Chapter Text
Tywin Lannister stood on the fore-deck of Lady Joanna watching Lannisport grow ever nearer. They had already dropped the sails and were maneuvering under oar and rudder, the Captain expertly timing their small fleet’s arrival for mid-morning, just as he had ordered. Flanking Lady Joanna was Golden Lion and Warden, with all the rest spread out behind Lion of Lannisport, making a brave showing as they approached the city.
Casterly Rock loomed in the distance. His ancestors had gone to great lengths to accentuate the natural impression of a lounging lion formed by the cliffs facing the Sunset Sea. Even going so far as to carve balconies to resemble pupils above the more natural ‘nose’ that stuck out from the cliff face: at night it looked quite like the eyes glowed from the light reflecting from the chambers behind the balconies. They had also carved the protruding stone at the base of the cliff to make paws on either side of the main entrance. Paws hiding defenses that made a killing field of the area between them if they were ever to be besieged.
At the top of the rock above the face sat a ringfort that from this angle and at this distance, almost resembled a crown. The ringfort protected a central beacon tower that, in times of danger, could be seen from as far away as Faircastle and sometimes, under certain conditions, as far as the beacon tower near Ashemark to the North and the one at Crakehall to the South, although there were beacon towers in-between so they did not need to rely on a trick of the weather.
Glancing back at the fleet behind him he remembered how, almost a moon before, as they maneuvered their way through the Stepstones a fleet of six galleys from Tyrosh had tried to take some of their ‘stragglers’ and had quickly found themselves outclassed in every way possible, the front of their convoy having swung around one of the Stepstones to take the slavers from behind and the ‘stragglers’ being much better armed and crewed than they clearly had expected. The Westerlands were now richer by four galleys, and over sixteen hundred former galley-slaves had been conscripted for the duration of the voyage under the same articles as the rest of the Westerlander fleet. He knew at least some of them would walk off the ships they were crewing, gold in hand, and never again set foot willingly aboard another, but he thought that the novelty of not being harshly treated or chained to their oars might convince others to either re-enlist or become crew on other vessels out of Lannisport even if the bastardized Valyrian most of them spoke was a stumbling block.
Facing forward, his thoughts turned to a hot bath and a bed that did not swing from side to side and wondered, idly, if he was getting old before rejecting the notion.
*** *** ***
*** *** ***
Jaime stood with Jeyne in front of him watching as their ship followed the Lady Joanna in to the Lannisport docks. Beside them stood Tyrion and Willas who had a firm hold on Blossom’s lead for fear the very excited dog might leap over the side, so eager was she to get onto land. Behind them both stood the solid bulk of Sandor Clegane who had spent the entire voyage either supervising the other two boys or following the exercises Jaime set for him. Exercises, even against shadow opponents, were made harder by the pitch and roll of the ship, but that was half the ‘fun’.
“Is that Casterly Rock?” Willas asked.
“It is,” Tyrion told him. “It is taller than the Hightower. I’ve read it’s taller than The Wall in the North.”
“It isn’t all living space,” Jaime told him. “There are mines and a protected harbor. I’m sure you’ll be able to find your way around in no time.”
“Is it supposed to look like a lion?” Willas asked after a short pause.
“It is.”
“Our ancestors were…. a bit vain, I suppose,” Tyrion said, glancing up at Jaime with a smirk.
“Most of us are still vain.”
“I can’t tell if looking at the horizon is making me feel worse or better,” Jeyne murmured.
Jaime rested his lips against the back of her head and focused on how he felt about her. And about bringing her home. And after a few moments she relaxed back against him, which made him smirk a little because her focusing on him was distracting her.
*** *** ***
Disembarking was all about organizing chaos. Luckily they had servants to oversee the movement of their trunks and other items and Sandor took Willas and Tyrion down into the hold to bring up the horses because none of the crew wanted to try to handle Stranger. So all Jaime had to do was escort Jeyne off the ship, although when he saw Tess with Otter Yarwick on her hip trying not to be in the way he had them join he and Jeyne since he knew Addam was leading his men and already on the docks.
“You’ll like Cas’ly… Cas-ter-ly Rock,” Otter told Jeyne in a very serious tone. “But don’t get lost: its so big nobody will find you if you get lost.”
Jeyne grinned at him. “That’s very good advice,” she told him. “Did you get lost?”
Otter shook his head. “Almost. But Tess found me ‘gain.”
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They were in the second group. Father and the Uncles were at the front of the ‘parade’ but Tyrion was happier riding Conker behind the carriage bearing Jeyne, her cats, her two maids and Otter’s nursemaid Tess than he would be trailing along in his father’s wake. He had almost offered to have Otter up behind him but then Sandor swung the boy up to sit next to the carriage driver before he did and Otter seemed rather happier up there.
*He can certainly see better up there.*
Beside him rode Willas on Aster with Blossom on a long line, not that the dog took advantage of it: she trotted along next to Willas as nicely as anyone would want. He glanced behind him at Sandor on his monstrous horse and got a smirk from the man. Jaime, of course, was riding beside the carriage and, at least for the moment, did not look concerned.
*I think I can safely say all of us hope Jeyne does not get ill on the way,* he thought, then shook his head. *She is with child, not sick,* he reminded himself. But that only made him think, however briefly, of his own mother. *She, I think, would have loved Jeyne. Everyone does. Except Cersei.*
“How did they fit the stones together like this?” Willas asked once they were through the gate and outside of Lannisport. Up until then they had ridden in silence although Jaime had acknowledged the shouts of the crowds from time to time.
“Hmm? The pavers?” He leaned over slightly to get a better look at the road because he really had not thought much about it. “They’re granite. I think they were cut to fit. The small white ones in the corners are agate, I think.” *They make the the road looks like a river of stars in the moonlight.*
“Most of the primary roads: The Gold Road, The Ocean Road, and The River Road at least have these pavers, although there’s a layer of sand or dirt over the top most places,” Sandor said. “Kings Road too, once you get away from the city.”
“Why? I mean, why put dirt over it?”
“Spares the horses. Granite’s hard on ‘em. But this is a…. what you call it… it’s for show. To impress people.”
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*** *** ***
Even without looking outside the carriage Jeyne could tell when they rode up into the Lion’s Maw because it became darker and the large wheels of the carriage began to bump gently up each of the broad slightly sloped steps. Part of her; the part that remembered all too well the last time she had come here, felt oppressed and a bit frightened, but all she had to do was look out the window and see Jaime to know those horrible days were long in the past. The road, now truly inside Casterly Rock, rose and turned back on itself before going North again, across the drawbridge that overlooked the protected harbor below passing through three gatehouses as it did so. But she knew that if she looked up as they crossed the bridge she would not see sky, but instead the arching cavern roof as much of the living spaces were built above this level just as many of the working mines began on this level and below it.
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Standing in the well of the Grand Courtyard once again Jaime took a look around at the familiar people and breathed in the smells of home. ‘Rock’ had a smell now. People: his people, all had their own scents, but he stopped with that. Eyesight and hearing were both drawn in; as close to ‘normal’ as he could now get them because he had lost himself more than once on the voyage and Jeyne was the only reason he was still here. Still breathing.
He had spent a good part of the voyage learning how to filter even more things out. Practicing to reduce the impact of new sights and smells and tastes and sounds. It was easier when he was in contact with Jeyne, but he could do it on his own, most of the time. He had had to: there were so many sounds in the deep ocean, many of which he could not identify. Beyond the bubbling and slap of the waves against the hulls, there were eldritch songs never sung by human throats, and the passage of schools of fish and the larger creatures that preyed upon them. At one point he had almost, almost ordered the captain to head for shore immediately, ready to swear that he was never going across deep water ever again. But Jeyne had held his hands and made him listen to her by speaking quietly until whatever enormity had set off that reaction continued on heading south-westward at some depth that was far under their fleet. He and Jeyne had worked to keep his senses closer to the ship after that.
He dismounted, turning Honor over to one of the stable boys, took in Sandor who was already taking Otter down from where he had been perched, Willas, and Tyrion who were dismounting, gave a pat to the overly excited Blossom, and was at the door to the carriage just as the door was opened by one of the servants.
“My lady,” he began, only to find that he was now a perch for both Pye and Pearl who had hooked their claws into his doublet and were staring over his shoulders at everything going on behind him. He was grateful that during the entire voyage both the cats and Willas’ dog had gotten along fairly well because there was nowhere on shipboard for any of them to go to get away from each other without getting in someone else’s way.
Laughing, Jeyne took his hand and stepped down out of the carriage. “I think they missed you, my lord husband,” she teased him.
“Well, I am taller and thus a better vantage to survey their new kingdom from, my lady,” he teased back just as Pye, who was on his right shoulder, jumped onto Sandor’s back and then repositioned so she was hanging over his shoulder.
“Here now…” Sandor protested, but then got a goofy look on his face as she licked his good ear and purred. “Silly cat,” he continued, but there really was no heat in it.
Beyond Sandor Jaime could see his father being formally welcomed home by Seneschal Andros Farley and Castellan Ser Rory Witton, with a row of senior servants arrayed behind them, including Chamberlain Dalbridge. And beyond them he could hear the creaking and see the big wheel moving: already servants were taking the family’s personal luggage up to the family floor.
“We are already looked for, brother,” Tyrion murmured as he joined them while Willas was helping the others out of the carriage. “And I am sure Farley, and Dalbridge too, will want to meet Lady Jeyne.”
*** *** ***
It had taken time to get them all moved up to the family floor, baggage and servants included.
The Great Lift ran from the Grand Courtyard all the way up to the Ring Fort and the pair of two person or one donkey treadwheels operated two carriages that acted as a counter-weight to each other via a complicated pulley system. They could hold a dozen fully armed and armored men-at-arms each, or up to two thousand pounds by weight if moving supplies. Which was similar to the lift bringing cargo up and down between the port and the Grand Courtyard. But it still took time to get everything organized, loaded, brought up, off-loaded, and transported to wherever it was supposed to go.
Of course the term ‘family floor’ was a misdirection. Stepping off the Great Lift, if one turned left toward the Sunset Sea, there was a relatively narrow passage that went toward the front of The Rock that followed the course of the bridge below more or less exactly. Once past the trio of cleverly hidden solid stone portcullises that could be dropped down to close it off from the rest of Casterly Rock, one was, technically, in the family floor. Once through the large ironwood doors banded in iron just beyond the portcullises, the visitor was presented with three directions: A left hand passage, a right hand passage, and another set of doors, far more ornate than the last, which opened onto a more ornate passage that led into the family solar at the front of The Rock
To the left was a passage leading to a three floor warren of bedchambers all of which had long narrow windows that overlooked the well of the Grand Courtyard. These chambers were currently the rooms assigned to the pages and squires who directly served his uncles as well as their and his father’s varlets and other personal servants who were likely to be wanted either very early or very late at night. Some of the chambers on the upper floor were really self-contained suites which was where Rollo Mayatt, for example, had his chambers, but most of them were either smaller single or double chambers, although the squires and pages shared a dormitory. There were gang privys and storerooms also on each level and at least one armory.
The right hand passage ended in a simple oak door that opened into a corridor that almost immediately turned to the right and ran back to the East without ever intersecting with any of the other passages in the area. Here was another three floor warren consisting of storerooms, cisterns and work rooms including a laundry and a still room. These rooms had long narrow windows that looked North and included living space for the servants who worked there as well as baths, a dining hall and a kitchen for them and for the servants who lived in the chambers down the left hallway and the ones working for the Heir.
Just before the entrance to the door to the servants area was a circular stairwell that went up to ‘The Heir’s Suite’. That term too was deliberately misleading as the area was larger than the name might imply. The stairs opened onto a landing that could be closed off by another pair of carved ironwood doors. Beyond them was a corridor that ran East-West with another stair at the eastern end that went up to a similar passage on the next level. The heart of it all was of course, the actual chambers for the heir and his family, but there were enough chambers off those corridors to house a personal troop of men-at-arms, a dozen squires and pages, and all the servants that came with a separate household. Because it was a household separate from his father’s or uncles’ households. Some of the secondary chambers overlooked the Grand Courtyard, but most of them looked North toward the Straights of Fair Isle and nearly all of the North facing ones had balconies. There were also storerooms, an armory, a small kitchen, and a suite of baths that backed up to the one in the Heir’s chambers.
As he led Jeyne into what was now their domain, he wondered how he had given this up last time for a small cell and a white cloak. Oh he knew why he had initially agreed: you simply did not say ‘no’ to Aerys if you valued your life, and, at the time, he had still thought of the Kingsguard as a shining example of knighthood. But staying after the rebellion had put Robert Baratheon on the throne just to foil his father’s plans? For what? He could not now even tell himself it was to keep his twin ‘safe’. Because that was the least of his reasons, if it had been a consideration at all.
*I was an idiot.*
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Jeyne found herself continually surprised today. Last time: during the two horrible moons she had served Cersei, she had not even known this part of the ‘Family Floor’ existed. She had been aware that the chambers the family inhabited were extensive but she had not had the urge to explore, unlike some of the other girls. Serving as part of Cersei’s retinue had gotten her a small chamber in a corridor off the family solar that she had more and more thought of as her only refuge. Finally she had gone home and never returned, unable to deal with either Cersei’s mercurial emotions, the Maester’s putridity, or the very real fears of her fellows, to say nothing of how some of them were happy to backstab everyone else if they thought it would get them ahead in some way.
The first sign that they were entering another area reserved for a member of House Lannister was the doors at the top of the stairs. Ironwood was difficult to carve as it was so dense, but here the doors recreated the personal sigil of her lord husband: two life sized Lannister Lions combatant, the dark red stain of the highly polished ironwood contrasting properly with the gold leaf covered lions with their lolling tongues which were thinly edged in gold rather than being painted red. When the doors were closed the lions faced one another, but when open the pair on the inside of the doors each looked like the House sigil or its reverse, save for the edging around the doors which were entwined gold laurel leaves meant, she expected, to include the heraldry of her natal House. Which was a nice touch.
On the other side of the doors, the wide hallway was well appointed with a variety of hangings on the walls and the floor made up of smooth well fitted pavers much like the corridor at the base of the stairs and the landing, Half-sized oblong coronae depended from the ceiling at intervals and they were lit even in broad daylight because there were no windows in the corridor itself, although she imagined each oak door she could see led into a chamber with at least one window. All the doors except for one were plain, she noted: awaiting the sigils of their inhabitants, likely as pennons or shields, once they were claimed. The one that stood out was richly carved and painted, seemingly representing all the crops that grew in the Westerlands and it took a moment to see the hidden lions peeking out.
She was not at all surprised when Jaime stopped in front of this more ornate door, opening it with a flourish.
“Our home, my lady-wife,” he said, but the smirk on his lips belied his formality.
Inside was a long hallway that opened out into a solar with fireplace on the left wall and a door with diamond panes from top to bottom at the opposite end flanked by windows of the same that led out onto a balcony with a deep overhang. A door on the left wall next to the fireplace was open revealing what was likely meant to be Jaime’s solar or office. Another door on the other side of that room was closed. On the right wall there was an arched opening leading to an internal hallway going East paralleling the outer corridor. Here were a number of other doorways all open, the ones on the left leading into large well appointed bedchambers and the ones on the right leading into storerooms that might be used later as servants chambers. In the middle of the right hand wall was a clearly carefully bricked up and plastered over doorway. When she stopped to look at it, Jaime wrapped his arms around her from behind.
“It leads to a second level of the suite,” he murmured into her hair. “If ever we have that many children to warrant it, the doorway can be unblocked. There is no way into those chambers from the upper passage, if I remember correctly. We can put a tapestry over it, if it unnerves you.”
She turned in his arms and kissed his nose with a fond but slightly exasperated look that mirrored her feelings. “I am not so easily unnerved, husband,” she reminded him. “I feel nothing from it and thus feel nothing about it for good or ill.”
The first bedchamber was clearly theirs. It already had some of their trunks and other baggage lined up waiting to be unpacked and it was the only one with a fully made bed in it. Next to their chamber was clearly a nursery, arranged with a low wide bed for a nursemaid or other attendant to sleep on, a large myrish carpet, several chairs, a waist high table against one wall, a cupboard, a chest, and several shelves of toys on display. There was neither cradle nor cot, she noticed.
“They will bring up a cradle while you are in labor,” Jaime murmured. “And switch it for a cot a few moons later. Likely the one that was mine and Cersei’s until we left the nursery when we were five.”
“And the other chambers?”
“Await the expansion of our family, if and when.” He shrugged slightly. “Or you can use one as a solar if you prefer not to use main one.”
“I noticed you have your own.”
“Only to keep the mess contained,” he assured her. “You’re more than welcome to set up in there with me. I’d welcome any help you want to offer.” He turned them both toward the far end of the passage and when they reached the end he pushed open the door to reveal a sunken bath with a second water spigot in the wall and an odd tube that went up the wall to end over the drain in the room in a pierced flat circle that Jeyne did not remember seeing during her last, brief, stay at Casterly Rock.
“My father had the entire family floor’s water supply redone when I was a boy,” Jaime said. “Adding more cisterns, boilers, and so forth. Most baths even for the family don’t have this, but my father managed to get the plans from the Citadel somehow and he had it installed in his bath and in this one as well. Much better than pouring buckets over to wash before getting in the bath. Its quite like standing in a warm summer rain, although there is a limit to how long one can stand under it before the boiler has to refill from the cisterns at the top of The Rock.
“And you can still use the bath?”
“It has its own boiler. There is a series of them above here for both this bath and the ‘public’ one next to it. The boilers are gravity fed from the cisterns above, accessible from the upper passage and they are tended day and night.”
Voices from the direction of the entrance reached them, among them Wyot and what she thought was Chamberlain Dalbridge. Stepping out into the passage they could see more chests and baskets and things being brought in, some, like the cats’ things, left in the solar, others brought into their bedchamber and others, they found stacked near the door to the outer passage. Already Adara and Hazel were unpacking in the bedchamber: even she could hear them chattering away. Pye and Pearl came down the corridor toward them chirruping and clearly pleased with themselves, but also wanting them to follow. So they did.
In the solar the cats’ things were jumbled in the corner on top of their cushion and the cats’ clear irritation almost made her laugh as she and Jaime moved to set things to rights. Once the large pillow was uncovered and placed by the laid but unlit fireplace, Pye and Pearl settled down on it apparently content to supervise from a distance.
Outside, the balcony already had a few comfortable looking chairs and a table or two. There was also a lantern that could be raised and lowered on a chain if they wanted more light than whatever there was coming from inside.
The fireplace in the solar apparently backed onto a type of stove in Jaime’s solar. Floor to ceiling, covered in ceramic tiles a scattering of which had embossed Lannister Lions, it was tucked into the corner next to the trio of diamond paned casement windows that took up the rest of the outer wall and were mirrored in each of the bedchambers.
The rest of the room consisted or a work table and matching chair, several bookshelves, a cupboard, and a comfortable looking chair in one corner with matching footstool. On the floor was a myrish carpet: red ground and gold, blue, and green floral designs that appeared to have been woven to fit the room. It was clearly meant as both a workroom and a place to relax.
Already there were things awaiting Jaime’s attention on the table but before she could offer to help him with them she was called away to at least supervise where things were going.
*** *** ***
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Tywin trusted that all his own things would be put back in their correct places and so went directly to his solar. Walking through the doors into the family solar it felt as if a weight was being lifted off his shoulders for some reason. Shaking that off, he proceeded across the richly appointed room, past the entrance to the left-side balcony and into his solar where a mountain of correspondence awaited him: all the things that needed his attention but were not dire and all the things that had come in while they were travelling from King’s Landing.
*If we had marched home couriers would have found us every night or every other night,* he reminded himself, not sure that this pile waiting for him was any better than handling things piecemeal would have been
At least it was all neatly arranged by someone Rollo had approved using the usual system: most urgent on the top of the right front pile and then items of lesser import further down or placed in one of the other piles that made a squared arch around the outer edges of his workspace by age and topic.
*What I really want is a good meal, a warm bath and my own bed,* he thought, but instead of seeking any of that out he sat down and, with a suppressed sigh, pulled the first message off the front-right stack and started reading.
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Tyrion carefully inspected his new chambers, pleased to find that now he rated a balcony something that neither his last chamber nor the nursery chamber had.
Two years ago when he was finally allowed to move out of the nursery, the Uncles had arranged to have a suite of furniture made more or less to his measure, that would, in the main, be able to grow as he did. Bed, desk, chairs, cupboards, bookshelves, wheeled library steps light enough for him to push around: all of it designed with his ease in mind. He still needed a footstool to get into bed with any dignity, but he was expected to gain at least half a foot over the next decade and then he would be able to just climb right in.
When he had learned he was to be moved out of that chamber and into one in the Heir’s suite when they were still at Lion’s Den, he had wondered if his furniture would follow him. It had, and he privately chastised himself for worrying, but he still looked everything over to make sure nothing was dropped or cracked during the move, despite noting that everything right down to a pen resting on a bit of foolscap on the desk was, he was fairly sure, exactly how he had left it, even if now his bookshelves, desk and chair, and two of the comfortably padded chairs were in the outer chamber of the small two room suite rather than everything all in one chamber as they had been before. It was an attention to detail that suggested the movers had been very careful indeed. Or supervised by someone who knew that details mattered.
He was looking over his books and noting their placement had not been changed when a voice from the doorway interrupted his inspection.
“Is everything to your liking, my lord?”
Tyrion spun around and gave Jace, who had served as his varlet since he was moved out of the nursery, a slightly embarrassed smile. “It’s fine. Excellent even: everything is as I left it, just in a different chamber. Or chambers. I take it I have you to thank? If so ‘thank you’ for making sure everything is where it should be.”
Jace nodded. “Chamberlain Dalbridge received a raven from Ser Jaime saying that he thought you might appreciate your own solar.”
“I’m to be my brother’s amanuensis in addition to any training or other duties,” Tyrion confided. “Like Rollo Myatt is to our father. Researcher, organizer, writer of messages.” He made a rolling motion with one hand. “Later, if I learn all I can, I will be one of Jaime’s advisors like Uncle Kevan is to our father.” He grimaced slightly, adding: “When we are both old and grey, of course. I expect my lord-father will live a long life. He may even outlive all of us, for all I know,” he added with a slight shrug. “But what of you? Have you been moved up?”
“Understeward, although I have not yet met this Wyot who is to be over me.”
Only because he so often felt the same did Tyrion hear the hint of frustration behind Jace’s words. He was sure that Dalbridge had dangled the steward-to-the-heir position in front of him more than once. “He was assigned to Jaime at Lion’s Den and he’s done well,” he said simply. “I think you two will get on? He will need your help getting to know everyone.” He almost patted Jace’s arm but they were not friends, at least not close enough for such a gesture to be seen as anything but patronizing. “You’ll be fine,” he promised. “Later, when I’m a man grown, you can be my steward if you haven’t advanced by then. I know your worth.”
Jace nodded formally. “Thank you, my lord.”
“I am only speaking the truth and you know it.” He looked around the room again and spotted something he had not noticed before: a door in the side wall of the solar, currently closed. “Now. Where does that door lead? Privy?” Tyrion asked gesturing toward it.
“Your privy is through the other door in your bedchamber. This one connects with Ser Jaime’s solar. As you say: you will be his…” Jace trailed off with a slight frown. “Ad…?”
“Amanuensis,” Tyrion supplied. “A fancy way of saying bodyman, without the implied sworn shield aspects. He has, or will have, Sandor Clegane for that, thank all the Gods.”
After Jace left; called away by someone needing help with something, Tyrion eventually found himself curious enough to open the door to the privy. It was more or less what he expected, except for one thing. It was lower than he expected. A closer inspection showed that two courses of brick had been removed and used to make a broad step up, all of which would allow him to sit comfortably. As with many if not all of the privys in Casterly Rock the seat was carved stone and the drop below it was a very long one. He shuddered slightly as he put the wooden lid back on because he suddenly remembered Cersei trying to send him head-first down the privy in the nursery one time when he was very small. *The only reason I’m still alive is that her septa came looking for her.*
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Jaime slipped out between deliveries to check on everyone else. Dalbridge had told him that both Rafe and Adara, and Alyn and Hazel had been given quarters opposite and he could see Rafe clearly unpacking through one open door so he left the two men-at-arms to it. A listen at the open door just down from his own told him Tyrion was humming something as he went about unpacking, not that he could not have left it for one of the servants but he had begun impressing upon both Tyrion and Willas that on campaign they would be expected to handle their own things and whatever chores he or Sandor set them so it was good his little brother was getting on with things.
*But I’ll have to remind him the feast would start at the Hour of the Maiden: he’ll need to bathe and dress for that.*
The next door down was another two room suite housing Willas Tyrell. It was essentially the mirror or Tyrion’s, the two privys next to one another reached through the bedchambers and a small but well appointed solar as an ante-room. Here he knocked on the open door, which made Blossom bark once in greeting and bounce her way over to him from the rug in front of the corner fireplace, so he went to one knee to tousle her ears and gave her a good scratch right where she liked it best.
“Oh! Ser.”
He looked up to see Willas with a stack of braes in his hands. “How are you finding your new quarters?”
“I love them. I… I don’t have to share?”
“No. This is all yours to do with as you wish. Tyrion is next door and I’m on his other side. I think Sandor’s on the other side of you?”
“I think so. I…” He flushed a bit but also smirked. “I could hear him complaining.”
“It’s too big,” Sandor said from the hallway. “It is,” he protested when Jaime turned and raised an eyebrow at him as he got to his feet. “And too nice. I’m no great lord…”
Jaime shook his head because he trusted that Dalbridge had made sure Willas’ and Sandor’s chambers were appropriately furnished. “Your holding may be small Sandor, but you are one of my father’s liegemen, like it or not. Dalbridge was right to give you a suite of chambers.”
“It don’t feel right.”
“It doesn’t feel right now. Give it some time. Both of you go to the baths: they’re down the other end of the passage. We only have a few hours before the feast and you will at least want to get the salt spray out of your hair.” *And I’ll speak to Wyot to have someone lay out the clothing you’ll need to wear.*
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Bathed and dressed in clothing ‘befitting a Lannister’: red and gold silk brocade doublet over-embroidered at neck and wrist and hem, and red and gold striped silk hose, Tyrion settled yet another hat with a crenellated brim upon his head with a nearly inaudible sigh.
*Ever feast is a mummery,* he reminded himself as he looked at himself in the mirror, although Aunt Genna had, once again, helped him look very nice. *House Lannister playing a farce before our people, pretending to a united front.* He considered that even as he considered his appearance. *With Cersei gone? Perhaps someday I might be proven wrong.*
A knock on his outer door made him look away from the mirror that hung low on the wall so he could see all of himself in it.
“Come in.”
“Tyrion?” Willas’ asked as he entered the solar.
“In here. I’ve yet to put my shoes on.”
“These clothes were waiting for me in my room.” Willas came in wearing the green of House Tyrell, the hem, cuffs, and neck of his silk doublet trimmed in embroidered gold roses with gold rose fasteners down the front and green silk hose with gold pinstripes.
“I imagine they were. Except for that one suit, what you had with you was fine for everyday, but no one expected you to be fostered and as much as we were in King’s Landing for so long…” He shrugged slightly because it had not been enough time, really to get Willas completely kitted out, not with everything else that they had been doing. “I imagine most of your best was left at home?”
Willas shrugged. “All of what my Gran called my ‘kick-abouts’ were left home too.” He pulled at the front of his doublet. “I actually don’t much like green.”
Tyrion could not help grinning a little mockingly. “I prefer a darker red myself. And I like blue, and black,” he admitted. “But here I am,” he continued, raising his hands and turning slowly in place. “Lannister red and gold just like the rest of the family.”
*** *** ***
*** *** ***
“Are you going to be all right coming to the feast?” he asked Jeyne when he returned to their chambers and Adara and Hazel had curtsied to them and then left to see to their own chambers.
He had gone to use the shared baths down the passage to leave her their private bath, thinking, rightly, that it would take longer to sort things. And that she might like to spend longer in the bath both to remove any sign of their travels and to relax in the warm water for all that she was not yet showing. As a result he was not wearing more than a pair of braes and the first clean shirt he laid his hands on, and would likely have to hurry if they wanted to get down to the hall in time.
“You know it has tapered off a bit these last few days,” she reminded him. “And I am not my mother.”
He remembered he had found a raven message for her among the other messages and had handed it over without more than seeing who had sent it. “When is your mother coming for a visit?” he asked.
“She’s on her way already. Father sent her a raven before we left so she and my sister will be arriving soon.”
“Am I going to be taken to task for marrying you at King’s Landing and not waiting?”
She raised an eyebrow at him, then shook her head. “No. That is all on our fathers and Mother knows that.”
*And Cersei,* Jaime thought, trying not to grimace.
“I hope that look is not for me, husband,” she teased him, then did a turn to show off the sleeveless gold on red silk damask gown she was wearing, its small pattern alternated chaplet surrounded Lannister Lions and berries on vines. It was trimmed in myrish lace and accented by a pearl and ruby necklace and matching girdle belt. The red silk undergown had ‘leg of mutton’ slashed sleeves revealing the blue of House Allgood and its skirts peeked out from under the overgown when she walked, or turned. Her hair was half-hidden by a net caul of gold with pearls and rubies alternating where the strings crossed each other.
“I haven’t seen you wearing this before, but I like it,” he told her gently touching the edge of the caul.
“Your Aunt Genna brought it with her and she insisted I should wear this.” She indicated the rest of her outfit.
Jaime dropped his head forward and managed to only smile. “Aunt G is a law unto herself,” he reminded her. “It is her mission in life to make sure we are all well turned out. What did she leave for me?”
She gestured toward the bedchamber. “She laid out clothing for you too. She said they would compliment?”
He nodded to her and went to change just as there was a knock on the outer door. He already knew it was Sandor and he tuned out the conversation between Sandor and Jeyne as he quickly dressed. It was not nearly as fussy as ‘court wear’, but it was close enough that he expected he would need the shoulders of the over-robe that matched Jeyne’s overgown pinned to the long skirted red silk doublet anyway.
*At least I’m wearing turned-brim cap similar to what I was wearing off the ship.* The hat was more ornate, with gilt edges along the brim and around the crown, but it was not going to fall apart if he sneezed either.
*** *** ***
The feast that day was typical of the ones served at Casterly Rock: a showcase of the best of the bounty of the Westerlands. Jaime was gratified that a pitcher of chilled lemon-water was watched over by Sandor who kept Jeyne’s goblet topped up. He had come along quite well in the few months he had been learning to serve at table, but he would have been down with the other squires today except that Jaime had asked him to ‘make sure’ of Jeyne’s comfort. He was, he admitted, a little on edge as the start of the feast approached, although he truly had no idea why.
Mortrews of goose was a bit of an amusement to start the feast as the cooked and pounded goosemeat, and breadcrumbs, bound together with beaten eggs and spiced with long pepper, salt, galangal, and herbs was cooked and served inside goose eggshells that had been carefully split lengthwise and placed in a bed of deep fried shredded cabbage made to look like a nest and salted enough that Jaime almost thought it was fried seaweed. It was served with a reduction of red wine and cherry juice and was paired with a strong dark red, likely the same one as was in the sauce. The mortrews were served warm, but not so hot that one would burn their fingers lifting off the upper half of the shell and Jaime found it rather an improvement over most of the mortrews he had ever had and made a mental note to let the kitchen know it was definitely something to serve again.
The next course was several salats that paired well with a rather fruity white wine. All of them had lettuce, early spinach, and herbs like mint and green onion, and borage. One had wedges of boiled eggs and crumbles of cheese, one was dressed with pickles of various types, one had tiny brined fish and fennel, and one was wilted by being tossed with a hot bacon, verjus, and honey sauce.
The next course was a seafood stew: a mix of mussels, clams, at least two types of fish, shrimp and crab in a broth made from the bones, heads and tails of the fish as well as the crab and shrimp shells, clam liquor and white wine, seasoned with herbs and chopped seaweed. It was served with fresh rolls and sweet butter, the sourness of the bread contrasting nicely with the almost sweet saltiness of the stew and a nice if somewhat astringent white wine.
The next course was clearly meant as a palate cleanser as it consisted of a pear perfectly poached in red hippocras. The ones brought to the high table had gilded stems and leaves, and each had been carefully cored and filled with honeyed and spiced walnut meats, and sat on a bed of candied mint leaves. The same hippocras, chilled, was served with it.
The main course was roast wild boar. Jaime knew there were many in the hills to the east of Casterly Rock and that it was to the point now where his father allowed even the smallfolk to hunt them from time to time just to keep their numbers manageable and the destruction of crops to a minimum.
Preceded by two cornu who announced the arrival by playing ‘attend to orders’ then stood aside to reveal the enormous head of the boar, it’s coarse hair combed out and tusks gilded in silver was processed into the room, the musicians in the gallery playing one of the lesser known processionals. It was borne up the length of the hall on the shoulders of four men, its mouth held open by a wicker horn that was itself filled and overflowing with nuts, fruit and vegetables, all of them grown in the Westerlands, surrounded by a bed of bay and rosemary branches, and illuminated by four fat candles in the corners of the silver platter it rested upon.
Platters of the boar’s meat were brought to each table already sliced, and it was served with roasted asparagus, baby broccoli in a cream sauce, wine braised wild mushrooms, sauted greens with garlic, and a dish of apples, onions, and bacon. A rather heady mead was served with this course.
This was followed by pies and tarts, some filled with meat, some with vegetables and herbs or fruit, and then by cheese and fresh fruit all accompanied by the wines that paired with them best.
Jaime had long ago learned how to pace himself and so he was not among those who looked a bit distressed at the end of it all. In fact, as he processed out of the hall behind his father, Jeyne on his arm, he smirked just a bit.
*** *** ***
*** *** ***
Tyrion stepped out onto his balcony, pleased that a chair with footstool and s low table was already waiting there in the corner for him, facing West-Northwest. He put his mug of well watered and mulled wine down on the small table, settled himself into the chair and took the time to appreciate the perfect comfort the cushions on the chair and footstool provided him before turning his attention to the sunset.
By now the sun was very nearly set: at this time of the year it fell into the sea very nearly due West from Casterly Rock so he was spared the last of its bright light and could appreciate the way the few puffy clouds he could see began to change color. As he watched, he considered reading out here especially during the moons they had before the next winter, but he would need a brighter light-source.
*Perhaps a table lantern. One with a reflector?* he thought as he picked up his mug and took a sip, letting it sit in his mouth while he tried to guess what was in it. *A berry wine. Mulberry perhaps? galangal, long pepper...* Jace would know what was in it as he had brought it to him, but he liked to play this game with himself anyway.
*** *** ***
*** *** ***
Jaime stood on the balcony outside the bedchamber leaning out over the railing so his face was fully into the wind coming up off the Sunset Sea as sunset moved toward night. He could smell and hear Tyrion apparently seated on the next balcony over and the mulled wine he was enjoying. After filtering his brother out Jaime could smell the salt spray, and the faint stink of dead fish and rotting seaweed: the wrack farmers would be out tonight regardless of the moon’s phase collecting the rotting largess of the sea to compost just as their cousins the gong farmers would be cleaning privys in Lannisport and mucking out the catch-basins below Casterly Rock before high tide could do the work for them.
It was a horrible job, being a gong farmer: up to your waist in a slurry of piss and shit every night then having to transport it out of town to special midden sites and bury it until it rotted into compost. But the ones who worked at Casterly Rock were each paid three stars a ton, which worked out to between six and eight pennies a night on average, which was a good wage in the Westerlands, and they were also able to sell the compost to the farmers later. That much he did remember from when the maester tasked with their schooling was trying to make him and Cersei when they were seven or eight namedays understand that not everyone had servants or could buy whatever they liked. Picking the worst job either of them could possibly imagine did not endear the old man to Cersei and he doubted she even remembered the lesson now. That maester had caught a ‘winter fever’ the same year Tyrion was born and died of it, he remembered.
The wind changed and now he could smell green growing things. He was not sure what: there were many fields of corn and vineyards in that direction as well as sheep and cattle in the rolling hills between Casterly Rock and Ashemark so it might also just be green grass and field herbs that he was smelling.
Jeyne’s hand on his an unknown amount of time later brought him back from wherever his nose had led him. By now it was true dark and the stars shone down like jewels overhead, the moon not set to rise until later.
“You were very far away,” she murmured as he wrapped her in his arms.
He kissed the top of her head. “I am relearning my home,” he murmured back. “It smells so… ‘green’. Nothing at all like the lands around King’s Landing. We never did travel far enough away from the city all the time we were there that something of the stink did not carry. And then when we were on the ship: all the people pressed together. No matter how they might try, and some did not try at all, I could smell each and every one of them. Hear every one of them unless I was trying not to. It… my senses seemed to get sharper as we travelled.”
“The thing you sensed below us.”
“Was enormous and terrifying and I hope never to cross its path again.” He tightened his arms slightly around her and sighed. “I almost wish I could ask. Describe what I sensed of it and see if the maesters have ever heard its like.”
“But you can’t.”
“But we cannot. No.” He glanced out at the darkened landscape that stretched out below them. “Here is safety,” he said after a long pause. “And danger too. I haven’t forgotten about Maester Creylen. I will deal with him. I wish there was a way to make sure of Elwys. I think he would be happy to help, but would he keep it secret?”