A/N: Thanks for all the favorits and follows I got so far. There is a whole plot in my head but I'm not sure I'll be able to write it all down. Here is the third installment. Hope you enjoy it!

Beta: As always, lots of love to kabg01.

Disclaimer: I don't own GoT or HP for that matter.

The morning dawns with a coldness to its breeze that makes her shudder. She asked her maid yesterday to wake her early. She wants to leave King's Landing as soon as possible. It all feels so false. So prestigious but rotten. The announcement of Tywin Lannister's arrival was just the last thing she needed to finally make that decision.

It's not like she knows the man personally. All she heard so far were stories. Though she always tries to not be prejudiced she trusts the people who talked to her about him explicitly. What she heard wasn't comforting. Add to that the public knowledge what he made the older Clegane do to innocent children… No, she'll try to avoid the Lord of Chasterly Rock as long as possible.

Sitting down on her bed she tries to organize her hair into a braid but is frustrated after only a few moments. Hermione sighs once, then tries again, first combing her fingers through the thick strands and then parting them. As she is about to begin anew, her maid enters her chambers, dressed already for their departure. She giggles softly when she sees Hermione's annoyed face.

"May I help you with that, my lady?" She asks, curtseying only a second after as if she remembers herself. Hermione rolls her eyes.

"How often do I have to tell you that I'm just Hermione, Joan?" She asks and holds out the leather band she wrapped around her right wrist to later secure the braid with. Her maid steps forward and sits down beside her on the bed. With practiced ease she prepares Hermione's hair.

"I'm not sorry…, Hermione. Some servants were executed for less." The Stark girl flinches at that.

"We are from Winterfell. We stick together whether servant or not. It's what makes us strong." Hermione mutters and winces when Joan pulls uncomfortably hard. When it happens again the curly haired girl throws a frown at her servant.

"I'm not sorry for that either." Joan chuckles lightly and continues her task as if nothing happened.

"I'll be happy when we leave this place." Hermione mutters, her thoughts circling around the terrifying dreams that plagued her all night. Dreams about Winterfell burning. Of Ned dying. Of pain she never can describe even if she is considered quite intelligent. She doesn't believe in prophecies and all that nonsense. Something her mother used to admonish her about because the Stark family were, are and always will be strong believers in the old gods. Her words, not Hermione's.

"I don't know. There are some… advantages I'll dearly miss." Joan says, her voice lowering at the end of her sentence. Feeling the tugging of the leather band at the end of her braid, Hermione turns around sharply. Joan exclaims that she isn't finished but the Stark girl could care less.

"Don't tell me you let one of these court nobles get into your dress." Hermione sneers, both a bit disgusted and worried for a maid that is more like a friend. Joan's cheek - pale and even - turn a violent shade of red.

"Oh, Joan…" Hermione sighs and is surprised when a sharp look from her servant lets her stop short.

"Don't." The maid whispers sharply. It feels like a slap on the wrist like her governess was fond of doing whenever her stitching lacked her otherwise intense concentration. A bit more demure Joan continues.

"I don't have the privilege of safety." Hermione swallows because though young she isn't naive to what happens to girls like her maid when they don't get married early in their lives.

Free game, one of the crude smiths at Winterfell likes to say.

"I won't let anything happen to you." The Stark girl says, squeezing her maid's hand in reassurance. Joan looks up, her eyes shining with the first hints of tears.

"I know. But maybe even you can't protect me."

Jaime watches with trepidation clouding his eyes. He doesn't know when he had forgone sleep to stand out here, looking out for the first signs of his father. The sun wasn't up though.

The kingslayer both loves and hates his father. Love because he is his son and at least when it comes to strategy they can talk eye to eye. When it comes to learn how to run Casterly Rock, nourishing their power and influence; well, that is an entire different story.

Jaime doesn't want to marry for one. Not just because of his sister and his unhealthy dependence on her. But because he hates the thought to not be part of the King's Guard anymore. It was and is the first thing he did on his own. Because he is skilled enough fighting with a sword to be accepted. Trusted enough because though a Lannister he is fair (sometimes) and knows how to lead. To win a battle.

His father hadn't anything to do with his success.

If he would accept the title - Warden of the South, he would accept that most people would think he only got it because of his father. And that would be true. No one crosses Tywin Lannister, robs him of his influence or gold, and lives long enough to tell the tale. His father is ruthless like that. It is something Jaime hates as well. There is no honour in what Tywin does. Only cold calculation.

A sigh leaves his lips, his right hand closing hard around the pommel. A golden lion. His hand falls away.

The Lannister knows he isn't smart enough to avoid his father forever. And the Gods knew Tywin would only play Jamie's cat and mouse for so long. The golden haired man sighs.

Tyrion would be a good choice for Casterly Rock. He doesn't lack the determination, interest or strategic thinking. Tyrion himself - though hurt and doing everything in his power to let no one know he is - would accept the task. Grudgingly, yes, because he has a face to lose, but he would. The only thing that keeps his father from announcing him as his legacy is his height. That and because Tywin blames him for their mother and wife's death.

Jaime doesn't know why he doesn't blame Tyrion for it. He never did, if he is honest. Their sister on the other hand. Cersei is as calculating as beautiful. And as drawn to power as their father. A clever move to put her into a position of that much influence. Even Jaime can admit that. And though he loves her like no brother - twin - should, he is also relieved that he isn't in her hand anymore. He loves the sex, their closeness, but he hates to be chained to her like that.

And when Jamie counts everything together, he just wants to be free and acknowledged for what he can do. Not because of his connections or family.

Sudden hurried movement pulls him out of his thoughts and for a second he fears his father already arrived. But the banners swaying in the wind aren't stitched with golden lions on blood red linen. It's the coat of arms of House Stark. He frowns and without a conscious decision makes his way down to the commotion.

When his boots softly touch down on the stones in the courtyard, Lord Stark reluctantly nods his head in acknowledgment. Jaime strides over to him.

"Lord Stark. You're already leaving us?" The Lannister asks, with one hand pushing his golden locks out of his eyes. The northman doesn't answer right away and Jamie can feel his penetrating dark-gray eyes on him. The younger man tries to not wilt under that look.

"No." He finally says, his chin indicating to the maid talking to one of the guards. By the looks of it he will probably journey with them.

"Oh, your sister travels back to the north?" Jaime asks and feels a strange feeling settle in his bones. Eddard nods, still eying the Lannister distrustfully. The latter sighs heavily and turns away from the activity in front of him.

"Lord Stark, I had nothing to do with the murder of Elia Martell's children." He mutters, his eyes flittering one way and another to make sure no one listens in to their conversation. Eddard crosses his arms, his eyes taking on a faraway look before the gray fire he is know for burns in their depths.

"You aren't." He admits finally and Jaime's mouth pulls into a half-hearted smile at his admission. He wants to pick up his questioning again - because something about Lord Stark's sister unsettles him enough to care about her departure. Before he can the Warden of the North pierces him with unwavering dislike.

"You didn't kill helpless children. But killing one's king isn't something anyone can be proud of-" Eddard says measuredly. His sentence is picked up suddenly by a totally different voice.

"Least of all if it is for all the wrong reasons." Jaime turns around quickly, his eyes taking in the woman - no, he has to admit woman doesn't cut it - in front of him. She is an appearance and he feels both burned and saved at her smoldering gaze.

"Lady Hermione." He says, hates that his voice is slightly breathless, and bows deeply. He averts his eyes when he sees the calculating expression on her face. It reminds him too much of his family. Of the woman he made love to on her wedding day.

"Ser Jamie." She replies, her voice not hiding the distrust she seems to feel for him. When they first met again on her way to Robert he didn't know what he did wrong. Now, he has an idea.

"He would have killed us all." Jamie says, his own voice hinting at the disbelief he feels.

"Then you should have taken your oath to heart." She says and in the know-it-all attitude she seems to carry like a shield recites:

"I offer my services, King Aerys. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New." The Lannister is taken aback for a moment. The only outward sign of his displeasure with her lecture is a balled hand next to him, the leather crunching softly at the pressure.

"Then maybe I should freshen up your memory." He seethes and wants to take a step forward but is held back by Hermione's brother.

"Careful." The Warden of the North growls threateningly. Jamie throws him an arrogant glance.

"And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonour." He recites back. Her reaction isn't satisfying. She only raises an eyebrow and with an annoyed gesture brushes away her wayward curls.

"You don't fool me, Ser." She spits out his title like its taste would poison her.

"And you aren't old enough to understand anything about what I went through serving the Mad King." He yells back and most of the activities around them stop. A flinch warns him that he has gone too far.

"Don't I?" Her voice is heavy, muted. Not at all like the fire he heard in her words, in the way she held herself. Her posture speaks of great loss.

"I…" Jamie begins and hates that this slip of a woman can make him want to take back his words.

"Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, and Warden of the North. Brandon Stark. His oldest son. Heir to Winterfell and deceased betrothed to Catelyn Stark nee Tully." Hermione lets the tear slip from her eye. Not for effect. She doesn't care what he thinks about her. Losing Lyanna though brings back all the other deaths her family had to endure in the last years. Without time to overcome it, to celebrate the lives of the dead. Because war tore them apart.

"I think, Ser, you have to rethink your opinion of me. I know what the Mad King did. To poor souls and my family-" Her voice breaks slightly and Jamie feels Eddard's arm fall away. He throws the Lord of Winterfell a short glance, sees his own sorrow painted across his strong features.

"But you swore an oath. And you betrayed that oath for selfish reasons." Hermione finally ends, her eyes shining with moisture but knowledge.

"I betrayed the oath to save this city." He answers but he knows the Starks can see right through him.

"You killed the Mad King because your father told you to. Because you took a stance in this Gods-awful war after you knew which side would win." Ned replies. He closes in on his sister, pulling her into his side. Turning around slowly he tries to pull her with him but she resists. Something tells her that she can't leave him like this. There is something in his eyes, some vulnerability. Maybe, she thinks and feels terrible for being so patronizing, he can change for the better if she says the right words. Looking to her brother for a moment, she pulls away and approaches Jamie. Her eyes connect with his and softly she speaks:

"I know you are capable of stepping out of the shadows." He tries to see the meaning in her eyes but can't.

"What shadows?" He asks, his voice equally muted.

"Your House's, your upbringing's and most importantly, that of your father."

With that the Starks vanish from the courtyard. Hermione didn't know it, he is aware, that she is taking with her the last shred that clouded Jamie's judgment about what he did.

Kingsslayer.

"My lady?" Joan pulls her out of her thoughts in which her last encounter with the Kingsslayer repeats itself. Hermione prides herself to be a good judge of character. But this last moment. It unsettles her. She doesn't know why.

"Yes, Joan?" Hermione answers, looking up from her hands demurely placed in her lap.

"We're approaching a camp." The servant answers nodding to the open windows of the carriage. Her slight fear is practically laced through her body.

"Which banners?" The Stark girl automatically asks, her whole concentration now at the situation at hand.

The war is over, she reminds herself but can't stop the sudden fear coursing through her veins. It makes her skin itch. Just because they don't fight openly anymore doesn't mean there aren't enemies to the new King. And to House Stark, another part of her knows.

"House Lannister, my Lady." Joan provides her own face pulled into a worried frown. Hermione tries to decide what she should do. House Lannister aren't enemies. She scoffs mentally; not openly at least. Her last encounter though provided her with enough interaction with the lions for a few years to come. Before she can command her entourage to pass by, they are halted. The young Stark can't see by whom, is relieved when she hears the southern drawl of a friendly voice.

Not a minute after one of her guards approaches the carriage, his face taut. Hermione tries to smile encouragingly but fails slightly.

"Lord Tywin wishes to invite you to join him on a meal." The guard states and his eyes tell both women in the carriage that he doesn't want them to leave it.

"Interesting." Hermione mutters, biting her bottom lip in thought. Wiping her hands on her skirt, she moves to open the door.

"My Lady. If something would happen…" The guard seems uncomfortable speaking up, but continues anyway.

"If something might happen, we are outnumbered one to five." Hermione takes a deep breath. She knows that too much curiosity can result in tragedy. Her Septa always said that. But her interest is peaked and she could never stop herself once that happened. She steps out of the carriage anyways, her eyes blinded by the midday sun.

"I don't believe to have ever heard that Tywin Lannister makes bad decisions." She answers her guard and is greeted by a mellow chuckle.

"You heard right." A deep voice answers, his town cultured and not as broad as the accent in the North. When her eyes are accustomed to the sun, she blinks twice. The man before her is stately, to say the least. A bit thin with long legs, short blond hair and beard. His piercing eyes speak of intelligence. Hermione feels she needs to be on her guard around him.

"Lord Lannister." She finally murmurs, remembering her manners and curtsying. A part of her hates that she is forced to do it. But the bigger part - the one that knows strategy and when to back down - is at the forefront and let's her forget at least for the moment, that she despises this man.

"Lady Stark." He greets back and steps forward. Without a thought he places her hand in the crook of his elbow and leads her over to a sun shield placed above soft grass. Below it is a small table decked out with delicate food and a carafe of wine with goblets. Hermione sits down in one of the small chairs. It feels rickety below her, the feet sinking into the soft soil. Out of the corner of her eyes she takes in his entourage - soldiers, probably sell swords as well. The guard's assessment is correct, she notices.

"Excuse us meeting in out of nowhere." Tywin begins and indicates to the goblet in front of her. Hermione shakes her head, her mouth hurting from the forced smile placed on it.

"I thought that maybe we would meet in the Red Keep. I'm on my way to visit my children."

"I'm on my way back to Riverrun. I have no business to attend in King's Landing anymore" She answers, her back ramrod straight. She sees the Lannister nod, his thin lips pressed into a fine line. She can't feel anger though. Only caution. On both of their parts.

"What awaits you in Riverrun?" The older man continues his questions, plucking grapes with slender hands from the bowl between them.

"Mostly? Quiet. And peace." She answers, a rueful smile playing at the corners of her lips. To that the Head of House Lannister nods. The corners of his lips turn up if only slightly as well.

"Curious that a young woman like yourself would be interested in that." He comments, the wave of his hand used to pretend it is just a random observation. Hermione knows better.

"You mean I should let my brother, the Lord of Winterfell, look for a suitable man for me?" She can't help herself from sounding scornful. His deep chuckle vibrates in the air between them.

"It is what most ladies your age would find - what is the word Cersei used… ah, delighting." Tywin muses, but his smile chases a cold rush down her spine. Her hands start to cramp in her lap. Hermione tries to relax a bit, drapes her skirt anew across her knees to hide the notion.

"As my father liked to point out. I'm not like most of the ladies my age." She replies a bit coldly and mentally scolds herself for it. She can't risk a fight here. And she needs to keep her opinions to herself. It doesn't suit a woman to be this outspoken. Not in the eyes of a man like Tywin Lannister.

He really is a lion, she thinks and averts her eyes.

"I can see why he would have said that." Tywin muses, his tone somewhere between acknowledgment and derision. Hermione feels his eyes taking her in, her skin itching wherever his eyes linger. She knows it is probably just her imagination but she can't help it. When the silence stretches too long she already wants to make her excuses. Before she can though, the older man speaks up again.

"If not for a man, what are you looking for far away from the north?" He inquires, his tone neutral again. Hermione swallows and looks up again. Forgetting her manners again, she shrugs with one of her shoulders.

"At first it was for my health. Our Maester suggested it. But I knew it was only Ned trying to save himself from being in the middle of two women arguing too much for his peaceful nature." Mentally she curses herself for blurting something private like this out to him. She recovers quickly, tries to come up with something believable that he wouldn't see as a lie.

"Mostly though, I wanted to study. Riverrun has a good library and I dearly love to read." There. A lie hidden in the truth. The library isn't that good. The Gods know how often she was out of her mind with boredom. Hermione wets her lips.

"How long do you plan to stay in King's Landing, Lord Tywin." She watches him eating another grape, chewing it carefully.

"For a while. As long as it takes to get everything in order." He answers dismissively. His words could mean anything and nothing. Hermione though knows what he means by that: the lion will sink its claws deeper into the deer. She can suppress her worry behind a small smile.

"Well, it seems we both have business to attend to then. Thank you for inviting me, Lord Tywin." The Lannister nods and stands up, pressing a short kiss to the back of her hand.

"It was my pleasure to be in the company of an interesting young lady like you." He replies with practice and Hermione knows that behind those piercing eyes the cogs are turning.

Thanks for reading! Review please.