Chapter Text
He swung his sword into the air, the dust of the training yard spiraled to meet him. Jaime Lannister coughed into the swirls of dust and kicked at the ancient training dummy, straw stuffed and well destroyed years before he had even been born.
“I knew I ‘d find you here.” His brother, Tyrion, appeared through the dust cloud, coughing and rough voiced. “Father would like a word with you.”
“I am certain,” Jaime said, sheathing his one prized possession before rounding onto the shorter man, “That it will be far more than one word.”
Tyrion mock bowed but grinned nonetheless. “Of course, you know you and Cersei are the prized chattel. Father has a new plan, you and Cersei are, in large part, the pieces on the cyvasse board.”
There had been a time, somewhere long before the great war, that House Lannister had been on top. The house had once been the wealthiest in Westeros. That, of course, was the past. “He’s still trying to marry us off into oblivion.” Jaime said. “He thinks he can regain our once glorious reign with advantageous marriages.”
Tyrion nodded. “And, after what happened in Dorne, you and our sweet sister have been again aligned to wed into greater houses.”
“I will not.” Jaime said, kicking the straw dummy again and coughing from the new dust storm it raised.
Tyrion, accustomed to his brother’s sulking rants, merely shrugged. “So, you can torpedo this one the same as you did in Dorne, though, I must warn you, father has lost all patience with your rebellions.”
Tyrion knew his brother; knew him more than he probably knew himself, but Jaime would cave this time; their house was bereft of all of the things that once made their house great. Now, they languished in obscurity. Tywin Lannister would see House Lannister rise again; and Tyrion knew he would raise it on the backs of his golden twins.
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Jaime found himself in his father’s solar. The once beautiful estate of Casterly Rock was more cavernous than palatial now, though Tywin Lannister still insisted that they maintain the structure for it was all left if the family. “I sent for you four hours ago.” Tywin said.
Jaime spread his arms wide and laid back into his chair. “And here I am.”
“Your indifference to our family is what destroyed us in Dorne.” Tywin accused. “I have no more patience for your insolence.”
Jaime blinked once, twice. “Arianne Martell would have killed me in our marriage bed. Would you have lost your heir to a Dornish blade?”
“At least you would have done your duty to our house. Jaime, our family is in need of a better situation. We were the kings of the Westerlands. Ever since Lann the Clever--”
“Stole this accursed rock from the Castemeres.” Jaime finished. He was growing bored with his father’s schemes and machinations.
“Enough of this. You are to marry. It's time.”
Jaime threw his head back and laughed. “You have trotted me past every available maiden in Westeros. There are none who would marry into a house so poor and nefarious. Arianne Martell’s own mother had sealed that union out of friendship to Mother. Even that couldn't hold long enough. What makes you think any woman if any noble standing would unite their house to ours.”
“The Evenstar is in desperate need of marrying off his daughter.”
Jaime frowned, Tarth was the wealthiest House in the Stormlands, if not Westeros. The Warden of the East and and seat of the Stormlands was a prize he knew his father couldn't say no to. “I don't see how The Lannister name could entice a family like that into marriage.”
Typing Lannister folded his hands, squared his shoulders and angled a look at his son that was nearly mirth. “Our name still carries some weight. The Tarths owe us an ancient debt.” He said. “And, you are the finest swordsman in the country.”
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He found CerseI curled into a pile of blankets in front of the fireplace in her room. A cask of wine sat near her prone form and she held the pewter goblet in her elegant hand. “Father told you his plan, then.” She threw without turning to look at him.
Jaime nodded and slid next to her. “He did.”
She peered into his eyes. Identical in color and shape, Jaime wanted to drown in them. “You're actually going to go through with this?”
“CerseI….”. He tried, His sister had a fragility wrapped deep inside of her caustic nature, she relied on him, they relied on each other. Father had spelled it out to him, it had made so much sense. He would marry into the Tarths and it would elevate their family enough to find a suitable husband for CerseI. She certainly wasn't getting any younger and it would be more difficult for her as more years passed.
He would marry her himself, but Jaime realized that their family had been through enough shame and ill repute.
“CerseI, please.” He said. “Please understand what must be done.”
Her eyes cracked like glass under the weight of his glare, for a moment, Jaime was uncertain if she would hit him, dump her wine in his face, or kiss him. “Jaime, you know How I feel.” CerseI took a deep, long pull of her goblet and emptied it. “I don't want to marry anyone.” CerseI refilled her glass and moved further into his arms. “It's supposed to be just us., Jaime. You said. “
Jaime moved his hands around her middle, his head resting on her golden shoulder. “It will always be just us, CerseI. I swear it.”