Ser Jamie Lannister
The day had not begun well for the Golden Lions.
Jamie had awoken to his sister's mumblings about their son, evidently she'd not slept the entirety of the night.
Cersei was always a bit overprotective of that boy.
As he ruffled through her golden curls Jamie had thought for an early morning round, but she'd not been in the mood. Instead Cersei had seen herself from his side so soon as she learned his ease in the moment.
He'd tried to stall her by claiming it would bring about good luck, but she knew better than to believe that plea.
"You're the best sword in the Seven Kingdoms,"
"You don't need luck."
Perhaps not, Jamie had thought as he'd lain back into the straw bed they'd shared in the night.
Once finally arisen for the day, Jamie had taken his breakfast with Tyrion.
"So what do you think of your opponent?"
Jamie hadn't really even paid his brother any mind, instead he'd concerned himself solely with filling the appetite Cersei had worked upon him. So instead of answering his younger brother, The White Lion ripped through another slice of salted beef, it seemed to be the only thing they had in Winterfell.
If it was the only thing the Stark's had Jamie wouldn't doubt it, but more likely it was the bare minimum rations they were required to serve for guests who'd broken their sacred rights.
Out of all the men in the Seven Kingdoms, not one could know more about broken oaths than Ser Jamie Lannister.
Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, Man with Soiled Honor.
For the White Lion life had become so grey where once it had been only black and white. The days of knights in songs seemed to have been at an end.
There are no more good men, only lions and meat.
There was a time though, a time when Ser Jamie had believed in becoming greater than himself, and in his brightest hour it had been that righteousness with which he fought.
The King was going to order the death of every man, woman, and child in King's Landing.
Jamie Lannister had done what he thought, knew, was right.
Yet it seemed some people still despised him for it.
The Northerners had been more accepting than any of the other kingdoms though, Perhaps Lord Stark spread the real truth.
It had been to the Warden of the North that Jamie had revealed the Mad King's cache's of wildfire, and the Lord of Winterfell had in turn found the accumulation of such wretched alchemy.
Honorable Lord Stark had heard that Jamie slew the King, yet he only judged him for his protection of the city, and the last remaining Targaryens.
The White Knight had never understood why the other Lords Paramount had never given him such a benefit, It was no surprise that the Lords of the Reach had hated him for his actions, they'd been staunch Targaryen loyalists.
Jamie had not traveled to Dorne since the incident, but surely Elia and Doran have not forgotten.
In the West Jamie was still the hero he'd been since childhood, a golden lion with a white mane.
Yet lords in the Riverlands and Vale had spat at his apparent dishonor,
"Even Ser Brynden..." thought the sixteen year old boy.
"Perhaps they were jealous they'd not been given a chance to kill the king himself," thought the Kingslayer.
Such a moniker might have been revered had it been bestowed upon anyone else, but for a sworn member of the Kingsguard...
"Jamie. Did you hear me?"
"Sorry little brother, I was enjoying our breakfast."
"Rather hard to enjoy. Especially with the lack of wine, but I fear it is all the courtesy we shall be afforded."
"Can't say I blame them."
"Nor can I, but it will only get worse if you slay the Heir to Winterfell."
Tyrion was staring now, his mismatched eyes spoke a truth Jamie had known since he'd walked into the horrid situation. Joffrey may cause the collapse of the Seven Kingdoms.
"What do you think of this Robb Stark?"
"I know nothing about him, he's a boy of seventeen I believe?"
"Jamie, you must have some sort of pl..."
"That's were you're wrong little brother. Having a plan is pointless in a duel, everyone has some idea of how they'd like to fight, but after the first clash of swords. Well everything is in the air."
"So you mean to feel the boy out? Search for any weaknesses?"
"I will do what I must little brother."
"And what will that be Jamie? If you kill the boy then Winterfell might rise against us. They say you are the more martial of us two, so answer me this. If Ned Stark imprisons us in this fortress and calls his banners, revolts against the Iron Throne what should happen?"
"Tyrion, you're being delusional. Ned Stark would ne..."
"Joffrey has violated guest right! The gods should decide the truth of it, but you yourself told me of his guilt. If you'll not consider the event a possibility then humor me."
"Very well, I'll hear what you have to say."
"Thank you. If the North revolts against the South how shall we see to it's submission?"
"Father would see Winterfell burnt to the ground."
Tyrion continued his mismatched stair.
"With us inside? Were you at Duskendale? I've forgotten, regardless Lord Stark would not do such a thing without taking this retinue hostage."
"You're being paranoid." Jamie took a sup of his drink,
"Am I? Think about it strategically, where would an invasion have to come from?" He was hitting a little to close to Jamie's own fears.
"It doesn't matter, besides the North couldn't hold out forever, the combined armies of Westeros..."
"Doesn't matter? Brother have you forgotten father's teachings? The North is vast and its people resourceful. They live and die through winter, and not the mild snows we get at Casterly Rock or in the Capital, these are hard men and we'd be fighting on their turf."
His little brother was starting to sound like their father.
"Only from the Neck could a southern army hope to march into the Stark Lands, they've the crannogmen there, did you see them brother? As we entered and exited the swamp, and all throughout it. Eyes watched our ever move. Any army that hopes to cross that bog would be drained of blood for every inch taken. Not to mention they've made a lordship of Moat Cailin, a fortress so mighty it's never been taken from the South."
"It was little more than a ruin when we passed Tyrion..."
"So it was, but the placement of it would give cause for hesitation on its own. Yet now they mean to have it manned by a Lord, and even if we pass it, whose to say that our supply lines aren't cut off after our crossing? How well equipped could father have his men when he's never seen this land? It will certainly take more than a few blankets."
"Also you would be a fool to count on the entirety of the kingdoms to come for our rescue. The Tyrell's do not love Robert, The Tully's and Arryn's are still wed to the Direwolves, and the Martells will not back us, not even after what you did for them."
It was all true.
"The North is also going to be difficult to assault by sea, White Harbor is the most strategic point of course, but it is strong in defense. The western front could be secured, but the only feasible area to land is now controlled by Lord Stark's younger brother! And how would we traverse the Wolfswood in a timely manner?"
"Tyrion" Jamie interrupted.
"What would you have me do?" He was getting off topic.
"I don't know, Not die I suppose. If you win the North shall be in uproar. Even more so if you kill the boy, but should he lose a hand they'll never forget either."
"That makes sense Tyrion, yet you've given me no reprieve."
His younger brother searched around the room for a moment, trying to draw a conclusion from the madness that surrounded them.
"I'm no swordsman, so I won't tell you how to approach this situation. You must do whatever it take big brother. I just hope you won't fail to take this case serious."
Jamie gave his brightest smile, and as his lips curled he spoke.
"Oh brother, I'm quite renowned for taking things seriously."
Tyrion's frown paralleled Jamie's warm gesture.
"I'm serious, If Robb Stark is half the swordsman his father is then he may be dangerous."
Lord Stark slew Ser Arthur Dayne in single combat. The greatest swordsman who ever lived, defeated by a Northmen.
The Sword of the Morning had been amongst Jamie's greatest heroes, right alongside the Blackfish and Ser Barristan.
Men Knights should aspire to be like. The White Lion had once thought himself capable of becoming such a Legend, but after what he'd done there would be no unanimity about the songs written for him.
"More dangerous than me dear brother?" Jamie flashed another smile at his brother, an attempt to ease both their minds.
Yet Tyrion remained resolute.
"Should you fall, shall it be I who avenges you?" He meant such a statement in earnest, yet Jamie couldn't help but take a laugh.
"That would be quite the sight."
"I'm not entirely kidding. I couldn't bear this world without you or mother."
"Father would be insufferable alone, that much I'll give you. Tyrion no one is going to die..."
That had been the last thing he'd told his little brother before they made way for the courtyard, and until the third fight Jamie had proven himself a wise man.
Ser Boros was unbecoming of a white knight, unworthy even of the his sworn vows, and irredeemable in his cowardice.
He didn't deserve to wear the same cloak as Ser Arthur Dayne.
"You're the one who opened the door for dishonorable men," the ghosts of Jamie's past had told him once in his dreams.
Cersei had questioned his decision for allowing Ser Boros to defend their sons honor, she'd known that should that bout be lost it would mean Joffrey's conviction. Jamie had been fully aware of the consequences but then again,
He also knew the truth of Joffrey's guilt.
When he'd been in bed with Cersei the night prior, right after they'd seen Joffrey to his room, she'd spoken of how to cover up what he'd done.
"How do We clear his good name?"
For the first time in his life, Jamie Lannister had thought to strike his sister.
He doesn't have a good name. Our son is a monster.
Yet he'd not brought himself to do or say such a thing, it would've been outright rejected by his elder sister. She could never give up on one of her cubs.
Just like Mother.
Jamie saw the truth though, Joffrey could not sit the Iron Throne.
He would be no better than Aerys.
If Joffrey sat the throne, and did took the same actions as his father's predecessor would Jamie still take the same recourse?
Could he slay his own son?
Jamie had decided he'd not be a Kinslayer in addition to his regicide.
The trials had always been fated to fail though, Jamie had reasoned in the night. It wasn't like they had many choices, for Boros and Meryn had traveled northward with the King, whilst Barristan and Lewyn had been left in the South.
The best Joffrey had to work with was his uncle Jamie and sworn shield Sandor Clegane.
Yet the Hound was forced to answer for his own crimes, and only a kingsguard could stand as champion for an accused member of the Royal family.
At first his sister had requested Jamie to fight in each of Joffrey's trials, yet he'd reasoned with her that it was more important to see punishments done against the offenders.
"No one will believe the tales about Joffrey, they're too outrageous," he'd said. Many still didn't believe Jamie saved King's Landing.
Now Joffrey is tainted.
So Boros had fought and lost, yet that was to be expected. He was too great a coward to have actually stood a chance in victory, many a squire might have hope in defeating the balding fool.
Lancel had played his part as well, Jamie had never intended for his boy cousin to be maimed in such a degrading way.
If Ned Stark really killed Ser Arthur, could Benjen be a similarly skilled warrior?
It was no secret that all the Stark's were fighters.
Jamie's cousin could not reason how outmatched he'd been, and so the boy had not yielded when given the chance. Instead he fought when no experienced swordsman might have.
Who could blame him? He'd only sworn the vows this morning. Jamie himself had done the dubbing.
And what had his newfound pride cost him?
Jamie could not imagine life without his sword hand.
With Lancel's defeat the innocent girl had been found such, and despite what the cost had been, things unraveled as Jamie had intended.
The Hound had been a different story though,
Had the White Lion been able to enforce his own will, the Steward of Winterfell and younger Clegane brother would've never dueled. Sandor was nearly as much a victim of Joffrey's cruelty as the girl he'd struck.
Yet the Northerners had demanded justice, and in their pursuit had seen the Steward rid of his life.
It had been a gruesome sight.
The trials had not ended though, and instead the King called forth for the next champions.
From the Lannister camp strode forth the red bearded Ser Meryn Trant, a knight known as much for his droopy eyes as his skill with a blade. He had a darker side though, and could've been a dangerous fighter.
But his opponent wasn't a little girl.
Instead from the Stark crowd strode forth the third largest man Ser Jamie had ever seen. At seven foot tall he was quite the sight, but this muscle bound northerner was barrel chested as even the Mountain himself. His sword was nearly so tall as Jamie, and the hands that held them were thicker than any ham he'd dined upon at Casterly Rock.
Greatjon Umber was one of the few men in Westeros who truly stood a chance against Ser Jamie,
The inclusion into such a distinguished roster was not a thing Jamie took lightly,
And Meryn Trant was not on that list.
Robert spoke up so too begin the trial.
"House Poole charges Prince Joffrey Baratheon with assault and besmirching the Honor of Lady Jeyne. Both sides have put forth their claims, and now the Gods shall judge the truth. This trial shall not end until one man submits or perishes upon the field of battle. Do you both understand?"
Ser Meryn lowered his head, whilst the Greatjon stood defiant. Robert had lost Lord Umbers respect. Yet the big man turned to the Lord of Winterfell and nodded his head in the Warden of the North's direction.
Someone from the Lannister camp shouted that the Lord needed to acknowledge before the King.
"I understood what came from his fucking mouth. This isn't the first trial by combat I've been apart of."
Meryn was shacking less than Boros had been, yet he had far more to fear. The Lord of Moat Cailin had mercy in his veins, yet the Lord of Last Hearth would not offer such a way out.
It was death or victory for Ser Meryn Trant. Despite the underlying protest Robert continued.
"Should Prince Joffrey's champion be victorious then all guilt of wrongdoing upon the Lady Jeyne of House Poole shall be forgotten as if it never happened. However should House Poole's champion be victorious none shall bare their tongues to the tales, and due to my close ties with the accused I shall offer one boon should the chance arise."
The same promise he'd offered earlier to the Lord of Moat Cailin,
How did that turn out for Robert?
"Kneel before your king and let the trial commence."
Meryn did as he was bid, but instead the Greatjon turned from the King and assumed his spot away from Jamie's sworn brother.
Both champions stood before drawing blades. Meryn wore pale enameled scale armor, with an pure unemblazoned shield, and the same white cloak that Ser Ryam Redwyne, Ser Corlys Velaryon and Ser Aemon the Dragonknight had.
Opposed to him, the Greatjon wore mundane armor.
Yet the Lord of Last Hearth's plate was thicker and doubtlessly heavier. If Meryn could get the Greatjon tired he may yet stand a chance.
The Knight of Gallows had at his side the Valyrian Steel sword Trust,
And Jamie had done so with Meryn. Same as Boros had done his Duty.
Greatjon Umber drew his longsword and began to speak.
"I hope you've made peace with your frilly gods boy."
He did not give Ser Meryn a chance to verbally retaliate. Instead the Lord of Last Hearth was upon him within the blink of an eye.
Lord Umber went about thrashing the white oakenshield Ser Meryn so perilously held gripped.
"How do you like this you tiny fucker?"
Meryn had turtled behind his shield after the fourth vicious strike, and Greatjon realized such cowardice. He placed a massive kick to Jamie's sworn brother's cover, and from its force Ser Meryn fell to his ass.
Seeing his opponent crumple before him Lord Umber began to bellow, and he turned away from his opponent as a sign of disrespect.
"Is he truly amongst the greatest knights of your Southern Kingdoms? How could this fool be tasked with guarding the King?"
The red bearded knight became enraged at such a slight, and so he charged forth in a vain attempt to subdue his turned opponent.
Yet the Greatjon's ears perked, he knew exactly what the fool would do.
Meryn drew a great downward slash with his valyrian steel sword, but he only cut at the air for Lord Umber side stepped the man. As the Gallows Knight went past the limber Greatjon extended his massive foot outwards, tripping Ser Meryn.
White became further marred with brown as the Trant knight fell onto his helm. The Greatjon once more turned from his opponent, this time he faced the Northern crowd.
"I wouldn't trust him to guard my pantry!" The Lord of Last Hearth sent out a great laughter, and it was echoed by his fellow northmen.
Ser Meryn rolled around in the mud and his shame for only a moment more. Yet he growled with murderous intent, and strode forth more cautiously towards the Greatjon.
"Want some more do ya? Stupid boy."
"I'm No Boy!"
The Gallows Knight drew his sword forth and attempted a sideways slash at the Greatjon's belly, but the Lord of Last Hearth parried almost lazily, yet the Valyrian steel bit into Lord Umber's sword.
His longsword did not snap though, instead the mystic steel buried itself halfway through the blade. Both men gazed upon the shattered mess that rested within their hands.
Meryn tried in vain to see the sword removed from its nontraditional sheath, yet Trust had been sunk deep and true. With horror shinning through his helm the Gallows Knight realized his sole advantage had been claimed. The Greatjon's eyes spoke to his own disposition though.
"You bastard! You've ruined my fucking sword!"
With that deceleration Greatjon pulled the crossed blades towards him with one meaty fist, whilst freeing his other to deliver a massive blow to Ser Meryn's helm. The ring of steel came forth with clear precision. Lord Umber proceeded to land two more devastating strikes before Meryn threw his half splintered shield in front of a mailed fist.
The Greatjon did not yield his onslaught though, instead with a particularly hefty blow, the Lord of Last Hearth punched through the oaken shield. Seeing no other opportunity available to him Ser Meryn desperately bit at the exposed wrist that lied before him.
He tried in vain to bite at the gap between Lord Umber's vanbrace and gauntlet. The Gallows Knight sunk his teeth in but a single time before the Greatjon retaliated.
"Ohhhwww, YOU FUCKING CUNT!"
Greatjon stepped around the shield he'd impaled and delivered a ham fisted left hook upon Ser Meryn's helm. The Gallows Knight fell to a knee from such force.
"I"M GONNA KILL YA YOU WHORE SON!"
The Lord of Last Hearth tore at Ser Jamie's sworn brother's helm until it popped off and revealed a mix of tangled red hair and crimson splattered blood.
Lord Umber then punched downwards towards his opponent, and out from Meryn's mouth came several of his teeth. He knelt low to the ground and Jamie knew his life was soon to be at an end.
No one Had to die. Yet fate had not been so kind as Jamie Lannister.
However the Greatjon did not allow his victim to go in peace, instead he meant to shame him further. Lord Umber returned his gaze to the King's booth, and he dragged his opponent back before His Grace's view.
"I'm not sure he's capable of screaming out his surrender."
"Ser Meryn shall you submit?" asked Robert in an attempt to save his guards life.
The Gallows Knight might've shook his head, but the Greatjon had gripped him tight before such a thing could be done. Instead it was the Lord of Last Hearth who spoke.
"But Your Grace! We aren't finished yet! I've half a mind to throw him from Winterfell's highest wall. Or I could crush his eyeballs in like your Hound done to old Vayon. Regardless of what happens Your Grace know that we Northerners don't take kindly to Southern slights."
With that the Lord of Last Hearth brought Ser Meryn to his feet, upon standing of his own power Greatjon dealt a blow to the knights abdomen. The force from such a strike was severe enough to mar the steel plate of Jamie's sworn brother. His insides must be bouncing around like a barrel of wine.
Jamie heard the gasp for air, then witnessed the conglomeration of teeth and blood come pouring from Ser Meryn lips. This is my fault.
My plan got Ser Meryn killed. No one would weep over his loss though, he'd been a horrid man.
Yet Jamie alone would know the truth.
The Lord of Last Hearth then booted his downed opponent, and the strike returned Meryn to the dirt.
"I'll start thinking about that boon now Your Grace!"
Now the Greajon was merely playing with his downed opponent, for every time that Ser Meryn moved to rise Lord Umber would place a hand or foot to the back of Meryn's neck and force him back down. Once he even sat on the poor man's back.
All the while Meryn tried to force words from his mouth, yet he could not suck in wind fast enough before it was driven from him once more.
Finally he mercifully rolled away from the Lord of Last Hearth, creating enough distance for him to form a breath.
"I..."
He had no time to utter any further wording, for it was that the Greatjon utilized his unexpected quickness to latch meaty fists around the white cloak's paltry neck.
The Lord of Last Hearth lifted Ser Jamie's sworn brother from the ground then, and it was an incredible sight. With both hands The Greatjon lifted a near fully armored man up off the ground, and by his throat no less.
Once upraised Meryn began trying to kick at the Giant's massive legs, yet it proved to be of little consequence. For the Lord of Last Hearth had a death grip upon the unworthy knight, and little would free him from such.
"Don't worry it's all over you miserable shit."
Finally after a horrid moment of struggle Ser Meryn's legs went lax and they dangled lifeless for all to see. It was only after admiring his work for a second, that the Lord of Last Hearth finally put down his deceased opponent.
The trial was over, and so too was Meryn Trant's life.
Lord Umber dropped his opponent face down into the cold dirt so as to rid himself of the dead weight, and he strode back over towards the makeshift dais. He stood for a moment before anyone acknowledged him.
"Are you not entertained Your Grace?" questioned the smug giant.
Jamie's sister, Queen Cersei had transfixed her emerald gaze upon the man, and hatred consumed her face.
Had Cersei been privy to the means, she might've strangled Lord Umber herself.
Finally after a moment of silence, Robert rose up to deliver the verdict.
"The gods have decreed the guilt of Prince Joffrey Baratheon in his case against Lady Jeyne of House Poole. As promised I shall bestow one boon so long as it is within my power. Would the Lady Jeyne like to..."
Lord Umber interrupted the King,
"Our dear sweet Lady is unable to speak from what your sons Hound did to her, and she wishes to remain silent until such a time as her offenders are rid of her sight. She's given me power to speak with her voice and so I shall."
Jamie looked over to his sweet sisters side, and she held ever tighter onto the boy whom she'd loved since birth. Nothing in the world will see him from her arms.
"All the gods have decided your sons guilt, and as such I could request a great many things of you Your Grace. Lord Vayon's last thought on the matter was to have me punch the Princes face in like his daughters had been. Yet many before you wish your Joffrey to take the black,"
Cersei lashed out with her emerald eyes, yet she did not speak. Lord Umber was trying to goad her into rejection.
If she had that might've been what punishment they'd chosen.
"But I'll not have a cruel boy his like manning the Wall. The Old Bear wouldn't take him, most like he'd just see him pushed from atop the Wall once your boy starts throwing around orders to seasoned men. Personally I think chopping his cock off might do the trick of tempering the boys dark impulses, but then he still might rule the Kingdoms for a time."
The Greatjon smiled once before concluding his request.
"So instead per Lady Jeyne's request, I ask you to attaint your eldest son. The Gods have decreed his guilt and I require that he hold no lands and claims no throne. He's not fit for service as a Maester, nor as a Septon to your faith, and he shall not serve on our Wall. So he should live out the rest of his days forever close to that which he'd lost, only so he could be reminded of his horrid nature."
Cersei let a tear flow down her cheek, and Robert sighed,
Yet he could not refuse.
"Very well. I, King Robert of House Baratheon, first of my name, hereby attaint my eldest son and agree to disinherit him, whilst removing him from the line of succession."
The King's voice nearly quaked as he spoke, it wasn't an easy decision to be sure.
Robert might've never shown the boy any affection, but he still believed Joffrey to be his son.
Lord Umber finally bowed before his King, and turned to face the Warden of the North.
"Your lady Sansa is free from this wretched boy Lord Stark, I would ask that as such you consider marrying her to my eldest son."
The Lord of Winterfell was silent and did not speak, yet his largest bannerman took no offense.
Instead the big man returned to the Northmen benches and was celebrated amongst them as a mighty champion.
Chants of "Greatjon!" rang out over the courtyard nearly in unison, and yet before he embraced even his sons, The Lord of Last Hearth made sure to pay his respects to the Lady Jeyne.
Whom still sat veiled and broken.
Yet while the Northmen remained in their momentary triumph, there was an undercurrent of false pretense amongst them.
They were still fearful for the Heir to Winterfell.
And it was time.
"In the case of Robb Stark versus the Crown, champions present yourself."
Two men made a rush to see Ser Meryn's broken body from the battlefield, and they returned his valyrian sword to the Lannister camp.
Tyrion pulled at Jamie's tunic and hugged him,
"Thank you for everything, I love you Jamie."
The White Knight couldn't help but smile.
"Why are you telling me this now Tyrion?" He placed a brotherly punch onto his younger siblings arm as they released from one another.
"Just in case."
As he turned away he found that Lord Stark's eldest son had not yet moved, and so Jamie decided to step forward first.
He moved downwards from his Grace's side, but before he left Cersei had grabbed him by the arm and stared into his emerald eyes.
"Don't die" her gaze whispered with heavy desperation.
I won't, he replied with sincerity.
He continued down towards the lower courtyard, all the while thinking about what had to be done.
Once, In his brightest hour Jamie Lannister had worn his golden armor, yet that was many years ago. For so long he'd been hated for his greatest deed.
But now he'd wore the pale enameled scales of the Kingsguard. With the unemblazoned shield at his left, and the crimson blade Honor at his hip.
None shall forget what I do on this day.
This shall be my finest act.
Robb Stark came forward from the Northern booth, and at his side strode his younger half brother. The Heir to Winterfell had already armored himself in thick scale plates, and adorned it with a kingly fur, but besides those adorning's his armor was of little note.
Yet what his brother handed him was not.
The Lord of Moat Cailin bestowed upon his elder half brother the sword he'd won his own victory with, and the mystic folded steel shown like fire from the suns rays.
After tightly embracing his younger brother, Robb Stark sheathed the ancient blade and strode forth from his ensemble, and stood opposed to Ser Jamie upon the ancient courtyard of Winterfell.
"The Crown accuses Robb of House Stark with assaulting the former Crowned Prince Joffrey Baratheon. Both sides have put forth their claims, and now the Gods shall judge the truth. This trial shall not end until one man submits or perishes upon the field of battle. Do you both understand?"
Jamie fully understood, and the boy he was fighting lowered his head despite not knowing what he was getting into.
Robert continued regardless.
"Should The Crown's champion be victorious then the punishment shall be dismemberment of the offending hand for Robb Stark, however the Crown would be willing to accept Robb's joining of the Night's Watch if he were so inclined. Yet should Robb Stark be victorious then any wrong doing of his shall be proven false forever in the eyes of men."
"Kneel before your king and let the trial commence."
Both men knelt, and after having done so they strode apart from each other.
"You are very brave Lord Robb, most men would've put another's life on the line."
The boy snickered, and curled one side of his lips.
"That's were your wrong Kingslayer, We Northmen don't trade lives."
With that the Heir to Winterfell drew his brothers sword from its sheath, and as such Jamie was inclined to mirror such an action.
Robb Stark had only just strapped on his helm, but Jamie could still see his face. It imprinted upon his mind, and he could not imagine forever closing those deep blue eyes.
Winterfell's heir charged forth at Ser Jamie and began his assault. They met for the first blow and the White Knight was pleased with his opponent apparent strength.
The Boys talent was in his ferocity and relentlessness.
Robb Stark bashed at Jamie's shield, yet after a third strike the White Lion put forth his own blade. The youth did not fail to meet him with a parry, yet he was too slow for a counter and so Jamie backed away unscathed.
Next Jamie fainted a swipe at the boys feet before redirecting to an upwards slash. Though he'd not been fighting at full speed Jamie was still impressed that the boy had not fallen for such a tactic.
Yet the youth's footwork was still unrefined, Jamie could've planted hard and slipped the boy towards his own dirt.
Instead the White Lion slid backwards to refrain from a test of strength, the Heir to Winterfell took this opportunity to fix his own strides, and now they were more adequate to what esteem Jamie might've held him in.
The Lord of Winterfell's eldest son fought like Lord Stark's elder brother,
And as Jamie met the next vicious strike with an angled parry, he wondered who was the better fighter between the Heir and his bastard half brother.
The Lord of Moat Cailin fought like Lord Stark's younger brother.
But how does Ned Stark fight? How could he have defeated Ser Arthur?
Jamie wasn't sure if fighting Ned's son would help him learn such a thing, but it most certainly would be a stepping stone.
Robb Stark then countered Jamie's reach, and pushed Jamie's sword to the ground before going for a strike himself. The stab was towards Jamie's emerald eyes and might've found its mark had a lesser swordsman been his opponent.
Yet Jamie flashed his unemblazoned shield before Robb's blade, the sword cut through his cover like a knife through butter. So Jamie discarded the useless weight from his arms and stood opposed to Robb Stark with only Honor in his hands.
"You've lost your shield Kingslayer, shall I lose mine to make it even?"
Jamie smiled from beneath his helm, the boy is cocky.
The Heir to Winterfell unlatched his own cover to the protest of many gathered Northmen, he tossed it aside and was even so bold as to remove his helm.
"I'd have a better look at you Oathbreaker." He hollered out attempting to goad Jamie into mirroring such a foolish action,
And it worked. Yet Jamie removed his helm so that all could hear his words when the time came,
No helm would obstruct the truth.
"Have it your way Lord Robb. I'll not deny you the courtesy."
Jamie cast his own lions head helm to the ground, and he unveiled his golden curls once more to the world, even ruffling a hand through them.
The White Lion then pointed his sword in the boys direction.
"Let every man sing your praises Lord Robb, you are a better swordsman than any man has a right to believe. I want you to know that I hold you in high esteem."
His opponent laughed.
"You honor me Kingslayer."
They both redirected their swords towards one another before charging.
Robb continued his merciless assault, yet he could never hope to land a blow upon Jamie. The White Lion moved with the swiftness befitting his houses sigil and with each parry he tested the boys defense.
He might have hope to one day defeat me. But he is not yet ready.
This wolf is still a pup.
Jamie continued his all encompassing defense for a moment, and he had once more a chance to see Robb Stark rid of his blade, but chose to continue the duel. He crossed swords with the wolf pup and stood in stare as the boy fumed with rage.
His cause is Righteous, and the Gods give him Strength.
As he looked down to study his opponents hold footwork the youthful pup saw an unintentionally gifted opportunity. Robb Stark released a hand from his blade and struck Jamie across the chin, the boy was strong yet Jamie found he lost no teeth.
Blood would not mar his white armor.
Jamie turned from the ensuing clash and narrowly avoided the full brunt of his opponent's blade. Yet he did not escape unscathed, for the young pup managed to strike forth at Jamie's sword hand.
The flat of Robb's blade struck Jamie's gauntlet and smacked Honor from his grip.
A different angle and the boy would've claimed Jamie's sword hand.
Yet as the White Lion reeled, Robb Stark moved to capitalize. Jamie managed to grip the falling hilt of Honor with his unoccupied left hand, and he brought the sword back to block the Heir to Winterfell's strike.
The blow would've taken Jamie's head clean, even through the helm he'd discarded.
Silence went through the crowd in that moment, and Jamie was on the defensive for the first time. Yet only for a moment was such an arrangement true, for Jamie realized that his opponent was indeed dangerous.
Ser Jamie pushed backwards then, and rolled beneath Lord Robb's next slash.
With the next strike Jamie finally countered the boy, let's see how tight his defense truly is.
Jamie began to light the boy up with faints and slashes. He started out simple enough, and the boy had a basic understanding of how to maintain repose.
Yet as Jamie pressed farther into the combinations he'd become so accustomed with he found half a dozen holes in the boys stance. With each strike the Heir to Winterfell was tiring, whilst the White Lion remained strong.
It is nearly time.
Jamie slowed his pace so that the two could once more cross blades for a moment, Robb Stark again tried to land a punch across Jamie's mug, but the White Lion would not fall for the same trick twice.
And so he tugged at the boy and switched places with him, Jamie continued in his momentum's direction and created space between them.
Such a distance would allow Robb time for a reprieve, and grant Jamie the ability to speak.
"You've fought well Lord Robb, but you have more to learn."
"That's true enough, but you've nothing to teach me." He refrained from insult, Jamie might've won the boys respect.
"Perhaps, but I think our duel is at an end."
The boy continued to circle, unaware of Jamie's intention.
Ser Jamie raised his blade towards the young pup, and began to admire it before speaking.
"A fine blade she is Lord Robb. Upon receiving her I dubbed the blade Honor, for men throughout the Realm deny that I retained such a thing after my actions in King's Landing. Yet your father has spread no ill word, have you heard what transpired there boy?"
"I'm not your boy Lannister, but aye. All know of your doings."
"Then you know what Honor means to me, you've doubtlessly heard that I threw it away when I killed the King I'd sworn to protect, but such a thing was not given without proper reason. Ask your father what I did, then you shall know the truth."
"I know the truth."
Robb Stark began to close the distance, but Jamie was not finished speaking.
"As do I."
Jamie released the mystic blade of valyria from his grasp, and when the ancient steel struck the snowy grounds of Winterfell a harmonious ring filled the air.
Brandon the Builder's heir charged no further, and instead stood with silent understanding.
The White Lion turned from his opponent and knelt in the King's direction.
"I, Ser Jamie Lannister officially yield. I cannot in good conscious continue to stand for an action so heinous that the Gods themselves have condemned. Robb Stark is innocent of any wrong doing!"
Silence fell upon the gathered parties, and shock was plain to see around both camps.
Cersei stared with hateful intent upon one eye, and fighting back tears from the other. Joffrey frothed at the mouth for his uncles treason, yet Jamie would never have to worry about vengeance from the boy. Now that he could not provoke retaliation upon others,
Perhaps someone could teach him how to behave.
Tyrion was the most excepting of the brood, but Jamie wondered what Lancel would think for his part.
Would he be angered that he'd lost his hand in this mummers farce?
Robert arose from his seat, and called forth to all in attendance.
"The duel is hereby over. Ser Jamie has yielded his defense, and in the eyes of the gods Robb Stark is innocent of any crime. As such he shall forever be so in the eyes of men and before the Crown."
King Robert turned to face his dear friend Ned Stark, and proceeded to congratulate him on raising such bold fighters for children.
"Your boys have grown nicely Ned! And who would've thought your eldest pup could've stood against Ser Jamie?"
"He's No Pup Robert, My Son is a Young Wolf."
Lord Stark's booming voice spread across the courtyard in an unnatural fashion, as if all within Winterfell could hear its Lord's voice.
From somewhere within the keep Lord Stark's children's wolves began to howl in unison, and many northmen took up such a cry with rather poor mimicry.
Greatjon was not amongst their number, and instead the largest man in attendance began bellowing,
"To The Young Wolf!" it was a chant that many soon got behind, and quick enough the courtyard of Winterfell was overrun with such a cheer.
Jamie stood in shock for a moment, but felt a hand upon his shoulder. He turned to find the auburn haired Robb Stark at his back with sword in hand.
Yet it was not the sword of his brother, but instead Jamie's Honor.
Robb thrust it forth and placed the hilt within Jamie's hand after a moment of shared stares.
The boy seemed still confused at the manner of his victory. Perhaps he'd sensed that there was little chance for such an outcome.
"Why did you drop your sword?"
"Because if I'd slain you I wouldn't have its namesake. There is no justice in our fighting, for I beheld the scene with clear vision, and yet I still hold contempt for it same as you. Had someone done that to my sister Cersei then I'd have done no less than what you'd did."
"Lady Jeyne's not my sister." The boy was smart.
"You're right, she doesn't look like you. Then again she didn't look much like her father either."
Robb Stark remained silent.
"Regardless, it was just a point, anyone you love could've been a stand in."
The Heir to Winterfell stuck out his hand, whilst many throughout the crowd began to watch.
"Very well. You have my respect Ser Jamie."
Jamie took the outreached wrist and grasped it within his own.
"And you have mine Young Wolf."
The stares were every where by now, and Jamie could be sure that he'd failed to please everyone.
But it didn't matter, he'd done what was right.