Flashforward
The surroundings became a blur and time went from seconds to hours. The now dented helm hit the nearby stone with a clang. All was lost. Death was coming, and with it one last failure.
As if to answer those thoughts, a stranger came forth to finish the work of another. Or was it the Stranger himself? An aura of terror and fury radiated from the man in rough brown wool. But the stranger did not close the distance, and instead calmly bent down to pick up the helm by its snout.
Cersei
She was dragged down the Kingspyre Tower kicking and screaming. She had to get free, and find Tommen. Ser Robert Strong would be guarding him. Once she was able to give a direct order to Ser Robert, he would help her and Tommen fight their way out. The only problem was that Ser Robert would not lift a finger until she gave him an order, and first she would have to find him. Of course he was not much different from Ser Boros or Ser Meryn in that matter, wherever they were.
He was strong and followed her orders without question, unlike many simpering fools. Ser Robert Strong was just not human, he was not very smart. Then again, maybe he was Gregor Clegane come again, after all.
A handsome man with the look of a sellsword and auburn hair and an irritating cocksure demeanor taunted her, "don't worry your son won't be around for the wedding." He looked at her slyly, "or the bedding."
Her world had been turned upside down, everybody had betrayed her. Cersei was still not sure if she was being marched to her own wedding or her execution. Many of those she saw wanted her dead she knew.
Cersei knew that she had been played; Littlefinger was more ambitious than she could ever have imagined. Being the Lord Protector of the Vale was just not enough, he had to be king of Westeros.
She was furious at the idea of wedding again, but she was also fearful. If Littlefinger got a child on her, then he would kill Tommen without hesitation, and soon he would no longer need her.
And he was rubbing salt in her wounds, it was clear that her captives answered to Sansa Stark, no Lannister. The irony of becoming Sansa's captive almost made her laugh.
A handsome, burly knight with a device of checkered red on white passed met them at the foot of the tower. He gave a generous bow towards Sansa, "my lady, who is to give her away?"
The casual insolence of his tone angered her, how he spoke of her as just a mere brood mare and not the queen regent.
But Sansa only smiled, "I fear we will need at least two people good ser, ideally family members."
Cersei knew his type; the young knight had an aura about him that reminded her of young Robert. The knight turned took a brief moment to leer at her before returning his polite gaze towards Sansa.
He scratched his head for a moment. "Is it true, that the imp has a dwarf child here in Harrenhal?" He's about as smart as Robert and he was a witless sot.
For only the briefest of moments, Cersei saw irratation on Sansa's face, but this young knight was clearly oblivious to her lack of interest towards him.
"Yes, Ser Harry," her voice was courteous and did little to show her displeasure, "Have you met Lanna?"
Ser Harry looked deep in thought for a moment before laughing, "Who thought the ugly little monster would have a pretty daughter?"
A valid question, thought Cersei for a moment.
"Ser Shadrich, can you find her for me?"
The sellsword grinned and left. Sansa looked at her captors and indicated a chamber to her left.
"A Bride must look good on her wedding, Lanna and I will do her hair."
"I must beg my leave." The handsome dolt of a knight was hesistant to leave, for he clearly wanted something more. Sansa offered her hand, which Ser Harry eagerly kissed. "I eagerly await our marriage good ser."
The gag effectively choked off her laughter. Did this fool of a knight know about Tyrion yet? Her little demonspawn brother would break his fast on this man. It was a shame, but by the looks of things Sansa would not be dissapointed. You've changed little Dove, but you're still a terrible liar.
She was dragged into the modest chamber and bound to the chair. "Leave us," Sansa commanded the guards.
Sansa removed the gag that had been put on earlier.
Cersei gasped for breath for a moment.
"I am still the Queen Regent!" Cersei tried to scream but her voice was already hoarse from being gagged.
"I will see you drown in the blood of traitors you little cun…"
She did not even see it coming.
Slap
The sound rippled across her face before she felt it.
"Traitor…traitor," she felt slender fingers dig into her hair and clench into tight fists.
"It was you, all along it was you!" Sansa had no fear of her this time, now that she was bounds hands and feet to a chair.
"You had your children with your brother! How do you have any right to judge me?"
Cersei knew that her face must have betrayed something.
"My father was right, and you killed him. You killed your husband. You even killed your own kin when you no longer needed them, because they knew the truth."
Lancel deserved what he got, but why does everybody think I killed Kevan?
"My family lost everything because of you! I lived a lie because of you!"
Cersei could not help but smile defiantly as she noticed the tears beginning to well up in Sansa's eyes. "Welcome to the game, Little Dove. I told your father once, that in the game of thrones, you win or you die."
This time Cersei saw the slap coming.
"You lost the game, you vile kinslayer." Her voice was low; Cersei could not help but notice the hard undertones of her voice.
A knock on the door interupted her captor's thoughts. "I've found her," the voice from behind the door seemed to say. "Come in," Sansa called back. Cersei was unable to resist the gag that was put on her once more.
Lanna, the girl who Cersei had just learned was her niece entered the room.
"My lady, you wanted to speak to me?"
"Yes," Sansa's voice went soft. "It's time we talked about your father."
Brienne
"You know Harrenhal better than me, my lady." Podrick Payne was intimidated by the size of the immense citadel. Hyle Hunt nodded in agreement.
They passed the opened gate unchallenged. The armies of the Vale had been not been here two days, but they had wasted no in making the repairing many of the buildings to shelter against a winter that would soon be the coldest in living memory.
Much had changed Brienne noticed, more than 20,000 troops were camped here and more were coming. The filth she remembered had mostly frozen, and with it, thankfully many diseases that plagued the camps.
The stares of bored soldiers followed her and her disfigured face. When she was tired of the stares, she donned the helm that had once belonged to the Hound.
Her companions stopped in the great courtyard and gaped at the five great towers.
Brienne wondered how likely she was to find one of Catelyn Stark's daughters in this place. The chances probably were not so high. She had no doubts that useful information would be found here.
Catelyn Stark was a ghost, but she had sworn an oath to protect two innocent girls, who were wanted dead or alive by many.
She noticed Podrick casting a shy glance at a passing girl near his age. The girl's appearance made Brienne's heart skip a beat. The girl looked like a Lannister, and could have easily been Jaime's bastard daughter if she had not known him as well as she did.
Brienne tried not to think of Jaime. She had wronged him, but she had done it for the lives of Podrick and Ser Hyle. His life had been in danger because of her, but he had beaten the odds against him. He had forgiven her afterwards, but he could not trust her anymore.
The thought that Jaime could no longer trust him made her sadder than she thought she could imagine.
What she saw next, turned her blood to ice.
"Maid of Tarth, is that you?"
It was Ser Shadrich.
She pulled open the snout-shaped basinet to give the Mad Mouse a better look.
The handsome cocksure hedge knight flinched from her.
"I don't know who looks prettier, you or the first Hound."
Brienne prayed that this wiry little snake would not find either of Lady Catelyn's daughters. But she could also see the look in his eyes of a cat lean and hungry about to swallow a wounded bird.
"You came at a good time, wench."
Only one man can call me that. Podrick and Hyle expressed displeasure at the word.
"Her name is Brienne," Ser Hyle lazily spat at the hedge knight's foot.
The man only laughed, "You all came at a good time, We have a wedding and a feast two hours hence."
Sansa
She led Lanna into an adjacent chamber so that they did not have to feel Queen Cersei's hateful glare. Sansa wanted to get away from her right now. It wasn't because she feared Cersei anymore, but because of the bitterness she felt looking at the queen.
The thoughts of Cersei were now thankfully overshadowed by what she was about to tell Lanna. Sansa could not help but wonder how Jon must have reacted to the news of his parentage.
Littlefinger had told her about Lanna's parentage when she asked about the tower cell that only briefly held her.
"Have they told you who he is?" Sansa asked.
Lanna looked down, "your father and everyone else calls him the imp."
She nodded.
"He is an evil man, he raped my mother."
Sansa was actually taken aback at the statement. Tyrion was many things, but she could not see him as one who forced himself on women.
"He is your father, and if he knew of your existence, he would do anything to find and meet his daughter." She knew that he was fiercely protective of things and people that he regarded as his.
"How would you know?" Lanna was suspicious, and rightfully so of her assured tone.
Oh, here it comes
"Because I married him."
Lanna looked at her dumfounded, "but you were a baseborn maid of four and ten, before today." She was envious of the legitimization that Queen Cersei had wasted on a trueborn girl, and tried hard not to let it show.
"Lanna, my name is not Alayne. I am not the daughter of Lord Baelish." She felt a strange relief wash over her as she said the words. "I am Sansa Stark, the trueborn daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully." She could feel Alayne fading away.
"Two years ago, I was wed to your father against my will. His family wanted my claim to Winterfell. Your father did as he was bid, but he was…unwilling to consumate the marriage with someone almost old enough to be his daughter."
The dumbfounded expression on Lanna's face twisted into a grin that reminded her of Tyrion.
"Does this mean I can call you mother?"
For a brief instant, Sansa was mortified and wondered if Jon had ever asked her mother such a question. A Lannister wanted to call her mother, and it was not even her own child. Does she jape or does she want someone to call family? The girl was as old as she was, but acted more like Randa. She did not want the girl to feel rejection either.
If I ever had a child, I would never let them like grow up like Jon.
"Yes, I suppose you can."
Lanna gave a cry of delight and threw her arms around Sansa.
After all, they were family.
Jaime
The rowboat plowed into the hardened sand on the banks of the ruby ford. The boat he had stolen several days ago. From there he just floated down the familiar Red Fork. He found a small purse of coppers and a silver stag hidden in the boat.
Times had changed, wherever he went, he was a fugitive. To go west would ensure captivity and eventual execution.
To the south was Aegon he had heard, who had somehow survived the sack of King's Landing. This had the mark of Varys all over it.
To the East was King's Landing, maybe Tyrion would try to reason with the daughter of Aerys, before his head was struck off.
To go north would mean facing the Freys who had no love for him, or worse Stannis, who would execute him for the three treasons known as Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella, the worst part was that he deserved it and he knew it.
He hid the boat, under a tree that had fallen on the riverside.
Once the boat was safely concealed, he began walking north on the Kingsroad. He had walked no more than a mile when he saw the crossroads inn.
Jaime had thought about the risks of entering the inn, on the way from the ford. From what Brienne mentioned, the inn was not frequented as often as it used to be.
Jaime Lannister was no stranger in the Riverlands, but few would recognize him, in the clothes he now wore. His hair was roughly cut on the journey down the red fork; he wanted to be able to pass as a lowborn.
As he approached, he became conscious of the sound of a hammer on steel. It was a quiantly pleasant sound to hear. Jaime stopped by the place to momentarily bask in the warmth of the smith. The door was open, and that was when he saw the boy.
The wench had mentioned this man, he remembered. What was his name?
She said he was the spitting image of Renly, but in all honesty he looked more like Robert Baratheon after the Trident.
He had the same curled black hair and blue eyes of Robert, and no doubt had his uncommon strength. The boy looked to have seen seventeen namedays.
Gendry. That was his name.
He looked towards the anvil, and noticed that the boy was beating a helmet into shape.
"What's take that you're making there," Jaime startled the lad.
"A helm"
Jaime studied the helm for a moment, "Is that a bull?"
The young man only shrugged, "it matches my sigil."
"And you are?"
"Ser Gendry of Hollow Hill?"
"Where did you get your knighthood?" Jaime had a nagging suspicion, but he wanted to know.
"Lord Beric gave me mine. I took a bull for my sigil, because people say that I'm stubborn as a bull."
Jaime noticed a shield that had a black bull on a grey field.
He may be a Baratheon after all, thought Jaime. He carried the demeanor of a bastard, which was clear enough. The knight was probably one of King Robert's children. He would have to be careful here. Jaime remembered hearing that following Robert's death, Cersei had tried to kill as many of Robert's bastards as she could find.
Jaime picked up a short sword that was lying around on a nearby table,
"What kind of knight smiths?" Jaime asked curiously.
Gendry shrugged, "I don't think there are many knights like me."
Ha, I used to think the same thing.
"I might be lowborn, but I protect the weak and defend the innocent. What is a Knighthood to a man who lives by his vows?"
That hurt.
"This is good work, where did you learn to make a good sword?"
"I grew up in King's Landing on the Street of Steel. I was an apprentice to Tobho Mott."
Jaime was familiar with Tobho Mott's shop. As expensive as the place was nobody in King's Landing made armor like they did.
"That is a pretty good shop, how did you end up in this war-torn hellhole?"
"My master got sick of me one day, and kicked me out. I joined a Night's Watch caravan that left the day Lord Stark lost his head."
Jaime decided to sit down as he heard the story of how Gendry had come to be here. When he was done, Jaime could not help but ask why he left the brotherhood to smith for an orphan house.
"I felt a hole in my life, when Lord Beric, Hotpie, and Arya all left. The orphans, they became my family. The only family I really knew." Arya Stark you mean.
Brienne had told him that Lady Arya had somehow escaped King's Landing, and ended up in the company of the brotherhood much like this man. Last he had heard the Hound had kidnapped Arya Stark so that he could ransom the girl herself. Sandor Clegane was dead however, and gods only knew where Catelyn Stark's daughters were.
He was rambling, "My mother died when I was very young, and I never had a father."
Jaime smiled, "I have a son of my own, but he does not even know who his father is."
The boy of seven and ten frowned, "Then how are you a father? A father is someone who supports his children and raises them as his own. Even if he does not like the mother."
Gods be good, am I hearing this from a bastard of Robert's?
It was too much for him to take. Jaime got up and left the smith for the inn. Upon entering the inn, he instanly felt the eyes of the orphans on him.
Ignoring them, he approached the woman appeared to be running the establishment, and produced two coppers.
"A hot meal if you please."
A bowl of warm onion soup was set before him.
"Do you plan to spend the night here?"
"No, I just needed a meal," Jaime was glad that he had met Gendry; this place stunk of the Brotherhood without Banners.
He produced another copper, "I want some ale, wine, whatever you have these days."
"We have some ale," the innkeep announced meeky, "but it's not very good."
"The ale will be good enough; it's been bloody cold these days."
The ale was a little watery, but he felt the warmth surge through his veins.
"Any news lately?"
"Same old, same old," the woman told him. "Every army in the Seven Kingdoms is coming to Riverlands."
"Where are you from," the innkeeper asked.
"Fairmarket."
"Where are you heading?"
The stares of the fatherless orphans were all he needed to make his decision.
Seven save me.
Next Up: Samwell, Tyrion, Cersei. Does anyone have a request for a certain POV (that has at least one chapter in this story) right now?
Note: Just in case you're wondering, Jaime has not yet learned about the Jon Snow bombshell.
FYI: I won't have as much time in the coming months to write this, but the good news is that as the story moves on, it becomes easier to write.
As always, favorite, follow and above all, review. I really enjoy the feedback. Just for fun, what would your setting for a major showdown be? Let me know via review or PM.