Author's Notes: Thank you all, once more, for your comments, alerts, kudos, and favorites! Fun fact, this story totals 280 pages and that includes all complete chapters, even ones that have not yet been posted. This is easily the longest story I've ever written and there's still so much more to write! I hope you'll all continue to still follow this! =D

WhoGirl13 - In the other life, Jaime immediately attacked Ned Stark when he learned his brother had been kidnapped. I'd call that a temper. He undoubtedly showed other signs of it in other places in his younger years. His temper and rashness have bled away over the years, but that doesn't mean he's always cool as a cucumber.

So, the reasons aren't outright stated why Aemon wanted to offer both Robb and Sansa to the Tyrells. I'll admit, I think Sansa and Willas would make a good couple, and that's part of it, but Loras is in the Red Keep. They want to make sure the Tyrells don't have it in their minds to betray them, so they were trying to give them an offer they can't refuse.

Chapter 29

Jaime X

He awoke to the cool compress of a stone beneath his face. His breathing was now slow and even and he was loathe to open his eyes. He could hear voices mumbling nearby and despite the pain in his head, he strained to tune in.

" - is not a maester."

"You don't need to be a maester to be a healer."

"You're the maester for the Tyrell's. I don't trust you to treat him and then not run off to tell the Tyrells what you've discovered."

"Maesters are assigned to keeps, not houses."

"Don't try to placate me with that bullshit. Maesters, more often than not, grow attached to the families they serve and in turn do the lord's bidding. I will not suffer it."

It was then he felt a hand splay across his back and rub in a soothing motion.

"I think if Lord Jaime were awake, he'd have a similar opinion to his uncle. Leave him to me." The healer David was speaking in low, soothing tones and he could only imagine that the air would be filled with sound waves as blue as the sky. "His breathing has changed. He's waking. Gerion, you know the rules. Wait outside."

"But David…"

"If he wants to tell you what ails him, he will. But that's up to him to decide. Not us. Now go."

The door finally closed. David whispered, "Lord Jaime, can you hear me?"

Jaime's thoughts were like fireflies that flitted around his skull, scattered. As soon as he thought he caught one, it seemed to slip through his fingers. He couldn't bring any of his thoughts to cohesion, so he just focused on David's voice. "Yes," he whispered as softly as a sigh.

"How do you feel?"

He kept his eyes shut and twitched his muscles. A deep ache seemed to fill all of his muscles and he groaned as the pain shot through him as he flexed. "Like I've been run over by a horse."

"That sounds about right. How's your head?"

"Painful. I want to sleep."

Jaime heard the telltale scratching of a quill on paper. A heat emanated from his right side and he unconsciously sidled up to it to ease the chill that had swept him.

"Don't fall asleep. And don't sit up just yet. Do you remember what happened?"

He pinched his eyebrows and once again tried to catch his thoughts despite the blacksmith that seemed to be hammering his skull. He was at the Tyrells, he had breakfast, they went to negotiations - his eyes flew open and he abruptly sat up. Pain pierced his skull like a knife had been driven into it and his stomach heaved. He vomited, groaned, and laid back down, clutching at his head, thankfully missing the puddle of vomit.

David sighed. "I said don't sit up. Honestly, you listen about as well as your uncle." When Jaime had settled again, he asked, "When did you start having seizures."

"When the bear attacked me," Jaime mumbled.

"I wondered if that injury was more serious. Anything else?"

"No," Jaime breathed.

"Somehow I don't believe you."

That caused Jaime to open his eyes. He turned away from the sour mess of his vomit and glared at David, who was taking notes in a tiny journal. When David finally saw his glare, he returned the gaze unflinchingly. "I told you, I know how to read people. You're hiding something. A man in your position undoubtedly has many secrets. I know you're not going to tell me anything, though, so let's just skip to your treatment. There is very little I can do. I do have a pain reliever that should help with your headache, but what you need most of all is rest. If you'd like, I can summon servants to carry you -"

"I can walk," Jaime growled. He started leveraging himself to his feet and scowled as his legs trembled. He grabbed the chair he'd fallen out of for support and only began moving when he felt stable enough.

David sighed again. "Stubborn bastard."

Jaime staggered for the door and had to stand for a moment as the world swayed before his eyes. When he had collected himself, he opened the door to find the Tyrells, Gerion, and Podrick all waiting outside. Gerion had an uncharacteristically dour expression. Podrick too had an oddly mulish look on his face. They all turned as he stepped out.

"My Lord, are you well?" Willas asked. His voice was a nervous pale yellow and there was no mistaking the alarm in his eyes.

"I will be fine," Jaime said. His voice was a croak and projected none of the strength he had hoped to. Did it really matter now that the Tyrells knew he suffered seizures? "I apologize for the alarm I caused. We'll have to reschedule the negotiations for another time." He didn't bother waiting for their response, merely turned in the direction of his rooms and shuffled off.

His uncle drew level with him as they walked. "What was that? What happened?"

"Not now, uncle," Jaime groaned.

Gerion sighed. "I know I have no right to ask for anything you're not willing to give, but please, consider filling me in. I want to help you."

"There's nothing you can do about it." When they reached his room he opened the door and said, "Goodnight, uncle." As he tried to close it, however, Gerion grabbed it.

"We're family. I insist on staying at your bedside."

"I'm going to be sleeping. I don't need a fucking wet nurse!"

For a moment they stood at the door with their eyes locked.

"Don't mind him, Gerion. Seizures tend to cause severe mood swings," David said, sauntering up to them. He held out a small vial. "Take this. It will ease your headache. Normally, I would say take it with a meal, but…" He shrugged and wandered off as soon as Jaime took it.

Jaime gave his uncle one last glare and turned away, leaving the door open and readied himself for bed. His uncle took the opportunity to step into the room. Jaime examined the potion critically. It was milky with an odd blue coloring. He downed the potion and shuddered. It had a strangely bitter taste that seemed to leave grit in his mouth, changed clothes, and climbed into bed.

"You're going to be bored sitting there."

"Well then, I guess I'll be bored knowing my nephew is safe."

"I'm not a child anymore."

"You'll always be a child to me."

|-The Dragon's Roar-|

The next afternoon found Jaime and Gerion once more sitting across the table from the Tyrells. His seizure, if anything, seemed to have unsettled them. Mace Tyrell was giving him an odd look, Willas had pity written all over his face, but Olenna was as emotionless as ever. Under normal circumstances, Jaime would be livid at receiving Willas' pity, but he'd learned from his previous life that such emotions could be used as leverage. Willas knew what it was like to be a cripple and he might therefore look at Jaime more as a kindred spirit than an enemy. It was something to work with.

"Now, where were we? Ah, yes, I do believe we were discussing the legitimacy of King Aemon Targaryen. I have more evidence," Jaime stood and reached for the harp case that was propped up in the seat next to him. He had completely forgotten the harp in the wake of his impending seizure and remembered it first thing in the morning. He deftly undid the latches and revealed the harp.

Willas gasped. "Is that..?"

"What is it, son?"

Olenna was unmoved.

"This is Prince Rhaegar's treasured harp," Willas replied, sounding breathless.

"That's right," Jaime said.

"It escaped King Robert's rampage?"

"Indeed. Lord Stark had it this whole time."

"Hmm...seems passing odd for the Prince to leave his most treasured harp with a kidnapped woman," Olenna said as she was eying the harp critically.

"May I?" Willas asked, reaching for the harp.

Jaime frowned but nodded. All the same, his heart contracted as the harp was lifted from its case as though he expected Willas to smash it. But the young lord wasn't Joffrey and he held it like it was made of glass.

"Exquisite craftsmanship." Willas plucked at its strings and the notes it produced quivered green in the air for Jaime.

"I am right that Lord Stark has had it this whole time?" Olenna said.

"That is correct, my Lady. Lord Stark took it with him as well as the babe Aemon Targaryen and his sister's bones."

"I'd always heard he raped her." She was gauging his reaction.

He flicked his eyes down to her coldly. "You forget, my Lady, I was a member of the Kingsguard when Rhaegar was still alive. Unlike his father, he was not capable of rape."

"How can I trust your judgment, Kingslayer?" Her voice was orange with challenge.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to wield that like a weapon," Jaime replied, his voice having taken on a color of dark red. "I am the Kingslayer no longer. King Aemon has pardoned me of that."

"A king we may not recognize the legitimacy. Of all the people he could have sent, why did he send you?"

They were all watching him. Mace Tyrell was quiet for once and he wondered if his mother and son had ordered him not to speak at all.

Jaime actually smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. It was as cold as a winter's night. "Because I am a Lannister, my Lady, and we always pay our debts. One way or another, you will bend the knee."

The tension was such that Jaime thought for a moment the strings on the harp might snap, but in the next moment, Olenna nodded and said, "I had to know what we were dealing with. You've changed, Lord Jaime Lannister. Your blood used to run as hot as a raging bull's. You seemed to have since taken a page out of your father's book."

Jaime's insides squirmed at being compared to his father, but he hoped it didn't show. He sat back down again and said, "Now that we have that out of the way, let's discuss terms."

Mace Tyrell bristled. "Wait a moment...we haven't even decided to pledge our allegiance to you!" All eyes turned to him at once and he cowed, even under the gaze of his own son and mother.

"Don't be a fool, Mace. The dragon already has the North, the Riverlands, the Westerlands, and likely the Vale. And I've heard rumor that Dorne might even be appeased enough to join when they receive the Mountain. If that happens, we will be the odd one out. A king will take notice of that," Lady Olenna said, "especially if he offered an alliance once and we rejected it."

Mace spluttered for a moment and then cried, "What about my son?! What about Loras?"

Willas sighed and his shoulders slumped. "As much as I love my brother, he should've returned when we commanded him to. He didn't. He made his bed and now he shall lie in it."

Mace looked flabbergasted. Jaime hoped the astonishment didn't show on his face. They seemed rather callous just throwing Ser Loras under, but he had a feeling his own father would have done the same in regards to either Tyrion or Cersei if the situation had arisen. I suppose it did arise, but that was taken entirely out of my father's hands, Jaime thought soberly. Whatever was here, Jaime had a feeling that Loras' pleas had been endlessly debated among family members to the point where it was now a tired topic.

"Apart from the betrothals you've proposed, what are your terms?" Willas asked. He looked pale, but resolute.

"There is only one stipulation regarding the marriages. Robb Stark and Margaery are of age at six-and-ten. Lady Sansa, however, is only four-and-ten and Lord Stark wishes the betrothal to stay in place until she is six-and-ten," Jaime replied.

"That's more than fair. Anything else?"

Jaime considered him for a moment and said, "I am prepared to offer the Tyrells a seat on the Small Council, however I have one condition. It must be filled by you, Lord Willas."

Willas blinked in astonishment. "Me?"

"Yes, I must insist," Jaime said. He and Aemon had discussed small council positions and Jaime related the tale of how Mace Tyrell ended up as Master of Ships. They'd rather not have that buffoon in charge of anything larger than a dog kennel.

Olenna nodded with a pleased smile. "I see the king already has good sense."

Willas contemplated for a moment and then said, "I just have two...demands."

"And they are?"

"We demand that either a daughter of mine or a daughter of Margaery's be betrothed to Aemon Targaryen's heir."

Jaime's lips curled in sneer. "That's awfully bold. I am not comfortable bargaining the King's future heir. If that is a demand you want considered, you'll have to bring it up with him and Robb Stark. Next demand."

Willas' frown deepened, but he conceded with a small nod. "We will not accept a denial of this one. You will not harm my brother, Ser Loras Tyrell."

There's the family protectiveness, Jaime thought and his expression softened. "I will personally guarantee that Ser Loras will not come to harm. Though it is up to you to curb any future foolish tendencies."

Lady Olenna's eyebrows raised. "Personally, hmm? I'd be curious to see how you achieve that."

Jaime's eyes were like chips of stone. "I will not fail."

Once the negotiations were finalized, they broke for lunch and then Willas retired to the solar to write letters and call up the banners. It would take at least two weeks for everyone to arrive. The Redwynes were commanded to sail to King's Landing, even though their ships would reach Blackwater Bay hopefully long after the Red Keep was taken. Robert had, among other things, squandered the funds for the upkeep of the navy. They would need at least a few ships on hand in the event that Stannis decided to sail for King's Landing as he had previously. Jaime sent a letter to Riverrun in the hopes that Aemon would receive it.

The news of the alliance had also prompted a frenzy of activity from the Shepherds. They had managed to secure a work area from the Tyrells. The men and even a few women on hand, including Delphine, worked tirelessly with herbs and ingredients, boiling mixtures and water. Jaime asked David what was going on.

The old healer was looking manic and he seemed to bristle at the interruption. "We're going to war! There's going to be injuries! We'll need potions. Now, out! We're busy!"

He was shoved rather unceremoniously out the door, though it was not closed. Callum stood guard outside it and gave him a smile and a bewildered shrug. "I recommend you just stay out of David's way. He heeds no one when he gets like this."

Gerion and yet another Shepherd mercenary named Geoffrey were set to watch the children. Gerion was in the midst of training the twins, Monty and Matthias, swordplay. As there was very little else to do, Jaime watched and felt his fingers twitch. He was itching to get in some sword fighting. Gerion seemed to sense his mood and asked for a spar; Jaime obliged.

His uncle had clearly picked up some new moves and styles of fighting being across the sea for so long and Jaime was impressed with the fight he put up, almost catching him off guard a time or two. And still Jaime took the fight.

The commotion had attracted the ladies in High Garden and it seemed a good portion of them swooned when he defeated his uncle. Margaery wasn't among the swooning, but she applauded all the same, and showered him with complements. He spent much of the rest of the week in the training ring, continuing with Pod's squireship and getting wrangled into showing the twins the basics as well.

He greeted some of the lords when they showed up, chief among them Lord Tarly and his son Dickon. He was polite and remembered the son's name. He had been working hard to rein in the Lannister arrogance. It could be useful for posturing, but Aemon needed a Hand who didn't belittle his allies. Even so, he was rather gruff with the Tarlys. He disliked how Randyll Tarly had treated his firstborn Samwell. Although a little bumbling and rambled entirely too much for his own good, he had been a well meaning lad with an unparalleled knowledge of history and the lore surrounding the Long Night that quite simply had come in useful. And of course he was the last person alive with any kind of healing knowledge, sticking with him to the very end, despite his self-proclaimed cowardness. He hadn't deserved his fate to be stuck at the Wall. He and Aemon had discussed changing it, but ultimately had decided he would prove more useful at the Wall to take Maester Aemon's place as he had before.

And Tarly also reminded him a little too much of his own father.

Finally, just when Jaime was starting to get antzy from Aemon's lack of response, Willas came to him and said, "Lord Jaime, we're ready. We leave for King's Landing at dawn."