Jaime

The first time he saw the dragon he was on the ramparts above the Mud Gate. There was no mistaking him for a flock of birds or a plume of smoke wafting up from the trees. Even from a distance his scales shone like polished onyx in the fading sunlight and his wings took Jaime's breath away. There are three, he remembered, feeling ill. And she doesn't know where the other two are. Freglyn was with him and had gone a wretched white, stuttering like a halfwit.

"Be at ease, lad." Jaime said, the words coming only slowly. "He's not even looking this way." Indeed, the black dragon had merely circled sluggishly over the kingswood before dipping out of sight again. Bored, Jaime guessed. Only stretching before heading back to sleep. On Dragonstone even he'd not caught a glimpse, hearing from Tyrion that but for Daenerys' visits all the dragon did was sleep. Whoever heard of a lazy dragon? Only, that wasn't quite right. Tyrion had told him also of the dragon's wroth at Jon Snow's interest in the beast's "mother". To hear it told, he's sent black fire the way of any man who even farts around her. Yet he only snarls and sneers at this bastard from the north. Ned Stark would be proud. What was old rumor about the mother, something about a fisherman's daughter? Jaime shook his head. The wench must have died giving the sullen boy life. Thank her for that much, Snow. Had she lived you might have grown up a Rivers instead, learning to ply a rudder instead of swing a sword. But then, maybe the lad would have preferred a mother instead of Catelyn Stark. When it became obvious Jaime's mind had left the wyrm hidden in the trees to the south, Freglyn jostled him.

"We'd best get inside, milord. It's going to be another cold one, with the winds."

"Fuck." Jaime replied immediately, almost reflexively. The cold, when it had made itself comfortable, was bad enough but of late they'd gotten winds to make it all the worse and whip through the wider streets of King's Landing like a slaver's scourge. The sky looked fouler by the day as well.

"It won't be some soft teasing kiss. Our first snow's going to come hard and fast, a crossbow quarrel to the chest." The lad was saying. Or in the cock, Jaime thought. Freglyn had good instincts though, probably from making a living at the mercy of the weather as much as luck at avoiding patrols in the kingswood. Whenever he thought the coming night would be bad, he almost always proved right. And while our knees knock and our teeth chatter, Daenerys Targaryen has a black dragon to keep her warm. That or a white wolf.

After a sleepless night of constant wind Jaime found himself talking down the guildmasters for what seemed like the thousandth time. He could pretend he hadn't seen the dragon himself but once the gold cloaks had spotted him there could be no quashing the rumors that spread through King's Landing.

"Ser Jaime, there can be no doubt that the dragon queen intends to take the city any day-"

"Just now she seems content to laze in the kingswood with her savages-" Jaime began before Arlas interrupted him.

"Aye, them and the small matter of a bloody fucking dragon. Have you all seen him? Black like coal with wings the color of raw meat-"

"-and he's about as likely to spread them over King's Landing as sit the Iron Throne himself. Steel yourselves, lads. You'll need stiffer spines than those I'm seeing if you wish to impress the queen into giving you better charters." Jaime finished firmly.

"Who cares about charters when dragons and Dothraki are knocking on our door?" one of the silversmiths asked.

"I've yet to hear them knock. They want to moon about in the forest, so be it. Cersei's not about to go on a boar hunt so what care is it of ours if the kingswood is occupied?" They stared at him.

"Ser Jaime, perhaps you simply do not see it from our friends' positions. Or mine, in fact. We have no castle to flee to in case the city is attacked. At your request we remained in the city to put on a charade, a farce that the city flourishes as ever when even the rats have trouble finding bones to pick. We have nowhere to flee to, nowhere to take refuge as a consequence. If these good men have concerns, they cannot be so easily dismissed as you seem to think." Chataya said in her soothing summer lilt. Jaime dared not say any more simply for their sakes. It's not like I can bloody tell them Daenerys might just move on once Cersei's been dealt with.

"You've no need to flee nor hide. Dothraki are men, as we are. They drink and swear and wonder if it will rain the same as we do. Certainly, anyone who's seen Ser Gregor Clegane at work has little and less to fear from a lad ahorse with bells in his hair." he said, shrugging. You'd think a Lannister quite at ease would settle them. As far as they know Daenerys is as much after me as Cersei. His words did little to soothe them he saw so he concluded their meeting shortly after. As the cups and tankards were cleared away, Jaime noticed the blonde-haired green-eyed Marei among the working girls, trying hard to stay out of his sight. "These are going to be a trying few days-"

"So you've said, my lord. No doubt you're entertaining thoughts that neither you nor the queen will survive them. Forgive me but what business, what care is that of mine? Do you fancy that if I went to Casterly Rock in your stead its castellan would see me and obey out of hand? I was born in this building, raised on the Street of Silks. My life, my family, my world is here. As long as King's Landing is in danger you may count me an ally but do not tap me on the shoulder and presume it will turn me into someone I am not." He only looked at her, feeling amused and crestfallen both.

"What a shame his only child worth a copper got shoved out of sight." he replied.

"Your father held a poor view of commoners like my mother. She was less a person, more a tool to him. Small wonder her child was beneath his notice, to say nothing of his affection." She fetched the last of the dishes and followed her sisters back downstairs. Truly, a Tywin in the making. I pity the husband she takes, if she lives so long.

Any other man might have simply stayed at Chataya's for the night, but Jaime could not so much as abide the thought let alone use an empty room. I need no rumors reaching Cersei. Chataya herself seemed to notice Jaime's fatigue and discomfort both, coming near. He felt too weary to tell her off. Besides, there's nobody here to see just now.

"Ser Jaime, I think it's time you made your way back to the castle, yes?" she asked quietly, almost inaudibly.

"Assuming I don't fall off my horse on the ride up the hill, yes." "Well then, allow me to entertain your fantasies in one way, if not the other." She gave a shy smile, one Jaime would not have believed such a wanton-acting creature capable of. She led him to a wardrobe, sliding it open and moving the back away to reveal a ladder down. At once his eyes went up and he somewhat sheepishly peered down into the darkness. "Are you capable of any other magic, Chataya?" he asked. She laughed.

"Only the kind that helps. Never that harms."

"Be that as it may, give me a torch and I'll happily follow this little tunnel wherever it goes."

"A stable on Rhaenys' Hill, near the Dragonpit if I'm not mistaken, ser. From there you can borrow a horse from some generous city guardsman for an easier ride back to the Red Keep." Chataya advised.

"Truly, if anyone deserves the favor of the gods it is you and your fetching daughter, my lady." Jaime said, finding the boy he had once been excited at the prospect of an adventure despite his tired body.

"Your favor would be blessing enough, my lord." Chataya replied, handing him a torch from under a bed. He took it as she gave him space to disappear down the ladder, closing him into darkness when his feet hit earthen floor. The tunnel in which he found himself was roughly hewn but perhaps just high enough to stand in, just wide enough to stretch his arms out. Nothing to be afraid of, he told himself. Just like when the two of us jumped off that cliff. Jaime slowly made his way forward, feeling the ground rise under his feet. Up we go. He had walked for perhaps a half hour when he heard something off in the darkness. A rat no doubt. This must be their Street of Silk.

"Jaime." The whisper came so unexpectedly Jaime promptly hurled the torch forward into the darkness. Immediately there was a yelp and a hiss as something dived out of the way, landing with a grunt while Jaime brandished his steel hand. I'll give you a cracked skull as a goodbye gift at least, he resolved before seeing Tyrion wearily getting to his feet. His mind wheeled from one scenario to the next, gaping like a fish as his little brother groaned, rubbing his elbow. "Ass…" he muttered.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jaime hissed. Tyrion's sullen indignation melted into terse irritation.

"I can't exactly skip down the Street of Silk, can I? Or has Cersei rescinded her pledge of a keep to the man who brings her my head?"

"A keep and a lordship."

"Ah, good. And I was thinking maybe Cersei didn't hate me so much as I thought."

"Tyrion, why are you here? Sneaking your way up to the castle rathole by rathole to implore Cersei-"

"Cersei's a lost cause and has been since I can remember." His words hit Jaime like Honor's hoof. This from the Imp trying to make peace between his house and the dragon queen on the other side of the world. Tyrion wrestled with something for a moment, evidently most distraught. "Jaime…I'm not here for Cersei." He doesn't know about Marei or he'd have brought her up before now. Then another possibility reared its head.

"Tyrion, did you lose the dragon queen?" he asked quietly.

"I didn't lose her, she made off while the rest of us were babbling 'round the bonfire!" Tyrion protested, his voice higher than normal.

"So much for the White Wolf and his precious ranging. How did he react when he found out some mewling kitten wandered off on his watch?" This time Tyrion looked positively unwell. Like he hasn't shit in a week.

"He came in after her. Jaime, he fucking came in after her." Jaime took a long breath. These fucking children.

Tyrion needed no torch to lead the way.

"I've used this tunnel enough times and walking forward is not so great a task when I've such a short way to fall." he explained as they moved upward.

"I don't suppose you told them about all these pet passages before they fucked off?"

"Never did get the chance."

"So they're somewhere in this stinking city one looking for the other and only us stopping Cersei's knives from finding them by accident?"

"Cersei's luckier than most when it comes to people she wants dead actually dying. Myself excepted." Tyrion said.

"And the Dornish wenches. And Sansa Stark. And Daenerys. And Jon Snow." Jaime added. He could only see the back of his brother's head but Jaime knew when Tyrion was wont to roll his mismatched eyes. "Even if we find them, we'll have to work out how to get them out before Cersei notices I'm missing. Granted, with the two of us we have the advantage. Instead of a century to search King's Landing we can split the work and meet up in fifty years."

"Perhaps you should let me do the thinking."

"The last time I left you to your own devices, Father ended up dead." Tyrion turned to him, lips pursed and eyes wide. "It wasn't just Father. I made my way to Meereen and back on a trail of farce and folly that would make a statue weep with laughter. Perhaps of late I've overestimated myself."

"Knowing you're stupid is the first step toward being a smart person." yet another voice called from the darkness. Arya Stark was seated primly on a rock at the base of a ladder. Chataya told it true. Everything but the wolf princess waiting for us.

"Tyrion, you're not to be left alone with royalty anymore!" Jaime said tersely, hearing his own voice go high and echo up the ladder.

"Don't fault him. He was no more able to stop us coming than was to stop Jon leaving or the dragon queen before him."

"Us?"

"Oh, fuck. You missed some things while you were nannying King's Landing." Tyrion said, remembering something or other.

"Nevermind just now. We have to get moving." Stark said, quickly scaling the ladder. Jaime stared at it for a moment before he worked out just how best to ascend, by using his right arm as a hook while his left gripped the ladder. A low rattling reached them from far up the ladder, one that quickly worsened into a true cacophony. As if all this wasn't enough. Now I have to do it soaked, Jaime thought. Coming up off the ladder was itself comical, with Tyrion and Arya grabbing Jaime just as he lost his grip, stopping him from tumbling back down the hole. Was that good luck or bad? he mused, decided it was better not to much think on. Rain pounded the roof of the stables and Jaime could see the ground outside quickly turn into a river of mud. That will please the people. Freezing rain on top of all their other woes. Best just give us snow and be done with it. He sighed and moved to the doors, flipping his cloak over his head. Not that it will help. Nobody will recognize me in this deluge, hood or no. They were half walking, half wading toward Aegon's High Hill, the streets deserted down to the last rat.

"I imagine if it carries on long enough it will soak the ground through. Anything to drive out the vermin." Jaime muttered, thought he was sure the others could not hear him.

On reaching the drawbridge Jaime mused on how he'd get the guards on the gate to lower it. Most like they aren't even at their posts. They'd not hear my calls anyway, even if they were the most stalwart worthies ever to man a gate. The rains in the riverlands seemed a babe's tears compared to the ocean the sky was loosing upon the capital just then. Jaime could see the moat around the castle slowly begin to fill despite the secret drains that no doubt fed water back to the bay. Then he almost pissed himself when a pale hand came up from the moat, grabbing the smooth rain-slicked bricks sure as if they had handles. Slowly a young woman pulled herself into view, one Tyrion and Stark made no move to help. On closer inspection Jaime could see why. The lass had a pretty enough face but the rain caused it to ripple like a reflection in a pond, her unblinking gaze locked on him despite the drops that made her eyes flicker in and out of being.

"Don't worry, it gets worse." she told him sullenly, though she seemed pleased at the bad shock she'd given him.

"Jaime, this is Talisa Maegyr, formerly Talisa Stark, Queen in the North." Tyrion intoned in a small, polite voice. If his words were supposed to calm Jaime or garner recognition, they failed in both respects. Where do you find these people, brother?

"I'm the Young Wolf's widow. The Freys murdered me at the Red Wedding. Me, my husband, and our child." she elaborated rather crossly. Oh. Then Jaime began remembering. "Are these rains of your making? Were you the one pissing on us when we were moving through the riverlands?" Talisa smiled. "Do you want to go inside or not?" she asked teasingly. Stark giggled.

"Less than anything I could possibly want, but I have to." he told her, the woman's smile disappearing. All the while the rains fell, water steadily rising in the moat.

"Wait here." she said, simply falling apart into a gush that ran every which way before joining the rest. A few minutes later the drawbridge came down, the loud slam lost in the driving rain. "Best hurry." Talisa advised from across the way. "If you slip off, you'll be in Blackwater Bay before you can blink." She needn't wait for me to slip. She could knock me off at any moment, Jaime thought as he gingerly made his way across the soaked wood. Tyrion and Stark coming up behind him just as carefully. On reaching solid stone he sent a quick prayer the way of whatever gods had their eye on him. Thus far, anyway.

"I don't suppose you two have forgotten your way around this place." Jaime said to his (living) companions. "What places I haven't been I can work out without much trouble." Stark replied, her eyes going dull. Tyrion smartly caught her before she could crash to the floor, but it took Jaime picking her up to get her out of her fit. "He's on his way." she stated.

"Good. How long until-" From out of the corner of his eye Jaime spotted an ancient black tomcat, once the bane of Tommen's existence, slink out of the shadows with a haughty rasping yowl.

"That toothless old bastard? He's not exactly going to take care of Clegane for us-"

"He knows the Red Keep better than anyone who's ever lived. Every passage, every corridor, every hiding place." Stark interrupted him. With that she promptly turned and followed the cat, every bit as nimble. Every bit as like to scratch, too. Talisa followed after her at once, leaving a water-slick trail behind her. I wonder what the fishfolk would make of her. Jaime hadn't seen one up close, but he heard little else from the guards and gaolers on Dragonstone.

"We need to drop in on Qyburn first. At least, I do. I have to let him know what's going on." If we disarm Cersei it will make no matter that Daenerys has gone one ahead, nor Jon Snow. It will be merely a matter of finding them then. After which I'll roar at them loud enough to shake the Red Keep.

"Who?" Stark asked. Jaime swore he could hear Tyrion's brow furrow.

"The one the Citadel tossed out on his aging ass?"

"He's no spring sprig but that hasn't stopped him being useful to Cersei." Jaime replied.

"Are we killing him, then?" Talisa asked, seeming untroubled by the idea. A blushing girl you are not. You're as much river as woman and rivers drown people every day.

"He's going to help us stop Cersei from burning King's Landing down. There's caches of wildfire scattered beneath the city, a lasting legacy of Aerys'. Knowing Cersei, she's had more made after the Blackwater and the Sept thinking it makes any problem go away." Jaime said the words so easily he took himself aback. As much wildfire as woman and wildfire kills thousands unless it's stopped. To his great surprise the tomcat proved quite worthy of Stark's hard-earned praise, avoiding any patrols that might have been on duty and Clegane himself, wherever he stalked. "Down here." Jaime whispered, knocking briskly on the door of the laboratory. A few moments became more than a few and he realized he was holding his breath. Open the door, please. After there was no reply, a voice at Jaime's side almost made him scream aloud.

"Nobody home…" Tyrion whispered. Jaime's mind whirled with every possible eventuality, each worse than the last. Qyburn's turned on me, Qyburn's been found out and killed, Qyburn's- The door slowly opened, revealing the stolidly grim face of Ilyn Payne.

"Thank the gods. Where the fuck have you been?" Jaime hissed, elbowing past him and leading the rest of them inside.

Perhaps it was Qyburn's reputation as a torturer, graverobber and necromancer, but Jaime heard nobody approach the laboratory while they took stock.

"Right, Qyburn was supposed to help me neutralize Cersei before she could toss the torch, so to speak but as he's disappeared it will have to be you lucky cunts." he said, nerves fraying by the second. "Clegane's nowhere to be found so he's likely in the throne room with Cersei. Someone will need to get him away from her or she'll have time enough to realize she's lost. Time we cannot let her have, a realization she can't be allowed to reach." He meant to add 'until afterward' but somehow his mouth left it out. A brisk knock made his stomach leap, but Stark only shrugged. Briskly she opened the door without a word from Jaime and in came Varys and a red-haired man with an odd lock of white.

"Oh, now who are you?" he asked, slapping a hand to his head.

"Jaqen H'ghar of Lorath." The man replied serenely in a lilting accent. Lost, Jaime could only look to Stark.

"He's one of us." She said at once. Jolly good, but just what are we? he thought, a breath from hysteria. Taking as long as he dared to still the spinning going on in his head, he got the lot of them around one of Qyburn's crates, planning as he went. Bronn would not approve. In fact, if Tyrion's expression was any sign, he didn't like their course any better. Scarcely time to talk it out over maps of the castle, brother. Jaime exhaled and began to talk.

"Right. Since there are enough of us to put a few fires out at once, so to speak, I figure we'll have to split up. We have to keep reinforcements from coming into the castle so the rains will need to hold at least that long." Talisa gave a wry smile. "Now, the castle's got wildfire beneath it the same as the rest of King's Landing. To stop the stuff from seeping out of the floors and walls, whatever cisterns or drains the Red Keep's got have to be at full flow."

"Chances are they're shut in the first place on Cersei's orders to stop me from creeping my way in. She never lost an opportunity to mock me for minding Casterly Rock's innards in my youth. I'll need to take Varys with me, though, to negotiate whatever passages lead there quickest." Tyrion said, eyes alight at the chance to solve a unique riddle.

"Then it's just the tiny wrinkle of the eight-foot giant that never leaves Cersei's side." Stark surmised.

"One you'll have no part in smoothing. You're to follow the cat straight out of the castle as soon as we're done here." Jaime said flatly. Stark's mouth tightened but to his great surprise there was no sassy retort. "You brought us this far, princess. That you came at all is a testament to your bravery and your stupidity both." Jaime told her, not unkindly. "If anything, you're your father's daughter."

"Jon's still somewhere in the city-"

"-and no more harm will come to him than you, if we manage to piss in Cersei's pudding." Her glower didn't budge but Jaime had other concerns. He turned to Payne, who stared at him with the unknowable eyes of a killer. But can he fight? Can he last, if only long enough? "Ser, it seems the pleasure of drawing Clegane off Cersei is yours. Luckily, I've got something to even the odds in your favor, if only a little." Payne gave no sign that he had heard, no hint that he assented but his silence was a tongue Jaime had long since learned. "Their loss." Stark told her Lorathi friend. "One mute executioner isn't going to stop Gregor Clegane." At this Payne clacked in what might have been indignation.

"Valar Morghulis." The Lorathi replied, nodding. After a moment of uneasy silence Tyrion spoke up.

"Once the cyvasse pieces are laid it's bad luck to have second thoughts. Come, Lord Varys." he said, heading out.

"That sounded like something he made up on the spot." Jaime muttered doubtfully.

"It was." Varys replied before following Tyrion. Talisa it seemed needed no particular place to do what needed doing.

"It's easiest if I can see the sky is all. I'll head out to the walls, no one will come to Cersei's rescue tonight." she said, leaving them without a second look. Jaime could feel Stark's eyes on him.

"Before you leave," he told her, "there's something I need to give you."

His chambers were just as Jaime had left them, as he knew they would be. Cersei would never suspect me of having secrets from her. She doesn't think me smart enough. From a trunk at the foot of his bed he pulled Widow's Wail snug in its scabbard and the doll that could only have been Sansa Stark's, a gift from Lord Eddard.

"It seems to me I owe you a sword. For Harrenhal." Stark didn't answer. He held it out to her hilt-first, that she might draw it. Her hand trembled something fierce as it closed around the grip, drawing it only with a look of greatest trepidation. Widow's Wail gleamed as handsomely as ever, the sword's smoky red blade rippling with black. "Ice had steel enough for two blades, my father claimed. Widow's Wail is one of them. The other-"

"Oathkeeper, with Brienne of Tarth." Stark cut in, eyes on the blade. "When I asked her how she learned to wield a sword, she told me her father had taught her."

"If she's gone to Sansa as I hear, each of Ned Stark's daughters got one of Ice's, then." I wonder what honorable Eddard Stark would make of me now, Jaime mused. Or grieving Lady Catelyn. Stark took Jaime in for a long moment then left in turn when the cat rubbed up against her leg, the Lorathi silently trailing behind. Only Payne and Jaime himself remained. "I hope your fearsome reputation holds." He told the mute knight. The sword presented to Ilyn Payne to replace Ice was not Valyrian steel, but its reach was long. Hopefully steeled enough to withstand a few of Clegane's blows. Jaime's stomach roiled unpleasantly and his legs had turned stiff as stone, but eventually the doors of the throne room came into view, as did the woman who stood before them. Had I a cup of wine to steady my nerves I might have pissed myself just now. It had been years since he'd looked upon the woman, but he'd know Catelyn Stark anywhere. Her hair was just as Tully red and her eyes were just as Tully blue, but she'd gone watery the way Talisa Maegyr had. The Freys gave them to the river and the river gave them back.

"Where is my daughter?"

"Gone out of the castle, her Lorathi close behind. She'll come to no harm, my lady."

"As long as your sister sits on the Iron Throne, propped up by countless wildfire caches, Arya is no safer than the poorest orphan girl. Cersei is a danger not only to her and to you, ser, but all who live. If it means keeping the throne, she will gladly send not only King's Landing but the world entire the way of the Sept of Baelor. Including a very precious pair lost somewhere in the streets below. I scarce hear else of Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen than that they came into this world to safeguard it. Just now it seems you've come into this world to safeguard them. Winter is coming, Ser Jaime. Without them, I fear there can be no spring."

"I am a knight of the Kingsguard, Lady Catelyn. It is my duty to keep Cersei alive, if not in power." Jaime's words sounded hollow. Listen to me, all but pleading on her behalf.

"You are a knight before a Kingsguard. It is your duty to protect the people, as I recall." Catelyn Stark put her hands to the door handles and pulled. "Come, ser, and do your duty."

All that death had given Catelyn, life had taken from Cersei. His sister's face had lost its soft sensual beauty, replaced by something steelier, determined. I imagine we look quite alike just now. She only had eyes for him as he came into the throne room, paying no mind to Ilyn Payne nor to who the rivers had made of a woman she might have shared grandchildren with. She sat the throne as if it was part of her, straight-backed and imperious. Ever the mummer, sister. I see the lines under your eyes, the stains under your arms, the stiffness in your knees. Getting closer, Jaime saw she had Joff's crossbow in her lap, the quarrels treated with some ungodly tarry substance. Aside her stood Gregor Clegane, massive as ever, and Qyburn with his harmless half-smile. At his feet lay the bucket he'd drained the ooze that swam through Clegane's veins into. No doubt she thinks herself invulnerable. Well, Kingslayer, nobody ever said talking her down would be easy.

"Your Grace." he called, his voice echoing through the empty throne room. For a moment he wondered if Cersei's hearing had gone.

"Her Grace would like to know how two usurpers managed to breach the capital's walls." Qyburn asked, polite as ever. Jaime felt as though he'd been kneed between the legs.

"Feel free to answer honestly, Lord Commander. The current Master of Whisperers is a marked improvement over his predecessor. Both because he is loyal, and because he's better at the job." Cersei said, voice void of any warmth. Jaime stopped moving at the bottom of the stair, looking past the monster and his maker at the woman on the throne.

"There's been an…unexpected development, Your Grace."

"Which development is that, Lord Commander? That the Mad King's daughter has given Casterly Rock to the walking curse that murdered our father and furthermore named him Warden of the West? That her missives and envoys have reached lords high and low the realm over in a clear bid to isolate me? That she's pregnant with a nameless bastard's whelp? Tyrion was ever eager to claim your rights out from under you, ser. The realms are a lattice of traitors and turncoats. When a girl has it in her head to call herself a queen, she opens her legs for any passing lout that takes her fancy. These are the workings of the world, ser. No one competent could call them unexpected." Tyrion's as likely to claim the Rock as the Iron Throne itself. As for Daenerys, she is a queen, and the only man who's like to share her bed is one she loves. The same could not be said of Cersei.

"No, Your Grace. Word has reached me of an enemy massing beyond the Wall."

"The wildlings have made common cause with Jon Snow, or are you ignorant of that as well?"

"Not the wildlings, Your Grace." Cersei's lips, once full and plush, disappeared into an incensed line.

"The Others are a story, ser. Told over and over until the northerners believed it, the same as with the Children of the Forest."

"You knew Ned Stark, Your Grace. His bastard is cut of the same cloth. He is not the sort to lie. Even if he were, one cunning bastard would not be enough to bring the wildlings under the same banner as the northmen. Something else is making them."

"Promises of southern riches, wines, and women, no doubt. A man will do most anything for those, be he peasant or king." Jon Snow is a king, and he could not want any of them less. Nor could I, for that matter. The same could not be said of Cersei.

"The snows will fall soon, Your Grace. This city's granaries are empty and its people are ready to riot-"

"We know how to handle a few angry smallfolk, ser." Cersei said, gesturing to Clegane.

"Why handle them at all? Let someone else go mad trying to fix King's Landing. The westerlands are nearly untouched but for Robb Stark's brief excursions and we have kin there besides. Casterly Rock is our place-"

"Casterly Rock is your place, as ever it has been, despite your dodging the responsibility. I have found my place, and I will keep it, wolves and dragons notwithstanding." Her words stunned him.

"Casterly Rock and King's Landing are on the opposite ends of Westeros." he said, feeling as though another were moving his mouth for him.

"That's what the maps suggest." Cersei said, rolling her eyes. Apart. One without the other. Once, the thought would have distressed her to fits and tears. Finally, he regained the use of his voice.

"I will not be parted from you, Cersei."

"You will be whatever your queen commands you be, ser."

"I would sooner give my only hand than see you unhappy. I would sooner die than leave your side."

"So handless, you'd be of even less use than you are now. A knight without a hand, a Hand without a title, a queen without a throne, a king without a name. It seems the lot of you deserve each other." She will not listen, he knew. Worse, she will not leave. He could only shrug his shoulders.

"What then would you have me do?"

"Scour this city top to bottom and do not stop until you can return to me with a dragon's heart in your hand and a wolf's head under your arm."

"What of the army fully ready to lay the city low if they are not returned untouched?"

"The traitors will be the ones laid low if they should try to take my throne."

"Your throne is already lost, Cersei. There is no food to be had in the entirety of King's Landing, what few people remain have done so only to give it the barest hint of life, and to be honest I'd gladly give up a hundred Iron Thrones if it meant your safety."

"You are a Kingsguard, ser. My safety is your purpose."

"A Kingsguard is first a knight, and a knight's purpose is the people. Should the two come to cross-purposes you need only remember I am called 'Kingslayer' to know which I will choose." That he was conscious after their exchange, let alone upright was a wonder to Jaime. Cersei for her part seemed almost stunned.

"Was that a threat?"

"No, that was a reminder." Hear Me Roar. Our words, sister. Now hear this. "If you try to burn down King's Landing, I am going to kill you. That was a threat. See the difference?"

Something struck him squarely in the belly. Jaime had to fall to the ground, had to hear the quarrel snap against the hard floor to realize he had been shot. At least she missed my cock ran through his mind before the agony seeped out through him, a rose with thorns for petals. Blood pounded in his ears but even through it he could hear the sound of steel on steel. Swords, he thought, trying to block out pain that made his phantom hand seem a friendly tickle. Jaime took a breath and got to his knees, the color seeping out of the world. Two figures, one large and looming and the other grim and bald, were squaring up on the steps to the throne. Payne, trying to kill Qyburn's monster. Cersei was on her feet, the crossbow in her arms down a quarrel. Jaime tried to rise but the effort made the world spin and he ended up on his back, Qyburn's face above him. The rippling figure of Catelyn advancing on Cersei barely kept Jaime conscious and it was a moment before he realized Qyburn was speaking.

"I dulled the quarrels myself, ser, and dipped them in milk of the poppy. You have perhaps thirty seconds to do what must be done." Then he was off, needle full of sludge in hand. Burying it in the chain between the plates that covered his huge chest and tree-trunk leg. At once an arm like a tree-trunk wrapped in plate lashed out and Qyburn lay unmoving in a fast-growing pool of blood ten feet away. Jaime heard the thrum of the crossbow, the sound of water splashing. Again, a thrum. This time he saw the quarrel lance through Catelyn's face. She did not so much as flinch. Jaime could see blue eyes alive with purpose looking into green ones dead of fear. "Once, you were a queen. Your husband was a king, you had two brothers to hold you up and three children to carry on your line." Catelyn's words were void of venom, empty of malice but Jaime could feel the power in them. Power that dulled his pain and sharpened his wits.

"Where is your husband now? Where are your brothers? Where are your children? Who now calls you queen? Once a wife, now a widow. Once a mother, mother now only to death." As Jaime regained his feet, he saw Catelyn was heading back toward the main doors, toward a slim figure with a black fuzz in its arms. Before she left, she turned back to the throne room and took it in. "For now we see what all a chair is worth. These southron woes will keep me warm up north." The figures disappeared and with them went the last of Jaime's pain, if not his numbness. He staggered past the knights, did not turn to look as Clegane fell to all fours, black bile seeping from between the plates. Neither did he gape as Ser Ilyn Payne drew up his silver-runed sword, pommel a grinning skull, and brought it down to send the giant's head spinning across the throne room floor. In Jaime's haste to get to Cersei he managed to knock her backward, falling against her. He heard her gasp as the torturous thing opened up her arms, her thighs, her legs. She made to shove him off but by then his hand, the one she had so little regard for, was at her throat. Every time she tried to rise, he squeezed. Only when she stopped fighting him did Jaime realize what that meant. Oh. You're dead. Before it could hit him, before it could catch him and split him as the womb had done, he was staggering through the halls of the Red Keep with her in his arms. He found himself in Cersei's room, rushing past her great table. He managed to reach the balcony before the pain returned, driving him to his knees and knocking away the stone railing. Together they lingered there, caught between worlds when the stars began to circle and wheel. Dancing across shimmering sea and deep blue sky both it looked quite as though it had begun to snow sapphires. You see, Cersei? Nothing to be afraid of.