A Vow Without Honor

The Lions

Jaime

A good many things had happened over the past couple years that Jaime would have never thought possible, not least of which was being married to the daughter of Ned Stark. And yet, despite all these strange incidences seemingly following him everywhere, he still managed to be surprised by events. Not by the violent ones, no, those would never surprise him again, but instead, the little things, the subtle, almost normal events that he'd never taken part in before everything fell apart.

Such as right now. Here he was, seated in the gardens of King's Landing, enjoying a late lunch with Myra, Tyrion, Myrcella, and Tommen. Mostly fruits and cheeses, a light meal, chased down with a good bit of wine, and occasional sips for Myrcella when he wasn't looking. A breeze was coming in off the bay, cool and refreshing, blowing gently across the area, although once it had sent the napkins flying and they'd all had a good laugh as Tommen went to chase them down.

It was when Jaime thought about how Cersei would have yelled at the poor boy over the innocent act, chastising his unprincelike behavior, that it occurred to him how strange the whole situation was. He wasn't unfamiliar with small, family gatherings, but he was certainly unfamiliar with enjoying them. He laughed at Tyrion's jokes and Myrcella's stories and smiled at Tommen's attempts to decipher them; he engaged them all in conversation, and it came naturally, not the forced dialogue of a man put on the spot.

He'd even forgotten about his hand.

"I'm going to beat Prince Doran one day," Myrcella said, finishing off a riveting tale about the wonders of Cyvasse. It was not a game meant for him, but he'd seen Myra listening with great interest and that certainly did not bode well for his future. "He says I've come close, within five moves."

Jaime shared an unconvinced look with Tyrion. Myrcella noticed.

"I'm good!" she shouted, offended by the lack of faith from her uncles.

"No one is saying you're not," Jaime assured her.

"But we've met Prince Doran," Tyrion continued, playing with the goblet in his hands. "And when I say you probably haven't come close to beating him, I'm doing so for your benefit. He's playing the game even when it's over."

Myrcella opened her mouth to argue back, but she paused. Jaime could see everything clicking into place and chuckled as she sat back in her seat, defeated. She grabbed her third lemon cake of the afternoon to ease her suffering.

Meanwhile, Myra was having an animated chat with Tommen about his kittens. A small, black ball of fur was currently curled up in her lap, having endured a better part of the meal hidden in Tommen's tunic. It was only when he chased after the napkins and began to cry out about something clawing him, that the poor creature emerged. The newest addition to his rapidly growing collection, the boy did not like to leave the kitten alone for long.

Jaime watched her a moment, comfortably seated between Tyrion and Tommen, as she listened to the boy speak with such fervor. Tommen was a naturally happy boy, but he hadn't seen him quite so active as he was now. Cersei was never so attentive to him, and often dismissed anything he cared for, but Myra was enthralled. Of course, she was. Anything that made someone happy made her happy, whether or not she truly cared for the subject matter was irrelevant.

She deserved to be a mother.

He took a breath and looked back to Myrcella. "Tell me, why isn't your mother here?"

"Why should she be?" Myrcella asked casually, finishing off her lemon cake. "She wasn't invited."

Tyrion watched his niece carefully. "You've hardly seen her since returning to King's Landing. I thought you would have loved an opportunity to enjoy a meal together."