Jaime
Burn them all.
Burn them all.
Burn them—
Jaime wakes, the echoes of his dream still haunting through his mind even as he stares into his morning lit room. He runs a rough hand over his face, scrubbing it as the nightmare, that hardly even counts as a nightmare with how much truth there is to it, lingers in the dark of his mind.
He lets out a dragged breath as his head lolls over to look at the expanse of empty space still beside him in bed.
Perhaps he was a bit of a fool, to think that with a declaration and a betrothal he'd suddenly be granted restful nights again. To think that with that all out of the way Alys would be beside him again and he'd be free from the screams of a maddened king and the smell of burnt flesh stuck eternally in his nostrils.
The space was still empty, and his nights were still restless.
And it had been almost a fortnight now since his declaration and subsequent betrothal. But there was no Alys in his bed, there wasn't even really much Alys outside of it. Honestly there was less than there had been before he'd claimed the bastard and secured their future.
He wanted to say he understood. He wanted to say he was fine with it. With the distance that Alys had asked for, the time.
But oh Gods is he loathing it.
He misses her, even though he sees her on occasion still as they are both in Kings Landing and there have been moments where they've both been present when discussions were had over the rapidly approaching trip north.
He doesn't even know how she feels about his joining of that trip. Is she happy? Mad?
Jaime hasn't a clue.
A part of him, the part that likes to lie to make himself feel better, says she's just busy. Spending time with the Tyrells before both parties depart in separate directions. Spending time with Elia, the woman who Alys had practically committed treason for and thus had every reason to want to spend as much time with before they parted ways.
So she's certainly busy. With all the getting ready to leave, with all the goodbyes.
But another part of him, the part that likes to be honest with himself no matter how blunt, says she's never had trouble making time for him before. This part likes to recall the thread of anger that had been throughout their last real talk, the talk that ended with her saying she needed time.
The dour pessimistic side of him wonders if this is what his future will be. If through his plan to get Alys's hand in marriage he damned any chance of them holding the relationship he really truly wants with her. If he'll spend the rest of his life married to her, but with her holding this distance because he started this marriage by doing something he knew she'd disagree with if he had told her ahead of time.
It leads him to spend a lot of time worrying if she'd only just been saying that she trusted his honor, if perhaps that was just a lie to make him feel better and in truth she thought him as honorless as all the rest.
That thought made his heart feel like it was ripped from his chest every time it crossed his mind.
And it was crossing his mind a lot.
He tries to empty his mind of this all by his usual methods. Swinging his sword against any willing opponents until he's sweaty and half mad with exhaustion. But for once even that fails to draw his mind from the swirling thoughts that plague him.
There is near a week before he is to be traveling northward upon a ship with Alys, and the idea of that journey being filled with this silence, this distance, is far too much to think about. He hates even more the thought that crosses his mind that Oberyn Martell will be aboard this ship as well as he chaperones his niece safely northwards, a man that Alys is not avoiding and seems to always enjoy taunting Jaime over any bit of his relationship with her.
Jaime dreads the ship.
But he hopes, some small part of him that is still capable of that task, that it will be the thing to break the distance.
Plus, he can not help but think leaving Kings Landing will be good regardless. It won't be Alys in his bed, but perhaps the distance will draw some of the ghosts of his mind away.
He wanders a bit, these last several days before leaving. He walks the halls and the paths, the towers and the walls. He remembers following behind a hunched man in a golden crown of dragons, blood dripping from picked scabs and whispers of burn them all echoing through the stone.
He remembers standing guard as horrors occur. And on one day where he passes the Great Hall he remembers the way the blood had dripped down the stone dais, had pooled and seeped into the stone where ashes of all the burned have fallen.
He remembers sparring with the Sword of the Morning at he break of dawn, the older knight always laughing when Jaime would curse and demand another after being battered down over and over. He remembers the White Bull showing him his name written in the White Book after the tourney of Harrenhal, the still shining pride Jaime had felt to see it there amongst the others of history. He remembers nights listening to Barristan and Darry and Lewyn telling tales of old battles and Jaime listening closely, studying it all.
He pauses at the door of the White Sword Tower, no longer marred from his anger the night before Cersei's wedding. He presses his hand against it, this place that had been his fate once. His life and future.
His vow.
He swallows and pushes through it. He wants to see it before leaving, why he hasn't a single idea, but he wants to.
It's quiet through the tower. While Barristan was no longer the sole knight to don the cloak, Robert slowly filling the roles as weeks pass by, but none of the new brothers were within at the moment. Attending their duties, Jaime supposes. Far better ones than he had ever had to suffer, no guarding mad kings or screaming queens.
Jaime frowns before shaking it away and walking further in the the round room. His eyes drag along the whitewashed stone of the walls, glancing over the hearth and the shield and swords mounted above it. He walks until he reaches the large table in the center.
Weirwood carved in the shape of a shield, white stallions carved in the wood to support the table. Two sets of three chairs sits on each side of the shield, and at the top of the shield the Lord Commanders chair rests. Old black oak that Jaime had always thought the White Bull had fit perfectly. He wonders if Barristan feels as though he fits it as well.
As if summoned by thought a familiar voice sounds behind him, "Ser Jaime."
"Lord Commander," Jaime responds, the slightest bow of his head for respect as he turns to look at the older man.
Jaime hasn't crossed paths much with Barristan since the older knight returned to Kings Landing. Jaime wasn't sure if that was his avoidance or Barristan, the two had almost just been passing each other in the slow easy avoidance of ships on the water going out of their way to stay out of reach.
Barristan seemed even older than he had been when he'd departed Kings Landing all those many months ago. More lines on his face, perhaps from the stress of battle and injury or perhaps simply the weight of all that had happened. Of being the one left.
But the starkest difference, Jaime finds, is the mans eyes as they look his way with not the pale blue look of kind regard that Jaime had found upon swearing his vow and donning his cloak.
No the pale blue now holds a sharp look to it, steel prepared for blood, and under it the even sharper look of betrayal.
Jaime can't help it, he chuckles. His head shaking and glances around, "it's a hollow honor after all that I imagine."
"What are you on about?" Barristan asks, guarded entirely. So different, Jaime thinks, of a man who spoke his own worries with Jaime and offered thin reassurances over them openly.
He reaches towards the man, who's hand flexes on his sword where it has stayed, and takes a bit of the white cloak between his fingers dragging them down the fabric to feel the softness of it. Unmarred, Jaime thinks. "Lord Commander," he restates, "a hollow honor, as who else was there to take up that title." His voice is bitter, and behind it he knows lies the hidden thread of grief.
But Barristan is either too betrayed to hear it or simply does not care to, for he steps back. "Be careful of your words, Ser Jaime, as you know very little of honor."
"I imagine I know more than most actually," Jaime remarks, "tell me, what honor would Aerys or Rhaegar find in you serving as Lord Commander for the man who usurped them?"
Barristans jaw flexes, but his eyes shut for a moment before reopening with a new calmness. "Leave this tower," he says firmly, "as there is no place for you within it anymore, Kingslayer."
"What a king he was," Jaime bitterly remarks, but he moves for the door. "I wonder though," he glances back, "how you would have fared if you'd been the one left to mind him."
He leaves Barristan there, and with him he leaves the hollow honors of the Kingsguard behind.
Alys
Alys didn't often find herself in the library of the Red Keep.
Not out any hatred of books or reading, she had quite the opposite opinion always having loved books and finding much peace in reading when granted the time for it. But rather because she rarely had the time to get lost in the tall shelves full of books collected over many centuries of the keeps existence.
It was a larger library than that of Winterfells, which she'd never thought of as small but the winding tower library of Winterfell was only a fraction of the size of the more expansive section of the castle in Kings Landing.
Perhaps, she figures, that was why she hadn't often found herself here. Too many options and a very likely possibility of just getting lost in them all. Though also her time was often compelled elsewhere. Before the sack she had been far more compelled to pray than to read. And after, well she was often in the company of others, or busy with Jon.
So, as her days left in the capitol dwindle steadily towards an end she finds herself here amongst the vast collection of books one quiet afternoon.
She'd spent much of the last week saying her own sorts of goodbyes to the keep. And while the library wasn't a place she had spent significant time in, she still felt like bidding it a parting and finally exploring it's winding depths.
Her hands trail along the old leather spines, eyeing the titles and occasionally spotting a book or two she had read over her time here. Books brought to her by Aleah early on in her captivity to pass the time, to distract. She sighs and pulls one out, a book filled with lighthearted tales of a southern knight that she'd read after the tourney for Aerys. She flips the pages and remembers spending near two days curled up with this, Aleah asking her thoughts on the tales and sharing her own in return.
Alys shuts her eyes a moment, remembering the day on the parapets. The sight of her friends head, killed for spying, possibly because of her. She remembers it, and shuts the book with it.
Grief was familiar by now, etched to her bones and woven through her soul. She would carry it, the grief for Aleah, for her father, for Brandon and Lyanna. Older grief for her mother, who she'd cared for until death, was the starting threads but not the bulk of it.
Alys only hoped that it would be a long, long, time before more grief found its way to her.
She shelves the book, tucking it back amongst the others delicately before continuing onwards. When she does she finds someone else lost amongst the stacks.
Tyrion sat at a small table, a stack of books nearby and one particular one open before him that he reads rather determinedly. Alys smiles softly, Jaime had mentioned a long while ago when they were first becoming friends that her brother was very fond of reading.
As she nears she tries to pass quietly, not wanting to disturb him but he seems to be more aware of his surroundings than she would have been in the same situation and remarks. "The fact that you are here in the library of your own free will bares well for my brother."
She pauses, and creeps nearer. "How so?"
"Jaime has always hated reading," Tyrion glances up, "my theory is that it is because he struggled with it when he first started out, though do not tell him I told you that he'd hate for you to think he was an idiot."
"Jaime is not an idiot."
"Then he fares even better to have a future wife who thinks so kindly of him." Tyrion says it with a grin clearly in jest.
"He's not an idiot, he's very smart and can be clever." Alys defends further.
"Yes, though he really should use all that much more than he does," Tyrion shrugs, "he's always preferred solving problems with direct force."
Alys frowns and shifts where she stands, "yes I've noticed."
Tyrion is studying her and she glances away, peering at the stack of books he's chosen to read. "Northern tales and histories?" She questions.
"I doubted Jaime would endeavor to study them, but I was curious."
"You could always ask me about it," she responds, lifting one book and flipping through spotting familiar names strewn through out its ink. "Especially as I will be living rather within reach."
"Not for a few months still," Tyrion says, "and I was curious now, right before you and my brother journey north." He sounds slightly bitter over it.
"You could join if you'd like," she offers gently, setting the book back down. "The library at Winterfell has plenty of tomes with histories, and stories, and the like."
Tyrion frowns, "I asked already, my father disagreed with my argument that it would be a good experience for me. I will be returning to Casterly Rock instead."
"Well," Alys taps her fingers against the wood of the table, "perhaps then you could do me a favor and pick out some books there for when I arrive?" He glances her way, curiosity raising his brow. "I was taught basic histories of course, as any highborn girl would be, but if I am to marry into House Lannister and live in the Westerlands I should have a deeper knowledge than that I think."
Tyrion studies her a moment longer before laughing and nodding enthusiastically, "Jaime truly lucked out indeed, he'll have you to do all the reading and studying." He smiles further and nods again, "and it seems I have fared well for a good-sister, as I will have someone to share my books with."
Alys smiles back at the younger boy, and sits herself down at his table pulling a book towards her and skimming through. Tyrion questions her on his own reading, and Alys finds herself soothed as the afternoon passes.
It proves a nice break, to the goodbyes, to the farewells. And it gives her a small hopeful glimpse of what will lie ahead of her.
In less than two days she will be leaving Kings Landing.
And not for the reason she had before. Not in secret, in danger.
But to go home. To the North where family waits, to reunite and to be buried where they were born.
And she will be leaving Kings Landing, a part of her hopes it will be for a good long time.
She doesn't hate the city, it would seem foolish thing to her to hate place. It was not the city itself that caused her grief. But still, there is a certain weight that lies upon her heart here that she hopes will drift away as she sails northward.
She is sentimental though, has always been, and so she spends these last days bidding farewell not to just people but to the place itself.
And that is how she finds her way to the Godswood. She's had less reason to visit since the war ended, but this is the last of her visits so it feels right to go later in the evening at dusk. When the wooded paths will be empty and the heart tree alone.
Or, mostly alone.
She sees Jaime stood staring at the large oak tree with some indecipherable look to his eyes.
She thinks it may be longing, and she feels a pang of guilt burn through her.
Keeping her distance these last few weeks have been both good and bad. It's helped the bit of anger she'd felt at his going behind her back to claim Jon start to melt away. It's nearly entirely gone, dissolved and lost to the air.
But she's also missed him, she can't help it this way she misses him.
Somehow, someway, Jaime Lannister has woven himself into her heart.
She can't bring herself to mind it, or to wish it unwoven.
No matter what anger she felt his way.
She moves forward towards the tree quietly, but Jaime's head tilts in such a way that she knows he's heard her. He's stood stiffly, as though poised to leave if she asked it of him. She doesn't ask it of him.
Stepping into the spot beside him she glances over the clearing that houses the heart tree. She looks the benches where she had sat both alone and with others. With Jaime playing chess, or Aleah before her death, and more recently with Jon. The two of them stand nearly exactly where she would typically kneel to pray, countless days and hours spent praying for her family.
She glances to Jaime who hasn't looked at her, though she can tell just a little that he wishes to. He has something in his hands that he's fiddling with, some square of white cloth with a deep brown red dashed over it. He tucks it away after a moment.
They stand in the quiet. The setting sun casting them in the hue of orange dusk glow, and a slight breeze occasionally brushing through the branches above them. Alys ponders what to say, as she feels almost like something should be said to fill this silence.
Jaime evidently finds his words before her.
"You've never asked me."
Her brow furrows, and she turns more towards him, "asked you what?"
He doesn't meet her gaze, "why I killed Aerys." Its stated plainly, simply, and laced with the tension she can only imagine has been strained with the way others whisper kingslayer and make jokes of his honor and vow breaking.
She takes a steady breath and faces him entirely now, "I have never needed to." She states it with imploring honesty, she does not want him to ever worry over her trust of him.
"No? Why not?" he asks, still not facing her but she can see his eyes flicker her way for just a moment. "All the others I get," his voice is strained, bitter, "they've filled in their reasonings and have no care for what I would say of it, not that I even care to clear them up. They can think what they will." He stops, a harsh breath escaping him. "But you…" he looks, just barely her way, "what reasonings have you filled for it?"
She can see it, how deeply he worries over her thinking of him in the same way the rest of court does. The way her brother does. That he was honorless, that his word was nothing. It pains her to even consider it, because that is not him.
She knows deeply it isn't, as it does not fit with the man she knows and who has found his way so deeply in her affections. The man who never lied to her about the situation she had found herself in even if it was harsh to hear, the man who kept her company when all the rest looked away, the man who held her as she fell apart again and again over the tragedies and griefs that had hit her.
The man who she had held as he was torn by the vows he had sworn.
The man who makes her laugh, and who makes her feel safe, and who she can sleep so soundly by she wonders how she'd ever gotten a good nights sleep before him and she has certainly struggled since.
The man, she realizes with a sudden and beautiful certainty, that she loves with her very soul.
She reaches for him, hand on his arm and pulling until he looks at her fully now. "I trust you, Jaime," she says with the full breadth of that love. "And I like to think I know you well," she pulls her hand down his arm until she can lace her fingers with his, bringing them up to her. "I know your honor, as I know you." His eyes don't meet her own, instead staring at where she holds him. "I know that you would not have done what you did for any reason that was not just or right. And because of that I have no need for the specifics unless you need me to know," she brings his hand further and presses her lips lightly to it before finishing, "for your own sake, not mine."
She doesn't let him go, and he doesn't pull away. He stares at their hands for long stretching seconds of silence and Alys lets him.
"I am sorry," he remarks, now glancing up to her eyes to meet them. "I should have spoken with you before I claimed Jon."
She offers a small smile, because she does love Jaime and she is still, though it is nearly gone, the barest bit angry over that action. And both can be true, she thinks, anger can exist with love. She thinks perhaps it can sometimes burn the strongest with love.
But really, she is tired of anger, of grief, or all those dark and draining emotions that have been with her since Lyanna ran off, since her father and brother were burned.
"It is the past," she says gently, "and I think, I would much rather leave it there and put my attentions on the future instead."
Jaime swallows heavily and nods, "I think that would be wonderful."
"Good," her smile grows and she uses her free hand to caress his cheek gently before moving closer slowly to brush her lips lightly over his. It was a soft kiss, an almost timid one, but it blooms with warmth through her and when she drops away Jaime looks far less troubled.
She turns back to the heart tree, her hand still in Jaimes, and softly sighs. "I think I will miss it, just a bit."
"Even though its not a real heart tree," he remarks, a bit of that known jest she has grown fond of back in his voice.
She nods, "it is not a weirwood, and I look forward to being able to pray before one again at Winterfell, but it has been here all the same." She reaches out and uses her free hand to brush over the thick bark of the heart tree. "So I will miss it." She lets her hand drop away from the wood and looks up to Jaime, her goodbye done, "will you walk me to my room?"
Jaime nods and the two start down the paths away from the old tree. "Well," he remarks after a bit, "I doubt it will be the same as what you grew up with, but there is a weirwood in the Godswood at Casterly Rock, granted it is in a cave, but it's there all the same." She glances at him and can see he's looking for her approval, and she smiles.
"I'm sure it is lovely," she says, "I'm sure it all is." She thinks about it, Casterly Rock. She hasn't thought on it since they were actually betrothed, she hasn't had the time nor has she wished it. Too muddled with the thin twist of feelings Jaime's declaration had caused.
She thinks on it now, this place that will become her home.
Before the war and things changing so drastically she had always known that Winterfell would not be her home forever. That someday she would marry and go live the rest of her days in the home of whoever her husband was. She'd never known who that would be, and so she hadn't spent her time wondering on it. She'd preferred focusing on what was before her, on making the most of the time she had in her childhood home, amongst her family.
Then the war had happened and all she'd wanted was Winterfell, was her family and home. And for a bit, after claiming Jon, she'd expected that that would be all she had from then on.
Now, now she was back to that original expectation. But it was different still, because she knew who she was marrying, where she'd be going.
Casterly Rock.
A far cry she imagined from what she knew of home.
But as she looks at Jaime, who has this look like he so wishes for her to love it, she knows she will come to learn it as home. She has to, and she wants to.
So as they walk the halls they had walked so often, she asks "tell me more about it all, about Casterly Rock?"
His green gaze meets her and after a moment he smiles and starts to speak of his home and Alys listens with thoughts of her future amongst it.
Elia
"We could still run away, steal off to a boat and sail east far from the Baratheons grasp."
Elia looks to Oberyn where he leans against the doorway of her room. It was the night before a ship was set to sail north to White Harbor, with Elia's daughter upon it and Elia on a separate one sailing southward.
It was that fact, the looming press of being separated from the child still within her reach, that made her almost want to say yes to Oberyn with full sincerity. To take Rhaenys and run, far from Westeros and it's grief that it has granted her. To run towards her son that she has sent away for fear.
But that is a fantasy she can not linger upon. "And the moment we dock in Essos their will be countless assassins and sell swords waiting to claim whatever price Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister has placed upon her head." Not to mention other dangers, revelations that Elia does not wish brought to light for the new King.
Aegon. She shakes her head away with it, the pain of thinking on him.
"Do you doubt my ability to protect you both?" Oberyn asks, there is some jest to it, some air of arrogance played to make her laugh the way it always had when they were very young. But behind it is that fire Elia is well aware of, that dislike for waiting and preference for facing things with harsh and swift action.
Elia walks to him and presses a gentle hand to his face. "I know you would die if it meant I and my children could live," she smirks a little, "and I know well enough that it would take likely a devastating amount of men to bring you down in that moment."
"In any moment." Oberyn says with confidence.
"But I do not want my child to live so in fear of loss," she says, "of her life or any of those she loves. Not again." She remembers Rhaenys's cries for Rhaegar, some nights a nightmare will bring them out further. "In the North, she will at least be safe for honors sake."
Oberyn frowns but nods, that they at least agreed on. If she could not be in Dorne under the Martells watch, the Starks at least had a sense of honor that would not allow harm to come to a child innocent of any wrong. "Alys will not be there any longer to watch for her," Oberyn does note.
"But she has assured me of Ned Starks honor, and I will trust her in that." Elia glances towards where Rhaenys, in her nightgown ready for sleep, sits before the hearth petting Balerion on her lap. "Besides, we have little choice in it all. The most we can do is hope that plans will work as they should, and this will not be forever."
"Plans," Oberyn shakes his head. "Plans that take years, and leave children in the hands of those outside their family."
"Oberyn," Elia speaks firmly, "it is her last night before a journey, and my last night with her. I would rather it be pleasant than plagued with old arguments that always end the same."
Oberyn frowns, but eventually nods his head before going and sitting beside Rhaenys by the hearth. He speaks with a wide smile and expressive tone as he talks of the ship they will take, of what they will see and what an adventure she'll have. Rhaenys smiles and laughs, as she should be allowed to do.
Elia watches, and feels her heart burn for her daughter.
It is not that she disagrees with Oberyn. She heard Doran's plans, understands them, but she knows there is more she still doesn't know. Doran keeps things close, hidden until the moment it is needed. She understands that of her older brother, but in these moments she loathes it just a little. Just as she had when she had passed Aegon over to Mellario to take him to Essos, at Doran's suggestion, at Doran's planning.
All of it seemed so long to bear.
Elia closes her eyes a moment, and reminds herself of its purpose.
And it's reason.
She wants her children to live. And though a part of her would be happy if they lived and were granted lives of peace and happiness, another part wishes for them to be granted what was stolen away from them.
The life that was stolen away from them. Not just by Robert Baratheon or the Lannisters.
But by their own father and blood.
So she will send them away. She will love them from afar and believe in these plans, even if she does not know it all. Because she wants them to have what they were destined for.
What he promised.
Oberyn leaves after Rhaenys yawns for the third time in a row. And Elia is left with her daughter in the dimming glow of the dying hearth, their last night together slipping slowly away.
"Would you like to sleep with me tonight?" She asks, her heart hoping for a yes and jumping when Rhaenys nods with so much excitement before rushing to climb into Elia's bed.
The fire dims, and Elia holds Rhaenys close to her chest in the dark. "Mama?" Rhaenys whispers into the night.
"Mhm?"
"Lord Ned said the north was cold," Rhaenys shifts under the covers and Elia glances, "is it really cold? What if I freeze?"
Elia smiles as gently as she can, "it is cold, but we have spent a lot of time remember getting you all new clothes to keep you warm."
"But what if it snows, what if their is a lot of it and I get buried and freeze still?" Rhaenys asks further, voice raising with worry.
"You do not need to worry on freezing," Elia soothes, brushing a soft hand over her daughters face, "the northman's have ice in their blood which keeps them from freezing, but you, you have the sun my love. And fire burning deep in you to keep you warm."
Rhaenys pauses, her little brow furrowed in thought. In memory it turns out, "fire and blood. Those are fathers words."
Elia smiles, though she imagines it was a pained one to see, "yes, they were. And though you can not openly claim them now, know in your heart and blood they are yours as well." Elia runs her fingers through Rhaenys's dark hair and adds, "and you are mine as well, and so with it the sun is yours to claim, and my words."
"Unbowed," Rhaenys whispers, memories from her lessons that have her looking up in thought, "unbent."
"And unbroken." Elia finishes with her, "you will survive whatever they throw your way, my love. It is in your blood." She presses a kiss against the crown of Rhaenys's head, "now sleep, you have much ahead of you and you will need the rest."
Rhaenys nods, and snuggles closer to Elia until the only way they would be closer is if they were one. "Mama?" Rhaenys whispers again, with far more sleep seeming to pull at her words. "I'm going to miss you."
Elia looks down at Rhaenys curled into her chest and sees the girls eyes drift shut, and she pulls her closer still. "I am going to miss you too, my love."
And she holds tight to her daughter for the whole of the night until dawn breaks to take her away.
There is a light breeze, a pleasant warmth, and the sound of the ocean.
If it weren't for what was happening Elia would find it all so pleasing to enjoy.
Rhaenys has rushed up and down the docks, Oberyn trailing her so she doesn't get into much trouble before boarding the ship. Elia said her goodbyes to them both already, in the quiet privacy of their room before making the journey to the water.
So she watches from a distance as Oberyn trails the little princess, and smiles with soft sadness as she says another silent goodbye in her mind.
"Elia?" Alys's voice reaches her ears and she turns to see the northern girl standing near. Jon is still in her arms, and Elia smiles lightly as she walks to say goodbye to the younger girl.
"I hope you both have a safe journey," she remarks, "please write often."
"Elia," Alys reaches with a free hand, taking Elia's in hers and squeezing it. There is an apology there in the grey of her eyes, "I know I was meant to be there for Rhaenys, for you."
"You have done more than you were ever required to," Elia soothes, putting her other hand over Alys's and patting it. "I am grateful for that, and I can not begrudge you in truth." She glances to where Jaime Lannister stands, speaking with his father. "Love is a delicate thing, a rare thing, finding it and holding on to it is hard to be angered at."
"Still," Alys says, "I wish I could do more."
"Rhaenys will be safe in the North, under your brothers wardship?" Alys nods, "she will be cared for, and educated, and most importantly alive. So I can't say you didn't do just what I would wish." She glances once more at the Lannisters and steps closer to Alys, "and, take this in no offense, but I would rather her without you in the north than as your ward in the Westerlands." Elia's gaze catches Tywin Lannisters and she looks back to Alys, who frowns. "I know you love Jaime, and I am happy for you in that. But, my dear friend, tread those waters carefully. Tywin Lannister is not a man to be trusted." Alys opens her mouth to speak but Elia shakes her head, "I only warn, and give you the advice to be firm in who you are. For you own sake," Elia looks to Jon who rests in Alys's arms, "and your children's. I tried that as best I could, and still I wish I had done more. So please, take these words and remember them."
Alys nods, "of course."
Elia squeezes Alys's hand once more before stepping away. "I hope to see you again, Alys."
"As I do you, Elia."
Elia is left alone once more, but it is short lived. "There is still time." Oberyn's voice jokes over shoulder, "a mutiny perhaps aboard the ship."
"It is full of northmen, far too much honor to work against." Elia returns in kind, a smile ghosting her lips. She turns, and with more seriousness hugs her brother tightly. "Watch over her, be sure she arrives safely."
"With my life," Oberyn whispers with fervor in her ear, "with my life."
Elia watches them board the ship, her heart aching as Rhaenys is lifted by Oberyn to the edge, she waves wildly with a broad smile across her face.
And Elia hopes, once more, that this all proves worth it.
Jaime
He is in better spirits now, staring down the northward journey, than he had been.
Reconciliation is a brilliant feeling, he figures, and Alys's soft hand in his listening and questioning about Casterly Rock days ago had brightened the dark and murky storm of his spirit like the sun breaking through a summer storm.
He was not staring down an agonizing journey to cold lands with someone who may never love him as he wishes. But instead he would be traveling with Alys, to a place she loves, with the end goal of eventually returning to his own home with her beside him.
It seemed far too good to be true.
Going to the docks the day of departure he is light on his feet, enjoying the ocean breeze and light sunrays coming down upon the water. He suffers through his father's goodbye, and reminder to return to Casterly Rock sooner rather than later.
Jaime bids Tyrion a goodbye as well, hugging his brother and enjoying the boys mumbled grievances once again over not being allowed along.
And when he stands, his brother leaving him, he sees Cersei stood with a coy smile playing upon her lips. He hasn't spoken with her since their talk on Alys, on his choices.
But she comes up to him with that smile and is the picture of a sister bidding her close brother goodbye.
"I will miss you, Jaime." She says, "as I always do."
"And I you," he responds though he isn't truly sure in this moment how genuine either of them are being.
But she smiles further, "oh but I will be sure to travel to Casterly Rock for your wedding," she says, "though depending on when it ends up that may prove difficult, I will try my hardest."
"Difficult?"
And there it was, a flicker of some bit of pleasure in the emerald gleam of Cersei's eyes. She nods, "yes, oh it's only just been confirmed so I forgot to tell you." Her smile deepens, like that of a cat catching the mouse, "I'm pregnant, it's quite exciting."
Jaime pauses, a whirl of emotions burning through him that he manages to shove down. "I imagine it is, you must be quite proud now, fulfilling your womanly duties."
A scowl flickers over her face, as he knew that comment would elicit, before she shakes it away. "Yes, an heir to the new kingdom, and I am very happy with it."
Jaime pauses, and nods, "then I am glad for you." Even though a part of him hates it, the part that still loves Cersei that is still possessive of what they were.
But Cersei seems to have more to say, leaning close and smiling wickedly. "You know, the Maester supposes by how far along I seem that it was likely conceived right around the wedding, perhaps even the night of," she pauses, and her eyes green and vicious flick up to meet his, "or perhaps the morning of."
Jaime freezes, blinking and thinking over what exactly she is proposing. "One time versus many."
"I'm certain of it," she remarks with clear confidence before leaning in and hugging him like they were simply saying their goodbyes. "How wonderful is it, and yet you ruin it by not being here, by running off with a Northern whore who will never fit you as right as me." She laughs lowly into his ear, "she'd probably hate you if she knew, she wouldn't understand."
"Cersei." Jaime's voice is a growl, low and dangerous as his hands fist against her.
Cersei pulls back, "don't worry brother, I will be fine here without you to guard me." She glances behind him, and smiles with sour falseness, "enjoy your journey north, and your life with your Stark girl. I do truly hope it rots around you."
And she leaves him, with revelations and anger rushing through his mind before he forces it away and boards the ship to leave all of this behind, and hoping desperately that she is wrong.
Alys
Kings Landing drifts away slowly, and Alys stays on deck the whole time watching it grow smaller and smaller.
Watching the city that had housed so much pain fade off on the horizon.
She watches it, as it drifts and the day passes and the ship sails further and further north. And she prays, for the life she'd had before, for the lives that had suffered there, had been lost there. For all that had happened.
And she prays for what is to come.
For Rhaenys, who runs around the deck with Balerion between her feet and Oberyn not far from her. She prays for the little girl who is so innocent in this all to find peace and happiness in her new life, that perhaps someday the family she is forced to leave behind will be able to return to her.
She prays for Jon. That his secret is kept, and that he grows up safe. That he grows up loved to the extent that he deserves and without the same pain that surrounded his birth.
And she prays for Jaime, and by extension herself. She prays that they can be happy, be in peace, and have a life that they both wish for.
She watches Kings Landing drift, and though she is heading north to bury her father, her brother, and her sister. She watches Kings Landing and the south fade away and whispers to the ocean winds her quiet goodbye to them.
She will grieve them all her life. She does not doubt that.
But she wants to live that life, and live it well.
Jaime joins her at some point, and again she takes his hand.
And as Kings Landing finally disappears from the horizon, she silently gives one last farewell with some bit of happiness. Not for what she lost there, but for what she gained.
Thank you so much for reading! I'm really happy I got this out today (5/18) cause it's actually the 3 year anniversary of when the first chapter was posted! Which is insane to me that I've been working on this for so long! So I hope you guys enjoyed, and as always thank you so so much for all the comments!