The Wolf Of Casterly Rock | Lyanna Stark X Jaime Lannister | GOT/ASOIAF

The Wolf Of Casterly Rock

She was a fierce thing, for all her appearances at the ceremony. Jaime hadn't been sure what he'd been expecting from a girl whose kidnapping had sparked a rebellion that ended in the downfall of a dynasty, but whatever he imagined, Lyanna Stark wasn't it. She wasn't especially beautiful, considering how many great lords had gone to war for her, though she wasn't unattractive. Her dark curls, long face and grey eyes leant her a certain hard, wild northern beauty, but she couldn't even begin to compare to Cersei. It was likening a candle flame to the sun itself. However, Jaime really didn't care what his wife-to-be looked like; she wasn't his sister, she wasn't his other half, and never would be. For that reason, she would always be lacking.

The solemn, quiet girl he met the day before their wedding - held shortly after Robert and Cersei's - did not match up with the stories he'd heard of the she-wolf of Winterfell. His little wife's wild looks seemed somewhat strange when paired with her subdued personality. She spoke clearly but quietly, and though she repeated her courtesies, if a little coldly, she did not smile, nor did those words sound natural from her mouth. She was her brother Eddard in every respect, solemn, serious and reserved. And it didn't suit her one bit.

Jaime wondered if she'd been like that before the war. Gods knew he'd changed enough after spending the past three years of guarding the Mad King and witnessing everything that came with that. Lyanna Stark had spent that time at the mercy of Rhaegar, who'd taken her from her family, forcefully impregnated her with his bastard son, then left her in the mountains of Dorne to go off and get himself killed at the Trident. Said bastard had then been taken from her after her rescue, and was due to be sent to be raised in the cold, frozen north with his uncle, the equally cold, frozen Lord Stark. Truly, he didn't blame the girl for looking so empty.

That didn't mean he had any patience with her, however, because Jaime was angry. No, furious. He had wasted three years of his life guarding a madman, a cruel, sadistic bastard who was protected by the name Targaryen and the title of king. No man had deserved death more than Aerys, and Jaime had killed him, but people shamed him for it. Called him Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, man without honour. And thus he had been dismissed from the Kingsguard, with not only the support of many of the rebellion leaders - Eddard Stark foremost amongst them - but also his own father. Jaime knew Lord Tywin had never wanted him to become a Kingsguard, had resigned his post as Hand of the King in fury when Aerys appointed him, but he stupidly underestimated how far the man would go to get his heir back. Jaime was angry and humiliated. No doubt his name would go down in the White Book as the worst knight in history. Ser Jaime Lannister: joined the Kingsguard to fuck his sister in case she ever became queen, killed the king he was sworn to protect with his life, then became the first knight to be stripped of his white cloak. A legacy to be proud of for sure.

And there was another matter. Cersei. He'd joined to be close to her, only to separate them entirely. For months he'd sat through Aerys' burnings, going away inside to thoughts of his sister. He had dreamed of the living hell in the Red Keep all being over, of being back with Cersei in his arms, of Aerys being dead, and finally, finally that had happened. But as it turned out, all it meant was that they were switching places. Now Cersei actually was the queen, married to that oaf Robert Baratheon, Jaime was to be sent back to Casterly Rock with the girl the king desired but couldn't have.

Robert now hated him, for having what he couldn't. Jon Arryn and every other lord had been very insistent on the fact that the new king could not marry the whore of Rhaegar, mother of his bastard. The importance of the queen being a maiden had been stressed during those talks, which had only amused Jaime when they agreed upon Cersei. His smirk had been stopped not by the icy glare of Eddard Stark - assuming he was mocking Lady Lyanna - but by his father announcing that Jaime would make a good match for the Stark girl. A fitting pair, he had heard one lord mutter, well out of the hearing of Lord Stark and the king. The Kingslayer and the Dragon's Whore, both as soiled as each other. Jaime could have run him through for that, but instead found himself once more darkly amused.