Love Never Dies

Jaime sought out his sister that night, knowing that it would be their last night together for quite some time. Cersei would have to return to King's Landing with her drunk of a husband and Jaime would have to stay in Casterly Rock with his wife. For the first time in years, they would be separated. Cersei was his other half, the love of his life – he had to see her, honour be damned.

Very few knew the secret passageways of Casterly Rock as he did. As a child, Jaime often sneaked out of his bedroom late at night to explore the keep. As he grew older, he used his knowledge of the passageways to go to Cersei's bedroom undetected.

The halls were lit only by the lantern in his hand and Jaime had to crouch down as the ceiling was too low for a decently sized man. He set the lantern onto the floor and knocked at the ceiling. He heard the rustling of footsteps before Cersei set aside the floor-board, revealing Jaime. He smirked up at her.

"Hello, sister," he drawled, climbing into Cersei's bedroom with his lantern. He blew out the flame when there was no more need of it.

"What were you thinking?" Cersei exclaimed, face flushed and angry. "My husband was just here! Had he stayed only a few moments longer, he would have seen you! He would have-"

"I don't care about Robert and what he might have done to us," Jaime declared, stepped towards Cersei. He cupped her face in his hands, delighted when she didn't push him away like she had at his wedding. "Fuck Robert. Fuck the Starks. Fuck them all. All I care about is you and me."

Cersei smiled at him. Her cheekbones were highlighted by the candlelight and her golden hair shone bright in the dimly lit room. She had never looked more lovely. But then her smile turned sour and she pushed him away. "And your wolf bride? What about her?"

"Lyarra? What about her?" Jaime repeated, watching his sister with confusion and she poured herself a glass of wine.

When Cersei faced him again, her expression was angry as she snarled at him. "I was walking past your chambers this morning when I heard you two. Do you enjoy fucking her, Jaime? Your little child bride?"

Jaime stiffened, but tried to seem unaffected. "Father has ordered me to sire a child on her. What else am I to do?"

His twin laughed without humour. "Oh, fuck her as often as you please, by all means. It shouldn't be difficult. She's quite pretty, don't you think? Like a little doll."

"Are you jealous of Lyarra Stark?" Jaime asked her. He chuckled darkly. "I have spent the last seventeen years standing out your bedroom door as Robert took you. Now you have just a taste of what that's like and you've decided to punish me for it?"

"I'm not jealous of that little girl," Cersei denied. "I pity her, actually. You're not as handsome as you used to be nor as vigorous in bed."

"I think I satisfy my wife well enough, sister," Jaime retorted, flashing Cersei an arrogant smirk. "Of course, a man can't know for certain, but judging by how she screamed my name as I fucked her-"

His gloating was interrupted by a harsh slap. His cheek stung, but Jaime met his sister's glare with a grin. He caught her wrist and spun her around so that her back was pressing against his chest as his arms kept her in place.

She wriggled against him. "Let me go!"

"Never," he swore, his voice husky in her ear. "You're leaving tomorrow. I don't want to spend our last night tomorrow arguing."

"I suspect we'll be seeing each other soon enough. Eddard Stark has been made Hand of the King," Cersei told him, using his momentary shock to step away from him.

"Stark accepted?" That was unlike Ned Stark. The man hated the south and all the politics and games that came with it.

Cersei nodded. "I was surprised too. I do not like it, Jaime. Robert should have asked you."

"Gods forbid," Jaime replied lazily, sitting himself down at the end of Cersei's bed. "It's not an honour I'd want. There's far too much work involved. Their days are long and their lives are short."

"Don't you see the danger this puts us in?" Cersei began to pace up and down her bedroom. Once his sister started fretting about nothing, there was no sating her. "Robert loves the man like a brother."

Jaime scoffed. "Robert can barely stomach his brothers. Not that I blame him. Stannis would be enough to give anyone indigestion." He had never been fond of Stannis Baratheon. The man was dutiful and loyal, but he was also cold and unforgiving. Stannis had never approved of Jaime.

"Don't play the fool," Cersei chastised. "Stannis and Renly are one thing, and Eddard Stark is quite another. Robert will listen to Stark. Damn them both. I should have insisted that he name you. That would have kept you in King's Landing. But I was certain Stark would refuse him."

"We ought to count ourselves fortunate. The king might as easily have named one of his brothers, or even Littlefinger, gods help us. Give me honourable enemies rather than ambitious ones, and I'll sleep more easily by night." Jaime thought he heard the sound of stones falling down the tower, but put it down to crows flying about.

"We will have to watch him carefully," Cersei declared, knocking back another glass of wine.

He was growing bored of all this worrying. "I would sooner watch you. Come here."

Cersei ignored him. "Lord Eddard has never taken any interest in anything that happened south of the Neck aside from your mess of a marriage, and that was only by the king's order. I tell you, he means to move against us. Why else would he leave his seat of power?"

"A hundred reasons," Jaime answered. "Duty. Honour. He years to write his name large across the book of history. To stay close to his daughter, or get away from his wife. Maybe all three. Perhaps he just wants to be warm for once in his life."

"His wife is Lady Arryn's sister. What if she told her something?"

Again, Jaime heard scraping from just outside Cersei's window. He ignored it, focusing on calming his sister. "You fret too much. Lysa Arryn is a frightened cow."

"That frightened cow shared Jon Arryn's bed," Cersei reminded him.

"If she knew anything, she would have gone to Robert before she fled King's Landing."

"When he had already agreed that weakling son of hers at Casterly Rock?" Cersei scoffed, shaking her head. "I think not. She knew the boy's life would be hostage to her silence. She may grow bolder now that he's safe atop the Eyrie."

"Mothers." Jaime said the word like it was a curse. "I think birthing does something to your minds. You are all mad." A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Let Lady Arryn grow as bold as she likes. Whatever she knows, whatever she thinks she knows, she has no proof." Jaime paused and shared a long look with Cersei. Jon Arryn was snooping around before his death, visiting Robert's bastards in brothels and whatnot. "Or does she?"

Cersei scoffed again. "Do you think the king will require proof?" she asked bitterly. "I tell you, he loves me not."

"And whose fault is that, sweet sister?" Jaime asked. He stood up and poured himself a glass of wine. If he was going to have to listen to his sister fret and conjure non-existent enemies all night, then he would need to be somewhat inebriated.

"All it would take is some coaxing from Stark and we'd both loose our heads. Does that not worry you?"

"Of course it does. My head is far too handsome to be parted from me. What would I do without it?" Jaime quipped. His sister merely glared at him. "Come now, Cersei. Stark is as loyal a man as they come."

"You are as blind as Robert," Cersei accused.

"If you mean I see the same thing, yes," Jaime allowed. "I see a man who would sooner die than betray his king."

"He betrayed one already, or have you forgotten?" Jaime tilted his head to the side and gave his sister a look of disbelief. The Mad King was a completely different kettle of fish. There was nothing right in being loyal to such a terrible king. "Oh, I don't deny he's loyal to Robert, that's obvious. What happens when Robert dies and Joff takes the throne? And the sooner that comes to pass, the safer we'll all be. My husband grows more restless every day. Having Stark beside him will only make him worse. He's still in love with the sister, the insipid little dead sixteen-year-old. How long till he decides to put me aside for some new Lyanna? Perhaps your little wife will do. She resembles Lyanna Stark if you squint. The similarity would be enough for my husband."

Jaime laughed humourlessly at his sister's madness. "My wife is already married. To me. In case you haven't noticed."

"Of course I've noticed," Cersei scoffed. "He'll find a way to be rid of you as well, mark my words. He has no love for us."

Now she was reaching. Her speculations were bordering on insanity. Jaime sighed and stepped closer to her, cupping her face in his hands. "You should think less about the future and more about the pleasures at hand." He pressed his lips against hers and ravished her mouth with his tongue.

"Stop that!" Cersei exclaimed, but Jaime silenced her with his mouth.

Jaime pushed his sister against the wall and wrapped her legs around him. He was slow, hesitant, as something akin to guilt nabbed at him. This felt like a betrayal. Not the kind of betrayal that Jaime had relished in before, when they were sneaking behind only Robert's back and there was some sort of victory in that. Jaime found himself thinking of his wife. His doting, kind little wife who believed him to be more honourable than he actually was. If she saw him now...

"What's wrong with you?" Cersei asked him breathlessly. "You're usually more demanding than this."

"I'm merely taking my time, sweet sister," Jaime said. "We have all night."

He pressed his lips to her neck and nipped at her flesh, making Cersei moan with pleasure. The sound made his cock twitch. Good, Jaime thought, if she would only moan louder, then all my hesitation will be forgotten.

Her hands pulled at his hair, whispering dirty, vulgar words into his ear. Jaime was ready, the Stark girl forgotten, and pulled up Cersei's skirts and loosened his own breeches. He was about to enter Cersei when he heard a boy gasp.

Cersei needlessly pushed him away from her. "JAIME! THE BOY!" she shouted, pointing towards the window. Jaime looked to the window as he pulled up his breeches. He saw a boy fumbling to regain balance. The boy eventually did and reached for the gargoyle above Cersei's window, trying to escape, but slipped and fell. He shot out a hand and tried to grab the ledge, lost it, and tried again with his other hand. The boy was panting and dangling from the window.

With a start, Jaime realised that he recognised the boy. He had seen him play with Lyarra in her bedchambers, and with Tommen and Myrcella on numerous occasions. The boy was Bran Stark, the son of Ned Stark. His wife's brother. That made everything that much more difficult.

"He saw us," Cersei stated shrilly.

"So he did," was all Jaime said in response. Seeing that Bran's fingers were starting to slip, Jaime reached down and offered the boy his hand. "Take my hand. Before you fall."

"What are you doing?" Cersei hissed. No doubt she would have preferred if he'd let the boy fall to his death. In truth, Jaime didn't know what he was doing. He was still considering his options as he yanked the young Stark boy up to the ledge and steadied him. "How old are you, boy?"

"Ten," Bran said, looking relieved. The boy had dug deep gouges into Jaime's forearm from holding on so tightly. Bran let go sheepishly.

"Ten," Jaime repeated as he looked over to Cersei, whose eyes were flickering between Bran and him fearfully. If the boy ratted on them, she would loose his head, so would he. Their children would die. There was only one option, really.

"The things I do for love," he said with loathing as he gave the boy a shove. Brandon Stark screamed as he fell from the tower. Jaime heard a wolf howl. Another wolf started howling as well, forming a sad chorus.

It was Fang, Jaime realised. Fang and the boy's direwolf were howling together, though it sounded more like crying. He met Cersei's wide eyes, trying to hide the guilt that was growing inside of him. He found himself thinking of Lyarra. If her wolf somehow knew, then she would know as well soon enough. For some reason, the thought upset him. He had just murdered her brother – his goodbrother.

"Fuck," Jaime cursed, tossing a vase to the floor. "What have I done?"

He rushed out of the room, not caring that anyone could see him, ignoring Cersei's cries. "What are you doing? Jaime, get back here!" she commanded, her voice a hush. "Jaime!"

It had seemed right in the moment. He was just a boy, a boy who could destroy their lives with the knowledge he had. There had only been one option. Jaime thought he had no choice. But there was always a choice, and Jaime had chosen wrong.

Off in the distance, Jaime heard a woman wailing. When he listened more closely, he realised that the cries belonged to his wife. People were gathering in the courtyard. Jaime saw the eldest Stark, Robb, push his way through the crowd to get to his sister and brother. Jaime rushed towards them.

"Don't move him," Jaime commanded as soon as he saw that Lyarra was going cradle the boy. "If he has any chance of walking again, moving him will move his spine out of line. Has the maester been called?"

"Aye. As soon as I heard the lady yelling,," his old friend Ser Addam Marbrand assured him. Jaime nodded his thanks. He placed a hand on his wife's shoulder and gave it a squeeze, though he didn't think she even noticed.

"What is this? What has happened?" Ned Stark pushed his way through the crowd with his wife, approaching Jaime and his three children. His jaw fell when he saw his son's mangled body. "Good gods." Stark fell to his knees by the boy's side and began to weep.

Jaime's attention was taken away from Stark when he heard a woman scream. Lady Stark had fallen to her knees, scrambling towards her son's broken body, tears falling freely down her face. Jaime gulped. The things I do for love. Jaime had never felt so much regret before. Perhaps he was truly as horrible as people said.

As the boy was carried away in a stretcher by his brother and father and some other men who had offered their help, Jaime pulled Lyarra into his chest as she wept and stroked her hair. He met Cersei's narrowed eyes from across the courtyard.

The things I do for love.

After much begging and arguing, Lyarra's father had finally gotten the king to agree to postpone the trip south for a few more days as they waited – and hoped, and prayed – for Bran to wake up. Lyarra couldn't bare to look at her brother's unconscious form. She tried to convince herself that he was merely sleeping, and that made the whole ordeal slightly easier for a few seconds before reality hit her like a ton of bricks. How she hated to see her little brother at death's grasp. Lyarra stayed out of the room where Bran was, both for her sake and her mother's.

Every time she tried to sit at Bran's bedside, she ended up crying and upsetting Mother, so Lyarra did what she could without being near him. She prayed for hours at the Godswood near the keep – Jaime had brought her there the day after Bran had fallen, knowing that she'd want to pray to her own gods – and ordered the best medicine and equipment for Bran.

Today, she decided that she would try to bare it again. She took a deep breath and was about to push open the door to Bran's room when the door was suddenly opened, revealing Robb.

"Lya?" he observed, sounding shocked to see her. Lyarra stepped back to allow him room to step aside, but her brother closed the door behind him and led her away from the room. "What are you doing?"

"Going to see Bran," Lyarra answered, bewildered as to why that came as such a shock to him.

Robb pressed his lips together, his face forming a frown. "Do you think that's such a good idea?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lyarra's voice was high-pitched and defensive as she folded her arms in front of her chest and glared at her twin.

"I only mean that..." Robb sighed, trailing off. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a meaningful look. "Honestly, Lya, I don't think it's wise for you to be around Bran and Mother at the moment. Not until things are looking up."

She blinked away tears and swallowed the lump in her throat that had formed at the mention of their little brother. "You can't keep me away."

"No, I can't," Robb admitted as his shoulders deflated. "I can only hope that you do what's best for Mother. She's distraught, Lya. She's barely holding it together. Last time you saw Bran, you started bawling. Mother broke down soon after you left. I can't fault you for being upset. You have a gentle heart, you always have. I only ask that you be considerate of Mother."

Her first reaction was indignation and anger. She had always been considerate of their mother, even when her siblings hadn't. She was the one who stepped up when Rickon was born and Catelyn had little time for him, too busy with her duties as Lady of Winterfell, and helped raise her youngest brother. Robb had spent his time playing at being a warrior, and yet he now had the nerve to lecture her about being considerate? Lyarra scoffed.

The last time she had visited Bran repeated in her memory. As Robb escorted her from the room, Lyarra had heard her mother's wailing. Lyarra felt immense guilt at making her mother so upset, yet she made herself feel better by blaming her mother's reaction on the whole situation, on Bran being injured. But it was I who set her off, Lyarra couldn't help but think. Perhaps Robb's right. Perhaps I am at fault.

Lyarra's expression softened and she let out a defeated sigh. "Very well. I suppose you're right." With that, she began walking away from him. Robb grabbed her arm and pulled her back before she could go too far.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, eyes alight with worry.

"To the Godswood," Lyarra answered, rolling her eyes. She ripped her arm out of Robb's grasp and shot him a glare. "Don't worry, brother. I'm sure your leash stretches that far."

"Lya..." She didn't give him a chance to say anything more.

Lyarra stormed down the hallway and towards her bedroom, visibly distraught. She ripped off her dress and put on her riding clothes, beckoning Fang to follow at her heel as she almost ran towards the stables. Without even bothering to saddle him, Lyarra hopped onto her horse and galloped towards the godswood with Fang running to keep up with them.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek, but wiped it away as soon as she felt it. The wind was in her hair, Fang was woofing happily – for the first time since Bran's fall, Lyarra felt some sort of joy. She gracefully dismounted when she reached the godswood, all joy disappearing from her face as she remembered why she was there. She fell on her knees in front of the weirwood tree and began to pray – to beg. Only a few days ago, her biggest worry was settling into Casterly Rock and making her husband tolerate her. Now, her little brother was on the brink of death! A sob got caught in her throat. She swallowed it down and continued to pray.

Even Fang seemed to recognise the sacredness of the godswood. Her wolf, usually so wild and loud, was sitting beside Lyarra in front of the weirwood tree, eyeing it with interest. Lyarra ran her hand along Fang's fur, lost in thought. She didn't realise how late it was until the sunlight dimmed and dusk reigned over the sky. The young Lady Lannister didn't stir, however, and repeated her prayers over and over again until her voice was hoarse. Eventually, when her voice became strained and her throat sore, she began to say them in her head. That was when she heard the galloping of a horse approaching from behind her.

Lyarra glanced over her shoulder. Jaime hopped off his horse, his face a perfect mixture of worry and anger. Lyarra sighed and stood up, dusting off her skirts as her husband stalked towards her.

"Imagine my surprise when some stable boy tells me that my wife ran off about midday, unaccompanied," Jaime scolded. Fang growled at him, not liking his tone. Lyarra did nothing to discourage her direwolf and merely stared at Jaime. Her husband sighed wearily. "What were you thinking?"

"I wanted some peace and quiet. I went to the godswood. That's all there is to it. Now, if you would excuse me..." Lyarra tried to brush past him, but Jaime grabbed her arm and pulled her back, just as Robb had done earlier that day. She glanced down pointedly at his hand on her arm, urging him to release her.

"You could have been harmed," Jaime chastised. "What if some lucky bandit happened upon you, a lone woman without any protection? What do you think would have happened then?"

I would have been robbed and raped. Lyarra knew the answer. "Fang would have torn him apart."

Jaime rolled his eyes at her reply. "Or the wolf would have fled at the sight of danger, as animals often do–"

"Fang would never desert me," Lyarra replied confidently, and her wolf growled in agreement as she rubbed the area behind Fang's ears.

"Your fate in your wolf is touching, truly," Jaime began dryly, eyes darting between the lady and the wolf in distaste. "Next time, do my sanity a favour and bring a guard."

"And your concern for my well-being is touching indeed, but I have no desire to be babied," Lyarra retorted, bitterness laced in her voice. She was upset and for some reason, her sadness was manifesting itself in anger.

"Did your father let you roam around the countryside unprotected?" Jaime asked, sounding properly curious. Knowing that her answer would only strengthen his argument, Lyarra merely shot him a glare. Jaime gave her a small smirk. "I thought as much. Come along now, I'd rather get you back to Casterly Rock before my father realises you've ran away. I would loathe to receive another lecture about controlling my wolf of a bride."

Control me?! Lyarra bit her tongue. She would not allow anyone, husband or otherwise, to ever control her. She may be, by all laws and tradition, Jaime's property now, but she'd be damned if she ever allowed a man to control her like she was a dog.

She climbed on top of her horse and urged the stallion forward. Jaime was just as quick, urging his horse to ride beside hers so he could continue his teasing.

He surprised even Lyarra by allowing his expression to soften, his smirk to fade. Jaime let out a long breath. "Look, I know you're upset about Rickon, but you cannot act recklessly, Lyarra. You do no one any favours by acting like a child."

"Bran," was all Lyarra said in response. She gritted out the name like it pained her to do so.

Jaime was confused. "What?"

"His name is Bran," Lyarra said blankly, not even sparing him a glance.

"My apologies." Jaime rolled his eyes, gripping the reigns on his horse tighter in an attempt to contain his frustration. "Do you understand me, Lyarra?"

How she hated to be spoken to as though she was a child. She was a woman grown – wedded and bedded – and she would not be spoken to patronisingly. Her mother told her that a wife wasn't supposed to argue with her husband, a proper lady didn't argue with anyone really, but all Lyarra wanted to do was throttle Jaime. She clenched her jaw and inhaled sharply, trying to calm herself down.

"The only way to placate you is saying that I do. What choice have I truly? You'll keep harping on until I agree," she replied coolly, quickening the speed of her horse's trot. Jaime did the same with his, making sure to stay at the same pace as Lyarra. She could feel the anger radiating from her husband and found that she was glad to get a rise out of him.

"Very well. If you're going to act like a child, then so be it, I'll treat you like one. I'll have a guard stationed outside your door, day and night. I'll have him follow you wherever you go. If that is what it takes to keep you in like, then that's what I'll do," Jaime warned her. They had reached the stables and were dismounting their horses. Lyarra only looked at him then, eyes wide with shock.

"Are you threatening me?" Lyarra asked, high-pitched and horrified that he would do such a thing.

"It's not a threat. It's a warning. I will not tolerate an insubordinate wife causing me more hassle than I need."

Lyarra huffed, hands on her hips, and glared at him. "Your father has finally gotten through to you, then. You're the one speaking, yet I'm hearing the words of Tywin Lannister."

"Perhaps I've finally realised the truth in my father's words. The years have made him wise, you see. I'd be a fool not to listen to him on most matters," Jaime responded. Lyarra heard the threat in his tone. Only a few days ago he had sworn to her that, even if his father urged him to, he would not take her forcefully. She saw the anger in his eyes and wondered... no, he would not. And yet, Lyarra still felt afraid.

"I'm going to bed," Lyarra announced. "Goodnight, ser."

Perhaps Jaime had noticed the fear etched on her face or the way her voice quivered, but her husband merely nodded in response, looking shocked and dazed. He stepped aside and allowed her to pass. Fang followed behind her as she walked to her room. Jaime didn't visit her that night, the first since they were wed apart from the night of Bran's fall. Ever since her brother's fall, she found herself needing his body as a form of comfort, and Jaime was always willing. He had been so kind to her. Today, she had seen another side of him, a side she hoped never to see again.

She fell asleep on the bed with Fang sprawled out beside her.

Author's Note: Next chapter- the Stark family goes their separate ways! The scene with Jaime and Cersei is mostly taken from the books with a few adjustments. I hope to avoid including too many rehashed scenes like that, but I thought it was necessary this time.

As always, tell me what you think!