A/N: EDIT: not a lot of feedback, despite the massive chapter, that's a bit of a spirit breaker. T_T
I suppose the site is glitching again...
Still, here we are! One of my longest chapters to date! Looking forward to your feedback! Every bit helps!
...sorry for the delay , I think something is wrong with me. I don't feel like myself.
Not sure if its my depression or what, but I feel...off. My mood is high, then low, then high again. Its affecting...well, everything, to say nothing of my energy levels. Sometimes its an effort to just get out of bed, get dressed, and drag my self to work. I can feel it eating away at me, sapping my motivation bit by bit. Thanks to Slifer and Advent, I'm fighting on, but its still strange.
Trying my best to endure, here.
Update schedule got a bit messed up last week, I didn't get a chance to update "Lion" properly last Thursday or "Foxfire" on Sunday given both are shaping up to be loooong chapters, but here we are last, slightly delayed though it was.
Long have I waited to write this chapter. There's so much ground to cover! I wanted this to feel like a proper Game of Thrones episode! Hopefully I succeeded~!
Alright, I've kept you waiting long enough, methinks. Enough of this old man's rambling; you're here for a story. Hope you're prepared for the chaos to come. Once more, I own no references, quotes, memes or themes. Not a wit or a one. Nope. They're simply tributes to legends far greater than I.
Lastly, a reminder to one and all. Naruto's Westerosi name remains Nathaniel.
Joanna prefers to call him Naruto, yet she's the only one who truly does.
Timeline is still a little skewed here, but hey, that makes things...fun.
References and verbatim from Game of Thrones below.
And a Castlevania moment. You all know the one.
SPOILER really ran away with this chapter~!
"The mad dragon falters and lion smiles.
The mad dragon loses its wings, and the lion laughs.
The mad dragon crashed down to earth and the lion feasts upon his flesh.
Thus did the mad dragon pass not with a roar, but a whimper, as the lion stole his mate.
And so he roared and so he roared, that mad dragon once feared...
...but now they curse the mad king's name...
...with not a soul to hear.
~An excerpt.
The Laughing Lion
Tyrion crept into the Stone Garden.
The night was dark and full of terrors -for him at least, he was just a child after all- as he snuck down to the steps to the Godswood below.
Granted, most of his fear was due to Father's fearsome guards. Tywin Lannister had selected no less than four of them; two would man the entrance, and two more would watch the exit. They were big, burly fellows, and they did their work well-the quartet always stared silently at him whenever he came and went, never once faltering in their silent vigil.
He supposed that was all they could do these days, given the loss of their tongues.
The Dragonguard, Nathaniel called them, in his more affable moments.
Father wasn't taking any chances here. He paid his debts.
Each of these men had offered up their voice willingly in service to Father quite some time ago; sacrificing the gift of speech in return for copious coin; money that went to support their families, mothers and sons and daughters all. These silent soldiers would never leave the Rock, but their kin would be well cared for in Lannisport until the end of their days. They watched him now in unnerving silence, steadfast in their duty. Their constant gaze made Tyrion wince a little as he delved into the dark.
Frightening, wasn't it? What someone would give up to protect their family. A man could do no less.
His family knew sacrifice. Father and Mother forfeited their time with one another to hold the Westerlands together; protecting their vassals against an increasingly mad king. Jaime, volunteering to be a Kingsguard to keep said king at bay. Nathaniel, shipped off to Winterfell for the better part of a decade, only recently returned with the Lady of the castle herself, who might one day become his bride. Cersei dutifully entertaining the heir to Storm's End, knowing she might well be wed to him and shipped away for the rest of her days.
Even his aunts and uncles were not immune to the weight of duty...
.
..
...all save uncle Gerrion, who'd sailed to Old Valyria in search of Brightroar, the family's Valyrian steel sword.
He never returned.
Nathaniel talked of going after him sometimes in search of that blade and other treasures besides, but Father forbade it. For once, Tyrion agreed with Father. He'd liked uncle Gerrion. They'd already lost one Lannister, they couldn't afford to lose another. And besides, none who sailed there ever returned. Who knew what manner of monsters dwelt there?
Tyrion was still a child, and the third son at that. There was little he could do to help his Family. So he devoted himself to the Dragon.
Step by step, he descended into the Godswood, braving the dark with his trusty torch. The Stone Garden itself was normally lit with many such torches at night, replaced every few hours by the guards, those staring silent soldiers whom father could trust, but not this late, thus why he'd brought one of his own.
But torch or no, Father wouldn't be happy to know he was creeping about in the dark like a common thief.
Then again, Father didn't like him very much, did he?
He never had.
Tyrion knew why of course; Mother and Cersei had done their level best to hide it from him, but it was merely a matter of asking the Maester and listening to the occasional bit of gossip about the Rock. He'd been horrified to learn the dire circumstances of his birth, and what it nearly cost the Family.
He'd nearly killed Mother to come into this world. If not for Nathaniel's timely intervention, Joanna Lannister would be dead. Father would never forgive him for that.
Tyrion didn't blame him. He wouldn't have forgiven himself either.
Yes, understood his reasoning. He didn't like it, but he understood. The knowledge had pained him at first, but time dulled all aches. He buried in books and knowledge and clever quips, doing his best to learn about the world at large and master it; if only to mask the pain of his own existence for the sake of avoiding Father's scalding glare.
That said, Father had been...different since Nathaniel's return. Not nice, not kind, but different. Ordinarily, he couldn't bear to be in the same room as him, yet as of late he would linger. Most of the time he was grim and terribly imposing, yet at others he proved stiff awkward, as though he didn't know what to say to him.
Tyrion wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing.
He also wasn't quite sure he was a dwarf. Not anymore. Dwarves weren't supposed to grow all that big, yet grow he had, to Mother's great delight. It was slow, but he'd begun to notice over the years. Maybe he wouldn't be quite so short after all. Perhaps he would brow strong and tall, like Jaime and Nathaniel. He hoped so. But right now his thoughts weren't with them.
They were with the Dragon.
He could hear him down their singing in the deep.
Have you ever heard a baby dragon sing? Its a wonderful thing.
Kurama, as Naruto had named him, dwelt in the depths of the Stone Garden, hidden away from the world as he grew. Tyrion liked to visit him often, at least once a week, to mark his growth. Nathaniel was down here just about every bloody day but he couldn't be everywhere at all once.
So he did his best to help, in the small ways he could.
Scampering down the steps, he squinted into the gloom aided by the light of his torch. "Where are you...?"
He heard a skitter in the darkness, punctuated by a chirrup.
Rounding on it, he smiled. "There you are."
A red blur burst out of the shadows and alighted on a rocky pedestal just before him. Gods, but he was getting big. Already the size of a cat and with an appetite to match!
Sure enough, those bright, beady crimson eyes flicked to the pouch at his side, and the meat therein.
Tyrion whistled softly and went to work. "You really are a marvel, aren't you?"
A questioning trill answered.
"Here," he delved a hand into his satchel. "I brought you something. A nice juicy mutton chop. Fresh from the kitchens. I snatched it when the cook wasn't looking."
Kurama needn't be told twice; he ripped the morsel from his fingers and started ripping into it with reckless abandon.
"My uncle Kevan once asked me what gift I wanted for my Nameday." He ran a hand over the little beast's scales as it feasts, smiling now when the crimson creature continued to consume its meal. "I begged him for one of you. Wouldn't even have to be a big dragon, I told him. It could he little. Like me." the dragon looked up momentarily at that, watching him intently as he prattled on, stroking its neck. "Everyone laughed like it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard. And my father told me that the last dragon had died since ago. I cried myself to sleep that night...yet here you are."
The baby dragon chirped once, as though to say: "Yes, I am."
Clever little beast.
"I wonder if there are others out there like you," he mused aloud. "Dragons, frozen in stone, just waiting to be born...
Eight of the dragon's nine tails twitched.
Tyrion noticed.
That really was a curious thing. He supposed they functioned as prehensile appendages; he'd seen Kurama use them as leverage to latch onto limbs and perches before, but he sensed there was something more significant at play here. What, exactly, he knew not, but there was certainly something to be said about a dragon having nine tails.
Sometimes he dreamed he was a dragon himself. At other times, that he'd become a giant.
He supposed they were better than Lyanna's wolf-dreams.
"I'd very much like to ride a dragon someday." laying his torch down, he considered his brother's dragon anew. "I don't suppose you'll let me on your back when you grow bigger?"
The dragon watched him intently. Was it his imagination or did the little bugger nod just now? No, surely not. Dragons were intelligent creatures, but they weren't THAT intelligent surely...
.
..
...or were they?
Setting one fist to his chin, he considered the wonder before him. "Can you breathe fire yet, I wonder?"
Kurama regarded him archly, horned head tilting in mild consternation. Remarkable that it could convey so much with a single glance.
Tyrion knew the word he wanted to say; gods knew Lady Lyanna -she would be Big Sister Lyanna soon, he supposed- used it plenty of times to evoke a reaction from the dragon. He'd longed to speak them himself, when it was just the two of them. On a whim, he tried to pronounce the word in question.
Instead, he mangled it horribly. "Dracarys!"
The hatchling reared back and made an offended noise.
Tyrion blew out a sigh, disappointed beyond measure. "Yes, yes, of course. You'll breathe fire when you're good and ready-
Without warning, Kurama inhaled deeply, whirled and spat at the ruined remnants of his meal, bathing the cavern in a ruddy red glow.
His flames were...strange.
All red and gold fire, they devoured the mutton chop, roasting it from without and within. In a matter of moment the meat was well done; to which the baby dragon dove in with relish. Come the end, Tyrion was left to watch, hear still beating rapidly from that near encounter. And yet, for all his fear, he'd noticed something.
Kurama's fire was the very colors of house Lannister itself.
And with that, Tyrion began to laugh.
This felt like destiny.
(.0.0.0.)
"Are we sure this is a wise course of action?"
Tywin polished off the last of his letter and looked up from his writing desk.
He wasn't surprised to find Joanna waiting for him there, standing by the hearth.
Framed in the flickering firelight with her back to him, he nevertheless glimpsed the side of her face just so; those bright green eyes almost seem to glow with concern, match her golden gown. And still she gazed into the flames, as though trying to divine the secrets of the universe therein.
Such a strange thing, fire. He could understand why the Targaryens were fascinated by it.
But they were Lannisters. They had a higher calling. Surely she realized that.
"Is what wise?" he inquired of her.
She flicked a cross look his way. "Do not play games with me, husband. You know of what I speak."
Tywin fought down a rueful sigh, unable to rouse his temper against Joanna. She was his wife. His life, the one thing that kept him from strife. Should she ever die, then the best parts of him would surely perish as well. Which was the very reason he was avoiding her ire this evening.
"..."
Rather than retort, he looked back to his letter, deemed it ready, and sealed it accordingly with a bit of red wax and his signet ring. This one would go to Dorne, and by definition, the Martells. He needed to be certain the Crown wasn't courting them. Certainly not Ellia Martell. Apparently she'd rebuffed Rhaegar once already. If young Oberyn's letter was to be believed, his sister had sent used a great many hard words and sent the young dragon home with his tail between his legs.
Oh yes, he was well aware of the Crown Prince's movements. Such a shame he'd failed to find Lyanna Stark in Winterfell as well. Truly a pity.
Aerys was mad, not a prophecy-stricken fool, unlike his son. He'd realize what was happening sooner or later.
But for now...yes, this did put a smile on his face.
"Tywin?
Right, Joanna. Mustn't lose focus.
His beloved wife had crossed the room at some point and planted both hands on his writing desk. Now she glared a thim. "You cannot send Tyrion to foster in Highgarden."
"Would you rather I send him to the Vale? Two of the young Stark boys are already there-
She slammed a palm down. "I would prefer you send him nowhere at all!"
...ah. And so they circled back to this again.
"What would you have me do?" drawing himself back, he sat up in his chair and met her stare evenly. "Keep him here? We need to establish connections, and both the Arryns and the Tyrells each have large armies to field in the war to come-
"And both are loyal to the Targaryens!" she bit back. "You do not care for armies, husband. You simply want Tyrion gone from your sight."
Tywin clicked his tongue and fought down a wince. "You delude yourself."
Joanna stared. She stared hard. "Tell me I'm wrong."
His face closed down. "He nearly killed you."
Joanna tilted her head just so. "Yet here I stand."
He scowled at her. "You're not a Mormont. Don't use their words."
"Would you rather hear me roar, then?" a rare flash of ire danced in her eyes. "I'm quite capable of raising my voice when it suits me...as you well know."
Bloody relentless woman! She'd be the death of him someday. He just knew it.
But for now...
.
..
...he slumped with a sigh. "That will not be necessary. He shall remain here, if that is your wish."
Triumph gleamed in her eyes, hot and heady; naturally, like any true lioness, she pressed her advantage. "Tyrion is your son, my love. His mind is focused, his will strong, and his tongue sharp. He's much like you. Even if you do not wish to see it."
Did she think him blind? Of course he saw it. Tyrion's wit was undeniable. When faced with any problem, he always came up with the most remarkable solutions, even if they were sometimes unconventional. Such was why he'd put him in charge of Casterly Rock's sewers even at such a young age. He was smart. In time, the boy might be even more brilliant than Nathaniel. And yet...
He could not bring himself to acknowledge the boy.
Some small part of him wanted to, but then he remembered the blood, Joanna's screams, the sight of her slipping away as the light dimmed in her eyes...
He turned away with a pained noise, unable to countenance it. "Let us speak no more of this tonight."
Joanna remained relentless. "ANd what of Nathaniel, then? Surely you don't intend to send him far afield once more?"
"I do not."
He had briefly thought of sending him on a sojourn to Dorne to placate the Martells -Oberyn's sister Ellia seemed particularly keen to rekindle her acquaintance with him again- but the Dornish likely wouldn't give Nathaniel back anytime soon.
There were many things a man could resist in this life. Dornish women were...seldom one of them.
If he sent Nathaniel south, Lady Lyanna would insist upon joining him, which meant Cersei would have to tag along and he wouldn't see the three of them for years. Besides, they had a dragon to rear. The future of House Lannister would be decided int he coming months, if not years. Every fiber of their being must be focused on that.
Joanna's hand cupped his cheek. "You're lost in your head again, my love."
Perhaps he was.
"I do...have another concern." Her lips twisted. "Since his return, Nathaniel has spent much time with Cersei these days. Almost every day."
Tywin shrugged it off, not seeing the harm. "What of it? They haven't seen one another since they were children and he's teaching her the art of the sword, as you recall." he didn't miss the brief flash of displeasure in her eyes at that, but the deed was done; to go back on his word now would not only enrage Cersei, but it would make him seem weak, and weakness was something they could ill afford these days. "Frankly, the boy can do as he pleases so long as he doesn't get himself killed."
Joanna bit her lip and He sensed she had more to say on the matter, but chose not to prod her. "Are you concerned for Jaime, then?"
...I am," she confessed. "The sooner this madness ends-
"The sooner he will return to us. I know." He reached across the table and laid a hand on hers. "He's a Lannister. He'll do his duty. And once this War begins...it won't last long."
His wife huffed, threading her fingers through his. "Do you truly believe we will triumph?"
Tywin raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever known me to lose a war?
"No." she raised his hand to her lips and kissed him. "But for every day we delay, Jaime places himself in further danger. Perhaps I should go to King's Landing, reason with Aerys. He might yet see reason and release our son-
A rare ember of fear sparked in Tywin's chest, and with it, an old memory of their wedding night.
"Out of the question." he yanked her hand back down to him. "Have you forgotten what he nearly did to you that day?"
Joanna lifted her chin, ever the proud lioness, ever fearless. "I have not, dear husband. It is not him for whom I am concerned."
"As you've said time and again. He may release Jaime if you ask it of him, but he'll likely take you in return. And once he has you, he'll never let you go. Jaime is a Lannister. He will endure."
She smacked his chest. "He is your son! Just as Nathaniel and Tyrion are!"
"And he chose this path to protect them." he pulled her closer. "To protect us; to safeguard the Family."
His wife stomped on his foot and whirled away. Tywin let her have her distance for a moment, knowing he deserved it. Her anger vexed him regardless. He rather enjoyed this side of her; in public she was ever the calm, dignified lady, but in private she didn't hesitate to bare her fangs. But now was not such a time. With her questioning his every move, he felt his own resolve waver, if only for a moment.
"I am trying to protect them, Joanna."
She paused at the threshold, one hand gripping the door handle, on the verge of storming out the room. "You've an odd way of showing it."
"Have I not?" he stood, voice pitched to carry. "I did everything I could to safeguard them against the horrors of this world when they were children, but they are children no longer."
"Tyrion still is."
A muscle jumped in his jaw, but he furiously wrestled it down alongside his temper. "That may well be, but Tyrion will not be on the frontlines of this conflict. You know who will."
Joanna tucked her chin into her neck and refused to look at him.
"I will do terrible things in the War to come." Tywin circled the desk, took her hands in his and drew her against him, sighing but a little when she buried her head against his chest. "Its not a matter of if, but when." it was unheard of for him to plead to anyone for anything, and he only ever would here with her, but plead he did now. "I cannot fight these battles alone; not without you. Please. Help me keep them safe."
She made a noise that might've been agreement into his shoulder. One could never be certain with her. And so he continued speaking..
"Sooner or later, Aerys will overreach himself." Tywin said. "If not him, then that fool Rhaegar. I know not against who, or where, or how, but it will happen. And when it does, there will be war. The other kingdoms are already restless; it won't take much to have them choosing sides. And in the ware to come, Aerys must die. As shall Rhaegar and Viserys. Nothing less than complete and total eradication of his wretched line will allow our house to survive."
He could hear the tremor in her voice. "Viserys is even younger than Tyrion...
"And he will absolutely swear revenge if we send him into exile."
Here at last, she looked up at him. "And what of Rhaella?"
"The Queen's part in this remains to be seen." Tywin forced himself to be stern once more, to sound certain when he was anything but. "Whatever sentiment you feel for your old friend must be set aside. She made her choice long ago. As did we all."
"Yes, and now our son woos and writes poetry to her!" she flung up her arms. "The irony is not lost upon me!"
Tywin chuckled ruefully despite himself. "Does such a match trouble you?"
She waved a hand. "Its not that."
"Then what is it?" Nathaniel is nearly of age and any work he does with her will be to our benefit when war breaks out. "No matter who he chooses."
"I do not wish for our son to break her heart."
Was that her sole concern? He nearly laughed outright.
"Highly unlikely. That boy is kind; kinder than I wish him to be. He's the reason we've won Winterfell and Dorne to our side."
Joanna squinted a thim. "You're plotting something."
"I am," he confessed readily. "Can I trust you not to shout once you've heard it?"
She nodded, and he leaned in to whisper into her ear.
Once he'd finished, Joanna stared at him for a long moment. "You are setting a dangerous precedent, husband."
"Would you have Rhaella noble and dead with her husband, or happy and estranged. You cannot have both."
She buried her head in his shoulder. "I mislike all of this."
Tywin sighed. "As do I."
Rhaella had been...not a friend, he'd had few of those in his youth and she wasn't one of them but she had been an acquaintance. He had known her. Might've married her, had
Now he pitied her all the same. But he would never admit it. Once, shortly after he'd seen the first signs of Aerys' madness beginning to boil, he had suggested she take ship to Essos with her son, or perhaps further still, to the shadowlands of Asshai. Aerys was many things, but a suitable match for he was not.
Rhaella ignored him back then. And now look what came of it. A mad king sat the throne, his son deluded by prophecies, the realm riven by chaos.
He had warned her, blast it all, he'd warned her. But she hadn't heeded his advice. That his second son had chosen to communicate with Rhaella wasn't lost on him; seven hells, in another time, another life, perhaps he would've married her himself and brought her home to Casterly Rock. Perhaps, he could've saved her. But he'd always loved Joanna first and foremost. And so he had left Rhaella Targaryen to fend for herself, watching from afar as she diminished amidst that pit of vipers, became weaker, lesser...was forced to bear a son against her will.
Perhaps it could've been different.
Perhaps his son could do what he had not.
Perhaps young Nathaniel could free this broken dragon from her cage. Perhaps...
(.0.0.0.)
Rhaella Targaryen opened her eyes and found herself enshrouded in mist.
.
..
...that couldn't be right.
She remembered despairing for the lack of letters as of late before throwing on her favorite blue silk nightgown and laying down to sleep in her chambers.
Yes, she could recall that much. She'd fallen asleep in the Red Keep, just as she always had. In her bed!
Not...wherever here was.
Long blades of damp grass tickled her pale cheek -was she outside?- and tickled her toes, further rousing her to wakefulness.
Thusly baffled, the queen righted herself with a grimace. Panic mounted within her as she climbed to her feet, but standing only made things worse. Much worse. Twisting this way and that proved all for naught. Despite her best efforts she might, she couldn't make heads or tails of her surroundings. A fog-filled forest stretched around her for miles on every end; of the sun, she could see naught. Only that accursed foggy forest, the dim shapes of trees surrounding her. So close, yet just out of reach...
Rhaella ran a hand through the mist, gasping a little as it tingled her fingers. "Hello?" she called into the fog. "Is anyone there?"
And something.
Answered.
Her.
A mighty lion roared in the distance somewhere behind her, rattling the world. A wolf answered with a howl all its own, echoed by that of a young dragon. A serpent slithered over her foot -eeep!- and when she dared to look down at it, the viper bared its fangs at her. It was that which finally compelled the dragon queen to act; kicking the snake away and throwing herself at what she could only assume was the relative safety of the trees.
Choking down her panic, she darted forward, flinging herself against the bark.
Naturally her first instinct was to climb to safety, but try as she might, she couldn't find purchase against the tree.
She soon saw why; before her very eyes some small semblance of the mist cleared, allowing her to see that which she clung at. Pale of bark, a mighty face carved into the center, long branches straining toward the sky, leaves of blood red falling from the heavens. Belatedly, she realized what it was.
This was a Weirwood tree.
Panic bleated in her mind, hot and heady. Where was she? What was this? Be this some manner of a a waking dream? Or a nightmare? Perhaps a-
"Dreams are strange things, aren't they?"
Rhaella shrieked and nearly jumped clear out of her skin!
Flailing in the fog, she pivoted one heel, seeking the speaker, "What is this? Who are you? Show yourself!"
A slim silhouette appeared. "No need to shout...
As she looked on aghast, a young man emerged from the mist, clad in a golden doublet with long red riding breeches and black boots. His eyes were bright and piercing, his hair the color of spun gold, and yet for all the power and charisma he exuded, his smile was unusually...kind. She hadn't laid eye on him all her life, yet something in her heart sang at the sight of him.
"Who are you?"
"You know me." She'd never heard his voice before in all her life, yet somehow his words sent a shiver through her all the same. "I've been writing to you for awhile now, guiding you."
Her heart hitched beneath her breasts. "I do not know you, ser."
"Yes, you do." the blond laughed softly, it was a rich, resonant rumble. "You know me," he repeated, drawling the last word. "We're old friends now."
"Are we?" She squinted him. "We haven't met."
"Oh, but we have, just not in person." he winked once her way, paused, frowned now as his body flickered, like some insubstantial ghost gone come morning light. "Blasted jutsu," he muttered under his breath, "I wish I could reach further with this darn thing, but this only seems to function for those I have a close bond with." counting down on his fingers, he shook his head. "And even there's the matter of distance. Doing this is actually pretty draining! Forget about Dorne, I could barely reach you in King's Landing."
He was rambling, yet something his voice calmed her. "Tell me your name, good sir."
"There's no need to." the bemused blond shook his head, and for a moment his voice lapsed into something more. "You already know who I am. All this trouble was worth it to finally see your face. I've never put this much effort into talking to someone before, and yet here I am, moving heaven and earth for you." his head tilted just so, a bitter smile crossed his pale face. "Don't you think that's weirdly fucked up?"
Her heart hitched. This couldn't be her paramour. Surely not...?
Clasping her hands together before her stomach, Rhaella lifted her chin and stared him down. "Tell me something then. Something only he would know."
A blond brow rose. "Going to make me repeat what I wrote to you, now?"
She stared at him, lips trembling, not daring to move.
For some reason, that amused him.
He did it.
Crossing both arms before his chest, her strange-dream-friend casually recited every single thing he'd ever written to her over the years, word for wicked word, until her face burned from shame. She didn't want to believe him at first; couldn't bring herself to trust in what he was saying, until he proved himself. It shouldn't be possible. She had been the only one to read those letters and she'd burned them almost immediately thereafter to make certain no one else ever would.
And then, with but a smirk, he proved himself beyond all semblance of doubt. "Is your lord husband enjoying his little itching treatment? That was a very difficult disease for me to recreate, I'll have you know."
Rhaella hiccuped once, hand before her face to cover her mouth eyes shimmering with tears. "It really IS you...isn't it?" Her eyes widened as she realized who he was. "You're Nathaniel Lannister."
Tywin's son knelt, took her hand in his, and kissed the back of her knuckles with infinite tenderness. "I am, as always, your loyal servant, my queen."
A crack etched itself into the wall she'd flung up around her heart.
Said crack widened into a fissure when he squeezed her hand.
Nathaniel Lannister might've been a boy when they first began communicating, but now he was very much a young man. All to the better. She needn't feel as though she were robbing the proverbial cradle. More than that, he'd not made a single demand of her, yet. He simply knelt there, holding her hand, rubbing the back of her fingers in quiet comfort. Such a kind and gentle gesture. Somehow that hurt her worse than any words could.
She felt her eyes begin to water, and sniffled, as she hadn't since she was a little girl. "How is this possible?"
"Now you're asking the right questions." The Lannister Lord chuckled at that, it was a surprisingly boyish sound as he released her hand -why so soon?!- and climbed to his feet. "As to your answer, it took a week of preparation, a bit of Weirwood, and no small amount of my own blood and chakra." he cast a glance for their misty surroundings and adopted a grin once more. "It took multiple tries, but I suppose ninth time is the charm."
That...wasn't how the saying went at all. It felt like he was hiding something from her. "Chakra? Is that some manner of Magic?
He beamed. "Of a sort."
"Impossible." she shook her head, violet eyes blinking, pale hair swaying. "Magic is long gone from this world."
"It was, but no longer. "He smiled. I thought it time we had a meeting face to face. In the flesh." He looked down at himself ruefully. "Well, not quite. Semantics."
She drew in a shuddering breath. "This is a dream. None of this is real. Do not mock me."
"You're right, it IS a dream, ya know." Nathaniel bobbed his head in sage agreement, confusing her even more. "One we're both having at this very moment. And its VERY real. Aerys can't see you here, he can't touch you here, and most importantly, he can't hurt you here."
Rhaella touched a hand to her throat, swallowing a sob ever so softly. "Aerys hasn't touched me in years. I've been drugging his meals."
"Really?" Nathaniel beamed, delighted by her confession. "Good on you! You didn't mention that in your letters."
No, she had not. It was something she'd held onto, just in case. She must be certain of his intent.
"How'd you do it?" he asked.
"Milk of the Poppy." she confessed. "Varys helps, on occasion."
Nathaniel's brow shot into his hair. "The Spider? I wasn't aware he disliked Aerys."
Her lips twitched, recalling the eunuch's instructions.
"Continue your correspondence."
That was all. No sinister scheme, no perilous plan, simply continue speaking with the Young Lion and determine whether he was suitable.
Suitable for what, the Spider would not say. Rhaella had an inkling...
"He despises him." the admittance lifted a burden from her heart. "I believe many of us do. Aerys has lost a great many friends at court as of late."
Nathaniel hummed and thumbed his chin. "And Rhaegar?"
The son who had been forced upon her against her consent, just like Viserys. The son who thought himself the "Prince Who Was Promised" the chosen one meant to unite the realm. The son who had rode North to seek a Stark, only to return despondent. The very same son who even now was like to do something foolish and get the lot of them killed.
Rhaella lifted her chin. "I do not wish to speak of him."
The Lannister Lord nodded once in understanding. "Then we won't."
And there it was, more proof provided, another unspoken test passed. An impostor would've claimed he knew about her drugging the mad king's meals, the Spider and more, all to earn her favor and worm his way into her graces. Nathaniel Lannister merely shrugged and congratulated her for doing what she must to defend herself. If she hadn't been sure before, she was now.
Perhaps the Young Lion saw her fear; maybe he simply had a keen eye. Regardless, he stepped closer to her. "Its alright. You're safe here. No one can harm you."
Safe? Nowhere was safe. Even here in this strange place she didn't feel entirely secure. She whimpered. "Don't do that. Don't give me hope."
Her lion granted her a small, sad smile. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring it to you sooner."
Hope was such a strange thing, wasn't it? Harder than diamond, yet more fragile than dragonglass.
With just a little bit of hope, the last of Rhaella's walls came tumbling down.
She began to weep.
"My lion!"
Her body betrayed her wholeheartedly and raced forward to drag him into her embrace. To his credit, Nathaniel didn't resist, only rocking back a bit on his heels as she crushed his body to hers, nearly burying his face in her bosom in her haste to get at him. Muted laughter was muffled into her shoulder.
"Hugs are nice, aren't they?"
Hugs were very nice indeed, but she craved more than that. She wanted very much to kiss him, but she was afraid. This was their first time meeting, and only in a dream. He might not feel the same. He might care for her the way she had come to care for him. What if she had read the signs wrong? What if she was mistaken? What if everything went wrong?
No.
She couldn't.
Rhaella absolutely did not dare; if only because her heart would shatter if she was wrong.
"Fool of a boy," she muttered into his shoulder instead. "You're a Lannister through and through." That remark seemed to please him, somewhat, judging by his hum, yet when he sought to draw back, she clung onto him. "May we remain like this for awhile...?"
"As long or little as you like." he cast a glance about. "I'm not quite sure how time works here." those piercing eyes regarded the mists with intent. "We could have a few minutes or a few hours, depending how long we're asleep for."
Rhaella drew back to squint at him, mildly incredulous. "You've not tested this before?"
He granted her a boyish grin, simple and clean. "This is my first success."
Her face warmed. "And your first thought was to see me?"
"I promised I would save you, didn't I?"
With that, the Queen felt her heart lurch anew. She was not an old woman, but neither was she young, either. Blast it all. She was nearly old enough to be his mother. And yet she found herself desiring him all the same. Someone like this...she was meant to have a husband like this-no, she craved a husband like this. Not the monster Aerys had become. He was younger than her, and she would only ever grow older.
T'was not fair.
A hand patted her shoulder. "You looked tired, Your Grace. Don't you have enough energy? Here, take some of mine."
An odd energy surged through Rhaella's body in that moment; in hindsight she couldn't quite explain it; only that it was suddenly everywhere at once. Racing up her spine, warming her belly, tingling her toes, sending a warm flush to her cheeks. She squinted down at her unlikely paramour. "What did do?"
"What I always do. I helped." he clapped his hands suddenly, startling her. "Let's start with your fears then, shall we?
With a wave of Nathaniel's hand, the misty surroundings of the Dream began to blur, fog fading to conjure the Red Keep in its place. In a matter of moments she found herself standing before the Iron Throne.
No.
Not here.
Please not this place...!
Sure enough, when she turned around, she found Aerys sat atop that ghastly chair, staring hatefully down at the two of them in all his ghastly glory.
Rhaella flinched at the sight despite herself. Must he haunt her even in her dreams?
"Woman!" the dark specter of her dreams sneered at her venomously. "Why have you brought this Lion into our halls? I should have you whipped!"
She recoiled. "Please, make him go away-
"Shhhhh."
Naruto stalked up the steps to Aerys, taking them two at a time and seized the squawking king by the robe. When the king tried to protest he struck him in the skull, stunning him. From there he turned and dragged the dazed dragon down the throne with one hand, uncaring of the cuts and bruises he inflicted upon the way.
He threw him down at Rhaella's feet wit.
"You dare let him strike me?!" sputtering, the one-armed monarch drew himself upright. "I am your husband! I am your KING!" For an awful moment he seemed to tower over her. "Remove your dress at once and submit yourself to me!" Ugly yellow fingernails clawed at her grown as she shrank back. "I shall plant another boy in your belly! Perhaps them you will BEHAVE-
An open palm cracked across the face of Aerys, obliterating an eye and tearing three teeth free to send the mad king crashing down on his arse.
Rhaella balked at her hand, palm still extended from the blow.
Nathaniel hadn't been the one to strike him.
She had.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Nathaniel stepped into her from behind and planted his chin upon her shoulder. "See, that's the thing about dreams." he conjured a sword out of thin air and pressed it into her hand. "You can do whatever you want here." wrapping his fingers around hers, he showed her how to hold the strangely weightless blade. "Let's call it therapy."
Stepping back, he gestured to the fallen "king" where he lay.
"Kill him." he spoke softly, the words the darkest seduction. "Kill him now."
"Aerys" garbled something where he lay. It sounded vaguely like a threat. Rhaella hesitated.
"I can't...
Nathaniel tutted. "You're only as weak as you allow yourself to be."
Her nightmare laughed at her through broken teeth. "She won't kill me...she's weak...she's nothing without me...
Is she, now?" Nathaniel scoffed. "She's stronger than you know."
He looked to her.
"Do it."
Rhaella grimaced, hefted her borrowed weapon high over her head, braving the blade with both hands as best she could.
"Nothing without me," her Fears rasped the same tune over and over, a broken instrument without tune. "Nothing."
She brought the sword down on his neck with a snarl.
It was a clean cut; through and through, far more powerful than she had any right to be. The king's head fell from his shoulders, struck the flagstones, bounced once, and lost its crown. Bereft of the one who once wore it, his golden circlet rolled away into the darkness, lost in the dream. She reached out for it in vain with her right hand, and to her surprise, said crown materialized within her grasp.
Nathaniel sketched a sweeping bow and applauded her work. "Long live the queen."
A tiny, disbelieving laugh leaped from her lips. "This really is a dream, isn't it?"
"It is."
She looked back to the throne, dream-sword still in hand. "...can I kill him again?"
"As many times as you like," he promised her. "I'll help you conquer every negative emotion holding you back. But first...
A snap of the Lannister's fingers rendered the king's corpse so much dust on the wind, which soon faded away on an unseen breeze. The rest of the scene shifted as they eschewed the Red Keep altogether, leaving King's Landing behind completely. And in its place...
.
..
...
She didn't know where this was.
The smell of fire and sulfur assailed her nose, accompanied by the cries of countless dragons. She looked up and found them wheeled high in the skies above, threatening to blot out the sun in its entirety. Each had a rider of their own, and there on the horizon, so many large buildings and castles...
"There." he hummed, inordinately pleased with himself. "That's much better. I wanted to give you a reprieve from the day to day and show you something fantastic. Old Valyria sounded nice. I've never seen it before, but I've read enough books to get a good idea of what it was like.
It looked even better than she thought it would.
Something screeched overhead.
Rhaella looked up.
A great crimson dragon swooped down -swooping is bad!- and landed before them with a thunderous crash, rattling the very dream itself. She had all of an instant to comprehend its majesty, a panicked moment to notice the horns, its great long neck and those nine scaled tails, before it was upon her. It charged forward!
The queen balked and raised both hands, expecting a fiery death in the dream...
.
..
...it never came.
Rather than devour her whole, the beast butted her with its snout ever so gently, driving her back a step. When she didn't fall it repeated the gesture, forcing her to catch its snout in both hands and stand her ground lest she be bowled over entirely. Oddly enough that seemed to please the crimson wyrm, who promptly leaned into her in recompense for her temerity.
His scales were sharp; like running her hands over sandpaper fused with broken glass.
Woe to the creature that tried to bite him. They'd tear their mouth to shreds.
He seemed awfully detailed for some specter of a dream...
Sinister scarlet slits regarded her for a long moment and she fought down a shiver when she saw the intelligence behind him. This was a dream. She knew it was. Nathaniel had said as much. None of this was real. And yet for a moment she couldn't help but be struck by the awe of it all.
"Magnificent." she murmured, stroking his snout. "I've always wanted to meet a dragon. Its a shame you're not real...
The dragon snorted once through his nostrils, blasting her hair back. "You'll see soon enough."
Had she heard a voice just now?
Nathaniel thrust himself between them before she could dwell on it.
"Hey, hey!" He wagged a finger at the beast. "What did I say?! You can't just go dropping into her dream like that! You'll scare her!"
The mighty dragon reared back and huffed indignantly at him, making a decidedly human noise.
"Excuse me?!" The Lannister lord planted a fist on his hip. "Care to say that again?!"
The dragon clicked its jaw at him, conjuring a baleful red spark.
"You wanna lose your desert privileges?"
The dragon laid its head down in defeat.
"That's what I thought." He scratched its chin, voice roughening for a moment. "C'mon now, Kurama, I know you wanted to meet her an' all but this ain't the way...you're not even this big yet! That's cheating!"
Rhaella dared to peer past him. "And who is this?"
Nathaniel craned his neck back to look at her. "Someone you'll meet soon enough." his simple declaration stole her breath away. "I'd offer you his first flight, if you like...?"
First flight? But that would imply that actually had a...dragon...
.
..
...oh, dear.
Here at last, her resolve failed her. "Another time, perhaps."
"Suit yourself." he looked back to the wyrm with a whistle. "Back you go, Kurama!"
The scarlet terror beat its wings once and winged away, the backdraft of which nearly leveled them both. Rhaella watched him wheel away into the dream, leaving them alone once more. She had an awful inlking that she had just paid witness to something remarkable, something her ancestors hadn't seen in years.
Only then did she dare look to her love. "Will I remember this, when I wake up?"
"Every bit of it." his smile warmed her more than words.
And yet a question gnawed at her.
She stared at him for a long moment, breathless and incandescent. "Who are you, really? All this magic, everything you've done; it beggars belief. You're most than just some Lannister lord, aren't you?"
For some reason that made Nathaniel smile. It was a small, sad little thing, and she felt his pain through it.
Rhaella backpedaled verbally. "I meant no offense.
He held up a hand to reassure her.
"None taken. Its been a long while since someone asked me that. But why not?" Nathaniel shrugged a shoulder. "If there was anyone I'd share this with, it would be you. After all, your people lost their home, just as I was forced from mine. You asked who I am...well...
He waved his hand once more, and their surroundings shifted, the vista of the Red Keep falling away to reveal a village overlooked by Four Stone Faces.
A boy walked past them, a boy who both was, and was not Nathaniel. She didn't fail to notice the faint resemblance between them.
Nathaniel noticed and smiled indulgently. "Let me tell you my story...
(.0.0.0.)
The next morning, the queen awoke feeling younger than she had in years.
Her body was veritably buzzing with energy; so much so that she found herself vaulting out of bed without a care in the world. For once, her body didn't protest.
Curious.
Paying the thought no mind, she stretched with a languid sigh, taking a moment to revel in rare relief. Nathaniel -or Naruto, she supposed, having learned his true name- had been right after all; she did remember the dream, every bit of it, and the subsequent story that followed.
What a story it was! She'd been both honored and saddened to learn of it. Such a life he had led...
Cold stone greeted her bare feet as she found the floor causing her to hissed indignantly, skipping across the room to find her slippers. Clutching her gown close to herself for modesty's sake, she padded toward the door, intent on finding some breakfast before the rest of the castle roused itself. It was always wise to find food before Aerys started skulking the halls...
Unbidden, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she rose and froze.
Wait a moment-who was that stranger staring back at her?
Full lips parted, forming a small "o" of confusion.
Rhaella blinked at herself. She blinked hard. Her reflection blinked back, looking just as flummoxed as she felt. Aghast, she laid a hand upon her left cheek and balked at what she found there. Sure enough, her other self mirrored her movements perfectly. Her hand flitted left, right, left once more, then right again.
Therein lie the problem!
She very nearly didn't recognize herself. No wait, she did, but t'was a young woman staring back at her, lively and surprised. Because you see, she looked...younger. As though someone simply stripped a decade from her overnight. The lines of age were gone from her visage, seemingly smoothed out overnight, the crow's feet absent from the corner of her eyes and when she looked down and rand a cursory hand over herself, everything felt...firmer, for lack of a better word. Properly in its place, just like before.
A hysteric giggle fled from her lips before she could think to hold it back.
Don't scream. Mustn't scream She'd attract the guards.
How had this happened? How...?
The answer came quickly.
Nathaniel.
He'd done something to her, hadn't her?
"You looked tired, Your Grace. Don't you have enough energy? Here, take some of mine."
What mad manner of magic was this? Had he given her some of his life force? Was that possible with magic? She knew naught and it frightened her...but also excited her.
Could he make her even younger, perhaps? Restore her to her prime?
Absently, she ran a trembling hand through her pale hair; noting how smooth it was, that it no longer felt as stiff and lank as it had before. That settled it, then. She was younger. It was subtle, not enough to notice straight away unless one knew what to look for, but for one who knew herself as well as she...there could be no denying what her reflection told her. He had done this for her, out of the kindness of his own heart.
Something settled into the back of Rhaella's mind, a steely resolve.
She had lost a Lion once, long, long ago.
This time, she wasn't letting go.
(.0.0.0.)
Cersei flew backwards.
It was not a particularly pleasant flight for her; she landed hard on her back, skidded across the room, and didn't stop until she finally struck a wall. Even then she didn't dare dally; to stay still on the floor was to ask for another attack, to hesitate meant defeat.
Oh, yes.
Hesitation is defeat.
And she knew a great deal about that.
Sure enough her adversary's sword sought her out, sweeping in for her head. Tumbling into a crouch, she dodged His blow, dragged herself upright and assessed her injuries. Her right arm ached abominably and she knew it would be bruised on the morrow through no fault but her own. Blunted blades or no, they still hurt, far worse than wooden weapons, and she'd been sloppy.
It didn't stop her from rising to her feet; because rise she must, if she was to get any better at this.
All the while she could feel His eyes upon her, sharper than any blade. He could disarm her with but a flick of His wrist. Such was His skill.
Nathaniel kicked the blade her way. "Pick it up."
Didn't need to tell her twice!
A shame he didn't have that darling dragon with him today; but she knew why he couldn't be allowed free reign of the castle. No, these days Kurama dwelt solely in the Stone Garden, under heavy guard. None were allowed below without Father's express consent.
One servant had tried to sneak a peak at the little dragonling. Once.
Their head was currently decorating the battlements.
None had tried since.
"Pay attention, Cersei."
Gritting her teeth, she dragged her sword arm up and adopted the stance she'd been shown. Sword held in her right hand, shield clutched white-knuckled in her left. The mere act of holding them up wore down on her stamina more than she cared to admit. Why did weapons have to be so heavy? Lyanna made this look easy...!
His sword slashed in at her hair, and she nearly lost an inch. In truth she would've cut her hair if she could've got away with it, but Nathaniel and Tyrion had despaired at the idea, making such a fuss until Mother put her foot down. It wasn't fair: she was older than him. Why was he so much better than her?
Nathaniel stared at her intently and the intensity of His gaze reminded her to strengthen her defenses.
"Good." He saluted with his sword in a mad flourish. "Prepare yourself. En Garde~!
Cersei tried to prepare herself, she really did.
Alas, she had much to learn.
He led with a lunging thrust, and her first instinct was to block with her shield. It was a good instinct; but useless where her brother was concerned; his blunted blade bounced off her shield, true enough but it did nothing to stop him from sweeping her legs. To the hells with dresses, give her a tunic and breeches any day! Down she went, tumbling to the floor.
A shadow fell over her and she lashed out wildly against the followthrough, slapping his blade away.
Unfortunately in seeking to parry, she failed to anticipate his next move; his blade wove a steel cage around her, a blinding blur of motion. She sought to thread her way through it as best she could, but that too proved a mistake. One did not sail into a storm, they ran from it or outlasted it, and she could do neither. An overhand smash ripped her shield out of her grasp, disarming her, forcing her to brave her blade with both hands just to stave him off.
Each block rattled her bones.
But that was good. She wanted this. She wanted...!
Cersei grinned, took a hit on the shoulder bait him and dove in.
"Ha!" she smacked Nathaniel;s flank with her blade and danced back out of range. "I finally hit you!
She missed Jaime, a part of her always would, but Nathaniel was different. He understood her; he hadn't scoffed when she wished to learn the art of the sword.
And he was a good teacher.
Most men would've balked if they got hit by a girl.
Nathaniel gave her the biggest smile. "Not bad. Reckless, but not bad."
Pride fluttered to life in her chest and took wing.
'Ah, yes, that's it. Praise me more...
"A girl still sees may holes," Nymeria snapped from the sidelines, ruining her high.
'Wretched little-no, no, be nice Cersei...
"You're not the one fighting." she managed a saccharine smiling that had the Blackfyre girl scowling her way. "I'm sure you have holes of your own.
"She's right." and then he agreed with her! The gall of it all! "You essentially took a fatal blow just to land a hit on me. That's not a good trade."
Cersei sulked, huffed and, with an effort, wrangled her temper back under control. Taking a deep breath to master herself, she refused to look at the Faceless Girl. It wasn't fair. Was a little praise so much to ask for? She wasn't used to this, wasn't skilled like them, wasn't-
...still." Nathaniel's gloved hand descended upon her head and tousled her hair. "You're improving. Well done."
Her heart went thud-thud-thud as her face flushed.
"However...
With a flick of his heel, he swept her legs, sending her sprawling again.
Alright, alright! She needed to work on her footing! She got it!
"You do realize this means war, little brother."
Lyanna watched intently, sometimes she even deigned to join in on their little bouts. The Stark girl was better than her. It called her to admit it, but admit it she must. She had an earlier start and the benefit of a master at arms in Winterfell. Cersei had none of these things. She was forced to build her foundation from the ground up, and each lesson was often a painful one.
Yet for all the pain and suffering, she loved it.
Pain was a terrible teacher; terrible, but effective. For every injury she took she learned. Slow and steady wins the race, so don't rush and keep your pace and all that.
Easier said than done. She needed to learn and learn quickly; it was the only way she could make herself useful to him.
There was talk of tourneys and feasts and celebrations, all dutifully denied. She knew why. Robert Baratheon's visits, once a constant in Nathaniel's absence, soon ceased with her brother's return. Not for lack of interest on Baratheon's part but because the roads were no longer safe. The realm made ready for war under the mad king's nose, and sides were being chosen.
A shame. Robert had been eager to meet Nathaniel. They would've gotten along swimmingly
Nathaniel clicked His tongue, commanding her attention. "Again."
Cersei sprang to her feet and flung herself at him.
She would grow stronger; she must.
She would be of use to him.
So she swore.
In her darker moments she oftentimes wondered what it might be like when her skill exceeded him, when she was the one disarming him...pinning him to a wall and-
THUMP!
Her brother's blade bounced off her thigh, shattering her thoughts and drawing a yelp.
You're holding the sword too tightly," he chided her.
Was she?
Cersei adjusted accordingly in the hope of earning his praise, only for him to sweep the blade from her grasp, catch it in his free hand, and scissored them both over her head.
"Now too lightly."
She released an excited breath, face red. "Again."
Nathaniel drew back and released her. "Are you...are you enjoying this?"
(.0.0.0.)
"Are you enjoying this?"
Sometimes Naruto wondered if Cersei was; no matter how many times he bested her, she got right back up again. That either implied some love of pain or determination on her part; he hoped it was the latter. It would be rather awkward otherwise.
Credit where it was due, she wiped some blood from her nose, turned head aside, and spat.
Huh. No wonder Robert Baratheon loved his sister. Men adored a woman willing to tousle with them.
"You have no idea how long I've wished to swing a sword." brandishing her blade, she moved to circle him, and he matched her in return, hanging off her every word. "This is a dream come true. Break every bone in my body if you must, shatter my spirit, but I WILL learn.
His heart thudded strangely in his chest and he shook his head to clear it. "Of that, I have no doubt."
Lyanna coughed and they broke apart.
He looked Lady Stark's way with a cheeky grin.
She was watching intently...with a new friend sprawled in her lap.
He remembered that night well; he'd awoken to a howl in the night and stormed into her room...well. The results spoke for themselves:
"Behold!" Nymeria had held up her prize. "A girl brought it here from Winterfell!"
A direwolf pup, young, perhaps a year old or so enough to have been weaned. His coat was a fine shade of black, his eyes a deep and piercing blue. He took one look at it and it all made sense; her cryptic statements way back in Winterfell, the occasional twitching of her satchel, and the squirrely behavior since.
Lyanna, of course, had been delighted. "He's lovely! Can I keep him?"
Naruto frowned. "Casterly Rock is no place for a wolf pup."
I'll take good care of him!"
"Lyanna...
"Please! I've never asked you for anything!"
Naruto faltered, just a little.
Lyanna kept staring.
"Blast it all...fine! But he's your responsibility!"
"She," Nymeria coughed, correcting him. "A girl checked."
Lyanna swept the pup into her arms. "I shall call her Shadow~!"
"Really need to work on your naming sense there, love...
Naruto blew out a fond sigh at the memory and lazily deflected Cersei again.
Dragons and direwolves and lions, oh my! What was next, would his dear sister find a lion cub or something?
.
..
...best not tempt fate.
His sister lunged at him and he parried lazily, tapping her shoulder with his dulled blade. "A girl is dead!"
Lyanna chuckled as she stroked Shadow's inky coat.
Nymeria hid a smile behind her hand.
Cersei howled with anger.
But she improved.
(.0.0.0.)
Jaime did his best not to smile.
Truly, it was a contest of wills; his mouth wanted nothing more than to grin, but he knew that to do so int he King's presence would surely see him shortened by a head.
Because you see, Aerys had forfeited a foot.
Not through an enemy attack or an such worsening of his disease, but due to his own base stupidity. In a fit of madness he'd claimed his right leg was the cause of his latest bout of incessant itching and so commanded his Kingsguard to amputate the offensive limb at the ankle. None dared refuse him. No, not these days. Not anymore.
Ser Gerold Hightower had been the one to make the cut; His Grace had shrieked and spat and snarled like a feral beast. It was not a sound Jaime ever wished to hear again.
.
..
...it was still worth it to see Aerys hobbling about the halls with a peg leg..
And now, in a bitter twist of irony, the king's other foot seemed to be showing signs of infection.
So sad! Such a shame! What a pity! Surely the people mourned their monarch's failing health as he fell further and further into decline.
No so Jaime. He took wicked pleasure in the king's suffering. Every bit of agony he suffered was sweet ambrosia to him. Perhaps that wasn't knightly of him. To the seven hells with that. He longed for the day when he could drive his sword through the mad king's back.
This man had forced him away from his family, and the Seven Kingdoms couldn't be rid of him quickly enough.
Whatever had taken Aerys clearly wasn't Greyscale; else the lot of King's Landing would have been infected by now. This was something else. Something worse. A death by degrees, agonizing suffering drawn out as his body slowly succumbed to whatever was infecting it. No one knew what it was.
A pox, or so Grand Maester Pycelle claimed. Though he had finally returned to King's Landing at the behest of Aerys, his efforts were only ever been able to treat the mad king's symptoms, not the inherent caus of his disease. That was the beauty of it, you see. Because no one knew what it was!
Nathaniel had done his work well. Jaime resolved to get him something nice for it when all this was over.
But for now he listened as rumors ran rampant through the Red Keep. Some said that the Throne itself was rejecting the King, that it had cursed him in his madness. Who knew? Not him. He kept his mouth shut and his distance alongside it, content to be appear loyal and faithful, to be seen "honoring" his vow.
Ha!
So many vows. Just the thought of them nearly made him click his tongue in open derision. They make you swear and swear, don't they? Defend the King, obey the King, obey your father, protect the innocent, defend the weak. But what if your father despises the King? What if the King's gone mad? What if he massacres the innocent? It's too much. No matter what you do, you're forsaking one vow or another...
Might as well forsake the King while he was at it then, do his best to subtly speed things along.
And when the deed was done and Aerys was dead, he could finally go home.
He could see it now; a vision in his mind's eye.
Everyone was waiting for him.
So yes, outwardly, Jaime Lannister betrayed no semblance of emotion as Aerys suffered and snarled, and cut himself on the throne once more, issuing edict after idiotic edict; unaware of the hole he was digging himself into. He didn't even need a shove at this point; his and Rhaegar's incompetence did the work for him.
He played the part, pretended to be the good Kinsguard, the loyal Kingsguard, the faithful Kingsguard.
But in his heart of hearts, where no one could see? He wore the biggest smile.
And the world spun on.
(.0.0.0.)
The Kraken observed the Lion from afar.
Wondering. Watching. Waiting.
For a moment of weakness
(.0.0.0.)
Rickard read another of Lyanna's letters and smiled softly.
His daughter was safe in the West, Rhaegar rebuffed.
Now he had but to wait.
(.0.0.0.)
Ellia saddled her horse.
Her patience had reach its limit; she would wait no longer.
Tonight, she and Oberyn would finally ride for Casterly Rock.
(.0.0.0.)
Varys was no stranger to chaos.
Chaos was a pit, to be avoided at all costs.
And so he sent off another one of his little birds.
If a mad dragon must die for the sake of the realm...
...if the realm required a nudge...
...then so be it.
(.0.0.0.)
Resist.
Must resist.
She should resist.
Yes, she really ought to resist.
None of this wasn't decent; none of it was proper.
And yet her thoughts were the whetstone of desire, urging her on, and on, and ON...
...until she snapped.
(.0.0.0.)
Someone knocked on his door.
Naruto answered it without thinking.
He'd expect Lyanna. He was prepared for Lyanna...
.
..
...this was not Lyanna.
"Cersei."
"I couldn't sleep." clad in nothing more than a golden gown, she squirmed past him, ducking under his arm to gain entry. "I had to see you."
"Why?" he turned, baffled.
She met his gaze and for a fleeting moment she wasn't his sister but a gorgeous young woman-no, no, no. That was a dark path, the same sort of debauchery that led the Targaryens to madness. Surely she wouldn't appreciate it.
"Have you slept with the Stark girl yet?"
The sudden inquiry question irked him for all the wrong reasons. "She has a name."
"Lyanna, then." She clasped both hands and laid them in her lap. "My question still stands. Have you?"
His lips thinned. "...We have not."
"Why?"
He sealed his lips further, refusing to reply.
"Good." his silence seemed to please her, oddly enough. "I want to help you, little brother."
Help, she said. He eyed her warily. "What kind of help...?"
Cersei leaned in and whispered into his ear.
His eyes widened. "What are you even-father would be furious!
"He would. We need only keep it between the two of us. You want to learn how to please Lyanna, don't you?" when he didn't answer, she smiled softly. I don't know how to please Robert." she confessed. "We can learn together, if you like."
Wherever this was going...well. It sounded like a slippery slope. Dangerously so.
She leaned forward and kissed him, her lips lingering on his. He froze, every thought fizzling out. In theory, he wasn't her brother. Not really. Nathaniel Lannister should never have been born. It was a flimsy argument and he immediately rebuked himself for it.
Kurama offered him the mental equivalent of a shrug. "Don't ask me. This is your choice to make, not mine."
"Traitor!"
Cersei was aware of none of it.
"You always have to stop with her. You can never go too far, no matter how much you might want. But you don't have to worry about that with me." She was begging, almost pleading, all semblance of control gone. "I want you. I need you. I...she looked away with a sigh. "You must think I'm wretched. That I'm trying to corrupt you. I'm not. Nothing could be further from the truth. You've done so much to help me. This is all I can do. The only thing I can possibly offer you.
You don't need to-
"I want to."
He recoiled as she dropped her dress, baring her bountiful bosom -and herself!- to him in her entirety.
He averted his gaze quickly, cursing himself for letting it linger so long. "What in the seven hells are you doing?"
Rather than retort, she stalked across the room and moved to his side. From there, she sat beside him, naked as the say she was born.
"Would you like to touch them?" She tossed her head with a flourish and touched a hand to her chest, long golden curls falling over her bare bosom to preserving her dignity, if only just. "I don't mind."
He didn't budge.
She giggled. "I'm not trying to trick you, brother."
He eyed her warily. "then why do I feel like this is a trap?"
"It isn't," she insisted. "No one else knows I'm here. This is just practice."
"Practice?" He hissed incredulously, unable to understand her. "Practice for what?"
Even as he spoke, Cersei stepped forward, took ahold of one of his hand hand and guided it to her right breast, gliding his thumb over her nipple.
"See?" She arched her neck back and mewled softly as he caressed her. "How could something that feels this good possibly be a sin?"
Her words were like poisoned honey, warm and sweet, lulling him into a false sense of security. He tried to speak, but in the same instant she dipped her head lower and kissed his neck, then his chin, followed by his cheek before she dragged her mouth to his.
It felt...he did know how it felt, and that frightened him.
His resolve hardened against it and he drew himself back, hand an' all. "Stop manipulating me."
"Is that what you fear?" Here at last a rare flash of hurt flitted across Cersei's fine facial features. "I'm being honest with you." she reached up to stroke his cheek. "I have always been honest with you, from the moment you left Casterly Rock." Planting herself in his lap, she sat there, forcing him to look upon her in her nakedness. "I know I can never be with you, not really, Father will never allow that, but I can help you."
A hand danced across his chest, unfurling a frisson of desire deep within.
"Everything you can't do with the Stark girl right now, you can do with me." she kissed him once more, tempting him not just with her body and her words, but with possibility. "To me. I'll take it all. Your desires, your distractions, your depravity, all so you can better learn how to please her."
Did she truly believe that? Or did she just desire him for herself? He couldn't be certain and in concerned him more than he cared to admit. "Cersei...
"The Targaryens had brothers lay with sisters for hundreds of years," she crooned, "Why should we deny ourselves?"
When she dipped down to kiss him once more, he stubbornly turned his face aside. "And children...?"
Her face went rosy. "Is that your desire? I can drink Moon Tea, if you don't wish it."
His face closed down as a muscle jumped in his jaw.
She did not see it. "Let me help you, Nathaniel."
Or perhaps she simply did not wish to see.
"...!"
It was too much; too sudden; too soon; he tumbled out from under her, rolled off the bed and sprang to his feet, face red-hot as he warded an arm between the two of them. "You...need to go. Now."
Cersei smiled sadly. "You needn't decide yet. We've plenty of time. Just know that I love you, little brother."
She kissed his forehead, retrieved her robe, and left him with that.
His bed had never felt so cold in all his life.
Dark were his dreams that night.
A/N: Ironically, she wasn't lying. But what will his decision be?
Worry not, we've got a pairing for Jaime in the works. Several folks have already figured it out.
Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it. Well, should this remain a story? Would you like weekly updates? I've got five slots left. Or should it remain monthly? By all means, speak up.
As ever, the Embers rule remains: If people don't like this story? If they don't enjoy it? Well...I won't be able to continue it. That's no joke, folks. I'm so busy these days with two jobs; and basically, I don't have time off. Not anymore. My free time is limited and as such, I can't afford to focus on something folks don't like. Reviews keep me writing in these times, and keep the daily updates flowing. Silence...silence only hurts. I hate having to beg for feedback, but without it...well, it feels like I'm not making an impact.
So...in the immortal words of Atlas...
...Review...Would Ya Kindly? And of course, Enjoy the previews. Potential ones...
Previews are -mostly!- the same this time. Didn't want to spoil the upcoming chapters.
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!
SPOILERS LAY AHEAD!
YE BE WARNED~!
(PREVIEWS)
Time for a story! Because sometimes people need reminding of things...
One would think you'd learned by now.
What can I say? Nathaniel granted him an insouciant grin. I've always been a slow learner.
Slow? This boy? He was sharper than valyrian steel and thrice as deadly. "What did I tell you about lying to me?
"To not to." The boy, no, he was a young man now, grinned. "You and Tyrion are more alike than you think. He's smart as a tack, that one. You should
his face closed down. "Leave us."
Then you'll spend time with him?
I will consider what you've said.
That sounds like a rather fancy way of saying now.
Tywin sighed. Out with you."
His heir sauntered out with a shrug.
And see to it that "he" is fed!
Nathaniel waved halfheartedly.
Honestly that boy...
As he looked on she swung her arms around, clasped both hands behind her back, and swayed in place. Her shoulder swung to and fro unapologetically, and her bosom with them.
He studiously averted his eyes.
She grinned. Gotcha.
Harrenhal.
Why did he have a bad feeling about this?
Lyanna tutted softly. "You foolish lion."
"This from the wolf who thumped three squires?" She thumped him over the head and he laughed. "Ow, ow! Hit me all you like, I regret nothing!"
Joanna sighed. "My dear, sweet boy. What did you do...?"
He laughed and fell into a chair. "What was necessary. You should've seen the look on his face, mum...
Bloody tourneys. He hated them. Still, this was a sight better than jousting. He'd take what he could get in the melee.
Prince Rhaegar was...not as he expected. At least he seemed saner than his father. For now.
"May you fight well." the prince settled into a stance.
...same to you."
"Seven hells!" Robert guffawed. "How are you still standing after a blow like that! You must have a skull like iron!"
Naruto reeled on his feet. "Something like that...
"Gods, this calls for a feast!" He slung an arm around his shoulders. "To our new friendship! Don't sulk over there, Ned! You're coming too!"
He could feel HER staring holes in him as they japed.
Rober elbowed him, winking as he did. "The she-wolf's looking at you again, lad. Give 'er a kiss."
Naruto thumped him over the head. "You kiss her!"
"Me?! The Baratheon only laughed harder. "Not a chance! I'll not come between a wolf and her prey. Besides, I've got my eye on another...
EDIT: Hey, you made it! I do hope this chapter lived up to your expectations. By all means, feel free to let me know what you think!
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Hope you have a great day!
R ~! =D