JAIME | CATELYN
The sound of heavy and steady breathing filled the air in the dusty corner of the Red Keep's training yard.
Jaime Lannister lowered his training sword, its tip touching the sandy ground. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose, falling onto the dry earth. He sighed a long sigh, trying to calm his racing heartbeat after a full hour of intensive training session. The muscles in his arms felt hot, a familiar and satisfying burning sensation after hard work.
Opposite him, Jon Connington was also wiping sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his training tunic. His signature red hair looked limp and dark from wetness, sticking to his neck and temples. The man stood tall despite being tired, his posture always radiating rigid discipline.
"You are getting faster, Jaime," commented Jon, his voice slightly breathless but remaining serious. He did not give praise cheaply, so Jaime knew it was sincere. "Your defense was hard to penetrate today."
"And your attacks are as heavy as a blacksmith's hammer, Jon," replied Jaime, grinning while rotating his stiff shoulders. "I think I will be bruised tomorrow morning."
Jon only snorted, the corner of his lips lifting slightly, a thin smile rarely seen. Jon Connington was a good man, in his stiff and dutiful way. He was a capable soldier, a dedicated lord, and a loyal friend.
However, sometimes Jaime felt something strange.
Something invisible yet tickling the nape of his neck every time they were near Rhaegar together.
He didn't know, it felt like Jon was staring into him deeper than usual. Not the assessing gaze of a sparring opponent, but a gaze seeking to find out if Jaime was worthy of standing by the Prince's side. There was a burning intensity in Jon's eyes when he looked at Rhaegar, adoration, absolute loyalty, and perhaps something deeper.
Jaime wasn't sure what was wrong, or if he was just imagining things because he thought too much about future plots. So, he just let it pass for now. He wouldn't dig further. His mind was already filled with various kinds of things, he didn't have to bother adding another to his list, right?
"Thank you for training with me, Jon," said Jaime sincerely, while walking to take a coarse towel handed by a servant.
That name, Jon, was still confusing every time he said it.
In his head, the list of "Jons" kept growing. There was Jon Arryn of the Vale, there was Jon Connington standing before him. And of course, he also had a personal guard named Jon, Jon the guard who was currently in Lannisport or Casterly Rock overseeing his projects.
How could I know so many people named Jon? thought Jaime with amusement. Did parents in Westeros run out of name ideas? The name was truly popular.
"No matter," Jon shrugged, brushing dust from his trousers. "I also have nothing else to do this morning. Arthur is on duty accompanying King Rhaegar. And the others are busy for the coronation day, everyone is busy with something."
They walked slowly leaving the training area, heading to a stone bench on the edge of the field to rest for a moment before returning to the main castle.
"What do you think about Rhaegar?" asked Jon suddenly, his voice lowering. He did not look at Jaime, but stared at Maegor's Holdfast tower in the distance.
Jaime gulped water from the waterskin he brought. "He... endures. He does his duty."
"He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders," corrected Jon, his tone full of deep empathy. "Because of King Aerys's death, now he has to do this sooner than he should have."
Jon turned to Jaime, his eyes sharp. "He needs friends, Jaime. True friends. Not sycophants who want titles or lands. He needs people he can trust to watch his back while he looks forward, does he not?"
"I know," said Jaime softly. "Arthur does his part. You do your part."
"And you?" urged Jon. "I saw you with him in the garden yesterday. He laughed. I have not heard him laugh like that since... a very long time."
There was a possessive note in Jon's voice, but also reluctant gratitude.
"I just try to make him forget the crown for a moment," answered Jaime diplomatically. "Music, books, silly stories. Human things."
Jon nodded stiffly. "Good. Keep doing that. I... I can protect him with a sword. I can lead his armies if he commands me. But I am not good at making people laugh. I am too serious, they say."
Jaime stared at Jon with a little admiration for that friendship.
Before him was a sincere man with pure loyalty. He was willing to do anything for the happiness and safety of that prince without asking for anything in return other than the chance to serve.
While he was here?
Jaime felt a bitter taste on his tongue. He was here because his father 'ordered' it.
"Get inside the king's circle," said Tywin. "Ensure he is on the right path. Be his rational voice."
It was manipulation. It was a political maneuver to ensure House Lannister kept holding control over the Iron Throne through soft influence.
It wasn't that Jaime would truly manipulate Rhaegar for evil purposes. No, Steven had his own morals. He liked Rhaegar. He wanted Rhaegar to succeed because that meant a safer world. He only nodded agreeing to Tywin's orders merely to calm the old man's nerves.
But still, it made him feel a little guilty.
He felt like a fraud standing beside a saint. Jon gave his heart; Jaime gave his strategy.
"You do not need to worry too much, Jon, Rhaegar is not a weak man."
"Good," said Jon. He stood up, taking his sword. "I must go. I promised Rhaegar to check the city watch preparations."
They parted at the corridor junction. Jon turned towards the barracks, his steps steady and purposeful. Jaime watched him for a moment, then turned towards the direction of his room.
While walking down the cold hallway, Jaime's mind shifted to another 'interrogation'.
Father.
Tywin Lannister was not only busy taking care of the kingdom. Lately, he was also busy taking care of his son. Or more precisely, the contents of his son's brain.
Since a few days ago, Tywin often called him to his solar at night. Not to lecture him about duties as an heir, although that was still there, but to ask.
Tywin interrogated him about whatever he could make. About the "strange" ideas Jaime had.
"What else are you hiding in that head of yours?" asked Tywin the night before, his eyes glinting under the candlelight. "You made paper. You made a needle point north. What else?"
Jaime certainly did not refuse to answer. That was good, actually.
All this time, at Casterly Rock, he had to move secretly or through intermediaries like Uncle Gerion or Kevan to realize his ideas. He had to make his own experiments, prove his concepts worked, only then would Tywin glance at him.
Now? Tywin actively sought him out. Tywin gave resources.
Jaime had started talking about agriculture. Crop rotation. Planting turnips and clover to restore soil nutrients, instead of leaving fields fallow.
He also drew rough sketches of simple farming tools, a horse-drawn seed drill. Far more efficient than sowing by hand.
Tywin listened with frightening intensity. He didn't ask about the scientific principles; he asked about the results.
"How much harvest increase can we expect?" asked Tywin.
"Perhaps double in a few years, if done correctly," answered Jaime.
Tywin's eyes shone then. Gold was power, but food was life. If the Westerlands could produce as much food as the Reach, they would be unstoppable.
Jaime felt like he was feeding a dragon. He was giving tools of revolution to Tywin Lannister. He knew it was dangerous. But on the other hand, it was the only way to advance this world quickly. And Jaime needed this world to advance. He needed a healthy and large population, and to make people better.
He arrived in front of his room door. His personal servant, a young man named Peck, was already waiting.
"Prepare hot water, Peck," ordered Jaime while taking off his sword belt. "I smell like an old horse."
"Yes, My Lord. Immediately," answered Peck, rushing in.
Jaime entered his room, stretching his stiff neck. He needed a bath. He had to clean off the sweat and training dust, as well as the remnants of guilt sticking to his skin.
This afternoon, he had another agenda. An agenda far easier than sparring with Jon Connington or meeting with Tywin.
He would meet his betrothed.
Catelyn Tully.
...
Golden afternoon light flooded the long gallery overlooking the south garden of the Red Keep. Catelyn Tully stood near a high arched window, her hands resting lightly on the stone sill warm from sun exposure all day. She wore a dress of river blue silk with silver trout embroidery on the collar, but the cut was not as usual, with wider sleeves and a slimmer waist, following the capital fashion she observed at the welcoming feast yesterday. She wanted to look like part of this world, not just a girl from the riverbank.
Beside her stood Jaime Lannister.
The young man had just bathed; his golden hair was still slightly damp at the ends, and he smelled of lavender soap and clean leather, not the sword training sweat that usually clung to the men in Riverrun after noon. He wore a dark red tunic that fit his body, simple yet elegant, without too much flashy jewelry. A small gold lion pin was pinned on his chest, sparkling when hit by light.
Catelyn stole a glance at him. Jaime was handsome, no one could deny that. His green eyes were bright and sharp, his nose high, and there was an aura of relaxed confidence around him. Yet what made Catelyn feel relieved was not his good looks, but his attitude. He didn't look bored. He didn't look like he wanted to be elsewhere.
"You like being here?"
Jaime's question broke the comfortable silence between them. His voice was soft, lacking the haughty tone Catelyn often heard from other lords who felt themselves better than everyone. Jaime looked at her, not with a hungry or assessing gaze, but with sincere curiosity.
Catelyn turned fully, looking into the young man's green eyes. She smiled, feeling her cheeks warm slightly.
"Yes," answered Catelyn honestly, nodding slowly. She looked back at the city view down there, the roofs of houses huddled together, smoke billowing from chimneys, and ships sailing in the bay. "Of course. This is King's Landing. Since I was little, Father always told stories about the size of this city, about dragons that once flew above it. And seeing it directly... extraordinary."
She sighed softly, as if releasing a burden.
"It is a breath of fresh air, Jaime," she continued, her voice becoming more enthusiastic. "In Riverrun, days go slow. We know everyone, and everyone knows us. The routine is always the same. Morning in the sept, noon sewing, evening dinner. Here? Every day there is a new face. I can also meet many other nobles, especially those with similar interests."
Her blue eyes sparkled as she told her experience.
"Just this morning, I drank tea with Lady Janna Tyrell and several other ladies from the Vale in the garden," related Catelyn. "We talked about many things. About dancing techniques, which look very complicated and fast, about the harp music played by His Grace, and of course..." Catelyn laughed a little, covering her mouth politely, "About what we will do when we grow up. Being a Lady of a great castle is not a light task, you know? We exchanged herbal medicine recipes for fever and how to handle lazy servants."
Jaime chuckled, leaning relaxed on the stone wall, crossing his arms on his chest. "I am sure you will be a great Lady, Cat. Lazy servants won't dare lift their eyes before you. You have that 'Tully' stare, a stare that can make people feel guilty even if they did nothing."
That nickname 'Cat' sounded familiar, yet not presumptuous. Catelyn liked it. It felt warm.
"I hope so," said Catelyn. "I study hard."
"No need to worry," commented Jaime. He pointed towards a small crowd of nobles strolling in the garden below the gallery. "And it is indeed very crowded. Wherever you go, you will find someone. Sometimes it is fun, sometimes exhausting. You are never truly alone here. Even the walls have ears."
"That is why I am glad we can talk here," said Catelyn, lowering her voice slightly. "In a quiet corner. Far from the ears of the walls."
They laughed together. The laughter was light, breaking the remnants of her awkwardness.
Compared to the last time they met, where everything felt stiff, formal, and full of pressure, now they had become closer. Catelyn felt comfortable near him.
Jaime was stable. He was intelligent. Also very attentive. He listened. He didn't cut Catelyn's conversation to brag about his horses or swords. He asked about Catelyn's opinion, about what books she read, about how she liked the climate here.
"You know," said Jaime suddenly, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Just now I saw Lord Cressey trying to mount his horse. It took three squires to lift him. I worry his horse will file a petition to the King on charges of animal cruelty."
Catelyn covered her mouth to hold back impolite laughter, her eyes widening. "Jaime! That is very mean."
"It is a fact, Cat. Facts are not mean, only honest," Jaime grinned. "And you should have seen the hat Lady Olenna wore. I swear I saw a bird's nest in it. Maybe she is incubating a secret dragon egg."
"Stop it," Catelyn hit Jaime's arm lightly with her fan, but she laughed. "Lady Olenna is very sharp. She can hear you, even if she is not here."
"Let her hear. Maybe she will give me the egg."
Jaime had a dry and slightly cynical sense of humor, often making jokes about the excessive grandeur of other nobles. It made Catelyn feel they had a shared secret, a private joke amidst a serious world.
Then, Jaime's tone changed a little softer.
"How is Edmure?" asked Jaime suddenly, smiling, a smile that reached his eyes. "That spirited brother of yours. He tried to challenge me to climb a tree in the Riverrun yard, remember? He said he was the best squirrel in the Trident. I wonder if he has managed to climb to that highest branch without falling."
Catelyn's heart warmed. Most lords only cared about the heir or the daughter they would marry. The fact that Jaime remembered her little brother's silly game, even the details of that silly challenge, showed his true character.
"He is well," answered Catelyn gently. "He is still at Riverrun with Uncle Brynden. Father said he had to learn about House names first before meeting them, and Edmure was very angry. He sulked for three days, refusing to eat his favorite cake. He wanted to see the knights in white armor. He wanted to see you, actually."
"Ah, what a pity," said Jaime sympathetically. "He lost the chance to see the funny masks at the feast."
"He sends his regards," added Catelyn. "He asked when you will come again to see his 'secret fortress' by the riverbank."
"Next time, if I go to Riverrun, I will come," promised Jaime. "And I will bring him a wooden toy knight from Lannisport. One painted with gold and red colors."
"He will like it," said Catelyn. "He likes anything related to adventure. He... he might be a little lonely because Lysa and I left."
"And Lysa?" asked Jaime politely. "She is here, right? I saw her at the feast, but she looked... scared."
Catelyn sighed softly. "Lysa... she is shy. This crowd makes her anxious. She is afraid of speaking wrong or stepping wrong. Father is trying to find her a match too, and that makes her even more nervous. She is afraid of being married to a fierce old lord."
"Tell her not to worry," said Jaime. "If your Father tries to marry her to Walder Frey, I will lend my sword to her to run away."
Catelyn laughed again. "Walder Frey? By the Seven, don't joke about that. That is a nightmare."
"I am serious. No one deserves that fate," said Jaime, smiling. "And you? You are not afraid?"
"Afraid of what?"
"Marrying me," said Jaime straightforwardly. "Moving to Casterly Rock. Leaving the river for the rock and the western sea. People say Lannisters are arrogant, cold, and... well, you know my Father's reputation."
Catelyn fell silent for a moment. She looked at the face of the young man before her.
"Before... maybe I was afraid," she admitted honestly. "When Father first told me. Casterly Rock sounded very far. And Lord Tywin... he is intimidating. But..."
She looked into Jaime's green eyes.
"Not anymore. Not after knowing you. You are not like your family's reputation, Jaime. You are... warm. You make me laugh."
Jaime looked a little surprised by that honesty, then his ears turned slightly red. "Don't tell anyone. I have an 'arrogant brat' reputation to maintain."
"Your secret is safe with me," Catelyn smiled gently.
They chatted for a long time, until they didn't feel the time, then looked out the window again. The sun began to descend, touching the horizon line, turning the sky into a canvas painted with purple, red, and gold colors. The afternoon wind blew harder, bringing a refreshing cold air.
"The sunset here is different from Riverrun," murmured Catelyn. "There, the sun sinks behind forests and hills. Here, it sinks into the city."
"At Casterly Rock, it sinks into the sea," said Jaime. "One day, you will see it. The color is like liquid gold at twilight. That is why we are called the 'West'. We have the last sun."
"Sounds beautiful."
"Indeed."
They stood in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, enjoying each other's presence without needing to fill every second with words. It was a sign of rare compatibility.
Then Jaime straightened his body from leaning on the wall. He smoothed his tunic. There was a clear note of regret in his voice when he spoke.
"I must go," said Jaime. He looked at Catelyn with an apologetic gaze. "My father... he has other 'plans' for me tonight. He does not like waiting."
"Of course," said Catelyn, trying to hide her disappointment. She enjoyed this time. "Lord Tywin must be busy. You must not keep him waiting."
"I would prefer to stay here," said Jaime, and Catelyn knew he meant it. "Listening to you tell stories about Riverrun is far more interesting than listening to Father talk about taxes."
"Taxes are important," teased Catelyn.
"Maybe. But father's gaze is sharp." Then he bowed.
"Thank you for the time, Lady Catelyn," he said formally, but his eyes blinked mischievously. "See you again, oh and you know the coronation feast? I will make sure to save you if other Lords try to ask you to dance and step on your feet."
"I will hold you to your promise," Catelyn smiled.
"Good night, Cat."
"Good night, Jaime."
Jaime turned and walked away down the gallery, his steps steady and confident. Catelyn watched him until he disappeared around the corridor corner.
She stood there alone for a moment, holding her hands. The sea breeze hit her face, but she didn't feel cold.
She thought about the future. Casterly Rock. Lannisport. Being Jaime Lannister's wife.
She sighed.
...
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