Revolutions
A Song of Ice and Fire, and all associated media, are the property of George R. R. Martin.
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In the end, their plans for preparing for an Other-induced Winter hinged on getting those new concrete and asphalt roads placed throughout the North. It would make everything afterward—transporting goods, people, what have you—easier and cut their preparation time in half. They spent the rest of the day preparing to flee King's Landing the second the 'trial' was over. Thankfully, when Ned had chartered the boat from Gulltown, Lord Arryn, who paid the expense, had given additional instructions for the captain to stay docked in King's Landing for a few extra days to wait for Ned and Robert, and a handful of additional passengers they might bring with them.
Lyanna was reminded of the Lord Arryn from the time-that-might-have-been, who went to war in defense of his fosterlings. 'As High as Honor' his house words said. He had a propensity to go above and beyond, she supposed, and she might have loved him for it.
They parted from her room well into the night, tired and fearful of the future—well, Bran and Thoros did. Ned and Father had left earlier to work out a quick betrothal between Ned and Ashara. She hoped the wedding would be held in the North, because Lyanna wouldn't venture south of the Neck again for anything. Well, other than to chain herself to Robert.
Lyanna herself slept fitfully that night. Dark figures haunted her dreams, frigid gales cutting down to her bones and freezing her soul.
She awoke in a sweaty, sticky heap. Gods, she hoped Randy would be able to eradicate the Others so they could be done with it all. Even if the thought of him facing those terrible creatures alone formed a cavernous pit in her heart.
The maids that helped her wash and dress were more anxious than usual. She'd tried to ask them what was wrong, but they were remarkably tight-lipped. Aerys must have planned something particularly vile. Logically, she knew Randy was in no danger whatsoever. But still, she worried.
When her family, and Thoros, met her outside her room, the mood was serious, but less somber than the day before. The main worry, she supposed, came from what Aerys would try to do to forestall his death.
Once again, they were escorted to the Iron Throne. But this time, what few whispers she heard spoke of pity towards the king, for angering the gods so. She heard people speak lowly of his crimes, and how they themselves should have done something sooner, to save the Seven the trouble of sending their own agent.
Lickspittles, the lot of them.
There were more people in the throne room than during Randy's previous trial. There was a steady hum of anticipation, everyone darting their heads around to be the first to get a glimpse at Randy. All but a small group of men in heavy robes, who were huddled together near the edge of the crowd. Something about them set Lyanna's hair on edge.
She needed a distraction—her nerves would do her in otherwise.
"So, Ned, will you and Bran have a double-wedding in the near future?"
"I don't think the timing will work out as such," Ned replied with a huff of laughter. "She's to return to Starfall and bring her mother, and perhaps her eldest brother, to Winterfell." He hesitated. "…In truth, Ashara and I were prepared to elope." Lyanna leaned back in shock. Ned, her honorable-to-a-fault brother, eloping?
He chuckled at her flabbergasted expression. "Ser Arthur was reluctant to agree on behalf of his family. Rather, he vowed to ensure the union would not happen."
"Damn fool," Father mumbled into his beard. "He should be grateful I didn't wring his neck for what for the crimes he was party to."
"What changed?" Lyanna asked, deftly side-stepping the desire to hug her father until something broke.
"Bloodraven, as a rat, appeared from the walls. Said that Dawn's repair would be held hostage should Ser Arthur keep 'whining like a child'." Ned frowned heavily. "In truth I don't approve of that—regardless of my desires, an item of such vaunted history should not be bartered over like a slab of meat—and Ashara and her brother liked it even less. But he agreed, in the end."
"Well, worse came to it I would have helped." Lyanna nodded firmly. "Yes, we'd have stolen her away, like a Wildling!" The mood dropped the second the word slipped from her mouth. Thoughts of the dark, terrible future that awaited them back home creeping into their minds like morning frosts.
Ned shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, well…Bran shall still be the first of us to be wed."
"And we're hosting the wedding in Winterfell, now," Bran added with a frown. "I know how much it meant to Catelyn to be wed in her home, but I can't be away from the North any longer. She'll understand, I think. Her father won't be too pleased, though."
"Hoster will be fine," Father added. "He's an ornery bastard, but he understands the importance of family. And, more importantly, keeping up appearances." He grunted. "I would have preferred you and Catelyn wed and bedded before all this mess occurred, but what's done is done."
"I'm not apologizing for leaving as I did," Bran bit back.
Father looked down at Bran in equal parts fondness and exasperation. "I don't expect you to," he said softly.
Lyanna sighed at the pair, before checking her surroundings. Something felt off. Ah. "Where's Robert?" She'd have expected him to lumber over to her by now. Ned looked down in embarrassment. "Drink or women?" she asked flatly.
"Both," her brother admitted. "I went to him after Father woke me, to inform him that we're leaving today." His voice gained a bitter edge. "Apparently his newfound friendship with the 'Blessed One' has made him more desirable." He rubbed his brow. "Lya, I swear, I never thought—"
"Ned, please, don't," she cut him off. Ned thought the best of Robert, just as he did with everyone. It was his nature. Just as hedonism was Robert's.
A herald called for attention. The king was approaching.
King Aerys—hair disheveled, clothes rumpled, and eye bloodshot—and the royal family, save for the children, entered the room. The kingsguard led two score more guards into the room, the latter taking up posts around the crowd, holding them back. The Targaryens themselves were dressed in the standard Targaryen colors, but Lyanna couldn't help but notice that, save for Aerys, they wore more black than red. The queen even wore a veil.
She frowned at the near-monochromatic sight. She didn't give a shit about King Aerys—any of them, really—but still, to abandon him so easily…She knew that, if her own father, or any member of her family, were marching towards their death, and gods-forbid, it be deserved and just, she'd at least display the hope and belief that they might yet survive.
Being a Targeryen was no easy feat, it would seem.
The king sneered from the Iron Throne. "And where is my accuser?"
"Right here!" Randy's voice called from above. Lyanna craned her neck up and saw Randy sitting atop one of the rafters. "Lovely view from up here," he said. "You all look like ants!"
He leapt down from the rafters. Lyanna, and everyone else no doubt, expected him to slowly float down, like a god descending from the heavens. So it came as quite a shock when he sank down through the air like a stone. But just before he would have hit the ground, he stopped, frozen like an icicle hanging from an awning.
He smiled widely—too wide than was naturally possible for a normal person. "Hey Aerys!" He dropped onto the ground and rolled his shoulders. "Ready to die?"
The king let out a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a growl. "You're being far too eager…Randy." He spat the name like a curse. "The gods may side with me yet." The High Septon frowned at the king in disapproval.
"If it makes you feel better," Randy replied, looking at his nails.
The High Septon took that as his cue to start his speech to bless and begin the Trial by Combat. He was a lot more enthused about this one than yesterday's.
Aerys bared his yellow, misshapen teeth. "You bade me to name any three champions. Well, I only need one." He snapped his fingers—the men off from the crowd that Lyanna noticed crowed around Randy. "And I name fire!"
As one, the men drew green flasks from their robes and threw them over Randy.
But just before they all would have hit him; they froze in place.
Randy sent the men—pyromancers, Lyanna realized, and those flasks contained wildfire—a bored glare. "Did you guys really think that would work?" he asked. The pyromancers were silent as they slunk away in shame and embarrassment.
Randy sighed and directed his attention to the king. The flasks moved from their spots, orbiting around Randy's body. "Did you think this would work? Really?"
Aery made to speak, but the High Septon shouted above him. "Blasphemy!" He cried and glared at the king. "You would despoil such a sacred right as the Trial by Combat by naming fire as your champion?!"
Aerys snarled, but Randy interrupted him this time. "High Septon," he called out. "It's fine, really. Frankly, Aerys needs all the advantages he can get." The High Septon pouted like a puppy but did lower his arm.
Randy turned to the king. "Still though, bad choice."
Aerys sniffed imperiously. "You haven't defeated the fire, have you?"
"Ah!" Randy tapped his nose and smiled. "Because the fire's still here, technically." Randy waved his right hand, and the tops of the flasks popped off. Green liquid flowed out from them, the flasks falling to the ground as a solid ring of liquid wildfire took their place.
Lyanna clutched Ned's hand when the wildfire lit up, Randy's face framed by a ring of emerald flames. If this were normal fire, perhaps she might not have worried. But this was wildfire! It was said that pyromancers called upon strange magics to create the horrible substance. And Lyanna would never forget what Randy looked like the last time he faced magic.
Randy waved his hand forward. The ring of fire snaked in front of him, forming a large flaming emerald orb. "Yeah, I get it! Very clever, Aerys! Wildfire lasts a lot longer than a normal flame, especially in such large quantities. Something this big and pure—it could go for days, weeks even!" Aerys preened atop the Iron Throne.
Randy hummed and rubbed his chin. "What to do, what to do? Ah!" He snapped his fingers. "That should work!"
He shifted so his feet were shoulder-width apart. His arms were held at his side, body angled back, and mouth wide open. Then, he inhaled. A long, loud, steady inhale. Air visibly flowed around and into his mouth—the shape reminiscent of a water spout she'd heard Lord Manderly speak of once during a feast. A rapid cyclone of air whipping wind every which way. Indeed, the guards closest to Randy stepped away in fright when their tabards floated with the air.
Then, quick as a flash, the orb of wildfire shot into his mouth. Randy shut his mouth the instant it passed his lips, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel's. He ate the wildfire, and his body was overtaken by a sudden bright flash of light.
When the light vanished, Randy was still there, but with a roaring flame in place of the upper half of his head.
"Wow!" Randy exclaimed to the utterly silent throne room. "Talk about a rush!" He raised his hands to the flame atop his head, and sunk them into the flames, and further into his own head. "Woo! That's a weird feeling."
Lyanna saw more than a few people faint out of the corners of her eyes, everyone else just staring on in dawning horror as it fully dawned on them just how powerful, how godly, Randy truly was. King Aerys specifically looked torn between incredulity, outrage, and sheer terror.
Randy rolled his shoulders, and his body was engulfed in light once more. When the light faded, a bright yellow star burst out from his fully-formed head. "One down! What's next?" Aerys's jaw worked up-and-down soundlessly.
Randy grinned impishly. "Aerys," he teased. "Did you not choose your other champions?" He tutted and shook his finger. "Very lazy, my friend, very lazy!" He lay down in the air. "But I'm an understanding man—that wildfire trick would have killed anyone else, after all. So go ahead," Randy clasped his hands behind his head. "I'll wait."
The crowd whispered up a storm as Aerys gnashed his teeth. More than a few people were saying the king should just give up and submit to the gods' judgement. Lyanna, for her part, wanted Rhaegar to join in on the 'fun'.
"This is cruel," Ned muttered. "Drawing out this…torture."
"You can't say he doesn't deserve it," Bran replied lowly.
"Aerys should rot," Ned said in agreement. "But it should be done cleanly. Quickly. Not like this. Imagine yourself in Aerys's place."
Bran reared back, offended. "I'd never do something to deserve that!"
"I'm sure the king thought much the same."
"Ned!" Lyanna admonished her brother and smacked him on the arm.
"I just…" He held up his hands and sighed. "I am sorry, but I cannot help by be wary. All that power in the hands on one man, who is favored by the Old and the New…You must admit it is rather frightening."
Lyanna made to speak, but their father cut her off. "So long as we maintain a good rapport," he said gravely, "we won't have cause to worry."
Lyanna huffed—they were making him sound like some kind of monster. Which, fine, to be fair, Randy did possess horrifying abilities. But he only used them to help others…Except for that time he bound Bran and his fellows to keep them quiet….Or when he magically shoved dozens of people out of the godswood to get some quiet…And then stole the High Septon's voice to maintain that quiet…
Upon thinking on it further, Lyanna supposed you were in trouble if you were loud.
A loud, obnoxious yawn caught her attention. Randy performed a long, full body stretch in the air. "Listen," he said, arching a brow at Aerys. "I'm sure your schedule is clear, but I would like to get on with my day." The king let out a wordless growl, to which Randy just shrugged and crossed his arms.
Then, and maybe Lyanna only noticed because she was staring so intently at Randy, his left middle finger curled inward ever-so-slightly.
Seconds later, Lyanna, and several others in the room, gagged as an acrid, rancid stench wafted in. She noticed that Crownland natives seemed less affected than others, but even their faces pinched in disgust.
But Aerys just smiled. He gestured to a window high on the wall. "There!" He cried. "My second champion!"
"…The window?" Randy asked with an arched brow. He lazily lifted his right hand, palm facing the window. A small orb of yellow light formed in his hand, and when it grew to about half the size of his palm, it shot off from his hand, an arc of light trailing behind it. It crashed against the window with a soft boom and destroyed the opening on impact.
"Next!" Randy called out.
Aerys scoffed. "I didn't mean the window, fool!" He spread his arms wide. "I name the city of King's Landing my champion—its stench, rather."
"Oh." Randy huffed. "You could have led with that. Give me a minute," he said, and flew out the destroyed window. Thankfully, the new hole was large enough that Lyanna didn't have to move or crane her neck to keep her eye on Randy.
He stared down at the city from on high, still as a statue for a long moment. Then, he raised his arms parallel to each other.
Then, the ground shook. First a low rumble, then a steady roar. And from outside the Red Keep came a great many frightened cries and screams.
"What the fuck is going on?" Father asked.
"D-Do you think he's destroying the city?" Ned asked. Lyanna whirled on him, and he shrugged helplessly. "It's one way to get rid of the stench, isn't it?" No, not a chance! Randy was crazy—wonderfully so—but he wasn't a monster.
Thankfully, Randy was not destroying the city. But that didn't make his actual actions any less disturbing. He moved his arms in wide, circular motions. The air itself shifted. It flowed through Lyanna's hair, wove around her and everyone in the throne room, dust picking up and outlining the wind's path as it twirled towards Randy. From outside, she could see more lines of wind dance up to him. And then liquids—dirty, brown sludge of things she didn't even want to think about. She swore she saw body parts swimming inside it.
The wind and liquids entwined before Randy, forming a large sphere—half the size of the Red Keep. Randy's arms were spread wide, as if presenting this disgusting mass to the world. Then, slowly, he brought his arms together, and the sphere shrunk until it was no larger than Randy's head. It hovered over his hands, and for one terrifying moment, Lyanna was afraid he was going to eat it—it contained so much of that 'organic material' he so loved, after all.
But no. Thankfully for her heart and stomach, he just set the orb on fire, wiping his hands clean when it dissolved into nothing.
It was at that moment that she realized how stale and clean the air was. And given the astonished, almost grateful looks on the crownlanders faces, they probably hadn't smelt air not stained with shit for their entire lives.
Randy lazily flew back into the Red Keep. "Did you guys a favor and got rid of the things that actually cause all that terrible smell. But if people keep doing what they've been doing, it's just going to come back in a decade, maybe less." He pointed to Rhaegar with a wink. "If I were you, I'd make my first kingly decree have something to do with proper waste management."
Rhaegar didn't say. He merely nodded jerkily. He tried to move closer to his wife for comfort, but she deftly stepped aside and held onto Queen Rhaella with both hands. Ah, maybe Lyanna should have talked with the princess at least once. She had a decent head on her shoulders.
Randy turned his attention to the king, who was trembling and red-faced. "If you want," Randy said slyly, "we can just forget about that third champion. Get this whole mess over with."
The snarled wordlessly and cast his gaze downward. To his kingsguard. "Lannister!" he hollered, half-hysteric. "Perhaps you'll prove better than your elders!" Jaime Lannister face turned paler than his white armor. A stunned silence fell over the throne room.
"Woah there!" Randy held up his hands. "Are you crazy? Wait." He rolled his eyes. "Almost forgot who I was talking to." He huffed in Lannister's direction. "Whatever. Hey, you surrender?"
Whatever the young knight had to say, Aerys spoke over him. "There shall be no surrender!" he cried. "A kingsguard fights to his last breath!"
Randy narrowed his eyes at Aerys. "…You're serious. You're willing to drag him down with you?"
"It is his duty!" Aerys hissed. "There is no greater honor for a servant than to die in defense of his king!" He glared down at the young knight. "Now, boy!"
Slowly, white-faced, Jaime Lannister drew his blade and stalked towards Randy. No one dared speak, but Lyanna saw several people, including his own kingsguard and family, glare at the king. But no one rose to the young knight's defense.
"He can't be serious!" Lyanna whispered in disbelief. "He'll be killed!"
"It is expected that kingsguard die in defense of their king," Ned said lowly.
"Sers Selmy, Martell, and Darry yet live," Lyanna replied.
"They fought for the prince," Father said gently, face full of pity as Jaime Lannister came to a stop before Randy. "The difference is subtle but exists all the same." Lyanna stared helplessly at the scene before her. She, politically dense as she was, knew that Randy needed to follow this 'trial' through. Maintain some semblance of civility and propriety throughout this whole affair. And she knew, in her heart, that he would kill Jaime Lannister to do so.
Ser Lannister shook like a leaf in a storm, but to his credit, he never took his eyes off Randy.
Randy sighed and held his hands close together in front of his chest. Lightning danced between his fingers. "Don't worry, I'll make this quick."
Ser Lannister gulped. "…No."
Randy—everyone—froze. He dropped his hands and stared at Ser Lannister in wonder. "Come again?"
The young knight closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he stopped shaking. "No," he said firmly, and dropped his sword to the ground, the sound of clanging metal echoing across the throne room.
"Lannister!" Ser Selmy cried, the only person among the kingsguard to not stare slackjawed. Well, everyone else in the room also stared at the young knight in shock. "What are you doing?!"
Ser Lannister shook his head violently. "I cannot fight this…man."
King Aerys scoffed. "Worry not, your sacrifice shall be recorded as one of the greatest deaths a member of the kingsguard ever suffered."
"Let me rephrase," the knight said with a half-mad laugh. "I refuse to fight in your name." The king reared back as if struck.
"What?" he hissed.
Ser Lannister's nostrils flared as he glared at the king. "I-I can't defend you against crimes that true!" He turned to the crowd. "This 'trial' is a sham, but not because of the divine being before me." He stretched a hand out towards the king. "But because every crime laid against the king is true!"
"Lies!" Aerys roared.
"Lannister!" Selmy bellowed. "You are a knight of the kingsguard! You swore an oath to your king!" His eyes blazed with fury—a grossly misplaced fury, in Lyanna's opinion.
"Fuck the kingsguard!" Ser Lannister declared and tore off his white cloak—which earned him a score of shocked and horrified gasps. "And fuck the king!" He pressed a hand against his chest. "We swore to be brave! Just! To defend the young, innocent, and all women!" There were tears in his eyes. "And what have we done with ourselves? Brave? Just? We stand as still as statues as the king rapes his queen and burns the people out of fear that his anger would turn to us!" He spat on the ground. "And when have we protected the young, the innocent, any women? All we do is act as footstools for a vile, decrepit old man!"
People started screaming after that. The king called for him—for Randy, for Rhaegar, his wife, anyone—to die. The other knights of the kingsguard hurled abuse at their youngest member. And dozens upon hundreds of men, and a fair few women, in the crowd spat vitriol at Jaime Lannister. But the young knight stood defiant—a proud lion snarling though his tears for all the world to see.
Lyanna couldn't help but wonder where all this anger and pride was when Aerys started burning people and raping his wife.
"Jaime Lannister," Randy intoned. All noise and movement ceased, and Jaime Lannister slowly turned around. Randy stepped forward, until he stood in front of the crying young man. Randy wasn't all that much taller than him, but he stood like a giant. Slowly, he raised his hands to Jaime's shoulders, grasped them, and said, "You…are a good person."
Whatever people expected him to say, it wasn't that. Though Lyanna smiled widely at them both.
Randy's lips spread into a soft smile. "There is a great, noble knight within you. Far greater and more deserving of the title than anyone in this room! Never forget that! Do not let it die because others are too afraid to do the right thing!" The young knight was close to sobbing, staring up at Randy with an adoration Lyanna was intimately familiar with.
Randy whispered softly to the knight, and pulled out a piece of golden silk cloth to clean his face. He squeezed the knight's shoulders with another wide smile, before stepping back and turning stone-faced to the king. "It looks like you don't have a third champion."
And all at once, the reality of the situation reasserted itself. The king paled and spluttered and trembled atop the Iron Throne. He stared helplessly at his remaining knigsguard. The white-clad knights, despite their previous insistence on serving their king, just fidgeted in place.
Finally, Ser Darry stepped forward, sword drawn. "I shall fight on my king's behalf!"
Randy grunted—"Fine"—and twin beams of fire shot out from his eyes and bore through Ser Darry's skull. The knight fell wordlessly into a flaming heap.
"Anyone else?" Randy inquired as dozens of people vomited at the sight of Ser Darry's burning corpse. Lyanna felt a particular glee at the horrified expressions on both Dayne and Rhaegar—reliving their first meeting with Randy, no doubt.
"Alright." Randy shrugged. "Time to kill myself a king."
"No!" Aerys roared. "You cannot kill me!" He rose to his feet, spittle flying everywhere. "I am your king! I am the blood of the dragon!"
"Oh!" Randy chuckled. "I am so glad you said that!"
Randy bent forward, bones cracking as his body shifted and grew. His clothes tore, but instead of revealing flesh, they revealed scales. His head elongated into a snout, sharp, jagged fangs replacing his teeth. Hands and feet morphing into claws. His back split open as two wings burst out and flared open.
Lyanna stood transfixed throughout the entire thing, even as people around her cried out and ran away. There he stood, no longer a man, but a great, hulking dragon with pitch-black scales, pearly-white fangs, and eyes that shone like gold.
Gods, she was going to do it. She was going to start a cult in Randy's name.
Aerys had fallen back onto the Iron Throne, breaths coming out in short fearful gasps as Randy craned his neck forward, smoke filtering out from his gaping maw.
Then, he spoke, voice rumbling through his draconic throat like a rockslide. "Actually, you know what? No." He leaned back, and transformed into his human self, clothed, with far less pomp and circumstance than he used to change into a dragon.
"No, not like this," he said face pinched in disgust. "Killing you as a dragon it's…poetic! I mean, obviously people are going to write songs and stories about this event that'll be told for ages, but I don't want them to twist your death into something grand and noble!" He sniffed. "What's a nice ignoble death? Anyone?"
"Burn him!" Lyanna shouted above the protests of her family.
Randy snapped his fingers and smiled at her. "I like where your head's at, but that's still a poetic death." He turned back to Aerys. "What do you say, Aerys? Your opinion is still valid for the next few minutes." Silence. "…Aerys?"
Lyanna let out a strangled laugh when Randy waved his hand and the king flopped forward through the air. He'd died of fright!
Randy pouted as he checked the king's pulse. "Well, that really takes the wind out of my sails." He stepped back. "But maybe…" He held up his right hand, a bright light gathering on the tip of his index finger. Only to drop his hand, the glow vanishing in an instant. "Nah, that's going a bit too far." He crossed his arms, and the king's body fell to the ground with a sickening crunch. His crown rolled away, and Randy stopped it with his foot. "The king is dead." He picked up the crown and turned to Rhaegar with a twisted grin. "Long live the king! Rhaegar Targaryen, come on down!" Rhaegar didn't move. Randy rolled his eyes. "I said, come." He waved his arm, and the prince slid forward as if on ice, and came to a stop before Randy, right beside Aerys's corpse. "Kneel." He did so, and Lyanna couldn't tell if it was of his own volition.
Randy twirled Aerys's crown in his hands. "I know there's this supposed to be this whole ceremony, people coming in from all over Westeros for your coronation, but I think we can skip all that." Rhaegar nodded so fast Lyanna was surprised his neck didn't break.
The High Septon stomped forward. "Well said, Blessed One! I shall perform the ceremony now!"
"Ah, don't go out of your way," Randy replied. "I've got a better idea for divine approval." He raised his free hand to the roof, and beams of light shot out from his palm. When they impacted the ceiling, every brick and beam gained an orange outline. The Red Keep rumbled, and the bricks and beams floated outward, opening the throne room to the sky.
He snapped his fingers, and a thin bolt of lightning shot out from his fingers into the sky.
The clouds shifted like when Randy previously summoned the Seven. But instead of forming words, they shifted into seven pairs of eyes, each a different shape, and the 'irises' of each pair shining a different color of the rainbow.
Randy whistled. "Damn, that'smimpressive! I'm really proud of you guys getting the hand of actually interacting with the mortal coil!" Seven clouds in the shape of a thumbs up quickly faded in-and-out of existence, and a few pairs squinted in what could only be joy.
But all seven quickly glared down at them. At Rhaegar.
The man himself stared at the sky in awe.
"Don't look too pleased with yourself," Randy said lowly. "If they were fond of you, I wouldn't be here." As if in support of Randy's statement, the temperature dropped several degrees. The people around her shivered, but it reminded Lyanna of a brisk day in Winterfell.
"So, Prince Rhaegar," Randy intoned. He reached down and grabbed the prince by the chin. "Do you swear to not be a fuck up? Any more than you already are?"
"I-I swear!" Rhaegar declared fearfully.
Randy hummed and tilted his head up. "That good enough for you?" he asked the gods. Three clouds formed a thumbs-down, but four formed a thumbs-up. "Uh…Do you guys run on unanimous voting, or majority?"
The clouds shifted. They read, in two distinctive scripts, 'Majority rule,' 'Unfortunately'.
"Huh, so even gods have politics."
'Dear, do not get us started,' the clouds read.
Randy shrugged. "Well, this is really all I needed you for. Thanks!"
'A pleasure', the clouds read in seven different scripts. The eyes slowly faded away, until only the rings of light remained. Then they too, vanished.
Randy snapped his fingers, and the Red Keep rebuilt itself brick-by-brick.
Randy unceremoniously dropped the crown on Prince—rather, King Rhaegar's head. "Rise, King Rhaegar, and go…do things." Rhaegar stood up and quickly ran away to join his family, who moved as one, flanked by the kingsguard, save for Jaime Lannister, who'd vanished in the chaos.
"Ah, wait a minute!" Randy stretched his arm forward to clasp onto Arthur Dayne's shoulder and dragged him backwards. He froze like a frightened animal, and if he were anyone else, probably would have pissed himself. "I believe we had a deal?"
Slowly, the knight nodded, and grabbed a small sack tied to his waist. Randy swiped the bag and emptied the contents on the floor. The milky-white pieces of what was once the Dayne ancestral blade Dawn clattered onto the floor dully.
Randy hummed and gestured to the pieces. They rose in the air before them. "And the sheath?" Dayne reached behind his back and pulled out Dawn's sheath from under his cloak. It floated out of his hands, into Randy's.
The pieces of Dawn swirled around, slotting together like puzzle pieces. When the tip fell into place, the blade glowed like a star, three dark scars the only evidence of its breaking. Randy took the blade, and reverently slid it into the sheath.
He gestured for Arthur to grab it. He did, hesitantly, as though expecting the blade, or Randy himself, to bite him. Neither did—unfortunately, in Lyanna's opinion—and Arthur ran away with his tail tucked between his legs back to the royal family and his fellow kingsguard.
The new King stared at Randy for a long moment, before vanishing deeper into the Red Keep with his kin.
Randy turned to crowd. "…Don't suppose there are any Silent Sisters here?" he asked as he gestured to Aerys's corpse at his feet. Lyanna, admittedly, had forgotten it was still there.
"Of course, Blessed One!" The High Septon declared, and a gaggle of Silent Sisters pushed through the crowd. That got everyone else in the room—and those that had fled out of it—to surge forward. They clamored for Randy, who floated above them with a bored expression.
Lyanna only kept her footing because Thoros kept a hand on her shoulder. "Now seems like a good time to leave," he said as he dragged her away. She couldn't help but agree. And she swore, no matter what, she would never return to the Red Keep again.
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They found horses in the stables to take them down to the docks. It was shockingly easy to get through the city, compared to when Lyanna had first arrived. The streets were empty, the only congestion being found around septs, the Sept of Baelor especially. Which made sense—it would be hard to mistake the rainbow-colored eyes in the sky as belonging to anything else other than the Seven-who-are-One.
People were frightened, rightfully so, but Lyanna heard whispers of a man chosen by the gods, Old and New, to dispense their will and justice. That he was displeased with the Targaryens, but favored the Starks, and the High Septon.
She'd need to work hard on starting her cult—it wouldn't do to be shown up by the High Septon.
When they found the ship they would take home, she was surprised to see Robert waiting on the gangplank.
"Ho there!" Robert shouted as he stomped down to them. "Was wondering when you'd all arrive!"
"Robert?" Ned dismounted and clasped his friend's arm. "When did you get here?"
"Hours ago," he said with a shrug. "I figured someone should make sure things are good for us all to go as soon as possible."
"You didn't wish to witness the trial?" Father asked.
Robert snorted. "What trial? It was obvious Aerys was going to die—miserably at that." He shook his head. "I'm all for a good hunt, but its poor sport to just let an animal run itself ragged when you've wounded it. Kill it quickly, I say." Ned nodded along with his words. "Though I'll admit I would have liked to be there when the gods stared down on you all," he said with no small amount of awe. "What was it like?"
"Unnerving," Thoros replied with a shudder.
"Right, well, I was asking my fellow natives."
"Their foreign gods to us as well, Robert," Lyanna replied.
"Well, not you, soon enough!" Robert replied with a wide grin. "Do you think we could get Randy to officiate for us?"
Lyanna fought against a grimace. Gods no. She didn't want Randy anywhere near her wedding. It would be hard enough without him there.
"Let's talk after we've put this place a few leagues behind us," Bran said as he leapt off his horse and unloaded what few supplies they all had.
Lyanna dismounted as well and jerked back against the horse when Randy appeared in front of her. "Hey guys," he said lazily.
"Randy!" she embraced him—shorter than she would have liked, but Robert was there. "I was wondering if we'd see you before we left!"
"Yeah, I just came to ask for a couple favors." He squeezed her shoulder with a heart-pounding smile. He extended his hand towards her brothers and father. Three large flasks formed from the back of his hands and floated over to them. "I'm gonna need you guys to fill these up with pee."
"Why?" Ned asked tiredly as he picked up his flask.
"I'm going to be going around and planting new weirwood trees in the South. Figured it would be better to have my own supply of First Men piss than grabbing some random person and hoping they've got the right blood."
"Makes sense," Bran said easily. Father seemed to age decades but didn't object to assisting Randy.
"And just one other teensy little thing."
"What?" Father asked warily.
"Give it a minute, he's coming up now." He?
Lyanna stared up the road and was able to see a horseman in the distance. Based on his bouncing golden curls, it could only be Jaime Lannister.
Lyanna hadn't realized it during the 'trial', but he was so young for a knight of the kingsguard. Closer to her age than Bran's, as she'd previously assumed.
Randy waited for the young knight, who tried for a cocky smile but ended up grimacing at them, to dismount before stepping forward and clapping his shoulder. "Jaime's going North with you."
"Why?" Father asked.
"Because if he stays here, he might get stabbed!" Randy declared. "Also, he doesn't want to go to the Westerlands, and just look at him! He's like a puppy left out in the rain!" Ser Lannister's face colored, but he didn't contradict Randy.
"He's still a member of the kingsguard," Ned stated with narrowed eyes. Lyanna knew what he was going to say next—some drivel about vows—and elbowed him to shut him up.
Randy snapped his fingers. "Good point!" He pulled on his left thumb and dragged out a sheet of paper. He sneezed, and an inkwell and quill landed on his left arm.
He spoke aloud as he wrote on the paper. "I am taking Jaime Lannister with me, releasing him from his vows with the grace of the gods. You all can't be trusted." He signed his name with a flourish and folded the paper into the shape of an arrow. He turned around and threw the paper arrow at the Red Keep. "There we go. All sorted!"
It probably wouldn't be. Forget the Targaryens, Tywin Lannister would have a very strong opinion on the whereabouts and status of his son. But Randy did as Randy does, and Lyanna would always be along for the ride.
Thoros took pity on the young knight. "Come along," he said. "Let's get you onto the ship." The youth sighed but followed Thoros up the gangplank.
"Great," Father grumbled. "Now I'll be entering talks with Twyin fucking Lannister."
"We could use this," Bran mused. "Lannister gold would go a long way in preparing the North."
"Preparing the North for what?" Robert asked. When Father made to speak, to dismiss Robert, no doubt, the stormlord held up a hand. "If you're all in trouble, I should know. I'm to wed your daughter, after all."
Lyanna's face fell as her family accepted Robert's argument and huddled around him to explain the plight of the Others. She'd have a few months reprieve, but her day was coming soon. She could only hope to be wedded and bedded in Winterfell—lose her maidenhead in the comfort of her home.
"Lyanna." She turned to Randy, who held up a silk cloth and pressed it against her cheek. Oh! She hadn't even realized.
She sniffed and cleaned herself up. "Ah, I'm sorry you had to see me like this."
"Lyanna Stark," Randy said with a soft, sad smile. He gestured to Robert. "Do you want to marry this man?"
She recognized the sentence. And she almost laughed because her answer was the same now as it was then. "No, I won't want this," she whispered. "B-But I—"
Randy gently shushed her and clasped her hands in his own. "Give me a minute." He vanished in the blink of an eye and reappeared right in the middle of Robert and her family.
"Robert!" He shouted and draped a hand over the bewildered man's shoulders. "Let's have us a quick, chat, hm?" He kicked his right foot against the ground, and a ramshackle wooden shack rose out from the docks. He strongarmed Robert into it despite his protests and struggles, and slammed the door shut behind them.
Her family rounded on her. "What's going on?" Ned asked, stricken.
Lyanna couldn't keep the smile off her face. "Randy's…saving my life once more." They questioned her as to her meaning, but she kept her silence.
Suddenly, the shack's door slammed open, and Robert stormed out with all the fury of his homeland. His face was twisted into a furious, red sneer, and most alarmingly, his knuckles were bloody.
"Lyanna!" he roared. She couldn't help the instinctive step back she took into Bran.
Robert stilled at that, his rage breaking into something akin to shock. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and walked towards her with a carefully blank look on his face.
"Lyanna," Robert repeated softer, but no less raw. "Do you want to marry me?"
Lyanna froze, which Robert took, correctly, as her answer. He slumped over. "…Did you ever?" he asked, in a softer, more vulnerable voice than she thought possible for him.
"Never," Lyanna declared. "I'm…Robert, I'm so—"
"Don't!" He held up his hands and took a deep breath. "Just…don't." He turned away from them, fists shaking at his side.
"Well," he said roughly, "I think we can call the wedding off."
"Robert—"
"No, Lord Rickard," Robert turned back with a harsh frown. "I'm…I'll not force a woman to wed me." He ran a hand through his hair. "I need to be alone. Perhaps after a few days at sea I'll be ready to continue discussing this ice monster thing you're all so worried about."
"Wait." Lyanna stepped forward. "You'd still assist us against the Others?"
Now, Robert stared at her in unabashed shock. "Of course I would!" He declared. "Ned's still closer to me than my own brothers, and if you're all so worried about this—fuck, if Randy, with all his fantastic abilities, is worried about it—then it needs to be dealt with. I'd have to be some kind of monster to just ignore you because of a failed bethrothal!"
"Right-o, Robert!" Randy stepped out of the shack, which crumbled to dust moments after. "I mean, you'd have to be some sort of major asshole." He snapped his fingers with a wide grin. He pulled out another sheet of paper from his skin, and Lyanna saw him write the words 'You are an asshole' upon it. He then folded it into an arrow and threw it at the Red Keep. He placed his hands on his hips. "…I'm going to make that a thing!"
Father cleared his throat. "Yes, well…I suppose we should all ship out."
"You all go on ahead," Randy said, not taking his eyes off the Red Keep. "I still got a few things to take care of here—make sure the High Septon sends out letter to not screw with any of the weirwood trees I'm going to grow and make sure Bloodraven's magic-animal spy ring is all set, among others."
"Of course," Father replied blandly. Though he did take a moment to bow deeply to Randy. "Regardless, thank you, for all you've done, and shall continue to do for my family."
"Don't mention it," Randy replied. "It's the right thing." Father nodded, and he and Bran walked up the gangplank. Ned tried to reach out to Robert, but he shrugged him off and stalked onto the ship, Ned close behind.
Leaving Lyanna and Randy alone on the dock.
She stepped closer to him, breathless. "Randy…You…You didn't have to do that. I would have married Robert!"
"But you didn't want to," he said, as if that was all that mattered.
Her breath quickened. "W-What did you even say to him? He's stubborn as a bull!"
"I just asked him some questions. He didn't like them, but he's not an idiot, or inherently cruel. Just…a little thoughtless." He shrugged. "Give him a little more time to mature, and I think he'd make a decent husband."
Something twinged in Lyanna's heart. "Didn't you just get him to not marry me?" She hoped she didn't sound as defeated as she thought.
Randy turned to her with a wry grin. "No, Lyanna, I'm speaking generally. I know it's not how things work here, but people should only marry who they want, when they want."
"Is that how things were, in your old world?"
Randy looked out to the horizon. "For the most part."
She found herself asking, "Were you married?"
"Nah, died too young."
She stared at him, tracing his features with her eyes. Her face heated up. "Do you…want to get married?"
He hummed and tilted his head in her direction. "Eventually, should I find the right person."
Maybe he has. Maybe they both have. Lyanna wet her lips, and gently grabbed his arm and leaned forward.
Only for Randy to grab her own shoulders and keep her in place. "Oh, Lyanna, no."
Her heart shattered like glass. She jerked back, frantically wiping away the tears in her eyes. "F-Forgive me! I didn't—I wasn't—I should have known you wouldn't—"
"Lyanna, listen." Randy stared at her fondly. "I…I'm not blind. I know that you're fond of me. But I can't return those feelings."
She sniffed. "Because you're not really human?"
"Because you just broke off a betrothal," he said with a chuckle. "No matter your feelings for your former betrothed, kissing another man right after is just poor form."
"True", she admitted with a watery giggle.
"Not to mention"—Randy looked her straight in the eye—"Lyanna, we've only known each other for a month! Less, even!"
"It's been a wonderful month," she said with a grin.
"Certainly. But that month started off with me saving you from being married by a madman that wanted to rape a baby into you." He placed a hand on his chest. "I won't tell you how to feel, but I'm not comfortable entering a relationship with someone under those circumstances."
Lyanna clasped her hands behind her back. "And when would you be comfortable with it?"
He grinned. "We'll see. You could find someone else; you know." Never. As long as she lived, no other man would ever compare to Randy.
He rubbed her left shoulder, said, "I'll see you later," and vanished in the blink of an eye.
Lyanna sighed, her heart slowly repairing itself. She walked onto the ship, and that must have been the signal for them to shove off, for the captain started bellowing orders to his crew.
"Lya?" Bran, who was waiting for her, traced her tear-stained cheeks. "Are you alright?"
She pressed a kiss against his palm. "I'll be better when we return home."
Her brother laughed and pulled her into a one-armed hug. "You and me both."
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A/N: Poor Jaime. Poor Robert. Poor Lyanna.