Chapter 29 - Lannister Brothers

Jaime Lannister finally arrived at his little brother's request, shaking off Brienne's constant reminders about oaths, Steve, and the Stark girls. Cersei refused to see him, which spoke volumes. Now he sat across from Tyrion at an ornate table, laden with fresh fruit, warm bread, cooked potatoes, and roasted boar. Tyrion's loyal squire, Podrick Payne, a simple lad, poured them Dornish red wine, yet Jaime had no appetite. A maester arrived with a golden hand and a leather strap, ready to attach his new glorified hand, which felt more like a horrible reminder ridiculed in gold. The maester put it on as his brother ate with a proper fork and knife.

"Your new hand is nicer than the old one," said Tyrion, placing a slice of boar in his mouth. Jaime glared at him, envious of both his hands.

"Wouldn't you agree, Pod?" the dwarf asked his squire.

"Is it solid gold?" asked Podrick.

"Gilded steel," Tyrion answered happily for him. He stopped putting anything else into his mouth when he noticed his brother sulking across from him. "You're not eating," he asked truly concerned.

"I'm not hungry," his older brother responded.

"You lost a hand, not a stomach," Tyrion added, placing another slice of meat in his mouth. "Try the boar. Cersei can't get enough of it since one killed Robert for her," he added. Jaime could tell his little brother was trying to lift his spirits.

"A toast," said Tyrion, raising a glass of rich red wine Podrick had just poured for them. Jaime could not help but snicker. "To the proud Lannister children. The dwarf, the cripple, and the mother of madness," he jested, making fun of all three of the Lannister siblings. To Tyrion's delight, his older brother smiled, but instinctively reached out for the wine glass with his right hand, knocking it over and spilling the red fluid. Jaime was disgusted by himself. Podrick attempted to help.

"I'll clean it up," he said kindly.

"No, I'll do it. Leave us," Jaime commanded, sincerely understanding that the boy had good intentions. Podrick did as he was told and left. Tyrion poured out his own wine on the table, adding to the mess.

"It's only wine," he said kindly. A sigh escaped from Jaime's lips

"I can't fight anymore," he murmured, revealing a sliver of vulnerability.

"What about your left?" Tyrion asked compassionately. The Kingslayer looked to his left hand, unhopeful.

"I can hold a sword, but all my instincts are wrong," he said quietly. "How can I protect the King when I can hardly wipe my own ass?" he added, returning to his sarcasm. Tyrion took a sip of wine.

"You're the Lord Commander now. Command. Let others do the fighting," the smart dwarf said playfully. A strange smirk appeared on his brother's face.

"Let others do the fighting…" he repeated almost to himself. The thought of Steve bubbled to the surface of his insecurities, causing him to doubt his own capabilities once more. Tyrion dabbed his mouth with a napkin, anxiously observing his brother's expression.

"Something you wish to talk about?" he asked. Jaime stared at all the food on the table, still not wanting any of it. The thought of his father returning from battle and discovering what he brought home lingered unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. Ironically, he could sympathize a bit with his little brother. Their father never approved of the company Tyrion kept, and with the loss of his hand, he feared what ideas would gestate in Lord Tywin's mind. Why did he stick his neck out for a total stranger?

"Your newest companion is quite the champion," Tyrion interrupted, stabbing another morsel of boar and a slice of potato with his two-pronged fork. Jaime looked up from the table, an angry expression poised on his face as if Tyrion had stabbed him instead of the food.

"He's certainly prettier than our beloved sister…maybe that's why she's locked herself away," Tyrion jested. Jaime narrowed his eyes.

"Careful," he warned his younger brother.

"What! You have to admit… he's quite intimidating," Tyrion continued as he finally ate the piece of food waiting at the end of his fork. Once he swallowed, he picked up his glass of wine and swirled it around in one hand. "So, what does he want?" the dwarf asked the age-old question, staring into his cup. Jaime blinked twice from the redirection. His silence did not go unnoticed.

"Oh, there must be a reason, why else would he come back with you. Gold? Women? A knighthood?" he probed curiously about to take a sip but pulled it away at a paused thought. "Wait, he's already a Ser… isn't he?" he corrected himself. To Tyrion's surprise, Jaime sneered and snickered.

"He doesn't want anything of those things," said the Kingslayer confidently.

"What then?" asked the dwarf. Jaime shook his head with an odd smirk on his face.

"He's looking for someone… someone who can't possibly exist… or perhaps once did," Jaime responded.

"And you… promised him this person?" Tyrion asked concerned, recalling their family mantra permanently branded into his brain, 'A Lannister always pays his debts.'

"I didn't promise him anything," Jaime blurted out honestly, without a care in the world, trusting his brother's absolute confidence. Tyrion swirled the cup in hand around again, pondering.

"So… that's why you're defending him," said the clever dwarf, meeting his brother's gaze. Jaime knitted his brows together in confusion.

"He brought you Lady Brienne back alive, albeit not exactly in one piece," said Tyrion, letting his eyes flicker to Jaime's new golden hand.

"That had nothing to do with—"

"And you… can't… repay him," Tyrion finished with a hint of kindness and sadness in his voice. A smooth silence flooded the room like a heavy, cold, milky mist that cloaked the floor. Shockingly, that thought had never really crossed Jaime's mind. His younger brother's scholarly reasoning was always his strong suit.

"Alright, so, who is it?" said Tyrion, pulling the plug on the sullen silence. Jaime looked up from his thoughts.

"It's… a Stark," the Kingslayer scoffed. Tyrion rolled his eyes and raised his glass to his lips once more.

"A Stark, how original… which Stark?" he said, taking a sip of his red wine, knowing full well that the Starks wanted their daughters back in exchange for his brother. Jaime searched his memory banks for the name, the name he was sure Steve only mentioned once.

"A Stark… by the name of 'Tony,' I believe," Jaime finally recalled, rubbing his eyes with his left hand. Suddenly, he heard a choking sound. Jaime removed his hand from his face to find that his little brother had practically spat out most of his wine. It was very unlike his brother to not keep down fine wine. Tyrion had grabbed his cloth napkin quickly and covered the mess on his mouth.

"Ahem ahem," he coughed, "The boar… must not be agreeing with me…" Tyrion said, clearing his throat and catching his breath. Before he could say anything else, his squire returned abruptly to interrupt their brotherly meal.

"Apologies, my Lord," said Podrick.

"Pod? Ahem, what is it?" Tyrion struggled, wiping his mouth as best he could.

"It's the King, my Lord," he said politely, with great concern in his eyes. Podrick glanced from Tyrion to the Kingslayer.

"What about the King?" Jaime demanded in a graver tone.

"King Jeoffry has commanded the King's Guard to escort Ser Rogers to the tourney grounds," the young squire answered squeamishly.

"Why?" questioned Tyrion with great doubt.

"I don't know, my Lord. I just heard that he is supposed to be the King's 'entertainment' this afternoon…" answered Podrick. Both Lannister brothers exchanged worried looks before practically shooting up from their chairs, leaving the meal unfinished.