Alys
Alys is restless that night.
Tossing and turning in her bed for hours before she gives up entirely. Pulling herself up from bed and taking the time to walk over and check in the nursery.
Jon is sound asleep still. Lulled evidently by the storm that was now raging in full over the Blackwater. The sound of thunder distant enough that it was barely muffled booms in the distance. Alys settles over Jons bassinet, hands resting on the wood as she looks down and watches the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
She doesn't regret him. She won't ever let herself regret him.
She just wishes…
Her eyes shut and she can recall very clearly the pleading look upon Jaimes face. The desperate way he'd asked her to try.
What was there for her to try?
She'd meant what she'd said. If she married Jaime she would be risking Jon as Tywin Lannister would never stand for a bastard that was not even of his own blood in his household.
Jon was in enough risk, just by the nature of his true blood and of the secret of his birth.
He didn't need that added threat upon him.
But if there was some way to keep him safe and have Jaime...
Alys halts that train of thought. Lets out a steadying breath and runs a gentle hand over Jon before leaving him to his sleep.
He'd need it. She'd had worries before over how he'd fare with travel, he was so young and travel was hard enough as is. She wanted him as well as possible before they left, a thing that would be even sooner now.
She walks towards her bed at first but just stares at it rather than climbs within.
Thunder echoes in the muffled distance and she knows there is little chance of sleep for her tonight.
Alys walks from her room, walking along the empty halls of the Maiden Vault. She follows familiar paths and slowly makes her way until she comes before a familiar door.
She rests her hand upon it. She can't really remember what she'd thought when she'd first seen it, so lost in grief and numb from loss. She breathes slowly and pushes it open glancing within to the empty and dark confines of what had once been her room, even her prison in some ways.
Ward and hostage.
Windowless it had felt so stifled at first. Those first few days she can recall in a haze of blended time, grief and agony burning through her as she tried to grapple with what would come next.
She walks within, stepping deeper into the dark space, lit only by the torchlight of the hall outside.
It had never been a good room, never a room that felt like home. It was never hers, never a place she felt truly secure or safe.
She walks, and stops before the bed. Running a hand along the comforter.
Except here. On this bed. With Jaime beside her.
She missed that still. She forces it from her mind often, the longing for the comfort he had granted when he'd started sleeping beside her in the nights. The missing weight at her side, the absent sight and smell of him in her bed.
She looks upon the bed. There is no sign of them there. Months and months have passed since she'd laid in this bed with him.
Months and months.
Not since the night of the seige. That last night, with the smell of the ocean and sand between them.
She wishes she'd known then, the truth of her feelings. The wishes and wants she held.
Perhaps then…
She halts those thoughts as well, bunching her palms tightly against the fabric.
It was best to not ponder on the would have beens. She could get lost in that all if she did. The what ifs over every bit of her last few years. What if she'd stopped Lyanna? What if she'd cautioned Brandon? What if… What if…
She pushes away from the bed. Leaves it to the dark and quiet confines. A memory of the only bit of bliss she'd truly known here in Kings Landing.
She pushes it away. Because she must.
Even as she wishes… even as she longs.
She returns to her room, and lays in her bed with the sound of thunder and the haunt of what if…
And sleep does not ever truly come that night.
Jaime
He doesn't see Alys the next day.
Whether that was because she was avoiding him or he was avoiding her, he wasn't sure. But he doesn't.
No rather he spends the whole of the day in the training yard, rain be damned, swinging his sword at several of his fathers guards. Most of them looking rather miserable, both from the rain and from Jaimes consistent slams of the sword against them.
He goes on and on with it, well after most of the guardsmen have tapped out and he's left with just wooden dummies to swing his sword at. The rain stops near the evening, but the clouds linger in such a way that lends to his mood.
Its after he's missed dinner that Tyrion comes to him.
"You're sulking." His brother reports as he comes to sit on one of the few dry spots of bench along the training yard walls.
"I'm not." Jaime responds, rather sulkily, as he swings his sword with a large grunt, hitting it against the dummy and sending straw stuffing falling in a pile to the floor.
"You are," Tyrion says, "the question I hold is why? You won the tourney yesterday, crowned a woman you are clearly infatuated with, and seemed in general good spirits when I last saw you."
"Then perhaps you're not as insightful as you believe yourself to be." Jaime puts the sword away, walking over to Tyrion and frowning at him.
"Or something happened after you left the feast the evening before that lead to this mood of yours."
"Perhaps something did," Jaime glares out at nothing, "but it none of your business."
"I'm assuming it was Alys, as you left rather conveniently about the same time she was making her exit." Tyrion barrels on in his deductions of Jaimes mood source. His brother always liked flaunting his mind and insightfulness. Jaime didn't really have the mood for it today, but he also didn't have the will to fight it off either. "You also spent most of the feast paying her mind more than anything else. So if it wasn't something to do with all that I'd be surprised."
"Can you finish, I'd like to find some wine and food before I force myself to sleep." He wasn't tired, too sour in mood to be tired, but he also hadn't slept the night before. He'd spent most of it listening to the thunder and wishing he could either have Alys beside him or that he'd ran his sword through Ned Stark.
One more than the other though.
"I also noticed Ned Stark leave not long after you." Tyrion was studying Jaime now. "And I don't imagine one of fathers guards would have dared injure you in that sort of way." He motions to the light bit of bruising left behind by Jaimes altercation with Ned Stark the night before. "Ned Stark also hadn't looked too pleased at both the tourney when you crowned his sister, nor during the feast. Really he looked far more stone faced and miserable than usual."
"Again," Jaime grumbles, arms crossing over himself. "I'd like you to hurry this up please."
"I imagine he's refused to give any sort of blessing over you courting his sister." Tyrion states.
"You would be correct, can we move on?"
"And Alys doesn't seem the type to defy family."
Jaime frowns further. A pang of something akin to grief in him at the reminder, it wasn't just Ned that had told him no.
Alys had. All while saying she wished it were different. If she truly wished it though, why couldn't they?
"It is what it is." Jaime frowns. "Perhaps for the best." He glances at the Red Keep. "Maybe I'll stay here. Don that white cloak and succumb to the inevitable future as the Kingsguard to the mighty Robert Baratheon." His voice drips with disdain and Tyrion now frowns.
"You don't sound keen on that idea."
Jaime had given that path up. Chosen another. Hoped for another.
And that had been swept away from him.
It had been only the knowledge that Robert inhabited Cersei's bed that kept him from finding his way to it after hours of no sleep. Well, mostly that.
"What is it bout her?" Tyrion inquires. "I'll admit, I have never really seen you this way about a girl."
There had never been a girl. Only Cersei. Only his twin, his other half.
And now Alys. Who it seemed he could not have any more than he could truly have Cersei.
"Jaime?" Tyrion inquires.
And in a moment of tired lack of will Jaime answers as candidly as he dares. "She's entirely too kind for her own good, a bit naive at first glance though in truth she's rather practical. And far too good at seeing me through." Jaime shifted, Tyrion had begun smirking far too much for his comfort. "And well, she is fair to look at. The whole tourney debacle made her sister known as the beauty of the North, and while I'm not about to speak ill of the dead, I know that term could have just as easily been bestowed upon Alys." He frowns, "and I enjoy her company. Far more than I would have ever expected to."
And he only sleeps peacefully whens sharing her bed, and he hasn't slept well in months.
He doesn't add that. He was baring far more outwardly to his brother than he was ever comfortable with. And while he was aware that Tyrion believed him to have shared a bed with Alys enough to produce a child, that last bit of information seemed far too personal. Far too important to chance it being spread about and misinterpreted.
"And she has your son." Tyrion added himself, no longer just hinting but full believing the lack of answer Jaime had once given him as confirmation.
And like he doesn't give the information of his and Alys's previous tendency to sleep in the same bed, he doesn't give the confirmation to Tyrion's assumption. But he also does not need to, his silence is interpreted well enough and he has already accepted leaning into the rumors at least when confronted with them.
"None of my feelings her direction, or hers mine, matter much in the end though." Jaime responds instead, a lace of bitterness through his tone he doesn't bother to mask. "Lord Stark," his tone only increases in bitterness at the thought of Ned Stark, "would never approve any sort of match, I'd be surprised if he would approve me even being released from the Kingsguard. Marrying his sister is entirely out of the picture." A fact Alys is well aware of, to his own dismay, and is far too unwilling to fight.
And Jon, he reminds himself. The bastard she's taken upon herself to mother and claim. That was a barrier. The boys safety.
She hadn't been wrong to think that he'd be unsafe in Casterly Rock. But Jaime had still wished she'd never claimed the boy in the first place.
"Even with her son?"
"What about her son?" Jaime asks, lost a bit on where Tyrion was leading.
"Is marrying her entirely out of the picture, even with accounting the child between you two?"
Jaime pauses, and his mind whirrs with the thought.
"That would not fix anything." Jaime says, only half-hearted though as his mind thinks it over.
"Would Ned Stark really refuse?" Tyrion inquires, a clever smile upon his lips.
"Father might."
"Father wishes an heir." Tyrion shrugs, a bit bitterness lingering in the back of his voice but ultimately near undetectable.
"Ned Stark would still never…"
"Perhaps," Tyrion smiles is a way that means he thinks himself brilliant, "or perhaps his hands would be tied with it."
Jaime shakes his head, sighing and running a hand over his face. He was tired, the lack of sleep finally catching up with him and the general exhaustion of his emotions faltering his thoughts.
"I need wine." Jaime finally settles on. "And sleep."
"Wine and sleep." Tyrion repeats. "Well, lets go then." He glances up. "I don't trust these clouds to not start pouring again."
Jaime nods, and follows Tyrion within the Red Keep. His thoughts still slugging through the last bit of possibility
What if there was a way, and this was it?
His father requests his presence for breakfast.
So Jaime, after another night of restless sleep, finds his way to his fathers rooms and sits down at the small table to break his fast and endure his fathers scrutiny.
His worry over what his father has to discuss with him increases when he arrives and finds it to be just the pair of them.
Jaime sits across his father, starts picking at the pieces of breakfast before him. His father is looking at a letter, quietly and without paying Jaime even a bit of mind. He wouldn't until he was ready, until he deemed it time.
Tywin Lannister finally set the letter aside, looked up to Jaime with sharp green eyes, and spoke clearly. "I require honesty from you, not any less." His voice is stern, clear, and as authoritative as Jaime had always heard it. "What is your relation to the Stark girl?"
Jaime had known this line of questioning would come some day. Since his first few conversations with his father about Alys early on after the siege. It was well enough known around Kings Landing that Jaime and Alys were close, well enough rumored that Jaime had fathered her bastard, and he imagines that after the tourney the other day his father has now reached his limit as guessing and is demanding the truth.
But Jaime can not give the truth. Not as it really stands. He can not say he cares for her but can not have her, his father will view that as weakness. And he can not say her child is not his, not really, as he's resolved to let the rumors play as they will and if he informs his father of such he will stomp down on the last legs of them.
But Jaime also can't give a non-answer as he has with Tyrion. His father won't accept it, won't allow it.
Honesty, that was what he required.
Jaime thinks of the conversation with Tyrion the night before. Thinks of the empty space in bed beside him and thinks of the restless night spent wondering over where one particular path would lead him.
He looks to his father, and takes a step down it.
"I'm sure you've heard the rumors," Jaime takes a bite of his food.
"I want the truth, not some ladies whispers."
"I'm sure you've heard plenty of other whispers, beyond that of courtly gossip."
Tywin had a look to his face that meant he was tired of Jaime's sidestepping, that he wouldn't allow it further. And when he spoke his tone lent to that as well, "is the bastard yours?"
Jaime pauses, taking care to drink as he does. Making his pause seem more like he's messing with his father as he's often want to do, when really its nerves. This is a step he cannot undo, if he does it. If he follows it, his father will push it onwards. The path will become a hill and Jaime will start his tumble down it.
Alys wanted Jon safe from Tywin Lannister.
Tywin Lannister wants an heir.
"I've shared her bed, and as far as I'm aware no other has." Jaime swallows, tilts his chin to show no shame. It was the truth, at least in the vaguest sense of it, but he knew his father wanted certainty. So Jaime finally speaks it, "Yes, he is."
Tywin gazes at him, scrutinizing and cold. Green eyes filled with decades of scheming and planning looking at this information and deducing where best to utilize it.
It put distaste in Jaimes mouth, the thought of his father using Alys as a pawn.
But he drank some more and washed it out.
"I would like to marry her, to claim him," Jaime continues. "But Ned Stark won't have it."
Tywin's head cocked, obviously showing some surprise at his sons candor. Jaime hadn't shown any wish to leave the Kingsguard before this moment, any willingness to return to his spot as heir of Casterly Rock.
And now he was.
Tywin states. "Jon Arryn has already expressed willingness to release you from your vows. And the High Septon will allow it as well both in consideration of your final acts as a Kingsguard and after I arrange a suitable gift to the Faith."
"I'll only leave the Kingsguard if it is Alys I wed," Jaime states, not wishing to give his father any leeway to force him some other route.
"You said yourself Ned Stark won't…"
"I never imagined you to be one to balk before another Lord, let alone a Stark." Jaime looks to his father tauntingly, and shrewd eyes narrow his way.
"If he doesn't…"
"Then perhaps I'll don a cloak of black instead." Jaime threatens with a sharp smile. "So perhaps you should work hard to be certain he does."
Tywin looks to his son, and Jaime can feel its one of those rare moments where perhaps he is not disappointed. Annoyed, to be certain, that his son is not bending as easily as he'd will him to. But also not disappointed, as Jaime had never been one for underhanded tactics of bargaining. Jaime had always faced problems head on, and he will, later. But for now, with his father, this must be assured.
He did not want to follow this path if it did not end with Alys.
Tywin nods finally, dismissing the conversation to its end. And Jaime sits as leisurely as he can as he finishes his breakfast, even as nerves tangle within over whether the next step will go so well.
Alys
Jon babbles, reaching for the bit of leaf she'd grabbed down for him. She smiles as his hand gripped and pulled at the leaf, and the way he babbled happily when it tore with his hand.
The Godswood was empty, as she was well used to especially early in morning. And she felt drawn here more so as she knew that her time was limited in this space that had been a respite for her.
It wasn't a weirwood, but it was something. Some place of peace that she had found amongst so much grief and fear.
She looks over the tree, large and sprawling. And lets a small little prayer run through her mind, for her future, for Jons. For Jaimes.
"He really is quite the cute child," Alys turned, startled at the sound of the new Queens voice behind her.
She lowers herself in a bow, "Your Grace." She greets, rising and looking to Cersei who watched her with something nearing amusement. Though Alys swore she saw something bitter to it.
"How old is he again?"
Alys shifts Jon in her grasp, and looks to him as he plays with the bit of leaf. "Six months about." About five, was the truth, but Alys had confessed to giving birth in Sunspear just near two months after leaving Kings Landing, an early birth even to explain the timing that would be needed.
"And you really travelled all the way to Dorne, pregnant with him?"
"It was not easy." Alys smiles tentatively. "But I had to help my friend, and… well I was scared. It was getting harder to hide."
"I imagine that also must have been hard," Cersei stepped closer, peering at Jon with a sharp gaze. "You were in such a precarious position here, a hostage. And then suddenly a pregnant one at that."
"None of my time in Kings Landing has been easy until recently." Alys acquiesces.
"And his father?" Cersei inquires, just as she had the first time Alys had met her. But Alerie was not here to redirect the conversation.
"Not involved," Alys states carefully.
"Hmm." Cersei responds, looking closer still at Jon and Alys feels worry coil within her.
But Jon it seems is willing to offer some assistance, as the leaf drops from his grasp in order for him to rub at his eyes. He yawns and Alys thinks a prayer to the gods for making him sleepy in that moment.
"I should get him down for a nap," She bows again before Cersei, and offers her courtesies. "I do hope to see you again soon, Your Grace, before my departure in a few weeks time."
"Likewise, Lady Alys." Though the way the Queen says it Alys feels that it is far from the truth.
Alys walks from the Godswood, and holds Jon snug against her. Worried that she knows exactly what it was the Queen was searching for, and worried at what she might find instead.
Perhaps Ned was right after all, Kings Landing was becoming far too dangerous for Jon and the sooner they were safe from its whispers the better.
That thought didn't stop the bit of ache she had about what she'd be leaving.
Jaime
Lord Stannis is nearing Dragonstone apparently. Moving his ships despite the storm only a few days past.
And the King was bristling with the anticipation of it.
He jeered and cheered over the soon to be end of the Targaryens. Barring the little girl he's renamed and was sending North.
Jaime lingers about the court during these days of anticipation. The whole of the Red Keep anxiously awaiting news that Dragonstone has been claimed by the new rulers of the Seven Kingdoms.
He doesn't care much for the news of Dragonstone, rather he is waiting for something else. Some other opportunity to arise for him.
It comes during a dinner one night, a feast not quite the revelry of the wedding or tourney but still full with court goers. With Ned Stark sat with his sister, and the King at the head table.
Jaime eats his food, sips his wine. And waits.
Early enough that no one is too drunk, but far enough in that plenty are present he walks before the King.
He bows, lower than he ever has for Robert.
Robert looked amused. Beside him Cersei eyed Jaime skeptically, and he pushed his feelings surrounding her far into the back of his mind. He knows she wasn't pleased the day of the tourney. She'll be even less pleased today.
Jon Arryn watches him, perhaps thinking he was coming to swear his sword and redon his cloak.
"Your Grace," Jaime speaks, faking reverence and respect as he stands straight before Robert. "There is a matter I wish to address, if you will." He hates it, speaking with Robert as though he cared for this king. He didn't care for any king, not after the shattering of his fantasies of it all with Aerys. Robert was far from the Mad King, but Jaime was still uncertain whether he would be a good one in the end.
Robert examines him, enjoyment in his gaze, "speak freely, Kingslayer." His tone is light like laughter and Jaime represses a frown at the title.
"I know the topic of my status as a Kingsguard has been of some wide debate." Jaime starts, "one that your advisors have disagreed upon."
"And your father," Robert points out. "You are quite the thorn in my side."
"Well I wish to remove myself from your side then," Jaime responds. "If you grant it I would like to be released from my vows as Kingsguard and return as my fathers heir."
The court was silent. Even the bard that had been singing for the crowd gone silent. Jaime had the eyes upon him.
Ned Stark was near the front table, Jaime had chosen to walk up specifically when he would be so.
Robert glances to Lord Arryn, his hand and likely the man he trust most for advisement. Robert nods and shrugs all at once and Arryn now addresses Jaime, "we had come to the decision that you could return to your post, if that was what you wished. If not, then we are willing to release you on account of your breaking of the vows with your previous King."
Breaking of the vows, what a pleasant way to say he'd stabbed the man he'd been sword to through the back.
Jaime didn't know if he preferred the sugar coating or the Kingslayer.
"I pardon you as well," Robert speaks, after a look from Lord Arryn. "For the loyalty you showed Aerys." Robert smiled with jest to his face, "and the disloyalty I suppose." He laughs and Jaime gives a forced grin.
"I thank you, Your Grace." He forces out with a slight bow of his head.
Robert nods, and Jaime takes a slow breath. From the corner of his eye he looks to Alys, sat watching him with a curious look to her eyes.
He steeled himself, and straightened once more. "There is another bit of dishonor that I would like to remedy as well."
Robert glanced at him, curiosity and interest clear to his face. "Yes?"
"I would like to claim the bastard of Alys Stark as my son."
This was a chapter I've been looking forward to for a long time and am very excited to share! Thank you all for reading, we're getting into the final stretch of this fic (though there is still plenty of chapters left, plus the GoT-era sequel in the future), and it's always baffling to me how far I've gotten with this.
Again just want to thank you all for the wonderful comments I always get on this fic and please do continue to share your thoughts with me as they always just absolutely make my day.