JAIME LANNISTER

Day 20, 10th Moon, 275 AC

In the yard with Ser Dameon for his swordsmanship lesson, Jaime sparred against the master-at-arms but not at his best.

Cersei was excited about a betrothal to Prince Rhaegar, and at breaking of fast, she'd prattled on to Aunt Genna. She wanted to stun the prince so he would know she was the right queen for him. Rhaegar this, Rhaegar that. Jaime sighed and ducked under a sword that came from the corner of his eye.

When she spoke to Jaime, it was always about Prince Rhaegar bloody Targaryen. Privately, his sister used to talk all the time about her and Jaime being one soul in two bodies and belonging together. Always being together no matter what and coming and leaving the world as one. Not any more.

The way Cersei talked was always passionate, much like their time together. But, since Cersei got the news of a betrothal to the crown prince, she'd stopped spending secret time with Jaime.

A blow struck his helm, and Jaime groaned. His shield could have stopped that, but it was by his side. He should have lifted it.

"That's the second time this morning. You've had enough for today," Ser Dameon said, taking Jaime's sparring sword and shield. "We'll resume tomorrow."

Sparring and training with Ser Dameon was his favourite thing. His best skill. Ser Dameon sending him away for not concentrating made sense, but he hated that it happened. After Ser Dameon's sword struck Jaime's helm the first time, he could have continued training if he'd paid attention.

Ascending Casterly Rock to his bedchamber, Jaime loosened his armour and left it outside his door. Inside, a steamy tub waited for him. He got in quick so he could relax in it. Soothing heat covered his skin, and Jaime rested his head on the rim. His mind drifted while the warmth sunk deeper into him. Eyes closed, he breathed.

A creak of hinges came, a quiet thunk in his bedchamber. Jaime didn't bother opening his eyes. One person liked to sneak into his bedchamber and join him when he bathed. A soft thud of fabric falling on the floor, a slosh of someone getting in. Jaime inhaled when soft hands roamed his body. Warm breath and pleasant pressure on his neck made him stir.

"Open your eyes," Cersei said near his ear. "Show me the eyes we share. They mean we belong together and always." Arms embraced him. "That our love is what it's meant to be."

Jaime kept his eye closed and grimaced. "Then why do you want to be queen? What happens to us, Cersei?"

"In King's Landing, you will always be with me. Always."

He pulled away, opening his eyes. It would show him if Cersei believed what she spoke. "How? I don't want to be Warden of the West, but Father always gets what he wants. And you're excited about the other side of Westeros?"

Cersei stood naked as her nameday and shook her head like he was a fool. "Queens get what they want," she said and came to him. "And I want you with me. My love for you never changed." When she kissed him, he nearly did back. "I want you, Jaime."

Jaime bit his lip and turned his head away. "No. You want me to do something for you again." Then, with a sigh, he met her eyes. "When you join me, you always want something."

"I want you," she murmured in his ear. "My brother and my lover." Arms around him, she pulled Jaime to her and kissed him. Hands guided him to lean down, and she deepened it. "I love my lover."

His hand lifted towards her hair, but he closed it to a fist and lowered it. For a moment, he'd wanted that to be true and kiss her back, but that old letter made him doubt her. When they'd talked about Tyrion being innocent or guilty, Cersei had done what he enjoyed; this time, she said what his heart wanted to hear. He hid his face by kissing her neck. "Whatever you want, Cersei, I'll do it," he said. Jaime would learn the truth.

Hands stroked his back, and deeper breathing was near his ear. "You would?"

"I would," Jaime said against her neck.

"The contract in Father's solar. Steal it for me so I can read it. The marriage contract."

Inside him, something burned, and he stroked her hair once. "Next time, I have a lesson with Father."

As expected, using his shoulders, Cersei pulled herself up against him. It made him inhale, and Jaime didn't try hiding that; it's what she usually heard from him. She kissed him long and hard while he waited for it to be over, but he had to kiss back for that to happen. When she was done, Jaime breathed as though to catch his breath.

"Thank you, Jaime," Cersei said as they dressed. When she was gone, he released a breath.

Jaime sat against a post on his bed with his feet on the quilt. Picking at his breeches while frowning, he shook his head. Like the talk about Tyrion, Cersei had done what she thought worked to get what she wanted from him. This time she wanted the marriage contract between her and Rhaegar Targaryen.

She'd told Jaime she loved him, that she wanted him, and that they belonged together. But, if all she said was true about him and Cersei, not Rhaegar Targaryen, she used a poor way to prove it.

Over to his boots, Jaime shoved them on and marched out of his bedchamber for Maester Gawen's lesson. "Go to the Seven Hells and get it yourself, Cersei," he muttered.

Inside the maester's chamber for his lesson on Westerlands history, he took a seat and scratched at the desk's wood. The ravens in the rookery nearby were louder than usual. Mayhaps a raven from some other house was in there. Maester Gawen never fed the ravens before a lesson. It made them noisy, like now.

Footsteps neared him, and he turned his head. Carrying a sealed letter with red wax but no sigil was Maester Gawen, who held it out to him. Below the wax was his name. "This came for you a minute ago, Jaime," Maester Gawen said kindly. "Are you well?"

Jaime met his eyes and nodded. "I'm fine," he said. He wasn't in the mood for details, nor did he want his father to know what he and Cersei did together. That time when Mother found out years ago, she forbade them from doing it again. Not that they'd listened.

"Ahhh," the maester said. "I used to fight with my brother. I'll prepare for your lesson while you read your letter, Jaime."

He broke the seal and unrolled it. The words were written in the same plain font as the previous nameless letter.

Jaime Lannister,

The world, including your father, will be cruel to Tyrion because of his nameday and disfigurement.

Tywin Lannister cares little for Tyrion. Cersei hates him and mayhaps injure him one day. He needs a brother that cares. Can you be that brother?

Spend time with him when no one will? Make sure he doesn't get hurt? Teach him his letters because Tywin and Cersei likely won't?

He will not forget a kind deed and will love you for it. Help him. Protect him.

Protect him from Cersei.

Will you be the brother Tyrion needs? I know you can be.

The letter's content unnerved Jaime, for none of it was wrong. Jaime glanced over his shoulder. Maester Gawen was at the bookshelf who'd said the letter had just come. Inside the rookery were two cages. One for Casterly Rock's ravens and one for arriving ravens; if there was only one raven in the second cage, he could sneak a reply. If he needed help from Maester Gawen for the correct raven, Jaime would make something up.

The lack of a name at the bottom left a mystery, so Jaime took his chance to write a reply he could send this person. Quill in hand and parchment on the desk, Jaime was quick in case another raven was flying to Casterly Rock right now. One raven in the second cage would be easier than two.

Who are you?

Of course, I'd protect Tyrion. He's my brother.

And…you're not wrong about Cersei.

-Jaime.

Jaime's reply had drops of ink on the parchment, but that didn't matter, and he used the sand shaker to dry the ink. Then, blowing sand off his letter, Jaime dashed into the rookery.

In the second cage sat one raven. Gentle with the tired bird, Jaime tied his letter onto its leg and carried the bird to the opening. "There you go. Fly home," he said, although the raven probably didn't understand him.

Maester Gawen's steps approached. "Who was that to, Jaime?"

"Someone interesting," he said and scratched his head. Getting caught hadn't been the plan.

Maester Gawen smiled with an amused look. "Let's begin our lesson, young lord."

Day 31, 10th Moon, 275 AC

He got a reply three days ago, meaning they lived nearby. The Westerlands, the Reach, the Riverlands. Mayhaps the Iron Islands but unlikely, since krakens ravaged and plundered; they did not care about something they gained nothing from.

Jaime,

I hear there's to be a tourney at Lannisport if Rhaella Targaryen's child survives. If my family attends, hopefully, we can meet.

Can you imagine what could happen if I gave my name to House Lannister? It could endanger my family, for Lord Tywin would mayhaps see a threat where there is none.

I won't risk what Tywin did to his enemies, Tarbeck and Reyne. Those houses are extinct. My House won't be added to that list.

Until the tourney, Jaime.

He burnt all three letters that day for good measure since the girl worried about her family. Jaime was at a loss why this person, he'd assumed it was a girl by the writer's words, would bother with all she had done. The only people to benefit from doing it were he and Tyrion.

And this girl claimed she might risk her family just with her name. She'd said Father would see a threat in the letters, but Jaime hadn't seen anything wrong about them. There was no suggestion of betraying houses or treason against King Aerys II.

Although the letters made him sad when it turned out the information and questions were right, he was glad she'd sent them, whoever she was. The first one opened his eyes to what Cersei did; manipulate him by using his want of someone's love. Mother was the one who had loved him, while Father was always busy and cold. Mother died bringing Tyrion into the world, and Father hated Jaime's babe brother for it.

The second letter told him things he would've done anyway. Father and Cersei hated Tyrion, leaving Jaime, Aunt Genna and Uncle Kev to look after him. Uncle Tyg and Uncle Gery were at Casterly Rock once in a while, and they liked Tyrion too.

This girl seemed interested in helping him and his brother. He wanted to meet her. But if the queen had another dead babe, there would be no tourney. Meant no meeting this secret girl.

Jaime entered the Lord's solar for his lesson with his father. He'd already had another lesson with Father since Cersei asked Jaime for the contract, but she could steal it herself if she wanted it. She was mad at him at the moment.

"Father," he said and sat at the side of the desk. Father said nothing, but the man finished a letter and rearranged the desk, including a map of the southron half of Westeros. "This isn't the normal map," Jaime said and looked at Father.

"It's not." Father used a dry quill to point. "Trading techniques; negotiations, speed, and price. The Westerlands will be finding a new food supplier. We currently purchase from the Reach, but Lady Olenna Tyrell demands too much gold for our required quantity. She will not exploit our wealth."

Jaime rubbed his chin and searched the map for kingdoms with good land for food. "But that leaves the Riverlands and the Vale."

"Indeed. Tell me, since Highgarden, like the Vale, is a longer journey than Riverrun, what is appropriate to broker an agreement with Lord Tully? Ravens or in person?"

There was a short distance between Casterly Rock and Riverrun. It might take three weeks to get there with a wheelhouse unless horses were changed to keep them strong and fresh. "I would go in person…They're close, and our House could get a better price."

"Correct. Using ravens tells a supplier you're not serious. The food would cost more without in-person negotiations," It was almost praise from Father. "You were much quicker than Cersei in grasping the import of such trade conduct. With your aunt and Uncle Kevan, you and Cersei will depart for Riverrun in a moon."

Jaime nodded but faltered. "Will Tyrion be coming too, Father?"

His father grimaced but turned to Jaime. "I have other affairs in the Westerlands. He will go with you."

To keep a smile off his face was a challenge. On the way to Riverrun, Aunt Genna would be in a wheelhouse with Tyrion. She would keep him safer from Cersei than Jaime could in the Rock. Casterly Rock was too big to watch Tyrion all the time. And Uncle Kev would surely let Jaime ride.

"We will host a tourney in a few moons, Jaime," Father said, which sparked Jaime's interest. "Go and find a location outside Lannisport for appropriate tourney grounds. Large enough for the great houses and their bannermen. You will tell me where when you have."

"I will," Jaime said; within him rose an urge to race out. Doing it meant he could go for a ride.

"Go."

He walked like a lord until outside the Lord's solar. In the halls, Jaime took off for the stables. Horseback was a favourite activity; his heart would race, and he came alive every time. It was him and his horse with land flying beneath his feet. The wind, the rush; he smiled.

With no waste of time, Jaime helped tack his courser. They were shorter than destriers but faster. It was one of the best types of horses a knight could own. One day, he would be a knight. Not just a knight but one who was a true knight. Those were the most honourable men. He wanted to be one just like Ser Arthur Dayne. The youngest true knight ever dubbed.

Jaime prayed Ser Arthur was coming to the tourney so he could meet him. It was rare that Jaime prayed for anything.

Boosted up into the saddle by Ser Dameon, Jaime nodded to him and rode out through Lion's Mouth. The only entrance into Casterly Rock, a vast cave as broad as twenty riders and the ceiling half as high. Battlements had been carved into all three sides of the tall cave. Yet, no assault had ever breached Casterly Rock. A massive rock three times taller than the Wall.

Ahead were the city walls of Lannisport, less than a mile away. His cousins lived there in a castle made of stone and mortar instead of carved solid rock like Casterly Rock.

A quarter-mile from Lannisport, Jaime found a light-breezed area large enough for tourney grounds the size Father wanted. Room for wheelhouses and plenty for stands to fit hundreds, mayhaps thousands, of people.

He'd come here alone and glanced around to check he still was. Satisfied, Jaime imagined a wooden jousting barrier before him and lifted a hand as if holding a lance. Sword in hand as though it was a lance. He spurred his horse into a charge. Pictures of what he could one day compete in flashed before his eyes until he slowed to a walk.

Father mayhaps said Jaime was too young to be a jouster, but that didn't keep him from the dream. One day he would compete in his first tourney, determined to win and prove himself skilled to Father and his family.

If the gods were good, he would get to see his favourite knight in the tourney and mayhaps meet him. Ask him questions. Ser Arthur Dayne was a true knight, and people said he was a brilliant swordsman. So good, honourable, and only seven and ten. He couldn't wait to talk to the knight. Jaime rubbed the neck of his horse. It nickered beneath him.

"Woo!" a man cheered. Jaime turned in his saddle and grinned. Uncle Gerion, but he called him 'Uncle Gery', was on a horse and approached until they were side by side. "You were made for the saddle, Jaime."

"Thank you, Uncle Gery. I didn't know you were coming home." A wave of black and red rushed past to Lannisport, which prompted Jaime to turn in the saddle for a better look.

"They're gone, Jaime, but I do know one thing. That was a sand steed. A prominent mount in Dorne. You don't get a red mane and tail like that anywhere else," Uncle Gery said, smiling and took off his Lannister crimson doublet to put it in a saddlebag. "And your father hates Dornish folk. Give me your Lannister doublet. We can find out what this hasty fellow is up to," he said and cheekily grinned. "If good ol' Tywin is in Lannisport, I'll say I dragged you there."

"But you're not," Jaime said. "I'm done here, but I suppose I'm curious now."

Uncle Gery bumped Jaime's shoulder with his. "Our secret then," Uncle Gery said and got his horse to walk. "Done here? What were you doing, Jaime?" Uncle Gery quickened to a canter.

Jaime matched his horse to Uncle Gery's cantering. "Father told me to find a good place for big tourney grounds and tell him," he said. "If the Targaryens get a new prince or princess, Father's hosting a tourney here."

His uncle nodded. "That's why I came home. There's no better place to train for a tourney than where the tourney is going to be."

Jaime perked up in the saddle while their horses walked within the streets of Lannisport. "Do you know if Uncle Tyg is coming?" he asked, following Uncle Gery towards Lannisport Castle and entering its yard.

Uncle Gery shrugged. "Tyg and your father…we'll see, Jaime."

They dismounted, and the reins were handed over to stableboys. Uncle Gery took a coin purse from a saddlebag and approached Jaime with a glint in his eyes. "Now, I'd wager if your father was in Lannisport, he'd be glaring daggers at the Dornishman."

Jaime turned to his uncle and shook his head. "Why would Father hate them?" he asked and followed his uncle.

"Another time, Jaime. I want to have fun with my nephew," Uncle Gery said and strolled out of the gatehouse of the Lannisport Lannisters castle. "Let's find that sand steed."

The markets were a short walk away, and Jaime wanted to browse the weapons there. "Uncle Gery? Can we go to the markets? I want to have a look-," Jaime said, but his uncle also spoke.

"-at the weaponry section," Uncle Gery said with Jaime and patted his shoulder. "I should have known. Let's go then, future knight."

The markets of Lannisport were crowded and loud. Merchants shouted prices and what was for sale while haggling customers tried to suggest a price over the din. Jaime grinned and grabbed his uncle's hand to pull him towards the weaponry section.

Sometimes it was quality steel, occasionally exotic and strange to Jaime, but swords were where he excelled, and he always wanted to know what new inventions or designs were available. What he could be fighting against in the future too.

There was a way to go yet as they weaved through the Westerosi and foreign herb and medicine section. However, Jaime hid his face and made for the shade to stay out of sight. Uncle Gery's shadow was right behind him.

Up ahead and tall among the customers, Father was in an unpleasant conversation with a stiff expression. He was always serious in Casterly Rock and only had a face like a stone when angry or annoyed.

Jaime, quiet among the hustle of the port markets, ventured closer to see who was speaking to Father. "Stay here, Uncle Gery," he whispered. A chuckle was the only reply. Then, itching to know what angered his father, Jaime crept up until he had to hide under a table to stay out of Father's sight.

Father faced the stall, but the person he spoke to was closest to Jaime. He didn't dare peek, or Father would catch him.

"-at Lannisport for business of no concern to you, Lord Tywin," said a thick voice that seemed vaguely familiar. "Lion of Lannister questioning me in front of the merchants," the man said to Father, tone fearless. "Unwise after the increased tax you charged them for a time, I hear," he taunted.

Salty Dornishmen had accents like this man; Father had had the maester teach him how to recognise the people of the other kingdoms, claiming it was necessary. It was proving useful now, but Jaime would never give Father that satisfaction by saying so.

Father scowled at the reminder of what he'd told Jaime had never been his decision but King Aerys'. During that lesson, Jaime hadn't been overly interested since he couldn't honestly imagine himself ruling the Westerlands and being happy about it. Instead, he cared for people, not having power over them. Because of his thoughts, Jaime missed Father's reply and needed to guess based on the stranger's answer.

"My business is not with you, Tywin Lannister," the Salty Dornishman dismissed. "Would I not be at Casterly Rock if it was?"

Father would be angry, but his calm face hid Father's mood behind it. Jaime remained concealed under the table. "What do you want, Martell?" Father said in a low volume that Jaime almost missed. There must be a grudge or something between them.

The member of House Martell scoffed. "I am here on business. Good day, Lord Tywin." Pieces of metal landed on the wood above Jaime's head, and the Dornishman left with his back to Father the whole time. It would be brilliant if Jaime had the gall to deny Father when he wanted, but there'd be consequences if Jaime refused his father.

Jaime stayed under the table and waited until Father was gone. No one walked away from Father like that without giving Lord Lannister what he wanted. Father always got what he wanted because everyone feared him. But not that Martell.

With both of them gone, he had the choice to walk, but Jaime slipped away through shadows and under tables.

A hand grabbed him. He gasped. "Got you, Nephew."

Jaime sighed; the race of his heart slowed. "Don't do that. Gods, Uncle."

Uncle Gery sniggered and pulled him away from the markets. "This way. He left the markets for the taverns. Let's find him. He pissed off your father, so he's in my good books."

He cooperated and jogged to keep up with his uncle. "Father called him 'Martell'. They didn't really like each other," he said. His uncle raised an eyebrow.

"Did he now?" Uncle Gery said with a grin. "Oh, there he goes. I am not missing this."

"Father or the Dornishman?"

His uncle barked a laugh. "Do you think I want to see your father in a mood? Who am I jesting? He's always in a bloody mood. The Dornishman, Jaime." They entered a tavern full of people with a spare table or two. "Get the table our fellow has his back to."

With swift strides, Jaime kept his head down, claimed a seat and swung his feet onto the other. He had an eye on the people until his uncle was in sight with two tankards. Uncle Gery put one in front of Jaime.

Jaime gaped. "Uncle, are you mad? Father would have my hide," Jaime said and lowered his feet.

His uncle grinned and shook his head. "Getting you drunk is not the plan, Jaime. It's diluted ale; weak. Mine's wine," Uncle Gery said and took a gulp of his own. "Keep your hands off mine, and you'll be fine. So…I snuck a look at his face, and it's Oberyn Martell."

Jaime blinked. The Salty Dornishman was Princess Mariah Martell's son and wanted Cersei betrothed to him years ago; Father rejected it. "What is he doing here?"

Uncle Gery shrugged. "Which road was he on when he passed? I didn't see."

"River Road. He was north of us, not south."

"Alright, now hush, I want to listen."

Two tables in front of them, Oberyn Martell talking to a minstrel who spoke too quietly for Jaime to hear. He glanced at his uncle.

"They're talking of a song about a Tully girl," his uncle said. "What are the names of Hoster Tully's daughters, and how old? I normally ignore those details."

Jaime nodded and took a sip of the ale. It was weak. "Catelyn and Lysa. One my age, and Catelyn is two years older," he whispered so no one would hear. "Why?"

"Well then, it sounds like Catelyn Tully has a twin who's jumped out of the river," Uncle Gery said and tilted his head towards the two men. Prince Oberyn handed the minstrel a gold dragon. "More than he makes in a moon. Well, we're here. Might as well listen."

"A trout of one-and-ten,

Swam home again,

And people talked of her since then."

"They say that she is beauty.

They say that she is grace.

But don't say it near a lion's face."

"Knock on the lion's door,

You'll hear her roar,

The Westeros beauty she is no more.

"Sansa cares for the people.

She's kind and never shouts.

But look out,

A lion's about.

Cersei, oh hates the Tully trout."

"Entranced by Sansa's beauty.

Entranced by Sansa's grace.

You'll want to steal a kiss,

And not miss.

To Riverrun, you best be swift."

"Cersei will oh hate her,

But so much more oh later.

When Sansa blooms,

The men will swoon,

And want to be a lucky groom."

Within the tavern, copper coins were tossed into a hat, and the Dornish prince took a draught and clapped.

A hand rested on Jaime's shoulder and gave a squeeze. Then, attention on Uncle Gery, who lowered his hand to the table, Jaime met his eyes.

Uncle Gery frowned. "I didn't know your sister was going to be mocked, Jaime. I'm sorry. Did you want to leave?"

Jaime shrugged and took a slow drink. "Let's go.".