Chapter Text
Jaime had always followed her brother; she had been destined to do since the moment she slipped into the world after Cerion, tightly gripping his foot. The two were indistinguishable then; they might have been mistaken for identical, had one not been male and the other female. Jaime saw no such distinctions as a child. She was half of Cerion, and he was half of her, and together they were collectively ‘I’, because their needs and wants were the same. More specifically, what Cerion wanted, Jaime wanted. What Cerion did, Jaime did. What Cerion declared, Jaime agreed with.
Cerion was the first of the twins to speak, shrieking ‘Mama!’ at their mother, who smiled with pride, but Jaime was the first to walk, or better put, run, stumbling into a mad dash towards their father when he entered the nursery with his wife. She collided with his knees and grinned up at the man, and although Jaime knew she should not be able to recall such a thing, she had a distinct memory of Father laughing and scooping her up. She remembered what he smelled like, and the rumble of his voice in his chest.
It was the only memory she had of her father showing affection towards her, so false or not, she treasured it jealously. Jaime supposed her childhood had been happy for the first seven or so years. She didn’t remember anything awful. She remembered how everyone crooned and cooed over her and her brother, how they slept in the same bed at night, limbs tangled together, how their mother combed out both of their heads of golden curls each morning, singing softly under her breath a song about Lann the Clever.
She remembered the tourney held to celebrate the king’s tenth year on the Iron Throne, held in King’s Landing. They had never been to the capitol before then, and Jaime had been so excited. There would be knights and jousting, two of her very favorite things. Jaime had never been very good at being a proper little lady. She disdained needlework, broke into wild giggles whenever she was instructed to swing sweetly, and while she enjoyed dancing, she’d never been very good at ‘showing restraint in her movements’, which Septa said was very important, so no one would mistake her for a wild colt. Aside from that, she was absolutely dreadful with the high harp, and the idea of ‘managing her husband’s household’ bored her terribly.
She much preferred it when she and Cerion pretended to be one another and switched lessons. Cerion’s needlework was excellent and he was the far better singer, although a somewhat clumsy dancer. He had far tidier handwriting and was much better with sums, and he played the high harp very well indeed. Jaime liked swinging a sword and riding. She loved riding above all else. Cerion didn’t like horses much; he said they smelled awful and were stupid. Jaime didn’t think that was true at all, but she’d never enjoyed arguing with her brother, as he tended to win by default of being her elder by one minute and Father’s heir.
She didn’t understand why he wasn’t excited about the trip to King’s Landing. Even if it meant she was being fitted for new dresses what seemed like every day, Jaime was thrilled at the prospect of traveling across the Westerlands. “Mother says I may ride Loreon for a little while each day,” she told her brother eagerly. Loreon was what Jaime had named the fine white pony she’d received for her sixth birthday; Cerion had been gifted a miniature bow and arrow set, which he was already very proficient with.
Cerion scrunched up his face into an expression of disgust. “You’ll smell terrible. You’re supposed to stay in the wheelhouse with Mother and Aunt Genna and me.” The emphasis was on the final part of the sentence; Cerion disliked it immensely when he and Jaime were separated, even if only for a short while. Jaime didn’t like being away from her brother either, but the prospect of riding Loreon was too tempting to pass up. Besides, who wanted to spend an entire month of travel cooped up in a stuffy wheelhouse?
“It won’t be all day, Mother won’t let me,” Jaime pouted. “You could ride outside too. Don’t you want to see the mountains? We might even see a pride of lions,” she added brightly.
“No, I don’t care about the mountains,” Cerion said, as if she were simple, although he did look a little intrigued at the mention of lions. “They all look the same, and we’re going to have to sleep outdoors in tents, and it’s all just to see the stupid king and the ugly queen.”
“The king’s not stupid,” Jaime protested, “And Mother says the queen is beautiful.”
“Of course the king’s stupid, Father is the one who really rules,” Cerion retorted loftily. “Everyone knows that. And Mother has to say that, she used to be one of the queen’s ladies.”
Jaime didn’t know how to argue against either of those statements, and so flopped back onto the bed the two shared, staring at the ceiling. “I wonder if the king and queen are twins like us?” Everyone knew King Aerys and Queen Rhaella were siblings. It was queer and blasphemous, according to Septa when she thought they weren’t listening, but it was simply the way Targaryens did things. Jaime didn’t understand why it was alright for them but no one else. She’d told Mother she was going to marry Cerion before, but Mother had just laughed and said all little girls said that about their brothers.
“I don’t think so,” Cerion flopped down beside her, their curls mingling together. Four identical green eyes stared at one another. Then Cerion slowly smiled. He didn’t smile so readily or as often as Jaime, which made her both excited and wary.
“What?” she demanded, and then, “Ceri, tell me!”
“I know a secret,” Cerion sang, rolling away from her.
This was too much to bear; she couldn’t stand the thought of her brother knowing something she didn’t. Jaime snatched up a pillow and buffeted him with it, but he laughed and dodged, scrambling off the bed and running around it. Jaime gave pursuit and leapt on him, tackling him to the floor. The two were the exact same size, and so, evenly matched, and Jaime quickly pinned him on the lion skin rug. “Tell me!” she demanded.
“Fine,” Cerion sighed, and then his eyes gleamed. “You have to give me a kiss first.”
Jaime snorted and pecked him on the corner of his mouth. They had always been freely affectionate with one another, although Jaime was old enough now to begin to realize that most siblings were not quite so close as them. “Now tell me,” she ordered, squeezing her brother’s wrists.
Cerion bucked underneath her and freed his arms, shoving her off as he scrambled triumphantly to his feet. “You’re going to marry Prince Rhaegar and be queen!” Jaime stared up at him blankly. Her brother groaned. “The prince! The king’s son!”
Jaime didn’t understand. “No, I can’t,” she reasoned with a frown. “He’s too old.” She wasn’t sure exactly how old the prince was, having never met him, but according to Father he was almost a man grown, old enough to carry steel and wear armor.
“Not now,” Cerion rolled his eyes. “When you’re older, stupid. Father told me.”
“Why would Father tell you and not me?” Jaime asked uncertainly, finally getting to her own feet.
“Because he thinks you’re dull,” Cerion shrugged. “And I’m in charge of you, anyways. You’ll marry Prince Rhaegar when you come of age and one day I’ll be his Hand.”
Did Father really think she was dull? The thought stung, but Cerion had never lied to her, so what he said must be true. What bothered her more was the notion of marrying the prince. Jaime had always secretly hoped that she and Cerion would be able to marry some day and rule Casterly Rock after Mother and Father were too old. Their parents were cousins; siblings couldn’t be that different.
“But I want to marry you,” she said plaintively. “Not a Targaryen.”
“I’ll be your husband’s Hand, so it will be almost like we’re married,” Cerion argued. “We’ll still be together forever.”
That was a little comforting, but some of Jaime’s enthusiasm for the trip had dampened, until Aunt Genna told her that the prince wouldn’t be at the tourney; he was visiting his cousins in the Stormlands. Jaime could tell her aunt expected her to be disappointed, but it was hard to hide her delight. Now she didn’t have to worry about any of that, at least not right now.
King’s Landing was everything Jaime had hoped for. Everywhere she looked there were fine lords and ladies, decked out in silks and jewels, and men in shining armor with swords strapped to their sides. The Red Keep was a wondrous place for a girl of six, especially when one was Tywin Lannister’s daughter. Cerion rarely strayed from Lady Joanna’s side, but Jaime was always running off and having to be called back before she got lost in the winding corridors of the castle. But she found her brother to be at least partially right about the king and queen. They were not what she had expected. Jaime had grown up on tales of the Targaryen kings and queens of old, and had expected to see a pair like King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne from the old tales.
King Aerys was a loud and boastful man, and exceedingly vain and proud. He was handsome, but he looked nothing like Jaime had imagined a king to look. People whispered that he had many mistresses and that he blamed the queen for being unable to bear him brothers or sisters for Prince Rhaegar. Queen Rhaella was not ugly, but Jaime agreed with Cerion that their mother was far more beautiful. The queen was pale and painfully thin, with sad violet eyes and a downcast air, as if in perpetual dread of what her husband would say or do next.
Jaime did not see much of the king and queen; her mother kept the twins away from the royals, and she spent much of her time playing with the other children present at court or exploring with Cerion. They gaped in awe at the massive seat of melted down swords in the throne room, wandered through empty feasting halls, and pestered the servants in the kitchens for scraps of pastries.
A few days before the festivities were due to end Jaime awoke to hear her father’s voice raised in anger outside the bedroom she and Cerion were, as usual, sharing. She heard her mother’s voice as well, much more subdued but sounding displeased as well, and shook Cerion awake. The two crept over to the door to listen, but all they could make out was an angry mention of Aerys.
“How dare he-,” their father’s furious tone was muffled.
“He’s a drunken fool, but you cannot-,” their mother was insistent, before dropping down to a murmur.
There was no more shouting after that, and the twins reluctantly went back to bed. An hour or so late their door creaked open, and Jaime pretended to be asleep as she heard her mother’s light footfall as she approached the bed. She was crying, Jaime realized with a start, but she couldn’t let on that she was awake, so she laid there silently as her mother wept, sitting on their edge of their bed, before she learned over and kissed both of them softly on the forehead.
Father remained in King’s Landing while Mother accompanied them back to the Westerlands, and she was unusually short and terse during the journey home. Jaime felt unsettled by it, but tried to put it out of her mind, and had successfully forgotten about the odd end to the tourney by the time they arrived back at Casterly Rock.
Several weeks later a maid found Jaime and Cerion kissing, and things suddenly got much worse. It had been Cerion’s idea; not the kissing, as neither could remember who had first proposed that, only that it had seemed like a natural progression when they had been sleeping in the same bed and bathing together for years, but to do it only in secret. Jaime understood that they were likely to be in some sort of trouble if caught, but she did not understand just how much.
The maid who found them was a girl no older than fourteen or fifteen, who shrieked when she walked in on the two kissing while sitting on the floor, toy soldiers and knights still scattered around them. Cerion immediately shoved Jaime away, but it was too late; the maid stared at them wildly for a moment, as if unable to believe her own eyes, and then ran out of the room.
“She’ll tell Mother,” Jaime said, when she could make her tongue form words. There was a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach, as if she’d eaten something gone bad.
Cerion was silent, and looked as if he was torn between screaming or bursting into tears. He brought his knees up under his chin and buried his head in his arms. “What should we do?” Jaime asked tearfully, but he said nothing. Finally she gave up and went over to sit on the other side of the bed, knowing there was no point in trying to hide.
Mother did not take long. She walked into the room, skirts swishing, and took one look at them. Jaime avoided her gaze as she shut the door behind her and sat down slowly on the bed. “Is it true?” Mother finally asked.
It was the only time Jaime had ever heard her mother’s voice tremble.
“Yes,” she said, just as Cerion spat out “No,” at the same time. She ignored her brother’s stare, which was as close to hateful as it had ever been while directed at her. He wouldn’t stay angry forever. They loved each other; why should they lie about it?
Mother looked at them as though she did not recognize them; she was pale and her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. Finally she shook her head. “This... ,” she trailed off before starting again. “This must never happen again. Do you understand? The two of you… you will never be left alone together again.”
“But Mother,” Jaime said desperately, ignoring Cerion’s angry stare, “How can it be wrong for us if it is right for the king and-,”
“Enough, Jaime,” Mother spoke more coldly than Jaime had ever heard her speak before, and the fury in her green eyes. “We will speak no more of it. The two of you are far too old to still be sharing a room. If I ever-,” she hesitated, and then went on, expression darkening, “If I am ever told anything about the two of you… doing such a thing, ever again, I will be forced to tell your father.”
Jaime knew better than to argue any further, and did not protest when her mother took her by the arm and led her out of the room that would become Cerion’s only. Mother pretended as if it had never happened at all in the days following, but Jaime knew what the guard posted near her new bedroom door was for. Then Father visited and Mother announced that she was pregnant with a brother or sister, and Jaime’s childhood ended entirely some months later.