Hello, Drinor here. I'm happy to publish a new Chapter of A Dragon Kissed by Sun.
If you want to Read 9 More Chapters Right Now. Search 'Drinor Patreon' in Google and Click the First LINK
The following 9 chapters are already available to Patrons.
Chapter 74, Chapter 75, Chapter 76, Chapter 77, Chapter 78, Chapter 79, Chapter 80, Chapter 81, and Chapter 82 are already available for Patrons.
The orange evening sun cast long shadows through the tent's entrance, where two guards in Martell colors stood watch. Inside, the air was heavy with tension as Jaehaerys studied the man before him. Jaime Lannister sat straight-backed in his chair, his golden hair still damp from his bath, the white scales of his armor gleaming. The three-headed dragon on his breastplate seemed to catch every ray of light that entered the tent, showing everyone where his loyalty was.
Behind Jaehaerys, Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Gerold Hightower stood like living statues, their white cloaks pristine, their hands never far from their sword hilts. Their eyes bore into their former sworn brother with undisguised contempt.
"Tell me, Ser Jaime," Jaehaerys began, his voice carrying the same quiet authority that had marked his father's, "what do you imagine your lord father is doing at this very moment?"
Jaime's green eyes met the king's purple ones without hesitation. "Brooding in Harrenhal, Your Grace. Likely staring at maps and cursing your dragon while trying to convince himself he still has a chance of victory."
"You know him well."
"I should. I spent my whole life trying to live up to his expectations." A bitter smile crossed Jaime's face. "Failed spectacularly at that, I'm afraid."
"And the Westerlands?" Jaehaerys leaned forward, his dark hair catching the light. "How many men remain to defend your family's lands?"
"Three thousand at most. Perhaps less after your victory at the Snake's Pass." Jaime's fingers drummed once on the table before he caught himself and stopped. "If I know my father – and in matters of war, I do – he'll have at least two thousand men at Casterly Rock alone."
"Leaving the rest of the Westerlands defenseless," Jaehaerys noted.
"The Rock is all that matters to him. It's the seat of our power, our wealth, our legacy." Jaime's voice took on a mocking tone. "A Lannister must always protect the Rock, even if it means sacrificing everything else."
"And how does it feel?" Ser Arthur's voice cut through the tent like Ice itself, sharp and cold. "Knowing your ancestral home will fall to our king's forces?"
Jaime turned to face his former brother, green eyes meeting purple in a clash. "I am a Kingsguard first, Ser Arthur. I swore my sword and my loyalty to King Jaehaerys. The fate of Casterly Rock is no longer my concern."
A scoff came from Ser Gerold. "Yes, we all remember how well you kept your previous oaths, Kingslayer."
"The oaths I swore to a mad king who burned innocents alive?" Jaime's facade of calm cracked slightly. "Tell me, Lord Commander, what would you have done when Aerys ordered you to bring him your own father's head?"
"We would have found another way," Arthur said firmly.
"Another way?" Jaime laughed, though there was no humor in it. "There was no other way. No time for clever plans or noble sacrifices." His voice dropped lower. "I chose them. I'd choose them again."
"Yet here you sit," Gerold growled, "having sworn yourself to another Targaryen king."
"To a king who doesn't see burning men alive as entertainment," Jaime countered. "To a king who..."
"Enough." Jaehaerys's quiet command silenced the room instantly. He studied Jaime for a long moment before speaking again. "Tell me about the Rock's defenses."
Jaime straightened in his chair. "The main approach is virtually impregnable. The Lion's Mouth can be held by a hundred men against thousands. The walls are hundreds of feet high, carved from solid rock. No army in history has ever taken it by conventional means."
"Good thing we have unconventional means," Jaehaerys said with a slight smile.
"Yes, Your Grace. Though even a dragon will find it challenging. The Rock has deep caverns and tunnels where men can hide from aerial attack. And knowing my father, he'll have scorpions placed at every possible angle."
"Your father seems to put great faith in scorpions," Jaehaerys observed.
"My father puts his faith in anything that might give him an advantage. He'll have traps prepared, escape routes planned, gold cached away in secret vaults."
"And you know these routes? These vaults?"
A shadow passed over Jaime's face. "I do. Every one of them. I explored them all as a boy, much to my father's annoyance. He preferred me to spend my time learning how to rule, while I only wanted to learn how to fight."
"The mighty Jaime Lannister," Arthur muttered, "betraying even his family's secrets."
Jaime's head snapped around. "I betrayed my family's secrets the moment I knelt before King Jaehaerys and swore him my sword. Or would you have me keep one foot in each camp, like so many others?"
"You'd need to have honor to understand honor's demands," Gerold said.
"Honor?" Jaime's laugh was sharp and sudden. "Was it honorable to guard a mad king's door while he raped his wife? Was it honorable to stand silent while he burned lord after lord alive? Tell me about honor, Ser Gerold. Tell me what honor demanded while children screamed."
"Jaime." Jaehaerys's voice was quiet but firm. The Kingslayer subsided, though his eyes still blazed.
A long moment of silence filled the tent before Jaehaerys spoke again. "You mentioned escape routes. Where do they lead?"
Jaime took a deep breath, visibly composing himself. "There are three main passages. One leads to the coast, where boats can be quickly launched. Another comes out in the hills two miles north of Lannisport. The third..." He paused. "The third is known only to the Lord of Casterly Rock and his heir. It was shown to me on my sixteenth nameday."
"And where does it lead?"
"To a cave system that connects to an old mine shaft. From there, one can emerge anywhere in a ten-mile radius of the Rock. My father will use that one if things become desperate. He's too proud for the others."
Jaehaerys nodded slowly. "And you would lead men to intercept him there?"
"I would do whatever my king commands." Jaime's voice was steady, but something flickered in his eyes.
"Even if it meant your father's death?"
"Even then." Jaime met Jaehaerys's gaze squarely. "I made my choice when I swore my sword to you. I won't unmake it now."
Arthur made a disgusted sound. "As you unmade your choice with King Aerys?"
"Arthur," Jaehaerys warned, but Jaime was already responding.
"No, Ser Arthur. Not like with Aerys. You see, King Jaehaerys here hasn't once asked me to murder innocent people. Hasn't once demanded I stand guard while he tortures children for entertainment. Hasn't once ordered me to hold down his wife while he..." He stopped abruptly, his face tight with old pain.
Silence fell again, heavier this time. Even Arthur and Gerold seemed affected by the raw emotion in Jaime's voice.
"Tell me, Ser Jaime," Jaehaerys said finally, "if you could speak to your father now, what would you say?"
Jaime was quiet for so long that it seemed he might not answer. When he did, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I would tell him that he spent so long worrying about the family legacy that he forgot about the family itself. That his precious golden twins turned out to be his greatest disappointments – one a kingslayer, the other a..." He stopped himself. "But it wouldn't matter what I said. Tywin Lannister doesn't listen to disappointed sons."
Jaehaerys nodded slowly. "Thank you for your candor, Ser Jaime. We'll speak more of the Rock's defenses tomorrow. For now, you may retire."
Jaime stood, bowed perfectly, and strode from the tent. Just before he left, he paused and looked back at his former brothers. "You know what's truly ironic? I finally learned what real honor is by breaking a sacred oath. Sometimes I wonder if either of you has ever had to make a choice that difficult."
He was gone before either could respond, leaving only the sound of evening birdsong and the distant clash of practice swords from the camp.
"I don't trust him," Arthur said immediately.
"Nor I," Gerold agreed. "A man who would kill one king might kill another."
"My grandfather was a monster," Jaehaerys said suddenly, standing up from his seat. "We can wrap it in pretty words and royal titles, but that's the truth of it. A man who found joy in burning people alive deserved no loyalty."
"Your Grace," Arthur began, his voice strained, "regardless of King Aerys's... proclivities, Ser Jaime swore a sacred oath—"
"And I would have broken it too," Jaehaerys cut in, his voice sharp as Valyrian steel. "If I had been there instead of Jaime, if I had been there to hear my grandmother screaming. I would have walked into that door. Blood related or not, Kinslaying or not. I would have cut his throat from ear to ear."
The tent grew silent save for the distant sounds of the camp. Even the ever-stoic Gerold Hightower seemed uncomfortable.
"Jaime did the right thing," Jaehaerys continued, softer now. "Yes, he broke his oath. But if he hadn't, House Targaryen would be remembered as nothing but mad kings and burning flesh for centuries to come." He ran a hand through his dark hair. "Sometimes keeping an oath can be more dishonorable than breaking it."
"Your Grace, what do you mean? What was the King trying to do that Jaime thought he needed to kill the King he swore to protect." Arthur persisted, though with less conviction, "how can you be so certain of his loyalty?"
"Jaime has known about me for a year now," Jaehaerys replied simply. "Known who I truly am, known about our plans. He could have told his father at any time. One raven to Tywin Lannister, and all our careful preparations would have been for nothing." He fixed both knights with a steady gaze. "Yet here we stand, on the verge of taking back the Seven Kingdoms. Because Jaime Lannister kept faith. And if you want to know what happened, then ask Jaime. I'm sure he will answer all your questions."
Arthur looked like he wanted to argue further, but Gerold cleared his throat meaningfully. Even the Sword of the Morning knew better than to push too far against his king's judgment.
"Speaking of faith," Gerold said, smoothly changing the subject, "who shall we send to Highgarden, Your Grace? The Tyrells must be made to understand their position."
"I can ride there with Prince Oberyn," Arthur offered. "The Reach lords respect martial prowess, and between the two of us—"
"No," Jaehaerys interrupted, a slight smile playing at his lips. "Lady Olenna isn't some green boy to be impressed by legendary swordsmen. She needs to see the dragon herself." His smile faded. "She needs to understand that House Tyrell has only two choices: support House Targaryen or burn."
"The Queen of Thorns is not easily cowed," Gerold observed.
"No," Jaehaerys agreed. "But even the sharpest thorns mean little to dragonfire." He moved to the map table, his finger tracing the route from their position to Highgarden. "I'll fly there myself. Sometimes the most effective negotiation is simply showing your strength."
"And what of Casterly Rock?" Arthur asked.
Before the King could respond. The tent flap rustled, and Prince Oberyn Martell strode in with the fluid grace of a viper, followed by several of his daughters. Obara's hand rested on her spear as always, while Nymeria played with one of her hidden daggers. Tyene wore an innocent smile that fooled no one, and Sarella's eyes immediately went to the map on the table.
"Jaehaerys," Oberyn called out, his Dornish accent thick with amusement. "Your precious stag has finally decided to rejoin the land of the living."
Jaehaerys turned sharply. "Robert's awake?"
"Indeed. And quite eager to continue where he left off." Oberyn's dark eyes sparkled with mirth. "Even with three broken ribs, a shattered collarbone, and enough bruises to make him look like an overripe plum, the man demanded his warhammer."
"That's Robert Baratheon for you," Jaehaerys said, a hint of respect in his voice. "The Demon of the Trident doesn't know when to stay down."
"Much like someone else I know," Oberyn said pointedly, giving Jaehaerys a look that spoke of countless reckless training sessions and stubborn refusals to yield.
Nymeria laughed softly. "Remember when our little brother thought he could outdrink Oberyn during the feast of the Seven?"
"Little brother who also thought he could outfight me blindfolded," Obara added with a smirk.
"I was twelve," Jaehaerys protested, though a smile tugged at his lips. "And as I recall, Obara, you weren't much better at that age, trying to challenge the Darkstar to a duel."
"At least I didn't try to ride a horse backwards while shooting arrows," Obara shot back.
"No, that was Sarella," Tyene said sweetly, earning a glare from her sister.
"If we could return to the matter at hand," Ser Gerold interrupted, though there was a slight softening around his eyes. The old knight had watched Jaehaerys grow up in Dorne, and while he might not approve of all the Dornish influences, he couldn't deny they had helped shape his king into a capable leader.
"Yes, please," Arthur added, "before we revisit every misadventure of His Grace's youth."
"Oh, but there are so many good ones," Oberyn said with a wicked grin. "Like the time he and Arianne tried to catch a scorpion to put in Quentyn's bed—"
"What's our next move?" Oberyn interrupted before they could start another talk about the good old days.
Jaehaerys pointed to Highgarden on the map. "I'm flying there personally. The Queen of Thorns needs to understand that House Targaryen isn't just back – it's stronger than ever. I know she send a raven that she is supporting House Targaryen, but I think a short visit is enough to send a clear message, and then we can move towards other things."
"Ah, Lady Olenna." Oberyn's smile turned predatory. "I do so enjoy our verbal sparring matches. Perhaps I should accompany you?"
"No, Uncle. I need you to take half our forces and secure Casterly Rock." Jaehaerys moved several pieces on the map. "Imprison anyone with Lannister blood you find there. We can't risk leaving any lions free to roar."
"Not even cubs?" Tyene asked innocently.
"...Not them." Jae said a little reluctantly. "The children are to be left alone."
"What about the Imp?" Sarella asked, her scholarly mind always working. "He's with his father at Harrenhal, is he not?"
"Along with whatever's left of Tywin's army," Arthur added.
Jaehaerys chuckled and placed a silver dragon figurehead near Harrenhal on the map. "Lord Tywin will have his hands full soon enough. My aunt Daenerys is marching south with the forces of the Riverlands."
"Ah yes, the other dragon rider," Oberyn mused. "I wish I could have been there to see their faces when she appeared. Nothing like a dragon landing in the courtyard of Riverrun to remind them who ruled Westeros for three centuries."
"She can be very persuasive when she wants to be," Jaehaerys said with a smile. "Though I suspect it was her promise of Lannister blood that truly won over the Tullys."
"And the North follows you because of your Stark blood," Sarella observed. "Though I imagine your own dragon helped convince any doubters."
"Uncle Ned didn't need much convincing," Jaehaerys replied. "The North remembers – both its loyalties and its wrongs. Having the blood of both Stark and Targaryen in my veins helped heal old wounds."
"Speaking of joining houses," Oberyn said with a knowing smirk, "my niece Arianne asks when you plan to fulfill your betrothal promises. She says waiting for both a dragon and a husband is trying her patience."
"Father," Tyene chided, though she was smiling. "I'm sure His Grace has more pressing matters than wedding plans."
"More pressing than two beautiful women waiting to be his queens?" Oberyn raised an eyebrow. "The boy I raised better have his priorities straight."
"The realm comes first," Jaehaerys said firmly, though his cheeks colored slightly. "Dany and Arianne understand that. Once we've secured the kingdoms, there will be time for weddings."
"I am not in the mood to hear about the woman that my brother fucks," Nymeria interjected, "what do you plan to do with Tywin Lannister when we catch him?"
"When, not if?" Oberyn asked, amused.
"Please, Father," Nymeria scoffed. "The man is trapped between two dragons and armies from five kingdoms. Even the great Tywin Lannister can't escape those odds."
"Never underestimate a cornered lion," Ser Gerold warned. "I've known Lord Tywin since he was Hand to Aerys. He always has another plan."
"True enough," Oberyn agreed. "Though even his brilliant mind must be struggling now. His army is broken, his heir has turned against him, his lands are about to fall, and dragons once again darken the skies." He turned to Jaehaerys. "What will you do with the Old Lion when he's caught?"
"Justice," Jaehaerys said simply. "For Elia. For my siblings. For every crime he's committed in his pursuit of legacy and power."
Oberyn's eyes flashed dangerously. "I would very much like to be present for that justice."
"You'll have to share with Daenerys," Jaehaerys said. "She has her own scores to settle with House Lannister."
"I'm willing to negotiate," Oberyn said with a deadly smile. "Perhaps she can have Tywin's head, and I'll take his heart? Or should we draw leafes for different body parts?"
"Father," Sarella chided, though she didn't seem particularly disturbed by the violent talk.
"What? I'm being perfectly reasonable. I'm even willing to share, which your uncle Doran would tell you is quite an improvement for me."
"Speaking of sharing," Obara said, "how do we split our forces for taking the Rock?"
Jaehaerys turned back to the map. "The Dornish spears will form the bulk of the assault force. The Stormlanders we've won over will provide archer support. And I want you to take Jaime Lannister with you, he will show you all the secret passages."
"Can he be trusted?"
"Yes. Jaime Lannister can be trusted. He bent the knee to me; he swore his sword to me. He knows who the true King is."
"As do we all," Oberyn said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Which is why House Martell stands with you, sister's son. Not just for vengeance, though the gods know we've waited long enough for that, but because you are the king the Seven Kingdoms needs."
"A king who remembers justice isn't just about punishment," Tyene added softly.
"A king who knows strength isn't just about power," said Nymeria.
"A king who understands that family isn't just about blood," Sarella finished.
Jaehaerys looked at his adoptive family – the uncle who had helped raise him, the cousins who had become sisters, the home that had taken him in when he had nothing but a name and a destiny. "Thank you," he said simply, knowing they would understand all he wasn't saying.
"Don't thank us yet," Oberyn said, his usual playful manner returning. "Wait until we've taken the Rock and I've had the pleasure of seeing Tywin Lannister's face when he realizes his great fortress has fallen to Dornishmen."
"And women," Obara added firmly.
"And women," Oberyn agreed with a proud smile.
"Your Grace, when do you plan to leave for Highgarden?"
"At first light," Jaehaerys replied. "The sooner Lady Olenna understands her position, the better."
"And if she refuses to bend the knee?" Arthur asked.
"Then Highgarden will learn why House Targaryen chose fire and blood as their words." Jaehaerys's voice was quiet but firm. "I take no pleasure in it, but I won't allow pride and stubbornness to prolong this war."
"The Tyrells have always been ambitious," Oberyn noted. "Perhaps you should offer them something more than just survival. A seat on your small council, perhaps?"
"Let's see if they survive the meeting first," Jaehaerys said. "Though I suspect Lady Olenna is too clever to refuse a dragon at her doorstep."
"Unlike some others we could name," Nymeria said with a pointed look at the Stormlands on the map.
"Robert Baratheon needed to be defeated in combat," Jaehaerys said. "His pride would accept nothing less. But Lady Olenna's pride serves her ambition, not the other way around."
"Well said," Oberyn approved. "Though I still think you should let me come with you. My wit combined with your dragon – imagine the entertainment value!"
"The last thing we need is you provoking the Queen of Thorns," Ser Gerold muttered.
"Provoking? Me?" Oberyn placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. "I am the very soul of diplomacy."
Every person in the tent, including his own daughters, gave him a skeptical look.
"Fine," he sighed dramatically. "I'll content myself with taking the most well-defended castle in Westeros instead. Though it won't be nearly as much fun as watching Lady Olenna try to maintain her composure when faced with a dragon."
"I'm sure you'll find ways to entertain yourself, father," Jaehaerys said dryly. "Just try not to enjoy humbling the Lannisters too much."
"Too much?" Oberyn's grin was downright wicked. "Little Dragon, there is no such thing as enjoying the Lannisters' downfall too much. It's like saying there's such a thing as too much wine or too much love – technically possible, perhaps, but why would anyone want to find out?"
Later
After speaking more about their strategies, Oberyn and his daughters left the tent, leaving Jae with his three Kingsguards. Ser Oswell joined them five minutes ago, and Jae decided to get into it immediately.
"Speak with Ser Jaime," Jaehaerys had commanded them, his violet eyes brooking no argument. "I won't have my Kingsguard ready to tear each other's throats out the moment I turn my back. Whatever grievances you hold, settle them. Now."
The three legendary knights of the Kingsguard walked through the camp in silence, their white cloaks drawing respectful nods from soldiers who quickly stepped out of their way. The tension between them was palpable – decades of service together warring with their rigid sense of duty and honor.
They found Jaime Lannister sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the camp, methodically cleaning his golden armor. His green eyes were fixed northward, toward King's Landing, and there was something distant in his gaze, as though he was seeing something far beyond the horizon.
Ser Gerold cleared his throat deliberately. Jaime turned, and for a moment, they saw that same young knight who had stood beside them in the throne room all those years ago. Then his trademark smirk appeared, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Well," Jaime said, setting aside his polishing cloth, "if it isn't the three ghosts of Kingsguard past. Come to pass judgment on the Kingslayer at last?"
"What happened that day?" Arthur asked bluntly, ignoring the sarcasm. "When you killed Aerys. Tell us everything."
Jaime's smirk faded. He looked around, noting that they were alone at this edge of the camp, then turned back to face his former brothers.
"Would you believe me if I told you?"
"Try us," Oswell said, his usually sardonic tone unusually serious.
Jaime was quiet for a long moment, his hands still on his golden armor. "He was losing his grip on reality more and more after we received word that Rhaegar had fallen at the Trident. The whispers got worse – you remember his whispers, don't you? The ones he'd have with himself when he thought no one was listening?"
The three knights nodded grimly. They all remembered.
"He kept saying that Robert was coming to take his city, but he wouldn't let him have it. 'He'll be king of ashes,' he'd mutter. 'King of bones.'" Jaime's voice had taken on a distant quality. "I didn't understand what he meant. Not at first."
"What changed?" Gerold asked quietly.
"My father's army was at the gates. Pycelle had convinced the King to open them, saying my father had come to protect the city." A bitter laugh escaped Jaime's lips. "The King ordered me to bring him my father's head. To prove I wasn't a traitor like my father."
"But you didn't," Arthur said.
"No. Because that's when he turned to Rossart. His pet pyromancer." Jaime's eyes grew hard. "That's when he gave the order to 'burn them all.' To light all the caches of wildfire they'd hidden beneath the city."
The three knights went very still.
"Wildfire?" Oswell whispered. "Beneath the city?"
"Everywhere," Jaime confirmed. "Under the Sept of Baelor. Under the streets of Flea Bottom. Under the homes of half a million people. Under the Red Keep itself." He looked at each of them in turn. "Did you never wonder why he had the pyromancers coming and going so often? What they were doing in those endless meetings?"
Arthur's face had gone white. "Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys were still in the Red Keep."
A rueful smile crossed Jaime's face. "He didn't care. Not about them, not about anyone. He believed the wildfire would transform him. That he would rise from the flames reborn as a dragon, and turn his enemies to ash."
"Gods," Gerold breathed.
"So I killed him," Jaime said simply. "I killed Rossart first, when he tried to leave to give the order. Then I found Aerys, trying to flee to his chambers. He kept screaming 'burn them all' until the very end." He looked down at his hands. "The same hands that swore to protect him put a sword through his back and then I sliced his throat to make sure that wouldn't have happened."
Silence fell between them. The sounds of the camp seemed distant now, as though the weight of Jaime's revelation had created a bubble around them.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Oswell finally asked.
"Would it have mattered?" Jaime's bitter smile returned. "I was the Kingslayer. The oath-breaker. Who would have believed me? Ned Stark certainly didn't when he found me on that throne. He just saw what he expected to see – a Lannister betraying his king."
"We would have believed you," Arthur said quietly.
"Would you?" Jaime challenged. "The great Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, paragon of knightly virtue? Would you have believed that breaking our sacred oath was the right thing to do?"
"Yes," Arthur said firmly. "Because you didn't just break an oath that day. You kept one far more important."
"'Protect the innocent,'" Gerold quoted softly. "The first oath any knight swears."
"The only oath that should matter," Oswell added.
Jaime looked at them with surprise, then quickly masked it. "Well, well. The great knights of the Kingsguard, supporting oath-breaking. What would the singers say?"
"The singers weren't there," Arthur said. "They didn't serve Aerys. They didn't see what we saw, what we chose to ignore because of our oaths." He stepped forward and placed a hand on Jaime's shoulder. "We failed that day too, brother. By not being there. By leaving you alone to make an impossible choice."
"I wasn't alone," Jaime said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I had my honor for company." His laugh was hollow. "Fat lot of good it did me."
"But why didn't you protect them?" Arthur's voice cut through the silence, sharp as Valyrian steel. "Prince Aegon, Princess Rhaenys, Queen Elia... they were innocent."
The smirk fell from Jaime's face, replaced by genuine anguish. "That... that is one of my greatest regrets."
"Regrets don't bring back dead children," Arthur pressed, his violet eyes hard.
"I know," Jaime whispered. He ran a hand through his golden hair, looking suddenly much older than his years. "After I killed Aerys... I was just... numb. I sat on that throne, staring at his body, trying to make sense of everything. I never thought..." He swallowed hard. "I never believed my father would do something like that. Send the Mountain and Lorch to..." He couldn't finish the sentence.
"You didn't know?" Oswell's tone was skeptical.
"I swear it," Jaime said, meeting their eyes desperately. "I swear on my mother's grave, I didn't know what my father planned. The Mountain, Ser Amory Lorch... they were just names to me then. Bannermen of House Lannister. I never imagined they would..." He shook his head. "By the time I learned what was happening, it was too late."
"The Mountain, at least, has paid for his crimes," Ser Gerold said dismissively. "Our King saw to that last year at the tourney melee."
A ghost of a smile crossed Jaime's face. "I was there. Never seen anything like it. The Mountain thought he could overwhelm the King with brute force, like he did with everyone else. But Jaehaerys... he moved like water around that great brute. Cut his head off."
"Poetic justice," Arthur said coldly. "The monster who smashed Prince Aegon's head against a wall, killed by the boy's brother in front of thousands."
"And Ser Amory Lorch?" Ser Oswell asked quietly.
"Still hiding behind my father's skirts at Harrenhal," Jaime replied with a predatory smile. "Though I doubt he'll be alive much longer. Our King has a particular interest in dealing with the man who stabbed his sister fifty times."
There was silence once again until Jaime decided to say the last bit there was left to say. Jaime's face hardened. "Good. I hope he suffers." He looked at Arthur pleadingly. "I know my word means little to you now, but I truly didn't know what they planned. If I had..."
"If you had?" Arthur challenged.
"I would have died protecting them," Jaime said firmly. "Better to die with honor than live with this shame. Every time I close my eyes, I see them. Princess Rhaenys, who used to hide behind my cloak during hide-and-seek. Prince Aegon, barely more than a babe. Queen Elia, who was always kind to me, even when others saw only a Lannister."
The three knights studied him in silence, weighing his words.
"You were young," Gerold finally said. "Too young to be left alone with such choices."
"Age is no excuse," Jaime replied bitterly. "I was old enough to wear the white cloak. Old enough to kill a king. I should have been old enough to protect them."
"And now?" Arthur asked. "What will you do when we face your father's forces?"
"I'll do what I should have done years ago," Jaime said, his green eyes hard as emerald. "I'll choose honor over family. Justice over loyalty to a house that lost its way." He picked up his sword. "My father must answer for his crimes. All of them."
"Even if it means his death?" Oswell pressed.
"Especially then," Jaime replied. "The debt must be paid. A Lannister always pays his debts, isn't that what we say? Well, House Lannister owes a blood debt to House Targaryen. To Princess Elia. To all those who died when my father unleashed his monsters on the city."
Arthur studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Perhaps there's more of a true knight in you than I thought, Ser Jaime."
"A true knight?" Jaime laughed bitterly. "No. Just a man trying to do what's right. Finally." He looked toward King's Landing again. "We should tell the King about the wildfire. Every cache we can remember. It needs to be dealt with before anyone else gets the same idea as Aerys."
"Agreed," Gerold said. "Though that's a task for another day. For now..." He extended his hand to Jaime. "Welcome back to the brotherhood, Ser Jaime."
"The King was right," Oswell mused. "We needed to hear this."
"He usually is," Arthur agreed. "Come, brother. Let's return to camp. We have plans to make, and old wrongs to right."
.
.
As they walked back toward camp, Jaime cleared his throat. "The King... he's agreed to something, actually."
"Oh?" Arthur turned, eyebrow raised. "What agreement?"
"My brother, Tyrion. He'll be allowed to survive the war and rule Casterly Rock afterward." Jaime's voice held a mix of relief and gratitude.
"Your dwarf brother?" Arthur's tone was questioning. "Why would the King agree to that?"
"Because Tyrion is innocent," Jaime said firmly. "He was just a boy during the rebellion, younger than Princess Rhaenys. The King understands that he can't simply execute everyone with the name Lannister. That's what his grandfather would have done."
"And he trusts your brother to remain loyal?" Gerold asked skeptically.
"He'll have to marry a lady of the King's choosing," Jaime explained. "Someone loyal to House Targaryen, to ensure the West's future allegiance." A slight smile crossed his face. "Though honestly, that part won't be necessary. Tyrion has always wanted Casterly Rock, not out of greed, but to prove himself worthy of it. My father never saw his worth, but Tyrion has the sharpest mind of anyone I've ever known. He'll make a better ruler than any of us."
"Why not you?" Oswell asked suddenly. "You're the eldest son. You could lay down your white cloak, rule the West in your family's name. Surely the King would consider it?"
Jaime shook his head firmly. "No. I'm a Kingsguard. The white cloak is part of me now, more than any crimson and gold ever was." His green eyes held conviction. "I'll die wearing this cloak, serving a king worthy of service."
"Even if it means watching your brother rule what could have been yours?" Arthur pressed.
"Especially then," Jaime replied with a genuine smile. "Tyrion deserves it. And I..." He touched the hilt of his sword. "I've found where I belong. Finally serving with honor, alongside true brothers."
The other three knights exchanged glances, seeing the truth in his words.
"Besides," Jaime added with a hint of his old humor, "can you imagine me sitting in council meetings, dealing with grain stores and petty lordly disputes? I'd go mad within a week. No, let Tyrion handle the ruling. He was born for it. I was born for this." He gestured to his white cloak.
Jaehaerys Targaryen
Jaehaerys approached the cage where Robert Baratheon was held, his footsteps echoing in the quiet evening. The once-mighty Demon of the Trident was bound to a pole, heavy chains wrapped around his legs, enclosed within a sturdy metal cage. Despite his circumstances, Robert's blue eyes blazed with defiance.
"Look at this," Robert barked out a laugh, rattling his chains. "So scared of me you put me in a cage like some beast?"
Jaehaerys said nothing, moving closer until he stood just beyond arm's reach. Robert's laughter died as he took a good look at the young king's face, his eyes widening slightly.
"Gods be damned," Robert breathed, a smile spreading across his face as if greeting an old friend. "You're her boy. Those eyes... that face... you're Lyanna's son."
Jaehaerys remained silent, his violet eyes – so like his father's, yet shaped like his mother's – studying the man who had once been meant to marry Lyanna Stark.
"I remember your face," Robert continued, still wearing that strange, familiar smile. "You killed that beast, the Mountain. I still remember when you cut his head off. Always knew that beast needed putting down."
"Yet you never did it yourself," Jaehaerys finally spoke, his voice quiet but sharp. "You never punished him or Ser Amory Lorch for what they did to Elia Martell and her children. My siblings."
The smile faded from Robert's face, replaced by a frown. "Why do you care? Just kill me and be done with it. That's what you came for, isn't it? To see the man who killed your father?"
"Why aren't you afraid?" Jaehaerys asked, genuinely curious. "Of dying?"
For the first time, genuine sadness crossed Robert's face, aging him beyond his years. "Because I died a long time ago, boy. The moment they put that fucking crown on my head, Robert Baratheon ceased to exist." He gave a bitter laugh. "All that was left was a king who drank and whored himself to an early grave. I've been dead for years – just took my body some time to catch up. I married a woman who I never loved."
He rattled his chains again, but this time the gesture seemed weary rather than defiant. "So go on. Do what you came to do. Kill me. Put me out of my misery."
"Is that what you want?" Jaehaerys asked softly. "Death?"
"What I want?" Robert's laugh was hollow. "What I wanted died in a tower in Dorne. What I wanted slipped away the moment I sat on that cursed throne. What I wanted..." He looked at Jaehaerys, really looked at him. "What I wanted was her. But she chose your father. And here you stand, living proof of that choice."
"You started a war for her," Jaehaerys said. "Tore the realm apart."
Robert's face contorted with sudden fury, yanking at his chains. "Your damned grandfather burned Ned's father alive while his son strangled himself trying to save him!" he snarled, spittle flying from his lips. "The Mad King killed them like they were dogs – worse than dogs! And if that wasn't enough, that mad bastard demanded Jon Arryn bring him our heads. Mine and Ned's."
His blue eyes blazed with the old rage, the fire that had once driven him to crush skulls with his warhammer. "Tell me, boy. What would you have done? If some mad king had burned your friends' family alive and then demanded your head? Would you have meekly walked to King's Landing and laid your neck on the block? Or would you have fought back?"
The question hung in the air between them, weighted with the ghosts of the past.
"My choices?" Robert barked another laugh, but this one was bitter, filled with old pain. "Aye, maybe you're right. I chose hatred over healing. Chose to see what I wanted to see. Chose to let monsters like The Mountain live because they were useful." He shook his head. "But that first choice? Rising against Aerys? That wasn't a choice at all. It was survive or die."
"The crown didn't kill you, Robert," Jaehaerys said quietly. "Your choices after the war did."
"Aye, maybe you're right about that too," Robert admitted, the fire dying in his eyes. "I won the crown but lost myself along the way. Lost everything that mattered." He looked at Jaehaerys again. "Kill me, boy. Do what needs to be done. I'm tired of choosing."
"I won't kill you," Jaehaerys said quietly.
Robert's eyes snapped open, confusion evident on his face. "What?"
"I won't become a Kinslayer if I can avoid it," Jaehaerys explained. Through their great-grandmother's side, they shared blood – something that hadn't escaped his notice.
A slight smile tugged at Robert's lips. "You might have those purple eyes and that fancy dragon of yours, but you're more like her than your father." He shifted in his chains. "More wolf than dragon."
"You never knew her," Jaehaerys replied softly. "The real Lyanna. Not the one in the songs or the stories. Not the one people made her into."
Robert stared at him for a moment before suddenly bursting into loud, genuine laughter that echoed off the cage bars. The sound was so unexpected that Jaehaerys took a step back.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Because," Robert managed between chuckles, "during the Greyjoy Rebellion, ten years ago, Ned told me the same bloody thing." His laughter died down, but the smile remained. "Said I didn't know the real Lyanna either. Said I'd built her up in my head into something she never was." He shook his head. "Maybe he was right. Maybe we all were fighting for ghosts we never really knew."
"What will you do with my children?" Robert asked after a moment of silence, his voice growing serious. "They're innocent in all this. Whatever quarrel you have with me, they had no part in it."
"Neither had my siblings, nor Queen Elia Martell. Blood for Blood, Robert Baratheon."
If you want to Read 9 More Chapters Right Now. Search 'Drinor Patreon' in Google and Click the First LINK