, Jaime caught her arms and squeezed. "Help me and I'll help you," he offered.

Even the she-wolf felt the desperation in his voice. Her face softened, just a little, yet enough to tell Jaime that he had a chance. "Help me, will you?" she considered. "On the morrow, I want to take the child through the gardens."

"I'll distract father," he said after a short moment of silence. "Now rid me of this pest," he nodded towards her brother.

"I am not a pest," Benjen cut in.

"But you are," Jaime contradicted him, without ant bite the second time around. "Now leave me be, pest."

"Come, Benjen, help me find Ned," Lyanna told her younger brother in an authoritative manner. She held her hand out towards him.

Benjen's face scrunched in indecision, but he took his sister's hand. "I promised I would find out where he's going," the child complained. "Ned will be angry with me."

Much doubting that Ned would indeed be angry, Jaime sighed heavily. "If you must know, I'm going for a short walk outside. I'll sit a bit by the rocks with my thoughts. Here it's too noisy."

"Curious," the sole female murmured, "and here I thought you had none." She gave him an impertinent smile, as if she knew his every secret. Jaime bristled. Lyanna giggled to herself before sauntering away, Benjen trailing slightly after her.

Outside a cool breeze wafted through the premises. Jaime made his way to the rocks he'd mentioned and sat down. He looked straight ahead, at he knew not what. He waited, and waited, and waited some more. Thoughts ran rampant through his head, making his skull ache to the point where it became numb. Why had he bothered? Kicking a small rock with his foot after he'd stood up, Jaime felt pure rage welling within him. He wanted to yell out his frustration, but couldn't something stopped him.

It was the sound of laughter, not light and airy as Cersei sometimes laughed, nor tinkling and heartfelt like Lyanna Stark's. Nay, it was clearly amused, but graver, lower. Jaime could only conclude that it belonged to a man. He gazed discreetly at the road from behind the wide rocks.

The Prince and his companion were walking up the road, speaking something that he could not make out. The two were not even paying much attention to their surroundings. As they came closer and closer still, Jaime drew back as much as he could, but still paid attention. Perhaps he might even hear something of significance.

"I don't know," Arthur Dayne was saying, "that girl looks like she could be very much trouble. Did you see the way she protested? I thought she might do herself harm."

"She is rather impetuous," Rhaegar agreed, though he did not seem as concerned as his friend. "Some caution is all she needs."

Arthur laughed. "That's what you say now. Just you wait, and see what tune you sing in a few years."