The White Lion of Castamere

Chapter I: Exile and Arrival

I. Blurs

It was a blur.

From Kingsguard to Kingslayer, everything in his life could not have prepared him for that day in the throne room. That was the last day he had thought clearly in a long time.

It amused him that in the passing colors and words, there was not a single thank you, not a single affirmation from any of those who were allowed to live because he had acted. Instead, there were looks of disapproval, sneers, all molding together in his lucid memory. The worst of all, however, hovered above the rest. That damned, solemn face of Stark staring at him when he entered the room, passing judgement before the case could be heard. That smug self-satisfied-

"Lord Jaime?"

The question dragged the blurs forward, accelerating them. First it was Cersei's tears, father's embarrassment, Robert's laughter. It was the long and lonely trip away from King's Landing, to the familiar mountains of the West. It was the falling blacks and reds giving way to yellows. All the way through the colors, to this moment, now, in front of the cracked and wrinkly, sun-dried prune of a man in front of him.

His toothy smile seemed to mock him just as much as Ned Stark's perpetual scowl; it was as if this man was in on a joke only told behind Jaime's back- and he could easily enough guess what joke that was. He had heard the names, mostly whispered as he was exiting rooms. Only Robert, clothed in victory, had the audacity to openly mock him, "Kingslayer!" Though Jaime doubted how long the insult would remain behind his back...

"Lord Jaime, we need to review the accounts and affairs."

"Don't allow me to stop you." Jaime responded to the maester, sighing. His thoughts kept drifting to Cersei, but he had to fight them. He knew that if he thought of her, he would think of what the new king was doing with her.

"Would you like to read the review I have in front of you or-"

"You read it." Jaime interrupted. "I am tired from my journey."

Creycis smiled, as if he were in on that joke as well, "Of course, my lord. As Lord of Castamere, your domain stretches along the coast."

"A domain of ruin." Jaime kicked his boots up on the wooden table. He had not changed from his Kingsguard coat and clothing- he saw no real reason too. It was tailored for him and was fairly comfortable, though it would no longer be under that suit of armor any more, he supposed.

"While it is true that the countryside has not exactly recovered from the rebellion, there is still much wealth in these lands, Lord Jaime. But I am getting ahead of myself, may I continue?"

Jaime waived his hand, leaning back in the chair.

"There are three main fortifications, two of which are mostly in ruin. Tarbeck Hall and Castamere have not seen repairs, while Castle Cubeck still stands."

"Obviously." Jaime responded. They were, after all, in the great hall of Castle Cubeck.

Creycis nodded, "Cubeck is a fine castle, and I think it will serve you well. Now, to the villages. While there are several villages scattered across the countryside, I have thought it best to group the various villages together for the purposes of taxation and levies. You will notice in your copy of the ledger they are simply referred to as 'countryside.' While it is no Lannisport, the village of Pickhill is the largest settlement in these lands by far, producing nearly a third of Castamere's taxes and levies. Pickhill also features a small, maritime port, that occasionally will house a portion of the Lannister fleet if necessary. There is a small royal tariff collected at Pickhill's port, but a tax collector from King's Landing will handle that. Currently, there is a small local tariff on the port as well; but we can discuss that at a later point. The burghers of Pickhill have a tradition of self-taxation that you may not be familiar with. Instead of a roof or hearth tax for Pickhill, they wish to pay a monthly sum of their own account. I would recommend your lordship does not change their practice, they will do the work of collecting the taxes, and any disagreements would be settled amongst themselves."

Jaime was too busy staring at a piece of artwork- it was amazing that any art depicting the Castameres was left in these lands- but there it was. Roger Reyne was immediately identifiable due to his crimson red armor, but it seemed as if the extended family was present as well. Honestly, Jaime didn't even know who half the people depicted were, but he assumed they were all Reynes. It was far better to look at them than see the faces of Ned Stark or Robert Baratheon. "Uh huh, of course."

"I will send a raven to Pickhill tonight. Now, while there are a few farms and mills in your lands, the old mill tax has been dormant since the rebellion. That being said, a revival of the mill tax while forgiving the accumulated debt for the dormant period would be a source of revenue and also perhaps endearing to the countryside."

Jaime realized the silence meant Creycis was waiting on him. "Make it so, Creycis."

"Good, my lord. We can move the grain and foodstuffs we receive from those taxes to Pickhill and Lannisport at a cheaper price. I would also think it would be prudent to store some of the food in case of Winter. Remember the words of House Stark-"

"Creycis, if you mention that House in my presence again I'll make sure that you're sent to the Wall so you can be closer to them." Ned's Stark face was all Jaime could see, a judgmental blur.

"Apologies, my lord." Creycis' damn smile returned quickly enough though, "Your father's letter, as you know, expects a timely tax from these lands upon reasonable request. The issue is 'timely' and 'reasonable' are not really defined in his letter," more blurs, Jaime thought,

"and we therefore need to be prepared at any time for a request from our liege. I think it prudent to have golden dragons- er, stags, on hand here in the castle."

To that Jaime perked up somewhat, "We would require a standing levy to defend Cubeck if we store gold here."

"Exactly, my lord. I thought you would be more interested in their training and recruitment. However, such a force would also require more funds which leads me to my final point. The mines underneath Castamere."

"They are exhausted." Jaime replied, being all too familiar with the story of the Reynes.

"It is true that the veins underneath the castle were converted into a subterranean castle for House Reyne. Though flooded, I was able to send a mining group in through an alternative cavern, and they believe there are more gold deposits under Castamere. To drain and expand the mines would be a small price to pay, and would not only fund a standing levy, but would make the Lord of Castamere a wealthy man."

"Do you think I lack wealth, Maester Creycis?"

"No, of course not," Creycis chuckled, "but there is a small difference between your own wealth and the wealth of House Lannister. It could enable you a degree of independence from Casterly Rock."

If he was to be in exile, at least it could be a comfortable exile. "Do it. No more of this Creycis, I grow tired." Thoughts of Cersei in another man's arms could not be kept at bay for long. It was physically exhausting to even combat them from entering his mind.

"Ah of course, just one more thing. I mentioned the local tariff on the port of Pickhill- I believe that it would be prudent to abolish it. There is a Dornish knight, Ser Garin, who has inherited a large amount of Dornish Red. He has sent ravens out to many port towns, requesting aid to transport his wine for sale. If we abolish the tariff, and Ser Garin's shipments are successfully received and sold in Pickhill and beyond, we could establish Castamere as a minor maritime-"

"Enough, Creycis." Jaime rose, and Creycis did likewise, though he was slowed by age. "If it gets you to stop talking, do it. I am retiring for the night."

Before the old man could respond, Jaime had already turned and made his way out of the room.

X

Night time at Castle Cubeck was the loneliest sleep of Jaime's young life.

All their plans had turned to ash: they thought they would be together in King's Landing, but now they were on opposite sides of Westeros. Not only was their distance between them, but another man was now between her legs, and the thought of that alone was probably going to keep him up all night.

Not only was Cersei gone, but Tyrion, Barristan, even his father was absent. He knew that the moment Tywin had secured his release that he was to be isolated and alone.

Was this a hero's reward? Was this his thanks? Loneliness and scorn?

Throwing off the sheets, he made his way over to the window, and leaned his arms on the ledge to take in the cool night air. Though he scanned the countryside, eventually the hills and trees blended into the blurs once more.

He wrestled with the blurs: Cersei's naked form, moaning Robert's name, Ned Stark's stone face, Tywin's disgust. They circled his vision, all taunting him in their own way. He backed away from the ledge, but they followed him into the room. "Kingslayer! Kingslayer!" He tried to think of anything else, but they had him now, alone in his room they were at the height of their power.

Eventually they all began to mold together, and the final image became more and more clear: darkness. From the depths of the maw that had formed out of all the blurs came only a voice,

"Burn them all."

When sleep finally did come, it was restless and short.