Chapter Six

Naked limbs were entwined under dusky shadows and slow-lit embers. Against silk sheets, sharp crimson as rose red petals, lay nude flesh, supple, pale, familiar and not, as they pressed against each other with all of the intimacy of lovers. Cast in a slight sheen of sweat rested the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, her golden cascade of hair thrown back against goose-feather pillows embroidered in finest thread and ruby lips curved in a seductive, teasing little grin. With them was a smoldering glance cast to a lean blade of a form, youthful and shone in the gold carried by the lion's birthright.

Jaime's eyes narrowed down to those catlike emerald eyes, mirrors of his own, directed to another. His world stilled to that little sliver of time, heartbeat plummeting as clawed fingers tore into his chest and carved the bloody organ out. His twin's eyes flickered upwards, her little grin faltered and on those striking features so akin to his own, was cast a look of sudden surprise. One lost swiftly to an understanding that glazed them in icy dyes of venom.

Her lips formed the name of their shared brother. "Tyrion."

The Kingslayer couldn't bother to think of that when it was a different golden-haired lion that turned over to him. His sudden tempest of shame and torment became consumed in fury. In less than three strides to cross the room, with a fierce heat blocking his ears to sound and Cersei flinching back in fear, had Jaime's gauntlet fist flown forward and dragged Lancel from the bed.

'What are you doing?' His first punch cracked the soft cartilage of the boy's nose, a wheezing gasp of frightened pain as blood spilled forth from both nostrils. Even Jaime couldn't say who the question was directed to.

'Why did you do this to me?' His second blow had Lancel thrown backwards, landing on as his ass and receiving a metal boot to his ribs.

'How could you?' By Jaime's third, his cousin had gotten enough wits about him to try and curl up, head tucked into his chest and arms wrapped around his body. It meant nothing. Jaime's blows simply kept raining down, fists and kicks and knees, as the blonde tried to beat the source of his rage half-to-death. Bruises richly purple blossomed throughout that lightly tanned skin and stained over each other as spilled ink. The slithering beast in his chest coiled deeper and deeper around his heart, not a single blow delivering the succor that he yearned for. 'I want to kill you.'

"Stop! Jaime, stop!" Delicate hands untouched by any rigors curled around his shirtsleeve, tugging him away from the man that had stolen what should be only his. Jaime tried to resist but his twin insistently pulled him away and he obediently followed her directive. "You're going to kill him!"

'I want to kill him.' A figure made only more lush from childbirth pressed tightly against his body. Eyes akin to his own looked up with a bright glint of triumph in their depths. Cersei's lips were pressed against his ear, her hands moving swiftly to catch his own, body pushed forward and making him stumble back. 'Why would you choose him?'

"You need to calm down." Her voice, lowly seductive, cajoled him. She whispered confidently in his ear, each word slowly smothering his ire. Promises that he didn't listen to, as her heartbeat and his echoed each other in his ears. "You don't want to hurt him. It's alright. I'm here. I love you."

As her slim hands made their way to his chest, Jaime suddenly recalled where they had just been and stumbled back. For a moment, all his world was Cersei's gaze flashing in upset before a pair of violet eyes, contemplative and hesitant, took their place. A mature and striking beauty became softly girlish features, golden tresses turned to wild and unruly dark curls and an apprehensive grin quirked at him. A willow reed swaying in an armored grasp, he was suddenly beset by mellow tones spoken in hushed plea. "Please don't hurt him, Jaime."

"I'm sorry." The lion knight responded automatically and the snow spirit was dispelled to his twin sister again, his perfect opposite, the woman looking at him with a proud grin to her painted lips.

"I forgive you," Cersei promised, leaning up and pressing her lips against his. It was a familiar gesture to return it, passionate and slow and tasting of strawberry sweetness. Her arms wrapped around him, her body was pressed against him as they had since children and promises shuttered with each kiss and graceful caress.

She was lonely. She missed him. She chose Lancel for his similarity to him. It was almost as though Jaime was back in her bed. She'd birthed their third child, another perfect golden lion babe. Wouldn't he like to see the little prince? She loved him. Only him. She was so happy to see him. She wouldn't need anyone else anymore.

"How long?" Jaime gasped out between her kisses, her touch, her scent, her essence infusing his entire world. He closed his eyes to keep those catlike emeralds in mind. "How long did you-"

"Once," Cersei promised. A traitorous voice in his mind whispered that this wasn't true, he quashed it. "Only once, Jaime. You're the only man I could ever love."

"I-" He made the mistake of looking at her and those iridescent amethysts returned. "I love you."

It was an oath, a promise and a plea all at once. This was Jaime's other half. He loved Cersei. He would always love Cersei.

"I know." No one understood him as she did. So when the queen took his hand into hers and led her to the bed just vacated by a black-and-blue figure lying prone on the floor, he followed. When she laid him against sheets that made his skin crawl, he obeyed. And when she leaned down to press yet one more kiss upon him, Jaime closed his eyes and reminded himself that he was where he belonged.

x

"Are you paying attention to me, girls?"

"Yes, Septa Mordane," Lyarra chorused alongside her sister and the steward's daughter, Jeyne Poole. The moment the wimple-clad woman returned to the Seven Pointed Star laid on her lap, the bastard allowed her eyes to stray again. She had heard this passage of the text, dedicated to the Maiden, about obeying one's husband enough to recite it from memory alone. That was more than a little sad, considering she neither subscribed to the Faith nor had much of an inclination towards obedience. She blamed her bastardy for this, though even Lyarra could admit the true culprit to be curiosity.

'Why can't I join Robb's lessons?' It wasn't fair. Her brother got to learn all sorts of useful things while she was just reminded of her duties to her one-day husband. One she had claimed to Ser Jaime would be the most handsome, most gallant unimportant knight ever. 'Where does one find a knight?'

The simple answer was the South but Lyarra Snow didn't particularly want to leave her home. Her first taste of the South had introduced her to such odd characters as Ser Jaime Lannister and the feckless mountain of a man that her father claimed as best friend. The dark-haired girl was quite certain she had seen the King fondle a kitchen maid at the feast and that had repulsed her thoroughly. 'Maybe the Bolton boy. Lord Roose sent his son to the Vale for his squirehood, didn't he?'

Domeric Bolton had bypassed Winterfell entirely on his trip to House Redfort, which had not made the best of impressions with Lady Stark. Lyarra had kept her ears open to gather more information but hadn't acquired more than the impression that the Boltons were being Boltons, as was typical. No House opposed the Stark rule in the North directly but the skinflayers did skirt the line occasionally.

'No, don't call them that,' Lyarra scolded herself. After she had misjudged the Kingslayer so swiftly, and had been proven shamefully wrong by Ser Jaime's confession, she had promised herself not to judge by name alone. 'Though Lord Roose doesn't make that easy with his pale eyes and leech jars.'

'Eh, you're doing it again!' She sharply bit down on her bottom lip. Then immediately released it. The she-wolf didn't want a fish monger's lips, even if she wasn't certain if Old Nan wasn't passing a log off as a lizard lion. 'My eyes are unnerving in a certain light as well and my hobby is to swim in pools beneath the crypts. If anything, I should align with Lord Roose as two fellow eccentrics in the world.'

The dark-haired bastard attributed her inability to visit the heated underground reservoirs for her current unhappiness. As well as Septa Mordane's exposure to the royal party reminding her of her duties. Typically Lyarra would attend a single session a sennight and the woman would stay silent on her skipping the remainder to attend her brother's lessons. Now that the septa was newly invigorated to make a proper lady of her though, Lyarra was required to attend every session. Hours and hours of pointless embroidery and discussion of a lady's responsibilities, which she could far more concisely explain. Be pious, be meek, be fertile. That was lectures one through twenty altogether.

'At least Sansa's pleased to see me.' A fond smile crossed the bastard's face as eyes took in a bowed head of autumn painstakingly working on her stitches. Her five-year-old sister had been inconsolable when Lyarra was allowed to move out of the nursery earlier in the year and she was left behind. It was touching to be missed so fervently, even if nightly braiding sessions played a part in her sadness. 'Maybe I'll allow her to dress my hair up again tonight.'

Sansa Stark's nimble fingers, attentiveness to detail and instinct for trends made her an ideal lady's maid. Lyarra, who didn't particularly like having her curls pulled and tamed forcefully, made less so suitable a doll, but for her little sister, she would endure. 'Then I shall steal her brush until she plays a game of tag with me.'

Lyarra would mitigate the damage of Sansa's conditioning as much as she could, even if it killed her.

"And the Maiden said, 'Should you grant you alms to the Houses of God, I shall bless your home with many sons and each shall be fair of face and healthy of limb. Your husband shall rejoice for his line will be kept in the Gods' Light for another generation by your piety and goodness…"

Or Septa Mordane. That worked too.

Her gaze returned longingly to the window where slate-grey skies and dim sunlight beckoned. Washed of color, it was through scent and touch and sound that Winterfell came alive to her and nothing could beat the feeling of a chilly breeze against her heated skin. 'Is that Robb? What is he doing outside of lessons?'

More importantly, if her brother was there, why was she here? Father insisted on equal punishments between his trueborn children and bastard daughter and should Lady Stark choose to punish her, it'd have to be applied to Robb as well. As her elder brother was the lady's firstborn and cherished son, Lyarra was looking at a few hundred lines and lost dessert at most. Well worth losing Septa Mordane.

"Septa? May I leave to the garderobe?"

"Will you return?"

"Of course, Septa," Lyarra answered earnestly. She angled her head to allow violet eyes to glimmer in the light, a gesture that almost always won her what she wanted from the menfolk- and Robb- of House Stark. The bastard received a suspicious look in response but the septa gave her assent. Offering a wink to a curious Sansa- and receiving a pout in response, her sister knew she wouldn't be coming back, smart girl- the dark-haired girl happily headed out and made for an empty room. Once there, she began to pull apart her dress, underskirt and overskirt revealing a simple pair of buckskin trousers. Her sandy brown blouse, all the better to wash stains from, remained.

Once that was done, Lyarra happily raced off to where she had seen her brother last, red ribbon braid swinging behind her. This was much more to her pace than embroidery and marriage talk!

x

"He did what?" Tyrion's low hiss didn't keep his hands from moving in a brisk and businesslike manner over the shallow cuts inadvertently drawn on his cousin's body. It was blunt damage that his older brother primarily dealt out to Lancel. "Gods dammit Jaime."

A liquid hazel green blinked blearily back at him. "You want to bed Cersei too?"

"No!" A shudder ran down the dwarf's spine followed by a blank look at Lancel's disbelief. "Is it that hard to believe that someone wouldn't want to bed that viper of a woman?"

"She's so beautiful," was the mournful reply.

"Not worth this," was Tyrion's concise take on the situation. An orange salve spread across almost all of Lancel's bared skin, making it look as though the dwarf was attempting to baste his cousin before a slow roast over the firepit. "Have you sent a letter to your mother yet?"

Lancel nodded obediently. "Homesickness and belly ache."

"Good boy. Stay there for a half-year or so and I'll call you back when Jaime's anger has cooled."

"Father will be upset," the teen mumbled. "He wanted me to finish my squirehood here."

"His Grace has a cupbearer so I doubt he'll miss you too much," Tyrion said wryly. "Uncle Kevan would be far more disappointed to learn you're cuckolding the King, don't you think?"

"Jaime's doing it too," Lancel pointed out petulantly.

'I know,' Tyrion inwardly moaned. "When has Jaime ever gotten in trouble for anything?"

The boy took some time to think on this and, as he was too young to remember the repercussions of Jaime's finest act, a dark-blonde head nodded in reluctant agreement. Tyrion took some satisfaction that he would be able to keep his naive cousin from Cersei's grasp. Far better for the boy to deal with a tongue-lashing from his father and japes from the nobility of the Westerlands than beheaded because he was young and foolish and in the way of things, attracted to the most shallow of beauty. At least Jaime had fooled himself to thinking he was in love.

'Why hasn't his head been turned now that his heart was truly touched?' Tyrion had been so confident that the mysterious snow maiden with the sword in hand and a skylark on her lips would have saved his brother. 'But then do I even know of how deeply she touched him?'

The Stark bastard had affected his brother, he was certain of it. Mayhaps not enough to withdraw him from the claws of the curdled lioness but there had been something changed in Jaime when he saw him last. A burden lifted almost as he walked with a lighter tread and a head held higher. The Imp suspected that seeing the young woman again would simply reinforce that initial draw. If only he could bring the lady to the Red Keep…

'No, I have no leverage with House Stark.' Tyrion noted grumpily. Neither would be inflict Cersei on any innocent maiden. Though he didn't recall the wolves known for any beauty, so perhaps the plain looks of Jaime's fascination would protect the lady from his sister's ire? 'Something to look into later.'

"When the salve finishes settling, wrap it all up in gauze," the Imp instructed, tossing a ball of freshly laundered linen strips at the boy. "When you're done, rest up in my quarters and don't touch any of the books or wine. Or my spyglass. It's mine and I will show no mercy if you damage it. Understand?"

"Yes, Cousin." Lancel's tones were both tired and grateful, as he reclined on his bed. Tyrion would be bunking at the White Tower tonight as the salve positively reeked. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it," Tyrion replied. The dwarf of House Lannister hadn't received any significant measure of his kin's approval and their gratitude wasn't any more expected. He had intervened here because he needed information and couldn't allow wind of Lancel's injuries to reach Pycelle, and thus, his Father's, ears but he was pleased also to patch the boy up. While foolish, Lancel didn't have it in him to be expressly cruel. "Think it all a nightmare and know that if you speak, our family shall make it so. And trust me, you'd rather Jaime's fists than whatever Cersei will plan for you should you ever boast of bedding her."

His final warning given, Tyrion closed his medical kit- truly a box filled with odds and ends that he acquired when the fancy took him- and left the room. His awkward limbs didn't allow him to walk a pace that kept up with his mind, so he delved into the possibilities laid open to him as he sought to achieve his current goal. Ideally, Jaime would be separated from Cersei and in another lady's arms. If not the Stark bastard than one of a similar appearance could be acquired from a court. There were plenty of plain-faced brunettes around. The Westerlings had more of them than he could count.

'But not many ladies would know how to fight.' Tyrion had gotten the impression that his brother was mystified and intrigued by that skill. 'Maybe I should focus on calligraphy and sketching instead.'

If only he knew more about the bastard! Jaime had been unexpectedly cagey when discussing her but while he had pried out plenty of knowledge, it wasn't enough. He wouldn't have any opportunities to observe the maiden himself either. How unfortunate. Tyrion didn't want to toss just any lady in his brother's direction. The Gods knew that technique hadn't worked for his father.

Ooh, maybe he could dangle the promise of a gooddaughter to have Father fund an expedition North?

It was a tantalizing possibility but he swiftly dismissed it. Lord Tywin Lannister would not be pleased to be offered a bastard and even less so, when a betrothal offer was rejected by his son. Jaime hadn't been fully cleansed of their dear sister's venom yet. 'Shame, I could have copied more of those plays.'

Tyrion's brain practically screeched to a stop. He stilled in the hallway.

"I'm a genius!" the dwarf proudly exclaimed.

'I'll just send a letter to my future goodsister!'

Truly his own brilliance astounded him sometimes. Ignoring the odd looks the guards, servants and courtiers in the hall were sending him now, Tyrion happily increased his limited pace and headed directly to the ravenry. 'Don't worry Jaime. I'll arrive with reinforcements soon!'

And until then? He snagged a passing servant and arranged for two servings of sliced brioche slathered in lingonberry jam to be sent to the White Tower. Not a bad bet to have a bribe ready when he had to wheedle Jaime into taking a pallet for the night.

x

Very awkward transition chapter. I'm adding it mostly so the story could go on since it's been on my laptop for a week now and I haven't been able to add anything else without cutting it soon after.