Chapter 8

He dreamt of a woman that night. A beautiful woman with hair that shone like the sun and two emeralds for eyes. She wore a simple dress that was as white as snow, which fluttered in the wind like clouds on a warm summer's day as she danced and laughed in a field of gold and red flowers around a great oak tree. The woman looked like Cersei.

I know her, Link realised. Father had a painting of her in his solar, above the hearth. "Mother" Link whispered hoarsely, his heart aching with longing.

His legs brought him towards her, acting on their own accord. She stopped dancing and turned away from him, day went to night in a second and the flowers wilted before his eyes. The tree died, its once bright green leaves gone, leaving a lone crow on its dead branches to peer at him with three beady eyes.

When he finally reached her, her white dress was no longer so pristine. It was stained with a deep crimson, blood he realised with a start, and when she turned around to face him, she was crying tears of blood.

Where before, her eyes had danced with merriment and shone with life, now that light was snuffed out, devoid of life. Her once lustrous golden hair was now matted with sweat.

"You did this to me" Joanna Lannister said, condemning him, "You killed me"

"No," Link said in a strangled whisper, "Please mother.-"

"You are no son of mine." Joanna said coldly.

Link flinched back, like he had been struck, and in that moment it was like his father was standing there instead.

The nightmare haunted Link long after he awoke. It cast doubt on everything he had thought he knew about his mother. His favourite uncle Gerion always used to say how much his mother would have loved him, and for something, even if only a dream, to disregard that, hurt him deeper than any of Cersei's cruel barbs ever could.

Where are you uncle? Link thought as he looked into the night sky, remembering the nights where Gerion would tell him of ancient heroes who could control the stars, wondering if Gerion was looking at the sky in Valyria and thinking of him.

It had been six moons since his father and Tyrion had left King's Landing for the Rock, seven since his uncle had left on the Laughing Lion to Valyria. Life in King's Landing was hard, being the King's cupbearer he had to follow him everywhere to serve him his wine, and he drank a lot of wine. King Robert was similar to Lord Lydden in the way he whored and drank constantly, but was not nearly as fat as Lord Lydden and Robert had one thing that Lord Lydden would never have. A warrior's spirit, tales of the Demon of the Trident reached far and wide. Robert's actions hurt his sister, Link knew and for that he pitied her.

Before his father had left, he told him that he would formally become the King's squire on his one and tenth nameday, which was only a moon away. He would have his lessons with Grand Maester Pycelle in the mornings and then train with the master of arms, Ser Aron Santagar, in the afternoons. Ser Aron was a vain but honest man, who liked to set Link against 2 squires at once after he saw his ability with the blade. Link took to everything the master at arms set him to like a fish to water, whether it was jousting against other opponents with a lance, archery and of course each sword Link was presented with, he mastered it all. He liked to think of it as a remnant of his past life, where Zelda and Ganondorf had been able to master old magicks and unfathomable powers with their triforce pieces, he had been able to use any weapon he was presented with as if he had been a seasoned veteran, wielding it for decades.

The only weapons Link took difficulty in was a warhammer and a spear, he could barely even lift a warhammer off of the ground (a great feat for one as young as him, if Ser Aron is to be believed) and he never encountered a spear in his past life to use as a weapon. Where he excelled at combat, he struggled with his lessons with Pycelle. He was learning the different houses of Westeros and when on its own is not impossible, Pycelle's droning voice made it incredibly boring. When he turned one and ten they would be moving on to the Blackfyre rebellions which would be something to look forward to Link supposed.

His father had commanded him to take a sworn shield whilst in the capitol, to ensure the future of house Lannister he had said. He chose Lann from Lannisport, the captain of the guards he had befriended, he much preferred Lann than Joffrey's new sworn shield, Sandor Clegane. The Hound, as he was called, was one of the tallest men Link had ever seen, taller even than the King himself. One side of the man's face is a ruin of scars, black flesh with scars that ooze red and his ear only a hole. He reportedly got these gruesome burns as a child, when his bedding caught fire, but some say his older brother, the Mountain, was involved. Sandor was a deeply cynical and short tempered man, who hated anything and everything to do with knighthood. The man was dutiful, following every order without fault. Possibly too dutiful. He stands by and says nothing about Joffrey's antics, just like everyone else. Link thought bitterly.

Joffrey, whilst horribly cruel, was still only a small boy of six, so had some form of an excuse. His sister Cersei on the other hand was a grown woman and had no excuse for the cruelty she displayed to servants and towards him. She took any chance she could get to insult or belittle him.

That afternoon Link was training with his brother Jaime. As a Kingsguard, Jaime was usually very busy with guarding the royal family, but had a free shift for the afternoon so had decided to spend it with him.

Jaime had decided he wanted to see how good he really was with the blade, wanting to see if Ser Aron Santagar's boasts held any merit. Link, affronted that Jaime was so quick to dismiss his martial prowess, immediately accepted Jaime's challenge.

They were circling each other with the other squires looking on. Jaime armed with a wooden longsword, peering at Link with his green cat-like eyes. Link was armed with an oak shield and a bastard sword, eyeing Jaime with caution.

Jaime made the first move, he swung his longsword down, meaning to hit Link in his padded head. Link brought his shield up and blocked the blow with a grunt. By Nayru Jaime's strong Link thought. Link quickly riposted, aiming for Jaime's open side, but he parried Link's attack and yet again brought his sword down, aiming for Link's torso this time.

He grit his teeth and felt his bones rattle after he blocked Jaime's strike. Link tried to feint left, but Jaime saw through it and struck out again. He cut and slashed at Link relentlessly, forcing Link on the defensive, with every strike he blocked or parried his arms grew heavier. He cursed his ten year old body, wishing for the strength of an adult as Jaime continued his assault.

In Jaime's arrogance and underestimation of Link, he had over extended, leaving his side open. Link twisted his body and swung his sword, aiming for Jaime's unprotected side, but Jaime pulled out of reach just in time with a grin on his face, quick as a cat. Link pressed forward, catching Jaime's longsword with his shield and slashing at Jaime with his sword.

In a flurry of motion, Jaime brought his sword forward and met Link's blade with his own. Link, knowing he would lose in a battle of strength, deflected Jaime's blade away from his own with a grunt, disengaging. Relying on instinct, Link shield bashed Jaime in the face and brought his blade up, swinging for his brother's throat, but even disorientated and surprised Jaime was able to slap Link's blade aside and thrust up into his open guard, his longsword resting against Link's throat.

A defeated sigh escaped as Link whispered "I yield"

Jaime laughed and said "Do not worry dear brother, you are only ten. You performed better against me than most grown men would."

Link only nodded in response. I need to be better, I will not fail again. He thought with determination. As the brothers sat down, wineskins of water in hand, Link's thoughts wandered to their mother and his nightmare.

"Would mother have hated me?" Link asked tentatively, eyeing Jaime from the corner of his eye.

Jaime smiled at Link, eyes shining with sympathy. "Our mother loved you, Link, never doubt that. Do not listen to Cersei and her barbs."

Link nodded and rose, doubt lingering in his mind. "I best go and attend the King brother, thank you for sparring with me."

Jaime laughed and said "Any time dear brother, now go attend our fat oaf of a King." Link frowned at his words but left with a wave anyway.

Long after the sun had gone down and after Lann was asleep, Link would explore the Red Keep to his heart's content. Discovering secret passageways that hadn't been used in decades.

One night Link had found himself finding a room that was long abandoned. Tapestries of dragons hung from the walls, depicting battles and clashes between dragons and armies of men. Aegon's conquest Link realised. The tapestries were finely made with jewels and garnets adorning them.

The biggest of the tapestries depicted the burning of Harrenhal, the deaths of Harren and his sons, the end of his line.

Tomes that looked to be hundreds of years old lined the floor, blanketed by dust and grime. Link crouched down and looked at the only book that seemed to be in a state fit to read. The Prophecies of House Targaryen the cover read. Link dropped the book as if he was burned, he had experienced enough failed prophecies in his last life.

In the centre of the room there was a stool, and on the stool a harp sat. The harp was fit for a child, with silver strings and crimson rubies adorning it. It reminded him of Sheik, of Zelda and how they would play music together. He took the harp and raced back to his chambers, all the while resolving to get lessons in the high harp as soon as he could, to honour Zelda.

This particular night, Link had decided to follow one particular deep passageway. He walked in the dark, dank passageway with only a small torch for what felt like hours until Link found himself in a large cavernous hall with dark piles of rubble beneath each of the walls. Not rubble, Dragon Skulls, Link realised as he walked further into the room. He looked to the largest skull in the room, Balerion the Black Dread. Link was in awe of it, its teeth as long as swords and jaw so wide it could swallow him whole.

This is the dragon that burned Harrenhall. One of three that conquered Westeros. Link thought in reverence. He was relieved that he only had to slay Volvagia in his old life and not a monster of this size. The dragons' eyeless skulls seemed to watch him as he walked among them, judging him.

Soon, he heard footsteps and the faint echo of mens' voices as they came closer to the dank cellar. Fearing that he would be caught and later berated by Cersei, Link fled through the secret passageway, leaving the skulls of the once great Targaryen dragons behind him.

He ran through the passageways, never looking back, until finally he saw some dim light at the end of the tunnel. Cool wind hit his face as he found himself looking out over the waters of Blackwater Bay. Link felt himself pale as he realised his grave mistake, in his haste to flee he had taken a wrong turn. Instead of finding himself in front of his rooms in Maegor's holdfast, he was outside of King's Landing entirely. How deep do those passages go? Link wondered. There was one thing that Link knew for certain. Cersei was going to kill him.

Thank you for reading! This chapter took a while due to me getting new WiFi and because the duel between Link and Jaime was really hard to write. Read and review!