Jaime's hushed footsteps traversed across the courtyard between Maester Pycelle's apothecary and his own chambers. He had slipped silently into King's Landing, his disheveled appearance disguising his true identity from the guards. Using the shadows cast by the castle, Jaime silently slipped into the Maester's door.

Maester Pycelle gestured to a leather-bound chair in the corner of the room, as he took Jaime's putrid hand and placed it in a clear liquid on the adjacent table. The water began to turn murky as the purulent wounds closed and healed. As the Maester reached into the mixture, Jaime noticed the hand was unnaturally stiff.

Jaime, startled by the sudden transformation, inquired about the stiffness of the hand.

"Ah yes," Pycelle chuckled, "a most inconvenient yet temporary side effect. Worry not."

Although not fully appeased Jaime sat back and watched as the Maester prepared what looked to be the milk of the poppy. It tasted odd, not as he remembered when he had broken his arm as a boy and Pycelle had given him the remedy. He did not, however, question the King's Maester any further.

Soon, however, he realized his initial suspicion was valid as a tingling sensation began to spread through his body. He tried to get up, but his strength failed him, and he collapsed on the floor.

A wicked smile crept over the old man's quivering jowls as he moved with a quickness that defied his age toward Jaime's supine form. The Kingslayer tried to call for help, but words refused to come.

"Ah, I see you are beginning to feel the effects." He chuckled and proceeded to pick Jaime up off the ground and placed him upon a large chest. His weathered hands, shaking with age and excitement, removed Jaime's robes with unexpected skill. Out of the corner of his eye, Jaime watched as the frantic old man scooped the hand from the bowl. As he approached once more, Jaime lost sight of the Maester and felt something wet and cold spread his virtue.

Too stunned to comprehend thought, Jaime felt a small pinch followed by full on entry into his virgin hole where it remained. This can't be happening. Jaime's eyes suddenly shot to the side as the Maester stepped in front of him but yet the sensation remained. Disbelief took hold of his mind at the realization that the sensation had been caused by his own hand.

Before the full range of terror was able to spread across Jaime's features, Maester Pycelle gripped a handful of Jaime's golden hair, crashing his lips into the younger man's and forcefully inserting his old and wanting tongue into warmth of Jamie's mouth. The Kingslayer tried to struggle but his strength failed him. Breaking the kiss, the master walked behind him and removed the hand, and in its place placed himself. As his thrusts increased in speed, the Maester gripped the hand, striking the warm wet cheeks of the younger man as he continued to thrust. After a few more subsequent thrusts, Master Pycelle removed himself and laughed.

"I expect to see you twice a week for similar treatments." Jaime gazed up and smiled. Despite himself, he was looking forward to the weeks to come.