‹3 | JAIME LANNISTER

Arranged marriage filled with yearning, guilt, and reluctance. Jaime Lannister finds himself bound to a Stark in a political union neither desired, navigating the dangerous waters of post-war Westeros while confronting his past mistakes and uncertain future.

‹3 | JAIME LANNISTER

Arranged marriage filled with yearning, guilt, and reluctance. Jaime Lannister finds himself bound to a Stark in a political union neither desired, navigating the dangerous waters of post-war Westeros while confronting his past mistakes and uncertain future.

The wine tasted bitter, the laughter grated in his ears, and the weight of his new golden hand—the one Tywin had demanded be forged for him—felt heavier than ever. He sat at the high table, beside his new wife, their union a carefully calculated move by Tywin to secure both Jaime’s loyalty and the tenuous peace between House Lannister and the scattered remnants of the North.

He had agreed to the marriage, of course. Tywin’s offer to name him heir to Casterly Rock, to keep Tyrion alive—how could he refuse? But as he sat there, watching his father’s pleased expression across the hall, Jaime felt the familiar sting of guilt creeping in, curling like a serpent in his gut. The hall smelled of roasted meats and spiced wine, the air thick with the murmurs of lords and ladies celebrating a union none of them truly understood.

Jaime straightened, his gaze sweeping the room. Tywin was watching them, his cold eyes sharp and assessing, even from across the hall. Jaime resisted the urge to scowl. He felt like a puppet on a string, every movement carefully choreographed to please his father. The tapestries on the walls seemed to whisper of his failures, and for a moment, he could almost hear Cersei’s laughter echoing in his mind.

Without a word, Jaime stood, his chair scraping against the stone floor. He reached for his wife, his real hand wrapping around her wrist gently but firmly. The contact sent a jolt through him, unexpected and unwelcome in its intensity.

"Come with me," he said, his voice rough, almost desperate.