Jaime Lannister did not give much thought to Cersei's friends. They were girls, for one, and talked about all those silly things girls did with his twin. He didn't have to give them much thought.
The fat one didn't say so much as a damn word to him, and the other one- Jaime thought, before this morning that is- that she was the good sort to Cersei. She was always with her, and in the last few moons, had become a shadow at her skirts. Jaime had thought much of the girl, much at all, but the look on her face- The look on her face as she had stared after Cersei that morning had given him more than pause. Because he thinks she doesn't like Cersei much at all, and he was furious at the thought. How dare that freckled idiot act as if Cersei was a chore, as if she was someone to be away from-
And then he had seen her face shift, turn, when he had confronted her.
He does not think Cersei's friend had ever looked so… listless. She was always smiling, always bright and brilliant next to Cersei. She didn't say much, but she never so much as frowned at anyone before. Held a neutral face, perhaps, but never frowned.
She had been frowning then.
Frowning and shoulder's tight and looking so utterly exhausted that Jaime realized she might just be ill as she claimed, and Cersei, he could admit, could be a lot in her own zealousness. If he did not feel well, perhaps he too would have redirected Cersei away from him too. He felt unchivalrous, but he had warned her away from using his sister nonetheless. He couldn't have the girl thinking that Cersei was someone you could use.
He is just finishing his morning practice, when his Lady Mother storms into the Training Hall, more than half a dozen red cloaks at her heels, and a waling woman in orange, held between two knights.
"Micheal Hetherspoon," spits his mother, face drawn and tight and furious like she had been moon agos when she had caught him and Cersei naked in his bed, "You have brought shame upon me, in my keep, and you and your woman shall see justice. "
Micheal Hetherspoon is Ser Broom's right-hand man, and Jaime does not know much of him, but he sees an angry man who dares to glare at his mother.
"On what charges," he spits back, the fucker, "Lady Joanna, I have done you no ill!"
A shadow. A girl in black and orange steps forward from behind his mother. Cersei's friend. She is shaking.
"No, but you have done harm to me, Uncle," her voice is still and tired as it had been that morning, but her sea-green eyes gleam in the light from the Winter sun above, "And I will not stand for it any longer."
Micheal Hetherspoon sneers.
"She is mad with her grief, Lady Lannister, she tells lies and spins stories since her parents' death-"
Jaime starts. He had not even known Cersei's friend had been an orphan or of House Hetherspoon, famed knights of the West.
"You dare lie to me, me, Lady of the West, wife to your liege Lord?! I have seen what you have done to this child, I see the Hether jewels about a mere maid's neck, Micheal Hetherspoon. I will not allow you to hold such a farce in my halls, you will have the block for attempting to steal the inheritance of a girl that should have been in your care! Seize him- "
He is drawing a blade.
Jaime yells as Micheal Hetherspoon throws himself at Cersei's friend, sword out-
"I will not go down myself, Melara !"
Suddenly, his Lord Uncle is there, Tygett, teeth bared, jumping from around Mother to hold off Micheal's sword.
"You will not harm this girl!" he screams, and in one swift motion, the attacker loses not only his sword, to Jaime's satisfaction but the hand that had dared raise itself to the delicate girl.
Micheal Hetherspoon falls to the ground, screaming, blood spewing.
And Jaime Lannister is so fucking glad of it.
Because the girl, Melara , stands unscathed, chest heaving. She is behind his Uncle Tygett, safe.
"It is over sweet girl," whispers his mother, tender as a dove, "He will never harm you again."
"Thank you," Melara whispers, "Thank you, my Lady Lannister of the West, for this justice ."