Updated 4/14/2019: Edited for a smoother read.

Chapter 26

Jaime VIII

"You have Uncle Gerion's sword."

"He's my uncle. Not yours."

"It's Valyrian steel, right?"

"Can we touch it?"

"I don't think so."

"Uncle Gerion says you're the best sword in the Seven Kingdoms. Can you show us?"

"It's not safe to train on the ship."

"When we get to dry land then?"

Jaime closed his eyes and prayed to the Gods for infinite patience. One of David's men had his family with him and his identical twin boys refused to leave him alone. They had been chased off multiple times by Gerion, David, or the boys' own father, Cyrus, but like moths drawn to flame, they eventually wound their way back to him. He had tried pushing them toward Pod who was learning how to tie knots with one of the crewmembers, but they handwaved it away claiming they'd already learned that.

He could hardly blame them. Even he was antsy being confined to the ship, unable to train. He could only imagine the turmoil the seven-year-old boys were feeling, unable to expend their childish energy. Even so, he wished they would follow their sister's example. She was older and quieter, having a tendency to keep to herself, but when her own energy became too much she took to dancing on the deck. It was unlike any dancing he'd ever seen and when he first saw it, he came to the conclusion that the family was some variant of traveling troupe.

The whole family had olive skin, with dark eyes, and black hair. Every night the father, Cyrus, entertained the crew with music either on the violin or cello. Jaime would deny if anyone asked, but evenings had become his favorite time of night. The swirl and dance of the music in a rainbow of colors soothed his stressed mind and he found after listening to it that he slept easier and had fewer nightmares. He was already thinking about hiring the entire family to be Lannister musicians for the rest of their days.

However, these boys were making him reconsider that position.

"Boys, what has your father and David told you about bothering the Hand of the King?"

The two comically winced at the same time and very slowly turned to their mother's very stern face.

Jaime breathed a sigh of relief. For all that their father Cyrus was clearly a peasant, his wife carried herself with the unmistakable bearing of a noblewoman. She wore what appeared to be a dress, though it was open at the waist revealing breeches underneath. Despite the cheap quality of the material, her clothes - and that of her family's - were impeccably neat. Right now she was glaring at her sons not unlike how Drogon had glared at him.

"We just...we're just curious!" One of them wailed.

"Be that as it may, he clearly does not wish to keep your company. I suggest you study a little harder in your etiquette lessons so that you know the difference."

"We're bored!"

Her eyebrows went up in warning. "Say that again and I'm sure I can convince the captain to allow you to clean this ship from stem to stern." They now trembled and shook their heads with great vigor. "Now, find something to do or I will find it for you!"

They dashed off below deck, very nearly falling down the stairs.

"I apologize for my sons' behavior. It won't happen again," she said and then glided away to join her daughter.

He stared after her, surprised at the lack of interaction. Actually, aside from the boys and Uncle Gerion, all the rest of David's people gave him a rather wide berth, eying him warily. Vicente, the man who rescued him and Pod from the cells, gave him a curt nod when he caught him watching and Callum smiled, but the rest of the half dozen or so of David's people seemed to refuse to get near him.

Just as well, he wasn't about to tell them anything.

"I see the cubs have scampered off. Did mother give them a fright?"

Jaime was jarred from his thoughts and turned to David, who was grinning in amusement with his uncle standing behind him looking uncommonly serious. He glared at the old man.

David had been unable to convince the captain to head straight for the Reach. They had been forced to put in at Lannisport, again, to unload the other merchants on board and to restock the ship for supplies. The delay irritated Jaime, but he decided to take advantage of it and hustled himself and Pod back to Casterly Rock for a much needed bath, supplies, clothes, and a contingent of one hundred soldiers. He had expected that Gerion would at least stay behind, but it seems that David had decided to tack his group onto Jaime's.

He really didn't want to think about the impression he'd give to the Tyrells when he rode up to High Garden with a ragtag group of nomads, but it seemed that for whatever reason David decided to stick with Jaime, he wasn't going to be deterred from it.

However it was David's men who freed him from the Ironborn. He owed them. Lannisters didn't go back on their debts, so he couldn't order them away. It also meant that he'd be ordering his uncle away too. He'd have to put up with them for the time being.

Jaime had just turned away from glaring at David to glare at the sea between him and the Reach when David said, "I want information."

"What?"

"I want to know more about this war that you're fighting."

"Information is valuable. Even if there was a price, you'd never be able to pay it," Jaime replied.

"I have my own wealth of valuable information. We could arrange a trade."

"No," Jaime snapped.

"Jaime, please," Gerion said. "You promised you'd tell me more about this war."

"Yes, I'll tell you. I won't tell him."

David gave him a wry look. "If I'm going to follow you, I'm going to need to know more."

"I didn't invite you along. Feel free to part ways with me once we reach High Garden."

Jaime smiled in smug satisfaction. Gerion sighed in exasperation and ran a hand over his face, but David adopted an expression of determination that suggested Jaime's headache was not over.

"What if I told you I could give you something that would give you the upper hand in your war?"

Jaime barked a laugh. "I doubt there's any such thing that you can give me."

This time it was David who smiled in knowing, but there was an odd excitement in his eyes. "Do you know what a cipher is?"

Jaime blinked at him. "No."

"You write letters to your king, I'm sure, but there's information that you're unable to tell him for fear of the letter getting intercepted, am I right?"

Jaime remained stubbornly quiet, but David seemed to take it as affirmation.

"What if I told you there's a way for you to write all the information you want your king to know without the possibility of anyone being able to understand it?"

Jaime narrowed his eyes. "Explain."

"Only if you give me the information that I want."

Jaime gritted his teeth in annoyance and then said, "Fine, I'll give you as much information as I feel safe giving you. In return, you'll teach me about this cipher trick and I'll get my own questions answered about you."

"It's a deal then," David said, holding his hand out.

Jaime glanced at it like it held a spider and the old man was daring him to take it.

"Deal's not sealed until you take the hand," David said. His smile seemed suddenly flat and there was a cold, calculating in his eyes that Jaime misliked. All the same, he took the hand and squeezed the bones until they cracked. David didn't even flinch. "Now, if you'll follow me, we'll do that information exchange."

"Not here. I would prefer the whole ship didn't hear," Jaime said quietly.

David gave him another irritated look and then looked over at the young girl by her mother. "Lucille!"

"What?"

"Why don't you play your violin for me? We could use some music."

For a girl young enough to not have flowered, she gave him a knowing look, and obediently led the way below deck. She stopped off at a side room while David led them even further into the ship. He knocked on a door and then opened it to reveal a small room with a table and no windows. Once the door was closed, they sat in silence for a moment until the pleasant tones of a violin started up just outside their door.

Jaime breathed in deeply and felt the tension that seemed to have become his constant companion ease up as the music ranged from a calm and low deep blue to playful greens and yellow. He closed his eyes as the music circled around him and when he opened them, David was watching him carefully.

"No one can hear us here," David said, barely audible over the violin. "So tell me, how did this whole thing start?"

Jaime frowned, glancing between David and Gerion, considering how much detail he should go into. It wasn't exactly a secret has to how the coup had happened. The lords in the North and possibly the Riverlands would know by now. The biggest issue was how much detail to go into about what led to him on the chopping block. His very insides lurched at having to speak, even tangentially, about his rape, but it was either he was known as the man who was raped by his sister or the man who fucked his sister.

He heaved a great sigh and was grateful again for the music. He would need it to get through retelling his rape.

So he started with the hunt outside Winterfell and how the mammoth bear attacked him. That transitioned to being unconscious for a week when he woke up to Cersei raping him. Gerion swore loudly and his face flushed in anger. David remained impassive, but he seemed to grow more intense. He talked of his travesty of a trial and then spoke of the day of his execution and how his former squire stepped forward and declared himself king.

"Seven hells, Jaime! What's happened to Cersei?" Gerion demanded.

"She's going to be shipped to somewhere isolated. She wasn't yet taken care of when I left."

"That's not everything," David simply said.

"What?"

"You're not telling us everything."

"That is everything."

"No it's not. Why the hell would King Aemon risk his and his entire family's life for your neck? It can't be because you were his mentor for...a month? There has to be more to it," David said.

Jaime glared at David. He'd hoped that hearing about his rape might prevent anyone from seeing the holes in the rest of the story.

"Fine. I knew he was Rhaegar's last true son before I ever went to Winterfell."

"You chose to squire him to eventually overthrow King Robert. That makes more sense," David said, smirking in self-satisfaction.

"You intended to overthrow Robert from the start?" Gerion whispered.

"You have to understand how agonizing it was to serve him and my sister. Never have I met two people who least deserved their positions," Jaime growled and shuddered as he thought back to all the years he had been forced to stand outside their quarters.

Gerion seemed to want to say more, but he glanced at David and decided against it. David was focused on a point away from both of them and he was rubbing his cheek as he thought.

"Now, I get my information. What about this cipher business?"

This jogged David's attention and he said, "Hmm? Oh the cipher? It's not too difficult. Gerion, would you fetch some parchment? And tell Lucille that her violin playing was wonderful, but no longer necessary."

Once Gerion left and the violin ceased its playing, Jaime said, "Now, I want to know about you. Who are you? Where did you come from?"

David smiled pleasantly at him. "Not much to say, truth be told."

"You are more than you pretend to be."

"No, I'm just smarter and more fortunate than the average layman. I was born to servants at Seaguard, the seat of the Mallisters. My mother assisted the maester and my father was a blacksmith. Since my mother was close to the maester, he taught me my letters and sums. The maester was quite delighted in my intelligence and was ready to write me a recommendation to the Citadel when the War of the Ninepenny Kings broke out. I was old enough to be recruited and was thrown into that war. Even back then I didn't like killing. Eventually they realized how useless I was as a fighter and they stuck me in the healing unit that assisted maesters. Thanks to my mother's training, I found my niche and made myself invaluable. After the war was done, I headed off to the Citadel to become a maester. Unfortunately, the Citadel and I had our disagreements."

"You're a banned student?" Jaime asked, bristling.

"Such hostility," David said, though he chuckled at Jaime's alarm. "I was not banned from the Citadel. I left. I felt the Maesters were stuck in their ways when it came to healing their patients. Even though I made great gains studying herbs, their uses, and invented my own potions, they refused to have anything to do with them. I got tired of fighting them and left, crossing the Narrow Sea to the Free Cities to practice healing. I traveled around with various merchants and companies, offering healing. I would get paid by wealthy nobles and turn around and help the poor and needy. They're the ones who need it most after all."

"I eventually started to collect pupils. Julian Grey was first. He was the third son of a Westerosi minor house and had decided to travel the world when he stumbled across me. He was also a prospective maester, but decided to assist me instead. Picked up Cyrus and his wife. Eventually your uncle Gerion. So on and so forth."

The door popped up and Gerion stepped in once more with a piece of parchment, quill, ink, and a small book.

"Ah, thank you, Gerion."

"Eventually a wealthy merchant decided to sponsor us and I was able to set up a more permanent shop for a few years. Gerion here talked about going back to Westeros often, so eventually I decided to part ways with the merchant and here we are," David replied as he spread the parchment out. "Now, you can write your message out plain as day, but first you need a key to correlate the letters, so that the person with the key can decipher it when the message reaches them.

He wrote 'I am a healer' the top of the parchment in a neat and tidy scrawl. "Now, pick a word and start it at the beginning of your alphabet. I prefer to use a passage from a book because it's unlikely for anyone to ever discover it. Make sure you know the name of the book, page, and how many paragraphs into the chapter to find your word. Be aware that if something has double letters in it then the two letters will have to correspond to only one letter. For demonstration, though, let's take your name Lannister for a moment."

He wrote Lannister out and then finished off the rest of the letters. Then he wrote another sentence that as far as Jaime could tell was absolute gibberish. Then he underlined the gibberish sentence. "This sentence corresponds with the one I wrote above it, 'I am a healer.'"

Jaime blinked and studied the parchment carefully. It was surprisingly simple. Did Varys and Littlefinger know of this? He'd never seen them write letters, but perhaps they did. He certainly never remembered seeing anything like this in either his last life or in this one. He felt a rush of blood in his veins and he shivered in excitement.

This could very well change the way all wars are fought, he thought as he continued to study the script. It simultaneously excited and terrified him.