Rumplestiltskin entered Robb Stark's tent and approached the table. "You wanted to see me, dearie?" he asked, resting his hands on the edge of the table's wooden surface.

Robb looked up from the maps. "Aye. I did," he said. "How did you know that Winterfell was in danger?"

"Oh, that?" Rumplestiltskin began. "Let's just say I sensed it. With this." Holding his left hand, he conjured up his crystal ball in a small whirl of maroon smoke. "With this, I can gaze upon anyone in any realm."

"How does it work?"

"All I need to do is focus on the person or place I want to view. And the ball does the rest."

Robb nodded slowly, but he didn't fully understand. He was going to question something when one of his bannermen entered the tent.

"Your grace. You have a messenger from the Queen," the knight said.

"Send him in," Robb said. "It's time we hold a meeting."

The messenger – one of the Lannister cousins, Alton – entered the tent. He looked at Robb and his other bannermen standing around the sides.

"What did she say?" Robb asked.

"She admired your spirit, Your Grace," Alton stated.

"And what then?"

"She …" Alton began but didn't know how to say it.

"If every man were held accountable for the actions of every distant relative, Ser Alton, we'd all hang."

"She tore the paper in half, Your Grace," Alton said in a rushed tone.

"You've acted with honour. I thank you for it." Robb looked over Alton's shoulder. "Lord Karstark, see that Ser Alton's pen is clean, and give him a hot supper."

"Ser Alton's pen is occupied, Your Grace," Lord Karstark replied. "The prisoners from the Yellow Fork."

"Too many prisoners," chipped in Roose Bolton.

Is there room for Ser Alton?" Robb asked.

"Does he need to lie down?" Lord Karstark asked.

Robb sighed. "Have the men build him a new pen. Put him in with the Kingslayer for now. Have your boy watch over them."

Lord Karstark looked behind him. "Torrhen," he called, and his son approached them, dragging Alton away with him.

"That will be all," Robb said, and his men disbanded and returned to what they were doing around the Stark camp.

Rumplestiltskin looked over at Robb. "You don't have the stomach for it."

Robb looked back at him. "At what?"

"At war. At being king."

"I've won every battle. I've forced the Lannisters into retreat," Robb told him.

"But you have too many prisoners. You're too merciful with them. Executing some of them would decrease the burden it's causing for your camp."

Robb shook his head. "They didn't ask to be brought into this war."

"And neither did you. And look at you now. A king commanding an army. Maybe they'd see you in a different light?"

Robb was silent. "Why are you here? Why are you still here?"

"That's my business," Rumplestiltskin answered as he turned to leave the camp, noticing that Talisa Maegyr was approaching the tent now.

Robb watched Rumplestiltskin leave and Talisa approach. Something good for the day to start off with.

"Your Grace?" Talisa began. "A minute of your time?" Robb nodded and beckoned her in, rolling up the maps on the table. "I've been treating your wounded men."

"And my enemies, as some of my bannermen are fond of mentioning."

"They're not my enemies," Talisa retorted. They were all wounded all the same. They all needed her help, no matter what sigil they wore into battle.

"That's what I tell my bannermen," Robb told her.

"I've already run through the supplies I brought with me. Some are easily replaced. Egg yolks, turpentine, oil of roses."

"But some are not."

"I need silk for stitching. I need fennel root for those with fever and willow bark. Mostly I need milk of the poppy. You saw what it was like to amputate a foot without any." Robb walked around the table and stood in front of her. Talisa watched before continuing. "I assume there will be more limb loss before this war is over."

"If you need help finding these…."

"I know where to find them," Talisa interrupted. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't interrupt you."

"No. Continue, my lady."

"You're riding to the Crag to negotiate a surrender?"

Robb nodded. "Yes."

"The Crag will have a maester, and he will have what I need."

"I expect he will."

"If I could write a list."

"Come with me to the Crag," Robb offered.

"I don't think that will be …."

"Let the maester show you his stores," Robb interrupted. "I want the wounded men to be treated well, all the wounded men."


Rumplestiltskin stood in one of the tents of the Stark camp. He stood at the table, resting his crystal ball in front of him and tightly holding its base in his hands. "Show me King's Landing," he said, watching as the crystal ball clouded and an image appeared inside. An image of Cersei and Tyrion Lannister in a room that he recognised. The Chambers of the Hand of the King.

He watched as Tyrion read a paper scroll before looking up at his sister. "Stannis Baratheon's fleet has been spotted sailing north past Tarth, 200 ships," he stated.

"More than we have," Cersei replied.

"Yes, that's more than we have. He'll be at our gates within five days, four if he has the wind."

Rumplestiltskin waved his hand over the crystal ball, and the image faded. "So, they will fight themselves?" he mused to himself before hearing a noise outside the tent. He poofed away the crystal ball before heading out of the tent, watching as a crowd of Northern men dragged Jaime Lannister through the middle of the camp.

He moved throughout the crowd until he saw Catelyn Stark and Brienne of Tarth, and he moved towards them. "What's going on?" he asked, but they overheard Lord Karstark before she could answer.

"Any man who stands between a father and his vengeance asks for death," they heard Lord Karstark say to the crowd.

"Lord Karstark!" Catelyn exclaimed, causing the lord to look at her. "This man is our prisoner."

"This monster killed my son," Lord Karstark said, pointing to Jaime.

"And crippled mine. I promise he will answer for his crimes, but not here."

"I will have his head. And if you try to stop me …" Lord Karstark said as he stepped forward.

Rumplestiltskin drew Excalibur from his holster and pointed the blade at Lord Karstark, stopping him from advancing. "If you want to get to her, you'll have to go through me first."

Lord Karstark looked at him. "I overheard you with our King. Even you have doubts over his leadership. Hell, he isn't even here with us right now. He left with some foreign bitch. Tell me, have you ever lost a son?"

Rumplestiltskin was silent. Memories of his own son – Baelfire – filled his mind. "I have," he said with a nod.

"Then you know what it's like."

"I do, dearie. I did everything I could to reunite with him. To make things right. But in the end, it wasn't worth it. So let this be a cautionary tale for you … You think you do the right thing by avenging your son, but all it will bring is a darkened heart."

"This is a war between the Lannisters and us. We've killed Lannister men before. So how would one more be any different?"

"Because it won't bring back your son from the dead. It will only leave you with a gaping hole in your heart. Besides, we need him as leverage. So, I demand that you stand down now, and we will let Robb deal with his fate."

Lord Karstark glared at him. "When your son returns, I will demand this murderer's head."

Catelyn shook her head. "Wise men do not make demands of kings."

"Fathers who love their sons do," Lord Karstark replied bitterly. "I promise you, before this war is over, I will have his head." He turned around and rushed away.

"Thank you for fighting on my behalf," Jaime Lannister called out to Catelyn and Rumplestiltskin. "I would have come to your defence, but …" he gestured to the shackles that bound his wrists.

Catelyn glanced at him. "Take him to the stockades," she ordered the North men. "Bind him with every chain you can find."

Northern men pulled Jaime up to his feet and began to drag him away. "You've become a real she-wolf in your later years. There's not much fish left in you."

"And gag him!"


That night, Catelyn and Brienne walked through the tents, watching and listening to the Northern men argue about the fate of Jaime Lannister. It worried her. Having Jaime Lannister as a captive meant she could still trade him for her daughters. But if he were dead, then the deal would be off.

"Your son returns at dawn, my lady?" Brienne asked.

"So they say," Catelyn answered.

"The Kingslayer won't last the night. The more they drink, the angrier they'll get. And when the Karstarks draw their swords … Who wants to die defending a Lannister?"

Catelyn looked up at Brienne. "Come," she said and headed towards Jaime's cell. She entered and looked at the captive knight. "I need to be alone with him," she told the guard.

"My lady," the guard began. "Our orders …"

"Your orders," Catelyn interrupted, "which I just gave you, are to leave me alone with him."

The guard turned and left Catelyn and Brienne alone with Jaime.

Jaime looked up at the Stark widow. "Come to say goodbye, Lady Stark? I believe it's my last night in this world." He looked behind Catelyn, catching his gaze on Brienne. He cocked his head. "Is that a woman?"

"Do you hear them out there?" Catelyn asked of the Northern army. "They want your head."

"Old Lord Karstark doesn't seem to like me."

"You strangled his son with your chains."

"Oh. Oh," Jaime said thoughtfully as he pretended not to remember the man he had killed only a few hours ago. "Was he the one on guard duty? He was in my way. And knight would have done the same."

"You are no knight. You have forsaken every vow you ever took."

"So many vows. They make you swear and swear. Defend the king. Obey the king. Obey your father. Protect the innocent. Defend the weak.

But what if your father despises the king? What if the king massacres the innocent? It's too much. No matter what you do, you're forsaking one vow or another." He took another glance at Brienne. "Where did you find this beast?" She was too distracting for him. He couldn't help but let his attention draw to her every few minutes.

"She is a truer knight than you will ever be, Kingslayer," Catelyn replied bitterly.

"Kingslayer," Jaime repeated. He had been branded with the name since he killed Aerys II in Robert's Rebellion. "What a king he was. Here's to Aerys Targaryen, the Second of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and to the sword I shoved in his back."

Catelyn stared at him silently. "You are a man without honour."

"Do you know, I've never been with any woman but Cersei. So in my own way, I have more honour than poor old dead Ned. What was the name of that bastard he fathered?"

Catelyn stared at Jaime. How dare he bring up her late husband. And his infidelities. She remembered when Ned returned to Winterfell, carrying a newborn baby with him. A baby that wasn't hers. It filled her with dread. "Brienne," she called.

Jaime smirked. "No, that wasn't it. Snow, a bastard from the North. Now, when … When good old Ned Stark came home with some whore's baby, did you pretend to love it?" He looked up at Catelyn, and he knew the answer. "No. You're not very good at pretending. You're an honest woman. You hated that boy, didn't you? How could you not hate him? The walking, talking reminder that the honourable Lord Eddard Stark fucked another woman."

Catelyn didn't take her eyes off Jaime. Instead, she held her hand out to Brienne. "Your sword," she ordered. Brienne drew her sword from her holster and gave it to Catelyn.