#notice how Aegon is not the only older brother dealing with their little brother’s enemies to lovers

[jaegonsmoon]

Luke ranting to Jace for the fourth time that week: It’s always “I can fix him” this and “He would fix me” that. Well I can make him worse, how about that?! There’s no one he hates more on this earth than me, I’m the person he has the strongest feelings for!

Jace: For the 100th time, this is not the flex you think it is. Bro, he wants to end you.

Luke: Yeah… but he wants me.

Jace: Hell yes, he wants you… fucking dead!

Luke:… A win is a win—

[kckt88]

Take My Breath Away XI.

Summary:

Vaeryna confesses her secret to an unlikely person, Cregan Stark arrives at the Red Keep and a betrothal is made.

Warning(s): Time Skip, Language, Confession, Anger, Hurt, Deceit.

Word Count: 5434

GREENS WIN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

A.N - 14 YEARS LATER!!

A.N - I USED SHORT HAIR DAEMON FOR AEGON III FACE CLAIM.

Tag List - @a-beaverhausen, @ammo23, @immyowndefender,

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“We cannot keep stalling mother, Cregan arrives within the month” whispered Daenerys.

“I-I know, but your father-“ replied Vaeryna.

“-Will be angry, but mother he loves you surely he’ll understand,” said Daenerys.

“I just don’t know Dany” muttered Vaeryna.

“It’ll be ok mother” urged Daenerys.

Since the birth of Daenerys, Vaeryna had slowly began to make plans with Jeyne and Cregan on how best to bring her brother back into the fold.

It had taken fourteen years for this plan to come to fruition, she had made numerous visits with Daenerys and Rhaegar to the Vale over the years under the pretence of visiting Jeyne, but really it was too slowly introduce Daenerys and Aegon, in the hopes the two of them would get along.

Jaehaera had once told her that Daenerys was Aegon’s way home, and a marriage between the two was the obvious solution and the fact that he’d unknowingly lived in the North for years and not caused an uprising.

However, there was of course Aegon and Aemond to deal with. As the only living son to Rhaenyra and Daemon her little brother was a threat to the King’s reign and the fact that she colluded with Cregan and Jeyne for almost seventeen years was bound to anger Aemond.

It had taken forever to convince Aemond to consider a potential betrothal between Cregan’s alleged son 'Aaron' and Daenerys.

Aegon of course, was all for it. He saw the marriage as a way to bring the North back into the fold as Cregan had remained staunch in his support of Rhaenyra and had politely declined all invites to Kings Landing since the war had ended.

But 'Aaron' wasn’t Cregan’s son, he was really Aegon and Vaeryna knew if this was going to work then she would need both Aegon and Aemond on her side. But it was working up the courage to tell them which was proving difficult.

Which was why she found herself hiding in the bushes in the gardens, quite ridiculous really considering she was a woman grown. But it just seemed like the perfect place to get away from the rigors of duty and gather ones thoughts.

Apparently, someone else had the same idea, as a shadow loomed over her.

“I noticed someone stole my hiding spot” said Aegon smirking.

“There’s room for two” replied Vaeryna as she shuffled to the side.

“So, what has my twat of brother done now?” asked Aegon as he sat down.

“What makes you think he’s at fault?”.

“What other reason would there be for you hiding in the bushes” mused Aegon.

“I’m hiding because there’s something I need to tell Aemond and he’s not going to very happy when he finds out” replied Vaeryna.

“Your not with child again, are you? I mean it’s not like he can be angry about that considering how regularly he deposits his seed-“

“-No, I’m not with child again” said Vaeryna quietly.

“Then what is it?” asked Aegon.

Never in Vaeryna’s life did she ever think that she would become close to Aegon of all people, but over the years a friendship of sorts had blossomed between them and they would often spend time talking with one another, of course, Aemond didn’t initially like the idea that his wife was spending time with his older brother, and he would get insanely jealous and sulk for hours on end until Vaeryna put every effort into making sure her husband cheered his miserable face up.

“I-Its Aegon” muttered Vaeryna.

“You do realise I’m sat right here”.

“Not you. My brother Aegon” said Vaeryna.

“What about him?”.

“H-He’s alive” whispered Vaeryna looking around cautiously.

“He died in the Gullet” said Aegon furrowing his brow.

“No, he didn’t. We just let everyone think he did” replied Vaeryna.

“Wait, so your brother didn’t actually die?”.

“No, he’s alive. We faked his death” said Vaeryna.

“We?” asked Aegon.

“My mother sent a letter to the Vale asking for my help, but I arrived at the Gullet too late, most of the Velaryon fleet had been destroyed and the survivors from the Triarchy had moved on, I found Vermax and Stormcloud dead on one of the island outcrops, Aegon was there with Jace” said Vaeryna.

“Y-You were there?” exclaimed Aegon.

“Yes, I was. I managed to get Jace and Aegon back to Dragonstone, but Jace later died in my arms” said Vaeryna sadly.

“H-How did he-“

“Shot by arrows, one hit near his heart and he survived long enough t-to m-make it h-home’” sobbed Vaeryna her breath hitching in her throat.

Aegon wrapped an arm around Vaeryna’s shoulders and pulled her close to him.

“What happened after that?” asked Aegon quietly.

“My father initially came up with the idea to fake Aegon’s death, he figured that it would be safer for him. It was only supposed to be temporary until-“

“-The Blacks won the war” said Aegon firmly as Vaeryna nodded.

“I took Aegon back to the Vale with me and we were told to stay there-“

“-So that’s why you never joined the war, I always wondered why. I mean if Vhagar was our biggest, then the Cannibal was your mothers-you were protecting your brother” said Aegon.

“Yes, but then both my father and mother died, and we were stuck in the Vale, with everyone else believing Aegon was dead, and I was the last”.

“Is that why you agreed to marry my brother?” asked Aegon.

“Yes, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I couldn’t risk you coming to the Vale and discovering that my brother was alive, because let’s face it you would have come for me eventually” replied Vaeryna.

“I-Is Aegon still in the Vale?”.

“No. He’s in the North with Cregan Stark” mumbled Vaeryna.

“Isn’t he coming here with his son 'Aaron' to-“ said Aegon the realisation dawning on his face.

“-Yes” nodded Vaeryna.

“Stark doesn’t have a son called 'Aaron', does he?  Because the boy is really Aegon, and your planning to marry Daenerys to her uncle”.

“That was the idea. He’s been in the North for almost seventeen years, he’s no threat to you or your reign” said Vaeryna.

“It doesn’t matter, he’s still the oldest surviving son of your mother, what happens when the Lords that supported her discover that her son lives. We’ve had many years of peace, and whilst I might not be the best King, I will not subject the realm to another war”.

“So, you’re going to have him killed? My brother has committed no crime. He’s spent his childhood in the North, he doesn’t care for the throne, he just wants to come home, please Aegon. He’s all I have left. I can’t lose him” sobbed Vaeryna.

“Obviously Cregan was in on the plan to fake Aegon’s death?” stated Aegon.

“As was Jeyne Arryn” replied Vaeryna.

“My good sister, the Warden of the North and the Lady of the Vale, all guilty of conspiracy against the crown, a crime punishable by death” said Aegon sternly.

“If you desire to punish someone, then you shall punish me alone. I shall not argue, I only ask that my children and Aegon be spared” replied Vaeryna sadly.

“You would sacrifice yourself for them?”

“Yes, I would” confessed Vaeryna as she wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Aegon’s grip on her shoulder tightened and Vaeryna winced slightly, she desperately wanted to move away, but she couldn’t.

“I will not order your execution”.

“But-“ muttered Vaeryna.

“I-I love you” whispered Aegon.

“What?” gasped Vaeryna.

“Gods not in that way. Aemond would slit my throat, I love you as a sister. I was never a good husband or brother to Helaena, and it fills me with regret everyday that I did not treat her the way she deserved”.

“Oh” uttered Vaeryna.

“I never imagined we would have the friendship that we do, and I know my brother doesn’t like it-but fuck him, anyway what I’m trying to say is that I won’t hurt you or your brother, I love you too much to cause you any pain” said Aegon softly.

“Even though I committed a serious crime?” asked Vaeryna.

“Yes, plus you’ve kept Aegon hidden in the North for the last seventeen years, that’s quite an achievement. Lord Stark must really like you-probably a good idea not to mention that to Aemond though”.

“Cregan is an honourable man, he pledged himself to my mother and when she died, he pledged himself to me as did Jeyne. If you grant the marriage of Aegon to Daenerys, you will have earnt their loyalty and respect” said Vaeryna firmly.

“I’m assuming Dany is aware of 'Aaron’s' true identity?”.

“Yes of course, and Rhaegar also knows” said Vaeryna.

“Oh, seven above, Aemond is going to implode”.

“Now you know why I’m hiding here” muttered Vaeryna.

“I could tell him for you, try and soften the blow a bit” offered Aegon.

“I appreciate your offer” whispered Vaeryna as she grasped Aegon’s hand tightly.

“I mean for all his threats surely; he wouldn’t kill his own brother”.

“Why not? He killed his own nephew and uncle” replied Vaeryna.

“That doesn’t help” exclaimed Aegon.

“No, it does not, I apologize” said Vaeryna.

“Look, he needs to know and soon. Lord Stark will be here within the month, and I’ll need all the time I can get to convince Aemond and the council not to have your brother killed as soon as he steps foot inside the Red Keep” said Aegon.

“Thank you for this Aegon, I truly appreciate it” said Vaeryna as she placed a gentle kiss on Aegon’s cheek.

“If you really wanted to thank me you could always-“ suggested Aegon smirking.

“Don’t push it, besides Aemond would definitely kill you” said Vaeryna.

“Do you think he’s told him yet?” asked Rhaegar.

“You never know, father might be ok with-“ said Daenerys jumping as the door suddenly flew open and Aemond marched into the room closely followed by Aegon.

“OUT!” shouted Aemond.

“But father-“ urged Rhaegar.

“I SAID OUT” yelled Aemond.

Rhaegar and Daenerys cast their mother a concerned look as they hastily left the room.

“Don’t even think of ordering me out of here” warned Aegon sternly as he shut the door.

“Is it true-what Aegon has just told me and the council?” asked Aemond.

“Yes” replied Vaeryna quietly as she glanced at Aegon who offered a slight smile.

“Almost seventeen years and you’ve been lying to my face”.

“I-I’m sorry, please my love” said Vaeryna softly.

“NO. You do not get to call me that, not after what I’ve just been told. All of your visits to the Vale, and your sneaking around with Jeyne Arryn and Cregan fucking Stark” raged Aemond.

“It wasn’t malicious, I was protecting my brother” replied Vaeryna.

“That boy is a risk to my brothers reign, what of the Lord who supported your mother, what happens when they find out that he’s alive?”

“Nothing will happen, Aegon has promised to swear obedience in front of the Iron Throne, he does not wish incite another war. He just wants to come home” said Vaeryna firmly.

“-And you think that’s enough to assuage those loyal to your mother? They will want that boy on the throne, they will whisper and collude until some cunt gets the bright idea to see their plan to fruition” snapped Aemond.

“No, Aegon does not desire the throne”.

“It doesn’t matter what he wants, it’ll be those around him, dripping their poison in his ear until he has no choice” retorted Aemond.

“He will not rise up against the King, no matter what anyone says” said Vaeryna as she subconsciously moved closer to Aegon.

“If you believe that then you’re a fucking fool, it is not just my brother that’s at risk, it is my niece and our own children. What of Rhaegar? He is heir to the Iron Throne; he will be put to the sword” said Aemond.

“NO. STOP” shouted Vaeryna as she pressed her hands over her ears.

“What’s the matter is the truth to hard to handle, your reckless decision could cost our children their lives” snarled Aemond as he advanced on Vaeryna.

“Aemond that’s enough-“ warned Aegon.

“YOUR NOTHING BUT A LYING DECEITFUL WHORE”

“Now wait just a second, she is nothing of the sort” said Aegon firmly.

“How do I know that? She’s been sneaking around behind my back and conspiring with that northern dog, how do I know that she hasn’t been opening her legs for him too, why else would he go to such lengths”.

“Because he is kind and honourable” sobbed Vaeryna.

“Tell me Ryna, how many of my children are his? How many of them are BASTARDS?”

“None of them are his, I have never taken Cregan to bed. All of the children are yours; you only have to look at them to see the truth of it” replied Vaeryna shaking.

“You’ve been lying to me for almost seventeen years, why should I believe a single word that comes out of your lying mouth”.

“Because I am your wife” cried Vaeryna.

“No wife of mine would ever act in such a manner” snarled Aemond.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Vaeryna.

“You have lied, conspired and risked our children-“

“-No, our children are safe” retorted Vaeryna.

“As soon as your brother arrives in Kings Landing, he’s dead. I’m going to kill him myself”.

“NO” screamed Vaeryna.

“You would seriously put the life of your brother over the lives of your own children?”

“Hang on, no one said anything about killing your children your being rather dramatic there brother” said Aegon.

“YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH”

“No, I will not. I am your King, and you will show me respect” said Aegon sternly.

“I will show respect when you deserve it” snarled Aemond.

“You speak of respect when your screaming at your own wife like a damn banshee, maybe if you took your head out of your arse and actually sat and talked her then you might understand why she did this” replied Aegon.

“What’s there to understand, she lied and now I will deal with it-“

“-No please, Aemond I beg you” pleaded Vaeryna her lip wobbling.

“By order of the King you will not lay a hand on Aegon. The boy will be welcomed to the Red Keep alongside Cregan Stark and his men, the betrothal between Daenerys and Aegon will be given my blessing, and you will not interfere” said Aegon sternly.

“Daenerys is my daughter” snapped Aemond as he picked up a vase and hurled it across the room. Vaeryna jumped as the vase collided with the wall and smashed.

“You need to calm down” ordered Aegon as he placed himself in front of Vaeryna.

“No, she lied to me. I won’t have it. I will-“ balled Aemond as he began tearing the room apart in his temper.

Vaeryna clung to Aegon terrified as they wordlessly watched Aemond destroy everything he could get his hands on.

“Aemond. Stop. Please” said Vaeryna as she reached out and placed her hand on his back.

“DON��T FUCKING TOUCH ME” shouted Aemond as whirled around and pushed Vaeryna away from him and she landed on the floor with a heavy thud.

“AEMOND” yelled Aegon as he shoved his brother away from Vaeryna who was sat on the floor looking up at her husband, the tears running down her face.

Suddenly Aemond seemed to come back to himself, his face once twisted with rage was now filled with regret and concern.

“I-I’m sorry. Vaeryna. Please” exclaimed Aemond.

“Step away from her. NOW” ordered Aegon as he helped Vaeryna off the floor.

“A-Aemond” sobbed Vaeryna her hands clasped to her chest.

“I didn’t mean too, ābrazȳrys” replied Aemond as he reached out towards her. (Wife)

Vaeryna moved away from his grasp and then fled the room, ignoring Aemond and Aegon’s concerned calls.

Aegon checked Vaeryna’s usual hiding place in the gardens, but she wasn’t there.

“I-Is she there” asked Aemond frantically.

“No” replied Aegon.

“Well Cannibal hasn’t left the-AEGON WHAT THE FUCK” exclaimed Aemond as Aegon tackled him to the ground and punched him in the face.

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT” shouted Aegon.

“Aegon. Stop” gasped Aemond as he grabbed hold of Aegon and rolled him over.

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME” snarled Aegon as he writhed and struggled against his brother’s vice like grip, after a few minutes he managed to wrench himself free and he attempted to punch Aemond again.

“Enough” said Aemond as he attempted to apprehend Aegon once more, but his brother was as slippery as an eel and every attempt Aemond made to subdue him was consistently thwarted.

Eventually the scraping brothers were pulled apart by the Kings Guard.

“You are confined to your chambers until further notice, and I suggest you clean up the mess you made” ordered Aegon as he dusted himself off.

“Brother-“

“-Don’t bother, Ser Colton escort my brother back to his chambers and make sure he stays there until I say otherwise” snarled Aegon as he turned on his heel and stormed away from the gardens.

“Yes, Your Grace” said Ser Colton bowing slightly.

Aemond glared at the Kings Guard but acquiesced and went to his chambers. Now that had calmed down somewhat, he surveyed the damage and cringed.

He’d let his anger get the better of him and worst of all Vaeryna had witnessed it.

Some of the things he’d thrown around the room in his temper were salvageable, but some weren’t, no doubt he would get an ear full off his mother when she found out what had happened, but he couldn’t think about that right now.

After he’d made a decent attempt at cleaning up the mess he made, Aemond sat in front of the fire and thought about Vaeryna and the lie she told. It angered him beyond belief, that she could keep something like that from him, but on some level, he understood why she hadn’t told him.

Especially when his first idea was to kill her brother. Aegon was right he should have sat and listened to Vaeryna instead of kicking off and now she had disappeared, and he was confined to their chambers.

A soft knock on the door broke Aemond out of his reverie, at first, he thought it was his mother coming to scold him for his behaviour but when the door opened her was confronted with the eldest of his daughters.

“Dany” exclaimed Aemond.

“Mother is in a meeting with Aegon and the council” replied Daenerys softly.

“Where was she before that?” asked Aemond.

“With my brothers and sisters,” said Daenerys.

“I should be with your mother in that council meeting”.

“Yes, you should be, but she’s not alone. Rhaegar is with her” muttered Daenerys.

“Good” said Aemond.

“You definitely could have handled that better”.

“I let my anger get the better of me, she lied to me Dany, for the entirety of our marriage, her decision could have placed you and your siblings at risk” explained Aemond.

“If mother had told you from the very beginning, what would you have done?”

“Even though my brother had reclaimed the Iron Throne after the war, his reign was still on shaky ground and the boy would have been a risk” said Aemond honestly.

“So, he would have been killed, and you wonder why mother lied. He’s the only family she had left, Baela and Rhaena don’t bother with her. Imagine how lost and alone she must have felt,” said Daenerys.

“Dany I-“.

“I understand why your angry, but what if the roles were reversed, and all your family had been killed and it was just you and one of your siblings left, how far would you go to ensure their safety?” exclaimed Daenerys.

“So, I just forgive her for lying to me?” asked Aemond.

“I’m asking you to understand the situation she was in, I know all about mother’s first husband and what happened to him-“

“S-She told you?” gasped Aemond.

“You know how close we all are to mother; she is our entire world” replied Daenerys.

“Yes, I know, she’s a good mother to you all” said Aemond smiling slightly.

“Now Imagine how she must have been feeling, of course she was going to do whatever it takes to keep her little brother safe, she even sold herself to the man who killed her own brother and father,” said Daenerys.

“I-I love your mother very much” whispered Aemond as a lone tear trickled down his cheek.

“She loves you too, but mother sacrificed everything for Aegon” replied Daenerys quietly.

“I’ve ruined everything haven’t I” muttered Aemond sadly as he wrenched off his eyepatch.

“All is not lost. You both need time to process what’s happened and then maybe you can talk and try to sort this out”.

“When did my daughter get so grown up?” asked Aemond.

“It happens to us all father” whispered Daenerys as she wrapped her arms around her father and hugged him tightly.

“I love you Issa dōna tala” replied Aemond as he held his daughter close (My sweet daughter)

“Avy jorrāelan tolī kepa” whispered Daenerys (I love you too father).

It had taken almost a month for the council to stop foaming at the mouth and agree to let Aegon the Younger return to the Red Keep.

Some Lords were of the same opinion as Aemond whereas the others were weary of having the boy executed. Even after all these years there were still supporters of Rhaenyra that existed and having her only son beheaded may cause an uprising.

The loyalty of the North was also a contributing factor to the councils acceptance of Aegon, he wasn’t the biological son of Cregan Stark, but he was raised as such and with the North finally back in the fold, the Vale would soon follow.

Of course, they were insistent that Aegon publicly bend the knee and then he would be kept under close supervision for the entirety of his time in the Red Keep.

Which of course Vaeryna agreed to, but she was insistent that even though he was considered a man grown, Aegon would be placed under her care.

Eventually the day arrived for Cregan Stark and Aegon to arrive and the Red Keep was a buzz with activity, the King insisted on having a great feast and everyone was busy making the preparations.

Rhaegar had insisted that he take Dreamfyre to meet Cregan and his men on the Kings Road and escort them to Kings Landing.

Vaeryna was helping Daenerys get ready and the rest of the children were with their father and Aegon.

“Must I wear this” moaned Jaehaeryn.

“Yes” replied Aemond sternly as his youngest daughter Caelee settled herself on his knee.

“But it itches though”.

“Boy cease your whining; this is an important day for us all and you will wear what we tell you too” snapped Aemond firmly.

“Yes father” muttered Jaehaeryn sulking.

“What’s wrong with my father?” asked Vharla.

“Like he said this is an important day and you all need to be on your best behaviour” urged Jaehaera smiling as she finished twisting Vharla’s wild silver hair into a braid.

“Were not the ones complaining” whispered Aerys.

“Oh, shut up” quipped Jaehaeryn.

“No, you shut up” snarked Aerys sticking his tongue out at his older brother.

“Both of you shush up” said Saeryna as she hoisted herself up on Aegon’s knee.

“Where mama?” Caelee as she rubbed her face on Aemond’s shoulder.

“She’s with Dany, remember I said that your sister is meeting the boy she will marry”.

“O-Our uncle?” asked Caelee.

“Yes, mama’s little brother Aegon” replied Aemond quietly.

“But we already have an uncle Aegon” said Aerys cocking his head to the side.

“I know it’s confusing but-“

“-Obviously I’m the best one” said Aegon loudly.

“You’re the King” said Saeryna.

“Indeed, I am little one” replied Aegon.

“Rhaegar will be King one day” said Jaehaeryn.

“I-If Rhaegar is King then that means uncle Aegon is dead, I don’t want him to die” said Saeryna sadly, her little eyes filling with tears.

“Don’t worry kid, I don’t plan on dying anytime soon” exclaimed Aegon.

“Y-You promise” whispered Saeryna.

“I promise” said Aegon as he hugged his niece tightly.

For all the stupid decisions he'd made, Aegon was quite close to all his nieces and nephews. Saeryna in particular was very fond of her uncle and she would often be found trailing after him asking a million questions or simply wanting him to read stories to her.

In his mind, he couldn't change the past, but he could learn from it, especially with his daughter Jaehaera.

Suddenly the roar of a dragon shook the walls of the Red Keep.

“Dreamfyre’s back” cooed Caelee.

“Right, that means it’s time for us to take our places in the throne room and remember children you need to be on your best behaviour or else” threated Aemond as he stood up with Caelee still clinging to him.

“Come on little Princess, it’s time to go to see your grandmother” whispered Ellen gently.

“No-No I want to stay with daddy” cried Caelee.

“Remember sweet girl, you and Saeryna are going to stay with grandma for a little bit” urged Aemond as he passed his struggling daughter to the nanny.

“But uncle Aegon-“ whined Saeryna.

“Best do as your father says, otherwise he’ll get grumpy, and you know we don’t like a grumpy daddy” mocked Aegon.

“He’s already grumpy-mother won’t let him kiss her” said Jaehaeryn.

“Boy one more word-“ warned Aemond.

“He’s right though, surprised you haven’t sprouted cobwebs down there, how long has it been brother?” whispered Aegon smirking.

“Keep talking and I’ll slap that smirk straight off your face” snapped Aemond.

“Daddy stop being a bully” urged Saeryna.

“Yeah daddy. Stop” mocked Aegon.

Aemond took a deep breath and closed his eye, today was not the day to be trying his patience but his moron of a brother seemed determined to rile him up.

“Right Saeryna, go with Ellen and Caelee. Be good for your grandma” said Aemond sternly.

“I will as long as she doesn’t start talking about the history of the seven, it’s boring” replied Saeryna as she took the nanny’s hand and left the room.

“That girl, honestly” muttered Aemond.

“She’s an absolute diamond, and of course my favourite one of your many children” said Aegon smiling as he smoothed down his robes and put the conquerors crown on his head.

“Right, let’s get this over and done with” muttered Aemond.

“Remember, if you act decent today. Your wife might let you back in her bed”.

“Do not talk that way in front of my children” snapped Aemond.

“Oh, come on brother, you’ve been so frustrated of late, you need to get your end away”.

“Aegon” warned Aemond as he ushered Jaehaeryn, Vharla and Aerys out of the room.

“Must you tease him?” asked Jaehaera as she took her father’s arm.

“Oh, my sweet daughter it’s the best part of my day, surely you cannot deny me the chance to have a little fun” replied Aegon smiling.

Everyone in the throne room waited with bated breath for the arrival of Cregan Stark and Aegon.

Vaeryna fiddled nervously with the rings on her fingers as she stood silently next to Aemond.

Admittedly in Aemond’s mind it was nice to be stood next to his wife, since their argument a month ago they had barely spoke, Vaeryna hadn’t even returned to their shared chambers, she had taken to staying in one of the guest rooms, which upset Aemond more than he wanted to admit, as he couldn’t sleep properly without his wife next to him.

They had remained polite in front of their children at mealtimes but it broke Aemond’s heart when Vaeryna would turn away from him and leave him to return to his chambers alone.

Today was important and Aemond was determined to make things right with his wife.

The doors to the throne room opened.

“Lord Cregan Stark, Warden of the North and Prince Aegon Targaryen”.

Cregan walked into the throne room flanked by his men, Aegon trailed behind his face obscured by his grey hooded cloak.

Vaeryna suddenly took hold of Aemond’s hand and squeezed it gently, and in a show of silent support he squeezed back.

“Jaehaeryn, stop fidgeting” whispered Vaeryna softly.

“But mother, I’m too hot and it itches” replied Jaehaeryn.

“Boy, listen to your mother” warned Aemond.

“-But father” moaned Jaehaeryn.

“Brother that’s enough” snapped Rhaegar.

“Welcome Lord Stark, I trust your journey from the North wasn’t too perilous?”

“No, Your Grace it was fine and thank you for inviting us to Kings landing” replied Cregan his deep voice echoing around the throne room.

Vaeryna was nervous as her brother stepped forward and there was an audible gasp when Aegon removed his hood.

His short roughly shorn silver hair tumbled over his forehead, and even though there was slight narrowing to his face, he was the exact mirror image of his father Daemon.

The Rogue Prince come again.

His piercing amethyst eyes never left the King as he lowered himself to one knee.

“I Aegon the Younger of House Targaryen, recognise and pledge my loyalty to you, Aegon of House Targaryen the second of his name, King of the andals, rhoynar and the first men, Lord of the seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm” said Aegon loudly as he bowed his head.

 The King pursed his lips for a moment before he levered himself off the Iron Throne and walked slowly down the steps.

Aemond kept hold of Vaeryna’s hand as she moved forward slightly.

“Don’t” whispered Aemond his eye never leaving the King.

Vaeryna watched anxiously as the King approached her brother.

“Rise” said Aegon sternly.

Aegon the Younger slowly stood up and was stunned when the King offered his hand.

“I accept your pledge of loyalty and welcome you to Kings Landing”.

“Thank you. Your Grace” replied Aegon as he shook the Kings hand.

“Do not make me regret this.

“You won’t, I can promise you that Your Grace” replied Aegon.

The members of the court who had been stood in silence, began to applaud.

Vaeryna let out the breath she didn’t realise she was holding when her little brother looked at her and smiled.

“Sister”

“Brother” exclaimed Vaeryna as she let go of Aemond’s hand and ran towards her brother engulfing him in a tight hug.

“I missed you so much” exclaimed Aegon as he buried his face in Vaeryna’s silver hair.

“-And I’ve missed you” replied Vaeryna.

“I cannot thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me” said Aegon.

“Your my little brother, I would do anything for you”.

“Daenerys” gasped Aegon his eyes alight with wonder and awe as he caught sight of his betrothed.

“Hello Aegon-” whispered Daenerys shyly.

“-Brother, this is Aemond” said Vaeryna.

Aegon visibly blanched a little at the mention of Aemond’s name and he stood rooted to the spot as his gaze caught sight of Dark Sister resting in the holster on Aemond’s hip.

“Pleasure to me you Prince Aemond” said Aegon politely bowing his head.

“Aegon” said Aemond nodding his head sharply.

Vaeryna and turned to face Cregan who was deep in conversation with the King.

“Lord Stark” said Vaeryna politely.

“Princess” replied Cregan smiling as he wrapped Vaeryna in a one-armed hug, ignoring Aemond’s noise of protest in the background.

“Thank you for everything” whispered Vaeryna.

“Your welcome” said Cregan.

“Oh where are my manners, obviously you know Rhaegar and Dany, but these are my sons Jaehaeryn and Aerys-“

“-Pleasure to meet you both” said Cregan nodding his head.

“-And this is my daughter Vharla, you’ll meet my other daughters Saeryna and Caelee later at the feast” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“-Beautiful, just like your mother”.

“Hello My Lord” said Vharla politely.

“I would also like to introduce my husband, Prince Aemond”.

“Prince Aemond-” muttered Cregan flatly.

“-Lord Stark” replied Aemond through gritted teeth.

“Right, now that introductions have been made, I think it’s time I made an announcement” said Aegon firmly as he retook his seat on the Iron Throne.

The lively chatter in the throne room quickly quietened down in anticipation of the Kings announcement.

“Today has been a great for welcoming back a brother and making new allies, discussions are currently underway with Lord Stark to further solidify the North’s relationship with the crown and to further unite House Targaryen, it is my pleasure to give my blessing for a marriage between my niece Princess Daenerys and my nephew Aegon the Younger”.

The throne room erupted into thunderous applause as Aegon bowed to Daenerys and presented her with a courtship gift, a brooch emblazoned with the Targaryen sigil.

Vaeryna smiled as she recognised the brooch that once belonged to their mother.

After almost seventeen years, she had kept her promise to her mother. Aegon was safe and he was home.

[navree]

How do you picture yourself Aegon's reaction to the God's Eye events? Asking for 2 reasons: 1) being genuinely interested in your vision, 2) wanting some pain

I think his primary reaction, at least at first, would just be pure shock. I genuinely think that Aemond's death came as this huge unexpected surprise to his family, because who actually expected him to die. He's an incredibly puissant warrior, he's a capable enough battlefield commander AND administrator as Aemond's regent, and he rides the largest and fiercest dragon in the world, not to mention he was fighting a much older opponent seemingly past his prime. I don't think anyone was expecting God's Eye to be his last stand, not when they thought they knew what the odds are and when they knew what kind of person and fighter Aemond was (I think the only people who went into God's Eye knowing it was the last showdown were Daemon, Alys, and Aemond according to Ewan's whole "yeah he's got an idea of when and where and how he's gonna die" thing which is fucking me up). And then suddenly, he's dead. He's just gone, and I think the first thing Aegon's going to feel is just genuine disbelief that it could have ever happened, like just total and utter surprise. And then the rest of the emotions are going to hit, and I think Aegon's going to be incredibly upset. Aegon had already suffered loss by this point, Criston and Otto are both dead and most notably so are both of his sons, which we know he felt grief over, not to mention that he's still in a lot of physical pain (timeline wise, I think God's Eye happens after the Fall of Dragonstone, which would see Aegon and Sunfyre gruesomely re-injured in the process, which would ultimately kill Sunfyre). But this is his baby brother, someone he's known his entire life, someone he took the crown for in order to protect him, and he's dead. And he's probably going to be grateful, because Aemond took out an enemy and vital fighter for the other side in the process by killing Daemon, but he's still dead. Because of Aegon. Even if Aegon wouldn't show, I'd imagine the grief to be incredibly profound (having family members die Because Of You is always going to be something that fucks people up, why do y'all think I want a Louis Philippe miniseries so badly) and that he had a really hard time dealing with it internally.

I also imagine that it would have a noticeable effect on him, due to timing. Aemond's death is also the first of the rest of Aegon's siblings, and they all happen in very close succession. Helaena dies very soon afterwards in a gruesome suicide, and then Daeron is killed in Second Tumbleton, also not painlessly according to stories told about it. I think Aemond's death was the start of a tipping point that made Aegon decide that he was going to be his worst self for however long this fight continued, that first step towards a darker path that would then lead to the somewhat fucked up nature of Rhaenyra's death. Because his little brother is dead, the first of his siblings to die but certainly not the last, and it's all tipping over into Too Damn Much for him to take. I think the grief was very intense, but very private, and it soon gave way to dragon's rage. Like, when Jaehaerys is killed, I do believe that Aegon's reaction was probably explosive (I've written about it but I also do imagine there were times when he was just throwing shit, and I firmly believe in the idea of him giving Aemond a beatdown that Aemond refuses to fight against that'll dissolve into abject weeping, given who Aegon is and also because I want to die), especially since the source material makes note of the fact that he "drank, and raged, and drank" or something to that effect. And with Criston and Otto and Maelor, he probably pushed down whatever he was feeling in order to concentrate on healing and on getting Sunfyre and on the war effort and on capturing Dragonstone. Aemond was probably the first death that he was able to feel since Jaehaerys, and I really think he felt it. Lots of private crying, probably a solitary prayer said for Aemond, for his soul and his peace, in the Dragonstone sept. Aegon felt his grief, and while he felt it alone, he felt it all the same and felt it keenly.

(also, for the girlies, depending on how far the rumors of their relationship at Harrenhal spread and how much info Aegon was getting, and the fact that Alys was visibly pregnant at God's Eye and Aemond publicly claimed her as his and his physical affection with her was one of his last acts, Aegon knows that Aemond had someone to come back to, a lover and a child, and he didn't, because he was fighting for Aegon. For Aegon's rights and Aegon's security. Think about that.)

[dreadwulf]

Love is a Burning Thing

(part 1) (part 2)

He is riding away from her. Farther and farther away.

Jaime is riding at the head of his battalion across the Crownlands. Glory trots along quite amiably, at pace with hundreds of other horses around him. Without his needing to move a muscle, at every moment Brienne is farther away. He can feel the distance stretching between them like she is still holding onto him somehow and pulling with all her might, ever since she had left him this morning.

It hurts. Like a steadily increasing stomachache, only it’s some other organ down there in his gut. If there is a structure in the body that secretes devotion like eyes spill tears, it is surely there, somewhere in his belly, and it is contracting violently, whispering at him to turn around and go back. But his gut is perpetually wrong, and cannot be trusted. This is exactly what he wants, to be getting away from Brienne as fast as he can. If it hurts, well, Jaime is quite accustomed to being hurt by the things he wants.

They ride for King’s Landing, and the ache simmers inside him like a low fire. But there is enough else to occupy his mind, and surely it will fade into the background, unimportant, beside the urgency of a Targaryen invasion.

His squire is watching him worriedly from his palfrey nearby, and Jaime straightens under the young man’s scrutiny. Smiles back at him until his squire grins cautiously back, and spurs his horse to ride over to the flanks. There, that’s more like it. Lord Lannister is no lovesick boy pining after some maiden. He made a foolish mistake, but fortunately it has cost him little. A few days away from his post, some chagrin before his men, and this wretched ache in his gut. That is nothing he can’t recover from.

His squire is riding, he notes, much more smoothly than he did when last they rode the Kingsroad, leaving the capital. He has grown tremendously in these months. Just as he had told Brienne, he will have to knight him sometime soon, Peck. Else some other knight will do it, and deny him the honor. He has been a good squire, and Jaime will regret losing him. 

Does he hope for it? Jaime wonders. At his age I thirsted for battle, and if there are truly Targaryens on the march there will be some promise of glory. If he knights him today, Peck will have to fight for his King. He will probably have to fight either way, but as a squire he will keep to the periphery, and a knight will be expected to charge on horseback, into the thick of the fighting. But Peck has not shown any remarkable talent at swordplay, not as Jaime had when Ser Arthur Dayne had knighted him. Not that, not yet. Let him squire a little bit longer.

His eyes drift to the wagon where the sons of the Riverlands are riding, where until this morning Podrick Peck had sat chattering and playing at dice with the other boys. What will he do with the hostages when they ride to battle? They could squire for his men. But if he loses any of them in battle, he will lose the cooperation of their parents as well.

I think Peck was sorry to see young Podrick go, Jaime thinks. His squire had taken the smaller boy under his wing, and the younger Payne had looked up to him with the kind of hero worship reserved by young boys for older, not-quite-grown boys. Peck enjoyed that attention, clearly. Podrick had a starry-eyed eagerness that his squire would be just outgrowing. An innocence. 

Jaime had spoken with the child as well, the night they had caught him sneaking into the camp. A scared and reticent boy to begin with, with a fearful glaze and a pronounced stammer that made one wonder if he had lost his wits. But with only a little encouragement, he had turned into a fair chatterbox. He had been startled to learn that the boy had squired for his brother Tyrion during the battle of the Blackwater; it had been he that saved his life, though not his nose. Timid he may be, but the young squire does not lack for bravery. It seems he had left King’s Landing looking for Tyrion, and followed the Maid of Tarth in hopes that her quest would lead him there. His brother had been good to him, Podrick said. 

As not many people have been, I’ll wager. Cast-off of a cast-off of House Payne, small for his age, and guileless as a newborn. 

Jaime had offered the boy a berth in his army. He could squire for Jaime’s cousin Addam Marbrand, or at least apprentice to someone in his camp, earn his keep. He would not be a hostage like the Riverlands’ noble sons, but he could still run about and play with them, as he seems to enjoy doing. I suspect the boy has not done much of that either, he notes.

Pod refused his offer, however. He said, with some hesitation, that he hopes Lord Tyrion is well, and thanks Ser Jamie for the kind offer, but he would rather stay with Lady Brienne, wherever she will be. He has a fair cavalcade of praise for the lady, which Jaime endures without comment. All in all, he seems a good lad. Loyal. From what little he saw, they are quite tightly bonded, the boy and his lady knight.

He ought to feel better knowing that. If he was to be sacrificed for another, at least the other was a good-hearted and clearly beloved child. It could have been Lem Lemoncloak. 

It does not make him feel any better.

He had gritted his teeth to look upon the boy, to be honest. Can one be jealous of a child? But Podrick very obviously had his lady’s love, and Jaime does not.

He has only just learned how much the wench meant to him, and how comparatively little he had meant to her in return. For her, at a moment’s notice, he had thrown over his family, his house, his responsibilities, to follow her into the Riverlands on the flimsiest of excuses, all because he thought she needed his help. It had been startlingly easy to do it, and as he walked away from his life he had felt lighter and merrier with every step.

What a fool he had been. As it turns out, she would not do the same for him - no, he was no more than a hostage himself, intended to free the companions she valued more. This boy, and that Hunt fellow, a hedge knight of some sort, who awaited them at the Dread Lady’s Gallows. Brienne had risked a great deal to come and find him, but the risk had not been for his sake. 

But no matter. She is gone now and he will not see her again. He will return to his life and go about forgetting her. That should make these feelings stop. It will have to end sometime, the crawling betrayal, the creeping shame, the sharp sting of rejection, and that time will come much sooner without the constant reminder of her presence. With time he will stop thinking of her, and it will be like he had never met that stubborn, ugly beast of a woman.

This is not making him feel any better either. Cheer up, he tells himself, tomorrow you may die. 

The Targaryen pretender has already taken Storm’s End in a rout. This “Aegon” has a band of supporters and a hired troop of mercenaries, the Golden Company, and at last word was riding out to face Mace Tyrell and the Crown forces. Of course it isn’t Aegon Targaryen - Jaime knows all too well the babe was slaughtered, skull crushed against the wall by his father’s creature The Mountain - but he looks the part, with the Targaryen hair and eyes. Perhaps he is some unknown cousin, some lost branch of the Targaryen family tree using Aegon’s name. Should Westeros be nostalgic for the relative peace of Targaryen rule, they might find the young man very persuasive.

He turns the details over and again in his mind. The Golden Company, a fearful force, and Targaryen banners stirring the populace to rebellion. They could be marching into a battle they cannot hope to win. Impossible to tell from the increasingly vehement missives he has received from the Queen Regent. She commands him to victory, but does she truly expect it? As has been amply demonstrated to him recently, he cannot expect even his closest allies to place much value on his safety. After all, what does anyone care if the Kingslayer should die?

My sweet sister would summon me regardless. She has shown that often enough. As coin she would spend me on a hopeless trial by combat merely to flaunt her purse. No doubt my beheading at the gates of King’s Landing would be just as gloriously pointless. 

Though Cersei, it seems, wants him only to return to her side directly, to serve as her personal bodyguard. She is grown obsessed with some prophecy that the children will all be murdered and her choked to death at Tyrion’s hands. Hearing that Tyrion himself is approaching the city has sent her into a kind of frenzy. Her last letter was nearly incomprehensible, raving. 

Yes, that had been the last bit of news the Spider had passed along, with the rest of his whispers: his own brother Tyrion rides with Aegon, and advises the Targaryen pretender how best to defeat their House in battle. That was the lowest blow, and it had knocked his usual confidence right out of him. Jaime does not fear battle, but he dreads this confrontation.

If one side wins, his sister and son are dethroned and probably executed. If the other side wins, he will have to kill his brother. Jaime loses either way.

He should not worry about defeat. The Crown forces are superior, the Lannister army vast and well-provisioned, and King’s Landing is by design a difficult city to take. But his brother is fearsomely clever, and he was Hand. He defended King’s Landing against Stannis Baratheon, and a man who knows how to hold the city will know how to take it. If he does, he will have his revenge for a lifetime of slights. He knows Tyrion holds it against him still, the lie he had told him about Tysha. After all the years they had been beloved brothers, after Jaime had set him free and saved his life, his little brother saw fit not only to murder their father but to conspire with their enemies to contest Cersei directly for the throne. He does not expect Tyrion will pull any punches now for old time’s sake. Not when they will face each other across a battlefield.

If there is anyone left who has not yet stuck a knife in my heart, they are running out of time to do it. 

He mulls over such thoughts feverishly as the dimming winter sun lowers in the sky. For a time he considers pressing the Lannister troops onward into the night to reach King’s Landing. It will be only a few hours march from here, and their summons have been increasingly urgent. Still, he would rather rest his men so that they can arrive fresh to the fighting and not exhausted from the road, and he commands them to set camp.

“Milord,” a lieutenant interrupts him tentatively as he unhorses, “we have Thoros of Myr bound in your tent as you requested, awaiting interrogation.”

Jaime smiles thinly. They have captured Beric Dondarrion’s Red Priest, who had somehow turned Catelyn Stark into the apparition who had lead the Brotherhood without Banners to capture him. Somehow during the conflagration with the Brotherhood he had run away and vanished into the trees. But Jaime’s scouts found him in the night, Thoros, stoking a meagre fire near Maidenpool. There was no time to deal with him in the morning, so they bundled him up and brought him along on the march - though they gave him no horse, and forced him to walk along tied to one of the wagons, thinking it would make him more cooperative. 

The Lord Commander’s tent is first to rise, and resplendent before ever he sets eyes on it, not that he notices. He leaves Peck to unsaddle his horse and enters it in full uniform. He will get through this interrogation before undressing and taking his supper.

He sits in the armchair they have carried across the Riverlands for him, and accepts a glass of sherry. The muddy priest is bound on the floor before his desk, and at his command his bonds are loosened, and he is allowed to sit in a wooden chair before his desk. Jaime observes all of this as he finishes the first glass of sherry, and requests another.

Once a huge man, both tall and fat, Thoros of Myr is now considerably diminished. His red robes are cavernous around him, his skin hanging loosely off his skeleton in great folds. Formerly a fierce swordsman, the fire that he once brandished by burning swords has seemingly gone out. The old Thoros could wear this one like a cloak. 

Even before Jaime can begin to question him, the Red Priest is firing questions back. First among them, “What have you done with the girl?”

“Which girl?” he stalls, disconcerted. 

“The maiden with your blade.” He may be physically smaller but his eyes are bright and sharp, and he holds Jaime’s gaze without flinching. The priest explains patiently, “the tall young woman with the king’s seal, she who brought you to the Brotherhood. I saw you strike her down. Where is she now?”

Jaime ignores this questioning; it is none of the man’s concern. Instead he asks him of his escape from the ambush that night, which quiets him a bit. He could have fought them, could have produced a flaming sword and defended his Lady Stoneheart, but instead he had fled. Thoros does not seem to be interested in explaining why, averting his eyes and answering  him shortly with “yes” and “no”.

He questions the Red Priest about Catelyn Stark, about Berric Dondarrion, about remaining members of the brotherhood and the commonfolk who supported them. Still Thoros turns the conversation back and back again to Brienne.

“But what of the Maid of Tarth? I saw her nowhere in your formation, amongst prisoners or soldiers.” He pokes and prods, Thoros, and his brow furrows with concern. “It has not gone unnoticed that she is gone. Some here have it that you have done away with her.”

His patience at an end, Jaime snaps back, “And what if I have?”

Thoros puts on a perplexed expression, blinking at him curiously. “That cannot be. Surely even you are not so cruel as that.”

“Surely I am, ask anyone in the Seven Kingdoms.” Thoroughly tired of judgement, he decides to go along with the Red Priest’s poor opinion of him, if it will loosen his tongue. “The wench lured me to my barely-averted death. I am well within my rights to punish traitors such as she.”

“Brienne of Tarth never betrayed you for a moment.” The Red Priest is disturbed, shaking his head sadly. “That poor, brave girl. She defended you to a crowd baying for your blood, said that you were a changed man, that you were not responsible for your reported crimes. We called her your whore. But you never touched her, did you? Wouldn’t trouble yourself with someone so pure of heart, when you have your sister the Queen in your bed.”

Ah, so Thoros still has a sense of humor after all. Jaime snorts. “So pure of heart she would lead me to my death, while calling me friend. How is that not a betrayal?”

“She was forced to it. Our dread lady commanded her to kill you and she refused. The entire Brotherhood demanded it and she refused. We offered her a choice, the sword or the noose.”

“And she choose the sword to save her own skin.” Jaime swallows from the glass. “I understand it, of course. It is a hard lesson for one such as her. No one is pure.”

“No!” Thoros smacks the palm of his hand against the commander’s table, and Jaime cannot help flinching. “She chose the noose. Brienne said she would not betray you and they put a rope around her neck and hung her, hung her choking and kicking from a tree. She would have died there without relenting but for Podrick Payne, the boy.”

No. No, it isn’t true, he tells himself. But it tracks with what the boy had told him. She did it for me, my lord, you have to understand… He had assumed the choice had been a simple one. Podrick or Kingslayer. But had there been another choice as well? Hadn’t he seen the angry red marks around her neck, or decided not to see?

“They hung him from the tree next to her, and when she saw him dying, she called for a sword. Not before. Not for herself. She would have died for you.”

“Lies.” Jaime has gone very still. Only the muscles of his hand flex, where he holds tightly onto the drinking glass. “The Brotherhood’s Red Priest. Why should I believe anything you say?”

The priest raises his hands, palms beckoning to the air. “What reason have I to lie about this? What benefit to me? I care no more for factions or grudges. I have seen war render this land a hell beyond anything my lord R’hllor or any the Seven could dream up. So far as I care whoever is left standing at its end is welcome to its rotten fruit. All that matters is that in the ruins of honor and justice I met a maid who embodied both, and now she is dead. That, my lord, is a calamity, and I would have you know just how great of one.”

He hardens his heart. “In this world you are either faithless or dead. She is both, and soon enough we will be too. It’s no calamity.”

“You utter fool.” The Red Priest has the nerve to look sorry for him. “Let me tell you: when we found that girl she was dying of fever, battered and broken by brigands, and all she would do is talk about Jaime Lannister. She said your name in her sleep. She said she had to find your honor. She pleaded for you to come for her when she was next to dead. Not her companions, or her kin. Only you. No sword could have been more loyal to you, and no woman more true to anyone.  

Jaime’s guts are churning now, his heart clenching painfully enough to turn him inside-out. What a stupid organ, the heart. If he could, he would carve it out himself. 

It makes him snap back at Thoros tightly, “Gold will buy loyalty as reliably, and a woman too.”

“Not like her, not to you. You are only too cynical or too stupid to see it. That girl loved you. She loved you.”

The glass in Jaime’s left hand abruptly shatters.

Thoros jerks back, more at the noise of it than anything else, and stares down wide-eyed at the Lord Commander’s desk. His hand had squeezed and squeezed the glass until it finally popped, in a small explosion of shards and blood. Now his hand opens and stretches, and the Lord Commander examines it curiously. A few jagged bits of glass stick out of his palm and fingers. It hardly hurts at all, but it produces an impressive amount of blood.

Lannister guards burst into the tent at the sound of breaking glass, and the sight of blood makes them draw their swords. Jaime waves them back. “My golden hand holds drinking glasses not so well as I’d hoped. Stay at your post.”

“My lord…” Thoros, distinctly alarmed at his lack of reaction, darts his eyes between the bleeding hand and Jaime’s impassive face. “Your hand…”

“It’s nothing.” For a second he moves to pluck the glass bits out of his hand, but his other hand is made of gold. Not much good for that. He can only poke at the bloody shards with a strange fascination. His guards watch warily, not leaving but keeping their distance. 

“You know I am a healer. Allow me.” 

He shouldn’t allow it, and his guards are visibly appalled, but Jaime makes no move to stop him when Thoros kneels at his side. He moves aside the golden hand, taking his flesh hand and extracting shards of glass with careful attention.

“I can’t imagine why,” the priest murmurs, “but Brienne thought very highly of you. I owe her some kindness, for what we did to her. If she is gone, you will have to do.”

Then it comes again; the pain. Worse than ever. Jaime bows his face to the floor at the weight of it.

“I let her go,” he manages to say, hoarsely. “I gave her the sword and I let her go. Her and the boy.”

“Truly?” Thoros looks up at him dumbfounded, uncertain whether this could be another of his jests.

But of course he let her go. What else could he do? He couldn’t keep her prisoner forever.

He sees it now, too late. Brienne in the cell, wasting away. The tears she had shed when he denied her Oathkeeper. How she had hesitated so inexplicably when he allowed her to leave. The way she had looked on him, as though she would accept any punishment he would give her. He had thought it was her simple goodness that made her contrite. But it could have been more. It could be true; somehow, she had loved him. 

When he could not bring himself to harm her, he thought it his own weakness that stayed his hand. Perhaps they share the same weakness.

He jumps up from his chair with that thought, snatching his one working hand back from the damned Red Priest and sweeping out of his commander’s tent. He strides rapidly to the stables and grabs the bridle of the first horse he sees. Honor, not yet unsaddled from their ride. 

Jaime rides hard against the twilight, back down the trail they’d come. Back to the place where he’d left her. It was a day’s ride back as an encampment, but a single man riding as fast as his horse is able made the distance in a few hours.

She won’t be there. She could have gone in any direction with a day’s advance. But if she stopped there. If she stayed to rest, and to think out her next move. If she waited there. If she waited for me. 

He urges Honor to run faster at the thought.

The Riverlands rush by headlong and the pounding hooves drive every thought from his head until he is pure instinct, animal-simple: find her.

The clearing is empty when he arrives, and quiet. 

Jaime slings down from his horse looking around him wildly. It’s dark. There’s no sign of anything. No fire, no trail, no sign she had been there at all except that he knows this is where he had left her. He knows that in his bones. He will never be able to forget this place. 

He walks aimlessly in one direction and then another. Which way would she have gone? East is Maidenpool, closest of anything, where she might find Tully allies. Riverrun in the other direction, a farther walk but where she might potentially find a ship, go back to Tarth. Or would she have headed singlemindedly North, towards the Vale, without even stopping to supply herself?

He takes not much time to decide. He thinks Maidenpool, then North. Climbing back onto Honor he rides East, alert for any campfires or single riders,scouring the forest hour after hour, and shouting out her name until his voice is nearly gone. 

He reaches Maidenpool with the dawn and sees no sign of her there. 

In a haze of desperation he accosts passers-by, one after another. Have you seen a maid pass this way, with a sword and a young boy? Riding a chestnut horse?

They all say no. They step back from him like he has gone mad; but of course it sounds a bit mad, doesn’t it? A lady knight with a Valyrian steel sword, as big as The Hound, with her own squire. While he’s at it, he should ask after Galladon of Morne, and mermaids, and the Crone with her lantern. But perhaps it is the stench of a cursed man they respond to, a man who has held riches and lost them. Such ill fortune is catching. They give him a wide berth, they murmur, they leave him standing in the street lost and alone. Perhaps they do not know a Kingslayer when they see one, but anyone can spot a man laid low by love.

Have you seen a woman, an absurdly large woman? With the bluest eyes you’re ever seen? A woman with a sword - a broadsword, two-handed? Looks like she knows how to swing it? Have you seen her? Big and strong as an ox but pure as a maiden? Straw-blonde, a hand taller than me, shoulders as broad as a barn. Has no one seen her? A knight? A true knight? The truest knight that ever walked this land? Tell me where she’s gone. Please, tell me if you’ve seen her. I saw her and I sent her away. She loved me, and I let her go.

******************************************************

The sun is marking mid-morning by the time he returns, and there are dark clouds looming in the distance, swirling up from the horizon.

He has hardly left the saddle before he is accosted by a barrage of debriefs and dreadful news. 

King’s Landing is burning. Aegon’s forces arrived faster than anyone predicted, are thoroughly breaking Mace Tyrell’s formation, and their secondary forces sneaking up the bay have set Flea Bottom afire. The Goldcloaks have surrendered already, and the Red Keep will soon be under siege. Even if they ride full-tilt for the capital it will be a rescue mission now, not a defense.

“Ready us to ride directly to battle in an hour,” he instructs his captains. “Leave the camp set here, and I set my cousin Addam in command. Peck, you and your lady Pia will stay behind with the hostages and the provisions. If we face defeat see that they are returned to their homes - quickly as you can, the Kingsroad will be dragon territory before long.”

His squire’s face turns quite red and he looks ready to argue with him, and Jaime quickly turns his back to him. He hears the lad sputtering behind him as he throws the tent flap aside and goes into his Commander’s Tent. 

Jaime sits alone in his tent for that hour and he burns. He feels the flames of wildfire in King’s Landing, hears the screeching laughter of Aerys Targaryen getting his fiery baptism at last. His most sacred oath is to guard his King, and his King is in mortal danger and he is not there. He left Tommen unprotected. Left his sister, his son, his duty. His doom awaits him there, is waiting for him still. He must go.

All around him his men are making ready for battle. He knows, with a dreadful foresight, that it is not a battle they can win. It will be glorious, and at the end of it he will be dead and he will never see Brienne again.

Brienne. Brienne. His heart blazes in his chest. 

He should have kept her with him. He should have let her tell her tale. His stupid pride would not allow it and now she is gone.

Where is she now? Sheltering in some rain-soaked forest? Hiding in some Tully supporter’s house in Pennytree? Could she have seen him foolishly asking after her, and held her tongue?

He has been cruel to her. He has let her suffer. He denied her Oathkeeper. He had been badly wounded, his pride wounded, his poor sore heart wounded, and he had wanted to hurt her too. When he saw her tears some sleeping part of him wanted to take it back.  He felt monstrous for doing it, and told himself it was because he was a monster. He had stood there and watched her with her shoulders hunched and fists balled at her sides, tears running down her face. What might she have done if he had tried to soothe her tears? He could have been kinder.

Now she will remember him as bitter and petty and hateful when he is gone, and there will be no one left in the world who thinks on him fondly. 

But at least she will not see this battle; at least he gave her Oathkeeper to keep herself safe. She will have to think on him when she wields the sword, and perhaps she will remember whatever it was that had made her care for him. Perhaps she will know, when she holds the blade, that he had loved her too.

Mother, let her know it for certain. Give her my love.

When the hour is up, he leaves his tent, mounts Glory, and rides to battle. 

[khaleesi-in-the-north]

In the Crosshairs (22/?)

@lenxlvthor Without Ygritte, Margaerys doubts she could have made it a day. Neither of them have any money, any clothes or any food. Since her face has been all over the news, she couldn’t have tried to barter with anyone anyway. Ygritte is left knicking food from unwatched carts and sneaking into stores to steal clothing appropriate for Dorne’s steaming climate. Shortly after they make it out of the city they abandon the stolen car for an abandoned one left on the side of the road. They find a stash of gold dragons hidden under the seat.  

To contribute to their journey, Margaery does most of the driving. Rather than take the Rose Road through Highgarden, Margaery takes backroads which lead through woodlands and up to the mountains. There’s fewer stopping points, which means fewer chances of being recognized by a Lannister sympathizer or a well-meaning citizen.                  

  The quiet hours when Ygritte was asleep gave Margaery time to think. She doesn’t want to waste any more time on Alayne, so she focuses her thoughts on Cersei and the Courier. Jorah hasn’t published her first article yet. She has to find a way to convince him to publish it. The Lannisters must be working on something consequential to be so desperate to keep it under wraps. Even if they don’t, Cersei deserves to be on the run just like Margaery is.                     Renly’s death can’t have been for nothing. He gave his life working on this story. She can’t let their work remain stuffed away on Jorah’s desk when it’s Renly’s lasting legacy.                 

  Just across the mountainous border into Dorne, Ygritte suggests they stop at a B&B.

                    Four days of sleeping in a cramped car make it difficult to deny the logic in Ygritte’s idea. A hot shower, a bed. Internet connection. A way to contact Jorah. She can convince him to publish. Finishing the road to Dorne may not even be necessary. 

                    Another hour stuck in the car with Ygritte could be her breaking point anyway. At the apartment when Margaery grew tired of Ygritte’s constant joking or when Ygritte became frustrated with Margaery’s need to be in control, they could escape to their rooms until tensions cooled down. On the road, there was no way to avoid each other. They’d already come to blows once after Ygritte made a comment on her driving after they’d been going non-stop for 7 hours.

                     The argument had turned onto Jon and Alayne. How each other should have known they were being played, how Margaery needed to stop taking her frustrations out on Ygritte and how Ygritte needed to stop shoving down her emotions with childish behavior.           

          They find a little place called Haven’s Paradise just north of the Dornish Marshes. They advertised wi-fi, a jacuzzi, and feather bed mattresses. Soft, plush, cloud light feather-beds.    

                “Should we try to disguise ourselves?” As far south as they are, they are still in enemy territory. Even here Cersei could have friends. Maybe Sansa would too.

                     “With what? Cheap make up?” Ygritte’s tone has grown more bite. She’s nearing the end of her fuse as well.        

            “They could recognize us. Gods why didn’t I think if this before?” She presses her head against the top of the steering wheel.

                     “We’ll do what we’ve been doing. I’ll go in, ask for rooms, poke around a bit. If they recognize me, we go on. If not, we stay the night.”              

      She squints at Ygritte. “When did you become the logical one?”                  

  Ygritte pats her hand. “When I decided to take a nap while you drove for 14 hours.”

                    She turns on the radio while Ygritte  goes in. Margaery had quit listening once they reached Storm’s End. She couldn’t take the vitriol these so called radio hosts spewed toward her brother. They didn’t know. They didn’t know him. They hardly knew Renly. It was either turn off the garbage or drive through the wall of a radio station and set them straight.          

          Loras’s lawyers proclaimed his innocence. Her father promised justice for Renly and Loras. The last she had heard of Alayne she was going north with a search party. She doubts that’s true.  

                  In the Dornish mountains the radio signal was terrible. The only station she could connect to was a hip hop station. She let it play.                     Ygritte returns with a thumbs up sign. Margaery shuts off the car and grabs a plastic bag to shove their necessities into. Ygritte opens the door on the other side and grabs a handful of dragons.     

                “The woman is so old she still thinks there’s still a King. Her little assistant is dumb as rocks. He’s probably never seen a news broadcast in his life.”

                    The lobby is cozy. Simple. Smaller than it had looks from the outside. There’s a desk with the old woman Ygritte described sitting behind it. A couple of chairs across sit across from a small fire place. Leather ones with footstools. The wooden floor looked scratched from years of use, but in overall good shape. Small windows lined the far wall. There is a little desk in the far corner upon which sat an oversized computer possibly older than Margaery.     

                Ygritte drops the coins on the desk. The woman gives her a toothy grin and slides a pair of keys across the desk. “First room on the right, Sandra.” She doesn’t spare a glance for Margaery.             

        There are two full sized beds in the spacious room, a bed stand between them. Pale pink curtains are drawn, lighting the room in a reddish hue from the setting sun. Margaery puts the bag on the ground, kicks off her shoes, and collapses on to the nearest bed. Within a matter of minutes, she’s asleep.                     The room is dark when she wakes up. She fumbles around on the ground until she finds her purse. She takes out her phone. It’s nearly 3 a.m. The only sound is Ygritte’s slow, heavy breaths.        

             She finds a hair tie in her bag and wrangles her hair into a loose bun then gets up and quietly shuts the door behind her.              

      She goes back to the lobby, now lit with a dim lamp rather than the overhead light. A boy, whom she can only assume is the old woman’s assistant, sits at the desk with his head cradled in his arms, asleep. He’s slightly on the husky side with a lightly tanned complexion, his eyes a little too far apart from each other.

                     Noticing the computer requires a password, she returns to the front. Her fingers tap the desk rhythmically. The boy’s head shoots up. He looks confused and panicked, which quickly turns into embarrassed as he settles down and notices Margaery smiling politely at him. “Hello there. Is the computer available to all guests?”  

                  He blinks at her. “Uh, yeah, Yeah!” He scrambles around, moving pens and binders around until he finds a small square post-it note. He hands it to her. “Just type that in and you’re good to go.”        

            She smiles and thanks him. The computer is as ancient as Margaery suspected. It takes forever for the desktop to load. When she clicks on the internet icon, a dial-up sound starts. 

                  “The mountains block out any modern connection. It’s a bummer when you need wi-fi for video games,” says the boy. 

                  “I can imagine,” she replies succinctly.  

                  Apparently that was the wrong thing to do. The boy comes closer. “What are you doing up so late for anyway?” 

                  She turns and flashes him another smile. The blush returns to his face. “I’ll tell you why, if you tell me why you’re manning the desk at such a late hour.”   

                “Ole Nan insists on 24-hour care. Running a double shift is easier when there’s no one to deal with.”    

                The screen finally loads. She types in a Dothraki tabloid website. Hopefully that will satisfy the boy’s curiosity for what she’s doing.                     “My friend and I are on a cross-country road trip. Checking the sites from the Reach out to Dragonstone. Site seeing. I drove all day. As you can tell, my sleeping hours suffered for that decision.”               

    He asks her about all the famous sites of the Reach. The statue of Garth Greenhand, the pools of Highgarden, the Agricultural museum. All of which Margaery had visited numerous times as a child. As she speaks, he goes back to whatever work he needed to do. As long as she talks, he’s content. She uses the distraction to create an anonymous email. 

                    “Do you believe the stories? That dragons used to live on Dragonstone?” he comes back.        

            Margaery laughs. “It’s a fun tale to spook children. Perhaps thousands of years ago during the time of Aegon the Conqueror, if ever.”

                    He shrugs and goes back to work. “If there were, I would bet they were huge. Larger than planes.” 

                  She types quickly. An anonymous plea to Jorah to “publish what you’re holding on to”. He’ll know it’s her. She sends it and logs out, erasing her history. 

                    “It’s been lovely meeting you…” she offers him her hand.               

      He juggles the papers in his hand back and forth before setting them down and shaking hers. “Hot Pie.”       

            “Hot Pie?”      

              “It‘s a nickname. I helped my mum with the bakery before Ole Nan hired me. All the customers said I made the best pies in the country. My real name’s Lewys” His voice fills with pride.    

                She smirks. “As a pie connoisseur, I’ve had the pleasure of tasting many pies in my time.”

                    “Mine are better than all of them. I swear it.”   

                  “A bold statement,” she stretches and yawns, making a show of her fatigue. “I must be off to bed. Long drive in the morning.”       

            Hot Pie averts his eyes from her, obviously trying not to stare at anything too long. “Have a nice sleep then, Miss.”    

                She waves as she walks back.         

            Her case is pled, and still she feels uncertain. Perhaps months ago she could have sacrificed the story. She would have found another angle, another way to prove what Cersei was. There was no going back now. This was Renly’s legacy. She had to honor it. She owed that much to Loras. To Renly.                 

    If he refuses… she’ll find a way around him. This is greater than Jorah and the Courier.  

                  When she drifts back to sleep, dreams fill her head. Not dreams, memories. Laughing with Renly and Loras. Seeing him take photos on the job. Introducing him to the first girlfriend of Margaery had ever brought home in King’s Landing.   

                They shift to memories of a warm sunlit bed, of softly kissing a pale, freckled chest and of lazy fingers drawing patterns on her thigh. Early morning conversations of nothing in particular and giggles at lame jokes. Bright blue eyes smiling down at her and soft whispers of endearments in her ear. No truer than a dream.            

        She wakes up with a long stretch and rolls over. Despite the unbidden vision, she’d slept better than she had in nearly two weeks. Morning sunlight turns the room a shade of pink again. The shower is running, telling her Ygritte is only starting her morning routine.                    

Margaery ruffles her curls. She changes into fresher clothes and wanders down the hall, finding the bathroom not reserved for single rooms. After she finishes in there, she comes back she finds the kitchen. It’s small, slightly bigger than a closet. It’s not quite a continental breakfast, but there’s boxes of cereal sitting out. She goes to the fridge to get the milk. On the stove beside the fridge sits a pie pan with a lid covering it. On top of the lid is a sticky note.          

          “To the brown-haired woman in 02. Told you my pies are the best- Hot Pie”

                    Margaery snorts. She decides to forgo though cereal and grabs a paper plate and plastic fork from the small stack of them on top of the fridge. She cuts herself a hearty portion of the pie and takes it back with her into the lobby. She takes one of the chairs. Hot Pie has been replaced by a tall, quiet black man with buzzed white hair. He smiles briefly at her before returning to his work.      

              She has to contain a moan of delight after taking the first bite, earning her a queer look from the man at the desk. It’s apple, her favorite. Hot Pie wasn’t shy adding cinnamon, which Margaery would never complain about. She can find hints of nutmeg and vanilla. Hot Pie hadn’t been boasting of his talents. If anything, he undersold them.   

                As she digs into the second bite, Ygritte pops up from around the corner. Her hair is still damp from her shower. “Pie for breakfast Marge? I’ve truly lost you to the dark side.”    

                She glares at her for using her real name rather than the fake one they came up with. She looks back to the desk. He’s watching them with mild interest.

                    “My pie. Go get your own deskman to make you one.”                   

  Ygritte grins and sits down in the other chair. “How did you seduce this poor lad into baking you a pie?”   

                  Margaery takes another bite and licks her lips. “I did this crazy thing called being a nice person. And what do you know, he did something nice back.”     

              “Hide your secret then. I’ll just mooch off their benefits,” Ygritte goes into the kitchen and returns with a slice of pie as well. She takes a bite and, unlike Margaery, makes no effort to hide her pleasure. “Gods be good this is the greatest thing I’ve ever tasted. I’m going to live here forever. I could live off this for the rest of my life.” She takes another bite. “Mmmm, I would marry this man for a slice of his pies.”     

              Margaery laughs, still very much aware of the man at the desk. He looks over every thirty seconds or so before turning back to his work. A queasy feeling rises in her gut. She appetite for the rest of her pie. She offers the rest to Ygritte and excuses herself to take a shower.

                     She lets the steaming water run over her until it turns lukewarm before stepping out and drying off. She wraps one of the complimentary robes around herself and brushes her teeth, thankful that Ygritte had brought the necessary toiletries in with her during her shower.     

              She opens the bathroom door and jumps backward, nearly slipping on the wet floor. The desk man stands in front of the beds, staring at her. She opens her mouth to scream. He holds up a sheet of paper. Don’t scream. The Lannisters are coming.             

      It’s enough to give her pause.      

              “You should be glad not everyone here is as daft as the old woman and Lewys,” he rumbles.           

        Margaery takes a cautious step forward. “What do you want?”                    

“It’s not what I want. Cersei Lannister has arranged for several of her business assistants to stay here this evening. She is staying at the Dhaxos.”                    

The last Margaery had heard, Cersei was heading North. She had not anticipated directly confronting Cersei. Although Myrcella lived in Dorne, Cersei had never visited the southern-most region of the country. The visit couldn’t be for her daughter’s sake.  

                  “You know who I am.”    

                “You have to be blind or an idiot to not know who you are. Or Lewys. Lucky girl that you were to land here.”   

                  “And you’ve yet to call the cops.” Otherwise he would not have told her of Cersei.   

                “We need not involve the police, Ms. Tyrell. We know well the grip the Lannisters have on our esteemed peace keepers.” He sits down on the bed, looking at home.     

              Margaery slowly approaches the opposite bed. “If you’re not here to turn me in to the police, and have no interest of helping the Lannisters, who are you?”  

                  Her mind latches onto the idea he could work for the Starks. Return the lost prize.          

          He laughs deeply. “My employer has taken an interest in you.”                

    “Your employer?” He couldn’t possibly be speaking of the old woman.            

        “Yes. He knows much about you Ms. Tyrell. What you’ve done. He’s made arrangements for you.” He drops his voice, taking a more serious tone. “Leave. Pack your things and go. Don’t stop until you reach Sandstone.” He hands her one of the sheets of paper. She flips it over. And address is scribbled on the back. “Go here.”          

          She knows people. Lies and motives come naturally to her. After Alayne she wasn’t sure she could trust her instincts. He was helping her. She can’t piece together why. If he was one of Sansa’s men, surely he would have tried to contact a Stark by now. That much he had not lied about. “Who is he?”              

       The man smiles. “The Red Viper.”