AEMON THE DRAGONWOLF

Part 2 - The Son's Song

Horrified by his sister's actions in King's Landing, Jaime Lannister sails north with a few trustworthy men. There are rumors of an impending invasion from beyond the Wall, and Ser Jaime would much rather die fighting than watch his mad sister, Euron Greyjoy, and Daenerys Targaryen burn the city he saved from Aerys. To his great surprise, the Kingslayer and the King in the North have more in common than they supposed.

Then Howland Reed's arrival exposes a long-kept secret, and Jaime Lannister receives a new challenge.

Sansa III

The morning was cold, as were all mornings these days. Winterfell lay under a blanket of pristine snow, with a pale Sun peeking out above the clouds. The castle was an island of noise and activity in the endless, silent white of the North.

As Lady Sansa Stark and King Jon Snow strolled along the castle courtyard, inspecting their bannermen's soldiers at their training, the clash of steel and wood was interrupted by a cry of alarm from above.

"Your grace! There are riders approaching the gate!" called a watchman from atop the wall.

"How many? Do they bear a sigil?" asked Jon.

"It's a lion, your grace! There are fifty of them or thereabouts," the guard replied. "They're raising a flag of truce."

Jon turned to Sansa, his grey eyes questioning. His hand tightened over hers. "You're the expert on Lannisters, Sansa." Do we trust them enough to open? he asked wordlessly.

Sansa looked around the courtyard. Between the local men, Jon's wildlings, and the bannermen's men that had come with their lords, Winterfell had over three hundred men inside. The chances that these fifty southrons would take the castle were slim. Slowly, she made up her mind and nodded her assent.

"Open the gates," Jon ordered.

To their great surprise, at the front of the column rode Jaime Lannister. He was much older and thinner than he'd been when Jon had seen him last, though Sansa remembered how gaunt he'd appeared when he'd returned to King's Landing with Brienne. That good lady froze behind Sansa.

"What brings the Kingslayer to Winterfell?" asked Ser Davos, stepping forward. The without an army? went unsaid.

Jaime looked at him in confusion, possibly trying to place the southron-sounding man among all the Northmen.

"I would request an audience with the King in the North," Ser Jaime replied. "Who are you, ser?"

"I am Davos Seaworth, Hand of the King," replied the older man.

Sansa saw Jaime's eyes widen in surprise. "Stannis Baratheon's Hand?"

"I was," replied Davos in his frank way. "But Stannis Baratheon is dead. I serve Jon Snow, the King in the North."

"You must be a good Hand, then," remarked the Kingslayer, raising a golden eyebrow. "Or a disloyal one. Will King Jon see me?"

"I will," said Jon, leaving Sansa's side. Ser Jaime turned, startled. Sansa saw his eyes widen and his face turn pale, and for a moment she felt gleeful, sure that the man was seeing her father's ghost instead of Jon. Her brother was certainly not the unblooded boy he'd seen during King Robert's visit, with his hardened features, growing beard, and the enormous white direwolf at his side. With his haunted grey eyes, his hair pulled back like Father's, and the cloak she'd made for him, Jon was a young Eddard Stark come again.

"Lords of the council, Princess," Jon said, nodding at the northern lords and Sansa, "Let us go into the Great Hall and hear what Ser Jaime has to say."

"Leave your men and horses here," Ser Davos instructed. "They will be attended to in your absence."

"And surrender any weapons on your person," ordered Lord Manderly, "or we shall remove them by force."

Jaime Lannister looked deeply unhappy, but he did as he was bid. Sansa had never seen him so subdued. As he surrendered his weapons, Jon took Sansa's arm and led her inside, where they sat at the high table. Jon sat in the Stark of Winterfell's chair, with Sansa on his right and Davos on his left. The rest of the council filed in, murmuring curiously. No one had any idea what Ser Jaime might want.

"His sister means to demand fealty from us," the Norrey guessed, furious. "She must know we'll never submit to a southron again. They're all mad."

"Even he wouldn't be so bold," protested Lord Glover. "Walk into his enemy's castle and demand his surrender, with only fifty men? There's some treachery afoot."

"Mayhaps she wants a marriage alliance with the Jon," the Flint suggested, looking horrified at the very thought.

"Well, that is never going to happen," Jon replied, sounding equally disgusted. "Cersei Lannister, Queen in the North? Never!"

Sansa shuddered in relief. If there was one thing she didn't want, it was to be Cersei Lannister's sister again!

The chatter ceased as Jaime Lannister walked in, now weaponless. He looked smaller now, without the mocking smile and the glittering armor and white cloak. Dressed in plain leathers and thick wool, with his long, golden hair now short and turning gray, he was a different man.

"Very well, Ser Jaime, let's hear it," sighed Jon, preparing himself for the worst. "What does your sister want?"

"I'm not here on her behalf," the Kingslayer said, to scoffs from the Northern Council. "Cersei has lost her mind. She blew up the Sept of Baelor with wildfire, and is forging an alliance with Euron Greyjoy. She cares nothing for the common people within the city."

"Casterly Rock is that way," pointed Lord Cerwyn, earning chuckles from the others.

"I know where it is," replied the Lion of Lannister tightly. Sansa could see a haunted expression in those green eyes that hadn't been there when she'd seen him last. "I'm no use there. I heard from a source I trust that you need men here, to defend the Wall."

"We do," Jon answered, nodding at the Kingslayer. "In fact, part of our army will head north tomorrow, to reinforce the castles along the Wall. But we have a problem, Lannister."

The man waited a moment for Jon to speak. When he did not, he looked at him quizzically.

"My council tells me that Lady Catelyn Stark struck a bargain with you, when you were Robb's prisoner. You would go free, in exchange for Sansa and Arya's freedom. As one might expect from a Lannister, you broke that promise."

"Lady Arya was still in the capital when I left!" protested Ser Jaime. "I didn't know she was lost until I returned!"

"But Princess Sansa was in the Red Keep," Lyanna Mormont said coldly. "Did you free her?"

"I did not," the blond man admitted. "She was married to my brother before I could do anything. But I sent Lady Brienne in my stead, when she disappeared from King's Landing" he added, nodding at the lady standing against the wall.

"The point remains, Ser Jaime," Jon finished in his most royal tones, which Sansa had made him practice until he sounded kingly. "The Kingdom of the North offered terms, which you accepted. You did not keep those terms. We've seen nothing of Princess Arya since my father lost his head."

"He attacked Father, too," Sansa spoke up. She'd almost forgotten about the whole affair, with Father's arrest so soon after. "He attacked Father and his men in King's Landing, and wounded him in the leg. Jory died that day."

Those who hadn't been in King's Landing muttered angrily. Jon's grey eyes were furious.

"Your mother kidnapped Tyrion!" the Kingslayer cried, exasperated. "She had no proof that Tyrion had done anything to your little brother, but she dragged him to the Eyrie and your mad aunt Lysa threw him into a sky cell! I just wanted my brother back!"

"If you'd waited for the trial, you would have gotten him back!" Sansa replied, her voice rising in anger. "You cut Father down when he'd had nothing to do with it!"

"Yes," said the Kingslayer, looking at Sansa in sudden disdain. "And my sister only arrested Eddard Stark because a red-haired traitor in his camp told Cersei his plans to run home. Little Sansa Stark killed her father long before Ilyn Payne took his head, because she was so desperate to marry sweet, handsome Joffrey, that she turned on her own family. Think on that before you blame me for old Ned's death, and while you're at it, Rickard Stark's death, and the winter, and the state of the roads!"

Sansa fell back as if he'd slapped her. The truth of his accusation stung more than any of Ramsay Bolton's twisted punishments, and there had been many of those. I didn't know, she wanted to scream. How was I to know? Cersei seemed so kind then, so understanding! Oh, Father, what have I done?

"ENOUGH!" shouted Jon, rising to his feet.

"How was Sansa, a mere child, to know the depths of your family's dishonor?" the King in the North said, and his men cheered him on. "I know Lady Stark did wrong in kidnapping your brother, but she is long dead, at the hands of your family as well as the Boltons and the scum-sucking Freys. And you, treacherous as you are, remain alive after all this time. So what shall we do with you, Jaime Lannister?"

Sansa felt a stab of irritation that Jon would speak ill of her mother, but he was right; it had been a stupid move for Mother to make. After being married to him, Sansa knew Tyrion Lannister better than any Stark, and he would not have murdered a crippled boy. For the first time, Sansa realized that Catelyn Stark had been just as responsible for her ill-treatment at the Lannisters' hands as Robb. It was not a happy thought.

"Cut off his head!" shouted Tormund. For once, instead of disagreeing with the wildling out of principle, the Northmen agreed with the Free Folk.

"Send him to the Wall! Let 'im freeze his bollocks off with the Watch!" shouted Lord Glover.

"The Wall is too good for the likes o' him!" protested the Wull.

"Feed 'im to the direwolf!" shouted a Cerwyn bannerman.

"Nay, the direwolf is a proper northern beast. It would be sick at the taste o' his southron arse," one of Tormund's men argued.

Jon raised a hand, and the noise died down, surprising Sansa. The Northmen were loud by nature, and not easily dismissed. It was a mark of their respect for Jon (and Father) that they listened to him so readily.

"I can see that this will take some thought. While we decide what to do with you, Ser Jaime Lannister, you may have bread and salt in our most comfortable cell. Your men are free to return south if they wish, or they may head north to Castle Black, if they truly came to help."

"You'll have to lock me up with the blond bastard," said a voice from the past. Sansa looked up, startled to see her first husband's hired killer, Bronn, step out of the shadows and stand beside Ser Jaime.

"Loyalty at last? I'm touched," the Lannister told the sellsword.

"Nah, I just figure I could wander up North again, freeze my cock off, or stay here where it's warm and there's food, see?"

Jon raised an eyebrow at the odd man. "And who are you?"

"Ser Bronn of the Blackwater," replied the sellsword, ignoring or forgetting Jon's title. "I was the little lord's hired sword, then I taught his brother to fight one-handed."

"A man of many skills, I'm sure," Jon replied, puzzled. "But I have no cause to lock you in the cells, Ser Bronn."

"Right," said Bronn cheerfully. He looked around the room, spotted Tormund, and attempted to punch him in the face. He struck the wildling's nose, though not as hard as he'd intended. Immediately, Tormund and five other wildlings had taken his arms and legs, immobilizing him.

"I picked a fight in your hall, King of the North," he said calmly, as though he weren't trapped by men who'd gut him in a flash. "Now you can lock me up and keep your conscience clear."

Sansa saw Jon shake his head in disgust, and motion for his wildlings to remove the two southrons.