Chapter Text
Tyrion
Tyrion found no sleep, but drowned one cup after another. He instructed a servant girl to put the poison into his nephew’s wine, before sending her out of the city. She cried at first, probably because he deprived her of a good position at court, but she left without complained after he had handed her bag of gold coins. At least his sweet sister will not be able to strangle the girl to death.
I used her as my executioner, he thought and was surprised how ashamed he felt. Did Jaime feel like his after he slew the Mad King?
Lord Varys had told him that is a slow poison, barely noticeable, but without painful side effects.
Once he had drowned the second flagon of wine the first streaks of dawn were showing on the distant horizon. Going by the latest reports Robb Stark should be only a days’ ride away.
The last time he was informed about Robb’s Stark position he was just a days’ ride away.
The thought filled him with fear.
What will Robb Stark do with a demon monkey like me, he wondered not for the first time. Cut off my head or send me to the Watch?
Both prospects frightened him and not even the wine helped to dull his senses. For that brief moment he regretted that he didn’t go with Lord Varys.
Why did I have to behave like brave fool?
“My Lord Hand! My Lord Hand!” an agitated voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Tyrion put the flagon of wine away and waddled to the door to open it.
It was a page boy, dressed in gold and crimson, his face pale like candlewax.
“What happened?” he asked the boy, trying to appear bothered by this early intrusion. „Has Lord Stark finally arrived?”
“No,” the boy stuttered. „The King…he is not breathing…the Queen mother found him…please come at once, my Lord Hand.”
Tyrion tried to appear put off by his words.
“Isn’t it a bit early to spread such nonsense, boy?” he asked. The poor boy paled even more, tears glinting in his eyes. Tyrion pitied the boy, but he needed to get through with this mummery.
I need to open the gates and surrender the city as peacefully as possible.
“My Lord Hand,” the boy repeated and dipped his head. „I am not lying…the Queen mother demands your presence.”
“Very well,” Tyrion replied and tried to sound annoyed. „I will come along…”
“Please, my Lord Hand,” the boy replied and led the way, relief showing on his face. „Please come along.”
Tyrion exhaled deeply and braced himself for his sister’s reaction. She had hated him since the moment he was born, but she was still his sister, his blood and he killed her son.
I am Kinslayer and a Kinglslayer, cursed by the gods.
“My poor boy! My poor boy!” he heard his sister’s agitated voice, through the half-open door.
As he entered he found her kneeling on the bed, garbed in a white nightgown and her hair open, falling around her flushed face like a veil of gold.
Fat tears were rolling down her cheeks as she continued to cradle her golden boy’s head in her lap. Joff was a cunt, but now he looked almost peaceful.
“Sister,” he addressed her as gently as possible, but she continued to ignore him. „Sister!”
Finally, her jade green eyes met his, burning with the familiar hatred.
“They killed him…I am sure this was the work of the little whore and her Targaryen bastard…somehow she was able to murder my sweet boy.”
Then she pressed Joff’s unmoving head against her chest and continued to place kisses to his brow while humming a soft lullaby.
“Does it matter who killed him?” he asked weakly. ”The war is lost and our King is dead. Tommen and Myrcella are captives of the rebels. We need to make peace with Robb Stark his brother.”
The moment his words had left his mouth his sister froze, her jade eyes narrowing in anger. Realization showed on her face as she moved away from the bed, towering above him like a mountain.
“Peace?” she asked, her voice brimming with anger. „We still have the Wildfire…I will blow them all to hell…”
“You will do no such thing, sweet sister,” he said and moved backwards to the door. Then he winked with his hand and a handful of gold cloaks move inside to stand behind him.
“My sister is not feeling very well and the King needs to be attended to by the Silent Sisters. Please escort her back to her chambers,” he told them and they obeyed without question. Yet it was not loyalty that bound them to him, but promised gold. Gold he didn’t have, but even the Gold Cloaks seem to trust in the motto of House Lannister “A Lannister always pays his debts”. Or maybe they didn’t want to fight the fearsome Robb Stark. His Lord Father spread nasty rumours about the bloody deeds of the rebels. Most of it was nonsense, but the smallfolk was easily frightened.
“Let go of me!” Cersei exclaimed angrily as they escorted her outside. „Let go of me! I will have all your heads!
“And tell Maester Pycelle to attend to her,” he told the captain of the Gold Cloaks, who lowered his head to inquire about the Kingsguard.
“What shall be done with them? Shall we keep them imprisoned?”
“For now,” Tyrion replied. „Until the city is surrendered. They would only hinder my actions.”
“Of course, Lord Hand.”
Tyrion smiled.
“No, it is me who has to thank you,” he told the man and smiled. „Whatever happens now, I am thankful for you service.”
Then Tyrion got his last flagon of wine and continued his watch.
…
Robb
Taking King’s Landing proved easier than anticipated. He expected a long siege and butchery, but when they had arrived at the gates, an entourage of Gold Cloaks had greeted them, a white banner fluttering above their heads.
The King is dead. The city is yours, they had told him. And the Lord Hand awaits you in the Red Keep.
It was Princess Daenerys who convinced him to enter the city, though he ordered her to stay behind, much to her dislike. Jon would murder him if he allowed her to get harmed.
I will call you inside once I can ensure your safety, he had told her and now he was riding through the city he only knew from his father’s war stories. The last sack of King’s Landing was bloody, but Robb had no intention to repeat history.
Along the way, the inhabitants of the city were poking their heads out of the windows or observed them from the hidden corners of their houses. Yet he saw no children or young women out in the streets.
They are afraid, he knew and wondered if they also heard about the nonsensical rumours Tywin Lannister spread about him. Maybe they expect me to ride on Greywind.
“We are nearly there,” Garlan Tyrell remarked his face serious as ever. „But it is hard to believe that the King is dead. How did it happen?”
Robb shrugged his shoulders. He wanted to kill the little cunt himself and pay witness as his life drained out of his body. Now he was not even able to revenge his father. Someone did it for him.
“I don’t know, Ser Garlan,” he admitted honestly and tried to hide his disappointment. „But I have my suspicions…”
The rest of the way they bridged in eerie silence, the movement of their horses the only sound.
The Red Keep proved as impressive as he expected, but Robb felt little awe.
Here my father spent his last weeks, he knew and felt the sudden urge to tear down the entire castle.
He doubted Jon would care, but others would. They support him because of his Targaryen heritage and not because he has Stark blood running through his veins.
It made him wonder what his Lord Father would think of his actions. Would he be happy? Would he be angry with him that he didn’t support Stannis?
Not that it mattered. Stannis Baratheon was dead and gone. At least that is what they heard.
“My Lord Stark,” a familiar voice greeted him as they stepped into the infamous throne room. He knew this place only from descriptions, but the Iron Throne proved even uglier than the paintings he saw in his books.
It was a grizzly chair made of melted blades and sharp edges.
The chair looked anything but comfortable. Robb’s first order would be to melt it down and replace it with a more comfortable chair.
Yet Jon is the King and not him. He will have to decide.
“My Lord Stark,” Lord Tyrion’s voice called out to him again. He hadn’t changed much over the last year, but the dark rings underlining his eyes spoke of sleepless nights. „It is a pleasure to see you again, though I wish it were different circumstances that brought us together.”
“Indeed,” Robb agreed and stopped in front of the massive stone steps, leading up the ugly chair everyone wanted to possess. „Though I wish the circumstances were better…”
Then he turned around and met the dwarf’s gaze.
“I heard the King is dead,” he said at last. It was only subtle, but he believed to read shame on his face. „How did it happen? I expected a long siege?”
The dwarf swallowed hard, before giving his answer.
“The Maester said it was poison…the girl who brought him the wine fled the city. We think it was the work of an assassin. Not that it matters. The war is lost and I am prepared to face your judgement. Yet I urge you to show mercy to my niece and nephew. They are good children that shouldn’t be punished for their parent’s actions.”
“Your niece and nephew are well,” Robb assured him. „Nobody intends to harm them. I am not your father, who butchers children in their cribs. You will be able to meet them soon.”
“And my sister?” the dwarf asked. „What will happen to her?”
“I can’t answer that question,” Robb replied vaguely. „That is for Jon to decide. I am not the King.”
“And my brother?” the dwarf asked, fear apparent on his face. „Is he well?”
“He recovered from his wounds. I don’t know what Jon will do with him, but I assume he will offer him to take the Black. He is a capable swordsman and the Night’s Watch is always in need of good recruits. I am aware of his actions during the sack of King’s Landing and contrary to my Lord Father I don’t think it dishonourable to slay a madman.”
The dwarf seemed to sense the meaning of his words and gave him a pained smile.
“Well, nobody ever said that sons have to follow into their father’s footsteps. I am not like my father and you are not like yours…,” he trailed off.
“No, you are not,” Robb replied. „But I have to put you under house arrest. My brother will thank you for your actions, but that doesn’t mean his allies will treat your courteously.”
“I never expected that, my Lord,” the dwarf replied. „I never expected that...”
“Robb!” a familiar voice interrupted their conversation. „It pleases me to see your face.”
It was Princess Daenerys in company of Ser Garlan Tyrell.
The Princess smiled, but her pale complexions showed her discomfort. It seems this place unsettled her just as much as him.
“Princess Daenerys…Lord Tyrell,” he greeted and lowered his head, before shifting his attention back to Lord Tyrion. The dwarf graced the Princess with a weak smile and dipped his head. „We heard about your survival. I am glad that the rumours turned out to be true. The way my nephew treated you was not right.”
“There is no need for you to apologize,” The Princess assured the dwarf.”Joff’s actions were his own. I wished I could have seen his downfall, but it seems the gods had other plans.”
“The gods are cunts, Princess,” the dwarf agreed. „The gods are cunts.”
Shortly after, the dwarf left them in company of Ser Garlan.
Now only Daenerys and Robb remained, a moment of silence stretching between them.
“The chair is as ugly as I imagined,” Robb remarked and earned himself a chuckle.
“True,” she replied. „But my ancestor Aegon Targaryen thought that no King should sit comfortable. I doubt Jon will like his new seat very much.”
Robb couldn’t help but to laugh.
“Nothing that can’t be solved by a comfortable cushion,” Robb replied.
“True,” Princess agreed. „Speaking of Jon…I know you will not approve, but I would like to ride back to Harrenhall to meet him along the way. If I stay here it will take weeks before I am able to see him. And now that Joff is gone…I want to tell him.”
He knew what she meant and couldn’t bring himself to deny her wish. He also longed to see Roslin, his siblings and Winterfell.
“I will arrange an escort for you, Princess.”
…
Daenerys
Her heart skipped a beat as the crooked towers of Harrenhall emerged through the thick mist. Far off in the distance she saw the God’s Eye glittering in the first rays of sunshine breaking through the grey clouds. It had been raining for the last two days and today was the first day of sunshine.
“We are finally here,” she muttered to herself and climbed from her horse.
“Princess Daenerys,” Loras Tyrell greeted her along the way, dressed in polished armour and a snow-white cloak draped around his shoulders. She saw the shadow of a bruise on his cheek and brow, but he looked otherwise unharmed. „Your return is a surprise.”
“Ser Loras,” she returned his greeting and moved closer to place a kiss on his cheek. The young man looked slightly surprised by her actions, but didn’t complain. He only smiled and kissed her hand.
“Where is Jon?” she asked, coming straight to the point.
“You will find him with the Maester,” the young man explained, a smile curling on his lips. „I will show you the way.”
“That would please me, Ser Loras,” she replied and off they were making their way through the ruins of Harrenhall. It was here that her brother Rhaegar crowned Lyanna Stark and started the downfall of her family, though she tried not to judge him for his actions. She wasn’t there and she knew too little about his reasons.
No, they all needed to make peace with the past if they wanted to move into a brighter future.
Whatever reasons Rhaegar had, she couldn’t help but to forgive him.
The more they walked the bigger Harrenhall appeared to her. Finally, Ser Loras led her up a whirling staircase to access one of the many towers.
They had to climb up large stone steps, before Ser Loras opened a door which led into a small, but bright room.
A gasp escaped her after she took in Jon’s state.
His face was littered with bruises and his arm was heavily bandaged.
Yet that didn’t dim the happiness displayed on his face.
“Daenerys,” he said. „I didn’t think you would come here…,” he trailed off.
“I heard the battle was bloody,” she replied and pulled her travelling cloak from her shoulders. „And I wanted to see you. Robb was kind enough to arrange an escort,” she added and took a glance at the Maester working on some sort of paste.
“You neglected to tell me about your wounds,” she remarked and settled down on a chair nearby the armchair Jon was seated in.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” he explained and gave her an apologetic look. Then he leaned over and his unharmed hand enclosed hers. „It is half as bad as it looks. I fell from my horse…,” he trailed off.
“I know,” she confirmed and felt suddenly tongue-tied. „But the war is over…Joff is dead.”
Jon nodded his head in confirmation.
“I heard about it…Robb sent a raven,” he confirmed, a smile curling on his lips. „It is finally over…strangely I don’t feel much satisfaction. I wanted to kill him myself.”
She nodded and tightened her grip on his arm.”Robb shares your sentiment, but there is more…happy news.”
“Happy news?” he asked, his face lightened by a smile. Then he turned to the Maester.
“Would you leave us?”
“Of course, your Grace,” the elderly man replied and packed his belongings, before closing the door behind him.
“Now...,” Jon prodded gently and gave her a curious look. „Tell me about the happy news?”
“I am with child…”
He froze for a moment, his eyes widening in disbelief. A smile washed over his lips and lightened up his sombere Stark face.
“Truly?”
She couldn’t help but to laugh.
“Unless the Maester I consulted is a fool, but I am quite sure. I have never been with child, but I recall Lady Lysa’s many failed pregnancies.”
“Don’t speak about that woman…,” he told her and straightened himself. „How far along are you?”
“A few moons,” she replied and the smile on his lips was exchanged with a frown.
„It will take moons before we can get married. I have yet to name a new High Septon and there are so many other things I will have to think about…,” he trailed off and fell silent.
He pondered over the problem, but when she saw the smile curling on his lips she knew that he found a solution.
“The Isle of the Faces is not far from here,” he explained. „And I doubt it would be hard to find a Septon to wed us…all we need is a witness.”
She grinned from one ear to the other, excitement washing over her.
“I think Ser Barristan would be up to the task, don’t you think?”
Jon laughed and leaned down to place a kiss on her lips.
“Aye, I am sure Ser Barristan would agree.”
Their travel to the God’s Eye took them nearly half a day. It was way beyond midday when they readied the boat and led into the water.
Ser Barristan and her paddled the boat through the water, towards the island surrounded by rings of stone and trees as ancient as mankind. Jon didn’t like that, but there was little he could do. He was able to move his arm, but the Maester forbade it.
“We are almost there, your Grace,” Ser Barristan told him as he moved the boat towards island, looming before them.
“Take my arm,” She offered to Jon.
He frowned and followed along, obviously unhappy that they were coddling him.
“I am no child,” he complained, but the smile on his lips told her that he was merely joking. „But I will make an exception for you.”
“Good to hear,” she replied and helped him out of the boat. He stumbled along, his face a grimace of pain as he moved his right foot.
They made their way up another path of steps, the whispering of the trees following them.
Daenerys found it calming, her gaze searching for the Septon. He informed them in his raven that he will await them there.
“I think there is our man,” Ser Barristan remarked, an amused smile playing on his lips. The Septon was an elderly man, dressed in wide flowing robes.
“I received your raven, your Grace,” he told Jon and lowered his head in greeting. „I hope I am to your satisfaction.”
“Of course,” Jon confirmed and pulled a bag of gold coins out of his vest. „I thank you for your efforts.”
“I am thanking you,” the elderly man replied and hid the bag of gold coins in a pocket sewn into his robes.
Then he smoothed his robes and graced them with a smile.
“Who will give the bride away?”
“That will be my task,” Ser Barristan replied and offered his arm to her. She smiled and took it.
“And for the groom?” the Septon asked.
“This will have to do.”
“Very well,” the Septon confirmed. „Then come along.”
The ceremony was simple. The Septon recited the usual blessing and songs, asking them to repeat the vows while the old man bound their hands together.
Together they repeated the vows and sealed the promise with a kiss. There was no clapping to be heard, no silken cloaks or the smell of incense filling her nostrils.
When all was said and done, Jon turned to Ser Barristan, determination showing on his face.
“Ser Barristan…Would you mind leaving us for a while?”
Realization showed on the old man’s face. It was hard for Daenerys to keep a straight face, but Ser Barristan kept his composure.
“Very well,” he said and cleared his throat. „I will guard our boat, your Grace.”
“Do that Ser Barristan,” Jon replied and pulled her along, off into the bushes. The underwood was thick and after a while they found a clearing, a massive weirwood tree looming over them.
Daenerys was even more amused when Jon let turned around to search for possible onlookers.
“I think you embarrassed Ser Barristan,” she told him, a rumble of laughter leaving her mouth.
“He has been serving as a member of the Kingsguard for years…I doubt he is easily fazed,” he explained and smoothed his hand over her silver locks.
“True,” she replied. „But someone could see us...I don’t think it would make a good impression,” she countered, but Jon cut her off with a kiss.
The sweet taste of his lips on hers made her forget about the world around her and soon she was helping him. Carefully, she pulled the cloak from his shoulders. He helped her with hers just as eagerly.
Mouth on mouth they tumbled to the ground, the grass soft and wet.
Quickly, Daenerys helped him with the straps of her dress. Moments later he was kissing her breasts and continued to push up her dress.
“Someone could see us!” she chided him and grinned.
“Well, then he can tell his grandchildren that he saw the King humping in the woods,” he replied and pushed the gown further up her hips. ”A grand tale for sure!
Daenerys laughed and lay back down in the grass, the sky above her a silken blanket of blue.
His touch between her legs made her want to cry out, but she knew that Ser Barristan was standing not far away, guarding their boat.
In her distress she grabbed his mane of dark hair, fearing that she might have torn out a few locks along the way.
“So much for peace and quiet,” he remarked, an amused smile curling on his lips as he lifted his head to look at her.
She slapped him for his stupid remark.
He laughed while she tried to calm her breathing and closed her eyes for a brief moment. The sunshine felt pleasant on her skin and the whisper of the wind sounded almost like a lullaby.
Then she opened her eyes and looked up at him, her hand ruffling through his hair before moving downwards to open the laces of his breeches.
She kissed him again and felt him, hard and pressed against her thighs.
“Jon,” she gasped as guided him inside her. He groaned loudly, his head falling on her shoulder as he started to move inside her.”Quiet.”
“Quiet,” he repeated, his voice barely a whisper as he kissed her again.
…