“I don’t like this, Your Grace,” Jaime said. “I don’t like this at all.”

“Oh by all the Gods, stop being such a baby.” I gave a tug to my charger’s flanks and he took off at a trot, leaving my uncle-father behind. He’d been going on about this for a while now.

I was riding in the middle of a column of fifty men, a mixture of Baratheon and Lannisters, knights one and all, with all three of my available Kingsguard crowding around me. Jaime, Loras, and the Strongboar looked resplendent in their suits of white enamelled scaled and stark-white cloaks, the sunlight breaking into rainbows where it gleamed off their armor. I wore my own suit of black plate, with a great antlered helmet sitting on one side of my saddle and an ironwood heater shield on the other.

The kingsroad south of King’s Landing was one of the most well-traveled lanes in the Seven Kingdoms, and we’d met several travellers on their road north to the city. Most of them were coming from the Reach, with cart-fulls of grain and wagons loaded with wine and ale. They pulled to the side of the road as we rode by, bowing and kneeling when they saw my banner snapping in the wind.

As soon as we passed the intersection of the roseroad with the kingsroad, however, the traffic of travellers and merchants became a trickle; then it turned nonexistent when we came underneath the shadow of the densely wooded forest that was the kingswood.

I couldn’t help a frown from forming on my face. It seemed the banditry problem was worse than reported. Which could only mean not enough people survived their encounter with the outlaws to tell the tale.

Looking around the men I had on hand, I wondered if they would be enough. I would usually bring more guards with me, especially for something like this, but I had assigned many of my own knights and men-at-arms to patrol the streets of King’s Landing, as the coming wedding had caused an upsurge of people flocking to the city, and Tywin had been purging the gold-cloaks of their corrupt members.

My first instinct was to turn around and ride home before coming back with reinforcements, but something stopped me. I could feel Lightbringer’s hunger in the back of my mind, like a pulse of heat that spread through my body and ushered me onward. It asked to be fed. It craved to bathe in the blood of my enemies.

I thought of turning back just to be contrary, as the idea of following the wishes of a piece of fucking metal, no matter how magical it was, seemed stupid even to me; but I had my own reasons to lust after battle.

As we rode deeper into the kingswood, soldier pines and cedars and sentinel trees loomed on our flanks, boxing us on the road. The sun struggled to break through the great canopies that interlaced above us like a great blanket, dappling the ground with narrow fingers of light where it managed to find gaps in through the leaves. The air smelled of damp earth and rotten wood here, mixed with the smell of horseflesh and polished steel. In the distance, I could hear the sounds of animals skittering through the underbrush and the chirping calls of a thousand birds.

Jaime followed, coming to ride knee-to-knee with me. “Look, Tommen. I understand you want to have more experience, but—”

“But nothing. I’m the king, Jaime, and kings war,” I told him. I got where he was coming from, but having never even had normal ones, the last thing I wanted in this life was an overprotective parent. “Soon, we’ll go to Dragonstone and take the castle, and I’ve done nothing more than sparr in a courtyard with you lot, and that other… esoteric experience. I know nothing of the chaos of battle, of fighting side by side with someone, covering their flanks, with arrows flying overhead and men dying at my feet, soiling their britches.”

Jaime groaned. “Yes,” he said, “and it’s exactly because you’re the king that you don’t need to do any of that. Have someone else do it. There’s no reason why you couldn’t just send some lordling or another to clean up this poor excuse for bandits.”

“The king must lead for others to follow,” I told him.

On my other side, the Strongboar chortled. “He’s just saying this because he wants to be the only one with a Kingswood outlaw story to tell. Isn’t that right, Jaime? My uncle told us many times how you saved his life against the Brotherhood when you were barely old enough to have hair on your balls.”

At the mention of the Brotherhood, Ser Loras rode up closer to us. He’d been looking bored the whole afternoon, but the fighting against the Kingswood Brotherhood by Aerys’ men, led by Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, was the stuff of legends in the Seven Kingdoms. Every boy grew up hearing of it.

Sighing, Jaime took off his helm and wiped the sweat from his face. “Aye, it’s true. I was still a squire when Big Belly Ben almost caved Lord Sumner’s head in.”

“Did you kill him?” asked Ser Loras.

Jaime laughed, a humorless thing. “No, he escaped me soon after. He was quick for a man of his size.” He looked off to the side, a wistful look to his face. “I tried my luck against the Smiling Knight, after that, with all the cocksure arrogance of a youth whose piss was still green as grass. He was one of the most infamous of the Kingswood Brotherhood, a man with a knight’s honor but a murderer’s heart. I held my own, for a time, but it was Ser Arthur that did him in.”

“Did you see the fight, ser?” I asked.

“Aye,” he said. “And what a duel it was. Dayne swung the greatsword Dawn as easy and gracefully a water dancer fences. By the end of it, the Smiling Knight's sword had so many chinks on the steel that Ser Arthur stopped to let him fetch a new one. “It’s that white sword of yours I want,” the outlaw said when they resumed, though he was bleeding heavily by that point. “Then you shall have it, ser,” the Sword of the Morning said, before putting the madman down.”

The rest of us listened rapturously, as if standing on the edge of our seat; but Jaime kept silent after that, riding with his head down. The wind picked up, blowing on our cloaks, and only the plodding of the horses’ hooves against the beaten earth could be heard. I didn’t know if we’d simply broken him or if he was thinking of something else. Then he put heels to his horse and rode up ahead of us.

Ser Lyle made to follow him, but I cut him off and gestured to him to stay back. I wasn’t the best at all this emotional stuff, but I could tell something he’d said or remembered had affected him. He’d gone off into the brush, following the column by the side of the road.

I chased after him. “Ser Jaime.”

He turned his head, then slowed down as he saw me. “Your Grace.”

We rode beside each other for a few minutes, neither saying a thing. I’d seen the maps of this area before, and I knew that we were soon coming up to a village, not a ten minute ride away. We’d know more about these outlaws once we got there.

“You’re right, ser,” I finally said. “Coming here is stupid and impulsive, but if I had to stay in that castle one more day there’d be two kingslayers in the family, and I’m not talking about killing Stannis.”

Jaime glanced at me from the side, then let out a grim laugh. “Aye, I know the feeling.” He brought his golden hand up and waved it about; it looked dull and scraped now that it didn’t catch the sun. “But perhaps I deserved this. I grew up wanting to be Ser Arthur, but at some point I became the Smiling Knight instead.” He sighed, then aimed his horse back at the column. “You are young yet, Tommen. Make sure you don’t regret the person you are now, later on.”

I started to follow him, intent on ending with the last word; but before I could say anything else, a loud thwang echoed in the air. Then a black-shafted arrow sprouted from the throat of our lead knight; blood gushed from his mouth when he opened it to scream.

All around us, the forest came alive with shouting men, swords and axes in hand, violence and death in mind.

Jaime’s part here is present in the books, though not in the show. Which was such a disservice to his character. Besides, it is one of my favorite moments from his POV there as well.