Hit me at lannisterwhite for any plotting/planning/crack/random conversations >:3
Tyrion could sense the tension. No Valyrian steel could ever manage to cut through it. So was the way of the Lannister children. He knew the animosity, the hatred Cersei felt towards him. He couldn’t deny it bothered him. No. He could never deny something as serious as that. But he had learned to live with it, to deal with her constant lethal, green-eyed looks, the subtle, yet poisonous threats that slipped into her every word. He could tell by the way she tried so hard to avert her eyes from him, to turn her body closer to Jaime that she was annoyed. So very annoyed. He may have been only a child. But a fool he was not.
Tyrion couldn’t help but grin. A grin that he quickly hid by lowering his face to his lap, listening to the quiet breathing amongst the three of them.
“I do hope it’s soon. I think everyone here could use some fresh air. A change of scenery, perhaps?” With his last words, he glanced up, catching both of their eyes before slowly averting his to his lap once again.
He didn’t know what to do with his hands, now he wasn’t holding a sword and he couldn’t really touch Cersei, not here, to drive off the anger he could now see running just under her skin. In the end he left them on the back of her chair, knuckles tight against the urge to close the space between them. Words would have to do, for now.
“Do you really so loathe the thought of me in white?” he asked, turning his gaze from Tyrion entirely and his voice turned softer under the amusement. There was no denying he was looking forward to the jousting, but that was secondary, unimportant. There would always be people to fight in this world. But to don the white cloak—an honor, and a way out of the marriages their father was already orchestrating, and then—beyond and above it all a way to stay with Cersei, finally. Surely she understood this—she must. Her idea, Jaime thought wryly, and it held no bitterness. And one whose benefits Tyrion might even get to appreciate, of all the wonders.
“And to think you’ve just come from the Rock,” he said now to his brother, before he could start asking about what he’d just told Cersei. He did not think Tyrion would tell, even if he knew—but why take the risk when he could find out the same as everyone else, and soon? “Did you tire so quickly of the city? You can’t have been out that much.”
A feeling of relief washed over Tyrion. No matter what Cersei had up her sleeve, she wouldn’t dare do anything when Jaime was around. He couldn’t help but break out into a wide smile.
“Brother, it’s so good to see you. Our dear sister here was beginning to worry I think.” He flashed Cersei his signature smile, daggers and all. His eyes met Jaime’s again. “She’s just finished scolding me about ruining my eyesight. I’m assuming that is what your next comment towards me was going to be about?” Humor gleamed in his mismatched eyes, the smile still strong on his face.
Don’t throw a candle in his face don’t throw a candle in his face, she thought desperately, and clenched her hands at her sides. She turned to Jaime.
“I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t even looking. I was walking by and I saw our little brother sitting here, ruining his eyes. I won’t have it. You know how father complains about him as it is.”
Lord Tywin would never speak against Tyrion aloud, at least not in front of his other children, but the icy wall between him and his youngest was no secret, and Cersei’s words might easily have been true. Even as she said it, Cersei could feel her stomach drop. Jaime wasn’t going to be happy with her.
“I was merely about to point out the benefits of some fresh air—though our sweet sister has a point.” He smiled back, though there was no hiding the sharp edge it took when he caught the less than loving exchange of looks between his siblings. Was it really too much to ask for them to get along?
Apparently, yes. “I know, Cersei.” One would have to be blind not to notice how their father was not exactly fond of the third child. Or how his daughter shared his sentiment. “Kind of you to worry about him,” he drawled. A warning look to Tyrion, clearly spelling Do not antagonize her. That they could not even keep it to their chambers, where at least privacy was assured, rankled.
“When are we leaving, do you know? I’ve seen the preparations going on, but things are rather slow in the going.”
The smallest Lannister sat at a table, surrounded by tablets and opened books. His mismatched eyes scanned page after page of the large, dusty book propped up in front of him. He stopped every so often to adjust himself on the cushions underneath him. There had been so much talk of the tourney that he had hardly gotten a moment’s peace.
As the eight-year-old thumbed through pages, he sighed deeply, too deeply for one of his young age. He wasn’t exactly sure he was looking forward to this tournament. Being in public made him feel nervous. He knew people watched him, stared, whispered behind their hands. This time would be no different. But he was a Lannister. And it was his duty to be present.
Leaning his head on the open palm of his hand, he continued to read, completely ignoring the now dimming light of the candles he had placed on the table.
She had been looking for Jaime, which she probably shouldn’t have been. It had been a long day and her stomach hurt, and all she wanted was to speak to him, if she could not have him hold her. He was rarely around lately, and when he was it was all talk of the tourney. I DON’T CARE, she wanted to scream at him sometimes, but honestly it was just good to hear his voice.
It was not that she expected to find him anywhere near books, but she was checking everywhere, and when she saw Tyrion at the table— so large that it made him seem more of a dwarf than he already was —she stopped in her tracks.
If not one brother to love, than perhaps another to loath, she thought, and stepped into the room.
“You shouldn’t read in the dark,” she said, and though she tried for a sickly sweet smile, none came. “It ruins your eyes.”
Upon hearing a voice, her voice, he peered up from the book, then glanced at the candles, which were on the brink of becoming puddles. “Since when have you become so invested in my eyesight, sweet sister?” He looked back at her, closing his book.
Tyrion stared at her for a few minutes as she stood there, golden and perfect, the complete image of Jaime. His golden half. His brow furrowed, but only slightly as he straightened himself in the chair.
“If you’re looking for Jaime, which I’m assuming you are, he’s off and about again.” He smiled, that smile he knew she hated. “Please, come and sit with me. It’s the least I can offer you until he pops up.” He motioned with his hand towards an empty chair across the table from him.
She found herself taking the seat without really meaning to. She didn’t want his company, but she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts either, and she certainly didn’t want to go back to searching for Jaime, since whatever she did when she found him— whether she kissed him or killed him —would hardly be discreet. And discretion is the only thing that mattered. That she knew quite well.
“Oh, brother,” she said slowly. She hated calling him brother, even in jest. Jaime was her brother, not this creature with his nose always in a book. “It’s just that your eyes are the only parts of you that are good for anything, and without them— well, we’d have to put you down. It would be such a messy affair, and Jaime would probably tear up, otherwise I wouldn’t think twice about it.”
This time the smile came, and it was cruel.
To find someone in the Red Keep was not the easiest thing, and when both parties were moving it was twice the ordeal. Back from the training grounds, bathed and clad with clean clothes, he’d gone in search of Cersei, and when that search had proved fruitless he’d decided to look instead for his brother. That was usually easier, and he knew Tyrion could use the company. Books could only do so much, after all, and it was his brotherly duty to make sure he didn’t ruin his eyesight before his tenth name day.
He hadn’t quite expected to find Cersei had beaten him to their brother. Past the first rush of gladness at finding he took in the situation, wary. The smile he caught on Cersei’s face meant bad news, and he wished he could kiss it away.
He would have to make do with less pleasant distractions. “Brother, sister,” he said, loud enough that they were sure to hear him coming. “I was looking for you,” he told Cersei, casually leaning in behind her, fingers brushing against her back in unspoken greeting. “You weren’t in your chambers.”Then he smiled at Tyrion, an attempt at bridging and ignoring the tension with the ease of long practice. “I hope you haven’t been here all day.”
Damn… Is it really possible that EVERYONE here is north american?
Eurasian here :P
Really? That’s cool, man XD
From what country?
Damn… Is it really possible that EVERYONE here is north american?
Eurasian here :P
REBLOG WITH YOUR TIMEZONE, Y’ALL (?!). And names, while we’re at it. Heck, let’s do the whole shebang?!
Timezone: PST (GMT-8)
Age (or approximation): University level
Random Fact: When I was learning how to waterskii, I was so nervous I refused to let go of the rope the first time I fell. I was dragged behind the boat for a while. It was interesting.
TEAM BONDING TIME
Timezone: GMT +1
Random fact: I am physically incapable of finishing video games. I’ll play up until juuust before the final boss, then wander off to do sidequests and be forever LOLNOPE YOU CAN’T MAKE ME FIGHT YOU. It drives my brother mad.
Personal tumblr: sevetirdenuit
(Source: roberts-rebellion-rp, via )
(late to the party, you people are fast
and i am ridiculously slow)
Jaime here is still young, not yet Kingslayer—not quite even Kingsguard yet, as that happens at Harrenhal; the fissure lines have yet to make themselves known.
Obviously there’s no need of much headcanon needed when it comes to Jaime’s relationships thanks to ASoS and AFfC, but let’s just set down what we know/are going to work with.
He has his sister and lover and mirror in Cersei. True extent of the relationship obviously kept a secret. She’s the most important person in his life; he is an extension of her, and she of him, one soul in two bodies, etc, at this point of time he’ll do basically anything for her (e.g. agreeing to her plan of having him join the Kingsguard to be close to her, losing all rights to his inheritance in the process).
Loves his brother Tyrion. It’s probably the most “normal”, least complicated relationship Jaime has—he’s Tyrion’s big brother and so he’ll protect and tease him and do big brother things. I imagine he sometimes finds himself between mediating between Cersei and Tyrion, and if he can’t get his sister to care for Tyrion then at least he can distract her before she crushes him.
Respects his father Tywin, but there’s not much affection here. Tywin Lannister casts a long shadow, and favored son or not, growing up under it is not all happy funtiems. Jaime wants to make his father proud and gain his approval
but things tend to get in the way.
Knighted on the battlefield by Arthur Dayne.
Pretty much everyone else that I can think of relevant to this RP he hasn’t met yet, or only in passing; Harrenhal will let us fix that. Will expand here as things advance.
Jaime Lannister | Sixteen | FC: Bradley James | Taken
Jaime Lannister, known as the Kingslayer, is the second child and first-born son of Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock and his wife Lady Joanna. Raised to the Kingsguard of the Mad King Aerys Targaryen at the age of fifteen, Jaime was the youngest member of the order in history. He earned his nickname when he slew King Aerys at the end of Robert’s Rebellion.
Jaime and his older twin sister Cersei were inseparable in their early childhood, going as far as to experiment together in a sexual manner at a young age. During one of these encounters, they were caught by a servant who informed their mother. Jaime’s bedchamber was immediately moved to the other side of the castle, and both twins were told never to do anything like that ever again.
At age nine, he lost his mother, who died birthing his younger brother Tyrion. Even though Tyrion is a malformed dwarf, Jaime seems to show genuine love towards him as a brother.
At the age of eleven, Jaime was sent to Crakehall to become a squire for Ser Sumner Crakehall. Two years later, while still a squire, he won his first tourney melee. At the age of fifteen, Jaime was knighted on the battlefield by Ser Arthur Dayne during the campaign against the Kingswood Brotherhood. He later stopped at King’s Landing to visit his sister, from whom he had been separated for years. It was there that Cersei told him that Lord Tywin intended to marry him to Lysa Tully, second daughter of Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun. Cersei suggested that Jaime become a member of the Kingsguard instead, replacing the recently deceased Ser Harlan Grandison, to be close to her and free himself of the unwanted marriage to Lysa. After a night of passionate sex he gave his consent to Cersei’s plan. A moon’s turn later, Jaime was raised to the Kingsguard at a ceremony at Harrenhal by Ser Gerold Hightower, making him the youngest ever to be raised to the order.