Gawen hesitated.
For the sake of strength and advancent, with his knowledge of the tale, Gawen chose—out of practical self-interest—to temporarily join Queen Cersei's camp.
Indeed, whether great or small, nothing in King's Landing ever happened without cause.
To sabotage the bond between king and queen required a hidden hand of considerable ambition. Even before the ga's true pieces were set upon the board, the undercurrents of intrigue had already begun to surge.
Those who stood to profit from such matters proved their own strength, marking themselves as true players in the ga of thrones—or as factions of conspirators, bound together by shared ambition.
Gawen's mind quickly nad the few houses most likely to be involved.
Feigning avoidance, Gawen signaled Mondon to prepare him a plate of stewed at.
He deliberately shifted aside, dodging the piercing stare of Jai Lannister.
Mondon placed a generous cut of lamb onto the plate and presented it like a treasured gift.
Gawen chewed slowly, lowering his lashes as he savored the tenderness of the broth-soaked at. The fatigue of a dozen hours of strain seed to vanish in an instant.
Jai sensed that Gawen had noticed sothing and pressed to continue—but Gawen was clearly evading him.
Watching Gawen relish the food, Jai's temper flared. "Little savage, are you planning to feast alone? Not even offering your guest a share?"
Gawen blinked in mock surprise, swallowing his mouthful. "Do Lannisters eat lamb stew as well?"
Jai gave a short, incredulous laugh. "What do you think? That Lannisters dine on gold?"
Gawen chuckled and ordered Mondon to serve Ser Jai at once.
Accepting the plate, Jai set aside his knightly grace and tore into the at with a hearty bite. To his surprise, the plain fare tasted far better than expected.
After a while, Jai spoke: "Baron Crabb, I know I lack the sharpness you possess. If you've uncovered anything, I'd ask you to confide in . I could even keep it from Cersei—consider it a debt owed. And Lannisters always pay their debts."
At that, Gawen's ears twitched, as though he had heard the clink of golden dragons.
He paused, his expression turning grave, then sighed. "Ser Mondon, take the at and keep watch around us. Nothing—no one—must co near."
"Nothing?" The clever soldier understood at once, quickly gathering the food and moving off to rally the distant guards, spreading the periter.
Gawen pulled his chair closer to Jai's and sat again. "Ser Jai, I can feel a black net descending over Her Grace. It hangs above Queen Cersei now—woven into the night itself, unseen yet already at work."
Jai's pupils narrowed. The fog he had never noticed before seed pierced by Gawen's words.
Though Gawen had offered no nas, his description conjured thoughts: Robert and Cersei's quarrels, each more vicious than the last.
"Do you know who it is?" Jai pressed. "What do they want?"
Gawen did not flinch. "As for the culprit, I'll not say. But the aim is easy to guess."
He paused, then continued: "To replace Her Grace."
Jai shot to his feet, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, veins standing out along his wrist. Fury burned in his eyes.
And yet, beneath the rage, a forbidden thought whispered: If Cersei were no longer queen… could I take her away from King's Landing, back to Casterly Rock?
Gawen read the flicker of conflict on Jai's face, and inwardly scorned the knight's naivety. Outwardly, he acted as though he had seen nothing.
"Ser Jai," he said calmly, "only death of the body—or a stain upon one's na so deep it cannot be cleansed—could make way for a new queen under law."
Jai's fury vanished, replaced by a jolt of dread.
Forcing himself back into his seat, he glanced at Gawen. The boy's face was solemn, unaware of his lapse. Jai exhaled slowly, relieved.
To mask his turmoil, Jai spoke. "Baron Crabb, your guess may well be right. This year more than any other, I've felt sothing amiss—vexing without reason. Your words bring clarity."
Inwardly, Jai felt an odd trace of unease at Gawen's perception—and laughed at himself for it.
Then, as if driven by guilt, he murmured, "I've failed her. Cersei stands in peril, and I… I have failed her…"
Gawen's heart stirred, though his face betrayed nothing. He spoke in a reassuring tone: "Though she is queen, to you, Her Grace is first and always family."
"Love blinds you within the walls, while those of us outside can see the changes more clearly. But rember—Her Grace's trust in you is absolute. Matters have not yet gone beyond repair. You hold the sword, Ser Jai, and even the darkest webs can be cut apart."
His voice was steady, calm, tinged with youthful earnestness yet bearing a weight that instilled confidence.
From Gawen's gaze, Jai felt not only care and trust—but a glimr of reverence.
As a Kingsguard knight, celebrated as Westeros's finest swordsman, Jai was unsurprised by such respect. Yet to his own surprise, his regard for Gawen grew.
He recalled how he had scorned the boy before even eting him, and how Tyrion's praise of Gawen had only hardened his bias.
Now, he rembered his brother's words—and sha pricked him.
For in truth, Jai realized, Gawen Crabb understood him better than most.
He truly understands .
.
.
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