The Long Winter | Jaime Lannister X Stark OC | GOT/ASOIAF

Not Mine To Tell

At first, Ren had not been quite sure what to do with the direwolf pup that now trailed him around like a furry shadow. It only answered to the name of Crow, though he didn't know what he would have called the thing anyway. Of the seven wolves, four were grey - Grey Wind, Lady, Nymeria and Summer - two were black - Crow and Shaggydog - whilst Jon's wolf, Ghost, was albino white. At the feast the night before, he had fed Crow with scraps under the table, as the small wolf began to grow on him. By the time Ren got into bed, falling asleep with a warm, furry ball at his feet, he had won him over entirely.

Crow darted at his heels now, as Ren went to the yard to train after an early breakfast despite his pounding headache from all the drink last night.

"You can't follow me all day - you'll have to wait over there," He told the wolf, catching sight of Jaime already there. To his surprise, despite being untrained, Crow did not follow him into the yard, rather remained on the edge.

"Of course you've got one as well,"

Jaime seemed to be in a similar delicate state to Ren, judging from his unimpressed look at the direwolf. The training grounds were otherwise empty, most of the castle still at breakfast or in bed. A few servants milled around, but most of them were too busy to pay much more attention than some curious glances

"Don't you like him?" Ren grinned.

"How big does that thing grow? It's near the size of a hunting hound already, and it's only a baby,"

"Bigger than a normal wolf. A pony, I've heard some say,"

Jaime muttered something about 'bloody Starks' under his breath. "If it eats anyone, that's your shit to deal with,"

"You mean I can't accidentally set him on Joffrey?"

The man smirked. "As much as I'd like to say yes, not unless you want to keep your head,"

Their sparring that day was not the best either of them had ever done, with both nursing a hangover, but it was still good enough to be leagues above most men.

"Good," Jaime muttered as Ren deflected a particularly difficult blow.

He had yet to disarm the man, one of the best swords in Westeros - when Jaime fought with his right hand, that was - but he was improving at a considerable rate.

"Stop,"

He backed off at Jaime's order.

"You need to be quicker with that downwards parry or I could open up your stomach before you get the blade down. Try it again,"

This fight was fiercer. He could see Jaime's grin grow as he successfully blocked with the move he'd been lacking in, returning it with one of his own that almost - almost - caught Jaime by surprise. At this the grin was replaced by a smirk and his moves became more ferocious. Ren answered with a quick succession of complicated blows, succeeding in driving Jaime back a few steps before the knight responded in kind, using all the tricks and skills he'd taught Ren with before, which, to both of their satisfaction, Ren knew exactly how to block.

It was hard to tell how long their fight lasted, but it ended as it always did, with Jaime's sword at his throat. It remained there for a few seconds, both of them breathing heavily, before Jaime lowered it.

"Don't let this go to your head," He gave him a sideways look. "But I do believe you're getting quite good at this," He paused. "You could teach Joffrey a thing or ten,"

Joffrey had hated him ever since Ren had shown him up that first day they met.

"Not without him running to his mother and demanding me flogged,"