This is my first attempt at writing any kind of FF so give honest comments. I also have no idea how to do much of anything on this site so let me know if something is busted. It's also on AO3 under the same name so you can see it there too if you like. But yeah, honest comments Even if they're just rude and unconstructive I'll take them. Expect this to be an AU that sticks to canon as closely as an AU can. Don't expect fantastical elements that don't exist in the books (or even the show) and the only character difference beyond basic author variance will be due to the AU (eg Viserys isn't insane and depending on how I write Jon in the Starks may be completely different).
Also note that this is a Targaryen story above all else. Others will obviously be in it, but similar to canon where it's the Starks as the main characters. Here it's the Targs.
Speaking of others, I don't know if the WW will be in this. They add dozens of chapters and thousands upon thousands of words by themselves to I don't know if I'm going to just ignore them or not. We'll see, it would be years from now that I get to them anyway.
Also please forgive formatting errors. Like I said, first time posting so if you see something wrong please point it out. If anyone knows how to make authors notes that aren't just written into the chapter and separated by horizontal lines, that would also be appreciated lol.
Prologue:
His hands were shaking.
When was the last time his hands had shaken? He couldn't remember. Perhaps when he crossed blades with the Smiling Knight? If anything he had never felt more alive than on that day. No, perhaps it was when Rickard and Brandon Stark had burned alive.
His gaze shifted to the center of the cavernous hall and he lost himself for a moment as the wall sconces and braziers cast ominous shadows across the monstrous skulls of long dead dragons.
Right there. It was from that pillar where a brazier now burned bright alongside the skull of some dragon he didn't know. That was where Brandon Stark had strangled himself to death reaching for his sword in a desperate attempt to free his father as the man had burned alive.
The screams echoed in his head. Rickard Stark's agony and the curses and pleas of Brandon Stark's party as they lashed against their chains. All while Brandon himself had desperately reached for a blade he never had a chance to grasp.
He could smell Rickard's skin burning away. He could feel the heat of the wildfire from his place at the foot of the throne. The terror-struck court that had appeared frozen in place, silently watching the horror before them. Silence broken only by the wolf lord's screams and the howling laughter of the Mad King. As if he was back in that moment he could see the terror in Rickard's eyes, the desperation and pain in Brandon's as his face purpled and his eyes bulged against the rope tied to his neck.
He clenched the gilded hilt of the bloody sword in his lap just as he had then. The pleading look he had given his brother, the overpowering urge to stop the madness. Only for Jonothor Darry to give him the barest shake of his head and turn back to the atrocity in front of them.
He tried to go away inside, like he'd done on that day. Like he'd had to do so many times since he came to this gods forsaken city. That had not been the first time Aerys had burned men for his own enjoyment, and it was not the last. Every time the king would cackle with laughter as the screams rang through the halls. Then, when it was over and the king had had his 'entertainment,' he would…
No! He pushed it away, desperately shoving the memories down, grasping at anything he could to distract himself. It was useless.
'Aerys, please stop! Brother please!' Unbidden and unwelcome, her screams echoed through his head. He tried to go away, he tried to think of anyone, anything else. Yet still they came again and again. Her pleas and her sobs.
'Not from him.' Three simple words that threatened to drown him, stealing his breath as he tightened every muscle in his body, his armour softly rattling as he began to shake.
A loud crash broke his trance and his eyes snapped to the massive stained glass windows overlooking the courtyard. The sounds of battle rang throughout the keep as the clash of steel and battle cries of men punctuated the defenders last stand.
Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that it heralded the arrival of the Lannister army. Rhaegar had taken nearly all of the Targaryen strength with him to the Trident. Barely three thousand had remained to defend the capital, most of them gold cloaks inexperienced in real combat. They had stood no chance even before that worm Pycelle had convinced Aerys to open the gates.
Though perhaps it is for the best. He thought. The Mad King's reign is finally at its end.
He turned his gaze to the corpse at the foot of the Iron Throne as the sounds of battle reached the entrance to the Great Hall. Aery's vacant eyes stared up at him as if in judgement of his sins. His face twisted with the shock and terror he had experienced just before he died.
The monster deserved it. I did it for everyone, the good of everyone! He clenched his gauntleted fists so hard he thought for a moment the mail would break beneath his fingers. Yet still the vacant eyes stared up at him. He didn't even notice as loud crashes began against the massive double doors to the Great Hall.
I had no choice! I never wanted this! But you forced my hand! You, Rhaegar, Stark, Baratheon, my fucking father, all of you! He could feel his skin beginning to break from the chain digging into his palms. His stomach roiled and he bit back his anguish. He wanted nothing more than to scream and curse at the corpse below him, to rage against the injustice of his life.
A final thunderous crack came as the door was smashed open, breaking his stupor. He turned to face the entrance and quickly schooled his expression, watching passively as Westermen marched into the hall. At the head of the small procession of men at arms were two knights clad head to toe in fine plate, a relatively thin man of average height, bearing a shield covered in white seashells, and a large, broad shouldered man standing a couple inches taller than himself wearing a surcoat emblazoned with a boar. If he had to guess, Ser Elys Westerling, heir to the Crag, and the newly lorded Roland Crakehall.
The men strode quickly through the hall before coming to a halt shortly before the foot of the Iron Throne and removing their helms, confirming their identities. Ser Elys merely stared uncomfortably at the corpse of the Mad King a mere yard away from them as Lord Crakehall gave an almost imperceptible shudder before cautiously approaching the throne.
"Ser Jaime-" He began, seemingly unsure how to approach the kingsguard sitting upon the throne. Lord Crakehall glanced at Jaime's bloodied sword for a moment before returning his gaze to Jaime's eyes. "Ser Jaime, I am glad to see you well, I see our fears for your well-being were unfounded.
Jaime had to try hard to bite back a scoff. I'm sure my father was quaking in fear for my safety.
"The Red Keep is ours Ser, and the city. Your lord father rides here as we speak." Lord Crakehall continued as his eyes flicked to Aery's corpse. "Shall we proclaim a new king?" He spoke the last words haltingly, as if unsure if he wanted to speak them. Ser Elys finally shifted his gaze away from the dead king to look expectantly upon Jaime.
He couldn't suppress the scoff this time. As if he had any desire for this accursed chair and the responsibilities that came with it. All Jaime had ever wanted was to fight and fuck. Anyone worthy for the former, and Cersei for the latter. To say nothing of how bloody uncomfortable the thing was. He had no idea how the Targaryens had sat their arses in it for so long. He would've melted it down within a fortnight if he were king.
Turning his attention back to Lord Crakehall Jaime pondered his question. He ultimately cared little who took the throne. Rhaegar, the only man he thought worthy of it, was dead, killed at the Trident while Jaime withered in King's Landing, ostensibly guarding the king. In reality a hostage to use against his father. Jaime spared a quick glance at Aerys' body. Much good that did him. He thought bitterly.
I should've been there. I should've been there to face that lecherous oaf's warhammer. I would've killed the usurper and protected Rhaegar. Instead I was kept here in some pointless power play against my father. As if he cares if I live or die.
His thoughts shifted to the silver prince himself. He had idolized Rhaegar since he'd first laid eyes on him. While Arthur embodied the warrior Jaime strove to be, it was Rhaegar who Jaime envisioned when he thought of what a king should be.
Aerys was a twisted creature, curling nails and knotted hair down to his waist, emaciated and with eyes that always looked as though they were going to devour you, body and soul. Rhaegar had been the opposite, handsome and kind, well groomed, and the embodiment of chivalry. A man of honor until he had met that northern whore.
Jaime had never believed the rumors that Rhaegar had kidnapped Lyanna Stark, he knew his prince, and the day he kidnapped and raped a woman was the day Jaime became Emperor of Yi Ti. No, in all likelihood the girl had seduced him at Harrenhal.
I had heard the rumors that Elia could no longer bear children, and I know theirs was not a loving marriage, but there was fondness there. They were hardly Aerys and Rhaella. He scowled as the memories flashed through his mind again. The screams.
Jamie's mind fled to a different memory, to the tourney of Harrenhal, trying to remember the Stark girl's face. Try as he did, he couldn't recall her. He had been preoccupied, it had been months since he had last seen Cersei so they had spent nearly any spare moment they could fucking anywhere they were unlikely to be discovered.
Jaime's face twisted into a frown. What could have driven Rhaegar to such madness. Of course Robert Baratheon in his vanity would take outrage to the prince stealing away his betrothed. Then the Stark boy with all his northern stupidity decided to waltz into the capital declaring his intention to kill Rhaegar. As if that was going to end any other way than it had. The memories returned to him again as the screams and smell of burning flesh threatened to drag him into the abyss once more.
"Ser Jaime?" Lord Crakehall broke him from his reminiscence, having grown uncomfortable with the prolonged silence and growing scowl on Jaime's face.
Returning his mind to the present Jaime focused his gaze on the men before him. "This hideous scrap of metal?" Jaime asked, giving an amused smirk to Lord Crakehall before looking at the throne beneath him and then to the madman growing cold on the floor. His grin quickly faded as he once again cursed Rhaegar for his folly. For throwing away the future. For leaving Jaime to do what he should have done years earlier.
Jaime shrugged and replied in an ambivalent tone. "It's all the same to me."
Lord Crakehall shared an uncertain look with Ser Elys before turning back to Jaime. "As you say Ser Jaime. We will resume our efforts to secure the Red Keep. Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch have already led some men to scale Maegor's Holdfast and drop the drawbridge. With your leave we will depart to coordinate our forces and prepare for your lord father's arrival."
Lord Crakehall continued speaking but Jaime didn't hear him. His blood had run cold. Clegane and Lorch. His father's mad dogs. The ones he assigned the tasks that even the infamous Lord Tywin Lannister would not sully his hands with.
His mind raced and he stooped forward, remembering the rumours he had heard for years. How Amory Lorch had cast the three year old Lord Tarbeck down a well. How Gregor's father had mysteriously died around Gregor's sixteenth nameday. His sister had been found shortly after, her body violated in every way and her head twisted near backwards. Bandits it was said. As if anyone believed that.
"Ser Jaime? Are you unwell? Shall we summon a maester?" Ser Elys panicked, stepping forward towards the throne.
"It will take some time to bring one from our camp outside the city but I can send men to find the grand maester. Your lord father said he was not to be harmed so I presume he has loyalties to your family." Lord Crakehall added, concern etched into his features.
Their words were wind, air rushing past him as his last conversation with Rhaegar replayed in his mind.
'Things will be different when I return Jaime. Perhaps all of this could have been avoided if I had taken action long ago as I should have.' Rhaegar had said with his usual melancholic expression.
The crown prince had looked resplendent in his midnight black armour, glistening blood red rubies forming the three headed dragon of his house on the breastplate. The prince had shook his head, his silver hair swaying slightly across his shoulders from the motion as he stared into the distance, as if looking at some alternate reality only he could see.
'I will not lie to you Jaime. You are here as a hostage against your father. Nevertheless I ask you to protect Elia and our children as you would me. Promise me Jaime.' The words rang in his head like a thousand bells. The prince's purple eyes had bored into his as if willing Jaime to understand the importance of the task he was being given.
'Promise me.' Again and again the words repeated in his head.
His eyes flashed with disturbingly vivid images of Clegane smashing the infant Aegon's head against a wall, raping Elia with the babe's brains still on his hands. Lorch dragging Rhaenys from beneath her father's bed as she screamed, stabbing her again and again and again.
The visions felt so real Jaime could swear they were happening before his very eyes. He couldn't breathe. He tried to stand but only managed to stumble forward slightly, feeling a sharp pain in his left hand. He looked at it to see it had been sliced open across the palm by one of the blades. He had absentmindedly grasped the throne to steady himself, and now small droplets of blood dripped upon the colossal throne. In a brief instant of concern he looked to his sword hand, fearing he had damaged the hand that was his very being. He was relieved to see that while his right hand had similarly latched onto another blade, his sword arm remained unscathed.
"Fetch a maester! Quickly!" Lord Crakehall shouted behind him to the men at arms staring at the scene before them. The Crakehall men rushed off as the lord turned to Ser Elys. "See if you can find the Grand Maester!" Ser Elys looked slightly panicked but nodded his head and ran off with his own men in tow, leaving Lord Crakehall and Jaime alone in the cavernous hall.
Watching to ensure his fellow Westerman were carrying out his commands, Lord Crakehall turned back to Jaime and hesitantly began ascending the steps of the immense throne.
"Ser Jaime-" He began in a tone one might use to talk a child away from a dangerous beast or object.
Jaime's head shot up to look upon the frightened lord. Lord Crakehall froze in place, clearly disturbed by the wild look in Jaime's eyes. Jaime's gaze shifted to his steel clad feet and the blade that now rested there after falling from his lap, it's gold and jewel encrusted hilt twinkling in the torchlight. The fine castle forged steel soiled with the blood of his king.
It was said that only those worthy could sit the throne. Aerys had scabs beyond counting from where it had cut him, while the great kings of old like the conciliator and the conqueror were said to have never once been scratched. Barristan had told him that even Jaehaerys II had only ever been cut once by the throne, and even that had only been due to trying to climb up the side on a drunken dare.
Jaime stared into his hands, his left dripping blood to mix with the Mad King's on his blade while the pale flesh beneath the pierced chain of his gauntleted right remained unharmed.
In that moment, it felt as if all creation were laid out before him. Every action he had taken for better or worse had led him to this point, this moment. Jaime stared into his hands, the hands of a kingslayer. The crossroads of destiny. Loyalty to my father. Or loyalty to the king that should have been. My friend.
Jaime's purpose was clear. He had murdered his king. The man who should have been king laid dead in the waters of the Trident. Even so, Jaime had his duty, he would keep his promise to Rhaegar, or die trying.
Lord Crakehall's surprise was evident when Jaime leapt from his seat, deftly picking up his blade as he did so, and began marching down the steps. His concern eased somewhat as Jaime descended but returned when Jaime practically shoved the lord out of his way in his haste towards the huge doors at the entrance to the hall.
"Ser Jaime? Ser Jaime, wait!" Lord Crakehall's confused voice trailed after him as Jaime broke into a sprint. Jaime held his pace as he passed through the corridors of the Red Keep towards the open courtyard that led to the serpentine stairs that would take him to the lower bailey. From there it was a short distance to Maegor's Holdfast, where Elia was sheltering with Aegon and Rhaenys.
His heart was racing, the images of his friend's family being slaughtered playing over and over again in his mind as he ran faster than he ever had before.
"Promise me Jaime." The words came unbidden once more.
If the Holdfast yet held against his father's men there was no way for him to enter, nor would the Targaryen guards be likely to allow his entrance given who he was. Nonetheless, Jaime carried on, rushing past Westerlands men flooding into the upper levels of the Red Keep and bursting out into the open air.
Jaime immediately felt the urge to retch as the overwhelmingly stench of fire and death washed over him. Although the sun had set some hours earlier, the sky held a soft glow from the fires raging across the city. Jaime steadied himself, looking down the serpentine stair that snaked from the upper levels of the Red Keep towards the lower bailey, and beyond it, Maegor's Holdfast.
Bracing himself for the task ahead, Jaime began his descent. As quickly as he could, two steps at a time he made his way down the stairs, his bones rattling as his golden plate armour slammed against the stones.
The Westerlands men he passed on his way down mostly seemed surprised by his presence and hastily moved out of his way. The unlucky few who were too slow of wit or body were roughly shoved aside by Jaime's armoured bulk. He heard some scattered yells for him to stop or for other men to stop him, but he paid them no heed as he continued his descent.
By the time Jaime reached the lower bailey, his chest was heaving with exertion, yet the adrenaline coursing through him made him feel as though he could sprint all the way back to Casterly Rock.
He could no longer feel the weight of his armor nor the lingering pain in his left hand as sparring rings and stables flashed past him, his white cloak snapping behind him. In a brief moment of levity, Jaime found himself grateful that Maegor's Holdfast was located at the bottom of the great staircase and had him going downhill.
Jaime slowed as he finally rounded a corner and came upon Maegor's Holdfast. The towering red stone walls of the redoubt held within the Red Keep stood daunting as ever, the charred heads of nameless men and women made victims of Aerys' madness still mounted on spikes upon the battlements. Jaime's heart quickly sank however as the drawbridge that should have been raised, had now been lowered, allowing his father's men to enter as they pleased.
The sounds of battle echoed from within as Jaime charged forward across the drawbridge, making his way to the royal apartments as quickly as he could.
As he raced through the halls towards his destination, Jaime barely registered his surroundings, moving by muscle memory along routes traveled countless times escorting the royal family. His mind only began to register exactly what was around him as he passed more corpses than he could count, servants and guards he recognized, some he even knew by name, all of them leaning limply against walls or strewn across the tiled floors. All with the same expressions of pain and terror.
Jaime could not ignore the slick sound of his sabatons splashing through the pools of blood as he ran. It felt as though he were wading through a river of blood to reach his destination, an endless battle against a current of fear and his own sins.
If I had only killed Aerys sooner, none of this would have happened. The doubt and self-loathing flowed through him before he quickly pushed the thought away. No. I was a boy playing at being a knight, Rhaegar, Arthur, Gerold, father, all of them failed the realm long ago by letting his madness fester. I won't fail like they did. With that Jaime pressed ahead ever faster.
As he ran, screams and the clash of steel rang out from neighbouring halls as the smell of blood and death assailed him from every corner. Westerman soldiers who turned to face him with swords drawn all seemed to quickly recognize his golden armour and white cloak, allowing him to pass unmolested, blood lust turning to confusion as they watched the kingsguard sprint past them.
Of course they know to watch for me, I'm sure my father has made it clear that any man who laid a hand on me would see their entire bloodline wiped out. That thought made him wince at the prospect of what would come of Rhaegar's family should he be too slow.
Passing the small kitchens that served the royal apartments on his way to Aegon's nursery he caught a brief glimpse of several serving girls being raped by his fathers soldiers. His stomach turned as he ran past, their sobs and pleas echoing down the hall after him.
'Promise me Jaime.' The words echoed in his mind once again and Jaime quickened his pace even further, his muscles screaming at him as the adrenaline began to fade and the act of maintaining such a sprint for so long and across such a distance began to take its toll.
Jaime ignored the pain, focusing on the castle around him, the halls he knew by heart that would lead him to his goal. He would not allow Princess Elia to suffer the same fate he had seen. Not while he still drew breath.
After what felt like an eternity he finally arrived at the entrance to the small sept next to the royal apartments. He slowed his pace and entered, and for the first time since leaving the throne room Jaime stopped to take in his surroundings.
He found the spacious heptagonal room choked with smoke, the colourful tapestries cast down, and several pews burning from what appeared to be a table of candles knocked over. One of the great stained glass windows looking out across the city from atop Aegon's high hill had been smashed, it's depictions of various passages from the Seven-Pointed Star in broken pieces across the singed and tattered Myrish carpets adorning the floor.
The broken window allowed a strong draft to pass through the shattered sept, sending pages from torn books and tattered cloth blowing through the sept like leaves amongst the ash and smoke.
Jaime continued, stepping over the toppled statues of the Warrior and the Maiden looking for any of his father's men that still remained within, but he saw only upended tables and the corpses of septas and a few silent sisters. Jaime's stomach twisted once again as he looked upon the carnage and noticed several of the septas and silent sisters had their blood splattered white robes ripped open, a testament to the suffering and degradation of their final moments.
Jaime scoffed. Not even the faith is spared my family's butchery. Was this what Castamere was like in its final hours? Was this what that glorious Lannister triumph looked like? Burning books and raped septas? I am no holy man and certainly hold no love for the written word, but there is no honor in this. No glory. This is nothing but cruelty and slaughter.
His mind drifted back to all the times he and Cersei had smiled when the Rains of Castamere was played at Casterly Rock. How it had filled him with pride at the fear his family instilled. The fear his father instilled. Only now did he truly understand why that fear was so powerful. Everyone was afraid of monsters.
Jaime's attention returned to the scene before him as he approached the dais where he had spent many a night watching over the Queen in her prayers. No doubt wishing for someone to do what I finally did. A burden that should've never fallen to me.
He shook his head to clear the bitter thoughts away, turning instead to focus on the dais, an ornate wooden piece plated with gold and emblazoned with a rainbow colored seven-pointed star. The admittedly impressive piece of craftsmanship now cleaved clean in two diagonally, along with the man who presided over it.
Only one man wields a weapon large enough and is strong enough to cut through that much wood and metal with a single blow. He is already here. A flicker of fear that he may be too late passed through him and Jaime moved to continue, only to find his eyes drawn to the victim of his father's dog.
Stepping lightly over the lower half and scattered entrails of septon Lucos, Jaime couldn't help but pity the man. He had often offered his services for Jaime when he was here for his duties, offering to pray with him at a time of Jaime's choosing. The man had only ever given polite smiles and open invitations, even when Jaime laughed at the offers.
The Gods loathe me and I them. The resentment passed through him as it had so many times before since the Gods had taken his mother from him. But Lucos wasn't so bad.
Taking a moment to look down upon the face of the kindly septon, Jaime noticed the man's face was a mask of serenity, even with his means of death most definitely not being instantaneous. The man had nonetheless endured his doubtlessly agonizing final moments with a passive face and eyes closed in blissful resignation.
I hope you find that eternal peace you were always preaching about old man. Jaime only allowed himself to linger for an instant before he was striding past the dead septon and through to the living areas.
He approached the entrance to the royal apartments and found the guards Aerys had posted there already dead. Jaime's blood froze as he noticed one had seemingly had his head thrown against the wall with sufficient force to cave in the man's helm and skull, allowing blood and brains to smear the wall along his corpse's descent. Jaime's previous conclusion was verified as only one man in Westeros had the strength to do that to a knight in full armor.
More of Clegane's work. Jaime tightened his grip on his sword and momentarily paused as the blood upon the blade caught his eye.
'BURN THEM ALL!' The King's screams echoed in his mind. Jaime closed his eyes and took a moment to fortify himself before striding forward into the royal apartments.
Passing through the halls adorned with tapestries of past Targaryens and suits of armour, Jaime stopped to check first Rhaenys' rooms and then Rhaella's and even Viserys'. Finding each empty and undisturbed.
Jaime's chest began to grow tight as each door he opened led only to an empty room. Even storage rooms and guard watch posts were only occupied by the occasional corpse of a Targaryen household guard or one of the servants.
Jaime's thoughts began to race once more. Am I too late? Has Clegane already taken them somewhere? Could the princess have escaped? Could they have fled to Aerys' rooms? The king's rooms have the most secret passageways in the castle. The possibilities blurred through his mind as half a hundred secret passageways Gerold and Arthur had gone over with him had him unsure where to go next.
His thoughts were interrupted as a piercing scream and a litany of curses grabbed his attention from down the hall. Jaime raced to follow it and found himself before the door to Prince Rhaegar's suites.
Shoving the door open, he stormed through Rhaegar's study to his and Elia's bedroom. Upon entering he found Princess Rhaenys sobbing and trying to crawl under the massive four poster bed as Amory Lorch and two men at arms bearing Amory's black manticore heraldry cursed and swung their swords wildly at their feet.
It was then that Jaime noticed Princess Rhaenys' cat Balerion running between their legs before dashing into an adjoining room. Lorch was nursing his hand and Jaime surmised with a flicker of amusement that the cat had bitten him.
Sobering quickly at the situation, he noticed that one of them had managed to hit the cat as a piece of its ear appeared to be missing and the stump was now bleeding. Jaime began to move forward and demand they step aside before he glanced at the Princess who had turned back in their direction, screaming for Balerion to run away. Jaime saw she was bleeding profusely from a gash across her collarbone. The toddler looked terrified as she cried and held her hands to the wound, calling for her cat to run.
Jaime's vision turned to red. All he could see was the little girl he had played with countless times, who had introduced him to her kitten with such pride, who had offered to show him the Red Keep when he first arrived as a starry eyed boy.
He lunged forward, shoving his blade through the back of one of the men at arms, ripping it out and performing a half turn to open the throat of the other as he turned towards his assailant. Lorch's eyes widened as he himself spun around and saw Jaime striding towards him.
"Ser Jaime? I don't understand, what are-" his sentence was cut off as Jaime removed his unhelmeted head from his shoulders in a single strike. Surveying the room to assure there were no more threats to the Princess Jaime turned to her.
"Princess are you okay?" He asked as reassuringly as he could.
He instantly regretted his choice of words however. The girl was barely three name days old and had been assaulted in her father's room by three men who clearly intended to murder her. She was already bleeding from where one of them had cut her.
"Ser Jaime? I don't know. It hurts." The girl whimpered, her black eyes widening as she looked down at her bloodied dress.
Jaime rushed forward, letting his sword fall from his hands and bringing the girl's head to his shoulder as gently as he could. She clung to him and immediately began to sob again. If not for the furnace of rage within him Jaime may have broken down as well. Rhaenys had never hurt anything in her life. She didn't deserve this any more than the innocents in the streets below had deserved the Mad King or his father.
Pulling away from her Jaime made his best attempt at his signature smirk and spoke to her. "My apologies Princess, I know you were about to fend them off all by yourself but it is a Kingsguards duty to protect his Princess."
He tensed and dropped his hand to where his sword had fallen as he caught movement in the corner of his eye, only to relax as Balerion ran up to Rhaenys and huddled against her. "Assuming Ser Balerion didn't have things well in hand himself."
Rhaenys let out a small giggle before wincing at the pain in her shoulder and starting to cry again. Jaime reminded himself of her age and that he likely cried over scraped knees when he was that young. Here Rhaenys was having taken a blade to the chest and she somehow managed to maintain a measure of composure, if even for just a moment.
Refocusing on the situation, he reached for his dirk, cutting off a clean piece of his cloak before applying it as a makeshift bandage to Rhaenys' collar. While it wasn't very deep and might not even scar, it was going to cause quite a bit of pain and could fester if left unattended. He made a mental note to make sure she saw a maester once they had escaped the city.
"Princess-" he began, trying to make his voice as level and reassuring as possible. "I have to go help your mother and brother now. Which means you'll have to hide with Balerion for a short while."
Rhaenys' eyes immediately went wide with fear and he quickly made to reassure her. "Don't worry, it will only be for a short while, and I'll be right back with Aegon and your mother okay?"
Rhaenys nodded hesitantly before speaking in a hushed tone. "Are they going to hurt Mother and Egg too?"
He could see the terror in her eyes, as if it reflected the same fears he held in his own heart. "Not if I have anything to say about it Princess. Now come on, we have to find you someplace safe to hide."
Jaime crouched down and turned so that Rhaenys could slowly climb on his back. His mind drifted back to all the times she had demanded she ride on his or another Kingsguard's back like she was riding a dragon. His reminiscence and faint smile replaced by renewed fury as he heard her whimper in pain.
Jaime grabbed his sword and quickly rose to his feet, sheathing it and leaving her room before moving down the hall towards the stairs that led to Aegon's nursery. He arrived at a small alcove for servants' supplies before stooping to one knee and allowing Rhaenys to drop from his back.
"Stay here until I return Princess." He smiled as best he could at her and wiped some of the tears from her cheeks. "I'll be right back with your mother and your brother. If I don't return within ten minutes-" His voice trailed off.
If he was slain by the Mountain or some of his men what then? Lewyn, Jonothor, and Barristan had been killed at the Trident. Gerold, Arthur, and Oswell had never returned from retrieving Rhaegar from his seclusion in Dorne. He didn't know if they even lived. Regardless, not even the Black Bat, the White Bull, and the Sword of the Morning could cut their way through his father's entire army. No, if he failed that was it. Rhaenys could only hide for so long before his fathers men found her and dragged her from her hiding spot before slitting her throat.
"Wait here. I will return." Jaime affirmed.
An image of Rhaegar's somber smile for his daughter as he turned to leave for the Trident flashed before his eyes. Another image of one of Rhaegar's rare moments of true joy, tossing Rhaenys into the air as she squealed with glee.
Jamie's face set in determination as his emerald eyes met Rhaenys' black ones, staring into the face of the terrified girl he swore to protect. "I promise Rhaenys."
His promise seemed to give her a measure of comfort as she offered a wavering smile to him before huddling into the alcove behind some brooms and washing buckets with Balerion in her arms. The cat's piercing gold eyes never leaving Jamie as he nodded to her and turned. Quickly making his way down the staircase towards the nursery, Jaime arrived to see two of the Mountain's men at arms standing guard at the entrance to his goal.
"The Ser always gets to have the most fun." The one on the right groaned as the one on the left glared off to the side at a disemboweled Targaryen guard.
"Fuck the Dornish bitch and her royal cunt. 'Sides, who wants to fuck while some babe is squealing off to the side. I'd rather have a go at a few of those whores down in the kitchens. Figures I'd get stuck here on guard duty while Jax and Laric get their fill." The one on the left complained loudly before glancing down the hall to see Jaime striding towards them.
Quickly moving their hands to their hilts they made to move forward. The one on the left opened his mouth to give challenge but stopped upon realizing who it was approaching them. The one on the right stepped forward slightly and greeted Jaime with a grin completely unbefitting of the chaos and slaughter engulfing the city around them.
"Ser Jaime! A pleasure to see you well. Tis a surprise to see you here though. We thought you'd be with your lord father." He briefly glanced over his shoulder to the door of the nursery before turning back to Jaime.
"No need to worry about the royal sow and her mewling babe, the Ser has it well in hand. Taking care of them just like his lordship ordered." He continued in a nonchalant tone with a small chuckle at the end.
Jamie's stomach dropped. He knew his father had ordered this, but had wanted to pretend it wasn't true. House Lannister and the Westerlands had been neutral throughout the war. Even the Greyjoys had joined the rebellion and were raiding the Reach. Only the West had maintained neutrality. What better way to prove his loyalty to the new dynasty than to remove the last vestiges of the old?
He felt like he was going to be sick. His father had certainly given the order just as the man said. To 'take care of them.' Left deliberately vague but given that the order was to Clegane and Lorch would only have one result.
The two looked at eachother with some confusion as Jaime didn't answer and simply finished making his way down the hall. Their confusion quickly turned to terrified shock as in a single fluid move Jamie drew his blade and slit both mens throats, throwing the door to the nursery open before the bodies had even hit the ground, making a crash as metal and flesh hit the cold stone floor.
Jaime's eyes quickly adjusted to the poor lighting in the nursery, taking in the small area. The layout was quite simple as the room was not an actual nursery but a refurbished storage room. In his paranoia Aerys had demanded the newborn prince be placed in a room without windows. As such the nursery had a decidedly cold feeling, with only sparse furniture and a few tapestries of dragons placed upon the walls.
Having gained his bearing, Jaime's focus turned instead to those within the room. He found Elia Martell standing on the opposite side of the room from the doorway, standing in front of Aegon's crib. A small supper knife was clenched in her hands, her knuckles white as she held the short blade in a vice grip, outstretched towards the towering beast before her.
Gregor Clegane stood near eight feet tall, clad in steel thicker than any man had a right to be able to carry. He had already set his monstrous greatsword and helm aside and was in the process of opening his breaches as he laughed at the mortified woman in front of him. The bellowing laughter sounded like stone breaking and mixed with the shrieks of Prince Aegon from his crib served to give Jaime an instant headache.
Elia's black eyes, the same as those of her daughter, quickly shifted to him and he saw a glimmer of hope cross her face before shifting to even greater despair and Jaime's heart sank.
Does she truly think so little of me that I would be here to kill her and her infant son. Then again why wouldn't she? The son of Tywin Lannister held as little more than a hostage would have plenty of reason to harm his captors. Jaime quickly swept these thoughts away and brought himself back to the present.
There was only one course of action now, he had to try and force Clegane to step aside. Unlikely, but if this turns into a fight, it will be problematic. I won't have much room to maneuver and I've sparred with him before, he's quicker than he should be. I can't catch him off guard like I did Lorch or the bandits they drag around. I can take him, but what of the Prince and Princess? Can I shield them from this beast long enough for me to slay him?
Jaime made his decision and strode forward. "Ser Gregor! Stand down at once. I will take custody of the Prince and Princess." He stated firmly and with as much authority as he could muster.
Clegane quickly turned to look upon the interloper, careful to not allow Elia to leave his field of view. He briefly looked Jaime over before grunting and turning back to Elia, moving forward towards the shaking woman.
Jamie rushed forward and grabbed Clegane's arm to stop him from continuing. "Clegane, I am giving you a command. Stand down at once!" He shouted at the monster of a man.
Jaime was considered by most to be a tall man and of a strong build, but he was dwarfed by the beast before him. For an instant Jaime pondered on if this was how Tyrion felt looking up at him. He hoped the inkling of fear he felt didn't show on his face or in his voice.
Clegane stopped briefly to look back at Jaime. "I have my orders from your father." He replied in his rumbling voice before throwing his steel capped elbow back into Jaime's unprotected face, sending him reeling backwards several feet into the wall before sliding to the ground.
Jaime could hear as well as feel his nose crack from the blow before blood began to pour down his face, the taste of iron on his lips. I hope Cersei won't be too upset about that. She always did say she liked my nose.
The odd thought passed quickly and he turned to see Clegane had resumed his advance towards a now mortified Elia. No doubt she has reconsidered her chances with that knife after seeing a knight of the kingsguard tossed aside like a discarded plaything. But I won't be so easily ignored.
Shaking his head of stars, Jaime struggled to regain his bearings. Clegane had clearly held back but the blow had still broken his nose and left his head swimming. Nonetheless he pulled himself to his feet.
"My father ordered you to take care of them, I am here to see that done. They will be held until my father arrives to deal with them himself." Jaime struggled to keep his voice steady, fighting both dizziness from Clegane's blow as well as trepidation at the thought of having to kill the towering man in order to get the Prince and Princess out of the Red Keep.
Damn it. Listen to me using my father as though I were a child back in the halls of Casterly Rock. No matter, if it gets Clegane out of here I'll sing him the Rains of Castamere and extol my father's bloody virtues. He thought as he moved his hand to the hilt of his blade.
Clegane didn't even bother to respond as he spared only a cursory look over his shoulder before continuing forward towards Elia Martell.
You chose your dog well father. He knows the true meaning of your order as well as I. Jaime took a breath and lunged forward with his blade, aiming for the opening in Gregor's plate behind the knee.
Having heard Jaimes armored footfalls coming up behind him, Gregor turned with a swiftness belying his size as he swung his gauntleted fist at Jaime's head. Jaime ducked beneath it and thrust his sword up into Cleganes chest and towards his throat. Steel screeched against steel as Jaime's sword harmlessly scraped against Gregor's cuirass and deflected off his gorget, the steel far thicker than that worn by a normal man and virtually impervious to direct attack.
Gregor immediately grabbed Jaime by the collar of his own cuirass and slammed his head into Jamie's, sending him sprawling and seeing stars once again.
If I didn't have a concussion before I sure do now. The grim thought was quickly pushed aside as Jaime propped himself on his elbows to see Clegane staring down at him, completely unfazed by the contact.
Great. His head is as thick as his armour. So much for just lopping off his head like I did Lorch. Jaime thought with a flicker of dry amusement.
Gregor stared at him for a moment before grunting and beginning to stride towards him, having seemingly forgotten Elia and Aegon for the moment.
That's for the best I suppose. Clegane won't seriously harm me, he has to know my father would have his head should he do so. Damn it. If only we weren't inside a cramped nursery, I could run circles around him and cut him down easily. To say nothing of the fact I have to keep him as far from the Prince and Princess as possible. Here he has the advantage. Jaime forced himself to his feet and leveled his blade against Clegane as the monstrous mass of flesh and metal closed the distance between them.
Jaime ducked beneath another fist and spun around Cleganes back, slicing clean through the mail behind his right knee, feeling his blade bite the soft flesh underneath.
Gregor roared, practically shaking the room and inciting a renewed bout of wails from Prince Aegon, sending sharp lances of pain through Jaime's concussed mind. Jaime didn't have time to dwell on his headache as Clegane once again flung his massive fists around, Jaime narrowly dodging one before receiving the other to his stomach, the massive gauntleted fist lifting him from the ground and knocking the wind out of him even through his armor.
Jaime could swear he could hear several of his ribs crack and even his armour felt as though it had been dented inwards by the blow. Is this how I die? Like you Rhaegar? Our chests caved in by monsters among men? No. It's as I already assumed, Clegane will incapacitate me, quite painfully if need be, but he won't kill me. My father may be a fucking prick, but he's keeping me alive.
Jaime was unable to finish his thoughts as Clegane quickly followed with another blow to the side of his face that sent him slamming into the ground as Gregor made for his massive greatsword.
Then again, he is a mad dog without a single thought in his head beside rape and kill. So maybe I will disappoint my father one last time. He smiled at the thought as he looked up through his blackened eye and rapidly swelling face to see the Mountain towering over him.
His mind went to Cersei and their nights together. They had entered the world together but he was glad they wouldn't be leaving together. He hoped she would be able to cope with his death, though he admitted to himself that he selfishly hoped she would never move on. He doubted she would, they were meant for eachother after all. His thoughts shifted to Tyrion then and he felt his heart sink slightly. His little brother didn't deserve how Cersei and their father treated him. He hoped his uncles would be able to make sure his little brother felt the love he deserved.
His ears were ringing but still he heard the heavy footfalls of Gregor approaching him and the wails of Prince Aegon. He looked up to see Gregor towering over him with greatsword in hand, ready to swing down and end Jaime's life. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the end.
Forgive me Rhaegar. I failed you.
His final moments were interrupted by a frenzied cry followed immediately by a pained roar not unlike that of a bear in its death throes. He looked up to see Elia Martell latched onto Clegane's back, a crazed look in her midnight black eyes as she still grasped her supper knife which was now lodged into the side of Clegane's massive neck.
The man staggered, tossing Elia off his back as though she were nothing but a wash rag. Jaime could only watch with clouded vision as the Princess slammed into the ground with a sickening crunch. For an instant Jaime feared the Princess had been killed by the impact, but he heard her take a shuddering breath and attempt to rise from the ground.
Jaime turned back to Clegane to see the man reaching to stem the flow of blood from his neck. While the wound did not appear to have punctured his artery and was unlikely to kill him quickly, Jaime doubted he would last long without a maester.
Jaime had no such intention of letting the monster live to see dawn. He braced himself and took a breath, pain exploding through his chest as the broken ribs made themselves known. Nonetheless, Jaime pushed himself to his knees and reached for his sword to brace himself to stand and finish Clegane.
"My thanks Princess but please get ba-" Jaime froze as he heard a choked whimper, looking up from his newly recovered sword to see that Clegane had already turned and grasped the Princess in his massive hands.
Jaime forced himself to his feet, ignoring the pain screaming across his body, and rushed the man with a battle cry to try and divert his attention. Clegane either didn't hear or paid Jaime no mind as he grabbed Elia's head, shoved his thumbs into her eye sockets, and began to squeeze.
Elia's agonized screams mixed with Aegon's wails as time seemed to move slower than Jaime thought possible. A few feet seemed leagues to him as he struggled to fight through what was doubtless a severe concussion and Gods knew how many broken bones to reach Clegane.
Every step felt as though his legs would buckle, every breath felt as though he had swallowed a thousand daggers, and his head felt as though it weighed more than the city itself.
Just as Jaime reached the Mountain to put his sword through the man's leg and shove his dirk into his neck he heard a sickening crunch as Elia fell silent.
With a cry Jaime thrust his sword into the exposed rear of Gregor's uninjured leg, cutting clean through the chain mail, severing the man's tendons and cleaving bone. The Mountain fell to a single knee, bellowing in pain as Elia's lifeless corpse slipped from his grasp and hit the floor with a dull thud.
Tears flowed from Jaimes swollen and blackened eyes as he drew his dirk and sunk it into Clegane's temple, stilling the monster of a man. After a vicious twist he withdrew his dirk to allow the Mountain to slump to the side.
His wounds forgotten, Jaime could only collapse to his knees and stare at Elia's crushed skull in shock. 'Promise me Jaime.'
I failed. I wasn't quick enough. I was so sure I could-
No. I was cocky and arrogant. I thought myself invincible. I charged in recklessly and now-
Jaime stared, desperate to go away inside as he had so many times before, but finding that in this moment he couldn't. With nothing but Prince Aegon's crying to fill the silence Jaime sat there for what felt like hours. The flaring pain in his lungs and his pounding migraine a muted whisper compared to the despair he felt in his heart.
Jaime's self loathing came to an end when a shrill shriek pierced his ears from the entrance to the nursery. Jaime's head snapped to the door and his heart stopped. There in the doorway was Princess Rhaenys holding her kitten.
The little girl stared at her mothers ruined corpse as tears began to stream down her face once again and Balerion dropped from her arms, the cat confused but staying rooted to Rhaenys' side. Jaime leapt to his feet and staggered as fast as he could in his concussed state to the doorway, pain flaring with every step, his strength failing him as he reached her.
Jaime collapsed to his knees before pulling Rhaenys towards him and turning her away from her mother's body in one swift movement.
"Don't look Princess. Don't look." He choked out the words, barely holding back his own tears at his failure. His failure to keep his promise to Rhaegar. His failure to keep his promise to the little girl in his arms.
He pulled away briefly to see that Rhaenys had stopped crying. A vacant expression now on her face and her black eyes devoid of any light or warmth. His heart broke at the thought of what this would do to her. The little girl he used to carry on his shoulders and play dragons with.
Jaime steeled himself. He had failed Elia, but Rhaenys and Aegon yet lived. His failure was not complete. He had to be strong for her. For her and Aegon. Though the infant Prince would thankfully not remember this like she undoubtedly would. Jaime lifted her up and held her face to his chest as he made his way as quickly as he could to the crib and retrieved Prince Aegon. Awkwardly holding one in each arm he left the nursery before setting Rhaenys down in front of him and kneeling before her, making sure to use his body to block her view of her dead mother.
She still held the same empty look as he gently touched her uninjured shoulder. "Princess. We have to leave the Red Keep okay?" He spoke to her in the gentlest voice he could muster.
Her glazed black eyes slowly met his before she winced slightly at his appearance. I can barely see out of my left eye and my right isn't much better. My nose is a ruin and I'm sure my mouth is covered in blood. I must be quite the sight.
Despite his appearance, Rhaenys recovered quickly. "But... but what about mother?" She managed to whimper.
Jaime struggled to answer immediately. Is she even old enough to understand death? Did Rhaegar or Elia ever explain the concept? She has never experienced the death of a family member before this fucking war. Will she even understand why I can't bring her mother's corpse with us?
He took a deep breath, ignoring the now familiar lances of pain it sent through his chest and responded, still gentle and comforting, but this time with a firm undertone as well. "Rhaenys. Your mother is gone. We have to run before more bad men come to hurt you and your brother."
Rhaenys winced again and glanced quickly beside them to the corpses of the Targaryen guard and Clegane's men before her eyes drifted to Aegon.
The babe had finally calmed some and was now looking at her with wide violet eyes, his wisps of silvery gold hair reminding Jaime of the king who would never be. No. This is the king who will be. I will make sure of it. On what little honour I have left to me. I will return to this city by your side someday Aegon, sixth of your name. My king.
Jaime turned to regard Rhaenys only to see that her expression had changed to one of intense drive and focus. With a strength that should never have been required of a girl her age, Rhaenys straightened and nodded her head before reaching for Aegon.
"I'll hold Egg so you can protect us from the bad men, Ser Jaime." She said with a determined look.
"Thank you Princess." Jaime replied sincerely. It filled him with sorrow but also immeasurable pride to see her so brave.
Though I don't know which of us will collapse from exhaustion sooner. With my injuries and her having to carry her brother, it is unlikely either of us will be able to get out of the city unaided. The grim thought lingered before he pushed it aside.
It doesn't matter. As long as I draw breath we are not lost. Determination swelled through him as he rose to his feet.
After everything that had happened, he would see them both out of the city and to Rhaella on Dragonstone. From there Jaime would rally the loyalists and decide on a next course of action.
With a nod to Rhaenys Jaime quickly recovered his sword and began making his way back to the stairs. As they left Elia's body behind them and began their trek to the Red Keep's courtyard and the burning city beyond it, Jaime clenched his fists around the hilt of his gilded sword to stop his hands from shaking.