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Chapter Text

It was a beautiful evening. The sunset cast a divine glow over the horizon, causing a parade of sunshine to dance over the mountain peaks. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before, almost too beautiful to be real. Unfortunately for Lyanna Stark, all she felt now when she looked out at the Red Mountains was resentment with a side of morning sickness. It had been several moons since Rhaegar told her the truth of what happened. She would have lost track of time if it weren’t for the unavoidable reminder growing inside her. Brandon and Father were dead, both executed by the Mad King. If she hadn’t run away with Rhaegar, Brandon wouldn’t have ridden to the Red Keep demanding his head. He wouldn’t have broken his neck trying to save their father from a fight he was doomed to lose. This whole bloody war would’ve been avoided if she just ignored her Silver Prince and his damned harp. If she hadn’t let him delude her into falling for his twisted dream. Rhaegar had been blinded by his obsession with prophecies, he could not see the consequences of their actions. Lyanna had seen plenty now and she worried there were plenty more to come. 

It had been weeks since a raven delivered more news. Dark wings, dark words, that’s what her father had always said. If only it wasn’t so. First her family, then her prince. Killed by the Usurper in battle. Her betrothed tore the realm apart for her, but she wanted none of it. Not him, not the Stormlands, not the bastards that he’d fathered, nor the ones Lyanna knew he would go on to father when she inevitably began to bore him. Lyanna had enough men around her throughout her life to understand that sometimes it was simply their nature. If only she’d seen that with her prince. His sweet song had disarmed her of her senses. He further disarmed them when he found her after the tourney, helping her hurry out of that armor. When her honor guard discovered the two of them he wasted no time in dispatching them. At the time she hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on it, believing he had done it to protect her honor and reputation. Now she understood he killed them to protect himself, to keep his plans secret. She never needed someone to protect her, not from the men who were so loyal to her father. No, it was the sight of finding the crown prince with a Lady of Stark, particularly one who was not fully dressed and ready to elope with him. How many people died and would die because she believed his words? Believed he would protect her and honor her? Marry her? That he loved her? That stabbing pang of regret she felt in her heart refused to leave her. 

“Come with me.” Those few words were all it took for the wild young maiden to abandon her home and her family in the name of love. What she believed was love. If only she knew then what she understood now. Foolishness. That’s all Harrenhal was. A stupid young girl, just shy of her six and tenth nameday, infatuated with the crown prince who named her his Queen of Love and Beauty. The prince who promised he’d take her as his wife. Their ceremony a year later had been a disappointment, to put it gently. The septon Rhaegar had consulted for an annulment refused on account of the two healthy children his wife had given him, he even went as far as to condemn both Rhaegar and Lyanna. It forced them to flee even sooner for fear of being discovered and captured. So much for being wed in the eyes of gods and men. Promises were a funny thing. Lyanna thought they all sounded so empty now. She once promised Brandon she’d never sneak out with one of their horses again ‘if he would just take her to tour the Wall’. He always managed to catch up to her, every time. What she’d give to race him once more.

Her hand slid down to cradle her belly and shame burnt at her cheeks and ears. What would her father have said if he saw her like this? What would Ned say when she finally reunited with him? If she would even be so lucky. She knew how Rhaegar’s first wife had struggled in the birthing bed. How it nearly cost her life to deliver each of her children. Would the same fate befall her? Between the war and her inexperience with giving birth, Lyanna felt as though her life had possibly been forfeit without her realizing it. Her arm tensed around her belly as she felt a kick. Her fierce little Visenya, Rhaegar had said, telling her to be brave. “You will give us the dragon’s third head, my wolf queen. Be brave.” His words echoed in her mind. They tasted bitter now, like a slow venom finally poisoning its victim. He spoke more and more of the prophecy as their time in the Red Mountains went on. He dwelled on horrific dreams and more often than not Lyanna caught him waking up teary-eyed in a cold sweat. Whatever nightmares plagued him had been grim enough for Rhaegar to throw the realm into chaos. She struggled to understand his song of ice and fire, but she knew he believed his children would be the Conquerors reborn and that one day they would unite the realm. Against what… Lyanna could only imagine.   

“My lady.” The glum voice broke through her thoughts and startled her, causing her to whip around defensively with a hand wrapped over her belly. The brooding violet eyes of Ser Arthur Dayne stared back at her. “I mean you no harm.” he said calmly, holding up both his hands in an innocent gesture. Her lips curled back in animosity as she shot him an unforgiving glare. He knew very well that Lyanna was miserable here, and that she held him and his sworn brothers responsible for her continued misery. They kept her trapped in that horrible tower under constant watch after Ser Hightower arrived to send Rhaegar off to die. When news of Rhaegar’s fate at the Battle of the Trident finally arrived, Lyanna once again found herself pleading to return home as she battled an overwhelming grief. It was a request that was swiftly refused, leading to a frenzied altercation in which Lyanna attempted to attack the three men with nothing but a kitchen knife. She became intent on rescuing herself even if it meant having to cut and slash her way through each and every white cloak. Ser Arthur disappeared shortly after for what felt like an eternity. She last heard him having a heated argument with Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell after the knights temporarily confined her to her chambers. For her own safety, they had said. When they finally let her out Arthur was already gone. At the time she hadn’t considered he’d gone anywhere other than King’s Landing, but the woman standing next to him confirmed Lyanna’s more recent suspicions. He’d gone to his family’s ancestral home of Starfall and he brought his sister back with him.

“It brings me great joy to see you unharmed, Lady Lyanna.” The Starfall heiress spoke in a gentle, lilting manner. It was almost relaxing. The Dornishwoman’s features were so striking that even Lyanna had to look away for fear of embarrassment. The siblings’ sharp purple gazes reminded her too much of Rhaegar’s deep violet, even if they weren’t the same shade.

“Lady Ashara… I take it the Martells have learned where I am then?” the She-Wolf asked coolly. Lyanna’s gaze flickered between the two siblings apprehensively. Eventually she allowed it to rest on Ashara, finally letting herself look for longer than a few moments. Between her high cheekbones, her full lips, and her smooth countenance, Lyanna could only look on in admiration. Why on earth would Rhaegar be so taken with Lyanna when the most beautiful woman in Westeros was serving his wife? She’d only caught a few glimpses during her time at Harrenhal, but Lady Ashara’s beauty was captivating even then. Tragedy had found them both recently. Not long after the fighting began her and Arthur’s older brother had been found killed in battle. His death left her as the heir to Starfall, with her younger sister Allyria after her in the line of succession, though both had yet to wed. Suddenly Lyanna found herself tearing up. In Winterfell she never considered herself to be someone prone to emotional outbursts, but recent circumstances changed that and Lyanna hated it. Here she was faced with another consequence of her actions. Another death she felt responsible for. The blood of the fallen was on her hands. “Gods be good.” Ashara muttered softly, shaking her head in thinly-veiled frustration. 

Ashara’s tall frame was garbed in a beaded silk cloak dyed to match the colors of House Dayne, though her brother still dwarfed her in comparison. Her dark hair mostly was obscured by the a large hood, though a few wild ringlets of her dark hair escaped from the sides. It was then that the She-Wolf noticed the white raven poking its head out from the hood. How Lady Dayne came into possession of a pale raven was beyond Lyanna. From what she knew about white ravens, they were only used to announce the changing of the seasons. She’d never met anyone who kept one as a pet before, let alone seen one with her own eyes. Its beady stare lingered on her and left her discomforted. The sharp contrast between Ashara’s clothes, the strange bird, and the few tufts of dark hair peeking out only made her sparkling violet eyes appear even more bright. The memory of Rhaegar’s stare echoed back in her mind and her eyes suddenly dropped to the floor as another rush of shame and grief came over her.

“No my lady, you are safe. I give you my word. There was a time when I loved the prince like a brother. After we learned of his death we came to the conclusion that you and your child are no longer safe here. It is only a matter of time before the king sends more men after us, if he has not already. They will not be so kind. We will be safer once we get you away from here, into Starfall.” Arthur spoke calmly, extending his hand towards her in offering. Lyanna hesitated, noting the language the knight used to describe his friend and the pensive look on his face. She took a step back towards the tower’s window. “Starfall…?” she echoed, giving the Sword of the Morning an incredulous look. She knew his bond with Rhaegar, but was that enough for her to trust him? Judging by his choice in words that bond had been shattered. It made no difference to Lyanna. He was just as guilty as Rhaegar in her eyes, both had prevented her from returning to Winterfell, to her family. “You expect me to believe I’ll be safer there? Surrounded by a house that has been loyal to the Martells since the age of Nymeria herself?” she scoffed, tossing her hands up in frustration. “Shall you fetch me another knife so we can end this? Or do you just wish to deliver me to your prince while there’s still air in my lungs? A child inside me?” she sneered, her voice turning icier by the moment. “No… I am going home to my brothers! The ones I still have left!” she hissed, feeling her cheeks begin to burn as her emotions built. Ashara began to pace nervously behind her brother, further adding to Lyanna’s unease.

“My lady… there’s something you should know.” Arthur began gentle as ever. Like he was afraid she’d shatter if he said something she didn’t like. “Another raven arrived before we learned of Rhaegar’s fate.” Oh gods. Was it Ned? Had the Mad King taken him from her too? Or sweet Benjen? She couldn’t live with herself if he’d executed the rest of her family. Suddenly Ashara’s hand shot up to the bejeweled, star-shaped brooch fastening her cape together. She unclasped it without a word and let the cape fall to the ground around her. The pale raven leapt from her shoulders and darted out the window, flying right over Lyanna’s head as it let out a cry. She couldn’t help but gasp as she turned back to the siblings, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head as she saw Ashara. The Lady of Starfall was only just beginning to show, but the small bump on her abdomen told Lyanna enough. She was with child too. 

“He found me at the tourney as well, my lady... H-he forced himself on me the first night of the feasts… after the princess left to put their daughter to bed. He had drunk so much, I- I didn’t even know if he knew who I was.” Ashara lamented in a willowy voice. She looked away from Lyanna, trembling as she recounted the memory. “Two moons passed and my blood did not come.” she continued, her voice straining as she forced the words out. Tears filled her eyes and fell onto her cheeks like liquid crystal, leaving behind a stained trail of glimmering melancholy as they streamed down her face. “The child did not survive.” she eventually managed, biting back her grief through shaky breaths as she spoke. “The prince visited Starfall twice this year. Once before you were brought here, then once more before he went to fight the Usurper. His last visit had been unexpected, but we endeavored to give him the most... appropriate reception we could muster. He knew I nearly bore him a child… He sought to rectify that.” Lyanna couldn’t hide the horror on her face as Ashara’s expression faltered. ”He cornered me, ranting about his deluded dreams and a mad prophecy. How the dragon must have three heads. He said if you fail to deliver him the dragon’s third head… I will.” 

Lyanna’s mouth hung open in shock, but the disgust and sorrow in her eyes clearly communicated her sympathies. A spare. She felt as if she was going to be sick. It was horrible enough that he would use Ashara as though she were nothing more than an extra broodmare, but that he would rape her to achieve his dreams… Her Silver Prince had so quickly turned into a sinister monster far beyond her comprehension. Consumed by his nightmares, now doomed to become one himself. “I-... I’m sorry. I- I don’t know what to say…” Lyanna eventually replied, finally tearing her gaze away from Ashara to look back at Arthur with teary eyes. His eyes betrayed his attempts to appear strong and collected. He must have been feeling just as awful, just as deceived if not moreso. It was bad enough for Rhaegar to needlessly throw away the sanctity of his marriage, even if he did truly intend on setting the princess aside so he could wed her. But his dearest friend’s sister? Was there no limit to his depravity? Defiling her had been the ultimate betrayal for Arthur.

“Say nothing my lady. Simply gather what you can fit on a horse. We leave tonight.” he instructed in a reserved tone. She could see the resentment in his face. Lyanna squeezed her eyes shut and turned towards the window, sucking in a deep breath. “As you wish, Ser Arthur.” she murmured half-heartedly. She only turned back around once the door had shut and their footsteps had retreated to the stairwell. And so the image of her sweet, romantic dragon prince went up in flames. All because of a visit from a daughter of House Dayne. The spot Rhaegar once held in her heart had slowly turned into a pit of hatred in recent months. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d have a heart at all by the time they reached Starfall.

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Exhaustion had finally begun to set in. She leaned back against the tub and let out a wobbly gasp of air. The water was scalding hot, but the maesters hoped it might encourage labor. A septa leaned in to wipe the sweat from her brow and she flinched, waving a hand away. “Enough.” she choked out breathlessly. The young woman stood back and stared at her nervously, “Your Grace…?” The queen turned to look at the septa, a bittersweet smile spreading over her face. The poor thing was frightened and she couldn’t particularly blame her. She must look as though she were dying, she certainly felt like it. The storm raging over Dragonstone did not make matters easier. “Oh sweet girl. Spare yourself of the storm, this bloody mess and… whatever beastly men the Baratheons bring to Dragonstone.” Her eyes grew heavy as she flashed a more delirious smile at the septa, “It is too late for me, my dear.”

The septa offered a stern frown and shook her head, “Rest assured I’ll not leave your side until the babe is here, Your Grace. The maesters are hurrying back now. Don’t fret, we’ll have this babe out of you before you know it.” Rhaella let out an exasperated groan, but it was unclear if it was in response to her labors or what the septa had said. A few rapid breaths escaped her and her hands clutched at her stomach like she wanted to tear it open herself. She looked ready to let out a scream, but whatever noise she made was deafened by the thunder crashing over head. The septa stared on in abject horror, clueless as to how to ease the queen’s suffering. The wind ferociously beat against the walls of the castle, sending echoes howling down its long stony hallways and spiral staircases. The storm had drenched the battlements and completely obscured any remaining soldier’s view, not to mention the mess it had made of the Targaryen fleet anchored there. Rhaella couldn’t help but let out a mournful cry as she thought of the circumstances she found herself in. Her eldest son murdered, her youngest too innocent to make sense of what’s happening. Her grandchildren likely slaughtered in the cradle along with their mother. Robert Baratheon’s forces were tearing across Westeros with Ned Stark and Jon Arryn working in tandem to destroy her entire family. All thanks to the actions of her monstrous brother and her deranged son. Viserys didn’t deserve this. Her grandchildren and their sweet mother didn’t deserve this. The baby inside her didn’t deserve this. Neither did she. It changed nothing. The queen knew every Targaryen alive and any who loved them would soon meet cruel ends if Robert Baratheon won. It appeared he would. “We’ve lost. My son… he- he has failed us.” Rhaella blubbered through sobs.

The storm crashing through Dragonstone had already caused severe damage to the castle and the island’s remaining forces. It was likely only going to get worse and there was nothing she could do but pray to the gods for mercy. Why would the Seven curse her like this? She had spent nearly her whole life trying to be a dutiful wife, a strong queen who cared for her people, and a loving mother who kept her children safe, yet she felt as though she failed on all counts. A husband who took joy in the suffering of others, especially hers, a kingdom that would not spare her or her children any love, and so many of her babies that she’d never been given the chance to hold. So many impossible labors. Viserys and Rhaegar were rare exceptions. It wouldn’t happen again. The Mother had taken so many of her babies from her and the two she had been able to keep were a rare blessing. Now her eldest was gone and she feared she would soon abandon her youngest without any say in the matter. She and her children were of fire and blood, what could the gods intend for one born amidst a sea of grief and a raging storm? She thought of Rhaegar once more, then how the Usurper struck him down. The cruel look he must have had in those angry blue eyes. Then the blue eyed beast himself was in front of her, wrapping a hand around her throat and lifting her into the air. The septa was nowhere to be seen. Rhaella struggled as he began choking the life out of her, scratching and clawing at his face. “No! NO!” she cried, barely able to get the words out as his hand closed around her windpipe. She dug her nails into his eyes, watching in disbelief as they popped like runny yolks and his blood ran down her hands. He never stopped smiling at her. Her eyes grew heavier and when she looked again he was dangling her over a cliff. She could feel the rain beating down on her skin and tried to let out a scream, but his grip around her throat was too tight. “I-” she rasped, staring at the eyeless monster with pleading eyes. His grisly voice bellowed, “I’ll cut her out of you and make you watch as she’s tossed onto the rocks, you dragon whore!”    

Her eyes shot open with a shrill scream that was so loud it cut through the worst of the thunder and echoed across the entire castle. The septa let out a fearful cry at the sudden shock, rushing over to attend to her queen. “Your Grace! Your Grace, what is it?! What’s wrong?!” the septa begged, staring at her with wide innocent eyes. A flood of attendants, guards, septas, and several maesters rushed in moments later, looking around with the same fearful expression as the septa who’d been sitting with her. The queen looked around in disbelief, hyperventilating as she took in her surroundings, “Baratheon! He- he… he’s here!” Simply speaking his name sent her into a shivering fit, with the friendly septa moving to usher her out of the tub and wrap her in a large fluffy robe. As she looked around the room at all the concerned stares she was getting, she realized it had simply been a dream. The nightmare was not yet over though. “F-forgive me…” she murmured it so quietly that the others in the room had to strain to hear. The guards stood there nervously for a moment before a maester dismissed them on the queen’s behalf, saying, “Our queen needs rest.”

At that moment Rhaella made a vow to herself. If she could just make it through this, she would do whatever was necessary to make sure her brother and the Usurper would never hurt her or their family again. The lords of Westeros could brand her a kinslayer, a traitor, or a witch for what she would do to Aerys. Anything they wanted. As long as he couldn’t hurt them anymore it wouldn’t matter. All she wanted was for her family to finally be free of that evil. It felt like a damnation, but Rhaella could not understand what she or the children had done to deserve it. She was faithful to her kingdom, to the Seven, her children, her father and his father before him, even to her brother. Especially to her brother. She had always obeyed, always listened lest he inflict even more sinister violence on her. The children certainly deserved none of it either. Their fathers’ sins were not theirs. Her father’s sins were not hers. Neither were her brother’s. She rebuked the idea of it. “Forgive me… I- I have said my prayers, I always have, I swear. I have faith. Have… have mercy on me. I beg of you.” she rasped quietly as hot tears slid down her cheeks. A familiar verse from a hymn came to mind and she sang quietly to herself, though her voice weakened with each word. The friendly septa reached over to wipe the tears from Rhaella’s face before she and several of the other ladies joined in the song as well. 

“Gentle Mother, strength of women,

help our daughters through this fray.

Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,

teach us all a kinder way…”

The septas and attendants helped Rhaella into a nightgown before bringing her to the bed. “Things will be okay, Your Grace, I swear it.” the young septa chimed in, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Rhaella offered a weak, emotionless smile in response. “You are a good one, girl. Please… tell me your name. I- I keep forgetting, forgive me. It is the milk of the poppy the maesters give me.” The septa bowed her head graciously, “My name is Tansy, Your Grace. It is an honor to serve you.” The queen let out a small laugh, which seemed to brighten everyone’s mood a bit. “Let me look at you, dear.” the queen said gently, sitting up to look at the girl. Tansy came closer, staring at her with a nervous smile. She couldn’t have been more than twenty, but she was so kind and seemed wise beyond her years. It gave her comfort. “My queen, you really should be resting. You need your strength for the baby.” she half-suggested, but Rhaella only shook her head. “Where are you from Tansy?” she asked, taking in some deep breaths as she felt her labors intensify. A pained groan escaped her and she laid back down, which caused the septas to signal the maesters over. The maesters spread her legs and she let out a sharp gasp as they began to examine her. Tansy squeezed her hand tight and replied, “I’m from Brindlewood, I was summoned by order of the king to assist Your Grace.” The girl offered a comforting smile, but it fell when Rhaella let out another cry.

“The baby is coming.” a grey old maester announced. The attendants surrounded her, bringing hot water and rags with them. “You can do this, Your Grace! Push!” Tansy encouraged her, squeezing her hand as tight as she could bear. The queen began to writhe in pain as she let out another blood-curdling scream, “NO!” Tears poured down her face as she thrashed against the bed, as if she were trying to fight the baby out of her. Several attendants began to hold her limbs down as a maester came over to dose her with milk of the poppy. Rhaella half-heartedly accepted it, letting out a pitiful whimper as she swallowed it. “D-don’t… don’t let them cut me.” she begged quietly, whispering in Tansy’s ear. Tansy’s eyes widened in shock as she looked at her queen. “Your Grace?” her voice trembled with fear as she asked. “Please…” the queen continued, squeezing the septa’s hand  back. She let out a pained gasp, but her eyes continued to grow heavy. Her vision grew blurry and her heart began to beat faster as one of the maesters reached for something that glimmered in her eyes. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Tansy shrieked, letting go of the queen’s hand and rushing over to stop him. Everyone else in the room stopped what they were doing and stared at her with confused expressions. “She said don’t cut her! You can’t!” she snarled, it was more ferocious than she seemed she could be. The maester grimaced and said, “There is nothing else we can do for her… we must save the child.” He began to approach the queen again but Tansy grabbed him, “Stop it! Get away from her!” At this point the other maesters began to grumble, but the other women in the room looked between Tansy and their queen. Rhaella tried her best to look up at them, but she felt so tired. “Ah…” she rasped, licking at her dry lips. “P-please….” she whined, limply reaching towards the nearest attendant. “Don’t….” she forced out. Her entire body trembled with shock and fear. It indicated to them that she was still alert enough to tell what was happening. Still alert enough to make the decision herself. 

The other women surrounded their queen defensively, even as the maesters began to quarrel with them, “If we do not intervene now they will both die! We can still save the child!” Tansy may have been a septa, but as she struck the blade-wielding maester across the face it became clear she was no meek servant. Either that or she was loyal to a fault. It did not matter. She was doing as the queen asked. “DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?! GET AWAY FROM HER!” she roared, shoving the old man back. He fell with a fearful cry, dropping the knife as he scrambled away. “I’m getting a guard!” he threatened as he rushed out of the room. Tansy picked up the blade and held it out threateningly at the other maesters, “Well?! Do you need me to tell you again?! GET OUT!” The maesters nervously slithered out of the room, grumbling amongst themselves as they went. Tansy bolted the door shut and barred it behind them before tossing the blade away from her. She looked rattled as she approached the other women. “Help her. Do not hurt her. If there are any guards who come, I’ll deal with it.” she commanded them. They turned to the queen once more and an attendant came over with a glass of water. She poured a bit on her hand before lightly splashing the queen’s face with it. “Wake up, Your Grace. You must try to push. Your baby needs you.” she said in a soothing voice. Rhaella stirred and her eyelids began to flutter. She was fighting so hard against the effects of the milk of the poppy. It made her feel sluggish and weak, but she could still hear them. They were right. She had to survive this for the rest of her family. Her children needed her. Abandoning them wasn’t an option. She craned her neck to look around before being offered a sip of water. “Thank you.” she uttered, nodding towards the attendant before reaching a hand out to Tansy. “All of you.”

The septa offered an innocent smile, but her cheeks were flushing. “We were only following Your Grace’s orders.” she said humbly before bowing her head. Thunder boomed all around them as her labors continued. No guards ever showed back up, but that old maester did. He pounded against the door, shouting out, “This is a crime! You’ll hang for this!” Tansy scoffed and rolled her eyes, “We’ll just see about that.” she muttered and squeezed the queen’s hand. Another wave of agony washed over her as her labors intensified and she let out a shrill cry. Lightning flashed across the sky and through the windows, and the thunder overhead threatened to deafen them all. Tansy pleaded, “Push, Your Grace! You must push!” The pain was too much and she felt so weak. “Mother, help…” Rhaella wailed. It was a cry to both the Mother Above and her own mother, who she was not eager to see again this soon. Her womb felt like it was on fire. She was sure she would burn up from the inside out. A blood-curdling, otherworldly scream from Rhaella drowned out the crashing thunder as she gave one final push. Relief flooded her senses as she finally felt the child leave her womb. Her eyes fell shut and she went limp in the bed. Outside the storm briefly calmed, the wind and thunder slowly quieting down. It was only a short respite. One that was just long enough for Rhaella to hear the wailing of a newborn. Her eyes shot open and she gasped, “My baby.” Tansy held the infant beside her, wiping off her face and hands.

“She’s beautiful, Your Grace.” the septa said with a kind smile, leaning over to place the baby in her arms. Rhaella let out a laugh that was nearly hysterical as tears streamed down her face. She held her close as she looked down at her, “My beauty… my beautiful Stormborn. Oh thank the gods. Thank the Mother Above.” She nuzzled her teary face against the baby’s before peppering her face with kisses. It was not long after that the baby began to cry again and she flashed a tired smile, causing Tansy to bring the newborn into her arms again. Rhaella watched as the septa cradled the baby. “I would’ve died without you.” she murmured. “Shhh, Your Grace. You mustn’t think that way. Everything happens as it is meant to. The gods must have a plan for you.” Rhaella let out a weak chuckle and shook her head, “Perhaps the Mother has simply decided to take pity on me this day, Tansy. Only the gods know.“ Her eyes fell shut once more, but her chest continued to rise and fall with each breath she took.

Tansy cradled the baby and began singing to her as the other attendants saw to Rhaella, who were cleaning her off and stripping her bed. They carefully ushered her into a clean nightgown before helping her back in. After the attendants ensured she was comfortable, Tansy returned with the baby. “She’s perfect, Your Grace. Perfectly healthy. What’s her name?” the septa asked curiously, looking down at the baby with admiration. “Daenerys. My Stormborn, Daenerys…” the queen murmured. She paused before looking up at Tansy, “I want to see my son… summon him and Ser Darry, please. And I want to know where my grandchildren and their mother are. I want them brought to me as soon as possible. They aren’t safe in the Keep. Not with him… can you do this for me, Tansy?”

The girl bowed her head again, “As I said, it is an honor to serve Your Grace. I will make sure the prince and Ser Darry come see you right away, but Your Grace- the storm… how will I get to King’s Landing?” Rhaella shook her head, “No. Can you read and write?” Tansy nodded eagerly and it brought a smile to the queen’s face. “Perfect. We need to send a raven.” The septa tilted her head curiously and arched a brow, “Who shall I address it to, Your Grace?” A tired smile tugged at the corner of Rhaella’s lips as she spoke, “Ser Jaime Lannister.”

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Jaime first laid eyes on Elia several years ago when her mother brought her and her brother Oberyn to Casterly Rock. She brought them hoping to secure an alliance in the form of a betrothal between the two great houses. The former Princess of Dorne had also been close friends with his own mother, so it only seemed natural at the time. It was a proposal that had been harshly refused by his father after his mother's passing. He’d never thought too hard about it, but now as the stench of burning flesh filled the Great Hall he couldn’t help but imagine. Perhaps they’d both be spared from being subjected to Aerys’s madness. He’d grown used to the burnings and the sour smell of wildfire, she hadn’t. How could she? A Princess of Sunspear, cherished her whole life and surrounded by luxury, now subjected to the whims of a Mad King. May the Gods damn Rhaegar Targaryen’s soul to the Seven Hells for shaming her and leaving her with this monster. Running off with a Stark girl, of all the women in the world… Jaime believed the prince must have lost his senses as he spared another look at the beauty who could have been his own wife instead. Or his queen. Even with the passing of Aegon’s first nameday she had yet to recover from the birth. She was still waifish and her face had grown gaunt from lack of sleep. The Red Keep was no place for her. In a better world she could’ve been his Lady of Casterly Rock and Jaime would have spared her from all of this. Even Cersei could not tempt him to shame such a beautiful, gentle creature as Lyanna tempted Rhaegar. The prince’s words echoed in his mind and a tense frown spread across his face as he thought of Rhaegar’s fate. Maybe if he’d gone with him to the Trident they could’ve returned victorious. He recalled how the prince had charged him with keeping her and their children safe and hung his head. He’d failed in that duty so far, but perhaps that could change. He would do better. 

Between his conflicting thoughts and the bloodcurdling screams echoing through the Hall, Jaime had to tear his eyes away from Elia’s trembling form and look towards the noise’s source. The latest of poor souls forced to suffer the king’s wrath, one of the queen’s former ladies-in-waiting. Whatever she’d done to deserve it had been lost on Jaime, she hadn’t even accompanied the queen to Dragonstone. He knew it didn’t really matter what crimes she was accused of anyways. The last one before her had been Lord Qarlton and Seven knows what he had done to deserve such a fate. The only real dangers to the queen or her baby were the very man Jaime was sworn to protect and Robert Baratheon. The maid let out another shrill cry from the cage she was suspended in, pleading for mercy as sickly green flames licked at her feet. “Please, Your Grace- I beg of you!” she shrieked, although it made no difference to the Mad King. He let out a gleeful cackle as he condemned the woman, “IT’S TOO LATE, I KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE!” The flames grew higher and Jaime eventually had to turn away as the woman let out her final cries. He stared up at the Mad King, who was raving wildly and cackling on the Iron Throne while he observed the woman’s final moments. Jaime’s lips curled back in disgust at the sight of the king and turned once more to Elia, who was trying her best to look calm but very obviously failing. All Jaime wanted to do was get her out of there. He understood that one wrong move from her and she could be in that cage next. Even worse, the little prince or princess. After all, it was clear to Jaime that Aerys had no qualms about hurting his own kin. He’d heard and seen what the king had done to Rhaella. How many times he’d watched the light in her eyes die, hundreds of times over and over again. How many times the king ruined the few good days she could have. Was that what was to become of Elia if Rhaegar had returned from his duel with Robert? Seeing her like that even once would have been too much for him to accept. Jaime had hoped the prince would honor his wife and treat her kindly, that he would be a fair ruler and a king worth protecting. Now it was all for naught.

As the few courtiers remaining made their way out of the Great Hall, Elia passed by with tears in her eyes. Jaime gave her a stern look and gently grabbed her arm to escort her, “Stop. Do not let him see you like that.” His tone had been so harsh that the princess looked taken aback, causing Jaime to clear his throat and bow. “Forgive me, my princess. I simply wish to ensure your safety.” He stood up straight and offered her a smile, charming as ever. They walked alongside each other towards the doors and his voice dropped to a low whisper. “If he sees weakness he will tear at it relentlessly. You must be strong… If you are at all like your brothers then I know you are sharper than this.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder before adding, “This is how you will keep your children safe.” For a moment it seemed as though the princess would balk at him for speaking so out of turn, but instead Elia simply let out a tired sigh. “Between the two of us- who do you think he would pick, hm? His good-daughter, who gave him an alliance and gave his son suitable heirs? Or his enemy’s son, who lurks around him at all times? I am no threat to the king. What can I do? My brothers would never march on King’s Landing while my children and I are safe-” the princess said, prompting Jaime to interrupt, “You’re not a threat, but your children are. You further endanger your life and theirs by refusing to realize that.” He pulled her off to the side behind a large column and looked down into her eyes, “Rhaegar is not here to keep you safe, princess. The king speaks poorly of his own son… and of you, princess. The children. He intends for Prince Viserys to sit the Throne after him, he’s already declared so.” Elia gave him a steely look as she replied, “Nothing is certain anymore, Ser Jaime. You of all people should understand that. The lion’s lost cub… perhaps stolen would be a better word for it. Your inheritance- your very life! Stolen away by the one you’re sworn to protect. His son has done the same to me. Stolen away my life. My husband stopped protecting me and our children the day he threw us away for- for a sick folly. Now you claim they steal my children’s inheritance. We have no allies but my brothers, and they cannot march alone. My children and I are trapped here, ser. What would you have me do? Forsake my children’s inheritance? Steal it back by paying them in kind?” The princess scoffed, waving a hand dismissively.

For a moment Jaime wanted to say ‘yes, exactly’ but judging by the look in her eyes he had a feeling she wouldn’t take too kindly to that. There was no guarantee that renouncing Aegon’s claim would satisfy the king anyways. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before she continued, “It seems you are trapped here too. The son of Tywin Lannister, a name I barely dare to utter in the king's presence… The resentment between your father and the king is no secret. I doubt he'll come to his aid, but if he rallied his banners for the Usurper he'd be killing his prized cub. He is made to wait in the west and hope you come out of whatever smoking ruins are left. And none of this will stop Robert Baratheon from waging war for his little Stark girl who’s probably already dead, so again I ask you- what am I to do? Since you have so many suggestions you must have some sort of plan, don’t you?” He would have laughed at the venom in the princess’s tone if she didn’t look like she was desperately hoping he’d say yes. She wasn’t wrong. She and her children were prisoners in all but name, and his position in the Kingsguard had turned into an imprisonment of its own. It also seemed highly unlikely that Lyanna would return home safely after this. As for a plan? Not quite. He stood up straight and looked down at her with an analytical gaze, almost resembling his father. She was just as sharp as her brothers, sharper even. Far more subtle though. He realized that only made her an even more dangerous enemy to have, a bigger threat to Aerys than himself. She knew this too, she would just rather have him believe otherwise. If the conversation and the events of the day had not been so grim he would have enjoyed this moment with her. "I don't disagree with you, my princess. I only wish to see you and your children survive this."

Aerys’s hollering caught their attention again and Jaime grimaced as he prepared to return to the king’s side. “I mean no disrespect. I... I am loyal, Your Grace. It is my duty to protect the- the royal line. That is all I wished to say.” he hesitated on his words as he spoke and it was clear she noticed the title he addressed her with. A sly smile tugged at the corner of her lips and she dipped her head gratefully, “Of course, Ser Jaime. Forgive me, I need to go check on the children. Rhaenys has not been sleeping well and Aegon gets fussy when I am away for too long. I worry for them.” His eyes lingered on her swaying form for a moment longer than they should’ve as she hurried out of the Great Hall. Orange silks flowed behind her as she walked, leaving her sweet perfumed scent in the air. Eventually he had to tear his eyes away and return to the king. Aerys was still perched atop his Iron Throne, ranting to that pompous spider about the woman he’d executed and her alleged crimes.

“The vile whore was scheming for Baratheon, I know it! That yellow frock was a message! HE SHALL NOT DESTROY THE DRAGON!” he seethed, his eyes bulging open wide as he raved to Varys in nothing but a ragged, soiled sleeping gown and his gaudy crown. The bald eunuch offered a meek smile and nodded sagely, “Of course, a very wise choice Your Grace. Who else could have seen through her facade but you?” Aerys grumbled something Jaime couldn’t understand, then pointed a gnarled finger at him and yelled, “LANNISTER! Come here boy. Maybe it wasn’t the Usurper…, but your father who sent the assassin to poison my dear wife! Tell me boy, has your father finally proven himself to be the traitor he is? Is he the one who sent that filth after my Rhaella? I always knew he was jealous! Clutching! Clawing! GRASPING! He resents me, he resents that Joanna was stolen from him by that little beast- now he tries to kill my queen! Is that it?!” Jaime clenched his jaw as he tried to articulate a response that didn’t result in his head being removed from his shoulders. He cast his gaze down and shook his head, “No, Your Grace, my father is loyal to the Iron Thron-” Aerys interrupted in a fit, “TO ME! TO ME YOU ROTTEN BASTARD, TO ME! SAY IT. SAY IT!” He thrashed against the throne and let out a sharp gasp as one of the blades cut through the flesh on his arm. Drops of rich crimson spilled onto the throne as the few onlookers left in the Hall stared- whether in horror or hope. “Look what you’ve DONE TO ME! My last Kingsguard, a wretched lion’s whelp! Useless excuse for a knight!” Aerys snivelled, stumbling down off the Iron Throne while he held his arm to his side. He left the Great Hall followed by the slimy Grand Maester Pycelle, who was as eager to provide his aid as he was his counsel. Jaime never cared for that one either. Several of the remaining attendants spared a glance at the Kingsguard before taking their leave. With that, Varys and Jaime were the only two left. The Lyseni eunuch gave Jaime a coy smile from across the room. "Excellent job, Kingsguard.” Varys began, taking a few steps closer to Jaime. His feathered robes dragged behind him as he walked, pulling a large train of embroidered fabric in one of his chubby hands.

When he approached he reached into one of his enormous fur-trimmed sleeves and pulled out a small letter. Notably, the seal on the letter had already been broken. Jaime let out a low growl as he noticed this, taking the letter in his hands slowly. “A little bird paid a visit to the rookery overnight. The queen sent word to you… You’re lucky I found it before Pycelle did. She was careless to think he wouldn’t have told the King of this.” he continued with the same coy smile that repulsed Jaime so much. He unfolded the letter and began to read, his eyes widening in a mix of relief and shock. Words from the queen herself. Increasingly rare, these days. A request, even rarer. She’d written asking Jaime to transport her good-daughter and grandchildren to Dragonstone. The queen defying the king’s orders? Rarest of all. Aerys had directly forbidden them from leaving the Red Keep and he was sure he’d had forbidden Rhaella from taking them. Something in her had changed the last time he’d seen her, aside from the obvious babe in her belly. The look in her eyes had an intensity he’d never seen in her before. It wasn’t like her husband’s mindless rage, it was something colder than that. A calculated fury. This time his own words echoed in his mind. ‘It is my duty to protect the royal line.’ Jaime frowned as he folded up the letter. His sworn duty had fallen solely to him. Barristan and Lewyn hadn’t been seen since the Battle of the Trident. It’d been even longer since he’d heard from Arthur, Oswell, or their Lord Commander. The king had always ensured Jaime would be a witness to his madness, but his queen now offered him a way out. It wasn’t for his own benefit, but getting Elia and the kids to Dragonstone would be a burden off his mind nonetheless. “I’ll be coming with you.” the eunuch chimed in, smug as ever.

“There it is.” Jaime spat out, his tone thick with judgement. “You don’t care to serve- only to save your own skin.” he muttered. The eunuch flashed an icy smile and his head tilted to the side as he spoke, “Is the same not true for you, Ser Jaime? Finally escaping the clutches of the mad dragon… back to the safety of your father. Admit it… you hope this ends with being released from your vows. Perhaps you’ll even be permitted to marry Elia, now that she has no husband… Are you truly your father’s son? I was so sure you’d see the opportunity. You Lannisters are supposed to love reaching above your station, aren’t you? Something I can appreciate, I suppose.” The Lyseni pursed his painted lips into a cruel smirk and shrugged his shoulders, “Ah well… I’m sure you’ve heard the whispers of your father’s actions… Twelve thousand men from the Westerlands, gone. They must be going somewhere... It must not really matter to you either way. You simply get to stand next to the king and watch as it all unfolds.”

Jaime had enough of the Spider’s venom. His hand shot towards Varys’s jewel-covered throat, squeezing tight as he pulled him up to whisper in his ear, “Listen to me closely, you are nothing more than an honorless maggot who has overestimated his usefulness to the king. I am a sworn knight of the Kingsguard. It is my duty to protect the royal line. If you ever present yourself as a threat to them…” He pulled the Spider closer and snarled, “I will happily dispose of you with the rest of the trash, eunuch.” He grunted as he pushed Varys back, sending the master of whispers tumbling onto the floor in a humiliated heap of shimmering silk, fur, and feathers. “I have been given an order, have I not?” he asked, though Varys only stared up at him with malice. “I will not betray the crown now by forsaking my duty.” he stated and reached down to pull the eunuch back onto his feet. Jaime did not care for the Spider one bit, and he certainly didn’t look forward to sharing travels with him, but he did feel some measure of gratitude that he informed him of this. “Thank you.” the knight said calmly. Varys’s brow furrowed at the sudden change in Jaime’s demeanor and he took a cautious step back, “For what? We both serve the crown.” The eunuch adjusted his robes and gave Jaime a discerning look before whispering, “It will be tonight. You must prepare them. Take them to the Tower of the Hand. There’s a passage in the bedchambers that will lead you underground. Meet me there. It’s all taken care of.” Jaime gave him a nod before turning to leave. “Oh, and Ser Jaime?” the eunuch asked. Jaime looked back and raised a brow curiously. “Don’t let the little princess bring her Balerion. That wretched beast belongs in the kitchen catching rats.” Jaime let out a tired sigh and continued on his way.

He spent his evening guarding Aerys’s quarters before dining late, alone like every other night in recent memory. This night would be different though. After dinner he found himself trapped with no company but his thoughts. The faces of Aerys's victims flashed across his mind. How each of their wretched faces burned away as they screamed. Then he saw the same for himself, his flesh bubbling and blackening and popping as wildfire roasted him. The same for Elia, the same for Rhaenys, the same for Aegon. Screaming, crying, melting into ash. He quietly promised himself that no matter what might happen to him, he would get Elia and her children to safety. Aerys no longer deserved his protection, but the same could not be said for them.

As the hour of ghosts drew near, he approached Maegor’s Holdfast hesitantly with a knapsack in hand. There was no going back from this. Once they started they’d be on the run until Aerys and Robert were dead. Their only hopes would be to get to the queen on Dragonstone or Elia’s brothers in Dorne. Jaime made his way across the drawbridge quietly, though he stopped when he thought he heard shouting in the far distance. He paused for a moment to listen closer, but it was still too faint and he couldn’t make sense of where it was coming from. He hurried inside and looked around to find no guards in sight. It unnerved him and sent him sprinting towards the nursery, fearing for Elia and her children. When he arrived he paused outside the door to listen in, but it was completely silent inside. He knocked gently and let out a quiet “Hello?”

The princess pulled the door open a moment later, grunting from the weight of it. She held a candle in one hand and poked her head into the dark hall to look around curiously. Jaime let out a breath of relief at the sight of her and looked over the princess to see Rhaenys and Aegon curled up together in one of the beds. The tiny black kitten known as Balerion purred contentedly beside them. “Oh thank the gods.” Jaime muttered. “Ser Jaime?” Elia whispered, looking up at him with a confused expression. “What are you doing?” she asked, ushering him in quietly and shutting the door behind them. “It’s so late, we were sleeping… What do you want?” she asked as she sat back down, still half-asleep herself and clearly unamused by the sudden disturbance. “I am here to escort you to Dragonstone, my princess. Queen Rhaella has requested you and the children join her at once.” he said, his voice a gentle whisper so as not to wake the children. Her eyes shot open wide and she looked at him with excited relief, now much more alert. She spared a glance at her sleep children before turning back to Jaime , “Really?… But the king has forbidden me or the children to leave… he will send men after us.” Jaime frowned and let out another tired sigh, “Then we’d best hurry, don’t you think? Take only what you can carry. I told you princess... you are not safe here.” Her voice wavered as she walked towards Rhaenys and Aegon, stirring the little princess from her rest. “You need to wake up, my sweet.” She pressed a kiss on top of her daughter’s head and swept some hair out of her face, tucking the silvergold streak that emphasized her daughter’s heritage under the rest of her dark waves. The little princess sat up and rubbed at her tired eyes, “Mama?” Elia pressed another kiss on the top of her head and smiled, “Good girl. We’re going on an adventure, okay? Rhaenys flashed a tired smile and pushed herself off the bed, “Yay! Adventure!” Her mother smiled and gently shushed her, “Shhh, my love. We have to be quiet, okay? Your brother is sleeping and we don’t want anyone else to hear us. Can you do that for me?” The little princess nodded eagerly and flashed another smile at her mom before looking towards Jaime and waving excitedly. “Hello, little princess.” Jaime quipped softly, waving back. “How about you help your mother gather what she needs, okay?” he asked warmly. Rhaenys smiled and turned towards Elia, waddling around to pick up some toys and clothes. She clearly had her priorities in order. “How do you plan to get us out of here? There are guards all over the city. We won’t make it past.” she said cautiously. Jaime opened his knapsack and tossed some clothes onto the bed, watching Elia’s face twist in frustration as she realized what he intended. “I’m no mummer…” Elia began, but Jaime swiftly interrupted. “They won’t look twice at a scullery maid or her lowborn children. You don’t have to say anything at all. You just have to move like you’re meant to be there. I’ll only be a few steps away. We’re going to the Tower of the Hand. There’s a passageway that leads out of the city in the Hand’s bedchambers. We’ll get there more quietly if they think you’re just a servant. You can change out of those clothes once we get to Dragonstone.” Elia went to protest again, but stopped herself and closed her eyes. Finally, both of them were coming to understand that this was their best chance at escaping Aerys. The princess sighed and reached under her dress to withdraw a dagger strapped against her leg. Jaime’s eyes widened in shock and he looked away. “What?” Elia began to laugh, leading him to the door so her and the children could change into their disguises. “Surely you do not think I go anywhere in this castle unprepared?” she asked with a brazen smile before shutting the door in his blushing face.

When Elia emerged with the children Jaime noted how absolutely unrecognizable she looked. She was still a great beauty, but without her Dornish cosmetics and ornaments Jaime never would have noticed she was the stunning Martell princess. Rhaenys too for that matter. The little princess looked remarkably unremarkable without all her Targaryen finery and her silvergold streak tucked away. The only issue here was Balerion, who sat calmly in her arms. Everyone knew the little kitten belonged to the princess, so seeing a lowborn girl with him would garner questions. Jaime let out a sigh as he knelt down next to the little princess, looking into her eyes with a sympathetic expression. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to take him with you, sweet girl…” Jaime began, but Rhaenys instantly started to throw a fit. “No! No! I won’t go anywhere without him! He protects me!” she cried, tears already welling up in her eyes. She looked terrified at the thought of having to leave behind her beloved companion. Elia looked at Jaime and breathed out a nervous sigh, “Ser Jaime, the cat is so dear to her, he calms her. Please, she will be easier to keep quiet if we bring him with us.” Jaime looked up at Elia and stared for a moment before letting out a stern grunt, “Fine, but let me take him. I’ll put him in the bag. Safer that way.” Elia nodded her approval and knelt down next to the two of them, “Go ahead darling, don’t worry. Ser Jaime will keep all of us safe, including Balerion. He’ll only be a few steps away, right?” Her eyes shifted back to him as she asked that and Jaime nodded in response. Rhaenys took in a few rapid breaths, tears still bubbling up inside her as she fearfully stared at Jaime. “O-okay…” she blubbered, slowly extending her arms to hand Balerion off to Jaime. The feline let out a crabby hiss as Jaime scooped him up and shoved him into the knapsack. Poor Balerion would be safe, but he’d have to be content with growling from inside the bag for now. Jaime’s eyes turned to the baby in Elia’s arms and his frown grew as he saw a head full of silvergold hair. “No no- cover his head, and tie him to your chest.” Jaime muttered, moving to pull down the hood on Aegon’s little robes and help fasten the baby against Elia. Once the child was securely tied and camouflaged of his Targaryen heritage as best he could be, they set off towards the Tower of the Hand.

Jaime looked around as they stepped outside the Holdfast, moving across the bridge by himself to make sure they wouldn’t be caught. Other than a sleeping guard and a few torches, it was as quiet as it was going to get. He began leading them towards the stairs that led up to the middle bailey, where the Hand’s Tower was. As they began to make their way up the stairs he frowned and looked towards the nearby barracks. It was more than likely full of Goldcloaks. If anyone were to see Jaime leading a woman and two children out of there, they’d immediately know it was the princess and her kids. He grimaced at her sluggish pace, but he could not begrudge her for it. He knew her physical condition was especially fragile after her pregnancy troubles. Instead he opted to sweep Rhaenys up in one arm and Elia in the other, hurrying up the stairs at a quicker pace. Elia’s eyes widened at being suddenly lifted, but she made no effort to fight it. As they reached the top of the stairs the shouting Jaime had heard earlier returned. “Ser Jaime? What’s happening?” the princess asked, her voice tinged with fear. Rhaenys looked around curiously, trying to make sense of what was going on. Jaime couldn’t see anyone around, but nevertheless he started running towards the sept. He stopped outside and ducked into the shadows with the royals in his arms. “I don’t know, my princess. Do you still have that dagger?” he asked gently. Elia’s eyes grew more fearful and she muttered a detached, “Yes.” He set her down gently and gave her a stern look, “I will get you and the children out of here no matter what, do you understand me? Don’t be afraid.” Elia looked away, letting out some nervous breaths. He shifted Rhaenys over to carry her on his left side, enabling him to draw his sword. “You stay close to me princess, I promise. It’s going to be okay.” he offered a gentle touch to her arm before leading them back out towards the Tower.

They had yet to see anyone other than the sleeping guard by the Holdfast, but the glow of torches growing and the increasing clamor outside the Red Keep was cause for concern. When they reached the Hand’s Tower they were greeted by two Goldcloaks standing watch. “Ser Jaime? Who’s that with you?” the older one of them asked, leaning forward to try and get a better look. They stopped a small distance away from the glow of their torches and Elia looked at Jaime with wide eyes, “What now?” Jaime took in a breath and sighed as he set Rhaenys down by her mother, “Wait here.” It seems the newly-appointed Hand had requested guards outside his tower and for good reason, a pyromancer was not a popular choice of Hand. Varys was supposed to have taken care of this. Useless spider. Jaime approached with a charming smile, “Good to see our loyal Goldcloaks protecting the Hand, eh?” The younger Goldcloak chimed in, “By the king’s orders, ser.” Jaime gave them an understanding nod and chuckled, “Ah, I see…” He paused for a moment to look at them. They stared back waiting for him to continue, but were caught by surprise when he suddenly drew his sword and slashed the younger one across his face. “AGH!” the man cried out, falling to the ground and clutching at his face. “W-what are you doing?! You’ll burn for this!” the older man stammered and reached for his sword, but it was too late. Jaime ran his sword through him with ease before pushing the Goldcloak onto the ground. He brought his blade up to finish off the younger one next and he heard Elia gasp as it severed the young man’s head. Jaime looked back and saw her holding Rhaenys against her too, trying her best to shield her children from the violence. She hurried over, straining under the weight carrying both kids. Jaime met her halfway and took a tearful Rhaenys into his arms, shielding her eyes as best he could when they passed the bodies. They made their way inside without a single word.

Once inside Jaime set Rhaenys down again, telling her, “Stick close to your mother princess.” Elia and the children lingered behind Jaime as he led them through the Tower. Their path to the bedchambers was obstructed with several guards, but he cut through every one of them with ease. The group began making their way up several flights of stairs, although Elia struggled and had to be carried part of the way. Only the occasional muffled cry for help from Balerion disturbed the silence. When they reached the bedchambers Jaime paused and looked back at Elia. “Wait there.” he instructed, motioning for her to hide in the shadows with the children. She nodded and brought the kids back behind a large ancient-looking tablet depicting a dragon. Jaime knocked on the door gently at first, then more firmly after waiting a few moments. Finally, the door opened and Jaime was greeted by Rossart, the Grand Master of the Alchemists’ Guild. He was also the one responsible for the cooking of the late Lord Stark. Just the sight of him made Jaime’s stomach turn. “Kingsguard? What are you doing here? Has something happened?” Rossart asked, standing in the doorway wearing only a nightgown. His eyes widened in fear as he saw the blood on Jaime’s sword. The Kingsguard gave him a pitying frown and nodded, “Oh yes, something’s happened. I’m afraid the Hand has been relieved of his duties.” He approached, gripping his blade tightly. Rossart stumbled back into the room, tripping over a table onto the floor. “P-please! You can’t do this!” the pyromancer begged. His pleading meant nothing to Jaime. He shoved his sword into Rossart’s belly and twisted it before pulling it out, gritting his teeth as the pyromancer let out an agonized cry. Jaime left him to die in that agony, instead looking around the room for the secret passageway Varys had spoken of. Elia came in with the children a moment later and shut the door, barring it behind them. She kept a hand over Rhaenys’s eyes as she brought them next to Jaime. “Are we safe?” she asked calmly. “I think so.” he said, still peering around the room. “Where do we go now?” she asked. “Well… he said it’s in here somewhere.” he muttered, walking over towards the canopied bed. Nothing about it seemed to indicate any sort of secret passage. Why couldn’t the Spider have just told him exactly where it was? Always making things difficult. 

A moment later he heard a mechanical click and turned just in time to watch as the hearth’s stonework opened up in front of Elia. “I found it.” she murmured. “There’s one like it at Dragonstone.” she added. “Oh?” Jaime responded curiously, moving over to peer inside the doorway. It was a sudden drop, with rails leading far down into a tunnel. “We’ll have to climb down. Can you do that?” he asked, turning to look at her. Her brows furrowed in frustration at the question, “Of course I can. I’m not helpless, ser.” Jaime chuckled and gave her a funny look, “I wouldn’t believe you if you said you were. I’ll carry Rhaenys. We’ll go first, you follow right after me okay?” Elia nodded and began to chew at her lip nervously as Jaime picked the little princess up. “I need you to hold onto me tight, okay princess? Don’t let go.” he said, relaxing as she began clinging onto him. They reached the bottom without incident, with Jaime helping Elia down when they finally got there. This time they were met by the painted and powdered face of Varys. He held a torch in one hand and had a pale girl around Rhaenys’s age on the other arm. Jaime stopped and squinted, “Whose child is that? Certainly isn’t yours.” Elia interrupted, “This is who we’re meeting?! How do we know he won’t lead us right to the king!”

Varys offered a duplicitous smile and sucked his teeth, “Normally you thank those who save your life, but I suppose there’s time for courtesies later. Don’t worry about the girl. She’s nobody’s… not yet anyways. Insurance, I suppose. Besides, I plan on returning her to her mother eventually. She seemed happy enough counting her coins on her way out of the city. Now if you don’t mind, I’d prefer we follow her lead!” The eunuch turned on his heel and hurried through the tunnels. “We may already be too late! I regret to say the King has made an error. I fear the city will be lost by morning.” he continued, moving as quickly as his chubby form would allow. “What?! What do you mean? Who’s attacked it?!” Jaime asked, walking behind him. Varys stopped and looked at him as if dumbstruck. “Who else, ser? Your father. He and his men are outside the city gates as we speak, he’s claimed fealty towards the king. We both know that isn’t true.” The eunuch scoffed, as if Jaime should’ve known, and continued on his way. Jaime stared in disbelief as his words sank in. It was actually true. Tywin had amassed a force of twelve thousand men and marched on the city. Varys was right, if they didn’t get out of the city now they never would. More importantly, the princess’s children would certainly suffer a more miserable fate. Jaime’s father was not known for his compassion. He ushered Elia along, still carrying Rhaenys in his arms as they hurried after the Spider. “Where are we going?” Jaime asked, trying his best to bite back a frown. “I’ve made sure there’s horses ready for us on the other side of these tunnels. We’ll ride to Rosby, then Duskendale. There will be a boat waiting to take us to Dragonstone, courtesy of the Velaryons.” Varys explained. Jaime sighed and rubbed his temple. It had already been a long night, but now it felt as if it was just beginning.

Elia let out a relieved laugh when the group was finally met with fresh air and the sight of strong horses. It was music to Jaime’s ears. He mounted the horse and reached down, pulling her up to sit in front of him. He carefully transferred Rhaenys over to Elia’s grasp and tried his best to ignore the awkward position they found themselves in. Instead the both looked to Varys, who seemed to struggle when mounting his horse. “Would you like some help?” Jaime asked in a condescending voice, much to Elia’s amusement. Varys grumbled and eventually pulled himself into a more comfortable position on the saddle. “Let’s just go.” the eunuch groaned and took his horse’s reigns, setting off with that mysterious little girl clinging onto him. The ride to Rosby would be a rough one, even with horses in such good condition. They rode for nearly three hours before taking a small rest. Within the hour they were galloping down the road once again. They were more than halfway to Rosby when they heard the blast behind them. It was louder than anything Jaime had heard in his entire life. It sent all three of the children into crying fits and nearly caused Varys to fall from his horse when it bucked. It was a moment later that they felt the blast, a rush of hot wind blowing through the trees and over the group. All of them stopped to look back, upon which Elia let out a shocked gasp. An enormous sickly glowing green cloud of smoke rose up in the sky towards the direction of the city. If it had been earlier in the day it would have blotted out the sun. “What has he done…?” the princess asked quietly. Jaime felt her shivering against him and frowned, he didn’t know how she could feel so cold with the sudden heat wave washing over them. More likely that she was just scared. Still, he reached back to rip off his cloak which he then used to wrap around her and the children. “We have to keep going.” was all Jaime could muster, forcing down a bitter lump in his throat. “I didn’t think I’d see the day.” Varys murmured, staring down at the ground as he lost himself in thought. The stench of burnt flesh began to fill the air as the explosion settled in the distance, prompting the group to continue hurrying on their way.

They reached Rosby shortly after dawn, when most people had just begun to wake up. Jaime was absolutely exhausted by now and knew that he would soon need real sleep. They stopped outside Rosby’s village, if only for a short reprieve before seeking better shelter. Varys approached him right after they dismounted, the mysterious girl still in the Spider’s arms. He tried to think of who she could be, but came up with no answers and settled on asking. “Are you going to tell us who that girl is now?” Jaime asked in a blunt manner, prompting Varys to let out a laugh. The eunuch paused before responding similarly, “No. You need to get rid of that armor. You’re a walking target with it on.” The Kingsguard looked down at himself and sighed before nodding in agreement. He’d grown fond of this particular set, but the Spider was right. A knight in golden armor would draw unwelcome attention. Jaime moved away to find some privacy before shedding the suit. He almost felt naked without it, although he knew the man made the knight, not the sword or the armor. When he rejoined the group he found Elia sitting with Rhaenys, Aegon, and the mystery girl, quietly singing to them. She looked up from her song and smiled, “Ser Jaime… I- I don’t know what to say. I can’t thank you enough.” She pressed kisses against Rhaenys’s and Aegon’s foreheads before standing and walking towards him. She spared a brief look back at the kids before turning to him and saying in a hushed voice, “We would have died there without you… and Varys. We never would have made it out.” He stared at her quietly, but then she suddenly hugged him and it caught Jaime by surprise. He paused for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and saying, “I was only doing what any Kingsguard would do.” Elia pulled back and looked up at him, “That isn’t true. There are plenty of dishonorable knights who would’ve looked the other way and followed their king blindly. You chose not to. You’re more honorable than any man I’ve ever met. Thank you, Jaime… I don’t know how I can repay you.”        

Today Jaime felt as though he had proven himself an honorable knight. Regardless of what others may say he’d done his duty. The princess’s words were proof of that. He’d kept his word to the prince and protected the royal line. Instead of saying anything he just smiled at her and shook his head. Varys interrupted an instant later, now disguised as an old woman, “Well, I suppose we should seek a room at an inn. You’ll be her husband. I’m your ailing mother.” Jaime rolled his eyes and Elia scoffed. The Spider certainly had a flare for the dramatics, but he was good at it. It was no wonder he charmed Aerys. “Come, mother…” Jaime mocked, “Let’s find somewhere to sleep.”