Everything will change
Feeling defeated, Jaime mounted his horse and returned to the camp. If the Blackfish would not budge, the only thing left would be to attack, and that was not an order he was prepared to give, even if duty to his king commanded it. Perhaps if he could convince Edmure to work with him, they might avoid that. He'd seen to it that the true lord of Riverrun was bathed and sheltered - better treatment than he himself had received from the Lord's kin from the North - and maybe he could use that. As a true lord of Riverrun, Edmure might be able to convince the guards at the castle to open the gates to him. But what then? The Blackfish would surely not go down without a fight.
Nothin' stays the same
Arriving at the tent, he dismounted and entered with a heavy sigh. His steward looked up from the corner and rose to meet him to assist with his armor. "When will this be over?" he asked rhetorically as the steward untied the straps at the elbows. "No luck, Ser?" "No, Daven, I'm afraid we may be in for a bit of a mess. I know that's not what you signed up for when I dragged you on this trip." "It's alright, Ser Jaime. I'll be proud to aid you if this goes to battle. Better someone you can trust than a green squire who's all thumbs." Jaime grinned, "Agreed." The steward removed the strap at Jaime's right shoulder and began arranging the armor on the stand in the corner.
He did trust Daven. He was one of the only people that Jaime had allowed to touch his arm since losing the hand. Qyburn had treated him - torture though it was, Brienne had helped with wrapping it on their journey from Harrenhal, and Bronn of course had pulled the new hand off of him while sparring once or twice. Cersei had never adjusted to it, not even once the golden hand had been fitted to him. Daven was the person he relied on most to ensure that the straps were tight and that his armor would not knock it loose. The steward had never shied from it or treated him differently for it, and that earned him Jaime's trust. He could have come to the riverlands with a squire, but he was aggravated with the situation enough as it was and, if his hand had fallen off at the parlay with the Blackfish that squire would not last long.
And nobody here's perfect
The parlay - yes the parlay had not gone well at all. The old goat was almost the most stubborn person he'd ever met, and would not concede even with the life of his nephew threatened. Jaime would never harm Edmure or Brynden Tully as a condition of the oath he'd sworn to Lady Catelyn, and it was as if the old man knew this and saw right through him. Damn his conscience.
Jaime sat down at the table, still half armored, and let out a long breath. Since when had his conscience been so loud, he wondered, putting his remaining hand to his temple. Daven turned back to face him and approached. "Are you alright, Ser?" "Yes." Jaime half-growled, "just a splitting headache." He'd done enough talking for the morning - he liked the steward, but right now he very much wanted to be alone with the thoughts that were creeping in. "Leave me, I'll- " he looked down at the armor still covering his left arm and chest "I'll take care of this. Send a messenger to Lothar Frey and let him know I'll want to speak with Lord Tully this afternoon." "Very good, Ser Jaime." The steward looked concerned for the knight, but he did as he was told and exited the tent. Jaime sighed and leaned back, thankful for what little peace he could buy himself."
Oh but everyone's to blame
A/N: I do not own Game of Throne or these characters; some dialogue may be taken verbatim from HBO's Game of Thrones or George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire. Lyrics used are directly from Andrew Belle's "In My Veins" (C) 2010.