Tyrion grinned playfully."Ha! Brother, that's wishful thinking. Since when does a Lannister aspire to the laughable notion of happiness? All our lives we have sought nothing but boundless power."
His tone shifted, now laced with biting sarcasm.
Jai gave a bitter shrug.
The two Lannister brothers fell silent, each lost in his own thoughts.
After so ti, one of Queen Cersei's ladies-in-waiting approached with asured grace, bending into a respectful curtsey."Ser Jai, Her Grace the Queen requests your presence."
Tyrion cut in at once."My delicate sister hasn't thought to also summon her most beloved little brother? Hmm… judging from your face, I see I've not been invited!"
He hopped down from the balustrade, straightened his clothes, and started off."If Cersei sees now, her mood will only sour further. Farewell, brother—ever the one who wishes for her happiness!"
With that, Tyrion turned his back, raising his right hand to wave lazily without slowing his stride.
Jai watched the small figure go, sensing the loneliness beneath it. He opened his mouth but said nothing.
He knew Tyrion had a kind heart. Cersei's loathing for him was never hidden, yet Tyrion had never truly hated her in return. On the contrary, he always longed for familial affection.
Whenever Cersei found herself in trouble, Tyrion's small shadow would linger sowhere nearby—always close, never near enough to be seen.
Jai loved his brother, but his beloved sister had despised Tyrion since birth. He had tried to change it once and failed. Now, all he hoped was that—for his sake—the bond between them would not grow worse.
Red Keep – the Queen's Chambers
Seated before her vanity, Cersei seed utterly unconcerned that anyone might see the marks on her face. Chin tilted slightly upward, lips curved in a cold smile, she said in a voice that froze the air:"Jai, I want you to kill Robert."
The words jolted Jai. He gripped her delicate shoulders."Cersei, I understand your anger, but we cannot be rash. Robert is the king, and I am a Kingsguard sworn to him. Besides—"
Cersei shoved him away with scorn, as though hearing sothing laughable."Kingslayer Jai, are you lecturing about the duties of the Kingsguard?"
At those three words—Kingslayer—Jai's hands curled slightly into fists, a flicker of anger crossing his face.
He forced it down and spoke in a low, steady tone."You must not act in haste. Robert will not be easily killed. A single misstep could bring disaster on the Lannisters. Father would never forgive us."
The ntion of Tywin Lannister gave Cersei pause. mories of the old lion's cold stare—one that could still her very breath—rose unbidden. She had thought them long gone since becoming queen, yet they returned now, sharp and terrifyingly vivid.
Jai moved behind her and drew her gently into his arms.
Cersei, still simring, tried to pull away. When she failed, she let him hold her.
He felt her warmth and was willing to bear every part of her nature.
Cersei's eyes trembled slightly, but her mind had drifted far from Jai—to Baron Gawen Crabb, far away on the Crab Claw Peninsula.
She decided the ti had co to claim a sword for herself—one not bound to House Lannister or any other, a blade truly her own.
From the intelligence Grand Maester Pycelle had provided, this young baron was a gifted commander, having defeated twenty thousand n with only a thousand.
A sharp enough sword indeed.
Whispers Hall – the Lord's Study
Gawen took a large swallow of sour red wine, a taste he found oddly nostalgic—though, he frowned, it still wasn't good.
Back in Whispers Hall, he seed in fine spirits."So, Maester Arl, you told the Citadel we defeated twenty thousand with a thousand?"
Arl grinned, showing the few teeth he had left."I was going to say thirty thousand, but I worried the old n might die of fright, so I lowered the number—hohoho."
Gawen smiled faintly."My thanks, Maester, for your unwavering support."
The old man rose unsteadily and bowed his head."My lord, you are right—knowing how to display one's strength is an important weapon in the ga of power. Entering the Red Keep ans joining the ga itself. To be unknown brings not only scorn but silent death. I rely wanted the great lords to hear—through the Citadel—that Lord Randyll Tarly is not the only man in Westeros who knows how to wage war."
"You have a kind heart, worrying the Citadel might one day hold accountable and tarnish my na. But I am old, and all I wish now is to serve you while I can still move. My loyalty is to you first, always."
Arl gave a sly wink."Now that you've shown the realm your military prowess, I needn't worry you'll be forced to climb into so noblewoman's bed for the sake of our lands."
Gawen threw back his head and laughed.
Whispers Hall – the Smithy
Mondon stood with arms outstretched, great belly thrust forward, as the smiths took his asurents.
One bowed respectfully."Master Mondon, your fra is impressive—it will take as much steel as two and a half suits of plate."
Herschel asked,"How long to make a full set?"
"If we have the manpower, two months, Steward."
Herschel considered a mont, hands resting on a belly far smaller than Mondon's."Lord Gawen leaves in no more than a week, and Mondon will accompany him. For now, make him a breastplate. In the anti, take a set of chainmail, break it down, and rework it to his size…"
He gave a firm nod."You have five days."
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