Disclaimer: I do not own A song of ice and fire. I also do not own Game of Thrones. I wish I did, but I'm not that lucky. I also do not own any of the characters created by GRRM. I'm just playing around in his sandbox and using them for a while.
Rhaegar had left the capital on a fine dornish stallion. Now his bones had been laid to rest.
Since his initiation into the kingsguard, Jaime had been put in charge of guarding the young prince Viserys. In the beginning, he had resented the appointment, but he currently found that he didn't mind being a glorified babysitter overmuch. Not when it allowed him to escape the atmosphere of mourning that lingered in the queen's presence. Missing the chance to compete in the tournament hadn't ended up being such a bad thing either. Not with the outcome being what it had been.
It very well could have been me enjoying the hospitality of the Black Cells.
Aerys had initially wanted to burn his son's remains. His preoccupation with fire had demanded no less, but his wife and good-daughter had surprisingly prevailed in that particular battle of wills. Jaime didn't think Rhaegar much cared either way, but he could see the value in following the traditions of the Seven in this instance. He was not religious himself, but many of the people were, and Rhaegar had been the people's prince. And the Targaryens dearly needed all the goodwill they could muster.
Rhaegar would have made a good king, he thought pensively. A better man than his father by all accounts.
Though Rhaegar's widow was pregnant, there was no telling if the child would be a son or daughter, and the realm needed stability after the surprising tragedy. The iron throne needed an heir. In the week following the royal party's return, Varys had managed to convince the king that a show was needed to present the Targaryen succession as secure. Viserys had been named the heir apparent and any son Elia Martell may produce would now be one step further from sitting on the throne. A suitable celebration was planned to take place shortly after Lord Royce's trial.
Were Elia Martell anyone else, I would suspect a convenient accident to befall the young prince if the child does, in fact, turn out to be male.
Viserys, who had up until that point been making a valiant effort to strangle Rhaenys' cat with his embrace, chose that moment to stare at Jaime with wide and guileless eyes.
"Will you teach me to joust, Ser Jaime? They say you are very good." Viserys said.
He had released the black cat to twist his little fingers in his black tunic.
"When you are old enough, my prince." Jaime said.
"I don't want to die like Rhaegar."
So that is what prompted the question, Jaime thought.
Jaime hesitated. He was unused to offering comfort, especially to children. Cersei had made it a point to never ask for such things, and Tyrion had been ridiculed into a similar aversion by his sister and father. Slowly, he knelt before the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. He stayed frozen in that way until the boy's sobs slowly subsided. When they had ceased altogether, Jaime rose to his feet.
"Would you like to go back to the Red Keep?"
Viserys nodded, his red rimmed eyes studying the ground beneath his feet. The two had been out in the tiltyard. The prince had been fascinated by the knights practicing before them, but thoughts of his brother had clearly driven away any interest. Viserys was not old enough to truly understand death, but that lack of understanding sometimes made the grieving all the harder. The image of blood soaked sheets and his father's pale face came to mind.
As he and the prince made their way into the keep, they were met by Ser Gerold Hightower.
"I am to take over protection of the prince, Ser Jaime. The king has requested you attend him in the throne room."
Jaime frowned.
As soon as he arrived in the throne room, however, the reason for his summons became readily apparent. Yohn Royce stood before the iron throne flanked on either side by Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy. Members of Aerys' court lined the sides of the room, and the queen stood in front of the throne and to the right beside Elia Martell. Both women were dressed in black and had solemn expressions.
Curiously, there seemed to be a decent sized pile of wood in the center of the room. To one side of the pile stood a man in dark robes holding a torch.
When Jaime had made his way to stand in his customary place before Aerys, the king made a sharp motion with his hand. Dayne and Selmy stepped aside, and Jaime got his first good look at Yohn Royce. What was left of him anyway. A week in the Black Cells and several more in a prison wagon had left Royce in a sorry state indeed. The once powerful man had lost enough weight that his cheekbones stood out through his skin and gave him a distinctly ghoulish look.
"You stand accused of murder and treason, Lord Royce."
Royce panned his gaze around the room, his expression becoming more and more grim as he counted not a friendly face among the onlookers.
"Where is my Lord Arryn, your grace? Where are the other men of the Vale?"
The men that had accompanied Lord Arryn to Harrenhal—and then on to King's Landing—were nowhere to be seen.
Convenient, Jaime thought to himself.
"Perhaps they decided you were not worth the effort."
Royce's jaw clenched so hard it was a wonder his teeth didn't shatter.
"I demand a trial by combat, your grace."
"Very well, Lord Royce." Aerys said.
There was a new levity underlying his words. Another motion of his hand had Dayne and Selmy dragging Royce towards the pile of wood.
"What is the meaning of this?" Royce said. His anger did not completely mask the fear in his voice.
"You are to face house Targaryen's champion, Lord Royce. It is what you wanted, after all." Aerys said.
The men of the kingsguard began tying Royce to a thick piece of wood that rose from the middle of the pile like the mast of a ship.
"And the champion of house Targaryen is fire." Aerys added. "Light the fire, Rossart."
The man in the dark robes, who Jaime now knew to be named Rossart, gently lowered the torch and held it against one of the logs until it caught. He then circled the condemned man until he was facing him nose-to-nose.
"Did you conspire with Lord Arryn to steal the iron throne? Did you plot against our king? Did you murder Prince Rhaegar to further these ambitions?"
Royce spat in the man's face. "Fuck you. And fuck the king."
Rossart smiled. Together the men and women in the throne room watched as the flames leapt from log to log until it was all burning. Until Royce's clothing had caught fire. Until his beard and hair were alight as well. Until the defiance and fury in his face had been replaced by agony. Then Rossart circled him a second time.
"Did you conspire with Lord Arryn to steal the iron throne? Did you plot against our king? Did you murder Prince Rhaegar to further these ambitions?" Rossart repeated.
"Yes!" Lord Royce said. The words were ripped ragged from his throat and ended in a tortured scream.
"Just kill me!"
There was no more thought towards anything but an escape from pain. The begging continued for several minutes and then there was merciful silence.
A man will confess to most anything to escape such hell.
Not that the king cared. When you were the one with the crown you could tell justice to fuck off all you wanted. Jaime began a careful study of his golden sword so that he no longer had to watch the flesh blister and blacken on the former lord of the Vale.
He smells like a finely roasted pig, Jaime thought as nausea threatened to overwhelm him. The fact that he kept his lunch at all was a miracle.
Is this what it means to be a member of the kingsguard?
It was almost amusing how quickly he was becoming disenchanted with the white cloak he had been so eager to wear. If Tywin had been the type for laughter, Jaime was sure he would have been sick with it. A mere handful of weeks as a member of Aerys' kingsguard and he was already wishing for home.
All I wanted was to be with Cersei, he thought with longing so fierce it threatened to overwhelm him.
He hadn't even been granted that much, in the end. Cersei was supposed to have been in court. The two were supposed to have been ducking into every dark corner of the keep just as they had once done in their childhood home. Instead, his father had abandoned his position as hand and taken his daughter with him back to Casterly Rock. Jaime had just been able to conjure alluring images of long blonde hair and burning green eyes when the doors to the throne room crashed open.
And there is our missing Lord Arryn. I'm afraid he's a bit too late.
Nevertheless, Jon Arryn cut a regal figure. One that was undeniably more regal than the king himself. Aerys' sat hunched forward on the throne—as he almost always did—in an effort to avoid cutting himself on one of the many blades and adding to the collection of scabs that crisscrossed his skin.
"What is the meaning of this? Why was I not informed that Lord Royce's trial was taking place?" Jon Arryn said.
His voice was smooth and even with an undercurrent of steel. The voice of a lord paramount. Aerys gave no reply, and the craven fools spectating in his court were silent.
"Where is Lord Royce, your grace?" Jon Arryn said, his voice even harder than before.
Aerys leaned back, slicing one thin forearm as he did so. "The traitor confessed, Lord Arryn. Lost his trial by combat. However, before he did, he told us all about why he was really at Harrenhal. About why you were really at Harrenhal." A disturbing look of pleasure flashed across the king's face as he added, "fire has a way of making honest men out of liars."
It was already far too late, but Jaime thought he saw the moment when it registered with Lord Arryn just how utterly screwed he was. Rather than cower and plead for his life, however, Jon Arryn simply straightened impossibly further.
"This was a mistake, your grace. One which you will come to regret."
The king merely laughed, and it was a sound that brought to mind things crawling about in the dark. Jaime felt himself shiver.
"It is you who will regret your treason, Lord Arryn." Aerys said before gesturing to Dayne and Barristan, "bring him here."
"Are you arresting me as well, your grace? Am I to face a farce of a trial as Lord Royce did?" Jon Arryn said. His voice never wavered, and Jaime could see the contempt in his blue eyes when the two knights of the kingsguard forced him before the throne.
"A trial?" Aerys' voice had gone soft, and the strange mirth still danced in his eyes. "You have already been found guilty." He spread one arm out in a sweeping gesture to indicate the remains of Lord Royce, "And the punishment for treason is death."
He gestured towards the robbed figure standing next to his grisly work. "Rossart, if you please."
Jaime averted his eyes as the pyromancer directed several men in the building of yet another pile of wood.
"Good-father, perhaps you should allow Lord Arryn to take the black. Show how merciful the crown can be." Elia said.
She alone had spoken up for the lord of the Vale, and that fact sent a jolt of shame through him. Aerys shot his good-daughter a dark look.
"You argue for the life of a traitor?" Aerys said.
Elia never wavered, "I seek to find opportunity to make him useful, your grace. He can spend the remainder of his life fighting wildlings."
"There is no use for traitors. Not beyond using their worthless heads to decorate my walls." Aerys said.
For a moment it looked as though she would argue her point, but the queen gripped her arm and she subsided. Jon Arryn's gaze had momentarily softened as he gazed upon the dornish woman, and Jaime could see the admiration there. And the regret.
He is imagining Elia and Rhaegar on the throne.
In fact, Arryn didn't look away from the princess until the order had been given to tie him to his pyre. The look he gave the king when they did was filled with a surprising amount of pity.
"I can only hope the realm survives the consequences of your actions, your grace." Arryn said.
"Light the fire, Rossart." Aerys said.
Then there was only screaming and the smell of cooking meat. This time, however, Jaime was unable to withstand the nausea and his lunch decorated the stone in front of him. It was with a distant sort of understanding that he noted that vomit also spattered his boots.
At least Arryn's last words had been spent well, Jaime could give him that much. There was no one in attendance who did not feel the dark truth of them. That the king had done something that he could not come back from.
These men were not a couple of peasants that no one would mourn the loss of. One was a Lord of the Vale and the other was a Lord Paramount.
Even the spider looked worried, as much as the fat bastard ever looked worried about anything. He hid his unease well though. Well enough that Jaime doubted the king had even noticed. The eunuch softly cleared his throat and stepped forward, attempting to draw the king's attention away from the flames.
"Now that your throne is once again secure, your grace, there is another matter that has need of your attention. You are in need of a new Hand. Tywin Lannister's departure has left a rather glaring hole in the small council."
"Yes," Aerys said.
The king ran bony fingers topped with long and jagged nails over his right knee in thought. Then he seemingly came to a decision, for his fingers stilled.
"Not another scheming lord trying to take what isn't his. Only someone with the dragon blood will do. Family is all that can be trusted." He smiled, and for a moment Jaime thought he saw remnants of the man his father had once called friend, "Cousin Steffon was a loyal man. Died for me. If I remember correctly, he had sons."
Varys nodded. "Steffon produced two sons that are now past the age of majority, your grace. Though perhaps it would be wiser to offer the position to Lord Stannis. Second sons are often eager to take a position of power when offered."
"It is settled then." Aerys said dismissively before turning to leer at the queen. All traces of the man he once was disappeared to be replaced by the one he was now. "Come, wife." Almost as an afterthought, he made a gesture to follow and added, "You as well, Lannister, Darry."
Jaime had heard the stories of what the king did to his queen after a burning, but he dearly hoped they were exaggerations as he followed the royals to the king's bedchamber. The queen was silent and blank of face, her expression absent. Not that Jaime had ever seen much of one on her face any other time.
Mother used to tell me the queen was a woman of joy.
The capital had always had a way of killing happiness.
They hadn't been standing outside the chamber long when the screams started. Rhaella Targaryen sounded terrified and was obviously in pain. Before he quite knew what he was doing, Jaime was reaching for the door.
"What do you think you are doing, Lannister?"
Jaime's fingers fell back to his side.
"Surely we must aid the queen." He said quietly.
Darry pierced him through with a look. It was one that Jaime had seen before, and it was one that he knew he would grow to despise in short order. It spoke of a moral superiority so severe it was a wonder his fellow knight of the kingsguard didn't drown in it.
"It is your duty to serve the king. You must keep his secrets and obey his command. So you will guard his door and refrain from judgement. Don't tell me you have forgotten your vows already." Darry said.
Cunt, Jaime thought savagely.
Fuck any vows they had made as knights. Protecting the innocent didn't matter if it was the king who was harming them. Just as it didn't seem to matter that they were also sworn to the queen.
I never should have gone to Harrenhal.
Notes:
* Aerys was bound to burn someone more important than a peasant at some point (even if it wasn't Rickard Stark).
* There was a timeskip between the prologue and this chapter (including travel time from Harrenhal to King's Landing as well as an additional week worth of mourning for Rhaegar's passing)
* Jaime became a member of the kingsguard early on at Harrenhal and was sent to King's Landing in short order. He was already on his way there when Rhaegar died.
* I've updated this chapter to include some editing for typos.