Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire or any of its characters, obviously. Those belong to GRRM.
Of Queens and Kingslayers
by MayorHaggar
There was, Jaime Lannister had to admit, a certain poetry to this. He had skirted death too many times to count in his 37 years of life. Why shouldn't his life be ended at last by the daughter of the king he'd so infamously slain?
She looked every bit the conquering monarch, though perhaps the three dragons at her side had something to do with that. Whatever the case, she looked far more at home seated on the Iron Throne than her father the Mad King ever had in all the years Jaime had been one of his Kingsguard.
She had several of her most trusted advisers clustered around the throne room, but Jaime paid them no heed, save for one familiar face. His chest tightened painfully when he saw his brother amongst the group. He'd known Tyrion had somehow won the Dragon Queen's trust, of course. Tales of her invasion of Westeros, defeat of the false Aegon and claiming of King's Landing had spread like wildfire, and if the tales were correct, Tyrion had played a not insignificant role in all that had happened. But knowing he would see his brother when he was brought before the queen did not make it any easier for Jaime, considering all that had been said and done the last time they'd seen each other, that night that Jaime had helped Tyrion escape from this very city.
Jaime met his brother's mismatched eyes, and saw reflected in them the same contrasting pain and affection that he himself was feeling. Jaime quickly looked away, unwilling to lose his composure. He would face his demise with whatever shreds of dignity he had left intact.
"Stand him up," the queen said, and Jaime was surprised to find that she didn't sound as eager as he'd anticipated ever since he'd been captured by her forces near Saltpans. Nevertheless, the queen spoke, and her subjects hastened to obey. Two of her Unsullied yanked Jaime up from his knees none too gently and forced him to his feet. He wobbled for a moment, but quickly righted himself and looked at the queen as she stood from her throne and walked down towards him, flanked on either side by old Barristan Selmy and a large, balding man Jaime did not recognize. As she drew nearer, Jaime got his first good look at her. She was undeniably beautiful, but Jaime saw a warrior's fierceness in her as well. This girl had had no easy life, but she had overcome every obstacle set in her path and reclaimed her father's throne. Jaime admired her in a way, even if she was about to execute him.
"I have thought about this meeting often, Ser Jaime," she said, her voice even and collected. "When I was a young girl, my brother would rant and rave about the Kingslayer, the White Sword who betrayed and murdered the very king he'd sworn to protect with his life. How Viserys dreamed of taking back our father's stolen throne, and mounting your head on a spike for all the realm to see!"
"He didn't make it, I see," Jaime quipped. Even now, he could not hold his tongue. Not that it mattered; his life was forfeit regardless.
"No, he didn't," Daenerys said, "but I did. I succeeded where my brother failed, and took back what is mine by right. And now I have you before me, in the very same room you murdered my father, your king. Though it seems you've misplaced the hand you used to slit his throat."
"I've grown rather attached to my new one, in truth," Jaime said, waving his golden hand around theatrically. "But I suppose I won't have much use for it once you lop off my head."
"It's nothing less than you deserve," the queen said mildly. "Or are you going to try and convince me that you don't deserve to die?"
"I will not. I deserve this fate," Jaime said. A vision of the Stark child he'd crippled flashed through his mind's eye, and he knew it was true.
"You surprise me," Daenerys admitted. "Most men in your position would beg and plead for mercy, and pledge to do whatever required in order to make amends."
"I am not most men."
"So I am learning. However, even if you won't plead with me, another has already done so on your behalf. Your brother Tyrion has implored me to spare your life."
Jaime's head snapped back, and he looked past the queen and towards his brother. Tyrion looked back at him solemnly, but nodded. In spite of himself, Jaime smiled. Regardless of all that had come between them, his brother still cared for him.
"He did, did he?" Jaime said, ostensibly in response to Daenerys, but he continued to look straight at his brother. "That shouldn't surprise me. My brother has always been a far better man than I." Jaime could see Tyrion's eyes well up, and he hastily turned his head back to the queen. He couldn't bear to see that, not now.
"He has also been of great service to me," Daenerys said. "I was loath to trust him at first, but Lord Tyrion has been invaluable in helping me learn how to harness and control the power of my dragons. Without him, I likely would not have been able to return to King's Landing and take back my throne."
"Ironic, that you would trust a Lannister after the part my father and I played in your family's downfall," Jaime said, and the queen shrugged.
"I was slow to trust him, but eventually I came to see that he was not his father—nor his brother. And his tale about putting a crossbow bolt through his father's bowels didn't hurt either," she added with a smirk that sent a shudder through Jaime. "He may be a Lannister, but he is also my trusted adviser, and I am indebted to him. So I will grant him this favor, and spare your life."
That had been about the last thing Jaime would ever have expected this girl to say. "Truly? And why would you do that? Aren't you afraid I will do to you what I did to your father?"
"What do I have to fear from you?" she asked dismissively. "Your sword hand isn't the only thing you've lost—you've lost your home, your family, your bannermen, your honor. You pose no threat to me. And besides, this will be the last time you are ever close enough to even entertain the possibility. One of the conditions of my mercy is that you board a ship departing Westeros, and never return. Casterly Rock will go to Tyrion, and if you ever set foot on Westeros again, you will be put to death. Will you abide by these terms, or shall I prepare a spike?
"The first option, if you please. There is nothing binding me to Westeros any longer. And inheriting the Rock has been my brother's right from the moment I donned my soiled white cloak, so he is welcome to it. He'll make a much better ruler than I ever would have."
"Very well. You and your brother may say your farewells tonight, and I will arrange for a ship to take you to Pentos on the morrow. Where you go from there is none of my affair, so long as you never come back here."
He clearly wasn't expected to reply, as she nodded and turned her back to him. Jaime ignored the look of disdain Selmy gave him, and instead thought of his pending farewell with his brother. What would he say? What would Tyrion say? Did he truly poison Joffrey? Would he forgive Jaime for what had happened to Tysha?
"Do you regret it?"
Startled, Jaime's contemplation was broken. The queen had turned back around to face him again, her expression unreadable. "Do you regret killing my father?"
Jaime wondered what she wanted to hear. Did she hope he would offer an empty apology, or did she want the truth? If he answered her honestly, would she take his life after all?
"I have lived a life full of regrets," Jaime said finally, thinking once more of the Stark boy, but also of Cersei, their children, his father, all dead, while the gods had seen fit to spare him for whatever reason. "Slitting your father's throat is not among them. I would do it again, honor and vows be damned."
She stared at him in silence for several long moments, and Jaime wondered whether she was reconsidering her mercy. To her left, Barristan the Bold muttered in disgust.
"You are a disgrace to the cloak, Kingslayer," he said, and fingered the hilt of his sword. "I implore you, Your Grace, allow me to put him to death, as should have been done years ago!"
The queen dismissed Selmy with a shake of her head. "There will be no blood spilled in my throne room, Ser Barristan. Not today." She turned away once again, and walked back towards her throne. Her Unsullied gripped Jaime's arms and prepared to escort him out, but before Jaime was led away, the queen spoke to him one final time.
"May I never see you again, Kingslayer."
"Do not worry on that score, Your Grace," Jaime said, and he did not struggle as he was removed from the throne room for the final time. Much of his past was tied into that room, and what had transpired inside of it so many years earlier. Now it was time for him to look to his future, such as it was.
Perhaps he would go to Braavos, and make sure that Brienne and Sansa had arrived safely and settled in while he had lingered to draw the queen's attention and buy them some time. Or perhaps he would spend the rest of his life drinking and whoring, like that dead oaf Robert Baratheon. Either way, he would leave Westeros, never to return. And to Jaime Lannister, the crippled knight, the man without honor, the oathbreaker who all Seven Kingdoms reviled, that didn't sound too bad at all.
A/N: My first foray into ASOIAF, despite having read and loved the books over 6 years ago. Just a short little oneshot that popped into my head a couple of days ago and demanded to be written. Oh, and I'd also like to post it over at AO3, so if anyone has an invite to spare, it would be much appreciated.