Hear Me Roar! {A Game of Thrones Mod}

Chapter I: A Tournament Cut Short

The Year of the False Spring, 281 AL

“We all dream of things we cannot have. Tywin dreamed that his son would be a great knight, that his daughter would be a queen. He dreamed they would be so strong and brave and beautiful that no one would ever laugh at them.” - A Feast for Crows


Ser Jaime Lannister had been ecstatic at the news of the tournament at Harrenhal. It was the sort of event that would occur but once in a generation. The greatest lords and knights of the Seven Kingdoms would gather under the shadow of Black Harren's folly, the largest ruin in the world, and compete for glory and lavish prizes. Prince Rhaegar, heir to the Iron Throne, would be competing and Princess Ellia of Dorne, his wife, would be attending as well. Even King Aerys, notorious for never leaving the Red Keep, would at long last make the trip to Harrenhall to enjoy the hospitality of House Whent.

Fresh from battle with the Kingswood brotherhood, and knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard, the Sword of Morning himself, there was nothing more that a young knight could want than the opportunity to prove himself before the whole of the kingdoms. The accolades would be deafening, he had no doubts about that. Young, tall, handsome, and talented beyond reason, he would be a favorite on the lists, but that was not the cause of Jaime's elation, no, he was looking forward to something else entirely.

A white cloak awaited him at Harrenhal, an appointment to the Kingsguard to replace the aged Harlan Grandison who had died in his sleep the year passed. It would seem like he was mad to most, a boy who had lost his wits, giving up Casterly Rock and the whole of the Westerlands for a cloak, but with service to the King came King's Landing. His father was the Hand of the King, and had brought Cersei, Jaime's sister to court with him. Lord Tywin Lannister was nothing if not ambitious, and Cersei would remain at the Red Keep for as long as it took for Princess Ellia's poor health to end her and allow Rhaegar to remarry, or for Prince Viserys to mature; anything in the name of a royal marriage for her.

It was that which they- she- had planned for when they conspired beneath the shadow of the Red Keep, at a dusty old inn. The years they had spent apart, him as a squire under Sumner Crakehall, and her a lady at court with their father, had only served to mature her. She had been beautiful when they parted, but she had become a goddess by the time they had reunited. That night alone most men would give a kingdom for. He had thought to himself on the way back to Casterly Rock. A white cloak would mean he wouldn't have to marry Lysa Tully, whom she had told him their father had intended for him, and he was glad for that, for she was no Cersei. Lord Tywin would be furious, but unable to protest the appointment, and Jaime himself would silence the tittering of the other lords and ladies when he won the greatest tournament in a generation, and all the glory that came with it.

Those plans seemed set in stone upon his arrival to Harrenhall. Aerys' insults and provocations had led to Lord Tywin shunning the tournament, but the king was present regardless, and ready to induct him to the Kingsguard with Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander, beside him. The meeting would never come however. His boots had barely touched the ground, eyes barely taken in the great looming sight of the ruined towers, when he was greeted with shocking news.

“Ser Jaime!” Came the call from Addam Marbrand. Usually the sight of the heir to Ashmark would have been cause for celebration, as he was a childhood friend from his days as a page at Casterly Rock, but there was nothing celebratory about his expression, nor the letter that he had received and the news that was spreading throughout Harrenhall, casting a new and dark shadow over the tournament beyond the old decrepit towers.

Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King for twenty years, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport and Lord Pararmount of the Westerlands, had died of a sudden illness, found in his bed but a few mornings past. King's Landing was abuzz with rumors of what had gone on, and the Hand's household and personal guard were preparing to make their return to Casterly Rock with their Lord's remains. Cersei will be coming back with them.

There was no time to think, or plan, and Jaime was fine with that. Being able to move and ride and fight without thought had been drilled into him for years, and it was a much preferred state to worrying about the insult he would be doing to King Aerys in escaping from the sudden looming danger of a Kingsguard appointment, or that his father was dead. A rush of nausea flooded him as he mounted his horse, lords and fellow knights from the Westerlands already beginning to pull down their pavilions to join him in the trek back to Casterly Rock. Fellow lords rather. It was a disconcerting thought. He was no lord; it was glory and Cersei he hungered for, not power.

The only comfortable feeling was the saddle beneath him as he started away from the grounds. The gods hadn't shaped him to fill the shoes of Lord Tywin Lannister, but then, they hadn't shaped Tywin Lannister to die before his time. A steely stare from him could have- no, should have, been able to cow even the Stranger. He had been a fixture, not just in Jaime's life, but for the entire Seven Kingdoms. He had brought peace, plenty, and justice to his friends, and his foes were remembered in quaint songs that reminded errant lords the price of crossing House Lannister and its patriarch. Why do I keep thinking of him as a lord instead of a father? Though, when it came to Tywin, he seemed to father more through example than ever spending much time with his children.

Tyrion will be crushed. I should be back with him, and with Cersei... The thought of Cersei was an unsettling one, and a flood of guilt tore through him with the idea that perhaps they had been the cause of their father's death, that he had discovered them and it had killed him. He unconsciously straightened in the saddle at the notion, denying it fervently. If their father had known, he would have been dragged to Riverrun in chains if need be to marry Lysa Tully, and kept on opposite end of the kingdoms from Cersei. He would deny there ever having been a problem, but he would have solved it in his own way, not die from the shock and shame of it.

Tyrion thankfully remained a safe haven for thought. He was the youngest, and by far the smallest of the Lannister children. Their mother had died to bring him into the world, and Tywin had been appalled by his stunted stature and ugliness. He was a child still, and Jaime was far from certain how he would take the death of their father, and the fact that the love and acceptance he had craved since infancy from him would forever be denied. While Tyrion was still a child, and Jaime far older, he had always protected his little brother, sometimes even from Cersei, though even he could not stand up to Lord Tywin when Tyrion was the object of their father's scorn. Another scowl crossed his features. Reflection was proving a darker beast than he cared to confront.

More than anything, Jaime wanted to swing a sword at something. For years, lance and sword and mace were the easiest ways to for him to express himself. He hadn't needed to learn to negotiate or rule; even friendship was something he could draw to himself with displays of martial brilliance, he certainly had a gift for winning over his fellow squires. Each moment of practice, each second of sparring, it had all culminated on the battlefield against the Kingswood outlaws, and he had triumphed for it and won his spurs, hard-earned through victory. Life was all too easy when everything was a stroke of the sword away, and the idea that he would be denied even a fighting chance to control his fate seemed profoundly unfair.

They rode in silence through the Riverlands. It was no occasion for jokes or witticisms, it was time for words that would assure others of his strength and capability to rule. That he knew those words were needed was a start, but he lacked them. It was better to allow his companions to think that he was lost in thought rather than numb with shock; that grand plans and ideas were circling through his mind, each more ambitious than the last. The truth would earn only their pity, and if there was only one thing that Jaime shared with his father, it was that he was not one to be pitied.

He didn't want Casterly Rock, or the Westerlands, but they were his, and as the crushing burden of having to face the ghost of his father's reign began to ease with each fresh morning on the road, the prospect seemed less bleak. It had always been easier for him to act than think, but deprived of the opportunity to do the latter, his father's death had provided at least a sobering environment for the former. It was a poor plan anyway. Aerys had always been jealous of his Hand, that was the only reason he accepted me knowing the damage it would cause. He reflected. I may have found myself on Dragonstone with Rhaegar, or sent off to Dorne... To say the least of what father would have done. Even if he could not act openly, Tywin Lannister was no man to take an insult to family. The loose tongue of the captain of his guard is one thing, but his son and heir is another entirely.

Casterly Rock was starting to transform from a tomb of responsibility that would envelop Jaime's life into an opportunity. House Lannister was a beacon of power and wealth, and under Lord Tywin they'd extended their reach and established themselves as the strongest of the Lords Paramount. They were descended from kings, and had the greatest gold mines of the rich Westerlands under their direct control. All of that power, the great legacy that Tywin Lannister had spent his life renewing and expanding, was now under his control, and with power came opportunity, and its own sort of freedom.

A Lannister always pays his debts. Under Tywin, that phrase had become the unofficial house words of the Lannisters, a not-so-subtle reminder that their allies would be rewarded, and their enemies punished. They were good words, strong words, but they belonged to Lord Tywin Lannister, and were the legacy of his reign.

Tyrion, Cersei, and his aunt and uncles would be waiting at the Rock, waiting for their lord's return. He would have to define his own rule, whether he approached it with all the seriousness of his martial training, or if he sought to lift the burden and drop it upon the first man to ask for it.

The words came easy. They had fallen into disuse, but had reigned over the West for thousands of years. Lord Jaime Lannister would ensure they would be remembered once again.

Hear Me Roar!

JKrugger said:

Awesome! Been looking forward to this since your last watch ended, and the first chapter has not disappointed. If someone wanted to be nitpicky, the beginning of the tenth paragraph, where you talk about Tyrion, is a little odd, but no one's perfect, even though your last AAR was pretty dang close to it!

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There were a few typos, and poor writing admittedly. That's what I get for starting at 1am. I'm trying out a bit of a new style for writing, rather than going with first-person, so there's bound to be more than a few flaws. Trying to get my brain into a setting for more proper writing. Thanks for the review! Always looking to improve on things.

Chapter II: The Reins of Castamere

Jaime

There was no greater castle in the world than Casterly Rock. Harrenhall at its peak may have been larger, its three great towers stretching up as though they could touch the clouds. But the Rock was a mountain in and of itself. Built on top of, and carved into, a massive hill of stone, with equally expansive deposits of gold beneath. It stood sentry over Lannisport, the greatest city in the Westerlands. It was a symbol of House Lannister, a fortress impossible to take, and a source of great wealth and power.

That it now belonged to him was something he could hardly wrap his head around as they approached. For all its greatness though, the Reynes and Tarbecks thought they could try themselves against the Rock simply because a weak man was its lord. That it was now Lord Jaime Lannister who held the rock was a sobering thought. In weakness he could lose it all: His seat, his family, his reputation, his head, and Cersei. He was not afraid to fight though, if anything the presence of a sword at his side was a comfort, but the days of riding that had brought him back here had been filled with the constant reminder that a lord could not rely on his sword alone to solve every problem.

Just the important ones. He thought, finally allowing himself a smirk.

There was no shortage of fellow Lannisters present when he and his escort dismounted in the courtyard of the Rock. Lord Tywin had left behind three brothers and a sister, and all three of Jaime's uncles were there to meet him when he arrived. House Lannister was blessed in its expansive size, but there was a curse to that as well. There were only so many titles and honors to go around, and many a branch of the family had fallen into obscurity, even over the course of Tywin's reign.

Ser Kevan was the second oldest son of Lord Tytos Lannister, the prior lord of the Rock before Tywin, and the most successful of the younger sons. Well-accomplished in war and diplomacy alike, he had served as his brother's strong right arm, counsel, and confidant, and Jaime had never known him to be anything but loyal and steadfast. He also held an uncomfortable amount of power now. By marriage he was associated with House Swyft, and with the death of Lord Tywin, he was not only a sure choice of regent, but he held a strong claim of his own to the Rock.





Gerion and Tygett were younger sons still, and had never quite fit into the reign of Tywin Lannister. They were both accomplished men in their own right, and capable besides, but neither had ever held the position of Tywin, or the respect earned by Kevan. Tygett was a renown fighter, but angry and envious of his older siblings, and Gerion, while known for his jokes and easy manner, was equally desiring of a greater place in the world. They had both chafed under Tywin, and Jaime had little idea as to how they would deal with living under his son. Tygett at least could hold a position in councils with his expertise in martial matters, but both surely would know how few prospects remained for them.





The formalities were tedious to say the least. Every man in the courtyard, from stable-boys on up it seemed, had words of condolence to offer. Lord Tywin had been respected, feared, and even well-liked throughout the Westerlands. He was as man who rewarded loyalty and punished treason, reliable and competent to a fault. Lords Harys Swyft and Melwyn Sarsfield echoed just that sentiment. “We'll never see his like again.” Added Lord Damon Marbrand. Ser Kevan however, had more than just words of comfort to offer.

“There were things your father intended of you before his death.” He informed Jaime, cutting to the quick. “A marriage, for one, is more important than ever to bring stability now that he's gone. As your regent, I advise we move quickly and contact Lord Tully before there can be any doubts about the succession-”

“There will be no doubts Uncle.” Jaime interrupted him. Even with responsibility for the Westerlands resting on his shoulders, he had no desire to wed Lysa Tully, and the reminder of his father's will in the matter brought up the memory of his and Cersei's own ill-conceived plot to avoid it. “We'll discuss the regency and other matters soon. I need to pay my respects first. Alone preferably.”

“Of course.” If Kevan had been disturbed, he didn't show it. “You'll find him in the Hall of Heroes, with the journey from King's Landing, the body was in a state that we were forced to inter him before your arrival.”

The hall was empty when Jaime arrived, septons and silent sisters dismissed so that the new lord might have a moment with the old. In truth, he doubted that Lord Tywin would have ever cared to have mourners. He was not a man concerned with love in the least. “You cannot eat love, nor buy a horse with it, nor warm your halls on a cold night.” He had once told Jaime when he was younger. All to prepare him to rule. Well, rule he did, and Tywin Lannister would go without tears.

A statue would rest over the place where Tywin Lannister had been interred, he was sure. The man had ruled the realm in all but name for twenty years, and had restored House Lannister to a place of true prominence in the Seven Kingdoms. For the moment though, there was merely an alcove where his bones were stored, along with those of all the other great heroes the Lannisters had drawn from their ranks over the centuries. Jaime had been preparing himself for the moment where it would finally sink in that his father was gone forever, yet nothing came with it. Perhaps it was easier to grieve for a man like Tywin, who brought little joy into the lives of others, but provided the solidity and stability of a rock for them to build their happiness on. In many ways, he had become as much a fixture to the realm as his castle, solid and implacable.

That train of thought was interrupted though, as the nearby doors opened and closed. For a moment he wondered if it was Uncle Kevan, come to badger him about Lysa Tully, but the nearby torchlight quickly illuminated the golden curls of the figure approaching. She wore a hood, but was unmistakable even before she pushed it back and stepped into his arms for an embrace. In their youth, they'd been almost impossible to distinguish, but the years had given him height and muscle, and her incomparable curves.

“Jaime...” Her voice was a whisper, though even that he silenced with a quick kiss. She didn't draw away as he had feared, but she kept the embrace short. Standing there, before their father, was not the place for it, likewise with the lords and uncles filling the halls. “We don't have long, Uncle Kevan will expect you back soon. He means to marry you to...” She cut away, distraught. She just lost Father, and soon I may well be lost to her as well.

“I'm the Lord of the Rock, not him. If I refuse, he'll hardly have grounds to protest.” It was a poor plan, to be sure, but he couldn't think of any others.

“I already tried to convince him otherwise on the way back from the capital. Father's death changed him. He may have loved him, but we don't have that same respect. If he believes you intend to defy Father's will, let alone -why-, he may decide to press his claim and become lord himself. The bannermen are used to following and obeying him. He even told me in private that the Tully match will be useful because he suspects that Gerion and Tyg will try to gather support and make moves for the Rock themselves.”

“Then what?” The prospect was dizzying. Acting against his uncles were unthinkable, not only because they would likely be able to rally more support from the lords of the West than he and Cersei, but because they were kin, he couldn't simply run his sword through them, nor did he want to. Still, he was not about to surrender Cersei to curb their possible ambitions. “Send them away from Casterly Rock?”

“No. It's only Kevan we need to worry about right now, but we can't act against him anyway. He's regent, and any move against him will just give him more support.” She left the notion of killing him unsaid, though he knew her well enough to figure she may have already considered it. “Honors and elevation on the other hand...”

He suddenly understood her meaning. There was a way to remove Ser Kevan from the Rock without offense, at least, perceivable offense. “Castamere.” He nodded against her. It was an elegant solution. Kevan Lannister would gain a seat of his own in the ruins of Castamere, and even with the expansive gold mines remaining, it would take lifetimes of work, to rebuild even a semblance of the old glory surrounding the seat. Still, he would be rich, and have lands and a lordship to pass down to his infant son Lancel.

“He can have Tyrion as his squire and ward as well.” She pressed against him more insistently, her tone as silky and convincing as she had ever made it.

He was more hesitant about that. Tyrion was young, and a dwarf besides. His first thought was of how it would be reckless to leave him a hostage, but Uncle Kevan was no enemy, just a fellow Lannister who had his own ideas about what would leave them stronger and more secure. It made sense besides. Kevan was probably the best man in the west to have Tyrion learn under, and holding Jaime's heir would show he still held the trust of Casterly Rock. That Cersei hated 'The Imp' with a passion, and would sooner have him out of their lives was inconsequential against the benefits, of the idea, though he wasn't quite sure if that wasn't her only motive in suggesting it.

“Tyrion as well then.” He acquiesced. “With all the lords of the Westerlands here, there will undoubtedly be a feast tonight. I'll announce it then.”





Cersei however, was not finished with just plans for Tyrion and Kevan. “We should return to the capital soon as well. There's a year left in the regency so it's the perfect time for us to make the connections we'll need.”

“Connections?” He questioned that. While having friends in King's Landing would be convenient to say the least, Cersei was always fiercely independent. He had half-expected her to want them to shut themselves in at the Rock and spend the next decade bending the wills of the lords of the Westerlands, but life at court had apparently opened her eyes to greater games.

“He came to me after Father died, a man close to Aerys, with an offer. The realm will be changing soon, and we can have a part to play in it.” Her eyes shone at that moment, a fierce look overtaking her features. “Well I don't want to have a mere 'part' in it. I want us to be the ones to decide it. Father may have spent his life trying to raise our family's profile, but we'll be the ones to truly succeed at it.”

He could only remember that night in King's Landing months ago when she had convinced him to take the white cloak. She was just as insistent, just as convincing. He remembered how that plan could have led to disaster, and a part of him was certain this one would have far more risk. The things I do for love. None of this would have been necessary if he didn't love his sister far more than he should have. He could have simply married Lysa Tully, raised a brood of red and blonde haired children, and spent his days drinking, ruling, and jousting. The prospect of peace did not entice him however. He had never considered himself made for ruling, but he considered himself made for a dull life even less, and he wanted Cersei more than anything.

“Where at court do we start then, sweet sister?” He brought himself to ask at last. For better or worse he was tying himself to the darker intrigues of King's Landing politics.

“Prince Rhaegar.” She answered simply. “Get close to him. He'll be king soon enough, especially if Mad Aerys had anything to do with Father's death, and he has no wards under him at present.”

It would have been a good move regardless, he forced himself to acknowledge. Boasting an absolutely stellar reputation throughout the realm, the Prince of Dragonstone was also one of the most learned men in the kingdoms, and skilled in every martial field one could think of. It was unfortunate that Tywin Lannister's death had forced them both to withdraw from the tournament at Harrenhal. Along with Aerys' Kingsguard, he was also one of the most capable men on horseback as well. He and I would have made for a fine contest. Jaime was of a proper station now, especially upon assuming lordship, to learn under him, and being in Red Keep would put him next to some of the greatest figures in the Seven Kingdoms, heroes he had idolized since he could first pick up a sword.

“And you?” It was impossible to forget that Cersei would be there as well, and King's Landing was a place where secret trysts were all-too easy to arrange.

“I've some... practical skills of my own to learn, and a tutor prepared to aid me in just that.”

Maximus_96 said:

Well, they look like they can become a power couple. The writing and story are looking just as good as your last AAR. Will be following this closely.

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Thank you very much! And indeed, I always enjoyed the Cersei-Jaime dynamics. Though it'll be a bit different this time around, with him having actual power, and not just forfeiting everything for her.

I imagine Brightroar will be on your 'to-do' list sometime in the future.

Good to see this back.

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Perhaps! I did the Valyrian Steel Sword chain in another game, and found it kind of... I don't know, immersion ruining? I may just leave Brightroar alone, and find alternative means of getting a generic VSS if it comes to that. - And right! The Red God was not yet finished with this story. Had to bring it back from the grave.

NACBEAST said:

Ironically, the Valyrian Steel Sword quest line probably works best for Brightroar than any other potential sword. Think about it: an old man from the east gives you a map, more specifically a map of Tommen II's route to Valyria. It writes itself from there.

But your considerations are understandable.

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Indeed, I hadn't thought of writing it like another series of events. Perhaps if the rp demands it, he'll make a trip over on Tommen's old route. A shame the game engine prevents Gerion from going and doing it again and getting himself out of Jaime's hair.

Chapter III: The Golden Lord and the Silver Prince

Cersei



All that the world had to offer she wanted, but she wanted power most of all. In Casterly Rock, she could not feel it the same way. The walls were cold and unfeeling, and the lords and servants had been raised since birth to be deferential of Lannisters. King's Landing however, was rife with influence from all over the Seven Kingdoms. There was an entirely different feeling to having a knight from the Stormlands treat her with the respect she deserved than a sworn vassal from the Westerlands, to say the least of the open desire with which she was viewed. She had learned to notice it, no matter how well-concealed, since her flowering, when she reached marriageable age and the proposals began.

Every young lord and knight wanted her, even the higher lords like Robert Baratheon of the Stormlands, looked at her with open lust; men turned away from their wives with guilty looks. She held her power over the court, over even King Aerys. Though I cannot be sure if he wants me to spite the memory of Father... She held sway over Jaime most of all, and she could imagine nothing greater but for possibly one man.

Rhaegar Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, stood in the yard of the Red Keep. While King's Landing was not his seat, the small island holding of the Crown Prince had never been to his liking. He may as well have been a god in human flesh. Silver-haired, and with unearthly dark-purple eyes, his outer looks were matched only by the deep and sorrowful soul within. Every lady of the court could be reduced to tears on but a whim, should he play his harp, and sing. Had any man ever been so beautiful?. Beside him, in her youth, she had thought of even Jaime as little more than a callow boy.

Years ago, before the prince had been betrothed to drab, sickly Ellia Martell, she had been assured that Rhaegar would marry her one day, and nothing had made her happier. He had been wounded by something, but she would heal him, and rule beside him as queen. The smiles had all died that day in Lannisport, when her Aunt Genna informed her that King Aerys, out of jealousy of his Hand, had declined the match. In the end, her father had failed her, the king had rejected her, and the Prince would never look at her.

Jaime remained the only one in the world she could truly confide in, and even then she was careful. She knew the anger that attraction to others could summon. If he ever confessed interest in anyone else to her, she would do her utmost to destroy them. She didn't need him to be spending his energy destroying the Targaryens... yet. Aerys perhaps, and Ellia and her child. She crushed that line of thought though. Rhaegar was sullied by his wife, his child Rhaenys, by his father, and most of all by the failure of her own father to betroth them.

Speaking of Jaime, the new Lord of Casterly Rock, and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands was in the yard as well. Unlike Prince Rhaegar, he was armored and mounted, fresh from a joust with a member of the Kingsguard; she could hardly tell which, with their identical armor and the distance between them. He was in his element with the prince and the greatest knights the kingdoms had to offer. Not yet in his sixteenth year, he was every bit the knight that they were regardless, perhaps moreso in some cases. He had also managed to build a rapport with the younger wards and members of the court, Maelys Velaryon, the heir of Driftmark, following him in particular.







Rhaegar's tutelage had been beneficial for him as well. The prince lacked Jaime's natural inclination, but he had made up for it with patience and diligence, learning later in life, but showing skill with lance and sword regardless. For a man who craved honor and recognition as much as him, it was only natural that he approached every bit of training, every bit of study, with all the seriousness he could muster, and the results definitely showed. Already he was a match for Barristan the Bold and Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of Morning, and she was confident that he would surpass them still. She had been rejected by the Targaryens, but Jaime could be better than them. Rhaegar may have been beautiful, but Jaime reflected every bit of perfection she wanted in herself.





It had been months since their stay had begun and it had proven every bit as fruitful and important as she had first suspected. In spite of, or perhaps because of, his state as a eunuch, Varys was underestimated in the capital, but he knew far more than he let on even with his omniscient persona as Master-of-Whispers. There existed a whole different world beneath the life at court she had known. It was a world of secrets. Secret passages ran rampant throughout the Red Keep, there were secrets to eavesdropping on even the most secure locations she had known, and a thousand secrets could be gleamed from the people lords and knights surrounded themselves with. The way they spent their money, the way they treated others, even the way they walked to and from the city outside the walls. It was like being introduced to a whole new language, and while most scholarly pursuits bored her, this was the language of power, and power was anything but boring.

Uncle Kevan, or rather, Lord Kevan, had ventured to the Capital with them. While he remained resolute, in adhering to his brother's will, his new station as a lord, and his duties in representing the Westerlands at court before the king, kept him more than a little busy. The rest of her and Jaime's council were far more pliable, particularly Maester Creylen, who remained at Casterly Rock as regent, loyal to them and without power to make the selfish or damaging decisions that Kevan would have insisted on.



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Still, not all was well in the Westerlands. King Aerys in particular was growing to be a greater and greater burden upon them, and a threat besides. Mid-way through the year, his madness struck in full force, not merely in the form of his usual paranoia, but in outright delusions. He retreated to his apartments for weeks on end, sending only for the Grand Maester, writing supplies, and food. When he emerged at last, his hair somehow even more disheveled and vacant-eyed, he proclaimed that he had completed his legislative legacy, a grand act that would solidify his reign as king, and stand testament to future generations the wisdom he possessed.

What he did present was so ludicrous that it may as well have been the dream of a child. She had poured over every word, as per Varys' instruction, and while she gleamed much from the way the king wrote it, she could find nothing useful from the act itself, nor was there. It was flagrant lunacy, and for the benefit of all, every lord to whom a copy was presented would ignore it.


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In the end, it was not insane, easily-ignored laws that remained the limit of King Aerys' acts. What truly had Cersei seething was his act regarding the position of Warden of the West. It appeared that if he could not strip Tywin of his heir, in a final insult he deemed fit to strip Tywin's heir of a title that was legitimately his, with the benefit of currying favor with a possible threat to his reign.





Robert Baratheon was a great soldier, true. He was older than Jaime as well, and had family ties to the throne, but he was not the Warden of the West. The insult he had done to Jaime, her Jaime, kept her up in the evenings sometimes still, seething with rage. Aerys and Robert alike will pay. She vowed to herself. She knew, or had figured out rather, that Varys was shaping her into a weapon against the Mad King, and trusting her to use Jaime to carry out her vengeance. He had insinuated without saying that Aerys had murdered their father, and he had promised her the power and control over her life that she craved. If he did not know about her and Jaime, it would be a small miracle in and of itself. He'll have to be next, after Aerys, or perhaps first.

She was hardly alone in wanting Aerys dead or deposed besides. Factions had risen up throughout the Kingdoms, some dedicated to overthrowing their king, others to lowering the power he had over them. They were limited however, by the fact that Aerys had yet to do something to truly merit his being deposed. He was a mad king, but not yet a truly bad king. That the factions were composed of high lords, unable to determine their own leaders and goals from one day to the next limited them as well. Jaime's regency prevented them from truly taking part in the politics of the realm, but she was unsure if it was worth doing regardless. Such things were rife with dissent, and she would tolerate none of it.





Aerys and the greater politics of the kingdoms could wait. Unfortunately, there remained problems in the midst of the Westerlands. Their capacity for learning the intrigues back at the Rock were limited from King's Landing, but word still reached her and Jaime in the capital, usually of only the most grave matters. Lord Renly of Deep Den, a lord once adhering to Castamere, seemed intent on taking Ser Harys Swyft's position as castellan of Casterly Rock, and was ready and willing to murder him to do so.

It had been a long night when her and Jaime discussed what to do about the plot. The man was disrespectful and incorrigible, and any request sent to him would just be sent back with insults. Likewise, with the state of the Rock's authority, an attempt to arrest him would more than likely end in failure, and a rebellion would crop up. In the end, he had agreed with her on a course of action. If Lord Renly did rebel, then it would be House Lannister that would profit. The armies of the Westerlands would be raised, and there would be a demonstration of Casterly Rock's might to silence opposition.





It was a small rebellion, trivial to say the least. In the end, he managed to convince no one of his goal to overthrow his lord. While Jaime had yet to completely earn their respect as vassals, the lords of the Westerlands looked up to him and the Lannisters regardless, and the begging of a petty lord with delusions of grandeur would not reach them. The small army that Renly rose was dwarfed by the hosts rallied by their neighbors, and while they could strike out in one or two directions, it was only a matter of time before the net of Lannister bannermen that encircled them would close around them like a noose.






Amazingly enough, it was Gerion Lannister who proved to be the greatest threat of the rebellion. Rather than sit back and simply wait for the world to pass him by, he exploited the chaos of war to leave the Westerlands and flee to Darkdell. Her uncle was apparently intent on hiring men and seeking out financial backers to take the West for himself, and was promising vast, extraordinarily vast, sums of wealth from the bowels of Casterly Rock to those that aided him in staking his claim.

She was incensed with the betrayal, though somewhat relieved. Gerion would always have been a threat, but away from the Rock he was only a threat if he timed his campaign right. Whatever host he could raise would not be the equal of one of the Seven Kingdoms, and he had openly declared himself a traitor to the family. She resolved to watch Tygett more closely, but for now there was little to be done.







The war, if one could call it that, proceeded as well as could be expected. The rebel host was pinned by Lannister bannermen and overwhelmed. Lord Leo Lefford of the Golden Tooth led the charge, with Jaime's regency still ongoing. However, the time it had taken had given Lord Renly time to fortify Deep Den and prepare for a stubborn, if futile siege. That suited Cersei just fine, she had no intention of allowing him to succeed, but the weeks the siege had taken so far would allow Jaime to declare an end to the regency and take over the siege personally in time for its conclusion.






It's been a... productive year. She reflected the next morning, as their horses were bridled and their escorts readied. The both of them had come of age at last, and Jaime was set to return home to the Rock, though not before stopping in Deep Den to oversee the siege. She might have remained at court, waiting for the day when Ellia Martell died, and Rhaegar was free to marry her, or perhaps when Viserys, Rhaegar's brother, came of age, but she was tired of that game. Even though Queen Rhaella, and Ellia as well, were both pregnant, and Ellia was unlikely to survive such a strenuous act as childbirth a second time, she had no interest in being a mere carrion crow, taking the leavings of her father's plans and legacy.

Jaime rode at the head of the column, golden hair matched by the shining armor he wore, gilded steel crafted by the best hands in the kingdoms. She had learned much and more in King's Landing, and Jaime had grown in the wake of their father's death as well, becoming a more calm and deliberate leader. He may come to resemble Father on the battlefield, but I'll show the realm that Tywin Lannister's leadership as well did not die with him.

Although she was the first-born of her siblings, it was Jaime who ruled the Rock, and she was growing used to that. They had been born together, two halves of an incomparable whole. He could be the face of their reign to the lords, and the strong sword-arm needed to hold and build power, she would provide the true wits, daggers in the dark, intercepted letters, and the unstoppable ambition to rise. The Targaryens had slighted her father, slighted her house, and held themselves above the laws of gods and men. Perhaps it was time for another house to do the same. When they'd had their dragons, Aegon and his descendants had flown above the other houses of the realm. Without them, their wings were clipped, and it was time to learn that this was a time for lions.

Dr Pearceson said:

Nice update… seems Jaime and Cersei turned out more competent in their specialities than they do in the later booksmarks in the game. I guess it helps when your tutors are Rhaegar and Varys.

I'm wondering who Cersei is going to marry. Robert, and then support his claim? Could Elia have an accident? Stay unmarried?

Click to expand...

A final year did wonders for base stats, but their education traits were kind of cheat-ey. Due to the way that the engine works, because the bookmark date didn't have them with an education flag, it used the default system, where their guardian's education affects the result. So it was mostly a matter of just finding talented tutors in their fields, particularly in Cersei's case. As is, third/fourth tier education would be less likely given their learning. - the only downside was Jaime getting the very uncharacteristic leadership traits (we all pray for organizer, but it never comes), as, lets face it, no one ever uses their ruler for sieges, and leading from the rear cuts duels.

And right! I think Cersei's content to stay unmarried for now (she also makes for a good Master of Whispers, so I'm hesitant to discard her to boot, though she has a good thing going acting as Jaime's de facto co-ruler).