First light had already reached the White Sword Tower when Jaime had found himself awake. He had spent most of his night writing on the pages of the White Book, a Dornish Red accompanying along the way. It had been a long arduous, the process writing the names of his new brothers. He had been spared at least of drawing their coat of arms. Only two of them had a coat of arms, the two beast of men. Ser Lorent Tarth and Ser Robert Strong.
Ser Lorent as it seemed, was apart of some sort of a second branch of House Tarth. The wench hadn't spoken of a brother, she was the sole heir of Lord Tarth. The knight seemed to be taken with chivalry. A knight of summer, Jaime thought, I would have found a better Kingsguard in his cousin.
Ser Robert Strong was even larger than Ser Lorent and his armor alone probably outweighed Jaime. Jaime had not seen the brute of a man until the last day as he was 'found' by Qyburn. The Master of Whisperers or Security, whatever the bloody hell it was, had told him that Ser Robert had taken a vow of silence until all of King Tommen's enemies are dead and evil has been driven from the realm. That didn't have Jaime fooled, he had a strong suspicion of who Ser Robert was, but he had not spoken of it to the king. Why tell him? The king already knew.
He had given both of them watch over the king and his queen. The queen seemed to be a sweet thing, but Jaime knew better. She was the Queen of Thorns granddaughter, alright. Whispering in the king's ear of sweet nothings. Jaime assumed it was for the better, the boy needed something to take his mind of that monstrous chair. Although he seemed fond of it…
The doors to the common room were opened by his new two brothers, Ser Roger and Ser Stephen. Good, he thought, they came here at first light, shows a sense of duty. They shared greetings as the new kingsguards seated themselves in the table.
Ser Roger was an old short man who looked quite old for his of forty, but his worries over him taking this position had been lowered significantly during his showings at the courtyard. His qualms over his character had been lowered before the king. Mark seemed very methodical on every thing he did, but he knew nothing of the man. He didn't know where he came from, but if he had to guess Westerlands just from his slight accent which was barely noticeable, but Jaime noticed.
Ser Stephen reminded him of himself… no, he was wrong on that. The young Jaime had chased glory and honor, but this boy seemed to be chasing the path of a righteous and just man. There was a man of steel behind that timid boy and he was going to bring it out. Just like Ser Arthur was trying to do for him.
This Kingsguard almost cleaned the white cloak of the White Brothers… but there was still a large stain on it and it was the Lord Commander himself. He let out a bitter chuckle as the old cunt raised an eyebrow while the bastard stared at him, "Ser?"
"Tell me, Ser Stephen, where are you from?" Jaime asked the boy.
"Duskendale, my lord." Ser Stephen answered.
"None of that, Ser Jaime or Lord Commander to you." Jaime corrected him. "You must have been a son of a noble lord and if I might ask who was it that sired you?"
"You might, my lor-Lord Commander," the boy said. "My sire was Ser Jaremy Rykker."
Jaime knew Ser Jaremy, he was a knight of House Rykker and had remained loyal to the Mad King until he had surrendered to his father. Lord Tywin gave him the option of Ser Jaremy keeping his head and to freeze it at the Wall. Surprisingly soft of his father as Ser Jaremy's brother, Lord Rykker, had japed about his father shitting gold which his lord father did not in the end.
"Your father was a Targaryen loyalist." Jaime stated and Stephen's blue eyes widened while Ser Roger just appraised the situation.
"I'm forever loyal to-" Ser Stephen tried to rely before Jaime cut him off.
"If Viserys Targaryen came here with an army behind his back alongside your father, would you kill your king?" Jaime asked Ser Stephen.
"But that won't happen, my father is… was a man of the Night's Watc-"
"It did to me." Jaime responded.
Ser Stephen held his back straight and began, "My duty is to protect those who cannot defend them-"
"Your only duty is to protect your king." Jaime reprimanded him. "Don't confuse your Kingsguard's vows with your knight's vows." As I once did.
"Yes, Lord Commander," Ser Stephen relented and raised himself from the chair. "If I may be excused?"
"You may. Go and relieve your brothers of their watch." Jaime showed the way out with his stump, Ser Stephen bowing in recognition. He turned to Roger and assessed the old man, "Ser Rpger-"
"I'm not a ser, Ser Jaime." Roger cut him off. Not a Ser? There had been a few Kingsguard who were not raised to Kingsguard and they had been just as great and terrible as the knights.
"Then Mark, if I may know where you are from?" Jaime asked the old man.
"You may not." the old cunt replied and it made Jaime's teeth grind.
"You see, I wasn't really asking." Jaime said almost smiling his arrogant smile. "That was a command. I was ordering you."
"With all due respect, Ser, I don't have to tell you who I am or where I come from. Me and the king reached a mutual agreement-"
"I don't give a rat's shit about your agreeme-"
"You will if the king still wants me as a Kingsguard." Roger replied softly yet with an intense look in his eyes. "I know what you're trying to do. There's no need for it really. I know my role and I know to shut my mouth up. I will keep to my job and do everything a glorified bodyguard does." the old cunt rose and bowed to him, "I'll take my leave and share watch with Ser Stephen. Good day to you, Lord Commander."
Roger then left and shut the door, leaving a fuming Jaime behind. He reached out for the goblet of wine with his right hand… and with his stump only spilled the wine on the table almost staining the White Book. What difference does it make? I've already stained it with my name.
*****
Jaime was following the king's litter as they made their way in the Street of the Sisters. The Street of the Sister connected Visenya's Hill and Rhaenys' Hill. You either took way to the Great Sept of Baelor or the Dragonpit. The king planned to head to the Great Sept of Baelor.
He could hear the king and the queen talking in the litter. They had become enamored with each other or maybe it was just a play. Jaime hoped for the former. The greatest of kings always had the greatest of wives. Aegon I, Visenya, and Rhaenys. Jaehaerys I and Alysanne. Daeron II and Mariah Martell. Aegon V and Betha Blackwood. Even his late father, Tywin Lannister, had his own sort of queen, Joanna Lannister.
Sparrows started to appear more and more. Camping through the streets, in the gardens and finally in the plaza. There were hundreds of them, dare he say thousands. Mark had done scouting on Visenya's Hill before they had left the Red Keep, warning the king of the amount of them and the high chances of a riot all said in a bland voice.
The king had insisted on coming here proclaiming that he had to pay his homage to the Seven. He would sooner believe that Tyrion had stopped drinking than Tommen being a godly man. There was an obvious ulterior motive that the king and the queen knew.
"Make way for the king and the queen!" Ser Lorent yelled in a booming voice in the front of the litter and Jaime was glad he had chosen Ser Lorent and Ser Robert to be in the front, they made quite an intimidating sight. "Clear the way for Their Graces!"
They finally reached the plaza which was packed with hundreds of sparrows. The queen left the litter, she was a pretty little thing. Thick, softly curling brown hair, large brown eyes and a slender figure with small breasts. She was beautiful and smart, all that a queen should be.
Soon followed her husband, King Tommen. His long golden hair braided and straightened from his golden curls. His son had looked so much alike him before, almost looking at a young mirror of himself, but now his look varied significantly from a younger Jaime's.
He looked back at his friend, Ser Addam Marbarand who was calling forth for some more gold cloaks. His friend disliked King's Landing quite heavily, yearning for battle just like Jaime. No… Jaime's place was with his king. With his son.
The sparrows made way for the king and the queen while giving dull, sullen and hostile loose. The wagons still following behind. Sometimes almost making Jaime reach for his valyrian steel sword with his stump. His still had no name for the sword. Many came to mind Kingslayer, Oathbreaker… One might reckon he was naming his great deeds.
His green eyes met the great marble statue of Baelor the Blessed that had smiled serenely over the plaza for a hundred years was waist-deep in a heap of bones and skulls. Some of the skulls had scraps of flesh still clinging to them. A crow sat atop one such, enjoying a dry, leathery feast. Flies were everywhere. The king was staring at it while the queen looking away.
"Who's skulls are these?" the king asked as he moved close to the skulls.
A one-legged man stepped forward, leaning on a wooden crutch. "Your Grace, these are the bones of holy men and women, murdered for their faith. Septons, septas, brothers brown and dun and green, sisters white and blue and grey. Some were hanged, some disemboweled. Septs have been despoiled, maidens and mothers raped by godless men and demon worshipers. Even silent sisters have been molested. The Mother Above cries out in her anguish. We have brought their bones here from all over the realm, to bear witness to the agony of the Holy Faith."
A thousand eyes laid on the young king and he turned to face them unwavering. "These holy men and women are dead, but you are not. I made a vow to my people to keep them safe from harm. I intend to honor that vow."
Half of them cheered, but they were some that were silent. "The Warrior will defend us,," growled a hulking lout with a seven-pointed star painted on his brow. "not a boy king."
Tommen stared at the man with an icy glare that almost made the man back down, "Will the Warrior save you when the cold winds come? When the snows fall a hundred feet deep? When women will smother their babies rather than see them starve, and weep and feel the tears freeze on their cheeks? When winter comes, the only thing that will stand in front of it is me. Your king."
The plaza had turned silent as the grave and even Jaime could hear his own breath. The king was overlooking the crowd beside the mountain of carrion. Queen Margaery soon was beside her husband, holding his arm and soothing it, "The King and I will protect you from the winter to come. We have brought wagons of food, clothing and firewood to keep you warm in your homes."
The wagons were opened then showing a large amount of food, clothing and firewood. All funded by the Tyrells most like. They were soon handed by the king and the queen for hours, every sparrow thanking profusely. "I suggest you share these goods with the people of King's Landing holy men. You are sparrows, not crows."
And so they did. Flying out of the plaza, gardens and the street below taking handful of supplies and sharing them. Jaime was surprised to say the least, he didn't think they would share them. But that wasn't the most surprising event for the king and queen didn't spend more than seven minutes in the Great Sept of Baelor.
*****
Vigil was tiring to say the least. The last time he had taken vigil was standing guard to his father's corpse. Now, he was standing guard to his king and queen. Moans came from the chamber and he paid no mind to it. He was used to it really Robert and…
"Doesn't it bother you that your sister's in there getting fucked by the king you swore to protect?" Jaime asked Loras who was sharing the vigil. The knight of flowers made for dull company.
Loras looked at him perplexed and swallowed before answering, "They have their duty."
Jaime almost smiled his arrogant smile, "It seems more than duty to me. Don't you think?"
Loras had turned red whether it be from anger or embarrassment, he didn't know, "What about you, Lord Commander?"
"Me?" Jaime asked. Was Loras indicating that Tommen was his son?
"With Robert and your sister." Loras replied after some time.
"Well, Robert spent most of his lustful activities with whores. He liked to do it when I was on duty he made me listen as he insulted my sister, but it still was better." Jaime responded.
"Then when he did with your sister?" Loras asked and Jaime almost moved his right hand… stump to slap him, but he let it go. She's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know. That still hurt despite the time almost like his stump.
Cersei had come in the dead of the night when Tommen had decided to betroth her with the Tyrell cripple. She had dressed like a tavern wench in a heavy roughspun cloak, badly dyed in mottled browns that frayed at the hem.
"Cersei." He spoke slowly, like a man waking from a dream, still wondering where he was. "What hour is it?"
"The hour of the wolf." His sister had lowered her hood, and made a face. "The drowned wolf, perhaps." She had smiled for him, so sweetly. "Do you remember the first time I came to you like this? It was some dismal inn off Weasel Alley, and I put on servant's garb to get past Father's guards."
"I remember. It was Eel Alley." She wanted something of me, that was clear as day. "Why are you here, at this hour? What would you have of me?" For a moment he had dared to hope that all she had wanted was the comfort of his arms.
"Speak softly." Her voice had sounded strange… breathless, almost frightened. "Jaime, Tyrion and the Tyrell girl have poisoned the mind of my son. Our son." Cersei had put two and two together and made five.
"Tommen is no son of mine, no more than Joffrey was." His voice had been hard. "You made them Robert's too."
His sister had flinched. "You swore that you would always love me. It is not loving to make me beg."
Jaime had smelled the fear on her. He had wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, to bury his face in her golden curls and promise her that no one would ever hurt her… She's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know. "No," he said. "I cannot. Will not."
"I need you. I need my other half." He could hear the rain pattering against the windows high above. "You are me, I am you. I need you with me. In me. Please, Jaime. Please."
"And poisoned?" Jaime had recalled in disbelief of the stupidity or maybe she had been manipulating him. "Tyrion seemed just as surprised as us." But more to the declaration than the allegation.
"How could have he known of us?" Cersei had asked, but the question seemed to align more to 'How could have he known of me and Lancel and Osmund Kettleback?'
"Just like every other man in Westeros. Stannis sent a letter to every lord in Westeros. I wonder, did King's Landing get one?" Jaime had japed and that had earned him a slap from his sweet sister. "Although, I suppose they didn't get a letter for you fucking our cousin and a Kingsguard ."
Another slap had followed. Jaime had raised his stump and Cersei had recoiled in instinct, but he only had soothed her cheek with his stump. "Don't worry, sweet Cersei. I'll persuade Tommen to send Moonboy to Highgarden."
Cersei had moved away from him and had made way to leave, but she had turned to look at him with her emerald eyes, "There is no need for replacing you. A cripple to a cripple seems like a fair trade."
That had stung and it still stung remembering. Jaime turned to look at Loras, "No, it wasn't that either. It was the king I killed that made me wretch. The Mad King had earned his name. Whenever Aerys gave a man to the flames, Queen Rhaella would have a visitor in the night. The day he burned his mace-and-dagger Hand, me and Jon Darry had stood at guard outside her bedchamber whilst the king took his pleasure. We had heard Rhaella cry through the oaken door and in some queer way, that had been worse than Lord Chelsted's screaming. "We are sworn to protect her as well," I had finally been driven to say. "We are," Darry had allowed, "but not from him." his white brother seemed horrified, but also seemed to take Jaime in a new light, "If our good King Tommen forces himself on her, you know what to do."
Before Loras could respond Qyburn came, "News for the king."
"What news?" Jaime asked.
"Ill news, if you'd please inform his grace." Qyburn replied. Jaime moved closer to the door and knocked, the moans stopping once he did so. The king came out of the alongside his queen. His golden locks returning and when he looked at Tommen it was him. The Young Lion, not the Kingslayer.
But that was long ago, and the boy was dead.
"What. Do. You. Want." Tommen questioned in a way that almost made Jaime double in back in laughter if it weren't for the repercussions.
Qyburn moved forward, "The ironborn under their new king, King Euron Greyjoy have taken the Shield Islands with their fleet of a thousand ships."
Euron Greyjoy? He was Balon's brother, was he not. "Oh," Tommen responded. "Uuh, call for a council on the throne room. I'll be there shortly."
Tommen went back in the bedchamber while Qyburn left to inform the other councillors. Jaime heard words being spoken and they were becoming louder and louder until the dam broke. "A fucking reaction! I'm so sorry for handling this situation in a fucking civilised manner when I just fucking lost a piece of my fucking kingdom! You want angry then here's angry! Fucking happy!" Things calmed down after that and it was quite a while before the king and queen left for the throne room. The queen's brown hair was tousled and uncombed, and the torchlight made her cheeks look flushed, as if she had just come from Tommen's embrace.
The monstrosity awaited the king as the other councillors made way to greet him, all of the kingsguard standing behind him like a white shadow in the middle of the night. Tommen took steps towards the Iron Throne and seated himself above all. His queen, the seven Kingsguard and small council below him. Qyburn had started to inform them of the event in great detail.
"A thousand ships! Your Grace, this must be answered fiercely!" Her last word rang off the rafters and echoed through the cavernous throne room.
"Seems your prediction came true, nephew." Tyrion pointed out much to the eerily of the small council and himself.
"A thousand ships… The Redwyne fleet is well away from the Reach." Garth the Gross said.
"The ironmen have not dared raid the Reach since Dagon Greyjoy sat the Seastone Chair," his uncle said. "Why would they do so now? What has emboldened them?"
"Their new king." Qyburn stood with his hands hidden up his sleeves. "Lord Balon's brother. The Crow's Eye, he is called."
"This Crow's Eye cannot hope to face the might of the Arbor fleet and the Reach. He is but a crow. Lord Euron will gorge himself on gold and plunder, aye, but as soon as we move against him he will back to Pyke, as Lord Dagon was wont to do in his day." Paxter Redwyne said.
"You are wrong," said Margaery Tyrell. "Reavers do not come in such strength. A thousand ships! Lord Hewett and Lord Chester are slain. Lord Grimm and Lord Serry have fled to Highgarden with what few ships remain him, and Lord Grimm is a prisoner in his own castle. Willas says that the iron king has raised up four lords of his own in their places."
The king had been silent since he had entered the room, duty weighed up on his shoulders. "It is a long voyage from the Iron Isles to the Shields," his brother pointed out. "How could a thousand ships come all that way without being seen?"
"Willas believes that they did not follow the coast," said Margaery. "They made the voyage out of sight of land, sailing far out into the Sunset Sea and swooping back in from the west."
"I would suggest that the Redwyne fleet be sent to handle the ironborn dilemman, Your Grace." Tyrion said and he turned to Margaery. "But Highgarden must answer this threat."
"Highgarden shall answer," said Margaery Tyrell. "Willas has sent word to Leyton Hightower in Oldtown, so he can see to his own defenses. Garlan is gathering men to retake the isles. The best part of our power remains with Lord Tarly, though. We must send word to him at Maidenpool to switch his direction to the Reach. At once."
"I think not," Tommen said with a sharp voice, every eye on the throne room glued to him beside the Kingsguad except Loras. "Lord Tarly will take Storm's End… While I take the Iron Islands."
Shocked gasps were heard all round even from Jaime and Tyrion moved to speak, "Your Grace, surely you cannot mean-"
"You heard me. I will not sit here meekly while men kill and die for me. The army is awaiting me at Riverrun. I will take Riverrun and then I will gather the Lannister fleet and attack the Iron Islands. One thousand ships, was it not? That leaves the Iron Islands undefended with green boys and women which will all be put to the sword once I arrive. The Iron Islands will be razed to the ground and once I leave those damned islands, only rocks will remain."