Jaime liked nothing about this situation, but he did not let it show on his face. He was, as Cersei suggested, clean shaven for this event, and the press seemed to like it. Or maybe they were just excited to see him at the gala when he had been largely out of the spotlight for the past six months.
They asked as many prying questions as possible, namely about how he was coping with the loss of his hand. It was in their nature.
" I still have one," he told most of them with a winning smile. "I'll get by."
Because he couldn't tell the truth. That he still felt his phantom hand every day. That sometimes he replayed the events of that day play repeatedly in his head until he fell asleep on his couch. That everything felt meaningless to him now. No. He couldn't give them that. So he flashed that charming smile and pretended that he was witty and optimistic about the whole thing.
When he finally made it into the ballroom, several of the Lannister Corporation shareholders sniffed him out immediately. He played their games, answering their questions just like he might answer the questions of the press. Glancing past one of their shoulders, he saw Cersei watching him. She gave him a smug smile and a little wave, and he resisted the urge to mouth 'fuck you' for fear of it being noticed.
"So, Jaime," Farman said. "Coming back to work for the company soon? We could use you."
Oh, I'm sure you would use me as much as possible, Jaime thought. "Not yet. I still have some things to work out on my own. There's plenty of time. My father has everything handled for now."
As he suspected, he had to answer the same question approximately one thousand times. It was almost a relief when he nearly collided with Robb Stark and was then forced to make polite conversation with him. At least it wasn't one of his father's henchmen.
"Mr. Stark. It's been some time," Jaime said. "How's business?"
"Well enough," Robb said coolly. "How's your hand?"
Most of the others at the part had danced around that question. It was almost refreshing that Robb didn't.
"Still missing, I'm afraid," Jaime said. "I hear your cousin joined the KLPD recently. Shame that I missed working with him."
"Yes, that is a shame," Robb said. "Though maybe for the best. I'm not sure the two of you would get along."
"No," Jaime said. "I don't suppose we would."
None of Ned Stark's children liked Jaime. Because Ned Stark did not like Jaime. And it had nothing to do with him being a Lannister. No. He and Ned Stark had some serious disagreements about his actions during the war and, in typical Stark fashion, he had never forgiven Jaime for that.
So, you're a cop now. Funny profession for a man who escaped justice.
Jaime exhaled. Ned Stark had been dead for three years. He shouldn't still be hearing his voice in his head.
"Enjoy the rest of the party, Stark," Jaime said at last, clapping Robb on the shoulder as he passed. "Hopefully we won't have to speak to each other again."
Jaime had to admit, the charity gala was not without its value. Watching the wealthy elite pretend to like each other? That was entertaining. And he especially enjoyed watching the Baratheon family drama play out over the course of the night.
Three Baratheons at odds. Who will take the throne of Baratheon Inc?
As it stood, Stannis Baratheon had control of the company. He was already on the board before Robert had died and was known for curving his brother's wilder impulses. With him in charge, Baratheon Inc. was doing better than ever. The big issue? No one really liked Stannis-allies and rivals alike. He was stiff as a board and terrible at conversation. He was a fish out of water at a gala like this, and no one could stand to speak with him beyond the usual courtesies. It was almost painful to watch him. Jaime's father didn't like people either, but at least he knew how to be charismatic when necessary.
And then there was Renly. He had taken his brother's place on the board after Stannis earned his promotion. As a people pleaser with a whole closet full of colorful suits, he could not be more different from his bore of a brother. He laughed loudly and charmed Baratheon shareholders with ease. Some said that he would be a better CEO than either of his brothers. He was more responsible than Robert but more charming than Stannis. An ideal combination.
And now he had the esteemed daughter of House Tyrell on his arm. Margaery, the darling of the press for her charities and her modeling work, was set to marry Renly Baratheon in a few months. It had come as a surprise to almost everyone because Renly Baratheon did not seem… partial to women.
They were a pretty couple. Jaime watched them both work the room with ease. Between the two of them, they could charm every soul in the room, and perhaps make them forget about the danger of a Baratheon-Tyrell merger.
And then there was Joffrey.
Joffrey Baratheon, Jaime's dear nephew, the eldest son of Robert Baratheon. In his will, Robert specified that Joffrey should eventually inherit the company, perhaps forgetting that Joffrey should not be in charge of that much money ever . It was a legacy thing, perhaps. He wanted Joffrey to inherit his company just like Tywin wanted Jaime to inherit his-even though they would both be terrible at it.
I'd like to think I'd do a better job than Joffrey though, Jaime thought absently as he watched Joffrey circle the room. He was charming enough tonight, almost matching Renly in his game of charisma. His mother must have promised him a reward if he behaved.
It really was an uncertain time in the Westeros economy. Three CEOs dead in the past year and uncertain inheritance situations on the horizon. The chips were falling, and no one could tell which family they would favor when they landed. Stark, Lannister, Baratheon, Tyrell. They came to this charity gala to monitor each other. This was not for the charity or for the food. It was work, just like everything else.
Eventually, Jaime found a place on the edge of the room when he could not bear to speak to anyone else. And there his father found him.
"Good of you to come," he said. "I wondered if you would."
"Well, you sent Cersei to me and she asked very sweetly," Jaime said. "I thought I could manage one night."
"Yes, you're managing fine," Tywin said. "More than one of our partners has made a point to tell me you 'look well'."
"I'm so glad I'm fooling them," Jaime said, sipping on his drink.
Tywin glanced at him. "Cersei has expressed concern about your state of living."
"The place is a little messy. Nothing to worry about," he said.
"And scattered with copies unsolved case files."
"Well, you always told me to never leave a task unfinished."
His father was giving him a look. Jaime could feel it without even having to turn to see it. But he kept talking.
"It passes the time, that's all. So many unsolved murders. For every unsolved murder, there must be a culprit out there lurking. Like whoever killed Arya Stark. Hard not to wonder about that, don't you think?"
"Yes," Tywin said. "It is hard not to wonder."
"I guess I don't have much hope of solving that one," Jaime said. "Not even you could find anything on her, so what chance would I have?"
I'll never measure up to you. Everyone knows it. Including you and me.
"You're not with the police anymore," Tywin said. "There's no point in you obsessing over those cases."
"What else will I do with my time?" Jaime asked.
"Something useful perhaps?" Tywin asked. "I have a few tasks that I'm sure you could manage."
Jaime's grip tightened on his glass. "I'm not as sure as you." He exhaled. "I'm sorry… Father. You know I've never been good at this sort of thing. As much as you always tried to teach me. None of it did any good."
"I taught you to read, didn't I?"
"Yes. You taught me to read. And I hated you for it." Jaime glanced at him. "Are you eager for me to hate you again?"
"After we haven't spoken for three months?" Tywin raised an eyebrow. "I thought you already did."
Jaime winced. Yes, he supposed he didn't blame him for that. But then, didn't all of Tywin Lannister's children hate him just a bit? The old lion didn't seem to lose much sleep over it.
"Come to more events like these," Tywin said. "Let people see you. You can hate me if you'd like, but I'm not about to let my son lock himself away all day in an apartment feeling sorry for himself."
"So you'd rather me be in public feeling sorry for myself?" Jaime asked.
"You lost a hand, Jaime," Tywin said. "The rest of you remains. Don't forget it."
Before he could reply, his father continued on his way. Jaime exhaled, setting down his empty glass and rubbing his remaining hand over his face. He hated that his father was right, in some ways. Staying in his apartment and running through old cases was not helping him in the least. He just didn't want to admit his father was right. His ego didn't need any inflating.
"How did that go?" Cersei asked, sliding up beside him on the wall.
"It could have gone worse," Jaime said. "He wants me to come to more social gatherings to help with the business."
"You can manage that, can't you?" Cersei asked. "It's like I told you Jaime. He wants to use your charm and your smile to his benefit. Let him. It's a small thing."
"If I give him an inch, he'll take a mile," Jaime said. "He'll have me at a desk job within a month."
"Yes. God forbid you have a desk job when you have a perfectly good couch job," Cersei said. "Oh, wait… that's not a job."
Jaime gave her a look.
"I'm just saying," Cersei said. "It would be nice to have someone else to deal with father sometimes. I've done my share."
Yes. She had. "I'll think about it," he said. Then he pushed off the wall to circle the room. He wanted to avoid any more conversations with shareholders and family.
He had made a half circle around the room without attracting anymore conversation, but when he reached the main doors, another familiar voice interrupted him. But this one he was at least glad to hear.
"Uncle Jaime!"
Jaime looked down to see Myrcella coming toward him.
"Cella. How are you this evening?" He flashed her a smile, looking over her lovely pink gown. "That's a beautiful dress."
"Do you like it? It's new." She grasped the skirt in her hand, swishing it around a bit. "I'm sorry I missed you, but I won't be here much longer."
"Other plans?" Jaime raised an eyebrow.
A flash of panic went through her eyes. Myrcella never could hide a single lie in that pretty little head of hers. She was an open book to anyone with eyes. "No. Just… a few friends."
"Uh huh." Jaime tilted his head to the side. "Is one of those friends your Uncle Tyrion?"
Myrcella bit her lip. "Please don't tell Mother."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Jaime said. "Go have fun. Believe me, I wish I could join you but I'm trying to curry favor with the old lion."
"Is grandfather angry at you for something?" Myrcella asked.
"Oh, he usually is," Jaime said. "Nothing for you to worry about Myrcella. Its family politics."
"I'm family too, you know," Myrcella said. "And I'm an adult now."
Oh, sweet girl. Only barely, he thought. Myrcella would be better off if she could stay well away from the family business. She was too sweet-natured for the whole thing.
"Yes, I know," he said at last. "But, adult or not, I think you'll have more fun with your uncle." He was aware of someone else watching him and he looked just over Myrcella's shoulder to see a red-headed girl with dark brown eyes. She seemed Myrcella's age, but she didn't dress like one of the wealthy elite. She looked like a security guard. "Who's your friend?"
"Oh. This is Beth Rivers." Myrcella stepped to the side. "She's my personal bodyguard. Mother hired her."
Jaime's eyebrows shot up. "Bodyguard. Really."
"Yes," Myrcella said. "She's actually quite tough, so don't cross her."
"Wouldn't dream of it." He looked back to Beth. "Sorry to doubt you Miss Rivers."
"That's all right," she replied. "You're not the only one to respond that way."
"Jaime Lannister." He held out a hand. "Forgive the left-handed shake. It's the only one I have."
"It's all right," Beth said, clasping his hand. "I'm left-handed, so I don't mind."
She had a firm handshake and a steady gaze, and Jaime felt exposed beneath it. There wasn't… hatred there exactly, but there was a coolness that unsettled him. Most teenagers didn't stare like that unless their eyes had seen a great deal of terrible things.
"I'll keep Miss Myrcella safe," she said as she dropped his hand.
"I'm sure you will," he said. "You seem… very attentive."
"She is." Myrcella said, linking arms with her guard. "I'll see you soon I hope, Uncle."
"Yes. See you soon," Jaime said, watching the two girls hurry off down the hall. What a strange pair they made. Practically opposites, but Myrcella seemed to have taken to her new bodyguard. At least that would help her mother sleep at night.
Beth River's eyes stuck with him even as he returned to the party. In a world where most looked at him with either hatred or admiration, he was not used to such a neutral stare.