"Safe travels."

'You know me, always careful."

Jon turned back towards the warcamp as Arya and her escort went over a hill and disappeared from sight, breathing a sigh of relief. It had been difficult to persuade her, but at last he had prevailed in sending her to request aid from Winterfell. Now he could expect reinforcements, and rest easier knowing Arya would be in less danger in the North. With the siege engines almost done, he could now allow himself some hope of bringing an end to this ludicrous war where one side seemed intent on helping the other.

Jaime turned as the door to his cell opened. A bare-chested marauder stood in the doorway and motioned for Jaime to follow him. A native of the easternmost lands by the looks of him, with only one eye, the other obliterated by a hideous jagged scar.

One of the cell guards made some comment that caused his comrades to laugh loudly, but Jaime's guide snapped irritably at them. The three guards and the marauder glared at each other, hands on weapons.

Jaime watched in confused silence before the scarred marauder made a contemptuous noise and grabbed Jaime's arm, pulling him along.

Not a word was spoken as they moved through the labyrinth of darkened corridors and stairways, but once again Jaime could tell he was not being taken to the sparring room. Two days after the Wolf's ceremony, he wondered what the barbarian wanted with him. Surely he would not make him fight one of them? The last he had seen of the resurrected monsters, they were dragged away in ropes and chains before the marauders had taken him back to his cell.

At last they emerged into the light, and Jaime was surprised to find they were on the battlements of Harrenhal. As he blinked he felt the marauder pulling him along again, and recognized the unmistakable bulk of the Wolf standing on the parapet some distance away. He stood looking out over a vast war-camp, rows upon rows of tents stretching all the way to the shore. At the edge of the camp was a line of trebuchets. They were too far to make out in great detail, but they were swarming with what Jaime took to be craftsmen.

The Wolf nodded curtly at the marauder, who stepped back, then looked Jaime in the eye.

"Now, gold-hand, you stand before an important crossroads."

The Wolf pointed out to the besiegers.

"Out there are the assembled armies of the Seven Kingdoms. Do you think they see you as an unfortunate victim to be rescued, an enemy to be rid of at first opportunity, or even an oathbreaker, willing to sell out his countrymen, his liege lords, his king even, all to protect his unnatural lust for his own sister?"

Jaime started. The Wolf didn't seem particularly sardonic, so it was still possible he had no idea he was talking to the Oathbreaker.

"What does that matter, since I'm inside and they're out?"

"Precisely. I am under siege, and you understand that I have many mouths to feed. Especially since some of those mouths have mouths themselves."

The Wolf snickered at his own joke, then went on.

"Like your sister, I have no intention of keeping hostages for the sake of it."

There was a pointed silence.

"Unlike your sister, I do not murder hostages for the sake of it either. Therefore, I intend to put you, your sister, and your daughter outside, where you will doubtless find many people anxious to speak with you on any matter of subjects. Subjects involving fire and sharp things, I imagine."

There was another silence, perhaps for Jaime to realize the full horror and hopelessness of his situation. He showed nothing, and it seemed to Jaime that the Wolf frowned for an instant.

"Unless, of course, you throw your lot in with me. I have already given you a taste of what rewards you may expect from the gods I serve."

The Wolf looked directly at Jaime's golden hand.

"Make your choice. Either you walk out these gates a free man, and watch as your sister is delivered to the tender mercies of the Dragonqueen's followers... or remain here, to defend your sister against those same followers."

"I..."

Jaime faltered. To aid the barbarian was a betrayal of everyone he'd ever known, every tenet of knighthood he'd wanted to embody, but to leave the fortress was to condemn himself, and more importantly Cersei and their daughter, to a slow death at Daenerys' hands. No amount of persuasion would let Tyrion convince her, nor would Snow argue again that every sword-arm was needed.

He could not even offer his knowledge of the Wolf's forces, one look at his enchanted hand would convince them that he had indeed been an honored guest and not a prisoner.

"Will you make Cersei the same offer?"

"Certainly not."

Shock spread through Jaime's body. Was Cersei then condemned to live the rest of her life raped and soiled by the barbarian's marauders?

The Wolf held up his hand.

"I will not make her the same offer... because I already did. She accepted with considerably more enthusiasm than you did, though I suspect not for the same self-sacrificing reasons. Your decision, then, is yours and yours alone, for I think we may take it for granted that she will not follow you outside if you do so."

Jaime bowed his head.

"I... I accept."

He winced, waiting for the Wolf's mocking laughter. Strangely, it did not come. Jaime looked up.

The barbarian was still looking down at him, but with an unreadable expression.

"Very good. Now, we'll see Xerhexes for a few details."

"Details?"

"Yes, he'll have to make you a new suit of armor since you're going to be participating in the battles now. Can't have the good people outside knowing their precious nobles have rallied to my banner."

The Wolf snorted derisively.

"It was hard enough convincing all seven of your kingdoms to muster against me in the first place."

"All nine."

Jaime could not say what had pushed him to correct the barbarian.

"Say that again?"

The Wolf looked genuinely ignorant. Jaime realized he had a rare opportunity to show his superiority over the Wolf.

"There's nine realms in Westeros, though they're called the Seven Kingdoms."

Confusion was swiftly replaced by fury on the barbarian's face. Grabbing Jaime's true arm and squeezing hard, he turned him to face the encampment.

"Start talking. Which are missing? How many!? Small wonder this damn siege is going so slowly if they can't understand a simple order to send their full forces against me!"

Jaime struggled not to squeal as the Wolf's grip tightened. His gold hand vibrated and pulsed.

The- I can't see from up here!"

A flash of inspiration struck him.

"Most likely the Reach!"

The barbarian released his hold.

" 'Most likely'? What does that mean."

Jaime moved his arm around until some feeling returned to it.

"It's to be expected, the lesser houses are probably fighting each other for lordship."

The Wolf looked unconvinced.

"Have they no lord they swear fealty to? If it's one thing you southerners are good at, it's licking boots. Why would they be the exception?"

"House Tyrell was exterminated, and no replacement found."

The Wolf's face twitched.

"By who?"

Jaime fell silent, but realized he had to give an answer before the Wolf discovered which two people were most responsible for the Reach's absence before his walls.

"By... a poisoner."

The Wolf sighed heavily.

"Of course it was. It's amazing how many ways this world finds to disappoint me."

The Wolf glared out at the encampment in silence for some time. Finally he sighed.

"So be it. Kruissla will be your tutor in the ways of the Serpent."

"Kruissla!? But I defeated him!"

"Indeed you did. Thus none is in a better position to teach you the peculiar joys of commanding and obeying."

The Wolf whistled, and the marauder behind Jaime grabbed his arm. Jaime turned and scowled, but with a start noted that Kruissla and Xerhexes had joined them without a sound. The iron-skinned marauder smirked suggestively at him as Jaime followed the marauder and the dwarf back into the walls.

The last Jaime saw of the Wolf was the giant looking, not at the warcamp, but back at the castle itself.