An Honest Woman | Female Jaime Lannister | GOT/ASOIAF

Epilogue

310AC

Jaime had visited Storm's End often over the years. The great castle had once been her permanent home, and she its lady. That felt like an age ago, though couldn't have been more than twelve years. 

Things were very different now. Her son was Lord Baratheon, not her husband, and made for a very different lord indeed. Arthur had turned three-and-twenty this year, and though he was far more mature than he was when he first become lord in the wake of Joffrey's death, he was still wild and reckless at heart.

Being hailed a hero had done nothing for his ego, unfortunately. The boy always laughed at that, joking with his mother that he was keeping up the family tradition; she had slain one king, he had slain another. Jaime always retorted with a grin that Aegon was not a proper king, nor even a proper Targaryen, just another Blackfyre pretender.

No, the glory of killing the true Targaryen queen - the one with dragons, fire and blood - had gone to Eddard Stark's bastard son, of all people. But that was too long a story to get into now. If she started on Daenerys Targaryen and the man whom some whispered was Rhaegar's secret bastard, she would have to go into that whole mess with the Three-Eyed Raven and the bloody Others rising again with their armies of dead men. Jaime had no desire to bring up such dark memories; her daughter was getting married today, after all.

Argella was her seventh child to wed. Gods, that made her feel old; she was old, she supposed, at five-and-forty. Jaime had eleven grandchildren now, a fact that still disturbed her, particularly as there would likely be twice that in the future. Gods, she was turning into Walder Frey.

Orryn had his Queen Margaery, of course. They were in attendance at Storm's End in all their royal glory, along with Princess Jocelyn and the two young princes, Stannis and Rogar. Her son was a good king, despite the complaints of the late Lord Tywin - who Jaime was not used to referring to as such, even a year after his death - that he cared too much what people thought of him and sought to please people unneccessarily. 

Perhaps that was true, but Orryn was a strong, capable and fair king, made even more popular by his wife. If anyone was born to be queen, it was Margaery Tyrell. Jaime had realised years ago that the mask the woman wore was no real mask at all, but a genuine side of her personality that she could switch to as easily as blinking. 

To the kingdoms, the queen was beautiful, charming, clever and above all, kind. She had sponsered many charitable programmes in King's Landing and beyond, and paid regular visits into the city to interact with the smallfolk. Whilst Orryn was tied to the capital most of the time, Margarey would go on an annual progress most years, often bringing along one or two of her children, to a different area of Westeros to speak with not only the lords and ladies but the farmers, merchants and tradesmen as well. 

Of course, Jaime was (dare she say) friends with Margaery, and knew that the woman had a sharp wit and wicked sense of humour, and was not above complaining about various courtiers, though never to anyone but her most trusted.

She could see the queen now, stood off to the side with Helia, the two of them conversing together. There was no sign of Jaime's daughter's wretched Tully husband. Wretched in Jaime eyes, not those of his wife, that was. Whilst Edmure and Helia's marriage was often tinged with exasperation, bickering and sniping comments, she had to admit there was a certain fondness between them now. The two were friends, at least. Something had to have been there to produce their four children; Arron, Hoster, Mara and Minisa.

Helia wasn't quite as beloved as Margaery. Her husband was the one with the bleeding heart. In fact, Jaime recalled the moment Helia had started to come around to Edmure was when she discovered that, against the advice of the Blackfish, Lady Catelyn and Robb Stark, he had let the nearby smallfolk shelter from the Lannister army within the castle walls. Lord Tully was loved by his people, whilst his lady was respected. Helia often ended up doing a considerable portion of his lord's work, when the man himself could not be bothered; there was enough of her grandfather in her that she rather enjoyed it.