A/N: Welcome to what I call post GOT S8 therapy. What a wreck.

Anyway, this is set during the events leading up to Robert's Rebellion, and eventually the whole shebang. This chapter is a flash forward. All material is inspired by George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones, the sadly departed TV show. My OC is from a minor house, but don't worry, it'll all tie in together soon. This is also a VERY long slow-burn of Jaime Lannister/OC. When I say long, I mean, long. We'll have to go through some other relationships first, but I'll try to make it pleasant, because I love these other relationships, too.

Enjoy.

Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty. What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms... or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.

Aemon Targaryen

Jaime

282 AC, King's Landing

The moon hung in the black canvas overhead, the only light in the otherwise pitch black of one of the Red Keep's many gardens. Moonbeams streamed into the hallway Jaime Lannister stood now, waiting. The windows were blocked with huge, flowering bushes and twisting vines the wrapped around stone but moonlight sneaked between branches and caught the silver of his blade.

"Ser Jaime, are you here?"

Instantly, a surge of relief flooded him and he raised his head from where his fingers had been drumming along the stone sill. A hand on the hilt of his sword, he pulled away from the sill for the one next over, vaulting the low wall and into the bushes. A lone woman stood on the stone walkway, turning with a sense of nerves. Her fingers weaved together but her face was schooled strong.

"Cerella," Jaime called, hand still on his sword. "Are you alone?"

"No, m'lord. I brought who you asked." With a nod in her direction, Cerella went to the one of the arches of the main entrance, speaking in soft tones before bringing out another who followed. A hood was pulled over their head, hiding their features and a cloak hid what was in their arms. Jaime immediately went to her. He took hold of her elbows gently, forcing grey to flash silver as they caught the moonglow.

"Are you alright? Did anyone hurt you?"

"No." It was a foolish question, Jaime knew, but he needed to ask for his own mind. Her mouth was pressed into a firm line but her eyes were wide, revealing the frantic whirlwind in her heart. Gesturing for her and Cerella to follow, he led them through the halls, not daring to light a torch to help the way. But Jaime had traced this path too many times to count and he kept a hand firm around the woman's wrist. Her quivering breath echoed in his ears and breathed down his neck.

Sweat began to gather underneath his jerkin. If he were found, it'd be the end. For them, for the Lannisters, but he didn't think about that. Instead, he focused on running to the stables, the two trailing behind him. The guards were in the midst of changing shifts, just as he had planned.

"It's safe," he whispered and the hooded one reached to take his hand. They edged around the yard to the stables, clinging to the shadows. A party of men crashed through the doors, laughing raucously and the hand around his tightened as Cerella gasped sharply. Jaime knew who they were — the men who disposed of the burnt bodies — but he had no intention of letting them introduce themselves.

"Rhaenys is the second to the right," she hissed in her ear and Jaime nodded as they reached the stables. "I'll go."

"Alysanne—"

"I'll be fine," she whispered, squeezing his hand. "Make sure Cerella stays safe." Nodding, he saw her kiss the bundle on her chest just as she slipped the other to him. Crouched, she walked around the corner and Jaime pressed his ear against the wood. The deep snores of the stable hands echoed in the wood. He heard Alysanne's gentle whisper and the stall unlocking before she appeared again, leading a tacked black mare and a dusty stallion. The two left cover, and Jaime took hold of the leads. The bundle was beginning to make him uneasy. He wasn't used to this and no doubt Alysanne didn't want to see it in his arms.

Behind the stables, Jaime hushed the soft nicker the mare gave and nodded to Cerella.

They went ahead, sticking to the brush. Their movements too slow, Jaime sucked in a sharp breath when his vest snagged on a branch. Quick hands freed him and they continued on.

Only two guards stood at the entrance while the rest patrolled the castle walls. If they timed this wrong, it was crossbow bolts to the heart and steel to the stomach. Turning around, he met the eyes of Cerella. The handmaiden looked pale and green, but her nerves hardened when he pressed the knife into her hand.

"Like I said," he murmured, gesturing to the spot on his neck. Again, she nodded, too nauseous to speak. "Go. You'll know the signal." She nodded to herself once more. The handmaiden snuck all the way around, cutting a corner near the entrance from where they came from and onto the other side of the entrance.

"Go."

He pushed through the brush, pulling out the dagger in his belt. The guard stood right before him and he craned his neck. He gave no thought to the treason he was committing. This was his one right to even gain the chance to fix the wrongs he'd done.

Where are you, Cerella? As if on cue, the handmaid's gown caught the torchlight, dark with mud. He met her eyes, nodded and sprung. Catching the guard, he wrapped an arm around the man's mouth and stabbed just as she did the same on the other side. Heaving, Jaime brought the man down into the brush with a slam, red running through his fingers. The armour made more commotion than the men's screams and Jaime paused. Eerie silence filled the air.

No one.

Running back for Alysanne, he pulled her to the gate. Cerella stood in the bush, wading her way out. Blood stained the hem of her dress and her fingers, but her eyes spoke the true crime. Her hands shook, dropping the knife but Alysanne picked it up again, wiping it on the ratty tunic she wore.

"You've been brave, Cerella," she whispered. Jaime took Rhaenys and the stallion and led them out. We haven't the time to coddle, he thought. Soon enough, the guards would be discovered and the bells would ring. They needed to be long gone by then.

Outside the Red Keep's walls, Jaime felt everything breeze through him. His knees weak, he turned to Alysanne.

"This is treason. You need to leave," she murmured achingly, and their eyes met for a moment. When dark grey flickered away, Jaime felt words fill his mouth and he clenched his jaw. It was not something he wanted to say.

"You hold the last key to the North. I'm not about to let Aerys Targaryen take you, but I have to stay," he said instead. "I made an oath." Her face softened at his words and Jaime forced himself not to react when she touched his face. "Alysanne, go."

His voice was raw and trembling and Alysanne turned to her handmaiden. "Cerella, take Sandstorm and hide. I'll find you as soon as I can."

"My lady, what if I can't—"

"You will. If not, meet in three days time." Alysanne looked to her handmaiden with a reassuring smile. "The Cobbler's Square, at noon."

"You need to go the Mud Gate," Jaime added as Cerella got onto her horse. "It's quiet and it's around port. There'll be a Lannisport merchant ship waiting, big enough for stowaways. Give them this," he instructed, passing her a folded letter. The Lannister Lion wax seal rubbed against his fingers before the handmaiden stowed it away in her pack.

"My lady, we must go—"

"Give Ser Jaime and I a moment."

Cerella's doubt was as potent as Jaime's but the difference was that her's showed on her face. Still, she obeyed the woman's commands and set off down the road to Flea Bottom. It'd be easy to hide there. None of the Citywatch liked lingering there for long, but Jaime pushed the thought of red running through the streets away anyway.

The two stood foolishly in the shadow of the Red Keep walls. He saw the features he already knew, and held the hand that slipped into his when no one saw. His free hand pulled down her hood, her dark hair shining in torchlight, and he was struck by the memory of a night that felt an eternity ago. She did not age, but there was something gone in her eyes. A candle that flickered out too soon, someone who missed home.

"Jaime," she began uselessly. They both knew nothing would come out of this. He cupped her face against his better judgement and found her sagging into him. Her grey eyes blinked at him, wet with tears. "Come with me. Please."

"You know I can't," he whispered as his gaze fell. Her gaze flickered from his face to the squirming lot on her chest and she swallowed.

Jaime saw the moment the light in her eyes died, but she still found it within herself to stare into his soul, her hand finding his neck and bringing him close. Her breath feathered against his lips and he wondered for half a moment if she'd kiss him.

She's a widow, he thought, appalled, but then she held him close, their foreheads together and his eyes closed. His hands found her hips, and she stepped closer, hand flat against his cheek. Her skin was startlingly cold and dry, unlike his clammy hands and his hands balled into fists, her ratty tunic's fabric twisting in his grip.

Jaime's eyes opened. Hers did not. The tiny thing in her arms looked up at him, and he felt his throat cinch shut. Pulling away, he pressed a tiny kiss to her forehead and held himself there, squeezing his eyes shut again. He had so much to say, but then she was raising his head, her lips nearly brushing his as they looked at each other.

"Say goodbye to them, at least." She managed to hold back any sniffling, but her voice thickened and trembled. She was close to tears, he knew, and Jaime reached to hold the tiny child in Alysanne's arms. It was the girl, that much he knew, and he smiled down at her.

"She looks like you," he said, not taking his eyes off of her. Alysanne frowned, setting her jaw when she looked up at him again, and he found his eyes drawn to the other child wrapped to her chest. His eyes were closed but he let out a gentle gurgle at the Lannister's touch as Jaime stroked the fine, downy hair of his head. "They both do."

"Jaime, you're all I have left," she whispered brokenly. One last chance, Jaime, the young Kingsguard told himself. Is this what you really want? He placed her daughter back into her arms, and told himself he didn't know.

Her gaze hardened. The absence was cold and Jaime felt something within him split in two. But this was what had to be done, even if it wasn't what he wanted at all. It's easier to leave when you have no reason to stay.

"I can't. Not even for you."

She nodded to herself, as if reaffirming this would help her move on, and turned to her mare. Alysanne stuck her foot into the stirrups and swung her leg over Rhaenys elegantly. The horse stepped at the sudden weight, and Alysanne let out a slight grunt as she settled in. Her face screwed in pain, she made sure both of her children were secure before looking at him again. A hard ride was ahead of her.

Jaime hoped she snuck poppy into her pack and prayed that whatever held her together did not break. It was a hard thing to do these days, pray. Jaime didn't know if remembered how, or if he even believed in the gods anymore. No gods would allow a mad king to sit on the throne of Westeros. But they allowed it before. What made this time any different?

Because it affects me personally, Jaime knew. But the gods should have mercy on us.

Unbidden, his father's voice came into his head.The gods have no mercy. That is why they're gods.

"If you can't come with me, then find me when you can." She picked up her reins and glanced down at her little daughter and son. When their eyes met again, she bit her lip and the wisps of longing lingering in her gaze snuck to strangle him alive. He reached to take her hand. Her eyes were tired, wary, but she allowed it all the same.

Her fingers immediately curled around his and he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"You need to leave, before they catch you talking to me," she whispered and Jaime was back to a time that felt so very long ago. The night he hadn't even realized would change it all — oh, how he wish it was still that night. Everything was simpler back then.

"Alysanne," he began, unable to continue. The words caught in his throat and she slipped from his grasp. Instead, a scroll was placed in his loose grip.

"If we are to face each other in the future," she said quietly. "Save them. Bring them to Winterfell, if you can. Keep them safe."

"I will." His voice cracked as she forced one last smile. "I swear it, by the old gods and the new."

With a nudge in the stirrups, Rhaenys began the trot to Flea Bottom and Jaime watched Alysanne disappear.

The paper she had pressed into his hand crinkled and he looked down. Unraveling the script, he felt his lungs drop into his stomach.

Jaime,

I'll be Joanna Flowers in Oldtown, and maybe we'll see each other again, once this is over. I'll be up North, you'll be visiting with the new king. Or maybe we'll all be dead. In that case, there'll be things I wish I'd said, and chances that we should've taken, but what is life without regret?

Their names are Torrhen, and Lyarra, and I'll tell them all about the Lion who saved my life.

Alysanne

A/N: Feel free to comment. I am quite attention-needy.