Author's Note: Happy New Year! Thank you all for reading my story.

Chapter 7: Secrets of the Past

It had been ten days since the King's party returned to King's Landing. Ten days where Jaime Lannister watched as his peers unknowing grew closer to a hopeless fate.

Jaime wished his brother had heeded his advice and came home with him. Maybe then he could enjoy a nice breakfast with Myrcella without Cersei glaring at him to keep his distance. He wanted one successful change to the rigid timeline he experienced before. But all that changed was that Tommen was now far, far away, and that Stark came to King's Landing alone. Small, insignificant changes.

As he spent yet another day standing outside the King's chamber, Jaime wanted to throttle Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark until their innards spilled to the ground. Ever since they returned to King's Landing, and the King had spent his every moment either fucking or playing cards. Ned Stark continued to follow Robert along like a lapdog, heeding his every command, begging for a pat on the back.

In his previous life, Jaime had been so lost in his own ballad of misery and pleasure with Cersei, that Jaime failed to care too hard about how terrible the so-called King had made Kings Landing. But now everything stunk far worse than the shallow hole he slept in as a prisoner during the war.

Jaime had lacked any interest towards Stark's frequent jabs against his family and his blind trust to the devious snake Petyr Baelish. He had seen too many men fall for that snake's games.

As much as he tried to channel his wroth into bouts with other knights, Jaime still felt this upset writhing in his stomach. Why did it matter that Stark trusted his betrayer?

I don't care.

As much as Jaime wished that he was true, he could not stop thinking about Bran's instructions.

"To ensure the defeat of the Night King, you must stop the War of Five Kings. It's simple. You must align my family with yours. Make sure that Baelish doesn't succeed. You will know what to do when he creeps behind you. Trust Stark. It's the only way to save your children."

If Bran was truthful, the only way to save the realm and his children was through an alliance with the Starks. Of course, the boy could have lied for his family sake. But Jaime doubted that. It did make sense. If Stark never listened to Baelish and learned his children's true parentage, Cersei would never have felt the need to end Stark. The war would have never occurred. All he needed was an alliance with Stark. But how could he convince the man to trust him, to move beyond their mutual hatred?

"Wonder who he's fucking today." Ser Preston whispered to Jaime. The short man looked unwell as his cheeks were sallow.

"Some daughter of one of the local draper's," Jaime said blankly. Too disinterested to make a jab. Everyone knew Robert's woman of the day was the daughter of Ser Preston's paramour.

"I heard Stark's men talking about you," Ser Preston shared.

"I have no care for some idle gossip," Jaime droned. "The Stark's hate me. Everyone knows that."

"They said you were speaking to the original Brandon Stark at that stupid tree. I never knew you were friends with …"

"Stop," Jaime barked, his ears ringing. "That's just a silly rumor. You know I don't care for Starks, especially a dead one."

"You don't …," Ser Preston stared at Jaime and bit his lip; he probably noticed the glare in his companion's eyes. "I would think you want to know what they're."

"I don't care." Jaime leaned over the smaller men, scowling.

Ser Preston bowed his head, blushing. "I mean no disrespect. I simply wish to speak about something for once instead of standing silent for hours."

"Well, it is our job." Jaime stood straighter as Robert's door opened.

Instead of the frizzy haired woman Jaime was expecting, Stark walked out. The new Hand of the King's forehead furrowed as he gazed between the two Knights. He stared at Jaime for a few moments before Robert spoke behind him.

"Come on, Ned. Tell the Small Council what I said, and ensure the tourney is grand."

Still staring at Jaime, Stark said, "I will. After I speak to Ser Jaime. I am sure Ser Preston can handle watching your door alone for a time."

"Fine. Do as you wish. But make sure to start preparing for the tourney by the end of the day." Robert laughed jovially. Jaime's ears burned from the high inflection of the noise.

"I will, your Grace."

Robert continued to laugh as he closed his door. What a loon.

"What can I help you with today, Lord Stark? I thought Lord Baelish had it handled with enough instructions on how to fail miserably in King's Landing." Jaime asked as he followed Stark through the hallway, and into an empty room.

Stark said quietly. "As you know an assassin tried to murder my son and your nephew. I have been looking into it and my men have told me some confusing things. They mentioned that before Jacks was found, you seemed to know that someone would fall. That you acted like Bran was in danger. How did you know? Do you know who had it out to harm my men?"

Jaime snorted. Maybe this was the right time to heed Bran's instructions. He doubted this would work, but it never hurt to try. "Well, I'm from the future where Bran fell off the tower instead."

"Do not mock me," Stark said sternly.

"The Seven Hells," Jaime swore. What was the point? Jaime would rather work with a snail than with Stark. "Believe what you want. What happened no longer concerns me."

As Jaime stormed out, he wished that he had a clue on how to change the future. With his luck, nothing major would change.

Jaime yawned as he entered his small room. Due to his family's name, he was lucky to have his own room. Good riddance; Jaime had enough of his fellow knights in the tents back and forth from Winterfell. Ser Preston had snored up a storm each night, and Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Boros Blout gossiped each night like they were half-wit ladies.

"Took you ages. Where have you been?" His sister's melodic voice tore him from his aloof state.

Jaime had been expecting Cersei to come by his room eventually, but he had hoped to be more alert. He had hoped for a restful night after standing around the entire day with one of his least favorite knights and his conversation with Stark.

"Standing like a statue. Boros took forever to take over my shift." Jaime yawned again. "As much as I'm happy to see you, I'm not in the mood tonight."

"Please, you have been ignoring me for weeks." Cersei pouted and licked her lips. "You owe me."

Jaime sighed and grabbed her hands to his chest. As he glanced into her shining green eyes, Jaime wished he could forget all the pain the other Cersei brought. "You know I want to. But everyone is on high alert right now. People think we killed Jon Arryn."

"We did not. We should not suffer for someone else's misdeed. Remember, it's the two of us against the world," Cersei implored.

"There was a time when that was enough." Jaime longed for those days, when he was unashamed for his love for Cersei. When he believed that all his shame was worth it because he had done vile acts to protect her and their children. "Times have changed."

Cersei leaned in and he smelled her meaty breath. As their lips met, he forgot all his shame.

All would have remained well if he had kept his eyes closed. But eventually he did because he wanted to see his lovely sister. She looked like a wight again; her undead eyes rolled around her sockets. Was he doomed to see her as such every time he let her in?

"More," Cersei moaned. "Stop stopping. I have enough of this game."

She sounded so normal, so beautiful.

"It is not a game." He will not run away this time. Despite her ghostly eyes, this was still the woman he loved. She was not the crazy Cersei who lost her humanity. She was the Cersei who longed for freedom from her abusive husband and loved him and their children. This Cersei deserved better than a coward.

"Then quit playing with me."

"I'm sorry," Jaime said softly. "I'm a little unnerved from a conversation with Stark."

"Really, you talk to him. I would think he would keep his distance." Cersei laughed.

"He thinks I'm somehow involved with what happened to our Tommen and Bran."

"Careful, he's not yours." Yes. He is. Jaime wanted to shout. "I heard people spreading gossip of your supposed friendship with Brandon Stark."

"It's all false," Jaime said quickly. "I never knew him."

"Pity. He was the best of the Starks." Cersei smiled dreamily. "I actually knew him. He sometimes came to Casterly Rock with his boorish father. As the late Lord slept, we spent many nights drinking wine. I found myself enthralled by his long, brown locks. His cheekbones were to die for."

"Cersei," Jaime said. "You do not need to lie."

"Jealous, are you?" Cersei smirked. "With this dreadful game you have been playing the past few weeks, I almost thought you left me for good. Glad my relationship with a dead man has sparked your interest again."

"Cersei," Jaime began. "You have to be kidding. Why have you never mentioned him before?"

"Why would I? I meant many gallant men in my life. Why should I mention them all to you?" Cersei snorted. "Anyways, when it comes to Brandon, at least I was better around him then his betrothed's sister."

"I don't care about Lysa Arryn's transgressions. What I care about is you and your infidelity."

Cersei glowered as she punched him in his arm. "Enough." She sniffed. "I had enough of your game. Come find me when you realize that you do not want to give up a lifetime of our love. I do not recognize the coward in front of me."

That night Jaime dreamed of a woman he lost long ago. He was surprised how lucid he felt. Usually his dreams were faint and, once over, soon forgotten.

His mother looked so beautiful, like Cersei in her prime. Her golden hair fell in waves and her green eyes sparkled with mirth. She was sitting in a small room in an unfamiliar tavern. He knew it was a tavern from the loud noises outside the door and the wooden barrel of ale near her feet.

A long-haired man entered with two empty jugs. Jaime was almost certain this was his father. He could not imagine his mother with anyone else. "Ready to celebrate! I still cannot believe our plan worked."

His mother gazed sadly back. "I want to, Tywin. Today should be a grand one. We finally got a hold of Casterly Rock. Father is preparing for our great return. Mother is watching over the servants. But he's … I still feel him watching. He's in every shadow waiting for the right time to swallow me whole."

Jaime let out a gasp. Who had dared to scare his mother so?

"He won't take you. I will protect you."

Joanna sniffed. "I wish we could. But he's a prince. The heir to the king. We cannot deal with Aerys as we just did with the Reynes."

"You're right," Tywin said shortly. "It won't be as easy. But I know you will figure out a way to come out ahead. No one but you would have thought of sealing the minds."

His mother smirked. "I wish I could have heard their screams." This must be a false dream. His mind is playing tricks. His mother was sweet and warm like Myrcella; she was not as vindictive as Cersei.

"It was a song to remember." His father's youthful blue eyes shone with pride.

This was sickening. Jaime's mother was better than this impersonator in front of him.

"Tomorrow we will walk through the halls of Casterly Rock." His father grinned sheepishly. "As it's lord and lady, we simply need to keep our emotions in check and the time will come for the ruination of the Targaryens."

As his fake mother and father embraced, the dream froze. For a second, Jaime thought he was dying, but then he heard the crackle of a familiar child-like voice. "The secrets of the past sure are daunting."