Author's Note: Thank you for reading, favoriting, and leaving a comment! I hope you continue to enjoy this fiction!
TRIGGER WARNING: Slight homophobic views in this chapter. I can't see the predominate attitude of Westeros to be accepting, but I try to get past it quickly.
Chapter 33
Jaime XI
The canoe skimmed silently over the still water of the ocean, rocking only with the gentle swell of waves coming in. Jaime's eyes were fixed where the shore should be. The half moon shined through the clouds just enough to see a silhouette of the Red Keep towering up high, but little else. Lord Howland Reed barely caused a ripple as he glided the canoe in. They'd been forced to take a roundabout route to reach the shores.
A lantern light glowed on the beach. It never wavered and never moved. His uncle Gerion assured him it was Cyrus. Once Aemon had given the order, he'd told David to give the signal they had agreed on before sending his man out. The flag of the Shepherds was a Shepherd's Crook and a strange curved sword crossed over one another. They were white on a dark gray field, looking not unlike a pirate's skull and crossbones. According to David, Cyrus had been draping the same flag out the taller windows of the Red Keep about once a week for a few minutes at a time. Apparently David had been watching the Keep like a hawk for it. He figured that if David could see all the way to the Red Keep from their camp then Cyrus could probably see them too.
Perhaps it was because the healer had very little to do. He'd done his best to patch together his father's torture victims, but the most severely injured had passed on. There was no mistaking the glares that David occasionally gave his father behind his back. Apart from Gerion, David and his Shepherds avoided his father like he was a plague.
He could hardly blame them. His father seemed to be more cross than usual. He wondered if it was a combination of him thwarting his marriage plans and also being forced to kowtow to a boy king. Had his father been like this in his last lifetime? Back then Tywin had been in control and now he was forced to do his son's bidding. He had certainly squirmed under his father's iron fist. He had imagined his homecoming would be a grand occasion in his last life, but the only passionate acknowledgement from his father had been his anger upon seeing him handless. If he'd made it back any sooner, he would've been forced to marry Sansa Stark. He shuddered at the thought. It was gratifying being the one in control now. With any luck, he'd meet Brienne in the next couple of days and begin to court her.
He had expected his father to be happy to see Gerion and ecstatic at seeing Brightroar at his waist. While Jaime had been able to identify positive emotions in Tywin's voice, his face had remained perfectly still like they were talking about nothing more interesting than the weather. Tywin clapped Gerion on the shoulder like he was a soldier rather than a long lost family member. Although he remained impassive, there was no mistaking the glee at finally having their ancestral sword back in the hands of their finest swordsman. But the overarching emotion that Jaime detected was anger. He would have to keep his father close.
"Everyone, get down," Howland gave a rushed whisper. It brought Jaime back to the present. A light was bobbing along the shore now apart from the one in the fixed position. Guards. Just as he was thinking it, Cyrus' light went dark. Lord Reed had stopped rowing and everyone waited with bated breath as they followed the progress of the light. He was honestly surprised Renly had the manpower to send anyone down to the beaches. Probably just a couple of goldcloaks doing sloppy rounds. Sure enough, the light went part way down the beach, not quite reaching the area where Cyrus was and instantly turned around, bobbing back the way it had come.
Before the light had even left the beach, Cyrus' light was once more aglow. Jaime was certain he'd heard the footsteps of the guards and had simply ducked back further into the caves to avoid detection.
Everyone breathed and the canoes once more surged forward. The appearance of the guards gave them a renewed sense of urgency. Jaime had to fight to keep himself fidgeting as he tried to contain his energy. He hoped grabbing Renly would be as easy as he said.
Finally, there was a scraping as the canoe reached the shore and Jaime sprang out like a rabbit and pulled the boat ashore before anyone else could get out of the boat. Then he went along and made sure the rest of the four canoes were secure before turning to the light. He couldn't see Cyrus, but it was easy to see the opening of the cave.
He rushed up to the cave, a hand on the hilt of a dagger shoved into his belt. He had left Brightroar back at camp in Pod's care. He peered carefully into the cave.
"Well, don't just lurk there, come in," Cyrus stood deeper in the cave, barely within the ring of light from the lantern, and he waved them over. Jaime almost hadn't recognized him behind his carefully sculpted goatee.
"I'm glad to see you're safe, dear," Delphine slid over to Cyrus like a shadow and wrapped her arms around him. She attempted to plant a kiss on his lips, but he jerked away.
"What is she doing here?"
"She volunteered," Jaime replied, pulling the cloth from his face. "I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't hear of it."
He really hadn't wanted any of the Shepherds, except perhaps his uncle, on this team. However, they were already halfway into this mess with their friend already lodged in the Keep and he hadn't wanted to include more people than was necessary. But their absence from the army would go unnoticed as they geared up for war.
That they had the skills necessary to sneak in still surprised him. He'd asked Gerion about it and he'd received a rather lengthy history of how the Shepherds sponsors had frequently forced them to cut rather shady deals to continue working with the poor and less fortunate. David had considered it worth it, but they were down about three Shepherds who had crossed enemy lines and never returned. After each of those incidences, David would pack up shop and leave immediately, never to return to the city or town again.
"Cyrus, if you can't argue her out of something, Jaime won't be able to," Gerion grumbled.
"He's the Hand of the King. I figured his authority would carry more weight."
"I had neither the time nor the inclination to bother," Jaime said, his own voice colored orange with his impatience.
"Are you still intent on doing this?" A soft voice in periwinkle blue called out to them and just beyond the ring of light, he could see Varys standing with his arms in his sleeves and that ever present passive expression on his face.
"Yes, let's get going before those guards come back."
"You have another way to get us out of here?" Callum asked with raised eyebrows.
"Yes. There are several doors out onto the streets and then we can make our way to the Mud Gate. I don't think the Keep is in any fit state to stop any intruders," Jaime said. He sounded far more confident than he actually felt, but he powered on anyway.
"You shouldn't have any trouble. I dosed the wine," Cyrus said.
Jaime cocked his head. "With what?"
"Something to get them drunker faster. I bet most are already passed out and the rest are too sloshed to know what's going on."
Who are these people? Jaime thought for yet the dozenth time. He had brought them on this mission because none of the Lannister soldiers were trained for this kind of subterfuge, but the Shepherds were.
"Do you know the pathway through the dragon room? There's one that leads outside the city walls and opens at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush. You'll need your lantern for it," Varys said.
Jaime frowned. That must've been the path Tyrion used to meet with me back when I was still Cersei's dog. It sounded like their best shot. "Great. Any idea where Renly is?"
"Well, you should be pleased to know that the easiest part will be reaching Renly. He's taken the room of the Hand of the King for himself. Ser Loras is paying him a nightly visit according to my little birds," Varys replied with an unpleasant giggle.
Jaime scowled. I will burn those sheets first when I take my quarters.
"I'm glad you're here. I feel like I have been living in another world. Everyone's too afraid to talk about the huge army sitting on their doorstep and they spend their days numbing their senses with wine. If there was a fight, they'd all be too hungover to put up much of one," Cyrus said with a troubled frown.
"Really? No one's tried to talk sense into Renly?"
"Trying to speak sense into that man is like trying to talk a shark into not eating you. They're resigned to their fate. 'Anything to deprive the dragon from his throne,'"Cyrus said.
"Anything?" Jaime asked sharply, his mind flitting to the barrels of wildfire still underneath the city.
"I'm afraid your man Cyrus is correct. Renly and Loras have had their ears filled with an endless stream of the atrocities that King Aerys has committed," Varys replied. "I tried to appeal to them for the common folk's sake, but Renly is convinced the king will make him burn as his grandfather did to his enemies. Most of them only follow because Renly is their liege lord. There has been whisperings of a mutiny, but nothing certain."
"King Aemon offered him the chance to keep his title for his surrender."
"He insisted that it was a ruse and they were all still going to die for their treachery. Your lord father torturing soldiers only made it worse," Varys said.
Jaime grinded his teeth. This is the problem with being feared. No one can trust us to not brutalize them, he thought. Of course when he'd been less mature, he mistook fear for deference, but it was after he'd finally seen Cersei for who she was that he could finally see the damage that being a backstabbing Lannister had wrought. Renly's fate wasn't likely to be pleasant, but being burned to death was out of the question.
"We must go," Howland Reed hissed from the cave.
"I have informed my little birds to keep to their beds tonight. You'll only have to worry about guard rotations, but there is no one alert enough to make sure the guards are maintaining their rounds," Varys said. "Do you know how to get to the room of the Hand?"
"Where was it again?" Jaime whispered. He struggled to listen as he peered into the total darkness of the tunnels He was no longer there and was instead back in that other life time crouching and crawling through what had felt like miles of tunnels, searching for his brother after he murdered their father. The tunnels underneath the Tower of the Hand had been a perfect metaphor for his life back then: crawling through a never-ending maze, praying to find the end. It was truly amazing how far he'd come from then. His whole life, both the last one and this one, he had been searching for a cause. The same way some young ladies dreamed of their dashing knight sweeping them off their feet, he had dreamed of being a hero to a great cause. He had never truly outgrown that.
His family had tried desperately to show him that fighting, lying, and cheating on their behalf was a great cause, but that paper facade had fallen in tatters after the death of their father. He had allowed himself to be fooled out of much abused love for his sister until she had finally removed her mask just for him.
Varys turned to leave, but Jaime grabbed his sleeve and said, "One last question: Where's Baelish?"
"Gone."
Jaime scowled. "Elaborate."
"He jumped a ship a month past. He told Renly he was bringing his own soldiers," Varys replied and then giggled like it was a grand joke. With that he pulled out of Jaime's grasp and disappeared into the night.
Littlefinger was yanking Renly's chain. He'd never sacrifice anything for the losing side, he thought. If he were a betting man, he'd suspect Littlefinger was holed up close by, waiting for news about the siege. He'd want to ingratiate himself to Aemon as quickly as possible.
"You ready?" Gerion said, prodding him back to the present.
"Yes, let's go."
They walked carefully through the tunnels. Jaime swept his lantern around to all the side tunnels, every once in a while shaking his head as though that was enough to dispense with the thoughts that assaulted him. They ducked, they crawled on their hands and knees ever forward, and still the others followed him without so much as a question.
Who are these people that they would have such faith in me? Gerion was one thing, but the rest of them? He wasn't even entirely sure he could remember the instructions that Varys had given him.
That was tested when Vicente said, "Varys said it was right."
"Hmm?"
"You're going straight. We have to turn right here."
"Are you sure? I've been here before."
"I'd prefer not to die wandering these tunnels forever, Lord Jaime. It was right," Vicente replied with a bite to his voice.
He trusted Vicente more than himself at this moment. He could easily misremember after his long ago misadventures of stumbling through this darkness.
Finally the chamber opened up. Five doors lined the wall, barred by iron, but what grabbed his eyes was a set of rungs leading through an opening in the ceiling.
"I'm pretty sure this is it," Vicente whispered.
Of course it is, Jaime wanted to snap, but he bit his tongue. How many times had he climbed up and down this same ladder searching for his brother? Times inumberal. He peered up into the passageway and was greeted with an impenetrable darkness, but he couldn't climb with the lantern.
He turned to the group of people following him. "Vicente, I want you to come after me. The rest of you come in whatever order you please. Don't forget to smother the lamp." With that he began climbing with far more boldness than he felt as the darkness enclosed around him. It eased his nerves to hear Vicente following behind him without hesitation.
On and on, they climbed. Jaime was starting to wonder if they were ever going to reach the top when he reached his hand out and found nothing. He reached for the lip and pulled himself up. The passage was small enough that he was forced to crawl. He winced as the stone passage bit into his knees and he tried to squat on the balls of his feet as he felt along the wall. He felt one opening, two, and...he knew he was at the right one when he heard a pleasurable moan.
Moans drifted over to them, and neither one was feminine. It's one thing to know what they do. It's another to hear it, he thought sourly. He pulled on the hook and the hearth slid sideways just enough so he could he peer through to see Loras on top of Renly, moving in a rather familiar motion. Thankfully, Renly was turned away from their direction.
"Vicente," Jaime whispered. "Renly's the one...on the bottom. We need him awake. You detain him and I'll subdue Loras. Let me get ready." He awkwardly felt for a pouch at his waist and pulled out a stoppered bottle and handkerchief. David had prepared for them a clear mixture of what he used to knock out his patients for surgery. It had a sharp smell that made Jaime want to sneeze. He dabbed the liquid onto the handkerchief and put the bottle away.
He leaned against the door and it opened wide enough for him to slip out. He covered the distance to the bed in a few strides.
"Oh gods!" Loras noticed him and fell back, reaching for his sword that was propped up next to the night stand. Jaime grabbed him and stuffed the cloth over his nose and mouth.
"What?" Renly turned to see the issue, but before he could so much as yell, Vicente had a knife to his throat.
"Resist and you die," Vicente hissed.
Loras flailed against him, trying to push him off, but the pungent liquid was doing its work. He grew weaker and weaker until he finally fell limply to the bed. Jaime let him go and checked his vitals to make sure he was still breathing and then he shoved him further off Renly, trying to keep the sheet in place.
"You killed him, you monsters," Renly cried out, grabbing for Loras, only for the knife's blade to dig further into his neck."
"Fear not, he yet lives," Jaime said, glaring down at him.
I-I don't know who you are, but all I need to do is scream and the guards will come running," Renly said, trying to look tough but he was visibly trembling beneath the sheets.
Jaime pulled down the black cloth covering his face and sneered. "Don't be ridiculous, Renly. You can't have guards posted outside your door. What would the Keep think if they knew you liked to get pegged by the Knight of Flowers every night?"
Renly's eyes went wide and whatever color was left in his skin drained. "K-Kingslayer! Wh-what are you doing here?"
"What do you think I'm here for? You're going to surrender the Keep and your title as Lord of Storm's End."
He blinked and looked around at the other three who were there, standing ready, with only their eyes visible. "Just the five of you? I have a Keep full of soldiers. How do you imagine that will happen?"
Jaime gave him a malicious grin. "Don't lie, Renly. You've been bleeding soldiers since my father set up the army outside the Keep. I bet you couldn't even get full rotations out of what you have left." Just the way Renly's eyes shifted told him he was right. "Now, you can either walk out under your own power or be carried out. Which would you prefer?"
Renly looked sullen now, like a child trying to sneak sweets. "I'll walk out," he muttered.
"Get some pants on. Callum, guard the door. We can't have him run."
Callum stood in front of the door with his arms crossed, bearing the lantern, and Vicente removed the knife from his throat. Delphine loitered near the window, clearly insuring Renly didn't try a suicide jump. He was fairly certain that Renly would never have the balls to commit suicide, but he made no comment.
The young Baratheon made it an exercise to put his pants on slowly until Vicente prodded him none too gently with the knife, leaving a mark that trickled blood down his back. Once Renly finally had boots and pants on, Vicente kept the knife on him while Delphine deftly tied his hands and gagged his mouth. Jaime busied himself with tying Loras' hands and feet, just in case he awoke earlier than expected.
"Now walk," Jaime said, pulling up his face cover once more. Vicente followed behind him, guiding Renly with one hand on his shoulder and the knife once more at his back. The others followed closely behind. Unlike the room, which was well-lit with a fire and candles, the hallway was dark and silent in the Tower of the Hand.
"Wait," Delphine's whispered out behind them. "Let me go first. I'm quieter. I'll warn you about any patrols."
She slipped by them like a whisp and there was only a small scraping sound where her feet touched the stairs. Then she came back and waved them down, her hand only just visible in the dim lighting of the stairwell. Renly almost slipped and fell, but Delphine held him up to prevent him from tipping over. Jaime was certain he was doing it on purpose, but it was dark. They stopped at the bottom of stairs; Jaime joined Delphine in looking around.
"I see the guards on the wall, but no one on the grounds so far," she whispered.
"We have to cross the grounds to get to the Keep. We should make a run for it. Uncle, carry Renly. I don't trust him to not trip us up."
They had to take a longer way trying to stick to the shadows. Jaime kept glancing up at the guards on the wall and at the moon. The guards were facing forward looking out onto the streets of King's Landing; the moon kept drifting in and out behind clouds. He paused to wait for a massive cloud to cover the moon and then waved them forward.
Gerion picked up Renly by his legs and threw him over his shoulder. It only took a matter of seconds to sprint across the grounds as quietly as possible, but Jaime's heart was pounding the entire time. As soon as he reached the cover of the overhang, he flattened himself against the wall and held his breath, listening for any warning shouts.
Across the grounds, a guard said, "What was that?" It was far enough away that it was only just heard and his entire crew froze.
"What?"
"I thought I saw somethin'. Just a shadow."
"Prolly a cat, Kalon. It's nothin'. Keep your eyes on the front. That's where the army is."
"It's too dark to see nothin' anyway."
They all let their breath out as quietly as they could manage and Gerion set Renly down once more. They were about to continue when they heard muffled voices from inside the Keep. There was an entrance to Jaime's left and he darted across it to be ready to strike from the other side. He locked eyes with Delphine who nodded.
"What is the point o' this? We shoulda left with the rest o' them."
"You heard what happened to them. Ole' Tywin Lannister skinned them alive. That coulda been us."
"Is that any worse than what we'll be facin' tomorrow?"
"We'll die heroes!"
"Don't believe that claptrap. We'll die traitors."
"You might listen less to Lord Dondar-oof!"
Delphine did a high kick straight into the man's face and at the same time Jaime grabbed the other and once more stuff the cloth to his face. Callum rushed in to help Delphine grab her man and set him down gently inside the door, so that his body would be harder to find.
Once Jaime had finished with his, he turned to her and hissed, "I said no bloodshed!"
"He'll live," she replied.
They hid the other man and continued on down the hallway. Jaime was leading the way in swift strides, feeling the sweat beading his forehead. It was quiet. Too quiet. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of the flames from the torches on the walls. He recalled that Varys said his little birds had hid away for the night, but there oddly didn't seem to be any guards. He kept soothing himself that there could not possibly be a trap waiting for them. Not unless Cyrus made some other shady deal, possibly with Baelish, he thought and felt his palms sweat. Was the concern for Delphine normal or had he manufactured a situationwhere he was in fear for her safety because of what he had planned? Where were the other lords? Dead drunk like Cyrus implied? Thankfully, if they were in the grand hall feasting and drinking, they would skirt that area entirely, likely to run into only guards, but they had to hurry or they'd have to worry about the army waking to prep for the battle.
Would they even prep for battle? If morale is that low, is it possible Aemon could just walk in? He quickened his pace.
He heard and saw a scraping and immediately halted, a hand going to the knife at his waist. He studied the shadows and saw a hulking form by a doorway. There was no mistaking the shine of a steel blade as it was raised to his chest.
"Take one more step and I'll skewer you." Brienne of Tarth's voice blossomed in front of him like a magenta flower.
Jaime felt his heart plummet through his feet and he swayed for a moment as he became light-headed. How often had he imagined hearing her voice again? His instincts kicked in and he pulled the knife and joined its blade to the tip of Brienne of Tarth's sword.
"Careful. If you so much as scream, we'll kill him," Vicente snarled stepping to the side to reveal Renly. His knife was now at Renly's neck and he had Renly by the throat rather than the shoulder. Renly, to his credit, was groaning through the gag and shaking his head in alarm.
About the only sensible damn thing Renly has ever done, Jaime thought, surprised he could connect his own thoughts to anything coherent. He was panting and sweating, hoping that no one noticed the tremble in his hand.
"Put your sword away, my Lady. No one need die," he heard himself say, but it was as if from a great distance.
She stepped out far enough from the shadows that he could just make her out. She was glowering and the torch light flickered sinisterly over her face. "I knew something was amiss when I saw no servants in the halls on the way back to my rooms. And everyone's drunker than usual, collapsing where they sit drunk. It's been most...suspicious." Her voice was a controlled burnt orange.
"Clever wench. Much cleverer than the other lords here," Jaime whispered, his voice a shaky yellow, projecting none of the strength he had hoped. He began to circle, dragging her sword with his knife tip. In a straight fight, she had the reach to do just as she threatened and if there was even a stray hit against the wall, it might bring the entire Keep down on their heads. But she was beholden to Renly's life. He counted on her being paralyzed by Vicente's own threat.
Sure enough, she was flicking her eyes from his to Renly's, knowing full well the trap he was carefully guiding her into, but she followed all the same. He felt his muscles coil as she dutifully matched him step for step. Suddenly she turned to swing her sword to hit Callum in the neck, but Jaime struck with the swiftness of lightning, reaching around to clap the cloth to her face and pulled her back from his team. A violent shrug nearly dislodged him; he barely kept a hold of his own knife.
All the while he held the cloth over her mouth and nose, he whispered into her ear, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Forgive me." Just as with all the others, she finally went limp, but Callum was too late to take her sword and it clattered to the ground, seeming to reverberate through the halls like a rang bell.
"We have to leave. Let's go," Jaime gasped. He set her to lean against the wall and then they hurried down the passage.
"Did you hear that?" A low sounded down the hallway. At the same time, Renly tripped, but Vicente already had such a tight grip on him that he didn't fall all the way. Callum easily scooped the rest of him up and they hauled him around the corner. Once again, they flattened themselves against the wall. Jaime stared when Gerion came around bearing a torch and went further down the hall to limit the light from view.
Jaime turned on Renly. "Try anything like that again and I'll make sure you never walk again." Renly's eyes widened and he shook his head. Then he went to take the lead again, but when he got to Gerion he asked, "You grabbed the torch?"
"Aye, I thought if they didn't have light, they may not find her as quickly."
"Good thinking," Jaime replied. They had to hurry. They were leaving too many unconscious people lying around in hallways. Thankfully, the stairs to the dragon room were just around the corner and he hurried down them. No one cared to venture this far into the Keep and he would agree that it was eerie looking at the dragons' skulls.
The room finally opened up. As they walked further in, the dragon skulls became more pronounced and seemed alive in the flickering of the torch light. Almost everyone in the group gasped as Balerion the Dread's skull loomed over them, seeming about ready to chomp them all in one bite.
"Light the lantern," Jaime said and began to draw in deep breaths. His heart was beating a mile a minute and his thoughts were scattered as he quickly tried to regain some kind of calm and order. He couldn't keep from fretting about Brienne. Of course, of course she'd be the only one alert in the entire Keep! Wonderful start to our relationship. She'll hate me for knocking her out. Yet another hurdle in a long line of many that he'd be forced to overcome.
"Are you well?"
Jaime was startled out of his thoughts by his uncle Gerion who came up beside him.
"Fine, fine. Just...ready to get this over with," Jaime said in a rush.
"Oh good. You seemed a little unsettled with that woman warrior back there. Just making sure you haven't lost your step." There was no mistaking the green thread of mocking in his uncle's voice. He had a feeling if the light was better he would be able to see his eye's dancing too.
"Your concern is noted, but not necessary," Jaime hissed.
Gerion grunted but it sounded an awful lot like a masked chuckle to Jaime.
Jaime grabbed the lantern that was now lit and led the way down the passage. All was quiet. He prayed to the gods that it would last for some time.
"What is that stench?" Callum asked.
"This is part of the sewer of the Keep," Jaime replied, wrinkling his nose as well. He cringed as he felt liquid - likely a mixture of piss and shit - soak into his boats. He'd burn these on top of his sheets as soon as he was able to.
It was almost startling when the cave walls fell away and they found themselves out by the beach. He blew the lantern out and Gerion buried the torch into the sand. Glancing around, he could see that they were dumped out at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush, just as Varys said. Behind them, way up high on Aegon's Hill, the Red Keep towered over them.
"I'll be damned," Gerion whispered.
"That was easy," Vicente crowed quietly, dropping the knife from Renly's neck.
Too easy, Jaime thought with a shiver. Had people just been coming and going through the Keep all these years without anyone knowing about it? Did Baelish know these tunnels? He'd be surprised if he didn't.
"I'd be interested in exploring more of those tunnels," Vicente said, his voice green with excitement as he glanced back once more at the cave.
"Focus," Jaime barked. "We may be outside the city, but we still need to get him to camp. The crannogmen should be here-"
"Lord Jaime," a voice called out. Almost as if summoned, dark shadows that were resting on the water stirred. "We're ready."
They climbed aboard. Jaime pulled Renly into their canoe and forced him to curl up on the floor. "Where's Lord Reed?"
"He decided to return to camp with Lord Varys and Lord Cyrus."
He's not a lord yet, Jaime thought, but he supposed he might as well be. He had promised Cyrus a lordship if he delivered and the musician had clearly done a masterful job of infiltrating the Keep.
Jaime breathed a sigh of relief as the boat was shoved into the water and then started when the bells began ringing in the Keep above.
"A little late now," Gerion said with a chuckle.
"They don't know that," Jaime replied and turned to look forward to their destination. Now that the hard part was accomplished, he began to stew over the one thing he had been desperately trying to keep at arm's length: Brienne.
The first time we touch and I knock her out, he thought, biting his lip to prevent the longing groan that wanted to escape. He had waited so long to see her again and it was once more as an enemy. At least it was likely to be short-lived, but it would take some work to let go of her newfound grudge.
He clenched his fists to release the tension he felt in his shoulders. They had never consummated their relationship in the previous time because he had promised to marry her after the Long Night, to ensure her honor went mostly unsullied. They had fooled around, but he refused to leave her with a bastard growing in her belly. If they were to have a child, it would be a legitimate Lannister. But she had died defending Sansa and he had lost all hope.
Would it be the same? A niggling thought surfaced and he tried desperately to bury it. He had been clinging to his one hope for too long to have doubts now. He wasn't sure what he'd do if she rebuffed his advances forever. Could he love her the same as the Brienne of before?
It was a relief when the canoe bumped up onto the sandy shore. He hauled Renly to his feet and prodded him to get moving. "Where are the horses?"
"Ser Addam has them. He's in a clearing just through these trees," one of the crannogmen pointed.
Jaime sighed and steered Renly forward. His eyes scanned the area for some hint as to where Addam would be sitting. Sure enough the light gray of a horse whinnying reached his eyes and ears and he was able to guide Renly, though both of them stumbled through the underbrush without aid of light.
"Addam?" He called both for direction and to let him know he was there.
"Jaime! Good to see you alive. Got what you were looking for?" Addam asked from atop his horse, holding a torch aloft, his eyes falling upon the downcast Renly.
"That I have. Pod, what are you doing here?"
The boy was just behind Addam, holding a torch as well, still looking uncomfortable on his brown palfrey, but he replied, "Ser Addam said you required your horse. The squire is in charge of it."
"If I recall correctly, I gave you the night off," he replied wryly but he couldn't keep the smile off his face.
"Even so, m'lord. It didn't seem right not to attend to you when you needed me most."
"You're a good man, Pod," he said.
Addam and Pod had no less than four horses with them. "Agro," Jaime called out and his horse broke from the herd to amble over to him. She was a purchase from Willas. Despite being female, she was enormous for her size, but Willas insisted she was the best trained horse he had. She had yet to disappoint. Her coat was dark as soot save for a white diamond on her forehead. She nudged his shoulder and he patted her on the nose, then he hauled Renly over and threw him over the front of the saddle before climbing up with him. It took a bit to get situation so that he could ride comfortably but then he was gone. His uncle and the Shepherds stayed behind to help the crannogmen with portage of their canoes; Renly was of the utmost importance.
"Addam, stay here and make sure the Shepherd's and crannogmen get back to camp with little trouble. Pod, follow me."
They weren't riding for more than a few minutes when the trees opened up and they found themselves on the edge of the encampment. In the dead of night, the only ones awake were the guards on patrol. They were followed with interest. Jaime nudged his horse into a trot, holding the reins in one hand and keeping Renly in place with the other.
Aemon was standing outside his tent next to David, both looking anxious.
"You're back! That was quick. When we heard the bells, we feared the worst."
"Hah. We were halfway across the river by the time they sounded. Nothing to worry about," Jaime said with a cheeky grin.
"My team?" David asked.
"Down at the river helping the crannogmen carry their canoes. They're in one piece," Jaime replied. As confident as he'd been, he was concerned about either losing or injuring one of the Shepherds. David had offered to to assist him with his seizures, but he had a feeling that offer would be rescinded if tragedy struck any of his people. "Your man Cyrus should have been back by now."
"He's probably with his children then," David replied and hurried off.
Jaime slid off his horse and pulled Renly down none too gracefully and he fell face down into the dirt. "Get up," Jaime snarled, prodding him with the toe of his boot to the ribs.
"What is that smell?" Aemon said, wrinkling his nose. "The smell of shit get stronger?"
"I had to trudge through it to get him out."
"This was your idea," Aemon replied.
"Yes and it will be all worth it. Into the tent!"
Ser Preston and Ser Arys were guarding Aemon for the evening and they stood on either side of the tent flaps. One held it open as Jaime shoved Renly inside and into a chair.
"Fancy meeting you again, Renly Baratheon," Aemon said, stepping closer and draw himself up. "It must be different, meeting on a new level. I bet you thought you were on top of the world up on the wall, staring down, thinking I looked puny and insignificant on my horse. My how the times change."
Renly whimpered. His eyes were watery with unshed tears and he trembled uncontrollably in the chair. His trousers darkened as the tent filled with a strong scent of urine.
"Like elder brother, like youngest brother," Jaime commented, his lip curling in disgust.
"Oh, Renly, you don't get to feel fear. You brought this on yourself," Aemon said harshly. "I gave you every chance to turn over the throne to me, allowing you to keep your title as Lord of Storm's End, and not only did you throw it in my face, you took the extra effort to insult me. You had your chance. Now your fate is in my hands." With that he undid the gag and pulled it out of his mouth.
"P-please, please. Don't burn me. I beg of you. Mercy."
"Honestly, Aemon, he deserves to have his head removed. You have the gall to beg for mercy after being so malicious?" Jaime snapped.
"I was only-only trying to protect the people."
"Yes, protect the people by locking them up in the city and depriving them of food, wares, and peace."
"There were ships," Renly muttered.
"That's not enough to keep a city of half a million alive. How many had to suffer for your pride?" Aemon growled.
"Please. I'll do anything! Just-just don't kill me."
"You know very well what I need from you."
"The th-throne. It's yours. I'll surrender, just please spare me, my king."
Aemon sneered. "Yes, I am your king, but not for much longer. You are to be banished to the Wall."
That was apparently an even more terrifying prospect, for Renly's eyes widened and he sobbed, but he made no protests.
"Come now, Renly. You will spend the rest of your life in service to the Watch. Protecting the Wall is a most grave and important responsibility," Aemon said.
For however long that is, Jaime thought. He almost pitied the poor bastard, knowing what he was going to face. But they needed more men up there.
"Let's not wait any longer."
"Actually, Aemon, I need a wash," Jaime said.
Aemon gave him an annoyed look, but almost immediately broke up into laughter. "Fine. My Hand needs to make himself pretty. I suppose I can wait."
"Just because the city smells like shit doesn't mean I have to!"
"I said fine. Be back by dawn, I want to be in the Red Keep by the time the sun is up."
Author's Note: I tried to extensively research some of the passageways under King's Landing, most notably the one Arya discovers when she hides in the dragon room and follows a pair of men out of the Keep and the passage Tyrion takes to make his escape. Only Tyrion's is particularly well-described and it doesn't even tell us where it comes out, so creative liberties have been taken.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! With that, I'm sorry to say that I will be switching to a bi-weekly schedule for chapter posting. I'm running out of chapters again and I want to spend at least some of my free time doing things that aren't writing, but I really wanted you, the audience, to get to this point before I dialed it back again. Next chapter will be posted up 9/15/18
