I thought that this story was not worth my time, but the people who reviewed, added it to their favourite stories and are now following it changed my mind! Thank you all!

I want to tell you in advance that the next chapter will not be up so soon as this one. I'm leaving on holidays, so I won't have time for my story. However, I promise that when I'm back, I'll be dedicated to my story. Feel free to read other of my stories. If you're looking for a really good J/C story, I strongly recommend "Emerald & Gold" by Det. Jim Bradshaw.

JAIME

Jaime spent his waking hours thinking of Cersei. He was getting closer and closer to her, to the only woman that he had ever desired and loved. He had been away from her for so long, and although he wanted nothing as much as to be with her once again, there were times that he doubted and wondered. Will she still want me now? How will I look like to her now? I am no longer her reflection; she is still beautiful, no doubt, but I am…broken, damaged, aged.

Brienne did not speak to him that much anymore, not after he had saved her from that bear. He guessed he had something to do with him saying, "I dreamed of you." Well, he had indeed. He had dreamed of his ancestors as well, it had not meant anything.

Not that he cared really. He did not mind silence. It gave him more time to think, to think of Cersei and Tyrion, even Joffrey. He was his son after all, although he had never felt like it. Joffrey was his seed in all truth, not his son. Cersei had never allowed him to treat the boy like a son. People would grow suspicious, she would always tell him. Now everyone knew about his relationship with his sister. They did not understand it, but they knew. However, now it was too late. The boy could never be his son.

He looked at his stump. Vargo Hoat gave the impression of a fool, but he was no such thing. He could have cut off Jaime's left hand or even a foot for that matter. But no, he chose his right hand, his sword hand. Jaime had been nothing but a sword hand in his whole life, it seemed. He had used it for his House, for Tywin, for Cersei, for Tyrion. And now it was gone.

He looked at the beast of a woman riding behind him. She still had her right hand. She could fight still. Jaime could not. He had no idea what he could do anymore. He had always been good at fighting, he did not seem to be good at anything else. How could he be a Kingsguard without his sword hand? How could he protect the people he loved without his sword hand?

His thoughts wandered back to Cersei on their own accord. Would she want him now? Would she let him touch her, rest his disgusting stump of a hand on her perfect, porcelain skin? Or would she tell him no? Would she send him away from her, out of her bed? Would she stop talking to him altogether?

"You seem troubled, ser", he heard a voice near him. He turned around and saw Qyburn.

"I am thinking", he said. "Yes, I do that too."

Qyburn chuckled. If he knew what Jaime was thinking about, he probably would not be so cheerful. "I never thought otherwise", he said. "I just found it a little odd that you are troubled now. You are almost home. And you saved Brienne of Tarth."

Had Brienne talked to Qyburn? Had that rescuing meant something? "Yes, I suppose I'm not that much of a villain anymore…Don't tell anyone!"

Qyburn had a smile on his face that did not seem willing to go away. It actually bothered Jaime, although he did not really know why. He only wanted some peace and quiet, silence and isolation. He wanted to be with no one but Cersei.

"You are thinking of your sister, are you not?" the master with no chain asked. "Her son is getting married, and you, the boy's…nephew and the Commander of the Kingsguard, are not yet there."

Jaime did not like the way that his healer had said the word "nephew". Many people—perhaps most people—believed that he and Cersei had committed—what a cruel word for it—incest and all of Cersei's children had been given to her by Jaime, but it was really rare when someone actually hinted at it in front of Jaime. Brienne had spoken of it freely, the stupid wench believing that he was actually violating his sister. And now Qyburn's turn had come.

"You are right", Jaime said as if he had not noticed a thing. "I would like to see my family, but I am afraid I will not make it in time for my king's wedding."

Qyburn looked at him and nodded. Then he rode on, leaving Jaime alone. Had he expected Jaime to just say, "Yes, I want to see my sister again, to hold her and kiss her and fuck her; I want to see my son get married with a beautiful young woman"?

He kept thinking of his family. Of his cold father, of his lovely sister, of his little brother, of his children. Most of the members of his family did not even know how he felt about them. If he made it back to King's Landing, if he saw them again, he would make sure that they would know. And he would make Cersei his wife.

All of a sudden, all the riders stopped to a halt. Jaime rode closer in order to see what was going on. There was a figure walking. A woman most likely, judging from her long hair. Yes, definitely a woman: she was wearing a gown.

Jaime looked at her closely as she stopped walking; she had noticed them. She was tall and…No, it could not be. Jaime thought that he was dreaming again, that thinking of her made her appear in front of him even when he was awake. But then he heard someone whisper, "The queen…" and he knew.

It was Cersei.

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