Chapter Text
They had made good time. Even with landing in Duskendale yesterday and choosing to go overland from there to avoid the expected crush and delay at Blackwater Roads was not going to put them behind schedule. At Duskendale, at least, they could moor the ships directly to the main docks which made unloading cargo, especially the horses. much easier.
*It is a good thing I delegated arranging everything to Kevan,* Tywin thought as they put the city behind them. *We need not bring a wheelhouse, even if such would have not been more trouble than it was worth, when several carriages and carts with their horses and drivers would be waiting for us here. Likewise his factor booked the inn rooms in Duskendale that we would need to accommodate everyone overnight and I do not mind at all that the man paid them for the week not knowing quite when we would arrive. No matter how short a respite, it was worth every copper.*
He turned in his saddle to look back at the cavalcade, pleased at the impressive showing of Lannister pride and wealth. Seeing Jaime dressed in a Lannister surcote and armor with lions prominently displayed riding next to the carriage Jeyne, her mother, and Genna were ensconced in made him want to grin like a madman because everything was finally going very much the way he wanted. Looking at them he beheld nearly everything he had planned for, until Aerys took Jaime from him. *And look where you are now, madman. Reduced to bones in a crypt, while I and Jaime are still here among the living.*
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They had stopped overnight at Rosby, five days after leaving Duskendale, whose lord, thankfully, was already gone to attend Court: Jaime remembered old Lord Rosby from his last life and he had been a boot-lick at the best of times.
The small keep and ward at Rosby had at least afforded them better accommodations than any of the inns they had stayed at in-between. From here the road was even better kept than between Rosby and Duskendale so they would be able to pick up the pace and Jaime very much was looking forward to that. Wazo; the palfrey he was riding, was a delight, but by now he was surprisingly tired of seeing fields of barley and wheat and oats, punctuated by orchards, copses and hedgerows, fields of sheep or cows, and small well-kept villages. The last war had not impacted them here in the main just as the next one, or two, if you counted Greyjoy’s Rebellion, had not in his last life.
Back in the train Honor along with other coursers and destriers were being led to keep them ‘fresh’ for the tourney that Stannis had been convinced to throw in honor of his wedding. Jaime could only imagine how difficult that conversation had been since the man, at least in their last life, had looked down on anything his brother Robert had favored. *Perhaps in this life he won’t be quite the killjoy,* he thought as Willas and Tyrion went racing past on the verge.
*Not that I am looking forward to the great stinking city, but I am looking forward to staying in Lion’s Den again,* Jaime thought to himself as they disappeared up toward the front of the column. He was pleased that Tyrion now practically seemed to be stuck to his saddle the same way Willas often seemed to be. They had both been good as gold the whole trip: following Sandor’s direction while performing all the chores expected of pages and attending on Jeyne and her mother when they stopped each night so he was inclined to ignore their youthful exuberance otherwise.
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The days between Rosby and King’s Landing was an increasing trial for Jaime’s senses. Even with the prevailing winds at their back he could increasingly smell the city they were approaching and he found it very hard to regulate his sense of smell and taste enough to offset it. Diluted oil of mint liberally applied around his nose helped, but not enough to eliminate the underlying stench, and even after a few days the oil was starting to irritate his skin. They would need to find a substitute sooner than he had expected. But it was not enough for him to ride in the carriage with Jeyne. Even if they both knew he could weather such things better in her presence, he could not hold her hand every moment of every day.
But, as they came within sight of the city something changed. As they swung wide around the city to join the Gold Road, the smell and taste of the city were suddenly bearable; not completely gone, but relegated to the background somehow. And, almost as if to compensate, his hearing and sight sharpened and it took until they were riding into Lion’s Den before he could regulate them to something close to ‘normal’. Jaime could only be grateful that his sense of touch had not followed suit because he had had experienced several hours on the way here where even the lightest and most worn linen shirt was unbearable and he would not ever recommend that experience, especially since they had not worked out what had caused it. Or caused it to go away as suddenly as it appeared.
As he handed Jeyne and then her mother out of the carriage and then accepted the cat carrier from Adara, Jaime was taking in the whole of the place and trying not to wrinkle his nose too much because every part of it now seemingly had a faint whiff of Cersei. As if she had deliberately scent-marked the place in a way that put both Pye and Pearl to shame. *I can only hope that she did not manage to get into our rooms...* With that in mind he had a quiet word with Wyot and Jace who had accompanied them, sending them up to at least air out the suite if it was not already being done, and to strip the bed but not remake it. Wyot, who had been there the last time Cersei had gotten into his suite here just nodded and he knew they would do their best.
After greeting Kevan and Dorna, and seeing that Genna was supervising the offloading of their things, Jaime was pleased not to be dragged into any sort of meeting by his father, although he was sure there was a family meal planned for that evening. But before that he and Jeyne needed to look over the suite, make sure the boys were settling in and send a messenger to the Tyrell holding to arrange for Willas to spend the wedding with his family before he returned to Highgarden as Willas’ first trip home had been arranged for convenience. Jaime had no expectations that the Tyrells would not at least attempt to keep the boy for the several moons until his tenth nameday and Jaime was of a mind to let them since it was very likely that if he did not Willas would either have to be dropped off at Old Town or nearly immediately embark on a ship going south from Lannisport anyway. *It will not hurt him to be away from Casterly Rock for some time, especially if it is a means to regularize his future visits home.*
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Jaime did not have to see Pye and Pearl’s reactions upon entering the small suite to know something was not right and he stalked through the rooms before ever letting Jeyne or the servants with their baggage into the space.
“Change the featherbed and pillows,” Jaime said tersely to Wyot after only a few moments standing in the bedchamber. “Use the ones we brought with us,” he added, knowing they would not smell of Cersei, at least not yet. “Use the linens we brought too, and replace the hangings.” He kept his tone level when what he really wanted to do was punch something. *How in the seven hells did she get in here? Who did she bribe? Or threaten? What did she promise them?* “Change the outer lock. Again.”
When Jace and Wyot left with the hangings, featherbed and pillows, he took Jeyne in his arms and unabashedly used her scent and touch to ground him because he knew this was deliberate. None of the rugs smelled of Cersei, nor anything in the small solar: the scent was only on and around their bed.
“She is trying to get to you,” Jeyne murmured. “How certain are we that she does not have any of the gifts?”
“I don’t think she does now, if she ever had the potential before. She has already done ill to too many: surely whoever or whatever gifted them to us would not allow it,” he told her, but in his mind he was not so sure.
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*Home, for now,* Tyrion thought to himself, taking in the shallow two tier steps next to the bed, and the raised step up around the cupboard, both of which had not been there the last time. But, when he tested it, the bed was as comfortable as he remembered and the table and chair now in the room, while clearly new, were well made and to his measure. His trunks sat along the wall next to the door ready to be unpacked and Tyrion took out the fresh outfit he had been saving for after their arrival and headed for the baths, hoping to catch Jace on the way to make sure his things were all put away to his preference.
*Some bread and cheese and table grapes perhaps?* He thought as he heard his stomach rumble: breakfast had been a long time ago, after all.
Not surprisingly Sandor and Willas had the same idea so they went down together, only to have to flatten themselves against the wall to allow Cersei and several older women Tyrion had never seen before to pass them. Cersei, he noted, shot him a venomous look before she pushed past, and he was quite glad that by the next turn of the moon he would be safely on his way back to Casterly Rock and she would be stuck here. But he refused to let her ruin his good mood and soon he was ensconced in one of the tubs soaking his aches away, nibbling enough to please his stomach, and listening to the banter of both his fellows and the servants.
*You can get a good feel for a place, listening to servants’ gossip when they don’t think they’ll be overheard,* he thought as he tried not to appear to be listening. *They’ve an odd sort of ‘relief’ in their voices, something I’d never have expected with Father in residence. What has Cersei been up to?*
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While Kevan’s reports were somewhat concerning, having the entire family together was both pleasurable and annoying at the same time, Tywin decided as the rest of the family dispersed after the meal they had just shared.
He could hear Kevan telling Genna about the feast that had been planned for the next day as they left, but what he was really concerned with was Cersei. *Clearly Kevan’s reports have not done justice to my daughter’s moods.* During the meal he had watched Cersei stare daggers across the table, at, he believed, Jeyne who sat between Jaime and Tyrion. Jaime, he noted, had alternated between stretches of pointedly ignoring his twin and moments of staring daggers at her and it made him wonder what could possibly have happened in the relatively short time since their arrival.
*And I might find that out sooner than expected,* he thought to himself as he found Jaime lingering by the door as everyone else left the chamber. When his son closed the door and then locked it, Tywin pointedly finished off the wine in his goblet and poured himself more before offering to do the same for Jaime, who shook his head, took a breath, let it out, and it was clear his son wanted to pace but the furniture in the room made that difficult.
“What did your sister do now?” he asked in a tone calculated to not add fuel to Jaime’s ire but only because it would take longer if Jaime became even more irate.
Jaime huffed and gestured in the direction if the upper floors of the keep, completely unable to even try to hide his irritation now that it was just the two of them in the room. “She ‘scented’ my bed, Father. Jeyne’s bed. Not the rugs, not the other furniture, just…. Just the bed. The linens and featherbed and hangings were saturated with it. Wyot and Jace sorted it out but it was….”
“Deliberate.”
“I did not tell Jeyne but…” He looked both distressed and murderous for a moment. “She very clearly more than slept there, Father. And more than one night. At least since they received the raven you sent when we landed at Duskendale.”
It took a moment for him to actually parse that. “Was she alone?”
“What? Yes. Of course she was. Oh. You don’t think….” Jaime looked even more appalled than he himself felt. “No. No. No one else’s musk was there. But what was there was bad enough.”
“Kevan clearly did not take my words to heart.”
“He may have, but he cannot be everywhere and somehow she got a copy of the key I left with the stewards or ‘convinced’ someone to let her in. I have Wyot quietly asking about…”
*I knew I should have told him to lock her in each night.* “Keep Jeyne close,” he said, after forcing his mind to address practicalities. “A food tester in addition to Wyl might be a good idea. You cannot be with your wife every moment, Jaime.”
“I do not want her to feel besieged….” Jaime began, his irritation giving way to obvious dismay.
He would have once harshly chided a younger Jaime about wearing his emotions so openly, but clearly tonight his son had been pushed too far already. “Do not let your sister see she has gotten to you. More than she has already seen.”
Jaime gave him a sharp nod, took a couple of deep breaths and he could practically see him putting on the mental armor he would need to get through the next few weeks.
“I’ll make sure the locks to your chambers are changed tomorrow,” Tywin told him. “She will not have a second chance.” *And soon she will be safely wed: no longer our problem. If Stannis is as intelligent as I think he is he will mew her up and ring her ‘round with those who will not help her just because she is his Queen.*
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“Jai-me…” Cersei drawled seductively.
Once the sound of her voice and the scent of her a would have gone straight to his cock. Now he just stopped on the stairs and glared up at her. She was more than a little drunk: more so than she had been at the end of the meal they had all shared, and blocking his access to the family floor. He almost asked her if she ‘enjoyed’ desecrating his bed, but at the last moment kept that question behind his teeth. He decided to wait her out to see what she would say. As he leaned against the outer curved wall of the stairs and crossed his arms, he took in what she was wearing, which would barely be nightwear appropriate for a rather daring Dornishwoman in the height of a Summer year than a Westerlander soon to be Queen.
When she did not say anything more, just ‘posed’ there at the top of the stairs as if this was not only normal but the location far more private, he finally shook his head and went up the last few steps and pushed past her. When she put her hand on his shoulder he turned on her. “You are insane, Cersei.”
That seemed to confuse her for some reason, almost as if she had no idea why he was reacting this way and against his better judgement he paused and faced her fully. “After what you had those boys try to do to Tyrion,” he began, knowing he could not admit that he knew what she had left behind for him to find in his bedchamber.
That seemed to confuse her. “What… which boys.”
“Kerr and Smallwood. Father had the oldest three of your little gang hanged here, if you remember. Well, Kerr and Smallwood were two of the younger ones. They had been left behind at Casterly Rock. Not long before we left to come here they were slow-strangled after trying to drown our brother. If there are any others out there sniffing after you like you were a bitch in heat I rec…”
She went to slap him, but he caught her hand and applied just enough pressure so she would know he could break her hand or her arm if he wished.
“Do not think that any others you might suborn would not suffer the same fate, ‘dear’ sister.” with that he released her and stalked off toward his chambers, knowing that if he stayed he might just shove her down the stairs. And he might enjoy it. No matter how much trouble it might cause, he might very much enjoy it and that shook him to the core.
*What sort of monster…* He resisted shaking his head only because he knew she was staring after him. But he knew what sort of monster he was. No matter what he told himself, or what he promised himself he would do or not do in this life, or if, last time, he had apologized or even if he had been the hand through which some higher power had acted, he was still the same man who had not thought twice before shoving a boy out a window.
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Jeyne watched Jaime stalk into their solar and a glance at Adara and Hazel sent them out of the room, dipping moving curtseys to Jaime as they passed him and shutting the door as they left.
She rose and almost went to him, but his emotions were like a storm at sea, so she waited for him to come to her. When he wrapped her in his arms and buried his nose in the juncture of her neck and shoulder, she let herself wrap around him fully, barely understanding his mumbled ‘I’m sorry’ and something about ‘that person’ even as their connection flared. She was able to calm him in stages until finally they were on the padded bench before the small fire, his head in what remained of her lap, ear pressed against her belly; clearly listening to the child she carried.
It came as no surprise to her that the first word out of his mouth after a long pause where he listened and she stroked his hair was ‘Cersei’ as if that explained everything, which she supposed it did.
“Do I want to know?”
He groaned and covered his face for a moment with his hands. “She thinks… she thinks she still has me wrapped around her finger,” he said after a long moment where he scrubbed at his face and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Taking his hands away he looked up at her. “And I realized…. I haven’t changed nearly as much as I’d hoped.”
Before she could do more than raise an eyebrow he continued: “I don’t feel anything but anger toward her now,” he clarified. “I could have cheerfully shoved her down the stairs. Just now. Consequences be damned.”
*Oh.* That completely changed how she interpreted his emotions as she remembered what he had admitted doing in his last life. “You are not the monster you think you are,” she told him. “Or you would have acted, not just thought about it.” That was not just practical, it was the truth. “We are both not the same people we were before we met,” she told him. “And we are both still learning what we are to become. Something I think will be a long term, even life-long project. But your sister is her own worst enemy. She does not recognize the fire she is playing with as she has tried, repeatedly, to entice you.”
“And failed.”
“And will keep failing. Because she is not what you want now.”
He sighed and sat up, turning to face her, still slightly upset, but offering her a fond smile. “You, my wife, are all I want. All I need. And nothing she can do will change that.” He rose to his feet and offered her his hands. “Come, my wife….”