DAENERYS
"Cersei is what?"
The messenger – a boy of about fifteen or sixteen years old, with terrified eyes and a hairless face – gulped. "Alive, Your Grace."
Even hearing the news a second time made Daenerys's pulse pound in her ears and she could scarcely breathe. "Why was I told she was dead if she wasn't?"
"The original letter must've been wrong, my queen. Perhaps the handmaid got ahead of herself…"
Next to her, Jon was staring down at the ground with his arms crossed over his chest and a unreadable expression on his face. Daenerys turned away from the messenger and her husband and clenched her hands around the edges of the table. On the table in her solar she'd stretched out a map of Westeros, figures taken from a cyvasse set spread across the map to represent her various allies and foes as they'd planned their march south for King's Landing. She'd been planning on a peaceful transition of power, but now Daenerys knew there was no chance for that, and angry tears blurred her vision. Impulsively she shoved half the pieces off the table and they fell loudly to the floor, some of them shattering against the wood.
"Daenerys." Hot, angry tears began to roll down her cheeks as Jon approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her middle as he pulled her into him. Initially she tried to shove him off, but Jon's hold on her only tightened and he burrowed his face into her hair. Eventually Daenerys gave in and leaned into his embrace, allowing her husband to hold her as she cried. "It's all right," Jon soothed. "It's all right…"
No it's not. She wanted to shout, but she forced the words back down her throat and tried to take some deep breaths. She wiped the tears away from her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. "I was such a fool." Daenerys said to him. "Believing that it could really be this easy…that we could take back the Iron Throne without bloodshed…"
"You're not a fool." Jon insisted, and Daenerys turned around so she could hug him back, her face pressed up against his chest. The messenger was dismissed by a wave of Jon's hand and he left without another word, the door slamming shut behind him. "I'm so sorry, my love."
Finally, Daenerys had calmed down enough that she could breathe easy again, and she pulled away from Jon with one last sniffle. Her shock and anger had faded away into a resoluteness as she composed herself, turning her eyes back to the map on the table. "We cannot wait any longer, Jon. We need to go south."
Jon looked hesitant. "Daenerys, you're pregnant…"
"Yes," She interjected. "And I'm also a queen." She was Mhysa, the Mother of Dragons, a mother to her people as much as she was to the children in her womb. Who am I if I am not willing to risk my life for them? Cersei did not care about her people, but Daenerys did. What is a queen if not a protector? "Cersei is not fit to sit the Iron Throne, Jon. I know in this past month we've talked about the kind of Westeros we want to build, the kind of world we want our children to grow up in…but that world will never exist if we don't act now."
Her words seem to affect him, as she could see Jon's grey eyes soften. "You're right. As much as I wish I could lock you up and make sure you're safe for the next six months, I can't do that."
"I can protect myself. I know you only think this way because you love us, but you have to trust me."
Jon nodded. "I do trust you. I know you're very capable Daenerys."
"Good." She said. "Now, how many fighting men and women do we have left?"
"We started with 110,000 pledged to us, but considering our losses in the Battle for the Dawn, I'd say…70,000 khalasar, 5,000 Unsullied, 3,000 Northmen? Plus most of the Fiery Hand is still intact."
Daenerys nodded her head. "That puts us at around 80,000 men. But Cersei has the 20,000 members of the Golden Company, all of Euron Greyjoy's remaining men and ships, the majority of the houses from the Reach, and all of the Lannister armies. She probably has almost 80,000 in ground and naval forces. We need more – if we could get back up to our old numbers, I'd say our victory is secure."
"And where do you suggest we get another 30,000 soldiers?"
In response, Daenerys walked to the door and peeked her head out to address the Unsullied stationed there. "Brown Flea, summon my Hand, Lady Stark, and the Greyjoys please."
She was picking the cyvasse pieces off the floor when the door opened again a few moments later. "The Hand of the King and Queen, the Wardeness of the North, and the Queen and Prince of the Iron Islands, Your Graces."
Sansa and Yara stepped into the room first, Tyrion and Theon close behind, as Daenerys placed two dragons carved out of onyx back on the map. "She's alive?" Sansa asked. "Cersei?"
Jon nodded solemnly. "It would appear so."
Daenerys watched as Sansa took in a deep breath, meanwhile Tyrion squeezed his eyes shut. "I should've known it was too good to be true." The Lady of Winterfell was saying. "This was all probably some trap to lure us south, so she could kill us all…"
"An honest mistake." Jon insisted. "The original letter came from a serving girl at the Red Keep, who'd been one of Varys's informants while he was still alive. Apparently Cersei had a difficult labor and the girl got ahead of herself."
"And her child?" Tyrion asked. His voice was quiet, and Daenerys could tell that her Hand was trying his best to keep himself calm.
The queen shook her head. "Still no word. It may be dead."
"Or it may be alive." Theon interjected. "In which case Cersei now has a heir, and an increasing number of allies."
"Yes, that is what we summoned you here to discuss. We need more men if we want to march south and displace Cersei."
"You're going to go?" Sansa said. "But isn't that what she probably wants? What if this whole lie was a ruse, to lure us into a false sense of security?"
"Even if it was," Jon said. "King's Landing has a population of almost one million. We cannot let them languish under Cersei's rule. Her hold on the Seven Kingdoms is only getting stronger, and if we want to take them back, it's now or never."
"His Grace is right." Tyrion piped up. "I know my sister. She would rather see the city burn than fall into someone else's hands. Those people are not safe as long as she is queen, and we'll need more men if we want to save them. What do you suggest?"
Daenerys shifted through the cyvasse pieces: catapult, spearmen, crossbowmen, trebuchet. "We were already planning to send Gendry down to Storm's End with Ser Davos when the time was right." She placed a light horse atop the Stormlands on the map. "But after how the War of the Five Kings decimated their forces, they cannot have many fighting men left. I'd say 2,500 at most. It's not enough to make much of a difference, but still, I'd rather they be on our side than Cersei's."
"What about the Riverlands?" Sansa asked. "My uncle Edmure is still imprisoned at Riverrun by Lannister forces. Lord Jaime planned to free him. If we could, do you think he'd be able to rally his men to our cause?"
"Perhaps." Daenerys knew little of Lord Edmure Tully, as neither she nor Jon had ever met him, and even Sansa and Arya had not seen their uncle in years. Even if they could liberate him from Riverrun, it was said his bitterness towards Jaime Lannister ran deep, and he may not want to affiliate himself with these wars any further. "The Tullys sustained little casualties in the wars, comparatively. They probably still have 20,000 men. It would certainly help in getting us back to our old numbers – but we cannot bet on their loyalty."
"After everything that's happened, the Riverlands may not want to heed the call of a king and queen they do not know." Jon said. "You know I hold no animosity towards your mother, Sansa, but all Edmure Tully knows of me is that Lady Catelyn never liked me."
Still, Sansa raised her chin indignantly. "I am Edmure's niece, as is Arya, and we've sheltered his wife and son this past moonturn. Surely honor will compel him to join our side."
"But he has not seen you and Arya since you were girls, only spent one night with Roslin Frey, and has never met his son. The four of you are strangers to him, as the rest of us are."
Daenerys turned over another cyvasse piece in her hand, and placed a heavy horse atop the Riverlands on the map. "We must try to win him over. Still, his men alone would not be enough. The Riverlands and the Stormlands together would not be enough. That's why I've asked you four here." She moved her finger from the Riverlands across to the Vale of Arryn. "The Knights of the Vale fought with Jon at the Battle of the Bastards, and for us in the War of the Dawn. Their numbers are strong, even after the losses they took in both battles. Lady Stark, it was you who convinced Lord Baelish to bring the Knights of the Vale to Jon's cause, and you also kept Yohn Royce on our side during the Great War. Now both of them are dead. Have you heard from Lord Arryn recently?"
Sansa shook her head. "I wrote to Robin a month ago, before the first letter, asking him to let us keep the Knights of the Vale with us until Cersei's been defeated, but there has been no reply. The Knights answer to him now, and they will not stay here without a commander."
"Do you think you could convince Lord Arryn if you were to see him in person?"
"Go to the Vale, you mean?" Sansa mulled it over, and for a long moment she was silent. "I have not seen my cousin in a few years, and I do not know if he has matured any in that time. But…I think there's a chance I may be able to convince him, yes."
"It's the best chance we've got." Jon said. "Could you go Sansa?" His sister nodded yes.
"Your Graces?" Daenerys and Jon both turned to look at Tyrion. "Might I go with Lady Stark to the Eyrie as well?"
Daenerys had thought he might say that. "It's risky. The last time you were there, they tried to execute you. What if they try again?"
"Lord Tyrion and I will look out for each other." Sansa insisted. "No one will hurt him while I'm around." Tyrion smiled at that.
Reluctantly, Jon nodded. "Very well."
"Then, there's Dorne." Daenerys moved a figurine down the map until it was resting by Sunspear. "We forged an alliance with Ellaria Sand, but she's dead now, and we never got her armies because Euron Greyjoy intercepted us. But their men are still there, and not declared for either side. Yara, Theon, if you are willing I'd like to send you to Dorne – you were allies with the Sands once, why not again?"
"Aren't all the Sand Snakes dead?" Theon asked.
"Not the younger ones." Tyrion answered. "Prince Oberyn Martell had eight daughters, with five still living. The youngest two are girls still, but the elders have Martell blood in their veins and are old enough to keep power in Dorne. They're the ones you'll have to convince."
Theon looked at Yara, and his sister grabbed his hand to trace a message on his palm with her finger. "She says we could sail from Widow's Watch, drop Lady Stark and Lord Tyrion off in the Vale, then switch ships at Gulltown so we can continue on to Sunspear inconspicuously. Yara will write to the Sand Snakes, but what should we tell them?"
"Tell them we can give them their heart's desire: justice for their murdered mother and sisters."
"Fire and blood." Tyrion added. "If there's one thing we can count on, it's that the Dornish hate Cersei."
"Both the Vale and Dorne have significant numbers." Daenerys said. "If we can get even one of them to commit to our cause, we'll outnumber Cersei and have as many soldiers as we did before the Battle for the Dawn."
They dispersed, Sansa saying she needed to start packing for her journey and then get some sleep, Theon and Yara to alert their men that they needed a ship prepared for the morrow, but Tyrion lingered behind. "Your Graces," He said tentatively. "Has…has my brother been informed?"
In the chaos following the news about Cersei, Daenerys had not thought of that. "I do not think he has."
Tyrion looked dismayed. "Well, I suppose I shall – "
"Actually," Jon interjected. "Let me." When Daenerys and Tyrion both gave him quizzical looks, he explained: "I think it would be best for the news to come from one father to another."
Despite their turbulent history, Daenerys felt a pang of sadness for Jaime Lannister. As a pregnant woman, as a human being in general, she could not imagine what it must feel like to not know if your baby was alive or dead. At least if you knew it to be dead, you had an answer, however hard it may be. What would I do if there was a chance Rhaego was out there somewhere and I could not get to him? I'd be sick with worry. "It's almost one o'clock in the morning by now. You can shatter his world tomorrow, I think."
Tyrion left the room after wishing them both a somber 'goodnight', and Jon came over to kiss her lightly on the brow. "We should try to sleep now, my love. It's been a long day."
"Go on ahead, I'll be right behind you. I want to finish cleaning up this mess."
"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep until it's done."
Reluctantly, Jon assented and kissed her again, before leaving the solar for their bedchamber. Once she was alone, Daenerys finished picking up the scattered cyvasse pieces from the floor, placing them back on the table in the spots where they belonged. Elephants for the Golden Company. She thought. Dragons for House Targaryen…
She reached down and picked up the last piece, the most important piece in the entire game: the king. The figurine was beautifully carved from onyx, glimmering jet black, but when it smashed against the wooden floor it had fractured. Now, the king had no head on his shoulders.
Yes, Daenerys thought. I do not think I'll be able to sleep tonight at all.
GENDRY
The candle was burning low and his eyes were getting heavy, but he was determined to finish this chapter. Don't move your lips, He reminded himself silently of Ser Davos's words. That's how children do it.
Ever since he began to learn how to read, it was like a whole new world was opened to him, one like he had never seen before. How was it possible that all these symbols scratched on a page could link together to form such profound meanings, to tell so much about the world? There were so many things Gendry had never learned that were now at his fingertips. He was twenty-two years old and all his life he'd stared at the signs on the streets of Flea Bottom or at the books that highborns carried with them when they came into Tobho Mott's shop, and he'd resigned himself to the fact that he would never know the written language of the lords and ladies. But now all of a sudden it had opened to him, and it was more than he could've ever imagined. It was almost magical what words could do.
On the page there was a colored illustration of a woman with silver hair as she took the hand of a black-haired, black-bearded man. They were standing in front of a septon who seemed to be marrying them with great pomp and circumstance, surrounded by a crowd of regally dressed people including a young boy with a crown on his head. That had to be Jaehaerys, the Old King, when he was young, and the smiling little girl next to him had to be his future sister-wife Alysanne the Good. The Golden Wedding, the caption read.
Gendry was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and he looked up to see Arya slip quietly into his bedchamber. "Arya, you can't be in here."
"Of course I can." His betrothed insisted, closing the door behind her. She was wearing only her nightgown and had her hair pulled half-up, half-down.
Gendry took notice of her state of dress and though he wanted to welcome her into the bed, he knew logically that he shouldn't. "We're not married. If anyone sees you – "
Arya cut him off with a laugh. "Do you honestly think I care about that, Gendry? Let people say what they want."
"But your honor – "
"Fuck my honor. And we've already agreed that we're going to get married anyway. So what if I want to start the honeymoon a little early? Now scoot over."
Gendry opened his mouth to object, then closed it. He could not refuse Arya. "Come here." He said reluctantly, moving over in the bed, and Arya grinned as she climbed in to join him.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as Arya burrowed into him, her arms weaving around his waist and her head on his chest. "What are you reading about?"
"Davos gave me some books that mention the Baratheons. I'm on Lord Rogar now, and his wedding to Dowager Queen Alyssa Velaryon. Did you know that Lord Brandon Stark was there with his sons Walton and Alaric? And there were over fifty courses served at the wedding feast? And Lord Rogar wore an antlered halfhelm, I bet the craftsmanship on it was impeccable…"
Arya emitted a quiet noise of disgust. "I always hated Rogar when Septa Mordane talked about him in history lessons." She gave Gendry a look. "Sorry, I know he's your ancestor."
"I don't care. What did he do?"
"I won't spoil it for you, just keep reading." Arya examined the image in the book. "I always liked Queen Alyssa though. You know she stole Dark Sister, Visenya Targaryen's Valyrian steel sword? And after her son Viserys was murdered, she wanted to get revenge on his killers, so Jaehaerys gave her their heads and severed hands as gifts. Sansa was horrified when we first heard that story, but I liked that Alyssa was vengeful, even though she was also a wife, mother and queen. Women still have the same emotions as men do, you know."
Gendry smirked. "She sounds like the kind of person you'd admire."
"Oh, there's so many more women I can't wait for you to learn about. Queen Nymeria, who led the Rhoynar to Westeros. Alysanne Blackwood, who was wife to Cregan Stark and fought during the Dance of Dragons. Jonquil Darke, the Scarlet Shadow, sworn shield to Good Queen Alysanne…Sansa always liked the princesses, the maidens, the damsels in distress. I liked the women who saved themselves."
Realizing he was probably not going to get any more reading down tonight, Gendry placed the book on the nightstand and rolled over to face Arya. "Couldn't sleep?"
She shook her head. "No, but I always sleep better when you're here to warm the bed."
"Is that all I am to you? A bedwarmer?"
"Hmm, the sex is good too I suppose." They both chuckled, but then Arya's face grew serious. "I've been thinking about the messenger from King's Landing. I think we're going to have to go to war again."
"You don't know that – " Gendry started to say, but Arya cut him off.
"I do. I can feel it, somewhere deep within me already knows. It was bad news."
Gendry thought that somewhere within him he'd come to the same realization, even if he did not want to consider it. Something bad had to have happened. Maybe Cersei's child was still alive and Qyburn intended to place the infant upon the Iron Throne. Maybe he'd taken it for himself. Maybe Cersei wasn't even dead after all. None of those options are good for us. When he'd first heard that Cersei was gone, he'd been happy. She was the woman who had killed his father, she'd tried to kill him, and she'd stood idly by as Arya's father's head was chopped off. That made Cersei Lannister his enemy. He'd been glad to know that she wouldn't be a problem anymore, but now that didn't seem to be the case.
"I don't want to go to war again." He whispered.
Arya sighed and burrowed further into him. "Me either. I thought everything was finally going to be all right. That maybe we could finally be happy, and put the past behind us…I don't want to fight anymore, Gendry. I'm so tired of fighting."
The way her voice faltered over the last words broke his heart, and Gendry dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "We'll still be happy. No matter what the news is, we'll overcome it together, I promise."
"I hope you're right."
They laid there in silence for a while, Arya's face burrowed into Gendry's chest and her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, his hands running casually through her hair. Her smaller body was warm in his embrace. "Let's get married." He blurted out impulsively.
Arya glanced up at him, her eyebrows knitting together. "We're already getting married, stupid."
"I know that," Gendry said. "I just meant…let's get married now. Here at Winterfell, before we have to go south."
Arya didn't say anything at first and she released her hold on him, sitting up in bed and pulling her knees to her chest. "Gendry, you know I love you. I love you so much and I want to be your wife…but not now. Not like this."
"Why not now?" It might be the only chance we get. But Gendry did not speak that thought aloud. He didn't want to even consider that possibility.
Arya bit her lip. "This sounds stupid, I know. But marrying you…I want it to be special. I want it to be the right moment. So as much as I want to marry you…now's not the moment. When it's right, I'll feel it, and I don't feel it right now."
"It doesn't sound stupid." Gendry told her. "And you know I'll always be here, whenever you're ready." He'd already waited years to be with her, and he could wait a few more months. He held his arms out to her again. "Now, get back over here."
With a slight smile, Arya laid back down and Gendry wrapped his arms around her again. "I love you." She said.
"I love you too. Goodnight, m'lady."
He saw her roll her eyes, but she was smiling too. "Don't call me m'lady, idiot. Now blow that candle out so we can sleep."
BRIENNE
Sincerely, your loving daughter –
No.
Sincerely, your dutiful –
Even more of a no.
With a sigh, Brienne dipped her quill back in the ink well and stared at the blank space at the bottom of the parchment, silently willing the right words to come. She had not written to her father since before the Battle for the Dawn, and the words she'd written could not even begin to convey the things she'd experienced in these past few months. I came to Winterfell as the sworn shield to Ned Stark's daughter, I've seen dragons and foreign armies and a man come back from the dead, I fought an army of the undead and had a boy I cared about die in my arms. And then there's also the matter of the kiss I received from the one-handed knight-turned-lord I may have feelings for, who may have feelings for me too…
How could she even begin to explain all these things to her father? Brienne suddenly wondered what he would think about Jaime Lannister. Lord Selwyn Tarth had always been a noble and honorable man who followed through on his word, and the rumors spread about Jaime did not exactly make him look trustworthy. Brienne knew she'd had a preconceived notion about the man they called the "Kingslayer" before she met him, but she could only hope that her father would appreciate what Jaime had done for her. I've been through so much since I last saw him. She thought. Will he even recognize the person I've become after these six years we've spent apart?
The stub of the tallow candle she'd lighted was now almost completely melted, but outside the window the sun was beginning to rise in the distance, indicating it was now early morning. Brienne had slept for barely a few hours the night before, so she'd risen before the sun hoping letter writing would take her mind off things. Ever since Sam and Gilly's wedding reception had been interrupted the night before, the castle had been eerily quiet, and Brienne could only wonder what news the messenger had delivered.
There was a knock at her door and Brienne looked up, wondering if Lady Sansa needed something. "Come in."
It was not Sansa Stark who appeared in the open doorway, but Jaime. "Am I disturbing you wench?"
"Not at all, I've been up for hours." She noticed that Jaime was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and his voice was thick, indicating he had not slept well last night either. "Sit down. Should I call up a servant for some tea?"
"That won't be necessary, wench." The Lord of Casterly Rock pulled out a chair from the corner of Brienne's chamber and came to rest near her desk, close enough that if Brienne reached her arm out, she could touch him. "I couldn't sleep, but I could see the glow of the candle in your window from across the courtyard."
You were looking at my window? Brienne thought, but she did not speak it aloud. "I couldn't sleep either, not well anyway. So I decided to work on some letters, since I haven't written my father since before the battle."
"Lord Selwyn of Tarth, the Evenstar. I've heard a lot about him – everyone says he is a good man."
"He's the greatest." Brienne said, then she hesitated. "Perhaps you may meet him some day."
She saw a ghost of a smile cross Jaime's lips. "I'd like that. You know I saw Tarth, once."
"You did?"
"Just from my ship, when I was sailing to Dorne with Bronn. It was jutting out of the sea like a speck of emerald, covered entirely in green trees. It is said to be beautiful."
"It is." In truth though, Brienne had never thought of Tarth as beautiful growing up: it had just been her home. She'd learned to swim in the lakes and waterfalls, scaled the blooming mountains, rode her horse through the towns with their moss-covered cottages, conversed with the smallfolk as she passed through. When she was younger she'd dreamed of getting away, but now she missed it. The green hills and rolling valleys, the smell of salty seas and fresh rain…
She snapped out of her reverie and turned to look at Jaime. "I'm sure you'll be happy to return to Casterly Rock."
For a long moment, Jaime was silent. "I do have good childhood memories there, yes. Being trained with the master-at-arms, sitting with my mother in her solar while she worked on her sewing…You know my grandfather used to keep lions at the Rock? But my father had them all put in cages down in the bowels of the castle. We used to go down there and dare each other to touch them, Cersei and – " Abruptly Jaime cut himself off and he glanced away, unable to look at Brienne anymore.
She didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry." After all, Cersei had been his sister once.
"It's all right." Jaime said. He still couldn't look at her. "It still hurts to think about her, even after everything she's done. Because there was a time when I truly loved her, when she wasn't a monster, and she…" He shook his head. "Suppose I'll have to get used to it. When I go back to Casterly Rock, I'll have to confront her memory at every turn. And my mother's. And my father's…"
"You don't have to go back there."
"Of course I do. I'm not a Kingsguard now, I'm Lord Lannister…" Jaime laughed, but there was no humor behind it. "If only Father could see me now. He got his wish."
Brienne paused. "Do you want to be Lord of Casterly Rock?"
"I don't know what I want, wench. Casterly Rock was my home once. In time maybe it can become my home again."
Brienne stared at him for a long moment, and she could feel her face flushing pink. The words spilled out of her before she could call them back. "I feel at home when I'm with you."
Jaime looked up at her, his green eyes meeting her blue ones, and neither of them said anything. Brienne felt like she couldn't breathe. "I do too, wench." He whispered finally, so low Brienne could barely hear. "I do too…"
He shifted in his seat, not taking his eyes off her, and Brienne suddenly hungered to kiss him again. The first time she hadn't been expecting it, hadn't been able to savor the moment. She missed the feeling of his lips, ached for the warmth of his body pressed against hers, and with a sudden rush of boldness she moved to close the distance between them.
The door burst open and both of them immediately jumped back, Brienne turning away from Jaime to see who was at the door. This time it was Sansa, frozen in the doorway with wide blue eyes. "I'm sorry, I thought you were alone. The door was ajar…"
Brienne hoped she didn't look as embarrassed as she felt. "It's quite all right, my lady. Lord Lannister and I were just…talking about our plans for after the march south."
At her words, Sansa's eyes shifted from Brienne to Jaime, and Brienne saw a sadness in them. "Actually, Lord Lannister," Sansa said. "My brother wants to speak with you. Immediately. I'm afraid it's important."
JAIME
The king was still speaking to him, but Jaime could not make out a single word he was saying at this point. Cersei's alive. The news made him feel like he couldn't breathe. He was suddenly reminded of after the Battle of the Goldroad, where he'd almost drowned – the darkness enveloping him, the burning in his lungs, how he'd struggled trying to reach the surface only to find himself sinking further down below. That was exactly what this felt like now. It was like drowning on dry land.
They were seated in the king and queen's solar at opposite sides of a table, and outside the sun had now risen high in the sky as late morning came. "I know this must be difficult," Jon Snow was saying to him. "As someone about to be a father, I understand what this must be like for you…"
Jaime looked up to meet his eyes. "Your Grace, with all due respect you cannot even begin to understand how I feel." Jon Snow's wife was here by his side, and the love they shared was so sweet it was almost sickening. All Jaime had was a sister who'd returned his blind loyalty by threatening to kill him, and a child that might be dead for all he knew.
Jon Snow nodded, his grey eyes filled with remorse. "You're right." He conceded. "You're right, our positions are very different. I just meant that I can sympathize."
Jaime felt bad for snapping at him, and the lump rising in his throat now made it difficult to speak. "And I thank you for your kind words."
The king arose from his chair and stood there for an awkward pause, like he was unsure of what he should do. What is the common courtesy for telling someone that their evil sister is alive and she may have had their child? Jaime wondered. He couldn't imagine it was a common occurrence. In other circumstances, maybe he would've laughed at the absurdity of what he was facing.
"I could give you a moment alone, my lord, or should I send your brother in? I know he'd like to speak with you."
As much as Jaime wanted to be alone, he knew that if he were there would be nothing to keep him from dissolving into despair. "I'll speak with Tyrion." Maybe his clever little brother would know what to do.
The king turned to go, but then on his way to the door he paused and turned to face Jaime again. "I really am sorry, my lord. I know we've had our differences but…" He trailed off uncomfortably. What more was there to say, really? No words could make this better.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
Jon Snow quietly exited the room, and Tyrion slipped in a second later. The door shut behind him. Tyrion did not greet him jovially as usual but padded silently across the room, grabbing two cups from the drink cart. "Is ten a.m. too early to start drinking?"
Jaime tried to smile, but it came across as sad and pathetic. "In these circumstances, I don't think so."
"Good." Tyrion poured them two cups of whatever alcohol it was that was on the drink cart. It wasn't wine, instead it was something brown, probably a northern ale or mead. He then walked over to Jaime and placed one of the cups in front of him, and instead of sitting across the table like Jon Snow had he pulled out the chair next to his brother. "You know," Tyrion said. "Despite all our differences, there was one thing Cersei and I have always had in common: drinking."
Jaime laughed despite himself. "Well, cheers to drinking."
"Cheers."
They clinked their cups together and each took a long sip. The honey flavor that hit Jaime's palette confirmed it was in fact mead, but the honey was followed up by a dry, tangy taste that was not to his liking. Still, he forced himself to raise the cup to his mouth again.
Tyrion drained half of his own and then placed it down on the table. "I was relieved, you know? When I heard that Cersei was dead. Because even after all she's done to me, to both of us, I secretly…well, a part of me didn't want to have to play a hand in her death. As evil as she is, I didn't want to kill my own sister."
For a long moment Jaime only stared into the depths of his cup, saying nothing. "I used to hate you for what you did." He said to Tyrion, not looking up. "To Father. Even after everything that happened with the trial, I still felt angry. How could he take our own father away from us? I wondered. But now, I think I know how you felt when you did it. Because right now I don't care that Cersei is my sister, all I can think is how satisfying it would feel to drive my sword through her chest."
"It's not that simple. As much as I hated Father in that instance…killing him didn't give me any pleasure, and it didn't make what had happened go away. It only made me feel like a horrible person afterwards."
Despite Tyrion's words, they did not alleviate Jaime's anger. His initial grief had now transformed into a steely determination. Cersei had tried to kill Tyrion, tried to kill Jaime. She'd manipulated and lied and murdered her way to power, and there was no one on this earth she loved more than herself. He could not and would not let her win.
Jaime looked over at his brother. "Jon Snow says there's still no word about what happened to Cersei's – " He cut himself off. "To my child."
Tyrion frowned and drained the rest of his cup. "It might be dead, Jaime."
"Yes, and it may also be alive out there." He knew there was a slim chance, but if there was even a speck of hope that that baby was still alive, Jaime was not going to give up yet. I failed Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen as a father. I will not fail this one too. "You saw what Joffrey was, Tyrion. Cersei made him that way by nurturing him with her poison. If my child is still alive, I'm not going to let Cersei corrupt him or her, and nothing you say is going to change my mind. When we go south to King's Landing, I am going to get my child back if it's the last thing I do. Either help me or stand aside, because I will not let anything get in my way this time."
"I'm with you." His brother answered without hesitation. "You know I loved Myrcella and Tommen. I just don't want you to get your hopes up. If the child was stillborn, this will have all been in vain."
"I know that, but I have to try."
"Very well." Tyrion stood up and pushed his chair back in. "I'm leaving for the Eyrie in a few hours. The king and queen asked Sansa to recruit Robin Arryn to our cause. We need him if we're going to keep the Knights of the Vale."
"They asked you to go with her?"
"I volunteered."
"Hmm." Jaime was tempted to ask Tyrion why exactly he was so determined to go back to the place where he'd almost been murdered to help his ex-wife with her bratty cousin, but he had a feeling he already knew. He thought about making a joke about when Tyrion had acquired such a fondness for redheads, but he did not have the spirits to do so. "Well, good luck with that. Don't get pushed out a moon door."
"I'll try not to."
Jaime got up from his chair as well and he knelt down to pull Tyrion in for a quick hug. "May we meet again."
He could practically feel Tyrion's smirk. "We will. Brother, don't you know by now that I'm very hard to kill?"
