A Tale of Stolen Blades and Stolen Hearts

Chapter 6: You Play To Win

Ned had finally discovered the truth Jon died for, that the Royal children of Robert were not his, but Jamie's, (Y/n) had refused to accept this truth, but he could only go to once source.. Cersei.

Silence was in the bedchamber, as (Y/n) had his back to Cersei. The candles dimly lit the room as night had fallen. He couldn't force himself to eye her, especially as he's thinking.

"Is it true?"

"Any of your father's horrendous lies? Obviously not—"

"Are you and Uncle Jamie in love?" He turned to face her, for a moment he saw a look of surprise on Cersei, but she hid it under her guise. But she could see he knew something, how much she couldn't deny.. but could only admit to the base of it. Lounging softly in her chair she eyed her nephew.

"The Targaryens wed brothers and sisters for 300 years to keep bloodlines pure. Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We shared a womb. We came into this world together. We belong together." She admits coyly, and (Y/n) remembers that Cersei and Jamie were oddly absent during Brans.. incident. (Y/n) folds his arms.

"Bran, he saw you with Uncle Jamie.. didn't he? It wasn't an accident.. was it?" He said, there was a long silence, Cersei either couldn't or refused to answer it. "If this is true.. do you hate the king that much?" He asked in disbelief, Cersei scoffs.

Hated him? I loved him! I worshiped him! Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of him, but he was mine by oath. And when I finally saw him on our wedding day in the Sept of Baelor, lean and fierce and black-bearded, it was the happiest moment of my life. Then that night he crawled on top of me, stinking of wine and did what he did, what little he could do, and whispered in my ear, "Lyanna". I knew in that moment, I could never compete with a fucking corpse..." Cersei showed her true rage for a moment, (Y/n) didn't feel anger, he felt., pity. Pity for his monstrous aunt.

"You truly did love him... no, you loved what you thought he was." He approached her, and gently knelt down to face his aunt. "A strong soldier, awful king..." he said and looked, for a time he saw her guard let down and a look of actual sadness on her face. "You have many assets over Lyanna, of course the magnificent cheekbones." He said in jest, a sly grin crept along her face. She hates it, but appreciates the compliment, something his father would say, hate or not. (Y/n) then spoke more sternly.. "but you must leave for casterly rock, Lord Stark knows... leave and return to grandfather, please. Advert this war." (Y/n) asks, Cersei grinned so, offputtingly, it was kind, kinder than usual. As if she, already had an idea.

"There will be no need for that.." she whispered.

And that was the last they spoke of if that night, because the next day, a much more dire situation had reared its head.

Robert. He laid upon his bed, his deathbed, holding the arm of his.. son. Joffrey wept for his father.

"I should have spent more time with you, shown you how to be a man. I was never meant to be a father." Robert wheezed, barely able to get the words out, Renly lead Ned into the chamber with Barristian, Cersei and the Maester.

"Go on. You don't want to see this." Robert said to his son, Joffrey left reluctantly and Ned approached the bed, seeing how weak and weary Robert looked.

"My fault....Too much wine. Missed my thrust." He explained, Ned gripped the end of the blanket to pull it up and saw a deep and blood gash in Robert's torso, a fatal wound.."

"It stinks. It stinks like death. Don't think I can't smell it." Robert said, "paid the bastard back, Ned. I drove my knife right through his brain. You ask them if I didn't. Ask them!" Robert somehow laughs at this, in his own demise in a cruel twist.