The most astonishing thing throughout his time in the Cells was for him that he was not cruely tortured.
Sure, he had been kept shackled all the times, the King had beaten him up at first and later the jeering Guards and Jailers had kicked him everytime they had entered his Cell and had been hitting him everytime they had fed him water of grub but besides that, he really had been not mistreated.
He had to endure his entire stay in the same clothing, had had no chance to relieve himself in a bucket or to getting rid of the ever increasing stench and the lice but it had been no real torture.
The thing that plagued him more than his pissed and shit-cacked clothing and dirtied skin ever could was that he was given no news about Cersei, not even the tiniest bit of information about her.
The youngest of the jailers sometimes sang some mocking songs to him when he asked too often.
It seemed that the ugly boy liked some song in particulary, for he sang it more often than all other songs and the words reached Jaime's ears even when he was alone in his Cell and the Jailers were making their rounds.
Seven times times she killed them, Seven babes of black hair,
out of her cunt blood spillt then,
seven times denied the King his babe,
brought the Stranger as their fate.
never born alive from there,
just the golden was alive,
as if he was Targaryen like.
Lion proud, Lion proud,
look where are your Children now,
seven times denied the King his babe,
brought the Stranger as their fate.
It had actually been amusing song, thought Jaime often to himself, if only for it must irk his proud father more than everyone else.
Sometimes he thought about his little brother then and how would fare in the years to come, with father hovering over him.
Ah, his father, their proud and noble father. How he surely was hating them now for ruining his great plans and goals.
Father had not come to him during his time in the Cells and Jaime sometimes wondered if he had also stayed away from Cersei.
Hopefully father really had done so, that would have been a blessing for his sweet sister.
His dear white brother Barristan had been the first one which he had seen at the Morning of the Courtday.
Barristan who had looked at him with pure disgust and disapprovment.
Barristan who had turned back towards the Jailers and told them that by order of the King, that the former member of the Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister was to thoroughly cleaned and clad in roughspon but clean cloth.
Jaime had tried to speak with his fellow White Knight then, made a crude joke about Barristan's now deeply scared face and tried to tell him that he had not meant to disfigure him but the older man had completely ignored him and his sorry attempts.
Jaime had been freed of his irons, bound anew with others and then brought into a different Cell, higher up the level, where three Guards had ripped his dirty and stinking clothing of his body and then had scrubbed his soiled body roughly and thoroughly.
Then he had been given the most simple clothing in his life, just a long and rough soon tunic and then been forced to make his way to the Great Hall.
He had felt their gaze upon himself, their accusing eyes as he then stood before them all.
The Great Hall had been filled with false whispers and disapproving shouts and all were against him and Cersei.
He had stood there and forced himself to show nothing, to not react to anything and to not give them the pleasure by showing any weakness beyond the evident one which his body was openly presenting after being in a Cell for nearly a moon.
He knew that he had lost a lot of his muscle mass while he had been shackled to the Wall of his Cell but he felt not significantly weaker for it, just stiff from being kept nearly immobile for so long.
Maybe he just felt not really weak because of the anger burning in his heart and mind though, this anger against them all.
Maybe he felt not weak because he finally saw his sweet sister once more, barely twenty steps away from him, thinner and clearly weakened but still so very beautiful and proud.
Her bright eyes were meeting his and he saw a tiny glimmer of defiance there still and he smiled at her.
A hard hand slaped his cheeks and then forced his gaze forward once more and he glared at the man for doing so.
It was Father. Father who had slapped him, Father who was glaring back at him hatefully, Father who had slapped him with his remaining hand.
Jaime had glanced briefly down towards where once Father's other Hand had been and had seen that there was now nothing but an overlong red velvet sleeve with golden embroidery.
At the same morning, the Master of Whispers had been found in an old and unused, nearly forgotten and thus rather secret staircase, which lead from below the White Sword Tower to the base of the Cliffs upon which the Red Keep was throning over the Backwater Bay.
Though it must been admitted that not much of the Master of Whispers had been found in truth, only his head and both his hands, the rest of him had been simply undetectable and very very unlikely to be ever found at all, seeing that the severed head and hands were already quite rotten when they had been finally found.
Most Lords and Courtiers were knowing that the Master of Whispers had not be seen since the the day before the former Queen and her brother had been caught in the act of aborting the King's babe and thus most had been fully believing already before the meagre remains had been finally found, that the Lannister Twins were the reason for Lord Varys' disappearance.
That the Head and the Hands had then finally been found in a long forgotten way below the Tower of the Kingsguard had then been evidence enough for all of them. It was then completely clear to all of them that the Kingslayer had killed the Master of Whispers, most likely for finding too much evidence against the former Queen and her brother.
Jamie had shrugged when he had heard that accusation but he had not denied it, even though he had not done it. He had not cared either and what was one more death on top of all the other things.
His eyes had sought those of his sister as they both had been forced to listen to all the words which had been spoken against them. Cersei had not searched for his eyes though, she instead had stared at her father and at the King and then screamed that they were at fault, only to had been forced to listening as the King screamed back at her.
It had been a tiring experience, this charade of a Court day and trial, had Jamie then thought to himself and his mind had drifted to other, never really forgotten experiences in this damned Hall.
He had suddenly then started to laugh nearly hysterically as he had glanced down and had seen that he was standing at the same spot on which a good ten years ago, Rickard Stark had been burned by the Mad King.
"Burn them all," Jaime first whispered, "Burn them all. Burn burn burn...just like Rickard Stark, just like the boy who had stolen a loaf of bread, just like all others."
He had screamed the last words with tears in his eyes.
All other voices had stopped. All had been then looking at him, he had felt their eyes on him, had been able to smell their disgust with him, with what they all had surely seen as his weakness.
He had not cared though. They had thought of him and Cersei as disgusting anyway, they both would die either way, why should he had to stop his thoughts and memories then.
Jaime had heard them all whispering, speaking, shouting again.
He had betrayed the trust of this King, this borish idiot who had never been deserving of his sweet sister, just like he betrayed the trust of the Mad idiot King before him, who had never deserved the gentle Queen which he had raped and tortured every night.
Oh how Jaime had wished often during the last ten years that he had not stopped the Pyromancers from blowing up there City.
The Hall had turned quiet once more, silent as death. They all had looked at him with wide eyes.
And he had laughed. And laughed till a blow to his knees had let him stumble down.
In the end he had told them all the last day of the mad King and oh my but how he Jaime, had enjoyed their reactions to that little Story.
Their panic, their fear, their whitened faces and shortness of breathing after they all had realised what it would have meant for them all, that they all would have died.
Old Arryn and father himself had then spoken with the other Lords and the spittlickles of the Faith had brought the forward the idea of giving him, Jaime the chance to prove himself to the Gods.
A fight for the Chance for the former Queen to be given to the Silent sisters and him Jaime to the Wall, only if he would survive that first of course.
The King had then actually agreed to that and had named himself as Jaime's opponent, ignoring all protests.
...
Three days later...
He had tightened his grip on the sword, had taken a few deep breaths and had felt calmness settling in his mind.
This was his fight, the most important fight of his life, the last one. This was the fight for his sister and for revenge against all who stood between them.
His mind was deadly calm but also calculating. The fingers of his sword hand were strong and the fingers of his other hand are holding a small shield. Laughable small but maybe still useful enough.
His emerald eyes flashed like Wildfyre and he felt his heartbeat grewing faster and faster while his mind still stayed calm.
This was what he could do, this was what he was trained for his entire life, this was his greatest talent, his only maybe. A sword fight, a fight for blood, for death and without fear now.
His eyes flickered over to his sweet sister for a moment, his love, his desire. He would fight more for her than he did for himself and he would hurt those who were between them more out of revenge for her than for himself, that he promised her silently and hoped that she she knew it.
Sweet sweet sister and love.
A Roaring came from the far end of the Hall and he turned his head away from Cersei and towards the sound.
Robert was there.
Foolish, roaring Stag of a King.
Jamie felt the calmness wandering from his mind through his whole body, even his heartbeat getting less erratic. His body shifted slightly, his stance straightened into the long trained pose of the always waiting Kingsguard.
Only that he would be a Kingslayer today, instead of a Guard. A Kingslayer twice over, that was surely a new record. He smiled a little at these thoughts.
This would be his legacy, the White Lion who had slain two Kings. The White Lion who loved his sister and ended two royal lines.
It had a certain sound to it, not the most honorable and flattering one but certainly an unforgettable one.
The King was now nearly in front of him, swinging his hammer while nearly running towards him.
Jamie ducked away, just barely and he heard the heavy sound behind himself when the hammer hit the floor instead.
There were screams everywhere, screams from men and women and Cersei. No time to think about her now though, no time to think about her. He concentrated on rolling away from the Stag and the once more swinging Hammer, brought up his sword in the height of his opponent's legs and trusted the pommel into the side of the knee closest to him. The heavier man's knee gave only barely but it was enough to halt the attack for the blink of an eye and Jamie used this moment to get out of the way once more and to get up.
He trusted his sword now forward, his small shield beating against his enemy's hammer wielding arm and forcing it slightly away and he rushed then forward, forcing his sword forward with his whole body.
This was not an elegant fight, this was purly to destroy, to kill and he felt it in his arms when his sword entered the other man's body below his heart, when he forced his sword through the other man's armor with the force of his own bodymass.
The King bellowed then, loud, very very loud and close to his ear and the next thing which Jaime then felt was a heavy blow on his right side and then a second one and one more.
He felt something bursting in his ear and could not hear anything anymore on that side but he still let not go of his sword. He hooked his right leg behind the one of his enemy and tried to bring him to fall, only to be hit on the other side of his head.
One hit, another and even heavier blow, a third one and a fourth one and then he could not hear anything anymore there too.
It was nearly a blessing, for the screams during the fight had been so loud. He still let not go of the sword though, but instead he now was brutally twisting it with his sword hand in the other man's gut and at the same time started to force his small shield under the King's strong arm to stop him from further attacks.
He could not hear Robert Baratheon's response to that, did not know if the other once more bellowed in pain or screamed instead but he could feel that his enemy tightened his large muscles and then Jamie felt only more blows raining on his head everywhere.
Blood was now blinding him and he tasted it on his lips. He moved his head away a bit a then crashed it against the other man's arm and chest. He could not hear the clanking noise but he could feel it, the way his helmet pressed ever more on his head as he hit against the other man's armored body.
The King stumbled slightly and for just one second Jaime felt less pressure against himself but then this moment was over.
Jaime felt himself lifted up and then felt himself thrown away as if he weighed nothing. He landed on his side, the sword still in his hand but without the shield now. He looked up and could see the blood gushing out of the other man's gut wound and could see that his enemy was weakened. Jaime pushed himself, ignoring the ringing pain in his body and especially his head, he pushed himself up and then rushed forward to bring his opponent down. He drove his left shoulder into the heaving and bleeding enemy while his right arm tried once more to trust his sword into the other man's body.
Heavy arms and hard fists were beating him down though, powerful blows forced him to the floor and a hard kick against his right hand sent his sword flying. He scrambled to get up as quickly as possible but before he could do so, he felt even more kicks, this time against his legs, against his arms, against his head.
He could not see anything anymore, only feel as his helmet fell of his head after a particularly hard kick and he tried to roll away.
The next blow which connected with him was not from a foot but from a hammer now, he felt the heavy metal grinding down on his left hip.
Jamie yelped once and tried blindlessly to lift his right leg and to kick his enemy away but instead felt this leg being hit by the hammer next.
It was a searing pain but he ignored it for now while he blinked to clear his eyes and his hands scrambled around to find his sword.
He could not hear the next move of the Stag but he felt it when white hot pain erupted from his sword hand after the hammer smashed it to pulp. The tears which were now leaking out of his eyes, cleared them from blood and he could finally see again as he laid there.
His eyes met those blue fires of his heavily heaving and still bleeding enemy and then he searched for a brief moment for his sweet sister.
She looked still so beautiful, no matter the mistreatment during the past moon, so beautiful and proud even when she was clearly afraid.
Her husband would crush her beauty with his hammer, just like he was crushing Jamie's body right now.
Jamie knew what he had to do.
One final gift for his love.
He saw his sword laying not far away, his eyes looked once again at his opponent and then when he could see that the heavily injured stag was once more going to attack, Jaime pushed himself up with his good hand, scrambled out of the way and towards his sword and actually managed to grab it.
It felt wrong in the left hand but this would be the only chance he had now.
He aimed quickly and threw the sword with all his might while the raging Stag once more stormed towards him.
The sword luckily hit it's mark.
He felt his bones give away under the heavy blows of the enemy's hammer, his eyes not on the raging King but on his sweet sister, on his sword in her breast, her wide opened eyes which met his as she quickly died.
He felt his bloody being smashed to pulp, felt his bones give away and forced himself to tug his lips into a grin nonetheless.
His last thought was that he freed his sister of her marriage and denied her hated husband the satisfaction to brutalize her anymore, to murder her with his own hands and then he stopped thinking at all because a powerful blow crushed his head in.
Sorry that it had taken so long, had some RL problems...
