Read my new story :
American Fast & Furious NSFW
America's #1 Scumbag NSFW
The next morning, at the riverside camp along the Blackwater Rush.
Jaime Lannister arrived to see Arthur with the full bearing of a high lord, flanked by four guards in crimson cloaks.
The "Kingslayer" was tall and striking, just like his sister, with flowing golden hair, flashing emerald eyes, and a smile as sharp as a knife.
Jaime wore a tunic of crimson silk, high black boots, and a long black satin cloak.
Embroidered in gold thread across his chest was the roaring lion of House Lannister.
As the King's brother-in-law and the eldest son of the Lord of Casterly Rock, Jaime was far more arrogant—and treated with far more leniency—than any ordinary White Sword.
Rules simply didn't apply to a man of his standing.
Arthur hadn't expected the Kingslayer to show up before Ser Barristan's gift even arrived.
But he understood Jaime's mindset; unhappy at Robert's side, he likely found it easy to lose himself in memories of the past.
Robert was a coarse man who frequently made jokes at the Kingslayer's expense, and Jaime was somewhat thin-skinned about it.
"Good day, Ser Jaime," Arthur said politely.
"Good day, White Sword," Ser Lucas said, his tone lukewarm.
"Lad. I knew of you the moment you arrived. Your great-uncle Oswell hoped you would become a great knight. Besides, you have a kinsman of the Sword of the Morning by your side." Jaime glanced at Ser Lucas.
"I am honored by your visit. You were my great-uncle's sworn brother of the White Cloak, just like the Sword of the Morning and Ser Barristan," Arthur replied calmly.
This was common knowledge, though many believed the Kingslayer was unworthy of wearing the white cloak.
Behind Arthur, Ser Lucas Dayne, Lucas Roote, and Wylis Wode looked a bit uncomfortable.
After all, the Lannisters and the Kingslayer carried a notorious reputation.
Men called him the "Lion of Lannister" to his face, but whispered "Kingslayer" behind his back.
"It seems your companions are a bit fearful. Don't worry, I'll be brief," Jaime laughed heartily.
Jaime waved his hand, and his crimson-cloaked retainers brought forward a long cedar chest.
After opening it, the squires retreated to a respectful distance.
Inside lay a longbow.
Its color was extraordinary—a Goldenheart bow, second only to dragonbone in prestige.
Typical Kingslayer, Arthur thought. Filthy rich.
Considering he would one day gift a Valyrian steel sword to Brienne, this was probably just pocket change to him.
"Everyone, give us some space," Arthur ordered his own squires.
He wanted to create a quiet zone. Jaime was a man of immense pride, and only a man like that could be so internally conflicted.
"When I swore my vows at Harrenhal to become a Kingsguard, Ser Oswell Whent helped me to my feet, and the Lord Commander, Gerold Hightower—the White Bull—fastened the snowy white cloak about my shoulders. All six White Swords were there to welcome me. After the campaign against the Kingswood Brotherhood, the Sword of the Morning knighted me. When he tapped my shoulder with Dawn, the blade cut through my tunic and drew blood. That feels like a lifetime ago."
Seeing they were alone, the Kingslayer began to reminisce.
Arthur felt the man was obsessed.
His happiest days weren't now, but back when he first donned the white cloak.
The problem is, being a White Knight didn't stop you from sleeping with the Queen, Arthur thought. He can't let go of the glory of the Kingsguard, but he can't let go of the woman either.
But there was no point saying that aloud. The Kingslayer was a mess of contradictions right now.
"Well, the past is smoke. Seeing you—a boy with a bright future—reminded me of those days," Jaime said with a touch of melancholy. "I was instructed by six brothers: Barristan the Bold, the White Bull, the Sword of the Morning, Prince Lewyn, Oswell, and Jon Darry. They were all good men."
"Good men, but dead men," Arthur replied.
Jaime felt a tightness in his chest.
True. This boy was just a young squire, just as he had been.
"Arthur, don't fail your great-uncle's expectations. Take the gift," the Kingslayer said, pointing to the bow.
"That is too valuable," Arthur said quickly.
Goldenheart bows had immense range, second only to dragonbone.
They were exorbitantly expensive, as the wood was restricted from export by the Summer Islanders.
"There is no reason for me to take it back. Regardless of what the future holds, this is my gift to you."
Having said his piece, the Kingslayer departed with his retinue, leaving behind the priceless bow.
Along the banks of the Blackwater, the lion banners snapped in the wind as the knights mounted up.
The Kingslayer rode off with his lion-helmed guards, leaving everyone else standing there in confusion.
Arthur watched the Kingslayer recede. None of Tywin's children were truly like their father.
Or rather, they were like fragmented pieces, each inheriting only a single aspect.
Cersei got the cruelty and the arrogance. Jaime got the arrogance and the steel.
Tyrion actually learned the most, yet he was the least valued.
Arthur let out a sigh of relief. At least Jaime hadn't gone full meltdown.
If he had, he might have started whining to Arthur about how unfairly Robert treated him.
But Jaime was still relatively stable right now; he didn't need to pour his heart out like he eventually would to Brienne when he hit rock bottom.
In terms of sheer defiance, however, Jaime was exactly like Tywin.
Even with Robert as King, they showed him little true respect.
Arthur was just a small squire; Jaime had no reason to spill his darkest secrets to him.
"Is that... a Goldenheart bow?" Lucas Roote stepped forward, asking in amazement.
"It is. The real deal," Arthur nodded.
Lucas and Wylis examined the gift with awe.
Rare wood from the Summer Isles.
Even if it wasn't dragonbone, the price was astronomical.
The Summer Islanders guarded their trees jealously, and very little was smuggled out.
For a normal man, such a gift would be impossible.
But for the Lannisters, the wealthiest family in the Seven Kingdoms, it was trivial.
Jaime even used tournament lances made of Goldenheart; getting a bow wasn't hard for him.
"Typical Lannister. The Golden Family. Their gifts are on another level, and it seems he still honors the bonds of the Kingsguard," Ser Lucas Dayne noted with a sigh.
Equipping a knight was expensive.
Enamelled armor and Goldenheart bows cost a fortune.
"He is still a White Sword," Arthur replied.
"Perhaps it's just by comparison. The current lot of White Swords..." Ser Lucas snorted in disdain.
Compared to the golden age, the current Kingsguard was indeed lackluster. Only Barristan the Bold and the Kingslayer had any real fame.
"Ser Jaime is a strange man. He gives Arthur such a priceless weapon upon meeting, then leaves immediately. Very dashing," Wylis remarked quietly.
"I think his character isn't so bad," Roote whispered.
Aside from killing the Mad King, Jaime seemed like a decent person.
There weren't many people as petty and vindictive as Tywin, after all.
Tywin's image was one of ruthless, overwhelming vengeance.
"Speaking of character, Jaime is definitely different from Tywin. That is intentional; Tywin didn't want his heir to be exactly like him," Ser Lucas said lightly.
A cold, authoritarian father often hopes to raise a son with chivalrous grace.
It wasn't that strange; Tywin and Roose Bolton were the same in that regard.
Rule by fear cannot last forever; thunder must be followed by rain.
Tywin had already walked the bloody, terrifying path.
He wanted to mold his son into a beloved knight-lord to repair the family's image.
Unfortunately, things didn't go according to plan.