Jaime's kiss was both comforting and exhilarating, she felt simultaneously safe and euphoric. They kissed for a long time, she was dazed, intoxicated, she could have kissed him forever. She broke contact only to whisper 'Were you alright? Did anyone come past?'

He shook his head, staring at her mouth. 'I missed you.'

'I was only gone a few hours.'

'Huh. It felt longer.' He nuzzled her neck. She could feel how hard he was through the material of his pants. She tried to squirm closer but the chain and thick bands of the cuffs dug against them. After another minute, Jaime heaved a frustrated sigh and rolled onto his back, releasing her. The chain clanked as he moved his hands.

'I have so much to tell you,' she said. Undeterred by his restrictions, she climbed on top of him. His lips quirked up. 'Aren't you tired? Where's this energy come from?'

'You inspire me,' she said.

He allowed her to lift his hands over his head, but when she went to kiss him again he brought the cuffs down and blocked her. 'No.'

'I know you want to -'

'I do want to. But not like this. Did you bring something back to remove these things with?'

'Yeah. An axe.'

'How big?'

She grinned. 'Fucking big.'

He smiled at her. 'Let's wait 'til tomorrow, then.' He gently but firmly pushed her off him. 'Lie down. Sleep now.' She turned and curled up, pushing herself snugly into the curve of him. His warmth and steady breath began to draw out all her hurts, like a poultice to her tired body and unsettled mind. An opiate trickling through her senses. Jaime breathed in deep at the nape of her neck. 'G'night, girl.'

'Goodnight.'

She slept like the dead.

Bright morning sun. She held the axe in both hands, remembering Gendry's words. 'Aim 'bout an inch to the left. Let the weight of the head bring it down.' She felt distinctly nauseous.

Jaime sat bestride a large dead tree trunk in front of her, the chain between his hands stretched taut out in front of him. He looked much more enthusiastic than the girl felt.

'Let's do this,' he said.

Sunlight sparkled along the links, remnants of fog lifting into the air as a breeze whipped up from the direction of the river. The girl adjusted her grip, altered her stance, stalling for time. She wasn't one bit confident about swinging the heavy axe with any degree of accuracy whatsoever. Anxiety jagged through her, and her palms hurt. Muscles twinged anew as she hefted the weapon to her shoulder. The roof of her mouth was dry.

'Don't make me wait,' Jaime warned.

'I feel nervous. I think... I should have another practise shot.'

'Fuck's sake. You already practised on the pumpkin. Stop over-thinking. Just do.' He looked about to explode with impatience as she hesitated again. 'If you don't swing that axe in the next five seconds girl, I'm seriously going to... .' He shook his head.

The girl licked her lips, took one sweaty hand off the handle to wipe it on her top.

'One...' Jaime said.

'Alright, alright.'

'Two...'

She heaved up the axe and fixed her eyes an inch to the left of the chain's centre link. She tried to forget his hands were there. As she swung out and down, the axe arced through the air almost of its own volition. The jolt when it hit jarred up her arms and she let go of the handle.

They both stared at where it had landed. The steel head was sunk into the log, a long crack splitting the wood both directions from the point of impact. Jaime's right hand was perilously close to the blade, the edge of his thumb almost grazing it. The girl felt sick at the sight.

Jaime moved his left hand out to the side and the chain rattled, dropped free to the ground. He sat up, moved his right hand out to the other side. 'By the gods,' he breathed. He spread both arms as far apart as they could go, threw his head back. 'Thank fuck.' He started laughing.

The girl felt dizzy with relief, laughed as well. Jaime grabbed the axe, wrenched it out of the log and in one easy motion with his right hand, brought it down deftly on the edge of the cuff that encircled his left wrist. The point of the blade slid through the metal like butter, and the cuff gaped open. The skin on his wrist was encrusted with dirt and stained black from the metal. Jaime switched the axe to his left hand and chopped again; the second cuff fell free.

'We did it,' the girl cried, clapping in delight. Jaime jumped up and grabbed her and they danced around the campsite like kids at a name-day party. They threw the chain and the cuffs into the bushes and cheered. Finally they were spent and sprawled out on the ground.

'You did good,' Jaime said. 'I knew you would.'

'Luck,' she downplayed, blushing.

'Luck works. So.' He stretched languorously. 'We should maybe think about getting going soon.'

'That's another thing I had to tell you...' The girl crossed her legs. 'I got a lift with a local trader last night, and he told me he was heading through to KingsLanding tonight. He offered to take us with him.'

Jaime frowned. 'I don't think so.'

'I know him, he's alright. He's a good person and, he won't care about you.'

'No. Forget it.'

She got to her feet, brushed the leaves off her legs. 'If you say. But we're going to find it pretty tough walking the rest of the way to KingsLanding. I don't think Sooty is coming back. If she were anywhere around she'd have found me by now.'

'We can't stay here, the Riverroad will only get busier the longer we wait. Let's get our gear packed, think as we walk.'

'If we can wait until evening, just consider the trader idea -'

'I have,' Jaime declared. 'It's a bad idea.'

'Why can't we just wait?' He can be so infuriating, she thought.

Jaime lounged back against a tree with casual grace. Unrestricted by the handcuffs, he reminded the girl of a big cat sunning itself. 'Well, let's see. That man-eating wolf we saw yesterday, for one thing.'

'That wolf won't...' She paused, not wanting to sound ridiculous. 'It wasn't trying to attack us.' At Jaime's frankly incredulous look, she stammered on. 'It... it was protecting us.'

'You didn't happen to eat any wild mushrooms whilst you were gone, did you?'

'I know it beggars belief but... you know how I whistled for Sooty? Right before the wolf came? I think when it saw me being threatened by those outlaws, it was like another time, another time when it... also attacked someone.'

Jaime yawned. 'Girl. If you think it was anything other than pure good fortune that we weren't the ones ripped apart by that animal, you're deluded. I told you not to whistle.'

'If I hadn't whistled, we'd be dead. Well, I would be. You'd be back wherever you came from, maybe minus some limbs.' Jaime opened his mouth to say something else no doubt scathing, but she hurried on. 'There was a wolf, a pet wolf, it escaped from around here. Around the time my brother was killed.'

Jaime still looked doubtful, but raised an eyebrow at her to continue.

The girl started slowly, wanting him to understand. 'The wolf belonged to a girl, a Lady, called Arya Stark. I don't expect you to know who she is but, she was travelling with the King's party when they came through here, her father was Lord Stark, of Winterfell. He was Hand of The King. And her sister was promised to the boy King. Anyway, this Arya, she was friends with my brother. That's what's so... incredible. Unbelievable, really. But it's true! Arya was there with my brother and the boy King.' The girl drummed her fingers anxiously on her thigh as she talked. 'My brother never attacked him, he attacked my brother. And then Arya's wolf attacked the boy King. All this time, everyone was wrong, just like I always knew they were!'

Jaime stared at her. She'd expected some reaction but he gave her nothing. Finally he said, 'So...this girl, Arya's, wolf just attacked someone? For what reason...?'

'Because he was hurting my brother!'

'Why?'

'Because the boy King likes hurting people? I don't know. Some people just do. It makes them happy, to cause pain to others. It's their thing. Those outlaws were like that, and the boy King is too. Arya tried to protect my brother, maybe the boy King tried to hurt her as well, I don't exactly know, but then the wolf attacked him.'

Jaime's expression didn't alter. He gave no sign of recognising any of the names she'd spoken. He crossed his arms. 'And you know all this -' he asked sceptically, '- The way it happened, the motives of those involved... how?'

'A.. a friend of mine was at the Inn last night. He knows Arya. She told him.'

Jaime considered her for a long moment, his face inscrutable. At last he sighed. 'Look, girl. I'm sorry about your brother. Truly. I believe you when you say he wasn't at fault. I believe what you say happened the way you say it did. But..' He rubbed his temple where the healing stitches were irritating.

'But?'

'Do you really, honestly believe that the same wolf that used to belong to this, Arya Stark person, is still in the area, more than a year later, protecting people? It's an animal.'

She knew it sounded unlikely. She knew trying to convince Jaime of it was beyond pointless. Nevertheless, she knew it was true.

She decided not to bother persuading him further, and started organising their things instead. Gathering up the rest of the food from the trader into a pile, kicking dirt onto the fire to hide it. Scattering the charred logs into the undergrowth. 'Well, at least now you know why I hate the boy King so much.'

Jaime turned away, but not before she saw the flash of exasperation. 'His name's Joffrey.'

'And?' she snapped.

'And, I'm educating you. If we're going to talk about this. He was a Prince then, not a King, boy or otherwise, and his name is Joffrey.'

'Fine.' The girl picked up a blackened branch and threw it forcefully into the bushes. 'At least now you know why I hate fucking Joffrey so much.'

Jaime reacted to her raised voice with a pained expression that told the girl he considered she was being immature, and it annoyed him to even have to witness it. 'It wasn't him killed your brother, you know,' he said, as the girl stalked around in a huff collecting their gear. 'Joffrey. He would have had someone else -'

'I know. His henchmen. But he gave the order. So I don't blame them. They were just... following orders.'

'Oh, I see. You hate Joffrey, but you don't hate the men who hunted down and killed your brother because they were just following orders?' Jaime snorted air through his nose. 'I don't like to be the one to shatter your illusions but these people love killing. It's what they do best. I'd wager they could've let your brother escape, if they'd wanted, but where's the fun in that? They chose to pursue him. It was a game. The thrill of the chase, the hunt. The man who actually killed him? He would have enjoyed it.'

'I think... what I think is...' It was getting hard to breathe, to talk, but the girl tried her best to stay composed. 'I would like to think that they... whoever it was who...' She drew in a shaky breath, released it. 'The person who killed my brother. I'd like to think it was difficult for them and that they felt... it was a job and they had no choice but to do it.'

'Then you're more naive than I thought.'

'Why are you saying this?' Her voice cracked. 'Because you want me to hate the man who killed him, too? Alright, I hate him too! He never met my brother before, they never spoke a single word to each other, this man never knew one thing about him, he only took his life, based on a lie. You want me to hate him too, alright I hate him too!' She had the urge to scream, to punch something.

Jaime held out his hands as if she were being unreasonable. 'I'm sorry this is distressing you. Your brother's death is defining your life and maybe it's a good thing for us to talk about it now. Get it out, before we go on. You need to know I'm only trying to help you -'

'Help me? By telling me how my brother probably died? How thoughtful of you.' The girl paced around the campsite, not even pretending to clean any more. 'Do you think I haven't imagined it all myself, a thousand times? You think I didn't hear the stories, about how they had to put all the pieces of him in a sack to carry; how he was cut in half; how his skull was split right down between his eyes with such precision that each half had the same number of teeth in it? How my father begged for them to give him his son's remains but by then he'd been thrown away, like rubbish? Do you think I don't lie awake and wonder which of these stories are the truth and which aren't, and if the truth is maybe something else even worse? But please, do continue,' she gestured, sarcasm choking her words, 'because listening to you tell me how much those who did these things enjoyed doing them is really fucking helpful.'

Jaime watched her, coolly. 'You are so full of hate towards the people you think are to blame, but there's more than one side to every story. And you don't know the whole story.'

'I know my brother never attacked the Prince. I know the Royal family, the King and the Queen, whoever else was there, they could've stopped him being killed, but they didn't!'

'Why would they? They only heard what they heard. Attacking a Prince is a crime punishable by death. And Joffrey was actually attacked, I take it?'

'By the wolf. By Arya. Not by my brother!'

'Then it's a shame that your brother had to pay for the Stark girl's crimes, isn't it?' Jaime had had enough and stepped in front of her, caught her arms as she tried to pass him. She struggled to pull away, but he was unyielding. 'Come here, girl.' He wrapped her into him and held her there, pressed tight to his warm body. She could hear his steady heartbeat. She tried half-heartedly to push away, but then gave up and let herself be held.

Jaime's voice reverberated in her ear from deep in his chest. 'Shhh. Listen to me. You don't see this clearly because you haven't grown up in their world. You're a commoner and that's alright,' He stroked her hair tenderly, smoothed it away from her face. 'It's one of the things I love about you. You see people as equals, no matter where they were born, and that's a great quality to have. But Princes and Kings... they live in a whole different world, one where they can't lose face. I mean, ever. They have to be respected.'

The girl listened, the low rumble of his words reassuring. He went on: 'The whole reason Kings are Kings is not because they're any better than anyone else. They might have bigger armies, but armies don't follow people who they don't respect. Kings become Kings because they can convince other people that they should be, and it's a powerful thing, having that respect. Powerful but fragile. Do you understand?' He looked down at her face. She nodded. 'That's why, if someone shows up a King, or a Prince, to be weak, or cowardly, or wrong; if someone shows them up to be a normal flawed person just like everyone else, especially in front of others, then there have to be consequences. Do you understand?'

She nodded again. Having Jaime's solid body around her, his body heat, had a tranquilizing effect. What he was saying didn't matter as much as that he was holding her. She hiccuped. He walked her gently over to the log and they sat down. He hooked her hair behind her ear, pressed his lips to her forehead.

'So. Here's what I think.' He tipped her chin up so that she had to look at him. 'There were two boys fighting, as boys do, and have done, since forever. Impressing girls, boosting their status,' he shrugged. 'Normal boy stuff. One of them wins and one of them loses. I don't need to spell out to you who has to win when one of them is a Prince. Do I?'

'No,' she said quietly.

'Look, your brother had no business even being in that situation, he was a commoner like you, but thanks to his... friendship with the Stark girl, unfortunately, there he was. So. It still could have ended with a few bruises, nothing serious. Your brother could have walked away with a scrape or two, let Joffrey have his win, and everything would have been fine. Until the Stark girl... what?'

'Hit him? Made her wolf attack him?' The girl's voice was barely a whisper.

He nodded. 'Escalated the situation. Irretrievably. A Prince, any Prince, simply can't overlook being made a fool of. There have to be repurcussions. That's why your brother is dead. Because some little rich girl with a pet wolf couldn't control her temper.'

'She wouldn't have meant that to happen,' the girl said, but even as she defended Arya out loud a cold thing uncoiled in her gut, full of venom.

'The worst things are often done with the best intentions. Or at least, good intentions are an easy excuse.' Jaime said. His rhythmic stroking of her hair was soothing. 'Arya would have known full well she was protected by her father, Lord Stark. It's easy to be an impulsive little brat and humiliate a Prince when your father is Hand of the King. And when your sister is promised in marriage to said Prince? Why, you're practically family. I mean, what's going to happen to you, right? Especially when your new so-called friend, a common villager, with a lowly butcher for a father, is conveniently right there to pay the price for it. I'm so sorry, girl,' Jaime kissed the top of her head, 'But it sounds to me like Arya Stark was not any kind of friend to your brother. She used him for her own purposes, she used him as a scapegoat, and now he's dead because of it.'

They were silent for a long time then, the only sound the wind picking up in the trees, and the distant call of birds.

Finally the girl shifted and sat up. 'I'm sorry we have to talk about this. You're right. Everyone there that day let my brother down. I have nothing but hate for any of them.'

'Hate is a strong emotion to carry around with you,' Jaime said. 'What are you going to do about it?'

'I want people to pay, but... what can I do?' She laughed bitterly. 'I'm no-one.'

'Maybe you should try to let it go,' he suggested.

'Would you? If someone hurt your family?'

He was quiet a moment. 'No.'

'Then don't ask me to.' She leant away from him. 'One day soon they will all get what's coming to them.'

'The belief that bad people ever get what they deserve is sadly unfounded -'

She put her finger to his lips to shush him. He lifted his hand and caught her wrist, turned it over. Then, he kissed her palm, on the cuts and the grazes, softly, taking away the hurt, and she felt each feather-light touch all the way down into her belly, like little sharp tendrils of fire. He licked her wrist, pulled her arm in towards him and planted little kisses up to her elbow. By the time he stopped, she was panting. He put his fingers on the hem of her top and curled them underneath, his knuckles grazing her bare skin.

'I dont want to talk about this any more,' he said.

'No,' she agreed, faintly.

Jaime ran his hands up either side of her waist, his thumbs rubbing under her ribs, then moving up further, brushing the swell of her breasts. His fingertips skipped lightly across her nipples and she gasped as the heat inside her flared up fiercely. Then he reached for the hem of her top again and lifted it up, pulling it over her head.

She closed her eyes as the material covered her face, and by the time she could see again, Jaime's head was bowed and his mouth was on her breasts. She threaded her fingers into the back of his hair, tipped her head back. The sensations that rushed through every nerve and fibre of her body were exquisite, almost unbearable. Jaime's hands were touching her, caressing her flushed skin, leaving liquid fire in their wake. She lifted her arms, tried to stand. Tried to undo the cord of her pants. He restrained her hands and stopped her. 'Let me,' he said. 'I've been wanting to do this since I met you.'

The girl sat and waited in excruciating anticipation as Jaime, deliberately taking his time, undid the cord around her pants and then her underwear, and they fell loose to her knees. He stood and pulled her upright, letting the material pool around her ankles. His lips pressed on hers, hard, his mouth open and demanding. She kicked off her last remaining clothes, the breeze gusting up cool on her hot skin. Jaime's hands moved down her spine to the dip at the base of it, almost spanning the width of her hipbones with his wide-spread fingers. Inside she felt like she was dissolving. The muscles of his arms tensed around her as she eagerly tugged at his clothes and pushed him down to the ground.

He broke their kiss and sat down, leant back lazily, let her straddle him. She knelt on either side of his lap and removed his top, as he watched her intently with dark eyes. The green in them shone like wildfire. The girl felt like she was burning up everywhere his gaze lit her.

Her fingers lingered on the healing cut in the middle of his chest, before she bent and gently kissed it. Then she moved her mouth over and grinning, bit lightly at his nipple. He drew in a sharp breath and suddenly his hands were gripping her firmly around her hips. He sat up and pushed her backwards all in one movement. She thought she had good reflexes, but by the time she hit the ground he had her pinned. She could feel his arm under her thigh, his palm cupped around her buttock. He looked at her and smiled as he leaned his weight inexorably against her, forcing her leg higher. Her head spun and her body melted. She was mindless.

Jaime leant forward over her and, supporting himself on one hand, he slid the other hand up to the crook of her knee, securing her leg there. The girl arched her back, groaned, tried to wriggle against him but he held her still effortlessly. 'Uh-uh, girl,' he said, his voice rough with desire, barely controlled. 'Don't think you're calling the shots any more. This time we're going to do it my way.'