Updated 4/9/2019: Edited for a smoother read.

Chapter 19

Jaime V

Jaime Lannister stood at the prow of the ship watching Lannisport draw closer. The wind whipped at his jet black cloak as the ship bobbed in the turbulent water, but he remained steadfast and unmoving. A storm was brewing, both outside in the open air and inside Jaime.

I come home to take my place as heir and you want a fight, father? Jaime thought as his eyes looked past Lannisport towards Casterly Rock where thousands of tents of the Westerlands army could be seen between here and there. They shouldn't be there. If his father had heeded his orders, they'd be halfway to King's Landing at this point, ready to intercept Renly Baratheon and prevent him from seizing the seat of power. And yet here the army remained.

What was more is that there was a festive quality to the place. Lannisport was always thriving, but with the thousands of soldiers in the area, it was now booming. He suspected there was more to the celebratory atmosphere than just a whole bunch of soldiers in town to spend their hard-earned gold.

He finally tore his eyes away from the city and settled directly onto the docks where he could see a welcome party. His father, or anyone of particular standing in the Lannister family, was nowhere to greet him. It was a slight. He had signed his letter to Tywin as Hand of the King and yet here he was being greeted by...Ser Addam Marbrand. Not that he wasn't pleased to see Ser Addam - he had grown up alongside him in Casterly Rock and considered him a friend - but someone in his position deserved to be greeted with far more decorum. This was his first test. Not only did he have to prove to his father that he was Hand of the King, it meant legitimizing his new king's rule.

He had not lied to Aemon when he said that Tywin Lannister would be the first on his knees to pledge his allegiance for saving his golden heir. Tywin Lannister would do that, but he would only do that if Aemon Targaryen was a king worth following, not to mention in what way it would benefit House Lannister. At barely six-and-ten it would be difficult to prove that Aemon had what it took to rule, let alone prove the legitimacy of his rule.

But it's too late for that father. I am Hand of the King. I have already pledged myself to Aemon. House Lannister is already in far too deep. You would disown your own golden heir to deny this allegiance? Of course Tywin wouldn't. He had a feeling he could fuck every whore between here and King's Landing and it would still not diminish him in the eyes of his lord father like it did Tyrion.

This was a test and he was ready for it.

It first started with appearance, which could be the most difficult part. Despite there being no mirror aboard his tiny ship, Jaime had done the best he could looking into a pail of water. Being on a ship also meant that neither he nor his men had bathed in just over a month. He'd had about three outfits to trade between and all of them bore various stains, from either vomiting or sweat.

He was currently dressed in the fourthoutfit he had taken. It was to be his formal attire when negotiating with the Tyrells. He wore a Lannister crimson jerkin done up to one side with twenty-five golden buttons with black trim on the shoulders and black trousers with shiny black boots. He imagined to most it would make him look more Targaryen than Lannister, but the idea was to intimidate and if the soldiers standing far behind him were any indication, it was effective.

He loathed being at sea and he was one of the few who hadn't succumbed to seasickness. For the most part, the sea had been calm, but on those days where the water frothed and rocked, his new ability to see sounds overwhelmed him. From horizon to horizon, the sound of the ocean lifted up from the water like bubbles floating in the air. It was also at these times that the captain was at his most temperamental, screeching at his crew members in hues of bright red that cut right through his vision to stab at his brain. He'd managed to buy the captain's cabin from him on the voyage and it was on those days that he hid himself and hugged a bucket, gritting his teeth against the headache that assailed him. He managed to avoid having a seizure and how he wasn't sure. He knew it was dangerous to not disclose his condition to his soldiers, but his own pride warred against the idea of leaning on another and not surprisingly it seemed to have the voice of Tywin Lannister. His anger at Jaime's injury might even surpass his anger at Jaime for losing his hand. For all the golden hand had been a poor disguise, it was still a symbol of the wealth of House Lannister. All the gold in Casterly Rock couldn't hide or buy him out of his current condition and that would incense his father.

Not that he had any intention of letting the old lion know. He and Aemon had come to a private agreement to conceal his condition as long as possible. If he played things smartly, the ability would give him the upper hand in the negotiations. He just had to survive the headaches and the possibility of seizures. However, there remained the problem that during one of his seizures, he could vomit, choke and die. He needed someone there to make sure that didn't happen. Someone he could implicitly trust and if he wasn't mistaken, that someone was currently residing here at Lannisport.

Was it good fortune that he wouldn't have to gamble not seizing for months or ill luck that his father chose this moment to test his son's patience? It was too difficult to say and he wished not to dwell on it.

Rhaegar's harp was slung over his right shoulder, and he gripped the lone strap holding it to him tightly. A soldier had once tried to take the harp case from him in the interest of helping, and very nearly got stabbed through the gut for his troubles. No one had been allowed to touch the case and all the soldiers gave it an equally wide berth as they were giving him now.

The boat sidled up right next to the dock and a gangplank was lowered for easy walking. Ser Addam Marbrand smiled and nodded at him as he stepped out onto dry land. He was a little shorter than Jaime with thick brown hair swept back and hazel eyes. "Ser Jaime."

"Ser Addam," Jaime replied in acknowledgment, but it was in a low quiet voice and there was no courteous smile. His eyes own eyes slowly swept over the entourage and he was privately pleased to see a few of the soldiers shift where they stood, before he finally locked eyes back with Ser Addam. "It's Lord Jaime now," he replied, not impolitely.

Addam's eyes widened and he bowed. "Lord Jaime. It's good to see you returned to the Rock," he said in a voice tinted a forest green, but it wavered ever so slightly.

Jaime had to fight to keep his pleased smirk off his face. "Ser Addam, I expected my father of all people to know the ceremonies necessary to greet the Hand of the King. So tell me...why is there no one from House Lannister here to greet me?"

Addam's eyes grew even larger if that was at all possible. "Your father sends his apologies. He had urgent business to attend to."

"I see," Jaime said with a slight sneer in his voice. Ser Addam's squire stood at the ready with the reins of three horses and he hurriedly bowed when Jaime came up to him and held out the reins to a jet black palfrey. He mounted swiftly and smoothly, ever the graceful lion. "Very well. Seeing as my father was unable to greet me in person, I don't see the point in rushing to him. If I recall, there is a well known craftsman who works on musical instruments here in Lannisport."

"Yes, a luthier. Allow me to show you the way."

They took a detour through the streets. The people and soldiers fell away from them like sheep being herded by dogs. The soldiers stood to attention as they passed, looking nervous, and the townsfolk were awed. The people of Lannisport had known him well as a young boy and in all likelihood never expected to see him again once he donned the white cloak of the Kingsguard. A few actually cheered as he passed. How many knew that he'd been on the chopping block merely six weeks ago?

When they arrived at the known luthier, Ser Addam followed Jaime inside the shop where a whole host of stringed instrument stood dangling from the ceiling and lining the walls. The craftsmen was an aging fellow with wild gray hair and judging by the young boy at his side, he was teaching the ways of his craft. It did not take long for Jaime to get his order sorted, but when he opened the case and the man saw the Targaryen seal, he very nearly choked.

"Please handle this with care. I will reward you handsomely for it," Jaime said. There was a dangerous light to his eye. He was loathe to separate from the harp after he had promised Aemon to always keep it, but he felt it important that the harp be restored to its former glory, as though it would somehow restore the Targaryen line to the throne as well.

The luthier naturally blustered and fell all over himself to make assurances, but Jaime paid them no mind. "I expect this to be ready in five days time," he ordered and strode back out once more to pull himself onto his horse.

"Lord Jaime, if you mind my prying, was that Prince Rhaegar's harp?" Ser Addam asked.

Jaime shot him a withering look. He didn't need all of Lannisport to know that the harp was at the luthier's, so he nodded silently and nudged his horse forward.

The moment they stepped out of the city, they stepped into the tents. The Westerlands army was so vast that the soldier's tents stretched from there to Casterly Rock. Someone at least had the foresight to carve a number of roads through the tents for easy passage. As they rode their way through, soldiers were pointing at Jaime and a cry was raised, welcoming the heir back to Casterly Rock.

Jaime paid them little mind. His focus was entirely on the Rock. He turned to Ser Addam and asked, "Tell me, do I have your loyalty?"

His friend looked startled. "Of course, My Lord. House Marbrand will always be loyal to the Lannisters - "

"No," Jaime interjected. "Not the Lannisters, not my father...me! Do I have your loyalty?"

"I don't understand," Ser Addam replied.

"I don't like demanding individual oaths. I wouldn't be doing this if this wasn't serious. If the situation should arise that you would have to choose me or my father, who would you choose?"

Ser Addam was sweating in his armor and he was certain it had nothing to do with the sultry weather. Thunder suddenly cracked overhead and the wind picked up, and soon Jaime could feel rain plopping onto his head and arms, but he had eyes only for Ser Addam.

"You have my loyalty, Lord Jaime," his friend finally replied, though in a quiet voice so that no one else could hear.

Jaime nodded. He didn't need to shout to the heavens. Better his father didn't catch wind of this before they arrived. Even as the rain began to pour more earnestly, Jaime kept the party's pace deliberate and steady.

"If-if you don't mind my asking, Lord Jaime, how did you come about that scar?" Ser Addam asked.

Jaime had almost forgotten it was there. His smile became faraway as though he were recalling a fond memory, but in truth it was bitter amusement. "A mammoth bear in the north tried to make a meal of Lord Stark's heir. I put myself between it and him, but...I came away with a souvenir."

"If I may say so, you look even more formidable now."

"Good."

As soon as they entered the Mouth of the Lion, Jaime instantly locked eyes on the unfettered form of Ser Gregor Clegane cleaving through the unfortunate dungeon inhabitants to no doubt sate his bloodlust. Jaime actually grinded his teeth and growled. Yet another slap in the face by his father to see more orders unheeded.

A young man was working the lift up into Casterly Rock and Jaime saw him visibly swallow when he and Ser Addam entered the lift. He paid the lad little mind, but he imagined the glare on his face caused him to fear for his life.

When the lift reached the main floor, Jaime disembarked and took note of the rainbow of cheery voices emanating from the Grand Hall. Two guards flanking the doors stepped forward and opened them wide to reveal all the Lords of the Westerlands, their children and wives gathered around tables bearing food fit for a king. With the onslaught of the storm outside, a vast array of candles had been lit to light the area. Stepping through the doors felt almost like stepping into another world, for as soon as the crowd caught sight of him their voices fell away immediately as they turned to stare at him.

"Ah, my son Jaime has returned to take his place as heir to Casterly Rock," Tywin called out to the Hall, his voice as gold as the Lannister colors. If the light weren't so dim, Jaime thought he might see the closest Tywin came to smiling since his wife died.

The lords and ladies cheered, holding up their goblets in a toast. Jaime continued down the hall, stopping just short of the high table. Now that he was closer, it was difficult to miss the rather prominent placing of Lord Lefford and his daughter Alysanne Lefford. She was a young woman of no more than six-and-ten with her dark hair pinned up, allowing only a few strands of ringlets to frame her face. She smiled widely at him.

She was pretty, but she was not Brienne.

After a gesture from Tywin, he was handed a goblet of wine. "On the morrow, he shall be wed and - "

Clang! Jaime tossed the goblet and the wine splattered all over the floor and the cloth on the high table.

Tywin actually seemed surprised and the lords and ladies affected expressions of offense.

"There will be no wedding," Jaime said firmly. "Tell me, father, why are you here and not currently at King's Landing heading off Renly Baratheon as I ordered?"

A hush fell over the hall.

Tywin stared at him, his face stone, but there was a fire building behind his eyes like he was a volcano ready to erupt.

"Perhaps we should take this conversation elsewhere," Kevan said, from next to his father.

Jaime raised his right arm in a gesture to lead the way. "By all means, Uncle. I would hate to further embarrass my father so publicly," he replied in a voice cracking like thunder.

He swept behind his father and Ser Kevan, with Ser Addam hard on his heels.

The side room they walked into was little more than a private dining area. A fire was roaring in the grate next to the table, but it currently lacked the candles of the main hall, casting them all in a warm orange glow. His father rounded on him, practically growling in a sickening blood red color, "What in Seven Hells do you think you're doing?"

Jaime's eyes appeared to glow in the fire light as he snarled in turn, "What do I think I'm doing? What are you doing? I know you couldn't have missed my signature that explicitly pronounced me as Hand to King Aemon Targaryen, First of his name, Rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men." Fittingly his voice mirrored the dancing light of the fire, swirling around them in bright orange tones.

Ser Kevan looked flabbergasted. His father must not have allowed him to read that letter.

"Your king doesn't have the authority to rule anything yet," Tywin growled. "I will not accept a Targaryen as king over my own grandson."

Jaime blinked at him and then barked out a cold laugh. "Forgive me, I didn't realize you must be going senile, father. Perhaps I am mistaken, but you couldn't have missed the letter stating that my twin Cersei claimed her children as mine. Your precious grandson is a bastard and has no claim to the throne." Ser Addam's eyes bulged at the revelation. Jaime's eyes flickered over to him, "The children are not mine but neither are they Baratheons. We've already sent letters all across the Seven Kingdoms declaring Robert usurped without heirs. The kingship is precarious, the perfect opportunity for Rhaegar Targaryen's last trueborn son to step up and take his throne."

"I never took you for a Targaryen loyalist," Tywin replied, sneering at him.

"I served Rhaegar Targaryen. I am honorbound to serve his son. And as everyone is so fond of saying, a Lannister always pays his debts. I owe him my life when he decided to save my head as it was on the executioner's block."

"You're not Kingsguard anymore."

"That's true. Aemon dismissed me from the service as a favor to you, to gain your loyalty, though saving my life should've been enough to earn that. I come back to Casterly Rock to set things in order and write a few more letters...and not only do I find the army languishing in front of Casterly Rock, but Ser Amory Lorch and Ser Gregor Clegane are both walking around still free as birds. You dare undermine my authority?"

"I disagree with handing them over to the Martells. They are still of use," Tywin replied in a dangerously quiet voice. The red of his voice only seemed to deepen in color.

"Their ilk are not welcome in the kingdom King Aemon is building. I will not risk them raping and pillaging their way through the countryside. Arrest them or it won't be them I send to the Martells, it'll be you," Jaime said, his own voice deep and guttural in his chest like a lion's growl.

The silence in the chamber was absolute. Ser Kevan was aghast at the threat and he kept glancing between Jaime and his brother. Lord Tywin was the one who pulled back first and nodded curtly at him. "Very well, take them."

Jaime cocked his head at his father, then he reached into his cloak and pulled out a folded up piece of paper with the Targaryen seal. The firelight made the three-headed dragon on it appear alive. "While I am setting things in order, this decree signed by the king himself, orders that I shall not marry until I have met the approval of the king."

The anger he saw in his eyes now trembled on his lips. "It is high time you married. You need an heir!"

"That can wait. I will marry when both myself and the king are satisfied with my bride," Jaime said and for the first time since he arrived, he smiled. "Now, if you'll excuse me father, I have prisoners to detain. Ser Addam."

"What of your sister?"

Jaime had just reached the door and just like that his triumph was punctured, but he dared not turn to show his father. He settled for glaring at the door. "You know what she did to me," he replied.

"If what you say is true - "

"There is no escaping it. The whole kingdom will know," Jaime said and his very insides lurched. He'd rather be referred to as the Kingslayer for the rest of his life than known as the man who was raped by his sister, but the very public affair assured that the story would find its way across the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms, if not the world. It was something he was going to have to come to grips with.

"What is to be done with her?"

"If I had my way, she would be dead or spending the rest of her days in the Black Cells. King Aemon, however, has imprisoned her in luxury as befits a lady." With that, he wrenched open the door and strode out.

The chatter of the guests in the hall once more fell away as Jaime emerged from the side chamber and sauntered back down the way he came. Even in the dim light of the candles, there was no mistaking the triumphant smile on his face. No one was close enough to see how hollow it looked.

As they once more descended in the lift, Ser Addam finally spoke up, "Lord Jaime - "

"You can call me, Jaime, Ser Addam. I imagine we'll spend enough time together from here on out."

"Are you sure what you did was wise?"

He struggled to push Cersei from his mind and focused once more on the victory he had claimed over his father. His eyes glittered. "Of course. I outrank my father now. Come hell or high water, he wouldn't dare defy me. I am his heir. Everyone knows my father's feelings about me."

"I have never seen anyone speak like that to your lord father. Not even your Aunt Genna."

"I am the only one who can," Jaime said. "I expect you to accompany the army to King's Landing. Keep a close eye on my father. I want a detailed report when I rejoin you about whether he's been good."

"He will probably suspect that of me," Ser Addam said and his voice trembled a pale yellow.

"Probably. With any luck, that will keep him from straying. Don't take any unnecessary chances."

Ser Gregor Clegane was still in the training yards, but judging by the sprawling bodies that littered the area, he was just finishing. He had cleaved through the men stripped from the waist up and rivulets of blood could be seen trailing down all parts of his skin. Jaime unsheathed his sword and his eyes bore into the giant man.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ser Addam said.

"I want to take Clegane with as few casualties as possible. He knows better than to kill or hurt me or it'll be his life."

"You intend to send him to the Martells. It'll be his life anyway," Ser Addam whispered hysterically at him.

"Relax, Addam. I'm the best sword in the Seven Kingdoms. Gather some men and make sure you have chains large enough and thick enough to contain him. If we have to keep him hog-tied the whole way down to Dorne, then we will."

The men in the area all stared at him as he crossed the grounds with his sword drawn over to where the Mountain towered.

"Ser Gregor Clegane," Jaime announced. The fire orange of his voice cascaded around him in the cave and the rock walls lent his voice authority. The Mountain turned and nodded, taking note of the naked steel in his hand. "You are under arrest for the murder of Aegon Targaryen and the rape and murder of Elia Martell and her children."

Jaime was forced to raise his sword when Clegane swiped at him. Looks like Ser Addam was right, he thought, but paid the thought little mind as his blood roared and his sword sang. This was a dance he knew. For such a large man, the Mountain was quick, but he was nothing compared to Jaime Lannister with his swordhand. It took time and extra strength, but the Mountain was already worn down from his slaughtering of the prisoners. After a few minutes, Jaime smacked the hand with the sword and with another smashed the broad side of his blade into the head of Clegane and he crumbled to the ground in a heap.

He sheathed his sword and turned to see a dozen soldiers had stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle. "Chain him up. He leaves on the morn for Dorne."

Addam fell into step as he once more stepped onto the lift to Casterly Rock.

"Seven Hells, Jaime, I knew you were good, but you fought like the Warrior reborn."

"I was born to fight," Jaime muttered. "I hope you don't mind conducting some of my business here. I have letters to write. Find Ser Amory Lorch and arrest him as well. He won't give you any trouble. And could you also look for a young squire by the name of Podrick Payne? Send him to me."

"As you wish," Addam muttered, still staring as Jaime stepped onto the lift one last time. "Where will I find you?"

"My old quarters should suffice."

He found his room as he had left it nearly sixteen years ago. He swiped a hand across a trunk and found a surprising lack of dust. His father must have ordered his room cleaned in the near vain hope that his golden heir would be released from his vows. One thing his room had always lacked, however, was a desk and he sent the guard off to find him one. Learning to read and write had been like pulling teeth, but Lord Tywin had forced Jaime to persevere. He certainly wouldn't be able to manage being Hand of the King without those skills.

A knock at his door broke into his thoughts and he hurried to open it, expecting Podrick Payne to be standing on the other side and found Alysanne Lefford instead. He hoped his disappointment didn't show on his face.

"What may I do for you, My Lady?"

"May I come in?" She asked, staring earnestly up into his face. She was dressed in sky blue dress that matched the blue on her house's coat of arms.

In another life, a match with Alysanne Lefford would have been reasonable. It was rare for Tywin to wish to marry within the Westerlands, but the Lord Paramount every once in a while extended a hand and elevated one of their most loyal houses. She was certainly pretty with her pale skin and hair so dark it was almost black, though Tywin might have been loathe to stain the Lannister blonde hair and green eyes with brown.

He reluctantly pulled open the door for her. As heir of Casterly Rock, he had to foment goodwill and the least he could do after calling off their marriage was offer her an explanation.

"I presume you're here to ask about our cancelled wedding," he said.

"Your father said that by order of the king, only he could approve of your bride," she said carefully. He had to admire that most women would still be in the midst of charming and cajoling, but she cut right to the heart of the matter. Her voice was a soothing turquoise , but there was no hiding the tremor of anxiety in the ripples. No one could hide such feelings from him anymore.

"That's correct. I have another copy of the decree right here if you want to see it," Jaime replied, pulling out another sealed parchment.

She gingerly accepted it, but hesitated upon seeing the dragon seal. Her fingers brushed it and her breath seemed to hitch. There was no denying the pain the Targaryen's had caused in all their lifetimes and it wasn't unreasonable to expect the lords and ladies to be apprehensive to support the Targaryen's return to the throne. She snapped it open, unfolded it, and read silently. She returned her eyes to his and saw hope.

He had to work to stifle a cruel smile. It would almost be pleasurable to snuff out that hope like one kicked dirt over a dying fire. However hadn't he vowed to himself in his last life that he would no longer treat the ones underneath him like sheep?* He swallowed the cruel words threatening to leave his mouth and stayed quiet.

"So there's a chance I might still win your hand?"

"Impress the king and he may yet approve of our match."

"Is there a chance...for us?"

He didn't answer, but merely cocked his head.

"You love another," she practically whispered and stepped back towards the door, the hope dying in her eyes.

"There are plenty of younger, better men available to you. If you're so inclined, I'm sure the king will arrange a match for you."

There was another knock at the door. Jaime opened it to reveal two men carrying a desk into the room. It was a huge, garish oak desk inlaid with gold, but it would work for his short time at Casterly Rock. He turned to Lady Alysanne. "I don't mean to be rude, My Lady, but I have a lot of work to do. I hope you enjoy your stay at the Rock."

She gave him a wan smile, handed back the royal decree, and departed. He would say she was heartbroken except he had never even met her. If she thought she was in love with him, it was bound to be merely an idea of who he was. Either that or it was because of his status as Lord Lannister, the most powerful house in Westeros.

Brienne, I can't meet you soon enough, he thought mournfully. He had hoped it wouldn't be uncovered for some time that he obviously had a bride in mind, but there were few other reasons to delay or outright cancel a wedding that didn't involve one half of a party dying.

Once situated at his desk, he dismissed the guards and pulled a piece of parchment toward him. Reporting to Aemon would be simple enough, but he decided the first letter he needed to get out of the way was the one to Lord Varys.

He'd had little else to do on the voyage to Casterly Rock, where he was either bored from being unable to train, too ill to even leave his cabin, or too afraid to fall asleep from the endless nightmares that paraded across his eyes at night. Cersei now turned into an undead wight while she was raping him and it was enough to wish he never had to fall asleep again. During those early morning hours, he desperately sought around for something else to think about and his mind settled on the problem of gaining King's Landing. Most notably his thoughts centered around the two most dangerous wild cards: Littlefinger and Varys.

He knew that Varys was...marginally trustworthy. He cared about the stability of the realm and at the time, the realm had been in dangerous upheaval as a result of Mad King Aerys, so he had happily kowtowed to Robert when he arrived to claim the throne. To Robert's credit, the realm enjoyed a relatively stable peace, with only the Ironborn Rebellion to mar it, however it was slowly tipping over into unstable grounds with the way Robert abused the treasury. At the moment, it was safer - for Varys - to remain allied with the Baratheons, but he would be quickly searching for a new alliance with him and Aemon once he saw the board.

Fortunately for Varys, he was immensely valuable with his knowledge of the Red Keep. If they had to crack the Red Keep, then knowledge of the hidden tunnels would be useful. Jaime already knew of some of them from the previous life, but it wouldn't hurt to know a few more and to also warn Varys about tipping the Baratheon brothers off to their whereabouts.

Lord Baelish was another issue altogether.

He and Aemon had been very careful about where they had their conversations and took extra care to keep their voices down. Both men had spies everywhere and he wouldn't be surprised if they already knew information that no one outside of himself, Aemon, Ned, and Ser Barristan knew. It was important to catch Baelish at King's Landing before he could squirrel away somewhere, but he rather doubted that Littlefinger would allow himself to become trapped in a besieged city.

Jaime had no idea how to catch Baelish, so he focused on persuading Varys to their cause. If anyone could catch Lord Baelish, it would be the Master of Whispers.

He was in the middle of the letter - had already restarted twice! - when he heard another knock at the door and shouted for the man to enter. He glanced up at the door opened and found himself staring at a young Podrick Payne who had yet to hit his growth spurt.

"M-my Lord s-sent - " He fell instantly silent when Jaime held a finger up to stop him and continued writing.

It took another ten minutes before he was satisfied with the letter and began folding it and set it aside. Then he waved his fingers over and Pod tentatively stepped closer.

"You are Podrick Payne, cousin to Ser Illyn Payne, correct?"

"Y-yes, My Lord. I am of a lesser branch," Pod said, his voice was a pale yellow squeak and he kept shifting his feet, clenching and unclenching his hands. If he wasn't drenched by the rain, he imagined the boy would be drenched with sweat.

"I am sorry to be the one who has to inform you of this, but your cousin Ser Illyn Payne has died. There was a coup in Winterfell for the kingdom and Ser Illyn unfortunately fell," Jaime said, though there was no remorse in his voice. If he had any fondness for the old knight, it was because he made a good training partner when he'd lost his hand. Though it may have just been his job, Jaime wasn't about to shed tears for a man who tried to kill him.

"Th-thank you, My Lord."

"I imagine King Aemon has already sent a letter to House Payne with his regards and has promised the safe return of his body. However, I think more can be done to recompense House Payne for its loss. How old are you?"

"Four-and-ten, My Lord."

"And how long have you been a squire?"

Pod blinked. The boy was clearly not lacking wits. Why would the heir of Casterly Rock have an interest in him?

"Six months or so, My Lord."

"You don't have to say 'My Lord' after every answer," Jaime said, though he couldn't hide his amusement. "As recompense for your family's unfortunate loss, I am prepared to take you on as my squire."

The boy gasped and appeared to go so weak in the knee that he was on the verge of collapse, but he caught himself and cast his eyes down, blushing profusely. "Y-you honor me, My Lord. Would that I could, but I am already the squire of a brave and honorable knight. I am bound to him," Pod replied. He drew his mouth into a firm line and continued staring down Jaime like he was facing the Stranger himself.

"Your loyalty to your knight is admirable, but loyalty is a two way street. It wouldn't take more than a hundred gold dragons to 'buy' you from your knight. Being loyal is important, but picking the right people to be loyal to is equally important. I will not do wrong by you, Podrick Payne. Though I may be Hand to the King, I will make the time and the effort to train you to sword fight and see you knighted. So what'll it be?"

To his credit, Pod looked torn and he was reluctant to be pulled away from his original duty. Finally he said, "I would be greatly honored to be your squire, My Lord."

"Thank you. Why don't you get plates for both of us. I'll finish my letter writing and we'll discuss our arrangement."

Pod bustled out the door, nearly tripping over his overgrown feet like a puppy. Once the door was closed, Jaime couldn't keep from chuckling.

* - This is the most direct reference to my other fic The Road North. In it, Jaime couldn't help but lament that the last time he encountered Jon Snow, he had belittled him. And Jaime was heading up North to pledge his sword after abandoning Cersei at the end of Season 7.