Chapter 155: The Lion's Jealousy
The final soldier landed upon his back.
Corvin's twin swords left his hands a heartbeat later, spinning through the cold morning air before burying themselves in the snow.
Jon stopped one blunted sword against Corvin's throat.
The second rested above his heart.
Silence consumed Winterfell's training yard.
Thirty elite soldiers lay scattered around Jon.
Some were already rising. Others remained upon one knee while recovering their breath. Broken practice swords and deep footprints covered the snow. Several wooden training posts had been reduced to splinters during the battle.
Jon stood in the centre of the destruction.
His breathing remained steady.
A shallow cut marked one sleeve where a blade had nearly reached his arm. Snow clung to his boots, and several strands of black hair had fallen across his forehead.
Those were the only signs that thirty elite warriors had challenged him.
Corvin looked at the blades resting against him.
"I yield, Your Grace."
Jon withdrew both swords.
Corvin rose immediately and collected his weapons.
The other soldiers did the same. Within moments, the thirty men had returned to formation as though the battle had never occurred.
None complained.
None appeared ashamed.
They waited for their king's judgment.
Corvin stepped forward.
"Was the training satisfactory, my king?"
Jon examined the formation.
"Your coordination improved."
Several soldiers straightened slightly.
"Your hesitation did not."
No one moved.
"You had three opportunities to sacrifice one formation and force me toward the eastern wall," Jon continued. "Each time, you delayed because the man leading the advance would have been eliminated."
Corvin lowered his head.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"You are elite soldiers. If sacrificing three men creates victory for twenty-seven, you sacrifice them."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Review the battle this afternoon. We repeat the exercise in three days."
The thirty soldiers struck their fists against their chests.
"Yes, Your Grace!"
Their unified response echoed between Winterfell's stone walls.
Robert stared at them.
Then he stared at Jon.
"Repeat it?"
Jon handed his practice swords to a waiting soldier.
Robert gestured at the destroyed training yard.
"You intend to do this again?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Corvin just answered that."
"In three days?"
Jon glanced at him.
"That is generally what three days means."
Robert barked out a laugh.
"Gods, Ned. He becomes more irritating every time he opens his mouth."
Ned's attention remained upon the thirty soldiers.
"This is ordinary training for them?"
Corvin answered before Jon could.
"Whenever His Grace summons us, Lord Stark."
Jaime looked toward him.
"How often does that happen?"
"Whenever our king believes we require correction."
"And do you ever defeat him?"
"No."
The answer came without embarrassment.
Robert laughed again.
"At least the man is honest."
"We have forced His Grace to adjust his methods," Corvin continued. "That is sufficient proof of improvement."
Barristan studied the soldier carefully.
"You were attempting to win?"
Corvin turned toward him.
"Yes."
"You possessed no restrictions?"
"Our blades were blunted because this was training. Beyond that, none."
A murmur spread through the gathered nobles.
They had watched thirty exceptional warriors surround Jon, attack from every direction, shatter weapons, and drive one another through the snow with enough force to cripple ordinary men.
Yet some had still convinced themselves that the soldiers must have been holding back.
Corvin's answer destroyed that comfort.
Barristan looked toward Jon.
"And you fought with only your swords and breathing techniques."
"Yes," Jon said.
Robert folded his arms.
"No strange northern magic?"
"No."
"No vanishing?"
"No."
"No trees emerging from the ground?"
Jon raised an eyebrow.
"You would no longer possess a training yard."
Robert considered the shattered posts and furrows carved through the snow.
"I barely possess one now."
Arya slipped through the gathered adults and hurried toward Jon.
"That was incredible!"
"Arya," Catelyn warned.
Arya ignored her.
"You moved so quickly that I could barely see your swords. How did you block the man behind you without looking?"
"I heard him."
"But everyone was shouting and swords were striking everywhere."
"He was louder than the others."
Corvin's expression remained disciplined, although the soldier beside him appeared to suppress a smile.
Bran approached more carefully.
"Could you have fought more?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
Jon looked toward him.
"Enough to make Father uncomfortable."
Ned already appeared uncomfortable.
"That is not a number."
"It was not intended to be."
Robert laughed and slapped Ned upon the shoulder.
"Now you understand how I feel whenever you refuse to answer a simple question."
"You normally ask questions which should not be answered publicly."
"A question remains simple merely because the answer causes problems."
Catelyn drew Arya and Bran several steps away as the nobles began moving closer.
Questions came from every direction.
"How long does such training require?"
"Can every elite soldier use those techniques?"
"Are the men born with such strength?"
"Could northern knights learn it?"
Jon ignored most of them.
Robert did not.
The king stepped forward, his attention moving between the thirty soldiers.
"Could you teach my Kingsguard?"
The questions stopped.
Jon looked at him.
"No."
Robert blinked.
The refusal had come so quickly that it sounded almost prepared.
"Not even Barristan?"
"No."
The old knight showed no offence.
Robert gestured toward the soldiers.
"I am not asking for thirty thousand men. Seven would be sufficient."
"No."
"What about this Basic Breathing your ordinary soldiers use?"
"No."
"Gods, Jon. Is that the only word you know?"
"When you repeatedly ask for something that will not be given, yes."
Robert's amusement faded slightly.
"We are discussing an alliance."
"An alliance does not require me to surrender my kingdom's military disciplines."
"It would make my Kingsguard stronger."
"That is precisely why you want it."
Robert stared at him.
Around them, several lords became noticeably still.
Jon continued calmly.
"The breathing techniques belong to Winter's Heaven. I will not provide instructors, written methods, physical exercises, incomplete versions, or advice which assists outsiders in recreating them."
"Outsiders?" Robert repeated. "You called me uncle yesterday."
"You remain my uncle."
"And a king seeking alliance with you."
"You also remain an outsider to my military."
Robert's mouth tightened.
Ned stepped forward before the conversation could become more dangerous.
"Robert, he is correct."
The king turned upon him.
"Of course you think so."
"If the positions were reversed, would you provide Winter's Heaven with every secret possessed by the Iron Throne?"
Robert opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Jon glanced around the training yard.
"I have yet to discover any."
Robert stared at him.
A rough laugh finally escaped Barristan.
The sound surprised everyone, including the old knight himself.
Robert pointed toward Jon.
"That was almost an insult."
"It was entirely an insult," Jaime said.
Jon looked toward him.
Jaime stepped forward, his golden hair catching the pale morning light.
"What if the request came from an individual?" Jaime asked. "Not the Iron Throne. Not an army."
"You mean yourself."
"I do."
"No."
Jaime's jaw tightened.
"You have not considered it."
"There is nothing to consider."
"Perhaps I possess sufficient discipline."
"Your discipline is irrelevant."
The answer struck harder than a direct criticism.
Jaime's expression cooled.
"You do not believe I could learn?"
"I believe the technique belongs to my kingdom. Whether you are capable of learning it changes nothing."
Jaime held Jon's gaze.
Yesterday, he had been defeated by Jon's ordinary soldiers.
This morning, one elite soldier had defeated both him and Barristan. Then Jon had defeated thirty warriors of the same rank.
Now even the opportunity to pursue their strength had been dismissed without consideration.
Barristan placed one hand upon Jaime's shoulder.
"The answer has been given."
Jaime glanced at him.
The old knight's expression carried no anger.
Barristan understood military secrets. House Dayne did not teach every visiting knight the complete methods surrounding Dawn. The Kingsguard did not provide its formations to sellswords. No rational king strengthened potential enemies merely because they asked.
Jaime understood all of that.
Understanding did not lessen the insult to his pride.
Robert exhaled heavily.
"Very well. Keep your damned breathing."
"I intended to."
"One day, I will ask you for something and receive a pleasant answer."
"You asked for an alliance."
"And you said you would consider it."
"That was pleasant by my standards."
Robert looked toward Ned.
"How did you raise him without throwing him from a tower?"
"I did not throw any of my children from towers."
Something unreadable passed across Jaime's face.
Jon noticed.
No one else appeared to.
Robert remained unaware of the meaning hidden within Ned's innocent response.
Before Jaime could speak, a woman's voice entered the conversation.
"You should be grateful he offered to consider the alliance at all."
Cersei approached from the edge of the gathered court.
She had changed from the heavy cloak she wore earlier. Deep crimson fabric followed her figure beneath a mantle of dark fur. Golden hair rested across her shoulders, and the low neckline of her gown remained deliberately generous.
Jon's eyes descended briefly.
Cersei saw it.
A private smile touched her lips.
Jaime saw that as well.
Robert turned toward his wife.
"You have discovered gratitude this morning?"
"I recognise value when it stands before me."
Her green eyes remained upon Jon.
"Unlike certain men."
Robert grunted.
"I praised him."
"You attempted to take his kingdom's secrets immediately afterward."
"I asked."
"You continued asking after he refused."
"That is called negotiation."
"That is called being told no repeatedly."
Several northern lords suppressed their amusement.
Robert scowled at his wife.
"You appear unusually determined to defend him."
Cersei stopped beside Jon.
"I watched him defeat thirty extraordinary warriors without suffering more than a torn sleeve. Such a performance deserves appreciation."
Her voice softened upon the final word.
Jon met her eyes.
"You doubted I could do it."
"I questioned whether the stories were accurate."
"And now?"
Cersei's gaze moved over him slowly.
"Now I believe the stories failed to describe enough."
Only they understood the conversation completely.
The challenge.
The promise.
The reward awaiting its victor.
Jaime stood less than ten feet away.
He watched his sister's expression change when she looked at Jon.
Others saw a queen flattering the ruler of a powerful foreign kingdom.
Jaime saw the slight narrowing of her eyes. The private curve of her mouth. The deliberate warmth in her voice.
He knew those signs.
He had spent years learning every variation of Cersei's desire.
She stepped closer to Jon and touched the torn fabric upon his sleeve.
"Were you injured?"
"No."
"There is blood."
"Not mine."
Cersei's fingers remained upon his arm longer than necessary.
"Fortunate."
Jon looked down at her hand.
"Concerned for me?"
"Perhaps I dislike seeing valuable things damaged."
Her words sounded diplomatic.
Her expression did not.
Jaime's hand tightened around his sword belt.
The movement was small.
Jon noticed it immediately.
Cersei continued examining the torn sleeve as though no one else existed.
Jon allowed her to.
Jaime stepped forward.
"You appear remarkably interested in northern swordsmanship, sweet sister."
Cersei removed her hand from Jon's arm and looked toward Jaime.
"I appreciate exceptional performances."
The words struck Jaime like another defeat.
Jon saw it.
So did Cersei.
Robert, entirely unaware, laughed.
"You should have appreciated mine during the rebellion."
"I heard about it often enough."
"I killed Rhaegar upon the Trident."
"And reminded everyone for fourteen years."
Robert's laughter became louder.
The attention of the gathered nobles shifted toward him.
Jaime's did not.
He looked at Jon.
"Does defeating your own men provide you with pleasure?"
"Improvement provides me with pleasure," Jon answered. "Victory is expected."
Cersei smiled.
Jaime's fingers flexed.
Jon's gaze fell briefly toward the golden knight's hand before returning to his face.
"You should relax, Ser Jaime."
"I am relaxed."
"You have already trained enough for one morning."
Robert roared with laughter.
Even several northern lords joined him.
Jaime did not.
The previous day, Jon's ordinary soldiers had humiliated him.
This morning, Corvin had studied Jaime's finest techniques before ending the fight whenever he wished.
Now Jon dismissed him before Cersei.
Worse, she appeared entertained by it.
Jaime forced a smile which never reached his eyes.
"Concerned I might request another lesson?"
"No."
Jon's voice remained entirely calm.
"I am concerned you have learned nothing from the first two."
Silence briefly returned.
Barristan stepped between them without appearing to do so.
"We should allow the soldiers to clear the yard."
Ned immediately agreed.
"Yes. The morning meal will be served shortly."
Robert clapped Jaime upon the shoulder with enough force to move him half a step.
"Come. You can recover your pride with wine."
"It is still morning, Your Grace."
"That has never stopped either of us."
Robert began walking toward the Great Keep.
Most of the court followed.
Catelyn guided the Stark children away, although Arya repeatedly looked back toward Jon and the thirty soldiers. Bran was already attempting to imitate one of Jon's stances with an imaginary sword.
Cersei remained beside Jon for several moments.
Jaime noticed.
She turned before anyone could question it and followed Robert.
Jon watched her leave.
His gaze descended briefly along the back of her gown.
Then he looked toward Jaime.
The golden knight had seen that too.
Jon smiled faintly and joined Ned.
Jaime found Cersei before midday.
She was walking through an isolated corridor connecting the guest chambers to Winterfell's covered bridge. Two Lannister guards followed several paces behind her.
"Leave us," Jaime ordered.
The guards looked toward Cersei.
She nodded.
They withdrew without question.
Jaime waited until their footsteps disappeared.
"What are you doing?"
Cersei continued walking.
"You will need to be more specific."
"With him."
She stopped.
"Jon?"
The casual use of his name worsened Jaime's anger.
"King Jon," he corrected bitterly. "Since you appear so impressed by him."
Cersei turned.
"Everyone was impressed."
"Not everyone touched him."
"He had blood upon his sleeve."
"It was not his."
"I discovered that after examining it."
"You already heard him say he was unharmed."
Cersei's lips curved.
"You watched us very carefully."
Jaime stepped closer.
"I watched you."
"As you always do."
"I know how you look at a man you intend to use."
"Then you should understand there is no reason for concern."
"I understand that you could barely remove your eyes from him."
Something cold entered Cersei's expression.
"Lower your voice."
"No one is near."
"That has never prevented walls from developing ears."
Jaime glanced along the empty corridor.
"What exists between you?"
"Diplomacy."
"Do not lie to me."
"You are becoming tiresome."
"You stood before the entire court looking at him as though—"
"As though what?"
Jaime stopped.
He could not complete the sentence.
Not here.
Perhaps nowhere.
He could not accuse the queen of betraying her brother without revealing what existed between them. He could not claim Cersei belonged to him while Robert remained her husband and king.
Cersei recognized his helplessness.
It pleased her.
"You are jealous," she said.
"I am cautious."
"No. Barristan is cautious. You are furious."
"He is dangerous."
"So are you."
"He cannot be controlled through smiles and a low gown."
Cersei raised an eyebrow.
"You believe my gown was intended for him?"
"I saw where he looked."
"Men look."
"You encouraged it."
"And if I did?"
Jaime stared at her.
Cersei stepped closer until only inches separated them.
"Does it anger you that he desires me?"
"It disgusts me."
"No."
Her voice became soft and merciless.
"It frightens you."
Jaime's face hardened.
"You watched him defeat thirty warriors you could not defeat individually," Cersei continued. "You heard him refuse something you wanted as though your talent meant nothing. Then you watched him look at me."
"This has nothing to do with swordsmanship."
"It has everything to do with it."
Jaime caught her wrist.
Cersei looked down at his hand.
"Release me."
"What did you promise him?"
Her eyes rose slowly.
For one heartbeat, Jaime saw the answer in them.
Not its exact form.
But enough.
His fingers loosened.
Cersei pulled her wrist free.
"You truly believe you can manipulate him?" Jaime asked.
"Every man possesses desires."
"He is not Robert."
"I am aware."
"He knows what you are doing."
"Perhaps."
"And you will continue?"
Cersei smiled.
"Perhaps I want him to know."
Jaime felt something hot and ugly twist within his chest.
"What are you offering him?"
"That is none of your concern."
"I am your—"
He stopped again.
Brother?
Lover?
Father of her children?
Every truthful answer was treason.
Cersei's smile became colder.
"You are my sworn shield and a knight of Robert's Kingsguard."
The words were deliberately cruel.
They placed him precisely where the world believed he belonged.
At her side, yet possessing no claim upon her.
"Behave accordingly, Ser Jaime."
She walked past him.
Jaime turned.
"Cersei."
She did not stop.
"If you enter his bed, do not imagine he will support Joffrey afterward."
Her footsteps slowed.
"He does not need to support Joffrey."
"Then why?"
Cersei glanced over her shoulder.
For once, she provided no clever answer.
She merely smiled and continued walking.
That frightened Jaime more than any denial could have.
The Great Hall remained loud long after darkness settled over Winterfell.
Robert had transformed the evening meal into another celebration. Northern lords drank with knights from the royal party while musicians struggled to make themselves heard above the conversations.
The morning's battle dominated every table.
Men attempted to describe movements they had barely seen. Each retelling made Jon faster, the soldiers larger, and the shattered training posts more numerous.
For once, exaggeration failed to surpass reality.
Jon sat near Ned and Robert.
He drank little.
Robert compensated for him.
"You should celebrate," Robert said, filling his own cup again.
"I trained."
"You defeated thirty men."
"I have done so before."
"That does not make it less worthy of wine."
"It makes excessive celebration unnecessary."
Robert stared at him.
"You truly were raised by Ned."
Ned cut a piece of roasted meat.
"I enjoy celebrations."
"You attend them like funerals."
"Perhaps your presence creates the confusion."
Jon's lips curved.
Robert looked between them.
"Both of you are determined to ruin my evening."
Across the hall, Jaime watched Cersei.
She sat beside Robert and behaved precisely as a queen should.
She spoke with Catelyn.
Corrected Myrcella's table manners.
Ignored Joffrey's sullen expression.
Barely looked toward Jon.
As the meal continued, Jaime began questioning his suspicions.
Perhaps Cersei had merely used flirtation to test Jon.
She had done similar things before. Beauty was a weapon, and Cersei enjoyed proving she could unsettle powerful men.
Perhaps the unspoken promise he sensed had existed only in his imagination.
Then Cersei lifted her wine.
Her eyes met Jon's across the hall.
One finger touched the rim of her cup.
The gesture lasted less than a heartbeat.
Jon gave no response.
Cersei lowered the cup and returned to her conversation with Catelyn.
Jaime's stomach tightened.
Several minutes later, she rose.
"The day has exhausted me," she told Robert.
Robert barely looked away from his drink.
"Then sleep."
Cersei's expression hardened briefly.
She turned toward Catelyn.
"Good night, Lady Stark."
"Good night, Your Grace."
Cersei left through the eastern doorway with two guards and a servant.
Jaime followed her departure with his eyes.
Jon remained seated.
He continued speaking with Ned about the proposed alliance. He listened while Robert described another version of the Trident. He even answered one of Bran's questions when the boy approached the table.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Jaime slowly relaxed.
He had mistaken a meaningless gesture for a signal.
Cersei might have intended only to remind Jon of her interest before leaving him to wonder.
That sounded like her.
Nearly half an hour after Cersei's departure, Jon placed his untouched wine upon the table.
"I have had enough for one evening."
Robert looked into Jon's nearly full cup.
"You have had nothing."
"Then recovery should be swift."
Robert waved dismissively.
"Go. Ned and I will discuss the treaty without you."
"That would make it considerably easier to reject."
"You have too many conditions."
"I have not provided them yet."
Robert groaned.
Jon stood and inclined his head toward Ned.
"Father."
Ned nodded.
"We will speak tomorrow."
Jon left through the western doorway.
A different exit.
A different corridor.
No one watching casually would connect his departure to Cersei's.
Jaime did.
He stared at the empty doorway.
Every instinct demanded that he follow.
He could invent an excuse. Claim concern for security. Ask Jon another question. Discover whether the northern king truly intended to meet Cersei.
But leaving immediately after him would be noticed.
Barristan sat nearby.
Robert remained at the table.
Ned saw too much even when he said nothing.
Jaime could not risk it.
"Are you unwell, Ser Jaime?"
Barristan's voice drew his attention.
Jaime looked toward him.
"No."
"You appear angry."
"I dislike losing."
Barristan glanced toward the doorway through which Jon had departed.
"This morning's defeat still troubles you?"
"Yes."
It was not entirely a lie.
Jaime had lost twice that morning.
First upon the training field.
Then without drawing his sword.
________________________________________
Cersei waited within an isolated guest chamber in the western tower.
The room had not been used since the royal party arrived. Its distance from the occupied chambers made it inconvenient for honoured guests.
Tonight, that inconvenience made it valuable.
A fire burned within the hearth.
Two cups of wine rested upon a small table.
Cersei stood beside the flames wearing a crimson gown beneath a dark fur cloak.
She heard footsteps outside.
Unhurried.
Alone.
A knock came once.
"Enter."
The door opened.
Jon stepped inside and closed it behind him.
His gaze travelled across the chamber, noting the second door, narrow window, wine, fire, and the absence of servants.
Then he looked at Cersei.
"You took your time," she said.
"I did not wish to make your brother more suspicious."
Her smile faltered.
Only briefly.
"What makes you believe Jaime is suspicious?"
"He looked prepared to challenge me because you touched my arm."
"Jaime is protective."
"Jaime is jealous."
The words remained between them.
Cersei studied his face, searching for uncertainty.
She found none.
"How much do you know?" she asked.
"Enough."
It was not an answer.
Cersei recognized that Jon would provide nothing more.
She removed her cloak and placed it over the back of a chair.
The crimson gown beneath it possessed thinner fabric and a lower neckline than anything she would wear before the court.
Jon's attention descended openly.
Cersei's smile returned.
"Does his jealousy concern you?"
"No."
Jon reached behind himself and turned the key in the lock.
"But it amuses me."
Cersei stepped toward him.
"You defeated thirty elite warriors this morning."
"I remember."
"You refused Robert, Jaime, and Barristan without hesitation."
"They requested something belonging to my kingdom."
"And now you have come to collect something belonging to me."
She stopped directly before him and placed both hands upon his chest.
Jon looked down at her.
"Something you freely promised."
"Yes."
Her fingers moved slowly over the fabric covering his chest.
"Although I find myself wondering whether the promised reward was sufficient."
Jon placed one hand upon her waist.
Cersei did not retreat.
"What else are you offering?"
Her green eyes remained upon his.
"That depends upon how courageously you collect what you have already earned."
Jon smiled.
Then he drew her closer.
End of Chapter 155
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