Welcome back! Oh... and there is one particular section in this chapter that I have edited, I didn't feel comfortable posting it in the original form, but as it is now, there is definitely a lot you can imply and I'd rather it was implied rather than specific.
"They are gaining too much influence!" Cersei barged into Tywin's solar pausing slightly when she noticed Vesara sitting across from the old lion with her nephew at his feet. It sickened her that her lord father doted on the boy, more than he had done with any one of her children.
"You wanted to speak with me?" Tywin said without so much as raising his head to acknowledge his daughters presence. Only when Vesara rose to leave he raised his head and gestured for her to resume her seated position.
"Yes, about Jaime." Cersei hissed walking towards the pitcher to pour herself a glass of wine.
"We have him back. You started a war and I'm doing whatever I can to clean up your mess."
"This is hardly my mess. Jaime was the one that rode off and took up arms against the Starks. He started this. He came back broken, you don't really expect him to be the man that he left as now."
The entire conversation was beginning to make Vesara feel uncomfortable as she attempted to ease the tension she felt by making faces at Durrandon as he head lulled from side to side following the conversation that was occurring before him. She had to admit that Jaime was different but she was yet to discern whether he was changed for the better or not.
He had a sadness to him now.
"You took Eddard Stark as recompense. There was a diplomatic response that you failed to consider. Everything escalated because you could not control your son."
"After everything I have done for this family. Why? Did it ever occur to you that I might be the one who deserves your confidence and your trust, not your sons? Not Jaime or Tyrion, and certainly not her… but me."
Cersei glared at the girl who she was never to escape. Not as her step-mother and now as her good sister.
"Years and years of lectures of family and legacy, the same lecture, really, just with tiny tedious variations. Did it ever occur to you that your daughter might be the only one listening to them? Living by them? That she might have the most to contribute to your legacy that you love so much more than your actual children."
She really wished that she could leave now. This particular battle was not hers.
"All right. Contribute." Tywin had lowered his quill now and closed the ledger he had been writing in, an attempt to show Cersei that she had his undivided attention.
"The Tyrells are a problem."
"The Tyrells helped us defeat Stannis Baratheon. The Tyrells saved your life, your children's lives."
"Margaery has her claws in Joffrey. She knows how to manipulate him."
"We are fortunate that someone knows how to." It was clear that Vesara instantly regretted speaking aloud but there was no retracting her comment. Cersei turned her face sideways to glare at the current regent.
"Yes, it is good." Tywin chimed in. "I wish you knew how to guide him." He gestured to Cersei.
Cersei exhaled heavily in frustration.
"I don't distrust you because you're a woman. I distrust you because you're not as smart as you think you are."
"And yet you trust a girl? A girl who is not ours by blood." She hissed pointing at Vesara.
Vesara rose to face Cersei. "I may not be yours by blood, as you constantly remind me. Let me remind you… our lives are intertwined whether you like it or not so it is in my best interests, this family's and most importantly my sons. This family is his."
Cersei turned to her father in outrage. She could have sworn that she had seen him smirk before he looked down at the boy at his feet.
"Do not blame me for what you consider being your biggest sin. Of being born a woman… I long gave up on being a son that my father could be proud of. Now we can only raise grandsons that our fathers will be proud of."
Things certainly would have been different if Vesara had been born a male. Cersei would have killed the child herself if Jaime had not done it. She had only tolerated Vesara's existence because she thought that a girl would be easier to be rid of than a male.
Apparently that wasn't the case.
Cersei was sickened by Vesara's attempts at stroking her father in all the right places, the Lannister ego, all the talk of legacy and the strong line that they would have because of the boy at his feet.
The boy was disposable.
As was Vesara.
It had taken some convincing to get his bannermen to agree to the terms he was laying out in his will. There were two elements that made them particularly uncomfortable and he could not blame them.
The war was becoming riskier by the day, he may have won battles but he knew it was far from over.
She had not asked him to do what he had done but it felt right, and fair since he rejected her initial request. He had to admit, the first he had seen coming but the second came out of nowhere. Frankly, he was a little bit proud of his brother.
He placed the direwolf seal on the letter before having it sent to Oldtown. He didn't know where was appropriate to send it, nowhere was safe and no one was trustworthy anymore. He hoped it would find the hands of the Maesters at the Citadel. Men no longer trusted one another as house fought house, he prayed that they still trusted the gods.
He felt a flurry of emotions as he processed what would go into his final will and testament, he had already had multiple arguments with his mother who objected every step of the way, from what he had shared with her anyway. He hated how she was so hurt by the presence of his brother, after all the boy and done nothing and yet he was resented for his birth more than their father.
Bastard or not, he was his brother all the same. Had things been different perhaps it would have been Jon leading the resistance as the King in the North.
He felt some relief in knowing that their family name would live on in some way, no matter what happened in Westeros. He was glad that Vesara had provided him with some peace of mind, only to add to his worries in other ways.
This whole situation was a mess.
He felt a new respect for his father and Robert Baratheon and in some respects Rhaegar Targaryen as well, all young men that were burdened with duties they were ill-prepared for, just as he was now. He didn't understand how they could live such comfortable lives after seeing the horrors of war, he didn't know how he would survive when this was all over and done with.
If he were to survive.
He didn't know what he would do when his testament reached Oldtown. If he was alive, people would pester him with questions that he would be forced to answer and what's worse is that he would be forced to betray those that had entrusted him with it. His brother would never forgive him for keeping this a secret.
He didn't know what would hurt his brother more, finding out that Robb knew and kept it a secret or finding out in a letter. Neither would have pleased him.
He prayed that his brother would not resent him for doing virtually the same thing that their father had done, only now Jon would never find out. Their father had taken his secrets to the grave.
He promised Vesara that he would do the same or preserve it until a time when it was ready to be told. They both agreed that it was not his place to say anything.
Had he already betrayed her trust by writing his will? No doubt he had, but the death of his siblings would be of greater significance to him, he must ensure that their house would survive.
That was all they all had at in the end. A bloodline and lands. What good were either when they were all condemned to a life of fear?
He refused to live in fear.
That was what he told himself as he approached the Twins to apologise to Lord Walder Frey. He had told his Uncle Edmure the same when he was traded as amends to Robb's mistake. But life was short and he needed to make it count.
When he was with Talisa she made it worth it, every risk, the damage to his word and his honour. He would take every happiness that he could no matter how fleeting.
He was lucky that he knew what happiness meant, how it felt. He doubted that half the people involved in this war knew what true happiness was and if they had that they had forgotten it as it became consumed by darkness and death.
That was all that there was now.
Despair. That was all that they would know.
Winter had come.
He made every excuse to have her visit him, and with every invitation she declined guards appeared at her door to escort her to the royal chambers.
A tremor moved up her spine.
"My husband has returned, this isn't necessary…" he cut her off, bringing his blade to her lips. She had never felt the cold steel but she could imagine the searing as it split her skin.
He took the blade to her waist and brought it upwards towards her chin, taking shards of fabric with it.
She knew not to wear her fine silks when he summoned her, it wouldn't be long before they were destroyed.
"Drink it." He ordered as he placed the blade on the table and replaced it with a goblet of wine.
She hesitantly took it. Vesara gulped nervously as he leant his face close to her. One hand drifting down her middle, sliding down to the scared skin on her upper thigh. "There's a good girl, drink it all." His fingertips pressed down into her seared flesh, still tender as it healed causing her to wince.
"Come on, you're stronger than that." He dug his fingers into her skin with more force than he had used before causing her to shun away from him.
"Joffrey, my husband… your uncle…" he smacked her with the back of his hand, splitting her lip slightly.
"A one-handed husband… he's useless to us now." His lips met hers in a chaste, forceful kiss. He released her lips quickly after their capture, displeased by the taste of the blood that seeped from her new wound.
"If you play along it won't hurt a bit… think of all the good we're doing… all that we'll achieve…"
He was doing Vesara a favour. Ensuring the longevity of their house.
This was the first time she cried. She was unsure why this time was different from the others.
She felt dirty. She always felt dirty.
This had not been how she had intended for their alliance to work.
As she hurried back to her chambers she was overcome with shame. More than the shame of being defiled by her known half-brother, her husband's son. The shame of using the very weapon that her step-mother had long ago told her would be her most valuable.
She was nothing more than a cheap whore, buying her position and power like Cersei had said was.
Vesara was thankful she was alone when she had returned. The guards that stood at her door were Lannister soldiers, quiet and unable of speaking out against any Lannister.
Her own guards were always at Durrandon's side and for that she was glad. She didn't know what she would do if one of them were to be harmed in a skirmish to defend her honour. Even though it was their duty, something about it felt off.
Submerging herself in the waters of her cold bath from the afternoon she scrubbed at her skin until it was reddened. Everywhere he touched, everywhere he looked. No matter how hard she scrubbed she knew there was no cleansing herself of what she wished to rid herself of.
There was no cleansing herself of the shame.
Of her failure.
And as much as she tried to tell herself that it wasn't her fault, she couldn't quieten the voice in her head that told her she had asked for it. If only she didn't lust for power.
She didn't want to feel this way, she wanted to be strong in the face of adversity and violence, but she couldn't. She wanted to remind herself that women faced circumstances similar to hers every day and they did not complain in the slightest.
The water dripped from her body as she sat close to the flames in nothing but her cloak. She didn't have the energy to dry herself nor did she want to call for servants to do it for her.
She didn't know if the water that fell to the floor was from the bath or from her eyes. It didn't matter as they melded into one another, finding some comfort in the vagueness.
They wouldn't see her like this.
No one would.
"You were much better company in shackles." They had been sitting in silence in Vesara's chambers with Jaime lingering over Durrandon's crib as he slept. The boy barely moved or made a sound as he slept, if it wasn't for the soft breath coming from his mouth and the gentle flutter of his long dark lashes Jaime would have worried that he wasn't alive.
"Shackled, bound and covered in my own shit. What a dream come true." He replied sarcastically. "You still haven't revealed why you were in Robb Starks camp."
"In my dreams you would have been gagged."
"Do you dream about me often?" He stepped away from the crib and came towards her as she lounged on the chaise reading a book on the origins of the Rhyonish. "Do I have both my hands in your dreams? Do I use them to pull your hair back while I fuck you? Does my face turn into my father's just as you cum? Or do you not let the old lion spill his seed inside you?"
She gritted her teeth and considered confessing Joffrey's crimes, but she wouldn't confess that she had allowed herself to be defiled and by a boy. To admit that he was stronger than she.
She wouldn't give any of them the satisfaction of admitting her own weakness and her own failures to keep the King at a distance.
"Too many remedies to cure you of your aches has left you confused dear husband. You're raving like a madman." She smiled at him, clearly insincere.
"Who cures your aches? Who satisfies your urges? All rumours have some truth." She snapped her book shut.
The lump in her throat was ready to consume her. She didn't know whether she would burst into tears or scream at the top of her lungs.
Jaime had no idea.
And that was how it would remain.
Clearly he was fed up with the silence and was ready for an argument.
She briefly considered holding her tongue before she retaliated. "If we all listened to rumours I would have your sisters head." She hissed. There was no way for what she had just said to come out in a less than harsh way. She felt tightness in her chest as words struggled to remain contained in her throat.
When he didn't respond she continued. "I'd mount her head alongside the beasts in the grand hall to remind the Seven Kingdoms how treason is dealt with. I would show her the same mercy she had shown Eddard Stark."
As much as his sister enraged him at this point in time he would not let Vesara speak of his sister in such a way.
He grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her up from the seat, loosening her robes slightly due to the movement. She frantically pulled them up to cover the remnants of her bruises.
She brought her face closer to his whispered in his ear. "I would hunt her like one of my father's prized boars."
He gripped the back of her head, tilting her head up to look him in the eye. "Tsk tsk, Princess, we wouldn't want the wrong people to hear such dangerous threats." He let out a slight chuckle. "Besides, your father was useless at hunting boars. Now remind me what was his cause of death?"
Smack.
She struck him across the cheek. His natural reaction saw him bring his stump to his cheek only to slightly brush it off, she could swear he was slightly embarrassed.
With his remaining hand he grabbed her upper arm with a mighty force causing her to wince as he pulled her closer. His hand clasped tighter and tighter until she cowered under his touch.
"It's perfectly fine for you to threaten my family but I can't speak ill of your precious father. Where is the fairness in that?."
"You can't bear to admit to the fact that you are nothing more than a lap dog. The gods forbid that Jaime do anything that he wanted to do. With your sisters head on pike you'd be lost. For who is Jaime Lannister without his precious twin? Without his master?" He released her causing her to reach for the reddened part of her arm.
As he turned to see the pained look on her face he came back towards her only for her to back further away. He came closer and closer until she was blocked into a corner.
It had been her womanly instinct to cower. At least that was what the septas had taught her to do. She had wished more than anything that Stannis had beaten it out of her entirely and for the most part she felt it gone, but with Jaime, she felt like a weak little girl who could do naught but slander.
"I was not my intention to anger you as such, merely irritate." She tried her best for her voice not to seem shaken, she had never felt afraid of Jaime before. She had never felt afraid of any man, not until the Lannister men had their way with her. Before then, Vesara had always assumed she was safe, but no one could protect her for Joffrey and in this moment no one could protect her from Jaime.
"You have been finding new ways to agitate for the last two decades and now as my wife you are finding even more. I promised that this marriage would never be a place of fear for you…" he looked down, away from her face and then turned his sights to where Durrandon slept. "…but I…"
He couldn't say it.
He knew what he wanted to say but he couldn't find the words to tell her he was afraid. How he had been haunted by dreams of his mother and the failure that he had become in comparison to the dreams that his parents had for his sister and he. He had never questioned the man that he had become. For a long time a life with Cersei was all he had known and all that he thought was possible. He barely remembered his mother and how she loved him, all he knew was the love that Cersei gave him.
"I should never have insulted you Jaime." Her voice was soft and her eyes were moist but no tears fell.
Joffrey had stolen the last of her tears. They were the only tears she would have for a Lannister.
She never intended to hurt Jaime, she thought that he could take whatever she had to say. They had always been slightly more aggressive than they should have been with one another but she had never pushed him over the edge.
Vesara had wondered whether he was slightly more sensitive than usual because of the loss of his hand. To him it was more than a hand. His lost appendage was who he was as Jaime Lannister the knight and now his father had additional ammunition in his battle to have Jaime accept his fate as the heir to Casterly Rock.
Jaime was losing the only life he had known.
Vesara realised that he was scared, just as scared as she.