A Game of Lies

Jaime II

It had been two days since he'd found his mangled son, clinging to life, in the clearing of the Godswood outside Winterfell.

The Maesters were back and forth between Lewyn and Bran, and Jaime never left his side. He soon had Lewyn moved to the chambers the Starks had given him, in his bed, where even though it weren't truly his own, he felt like his son was safe here.

Cersei and the children had come to say goodbye. Myrcella and Tommen cried as they looked upon their cousins mangled and grotesque face. They asked if he would live, like they had for Bran. Even the King himself came to say goodbye to Lewyn. He ruffed his hair gently, bidding him to get better soon, then nodded to Jaime, then thundered out the room. Tyrion came last. He didn't speak, only fixed the hair King Robert had previously messed up and sadly smiled at the boy. When Jaime was sure Tyrion was to cry, Tyrion turned, facing Jaime.

"Goodbye, brother. I'll see you both when you return", he said.

"If you're back by then. You never know, you may choose to take the Black", Jaime said with a weak smile.

"Not in this lifetime, brother", he said, and he left.

Jaime was alone in Winterfell now, with his barely living son. He needed to get Lewyn out of here, but he feared what travel would do to the boy in this sort of state.

He thought again of what the attack must have been like. He wanted to know. He didn't know why But he wanted to know if if son even saw it coming. And why? Why was he even out there? How did they get him all the way to the Godswood?

He suddenly noticed Lewyn was breathing very oddly. He was breathing rapidly, getting louder and louder, as if he was out of breath from running. Running from something.

Jaime reached and grabbed his sons hand, and the boy's body instantly went rigid, and he groaned loudly as if he was experiencing immense pain.

As Jaime let go of his sons hand to run to the door, to call for a Maester, the boy went still, his body no longer tense, but his breathing wild. As he stood in the doorway, he heard the faintest whisper.

"Traitor", it was a wicked voice.

He looked back at his son, and what he saw sent shivers down his spine.

"Lewyn?", he called, as he saw the Maester hurrying as fast the old man could, down the hall.

Lewyn was staring straight at the ceiling, Jaime could see that his eyes were open. As Jaime spoke though, the boy's head turned on the pillow, turning to Jaime. His eyes black as night. The entire eye.

Jaime turned as the Maester entered the room, and he moved from the doorway to let the old man through.

"His eyes!", Jaime yelled as the Maester hurried to the bed.

It took a moment, as the Maester looked at the boy, then stepped to the side, giving Jaime a confused look, his son was lying in the bed as he had, eyes closed, asleep. His breathing calm and steady.

"Ser Jaime", the Maester said, concern in his voice.

"Ser Jaime, you must get some rest", he spoke softly, walking to Jaime and laying his hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me", Jaime growled, pulling away.

"Please. You must-".

"Leave!", Jaime yelled, and after a moment the old man nodded.

Jaime took his seat beside his son. Maybe he was going mad from loss of sleep. It wasn't but a few minutes later before the men entered the room.

"Ser Jaime", Robb Stark spoke boldly.

Jaime defensively stood.

"As Lord of Winterfell, it is my duty to see to the wellbeing of all our guest. Maester Luwin believes you're suffering from lack of sleep", the boy spoke.

And?", Jaime asked, looking out of the corner of his, spying the sword on the chair a few feet away. He'd kill them all if he had to. Even the old Maester.

"And maybe it's in your best interest, if you allowed Maester Luwin to give you a bit of Essence of Nightshade".

"Have you stormed in on your mother, demanding she take Essence of Nightshsde? Or isit simply in your best interest, Lord Stark, for me to be impaired?", Jaime asked accusingly.

"And why would I be interested in that, Ser Jaime?", the boy said, seemingly genuinely confused.

Jaime became silent. They wanted him to confess here any now to pushing Bran. That's why they needed four other men besides the Stark boy, to seize him. But he wouldn't let that plan succeed.

I have reason to believe you Starks were involved in my sons attack", Jaime spoke. A few of the men laughed, but Robb looked offended, almost angry.

"And why would we attack your boy, Ser Jaime, a friend of my brother who also lay fighting for his own life?", Robb spat, crossing his arms.

"The man is not thinking in his right mind, Lord Stark", the Maester spoke to Robb.

Robb's arms dropped, and he eyed the Maester, then turned, nodding to the men behind him, and they ran forward. They had Jaime before he could even make a run for the sword. He cursed himself for not having it on him.

The men dragged him down to the ground, holding him there as he fought, and they began prying his mouth open, holding his head back. He saw the Maester approaching, a small vile in his hand.

He'd bit one of their hands, whom quickly pulled away, but was instantly replaced with another. The Maester came forward, dropping just a small amount from the vile into his mouth. It wasn't long before the sleep took over.