DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS OR GAME OF THRONES
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Quick Authors Note:
This story has been rewritten as of 1/26/24
If you've read the first 3 chapters before then, they've been changed!

|CHAPTER 3

The past few months at Casterly Rock had been tense. King Robert had sent Jaime along with Cersei and the royal children to visit their father, Lord Tywin. What was meant to be a short stay had stretched on for far too long. The castle's maester had cautioned against travel while Cersei was heavy with child, and now his sister had gone into labor in their childhood home.

I should be there, Jaime thought as he walked dimly lit halls of Casterly Rock. His boots clicked against the hard floors, his footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls. As a member of the Kingsguard, protecting the royal family, protecting his sister was his responsibility. Yet here he was, summoned away from his post outside Cersei's chambers by their father, without so much as an explanation.

The timing gave Jaime pause, but a command from Tywin Lannister was not to be questioned. Not even by his own son...especially not by his son.

At the end of the hall stood two Lannister guards, their crimson cloaks bright even in the dim light. With barely a glance, they stepped aside, allowing Jaime entry to the dungeons.

Taking a deep breath, he descended the worn stone steps. He wound his way deep into the bowels of the ancient castle, to the section reserved for holding prisoners and traitors. The dungeons were damp and drafty, but it was the stench that hit him fist, the foul smell of unwashed bodies and stale waste in the air.

Jaime wrinkled his nose in distaste. What business could his father possibly have for him in this wretched place? Rounding a corner, he found his father standing rigid as a statue in the flickering torchlight of the dungeon hall.

Tywin's green eyes glinted in the shadows as he glanced at Jaime. "Walk with me."

Without waiting for a reply, his father turned on his heel, his crimson cloak swirling behind him as he led Jaime deeper into the dungeons. At the end of the hall, Tywin stopped before the last door and produced an iron key. The hinges creaked as he pushed open the door and motioned for Jaime to enter.

Jaime stepped inside, squinting in the dim light. As his eyes adjusted, he saw them: five young women, all chained to beds in the grimy cell. All five women were blonde and green-eyed, just like Cersei—and to his horror, like his sister, they were all heavily pregnant their swollen bellies straining against the roughspun fabric of their gowns. They shrank back from him, cowering away from him as much as their chains would allow.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jaime turned to his father, his hand instinctively dropping to his sword hilt.

There was no feeling from Tywin as he spoke. "Lannister bastards, paid to let your sisters lord husband get them with child."

"Why?"

"Rumors have spread...," Tywin finally looked away from the women to glare at his son, "questions surrounding the parentage and legitimacy of the royal children."

Jaime rolled his eyes. "When have lions ever cared about the opinion of sheep?"

The Lord of Casterly Rock's stony expression never faltered, his face a mask of indifference as he spoke. "When the rumors are true, Jaime."

A chill ran down Jaime's spine at the implication. After all these years, was the secret finally out?

No, Jaime shoved the thought away, refusing to believe that his father could remain so composed if he knew the truth—that Jaime himself was the father of the king and queen's royal children.

Jaime chose his words carefully. "Lies and deceptions from our enemies, nothing more."

"Be that as it may," Tywin continued. "When Cersei's child arrives with the Baratheon look, the rumors will be silenced."

Jaime's jaw clenched in frustration. "And what if the babe bears Lannister features?"

His father waved this concern aside. "Unlikely. Baratheon seed in Lannister women almost always produce offspring with black hair."

Jaime stiffened, staring at his father. There were unspoken words being said. A lie he and Cersei had kept to themselves since they were old enough to understand what fucking was. Would his father say the truth they both knew aloud?

For a moment Tywin said nothing, eyes searching his son's face. When he spoke again, his voice was cold and flat. "Your sister will be unconscious for some time after birthing. When she awakens, she will be told she birthed twins."

"But if she only recalls one babe, will she not be suspicious of this twin?"

"Easily dealt with," Tywin said impatiently. "The maester has provided enough Milk of the Poppy to muddle her memory of the birth. We will tell her the second child came some minutes later, while she was still dazed from the first birth."

"Cersei will never forgive such a deceit. She may expose the bastard herself when it resembles Robert," Jaime said. "She—"

"Will never know. You will tell your sister that she birthed twins," Tywin interrupted. "Maester Creylen will tell her there were two placentas clear evidence that there were two different fathers. And I will tell her that I sent all the maids present for the birth to Essos to hide her shame. Do you understand, Jaime?"

"Cersei is your daughter. Your blood. Would you truly manipulate her so cruelly?"

Tywin seized Jaime by the collar, wrenching him close. "You are in no position to speak to me of cruelty, boy! You and your sister have spat upon our family's legacy! The Lannister name teeters on the brink of ruin. I will do whatever is necessary to ensure our house's survival."

He released Jaime with a shove. Jaime sagged against the wall, staring at his father in disbelief.

"Even you can't control when a baby is born," Jaime said, breaking the heavy silence.

Tywin's stern face remained impassive, his green eyes focused unwaveringly on the path ahead. "Perhaps not," he replied, "but I don't have to. The maesters know of a technique where they can cut the baby from the womb."

Jaime's stomach churned with a wave of visceral disgust at the horrifying implications of his father's words. He wanted to speak out against his father's plans, but the fear of his father's wrath held him back.

"Why am I here?" he asked, forcing himself to speak. "You could have brought the baby to Cersei's chambers and told me what happened. Why bring me down here to witness this."

Tywin studied him for a moment, his green eyes cold and calculating. "I brought you here to teach you a lesson," he said, his voice low and steady. "You needed to see the consequences of your actions."

Jaime's heart twisted at the mention of Cersei, and the forbidden love they shared. He knew their relationship was dangerous, but he had never imagined it would lead to something like this.

"Proceed," Tywin commanded, turning towards the group of maesters who had been anxiously waiting nearby.

As the maesters approached the woman lying on a makeshift table, Jaime felt a cold knot forming in his stomach. He wanted to scream, to protest, to put an end to this madness—but he knew that doing so would only provoke his father's wrath. Instead, he held his tongue and fought to keep his breathing even.

The maesters worked with clinical precision, their blood-stained hands moving deftly over the swollen bellies of the mothers. The women's anguished cries filled the dungeon, echoing off the stone walls and he couldn't help but think of Cersei in pain, and how their forbidden love had led them to this dark moment. Each incision seemed to tear at Jaime's own insides.

Jaime clenched his fists at his sides, struggling to keep his composure as the first baby was extracted from its mother's womb. The baby's cries pierced the air like a dagger through Jaime's heart, and he couldn't bear it any longer. His vision blurred with unshed tears, and he turned away. He had seen death countless times before, but this felt different—more intimate, more perverse.

"Pay attention, Jaime," Tywin's voice cut through the air like a knife, forcing Jaime to refocus on the gruesome scene unfolding before him. "This is how we ensure the Lannister legacy."

Jaime swallowed hard and forced himself to watch as the second, third, and fourth babies were removed from their mother's womb.

Finally, the maester handed Tywin the fifth baby—a tiny bundle with dark black hair and bright green eyes. The child was a perfect blend of Lannister and Baratheon features that both fascinated and repulsed Jaime, leaving him wondering if this was what the king's trueborn children might have looked like.

"Take this child to Cersei," Tywin instructed, his voice cold and unyielding. He held the babe towards Jaime. "Present him as Tommen's twin."

Jaime reached out to accept the infant. Its fragile body felt far too small and delicate in his arms, a disconcerting reminder of the life he now held in his hands. He looked back at the other four babies, their mother's still forms lying lifeless on the beds, and forced himself to hold back the bile rising in his throat.

"Go," Tywin said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a heavy heart, Jaime nodded and turned away from the grisly scene in the dungeon. As he climbed the stairs back toward Cersei's chambers, he couldn't help but feel a sense of shame that clung to him like a shroud. Each step felt heavier than the last as if the weight of his sins were bearing down on him.

As he reached Cersei's chamber door, another Maester awaited him with a second baby, its blonde hair shining like spun gold. Jaime accepted the child, cradling both infants carefully in his arms as he pushed open the door to Cersei's chambers.

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the lingering scent of blood and sweat. Cersei lay exhausted on the bed, her usually pristine golden curls damp and matted against her pale skin.

"Jaime," Cersei whispered, her voice thick with the lingering effects of the Milk of the Poppy. Her green eyes, though dulled with fatigue, held a glimmer of relief as they locked onto his. "Is it over?"

"Here," he murmured, steeling himself as he carried both infants to her bedside. "You birthed...twins."

Cersei's eyes widened in confusion, then narrowed in suspicion as she studied their tiny, fragile forms. She looked from one infant to the other - one with hair as black as night, the other shining gold.

"Twins?" she slurred through her exhaustion, her fingers twitching toward the black-haired infant cradled in her brother's arms. "Why does one have black hair?"

Jaime hesitated for a moment before speaking. "The maester already informed our father," he said, carefully choosing his words. "They found two separate placentas. It means there were two different fathers."

In the end, Tywin Lannister would have his way, and Jaime would have to live with the consequences.

P.S. There is a cover image to the story now!
Looking for a site to post a larger image and will post a link when I do!