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The sun had barely risen above the horizon as Jaime walked through the courtyard. Most people were still sleeping off the wine they drank the night before. The feast celebrating the Nameday of the king’s brother was a modest one compared to others, but Lord Stannis had gritted his teeth for weeks as he considered the whole thing a waste of gold. Ned Stark convinced Robert to hold only a feast, and not a tournament, to at least partly spare said gold, which only made Stannis grit his teeth even more. Cersei spent long hours talking about how this would affect Stark position within the court, whether this meant Stannis wouldn’t consider him an ally in the future, how Ned was able to control Robert better in the last few months than any other time during his three years as Hand of the King, and how he was becoming more and more dangerous. Jaime cared very little about any of that other than it kept Cersei preoccupied, which meant she had less time for him. He had spent the night with her, and planned to spend the morning the same way, but was unceremoniously sent away at dawn, as staying there would have been suspicious according to his sister.
Now Jaime was heading to his own chambers, still wearing the light tunic from yesterday, with his white cloak draped around his shoulders. This was not the shortest way, but the one with the least chance of running into someone. Beside some guards and servants, this part of the Red Keep was empty, and Jaime didn’t concern himself with their opinions. Let them wonder where he was going or where he came from. Just as he reached the gateway at the other end of the yard, a figure caught his eyes.
Ned Stark was clearly heading somewhere outside the castle. What business does the Hand have at this hour? Stark was without guards – a bold move for someone so prestigious. Was he going to meet someone far away from the ever-watching eyes at the court? Maybe Cersei was right and he did plan to overthrow them and make his own daughter queen. No, Ned loves his daughters far more than that. Cersei could get rather unreasonable about Sansa Stark, ever since the girl had come to her senses and refused to marry Joffrey. As far as Jaime was concerned, it was just common sense for her to keep as far from the little brat as she could, but Cersei saw it as proof of the Starks’ plans to grab power and execute all of those whom they deemed dishonourable. If Jaime told her sister about Ned Stark's early morning walk, he would never hear the end of the possible evil intentions behind it. Maybe he is just meeting with some whore. The idea made Jaime smile and he felt a sudden spark of curiosity. Cersei would have wanted me to find out what he is up to anyway.
***
Ned Stark was a fool and deserved to die. Jaime had been following him through the castle and into the shadows of the Godswood, and Lord Stark was still completely unaware of his presence. If Jaime wanted to kill him, he could have done it a thousand times already, even if he weren’t the best knight in the seven kingdoms. Any man with the common sense of keeping quiet and a good knife would be able to do it. Even Robert, who was quite proud of his fighting skills, had the White Swords following him day and night. Not very trustworthy guards, but guards nevertheless. Lord Stark had his own men for the job, he could have brought along at least one of them. It’s not like he had anything to hide, as he apparently was only here to visit his strange gods. He was kneeling before the great oak tree, murmuring what was possibly a prayer, too quiet for Jaime to hear, his hand softly stroking the bark. It was rather weird to watch. He tried to imagine praying to the Seven in the same manner. Kneeling before the statues and gently stroking the Maiden’s dress or the Knight’s sword seemed equally far away from the mindset which the septons expected from the people. Maybe that’s why the First Men only ever gave the trees faces and not bodies.
Jaime wasn’t sure what he was doing here, leaning against a slim young tree, watching Stark doing nothing interesting whatsoever. The sun rose and filled the forest with green shadows and bright spots of sunlight, which danced on Ned’s grey cloak and white tunic. If Jaime moved his head a little he could pretend that the direwolf on his cloak was quietly moving in the shadows, looking for prey…
“Ser Jaime.” – Ned Stark's voice was as cold as the ice on the Wall, but not as cold as his eyes.
“Lord Stark.” – Jaime smiled and hoped he appeared more unfazed than he actually was, as Stark stood up to face him. You have no right to judge me. – “I hope I didn’t interrupt you.”- this merely earned him an unamused look. - “When I followed you here I was expecting something more exciting. Like a secret lover, or at least some whores. Tell me, Lord Stark, how do you deal with not seeing your wife for almost four years? It must be very frustrating. Or has the Hand of the King just become very good with his hands?”
“I can assure you that His Grace has no interest in me.”
“I wasn’t implying that.” – And I would have been eternally grateful if you hadn’t implied that either. Thinking about Robert fucking literally anyone was just disgusting. – Did you just not understand the joke – Jaime’s grin widened – or perhaps you are feeling guilty?”
Ned was looking at him with the same cold eyes, but his hands clenched into fists. Was it fear or anger, Jaime couldn’t tell. As he stepped closer to Stark he could see how tired the other man looked, his greying brown hair unbrushed and messy, his richly embroidered tunic wrinkled and stained. Not a very proper way for the Hand of the King to appear, and despite Ned seemingly caring little about fashion, he always dressed in a dignified manner. Jaime wondered if he had also spent the night in someone else’s bed. Maybe I will learn a secret about you after all.
“Is that your clothes from last night, or do you always dress this nicely when you come to pray? I hope you were confessing your sins to the gods. Even an honourable man like you has sins, I suppose.”
“What do you want, Lannister?”
Stark seemed like he was about to storm off at any moment, righteously offended, full of honour and dignity, clearly better than anyone else around him. He did this often to end arguments with the king, and then sulked until Robert calmed down and they both conveniently forgot about their fight. Or at least Robert did. As entertaining as watching him flee would be, knowing where he was last night was more important. Jaime preferred to be straightforward, but he doubted Stark would tell him the truth if he simply asked him. Tyrion would know what to say.
“Do men have to touch the tree while praying to the Old Gods, or do you just enjoy stroking it?” – The slight confusion crossing Ned’s face felt like a victory.
“The first men don’t have strict rites as the followers of the Seven do, Ser. I pray to the old gods the way my mother did, and her mother before her.” – Stark's voice was cold and quite as if someone forced him to answer. As if Jaime’s mere presence tainted this sacred place. I have as much right to be here as you.
“The Godswood at Casterly Rock has the greatest weirwood tree down from the Neck. It’s older than everything that grows in this forest.”
Stark didn’t seem to be impressed. - “Is that so.”
“Do you think I’m lying?”
“It’s rare for southern castles to have weirwood trees.” – Ned said, while looking at the great oak with something that could have been mistaken for sadness in his eyes.
Jaime raised to his feet. - “Follow me, Lord Stark.”
***
“How much farther are we going?” – Ned sounded slightly annoyed. He had been following Jaime through the forest in utter silence until now. It was unnerving, but Jaime was too busy trying to find the right way, and too worried that Stark would leave if he goaded him, to actually say something himself. He hadn’t visited the place for 17 years, and as the forest seemed more and more foreign, his confidence began to fade and his determination began to grow. Has this tree always been here?
“Not always but longer than you alive, Ser Jaime.”
Did I say that aloud? He sent a dark look and a sharp smile at Stark. If he had meant to anger Jaime, he succeeded with blatant ease.
“You may lead the way, if you wish, my lord.”
“I would if I knew where we were going.”
Jaime wasn’t sure how to answer that. He didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but had to be careful or Stark might leave. - “What took you so long to ask this? Had to gather your courage?”
“I thought you just wanted to show me something.”
“And now you think I want something else?”
Ned's silence told him enough.
“If I wanted to kill you, Stark, I would have done it while you were busy praying.”
“I wasn’t implying that, Ser.”
Then what were you implying?
“You were not implying anything, my lord. You merely looked at me judgingly in silence.”
“Judgemental.”
“What?”
“Judgingly isn’t a word.”
For a moment they stared at each other in silence. Jaime wondered if the utter bewilderment he felt showed on his face. Did he just correct my grammar?
“... I spent too much time with Stannis.” - Ned said quietly - “Forgive me, Ser.”
If someone had told Jaime that Lord Eddard Stark would ever apologise to him, he would have laughed in their face and told them to drink less.
“I might forgive you if you ... “ - at that moment Jaime finally saw a familiar place - ... follow me. Hurry, Stark, I found it.”
If Ned made a face, or rolled his eyes at him, Jaime hadn’t seen it. Last time he was here, there was a small glade, but since then the sprouts had grown into trees and covered the sky up with bright green leaves. In the middle, under the dancing spots of sunlight, sat a stump. It was pale as bones and greater than any well in the Red Keep.
“It’s what was left of the original weirwood of this Godswood. One of the Targaryen kings had it cut down and burned it on the altar of the Seven to please the High Septon.” Jaime couldn’t for his life remember which king, even though Ser Arthur had definitely told him when they accompanied the prince all those years ago.
Ned Stark kneeled before the stump and stroked the bark gently. “It turned into stone...” - he said quietly, more likely to himself than to Jaime. - “Why did you bring me here?”
The question caught Jaime off guard. What was he thinking bringing Stark here? Showing him a dead tree in the middle of nowhere. At best Ned thinks it is some joke, at worst he thinks it’s a thinly veiled threat. I’m a fool.
“I thought you would have liked it.” - that sounded much more apologetic than Jaime intended. I’m a Lannister from Casterly Rock. I don’t need anyone’s approval. He raised his eyes at Stark in defiance.
Ned gave him a smile reserved only for his daughters and, on rare occasions, for Robert. It made Jaime feel as warm and light headed as the first time he drank wine. When Ned turned his attention back to the stump, a strange pang of jealousy settled in his guts.