They walked together in the cold winter morning, mist in the air and frost on the ground, the golden young Kingsguard in his white cloak and the tall, thin lady in a grey gown. An odd pair, he admitted it himself. Since the morning in the yard, Jaime had been seeing more of the Stark girl. Somehow, she was the best company in this wretched place.

Ross suited this weather, and looked more at home out here in the frozen Godswood than she ever had in the Red Keep. He thought she would like it out here; they both needed it that morning. For Jaime, it had just been a shit end to a shit night standing guard outside the Queen's chambers whilst the King brutally assaulted her. For Ross, she had been dragged out of bed at dawn to witness yet another burning. He'd seen the dread in her eyes as he escorted her from her chambers, and as he led her out of the hall again afterwards he had felt her shaking under his arm ever so slightly. She was only fifteen, after all. It was easy to forget. He himself was less than a year her senior. He felt decades older than sixteen, after only a few months in King's Landing.

Not that any vulnerability showed in front of the King. Despite Aerys taking great joy in belittling her in front of the court - anything from her looks to her family to her faith in the Old Gods - her stony mask had remained the whole time. A living statue.

"No," Ross said to his question. "Not a chance,"

"I saw you dance with your brother and sister at Harrenhal," Jaime grinned.

"They dragged me up there,"

She seemed calmer already, having come out here. The bitingly cold air felt fresh and cleansing after the stifling heat, choking smoke and putrid stench of burnt flesh, which still lingered in the throne room even when there wasn't a pyre burning.

Jaime himself was suddenly in a much lighter mood. "Oh, is that all it takes?" He made a lunge for her, laughing as she dodged out of the way.

"I'm not dancing for you, you fool," She insisted, though bit back a smile as he advanced towards her, backing away.

"With me, Ross, with me. Many a beautiful maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would kill for such an invitation from me," He didn't think she was used to men like him asking her to dance. Or anyone, really; she wasn't exactly the type to inspire admirers, with her stiff manner and sharp tongue, which many would find intimidating.

"Do you hear yourself?" She shook her head, entirely unimpressed. "Gods, you Lannisters are arrogant. I'd kill to get you to leave me alone,"

He had to laugh. "It's alright if you're an awful dancer, Ross, you don't have to be bashful. I'm good enough for both of us,"

"Seven hells,"

He lunged at her mockingly, laughing as she leapt back.

"No, don't you dare," She tried to escape again, but this time he grabbed her easily by both forearms, as she struggled. "Surely this counts as harrassing a lady. Jaime!"

His name sounded strangely endearing in her northern accent.

"Let yourself go for once," He said, spinning her round in a circle several times, made clumsy by her unwillingness to move, and her muttered curses. "Gods, you're stubborn,"

A wicked glint in his eye, he suddenly grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her in the air and spinning her round. He got the pleasure of hearing her give a highly uncharacteristic shriek as her feet left the ground, and after three full turns set her down, grinning as she stumbled against him from dizziness.

"Steady there, Lady Stark,"

"Don't do that,"

He wasn't expecting her to turn right around and shove him so hard he staggered, catching him off guard before another shove pushed him clean over. Before he fell, out of instinct he grabbed at her again, pulling her down with him into an ungainly heap. They both lay there for a moment in a stunned silence, before Jaime started laughing.

"Do you laugh at everything?" She said, disgruntled, sitting up and rubbing her sharp elbow, which had dug into his side.

Jaime made no move to get up. "I used to," Now I only laugh with you.

He stopped laughing. Where had that thought come from? Jaime had only ever found himself attracted to his twin sister, despite countless others all but throwing themselves at him. He could have had any number of serving girls and lowborn women who showed an interest - most men in his position would - but they all paled in comparison to Cersei. The longer he spent in the Red Keep, the more time he spent around Mad Aerys, the less he laughed. But around Ross he felt more like his old self. Both of them knew the horror that lived in this castle, and called itself King. And it was rare enough that anyone could match his sharp tongue. Still, though...

It's only because I've been away from Cersei so long, he thought. The Stark girl amuses me, that's all.

"Your elbows are like spears. And where did you learn to push so hard? I'm surprised those skinny arms of yours didn't snap,"

"I've got three brothers, and a sister who's worse than all of them combined," Was her explanation as she got to her feet and brushed the snow off her dress with what dignity she had left. "All as irritating as you," A pause. "You are a terrible dancer,"

*

The letter reached him unopened; all Lannister letters were, Grand Maester Pycelle was loyal to Tywin to a fault. Jaime instantly recognised Giana's loopy, girlish writing. He opened it, always glad to hear news of home, however was in for a nasty shock.

Dear Jaime,

Brother, I have done a stupid, stupid thing. I have no one to turn to but you. I am with child.

He reread that several times, thinking he was mistaken. He had never been the best at reading, after all, and for the first time he hoped his eyes were deceiving him. No, he had read it correctly. Gods Giana... His sweet little sister, pregnant. Heart sinking, fury rising as he started to plan the death of the man who did it, he read on.

Please don't be angry. I am begging you, before you do anything rash, just hear me out. I don't want anyone else to find out. Lady Rosennis Stark knows already -

What? Ross knew before he did, and hadn't said a word?

- she saw me leaving his tent at the Harrenhal tourney, and said she was going to give me a month to tell Father, or else she would. Well, that month is more than up and I can only assume she is not allowed to send letters in the Red Keep, for there has been no word from the Starks and no sign that Father knows. She wants to get her sister out of her unwanted betrothal, for it was Robert Baratheon I spent the night with.

Jaime gritted his teeth. Of all the people it could have been, she had to choose the Lord Paramount who was already betrothed to the daughter of yet another Lord Paramount. And apparently Ross was scheming in the background, trying to sacrifice Giana's happiness for her own sister's.

Father would force tansy tea down my throat no matter how far along I was and would watch to make sure every bit of my child bled out onto the floor. Please, Jaime, for my sake and my baby's, your niece or nephew, don't say a word. Yes, I know what you're thinking. Save me your criticisms brother, I hear them in my head every waking moment. I was stupid. Father will be absolutely furious, and Baratheon doesn't spare a second thought for any girl he's with. I didn't care that he didn't care at first, but now, for obvious reasons, I'm starting to reconsider.

Jaime, I'm scared.

His sister never admitted weakness. She was much like Cersei in that regard. A Lannister, no matter how different he was to the rest of them. For her to say that, she must truly be terrified.

I'm so scared I can't keep my hand from shaking as I write this. I'm four-and-ten. That's too young to birth a healthy child and live, everyone agrees. What if the birth goes wrong? I can't tell anyone, the Maester would go straight to Father, and anyone in Lannisport would recognise me. Mother died birthing Tyrion, and she was a woman grown, with the finest Maesters and midwives in the land to attend her. I'm all on my own. And Tyrion was a dwarf - I don't know if you've noticed but the Baratheons are huge. I'm sorry, I know this is doing nothing but worry you, but I've got to tell someone even if it won't do any use.

Father's going to notice at some point. I'm showing, but it's not obvious yet unless you look closely. I've been pretending to be getting fat, which Cersei is delighted about. If I can keep it hidden until the babe is actually born then it won't matter. Father can't kill a newborn. Even if he sends it away somewhere, at least it'll live. Maybe it can be a servant here, or go to the Citadel to be a maester. Then I'll deal with whatever consequences, or I'll be dead, and it won't matter.

If his sister died from this, gods help Robert Baratheon. Nothing on this earth would stop Jaime from hunting the man down and putting a sword through his heart.

Please, could you talk to Rosennis Stark and ease my fears of her telling anyone?

Your loving sister,
Giana

The letter looked unfinished. It wasn't like her to end so bluntly. Jaime sank down onto his bed with his head in his hands. Giana, what have you done? This was bad, very bad. Why didn't she find some moon tea afterwards, then no one would be any the wiser? Cersei had been using it since they were twelve. But Giana wouldn't have thought of that, too caught up in the moment to worry.

Or perhaps she did remember, but was too kind. Was the thought of killing even the trace of a child something she was unwilling to face doing? He wouldn't put it past her, no matter what she said. Sometimes he himself wondered how many of his and Cersei's children had been killed over the last few years, but shook the thought off. The idea of a child that was half him and half his sister wasn't something he wanted to think about.

*

"You knew about Giana," Jaime didn't mince words, having asked the Stark girl to accompany him to the Godswood, where they could talk in relative privacy. "At Harrenhal,"

Ross was instantly on guard. "She told you?"

"She had to," He smiled without humour. "She's with child," He didn't give her time to react to that with anything more than a muttered curse. "She also said that you were blackmailing her,"

"She's being dramatic," Ross said, indifferent to his accusatory tone. "Wouldn't she prefer to be Lady Baratheon, rather than disgraced with a Baratheon bastard? Besides, I didn't have the chance to tell anyone, did I? I'm forbidden from writing letters,"

"You knew for half a day you were being sent here. Surely you told someone in your family?"

She looked him in the eye, unflinching. "I told Lyanna, so she could do with it what she wanted. She must have chosen to keep it to herself, for whatever reason, because believe me, if my father or brothers knew then the whole kingdom would. The betrothal would have been broken for the insult and Lord Stark would be out for blood. Robert is a fool - he could have had any lowborn girl, which no one would bat an eyelid at, but he had to have the daughter of Tywin Lannister,"

This was not the ironclad promise of secrecy he had hoped for. The life of his sister's unborn child now relied on the whims of a young girl who was the future wife of the father of said child. He couldn't write to Lyanna Stark demanding her silence, either, because who's to say their Maester didn't read their letters first?

"Why couldn't you have just minded your business and kept quiet?" Jaime snapped, realising he was looming over her somewhat but not stepping back.

"Because my sister's happiness is very much my business," She snarled back in his face, not cowed by his anger. Quite the opposite, in fact. "I do not want Lyanna wasting away, miserable and frustrated, as some lecherous lord's dull little wife. My sister is remarkable. She jousted at the Harrenhal tourney, she wants to travel the world, she's brave and wild and fiery - why would I not take any chance I get to make sure that fire doesn't get put out by a moronic, unworthy man?"

Jaime opened his mouth to tell her that they all had responsibilities and duties that bound them, then realised he was going to sound just like his father, so did not say any of it. He did feel for Lyanna Stark, and any woman with such dreams that would undoubtedly be crushed by marriage, and quite honestly wanted to ask what in hells Ross meant by 'she jousted at the Harrenhal tourney', but his anger over Giana outweighed all of that.

"You take care of your sister," Was all he said, jabbing a finger at her chest. "And I'll take care of mine. You'd better not tell a soul about Giana until that baby is born and the secret is out, and hope that your sister Lyanna doesn't either,"

"And how would I tell anyone who mattered, Lannister?" She said, with such disdain that his blood boiled, her lack of height compared to him not mattering one bit. "When I have no contact with anyone outside of this bloody castle? Save your threats for someone who believes them,"

He grabbed her wrist in his anger. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to protect my family,"

She wrenched her wrist away with a strength he had not foreseen, and unwilling to break her arm, he let go. They had gotten close while arguing, which Jaime only realised once she moved back.

"What are you going to do, kill me in my sleep, like the honourable Kingsguard knight you are?" She scoffed. "Or challenge a woman to a public duel? Do not grab me like that again, Ser Jaime, or I really will tell the court about your sister's bastard,"

She left without waiting for whatever furious response he could come up with to that, and they did not speak for days.

Despite their argument, he still felt for her when she was forced to stand before the entire court as Aerys berated her for the Crown Prince kidnapping Lyanna Stark. This was the first most of them had heard of the news; certainly the first time that Ross had heard it. Her mask truly did falter when the King threw it in her face in public, and Jaime remembered her impassioned defence of her sister. She cared deeply for Lyanna, enough to blackmail a Lannister; he knew that if this had happened to Cersei, he would not have been able to control himself.

"Your whore of a sister has seduced my treacherous son and led him further astray," Aerys was raving mad, the court stood in shocked silence, Ross alone in the middle of the room. "Does every Stark bitch open her legs for the first man to ask? Did you lay with my son as well, beg him to overlook that face of yours?"

And this was the man Jaime was supposed to protect with his life. Ross, as ever, was silent, her eyes empty.

He found her, afterwards, kneeling before the Heart Tree in the Godswood. Their previous argument seemed ridiculous now. It wasn't even worth addressing the hateful things the King had said.

"They'll get her back," Was all he said. "Or, from what you've told me, I wouldn't be surprised if she escaped herself,"

Ross turned and looked up at him. "I could kill Rhaegar Targaryen for what he's done,"

Her words were shocking enough that Jaime glanced over his shoulder, alarmed. The Godswood may be the one place where Varys' reach struggled to extend - short of hiding behind a tree, there was little his spies could do to conceal themselves here - but saying such a thing was enough to put them both on a pyre. She meant it, too.

"Gods, Stark, could you be any less subtle if you tried?"

She shrugged, turning back to the tree. "I can't stop thinking about what she's going through at this very minute. And that makes me furious enough that I cannot think of anything else,"

Jaime, slightly hesitant for once because that carved tree - though not even a real weirwood - was unnerving, came to kneel beside her. "Likely within the week, things will be much clearer. Your father will be in correspondence with those at court as we speak, Rhaegar will be ordered back, and your sister will be returned. It may be a misunderstanding, who knows - she may have left of her own accord,"

"She wouldn't," Ross said with conviction. "I saw the look on her face when he gave her that crown. Thank you for trying, but it will not be as easy as all that,"

*

Jaime wasn't there the first time it happened. Part of him wished he had been, though the more realistic side was glad he was not, for what could he have done to fix it? Absolutely nothing, without ending up on a pyre.

It was the day after Brandon Stark had arrived at the Red Keep, yelling for Rhaegar to come out and die. It turned out that yes, Ross could have been less subtle. Of course, the fool had been imprisoned immediately, along with his friends he'd brought along to suffer with him. Ross had come running out just in time to see her eldest brother being dragged to the cells. In that moment, the look in the two siblings' eyes had been identical, bloodthirsty, vicious and wild.

Jaime still loathed - an understatement, really - standing outside the Queen's door, guarding her husband as he brutalised her, but he did it nonetheless, no matter how much he wanted to burst through those doors and tear that vile old man off his mother's former friend. We protect the King, Jonothor Darry had told him sternly, looking down on him with those disapproving eyes even though Jaime was an inch taller. We do not judge him. And that was said by a man who was meant to be one of the truest knights in the realm.

Jaime was leaving the White Sword Tower when he saw Barristan Selmy trudge into the tower, face twisted in a rare moment of what looked like self-loathing. He had raised an eyebrow, and though the moment Selmy saw him he schooled his face back to its normal dutiful expression, both of them knew he had noticed. Neither said a word, continuing on their ways, but it raised Jaime's suspicions.

He became even more convinced something was wrong when he noticed Darry and Lord Commander Hightower muttering to each other in a hallway, stopping abruptly as he approached. It was only when he came across Oswell Whent and Lewyn Martell talking on the staircase that he discovered the truth.

"... have you seen the look in the boy's eyes when the King visits the Queen?" Whent was saying in a dark tone. Neither man noticed him. "There's something unsettling there. He's young, reckless and one straw away from snapping, no matter what grins and smirks he plasters on his face, and we trust him with keeping it together through this?"

"You shouldn't call him boy," Martell said absently, sounding as mild-mannered as ever. "Not after what he's seen, or what he's stood through,"

"Hm. Perhaps," Whent gave a grunt of grim amusement. "Hardly the point though, Lew. The girl's his friend, and you know what boys - alright, men his age are like when it comes to women," Jaime froze. "Do you really think he'll stand outside that door and say 'yes, Your Grace, a pleasure to serve' if it happens again?"

A nasty, cold feeling was growing in the pit Jaime's stomach, though his head was roaring.

"I think you underestimate Jaime Lannister," Martell said. "He's done better than any other his age would, no matter what look you think you see in his eye," He paused. "Although I think we should be sure to put him on duty with you, Ser Arthur or myself in the future. For all I'm sure he respects our fellow sworn brothers, he isn't a man who responds well to simple blank-faced duty without reason,"

"Well that evident from the fact that he's here, and not Casterly Rock," Whent snorted, then held up his hands. "Fine, fine. I trust your judgement, I'll not say anything to our dear Lord Commander," There was a moment's silence. "Though maybe it would be worth it just so the boy doesn't have to hear - "

"He's not a boy," Martell said again, voice equal parts hard and sad. "He will do his duty. He'll have to, at some point, regardless of what we do now. And besides," He sighed. "It's not like Rhaella. The poor girl barely made a sound,"

Jaime, in an uncharacteristic display of clumsiness, dropped the plate he was carrying. The pewter clashed and clattered down the staircase, ending up at Whent's feet, who had a hand on his sword hilt at the sudden noise. Both knights looked up, as Jaime walked down to join them, expression one of forced calm.

"Did I hear that correctly?" His voice seemed distant, as did the smirk he felt his lips twist into. "Aerys has got bored with his Queen?"

It was a credit to all of them that no one mentioned his clear show of eavesdropping.

"His Grace," Martell said, as a warning not a reproach. "I am... sorry, Ser Jaime, I really am - "

"But you stood outside the door regardless?" There was a slight mocking note to his tone now, and he knew he should shut his mouth before he said something stupid. He didn't, of course.

"It's our duty," Whent said harshly, but Jaime knew it was meant, like Martell's, as a warning not to let any of the other Kingsguard hear him talking like that. Perhaps it was a hint defensive, too, he noted. Interesting, but ultimately useless.

"Of all the ladies in court, he chose the one with a tongue like acid and a face like vinegar," It started out as a jape, to serve what purpose he didn't know, but embarrassingly his voice caught on the last few words, and its true intention - why her? - came through loud and clear.

There was a short silence. Fuck it. Fuck it all.

"Did she look - Was she - were there any injuries?" He sounded like a fool, and almost winced at his words, but Martell just eyed him with sadness. Even Whent was devoid of his usual dark humour.

"You've seen the Queen," Was all the knight said, blunt as ever, but at least he was honest.

Jaime stared at him for a moment, then at Martell. He couldn't think of anything to say. "Excuse me," He said finally, shouldering through them both, astonished that he hadn't lost his temper yet. Why, I'm practically dead inside.

She was in the Godswood again, as he had suspected, on her knees before the heart tree. As was her usual custom, she wore a dark coloured gown, but this one was higher-cut than normal, up to her neck. That didn't conceal the raw set of fingernail scrapes down the side of her face, and her swollen lips. Her hair was loose, however, dark and glossy. She'd cleaned up, he realised. There were no traces of dried blood anywhere, her hair was brushed, and when she got to her feet he saw her nails were - though cracked and torn - tidied up as well as they could be.

"Do you think it would be treason to let your wolfblooded brother out and give him free run of the keep?" Jaime said. "Perhaps not. It's a big place, he'd get himself lost,"

She just shrugged. "I'd give him directions to the King's rooms," There was a silence. "Promise me," He looked at her, and she was staring right at him, eyes grey and intense. Icy and burning at the same time. Steel. "Promise me that when it's your turn to stand outside that door, you'll just stand there. That you'll just bite your tongue, keep your sword where it should be and do your duty," She spat the word out, but her resolve didn't waver.

"I - " He broke off. "Ross, surely - "

"No," The steel gaze was still there. "I want a promise, now," She glanced away for the briefest of seconds. "If he burns you too, who else have I got?"

That was a good point he hadn't considered.

"Well if my very presence keeps you from throwing yourself off Maegor's," He started, and she rolled her eyes, the faint hint of a smile playing at her lips. "Fine. I promise,"

She nodded, once.

They both stood there, unsure of what to do. If she'd been Cersei or Giana or even Tyrion, he would've embraced her then, but surely that was the last thing she wanted after... He stopped that train of thought before it started.

"Are you alright?" He almost winced at how pathetic that sounded. Of course she wasn't. If he was a woman, he'd rather die that go through what she had, and he sounded like a fool for asking.

"I will be," She said, not quite smiling, but the look in her eyes and the set of her mouth told him that she would be alright the day Aerys died a long and painful death.

One day that wish - Aerys dying, at least - would surely become a reality. It was whether either of them would be around to see it that was in question.

*

Edited August 2024. I absolutely hate the way I described sexual assault before which is one of the main reasons I wanted to edit these first chapters before completing the rest of the edit. 

The drawing above is not mine (all credits to the artist) and is meant to be of Jaime and Lyanna but it fits this story quite well I thought.