Alys

Alys let her eyes drift shut with the slight breeze and the sun on her face. Enjoying the moment, the peace, as she listens to Rhaenys talk animatedly about Balerion and hears Jon giggling every time the cat sniffs or paws at him. The light wind carried the saltwater smell of the Blackwater and the gardens left a floral scent twined throughout it.

She lets out a slow calm breath and opens her eyes, watching as Jon wobbles in his delicate balancing act of sitting up. Oberyn placing a gentle hand on his back to steady him as he talked lowly with Rhaenys, the girl nodding and reaching to pull the bit of ribbon that she uses to play with Balerion who quickly went from inspecting Jon to prowling about the small garden balcony in his hunt of the ribbon.

It was an overall pleasant afternoon, she could hear distantly the sounds of the bustling organized chaos that seemed to come with the day before a royal wedding in the Keep, but here on this little balcony Alys found nothing but peace. And she relished in it and was more than glad to let better memories of Kings Landing form like this than to dwell on the ones that still haunted her nightmares.

There was a strange realization that Alys had made as the days ticked closer to the wedding and her eventual departure North to Winterfell; she would miss the south, more than she'd ever have anticipated. She'd miss these warm days that even in the height of summer never quite got so warm at her home. She'd miss the smell of the sea that permeated the air and the walks in a diverse garden cultivated for beauty rather than survival like the glass gardens of her childhood.

She'd miss Oberyn, who despite stating his intention to accompany Rhaenys on her initial journey north would eventually return to Dorne once his niece was settled. She'd miss Elia, more so than she did even now as the other woman spent most of her time either with Rhaenys or resting in preparation for her own journey south. She'd miss the ladies of the Reach who laughed and gossiped so easily.

She would miss all her friends and companions that she'd made here, who once she left would only be talked with through letters.

And she'd miss Jaime, who felt like he would be the hardest to leave behind. She'd miss chess games and quiet moments before the southern heart tree. She'd miss his humor and bluntness, and constant ability to make her feel better, safer.

She already has missed for months the restful sleep she always got with him beside her in her bed.

Alys had missed Winterfell for so long, but now it seemed she had all new things to miss when she returned to it. And some of the things she missed of her home would still be missing even when she reunites with it.

Her father, Brandon, Lyanna.

It would all be different than when she'd left. Her brother would be Lord Stark, her good-sister would run the household and manage the keep. And Alys… Alys would be Jon's mother, but what else? She loved it, mothering him, but she couldn't help but feel like she like she's once again in the small smugglers boat they'd left Kings Landing in months ago, drifting away from shore and uncertain of what really to expect ahead.

"He seems quite the pleasant baby," A voice, almost sickly sweet, and accompanied by the smell of lavender cut through Alys's drifted thoughts.

Alys looked towards the voice to find Lord Varys stood beside her, his hands folded delicately in the sleeves of his robes and his eyes gazing towards Jon where he still sat unsteadily with Oberyn's hand on his back. "Thank you." She responds, putting a polite smile towards him.

She wasn't sure what to think of Lord Varys, though she'd had little interaction with him and thus only really knew him through what others said. She did though remember Aleah, and the words of caution her friend had given her long ago. So Alys eyed him carefully, knowing that especially now with his reinstatement as Master of Whisperers on Roberts small council that he would likely be back to listening for all manners of secrets, if he'd ever even stopped during his time under guard.

And unlike before Alys had much weightier secrets to guard.

"He looks much like his mother," Varys adds, his eyes still on Jon though Alys noted the light flick of them her way. And the way he said it put her entirely on edge, startlingly feeling like that day Queen Rhaella had called her to her chambers, the day she'd found Aleah dead. "I wonder if when he grows he'll show any signs of his paternal side." He says it lightly the way one sets a intricate trap, a smile to his face like the jovial man he appears to be.

"Perhaps," Alys shrugs, treading delicately and swallowing the bit of nervous dread that's settled low in her belly.

"And Rhaenys seems to be fond of him," Varys nods towards the little girl, who was now twirling the ribbon over Jon for him to grab at, her laughter singing through the wind mingled with the sound of Jons. "Much like a brother."

"She misses Aegon," Alys attempts in cover, but she fidgets slightly with the edge of her sleeve, looking purely at Lord Varys who still stares at the two children.

"I imagine she would," Varys nods with a thin solemness that leant to some nagging feeling in Alys's mind, trying to decipher what it was Varys was doing here talking with her. He didn't strike her as the sort to spark up conversations with no reason, rather more the type who did every little thing with the some intention. "I hear they'll even be growing up together," he states, "that the little Dragon princess will grow up amongst you northerners."

"I imagine you would hear that," she jokes still trying to match the mans joviality through her nerves.

He smiles widely and nods, looking to her now. "I hear many things, as is my duty for the realm." His eyes search her as he speaks, "I heard much of your journey south, and I was quite sorry to hear of your sisters death."

"Thank you for your condolences," she says, unable to hide the stiffness and hoping against hope that it'd be read purely as grief.

"It is a shame you were not able to reunite with her before her parting," he says, his eyes flickering with a bit of hidden knowledge between them and Alys has to force herself to meet his gaze and study him herself. To study his motives, his reason for this conversation. "The two of you were so close and yet…"

The sound of Oberyn speaking reaches her, his voice low and light as he talks to Jon. It brings some other vague memory of Varys to her mind. One that makes her head lilt just slightly as she looks over him further with this new thought.

When Oberyn had found them on their way southward he'd mentioned the Spider, those whispers passed on by Lord Varys sending Oberyn and his party from Sunspear to meet Alys and Elia and Howland.

Lord Varys had known of her hand in Elia and the children's escape from Kings Landing since she left, and yet had said nothing to Robert or her brother. Instead he'd sent word to Elia's family, aided them that way rather than curry the favor that would have likely meant his release and return to court earlier than just recently.

He was no longer looking at her, his head turned and gaze on Rhaenys now. His eyes followed the princess and Alys wondered if his interactions with the Martells had gone further than just that one correspondence.

She knew very little about how Aegon's fate was decided and dealt with. Only the very basics, he was sent to Essos, Doran's wife had a home there that could house him securely within, and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms would believe the little dragon prince was dead.

But the how of it all was not ever given to her. She'd never asked for it, never needed it, and still did not require it.

But she wondered how much of a hand in it all Lord Varys played. And how loyal that meant he was to his new Baratheon King.

It felt very much like chess, studying him as though he were a piece or even perhaps the player opposite of her. Or perhaps it felt more like Cyvasse, as it all felt far more complicated than she believed herself capable of winning at.

So she didn't need to win, not really, she just needed to be certain that the pieces she wished to keep were safe.

Lord Varys's eyes returned to her, feeling her studying gaze upon him it seems, and she offers a smile. "Thank you again Lord Varys, for your condolences and kind words. I am happy that you've returned to your position, I can't imagine there are many better suited."

"Very kind of you to say, Lady Alys." His head tilts, his gaze sharper than his appearance would lend one to believe.

"May you serve the crown well." She adds carefully with just enough inclination to hint at her meaning.

He smiles further, an amused quirk to his expression as his eyes narrow and judge her. "My duty is to the realm above all," he pauses just a fraction of a second and Alys feels she's perhaps passed some hidden test as he adds carefully with his eyes now looking towards Rhaenys and Jon both, "and thus I'll do whatever is best for it."

Alys nods, and though she feels at least steady with Varys she is glad when he bows his farewell and leaves her once again alone in the pleasant afternoon with only the sounds of the sea and the two children before her as her company.

Oberyn looks her way, a slight question of concern to his look and she offers a smile and a shake of her head to dissuade any of his worry away. He nods, though his gaze follows the direction that Lord Varys had gone before he turns back to Rhaenys's insistant chatting and a smile takes over his face as he goes into some long-winded words of his own that gets the little girl laughing.

The afternoon is quiet, and Alys still feels that bit of knowledge that she'll miss all this when she leaves but she also feels that she won't miss that most recent part. The anxious navigating of the court games and underhanded politics. The secrets and moving pieces of it all.

But she will miss Oberyn, and so she sits for a second more with the peace of her afternoon before she stands and heads over to join the Dornishman and the two children with him. She kneels beside Jon who reaches up towards her with grabbing hands that she offers her finger to. Rhaenys laughs as she runs towards her with Balerion following the ribbon she trails behind her and when the cat brushes past Alys and puts her off balance Oberyn reaches a hand over to settle on her back to steady her.

Alys smiles towards him, feeling another breeze come off the Blackwater and feeling once again the peace of the afternoon settle within her.

Jaime

Jaime was just a tad bit miserable the last several days.

In the last week before the wedding he found his mood souring with each day that passed them closer to the event. And with today being the last day before the wedding he found his mood the foulest by far.

It hadn't helped that he's had hardly any time with Cersei where they were alone since her arrival in the city. The queen-to-be almost always found with some lady or lord trying to curry favor with her. And if there weren't any strangers around then the twins were in the company of their father, which often Jaime felt was worse.

As his father was now especially one Jaime preferred to avoid with the ever looming matter of his fate playing into the miserable affair that was any meal involving both Cersei and their father. As even if Cersei never stated plainly her preference during those familial meals it was quite clear to Jaime what she wished. And on the other end of that spectrum was Lord Tywin who seemed to be getting more and more frustrated with the dragging of feet in releasing him.

At the very least it was entertaining to see someone else irritated with Lord Ned Starks honor, as the Northern lord was the one putting the biggest stop on Jaime's release.

Well that and the fact that Jaime hasn't asked for anything in either way, which his father and Cersei both seem to insinuate would have some sway on the matter.

But at this point he wasn't sure what he wished anymore.

His reasoning for joining the Kingsguard years ago was now finally coming to fruition with his sisters marriage to the king. She would be spending her life here in Kings Landing and if Jaime kept his gilded armor and his white cloak and his shallow vows then he would be spending it with her. As they'd wanted all those years ago hidden in that inn after tumbling upon that bed together.

But now… now he had perspective he supposed. At least more of it than he'd had then.

He knew what the role would demand of him. He knew it's limits for him as well. Not that he imagined Robert Baratheon would start burning lords or planning to blow up the city he worked so hard to take.

But Jaime would have to be at the service of a man he didn't particularly like.

And further he'd have to spend the rest of his life outside the door as the man he was sworn to, and didn't particularly like, fucked a woman he loved.

At least if he wasn't a Kingsguard he could avoid being nearby as it occurred and instead just drown his anger and sorrow over that fact far away from it all.

That was perhaps one little compensation that being sent to the wall would give, he'd be as far as he could manage from it sequestered up north in that frozen hellscape. But that option had all but faded away as it seemed not even Lord Stark was honor-bound enough to risk angering the Warden of the West quite that much. Which, Jaime wasn't all too torn up about as it was certainly the least desirable option by far.

Jaime was unsure though whether he disliked the dinners alone with his family more or the much more populous feasts that were being held this week leading to the proper wedding. They weren't exactly extravagant, at least by most standards, and they weren't overly large either really. It was more the dislike of both having to skirt around the stares and the whispers of Kingslayer, alongside the fact that it was the beginning of having to see Robert alongside Cersei. A peak into a potential future.

Watching him kiss her hand and flirt and laugh was all a bit aggravating like listening to an off-pitch bard. And then of course the added bit of distaste that came when Cersei was forced by their father to retire for the evening and then Jaime inevitably caught sight of Roberts flirting with anything with breasts who walked his way.

And he didn't even have the company of Alys at these feasts to fall upon, which he was certain would make them passably enjoyable or at the very least tolerable.

Ned Stark was always there, though half the time Jaime swore he looked as miserable as Jaime felt, but his sister had yet to make her appearance amongst the smaller court events.

It certainly had soured his mood further when he'd inquired with her about the absence and was told she'd been eating dinners with Elia and the little princess Rhaenys. Her reasoning was all sound, she wished to comfort Elia in regards to Rhaenys's future in the North, as well as get the little girl excited enough about the prospect so that she wasn't depressed about being dragged across the seven kingdoms away from her only family.

But then he'd noted that the Prince Oberyn Martell was also often absent from these dinners and that sent a twisting feeling to his stomach that would only deepen when he glanced over to see Cersei smiling over her wine at Robert with the sort of eyes that leant more towards the bedroom than a feast.

It was almost unnerving the similarity between the two reactions he had of seeing Cersei with Robert and seeing Alys with Oberyn. Both were certain to put a frown to his face and a burning twist to his stomach. And both made him irrevocably wish to hit something very hard with a sword, preferably the men of those situations.

There was perhaps the small concession that at least he would not have to watch Alys marry Prince Oberyn, nor even have to see the two kiss. Though then he of course had the strange thought that while Alys seemed quite certain marriage was entirely off the table for her by way of the small babe on her hip, Prince Oberyn was quite possibly the noble least likely to care about such an occurrence.

The man did have a few bastards of his own already, and the word of his lovers and affairs made it seem that he wasn't all too choosy over who he shared his bed with. And a match between a Northerner and a Dornishman would certainly be quite an advantageous once, binding the two kingdoms furthest from each other together in matrimony would likely be rather appealing. And Dorne had never cared about the concept of bastards, so it would hardly put a stop to any betrothal.

And so Jaime's frown deepened and his stomach twisted further.

His only acquiescence in that train of thought was that Lord Eddard Stark did not seem the politically ambitious type.

All these stomach churning thoughts apparently make him poor company, as he had been spending this last day before the wedding with his brother but Tyrion had been attempting to read all he could in the library before his inevitable return to the Rock following the wedding and evidently Jaime in his wallowing was far too annoying to read around.

So Jaime had been sent off alone, and he sourly walked the halls and gardens in search of a distraction.

Hoping mostly to come across Alys.

Perhaps she'd be in the garden with the Tyrell's, those lady's were amping up their time with her in seeming preparation for Alys's return to the far far north. Thus it was always easy to find Alys at lunch as Jaime doesn't think she's not joined them for it in weeks.

But it was the late afternoon now, and Alys typically left the chittering rose women by early afternoon if only to put Jon down for a nap.

Then maybe she'd be in her rooms, and so Jaime turns his feet to wander through the Maiden Vault in order to happen by her rooms and just knock on her door to check in. Ned Stark would perhaps be there, though that really wouldn't put any sort of damper on Jaime stopping by. It was a bit fun seeing the Northern Lord squirm and scowl anytime he happened upon Jaime and Alys together.

It made him almost want to mention his previous habits of sleeping beside Alys on a nightly basis. Vaguely enough to see the man squirm more and perhaps get some sort of scrap out of it.

He'd stop it before it went to far, if only out of his care for Alys, but it would be nice to have an honest fight for once rather than the far too easy sparring matches he'd been forced to.

But to more sour disappointment he finds only the bastards wet-nurse within Alys's rooms.

"She and Prince Oberyn took the children to the garden about an hour ago," the woman tells him, souring his mood even further.

He nods and departs as quickly has he can before he ends up being rude to Alys's wet-nurse in his sour mood as he doesn't think that would go over particularly well.

He walks frowning down the hall only to nearly be hit by a door and step back with a sharp curse in his throat before he sees a sight not often seen since her arrival, Elia Martell.

"Oh," she blinks at him as she catches the door and shakes a head at the guard that had been outside her door who was now holding his spear in a vague threatening manner and a part of Jaime wishes he'd jumped immediately into attacking so Jaime could have some means of venting his frustration.

"Apologies," Jaime forces out, not caring to cover the bit of harsh edge to his voice that clearly makes the Martell guard glare further even as he lowers his spear at Elia's hand.

"Are you looking for Alys?" She inquires, dark eyes looking him over with an intelligent gaze that made him shift just slightly. "If so I believe she and Oberyn headed to the gardens."

"Yes," he coughs shifting further and struggling not to cross his arms if only so that he didn't look more miserable than he was. "Yes, well the wet-nurse informed me of that so."

Her eyes narrow just slightly with thought before she nods, "I was going to go join them before dinner, perhaps you'd escort me?" She glances at the guard and smiles with a bit of wit, "my brothers don't like me wandering alone anymore."

"I'm sure they'd like you wandering with the Kingslayer even less," Jaime returns only just slightly bitterly.

Her head tilts and she shrugs, "I imagine it would be your Lannister title more so than that if anything was to make them distrust you." She's got a slight quirk to her lips as she says it, like her families dislike of him and House Lannister were something funny rather than something derived from his killing of her good-father and his own fathers plans to have her and her children killed.

He doesn't really know Elia Martell well, he realizes with a distant acknowledgment. When he'd joined the Kingsguard she lived on Dragonstone and Lewyn Martell was understandably the Kingsguard most often assigned to her and her children. And even when she returned to court he was the most frequent in her company, with Barristan second until the both of them departed and Aerys decided Elia wasn't in need of a Kingsguard all the time.

He knew Alys and Elia had grown close, knew that it was close enough that Alys had risked being considered a traitor to Roberts new crown to save Elia's life and children.

He knew that Elia likely was one of the few other people to know the truth of Jon. As it would only make sense, how else would she get away with saying she gave birth to a bastard in Dorne if Elia wasn't involved.

Did Oberyn know as well?

Alys and Jaime had known each other far longer than she'd known Oberyn, and Jaime had believed them much closer than she'd have had time to get with the Red Viper.

What made him more worthy of knowing and keeping Alys's secrets than Jaime?

Jaime was both apparently too silent and too sour for too long for Elia's liking because she cleared her throat, "do you plan on killing me on this short walk to the gardens Ser Jaime or should I ask my guard to escort me instead?"

Jaime frowns but sighs, "didn't have that planned for my day so no need to bother this poor man." He offers his arm and ignores the guards pointed glare as Elia nods for him to leave them be. He only slightly ignores the fact that the guard still follows along, albeit at enough of a distance that he perhaps could be thought to just be walking the same way as them.

"How have you been Ser Jaime?" Elia asks, evidently deciding small talk is how she wishes to spend this walk.

"Fantastic," he offers a thin grin, "how could I not be? I killed a king, I live in limbo, and my sister is marrying the new king. So really I could not be better than I am now."

Elia gives him a look that could either be her very concerned or very over him already. Or perhaps both.

Regardless she nods after a second of shooting that look his way and remarks, "I understand completely. I've fared similarly well as of late. With a dead husband, a few months on the run, and now both my children soon to be gone from me."

She says it with the oddest lilt of teasing that makes him nearly falter in his step.

"But Alys has been a comfort," Elia continues a bit more genuinely and heartfelt, "I imagine you could say the same."

Now Jaime does falter in a step, a slight hiccup of his foot stopping when it shouldn't as he looks over at Elia and considers. He recovers, as fast as he can manage, and Elia is gracious enough to not comment on the fact and instead just continues walking as though no falter was made.

"She's always been pleasant company," Jaime remarks with as much a tone of casualness he can manage, "as you should know well enough, having as you said traveled on the run with her for a few months."

"She never said it," Elia remarks, "but I could tell at times that she seemed to regret not saying anything to you before we departed, it weighed on her."

Jaime pauses, but only in his mind thankfully, and rolls that over. "She's always been rather considerate of people. Likely thought I'd flounder and fall without her around."

"I imagine it all would have been easier with her here." Elia says. "I know how grateful I was to have her with me on the road, she is as you say considerate and always seemed more worried over me and my children than her own wellbeing."

Jaime takes the chance and pokes, "I imagine it was hard on her, being on the road and pregnant."

Elia, ever more tactful and full of grace than him it seems, doesn't even blink at the prodding. "Yes, Howland and I worked hard to be sure she did not overrun herself. The last thing any of us wanted was for her to lose Jon."

Jaime frowns, but can't bring himself to poke further just out of worry that Elia would inform Alys and then Alys would be mad at him. She would be leaving soon for the North, a thing he doesn't wish to think on long, and thus he doesn't really fancy spending her last few weeks in Kings Landing with her ignoring him again.

So he pivots directions, "I am sorry you lost your own son."

She's quiet for a moment, nods and just as tactful as before responds, "the journey was hardest on him." Jaime believes he can spot a bit of sorrow, or grief he supposes, to her gaze but she seems to quickly sturdy herself with it and turns to him. "My focus now is making sure Rhaenys is safe."

"Up north I've heard," he says as she nods. "I imagine that will be hard for you."

"Very," she answers honestly, "but if it means she is able to live, and perhaps live a life worthy of her than I will bear it."

"A life in a cold isolated land with no family nearby," Jaime muses almost bitterly, "yes I imagine that's very worthy."

"She'll be alive," Elia points out, "and with opportunities before her that others might say are too free. She is still of noble birth, keeping my name rather than my late husbands, and thus has opportunity there. She'll be with people who will at the least be kind and caring for her, Alys especially but even Lord Stark has been kind when he's come to see her, and Alys informed me that the new Lady Stark is a kind woman as well." Elia states it all clearly, obviously all facts she's thought long and deeply on. How much did she have to think of it all before she decided it was worthy? "She'll grow up with other children, Jon, and the new Stark child, Robb. She'll be educated as befitting her, and won't be shut away or given to some life vow for any reason other than her own."

Jaime frowns at the thoughts of life vows. He supposes that much is enough to be grateful of, that Rhaenys wasn't forced to take one without any choice.

Jaime had chosen his vow. He had regretted it often since taking it, but he'd made it himself.

"What about you?" Elia inquires as they pass out of the Maiden Vault and move near the gardens.

"What about me?" he asks, "there's plenty to be spoken on." He smirks, and Elia only levels another look his way that lends him to think she sees fairly clearly through him.

It disconcerts him more than it ever has with Alys.

"What about your own life vow?" She clarifies with just the slightest bit of teasing exasperation to her tone. "Will you be staying on as one of Robert's kingsguard?"

"Well, it's a life vow and thus one that tends to only end in death."

"The monarchy has shifted," she remarks, "one could have reason to debate that with the Targaryen's rule gone, so is your vow."

"The throne is still the same," Jaime states, "and the rules of it. Only change was whose ass sits upon it."

"Plenty else changed," Elia says almost quieter. "But an argument could also be made that you were released from your vows when they were broken."

"Yes," Jaime fights a frown, "but in that same argument one could state that I should be tried for treason, or sent to the wall, for the manner in which I broke my vows." He feels a bit of a breeze from the Blackwater as they enter the gardens proper. "I wonder if they'd all care so much if I'd broken one of the lesser vows I'd sworn, rather than the apparent big taboo one."

Elia hums in thought, but eventually shakes her head, "it does little to wonder on that." She says, "it's not what happened."

"I suppose you're correct there."

"But what do you want, Ser Jaime?" She inquires. And her gaze, dark and all too bright and clever for how weak and frail she tends to be physically.

"That has little consequence I'm afraid," he decides upon. "If our king decrees I shall stay I suppose I have little course but to stay. If my father gets his way then I suppose I have little course but to return to the promised seat of Casterly Rock."

"If you got your way though," she pushes further, "what would that look like?"

He's saved from answering though, as he catches sight of Alys ahead and they've thus reached their destination.

She's sat upon the ground, skirt bundled up around her and baby beside her. Oberyn is also beside her sat closely to her on other side of Jon and with a hand gently placed upon her back making Jaime have the oddest sensation of his heart rising from the sight of Alys to plummeting at the sight of that.

He hides the frown though when her smiling gaze turns his way and it lessens the drooping feeling into a bit of a swoop instead. Especially as her smile deepens into something even warmer.

He's interrupted from any additional thoughts or swooping when Rhaenys bounds up with a black cat trailing after a bit of ribbon from her hand. "Mama!" She shouts and Jaime watches the little girl who has no idea of what life her mother has bargained as worthy for her ahead.

The girl just babbles, happy in the moment and unaware of the threats that loom consistently around her. That must be nice, Jaime can't help but think. To have no say in your life but to trust in those who do.

Elia's hand is firm enough on his arm that he turns to look to her. "I'll be right there love," she says to Rhaenys, sending her ahead and turning to look at Jaime again with a look to her eyes that says she was not done with her pushing questions.

"Think about what you want," She advises. "Because otherwise you'll end up with no say in it and left to realize that what you'd wanted has drifted from your grasp."

Her hand squeezes, the slightest offer of comfort, before releasing him entirely and heading towards where Rhaenys is skipping excitedly while awaiting her mother.

When Jaime looks back Alys's gaze is no longer on him. She's looking at Oberyn, who is now holding Jon with one hand and bouncing him lightly on his knee. The Dornishman has a tilted smile and fast moving lips as he says something to Alys, something that earns a bright laugh that lilts over the sea breeze and leaves Jaime feeling entirely off kilter at how it makes him feel.

He doesn't wait for her attention to turn again, especially as Oberyn's hand is still resting there on her back and making Jaime jolt with the need to hit something hard. No, Jaime turns on his heel and departs from the garden with a fervent need to be elsewhere.

He walks determinedly with little goal beyond that through the twisting paths of the gardens and into the turning halls of the keep. He walks and fumes and burns a bit as he goes, feeling much like the penned up lions that his grandfather had kept in cages.

None of it makes sense to him really, feeling this way. He shouldn't feel this way, not about blasted Oberyn Martell putting his damned hand on the small of Alys's back.

He shouldn't.

He does.

He turns a random corner in his mindless wandering and finds himself looking at the door to the White Sword Tower. He stares at it, a door he hasn't gone through for months, not since the Sack. Maybe not even before then, he'd spent his nights with Alys and his days with a mad king.

The place was nearly barren now, save Barristan who'd returned to it's quarters as Lord Commander.

But that was recent. Up until Barristan renewed his own vows this tower was empty, all its former occupants dead or displaced.

Jaime didn't even know what really happened to three of his former brothers. Just that they were dead by Ned Starks hand apparently.

Died in a desert far from their king or prince.

And for what?

A vow made to protect a royal line that was now all but gone save for one little girl who was renamed and to be sent to freeze in the north.

A vow made also by Jaime only to betray it with a bloody sword through a raving madman to save a city from his destruction.

Jaime stares at the door, thinks of the vow, and feels his blood burn with different tangled feelings until it boils and bursts and he pulls his sword and hits it hard against the wood until splinters it into looking how he feels.

Then he turns once more and walks the halls well through dinner and into the evening.

It helped, marginally, hitting that door. But he thinks that perhaps he should find his way to Alys's room as the evening shifts towards night, potential consequences be damned. He needs to at least be presentably capable tomorrow for the wedding, and a restful sleep beside Alys would help. If only to get some comfort as she often is quick to give when he's torn over stupid thoughts of vows and feelings. He can only imagine how she'd settle the flame of bitter turmoil within him with simple a gentle hand and soft understanding eyes of grey snow that cushion and cool the fire until it's gone.

But then a sharp hand grabs his arm, severing his thoughts of Alys as he nearly swings his sword again only for his hand to stop on his hilt at the sight of Cersei pulling him into a darkened hall.

"There you are," she hisses in a light accusatory tone despite a heated smile to her face. "I've been searching all over for you." Her voice is low, pulling and wanting underneath the slight tone of vexation.

"Shouldn't you be preparing for your full day of vows and marriage and Robert Baratheon tomorrow?" He asks, his voice still sharp like the splinters of wood he'd sent flying from the door of the tower. "You'll want to be well rested." His voice is petty, but he can hardly care for it over the burning feeling of jealousy in the pit of his stomach at even the thought of what was coming tomorrow.

Cersei simply rolls her eyes at his tone, "I do want that, but I also want you in my room helping me with it." Then she continues on with her previous tone of accusation like he had messed up some plan they'd had, "You weren't at dinner, luckily Tyrion covered for you and father was too busy to really care. I on the other hand did care, as it was the more opportune time to sneak back to my rooms together. But now I'd had to sneak out and wander half the damned keep looking for you."

They eventually make it to her rooms, and he's unsurprised to find the guards that had likely been posted gone. Cersei was ever skilled at getting her way, and if she asked them or paid them Jaime wasn't sure, but they were gone and he walked easily and freely beside her into the room into the first real moment of solitude before them.

It did little to quell the fire burning him low. But it was something, and in tandem with Cersei's hands upon him he found little desire to put it out at all.

He felt rather the opposite, felt it fanning it higher and hotter, especially when his eyes caught sight of her maiden's cloak draped out near the hearth. A harsh reminder of how she'd be removing that tomorrow, how she'd be donning one of gold and black and stags. A harsher reminder as she pulled him closer towards her bed, hands spreading further under his shirt of who she'd be spending tomorrow with.

"Jaime," her voice is sharp now, impatient, and he meets her eyes to find their green severity looking his way with something akin to anger sparking through them. "Are you going to waste this opportunity too?" she asks harkening back to the day of Roberts coronation, "or are you going to join me and enjoy it?" She stares at him, challenge glinting in her eyes, "or will Robert be the first to touch me in years? With you a distant memory?"

All his warring thoughts leave him, shoved away in favor of focus upon Cersei, upon his twin his mirror and his other half. He doesn't respond with words, choosing instead to grab her as harshly as he needs and toss her back into her bed. She gasps, sharp and aroused as he descends upon her.

And she pulls at him, letting him descend fully into her and her alone.

Forcing him to leave behind any and all thoughts that were not her, not this. Thoughts of vows, of his future or hers. Of Robert, and Oberyn, of Alys and it all.

And he needed it. Needed Cersei, his twin, his mirror, his other half that had always been there since they left their mother together with his hand gripping her ankle on the way out.

He needed her.

And she needed him, or wanted, though it made little difference as she bit and kissed and flipped him over so she loomed over him.

She needed, and she took as he could always trust her to do. Grabbing and pulling and kissing all of him. Pulling him in and pushing him down. Towering over him and taking everything that Jaime had to give.

She took his mouth, his body, his soul. And he gave it. Needed it for all he knew.

Until it was all spent, and she was there over him. His mirror, a hand grazing down his jaw with possessive and heavy want still glinting in emerald green eyes.

He gave and he gave and he gave.

And in the end he collapsed beside her and slept with the feeling of fire beneath his skin.

Thank you for reading!

Sorry about the long wait, the beginning of the year always seems to sap away all creativity but I'm getting back in the groove and this ended up becoming the new longest chapter of the fic! So I hope you all enjoy it!

Thank you as always for any and all comments you guys leave, it always makes my day to hear what you think of my writing and story!