Jaime IV

"You did WHAT?"

It hurt to see his sister's beautiful face contorted in rage. Her nightgown hung loose on a body that hadn't been eating properly for some time, and her wild hair made her look like a lioness for true.

"I had to crown someone, Cersei," Jaime defended himself. He thought it the politic choice. Joffrey looked pleased, and after that little bit of theater with the squire's melee, the commons ate it up with relish. Sansa Stark, the wild wolf-girl from the north, the lady love of their golden prince, was getting to be terribly popular. Why couldn't Cersei be happy for him? Jaime hadn't won a tourney in a few years, and Father was there to see!

"Is there nothing that bitch isn't trying to take from me?" the queen demanded, pacing up and down the Myrish carpets of her bedchamber. "She has my son, that's plain. There is no hope there. Once they're wedded and bedded and she starts whelping pups, that will be the end of me. Her Father is the Hand, who has Robert's ear, and now my beloved brother crowns her Queen of Love and Beauty! Am I not the queen? Has the world forgotten?"

"You are the queen," he assured her. "Yesterday was a fine first step. If you show your face more at court..."

"If Joff won't heed me, then none will!" she snapped. "You heard Father. Even he approves of the damned wolves who stalk these halls. The Red Keep is full of Starks, and is like to stay that way."

Cersei flung herself onto her bed and turned her back to him. Jaime dared to hope...but no. She hadn't lain with him in years. Her health hadn't completely returned, either. Mayhaps if she grew stronger.

You're a fool, Jaime Lannister, he told himself. He'd joined the Kingsguard to be close to her, and then Father resigned his position as Hand and returned to Casterly Rock, leaving him stuck here with Mad Aerys. They had a few good years, but those times were in the past, it seemed. At least he still had his sword arm.

When nothing he said could coax another word out of his sister, he left her. The Kingsguard was shorthanded and spread thin since the losses of their brothers Meryn Trant, Boros Blount, and Preston Greenfield in the wildling war. Those three were no great loss as fighters, but replacing them had proved more difficult than anticipated. Today was to be one of the rare days when he didn't have a watch rotation, and Jaime had no notion of what to do. So soon after the tourney, few would want to torment their bruised and tender bodies in the yard. His brother Tyrion could prove amusing, but the prince had him busy with another of those plans they'd cooked up together.

His choice was made for him.

A page with a Baratheon badge on his chest bid Jaime arm and report to the royal apartments in haste. That was passing strange, yet as one of the White Swords, he could not refuse.

***

"Uncle Jaime, good morning," Prince Joffrey greeted him. The lad had bandages on his arms, and Sansa Stark hung off him fretfully. "Or good afternoon, rather. It seems the meeting was delayed."

Jaime rested a hand on his sword, taking up a position to guard the prince's back. The Stark girl's wolf was also standing sentinel, ears pointed up and alert. "Meeting?" Jaime asked.

Joff raised his arms, or tried to. Sansa kept clinging to his left. "About this. There was a bit of an incident at the feast, you see."

"Some rogue tried to murder my betrothed!" Sansa spat with as much venom as he'd heard from Cersei earlier. They really seemed more alike than they knew. It made Jaime smile.

"A drunken brawl is not a murder, honey," Joff corrected her. " That fool paid with his life. Oh, and here's Jon."

Jon Snow, the Stark bastard, and his white wolf joined their party. He was wearing armor too. The young man clutched his head. "I think I had too much wine."

"We all did," Joffrey said. "Arya is at her lessons, then?" Jon Snow nodded. "Good, then everyone is accounted for, and we can get going."

"Where are we going, my prince?" Jaime asked courteously.

"The Small Hall. All the council and the Kingsguard will be there. You're guarding me today. Come along, everyone."

So Jaime followed. When they arrived at the small council chambers, Ser Mandon Moore was guarding the door. "The wolves stay outside!" he rumbled.

"The wolves stay with me," Joff countermanded him immediately. The command in his nephew's voice was apparent. Cersei spoke sense when she wailed about Joffrey's willfulness.

There was a bit of a contest of wills, which the prince speedily won, and Ser Mandon stood aside. When they entered, a spirited discussion was already underway.

"They wounded my son!" King Robert thundered, though Joffrey didn't look particularly badly off. He only winced slightly when Sansa squeezed his arm.

"A dreadful incident, to be sure," Varys the spider replied unctuously. Something about that man, well, eunuch, made Jaime's skin crawl.

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"And here's the lad!" Littlefinger exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention to the prince and his party.

"Yes, I'm here." Joffrey didn't shrink at all from being the center of attention. "Let's get this over with."

"You're wounded," Stannis stated the obvious.

"Only slightly, Uncle."

"Ser Mandon was instructed to keep the wolves outside," Ser Barristan, the Lord Commander, stated evenly. It wasn't quite a rebuke, but near enough.

"And I didn't heed him, Lord Commander." Joffrey turned to the king. "Father, this is really ridiculous. A drunken incident at a feast doesn't require a small council meeting."

"It is death to lay violent hands upon a prince of the blood," Stannis pointed out.

"And the Frey died for it, Uncle. Seems to me the matter is resolved."

Lord Stark looked very uncomfortable in the seat to Robert's right. He cleared his throat loudly. "My prince, tell the council, if you would, all that happened."

"As the Hand wishes. I invited Ser Loras Tyrell to sit next to me since he was so melancholic over his loss to Ser Gregor."

Renly's eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak up.

"Anyway," the prince continued, "while the court was feasting by the river, I had my own little area with a few tables set up side by side. I had Sansa on my left and Loras to my right. Jon and Arya were at another table behind us, dining with a few Stark men from the Hand's guard. Ah, and the wolves had their own open area nearby. Some drunken knight, who I later learned was a Frey, was wroth with Ser Loras."

"Why?" Renly demanded. None of the man's good humor was apparent right now.

"You know how Loras is, Uncle. He likes to present a lady with a flower every time he enters the lists. This Frey must've took it ill. There was a dagger in his hand, and he made to stab my companion. We grappled for a short space, then the wolves did for him. There's not much else to say."

Everyone took in Joffrey's explanation silently, then Stark spoke up. "Why weren't you guarded? Where was Jon?"

The bastard could not bear to look his father in the eye, Jaime noticed.

"Jon wasn't on duty, Lord Hand," Joffrey explained. "He was feasting at a nearby table. I didn't think I needed a guard."

"No guard at all?" Ser Barristan questioned.

"The Frey was a gnat," the prince said dismissively. "I could've killed him by accident quicker than he could've killed me on purpose."

Robert barked out a laugh. "Hah! You hear that?"

Lord Stark did not look amused at all. "Your son is far too like you, Your Grace."

"What do you mean, Ned?"

"Bold, and heedless of danger, Robert. The crown prince should've had at least one protector."

"I could've cut that Frey down easily, my lord!" Joffrey stated, and it didn't sound like a boast at all. "Anyway, I was guarded. The wolves were my protectors."

"That's right!" Sansa cried. "If anyone else ever approaches Joff with naked steel, Lady will rip him apart straight away!" The wolf barked in agreement, making Varys jump and scream like a girl. It was so funny, Jaime had to turn away so the small council couldn't see his smile.

"There's still the matter of punishment," Stannis interjected. "You are wounded, nephew. Those cuts on your arms are real. We can't let this go unanswered."

"All the Freys who came to the tourney are in the Black Cells," Renly reported, acting for once in his capacity as Master of Laws.

"Oh, that's overreacting. How could they stop their kinsmen from making a fool of himself? I repeat, the man who did this," Joff held up his arms for all to see," is dead. I say we leave it alone and call justice done."

Robert looked like he wanted to agree, but when he saw the frowns on his counselors, he relented. "They have to be punished, Joff, all of House Frey. The royal family cannot suffer such an insult with no consequences."

Joffrey sighed. He walked about the room in thought. "Fine." Then he paused. "Fine? Fine! We'll make them pay a fine!"

Littlefinger put quill to parchment. "How much?"

The prince waved a hand dismissively. "Let them ship some grain to White Harbor, a goodly amount. Call it a wedding gift to Robb. He's to marry a Manderly girl, right?"

"He is," Lord Stark confirmed with a smile. "Any objections to the prince's plan?"

There were none. "Right, anything else?" Robert asked.

"We must discuss filling the vacancies in the Kingsguard, Your Grace," Ser Barristan informed him. "You and your son must be guarded at all times. As active as the prince is, we need to ensure he's protected wherever he goes."

The debate went on for some time. Eventually, they settled on Ser Balon Swann, Ser Guyard Morrigen, and, at Renly's suggestion, Ser Loras Tyrell.