It felt good to finally have their wounds cleansed and dressed, a hot meal in their bellies and some warm, clean clothes to change into. Jaime felt as though he'd done nothing but stare at her since he'd returned to their chambers. His side adequately bandaged and washed of any lingering dirt, courtesy of Sam's healing hands.

It had been a case of ushering her back into the room and taking Jaime out, their presence remaining to a minimum. Cersei was in the bathtub, tiny in comparison to the one they'd encountered at Highgarden, but it was a tub nonetheless and right now beggars could not be choosers. Her gaze was so distant, her cloth-wrapped arms clinging to either side of the cold, cast iron, claw-footed tub whilst the rest of her was submerged in the warm and soothing water. Having settled himself silently at the side of where she soaked, he placed his hand atop hers. The sad glint in her eyes mimicked that of a twinkling star, high up in the black of the night sky. Cold and distant, lacking any form of warmth. His small act of comfort rattled her from her overwhelming thoughts, the green of her eyes lost against a sea of pale skin, landing on his concerned face.

"You didn't tell me you'd had night terrors?" He eased into the conversation, Sam's words on his sister's wellbeing were weighing heavy on his mind. He'd spoken briefly - with a hint of restraint, Jaime had noted - of Cersei's trouble sleeping.

"Because I'm not an infant." She recoiled from his touch, their uninterrupted stare breaking. "They're just nightmares." She defended. "They don't mean anything." Her words were spoken gently, despite her frustration.

"Is this what we're doing now? Jut keeping secrets from one another?" He pushed on relentlessly, growing frustrated.

"I don't know, you tell me." Her gaze flickered to his face, a burning anger simmering behind her eyes.

He sighed inwardly at the not so discreet referral to the Brienne situation again. Trying to initiate contact once more, he reached for her forearm but yet again, she moved away from his keen desire to touch her. With every ounce of determination, she continued to brush him off. His touch was all she craved right now, for him to hold her close and tell her it would be okay. His fingers tangled in her hair, his chin resting on her head as he quieted her cries. The same way he'd soothed her moments before the Red Keep fell, when she was so certain they were about to die couldn't help but wish they had died that day. There was an overwhelming sadness taking her and she could feel herself succumbing to its wrath, little by little each day she buckled beneath the weight of her grief. Alas, paranoia was a cruel and unwanted guest within her own mind. The woodland witch still echoing her prophetic sentences day and night, warping her sadness into rage.

Until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.

The same few words kept circling in her darkening thoughts. Thus far, everything the witch said had come true, so why should her demise be any different? Over the years she'd mistaken many girls and women for this younger, more beautiful individual. It was almost as if she'd spent her whole life just waiting for her to saunter in and cast her down. Perhaps this was finally it. Figuratively speaking, Brienne was not more beautiful but she had managed to lead her brother astray for the first time in his life. All other women were invisible to him, they couldn't even turn his head yet this giant woman had somehow caught his attention, how? Surely not inner beauty? This was something she'd never even considered before but since reaching Horn Hill she hadn't been able to shake it from her thoughts. Jaime was changed, whether the trauma from seeing the things he'd seen in battle had altered him or his time in the North with the undead had perhaps had some deep-rooted effect on him, he wasn't the same man he'd been before Joffrey became king. That Jaime would never have betrayed her, he'd never have let this happen, he'd never have walked them willingly into imprisonment.

"Cersei?" He repeated in an attempt to rattle her from her stewing mind, unaware of her disturbing inner thoughts. "Something has been bothering you, what is it? You've never held your tongue around me before, why now?" He felt his gut wrench suddenly at the pain behind her once fiery green gaze when she finally turned and looked at him as though he was stupid.

"Look at us, Jaime." She whispered irately, her brows accentuating her growing frustration at their current circumstances. She was answering him but seemed as though she was speaking to herself. "Lions of Casterly Rock." She scoffed. "If father could see us now-"

"He can't. He's dead and we're not. We survived." He interrupted loudly with a minor eye-roll, drowning out her whispers. Brienne's words were still weighing heavy on his mind, he knew he was fighting an uphill battle with his sister. She was never going to settle down in a modest little homestead and raise their child like some peasant. It was an unachievable outcome that he was desperately fighting for. Regardless, he wasn't going to give up without a fight. "I know you're frustrated and there's no end to this in sight yet but we just have to take things one day at a time." Reaching to stroke her cheek he felt the final punch of her anger hit him in the gut as she moved away from his loving gesture. A look of complete disgust on her face, her eyes remained averted, just looking down at the greying bath water as it started to become unpleasantly cold. Despite what she might say, he wasn't stupid. He could take a hint as obvious as that one. Getting to his feet cautiously, he left the room with a defeated and tired posture.


He watched her sleep for hours that night, despite their icy behaviour towards one another they still lay side by side. Her chest rising and falling calmly beneath the satin bed sheets. The essence of nightshade had done the trick quite nicely, rest found her quickly once she lay her head down. They were laying face to face, his hand smoothing over hers on the pillow by her head once she'd drifted off and could no longer recede from him. All of her troubles disappearing as she snoozed gently. The events of the day wouldn't shake from Jaime's thoughts, he really believed they'd lost their babe, moving his gaze down to her bump nestled under the sheets he felt himself smiling into his own pillow. The idea of being a father again excited him this time, perhaps because he would get to be there for them properly, through thick and thin as opposed to watching another man stand in as their male parent. This one would be his to dote on, love and protect with every fierce bone in his body. He wondered if Cersei's motherly intuition was right and she was indeed carrying a girl. And if she was, would she look as sweet and delicate as Myrcella had when she was born? Every bit of Cersei's beauty had been mirrored in their only daughter, right up until the moment she'd died in his arms.

That memory haunted him daily. He could sometimes still feel the warmth and weight of her body in his grasp, cradling her during her final moments, the way Cersei had cradled her during her first breaths. Fixing his gaze back on her stilled face as she slept, he silently begged the Gods to let this babe live. Losing another child would surely push his twin over the edge, he wasn't certain how much more loss she could deal with in one life time. The death of a fifth child would be the end of her. His fingertips found the side of her face, tracing the contour of her cheekbone and jaw lightly so as not to disturb her.

He would truly die for her.

If all went as Tyrion had predicted, hopefully there would be no need for him to die on her behalf. He wanted to raise his family, see his child grow up. At the back of his skull, Brienne's words were still festering away in the darkness. No matter how hard he tried to silence them, they would not be hushed. Cersei wasn't made for that type of life, peasantry and struggle were things she despised. She would fade in such an environment, he feared. He wondered if a babe would make it any easier but her overwhelming desire for power made him doubt her happiness in a simple life.

But that was the only possible life now, otherwise it was death.


Sam had kept to his word, checking in on her morning and night every day so far. With each rising sun, she seemed stronger and in much better health. It had been four days since they'd arrived, enough time for them to rest, recover and catch up to their own bodies in the quiet comfort of their quarters. Now, the days were starting to seem longer and the nights more restless with their growing concerns for what would happen next. A staleness creeping into the room and swallowing all hope of Jaime's envisioned life.

Eating silently at the table, he found himself looking at her as she stood at the window. She was right, to some degree. Lions of Casterly Rock they had once been, yet here they were. Imprisoned. Their fate in another's hands as they sat back and just let it happen. Once upon a time nobody would dare treat them in such a way, for the wrath of Tywin was something to be feared, especially where the Lannister name was concerned. The legacy he had protected until the day Tyrion fired a crossbow into his chest.

His precious legacy died along with him that day.

"He's not going to do it, is he?" Her words startled him slightly, they were faint and spoken into the outside air as it filtered into the room. She often stood at the opened window, tasting freedom. Jaime frowned, setting his spoon back into the empty bowl before lounging back in his chair.

"Who?"

"Snow, he doesn't have it in him to kill her." They'd barely spoken since their first night at Horn Hill, their interactions minimal despite being in one another's company for the entirety of their stay so far.

Turning back to look at him, she kept their eye contact brief, as if she could barely stand to look at him. His betrayal had maimed her like a drawn out knife wound, the tip piercing her skin lightly at first before deepening at the most gradual pace. Her intrusive thoughts twisting around the metal of the blade like an unruly vine, tangling around the sheath and pulling it into her chest, deeper and deeper until finally it reached her heart. Her own paranoia cutting her. She was blind to all logical reason now, the notion had embedded itself. The fact that he was angry, far from home and had somehow managed to cheat death didn't factor into her conclusion as to why he'd betrayed her.

"His newfound identity won't rinse away his Stark principles, they'll cling to him as stench does to death. He won't abandon them, he's too honourable for that." She continued with a grimace, as though it was a weakness, her tongue wrapping around each eloquently spoken word. "When the time comes, he'll falter. Killing her will go against everything he's ever been taught." Finally locking her gaze with his again she saw the same demeanour reflected back at her. He doubted this new, rightful heir too. "Do you remember how Ned Stark treated you after you killed the Mad King? The same King that murdered Brandon and Rickon Stark, his own father and brother. Snow may only be Stark by half but asking him to murder his own queen?" She let an ill-humoured laugh briefly pass her plump lips. "I doubt he could bring himself to bury his sword in her chest if she'd burned his brothers and sisters alive." The contempt in her gaze was unnerving Jaime slightly, being caged in like this was darkening her by the day.

"Perhaps we shouldn't be too quick to doubt him, he might surprise us the way his siblings have. I pushed one from a tower window and now he has more power than the pair of us combined despite being a cripple." Still leaning back, he entertained her speech to try and pinpoint where exactly she was going with this. "And look at Sansa. She's turned out to be quite the Northern ruler, despite the cruelty and hardship she suffered at the hands of Joffrey. And the smaller one, what was her name? Arya? The one who killed the Night King. The Starks should never be underestimated." Watching her face harden, he knew he was treading on thin ice with his chosen topic. "It was strange, watching Sansa." He paused. "Her mouth would move but it was your words leaving her lips when giving orders."

"She managed to take something from her time spent in the capital then, she's not as stupid as I'd first thought. It took her a while but she finally caught on."

"You say that is if you were priming her for the role." Jaime scoffed. "Like you hand-reared that timid little child and turned her into a formidable leader not entirely unlike yourself." Sitting forward, he poured himself a drink. After all, there was little else to do during the day, why not drink?

"And would that be so shocking to you?" Her tone lightened, entertained by his surprise. "When I first met her I was reminded of myself at her age-"

"Please," He interrupted with a laugh, unaware she was being entirely serious. "You'd had serving girls tortured before you even turned ten years old, that little bird of a girl was more innocent at that age than you were at the age of four." Taking a mouthful from his cup, he looked up at her and his face stilled before wiping his mouth. "You're being serious?"

"No," She breathed with a false smile. "Because our lives are oh so funny at the moment, I can barely refrain from making jokes, Jaime." The insincere smirk disappeared quickly, her sarcasm rubbing him the wrong way. He needed to get out of this room, they both did. "She was young, naive and positively pining for a prince. It's all she'd ever wanted and it turned into her biggest nightmare." She glanced down at her feet, likening Sansa's desire to marry a prince to her own childhood dream of marrying Rhaegar Targaryen, before Robert destroyed all possibility of that. Her weaknesses were seldom shown in the presence of others but with her brother she never felt the need to guard herself. However, at this moment, he could see she was shielding herself from him. "I shared what womanly wisdom I could with her, how she chose to interpret that was entirely up to her." Her green gaze met his once more. "And she survived didn't she? I heard she even killed her husband." The latter of her sentence was whispered with a pleased look on her delicate features.

"And I suppose that's all down to you?" The question itself was intended to stroke his sister's grandiose sense of power but the dubious tone of his voice diminished its meaning. "All along you were helping her? Teaching her?"

"Think what you will but you weren't there, were you?" She hissed back softly. Before their exchange could escalate, they heard keys clinking in the hallway as the door unlocked and opened swiftly. Both had expected the tall, blonde knight to enter but to their surprise it was Sam.

"Hope I'm not intruding." He babbled straight away, ignoring the fact that they were comfortably being held hostage in his family home. "I've more towels and fresh clothes for you both-"

"Forget the fresh fucking linens, can we venture outdoors during our sentence here? We've been cooped up for nearly five days now, I've had my fair share of captivity with the Starks." Jaime stood up from his chair as he spoke, his frame positively towering over the nervous grand-maester-in-the-making.

"My apologies, but I was told to keep you in here until it was safe-"

"Safe for who? Nobody knows we're even alive!"

"Safe for everyone." He finally managed to stutter his words out, his chubby face wobbling as he stared up at the frustrated lion before him. "If she gets wind of you being here, under our protection, it's not just you two she'll have burned alive. It's my mother, my sister, Gilly, little Sam and our unborn child!" Packing a punch to his words now, he suddenly let his own frustration be heard before panting upon finishing his outburst. "I won't risk it." He said, more calmly now. "So until Jon takes that throne, you're staying under this roof."

"I've seen her dragon circling, it's been a week since we left Highgarden. It should have been done by now." Her voice was considerably softer than her twin's, her face less angered as she approached the Tarly boy slowly. "What happens if he doesn't do it? You know Snow better than anyone, I would imagine, you took your vows together. You survived awful things together, do you think he'll be able to do it?"

"I have every bit of faith in Jon." For the first time, Sam's words were said so confidently it was as if somebody else had uttered them. He was that confident in Jon, he could say it without stammering. "He'll do the right thing, no matter how hard it is, how much it'll hurt-"

"He loves her." She interrupted softly. "I saw the way he looked at her in the dragon pit that day, like a keen young pup." She smiled, as if reminiscing about experiencing that feeling for the first time. She felt it every time Jaime had beaten someone in a tourney. When he'd remove his lion head helm and shake his sweat-soaked, golden mane from side to side under the sun. Her golden lion. That warm recollection faded quickly as Brienne entered the room.

"Lord Tarly-" She halted her sentence for a brief second, her gaze moving from Cersei to Jaime before averting her gaze and clearing her throat to continue. "Lord-"

"Please, I've told you already, just call me Sam. I'm not a lord." He blinked, turning to face her. "What is it?"

"It's your mother, she wishes to see you right away."

"I won't be a moment." He raised his palm, signalling for her to leave and she did so, allowing him to turn his attention back to the twins. "I understand you're both frustrated, believe me, I do." His eyes danced between the pair of them as a sympathetic expression ran over his facial features. "Jon knows what it is he must do but at the same time it's going to destroy him to do it. You could never understand the torment-"

"Tell us what we don't understand." Jaime argued, had he the fur coat of a lion his hackles would have been raised from shoulders to the tail of his spine. "The torment of what? Killing a loved one? Losing a loved one?" He stepped closer to Sam, his green eyes swimming with pain and anguish delicately blended together despite their dangers. "Our father is dead, our mother is dead, all three of our children are dead." He continued moving closer until he was staring down at the shorter, rounder man. "Everything I do is for Cersei, everyone I've killed has been for Cersei and everything I continue to do will be for Cersei." His voice wavered slightly, his chest begging his mouth to stop moving but he couldn't force it back down. "I held my own daughter as she died in my arms. She didn't know who I was, who I truly was to her until moments before she took her last breath." He bit his teeth together behind his lips. "Do you know what she said to me before the poison took hold and she bled from every opening in her body?" The silence in the room only exaggerated his low tone, it was dancing on the edge of being a whisper. "She told me she was glad that I was her father." He looked to be painfully holding back every ounce of emotion he was feeling, behind him Cersei's gaze upon her brother's back softened. The anger she felt towards him melted away like winter ice under the rays of a summer sun. "And then she was gone. Taken from us." Only anger entertained his tone now. "I love my sister, the bloodshed that follows that pure and simple fact will never be outweighed by your friend's love for his queen, so don't speak to me of understanding torment when we've lived our entire lives together in exactly that. Until you've watched the light leave your child's eyes, you won't know what torment is."

"You're right, I don't know what that feels like and I hope I'll never have to know that pain." Sam agreed softly after seconds of silence, the two before him had seen and done horrific things in their time, a majority of which were done to protect their family. Having his own young family now, he couldn't berate their choices and actions because he'd do anything for Gilly and young Sam, love makes people do crazy things apparently. "When Jon takes that throne, I won't have to worry about my family and their safety and nor will you. He's a man of his word, he will not go back on it. He will do it, I swear my own life on that."

Sam left the room shortly after his closing statement, one that was tinged with faith and promise yet the twins held but little hope for their future. Cersei had been quiet following Jaime's heartfelt and eloquently spoken truths. She didn't know any about any of the details he'd just shared, how their daughter had recognised her father. Plainly, she had no idea he was hurting so much, her anger had taken hold over the last few days. Isolating her from him, the only person she had left.

"She was always smarter than Joffrey." She offered him the smallest of brief, sad smiles as he turned to look at her over his shoulder. His stance was back to normal now, no longer hanging to one side in an attempt to nurse his wound pain. "She was quiet and observant, I always knew she'd be the one to work it out."

"Either way, it doesn't matter now, does it?" The despondence in his voice shattered her endeavour to soothe him after days of only hostility between herself and her embellished ideas of his betrayal. Ignoring her anger, she couldn't lose him too. She couldn't bear it. "She's dead, they all are."

"Not all of them." She purred softly, advancing towards him with her right palm softly on her middle. She didn't have to fight too hard for his eye contact the way he had with her earlier. He'd starved for it, the relief in his expression was as clear as day when he finally had her close. "We still have two." Whispering softly, she observed as he recoiled in shock. He was silent but his darting eyes asked a thousand questions at once, his jaw slack as though he wanted to speak but couldn't muster a sound. It was then that she saw hope and fight returning to his fiery gaze.

"Twins?" He finally breathed, his good hand taking her by the hip as he was overcome with the revelation. The moment he'd pulled her closer to his body, she'd placed her hands on his sides, letting go of her anger the best she could. She nodded gently, his forehead nuzzling into hers as she did so. Listening to reason was an extremely rare occurrence for her but she had to now, to save herself from her own mind. Jaime was here, with her, his loyalty and devotion even more unshakable than before. That's all that mattered. "If I could bring you her head, I would. And the heart of her dragon too-"

"I know." Reassuring him, she moved her right hand from his waist to his jaw as she revelled in their closeness. His breathing was fast, the passion he held for her consuming him entirely with the news of not one but two lives growing within her.

"As soon as she's dead, we'll leave Westeros." He promised in one breath. "You, me and our babes. We'll cross the Narrow Sea and you'll have the life you deserve, no pain, no suffering, no fear. We'll take back what is ours and start somewhere new, we'll build our own legacy and regain our strength and power." His words of promise were erotic in deliverance, breathy and hot as he made these vows to her. "Our children will never know hurt or torment as we have." His lips rushed at hers, no fight between them now, just burning desire. She invited his tongue into her mouth hungrily, every part of her body ached for him. The Us against the World speeches always made her weak, her knees buckling at the sheer rage behind his tongue lashing. His revisited pain had ignited a spark within him.

His roar had returned.

He was a Lion of Casterly Rock, nobody threatened his kin and got away with it.