A Game of Lies

The Beginning

He always knew which White Cloak was his father. He always knew. And today was no different. He ran through the halls, and as soon as he saw the shining backs of the Kings Guardsmen he knew which was Jaime Lannister.

"Father!", He called, and sure enough, the valiant Jaime Lannister turned around.

"Well hello son. Have you broken your fast?"

"Yes sir. I was just heading out to explore".

In truth, he had not broken his fast. He never did unless his presence was required at the same time as his fathers, which wasn't often. He wasn't much for eating in the early hours.

He was a skinny lad, but his strength was undeniable. He was a bit taller than most his age of thirteen although he'd be fourteen shortly, and nothing else like them. At least in his mind. He just couldn't find a group to fit in. In fact, he felt a whole lot like he didn't fit in anywhere most days. He was a Lannister, by law. The King had granted him that one mercy, but he was a bastard nonetheless.

His hair was odd. His mother must have had brown hair, because through all the golden streaks, was a dark brown, almost black hair. He didn't know anything of his mother, other than she was a woman. He never asked, and his father never told.

King Robert often calls him the Dirty Cub when he's drunk. He knows it's a reference of the dirty blonde hair on his head, but he hates when his differences between his father are announced. It's often the main material his cousin Joffrey uses against him.

He was twelve, yet he was his greatest tormentor. He was relentless with reminding Lewy he was a bastard, and thus not worthy, and he should be ever so grateful that his wonderful father granted him the noble name of Lannister. Sometimes he wonders if he'd have been better off as Lewyn Waters. But no, he's ever so grateful to be Lewyn Lannister.

Lewy didn't mind the King. No, King Robert was very kind to him. Even when he's drunk, which is often, he finds Lewy's company ever so amusing. The King has always been kind to him, and obviously favors him over his own twelve year old sons company, much to Joffreys dismay.

King Robert makes sure he's included in hunts, festivities, and the such. And not just present, but among the noble houses of Lannister and Baratheon. Sometimes, even closer to the King than Joffrey, as the King has said to be since Jaime is a White Cloak, whom must be close at all times, and the Queens brother. Lewyn finds it strange though, that sometimes the Queen herself sits far away from the King. Quiet. Just staring.

The Queen. Such a wicked beauty. She's worse than her eldest son. She despises Lewy, and he her. He'd even voiced that. Once. The slap to his cheek by his father's hand told him he shall never say it again. His father didn't hit him often, but when he did, the Queen was usually involved.

But now his father stood before him, valiant and charming in his armor, holding his helm in one arm, and his other hand placed upon his young sons shoulder.

"Have you checked in with Maester Pycelle? Has he looked over your arm?", his father grabbed his arm, pulling it up for closer inspection.

"My arms fine, father. Truly, it hasn't hurt me in a whole week!"

"The wound hasn't fully healed, Lewy, you must be careful. Has Maester Pycelle been cleaning it well every evening?"

"Every evening, every morning, every mid day break, every time I go to the privy-"

"Lewyn", his father said, exasperated.

"Every time I go outside, every time I even so much as glimpse outside", the boy  continued.

His father cracked a smile.

"If it pleases you father, we could ask that Maester Pycelle simply follow me around everywhere, and continuously wash and change my bandages every few minutes".

Jaime Lannister stared back at his son. He worried for his sons wellbeing, true enough. But he was starting to see what his son was trying to tell him. He's almost a man. He was a strong boy. He was a lion. He just loved that boy with his everything. He couldn't help but be concerned. And rightfully so, as Lew wasn't exactly immune to injury and incident.

"Go", he said, "have fun. But please, Lewy, please be careful. And be back in time to get cleaned up and in the Great Hall tonight", he said, as Lewyn turned and sprinted off.

"Oh don't be late this time!", Jaime called after him.

"I won't father! I promise!" , And he was off around a corner.

Jaime walked back to his fellow White Cloaks, just as Ser Barristan Selmy turned the corner, hurriedly, a look of concern on his face.

"Jon Arryn is dead", he said, out of breath.

"No", Jaime whispered, as the collective gasp filled his ears, but a smirk pulled at his lips.

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