Northern lights

50. A sister's worry

Jaime Lannister

Standing in the great sept of Baelor, Jaime didn't know how to feel. The sight of his father's corpse is unsteadying, constricting his airways as guilt drowns his heart. Had he known Tyrion would kill their father, he'd never let him go. 

Tywin was far from a loving father, but he was the only one who could keep Cersei under control and that meant he and Rosalie are in danger. Cersei will undoubtedly use all her time to drive a rift between them and that thought is enough for his hand to clench, rage replacing what's meant to be sorrow.

Tywin's body rests with hand-painted stones on top of his eyes. As Jaime presides over the body, Cersei walks next to him.

"I'm surprised your bitch of a bride isn't with you at such a time", she's masquerading her voice as if she's genuinely saddened, but Jaime can see through her charade. She's happy Tywin's dead. She's happy she can shit on his legacy.

"I wanted to be alone. She actually cares about what I want, unlike you", Jaime remarks, bitter about losing his moment of solitude that was meant to be time for him to collect his thoughts. "I'm trying to protect his legacy. What he built. The towers. He built it for us. He meant it for us. They're going to try to take it away, all of it." Jaime swallows thickly, feeling bile rising at the back of his throat. 

Too many funerals have painted his skies a darker shade. Nothing seems as golden as it once was, not even him. The old him is creeping up on him, whispering how all of it began since he had went up North with Robert, since he met Rosalie. 

Ever since she came into his life, it all fell apart. He's not the same man he was when they met and maybe that's a good thing, but did he choose this? To be a crippled, grieving man who is distancing himself from his family and his name, who is begging a woman who loves another to love him back? 

Will she ever love him? Can he truly live the rest of his days without her loving him?

It would be so easy to slip back into his old skin and be the arrogant, golden lion Rosalie despised. It would be so easy to hide behind Cersei, to lose himself with her. It's not right, but Jaime's not sure if he cares anymore.

"They?" Cerise narrows her eyes at Jaime, waiting for him to clarify, to name their enemies so she can destroy them.

"They're waiting a night to make sure he's really dead and as soon as they see the stones on his eyes they'll set to work on tearing us apart." Jaime sighs, looking away from his father's body. 

"They had nothing to do with it. The man who murdered our father, he tore us apart, he's the enemy. I've been telling you for years, you've been defending him for years..." Cersei's nostrils flare as Jaime rolls his eyes.

"This is exactly what they want."

"...and now our father is dead. And that little monster is out there somewhere drawing breath. Did your whore set him free?"

"I did." Jaime corrects her, his breathing quicker.

"Tyrion may be a monster but at least he killed our father on purpose. You killed him by mistake. With stupidity. You're a man of action, aren't you? When it occurs to you to do something you do it, never mind the consequences." Shaking her head, Cersei wets her lips. "Take a look." She gestures towards Tywin, "Look at the consequences. Here they are. He loved you more than anyone in this world."

Cersei kisses Tywin on the head, "Maybe I should pray you love Rosalie as he loved you. That would certainly save me the trouble of killing her myself." Smirking, she steps back as Jaime nears her. 

"If you harm a hair on her head, you'll find yourself in the sept along with our dear father and Joffrey." Jaime's threat leaves him breathing heavily while Cersei raises her eyebrow as if he's challenged her. 

"I suppose we'll see then, won't we?"

Rosalie Tyrell 

I couldn't sleep last night. The news of Tywin's passing had shaken Jaime to the core. They've come for him in the middle of the night and he had dragged himself out of our bed without so much as a word. I wanted to comfort him, to hold his hand during the worst day of his life but he had shaken his head, kissed my forehead and left.