After a long day's ride, Jaime withdrew himself into his tent. It was the largest tent by far and the center of the camp that was pulled up between a little cottage on the one side and a vast forest on the other. It would be another three days until they would arrive in Harrenhal, a visit he was not looking forward to. Harrenhal, where he dined with Roose Bolton and saved Brienne from the bear pit. It seemed so long ago, so much had happened since. His father dead, his brother gone, his sister growing more and more paranoid each day. She had commanded him to lift the siege at Riverrun, and if that was what she wanted he was glad to follow her order.

Pretty much everything was better than staying in King's Landing. He had never liked this place, the intrigues, the whispers, the disdainful glances of lordlings who called him "Kingslayer" behind his back. Apart from that, he was able to exercise his left hand with Ilyn Payne where no one could see and no one would talk. Lifting a siege was a fair price to pay for all that.

Peck had brought him a small supper of bread and roasted boar, but he wasn't hungry. Somehow he had not only lost his left hand but also his appetite. He sat at the table stuyding a card of the riverlands, when he noticed loud voices outside his tent. Ralwyn Prester entered the tent along with two of his men. One of them bled from his nose and looked rather furious, the other pulled a young woman after him. Her hair was in disarray and she bled from a burst lip.

"What is the meaning of this tumult out there?" Jaime demanded to know.

"She, my lord," Prester said, pointing at the woman. She had stopped struggling and stood upright, still bleeding from her lip. She looked Jaime directly in the eye. Green eyes, green like Cersei's, and they sparkled with silent fury.

"Who are you? A campfollower?"

"This bitch and her family shelter outlaws!" The man with the bleeding nose stepped forward. "She is a traitor and she attacked me, m'lord!"

"Is that true?", Jaime turned towards her. She looked calm, which seemed oddly out of place to him.

"No," she answered, holding his gaze, "It is not true."

"Liar! In the barn is a horse, a war horse! Do you think a peasant girl just went and bought a destrier? I do not!"

"Well," Jaime said, "I don't care what you think. What's your name?", he asked her.

"Estella. The ground your host is camping on belongs to my family. Yes, there is a war horse in our barn. But we didn't steal it. I've found it by the river and I kept it. The war has cost us dear, and we need a horse."

"What happened to your lip?"

She looked at her opposer with eyes as cold that it almost made Jaime shudder. "He wanted to take our horse away, and when I objected he hit me. I hit him back, just in case you're wondering why he's bleeding."

"Very well," he said, "Prester, you two, go. And leave the family and the horse alone. It's not yours to take. You," he pointed at the woman, "stay here."

"But m'lord...", her attacker cried.

"Enough! You heard me. Out!"

The men left the tent. And there she was left, standing upright and calm, with an attentive gaze. He looked her over. Long chestnut hair, a skin that told him that she was used to work out in the open. She had a slim waist, full breasts and long legs. She might have been considered beautiful, he thought, if she had more means than a peasant to dress herself up.

"Would you care for some wine?", he asked her. Slowly, she shook her head.

"My name is Jaime Lannister."

"I know. I've heard of you."

"Of course you have. Everyone has." He sat down on his chair. "I want to apologize for my men. They were told to keep to themselves."

"Then you should make sure they do, don't you think?"

He laughed. "You are quite lippy for a peasant girl."

"I have nothing to apologize for. We welcomed you to our grounds and this is how your men thank us. We've been through enough during the past months. We don't want any trouble."

"Neither do I," Jaime answered, "and that is why I will allow you to keep your horse." He looked at her, waiting for a sign of thankfulness, in vain. He cleared his throat. "Well, we won't trouble you for long. Tomorrow we will leave for Harrenhal. You may keep the horse and my men will not bother you anymore, I'll take care of that."

"Good. I take your word for it."

"It's the word of a Lannister, you may take it gladly and be sure it is kept."

She snorted, rather amused than scoffingly. "Very well, m'lord. May I go?"

For an instant he was reluctant. Later on he wouldn't even be able to tell exactly why he hesitated for these short seconds. Eventually, he unlocked the gaze, turned to the table and poured himself a goblet of wine. Without turning back he said "Yes, you may," and took a deep gulp as Estella left the tent.