A/N: Thanks for the reviews, love. Really appreciate it.

Chapter 1

He had fallen asleep quickly, the fresh haystack the closest thing he had to a bed since his capture. So deep was he in his slumber that he failed to wake to the presence of another and instead was surprised by a cold splash of water that drenched him like a cave rat. Sputtering and shaking from the cold air kissing his newly soaked flesh, Jaime shook his head to drive away the hazy cloud of renewed consciousness. A soft twinkle of a laugh reached his ears.

"You're filthy." There was no laughter in her Tully blue eyes nor in the firm set of her mouth. He shielded his eyes from the brightness of the candle to find a little girl with no more than three or four years behind her black cloak. "Wash yourself by the water lever in the stables and change into some fresh clothes. Lyra?" The black haired child stepped forward with a smile and a set of fresh, plain clothes between her small hands.

"I am learning to stitch!" The little thing was thin, but puffed up her chest with pride like a boy at his first hunt. His father taught him to look down his straight Lannister nose at such attitudes from a girl, but Jaime found her oddly charming.

He accepted the gift graciously, the feel of smooth linen sang beneath his fingertips. "Thank you. I look forward to seeing your work." He rested the pile on his knee and balanced it with his stump of a hand on top of it so that his hand may reach out to touch the girl's soft cheek. Sansa pulled her back by the shoulders until the girl collided into her dress.

"Lyra, it is well past your time for sleep. Back to your chambers."

"But you promised me a story!"

The Stark girl knelt and smiled a smile as warm as sunshine, one he had seen only during his last visit to Winterfell, but never at the capital. "Find Septa Poma and have your story with her tonight. Tomorrow, I will sing you to sleep."

"Oh, but what will you sing?"

"It will be a surprise." She kissed the child tenderly on the forehead. "Now go. Have sweet dreams filled with doves and sugarplums." The girl kissed her on the cheek and ran, her footsteps making sweet patters on the stone floors. Sansa watched until she disappeared into the darkness.

"Won't you sing me a song as well, Lady Stark?" He chuckled to himself at the title.

"And what, may I ask, is so humorous?" She truly did favor her mother, her eyes warm as sweet syrup when she beholds a child, and sharp as knives at the sight of a Lannister.

"Lady Stark. Last I saw you, you were a child still." Even now, weakened though he was, he could snap her slender wrists at the bone.

"Yes, I was a child once. A child who dreamed of gallant knights and princes who would take me far away from here. To a place with feasts and balls and jousts, flowered crowns for beautiful girls." She turned her gaze to him, never once avoiding his eyes. "I have been to that place, Ser Jaime. I have attended dances and tourneys enough to last my whole life and that child is gone. The prince I dreamt of forced me to look upon my father's head skewered on the city gates and commanded his knights, the noble brotherhood of the Kingsguard, to strip me naked before the court and beat me bloody. Your beloved Joffrey killed the child you last saw and called it mercy."

It was he, who thought he was past all shame, who looked a way with a tense jaw. He wish he could defend Joffrey - claim that the power of the Iron Throne had corrupted him, that the spirit of the Mad King had overtaken him - but he always knew that his firstborn had inherited the worst traits of his house. Cersei told him that the Stark girl was disciplined for her insolence, but he knew what it was to stand in that throne room without a single ally. "Why am I here, Lady Stark?"

She sighed, her brows knit at a painful memory. "Your brother had an enduring fondness for you and Lord Tyrion did me many kindnesses during my time at King's Landing. As much as he could for a hostage to a barbaric king. Callous as he may be with his words, his tender heart would not have wanted to see you rot in that prison. I am bound by duty to honor his memory."

"Family. Duty. Honor."

"Family. Duty. Honor," she repeated. Tully words. "He truly did love you, your brother."

"And did you love him, sister?" He remembered the distaste he had for the marriage between his brother and a child. "Did you find it in that cold Stark heart of yours to love the Imp?"

A small smile quirked at the corner of her lips. Softly, she replied, "I don't love anyone who is not of my blood." From a small bag, she drew a small loaf of bread with ham wrapped in wax paper. "You were not in the mess hall tonight. We dine at sundown."

He took the food from her, noticing for the first time that his stomach was positively berating him. His teeth tore into the stale bread. "Do you usually let prisoners dine with you?" His question was met with silence. When he looked up, she was gone.