Jaime

In truth, it hadn't taken Jaime long to learn the harsh realities of the world. It took only one burning of a man who didn't truly deserve it. Followed by the terrified screams of the queen that evening to bring the truth of his life crashing upon him.

He'd always idealized knights. Striving to be the best with the sword and honorable as well. That was what a knight was in the stories, a skilled and valiant warrior who protects the weak and vulnerable. That was what he thought he'd become when the Sword of the Morning knighted him on the battlefield. That was what he thought the Kingsguard was when Cersei proposed his joining to avoid marrying the Tully girl and to keep them close together at court.

Perhaps once upon a time it had been. But now it was a mask to be worn posing as honor. It was gilded armor and white cloaks that were costumes meant to show their status.

It wasn't long before Jaime saw past the mask he hadn't known he had donned. He was a knight, but he wasn't expected to protect anyone but a paranoid king who burned people alive for joy, and then raped his queen with the ash still on his cloak.

He'd always been in awe of these costumed knights, relishing in the stories of the great Kingsguard warriors and how they held the most honorable position that could be achieved, protecting the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. When he first visited Kings Landing to see his father and sister he sought out the training yard and spent hours watching the knights train, watching their moves and knowing he could match them all if given the chance.

But, if he was honest, he hadn't truly considered joining the prestigious order until Cersei put it in his mind. He had imagined, played pretend some days, but when she told him that he could do it and that if he did they'd be together in Kings Landing it was all that occupied his mind until the cloak was secured on him at Harrenhal.

He'd never felt more honorable than when Ser Gerold Hightower raised him to the Kingsguard. That feeling of pride and honor continued even after he learned his father was no longer the hand and that Cersei would no longer be in Kings Landing. He'd been disappointed and angry at their father but his pride in his new position didn't begin to deteriorate until he saw the first man burn to death.

As his first year as a knight of the Kingsguard went by Jaime became quite proficient at blocking the horror out, escaping within himself to avoid facing the truth of what happens in the Red Keep. At first he'd been angry when he found that the others looked the other way at the kings' actions. But he learned quickly to say nothing when his Lord Commander himself told him that they had vowed to protect the king, not to judge him.

So he did that, when the king decided a man's punishment would be burning Jaime turned his thoughts to Casterly Rock and his sister. When he was to guard the queens' door and could hear her cries as the King raped her Jaime recalled the words to songs he'd learned as a child to drown the noise.

Now Jaime stands once more at the foot of the Iron Throne. The skulls of ancient dragons watching as the Starks are brought before Aerys Targaryen. Brandon Stark and Alys Stark had arrived first with a party of men accompanying. Brandon Stark had apparently yelled outside the walls of the city for the crown prince Rhaegar to come out and die. He and his party were thrown in the black cells of the Keep. The king summoned all their fathers to answer charges of plotting to kill the prince. Jaime learned not long after their arrest that Rhaegar had run off with the other Stark girl, the one he'd crowned Queen of Love and Beauty at the Tourney Jaime had become a Kingsguard at.

The others in the party and their fathers were executed, save for some Glover boy and the Starks themselves. The father had demanded a trial by combat and Jaime had felt his stomach drop as he cursed the Northern lords' idiocy.

Now the day was here, Jaime stood by the throne and his eyes followed as the Starks entered, the father and son ahead of the daughter. Jaime noted she looked as young as him, or perhaps younger by a year or two. He forced the realization of her fate from his mind and instead wondered of whether Tyrion had written him back yet.

He wasn't surprised when the king declared fire as his champion, nor when the Starks began to protest and struggle as they were restrained and prepared. The father was put into a suit of armor, and the son chained by the throat. Jaime moved without thought when he was told to restrain the daughter, she struggled against him but he held her in place with no true difficulty.

Was she to be spared? He wondered, or perhaps burned after her family. He heard her cries as the fire was lit and her father's own screams began as he was cooked alive in his suit of armor. She still struggled against Jaime's grasp as her brother was choked while reaching for the sword that would allow him to cut his father free.

It was only when her father's screams died and her brothers' breath left him that she lost the fight, falling limp in his arms and her sobs quieting to a silent numbness. While the king declared his 'champions' victory, the Kings hand, Owen Merryweather, instructed Jaime to take the girl to a room in the maiden vault, and guard the door until it was decided what to do with her. Jaime simply nodded and left the throne room with her, glad to move away from a far too familiar stench.

He would say he escorted her to her new rooms but in truth it was more as though he was dragging her through the red keep. She leaned heavily upon him and her feet dragged more than they walked, Jaime couldn't help but wonder if he should say something. But what would he even say?

He stops outside the room Merryweather had instructed him to put her in and opens the door slowly. She pauses outside it and he wonders if he'll have to drag her in. But it's only a brief pause before she follows his lead into the room, still resting heavily on him but less as though he were pulling her along and more as though she didn't trust herself to stay upright without him.

One glance around the room he recognizes why Merryweather told him this one. There were no windows within the room, and the room itself was close to the guard quarters and far from any significant exits of the keep. He slowly led the Stark girl to the bed and waited until she'd sat herself and seemed as though she wouldn't collapse before he headed for the door.

"Wait…" her voice was barely a sound, but it was a broken one. He paused, considering the merits of ignoring her, he had no reason to speak with her, if he let himself think of the reality of this situation he would know it would be better to simply leave as she'll likely be dead soon enough.

But he hardly thought things through with honest effort, so he turned and looked at her. Her eyes were grey like stone and wide as they looked at him, begging for something from him that he couldn't give. She wiped at her cheek as she seemed to mull over what she had meant to say. "What…" she pauses once more before finally asking, "what will he do with me?"
Jaime sighed, glancing at the northern girl. She had the Stark look, dark hair and a long face. It was a young face. But that wouldn't save her if Aerys got the itch to burn her alive, nothing could save someone with that fate. But as her eyes stared him down, awaiting an answer Jaime knows she doesn't want, he can't find the heart to inform her of her future. So he simply shrugs, "I haven't a single clue," before leaving the room and taking his position in front of her door.

Alys

She believes it has been near four days before she sees anyone other than a handmaid or guard. She believes this due to the amount of times food has been brought to her. She hasn't eaten much of it, especially the first day and half, but she recalls them bringing it. Twice a day, what she can only assume is in the morning and in the evening. Though she hasn't been sure which was which as she hardly has left her bed unless pulled from it.

After the man who'd brought her there, a member of the Kingsguard she believes, left her with little idea of what was intended with her she found no way to distract her thoughts. She found patches of ash stuck to her skin or clothes and so she'd stripped herself quickly, rubbing her skin raw with the water left in the room until she was clear and throwing her clothes off into a corner while wishing there was a window to throw them out of.

She'd found the room empty of any other clothes, and thus she simply crawled under the far too warm and soft covers of her bed and let herself be smothered by them until consciousness left her.

Sleep was no more pleasant than being awake.

In sleep she found her dreams filled only with the throne room, green fire licking at the armor her father wears and the sight of her brother struggling against a collar to free him. The first night she woke choking as though she was still breathing in the ash.

When she is awake it's hard to not think of it. The smell, the sight, the feeling of the heat from flames or the sounds of screaming and choking. It assaulted her senses to the point where she started to feel as though she were to die. But then a handmaiden came in, with a plate of food and a basin of water for her. She appeared to notice Alys' lack of sleep and the next meal had come with dream wine to grant her a hopefully dreamless night of rest.

It worked, only barely. She'd be granted a few hours of rest before her dreams turned to fire and ash. When she was awake she found herself trying to occupy her mind. She found a small and dusty book in a drawer and read it over and over. She counted the flowers upon the bedding, finding seventy-one flowers decorating it before she counted all other items in the room.

Her mind would still find any second of emptiness to fill with her grief.

She was nibbling slowly at a piece of bread, tearing bits off as small as she could, when a man entered her room.

Another Kingsguard, she noted. They wore gilded armor and cloaks of white, and looked different than the common guards who often stood outside her door and let in the handmaid.

"My lady," the man gave a slight bow, "your presence is requested in the Great Hall." He was kind looking, his blue eyes gazing at her with a large amount of sympathy. He was older than the other who'd brought her to the room. "I'll leave you to dress, but I would suggest you go quickly, my lady."
Alys simply nodded, she hadn't spoken since the first day, she wasn't entirely sure a voice could come out if she tried. Still she moved towards the wardrobe and pulled the first dress her hand came upon. The handmaid who had tended her these last few days had filled it, spare dresses that have no home. They fit well enough, the one Alys slid on only a bit loose around the waist.

She opens her door slowly, and is met with the older knight. He was likely near her father's age she realized. A thought she quickly shoved from her mind and instead focused upon placing the old knight with a name. Not a week ago she would have been able to place the man, looking at him and perhaps a few words spoken she could state his name and perhaps the deed that got him knighted.

But now her knowledge of history and the houses left her, she could hardly even recall all the names of who served in the Kingsguard currently. She knew Ser Arthur Dayne, but that was because she'd met his sister at Harrenhal. Another memory best left from her mind.

She keeps quiet, and the knight is kind enough to grant her a silent walk to the hall. Once she's given up in her quest to recall his name she studies the Red Keep as they walk through.

She admires the decorations upon the halls and whenever they pass a window she looks out at the city she'd once imagined visiting. Giddy and lightheartedly whispering to her sister under the covers of their bed, all before marriage and death had been a part of their lives.

They go outside here and there, passing over bridges to get to other parts of the castle and she breathed a deep breath of clear air, she could almost catch the scent of the Blackwater bay, and she turned to try to catch a glance.

"There," the knight stops, she glances at him quickly worried she's overstepped, but notices he's pointing away from her, "that's the Blackwater that way." She follows his direction and spots it. It's a pretty image, she thinks, the sun is reflecting off the water in an almost mesmerizing way. And all those ships. She looks to them with fascination in her, did her father come by ship? Or did he ride south like they had? If he sailed would his ship still be there, a northern ship surrounded by southern sails.

"Thank you," she manages once they continue.

He simply nods his head in reply and they continue on.

She looks at him once more. Barristan Selmy, she decides on finally. Barristan the Bold as he could be called. He fit the tales she'd heard well enough.

She needed to be bold now, she thinks, as they walk towards the Great Hall. Bold like Barristan is said to be. Bold like Lyanna. Bold like Brandon.

It was the kings Hand that she met in the Great Hall. The chain of the hand hanging in a heavy way around his neck. He greeted her kindly enough, though she watched him warily. How could she not? He was the kings hand, he should have been able to stop what happened to her father and brother. Advised Aerys against burning them.

She stands at the base of the throne, looking up at Owen Merryweather where he stands upon the dais. He doesn't sit upon the throne, but she can understand that enough, the reason the King was not here currently was due to a cut upon one of its many blades. It was a frightfully sharp thing, and far more foreboding in person she.

Others are in the throne room, the lords and ladies who stay at court, castle guards and a few of the Kingsguard as well. She doesn't look too closely at anyone here. Keeping her attention instead to the man who would tell her fate.

"My Lady," Merryweather looks down at her, he looks tense, his face wrinkled perpetually and redness on his neck. "Your father and brother have been declared traitors to King Aerys and the Seven Kingdoms after asserting a threat against the crown prince. Your brother Eddard, and the Storm Lord Robert Baratheon have also been declared traitors to the crown by his grace. Lord Arryn has been informed of their treacherous plans and will deal with them as is expected of a loyal vassal."

Ned's done nothing. She thinks, does he even know of any of this yet? Of Lyanna, of Father and Brandon? Of me? But she holds her tongue, what could she say? If she speaks against this claim she'll be likely to burn, her ashes to mix with the others burnt before her, to mix with father and Brandon. So she is quiet as he informs her of her status here at court.

"A ward of the crown," He states, "and hostage." He adds hastily before continuing. "You will be kept here at court, watched and guarded by a member of the Kingsguard so that the north with will remain loyal to the crown." So that Benjen will be a loyal lord of the north, lord of Winterfell once Ned is dead. Kept in obedience with the threat of his last family dying.

As she is given leave from Merryweather to be escorted back to the Maidenvault she turns her thoughts to Ned. He is Lord of Winterfell now. He is Lord Stark, with father and Brandon both gone. But he's in the Vale, far from home and far from her. She didn't know the Vale well, only that it prided itself on its honor. Would Jon Arryn turn on her brother? Ned had told her he was like a second father to him. But the Vale was known to for chivalry and honor, would their loyalty to the crown be enough to make Jon Arryn forsake Ned?

Please, she prays silently as Barristan walks her back to her room. Please Gods, old and new, protect my brother.