Reign of the Fallen

A Game of Thrones Fanfiction

By Millie55

Jaime

Valyrian steel, there was no finer ore from which a sword could be crafted. There was no blacksmith left alive who could forage such weapons since the Doom of Valyria. This left the eyes that took in its elegant beauty fascinated. Jaime Lannister had always desired such a well-crafted weapon, but his dreams had died with the many wars of Westeros. Yet, here he was with a Valyrian steel blade to call his own. "Magnificent," he near whispered out in admiration. Bright eyes only did raise from the sword when his father let out a low hum in agreement. It reminded Jaimie that he was not the only one in the chamber. "Looks fresh-forged," Jaime then noted aloud out of respect.

"It is," Tywin informed his son, bringing shock to Jaime's features.

"No one's made a Valyrian steel sword since the Doom of Valyria-" Jaime spoke out, his voice a mix of matter-of-fact knowledge, and shock.

"There are three living smiths who know how to rework Valyrian steel. The finest of them was in Volantis. Came here to King's Landing at my invitation." With his father's words, Jaime came to understand how his sword came to be. While no known man could craft Valyrian steel, reworking it was a much less difficult task.

"Where did you get this much Valyrian steel?" Jaime questioned his father as he pushed the fine blade back into its sheath. This, however, was not an easy task to the man who had lost his dominant hand during his journey home. Angular features distorted with frustration, his wrist twisting and turning until the blade was tucked away completely. A sigh took his body, he could feel the eyes of his father on him and sense the air of disappointment that took the room.

"From someone who no longer had need of it," Tywin spoke up as he rounded his desk. Setting down into his seat, a smile almost took his emotionless disposition. His son's struggle, however, kept the smile at bay.

Standing across from his father, his mind couldn't help but race through all those they had conquered. It searched desperately for the previous over of such fine steel. They had to be from a great house, and in king's landing for it to fall into the position of his father. His body tensed as his mind focused on the individual - the traitor, Ned Stark. The vivid memories that came with such recollection forced Jaime into shutting his eyes and fighting them back into the darkness of his mind. When his eyes found the light again, he wore a coy smirk and spoke; "you've wanted one in the family for a long time-"

"-and now we have two."

"Two?" Jaime let his brow raise - could they be so fortunate?

"The original weapon was absurdly large. Plenty of steel for two swords,"Tywin explained and edged the sheathed blade in the direction of his eldest son, "and this one is yours, though, you'll have to train your left hand."

Jaime's heart dropped. While he was delighted to be honored with such fine weaponry, the skill he held with his left hand was less than impressive. He, however, would not let this be known to his father. "Any decent swordsman knows how to use both hands," he scoffed, but his father was not convinced.

"You'll never be as good"

"No. But as long as I'm better than everyone else, it doesn't matter," his cockiness overtook him, it was one thing he hadn't lost during his extended captivity and fight to return home to Cersei.

"You can't serve in the Kingsgaurd with one hand," Tywin reminded his son, his voice stern. Jaime's fear was now coming for him. The Kingsgaurd was his life. It was not something he would leave behind - his sister was not someone he could leave behind.

"Where is that written?" Jaime ordered, the frustration driving him to the other side of the room - putting distance between himself and his father. "I can and I will. The Kingsgaurd oath is for life."

"The war is over. The King is safe."

A laugh threatened to take Jaime; "The king is never safe. How many people in this city alone would love to see his head on a pike?"

"Other knights protected the King while you were a prisoner. They will continue to do so when you go home," Tywin explained, his words drawing Jaime's attention back to him.

"Home?" Jaime's voice broke. His father didn't expect him to return to Casterly Rock did he? Though, Tywin's words quickly confirmed what was expected of the knight;

"You'll return to Casterly rock and rule in my stead as my place is here. I don't expect to see the Rock again before I die."

Frustration bubbled inside Jaime. Casterly Rock was not his home, Kingslanding was his home. Here he had severed not one but three kings. Both Cersei and Tyrion resided in the Capitol, as well as his children. Leaving Kingslanding would mean leaving all that he loved behind. He was not willing to give that up without a fight. "No," he told his father firmly.

"I don't believe I asked you a question," the hand of the king was standing now in an attempt to assert dominance over his son.

"My answer is no. I don't want Casterly Rock, a wife, children-" Jaimie listed as in his mind he already had all of those things here in the Capitol. He did not need anyone telling him to love when it was obvious to him that his sister was the only possible choice.

Tensing, Tywin took slow strides, stopping when he came toe-to-toe with Jaime. "For 40 years I've tried to teach you," his voice managed to remain firm with anger, yet developed somewhat of a fatherly quality. "If you haven't learned by now, you never will. Go. If serving as a glorified bodyguard is the sum of your ambition, go-" His words were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door, followed by the loud screech of the individual's entry. Both men turned their heads, taking in the sight of the tiny brunette who entered the chamber.

"My apologies Lord Hand, Ser Jaime," spoke handmaiden Delilah Gwhendell upon entry. Jaime hadn't seen the young woman since their first encounter in the Queen's chambers. Unlike before, she was dressed in the finest of silks and was covered much more conservatively. Yet, his minds still managed to recall just what was concealed beneath her gown. Graceful strides carried the handmaiden to the two men in the midst of a power struggle before she curtsied. "I do not mean to interrupt," while her features were soft, her words displayed no regret for barging in, "but the Queen has requested that Ser Jaime meet with the Maester," she explained before lowering bright eyes to the chamber floor. For a Northerner, she knew her place - this impressed Jaime greatly.

"Need not apologize, Lady Delilah," Jaime assured, a small smile cutting through the tension that rested in the air. "I am sure you know better than anyone that my dear sister does not like to be kept waiting. Isn't that right father?" Jaime quipped but stopped to look longingly at the sword he had been gifted. "I supposed you want the sword back-"

"Keep it. A one-handed man with no family needs all the help he can get," his father's words stung deep into his core. He had always respected his father, but his honor and his love for Cersei and their children had to come first.

Left hand grasping at the Valyrian sword, he pulled it close to his frame. With quick steps, he was stalking towards the door, he only did stop to catch the attention of Delilah. The dispute between father and son left her still in place, her eyes wider than that of a doe faced by a hunter's bow. "My lady, the Queen will be expecting us both-" he called to her, breaking the northerner from her trance. After a quick apology and a courteous goodbye, the pair departed from the chamber and took to the halls.

The walk to the Queen's chambers from the Tower of the Hand was one of great length and the silence that fell between the Lord Commander and the handmaiden. Jaime could understand Delilah's apparent discomfort displayed by the great distance between them as well as her silence. The last time they had encountered one another was not traditional. He could only imagine that the young handmaiden had felt vulnerable, and embarrassed to be rather exposed to a man she did not expect. With Delilah being a woman of noble birth, he could only assume that no other man had seen her in such a way. The knight almost felt guilty for it:

"Delilah," he spoke out, the need formalities lost in the moment, "I want to offer my sincerest apologies for startling you in my sister's chambers upon my return to Kingslanding. My journey was long and enduring, I hand wanted nothing more but to see my family-"

"Need not apologize, Ser Jaime," the brunette assured him, though her words betrayed her. Instead of accepting his words, she was respecting the hierarchy. "The Queen receives many visitors, though it could have as easily been her waking me when in fact it was you. Was not my place to be sleeping in her chambers anyway-"

Jaime knew quite well that Cersei often sought the young woman's company during the night. When Robbert ruled, it kept him at bay and afterward, it gave Cersei another child to mother. "I need not to, but I am," Jaime told the young handmaiden as he came to a stop feet from his sister's door. He could not help but question who his sister's other visitors were, but another took over. Why hadn't he crossed paths with Delilah until today? Having been home for weeks, it was to be expected that her service would have been needed. It seemed that he had encountered all of those in kings landing with the expectation of her. Had his sister been keeping her from him? He asked himself this, but could only come to one logical explanation. Adilayde.

The thought near humored him, could Cersei possibly be jealous of the girl? And if she was, why send her to retrieve him for the Maester? Before he could voice his questions, the sway of silk clad hips was luring him further and through the threshold of his sister's chambers. "My Queen, your brother has come for his fitting," her voice was a sweet song as she addressed Cersei.

The happiness that seemed to take his sister was one near foreign to him. She had always been one to take after their father with his stern nature and desire for power, yet the Gwhendell girl brought forth her nurturing nature. Tired eyes watched as Cersei approached the young woman, her hands cupping the angular features of her face and stroking smooth tendril into place. "Such sweet little dove," his sister cooed her term of endearment. Jaime had heard it spoken to many before, first to their daughter as she was innocent and pure, then to Sansa Stark when she was set to be Queen, and now to Lady Delilah. "The other girls, are being fitted into their gowns for the wedding," she disclosed in a soft tone in which Jaime struggled to hear, "go join them, you will look just beautiful in Lannister gold - won't she Jaime?"

A lump formed in his throat, Cersei was testing him. Cerulean hued eyes failed to focus on the woman, instead, they bounced from his sister to the handmaiden as his lips were at a loss for words. "Yes," he sounded after a moment, "why of course. Nothing short of ravishing-"

"I am expecting nothing less, with the war ending and Joffery's reign dawning upon us - Delilah, it is only good time until a lord asks for your hand. There will be many well known Lord gracing us with their company during the celebrations. With such northern beauty-" Jaime could practically hear the sickeningly-sweet venom in her sister's voice now, "-it would bring great surprise if no man asks for your hand."

The color drained from the handmaiden's features, but she hid it well behind a smile. "It's all I have ever dreamed of," she claimed before pulling back, "now if you will excuse me, my Queen, I will want to look my best, come wedding day-" Soon, the tiny brunette vacated the room leaving Jaime, his dear sister and Maester Qyburn behind. With the gentle closing of the chamber door, tension in the room grew strong - the one thing more evident than the discomfort was the knot in Cersei's face.

Jaimes was surprised when full lips failed to part in scrutiny. Cersei was always one to voice her opinions, but she was also best at keeping secrets - Jaime could only assume that her silence was influenced by the presence of the maester. Lowering his vision to conceal a smirk, Jaime approached Qyburn. Sitting across from him, he expected that the old man would be examining his hand to assure it had healed properly - instead what he was caused his smile to fade. To replace the limb lost - in true Lannister fashion - a golden hand.

"A work of art. The craftsmanship is excellent," the maester enthused, leather digits working against Jaime's scarred stump. The knight's face twisted and scowled in discomfort - it near matched his twin sister's now.

"You like it so much," Jaime scoffed, "you're welcome to chop off your own hand and take it."

It was then the queen regent made her agitation known; "Such an ingrate. I spent days with the goldsmith getting the details just right." The golden lioness was on the prowl, pacing back and forth in front of the desk that divided Jaime from her. Fair brows furrowed together as Jaime took a moment to glance up at his sister. Days? Now that seemed like an exaggeration, even for someone as analytical as Cersei. He, however, did not question her, he was already in hot water.

Pale eyes remained focused on her Lannister beauty, only to fall at the words of the maester: "There, how does that feel?" The hand was in place. It was a foreign feeling to have such weight pulling on his arm - Jaime had grown used to his hand's absence. Jaime opened his mouth to speak, but his sister stole the air from his words.

"Elegant, I think. Thank you for your help with the other matter," Cersei voice, her slender frame taking a step towards the door - a subtle signal that his work with Jaime was complete. Qyburn however, ignored her wordless guide and turned his attention Cersei. Jaime couldn't help but wonder why his sister sought out the assistance of Qyburn. Before Jaime could question the matter, Cersei persisted; "Symptoms are gone completely. We are in your debt, Maester Qyburn."

Vacating the room, Qyburn left the two lovers confined to the queen's quarters. With this new degree of privacy, Jaime found the opportunity to speak; "What symptoms?"

Jaime received an inconclusive answer from his sister; "Symptoms that are not your concern." What was she hiding from him? "You let him touch you?" Surprise took his words. There were very few men Cersei allowed contact, one of which used to be himself. In recent time, after his many moons away, their physical contact was minimal.

"You jealous?" Cersei quipped, elegant strides carrying her off to a long small pedestal. Silence fell between them as Jaime pondered - was he jealous? No, what he did know, however, was that he missed feeling her skin against his. With this in mind, Jamie joined her by her side. While Jamie failed to speak, Cersei took it upon herself to fill the air - reminding Jaime of the hell he forced her through with his absence. After weeks of returning to comforts of King's Landing, he knew very well of the events that had occurred. Cersei would not let him forget his disappearance, the so-called traumatic death of her husband, Myrcella's betrothal, the siege Jaime was in no way impressed with - save for the courageous acts of his brother - and finally Cersei's own betrothal to the Highgarden brat.

Rolling his eyes, Jaime brought forth his own recent conflict, "So... Father disowned me today." The surprise on Cersei's face was almost enough to make him smile - with the gentle part of her lips, he could tell she did not believe him.

"He can't disown you, you're all he's got," she claimed, casting aside herself as well as Tyrion. Strain took to her voice as she continued to speak; "You don't really plan on staying in the Kingsguard, do you?"

Jamie nodded, his body leaning into his sister; "Staying in the Kingsguard means I live right here in the Red Keep with you..." his words trailed off into a sultry hum. They got lost in the curvature of her neck, and soon his lips were there, tasting the sweet flesh he had longed for. The delicious flavors lingered on his tongue as his sister pulled away - yet another rejection.

"Not now," she groaned out.

"I want- Not now? When? I've been back for weeks. Something's changed," Jaime pleaded, watching the slim figure of his lover put greater distance between them. Cersei had stood, and was near on the other side of the room.

"Everything's changed. You come back after all this time with no apologies and one hand and expect everything to be the same?" Cersei pleaded, her hand seeking out a goblet of the finest wine.

"What do you want me to apologize for?" Jaime begged an answer as he was finding himself often caught in a state of confusion.

Her answer was simple; "For leaving me,"

Jaime let out a low, sarcastic laugh. "You think I wanted to be taken prisoner? Every day I was a prisoner, I plotted my escape. Every day. I murdered people so I could be here with yo-"

"You took too long," she cut him off, "now go!"

Her shrill order had Jaime retreating in defeat. It was clear to him now what his sister wanted, and what she wanted was not him. Although rash, the commander of the Kingsgaurd reached a conclusion in his mind. It was not one he particularly liked, but he knew it would anger Cersei greatly. Abandoning her in her chambers, long strides carried him through the corridors of the Red Keep. Many spoke out his name, and young handmaidens who serve his sister and the other highborn ladies who reside there swooned - this all went unheard and unseen by the knight. He had tunnel vision. Only did it clear when he was busting through the door of The Hand's chambers.

Beyond the door, Tywin became alert. Jaime's presence hardened his features. With the man's strong stance and focus, it appeared to many that he was looking for a fight. He, however, was seeking victory through another course. His father planted the seed of success. "I will leave the Kingsgaurd," Jaime declared and watched as Tywin's features were overtaken with pride, "there will be conditions I ask to be met but I need only one answered now in this moment."

"Name it," Tywin smirked - Jaime knew that with his father's satisfied tone, he would do anything to have him as Lord of Casterly Rock.

"The lady I ask serve at my side," Jaime swallowed hard, was he really about to leap into such commitments? Yes, there was no turning back now. "I ask for the hand of the Ghwendel girl, Lady Delilah."