Everything was calm, including the bay and the dark sky above it. Even the soldiers in the yard were mostly quiet despite being well into their cups. But a battle was coming. The War of Five Kings had reached the capitol. Somewhere past the bay, out in the sea was Stannis Baratheon's fleet of warships. Stannis. Her last brother. He wasn't dead but Jacqueline already felt like she was in mourning once again. She hadn't seen her brother since Jon Arryn's death. He had left her, just as Robert and Renly had. But Jacqueline knew it wasn't fair to compare her brothers in that manner. Robert had died but Renly had simply left her when he fled King's Landing to crown himself. He had left her alone with lions and spiders. He had the dignity to tell Eddard Stark of his plans but not his own sister.

Stannis had left the capitol because he worried for his life, or so she believed. He hadn't really left her. But he wasn't coming back to save her either. He was coming for his throne. The throne that was his by all the rights and laws of the realm. She wondered which was more important to him. She had all but bent a knee to Joffrey; a fact that surely Stannis was aware of and one he would dutifully hold against her. She had too in order to survive, she told herself. She wasn't as strong as her brothers, something Stannis wasn't likely to forgive her for.

A gust of wind tousled her unkempt hair and pulled at the edge of her skits. Since word of Stannis' oncoming fleet reached the Red Keep, Jacqueline had trouble sleeping. She was plagued by dreams that would always end in her death or Stannis', sometimes both. She felt thin, like leather stretched too tightly for tanning. The soldiers were singing now and Jacqueline wondered how men who were about to die could find time to sing. She was never one for singing. "My lady, we should go inside," Ser Antario said. He was still here. He had always been there. Jacqueline hoped he always would be.

Jacqueline took one last look at the empty bay that she so desperately wanted to jump into before descending the steps of the high stone wall, with the knight following quickly behind her. The steps lead into a yard where a number of soldiers, mostly Lannister guards, had gathered to drink. She recognized the last few lines of The Rains of Castamere as she started to make her way through the crowd to the gate that led inside the Red Keep.

"Don't look so worried, my lady." She recognized the half-drunken voice of Bronn, the sellsword Tyrion had brought with him when he returned to the capitol. Jacqueline turned to face him. He had a cup in one hand and a girl sitting rather indecently on his knee; his other hand was wrapped around her waist. "If the city should fall, I'm sure you'll be just fine." That was followed by a laugh.

Jacqueline thought of ignoring him, but she couldn't. "Have you ever met my brother Stannis? He's stubborn and has an ironclad sense of justice and duty. He'll break before he bends. And if he should take the city, everyone you did not support his claim will have their heads put on spikes. Everyone. Including his own sister. So, I'd greatly appreciate if you didn't lose. I like my head where it is, thanks." With a swirl of her skirts, she walked back inside the stone walls she hated so much. It was all a lie though. She wanted Stannis to take the city and his throne. She only hoped that Stannis would do her the kindness of not displaying her decapitated head on the castle's walls afterwards.

She had hoped she would be able to make it back to her chambers without anymore social interactions but Jacqueline rarely got what she wanted. The bells started to ring just as she passed through the gate to make her way back to her room. She hated those bells. They had rung to signal Robert's death and now they ranged to signal for battle and the possibility of her or Stannis' death. Just as she was crossing the throne room, Joffrey appeared, flanked by a few members of the Kingsguard, including the Hound. Before Jacqueline could disappear, the king spotted her and she knew she would be forced to face the boy she once knew as her nephew and wish him good luck in killing her brother.

He took his time in getting to her; stopping to talk to Lady Sansa first. He wore dark red armor adorned with the roaring lion of House Lannister. Any representation of House Baratheon in the capital was left to her. Jacqueline use to hate the attention Joffrey paid to his mother's house, but now, she wanted nothing less. He was no Baratheon, if the rumors were true. And she was certain they were. Finally, Joffrey crossed the distance from his betrothed to her. He never took his eyes off her and she returned the gaze. "Aunt Jacqueline." He said with a smirk.

"Your Grace," She curtsied with a smile. "I pray to the Warrior to give you strength to defeat my traitor brother tonight. Though, I do not think you will need it." That was a lie. She prayed to the Warrior to give Stannis the opportunity to shove his sword through your mouth.

"You know, I considered hanging you from battlements to be the first thing my uncle sees when his ships come into the bay," Joffrey reached out and cupped her face in his gloved hand. It wasn't a vehement action but his touch still made Jacqueline uncomfortable. "But that would be a poor way to repay such a loyal supporter. Instead, I will give you Stannis' head." He dropped his hand but his smirk remained.

"You are most gracious, my king. That gift will be most welcomed." She curtsied again as Joffrey and his guards left, leaving her and Ser Antario alone in the throne room. "You'll keep me safe, right?" Jacqueline whispered as he appeared beside her.

"Always, my lady."

All the highborn ladies had been invited to spend the duration of battle in Maegor's Holdfast with the Queen, but Jacqueline declined citing an illness that would best be kept away from others. Instead she stayed in her room with the door locked and Antario standing outside. She sat on her bed, unsure of what to do. She fiddled with her dress, blue silk with yellow embroidery in the shape of swirling flowers and dragged sleeves the fell down past her waist. She kicked her heeled shoes off and brought her knees to her chest, wondering if she could sleep through the battle.

Her thoughts went to her brothers, the two that now rested peacefully at Storm's End and the one waging war on Blackwater Bay. Did Stannis think of her as he sailed from Dragonstone? Jacqueline wondered if she should have found a way to get to Dragonstone when she had the chance. She might not have been any safer but she would be with her family and away from the capitol. But she was surrounded by Lannister guards when she left King's Landing to ransom Jaime from the Starks. She had failed to that too.

Jaime. She loved him. She could admit that to herself now. There were more important things to worry about than her unrequited love for the Kingslayer. He had taken Jacqueline's maidenhead and kissed her once more in the Stark camp but, if she had learned one thing from Robert, it was that none of those things required love. She couldn't have the knight in white armor but she could think about him. The way his lips felt against hers and the way he had brushed a tousle of hair from her face as he lay on top of her. There was an aching in her stomach as well as in her heart. She wanted him here in the bed next to her. She didn't want to be alone.

How much time had passed since the bells had stopped ringing, Jacqueline wasn't sure. But she was pulled from her thoughts when she heard sounds from the corridor. It was the sound of men talking, no, arguing. Had Stannis' forces breached the walls already? Was the city taken? And if so, were the men in the hallway looking for her or just sacking the Red Keep? The voices turned into the clatter of steel on steel but those also disappeared quickly and were replaced with smashing against her door.

Jacqueline knew she should try to hide. But it didn't matter. If Ser Antario was dead then she was truly alone and unprotected. On the fourth smash, the wooden door splintered and was then easily pushed open from the outside. She recognized the red and black armor of a Lannister guard but the man behind him was clearly a member of the Kingsguard with his white armor and bloodied long sword. Without a word, the Lannister grabbed her ankle and pulled her roughly from the bed and her head bounced slightly off the stone floor.

Fearing a rape, Jacqueline kicked and flailed her arms about. But the Lannister simply pushed her limbs aside and took a firm hold of her hair by the root and pulled her up. She screamed and continued to kick as she was all but dragged from her room and over Antario's body which laid in a bloody heap in the middle of the corridor. Her fingernails dug into the sleeve of the guard's leather jerkin as he followed the Kingsguard, dragging her in tow but she couldn't reach his skin. Tears swelled in her eyes and they began to fall as she begged with the man to let her go. She wondered if this was how Elia Martell felt when the Lannisters came for her and her children.

They met no one as she was pulled across the throne room and out of the Red Keep. The night air smelled of fire and smoke. Her eyesight was blurred by pain and tears but she was able to make out armored figures running in different directions. There were unknown voices shouting commands and the noise of men fighting and dying clogged her ears. Only when the guard tried to pull her up the steps and onto the wall protecting the city did she know what was happening to her. "No!" Jacqueline sobbed before planting her bare feet firmly on a step and turning her body, twisting the guard's arm with her. When he finally let go of her hair, she gave him a rather feeble push but the guard was off balance enough that he fell backwards, nearly falling over the edge of steps. Jacqueline took the chance to run back down the stone stairs.

Her feet barely touched the last step before large thick arms grasped her roughly by the waist and pulled her back. This time it was the Kingsguard who came after her, lifting her into the air. She wasn't sure who he was, since he was face was obscured by this helmet and the smoke the filled the air, but she had a feeling it was Ser Meryn Trant. This time her nails found skin, but he didn't seem to feel it. When they reached the top of the stairs, he dropped her roughly, knocking the wind out of her. When she tried to find her feet and stand, he kicked her hard in the stomach. She never saw the rope but she felt it as the knight threw it around her neck and tightened the noose. The coarse fiber was rough against her skin and she had hard time breathing.

Jacqueline could no longer see through the tears and she couldn't tell if the screaming that echoed in her ears was her own or someone else's. She was going to die, die for her brother's sins. She had seen her brother for the last time and the next time he saw her, she would be swinging from the city's battlements. But at least he had his throne.

None of this would have happened if Robert was still alive. She was the king's sister. But now she just the sister of a dead king and two traitors. She was disposable. Her only use now was as an insult to Stannis. Jacqueline wished Jaime was here. He wouldn't let them do this to her. The thought was laughable. Why would the Kingslayer choose her over his own son? Cersei's son.

The knight lifted her into the air again and placed her on the edge of the wall. Her dress was torn and dirty and her hands were covered with spots of blood. With one last gush of courage, Jacqueline shoved her hand underneath his helmet and took a tight hold of the knight's short brown hair. If she was going over the edge, she was taking him with her. After being unable to pull away, Ser raised his sword preparing to hack her hands off. But then an arrow sliced its way through his throat. It had come from below, on the battlefield, but Jacqueline was afraid to look down in search of her savior, if it wasn't just a random arrow fired in blind effort. But instead of collapsing, the dying body of the Kingsguard slumped forward against the wall knocking Jacqueline off of it.

She kept screaming even after she stopped falling. One hand clutched at the edge of the wall and the other wrapped around the rope, well above the knot at her throat. Her bare feet kicked at the wall, looking for a foothold but she found none. The rope still had plenty of slack but Jacqueline couldn't breathe, for the noose was too tight. Smoke clogged her lungs and she wasn't able to get it out. "Help! Help me! Please!" She wasn't sure if anyone could hear her or if they would even be able to understand her if they did. The rope was tied too tight around her neck and she was on the verge of strangulation. She could feel her fingers begin to bleed from where she pressed them against the hard stone. The rope burned around her throat as well as against the skin on her arm where it was tangled in the slack. Jacqueline thought of letting go, letting herself fall and hoped the rope would snap her neck so she wouldn't have to strangle to death.

But then hands seized her own. They were large and callous ridden and their grip was firm and strong but not violent. "Pull me up. Pull me up!" She yelled in the event that the hands weren't sure of what their next action should be. But they were already drawing her upwards and she kicked against the wall in an attempt to help. When her stomach met the top of the wall, she all but tumbled over it, onto the safety of the stone floor, knocking her savior down with her.

When she looked at the man who saved her, she thought she must have died when she fell over the edge because the man lying next to her on the cold ground was Renly. At least it was his armor; dark green breastplate with a gold antler helmet. Had her brother's ghost come to save her, to do what he had failed to do in life? Jacqueline was not aware that she was crying again. The man in her brother's armor leaned over and took hold of the rope around her neck. After being unable to untie the knot, he banished a knife and cut the rope away.

Jacqueline barely noticed. "Renly?" She whispered in a hoarse voice, afraid that if she said his name too loudly the man would disappear.

But it wasn't Renly's voice that responded from beneath the helmet. "No, my lady." This voice was deeper than her brother's. Then the man reached up and removed Renly's helmet. He was not Renly. Why was he not Renly? Jacqueline thought desperately. "Ser Garlan Tyrell, my lady. Are you hurt?"

Considering what the man had just saved her from, it felt like a stupid question. She was unable to form any words over the panic the filled her chest and the tears that fell down her ashy face, so she didn't answer his question.

Author's Note

Yay! A regular update for once. But I've had the majority of this chapter written for a couple years now and I finally get to publish it!