JAIME
Jaime walked with Jon down the long corridors of the Red Keep, a quiet feeling of satisfaction still lingering from his morning music session with Prince Rhaegar. Creating something new felt like an antidote to the often suffocating atmosphere of the court.
Then, he saw her. At the end of the hall, standing like a statue of ice in the afternoon warmth, was Cersei. She was not alone; there was a Lannister guard nearby. Her face was creased in a familiar expression of dissatisfaction. Then, she looked up when she heard their footsteps and immediately approached him, her movements quick and determined.
Jaime's feelings were immediately mixed. He was always resigned when dealing with this child. As Steven, he had met people like Cersei, people whose worlds revolved around themselves, whose belief in their own superiority was so absolute it blinded them to reality. Unstoppable narcissism, coupled with a surging anger if their desires were not met. Usually, Steven believed that children like that tended to be changeable, directable towards better traits, though it would take time, patience, and firm boundaries.
But Cersei… Cersei was very difficult. Her armor of arrogance was so thick. Jaime had tried giving her advice, tried sharing some perspectives he had gained from Steven's life, tried to show her a world beyond her own mirror. But Cersei only saw him as her twin brother, her rival, and, worst of all, just another strange little boy.
She did not take him seriously. Maybe if their Father had done it, if Father was willing to take the time to shape her character as he shaped their House's legacy, Cersei might have turned out better. But Father was too busy with his work, and Cersei was left to grow wild in the garden of her own arrogance.
"Jaime."
Cersei's voice sounded, and there was a hesitant tone in it that was very unusual. Usually, she would immediately attack with accusations or demands.
"Yes?" Jaime replied, keeping his voice neutral. He wanted to add, 'It's not like you to greet me gently,' but he held his tongue. Triggering her anger would achieve nothing.
Then, something changed in Cersei's eyes. The hesitation vanished, replaced by a cold, steely determination. "Teach me," she said, the words coming out like a command, not a request.
Jaime was completely confused. "Teach you what, do you mean?"
"Everything," Cersei insisted, stepping closer so only he could hear. "The stories you tell the Prince. The strange songs you sing. The knowledge from those books." She stared straight into his eyes, her intensity almost burning.
"Are you sick?" Jaime asked, a little worried despite his annoyance at being interrupted. After all, she was his twin sister, and although their relationship was complicated, he didn't want to see Cersei become truly insane.
A twitch appeared at the corner of Cersei's mouth, a classic sign that she was restraining her anger. "I saw you with Prince Rhaegar," she said, her voice low and hissing. "Talking constantly. Laughing. I want that. I want to be able to talk to him like that. So, teach me the things you know so I can talk to him."
"Ah." Understanding formed in Jaime's mind. So this was not about a sincere desire to learn. This was about Rhaegar. This was about jealousy. This was about her ambition to be Queen. She saw Jaime getting the Prince's attention, and she wanted a shortcut to get the same. She saw Jaime's knowledge not as something valuable in itself, but as another tool to achieve her goal.
Jaime's mind raced. Honestly, he did not want Cersei to be Queen. Remembering what he vaguely recalled from that TV series, her madness, her cruelty, the destruction she brought, the idea of Cersei on the Iron Throne made his skin crawl. He would block her, no matter what. For now, Jaime's power in terms of influence, especially with Father taking a greater interest in him, allowed him to obstruct Cersei's path. Especially knowing Aerys was not interested in the match.
But this request... this was an opportunity. A dangerous opportunity, but an opportunity nonetheless. Would he teach Cersei stories? Maybe. He could choose the stories carefully. Disney stories from his other world, for example. Stories about kindness, sacrifice, and the consequences of arrogance. Stories designed for children, but carrying strong moral messages. Maybe he could instill things that were so human and emotional that it would slightly change Cersei's nature. Maybe he could wear down some of the sharp edges of her character.
Songs too. He could teach her simple folk songs, songs about the lives of ordinary people, not just songs of war and power. Other things as well, basic knowledge of history or geography that was not too strategic.
Yes, he could do that. It was a gamble. But if there was even a small chance he could change her, make her a little more empathetic, a little less cruel... shouldn't he try?
However, even if Cersei's nature changed, even if she became a better person, Jaime knew he would still try to keep her away from the throne. If she remained the same character as in the TV series, putting her near power would be a disaster. No. Changing her was one thing. Letting her rule was another.
"Of course," Jaime said at last, putting on a thin smile. "I will teach you."
Cersei looked a little surprised by his quick agreement, but she quickly hid it behind a mask of satisfaction.
"But," Jaime added, raising a finger, "if you really want this, you must promise to obey everything I say. Every lesson, every reading assignment, every song I choose. You will do it without question and without complaint. If you break this even once, the deal is off."
Cersei thought for a moment, looking hesitant. She hated being ordered around, especially by Jaime. But then Jaime saw the ambition flare up in her eyes again. Her determination to be with 'her Prince', to secure her destiny, was apparently stronger than her pride. "Fine," she said reluctantly. "I break a rule and you'll stop. But you must really teach me what you talk about with Prince Rhaegar."
"I will only teach you the things I think you need to know," Jaime corrected gently but firmly. "And I will not bring you directly to him." He nodded to himself. This was important. "You want a conversation? Find your own opportune time with him. Show him what you have learned."
This was the right thing. He would give her the tools, but he would not open the door for her. He would not let Cersei come with him, using his closeness to Rhaegar for her own advantage.
Cersei frowned, her frustration returning. "Why are you making this difficult for me?"
Jaime smiled, this time a more genuine smile. He decided to use one of the old sayings he often heard. "People say effort does not betray the results," he said. "So if you work hard and are sincere, then you will get it."
Cersei stared at him intently for a few moments, as if trying to read his hidden intentions. Then, she nodded stiffly. "Fine. You get what you want. Teach me a song first then."
Jaime pretended to think for a moment, even though he already knew exactly which song he would start with. He nodded. "Let's find a suitable place," he said. "Like the garden. It fits the song I'm going to teach you."
He motioned for Cersei to follow him, and with Jon behind him, they began to walk towards the garden.
…
"You sing it well."
The words came from Jaime's mouth, and he meant them. They had spent nearly an hour in this secluded corner of the Red Keep's garden. Jon and the other Lannister guard stood far enough away to provide privacy, yet close enough to keep watch. Jaime had chosen a song he remembered from his previous life: "You'll Be In My Heart" by Phil Collins. It was a song one of his friends used to play, a soothing melody with lyrics about protection and unconditional love. He thought it was a good start, something that contrasted with the songs of war or intrigue usually sung in Westeros. And honestly, Cersei had a good voice. Clear, strong, and when she concentrated on the melody, she could convey the song's emotion quite well.
Cersei smiled at the compliment, a proud smile that was so typical of her. "Of course," she said, lifting her chin slightly. "It was easy."
Nodding, Jaime decided it was time for the real 'feedback'. This lesson was not just about singing. "Now," he said, keeping his voice calm and neutral, "your goal is to impress Prince Rhaegar, isn't it?"
"Of course," Cersei snorted, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I will use this to impress him. These strange songs of yours. I've already memorized the famous songs, but I heard the Prince likes 'unusual' songs. That's why he's always talking to you." There was an annoyed tone in that last sentence.
"The Prince is like that," Jaime confirmed, ignoring her annoyed tone. "He values authenticity. He's bored with the same things he hears every day at court." He leaned in slightly. "But do you want to know what he likes besides just unusual songs?"
Cersei's eyes narrowed with suspicion, but her curiosity was piqued. "What?" she moved closer.
"He likes women who are graceful and gentle," Jaime said, observing her reaction carefully. This was the dangerous part.
As expected, Cersei immediately straightened her back, looking offended. "I am graceful and gentle," she said, her voice hissing slightly.
"No, no," Jaime calmly refuted, shaking his head. "You hear yourself just now? That hiss? That's not gentle. You are graceful, yes, no one can deny that. You move like a cat, and you know how to carry yourself. But gentle? Far from it." He decided to be honest, as brutal as it was. Their deal depended on honesty. "I've lived with you my whole life, Cersei. I know how you are. You are stubborn, cynical, and arrogant."
"What did you say?!" Cersei's voice rose, anger flaring in her green eyes. The Lannister guard in the distance seemed to tense up.
"See! You see for yourself, don't you?" Jaime pointed calmly at her reaction. "That. That's what I mean. That burst of anger. That impatience. The contempt in your voice. Prince Rhaegar is a calm and considerate man. He will not be impressed by that. He will be disturbed."
Cersei stared at him, her chest rising and falling with anger, but Jaime's calm argument and the direct evidence of her own behavior left her speechless. She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. She looked like an angry cat soaked in water, helpless for a moment. Jaime could see the struggle within her, between her wounded pride and her burning ambition.
After a brief silence, where the only sound was the chirping of birds in the trees, Cersei finally turned away, refusing to meet his eyes. "Suppose you are right," she muttered, the words coming out with difficulty. "So what should I do to 'dampen' all this?"
This was progress. An admission, however reluctant, that something needed to be changed. Jaime straightened his voice, adopting the role of the teacher he had set for himself. "First, if you want to erase all that, you must learn to control your mind. Every time your mind churns, with anger, annoyance, contempt, you must try to return to calm. Take a breath. Count to ten if you need to."
He continued, "Second, don't always think that others are beneath you. That thought is toxic. It makes you underestimate others and makes you look arrogant. Try to see other people as... people. Not as pawns in your game or servants for your desires."
"And most importantly," Jaime stressed, "keep thinking good thoughts about everything. Or at least, try. Don't jump to the worst conclusion or see hidden motives in every action."
Cersei listened in silence, her expression unreadable.
"For example?" she finally asked, her voice still flat.
Jaime had expected this question. "For example, right now," he said calmly. "You are talking to me. I am your twin brother, but right now I am also your teacher in this matter. And I know your mind must be spinning. Something like, 'He's so stupid. I can't believe I have to listen to this nonsense. I just need these songs to get closer to the Prince, after that he's completely useless.' At least close to that, right?"
Cersei was silent, but the faint blush creeping up her neck was answer enough.
"Cersei," Jaime said, his voice firm but not judgmental. "I want you to answer honestly. This is part of our deal. If you can't be honest, even about your own thoughts, then our deal is off. Remember?"
Cersei stared at him, the struggle clear in her eyes. Her pride warred against her ambition. Finally, ambition won. "Fine, fine!" she said with frustration, stomping her foot slightly. "Yes! I was thinking you are useless and incredibly arrogant! You are just a little boy acting like you know everything, trying to tell me what to do! Satisfied?"
"Good," Jaime nodded, completely unfazed by her outburst. He almost smiled. "You're honest. I like that. Now, erase that thought. For now, accept me as at least your teacher. What should you do when a teacher is teaching? You don't argue with him. You don't underestimate him. You empty your mind, and you follow him. You listen. You try to understand."
Cersei stared at him, her breathing still a little ragged from anger.
"Try this," Jaime said, his voice softening. "Close your eyes."
Cersei hesitated, looking at him suspiciously.
"Just close them," Jaime urged gently. "No one will see."
Reluctantly, Cersei closed her eyes. Her long, dark eyelashes contrasted starkly with her pale skin.
"Now, take a deep breath through your nose," Jaime instructed. "Feel the air fill your lungs. Hold it for a moment... then exhale slowly through your mouth. Feel the tension in your shoulders relax."
Cersei did it, albeit stiffly at first.
"Again," Jaime said. "Breathe in... hold... exhale. Focus only on your breath. Let those angry thoughts go. Let the annoyance flow out with your breath."
He watched her as she took several more deep breaths. Slowly, he could see the tension in her face ease slightly. The lines between her brows softened. Her jaw was no longer clenched so tightly.
After a few moments, Jaime said, "Alright. Open your eyes."
Cersei opened her eyes. Her expression was still wary, but there was a new calm there, a fragile one. She looked a little confused, as if she had just woken up from a dream.
Then, she tried to smile, a forced smile but an attempt nonetheless.
"Done."
"Good," Jaime agreed, nodding. "Now," he said, taking a breath of his own. "Let's try that song again. This time, focus not just on the notes, but on the feeling behind them. The feeling of protection. The feeling of tenderness. Try to feel it as you sing."
Cersei looked at him for a moment, then she nodded. And they began again.
The lesson with Cersei ended with a fragile promise to meet again the next afternoon. The time was set by Jaime.
As he walked back to his chambers, with Jon following behind, Jaime felt a deep exhaustion seeping into his bones. Not the physical fatigue from sword practice or horse riding. This was a different kind of mental exhaustion, one that came from having to be constantly on guard, constantly analyzing, especially when dealing with his twin sister.
Facing Cersei was truly mentally draining. It was like trying to hold back a storm with a paper umbrella. He had to constantly anticipate her outbursts, deflect her cynicism, and try to plant ideas that contradicted every fiber of her being, all while maintaining a mask of patience.
"You look tired, My Lord," Jon said, his gruff voice breaking the silence of the corridor.
Jaime chuckled softly, a dry laugh. "If you had to face someone like Cersei for a full hour, trying to teach her about patience, this is what would happen."
Just as he said that, a Lannister soldier in a red cloak appeared from a corridor intersection ahead of them. He bowed respectfully to Jaime. "Young Lord," he said. "Lord Lannister summons you to his solar."
'Oh,' thought Jaime, his fatigue instantly mixing with a hint of anxiety. He hoped this conversation would just be a normal one about his progress at court or perhaps about the paper again. He was not in the mood to act, to play the role of the perfect, obedient son, to follow the cold, calculating flow of his Father's thoughts.
Facing his Father always required a different level of mental alertness. Jaime had learned that the best way, the only way, to get Father's approval for his ideas was to frame them in the language of power, profit, and legacy. Like the school, for example. He couldn't just say he wanted the people of the Westerlands to be smarter for their own good.
No. He had to wrap it in the idea of 'printing Lannister propaganda', of creating a more controllable populace because they read the narrative he provided. He had to emphasize how the school would increase economic efficiency, which in turn would increase tax revenue for Casterly Rock. He had to talk about controlling information.
Something always had to be sacrificed. His idealism had to be veiled by profit for that man. He just hoped he could minimize the negative impact, ensure that the ultimate goal, a more educated and prosperous society, was not completely lost in the process.
Jaime took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Alright," he said to the soldier. "I'll be right there."
Arriving there. With Jon waiting outside the Hand's solar. He entered his Father's study without knocking this time; he had been summoned. There, as usual, his Father was sitting behind his large desk, bent over a stack of documents, his quill moving quickly across the parchment. The room was silent, save for the scratching of the quill and the soft hiss of the fire in the hearth.
"You called, Father?" Jaime said.
Tywin did not look up immediately. He finished the sentence he was writing, set down his quill carefully, then raised his head. His pale green eyes met Jaime's, assessing as always. "Sit," he said.
Jaime sat in the chair across the desk, keeping his back straight. He waited. With Father, it was always better to wait.
After a few moments of tense silence, Jaime ventured. "What did you want to talk about?"
Tywin looked straight into his eyes. "You are nine years old," Father said, his voice flat. "And time keeps moving. You are growing bigger."
"That's what happens to living beings," Jaime replied, trying to sound indifferent, though he felt a bad feeling start to creep into his stomach.
Tywin paused for a moment, as if considering his words. "I've been thinking about some things."
"What things?" Jaime asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
"It's... about your marriage."
'Shit.' The thought exploded in Jaime's mind with surprising force.
And he rarely ever cursed.
...
You can read chapters 23-43 early at Patreon.com/Daario_W
Don't forget to give power stones :p