Return of The Dragons Chapter 30 (A True Kingsguard) (Patreon)

Jaime Lannister

It had been a week now that he heard his sister with someone else, the golden lion of House Lannister always knew he was a handsome man, many women had offered themselves to him, but Jaime never had his eyes for any of them but only for one, despite what some might think Jaime loved Cersei, at least that's what he had thought.

After that day, staying anywhere close to her felt like being close to the Mad King all over again; her passionate green eyes didn't remind him of home, not of green grass in fields but of Wildfire.

The Kingslayer knew everyone with eyes could see something was amiss with him, but at this point, he didn't much care; no, I don't Care about Anything Anymore, Jaime shouted on his head, barely keeping his temper in check.

The only ones who would care about his well-being weren't here now; Tyrion was busy going god knows where; Jaime wanted to kick himself in the balls for not going to The Wall with him; everything would have been alright, Cersei would still...

Jaime stopped his thoughts; he didn't know why he was telling himself that; the only difference would be that he wouldn't know Cersei never loved him, she never Loved Me, Jaime repeated.

The Kingslayer must have been so distracted and clearly not acting like a King's Guard that even Lord Stark asked if anything was alright with him.

Jaime had been both surprised and annoyed; he had almost shouted at him to mind his own business.

Robert didn't really notice it, but Jaime couldn't remember the last time he noticed anything but wine and a woman's cunt.

Right now, Jaime couldn't help but fill another glass with wine; it was the middle of the night; he remembered many times when Cersei sneaked inside his White Chamber; they would have a night of passion declaring their love for each other many times during the night.

As he drank, Jaime couldn't help but remember when they were little children playing games and little games...

That day was just too sunny to stay inside, and besides, Cersei was bored. She refused the cloak Septa Antone offered with a sweet smile that was full of guile and less than innocent and ignored the men at arms who followed her around like a group of puppies.

"Lady, you cannot go unprotected," Ser Carter told her, tiredly as he repeated it for the umpteenth time.

"I will not be unprotected, Ser," she told him impatiently. "I am going to see my brother."

The knight sighed and contented himself with keeping a distant eye on her as she crossed the courtyard, passed the sept and made for the training field.

Jaime was on his palfrey, smiling wickedly down at the boy he'd just dismounted for the fourth time.

"When are you going to give up, Cyrus?" The boy sighed, and stood, laboriously, before he bowed to Jaime. "As you bid, my lord," he told him, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Jaime's jab was interrupted with Cersei's crystalline laughter, and he turned to face her as he dismissed his opponent with only a light wave of the hand. "Sweet sister," he said as he dismounted. "What brings you here?"

She smiled, mischievously and came closer, too close for comfort. "Can't I simply want to see my dear brother?" Jaime's eyes glazed a little for her closeness, and he swallowed. "Of course. You can see me whenever you want to."

She reached, twined her hand in his hair, a gesture innocent in appearance, that she'd done many times before, but it suddenly felt sinful. "I'm glad," she whispered, for his ears alone. "Because I want to see you as much as I can."

Jaime coughed, a little. "Walk with me?" It should have been a command, but it was not. "Take your armor off first," she told him, uncompromisingly.

He reddened for no good reason and went off to do just that. When he came back to the field, she was sitting on a ball of hay, but she stood almost immediately.

"Good. You look better," she told him, appreciatively. "Look what I have," she showed him, palm outstretched.

It was a small toy they'd about, argued over and over when they were little, though Jaime always caved in and let Cersei have it. His eyebrows lifted, and he said, curtly, "Give me that."

Cersei laughed and sprinted out of reach – her feet were light and her strides were as long as her twin brother's. He started after her, running, and it was the obsessive training that gave him the upper hand. Laughing, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Laughing, they tumbled in a pile of hay, and laughing, she came up on top, unsurprisingly. Her body was too close for comfort and too far for comfort all at once.

He was only fourteen, and his body responded to her closeness before he realized what it meant. Her lips edged that wicked smile he knew well, and she leaned in, wriggling her hips against him. "Oh, sweet brother, what have we here?"

He blushed, stuttered something both ineffectual and useless... and suddenly his hands were in her hair, and her lips were on his. The kiss was not tender, but savage and hungry, practiced as if Cersei had rehearsed it countless times. Jaime endured it, became assertive as the kiss continued, until his sister broke it, abruptly, leaving him breathless and achingly aroused.

"Can I keep the toy, now?" She asked, sweetly, like a kitten, almost.

All he could do was nod. For him, Cersei had simply negated the existence of the word 'no'.

Years Later

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Serving in the Kingsguard was supposed to be an honor. The greatest honor that the King could bestow on any knight. It wasn't supposed to be the horror that it had turned out to be. Jaime wasn't supposed to stand by and watch as a madman committed one atrocity after another. It was nothing like the songs. Nothing like what he thought. He had wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne. Little did he know what that really meant – what the Sword of the Morning was forced to do for his King.

When he received the white cloak at Harrenhal – the sun warming his skin, his new brothers standing in a line of gleaming white behind him, and hearing the roar of the crowd – Jaime had not cared that he was giving up Casterly Rock. It has been the proudest moment of his life. Better than winning any tourney.

I never dreamed how quick the sweet would turn to sour. Aerys would not even let me savor that one night. He honored me, and then he spat on me.

By then it was too late. He had taken the vows. He had done as Cersei asked – blinded by his love and passion for her. After that night spent making love to her at an inn in Flea Bottom, Jaime had been desperate to be by her side forever. Neither had not expected Lord Tywin to take Cersei and return to the Rock when he heard that King Aerys had stolen his heir.

We should have known that Father would not stand idly by and allow anyone to take his heir.

He had not expected to be abandoned in the Capitol. He had not known that night of passion with Cersei would be the last for a very long time.

Now he listened to another kind of passion. King Aerys had a passion for fire and blood. A passion so strong, that it turned to violence. To madness. The Kingsguard knew everything about the King they served. Relations between Aerys and his queen had been strained. They slept apart and did their best to avoid each other when awake. But whenever Aerys gave a man to the flames, Queen Rhaella would have a visitor during the night.

The last time it happened, Jaime and Jon Darry had stood guard outside the Queen's bedchamber, whilst the King took his pleasure.

"You're hurting me," they had heard Rhaella cry through the oaken door. "You're hurting me."

To Jaime, that had been worse than the screams of the men he burned. Never in his ten and six years had Jaime heard such things – never had he heard such pain and terror. Every fiber of his being shook with a desire to protect the Queen.

How could these men – these men that boys across the Realm admired and wanted to become one day - just stand there doing nothing?

These were the bravest men in the Realm – the heroes of the songs – and they simply stood by while the Queen they were sworn to protect was brutalized. We swore to protect the Queen. We swore to protect the weak and the innocent. We are breaking our vows.

"We are sworn to protect her," Jaime had finally been driven to say.

"We are," Darry allowed, "but not from him."

Jaime had heard the Queen's maids whispering the next day. They said the queen looked as if some beast had savaged her, clawing at her thighs and chewing on her breasts.

A crowned beast.

Jaime's had much time to ponder the relationship between the Targaryen king and his queen. That they were brother and sister held a certain interest to Jaime. He couldn't help putting himself and Cersei in their places. Jaime knew that he would never do anything to hurt Cersei. He would never cause her to scream in pain and would kill any man who did. Jaime loved her more than anything – she was both his sister and his lover. He couldn't fathom ever hurting her as Aerys hurt Queen Rhaella.

Standing outside the Queen's door was when he started to go away inside – shutting himself off from the horrors and thinking of something pleasant. Going somewhere pleasant. It happened more and more as he served Aerys. The King would commit these atrocities and Jaime would spend more and more time shut off from it all, disappearing inside his head.

Jaime knew that today would be no different. Weeks earlier, Brandon Stark rode into the Red Keep with his companions, shouting for Prince Rhaeger to come out and die. But Rhaeger wasn't there. Only Aerys. The gold cloaks had been sent out to arrest them all for plotting his son's murder. Jaime had grown anxious as the time passed. These were lords' sons, and they were being kept in the black cells, while their fathers had been summoned to court to answer the charge of treason. When their fathers arrived, it only grew worse.

Lord Rickard Stark demanded a trial by combat and Aerys agreed. Jaime wished he could have told him there would be no point. He should never have come. Lord Stark armored himself for battle, no doubt thinking he would duel one of the Kingsguard. Perhaps me. But that was not to be the case.

Jaime glanced up at the Warden of the North suspended from the rafters of the throne room while two of Aerys' pyromancers kindled a blaze beneath him.

"Fire will be the champion of House Targaryen!" the King screamed.

Jaime carefully looked around the crowded room at the members of the court, wondering if anyone was going to say or do anything. How is Lord Rickard to prove himself innocent of treason? By not burning? Everyone stood there watching as the fire began to blaze and then Brandon Stark was brought in from the dungeons. His hands were chained behind his back and around his neck was a wet leathern cord. Jaime watched as the cord was attached to a device the King had commissioned from Jaime knew not where. His legs were left free, though, and his longsword was set down just beyond his reach. Jaime watched mutely as the pyromancers roasted Lord Rickard slowly, banking and fanning the fire carefully to get an even heat. His cloak caught first, and then his surcoat and soon he wore nothing but metal and ashes.

"Next your father will start to cook," the King promised. "Unless, you can free him. There is your sword. Free him."

Brandon tried, but the more he struggled, the tighter the cord constricted around his throat. Jaime felt himself losing control at the injustice of it all. But what could he do? He turned to the other men in the Kingsguard – those who had not fled with Prince Rhaeger – but they merely stood and watched. Jaime wanted to do something, but he knew that if he tried to help, he'd be strung up over the flames and roasted alive himself.

Cersei needs you. You can't die here – not like this. Go away inside.

Jaime was safest – and happiest – when he was with Cersei. She always told him that they were two halves of the same person – even when they were little. Ever since he came to King's Landing – ever since he was separated from her – Jaime had come to believe that was true. He'd never felt so scared and out of sorts as he had since joining the Kingsguard.

He thought of how beautiful Cersei was – with her sparkling green eyes, her flowing blonde hair and her golden skin. Everything about her was so like him, and so familiar. So safe. Cersei was his home. He knew her so well, that he could remember how her skin smelled and how soft her skin felt beneath his fingers.

A scream rang out and Jaime started, looking around the Throne Room.

Brandon Stark's face had turned purple and his eyes bulged from his head. Jaime quickly looked away, knowing that he was dead. He knew he would do no less were it his own father – or Cersei – that he were trying to save. Jaime saw that Lord Rickard's armor was turning red from the heat of the flames and the gold on his spurs had begun to melt.

Five hundred men are here and no one is doing anything as the Lord of Winterfell slowly roasts in his armor.

Jaime fought his instincts and took a breath and forced himself back to Cersei. He thought about the night he and Cersei had spent at the Inn in Flea Bottom. The night she had convinced him to come to this god-forsaken place in service of Aerys Targaryen.

She came to him dressed as a common peasant girl. He still didn't know why it had aroused him so that she came to him that way. Simple and unadorned. They had not seen one another for many months – Sumner Crakehall had kept him busy, sending him to Riverrun all too frequently. But as soon as Cersei's lips touched his, Jaime knew that he was home. He was whole.

As their clothes began to fall away, Jaime had frozen at the sight of her body. At the sight of the curves she'd developed that had not been there the last time they were together. He hesitantly reached out to cup one of her breasts in his hand, feeling the weight of it and brushing his thumb over her nipple. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever beheld. And she was his. His sweet sister.

Cersei was running her fingers over his chest and arms – her eyes following her hands - and Jaime was proud of the muscles he'd developed on the practice grounds during their time apart. Jaime noticed the way that the girls looked at him – the way the Tully girls had looked at him during the fortnight he'd spent at Riverrun. Cersei looked at him that way now. Jaime wondered if she still dreamed of wedding the Dragon Prince or if Jaime would now be enough for her.

Once they had thoroughly looked one another over, Cersei moved into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck as she kissed him and pressed her bare breasts against his chest.

"I've missed you, Jaime. I've dreamt of this for months," she murmured between kisses, moving her hand between their bodies to stroke his length through his breeches.

Jaime gasped and, unable to control himself, pushed Cersei back onto the bed, kissing her thoroughly before standing beside the bed to remove his breeches and smallclothes. He watched her as he disrobed – lying there naked and his for the taking. When he was bare, he met Cersei's eyes and saw the same desire he felt mirrored there. Cersei was no shy maid and she boldly looked at his nude body, making no effort to disguise her interest in his cock. She held out her hand to him and Jaime climbed onto the bed, settling himself between her thighs.

"You're more beautiful that I remember," he whispered, nuzzling against her and kissing the shell of her ear. Cersei arched beneath him, her hands moving over his bare skin.

"You have a man's body now, Jaime," she whispered, pushing him forcefully enough to put him on his back and straddle him. He moved his hands to her hips, holding her still as he bucked his hips up to rub his cock against her. She smiled and leaned over, kissing him and bringing her tantalizing breasts to rub against his chest, before sitting up again and allowing him to explore her body with his hands and eyes. "I can't be the only one to have noticed, Jaime."

He raised an eyebrow in question and reluctantly tore his gaze away from the fullness of her breasts.

"Have you been with another? All these months apart...Those Tully girls must have offered."

Jaime smirked and flipped her onto her back, pressing her down with his weight. "Jealous?" he asked teasingly. She stared into his eyes and wrapped her legs around his waist. Jaime groaned at the feel of the heat and wetness of her against his cock. They both moaned in pleasure as he entered her – as two became one.

"Do you love me, Jaime?"

"I love you more than anything," he ground out as he withdrew and thrust into her again. "There's only ever been you." He spoke the truth. Jaime knew there would never be anyone for him but his sister. His perfect sister. "There will only ever be you."

Jaime realized the screams had grown louder as the flesh began to fall off Lord Stark's legs. The smell was unbearable and Jaime wanted nothing more than to leave King's Landing forever. To take back the vows he had made before he knew the truth.

I don't want to be here. I want to go home – to the Rock. To Cersei.

Jaime fought the urge to cry and forced his eyes to unfocus so he wouldn't see the carnage before him. He imagined Cersei's arms around him, holding him and comforting him.

"I'm with you, Jaime. I love you."

He imagined tucking his face against her neck and smelling her scent, as her hand gently stroked his hair and his back. More than anything, he wanted the comfort of holding his sister in his arms. Cersei couldn't abide weakness, but in his mind, she held him as he shook and cried for the Queen and for the Starks. And for himself. She kissed the top of his head and murmured words of comfort in his ear as he buried his face against her breasts as he cried for the boy that he had been – the boy who believed in songs and knights and brave men who protected the innocent.

Jaime had believed that his dreams were just beginning to come true when he took the vows. Now he realized that by then, his dreams were almost over.

' He saw them too. They were armored all in snow, it seemed to him, and ribbons of mist swirled back from their shoulders. The visors of their helms were closed, but Jaime Lannister did not need to look upon their faces to know them.

Five had been his brothers. Oswell Whent and Jon Darry. Lewyn Martell, a prince of Dorne. The White Bull, Gerold Hightower. Ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning. And beside them, crowned in mist and grief with his long hair streaming behind him, rode Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone and rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

"You don't frighten me," he called, turning as they split to either side of him. He did not know which way to face. "I will fight you one by one or all together."

"You swore an oath to keep them safe," Rhaegar said.

"We all swore oaths," said Ser Arthur Dayne, so sadly.

The shades dismounted from their ghostly horses. When they drew their longswords, it made not a sound. "He was going to burn the city," Jaime said. "To leave The City only ashes."

"You swore to keep them safe," said Whent.

"Elia and the children, them as well," said Prince Lewyn.

Prince Rhaegar burned with a cold light, now white, now red, now dark. "I left my wife and children in your hands."

"I never thought he'd hurt them." Jaime's sword was burning less brightly now. "I was with the king . . ."

The fires that ran along the blade were guttering out, and Jaime remembered what Cersei had said. No. Terror closed a hand about his throat. Then his sword went dark as the ghosts came rushing in.

"If you're a Kingsguard, you will do the Right Thing" '

Jaime opened his eyes from the sound of the door; someone was knocking on it.

"Ser Jaime, is time to wake up" Jaime felt like an elephant was stepping on him, his head hurting like never before; he felt like something was slowly piercing his skull and destroying his brain, a hammer hitting his head repeatedly.

"I'm Coming. Stop" Jaime shouted, not being able to handle the sound of the door; he looked around, finding the cup smashed on the floor, little pieces underneath the table and some even close to his bed, the table slightly red from wine, and some had dripped into the carpet.

Jaime sighed, trying to remember what had happened last night but decided to just forget about it the next second.

His clothes were everywhere around the room; before wearing them, he shake them a little to make sure no piece of glass was anywhere in it.

Jaime wore his armor; looking at himself, he didn't see a golden knight in shining armor. Jaime wasn't sure what he saw anymore.

Leaving the chamber, he silently walked towards the Throne Room; perhaps things could get better; how much Jaime wished his brother was here right now...

The thought alone reminded him of Prince Jon; he suddenly stopped walking, remembering the prince.

Perhaps there was still hope of serving a rightful king; at that moment, Jaime hoped that Tyrion would return with the prince in King's Landing; it had been far too long since he served his rightful King.

I will keep my promise, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen...