Author's Notes: Thanks, everyone, for reading and reviewing! And thank you especially for your patience. I know two week waits are hard.
Guest & and anyone else interested: If you are interested in using ideas/characters from this fic, I have two conditions: 1. Please ask 2. If you publish it, please credit me. That's it. I'm pretty lenient, so the odds are pretty good I'll say yes. I mean, the only characters I own from this are the Shepherds
Chapter 36
Jaime XII
Jaime thought the Red Keep looked different with Aemon standing in the middle of it, dressed in his armor and simple crown, but maybe it had less to do with appearance and more to do with how the Red Keep felt. He had long loathed this place. Walking through it made his skin itch as if he were wearing clothing of poor quality, but it was simply a place he could not call home, at least not while it had been filled with Robert and his excesses. Because of Robert, ilk like Cersei, Baelish, Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Boros Blount were allowed to prosper and coat the Red Keep in their filth. Already he could feel a cleansing and he breathed deep the muggy air of King's Landing.
He dismounted his horse, same as Aemon and stepped up to flank him like a Kingsguard. Ser Barristan gave him an amused look as he flanked him on his other side. Old habits die hard, Jaime thought, glaring at Barristan a little bit.
Aemon stepped up to half a dozen lords who had already knelt down in front of him. At their kneeling, the rest of the soldiers in the keep had promptly dropped to their own knees. A quick glance around showed there wasn't a hostile face among them; they appeared relieved and resigned. Of the men in front of Aemon, Jaime recognized Lord Beric Dondarrion, Edric Dayne, Thoros of Myr, Lord Arstan Selmy and Ser Balon Swann. Judging by the green turtle sigil on the last lord's armor, he could only assume he was a family member of House Estermont.
"Rise," Aemon said simply. His voice was teal in his excitement.
"Your grace," Beric said in a voice of dark blue, clearly calm about the invasion. "I am Lord Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven. I pledge my house to you. This is my squire, Edric Dayne."
Aemon nodded and looked to the other lords who had risen along with him. Lord Arstan glanced over at Ser Barristan, looking nervous. Ser Barristan still had the rope holding Renly.
"Where are the other Storm lords?" Aemon asked, peering around the Keep.
"Still sleeping off their hangovers, I imagine," Beric replied, grimacing. "The lords that are here and myself were planning on throwing Renly to you on the morn."
"Oh?" Aemon asked, eyes wide.
"His foolhardiness was going to cost lives! We have been counseling him this whole time to surrender, but he wouldn't listen. The folk in King's Landing and our soldiers were going to be thrown into a needless battle. We were just getting ready to capture Renly, when the first soldiers' bodies were discovered…"
"Well, I wonder what dashing warrior managed that," Jaime piped up and couldn't keep the smug smile from his face. His own voice floated in front of him as bright as spring grass.
Beric's eyebrows shot up. "It was you, Ser Jaime?!"
Aemon rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, you did well, Jaime."
"Did well? I brought you Renly without so much as a hair out of place and took the Keep bloodlessly. It was flawless."
"You shoved Renly off your horse when you brought him to me."
"It was still done flawlessly."
Aemon drew his mouth into a line that was to suggest admonishment, but he seemed to be fighting a smile. Beric and Lord Arstan appeared disgruntled to have been outdone by the 'Kingslayer.' His smile did falter as he thought about the soldiers and Brienne lying in the hallway. "Those soldiers did live, didn't they?"
"Yes, they lived," Beric replied.
"And the lady warrior?"
"The lady warrior?" Beric asked with a frown. "You mean Lady Brienne of Tarth?"
"Are there any other lady warriors here?" Jaime said with an edge to his voice.
"I hadn't realized you knocked her out too. I haven't seen her since yesterday."
Jaime sucked in a breath and tried to control his fear. I left her in the middle of a hallway. Did some soldiers find her and have their way with her while she was unconscious? He would never forgive himself if harm befell her because she was unconscious.
Just as he put a hand on Brightroar, he saw his wench step out of a hallway into the light. She appeared groggy as if she had only just woken, but her armor was in place and when she found stability she glanced around at the inner yard and stared at all of the soldiers. When her gaze fell on him, she scowled but stayed close to the entrance. No doubt she understood the fruitless effort it would be to go back inside.
Despite her clear anger, he relaxed. He had no doubt she would hate his guts right out of the gate, but he had managed to overcome her ire before. All I need is a chance, he thought.
"Is that her right there?" Aemon asked, looking through the lords, who all turned.
"Aye, that's her, your grace," Beric said.
"She looks formidable," Aemon said, casting a sly look at Jaime.
"She is. She outfought Ser Loras Tyrell in the yard a few days prior."
Aemon's eyebrows shot up but he seemed unable to control his amusement. "Impressive!"
"Speaking of Loras," Jaime began, desperate to change the subject, "where is he?"
"He's right where you left him?" Beric replied, a snarl twisting his face.
Jaime quirked an eyebrow at him. Still tied up too? The fact that he was missing from the outer yard suggested that was the case. "By your leave, your grace, I'll go get Ser Loras."
Aemon nodded absentmindedly at him, having already turned to address his soldiers. Jaime was almost at the bottom of the Tower of the Hand, when an indignant voice shouted, "You!"
He turned to see Ser Balon Swann pointing at Cyrus, who was still atop his horse. Jaime did a double take on Cyrus when he realized his goatee was already gone. He had an entirely too innocent expression on his face. "Me?" He said in mock outrage.
"I should have known you were an infiltrator," Balon grumbled.
"Well, you didn't," Cyrus replied. Most of the rest of the Shepherds were there looking tired, but amused. David dismounted and approached Aemon, but Jaime was already too far away to hear the conversation between them.
He hurried up the stairs to the room of the Hand on his own. He opened the door and strode through. Loras was indeed as he had left him, naked under the sheets, but he was now awake and glaring.
"The Red Keep has fallen. Your lover is in our hands. You want things to go pleasantly for him? You'll behave," Jaime growled. The first thing he grabbed was Loras' sword and placed it by the door. Grabbing the knife at his belt, he sliced through the ropes on Loras' hands and then the ones at his feet. "Put some clothes on. Your family awaits you," Jaime ordered, stepping back to stand by the door
Loras glowered at him from the bed, but slowly began pulling on his clothes. When he was done, Jaime picked up Loras' sword once more, holding it firmly in hand as he walked over. Loras' eyes followed his sword but made no move to nab it. Jaime put a knife to his back. "Now walk."
They took the stairs at a sedentary pace and Jaime had to wonder if he was dreading seeing his family. Since he had been found in the Hand's room, the rumors would spread swiftly about his and Renly's proclivities. Followers of the Seven didn't take kindly to men who lie with other men; the Tyrells as a whole would in all likelihood suffer for this. Maybe this will keep the Tyrells in line with the marriages already arranged for them, Jaime thought. He could only hope, but in the meantime, he'd watch them closely.
Back on the grounds, he noticed groups of soldiers were bringing wavering and stumbling lords out to a wooden table that had been set up. David was sitting on one half, taking notes. Winterfell soldiers were stripping lords of their weapons and the merchant that traveled with the Shepherds was taking inventory of said weapons. Podrick Payne and Olyvar Frey stood quivering with excitement at David's elbow, likely ready to relay messages across the castle. Aemon was watching the proceedings quietly and from a distance. Colors of sound flew here and there, darting across his vision like birds.
Jaime carefully walked Loras over to Aemon. His king glanced at them, evaluating Loras for a moment and then seemed to dismiss him out of hand.
"What's going on?" Jaime whispered.
"There's too much to do to accept pledges of fealty today. I will hold my crowning ceremony tomorrow and then I will accept the pledges. Until then, their weapons are to be stored apart from them."
"I see," Jaime said. "You know, you could probably wait a week for your crowning ceremony and make a proper celebration."
Aemon looked at him as if he didn't know him. "We don't have time for that. Or the money. We have work to do."
"And that's what sets you apart from Robert Baratheon."
"I hope there's more than that that separates us," Aemon replied. "Speaking of, I intend to have him moved to a cell in the dungeons before the sun sets."
"Good. Best to get all loose ends squared away," Jaime replied.
"Loras!"
"Speaking of loose ends…" Jaime muttered. He sheathed the knife he was using to hold Loras in place. The man had obediently stood there, looking around at the happenings. There was no mistaking the disgusted expressions on the Stormland soldiers. Lord Arstan, Ser Balon, and Beric shot glares at him in equal measure. "Here." Jaime held Loras' sword out to him.
Loras looked at it as though it were a venomous snake preparing to bite him. "I'm allowed my weapon?"
"Your family has already pledged their support to me. Don't make them regret asking for immunity for you," Aemon said, his voice had an unmistakable sharpness to it.
Loras clenched his jaw and then asked in a bitter orange voice, "What is to happen to Renly, your grace?"
Aemon stared at him with an air of superiority. "You will find out with the rest of the kingdoms tomorrow."
"It was suggested to me by...Lord Jaime that my good behavior would benefit Renly."
"Your good behavior only affects your standing with me. I suggest you not disappoint your family," Aemon replied. With that, Jaime nudged him to get him moving.
As soon as they were out of earshot of the king, Loras glared at Jaime. "You lied to me."
"It made things easy though, didn't it?" Jaime said. "Come on. Your family awaits."
Loras walked over, still glowering like a sulking child, and Jaime followed. Willas had apparently seen the open gates of King's Landing and immediately arranged for transport up to the Red Keep. Both he and his father were now climbing out of the carriage. Willas was stumping over to them as hastily as his game leg would allow, his young face full of anguish.
"Brother, it is good to see you!" Willas did not bother with propriety as he threw himself at his brother in a hug.
"It is done," Jaime said as soon as Willas released Loras from the hug. "I have fulfilled my bargain. Your brother has been delivered to you unharmed, by me personally, as I promised."
"Thank you, Lord Jaime. You have indeed kept your promise. House Tyrell will not forget this favor you have done."
"Son!" Mace Tyrell restrained himself from hugging Loras and merely clapped a hand on his shoulder.
Aemon smirked at him as he sauntered back. "You look like the cat who got the cream."
"I took the Red Keep bloodlessly and fulfilled a promise I made to the Tyrells," Jaime replied, raising his head up to stare imperiously down at Aemon.
He only chuckled and whispered, "You may impress others with that line, but I don't think you'll impress Brienne."
Probably not, Jaime thought with a troubled frown. Brienne would be pleased about that, but only grudgingly so at first. Her beloved Renly was at least alive and that was the best she could hope for.
"Ghost," Aemon called out.
Jaime shook himself of his thoughts to find that Robb Stark had appeared with the direwolves in tow. Both Ghost and Greywind barreled toward them with their tongues streaming behind them. When reared up on their hind legs, they were now taller than Aemon and he had to push Ghost away so that he wouldn't throw him to the ground.
"Easy, boy. Calm down, calm down. You too, Greywind. I'm glad to see you too." Ghost and Greywind both sat at attention to his commands, still panting. The Stormlands soldiers all froze upon seeing the gigantic beasts.
Robb strode over with a proud smile on his face. Greywind broke away to fall in step with Robb. He gave his cousin a short bow and said, "Your grace, I wish to congratulate you on your victory."
"Why thank you, cousin. I couldn't have done it without Jaime though," Aemon said with a grin.
Jaime smirked, "With pleasure, your grace."
"Yes, Lord Jaime, my father told me what you had done. Most impressive. I have to admit, though, I was looking forward to fighting in my first battle."
Aemon's smile faltered, but only minimally. "Don't you fret, Robb. There are more battles ahead of us. Real ones."
Jaime's good mood deflated and he struggled to keep the smile on his face. The Long Night loomed. Maybe the rest of the North felt it was far off, but to Jaime it felt more like a great beast stalking them, taking slow, predatory steps ever closer. Even now he still expected to feel the first chill breezes of the approaching Fall at any moment. He knew that it was still years out, but the days were slipping away like grains of sand through his hand. We still have enough time. We're already leagues ahead of where we were in the time before, he thought. If he remembered correctly, old Ned Stark would've been Hand of the King for about two months now. It was around this time Tyrion would have been kidnapped and Jaime would have ridden off to his rescue.
"Jaime, what comes next?" Aemon asked, mirroring the troubled expression that he now had.
"Umm...I'm not the right person to ask that question," Jaime replied.
"I need Dany. I need to go to Dorne to negotiate them into the fold. We need Dragonstone so we can start mining for Dragonglass. We need a fleet. We need to go to the Iron Islands and make sure they're in line. We need to begin food storage. We need- "
"You're already giving me a headache," Jaime muttered, wincing. "I am not good at administrative things. I am a knight, a soldier, a commander. You might want to pick a new Hand."
"Oh no, you're stuck sharing the burden of ruling with me for now," Aemon said.
"As your grace commands," Jaime sighed. "Just...take each day one step at a time. Figure out what you need to do today and then that will free up tomorrow to start."
Aemon groaned. "I don't want to make a list. We both know what the Red Keep's like."
"What if you did it in that cipher trick I mentioned?"
He frowned at Jaime. "You still need to teach me that."
"Maybe this evening when we're done here."
Aemon opened his mouth to answer when a shout cut across the yard, attracting every man's attention: "DAVID?!"
The healer became rigid as a tree and he turned his head with a creaking slowness that suggested apprehension. Then he fixed a smile on on his face that held all the life of a wight. "Lord Jason Mallister? Imagine that." Jaime couldn't quite decipher the color of David's voice. It was a horrid dark green color, mixed with the malice of red, like nothing he'd ever seen before.
Lord Mallister, a towering man with silver hair and beard, strode across the grounds to the table. Jaime was certain he saw the healer recoil in that same rigid way, like an oak tree bending with the wind.
"I never thought I'd see you again. How've ya been?"
"Fine," David said with his wooden smile. "When did you take over from your lord father?"
"Yes, my lord father Duncan passed near twenty years ago. I'm married now and have a son, Patrek. What about you? How did you get here?" Lord Mallister looked around among the soldiers and lords, as though expecting someone to claim him.
"I am the Lord Hand Jaime Lannister's designated healer," David said, his eyes darting to Jaime.
Jaime frowned but said nothing.
"Your designated healer, huh?" Aemon asked with a knowing look.
"Close enough," Jaime said. The Shepherds were all but officially under his protection.
Jason Mallister turned to him and nodded in appraisal, clearly impressed. "You've done well for yourself. I'm glad."
"Uh huh. Is there news of my parents?"
"Your father past the same year mine did. Your mother was assistant to the new Maester and the town midwife until she passed ten years ago. I know she always wondered what happened to you."
"Shame. It would have been nice to see her one last time," David said and he actually did look regretful, but there was no mistaking the apprehension in his face. "Forgive me, my Lord, but King Aemon has me working right now. I must get this done before the evening meal."
"Of course. Sorry to bother, but I had always wondered what had happened to you."
"Alive and well," David replied, the dead smile back on his face and if Jaime wasn't mistaken Lord Mallister looked nervous. Once the lord walked away, the smile fell and David glared after him.
"I had forgotten he told me he was born and raised at Seagard," Jaime muttered. He watched Lord Mallister until he disappeared into the crowd.
They watched for a moment as orders were carried out, then Aemon nudged Jaime and said, "Everything seems to be running smoothly. I need to speak with you. About that thing I mentioned in the tent the other day."
Jaime internally winced. He did not want to receive this news if Aemon's face was anything to go by. He heaved a sigh. "Very well. Let's find somewhere private."
"Where's the godswood?"
"Over here." Jaime led the way through a door. Once it had closed behind them, silence fell on them and he breathed in relief. The activity and all the colors were beginning to muddle with his senses. If he didn't want a headache, he would've had to excuse himself. But then what kind of Hand am I that I can't stand next to my King on the day of our victory?
As soon as they stepped into the woods, Ghost charged out into the greenery, disappearing among the trees.
"I'm glad they didn't burn the rest of this forest down when they uprooted all the weirwood trees. It'll be nice to come here and get away," Aemon said.
They just came in sight of the makeshift heart tree, when Jaime came to such a sudden stop that Aemon almost ran into him. He stared.
The rope he had used to hang himself on the heart tree was still dangling from the branch. The wood had partially grown over it, encasing it to forever be a part of tree. "I forgot I had left this," Jaime whispered.
They cautiously approached. The rope was almost entirely black and frayed apart. When nudged by the breeze it swayed rigidly, with none of the usual flexibility. Aemon stepped up to look at the rope and for a moment reached toward it, but in the last instance pulled his hand and shrank back. "I'm sorry, Jaime," he whispered.
Jaime gave him a wry look. "There's nothing you could've done."
"I...I know, but someone should have been there for you."
"You didn't fail me. I failed myself."
"Jaime, I couldn't have blamed you for your decision. My six months alone was enough to make me doubt my own mind. You lived near fifteen years with that doubt. You're far stronger than I could ever be," he said.
"What's done is done. That's behind us now."
"I feel like I'm only going to add to your woes."
"How much worse could it get?"
Aemon glared at him. "And then it gets worse. When I reached Riverrun, I received news that Cersei...had made it to Bear Island."
Jaime couldn't keep from smirking. "Throwing her to the Mormont women, I see. Very good."
"But that wasn't all that was in the letter. The Maester of Bear Island conducted an examination of Cersei upon her arrival. She was pregnant."
He actually fell back into the heart tree. He gaped at Aemon, his mind reeling and his mouth suddenly dry. He shook his head. "No. Say isn't true."
"It's true," Aemon said. "I also received news from the Tyrells that you were missing. I...I thought you might be dead."
He grinded his teeth and growled. "The Ironborn."
"So...I consulted with my uncle about this. The child will be raised at Winterfell. If you have any objection to that, then we need to make new arrangements."
"Can I...trust her?"
Aemon drew his mouth into a thin line. "I made it clear in my letter that Lady Catelyn is to treat the child with the respect that is due House Lannister. She wouldn't dare ignore this order. Feel free to write her and tell her your thoughts. She knows that I will support you in almost anything you say short of demanding her head. I trust you to be at least somewhat measured in your response."
Jaime nodded numbly, still slumped against the tree. Then he looked up and asked, "What of Cersei?"
"Cersei is to never see the child. She will not know its gender. She will not name it. She will spend the rest of her days on Bear Island, never to be seen or heard from again by the mainland."
"I'd still say it's too good for her."
"I'm sorry." Aemon stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "If you need anything, you need only ask. I suggest you get some rest before this evening."
He nodded again and Aemon left. He had been looking forward to his bed that night, sleeping on the high of victory, but even thousands of miles away Cersei still plagued him. Eventually he left the godswood. He wasn't quite sure of his destination until he stepped out and set eyes on the White Tower. His room was still there.
"Brother, you're victorious! I heard what you did. Quite clever of you! Come, we should celebrate your victory," Tyrion crowed, beaming up at him. His smile faltered slightly at the exhausted look on his brother's face, but he persisted.
"Not now, Tyrion. I...I can't."
"Come now, what's the matter? Whatever it is, I'm sure it can be solved with some drinking."
Jaime huffed. "No, not today."
Tyrion scowled. "Then when?! You've been keeping me at arm's length and I want to know why."
"I've been busy."
"Not so busy for a conversation! I feel like the king knows you better than I do."
I imagine he does, Jaime thought, but merely shook his head.
"Tyrion!" They both turned to see Aemon glaring. "Leave your brother be."
Grudgingly, he stepped out of his way and Jaime continued on to the tower. He could feel Tyrion's eyes burning into him as he ascended the White Tower.
