*Thanks for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it! I would prefer to hear from the readers whether or not you'd be happy for this story to explore a widely discussed/argued fan theory? Like I said, I don't want to anger people and put them off of reading. This chapter gave me the absolute shits! In the end I'm just having to post it because it's getting too messy for me to keep re-doing it! I hope it's not too long and drawn out! (I struggled to write Jon!) Would you readers prefer shorter chapters? Or this length is okay? Just want to please! :(*
Tyrion felt his throat constrict and his mouth dry out instantly. Watching from the large double doorway of Highgarden's entrance, he counted three riders and a wheel house. It was supposed to be just Jon and Ser Davos, not this many and why a wheel house? They were moving at a steady pace, two riders astride at the front, followed by the wheel house and a lone rider at the back.
"This is a fucking disaster." He whispered to himself, feeling the immense pressure. The sweat made his palms tacky and his brow glisten under the now risen sun. They finally passed through the gates, Bronn's brawny swordsmen allowed them through and Tyrion could finally make out the riders. Up front on a beastly black mount, Jon Snow, naturally. Along side him rode Ser Davos on a dappled grey mare, with her head tossing dramatically next to the dark stallion beside her. Then, at the back, Brienne of Tarth in all her glory. The chestnut mare she sat atop was only marginally smaller than Jon's mount but just as broad and muscular. Their hooves clattered on the stone, growing louder as they neared until finally they pulled to a halt near the stone steps. The creaking wheel house was the last to cease movement, it's passenger or passengers still unseen.
"Tyrion." Jon practically beamed as he slid from the stallion. "I never thought I'd be happy to see a Lannister." His comment was foreshadowing, he was going to be triply happy today then, unbeknownst to him.
"I'd greet you as a fellow bastard but that's no longer the case." He forced a smile. Don't act nervous he kept telling himself sternly.
"Never was." He grunted. "I'm not a bastard and you never were." He handed his stallion off to one of the swordsmen who offered to take it, two others received the remaining horses whilst they all gathered at the steps.
"All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes, remember?" Tyrion repeated the same sentence he'd once uttered to a young Jon at the wall, pulling a smile from the now grown man. His hair was jet black, his eyes matching whilst his skin was a ghostly shade of white. Next to Brienne however, he looked somewhat tanned. "Ser Davos, Lady Brienne, it's good to see y-"
"I am an anointed knight, or have you forgotten?" She interjected abruptly, startling him slightly but she soon smiled. "Thanks to your brother, it's Ser Brienne now." The latter of her sentence was uttered with a heartfelt look, all eyes turning to him sympathetically on the news of his siblings dying tragically.
"How could I forget, I was there to witness the historic event." He bowed his head. "The first and only female knight in the Seven Kingdoms." Avoiding their gazes he swallowed hard, attempting to find some words but Ser Davos jumped in.
"Differences aside, they were still your family and I'm sorry you lost them both that way." He spoke charmingly, the sincerity of his words making Tyrion feel even worse. His own son had died as a result of Tyrion's orders in the battle of Blackwater Bay. Yet here he stood, no grudges held, no hard feelings. He understood it was a war and tragedies happen. His attendance today was going to be extremely helpful, Ser Davos had a way of reaching people, similarly to the way Tyrion could but with a stronger emotional connection. He was relatable.
"I'd welcome you in like true guests but I'm not sure I'm even welcome myself." He joked before locking eyes on the wheel house. "You have another companion?"
"Yes, Bran is with us." Jon spoke, giving Ser Davos a nod, wordlessly instructing him to help his brother out and Brienne automatically followed. "I sent Arya on with the rest of the group to King's Landing." He began up the steps and stood by Tyrion's side.
"And Lady Sansa?"
"There must always be a Stark on Winterfell, she chose to stay back and help rebuild. She's good at commanding and as much as it sickens me to say it, I think she learnt a lot from your sister on that front."
"Ah, yes, two undeniably strong females." He grinned nervously. "Neither to be trifled with."
"Not anymore. Your sister is dead." The words were cold and sharp, not at all unlike the wolf's head hilted sword dangling dangerously from Jon's hip. "A lot of people will celebrate that news." He talked whilst glancing up at the high and daunting walls of Highgarden's homestead.
"And you're one of these people?" Testing the waters, he tried to gauge Jon's feelings on his siblings. Prep work for the uncomfortable conversation they'd soon be having. Jon squinted in the sunlight, surveying the surroundings as he thought long and hard about his answer.
"I've seen enough death. I've done enough killing. I'm tired of it all. Death isn't something to be celebrated, no matter the person." His Northern accent stained each word as Tyrion listened intently. This was his King. This was their future leader. A good, noble, honest and loyal man. "It's always someone's father, mother, lover, brother, sister, daughter or son." He paused. "All the men I've butchered, they had children and wives. I stole from them something they cannot get back. They were your brother and sister. Despite the things they'd done, I won't cheer for their deaths because for my friend it was a great loss." Tyrion felt as though he'd been punched in the windpipe. He lost the ability to speak, no words came to him as he stared ahead at Davos and Brienne lifting Bran's mobile chair up the steps.
"Come inside, we need to talk." He glanced back at the other three before locking eyes with Jon again. "Alone."
"What's taking them so long?" Cersei breathed, her jaw clenching with impatience. "They entered hours ago and we've heard nothing." She seated herself in the chair having grown tired of her own relentless pacing. She was in turmoil, her nerves frayed and causing her great distress. The pair had watched discreetly from the balcony as the party entered Highgarden.
"Maybe it's a good thing?" Jaime offered an insight, his sister looking to him for more words. "If things had gone South, surely they'd have come up looking for us by now?" Getting to his feet, he clutched at his side gingerly. He hadn't mentioned it, to either sibling, but he felt as though it was worsening again. Similar to how it felt the morning they'd woken in Ashford. "Whatever happens, we'll be together." He reached where she sat, crouching down to her level. "Nothing can change that." Running his left palm over her cheek, he felt saddened at her worn out appearance. Her once glowing skin was devoid of colour and the dark circles under her eyes only exaggerated the trials and tribulations of the last few days. He didn't look so great himself, paled and sickly with a dullness to his eyes.
"You fought with him, at Winterfell." She started, a small pause interrupted her flow. "What was he like?" The question itself was extremely simple but Jaime struggled to find the words.
"I've never seen anyone like him." He shook his head, reminiscing. "He commands respect without actually commanding it, the moment he enters a room it belongs to him. He's lived his whole life as a bastard and now he has a real name, he's walked in more than one person's shoes. A bastard, a Stark, a brother of the night's watch, a wildling." His list trailed off.
"A King for the people." She concluded softly, although she was beginning to favour him over Daenerys, she couldn't shake the bitterness from the situation. That throne had been her husband's before she'd had him murdered, her eldest son's, her baby boy's and lastly, hers, in her own right. It was taken from her.
She wasn't delusional, she knew that throne didn't belong to her or either of her cubs before her but the protection it offered them was unparalleled. How far she'd fallen since then. She was never a ruler for the people, she cared very little for them in fact. They were beneath her, but she'd known nothing else growing up. She was a Lannister of Casterly Rock, she'd never wanted for anything material in her whole life. Clothes, dolls, jewels, food, a nice warm bed (even if Jaime was banished from it). But the things she'd craved the most were the two things she'd never get. A father's love and a mother's embracing arms. She was neglected of one and robbed of the other. She felt this bitter sting when she saw the Stark girls with their father, Lord Eddard. He would have moved mountains for them, not for the sake of the Stark name or the reputation of their house but for the interest of his dearly beloved daughters. Had he not been executed she had no doubt in her mind that he would have refused Sansa and Joffrey to marry. Her cruel and sadistic son was undeserving of his daughter's love. Even Cersei knew this.
"How do you think he'll react when Tyrion tells him?" Tapping her fingers lightly on the arm of the chair, she looked from where her hand was fidgeting and back to Jaime's face as she spoke.
"I don't know him well enough to say for certain. Joffrey beheaded his father-"
"His uncle." She corrected gently, reminding her brother of Jon's newfound identity.
"Regardless, he lost a lot of family members at the hands of us and our father. I don't believe he has a soft spot for the taller Lannisters." Swallowing nervously, he too started to wonder what was taking so long.
The noise around them seemed to come to a complete standstill, like the world had been paused for a small fraction of time. They were in some sort of library, a large wooden table in the corner of the room and each of the four walls was climbing high with endless amounts of books and scrolls. Most of them were dust-covered and neglected but the odd few had seen human touch in the last few months at least. The candle burning in the middle of the table flickered with the small draught entering under the large weirwood door that enclosed them within. Tyrion stood anxiously, once again lost for words. He kept finding himself struggling with that as of late.
"What is it you wanted to talk about?" Jon pressed finally, they'd been occupying the room for at least a minute and so far nothing had been uttered because Tyrion was almost too afraid to begin.
"Yes, we need to discuss what's going to happen when we return to King's Landing." He approached the flagon of wine situated to the side of the desk but felt his fists clench when he came to find it was empty.
"I don't know what I'm going to do yet-"
"Well, it's about time you thought about it." Although half smiling, the warning behind Tyrion's words was one hundred percent serious. "You are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, we've discussed this at great length already but you know what you must do."
"I don't want the throne-"
"It matters very little what you want." He shook his head, marching towards the chair at the desk and taking a seat. "The people of Westeros deserve a chance to survive-"
"And that is why Daenerys is here." Jon once again defended her honour and Tyrion wondered just exactly how long he was going to keep this up. "She wants to break the wheel and make a better world-"
"Yes and how exactly do you think she means to do this?" Tyrion questioned confidently, the room falling into a silence once more as he let Jon ponder on that question for a moment. He already knew the answer though. "She isn't done fighting." He finally concluded, his voice showing utter defeat. "What happened in King's Landing will happen all across Westeros, one by one every city will bend the knee, otherwise they'll forfeit their lives and burn." Their eyes met. "You can stop this, you said it yourself, you're tired of fighting and killing. This doesn't have to be the way."
"You lost your brother and sister, I understand your pain and I am sorry that it happened but war is war and we do as she commands. She's our Queen." Jon's words may as well have been spoken to a brick wall, for Tyrion wasn't entertaining any of them.
"Cersei rang the bells, she surrendered the city! And our Queen still chose to burn it! The very city she was claiming to save!" His words were more emotional now, a punch behind each sentence as he spoke straight from his heart and not his head. "All those innocent lives, women and children. All dead and for what?" The echo of his question was dulled against the stone walls. Jon's mind was instantly catapulted back to the Lannister soldiers who had thrown down their arms at the sound of the chiming bells. Their terrified faces as Drogon rained fire down over them from above, the streets and it's people burning and fleeing in a flurry of blood-curdling screams. The sound alone was still so present. Greyworm and his men fought the unarmed men, butchering them cruelly as Jon held his own banner men back from participating in the murders. He was a man of honour, slaying unarmed men and prisoners in their care was not in his nature and nor would it ever be.
"What I saw in the streets of that city, I will never be able to forget." He breathed, his nostrils flaring with what Tyrion would only perceive as deep emotion. "But I can't take the throne. You're asking me to betray her, and then what? The Dothraki or Unsullied kill me and the last of my house? I get my sisters and brother killed so I can attempt to take that evil seat of swords?"
"They're your cousins, not your siblings." Tyrion remarked. "You are a Targaryen and that throne is your birthright."
"I am also a Stark. I was raised as their brother and I will always be their brother." Speaking sternly, he turned away from Tyrion and looked towards the door, wishing for this conversation to be over but he could feel there was more coming.
"Despite what you believe, I didn't ask you here to discuss only this." He inadvertently confirmed Jon's prediction, trailing off as his mouth dried with anxiety. Just say it, get it over with his mind urged but soon quieted when Snow turned to look at him again. All this talk of overthrowing Daenerys was potentially a bad starting topic. He looked positively harassed now.
"What else?" Jon asked abruptly, the confusion in his eyes deepened the longer he waited.
"I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to be out with it." He slid from the chair behind the desk, his brain trying to put the words together cohesively in his head before he actually uttered them. "Before King's Landing fell, I set Jaime free-"
"That was you?" The furrow in his brow hardened, he shouldn't have been surprised but somehow he was.
"I set Jaime free." He continued again loudly, angered at being interrupted. "So that he could ensure the bells would ring if Cersei refused to do it."
"Daenerys will have you killed for his, you know that don't you?" His furious frown was now more of a concerned gaze. He liked Tyrion, he was a good man. A smart man. He didn't wish to see his body burning next.
"Which is why you'll keep this to yourself." Waiting for a response, he wanted to be doubly sure things were kept tight. The look in Jon's eye alone was a good enough promise. "I have him here." He said it so quietly, he had to question whether it had even left his mouth but the changing expression of Jon's face was a good tell that he'd uttered it aloud.
"You have the Kingslayer? Here?" His teeth gritted together intermittently. "Tell me why I shouldn't ride straight for King's Landing now and inform our Queen?!" His angered yells were slightly muted in the smallish room.
"Because he's as good as dead if you do that, you'd be kinder to kill them both here yourself!" Slipping up in his emotional outburst, Tyrion winced as Jon stepped back in complete bewilderment.
"Them? You have your sister here too?" He stood himself tall, his chest rising and falling quickly. "Neither of them died, you helped them to escape." The breathiness of his sentences made the accusations sound all the worse. "You've been plotting against Dany all this time, she trusted you!" He prodded his own chest angrily. "I trusted you!"
"That's not how it is-"
"Where are they?" The growl of his tone was not a good sign.
"Please, will you just listen!" Tyrion made a dash for the doorway, standing himself between it and Jon to prevent him from making a sudden escape in search of the twins. "Just hear me out-"
"You have two known traitors hiding in your protection without the Queen's knowledge." He reasoned, wanting to scream bloody murder but kept himself in check. "This is treason. You saw want happened to Varys!"
"Every night!" He yelled so loudly he made his own eyes water. "The moment I close my eyes, all I can see is his face being consumed by the flames all over again! That was my doing! I went to Daenerys and informed her of his treasonous acts just as you'd be doing now! Could you live with yourself after that?" His finalising sentence was more softly spoken but greeted only with silence, pushing him to continue. "They have nothing left, they have no allies, no armies. They pose no threat whatsoever." He breathed rapidly, presenting their case in the most heartfelt way he could. "They'd bend the knee if it came to it but we both know Dany won't accept that-"
"But I would?" He cut him off with an icy question. "Is that what this is about? You want me on the throne so I'll show mercy and spare your userper sister and your king slaying brother?"
"I want a just leader. You are that leader. Killing and burning is not the way I wanted this to happen." He looked defeated and exhausted. "You'd rule the right way. People will survive because of you and they will follow you willingly. There's no part of me that believes you agree with what she did in King's Landing and I know for a fact you would not have done the same thing. The world is simply not ready for her."
"Even so." He started, finally reasoning with the idea. "What am I to do? She has an army of Unsullied at her back and a Khalasar following her every step. She's my blood." He hardened his face again. "And why shouldn't your siblings burn for what they've done?"
"You said it yourself earlier." Tyrion's voice was subdued now. "Death is nothing to be celebrated, no matter the person." He walked slowly back to the chair and sat on it with a long and shaky sigh. "I've wanted my sister dead for a long time. On more than one occasion, she's tried to kill me too." He smiled as though they were fond sibling memories. "But when I thought they'd actually perished, I felt it in my heart for both of them-"
"They're killers-"
"As are you! As is every other man in this building! Pile all the bodies together that my sister, brother and father have killed and it still wouldn't amount to the thousands Daenerys has slaughtered!" Breathing for a moment to collect himself he had to keep Jon calm and yelling wasn't going to do that. "Everything they did was to protect their family, my sister's actions were almost always reactive. Responding to threats against her or her children. All three of them now dead, two as a direct result of my own actions. Losing children does awful things to a mother, she saw all three die before they reached adulthood." The look in his eyes was hard for Jon to ignore. "What would you do? If these were your siblings and you know they'd done wrong but the root of their reasoning was pure? Would you offer them up to a fire-loving Queen? Would you execute them yourself?"
"Where are they? I want to see them." He still looked vexed, instilling a horrible feeling of dread in the pit of Tyrion's stomach.
"What will you do to them?" His blue eyes darted between Jon's nervously, the realisation that things were not going to end well hit him full force.
"I want them to confess to their crimes-"
"Crimes?" Tyrion looked taken aback, his eyebrows pulling down nearly covering his eyes as they teared up. "My brother fought along side you at Winterfell. He rode North alone and faced you all like the lion he is! He could have been murdered as soon as he stepped foot on your lands." He breathed heavily between each sentence. Noting that Jon was finally listening, he continued. "But he still came to help fight the undead-"
"Because your sister lied to him and to us!" Spitting furiously, he still held a deep anger for that slight.
"I can't defend my sister's actions, we have no real love for one another but she is still my sister." It looked as though his own words were hurting him. "You're a decent, honourable man. You would never go back on your word the way she did but tell me, how many of your children have you seen murdered?" He studied Jon's thought-filled face but no answer came. "She was angry. Just as Daenerys was when her dragons were killed. People do stupid things when they're angry, especially Cersei and a wounded lion is often the most dangerous. I thought her pregnancy would make it easier to force an agreement of peace, her unborn babe's life spared if she surrendered the city but she's no fool. She's heard of our Queen's ways and even surrendering would mean death."
"There is no justifiable reason for going back on your word." Jon maintained his stance on the matter, he was as stubborn as Ned Stark in that manner.
"No? What if it was your family you were protecting? You wouldn't do anything it takes to protect Bran, Sansa or Arya?" He stepped towards him, finally drilling the message home. "You led thousands to their deaths during the Battle of the Bastards, in a vain attempt to save young Rickon and retake your home. Do you remember how it felt when Ramsay Bolton shot him down? Experience that feeling three times over." He gave him a second to contemplate it. "That is the extent of Cersei's rage. You let your heart lead instead of your head that day. Just as Cersei has been doing. She did what she had to do to protect herself and her unborn babe. Daenerys was a threat and she needed her armies close. She does not respond well to threats, especially where her children are concerned. Ned Stark learnt the hard way and lost his head for it, do you remember that?" The silence his question was met with told him it was new information as he blinked sadly. "That's how long she's been scrambling to protect her family, your father - uncle- confronted her on her children's true parentage. Born of incest, bastards of my brother Jaime. Ned threatened to tell King Robert. She and her three cubs would have been stoned in the street, paraded through King's Landing and slaughtered like livestock. Tommen was barely seven years old. If that was you, could you honestly tell me you would have done any different?" A grave quietness draped over them like a heavy blanket. "You can't, can you?"
"I will not feel sorry for them." He eventually opened his mouth, his voice calm and collected but the wrinkle above the bridge of his nose gave away his simmering anger. "Nor the product of their incest-"
"I would climb down from that high horse of yours if I were you. You're a Targaryen. Your entire bloodline is wedded brothers and sisters. Jaime and Cersei have been fucking one another since before they were even mature enough to know what they were doing, every time they doubted their actions in later life they would justify it because of your ancestors. And you haven't forgotten Daenerys is your aunt, have you?" Tyrion finally felt like he had the upper hand now, his heart rate a lot less frantic than it had been. Getting back to the topic at hand, he uttered his finalising sentence. "There is a time to kill to save lives and a time to show mercy and spare them. Killing my brother and sister won't undo what they've done."
"As I said, I will not feel sorry for them." His nostrils flared with a sharp exhale. "But I will be merciful." He looked away, frustrated with the whole situation. "If they cross my path again, I will not hesitate to deal with them as I see fit. Bring them down and get them ready to leave with Ser Brienne by nightfall, before I change my mind." Barking the words quickly, he wanted them out of his mouth before he thought about it too much and felt wrongly about his decision. "Too many eyes have seen us here, if word gets out that they're alive and were here, it's only a matter of time before our names are mentioned too. They need to be moved."
"Where to?" He stuttered, surprised that his pleading and endless talking had actually had the desired result.
"Horn Hill."
The room felt as though it was darkening with each passing second, still they sat waiting and wondering their fate. Jaime was perched on the edge of the bed, his face white with agony. Even the wound from losing his hand hadn't felt this awful. The entire time Cersei had been watching him closely, her concern spiking when she'd seen his jaw tensing repeatedly in pain. Beside him, his sword lay sheathed, ready for any potential combat.
"You're in pain, you need more milk of the poppy." She stood from the chair she sat in, approaching him slowly.
"It might not be necessary if Jon Snow decides to chop our heads off-" His sentence trailed off drastically at the sound of footsteps fast approaching. Jaime immediately got to his feet, his pain cast aside whilst he grabbed his sheathed sword and wrapped his hand around the hilt at the ready. "Get behind me." The hushed instruction didn't need to be uttered twice, she moved to the corner of the room behind him and stayed there with bated breath. Her right palm instantly settled over her midsection protectively. As soon as the door opened, Jaime had stepped forward, ready to draw his weapon but his gusto diminished instantly upon seeing Tyrion walk in.
"I'm alone, it's alright." His small hand raised, signalling there was no need to pull his sword out.
"What took you so long?" Jaime grizzled, throwing his belt and sword back on to the bed. Behind him, Cersei let out a breath of relief as she emerged from the corner.
"Jon Snow doesn't particularly like either of you, for very good reasons, so I apologise if it took some time to talk him into not murdering you both." Each word he hurled at his brother was full of displeasure, his eyes glinting with a frustration Jaime had rarely seen.
"He listened to you?" Cersei appeared at her twin's side, they both looked washed out and weary from emotional stress and worry.
"It wasn't easy, by any means." He paused, looking between the pair with an agonising silence. "But yes, he eventually came around." A gush of happiness ran through his body as he saw the relief exuding from them both. Jaime's head dropped, his lids closing whilst Cersei's palm flattened against her chest, stepping back in an attempt to get away from her own overwhelming emotions. "I've never had to talk so much in my life, he's as stubborn and hard-headed as Ned Stark." Moving over to the wine, he poured himself a cup. Every time he'd offered them one, they'd declined so he'd given up asking at this point. Slurping loudly, he turned to face them again as he wiped the blood red droplets from his lips and chin. His brother had moved to the end of the bed, seating himself down carefully and his sister in full control of her emotions once more, her focus now on her lover.
"His wound is still bothering him, should it not be healing by now?" Tyrion could probably count on one hand the amount of times he'd felt sorry for his sister, and this was one of them. She looked so innocent, sweet even.
"Jon is sending you both to Horn Hill tonight, there'll be a maester there who can see to it." The moment he spoke, their eyes landed on him at the same time.
"Horn Hill? Why?" She asked weepily, the underlying irritation present in her tone. She'd always been one to shed a tear when angered, almost like there was just too much rage built up inside of her sometimes, trying to claw its way out of her doll-like features.
He detailed them on everything that had happened with Jon, reassuring them as best he could that moving South to Horn Hill was a smart move. Not to mention more accomodating and they'd be free to move about the castle under the protection of their new host, Samwell Tarly. He'd travelled home to Horn Hill after fighting the army of the undead. Gilly wasn't far from birthing her second child, Sam's first, so instead of becoming a maester straight away he'd decided to spend some time with his family until the baby was born. Jon trusted him with his own life and the lives of his loved ones, Sam would do anything for him and thus this favour would be carried out diligently. It helped, marginally, that the Tarlys had also been Lannister supporters right up until the end when Daenerys burned Randyll and Dickon alive for refusing to bend the knee. Jon knew Sam felt a particular way about their new Queen, hence his excitement at learning his true Targaryen identity. He wanted Jon on the throne as much as Tyrion did.
Carrying out the orders given, Tyrion escorted his siblings down the stone steps and through the windowless corridor to the small, dusty library. The flames lighting the way danced and flickered wildly, the air around them almost suffocatingly heavy. Bronn and his men mainly stayed littered around the food hall and bedrooms. This part of the castle was deserted. Leading the way, Tyrion walked with a purpose, anxious about the looming interaction between Wolf and Lion. Cersei and Jaime walked side by side, her on the left, him on the right. Their fingers brushed against one another's lightly with each step. Sharing a glance, she felt his hand grip more firmly, giving her fingertips a reassuring squeeze. The large weirwood door creaked open loudly, Tyrion's whole body was needed in order to force it open. Entering first, he stepped to one side, glancing at Jon and then noticing Bran in the corner before looking back to his siblings and gesturing them inside nervously.
There wasn't a single word uttered. Just agonising, painful quietude. Bran was surveying silently, as was his custom now and Jon stood on the other side of the room, leaning against the wooden desk with a solemn and unforgiving look on his face. His eyes so dark they almost looked black in the light of the orange flames illuminating the room, a stark contrast to the green eyes of the lions now standing before him. Jon had to give credit where credit was due, Jaime in his injured state still stood tall and fearless even with a missing paw. Next to him, his sister as stoic as ever even in the face of potential danger, her face would never betray her fear. They looked strong and brave, just as the lion on their sigil.
"Is there a point to this intimate gathering? Or are we just here to stare longingly at one another?" Jaime remarked with a smirk, impressing neither of the Starks. At his side, Cersei clenched her jaw, not wishing for Jaime's blatant arrogance to antagonise the arrangement Tyrion had just spent hours wrangling.
"You'll hold your tongue if you know what's good for you, Kingslayer." Sniping back, Jon remained composed. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. That's how Jaime worked, he tried to get a rise out of people.
"Kingslayer." He repeated back to him with an even bigger grin now, his teeth flashing in the dim lighting. A lion's snarl in the shadows. "I slayed one King when I was seventeen and that name has never left me. I buried my sword in his back, an act that took only seconds and here we are years later." His brow twitched, feigning sincerity. "I'm sorry, how insensitive of me, I suppose that was your grandfather, wasn't it?" Jon merely stared at him, unprovoked by his comments.
"We're not here to talk about the Mad King." He stood up straight, his focus solely on Jaime until he saw Cersei's head bow slightly under Bran's gaze. This was the first time she'd seen him since the tower incident. She'd cringe for nobody, but the recollection of his small body, limp in his bed as Catelyn sat by his side had haunted her for a long while. Tommen was only a few years younger at the time, had that happened to him she would have gone above and beyond to make the person responsible pay for it with their life. "You crippled Bran." His eyes moved from Jaime to Cersei. "And you killed the man that raised me as his own son."
"She tried to stop it." Bran's voice surprised the room, all eyes now on him, he kept his focus pinned on Cersei. "There were hundreds of people gathered watching that day, and not a single person tried to step in. Aside from you." Bran watched her swallow hard, her face remaining as still as a lake.
Blinking sadly at the edge of the room, Tyrion recalled the day he'd arrived back at King's Landing as Hand of the King. He'd confronted Cersei on the Ned Stark situation and she'd said the same thing then too, she tried to stop it. Joffrey was wild and unleashed, no father to scold him or guide him and too strong-willed for even his mother to control any longer. By all means, a product of Cersei entirely but still Tyrion wondered if his parentage had caused something to go wrong inside of him. Tommen and Myrcella were beautiful children. It made no sense to blame Joffrey entirely on Cersei when she'd mothered two other sweet and loving cubs. Jon was staring at Bran before looking back at Cersei, his expression softer now upon recalling Tyrion's comments from earlier about wanting to protect her children. The swell beneath her robe caught his attention but he quickly changed his point of interest when she clocked his observing eyes and let her arms hang in front of herself, shielding the growing babe from view.
"Ned Stark was an honourable man, but a fool." Her left brow twitched as she spoke calmly. "When your father lay wounded on his bed after fighting Jaime, Robert struck me so hard in the face that I hit the ground. It was already bruising before Ser Meryn pulled me to my feet." Jon's forehead wrinkled, ill at ease with the thought of a King hitting his Queen. Jaime could do nothing but stare at the side of her face, her words twisting his insides painfully. "He'd hit me often, but never in the face before. That was too much of a risk for him to take. But this day he did it in front of Ned Stark, of all people. The look in your father's eyes told me he disapproved, despite his obvious dislike for me. I knew then that he was honourable to a fault." She paused briefly, the men around her tuned in to her every word. "When he threatened me with the truth about our children he truly thought he was doing the right thing but instead he told me his next move and weakened his own position." Her referral to Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella as our children made Jaime's heart warm a little. It was something only ever uttered in private, it felt liberating to hear her say it in front of others. "My husband would have scoured every inch of every land until he found us and killed us, he could never know. Despite what you hear, I wanted Ned to live. I planned for him to be sent to the wall to join his bastard son and his brother." Her green eyes flickered towards Jon as she spoke. "But Joffrey was King and he had other ideas."
"I didn't bring you down here to hear insults about Lord Eddard Stark." Jon mouthed each word carefully, despite his anger he didn't want hostility. He'd meant what he said to Tyrion earlier, he was tired of fighting and killing. Showing them mercy wasn't just a benefit for them but for him too. No more lives would be needlessly lost because of his actions, especially not an innocent child. "You will stay in this room until you travel to Horn Hill tonight. Ser Brienne will escort you there." He studied their faces, a strange mix between the pair. Jaime looked to have just seen a ghost whereas Cersei looked to be thinking hard, her brain working more quickly than Jaime's or even Tyrion's.
"What exactly does this make us?" She asked, her voice was soft unlike the fierce stare she was offering him. The green of her eyes as intense as the flames of wildfire, burning into the paleness of Jon's face.
"My prisoners."
