"Why did you kill Aerys Targaryen?" Jaime raised his eyebrow at his wife, having been halfway through taking a long, needed swig of water after coming in from training all morning. He made a point of ignoring her, finishing his drink - for longer than necessary - before turning to face her. She stood with her arms folded, unimpressed at his pettiness. Like she wasn't just as bad. She was a mother of three, soon to be four, and yet the previous day she had thrown her sewing at him in a fit of petulant rage; he'd pointed out that she would scold Tya for acting like that, and laughed when she scowled, so he wasn't much better.

Needless to say, Lyanna hated being pregnant again, and acted like it was all Jaime's fault. It takes two, little wife, it takes two. And I didn't hear you complaining at the time.

"Ask your brother," He didn't want to explain himself, not now and not to her. They'd been married three years without this matter being discussed, and Jaime fully intended for it to stay that way.

"I don't need Ned to tell me to know you're a glory-seeking, arrogant arse," Lyanna said, in typical delicate fashion. "Again," Jaime smirked.

"You forgot oathbreaking, traitorous cunt who deserves to rot at the Wall," Lyanna snorted.

"Don't be unfair," She said. "Ned has never called you a cunt," Despite himself, he laughed, heading back inside. Of course she went with him. She was irritating like that.

"Why are you here, anyway?" He asked, nodding to the servants who muttered 'milord' and 'milady' as they passed. "I know you're not welcome back in the sewing circle after your tantrum yesterday, congratulations on that,"

"It was a mutual agreement," Lyanna shrugged. "Dorna thought it best for everyone. Apparently I scared that visiting Marbrand girl, Darlessa's niece. I'm glad, I despise sewing,"

"Only now you've realised there's nothing else to do, hence why you're trailing after me like a lost pup," She glared at him, a look which anyone else would've stepped back from. Jaime just grinned, knowing he was right.

"You still didn't answer my question," He stopped in the empty corridor and turned to face her, making sure to use his own height and her lack of it to his full advantage and look down at her.

"I'll answer that question when you tell me what you've been hiding about Rhaegar Targaryen," Because she was hiding something, he knew that much. Things weren't quite right about the story she offered. Jaime didn't even particularly want to know, but it served its purpose. Lyanna seemed taken aback by his rather sly move.

"Fuck you," She soon recovered. He smiled grimly as they began to walk again. "I'd have expected that from Cersei, or even Tyrion. Not you,"

"I'm not as lackwitted as my sweet sister likes to think,"

"No," Lyanna frowned slightly, even though he meant it in jest. "I don't think you are," At her rather odd comment - which noticeably lacked any of her usual bite - he took the chance whilst she was distracted to change the subject.

"Where are the twins?"

"Lorcan's with your brother," She said. "Tyrion seems to think he's teaching him to read already. The child's only two, I told him it was impossible,"

"Tyrion learnt at three," Jaime shrugged, although he had to admit his brother was a rarity.

"What about you?" Lyanna grinned. She knew that he didn't enjoy reading, and often liked to point out that his handwriting and understanding of grammar was scarcely better than a child's.

"Ten, maybe eleven," He said with a grin, and she laughed loudly. "I think it's safe to say I spent more time in the practice yard than with the Maester. Father made me learn in the end, he taught me himself. Which was... pleasant," He pulled a face. Lyanna was silent for a moment.

"I used to be afraid of horses," She said, and he looked at her with disbelief. "I know. I was very small, only five, but I'd seen a stable boy get kicked in the face, and when Brandon found out I was scared he traumatised me even more by picking me up from horseback and galloping off, with me kicking and screaming. He found it hilarious, and I suppose it must've been, but I was furious at the time. Ned actually taught me first. He made me sit in front of him on his horse, and we just walked through the Wolfswood. Then he gave me the reins and let me steer. Soon I was outriding them all," Jaime smiled wryly.

"My father sat me down in front of his desk and made me read his letters," He said. "Three hours a day, pointing out exactly what I was doing wrong. The letters never stayed still on the page, I could never make sense of them, and the Maester said he couldn't change that. But he made me learn anyway,"

"Lovely man, your father," Jaime hummed in agreement and they fell into silence.

"What about Tya?" He asked. Lyanna grinned.

"She pushed Lancel over, so Dorna sent her to her room without lunch," Jaime snorted.

"The little shit probably deserved it," His cousin Lancel was a whingy, rather spoilt child. He didn't know how his strict Aunt Dorna could tolerate it. She certainly hadn't put up with any nonsense from him or Cersei when they were younger, despite only being ten or so years older than them. And Cersei aged twelve was considerably more formidable than Lancel.

"He took her sword," Uncle Gerion had given Tya her most treasured possession for her second birthday a few months ago, a little wooden sword. It had been intended as a joke, and would probably have ended up going to Lorcan when Tya lost interest, but the little girl never did, and rarely let it out of her sight. Let alone let her cousin steal it.

"She really is your daughter," Jaime said. "Pushing around boys twice her size,"

"Let's hope she's more yours," Lyanna laughed, and he grimaced.

"I'm not so sure," He muttered. Lorcan and Tya were almost exact opposites in personality - his son was fairly quiet, careful and calm, though rather demanding, whereas his daughter was brash, dauntless and full of energy - but they were already rather too attached to each other. One of the few times Lorcan had gotten into trouble was hitting and kicking the young son of a visiting bannerman after the child had pushed Tya over. And Tya was always delighted to be with her brother, hugging him and climbing all over him; Lorcan wasn't likely to tolerate that from anyone else, but did with his twin. Jaime had made sure his children had separate rooms since they were old enough to walk. If anyone had found his insistence odd, they said nothing, although he got several knowing looks from Tyrion.

"What was that?" Lyanna asked. He shook his head, telling her not to worry.

*

Jaime had never been a religious man, but he was prepared to get down on his knees and offer eternal gratitude to the Seven, the Old Gods and whatever deity existed that his father was on the other side of Westeros when he found Tyrion three weeks after the boy had gone missing. He couldn't believe his little brother had been quite so stupid as to marry the crofter's girl they had saved on the road, yet couldn't say a word about it because he himself knew plenty about loving the wrong person.

He also couldn't believe that it had come to this, sneaking through his own castle in the dead of night like a criminal, smuggling the peasant girl into Casterly Rock without being seen by anyone who would report to his father. The three of them were soaked after riding since evening in the pouring rain, and left a trail of drips of water onto the floor. Both the children - for children was what they were, no matter how much older Tyrion pretended to be - were shivering. His brother had given the girl his cloak, Jaime noticed.

"Finally," He muttered as they emerged from the secret passage - one of many that littered the Rock, he and Cersei had spent their childhood exploring them - and into his chambers. His and Lyanna's chambers, they might as well be called, for she rarely slept in her own room even if it was the next one along, with an adjoining door. The girl, Tysha, let out a small squeak as the pale figure in the bed sat bolt upright at the sound of intruders, vigilant as ever. Before his wife could reach the dagger he knew she kept tucked under the mattress, Jaime had grabbed her and clamped his hand over her mouth to stop her calling the guards. She struggled furiously, and he quickly hissed into her ear. "It's me, you idiot, be quiet," She stopped, and he let her go. She glared at him, rubbing her heavily pregnant belly irritably as he lit the candles.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She then noticed Tyrion stood there. "Tyrion!" She exclaimed in surprise, having been worried for the boy these past weeks. "He found you, thank the Gods," Her eyes moved onto Tysha and narrowed. "Who's that?" Jaime smiled humourlessly.

"Tyrion?" He turned to his thirteen year old brother with a mocking tone.

"She's my wife," The boy at least had the grace to look a little abashed under Lyanna's stare. When Jaime had found them in that little cottage and told him he had to return home, Tyrion had been nothing but defiant and decidedly sulky. As Jaime had gone alone, not wanting to take any risk of this getting found out after the Septon who had married the pair came crawling to Casterly Rock to confess for fear of Lord Tywin's retribution, he had had to talk Tyrion into coming with him. That conversation had taken far too long for him to be in any sort of good mood now.

"Your wife?" Lyanna's eyes widened, and she turn to Jaime. "The crofter's daughter from the road?" He nodded, and she looked at Tyrion and the girl, getting out of bed, not caring she wore nothing but a nightgown. She approached Tysha, who had been looking at the floor ever since they arrived, and surveyed the girl, who was dark haired, slender and fairly pretty, though hardly a great beauty. "You're a pair of idiots," Lyanna turned to Jaime, then to Tyrion. "Smuggling her here in the middle of the night. She must be terrified," She turned to the girl. "What's your name?"

"Tysha, milady Lannister," Tysha mumbled, shifting uncomfortably and not raising her eyes. Jaime wasn't sure why she was so afraid; yes, the girl was only thirteen whilst Lyanna was nineteen, but they were both about the same height. Perhaps it was him making her anxious, as she was obviously comfortable with Tyrion. Jaime hadn't exactly gone out of his way to be friendly - he'd been a sarcastic bastard, actually, mainly for his brother's benefit - and the last time they met he had been standing over four dead bodies with a bloody sword and an exhilarated grin.

Of course, what she overheard of the argument between him and Tyrion probably didn't help. In trying to convince his brother to come back with him, Jaime had spoken of what Lord Tywin had done to his own father's mistress, after Lord Tytos' death. Paraded the woman naked through the streets of Lannisport, forced her to confess to everyone she met that she was a whore and a thief, then exiled her for the foreseeable future. Tyrion had gone white as a sheet at that, and Tysha had looked ready to pass out. It had worked, though, and they were on the horses within ten minutes.

"Just call me Lyanna," His wife pulled a face. "I'm still not used to being Lady Lannister, even after nearly three years," She grinned. "I suppose that's you now, too, if you married the little brother. Tysha Lannister," The girl let out a strangled sort of giggle, half incredulous, half absolutely terrified. Tyrion smiled - a kinder, less cynical smile than Jaime had seen on his brother in a long time - and rubbed circles into her hand. He supposed that was meant as a comfort.

"See," The boy said. "I told you Lyanna was nice,"

"Nice?" Jaime snorted, moving to stand beside his wife. He couldn't help but notice that Tysha shrank back from him slightly. "Hardly. She doesn't hit you,"

"Fuck off," Lyanna snapped at him idly, without any real bite. Tysha's eyes widened at her language, and the faintest ghost of an uncertain smile crossed her face for a split second. "Both of you, you're not helping," She looked at Tyrion, who opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again under her glare. Lyanna was the only person Jaime knew, save perhaps their father, who could get his brother to shut up.

"I think you're forgetting whose room this is," Jaime smirked, knowing exactly how to annoy her.

"No, I'm just throwing you out of it," She said flatly. "If you want to feel useful," She looked pointedly at Tyrion. "Go to my rooms and get a dress that would fit your wife, we're about the same height. Her clothes are dripping wet," The same height they may be, but Tysha was as thin as a stick, whereas Lyanna had the curves of a woman and was lean with muscle from training, even when she wasn't pregnant. Jaime wasn't sure she possessed any clothes that would fit the girl.

"Milady, I couldn't," Tysha mumbled, mortified even as she shivered with cold. "I'm but a crofter's daughter, I can't wear a noble lady's dress,"

"Most of them are quite plain," Lyanna looked a little uneasy for the first time that night. Jaime knew she didn't like to think of herself as a lady, especially when faced with the smallfolk. "None of them fit me now, anyway, I'm too big. The green and white wool one, Tyrion, with black stockings. Jaime'll know which it is. Get a shift too, she must be soaked through,"

"Come on," Jaime grabbed his little brother's arm before he could protest anymore, pulling him through the door leading to Lyanna's chambers. He wasn't especially tactful as a rule, but knew that his wife wanted to talk alone with the girl and knew better than to go against that. He told Tyrion so, and after they found and delivered the requested dress they both sat against the door, waiting to be allowed back in.

"I love her, Jaime," Tyrion said miserably. "And more importantly, she loves me. She doesn't mind that I'm a dwarf. She doesn't want Lannister gold. She doesn't care that I'm ugly. What other woman alive could there be like that?" Jaime sighed.

"Father can't ever know," He said. "You know what he'd do to her,"

"He doesn't care what I do," Tyrion said angrily. "He'd celebrate if I ran away and was never even again. We could've stayed in that cottage, Jaime, we could've been happy,"

"If you think Father would let that happen as long as there was breath in his body," Jaime said. "You're not half as smart as I thought you were," As much as it saddened him to disillusion his brother, he was glad that Tyrion seemed to acknowledge that that was true. He knew it all along, Jaime suspected, he was too smart not to. But love made him blind and foolish, as blind and foolish as it had once made Jaime when he made a promise to his beautiful sister, as they lay together in an inn in King's Landing, her borrowed roughspun dress crumpled on the floor. He had thrown away his life to join the Kingsguard, all for her, because she was his life. That had been six years ago. Six years. He'd seen Cersei barely half a dozen times since that night at the inn.

He thought of Lorcan, with his small smiles and quiet nature. He thought of Tya, making him lift her up and swing her round by the arms. He thought of Lyanna in the next room, talking to a girl Cersei wouldn't have given the time of day to, as their third child grew in her belly. His sister had been his life once, he decided, but she wasn't anymore. The thought was strangely liberating.

When they returned, Tysha looked a little happier. She was even smiling, albeit still quite uncertainly, as she and Lyanna sat on the end of the bed; the younger girl sat gingerly, hardly daring to touch the fine material of the blankets, even as Lyanna lounged carelessly, one leg folded under her. Tysha wore Lyanna's green and white dress, which was indeed rather plain and simple - his wife favoured her clothes that way - but was of higher quality than anything the commoner girl would have ever worn before. She didn't fill it quite like Lyanna did, but it did seem to suit her, better than her own roughspun, slightly-too-short one had. Jaime saw Tyrion thought so too.

"Tyrion," Lyanna addressed the boy. "You've got to listen to me on this. I've talked to Tysha, and we both agree that you cannot acknowledge her as your wife. No, let me finish," She cut off his hurt, angry retort. "Your father would do Gods knows what to her if he found out - and thank you Jaime, for putting the fear of the Gods in her," She gave him a weary look, and he just shrugged. "You can't let that happen. That would be selfish," Tyrion looked mutinous. "But," Lyanna continued pointedly. "If we arranged to buy a small but comfortable house in Lannisport for her, and you were subtle about your visits... if both of you kept your heads down and never let on that she was your wife to anyone," Tyrion looked up, not daring to believe what she was suggesting. "I'm sure you could still see her whenever you wanted,"

For a moment Tyrion stood there, mouth slightly open that anyone who wasn't Jaime would be so kind to him. Then he threw his arms around Lyanna, hugging her tightly. Jaime heard him muttering 'thank you' over and over again, apologising when he squeezed her bump too hard, and couldn't help but smile slightly. He caught sight of Lyanna and Tysha sharing a glance. There was more than gratitude that the younger girl was directing there. It could have been... understanding? Jaime didn't know. He wondered what had been said when the two women were alone.

*

Damon Lannister was born two and a half years after the twins, and was far bigger at birth than his elder siblings - all three of them, according to Lyanna - making for a long and difficult labour. Jaime had stayed beside his wife the whole time, unconsciously offering his hand again, which she unconsciously took. Apparently he hadn't learned from last time; he didn't think his left hand would ever be quite the same again. Spiteful woman, no doubt feeling it necessary for him to experience pain like she was, even only some small measure of it.

"He looks like you," Jaime said, eyeing the bundle his wife held in her arms as she sat up in bed, propped up by countless cushions.

"Are we seeing the same child?" Lyanna said incredulously. "Come on, sit down here and look again," She shuffled up despite his half hearted protests that the Maester said for her not to move, and Jaime found himself sitting gingerly on the bed next to her as she handed over their son. He muttered an apology when he accidentally jarred her arm as he took the child. "I'm not made of glass," She said, and he rolled his eyes, nudging her so sharply with his elbow that she yelped in surprise and almost fell off the other side.

"That better?" He snickered as she glared, though she was biting back a smile. "He does look you," Jaime reiterated. Yes, the baby was blonde, but his eyes looked closer to grey than green, and his face was more Stark than Lannister.

"Hm," Lyanna tilted her head, peering at the baby over Jaime's arm. "I don't see it,"

*

His wife found out eventually.

Jaime had hoped she never would. In the beginning it had been a matter of practicality - he would have to keep her quiet if she found out, somehow, or gods knows the consequences - but now it was different. In the beginning he wouldn't have cared one bit about seeing the disgust and hatred in her eyes. Now, the idea hurt him more than he was willing to admit. He realised, as she stood there, that for all their exchanged insults and jokes, he didn't actually want her to think badly of him. Especially as she was meant to be leaving on a visit to Winterfell in two days.

"Your sister," Lyanna had said flatly, having entered his rooms without knocking. Somehow her bluntness was worse than yelling. "The woman you love is Cersei. You fucked your twin sister,"

"Who told you that?" For the first time since he met her, he struggled to hold her stare, but held it regardless and forced an expression of amused disbelief onto his face, acting unconcerned even as his stomach lurched. She looked on, unimpressed, seeming to see straight through him.

"Don't patronise me," She said, arms folded. "It wasn't a question. I already know,"

"You shouldn't listen to slander," He said carelessly. "You of all people should know that," He knew exactly how to make her angrier, for better or worse. Likely worse. She glared daggers at him, but unsettlingly did not rise to the bait.

"I spoke to one of your mother's old handmaids," She said. Jaime's blood ran cold but he kept his expression of mild disinterest. "She told me about when you were children. You couldn't keep away from each other,"

"We were close once, believe it or not," He said. "There weren't any other children our age then. Which, of course, means I wanted to sleep with her," The sarcasm came naturally. Jaime had spent so long lying about this that he could flick a switch in his head and it never happened.

"She said she found you kissing when you were eight," She continued, ignoring him. "Properly, not just like children playing. Your mother moved you to your own room when she found out, but then she died. After that, the maid was the only one who knew, and she kept it quiet. Of course she did, your father would have her head if he heard her suggesting anything like that about his precious golden twins. But she knew all the same. She knew Cersei would sneak to your room at night. She noticed the hidden touches, the way you acted around each other. She heard you. She saw you. You had dozens of beautiful girls falling over themselves for you, but you never showed a single interest in any of them. And when you heard that Cersei was to go to King's Landing, it just so happens you got named to the Kingsguard," His smile had been slowly falling as she spoke.

"Gods, you actually believe it," Jaime said, frowning now and feeling the falsehoods spill from his lips with well-practiced ease. If he tried hard enough, he could almost believe it himself. "This woman is likely just a disgruntled servant. Did she happen to have any proof?" Lyanna's smile was grim.

"I got proof," She said, and he didn't doubt it. Fuck. "I went to the Maester. Cersei was consistently stealing moon tea from his stores since she was twelve. He didn't tell your father for similar reasons,"

"And you immediately came to the conclusion that Cersei was sleeping with me, her twin brother?" He asked. "Not a friendly guard? A handsome hedge knight? A lucky stable boy?"

"As if your sister would lower herself like that," Lyanna snorted derisively. "What better man for her than the one she saw when she looked in a mirror," She understood Cersei well, Jaime thought bitterly. "That wasn't what convinced me from the moment I heard the words out of the maid's mouth, though," She smiled slightly sadly now. He raised an eyebrow and she continued. "Our wedding night. I promised not to call you his name, if you promised not to call me hers," His smile fell altogether.

"Yes?" He practically hissed.

"It was only once," She said, and he was getting to his feet. "It was strange at the time, but I brushed it off, thought you must've said something else, because the alternative was so ridiculous, so wrong, that it wasn't even worth considering," She stood her ground as he stalked towards her. "But I heard right. You spoke her name," Lyanna was looking up at him now, head tilted back with how close he had got. There was a moment where they just stood staring at each other, watching, waiting. Then she pulled back her lips in an unpleasant smirk. "Cersei,"

In an instant Jaime had her pinned against the wall, one hand roughly gripping her throat. He wasn't thinking, it was instinct, to protect the dirty little secret - the dangerous secret - that he had hidden his entire life. That had once been his entire life. His wife struggled with his hands, eyes flashing dangerously, but he was bigger than her, stronger, and pushed her back again. He wasn't trying to hurt her, some part at the back of his mind registered. He only wanted to make her stay, stop her running away before he had the chance to explain and telling everyone who would hear it. Of course, looking back, he was sure that those intentions didn't exactly come across in the moment.

"That was before," He said lowly as she breathed heavily, eyes wild but stilling slightly. "Listen to me, or we're all as good as dead. That - was - before," She laughed, cold and slightly mad.

"Before what?" Lyanna taunted, looking undaunted up at him. "You fucked your sister! Whether it was before anything that doesn't make it fucking right. Before what?" She repeated again, not taunting now, angry. "Before you swore your marriage vows? Before she swore her marriage vows, to the king?" Jaime smiled humourlessly.

"I lay with my sister on the morning of her wedding," He said with vicious vindication. "I fucked the queen the morning after, when Robert had left to go hunting and she told me he called her Lyanna all night. I tried to fuck Cersei the evening before my wedding," He felt his wife stiffen under his grip, and he relished in his next words. "But she threw me out. Told me I could either have her, or my new Stark whore, as good as spat in my face. I haven't touched her since, and now find I have no desire to. Now look at me - look at me," Lyanna would hate him for this, he was vaguely aware as he forced her chin up to face him and she braced against him, with good reason. "If anyone else discovers this, anyone at all, I am dead, she is dead, the Lannister family disgraced, and where do you think Robert will look for a new wife? Jon Arryn barely saved you the first time from a life of being a trophy queen in King's Landing, a life of that man violating you every night and parading his whores in front of you during the day,"

"You don't need to threaten me," She snarled, twisting her face out of his grasp. "I know what it means if I tell anyone. I am not a child, I am not a fool and I have never been anyone's fucking trophy. If you let me speak, husband, I was going to say I had no intention of breathing a word to anyone. That I would gain nothing from seeing your head on a spike. That I have no reason to want that to happen. That you are my husband - my friend - and I would never betray a friend,"

Jaime stared blankly at her, his grip slowly loosening, before he released her altogether. Neither of them moved, standing there in a thick silence, both breathing heavily. Perhaps neither of them were that good at making their intentions known.

"Why?" He asked after a moment. She raised an impatient eyebrow. "You've just discovered that I slept with my twin sister for most of my life. Why are you being so... rational?"

"Rational?" Lyanna scoffed slightly. "That's me all over," He suddenly, absurdly, found himself forcing back a smile. Hardly the time.

"You're about as rational as I am," He said flatly. "And I just threw you against a wall. You can see my concern," Her lips twitched.

"It's not like you done that before. Different circumstances, I'll admit," He bit his lip, but then she grinned. It was a small grin, but it was her own all the same.

She jumped slightly when he suddenly reached towards her again - Jaime ignored that for now, even as he felt a stab of something that might have been guilt - but relaxed slightly as he drew her close in a hug. He was grateful, more than grateful, and didn't have the words to show it. She was tense initially, but then he felt her arms snake around him as she returned the embrace, and was more grateful still.

"Of all the embarrassing things I've found out about you since we married..." She murmured into his shoulder, trailing off. He raised an eyebrow.

"Embarrassing?" He said a little faintly, as they broke apart. "This is hardly wearing my sister's dress to a sewing lesson,"

"You want the truth?" His wife asked, sitting down on the bed. "It's not even that she's your sister that bothers me,"

"It isn't?" He asked disbelieving.

"Well, yes, it is partly, but you can't blame me for that," Lyanna admitted wryly. "But what truly repulses me is the fact it's her. Imagining you, with that poisonous, cruel bitch of a woman... makes me feel sick,"

"I don't know what to say to that,"

"You're not meant to say anything," She said. "You're meant to shut your big mouth for once and listen. You owe me that, after I didn't scream down the whole castle about your little secret. I'll let you know now, I don't appreciate having Cersei Lannister's seconds," Jaime couldn't help it, he laughed at that. She gave him a sharp look, which softened slightly. "Come here," She said a little heavily, and he sat beside her on his bed, a reasonable distance apart until she shuffled closer and rested her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her out of habit, and they sat there in a not entirely awkward silence for a minute or so.

"I suppose it's too much to ask if you'll stay here tonight," Of course he had to ruin it, but it was worth a try. He wasn't even asking for those reasons, either. Well, mostly. Lyanna gave him a flat look.

"You lied to my face, slammed me against a wall, choked me, then told me you tried to fuck your sister on the eve of our wedding," She said. "You've got some nerve, Lannister. Better hope Ned never finds out. He'd declare war for less,"

"Fair enough," Jaime couldn't begrudge her that. "For what it's worth... sorry. I - "

"Panicked?" She suggested, smirking slightly. "I don't think I've seen you panic before. Or heard you apologise, for that matter,"

"I've never done anything that needed it," He said. "To be clear, the sorry was for strangling you. I won't apologise for Cersei," Lyanna looked hard at him for a moment.

"Fair enough," She said after a while. He raised an eyebrow, and she grinned wolfishly. "Honestly? I think I'd rather fuck Ned or Brandon than Robert," Jaime let out a bark of surprised laughter as she stood to leave.

She left for Winterfell two days later.

*

Lyanna took the twins on her visit to her old home, deeming them old enough at three to travel that far and wanting to see her bastard son Jon again; the boy would be four now. Jaime hadn't planned to go with them before, and didn't go now. He had no desire to see any other Starks, and besides his wife felt guilty for leaving Damon behind. He had pointed out that they left the twins when they were that age, and she had said some nonsense about them having each other at least. Either way, he was staying at Casterly Rock whilst his wife travelled with an escort of Lannister guards to the North. He doubted that she'd have any trouble with the Lord of the Crossing this time.

He knew her visit to her childhood home was not a result of what she had discovered about him and Cersei - it had been planned long before that - but he suspected that she was at least partly glad to have some time away. Lyanna had acted mostly the same as normal towards him in the two days after the revelation, but Jaime had caught her eyeing him when she thought he wasn't looking, and whenever Cersei's name was mentioned by anyone she tended to exhibit some form of reaction like looking up sharply, or glowering at nothing in particular. Though they had shared a bed, they hadn't shared a bed, and he had even caught her with suspiciously red eyes after she left the Godswood the night before her departure, though he couldn't say if that was related to this particular issue or not.

This was probably the longest time they'd been apart since they were married. Jaime had been away for a week or two at a time before - visiting bannermen, going after bandits, sorting out land disputes (he had to admit his unsavoury reputation as the Kingslayer certainly helped with this aspect) etcetera - but Lyanna had always been back at the Rock, or within a day or two's ride if she was visiting one of her friends, various other women of the Westerlands. Now she was hundreds of leagues away. It wasn't that he was missing her. She drove him mad sometimes, and he knew he did the same to her. It was nice to have the whole bed to himself, without his fidgety wife wriggling and tossing and turning, constantly, all night, beside him. It was pleasant to be able to train with the men without getting heckled - often in a highly insulting and/or inappropriate manner - by Lyanna as she watched. He also enjoyed not being outdone by his wife when he rode a horse, and not always having the windows open letting in freezing air from outside.

But as the weeks without her dragged on, Jaime did have to admit that he was bored. He did not miss her, but he did find himself missing having to come up with creative insults to hit back at her with. And even though she wasn't the best swordsman, she was fun to fight with, and he even had to acknowledge that he enjoyed teaching her; especially, but not necessarily, when fighting turned into another kind of physical activity. More than once, at a dull meeting with another dull lord, he found himself turning to his right mutter a sarcastic comment to a woman who wasn't there. He hadn't appreciated how boring everyone else was when she wasn't there with him.

He did miss the twins, he'd admit that. He missed being amazed that Lorcan was beginning to understand letters, missed Tya's antics, missed seeing more and more of himself and Lyanna in them every day. He missed his son's small smiles and his daughter's wide grins. He missed taking them riding, showing them the secrets of the Rock, laughing with Lyanna as they watched their children.

Fuck it, he missed his wife.

It wasn't that he loved her. Not in a Florian and Jonquil kind of way. Not in a Jaime and Cersei kind of way either. Jaime was having to acknowledge that he cared for her, but in a way she acted more like a sister than Cersei ever did, with the benefit of not actually being a blood relative, which had to be a good thing, didn't it? They antagonised each other, they amused each other, they fought, they laughed. And they loved their children.

Jaime received a letter from Winterfell, six weeks after Lyanna had left. She hadn't written at all before then, but they were never in the habit of writing to each other, both of them not having the patience for it. Her letter now was short and simple. She was pregnant again. Despite himself, Jaime smiled at that. It also said she was travelling back to Casterly Rock now, before she got too fat to ride a horse, so not to reply as she wouldn't get it. He had to laugh at her eloquent wording. She finished by saying that the twins missed him.

He was there to meet her in the courtyard when the party arrived in the early evening. Though clearly weary from the long time on the road, Lyanna's eyes were still bright and she dismounted without assistance, lifting down Lorcan who rode in front of her, whilst Tya rode with one of the guards, both too young to have their own horses. The twins were both tired too, but Tya ran up to embrace Jaime, with Lorcan following at a calmer pace. His daughter began talking eagerly about her cousins, her half brother Jon Snow, the Wolfswood, the crypts, the First Keep, the Broken Tower, as Lyanna approached after giving her horse to a stable hand.

"Hello," She smiled at him, and Jaime straightened up from the children, smiling back at her, both a little hesitant but not willing to admit it. His wife turned to the nursemaid, instructing the woman to make sure the twins had baths and got clean clothes before bed. The children went, though Tya protested at first. Then it was just the two of them.

"How was Winterfell?" Jaime asked.

"Good," She nodded. This was strange. Far too nice for either of them. They'd never bothered with niceties, not even when they were strangers. "How was... here?"

"Dull," He said bluntly. "Boring. Monotonous. Take your pick," Lyanna smirked slightly as they walked inside.

"Well if you insist on staying at home to take care of the baby..." Jaime looked down at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I could say many things to that," He said. Lyanna laughed, grabbing onto his arm like she often did. His grin grew when she didn't let go. This was better. More natural, more like them.

"Why don't you?"

"This is the first time I've seen you since I learned you're pregnant with another one of my children," He said. "I have to be at least polite, don't I?"

"Polite?" His wife pulled a face. "Now that's boring. But you can't even claim to be polite, Jaime. Don't think I haven't noticed where we're going," Jaime took a split second to realise that they were walking to their bedchamber.

"Would you believe me if I said that wasn't intentional?" He asked.

"If that was true," She was grinning her wolffish grin. "I'd be very disappointed,"

Needless to say they didn't waste any time getting to their chambers, nor once they were there. They'd barely kicked the door shut before her lips were on his. As to the rest, they didn't even make it to the bed.

A while - a long while - later, they were both sat on the edge of the bed, Lyanna leaning her head against Jaime's shoulder, his arm around her.

"I forgave you, you know," She murmured. "I forgave you the day I heard it, even though there was nothing to forgive, not really. I mean, you never broke your vows to me. And even if you had, I could barely stand to look at you when we were first married so I doubt it truly mattered anyway," Lyanna broke off. "I forgive you," She repeated again, quieter, sounding a little... he didn't know. He just squeezed her waist, pulling her closer to him. There was a pause. "Especially after the welcome you just gave me," Jaime looked at her, and she looked at him. Her lips twitched. And then she started to laugh, and her laugh was so contagious that he couldn't help but grin with her.

*

It was just over a year after the birth of Damon that they welcomed their fourth child, a daughter named Alarra, a Northern name for a Northern girl. Despite her green eyes and golden hair, her long face was entirely Stark, unlike Damon - who held a mix of Stark and Lannister features - and the twins - who were all Lannister apart from their dark hair and Tya's grey eyes. She cried the least of all their children, and Jaime was often unnerved to see the solemn look of Eddard Stark on the face of his infant daughter.

"Tya," Jaime smirked as his eldest daughter - now almost four years old - jumped out of her skin, whirling around to face him where he stood at the door to the nursery. She was stood on a haphazard pile of cushions, on her tiptoes peering into Alarra's crib, and as the pile wobbled at the sudden movement she leapt, catlike, to the floor ahead of it all falling down.

"I'm not doing anything troublesome," The little girl said immediately, getting to her feet. Jaime snorted at her echoing the words of her Aunt Dorna. "Letty said I could go," Jaime knew her nursemaid had not let her go, as the poor woman had come running to him terrified that she'd lost little Lady Lannister.

"You're always up to something troublesome," He said, easily picking her up and resting her on his hip, moving closer to the crib so she could see Alarra properly. She grinned, reaching out to run a hand through her sister's blonde hair, already growing in thick tufts.

"She looks like Mother,"

"She does," Jaime agreed.

"Who do I look like?" She tilted her head to one side, curious.

"Lorcan," Jaime couldn't help but grin at her glare. "But with longer hair,"

"I know that," She said impatiently. "I meant you or Mother,"

"You look like me, apart from your eyes and hair," He said. She pulled a face, and he laughed aloud. "What, that's not good enough for you?"

"If I look like you, that means I look like Queen Cersei," Tya pouted. "You're twins, and everyone says you look the same,"

"Why don't you want to look like Cersei?" Jaime asked - whatever else his sister was, it couldn't be denied she was one of the most beautiful women in Westeros - then paused. "Has your mother told you she's fat and ugly?" He wouldn't put it past her. Lyanna had had a strong dislike for his sister even before she found out their past.

"No, that's what Uncle Tyrion said," Tya said in perfect seriousness. "But I don't care about that. I like Uncle Tyrion, and he's ugly. But I know Mother doesn't like Cersei. What if she doesn't like me?"

"She won't not like you just because you look like my sister," Jaime said, amazed at the child's logic. "She likes me well enough, doesn't she?" Enough to make you and your siblings, anyway.

"Sometimes," Tya said doubtfully, and he had to laugh.

*

Jaime was sparring in the courtyard with Uncle Gerion - Damon eagerly watching them - when he heard the alarm bell sound from the tallest watchtower of the Rock. In answer to it, the bells of Lannisport began to dolefully toll in the distance, creating a dreadful, foreboding chorus. Immediately he scooped his young son up onto his hip and hastened to find out what had happened; he only remembered those bells tolling once in his life, and that was the day Joanna Lannister died. It needed no explanation, however, when he looked out towards the Sunset Sea and saw the countless longships with the black and gold kraken of House Greyjoy boldly emblazoned on the sails. The Iron Fleet, heading straight for Lannisport.

"Has Greyjoy got a death wish?" He asked in disbelief as he stared out to sea, raising his voice as men began to shout their shock all across the battlements. It appeared the man did, for Lord Tywin had destroyed men for far less than a brazen attack on the largest city of the Westerlands, scarcely an hour's ride from Casterly Rock itself. But that did not solve their current problem. However much Greyjoy would regret this, that would not stop the raid from happening. It was a low move, attacking an unprepared city, out of nowhere. He knew there had been mutterings from the Iron Islands for a while, but even his father's spies and informants had not let on that anything of this magnitude was coming.

But there was no time to lose. He quickly began barking orders, his uncles Kevan and Tygett appearing and doing much the same, trying to gather as much of the Lannister army together as possible in the unlikely hope they would make it to aid the Lannisport city watch in time. All at the same time as trying to get into armour.

"Father," Jaime glanced down at the interruption as he felt a small hand hanging off his tunic. He saw Lorcan there, his face pale but set, rather grim for a four year old. One of the few times Jaime could see the Stark in him. "Mother's there,"

"What?" He stopped dead.

"She rode out this morning," The boy was trying to hide his worry. "To Lannisport," Jaime swore loudly.

"Change of plan," He announced loudly, making sure Uncle Kevan heard him. "I'm leaving with as many mounted guards who can be ready in the next five minutes. Lady Stark is in Lannisport," His usually mild mannered uncle swore too, albeit under his breath.

"Go," He said grimly. "Tygett, Gerion and myself will lead contingents of the main force. I'll make sure Tygett's leaves to back you up as soon as possible," Jaime didn't need telling twice. He ran to the stables, and mounted the first tacked horse he saw, along with the requested soldiers, who numbered about three dozen. Without waiting to see if the others were behind him, he dug his heels into the horse's side and galloped recklessly down the steep causeway that joined the Rock to the mainland. He had done this countless times before, knew every twist and turn, but never before with such urgency. It was made twice as risky by the frozen ground and patches of ice - it was still winter, even though it was nearing its end - but Jaime was lucky enough to have picked a surefooted horse that followed his commands at only a touch of his hands on the reins or his heels against its sides.

They were halfway to Lannisport when the first screams reached their ears, and the first spirals of smoke could be seen from the docks. The ships. As damning as the inevitable destruction of the entire Lannister fleet would be, as unbelievably furious as his father would be (no doubt he would receive a portion of the blame, too, as though he could've foreseen this), Jaime couldn't bring himself to care much at that moment. For once, woman, just keep your head down and gods sake keep your mouth shut. Lyanna didn't look like the Lady of the Casterly Rock, at least not when she rode out. She wore high quality but plain breeches, a simple cloak and tunic, and her hair would only be in a rough braid if it wasn't loose. The people loved her for it. If she was sensible, she wouldn't draw attention to herself. If she was smart, she would use her clothing to her advantage and pretend to be a commoner man, or even a fishwife. If she was afraid, she would hide, stay out of the way. But she was none of those things. She was reckless, daring and dauntless. Too much like him, he realised, knowing full well that he would die before he ran and hid whilst reavers raided the city. Cersei may look like him, but he and Lyanna shared the same instincts.

The city was chaos when they arrived. People screaming and running, some trying to fight and getting cut down by merciless Ironborn, doing their best to get their hands on anything valuable in sight. The city watch were doing their best - his father had always made sure they were well trained and highly disciplined, and Jaime had been sure to do the same - but there were far too few of them, and they had been taken completely by surprise. The sea was a raging inferno, the Lannister ships all up in flames as the smaller, swifter Ironborn longships darted in between them.

"Help them," He ordered his men. "Two of you with me. Everyone else, drive the reavers back to the sea, kill any that don't run," The others hesitated to leave him. "Go," He yelled impatiently, already riding off. He ground his teeth in frustration as the hordes of terrified, fleeing people made navigating the streets painfully slow. Not to mention that every reaver who saw him made a beeline straight for their group of three. Jaime cut through each and every one like they were butter. As concerned as he was for his wife, the song of the battlefield began to overtake his mind; the adrenaline, the rush of not knowing which second would be your last, the flash of his sword, the satisfaction of blood spurting from the wounds it made. The guard to his right had fought bravely but was dragged from his horse by three Ironborn. The one on his left was felled by an axe to the face. His blood spurted across Jaime's face, hot and wet; he realised then that in his haste he had not remembered to put on a helm. Fuck. No wonder he was an obvious target, he thought not wearing the golden armour would be enough. Jaime smiled grimly. He'd just have to make sure no one got close enough to land a blow.

He didn't wait to see what had become of the guardsmen, continuing to push through the chaos on the horse, who he had increasing respect for as the beast did not falter at a thing. Then he saw her. Her back was against a wall as she and one of her guards fought off four reavers, and Jaime had never been more glad he taught her to use a sword. She had been learning almost five years - nearly as long as they'd been married - and though she had improved greatly from the poor fighter she had been, she was only an average swordsman; she was very quick, with good reflexes, yet she was not very strong, especially compared to the brutes she fought now. She also had little more experience than a green boy, obviously never having fought any true battles before. Now, with her back against the wall, she could not move no matter how quick she might be. In a position like that, it was strength and experience that won. As one of the reavers smiled nastily, raising his sword for the killing blow - her guard had fallen seconds before - she practically snarled at him, though Jaime recognised the cornered wolf look in her eyes, wild and ferocious. In one last reckless push, she darted forward and slashed the face of the reaver that threatened her, a move she knew would leave her open and cause the others to kill her instantly in retribution, but Jaime well understood the idea of wanting to go down fighting. But then he was there, in one smooth swing of his sword opening the stomach of one Ironborn, who roared with pain and collapsed to the ground to bleed out, whilst his blade continued on to block the vicious swipe of another that surely would've split Lyanna in two. In less than a second, the man was dead, as was the last of Lyanna's attackers as she had taken advantage of the distraction and stabbed the man whilst his attention was elsewhere.

Jaime quickly pulled his wife into a narrow alleyway, slightly away from the chaos in the streets, and quickly ran his eyes over her. Her face and clothes were bloodied and dirty, and she bore several fairly minor wounds, but otherwise she was unharmed, if shaken. Only then did he allow a grin to spread over his face, let the true rush of the battle take over. She grinned a little hesitantly back, though he knew it was sincere.

"I never thought I'd be so glad to see your smug face," He laughed at her.

"Your first real combat," He said. "How did you find it, Lady Stark?"

"It was going alright until those four came along," She said. "I took down three before them, probably only because they didn't expect me to know how to use the sword," She grinned. "Bet you loved playing the gallant knight rescuing the fair maiden,"

"I see no fair maiden," He grinned. "Only a wild wolf, wearing very tight breeches," She rolled her eyes, but didn't lose her exhilarated expression.

"I enjoyed it," She said. "I understand what you meant about being in a battle. Even when I thought I was about to be cut in half by an axe-wielding madman, I have never felt more alive," He laughed aloud.

"I told them I'd ride ahead to get you," He said. "But now I'm here, I fear I am needed to help defend the city. You won't be too upset if we stay a while longer, my lady?"

"Not one bit," Her eyes glinted.

They fought side by side, back to back, for who knows how long. Jaime's own fighting was hindered slightly, as as well as dealing with his own opponents he also had to watch out for the less experienced Lyanna, but it was worth it to see the life dancing in her eyes, behind the grim Stark look of determination on her face. Jaime's own sword was singing a merry tune as he cut through man after man; whilst a life of marriage and lordship was not the monotonous misery he had expected, there was nothing quite like a fight for your life. The closest he'd got since the Rebellion was the fights he had when they rode out to deal with bandits, which was hardly the same. More and more Lannister soldiers kept arriving, as Jaime and his uncles gathered the army together, and the Ironborn were soon pushed back to their ships, any who remained lying dead in the streets. Most, however, escaped beyond the still burning ships that were all that remained of the proud Lannister fleet.

Of course, the folly of forgetting his helmet paid its due before the day was out, as Jaime was sliced unexpectedly across the face by a particularly quick reaver's blade. It stung like hell, and the dripping blood was a nuisance, but though it would surely scar it did not feel fatally deep. He could still see, smell and taste at any rate. It was hard to tell in battle how bad your wounds were until you checked, which he had no time for.

By evening, the raid was over, all Ironborn either dead, captured or gone, but Jaime - whilst he had enjoyed himself - was under no impression that the Lannisters had won. The Ironborn raid had gone exactly as Balon Greyjoy had planned; their ships were destroyed, their supplies looted, many guards and townspeople dead, even more wounded, robbed and terrified. Jaime made sure to speak to the people of the city himself, Lyanna beside him, just as battered and bloody as he was. The reaction to the Lady of Casterly Rock fighting alongside her husband had shocked a great many people, but few had questioned it after seeing her wild appearance and the bloody blade in her hand. The few that objected soon regretted it after the less than delicate words they received. When Jaime finished his short speech, Lyanna stood and said a few words as well, and there was a ragged, if enthusiastic, cheer from the exhausted townsfolk as they walked away. They rode back to the Rock together, Lyanna sat in front of him.

She dismounted first, only to be accosted by a dark haired blur as Tya flung herself at her, not caring for the blood, sweat and dirt. Lorcan hovered uncertainly in the background - he wasn't as giving with his affection as his twin - but when Lyanna held out her arms for him he hugged her too. Little Damon toddled up, and Jaime lifted him onto his hip, as Tyrion followed behind him.

"Glad you survived, brother," His brother said, grinning at Lyanna and the twins, though there was concern in his eyes. "Did you see - "

"She's safe," Lyanna said before he could say any more, and Jaime was glad that she at least had remembered to check on Tysha in her small house in Lannisport. Tyrion nodded gratefully, clearly relieved, then his smile twisted wryly.

"Now, who wants to tell father?" There was an unpleasant silence.

Jaime stood in front of the mirror later that evening, fingers brushing at the wound the reaver had given him that day. Now it had been cleaned, it could clearly be seen as a livid red line, crookedly slicing from the bottom of his left cheek, across the bridge of his nose (where it was deepest), finishing dangerously close to his right eye. It certainly wasn't a grievous wound, but it would scar, and his face certainly would never be as pretty again. Cersei would've hated it; it made him look less like her. He wasn't quite sure what he felt about it himself yet.

"You know," He turned around as Lyanna slipped into his chambers, moving towards him. "That makes you look a little bit less like a delicate Southron flower,"

"You like it," Jaime accused, grinning.

"It's not bad," His wife shrugged, but her eyes betrayed her, flicking up to the wound. He laughed. Perhaps he could like the scar after all.

*

Lord Tywin's rage was something to behold. The Maester had sent a letter to King's Landing before Jaime had returned from Lannisport, warning him of the attack and that there may be heavy losses. Uncle Kevan followed up hours later with his own letter. They worryingly received no reply for days, until a rider reached them saying Lord Tywin was several days away from the Rock, with the king's army a week or so behind him and with promised help from Eddard Stark in the North. They had received reports of Ironborn raids against Seaguard, and a letter from Jason Mallister confirmed that it had been less successful than the one on Lannisport, mostly because it was not a complete surprise. Balon Greyjoy's eldest son Rodrik had been leading the attack, and had been slain by Lord Mallister's own hand. It turned out that Victarion Greyjoy had led the attack against the Westerlands, though it had been orchestrated by his brother Euron, a vicious cunt if ever there was one.

Tywin Lannister had ridden through the gates and marched to the Lord's solar without a word to anyone. Jaime and his uncles, along with several high ranking officers in the Lannister army, stood in front of his desk in silence as he ordered Uncle Kevan to explain fully what had happened the day of the raid. A tense silence fell when he finished, as Lord Tywin glowered at the table, no one daring to interrupt. His father then abruptly slammed his hands on the desk, making several men jump, and raised his head to glower at each and every one of them, before outlining exactly how they would annihilate Balon Greyjoy and every single Iron Islander that lived. They were all dismissed after that. They all went.

Jaime was the first to leave, and to his horror, he opened the door to see Lorcan stood listening outside it. He tried to conceal the boy with his legs, but Lord Tywin had already seen him.

"Everyone out," His father said in a steely voice, then turned to Jaime. "Bring the boy in here," His heart sinking, Jaime nodded to Lorcan, who slowly stepped into the room as everyone else left. Uncle Gerion gave him a sympathetic look.

"He didn't mean anything by it, Father," Jaime said, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "He's four years old,"

"I think he did," Lord Tywin looked down his nose at the little boy. "I also think he is old enough to speak up for himself," Lorcan looked up, meeting his grandfather's eyes. He had only met the man several times before, as Lord Tywin rarely left King's Landing more than once or twice a year, and even when he did visit had little time for infants; he had been satisfied with a glance over Lorcan, as the eldest son, proclaiming him healthy and barely looking at the others. "Well, boy?"

"I wanted to hear the plans," He said, a little quietly but clearly enough.

"You did?" Lord Tywin raised an eyebrow. Jaime winced, knowing that look and that foreboding tone. "And why would a child of four feel that he is entitled to know what I plan to do with my army?" Lorcan paused, but Jaime didn't think it was a nervous pause - none of his child were ever nervous - more a thoughtful one. As thoughtful as a four year old can be.

"It'll be my army one day," He said. "I wanted to hear how you did it," Well the boy was more accepting of his future lordship aged four than he himself was at four-and-twenty. Jaime watched as his father considered his son, who to his credit didn't shift, fidget or look away, as Jaime knew he himself had often done when fixed with that look as a child. Then Lorcan opened his mouth again, to the surprise of both men. "I saw the fires," He said. "In Lannisport. I saw the ships burning and heard everyone screaming. I wanted the Ironmen to burn instead," As the silence stretched on, the boy became visibly uneasy for the first time, looking to Jaime for guidance as his grandfather didn't say a word.

"Very well," Lord Tywin spoke in his usual controlled tone, but Jaime could almost (almost) hear a note of approval in his voice. "You may go," He spoke to Jaime as well as Lorcan, and Jaime led his son towards the door. Both of them were stopped however, by his father's voice once more. "Jaime, I never wish to hear of the Lady of Casterly Rock dressing up in in chainmail and fighting alongside her husband again. Be sure to pass that message on to your wife," She had no armour that day. Jaime nodded once to acknowledge the warning.

"Yes, my lord," Lord Tywin waved a careless hand. They both left.

*

"It isn't fair,"

"A dutiful wife would mean that in the sense that she fears for her husband," Jaime smirked as she leaned against his shoulder where they sat together on the nursery floor, legs in front of them as they leant against the wall. Baby Alarra was in Lyanna's arms. Tya was laughing, nimbly dodging away from Damon and his toddler steps as the boy tried to run after his wooden knight she had stolen. Lorcan was shakily tracing the letters Tyrion had taught him with a quill and parchment, even as he peered at his twin with a small smile. None of them paid any attention to Jaime and Lyanna.

"Oh, you'll be fine," Lyanna said carelessly and he laughed. "I wouldn't waste my energy worrying, you've said enough times that you're the greatest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms. Of course I didn't mean I was worried for you. It's not fair that you get to go and fight whilst I'm sat on my arse here doing nothing,"

"Arse," Damon suddenly said accusingly, glaring at his sister who cackled with laughter; she knew that word already. Jaime turned to Lyanna with a raised eyebrow, and she bit her lip.

"And there's another new word he'll never forget," She couldn't help but grin with him. "It can't be said that our children don't get a rounded education,"

"Between you, me and Tyrion they'll all be swearing like sellswords by the time they're five," Jaime agreed.

"The twins are nearly five," Lyanna said, a little disbelievingly.

"Surely not," Jaime joked. "They were screaming, wrinkled and ugly only last week," Lyanna hit his arm and he laughed, even as she smiled ruefully.

"Don't listen to him," She said to Lorcan and Tya, both of whom had looked up together. "You weren't ever ugly,"

"I know," Tya said, and Jaime laughed.

"Well said,"

"You'll miss their nameday," Lyanna realised.

"Not to worry," Jaime said, grinning at Tya. "I'll bring you back an Ironborn axe as a gift to make up for it,"

"Really?" His daughter said eagerly. Lyanna rolled her eyes but chuckled.

"So long as you give Damon his knight back," Tya practically threw the toy at her brother, bounding over to sit on Jaime's lap.

"There," She said. "Please, Father," It was Cersei's face but Lyanna's eyes that stared up at him.

"Don't use it on Lancel," He said. She grinned in triumph, and Jaime looked to Lyanna, amused. "Are we bad parents?"

"They're happy," She shrugged. "What will you give Lorcan,"

"He can share my axe," Tya said. Jaime raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry for believing you're not very good at sharing," He nodded to Damon and his knight.

"I am too," She glared at him.

"She shares with me," Lorcan said. "Just not babies,"

"Lancel is older than you, and Tya doesn't share with him," Jaime's eldest son looked back at him with perfect seriousness.

"Lancel is a bigger baby than Larra," The boy said, and Tya burst out into giggles.

*

Defeating the Greyjoy Rebellion was a bloody, ferocious, if not entirely difficult affair. The Iron Fleet, led by Victarion Greyjoy, was smashed by the Redwyne fleet, ships from Oldtown and Stannis Baratheon - Aeron Greyjoy was captured off Fair Isle and sent as a prisoner to Casterly Rock - allowing the combined forces of Stark, Lannister and the Iron Throne to cross from the mainland to the Iron Islands. Barristan Selmy took Old Wyk, Stannis Baratheon took Great Wyk, whilst Jaime advanced with his father, the king and Eddard Stark on Pyke. Even Jaime was surprised by the scale of the destruction during the short siege on Pyke, as after Botley castle and the town was destroyed, Robert's forces assaulted the southern wall with siege engines, shattering the main watchtower and bringing parts of the surrounding wall down, killing the heir, Maron Greyjoy. The fighting was fierce but the Ironborn had no hope of victory, and soon Balon Greyjoy was dragged in chains to kneel before Baratheon and Stark.

When there was fighting, Jaime let himself go into the battle fever that made him feel so alive. He made it through, unharmed apart from the usual minor bruises and wounds; the worst he got was a small injury to his rib, a nasty mottled bruise but nothing too harmful, and a fairly deep cut to the back of his right hand that made swinging a sword sting in an irritating way. He was, however, very glad Lyanna was not there, as was Eddard Stark, whom he had told of the assault on Lannisport that Lyanna had been caught up in. Jaime was expecting the man's disapproval for not sending his sister away the moment he arrived, but to his surprise all he got was a grim smile, and Stark grudgingly thanking him for teaching her to fight. He seemed to understand as well as Jaime that the woman wouldn't have let herself be sent away, and it was better she fought with him where he could keep an eye on her, than sneak back on her own.

"What's that for?" Stark asked him, eyeing the reaver's sword he had fastened to his belt. To Jaime's displeasure, the man was accompanying him on the ship back to Lannisport, wanting to see Lyanna and meet the rest of the children before continuing on to return his family in Winterfell.

The Northman did not take to the seas at all well, though tried to hide it, even though his knuckles were white as he gripped the handrail. Jaime was under no doubt that Stark didn't want to talk to him as much as Jaime didn't want to talk to Stark, but with all the sailors busy navigating the rough early spring seas, there was little other option for conversation. His wife's brother didn't seem to like conversation much either, but Jaime supposed it was better than sitting alone feeling like death in his cabin as the ship lurched.

"It's a gift," Jaime said with a small smirk.

"Not for - ?" Jaime's smirk grew as Stark's eyes widened.

"It's not for Lyanna,"

"Who then? Surely your brother wouldn't - "

"It's a nameday gift for Tya," He cut the man off, laughing at his expression.

"You'd give your five year old daughter an Ironborn sword?" Stark said in disbelief. "Do you want her to have a scar to match your own?" As well as the one on his face, he nodded to the wound to his hand. "You're lucky. That could've crippled your sword hand," Jaime shrugged.

"She wanted an axe," He ignored the last part.

*

"Ned!" Lyanna threw herself into her brother's arms as he and Jaime dismounted upon arriving in the courtyard of Casterly Rock.

"Lya," A rare smile graced Stark's face, as his sister was already dragging him to meet the children. Only to see that they weren't behind her where she'd left them. Alarra remained in the arms of the nursemaid, but the twins and Damon had all run immediately to Jaime, and he was assaulted by three small children flinging themselves at him the moment his feet touched the ground.

"Are you hurt, Father?" Lorcan asked, noticing he winced as Tya grabbed his hand.

"Only a few cuts and bruises," He told his son. "Nothing worse than you mother's given me," That was a lie, but the boy gave a rare grin, just like his twin's.

"Did you kill lots of reavers?" Tya asked eagerly.

"Lots and lots," He assured her. "I got you a present," She mirrored his grin as he unfastened the short, notched sword from his belt, reaching out for it but he held it away from her. "One condition. You only have it when someone's there to stop you impaling yourself on it. Otherwise it stays with me," She nodded solemnly as he fastened it back to his belt.

"I want a sword!" Damon exclaimed.

"You're only three," Tya said scornfully.

"Well you're only a girl,"

"You look like one,"

"Children," The children all turned as their mother approached, beaming as she led Stark by the arm. "Meet my brother, your uncle. Ned, this is Lorcan," The boy nodded seriously in greeting, mimicking his grandfather. "Tya," The girl grinned toothily, swinging off Jaime's arm as he tried not to wince. "And Damon," The boy peered up at Stark from behind Jaime's legs, half in awe. Stark actually smiled as he saw them all, though it was clear the sight of them gathered around Jaime threw him a little. Of course my own children like me, Stark, no need to act surprised.

"Are you Lord Stark?" Damon asked.

"I am, lad," Stark said surprisingly kindly, leaning down to his level. Jaime remembered the man had two children himself, and wasn't his wife pregnant with a third? Damon grinned.

"You saved Mother from the tower," He said. "And beat the dragons at the Trident," Stark chuckled.

"That I did, with a lot of help," He said. "But I don't know how much saving your Mother needed. I hear she's quite the fearsome warrior," His words were good humoured, but he did give Lyanna a pointed look, no doubt about the trouble in Lannisport.

"She is," Tya said proudly. "And Father is the best sword fighter in the Seven Kingdoms," Both Lyanna and Stark looked at Jaime with identically raised eyebrows.

"I actually didn't tell her that," He smirked as Tya continued, oblivious.

"I'm going to be even better than Father, when I'm bigger,"

"I don't doubt it," Jaime grinned, clapping his hand on her shoulder.

"I will too!" Damon protested.

"You're too little," Tya taunted.

"I'll be as tall as Father one day,"

"Well I'll be taller,"

"Lorcan will be taller than both of you," Lyanna cut in, making their eldest son smile a little smugly. "He takes after your father. Damon, you're more Stark, you'll be nearer your Uncle Ned's height," Damon considered Stark for a moment.

"Alright," He shrugged, then gave Tya a mischievous look. "You'll still be smaller,"

"Bloody children," Lyanna threw up her hands in defeat, leading the way inside as Jaime snickered, hoisting Tya onto his hip and resting his hand on Lorcan's shoulder as Damon trailed after Stark, asking countless questions.

"Gods, you've got heavy, girl," He said to Tya, who grinned.

"I've been eating lots and lots," She said.

"Too much," Lorcan muttered, "You'll get fat," He gave a small grin when Jaime cuffed the back of his head.

"I told your Mother she was getting fat once," He said idly to his son. "Turned out she was pregnant with you two," Behind him, he heard Stark hastily stifle a snort.

*

The air of the tourney at Lannisport was jubilant. Robert was basking in the glory of his victory over the Ironborn, even though he bemoaned the fact that Stark had left to return North the day after the king and his men arrived. Cersei wasn't there, which Jaime was glad of. He didn't think Lyanna would be able to get through a visit from the queen without mentioning something.

Any concerns he had about the king and his wife were for naught, also. Whilst Robert still blatantly desired her, and could be seen staring after her with barely concealed longing when she left, to her face he seemed to have grown up a little, treating her with a courtesy that was slightly more familiar than he acted with the other ladies, but was far better than any alternatives they had experienced previously. Why, you seemed to have finally earned his respect, little wife. Threatening to remove the man's fingers with a spoon had, miraculously (hilariously), worked.

Lyanna didn't give Jaime a favour to wear in the joust, she never did. She didn't watch from the stands with the other nobles, either, she was down near the tilts, waiting with him as he prepared to ride in his first match. She held Alarra's hand, whilst Damon and Tya excitedly chattered about how and when he was going to win, and Lorcan idly stroked his grey destrier's flank as he listened to his siblings. Whilst Eddard Stark despised tourneys, his sister seemed to love the excitement and danger, and it seemed the children did too. Even Lorcan, who seemed generally disinterested with fighting unlike his brother and sister, was watching with keen green eyes as his twin whooped and clapped beside him.

Jaime won match after match after match. Finally he was faced with Ser Jorah Mormont, a newly made knight from the North, who was surprisingly a considerable challenge, riding with steely determination and intense focus. No doubt there was a woman he was riding to impress. Jaime wasn't riding to impress any particular woman - just the rest of the world - which was perhaps why they broke eleven lances before he finally managed to unseat the man. Mormont looked mutinous and ashamed at coming second, but Jaime couldn't bring himself to care.

Instead of offering the crown of red roses to anyone on the end of his lance, he rode to where Lyanna stood with the children and, getting what he was thinking, she lifted Tya up onto his horse in front of him. He crowned his little daughter Queen of Love and Beauty, riding once around the arena, not bothering to hold the girl on as she was just as natural at riding as her mother (as all the children seemed to be). Tya loved the attention. Of all his children, for all she looked like Cersei, she reminded him the most of himself. Damon was as adventurous, but too sweet and kind. Lorcan shared the same sarcasm, but was too clever and reserved by far. Alarra it was hard to tell, but she was rather shy and quiet, and looked so much like a Stark that it seemed strange to imagine her acting like a Lannister.

Tya, on the other hand, though like Lyanna in many ways - even Jaime hadn't been that defiant and stubborn as a young child - was more like him; the way the girl grinned at the crowd, delightedly soaking up the attention, as well as smugly enjoying the king's displeasure as Jaime paraded his dark haired, grey eyed Lannister daughter who rode like a Stark and wore a crown of red... that did not come from her mother. Their children were Lannister lions as much as they were Stark direwolves. The blood of the Kings of Winter ran through their veins, as did the blood of the Kings of the Rock. And people would do well not to forget it.