Post by shymaid on Nov 16, 2018 9:24:56 GMT
Glinting gold in the lamplight,
the whiskers made him look like some great yellow beast,
magnificent even in chains.
the whiskers made him look like some great yellow beast,
magnificent even in chains.
During a skim of this scene, this description really stood out to me. A glimpse of the real state of Jaime Lannister. As the mind works in mysterious ways, reading in a rather detached ways had my mind seeing many things I had not noticed consciously before. I got the impression, but the imagery here is more striking than I first noticed! In this thread I will keep it to Jaime alone, a hard task to be sure!
Now, this chapter is from the POV of Catelyn, so it can be hard to see what Jaime himself is feeling, and thinking, and experiencing. This derived from the question if Jaime's time in darkness changed him or not. I think it did, and here I will try to make prove it. Or at the very least make a good case for this claim. So are there any hints that can tell us that something is happening deep within Jaime? Well, yes. Many and more clues are to be found, I think!
Fair warning, I will go over the same parts in this scene several times, as there are several ways to look at them. Bare with me, if you please.
I will start with a quote from the old wise man in most of this story: Aemon Targaryen (RIP).
In the black of night a man asks all the questions he dare not ask by daylight.
Samwell III, Feast
Samwell III, Feast
As it happens, Catelyn notes the state of day and night passing in a dungeon in this very chapter.
"The dungeons are windowless. One hour is much like another down there, and for me, all hours are midnight."
As Jaime is held in darkness down in the dungeon, for him the hour is always in the black of night.
So what clues are to be found in the scene with Catelyn and Jaime? Hold your nose, and let's dive into this!
Catelyn shouldered aside the heavy wood-and-iron door and stepped into foul darkness. This was the bowels of Riverrun, and smelled the part. Old straw crackled underfoot. The walls were discolored with patches of nitre. Through the stone, she could hear the faint rush of the Tumblestone. The lamplight revealed a pail overflowing with feces in one corner and a huddled shape in another. The flagon of wine stood beside the door, untouched. So much for that ploy. I ought to be thankful that the gaoler did not drink it himself, I suppose.
This is our first view of where Jaime has been held for some time, and the imagery is interesting. He is basically being held in the bowels, and what are those for? Well, separating waste and unwanted parts from what the body needs. This is further amplified with the overflowing bucket and the foul smell. Metaphorically, to me this is a picture of Jaime being saturated in his own waste from his past. Indeed, for a real change to take place, one have to own up to one's past, shit and all. I find it interesting that Jaime has huddled himself away from his bucket. That is natural of course, considering it's content, but imagery wise it's quite revealing I think. The bucket is in one corner, and he in another. That makes me think of a boxing match – one fighter in one corner, and the opponent in the other. Like we see here.
But can that really tell us that he's fighting his inner demons? Actually I think we can, as later in the chapter we get this:
"If you lie to me, this session is at an end." Catelyn held out her hands, to show him her fingers and palms. "The man who came to slit Bran's throat gave me these scars. You swear you had no part in sending him?"
"On my honor as a Lannister."
"Your honor as a Lannister is worth less than this." She kicked over the waste pail. Foul-smelling brown ooze crept across the floor of the cell, soaking into the straw.
Jaime Lannister backed away from the spill as far as his chains would allow. "I may indeed have shit for honor, I won't deny it, but I have never yet hired anyone to do my killing. Believe what you will, Lady Stark, but if I had wanted your Bran dead I would have slain him myself."
"On my honor as a Lannister."
"Your honor as a Lannister is worth less than this." She kicked over the waste pail. Foul-smelling brown ooze crept across the floor of the cell, soaking into the straw.
Jaime Lannister backed away from the spill as far as his chains would allow. "I may indeed have shit for honor, I won't deny it, but I have never yet hired anyone to do my killing. Believe what you will, Lady Stark, but if I had wanted your Bran dead I would have slain him myself."
Here his bucket of shit is compared to his honor, something that he does not deny. On the contrary, he confirms the assosiation. And tries to get as far away from the spill as he can – as far away from his darkest secrets as he can.
In his later chapters we learn some of those things, and see how he tries to change his path. Be more like Ser Arthur Dayne instead of the Smiling Knight. And in one of thos chapters, we see what Jaime himself ties to the pails in the bowels of Riverrun. From Jaime VI in Feast, and his parlay with the Blackfish:
"I assume you have returned to fulfill the oaths you swore my niece," Ser Brynden said. "As I recall, you promised
Catelyn her daughters in return for your freedom." His mouth tightened. "Yet I do not see the girls. Where are they?"
Must he make me say it? "I do not have them."
"Pity. Do you wish to resume your captivity? Your old cell is still available. We have put fresh rushes on the floor."
And a nice new pail for me to shit in, I don't doubt. "That was thoughtful of you, ser, but I fear I must decline. I prefer the comforts of my pavilion."
Catelyn her daughters in return for your freedom." His mouth tightened. "Yet I do not see the girls. Where are they?"
Must he make me say it? "I do not have them."
"Pity. Do you wish to resume your captivity? Your old cell is still available. We have put fresh rushes on the floor."
And a nice new pail for me to shit in, I don't doubt. "That was thoughtful of you, ser, but I fear I must decline. I prefer the comforts of my pavilion."
"A siege is deadly dull. I wanted to see this stump of yours and hear whatever excuses you cared to offer up for your latest enormities. They were feebler than I'd hoped. You always disappoint, Kingslayer." The Blackfish wheeled his mare and trotted back toward Riverrun. The portcullis descended with a rush, its iron spikes biting deep into the muddy ground.
Jaime turned Honor's head about for the long ride back to the Lannister siege lines. He could feel the eyes on him; the Tully men upon their battlements, the Freys across the river. If they are not blind, they'll all know he threw my offer in my teeth. He would need to storm the castle. Well, what's one more broken vow to the Kingslayer? Just more shit in the bucket. Jaime resolved to be the first man on the battlements. And with this golden hand of mine, most like the first to fall.
Jaime turned Honor's head about for the long ride back to the Lannister siege lines. He could feel the eyes on him; the Tully men upon their battlements, the Freys across the river. If they are not blind, they'll all know he threw my offer in my teeth. He would need to storm the castle. Well, what's one more broken vow to the Kingslayer? Just more shit in the bucket. Jaime resolved to be the first man on the battlements. And with this golden hand of mine, most like the first to fall.
I find it interesting that here his honor is questioned due to his seeming lack of keeping a vow, though this was out of his control to keep. Like before, no questions are asked to find the reason(s) why. And as the temperamental man he is, Jaime's first instinct is to break his other vow to Catelyn and taking up arms against the Tullys. A reaction I think is quite telling of his personality in general and what his state of mind has been for years and years.
Let's move over to the imagery given this scene, and I'll start with those tied to in-story culture.
"Go back to your ale and leave us," she commanded. An oil lamp hung from a hook on the low ceiling. Catelyn took it down and turned up the flame. "Brienne, see that I am not disturbed."
Nodding, Brienne took up a position just outside the cell, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword. "My lady will call if she has need of me."
Catelyn shouldered aside the heavy wood-and-iron door and stepped into foul darkness. This was the bowels of Riverrun,
and smelled the part. Old straw crackled underfoot. The walls were discolored with patches of nitre. Through the stone, she could hear the faint rush of the Tumblestone. The lamplight revealed a pail overflowing with feces in one corner and a huddled shape in another. The flagon of wine stood beside the door, untouched. So much for that ploy. I ought to be thankful that the gaoler did not drink it himself, I suppose.
Nodding, Brienne took up a position just outside the cell, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword. "My lady will call if she has need of me."
Catelyn shouldered aside the heavy wood-and-iron door and stepped into foul darkness. This was the bowels of Riverrun,
and smelled the part. Old straw crackled underfoot. The walls were discolored with patches of nitre. Through the stone, she could hear the faint rush of the Tumblestone. The lamplight revealed a pail overflowing with feces in one corner and a huddled shape in another. The flagon of wine stood beside the door, untouched. So much for that ploy. I ought to be thankful that the gaoler did not drink it himself, I suppose.
As a follower of the Seven, stranded in the North where the old gods reign, Catelyn is one of the characters most connected to the Faith of the Seven in my head. And here she takes on the imagery of one of them. From her own thoughts:
Lost and weary, Catelyn Stark gave herself over to her gods. She knelt before the Smith, who fixed things that were broken, and asked that he give her sweet Bran his protection. She went to the Maid and beseeched her to lend her courage to Arya and Sansa, to guard them in their innocence. To the Father, she prayed for justice, the strength to seek it and the wisdom to know it, and she asked the Warrior to keep Robb strong and shield him in his battles. Lastly she turned to the Crone, whose statues often showed her with a lamp in one hand. "Guide me, wise lady," she prayed. "Show me the path I must walk, and do not let me stumble in the dark places that lie ahead."
Catelyn IV, Clash
Catelyn IV, Clash
She practically inhabits the role of the Crone here. And what do we see?
Jaime Lannister had been allowed no razor since the night he was taken in the Whispering Wood, and a shaggy beard
covered his face, once so like the queen's. Glinting gold in the lamplight, the whiskers made him look like some great yellow beast, magnificent even in chains. His unwashed hair fell to his shoulders in ropes and tangles, the clothes were rotting on his body, his face was pale and wasted . . . and even so, the power and the beauty of the man were still apparent.
covered his face, once so like the queen's. Glinting gold in the lamplight, the whiskers made him look like some great yellow beast, magnificent even in chains. His unwashed hair fell to his shoulders in ropes and tangles, the clothes were rotting on his body, his face was pale and wasted . . . and even so, the power and the beauty of the man were still apparent.
Trying to highlight the important passages here failed miserably, as they are all so telling! He now has a shaggy beard; his hair is in ropes and tangles; his clothes are rotting on his body; his face is pale and wasted. In other words, his polished facade has been taken away, and we see him for what he truly is: A Lion, Chained in Darkness. In more ways than one.
Jaime raised his hands to cover his face, the chains around his wrists clanking. "Lady Stark," he said, in a voice
hoarse with disuse. "I fear I am in no condition to receive you."
"Look at me, ser."
"The light hurts my eyes. A moment, if you would." Jaime Lannister had been allowed no razor since the night he was taken in the Whispering Wood, and a shaggy beard covered his face, once so like the queen's. Glinting gold in the lamplight, the whiskers made him look like some great yellow beast, magnificent even in chains. His unwashed hair fell to his shoulders in ropes and tangles, the clothes were rotting on his body, his face was pale and wasted . . . and even so, the power and the beauty of the man were still apparent.
hoarse with disuse. "I fear I am in no condition to receive you."
"Look at me, ser."
"The light hurts my eyes. A moment, if you would." Jaime Lannister had been allowed no razor since the night he was taken in the Whispering Wood, and a shaggy beard covered his face, once so like the queen's. Glinting gold in the lamplight, the whiskers made him look like some great yellow beast, magnificent even in chains. His unwashed hair fell to his shoulders in ropes and tangles, the clothes were rotting on his body, his face was pale and wasted . . . and even so, the power and the beauty of the man were still apparent.
As Maester Aemon said, it is easier to ask the questions one has to ask in the black of night, rather than in daylight. Still, both the questions and answers has to be faced in the daylight at some point, and that can be just as hard! Many, if not most would perfer to let them lie there in the darkness. And Jaime convers his face when the light shines upon him, and so not wanting anyone to see him or his true face. The Crone, however, is unrelenting, so he has to let his eyes get used to the light and what it reveals.
The Crone demands the truth of him, and truth he gives her.
"If you lie to me, this session is at an end." Catelyn held out her hands, to show him her fingers and palms. "The man who came to slit Bran's throat gave me these scars. You swear you had no part in sending him?"
"On my honor as a Lannister."
"Your honor as a Lannister is worth less than this." She kicked over the waste pail. Foul-smelling brown ooze crept across
the floor of the cell, soaking into the straw.
Jaime Lannister backed away from the spill as far as his chains would allow. "I may indeed have shit for honor, I won't deny it, but I have never yet hired anyone to do my killing. Believe what you will, Lady Stark, but if I had wanted your Bran dead I would have slain him myself."
Gods be merciful, he's telling the truth. "If you did not send the killer, your sister did."
"On my honor as a Lannister."
"Your honor as a Lannister is worth less than this." She kicked over the waste pail. Foul-smelling brown ooze crept across
the floor of the cell, soaking into the straw.
Jaime Lannister backed away from the spill as far as his chains would allow. "I may indeed have shit for honor, I won't deny it, but I have never yet hired anyone to do my killing. Believe what you will, Lady Stark, but if I had wanted your Bran dead I would have slain him myself."
Gods be merciful, he's telling the truth. "If you did not send the killer, your sister did."
“Gods be merciful, he's telling the truth.” From all other POVs so far in the story, Jaime is acting like a piece of shit (no pun intended). Would a man like that really tell the truth, just because someone asks? From what he reveals later, in his training with Ser Illyn, would he have told the truth? Or would he just give a flippant answer and smile? Though hard to say for sure, I'm inclined to think not, and if so we already see a change here. The Crone shines a light on the path to walk, but one cannot see the path if lies and deciet blocks out the light from her lamp.
In addition, it reminds of the old saying: “The truth shall set you free” does it not?
The Crone is not the only god of the Seven Catelyn embodies here.
"I see you had no taste for the wine I sent you."
"Such sudden generosity seemed somewhat suspect."
"I can have your head off anytime I want. Why would I need to poison you?"
"Death by poison can seem natural. Harder to claim that my head simply fell off." He squinted up from the floor, his cat-green eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the light. "I'd invite you to sit, but your brother has neglected to provide me a chair."
"Such sudden generosity seemed somewhat suspect."
"I can have your head off anytime I want. Why would I need to poison you?"
"Death by poison can seem natural. Harder to claim that my head simply fell off." He squinted up from the floor, his cat-green eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the light. "I'd invite you to sit, but your brother has neglected to provide me a chair."
Threatening his life once...
Catelyn stared down at him in revulsion. Was there ever a man as beautiful or as vile as this one? "If you said that in my son's hearing, he would kill you for it."
… twice...
"Why should I tell you anything?"
"To save your life."
"You think I fear death?" That seemed to amuse him.
"You should. Your crimes will have earned you a place of torment in the deepest of the seven hells, if the gods are just."
"To save your life."
"You think I fear death?" That seemed to amuse him.
"You should. Your crimes will have earned you a place of torment in the deepest of the seven hells, if the gods are just."
… thrice... and then the connection is made. She also embodies the Stranger, the death aspect of the Seven. If we go back up a little in the text we get:
"Can you? You look terrible, I must say. Though perhaps it's just the light in here."
In Catelyn's earlier chapter, where she prays in the little sept before Renly is killed, the features of the Warrior changed in her mind with the flickering light. We always hear of Catelyn's beauty, but here she looks terrible, perhaps due to the light.
At the end of the chapter, she calls for Brienne, the Warrior Maid, and asks for her sword. As this is Catelyn's last chapter in this book, during a first read, the reader is left wondering what she wants the sword for. In this context, with all of Jaime's confessions, one could argue that she takes on the role of the Father, who judges all men (fairly, one would hope). Though these last links are on the weaker side, we do get an imagery of most of the Seven. If we take into account that Catelyn is doing this as a mother, we get the Mother as well; releasing him (showing mercy) for the sake of her children.
Moving away from the Faith of the Seven, an interesting in-story parallel is the wine. It is mentioned again and again throughout this scene. So what can that tell us?
The flagon of wine stood beside the door, untouched.
(…)
"I see you had no taste for the wine I sent you."
"Such sudden generosity seemed somewhat suspect."
"I can have your head off anytime I want. Why would I need to poison you?"
"Death by poison can seem natural. Harder to claim that my head simply fell off." He squinted up from the floor, his cat-green eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the light. "I'd invite you to sit, but your brother has neglected to provide me a chair."
(…)
"I see you had no taste for the wine I sent you."
"Such sudden generosity seemed somewhat suspect."
"I can have your head off anytime I want. Why would I need to poison you?"
"Death by poison can seem natural. Harder to claim that my head simply fell off." He squinted up from the floor, his cat-green eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the light. "I'd invite you to sit, but your brother has neglected to provide me a chair."
Curbing the temptation to dig into this thought of poison, I'll satisfy myself here to point out that it is implied that there is more to the wine than just wine. Poison is not in play here, but could this point us in the direction of some other in-story imagery? Indeed it does!
"I am strong enough to hear anything you care to say."
"As you will, then. But first, if you'd be so kind . . . the wine. My throat is raw."
Catelyn hung the lamp from the door and moved the cup and flagon closer. Jaime sloshed the wine around his mouth
before he swallowed. "Sour and vile," he said, "but it will do." He put his back to the wall, drew his knees up to his chest, and stared at her. "Your first question, Lady Catelyn?"
"As you will, then. But first, if you'd be so kind . . . the wine. My throat is raw."
Catelyn hung the lamp from the door and moved the cup and flagon closer. Jaime sloshed the wine around his mouth
before he swallowed. "Sour and vile," he said, "but it will do." He put his back to the wall, drew his knees up to his chest, and stared at her. "Your first question, Lady Catelyn?"
Lannister poured, drank, poured, and stared into his wine cup. "This wine seems to be improving as I drink it. Imagine that. I seem to remember that dagger, now that you describe it. Won it, you say? How?"
Does this remind you of something? It should!
"The trees will teach him," said Leaf. She beckoned, and another of the singers padded forward, the white-haired one that Meera had named Snowylocks. She had a weirwood bowl in her hands, carved with a dozen faces, like the ones the heart trees wore. Inside was a white paste, thick and heavy, with dark red veins running through it. "You must eat of this," said Leaf. She handed Bran a wooden spoon.
The boy looked at the bowl uncertainly. "What is it?"
"A paste of weirwood seeds."
Something about the look of it made Bran feel ill. The red veins were only weirwood sap, he supposed, but in the torchlight they looked remarkably like blood. He dipped the spoon into the paste, then hesitated. "Will this make me a greenseer?"
"Your blood makes you a greenseer," said Lord Brynden. "This will help awaken your gifts and wed you to the trees."
He ate.
It had a bitter taste, though not so bitter as acorn paste. The first spoonful was the hardest to get down. He almost retched it right back up. The second tasted better. The third was almost sweet. The rest he spooned up eagerly. Why had he thought that it was bitter? It tasted of honey, of new-fallen snow, of pepper and cinnamon and the last kiss his mother ever gave him. The empty bowl slipped from his fingers and clattered on the cavern floor. "I don't feel any different. What happens next?"
Bran III, Feast
The boy looked at the bowl uncertainly. "What is it?"
"A paste of weirwood seeds."
Something about the look of it made Bran feel ill. The red veins were only weirwood sap, he supposed, but in the torchlight they looked remarkably like blood. He dipped the spoon into the paste, then hesitated. "Will this make me a greenseer?"
"Your blood makes you a greenseer," said Lord Brynden. "This will help awaken your gifts and wed you to the trees."
He ate.
It had a bitter taste, though not so bitter as acorn paste. The first spoonful was the hardest to get down. He almost retched it right back up. The second tasted better. The third was almost sweet. The rest he spooned up eagerly. Why had he thought that it was bitter? It tasted of honey, of new-fallen snow, of pepper and cinnamon and the last kiss his mother ever gave him. The empty bowl slipped from his fingers and clattered on the cavern floor. "I don't feel any different. What happens next?"
Bran III, Feast
When they reached the door—a tall oval mouth, set in a wall fashioned in the likeness of a human face—the smallest dwarf Dany had ever seen was waiting on the threshold. He stood no higher than her knee, his faced pinched and pointed, snoutish, but he was dressed in delicate livery of purple and blue, and his tiny pink hands held a silver tray. Upon it rested a slender crystal glass filled with a thick blue liquid: shade of the evening, the wine of warlocks. "Take and drink," urged Pyat Pree.
"Will it turn my lips blue?"
"One flute will serve only to unstop your ears and dissolve the caul from off your eyes, so that you may hear and see the
truths that will be laid before you."
Dany raised the glass to her lips. The first sip tasted like ink and spoiled meat, foul, but when she swallowed it seemed to come to life within her. She could feel tendrils spreading through her chest, like fingers of fire coiling around her heart, and on her tongue was a taste like honey and anise and cream, like mother's milk and Drogo's seed, like red meat and hot blood and molten gold. It was all the tastes she had ever known, and none of them . . . and then the glass was empty.
Daenerys IV, Clash
"Will it turn my lips blue?"
"One flute will serve only to unstop your ears and dissolve the caul from off your eyes, so that you may hear and see the
truths that will be laid before you."
Dany raised the glass to her lips. The first sip tasted like ink and spoiled meat, foul, but when she swallowed it seemed to come to life within her. She could feel tendrils spreading through her chest, like fingers of fire coiling around her heart, and on her tongue was a taste like honey and anise and cream, like mother's milk and Drogo's seed, like red meat and hot blood and molten gold. It was all the tastes she had ever known, and none of them . . . and then the glass was empty.
Daenerys IV, Clash
A wine, or paste, that has to be consumed; first tasting vile then improves with intake... isn't that an interesting connection! Of course I'm not saying that the wine Jaime is drinking has the same effect that the weirwood paste or the shade of the evening. But the imagery is there. And is, to me, strengthened by Jaime being suspicious of the wine he is sent. The paste and shade both have properties that makes one able to see things one could not before; with the connection with the changing tastes I think we are supposed to think that something similar is taking place with Jaime's wine as well, in a non-literally sense.
We have one more parallell in this vein.
Silent as a shadow, Arya moved between rows of long stone benches, her sword in hand. The floor was made of stone, her feet told her; not polished marble like the floor of the Great Sept of Baelor, but something rougher. She passed some women whispering together. The air was warm and heavy, so heavy that she yawned. She could smell the candles. The scent was unfamiliar, and she put it down to some queer incense, but as she got deeper into the temple, they seemed to smell of snow and pine needles and hot stew. Good smells, Arya told herself, and felt a little braver. Brave enough to slip Needle back into its sheath.
Arya I, Feast
Arya I, Feast
Here we get a scent that changes with the time of exposure. It is not as strong as the weirwood paste or shade, but it stills her fears as it changes to familiar smells for Arya. To me this serves as a bridge of sorts between the psychotropic concoctions and the more symbolic nature of Jaime's wine.
Another imagery is tied to his chains.
"Can you? You look terrible, I must say. Though perhaps it's just the light in here." He was fettered at wrist and ankle, each cuff chained to the others, so he could neither stand nor lie comfortably. The ankle chains were bolted to the wall. "Are my bracelets heavy enough for you, or did you come to add a few more? I'll rattle them prettily if you like."
"Only so long as I was wearing these." Jaime Lannister rattled his chains at her. "We both know the boy is afraid to face me in single combat."
His chains chinked softly. "I seldom fling children from towers to improve their health. Yes, I meant for him to die."
Her hand was at the door pull when he said, "Lady Stark." She turned, waited. "Things go to rust in this damp," Jaime went on. "Even a man's courtesies. Stay, and you shall have your answers . . . for a price."
The rattling of his chains makes me think of the Heddle inn, that for a time had that huge dragon sign outside that was clanking in the wind - The Clanking Dragon. That sign was thrown in the river after the Blackfyre, and turned up at the Quiet Isle all rusted up. Here I see Jaime as a Clanking Lion. Jaime notes that things goes to rust down in the bowels of Riverrun; mayhaps also his chains. Which begs the question, when he became a Chained Lion in the first place.
Moving over to imagery from our own world, I'll use this quote as kind of a segway:
Her hand was at the door pull when he said, "Lady Stark." She turned, waited. "Things go to rust in this damp," Jaime went on. "Even a man's courtesies. Stay, and you shall have your answers . . . for a price."
As said earlier, Catelyn embodies the Stranger here and has thrice threatened his life. As she turns to leave, Jaime relents... for a price. And this leads the mind to making a deal with the devil. Many of such tales has the deal made for riches and fame, but many is sentered around saving one's life. And Catelyn has spesifically said she wants answers in return for his life. Another aspect of making a deal with the devil is the human trying to cheat the devil of the bargain made. We see this indirectly too in Jaime's later arc, when he makes a point of his vow is taken while he's drunk and at swordpoint; not to mention that it was not his honor she trusted, but his brother's.
From the Tully- and Stoneheart view later on, he is thought to have broken his vows to Catelyn. Roose gives her the imfamous “Jaime Lannister sends his regards”. Outside Riverrun, Jaime does not have her girls, and he threatens Edmure's unborn child. As Edmure relents to this, we don't know if that was an empty threat or not. Non the less, word comes back to Stoneheart of this, and she wants to hold him acountable. Jaime made a deal with the devil, and now the reconing has come.
Lastly we get a Biblical reference here.
Catelyn shouldered aside the heavy wood-and-iron door and stepped into foul darkness. This was the bowels of Riverrun, and smelled the part. Old straw crackled underfoot. The walls were discolored with patches of nitre. Through the stone, she could hear the faint rush of the Tumblestone. The lamplight revealed a pail overflowing with feces in one corner and a huddled shape in another. The flagon of wine stood beside the door, untouched. So much for that ploy. I ought to be thankful that the gaoler did not drink it himself, I suppose.
The bowels of Riverrun. Well, Riverrun is held by the Trouts – a fish. Indeed, Tully actually means “fish” I've seen in breakdowns of names in this series. As they are now at war, the castle is surrounded by water on all sides, and the Tumblestone can be heard through the walls. So could you say that in a way, Riverrun IS a fish? If so, it invokes Jonah and the Fish – more commonly known as Jonah and the Whale.
The gist of that story is Jonah is given a command by God to go preach against the wickedness in a specific city. He doesn't want to do that, so he runs away from his task. When in his running he is on board a ship, a fierce storm blows up, and he knows it is God creating it because he ran. He tells the crew, who does all they can to keep him onboard, but in the end he is thrown into the sea to stop the storm. It works. Jonah himself are swallowed by a fish (the direct translation says only fish, while the whale is a later interpretation/embellishment) where he stays for three days and nights while repenting. Convinced that Jonah really does regret his actions, God commands the fish to spit him out. Jonah then goes to do as the Lord commanded, and saves the city.
"I loved a maid as red as autumn," Rymund sang, "with sunset in her hair."
while the people in the castle has a feast. And at the beginning of Clash, the white ravens have been sent out from the Citadel to announce the end of summer.
As in true Martin style, the parallell is not direct. Jonah was an ordinary man, and was tasked to preach against wickedness. Jaime is in the 1% of society, so not ordinary. Also he was not asked to preach against wickedness. However, the question of wickedness looms large in his arc. He goes from a very idealistic young man, who at fifteen is confronted with the harsh reality after taking the white cloak; and when he puts an end to Aerys' wickedness he is condemned. Until this point, his only sin is basically his relationship with Cersei. Afterward, he “goes to the dark side” so to speak. From here we see the gradual change in him. At first he wants to come out of the incest closet with Cersei, before gradually opening his eyes to who she truly is. Or, to give her the benefit of the doubt, the woman she has become. We see him try to find back to a better path through his idol, Ser Arthur Dayne, trying to keep his vows to Catelyn to the best of his ability, and his confessions of all his wicked acts over the years to Ser Illyn Payne. The last we see of him, is Brienne taking him to Stoneheart, to be judged. All in all, I think it's a nice and fitting parallel and imagery!
So, my conclusion is that there is much going on below the surface. While we might not see the change directly when he first enters as a POV, things might be stirring when we scratch at it a little.