Chapter Seven – The Wall

Jaehaerys

In the morning after their arrival, Jae woke up early as was his habit. The sun had not yet appeared over the horizon and the partly clouded sky was painted in beautiful shades of bronze and yellow. After seeing to his duties as Jaime's squire, Jae took a moment to observe the new recruits of the Night's Watch on the training grounds. They had just gathered to commence their training on the frozen ground. Coarse sand had been spread out to provide some traction on the otherwise slippery surface.

From what he'd been told they were farmers' sons who had fallen on hard times, orphans driven to thievery, drunkards, disgraced guards and soldiers; all kinds of people with either rotten luck in life, or poor decision-making skills.

All of these were mixed with the rare volunteer who saw no other place for himself in life than by taking the black; perhaps a third son like Ser Waymar Royce to whom he had been briefly introduced the day before, or some nameless bastard with nowhere else to go.

Whatever their background, they all stood together now as equals of sorts. That was the good part, Jae supposed as he watched them line up for drills now that the sun had finally revealed itself. The less pleasant part was that most of them were there on pain of death. While for some of them the Night's Watch meant a fresh start; a chance to gain some honor in this life. Others were probably irredeemable; indeed the dregs of the seven kingdoms.

Many of them sported deep looks of concentration as they tried to learn the art of sword fighting. Jae watched as they went through some basic foot drills in the cold morning. It was obvious that some of them had never done anything like it before; barely able to remain standing upright as they practiced their footwork. He felt some pity for the master-at-arms of the Night's Watch, one Ser Endrew. A Tarth, if he recalled correctly.

"Watch your back foot, I keep telling ya. That's right, good. No! You cannot move quickly unless you keep them knees a little bent. Seven hells, not so stiff! Makes you look like you've got a sword shoved up your bunghole. Now, watch me!" The words were sometimes harsh, but no harsher than Jae had heard many times before. In fact, the master-at-arms seemed to instruct with the patience of a septon, though interlaced with a good dose of frustration given what he had to work with.

Meanwhile, a couple of men stood on the sidelines and laughed at the pitiful efforts of their untrained soon-to-be brothers. Fools, Jae thought. How can they stand together as brothers if they are so openly disdainful of each other?

Ghost, who had followed Jae faithfully this morning, was the first to turn around and spot Grey Wind and Shadow, and by his sudden movement announced their presence to Jae.

"It's a pitiful sight, is it not?" Robb remarked casually as he and Uncle Brandon joined him as he stood there watching the drills. Brandon yawned slightly without bothering to cover his mouth with his hand, showing that he had yet to shake off last night's sleep. Jae was almost surprised to see him up this early as they had been on the road for weeks and they all had longed for the beds the Night's Watch had provided them with, however hard and simple.

He nodded to Robb in response, but said nothing.

"Ser Jaime isn't up yet?" his uncle asked.

"Still sleeping. He stood guard outside my door all night. The Watch holds plenty of people sentenced here by my father, and Jaime thinks some of them might still carry a grudge." He shrugged, as if it to signal that it was of no consequence.

Brandon grunted something inaudible at that.

"You have Ghost though. I can't see what better guard you could possibly have," Robb added as he idly stroked his own Grey Wind over the ears. The direwolf stood there and endured his administrations patiently; his open mouth revealed a large, wet tongue perched between his sharp predator teeth. Shadow still towered over Ghost and Grey Wind, but the differences were noticeably smaller than they were even when they had left Winterfell. Roaming the lands of the north seemed to do them a lot of good.

Jae nodded at that as he threw Ghost a fond look. The white direwolf's red eyes looked almost amused when they met his, but Jae was sure he must have imagined it. "Aye, and the Old Gods are watching me through Ghost's eyes so I'm perfectly safe. At least if you were to ask grandfather," he replied with a smirk.

Brandon laughed softly at that, but Robb looked like he first was going to protest, yet thought better of it. Robb had been more open to Lord Stark's ideas than the rest of them. Jae preferred to joke and laugh at these things, regardless of whether they were true. Wasn't it enough to be this Prince who was promised that I have to be some kind of chosen one of the Old Gods too?, he thought sourly.

"How about we go see the top of the Wall, lads?" Brandon asked. "Trust me, there's nothing quite like it." They quickly agreed and began to make their way to the cage that would lift them all up hundreds of feet above the ground, with their direwolves in tow.

Jae felt strangely drawn to the Wall and what lay beyond. It tugged at him in a manner that he didn't fully understand; with subtle threads that he could barely perceive, but could not shake off either. It was like something that he could only get a glimpse of in the corner of his eye, but when he turns to look straight at it, it immediately vanishes. The thought filled him with a strange sense of foreboding.

But all thoughts fled as they finally reached the top of the Wall. The sight Jae beheld took his breath away. Down below he could see the vast lands where his father's dominion well and truly ended; where anarchy and lawlessness held sway. They didn't look remarkably different from what lay behind them, although not too far away from the Wall he saw deep, thick and dark forests that appeared to stretch out endlessly ahead of them.

"It's quite something, eh?" Brandon spoke softly, as if raising his voice too much would ruin the moment.

"By the Gods," Robb whispered in agreement. He grabbed on to Jae as if to steady himself even though they were several paces away from the edge. Jae felt no such need; heights had never bothered him at all.

"Can't wait to tell Dany about it," he finally said absentmindedly. "And my sisters too, of course," he hastily added.

Brandon gave him a knowing look and he felt his cheeks burn at the slip of his tongue. He wasn't even sure why he had said it and in truth he preferred to not think too hard on it. Although he couldn't prevent the image of her long silver hair, or soft purple eyes from appearing before his inner eye. Or the way she laughed when he tried to be witty or how warm and soft her skin was when she would throw her arms around him and give him a hug. She was always an affectionate one.

Jae forced the thoughts away, something he found harder and harder to do lately. He supposed he just missed her more as time passed. That had to be it.

"I bet Lyarra would have loved to see it as well," he added as he gave Robb a teasing smile.

"She would." Robb agreed before his eyes quickly darted towards Brandon as if merely speaking of his betrothed was somehow inappropriate.

Their uncle just laughed at that. "Perhaps you can take her after the wedding?"

This time it was Robb's cheeks that went red, but fortunately no one said anything more on the subject, preferring to take in the immense, white-clad lands in front of them in silence.

As they stood there Jae felt a strong gust of cold wind hit his face. The wind seemed a lot stronger up on the Wall and it didn't take long before the cold started to get to him. He made no sign of wanting to turn back though. Instead he pondered the dilemma that was before him.

He had met his great-uncle yesterday, but hadn't had a chance to truly speak with him. This was now his main mission for the day, but he still wasn't sure if Maester Aemon could be trusted to keep his secrets. To keep my secrets even from father, if need be. But perhaps most importantly was to keep them from the Citadel.

Aunt Barbrey had never really hid her distrust for the gray rats, as she called them, he recalled. Uncle Brandon had always thought she was exaggerating, but she had always sharply retorted that he didn't use his head and thought it through properly. For in the truth, the Maesters knew virtually every lord's darkest secrets and no one knew if they were truly loyal or had their own agenda. Aunt Barbrey had especially expressed her dislike for the former Maester Walys, but Jae never quite understood why.

Walys had apparently died mysteriously many years ago. From what he heard, Winterfell's Maester had been at bitter man in the end, deeply disappointed by Lord Rickard's change of heart. Their arguments had become legend, where the Maester wanted progress; which really meant for the north to emulate the south, Lord Stark had come to view the south as a bad influence.

When they eventually had their fill of the wondrous view they quietly began to make their way back to the cage, nodding at a Brother whom they passed.

Jae's own father was certainly convinced that at least some of the Maesters had an agenda of eradicating magic; of ending the Valyrian blood, which made them their enemies. In that the king was of the same mind as his own chosen Grand Maester, Marwyn, also known as the Mage.

After Pycelle's duplicity had been revealed, his father had been in a position to make demands. The king had travelled to Oldtown and brought back an Archmaester of his own choosing, while the Maesters' protests fell on deaf and unsympathetic ears. Why father hadn't done more if he was convinced that the Maesters were working against his family, Jae did not know, but he figured there must be a plan of some sorts. He also wondered why Maester Aemon hadn't been recalled from the Wall, but perhaps he hadn't wanted to.

It seemed crazy not to trust in a Targaryen Maester, of his own blood, even though Aemon had renounced his family name when he joined the order of Maesters. But if Jae revealed sensitive information he wasn't certain that it would not be passed on to the Citadel, perhaps unwittingly or even with the best of intentions. Or to father.

As they reached the cage, Jae nodded at another Brother who manned the surely thankless job and began their slow ascent. He hadn't yet told his father about the dragon egg and wasn't sure if he wanted to. Father expects too much from me as it is, without adding the prospect of bringing back the dragons to the list. Or perhaps it was already on it, he thought ruefully.

Every letter from his father contained references to prophecies. Jae now finally understood the Ice and Fire references his father had made ever since Jae was a small boy. Stark and Targaryen. But what it truly meant was a whole other matter.

Father had always encouraged him to embrace his Stark heritage, but always remember that he was a Dragon first and foremost. This had been repeated endlessly in his letters since Jae arrived at Winterfell. The king always asked about Ghost; always wanted to know if Jae dreamt of being a wolf, or if any of the other Stark children did. While Robb and he had spoken in hushed whispers about such dreams, about the thrill of the hunt and the vivid memories that remained beyond waking, he did not wish to reveal something to anyone when he didn't understand it himself.

It frightened him at times.

Once they reached the ground again the direwolves took off to the gods knew where. Jae supposed it was time for them to hunt again. Or perhaps they just wanted to play, he thought as he watched them run away.

He took his leave from Robb and his uncle and started to head back to his chamber. He would need to speak to Maester Aemon first before he could decide on his trustworthiness.

"Corn, corn." The old black raven sat perched on Lord Mormont's shoulder despite being fairly large as far as ravens went. "Corn, corn, prince." It said as Jae approached, causing the Old Bear to turn around from where he sat with Maester Aemon and spot Jae.

"My prince, once again I want to express what an honor it is to host you here. How can I be of service?"

"I'm grateful, my lord." Jae replied as he approached the older men. Maester Aemon seemed to turn and stare at him with his unseeing eyes. Or perhaps he was merely listening. "In truth, I was looking for my great-uncle, but now I might as well ask if there is any news of Uncle Benjen?"

"None, I'm afraid. But fear not, your uncle is our most experienced ranger and with that huge beast Moonlight by his side, I think he shall be fine." The Lord Commander motioned to a chair at the table and Jae sat down gratefully.

At this point Maester Aemon suddenly cleared his throat, before he spoke softly. "Strange business this, that the Starks should find such close companionship with their direwolves. Even after all these years I still find it strange."

Jae didn't quite know what, but felt he needed to say something. "Aye."

"Wolves!" the raven exclaimed suddenly from its place on Lord Mormont's shoulder. "Wolves!"

"And we've heard of the recent litter; one pup for each Stark child." The Maester continued in his frail voice.

And for me, Jae thought but refrained from speaking out loud.

"And then you, my young dragon." Maester Aemon's voice seemed to drift off, as if he had been consumed by the deepest thoughts.

"Aye, the gods are pleased with Lord Stark," the old commander stated almost reverently, although that was no surprise given who he was. It was not for naught that the Mormonts were considered perhaps Winterfell's staunchest bannermen, Jae thought. Well, together with the Manderlys.

"Corn, corn." At that Lord Mormont searched his pockets for some corn, perhaps in a bid to keep the talkative bird quiet for a moment, but gave up. "I shall leave you now, my prince. I'd better see to feeding the bloody bird." With a small bow to Jae and a nod to the Maester, the Lord Commander took his leave.

As often when his thoughts turned to Ghost, Jae experienced a fleeting moment where he could smell trees, animals and even the scent of humans and horses. He had the strangest sensation of feeling the frozen ground beneath his hands and feet; of playful running with his father and brother.

"You can sense him, can you not? Your wolf," Maester Aemon asked quietly. How he had known, Jae did not know. "The First Ranger has told me," his great-uncle added as if in explanation. "He dreams of his direwolf. Dreams that he is his direwolf. Dreams real enough that the taste of blood lingers in his mouth even after waking."

Those were dangerous words. They came perilously close to touching upon the much-feared wargs.

After a moment's hesitation he nodded. Then felt immediately foolish for doing so when his great-uncle was blind. "Aye," he answered barely audibly.

"Fear not, my young wolf-dragon," Maester Aemon smiled at him reassuringly. "Your Father's union with the Starks was fortuitous. We are the blood of Valyria and we do not fear magic, nor do we oppose it even when we do not recognize its manifestation."

Maester Aemon got up and took a few steps over to a bookshelf in the corner of the room. He bent down and started to run his fingers over several leather-bound volumes. "Ah, here it is," he said as he pulled out a large book.

He brought it over and placed it on the table in front of Jae. Maester Aemon began to turn pages rapidly but then stopped and told Jae, "See if you can find the passage that recounts the meeting of Aegon the Conqueror and Torrhen Stark, the last king in the North. It should be there somewhere but I'm afraid I won't be able to point to the exact page."

Jae leaned forward and started to scan the pages. They spoke of the burning of Harrenhal, the Field of Fire and other events of the conquest that he had learned of. He finally got to the right passage, but wondered why. He knew the story well. Everyone did.

Then he saw that this was indeed different.

King Aegon I Targaryen sent a message to King Stark who had gathered his forces across the Trident, saying, "The Gods have brought us here, yours as surely as mine. But let us not stand against one another; let us not shed needless blood when our war is yet to come, lest the Long Night falls upon us without a guardian in the north."

Whereas reports are conflicting, it is generally assumed that this message caught King Stark's interest enough that he did not agree to his bastard brother Brandon Snow's bold plan to assassinate the dragons. Some rumors even say Brandon Snow swore he could bend the dragons to his will, or perhaps die in the attempt, and have them fight each other as well as the Targaryen army, but no explanation for how such would be accomplished was forthcoming.

Perhaps it was an allusion to the purportedly unique magic of the First Men, which allows them to possess the minds of beasts in order to have them do their bidding, yet such phenomenon have not been well-documented and little is known about this so-called warging.

Jae exhaled quickly, not even having realized that he had held his breath. He turned to Maester Aemon, "What is this? Never saw or heard of it before."

"Ah, my young dragon. I would be surprised if you had." His great-uncle's voice was calm and soothing. He gathered the book back to himself and opened the first page, which he showed Jae.

"The Book of Lost Books, by Grand Maester Marwyn, young prince. Truly one of the Citadel's most valuable possessions, yet for all their learning they do not know its worth. Instead they fear it and it was only due to your Father's great influence I was able to receive a copy at all."

"You mean our Marwyn, the Mage, and current Grand Maester?" Jae questioned. "He taught me for years, but never once spoke of this book." Jae said feeling increasingly confused. "If this is so important, why hasn't he?"

"My dear boy, even the Grand Maester cannot disregard the will of the Citadel completely."

Yet when no further explanation was forthcoming, Jae decided to prod a bit more, "Why then do you show me this, great-uncle?"

At this Maester Aemon chuckled softly. "I fear that the Wall is too far away from the Citadel for its influence to so greatly affect my own decisions. I always knew that this was my true place; my destiny. For some the Wall as a prison, but for me it has always represented freedom."

Jae thought he understood. "In other words, you can more or less do whatever you want for as long as you are here?"

Maester Aemon smiled and nodded. "This is what your Father wanted." He paused for a moment before he continued, "And there's more to the book. Grand Maester Marwyn discovered pages from a book of Targaryen lore, thought lost forever. Signs and Portents, by Daenys the Dreamer. Your father was shown these pages when he was but a young man himself."

"And what do they say?" Jae asked curiously, yet hesitantly. He once more felt that sense of foreboding.

"On that day the dragons shall lie down with the wolves. The Prince shall ride forth and bring the fire north. Yet ice shall be in his path; ice runneth through his veins. For his is a song of ice and fire." Maester Aemon recited in High Valyrian with a surprisingly strong voice.

"That is but one passage. Much is cryptic, but such are the ways of prophecy," the old man stated almost apologetically. "There is only one more passage we are confident that we understand; which seems to justify the Conquest, or at least justifies our presence on this continent."

Jae listened as his great-uncle spoke of the Doom of old Valyria and the almost certain darkness to swallow the world if the dragons did not go west. He honestly did not quite know what to believe. It seemed a bit too fantastic a tale, but if there was one place where he could more readily believe it, it was here at the Wall.

The most disturbing part was how both Father and Maester Aemon seemed to place Jae himself at the center of these prophecies, as if his birth had been planned by the gods themselves, hundreds of years ago. The very thought almost made him want to ride off and board the first ship to Essos where he could just forget about it all.

It seemed that Maester Aemon finally noticed his silence, as he refrained from speaking further himself. They sat in silence for a while as Jae tried to process what had been said, but also to find a way to broach the subject he had come here for.

"You do so remind me of your Father, my boy." The Maester finally said softly, once again smiling warmly. "At the same time you're also very different. Of course, I know only of your mother the Queen through your Father and her brother Benjen, but I can see that you surely have a lot of her as well."

Jae had to smile at his words, once again remembering his mother. This time it didn't fill him with sadness, since he knew she was on her way north even now, with his younger sisters in tow.

"Actually, my uncle Ned is the one I'm most often compared to." He chuckled. "My mother has the wolf blood, just like Uncle Brandon. Or so Lord Stark always tells me. But I do not."

Maester Aemon smiled back at that. In the short time Jae had known him he seemed at his happiest when discussing family.

"While I greatly appreciate this visit, dear great nephew, I am also most curious as to your reason for coming."

Jae paused for a long moment before he took a deep breath. He placed his deer skin belt pouch on the table and opened it in front of them. He then reached out and gently took his great-uncle's hand. Maester Aemon willingly let him, curiosity etched on his face.

Just before his great-uncle touched the dragon egg, Jae stopped him and asked, "Can I trust you, Maester Aemon? Will what I reveal to you remain between the two of us?"

"I swear it," came the reply without a hint of hesitation.

Jae slowly nodded to himself, accepting his great-uncle's word, and let Maester Aemon's fingers close on the egg. "Can you feel its pulse?" He whispered.

Maester Aemon seemed to struggle to find his words. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again, several times. "I… I can," he finally managed to say. "Wh… Where… H-How…?"

Jae took another breath. "Lord Stark… he gave it to me before we departed Winterfell. They found it in the Crypts some time after the Dance of Dragons. It must have been laid by Vermax." Jae whispered, although he doubted anyone was around to hear. "Father doesn't know," he added.

"It's a marvel!" Maester Aemon spoke reverently as he held the egg in both hands. "I can feel it's alive! Never have I held an egg so full of life." A single tear appeared and rolled gently down the old man's cheek. A happy tear, Jae thought.

"Aye, it's much stronger now. When I first held it I could barely sense anything. Now there's… almost like a heartbeat." Jae had kept it close, shared his body's heat with the egg, and placed it in fire when no one was there to see. He had even shed his own blood and let it trickle down the scaly shell as if it to feed it of his own life force. At times he thought he was going crazy when he could sense it stirring somehow. But there was no mistaking it now. The egg was alive.

"The crypts must have kept it fresh," Maester Aemon whispered as if trying to solve a mystery. "The cold must have protected it, but also prevented it from hatching. Now it has been awakened. Never have I felt such life in a dragon egg. It used to drive us crazy. We could feel their warmth, but nothing we did would awaken them.

Why, why would they not wake? Fire, blood, nothing worked. Egg tried… gathered all seven remaining eggs, including mine… but the wildfire… eggs destroyed, my family almost gone… Oh, Egg…"

His voice trailed off as he traced his frail hands over the egg, looking like he was trying to feel and memorize every tiny scale in the hard shell. They sat like that, in silence, each of them in deep contemplation.

"What color is it?" Maester Aemon finally asked.

"Red." Jae answered. "Red and a bit of yellow. Like fire."

"My boy, you have lifted this old man's heart. I can only hope that I will live to see it hatch." Maester Aemon looked thoughtful for a moment. "You were meant to have this dragon egg, I have no doubt. You were meant to bring back the dragons." Once again he recited the ominous words by Dany the Dreamer in High Valyrian, "…the Prince shall ride forth and bring the fire north…"

Jae felt his mouth go dry, heart beating fast as the old Maester continued, gripped by enthusiasm.

"The magic is stronger this far north. Yes, the magic is the missing ingredient. But it's stronger here. Strong enough that Direwolves have journeyed south and joined the blood of the Winter Kings. But stronger yet beyond the Wall. Yes, you must travel north and expose the egg to the magic beyond the Wall."

Jae felt his palms were sweaty, his mouth dry like Dornish sand. He knew somehow that the Maester was right, as crazy as it seemed. He could feel it. Yet he worried so, worried that he had gone mad. That he felt and experienced things that simply were not real. That his Father had succumbed to his family's madness for believing in the prophecies, that his great-uncle Aemon was equally mad and remained on the Wall for reasons that only existed in his own head.

"I…" he began but found himself at a loss for words.

"Dear child," Maester Aemon spoke again much more calmly, voice full of warmth. "I do not say this lightly, and neither do would I presume to remove the choice from your hands. The choice is yours. But I believe that your destiny is found beyond these Walls. Whether it is now or later …"

What it was that Maester Aemon had meant to say next Jae never learned, as suddenly there was a loud blast of a horn. When no second blast followed, Jae knew what it meant. The sound of a ranger returning. Uncle Benjen.

Jaime

I hate the north, Jaime thought mournfully as he stuck his gloved hands in his armpits in the hope of regaining some warmth in his frozen fingers. And this they call summer.

He stood in the courtyard as he watched what amounted to yet another Stark reunion. Benjen Stark was the very image of his brothers and the Queen Lyanna. The same dark brown hair and beard, the same long face. A large black wolf pelt hung from his shoulders and as a man of the Night's Watch he wore all black leather, just like the Prince.

Prince Jaehaerys shared the Stark look too, but with his Valyrian features the Starks looked like rough-hewn replicas of a masterfully carved statue.

They all did. Even he, he reluctantly admitted to himself. He had always prided himself on his good looks, but next to the Targaryens he felt as if he was a common peasant, no different from other smallfolk.

Even Cersei had been smitten by Rhaegar, he recalled sourly, as much good as it had done the current Lady Lefford. She denied it, said it was political; that she only had the good of the family in mind. By marrying the Crown Prince, Cersei and he would be able to be together. But he had nevertheless noticed how her cheeks flushed in Rhaegar's presence, and how her breath seemed to quicken when he was near.

She had called him stupid for pointing it out, said he was simply jealous and that he, Jaime, was all she ever wanted. Until that one time when she had slipped and moaned Rhaegar's name when Jaime pleasured her.

That was the last time they had lain together. An unbridgeable chasm had opened up between them. Even after all these years, Jaime still felt betrayed.

Jaime observed as Benjen embraced Prince Jaehaerys and ruffled his hair affectionately. When the Prince protested that he was a bit old for that, Benjen only laughed.

"Never got to do it when you were a kid, but don't worry, I won't do it again."

The older Direwolves seemed to have a reunion of their own. Moonlight, Benjen's wolf, was as large as Shadow, but where the latter was all black, the former was all charcoal. The wolves tumbled around and play-bit each other, their joy at being reunited apparent to all.

Soon Grey Wind joined them in their rough and tumble, but Ghost just sat on his hind legs, silent as ever, content with merely watching the others play. What a strange wolf he is, Jaime thought. Then wondered when and how he had become so knowledgeable of wolves that he even had an opinion.

"My mother and younger sisters are on their way to Winterfell, uncle." Jaime heard Jae say.

"Truly?" Benjen exclaimed excitedly. Of all her brothers, the Queen had always seemed the closest to Benjen. He didn't doubt that theirs would be a most heartfelt reunion. Jaime recalled that she had even tried to convince him to join the Kingsguard instead of the Night's Watch, but Benjen had insisted that his place was on the Wall, that the Starks needed to lead by example.

"Truly, Uncle." Jae smiled back, seemingly taken aback by his uncle's exuberance.

Jaime thought that he could never fully understand the Starks or their sense of honor. His own Lord Father would have fainted if a Lannister voluntarily joined the Night's Watch, much less a son of the main branch. Although he probably wouldn't object too hard if Tyrion decided to join.

But the Starks had apparently sent sons to serve for generations. Likewise, the Lord Commander Jeor Mormont was another example of the northern sense of honor. Who would voluntarily end his days in this miserable place?

As if to emphasize his words, he stamped his feet on the frozen ground in an attempt to get his blood circulating again. This had the unforeseen effect however of reminding the others of his presence.

"Uncle, this is Ser Jaime Lannister, of the Kingsguard." Jae introduced him.

Benjen seemed to look him up and down critically, before he chuckled. "I think this Southron knight wishes to return inside to the hearths of Castle Black."

Before Jaime could come up with a retort, as he wasn't quite sure if he had been insulted or not, Benjen spoke again as he held out his hand, "Well met, Ser. I hope you are willing to regale me with stories of my royal nephew, the more embarrassing the better!"

Jaime accepted Benjen's hand. "I could never be so bold as to mention the time when the Prince barged in on Princess Daenerys in the bath, or how much more quickly he ran out again, as if a pack of hellhounds were hot on his heels. It would be most unseemly of a knight sworn to his service to do so."

Well, he wasn't really supposed to tell that story, but it had slipped out anyway. Everyone seemed to find it very amusing, even Ghost had his tongue out and jaws open in what resembled a grin, but he heard Prince Jaehaerys mutter under his breath, "I'll get you for that, you mangy lion."

But Jaime wasn't overly worried so he smiled at his squire cheekily. "I have sworn to keep my King's secrets. But with the Seven's blessings I shall be able to tell yours for many years to come."

"Not only a Lannister pays his debts, Ser." Prince Jaehaerys announced almost absently. "Fire and blood, Ser Jaime. Remember that. Fire and blood."

But Jaime could tell the Prince's heart wasn't really in it as he put no real effort into his comebacks. He idly wondered what weighed so heavily on his charge's mind that he couldn't even muster the effort for a half-decent insult.

He looked around and saw that even Lord Brandon and Robb were a bit confused by the Prince's lack of a proper response, as it was very much unlike him.

Whatever this latest brooding is about, it must be serious if the Prince can't snap out of it even when he meets his uncle for the first time.

And that thought was worrisome. If a problem held a sword, or any other type of weapon, then Jaime could help by slaying it. For all other things, he felt quite useless.

A/N: It's been a while, but I won't bore you with my excuses.

I hope and think that the next chapter will come sooner.

In the meanwhile we can all "enjoy" the train-wreck that is Season 8 of GoT.

Once again, thank you to all who reviewed.