Jaime

Whenever he wasn't in the company of his sister or the other commanders, Jaime was constantly getting beaten by Bronn in their sparring with one dirty tactic after another. He was kneeling on the ground in their training yard, clutching at his chest that was struck multiple times by a tourney sword. He looked up at Bronn, who as always, looked amused at his 'great victory.' "You seem especially happy today." Jaime grunted as he stood up, recovering from his injury.

"S'not every day you get to beat a Lannister with a hand made out of gold. Oh, wait a minute, yes it is." Bronn laughed his famous chuckle as he tossed Jaime's sparring sword back to him. Bronn twirled his own sword in his hand before taking his stance, ready for another match.

Jaime stretched his shoulders around for a moment before taking his own stance, waiting for Bronn to make the first move. Jaime knew this would end up like every other match had with Bronn standing over him while he would be defeated by his own hand. Bronn finally took the first swing, aiming low for Jaime's left leg. The swing was purposefully slow, but still at a speed that was challenging for Jaime. He parried the strike and took the offensive, aiming for Bronn's upper body.

Bronn was allowing Jaime to be the attacker, easily parrying any strike that was swung. Jaime decided to use this opportunity to play by Bronn's rules. In almost every duel, Jaime had kept his right hand tucked closed to his body to keep it out of the way, but the moment Bronn left an opening to his right shoulder, Jaime swung his sword up. But when Bronn caught the blade with his own, Jaime swung his golden hand in between Bronn's legs, earning a grunt out of him when he struck.

Bronn was caught off guard before Jaime backhanded him in the face. For the first time, Jaime defeated Bronn in a duel. He couldn't help but feel some pride in this moment.

"You're learning," Bronn said before he swept his leg behind Jaime's feet, causing him to fall on his back. Before he could get up, Bronn was over him with his dagger at Jaime's chest. "But you're still just a fancy lad in a duel." He pulled his dagger away and offered his hand to Jaime. He accepted the help, but as he was being pulled up, Bronn brought his other hand to Jaime's face, punching him back to the ground. Jaime grunted as he ay on the stone tiles. "My point proven exactly."

All of a sudden, the sound of clapping could be heard from the steps that led to the private training grounds. Jaime and Bronn both glanced to the source and saw the leader of the Golden Company, Captain Harry Strickland. He was a man in his mid-thirties with long, brown braided hair. His short beard was a lighter color and was starting to grey. His build was very good for a sellsword of his age. He wasn't dressed in his armor though. Instead he wore a navy blue long coat that had no sleeves, exposing his arms that only wore leather bracers. At the collar of the coat was a pin of three golden skulls, all connected by a golden sword piercing through them. At his hip were two swords. His main sword was a falchion with a pommel of skulls and as gold as his company. The other sword was actually a short sword, sheathed in a leather scabbard. The hilt was not beautiful like Harry's falchion. All it had for a handle was fabric wrapped around the tang.

When Harry was done clapping, he walked up to Jaime and offered his hand to him. This time however, Jaime refused it, getting on his feet by himself. "Captain Strickland." Jaime addressed.

"Harry, my lord. The only ones who call me Captain are my men." His voice was deep and course. One could mistake him to have a Northern accent. Harry brought his hands behind his back, assuming a gallant pose. "I heard talk that you're planning on a truce with the Targaryen Queen and the King in the North."

Such information wasn't private, so of course he would've found out. "It's a possibility. My brother claims there's an even bigger problem coming from beyond the Wall."

"Ah yes, I've heard about Wildlings before. didn't think they could pose much of a threat. But enough numbers can be overwhelming."

"As much as I wish it were Wildlings, it's not since they're all south of the Wall."

This was obviously puzzling to Harry. "I thought the Wall was meant to keep them out."

"It was, but then the Night's Watch kept claiming that an Army of the Dead was coming." Jaime spoke with all the doubt he could. But there was a small part of him that couldn't help but be curious to know whether or not it was true. "Tyrion said he'll have proof soon enough. Until then, we're doing what we can to sure up our defenses."

"It would seem so, but with the odds we're at, I'm surprised that your sister hasn't surrendered."

"She's not one to give up easily."

"I noticed, though I must warn you, I hope the battle comes soon. Our elephants are meant for the heat of Essos. I don't think they'll fair well in the snow when it falls."

"Then it's a good thing they're in Dorne. The snows that reach there are only light flurries and melt quickly." Wanting to change the subject, Jaime found the only thing about Harry that caught his attention. "Interesting choice of weapon, though with what you're getting paid, I'm surprised you don't get a proper hilt made for your sword." Jaime looked down at Harry's short sword, earning a grin from him.

"I could, but I never use it anyway." Harry drew the sword out of the leather scabbard and offered it to Jaime.

As he took it in his hand, he was able to get a closer look at it. The width of the blade was like a bastard sword and the length was half of the same. It wasn't until the reflection of the sun left the steel did he notice an important detail about it. "Valyrian steel?"

Harry nodded to him, confirming his guess. "That there is all that remains of the sword Blackfyre."

Blackfyre? That was both impressive and a bit of a child's dream come true for Jaime. He once desired to go off on a journey like his uncle Gerion to find a lost Valyrian sword. And now, he held the remains of a legendary sword in his hand. "I thought the sword was lost after the First Blackfyre Rebellion."

"No, just taken away to Essos by Aegor Bittersteel. The sword's been passed down to each leader of the Golden Company ever since then."

"What happened to the rest of the sword?" Bronn asked. "Seems like a complete waste to just use only half of what it was."

"My predecessor, Myles Blackheart Toyne, had an encounter with Ser Arthur Dayne. He was outskilled of course, but Myles was able to cut through one of Dayne's swords like butter with Blackfyre. Then finally, Dayne's final strike with his sword, Dawn, cut right through Blackfyre as it had just done. Myles surrendered and was shown mercy by the young Kingsguard. Ever since then, he never returned to Westeros. As for the half with the hilt, even I don't know the answer to that mystery."

Jaime looked at the blade again before remembering what Harry said about it. "Why don't you use it?"

"It's something I do. Figure I'll get a song sung about it someday."

Bronn snorted at his statement. "What a wonderful song it will be. A Mercenary captain who never used Valyrian steel. Title could use some work."

"I never use it because my enemies always do. Before a battle, I offer Blackfyre to them. If they refuse to take it, they accept surrender, and all is well."

"And if they take it?" Bronn asked.

"Then I'll see them on the battlefield and take back what's mine from their cold, dead fingers."

Jaime's brow arched, slightly impressed by the captain, but only slightly. He held the sword back to Harry, finished with his inspection. "You say Arthur Dayne did this with the sword Dawn?"

"I'd imagine a knight like you would know the story about that sword." Harry said as he took Blackfyre back and sheathed it.

"I do. It was forged from the metal found in a fallen star where Starfall was raised."

Harry grinned at Jaime's knowledge, tilting his eyes up to the sky. "Valyrian steel was like a gift from the dragons. Whatever metal made that sword was a gift from the gods." He bowed his head to both Jaime and Bronn. "Good day, my lords." Harry walked away, back up the stairs to the city.

Bronn walked up next to Jaime, impressed. "First sellsword I've met with a sense of honor."

"They seem to be scarcer than men like Ned Stark."

Cersei's handmaiden, Bernadette, passed Harry down the steps, approaching Jaime and Bronn. "Ser Jaime, Queen Cersei demands your presence in the Small Council." Jaime nodded to her and he and Bronn left the training court, done for the day.

Instead of at a table, the Small Council resided at the large map of Westeros Cersei had painted on the floor in the Red Keep. Cersei stood next to Ser Gregor Clegane, his presence more darkening than when he was in the Kingsguard gold and white, over by the Crownlands. Qyburn stood across from them over the Westerlands.

When Jaime and Bronn entered, they were at the shores of Dorne, Harry Strickland close behind them. "Ser Bronn," Cersei said, "thank for escorting Ser Jaime, but your presence will not be required for the rest of the day."

"Just as good, your grace." Bronn told them. "I have my own business to attend to anyways. There's a beautiful woman in a brothel calling my name." No one gained any amusement from him, but he didn't care as he left Jaime to the others.

Cersei walked over to the North. Looking down at Winterfell. "We have a problem," she addressed, "we've just received word that the bastard of Winterfell has married the Dragon whore." Cersei was never short of insult when it came to her enemies. "With the North under her control, it won't be long until we're surrounded from the North and the south."

"There's also the Iron Fleet," Jaime reminded. "Now that Theon Greyjoy's taken command, Euron has only just over a hundred under his command. Combined with our own ships, we don't even have two hundred."

"Yes, I know!" Cersei exclaimed. "The fool was so busy trying to look like a god to his men, he forgot that he's only a rat." She turned her gaze to the southern kingdoms. "What news of Dorne, the Stormlands, and the Reach have we received?"

Qyburn was the one with the answers. "There are eight thousand Dornish soldiers, but the lords will not act as long as we have Elliara captured. The Stormlands are seeking a new liege lord before they give us any attention. From what my little birds have sung, Selmy of Tarth is gaining the largest support."

"And the Reach?"

"The Dothraki have taken residence in Highgarden, but the lands remain untouched and the people unharmed. With the Tyrells gone and Lord Randyll Tarly and his son dead, Lady Melessa Tarly has been chosen as the governing Lady of the Reach by the other lords. But with the Dothraki occupying their lands, the Reach is at a standstill." Cersei did not look pleased, but it didn't stop Qyburn from going on. "There is one more thing, your grace. There have been whispers in the North about a boy who is said to be the bastard of your late husband."

Cersei froze at the mention of that. Even Jaime was taken a bit by surprise."That's not possible, they were all executed on Joffrey's orders." Not just the ones in King's Landing, but throughout the seven Kingdoms.

"I understand, your grace, but there was one who slipped away from the city when the order was given. From what I read from the reports regarding the matter, he was traveling with the Night's Watch and reported killed. However, a small detail sparked my curiosity." Cersei turned to face him, waiting for his explanation. "The reports listed a physical description of all of Robert's bastard children and all of them had black hair except for one."

"The one traveling with the Watch."

"The company was captured by your father's men and taken to Harrenhal. After he left, there was a report that some of the prisoners escaped. One of them was working as a smith, and the information given on him before the search matched his description."

If Cersei had something to throw, she would have done it. "And now he's under the protection of Jon Snow?" They all had received word that Jon was discovered to be the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, but that didn't stop Cersei from denying it.

Jaime wasn't sure what to think on that. He read the reports about evidence that Rhaegar had married Lyanna and not kidnapped her which would explain a few things from when he was a Kingsguard. That part he was willing to believe, but Jon Snow being their son… it made too much sense that it had to be.

"He is, your grace." Qyburn continued. "Working in the Winterfell forges trying to recreate Valyrian steel."

This earned some snickering from everyone else except from Ser Gregor. Jaime didn't know much about forging, but he did know that no one has been able to create the steel since the Doom of Valyria. Widow's Wail and Oathkeeper were reworked from Ice, but not made from raw material.

"I suppose since they have dragons they think they can." He suggested.

"He already did, SerJaime." Qyburn informed, ceasing the derisive attitudes. "Although, my spies inform me he was only able to make one sword. The rest of his attempts have been failures for reasons they do not know."

There was silence as everyone went through the details of the situation over again in their heads.

"As it seems," Harry started, "things aren't looking too well from this side of the war. If they figure out what the problem is and fix it, not only will we be outnumbered, but we will be outmatched in equipment."

Jaime knew something like that would anger Cersei, but she remained calm about the whole thing. Her gaze turned to him. A smirk slowly raised on her face. "Captain Strickland, I can imagine that in all your years living in Essos, you must have managed to make some friends in the right places."

"I have, your grace. But even favors have costs."

"The costs are of no concern of mine, but winning the war is."

"Very well, are there any type of favors you have in mind?"

Cersei's smirk grew, looking vile even to Jaime. "Do you have any in Braavos?"

The day was growing old and Jaime felt he needed time to rest after all that was going on. He was in Cersei's solar, relaxing on a coach while she went over some documents delivered to her. The more he went over the odds of winning the war in his mind, the more the outcome became worse. No matter how much wine he drank, he couldn't get rid of his dread. Cersei took notice to this and got up from her desk. "Something troubling you?"

He knew she didn't even have to ask to know what was troubling him. "We are not going to win this war. Even with the Golden Company, now that the North, the Iron Islands, and the Vale fight for Daenerys Targaryen, we are hopelessly outmatched. How long will it be until the other Kingdoms realize this and decide to be on the winning side?"

"So, you wish to surrender? Hand the throne over to the Targaryens and hope they at least give us quick deaths when they kill us?"

"With Tyrion as Daenerys's hand, he wouldn't let that happen."

"And what would our dear little brother do? Give us Casterly Rock? Live out our days in peace?" She shook her head as she made her way over to the wine pitcher. "That little monster has been set on destroying our family ever since he killed our mother. I'm amazed you've never seen that even after he killed father."

Jaime hated Tyrion for doing that, but he didn't believe Tyrion was out to destroy them. He sat up and leaned over, brushing his fingers over his golden hand. "We could leave Westeros, away from all danger and chaos."

"And give them the crown? I'd burn this city to the ground before doing that."

A shiver ran down Jaime's spine as he remembered similar words spoken by a previous King he served. He denied she meant it, but after what happened to the Sept of Baelor, it didn't sound as unbelievable as he thought. He shook the idea out of his head, "What about the armistice? If there really is an Army of the Dead coming, we might be able to negotiate a deal with Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen."

Cersei only laughed at him. "Should I ask Qyburn to examine you? I'm afraid you might be going mad."

"They could destroy us if they wanted to, but they haven't. Why wouldn't they?"

"They care too much about peasants and common folk. As long as we keep our armies close to them, the dragonspawn and the bastard won't bring their beasts near us. If they move against us, they'll find themselves ruling over corpses." The more she seemed to speak, the more Jaime couldn't push away the feeling he had that Cersei was starting to act like Aerys Targaryen. Jaime got up and made for the door. "Where are you going?"

He needed to get away from all the talk of war and relax for a moment, something he was hoping to do with Cersei originally. "To find Bronn. I need something stronger to drink."

The ales of the taverns in Flea Bottom were awful. Jaime had drunk horse piss that tasted better, and it wasn't a lie. The noise was too loud and the smell was terrible. But at least it took his mind off of the war. Bronn had already downed two mugs of ale and was now working on his third as Jaime explained the situation.

Bronn gulped down his mouthful and wiped his mouth clean of the drink. "Your sister's right." He said. "as long as we keep our men close to good citizens of the realm, they won't rain dragonfire upon us. Now all she has to do is think of a way to have their armies not attack us either."

Even Jaime couldn't think of a way. His father was the one who always had a clever plan. Though he doubted his father would have one even now. Ever since they learned about Daenerys's dragons hatching in Essos, he always doubted their potential. And now here he was, commander of the Lannister Army with sellswords and a broken fleet at his back and five dragons and too many men at his front. "What would you do?"

Bronn just shrugged, "I wouldn't say. Your sister might be foolish enough to try it if her spies heard me and told her."

Jaime sighed realizing he was heading straight for what he was trying to avoid by being here in the first place. "Did you enjoy your woman?" He inquired, not able to think of what else to talk about.

Bronn snorted at him, amazed. "I just spent my time with a whore and you're asking if I enjoyed it?"

"You'll have to enjoy it while you can before you're married to a highborn lady." Jaime reminded before taking another drink.

"Do you think being married ever stopped anyone from fucking whores? Didn't stop Robert Baratheon, that's for sure. Didn't stop your sister from fucking your cousin either while you were Robb Stark's prisoner."

Jaime choked on his ale, coughing up what he just drank. It took him a moment to recover before he was able to talk. "What did you say?"

"She never told you?" Bronn looked curious and cautious at the same time. "Your cousin Lancel kept her bed warm while you were away until he joined the Faith. His confession's what got her thrown into the Sept dungeons."

This was shocking and angering at the same time. He remembered when he returned to King's Landing and she denied him her company, telling him he took too long, but she never told him she slept with Lancel.

"That's it," Bronn said before finishing his final mug, "you're coming with me." He stood up and grabbed Jaime by his coat, pulling him up from his seat.

"Where are we going?" Jaime asked as he was led out of the tavern by Bronn.

"To someplace no little birds will be."

As they walked through the streets of King's Landing, Jaime began to see the condition of the people. Many of them looked starving and others had hardly any proper clothes to keep warm for the coming winter. When Margery was queen, he never saw such a sight.

They finally came to a stop at the broken-down doors of Littlefinger's brothel. Jaime was surprised Bronn chose this place, but not surprised that it was going to be a brothel. As they stepped inside, the rooms that were once elegant and inviting were now empty and cold. Markings of the Faith Militant were still present and only rats occupied the building.

Once they were inside Littlefinger's office, Bronn sat down at a windowsill. "Now, it's time for you to hear the cold truth if your ever goin' to live through all of this." He waited for Jaime to give him his full attention. "With Cersei as the queen, we're all gonna die. Even if by some miracle she defeats the Targaryens and the Northmen, we won't last the winter. She's spent all the Tyrell gold on the Golden Company and some other shite I don't know about, our own resources are nearly depleted now that the Reach can't send food. Every ship is being used as a military vessel instead of fishing like they should be. To sum it all up, you have nothin'."

"We have nothing," Jaime corrected. "You're a part of this too."

"Aye, I was. But that was when I was made a lord and promised a castle and a highborn wife, which you have taken both from me and refuse to give. Your brother on the other hand has a castle waiting for me and a wife. He offered to make me a liege lord, but it's too much work so I'm settling for just the castle. Though I will admit, I never did enjoy the cold very much, but it's better than being here without what I'm owed-"

"Is there a point you'd like to make?" Jaime grew irritated at all of this. He never suspected Bronn to keep his loyalty for long. He was still just a sellsword after all.

Bronn sighed as if it wasn't already made. "I'm telling you this, in hopes that you understand the situation. I like you, I do. But I'm being the smart person and looking at my options before the time comes when it's too late. And soon enough, the lords who've pledged themselves to your sister will be doing the same thing. She can't protect them, she can't feed them, and she doesn't care about them. So why should they call her their queen? Because she's sitting on the Iron Throne?"

Jaime hated what he was saying, but he knew it was the truth. "What are you asking of me?"

"Nothin at all, but I'm advising you to try and get your sister to see the same thing."

"What do you think I was doing before I found you?"

Bronn was silenced, looking at the ground and shaking his head. Jaime decided to leave but before he was out the door, Bronn asked him a question. "Would you do it again?"

Jaime looked back at him, confused. "Do what?"

"If the Mad King had returned and ordered the city to be burned with Wildfire, would you kill him again?"

Jaime looked at Bronn as if the answer was obvious. "Of course."

"Well then, go put your sword in her rather than your cock and we're saved." Jaime reached for the hilt of his sword which he wasn't carrying. He was completely unarmed, but Bronn wasn't. "Before you get angry, just remember that she blew up the Sept, killing your son's wife, a woman he loved very much, even if she was manipulating him. Your uncle, a niece, and a nephew, looks like she's killed more Lannisters than your brother now."

Jaime turned back around, leaving the office and the brothel. Tommen, Uncle Kevan, Lancel, Cerenna, all dead because of what Cersei did. When he reached the streets, he couldn't help but imagine seeing Cersei on the Iron Throne, screaming like the Mad King. 'BURN THEM ALL!' He fell back on a wall, sliding down it until he was sitting. He stared off into the streets ahead of him, wondering what he would really do if he faced that decision.