Casterly Rock lay beneath the night sky.
Bonfires burned throughout the city, lighting the Wildlings' wild dancing and drunken smiles.
The victors' clamor stood in eerie contrast to the silent gallows along the walls.
Jaime Lannister sat in his room.
Everything in the room remained as it had been.
Yet it felt terrifyingly unfamiliar.
His gleaming golden armor stood nearby, like a hollow mockery.
At sunrise tomorrow, his father, Tywin Lannister, would be flayed and have his sinews torn out.
The news that had leaked out left him unable to think, with only waves of numbing cold washing through him.
He could not let it happen.
Not to save Tywin.
He knew Tywin was beyond saving.
It was for the name "Lannister."
Tywin Lannister could die, could suffer defeat, could even be beheaded.
But he could not be humiliated to death like an animal before the eyes of thousands.
That would grind House Lannister's last shred of dignity to dust.
He rose and took his steel sword from the armor stand.
He would put an end to this himself.
The way a Lannister should.
He stepped out of his room into a corridor thick with the smell of wine and charred roast meat.
Two Wildling guards leaned against the wall, battleaxes cradled in their arms, fast asleep.
To Jaime, all of Casterly Rock was utterly unguarded.
He reached his father's study without anyone stopping him.
Mance Rayder had not thrown Tywin into a dungeon, but left him in the place he knew best.
It was a crueler kind of humiliation.
Two soldiers from the North now guarded the door.
When they saw Jaime, they merely stepped aside in silence.
Everyone knew Lord Lynn now relied heavily on Jaime, so they did not trouble him.
Jaime pushed open the heavy oak