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Chapter 118

Jaime XXXIX

The column picked up speed as Winterfell came into their view, much to Jaime's delight. It seems the Starks have had enough dawdling, he thought. He was happy to boot his horse to a trot. Brienne, Pod, and Ser Addam were just behind him.

The castle itself looked grim against the steel gray sky. At their distance, they were still too far yet to see the guards patrolling the walls, but crows flapped overhead like vultures circling a kill. It made Jaime wonder if there were corpses piled inside. All around Winterfell were tents from the lords who had been locking Roose Bolton in for months. He saw the giant against an orange field indicating the Umbers. A smaller patch of the raised fist of Glover and the white star of Karstark were also prominent. From what he remembered, they ringed the entire castle, caging Roose Bolton in, though Jaime heard he'd never attempted to leave. Umber was attempting a strategy of attrition, but Lord Stark had told them there were two years' worth of food stored in Winterfell. As far as Jaime was concerned, they'd left Roose Bolton alone long enough.

In the space between the tents and castle, he could see wood constructions from the men building catapults to beat down the doors. Now they just needed the men. For a hated lord, Roose Bolton had done well to cultivate a sizable force in the North, so it took much of the North's combined might to come close to his numbers. Jaime was certain that once the war machines were ready, Winterfell would fall in a single day.

He felt an unearthly calm fall over him as it usually did on the eve of battle. Although he remained anxious about the fate of Cassian and the other children, he felt his concern for them fade into the back of his mind. He licked his lips like a lion stalking its prey. He was ready to spill blood and he would spill as much as the Stranger needed to slake his thirst.

Ghost seemed to understand the mood stealing over him. After having disappeared through much of the Riverlands, he stayed closer at hand, loping along easily. Jaime thought he saw an intensity in Ghost's eyes that matched his own. The dire wolf wanted blood as well.

"You're quiet," Brienne murmured.

"So are you," Jaime shot back, though there was no heat in his voice. He was careful not to lash out at an innocent.

Brienne waved his concern away. "It's the chill in the air." As if to prove it, the wind swept them and they all hunkered down to protect themselves against it. She shivered before she was able to banish it. He glanced over at Brienne with a worried frown. Under normal circumstances, he expected her to be ready and willing to fight, but her face was wan and sickly. Though she never complained, she could not quite hide her discomfort. "I'm fine," she said, "but we're speaking of you."

Jaime was quiet. The Brienne of old would have been able to see in him the lion preparing to spring. He had to remind himself that this Brienne was still green. Yet it had taken years for old Brienne to be in her first real battle that was more than a skirmish. Perhaps she would be quicker to grow into her own as a warrior.

As soon as Jaime saw the Stark army start to spread out in search of camp spots, he halted the Lannister army and wheeled his horse around to speak. "Captain Falon, I want you to see that the army gets settled. There's still time left in the day, so when the tents are up, I want you to drill. We may be heading into battle and I want the men primed. Ser Addam, you're coming with us."

He, Brienne, Pod, and Ser Addam trotted their horses up the road to where the Stark contingent were setting up camp. To his surprise, the pavilion was the first tent to be raised. Lord Stark, his son, Lord Umber, Lord Cerwyn, Lord Glover, and Ser Loras Tyrell were already there, crowded around a table.

Jaime was fixated and barely noticed Pod taking the reins as he headed over. "What news?" he asked.

Lord Umber and Lord Glover did double-takes as Brienne came up behind him and peered over his shoulder at the map. He thought that they seemed unhappy by her presence, and he leveled a glare at them which caused them to promptly drop their eyes. They weren't normally men who cowed, but he had a feeling they were attempting to keep the peace for Lord Stark's sake. Ned was looking more drawn than usual and he was so preoccupied that he hadn't heard Jaime's approach.

"We're waiting for all of the lords to arrive," Robb replied sullenly as he glared at Jaime. The boy had been cold to him since Jaime had confronted his mother.

Jaime cocked his head. "Do not dwell on the prisoners."

Robb shook himself from his thoughts and turned to him. "My lord?" His usual energy and bravado were lacking now that battle was almost a certainty.

"There's no point in fretting over the state of the prisoners. Bolton knows he's a dead man; there will be no leniency, whether they're alive or dead," Jaime growled. "Best to focus on preparing for battle."

He heard Brienne cough behind him and turned to her. "My apologies," she said, but he thought he caught amusement in her voice.

"Up to now, a large part of my concern was itching to end that leech's life," he clarified. "I want to be the one to put my sword through his heart."

"That may not be necessary," Lord Stark said, his voice an uncharacteristic dark blue that Jaime didn't recognize.

Jaime gave him a sharp look. "Is that so?"

"I have known Roose Bolton for many years. He is devious but not a fool. The reputation of his house precedes him, but I doubt the prisoners have come to significant harm. If I can speak with him, he may concede without a fight and live out the rest of his days at the Wall."

Jaime bristled. "Did the king order this?"

Lord Stark frowned over at him and said, "The only letter I have received from His Grace was the one at Riverrun granting Lord Tallhart Moat Cailin. He did ask me to send a message when we reached Winterfell, which I did in White Harbor. Unless you have your own letters to share about the king's desires, then he was not specific."

"Lord Bolton is a traitor. He shall be granted no leniency," Jaime snapped.

For once, the quiet wolf did not bend and there was ire in his eyes. "Winterfell is my hold, Lord Lannister. Have you not been cautioning me about the Long Night? It would severely impede our efforts to prepare if we had to spend the better part of fall restoring Winterfell after we tore it apart."

Jaime drew his mouth into a line and fumed. "If Lord Bolton was willing to negotiate, he would have done so in the last eight months," he snarled.

"Be that as it may, I will offer him this opportunity if for no other reason than to spare the children any more suffering."

Assuming they're even alive to spare, Jaime thought with a huff, but he stayed quiet. Though he was determined to be a thorn in Lord Stark's side, his power as a Lannister was less in the North. He had no means of applying his will without the support of the king. The planning for the battle in King's Landing had been scant at best; Aemon had only listened to their plans and not offered any himself. He also hadn't appointed anyone to lead the effort.

"If you insist," Jaime snapped, "but I consider it folly."

"You don't have to be there," Lord Stark replied.

"I am the master of war. As a member of the small council, I will be representing the king's will," Jaime said, narrowing his eyes.

Lord Stark actually glared back at him, but he ultimately sighed. "Very well, I intend to speak with him in the morning. Should he not surrender, we will proceed with our battle plan."

Jaime frowned. Assuming Bolton hasn't altered his own plan at this sign of weakness, he thought. It would hardly surprise him if Bolton tied up Bran Stark and dangled him over the wall for his father's pleasure. If the children weren't hostages before, they could very well be now.

He wondered what Roose Bolton knew about Cassian. Most men did not want their bastards, but also saw little reason to overtly support them. Lord Stark had been more of the exception than the rule. Only Dorne had kind regard for them at all.

Since Lady Catelyn had failed to inform Jaime that she was leaving for Riverrun, he's certain that Bolton must've read at least one of his letters meant for his son. Even now, his cheeks burned in humiliation at the thought that Bolton had been able to peer into the deepest part of his soul, the part only reserved for his loved ones. He's not sure what he would do if Cassian was one of the ones dangled from the wall. He would be hard-pressed not to kill Bolton in the negotiations and then not strangle Lady Catelyn for her gross negligence of duty.

"You wish to speak to my father?" Lord Domeric ducked into the tent, his voice pink with hope.

Jaime huffed, but Lord Stark nodded. "Yes, I think we can come to an agreement. Your father wants the best for his heir, as any father does. While we have never seen eye to eye, I know he can see reason."

Although Domeric appeared brighter, Jaime thought his expression looked doubtful. He spoke up, "I hope you are prepared to fight against your own father."

Domeric turned away, abashed. "I'm sure I can manage, Lord Lannister," he said, his voice a tremulous yellow.

Doubtful, Jaime thought, but while he pinned him with one of his patent glares, he left him to be. He had prepared for months even years, that he would eventually have to go against Tywin, and he still felt the sting of betrayal.

They spent the next several hours going over the plan of attack. The negotiating party would retreat and take control of their respective armies. Once the party was back within the army, Lord Umber and Lord Glover were to start the attack with a barrage from the catapults. Another two squads were to attempt to break the doors open with a battering ram. A unit of archers would accompany the battering ram and shoot the soldiers atop the wall who tried to interfere. Their companies of soldiers also had ladders built to reach the highest edges of the wall. If the catapults were unsuccessful, they were to swarm in and pull their way up.

Jaime was confident that they could get through in a matter of hours, but Lord Stark cautioned him that the walls of Winterfell were thick and had been maintained for ten-thousand years. Jaime then suggested taking the battering ram out of the equation and catapulting the door as the primary weak point. There was some back and forth about whether the aim could be that reliable. Lord Stark eventually conceded the point and at dusk a group of men were instructed to place the catapult in a spot that lined up with the door.

Brienne had remained silent throughout the entire proceedings. Jaime glanced at her occasionally to gauge her interest and every time she was absorbed in the strategies being laid out. He had a feeling that she had never been involved in such a meeting and was intent on learning. One time she caught him looking and he gave her a pleased smirk, which she returned with a blush in her cheeks.

The planning stage only broke when Jaime was satisfied. It didn't matter to him that the other Northern lords appeared to be exhausted by his intensity. For once, though, he and Lord Stark appeared to be on the same page, so they were able to agree in most areas. Jaime still gave way grudgingly on many aspects to Lord Stark since he was more familiar with the terrain and the castle itself.

He, Brienne, and Pod returned to their tents quietly.

Just as they were sliding into their cot, Jaime turned to Brienne. "Are you well?"

"It's just a stomach ache. I'll be fine," she mumbled, her voice was a peculiar shade of purple.

He blinked and frowned. Baelish's voice had been purple when he lied. He decided to ask her about it later, but there was a battle to be won. "I meant your feelings about tomorrow."

"Why wouldn't I be? I saw all the planning, to which I suppose I should thank you for your invitation," she replied, though her expression turned glum. "It seems that they didn't want me there."

"It hardly matters what they want," Jaime said in a huff. "I bet you could take them all single-handed."

"As much as I would like the opportunity, I'd rather save that for the battlefield tomorrow. I meant to ask: which contingent do you want me in?"

"You're staying with me," he said.

She sighed again, though in exasperation, her voice tinged orange with her annoyance. "One would hope that this isn't some ill-conceived means of protecting me."

"Of course it is! You wouldn't be in the battle at all if I didn't think you were prepared. But I want to have your back and you will have mine," Jaime said, leaning in to brush his hand along her cheek. "I wouldn't want just anyone to have my back."

"I suppose that makes up for it," she grumbled, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

"I insist though that Pod stay back. I don't think he's quite ready for battle."

Brienne raised her eyebrows. "He might not like that."

"He has no choice."

"I'm surprised you didn't leave him back with the other women then," her voice was green with wry amusement.

Lady Catelyn, Margaery, Alysanne, and the ladies-in-waiting had all been sent to Castle Cerwyn to wait out the war. With Lady Margaery so near her time, it was simply too dangerous and uncomfortable at the campsite. Much to his amusement, Lady Catelyn had been cross about being left behind, but for once Lord Stark saw reason and stood his ground. They were a mere half day's ride away and it would take no effort to move them once control had been regained in Winterfell.

"It was a thought. But no, I know better. That would only humiliate him. I can assign him to guard the catapults. That should be safe enough," he said.

"You seem pretty certain that Lord Bolton will not be amenable. Why is that?"

He was quiet for a moment and whispered, "I told you about the Red Wedding. He's conniving and deceitful. I fear it will grant him leverage to be addressed in such an honorable fashion. Much like my father, he sees honor as a weakness, not a strength. He will take advantage of that lapse."

"Should we not treat our enemies with honor? We dishonor ourselves not to."

"King Aemon made attempts to negotiate and each letter was met with silence. He was given his chance. Now he must pay for his sins. Now, to bed. I wish to be fully rested for battle."

The day dawned gray. As soon as the first tendrils of morning touched his eyes, he was awake. Much to his surprise, even Brienne grumbled at the early hour. He smirked and ran his fingers along her cheek at the lightest touch, but left her sleeping. She would need her energy. He sent for Podrick to be roused and they both had a quick breakfast of cold sausage and an apple apiece. Pod then helped him to put on his armor. As he was putting on the finishing touches, Brienne stepped in and frowned.

"You should have woken me," she said.

"For what? It's quiet."

Brienne scowled. "To warm up! I never fight without being ready."

Jaime gave her a feral grin. "It would be my pleasure."

He had a feeling the rest of the Lannister encampment were woken by the sounds of their swords ringing together as they battled. He paid it no mind. He wanted his soldiers alert.

A messenger bearing the Stark sigil delivered a message that Lord Stark was summoning the negotiating party.

Jaime, Brienne, Pod, and Ser Addam all took their horses into the encampment, but Jaime made the determination that only he was necessary for the negotiating party. Lord Stark appeared to be in agreement to keep it small, because he assigned himself, and insisted that Lord Domeric attend. It would be just the three of them and two soldiers apiece. He was pleased to see that Ned and Domeric both were dressed in their armor. He hoped that meant Domeric was fully aware of the consequence of failure.

The company mounted their horses and began to trot towards the castle. Jaime's unease grew as they approached. A mist had formed overnight and lay thick and low on the ground. He could hear the telltale crunch of frost as they continued forward, but otherwise the land was silent. The crows that had circled above Winterfell the day before were absent. Something about the castle was particularly forbidding as if filled with ghosts instead of an invading host. However, Jaime could just see the tops of the guards' helmets and spears as they moved across the wall.

They stopped a few dozen feet from the main gate and craned their heads back to see the top of the wall. "I am Lord Eddard Stark and we offer an opportunity to parlay with Lord Roose Bolton. See that he gets the message and send word of his impending arrival."

"Do not tarry. We will not wait long," Jaime called up, working his voice into a deliberate growl. Ned gave him an annoyed look, which he returned with a glare. If Lord Stark wouldn't demonstrate his power, then he would have to do it.

They waited for some time. Jaime had to work on breathing and keeping his shoulders loose. While he had never employed it, he recognized a stalling tactic when he was in one. Roose was deliberately testing his luck and hoping to catch them off kilter. For once, Lord Stark sat calm and undeterred, but Jaime had to hiss at Domeric who straightened up and sat stone still.

Just as Jaime was about to declare the time was up, Roose made his appearance.

"Well, well, Lord Stark. Are you enjoying the cold ground outside your walls?" From that distance, Jaime could barely see the muted green of glee as Roose peered over.

"Now, Lord Bolton, we're here to discuss your departure," Lord Stark said, his voice as hard and as colorful as the Wall.

Stark as ever, Jaime thought with a small roll of his eyes, not that he had any inclination to indulge Roose either. He remained silent and focused on Roose's figure, squinting against the harsh and bright morning light.

"Perhaps you can offer more favorable terms than the king," Roose replied in a haughty pink voice that made Jaime's lip curl for the unpleasant image.

"Your men will be free to follow their new lord, Domeric Bolton. You will receive an escort to the Night's Watch where you will take an oath and serve as a brother," Lord Stark said.

Jaime's lips tightened, flashing his eyes over at Lord Stark again. Far too agreeable. He deserves nothing less than his head on a pike.

Although Jaime could not see the smirk on Roose's face, he could see it in his voice, which entailed an interesting combination of pink and green. Jaime did not like how strong these particular moods were. He would never take Roose Bolton for a coward, but he expected him to be a fair deal grimmer and angrier.

"The Night's Watch is for paupers, thieves, that ilk—"

"Indeed. Far too good for a traitor," Jaime replied.

"Mighty words coming from you, Lord Lannister. Was your father not also a traitor?"

"Indeed he was. He lost his head for it. As will you," Jaime snapped.

"Lord Lannister," Lord Stark snapped.

"Tsk, I'm not certain I believe your terms, Lord Stark. How can you guarantee that Lord Jaime will not remove my head at any point?" Roose asked, the pink of his voice only growing stronger.

"While Lord Lannister may be master of war, he is in the North. As I am Warden of the North, you will have my full protection," Lord Stark called back.

You're playing right into his hands, Jaime thought, but he stayed quiet. They were getting past the point of negotiations and leaning ever closer to a pitched battle. Jaime could feel the growing tension in the air. He tightened his fingers around his reins and felt his own horse take a few restless steps.

"Being a traitor is all a matter of perspective, isn't it, Domeric? I had you foster with Lord Redfort, allowed you to indulge in pointless interests such as the harp, and gave you a promising match with Lady Alysanne Lefford. This is how you repay me?"

Jaime turned his attention to Domeric, who looked pale. "No, Father, please! You had to know this plan was never going to work! I was in King's Landing to see Lord Jaime Lannister's loyalty to King Aemon. He was never going to go along with his father's plan. I tried to save us both!"

"Still … you have managed to save something," Bolton said, the haughty pink draining away to a steely blue. "Where does it go from here, Lord Stark? Our families have feuded for a hundred generations. Do you think it will end?"

"I have great confidence our families can move forward and put this behind us," Lord Stark said. "Your taking of Winterfell was ill-conceived, but it need not stain the Bolton family name forever. The Long Night is coming. You were not there, but the king ordered a wight from beyond the wall to be captured and brought to the Red Keep. We saw it; the Long Night is real and it is happening. We stand our best chance against it by uniting together."

Roose was quiet for a moment as he seemed to consider them, but he was too far away to tell. Jaime could only imagine his amusement at hearing the Long Night being trotted out by Lord Stark.

"We haven't been able to put our conflicts behind us for a thousand years. Your forefathers committed great crimes against my forefathers and we struck back in turn."

"We can move on from them! Lord Jaime Lannister has not been condemned for the sins of his father. Neither shall your son," Lord Stark replied.

Again, there was quiet and Jaime felt the tension in his shoulders increase.

"Well, if that is the case, then this should be no hardship," Roose said, in his steely blue voice.

Jaime tightened his hands once more on the reins of his horse and squinted. He heard the release of a crossbow and Lord Stark grunted. Stark's horse reared, screaming, and he fell to the ground. Jaime's eyes widened and his mouth opened in horror at the bolt sticking out from the center of his armor. Lord Stark was weakly trying to sit up, but he was pale to the gills.

"No!" Domeric screamed, "What have you done?!"

Jaime's own horse reared and he struggled to control it, even as he reached back with his second hand for the bow and arrow he kept on his horse at all times.

A great shrieking cry rose up in the air. A murder of crows burst forth from the nearby trees, having been unnaturally silent, now cawing and crying erratically. They swarmed in the sky and like a cloud they moved toward Winterfell and descended upon Roose Bolton. Jaime could only just see him intermittently trying to swat birds away and bow his head for protection.

"Take Lord Stark," Jaime commanded to the soldiers who were milling about in alarm and confusion. He finally got his bow loose and nocked an arrow. He scowled fiercely, trying desperately to see through the birds. He loosed an arrow and it disappeared into the maelstrom. Roose was still fighting the crows. Jaime got another arrow. He could swear the birds thinned so that he could get a clear shot. When he loosed it, all he could hear was the shrieking of the birds, but just as quickly as they descended, they lifted away and Roose fell over the wall and landed at the entrance to the tunnel with a sickening thud. Jaime could see his face was a bloody ruin from the crows pecking and swiping with their talons.

Domeric gasped. His horse shied underneath him, but he didn't seem to notice as he stared at his father's corpse.

Jaime shouted, "Domeric!"

He blinked and stared at Jaime with an absolutely lost expression.

"Order your men," Jaime demanded.

Domeric only stared, until Jaime pointed to Winterfell. "You're the Lord of the Dreadfort now. His soldiers are yours. Command them!"

"I … uh … but … will they listen to me?"

"Send them to the Wall if they don't, but they owe you their loyalty now!"

Domeric stared up toward the top of the battlements, and then he straightened up and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Open the gate, as your Lord of the Dreadfort demands!"

The next minute passed with aching slowness. Just as Jaime was concerned it didn't work, they heard a great clank and the doors started to creak open. Jaime snapped the reins on Agro and sent her through, only the two Lannister soldiers in tow.

The first thing he noticed was the wet and rotting stench of bodies. He noticed several piled up in the far corner. The crows were plucking at the eyes and the exposed intestines. The bodies were too mangled and covered in mud to be quickly identified and it made the bile rise in his throat. If any of the children are in there ….

The Bolton men were all lined up in formation, stiff as statues, but they nearly all had the same lost expression. Some were apprehensive of Jaime's presence and a rare few glared at them, but he paid them no mind as he leaped off his horse. He started toward the castle, on a mission.

"Uncle, uncle!"

He turned as a high voice called out to him. A soldier with a helmet and the Bolton flayed man splashed across his chest ran towards him; Jaime only reacted, pulling his sword out to hold in front of him. The soldier skidded to a halt in front of him and ripped his helmet off.

"Joffrey?" Jaime lowered his sword.

"Uncle, I'm so glad you're here," Joffrey said, his face pale, panicked, and forlorn.

Jaime began seeing red and he snarled, "He put you in those?!"

"He said if I didn't fight for him, he would flay me alive," Joffrey replied, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

He would have me face against my own kin?! Jaime thought, resisting the urge to head back out and bash in Roose's skull. "You're safe now and Roose Bolton is dead," Jaime spat. Then he grabbed Joffrey by the shoulders to meet his eyes again. "Now tell me, where are the other children?"

"I, uh, I think they're in the godswood," Joffrey said in a voice that was shaky and yellow with fear.

"They're alive?"

He nodded vigorously.

"Follow me," Jaime said and began marching through Winterfell's halls, keeping his sword at hand. The servants that he could see watched him with wide fearful eyes and they huddled against walls or inside doorways at his approach.

When Jaime walked into the godswood, he was momentarily startled by the two guards Roose had left at the entrance. The both of them had been just on the inside of the entrance, standing quietly and hidden from his view. He heard their swords and immediately dropped into a fighting stance and took them in.

"What're you—" the guard started, but the words died in his throat and he froze, with his sword half up.

"Roose Bolton is dead. Lord Domeric Bolton is your new lord. Best be off before I find a reason to kill you," Jaime snarled.

The two men fled the scene and Jaime continued walking. He hadn't gotten far before Bran Stark himself came barreling out from between the trees and ran headlong into him. He crumpled to the ground.

"I'm not here to hurt you," Jaime said, sheathing his sword and holding up his hands. "I'm Jaime Lannister."

"My father! What of my father?" Bran asked, his unseeing eyes swimming with tears and his voice was a blend of purple and blue with grief.

"Your father is being tended to. He was alive last I saw him," Jaime replied.

"Bran," a girl called out. She and another boy came running after him, and skidded to a stop at the sight of him. She looked him over and said in a trembling voice, "Lord Lannister." She dipped her head as though she were a servant.

"Where are the Lannister children?" Jaime demanded.

"They're back at the weirwood. They were afraid to follow," the new boy said.

"My son, Cassian, was he with them?"

"Yes," the boy replied simply.

Jaime paid them no more attention and continued into the forest. His heart was beating in his throat as an overwhelming emotion gripped him. After so long fretting and preparing to be greeted by Cassian's death, the children had assured him that he was alive. Alive!

Once he pushed his way past the last trees, the clearing opened. Jaime staggered back. Myrcella was sitting at the base of the white tree, cradling a small boy in her lap. Juliana was playing with a pair of dolls, but as soon as she saw him, her eyes lit up and she cried, "Uncle!" She abandoned her dolls and ran across the clearing and threw her arms around his waist and began sobbing. He wrapped her up in his arms.

"Please tell me you're back. Tuh-tell me you'll never leave again," she sobbed unrestrainedly into his clothes.

"I can't promise we'll never be apart. But your time here has ended. I'm sending you to Casterly Rock when we're done here," Jaime whispered.

He looked up as Myrcella quietly approached, still holding the baby. Though she was wearing a smile, it was strained and he could see the fear and wariness in her eyes.

"Are you well?" Jaime asked, peering into her eyes.

"I'm fine, Uncle," she replied, but her voice was a wavering purple with the lie.

He felt the hair stand on the back of his neck and his rage boiled up inside him again. "Speak the truth. Did they …? They didn't, did they?"

Her lips trembled and she cast her eyes aside, unable to say a word.

Jaime growled, "I will kill the bastards who hurt you."

"Please, Uncle. I just want to leave," she said.

"You will," Jaime whispered. "I will be leaving with you all. You're safe now."

After so much anticipation, Jaime finally turned to the baby. He had the blonde hair typical of a Lannister and it had been allowed to grow into a golden lion's mane. But his face was buried in Myrcella's shoulder.

"May I?" Jaime asked.

Myrcella hesitated, but then handed him over. "He may not like you. He doesn't take to strangers."

Jaime barely heard her as he nestled the boy closer into his chest. He could feel the tension in the boy's body and he leaned away, but he did not cry.

"The soldiers didn't like it when he cried," Myrcella whispered.

"Was he hurt?" Jaime asked, his voice taut with his stifled anger.

"Yes, a stick was used a stick to slap his arms when he cried. He learned not to," Myrcella replied.

"Cassian," Jaime whispered into his ear. "I am your father. I will never allow anyone to hurt you ever again. You're safe now."

He went to sit under the weirwood tree and the other children followed him, crowding around him. Brienne and Pod found them there, listening to the wind ruffle the leaves of the trees as they all enjoyed a quiet moment together.