JAIME
Jaime turned the corner, and nearly toppled over the girl. After the conversations he'd had with Cersei and his father, he was nearly at wits end. But when the girl looked up at him, they both froze. Even with the red-gold hair, it took only a moment for Jaime to place her. She still had the look about her, even in Tyrell green with a golden rose pin in her hair. Rhaella's daughter come home.
Jaime grabbed her by the wrist before she could speak and led her down the hall. When they reached the White Sword Tower, he turned to get a look at her. She wasn't scared; in fact, she wasn't much of anything. He'd seen that look before, in purple eyes just like hers. Resignation. "I believe you had a beard the last I saw you," she said.
He held up his stump. "And two hands as well."
Amina's jaw dropped a little. "I'm sorry."
"You've lost more than me," he reminded her. Still her eyes remained empty. "They said you died with the rest."
"I did," she said. Jaime could believe it, she looked half a ghost and half the Lady Stark who had raised her. This was not the girl who had burst into his cell and threatened to pour broth on his face, this was not the little queen with the dragon's temper.
He could only think of Rhaella. Of the way he'd stood outside the door while King Aerys had made her cry, and the bruises and the burns Aerys left her with. The way she'd stared vacantly into the sunset when her ship had left for Dragonstone, never once turning back toward the castle. If Rhaella could see her daughter now, would she weep? Or did she know? She had always seemed to know, and yet no one listened.
Amina stood there, with her mother's eyes, and he wondered if she had the same dreams Rhaella did. Jaime motioned for her to sit. "I haven't eaten a proper meal in weeks. Join me?"
The girl shrugged and took a seat. Even sulking and dressed like someone she was not; Amina still found a way to appear at home in his Lord Commander's chambers. She looks more at ease here than I feel, Jaime realized humorlessly.
They sat in silence until their meal arrived: potted hare, cheese and onion pie, some brothy soup, and fig tarts dipped in honey. Amina pinched a tart between two fingers and took a delicate bite. She closed her eyes for a moment before sticking the rest in her mouth whole. It was the first thing she'd done that reminded him of the girl he'd met at Winterfell. Jaime poured them each wine, and cut into the pie, releasing a scent that made his stomach rumble.
Amina raised an eyebrow but took the proffered goblet. "What happened to your hand?" She asked finally.
"Vargo Hoat," Jaime said simply. Amina didn't ask for elaboration, so Jaime didn't offer it. He did not want to relive those days again.
"Two Lannister boys were killed because Catelyn let you go," she said quietly. "Did you know?" Jaime sat his fork down and took a sip of his own wine. The boys had been cousins, younger sons of Kevan and Genna. Jaime couldn't remember their names.
"Lord Karstark died for that," Amina continued. "Even now I can't fault Robb that decision. Rickard sealed his own fate." She let out a short sigh. "I can't fault Rickard for wanting revenge either. Grief addles the mind."
"You wish Lady Stark hadn't let me go, is that it? If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have lost the Karstarks. You wouldn't have lost the war," Jaime challenged. "If you want to blame me for it all, be my guest." He'd taken the blame for much worse.
Amina stared intently at her plate. The minutes seemed to drag on before she spoke. "I wish I could, but we didn't need the Karstarks," she admitted. "We needed the Freys. It was me who drove them right into your father's hands."
"Amina…" Jaime trailed off. He'd heard enough to know the sequence of events. Robb had spurned the Freys to marry Amina, then made an attempt at peace. The Freys had lured them into a trap and killed them all at Edmure Tully's wedding. The Bolton's had participated with a Lannister blessing. Jaime wondered if Amina knew of the Bolton's involvement. If she knew how deep the betrayal went. Maybe if she did, she wouldn't shoulder all the guilt herself. The Boltons were always going to turn their backs on the Starks, and Walder Frey needed only the smallest push.
Across from him, Amina filled her goblet to the brim. "One day, I will put a blade through Roose Bolton's heart." Then again, maybe she was well aware. Amina returned to her plate, and they lapsed into silence.
Guilt was a curious thing. No matter how much evidence to the contrary, guilt would always point a finger back at you.
When they'd finished their meal, or as much of it as either of them could stomach, Jamie had left Amina to see about Tyrion and the disgrace Cersei had made of his brothers in white. When he returned, Amina had made herself at home.
She was sitting by the window, legs draped over the arm of her chair. A flagon of wine sat at her feet; half empty from the way she lifted it easily with one hand. She offered him a full glass, but he waved it away. He had asked about her, Desmera. Everyone had said the same: she was lovely, kind, always smiling, Margaery's favorite. Since he'd found her, she'd been none of those things.
"People will wonder where you are," he warned her. "You're meant to be Margaery's lady, her dear cousin." Amina shot him a scalding look. "We've looked for Sansa, but there's been no word of her. Has she contacted you?"
"No," came her curt reply. "And if she had, I wouldn't tell you. I wish I'd poisoned the boy myself for the things he did to her. But Sansa wouldn't have, even beaten she was sweet."
Her words sparked his temper. Jaime grabbed her under the arm and pulled her out of the chair. Amina stumbled to her feet. He dragged her in front of the mirror. Her hair seemed duller now, more brown than red. She looked almost common, less like a Tully and not at all like the Beldish girl she'd once pretended to be. "What would Robb Stark say if he could see you now?"
"He would say he broke a promise, he would say but at least I'm alive." Amina all but spat the words. "I killed him, I killed them all." She whirled on him suddenly. "Do you think you're Gods cursed, Jaime? For killing your king, for loving your sister?" Amina gave him no time to answer. "Love is a curse." Then she was crying, angry tears.
Jaime let her go and sank into the chair he'd pulled her out of, too exhausted to fight her now. Amina followed, but only to pick up her wine. He snatched the flagon away before she could reach it, and the motion threw her off balance. Amina stumbled into his lap, and instead of leaping away she lay her head on his chest. "I want to go home."
He held her gently, at any moment she would realize who's arms she'd fallen into and pull away. But the moments passed, and Amina stayed. "I'm not going let you drink yourself to death," he cautioned. "You were meant for more than that."
Amina's shoulder's shook in a sob. Her words came out as a whisper, "They poisoned my child." Jaime stilled. "It wasn't enough to kill them all, they had to take everything I had."
Tywin had done that; his father had done that. Jaime had never questioned if the atrocities the Mountain visited upon Elia Martell and her children had been at Tywin's order. He did now. What sort of man ordered the rape and murder of women and children? What sort of man ordered a child poisoned in the womb?
"I'm not going to let you drink yourself to death," he repeated with more conviction. Amina tightened her arms around his neck as if he were a raft and she were drowning at sea. Jaime found his own arms wrapping around her, holding her close.
What had they done to help her? Ser Caswell, Margaery Tyrell, the ones who'd known the truth. Amina was broken, and instead of putting her back together, they'd swept the pieces under the rug. All he could see when he looked at her was Rhaella.
Jaime had been one of those people to turn a blind eye to his Queen's pain. He had sat by while Rhaella had withered away in front of them. He would not do that again.
When the summons came from Cersei, Jaime was surprised. Days had passed since their meeting in the sept, and she had done her best to avoid being alone with him since.
But when he stepped through the door into Cersei's solar, he discovered they were not, in fact, alone. Amina said at the table, her back as straight as an arrow. Seven Hells.
"Ah, Lady Desmera, what a surprise," Jaime said, attempting to flatten his tone into one of nonchalance. Amina fixed him with an unreadable look. Then she flashed a smile that as all show. There was no trace of the genuine lightness he'd once seen in Winterfell.
"I was rather surprised to find myself here as well," she said, looking back to Cersei with a cooler smile. Amina's hair was newly dyed and gleamed red-gold once more. She wore an azure dress slashed with burgundy; her disguise once again complete.
Cersei looked between them with a feline gaze. Jaime did not like the looks of this one bit. "Oh, don't be so modest, my dear. We all know where you've been spending your time these past days." She raised one perfect eyebrow and flicked her attention toward Jaime. "Do join us, brother."
Jaime sat cautiously at the table. Amina's fingers tapped her goblet methodically. It was the same gesture she'd done on her knife belt when she'd confronted him in Riverrun's cells. Jaime looked at his sister, marveling at how well matched she had found herself.
Amina tilted her head. "I'm honored to know my comings and goings have caught your interest, your grace. I would have thought the trial would be consuming your time," she paused before adding, "and the mourning." It was a low blow, but he was sure Amina knew exactly where it would land.
Cersei's eyes narrowed slightly. "My dear brother has been held captive and maimed, of course I have kept an eye on White Sword Tower."
"Have you seen the Lord Commander's suites, your grace?" Amina asked, sipping from her goblet. "The view is lovely; one can see all the way to the sea." If it were anyone else before him, Jaime might have been amused, but he was far too apprehensive for that now.
Cersei smiled, though Jaime was under no pretenses there was anything genuine about it. "I'm pleased to hear you appreciate a good view. You'll take to the Rock nicely."
"The Rock," Jaime repeated, dumbly. This purpose of this surprising meeting began to fall into place.
"Don't look so surprised, Jaime. You are our father's heir. He wants you back home, released from your vows, and married to a fitting bride." Cersei swept a hand toward Amina as if to illustrate her point.
Amina's fingers stilled on her goblet, the only sign of her own surprise. "Has my father heard of this?"
"If he hasn't, he will be soon," Cersei replied, before turning her attentions back to Jaime. "Really, Jaime, you've walked right into a corner. Barely back for a week, and already causing a scandal?"
Jaime didn't bother to ask how the topic of his bedwarmers had usurped the impending trial for regicide. If Cersei wanted something known, it would be. All this to spite him for daring to consider a future where they didn't have to hide. Amina was nothing but a causality of Cersei's vindictiveness, which only made it worse. A fitting bride. If Cersei knew the girl she had caught in this scheme…
Amina sat her goblet on the table definitively. "Well, this is a rather unorthodox way to announce a betrothal." She pushed back from the table and rose. "It was lovely to speak with you, your grace. But I must be seeing my grandmother now."
Amina curtsied to Cersei with all the grace of a lady of the court and left the room without another look. Jaime gave his sister withering look, and she returned it with a smile. "Really, Jaime. Desmera Redwyne?"
Jaime didn't bother to answer, just shook his head and followed Amina into the hall. She was waiting by the window, looking down on the gardens below. As he neared, she began walking and did not stop until they had reached White Sword Tower.
Jaime hastily begun an apology. "I promise you I had no idea."
Amina pressed two fingers to each of her temples and closed her eyes. "Margaery and Aylward will be livid. Paxter will hear about this, not even Olenna can keep your sister from seeing to that. I'm finished here, I can't stay."
She walked to the balcony and leaned on the rail, looking down at the city below. "You could," Jaime said before he could stop himself.
Amina laughed, a single sharp sound. "Have you forgotten? I am not Desmera Redwyne."
"Beldain is worth as much as the Arbor, and a Stark widow is certainly worth more than a Redwyne." He wasn't sure what he was trying to convince them of, or why. Jaime joined her on the balcony. She didn't so much as spare him a look.
"Tywin Lannister has already tried to kill me once; I do not intend to let him try again."
"He wouldn't lay a hand on you," Jaime said confidently. "Not if you were my wife."
Amina turned to face him. "You don't want to marry me, Jaime. You don't want Casterly Rock." She gathered a fistful of his white cloak. "You want this gods forsaken cloak."
Jaime held up his stump. "Maybe Tywin is right, maybe I should give it up. Maybe I'm naïve to believe I could ever be the person I was before. I can't even swing a sword. Mace Tyrell's fool could best me in a fight."
Amina's brow furrowed. "You are more than your sword, Jaime Lannister. Don't ever let them convince you of that."
Jaime felt as if she'd punched him in the gut. He hadn't realized just how much he needed to hear those words until she'd said them. Amina seemed to understand this and put her hand atop his on the railing. She squeezed his fingers lightly.
As long as he'd been at court, rumors had followed, but he'd always known the truth. Now, the rumors were the truth. He was useless with his left hand, and his brothers knew it. They were only a hairsbreadth away from deeming him replaceable. But who were they to make that choice for him? Green boys, disgraced knights, and men of dubious pedigree.
If Tywin wanted this cloak stripped, he would have to do more than allow Cersei to stir up lies into a scandal. Aerys had forced this cloak upon his shoulders, and damned if he would have someone else force it off.
Jaime flashed Amina a smile. "Are you sure you don't want to be my wife?"
"Ask me that when Cersei hasn't just kicked you out of her bed," Amina said with a smirk.
He laughed. "Fair enough."