IMPORTANT: for those that read the last two chapters before 16/12/2020, there have been a few changes I have gone back and made. Annoying I know, so apologies for that, but having put some thought into it, I believe they enhance the story. As both chapters are rather long, I'll summarise the biggest change here; instead of Myrcella being betrothed to Trystane, Jaime is betrothed to Oberyn. I also fixed a few errors (mentions of the Blackwater, which never happened here). 

*

Jaime stood at the foot of the Iron Throne along with her father, as Orryn addressed the assembled court from his lofty seat. 

"The death of my brother, King Joffrey was a great tragedy," Her son even managed to make that sound convincing. "My uncle, Lord Cersen, saw fit to imprison my Uncle Tyrion at the time of his Grace's death, under suspicion of regicide. I come before you today to declare that fortunately, Lord Cersen was mistaken in his grief at his nephew's death. Lord Tyrion did not murder my brother. Not only that, but the real culprit has been found,"

Gasps and muttering filled the hall. Some were expressing doubt at the king's claims, concerned his wicked dwarf uncle had deceived him somehow. Others were swearing all along that they never believed Tyrion had done such an awful thing; many of these were the same ones Jaime had lately heard proclaiming to anyone who would listen that they'd always known the Imp was evil, and wished they'd shared their misgivings about him earlier.

Orryn raised his voice to be heard over them, and quickly the murmur died down.

"The Lady Sansa Lannister," He nodded to the girl, who stood with a neutral expression as all eyes fell on her. "In a display of true loyalty to her husband and the Iron Throne, informed us that as my beloved brother lay gasping his last breaths on the floor, several men snatched her away in an attempted kidnap, using the chaos of the king's assassination as a cover, an attempt that our own guards thankfully foiled. Who was the man leading this group, my lady?"

"Ser Dontos Hollard, your Grace" Sansa said, voice the perfect balance between believably nervous and convincing. "I believed him to be a harmless fool. Ser Dontos was always kind to me, before then. He even gave me a beautiful hairnet as a gift, to wear to the wedding,"

"This hairnet, my lady?" Orryn lifted his hand, revealing the purple jewels clasped in his clenched fist.

"Yes, your Grace," The girl nodded. 

"No doubt you believed it a harmless, well-meant gift, my lady, as most of us would, particularly someone of your gentle nature," The king said. Gentle. Jaime wasn't so sure about that anymore. Not after us Lannisters got to her. Not after Joffrey took her father's head. Orryn addressed the court. "We found this hairnet in a suspicious location, and Grand Maester Pycelle wisely saw fit to study it," He gestured down to the table where the Small Council sat. "Grand Maester, would you inform the court of your findings?" 

The ancient old fool doddered to his feet, clearing his throat.

"Poison, your Grace," Another perfect dramatic delivery. Another round of gasps from the court. Sansa's hand flew to her mouth, eyes widening in convincing horror. If this hadn't been for Tyrion, Jaime would have laughed aloud at the performance everyone was putting on. Indeed, Helia looked close to rolling her eyes. "These gems contain a rare and deadly poison called the Strangler, known to cause a manner of death exactly like our dear departed king's,"

Once again, Orryn raised a hand for silence, which was fast in coming, but not as fast as if Lord Tywin had demanded it.

"Upon learning this information, I sent men to search for the missing Ser Dontos. He was found in a whorehouse by the docks - having failed to escape the city by ship - and extensively questioned," That's right, best not say I did it. The moment they heard the Kingslayer was involved, the moment they start questioning the validity of the confession. "Bring him out," 

A murmur went through the court as the disgraced knight was dragged out before the court in chains. He did look rather worse for wear, but not bad enough for anyone to find issue with. Not that they'd even done that much to the man, given how quickly he'd cracked. Hollard had been dressed in fine clothes - it was harder to pity someone who did not look so wretched - and of course wore gloves to hide the missing fingernail.

"Tell the court of your treason," Orryn ordered. "How you murdered my brother, King Joffrey," Ser Dontos wisely did as asked, confessing in a halting voice how he despised Joffrey for the king making him play the fool, and had wanted him dead for a while. The perfect opportunity came when he was approached by Petyr Baelish - and didn't that bring forward a lot of gasps and angry muttering - and offered coin to give the poisoned hairnet to Lady Sansa, and slip a jewel into the king's wine during the feast. Also, to abduct Sansa in the resulting chaos.

It wasn't exactly what the man had told Jaime, but it was close enough. No doubt Lord Tywin had told Hollard exactly what to say, reinforcing her threat of giving him to the Mountain if he didn't comply. And if things had got this far, her father had to have approved, which meant Tyrion was as good as free the moment the court assembled

"Dontos Hollard is a weak-willed, yellow-bellied excuse of a man," Orryn said. "Petyr Baelish is an ambitious, slippery social climber, who believed my brother to be too strong a king to easily manipulate, and wished to destabilise the kingdoms in order to twist the chaos to his advantage," 

His lip curled slightly in a distinctly Lannister way. Good on him for playing the fears of most lords and ladies - those of lower birth rising above their station - against them. 

"Lord Baelish is due to land in the Vale in the next few weeks, our informants say. All the lords of the Vale have been told of his coming, and will be waiting for him, to bring him back to King's Landing for trial. As for Dontos Hollard, he has confessed to regicide and will be beheaded before the city three days from now. But for now, I wish to declare before all of you, that at no point was Tyrion Lannister nor his wife Lady Sansa brought into any suspicion during the questioning of Ser Dontos. My uncle is an innocent man, wrongly accused by Lord Cersen in his grief for his nephew, and will walk free among us once more,"

Jaime did smile then. She would never enjoy the plotting and scheming nature of court, but at times like this, when she got what she wanted... she could understand what others saw in it, especially now her little brother was no longer under threat of execution. And the scumbag that aided in her son's death was to pay for it.

*

Orryn's wedding was not as spectacular as Joffrey's. Partly because of the mounting debt the crown owed Tywin Lannister, the Iron Bank and many other lenders besides, but also because Jaime was the one planning it rather than her brother or Lady Tyrell.

Not to say it was meagre, by any means. The bride looked beautiful, the king looked impressive, and seven courses at the feast was more than enough; if anyone was missing the additional seventy, Jaime did not hear any complaints about it. Most importantly, this time she was present to see her son be married, draping the black and gold cloak bearing the Baratheon stag  around Margaery Tyrell's shoulders, most definitely not the Lannister cloak Joffrey had used; and what had Cersen been thinking when he made that decision?

There was, very deliberately, not a hint of red on Orryn's person. Her son wore black, with gold accents, and a shimmering gold cloak, which was clearly appreciated by the members of the city watch. The crowds cheered as he rode through the city on his fine black warhorse, first alone heading to the Great Sept and then back to the Red Keep with his new wife at his side. 

Jaime wasn't sure if they were cheering Orryn himself, or the fact that they no longer had a king who ordered crossbows shot at them, but it was a good show nonetheless. And Margaery was no less popular, the darling of the city. Her father giving out food to starving citizens no doubt helped the girl there. 

Cersen loathed the whole thing, of course. Not visibly - to most he appeared charming, gracious and nothing but pleased for his nephew - but she knew him better, saw the cold look in his eye. Her twin was ignoring her at the moment, clearly expecting her to come to him begging his forgiveness before long. She couldn't blame him for thinking that, for that's how things would have gone in the past, but it was different now. He'd realise that eventually, perhaps. More likely he wouldn't, but there was little she could do about that.

Partway through the feast, Jaime found herself only a few feet away from the new queen. She had not interacted much with Margaery Tyrell before, yet like Cersen, there had to be more to her than the perfection she presented outwardly; kind, chaste, demure, cheerful, intelligent, gracious, witty, beautiful, polished. Jaime had perhaps been two of those things at her age. The girl was much too good to be true. 

"Lady Jaime," Margaery looked up at her approach, smiling warmly and excusing herself from the crowd of fawning young ladies around her. "I must say, you look very beautiful tonight. Radiant, even,"

"Thank you, your Grace," Many others had told her the same thing. She had once taken compliments like that as a given - of course she looked beautiful - but now she took them with a pinch of salt. Either way, she had never been moved by such flattery, but it couldn't hurt to try and be pleasant for once. She didn't particularly want her son's bride as an enemy. Not without reason. "But I could hardly hope to outshine the Rose of Highgarden at her own wedding," 

The little queen laughed a tinkling laugh. 

"I do hope we will become good friends, now myself and his Grace are married," Gods, she was sweet enough to be sickening. "I am sure you have much to teach me about married life, and my new responsibilities,"

"I was never queen. I can teach you how to use a sword, but I believe you exceed me in most other matters; politics, being a lady, being a good wife, playing a part," Her smile sharpened. "I hope, anyway. Be a good wife to my son, and I'm sure we will get along just fine," So much for being nice. 

Before Margaery could think up a reply to that, Jaime glanced back to the crowd of young girls she had left behind, all eyes darting their way and whispering behind their hands. 

"Are they pitying you for ending up with the Kingslayer as your goodmother?" She raised an eyebrow, wondering how much it would take for the girl's mask to crack. Probably more than she was willing to give, considering how well Margaery had held up against Joff.

"It isn't kind that people still call you that, after all this time," The girl barely blinked, even managing to seem sympathetic. Unfortunate, given how Jaime hated sympathy. "I try my best not to listen to rumours, Lady Jaime, though many of my ladies are dreadful gossips. I'm sure you know how young girls get," She gave a slightly regretful but nonetheless warm smile. If you were willing to marry Joff given what everyone said about him, you must indeed have had your ears sewn shut. 

Jaime caught the watchful eye of Olenna Tyrell on them from some distance away, and smiled, amused. She's her grandmother's pretty puppet, is all. Still, it would be worth paying attention to Queen Margaery, just in case.

"I could reduce them all to tears in less than five words," She cast a mildly disdainful eye over the group, then grinned abruptly. "Though I doubt I could to you. You've got a thicker skin, I wager. That's a good thing to have in this place,"

"In this family?" That little sentence didn't have the same polished, practiced air that the rest of the girl's actions did. No, it was... witty? And coupled with a fleeting wicked look. Jaime smirked, wondering if she'd just got a glimpse of the real Margaery Tyrell.

"You've picked that up at least," She said dryly. "There's some hope for you yet," The girl actually laughed at that, properly laughed, rather than that tinkling little noise that everyone found so charming.

After they parted, Jaime watched as a giggling young Tyrell cousin flung herself at the queen, and her flawless smile switched back on in the blink of an eye. Jaime shook her head, amused. The girl was good.

"My lady," She turned around, then looked up, to see Brien stood before her. He looked as ugly and awkward as ever, though someone had dressed him in the new clothes she'd instructed Pia to have made for him, knowing he had nothing suitable to wear to a feast. 

"Blue is a good colour on you, ser," Jaime said, forgoing a greeting. "It goes well with your eyes," He does have astonishing eyes. Brien glanced down at himself, flustered. 

"Pia said you sent her," There was somewhat of a strangled note to his voice, and it took her a second to realise why. When she did, she laughed, loudly. 

"Would you believe me if I just asked her to see that you had some decent clothes?" That was the truth, but she gave the knight a sly look nonetheless. "Well, then, how was Pretty Pia?"

"I didn't - we - she - " Brien broke off uncomfortably. "I sent her away," 

"Are you a pillow biter?" She blinked in surprise, both at his words and the fact she was somewhat glad he had sent her away. The idea of Pia and Brien together was oddly disconcerting.

"No," He protested, a flush of anger rising to his cheeks. "I just didn't want her," There was something in his voice there, as he looked at her, that made Jaime pause. "You look..."

"Different?" She suggested with a half-smile, echoing his words from the other day. "Better than old and tired, I suppose," She'd overheard a group of ladies sharing that particular opinion earlier. At least they couldn't tell she was stuffing half her chest, or they'd have had a field day.

"I was going to say you look beautiful," Her eyes widened, and he flushed again, though this time from embarrassment. "Forgive me, my lady, I didn't - "

"Jaime," She said without thinking. "Call me Jaime. I thought being called Kingslayer across the Riverlands was tiresome, but it's just plain odd hearing you address me properly," She smiled her dazzling smile then, because really, his subsequent awkwardness had not diminished the surprisingly well-delivered compliment. "Perhaps it's the dress. I thought gold was appropriate for the occasion - it always was my colour. Green better suits my eyes, but no proud lion could ever wear green to a Tyrell wedding," She swirled her skirts slightly, and he smiled.

"Speaking of Tyrells, Ser Loras challenged me to a spar earlier,"

"No doubt that's what he was whining about earlier - you winning through dirty tricks. He claims you beat him that way at Bitterbridge, and I must say I can see where he's coming from,"

"I never said I won. And whenever I have beaten you, I have done so fairly!"

"You didn't have to. And have you forgotten the time you tried to drown me in a river?" He narrowed his eyes rather indignantly at that.

"You were trying to kill me at the time!"

"Why don't you shout that a bit louder, boy," Jaime said flatly, but her eyes were amused. "You're not doing anything to help my reputation. And I've heard accusing the mother of the king of attempted murder is a sure way to get yourself removed from a royal wedding feast," He opened his mouth, but she cut him off, grinning. "Lighten up. Why don't you come and dance,"

"I don't dance," His eyes immediately widened in what could only be called panic. "I can't dance,"

"Any man can dance," Jaime went to grab his wrist, but he'd folded his arms. "All you have to do is stand there while your partner makes you look good," She stepped back and sighed. "Gods, you're as stubborn as a mule," She smiled sharply. "Trust me, even if you've got two left feet, it won't matter. No one's looking, besides," All eyes were on the young couple, and she was glad.

"That's not true," Brien said. "Your brother has been glaring this way ever since we started talking," 

"Of course he has..." Jaime whirled around, catching Cersen's eye from where he sat at the high table, fake smile on his face as he pretended to listen to whichever mildly influential sycophant he'd ensnared now, whilst his eyes were glaring daggers in the direction of her and Brien. Her brother held her stare for a few moments, lip curling, then he turned away again. "He refuses to speak to me, yet keeps lurking in the background,"

"I thought you and Lord Cersen were too cl - I mean, very close?" Subtly really wasn't one of his strengths.

"We were," She said. "Until I refused to let Tyrion die for a crime he didn't commit, then stole the position of Regent from him," She smiled suddenly, brightly, making up her mind there and then. "It doesn't matter if Cersen is watching or not. Dance with me, ser," He was caught off guard this time, and only made weak protests as she dragged him towards the other dancing wedding guests. "I trust you know how," 

Her tone was laden, and he flushed, hands hovering awkwardly over her waist. 

"Get over yourself," Jaime grinned, moving his hands onto her properly. "You've touched more of me than this,"

"The circumstances were hardly the same," The ghost of a smile appeared at his lips as they started to move in time with the music.

"And thank the gods for it," She said. "I hope I never need to be dragged unconscious from a bathtub again. Of course, I doubt we'd be permitted to share a bath, now we're not at Harrenhal. My husband-to-be wouldn't care overmuch, but I'm sure my father would,"

"Husband-to-be?" Brien's big blue eyes widened, and then she remembered he didn't know, that no one did. 

"Oberyn Martell," She grimaced slightly. "My daughters are too valuable to give to Dorne, so Father dearest is giving me instead,"

"But you had eight children with your first husband," He saw the look on her face and pulled a face. "You know what I mean. How can he expect you... again?" It was almost charming, how outraged he appeared on her behalf.

"I've made it perfectly clear that he shouldn't expect any children," She said. "That shouldn't be a problem, given neither of us are heir to anything. Truthfully, things shouldn't change too much. I'll still live in the city. Prince Oberyn isn't the worst match, aside from wanting half my family dead, but it would be hard to find a man in Westeros I'm not related to that doesn't want that,"

"You want to marry him?" Brien sounded normal enough, but his eyes looked... hurt?

"No," Jaime said. "But if I have to marry anyone, I'd rather marry the man who doesn't particularly care what I do and who with," She laughed then. "Prince Oberyn has eight bastard daughters, he's got no room to question what I do,"

"So you will soon have fifteen children," 

"I believe the eldest is scarce six or seven years younger than I am. I wonder if she'll call me mother,"

The song the musicians troupe were playing changed then, to something faster and more upbeat.

"You're a good dancer," Brien sounded slightly surprised as the steps became faster and more complicated in turn.

"You've seen my footwork with a sword in hand," Jaime grinned. "Why would it be any lesser without?"

"I just... didn't expect it,"

"Too ladylike for me?" She raised an amused eyebrow.

"Well, yes," 

"Most people here would be more surprised to see me covered in mud and blood, fighting with a sword and wearing borrowed breeches than dancing at a courtly feast in a pretty dress,"

"Can you blame me? The first time I saw you, you were dead-drunk and I had to all but carry you out of a dungeon," He chuckled slightly. "You smell better like this," Jaime laughed, feeling lighter than she had done in a while, and she hadn't even drunk that much. She couldn't even see Cersen glowering at them anymore.

As that song finished, she saw Helia making a beeline for them, looking nothing short of furious. 

"Excuse me, ser," She moved away from Brien to intercept her daughter. 

"Have you seen that?" Helia hissed, trying not to draw attention to them but jabbing a finger in the direction of the dance floor. 

It took Jaime a few seconds to see what she was pointing at, but when she did she felt anger rise up in her, as her blood ran cold. She swore under her breath and narrowed her eyes at the sight of her brother dancing with her daughter. Ordinarily the brother in question would be Tyrion, and the sight would make her smile, but it wasn't, and didn't. Cersen was dancing with Myrcella, and shot Jaime a rather nasty smirk when he saw her looking. 

"We can't make a scene," Helia reminded her needlessly. Jaime knew that, but if the girl hadn't been there with her hand on her arm that wouldn't have stopped her going over and making one. "It would cause too many whispers, or I'd have gone right over there,"

"In that case I suppose I shouldn't go myself," She said darkly. "I can only imagine the whispers at that. The Kingslayer's been upstaged by her younger and more beautiful daughter, they'll say. Gods, that look on his face... he's her uncle," It was rather too similar to the look he once gave his sister for her to not be disgusted. But given he'd always viewed Jaime as an extension of himself, what had her twin twisted Myrcella - his daughter, the girl who looked so much like her mother, and therefore like him - into in his head?

"I'll do it," Helia said, a vicious note to her tone. "I'll make up some excuse. Cella won't object, she likes him no more than I do. Likely he gave her no way of saying no to a dance,"

"He's good at that," Jaime muttered. "Speak of something else, if we can't do anything until the song ends, or I might just smash something," She looked around for inspiration, seeing Brien some distance away, talking with some other young knights but glancing their way rather often.

"You look lovely tonight, Mother," The change in her daughter's expression was deliberately overdramatic, not nearly as polished as Margaery Tyrell who she was no doubt trying to impersonate, and Jaime had to chuckle at the unnaturally cheery smile Helia now wore. She took the time to appreciate how beautiful her daughter looked as well, in a gown of black, red and gold, more low cut than usual, the style she had favoured herself, before the Bloody Mummers.

"So do you," She replied. "You've turned a few heads tonight. Why, Ser Brien is hardly able to take his eyes off you," He still kept glancing their way. Helia laughed.

"You blind fool," Her daughter shook her head. "It's not me he's looking at,"

"Not this again," Jaime glanced in the knight's direction, and he flushed slightly, looking away. "A pretty dress can't make him unsee what he's seen of me. Not to mention he's half a boy,"

"He's what, five-and-twenty?" Helia teased. "Doesn't look like half a boy. That's only eight years younger than you,"

"Thirteen years younger," She replied flatly. "He's barely twenty, with a face like the back end of a horse,"

"He's old enough to notice a beautiful woman," She shrugged. "There's been marriages with worse age differences. And his face is hardly a deal-breaker, look at the rest of him,"

"Are you trying to irritate me?" Jaime shot her daughter a half-hearted glare, but then the song stopped. They looked at each other. 

"See you later," Helia's jaw set as she strode off towards her sister. Though that wasn't what any of them wanted tonight, it would be rather interesting to see an open confrontation between that girl and Cersen. The unstoppable force meets the immovable object.

Having seen Helia successfully extract Myrcella from Cersen's clutches, placing an arm around her sister's shoulder as she led her away, Jaime suddenly felt a wave of bitterness. It was never meant to be like this. Thinking of how her twin had been once made her sad for what he had become. Or had he always been like this and she'd been too blind to notice? Either way, she mourned how she had felt then, like being with him was all she would ever need. Things were simpler then.

That feeling wasn't helped as she looked over to Brien and saw that he had attracted the attention of a rather forward serving girl. She's quite pretty, too. Why did Jaime not like to see that, the young knight with a pretty girl, finally, after all her needling? She was never one for jealousy, let alone over one such as Ser Brien of Tarth.

To prove that she wasn't jealous, she went and found Tyrion, with the aim of drinking, a lot. Her little brother was already well along the path to waking up in a pool of his own vomit, more than enjoying his freedom, even weeks after being declared innocent. Jaime had to smile as he patted her arm and filled her cup for her, spilling half of it all over the table.

"They can't ac - cuse me of murder again if I'm - if I'm passed out under the table," Tyrion said solemnly, tapping his nose. 

"That's... true enough," She shrugged, downing half the cup in one swallow.

Every now and then Jaime would look up and see that same serving girl hanging around Brien. Why he hadn't left with her yet was beyond her. A face like that, he should be grateful for attention from such a pretty girl. How could the man who was beaten to a pulp for refusing to submit to the Bloody Mummers turn so shy when it came to matters like this?

She wasn't quite sure when she left the hall, going into the yard. Time had started to blur a little after the bedding ceremony. Jaime hadn't realised how drunk she was until she got to her feet. It wasn't anywhere near the level that she'd be passing out in corridors for any passing Roberts to find, but she did have to focus somewhat more than usual on not tripping over her skirts. 

Someone called her name as she left the courtyard, but she barely registered it, until she heard heavy footsteps behind her and someone caught her arm. 

"Jaime," Brien let her go as she turned, and she looked up at him, into those wide blue eyes. "Where are you going?"

"To bed," She carried on walking, though went past the way to Maegor's Holdfast, to the now deserted cloisters, knowing she'd be unable to sleep just yet but trying to get rid of him. "Have you been drinking?" Her lips quirked in a smile. "I smell it on you,"

"Not quite as much as you have, I think,"

"Did you mean it?" She found herself asking, stopping in her tracks. "Earlier, when you said I looked beautiful?" It sounded pathetic even as the words left her lips, but she had drunk too much to care. They stood in the shadows of the castle, the sounds of the feast still going on in the distance.

"Of course," He looked baffled that she'd think anything else. What had she done to make him look at her like she was the maiden herself? Twenty, he's twenty years old, where I am a widow of three and thirty. I was birthing my first son at the same time he was running around playing with wooden swords and toy knights.

But as usual, Jaime didn't listen to her head, standing on her tiptoes and pulling his head down to meet her lips in what was, for her, an unusually soft kiss. It was a spur of the moment thing, not even a decision; she was just as surprised at herself as he likely was. 

Brien froze, seeming too shocked to respond. She quickly pulled back, stepping away. That look on his face, and the cold night air, had cleared her head somewhat. Not necessarily a good thing.

"Apologies," She said shortly, to hide the fact her heart was sinking. "That was a momentary lapse of judgement. Put it down to the drink and I'll leave you to your pretty serving wench," She turned and started to walk away.

"No, I - " He broke off, struggling to get his words out as he caught her up. "I mean to say - you weren't - I don't want that girl," Brien's voice was stronger now, and she looked up at him as they walked, side by side. The implied meaning, which he was too shy to say, was obvious from the way he was looking at her.

"You'd prefer a widow with the stretch marks from birthing eight children to a young, willing girl like that?" Jaime raised an eyebrow. "I bet she even has two breasts. Why don't you check, just to be sure?" And you never saw her on her back on a forest floor.

"I don't care about that," He said. "Any of it. Why would I? Look at my face,"

"I'd rather look at your body," That was out of her mouth before she could think about what she was saying, and she had to grin at her own words, seeing his blush deepen. It was only half a joke, but of course he thought she was mocking him. "I'd like to think my face has held up better than the rest of me," She offered with less of a leer. "Between us, we make the full set,"

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it," Brien smiled faintly. "But, Jaime, I've never even - " He broke off, embarrassed.

"You say that like I wasn't rubbing it in your face all the way from Riverrun," She said. "You'd only be my third," Well, my third willingly. Seventh if you're really counting. And wasn't that depressing. "I'm really not as much of a whore as they say. So far, I've only been with one man other than my husband. And believe me, no matter what happens, you can't be any worse than my wedding night. Even you're not as uptight as Stannis was," At first, anyway, but she didn't mention that. 

"Was that the first time... you know,"

"Don't ask when I lost my maidenhead, ser. It makes me realise I am genuinely old enough to be your mother,"

"But there's only thirteen years between us, and you married Stannis after you killed the king..." She fixed him with a look, and realisation crossed his face. "Oh," He frowned, though more out of confusion than judgement. "How did no one ever find out?"

"At the time we thought we were so clever," Jaime smiled faintly. "Likely people did find out, and were quite rightly too scared to tell our father. But we got better at hiding it," Abruptly she grinned. "Perfect for situations such as this, ser. My reputation is in tatters already, but best not soil that of Ser Brien of Tarth, the maiden knight," She laughed at the unimpressed look he gave her. 

"Was your tongue always so sharp, my lady?"

She stopped walking then, smirked and took a step towards him, less than an inch from his muscular chest. She stood on her tiptoes once more, hands on his shoulder to murmur in his ear. 

"Let me up to your rooms and I'll show exactly how sharp and wicked my tongue can be,"

"Jaime!" She laughed at his shocked exclamation, falling back onto her heels and linking her arm with his as they continued on their way. She caught his smile at that gesture, felt how he unconsciously pulled her slightly towards him.

"Not tonight, ser, I fear I have drunk rather too much wine," She said, spying an alcove in the wall. "Although..." 

With a sly look she tugged him into the alcove. He followed much more easily than he had when she dragged him out to dance, and when she moved to kiss him, he was already lowering his head to meet her. 

This kiss was harder, and much less sweet. Jaime's back hit the wall and she let her leg hook around his knee, but then two large hands grabbed her waist, lifting her clean off the ground. Chuckling against his mouth, she wrapped her legs around his hips instead, not caring that her skirt had risen up rather high, and looked into Brien's flushing face.

"Didn't know you had that in you, ser," She said coyly. He was clearly regretting what he'd done, though not so much that he wasn't enjoying it. No, proof of that was pressing against her thigh. 

"Jaime, sorry, I - "

"Stop apologising," She kissed him again. "And don't you dare put me down,"

*

Jaime shut the door to her chambers, tired but smiling. Her son had got married today, and was spending his first night with his beautiful young wife, securing the Tyrell alliance in the process. Even the alcohol she had drunk was wearing off. And Brien... 

She had forgotten what it was like to be looked at like that. Stannis, in their most private moments, had occasionally shown hints of that look, but nowhere near the level Brien did. Cersen only wore that look for Joffrey, or in front of a mirror.

Waltzing slightly into the dimly-lit room like a giddy maiden, fumbling with the laces of her constricting gown as she had given Pia the night off, Jaime kicked off her shoes. Her gown undone, she slipped it off, leaving her in a chemise and smallclothes. The rags stuffing half her chest fell to the floor with the outer dress, and for the first time, she didn't resent the sight of them.

She was just starting to loosen the pins holding her hair up, when something out of the corner of her eye caught her by surprise. Jaime looked up with a start and a gasp as she saw a figure sat in the shadows, at the chair by the window, face shrouded in darkness, though that golden hair was unmistakable. 

"Cersen," She hissed as her brother got to his feet, his slight stumble telling her he wasn't entirely sober. Nothing new there. "What in the seven hells are you doing here?" 

Once, finding him in her rooms whilst everyone was distracted at a feast would be a usual affair, and eagerly welcomed. Tonight it was neither, though a part of her wanted nothing more to let herself fall into his arms and pretend, just once more. He was so handsome, hair glinting warmly in the candlelight, tall and lean, his face as stunning as her own. But the feeling of being in Brien's arms, big blue eyes looking down at her, refused to leave her. She wasn't sorry.

"Can't I come and see my sweet sister?" He smirked. 

"I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me,"

"Ah, Jaime," He stumbled forward, the longing in his eyes evident. Once again, she was tempted, that familiar thrill - and love, yes - rising to the surface. So easy, to give in to him as I've done so many times before. Nothing else matters when we're together, even if only for that short time. "How you must have missed me. Longed for me," 

The arrogance of that statement tempered her feelings somewhat. 

"I saw you at the wedding," She said neutrally instead. "Smiling and laughing, playing the court like you were born to it, but your eyes were cold the whole day,"

"And why should I celebrate the marriage of the boy that despises me, to that scheming bitch Margaery Tyrell, widow of both Orryn's uncle and his brother?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. 

"I see no harm in the match," Jaime said. "Mostly because it secures us the kingdoms. And Margaery might be a scheming bitch, but Orryn is Stannis' son, like it or not. He can appreciate a pretty face, which is more than his father at least, but he won't let himself be manipulated by it,"

"He's five-and-ten. Of course he will!"

"Look at his face, brother," Jaime stepped closer towards him, drink making her even more blunt than usual, as shown earlier in the evening. "Look at his hair. He is my son, the son of Stannis Baratheon, not you. You have no say in who he marries. I let you take Joffrey and ruin him even more than he was already broken. You won't do the same to Orryn,"

He sneered at that. 

"And how do you think your precious son will respond if he knew that you lie with your brother? That Joffrey and Myrcella are my children. Will you have his support then? Or will he look at you with disgust and scorn?"

"You weren't looking at Myrcella tonight like she's your daughter," Jaime glared. "And don't make threats you won't keep. As if you'd tell anyone about us, and risk losing everything," She snorted. "Besides, I've never been ashamed of loving you, only of the things I've done to hide it. That boy at Winterfell..."

"Did you stop me throwing him out the window? I don't believe so. If you'd not begged me not to go hunting, nothing would have happened. But no, you had to have me inside you, you could not wait until we returned to the city,"

"I'd waited long enough. I put up with Robert's wandering hands that entire journey, all under Ashara's nose of course," Jaime suddenly remembered something else that troubled her about Winterfell. "At Riverrun, Catelyn Stark seemed convinced I'd sent some footpad to slit her son's throat. That I'd given him a dagger,"

* guesses Joffrey sent Bran's assassin *

"Joffrey had no love for Robb Stark, but the younger boy was nothing to him," Cersen frowned. "He was only a child himself," 

"A child hungry for a pat on the head from that sot he believed was his uncle," 

"How can you say such dreadful things?" Cersen accused. "About your own dead son! If you had seen how Joff died... he fought, Jaime, he fought for every breath, with such terror in his eyes... Do you remember when he was little, he'd run to you when he was scared or hurt? But that night you weren't there. Tyrion murdered him in front of me, and there was nothing I could do," 

It was like Tyrion had never been declared innocent in front of the whole court by the king himself, with plausible evidence to back that up. Cersen's eyes were angry, passionate as he looked down at her, appealing to her strongest instincts. Jaime saw what he was doing, and disliked it. By this point he was close enough to reach out and touch her cheek. 

"Joff is dead, Jaime. I can't protect your second son if he's too ignorant to see that I must be by his side. If you just talk to Father - "

"What do you think I can do that you can't?" She stepped back. "You're Father's heir, I'm his halfwitted whore of a daughter who he made regent to be his puppet. Even if I wanted to talk to him to persuade him to give you the regency, he would not listen,"

"You're his favourite," Her brother scowled. "He never had any expectations for you apart from smile prettily and spread your legs for whichever oaf he married you to. A duty you clear did admirably, if six children by Stannis is anything to go on. Which is why, if you sweeten him up by pretending to be compliant in this marriage scheme of his..." Gods, he didn't know.

"Remember another brilliant scheme of yours, to get me to become a septa, so we would be together forever?" She said instead. "Remember how well that turned out?" Perhaps it made her a coward for not telling him now, but honestly all she wanted to do was sleep. The last thing she wanted was to deal with that tantrum now. She could already hear his words; 'whoring yourself out to get the regency, you used to have more pride than that Jaime, how could you stoop so low?'. 

Her brother's features clouded in anger. 

"Jaime, use that thick head of yours. Father is taking your son away from you as much as he is taking power and authority away from me,"

"Are you delusional?"

"Why are you so against this? You know I won't really let him marry you off again. I want no other man in your bed, ever again," His voice had risen, and he reached out to seize both her wrists.

"Quiet," She said sharply. "You'll make guards come running," She tried to pull away, but his hold was firm.

"Jaime," He snapped in a warning tone, gripping even tighter. "Don't pretend you don't want me. I want you at my side, I want you in my bed, I want to be inside you. Nothing has changed between us. Let me prove it to you," He kissed her, hard and fast, one hand tangling in her hair while the other drew her to him. Where her knees would've once gone soft, as she melted into his arms, this time Jaime tried to draw back.

"No," She said. "Not here. Not now," Even if her children hadn't been sleeping across the hall, which was guarded as well, most of her did not desire him as she once had, and wasn't sure she ever would. It would be easy to fall back into old comfortable habits, but she couldn't, not after all he'd done. 

This is the man that killed my husband, it suddenly hit her, full force. He killed two of my best friend's children, which led to her suicide. He enabled Joff's reign of terror, a second mad king, let him kill Ned Stark and tear the kingdoms apart. He'd have rejoiced to see Tyrion's head on a spike, and did his best to ensure that happened.

"I took you in the sept. This is no different," Was that the last time? His hand went to her skirts, beginning to gather them up, whilst the other tangled in her hair. 

"No. Not here, I said. Get off me," Jaime once again tried to push back, but his grip in her hair tightened, and his other hand, now on her backside, squeezed painfully.

For an instant she could see confusion in his bright green eyes, and a flash of fear as well. Then rage replaced it. He did not let her go, and his lip curled as he stared down at her, forcing her to look back up at him by pulling on her hair, other hand holding her struggling wrists.

"Did they mutilate your cunt as well as your teats at Harrenhal?" He hissed. "Time was all I had to do was look at you and your legs would fall open,"

"How do you know about that?" She demanded, blood running cold as she realised her padding had long since fallen away; he hadn't mentioned it, saving it up to make it hurt the most, which meant someone had told him beforehand.

"Father assumed I already knew," He sneered. "He mentioned an injury you had sustained on your return home, and it only took a bit of subtle questioning amongst your maids for me to find out the truth. Were you ashamed to tell me, sister? Trying to hide the fact you're no longer a whole woman?" 

With he ripped her chemise down the front, exposing what was left of her chest. Though considerably better than it had been at Harrenhal after Qyburn's continued care, the wound was far from healed, and far from nice to look at. The look of amused disgust on her brother's face was everything she had dreaded and more.

"What else did the men who did this do?" Cersen said cruelly. "I doubt they left it at that. Is all this your attempt at driving me away, so I don't discover your shame, that you've been used by two dozen men?" He didn't really believe that, she knew, or he wouldn't be trying to fuck her now. He said it only to hurt her.

Her brother smirked at her silence. She was silent out of sheer disbelief alone, unable to comprehend how he could be so self-centred, how awful, and how she had taken so long to realise it. Also silent because she suspected she'd slap him the moment she allowed herself to move.

"But what else do you have but me, Jaime, especially after this?" He continued. "Don't pretend you don't long for me still,"

"I long for the brother I loved years ago," She spoke, finally, the rage winning out over numb shock. "Whatever you've become, you're hardly my other half anymore,"

"You have the nerve to say that?" He snapped then, anger flashing in his eyes. "After your usurped my position, for responsibilities you've always hated, just to save that twisted little creature you call family?" Cersen's lip curled in malice. "Not to mention that you're hardly the beauty you once were. The Light of the West, old, haggard and mutilated,"

"Perhaps," She didn't deny it. "Yet I still have the title and influence you long for. And I didn't even particularly work for it. What does that tell you?" She made herself smile.

Jaime knew that would anger him, and she was right. The slap came fast, as sharp as her smile, hitting her across the cheek. It stung, though not as much as his words had. After a few moments of staring at each other, both rather surprised, she snapped out of her stunned shock and used the fact he'd let go of her hair to wrestle away from him, jumping back out of reach. 

"Never touch me like that again, brother," She was breathing heavily, angrily. "Get out, now," To hurry him along, she marched over to the door, knowing he wouldn't want the guards in the hallway hearing anything of their conversation, or knowing he was here at all. Yet before she could get there, she felt two hands grab her waist roughly. "Cersen, let go," Jaime hissed. "Get your hands off me,"

"Not until I can make you listen," 

At that ominous declaration, she grabbed both his wrists and tried to shove his hands off her. But as much as she was the better fighter, she lacked a sword, and her brother had over half a foot on her. He managed to manhandle her halfway across the room, even as she struggled furiously, cursing him the whole way. Then he worked out that putting too much pressure on her still-healing wound had her doubling over in pain, stifling a scream. Even the Brave Companions had learned not to do that.

"What's got into you, Jaime?" Cersen panted, throwing her face down on the bed. Before she could do anything more than turn onto her back, intending to roll onto the floor, he was on top of her, between her legs, forcing them open as another arm held her down.

Suddenly Jaime wasn't in her chambers in the Red Keep anymore, staring up at the dark ceiling as the single candle flickered. The smells of the forest surrounded her, the earth cold and damp at her back, sharp stones digging in, wet leaves in her hair, the stench of blood, unwashed clothes and her own rotting flesh in the air, crude taunts in her ears, and hands all over her, horrible grabbing tearing hands. She couldn't move, couldn't make a sound, or they'd take her eyes, knock her teeth out, break her fingers one by one, saw off a hand or a foot and make her eat it, force Brien to join in just for a cheap laugh. Gods, they were already making the boy watch.

The feelings of that night all came back in an instant; pain, humiliation and raw, unadulterated terror. For the second time since escaping Edmure Tully's dungeon, she did what she couldn't have done that night in the forest. Jaime screamed. 

Cersen quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, but she bit it, hard, and it was his turn to shout as blood splashed onto her face and chest. Taking advantage of his distraction, she yanked her arms out from his grip and lashed out with a well-aimed fist, catching his jaw hard enough to snap his head back.

She regretted her scream as soon as she heard running footsteps outside, concerned voices. The door was flung open, to her horror, and her brother's. Cersen had never moved faster to get off her, still cursing and nursing his hand and face both. It was too late, however. The two figures at the door had already seen the entire scene. 

Tyrion, at least, had the sense to slam the door shut. Arthur, on the other hand, had never looked more like his father as his face clouded over in sheer fury, crossing the room in two strides towards his uncle.

"Stop," Jaime was forced to quickly gather herself and moved to intercept him, leaping in between him and her brother, unable to worry that she wasn't even dressed, that her chemise was ripped down the front. She had to physically hold her son back, keeping her voice low as Tyrion quickly assured the concerned guards outside, chuckling that yes, everything was fine, the Lady Regent had just seen a very large spider. "Arthur, don't say a word, shut your mouth right now, step back, or you'll bring people running and I'll lose my head," 

Some of that seemed to register, as Arthur thankfully didn't yell, and she no longer had to to actively hold him back, though she didn't move from between him and Cersen regardless.

"You bastard," Her son's voice, thankfully as quiet as he was capable of being, was shaking with rage, looking at Cersen with the purest loathing. Cersen looked back at him with much the same expression, but Jaime saw the fear in his expression. He doesn't know what to do. Not that she did either. They had never been caught out so undeniably before, with so few options. "I'll kill you, you filthy, disgusting, lowlife - "

"How dare you speak to me like this, boy," Her brother hissed, drawing himself up as best he could whilst nursing his bitten hand and effectively using his sister as a shield. "Didn't your father teach you to respect your betters?"

"Clearly our father didn't teach you not to rape your sister?"  Tyrion had moved away from that door after shutting it with a click, looking dangerously cold, colder than Jaime had ever seen him. Cersen opened his mouth furiously, but Tyrion did perhaps the best thing he could've done to annoy him further, and turned away. "Jaime, here," He offered his cloak, which she quickly draped around herself, not particularly wanting any of the people in this room to see her bare chest. "You're covered in blood," He sounded concerned.

"That's Cersen's," She forced her voice to remain steady, unable to even fake her usual sharp smile, trying to ignore the wave of panic slowly rising inside her which she'd been able to suppress whilst she was distracted with Arthur. She hated being coddled at the best of times, let alone the impossibly awful situation that this had become. It was a mark of how bad it was that Cersen had shut up too; both Lannister twins lost for words was quite the occasion.

"I'm not surprised," Tyrion smiled weakly, moving closer to her. She narrowed her eyes, but didn't detect any sarcasm there. "Jaime, I know you hate being fussed over. I promise I'm not, but you've got a look in your eyes like a cornered animal. Come out of here, to Helia and Myrcella's chambers perhaps. You can't sleep here tonight, not after this," 

He shared a look with Arthur then, that implied she couldn't sleep here because it was soon to become the scene of a violent and bloody murder.

"No," Jaime's voice sharpened. "Do you think I'd truly believe you'd keep this quiet?" She glanced at her son, then turned to her elder brother. "And do you think I'd believe you'd just let them walk off having seen that?" She laughed bitterly. "Let me tell you now brother, if one hair on their heads is harmed - if Tyrion or any of my children suddenly gets sick, or suffer a mysterious fall down the staircase, anything at all - I promise I will slit your throat myself,"

"Jaime - " Cersen started, as Tyrion laughed darkly. As horrible as he found the situation, she got the sense he was enjoying seeing her turn on her twin after so long.

"No," She turned to face him. "I don't care if Father sends me to a Motherhouse in disgrace or locks me up for killing his golden heir - if you touch my children, you will die, Cersen,"

"You'd have them spill our secrets across the whole court?" Her brother's eyes narrowed. "The Imp has always longed for a chance to bring me down, to make him heir to the Rock, and he's just been handed the key to make that happen," Tyrion scoffed but he continued. "Jaime, we could die for less," 

Jaime was silent for a moment, then turned to her younger brother. She could practically see his mind working away. Like her, he knew that Arthur would never be able to keep this quiet, and Cersen would not risk anything getting out. Let alone the fact that their brother had likely suspected for years, and had his suspicions confirmed by Ned Stark last year. Tyrion was on her side, Tyrion would think of something, he could weasel his way out of any bad situation. But can he weasel me out of this too?  Or would she have to do it herself?

"How many of my personal guards are in the hallway?"

"You need men loyal only to you, not House Lannister?" Tyrion tilted his head, considering her. "Two, I think. I was in a hurry. But I can send for some of my sellswords,"  

"Have my men guard this door," Jaime nodded, already starting to usher her son towards the door. "Tell them Lord Cersen is disturbed in the mind, after eating a bad oyster at the feast, and must not be let out under any circumstance, for his own safety. The Lady Regent commands it," She realised as she said that that it was probably best not to hint at the true cause of Stannis' death in front of Arthur, but thankfully it went right over his head. Tyrion smiled rather wickedly. 

"With pleasure,"

"Arthur, come on," She said sharply as her little brother left. Grudgingly, her son left with her, tearing his eyes away from glaring daggers at his uncle. Cersen was protesting, angrily, cursing her, saying foul things, attempting to leave, but she slammed the door shut in his face, locking it in time for the guards to arrive with Tyrion.

She didn't go to her daughter's room, not wanting to wake them, nor see her like this. Jaime ended up sat in Tyrion's chambers, still wrapped in the borrowed cloak as she sat with her little brother around the dying fire. 

Arthur had offered to fetch a maid to bring her one of Helia's dresses for her, or even one of his own shirts, but she had refused. Despite wishing he wasn't present for this conversation, she did not want to risk letting him out of her sight, knowing he would just run to Orryn immediately. Her son was currently sat as far away from them as possible, by the window, so they could talk in low voices without him hearing much.

"You've got to be joking," She shot Tyrion an unimpressed look. "You want me to stand before Tywin Lannister and tell him that his golden heir was caught trying to force himself on his twin sister," She shook his head. "He wouldn't believe it. Even if he did, I'd rather die than admit as such to anyone, especially to him,"

"He wouldn't believe it from me," Her brother said. "Nor from any of your children. It's well known we all hate him. But you? You're the only one Father would listen to," He sighed. "Likely he's looking for a chance to send Cersen back west anyway. He's doing no good here, stirring up trouble with his ridiculous paranoia about everyone and everything. There's no chance he's coming to Riverrun either, that would be as good as ripping the treaty in half. Father would much rather his heir be in the west, learning to rule at Casterly Rock. Given he's been lurking round King's Landing since the rebellion, Cersen's sixteen year old son knows the west better than he does,"

"He was Master of Laws until Robert died,"

"Why do you keep defending him?" Tyrion's lip curled. "Jaime, he tried to rape you,"

Arthur clearly heard that, as a mumbled burst of imaginative swearing came from over by the window.

"Thank you, brother," She raised an eyebrow, her tone bone dry. "I wasn't aware of that fact until you enlightened me so," Her brother opened his mouth, then closed it again, taking a breath. 

"Look at it this way," He said in a voice of forced calm. "We can't leave Cersen locked in that room forever. Realistically, we've got until morning. Arthur is also not going to stay quiet forever. No matter what we say to him, it's only a matter of time before he goes to Orryn, who will go to Father, likely with an execution warrant in hand," Tyrion lowered his voice. "Not to mention the fact that Cersen is likely plotting the deaths of both Arthur and myself as we speak. Remind me, what happened to the last child to see the two of you together?"

Jaime glared at him, saying nothing. Tyrion continued.

"You need Father's support to send Cersen away," He said. "He won't just leave if you tell him to, we both know that," 

"I'll talk to Father," She agreed. "But I'm not breathing a word of anything me and Cersen may or may not have done together. If he doesn't know the truth by now, he won't ever believe it," and her skin crawled at the thought of discussing such matters with him. "I'll tell him how I believe Cersen is undermining the Tyrell alliance, and is an unnecessary distraction for Orryn. I won't tell him to send Cersen west, because he won't want to take advice from his daughter. Let him come to that solution on his own,"

"An excellent plan, if we had more than a few hours," Her brother sighed. "Father doesn't make decisions like that on a whim. And you know Cersen, when he's desperate enough, will decide to silence your son in the blink of an eye,"

"I meant what I said," She stared into the embers of the dying fire. "If he lays a hand on my children, I'll kill him," She smiled wryly. "It would be easy enough. Pretend I don't know he did it, pretend to need him in my time of grief, let him comfort me, forgive him, tell him how sorry and foolish I was. Then slip a dagger between his ribs as he holds me,"

"I like that plan," Arthur had clearly stopped pretending he couldn't hear them. 

"Are you both missing the fact it involves you dying?" Tyrion raised an incredulous eyebrow. "And probably me as well," That was the fatal flaw, wasn't it. 

Jaime sank back into her chair, tired, examining the fresh bruises blooming on her arms and wrists. She could feel the ones on her legs too, her thighs and waist. Not to mention her chest wound burned unpleasantly from how he'd been prodding it. 

"We can't go and see him now," She said finally, realising she'd have to accept the inevitable, highly unpleasant solution. "It's the middle of the night, and I'm not even dressed,"

"Sorry to say, but that probably makes it more convincing," Tyrion grimaced, holding up his hands apologetically when she arched an eyebrow. "You know Father and his ability to deny anything he sees no proof for. If the three of us show up now, angry and shaken, you covered in fresh bruises in ripped clothes, he can hardly deny what's right in front of him,"

"I'm not walking through the castle in my undergarments," Jaime said flatly. "Arthur?" Her son's head snapped up. "If I tell you we're going to get your uncle sent back to Casterly Rock, will you be able to refrain from interrupting your brother's wedding night if I ask you to run and fetch me the biggest cloak you own?" Tyrion's, whilst thoughtfully given, was not big enough to hide her bare ankles and arms. "And the smallest pair of shoes,"

"I won't," He said begrudgingly. Within five minutes he was back, carrying a pair of boots he likely hadn't worn in two years and an ugly hunting cloak in dark green. "It was Uncle Renly's," He said. "I borrowed it, before he left," Jaime said nothing, wrapping the dead man's cloak around herself, grateful that it hid every inch of her and then some.

"Put the hood up," Tyrion said darkly. "Your neck's bruised," Of course.

Jaime's stomach twisted in knots as the three of them left Maegor's Holdfast, refusing the offer of the guards to accompany them. Her father's men admitted her at once when they saw who it was, not questioning the lateness of the visit; or rather the earliness, given it was much closer to dawn than midnight now. 

Every step up the Tower of the Hand was worse than the one before, though even she likely wasn't near as nervous as the poor man sent to wake her father up at their request. She sat in between Tyrion and Arthur as they waited in the Hand's solar, likely only for a few minutes, though it felt like hours.

"Why have you come at this hour?" Her father was fully dressed when he came through the door, though clearly rather hurriedly. The idea of him greeting them in his nightshirt was absurd. Arthur opened his mouth but Jaime shot him a sharp look, which caught her father's eye as he moved to stand behind the desk. "Jaime, take off that ridiculous cloak. It's hardly cold in here,"

"I - " She broke off, then shook her head, just lowering the hood. Her father's eyes fell to the bruises on her neck immediately. 

"How did you get those?" His tone sharpened. There was a heavy silence. Both Tyrion and Arthur looked to her. Lord Tywin looked impatient. "Well?"

"Just show him, Mother," Arthur burst out angrily. "Let him see what that bastard did," Jaime closed her eyes briefly, then opened them. How was it that she relished in the blood and chaos of a battle - one they were losing, no less - but dreaded to stand before her own father?

Slowly, carefully, she slid the cloak down her shoulders. The bruises on her skin were vivid already, unmistakably made by rough hands, not to mention the fact that she wasn't even dressed, her undergarments ripped, though she held the material together at the front. A glance at her father showed she had rarely seen him more furious. 

"What are you trying to say?" His voice was cold, steely. "Are you suggesting someone simply manhandled you, or something more grave?" Either one would mean death for most men that did such a thing; it just depended how painfully.

"Are you going to make me say it?" Jaime smiled in a weak attempt at a rueful grin. His stony silence told her everything she needed to know. "Alright. Yes, I was manhandled,"

"Manhandled?" Arthur furiously spoke. "That wasn't manhandling. I know what I saw, he was trying to rape you. He would've done, if we hadn't got in," He turned to her father. "Why make her say it? It's obvious! The late hour, the bruises, the fact she's hardly wearing anything under that cloak, do you really need it spelling out?" 

Her son was lucky that what he had said sufficiently overshadowed his impertinence. There was a heavy silence after his words. Lord Tywin wore an expression that was truly frightening.

"Who?" Her father's low voice said. "If they're not dead already, I'll have them hung, drawn and quartered," Another silence, which Tyrion broke. 

"Now we've hit the little snag," He said, choosing his words very carefully. "I'm not so sure you'll want to do that, Father," Jaime was glad he'd managed to keep any trace of amusement out of his tone.

"Was it a Tyrell man?" Lord Tywin asked, eyes narrowed. "Because regardless, that level of disrespect to the House of Lannister cannot go unpunished," 

"Not a Tyrell, no," Tyrion said. Another uneasy silence. 

"What is the matter with the lot of you?" Lord Tywin demanded, impatient. "Give me a name and I will see them dead for it,"

"You won't believe me when I tell you," Jaime spoke. 

"And why is that?" Her father asked dryly. Gods, this is awful.

"Before I give you a name," She said. "Tell me you believe that something happened. That someone did try to - " She broke off.

"Enough theatrics, Jaime. Tell me what man did this, and you can choose how he dies," That was as good as she was going to get. She sat back down, pulling the cloak back over herself. 

"He was already in my chambers when I got back from the feast," She said. "Waiting,"

"That's where we found them," Tyrion quickly added to back her up, and Arthur nodded in agreement.

"I'll have the guards in Maegor's flogged," Her father glowered. 

"They weren't lax, Father," She smiled weakly. "No doubt they let him in without any bother. After all," She took a breath. "Why would they suspect my own blood would lay a hand on me?"

Another awful silence. 

"Do you mean to tell me that a Lannister attacked you?" Her father said, clearly going through a mental list of all their family members in the city. Himself, Tyrion, Kevan, Lancel, Cersen. "You must be mistaken, unless you mean to tell me you couldn't fight off Kevan's fool of a son," Ordinarily she would have been rather amused, not only that Lord Tywin recognised that she had some martial skill, but also that he considered Lancel the only one capable of attempting such an act. Now though, she only felt resigned.

"And this is why I knew this would be hopeless," She sat back in her chair, glancing at Tyrion. "I'll just go in there and talk to him, get him to leave myself,"

"You're not going in there again!" Her brother exclaimed, turning to Lord Tywin with a sickly smile. "For context, Father, Jaime is asking to go back into her chambers where her attacker is currently locked up, alone, and hopes he'll leave the city without any pressure from you if she asks nicely enough,"

"Don't be so foolish," Her father glared at her. "Why is this man still in your chambers, and not a cell?" She laughed then, having had enough of... this. Of him.

"We thought of you, Father," She said mockingly. "It would hardly help those ugly rumours you've been trying so desperately to quell, if your own son and heir was dragged off his struggling sister by guardsmen and thrown in the dungeons," 

It felt so wrong confessing now, after a lifetime of secrecy. Jaime saw the extent of that night's events hit the man, then. It wasn't satisfying to watch in any way. The worst silence yet followed.

"Impossible," She couldn't tell if he was angry, disturbed, shocked, couldn't tell anything at all. His voice and face were blank. She would have preferred anger, anything but this cold denial.

"No, I saw it myself, I - "

"Arthur," Jaime shot her son a warning look, and he begrudgingly sat down, but glared at her father even as she turned to the man herself, leaning back in her chair in an attempt at carelessness. "I can't say I expected anything else," She smiled humourlessly. "There's only one way you'll believe me. Come to my chambers, now, and listen at the door after I go in. You'll hear enough to make your ears shrivel up with shame, and mine too, though at least then you might believe that I didn't come here just for the joy of this delightful conversation, in front of both you and my own son,"

"Ideally before either Arthur or myself has to die in a mysterious accident," Tyrion added darkly. "He's good at those. What do you think happened to Prince Lyonel? Baelish tipped Cersen off that the prince was competing - likely having talked the boy into it himself - and all our dear brother had to do was give the Mountain his instructions. I heard all that from Varys, and half from Cersen himself," Even Jaime hadn't heard all that, though her twin had all but confirmed it without using words.

"Father," She looked him right in the eye. "If neither of them had seen, believe me, you would never have heard a word of this matter,"

"You, boy," Their father spoke sharply, abruptly turning to Arthur. "Tell me exactly what you saw tonight, that leads you to believe my son would commit such a - an act," Good choice on his part, to pick the only one in the room incapable of lying.

"I was walking past with Tyrion," Her son said, thankfully calmer than he'd been all night now he had a chance to explain. "We heard a scream, from Mother's room, so ran to the door. It was dark, but there was a candle, we could still see - " He broke off, swallowing. Jaime looked away, feeling rather sick, at what her son would have seen and at the fact he was having to recount it to her stony-faced father. "It was definitely him, though," Arthur said more strongly. "Cersen. We spoke to him,"

"Thank the gods we were the first ones through the door," Tyrion said darkly. "Any guard would have seen Cersen wrestling his sister onto her back, clamping his hand on her mouth as he tried to force her legs apart. There was no doubt about what he was trying to do," Thank you, brother, for filling in those gaps in our imaginations. Her jaw clenched. There was a pause, then her father spoke.

"And did anyone else - " For once it was Lord Tywin that hesitated at Jaime's sudden vicious glare, a mark of how caught off guard by this he was. 

"No one else saw," She cut in shortly. "I believe Tyrion told them I'd seen a big spider to explain the scream. Meanwhile I was trying to stop Cersen and Arthur murdering each other, or at least to make it quiet. I told the guards Cersen wasn't in his right mind, had eaten a bad oyster, to not let him out until we return. It wasn't the best lie. He might be out by now, in which case there'll likely be assassins waiting for Tyrion in his chambers when he returns. Arthur too,"

Another silence. Each one was worse than the one before. 

"And what would you have me do?" Lord Tywin asked evenly. "Name my own son and heir a raper before the court? Send him to the Wall? Execute him?" There was the hint of a sneer there. Jaime had had enough of those for one night. 

"I hardly want him dead," She said, gathering the cloak more tightly around herself. "He's my brother. But he's not doing anything here but antagonising the Tyrell alliance, so send him west. He can play at being lord and get in the way of his wife and children instead of me and mine," Lysa would hardly thank her for that but truly Jaime couldn't care less. "And, if it helps - he is less than pleased with the Stark treaty. No doubt he's plotting something to ruin any talks of peace, trying to undermine Orryn now it's not his favourite nephew on the throne,"

"And we can't have that," Tyrion smiled humourlessly. Once again, their father was silent.

*

"Perhaps that was what settled it," She recounted to Brien, lying against his chest and idly fiddling with the buttons on his jerkin. "I wasn't expecting anything to happen after he sent us away, not truly. But Father summoned Cersen to speak with him this morning. Gods only know what was said then, but he's leaving for Casterly Rock tomorrow,"

Jaime didn't particularly care much about what her father and brother had talked about. Tyrion certainly did, bemoaning how much he longed to be a fly on the wall for that conversation, but so long as her twin left without killing any of her children, Jaime was satisfied. 

All the had court got was a nonchalant announcement that Lord Cersen was returning to oversee the recovery of the Westerlands after the war, and that was that. Nice and quiet, nothing suspicious at all, for once no whispers or rumours. She doubted even Orryn knew the truth, which she was glad for. It was bad enough having the excruciating memory of Arthur bursting in to see Cersen on top of her stuck in her head every time she saw the boy.

"He deserves the Wall," Brien grumbled, shifting slightly on his bed. "That's where all the rapers are sent. Not to rule over the richest castle in Westeros," Jaime had sparred a lot with the young knight these past days, and spent some hours in his sleeping cell as well, though nothing especially untoward had actually gone on. Well, nothing that involved actually removing her clothes at any rate. "Jaime, I'm sorry I wasn't there,"

"If you apologise for that one more time I might just stab you myself," She looked up at him where her head rested on his chest. "It doesn't matter that you weren't there. In fact, I'd rather you didn't see that. And besides, it wasn't like he got around to doing any actual raping,"

"How can you be so... uncaring about it?" The question wasn't accusing, just curious.

"It's hardly the first time he's been so forceful," She shrugged. "Only before when we'd argue, he'd try it and I'd give in happily. Much rather be fucking than fighting. This time I just happened not to. I can't hate him for that, it's how things always were," She smiled then. "I can hate him for the things he said that night, for the people he's killed and the fact that my little brother and son had to see it,"

Brien's expression told her he didn't entirely agree with her reasons for not hating Cersen for that specific offence, but he didn't say a word against it, just nodded thoughtfully. 

The next day, Jaime was the only one of the family to see her brother off, although she thought she fleetingly saw Arthur at one of the windows, likely making sure he was actually gone. These kind of expeditions normally left at dawn, but her brother hated getting up early, so now it was midday. 

She watched him go and found it remarkable how little she cared. Jaime used to embrace him in the courtyard whenever they were to be apart for any amount of time, but now a sharp smile and cold look more than sufficed, even though she got nothing but a filthy look in return.

Perhaps it was also unwise - no, it definitely was - but that night she found herself sneaking out of her own room and slipping through the corridors and staircases, until she reached the cell Brien slept in. She had been here before, of course, but never this late. There were few guards in this part of the castle, given they had no important guests in residence, and so she was able to knock three time on the door.

It was less than a second before she heard movement, and a few more before the door opened a crack. His broad, suspicious face peered at her, then blue eyes widened in recognition. 

"Jaime?"

"Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to keep a lady waiting on the threshold," She swept past him without invitation, into the small, basic but clean room, letting the hood of her cloak fall down as she did so, revealing her loose golden hair. It was longer now, almost touching her shoulders, and even curlier at this length, resembling a mane more than ever. 

"What are you here?" Brien shut the door with a click, eyeing her with some trepidation, but also the longing he wasn't so good at hiding. He wore a nightshirt and plain breeches, whilst she had never got ready for bed, still wearing the emerald green gown she'd put on that morning. 

"I thought it would be obvious?" She raised an eyebrow. "Have I scared you off? Because I can leave if you'd rather..." She reached out for the door handle, but Brien's hand reached out to grab her wrist, stopping her. Jaime smirked then, at his meaning and flushed expression both. "Does that mean you'd like me to stay?"

"Yes," He swallowed. "That is - if you're not..." He trailed off, but she got what he was trying to say. 

"I've been dealing with Cersen my whole life," She said flatly. "And he's gone now, besides. I won't let him stop me from enjoying myself. As for my reputation, by this point I care little for what others think of me. Lying with a man over ten years my junior is hardly the worst taboo I've ignored,"

"But I - I don't know what to do,"

"Like I said, you can't do worse than my wedding night," She laughed, then. "I believe Stannis actually said something along the lines of 'lets get it over with', then proceeded to glare at me the entire time. Rather off-putting, I tell you," 

He smiled then, albeit weakly. Jaime took the chance to kiss him, standing on her tiptoes and pulling the back of his head down. Thankfully he got the hint, returning the kiss hesitantly at first, but responding when she deepened it. Without breaking the kiss, she moved his hands from hanging at his sides, one to her waist, the other to the back of her neck. 

She didn't know how much time passed before she drew back slightly. It had been so long since Jaime had taken so much time with things. Her trysts with Cersen were always secret and hurried, and Stannis was hardly one for lingering kisses.

"Now for the hardest part," She murmured. "Undoing the damned laces on my dress. They're on the back, so I'm afraid you'll have to help," 

Surprisingly, he wasn't half bad at it. Nor was he half bad at anything else, especially with a little instruction.

After, they both lay on his bed, limbs tangled together, her head resting on his shoulder. She had long since lost her clothes, of course, and so her wound was on full display. It looked hideous, but he'd seen it far worse.

"Did you know," Jaime started, idly tracing circles on his chest. "You're bigger than Robert Baratheon," She tilted her head up to smirk at him, but he must have been too exhausted to flush because he just let out a breath of laughter.

"Funnily enough no, I did not,"

"Well, now you know," Her smirk turned to a grin. "What do people even do after a fuck when they don't have to leave?" For obvious reasons, Cersen had never been able to stay for long, and Stannis had either left or gone straight to sleep, not one for talking.

"I think you're asking the wrong person, my lady," He said, and she laughed. 

"Perhaps," Jaime propped herself up on an elbow. "I suppose at least now you can tell all your knightly friends they can't laugh at you for being a maid any longer,"

"And what do I say when they ask who it was?"

"Some whore," She shrugged. He shook his head with a faint smile. 

"I don't think so,"

"Well you can tell them it was the king's mother if you like, ser, but they might laugh in your face," She said, amused. "And one of my sons might overhear and be rather displeased. Not that you couldn't beat them in a fight. In fact, do say that in front of Arthur - he could do with having a few corners knocked off,"

"His face and manner is rather similar to yours, my lady,"

"Don't let that hold you back,"

"I was going to say it would make it easier," She raised an eyebrow at that, grinning even as she poked him hard in the ribs. "Ouch!" He grabbed her wrist, so she used the other to poke him again, and he grabbed that as well, sitting up to avoid her elbows. Of course, she somehow ended up straddling his lap in an attempt to get her hands free, and one thing led to another.

Jaime was amazed by how easy this was. She knew that he would likely leave with the Starks after the wedding at Riverrun provided everything went to plan - and she wasn't even going to try persuading him not to, it would be a lost cause and more than a little pathetic besides - and that her betrothal to Oberyn Martell was likely to be announced some time after that. But for now, Brien was who she came to after another deathly dull day of council meetings, who she came to when she was sick of her family, her escape and comfort in the madness of the court.

She wouldn't think about what it would be like after the wedding. Leaving Helia at Riverrun, letting Brien go to Winterfell, and stuck with a husband she didn't want. There was little and less Jaime could do about either of those things, so she would just enjoy the time she had.

Besides, once Lady Sansa turned sixteen she would be returning south to marry Arthur. It only made sense that her mother's sworn shield accompanied her. 

*

Like I said before, sorry for the changes after I published those chapters! Either way, I hope you liked this update. Finally some JaimexBrien, Orryn and Margaery's wedding and lots of Cersen drama. That conversation with Tywin was very hard to write, trying to work out how they could convince him of something he's been wilfully refusing to believe for years. I was also considering not including the attempted rape scene - given what Jaime's gone through already it felt like a bit much - but I think it was necessary to give her the kick she needed to get rid of him; obviously not saying she needed an attempted rape, I mean that more about what he said to her beforehand, and the threat he posed to Tyrion and Arthur.

Thanks to everyone who reads and comments/reviews!