EDITED 16/12/20: normally I leave notes for the end, but some parts of the chapter will not make sense unless you read the previous chapter again. Apologies for the inconvenience. 

*

Her first council meeting hadn't been so bad in truth, if only because it was worth seeing the faces of the council members and advisors as Orryn announced her new position. Jaime Baratheon, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms. 

She knew most would question her father's sanity in appointing the infamous Kingslayer to such high office - given she had never been queen herself, she was not entitled to the position despite being Orryn's mother - if they hadn't known she was to be a puppet in all but name.

Her husband-to-be, the Master of Laws, had appeared outwardly amused but she saw the calculating look in his eyes, weighing up this new information. Perhaps if she was the Regent, it wasn't such an insult to Dorne giving them the hand of an ageing widow over her maiden daughter's. 

"Lady Jaime," She stopped at the familiar accented voice calling her. That meeting had been the first time they had come across each other since she arrived back in the city, the first time she had seen him in years.

"Prince Oberyn," Jaime smiled her dazzling smile. "As much as I would love to exchange sweet nothings with my betrothed, I have things to do," 

She was on her way to meet with the Kingsguard, both to drag them over the coals for letting her son die with all seven of them present and also to give her any ideas of where to look for a scapegoat for Joffrey's death. Not to mention that Helia had let slip to her earlier that Ser Boros Blount had all but abandoned Arthur on a hunting trip in the Kingswood when they were accosted by a group of bandits. It was only her son's skill with a sword, and Ser Aredan's timely arrival, that stopped him never being heard from again. Yes, Jaime was going to have a very interesting conversation with the Sworn Brothers indeed.

"Betrothed," He scoffed slightly, showing his distaste. She didn't care, she felt much the same. "Our mothers would be pleased, at least," Jaime smiled wryly at that. She had first met the Dornish prince shortly after the death of Lady Joanna and she had liked him then, which hadn't changed when she was Elia's friend and Queen Rhaella's lady-in-waiting in King's Landing. That had been before his sister's brutal murder at the hands of her father's men, however, so who knew where they stood now.

"Our mothers are dead," She said. "Your sister too," His eyes flashed, his smile turning slightly feral. "I'm not going to have to concern myself with waking up to a knife in my chest, am I?"

"And why would I do that?" His cold smile didn't fill her with confidence. "It was my belief that you were one of Elia's closest friends. And that you were rather... occupied whilst she and her children were being murdered. No, my quarrel is with your father, and the monsters that did such a deed,"

"I can give you Clegane and Lorch," She said after a moment, her tone nonchalant though she did mean it. "I know that's not what you want, but surely that's better than nothing,"

"I have heard that the key to a happy marriage is compromise," Like you'd do anything of the sort. Instead of voicing that, Jaime just smiled.

"Quite right," She grinned then. "I suppose you're as happy about this match as I am. I'll stay out of your, ah, business, if you stay out of mine?" The Dornish prince laughed aloud, clearly catching her meaning.

"That suits me well, Kingslayer," 

It wasn't going to be a marriage either of them wanted, but it was necessary, she supposed. Might as well make it as bearable as possible. Not that she was even fucking anyone else at the moment, given how Cersen was. Not to mention her twin was likely to spontaneously combust at the news of her appointment as Regent. Jaime was rather glad her father was not going to announce her betrothal to Oberyn until things had settled down somewhat, likely after Orryn's wedding to Margaery. That made things easier. 

*

Later, Jaime sat at the desk in her solar, Aredan Sarsfield stood at her side. Six chairs were arranged in front of them, as they awaited each member of the Kingsguard. Osmund Kettleblack was the first knight to arrive, giving Jaime a rather salacious grin, as if they had known each other for years. As if we'd been fucking for years.

"Lord Commander, Lady Jaime," He nodded, glancing her up and down. "Had you looked like this t'other night, I'd have known you at once," She was all dressed up for her first council meeting, in blood red, and hadn't felt the need to change for this. Pia had picked out several of her showier pieces of jewellery, and she could feel the weight of the golden lion on the necklace around her neck, her ears heavy with rubies. On her middle finger was a gold ring set with intricately carved polished jet, which Stannis had once gifted her. 

"Would you indeed?" Jaime raised an eyebrow. When she looked in a glass, she no longer saw the woman who had crossed the Riverlands with Brien, but she did not see herself either, despite all the finery. Her face was thin and hollow, and she had lines under her eyes that she could swear were not there before. I look like some old woman.

One by one, the Kingsguard entered, muttering polite greetings, each taking a seat. The arrangement amused Jaime somewhat, reminding her somewhat of misbehaving young boys come for a scolding. Isn't that what they are?  Except instead of breaking a window or terrifying an old woman, these seven had let a king die. 

Once all of them were seated, she spoke.

"The king is dead," She began. "My son, a boy of fifteen, murdered at his own wedding feast in his own hall. All seven of you were present. All seven of you were protecting him. And yet he's dead nonetheless," She waited to see what they would say to that, but there was dead silence. The Tyrell boy is angry, Swann and Oakheart are ashamed and Ser Aredan, brave Lord Commander, is nervous. From the other three Jaime sensed only indifference. "I only hope that one of you can tell me who was it that poisoned my son?" 

Some clue as to where to look for a scapegoat would be appreciated, but Ser Balon merely shifted uncomfortably in his seat, Ser Boros made a fist and Ser Osmund gave a lazy shrug. Ser Aredan seemed to realise it was down to him to answer.

"It's hard to say, my lady, I -"

"The Imp filled Joffrey's cup with wine," Meryn Trant cut in with a scoff. "That must have been when he slipped the poison in," Must have. Well that settled the matter, then.

"You are certain it was the wine that was poisoned?"

"What else?" Boros Blount said. "The Imp emptied the dregs on the floor. Why, but to spill the wine that might have proved him guilty?" More speculation. They're blaming Tyrion because he's the convenient option. Better that than telling the grieving mother - the new Lady Regent no less - that between them they did not know who killed her son.

"The Imp was not alone on the dais," Balon Swann frowned. Finally, something of interest. "Far from it. That late in the feast, we had people standing and moving about, changing places, slipping off to the privy, servants were coming and going... the king and queen had just opened the wedding pie, every eye was on them. No one was watching the wine cup," So they truly had no idea, then.

"Who else was on the dais?" She asked.

"The king's family, the bride's family, Grand Maester Pycelle, the High Septon..." Ser Aredan answered.

"Sansa Stark was the poisoner," Loras Tyrell said, unamused. "You all forget, my sister was drinking from that chalice as well. Sansa Stark was the only person in the hall who had reason to want Margaery dead, as well as the king,"

"Sansa Stark is no more than a scared little girl alone in court," Ser Aredan protested. From what Jaime had heard, most of the abuse of the girl had occurred out of the Lord Commander's sight; Joffrey had known enough not to ask him to join in, at least. "You really believe her capable of killing a king?" There was an uncomfortable silence, where all eyes couldn't help but flicker to Jaime. She arched an eyebrow.

"From anyone else, I'd have thought that was a jape, ser," Her lip curled. Sarsfield clearly regretted the words the moment they left his mouth and gave her a small grimace of apology.

"Why did she try to run afterward, unless she was guilty?" Ser Loras cut in. The boy made sense, and Jaime would have to speak to Lady Sansa at some point, but she could hardly pin the murder on the girl who Lord Tywin planned to make Arthur's bride. She was key to securing peace with the North, after all.

"Whoever did it," She said. "Joffrey is dead, and the Iron Throne belongs to Orryn now. I mean for him to sit on it until his hair turns white and his teeth fall out. And not from poison," Jaime turned to Sarsfield with a meaningful look, hoping he did not go back on what they had discussed earlier. He smiled faintly, clearing his throat.

"Ser Boros, I have deemed it fitting for your new duties to include tasting everything his Grace eats or drinks," It had not taken much to convince the Lord Commander that that was a good idea. Jaime had asked nicely, even throwing in a few sweet smiles despite the fact she knew he'd see right through them, and clearly the man was still feeling guilty about letting her son die on his watch - another king for Ser Aredan the Unaware - for he readily agreed. Or perhaps he feels Ser Boros is getting what he deserves. 

Kettleblack laughed aloud and Tyrell smiled, but Ser Boros turned a deep beet red.

"I am no food taster! I am a knight of the Kingsguard!"

"Sad to say, you are," Jaime smiled sharply. "My sons have told me how readily you turned craven and abandoned Arthur to bandits in the Kingswood. I believe all they had to do was ask nicely," 

With his brave white shadow fled, Arthur had actually managed to hold the men off until a franticly searching Ser Aredan had pulled him out. Good for the Lord Commander; if he'd let one of the sons she liked more than Joffrey die on his watch, Jaime wasn't sure what she'd have done to him. 

"You will find carrots and pease less threatening, I hope," She continued. "When your Sworn Brothers are training in the yard with sword and shield, you may train with spoon and trencher. You look like a man who likes his food,"

"You speak to me thus? You?"

"My son is the king's brother, not to mention a child, and is therefore under your protection. You should have died before you left his side,"

"As you died standing by Aerys' side, my lady?" Ser Boros lurched to his feet, hand on the hilt of his sword. "I won't... I won't suffer this. You should be the food taster, it seems to me. What else is a wanton woman good for? Certainly not guarding the king," 

Evidently no one had told the man that she was now regent. By law at least, if not in reality, she as good as had the king's power. He'll find out soon enough, and I was never one to hide behind a title.

"I agree," Jaime just smiled, remaining seated. "I am as unfit to guard the king as you are. So draw that sword you're clearly well-practiced at fondling, and we shall see how you fare against a wanton woman," She waved down Ser Aredan, who had opened his mouth. "At the end you will be dead, and the Kingsguard will be improved," She calmly stood. 

"Or, if you prefer," Sarsfield suggested mildly. "You may return to your duties," He wasn't too bad as back up, that one.

Most men would have laughed in her face, or been offended at the audacity of a woman challenging them to a duel. Ser Boros was no exception, however he had also seen her train. 

"Bah!" The brave knight of the Kingsguard spat a glob of phlegm at Jaime's feet, glowered at the Lord Commander and walked out, his sword still in its sheath without waiting for dismissal.

The man is craven, and a good thing. Ser Boros might have actually caught her out if she stretched her wound overly much in the wrong way. But he does not know that, and neither must the rest. Jaime seated herself again and turned to Kettleblack.

"Ser Osmund. I do not know you. I find that curious. I've attended tourneys, mêlées, and battles throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and believe me when I say that I pay attention. So how is it that I have never heard of you?"

"That I couldn't say, my lady," He had a wide knowing smile on his face, as if he and Jaime were old lovers playing some jolly little game. He definitely found her amusing. He also had not seen her with a sword in her hand. "I'm a soldier, though, not no tourney knight,"

"Where had you served, before my brother found you?"

"Here and there, my lady,"

"I have never been to Here. Nor There. I will ask once more. Where have you served?"

"In the Stepstones. Some in the Disputed Lands. There's always fighting there. I rode with the Gallant Men. We fought for Lys, and some for Tyrosh," You fought for anyone who would pay you. 

"Who knighted you? How?"

"Ser Robert... Stone. On a battlefield. He's dead now, my lady,"

"To be sure," Ser Robert Stone might have been some bastard knight selling his sword in the Disputed Lands, or he might simply be a name Kettleblack cobbled together from a dead king and a castle wall. What was Cersen thinking when he gave this one a white cloak? Jaime glanced at Ser Aredan with a slightly incredulous look. He just shook his head slightly. She supposed, being a sellsword, that at least Kettleblack would know how to use a sword and shield, which put him one up on Boros Blount.

There was a pause.

"You may go, Ser Osmund," Ser Aredan said after a glance her way. Kettleblack's grin returned, and he left swaggering, with a lingering look at Jaime, which she ignored.

"Ser Meryn," She smiled at the sour knight. "I have heard it said that Joffrey made use of you to chastise Sansa Stark. Tell me, where in your vows do you swear to beat women and children?"

"I did as His Grace commanded me. We are sworn to obey,"

"Henceforth you will temper that obedience. Orryn will be a different kind of king than Joffrey I'm sure," Or I'll give him the thrashing of his life, no matter that he's nearly a man. "Just use that ugly thing you keep inside your helm. If you're asked to fetch a servant, obey. If you're asked to beat a servant bloody, come to me or the Lord Commander," She glanced to Arys Oakheart. "You too, ser,"

"Me?" The pretty man's eyes widened, horrified. "But I barely - " 

"But you did," Jaime smiled. "Perhaps you didn't enjoy it as much as dear Ser Meryn, but don't lie to yourself, at least. You can say you tried to hit her as lightly as possible, that you were only following orders, but you did it nonetheless," He opened his mouth to protest, but she looked to Sarsfield, who cut him off.

"Dismissed, both of you" As Trant and Oakheart left, Ser Arys still shaking his head indignantly, she turned to Balon Swann.

* questioning Balon Swann about his brother Ser Donnel's uncertain loyalties  - cut for length and similarity to the original *

"It's not Ser Donnel the Constant who concerns me. It's you," Jaime leaned forward. "What will you do if brave Ser Donnel gives his sword to yet another usurper, and one day comes storming into the throne room? And there you stand all in white, between your king and your blood. What will you do?"

"I... my lady, that will never happen,"

"It happened to me, and I'm not even a knight," Jaime said. "Of course, you might try to become another Ser Aredan the Unaware, but that comes with an entirely different stain on your white cloak," She smiled at the Lord Commander beside her, who actually looked close to rolling his eyes. Swann wiped his brow with the sleeve of his white tunic. "You have no answer?"

"My lady," Ser Balon drew himself up. "On my sword, on my honour, on my father's name, I swear... I shall not do as you did. Or... Ser Aredan," He glanced rather nervously at the Lord Commander, who no longer seemed to take it personally, after near sixteen years.

"Good," Jaime laughed.

"Return to your duties," Ser Aredan dismissed him, and then she was alone with the Lord Commander and the Knight of Flowers.

Lithe and fit, Loras Tyrell wore a snowy linen tunic and white wool breeches, with a gold belt around his waist and a gold rose clasping his silk cloak, brown eyes bright with insolence. He thinks this is a tourney, and his tilt has just been called.

"Seventeen and a knight of the Kingsguard," Jaime said. "You must be proud. Prince Aemon the Dragonknight was seventeen too when he was named. Did you know that?"

"Yes, my lady,"

"And did you know that I killed a king when I was seventeen?"

"That as well, my lady," He smiled. Jaime hated that smile.

"I'm better than you, Ser Loras. I doubt you believe that, given I lack a certain part between my legs, but I've seen you fight and it's the truth,"

"And yet I am called ser, where you never will be," The boy said. "My lady," She had to laugh. Tyrion would mock me unmercifully if he could hear me now, comparing the cock I don't have with this green boy.

"Lady I might be, but perhaps that comes with a tad more wisdom than a brash, arrogant boy such as yourself. You should learn from me,"

"As you learned from Arthur Dayne, Aerys Targaryen and Robert Baratheon?" The innuendo in his tone was clear. That arrow hit too close to the mark. Ser Aredan made to speak, but Jaime spoke first.

"Ser Arthur Dayne was a good man, who could have slain each one of you with his left hand while he was taking with a piss with the right. He taught me to fight, no more, no less. Robert Baratheon was a fat, whoring drunkard who could barely haul himself out of bed in the mornings by the end, whilst Aerys Targaryen was a monster. Say what you like about me, but make sure to do those men justice at least,"

"Every one of those men is dead," Came the reply. He's me, Jaime realised suddenly. All cocksure arrogance and foolish idealism. 

* more talk with Loras, Jaime asks about Renly's burial *

"I will defend King Orryn with all my strength, I swear it. I will give my life for his if need be. But I will never betray Renly, by word or deed. He was the king that should have been. He was the best of them,"

The best dressed perhaps, Jaime thought, but for once she did not say it. The arrogance had gone out of Ser Loras the moment he began to speak of Renly. He is proud and reckless and full of piss, but he is not false. Not yet.

"As you say. One more thing, and you may return to your duties,"

"Yes, my lady?"

"I still have Ser Brien of Tarth in a tower cell,"

"A black cell would be better," The boy's mouth hardened. "He deserves death. I told Renly that he had no place in the Rainbow Guard. He won the mêlée with a trick,"

"I seem to recall another knight who was fond of tricks. He once rode a mare in heat against a foe mounted on a bad-tempered stallion. What sort of trickery did Brien use?"

"He leapt..." Ser Loras flushed. "It makes no matter. He won, I grant him that. His Grace put a rainbow cloak around his shoulders. And Ser Brien killed him. Or let him die,"

"A large difference there," The difference between my crime and the shame of Aredan Sarsfield.

"He had sworn to protect him. How could anyone else have hurt him, with him inside his tent and the others just outside? Unless they were part of it,"

"There were seven of you at the wedding feast," Jaime pointed out. "How could Joffrey die, unless you were part of it?" Ser Loras drew himself up stiffly.

"There was nothing we could have done."

"Ser Brien says the same. He grieves for Renly as you do. I promise you, I never grieve for Aerys, and no matter what Ser Aredan used to bleat in front of Selmy, I doubt he does either. Brien's ugly, and pighead stubborn. But he lacks the wits to be a liar, and he is loyal past the point of sense. He swore an oath to bring me to King's Landing, and here I sit. The troubles that befell us... well, they was my doing as much as his. Considering all he did to protect me, I have no doubt that he would have fought for Renly, had there been a foe to fight. But a shadow?" Jaime shook her head. "Draw your sword, Ser Loras. Show me how you'd fight a shadow,"

"He fled," Ser Loras did not move. "Why would he, if it was not his work?" He stared at the table. "Renly gave me the van. Otherwise it would have been me helping him don his armour. We had... we had prayed together that night," Is that what you're calling it now? "I left him with Ser Brien. Ser Emmon was on guard outside, he swore Brien had... although..."

"Yes?" Jaime prompted, sensing a doubt.

"The gorget was cut through. One clean stroke, through a steel gorget. Renly's armour was the finest steel. I tried myself, and it was not possible. He's freakish strong, but even the Mountain would have needed a heavy axe. And why armour him and then cut his throat?" He gave Jaime a confused look. "If not him, though... how could it be a shadow?"

"Ask him," Jaime came to a decision. "Go to his cell, hear him out. If you are still convinced that he murdered Lord Renly, I will see that he answers for it. All I ask is that you judge him fairly, on your honour as a knight,"

"I shall," Ser Loras stood. "On my honour,"

"We are done, then?" She turned, and Ser Aredan nodded. 

The young man left, leaving Jaime wondering. The Knight of Flowers had been so mad with grief for Renly that he had cut down two of his own Sworn Brothers, but it had never occurred to Jaime to do the same with the seven who had failed Joffrey. He was my son, my first son... what am I, if I do not lift a hand to avenge mine own blood? She ought to kill Ser Boros at least, just to be rid of him.

"I need a spar," She turned to the Lord Commander. "I've had enough of politics and conversation. I've almost forgotten what it's like knocking you into the dirt,"

*

Slash. Parry. Block. Slash. Turn. And...

"Dead," Jaime called in triumph, trying to hide how out of breath she was as she handed Ser Aredan back his own sword from where she'd knocked it onto the ground. He seemed to have been practicing a lot recently, where she'd been rotting in a dungeon.

"That one was close, though," The man smiled slightly. "I almost had you several minutes ago," He was right, but Jaime just grinned lazily.

She felt better now after a satisfying sparring session than she had done since arriving at the keep. It was some small relief in all the madness, made even sweeter by the tedious morning she had had, and the fact that her wound was clearly healing nicely, as it barely troubled her at all. 

"As if," She swept loose curls of hair away from her face, irritated that it wasn't long enough to tie back yet. Not for the first time, she considered shaving it all off and having done with it. The thought of Cersen's reaction amused her. "I think becoming Lord Commander of the Kingsguard has given you a rather inflated opinion of yourself, Sarsfield,"

"If it has, my lady, I'm sure you'll correct that in a matter of hours with words alone," His tone was dry, and she laughed.

"Best believe it. Now come on, again," Jaime was itching for another round. Her ego wanted the satisfaction of an easy win to convince herself that her skills were as sharp as they always had been, whilst another, larger part of her wanted a challenge. She thought of Brien then. He's easily as good as Sarsfield, if not better.

"Very well," Ser Aredan smiled. "Though if I may; you're looking ever so slightly unbalanced. That's how I beat you last round, and you barely scraped a win out of this latest one," Her face must have faltered, as she saw a flicker of confusion - and even worse, concern - in his expression.

"Thank you for the advice, ser," Her tone was sarcastic, her face now an arrogant mask. Of course he noticed. "My skills have gone to rot in Edmure Tully's dungeon. And now I'm expected to give him my daughter," Jaime shook her head, smirking abruptly. "I suppose I'll just have to take my anger at things out on you," She moved forward, intending to strike, but paused when she saw Sarsfield's eyes were fixed on a point over her shoulder.

"Don't put that sword down," Was all he said as she turned around, to see Cersen striding across the empty courtyard towards them, his face saying everything.

Jaime cursed under her breath. She'd managed to avoid her brother all day, doubting he had heard the news of her appointment before it was announced at the council meeting he no longer had a place at, but was surprised he hadn't come rampaging to find her in her solar. Either way, he clearly knew now, judging from the expression of pure rage on his face.

"How dare you?" Jaime doubted Cersen even recognised the presence of the Lord Commander, his tone was shaking so much, fists clenched at his side. "You traitorous little bitch, scurrying about behind my back. I bet you think yourself so very clever, don't you, Jaime, but you are what you've always been, just a stupid, shallow little - "

He moved as though to grab her then, and without thinking, her blunted practice sword came up to stop him. It was an instinctive reaction to an approaching threat, and her blood was up already, so it was quick, perfectly aimed, not at all a hard blow but undoubtedly firm. Jaime almost enjoyed the look of shock on his face that she'd raised a hand to him, even in such a way as this, when normally she denied him nothing.

"I didn't do it to spite you, I did it for Tyrion," She spoke before he could. "Seeing as no one else would lift a finger to stop Father having him dragged off to the Wall. Besides, wouldn't you rather the regency was given to me, Cersen? To family, rather than just some lord?" She knew before she even said the words that he wouldn't. Of course he wouldn't.

"So that's why you took what's mine," Her brother's lip curled nastily, only hearing the mention of Tyrion and nothing else. "The Imp tricked you into believing he's innocent of murdering your son. I suppose it didn't even take much. You always were empty-headed and gullible,"

Jaime laughed, then.

"I loved you, brother, and I always will," She turned away to pull her skirts back on over her training breeches, shaking her head. "But you're ruining what was a rather enjoyable spar. Feel free to remain here in this dingy courtyard with Ser Aredan, but I'm afraid I'm going inside,"

She was just leaning her practice sword against the wall when a rough hand grabbed her shoulder. In an instant the blade was back in her grip, and Jaime was twisting around, throwing Cersen's hand off of her with a sharp rap on the knuckles and pointing the blunted blade at his throat.

The twins stared at each other for a moment, both glaring. They'd fought before, of course, largely with words. Cersen had never faced her with a sword in his hand, knowing full well he'd end up humiliated even if he refused to admit it to himself.

"You know," Her brother practically snarled. "Mother would be ashamed to see you parading around in men's clothes, playing with swords, going against your own family," He was angry enough to knock her to the floor, she knew that much, whether Ser Aredan saw him do it or not. Only the blunt sword in her hand stopped him. And wasn't that a good feeling?

"Mother would be ashamed enough at other things I've done for this not to matter too much," Jaime shrugged. "Equally, she'd be ashamed at you manhandling your sweet sister in such a way," She bared her teeth in some semblance of a grin.

It took a few seconds, but eventually with no alternative Cersen turned on his heel and stormed off without another word, steam practically coming out his ears. And you haven't even heard of my upcoming nuptials yet, brother. 

Jaime's smile dropped the moment he was gone. Her younger self would have been in tears at such a fight with her twin, and even now it still hurt, a lot, even as she tried not to show it. But she saw Cersen now much more clearly than she had done once.

"Jaime," She'd almost forgotten she wasn't alone. Sarsfield's uncommon dropping of her title had her looking up, seeing his carefully neutral face, which she was grateful for. He didn't tend to ask questions, that one. Perhaps that was how he'd made it through the reigns of two mad kings without losing his head. "There was murder in his eyes, then. Be careful,"

She opened her mouth to bite back with something sarcastic and vile, but the words wouldn't come. Jaime nodded mutely instead, accepting his advice, only for her lips to twitch faintly as Sarsfield's eyes widened in slight surprise.

"My thanks for going to such great lengths to stand up for me, ser," She said dryly. He smiled then.

"As if I needed to, when you've got a sword in your hand," That was one of the most genuinely nice things anyone had said to her in a while.

"Where were you when my father was looking for a husband for me?" Jaime sighed, then grinned at the look on his face. "Another woman might take offence to that disgusted expression,"

"I'm sure you've suffered worse," She had to laugh. 

* 

She was different to how Jaime remembered. The Sansa Stark she had met at Winterfell was a vapid little thing, full of silly dreams of valiant knights and everlasting love. The girl she met in the tower cell not too far from Tyrion's was anything but. 

"Lady Jaime," Sansa stood as she entered, setting her intricate embroidery aside and bobbing a flawless curtsey. "I am glad to see you safe. My sincere apologies for any mistreatment you suffered at the hands of my traitor brother," Her eyes only showed fear when you looked close enough. 

Everyone thinks she killed my son, she knows I've heard that, she doesn't know what I'll do. Jaime had had little to do with the Stark girl before now, aside from putting up with her doe-eyed fawning in the first few days of their stay at Winterfell, before she'd been told of the Kingslayer's reputation. Jaime didn't know Sansa and Sansa didn't know her, besides her reputation and dealings with her family. Neither of those things could have left her full of confidence for this meeting.

Despite that fear, the girl held her head high, a small show of defiance. She no longer looked at Jaime with awe, either, no longer deceived by beauty and glamour. While she still chirped the same polished courtesies, still acted the perfect lady, Jaime knew that cold, jaded look in her eyes well enough, that of a girl whose dreams and beliefs have been torn to shreds before her eyes, as she realises the world is truly a hard place to live in. 

"Lady Sansa," Jaime eyed her carefully. Still a child, only three-and-ten. But the girl who dreamed of marrying the handsome Joffrey rather than the awkward, plainer crown prince Lyonel was long gone. 

The silence stretched on. Sansa seemed more uncomfortable with every passing second, until she finally opened her mouth. 

"I didn't kill Joffrey, my lady, I swear it," Her tone held a note of pleading, imploring someone to believe her. No doubt Cersen had been in here many times and traumatised her well enough, enough for her to lose her composure now. "He was a good king, brave and true, and I loved him with all my heart," 

Jaime laughed. She couldn't help it. Sansa's eyes widened, confused and afraid. 

"That's a lie," She sat down on the only chair in the room, leaning back. Sansa hovered uneasily, remaining standing. "Joffrey was a terrible king. I'm his mother and I loved him, but most days I struggle to be sorry he's gone," The girl gasped at her cold words, but Jaime caught the tiny twitch of her lips, shocked amusement hastily hidden. "Don't think Tyrion didn't tell me the stories from before you were married. I'd have killed the man that ordered such things done to me," Her smile sharpened. "If I wasn't such a Lannister, I might apologise for my son stripping and beating a highborn hostage in front of half the court. As it is, I'll settle for thrashing each of the Kingsguard in the training yard and be done with it," 

Sansa didn't gawp - that would be unladylike - but she did stare at her for a moment or two like Jaime had just claimed pigs could fly. She sank down slowly onto the narrow bed, hands folded in her lap, not seeming to trust herself to say a word. Not trusting me with what she has to say, more like. Jaime took advantage of how caught off-guard she was, pressing forward. 

"I know Tyrion didn't kill Joff," She said, fixing the girl with a stare that was hard to look away from. She didn't know that Sansa had no part in things, though she doubted it. "I'll put this bluntly. You were caught alone, but we both know you had help to escape, you've got too much self-preservation to risk it alone. Tell me who it was, then they can be our assassin - whether they did the deed or not. My father's orders. Find a plausible culprit, then yourself and Tyrion are both declared innocent - one of you being guilty would implicate the other, I'm afraid - and are both saved from Ilyn Payne's sword," She tilted her head carefully. "No need for you to suffer the same death as your father, after all," 

To her credit, Sansa didn't flinch, or show any expression at all. In her place, Jaime would have slapped the woman who threw her father's death in her face wearing that laughing look. Either way, there was no need to mention just yet that the girl was safe from execution already, through a treaty and a betrothal to Lord Baratheon. 

"Why would you let another man take the blame when the true killer is still out there?" Sansa asked a little hesitantly. Suspicious, even. "He was your son. Lord Cersen was furious," She stopped abruptly, realising what she had just implied and giving Jaime a wary look, but she ignored it. 

"Joffrey's dead and gone, finding his killer won't change that. And I'd rather leave it a mystery than see my brother dead for a crime he didn't commit," She replied. "You just happen to be part of the deal. My father wants a scapegoat, and a scapegoat he'll get. Now tell me who it was,"

"He helped me," Sansa said softly. "He was going to get me back home. He's innocent and I don't want him to die,"

"Did my brother tell you they found your hairnet?" Jaime asked pointedly. Her silence told her he had. "It's poisoned, you know, the same poison that killed Joffrey. Who gave you that pretty piece, hm? Whoever gave it to you knew full well what it was. I wouldn't be so quick to call the man innocent. Come on, you've survived so far in this cesspool of a court - would you throw it all away to save the wretched soul who fled at the first sign of trouble, abandoning you to Cersen's guards?" 

Sansa clearly heard the threat, which, though idle, didn't sound it. Being the Kingslayer has some advantages, at least. 

"Ser Dontos Hollard," Her voice was little more than a whisper. "He gave me the hairnet, told me to wear it at the feast. He helped me escape, there was meant to be a ship waiting. He left me the moment he knew the guards were catching up with us," Her eyes narrowed slightly - what a Stark she was, to expect such loyalty without questions - and Jaime smiled. 

"Thank you," She said. Now we just have to find the man. "Now I can tell you the good news,"

"Good news?" Sansa seemed, perhaps fairly, very wary at that. 

"The new king is less inclined to war than the last," Jaime said. "He also has the positive attributes of not having murdered a Lord Paramount, and looking more like his father than his mother," She paused for a second, daring the girl to say anything to that, but she was tactfully silent. "Orryn is sending peace terms to your brother Robb; he gives up his crown in exchange for a full pardon, the crown helping him drive the Ironborn out of Winterfell, and a good few marriage proposals," 

Sansa actually smiled, a small, tentative, real smile, for what was probably the first time in months. She still looked wary, which Jaime couldn't blame her for. 

"That - that is good news, my lady," Her smile faded. "But my brother will not go home unless Arya and I are returned to him," She doesn't think we'd let her go. Jaime still believed it a foolish plan, giving back the Stark hostage whilst all but letting them have Helia for free, but it was what had been decided and she wouldn't show her doubts in front of this one. Orryn's risking a lot on Stark's blasted honour. 

"We march to Riverrun after Orryn's wedding to Margaery, where my daughter Helia will marry your uncle, Edmure," She didn't let her distaste for this idea show. "You will be returned to your family for three years. When you turn sixteen, you'll travel south to Storm's End and wed my son, Arthur. Lord Baratheon," Sansa's mouth opened slightly. Clearly this was better than she had dared hope for. 

"I - I'm to go home?" Her smile this time was more than fleeting, but she tempered it under Jaime's stare.

"For a time, yes,"

"Thank you, my lady," 

"It wasn't my decision to make," She said. "You should be thanking the king. Understand that I do not lightly give my eldest daughter over to the enemy, let alone to the man who held me in a dungeon for months," She smiled sharply. "If your brother or uncle ever deigns to break the treaty, or harm Helia in any way, or refuse to send you south again in three years, remind them that retribution will be swift, bloody and brutal,"

"Of course," Sansa nodded at once as though this was reasonable, clearly not expecting anything less. "Robb would never break his word, my lady, not ever,"

"That's good, then," She was somewhat more doubtful about that, given who the boy had married, but there was no point dragging this conversation out more than necessary. "You will be expected to testify in front of the court, I imagine," She got to her feet to leave. "Make sure you sound convincing," 

*

Word had arrived that morning from her men that Ser Dontos Hollard had been found hiding in a rather cheap brothel near the docks, having been unable to find passage on a ship after the regicide. That was suspicious in itself, something Sansa had mentioned as well, that he seemed to have expected to find a ship waiting. 

Not one, but six of the whores, including the owner of the establishment, had come to the castle to turn him in the moment they knew people were looking for him, in exchange for the promised reward. The disgraced knight was currently being retrieved by the city watch, and would soon be ready to wring a confession out of.

"Will Dontos Hollard make a believable kingslayer?" Tyrion frowned after she told him of this news, and her conversation with Sansa. 

"Why wouldn't he?" Jaime asked impatiently, pacing around his cell. "Joffrey humiliated him, threatened to kill him and made him play a fool for months. Don't tell me you wouldn't kill anyone who dressed you in motley,"

"I won't deny that," Her brother pulled a face of agreement. "But killing a king is an awful lot to risk. I don't believe for a second that Hollard had any greater part in this plot than making sure Sansa wore the hairnet, and smuggling her out,"

"Why wouldn't he risk it?" She said. "He would've gotten away with the girl if Cersen hadn't been so paranoid. He'd be free to do whatever he wanted, with a pretty highborn maiden to sweeten the pot," She saw Tyrion's face. "I'm not saying I think he was the brains behind the plot, but he's so unknown to most of Westeros that he might as well be. There's someone else behind the scenes, but finding them takes time we don't have. Do you want to get out of prison with your head on your shoulders or not? We can worry about finding the real culprit once you're free,"

"I suppose it's worth putting it to Father, at least," Tyrion sighed, rubbing his legs, no doubt stiff from where he'd been sat on the windowsill. "It couldn't hurt to get a confession out of him before you do, though,"

"I was planning to have him questioned," She said, grimacing. It was distasteful, but necessary. She would rather send a hundred Dontos Hollard's to the torture chambers than leave her little brother to rot in a cell. 

"Good," Tyrion chuckled darkly, unconcerned. "Just make sure he can stand by the end of it. We need him to make his confession in public," 

It was times like this that Jaime realised she truly was the gentle one of the family.

*

Damp, gloomy and reeking of dead men, the torture chambers were hardly Jaime's favourite place in the castle. But she felt that she might at least have the stomach to watch, given she was the one who had sent the man here in the first place. 

It was a good thing that Dontos Hollard did not take much to break - only a few bruises and a single fingernail being pulled out - spilling everything he knew, because she really did not want to spill her stomach in front of the gaoler and her guards. Blood and gore in battle was one thing, but slowly wounding a man to cause the worst pain possible was another thing entirely.

The name he gave made every eyebrow in the room raise in surprise. 

"Littlefinger gave you the poisoned hairnet?" She asked incredulously, though she supposed in some absurd way, it made sense. Petyr Baelish had always been someone she overlooked; he had no real power, after all, just some lucky minor lord who happened to be very good at counting coppers. But it was odd how he was friends with everyone, so utterly unobjectionable that he flew under everyone's focus. It only made sense that his unremarkable exterior hid a scheming, ambitious snake just like the rest of them.

"Yes," The wretched man sobbed, sagging in his chains where he was manacled to the wall. "Yes, yes, it was Baelish, he was meant to send men to meet us, take us to the docks,"

"Us?"

"Myself and Lady Sansa," He whimpered. "Please, Lady Jaime, have mercy! I know you are a gentle and decent woman at heart, no matter what people say. You'll spare me, I know it!" Do you now?

"You killed my son," Her feelings towards this pathetic worm of a man were stronger than expected, particularly if she focused on the baby Joff had once been, warm in her arms, her first child, her boy no matter what he had become. She summoned up every ounce of scorn and spite in her to fix him with a look that she intended to make him soil himself. "Give me a single reason why I should,"

"No, no I didn't kill him! I just made sure the girl wore the hairnet, that's all, I swear it," Rather  poor for a reason that might save your life, ser.

"Then who put the poison in his wine? Or the pie?"

"I don't know - " He broke off, gasping in pain as the gaoler began to squeeze the tip of his newly nailless finger with pincers. Jaime held up a hand for the man to stop, motioning for Ser Dontos to continue. He did, in shuddering breaths. "All I knew was that an assassin posing as a servant would slip the jewel into the king's wine,"

Of course Baelish hadn't put all his eggs in one basket. She stepped back. 

"Unchain this piece of filth from the wall," Ignoring the pitiful cries of gratitude from the dead man, she continued. "And send a message to my father. Lord Cersen too," Jaime forced herself to grin, turning to Hollard. "You'll confess what you've told us front of the court, and perhaps you'll get the Wall, or at least a quick death. If you refuse, I'll give you to the Mountain to do with as he pleases," The man paled even further, if possible, nodding and crying both.

As she was left in the silence of the dungeons, only a guard for company, Jaime got the nagging feeling that she hadn't got the whole story. Oh, she didn't believe Ser Dontos was holding anything back. The man was neither intelligent nor brave enough for that. But surely Baelish hadn't told him the whole plan? They still did not know what Littlefinger wanted Sansa Stark so much for. And surely he wouldn't have acted alone to poison the king. It wasn't like he was In the line of succession, nor, did she think, particularly against having a bastard on the throne.

That was all they were going to get, however, unless Baelish was brought in. Somehow she didn't that would be as easy as locating Dontos Hollard. So long as it got Tyrion out, she could accept that.

*

It took days to prepare for the public announcement, leaving Jaime in a perpetual state of restlessness, just wanting it to all be over and Tyrion to be declared innocent so they could all get on with things.

The one thing that livened up the excruciating wait was Loras Tyrell coming to her solar, rather abashed, and saying he had spoken to Brien, admitting that the man was innocent of Renly's murder. With little else to do, given Steffon and her daughters were in lessons with their maester, Arthur was training and Orryn was being king, she headed to his cell personally to deliver the news.

It was not a long climb up the tower. Brien's cell was on one of the lower levels, still high in the keep, but he clearly wasn't a particularly high priority prisoner.

"Here you are, milady," The guard unlocked the door, holding it open for her.

"Shut it behind me, but don't bother locking it," She told him. "We'll be out soon. Ser Brien is to be released today," The man nodded obediently, and she swept inside.

He was stood at the window, as ugly and awkward as ever, looking almost comically large in the small cell. It was rather like Tyrion's, basic but not uncomfortable. Leagues better than her dungeon at Riverrun. Though she doubted Brien's legs would fit in that bed without spilling over the end.

"Jaime?" His blue eyes widened to see her, the door closing behind her. "I mean, Lady Lan - Baratheon. What are you doing here?"

"Get that wounded pup look off your face, boy," She stood on her tiptoes to peer out of the small window, to an uninspiring view of a rooftop and grey sky. "If I hadn't locked you up, Loras Tyrell would have had your head, and I can't imagine many would have cared enough to stop him,"

"I can beat Loras Tyrell," That comment, given with an almost resentful tone, was the closest thing to arrogance Jaime had seen him express, and she smirked, moving back to face him.

"I don't doubt it," Brien narrowed his eyes at her dry tone, though she wasn't even being sarcastic. 

"He was here, yesterday," He said. "He asked me about Renly, so I told him the truth. Then he got quiet and just left,"

"He came to me, this morning," She shrugged. "He believes you. You're free to go," She moved towards the door when he just stood there. "Now, if you like. Unless you want to stay in this dingy little cell any longer," It took him very little time to gather his meagre belongings, all of them borrowed given the Brave Companions had no doubt taken everything he'd brought from Riverrun. 

"What did you say to him to make him believe me?" Brien's tone was incredulous as they descended the narrow stair, him right behind her. "He despises me,"

"I told him nothing of note, just to speak to you," She smirked, then. "He had to listen - I am Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, after all. It has to have some advantages,"

"Regent?" Brien sounded surprised at that. "I thought you hated politics and scheming,"

"I do," She shrugged. "It was either that or let Father banish Tyrion,"

"Oh," There was a silence, as they reached the bottom of the stair, and he moved to walk beside her. "You look..."

"Different?" She managed a half-smile. "More meat on my ribs and fewer lice in my hair, that's all. The wound's the same, though not as festering, which counts for something I suppose, even if I'm stuck wearing matron's gowns for the rest of my life, like some old septa," She picked at the high-neckline distastefully.

"That wasn't... I was about to say that it becomes you," Jaime tilted her head, considering him, the unexpected - if awkwardly given - compliment. "Being home becomes you,"

King's Landing was most definitely not her home, but she didn't correct him. Where was home? She would have said Casterly Rock, but she hadn't truly lived there since she was twelve. Storm's End perhaps, where her children were born and raised?

They spoke of little of consequence until they reached the entrance to Maegor's Holdfast. He made a noise of protest when he realised where they were headed to her chambers, but she waved him down, silencing him with the revelation that she had recently spoken to Sansa Stark.

"Come in, ser," She pushed the door open, stepping into her solar. Only when the door was shut did she look to him again. "Cersen is convinced that Sansa Stark helped Tyrion murder Joffrey,"

"No. I will not believe that gentle girl a poisoner," Brien's mouth set in a stubborn scowl.

"You'd not have believed me a murderess either had you met me aged fifteen," It was odd to consider what her younger self would have made of Ser Brien of Tarth. Or what he would've made of me. She had never been described as gentle and good, not even as a girl. Vivacious, she had heard one lord describe her as. Over-bold, arrogant and deserving of a sharp slap, another had said. 

"Lady Catelyn said that she had a loving heart," The boy insisted. "It was your brother,"

"Tyrion was due to stand trial. He's in a tower cell not far from yours, as is his wife," Brien eyed her for a moment, surprisingly shrewdly.

"You do not believe he did it,"

"See, boy?" Jaime gave him a hard smile. "We know each other too well. Tyrion's loved me since he took his first step, but he'd never follow me in kingslaying. And he'd never kill my son,"

"No," Brien insisted. "It was not my lady's daughter. It could not have been her,"

"There's the stubborn stupid boy that I remember," He reddened.

"My name is - "

"Brien of Tarth," She sighed. "When did I say that I believe the Stark girl did it? Or that I particularly cared if she did?" He was silent. "If I have my way, Tyrion and Sweet Sansa will walk free. Perhaps even straight to an annulment and sending the girl back to her mother,"

"Why would you tell me all this, if this is truly what you intend? You are betraying your father's wishes,"

"I pay my debts like every good little lion. I did promise Lady Stark her daughters... and one of them is still alive. Besides, you would be surprised at my father's wishes of late,"

"But Joffrey was your - "

"Son? Not for a while now. He was my king in the end, and a bad one. Leave it at that,"

"You think it possible that Sansa killed him. Why protect her?" Because Joff deserved to die.

"I have made kings and unmade them. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honour," Jaime smiled thinly. "Besides, us kingslayers should band together," There was a silence.

"Jaime, I - " He broke off, and they both looked up at the sound of voices coming outside the door. She recognised the voices a second before the door opened.

"Gods sake," Two small blurs ran into the room. Jaime, well used to them, moved to stand between them and Brien without thinking, intercepting the twin terrors, who barrelled into her at full speed, hard enough to make her stagger now they'd grown.

"Mother, Mother!" She caught a glimpse of Brien's wide, startled blue eyes but her attention was immediately taken elsewhere.

"How have you not been taught to knock yet?" Jaime interrupted the oncoming babble, looking down at them both, and they shrugged at the same time. She looked up, seeing an amused-looking Helia stood leaning against the door frame.

"I tried to stop them," Her eldest daughter looked about as apologetic as the youngest. Helia's sharp gaze - her own stare from blue eyes - turned to Brien and smiled her mother's dazzling smile at the young knight. Jaime had never seen her wear that smile before, and fought the urge to groan. "I don't believe we've met, ser. I'm Lady Helia, the king's sister," Her tone was sickeningly sweet, and she shot her mother a brief amused look. For gods sake.

"The Kingslayer's daughter," Jaime smiled the same smile, only twice as sickening and aimed at said daughter. Argella suddenly yanked at her skirts to show her the braids her maid had put in her hair, taking enough of her attention to let Brien reply.

"A pleasure, my lady," He looked highly uncomfortable, and not at all charmed. Evidently he'd seen enough of that smile to be wary, and rightly so. "I am Ser Brien of Tarth."

"I thought as much," Helia moved closer. "You're the brave knight that brought my mother home," The sarcasm was very faint, but there underneath the false charm. Helia didn't do charm, and even this was simply mocking, for her mother's benefit.

Jaime snorted derisively.

"He wouldn't be here if it weren't for me," She looked up at him. "How was it you were planning on climbing out of that bear pit, ser, before I dropped in?"

"Bear pit?" Her daughter's smile faltered slightly, and Jaime was about to seize on that, but Brien spoke first.

"Jaime - " He flushed slightly at the mistake. "My father had been unable to pay my ransom, so the Bloody Mummers had put me in the bear pit, with a wooden sword. Lady Jaime returned with the northmen and jumped in too. She distracted the bear, until the northmen shot it," Her eldest daughter turned to her with an incredulous look, and though Jaime felt somewhat like slapping him for telling them that much, she also felt rather smug.

"I did say the journey was eventful,"

"You jumped into a bear pit?" It wasn't Helia who spoke, but Roanna. The twins had been so uncharacteristically quiet as Brien spoke that Jaime was considering leaving them with him, even if they'd soon have him confessing to Renly's murder just to escape.

"Did you kill a bear, Mother?" Argella started.

"I thought it was knights that were meant to save maidens?"

"Not the other way round,"

"Ser Brien is as big as a bear,"

"As big as two bears,"

"He even looks like a bear,"

"Bears don't have yellow hair, stupid,"

In response to that insult, Roanna gave her sister a sharp shove, to which Argella yanked her curly hair, to which Roanna stamped on her foot.

"Stop that," Jaime grabbed Roanna's wrist, whilst Helia dragged Argella - flailing out with a kick aimed at her twin sister - backwards. "If you want to behave like street urchins I'll leave you both out in Flea Bottom for the day, see how you like that," Quarrel forgotten, both twins both turned to her at once, eyes wide and hopeful. 

"That would be an adventure, Mother,"

"Gods sake," Jaime let go of Roanna's wrist in exasperation, turning past a laughing Helia to glance behind her, only to take one look at Brien's stunned, open-mouthed, slightly panicked expression and burst out laughing. "Aren't they precious?" She said sarcastically. "And you thought I was a pain in th - annoying," Of all things, that was what made the knight smile suddenly. She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"All those curses and insults through the Riverlands," He said. "It's strange, that's all... seeing you hold it all back," Helia clearly saw the funny side as she laughed. Jaime grinned a little grudgingly at how surprised he still looked by her. She realised that whilst Brien had seen near every side of her at some point since they'd met, he hadn't ever seen her as a mother. No doubt that was unnerving enough.

"Mother," Argella spoke then in that irritating wheedling voice. "Can we go to see Arthur in the yard?"

"Septa Eglantine wouldn't let us,"

"Please Mother,"

"Fine, if it means I'll be rid of you," Jaime said. "Go and tell the septa, get a guard to take you," The twins ran out eagerly.

"From what I've heard, appeasement isn't the best strategy in war," Helia said with a straight face.

"It is when it makes them not mine to deal with," She shrugged, making her daughter snort.

"You birthed them, they'll always be yours to deal with,"

"More's the pity," Jaime was then reminded of something that had been on her mind since she arrived back, and probably should have asked about sooner. "Where is Princess Cassana? I have heard nothing of her. She clearly isn't here,"

"Storm's End," Her daughter replied. "We left her there when we came here for the wedding. It seemed the safest thing to do, given how there were whispers from those that hated Joffrey that Robert's daughter should be queen, rather than his nephew. Not that I disagreed that a five year old could do a better job, but I suppose we had wars enough to deal with, let alone another one within the family,"

"Yes, perhaps not,"So long as the girl's safe. "How was she, before you left?"

"Safe, happy and being led astray by the little twins," Helia said. "She seems to have taken a shine to Steffon, though. I believe he was teaching her to read, before," 

"That would tidy things up a little, if the girl could become a maester," She shook her head. "You'd best follow your sisters. I'd bet my right hand that they haven't found a guard, and aren't going to see Arthur either,"

"You're probably right," Her daughter said. "I'll check Flea Bottom first," As she left after the twins, she smiled at Jaime rather slyly, with a pointed look and merry wave of farewell to Brien, who was frowning.

"It's strange, seeing you with them," He said once the door was shut.

"Am I so different around them?" Jaime grinned. "Aside from not cursing like a sellsword - like I usually do, according to you - that is?"

"You're not," He smiled faintly. "That's the strange thing. You don't hide yourself around them,"

"You think I should?"

"No!" He shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that. Just... I always knew you had children, but - " He broke off.

"Never pictured me as a mother?" She suggested, and Brien nodded a little sheepishly. "I'm not much of one, in truth. Running off and leaving them alone for a year at the first chance I get,"

"They don't seem to mind," He pointed out. "Your daughter, Lady Helia... She seems to be a lot like you,"

"She was exaggerating for your benefit," Jaime said. "She's not normally so... flamboyant, but I'll admit she has my sharp tongue," She smirked then. "Why do you say that? Did you think her pretty?"

"What? No, of course not, I - " She laughed as he blustered.

"That's rather rude, ser, calling a young girl ugly to her mother's face,"

"You know what I meant," Brien scowled at her. "I wasn't looking to see if she was pretty or not," Any other man and she would have laughed in their face at that. "You know I wasn't, or you wouldn't be laughing now,"

"I'll give you that, boy. If it's any consolation," Jaime patted his arm mockingly. "I believe the little twins scared you more than darling Helia,"

"They certainly seem to have your lack of care for rules,"

"And getting into ill-advised confrontations," She said dryly. "Though even I wasn't that bad as a child," 

"Did you and your brother never fight?"

"Not often," She considered that, thinking back. "Most of the time it was just playing," 

Which had gone too far, far too early, now she thought about it. It made her slightly nauseous thinking of her son Steffon doing some of the things she and Cersen had done at that age and younger. Even when we were of an age with Argella and Roanna, when two children sharing a bed should be a completely innocent thing. 

"But when we fought for real, I always won," Jaime laughed. "This was as children, though, when we were both the same size and the only difference between us was that I spent time training with a sword and he did not," 

"Can Lord Cersen not use a sword?" Brien asked, surprised. There was an odd note to his tone, that made her eyes search his face for something she wasn't sure was there. 

"He can," She said. "He doesn't enjoy it. He's good enough, I suppose - all those hours Father forced him to train as a boy, he'd have to be - and he'd survive a battle. Not that he'd ever be in the middle of one. Nothing, special though," Ah, there it was. Her eyes lit up as she found what she'd been looking for. Scorn. Faint, but there. "Not to worry, ser," Jaime said, smirking none too subtly. "Your swordplay is leagues better than my brother's,"

It was a sign that he'd spent a lot of time in her company that it only took him a moment of brow-furrowing to work out why she looked so amused by that. An even greater sign that, for a fleeting moment, his lips twitched before returning to a grimace.

"Did you have to put it like that?" 

"You make it too easy, boy," She said, grinning. "Spend enough time in my son Arthur's company and you'll soon learn to watch your tongue. I'd say there has never been a Lord Baratheon who delighted more in crude jests, except Robert was lord before he was king. At least my son has the excuse of being thirteen, rather than thirty,"

"It doesn't sound like there's much of Stannis in him, then,"

"Careful," Jaime warned. "I've found it's unwise to make such statements concerning my children, especially now people take talk like that rather more seriously than they did before,"

"I thought you said the other six were clearly Baratheon?"

"Yes, but people wonder which one," She sighed dramatically, and his eyes widened in realisation. 

"They surely don't believe that you and - and King Robert..?"

"Some of them believe me and Ned Stark," She said. "Others believe me and Rhaegar Targaryen. I've even heard a shocking rumour that I laid with my own brother," She pulled a disgusted face, deliberately waiting for Brien to look confused before continuing. "Why do you look like that, boy? I'm talking about Tyrion,"

"You're insufferable," He shook his head, but smiled nonetheless.

"That shouldn't be a surprise," Jaime said, smile sharpening. "Speaking of insufferable, I'm sure you recall the last time we fought. I'd rather like to even the score. If you're not too weak from your dreadful imprisonment,"

"Goading me won't work," Brien shook his head. 

"It doesn't have to. You can't tell me you're not dying to spar with me now I'm not in chains and half a skeleton,"

"No," He said. "I suppose I can't,"

As they headed down to her training yard, her tourney sword and breeches in hand, it struck her that she had neglected to tell him of her recent betrothal. Why that was of note, Jaime wasn't sure. There's no need, not just yet. It wasn't like it was any of Brien's business, after all.

*

All text from A Storm of Swords is property of George RR Martin.

It's been a long time since the last update on this, I know; issues with the timeline made me hold back posting this one as I had to shuffle a few scenes around. I've got the next few chapters outlined though so the next should be up sooner. 

I know some readers are unhappy with Myrcella's betrothal to Dorne. Respectfully, that isn't really the main focus of this story. I see where you're coming from saying it doesn't make too much sense and when I go back to edit I may take it out, but it really isn't that important here and I doubt it will get another mention in following chapters.

As usual, feedback is very welcome. Thanks to all those readers that have reviewed/commented already. Do you still feel like the characters are in character now I've mostly moved away from the outline of the books? Please let me know if not.