For Eydis,
a dear friend who dared me to combine this two pairings in one story.


A/N: This is supposed to be set in AGOT, when the Royal Family is in Winterfell, but I've aged up Jon and Arya to fit the story. Arya is supposed to be sixteen, more or less, so Jon is about twenty-one (if we follow the canon five year gap); but you can choose whatever ages you are comfortable with.


The north's weather is extremely annoying to Jaime. The cold is bothersome and the strong winds are always messing everything. It's supposed to be summer still, autumn hasn't even been announced, yet there's snow. Because, apparently, snowfalls aren't unusual in the North, even in the bloody summer.

Stupid place, Jaime thinks whilst he leaves the cover of the Guest House and walks through the courtyard. He won't have to stand it much longer, they are leaving tomorrow after all. At least the castle is big and old enough to have places such as the abandoned keep between the north and east gate. It's next to what the people call the Broken Tower, because of the collapsed top third, and he heard is the oldest surviving part of the castle.

But Jaime doesn't care about that. All he needs to know is that the keep is abandoned and that no one will disturb him with Cersei there.

Bless drunken Robert and his ridiculous fondness of hunting. Bless his stupidity for not noticing I've been fucking his wife all this time. Mocking Robert is the only thing that makes him feel better this days. Well, that and fucking his sister, but that's something he has always done. The inner mocking of the stupid King began just a few years back. Just another mechanism to forget that the piece of shit forces him to guard his door when he's fucking his whores or when he's just plainly dishonoring Cersei in any possible way.

Jaime has grown to hate the King with a burning passion. If Cersei would let me, I'd kill him. But his sister dreams of power and she won't risk it, not yet. He shakes his head to forget about that, to neglect the doubts that sometimes wander into his mind.

His dark mood is washed away by the sight of his sister entering the keep before him. He smiles and looks around, because that's what she wants him to do, to make sure no one is looking. When he checks there's no one in sight, he walks to the keep himself and starts climbing the steps towards the room they have accorded to meet in.

When he reaches the place, he sees Cersei standing outside of the room. Hushed voices come from the inside and his sister turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow. She turns towards the wall again and he notices she's seeing the inside of the room through the cracks of the old stones. His curiosity is peaked and he approaches to see as well. If it wasn't interesting, his sister would've turned around as she noticed people inside, but she has stayed for some reason.

He puts his hand on Cersei's shoulder and leans in to look. What he sees surprises him deeply.

A young girl and a young man stand together, arms around each other. They are whispering things, voices thick with an emotion Jaime understands too well. The girl is smiling leisurely, her face aimed the opposite way from the man's, her neck arched in an offering.

Jaime can see her face and he recognizes her immediately. She's the Stark girl, the youngest, the one Tyrion called interesting. Interesting indeed, he thinks as he watches how she sighs happily at the man's kisses on her neck.

"Jon," she whispers hoarsely, her voice seductive. Oh, even more interesting. Jaime knows that Eddard's bastard's name is Jon, and he knows that the boy has dark hair like the one in front of him. Tyrion has called him interesting as well. How is that my brother is always right?

"Yes, sweet sister?" the boy answers and Cersei turns to look at Jaime again, her eyebrow still raised. He sees the calculating glint in her eyes, the wheels turning in her head. Poor young lovers, he thinks. This information is useful for her sister, specially because of her reluctance to let Eddard Stark travel south. She can use this information to blackmail them into finding a way to force the Stark Lord to stay in Winterfell. Jaime doesn't know how, but Cersei will try everything to find a way. Poor star-crossed young lovers.

His eyes travel back to said lovers in the room, oblivious to the eyes on them. They are kissing now, the girl's arms around his neck and the bastard takes her in his arms and softly sits her on an old piece of furniture against the wall of the room. She seeks support on the wood, her hand grabbing the edge. It looks like an old desk.

The girl is a pretty thing. Not as beautiful as Cersei, of course, but pretty nonetheless, in an unorthodox way. Her long face is unusual and her eyes are exotic, her hair is wild and her smile is breathtaking. Jaime smiles. Pretty sisters are a man's undoing.

Soon hands start fondling around, fingers undoing laces and pushing cloth items out of the way. Jaime sees how Cersei is shaking her head disbelievingly and he shares the feeling. Who would've thought? They are not the only ones among the highborn it seems. The boy may be a bastard, but the girl is a trueborn and daughter of a Stark no less.

Her skirts are now up to her waist and when the bastard positions himself between her legs, the girl smiles.

"I apologize for every time I spoke ill about dresses. They grant such easy access," the boy is too busy kissing her neck to answer but hums instead, agreeing. The girl bites her lip as he pushes inside of her and starts rolling her hips in time with his movements. He captures her mouth once more to silence her soft cries. Soon she starts trembling, the hand grabbing the edge of the old desk turning white in the knuckles as her muscles tense.

She pushes him away to gasp for air and he buries his face in her breasts instead to keep his lips on her skin; the girl tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling it gently. Jaime understands why the bastard seems so fixed with keeping his mouth on her. The girl has beautiful pale skin, tantalizing now that is flushed in the softest shade of pink thanks to her rapid pulse; blood rushing in haste in her veins.

Her legs wrap tightly around his hips and they are lost. Lost in each other, not caring about the world around them, not caring how said world would judge them if they knew. Not caring that it's supposed to be wrong, and sick, and a deadly sin.

It's odd, to be watching them, but he can't help himself. And apparently Cersei is unable to look away as well, otherwise she would've dragged him out of the keep long ago. They look so alike, the Stark siblings, the only ones of the whole bunch with the Stark looks. The same pale skin, the same grey eyes, the same bone structure and dark hair. They are like the male and female version of the same thing, two drops of water.

He wonders if that is how they look, Cersei and him, when they are fucking. And he can't help but find the two images arousing. Cersei and him must look like daylight, due to their golden hair, whereas the Stark siblings look more like a night sky; and both images in his mind melt like they are the same thing and a tang of understanding crosses his heart.

He turns to look at Cersei and when their eyes meet she pulls him firmly to get him out of the keep. They walk slowly, trying to be as silent as they can, and soon the noises from the young couple fade away.

Jaime keeps looking at his sister and she stubbornly looks ahead and he knows what her refusal to look at him means. Cersei has felt the same thing, the same pang of understanding, and she'll let this piece of information slip from her fingers. She'll let what could be an useful weapon out of her grasp in a weird compassionate gesture that it's unusual on her, because she felt the same thing Jaime did and she saw themselves in the Stark siblings, and now she relates to them. She'll keep their secret and forget their truth.

So Jaime smiles and pushes her to the cripts, making sure no one is looking at them, because the dead can't spill your secrets and closed eyes can't see the truth. He kisses her wildly once they are under the cover of darkness. The same passion and lust that always courses through his veins when it comes to his sister sparking alive in him and he suddenly wants to laugh.

Jon Snow, bastard son of honorable Lord Eddard Stark, must feel the same thing. Must get the same rush when he buries himself inside his sister, must feel the same jealousy I felt as his age when he thinks of his sister being married off to some worthless lord that'll never be good enough for her and must feel the same longing and the same wish to have been born a Targaryen so he could marry her himself.

And the girl, he starts laughing then, unable to stop himself. The trueborn daughter of Eddard must beg the bastard to fuck her just like Cersei has begged me. Must call him her only love and swear to every God that exists to never marry and love someone else. Must laugh at everyone's back when they talk about a woman's virtue and keeping her maidenhead intact.

And he laughs, and laughs, and laughs; Cersei trying not to laugh with him even though he can see the amused glint in her eyes as they try to keep kissing and as he tries to stop laughing. Who would've thought they would relate to the Starks in such a deep, personal level?

Who would've thought Starks and Lannisters to be so alike? All their honor means nothing, and their talks about duty are useless, because two of his offspring love each other as much as Jaime loves Cersei, and two of his offspring have broken sacred laws and thrown caution to the wind just like Cersei has done for him million of times.

When it comes to passion, it seems, it doesn't matter what family they come from or what upbringing they have lived; honor means nothing, duty means nothing and love becomes everything. Even if it's a sin, even if it's forbidden. It becomes everything.

Everything.


A/N: Reviews are highly appreciated and I would love to know what you thought of this kind of unconventional work. I hope you enjoyed it and I thank you deeply for reading.