Edited 12/23/2021 for a smoother read.

Chapter 8

Ned I

"Ser Jaime," Ned cried again. His heart was in his throat at the violent blow the knight took and he crumpled to the ground, unmoving. Robb screamed, but whether it was intelligible or not, he didn't know. He nocked another arrow in his bow and let it go with barely a thought. At the same time, he heard the crossbow loose. His arrow buried into the mammoth bear's eye and the bolt into its shoulder again. The bear staggered for a moment before falling to the ground.

"I did it! I killed the bear," Joffrey cried out.

"You wish you did," King Robert grumbled to his son.

Ned paid them no mind. He leapt off his horse and dashed over to the Kingslayer. Please, gods, don't let him be dead, he pleaded. The bear had narrowly missed falling on him in its death throes. The left side of Jaime's face was covered in blood that continued to spill from the four streaks of torn flesh that crossed up the side of his head, into his hair, narrowly missing his eye. He pulled the knight over and said, "Ser Jaime, can you hear me?"

He almost missed the green eye cracking open momentarily before it shut again as Jaime said in a weak voice, "The gods ... they wound me."

"Father, is he alive?" Robb asked in a shaking voice, looking pale.

"He's alive, but only just. Robert, we need to get him back quickly. He needs our maester!" He pulled at the white cloak and using Robb's readily available knife, began cutting it into strips and applying them to staunch the flow of blood on his head. The white immediately turned to pink as it soaked up the blood. "Robb, help me get him onto my horse."

"Very well," King Robert said. "You two, stay here. I want this elk and bear. We'll send a wagon back out to pick them up." The king frowned as Ned and his son worked to put Jaime on Ned's horse. "Cersei's going to give me an earful about this."

Who are you? Ned thought as he held Jaime in front of him on his horse. What happened to you, Robert, that you would have no urgency or sympathy for one of your Kingsguard? Ned urged his horse forward and the party rushed off back to Winterfell.

He had frozen upon seeing the mammoth bear lurch toward Robb. He had just started grabbing for his sword when he saw the Kingslayer's gray horse streaking forward and the knight put himself between his son and the bear. Unfortunately, his horse wasn't trained to go up against such a monster and so he had lost his grip and fallen off of it, but even so, he stood his ground as the bear towered over him.

Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, had just saved his son's life. And now the Kingslayer's life was in his hands. He was not looking forward to seeing Lord Tywin's response about this situation. Even worse, he hated to see Jon's reaction.

Ser Jaime had extended an opportunity to Jon that so few men, especially bastards, ever received. Ser Barristan had informed him that young men had been trying to convince Ser Jaime to take them as a squire for years, including the very promising Loras Tyrell. Even though a Kingsguard was never supposed to take bribes, as there was no honor in it, money had been offered and yet he had turned down each and every one. Until now, and Jon hadn't even asked for it. Clearly, Ser Jaime saw something in Jon to offer him such a lucrative position.

Or he wishes to lead him into a trap. Ned couldn't keep the dark thought from surfacing. He still didn't trust the Lannister, but the foundations of those thoughts were beginning to turn into sand. Although he still called Jon "bastard"—he seemed to take a certain amount of joy in being irritating—he had patiently been teaching him. Jon had always been a quick study with a sword, but it seemed his skills had improved exponentially in such a remarkably short amount of time. And considering that Ser Jaime was Tywin's pride and joy, from the most powerful house in the Westerlands, he still treated Jon fairly and did not abuse his power over him. It appeared that in no time at all, Jon would soon be a knight and perhaps serving in the Kingsguard, which would benefit Sansa when she marries Joffrey. It eased his heart to know that his daughter would have someone nearby she could trust in the cutthroat pit of King's Landing.

And then there had been the sword. Mikken had come to him informing him that Ser Jaime Lannister had put in an order for a sword and was very particular about the specifications. The whole thing had been baffling. At first, he thought it was for Jon, but became less certain when Mikken told him the design. It was for a sword that Jon had never held in his life. Maybe Ser Jaime was making another sword for his own use, but if that was the case, why would he commission it in Winterfell and not wait to visit the Street of Steel? Mikken had given it to him almost a week ago, but Jaime had saved the sword until he could deliver it to Jon, where he was enjoying his first breakfast with his family since becoming a squire had robbed him of that opportunity almost every day.

Perhaps it was Jaime's way of parading his wealth, but a normal knight doesn't give such a high quality sword to a bastard. It had to be Ser Jaime's way of claiming Jon as his squire: a way to show that he had no intentions of abandoning Jon and would keep him close and would give him the necessary equipment and knowledge to survive.

The more he thought about it, the more he found Ser Jaime's behavior puzzling, but it pointed him in a direction he had not wanted to acknowledge: maybe Jaime Lannister wasn't only a disgraced knight who murdered his king. Though a disgraced knight he still was, there was a heart and a sense of honor about him that Ned hadn't anticipated. It made him wonder that perhaps there was another reason that Jaime had for killing the Mad King Aerys than he initially thought.

He sighed in relief when the gates of Winterfell came into view. The guard cried out, "The hunt has returned. Open the gates!" As they rode closer, another call rang out, "Fetch the maester! We have a wounded man!"

The first face he saw was Jon's. He was in the training ring with Bran, his new sword in hand, but when he looked over and saw the blood-soaked rags on Jaime's face, his eyes grew as big as coins. He managed to sheath his sword without looking and dashed over, which Ned found very odd since he just received that sword.

"What happened?"

"A mammoth bear attacked your brother. Ser Jaime put himself between Robb and the bear, but it got in a hit before we could kill it," Ned said. "Help me with him."

Robb was instantly by Jon's side and together they were able to wrangle Jaime to the ground without dropping him. "To his room."

It seemed like everyone in the castle turned up to see Ser Jaime hauled through the halls. Just as they reached the door to his room, Ser Barristan and the queen showed up, and she screamed hysterically.

"Jaime! What happened to him?! What did you do?"

"My Queen, I'm sure they didn't do anything to him. It must've been an accident," Ser Barristan attempted to console her. She began weeping, but instead of swooning she rushed over with a furious look on her face.

She grabbed Jon by the arm and screamed, "It's your fault, isn't it?! You killed my brother!"

"Your Grace, he's not dead, he's injured," Jon replied. They'd had to halt while the queen confronted him or they would have dropped Jaime.

"Your Grace, we're getting him to his room. Maester Luwin is on his way," Ned replied.

"My Queen, please, you're only delaying Ser Jaime's treatment. Let's wait out here while we wait for the maester."

"I am your queen! I demand an explanation at once!"

Everyone seemed at a loss for what to do. Ser Barristan, for all of his calm and soothing words, could not talk sense or reason into her. Only the king could and he was still outside, no doubt arranging transport to bring back the bear and the elk. Ned made the decision to get Jaime into his room instead of continuing to stand outside. The boys all breathed a sigh of relief when they finally placed him on the bed.

"Let's get him comfortable. Jon, you're his squire so you know how to get his armor off. Robb, let's wait outside for the maester and console the queen, shall we?" Ned ordered.

Robb opened his mouth to protest, but he glared at him, so he said, "Yes, Father."

"You dare defy your queen," Cersei spat at him, drawing herself up. Her hair fanned behind her like she was a goddess descending from the heavens.

Ser Barristan looked embarrassed and appalled, "My queen, he's seeing to it that your brother gets the necessary treatment."

"And I demand an explanation."

"I apologize, Your Grace, but I thought it prudent to put him to bed. When we were on the hunt, my son Robb had just made a kill and went to claim it, but a mammoth bear showed up. It went after my son, but your brother acted with true honor befitting a knight and put himself between my son and the bear. We made an effort to kill it, but it hit your brother with a stray paw before we could bring it down."

The queen looked ready to crumple in Ser Barristan's arms as her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. Then a peculiar rage seemed to overtake her. "I want that bear's head now!"

"King Robert is making arrangements to have the bear transported back to Winterfell right now."

"Good. I'll have it skinned and gift the pelt to Jaime when he feels better," she said and strode off down the hall toward the courtyard, sending all in her way scurrying for cover.

Everyone in the vicinity breathed a sigh of relief and then Ser Barristan turned to Ser Arys Oakheart and said, "Keep close to the queen! I have to ensure that Ser Jaime receives the proper treatment."

"Lord Commander," the knight said and followed the queen, his white cloak billowing behind him.

"Ah, Maester Luwin, Jon's inside—" Ned began when the older man joined their circle, but at that moment, the door opened to Jon's somber face. "How is he, Jon?"

"No change. Still unconscious."

"Come, my lord, let's see what we can do," Maester Luwin said, heading into the room.

"But Father!"

"Father!"

"You'll only be in the way. Stay here. Make sure Lord Tyrion is informed, if he hasn't been already."

Ned sighed in relief as he closed the door. Maester Luwin was already seated at Ser Jaime's bed and he was attempting to pull the makeshift bandage from his face. "Do you need assistance, maester?"

"No, thank you, my lord. This would be painful if he were awake, but he's not. Now, tell me what happened."

He launched into the story, going into more intricate detail than what he told the queen. When he finished, Luwin was frowning at him, looking troubled.

"Will he be well, maester?"

"It's ... difficult to say. The outer wounds need stitching, but they'll heal well enough. No, what concerns me is that this injury may run deeper than we think."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind. It's too early to say. I'll explain everything when I'm done here."

"Very well, maester. I shall pray for his recovery," Ned said in a steadier manner than he was feeling. He never imagined someone as powerful or as important as Ser Jaime Lannister dying under his roof. Though he felt little for the man, he knew the ramifications would be severe, and no matter his transgressions, he certainly didn't wish death on him.

There was a knock at the door. The maester motioned for Ned to get it and when he opened he found a servant with a pot of boiled wine. "Thank you."

"Do you have all you need?"

"Yes. He'll need quite a few stitches, so it'll be some time before I'm finished."

Suddenly the door handle jiggled and they once more heard the dulcet tones of the queen screaming at whomever was the focus of her wrath. Ned took a deep breath and headed for the door.

Jon was standing contrite in front of the queen like he was a child who was caught decorating the floor in flour. Robb looked like he wanted to be by his side in support, but was afraid it would be construed the wrong way. He'd already warned Robb about tiptoeing around the queen. Even this far up north, he'd long heard of the way the queen severely punished others for the smallest of slights. Tyrion Lannister was standing next to Robb, fuming, and Ser Barristan's face seemed to be stuck in a permanent grimace and he was shifting uneasily. Catelyn had arrived with Sansa and Arya and was staring between the two in shock. Whatever she felt for Jon, she at least could see when the queen was being unfair.

"You should have been with him! You're his squire, are you not? You are supposed to make sure he doesn't get injured."

"Your Grace, I was ordered to stay here!"

"You would interrupt your queen? I will have your head for this! Run to the Wall, little boy, any future prospects you thought you had with House Lannister are over!"

"Oh, seven bloody hells, Cersei, would you give your voice a rest?" Robert bellowed from down the hall. He was stomping over to them, bearing a cask of wine. "The bear messed up his pretty face. It'll leave a scar, but I never knew a lady who didn't love them. He'll be fine. Tyrion, care for some wine?"

Lord Tyrion continued to look miffed, but he sighed and said, "Certainly, Robert. I'm assuming it's going to be some time before the maester is finished with my brother?"

"Yes, he has quite a few stitches to do," Ned said. He hated the way Robert treated his queen, but was grateful all the same that anyone else was spared her wrath. She was still fuming, but she simply glared at them all as she waited.

"It's well past lunch, shall I order the servants to bring food?"

The response was tepid muttering, all save for Robert. "Good idea, Ned! I sent the wagon out to collect the kills! My queen will get her bear head and pelt and, Robb, we'll be sure to give you a nice rack of antlers for your trophy wall."

Robb smiled weakly at the king and gave a muttered thanks, but then his face fell once more and he began whispering to Jon. Catelyn had immediately hurried off to order lunch and in a matter of minutes, a few small tables were put together and servant after servant came bearing dishes. Plates were served, but the only one who ate with any gusto was King Robert. Ser Barristan, Ned, and Catelyn all ate like it was any normal day, but Robb and Tyrion picked at their food, Jon played with his, and Queen Cersei refused a plate altogether.

At some point, the queen's children came by. Prince Joffrey was still crowing about killing the bear, Princess Myrcella fretted, and Princess Julianna cried. Both Sansa and Myrcella did their level best to comfort her, but there was little that could stave off her tears until Tyrion beckoned her over and began telling the young ladies a traditional story about a brave knight who saved a beautiful princess.

Dinner had almost arrived by the time Maester Luwin exited the room and he was immediately swarmed.

"What of my brother? Will he be all right?"

"Cersei, for Sevens' sake, let the maester breathe," Robert ordered her rather harshly, then he nodded at Luwin. "Go on, man, how is he?"

"He is resting and breathing easy. I used 75 stitches on the scratches. They'll scar, but it should heal." Everyone let out a collective breath but froze when the maester continued, "However, those are just his surface injuries. As hard as he was hit, it could be that he is suffering from unseen trauma to his brain. It's difficult to determine until he wakes ... if he wakes at all. I do not mean to cause alarm, but I want you all prepared for that eventuality. I want him watched at all times, if we could set up a schedule for watchers to sit vigil by his bed."

"I volunteer."

"So do I!"

"I will as well."

"Please, please," Maester Luwin waved his hands to slow the flood of voices. "Ser Barristan, why don't you handle a schedule?"

"It will be done. If you would like to volunteer, come to me after dinner. I will have a schedule drawn up by then and you can sign up for shifts."

"I want to help!"

"You're a good lad, Bran, but this should be left to the older boys and adults," Ned said, patting his son on the shoulder comfortingly.

"Agreed. Only those six-and-ten or older are allowed to sign up," Ser Barristan said. "It's been a long day, I think you should all start preparing for dinner. Your Graces, if you please."

Cersei sniffed, but then bustled off without a second word and her daughters trailed after her.