Updated 4/7/2019: Edited for a smoother read.

Chapter 15

Jaime IV

"You're not getting away from me this time, brother," Tyrion said, opening the door.

Jaime rolled his eyes. His brother would corner him while he was taking a piss. "Close the damn door!"

He closed it as asked, but Jaime felt a tug on the back of his pants and he strained his neck to see Tyrion had pulled the keys from his pocket, locked the door, and now twirled them like a jailer.

"You've been avoiding me."

Jaime finally finished and laced his pants, nudging the chamber pot back under the bed and turned to glare at his brother who gave it back in equal measure. "It wouldn't take much effort on my part to tear those keys from you," he said, fire dancing in his eyes.

"Even you don't have the gall to do that to me," Tyrion replied with the extra emphasis, his voice a jubilant red. He knew best of all who Jaime's biggest weakness was.

Jaime towered over him, still glaring, but then he went and sat on his bed. "I haven't been avoiding you. I've been avoiding this conversation."

"Who are you and what have you done with my brother? He's not given to saying clever things."

"I've been reading. You're not the only clever Lannister anymore. But fine, I'll answer your questions and you will be satisfied with all of my answers."

Tyrion regarded him silently for a moment and then nodded. "I guess that will do. Now, you knew Jon was really Rheagar's son. How?"

"I already answered that question. Next."

"Not to my satisfaction."

"That's too bad, because that's the only answer you'll get. Move on."

"Was this all planned before the bear attack?"

"No. We had planned on going back to King's Landing, laying low, and plotting our next move or waiting for the next move to be made. It was because of my imminent beheading that Aemon leapt into action. He rather admirably saved my sorry ass when I'm the one who's supposed to be protecting him," Jaime grumbled, his brow furrowed. It felt like his debts would never end with Aemon, but it was just as well. It would be yet one more thing he could point to that proved his loyalty.

Tyrion gave him a pitiable look that Jaime hated. "I never thought our sister would stoop so low."

I should've known, Jaime thought and his eyes narrowed further. After the lengths Cersei had gone to in his last life to drag him back to be with her, he should have imagined she'd stoop to raping to get her definition of a perfect child. Our uncle must be a terrible lay. She had somehow managed to seduce their Uncle Tygett into bed with her. Even he hadn't believed an uncle of theirs would allow himself to be so easily enticed, but it had happened. Cersei certainly likes keeping it in the family. Not for the first time he wondered if that was supposed to get a rise out of him - in more ways than one - but it just convinced him that Cersei was a walking disease to sleep so casually with their uncle.

"I noticed you are in a number of closed meetings with Stark and the king. Now, I'm not foolish enough to ask about the content of those meetings," Tyrion said, seeing the way his shoulders tensed and a mulish look appear on Jaime's face, "but you're no longer a member of the Kingsguard. What role do you have to play in all of this?"

Jaime regarded him for a moment and then said, "It's going to be public knowledge soon enough. King Aemon has made me Hand of the King."

Tyrion's eyes bulged in a way that was comical. Jaime smirked.

"You?! Begging your pardon, Jaime, but you're not exactly the type to be Hand. It requires tact and diplomacy and cunning, something which you frankly are rather short of if I'm to be honest."

Not anymore, brother. It helps when you have foreknowledge of certain events, he thought, but again, he wasn't about to tell Tyrion that, even if he miraculously believed him. "Those are traits that can be learned. Don't pretend like they're cookies and fate decided to hand you more of them than me. I grabbed my own share."

Tyrion had to the good grace to look sheepish. "I know you can be smart brother, but...for so long you were under the thumb of our evil sister and then after that you had the personality of a boulder. How was I to know you were...learning? Planning? What were you doing?"

"Biding my time," Jaime replied. "We're done here. I have another meeting with the king."

Tyrion handed the keys back over grudgingly, but fell into step beside him and Jaime accommodated his walking pace before he realized it.

"I will be leaving tomorrow on a diplomatic mission," Jaime began. "I want you there to help counsel the king. He needs a good working knowledge of King's Landing."

"Where are you going?"

Jaime hesitated a moment and said, "I doubt my mission is secret, but I'd prefer to let the king announce it on his own. It will be some time before we see each other again."

"What about the children?"

"They should stay here. I'd hate to think what our father would do to them if he got ahold of them," Jaime replied grimly.

"I'd like to think that father isn't even that cruel, but...I have no idea what he'd do if he met them again. They're safer here," Tyrion agreed.

They split at the entrance to the godswood where Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Preston Greenfield stood guard at the entrance and they eyed both Lannister brothers warily, but they both nodded as Jaime walked past them. They were informed about his new status in the eyes of the king and while Ser Preston seemed troubled by it, he did not comment.

Once more Jaime found himself in the company of Aemon, Ned, and Ser Barristan, but this time it was broad daylight with shafts of sunlight occasionally breaking through the otherwise thick canopy. The only clearing with sunlight was where the heart tree and the pond rested. Aemon stood on his favorite spot directly beneath the tree, with its bleeding eyes leering over him. It seemed to give his words weight here.

"Jaime," Aemon replied, with a genial smile and he nodded at him. His voice was turquoise. While he projected a demeanor of calm there was an underlying excitement that trembled with the ripples.

"Lord Jaime," Ned and Ser Barristan replied dutifully. If they chafed at having to defer to him they didn't show it. Both of their voices were varying shades of blue. Considering the revelations that both of them had heard, he was surprised Lord Stark was that calm around him.

"Your Grace, Lord Stark. It's not the dead of night, so I'm assuming secrecy isn't much of an issue?"

"Of course," Aemon said. "I wanted to discuss your diplomatic mission." Jaime nodded at him to continue. "We've sent the letters out and we should be receiving answers soon, hopefully before you leave, but regardless I want you traveling. If I need to, I'll forward correspondence to Casterly Rock."

"If you do that, make sure what you're sending is meant to be widely known. I wouldn't put it above my father to read my mail."

"Noted. While I am confident in your mission to bring me much needed allies, the onus is on us to prove that I am who I claim to be. Uncle, I don't think your word is good enough here."

"I would think not, considering you've tainted your famous honor," Jaime said, his eyes flashing angrily.

"I have no qualms about staining my honor as I did it for the love of my sister and blood," Ned replied, glaring back.

"Enough! We've been through this! Though your anger may be righteous, it's getting in the way of our talks. No more will be said on the topic of honor," Aemon snapped. His voice turned a rather violent red and cracked at them like a whip. Ned grimaced and nodded. Jaime didn't bother looking contrite, but he stayed silent. "Very well. We can write the Citadel and make sure Septon Maynard's journal is delivered to you at the Reach, but I would prefer further proof. Uncle, do you have any proof of our claim?"

"I-I do. I admit, I never thought it would ever see the light of day. If you would allow me, I will go and retrieve it now."

Aemon waved him off. "We'll be waiting here."

They watched him stride off purposefully. Aemon then turned to the Lord Commander and asked, "Ser Barristan, would you be so kind as to find Lady Catelyn and bring her here?"

"At once, Your Grace," The old knight said, bowing deeply and heading out of the godswood.

A comfortable silence fell between them as they waited, but it didn't take long for Jaime to break it. "Aemon, I need a royal decree from you."

"What for?"

Jaime swallowed nervously and then said, "It was made clear in my letter that I was discharged from the Kingsguard. My father will know. I'll be walking straight into a marriage the moment I hit Lannisport. I need a royal decree from you that states that I will only marry at your blessing and approval of the bride."

Aemon regarded him carefully and grinned. "It will be done. Have a bride in mind?"

"You know who it is," Jaime replied tartly.

"I'm not going to decree that you marry Brienne of Tarth."

"She'll hate my guts if you do. I must win her over. Give me that opportunity and I'll manage," Jaime replied, feeling his heart swell in anticipation for the first time since he restarted his life. He had another chance to be with Brienne, but he hadn't dared to hope for it until now. Now...would she still be susceptible to his advances? "Oh, I will need a few copies of that decree. I am certain my father will take great delight in shredding a few."

Aemon chuckled. "Let me know if you need more."

"That won't be necessary," Jaime replied. "If he shreds them all, that'll be directly violating a king's order, tantamount to treason. He owes you a large debt and as everyone is so fond of saying, 'A Lannister always pay his debts.' I will be sure to collect on your behalf."

Aemon grimaced. "Thank you. I trust you, but...be careful. You'll be leaving with only a handful of men. He has the entire Westerlands."

Jaime nodded absentmindedly, already envisioning his encounter with his father and a small smirk played on his lips. "I have a plan."

Ned reappeared bearing a smooth, polished wooden case. Jaime frowned at it for a moment and then his eyes widened. "You've had Prince Rhaegar's harp?"

Lord Stark looked uneasy as he looked up at him and nodded. "I'm surprised you recognized it."

"Why wouldn't I?" Jaime growled. Aemon shot him a warning look. He struggled to get control of his temper. Aemon needed his uncle, so he had to put up working with him. It's a shame he's not the one heading out on months long mission.

Ned undid the latches and tilted the case back. Inside was a small harp with a red mahogany finish. The wood at the top had been intricately carved into a dragon head and there was a seal with the three-headed Targaryen dragon carved on one end. The various dials at the top were a faded combination of what he presumed to be silver and pewter. The instrument itself appeared to be in perfect condition, wherever it had been locked, but a multitude of strings were snapped and frayed all over.

Jaime reached out gingerly to touch it and expected his hand to get slapped away like he was an errant child, but no one did and rubbed along the top where the dragon carving had been made. "I don't know anything about instruments, but it looks to be in good shape. Might be a touch faded. The strings need to be restrung but this is undoubtedly Rhaegar's harp. He never would have parted with it, unless he was giving it to someone he loved even more than it," Jaime said, looking at Aemon meaningfully and if he wasn't mistaken, his friend was swallowing back tears.

Now Aemon bent over and pulled the harp up and held it like a newborn babe, also running his hands lovingly along the dragon carving. He plucked at one of the few strings still intact and it just wobbled, too loose in its placing. "Do you think this will be enough to convince the other houses I am his son?" Aemon asked. It was only when he was asking about his father that he seemed more like a boy than a man grown. He looked at Jaime and his uncle with fearful, wondering eyes.

"It gives credence to Stark's claim. Why else would he have the harp? You also have me. I may not have known Rhaegar like Ser Barristan, but I did know him. I can verify that this is his most cherished harp," Jaime replied. He tore his gaze away from Aemon and peered down sadly at the harp. King Aerys was already quite mad by the time he appointed Jaime to the Kingsguard, so the good days - if they could even been called that - hadn't lasted long, but no man who served as a guard to Rhaegar could ever walk away to their next shift with anything other a spring in their step. He was the very definition of hope and Aemon would have to work hard to live up to Rhaegar's potential legacy.

He can do it. He already is so much like his father. More than he realizes, Jaime thought.

"There's also this," Ned said. He opened up a small compartment in the case and pulled out a piece of black cloth. It unfurled into a banner with the Targaryen's three-headed red dragon in bright red stitching.

"I want you to take this harp. Use it as proof of my heritage," Aemon said, laying the harp back down into its case. "And the banner as well."

"Won't you be needing that?"

Aemon chuckled. "I have seamstresses here to help make more. You won't. Please take care of it."

Ned folded up the banner once more and put it in the hidden compartment. Jaime was just buckling up the case when Ser Barristan arrived with the Lady Stark in tow: "I have brought Lady Catelyn, Your Grace."

"Thank you, Ser Barristan."

Jaime was crouched next to the harp and had to look up to see Lady Catelyn and if he wasn't mistaken she looked nervous, though her hands rested casually at her side. In the other life, when Aemon had returned to using Jon, he had explained how Lady Stark detested him. It appeared to be the flaw in Catelyn's otherwise perfect demeanor of savvy noblewoman and esteemed mother. Not quite so perfect now is she? Jaime thought with more than a little glee. So many had looked down on him and the more he learned about them, the more he discovered that they were swimming in the mud right along with him, but were too proud to acknowledge it.

He slung the harp around his shoulder. "I will not let you down, Your Grace. I will protect it with my life."

Aemon looked a touch exasperated at the proclamation. "I'd still prefer you over the harp. Remember that, please?"

Jaime smiled cheekily at him and hurried away. He needed to start packing. He would be traveling with a small escort, so he was going to need no more than four sets of clothes, his sword, and perhaps a set of armor, though nothing quite as extensive as the kingsguard armor. They had determined that Barrowton, a town on the west coast next to a stream that dumped into an inlet likely wouldn't have too many trade ships, so while Aemon preferred Jaime traveled with a larger host of a hundred soldiers, they pared it down to ten.

It'll be a relief to travel with a small group. We'll get to Barrowton faster, he thought. In this matter, time was of the essence.