Chapter 7 Jaime, Sansa

Jaime.

Jaime gazed at the sunrise from the Tower of the Kingsguard. He had spent the night there, avoiding Cersei and dodging Tyrion's persistent questions, which he deemed unnecessary. His brother already knew that this war was lost, so he saw no point in providing him with more information. Besides, he doubted they would even believe him if he did. It was inevitable that they all would perish. If it wasn't Robb Stark who defeated them, it would be Daenerys Targaryen with her dragons, unless the White Walkers and their army of the dead arrived first, an idea that, though extravagant, Jaime accepted. However, no one would give him credit for it.

"Tyrion, it doesn't matter if we win or lose the war against the North, Stannis, or Renly. It holds no value. When the North falls, an army of mythical creatures will invade the South. We might even be roasted by a dragon before that," Jaime would express. His brother would look at him for a few seconds, then mock him and ask the same questions again.

"Son of a bitch, wretched, miserable!" Jaime cursed aloud, not caring that his brothers heard him and might consider him mad. After all, everyone now believed he had been tortured to insanity and released to preserve the honor of Robb Stark, who supposedly had captured him and crushed his sword hand.

Jaime Lannister, crippled like a defenseless pig. Furthermore, he had been tortured into denying it, and like a submissive sheep, he had yielded. Then, as if he held no value, he had been traded for a girl… a damned girl, in front of the Iron Throne, thanks to his brother and sister, whom he had considered more cunning than himself until the day before. Yet, the fear of the Winter Wolf's intrigues had driven them to seek refuge in their own nest, seeking safety. But there was no safe place before that… creature, Jaime knew. Not even the past.

Jaime remembered his first encounter after being captured, tended to, and locked in a windowless stone cell.

Jaime observed each of the lords who served that creature, and while he tried to bear the overwhelming pain of his broken arm, they only cared if his arm had been properly shattered in battle or if he had been treated like a mere animal.

At that moment, Jaime made the worst mistake of his life, despite thinking he was being clever. His answers had been vague, and when they pressed him, he complained of pain and claimed he couldn't speak.

After avoiding giving details to fifteen lords and insinuating certain things about his lord's honor, Jaime had beamed at the Winter Wolf when he visited him in his cell. He was sure he would be released soon.

The Winter Wolf was nothing more than a child. Perhaps he was fifteen at most. He wasn't very tall, had a typical height for a boy. He would go unnoticed if not for his blue eyes and reddish-brown hair. Though his armor and wildling clothes gave him a certain presence, he was no more special than any other youth.

"Ser Jaime," he replied cheerfully as he took a seat in a chair across from Jaime's bed. He wasn't tied to the bed, but every time he tried to move, he suffered intense pain.

"The Winter Wolf, I presume," Jaime said mockingly.

"You can call me Robb, Ser Jaime. I'm one of your admirers; there's no need to be so formal," he replied with a smile that indicated a genuine interest in getting to know him. Jaime sensed this, given that he was the most skilled swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms, and everyone yearned for a taste of his swordsmanship.

Despite feeling some apprehension, Jaime realized that what he was about to do was no longer as satisfying, but it was the price of freedom, and he was willing to pay it.

"Alright, Robb. Listen closely. You're going to set me free as soon as I can get out of this bed. If you don't, I'll tell all your lords that you crushed my arm when you captured me. I don't care if it makes me look like a common pig," Jaime threatened seriously.

"But that happened in the heat of battle," the boy said with a puzzled expression.

"I'm blackmailing you, boy. Do you know what blackmail means?" Jaime asked irritably, and Robb Stark stopped smiling, fixing his gaze on Jaime's eyes.

"Fine, I'm not a fool. I just wanted to give you the chance to act honorably. But if you prefer to play it this way, that's fine. However, you'll tell everyone straightforwardly what really happened," he said, pulling out paper and pencil and starting to write. He then handed over the note, which Jaime took with his left arm.

Jaime read it; it was a speech about what had happened to his arm in the battle. Jaime rolled his eyes.

"Kid, I can talk," Jaime said sarcastically and crumpled the paper.

"Yes, it's clear you can talk; my lords have told me. Now you'll learn to read too if you want to get out of here. If I ask you how your arm got injured and you omit even a single letter from this note, you'll stay here for a long, long time," he scolded and left angrily.

Jaime hurriedly smoothed out the paper. He had lost one of the few admirers he had, but he had gained his freedom… Well, first he would have to study that speech, but as soon as he managed it, he could escape from there.

Robb Stark wasn't joking, and he visited him up to three times a day to check if he had memorized his apology speech. Jaime supposed his lords were pressuring him, but that boy was too demanding. He wanted Jaime to recite the speech even if he were asleep and questioned about what happened that day. Jaime had always heard that honor was paramount in the North, and he had met the insufferable Eddard Stark, but this boy was taking things to the extreme.

A week later, Jaime even saw the damned speech when he closed his eyes and recited it in his sleep. Even the words had lost meaning for him; he didn't even know what he was saying. But finally, the boy agreed to release him as soon as he could stand for a few minutes.

Robb wasted no time and brought in a whole line of lords for Jaime to repeat the speech to. Thanks to the boy's words, they all believed Jaime was lying, but this world was full of hypocrisy, and they were content with him saying he had been wounded in battle to protect the boy's honor.

As he concluded his speech, as they had previously agreed, the boy announced his release. Although his lords spat on the ground, none opposed; in fact, they were eager to be rid of him. Jaime had managed to clear the accusations that the King of the West had held against the Winter Wolf, claiming he had injured Jaime's arm after capturing him, out of anger and revenge. Apparently, the boy had a problematic reputation, which cast doubt on his word and honor from various angles. It was imperative that Jaime testify in his favor.

Jaime should have thought about it and been suspicious when they questioned Robb Stark's honor instead of his own, he who was the Kingslayer without honor. Yet, Jaime was excited and already envisioned himself in front of his brother, boasting about how he had managed to secure his own release. Unfortunately, he was a fool, and as soon as the lords left, the boy revealed his fangs, offering the same sincere smile he had given on the first day they met.

"Ser Jaime, I believe everything is ready to begin your deconstruction," the boy said with a kind smile, causing Jaime to furrow his brow. Jaime thought he was losing his mind. "When we're finished, you'll have lost everything. You'll have nothing left. Your brother's support, love for your sister, respect for your father, what's left of your honor and reputation, and even wielding a sword will disgust you. Only then, you'll be free, and you'll understand who you truly are and what your purpose is in this world.

"That old crow can look for other heroes, and the rest don't matter to me, but as I said before, I'm your admirer and I want to help you," the boy explained. Jaime made a grimace.

"Kid, you can't back out now. Accept the loss and move on, it's for your own good," Jaime said without showing any concern, though Robb Stark sat in a chair by his side.

"Was that what you did?" he asked with an informal, even rude tone. "That day, after you killed the pyromancers and Aerys to save the city, and then found out about the murder of Elia and her children, how did you feel?" Robb inquired, and Jaime sat up suddenly, as if he had a spring in his back.

Jaime regretted his reaction seconds later, when excruciating pain made him scream and lose consciousness, while the Winter Wolf apologized to his lords and claimed he was innocent and not torturing Jaime.

Jaime woke up the next day, with two guards by his side, who hurried to inform their lords. After he could assure them he hadn't been tortured, the lords looked at him like a coward who wouldn't speak out of fear of pain. However, the other option was to tell what had actually happened, and he would never say that even if they killed him. Therefore, he corroborated the Winter Wolf's story and admitted he had hurt himself. Technically, it was true, if it weren't for the fact that this creature knew he would react that way, so technically it was his fault.

The lords spat on the ground and some reprimanded him for his cowardice, urging him to tell the truth and die like a man. They weren't hypocritical in claiming they would probably kill him to cover it all up, but at least he would die with dignity.

Jaime cursed them all, but felt a shiver at the Winter Wolf's kind smile. Since he didn't say anything, this creature regained unrestricted access to him, ordering the guards to leave and staying alone with him.

Jaime no longer underestimated him and knew this creature didn't have a bad reputation for being innocent; he had earned that reputation. However, Jaime was determined not to be provoked by anything he said. He gritted his teeth and closed his mind, determined that nothing he said would affect him.

"Did you know that Lancel Lannister's payment for getting the king drunk and offering him as an easy target for a boar to stab in the guts was a night with Queen Cersei Lannister?" the Winter Wolf asked, and Jaime stood up again, cursing and wishing to kill him, but once again, he faced hell.

This time the lords entered before, and to Jaime's extreme humiliation, they saw him cry. But again, despite suffering the most excruciating torture he had ever imagined, he couldn't say anything. He didn't dare say anything, he wouldn't speak even if they killed him. So, the next day, that thing returned to his cell to continue torturing him.

Jaime no longer trusted himself as much, but this time he resolved to isolate himself from the world…

"Do you remember Tysha, Jaime?" the entity asked, taking on the appearance of a child. Jaime's heart started beating in his throat and then expanded into his head, causing him excruciating pain. However, he managed to stand firm.

"Jaime Lannister, you have committed many atrocious actions in this life, but what you did to your brother, to your friend, and to that girl was undoubtedly the worst of all," the entity said with a sorrowful tone. Jaime gritted his teeth and cursed a thousand times within himself.

"But you are unaware of the extent of your sin. Allow me to explain it to you…

And so, day after day, Jaime Lannister was informed of one horrific truth after another. Tysha was still alive, and every night he dreamed of killing Tyrion and the Lannisters.

"Your father is a fraud, nothing you believe about him is real. He is a philanderer and is obsessed with sleeping with the prostitutes that Tyrion frequents. Many of those prostitutes are his spies.

"Your sister has never been faithful to you. She only rejected Robert because he disgusted her, but she slept with any man who aroused her, even when you were guarding her door.

"The war was a sham, Rhaegar did not abduct Lyanna. They fled together and got married, having a child…

"Joffrey was the one who sent an assassin after Bran Stark…

"In a few days, a sign in the sky will announce the return of the dragons…

And in the end, when Jaime felt like crying every time he saw him and begged him to shut up, he told him the outcome. Although, by some miracle, his father managed to kill him and win the war, when the North fell, the end would come from beyond the Wall. An end for everyone and everything. There was no hope; they were doomed. Jaime believed him. For a while now, he had stopped questioning whether what that entity said was true or false. Inside and outside of himself, even in the depths of his mind, he believed it all.

Upon releasing him, that entity even fulfilled its first promise and also took his pride, which had kept him alive during the hours of torture he endured at its hands. In the end, it had vanished too. He had nothing left, not even his life seemed bearable.

Jaime spent a day standing by his window, ignoring everyone who came to talk to him and console him. His sister arrived with a letter from their father, promising him revenge for what he had suffered at the hands of the Winter Wolf, but Jaime didn't long for revenge and, above all, he didn't want to face his father… He couldn't look him in the eyes. He threw the letter out of the window without even reading it. Touching it repulsed him. He had feared and respected his father his whole life. He had even admired him more than he ever admitted, but now he only felt disgust thinking about him and his stomach churned.

At night, Jaime allowed himself to be bathed and cared for, and the next morning he ordered a horse to be prepared, but he changed his mind and considered an alternative. However, he had to express a few things first. Things he had kept inside due to pride, respect, or fear; he had none of that left.

…

"I will join the Night's Watch," Jaime declared before the small council, laying his white cloak on the table.

"What?" Tyrion asked, being the first to regain speech after his astonishment.

"Jaime, have you gone mad?" Cersei exclaimed.

"Uncle, there's no time for games, we must win the war," Joffrey asserted.

Littlefinger seemed pensive, Varys gave a nervous smile, and Pycelle couldn't stop blinking. Jaime laughed, finding their reactions stupid.

"I'm not asking for permission, I just thought it would be rude to leave without saying anything. Besides, after all, I have some confessions to make.

"First of all, the reason I killed Aerys was not the war, not even that he had ordered my father's execution," Jaime said, looking at Varys.

Varys was the only other person who knew the truth. Varys sighed with feigned regret. Jaime knew what true sorrow looked like, and Varys's was pretended. Everything about him was a charade; Jaime saw it clearly now, but that didn't matter. Tyrion and his sister also turned their gaze to Varys, as if the spider had hinted at or revealed something to them. Jaime didn't bother to ask, he simply nodded.

"Whatever he told you is true, I lied to everyone. The reason I killed Aerys is because he planned to burn the entire city when the armies entered. He had hidden caches of wildfire all over the place.

"I killed the alchemists who obeyed that order and then I killed Aerys. As for the wildfire, it's still hidden beneath the city. If you plan to defend it, I suggest you retrieve it and secure it beforehand, or you might end up killing each other by a stroke of luck from Stannis's siege weapons, the Winter Wolf, or any of our countless enemies," Jaime warned.

Now everyone was looking at him the way Pycelle had, except for Varys, who observed him serenely. Jaime shrugged and looked at Cersei.

"Cersei, I always loved you and nothing mattered more to me than you. That's why your betrayal still hurts me," he declared. "Lancel, Cersei? You damn whore," Jaime insulted, trying to alleviate his pain, but he only felt emptiness. He stopped looking at Cersei, whose eyes seemed like they were about to pop out of their sockets from surprise and shock, and turned his gaze to Tyrion.

"I'm sorry, brother. I know you deserve to know the truth, but like me, the truth will only bring you pain and misery, and I can't do that to you. Please, I ask you to trust me. I'm your brother, I love you, and I want the best for you. Forget the past, you can't change it. Just live without looking back. Forget about Father, he's nothing, he's a fraud, he has no honor and he never fulfilled his duty, it's all a charade. Did you know he has a fetish for sleeping with your whores?" Jaime asked with a smirk, and Tyrion's eyes reflected surprise, just like Cersei's.

Jaime nodded; his brother was much smarter than he was, and in less than a second his mind made the connection.

"Yes, Shae is one of his whores, and she's with you as one of his spies. Get rid of her and find a real woman you can be happy with. You can do it. Just show who you really are. Ignore Father, his words hold no value, he's worthless," he said, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder. Then he left the small council chamber and headed to the docks; if he took a ship, he would reach his destination faster than on horseback.

…

Sansa

Sansa basked in the midday sun on the prow of the ship that, by her brother's order, would take them back home, that longed-for refuge. She took a deep breath and, for the first time in her life, understood the true meaning of the word "peace"…

Arya crashed into her, and Sansa let out a resigned sigh, but she didn't get angry because she had also come to understand what love was, the love for her family. She turned and helped Arya to her feet. Arya was wearing strange clothes; they weren't boy's clothes, because they were pretty and no boy would wear them, but they consisted of pants and a tunic, something a lady wouldn't wear unless she was preparing to undertake a demanding task, like riding a horse.

However, her little sister was wearing those clothes, and as Sansa had discovered from the septas, her brother had them made for her, along with the belt for her sword. If her mother found out, her brother would be in trouble, but her mother was still in Riverrun, and it could be a couple of years before she returned to the North. Until then, Arya and her brother would have unrestricted fun.

Before, Sansa would have already written a letter to scold them, but now she simply didn't feel like it, and it even seemed bothersome to her.

"Are you okay, little sister?" Sansa asked, trying to convey her affection in her voice as she helped Arya to her feet.

Arya, holding a wooden sword in her hand, looked at her as she got up and then abruptly moved away.

"Stop acting weird!" Arya scolded. "You're creepy," she added, and promptly received a smack on the head from her septa.

Arya complained as she rubbed her head.

"Your sister is just trying to show you her love, don't be rude," the septa reprimanded. Sansa nodded in agreement; she didn't want to fight with her siblings anymore.

"It's just that she's behaving weirdly," Arya complained. The septa smiled.

"If you finally emerged from hell, you'd act weird too. Your sister was tortured by that monster Joffrey, and now her family is all she needs to recover," the septa explained.

Sansa shivered at the memory of Joffrey, and the septa hurried to comfort her, giving her a hug.

"It's okay, everything will be fine, I assure you no Lord will intervene for him. They'll leave him alone with the Winter Wolf, and he'll realice that hell can be a very beautiful place compared to the Wolf's torture," the septa said.

Sansa remembered Ser Jaime's arm. Wendel Manderly had hinted that her brother knew about the treatment he was receiving and had made the Kingslayer pay, crushing his arm so the Lannisters would suffer.

"Yes, Robb crushed his arm," Arya said with a smile. The septa tensed.

"No one crushed anyone's arm. What happened to the Kingslayer's arm was in battle," she declared.

"Of course it was in battle," Arya said with a sly grin, looking at the sailors around her.

The septa gave her a strong smack.

"Stop twisting my words. I have enough of your brother. If I say it was in battle, it's because it was in battle. I was by your brother's side when it happened, and I was the one who shot one of the bolts when the Kingslayer charged at us, raising his sword as he rode, ready to chop off our heads.

"Afterward, that dishonorable bastard lied when my mother asked him how it all happened, to blackmail us into letting him go. I swore to my mother that the Kingslayer was lying, but since one of the bolts was shot by me, they believed I had no honor either, and my mother stopped speaking to me. Alongside old Karstark, they proceeded to restore the North's reputation by ensuring that the Kingslayer didn't reveal the supposed truth.

"Looking for the Winter Wolf was useless. The wretch just smiled happily and said he could use that, responding vaguely when the lords decided to confront him and ask him what really happened. They ended up striking a deal with the Lannister, who was excited to have played everyone.

"What an idiot. That very evening, he fell into the hands of the Winter Wolf, and the next day he was already crying like a little girl. I saw it with my own eyes. I've never felt such disgust and revulsion, I never thought someone with his reputation would break after just two days of torture. It was sad and disappointing. After a week of that pathetic spectacle, some lords even suggested ending his misery and sparing him the humiliation, as it was obvious that the Kingslayer was a coward."

"However, Rickard Karstark threatened to cut off the head of anyone who dared to kill him without first restoring the honor of the North, so the Kingslayer, who didn't dare to speak for fear of death, remained in the hands of the Winter Wolf.

"I didn't go to see him anymore after I saw him cry, but the servants told me that at night he had nightmares and begged the Winter Wolf not to come near him, while reciting the speech they had prepared for him to repeat every time he was asked how he received the wound on his arm. Disgusting coward," the septa declared, who by her story, wasn't really a septa, but the daughter of Lady Mormont, lady of Bear Island, Sansa thought, feeling a growing horror in her stomach.

She had heard stories about her brother and why they called him the Winter Wolf while they were in the Red Keep, but she thought they were false. Her brother wasn't cold, cruel, or evil. He wouldn't trap his own lords to behead one of them, just to prove his position. He wouldn't plan to harm his prisoners or torture anyone. But now… now she didn't know what to think and wondered if she truly knew her brother. Actually, she doubted if she knew her siblings at all. Even Arya seemed strange to her at this moment. Did she really know her own family? Sansa wondered sadly.

"He deserved it!" Arya pronounced and bit her lip when Sansa and the septa looked at her. That wasn't a statement; it was a judgment and a matter of justice.

Arya believed that the Kingslayer had committed a terrible crime, which was the opinion of many, but Arya didn't care about those things. She only cared about her own opinion, and if the Kingslayer broke oaths or lied, it shouldn't matter to her. Or so Sansa thought, but with what was happening with her brother, she wasn't sure.

"Arya?" the septa asked.

"I don't think I should say, it's a secret," Arya said, looking around. "The Northern lords might kill the Kingslayer if they find out," Arya whispered. Sansa and the septa frowned.

"The Northern lords are already looking for the Kingslayer to kill him. Now that he's free, he's our enemy once again. There's no problem with that," the septa said. "So you can speak." Arya pondered for a few seconds.

"The Kingslayer was the one who tried to kill Bran, pushing him from the old tower," Arya whispered.

"Bastard!" one of the Manderly sailors, supposedly mopping the floor nearby, roared.

Others stopped what they were doing and cursed under their breath, regretting letting him escape.

"Get back to work," the septa reprimanded after making a grimace.

"Yes, we had suspected something like that, especially when the Winter Wolf became so obsessed with him. And you're right, if it had been confirmed that he was the one who maimed your brother, they would have killed him," the septa said, patting Arya's head. "Don't worry, the Kingslayer is no longer our concern, and whatever happens to him won't affect your brother," she assured. Arya nodded and raised her wooden sword.

"Shall we continue practicing?" she asked, but the septa was looking towards the horizon with a twisted smile.

Sansa followed her gaze, and in the distance, she saw several shadows over the water. It looked like a fleet of ships."

Wendel Manderly, who was on the other side of the ship, gave instructions to head towards the fleet.

"Sansa, I know you want to go back home, but the Winter Wolf has plans for you, so we'll pay a visit to your political aunt, or at least I hope that's what it is. If that bastard is deceiving me, this time I'll kill him for sure. I won't lose my honor for his sake a second time," the septa declared.

Sansa was stunned. They weren't going to Winterfell; they were going to visit her aunt. Sansa only had one aunt, Lysa Arryn, but in court, they said she was mad and had secluded herself in the Eyrie after her husband's death.

"Which aunt?" Arya grumbled. "Robb promised we would see dragons…" the septa covered Arya's mouth while giving a threatening look around. The sailors ran for their lives.

"Why does your brother seem determined to make my life difficult?" the septa complained. "What exactly did he tell you?" the septa asked after letting her go.

"He said that if I agreed to sail there, I would see dragons," Arya said, and Sansa wondered if Arya had gone mad.

"It's possible, her brother is very sure of that. He was supposed to explain everything to you during the journey, after a stop in Oldtown. From there, we'll head to Qarth along with those ships, which are a gift for Daenerys Targaryen and her supposed dragons. As for us, we are her escorts. And you will present us to your aunt, Daenerys Targaryen," the septa said. Sansa could only blink.

"The Targaryens killed Grandfather Rickard, they are evil," Arya said.

"According to your brother, Rhaegar didn't kidnap your aunt Lyanna Stark; they fled together and married to have a child. Since she died, your father took care of him and named him Jon Snow, to protect him from Robert Baratheon's wrath, saying he was his bastard.

"That means one of your grandparents killed the other, and also that Daenerys Targaryen is your aunt. Now we are going to visit her and bring her some gifts," the septa concluded.

Sansa didn't think of anything else. She didn't know her brother, didn't know her family, the noble knights existed only in her books, and now she didn't know the world she had been living in.

NA 1: Hello everyone, as we can see, Jaime is heading to the Wall with Jon. Arya and Sansa are going to Qarth with a group of Northerners. When we reach Robb's point of view, we'll see his plans for this, but as I mentioned before, Jaime was just the tip of the iceberg in Robb's plans. He wouldn't let the dragons simply arrive with an army; he can already act on this threat from now on. Remember, Robb already knows that Daenerys is his political aunt, and of course, he will use this to his advantage.

NA 2: In the next chapter, we'll continue in the period of peace with a Tyrion point of view and another from Jon on the Wall, before his departure on the Old Bear's expedition beyond the Wall. Then we'll return to war, with the Ironborn invasion and the showdown between Stannis and Renly.