Author's Note: Thanks for sticking around!
I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, too.
Little time later, Jaime arranged for a private audience with the Lord Hand. He didn't let him know about the exact reason for the conversation, though Jaime let on that it's an urgent and important matter. Upon Tyrion's suggestion, Jaime went alone, since Brienne is still a person Tywin likely doesn't trust completely. And Jaime was honestly glad for it, knowing his Father and the first meeting with her still fresh in mind, because that means in case his Father says something vile, Brienne isn't exposed to it.
"Father? I have to talk to you," he says as he enters. Tywin sits at his study, surrounded by papers and the odour of ink. His study, at some point, resembles the Iron Throne, really, with him seated right upon it, or in this case, behind it.
"Go ahead," Tywin nods, motioning at Jaime to take a seat, which he does, "I will be straightforward. You and I both know that you don't want me in the Kingsguard but back in Casterly Rock as its Lord."
"Well yes," Tywin replies. That is no secret, really.
"As it seems… your dream may become reality," Jaime goes on.
"What now?" Tywin cocks an eyebrow at him.
"I am willing to step down from my duties to the Kingsguard, to my conditions," Jaime replies. Tywin leans on his elbows, "I'm listening."
Jaime tries his best to hide a small smile. This is like waggling a bone at a hungry dog, or lion, of course.
"I hereby suggest that Brienne of Tarth will become my Lady in Casterly Rock. She comes from a wealthy, prestigious house and is someone trustworthy, and since she bears my child…," Jaime says. At the word 'child' his father's eyes are glued to his. Jaime shrugs his shoulders with his typically smug smile, "It was a long voyage to King's Landing… but yes, she bears my child. I want to know her and our child protected which is why I want her to become my Lady. However, we both wish this not to be made public until after our marriage, already to protect Lady Brienne's honour. I want to spare her any so such comments or glances."
"Of course," Tywin nods.
So far so good.
"Furthermore, I want to take Tyrion and his wife along with us to Casterly Rock," Jaime tells him, making the older man frown at him, "Why?"
"Do I have to say it out loud? Our King enjoys to torture her, so bringing her away from him and his influence is the best we can do, especially since you have interest in her wellbeing insofar you want this marriage to work to secure your ties to the North. If Joffrey continues to torture her, Sansa might take certain steps to fade out of this life, I fear, so… let her come with us to Casterly Rock. I can have an eye on her along with Tyrion. We have the security that nothing happens to her - just as we would be sure that nothing would happen to your ties to the North," Jaime explains.
His father takes a moment of silent contemplation. Jaime tries his best to keep up his smug, self-conscious smile. He knows the plan is sound and pretty attractive for his father, but that man always surprised him, and not always in a positive sense.
"Alright," Tywin puckers his lips. Jaime nods curtly, holding back the sigh of relief that means to escape his lips.
"And if possible, this should take place very soon, already for Lady Brienne's sake," Jaime says.
"I understand," his father agrees.
"Under these conditions, I'm willing to take over Casterly Rock," Jaime replies in a steady voice, honestly starting to feel confident.
"Well, I am not the King…," Tywin grimaces, his voice trailing off. Jaime gets to his feet at once, "But you're Lord Hand and Joffrey is… Joffrey. Make it happen."
"I suppose it'd be good if it remained between us two," Tywin looks at him.
"Yes," his son agrees.
"Then I will try my best to make it happen," Tywin says. "I will let you know as soon as I have… news to tell."
"Good," Jaime nods. "You know where to find me."
The young man leaves the room without another word, and disappears down the next hallway.
In the shadows, something moves away fast, the footsteps echoing thereafter.
Cersei enters Joffrey's chambers without any kind of prelude, walking in on Margaery sitting on his lap, laughing her little laughter over a comment he made.
"Mother," Joffrey curses, obviously annoyed at her intruding his privacy.
"I am sorry to interrupt at this hour, but I need to have a word with my son," Cersei says in her typically stoic but still intimidating tone of voice.
"Can't it wait until later?" Joffrey grunts. "We were quite busy."
"But my sweetest King, if the Queen Mother has some urgent business, then it would be unacceptable to leave her waiting. How about I refresh a bit while you talk to her and then you can finish the tale of the boar your killed with bare hands, hm?" Margaery suggests, getting up from his lap gracefully.
"Fine," Joffrey puckers his lips. Cersei flashes a small fake smile as Margaery passes her by.
"So? What is it?" Joffrey says with a roll of his eyes. Cersei comes closer, "Your grandfather will soon approach you about a certain matter."
"And why is that of concern? And how is it of concern now?" Joffrey looks at her angrily.
"He will tell you that your Uncle Jaime wishes to leave the Kingsguard to become Lord of Casterly Rock," Cersei replies. "And I wanted you to know that before he comes to you."
"What's it to me? He's useless," Joffrey shrugs nonchalantly. "I already let him know numerous times."
"You will not let that happen," Cersei says.
"Why not?" Joffrey looks at her.
"Because he is your uncle?" she replies, to which he only lets out a dry chuckle, "I don't care for what he is. I just know that he's a one-handed man who can't even hold a sword. So he's just useless."
"He will take your plaything away with him, though," Cersei hums, hugging her arms, walking slightly past him to glance out the window.
"What?" Joffrey stares at her, turning slightly in his chair. Cersei smiles to herself, though he doesn't see it, "Sansa Stark, now Lannister. Your Uncle will take her and the dwarf with him to Casterly Rock. Now, do you want to lose your plaything? To the little monster who dared to mock you so often already?"
"Why'd my Uncle ask for that?" Joffrey asks, the anger evident in his voice, his pale wrists clenching tightly.
"I don't know, but you have any chance to prevent that if you intervene fast enough," Cersei tells him. She turns around and puts her hand on his shoulders, leaning closer, "You have any chance to keep your plaything for as long as you wish. You are the King."
"I'm the King, right…," Joffrey nods slowly, chewing on his lower lip.
"It's your decision, of course," Cersei tilts her head, only inches from his.
"Because I'm the King," Joffrey repeats.
"Because you are the King," she agrees. Cersei kisses him on the scalp. "You and no one else."