A/N: It seemed cruel to make everyone wait a week for the shortest chapter, so here it is as a bonus one! The regular update will still go out with the next chapter on Monday. Enjoy!

The spray in the wind whipped at Jamie's face, but not even the rough swell of water crashing over the bow could dim his grin.

His plan had worked. Sure, it had taken longer than he'd hoped and he only had a few moons of freedom, but it had worked. It was the first thing he'd ever done that had properly worked.

"The boy's more monkey than man," one of the sailors muttered. But Jaime knew the words were fond.

Even now, Bran sat atop the crow's nest, keeping watch with the nimblest of the crew.

Should be called a raven's nest, Jaime thought wryly. But soon the boat was dropping anchor in the little port.

Jaime whistled. "Boy! Get over here!"

A moment later, the small shape shimmied down the mast, grabbed a rope, and swung to the deck, landing easily on his feet.

An unexpected surge of emotions clamped Jamie's throat shut. This was whose ability to walk he'd stolen. Bran was the most agile creature Jaime had ever seen. To think Jaime had bemoaned the loss of a single hand.

"I've got a name," Bran bristled.

Jaime coughed, regaining use of his throat. "That you do. Doesn't mean I'm inclined to use it."

Bran scowled. "But I'm your squire, now. You have to treat me right."

Jaime raised an eyebrow. "And when people ask who you're squired to, what do you say?"

"I tell them I'm squired to the– oh."

Jaime tipped his head, knowing Bran had understood. "Come now, boy. We've people to see."

Bran shouldered a bag, scampering after Jaime down the wooden gangplank.

"Who do you know here?" Bran tugged the bag strap higher.

"Absolutely no one," Jaime said, surveying the crowd.

The man he looked for was impossible to miss. Lord Selwyn Tarth stood a head taller than anyone else on the island, as wide as a bear, his bright blue eyes more familiar to Jaime than his own hand.

Immediately, Jaime struck out towards him. "Lord Selwyn," Jaime said, offering that hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Jaime Lannister."

It was, truly. But Lord Selwyn took his hand warily, his smile tight. "I welcome you to Tarth, ser."

Jaime tried not to take Selwyn's suspicions personally. An irritated huff behind him made him turn and include, "And my squire, Bran Stark."

Selwyn immediately bent double, hands braced on his knees to grin at Bran. "Hello, my boy. I hear your father's been named Hand of the King."

Bran, struck with an unfortunate bout of nerves, nodded mutely.

But Selwyn's friendly grin widened. "You get tired of the capital already?"

Bran grinned in return, nodding fiercely.

"Excellent." Selwyn straightened. He glanced at Jaime. "Your letter said he liked to explore. There'll be plenty of that here. Hidden lakes and valleys to the north, with rock piles and woods and glens round every corner."

"It sounds fantastic," Jaime said truthfully. He was more thrilled to be here than he could explain to this man he'd never met, who had no reason to like or trust the Kingslayer. "I've heard endless good things about your island."

Selwyn eyed him suspiciously, searching for Jamie's sarcasm. What was it with this family and never believing him when he was sincere?!

All Jaime wanted to do was see Brienne, but he couldn't very well ask about a daughter he'd never met. "Will we… ah." He couldn't for the life of him think of anything other than Brienne. "Do you have rooms for us at the, er, castle, or should I inquire in an inn?"

It was unsubtle, and rude, and Jaime wanted to bash his head into a tree.

Selwyn's suspicious look increased. "I offered you my hospitality in my reply letter, ser. Which, apparently, you did not stay long enough in the capital to receive."

Jaime had not. He hadn't cared one whit what Selwyn would say – as long as Jaime had received permission from the king and Ned, he was on his way.

He cleared his throat. "Right. Ah, thank you."

Selwyn dipped his head graciously, his suspicious look never easing. "I have brought horses for the short trip, my lords. Shall we?"

Jaime was grateful that Bran had been well-trained and sat atop his mount with ease. From the back of his own mount, he shot a smirk at the boy that Bran returned. He was a bright boy and rarely slowed him down. Jaime had never before consideredtaking a squire, but honestly… it hadn't been half-bad.

There was a mile-long list of things he'd never considered before, like leaving Cersei, and so far, Jaime had enjoyed every single one.

Selwyn shifted his mount near the knight as they rode the steep, winding path up toward Evenfall Hall. "In your letter, you spoke of pirate raids?"

Jaime gave a nod. "I've heard you have trouble with them around these parts."

Selwyn frowned. "Heard from whom, my lord?"

Jaime blinked. Brienne had mentioned that pirates attacked on occasion. "Does it matter?"

Selwyn's lips pursed. "The last attack occurred more than two years ago and my forces were more than enough to easily drive the pirates off. And you say the king is now concerned? Enough to lend us one of his Kingsguard?"

That sounded pretty damn insulting, actually. Jaime had hoped to be the gallant knight sweeping in to aid Brienne on her little island, not insult her family grievously with his mere presence. Damn it all.

Jaime forced a grin. "The king wanted the boy and I to get some fresh air and said pirates wouldn't be too great a danger. Even better if they're rarer than we thought."

Selwyn hmphed, still less than pleased. He eyed the squire riding on Jaime's other side. "I hear you've come quite a long way, young Bran. How was the journey from Winterfell?"

"It was good," Bran said, looking down at his horse's mane.

"Have you ever left the North before?" Selwyn prodded.

Bran shook his head.

"Well, say something," Jaime said. "It was a long trip. Surely–"

"I had a direwolf," Bran replied, not looking up from his horse's mane. "Summer. He was good."

"A direwolf! That's an odd pet for a boy," Selwyn said with a jovial smile, but Jaime had a bad feeling about this story. "Where's your wolf now, then?"

"I don't know," Bran replied. "I had a dream that the king… that the wolves would die. So I drove them away."

"Them?" Selwyn asked.

Bran nodded. "Arya and Sansa had wolves, too. Now, none of us do."

Jaime had a vague memory of some drama with Joffrey occurring on the trip, but couldn't for the life of him remember what. Cersei had whined over it last time, but as he'd tuned her out then and hadn't been near any of it this time, he hadn't the faintest idea.

He remembered Robb Stark's direwolf. Remembered that one well. It was hard to forget his time as a prisoner with the massive creature snarling in his face.

"You miss him," Jaime said. Bran nodded. "We'll get you a dog or–"

"No, thank you," Bran cut in harshly.

Selwyn and Jaime exchanged a look, knowing they couldn't truly comprehend.

"How is your family, Lord Tarth?" Jaime said, delighted that he'd finally thought of a way to ask.

"Selwyn, please," he said. "My wife died some years ago. As did my eldest son." Briefly, he shot Jaime a weighing look before plunging ahead. "It's just my daughter with me now. She's my only heir."

"Ah," Jaime said, not sure what else could possibly follow. "My condolences on your wife and son. Is your daughter well?"

"She is. Thank you, ser," Selwyn politely replied, tense for some unfathomable reason.

Jaime nudged his horse faster.

An eternity later, their horses rounded a hill and Evenfall Hall sat atop a peak before them. Smaller, as castles went, but most certainly still a castle, and with an air of age about it that only Winterfell could match.

"It's tiny," Bran said, but thankfully Selwyn only chuckled.

"To you, perhaps, my boy. But it suits us just fine." In a teasing note, he added, "The entire island would be hard-pressed to support one so grand as the Red Keep."

"Or Winterfell," Bran replied. He smiled up at Selwyn. "It's nice."

With a ruffle of Bran's hair, Selwyn dismounted and led them inside. Jaime had a hard time following patiently behind.

The moment they stepped into the main hall, disappointment sliced into him.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, looking around the empty hall.

Selwyn raised an eyebrow and again Jaime was forced to realize how rude it sounded.

"They're out, going about their business, ser," Selwyn replied, his voice filled with a scathing patience that Jaime would have recognized anywhere. "Seeing as we received little warning of your arrival, the king cannot blame us for not having a feast ready in your honor."

"Of course not." Jaime had to bite the inside of his cheek to stifle any other reply. He wanted to ask if there would be food, if there would be Brienne, but as he couldn't figure out a way to say it without sounding like an ass, he opted not to say anything at all.

"Will we be having supper here with you, then?" Bran asked. Jaime sent a silent prayer of thanks to the god of squires.

Selwyn smiled at the boy, ruffling his hair again. Bran squirmed. "Of course, my boy. My men and I always dine with our guests."

"And your family?" Jaime added.

Selwyn shot him another suspicious look, pausing before his reply. "Yes," he slowly answered. "And my family."

"Good," Jaime said, unable to care about the other man. "Splendid."

As the steward showed the guests to their rooms, Selwyn's weighing look followed them all the way out of the hall.