What everyone had forgotten about in the rush of traitors and the birth was that House Martell was supposed to be visiting the Rock.
Luckily, Aunt Genna is terrifying, and soon enough the entire castle was prepared to receive the Princess of Dorne in only two sennights.
His lady mother, though confined to her bed, was not idle either. She penned ravens with the announcement of Tyrion's birth, began planning a tourney in celebration of her and Tyrion's survival against their attempted assassinations, and hired more midwives to help now that she had personally hired Alanna to help the other ladies. Alanna, now with an official patron, had taken over the Maester's old rooms and was searching for a medicine woman or healer to serve other injuries and illnesses that were not under her purview.
Apparently, even Cersei was suffering from the overwhelming pressure, and, in a fit of desperation, had stolen his clothes to pretend to be him for the day. Jaime, because he felt a little bad for her, put on her dress and went about his day as if he were Cersei.
It's not like anyone would notice: both their parents cannot tell them apart if they're not dressed differently. Gerion adores telling the story of how when, the first time Joanna presented the twins to Tywin, she had to quickly check under the frilly baby dress to know that she was handing the correct twin over.
"Cersei!" Septa Olene snapped at Jaime. "What is wrong with you, girl? Again!"
Jaime resisted rolling his eyes and dutifully curtsied, pointing his back foot even as he put weight on it, curving his back just so, and picking up the skirts. It was perfect, but the septa seemed to be having some crisis of nerves at the idea of strong-willed Cersei curtseying incorrectly at the princess on purpose. Why drilling it until Jaime was tempted to throw caution to the wind and start doing handstands from boredom was her solution to stopping Cersei from acting out, he has no idea.
"Your chin ducked too low, again."
Jaime was tempted to just climb out the window, but luckily, the door opened, revealing his savior in the form of his Aunt Genna.
"Cersei," His Aunt said. "With me. The winds were favorable to the Martells, they've arrived early. We must greet them."
Jaime was very, very aware of the fact that he was currently wearing a skirt. He wasn't one to balk at cross-dressing, he had occasionally enjoyed more feminine clothing in his past life and he worked at a gay club. Drag Queens and Kings desensitize you very quickly to a lot . However, if anyone found out about this, Jaime would be skinned alive Bolton style by his father.
"Now?" He asked, voice strangled.
"Yes, girl, now. We mustn't keep our guests waiting." She gave Jaime a critical look up and down, "You're well-dressed, unlike your brother who I had to bring a new doublet for. No need to dawdle, come."
Oh no. There's no escaping.
And Cersei's pretending to be him .
Jaime knows he can mimic Cersei quite well as long as nobody makes him actually embroider or read poetry, but Cersei had a small issue in mimicking him accurately because she tended to be bolder than him. Ohhhh, they're so fucked.
Jaime obediently followed his Aunt through the Rock and towards the courtyard where the Martells would be surely awaiting them.
Cersei made eye contact with him as they entered the courtyard, her chin up just a touch too much, but she was holding her tongue, which meant they haven't been discovered just yet.
Genna ushered him in line, not next to Father as normal, but instead between Cersei and Uncle Kevan.
Cersei gave him a look that clearly meant that she wanted him to play along and play along well. Jaime sent her back a look that said 'yeah, duh' before indicating to her that she should lower her chin and stop acting so proud. Cersei dipped her chin slightly but straightened her spine even more to compensate.
Jaime refrained from sighing. He tried, that's all he can say.
He has said that annoyingly often ever since coming to Westeros.
The Martell procession entered the courtyard, and Jaime immediately straightened, adopting his best haughty look.
Doran Martell did not seem to be in the procession, however, Jaime could spot Oberyn and Elia. Oberyn looked like a young Pedro Pascal, however much more tan. Princess Elia looked to be around 16 or 17, skinny as a stick, but beautiful. Jaime wouldn't be surprised if she starred in a Bollywood movie back home. However the Princess Mariah Martell was breathtaking, she looked like a Hindi bride at her wedding, laden with gold and in a beautiful orange and gold saree that contrasted her red silk dress to make her seem like a human sunset.
"Lord Lannister," The Princess Mariah Martell said genially. "It has been too long."
"It has, Princess," Tywin bowed down to kiss the woman's hand. "Come into my halls and be welcome."
"Thank you for your welcome," The Princess curtseyed. "We've heard what happened once we made port. I will keep your wife and son in my prayers."
The mention of Joanna and Tyrion made Tywin clench his jaw, but thankfully he didn't take it as insult, nodding stiffly in thanks.
Guest Right was one of the holiest and most sacred practices of Westeros. Jaime thinks GRRM once said he based it after an ancient practice, maybe Greek or Roman? He can't remember very well. Either way, it was supposed to be one of their most important laws, and to break it was to welcome curses and death onto you for your dishonorable action. Living here, in this world with these laws, the true gravity of the horrors the man that Jaime called father was capable of made him shiver.
"These are my two youngest: Elia and Oberyn." Mariah indicated to her children, who stepped up, bowing and curtseying at their introduction.
Tywin dipped his chin in acknowledgment, "My eldest two: Jaime and Cersei."
Luckily, they had always practiced bowing and curtseying in tandem, finding moving in chorus amusing due to the reactions they got.
Jaime dipped into a perfect curtsey as Cersei bowed at the exact angle she should.
That probably told Jaime that maybe they should swap places a little less if they could so easily take each others' place and complete their duties, but the switches got him out several boring lessons with the low low price of having to recite the Seven-Pointed Star and spend time with Septa Olene.
As tradition dictated, Jaime slipped out of line to grab the bowl of salt and bread so to pass to their father, who would go on to offer Guest Right to the Martells officially.
How people were able to stick straight salt with the tiniest piece of bread into their mouths without making a face was beyond him. The only time he could lick something salty and not make a face was when he was chasing it with strong tequila, because then he had something else to cringe at.
"My sister, the Lady Genna, and my daughter, Cersei, shall escort you to your rooms where you can get ready for tonight's dinner."
Wait, what?
Tywin continued talking, and Jaime was left to blink blankly at what he missed. He shot a look at his sister for help, but she ignored him. Great.
Right. What were Cersei's lessons on welcoming guests again? The senior lady escorts the senior guest, and Cersei escorts the heir? But would that be Elia or Oberyn? Dorne has the eldest inherit, but the rest of Westeros acknowledges the eldest male.
Genna took Mariah's arm, but Jaime was frozen, eyes darting between Elia and Oberyn.
Would it offend the Dornish if he didn't acknowledge their inheritance traditions? But Jaime only knew the traditions and etiquette surrounding escorting a man.
Fuck it, Jaime isn't taking any chances.
Jaime moved forward and offered both his arms to both Martell children, "Prince Oberyn, Princess Elia."
Elia's eyes sparkled with surprise, and Oberyn grinned. They took his arms, so Jaime couldn't have fucked up that badly.
Until he sees Cersei's and Father's eyes, and he realizes that maybe he should have known this lesson and he did mess up a bit. Damn it.
Genna, however, looked approving, and now Jaime is confused. Did he mess up or not?
Well, no time for wondering. Jaime fell into step behind his Aunt as they walked through the courtyard into the shade of the mountain and the Rock.
"So, Lady Cersei," Oberyn said, a smirk firmly in place. As arrogant and cocky as any 14-year-old boy, though Jaime knew he would never grow out of it. "I heard quite a few rumors on our trip up from the port. Is it true that your Maester was attempting to turn your newest brother into a real lion? That he was born with fur and a tail?"
From the way that both Genna and Mariah tensed from where they were walking ahead of them, they had definitely heard, and were not happy . On the other side of Jaime, Elia looked like she might reach over and attempt to strangle her brother.
Wow. If the rumor that Jaime heard that Joanna wanted to betroth Cersei to Oberyn, they are going to be a match made in hell. A true terror: Cersei and Oberyn, both arrogant and uncaring of what duty demands and ready to speak their mind, damn the consequences.
Jaime sniffed and raised his chin, flipping his hair back with a small flick of his neck. "Then you must have been listening to jesters and mistook them for messengers. Tyrion was poisoned , but he survived and is only afflicted with being born a dwarf. Perhaps you misheard them praise his strength, one of a lion's."
Oberyn looked intrigued and took the chastisement with a laugh, "I must have indeed. Surviving poison is no easy feat, especially for a babe not yet born. Though I have much knowledge of poisons: I seek to perhaps learn more at the Citadel."
Jaime raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, "With the grey rats that seek to attack my House? Listening must truly not be your forte."
That one did cow the man, slapped with the reminder that his mother had a great friendship with Joanna and he was spitting all over it.
"Forgive my younger brother's tactlessness," Elia bit out, looking furious. "It seems that the long journey has also been taxing on his ears and mouth."
Oh, Jaime likes her.
"Words are wind," Jaime agreed. Oh how he loves that quote, he had it tattooed behind his ear in his last life. "Though there will be hopefully less wind-whipped travelling fatigue once you've rested."
"Yes," She agreed. "Hopefully."
Genna and Mariah relaxed slightly from where they walked, but you could still feel their wrath wafting off them in waves. Oberyn is going to be skinned alive by his mother the second their door closes, he's sure of it.
"These shall be your rooms as you stay our guest, Princess Mariah," Genna said, coming to a halt to a hallway lined with servants, all ready to scurry into action and assist the royal family of Dorne the second they twitch.
Jaime hopes that Oberyn won't abuse his power over them. None of the maids, nor any of the manservants, had enough power in their station to properly refuse him if he flirted with them.
"My thanks, Lady Gen–" The Princess Mariah's response was cut off by Oberyn yelping and hopping on one foot.
"Socks!" Jaime recognized the small furball on Oberyn's foot, it was one of his kittens that particularly enjoyed attacking and climbing into boots. Jaime swiftly rescued the cat from any potential harm, plucking the yowling orange cat from the equally yowling Oberyn's boot.
Then, he realized what he had done.
Cersei barely tolerated his cats, and the only reason that she hasn't gone to their parents to complain about Jaime having a whole litter in the rooms they share is that Jaime has been swapping places with her every time he had falconry lessons.
Jaime slowly raised his head from where he cradled his cat to look at his Aunt Genna's face.
Ohhh… if looks could kill, Jaime would be beyond the wall as a wight.
Fuuucck.
"Is that demon cat yours?" Oberyn said, looking at his scratched boots.
"It's my brother's." He lied. Socks started purring in his hands despite being held like a misbehaving ferret.
Elia started giggling madly, to which Oberyn gave her a look of pure betrayal, and now the Princess Mariah looked like regretted having children.
"Thank you, Lady Genna," She sighed. "I can take my children from here."
"Yes, Princess," Genna replied, one hand reaching out to draw Jaime to her side with a bruising grip on his shoulder. "We shall see you at dinner."
They spun on their heel and marched away, Jaime trapped in her grip. He can see his life flashing before his eyes. He's going to end up like Maester Creylen, a skull on a spike, later cleaned and polished so as to sit on the desk of father's solar.
They were only a few hallways away when Genna suddenly switched from holding his shoulder, to pinching his ear.
"You foolish boy !" She hissed, all angry lioness. "What in the Stranger's name do you and Cersei think you're doing?"
Jaime yelped and went on his tippy-toes to follow the direction that she had pulled his ear, "We weren't supposed to be caught!"
"That much is obvious ," Her voice dripped with disdain.
"I don't like falconry but Cersei does, and I am a better dancer than her, and we thought it would be more relaxing if we swapped but then the Martells came early!" Jaime rushed out, "I'm sorry!"
She let go of his ear with force, "The only reason your parents won't hear about this is that if you were Cersei, I very much doubt that the relationship between Houses Lannister and Martell would be salvageable. You were smart to acknowledge both of them as heir, smart to not devolve into an argument with Prince Oberyn when he insulted us, and smart to accept Princess Elia's apology while also stating that our House wouldn't take any more insults from him."
That made him grin, happy to have not actually fucked up like he originally thought he had.
"You are far too much like your mother," Genna sighed. "It should have been you the girl and Cersei the boy."
Jaime made a face, "But my swords!"
Genna shook her head fondly, "Yes, well, no more swapping with your sister. This could have been a terrible scandal."
"Uh…" Jaime looked up at her sheepishly. "I may have maybe never gone to a falconry lesson since the first moon I started? I think people will notice."
Genna gaped at him, "You're supposed to have been attending those for once a sennight for over a year."
"Sorry!" He squeaked, backing up so she couldn't make another swipe at him. Socks, still in his arms and purring, meowed.
"Child," Genna said slowly, taking several deep breaths like she was trying desperately to calm herself. "I do suggest you return to your rooms and swap back before I decide that I'd rather tan both your hides."
Jaime ran like his skirts had caught aflame.