Wow I didn't expect (or necessarily want) to have this chapter out so soon cause I didn't want to give off the idea that updates would be coming this frequently. But i'm more than halfway through the next chapter and it's pretty close to my bedtime so I thought, meh, why not? Thanks for everyone that's following me! I'll have to admit seeing a little spark of interest from others has been the main reason i'm able to get this out so soon -that and the fact that writing this chapter has been really easy for me, usually switching back and forth from POV characters affords me with a bit of a break but with this I just kept going and going and going... Hope it's good! Let me know.

Jaime

He couldn't find Addam. And he wasn't going to spend anymore time wandering around the castle, bound to run in to Lorraine at some point. He made his way to his room and ordered Lewys to let the Lord Marbrand know he'd be be taking his dinner in his room later on as he wasn't feeling very well. Which was not entirely untrue. He felt a sickening pit in his stomach as he lay in bed, fighting off things he did not want to think about.

He felt like a child. He didn't know how to act. Even in the worst of times, in the most impossible situations, there was always something he could try to do, he had always trusted his instincts even when they flared red.

Why was he so...enthralled by someone like Lorraine Marbrand? Why was she exciting to him? Now that he was alone he could finally bring himself to ponder what kind of reason he would have to not only find her pleasant company, but to be even remotely attracted to her.

Attracted is a strong word, he thought. Attraction to Jaime meant touching, it meant sex. It meant rushed encounters and rough pumps. It had always meant green eyes on green eyes, golden hair with golden hair. He shut his eyes tight as he lay on the bed, willing thoughts of her away. Cersei is nothing like Lorraine.

Perhaps that was the point. Once upon a time, every woman he looked at only paled in comparison to even the memory of his sister. Anything he liked about anyone else he found better in Cersei. Every wisp of hair that had passed him and voice that crept in his ear he could only compare to his sister's. Even The Wench -who was so obviously not Cersei, almost every time he lay his eyes on her he could only think: "Your hair is not as golden as hers. Your eyes are a disgusting shade of blue, not the deep green that are also mine. You are ugly and tall and stupid, my sister is beautiful, is perfect." It made him bitter.

Looking at Lorraine, he felt none of that resentment. He felt warmth, and he tried to trick himself into thinking that it was merely because of how little of it he had felt during the past year, or his entire life, but he couldn't.

It was strange, and a little ironic. Lorraine was the strangest little thing and yet to him she was...everything he could not explain. It was almost like being with Cersei, no one else existed to him when they were "speaking", the difference being that with Lorraine he had no urge to kill anyone, to start a war and tear apart Kingdoms.

Is it because Lorraine Marbrand is safe? Venturing to think of his father, he realised that Lorraine Marbrand was probably one of the safest things he had ever known.

Tywing Lannister, the Great Tywin Lannister would be rolling over in his crypt right this moment at the realisation that his son, his favoured heir, was thinking of a lovely, warm, Western woman. That was not to say that Tywin Lannister would approve of Lorraine, Tywin Lannister did not really approve of anyone.

As he thought of Tywin, his father, he remembered the dream he had had where his own father had charged at him, turning in to a beast, why? He thought.

Did I kill my father? Is that why he hates me? Is he with whatever Gods are left now, planning his revenge? Has he cursed me into this impossible predicament with one of my closest companions' sister?

Even thinking it, Jaime knew that that was not a big enough reason for him to suffer such conflict. Addam was one thing, he was a friend, and Jaime was not planning on dishonouring his friend's sister. Then what am I planning? He asked himself, and still he could not answer that question.

He thought of all the things he had done. Whether they were right, whether they were wrong just because people deemed them dishonourable. Am I really as bad as everyone thinks me to be?

He thought of killing his King, the Mad King, the gurgle of blood from his mouth that had sounded like music to Jaime's ears, meaning that now -finally, the suffering and death would be over. He would never admit, except perhaps to the Wench, but some small part of him wanted people to cheer. A small part of him expected some sort of honourable mention, some sort of prize, Lorraine's flower crown would have been enough. But he convinced himself a long time ago that that was not what he wanted, he would rather think of himself as dishonourable and ruthless than to think himself so weak as to want gratitude and appreciation.

Remembering Lorraine's flower that still lay in his pocket, he pulled it out not knowing what he was to do with it besides stare -which was what he felt towards Lorraine at times. It was still bright orange, Burning Bright, he thought, just like her house words. Yes, still bright, but already starting to wilt. It made him think of Cersei again. He hadn't let himself think of her very often over the past few moons, he hadn't given himself much chance to consider her. She was treacherous, and he did not want to care for her as he should either as a lover or as a brother. But it still hurt him, it still had some sort of an impact, which meant he still cared, he still loved her -at least some part of him. Perhaps that part could only ever die away with her, or the both of them.

For some reason he almost laughed then, he was feeling sorry for himself laying in bed thinking of what he should do in regards to the little mute that had suddenly bewitched him whilst his twin sister, Queen Regent, was rotting away, he did not even know if she was still in a cell. It didn't make him happy, he knew that. It did not bring him joy to think of her wasting away, but he knew she deserved it.

I probably deserve it too. But where am I? Where am I while you are there?

He went back to his dream, the weeping willowy figure sitting in an abandoned room, was that my twin? For a moment he thought, perhaps it may have been his mother. Why else would she lament over failing to save him? Who else would want to save me?

It chilled him, that beautiful golden blonde hair shredding away in his own hands, even the smell of burning flesh resonated through him now, and he could not help but wince at the memory. Who do I have left to weep for me, mother? No one ever has. And he convinced himself he did not want anyone to weep for him. Even if he did he was sure he did not deserve it.

Cersei does not deserve my tears, nor I hers. Who else do I have? Your precious Tywin died the day you did. Your Tyrion despises me now about as much as he despised our father, wherever he may be. What kind of father or uncle had I been to Tommen or Myrcella? Sweet little children born into the ugliest and most malicious of circumstances. What good am I to...my children? Who surely, surely must know what I am...what they are? What good am I, protecting one who is dear whom I also do not know, with one lame hand? I am nothing but a constant reminder of your beautiful hair.

He had insisted on staying in the Kingsguard out of pride. Out of spite. He would not allow anyone to call him broken, even though Brienne had seen him so. He trusted she would not tell a soul of that, somehow.

Considering his history with women, and his subsequent relationships with them, he realised he had not had any female friends with the exception of Brienne. The only women he got a long with were Brienne, his aunt Genna and once upon a time, his mother. Could he count Lorraine yet?
He recalled how his aunt had likened him to all his uncles except for his own father, which had angered him, at least initially, until he had given it the proper thought it deserved. She was right, wholly right, about him. Nothing he had ever done was what Tywin had wanted or what Tywin would have done himself. Would his mother be proud? Surely she would not, his mother loved his father, but would she have loved what he had become without her? Would she love any of them the same way seeing what they had become? Yes, he is a knight and his sister is still a Queen, but he's the Kingslayer, and Cersei would be called the Whore Queen if people had their way.

He let himself ponder what his life would have been like if he had done as his father had always wished, if he had married unstable Lysa Tully before he had been raised to the Kingsguard. He did not know why, but he laughed out loud thinking that Lysa Tully would probably end up throwing herself from the cliffs at Casterly Rock being married to him. But what if he had left the Kingsguard once he had returned to the Capital the way his father had initially ordered him to? Or what if Tyrion had pleaded guilty, and he left his sworn brothers to take his place at Casterly Rock and marry a woman of the West? Would Lorraine Marbrand have crossed his path? Would he want to make her Lady of the Rock?

You do not want to marry, or do anything, with Lorraine Marbrand. He scolded himself. He was afraid to think what would have to happen if there were any truth to that statement.

What kind of life would he, they, have together? He wondered.
She had told me she had never seen the sea before, would she like to? He saw the wind blowing in her hair, a wide smile on her face as her feet splashed through the water. He liked thinking of that, of her smiling, or her being happy.
Could I make her happy? Could I keep her happy? What could I possibly give to Lorraine Marbrand that she does not already have?
But after he had begun to think of her at Casterly Rock he found he could not stop himself. He thought of her ghostly laugh carried through the stone hallways, how she would thank him with her eyes for showing her the caves, how she would sit in the large observatory all afternoon sowing surrounded by the litter of cats he would get for her, how she would wake up next to him in the morning, and he closed his eyes briefly once more as he imagined her lips lightly trace over his. He could have a life with her, children that had her dark hair and his green eyes, he could perhaps grow to love her, and it would be a love he did not have to hide.

He stopped to consider whether that was something she would even want, ignoring for a moment the fact he had almost admitted to himself that he may want that as well. Would she want to be at my castle, away from her family? Would she want to be with me? He let doubt roam his being, willing himself to forget the defying look she gave him not to leave her presence, beseeching him to stay. She had wanted to spend the rest of her morning playing chess with him, but would she want to spend the rest of her life being some sort of experiment to see whether he was truly capable of loving someone?

Shaking it off, he tried to see things objectively. From Tywin Lannister's point of view, Lorraine Marbrand was a near perfect choice for the new Lord of Casterly Rock. As he had remembered before, Jaime's grandmother was Lorraine's great aunt, which made them familiar. Lorraine was still young, perfectly so as well; not young enough to rouse Jaime's guilt and disgust at taking a child as a wife, but not old enough to be of suspicious "child bearing" years. Her mother had given birth to six children, meaning she was probably fertile as well. Children were of no consequence to Jaime, not at the moment at least, but he knew that would be a question everyone would ask, why else would he leave the Kingsguard?

He couldn't believe he was thinking of it. That that was a question in his mind. That it was snowballing into an actual possibility.

Could I? Could I leave the Kingsguard?

And as he asked himself that question over and over again, he saw Lorraine's face and felt once more what she had roused in him. It was not exactly physical. He was not even sure if he was capable of going that far with her, but she had made him want to be better. He wanted to do good things for her. He wanted to be nice and it may have sounded crazy but he felt like all he needed was to deserve someone like her. If he could only try, that would be enough for him. But would it be enough for her?

He could not answer that question, the only answer that consumed him was the little beauty mark by Lorraine's lips, and he wanted to kiss it over and over until it was his own.

He suddenly shot out of bed, a surge of energy overcoming him,

"Lewys!" He waited a few moments until he heard a stumbling sound against his door and a breathless Lewys appeared at his threshold.

"Ser? You called?" He asked, panting.

"Fetch me some scrolls and a quill, I have a letter to write."

"Yes, Ser"

"Actually, fetch a few more scrolls, it'll actually be two letters I need to write."

King Tommen Baratheon, Ruler of The Seven Kingdoms and King of The Andals, my nephew,

I write to you today, my King, knowing you face hard circumstances, and I would firstly like to apologise to my King that I could not be there to support and protect you. My work in the Riverlands could not be left or abandoned, for the peace of the Kingdom.
You are a good, sweet King, Tommen, but I also know that you are strong, so be strong for the ones you love.

I write to you to formally withdraw myself from the service and as Lord Commander of your Kingsguard, seeing as I truly do not feel like I can be of any use to you my King, what good am I with one hand? It is with this that I beseech my King to dismiss me of my role, a role that I have had the honour of having for more than half of my life, so that I can take my rightful place as Lord of Casterly Rock, where I can be of use as it is my birthright. Once I receive word of your approval I shall send my white cloak to you personally. With this, I leave my King with the knowledge that even as your former Lord Commander, I am also and always will be your uncle. I promise to protect you how I can, with all I have, you are my blood.
I pray for the protection of your mother and your wife, both your Queens, day and night and I hope that justice will be served to all that deserve it.

Your Uncle, Ser Jaime Lannister.

Dear Uncle Kevan,

I have already written to Tommen, our King, about what I wish to speak with you about, but I send this to you with the hopes of better understanding and better management of the situation, since you are my King's Regent. Perhaps if Tommen is not so receptive of my appeal, I am confident you will convince him.
I have written to Tommen that I wish to be released from the Kingsguard, just as my father had wished. You can understand me, i'm sure, as a knight that I do not feel like I have much use to my King when I am finally realising I can not be very adequate in protecting him. I pushed this away after my return, refusing to acknowledge that I could not do my duty, but I have come to accept it now, and my duty now lies towards Casterly Rock and the Lannister name, the name you and I share. I know you loved my father, and I know you can never respect me the same way you did him, but I ask you give me the chance to try. I wish to become a better man than everyone thinks me to be, I need this. I must reclaim Casterly Rock for myself, for my father, for everything you and him worked for. I understand it is a lot to ask of you to oversee this, what with everything else that is happening around you, but it is of the utmost importance that you do. I will restore the Lannister name just as my father had, I solemnly swear it to you.
I do urge that you reply swiftly, with a royal decree, so that I may make arrangements for my men, and possibly for a marriage. I am afraid I can not write of this, as nothing is barely anything...I hope you understand. Please consider this, uncle.

Your nephew, Ser Jaime Lannister.

Jaime signed both letters, sealed with his vermillion Lannister seal, and ordered Lewys to send them out on the quickest ravens to King's Landing.

He still did not know how he felt about what he had just done, but he felt easiness rest inside him as he could finally admit that a part of him was brave enough to want someone like Lorraine Marbrand. And it did not matter, he knew it was the right things, perhaps not the most honourable, but the right thing to do -even if Lorraine did not accept, Casterly Rock was his. He smiled to wonder, whether any part of Lorraine Marbrand could want whichever part of Jaime he had to offer?

Looking out from his window overlooking the vast castle grounds, he caught sight of Janyne walking with her arms linked in her husbands', her head resting on his shoulders as the sun set, they were not even speaking but they seemed...content. Would content be enough?
Yards away, he spied the very object of his reverie sat on one of the bridges overlooking the gardens, apparently sowing something into a piece of linen. She was far away, but to Jaime she seemed to look a little sad. Immediately, all Jaime could think of doing was let himself be beaten at chess a thousand times over just to see her smile once more, and for some reason that made him feel better about the letters he had just sent.

Gods help me if I should survive this.