Happy Game of Thrones day! In this chapter, Jaime and Tyrion discuss Nim and the situation in the North and Nim looks for something important to her. Enjoy this chapter in conjunction with the new episode and be sure to review!

Chapter 9: Sentimental Value

"You swear?"

"By the old and new gods."

"Fascinating. I don't believe it."

"Wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't witnessed it. But he almost smiled at the girl."

Two days after the incident with Tywin and Nim, Jaime was dining privately with Tyrion as he didn't want anyone's company except for his brother's. Whenever he felt particularly irritated, he only wanted to see Cersei or Tyrion and since Cersei kept on biting his head off and likely didn't want to hear anything about the low born girl he'd brought home, Tyrion was his only option.

"Must be a new revelation for father." Tyrion said, sipping his wine as he leaned back in his seat. "He's exercising facial expressions that have been dormant for years. I'll bet its exhausting for him."

"Maybe its slowing his mind." Jaime agreed. "And that's why he agreed to take the little thief on as a cup bearer."

"Does he know she's a thief?"

"No." Jaime said. "But I'm sure the girl had sticky fingers before she lost her memory as well. Surely she must have stolen something from him."

"Maybe not. Memories have a way of effecting people's behavior." Tyrion said. "Imagine if we erased Cersei's memory of my birth—"

"She'd still loathe you."

Tyrion set down his wine glass, pretending to look offended. "Why? I'm such a charming individual."

Jaime grinned. His brother always managed to make him smile, even in a state of enormous irritation. In return, Jaime was the only member of their family to not hate him. It was a decent enough trade.

"Cersei loathes most things these days." Tyrion said. "I'd think a loss of memory would do her some good. She's getting more and more hateful by the day."

"I've noticed." Jaime muttered.

"My, is she angry with you too? No one is safe." Tyrion sighed.

"Cersei has been angry with me many times before." Jaime said. "But never for long. This seems different. She's distant."

"You were distant for three years." Tyrion shrugged.

Jaime glared at him. "Not by choice."

"I didn't say it was by choice, but its true." Tyrion said. "And it doesn't matter to Cersei whether you had a choice or not. She doesn't think about these things. Ambiguity is so often lost on her. I know." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Anyhow, what is she specifically mad at you about?"

"Bringing the girl back." Jaime said. "She seems to think that, because the girl was from the slums, I owed her nothing."

"Ah. A classic explanation." Tyrion said. "Won't she be happy to hear that father has made the girl his cup bearer."

"I'd rather not be in the castle when that happens."

"Nor would I." Tyrion said. "But knowing our father, even if he did almost smile, I don't think he took this girl as his cup bearer for no reason."

"Why do you suggest he did it?" Jaime asked.

"You said he pointed out her more formal speech. Its possible he suspects she belongs to some noble house. Maybe he intends to figure out which one."

"He thought he was from the north." Jaime remembered.

"Exactly, and right now, the north is still where father is making his power play. He's killed Robb Stark—or excuse me, Walder Frey has—but he doesn't have a claim to the North." Tyrion shook his head. "He planned to use Sansa Stark but she fled the city during the battle of the black water. They haven't located her yet. The next oldest is Arya Stark but no one has seen her for years. She's probably dead. Not to mention there are still two male heirs to Winterfell. Bran and Rickon Stark. They're not dead as was suspected. Roose Bolton is hunting them as well as trying to find Sansa. We may have one the war, but the North is not secure yet." He leaned forward. "And even if we do find Sansa Stark, the likelihood that Joffery will let her keep her head is exceedingly low."

"The boy is a loose cannon." Jaime murmured. "And so if the girl is the daughter of a northern noble family, what will father do?"

"Use her to turn more northerners to his side of course. Split the north up. Have them kill each other or dishearten them enough to swear loyalty to the crown." Tyrion shrugged. "Its not as helpful as having control of the heir of Winterfell, but its something and that's all we have right now."

It made sense of course. Jaime had always had a mind for the battlefield but politics was never his strong point. Not like his father. He was a master at sword play but the life of a schemer in kings landing had never really appealed to him like it did to the rest of the family. He was not power hungry. He was content with what he had. "Political life suits you brother." He said raising his glass.

"You should have seen me with a golden hand on my chest." Tyrion's smile was lined with melancholy. Since Tywin had become hand of the king, Jaime knew Tyrion had lost much of his influence. It had to be hard for him, to get one taste of glory before falling back down to where he was. At least he was still on the council.

"I'm sure it was magnificent." Jaime said. "You were always more suited to King's Landing than I was. Always more suited to father's standards."

"Suited to father's standards? When is the last time our lord father ever did anything less than loathe me?" Tyrion asked.

"He gave you a position of power." Jaime reminded. "And even if he hates you, you're a lot more like him than Cersei and I. Cersei's not as smart as she think she is… and I just don't care for politics." He shrugged. "I look like a model son, but I'm still a disappointment to him. Especially after three years of imprisonment. He likes a damn slum rat better than he likes me."

"You're home now." Tyrion said seriously. "He'll put you to good use. You'll have a chance to redeem yourself." He shifted. "I had my chance. And every day this place seems more intolerable. Joffery seems closer to taking my head by the day."

"Father would never allow that."

"Father can only keep him on a leash for so long." Tyrion said. "Joffery fears him now but it won't last." He sighed. "No… this is only going to get worse. It will transform into more of a hell hole, one that I won't easily survive."

"You'll be fine."

"I've always admired your confidence in me." Tyrion said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Don't lie, brother." Jaime stood. "You've always thought highly of yourself. Or your mind at least."

"I can't deny that." Tyrion shrugged. "Where are you going?"

"To practice with my sword." Jaime said. "I'm still rusty. And if fighting is the one thing I'm good at, I can't afford to slack off."

"I'll practice the wine drinking then." Tyrion said, pouring himself another goblet. "To keep my skills sharp."

"Excellent." Jaime said.

Nim wanted her long knives back. Even if the job she had placed herself in required no combat, she felt naked without her weapons. They were special to her. A gift from Lantos. What would he say to her if he found her in this den of lions without a weapon?

Well, she wasn't completely without a weapon. She had procured a knife from a drunk guard who was very bad at watching his back. Now that she was donned in clothes suiting a cup bearer, no one questioned her place. They were boy's clothes as cup bearers were traditionally male, but also because Nim refused anything feminine.

She couldn't fully move her arm yet, which was annoying but she was able to serve Tywin when he needed her. She easily fetched him wine or water and, when he needed them, books. Some of these things were heavy with just one arm but Nim was strong for her size, and equally stubborn. She dragged a bucket of water all the way up to the tower of the king even if she had to stop several times for a break. She wouldn't get on Lord Tywin's bad side. She needed him to find out who she was.

She didn't press the issue of her knives with Tywin. She didn't want to seem hostile. But even when a bit of hostility did slip into her tone, he didn't seem to mind. He asked her questions about the north and she seemed rather familiar with many of the houses, sigils and lords. But there was nothing that pointed to who she was.

About a week after her employment, her arm was nearing its full strength and was out of the sling. And more than ever, her fingers itched for her long knives. So it was her lucky day when she ran into the Kingslayer. He had brought her here. Surely he knew where her long knives had ended up.

And she had no quarrel with pressing the issue with him.

"Ser Jaime." She said, stepping into his path. She'd use the formal address but in her mind, she still saw him as Kingslayer. "I have a question."

"Brilliant. And just when I was having a good day." Jaime replied.

"I won't trouble you long." Nim said with icy sweetness. Her words retained a polite tone but a reminder of her skills laced her words. She was still dangerous and he should remember that. "I was just wondering where weapons are stored in this place. It's a bit of a maze."

"Why would I give you access to any deadly objects?" The Kingslayer raised an eyebrow. "That seems like a terrible idea to me. Bad enough that you have hands to slip into pockets."

"I need hands if I'm to serve your father." Nim retorted. "And I didn't intend on stealing any weapons. Only taking back what was mine." She crossed her arms. "The long knives, you must have brought them here with you. Where did they end up? I want them back."

"To kill who?"

"I'm not going to kill anyone. I'm not a murderer." Nim snapped. "If I was, you'd be dead, Kingslayer."

Jaime's hand rested on his sword and Nim paused, closing her mouth. "Careful girl. You're not in the woods anymore. You're in a castle. And this is where I do best. I hold enough authority here to get you killed."

"Are you so weak to insult?"

"I wouldn't test me, lets put it that way." Jaime's hand slipped from the hilt of his sword. Nim followed the movement with her eyes before looking back at him.

"I don't want to kill anyone. I have no grudges here. No reason to kill anyone. But those blades are special to me. They were a gift from my master." Nim gritted her teeth together and had to force the next words from her throat. "Please. If you know where they are… tell me."

Jaime studied her for a long time before he sighed. "Make me regret this and I swear you'll be sorry." He motioned with his hand. "This way."

"Thank you." Nim said, following after him.

"Are you sure my lord father will not miss you while you're gone?" Jaime asked as they walked down the halls. Nim made sure to memorize the route so she'd know where to go.

"Lord Tywin prefers to be alone when he writes letters." Nim said. "He lets me have that time to do as I please. He will not miss me. As long as I return within the hour."

"What did you do to make him think so highly of you?" Jaime wondered aloud.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I can't remember a thing. I really can't." Nim said.

"Perhaps your personality was more agreeable with your memories."

"I find my personality perfectly agreeable. Maybe yours is the problem."

"You give too much lip for a low born girl."

They climbed a long, spiraling stair case. Nim was surprised when they at last reached a door and the man opened it to reveal a large bedroom. She had expected be led to a barracks. "What's this?" she asked warily.

"My quarters. I still had your weapons on me when I returned. They didn't seem suitable for any normal knight. Not right for the barracks. So I put them in here and forgot to do anything else with them." Jaime shrugged. "I think I considered having them melted down."

"Then I would have considered becoming a murderer." Nim said flatly.

"Really." Jaime moved across the room to a closet. He opened it, looking through it. "You place so much worth on two hunks of steel?"

"Like I said, they were a gift." Nim said.

"Sentimentality is wasted on a weapon." Jaime said. "No matter how special, it still ends up in a man's throat at the end of the day, covered in blood." He turned, Nim's long knives in hand. They were unharmed. "All weapons kill."

"Maybe so." Nim said. "But if you'd like a more practical reason, these long knives are of an atypical design and they are made for someone my size. It would be difficult to find more. And I'm used to working with them."

"Fair enough." Jaime passed the weapons over to her. "From this point on, they're your responsibility. You best keep them hidden. If another servant finds them, or anyone, you'll be in trouble. Cub bearers aren't meant to carry swords."

"I can hide them." Nim said evenly. "Though I don't suppose…" she trailed off.

"You don't suppose what?" Jaime asked, raising an eyebrow.

"In my free time, when I have it, I'd like to be able to practice. But I need a safe place. Somewhere discreet where I can fight. I wouldn't want to draw attention. I don't suppose you know of a place." Nim said.

Jaime shrugged. "If I know of the place, its not particularly secret. You'll have to find your own spot, girl."

"Right." Nim sighed. "I guess I shouldn't have counted on you to be too helpful."

"Don't make me regret being helpful at all."

Nim grinned slightly. "Thanks for giving them back to me anyway. I promise they won't end up in your back. Unless you try to kill me."

"Make sure they don't end up in anyone else's back either."

"I'll make an effort." She backed out of his room. "I should return to Lord Tywin and make sure he does not require anything."

With these words she turned and hurried down the steps. At the very least Jaime Lannister could be reasoned with and he didn't take as much offense to her jabs as some nobles might.

He was one of the less dangerous of the vipers in this den, and that was a bit of a discouraging thought.

Nim was very glad to have her weapons back indeed.

So Nim has her weapons back and for now she doesn't plan to use them for any bad purposes. This was a fun chapter because I love writing Tyrion and Jaime. Tell me what you thought in the reviews!

Have a good week!