A Vow Without Honor

The Choice

Jaime

The day Joffrey was born had been the first time he'd seen Cersei well and truly terrified. Their mother, after all, had died in childbed, as had so many other women over the years, be they noble or common. It was one of the reasons he refused to leave her, even as the septas and nursemaids attempted to drive him from the room. He'd almost drawn his sword on them.

In the end, he'd had nothing to fear. The labor had gone as smoothly as it could have, and soon enough, Cersei held a swaddled babe, bright pink and bawling. But he'd calmed under his mother's touch, and she'd spoken such sweet words to him. Jaime had wondered if perhaps their mother had looked that way.

He'd felt it then, some emotion swelling in his gut, a mix of terror and pride and joy all at once. Nothing had come close to it before, not being with Cersei nor the day he'd been knighted. This was something unfamiliar to him, and yet he felt himself never wanting to let it go.

But he'd had to.

When they were alone, he'd asked to hold Joffrey, and Cersei had all but spat at him. Of course, he could not. Fathers hold their sons, and he was not his father, not truly. Robert was, and it was a ruse that they would have to keep up in its entirety. No secret meetings with the child when no one was watching; no familiarizing himself with the boy. He would be the inattentive uncle who could hardly care about his existence. Tyrion, as much as she hated him, had been given a better chance at a relationship.

But he had obeyed. Though he had been there for the births of Myrcella and Tommen as well, that feeling had not returned. It was buried deep underneath his sense of duty, just as he had done when the Mad King had ruled. Nothing mattered because it could not matter.

Now Jaime had no idea what did and did not matter, or where his emotions should be.

The children had stayed with them the next night and the one after, doing nothing in particular, just happy to be in their presence. Tommen had been given a quiet coronation, and had quickly retreated back to their chambers. With the investigations underway, no one had questioned it, him least of all. He was grateful, in part, to have nothing to do with them. Avoiding Cersei now was best for all parties involved.

Jaime and Myra had found themselves in bed with the children every night, usually because they had trouble sleeping, both the children and themselves. Sometime while they slept that particular night, Myrcella had found her way to him. She was still asleep now, curled up against him, the early morning light making her blonde curls glow. Beside her was Tommen, his arms outstretched above his head, a kitten asleep on his chest, snoring the morning away.

Myra was still asleep as well, her arm carefully draped over Tommen. How she'd been looking forward to the young boy coming with them, to regain perhaps some semblance of family, but as with everything in her life, the world had other plans.

Tommen would ask her to stay – how could he not? – and it would tear her apart inside.

Perhaps he could talk to the boy before he had the chance to, make him understand that staying in King's Landing was the worst thing that could happen to her.

Slowly, Jaime removed himself from the bed, making certain not to wake Myrcella, and stepped out of the room.

It was as empty, even bereft of servants, yet somehow, he found himself surprised by that. He expected the vultures to have already made their way in through the woodwork, but he did not doubt they were somewhere outside the door, lingering, waiting around corners with their false smiles and bloated compliments. They would launch themselves upon Tommen with no remorse, each determined to get their way from the little king, and he, being the kind boy that he was, would do his best to help each and every one of them.