Jaime could feel and hear the blood coursing through his veins at the moment. He looked down at the blonde-haired woman sat on the Iron Throne, and questioned if he even knew this person anymore.
It was Cersei.
But it also wasn't Cersei. It was as though somebody had taken away the sister he loved, and replaced her with a lookalike.
He had been quietly informed on his return to the Red Keep that King Tommen had died. Fear had immediately bolted into his heart. He remembered, many years ago, how Tyrion had said that Cersei's one redeeming quality was that she loved her children. He had, in private, thought how wrong Tyrion was.
But now, looking down on Cersei, he questioned if that were true. This woman was now childless. And she was sat on that Throne, where her son had sat mere hours before, with a grim expressionless face.
He had no doubt in his mind that it was she who was responsible for the wildfire at the Sept. Cersei had always vowed that the Sparrow and his followers would pay for the damage done to their family - but Jaime had not imagined she would take that to such an extreme.
All of a sudden Jaime felt dizzy, hot, panic stricken.
His mind flashed with Aerys sat there, yelling. Aerys screaming at the pyromancer to "BURN THEM ALL." Aerys demanding that Jaime give him Tywin's head on a plate. Aerys expecting Jaime to sit by and do nothing as half a million people burned alive.
A slow feeling of cold terror grew over Jaime then.
He had killed a King who had tried to burn King's Landing.
And now he was staring at a Queen who had done exactly what Jaime had killed Aerys for trying to do.
Jaime had to turn away, his hand tightly clenched as he wrestled with nightmares in his brain.
He needed to speak with Cersei.
And then he needed to find Bronn.
He had not worn that 'Kingslayer' title so painfully for so many years to then have his sister do what he lost his honour for trying to prevent happen.
Tears of rage and sorrow stung at Jaime's eyes as he left the Throne Room.
He had just prevented a massacre at Riverrun, and returned to King's Landing to find a massacre had occurred in his absence.
—
The deafening roar of the Sept collapsing could be both heard and felt across all of King's Landing - from the Red Keep all the way down to Flea Bottom. There was almost an eerie silence immediately after, followed by panic.
People ran amok down Gin Alley, not caring that they were splashing through human waste. The normal chatter that ran through Flea Bottom was gone, with everyone racing back to their homes, to safety. Why their homes would be any safer, given how the Sept had been blown up from beneath, nobody had an answer to - but it was the logic that flew through everybody's mind.
The only place that was still somewhat heaving with business was the Blacksmith's Forge in Flea Bottom. People were suddenly finding stray coppers, silver stags, and the occasional golden dragon in their homes (though the Blacksmith suspected the dragons must be stolen.) They came to the Forge pleading for blades to be made, blades to be sharpened. If the city was to be attacked, they wanted to go down fighting.
Of course, few of that crowd knew the first thing about fighting. But, just as hiding inside their homes theoretically helped nothing, they craved a sword to at the very least feel like they were doing something.
Most people in Flea Bottom trusted the work at the Blacksmith's Forge. Master Mott had proven himself to be a skilled labourer, and a loyal and just one at that. He never overcharged, and always tried to do the absolute best he could for those asking.
He also had an apprentice who lurked in the back of the shop, and never was seen to interact with customers. When questioned about the boy, Mott would laugh and say, "Every Blacksmith needs an extra pair of hands! He's just doing his job as well as he can do." It was never questioned, because the boy certainly did his job well - he made steel sing as he hit it.
Some who had been in Fleabottom their whole lives sometimes noted that, from behind at any rate, the boy slightly resembled an apprentice Mott had had 5 years previously. But all rumours of that were always quashed by the fact that Mott had sold that boy to the Watch - and once you swore yours vows to the Watch, you couldn't unswear them. Besides, it had been 5 years. Nobody would have recognised that boy. Those who had suspicions told themselves it was caused by simply remembering and yearning for a happier, safer time in the capital.
Only Mott and his apprentice knew the truth.
The boy had turned up at King's Landing almost three weeks after leaving Dragonstone. He had held onto Ser Davos' advice the whole time - "Don't fall out." - and he had done his best not to. But at times, the water terrified him out of his wits; and after 17 days of constantly rowing, the boy had wanted to give up. He was sure he was rowing in circles now - and his food and water supply had long run out.
He had almost accepted defeat that morning, the morning the rain came, and he sat there with tears streaming down his face, his tongue outstretched, desperate for the sweet taste of fresh water. His arms were burning, he was cold, he was tired, and he felt betrayed.
Right there and then, he had wished that the rain and the sea could join together and swallow him up whole, away from this painful place. He was returning to King's Landing - but for what? He had nowhere to go, no family to speak of, no place to call home.
And then suddenly, as clear as day, he had heard in his head her voice.
"I can be your family," she said, her tearful face matching his right now.
That only made the boy cry harder. How could he possibly have told her that she already was the closest thing to a family he had ever had - she was highborn, and he was a bastard. Knowing now that he was a bastard with blood as noble as hers stung like a slap across his face.
He had given her up for the Brotherhood, who had in turn given him to Melisandre.
He heard her voice ring out in his head again.
"STUPID BULL!"
The boy sat up, trying to calm his sob-stricken breaths. He imagined her seeing him right now and could almost feel the inevitable kick she would be giving him for being a spineless idiot. In spite of himself, he found himself smiling.
He had to get back to King's Landing, he had finally decided, not only for his own life but to then go and find her. She would be with her brother now, he was sure - and he was going to go back and let this girl know that she was his family, that he wanted that.
It was that which kept him warm on his final pull into King's Landing, through the day of rain and wind and raging storm.
As soon as he had moored at King's Landing, he headed straight for Flea Bottom. He didn't care what happened to the boat - he would be perfectly happy if he never had to set eyes on it again, frankly. He remembered Ser Davos' words to him: "Have a bowl of brown for me."
Maybe Master Mott would have some.
The memory of how, five years ago, Master Mott had sold him to the Watch had twisted in him like a knife - but he had nowhere else to go. Mott had always treated him well. Surely he would give him board, even for a night or so.
As he had tramped through the winding alleys in the rain, he heard those passing him shouting about the Red Wedding. He felt his face pulled into a confused expression. Perhaps the King had finally got married. He would have to ask Mott.
Finally, he had arrived at the Blacksmith's - and it was all shut up for the night. He had desperately pounded on the door, and eventually he heard the clicks and snaps of locks being undone as Mott opened it.
Mott's jaw dropped. "Gendry?" he had said incredulously. "Is that you?!"
—
Unbeknown to the thousands in chaos in King's Landing, a few miles North a young girl had slipped out of The Twins and into the trees surrounding it - and as she entered, she was met with the howl of a hundred wolves.