This chapter starts a few months after the rebellion. There's a POD that occurred before the rebellion that I've mentioned here. Let's see who can figure it out in the comments

Jaime I

Jaime laughed, but the sound was as cruel as his fate. All his life, Cersei and he had tried to be together. When he was twelve, he stayed in the West while Cersei came to King's Landing. When he was fifteen and became a Kingsguard, he stayed in King's Landing and Cersei left for the West. Now that she was to return to the capital, he would once again have to go west. The gods, if there were any, seemed to delight in separating them the harder they tried to stay together.

"King Robert—or more likely his Hand—has finally decided to make Cersei the new queen," his father continued as if he hadn't heard him. He had, Jaime knew. Father always hears everything. Except me and Cersei. "You will go stay in King's Landing with me till the wedding. After that, you will accompany me to Casterly Rock. It is about time that you should wed."

With him wedded and bedded Robert could not change his mind as easily. And perhaps father hoped for him to sire an heir as well, anything to keep Tyrion away from the lordship of the Westerlands. Anything except re-marrying.

I won't do it. I will stay in King's Landing where I belong. The only womb my child will quicken in will be Cersei's. Jaime did not say any of this out loud for his father's reach extended to the Kingsguard now as well. When he was done, Jaime pleaded fatigue and left, not to the White Sword Tower or the apartments provided to the Lannisters but to the Tower of the Hand.

Lord Arryn's solar was unwisely unguarded and as he was about to enter he heard two voices—the forceful tones of the new king and the calm answering ones of Jon Arryn.

"—she is everything I do not want in a wife, Jon. A list of all the reasons I chose Lyanna instead of a vassal's daughter."

"Lady Cersei is very beautiful, Robert. I have heard her referred to as the 'Jewel of Casterly Rock' and the 'Sun in the West'. I do recall you caring about these things in the past." Those names were almost certainly fabrications for he'd never heard her be called such before. Whose though? Arryn's, father's, or Cersei's own?

"The 'Sun in the West' can stay in the west. All that beauty is good for a night of passion and fun as I used to have in the Vale. I want something more than that from someone I must spend my life with." Jaime gripped the pommel of his sword, the familiar texture calming him as it used to whenever Aerys held court. How dare Robert Baratheon, the ungrateful cur, throw away what he desired with all his heart?

"Then what do you want, Robert?" Arryn sighed, sounding as if he hadn't slept in millennia.

"I want Lyanna! I wanted someone who was more than the bootlickers infesting Storm's End." Robert's voice lowered and it seemed to Jaime that he was saying something he had never said to anyone before. "I do not care much for riding but I planned to learn to, for her. Just as she would learn to enjoy hunting, for me. She always beat me, the few times we had a race. I didn't like losing then but I would give all the gold in Casterly Rock to once again be able to ride behind her as she rode. Her hair always flew behind her when she did—she said it was because it fell open by itself but I saw her loose the ribbon once—and she would try to cover up her joy at winning but some of her beautiful laugh always escaped."

He heard some clothes shifting—Arryn getting up from his seat—and stepped back, walking down a flight of stairs. He would get less and nothing from them if he was discovered eavesdropping. After a few moments, he noisily made his way up, a fact that made the warrior in him uncomfortable. He relied on being swift and silent both, on the battlefields and outside them.

Robert sat on Arryn's side, looking so different from the day in the throne room that he almost didn't recognise him. Gone was the forceful and passionate way he had done everything, gone was the purpose surging beneath his muscles. The king slouched in his chair, his cup filled with wine; a far cry from the man who sat the Iron Throne and congratulated him for killing the Mad King. He looked like it wasn't his first cup in this hour alone. Jaime did not dwell on the Baratheon's grief. He will have Cersei to tend to his hurts soon enough, he acerbity thought.

"Your Grace, I have come to ask a boon of you."

"Rather straightforward of you," Robert remarked, disinterested. Jaime forced his frustration to not rise, picturing Cersei's face, so alike his own.

"I ask you to not release me from my sworn duty as a Kingsguard. I will obey your commands, keep your secrets, counsel you when requested and keep silent when not, and defend your name and honour," he swore for the second time in his life.

Arryn looked at him pityingly—it was strange to see pity instead of contempt directed his way, but he found he hated it even more. He likely thought him a poor young knight, clinging to the illusions of grandeur of the Kingsguard. He scoffed internally; if there was one thing he was certain of being after this war, it was being disillusioned of the sacred order. Some of those feelings must've shown for Arryn's eyes narrowed and Robert's face became hostile.

"While your skills with a sword cannot be doubted, it is of utmost importance that your father receive the heir the Mad King stole. I dare say your short experience in the Kingsguard was unpleasant. You have not shown a deep regard for the duties that come with your position." Arryn's eyes held the judgement he'd seen everywhere for the last months. Arryn judges me, Ser Barristan judges me, my father judges me, Ned Stark judges me, everyone judges me and finds me lacking.

"Stop it! Stop doing that. By what right does the falcon judge the lion? You broke your oath too when you rebelled." The Hand's eyes widened in alarm and Robert put his cut down, evidently preparing for his words.

"We never swore the oaths of a Kingsguard. We were saving the realm from the mercy of the Mad King" They weren't even considering it, he could see. Jaime cut him off then, a reckless hope inside him alighting. Maybe they'll stop if I tell them. Maybe they'll let me stay if I am proved to be the saviour of this city.

"Wildfire. You know wildfire, don't you? It can burn anywhere once lighted, even on water. Aerys would've bathed in it, if he dared. He burned lords and petty thieves, anyone who he thought was against him, and laughed as they screamed. Soon half the country was against him. The Targaryens were all mad for fire, and he more than most." Jaime left lightheaded but he didn't stop. If he stopped, he would never be able to say it again. "He saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always keen to point out those he missed. So he had his pyromancers place caches of wildfire all over the city. Under Baelor's Sept, the hovels of Flea Bottom, even under the Red Keep itself." Someone made to speak but he couldn't see anything except the mad purple eyes and the green blaze. He sunk to the floor, the shame at sitting so low being nothing but an off-hand feeling. "Only a handful of them did so no-one noticed. The queen's eyes had been closed for years and the others were fighting a war. Lord Chelsted did and confronted Aerys, reasoning, jesting, threatening, and begging him not to do it. When he failed, he threw down the chains of his office and the king burned him alive for that. All the time, I stood still as a corpse in white and guarded my king." The room was as silent as the throne room after Rickard Stark's execution. Jaime hastened to fill it with his words, before the screams did. "When my father sacked the city, he said 'The traitors want my city, but I'll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat'. The Targaryens burn their dead and the king meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of all." He furrowed his eyebrows and continued, "Though I do not think he truly expected to die. Like Aerion Brightflame, he thought he would be reborn as a dragon and burn his enemies, till only ashes were left. That day, I came upon Rossart, dressed like a man-at-arms, hurrying away. I slew him first. Then I slew the king, before he could send someone else to do it. Later, I hunted down the others, Belis and Gerigus."

Jaime sat in the room, silent as a grave. Burn them, burn them all, echoed in his mind and he startled when Robert Baratheon spoke again. "Is all this true? Aerys truly wanted to..." He trailed off and Jaime simply looked at him till he nodded, believing him. They believe me. They must believe me.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

He looked at Arryn as he answered the question. "I didn't want anyone to know about them. It seemed better that way. What if a new king came along and decided one day to follow in the Mad King's footsteps and set them alight. Only this time, I wouldn't be there to stop it."

"You could've told Ned when he came upon you."

"You think he cared to listen? No, honourable, dutiful Ned Stark judged me guilty the moment he laid eyes on me." His mockery of the Lord of Winterfell would earn him no friends but he could not care then.

"Jon, the wildfire needs to be handled. There must be a way to get rid of it," Baratheon told Arryn, ignoring him as Jaime tapped his fingers in frustration.

"I will handle it, Robert—" Jaime cut in before he could go further.

"You can arrange it all once I'm gone. Can I stay in the Kingsguard?" Arryn pursued his lips in disapproval before exchanging a look with Robert.

"Regrattably, Ser Jaime—"

The king interrupted his Hand, the first time he'd seen him do so. "You have sworn to obey my commands, haven't you? Well, I command you to be released from service and return to Lord Tywin as his heir. Are we clear?"

Jaime nodded, face red with rage. To outright dismiss me, when I killed the king he was fighting against! When my father won him the throne he sits on and gave him the hand of my sweet sister—

The king interrupted him this time, with an offer he was in no mood to refuse. "Now, I need to hit something and stop thinking. All of my guards can hardly keep up. Do you want to try, Ser Jaime?"

"As long as you are willing to be the colour of your strongwine for your wedding. Your Grace," he added later, uncaring of giving offense. At least this king won't burn me alive for it.

Robert almost smiled then and it was not a kind smile. "We'll see if you can even say 'strongwine' after I'm done, Lannister."

Jaime was able to say 'strongwine' after it, though he could not do much else. The king and he had fought persistently till they both dropped from exhaustion. Gallingly, he lost more bouts than he won.

They kept practicing until Cersei arrived for the wedding, ending up each day with bruises as dark as the sky.

Whoever had named her the 'Jewel of Casterly Rock' and the 'Sun in the West' had been right, Jaime admitted freely as his twin glided down from the carriage, looking exquisite in her dress of gold and red. Robert was not here to greet her so Jaime damned propriety and hugged her close.

"Jaime," she breathed and he answered by saying her name. "I've missed you."

That night, she showed him how much she had.

Cersei married the Baratheon king and became queen in the early days of the new year. Jaime sat beside Stannis Baratheon, as the brothers of the couple, and that was the second most unbearable thing he had to do. Stannis kept a uniform scowl on his face, small enough to not be improper but large enough to keep anyone from trying to approach him. The man was still angry over having Jon Arryn take over his duties as the closest male relative of the groom, on Robert's behest.

"When will you be leaving for Dragonstone to capture young Daenaerys and Viserys along with Queen Rhaella—Forgive me, would it be proper to call you as Lord Stannis or merely Ser?" The man was not a lord and only a penniless knight, despite being the king's brother. The Baratheon realised that too and ground his teeth, Jaime was pleased to note. At least someone here is more miserable than me.

"I will leave for the island fortress of the Targaryens after the wedding," Stannis answered, avoiding the question entirely but Jaime was not about to give up so easily.

"I suppose His Grace is only waiting for you to return before bequeathing Storm's End on you? Now that he can't be its lord."

"I will do my duty to His Grace from whichever seat he provides me with," he answered tersely. Before Jaime could hog him further, he noticed the call for the bedding ceremony being echoed by the lords in attendance. As he had sworn to do for her, Jaime ensured Cersei reached the chambers as quickly and comfortably as she could. Then he retired to his rooms to drink till dawn.

The day his father and he were set to leave for Casterly Rock, Cersei sneaked into his chambers.

"Shouldn't you be with that new husband of yours?"

Cersei scoffed, "As if he can find time for me after his drinking." She reached forward and put her arms about his shoulders. "I have told you before. I will not bear his children. Only yours."

"I will be in Casterly Rock—" She kissed his protestations away and he did not oppose it.

"We will find a way. I'll wait for you till we are together again."

"As we are meant to be," Jaime whispered, believing it with all his heart.