Sorry for the really late update, but I had actually abandoned this story. Hope someone's still interested...

Certain passages were extracted from A Storm of Swords, some quotes paraphrased. Don't worry, I've added my own bits as well. But still, everything goes to the one and only GRRM.

JAIME

He knew that Cersei was not particularly pleased with his arrangements, but she would have to make do. It was better than Brienne's fate. The wench was in a tower cell, held under guard. At least his sister was in his nice, warm chamber. He had presented her as his whore - she had been exiled from the capitol by King Joffrey's express command, so no one could know that she was back just yet - and her place was in his bed. Neither of the two women were grateful to him.

He went to find his father. The Tower of the Hand was guarded by Lannister household guards, who recognised him immediately. The same could not be said for other people who had seen him that day.

"The gods are good, to give you back to us, ser," one of the guards said, as he held the door.

What gods? "The gods had no part in it. Catelyn Stark gave me back. Her, and the Lord of the Dreadfort."

He climbed the stairs - he felt so old at that moment - and pushed into the solar unannounced. Lord Tywin was sitting by the fire. Thankfully he was alone; Jaime would not have to show his maimed hand to anyone else.

"Jaime," his father greeted him as if they had last seen each other at breakfast.

"Sorry for missing the wedding. I was delayed." He moved closer to the fire in order to give his father a good look at his stump.

Lord Tywin jumped out of his chair like an arrow, his breath hissing between his teeth like a viper. "Who did this?" he demanded. "If Lady Catelyn thinks -"

"Lady Catelyn held a sword to my throat and made me swear to return her daughters. This was your goat's work. Vargo Hoat, the Lord of Harrenhal!"

His father looked away, disgusted. One of his own men had maimed his precious son; how did he feel about that? "No longer," he said. "Ser Gregor's taken the castle. The sellswords deserted their erstwhile captain almost to a man, and some of Lady Whent's old people opened a postern gate. Clegane found Hoat sitting alone in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, half-mad with pain and fever from a wound that festered in his ear, I'm told."

Jaime could not prevent the soft laughter from escaping his lips. Oh, this was so sweet. He was dying to tell Brienne, although he doubted that she would find it as funny as he did. "Is he dead yet?" he asked.

"Soon. They have taken off his hands and feet, but Clegane seems amused by the way the Qohorik slobbers."

Jaime's smile melted from his face. He was about to ask about the Brave Companions, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

Lord Tywin's hard eyes went back to Jaime's stump, and his mouth grew taut with fury. "We'll have their heads. Every one," he promised, the tone of his voice able to chill even the bravest men's blood. "Can you use a sword with your left hand?"

I can hardly dress myself in the morning. Jaime held up his remaining hand for his father's inspection. "Four fingers, a thumb, much like the other. Why shouldn't it work as well?"

"Good." His father resumed his seat. "That is good..."

How did Joffrey die?" Jaime asked before his father could say anything else.

"Poison. It was meant to appear as though he choked on a morsel of food, but I had his throat slit open and the maesters could find no obstruction."

Jaime felt nothing. His son had been poisoned and cut open after his death, and Jaime was completely unaffected by it. The boy had been nothing but his seed.

"It was Sansa Stark," Lord Tywin carried on. "We had witnesses that testified against her, saying that they saw her put something in the King's cup. The girl has fled, and that is strong evidence of her guilt. We do not know whether she wanted to poison Joffrey or Margaery or both, but she had good reason to poison either of them. Your brother claims that she would never do such a thing. It is not yet clear whether he was an accomplice - even the one who came up with the whole idea - or served the wine unknowingly, but he is still in a cell all the same. That has pleased Mace Tyrell."

Jaime shook his head. Tyrion could not do something like that, surely. He was aware of the fact that the boy had been Jaime's. Besides, would he really take such a risk in a city where no one had true friends?

"And what about Cersei?" he asked, trying to lead his thoughts elsewhere.

"You've heard about her exile. That was a big mistake, but I've just had Tommen sign the order of her return to the capital, so I'm sending men to find her."

"No need. She's here."

Lord Tywin raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"I found her and brought her here with me. No one knows it's her, though."

His father seemed to approve. "Good," he said. "Then my plans can come to fruition.

Jaime liked the sound of that not at all.

"You will go to Casterly Rock. Tommen will accompany you, as your ward and squire -"

Jaime raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I can't," he said. "Crippled or whole, a knight of the Kingsguard serves for life."

"Cersei ended that when she replaced Ser Barristan on grounds of age. A suitable gift to the Faith will persuade the High Septon to release you from your vows. Your sister was foolish to dismiss Selmy, I admit that, but now that she has opened the gates -"

"- someone needs to close them again. No one ever asked me if I wanted to be Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, but it seems I am. I have a duty -"

"You do," Lord Tywin agreed coldly and rose. "A duty to House Lannister. You are my heir, the heir to Casterly Rock. This is where you should be, where you belong. And there Tommen will learn to be a Lannister. I want him away from his mother. I mean to find a new husband for Cersei. She can still produce children. Oberyn Martell seems to be a good choice, but first I'll have to convince Mace Tyrell that the match does not threaten Highgarden. And it is past time you were wed. The Tyrells are now insisting that Margaery be wed to Tommen, but if I were to offer you instead -"

"NO!" Jaime had never raised the tone of his voice to his father before, but he had heard more than he could stand. "No. No. No. No. No. Oberyn Martell? Seriously? The man's infamous, and not just for poisoning his sword. Gods, he has even more bastards than Robert, and beds with boys as well. And I will not wed Joffrey's widow!"

"Lord Tyrell swears the girl's still a maiden," Lord Tywin said calmly.

"She can die a maiden for all I care. I don't want her, and I don't want your stupid Rock!"

"You are my son -"

"I am a knight of the Kingsguard." He was boiling up with rage. He was so sick of everything. All he wanted at the moment was to lose himself inside Cersei's arms. "I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard! And that's all I mean to be!"

Firelight gleamed golden in the stiff whiskers that framed Lord Tywin's face. A vein pulsed in his neck, and Jaime expected him to have an outbreak as well. However, his father did not speak. And did not speak. And did not speak.

The silence was unnerving. it went on until it was more than Jaime could endure. He would have preferred being yelled at. "Father..." he began.

"You are not my son." Lord Tywin turned his face away, his eyes on the dancing flames. "You say that you are the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and nothing more than that. Very well, ser. Go do your duty."

Jaime swallowed hard. He had spoken up for himself and lost his father. Hos brother was rotting in a cell. His sister's heart was a mystery to him.

He turned around and left with not another word.