The Birth of Dragons

Ser Jaime Lannister

Jaime was having difficulty sleeping. The ghosts of the battle were haunting him again. This had happened to him before, during the Greyjoy rebellion, and before that during the little uprising that Lord Grandison had staged. He could remember the faces of the dead, the men he had slain, they would come before him demanding an answer for his sins. All his guilt would come spilling forth then, making him toss and turn, until he could do nothing more than wake up and train. It was no different here, Harrenhal was filled with ghosts for Jaime. This was where he had been made a knight of the Kingsguard, where he had sworn a vow that he had broken years later, and the guilt gnawed at him, still, a festering wound. There was nothing for it, he got up and changed into armour and moved about. Harrenhal was a towering fortress, but it was half empty and broken, Shella Whent had left the moment word reached her of his march. The crimson lion of Lannister flew atop the ramparts with the crowned stag and crowned lion of the King next to it. His father was waiting for him when he got to the great hall, his father looked at him and he sat down.

Lord Tywin was a strong and towering man, who was balding, or rather had been balding before he had decided to shave off his hair. He had golden whiskers, and epitomised the lion of Lannister better than any man Jaime had ever met. His father looks at him for a long moment then speaks, his voice deep and commanding. "Word has come from our forces near Riverrun. There have been two battles. Daven is dead, and Kevan has been taken prisoner."

It takes Jaime a moment to process this information, his armour creaking slightly as he moves. "How did this happen?" Daven was rash, but not as rash as Jaime himself was, and uncle Kevan, well uncle Kevan was father's right hand.

Lord Tywin had long ago learned how to mask his emotions, if there was any anger there about Daven's death, or fear over the capture of uncle Kevan, he hid it well, his voice was calm when he replied. "Both did as they were bid. Daven led a burning campaign across the northern Riverlands and forced Stark to meet him in the whispering wood. They fought, Daven came very close to killing Stark, but was cut down by Stark men. His army was broken, as was intended."

"You intended for Daven to die?" Jaime asks shocked.

"He died of his own foolishness. But his army was meant to be broken. Stark needed to belief he could win, and now he does. He will make more mistakes now." Tywin responds simply.

Jaime finds himself marvelling at just how cold his father sounds in that moment. And he also says a quick prayer for Daven, he had liked his cousin, the man was far more competent than his father, the bumbling Ser Stafford. "What about Uncle Kevan?"

At this, Lord Tywin grimaces, or does something similar. "That was unfortunate. The siege of Riverrun was going mostly well, they were close to breaking, but then Stark emerged and fought Kevan. He was penned in between Stark's army and Riverrun itself. It was only natural that he would be captured."

"What does this mean for our plans then?" Jaime asks.

His father is silent, states. "If Stark has any sense, he will offer to trade Kevan for his uncle Benjen and for his father. We shall accept such an offer and peace will be made between the two realms. We can then focus on Stannis."

Jaime nods, seeing the sense in what his father says, but remembering also, the boy he met during the royal visit to Winterfell. Robb Stark is not someone he thinks would bend easily. That is what prompts him to ask. "What if the boy does not make such an offer?"

His father looks at him as if such a thing is inconceivable, though, he then goes onto show that he has thought of it, for he responds. "Then we shall make him regret that decision. Gregor Clegane is ready with his men to go pillaging around the Riverlands, as is Armory Lorch. Once they realise just how badly damaged their lands are getting, the Riverlords will beg for release to get back to their own lands to protect them. If Stark is like his father, he will send some of his own men to aid them. You will march out from Harrenhal, and fight them, and break them."

Jaime thinks of what he had to do in the aftermath of the Grandison rebellion, and he quickly takes a sip of water. "Very well. What do we do until Stark sends someone to negotiate a peace?" he hopes to the seven that the boy has more of his mother in him than his father.

"Until then, we shall prepare and analyse what we know of Stark and his army, as well as that of the Rivermen." His lord father responds. There is a brief silence, in which Jaime feels as though he is a little boy again, with his father sizing him up, assessing him to see if he has lived up to the expectations of such a great house, and man. Then his father speaks, and the silence is broken. "Once we are done with this fighting here, you shall return to King's Landing and ask the King to free you from your vows in the Kingsguard, and you will resume your place as my heir."

Jaime hears the words, but he does not believe them. "That has never happened before. No member of the Kingsguard has ever been allowed to leave alive before."

"That was under the Targaryens. The Targaryens are no more." His father responds simply.

Before Jaime can respond, a messenger comes hurrying into the hall, the man is red in the face, panting, he takes a long time to get himself in order, and then he speaks words, Jaime had thought he'd never hear. "My lord, word from the capital. Eddard Stark has been executed." Jaime closes his eyes briefly, wondering who it is who has actually died, and how to protect Cersei now.