When Orryn finally rode back into the city after months of fighting, he returned victorious. the Ironborn were routed from the North - more important, Robb Stark had not stabbed him in the back - and it seemed like the entirety of King's Landing rejoiced to see their king return.
Queen Margaery smiled widely as he rode into the courtyard, and greeted him with their baby daughter in her arms. Jocelyn Baratheon had been born only a month prior. When Jaime had returned from Riverrun it was to a court of satisfied Tyrells, and her even more satisfied father, announcing that in the short time they had together as husband and wife, Margaery had surprisingly managed to fall pregnant. That had been a shock, and Jaime had been disturbed by the thought that she was to be a grandmother aged four-and-thirty, but good news nonetheless.
The little girl was truly beautiful besides. Though Joss had her mother's brown eyes, she was big and healthy and her hair was Baratheon black. Jaime liked to think there was something of her own smile there too.
Myrcella and Arthur doted on the girl almost as much as her own mother did, and though Steffon was rather more withdrawn as ever, his eyes shone when he held the baby. The little twins couldn't care less, proclaiming Joss 'too small and boring', but Jaime hadn't really expected anything more.
She wished Helia was there to meet her niece. Leaving Riverrun had been heart-wrenching, despite the fact that her daughter seemed more assured of herself in the days after the wedding, promising Jaime that all was well and she would be fine as Lady Tully. Edmure was not the husband she wanted, but had not mistreated her; he seemed rather scared of her, in truth, for the Kingslayer's daughter had a tongue as sharp as her mother's. That seemed quite to the girl's liking, and it already seemed like she was involving herself in the running of the castle and making it known she wasn't going to be a meek little wife.
But Jaime exchanged letters with Helia at least once a fortnight, and though it was not the same as having her eldest daughter by her side, it was better than nothing. Riverrun was not a whole continent away, besides. They would visit sometime in the next year.
She herself would be a married woman by then, again, for her wedding to Prince Oberyn was fast approaching. She felt rather apathetic about the whole affair, in truth. Little would change, apart from the fact she was meant to share her bed with the man, who in all honesty was more likely to spend his nights with his paramour and whoever else they invited instead.
Jaime rather liked Ellaria Sand, besides. The woman had approached her out of her own volition one day in the practice yard, respectful but not intimidated in the least.
"My lady," She had bobbed a short curtsey. "I thought this was the best place to find you,"
"Why would you want to?" Jaime, dripping in sweat from her last match, asked curiously, though no doubt it came across as rude. "I have no interest in banning you from seeing the father of your daughters, if that's what you wished to ask,"
"I wasn't going to be so direct," Ellaria smiled faintly. "But essentially, yes. My thanks for making it easier,"
Since then, Jaime had found herself in the other woman's company on several occasions, leading to many shocked whispers that Prince Oberyn's future wife got strangely well with his mistress. Not that she cared what they said; if she had paid mind to all the whispers about her, she would have followed Ashara off the battlements.
She did not wear white on her second wedding day, for she was hardly a maid and everyone would have laughed her out of the sept if she dressed like one. Instead, Jaime wore gold, and looked magnificent if she said so herself.
She had gained back most of the weight and muscle that had been lost during her imprisonment, and subsequent traumatic journey across the Riverlands, and looked much younger and less pinched for it. Her hair had grown out somewhat, though she decided she liked the curls to sit at her shoulders and kept cutting it scandalously short. Short hair was hardly the worst thing people had against her.
And no one could tell she was missing one of her breasts under that beautiful gown.
It was obvious that Oberyn Martell found her attractive even if he had little interest in marriage. Though his good humour may only have been due to the fact Lord Tywin - in typically Lannister fashion - had presented him with the heads of Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch during the wedding breakfast. Likely he wanted her father's head in the chest alongside theirs, but it was better than nothing, and was at least (almost) a public admittance that Tywin Lannister had wronged his family.
The ceremony itself was... odd. It was strange seeing the Red Viper be married at all, let alone being the one to marry him. There had been discussions of a betrothal between the two of them, decades ago, but her father had flatly refused the match despite Oberyn's mother's friendship with her own, who had just passed away. Yet now it had come round full circle.
It was also strange being pronounced Lady Jaime Martell, though at least she was not to be called Princess, for that would simply be absurd. Three names she had borne, now; Lannister, Baratheon, Martell. Perhaps she should slip some sweetsleep into her new husband's wine and marry Willas Tyrell as well, so she could add another great house to her collection.
The wedding feast was not a terrible affair in truth. Oberyn was not bad company when one was forced to sit next to him for an extended amount of time, and she could see them becoming friends, at least. He shared her rather dark and caustic sense of humour, and had plenty of fascinating stories about his time travelling in Essos as a sellsword. He seemed equally as interested in what she had to say, which was surprising, asking about how she had learned to fight so well, her time as a Stark captive, even how she had ended up killing Aerys.
Of course, she didn't spill her heart out like she had to Brien in the baths at Harrenhal, not being delirious with fever. But it was more than most people had asked her before.
"I was told you want no bedding ceremony," He remarked to her rather late in the evening. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be one to be shy and modest," It was more a jape than a complaint.
Jaime had indeed requested not to be stripped naked in front of the entire court, for a multitude of reasons, not least because she was over thirty and a good number of her children were present. Her father had immediately agreed the moment she mentioned her missing breast, and would see it enforced alongside Orryn.
"I have scars so ugly that the men will faint to see them," She replied, not mincing her words.
Prince Oberyn looked rather amused by that.
"I'm sure a few stretch marks will not be remarked upon. You have had eight children, after all - it would be stranger if you were perfectly smooth," He thinks I'm joking.
"Well I'm sure you'll be able to judge for yourself later," Her tone was not provocative in any way, more matter of fact. If the nasty shock of discovering her lack of a breast prevented him from lying with her, then so be it. He was an attractive man and a very publicly skilled lover, so consummating the marriage would hardly be an ordeal, but she truly cared little either way.
Some of the rowdier lords started to call for the bedding nonetheless later on in the night, and were quickly silenced by Orryn's command and some sharp looks from her father, but Jaime took that as a signal to get to her feet anyway.
"I'm going to bed. You can come with me if you want," She said to her new husband. "Or stay here. It doesn't matter to me," She smirked faintly, her tone turning vaguely suggestive. "We can sleep in separate beds, if you wish,"
Oberyn got to his feet in one smooth motion.
"You might be a Lannister, whom I'm obligated to despise on principle, my lady," He said dryly. "But you are hardly hard on the eyes,"
She smiled sharply.
"I see how you sired eight bastard daughters, with those flowery words,"
He laughed at that.
"I suppose over a decade of marriage to Stannis Baratheon left you sorely wanting for flowery words," He said as they slipped out of the hall, arm in arm; she thought that was for appearance's sake, though neither let go once they were alone. "Or did your brother - " He broke off at her raised eyebrow, smirking. "Apologies," He didn't sound very sincere, obviously doing it to get a rise out of her. "I should not pay mind to such filthy rumours,"
"Cersen was more likely to call me a pitiful, empty-headed whore than compliment me," Jaime said, not dancing around the subject. She was done with pretending, particularly to someone who so obviously knew the truth. "And when he did, it was as though he was talking to his own reflection,"
Instead of laughing as she'd expected, the prince appraised her.
"You don't look as alike as people say," He said. "Queen Margaery and Loras Tyrell look more similar than you and your twin do, though that may be because Ser Loras looks half a girl himself," The admiring note in his tone was very obvious. Gods, he'd fuck the Knight of Flowers if he had half the chance... unfortunately the boy's still pining after Renly. "Though it is a shame, in a way, that you and your brother are not so close anymore,"
There was a pause where she fully processed what he'd said and gave him a very odd look.
"I believe you're the only person to have ever said that,"
"Probably," There was a rather wicked glint in his eye. "I'm sure laying with you will be a delight, though bedding both of Tywin's golden twins, well..."
She couldn't help herself. Jaime laughed loudly.
"You couldn't find a better way to spite my father than turning his precious heir into a sword-swallower,"
"That's part of the appeal," He shrugged quite honestly, equally amused.
"Well you're more than welcome to try and bed my brother," She snorted. "Though I shan't be joining you," She recalled the last time she and Cersen had been alone, and felt a shadow cross her face. "I'd rather lay with Ilyn Payne,"
"Yes, I did wonder why Tywin Lannister sent his son home," Oberyn said lightly, but rather too knowingly, and Jaime knew she'd said too much. "And what had him so disturbed for the next few days. I'd hoped that was old age senility setting in, but unfortunately he recovered,"
"Disturbed," She chuckled darkly. "I should hope so. He didn't even believe it when I showed him the bruises,"
"A pleasant conversation that was, I'm sure,"
"One of the worst I've ever had,"
They fell silent as they reached Jaime's chambers, and she pushed open the door, stepping inside. The knot in her stomach, which had been there since that morning, was the tightest it had been yet.
"Before anything," She said, awaiting the look of disgust though knowing it would be infinitely better to see it now whilst she had her gown on. "I'm sure you heard of my mistreatment at the hands of those sellswords in the Riverlands, and rejoiced in my father's displeasure," He smiled faintly, and she took a breath, just getting it over with. "They cut off my breast. The scar truly is hideous and people really would faint to see it, hence the lack of a bedding ceremony,"
Slowly his smile dropped, and he said nothing.
"If it offends you," Her lip curled. "I can keep my dress on,"
"Does it still pain you?" Oberyn asked instead.
"Sometimes," She admitted after a moment's hesitation, instead of the acidic comment that was on her lips. "Not nearly as much as before,"
"Then we'll be careful," He said, and that was all.
As it turned out, Oberyn Martell was exceedingly good in bed.
Cersen had known her inside out, as she had him, but was often selfish, and only gave so she would give him something in return. Not to mention there was always a rushed, unpleasant undertone to their time together, the fear of being caught, and his treatment of her.
Stannis had improved in the many years they were married, though it was often down to her to take the lead, and he was hardly one of great passion or romance. Why did thinking of him make her stomach clench? Guilt, perhaps. Or maybe she missed his stern presence. He wasn't much fun, but she had certainly seen the best side of him out of anyone, and he had made her laugh, unintentionally or otherwise.
Best not think of her first husband or her twin brother now, the night of her second wedding.
Though there was also Brien, who again had improved in the time they had together but was after all only twenty and though she did care for him, she often felt he treated her far too well, like she was something precious and unspoiled. Not that that was a bad thing, it just unnerved her slightly, and made her realise just how unworthy of him she was.
Oberyn had, however, had lain with likely at least a hundred women in his time, and a good numebr of men too. Jaime had never known such sounds could be coaxed from her.
They didn't lay together for a while after their wedding night, but Jaime found herself becoming fairly good friends not only with her new husband, but also with his mistress, beyond mere civility.
What an odd situation, people at court laughed, but she cared little and neither did they. Despite the fact she had to reject the advances of the other woman a couple of times, Ellaria got the hint very quickly (or perhaps Jaime was just used to the persistent attentions of men) and from then on was a surprisingly good friend.
"Do you truly not care that he sleeps beside his paramour every night?" Tyrion asked curiously when they were drunk together one evening, in her empty chambers.
"And whoever else they let into their bed?" She snorted, and her brother grinned. "I truly couldn't care less,"
"Still," Her brother took another gulp of wine. "To invite their bastard daughters to court..." He toasted her, then smiled wickedly. "It's the first time you've been considered the perfect wife by half the men in court, to be so accepting of your husband's vices,"
Jaime grinned. After learning that Ellaria was missing her children, she had insisted that the girls be brought to King's Landing. Lord Tywin was not pleased when he found out but Orryn did not mind so long as Jaime assured her son she was happy with it.
"He's more a friend than a husband - why should I care who he sleeps with?"
"I'm glad you did not say he's more like a brother. For you, that's not so mutually exclusive,"
She had laughed at that, though threw her empty metal goblet at the snickering and unapologetic dwarf all the same.
Four of the Sand Snakes arrived a month later. The eldest, Elia, was a wild and rather haughty girl of thirteen, who Ellaria swore was half-horse from how much she enjoyed riding. She had a remarkable talent with the lance, and spent many a morning jousting at tilts, to the delight of many squires and the disapproval of many older knights. She had little time for her father's 'Lannister bride', until she Jaime spar with Ser Aredan, knock him into the dirt then make a very unladylike gesture at a catcalling knight; from then, Elia had warmed up to her considerably.
The second eldest, Obella, was a warm and bubbly girl of eleven who was liked by everyone she met. She had a smart mouth on her, but was so friendly and amusing to be around that most let that go despite the fact she was a bastard.
Elia and Obella were idolised by the younger two sisters, Dorea and Loreza, and in turn idolised their elder half-sisters, often bringing them up in conversation. Dorea was eight, whilst Loreza was only six, and whilst Loreza found company with Jaime's twins and Cassana Baratheon, Dorea, interestingly, made a close friend of Steffon. Jaime was glad, as her fourth son did not have many friends, and even his bastard stepsister was better than no one.
All four of the younger Sand Snakes had warmed up enough to Jaime that by the time she discovered she was with child, they all seemed delighted. Unlike Jaime herself, whose first thought had been not again.
She had known before the maester had told her, really, though it was nice to cling to the hope that all would be well and she didn't have another child growing inside her.
Oberyn had simply smirked when she told him, saying that his brother would be pleased at least one of his nieces was trueborn. Jaime didn't have his absolute faith that the child would be a girl, and she herself was hoping for a boy. Already her father was making mentions of betrothing Myrcella and Roanna, whilst Argella was set to marry the sickly Arryn boy when she turned fourteen, for fear of her future husband dying without an heir.
Though Steffon was due to leave for fostering in the Stormlands in the next couple of months, so perhaps boys were no better.
However, her husband was right in the end. Six months after the maester told her she was with child for the seventh time, Jaime birthed a daughter, with dark skin a shade lighter than her father's, and his black hair with a widow's peak. But her hair curled like her mother's, and her eyes were a very striking green.
"Are you only capable of siring daughters?" Tyrion asked Oberyn idly as her brother sat on the end of her bed, the baby girl in his arms. Jaime was propped up on pillows, glad to hand over the child to someone else for a minute.
Ellaria was there too, with her children, all there to meet their younger half-sister. Myrcella was also present, and the little twins; even Helia had visited from Riverrun, being present for the last month of her mother's pregnancy. Orryn had been in to see his new sister earlier but had been called away to the small council, whilst Arthur and Steffon were in the Stormlands.
"Apparently," He said. "That's nine of them, so far,"
"And the first to be legitimate," Tyrion smirked.
"What can I say," Oberyn drawled. "I cannot compare to my virtuous wife, who has birthed nine perfectly trueborn children now,"
Myrcella flushed slightly at that.
"And with luck, eight of them will make it past their sixteenth birthday," She cut in with a sharp smile at him, and he chuckled slightly, shaking his head in apology.
"What's her name?" Dorea Sand asked.
"She hasn't got one yet, sweetling," Ellaria said gently.
"Why?" The girl demanded, and her father laughed.
"Good question. What should her name be?" He turned to Jaime.
"I suppose Cersei is out of the question?"
It was a joke of course, perhaps in bad taste. Tyrion laughed, at least, thoguh Helia made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, whilst the little twins both pulled similarly repulsed faces and Myrcella grimaced.
"If you truly wish to call her that, I would take the child away from you and question your sanity," Oberyn said flatly.
She snorted; no doubt Cersen would think the girl his, somehow, if she named it after him, despite her dark complexion.
"I think Tyria is appropriate," Her brother said, then shot Oberyn a sly look. "Or perhaps Tywina,"
"Careful, dwarf," The Red Viper warned, though without any real bite to his tone.
"I don't know any Martell names, in truth," Jaime said, looking to the four Sand Snakes. "You decide," She immediately regretted it.
"Meria!" Little Loreza declared.
"What, after the toad lady?" Obella scoffed. "Deria is much better,"
"Because that's so different,"
"Lucinda?" Elia suggested.
"That's an ugly name," She was immediately shut down by her sisters.
"Seven hells," Tyrion muttered, locking eyes with Jaime in mutual despair.
"Mara?"
"That's boring - I like Aliandra,"
"That's pretentious,"
"It's pretty! You don't even know what pretentious means,"
"Obella," Suggested Obella. "A fine name,"
"That's not fair - it should be Dorea,"
"No, Loreza!"
"Roanna," Her own daughter joined in, and woe betide them all at that point. "Roanna, Roanna, Roanna," She paused. "Or Argella, if you have to,"
Though the younger Sand Snakes were formidable, Jaime knew the Baratheon twins gave them a run for their money. It had been quite good for Argella and Roanne to have Loreza around, as she wasn't nearly so biddable as Cassana and knocked some of their corners off.
"Joffrina," Helia suggested innocently, earning her a cuff on the head from her mother, grown woman or not, as Myrcella and Tyrion both laughed.
"Corianne?" Elia suggested.
"I like that," Jaime said. The others all stopped squabbling, though Argella was heard muttering 'but that's a stupid name'.
"Corianne?" Oberyn considered. "Yes, I suppose it suits her,"
Jaime resigned to take moon tea from that day forward. Eight children were more than enough to be dealing with. After all the trauma and damage her body had suffered, she had been honestly surprised to have gotten pregnant again at all, and wasn't going to take that risk again. Mothers were more likely to die in childbirth as they got older, after all. She was still reckless as she had been her whole life, but not that stupid.
Corianne was a rather easy baby, though, all things considered. Certainly less of a handful than the twins had been. She was easily soothed, easily amused and easy to feed (not that Jaime did any of that - even before she only had one breast, she still had a wetnurse for her children).
Not to mention that Oberyn was a far more attentive father than she had expected. Stannis had not had much to do with the children until they learned to walk and talk, and even then... Whilst Cersen had been attentive to Joffrey in all the wrong ways. But somehow the Red Viper enjoyed talking with his daughter like she was an adult, taking her out for walks balanced on his hip, even going riding with the baby strapped to his chest.
Ellaria had laughed at Jaime's bemusement, saying he had been like that with the others too. Her own daughters, at least. The older ones - Obara, Nymeria, Tyene and Sarella - he had only known when they were children, not babies.
When Corianne was a year old, they had all been supposed to travel to Sunspear so that Prince Doran could meet his niece - and goodsister - but those plans had been curtailed at the news from the west, of Uncle Kevan's death.
Jaime was under no impression that the seemingly hale and hearty man had just dropped dead of his own accord, and neither was Tyrion. This reeked of Cersen's poison, and honestly she was surprised it had taken him so long to do something so foolish and cruel. No doubt her twin thought he was being cunning and clever. But Lord Tywin suspected something too, he must, having had his rose-tinted view of his eldest son shattered completely before he all but banished him to Casterly Rock. He would not forgive the death of his beloved brother, his oldest and most loyal ally, so easily.
Kevan had ruled at Casterly Rock these past couple of years in truth, everyone knew that. Neither their father nor uncle trusted Cersen with any kind of real power, despite the fact he was the heir. That was obviously why he was dead now.
Jaime rode west with her father and brother whilst her husband and baby daughter went south to Sunspear. None of her children were coming, for that matter. It was necessary to ride as fast as possible, in order to be there for the funeral in under ten days, and the girls and Steffon would likely be a hindrance, having no particular love for riding or sleeping rough. Arthur was too far away and Orryn too caught up with matters of state.
As the shadow of Casterly Rock approached in the distance, dominating the horizon, her father turned to her where she rode beside him.
"Do not be alone with your brother," His voice was as cold as ever, but she was surprised he bothered to acknowledge it regardless. Jaime was not looking forward to seeing her twin again, to put it lightly, but wished to pay her respects to her uncle and did not wish for Cersen to have any kind of hold over her.
She just nodded in response to her father.
"You hear that, Jaime?" Tyrion muttered as they fell back slightly, out of their father's earshot. "You have to be careful around me - I'm too dangerous to be alone with,"
That lightened her mood slightly, and she stifled a laugh, lest their father think they were laughing at him. Lord Tywin despised laughter.
Being back at Casterly Rock was pleasant, as always, despite the circumstances. It was still her home, even after all this time at Storm's End and the Red Keep. The castle was large enough that she only had to see Cersen at meals, which was more a chance to demonstrate how much she despised him if nothing else, with sharp words and mocking comments, Tyrion more than happy to join in.
Cersen had never been publically subject to the sheer disdain and cutting words that she bestowed on many others - her anger, perhaps, but that was usually so full of passion there was no doubt she didn't care for him - and it was amusing to watch his fury.
He knew he was on thin ice with regard to Kevan's murder, so could not even respond how he wanted to. Father knew what he had done, but was obviously waiting for some kind of proof. Cersen doubtless thought he had everyone fooled, but was on his best behaviour regardless. She knew he was furious with her, though. For daring to go to Father, for revealing the truth of their relationship, for bringing Father's fury onto him and being banished from the Red Keep.
He managed to corner her eventually.
It was Jaime's fault, really. She hadn't been able to sleep - nor had she slept well the past few days - and one night thought it would be fine to taking a walk through her own home alone. No one should be awake aside from the guards, and they were stationed at every important door, and patrolling the halls.
She had wandered aimlessly through the halls she had spent every day in as a child. None of the guards stopped her, though many inquired as to what she was doing up so late, and did she want an escort. Misliking the questions, and wanting to be alone, she had wandered down deep into the centre of the Rock, to the Hall of Heroes, where thousands of years of valiantly-dead Lannisters lay in their tombs.
She thought she'd be alone, aside from the guards outside the door. It was only when she heard them leaving that she realised she was not. Her brother stepped around the corner and she froze for a moment. So did he; he hadn't expected to find her here. Perhaps they truly were as similar as she had once believed.
"What are you doing here?" Jaime asked coldly.
"Walking around my own castle," His lip curled. "Is that allowed? What are you doing here?"
"It's not your castle yet," She replied. "Although not for lack of trying. Are you going to kill Father now too? What about Tychus, your son?"
"I don't know what you mean, sister," He was moving towards her, no doubt thinking he sounded smooth.
"Oh just stop," She laughed at him; he hated being laughed at as much as their father. "Don't pretend you didn't kill Kevan, like you killed Robert's children, like you killed Stannis,"
"Stop pretending his death made you feel anything but relief," He tried to smile but she knew he was angry. He hadn't stopped being angry at her since... well, in a long time. "Especially not now you've got a new husband to squirm under. Is Oberyn Martell bored of your tricks yet? I hear he stills beds with his mistress and half the whores in King's Landing, boys too,"
"Probably," She shrugged. "Whereas you are forced to bed with dear, sweet, plump Lysa," She smiled as he sneered. "Or does even your wife not let you into her chambers anymore? I wouldn't have thought that would stop you. It never did before,"
"As if you didn't want it!" Cersen lost his temper. She knew she shouldn't be baiting him so, not alone like this with no guards, but Jaime had never done what was good for her, not when it was amusing and gave her such a rush. "How dare you go crying to Father of rape? You threw away all those years of me - "
"Being a loving brother?" She snorted. "If you're truly so deluded as to believe that I wanted you that night, you're as mad as Aerys Targaryen," And look what happened to him. She didn't need to voice the threat.
She knew what Cersen was going to do before he did it; he was too predictable. Jaime turned away from the blow, the back of his hand connecting with her face but her movement deflected the full force of it. She staggered anyway, making a show of falling against the nearest statue as a distraction to reach for her hidden knife. You won't touch me like that again, brother.
He grabbed her as expected, but instead of turning her around to face him, he pinned her on her front against the stone. Shit. She made the split-second decision to slash at him anyway, but he caught her hand then laughed, bending her fingers until she had to drop the blade. It clattered onto the floor, and she heard the hiss of his own dagger being drawn. Shit, shit, shit. She wasn't going to kill him, only wound him enough that she could leave feeling victorious. But she had no idea what he was going to do.
"Would you kill me, Jaime?" Cersen snarled, and she felt the point of it against her back. "Haven't you missed me, after you went crawling to Father?" His voice was cruel and cold, no trace of her loving brother there. "You filthy traitor. I could kill you right now. You've spent the time since on your back next to that Dornish bastard whore, being fucked by Oberyn Martell before he moves onto her, and I bet you were thinking of me the whole time,"
Jaime laughed derisively at that, not even stopping when she felt the sting of cold steel as it pierced her skin slightly.
"If you want to kill me, then let me go and I'll duel you, brother," She said, perhaps unwisely. "Knife or sword, you know who would win,"
"And why would I do that?" She could hear his lip curl even if she couldn't hear it. "No matter how much you prance around with a sword, I am still strong enough to hold you here,"
"I'll give you that," She replied. "If you do plan to kill me, though, how are you going to explain that to Father? I know you've always been his golden heir, but he likes your son a lot more than he likes you. He dreads the day you become Lord of Casterly Rock - he'll hold on as long as he can to ensure that you die before him and Tychus is lord instead of you. Why, I think Father even values Tyrion more than he values you now. You haven't seen them at court together - he's got much more of a head for politics than you ever had, and Father's starting to realise that - "
At first, she thought he'd punched her in the back. An odd place. Why not aim for her head?
Then came the pain after the blunt force, white-hot and blinding half a second later. He stabbed her, Jaime realised, as a strangled gasp left her lips. The heat was spreading, blood running down her back.
Cersen stepped back and her legs weren't strong enough to hold her up. She felt herself falling, but surprisingly he caught her, slowly lowering them both to the floor, cradling her remarkably gently.
"I always thought we'd die together, sweet sister," He said, voice rather distant; he seemed rather shocked he'd actually done it.
Am I dying? Jaime saw the growing horror in her brother's eyes as he realised the same thing she ahd. The pain burned almost as badly as when Vargo Hoat had ordered her breast to be severed. Perhaps she was dying, but all she could do was gasp, her hands scrabbling and grasping at the floor, staring up at Cersen in disbelief.
She started to laugh, an awful, choking sound that pained her greatly. That truly seemed to unsettle him.
"Jaime," Her brother sounded almost imploring. "This isn't my fault. We were meant to love each other. You were meant to be my other half," He shook her slightly, and her fingers reached what they had been grasping for, closing over the handle. "Stop laughing! Say something. You've always got something to say,"
She stopped laughing. Then her brother's eyes widened. Jaime took in her own dagger, buried in Cersen's chest.
"As - we were - born," She managed to rasp out, no matter how it hurt. "Together," Because if Cersen had killed her, there was no chance he wasn't dying with her.
Her vision was starting to go dark around the edges, her head dizzy from blood loss, but she savoured the expression on his face in that moment. Pure shock, horror and pain.
"Val - valonqar," The word left his lips as barely more than a choked whisper.
She heard the people enter the room - how did they know to come here? - but focused only on her twin. Evidently she had better aim than he did, for in a matter of seconds the light had left his eyes and he went limp, falling backwards. Dying as Jaime was, she was already limp herself and fell forward - thankfully onto her stomach - to fold awkwardly on top of him.
Someone was shouting, and there were the sounds of many booted feet. Then someone was grabbing her shoulder, pulling her back up, and she gasped in pain again, vision focusing somewhat at the sharp, awful sensation. Why wasn't she dead yet? Couldn't they leave her in peace? At least let her rest, and not keep dragging her around.
"My lady," Someone kept calling, as someone else yelled for a maester. "Lady Lannister. My lady. Lady Lannister,"
She blacked out.
Jaime woke up to being carried, but was so delirious she only got brief flashes before her vision started to fade again. It was rather exhausting to keep her eyes open, confusing too. Where was she? Rather unceremoniously being dumped onto a bed - her bed? - on her front. People were fussing all around, poking and prodding at her; it was like giving birth, except she really had been stabbed.
"Jaime," The Father was greeting her. No, not The Father above but the father below, but what was he doing here, at this hour? "Jaime!"
She really must be delirious, if she was imagining this. This was perhaps the first time her father held her since she was eight. The first time she remembered hearing Tywin Lannister sound even vaguely concerned for her.
Or perhaps he just wanted her to wake up so he could brutally punish her for killing his heir.
"Father," She heard herself say, feeling an absurd stab of embarrassment for the tears running down her cheeks. "He - he stabbed me... first," Somehow, even as she lay there with a knife in her back - thankfully they'd all had the sense not to remove it yet - her words came out mocking.
He may have replied to that but she lost consciousness again.
*
Jaime awoke in a feather bed, laid out on her side and propped up with a wall of pillows. Her back hurt, and her head was heavy with milk of the poppy.
"Dear gods," She swore, fumbling to peel the swelteringly hot sheets off of her, wincing at the movement and the pounding in her head. Waking up gravely wounded happened to her far too often for her liking.
And then she remembered, and stopped dead with the shock of it. Cersei stabbed me. And I killed him.
After everything he'd said and done to her, she had been the one to kill him in the end. Part of her was silently screaming. Her twin, her other half, the boy she had grown up with and loved more fiercely than any other, was dead at her hand. She knew he had treated her terribly, and hated him, but at the same time... She had never been alive without him, even though she had lost him - or he had lost her - long ago.
Not wanting to dwell on that, she tried to recall exactly what had happened. Father had been there at one point, she remembered. Had he seen his two golden children collapsed over each other in a pool of their own blood, dying at the other's hand? No, but other people would surely describe it to him.
Tyrion was her first visitor, after all the maids and the maesters had made a fuss of her waking up. Her little brother hadn't said anything at all at first, just hugged her as best he could when she had to awkwardly sit leaning sideways against her pillows.
"I'm glad it was you that survived," He murmured into her hair. It didn't need saying, but she was glad he did regardless, as their father might be thinking differently.
"I always was better with a blade," She replied. "Cersen's a lousy aim. He hit a rib," Which was extremely painful, but better than a lung or liver.
"I went down there when they were... cleaning up," Tyrion said, taking a seat beside her bed. "You got him right in the heart,"
Jaime said nothing.
"You shouldn't feel guilty," He replied, and not with the usual mocking, hateful tone he normally reserved for speaking of their brother. Which she was grateful for. "He tried to kill you, and tormented you for years before that,"
"I know," She replied. "But he was still my twin brother. Though it's like Joff - by the end, he wasn't the same,"
Tyrion couldn't stop himself pulling a slight face at that; Cersen had been vile to him since the day he was born.
"Exactly," He said instead. "He deserved it more than you did, besides. Not saying your hands are completely clean," She smiled wryly. "But you try, at least. He was evil, Jaime, you had to have seen that,"
"Perhaps," It made sense in her head, at least. She had known it for a long time. It had just taken a while to reconcile that with her heart, and perhaps that would never happen in full. "Has Father said anything?"
"Father has shut himself away in his study, after staying at your bedside until dawn," Her brother replied. "He stayed after the maesters had gone, even when they said you would probaly live. Hardly holding your hand or anything so affectionate, just staring, though apparently before I got here, he seemed almost human,"
"I remember him saying my name," Though the memories were hazy, filled with pain and confusion. "He might even have sounded worried,"
"I'm glad I missed that," Tyrion grimaced. "Even the idea is unsettling. Though he did seem to realise his weakness by the light of day, and left. If it's any consolation, they put Cersen in the sept and he hasn't been to see him at all,"
"In the sept," Jaime did smile at that, albeit faintly. "Like Joffrey, he'll need all the prayers he can get,"
Tyrion snorted.
"I went with Tychus," He said. "Lysa and the girls didn't bother. Tychus seemed to only want to see for himself that he was really dead. I think I saw him smile,"
"Grandfather's little prodigy," Jaime rolled her eyes. "He'll make a better lord than his father, at any rate,"
"Few would be worse," Tyrion agreed. "I'd offer you some wine to toast Cersen's journey into eternal torment and despair, but you were given so much milk of the poppy last night it might just kill you,"
"I couldn't face him in the Seven Hells after that," She snorted. "I survive his blade, only to be killed by your cup of wine - that's shameful,"
Tyrion laughed, and Jaime found herself smiling. He was the best one to be keeping her company now, if there was such a person.
The official story of Cersen's death was that he had tripped and fallen down a staircase in the night, though everyone at Casterly Rock knew what really happened. Enough guards and servants had seen the bloody scene in the Hall of Heroes, seen Cersen's corpse being taken to the septa with the knife wound to his heart, seen Jaime being carried bleeding and broken up the stairs.
The true story would no doubt spread and within a month, half the kingdoms would know some garbled, exaggerated version of events at least. Not that there was much to exaggerate; the twisted truth would no doubt be worse than what anyone could come up with.
Lord Tywin did not speak to Jaime about the matter at all. Her father acted as he always had with her, though there was definitely a further detachment in his eyes now, not just with her but with everyone. Unsatisfactory though Cersen had been, he was Father's heir, part of his precious legacy, one of the last pieces of Lady Joanna left. How must it feel, to know two of your children tried to murder each other, and one of them suceeded? There was only so much a man could take, even a man like Tywin Lannister.
He did seem to throw every bit of their time spent at the Rock with Tychus, however. Unlike Cersen, the boy - young man now, she supposed - was not too arrogant to learn, and had his grandfather's collected temperament as opposed to Cersen's fire. And unlike Jaime, he was eager to be taught. The son he never had, Tyrion had smirked, and she had to agree.
It surprised her nonetheless when their father announced he would not be returning to King's Landing with them, once she was sufficiently recovered enough to travel.
"I intend to resign as Hand of the King," He had summoned her and Tyrion to his solar, and she saw her brother's eyes widen.
"Did you hit your head?"
Lord Tywin glared at him, unimpressed.
"I have achieved everything I wished to achieve there," He said. "Jaime's son is king. Orryn is married, of age, his position secure and he is well equipped as a ruler. I will remain here," She supposed that with all his brothers dead, Cersen too, the only person to make castellan would be cousin Daven or another more distant Lannister. Not that that would have stopped him returning to court, if he truly wished to.
"And who will be Hand?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "Mace Tyrell?"
"Don't be foolish," He said impatiently. "Your son has agreed to name Tyrion to the position,"
"Me?" Her brother's jaw actually dropped. "Father - what?"
Their father's eyes narrowed in irritation.
"Do you want the position, or will you continue to gawp at me?"
Tyrion closed his mouth, seeming unwilling to push his luck for the first time in his life, though Jaime knew there were a dozen sarcastic, smug quips about him being a worthy heir after all on his lips.
"Thank you, Father," Was all he said instead, biting his tongue.
The moment the door shut behind them after being dismissed, Jaime grabbed her brother and lifted him clean off the ground, spinning him around until the healing wound in her back screamed in protest.
"Father never would've given that position to Cersen," She said, grinning widely. "He's still a miserable old bastard, but at least he recognises you're capable. Orryn would rather you than him, besides,"
"He can hate me all he wants if he gives me that badge," Tyrion chuckled, though did seem genuinely pleased. "What about you? Will you stay in court?"
"I," Jaime said, feeling lighter than she had felt since she stabbed her twin brother in the heart. "Will do - and can do - whatever I like. I could join Oberyn and the girls in Sunspear. I could visit Steffon and stay with Arthur at Storm's End. I could force myself on the Tullys hospitality at Riverrun, just to piss off Edmure, or I could take myself to Dragonstone and shut myself away if I so choose," She smiled as her brother laughed at her. "But yes, I'll travel back to King's Landing with you. The girls will be back soon anyway, and all every king wants is his mother hovering around,"
*
Five years after Ser Brien of Tarth travelled north to serve as Lady Catelyn's sworn shield, Jaime watched him ride into the Red Keep. Five years older, five years wiser. Not quite as foolishly naive, but still just as noble.
His eyes kept darting to her when he presented himself to the king, and all throughout the feast later that night, held for the tourney in honour of the birth of the newest prince. Orryn's second child, and first son - a boy named Stannis - had been born two years before, and now Margaery had given him a third child, Rogar. But he didn't approach her, not until she got sick of it and went up to him, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the hall.
His noble character was proven well enough when, once they were in private, he stopped her before she could kiss him.
"Your marriage vows - "
"My husband cares not - he's encouraged me to take a lover more than once, actually," Never mind that it was his own paramour. "If he walked in on us in bed, he would ask to join rather than try to kill you,"
Brien's eyes widened at that, but when she moved to kiss him again he did not object. She wondered if he had had a woman since being with her. Unlikely. If he had met someone he liked enough to sleep with in the last five years, he would have married her.
"My father wrote to me," He told her after in her chambers, as she lay in his arms. "He says he's found a girl to marry me to - Lady Catelyn saw the letter and honourably discharged me from her service. Never mind that I'd have stayed as long as they wished,"
"Perhaps she liked you enough to not keep you as a glorified bodyguard for the rest of your life," Jaime forced herself to smile. "You'll have to marry at some point, besides. You're heir to Tarth, after all, and now's as good a time as any. Who is this girl?"
"Lady Rosina Selmy," He replied, and she felt like laughing. Of course. "Granddaughter of Ser Barristan's brother. She's sixteen. My father said though she can't be called a great beauty, she's sweet, kind, gentle, and likes to sing and sew," There was a dry but slightly sad note to his voice that reminded her a little of herself. It sounded wrong coming from him.
"My opposite in every way," She drawled, then at the dismayed look on his face, she relented. "You should marry her, Brien," She'll be better for you, in every sense.
"But Jaime, my marriage vows, I can't - " He broke off. "I could never break them. It's bad enough breaking yours,"
"I wouldn't expect you to break them," She snapped then; even now, he thought so little of her, that she'd worm into his bed and disregard his sweet little wife of brave, noble Selmy stock.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Write to me," She said then. "Whether I'm in King's Landing, Storm's End, Casterly Rock or Sunspear. I would be your friend, if nothing else,"
He nodded wordlessly, and it was a long time before he spoke again.
"Jaime... Are you happy?"
She didn't reply straight away, thinking. All her were children alive and well and largely happy themselves. Except Joffrey, but as the time since his death stretched on, she felt less guilty about being relieved for it, although the regret as to what could have been remained. She had her brother, had friends, could largely do whatever she liked. Cersen was dead, though that was bittersweet in and of itself. She had a place in King's Landing as mother of the king, or at Storm's End, or Casterly Rock.
"Yes," Jaime said eventually. "I suppose I am,"
He left a week later, for the beautiful isle of Tarth, where his relieved father would be awaiting him home after all this time, and he would wed his plain but sweet and gentle betrothed. Brien of Tarth was too good for the likes of Jaime Lannister, and she wanted it to stay that way.
*
I may do an epilogue but I think this is likely the end of this story; I'm more likely to go back and edit the earlier chapters. Sorry for the massive delay in updating; this chapter took far too long to write, and I am still not happy with it but wanted to get this fic wrapped up (hence why Daenerys, fAegon and the Others are not very present - assume they delayed a bit in this AU haha).
Thanks so much to everyone who has read, reviewed and commented on this fic. It's not perfect by any means, and just started as a fun what-if that was never going to be posted. If there are any improvements that you think would benefit the story, please let me know as that will be very helpful when I get round to editing.