Chapter 11: The Kindling Before

Ever since he found Joffrey wrangling a kitten as a young child, Jaime had always thought the worst of Joffrey. The kitten had originally been a rare present from Robert for the boy's fifth names day. The tiny black kitten had reminded Jaime of Princess Rhaenys's Balerion because of the kitten's tendency to claw at everyone who tried to hold it, especially Joffrey. After choking the life out of the kitten, Joffrey had let out a roar and purred, "Aren't you proud of me Uncle Jaime? I show kitty me lion."

Jaime had to stop himself from wrangling the boy. What kind of kid kills an innocent creature?

In the past few years Jaime had concluded that Joffrey was responsible for the assassin's attempt to kill Bran. He had believed that Joffrey unknowingly followed in his footsteps. To hear Ser Preston share that he and Littlefinger were responsible. He was utterly shocked. It should not change his feelings towards the boy. Joffrey was still a little, cruel monster. But Jaime wondered if this meant that there was a glimmer of hope for the boy.

Regardless, Jaime felt he should at least try to reason with the boy. That had led him to offer the boy a training lesson.

He needed to do something while the Northerners procrastinated. During the past three days, Cassel and the other Stark guards kept telling Jaime that Stark wanted to consider all implications before bringing Ser Preston and Littlefinger to justice.

They dismissed Jaime's concerns about Ser Barristan. The elderly man was questioning how long Ser Preston would be sick, which was Jaime's excuse for Ser Preston's absence. Ser Barristan mentioned checking in on Ser Preston.

Jaime wished he could go to Robert himself, but he knew the fat oaf would never listen to him.

Maybe Jaime should just knock the Stark's guards aside during his next visit. Tomorrow, Jaime will allow Stark one more day to contemplate his honor and similar rubbish.

Joffrey had done terribly as usual, but Jaime hoped he heed his words.

"Joffrey, I heard you have been acting untoward to some of the serving girls," Jaime began.

"They soiled my sheets," Joffrey whined. "I should have done worse!"

The Hound laughed behind him, ignoring Joffrey's glare.

Despicable cretin. If he was not his son, Jaime would consider doing away with Joffrey in the middle of the night. Surely Bran would have sent someone else back if he wanted the boy dead.

"It matters not." Jaime clenched his teeth. "The servants are human and deserve to be treated as such. Ordering Clegane to slap them and threatening to kill them, leaves you looking like a cruel monster."

Joffrey snarled. "I am part lion. We do not care for sheep."

"Repeating what little you remember of your grandfather's favorite saying, does not make you right. You are in the position you are in because of luck. You could have easily been born a peasant. How would you feel if a prince ordered his guard to slap you?"

"Good that I'm a Prince!" Joffrey smirked. "I never have to worry about that."

Trying to make Joffrey feel empathy towards others was a failure. Jaime needed to try another way.

"Think about it this way. It is better to get loyalty from others from friendship and love rather than fear. I am sure you saw how Cassel follows the Hand's every order. That is because Lord Stark treats him well. Cassel, therefore, respects him and will do anything for him."

Joffrey's mouth gaped. "That stupid. He should not lower himself for a simple guard."

"Cassel and other guards are not simple," Jaime said sternly. "They are people like you and me who have feelings and needs. Every person matters."

"I matter more!" Joffrey held his chin up high. "Because I am a Prince. Right, Uncle Jaime?"

"No. You being a prince is a birthright that does not make you better than anyone else. It just gives you a lot more responsibilities. As a Prince you are responsible for keeping the realm at peace and respecting your subjects. For someday you may find yourself needing true friends." Jaime placed a hand on the boy's shoulders. "True friends that will stand by you through anything, because the world will not always be kind to you."

Joffrey smiled before chuckling. "You are having me on. You know as well as I do that, we are special. We do not care for sheep and weaker men for we are better."

Jaime shook his head and closed his eyes. He was terrible at this. Why was he even trying?

Death was approaching. Jaime could feel the Wight closing in. Soon his body would become ice and, yet somehow, he blocked it with his golden hand, and raised his sword with the other to cut the Wight in half.

"We are not better than anyone else. We can be harmed like any other." Wolves, lions, the Others, and bears; there were dangers all around and the only way to stay safe was offering kindness in the hope to encourage trust. "Imagine you were placed in a bear pit. No one cares about your title, how much money you have or what your father could do to them. If you're cruel to people, they will all watch you get brutalized and eaten to death. However, if you think about how she listened to you and calls you honorable. How, I know she's wrong, but it is nice to hear. With that in mind, I rush into rescue her, risking certain death because I know she's one of the few people in the world who is truly noble. One of the few who values oaths and deserves loyalty. As a prince you owe your people human decency."

"Did that really happen to a woman you know?" Joffrey grinned wildly. "Did her limbs turn out bloody? Did the bear maul her face and tits? I love to see that."

"No. I went in after her and we both helped each other survive without an injury," Jaime admitted. He will leave it to Joffrey's and the Hound's imagination about when the event happened. Joffrey was a lost cause. How could he hope to reason with a monster?

As he had done each night since Stark's guards blocked him from speaking to Stark, Jaime called out for Bran that night before he slept. This time he said, "Bran, is there anything else I should be doing to stop the war? Stark is taking forever to make a move. I feel that time is running out."

Jaime expected Bran to stay away as he had done the past three nights. Instead, Bran flickered in and out in Jaime's dreams. Was something blocking the greenseer from entering his dreams?

Finally, the flickering stopped, and Bran stood tall before him. Behind Bran, two shadows rushed to a boat. One shadow started rowing as the other shadow watched.

"Wrong. War. Misery. Beware the Lord of…" Bran shouted before he disappeared.

Yes. Something must be blocking their connection. Bran mentioned a Lord. Which Lord was he warning Jaime of? There were too many Lords in King's Landing to worry about.

Perhaps Bran would answer him at the Red Keep's Godwoods. Perhaps their connection would be stronger as near as anyone could be near Northerners' Old Gods in the South. Jaime may not believe in any Gods anymore - both the Old and the New-, but he believed in the Three-eyed Raven.

Entwining with green shrubbery, roses, marigolds, and lilacs bloomed across the garden. The various gardeners and other spies watched Jaime as he walked past them. Jaime missed the days out on the road where lurkers were rare. He always preferred the relative anatomy from living with a mass of soldiers to this ever-exposed court-life.

As he rounded the corner that led to the Godwood, Jaime chanced up his daughter Myrcella. Jaime almost wanted to turn around when he saw her round, young face. Unlike her older self, this Myrcella had crooked shoulders and her face was pale. She lacked the tinge of orange on her skin from days in the sun.

His daughter smiled shyly when she saw him. As Myrcella approached him, the guards in red beside her backed away.

Jaime should go. He did not belong to be in her presence after how terribly he failed her.

"Uncle Jaime," she rushed over as Jaime started to turn around. "You are avoiding me more than usual. Could you stay for a moment at least? I am rather lonely with Tommen away."

Jaime glanced away. "You gained your intelligence from your mother."

Myrcella giggled. "It is not that difficult to tell. You have not looked my way for weeks. Why is that?"

"I am afraid I have no good reason." Jaime glanced to find her green eyes focused on him.

Jaime moved to leave again when Myrcella seized his left arm.

"Then stay and let me put a flower in your hair." Myrcella snatched a rose and, on her tippy toes, put it against his ear. "Now you look like a real Lady."

"This is lovely." Jaime gave a half-hearted smile. For a moment, he was a kid again on one of those days he pretended to be Cersei; he could almost hear the laughter of himself and his childhood friend, Melara Hetherspooon, as they put endless amounts of flowers and shrubs in each other's hair. A rather embarrassing memory that he was glad most people were unaware of. "Care to add another?"

Myrcella beamed and pulled out another rose. "If only Tommen was here. We would have a real ball with him around. Lilacs looked flattering against his bushy eyebrows."

"I am sorry you both were separated. I know you are close. It was hard for me as well when I spent my teenage years away from your mother and Uncle Tyrion."

Myrcella frowned. "Let us not think about such sad circumstances. Let us think about how much we love Tommen. His cheerful laugh and his love of wafers. Remember how he always tried to sneak them all away after dinner, but Mother stopped him each time. He had a great way with cats, as well. I tried to befriend a little orange tabby and he tried to scratch me." She showed him her arm that bore a sharp red line.

"Have you had that looked at? You should make sure…"

"I am fine, Uncle. It barely hurts. I could receive worse pain from all these roses." Myrcella fingered the thorn on the rose in her hand. "Besides, I ended up better than Myatt." She glanced backwards at one of Lannister guards watching them. "The cat almost mauled his ear off."

The guard scowled, and Jaime noticed that his ear did have a slight tear. The man was unreasonably grouchy; Jaime had seen far worse scars.

"Are you going to take part in the melee at the upcoming tourney?" Myrcella changed the subject.

"Perhaps. It has been a long time since my last one." Jaime grinned. He had missed the Stark tourney in his previous life as he was on his unnecessary quest to save Tyrion from Lady Catelyn Stark. He wondered if the tourney would happen; hopefully Stark would be ready before then to finally get Littlefinger punished, and it would turn into a celebration.

"The last one was only a few moon turns ago." Myrcella laughed. "You will win against Loras Tyrell this time. I know you will."

"You are going to be disappointed, girl." Renly Baratheon came up beside him. "My friend Loras will beat the Kingslayer once again. He's gone weak in the past year."

"Lover," Jaime muttered, snickering at Renly's scowl when the younger man heard him.

"Uncle Renly." Myrcella beckoned Renly over to her. "Would you like a rose in your hair as well?"

"Not now, girl." Renly said bluntly. "I need a word with the Kingslayer."

"There is no need to be mean to little girls," Jaime snapped. "She just wants to give her third favorite uncle a pretty flower."

Renly scowled. Did the muttonhead know the truth about the children already? Jaime would need to watch the fool closely.

"All right, my second favorite niece. I would love a flower before we adults talk." Renly leaned forward and gracefully accepted a rose.

"Come along now, my gallant protectors," Myrcella said cheerfully. "Let's see if we can find some tulips for my flower crown."

Renly waited for Myrcella and her guards to leave before shouting, "What did you do to Stark?"

"I did nothing." Jaime asked. "Stark is taking a few days off. I think he's suffering from spending too much time in the stench of Flea Bottom. I heard it fucks with the noses of Northerners."

"You're lying." Renly grimaced and tried to stand tall. Instead, he looked like a scrawny ant that deserved a good stomping. "He has been missing for days, and I heard that you were the last one to talk to him besides his guards."

"You need better spies," Jaime said gruffly. "I have not seen him in three moon turns. You have better luck with his guards."

Renly leaned in, and Jaime pushed him away. "I'm not Loras. You are not my type, pretty boy."

The younger man snapped away, grunting. "As if I would be interested in a man like you. I know Cersei and your little secret. Soon it will be out."

"Oh, we have a secret now, do we? Why wasn't I made aware?" Jaime smirked while internally groaning. Myrcella. Tommen. Cersei. He must protect them.

"You know what I am talking about. I will tell Robert."

Jaime raised his eyebrows and said with false bravo. "Tell him whatever lies you like; I will deny them."

Renly stupidly punched into a bush of roses. His hands started bleeding from the thorns. "You are a dead man, Lannister. Wait and see. We will get you for all your crimes."

"You and what army? As if I should fear the Tyrells' cock-sucking puppet." Jaime patted the now hunching man's arm. "Thank you, I guess. You did give me some useful information. I thought Stark was ignoring me. Now I know his guards were lying."

Jaime walked away, ignoring Renly's screams for him to come back. He had a Stark guard to find.

Jaime found Jory Cassel in the training yard. The man was in the middle of hacking at training buddy.

"A little doe told me that you have been lying to me for days," Jaime told Cassel. "Imagine my astonishment at the thought that you do not trust me."

Cassel grunted. "Renly should not have. I apologize for lying. Alyn told me not to tell you. Said he did not want to worry you. We will bring Greenfield in as soon as we find my Lord and Torren."

Jaime mulled it over. Who would risk taking Stark? Cersei knew better to make a move against Stark while Robert was alive. That left with Baelish. The bastard must have guessed that Stark knew about his involvement in Jon Arryn's death. Would Baelish risk killing Stark?

Another reason that Bran should tell him more than 'Beware the Lord…,' for Jaime was clueless on how to prevent the war. By the Warrior, it was easier to make battle plans than figuring out a way to keep warring factions at peace.

That gave Jaime an idea. Grinning, he pulled out his sword and asked Cassel, "Care for a spar?"

"No." Cassel dropped his sword. "I should go and return to searching for my lord."

Jaime shook his head. "You need to relax, boy. Sometimes the best ideas come from the spirit of battle."

"I am less than five years younger than you. Not a boy." Cassel straightened his back.

"Then, stop acting like a boy, boy. You can do your lord no good worrying about with no clear path to follow. Now that I know that Stark is missing, I can help you find him. Letting out some reckless energy will help us clear our heads."

Cassel brought up his sword and gave a weak advance that Jaime easily blocked.

"Are you sure you are a man?" Jaime roared as Cassel dropped his sword. "You sure are fighting like a boy."

Cassel tried again, this time with a bit more force. Jaime still dodged the blade easily, knocked it away and pressed the point of his sword against Cassel's neck.

"Weak. Very weak. Who taught you to fight? A weasel?" Jaime moved back and beckoned for Cassel to try again.

This time the Northerner feinted right, and his sword clanked against Jaime's. For a moment, Jaime was back in Winterfell, doing the same clanging of swords with Podrick Payne. Faintly, he saw Ser Brienne sparring with the Wildling giant as snow fell around them.

Suddenly, the boy flinched as Jaime's sword neared his shoulder blades, and Jaime pushed the boy's sword away. The sword clanged loudly against the ground.

Jaime howled, letting out all the pain boiling within him. "I thought Brienne taught you better than that, Payne. You fight like a trapped squirrel. You need to move faster or at least parry without flinching."

Podrick's thin hair transformed into thick greasy hair, and Jaime returned to seeing what was really in front of him. The dim-witted Cassel.

"Whose Brien?" Cassel asked.

"One of the best knights I met," Jaime said. "Now, let's try this again. Try relaxing your shoulders and listen to the sounds around you. Every good fighter knows…"

"No," Cassel sighed, and put his sword in his scabbard. "This spar has not given me any idea of where Lord Stark is. I need to reconvene with the other Stark guards about what to do. This does not involve you."

Several men laughed behind them. Jaime turned to find Renly Baratheon, Loras Tyrell and a retinue of Stormlander guards.

Renly smirked cruelly. "Lord Eddard Stark's disappearance has all to do with him. The King would like to speak to you, Lannister."

"Does he now?" Jaime grinned. "Here I thought he had enough of me as I listened to him and his whores moan for hours yesterday and the day before that."

"We will give you a chance to confess." Renly said sternly.

"Hmm, to what? That you are committing sodomy, maybe, or that you wish to usurp his throne?"

"Enough," Loras interrupted this time, vengeful fury erupting in his eyes. "Grab him."

As the Stormlander guards approached, Cassel told them, "Stop. Give us a moment."

Cassel turned towards Jaime, both fear and concern were evident in his eyes.

Before he could say anything, Jaime told Cassel, "I hope to fight you again after this little mess is settled."

"I'm coming with you," Cassel said firmly.

"No. Go back to your kinsmen. If I was in your position, I would leave without a second thought."

"No. You need someone on your side." Cassell gave him a firm nod.

"Why are all northerners idiots? We are not allies. You owe me nothing."

"That matters little because I regret, no my regret means nothing. I was wrong to judge you harshly at Winterfell. I know you are innocent." Cassel then turned to the Stormlander guards. "There is no need for force. We will come with you without any resistance."