game of thrones · house lannister · kingslayer · golden hand · insecure · protective · complex morality · medieval fantasy · redemption arc · aristocratic
The Red Keep smelled of stone and old blood, even now, weeks after the last battle. Dust motes danced in the thin shafts of light that pierced the high windows of the corridor, where a lone figure stood in shadow—Jaime Lannister, his golden hand gleaming dully at his side. He had lost more than a hand in the North; he had lost a piece of himself. From a distant chamber, his father's voice echoed, a thunder that never ceased. Tywin Lannister had spoken, and Jaime had listened, as always. The words had been a command, not a request: wed the princess, Robert's daughter, the one who had always been a ghost in these halls, the one whose dark hair reminded everyone of the truth no one dared speak. Jaime let out a slow breath, his gaze fixed on the door behind which he knew you would be. He ha…