A Vow Without Honor

The King

Jaime

No one had said a word when he walked out of his chambers later that day, despite sporting bruises on both his cheek and neck. The other members of the Kingsguard knew better than to test his temper. Ser Mandon was staring, as he always did, but this time there was real weight behind his dead gaze. Jaime met his eyes, a silent challenge for him to try anything, but the man simply walked away.

White Sword Tower was unusually cramped that day. Four of the seven members of the Kingsguard were there, himself included. Sers Mandon, Arys, and Preston were all inside, leaving Ser Meryn with Cersei and her younger children and Ser Boros with Joffrey as he practiced with a crossbow on the tourney fields while they remained. Ser Barristan, he was told, had taken off with the king early that morning.

There was a conversation he was glad to not be part of.

Unfortunately, it was Jaime's turn to watch the royal chambers. Since Ser Mandon had watched the king overnight and the other two guarded his family, that left him next in line. Ser Mandon was not about to say anything of his whereabouts last night so for all the others knew, Jaime had gotten a good night's rest after the helmet debacle.

What a night it had been, making him forget about that embarrassment.

With a sigh, Jaime departed the tower, ignoring his meal entirely. There were too many things on his mind making his stomach turn. He wished Tyrion would return already from his damned excursion to the Wall. His little brother was the only one he trusted to help him sort these things out.

And what would he do? After recovering from a fit of laughter himself over his helmet woes, Tyrion would probably make a joke about the Stark girl and how close he was to her. Then a joke about Cersei and one about Robert. Most people would brush off what he said as insults and the inability to take anything seriously, but Jaime knew better. Tyrion's jests were an excellent way of evaluating a situation. It was how his brother kept things from getting too out of hand.

It was when the joking stopped that the concern really began.

No, Jaime thought, perhaps he would not joke about this at all.

He stood in front of Robert's chambers for the better part of an hour, waiting to relieve Ser Barristan when he heard footsteps down the hall. Briefly, Jaime wondered if Robert would recall the previous night and his role in it. He must have remembered some part if he decided this morning was good for a hunt. After all, when things became remotely uncomfortable for the king, the Kingswood was his sanctuary. Assaulting the daughter of the Hand probably qualified.

Jaime was not terribly worried about himself, unlike Cersei. After a night of thinking it all over, which had proven more tortuous than the act itself, he felt confident that he was not in the wrong. He had neither touched Robert nor demanded he leave the girl alone. Heavily implied, yes, but the decision was the king's to make. Even so, Robert would not dare anger his father. The fear of Tywin Lannister was what held the realm together.

Still, when Robert rounded the corner, cheeks red and huffing, a part of Jaime thought he might have been wrong. He thought the king was about to plow him over; he showed no signs of stopping until he halted barely short of his armored form. Jaime watched his eyes look him over, particularly his bruises. He could almost see the wheels turning in the king's head, which was a rare enough sight.

"You. In." Robert finally barked, marching into his quarters. "Selmy and the wench stay out!"

Jaime might have laughed at how his cousin knew to stand aside, had the movement not revealed two other followers.

One was a man he had spoken to just the other day, one of Ned Stark's soldiers. His hand was at the ready on the hilt of his sword. By the way Ser Barristan was watching him, something had already been attempted.