Jaime turned around as the door to his room creaked open. The Wolf stood in the doorway, and made a jerking motion with his head before turning around. Feeling a fresh burst of anger that sent his golden hand tingling at being so cavalierly summoned, Jaime nevertheless said nothing and left the room. The Wolf stood waiting in the corridor.

"Your blade is needed again, gold-hand."

Without warning the Wolf swung out, his gauntleted hand speeding toward Jaime's face. Once again the world seemed to slow, the Wolf's hand moving toward him as though through water. Jaime backed away, his shoulder pressing into the wall, the Wolf's hand passing harmlessly by.

"Good."

The Wolf nodded curtly.

"Your training is beginning to bear fruit with regard to your speed. Now we will work on your stamina."

Jaime looked back at his hooked armor in his chamber, but the Wolf shook his head.

"Not this time."

The barbarian turned, and Jaime followed. He knew they were taking a different route through the labyrinthine and ill-lit corridors of Harrenhal, but was only somewhat surprised to find himself in front of Cersei's chamber once more.

"Your sister's been moping ever since she discovered that even a bed-slave is more desirable than her in the eyes of those she's wronged. Fuck some of the misery out of her, will you?"

The Wolf shoved Jaime into the room that smelled of strong perfume and exotic incense. His last coherent memory was two women and a man, the former entirely naked, the latter's skin covered in metal. Then Cersei grabbed his hair and kissed him deeply, and he knew nothing more.

Jaime blinked as the mists of sleep left him, breathing in the heady air, now charged with heavier scents. At first his mind was perfectly blank, as though floating in an infinite ocean. Then memory returned, of what he had done, and what had been done to him, and he felt bile burning his throat as shame and horror at his own depravity threatened to consume him. He tried to move his arms, but felt something restraining them. He looked down.

Cersei was asleep, embracing him tightly, fingers clamped around his arms. Her peaceful expression almost made up for the thought of what they had both willingly participated in. She stirred and moaned softly.

Jaime's eyes shifted to the pile of cushions near the wall. Bjarnhilda was doing something profoundly unhygienic to Kruissla, who seemed to be enjoying it. In his drained state he could do nothing but stare in horrified fascination and it took him a while to realize Cersei had awoken and was speaking to him.

"Joffrey is alive."

Jaime froze. It was some time before he could answer, but it had nothing to do with his sapped strength. At last he was able to answer.

"What?"

He did not like the look in Cersei's eyes as she went on. He blinked blearily, it seemed to him that they flashed pink.

"He's alive, I saw him. The giant bastard's done something to him, turned him from me, but he's here. He's come back to me."

"How?"

"The magic of the gods. The true gods."

Now there was no hiding it, here eyes were definitely glowing, the deep pink of sunset. Or even the inside of her-

The door opened and the Wolf entered, speaking abruptly to Bjarnhilda and Kruissla before looking at Jaime. Rather incongruously, he was holding a cradle in one hand.

"Up you get, gold-hand. What you do at night is none of my business, but the night is long gone."

The barbarian wrinkled his nose as Kruissla and Bjarnhilda left hurriedly. The fresh air brought in by the door opening struck Jaime, replacing the fetid musk of lovemaking, sweat and spent fluids, and suddenly the languid torpor left him. Cersei glared hatefully at the Wolf, who responded with a contemptuous look.

"If you're done entertaining yourself, whore-queen, you have duties to attend to."

The Wolf hoisted up the cradle, Mirri's head emerging and cooing on seeing her mother. Without a word, Cersei pulled her daughter out of the cradle and started nursing, while the Wolf pulled Jaime upright with one hand.

"Hands off tonkers and on with trousers, gold-hand."

Jaime pulled on his breeches and what was left of his shirt after it had been ripped open by the frenzied lust that had overtaken them all in the night. At last the Wolf led him out of the door and back into the corridors, Jaime feeling his head becoming clearer with every step.

They stopped before the door of Jaime's room while the guard opened it.

"Wait."

The Wolf looked somewhat surprised at Jaime.

"Cersei said..."

Jaime hesitated. To say it would be to confirm it.

"She said our son is alive."

The Wolf looked blank for an instant, then nodded.

"So that's it."

The barbarian shook his head.

"No, he's not, but the mistake is easy to make. The man she saw... well, 'man', shares many similarities with your son, from what I've heard of the latter."

There was considerable contempt in the Wolf's voice, as though he had strict standards what was and was not a man.

"Even appearance?"

"Probably, yes, hardly surprising given his identical ancestry."

Jaime's confusion must have been apparent, for the Wolf went on, his tone mocking.

"He too was born of the counter-natural coupling of a brother and sister, raised in luxury by parents too weak to deny him anything. Of course, he ended up murdering his father, and there I believe the similarities end."

Jaime nodded. Was he disappointed or relieved that Joffrey had not returned? The transformations the other slain men had gone through still got between him and sleep.

"No, he's dead and gone. Probably best to convince her of it as soon as possible. What did you do to take her mind off her grief when your son died?"

Jaime opened his mouth to answer and closed it. Forcing his sister down and fucking her next to Joffrey's dead body was not his proudest memory.

"I see."

The Wolf was looking not at Jaime but his gold hand. Jaime gave it a look, seeing the metal melding back into fingers. What the hell shape had it taken?

"We have slightly more respect for the dead than to get to work replacing them right in front of their corpses, gold-hand... well, apart from Hrolf Wife-Seizer, who nailed his enemies' heads to his bedsteads as he explored their widows and mothers' holes."

The Wolf shook his head.

"Perhaps I should assign a bodyguard to your daughter, I fear that when she too feels sad it won't be your hand that wipes away her tears and silences her cries."

Jaime's true hand struck out without conscious thought, so monstrous was the implied insult. It struck the Wolf's armor, harming only himself, but he hardly noticed it.

"Hm? So there are some acts that you consider beneath yourself, gold-hand? I don't know, with the enthusiasm you southerlings show for marrying cousins, and your own degenerate predilections, I'd have thought it the next step in your line of thinking. All the better to keep the inheritance in the family, perhaps it was your father who suggested it to avoid seeing his legacy dispersed."

"You bastard!"

This time the Wolf grabbed Jaime's hand after the hit.

"No, my parents were married. They weren't related though, so I understand why you think I was born of furtive and immoral rutting."

The barbarian looked down at Jaime. The guard sniggered.

"Are you done yet? Between your daughter and you, you're the one throwing bigger tantrums. By all means, let it out, but don't hurt yourself overmuch, I still have need of you."

Jaime struggled, but the Wolf's hand moved no more than an inch. His head bowed, and the Wolf released his grip.

"This man... can I see him?"

The Wolf thought for a moment, but shook his head.

"Best not. I've never met your son, but I gather they're the same in mind as well as looks. Who knows, perhaps you'll remind him of his father, and I've told you what happened the last time they saw each other."

The barbarian looked annoyed.

"I let you meet, he may inquire into the rest of the family, and your daughter. He could well decide to shove her back inside your sister's cunt so both could experience the agonizing ecstasy of childbirth again."

Jaime's legs felt weak. The Wolf, for once, seemed to notice.

"Yes, he's done it before. Rest assured that in terms of petty cruelty, Kruissla could take lessons from him. Rest up now, you're fighting this evening."

The Wolf pulled Jaime by the shoulder and pushed him into his cell. Jaime waited for his footsteps to fade away before collapsing on the bed, utterly spent.

In the war-camp, a dust-covered messenger dismounted and entered the commanders' tent, speaking to Jon.

"My lord, I come before the reinforcements from Winterfell. They should arrive by the end of the week, your sister with them."

Jon thanked the messenger and dismissed him, who saluted and left.

The mood had lightened around the table at the idea of reinforcements, even if they were the wounded and maimed survivors of Winterfell. The Wolf's forces exacted such carnage as to make quantity the most important quality.