Crying Wolf
A Song of Ice and Fire, and all associated media, are the property of George R. R. Martin.
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Rhaella Targaryen no longer felt spine-tingling terror when her husband stared at her with those tell-tale, mad eyes of his. Eyes that promised nothing but pain and humiliation. For when he looked at her like that, he did not look at her sons—dear Rhaegar and sweet Viserys—in a similar manner. That alone made her lot in life easier to bear.
Plus, she would be spending at least a week without him clawing, biting, and beating her body after tonight. Another, slight ease.
The only thing that made her truly sad that night was the acceptance of the latest member of her husband's Kingsguard. Jaime Lannister. A very handsome young man, with a smile coming so easily to his face one could not help but wonder how on earth he came from Tywin's seed.
He had Joanna's eyes too. His sister, Cersei, had those same eyes…She much preferred them on him.
It further pained her heart to see his face scrunch up in confusion as her husband, nails digging into her skin, dragged her into their temporary dwelling. Before she was shoved inside, she could see his face fall as Gerold Hightower no doubt told him what they allowed Aerys to do her.
Oh…now those really looked like dear Joanna's eyes.
But she couldn't dwell on that. For if she did, then she would be forced to remember how Aerys had tried to ruin that woman as well, and then what came next would only be all the more miserable.
He held her close to him, rasping heavily, rancid breath assaulting her nose. He then raised a hand to the neck of her dress, harshly pulling on it, tearing it to shreds.
Ah…that had been a gift from Elia. Such a sweet girl. A shame Rhaegar didn't love her, not properly. But then, how would he know what a proper, loving marriage looked like?
Aerys quickly clamped his teeth around her left breast, biting down hard on a yet-to-fade imprint of his teeth.
She winced at the pressure but didn't scream. He liked it when she screamed. Of course, she would scream before he was done—she was no hardened warrior, capable of holding out under the worst tortures—but she always did her best to hold out until after he'd 'marked his territory'. Lest he try and find yet unspoiled skin.
He roughly slapped her ass, nails digging into her flesh. This time he did draw blood; which only spread further as he raked his hand down her thigh, drawing thin streams of red along with it.
His other hand cupped her sex, and he reached a cracked nail towards her pearl.
Now, she could not help but gasp as he stabbed her sensitive nub. She then sobbed as she felt his lips curl into a self-satisfied smile.
She'd failed her self-appointed task. And now she would pay the price.
Aerys pulled back. "On the bed," he hissed. When she did not move as quickly as he wanted, he struck her. She cried out as she fell down, knowing better than to try and soothe her cheek.
Aerys stepped closer, undoing his breeches, "You'd better be with child upon my return!"
She wouldn't be. Not even out of spite. It simply wasn't her time. Of course, the one-time she'd dared to bring it up, he'd nearly tore off her arm, screaming that he was a dragon, and he'd have a child whenever he pleased.
She heard that dreadful sound of leather falling to the floor, and she dared to look down at her husband. Gods, it was so disgusting! As sickly as him!
He crawled onto the bed, lips pulling back to reveal his yellowing teeth in all their glory. He climbed up over her, his cock hovering just above her entrance.
With a proud, manic smile on his face, pulled back, surged forward, and missed. Rather, he bent.
He scowled, pulling back and trying again, and still he bent. He grasped his cock in one hand, digging his nails into her hips, and slammed forward. Their bodies met with painful force, but again, he bent.
A delirious laugh slipped past Rhaella's lips. A terrible mistake, she knew, but Gods above if it wasn't funny!
He gave up on his failed coupling in favor of battering her with his fists. It was then that she started to truly cry out. Pleading for help that she knew would never come. From people that are were too willing to leave her to her fate.
Aerys must have grown tired of her screams, for he soon wrapped his hands around her neck, squeezing.
SHUNK
Suddenly, Aery's face slackened, grip loosening. He opened his mouth, spitting blood onto her face. And then he fell atop her.
Rhaella gasped as his weight—however small—crashed into her. And then she saw the knife in his back.
Frantically, she gazed up, heart stilling at the dark-robed figure standing just before her. They had a hood pulled up over thier face, but she could a pair of masculine lips curled into a cold smile. The assassin brought his hand up, placing a finger upon his lips. "Shh…" he whispered.
He then turned, pulling at a small hole within the tent, tearing it wider until he could slip away.
It was only after he disappeared that she remembered to scream.
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Jaime Lannister gulped when the Queen's pained gasp filtered outside her tent. He looked over at his new Commander. "Ser Hightower," he began.
Only for the man to cut him off with a sad shake of the head.
Suddenly, this seemed like a bad idea.
"AIIEEE! HELP! HELP!"
Jaime jolted, hand on the pommel of his blade as he turned towards the tents entrance. Only for Ser Gaunt to grab onto his shoulder. "It's not our place lad," he solemnly stated.
"HELP! HELP ME! PLEASE!"
Jaime clenched his fist, setting his face in stone as he turned away, facing forward.
"HELP!"
He was Kingsguard now.
"SOMEONE!"
He had a duty.
"PLEASE! FATHER! MOTHER!"
To the King…and the King alone.
Thankfully, her screams grew silent. He almost laughed; how on earth could that be a good thing?
"MURDER!"
At that Jaime whirled around, drawing his blade. Only for, again, one of his elders to place a hand on his shoulder. It was Ser Whent this time. "Do you not hear her?" Jaime exclaimed, "She's crying murder!"
"HELP! MURDER!"
But Whent shook his head, "I'm sorry lad, but we can't."
"She's done it before," Ser Hightower spoke up, "We burst in, only to see Aerys standing over her." He sighed, "She only cries like that when Aerys is truly…irritated by her."
Jaime paled at that information. Was that to be his duty? Stand watch over a King whose wife cried out with fear every night.
"THE KING HAS BEEN MURDERED!"
His elder 'brothers' stilled.
"That's…new," Whent began.
"She must truly be desperate," Gaunt concluded.
"Maybe we should—"
"We cannot," Ser Hightower stated over another cry of 'murder'. "We have our orders.
"FOR THE SEVEN'S SAKE! THE KING HAS BEEN MURDERED!"
"Oh, I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight," Ser Whent muttered.
"Arthur was gifted some Dornish wine by the Martells," Ser Gaunt replied. "The good stuff. Should knock you out after a couple gulps."
Ser Whent snorted, "Doubt it. Now Northern ale, that's a drink!"
Jaime's eyes widened as the conversation continued, until Ser Hightower told them to knock it off, anyway. Is this how they did it? How they coped?
Eventually, the Queen stopped screaming—well, as loudly at any rate.
"Thank the Seven," Ser Hightower breathed.
Jaime sighed in relief as well, before a horrifying thought occurred to him. "Does…has anyone heard the King?"
Sers Whent and Gaunt eyed him quizzically, but Ser Hightower, given the way he paled, seemed to understand. He drew his blade—prompting the rest of them to do the same—and rushed into the tent. After entering the King's quarters, he cursed up a storm. Sers Gaunt and Whent, just ahead of Jaime, gasped in horror. And Jaime…all he could do was stare at the terrified woman trapped beneath the King's corpse.
"Did you not hear me?!" she screeched hoarsely, "Why did you not come?!"
Hightower swore once more, "Fuck! Gaunt," the Crownlander nodded, "With me! Whent!" The Riverlander hefted his sword and shield, "Stay with the Queen. Lannister! Gather the rest of the Kingsguard and take the Royal Family into Harrenhal. Dayne know where."
Jaime nodded, running outside; bitterly cursing the fact that his first day—no, not even an afternoon—as Kingsguard would forever be marked by failure.
A/N: Something, something, desensitization…I have no idea why I wrote this…Be sure to leave a review. Later.