Little Lion Man

Goodbyes

His stomached seemed to do flips within his body as they approached the small village just a short distance from Casterly Rock. They'd travelled from King's Landing, and he had been nervous the whole trip, but now especially he regretted eating the breakfast he was served this morning, and feared it would win in its fight to come back up.

They were so close to one of the farms, where all the orphans of Casterly Rock and surrounding areas were sent.  The old farmer and his wife would feed, clothe, and shelter children in exchange for work on their farm.

His father rode just beside him, stern faced and tight lipped. His father wasn't particularly speaking to him. Not since the raven arrived, informing them of the boy.

The letter informed them of a tan skinned, light haired boy with green eyes, who had been brought to their farm twelve years prior. A very young woman had birthed the baby boy, and had claimed him to be the bastard of Lord Jaime Lannister. This had been the only thing that had saved Jaime's position on the King's Guard, as it was unsure when the boy had truly been born, and therefor could not be proven to have been after he became a knight of the King's Guard. The letter went on to say that the farmer in his old age nor his wife could handle the unruly and wild natured boy any longer.

He could see the farm now, and the party turned off the road, and on to an even smaller dirt path, leading them up to the old farm house. He stared back at the young girls looking at him and whispering, as they sat in the back of a stationary wagon. Two little boys dropped their wooden knights in the dirt and stared up in awe at Jaime, his Lord father, and their party. And as they rode up to the farm house, Jaime saw all the children, of many ages, playing about or working. Boys had formed a group and were pointing and looking at the men, craning their necks to see around each other.

Jaime squinted his eyes and looked at each boy's face. He wondered which was his son. A few less than half had blonde hair, so that was no use to him and he was too far away to see their eye color. He felt himself getting even more anxious. And just in time for the old farmer to exit a barn.

His father climbed down from his horse, and Jaime followed. Greeting the kindly old man. Jaime didn't pay attention much to the conversation. He eyed the children gathering all around them, trying to get a look at the Knight and Lord. The boy's and older girls were particularly thrilled. The girls giggled at Jaime and the boy's eyed him admiringly.

"We just could'n handle 'im no more", the man said, "Too much trouble, that boy", Jaime heard, and he suddenly paid attention to what the old farmer was saying.

"What kind of trouble?", Jaime asked.

"Oh all sorts!", the man responded, "Stealin', fightin' the older lads, put one of my best stable boys up in bed for over a month! That was the last straw! No respect, that one! Won't listen to nobody!", the man said, but when Lord Tywin snapped a glare to Jaime that the farmer clearly noticed he added "A father be what he needs, a strong man to set him straight. I've gotten too old myself".

Jaime had acknowledged the boy from the second the letter was read to him. The time line made sense, and he wasn't going to deny the boy until he saw him for himself. Once they met him, if it turned out he wasn't his, even better. But despite how wild he may be, if he belonged to Jaime, it was only right Jaime do what he should do.

Lord Tywin was already trying to find someone to foster the boy on the account of Jaime being a knight of the King's Guard and unable to teach his own boy how to be a man. It was a usual practice for men too busy serving their King to foster their boys out for a few years. Lord Rickard fostered Ned Stark to Jon Arryn. So it was possible all Jaime would be doing is acknowledging the boy and not actually raising him and probably not seeing him until he's a man. But he would be acknowledging him.

"Which one is him?", Jaime suddenly asked, interrupting the old man as he talked to Tywin.

"Oh", the old man replied, "Oh yes, well, let's see here. Patrick, Sid, Eugene, Preston, oh where is he? Luther, Ax, Gorgon.. Gorgon where is Jameson?", he asked and the boy simply shrugged.

"Jameson! Has anyone seen Jameson?", the man yelled, "I swear if he's run off again!", the old man swore bitterly.

" Run off again?", Lord Tywin asked.

The old man pretended not to hear him, saying "Let's go look in the house, yes, maybe he's still packing his things".

Once in the house they were greeted by the farmer's wife and one of his daughters. A pretty young woman with beautiful auburn hair and freckles. Jaime smiled back at her, as she greeted them. He stuck his hand out, and noticed her blushing as he kissed the back of her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ser Jaime", she said.

"The pleasure is all mine", he replied.

Again, his father looked at him even more disapprovingly than usual.

"Please tell me you've seen Jameson, Stella", the old farmer said to his daughter.

Her smile faded.

"He's in his bunk", she said quietly.

"Ah yes, good", the farmer said.

"Wait here, father", Jaime said quickly, when the old farmer began to make his way slowly down a narrow hallway.

"My daughter will get you some tea", the farmer called out to Lord Tywin.

Jaime quickly followed after the old man.

He suddenly realized he was a few moments away from actually meeting the boy. It had been a fortnight since he had received the raven, and discovered his possible bastard. And now, as they approached the closed door, once more he worried his breakfast would force it's way up, and he anxiously clenched his fists.

The farmer knocked on the door twice, and after no answer, he opened it and peeked his head in.

"There you are, Jameson! Ser Jaime is here to collect you. Why aren't your bags packed?", the man suddenly asked, noticing the boy had not packed any of his things. He opened the door all the way, and stepped in. Jaime could see the boy's body but not his face. He lay on his bed, reading a book.

"I'm not going", the boy replied simply.

"Jameson", the old man whispered, "Ser Jaime is in the hall and waiting for you".

"Tell Ser Jaime to go away then. I'm not going", Jameson said, emphasizing each of the three words in the last sentence.

"It's not up for debate", the old man said sternly, "He's come a long way, and he's expecting you be ready to go".

"I really don't care what he wants or expects or how far he's travelled. He can turn right around and go back. I'm not going. I'm not going anywhere. So you might as well tell Ser Jaime to fuck off or I will myself. Either way is fine".

"That's enough Jameson! I've had enough of your disrespect! That's exactly why you have to go! Get up right this instant and pack your bags! Ser Jaime is waiting".

"Fuck Ser Jaime! I'm not going anywhere and you can't make me! And neither can the Kingslayer! Let him try! Let anyone try!", the boy yelled, sitting up suddenly and throwing his book to the side. Jaime could now see his face.

It was Cersei, but young and masculine. He could instantly see it. If Cersei had been a boy, he thought to himself, she would look like this. And he could do nothing but stare. Stare, as he also picked out the features of the woman he'd met so many years ago. The boy's mother. His hair was much darker than his, when he was that age, but it was still blonde. And his skin was tanner, like hers. But he looked so much like a young, masculine Cersei. Like.. Like himself.

He hadn't even heard the farmer and Jameson arguing back and forth for a minute or so, as he stared at the boy who had yet to look over at the doorway and notice him still out in the hallway.

"That's it! That's enough! If Ser Jaime must get his men to drag you out I don't care!", the old man roared, and Jaime jumped as the old man suddenly stormed out of the room, bringing the door with him behind him. Jaime looked away from the huffing old man, and back at the boy, just as the door was closing.

And just before it closed, for just a second, he made direct eye contact with the boy. Jameson. His son.