First ASOIAF fanfiction, but it's a long time coming. I'm a huge fan of the books and movies, and I certainly hope to be writing more fanfics in the future.
Just a note. This is an AU, and I'm switching around the timeline a small bit. In A Storm of Swords, Jaime returns to Kings Landing soon after Joffrey's Wedding, but I'm having him return to the capital much earlier, soon after the Lannisters discover the Tyrell plot to marry Sansa to Willas Tyrell. Jaime still only has one hand, though.
Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones.
"Ser Jaime Lannister."
King Joffrey's voice cut through the throne room like a blade. Clearly he's feeling his oats as king. Jaime turned and bowed before the Iron Throne.
"Yes Your Grace?"
"You may remove your helm."
Jaime he clumsily swept the white helm from his head. It was an odd request. Kingsguards were not meant to be seen as individuals.
"We are gladdened at your return, Ser Uncle," said Joffrey. "And we will make sure that Vargo Hoat and the Starks pay for the wrongs they have done to you."
"I am happy to hear that," Jaime replied. Why was this worth a summons?
"But I fear that the wrongs they have done you have been too great, Lord Commander."
Jaime stood stiffly, ignoring the phantom pain in his lost sword hand. This couldn't be anything good. The condescending tone in his son's voice made certain of that.
"After all," the King continued, "A Kingsguard with one arm is hardly fit to defend a King."
And there it is.
"That's not true," Jaime retorted sharply. The entire court's eyes were drawn to his haggard face as he spoke. "There have been instances of past Kingsguards serving the throne even in injury and worse."
"Perhaps in peace, Ser Jaime," said his bastard son. "But this is war, and that was your sword hand. I have need of warriors now, not cripples."
Jaime flushed red as he glared at the man standing next to the throne. His lord father, Tywin Lannister. His father's cool green eyes stared back into his; the golden flecks held a hint of warning.
"But you have served the realm well, Uncle," said King Joffrey, emphasizing the last word. "The Hand has spoken to the High Septon to release you from your vows. I give you leave to resume your former duties as Heir to Casterly Rock."
"Your Grace-"
"That is all. Go in peace, Ser Uncle."
I spit on your pity, Barristan the Bold had once said to Joffrey I. But Barristan had two arms, and it was not his own family passing judgment on him.
"Thank you, your Grace," Jaime replied as he let his sword clatter to the ground. He walked stiffly out of the throne room, ignoring the following eyes and the jabbing pain in his lost hand.
"Well, we have something in common, dear brother," said Tyrion Lannister.
"We're both slaves to Father's whims?" Jaime asked as he drained his chalice of wine.
"I wouldn't have put it like that, but yes," replied his brother. "And we've both lost something thanks to him. Your position in the Guard, my handship... my succession to Casterly Rock... For a man who's so concerned with our family's status and legacy, he certainly likes to deprive his sons of them."
"And body parts as well," said Jaime. "He hired Vargo Hoat and his Bloody Mummers, and now you tell me that Mandon Moore cut your nose off."
"I doubt that father ordered your fellow Guard to do that. Our sweet sister on the other hand..."
"Cersei?" Jaime was appalled. "You can't be serious. She may dislike you, yes, but resorting to kinslaying?" His sweet sister was many things, but spilling family blood seemed beyond her
Tyrion sighed. " I had been undermining her the entire time I served as Hand. She threatened vengeance on me for marrying Myrcella off to the Martells, and she thought that I deliberately meant to get Joffrey killed when Stannis attacked. The only other person it could be is Joffrey."
"Or Littlefinger," Jaime pointed out. "Or Varys."
"Littlefinger was with Father and the Tyrells," said Tyrion. "And Varys...well...Varys was a great help to me during my short reign."
"I wouldn't trust Littlefinger an inch," said Jaime. "He may have given him orders to carry out before he left for Bitterbridge. And isn't House Moore near the Fingers?"
Tyrion pursed his lips. "True... Curious and curiouser..."
A sharp rap on Jaime's door caught their attention. They both immediately recognized its style
"Enter," Jaime called as he rose from his chair. The door swung open to reveal Tywin Lannister.
"What are you doing here?" Tywin asked his youngest son.
"Enjoying some brotherly bonding time," Tyrion quipped as he heaved his short frame off the table upon which he sat. "And bemoaning my loss."
"I never would have given you Casterly Rock," his father said sternly. "Of that, you can be quite assured."
"I was actually speaking of my nose," Tyrion replied. "But yes, I do regret that too. Now I can just whittle my days in King's Landing...doing nothing...
"Not nothing," Tywin said, his green eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Oh are you putting me in charge of the drains and cisterns again? I did a good job of them back at the Rock."
"Don't think the thought hasn't crossed my mind," the Hand retorted. "No. You will be replacing Baelish as Master of Coin."
Tyrion's smile was full of bitterness. "Am I supposed to invent gold out of thin air like Littlefinger did? The smallfolk say that dwarfs have a touch of magic, but I confess that alchemy is beyond me."
Tywin was not amused. "You come from the richest family in the Seven Kingdoms. The Tyrells are the second. I'm certain you can figure out something."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence. Good day father...brother..."
Tywin closed the door behind his youngest son as he waddled out of the Lord Commander's chambers. He stalked over to the table and moved Jaime's chalice out of the way
"You're turning into Tyrion," he said flatly. "I never thought you would drown your sorrows in your cups."
"I think I deserve to," Jaime retorted. He waggled his stump for good measure. "I've lost everything who I was, thanks to mine own family."
"None of us cut off your hand," his father replied. "And King Joffrey has returned you to your rightful place at Casterly Rock."
"It is not what I wanted," Jaime replied. "Why not ask me first?"
"Because you would have refused. Because you're so concerned with the sheep's opinions of your honor that you would rather toil away as a bodyguard instead of doing your born duty."
Jaime opened his mouth in reply, but his father cut across it.
"You had best pack your things for the new Lord Commander," he said. "You will leave for Casterly Rock in four days' time to serve as castellan while I do my duties here."
"The new Lord Commander?" Jaime said mockingly. "Who did you choose, Balon Swann? He's the only halfway decent Kingsguard left in the city, and he's hardly fit to lead."
"If you hadn't thrown a tantrum at the court, you would have heard the rest of your nephew's speech," Tywin replied. "Loras Tyrell will be the new Lord Commander, in honor of his actions at the Blackwater."
Jaime scoffed. "A green boy of seventeen? A boy who was fucking Renly Baratheon just a month ago?"
"Would you rather Balon Swann be Lord Commander?" Tywin asked. Jaime glowered at his father.
"What other gifts have you given to the Tyrells?" He asked.
"Mace Tyrell will be Master of Laws, and Paxter Redwyne the Master of Ships."
"Oh? Are we going to give Uncle Kevan nothing then? I was under the impression that being a Lannister meant something to you."
"Hold your tongue!" Tywin snapped. "My brother and Garlan Tyrell will lead armies to take Storms End and Dragonstone. You on the other hand, will take the fight to Robb Stark. I trust losing your hand has not made you incapable of commanding a battle?"
Jaime paled. "I promised Lady Catelyn that I would not take up arms against House Tully or House Stark. That was part of the terms of my release."
"Worried about honor again?" Tywin said maliciously. "As I said before, your honor is nothing, so quit trying to get it back, and start acting like a true leader. Even the bloody Tullys have "Family" before "Honor" in their words!"
Jaime lowered his eyes. His cauterized limb was beginning to pain again. To his relief, his father began to walk toward the closed door
"One last thing," Tywin said, as he quickly turned around. "We will need to discuss your marriage."
There's only one woman I wish to marry Jaime thought, but he wasn't foolish enough to say so.
"Oh? You're not planning to marry me to Lysa Tully again I hope?"
"A woman with multiple miscarriages and a sickly son? Hardly. No, you must marry someone young, and someone of a Great House."
"So Arianne Martell then?" asked Jaime.
"Don't be a fool," his father snapped. "As if Doran Martell would marry his heir to House Lannister? We were lucky enough that he married his youngest child to Myrcella. He won't have anything to do with us, other than that, least of all have a Lannister half-blood ruling Sunspear. No. You will be marrying Sansa Stark."
Jaime's jaw dropped open in horror. If his father had never been done to jape, he would've sworn this was one.
"Are you mad, father? You're marrying me off to our hostage? The Young Wolf's sister?"
"Yes," Tywin replied. "Before his departure for the Vale, Baelish informed me that the Tyrells planned to marry Willas to her. She is heir to her brother, if he should fall in battle. In one stroke, the North could be ours."
"As if the North would support our claim." Jaime had to laugh, a sound he knew his father despised. "I promised Lady Catelyn that I would return her daughters to her. Don't give me that line about honor again, Father, this is serious."
"You would have had to have broken your promise anyway," said Tywin. "Arya Stark escaped our men before Ned Stark's execution. She's been missing for months."
Best of luck to her, Jaime thought. Hopefully she was already on her way to Riverrun...but then again with The Mountain's men sacking the Riverlands, she was most likely already dead.
"Sansa Stark will be safe with you in Casterly Rock," said Tywin. "Safer than she's been here, at any rate.
What did that mean?
"But why not Asha Greyjoy? She's heir to her father, now that Theon Greyjoy has fallen at Winterfell."
"Theon Greyjoy is captured, according to Varys," said the Hand. "Asha Greyjoy is thousands of leagues away with her own fleet and her own army. And from what I've heard, she's more like to shove a knife in your belly the first time you fell asleep. No. You will marry Sansa Stark, and you shall do so, before your departure. I've ordered the servants to produce a fine Lannister cloak for you for the wedding"
Tywin swept his gaze around the room one last time before closing the door. When the door closed, he threw the chalice onto the floor, where it shattered satisfyingly.
Gods. He hated his father.
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