Price For Our Sins

For so long, Lyarra had wished for Jon to meet his father. She used to think of Jaime as the piece missing from their little family. Now that he was here, waiting and willing to see his first-born legitimate son, Lyarra felt the desire to keep Jon to herself. Perhaps it was selfishness, or bitterness, or somewhere in between, but she wasn't ready to let Jaime meet Jon.

But she couldn't keep a man from his son, so Lyarra bit her cheek as she dressed Jon in his adorably small doublet and trousers.

"There's someone in the other bedroom that you're going to meet today," Lyarra told him, forcing herself to look excited for Jon, a large, forced smile on her lips.

"Who is it?" Jon asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

Lyarra chuckled and ruffled his brown hair. "I can't tell you that. It's a surprise!"

Jon's grin became wider. Lyarra had to smile at him. No matter how horrible she felt, Jon always managed to brighten her day. He was always so cheerful and happy. He rarely cried or complained about anything. To be honest, it worried Lyarra sometimes. She didn't think Jon was able to express his negative emotions.

Standing, she ruffled Jon's hair one last time, causing Jon to playfully pout at her, before she led Jon into Jaime's room. Jaime stood up as soon as he saw them walk in and looked at Jon like he was seeing him for the first time. Lyarra supposed that seeing Jon asleep and seeing him awake, with his bright smile and twinkling grey eyes, were two very different things in Jaime's eyes.

She knelt down beside Jon and told him, "This is your father."

"You're my father," Jon repeated, staring up at Jaime with a confused look on his face.

Jaime laughed and nodded his head. "I am. I'm your father." He glanced towards Lyarra, unsure. Lyarra gave him a smile in response. Even though she was still angry about everything that had happened – some of her issues were a lot less reasonable than others, she could admit to that – Lyarra wanted Jaime to get on well with Jon.

"You're just back?" Jon asked. Like all children, he was all too fond of asking questions.

"Yes," Jaime replied. "I was away for a very long time."

"Why?"

Unable to think of an answer, Jaime blinked in surprise and blanked for a few moments. "Silly reasons, really," came his reply. "None of it matters now. I'm back and I won't be going away for a very long time."

"Mama told me about you," Jon said.

Lyarra caught the worried look Jaime gave her briefly. She felt the urge to roll her eyes. Does he truly think so badly of me? That I would poison my child against his father? Lyarra pursed her lips together and stayed quiet, biting back the bitter response she wanted to throw at him. No doubt Cersei poisoned her children against Robert. Then again, they weren't truly his children and the king was not their father.

"Did she now?" Jaime replied.

Jon nodded. "Yes."

"Good things, I hope," Jaime commented, giving a weak laugh.

"You were away fighting."

This time, he didn't bother to hide his worry as he looked at Lyarra warily. "I was," he admitted.

"Who?"

"Your mother didn't tell you?" Jon shook his head. Lyarra had to look away from Jaime. Oh, what a conversation that would be to have with our two year old son! The situation was too complicated even for Lyarra to fully understand. "It doesn't matter anyway. It's all over now."

For a moment, Lyarra worried that Jon would push Jaime for an answer, but within less than a minute Jon had moved onto another topic. He pointed to Jaime's stump. "What's that?" he asked.

Jaime raised his stump to look at it, stuttering his response. "It's a, uh... well..." He looked to Lyarra for help. Bitter, she was tempted to let Jaime deal with this on his own. But, as always, she felt bad for him and intervened.

Taking a deep breath, she placed her hands on her son's shoulders. "Your father had an accident while he was away. It's, uh..." She looked at Jaime who nodded at her. Lyarra sighed. "He lost his right hand."

"Oh," Jon said, staring at Jaime's hand with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. Lyarra felt for Jaime then. She couldn't bear receiving that sort of look from her own child.

"It doesn't hurt," Jaime told their son. He cracked a smile like it was all just some great joke to him. "Not at all, actually. I don't feel a thing below my wrist."

She gave him an exasperated look. She had thought Jaime changed while he was away. Though he was twice her age, there were times when Lyarra had felt more mature than her almost-forty-year-old husband. The night he came back, Jaime seemed changed. His eyes weren't as mocking or full of amusement, like he was privy to some amazing secret the rest of the world had no clue about. It had irked her then and it irked her now. Seeing her annoyed look, Jaime merely shrugged in response, worsening her annoyance.

"You should get a hook," Jon suggested, his tone as cheerful as always.

"What?" Jaime asked, genuinely surprised.

"Like the pirate from the book." He turned around to look at Lyarra, a huge smile on his lips as he tugged at her sleeves. "Mama, you know it."

Lyarra chuckled, looking down at Jon fondly. Jaime glanced between them, lost. As horrible as it was, Lyarra enjoyed showing Jaime how much he had missed. He was a part of the reason this war started in the first place – him and Cersei and their disgusting relationship. As a result of his sins, he wasn't around for the first two years of his son's life. Perhaps she was being cruel – no, she was being cruel, but she was done trying to uphold her morals and be a better person than the rest of them. It was easier to become one of them than stick to the morals her dead father had instilled in her.

"I know the one," Lyarra replied. "I don't think your father will be getting a hook any time soon."

"No," Jaime agreed, laughing. "Although, there has been talk of a golden hand."

"A golden hand?" Lyarra asked, shocked. Jaime nodded, a small smile on his lips. He too seemed to understand the ridiculousness of it. Lyarra would well believe it of the Lannisters. Jaime's crippling would serve as another excuse to show off their wealth.

"A hook would be better," Jon argued.

"Indeed it would. More practical." Jaime grinned. "But alas, your grandfather and aunt have insisted. I have to meet with Cersei and Maester Qyburn this afternoon." Lyarra scowled and caught Jaime's eyes darting towards her, seeing her displeasure. Lyarra didn't bother saying anything else or try to ease the tension. Instead, she stayed quiet and scowling as Jaime coughed to break the silence. "I should like to break our fast together. What do you like, son?"

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Jon grinned up at his father. "Lemoncakes!"

"Lemoncakes?" Jaime chuckled. "Very well. I'll have the cooks make you half a dozen of them, what do you say?"

"No," Lyarra objected immediately as Jon eagerly nodded. "He'll get sick. You can have lemoncakes after dinner." Jon pouted petulantly. Unlike Jaime, Lyarra was able to put his health above making him happy. The last time Jon ate a lot of lemoncakes, he was kept up by an upset stomach and spent his night vomiting in a chamber pot. Lyarra was not going to give into him. As his mother, she knew best. Seeing that he was not going to get his way, Jon huffed and stormed away.

"I never pegged you for a killjoy," Jaime replied, looking cross. "You could not have let my first meeting with my son be a happy one?"

"He has a sensitive stomach," Lyarra defended. If Jaime thought he could storm into their lives and control everything, he was going to be unpleasantly surprised.

Jaime scoffed. "One morning. That's all I wanted. One morning where I could establish a good relationship with my son, but of course, you could not possibly let that happen."

Frowning, Lyarra watched her husband as he scowled at her, trying to dissect his meaning. "What do you mean by that?"

"You have had him all to yourself for the last two years. For all that time, it has only been the two of you." His tone became softer and gentler, like he was afraid of upsetting her. Lyarra would have preferred him to yell at her. I am not the same sensitive girl you left at Casterly Rock, ser, she wanted to tell him. Instead, she settled for scowling. "I mean that you are not accustomed to having someone else to share the responsibility with. But I'm here now, Lyarra. Let me share it."

Responsibility? Lyarra wanted to scoff. Jaime had never taken on an ounce of responsibility in the time she knew him. "I 'had him all to myself' because you had to go to war against my family and get captured," Lyarra snapped.

"Yes, because that was my motive," Jaime replied heatedly, his face twisting with anger. "As though I was so willing to get captured by your brother and sit in my own shit for months." Lyarra pressed her lips together and seethed silently. "Is that the real problem here?"

"What?"

He softened. "That I was not here."

At first, his words made her blink in surprise. The answer that first came to her lips was yes, you should have been here. Why weren't you here? But she had more pride than that. She laughed shortly and derisively. "You flatter yourself, ser. I did just fine on my own."

Because she knew him well, Lyarra was well aware that her words had hurt Jaime, though her husband did not show it. But no matter how well he schooled his expression, Jaime's eyes said it all. "Come. Perhaps eating will silence you." Lyarra scoffed. Jaime ignored her and joined their son in the dining room. Lyarra hadn't even moved when she heard him telling the maid to get them a dozen lemoncakes.

Lyarra balled her hands into fists. She pushed back her feelings and joined them in the dining room, seeing Jon grin at Jaime while Jaime grinned back. Hearing her enter the room, Jaime turned around and grinned at her next. Lyarra bit her tongue and ignored how her stomach twisted angrily in response.

The mind-numbing chatter of Margaery and her ladies completely went over Lyarra's head. Her own thoughts were far away and focused on her husband. He left me. He loves Cersei. He hurt Bran. Though she was not sure yet, suspicion was enough to make her blind with rage at the mere thought of Jaime harming her little brother.

Who am I kidding? I know well what he did to Bran. Lyarra prided herself on being clever, yet here she was, trying to poke holes in a theory she knew was fact. Jaime – or Cersei – had pushed Bran from that tower. If Jaime did it, then he tried to kill her little brother and lied to her about it. If Cersei did it, then Jaime lied to her and was covering for his sister-lover.

She loved Bran. She truly did. She loved Rickon too. But they were both dead now. She loved them and grieved for them, but they were dead and she was alive. Her son was alive. Didn't Jon deserve to grow up knowing that his parents didn't hate each other? She wanted to forget what Jaime did. That would make it that much easier to forgive him.

But every time she looked at Jaime, he reminded her of what he did to Bran, of his relationship with his twin sister, of everything his family did to hers... No matter how hard she tried to ignore the anger the mere sight of his face triggered within her, Lyarra was never successful. But she wanted to forgive him, not because he deserved it, but because they were going to spend their lives together. She didn't deserve a life of anger, resentment and hatred, and Jon didn't deserve to have parents who despised each other.

So Lyarra agreed to try and nothing more. Perhaps eventually, she could learn to live with him. Until then, she wasn't going to go out of her way to be a good wife.

Margaery, noticing Lyarra's aloofness, told the musician to play louder, the same trick she had used the first time they met in the Maidenvault. "What's wrong, my dear?"

"Nothing, Margaery," she replied. Margaery shot her a disbelieving look that made Lyarra concede, sighing. "Jaime's home," was her simple response.

"I thought you would be happy to have him home," Margaery whispered. "Look, I did my best to keep Joffrey away from you and your sister, but I can only exert so much influence over him. Ser Jaime, however, is a Lannister. I think Joffrey is afraid of him."

"Truly?"

She nodded. "Oh yes. I saw them together today. Joffrey wasn't as horrible and bratty as his usually is. Well, when I say he was afraid, I mean as afraid as he can be. But he did restrain himself around Ser Jaime. I don't think Joffrey is stupid enough to hurt you in any way when Jaime is around."

"But what about Sansa?" Lyarra asked. Jaime might protect her, but he had no obligation to Sansa.

The future queen cracked a smile. "Despite his stature, I believe Lord Tyrion is more than capable of defending Sansa against Joffrey. For some reason, I think Joffrey is afraid of him as well."

"Because Lord Tyrion is not afraid of Joffrey and that makes Joffrey wary of him," Lyarra spoke her thoughts aloud. Joffrey was so used to everyone quaking in terror when he spoke to them, that when Tyrion was unabashedly frank with the young king, it scared Joffrey.

"Nevertheless, I think the both of you are safer here than you've been in a long time," Margaery said. "But know that I'll still do all I can for you and Sansa. As I said before, cruelty, when inflicted unnecessarily, sickens me more than anything. I like you, Lyarra, and your sister. I hope we'll remain friends after this."

"Of course," Lyarra replied, wondering if Margaery would be so stupid as to continue their little affair.

Naturally, Margaery read her mind. "That being said, we must end our liaison before I wed the king. Now that your husband is home, there is more of a risk."

Lyarra nodded in agreement. "Jaime would not be happy if he ever found out about us."

"It isn't worth the risk. I enjoyed our time together, my dear, but not enough to lose my head – or worse, my queenship," Margaery replied, a saccharine smile on her lips.

But if you do not have a head, how can you hope to wear a crown? Lyarra was beginning to doubt Margaery's priorities. She said nothing more and continued her needlework quietly until the opportunity came for her to leave. She curtsied to Margaery and said farewell to the other ladies, hoping that now Jaime was home, she would not have to spend as much time with them.

She spent that evening in their quarters. Jaime hadn't come home yet, which meant he was still with Cersei getting his new golden hand fitted. Ignoring the unsettling feeling she got from thinking about the two of them together, alone, Lyarra sat down on the floor with Jon and spent that afternoon playing with him.

By the time Jaime returned to their quarters, it was already sundown. Lyarra spotted his golden hand first and held back a scoff. Not only was the hand crafted from pure gold, it was engraved beautifully, like a fine piece of art or a sculpture. It must have cost House Lannister a fortune.

"Naturally," Lyarra remarked. This time she was unable to hold back a scoff. Jaime didn't say anything as he poured himself a glass of wine, but wore a confused expression on his face. Lyarra elaborated. "This new hand is even finer than the old one."

"If only I could use a sword with it," Jaime deadpanned, sipping his glass of wine, "Or even pick up a sword with it. All this hand is good for is waving." Jaime waved at her. Jon giggled as he shoved the head of his wooden soldier into his mouth. Lyarra looked at her husband blankly, causing Jaime to huff at her. "What is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem. I never have a problem," she muttered as she gently pulled the wooden soldier out of Jon's mouth.

Jaime scowled, becoming irritated with her. "Quit the shit-talking, Lyarra. Spit it out."

Lyarra glared at him. If she wanted to stay mad at him, she would. It was well within her rights to be angry at him for everything he'd done to her and her family. "No," was her response.

"No?" Jaime repeated, somewhat surprised at her frankness.

"No," Lyarra repeated firmly. No doubt Jaime wasn't used to being told no. He was the son of the richest man in Westeros after all. He was used to people bending over backwards to give him what he wanted. Lyarra used to do the same when they were first married. She feared his anger then, now she welcomed it.

His face twisted with anger before he let out a huff. "Have it your way," he said before storming off, leaving her and Jon alone again.

Jaime looked at the boar, feeling his stomach twitch in disgust. He had eaten breakfast today at least, and even that had been difficult. He hadn't been fed well as a prisoner and his ill-treatment rendered him with a much smaller appetite. The food in King's Landing was covered with spices and salts and tasted far too strong for someone who was used to eating meat fresh from a fire.

When he looked up from the table, he saw Tyrion watching him with a thoughtful expression. "Your new hand, it's nicer than the old one. Wouldn't you agree, Pod?" Tyrion asked his nervous squire.

The squire turned to Jaime. "Is it solid gold?" he questioned, something Podrick had no doubt been wondering for a while.

"Gilded steel," Tyrion answered for Jaime, seeing that Jaime was reluctant to speak. "You're not eating. Why is no one eating?" Tyrion started cutting into his meat fervently. "My wife wastes away and my brother starves himself."

"I'm not hungry," Jaime replied.

Tyrion put down his fork and knife for a moment and leaned closer to Jaime. "You lost a hand, not a stomach." He pointedly took a bite of the boar on his plate. "Try the boar. Cersei can't get enough of it since one killed Robert." Like a good squire, Podrick took that as a hint and offered Jaime some boar. Jaime shook his head, much to Tyrion's frustration. "A toast," Tyrion said, raising his glass. "To the proud Lannister children. The dwarf, the cripple, and the mother of madness. Oh, and how could we forget our proud father? The force behind the murder of our wives' families."

Jaime didn't move to raise his glass and settled on giving his brother a strained grimace in response. Perhaps his father was the reason his wife despised him. Jaime had considered it to be a factor, but he didn't think Lyarra was a bitter enough person to hold his father's monstrosities against Jaime himself.

"How's Sansa?" Jaime asked, aware of the silence that had fallen upon them. He didn't like how Tyrion looked at him when he went silent, like his brother knew exactly what he was thinking. Jaime found it unsettling.

His brother sat back in his seat and wiped his mouth. "She doesn't eat or sleep. She spends all her time in the godswood."

Despite himself, Jaime felt a small laugh claw its way up his throat. At Tyrion's confused expression, Jaime elaborated. "Ned Stark used to spend an awful lot of time at the godswood. The day he arrived with his family at Casterly Rock, he asked me to show him where the nearest godswood was. I find it ironic how similar they all are. Prayer might be helping her."

Tyrion pointed his fork in Jaime's direction. "That was what I thought. Sansa said she only goes to the godswood so people would leave her alone." Jaime chuckled quietly at that. He could hardly blame the girl. Receiving condolences from the same people who celebrated her family's death was probably not a very enjoyable experience. "How's your wife?"

All humour drained from his face at the mention of his wife. Jaime scoffed. "She despises me. It's been a month and she can hardly look at me." Just that morning, Lyarra had managed to not say so much as a word to him. Jaime had to credit her for her ability to ignore the very man that slept in the room beside hers.

"Give her time," Tyrion advised. Jaime looked away, fighting the urge to scoff again. He thought one month was more than enough time. "Our family murdered hers. I imagine she wants to murder us as it stands."

"How comforting," he remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. The thought of his wife wanting to kill him in his sleep did not sit well with him.

"She will come around eventually," Tyrion assured him.

"How long is eventually?"

Smiling ruefully, Tyrion raised his glass to him. "What's the rush, brother? Marriage is for life, is it not?"

He wanted to thank Tyrion for reminding him of that. Tyrion was so sure that things would get better between them, but Tyrion had never been on the receiving end of Lyarra's ire, of her hostility. Ned Stark had been a cold man. He used to consider Lyarra to be a lot warmer than her father, perhaps more like her mother. She was compassionate and loving when she wanted to be. Jaime remembered the night he came back, when Lyarra had taken care of him and done things for him that very few women would have done willingly. Jaime would have never thought Lyarra capable of such hostility and coldness, even towards him. Perhaps she was more like her father than he thought.

Frowning, Jaime went to grab his glass of wine with his right hand, forgetting that a golden hand had replaced his flesh. He knocked over his glass and spilled wine on the floor. Cursing under his breath, he looked at the floor at the damage as Tyrion's squire made to help him.

"I'll clean it up," the boy stated.

"No, I'll do it. Leave us," Jaime commanded harshly. He felt bad for being so short with the boy, but Jaime would be damned if he let himself be treated like a child. He made this mess, he could damn well clean it up.

"It's only wine," Tyrion said and pointedly poured wine from his glass and onto the table. He hopped off his chair and went over to Jaime to pour him another glass of wine.

"I can't fight anymore," Jaime admitted quietly. He was that hand. That hand defined him. His ability with a sword defined him. Now he was just some useless lord, like all the rest of them.

Tyrion glanced at Jaime's golden hand as he poured wine into the glass. "What about your left?"

Jaime shook his head. "I can hold a sword, but all my instincts are wrong. How am I supposed to protect my family and defend our house when I can hardly wipe my own arse?"

"You don't need to use a sword," Tyrion pointed out as he sat back down. "You're a lord. A battle commander. Command. Let others do the fighting. When was the last time Father used a sword?"

"I'm not Father. I'm the Kingslayer. When people find out I can't slay a pigeon..."

"Train, then," Tyrion suggested like it was the most simple thing in the world. "Learn to fight with your other hand."

"With whom?" Jaime scoffed. "You? Men talk. Soon as someone discovers I can't fight, he'll tell everyone."

His brother became thoughtful as he sipped his wine. "You need a proper, discreet swordsman. As it happens, I have just the one."

Author's Note: So, some of you might have noticed I may a few, eh, hiccups in the last chapter. I've gone back and corrected those and I think they're all sort. Thanks to everyone who pointed them out. It's just so easy to forget that Jaime only has one hand now (even though it's one of his defining traits at this point... but hey, I have a head like a sieve.)

Another thing- I never addressed Bran and Rickon's death. GRRM does this in the book with Sansa, where he doesn't show her reaction because it would be repetitive and because her chapters are already depressing enough. In the past few chapters, Lyarra's been really depressing to write and read, I know that, so I didn't want to add another depressing scene on top of that. That doesn't mean she doesn't know about Bran or Rickon or that she doesn't care... I'm just trying to cut down on the crying scenes.

As for Lyarra being mad at Jaime, I'm getting a mixed response when it comes to whether or not she has a right to be mad at him. This is how I'm going to explain the situation- Lyarra has just lost her mother and brother and isn't in the right frame of mind. She might have had affairs with people while he was gone, but in her mind Jaime has indirectly caused the deaths of her family because he fathered Joffrey on his sister and, effectively, caused the war. The main thing, however, is that she believes he crippled Bran and, while she is trying to push that aside so she can have a stable marriage and family, that's a pretty difficult thing to suppress. You can disagree with that and perhaps Lyarra seems a little hypocritical, but that's Lyarra's view on the situation at the moment.

Also, a big huge thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter, we got to 500! Just to let you guys know if you're interested, I posted a trailer for this story on Youtube. I'm not sure how links work on this site but if you search something like "Bound By Duty fanfic trailer jaime/oc game of thrones" it should come up.

Anyway, I'd love to hear what you think!