Chapter 166

Jaime’s face twitched, and his right hand clenched the sword tightly, his knuckles turning white.

He wanted Cersei to live freely and happily, but more than that, he wanted her to live. But how? What choice should he make?

Jaime Lannister was no longer the reckless, naïve boy who had joined the Kingsguard sixteen years ago. Robert was no longer the man who had toppled a mad king and half of Westeros with him. And outside the gates of King’s Landing, there was no army of Westerlands elite led by Tywin Lannister ready to storm the capital. Would he make the humiliating choice to comply? Or would he throw everything away for one moment of defiance, drawing his sword to kill or be killed, dragging his entire family into ruin?

After a moment’s hesitation, Jaime realized that neither his cunning nor his experience was sufficient to navigate the situation. He could only survive, get out of the Red Keep alive, and somehow get word to his father. Tywin could then pressure Robert from all angles and devise a plan to save Cersei.

The logic was sound, but Robert offering him the "privilege" of choosing his place of confinement—wasn’t that naked humiliation? If he obediently chose and allowed himself to be locked away, watching as Cersei was forced to bear Robert’s child, could he still call himself Jaime Lannister, the proud lion of Casterly Rock?

His sword arm trembled, muscles taut with indecision. Myrcella, clinging to that very arm, sensed his hesitation even through the armor. She tightened her small hands around him, looking up at her uncle with tear-filled eyes, silently begging him to yield.
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“The rumors are true.”

The words cut through the tense silence like a blade.

Jaime froze, his heart pounding. Cersei, kneeling on the floor, gave him no chance to continue his internal struggle. After a moment’s pause, she spoke again, her voice steady and cold, devoid of hesitation.

“Jaime is my lover. The first and only man I ever loved. The first and last man to ever take me.”

Jaime’s remaining shred of reason fought desperately to suppress the beast within him. But Cersei gave him no reprieve. Her voice hardened, her words laced with venom.

“Kill him, Jaime. Either he dies, or we both die here together. If you dare leave me here to be some broodmare for this monster, I’ll hate you until the grave!”

Being confined in the Red Keep, forced to bear children for the man she despised, knowing Tywin would be paralyzed by the scandal and unable to act—this was a fate worse than death for Cersei. If she had to die, she would do so on her terms.

The game of thrones was simple: you win or you die. And even in defeat, she would choose the terms of her end. That was the last dignity of a Lannister.
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“Father, Mother is just angry!” Joffrey finally broke his silence, snatching the excuse Myrcella had crafted earlier. If the earlier argument was just a domestic spat, his mother’s words had now crossed a line, threatening his own claim as crown prince. “No matter what, you’re my father!”

“She’s just angry, Your Grace,” Jaime finally managed to speak, his voice strained and desperate, his skin crawling as he silently begged the gods to shut his twin sister up. But his lips betrayed him, producing a stronger threat: “If you dare strike her again, Robert, I swear I won’t just stand here and watch.”

Cersei might have been speaking out of anger, but who said angry words couldn’t be the truth? Robert, sick of speculation and half-truths, decided to follow Ned’s advice for once.

“Fine. I’ve heard enough. I know the king shouldn’t hit his queen,” Robert said, his voice laden with mockery. “But I’m still waiting for your answer, Kingslayer. The Red Keep or Dragonstone?”
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“You once got me pregnant, Robert.”

Cersei didn’t give Jaime a chance to answer. She raised her head and spoke with a venomous edge, her words a curse aimed directly at Robert. “But I had Jaime find a woman to get rid of it. That was your only chance at a legitimate heir, and you didn’t even know. I killed your son in my womb, dissolved him with medicine, and dumped what was left into the sewer. And gods, it was satisfying!”
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Robert didn’t react immediately. His rage didn’t boil over in an instant.

“Are you sure that’s true?” he asked coldly, his eyes narrowing. “You remember it so clearly?”

“Oh, yes. I remember it perfectly,” Cersei replied, her voice dripping with contempt. “And why wouldn’t I? There were only two times you managed to crawl on top of me, drunk out of your mind, muttering ‘Lyanna’ under your breath. Your beloved Lyanna. The whore who stole another man’s affections.”

Her words struck deep. Robert’s fury erupted like wildfire.

With a roar, he swung his warhammer, aiming directly for Cersei. “You wretched woman! Go to hell!”

“Don’t you dare!” Jaime roared back, yanking Myrcella aside like a rag doll. His sword flashed forward, aiming for Robert’s chest. To hell with the family. To hell with his honor. If he could stand by and watch another man strike his sister, he wouldn’t be Jaime Lannister.

“Kill him, Jaime!” Cersei screamed, rolling out of the hammer’s path and diving under a table. “If you can’t kill him, we’ll die here together and meet in the next life as siblings once more!”
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Robert, even in his rage, was a seasoned warrior. His instincts saved him. Instead of pursuing Cersei, he spun and swung his hammer in a wide arc, forcing Jaime to retreat and block the blow.

CLANG!

The sound of their weapons colliding was deafening, even though Jaime had only deflected the blow rather than taking it head-on. The sheer force behind Robert’s swing was staggering.
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“Jaime!” Ser Arys Oakheart shouted, his voice filled with both disbelief and resolve. A Kingsguard attacking the king was unthinkable, but Ser Arys had no choice. He unsheathed his sword and charged at his former brother in arms. Behind him, Ser Boros Blount hesitated but ultimately followed, his teeth clenched.

“STOP!” Robert bellowed, pushing Jaime back with another hammer swing. His gaze fell on Myrcella, who had crawled back toward him, her small frame trembling as she tried to shield her family from further violence. The sight pierced his heart.
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“Take the prince and princess away!” Robert growled. “I’ll deal with this bastard myself!”

“Your Grace?!” Both Kingsguard knights looked at him in shock.

“DO IT!” Robert’s voice thundered, and his grip on the warhammer tightened. His blood boiled with anticipation—he hadn’t fought a worthy opponent in years.

“Kingslayer,” he spat, “whether your sister’s words are the truth or a lie, let the gods judge it. A trial by combat—fair and square. If you win, you and your sister will walk free. But if I win…” He grinned savagely. “You can rot in hell for not boarding that ship to Dragonstone.”
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