"Why would we want to go to Tarth?"
Cersei's words split Jaime's ears at the very last word, her condescension evident.
"Tarth?"
She was opening the mail with a gold letter opener. Gold, gold, everything gold with the Lannisters, like this heavy, awkward hand they'd forced onto his stump.
Gold like the hair of their illegitimate children.
"Yes, yes, seems they've finally married off that beast of a maiden of theirs."
Jaime feels his jaw tighten. "Brienne saved my life, if you'll remember, sister."
"Yes, I suppose, though what good it is to me now I can't say, " she says, nonchalantly, and Jaime prepares to be wounded, but he isn't.
He's thinking of Brienne dressed in white, looking out of place, looking unhappy without her armor and sword, married off to some noble who doesn't know an inch of her worth, who can't stand the sight of her.
"I'll go in our stead," he hears himself say, but he hadn't planned to say it. They'd come out of his mouth unbidden, not from his head at all.
Cersei raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Do you have a crush on that beast, Jaime? Going to save her from a loveless marriage?"
Jaime scoffs. "Brienne saved my life. The least I can do is attend her wedding. Besides, Tarth is a good ally."
Cersei is silent for a moment, watching him. Jaime makes no expression, sitting slouched in his chair next to her.
"Very well. Do as you wish. Take a few men with you. You're no good with your left hand."
Jaime scowls at her. He's been growing quite adept with the sword, during his practice with Bronn, but of course Cersei didn't know that, not that she'd care.
She looks back to the letter opener. "Go on. Off to Tarth with you!"
She waves her hand at him, and with that, Jaime leaves to prepare for his journey.