Dany found them after days of marching. The battle at the Twins had been a huge success, even without the force of the dragons that they had known would give them victory. The men were buoyed by the success, though the absence of Dany had meant that the victory was not due to her, thereby not encouraging a love from the Northerners for anyone but Jon.
While Dany had been gone, fights had broken out between the Northerners and the Dothraki. Tensions had grown every time the Northerners placed the victory at Jon's feet and not Dany's. And Jon knew that the Dothraki were right: the victory was Dany's. Without her troops, they would never have won. In fact, they would not be there at all because they all would have died at Winterfell.
But that was too much for the pride of the Northerners. They saw this as their victory, a second chance after the Red Wedding, after Robb had tried once before. And Jon understood that too. The Northerners had been hurt more by the governance in King's Landing than the Unsullied or the Dothraki. The Northerners had lost most of their lords - and their king - in one night, after a war that had also cost them the Lord of Winterfell and one of his sons' ability to walk.
Even so, Jon was not allowing the fighting to go on. He had strict punishments for any infighting. When Dany's dragon reappeared in the sky, Jon was hanging two of the Northerners and a Dothraki for that crime - the two had tried to gang up on one Dothraki, as the Dothraki was taller and stronger and would need two men to take him out.
When she landed, coming off the dragon in a stately manner, despite the fact that she was wearing the same clothes she had been wearing when she left and her hair was not in its usual pristine condition, she greeted Jon with a smile and her people with a speech in Dothraki and then High Valyrian that Jon did not understand but her people cheered her for.
She made the speech in the Common Tongue last and Jon stood proudly by her side through it all, as she was truthful with her people, explaining her grief and fear for her remaining child. She was a good queen and Jon hated every person who could not see that. She was good and true and she cared for every person.
When she finished, the Northerners did cheer, more of a deep roar, ready for battle, than a cheer of joy and positivity at her return that the Dothraki and Unsullied gave her, but Jon was pleased by the improvement. In a few weeks, they would have won the war and the Northerners would return to the North and support Dany's rule because of her help in battle, but they did not need to love her as the others did because the North lived in a world unlike the South, with very few visits from the ruler and very little interference, which would likely suit Sansa as well.
Dany strode into their tent and, ducking, Jon followed her. She smiled at him, regret in her eyes that warmed Jon's heart. "I missed you," she said, closing the gap between them with a short kiss. Jon smiled.
"I missed you too. How are you?" he asked. Though he wished she had never left, if leaving helped her, he would encourage her to go again in the future. If time away healed her, then she had made the right choice.
"Sad," she said honestly, "but better. How was the battle?"
Jon told her every detail, explained the plan of action and the execution. And, when he was done with that, told her about the infighting and the plan for King's Landing. She agreed simply and then suggested they go to bed, the moon lighting the sky already. Jon was all too happy to agree, all too happy to be reunited with his wife and his queen.
XXX
The Hound was in the inn that they were staying in. Arya had never been one to indulge in drinking. While she was in Braavos, she had learned the importance of sharp reflexes, had seen the dangers of alcohol in battle. She had never particularly enjoyed the taste of either wine or ale, so it was no hardship to sit beneath the stars with Gendry the night before battle, instead of drinking her sorrows away with the Hound.
She had few sorrows to wish away, anyhow. Her list was almost complete, so she would have no regrets once Cersei was dead. Her sister was happy and married safely in the kingdom that she loved and her brother was married to a woman who he loved. Bran was as happy as he could be and now even she was going to be married, once her list was finished.
Any sorrow she had once had was gone, replaced with a twinge when she thought about her childhood. But, now, having spent time with her family that remained, she could see the happy times that they had lived together in Winterfell, could recall their arguments and joys with nostalgia instead of bitter regret. She missed her parents and lamented the early death of her brother, so young, but she could move past that now. She would have no more lists, no more death at her hands.
She would have travel and joy and a partnership with a man whom she could be proud of. And she was proud of Gendry. He was smart; he had grown from his humble beginnings. Many would have become bitter at learning they were a king's bastard yet had been denied food for most of their life, but Gendry had grown from it, had taken the skills he had learned and offered them to where he thought they were most needed, at Winterfell, where he had turned the course of a battle with his weapons.
Though Jaime Lannister was lauded as the man to have changed the events of the battle, along with Arya herself, Arya believed that Gendry was just as worthy of praise, just as influential in terms of their success.
"Gendry," Arya said sharply, jolting him out of a star-gazing stupor. He had teased her about the romance of watching the stars together, which Arya had not considered. She simply enjoyed being in open air. But if he wanted to see it as romance, he could do so. Gendry raised his eyebrows for her to speak. "If I die-"
"-Arya, no-"
She ignored him. "- I want you to find somebody else. I don't want you to wallow or swear revenge, like your father did. I want you to find somebody else and travel the world with them and be happy."
Gendry only rolled his eyes. "You're not going to die."
Arya scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't know that."
"I have a deal with the Seven, and with your silly old gods, that you are not allowed to die before you become my wife and as that is not going to happen until you kill Cersei, we've not a problem, have we?"
Arya couldn't deny him a smile at that absurd sentiment. She appreciated his faith in her and even appreciated his prayers, but it did seem rather like tempting fate. "And, if I die the moment we are wed?" Arya asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
Gendry shrugged. "I'll be a rich man for all my days as your widower."
Arya shoved him and he fell onto his back, laughing uproariously. Arya grinned and leaned down to peck him on the lips. A more serious man would have hated her for even bringing up such an idea. The man she had chosen joked of her death with an ease that showed his utter trust in her ability. And she loved him for it.
Gendry propped himself up on his elbows again and surveyed her. "If I die," he started and Arya did not interrupt him. Unlike Gendry, she had no deals with the gods to protect his life. She had Needle and, if Needle could not do the job, then no gods could. "I want you to refuse to marry anybody, unless you find someone who is willing to let you be yourself. If Jon, or Sansa, ask you to marry someone, you say no unless they are willing to let you be you, even if the whole of Westeros is at stake."
Arya smiled and nodded and he pursed his lips, asking for a kiss that Arya provided. "I promise."
"Good, because, if I have to watch you get fucked by a man who doesn't love you, I'll come back to life just to kill him."
Arya laughed. "Maybe it would be worth it then." Gendry grinned at her and kissed her again, lazily as though they had all the time in the world, as though they weren't waiting until just before dawn to sneak into the most dangerous city in Westeros.
XXX
Dany's hands shook as she watched her men march into battle. Though she would be joining them, she would be in the skies, far from where they would be fighting - and dying. The thought made her stomach clench. She closed her eyes for the moment, concentrated on her breathing rather than the attack.
Drogon took her further and further into the air. When she opened her eyes, her troops were like ants, too far away to even make out Jon among them. Dany wished that Jon were in the skies with her as he had been during the Battle of Winterfell. Alone, she felt nervous and as though she was going to make a mistake. Jon steadied her. Since she had known him, his presence had been steady, reassuring. Far away at this crucial moment of her life, Dany wanted him more than ever.
She watched the horde of ants below stop and breathed in. She knew what to do now, knew that the Golden Company, that glint of sunlight just inside the city walls, would see the army, would expect a dual attack, from the skies and from the battering ram that they had brought in case there was nobody to open the gates once the Golden Company was dead.
Drogon swooped at Dany's command. Her army grew closer and she could see the differences in them, between the armies though not individuals. She wanted to see Jon's face. But she couldn't.
Instead, she got closer, until the city looked less like a figurine and more like a place where people lived. Her stomach burned at the thought that her people might get caught up in this. She prayed that they knew what was happening, that they stayed inside their homes while she dispensed with these sellswords.
She wondered if she would be able to smell their fear when she got close. Her brother had always told her that he could smell her fear when he threatened her, though Dany was not sure that fear had a smell. Her brother had been cruel. Dany was not going to ever be cruel.
Hope soared in her, even as she commanded Drogon to fire on the gilded troops. She could hear their screams, though they were more like echoes from where she was. They bounced and fell, like balls in a game that Dany had played in the garden of that house with the red door in Braavos. The taste of lemon weighed heavily on her tongue. Perhaps she would plant a lemon tree outside of her window in the Red Keep, once she had rid it of the vermin.
XXX
Jaime and Brienne's troops arrived, not at all well-rested, but there and eager to fight. Before they could begin with their battle plan, the dragon that had been a ribbon in the skies landed before them, its rider swinging down. Passion flaring in her eyes, they saw a queen in victory.
"Lord Jaime, Lady Brienne," Queen Daenerys greeted. "You arrived in time. I am most glad. You will send your men in to take part in the defeat of Cersei?"
Jaime inclined his head and Brienne felt anxiety swell in her stomach. Perhaps it was the baby telling her that it was dangerous. Before Brienne could voice these concerns, Jaime was sharing his plan to ensure the safety of the civilians in the Red Keep with the queen, who agreed with it most righteously. Brienne swallowed.
Queen Daenerys asked them to leave immediately and finish the attack, before she strode away, to where her handmaiden stood waiting to speak with her. Brienne grasped Jaime's wrist. "I'm scared," she confessed, feeling tears swell behind her eyes. More than anything, more than the pain of her swollen feet and her back and the discomfort of most of her body due to the pregnancy, more than all of that, Brienne wanted to be by Jaime's side when he rode into King's Landing to face Cersei.
She'd been dreaming for weeks of what Cersei would do to Jaime, if she would kill him for the sake of dying together, if she would kill him for betraying her, if she would kill him for marrying someone else. "I know," Jaime murmured, brushing his thumb against the rough skin of the back of Brienne's hand.
"Take my sword," she begged, pulling Oathkeeper from her belt. It sat at her side rather than at her front now, though she refused to give up holding it. Who knew when an attacker was near? Jaime swallowed but this he easily agreed to. They swapped the similar looking swords. Brienne supposed that it was easier to go into battle with his wife's sword than his son's.
"I'll be back," Jaime promised, kissing her so lightly that Brienne forced his lips back down onto hers, to feel his warmth one last time before he rode away. He smirked as she pulled away. "You can do that some more this evening." Brienne couldn't laugh though and only met his eyes. "Stop worrying, wench. In a few month's time, I will be telling our babe how heroic and brave I was during the Battle of King's Landing."
Brienne smiled at the thought and nodded slightly. When he kissed her and rode off, Addam by his side and his men at his back, all Brienne could think was that she had not told him that she loved him.
XXX
Arya had never really considered that the Mountain was even bigger than the Hound. She had always assumed that he just seemed so huge because she had been so young. When they had approached King's Landing, using a passageway that Arya herself had used to escape King's Landing all those years ago, through the crypts, and had seen the Mountain, stood guard outside Cersei's bedchamber, where she was presumably hiding, Arya had found herself suddenly aware of why this task was so impossible.
Sandor was nervous and Arya hated that. She was not sure if she had ever seen him nervous before in her life, not truly nervous as he was now. She knew that he hated his brother, knew that he had been cruel and evil, but she had not anticipated the fear. Sharing a look with Gendry, Arya swore to herself - and to her father's gods - that she would help Sandor bring down this evil man, who had raped Elia of Dorne to death and smashed a baby's head against a wall. She would see this man gone from the world as though he too were on her list.
She drew an arrow from her quiver. Though she had hardly shot a bow in years, she had found at Winterfell that it was not something she could forget and, with little practice, was soon on track to be as good as she had been once, and quickly improved on that too. And arrows were always handy, especially when you had a relatively small sword. Close range and long range was available when you had arrows.
Arya found the Hound's narrowed eyes upon her and she only winked before darting across the corridor almost silently, a feat which neither Gendry nor the Hound would be able to undertake with the same success as a Faceless Man. She set her bow and aimed for the Mountain's neck, turning and widening her eyes meaningfully at her betrothed and her - friend.
The arrow hit the side of his neck. A second hit the front. He was too big, too strong, too slow. He pulled each and ignored the blood, turning his fury on the end of the corridor, where they waited. Another arrow hit him in the belly, a fourth in the cheek. The Hound charged.
Arya kept her flurry of arrows going, aiming for his face, his neck and his heart, distracting him from his younger and smaller brother's blows.
He was a monster, the Mountain. The arrows that Arya had hit him with would have killed any other man, ten times over, and, though Arya sensed he was weakening, he was still too strong to defeat. Gendry had not entered the fight yet and Arya worried that he would have to, just as her arrow hit the front of the Mountain's throat, shooting through the lump on the front of men's necks and making him jerk.
Arya grinned and shot another arrow at his head, but it wasn't needed. The Mountain's distracted efforts to breathe were enough for the Hound to gain the upper hand. Arrow still ready to shoot, Arya slinked back to where Gendry stood, hammer ready to finish the job if the Hound called for help, or if he died.
The Hound was smaller than the Mountain, so his speed was superior, his reactions faster and his movements less jerky. His great sword swiped once at his brother's stomach, cutting it open, and then a second time, at his neck, where he cut as far as Arya's arrow, about halfway. The Mountain yowled and swung his sword randomly, in rage, in fear perhaps. Arya wondered if Cersei's monster could feel fear.
She also wondered if Cersei could hear the defeat of her monster. She was surely inside the chambers that the Mountain was guarding. This was the obstacle that Arya needed to surpass to reach Cersei. Why was she not reacting? Why was she not fleeing? Arya had the sudden unpleasant thought that perhaps Cersei would end her own life. Arya would not give her the chance.
Another great swing of the Hound's sword took his brother's head from his body, landing on the ground with a mighty thump and crack that made the hairs on Arya's arms stand on end. The huge monstrous body fell with a louder sound, each one warning Cersei inside. Arya had no time to deal with the Hound's wide-eyed staring at his brother. She had to reach Cersei before someone else got the chance, or before she escaped, or before she killed herself. Cersei deserved to die a painful death, without control.
Bow slung over her shoulder, Arya pulled Needle from her waist, made eye contact with Gendry and then approached the door, fathoming at Cersei's arrogance at having only one guard, even if he were a monster. The door opened easily too, clearly unbarred. Doubt bubbled beneath Arya's armour. She pressed on. If Cersei were somewhere else, she would find her and kill her there too.
But Cersei was not somewhere else. And Arya had broken the oath that she had made to her sister not to underestimate Cersei. Because Cersei did not only have one guard. The Mountain was a preliminary protection.
The far greater one was the woman she held in front of her as a shield, a woman who most of the army would struggle to allow to die, even for the sake of the queen.
Brienne's blue eyes were wide as Arya met them and stopped her progress into the room.
XXX
They had taken her as she was making water. Fed up with the constant companion of one of the guards who Daenerys had kept with her handmaiden, Brienne had sneaked away to the surrounding woods, making water alone, in privacy, and she was about to return, thoughts of Jaime darting about in her mind, when she was taken.
Lead away from the camp, Brienne was confused by where they were taking her. There was a tunnel, beneath the city, leading to the castle, angering Brienne, who foresaw the nobles escaping the city and leaving the civilians to die.
But the nobles weren't fleeing. When Brienne dared to ask a question to the guards that had kidnapped her, she found herself backhanded and her question unanswered. She determined to stay silent. Her baby was the most important thing. She had to protect her baby. And that meant protecting herself.
They had brought her up through the Red Keep, which was almost peaceful in its silence, as though war was not waging outside its walls, what remained of the Golden Company and the soldiers who were loyal to Cersei and Euron fighting the mighty forces of Daenerys Targaryen. There could be only one winner.
And, yet, Brienne was put before Cersei, who remained in her chambers despite it all, despite the tunnel that could have been her saving grace. And Cersei smiled.
The guards left. Cersei told them they could leave the city if they wished, provided that the Mountain remained a guard outside of Cersei's door. The door closed and Brienne watched it happen. Her sword, Joffrey's sword, Jaime's sword, was in Cersei's hands, on her lap. She stared at it with a glimmer in her eye that Brienne did not understand.
"Sit," Cersei commanded, not looking up. Brienne swallowed and did. She knew the danger she was in here and she had to think of the baby. "This is my son's sword."
The statement was not a question, but Brienne answered anyway, "yes."
"Why do you have it?"
"Jaime gave it to me."
Cersei looked up at that, though Brienne knew that she was not surprised. There was nothing to be surprised by. Cersei knew the answer when she asked the question.
"Jaime, your husband," Cersei said. Her eyes were just the same as Jaime's. It was quite disconcerting.
"Jaime, my husband," Brienne confirmed.
"My brother, Jaime, your husband," she sighed and looked back down at the sword. Brienne squirmed in her chair, discomforted by Cersei's silence. "What do you think of him?" Brienne blinked and Cersei looked up, a peal of laughter escaping from her, bitter rather than joyful. "We are the only two people who have ever fucked Jaime. What do you think?"
Brienne swallowed the nausea that rose in her throat, swallowed the hatred that she felt for this woman.
"Come along, Lady Brienne, surely Jaime has not married a prude. Certainly not if you are already so far with child."
She truly did sound bitter when she said that and Brienne wondered if she was thinking of her own children, Jaime's first children. Brienne's heart clenched at the thought that she did not know where Jaime was, did not know if he was safe.
"I suppose you waited until your wedding night to fuck him, kept him waiting," Cersei said with a bored tone. Brienne wanted to protect her baby, to do what Cersei said, but she could not discuss Jaime with his sister, particularly not what they did together in bed. Jaime was hers and she wanted to protect him too, even if it was only from the evil thoughts of his sister. "And, if you did, he must have got you pregnant straight away. You must be very fertile. He only managed to impregnate me three times in all our lives."
Brienne pursed her lips. She did not speak, though she considered that that probably had more to do with Cersei's body than Jaime's. "Why am I here?" she said eventually.
Cersei cackled like a witch from a bedtime story. The sound made Brienne want to curl her arms around her stomach and keep it away from her baby's small ears. "You are my goodsister, Lady Brienne. Perhaps I simply wanted to know you." Brienne only met the queen's eyes. "Or perhaps I wanted to see what Jaime had sullied himself with after me."
"I love Jaime," Brienne said honestly.
"And you believe I do not?" Cersei said, the bored tones replaced by utter rage. "You believe I do not love the man with whom I spent my entire life?"
"I believe you love him."
"But not as much as you, I suppose?"
"Not as much as me."
"Because you would do anything for him," Cersei mocked, "would die for him, would kill for him."
Brienne shook her head. "Because I want him to be happy even it means I am not."
Cersei's face shrivelled, whether at Brienne's words or at the thought of her brother being happy Brienne did not know. The song of swords outside the door interrupted them and Cersei laughed, standing. She was taller than Brienne expected, though not quite as tall as Jaime and certainly not as tall as Brienne.
"Stand now, goodsister, I have need of you."
So, when Arya stormed into Cersei's chambers, Brienne was standing before Cersei, herself and her baby her human shield. Brienne watched the fire die in Arya's eyes.
XXX
"Gendry," Arya said, swallowing. "You and Sandor should go and find Euron."
"I won't leave you," Gendry muttered. Arya shook her head slowly and did not say anything until both Sandor and Gendry had left. Euron had to die and Arya had to protect Brienne.
Arya wished that Sansa were there to see Cersei die. Because she would die. They would move the sword that Cersei had at Brienne's throat and Cersei would die and Brienne would live, Brienne's baby would live.
"Your brother will hate you if you do anything with that knife," Arya said plainly. She put Needle back at her waist, not willing to risk Brienne. Brienne's eyes were full of fear, a new look on her to Arya's eyes. But, Arya supposed, her baby was at risk as well as her.
Arya wondered where Jaime was, if he was on his way here. Perhaps he would be able to talk Cersei down without costing Brienne her life. On the other hand, perhaps he would just panic and cause her death.
"My brother hates me anyway," Cersei said and the knife dancing at Brienne's throat. Arya's heart lurched into her throat. "How is your sister? I hear she is my goodsister once again."
Arya glared at Cersei but responded, "she is happy." Cersei scowled and she moved the knife again. Brienne inhaled sharply enough that Arya heard it. "Stop," Arya said softly but whatever was going to come out of her mouth next was interrupted by a crash as the door opened behind them.
She did not know the man who entered, but he was in Lannister armour so must have arrived with Jaime and Brienne. He was tall, dark-haired and quite attractive for his age. His brown eyes widened at the sight of Brienne, his lips parted. "Brienne," he breathed.
Arya turned to Brienne, who also showed signs of recognising this man. Cersei smirked.
"Addam Marbrand, I heard you were back with my brother. I suppose you were positively gleeful that he had married someone else." Arya did know the name Addam Marbrand, the leader of the rest of Jaime's troops. It made sense that Cersei knew him.
"What are you doing, Cersei?" Addam said and Arya could almost hear the pleading in his voice, the lack of understanding at what she was doing. "Jaime would never forgive you."
Arya watched Brienne's eyes drop and narrowed her own. Brienne knew something that Arya did not, perhaps that this pleading on Jaime's behalf was useless, that Cersei did not love her brother enough to drop the knife. Arya wished that Brienne were not pregnant and could fight herself out of this.
Addam turned to a soldier by the door and whispered something. Arya's stomach stirred with the thought of what he had whispered. She was not sure that this was going to work out as well as they had hoped.
XXX
When Jaime saw his sister holding a knife to his wife's throat, he was fairly certain that he was dreaming. This was a dream he had had before, had woken up from it panting and scared. Cersei threatening Brienne was a nightmare come to life and Jaime could not find a way out of it.
Jaime stepped into the room and Cersei only smirked, her eyes alight with beautiful anger. "Cersei," Jaime said warningly, though his eyes were on Brienne's, wide and blue. He had not told her that he loved her, had not said those words. What if this were the end? Was the thought of Brienne dying without knowing that Jaime loved her scary enough that it was worth the wrath that Cersei would bring if she heard the words?
Jaime shifted to the left and Cersei shifted to the right so that they remained eye-to-eye, in a straight line, equal power. "Cersei, Brienne is carrying my child. You know what it is to lose a baby. Do not make me do that again."
It was Jaime's only ploy, to appeal to Cersei's sense of being a mother, the only thing that his brain could conjure. It was received by a scoff.
"Our children's deaths did not affect you. If you had loved them, you would have protected them. I lost three children while you and Tyrion get new families, new chances."
Jaime could hear the grief still in her voice, the bitterness at what life had given her, despite all she had earned for herself. Power and a throne for the price of three dead children. Jaime wondered whether she thought it was worth it. He hoped she didn't but thought she might.
"Lady Lannister," Cersei sang, drawing the knife across Brienne's throat.
"Jaime," Brienne blurted and Jaime's eyes filled with tears at the sound of her fear. Her hands were clutching her stomach, their baby that lay there, waiting to come into the world and be their pride and joy. Jaime had to close his eyes to clear the tears. He swallowed.
"Lady Lannister," Cersei said again, tightening the knife. "Brienne of Tarth and Sansa Stark. Even if I kill your ugly wife, Sansa remains." Jaime had forgotten quite how much Cersei hated Sansa. "One of them will be Lady Lannister, while I remain a Baratheon."
"That was your choice, Cersei," Jaime said carefully, edging to the left again, so that Cersei's back was to the edge of the room, to the bed where they had lain together in the past. Jaime was close to Arya. Cersei was closer to Addam. Jaime swallowed.
"It was not my choice," Cersei snapped. "Father forced me to be a Baratheon, forced me to be queen, forced me to do everything for the good of our family." Cersei laughed and moved the dagger from Brienne's neck to her stomach, to their baby. Jaime's breath rasped out of him. "Well, this will be for the good of our family too."
But, before Cersei could angle the knife into Brienne's stomach, into their baby, Brienne wrenched the dagger from her hand, easier at this angle, and span around, holding the dagger tight to Cersei's neck. Jaime watched the delight turn to fear in his sister's eyes, felt his own fear turn to blinding relief.
"Tell me to stop, Jaime," Brienne cried, reminding Jaime that it was not over and Cersei still had to die. She had to die. Jaime had known it for months, maybe for years. She could not be allowed to live. Jaime made eyes with Addam, in the perfect position as Jaime had hoped.
"Stop," Jaime breathed, reaching out for Brienne and pulling her away, just as Addam buried his sword in Cersei's back.
XXX
