It was a month after the royal wedding that the king bid his young bride goodbye and rode off to a wedding, and then to war.
Of course, he hardly went alone. Accompanying Orryn was a large portion of the Baratheon army and a smaller number of the Tyrell forces - leaving the Lannister and remaining Tyrell men holding King's Landing, with Lord Tywin in charge - and all the baggage and wagons and camp followers that came with a force that large.
Considering they were entering what had been enemy territory until not so long ago, Orryn was also bringing along rather a lot of his own relatives. Uncle Kevan was there to advise the young king on battle strategy and act as Lord Tywin's representative, along with a few lords the Westerlands. The queen's brother Garlan was there to represent the Reach, whilst the king's brother Arthur was there for the Stormlands along with several of its lords too, and his sister Helia was there to be given as a hostage - wife - to Edmure Tully.
And Jaime, the king's mother, was there to, well... she wasn't quite sure what her official role was. To strain negotiations? To gloat? To threaten Tully if he ever looks at my daughter the wrong way? Because those things would undoubtedly happen. To fulfil an oath made at sword point whilst dead-drunk? She was to do that as well.
Though her mood worsened with each day they drew closer to Riverrun - where she would give away Helia and bid farewell to Brien - she tried to keep her spirits up thinking of the shocked look on Lady Catelyn's face when she rode into that castle with the woman's daughter beside her, Sansa's marriage to Tyrion newly annulled, just as promised.
Brien had got what he'd always wanted, doing his duty to his precious Lady Stark and even having the honour of escorting Sansa home. As Lady Catelyn's sworn shield, he would be returning to Winterfell after it was won back from the Ironborn, and after that, who knew. He didn't seem as thrilled as she had imagined he would be at the prospect, showing he was not quite the idealistic boy she had met months ago.
He was clearly not enjoying the idea of her upcoming marriage, which had yet to be announced, and scowled whenever Prince Oberyn's name came up in conversation. That amused her mostly because she knew it wasn't even jealousy, just anger at the fact she had no choice in the matter. Admittedly Jaime wasn't exactly enthused by the match, though as she had said before, being Oberyn Martell's wife would not be the worst thing in the world, if only because he'd leave her be.
Normally a royal march would be hosted at every castle they came across, but in such circumstances as these, each keep was held by a very wary garrison whilst their lords and soldiers gathered at Riverrun. Thus, they bypassed every stronghold by quite a way, though after being appalled at the first burnt-out village they saw, Orryn made sure they went through as many smallfolk settlements as possible, distributing food and supplies where needed, dealing with any bandits nearby and holding audiences with the smallfolk themselves to hear their complaints.
Helia even joined in with these at times, rather resignedly saying that as she was to be the new Lady of Riverrun, she should at least attempt to gain the favour of its people. She didn't quite have the patience and knack for convincingly listening that her brother did, but managed to get a few smiles out of some of the women for her sharp tongue, irreverence and direct, no nonsense attitude.
Her son was being overly generous, Jaime knew that, and her father would not approve of the king pandering to the smallfolk so, but she couldn't help but be glad for it. When they first entered villages, they tended to be met with dark, hollow-eyed stares of fear, suspicion and hate, particularly towards the few troops wearing Lannister red. Those expressions weren't quite gone by the time they left, but she saw the look in the eyes of many a tired commoner, that peace might come at last, and hoped they would not hate Orryn as they had hated Joffrey.
At least this king was showing them his face, and looked the part, clearly Baratheon, strong and serious when necessary, like his father had been, but charismatic and a good speaker like Robert was, good at making friends. Orryn was young and would soon learn he couldn't please everyone, but at least he tried, which was far more than could be said for Joffrey.
Of course, the few smiles and tentative nods of approval her children were met with did not extend to Jaime. Everyone knew the Kingslayer, rumoured to be the whore of Aerys, Rhaegar, Arthur Dayne, Robert, her own brother and gods know how many more; the list seemed to grow every day. But now the whispers also included her escape from Riverrun.
"I heard she slew a dozen men," She heard someone in a gaggle of farmer's wives saying as she rode past. "Then laughed as she escaped from the castle dripping in blood,"
"Barely over half a dozen, actually," She couldn't help but call out to them. All four women looked up, wide eyed and rather panicked, clearly not expecting her to have overheard. "And that was at the Whispering Wood. No one died the night I escaped, given I was dead-drunk at the time. If you're going to gossip, at least get it right,"
"Mother," Helia looked back at her with a grin as all the woman bleated their 'sorry milady's, bobbing clumsy curtsies and eyeing both her and Brien warily. "You complain about your reputation, but you don't exactly try and live it down,"
"They'll believe it no matter what I do," She shrugged. "I might as well get some amusement out of it," Her daughter shook her head, as Sansa Stark hid a smile, both girls turning back around.
In the evenings when they made camp, Jaime amused herself further by teaching Helia how to use a dagger, just in case. The girl didn't seem to take her lessons too seriously - nor did Arthur, laughing from the sidelines at his sister - but was learning, at least, and there wasn't much else to do when they stopped for the night given someone definitely would've noticed her and Brien sneaking off together. Even better, when Lady Sansa came across them one day and showed an interest, Jaime was only too happy to oblige.
"Just make sure you show your mother what you've learnt," She said. "And tell her who taught you," The girl just smiled faintly and shook her head.
"She would never understand why I wanted to learn. Had to learn," That was probably right. Lady Catelyn had never been a hostage, after all. Jaime had never exactly apologised for Joffrey's mistreatment of the girl, though had made it clear enough without actually voicing the words that she would have stopped it, had she been there.
Unlike Jaime, the nearer they got to Riverrun, the happier Sansa seemed to be, as though she was only now letting herself dare to believe she might actually be going home. Her and Helia were not the best of friends, though Jaime's daughter had a certain amount of affection for the younger girl. She hid it rather well with sarcastic comments every time Sansa said something foolish - which admittedly was a lot less frequent than when they had first met - though was plain to see from the rather protective way she glared at the men who looked at the girl the wrong way, and how they spent the days talking away as they rode beside each other.
Considering they were to be betrothed, Arthur and Sansa did not spend nearly as much time together; Arthur was always off with the other young boys, racing horses, sparring and doing things they shouldn't. He seemed to forget he was Lord Baratheon, if he even cared in the first place. Jaime didn't begrudge him that. She would've been a hypocrite, for one, given she hadn't made the best Lady Baratheon herself. There was time to grow up later.
All the ladies on this journey rode horses, as no wheelhouse had been brought along for the sake of speed, and that such a display of luxury in a war-torn land could be a little provocative to the starving commoners. She was more than happy with this arrangement. Helia was rather indifferent, whilst Sansa clearly did not enjoy riding at all but did not utter a word of complaint. As the two young girls tended to ride together, that left Jaime riding beside Brien behind them.
The weather turned foul when they were halfway through the Riverlands, torrential rain, chilly autumn winds and general misery. The whole column spent their days trudging along the muddy road, bemoaning the rain, soggy clothes and the fact they were forced to pitch their tents on the waterlogged ground every night. Jaime, however, was unconcerned.
"I don't know what they're complaining of," She remarked to Brien. "This journey is positively luxury,"
"How do you figure that?" Brien frowned. Everyone was cold, tired and soaked through.
"Well I get my own horse, for one," She grinned. "I don't have to suffer being tied backwards to you day after day. I get to sleep in a tent with a bedroll and a maid asking if I want a cup of wine, instead of being tied to a tree and beaten. And my chest doesn't constantly feel like its on fire,"
"True," He smiled. "And we get to eat actual meat and bread, rather than... whatever the Mummers fed us,"
"It doesn't bear thinking about," Jaime grimaced. "I had other things to focus on at the time, but whatever gruel they gave me was always suspiciously salty," It took him a few moments and a pointed look to figure out what that meant. When he did, she laughed at the look of pure revulsion on his face, and didn't ask whether his food had tasted the same as hers did.
She would have happily left the Bloody Mummers as not-so-fond memories, however that was not to be. Riding right in the middle of the party, Jaime had no idea as to why the column ground to a halt. Not until a messenger came galloping towards them, saying she was needed at the front.
Leaving Brien with the girls, she rode back with the man, off the road into the thicket of trees, rather puzzled as to why she was needed here, a feeling that only increased when she saw the group of eight or so men gathered around something in a circle.
Orryn and Ser Aredan were the only ones she recognised at a first glance, though it only took a split second for her eyes to fall on the two prisoners on their knees before the king.
Jaime froze, stomach clenching unpleasantly. Any other occasion and she would delight to have these two at her mercy. But not here, not now, and not in front of him. She glanced at her son, trying to keep her expression neutral.
"Found these two raping some poor country lass at the side of the road, Your Grace," A grizzled captain in the vanguard - one of the few Lannister captains there - spat on the ground next to the two prisoners as he explained to Orryn. "Bold as brass, and not a scrap of remorse. We were just going to hang them and not bother you, sire, but they recognised the banners. Said they knew Lady Baratheon,"
"And you really thought to use that as your saving grace?" Jaime pushed through the circle of mounted men on her horse. "You truly are as stupid as you look," All eyes looked up at her arrival.
Rorge and Shagwell looked much the same as they had when she had seen them last at Harrenhal. Dirty, cruel and stinking, one noseless, one in faded motley. Only now they were in their knees, being held down by two men apiece. She wasn't afraid of them, had never truly been afraid of them. Just afraid of what they'll say.
"Who'd have thought, she's back for more!" Shagwell cackled gleefully when he saw her. Nothing would make me happier than to pull your entrails up through your nose with a meat hook and watch you choke on them.
"Kingslayer," Rorge's beady eyes lit up. "We was just telling your boy here how we're dear old friends," He smirked, showing rotten teeth.
"Do you know these men, Mother?" Orryn frowned. Her son was shadowed by Ser Aredan; three of the Kingsguard had accompanied them on this journey, but Ser Balon and Ser Arys were elsewhere.
"They're of the Brave Companions," Jaime's lip curled. "Though the Bloody Mummers suits them better," Her face darkened. "The scum of the earth,"
"The sellsword band that betrayed Lord Tywin," Her son said flatly. "And delayed your return to King's Landing?" She nodded, and he straightened up, looking to the captain. "I hardly think we need to be listening to filth such as this. Hang them and have done with it,"
"Aye, your Grace," Men moved forward, one going to fetch a rope, and Rorge began to swear.
"You can kill us all you like, boy," He spat on the ground by the feet of Orryn's horse, ignoring the pointed but essentially useless 'your Grace' from Ser Aredan. "Can't change the fact I fucked your whore of a mother," There was a heavy silence. Jaime's smile froze in place. "Got nothing to say to that, your Grace," He sneered, and Shagwell giggled.
"Perhaps he fucks her too, Rorge," The last thing she saw before she refused to look his way was Orryn's face darkening dangerously. "She fucks her brother, why not her son too?"
"Enough," Jaime's tone was cold enough to be her father's as she raised her chin. Her voice cut through the gasps and mutters at the obscene accusation. These guards knew how to deal with insults to their lords and ladies well enough... just not a man proudly confessing to having raped the king's mother in front of both the king and said mother.
She felt sick to the stomach but was sure to keep her sharp smile on her face, as Shagwell cackled like the mad cunt he was, despite the men holding him kicking him viciously in the ribs to shut him up. He spluttered, hacking up blood that dribbled down his chin, but carried on laughing regardless. If I throw up, I'll be sure to do it on their poxy faces.
How ironic was that the only safe place to look was at her rapists. Gods, Orryn heard that, all of it, they all did, I can't - no, she had to keep smiling. She was glad they were far enough from the road to not be seen or heard. Aside from these few men, and my own son.
"Old friends, you said," Keep smiling. Her own voice drowned out some of the ringing in her ears. "Yes, I can't put into words how glad I am to see you both again,"
It was easier if she focused on all her fantasies from the last months of what she'd like to do to these two. A shame Zollo isn't here, really. She hoped her eyes showed all the cruelty, malice, hate that was there. Her smile certainly did.
"After all, a Lannister always pays their debts," She paused for a moment, then turned to the captain, careful not to look at Orryn, careful to make her tone bright and careless and cold. "Captain, these men talk too much. Have their tongues ripped out,"
The man blinked at her abrupt, harsh order. He opened his mouth, looking to the king, if anything rather hopefully. Jaime dared to glance in the same direction for a moment, seeing that Orryn's face was his father's stony mask.
"Do it," Was all he said. The captain closed his mouth, grimly satisfied.
"Yes, your Grace," He nodded to two of his men, who moved forward. There were no pincers to hand, so it would have to be done with a dagger, which would undoubtedly cut up more of their mouths as they struggled, and not be nearly as clean. What a shame that is.
"Bitch!" Rorge roared, along with several much more graphic insults of what exactly he'd done and would like to do to her. "Filthy old whore!"
Those became his last words. Rorge struggled and spat and swore, whilst the fool became a deadweight, his laughter nothing less than crazed. And then they screamed, then sort of gurgled, and Jaime smiled as two bloody tongues were flung at her feet. She laughed as one of the half-wild dogs that skirted the edges of their column darted forward and snapped both up.
Gregor Clegane still held Harrenhal. She was considering having them both sent there, to meet the same fate as their Goat, but there was always the chance they would escape on the journey there, not to mention that she wouldn't be there to watch. Making up her mind, Jaime dismounted her horse, stepping towards the two men still gargling in pain from the loss of their tongues and pulling out her dagger, making sure each of them saw it.
"It's not too sharp, I'm afraid," She said, her tone regretful, the look on her face anything but as she ran a finger over the blade, testing it. "I could stab you in the heart or the eye, have it be done quickly. But I don't think that'll do. I could gut you and leave you to die in agony at the side of the road. Tempting, but then I'd miss it. Believe me, I want to see," Her smile sharpened. "I suppose I'll have to kill you the way I killed Aerys. What's good enough for a king is good enough for rabid dogs like you," She sheathed her dagger. "Is anyone willing to lend me a sword? One I can actually lift,"
Her own was in her saddlebags, wrapped up, and Sarsfield's would be too heavy to get a good swing in.
"Here, milady," One of the younger, slighter men stepped forward, handing over his simple blade. She smiled in thanks, making him blush, weighing it in her hand.
"Let them both go," The men gawped at her order, but at Orryn's terse nod they did as she asked. Of course, both Rorge and Shagwell made to sprint for the woods, but Jaime was too quick for them.
Before Rorge had managed to take a step, she'd opened his throat in one swift movement that sprayed blood violently. Whilst he collapsed, taking a sweetly long time to choke to death, clutching his throat as though he could hold it together, she was already setting off after Shagwell, leaping at his back and tackling him to the ground.
The fool wasn't a large man and they rolled, but she got the upper hand, him ending up on his back with her pressing her sword to his throat hard enough to leave a red line. Even now, he still cackled, which made her blood boil.
"What will it take to get you to shut up?" She snarled, loathing the look of crazed laughter in his eyes as she slowly pressed the blade downwards. It was a somewhat awkward angle, and she had to saw a little, but it did the job, even though the deranged man never stopped laughing.
Jaime got to her feet, no less angry than she had been two minutes ago, kicking the body for good measure as the fool choked and died. It struck her then that everyone present had seen that rather unladylike display, but she truly couldn't bring herself to care.
She thought the day she ended any of Rorge, Shagwell or Zollo would be a day to celebrate, but now she just felt angry and embarrassed. Not at the way she'd killed two men herself in front of an audience, but at what they had managed to say before she had their tongues ripped out. Now half the men were looking at her like she was a delicate victim, which was actually worse than the half who were looking at her like she was deranged.
"Here," She gave the sword back to its owner, who took it with wide eyes, turning to address the group. "I think we can all agree that those men were the scum of the earth, and that every word that came out of their mouths was a filthy lie. Feel free to tell tales of how the wicked Kingslayer turned savage and brutally murdered two poor unsuspecting rapists, but if I hear a whisper of anything those men might have said before I opened their throats, whoever spread such lies will soon be going the same way,"
"If any of you doubt my lady mother," Orryn spoke, no trace of a smile in his voice. "I can promise that threat will be followed up on," Jaime nodded at him, briefly, before heading to her horse.
It took her three attempts to mount from the ground. She hadn't replied her legs were shaking so much, yet batted away the soldier who tried to help her. Once mounted, she drew her cloak out from her saddlebags, wrapping it around herself to hide the bloodstains.
"Here, milady," Sarsfield rode up beside her, offering her a waterskin, expression blessedly neutral as usual, no outward judgement or sympathy, which she was grateful for. Jaime nodded her thanks, using it to scrub the blood off her hands and face, before returning it, wheeling her horse around.
"Leave the bodies for the wolves," Was all she said as she trotted back to the road, unable to spend another second there.
"Mother," Jaime was seated around a fire that night when Orryn finally approached her. Brien and Sansa both nodded in respect, as did everyone else, but she herself simply stared into the fire. "Could you walk with me?"
"Of course, your Grace," She smiled, knowing it was a request rather than a command, getting smoothly to her feet.
"You don't have to call me that," Her son said quietly as they moved away from the group.
"I know," She looked him in the eye, looked up at him, the boy she had held in her arms as a babe not so long ago, the boy who was now king. There was a pause. "I'm sorry you had to witness that display earlier," It had hit her some time ago that that was the first time any of her children had seen her in a real fight. "It wasn't exactly something I'd wish for you to see,"
"Or hear?" She smiled grimly at his words.
"Or hear," Jaime looked at the path ahead of them. "You'll get used to being slandered as a king. People spew all kinds of shit from their mouths, though it's rarely as foul as that,"
"No one makes a man's death that bloody for slander alone," Orryn's voice was mostly level, though she caught the rage behind it, saw it in his blue eyes. Jaime found herself wondering what Stannis would have done in his son's place.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not," That was the closest she was going to get to the truth with him. "Regardless, the men are dead now, and the matter is of no one's concern but my own," That was clear enough, or so she thought, yet her son continued to speak on the matter.
"I understand why you don't want to talk about this with me, but there are things I can do. I can be a king rather than your son, when it comes to this," Those words would have chilled her, had she not seen the pain in his eyes, the determination to put things right. A bit late for that, I'm afraid. "Was it those two alone? If there were others, I can have them hunted down like the dogs they are,"
"Your grandfather is already seeing to the hunting down of their entire sellsword band," She said rather shortly, continuing at Orryn's raised eyebrow. You told him? "They betrayed him and delayed my return, that's reason enough," She hesitated. "And I only tell you this so you don't believe that half a hundred men had your mother, but yes, it was those two only," Three, actually, with one of them still out there, but what he doesn't know can't hurt him. "Now I never want to hear this spoken off again. If I had my way, you never would have known at all,"
"Fine," He nodded. "But Mother - " It was her son's turn to hesitate, and suddenly he looked less like a king and more like a boy again. "Are you alright?" Jaime took a breath.
"I'm fine now," She lied through her teeth, forcing a smile on her face. "I did rather worse to them today than they did to me," More lies; if Jaime had not had children to come back to, she would have fought with everything she had. She would have made them kill her, for it would be less awful than meekly submitting like just another weak woman for them to play with.
That night had been the worst of her life, worse than getting her breast cut off, worse than her brother turning on her, worse than being married off to a cold stranger, worse than anything Aerys had done, worse than the Whispering Wood, worse than Ashara's death. Even worse than the day her mother died.
For months she had been holding that truth away with hate, rage and a burning desire for vengeance, but now she did not even have that anymore. Such feelings seemed foolish when directed at two brutalised corpses. It was only now hitting her in full, when faced with her son who knew it all.
"Don't look at me like that," She hissed with rather more anger than intended, another thing that made her burn with shame.
"Like what?" Orryn frowned.
"Like I'm a victim," Jaime's jaw set. "I'm your mother. You should never look at me with pity,"
"Do you truly think I'd patronise you like that?" Her son asked. "You're seeing what you expect to see. If I'm giving you any look, it's more regret than anything. Regret that no one was there to stop that happening to you - that you have to keep it secret - that you didn't take more time killing them. I don't think any less of you, and anyone who would is a fool. You're still one of the toughest people I know,"
Her eyes were glassy by the end of that, but Jaime blinked it away, managing a weak smile.
"I'm not sure I like being called tough," She said. "It bring to mind old boot leather, and strict old matrons,"
"Well you're as far from matronly as can be, if that helps,"
"Thanks, I suppose," She turned to face him, pulling him into a hug that he returned easily. "Not too kingly for that, are you?"
"Perhaps not in front of the court," Jaime felt him smile.
"I agree. It can't be said that the King of the Seven Kingdoms is a mother's boy. Your father would turn in his grave," She paused. "Your grandfather would likely put you in one," Orryn chuckled, and they stepped apart. Her son seemed to hesitate.
"Ser Brien - "
"Is none of your business," She said flatly. He looked rather glad by that reply.
Robb Stark met them in the courtyard of Riverrun, wearing his crown.
Jaime would've laughed at the boy's nerve, had she not been watching her son - who was not wearing his own crown - carefully. Orryn, to his credit, didn't blink, merely dismounted his horse and walked forward as planned, Ser Aredan and Ser Arys at his side. The other important members of the group also dismounted; Uncle Kevan, Garlan Tyrell, Arthur, several higher up lords of the Stormlands, Reach and West, Jaime, Helia and finally Sansa, escorted by Brien.
"Lord Stark," He said, neither friendly nor unfriendly, but most importantly not condescending. This is their first meeting, she realised, remembering he was the only one of her children not to come to Winterfell. There was a moment where everyone tensed at the lack of kingly title in his address, but then Stark spoke.
"Your Grace," His tone was much the same as Orryn's, and he did not bow, nor incline his head. He glanced to his side. "May I introduce Lord Edmure and Ser Brynden Tully," Neither men moved. "My mother Lady Catelyn and my sister Arya," Lady Stark nodded distractedly, having seen Sansa, her eyes never leaving her daughter's face.
Jaime had been watching the woman's reaction, and her eyes widened a fraction as they saw the scruffy-haired, long-faced girl stood at her mother's side, reluctantly stuffed into a dress. Arya Stark, who by all rights should have ended up dead in a Flea Bottom gutter, had somehow survived and made it halfway across the kingdoms to her mother.
It was then that she saw the hulking figure of the Hound stood among Stark's men. Though that officially made him a traitor as well as a deserter, Jaime had rather liked Sandor Clegane - he had always enjoyed her visits to King's Landing to see Joffrey, mostly because they always involved her giving the boy a sharp dressing down - and was not going to make it an issue.
"My lords, my lady," Orryn nodded. "My granduncle Ser Kevan Lannister will be representing the Westerlands in these talks, my goodbrother Ser Garlan Tyrell the Reach and my younger brother, Lord Arthur Baratheon, the Stormlands. And of course, this is my mother, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, and my sister Helia,"
"My lady," Edmure was the only one to acknowledge Helia, nodded with a small smile, clearly not disappointed with his soon-to-be bride. The rest were all glowering at Jaime, who turned away from glowering at Edmure to give them all an infuriating look.
"We are quite familiar with Lady Jaime here," Stark ground out, clearly loathing the fact she technically had all the power of a queen. There was an uncomfortable silence, which she took it upon herself to break.
"As promised, Lady Stark," She smiled sharply at Lady Catelyn, gesturing theatrically back at Sansa. "Your daughter, safe and sound and happily unwed," Her marriage to Tyrion had been annulled shortly after he was declared innocent.
She was going to say something else, but Sansa was looking at her imploringly, so Jaime shrugged. The girl needed no more encouragement, letting out a stifled sob and running towards her mother.
Jaime turned away from their loving reunion, glancing at Brien. His eyes met hers, he hesitated a moment, looking torn, before following Sansa over to the Starks.
The official business was all very tense, of course, but in the end the treaty was signed and that was all that mattered. All hostages would be exchanged on both sides, Lannister forces would withdraw from the Riverlands as long as Stark and Tully stood down. Robb Stark would give up his crown, becoming Lord Paramount of the North, in exchange for a full pardon. The sword Ice would be returned to the Starks. Etcetera.
Then came the marriage arrangements. Helia would marry Edmure. Sansa would marry Arthur. Robb Stark, of course, had a wife already, some Westerling girl; though Jaime didn't know exactly what her father had been planning prior to Joffrey's death, given her illuminating conversation with Lord Bolton at Harrenhal, she knew better than Stark did exactly how close that match had nearly lost him the war. Lucky Orryn is a different kind of king.
The feast that night cleared the air ever so slightly, in that she now doubted they'd all suddenly start killing each other, which was progress from when they had arrived. It wasn't a lavish feast, given the fact the Lannisters had burned a large proportion of the Riverlands harvest, but there was adequate food and more than enough drink to get everyone loosening up a little, celebrating the end of the fighting.
Even if there was plenty of residual bitterness there towards the Lannisters, the men from the Stormlands and Reach had never fought the Starks, so by the end of the night most were getting along as well as could be expected.
At the high table things were a little more tense. Ser Kevan and the Blackfish seemed to be having a relatively civil but forced conversation, which eased up when Garlan Tyrell joined in.
It took a while for Orryn and a recently de-crowned Robb Stark to warm up to each other; Arthur's presence helped with that, having befriended Stark at Winterfell two years ago, and soon the three were engaged in an animated conversation about sparring that made those nearby remember that despite being three of the most powerful men in Westeros, kings and lords, not one was any older than sixteen.
Helia had been placed between Lady Catelyn and Edmure Tully. Catelyn spent the whole time talking to Sansa sat on her other side, as though reassuring herself her daughter was really here, which left Helia to talk to Edmure. She didn't look too impressed with her husband-to-be, not that anyone expected her to be, though at least she didn't seem to despite him.
And whichever fool had thought to put Jaime next to angry little Arya Stark deserved a day in the stocks.
"Are you going to glower at me the whole evening?" She raised an eyebrow at the girl.
"You're a Lannister," The girl replied promptly, Ned Stark's eyes glaring up at her, though Jaime wouldn't be exaggerating by calling that look homicidal. "I hate Lannisters. Your son killed my father,"
"That he did," Jaime said conversationally. "Joffrey was a little fool, and a monster to boot. He wasn't meant to kill Stark, only send him to the Wall," Arya's eyes widened momentarily, then she returned to glaring.
"I don't believe you,"
"Suit yourself. Believe it or not, I rather liked your father,"
"Why?" Came the suspicious reply. "He always said how he hated your brother. I hate your brother, even more than I hate you," Jaime didn't hear that often; to most, Cersen appeared charming and gracious and most importantly, powerful. Whereas she was the sharp-tongued, arrogant whore of a Kingslayer with a supposed string of murders to her name.
"I'm flattered," She said dryly. "I liked your father because when he found me sat on the Iron Throne with a bloody sword on my knees and a king's corpse at my feet, he didn't condemn me on sight. He also was the only one other than myself to challenge Robert for praising the murders of the Targaryen children," Arya was quiet for a moment, digesting that.
"You killed the Mad King with a sword?" Of all the things she picked out of that... "I thought you stabbed him in the back while fucking him," She choked on her wine, and Arya looked rather satisfied, having clearly been trying to shock her. But then Jaime laughed.
"Don't let your mother hear you talking like that," She shook her head, amused, not missing the reluctant twitch of the girl's lips that was quickly covered by another furious scowl. "How old are you, ten? Do you even know what that means?"
"I'm eleven, not a baby. Of course I know what it means, I've lived as an orphan boy for a year,"
"That you have," She took another sip of wine, considering her.
"So?"
"So what?"
"Can you really fight with a sword?"
"Ask your mother about that," Jaime said. "She was at the Whispering Wood. I killed seven men in front of her and injured at least that number as well,"
"Seven Stark men," Arya accused.
"Don't give me that. As if you wouldn't fight back against Lannister soldiers trying to capture you and kill your own men," She snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised if you'd had to fight back already," The girl looked away. "Oh, so you have? Am I right in thinking your Lady mother doesn't know?"
"Don't you dare tell her," She snapped angrily. "Or I'll sneak into your room in the night and - " She broke off abruptly, seeming to remember where she was - a feast celebrating a peace treaty - and who she was talking to.
"And what?" Jaime chuckled. "I guarantee before you reached my bed I'd be awake with a dagger in hand," Aerys and the Bloody Mummers had made her a light sleeper. "You might know how to get by with that little knife you're hiding in your dress," She ignored Arya's glower that she'd noticed that. "But I was trained to use a sword by Gerion Lannister and Arthur Dayne, and have practised every day I was able for the past twenty five years. You wouldn't win,"
"Well I trained with the First Sword of Braavos," Arya shot back. "Syrio Forel. And I have a sword, it's called Needle,"
"I'm guessing your mother doesn't know about that either," She said dryly.
The girl scowled.
"No. You'd better not tell her - "
"Or you'll kill me in my sleep, I know," Jaime humoured her. "Why would I tell her? That's what she'd want me to do. I liked Ned Stark, but have little love for his wife,"
"I heard you call Joffrey a monster," Arya said. "I'll tell everyone you said that, if you do tell her,"
"Gods, if you're going to blackmail me, do it properly," She shook her head. "Everyone knows what I thought of Joff. Do you want a real secret?" Arya tried to not look too interested. "See that knight over there. The big one,"
"The one who brought Sansa home? With a face like the back end of a cow?"
"That's the one. I once tried to kill him at a bad time. Not only did I lose, the fight I started got us captured by sellswords. Tell him I admitted that and I really will tell your mother everything," The girl blinked.
"I thought you were going to say you're fucking him," Jaime choked on her wine again. She really needed to time her sips better.
"How do you know that?" She said, coughing.
"He's been making disgusting eyes this way all evening," Arya wrinkled her nose. "Like Sansa used to make at Joffrey, before he chopped Father's head off, like a lovestruck deer. Only... worse," She had to laugh. Brien was anything but subtle.
By the end of the meal, Arya was no longer even glaring daggers at her. After the food was gone, people began to move onto the space cleared for dancing, as the minstrels picked up a livelier tune. Jaime was considering asking Robb Stark to dance just to see the look on his face, or perhaps even Edmure Tully - it would be a good time to threaten him over Helia - but before she had the chance to move away from the table, she was waylaid by Lady Stark.
Glancing to her right, Jaime saw Arya had disappeared, silently slipped away. The girl was wise. And surprisingly sneaky. That felt like a good thing to remember.
"My lady," Lady Catelyn's voice was rather sour, but grudgingly grateful.
"Lady Catelyn, what a pleasure," Jaime smiled sharply. "Here to make me swear any more oaths at sword-point? Or here to get me blind-drunk again and shove me into the bottom of a boat?"
"Let us not bother with pleasantries," Is that what you call this? Catelyn pursed her lips, clearly still disliking her intensely. The feeling was more than mutual. "I am here to thank you for fulfilling your oath to return my daughter to me, as courtesy demands,"
"No more, no less," Jaime said dryly. Catelyn ignored her.
"I doubt we will ever see eye to eye," She continued, taking a deep breath. "Or even like each other. Too much has occurred between our two families for friendship to be possible,"
"My son taking off your husband's head, and your brother leaving me to rot in the bowels of this very castle for months," Jaime said amiably. The other woman's eyes narrowed. She knew the words Catelyn wanted to say - 'after you killed a dozen good men' - and it was rather amusing to watch her struggle to hold them back.
"Exactly that," The woman's tone was cold, her mouth unsmiling. "But seeing as your daughter is to marry my brother, and my daughter is to marry your son... I would appreciate a mutual understanding. I will never not find you insufferable, my lady, but can we agree to be courteous at the very least?"
"You do not wish us to end up as the two bitter old crones sniping and bickering at the dinner table to the despair of our children?" Jaime smirked slightly. "Very well. Your definition of courtesy is likely different to mine, but I'll play nicely as best I can,"
Catelyn opened her mouth, but clearly realised that was the best she was going to get, as her next question was undoubtedly not what she wanted to say.
"In which case, how did you fare on your journey to King's Landing?" The woman asked. "I heard you were detained by a sellsword band that betrayed your father," She didn't sound too sorry about that.
Oh, but Jaime had to be careful here. As Roose Bolton was currently sat several seats down the table very much possessing his head, likely the Starks did not know of whatever sinister plan he was cooking up with Lord Tywin before Orryn ascended the throne. She wasn't going to be the fool to let that one slip.
"Sad to say we were," She said. "We wouldn't have been, had the knight you sent with me not been too stubborn to give me a sword,"
"Can you blame him?" Lady Catelyn narrowed her eyes.
"No, given I tried my best to kill him when I did get one," She grinned, and the other woman's eyebrows shot up. "Though I believe when the sellswords found us he was holding me face down in the river, so it was hardly a one-sided affair,"
"Ser Brien tried to drown you?" Catelyn frowned, then shook her head, lip curling slightly. "I shouldn't be surprised. After a day in your company I might try the same, let alone weeks," Jaime laughed genuinely at that, rather surprised, and even Catelyn gave the smallest of grudging smiles.
"As pleasant as this little talk has been," She said. "I fear I must dance with your brother," At the woman's puzzled expression she elaborated, smiling sharply. "By that I mean put the fear of the Stranger into him," Not waiting for a response, she made a beeline for Lord Tully.
Jaime danced with Edmure, who left her a little paler than he was when she had approached him for all that he blustered indignantly at her words. A job well done. He would treat Helia like the almost-princess she was if he knew what was good for him, which she had made quite certain he had.
She also danced with Robb Stark, whom she was quite surprised accepted her invitation, only for him to glower even more than Arya had done and let her know how displeased he was at Sansa's mistreatment at the hands of Cersen and Joffrey. Jaime had raised an eyebrow and asked if he was planning on showing Helia where they had kept her mother for months.
She managed to make the Blackfish give a harsh bark of laughter by recounting some of the unpleasantness that had met her after escaping Riverrun, the whole time sending sly looks at Brien whenever she span past the corner he was seated in with several other household knights.
"So how long did it take to get him to break," Ser Brynden asked flatly after this had happened several times.
"I don't know what you mean, ser," Jaime didn't even try to sound innocent, given this one would just scoff.
"Of course not," He scoffed anyway. "I'm surprised he came back here. And I'm frankly astounded that you did,"
"Killing one king doesn't mean I break all my promises,"
"It is telling of your character, however,"
"Which is?" She smiled sharply.
"It's hard to think of a word to describe the woman that breaks her marriage vows with her own brother and conspires to murder her nephews, goodbrother and husband to get her incestuous bastard on the throne. You hardly stopped at one king,"
"Most settle for calling me a whore," Jaime didn't even bother to deny his accusations, seeing as he'd never believe her. "It's less longwinded. Though people tend to call me Lady Regent now. To my face, at least,"
"I suppose 'whore' sums it all up nicely,"
She smiled at him, then made an intentionally abrupt misstep, causing his hand on her waist to slip considerably lower than was appropriate.
"Ser Brynden!" Jaime gave a mock gasp. "Calling me a whore doesn't make me one. That's no way to treat the king's mother, in the middle of a crowded hall, no less," Her voice wasn't loud enough to carry far, but a couple of people did look around at them.
The man snatched his hand back, glaring at her, but she had timed it well and the song had just ended. With a grin Jaime pulled away from him, happy to have had the last word, making a beeline towards Brien.
"How about a dance, ser?"
They made it through exactly one dance before she made the assessment that everyone who mattered was either in bed or drunk enough to not notice her slipping out of the hall with the young knight.
The next day was monotonous. There was more to be discussed about the treaty, though this was simply finer details to be niggled over by lords, and Jaime was bored to tears. She had to be present given she was the Regent, and did make an effort to listen, but after another hour of pointless bickering she gave up. Uncle Kevan was there to note anything of note and report back to her father, who surely wouldn't be relying on her for such things.
Talks concluded in the mid-afternoon, and Jaime was returning to her rooms, thinking about getting changed and finding some place to spar, when she heard her name be called.
"Lady Jaime," She didn't even try to hide her groan as an irate Lady Catelyn strode towards her, though that soon turned to a sly smile as she saw an equally irritated-looking Arthur following reluctantly behind her. "Why is it that you never taught your son that it is improper to be rolling around in the dirt with a highborn lady?"
"Rolling around in what sense, my lady?" She asked, pretending to be shocked. Arthur laughed, clearly finding the whole thing a waste of time, whilst Catelyn glared. "Apologies. Do go on,"
"I came across your son and my younger daughter Arya covered in dirt and dust in the godswood," She said. "Hitting each other with sticks. Arya is wild enough as it is, and doesn't need any encouragement,"
"I was teaching her to fight," Arthur protested. "My lady," He added with a glance at Jaime, remembering his manners. "She asked me to. She's not bad, either," He sounded rather admiring. Bless.
"Of course she asked you to," Lady Catelyn said sharply. "I would not mind if it were my sons you were teaching, but Arya is a lady, and has no need for fighting with swords. It is up to you to refuse her,"
"Isn't Arya the one that recently spent a year fending for herself in the war-torn Riverlands?" Jaime raised an eyebrow. "I barely survived months of that, my lady, and I am one of the best swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms. Have you spoken about what happened to her?"
"Of course I have," Lady Catelyn narrowed her eyes. "What kind of mother do you take me for?"
"She'll have left bits out," Jaime said. "I know I left out a great deal when my father and children asked of what happened to me upon my return to King's Landing. I wouldn't be surprised if your sweet little daughter has killed a man or two herself,"
"Don't be ridiculous, she's barely eleven,"
"I saw the body of a girl near as young as that hung in a tree on the road to King's Landing," She said bluntly. "Around her neck hung a sign saying 'they lay with lions'. Ser Brien will tell you, he tried to bury the bodies before your river galley caught up with us,"
"What are you trying to do, drive me out of my mind with worry?" Catelyn glared at her, but Jaime saw her eyes were glassy.
"No," She shrugged. "Just saying that it isn't a bad idea to let your daughter learn to fight, if she wishes. She's never going to be a perfect lady - I remember her from Winterfell and she was a wild thing then, let alone after the past two years,"
"As if any husband would let her fight with a sword,"
"Stannis Baratheon allowed me to," Jaime shrugged. "And he was the most uptight, lawfully-minded man I've met. And as much as I despised Robert, I'm sure he would have let Lyanna Stark fight as well. He'd have found it amusing. You'd be surprised, I think, at what men are willing to put up with. And if they aren't, well," She smiled toothily. "If you're good enough, who's going to stop you?"
"I'd let my wife use a sword," Arthur shrugged. "Not that Sansa would want to," Catelyn caught Jaime's eye at that, she suspected with the same thought she had herself. There was a pause.
"Arthur, go," She waved a hand. Her son didn't need telling twice, taking the opportunity of Lady Catelyn's silence and running off, no doubt back to his new little shadow. "Am I right in thinking your sweet Lady Sansa would rather have a calmer and less obnoxious husband than my third son? And that after all the trauma my family have put her through, that she'd rather stay as far away from the south and King's Landing as possible?"
"I think you are," Catelyn sighed. "How old is Arthur?"
"Thirteen. That's only two years difference,"
"Do you think it matters which Stark daughter is sent south in three years?"
"I can't imagine so. The wedding can wait until Arya's sixteen. She can spend two years at Storm's End beforehand," They eyed each other.
"The best chance I have of getting Arya to marry anyone is if her betrothed is someone she considers a friend," Catelyn sighed. "I doubt it's a good thing if Lord and Lady Baratheon are both as bad as each other, but really, I don't think I'd be able to get her into a wedding gown unless she knew her husband wouldn't try and force her to be a proper lady,"
"Arthur would prefer marrying someone he doesn't have to watch himself around," Jaime said, then grinned. "He'll take the news rather well, I think. Please let me know how telling sweet Lady Arya goes,"
Arthur did indeed take the news well, grinning widely.
"Not that I didn't want to marry Sansa," He said hurriedly. "She's very pretty. But Arya is a lot more fun. And I think she likes me more than Sansa does. I didn't stand by and watch her get beaten by Joffrey's men," At least one thirteen year old boy has their priorities right.
Jaime was up early the next day, to spar with Sarsfield and Brien, before both knights had to attend Orryn and Lady Catelyn respectively. Arthur was there too, the only one there who had yet to beat her, though he had beaten the Lord Commander once before, which he had crowed about for days.
She was on form that morning; although she didn't win every match, she won a considerable proportion, which with these two was very good indeed. Riverrun was a relatively small castle, with no private yard, so their little group attracted rather a lot of stares training in the same area the rest of the knights did. Plenty of glares and muttering too, given many still remembered her failed attempt at escape, not to mention the Whispering Wood.
She had just knocked Sarsfield's sword out of his hand, breathing heavily after a hard-won match, when she heard the voice of the Blackfish call out to her.
"You know, I wondered at the time why Tywin Lannister's twelve year old daughter was so interested in my tales of battles and swordplay," Jaime looked up, rather surprised. "Then I wondered how the Kingslayer was able to kill or injure a dozen hardened soldiers at the Whispering Wood when she looks like she sits around all day brushing her hair,"
"Seems you have your answer, ser," She looked over to Arthur, who was fighting Brien; he refused to spar with her here, which Jaime did not object to. Being beaten by their mother wasn't an ideal reputation for any boy to have, let alone Lord Baratheon.
"I've heard it said that young Lord Arthur had his Uncle Robert's fighting skills," Ser Brynden was following her stare. "I'm not sure about that. He fights like you. Speed and agility rather than brute strength and power,"
"He has to, he's a six foot beanpole,"
"And you don't even have his reach. How is it you manage to win against men like the Lord Commander?"
"What about Ser Brien? I beat him too,"
"I'm sure the sight of you wearing those breeches does half the work for you with that one," He said rather scornfully. She grinned. "So how is it you prevail against Ser Aredan?"
"I can show you if you wish," She raised an eyebrow, ignoring the childish leap of excitement her stomach gave at the prospect of fighting the Blackfish. He barked a laugh.
"How do I know I won't end up with a practice sword buried in my back, Kingslayer,"
"Come on, Ser Brynden, have you so little faith in your skills?" She looked up at him with a wicked smile. "Surely the famous Blackfish is not such an old man that he couldn't beat a lady half his size?" The knight sighed, reaching for a spare practice sword.
"I'm not doing this because you insulted my pride," He warned her, weighing the blade in his hands before settling into a fighting stance. Grinning, Jaime did the same. "I'm doing it because I'm curious. And to see if we should get some better guards," He struck first, without warning, catching her off guard enough to make her blocking strike clumsy.
Then came an onslaught of blows, fast and heavy, forcing her back several steps. Jaime was forced to get over her star-struck foolishness, quickly finding her footing and focusing only on the fight. The man wasn't going easy on her, and age had barely diminished the power and skill behind his blows; the speed that had faded slightly was more than made up for by the wealth of experience behind the blade, and the viciousness of his attack. No doubt he would relish in the chance to knock her into the dirt.
Jaime gritted her teeth and gave as good as she got. This was everything she wanted in a spar, a challenge even to keep up, no need to hold back. There was no doubt she was faster and more agile than the ageing knight, but he was stronger, taller, more experienced, and hated her a lot more than she hated him.
Ser Brynden landed a good few blows on her - she would have purple bruises blooming within the hour - but she got just as many hits on him. In his prime, Jaime would go as far to say that she and the Blackfish would be evenly matched, at the same experience and physical fitness. Now, however, he was twenty years older than she was.
That was most likely the deciding factor in her win. A rather overenthusiastic blow aimed at her ribs swung him a little off balance as she dodged it, and she used that chance to hit him in the knee, making him stumble. That split second cost him the match, and her sword was at his throat in the blink of an eye.
They both stood there breathing heavily for a moment, Jaime trying not to look too pleased with herself for once, suddenly feeling the uncharacteristic need to be a good sport.
Then suddenly his blade came up, a sharp rap on her wrist, and her own sword was no longer in her hand, flying through the air as she felt the cold steel at her own throat. She gave a ragged laugh as a cheer went up from the crowd that had formed, mostly Riverrun men as the majority of the Baratheon, Lannister and Tyrell knights were camped outside the walls with their men.
"Who won that?" She heard Arthur ask Brien, who shrugged.
"You'd be dead if that was a real fight," Jaime said to the Blackfish with no real malice.
"Not if you hesitated like you did then. Then it would be your blood on the end of my sword. Who knew your vile exterior hid a soft woman's heart," His smirk told her he wasn't serious.
"Perhaps," She grinned. "A good match, though. Glad to see your skills haven't turned to rot in your old age," She went to retrieve her sword, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Ser Brynden leant down to mutter in her ear.
"Good thing you were born a woman. You'd cut a bloody swathe on a battlefield as it is, let alone with the height and reach of your brother, and a knight's experience," Her eyes widened, and for once she had no reply. Was that... a compliment?
The Blackfish drew back with a raised eyebrow.
"I still don't like you, Kingslayer, and likely never will," He spoke at a normal volume. "But it would amuse me greatly to see you go up against some of these men here," He raised his voice, gesturing at the watching knights and soldiers with a grin that made him look much younger. "Anyone think they can do better than I did against Lady Lannister, boys? Step up for your turn,"
Silence, for a moment, two, three. Then Jaime broke it with a laugh, picking up her sword.
"None of them want to risk being beaten by a woman," Amused, she turned back to Brien, who met her suddenly raised blade with barely a blink.
Brynden Tully's words got her thinking, about what if she was born Tywin Lannister's eldest son, and Cersen was the lady. She had never particularly desired to be a boy... more wished she was allowed to train openly with the young squires during her youth, rather than having to hide and fear her father's discovery.
For a moment Jaime felt a stab of longing, imagining herself as growing up with a sword in her hand, her skills recognised and praised rather than met with disapproval and scorn.
Then she realised that not much would be too different after all. Her father would still have married her off to a stranger - likely Lysa, which was truly revolting - and expected her to have lots of sons, only she would have the added responsibility of being the heir to Casterly Rock, a thought that she found distasteful. She wouldn't have made a good heir. Her brother was always better at things like that, or thought he was at any rate.
Cersen... Her twin would despise being a woman. Cersen being married off and expected to bear children and obey a husband was unthinkable. And rather amusing. Would Cersen have killed Aerys, had he been in her place during the Rebellion? Likely not.
Gods, that would mean King's Landing would've been blown sky-high by wildfire, everyone in the city - including Cersen and her father - with it.
It was likely for the best things had turned out how they did.
It wasn't the wedding Jaime would have wished for her daughter. Nor the wedding Helia would have wished for herself, but to her credit the girl seemed to be making the best of things. Edmure Tully was hardly a bad-looking man, she pointed out. Arthur had snickered, remarking that the whores and tavern wenches of the Riverlands clearly didn't think so either.
Jaime had remarked then that at least he'd know where to stick it, laughing as she made them both blush, choosing to refrain from noting that her first husband most likely hadn't even known that much. The second husband certainly would, but she was hardly awaiting her own wedding night with eager anticipation.
She was there with Helia and her maids the morning of the wedding, helping her to get ready. Her daughter looked beautiful, inches taller than she was and willowy, with handsome features and glossy black hair arranged in braids piled atop her head, almost like a crown. She looked like a woman grown, rather than a girl of barely fifteen.
Though she was still a child, innocent despite the mature front she presented to everyone. She had her mother's sharp tongue and mocking smile, but Jaime knew too well what that expression hid. She saw Helia's eyes, and they were scared.
"I was sick to the stomach on the morning of my wedding," She told her once the maids left, being brutally honest for once. The girl could take it. "I asked Cersen to take me away, to leave it all behind," Helia grimaced, understandably. "He refused, of course, but said he'd be there for the bedding ceremony, to make sure no one laid a hand on me,"
Then he gathered up my wedding skirts and took me hard against a desk, before leaving in a sulk without another word.
"When the cry for the bedding went up, he stormed out of the hall. I had to put up with Robert taking his place," It was her turn to grimace. "My point is, your wedding will be much better than mine. You're doing better than I was already," By turning up to the wedding a maid, having not lain with your twin brother hours before. "Arthur won't leave your side during the bedding ceremony. I'll be there for the feast. And like I said before, at least your husband will know where to stick it,"
"Mother," Helia protested, though it was rather half-hearted, and she gave a rather choked laugh. For once there were no comments about how she didn't want to hear things like that from her mother.
"If he hurts you, tell him," Jaime's grin faded. "No suffering in silence, I don't care what your septa says. If he doesn't listen, come to me. And if he ever tries to force you, you remember what I taught you..." She smiled grimly, and her daughter gave a short nod.
"I can't stab my husband," Helia smiled then, amused despite herself. "I'll just remind him my brother is the king, who can take away his titles at a whim. And if that fails, I'll remind him that my mother is the Kingslayer, and Lady Regent at that,"
Jaime chuckled, trying to ignore how much the rather dull look in her daughter's eyes hurt her, how her normally wicked smile was rather weak, how she quite clearly did not want to marry this man. The hypocrisy of it suddenly struck her; how could she, who had been raped by four different men, send her clearly unwilling daughter off to sleep with a stranger.
"You don't have to lay with him tonight," She found herself saying, not caring that her father would disagree with every word. "You're young, he can at least wait until you're sixteen without there being an issue. I can talk to him, get him to stay with his whores for the time being," Helia's brave face dropped, and for an awful moment Jaime thought her proud, stubborn daughter might cry.
"Every girl feels this way on her wedding night," Her eyes were glassy but no tears fell. "Father would have said it's my duty as a wife. Grandfather would say it's my duty to my house. Uncle Robert would be confused as to why I didn't want to in the first place,"
"They're all men," Jaime said. "And lords, at that. They don't know what it's like to feel helpless,"
"Like you've ever felt helpless," Helia smiled, bemused. "You're the best swordsman I've ever seen. What man could lay a hand on you, if you didn't let them?" Oh sweetling... Out of everything, that was what brought Jaime closest to tears. Helia, for once, was so blissfully ignorant, and there was no way in the seven hells that she was going to disillusion her.
Not trusting herself to respond to that appropriately, instead she returned to her original point.
"Helia. Say the word, and I will make sure no one lays a hand on you tonight," For once, there was no hint of a smile on her face. Her daughter thought it through for a moment or two, then smiled regretfully.
"Thank you, mother. But I'm too much my father's daughter to let you do that,"
Jaime swallowed.
"You're braver than I ever was," She said, placing a hand on Helia's shoulder and looking at their reflection in the mirror. "Taller too," There was now near two inches between them. Her daughter gave a small laugh.
"I think it's time to go,"
The wedding wasn't a particularly fancy affair by high lord's standards, which in truth was better than the spectacle Joffrey's wedding was reported to have been. Jaime watched unsmiling throughout the ceremony as Orryn walked her down the aisle and Edmure Tully draped a blue and red cloak around Helia's shoulders.
She supposed it was a good thing no one was murdered at any point during the day, which given the company, was a miracle in itself.
The feast was... a feast. Helia changed into a gown of Tully blue and Baratheon gold, which suited her far more than the white of her wedding dress. Good thing she's not marrying a Stark...
Orryn and Robb Stark seemed to get along well now, even if they weren't quite friends, which made things less tense at the high table. Lady Catelyn was less of a sour old cow now she had her daughters returned to her. Perhaps due to her mother's smothering, Arya had snuck away with Arthur to gods know where halfway through.
Any other children and Jaime would've been suspicious, but they really were most likely going to spar with wooden swords. It was rather sweet really, if amusing; she would certainly be teasing her third son about it at a later date, as Helia had been doing for days.
Edmure was trying with his young bride at least, engaging Helia in conversation wherever he could and clearly restraining himself from joining in on the bawdy comments many of the knights and lords shouted their way. Helia sat tall and proud, every bit a Baratheon lady with Lannister blood, though her smiles were weak. Still nervous, even though she hid it well.
Jaime spent the evening exchanging (somewhat less venomous) barbs with the Blackfish, ensuring Helia was still alright and dancing with various men, never running out of partners; it seemed dancing with a beautiful woman outweighed their dislike of the Kingslayer. It was ironic, really, that they would all call her a whore behind her back but would not hesitate to jump into bed with her if she offered.
Of course the inevitable call for the bedding ceremony came before the night ended. Jaime remained seated, as did Lady Catelyn. They were some of the few that remained. Even Robb Stark had gone - she wasn't sure why that was surprising, but it was - though Orryn was sat some way down the table still. Brien had gone with them at Jaime's request, to ensure no one took too many liberties, like Robert had done at her own wedding.
"Aren't you going to join them, my lady?" She asked Catelyn only slightly mockingly.
"I have no wish to see my brother disrobed, let alone assist with the disrobing," The lady replied, wrinkling her nose slightly. Jaime raised an eyebrow, and her eyes widened as she realised what she'd said, and to who. "I know you won't believe that wasn't intentional, but for the sake of civility I did not mean - " Catelyn broke off as she laughed, the woman's rather weary look actually fading into a faint, regretful smile.
"In truth, I believe that is the reason Orryn stayed," Jaime glanced at her son. "Probably wise, given those nasty rumours about twins in our family,"
"Rumours, yes," The other woman disapprovingly took a sip of wine, clearly remembering their conversation in the dungeon all those months ago. Jaime chose to ignore that, the amusement suddenly leaving her at the sounds of a particularly loud cheer from the halls above. "You don't look happy to see your daughter wed, Lady Jaime," Catelyn remarked. "Edmure is a good match, no matter how you dislike our house,"
"I suppose a floppy fish is better than a husband who is violent and cruel," She conceded. "Or one like Robert. I simply recall how much I loathed my own wedding, and I was years Helia's elder at the time, and hardly a maid, marrying a man near enough my age. How would you like to see your sweet innocent Sansa wed my brother?"
"That's different," Catelyn didn't ask which brother she meant; to her, Tyrion and Cersen were as bad as the other. "Your brothers are both despicable,"
"One, perhaps," Jaime smiled rather tightly, not missing the woman's flash of surprise at that. I wouldn't leave Myrcella alone in a room with Cersen. "But that shows you do understand. I find your brother as repulsive as you find mine. Hence why I am not smiling like a fool at the idea of such a man bedding my daughter as we speak,"
Catelyn opened her mouth, most likely to protest, but Jaime was done with this conversation and got to her feet.
"I have sat through about as much of the evening as I can stomach. Goodnight, Lady Stark," She smiled sharply. "You'll sleep better than me, I fear, though both our beds are cold and empty," Brien was standing outside Helia's marriage chambers all night; he had offered before Jaime could ask. No doubt he had asked permission from his mistress Lady Catelyn. She scoffed slightly at the thought.
"Goodnight, Lady Lannister," Came the rather cold reply. Jaime didn't bother correcting her, turning to leave the hall and not looking back.
Starting to tie up some loose ends in this chapter. I've seen several reviews/comments about Cersen's future plans - unfortunately this story is coming to an end, and was only meant to be a bit of fun in the first place, otherwise I would be all for drawn out, complex plots and conspiracies. As it is, there will probably only be 2-3 chapters after this one, as this was never meant to be a long story.
How did everyone find the end of Rorge and Shagwell? Fitting or a bit much? Also the Arthur/Arya match, or was Arthur/Sansa better?
Thanks to all readers, and everyone who reviewed/commented!