The Kingslayer

Damn, there are too many of them, Jaime Lannister thought as he watched from the protection of the battlements of the Mud Gate as Renly Baratheon's massive army spread out on the south bank of the Blackwater. Even from afar, Jaime knew that this was the greatest army he had ever seen. Not even when Prince Rhaegar left the city for the Trident had he been able to assemble an army of such magnitude. After hearing the news from the Reach, a part of him had hoped that his army would have been worn down as it advanced toward King's Landing or that even part of it would turn back and head south, but that did not seem to be the case.

The wind ruffled his scarlet cloak at his back as the rising sun illuminated his visor, which hid his face from his own allies. Merciful gods, he was baking inside that armor.

Except for a select few, like his fellow Kingsguard flanking him, no one knew that King Joffrey was indeed dozens of leagues away from the city, far from the fighting. All the soldiers saw was a gleaming suit of golden armor adorned with rubies that ended in a helmet with a horned crown on it. If any of them had known Joffrey, they would know for a fact that the man wearing the armor was far too tall to be a thirteen-year-old boy, however kingly he might be. Luckily for him, no one was questioning his identity at the moment, as most of the gold cloaks and Lannister guards were more concerned with what they saw on the other side of the walls than what was in front of them.

Jaime turned his gaze back to the overwhelming army swarming south of the Blackwater. The armor of the southern knights glittered in the dawn, and the hundreds of different, colorful banners of the various lords marching with Renly fluttered in the wind in a way that reminded Jaime more of participants in a crowded tournament than an army. Somewhere in the crowd was Renly Baratheon, the youngest of Robert's brothers and the spitting image of him as a young man. For years he had wanted to run his sword through Robert's chest for the sorrow and bitterness he had caused Cersei since they were married, but that accursed disease had taken him before he could. If the gods gave him strength, perhaps that day he might get a little satisfaction. The only thing standing in his way were tens of thousands of men armed to the teeth.

Renly called himself king, but his reign could not have been more fragile. When Rhaegar marched to the Trident, he did so knowing that he had sons and brothers who would inherit his titles upon his death. Robert, Ned Stark, Jon Arryn... They all had someone who would succeed him should they die when they took up arms against the Targaryens. Even Stannis had two daughters safe at Sunspear. But Renly had no one. If he died, his cause died with him. And tens of thousands of men would be left kingless. Men who would have to join the cause of one of the contenders still fighting for the throne. And Jaime doubted any of them would be eager to join Stannis and the Dornish after recent events.

Cersei, Tyrion... I will give you victory. Even if it costs me my life, I will kill Robert's brother. I swear it.

His plan to achieve that, however, was still in process. And besides, at that instant, he had far more pressing problems to worry about.

"Your grace. The commander of the City Watch is here as you requested," one of his guards informed him.

Janos Slynt who more than a man looked like a toad-faced wine barrel. The big man wore thick plate armor that was clearly too small for his massive build and a cloak of golden thread too small. Beyond the short sword he wore sheathed in his belt, Slynt was unarmed.

Good, Jaime thought. This will make it so much easier.

"I am at your service, your grace. What do you need from me?" said Slynt with a slight bow and a goofy grin on his face. Jaime smiled behind his helmet as well, expectant of what was about to happen.

"Tell me, Slynt," Jaime said in a conciliatory voice. "Who would command the Gold Cloaks in your absence?"

"In my absence?" asked Slynt confused. "I do not understand what you wish to tell me, your grace."

"Yes, if something were to happen to you during the battle, who would be in command of the city guard?"

"Allar Deem, majesty. He is my second in command, my right hand. I have no doubt that if anything should happen to me, he would know how to effectively lead our men in the defense of the city. But fear not, your majesty, I am a great warrior, I will not fall in this battle against that rabble."

"True, it would be inexplicable for someone of your courage and prowess to be defeated by that scum. Tregar."

The captain of his guard did not take a second to pierce Janos Slynt's knee with his spear. The sharp steel point pierced his kneecap and came out completely bloody on the front side of his knee as the chubby man fell to the ground writhing in pain and held his hands to the wound trying to staunch the bleeding.

"Do you take me for stupid, Slynt?" shouted Jaime without even trying to disguise his voice. "Did you think I wouldn't find out about your plans?"

"Your grace, I..." groaned Janos as he brought his right hand to his belt. Before he could reach for his sword, however, Jaime stomped his hand with his boot against the cold rock repeatedly until he heard every bone in his fingers break.

The commander kept screaming in pain, so Jaime kicked him in the mouth to shut him up and ordered two of his guards to hold his arms in case he tried to escape somehow.

"All these years, I've always known you were nothing but a treacherous rat, Slynt. But even a rat knows not to bite the hand that feeds it. While it is true that I was wrong about one thing, I always believed your price was higher. Keeping your current position and your life...do you sell yourself that low Slynt? Or are you just desperate?" asked Jaime as he lifted his visor to look Janos Slynt face to face.

"Ser Jaime...what are you doing here...where is the king? I demand to speak to his Majesty!" he said as he spat blood and one of his molars. His face was torn between anger and fear.

"You demand nothing here, traitor!" retorted Jaime backhanding him with his hand sheathed in a golden gauntlet. The blow caused Slynt to lose another set of teeth.

"And who are you to judge me, Kingslayer?" said Janos regaining some courage. "The city is lost, everyone knows it. You let your father's army in when the Mad King lost the war, and you kept your post when Robert sat on the throne. I have only followed in your footsteps. I have friends, Kingslayer, important friends, yes... The king won't let anything happen to me."

At times, Jaime wondered if it was all his fault. If all this whirlwind of betrayals, assassinations and conspiracies were due to what he had done years ago. If it was his greatest deed that had caused all this. Luckily, whenever those thoughts invaded his mind, someone like Janos Slynt would pop up to help him remember that he was just another filthy rat, another one of the bunch that populated this dunghill of a kingdom. Jaime was far from the worst, but the bigger you are, the more stares you attract.

"A pity you weren't more careful, Slynt. What did you say your man's name was, Deen? Our scouts were lucky enough to come across him trying to cross the Blackwater on one of the few bridges left standing, upstream. When they searched his body, they found a letter. I'm sure you know what I mean." Janos Slynt's face turned milky white.

"Please, my lord. Have mercy, please," Janos Slynt pleaded. His fleshy jowls quivered with every word that came out of his mouth. "I only wanted to protect my children. I was only afraid, my lord. I just wanted to do my duty as a father and as a husband. Surely you understand me, don't you?"

Understand? He had never acted as a father to any of his children, not even as an uncle as Renly did. And being a member of the Kingsguard, it's not like he could understand what it meant to be married. Of course, his bond with Cersei was far greater than a few words in front of any septon could mean He would do anything for her, no matter the consequences, but...

"Yes, I'm sure you were only doing your duty to the city. Anyway, let's get this over with as soon as possible, lest your dear Renly should think of interrupting us at such an inopportune moment" Jaime said, drawing his sword.

"No please, I will do as you ask. I swear it. I swear on my..." Janos Slynt could not finish what he was about to say. His half bald, toad-like head rolled off the battlements a few feet to a stop and Jaime felt his doubts and fears dissipate.

My sword and an enemy to wield it against... That's all I need.

"Hide the body where no one can find it, and if anyone asks for Slynt tell them he's in the Red Keep on an important mission" Jaime said lowering his visor again. "Tregar, pick ten of your best men. You remain in command of the gold cloaks during the battle. If anyone disputes your orders, tell them they come directly from the king and if they continue to insist, execute the most boastful ones. Then they will obey you without complaint."

"So shall it be done, my lord," said Tregar, obediently. He bowed slightly and left for the King's Gate, where James had ordered most of the city's guard to be concentrated.

Given the size of Renly's army, Jaime did not expect him to concentrate his attack on just one of the gates of the outer city wall, but it was clear that both the King's Gate and the Mud Gate would be the first to be reached by his army. And to his misfortune, they were in the worst condition. The large wooden doors of the Mud Gate were in deplorable condition due to their proximity to the Blackwater. The wood was decayed and moldy and the hinges rusted. It would only take a few blows from a battering ram to bring them crashing down.

The King's Gate wasn't in much better shape. His father's armies and later Ned Stark's armies had come through there years before, looting everything in their path. As far as he knew, the original gate had been ripped out and transported to Casterly Rock, where her father ordered its extraordinary decoration melted down. An unnecessary display of power that could now cost them dearly. The new gate was nothing more than a large oak gate with light iron and steel reinforcements, more typical of a small castle than of the walls of the largest city in the kingdom. It would not hold for long.

The sound of war drums brought him out of his thoughts. Across the river, Renly's army was on the move again. At the sight of it, Jaime allowed himself a small smile. Apparently, Renly had underestimated one terribly important factor.

The recent autumn rains had caused the flow of the Blackwater to increase considerably in recent weeks. Even in summer, crossing the mouth of the river by any means short of a boat or ship would have been very difficult, but now it was simply impossible. And unlike them and Stannis, Renly had no fleet that would allow him to cross the river with ease. True, there were safer areas through which his army could pass on foot, but diverting his army could take several days, and apparently Robert's brother would not wait that long. His men were carrying rafts of varying sizes that would surely have been made from the trees of the Royal Forest behind them. Even from a distance, they looked like misshapen and irregular constructions, but save for a few, all held afloat as they were tossed into the water and Renly's soldiers began to fill them.

"Tell Tregar that the enemy is preparing to cross the river. It will still take several minutes for them to arrive, but I want him to have a raid party ready for when they reach this bank. Tell him that I will lead the soldiers. That will encourage the troops," Jaime ordered one of his guards, who on this occasion were also to act as messengers. He turned to another. "Tell Sir Arneld to move one of the trebuchets a few degrees to the west, in case Renly tries to cross from higher up, and to start firing at the barges as soon as they start moving." It would be like trying to kill flies with stones, but maybe an odd stone would hit the target and that would demoralize the rest.

On the other side of the river, Renly's barges were getting on the move and were gradually covering the entire southern part of the river, like a great shoal of fish coming towards them. At the moment, there were a few barges that had already reached almost halfway down the river, but they were few and far between. The main problem would be the main force, hundreds of barges that advanced slowly but inexorably. Rocks fell on them and caused huge jolts in the water, but as expected few hit their targets and the advance of Renly's troops did not stop.

Jaime gave a sigh and hurried down the stairs, not even waiting for Balon Swann and Arys Oakheart, who had remained in the city with him. Downstairs, Lancel was waiting for them below with his horses saddled. His cousin had decided to stay in the city because he wanted to be a worthy son of his father, or so he said. It seemed stupid and foolish to Jaime, and he didn't think Lancel was going to get anything but a stupid and meaningless death, but he didn't care too much either. If his stupid cousin wanted to kill himself so young, who was he to stop him?

He took the reins of his horse and rode into the square that stretched out behind the Mud Gate, where rows of gold cloaks and Lannister guardsmen were mounted on horseback. They were more than enough to fend off the first waves of the Baratheon pretender.

"Form up!" he shouted as he moved to the head of the column. His brothers of the Kingsguard flanked him while Lancel, somewhat hesitantly, fell in behind him. He's afraid, Jaime thought. The damned coward is sure pissing himself.

"Sir Arys, you shall bear my banner, Lancel, my shield," Jaime commanded. His cousin held out a rather stout oaken shield, with the Baratheon and Lannister crest engraved on it. Jaime strapped it tightly to his forearm and unsheathed his sword. "Open the gate, we're going to send my little flower of an uncle back to Highgarden!"

The men cheered for him and Jaime set off at a trot. The great gates opened, revealing in the distance the first men beginning to arrive in their barges.

"Wedge formation!" he ordered as his men came through the gate. They arranged themselves in spearhead formation, with him in front. Beside him, Joffrey's banner fluttered on the pole of Sir Arys' pike. Jaime spurred his horse and charged Renly's men.

They were soon slain. Jaime's riders fell upon them so quickly that they had practically no time to throw down their oars and wield their weapons to defend themselves. The feel of his sword piercing the throats of his enemies made him feel alive once more, and as the barges reached the shore, his men won victory after victory. However, the barges kept arriving and, seeing what was happening on the shore, they preferred to wait for more of their comrades to come in larger groups rather than disembark in haste. Each time they undertook a new charge, Jaime noticed how more and more of his men fell before the spears and swords of the Reachmen. He drew his bloody sword from the chest of a man who wore on his doublet a coat of arms with two red and white griffins facing each other. This is getting worse and worse, Jaime thought. We won't hold out much longer.

"Sound the retreat! We're going back to the city!" shouted Jaime amidst the din of battle. "Retreat! Retreat!"

His men were back on the march back to the city before the enemy soldiers inflicted heavier losses on them. His men raised cries of "Baratheon!" and "Joffrey!". Jaime had to make real efforts to stifle a laugh. When the last of his men had returned inside the city walls, Jaime ordered the Mud Gate closed and barricaded with whatever they had at hand.

"Form a barricade along the Fishmongers' Square and another in the River Row" he ordered Lancel, who stood beside him trembling, his helmet and breastplate completely bloodied. His shield had several cuts and was just short of bursting into a thousand pieces. Jaime grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a shake. "Hold out as long as you can, and if you are outmatched retreat to the Red Keep - quickly!" Lancel snapped out of his stupor and rushed off to give orders. At least he'll be safer there. If you're watching me, uncle, I hope you'll thank me for how well I've taken care of your son when we meet again.

"Attention!" cried Jaime. "Let every man who can ride a horse and wield a spear be ready to leave in five minutes. We are going to the King's Gate." The men looked at him with confused faces, but obeyed his orders and as they rode to the King's Gate, Jaime heard several say that it should be the other way around, that the attack would be on them and that it should be the rest of the gold cloaks that should come here at once.

As soon as they arrived, Jaime hurried up to the battlements to check the situation. Aside from the occasional sporadic exchange of arrows between the lookouts and some of Renly's archers who had just landed, the situation on that part of the wall was relatively calm. The enemy troops had barely moved from the riverbank and did not seem to have any intention of assaulting the walls, at least for the time being. The situation at the Mud Gate, however, seemed to have worsened markedly since he had left. Through a Myrish magnifier, Jaime watched as Renly's men prepared a makeshift battering ram with some of the rafts that had remained on the shore rather than return across the river for more men. For the moment they dared not attempt to storm the gate surely for fear that the defenders would again lead a charge against them. Fear was keeping them at bay, but it would not be long before it would fade away.

As the minutes passed, the north bank was filling up with more and more of Renly's men to such an extent that Jaime estimated that several thousand men were already under his ramparts. And yet tens of thousands more men awaited them on the other side of the river.

"Your grace, your grace," a messenger called insistently to him. "Your grace, they are attacking the Mud Gate. They are carrying a large battering ram and have already reached the gate. They are also beginning to bring ladders to storm the walls, your grace. Ser Lancel calls for reinforcements or the gate will fall in a matter of minutes."

"Tell Lancel to hold out as long as he can with the men he has, and to employ the trebuchets if deem necessary, but convey to him that I will not send him any additional reinforcements. I need them here with me," replied Jaime coldly.

"But your grace, your men will not hold out much longer" the messenger insisted.

"Are you questioning my orders?"

The young messenger paled and marched back to the Mud Gate without further protest. To tell the truth, impatience was killing him. If he were in different circumstances, he would have marched without hesitation to engage the enemy, but such a strategy would not win him a battle like this in the face of such a disparity of numbers. Sooner or later, Renly's men would completely overwhelm them no matter how hard they tried to resist.

He scanned the southern shore again and then saw him clearly. He was there, in gleaming green armor and a helmet with golden staghorns. It was Renly, Jaime had no doubt about that. If there was one thing he knew about Robert's little brother, it was that humility and sobriety were not exactly his best qualities. He was boarding a large barge with many of his men and even a couple of horses. The barge was located as far as possible from the range of the Mud Gate's trebuchets so that the king would not be in danger, and a large number of boats loaded with soldiers were escorting him. He wanted to enter the city commanding his men, just as his late brother Robert did when he took a fortress. That would be his undoing.

"Ring the bells," Jaime ordered one of his men. "All of them, I want the sound to be heard from across the shore."

And especially from the bay. That was the goal. Jaime still had one last trick to play, the trick that could be decisive if he played it at the right moment, and that moment was now. A few minutes passed and little by little, all the bells in the city began to ring. Their sound was deafening, so much so that Jaime had to make a real effort to hear what was going on around him. He didn't care, all his concentration was devoted to watching Renly's movements and the mouth of the river.

Come on... come on... where are you? Damn it!

At last, they appeared. At first it was nothing more than a few small dots in the distance, but soon they grew bigger and bigger as they got closer. Jaime's last hope: the Royal Fleet, or what was left of it.

The ships Stannis had left in King's Landing did not make up even a third of the total Royal Fleet, but they still constituted a powerful force. Cersei had scorned it, saying that a few dozen flimsy ships could do nothing when Renly attacked the city, and technically, she was right. If only Robert's brother had decided to follow Blackwater upstream until he found a point where he could cross the river with his army, his fleet would have been nothing more than a collection of rather expensive baubles that would have served only to flee to Dragonstone to await his inevitable fate. But Renly was in a great hurry to be king, and that had made him stupid and predictable.

Jaime had appointed his uncle Lord Stafford as admiral of his little fleet, or his Uncle Fool, as he and Tyrion used to call him. Truth be told, Jaime's confidence regarding his uncle's military capabilities was practically nil, but he knew he was smart enough to follow to the letter the orders he had given him. Moreover, his second-in-command, his son Ser Daven, was the one person Jaime really trusted. Unlike his father, Daven was not completely inept and the years he had served at Dragonstone had made him into a quite capable naval commander, capable enough to take command of the fleet in case his father ever thought of doing something stupid.

As they crossed the mouth of the river, their galleys lined up in ten columns of about ten ships each, ready to charge Renly's boats. Jaime watched as the ships lowered their sails and drew their oars to build up the momentum needed to get up the river. In the center, King Robert's Hammer, one of the largest galleys in the entire royal fleet, looked imposing with its three hundred oars and a deck full of scorpions ready to shoot at the defenseless boats. Amidst the clanging of the bells, Jaime could not hear Renly's men screaming, but he could see their despair as the huge galleys split the small boats into dozens of pieces of wood while the steel-dulled men were dragged deep into the river.

Panic spread from one side of the river to the other. Everywhere, rafts were trying to paddle in a hurry to try to reach one of the two banks as soon as possible, either towards the city or by turning around and paddling in the direction from which they had just come. The braver ones climbed up to try to tackle the huge ships looming over them in a desperate attempt to try to board them, but almost all of them failed miserably. As he had planned, Renly's boat was already too far ahead to try to turn back, so his rowers focused on trying to get Renly to the knights crowding under the Mud Gate as quickly as possible.

A large rock hurled from across the river struck the deck of one of the ships, the Lady Lyanna it seemed. The impact was such that an infinite number of splinters flew through the air as water began to fill the deck. However, this did not affect the course of the rest of the galleys, which continued their course up the river.

"My lord! My lord!" a messenger called out to him. It was not the same one who had come before, and this one had his chain mail covered with blood splatters. "The Mud Gate has fallen, your grace. Renly's men have overcome our defenses and are heading this way. Ser Lancel has retreated to the Red Keep, but he has only a few dozen men, the rest have died or changed sides. You must withdraw immediately your grace, before they arrive. The city is lost."

"No," said Jaime impassively. "As long as I am alive, the battle is not over." The messenger looked at him wide-eyed, not understanding anything that was happening. The poor man thinks I've gone crazy, and the worst part is that he might be right.

"Attention!" bellowed Jaime, turning to where the last Lannister and Gold Cloak soldiers defending the city stood. "The enemy has entered the city. Right now, the only thing standing between them and your families is you. You are all part of the City Watch, it is time for you to show what you are made of. Or are you going to allow Renly to sack this city, rape your women and kill your children with impunity?"

"No!" shouted thousands of voices in front of him. "Joffrey! Joffrey! King's Landing!" From the holes in his visor, Jaime could see their faces filled with excitement, but also nervousness and fear. He just hoped his men could hold their nerve a little longer. He would take care of the rest.

He descended the stairs of the ramparts quickly and got back on his horse. Ser Balon and Ser Arys followed suit, as did the rest of his men. Those who could not find a free horse to mount, climbed on to that of one of their companions. All of them, without exception, were prepared and ready for what would possibly be their last battle. If he had to die today, Jaime could not be prouder of the men he had fought with that day.

"Open the gate!" ordered Jaime.

"The gate?" asked Ser Balon in confusion. "Ser-Your grace, are we not headed to defend the Mud Gate?"

"No," said Jaime. "We're going to win this war." He dug his heels into his horse and set off.

His small army advanced compact and united following the outline of the walls. Joffrey's banner flew atop some of the pikes, though most bore only the golden lion on a red field of the Lannisters. As they drew nearer, Renly's men became aware of their presence and adopted a crescent formation with spears in front, preparing to resist the onslaught.

Jaime bit spurs and his horse spurred forward. Behind him, the rest of the riders galloped toward the enemy, but Jaime had already moved afar from them. He turned his head slightly to see Ser Arys and Ser Balon galloping close behind him, but they failed to catch up. No one was as fast as he was. He galloped with an insane fury, as if the blood flowing through his veins was boiling. His golden shield glittered and sparkled like an image of the sun, and the grass greened around his horse's legs. At that moment, Jaime felt like the reincarnation of the Warrior himself.

The enemies were closing in on him so quickly that he didn't even dare to blink. Instead, he gripped his spear tightly and hurled it at the spearman in front of him. The steel point pierced through his chest and out his side. Seeing an opportunity, his horse slipped through the gap in the formation just left by the fallen spearman and ran over the poor wretch trying to cover the position.

His fighting space was reduced to a few elbows around his horse. Jaime swung his sword and slashed the throat of a man who was trying to skewer his chest. The soldier died before he hit the ground. Three enemies surrounded him. The first tried his luck from afar, with the safety of the reach of his lance, but Jaime cut off the tip with a deft backhand. Another rushed at him with his axe, but Jaime easily deflected it with his sword and then slashed his face with such a swift movement that the man had no chance to react. The third took this opportunity to try to attack him from the other side, but a horse ran him down as soon as he started the attack. Enough spearmen had diverted their attention to him to cause their ranks to fray, allowing the rest of the cavalry to penetrate the already broken line, leading to carnage.

Jaime kept up the momentum and charged once more, but an arrow pierced the chest of his steed, which reared up in pain and knocked him off his horse. He fell backwards against the ground, without letting go of his sword, and it did not take him an instant to get back to his feet, although by then his horse had already moved several paces away from him, kicking left and right. Two other spearmen had approached him, thinking that the fall would have left him confused and disoriented, making him easy prey. Jaime laughed, deflected the spears with his shield and gutted one of the men with a deep gash in the belly. The soldier dropped the spear in agony, and his companion recoiled at the horrible sight. Jaime reached him in the blink of an eye and killed him with the sword still stained with his friend's blood.

He shook the blood from his bloody blade, feeling alert, excited, alive.

"Come on... where are you?"

A larger group of enemy soldiers were heading towards him, including the occasional lord in shining armor. From the way they suddenly stopped, Jaime guessed they hadn't expected to see how their line had crumbled so quickly. He charged forward without a moment's hesitation.

He attacked one of the knights with ferocious brutality. The battlefield was not the same as a duel or a tournament, which was what most of these summer knights had seen, so Jaime did not linger to dance around his opponent to size him up, as he normally would. That would only get him stabbed in the back by one of the soldiers. Instead, he unloaded a succession of quick, powerful blows against the sword of his adversary, who was forced to retreat until he stumbled and left his guard open. Jaime needed no more.

The body fell at his feet and Jaime continued to advance without paying more attention than necessary to his surroundings. He had to find him. He had to find him now.

It took a few more minutes, but he did it. He was there, surrounded by a few dozen men and his stupid personal guard, with their rainbow cloaks. In his glowing green armor and helmet with huge stag antlers, King Renly was unmistakable. He probably thought that by dressing like this he would look more like his late brother, but he was nothing more than a crude, pathetic, cheap copy. The real Robert would have charged at him hammer in hand, but that king took refuge among his men as soon as he laid his eyes on him.

He engaged in combat with the first of his guards and managed to pierce his neck with his sword in just a couple of moves, while the few of his men who had come there with him faced the rest of the soldiers. He saw Tregar, but he saw neither Ser Arys nor Ser Balon. Surely, they were fighting elsewhere, or they might already be dead. He did not care.

With no time to rest, he lashed out at the purple-armored warrior, slashing frantically at each other. At that moment, his life consisted of momentum, of choosing a direction and not allowing anyone or anything to divert him from it. As soon as their swords crossed, Jaime knew he had the fight won. He unleashed blow after blow against the enemy's shield, until he noticed how, upon impact, the shield gave way. One of the straps had broken. Jaime reacted instantly and threw a thrust to his neck, piercing his throat. No matter how strong an armor was, they all had the same weak point.

Before the corpse collapsed on the bloody grass, Jaime was already looking for his next target. Only one guard stood between him and Renly. He wore a green cuirass like his liege but had three distinctive golden roses on his breastplate. Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers. Ser Loras raised his sword and pointed the blade at him in defiance.

What a fool.

Jaime attacked with a deft thrust, which the Knight of Flowers awkwardly deflected. Slash after slash, Jaime was gaining ground and approaching his target. Renly continued to watch, lost in thought, until he finally came out of his trance and understood the gravity of the situation. He drew his sword and charged towards him, ready to help Ser Loras. It was almost too easy. Jaime stepped back with fluid gestures, biding his time. He was very close to succeeding, but he had to be cautious. The ideal would be to prolong the confrontation, and rely on his greater skill and experience, or wait for one of his men to show up to help him. Unfortunately, Renly's reinforcements would soon arrive from the Mud Gate, so he had no time to lose. Still, he behaved as Renly and Ser Loras expected him to, dodging attacks and pretending to prolong the fight.

Confusion showed in the movements of the two. They were surprised that Joffrey could be such a good swordsman as to put them both in difficulty. Loras advanced again and Jaime dodged backwards, faster than his adversary. Then, when Loras launched his next attack, Jaime dodged towards him. He deflected his blade with his shield and wedged his sword into his armpit, where the armor did not protect him, squeezing hard until the point of his sword pierced his shoulder. Loras fell to his knees, writhing in pain. Only Renly was left.

Jaime launched slash after slash against Renly, who was finding it increasingly difficult to block his attacks. Jaime threw one last blow against his guard with such force that the king's sword slipped from his grasp, falling several feet away. Jaime hit him with the shield and made him fall backwards to the ground. But just as he was about to finish him off, a sword got in his way. Jaime turned to his new opponent. It was not Loras, who was still on the ground, but a burly soldier in blue armor, at least a head taller than him.

The soldier did not give him a chance to react and threw one slash after another. His blows were telegraphed and crude, but he threw them with such brutality that Jaime was forced to go on the defensive. He tried to deflect them with his shield, but the moment the sword impacted against him, one of the straps holding it to his arm snapped. The soldier noticed immediately and grabbed the shield, twisting it around his arm until he managed to snap the other strap. The shield fell to the ground, Jaime staggered and traced an arc with his sword, trying to parry a blow that did not come. A horrible thought crossed his mind. He was on the defensive.

Jaime dodged the next swing, but the backhand hit him square on the side of the head. His helmet spun around, and the bent metal slammed into his temple, making him bleed. He began to see double, blurred.

No, it can't end like this.

He sighed. His arm ached, and he felt his breath begin to catch. The battle was beginning to take its toll on him. With a roar, his adversary lunged at him, but Jaime raised his blade at the last second in a wild, instinctive parry that found the knight's weapon and ripped it clean out of his hand. Jaime gripped his blade with both hands and rushed towards his adversary to give him the final thrust, but as he was about to pierce him, a hand grabbed him by the side and he felt something icy pierce his chest. A shining silver blade, only stained by his own blood, had pierced his armor as if it did not exist.

His last thoughts were not for his men, who were dropping like flies around him, nor for his opponent who watched him stunned as he fell, or for the king he had been about to kill. They were not for his father, whom he had disappointed so many times, or for his sister, whom he had loved so much. They were for his brother, who he hoped could forgive him for failing him again.