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In the dark of the night, Jaime found Tyrion, holding a bottle of the finest Highgarden wine.
Tyrion, with a face full of bitterness, said, "Cersei and Father are probably already toasting in celebration. Perhaps if I die, the Lannisters will finally be free of this stain. I've lived far longer than I should have. Maybe I should be grateful. Here's to the Lannisters."
With a sardonic smile, Tyrion raised his glass.
"Don't say that, Tyrion," Jaime started, but his words trailed off. His conscience wouldn't allow him to finish.
To Cersei, Tyrion was the murderer of their mother. To Tywin, Tyrion was a blot on the family name, a constant joke.
Only Jaime had always defended him, always seen him as a brother. But now, Jaime wavered. Perhaps it was fear of their father's wrath, perhaps the death of his son, or perhaps it was because the loss of his hand had left him like a lion without claws, powerless to protect anyone.
Faintly, Joffrey's words echoed in his mind: "A knight with a broken hand, who can he protect?"
Or perhaps, Jaime was simply tired. Yes, tired. From the moment Tyrion was born, Jaime had been his protector. Every time Cersei wanted to deal with him harshly, Jaime had stepped in to shield him. But now, he was weary. Perhaps it was the breaking of his hand, the feeling of being unable to defend anyone anymore.
"Enough, brother," Tyrion said with a tired smile. "Maybe you're the only one in all of Lannister who still sees me as a brother and a family member."
"What name will I have after I die?" Tyrion mused. "Regicide? No, that's your title. Nephew killer? Father killer? Mother killer? Sister killer? Brother killer? No... I never wanted to kill you. I never have."
"They may not have wanted me dead either, but they've never had any intention of letting me live."
Tyrion paused, staring into the glass before continuing. "I always tried to add some color to the Lannister sigil. But instead, I was seen as the greatest stain on the family name."
"If only... If only I'd known that my death would bring them so much joy. That it would help my sister forget her pain over the loss of her son. Maybe I'd rather have been crushed to death by a beetle, just like Orys was."
Jaime couldn't help but laugh at the dark humor, but there was pain in it, too.
"Do you remember Orys?" Tyrion asked with a grin. "Kang-kang-kang!"
Jaime chuckled in response. "Of course, I remember! Ever since Orys hit his head, he'd sit by the flower bed every day, smashing beetles, kang, kang, kang."
"Ha! Exactly! And Jaime, I've always wondered... why did Orys smash beetles? They didn't do anything to him. It made no sense."
"I asked him once, and all he said was, 'Smash them! Smash them!' The senselessness of it puzzled me for days. So I watched him, day after day, until one day he was kicked to death by a mule. And still, I never found an answer."
Tyrion took another long drink, his mind drifting.
What was the point of his life? Was it really any different from the beetles Orys had smashed?
A fool if strong enough could control the life and death of a beetle, with no reason, no justification. The beetle hadn't wronged him; it had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The stronger one simply had the power to crush it.
The truth was, the rules of right and wrong were never decided by heaven. They were decided by those in power. And those who made those decisions, could they be trusted not to have their own interests at heart?
Jaime, looking at Tyrion, was torn, his heart aching. After a long pause, he spoke softly, "Tyrion, I am sorry."
"It's alright, my brother. You've done all you could. I don't blame anyone. And as for the battle with Stannis, though I said we should have let him come in... You know, I was just talking. If I could go back, I'd still stop Stannis from reaching the city."
Tyrion's words hung in the air, a rare moment of sincerity between the two brothers.
"I didn't do it for the others, I did it for Joffrey, for him and his golden hair..."
It was clear that Tyrion had come to terms with everything. He was finally at peace with it all nothing mattered anymore.
But just as he was about to let go, Jaime spoke a single sentence that shattered his composure.
"No, I wasn't talking about that. I was talking about Tessa. I'm sorry."
"Tessa? That girl..."
"No! I lied, she's not what you think. She's just a simple farmer's daughter. Father thought she was after Lannister money, so he made me lie."
"By the seven hells! Jaime, you're a bastard! A complete bastard! She's your sister-in-law! You watched as your sister-in-law was..."
"Get out! Get out, Jaime! Far away from me! I'll be in hell waiting for you, waiting for Cersei, waiting for Tywin, waiting for every Lannister! Waiting for you all to die a miserable death."
Tyrion had never hated the Lannisters more than in that moment.
The person Tyrion had trusted with his purest feelings, the one whom he thought had betrayed him the most, was actually innocent. And he had stood by while she was wronged. Tessa hadn't cried, but how hopeless must her heart have been in that moment...
Perhaps, by the time he failed to speak up and protect her, she had already died. Damn it! She deserved so much better!
Tyrion's will to live had never been stronger. He had to get out! He had to survive! He was going to drag them all to hell. You all call me the little devil, don't you? Well, let me be the little devil and do what devils do...
---
"Thud!"
After Jaime left, Jimmy jumped in, clad in deep blue armor, with a cloud of mist hanging from his waist.
"That bitch couldn't even wait for one more day to kill me?" Tyrion heard the noise and spoke without even looking up.
"Tyrion, I suggest you look up when you speak after all, you won't have much time to look up at anything if you keep going this way," Jimmy said, leaning against the wall.
"Who are you? What do you want? Who sent you?" Tyrion asked when he saw Jimmy.
"Me? Ha! I'm sure you can guess by this armor. As for who sent me... The God! The God of Bugs! Let's go! I know the secret passage!"
The Red Keep basement, huh? This place is even deeper than where I saved Old Wolf last time!
Jimmy drew his sword and sliced the door lock open in a single motion, sheathing the blade afterward.
"Let's go, Tyrion!"
Bending down, Jimmy grabbed Tyrion and pulled him through the low, narrow passage. Suddenly, Jimmy accelerated, throwing a punch...
"Who?" Tyrion looked up to see someone dressed in silk, holding a torch.
Jaime!
Tyrion's expression was complicated as he looked at Jaime lying on the ground. He muttered to himself, "What is he doing here?"
Jimmy shrugged, "Maybe he's like me, here to save you. If anyone in all of Lannister doesn't want you dead, it's probably him!"
"Yeah... Can you give me a moment?" Tyrion lifted his head, his emotions hardening into something much darker than revenge. Flames of vengeance flickered in his eyes.
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