silver sword || jaime lannister

second.

CASTA DID NOT know what Jaime Lannister was doing, nor did she know where he was taking her. All she knew was that he walked in a sullen silence, and it made her uncomfortable.

All she'd heard of the man was that he was insufferable, a horrid travelling companion, and had no honour. She had heard that he took delight in baiting others into a fight, and that he rather enjoyed tournaments where more than two lives were lost (otherwise, it seemed a rather dull affair). She had heard tales of his journey with the sworn sword of Lady Catelyn Stark, the one that cost him his hand.

Still, she found him intriguing. Anyone with enough rumours about them that they made their way to the slums of King's Landing was guaranteed to be intriguing.

Casta only knew what she had heard, and she was keen to find out whether the man himself lived up to all the rumourmongers claimed.

He had a way of walking that marked him as noble, Casta had decided. Following him from behind, trailing him as she had trailed so many men before, she watched him as he moved. It was almost comical, really. Perfectly upright, as if it took him so little effort to straighten himself out. Jaime Lannister walked as if he owned all the stones his feet touched, but Casta supposed that when his family ruled, he did.

There was something else in his step, too. A hesitancy she had not seen in other lords. He was highborn, through and through, of that she had no doubt, but he walked differently to others. She had seen Eddard Stark, Renly Baratheon, Loras Tyrell, all of them now dead, walk these same streets, and none of them had walked like Jaime Lannister.

The Red Keep loomed above, as the empty, smoking husk of the Great Sept once had, and Casta knew then that she was being taken to that grand castle. It was what she had expected, after all. Where else would the Queen Regent's brother go upon his return?

She did not know what Jaime intended to do with her, though. All she had asked for was to be taught how to fight, nothing more. She had a home down these same winding streets. She did not wish to be given anything beyond what she had asked for.

Nonetheless, this was not the way to the Red Keep that Casta knew. She had entered it only once, through the tunnels which led to Maester Qyburn's suite. That 'once' had been a few short days ago, when he had informed them of the Queen Regent's intentions with the Mad King's fire.

Casta remembered the smell more than anything. Old and damp, the smell of something which had been kept from daylight for far too long. Maester Qyburn himself had a similar scent, though perhaps more foreboding.

She hoped that was not what all the Red Keep smelled like. It would be a far more dreadful place if it did.

No, this was a different way to the Keep. Not to the main entrance, either. She knew the rest of King's Landing, yes, but this area was the Kingslayer's hunting ground. She would not be surprised if he knew of several thousand entrances to the Red Keep.

The streets grew wider as they approached the massive structure, the clouds of ash having faded behind them, the sky opening up ahead. She followed him through corner alleys, every house seemingly boarded up and shut off. Casta frowned. The inhabitants must have been hiding inside. Either that, or they had been killed at the Sept. The terror of the wildfire had reached even the edges of the city. Not a single person stirred in the streets, bar Jaime and herself.

Soon they drew close along the walls of the Keep, rising high above them and the surrounding buildings. The Keep was built to intimidate, and even centuries later, it continued to do so.

The Red Keep would always stand, they said. When the Keep fell, the end would come.

Perhaps they used to say that about the Great Sept, too.