Jaime
When Jaime entered the council chambers and took his post to guard the king he saw the usual assortment of people. All the council members in their usual seats, the pyromancer that Aerys favored the most stood off to the side by the wall watching the discussions taking place, and Chelsted was stood by where Aerys sat at the head of the table. The prince stands on the opposite side of the king and was speaking rather pleadingly to his father.
"The best chance will be if you send the letter yourself. Not me, not Chelsted again, you." His voice was strained and he was wearing his armor already, prepared to leave by midday with the army and the remaining kingsguard save Jaime. "He was your friend, and the best hand you've had in all your reign."
So they were speaking of his father, Jaime thought. His father who had sat in the Westerlands with his army watching from a distance while the kingdom turned to war and waiting to see which way the wind would blow. "He also has the strongest army available to us, making him our best chance at squashing the rebels quickly." Chelsted also seemed imploring in his speaking, apparently not even caring that he should have been slightly insulted at the fact that Tywin was called his best hand while the man is still currently in the position.
"He should have joined our cause already," the kings voice is sharp as the blades of his throne, and he coughed slightly after. His eyes beading and darting about the room for sign of betrayal. "It's treason enough that he's waited this long. Sitting on his rock of gold and watching as my kingdom is taken from me." The king was more paranoid than ever since Stoney Sept, more sure that Robert Baratheon and his rebel companions was the biggest threat his house has faced in generations.
"Things weren't left well when he resigned," Rhaegar tries to explain, and Jaime feels the princes violet eyes flick towards him. "But he was still your friend for the longest time, and is still loyal to the crown." Jaime wonders at that. Perhaps his father was loyal, but he has always been more loyal to himself and the Rock, more loyal to their own interests. "He has reason to defend you and your crown." Eyes again flick to Jaime and he feels a sudden bitterness bloom out from his chest as he stares resolutely forward, straining to not show his feelings about what the prince implied on his face.
"Send word, father, please." The prince begs once more, it wasn't a pitiful sound like one would think a prince begging would be. It was concern and frustration and the melancholy that was always present to Rhaegars voice. "If the rebels manage past us and past the trident before we can confront them in battle I would feel more secure leaving knowing that the city was defended by a strong army. That our family is secure and safe from threat of siege."
The silence that follows is long, every eye on Aerys to see how he answers. But a shred of sanity seems to strike the king as his eyes fall upon his son. Eyebrows narrowed seconds before faltering slightly while he nods and motions at Chelsted. "Bring me a quill then, go on now." His voice was harsh and he writes the letter quickly before sealing it himself with shaky hands.
The king was left alone in the room after it was done, the council heading to their individual duties and Chelsted heading to most like cry in fear in his rooms. At least that was Jaime imagined the man doing, the stress of the position didn't agree with him and Jaime often wondered if the man would faint or vomit whenever he is with the king.
Jaime exits as well, just for a moment to catch the prince before he departs the hall outside the council chambers. "I wanted to ask that you take me with," his voice was more pleading than he'd like, but he didn't care enough to mask it. He was pleading. He was begging for the prince to leave some other guard behind instead, to let him leave this blasted city and this mad king and to do something that mattered. He wanted to hit something with his sword, to dive into the thrill of battle and blood and war.
But the prince looked, his eyes sad whether because of Jaime or because that was just how his eyes are, and shook his head. "You have to stay, Ser Jaime." The princes voice was serious, deathly so, and Jaime wanted to hit something as he spoke. "Its my fathers wishes, to keep you close."
He wishes me here in the capital as a hostage, collateral against my father if he joins the rebels. Jaime thinks it all bitterly. "Please." He says once. He would only say it once, it was all his pride could allow.
The prince looks away and his head shakes once more. "Things will be made better, when I return, I swear." Jaime recalls Alys telling him that what the prince had said exactly that to her. He was saying it to him now, and perhaps he says it to all the hostages they hold. "But until then I need you to do your duty. Protect the king and queen, protect my wife and children." Rhaegar was looking straight into his eyes and Jaime wanted to shake his head but he nodded instead.
"I'll do my duty," he assures his voice low and bitter sounding but honest.
Rhaegar nods and he's about to leave when he pauses, hesitation in his step before adding. "Keep Alys out of any trouble until I return, away from my father. She's too valuable to lose at the moment." Jaime felt the violet eyes on him again as he nodded, they stared and studied him and he felt more exposed then he ever enjoyed feeling so he bowed lightly and turned from the prince then to return to his position guarding the king.
It seemed the prince's renewed absence from court began the rise of tensions within the Red Keep. That and the general consensus that whatever happens when the Prince's forces meet with the Rebels will be the deciding factor for this war. Which meant that many at court were worrying over what would happen if the prince lost.
Jaime knew many worried particularly about how the king would react to his sons loss. Would he topple over the edge of his madness and burn the city to the ground before letting the rebels come? Would it snap him back into some semblance of sanity and clarity that would help him rule better?
Truly no one knew. Not even Jamie who spent near every waking hour he had nearby the king. Silently guarding, occasionally listening as the king meets with Chelsted, and the council and his gaggle of pyromancers who've become a near constant within the Red Keep, setting everyone even more on edge with the ease at which the kings beloved wildfire could be pulled forth.
Jaime wasn't blind to it either. He saw the worry etched near constant on Chelsted's face every time the Pyromancer Rossart whispered something to the king. He saw the blanched look that covered the kings hand when the sickly green liquid placed upon the council table.
It seemed something was beginning to rise within the cowardly hand as he slowly seems to notice the increase of attendance that the pyromancers have with the king, the fire enthralled men having more and more meetings with only the king outside the council chambers. Leaving the hand unsure what it was the king was discussing with them.
Even Jaime didn't know. He was ordered outside the door and hadn't enough curiosity within him towards the kings wildfire love to strain to listen through the door of his rooms. But even Jaime was feeling the rise of worry at the frequency of it.
This tension built and built for near a week when it finally exploded like the sickly green liquid is often to do.
It starts outside the council chambers. The king and his pyromancers gathered inside. Jaime opens the door for Chelsted and follows him in. The hand had appeared, pacing through the halls before stopping before the door and forcing his way in. His face red with worry and eyes fearful but somehow resolute all the same. It was the boldest Jaime had seen the man be.
When he stopped at the end of the table opposite of Aerys, Jaime saw the mans eyes widen as he looked. Following his gaze Jaime could tell why.
The king and pyromancers were around the table, a map of the city open and small little green rocks put at spots too organized to be random. Jaime wasn't an idiot, regardless of what some may think, and he knew strategy well through years of it being drilled by his father. The green little rocks were placed in specific spots, and he knew they were meant to represent caches of wildfire. Placed in their strategic spots, if they all were to go off it would mean destruction for the city.
Jaime struggles to keep his face clear as Chelsted shakes his head towards the king.
The man tries to reason first with the king. Telling him there were better strategies to defend the city should Rhaegar fail to push back the rebels. Then he attempts to jest, but no joke could be truly found and made. He pleads, implores that the king not doom a city to ash when they could defend it. He tries to reason still, saying all sorts of plans to build the cities defense that involved anything but wildfire.
He reasoned to a man without reason. Pleaded to a man who has been deaf to pleas for years. And finally he looks down, dejected and dismayed before tearing the chain of hands about his neck from it. He tossed it so it skidded across the tabled, the thing crumpling the map and knocking about the stones until it stopped before Aerys.
Aerys's was still and silent for once, no shaking or cackling. "Treason." His voice rasped. "A treasonous hand like all the others." His eyes stared darkly towards the man, his thin and scarred finger pointed and ordered. "Take him to the black cells."
And Jaime did. Two of the pyromancers left with him leaving only Rossart at the Kings side and Jaime escorted the former hand steadily down through the keep before depositing him into a cell.
The man didn't thrash or fight. He didn't plead with Jaime. He was simply silent, and when Jaime looked at him sat in the filth of the cell he saw that the mans eyes were clear with acceptance of all that would come of this.
He'd known what would happen. And yet the man Jaime had believed so craven had found the courage to try.
Alys
Anytime the court was called with the king upon his chair Alys always felt a built tension of dread low in her stomach.
This day was no different.
Stood beside Elia, with Rhaenys between the pair of them she watched the king eye the crowd with suspicion and madness in his darkly purple eyes. The queen was stood nearby the throne, her own face set with stoney solemness as she watched the crowd gather about the throne room. Alys hoped, despite the uselessness of it, that perhaps this wouldn't be bad.
But that hope was squashed full and final as the doors behind them open and Qarlton Chelsted was brought into the room by two gold cloaks. As he was pulled along understanding crashed over the crowd around Alys, she studied the faces and saw the silent preparations they all made to face another burning. She steeled herself best she could, clasping her hands tight ahead of her and remembering Jaime's words of advice.
Go away inside. He'd told her that after the tourney feast. When the serving boy had burnt and she was forced into being just another person who could do nothing to help, could just stand amongst the rest of court to see it.
She tried, tried to turn her thoughts towards anything but the poor man being deposited center before the king.
But she couldn't. She looked at him and knew she couldn't ignore what he was going through.
She couldn't do anything to stop it. But she couldn't let his death be ignored and hidden from thought. He didn't deserve that anymore than he deserved what was coming, no one deserved that.
The king called words of treason, as he always does, and Alys keeps her gaze upon Chelsted. Watching him stand tall and resolute, she recalled Jaime's observations of the hand. Calling him spineless, but the man was standing there as brave as any could be when knowing the sort of death they faced here. Alys whispered a prayer in her mind for him, for it to go quick so he would not suffer long.
She was drawn from her prayers by Rhaenys's hesitant voice, it was quiet, she was aware enough to know not to draw attention. "What is that?" She was looking towards the green jar held by one of the pyromancers, a man who was now weighed down with the chain of hands that Chelsted had worn. "Mama?" Rhaenys's voice as wavered, she didn't know what was happening but she was aware of the way the room's atmosphere has turned, aware of the dire situation around them.
Alys looks quickly to Elia, grabbing the other woman's hand and drawing her back a bit through the crowd, her other hand gently taking a hold of Rhaenys's arm. "This isn't something she should see," she whispers the words quick to Elia, whose darks eyes are wide as she processes what Alys is saying. She nods, "come on." Alys tells her her, leading the two through the edge of the crowd, moving quiet and quick so not to draw attention from the king.
Though she doubts she'd be able to even if she shouted. His eyes were stuck on Chelsted, who was shoved to his knees as the pyromancer hand poured the sickly green liquid upon him, his own eyes shining as bright as the sickly liquid. Alys notes that Chelsted was shaking now, but he kept his head up, staring at the king whose lips were twisted in a smile.
Alys pushes Elia and Rhaenys through the doorway that will lead them towards Maegor's holdfast. "I'll be behind you in just a moment," she tells Elia before releasing her hand and sending her along with Rhaenys. Alys turns on her heel and stands by the doorway, her eyes resolutely on Chelsted once more.
She winces, against her own trying, as the flames are ignited and his screaming begins. But she doesn't look away, she can't. She won't. A man is dying from injustice, same as her father and brother had. She will not leave him to die with only the audience of those who ignore it and those who smile and cackle upon their throne of swords.
She watches, prayers to the old and new running through her mind as his screams echo in tandem with the cackle of the king, the sounds punctuating the otherwise silent space. She watches until the screams end and the body slumps over, green flames still flicking and lighting the space. She watches until they are put out and the court dismissed.
She stays, hidden in the shadows by the doorway as the rest of court pushes away from the room after the kings dismissal. They leave quick, wishing to push what little had penetrated their avoidance with nicer things about the Red Keep. All of court quick to leave the room that smelled of ash and death, all but Alys.
She stays until the ashes are taken and only leaves once the kings cackling had turned to coughs and he moves off his sword throne.
She turns, not wanting his eyes upon her, and prays under her breath all the way to Elia's rooms. Prays for Chelsted and that he finds peace after the horror of life.
Jaime
Following the king through the halls of his keep following Chelsteds burning is rather mindless for Jaime. He moves with little thought as the king returns to his chambers for his dinner, eating smoked meats and drinking fine wine with little thought towards the man who had burnt before him. Or perhaps Aerys did think of his former hand, but his thoughts were that of pleasure and triumph in his twisted mind.
Jaime knew before the king had even left his chambers where they would go this evening. He followed, slow and steady, as the king headed towards the queens chambers. They've slept separate for years, and even their days were spent separate unless otherwise required. The queen avoided her king unless necessary. And like all times before where the king had burned a man earlier in the day tonight found the king visiting his queen.
The king enters, and Jaime takes his post stood outside the door. He goes to where he always does on nights like these. Thought turning to Cersei at Casterly Rock and the pleasure and love he feels there. Letting those memories and imaginations fill him so he doesn't think upon what is occurring behind the door to his back.
But it seems his mind is clearly struggling today. The thoughts of Chelsted stood before the king and chained before the king penetrate his delicate attempts of avoidance. The smell of him still lingered, even hours later and the sounds of his screams ring in Jaimes ears like a bell.
The bell of Chelsted now mingles with the sound of the queens cries through the door. "You're hurting me," her voice is unrefined this night, none of the power it typically holds during the day when she is far from her mad king. It is fearful and pained and struggling.
The sound of it hit and rung Jaimes head worse than the screams of death and pain that Chelsted had echoed in the throne room. It hit Jaime the way a sword would, deep and stinging and sure to leave a scar. He tries, hard, to turn his mind away. To ignore the sounds of pain and suffering that echo from past and present.
He tries to think of Cersei but even that can't protect him from what is around him.
He recalls, without thought or meaning, Alys after the tourney. She'd asked him how he managed it, the horrors of court that came with a king whose madness lead him to lust for fire and death. She'd told him she didn't think she could just ignore it like he'd told her to. He'd spotted her today, no one to drag her from the scene before it unfolded like he had at the tourney. No, he'd spotted her stood near a doorway, as though she'd been about to rush from the scene but had decided against it.
Why had she decided against it? How had she managed that? He'd spotted her still and staring, not at nothing or some random stranger or him. But at Chelsted, her eyes were clear and focused upon the man burning.
Jaime had never managed that. He'd never watched.
He always ignored it. He'd always gone away inside himself. Gone to Cersei or Tyrion or Casterly Rock.
Like he is trying to do now as the queens screams turn to whimpers.
No, that wasn't true. He'd tried once to not ignore it. Early in his position as a kingsguard, after he saw his first man burn by the king. The first night guarding outside the queens chambers while the king visited her with a lust in his eyes and ashes still clung to his skin. Darry had been stood with him, staring blankly to the wall opposite while Jaime had winced to the sounds.
He'd hated the sound then as much as he does now. After several moments of the queens cries and protestations of pain he'd finally been driven to say, "we are sworn to protect her as well." The kingsguard were sworn to protect the whole of the royal family.
But Darry had simply continued to stare at the wall while stating to Jaime, "we are." His voice was almost strained with trying to be plain, "but not from him."
Jaime hadn't understood that night why Darry had seemed to dejected. But now, over two years into his service as a kingsguard he was no different to Darry. He was stood, outside the queens door unable to do anything.
His vows as a knight would have him protect the queen, protect Chelsted, protect any who the king burned without reason.
But his vows as a kingsguard kept him still as the queen quieted behind the door. His vows as a kingsguard have him protecting the mad man who who exits the chambers, has him following behind all the way to his own chambers and protecting him until the gold-cloaks come to take over for the night while he sleeps.
They conflict. They always have. Vows to protect the innocent conflicting with vows to protect a man who deems everyone guilty.
Jaime leaves with the weight of these conflicts upon him. His mind both void and filled with too much to truly want to deal. He moves in his motions, going to the White Sword Tower where is is the only remaining resident. He drops his armor and collapses to his bed but sleep doesn't come to him.
He lingers in his bed while his mind becomes a tangled web of conflicting vows and horrors ignored. He's unsure how long he lays there, perhaps less than an hour though it felt like a dozen. But his body eventually moves him, standing him and leading him to wander for some time.
He doesn't think when he makes it to the secret door in the Maiden Vault that he'd found the night of the kings tourney. He pushes it open without thought either, slipping in and following the same path he'd taken a few times before until he's pushing on another panel and slipping into Alys's room.
The hearth is still lit, lighting the room in a flicker of orange light. He spots Alys quick, sat at a small table running a brush through her hair while staring rather blankly at a flickering candle beside her. She looks up as the stone shifts, her eyes catching him and widening slightly as he slips into the room and shuts it behind him. Letting the tapestry that covers it fall back as he sidles into the space in front of the hearth.
"Jaime?" She questions, her eyes curious and concerned as they study his form. "What are you doing here?"
He shrugs, though it feels tense to him as he wanders towards the small chess set on the chaise at the foot of her bed. He fiddles with one of the knight pieces while speaking, "I couldn't sleep." He states it plainly, as though his mind weren't filled with dour things.
She nods though, as though that makes as much sense as anything. "I don't imagine I'll be able to get much tonight either." She admits with a soft voice, "you're welcome to stay in here the evening. I'd appreciate the company." She says it as though she'd invited him in the first place. As though he hadn't just shown up through a hidden door and intruded in her space.
He nods with feigned consideration, "Yes well, very well." He settles onto one end of the chaise and glances towards the fire in the hearth instead of continuing to watch Alys in her nightly rituals. But it isn't long before she's beside him, moving the chess set to the ground and sitting next to him with eyes of grey staring curiously at him.
They sit like that for several minutes. Her eyes never leaving him and his never leaving the fire. He knows what he'd see if he looked to her. Pain and fear left behind from the burning today, likely the same sight he'd seen the evening of the tourney when she'd asked him to come back to her room after his shift. Her eyes would be grey and like melting ice. Perhaps some tears welled in the corners threatening to fall as she dealt with the horror of the day.
"Jaime?" Her voice finally draws him to look, a soft and questioning sound. He looks at her and its not the sight he expected. Her eyes are grey and soft like snow that one could fall into like a pillow. Her face isn't twisted with fear and pain and conflict, no it's just a beacon of concern all directed towards him. His own mouth twists down with the sight and he almost dislikes the feeling of pity that he imagines she holds. What reason would she have to pity him?
He's about to tell her as much, snap off and harsh but instead he's interrupted. A soft hand on his arm and a softer voice inquiring with genuine worry laced throughout, "are you okay?"
He should tell her yes. He should brush her hand and worry off him and hold his head high and leave. He can nearly hear his father's voice echoing in his mind telling him that Lannisters show no weakness to anyone, especially those outside their house. Weakness isn't allowed, only strength and pride. But he looks at her and his mind races through the sounds of Chelsted and the worse sounds of the queen and his chest falls with the need to hold himself to his fathers standards in this moment. "No," he states it rather sardonically with a sharp chuckle after another second, "No I am quite not okay." He sighs and shakes his head at it all, "how is it that I'm not? I make it two years of this and break over some cowardly man who walked into his own death of his own accord?"
"It's natural to break at some point," Alys tells him, her honest eyes not shying away from his own cynical ones. "It means your human, and have a heart."
"Pssh," he shakes his head again, looking away from her eyes and to the fire. "My father would tell you otherwise. Lannisters do not break, if they do they're weak and it shall not be tolerated."
"Your father is wrong," Alys says it, clear and sure and he barks out a laugh at her firm defiance towards his father. It makes Jaime wonder what an interaction between the two of them would be, his father would likely look to Alys and see a pawn. A weak one.
But Alys seems to care little for what Tywin Lannister would think as she continues on, "you're not weak for feeling something about what's happening here. You aren't weak for feeling."
Jaime peers back at her and knows just by sight that she believes it fully. He also knows that she's surprisingly put together this evening. How odd? That he would be tumbling while she stands tall. "You don't seem so affected today? Found a way to ignore it this time?"
She smiles, small and solemn at him, but utterly for him he realizes. It's not a smile for her, but but him. To assure him. "No. Quite the opposite in truth." She admits, "I watched, I didn't look away. I couldn't let him die without someone seeing him."
Jaime almost laughs, but it comes out choked and he shakes it away. "How odd of you. Watching a man die so he wouldn't feel lonely."
"I would want it if it were me." She says the words gently and it pulls at him, at his pieces that had grown loose with the queens cries.
"It won't be." He says it without thought or hesitation. "It won't."
His words draw a curious look across Alys's face as her head tilts. She studies him more, her brows scrunched and her eyes flicking across his face. "I thought I was doomed?"
"You'll be fine." He says it because he needs too. For her, and for him it seems. Odd… how utterly odd. He shouldn't need to, he shouldn't be saying it. He shouldn't be here seeking her company, but he can't bring himself to leave. "You've lasted this long." He adds it with a shrug, hoping to sway away the seriousness of his words and the vulnerability they've brought upon him.
"I have." She nods considering, "so have you." She adds, her hand where it still rests on him tightens in a reassuring squeeze.
"Yes, well, we are in similar boats after all." He recalls the prince and his words from a few weeks back. "You are kept here to keep the north in check, and I am a glorified guard whose true purpose here has always been in some way related to my father. First to spite him by taking the prized heir of the Rock and now as collateral depending on which way my father decides to send his army."
Alys watches him again, mulling over his words for a few moments of quiet before sighing. "Well, people in our position should stick close. Take comfort in similar situations." She smiles while saying it, offered to him and he sighs and takes it. "You'll be fine." She echoes his words back to him, her hand squeezing again.
"I feel quite useless," he admits, "here in this keep I feel utterly useless." He's utterly bitter as well, but that was a feeling he knew and understood. "I asked the prince to take me with when he left. At least out there I would have some use and purpose. Here there is nothing, I can do nothing," Alys is still as she listens, and she nods slightly at his words. "It's quite a cruel joke this kingsguard position." He glances down to where the chess set sits upon the floor, his eyes studying the little pieces and settling on one of the knights. "You have to be a knight to swear the vows of a kingsguard, but once you swear these new vows you must all but give up the old ones." He laughs a little, "protect the king and his secrets. Protect the innocent but not from those in power, protect the queen but not from the king." He recalls Rhaella's voice, her cries and his laugh turns bitter and he sighs. "Do you know what the king does after a burning?" He looks to Alys now and watches her shake her head lightly, but her eyes don't leave him. No, they watch and welcome whatever he is to say, whatever he needs to say. "No, of course not." He says it more bitter than he means but Alys doesn't flinch from his tone, "you're far enough from her rooms here in the Maiden's Vault. Sound carries well in the keep, but you're far enough to not hear her screams on these nights." He grinds his jaw at the echoing memories, "perhaps it would be easier to ignore if I weren't right outside the door."
"Jaime…" Alys's voice cuts the echoes, and she's turned more towards him. Opening her self it seems to comfort him. "It's not your fault what happens."
"No," he shrugs. Bitter. All of him bitter. "It's not, but some vows would dictate otherwise. I hear her screams but can do nothing because I made bigger more important vows to the man who causes them."
"If you did something would it stop? Or would it get you killed and continue anyways?" He meets her gaze and he feels as though she's willing him to keep it. "You swore all these vows, that's true, but when you swore your vows to Aerys you had no way to know what it would truly mean." She imploring him to listen and he does, his mind quiet as her voice cuts the echoes. "Besides, you keep them as much as you're able. You've helped me, and if it truly seemed possible I know you'd help the queen. Or anyone who needs it." She sighs, her eyes not leaving his but for a moment as she shuts them, thinking on her words or the day or any number of things hidden behind her shut eyes. "It's not your fault for what happens. You are not the one passing the sentence to burn a man alive, or the one going into the queens chambers and causing her pain. The fault lays one place, and its a place that neither you nor I can affect." She moves her hands, taking one of his and squeezing it tighter than she'd squeezed his arm. "We can only just try to survive. And do what little we can where we can even if it seems pointless."
Chelsted did what little he could, despite it being pointless and leading to his own death.
Jaime doesn't nod, but he doesn't look away from her. Hoping that's enough to let her know he understands her words. Because a part of him does, a part of him listens at a fundamental level to Alys and her attempts at comforting him and understands it. "This is all quite odd right now." He admits after moments of silence between them. "Usually you are the blubbering mess and I am the one forced to offer comfort."
Alys smiles, "you are not forcing me to comfort you." She tells him it like its all the truth needed, "I care about you Jaime, you have been a friend to me here. A true one. Sure you were harsh at times… but I believe it was what I needed. It would do me no good to be hidden from the truth of this place." She tightens her grasp on his hands, "you were honest, and when it came to it you were good to me. Comforting me when I needed it, but always honest as well. It is no difficulty for me to offer what I can."
He sighs and nods, "well you make it all quite hard if I'm honest." She smiles again, puzzling his mind but settling it's echoes still. "Annoying if I'm honest. Couldn't just let me be."
"Thank you, Jaime," she tells him, "for letting me annoy you into being my friend."
He waves his free hand and sighs. He doesn't say any more, and neither does she. Instead they sit, her hands still gripping his one. After several minutes of watching the fire die and the silence grows around them like a heavy, but comforting, blanket he notes her yawn in the corner of his eye.
"I'll leave you be now," he remarks, "you look one blink away from passing out." She shakes her head at him with a smile. "Come on," he stands, pulling her with him and motioning towards the bed. "I've had my breakdown, it's over and I can move back to being the prideful lion my father wishes for." She almost nods, but it stops as soon as it starts and she just looks to him for a moment. She worries at her bottom lip while she does, and he can see she's wanting to inquire after something. "What?" He asks, he should leave, because though he is still unsure whether he will be capable of getting any sleep he should at least leave Alys to her own slumber.
"You can stay," she finally tells him, "if you can't sleep. I have trouble to most nights." She shrugs and shifts on her feet, "but I slept easily the night of the tourney somehow, with you there." She is blushing, he realizes with a curious enjoyment. "Perhaps it'll help you as well?"
He barks a laugh, but its gentler than his ones from earlier, "how scandalous Lady Stark." But he's moving towards her bed without thought, motioning her to get into it herself. "What would the ladies of court think?"
She rolls her eyes at him as she crawls beneath her covers, "what does it matter?" She surprises him by saying, "you are a man sworn to celibacy and I am a hostage who'll be pawned to the best option when it suits the crown." She smiles though, and their isn't any hurt in her words at her statement of what is likely to come if her brother loses. "So," she pats the bed beside her and to Jaime's surprise he hesitates only a moment before climbing upon it. He doesn't go beneath the covers, but she does reach up to the end of the bed where a spare blanket rests and pulls it over him.
He settles there beside her on his back. He hasn't slept in the same bed as someone since Cersei, a night long ago where she'd whispered to him their fathers plans and her own. But this was different, utterly different, from that night. In actions and in feelings. Alys curled slightly against him, but not so much that she was pushing into his space. Though, a strange part of him finds that he wouldn't mind it.
He settles enough that his own mind starts to drift, his eyes closing to the dim light of the room. The only sound of the room was the last dying embers of the fire and Alys's steadying breathing. He thinks her asleep after not too long until she whispers gently against his arm, "I'm glad you didn't go with the prince." She says it so quiet he wonders if she wants him to even hear it or if she's saying it to herself. "I know you hate staying here, but I would hate having to worry over you against my brother out there." He peaks his eyes open and peers down at her, one of her hands have wrapped gently around his arm, the other is tucked against her face. Her eyes are shut lightly and there is only the slightest bit of worry evident between her brows. He recalls, as the worry fades with sleep, a conversation over chess a week ago upon the princes arrival. She'd asked with hesitance whether he was traveling with the prince, and had gone quiet when he'd voiced his displeasure at not being chosen to go.
He hadn't realized what her quietness had been then. He'd only been wanting to go with the prince to battle, he hadn't considered who he'd be going against, or how Alys would see it. It hadn't mattered in truth to him, all he'd wanted was to fight. To swing his sword with meaning in a battle of blood and power. It didn't matter who he swung that sword against, at least it hadn't.
Now he realized that when he'd mentioned that wish to Alys she'd been thinking of her brother. That that is likely all she thinks of when talk of a battle to come is brought forth. When Rhaegar spoke to her in that garden she'd probably thought about how he'd be leaving to fight her brother. That in a few weeks time they could hear that the prince had killed Eddard Stark.
Perhaps, when the mention of him going to battle came up she was worried about Jaime getting killed, or perhaps she was more worried about him killing her brother. Or perhaps, somehow in some queer way, she was worried about both situations. Perhaps she was grateful that he wouldn't be adding to her list of people to worry after.
It didn't completely abate his bitterness at being left behind in Kings Landing. But it did temper it slightly as his own eyes shut and he drifted off to sleep with the feel of Alys tucked against his arm.
Thank you for reading! Sorry for the long wait but this chapter for whatever reason was a bit hard to write. But hey, it's one of the longest chapters so I hope that makes up for it! I'm hoping to get the next update out quicker.
Thanks for your comments I really appreciate them all and its some of the most motivating stuff.