A Game of Lies

A Glorious Gift

Jaime made his way to his son's bedchamber, wringing his hands together nervously as he did so.

"Father?", Lewyn asked, when Jaime entered, "please tell me what's happening. What's going on?", the boy asked.

How could Jaime take this boy into battle? Sure, there were plenty of lads far younger than him, who fought in battles. And of course, there were also squires his age, many of them. But this was his son.

"We need to speak, you and I", Jaime said, motioning for his son to sit.

Lewyn took a seat on the end of his bed, his father sat next to him.

"You're nearly a man. We will be setting out, to form camps on the border of the Riverlands. You will be going too. You will be my squire", the man said delicately.

He didn't expect the smile to form on his son's lips.

"I'm going to battle? With you?", Lewyn asked.

"You are going to the camps with me. Hopefully there will be no battle. Your grandfather just plans to take up arms, to scare the Tully girl into releasing uncle Tyrion", Jaime said.

Lewyn's smile faded then.

"Will I be fighting? If there is a battle?", the boy asked.

"If someone comes at you with a weapon, you'll fight him", Jaime responded.

"I've never actually fought though, father. Not really", the boy said, worried.

Jaime hesitated a moment, and then stood up.

"Come", he said, and his son followed him all the way to his own bedchamber, just down the hall.

"I was going to save this for your Nameday", his father said, "but what better time than now?"

Lewyn stood, watching, as his father crossed the room, moving to a trunk.

His father opened the trunk, and pulled something from it, staring down at it for a moment before he turned to his son, the sword laying across both his hands, presenting it to his boy.

Lewyn's jaw dropped, and his eyes widened as he looked up at his father, and back down to the beautiful sword before him. It must have cost a small fortune to have forged. In truth, Jaime could have bought his son a small fleet of ships with the gold he put into this sword. His son could show up to Winterfell with an army of his own. Not just paying for it, but the actual hilt itself, was made mostly from pure gold.

It was the most stunning, handsome sword Lewyn had ever seen. A lion's head molded to the handle, two red rubies encrusted for the lion's eye's, and all down the swords hilt, was a mixture of a pure gold, and red rubies.

"I had it forged just for you", his father said, laying the sword in his son's hands.

"Valyrian steel", his father said, "but don't go around bragging about it if you'd like to keep the sword long. A strong sword, but light enough for one hand, and complimentary to more exotic styles of combat. Not too long, but long enough", Jaime said, and his son looked up at him quickly.

"But.. Where did you get the Valyrian steel from? Who forged it?", he asked, confused. Valyrian steel wasn't exactly something easy to come by.

"I had a sword in my possession, one given to me back when I served King Aerys", his father said, "don't make a big deal of it being Valyrian steel", his father warned again.

"It's", he said, at a loss for words, "it's beautiful!".

"I'm glad you like it", Jaime said, smiling as his son admired the ripples throughout the blade.