Jaime has had plenty of time and opportunity to reflect on the fact that he will, like everyone else, die someday. He's come close to it a handful of times, often escaping by a miracle. As a knight and a member of the Kingsguard, he always thought he'd die before reaching fifty years old, sword in hand, bleeding out from whatever fatal blow the enemy delivered on him. Sometimes, in the dark of the night, he wonders if he will die in a pompous execution following the discovery of his affair with Cersei.
It seems that this is not the will of the gods he doesn't really believe in, though. For, if he is right in his assumption, he is about to be unceremoniously killed by the so-called Ghost of the Red Keep.
However, Jaime has no intention of dying without a fight. "If you think you'll just poison me", he whispers, his fingers caressing his sword's pommel, "you are wrong."
"Am I?", the voice replies. "Are you willing to engage into a swordfight right next to wildfire barrels?"
Damn, she got him. "It doesn't mean I'll drink whatever poisonous drink you give me."
The voice hums. "Not willingly, no", it says. He's half sure it belongs to a woman. "But there are many ways to kill a person. Humans are more fragile than one would think."
If only he could make out exactly where the (female) voice comes from, he could stab them (her) and be done with it. But the voice echoes through the tunnels, and he doesn't want to risk stabbing a wildfire barrell by accident. "Why are you so seen on murdering me?", he asks, keeping his voice tone casual.
"Kingslayer", the voice snarls. "Oathbreaker. Man without honor. You killed the king you were sworn to protect, a defenseless man who trusted you with his life." Yes, the perfectly innocent man, Aerys was. Do people forget he was called the Mad King? "And then, as if you hadn't broken enough vows, you defile your sister and put three bastards on her belly." You talk as if Cersei hadn't been more than willing to fuck me. It was her idea!
He doesn't defend himself; he's way beyond that. Instead, he says, "But those actions committed against other people, not you. What have I done to slight you so?"
"Are these crimes not enough, Kingslayer?"
"So you are just enacting justice with your own hands? Is that why you killed all the others, including my father?"
"Your father decimated two entire families sorely because of unpaid loans", the voice replies, more calmly than he expected. "Not to mention what he did at the sack of King's Landing—the sack that gave you the opportunity to kill your king. I know he's the one behind the deaths of Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys. Three innocents."
He swallows heavily. The voice's owner is completely right, and the reminder of his failure to save the Dornish princess and her children causes his insides to twist. But what could I have done? I'd never have been able to get to them in time.
The voice goes on. "Lord Baelish forced his whores to work under terrible conditions, paid them badly and took their children away as soon as they were born. Both he and Lord Varys were men loyal only to themselves, and always had a plot under their sleeves to get more power. They benefited from King Robert's reign, and yet never bothered to be loyal."
He's half-tempted to ask about these plots, but decides against it. The voice might be bluffing, for all he knows—although he somehow doubts it—and the men are dead anyway. "What about Pycelle, though? He's always been loyal—"
"To your family", the voice cuts him off. "Never to the crown, as he's supposed to be."
"I see", he hums. "So, anyone who doesn't fall into your honorable standards deserves death, right?"
He hoped his taunt would disarm the voice's owner, but no. "Right", it snaps. "And you are the next. And then it will be your sister, and your vile firstborn."
No. Not Cersei. Not Joffrey. "Cersei is innocent", he tries to argue. "She only laid with me because her husband mistreats her—"
"Oh, I'm aware of the pain the king has inflicted on his wife", the voice replies. "He is on my list, don't worry. But suffering does not excuse your sister from her sins. After her faithful dog is gone, she will perish next. And so will the Crown Prince."
"Are you going to kill Joffrey because of his blood?" It's pathetic, but he can't help the slight crack in his voice. He can bear his own death, but—
"Of course not", the voice replies, almost gently. "Your other two children are not on my list. But the Crown Prince is a cruel boy who hurts people for fun. Did you know he hits on his siblings on a regular basis?"
No, he did not. "Why should I trust you on this?"
"I know my way through all of these tunnels, Kinsglayer. I hear everything. How do you think I learn about the dishonor that reigns at court?"
He doesn't want to hear any more of her explanations. He must find a way to spare his family's lives. "You are… a woman, aren't you?"
"Why does it matter?"
"My lady", he settles on that. "What can I do for you not to go after my sister and children?" There is no point denying her accusations. He can sense she won't believe him anyway. "I'll do anything, but please, don't harm them."
Silence falls—he can hear the flames from the torches behind him crackling, but nothing else. After what feels like hours, the voice speaks up again. "You will come here every night", she states, "and train me in swordsmanship. If it comes a day in which the sun rises without your arrival, I'll make sure either your sister or your firstborn are found dead before sunset."
She might be bluffing, he tells himself. She may very well kill you right now, and you'll be powerless to prevent Cersei's and Joffrey's deaths. But what else can he do, but agree to her terms? "Alright", he concedes. "Do you have a sword?"
"No."
"Then I'll bring it to you tomorrow night. However, my lady, there are two things I must know." He takes a deep breath. "First, I must know my way out and in. I spent hours walking in these tunnels, and I have not the slightest idea of how I ended up here."
"I'll lead you to an exit that serves as entrance", she tells him firmly. "What is your next request?"
"That I see you", he replies. "I must know it is you I'm walking into, not anyone else."
It takes awhile for her to respond. "Fair enough", she says. He sees a torch ahead of him being moved—she's probably grabbing it—and, after a few heavy steps in his direction, he sees her.
Or, well, what he can see of her. Her face is entirely covered by a white mask, but he can tell she's tall and large. A man's build, he realizes. No wonder she wants to be trained in swordplay.
"This is how you'll always see me", she announces. "And now, to your way out."
Despite her size, she's fast. Before he can move, she blinds him with a piece of cloth.
