A/N: Back with a new chapter. Hope y'all are liking :D
Finished my story A Terrible Resolve and almost done on my magnum opus Empire of Ice and Fire. Be sure to check them out, as well as my fics Heart of the Blessed and Last Hope For Westeros (on archive of our own).
Also, there are two new stories I read that are pretty interesting; one's called From the Ashes Begin Anew by bykim0120 - it's an alternate telling of Aegon's Conquest while the other is called Wolves of War by my good friend GulfYankee23 that's a post season 8 ressurection/reconciliation fic. Both are really, really good! Check the out!
Enjoy and please comment :D
Chapter 9: Doubts and Discussion
"I can't believe Harren the Black would just stand firm against a dragon." Walking atop the massive walls of the largest keep in Westeros, the moonlight reflecting beautifully over the rippling waters of the God's Eye to their south, Lyanna looked up at the handsome Targaryen Prince. Transfixed at how he described the history of Aegon the Conqueror's war over the Riverlands. His rendition was so much better than how the maesters taught her, and filled with new information.
Rhaegar shrugged, laughing. "Pride goeth before the fall. Harren had absolute power for forty years, probably thought his great castle could withstand even dragonfire." They had walked all over the grounds of the castle, seen by highborns and smallfolk alike. Ladies looked at Lyanna with jealousy, while the men had a combination of admiration and jealousy. Most had seen Elia, and now another beautiful maiden on his arm. All it did was make Rhaegar stand ever straighter, disbelieving of his luck in finding a precious winter rose that Lyanna seemed to be. "'What is outside my walls is of no concern to me. Those walls are strong and thick,' he told my ancestor. Smug cunt."
Giggling, Lyanna pulled herself closer to Rhaegar's torso, seeking out his warmth. The dragonblood within him gave it off in spades. "And what happened next, my Prince?"
A shiver passed through Rhaegar, and it wasn't due to the cold. She is so soft… He thanked the gods that his thick cloak managed to conceal the bulge in his trousers - prurient thoughts about pushing Lyanna against the keep's walls and having her swimming through his mind. "Visenya's personal diary states that Aegon simply looked at Harren, narrowed his eyes, and said 'When the sun sets, your line shall end.' And…" Rhaegar stretched out his arms, one finger pointing to the great Kingspyre Tower, still bearing the scars of being melted away. "He spoke the truth."
Biting her lip, Lyanna wondered if this was all just a dream. Just over a day ago she had been stuck in a betrothal with a whoring oaf who truly cared nothing about her, and now… A dashing Targaryen Prince. Respectful, smart, and just… a beautiful, beautiful man. Lyanna Stark could see a life with this man, for the first time truly desiring a marriage rather than the dream of a wild freedom like those north of the Wall. Her entire life having changed the instant she heard Rhaegar Targaryen sing. That song… "Rhaegar, may I ask you something?"
Taking in her soft voice, Rhaegar chuckled. "Why do you ask, Lyanna? You always have leave to ask a question of me." This was such a deviation from the brave warrior lady he had seen fight the squires the day before. Did he make her this shy and demure?
"Who is Jenny?"
"Jenny?" His brows furrowed. "Where did you get that name?"
"You sang of her." Lyanna blushed, hoping he didn't think less of her - when did I truly care what other people thought?... When you all but have fallen in love with them. Oddly, Lyanna didn't feel shame in being swept off her feet, though she had made fun of her friends for swooning over young knights and warriors. Looking at Rhaegar, she noticed his eyes were wide with shock - it somehow calmed her. "I was out in the woods for… just riding. Getting some air, and I saw you in a clearing with your harp."
Coughing, sputtering, Rhaegar was floored. She heard me? After taking his horse deep into the woods that he knew so well exploring with Oswell just so that no one would ever find him. Clever girl. He didn't let anyone catch him singing in the open, not since his father smashed the first harp his mother had brought for him when he was only ten and three, thrusting a sword in his hand and telling him to spar. Truth be told, there was still a little shame in him for liking the musical arts… and here was the breathtaking Lyanna Stark telling him that she heard. "Jenny of Oldstones. It is a song I wrote and composed myself. Days on Dragonstone are sometimes boring."
Lyanna peered at him, curious. "Who is Jenny? Was she your first love?"
This he could confidently shake his head. "No, gods no. Jenny was my aunt, the wife of my uncle Duncan."
"Duncan Targaryen? The Prince of Dragonflies?" Now that was a name that everyone from the Wall to the Water Gardens knew of. How he gave up his birthright to his younger brother Aerys for the love of a common woman from the Riverlands. "Jenny… she was the woman he loved and married, yes?"
"Aye." Rhaegar sighed. "A lovely woman. Father hated her, but she was too popular to be booted out of court. Aunt Jenny was always kind to me until her death ten years ago. Mother said it was of a broken heart." He still remembered her funeral, attended by at least a hundred thousand people in King's Landing - his father didn't attend, celebrating with a quiet feast of him and his cronies. "I wrote the song several years ago… to honor her memory." Rhaegar smiled wistfully. "She'd always go to ruins of Summerhall every year since Duncan died, to be with the spirits of her beloved."
A tear fell down Lyanna's cheek. "That's beautiful." She put two and two together. "You were born during the fire, correct?"
Rhaegar nodded. "That's why the song has great meaning for me. Uncle Duncan died so that I could live, at least that was what Aunt Jenny said. 'Only death can pay for life.'" Great sorrow overcame him, turning away from his betrothed and leaning forward against the stone battlements. Gazing out over the God's Eye. Willing away the pain of it all until he felt a soft kiss on his cheek.
It was instinct on Lyanna's part, but already she felt her face blush. Hoping she hadn't overstepped some boundary. But that worry was dispelled as he turned his head, smiling at her. A smile that made the she-wolf go weak at the knees. "If… if you must know, my Prince. Your singing was beautiful." She had never heard something more beautiful in her entire life. "I would very much like it if you sang for me."
The prospect was quite appealing to Rhaegar, taking the maiden's hands in his. "That is something I can promise," he smiled widely, stroking her soft skin with his thumb. "I would gladly for my woman. Elia says it's when she feels closest to me…" Rhaegar shut his mouth, realizing the mistake he made. Stupid. Blowing up their happy bubble with things better discussed another time.
Lyanna pulled her hands back, instantly regretting the loss of warmth - wrapping her arms around her torso protectively. "You are still married to another." Much as it complicated things, she had to bring it up.
"I am not letting her aside, Lyanna. Nor does it matter." He ran a hand through his hair. "My father is determined to have me emulate Aegon the Conqueror and I can't disagree with him there?"
"So which would I be? Rhaenys or Visenya?" Lyanna didn't want to be biting, but it slipped out. "The carefree wife without power or the powerful Queen without love." Feeling a tinge of pain at how Rhaegar winced.
"Those characterizations were lies written by men with agendas," Rhaegar shot back, also regretting it at Lyanna's flinch. "I'm sorry, Lyanna… I… fuck. Elia is my wife and the mother of my children. I care about her a great deal but with you… you enthrall me. I really can't explain it."
To have the beautiful Dragon Prince all but throwing himself at you - Lyanna shuddered with warmth, wanting nothing more than for him to strip her naked and take her maidenhead right there, right now. But her mind and heart were a confused cauldron of swirling emotions. It was overwhelming. "I feel the same, Rhaegar. Since I heard you sing I wonder if I've fallen for you completely, but my whole life I've run away from marriage. From being a lady, not from a lack of interest or desire but… I can't explain it either." He moved to embrace her but she backed away. "I would probably choose you in a heartbeat all else being the same, but you being married. Your father practically forcing us together…"
Rhaegar had an inkling of how she felt. "You don't wish to be controlled." Her father, the Faith, Dorne, so many would be predisposed to hate Lyanna upon contact. Hells, he hadn't even really thought of how Elia would feel to see him with actual feelings for his second wife. "To be forced into a life of complete notoriety, thrust into a world where your duties overwhelm your desires?"
She bit her lip again, nodding. Rhaegar read her so well. "I'm sorry, Rhaegar." Tears pricked at her lids, knowing she ruined everything. Being unable to just tell Rhaegar what she wanted, her fears of being caged, even by someone so unlike Robert. By circumstance. I'm just a coward. When he pulled her into an embrace, Lyanna didn't even fight it.
"Don't be sorry, my wolf." Yes, she was his wolf. "It is just the first day of our betrothal. We have plenty of time."
Yes, plenty of time. Perhaps after the Tourney… "You're right." She laughed weakly. "It's only been one day."
He laughed as well. "One damn day." Soon, both were clutching the other, laughing uproariously at how silly it all was. The price of being a royal. He kissed her forehead. "It has been enough for one day. How about I escort you back to your family."
Lyanna still felt the tingle of his lips against her skin. Even with all her reservations and emotions, it was so wonderful. Like they belonged there. "Thank you." She smiled so widely, letting him guide her back to her tent.
Polishing off a dispatch to Maester Luwin, Rickard Stark picked up another sheif of letters from the Night's Watch. Scanning the first line, the Lord Commander was going on about desertions and the need for more recruits. The Lord of Winterfell put in a mental note to ask the Queen or Prince Rhaegar about emptying the Black Cells for men to send there when some hushed voices came from outside the tent. Tiptoeing to peek, he saw the Prince with his darling she pup. Kissing her hand as she blushed.
Young love. Shaking his head with a smile, Rickard went back to his desk just as Lyanna walked in. "Oh…" She looked startled. "I didn't expect you to be up, father."
"Getting some work done. The business of a Lord never sleeps," he chuckled. "Come sit with me." The graceful young lady did as bidded. Growing more and more like her mother every day. "I've come to an arrangement with the crown with which to give my blessing to your betrothal to the Crown Prince."
Beaming, Lyanna threw her arms around her father. The prospect of marrying Rhaegar - no matter what concerns she had shared with him - still filled the she-wolf with happiness. He cares for me. He respects me. They even found the same book as their favorite. Lyanna really didn't believe in fate, but this sure seemed like it. "Thank you, father. Thank you."
Rickard laughed, hugging her back. Feeling the joy at seeing his little pup like this - it truly assuage his guilt about Robert. The old gods provided for her… But she was still so young. He had barely raised her how to be a proper southern lady, let alone a Queen. Cersei Lannister or Elia Martell all had lifelong education in court procedure and southern politics. Starks don't do well south of the Neck. The only ones he remembered that did so were Theon the Hungry Wolf and Cregan, who were utterly ruthless and cunning.
That's what we'll have to be.
"You are the best father I could have ever asked for."
Nearly melting at her words, Rickard had to force himself to remain serious. "Your joy brings me joy, little pup, but I fear you may still be buried in your novels to understand the gravity of the situation."
Pulling back from their embrace, Lyanna sat back. Hands on her lap as she sighed. Another one of her father's kindly lectures… Ironically the last time had been when she was informed of her impending betrothal to Robert Baratheon, but now there wasn't anything to worry about on that front. "How so, father?"
"You won't be alone in going to King's Landing. The Queen - on behalf of His Grace - offered me the open post of Master of Laws and I have accepted." He watched as Lyanna's eyes lit up in pride for her family. "Brandon and Ned will accompany us, Ned until the wedding and Brandon for six months after. Benjen also has a position on the Kingsguard if he wants it."
Lyanna couldn't believe it. Her family was going to be in the capitol with her. Even Benjen. "Father, that's wonderful!"
"It is very prestigious. But you have to realize, Lyanna, Rhaegar isn't the King." The sparkle in her eyes began to falter and Rickard hated it. "I haven't met him yet, but from what your brothers tell me he is a kind and intelligent man. He is not the King, Aerys is. All the rumors of him are true, and the court in King's Landing has gotten correspondingly worse - not that it wasn't already a lime pit to start with." He reached out and held his pup's hand. "You were lucky experiencing the North or the Vale. We northmen are blunt and honest, while Jon Arryn takes the knightly vows quite seriously. The rest of court is not the same."
"I know, father. I read the stories of the Dance of Dragons." Intense dragon battles and torrid love affairs were one thing, but even Viserys II detailed just how cutthroat and vicious that hemmed both the war and the period leading up to it.
Scooting over, tucking his daughter against his shoulder, Rickard kissed her forehead. "It's one thing to read about it, and another to experience it. You will be thrust into the biggest den of vipers there is, not to mention being the second wife that will only earn hate simply for existing."
She lowered her head. "Dorne and the Faith…"
"Yes." It broke his heart to dampen her dreams, but it was necessary. "You'll need to both lean on your betrothed, but also learn quickly to stand on your own two feet. To deal in circles that will need subterfuge and cunning - if you truly think being the second Queen to Prince Rhaegar is worth it, then tell me now."
Pursing her lips, staring off into the distance, all Lyanna could think about was her betrothed's singing voice - serenading her without him even knowing it. "It is worth it, father."
Rickard smiled. "Come'ere little pup." This time the embrace didn't break apart.
Given the stubborn need for her father to remain at his desk for hours, burning the midnight candle wicks till they were mere nubs, it was closer to dawn than dusk when Lyanna was able to sneak out of the tent. The guards were concerned with someone getting in, not out - it was just a matter of daring and patience. Lyanna possessing much of the later and enough of the former. Cloak wrapped tightly around her, she disappeared into the maze of tents. Ignoring the moonlight in favor of the shadows.
As such, she found Dacey and Howland rather tired and perturbed. "What the fuck took you so long?" hissed the she-bear, hands on her hips and teeth chattering. "It's cold as a blizzard." Howland said nothing out of respect for her, but Lyanna could tell he was miserable.
"Forgive me," she replied genuinely. "Father was working late and it hampered my opportunities for sneaking out." Lyanna felt a bit annoyed at first, but seeing how chilly they were did temper her anger. "So what do we have?"
"Waldron and the others have scheduled tilts for two days from now. As part of the first time contenders," Howland informed them both. While the first tilts in the joust would be tomorrow, no one expected the first timers to compete against veterans immediately. They had one day to prove themselves, which was also the day of the melee championship.
"The damn southern system is so complicated and stupid," Dacey complained, "But mystery knights are allowed in, so we're good to go there." She raised an eyebrow. "Unless we're having second thoughts?"
Was Lyanna? The whole situation with Rhaegar had thrown her for a loop. Ending up as Queen, a whole different sort of cage within the chamber of King Aerys… nothing she had trained for, and there was the presence of Princess Elia. How did Rhaenys and Visenya handle it? How did Maegor's brides? Did they hate each other or saw the others as sisters? Did they get him one day? Did they share him or even each other…? Lyanna blushed at the absurd concept, but it served to highlight what she was getting into. I may have rejoiced too soon…
She shook her head. No, Rhaegar is perfect. Her Prince Daemon… But what if he only wants a proper lady as well. He would be respectful and faithful and loving, of this she had no doubt, but Lyanna didn't think she could handle being forced to reject all she was to be some trophy Queen.
All in all, perhaps kicking the ass of an arrogant Frey goon was the best thing for her. "No, no second thoughts. Let's fuck those cunts up."
Dacey grinned like a hungry bear. "Fuck yeah, and you're gonna love this. Howland finished your sigil."
Lyanna raised an eyebrow. "Nothing too obvious, I hope?"
The crannogman smiled sheepishly. "No, I'm careful." Taking out the shield, it became abundantly clear he had a sense of humor far taller than he could ever be. "Well?"
Taking the shield, Lyanna ran her fingers down the intricate artwork. Howland had went all out. A weirwood tree, trunk thick and roots gnarled beneath. The blood-red leaves sprinkled the entire top of the shield, but such wasn't the distinctive feature. In the center of the trunk was a carved face, but a laughing one. Frozen in a state of mocking amusement.
At her quizzical look, Howland grinned. His still purple and fresh bruises seeming to heal slightly with his joy. "For the lamentations of House Frey when you vanquish them."
Yes, this was exactly what Lyanna needed.
The tent for House Baratheon - having just been beaten out of the second to last guest chamber in the keep by the Hightowers, Robert graciously allowing Jon Arryn to take the final room - was among the other Stormlands Houses. As such, Ned found himself in unfamiliar territory, brushing past knights that largely gave him the cold shoulder. Mostly he kept to himself, but a rather surly stare from a knight of House Trant found him giving back as good as he got.
Ned was not in the mood to take shit from anyone. Dour and quiet as always, inside burned a white hot flame of rage - one having simmered within him for the last day. It's not about you, Ned. It's about Lyanna. He had avoided Jon Arryn, but knew just what the man would tell him about keeping both family and friends. Doing the honorable thing by both. And in spite of his rage that was what he planned to do.
Unlike the other Stormlands lords, the Baratheon retinue was comprised of Robert's own men that had accompanied him to the Vale. Knowing Ned quite well, they let him into the tent without fuss. Inside, Robert was preening over a mounted set of armor. At Ned clearing his throat, the Lord of Storm's End turned around. He grinned broadly. "Ah, Ned! Ya' made it, finally!"
Finding him swept in a big bear hug, Ned coughed and sputtered incoherently. "Robert… yer' crushin' me…"
Robert chuckled and dropped him down. "'Ere, brother, come and have a look see." Gesturing his meaty paws to the set of armor, he smiled proudly. "This was me grandfather's armor. Never lost a tourney in them. Gonna enter the joust and win this one - just as I promised your sister. She'll be my Queen of Love and Beauty."
Worse than I thought. Ned shouldn't have been surprised - from what Lyanna said happened, Robert wasn't going to let this go. "It is horrible form to crown a lady betrothed to someone else… especially the future Queen."
"Are you japin' me Ned? You're father's actually going through with it?" Robert regarded him as if he spouted five heads. "The King is my great-uncle, and I know more about him than most thanks to that. This is a flight of fancy on his part." Robert… what is wrong with you? Could being enamored by Lyanna be clouding his sense… or did he have little sense to begin with? "Rhaegar put him up to it, the cunt. I'm gonna make sure he's humiliated before the entire tourney."
"Don't do this, Robert. Don't pressure the King on this. It's done, my father has already authorized the betrothal in exchange for a large bride price and the position of Master of Laws…"
His friend's eyes blazed fury. "You sold that beautiful sun and stars like a piece of meat?! She deserves better!"
Ned's jaw dropped - as if Robert thought he had the moral authority to speak. "Betrothal negotiations for my sister do not involve you, my friend. I know there was talk to betroth Lyanna to you, but my father has formally rescinded the offer upon learning of the King's."
"So you'll let Lyanna be a broodmare slut? Some plaything to be humiliated by the Dornish?"
Taking a deep breath, it took all of Ned's honor and restraint to rein in his temper. "Robert, you are my dear friend. We are like brothers and have been for years, so I'm asking you as your friend and brother, please… please just let this go." The ruddy blue eyes were expressionless. "You are a Lord Paramount. Ladies from the seven Kingdoms will throw themselves at you. I… I…" I don't want you to put your whoring paws on my dear sister. She is marrying a good man.
"You what, Ned?" Robert asked him flatly. The wolf of Winterfell hadn't ever seen the stag so… composed. He had always been larger than life.
"Please just leave it alone. My father has already arranged things with the Crown, and we're not going to risk the fury of the Mad King just so you and I can be brothers in name as well as in spirit. I'm sorry it didn't work out, Robert, but please just let it be." Without waiting for Robert to finish, Ned turned and left - not wanting to add to the headache of challenging his best friend for the first time in his life.
Eyes trained on the tent flap, Robert sighed. Stretching his arms and rolling his neck. "Oh Ned, so afraid of the King," he said to no one in particular. "You may be scared, but not Robert Baratheon." Ours is the Fury. Lyanna was his - she loved him, not some dragonspawn using his poppa to steal brides for him. To play Maegor and his Black Brides. Picking up the shield, emblazoned with the great stag of House Baratheon… and House Durradon before it… Robert grinned. Imagining how he would crown his beloved as the Queen of Love and Beauty. Shaming the King into giving up this farce.
I'll protect you, my sweet wolf.
"For you, your Grace." Setting the cup of spiced wine on the table, still steaming from the kitchens, Jaime smiled as the Queen's eyes widened. Savoring her look of pleased surprise.
Rhaella picked up the hearty drink in her hand, sipping from the brew. A sigh escaped her lips. "Delicious," she moaned happily, a sound that made Jaime thank the gods above he wore an armored codpiece over his crotch. Might have been embarrassing and improper had he not… saved him countless times over the last several months. "What was this for, Ser Jaime?"
He sipped at his own drink. "You looked cold, and I was already heading down for my own drink. What kind of Knight would I be had I allowed a beautiful royal Lady to endure discomfort." He was laying it on a bit thick, but the King was asleep and the glass of wine from dinner emboldened him.
A blush formed on her cheek… due to the wine or Jaime he couldn't tell. He hoped it was the latter. "You didn't have to do that." Her gaze shifted to the fireplace. "A servant would have sufficed."
"Servants are lazy and overrated. When you care if something is to be done quickly," Jaime beamed as Rhaella looked at him, violet eyes sparkling and silver curls running down the bare shoulders of her nightdress - he was desperate to stare into them, running his hands through her hair as he kissed her. "You do it yourself."
Playing with fire, Jaime. For some reason his inner voice of caution sounded like Tyrion.
"Well…" Rhaella smiled widely at Jaime, slight tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Ser Jaime. No one really does that for me anymore." Let alone my husband the King…
"Anyone who doesn't is a fool," he replied, meaning every word.
Opening her mouth to say something else, the Queen thought better of it. "It's getting late, Ser Jaime. You have my leave to go and rest." Part caring, part dismissive. The wine was starting to get to her and she needed to control her decorum.
Slightly saddened yet knowing deep down it was for the best - there was a line he could never cross with the Queen, even thought gods' knew how much he wanted to - Jaime bowed. "Good night, your Grace. I shall be here on the morrow."
"Night, Ser Jaime," she replied with a brilliant smile. Finishing her wine, she wondered if it caused the butterflies in her stomach. Yes, it has to be it. The Queen had long since determined she should be content with what she had. It's not like you can ever dream…
Meanwhile, even being dismissed couldn't end Jaime's good mood as he walked down the airy hallways of the great castle. Buzzed and being able to make the quiet, melancholy Queen Rhaella smile was more he could have hoped for. He could just envision his father shaking his head, completely humiliated at how plebeian his golden lion had become, but Jaime didn't care. Tyrion was better suited to the game of thrones than he. All Jaime wanted was a life of love and honor, the dashing knight to be lionized in the songs as Ser Aemon or Ser Duncan.
Jaime's quarters were said to be built for Harren the Black in order to house his elite Ironborn guards. It fit perfectly for the Kingsguards, a simple cot, brazier, and writing desk all that they really needed. Looking forward to a decent sleep after the chaos of the last few days, it took him a moment before realizing there was a feminine figure waiting outside. "Excuse me, lady…" His eyes did a double take. "Cersei?"
Sure enough, there was his sister. Clad in a wrinkled dress and leaning against the wall. As if having waited for a long time to see him. "So I see her Grace saw fit to dismiss you," she said dismissively.
"Do not talk of her like that," Jaime replied firmly. "What do you want?"
"The Lady Lannister cannot come to see her twin brother?"
After our past… not a good idea. They had agreed to part ways long before, it being the best option for the both of them. But in the end, he couldn't deny Cersei's request. "Come into my chambers." Jaime did not want his sworn brothers to listen on his private matters, and no one would think suspiciously of sister and brother speaking for a short while. At least no one that doesn't truly know us. Frankly, he figured only Tyrion truly knew, and their younger brother wouldn't say anything.
Cersei sat on the cot, hands on her lap. Jaime took the seat at the far end of it, but turned to her. "Why are you here, Cersei? We could have spoken at any time during the day."
"I wanted to get you alone… no, not like that," she said as he cocked a brow at her, only to sigh deeply. "Alright, part of me wished for that, but after the day I had you'd forgive me for hoping."
There was a time Jaime would have came running if she motioned for him, or would have lost himself in her during a trying period… but not since Rhaella. Not since he found his angel - even if he could never be with her. "Does this have something to do with the Prince's betrothal?" Had he not known better, he could have sworn there were tears in her eyes… wait, there were tears! "Sweet sister." Jaime reached over and pulled her into his arms.
She hated being this weak, but Cersei couldn't help it. "He rejected me, brother. I… I think he's enamored with the Stark bitch."
Anyone with eyes can see he's enamored with her. Jaime bit his tongue. "It's a good match, Cersei. Binds the North, Vale, and Riverlands to the Crown. Rhaegar would be a fool not to accept it."
"But I was to be Queen! Father promised me!" Deep down, the lioness knew that it was hopeless. Seeing Rhaegar, hearing him dismiss her, she knew that all chance of being his queen was lost… but part of her still couldn't believe it, and all of her needed to get it out.
"Cersei…" Jaime pulled back, hoping that the brutal truth would end this and let her move on. "The King… he hates father."
She blinked. "Father was his longtime friend and longtime hand. Why would the King hate him? Because father left to manage home?"
And of course she, not being versed in court politics like he or their parents, would buy Tywin Lannister's excuse. "That's not the case. His Grace dismissed him because he feared father was plotting against him."
"Why would he think that?"
"I don't know, Cersei. Maybe he was plotting, maybe the King is delusional. In any case, you'd probably be used as a hostage if you were anywhere close to Rhaegar." He looked her in the eyes. "I see how he treats Princess Elia… how he treats his own wife. I cannot watch and see that happen to you, so please just let the Prince marry Lady Lyanna. Don't dwell on what you can never have." He dwelled on it every day. You are a hypocrite, Jaime.
Gazing at him, Cersei suddenly surged forward, lips on his. Desperately seeking some form of comfort, a validation after what her father had planned for so long and what she had dreamed for so long collapsing around her.
Jaime pushed her off. "We can't, sister." Truth be told, the thought of any lips on his but the Queen's just made him shudder.
Quiet, Cersei pulled back, not looking at him. "Think it would have been different, Jaime? Had you not left for the Kingsguard?" Had it not been for… But Jaime didn't know about that. No one knew…
Shaking his head, Jaime took her hands in his. "I love you, sister… sometimes in a way that only Targaryens should, but it would have been our downfall."
"How do you know?"
"I know, Cersei. I just do." Being with the Queen sobered his mind. Made him realize many things about himself, about what love and duty meant. "We can never be that way again… and neither can you and the Prince." Realization finally finding her expression, Cersei just fell into his brotherly embrace, Jaime allowing himself to comfort her.
Perhaps they would be alright.
A/N: They are in love, but just don't know it yet. Still some issues that are keeping them from fully going in.
Rickard and Benjen are both moving to King's Landing, so Lya won't be alone :D
Robert... don't even try it.
Well, RIP Jaime/Cersei. More will be revealed eventually, but fundamentally it had to die. That's half of what caused Cersei to spiral into being irredeemable, the other half being marrying Robert.
Next up, the Knight of the Laughing Tree.
