Chapter 11: Road to Redemption

Eliana

There had been no time for mourning. Someone knew of our location, possibly of our destination and purpose as well, and there could be no delay if we hoped to save Lyanna and her…and Jon — if we wanted to reach Dorne alive.

I could understand that.

Understanding, however, didn't make knowing Aegon's corpse was traveling with us in a makeshift coffin any easier.

They had taken apart the wagon the children and I had been using and made a box out of the wood. It had been lined with his blankets and my finest sheets and strapped to the back of Brude's horse.

It was….

No.

I couldn't think on that yet.

Young Daemon Sand was now riding with Farren, Rhaenys sat in front of Oberyn, and I had a beautiful russet sand mare to myself. This new mode of travel was difficult, however, and I doubt I would have been left to ride on my own had we not been so desperate and in need to move quickly. It was clear the horses could not be weighed down unnecessarily, but I struggled to keep up with the rest of the group. I had only had a couple of riding lessons in my old life (thankfully my incompetence was overlooked as Elia hadn't had the opportunity to ride much due to her health), but traveling on horseback was more physically taxing than I had imagined. More than I remembered. Perhaps it was simply the distance we were covering daily, but it felt like more.

Ever since I landed myself in Westeros, all things physical seemed harder than usual. It had to be the limitations of Elia's frail body but at least it felt like it was getting easier every day. Slowly, and only marginally but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in its teeth.

I guess it doesn't really matter either way.

What mattered now was getting Rhaenys back home to Dorne, where she would hopefully be safe from whoever had sent those men to…

…where she'd be safe.

I'd have skipped Lyanna and Jon altogether if I could, but I had promised Ned. I was next to useless in this world, but I could at least do that much — at least try to save someone else from this pain that clung to me like inferi pulling me down into boggy marshes…

…

…Fuck.

I just remembered the White Walkers!

Damnit! No. I couldn't think about that now. That was twenty years away. I probably wouldn't live to see it…

…

Still…

Note to self: ask to be cremated.

Ned

After that night in Oberyn's tent, it had been three days before Elia had spoken to anyone other than her brother or daughter. She had kept to herself as much as possible, only joining them once the small coffin had been finished as everyone paid their respects to one who, in kinder circumstances, could have been their king.

She had looked away as her baby was placed in its temporary resting place, and had not said another word about the boy since.

It nagged at his mind that this was not a good thing, but her grief was fresh and he could not fault her for not wanting to dwell on her loss. Instead, she seemed to force herself to make inane conversation with anyone who approached. Every subject was light. Every smile was empty. Every laugh was hollow.

"We are half a day's ride from the Tower," came a voice to his left, breaking him out of his thoughts. It was Oberyn. Surprising, since the man had been avoiding conversation with him or any of his party in the past week.

"We have no Maester," was his only response. It had been gnawing at him from the day they had left King's Landing. Elia had shared her suspicions that Rhaegar might have left neither Maester nor midwife with Lyanna at the tower, but there had been no one in that rotten city that he could have trusted with their secret. He could only hope that there would be no complications.

The Prince remained silent for a moment before speaking again. "I did not forge my seventh link, but I completed the six previous, and attended the birth of my daughters… I will help if I can."

Relief had him sagging where he sat on his horse. He assumed this was a way to skirt out of apologizing for his attack on him, but he couldn't care less if the man never said another word to him on the subject. His sister's chances at survival had just been increased and he could ask for nothing more.

"Thank you."

Oberyn waved his thanks away and sped up his horse to match Willam's, but the Lord of Barrowtown sped up his horse in turn and made loud conversation with Theo Wull.

Ned sighed.

We are almost there, Lyanna. Keep strong for a little while longer.

Jaime

He knew he should be paying closer attention to his charges and his surroundings, but he was struggling to keep focus. He couldn't understand why Princess Elia had yet to send him away — why she hadn't demanded his own head for his failure in protecting them. A future king had died on his watch. His Princess had been brutalized. It was a cold comfort to know he had at least prevented the worst with her. Those men should have never made it that far.

Worse, he suspected this was his father's doing. It pained him to even think it, but it was made clear to him in the Throne Room that he had attempted just that already. And how else to explain the fact that he hadn't been killed? The man who clobbered him on the head could just as easily have slit his throat. Why keep him alive?

It was his father. It had to be. He was spiteful at losing his heir once more, never mind that Tyrion would make a far more capable Lord of Casterly Rock if given but half a chance. Even now at only nine, his brother showed great promise. He'd never known a smarter lad. He himself struggled to read, while Tyrion consumed books as though they were meat and fine wine.

Damn it all!

Was the death of his Prince truly the work of his own father?

Jaime gritted his teeth and then sighed, looking towards Elia. It mattered not. He had failed even where he thought he'd serve best. He hadn't been able to speak with her properly since the incident, and when he had requested to be released from his vows and sent to the Wall, she had dismissed the idea.

"Jaime… You would leave me now? Now that I need you more than ever before? My family grows smaller and smaller… If you feel you must repent then do so by protecting Rhaenys to your dying breath. She looks to you as a—she looks to you as a brother, and I cannot handle another loss so close to this one."

There was nothing he could do in the face of those words but continue to serve. It did not lessen the weight on his soul, however. It did not simmer his rage. It did not absolve him of his guilt.

He shrunk into himself further as Oberyn's horse slowed and then kept pace next to him. Jaime had never been one to shy away from attention, but in the last few days how he wished he were beyond people's notice. A tough thing when his armor shone a bright gold. He'd been so proud of the gaudy thing when his father had first gifted it to him. He'd been unable to bring the white as it would have been treasonous to imply he was still serving a king, but he had brought the gold. Now he swore to himself he would trade it in for something far less ostentatious as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

In the meantime, it appeared his Princess's brother had words for him.

"If your head is not in it, you will get them killed as well."

Jaime didn't flinch away from his words. He knew the Prince spoke true.

"I am aware. I begged your sister to send me away, but she refuses," he responded with frustration.

"As she should. What kind of Kingsguard leaves his post when his charges' lives are clearly in the most peril. It's cowardly to even consider it," he growled, dark eyes glaring into his own, "If you truly wish to make penance for your failures you do so by never letting something like this happen again! You work to uncover the party behind the plot and then neutralize the threat as soon as it is discovered."

Oberyn paused in his chastising and turned to look in front of him once more, appearing deep in thought. He took a deep breath and when he continued his tone was calmer though no less angry. "That guilt you feel. That rage. It serves no purpose turned inward. Use it as an arrow in your quiver — sharpen its point daily until you discover your target and then let it fly loose. Let it impale the eye that sought to do her harm. Let it pierce the heart that wished her evil. Then take your golden sword and remove the head that plotted her and her children's demise."

A shiver ran down Jaime's spine, but he took the older man's words to heart. He may not be a Kingsguard in truth anymore, but he was his Princess's sworn sword and he had vowed to protect her and her children to his dying breath. He would do so, but he swore to himself he would bring down the orchestrator of this plot with his bare hands if need be — even if it turned out to be his father. Especially if it turned out to be his father. He would have to take responsibility for the actions of his kin…

He would not fail her again.

A/N:

(3 chapters in less than a week? I am on a ROLL lol)

Well, we have climbed out of that ocean of misery if only temporarily. There are still losses to come, but I promise to try and get through them quickly. I don't like writing depressing scenes, but they're a necessity at times.

On that note, someone mentioned that I didn't give enough warning to really encompass what happened in chapter 10, and it was something I had worried over even before it was brought to my attention. What does everyone else think? Should I add a warning at the beginning of the first chapter? Maybe change one of the genres? It's Game of Thrones, so I thought I was covered warning-wise as I don't want to give things away, but what are your thoughts? I appreciate the feedback.

REVIEWS:

InfinityMask: There are a lot of people that would benefit from their deaths so… who knows?

FrenchWhiteFox: Thank YOU for reading! 3

I-ZackNu: I wanted to PM you to apologize for the oversight, but couldn't figure out how. I'm looking into how to make sure it doesn't happen again in the future. Thanks for giving it a try and I hope you were able to find a fic that was a better fit. Good luck to you, reader :)

Dromuthra: I wouldn't have done that just for the sake of it, especially since I don't even want to think of having to write something like that. Same goes for Rhaenys. I couldn't see any way that killing her would aid the plot, so I didn't. I'm trying to make sure that whatever happens in the story it's relevant and not just there to pull on people's emotions needlessly.

ol-11jrw: I do agree with you. There were a lot of paths that I could have taken with Aegon, but I think they would require a story that focused more on him than on Elia. Maybe someday in the future I might tackle that as there were a lot of interesting possibilities for his future.

Flygar: The Martells aren't known for their forgiveness. I grant you that. As for Ned, the burden of responsibility weighs heavily on him. But you're right, there's not much he can do at the moment.

In the game of Thrones, it could be anyone really. There are so many players.

OneWhoReadsTooMuch: Sorry!!! I know it's heavy. It won't all be like that, I promise! I honestly haven't even begun to think of how to deal with Rhae's emotions over this. It is going to be heart-wrenching.

Yeah. Tywin is the worst -_-