Chapter Text
“Don’t forget your oath, Ser Jaime.” The wench’s words were like a vice grip around his throat. From the moment he walked through the gates of King’s Landing, Jaime felt the pressure to get Sansa out to safety. He had hoped for a moment’s reprieve from Brienne’s righteous priorities by basking in the excitement of his return.
It was not the homecoming Jaime expected.
Tywin should have been pleased to have his eldest son and preferred heir back, even if Jaime had given up his inheritance in favor of the white cloak. Instead, Tywin inspected at him as he would an asset. A damaged asset at that. “Well how do you expect to be of use with your sword hand gone?”
Cersei should have been overjoyed to have her twin, her lover, back in her arms, even if Jaime had begun to question what exactly their relationship was. Now, Cersei looked at him as though he was a stranger. Someone not fit to lick her boots. “You took too long.”
Tyrion was the only one pleased to see Jaime. The only one relieved that Jaime was alive. Unlike Tywin and Cersei, Tyrion did not recoil in disgust at the sight of him. Filthy, haggard, and missing a hand. Despite that, Tyrion found himself in a precarious position. He was also the husband of the very girl that Jaime sought to remove from King’s Landing.
Freshly bathed, shaven, and given a haircut, Jaime sat in his room as Qyburn strolled in. Cersei had commissioned a golden hand to mask his new flaw. Will a golden hand grip a sword the way my flesh did sweet sister? Will it feel the same against your skin?
Now that he was deemed visually acceptable, Cersei glided into his room at Qyburn’s exit. She looked both beautiful and ugly at the same time. Jaime was surprised to find the lack of stirring in his breeches that her presence usually prompted.
“Brother, I’m glad to see you looking more yourself.”
Jaime’s eyes raked over her body. Did my cock fall off in the Riverlands or is it now as lame as she thinks me?
“Sister, here I wondered if you noticed my return at all.”
With an unimpressed sigh, Cersei swirled the wine glass that seemed to have taken permanent residence in her hand. “As I said, you took too long. Much has happened and you weren’t here.”
“You’ll have to forgive me. I was busy rotting in a pen at Robb Stark’s camp.”
Anger flashed across Cersei’s features as she tried to hide her reaction. You can’t hide from me. We’re twins. I know your mood as well as my own. “And did you truly do all that you could to not get captured? Robb Stark is a child and you were supposed to be my golden lion.”
Rage simmered in Jaime’s gut as he appraised his sister. “Well you’ve figured me out. Yes, my intent was to get captured by the enemy so that I may suffer in a cage for a year. Then for added fun, I thought it would be enjoyable to get sent off by the always pleasant Catelyn Stark where I subsequently lost a hand on the journey home.”
A moment of tense silence passed between Jaime and Cersei. Cersei was first to break. Her eyes flitted away and out towards the balcony. “And I see you brought a new pet home. That great cow from Tarth.”
At the mention of Brienne, Jaime’s stomach knotted. He did not want to discuss Brienne with Cersei. Quite frankly, he did not want to discuss Brienne with anyone. Jaime struggled of late to reconcile his own feelings for his captor turned co-captive, turned comrade.
The only thing more frightening to Jaime than giving name to his feelings for Brienne, was having those feelings exposed to Cersei.
“What of her? She returned me to you. Should anything matter beyond that?” Jaime looked away from Cersei; afraid his eyes would reveal away more than he intended to.
“If that’s all it is, why is she still here?”
Well beside the oath I swore that happens to conflict with our family’s desires?
“She was injured returning me here. I asked Pycelle to tend to her wounds. I’m certain she will be on her way after.” With Sansa.
Gliding over to the chair Jaime sat in, Cersei sank to her knees before him; clasping his flesh hand. Her eyes darted to the gold hand and Jaime saw the thinly veiled disgust in her eyes. “I want her gone now. I want us back.”
Liar. You want your creature back. The golden idiot who did your bidding. Cersei pursed her lips and let her hand fall from Jaime’s hand to his thigh. She tugged at the laces of his breeches and kept her eyes fixed on his. Jaime searched them for something. Something he thought he used to see, but now couldn’t find.
Was it ever love?
Cersei’s dainty fingers made quick work of the laces before moving to pull down his breeches. Standing from her crouched position, she lifted her skirts and sat astride his lap. Reaching her hand down between them, Cersei’s eyes locked on Jaime’s matching pair questioningly. A small smile tugged at Jaime’s lips.
“What? Were Kettleblack and Lancel that quick to do their duty?”
At Jaime’s words, Cersei’s eyes darkened, and she leapt off his lap. “Mayhap more than your hand was lost in the Riverlands, brother. Your cock looks rather sad and small, hanging from your breeches like that.”
The words made Jaime laugh as he stood from his chair. His nonchalant attitude seemed only to incite Cersei further. “Don’t worry sister. I’ll keep my sad, small cock away from that loose cunt of yours. I wouldn’t want it getting lost in its vastness.”
Cersei slapped him across the face and turned on heel to leave. She was little more than a swirl of skirts and seething indignation.
Well that went well.
Jaime tucked his cock back into his breeches and finished getting ready. He was to meet his father in the study shortly. Donning his Kingsguard armor, Jaime looked down remorsefully at the gold medal adorning his stump.
The walk to his father’s study was mercifully short. Jaime was still yet recovered from his journey. His stomach growled in protest as his feet carried him in the opposite direction of the hall from where he knew food was being put out.
Coming to stand before the door, Jaime took a steadying breath. He raised his hand to knock and huffed a bitter laugh as the gold hand came into view. Wrong fucking hand. Lowering his right arm, Jaime lifted his left hand and knocked.
Tywin bid him enter and moved around his desk in greeting. “Jaime. Good, you’re here.” Oh, now my presence is ‘good’?
Walking into the room, Jaime’s eyes followed Tywin. His father retreated to a desk at the back of the room. On it, two freshly forged swords were sheathed in crimson and gold.
Tywin produce one of the swords and handed it to Jaime for appraisal. The craftsmanship was stunning, and Jaime admired it in the dim lighting. “Magnificent. It looks fresh forged.”
Turning back to his desk, Tywin muttered. “It is. Valyrian steel in fact.”
“They haven’t made valyrian steel swords since the Doom of Valyria. Where did you even get this much steel?” Jaime’s tone was incredulous as he glanced back to his father.
“A man who no longer had need of it.” The implication was obvious, and Jaime’s jaw snapped shut. Ned fucking Stark. Great. Another reason for their house to hate ours.
Jaime hummed and continued appraising the sword. “We’ve wanted one of these in the family for a long time.”
“And now we have two. That one is yours. Joffrey will have its twin.”
“Two?” Jaime looked up to Tywin in confusion.
“The original was absurdly large. Plenty of steel for two.”
With a heavy sigh, Jaime met his father’s eyes. “Well, thank you. It’s glorious.”
Jaime moved to sheath the sword with his unpracticed left hand but struggled at the motion. The exaggerated eye roll from Tywin did not go unnoticed. “You’ll need to train your left hand.”
“Any decent swordsman can use both.”
“You’ll never be as good.” Tywin’s words hit harder than Jaime cared to admit. He watched as his father sat down behind the table and appraised him.
“No, but as long as I’m better than anyone else, I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Jaime spoke the words confidently but felt anything but. I couldn’t even fell a squire if I needed to.
“You can’t serve in the Kingsguard with one hand.” Tywin’s voice took on a mocking intonation.
“I can and I will. The Kingsguard serves for life.”
“You will return home to Casterly Rock and rule in my stead.” Tywin looked to Jaime with fierce determination in his eyes. Despite it, Jaime was unmoved.
Home? Casterly Rock hasn’t been my home in years. I spent most of my life here, in King’s Landing. I don’t want to be lord of anything. I’m a knight.
Jaime huffed in annoyance and began pacing the room. “You are lord of Casterly Rock.”
“No, I am the King’s Hand. My place is here. I don’t expect to see the Rock again before I die.”
I won’t do this. Let me keep one fucking oath for once in my life.
“Do you know what they call me? Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. Man without honor. Now you want me to break another sacred vow.”
“You won’t be breaking anything. There is a precedence that has been set for such situations.”
“No.”
“No?” Tywin snorted and looked to Jaime as though he sprouted a second head.
“No.”
Tywin stood from his chair and glared at Jaime. “I don’t believe I asked you a question.”
“Well that’s my answer regardless.”
Rounding the table, Tywin began to speak pointedly at Jaime. “If you think your bloody honor…”
The situation hit Jaime all at once. He tuned his father out and began to consider what was happening. An oath. I can keep an oath. I can be removed honorably from the Kingsguard now that I have one fucking hand. Surely they can’t fault me for that and regardless, I’ve already soiled the cloak. I can’t accomplish anything more here, but I can be the knight Brienne believes me to be. I can do something good in this shit life.
Interrupting his father, Jaime spoke commandingly. “I have two conditions.”
Jaime’s words caught Tywin off guard. Tywin’s head jolted up from where he had been studying something on his desk. His eyes were wide in shock. “What conditions?”
“The first is that I name my wife. The second is that I take Tyrion and Sansa with me to the Rock.”
Tywin scoffed and moved back to his chair. “You may choose your wife, but Tyrion and Sansa stay here. I need to monitor them and ensure an heir is conceived so that they may rule properly in the North.”
Jaime shook his head and sat down quickly. “Cersei has done nothing but torture the girl and I swore an oath to Lady Stark to see the girl home. Her kin is dead thanks to you and the Freys, but I can at least see her to safety. I will watch over her and Tyrion at the Rock. When they produce an heir, I’ll ensure they find safe passage to Winterfell. Either you agree to my terms, or I stay in the Kingsgaurd.”
Tywin leaned back in his chair and appraised Jaime. “Tyrion and Sansa will remain here until you name a woman of noble birth and marry her.”
“Brienne of Tarth. That is who I choose.”
Brienne is going to kill me.