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Chapter 4: Ch4 Madness and Loathing in King's LandingChapter Text

Chapter 4 Madness and Loathing in King's Landing

Joffrey Baratheon

He screamed to his feet, a screaming was echoing through his ears. It took him a second to recognize that he was the one that was screaming. He stopped and started gulping down air.

The strain and burning in his throat was gone, he sucked in air greedily, in a daze.

The door to his room burst open, the Hound stepped in, with a hand on his sword looking around for a threat, but all he saw was Joffrey standing in his night clothes gasping for breath.

"Your Grace?" the Hound asked in strange voice.

Joffrey tried to gather his thoughts quickly trying to understand what was happening, "The damned Imp! He poisoned me!" he screeched angrily, "I'll have him torn limb from limb!"

The Hound gave him an unreadable look, before he turned and closed the door, finally turning back to Joffrey, "You remember then, do you?" his tone had a very strange lilt to it.

Joffrey sneered angrily at the Hound's stupidity, "Of course I remember! How can I forget..." he trailed off suddenly remembering something else. Something from the Battle of Blackwater Bay.

Fuck the Kingsguard! Fuck the City! Fuck the King!

The Hound advanced on him menacingly, "I'm very fucking happy that you remember," he grabbed Joffrey, effortlessly lifting him up off the ground.

"Release me! I am the KING!" Joffrey screamed in a panic.

"Fuck the King," the Hound retorted simply. His scar stretched into a cruel and satisfied smile, "This is for the Little Bird."

Joffrey began screaming as his whole world turned into pain.

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Jaime Lannister

His eyes opened. He stared around a for a moment tying to get his bearings.

"It worked. Seven Hells...it worked," Jaime said with a sigh of relief. He clenched both of his hands, the feel of the silk covers in his right hand, relishing the feeling for a moment.

He pushed the feeling aside and sat up quickly, twisting around to get his bearing and figure out where he was now.

He froze as he suddenly recognized who's chambers he was in. With a deathly slowness he turned to his side.

She was there...

Sleeping peacefully, her long hair flowing again, and entwined in her covers, his twin slept with a small contented smile on her face.

The ghostly image of the last time he'd seen her flashed in front of his eyes; Eyes wide and going red, face red then purple contorted in a rictus of madness and despair as he'd squeezed the life out of her.

He blinked the image away, breathing heavily as his eyes once more focused on the Cersei that was sleeping next to him now. He cast his eyes away and scanned the room trying to get his bearings.

The remains of a meal sat on a table, their clothes were scattered across the room. Everything was so familiar, this scene was so familiar. It took him a second to recognize this night. This had been one of their last nights together before the Fat Man had taken them North to make Ned Stark the Hand of the King.

"Fuck..." he whispered under his breath. "He's already dead."

Jon Arryn was already dead, the plan had them coming back before Lysa poisoned him. Obviously something had happened after he'd died.

Well there goes the plan, he thought in annoyance. What to do? What to do?

Jaime just sat there thinking hard. He frowned, he knew he was out of his depth, thinking had always been Tyrion's area of expertise. He knew he had to act...but without making things worse. Time stretched on as he stewed in his thoughts.

Next to him, Cersei stirred in her sleep, moaned and then turned over, the covers falling away from her back, exposing her soft skin. She looked so beautiful and peaceful.

Kill her, the realistic part of him screamed mentally.

Jaime clenched his jaw, thinking of the perversions she would visit on the realm in her madness. Aerys, she was not. Maegor she was not.

She was worse...

He got out of the bed and circled to her side, going down on his knees to look her in the face. To look his twin in the face, the other half of his soul.

She looked so innocent now. Not like the creature she had become after the children's deaths...no. No, that wasn't true. It all just a facade.

Melara Hetherspoon.

Bran had shown him the truth. Cersei had always been a monster. She'd just been leading him around by his own cock since the beginning.

He reached out his hands, intending to strangle her a second time. His hands were shaking as they inched closer to her neck. He tried to stop the shaking but he couldn't. His hands stopped so close to her face he could feel her breath on them.

His breathing was haggard now, as he stared at her unconscious face.

I can't do it...not again.

Once was hard enough...he couldn't do it a second time.

He turned away and dressed quickly, fleeing the room. Leaving Cersei sleeping, undisturbed and alive.

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What to do? What to do? Echoed through Jaime's head as he stalked the halls of the Red Keep. The whole plan had been put on its head. They were supposed to come back before Jon Arryn died. Events would have been more controllable in those circumstances.

Unfortunately, walking around had confirmed for him just when he was. Redcloaks, Baratheon men and a few men in Tyrell finery. He could see them spread around the Keep...but no Arryn guards.

Lysa had already fled the Red Keep and so had Stannis. Everything was so precarious now, and it would only get even worse.

The servants also seemed to be moving around in a more harried manner than he remembered. One moved to the corridor ahead of Jaime. The servant recognized Jaime, blanched and then turned and ran off in the other direction.

What the fuck? What is going on now?

"I've been looking for you, Ser Jaime." a familiar voice called out.

Jaime turned and found himself face to face with Ser Bronn of the Blackwater.

"Bronn, good to see you," Jaime nodded in greeting. A familiar face would be helpful now.

Bronn had an unreadable expression on his face, "Is it?"

Jaime frowned, of course it...wait, "How did you get into the Red Keep?" he asked eagerly, a sense of dread building in gut, "Did you use one of the secret passages?"

Bronn shrugged, "I was going to. Then the gate guards recognized me as Ser Bronn of the Blackwater and let me in."

Jaime's jaw dropped in surprise.

Bronn raised an eyebrow at him, "Based on your reaction, I'm guessing this wasn't a part of the plan to make a couple of nobodies remember?"

Jaime shook his head still trying to come to grips with this unexpected revelation, "No. That wasn't a part of the plan." He was reeling and a small part of him didn't want to believe Bronn.

Movement caught his eye and turned to see two Redcloaks at the end of the corridor.

"You two! Come here!" cried out Jaime at two Redcloaks that were passing by.

Startled the men came quickly to Jaime's side.

"Do you remember?" he demanded of them.

The first one gave him a confused look, "Remember what, Ser Jaime?"

Jaime mentally dismissed that one and turned to the second one.

The second man had a very disturbed look on his face, he started to tremble a little as he spoke.

"I was with you on the way back from Highgarden...I remember...it was a second Field of Fire," the Redcloak admitted fearfully, "But it was just a dream...wasn't it?" His companion shot him a bewildered look but remained silent.

Seven hells! Fuck!

"So what happened? What changed?" asked Bronn.

The Redcloaks were forgotten as he turned to Bronn, "No idea, everything was going according to plan before I died." Jaime admitted. Too many possibilities were jumping through his mind, and he had no idea how to react to all of this, whatever the extent of this was? Who else remembered? He blanched, did Cersei remember? That would be bad...very bad.

The sound of heavy footsteps and the jingling of heavy armour, came towards them. Jaime welcomed the distraction and turned to face the sound.

The Hound was coming down the corridor now, his eyes darting left and right in suspicion and with his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. The Hound looked like he was ready for a fight.

The Hound looked at the small group and eyed them with suspicion and derision as he slowly approached. As he neared, Jaime say that there was blood splayed across his armour.

Jaime's hand slipped down to grasp his sword.

"Clegane?"

The Hound didn't answer immediately, he cast a dubious look at Bronn and a dismissive sneer at the two Redcloaks.

Jaime remembered how Clegane had died, fighting on the Silence, side by side with Brienne and Arya, ending the perversions of Euron Greyjoy...too many people died that day, a dark despondent part of his psyche mourned. But here was the Hound, back, and not limping anymore. At his most powerful.

"What the fuck?" the Hound finally asked.

Jaime snorted, taking reassurance from the same foul mouthed manner that the Hound always used.

"Good to see you remember Clegane," Jaime retorted with a smug smile.

"Aye I remember! I remember that damned Ironborn cunt and his fucking mutes!" Clegane said manically. He paused and looked unsure for a moment. "Euron fucking Greyjoy got a lucky hit in."

Jaime nodded, "I wasn't there but that's what I heard. He killed you before he was gutted," he took a deep a breath, "You weren't the only loss that day," he finished gravely.

The Hound's scowl intensified and he clenched his teeth in anger.

"Glad to see you remember and are as foul as usual," added Bronn lightly.

Clegane rolled his eyes, "I wasn't the only one that remembered, the little shit remembered everything."

Jaime froze. Joffrey...suddenly he knew where the blood on Clegane's armour came from.

He'd been avoiding thinking about his firstborn. Joffrey had been spoiled completely by Cersei. His actions as King had marked him as perverted as the Mad King. The cruelties that marked the beginning of his reign had been too reminiscent of Aerys, and they would have only gotten worse with time...but Olenna Tyrell had made sure that worse never happened.

But now, he was alive and back. And...a problem.

A sadness settled on Jaime as he realised that he couldn't save him.

A plan began to form in his mind. The original plan had been for Tyrion to manipulate things in the Westerlands after convincing Uncle Kevan to join him. The two of them together could have manipulated father to a better position for them all.

Tyrion...he would know what to do.

He turned quickly, to the two Redcloaks that had been standing at attention the whole time.

"You! Find Captain Vylarr, have him gather the men, quietly, we're riding to Casterly Rock now," he turned to the second man, "You get to the stables get all the horses ready!"

The Redcloaks ran off to obey him and he turned to Clegane, "Get Tommen, meet us at the stables," he turned Bronn, "Raid the treasury, gold always helps with sudden trips. Avoid any Baratheon men."

Clegane nodded and headed off in a brisk pace, but Bronn hesitated.

"And when we get to Casterly Rock...maybe I can get my castle?" Bronn asked pointedly.

"Talk to Tyrion, he's in charge now," Jaime retorted.

Jaime rushed off leaving a thoughtful Bronn behind, as he ran to get his armour and then do his part of the new plan.

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He entered the antechamber of Myrcella's room and gave a few words to the princess's faithful Septa that was tasked with watching over the sleeping princess. A Westerlands woman that was loyal to House Lannister. With a few quick and urgent words, he had her up and in a frenzy preparing Myrcella's clothes and travel wear.

He left the woman behind as he entered Myrcella's sleeping camber. He saw her sleeping peacefully there, entwined in her covers, and a part of him tried very hard not to think of the last time that he'd seen. He banished the image of her bloodied form laying lifeless in his arms on the boat leaving Dorne.

He shook off his haze and stepped quickly to her side, sitting down on the bed. He paused for a moment and stroked her hair as his emotions swirled and danced in his gut.

"Myrcella," he whispered eventually, gently shaking her awake.

Myrcella's eyes flew open and she blinked furiously before focusing on Jaime's face. She relaxed as she recognized him and gave him a small smile.

"Father."

A part of him ached and he shook his head, "No, it's Uncle Jamie. You have to wake up now."

Myrcella blinked in surprise and twisted around in surprise looking around her.

"It's alright sweetheart, but you have to get up now." Jaime uttered trying to calmly cajole her to full awareness.

The girl sat up warily, a strange look in eyes. "Father," she repeated.

Jamie shook his head and smiled at her, "You need to wake up, I'm not Robert."

"No. Father." she said stressing the word and giving him a semi amused smile.

Something clicked in Jaime's head and he went white in shock as his heart skipped a couple of beats. "You...remember?" the words came out as barely a whisper.

Myrcella nodded, "Dorne. We were on a ship going home to mother." she paused and gave him a dazzling smile, "We were talking, then I hugged you...I was so happy," she stopped and frowned before continuing, "And then...then I felt so lightheaded." She twisted her head around to gaze around her room and looked at her child hands. "Is this a dream?" she asked in a lost voice.

The guilt wracked Jaime's chest, "You...you died. Ellaria poisoned you."

Myrcella shot him a sharp look.

"It doesn't matter. You're alive now, we're all alive now, but we have to go now. We have to escape." Jaime said forestalling any questions, picking her up and bearing his returned daughter out the room before she could say anything else.

He wanted to savor the moment and enjoy it, Myrcella had been given back to him and things would be better for her...provided they could defeat the Night's King.

That didn't matter now, first they had to get out of the Red Keep and get to Casterly Rock.

Clegane, Bronn, Joffrey, some of the Redcloaks...and now Myrcella. They all remembered.

Who else remembers?

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Robert Baratheon

Robert groaned and turned over in bed, and with a startled yell, he found himself face first on the hard and cold floor. He groaned again and twisted himself around to sit up. He rubbed his face, feeling his, now, tender nose.

The pain was almost nonexistent nothing like his belly. His head was clearer than it had been for a while now, since Grand Maester Pycelle had last given him milk of the poppy. Instinctively a hand went to his belly. He froze as he felt no pain there, he searched for the wounds the boar's tusks had gouged there, he found nothing.

Robert blinked, "What a fucking strange dream...done in by boar?" he snorted in derision, "Seven Hells. What a way for the Demon of the Trident to die. Too fucking slow to spear a damn boar. Gods..." He shook his head willing the strange dream away.

The door to his chambers opened and in strode one of his Kingsguard, sword at the ready.

"Your Grace, is everything alright?" asked Ser Mandon Moore, looking around the room, searching for a threat.

"Well it took you long enough! Don't just stand there like a fucking halfwit, help me up!" Robert crowed angrily.

Ser Mandon Moore stood there with what was for him a very uncharacteristically thoughtful look on his face. Slowly he put his sword away and moved towards Robert. He reached out an arm and helped Robert up off the floor.

Once on his feet, Robert walked towards the table next to his bed. He pulled out a chair and sat heavily. He grabbed a wine jug and raised it up to his lips, gulping heavily from it. With a satisfied sigh he put it back and gave a thunderous burp.

Robert turned back to Ser Mandon, who continued to stare at him with a confused look, on his normally blank face. Mandon Moore had never been one of the smarter of his Kingsguard, much too odd and unlikable, tactless to an extreme in his words, but the man was a terror with a sword. Not as good as Jaime Lannister or Barristan the Bold, but close enough. He was man of little sense, except on the battlefield.

"What?" Robert scowled grumpily as Ser Mandon remained pensive.

Time stretched out, before Ser Mandon finally asked, "Didn't you die? Didn't the boar kill you?"

Robert went white. It was a dream. It didn't happen!

"What in the name of the Seven are you prattling about?" asked Robert shaken by the possibilities. He remembered the boar. How slow he was to lower his spear and take its charge. And the pain...

"You died and Prince Joffrey became King."

Robert blinked rapidly, "I named Ned as Regent." he said quietly, some memories sharpening in his mind's eye. The memory of his deathbed and the pain caressed his psyche.

"Yes your Grace." Ser Mandon nodded.

Robert slouched in his chair, if I died how am I here now? "Am I dead now?"

Ser Mandon didn't answer immediately, instead he started to rub the back of his head with a peculiar expression on his face.

"We may both be dead....I remember there was a battle," Ser Mandon began, "The city was under attack."

Robert looked up sharply, "What?"

"Lord Stannis was rebelling against King Joffrey. His men were attacking the walls."

Robert gaped for a moment before finding words, "Stannis...my brother Stannis? My brother that has a constant hard on for fulfilling his duty was rebelling against his own nephew?"

"Yes, your Grace."

Robert sat back reeling as if Ser Mandon had struck him in the face.

Ser Mandon didn't wait for Robert to recover and continued talking, "Lord Tyrion was the acting Hand, he led us into battle, sallying forth and killing Lord Stannis's men attacking the Mud Gate."

This second blow was just as surprising as the first.

Robert looked up sharply and couldn't believe his ears, "Tyrion...Tyrion Lannister...the Imp...acting Hand? And leading the men into battle? And he actually did battle?" How...why in the Seven Hells did Ned name a Lannister as Hand of the King? And the Imp, of all Lannisters?

"Yes your Grace, I saw him take a man's leg off, before splitting his skull open with his axe," Ser Mandon confirmed.

"Fuck me. I didn't know the Imp had it in him," Robert said in disbelief, respect filling his tone. He turned back to Mandon, "Well? What happened next?"

Again, Ser Mandon had a thoughtful look on his face, "I fulfilled the Dowager Queen's commands." he answered cryptically.

"Which was?" Robert prompted in exasperation.

"The Queen wanted me to ensure that the Hand did not return from the battlefield." Ser Mandon said without blinking.

A coldness spread through Robert, as he looked at Ser Mandon aghast, "Fuck me! Her own brother?! I know that she's always despised him, but Kinslaying?" he took a deep breath, "You killed him?"

"I sliced open his face, but I then I felt a pain and then...then I was here, outside your chambers your Grace," Ser Mandon stated in confusion.

Robert stared for a moment before grabbing the jug of wine and taking another hearty gulp from it.

"How in the Seven Hell's did Ned let all of this happen?" questioned Robert in bewilderment. Did the whole of the Seven Kingdoms go mad after my death?

"King Joffrey had Lord Eddard executed," explained Ser Mandon.

The feelings of confusion he'd been having disappeared. Those feelings from before, paled in comparison to his rising rage, "The little shit did what?!" Robert roared seeing red.

"King Joffrey executed Lord Eddard." repeated Ser Mandon without hesitation.

Wood splintered in Robert's hands as the arms of his chair surrendered to his enraged strength. He rose from his seat and picked it up throwing it across the room in a fit of fury.

Ser Mandon stepped to the side, dodging the chair, but not saying anything.

Robert stood there, his breathing heavy and fury building in him.

Ours is the Fury.

Now more than ever he felt his House's words ringing true. Joffrey, his little shit of a son had executed the man he loved most! The Brother he chose over all others...over his own flesh and blood! All those carefree days in the Eyrie, Jon and all the lessons he'd tried to knock into his own stubborn head while Ned would stand there and mock him with his silence after each mistake. The rebellion, and all the blood they'd shed together for justice. Justice for Lord Rickard, Brandon...Lyanna...all of it undone by Joffrey!

He'd always known that the little shit had been wrong in the head, but this was too much!

Maybe Stannis really had been thinking about duty when he rebelled?

Yes, Stannis would have joined with Renly, they'd have rallied the other Kingdoms against Joffrey and the Westerlands. Tywin Lannister would have supported his grandson no matter what, but two Lords of Winterfell being murdered in succession in King's Landing would not be accepted by the other Lord Paramounts.

Robert turned to Ser Mandon, "So Stannis attacked King's Landing while Renly rallied the kingdoms against the Old Lion?"

Ser Mandon frowned before shaking his head, "Lord Renly with the Tyrells named himself King...at least for a while. He died, they said he was killed by one of his own Kingsguard, a Stormlander, Brienne of Tarth..."

Robert felt dizzy, he reached a hand out and steadied himself on the table.

"....The North and the Riverlands named Robb Stark, the new King in the North and he was fighting Lord Tywin. The Young Wolf was destroying Lord Tywin's armies at every battle. The King in the North wasn't losing."

The dizziness was gone replaced with disbelief as Robert stared opened mouthed at Ser Mandon and the insane words that were spewing forth from his mouth.

Robert staggered away from the table and sat heavily down on the edge of his bed. Renly, dead? The North and Riverlands in open rebellion...no not rebellion they were seceding from the Seven Kingdoms! And Robb Stark...he remembered the boy from Winterfell. He looked more like his mother than Ned. He'd seemed earnest and well mannered but still a green boy. Nothing had really stood out about him. And that boy was beating the Old Lion?

The Seven Kingdoms really did go mad after I died!

He sat there deep in thought, Ser Mandon's revelations twisting and turning in his mind till a distant sound penetrated his haze.

The sound was familiar, it was distant but familiar. There was an urgency attached to his familiarity. It was coming from outside. Grateful for the distraction, he stood up and went out onto his balcony, throwing open the doors and following the noise out. King's Landing was spread out in front of him, the same as always unchanged by whatever state he really was in, whether dead or alive...and it still stank of shit!

It took him a second to recognize the sound. He blanched as the sound finally registered with his already tumultuous mind...the bells of the Great Sept were ringing.

Seven Hells! What other calamity is happening now?

Renly Baratheon

Thrashing woke Renly.

He lurched up, clutching at his chest. Eyes wide and searching for the shadow creature with Stannis's face that had stabbed him.

He quickly froze as he recognized the sight of his private quarters in the Red Keep. He stared about him in a daze till the thrashing that initially awoke him distracted him as it continued next him. He turned to look and froze again in surprise.

Next to him, lay Loras, asleep and thrashing about, his face contorted in pain, dreaming about something...something...unpleasant it appeared.

He stretched out as if in a dream and started to shake Loras awake.

"Loras...wake up...everything's alright," he called out reassuringly, trying to wake Loras from whatever nightmare was gripping him.

Loras jerked at his touch and almost seemed to leap from the bed, he fell heavily onto the ground but didn't stay there. He leapt up shaking himself and jumping from foot to foot, moving away from their bed.

"Gods! The pain! There was so much pain!" Loras gasped with an anguished expression on his face, "She burned us! She burned us all!" Loras cried as he shook.

"She who?" asked Renly encouragingly, as he came off the bed and approached the agitated Loras.

"It was Cersei," Loras's tone oozed such venom as he spoke the name, "She burned us...Father! Margaery! Me...even Ser Kevan!" Loras spat angrily, "The entire sept! The Great Sept! She burned us in green flames!"

Renly paled, green flames? There was only one substance that burned green...Wildfire.

He shook his head.

Cersei burned the Sept of Baelor with Wildfire?! He thought in astonished shock.

He shook himself again and went to the trembling agitated Loras and wrapped his arms around his lover, enjoying the closeness, "It's alright. Whatever happened, you're alright now. I'm here with with you. We're together again...and whatever comes we'll face it together." he whispered into Loras's ear.

He felt the trembling stop and then Loras's arms were clutching at him desperately.

"I missed you Renly," Loras eventually whispered hoarsely.

Renly didn't reply, he just tightened his grip on Loras. They stood there for who knows how long, each one taking strength in the others presence.

Eventually, they separated and Renly gazed at Loras beautiful face. He stroked the face once, before kissing him deeply. They separated again.

A sound interrupted what ever else would have happened.

Renly frowned, what was that?

The sound came again and he watched as Loras flinched and whimpered at the sound.

He recognized the sound now. The Bells of the Great Sept were ringing. Whatever was happening, it was not a dream! Why would the bells be ringing in his dream, there was no purpose to it!

Renly's mind scrambled as he tried to come to terms whatever strange situation he and Loras suddenly found themselves in.

If this wasn't all a dream...

They hadn't been together here since Robert had died. Was it possible that somehow time had pasted backwards? Whatever magic had wrought this...he could take advantage of it.

Renly was Master of Laws and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, he would use all of his power! He would bring the Lannisters to justice before the war could begin anew!

With purpose he let go of Loras, grabbed a cloak, wrapping it around him and covering himself, running to his door. He flung it open and began screaming for his guards.

The men outside hurried to him. They were all Baratheon men with a single man in Tyrell livery. They stood there, tense at his initial tone but ready for his words.

"We've been betrayed by the Lannisters! Gather all the loyal men. Kill all the Redcloaks. Bring me Cersei and Ser Jaime. Joffrey. Myrcella. Tommen. Bring me the children!" Renly angrily commanded his guards. "Spread the word!"

The men sprang away to obey him as Renly went back inside to don his armour.

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Myrcella Baratheon

She didn't understand what was happening.

She didn't know why father was rushing though the Red Keep. She could hear the distant bells of the Great Sept and other noises now. The clanging of metal on metal, like she'd hear in the training yard and at tourneys.

Her septa and two Redcloaks were following behind them as Father carried her, holding her close, she should have relished the feeling, he'd never really done that when she'd been small the first time, Mother had always kept him distant...but it wasn't fun now.

Father and the Redcloaks held their swords at the ready, looking for enemies.

She recognized what was happening. There was fighting going on somewhere in the Red Keep. They'd seen some bodies as they moved. Guards and some servants.

An idle part of her wished she was back at the Water Gardens with Trystane. Those happy moments they'd stolen together, the soft kisses and everything else...

The happy memories crumpled to dust as father's words came back to her. She'd died and Trystane had been alone. What happened after she died? Did he mourn her?

"Ser Jaime!" she heard a voice call out, cutting off her idle musings.

Her view changed as father turned to face the man calling him.

"Ser Jaime! What is happening?" asked Lord Petyr Baelish as he steadily approached. The Master of Coin was an oily man that she'd never liked.

Did he remember as well? She wondered.

She turned to look at father's face and saw a strange look on his face. In the next second, her feet found the floor and father was striding past her towards Baelish.

Father didn't answer him and Baelish didn't manage to say anything more before father buried his sword to the hilt in his stomach.

A gasp of fright escaped Myrcella's mouth, but she quickly stifled it.

She watched as surprise then horror blossomed on Baelish's face as blood suddenly began to dribble out of his mouth, he coughed, splattering blood all over father's golden armour. His mouth moved but no sound came out. With jerk, father pulled out his sword. Baelish collapsed to the ground and lay there gurgling.

"Just to be safe," father said cryptically. He raised up his sword and then brought it down on Baelish's neck.

The gurgling stopped as the head came free from the body, blood pooling around the body and splashing father's armoured boots.

Myrcella stared in astonishment at her father standing there with bloodied sword and a satisfied smile.

Father wiped the blood from his sword and then stepped back to her, gathering her up again before continuing forwards.

Myrcella stared at the satisfied smile on father's face and then looked back at Baelish's cooling corpse in bewilderment as they continued in their trek forwards.

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Father slowed as they neared an intersecting wide corridor. His eyes were wide and he was alert to any danger. There were fallen bodies ahead, Redcloaks and Baratheon men.

Standing amongst the bodies, bloodied sword in hand, stood Barristan the Bold. His white armour splashed with dark blood.

Relief flooded through her. Good old Ser Barristan would help them with all this madness. He turned to face them and as he recognized them, his face hardened.

"Ser Jaime." he said raising his sword, his face and voice blank.

"Ser Barristan." acknowledged father in the same blank tone.

Father put her down and pushed her behind her, sword pointed at Ser Barristan and she realised with a horrified gasp that maybe he wasn't a friend anymore.

People spoke of father's unmatched skill with a longsword. People also spoke of Barristan's unmatched record in battle. Over the years she'd heard people wonder who was the better warrior.

Her horror intensified as she realised that she was probably about to find out.

"You remember," father said, it wasn't a question.

"I remember all the horror your perverted son unleashed on the Seven Kingdoms." he answered in derision.

Father's sword lowered and he seemed to relax, "Good. The Queen sends her regards, she says, no more songs, this time you stay by her side."

Uncertainty flickered in Barristan's eyes and his sword wavered, "What?"

"House Lannister serves House Targaryen once more." Jaime proclaimed to Ser Barristan, his tone smug.

She heard gasps of surprise coming from her septa and the Redcloaks with them. She ignored them.

What?! Father should be the very last man in the world to claim loyalty to the Dragons!

Ser Barristan seemed to hesitate at this, before a very skeptical look appeared on his face, "Kingslayer...You serve Daenerys Stormborn?"

"No, I serve the other Dragon," Jaime stressed the word dramatically.

"What other Dragon? There are no others, wait...Viserys?" Barristan said with annoyance, "He's still alive isn't he? But he's no better than his father!"

"I serve Jon Targaryen, Lyanna Stark's son."

Wait what?

Barristan reeled with that retort, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

Jaime continued, "You would know him better as the Bastard of Winterfell. Lord Stark has been hiding him as such since the Rebellion." He gave Barristan another of his smug smiles.

Out of the shadows suddenly appeared Varys, as quiet as always, "He is not lying Ser Barristan. All of us here are loyal to House Targaryen."

Barristan's sword wavered even more as he looked between them all, surprise etched on his face. A moment passed and then he lowered his sword, "I am Queensguard to Daenerys Targaryen. Ser Jaime....It seems we are not destined to cross swords tonight."

Daenerys Targaryen? She thought in surprise. Barristan the Bold, the loyal and honorable, serving the Mad King's daughter?

"Good, then let's go, I have men preparing horses. We need to leave," Jaime take a hold of her again and strode forward, resuming his anxious stride forward, towards escape.

Myrcella was barely paying attention now, Jon Targaryen? As in Jon Snow? A prince? The rightful King? She remembered the boy from their trip to Winterfell. He'd been so polite and had looked so pretty, she'd wished that he'd been Lord Stark's heir. Then maybe father- no King Robert, could have betrothed them instead of Sansa and Joffrey. She'd liked Sansa, she didn't deserve to be married to Joffrey.

Events continued to play out as Myrcella became lost in her thoughts.

"Stop...this way, there's a passage down here that will take us unseen to the Stables." Varys stated, taking the lead. "You should all hurry. I would very much like to survive this time, if only to spite that damned red priestess." Varys commented off hand, as he led them to the hidden path.

Father reversed his steps and followed Varys, she gave Varys a deep scrutinizing look. The Spider had always been kind to her, his smiles had always seemed genuine when they spoke, but still...

She shuddered.

She mentally reviewed his strange words. After a short while a deep part of her agreed with him, I don't know what red priestess he's talking about but I'd like to survive as well....

xoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxox

Barristan Selmy

He didn't know who drew first, all he knew was that the Red Keep had turned into a battlefield. Redcloaks fought Baratheon men. Baratheon men fought Baratheon men. Redcloaks fought Tyrell men. The smattering of guardsmen from various Stormlands and Crownlands houses fought against everyone and themselves.

It was utter chaos.

And the bells of the Great Sept continued to ring nonstop...

And now...

All he knew was that somehow, he was side by side with Jaime Lannister and the Spider. And if it hadn't been for the Spider, he'd have finally found out who was the better swordsman, him or Ser Jaime.

Gods! How in the name of the Seven did Jaime Lannister end up loyal to House Targaryen? And he said House Lannister was loyal, not just him! What happened after I died in Meereen? Did Grey Worm survive?

He cut off his musings as they reached the end of the tunnel and Varys opened the secret hatch there, before turned back to them.

"This is it, the exit to the stables," he gestured them forward, "You'll be able to get out that way".

Jaime frowned at Varys, "What about you?"

"I still have business in the capital," Varys said without explaining.

"If it's with Baelish, I've already killed him." Jaime retorted.

Varys raised an eyebrow at him, "So that was you? Hmm...I still have other business that must be dealt with...and I have my own means to escape." he finished cryptically.

Jaime gave him a look before shaking his head and striding forward. Varys walked quickly, disappearing into a side passage.

Barristan remained silent and followed Jaime forward, without a word, despite his misgivings about this whole endeavor.

Moments passed, the Bells of the Great Sept were louder now, and they finally reached the Stables. A goodly number of Redcloaks were there. The Hound stood to one side with sullen looking Tommen and a septa. A black leather clad sellsword stood shouting orders at the Redcloaks.

Barristan wondered, who was this sellsword?

As they approached Tommen was the first one to notice them. He smiled sadly at Myrcella but didn't do anything else. She smiled back in response but seemed confused by Tommen's sullenness.

Barristan cast a look around and frowned, noticing who was missing where was Cersei? And Joffrey?

The Hound noticed him and then cast a look Jaime and jerked his head at Barristan. In response Jaime just waved it off and stepped up to the sellsword.

"Bronn."

"Glad you could finally join us, I was just thinking of leaving you behind," the sellsword...Bronn quipped insolently.

Barristan raised an eyebrow at this, he turned to Jaime, expecting to hear a scathing retort at the sellsword's brashness and impertinence from the proud Lannister...but none came much to his surprise.

"If I was you I probably would have," retorted Jaime, with an easy smile. "Everything ready?"

The ease with which they spoke especially surprised him. Who was this Bronn character?

Bronn nodded, "Got into it with some Baratheon guards, they didn't last long." he shrugged.

"Excellent! Mount up!" Jaime commanded, handing off Myrcella to her septa.

"You're not going anywhere! Get them!" screamed an angry voice.

Barristan twirled around drawing his sword, facing the speaker, he saw a red faced Loras Tyrell. The Knight of the Flowers was rushing at them with a small group of Baratheon and Tyrell men at his back.

The attackers were outnumbered but still they attacked. They were on them quickly, swords clashed and metal clanged.

Barristan met the charge and cut the first man down with ease. One of the Tyrell men came at him with a greatsword. He parried the first blow and then twisted, locking their guards together. Their eyes locked and the Tyrell man's face blanched as he recognized who he was crossing swords with, panic actually started to cross his face as Barristan forced the greatsword's edge away. The man tried to disengage but Barristan was quicker, the longer blade a hindrance to the man, and with a stunning blow he finished the Tyrell man off.

He suddenly found himself back to back with Jaime Lannister and together they cut a bloody tide through the attackers. More and more of the attackers fell in quick succession. The skirmish was very much in their favour.

With a roar of rage, Loras Tyrell rushed at them, lightening fast strikes coming at them, each was parried with contemptible ease either by himself or Jaime.

Is the boy mad? Thought Barristan as Loras continued to press his attack instead of seeking to trying to escape. What are you trying to prove?

Regardless, Barristan fought on.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxox

Jaime Lannister

Loras Tyrell came at him, sword raised with a roar of anger.

A small part of him was incredulous at the Tyrell boy's stupidity, as the Tyrell boy attacked him and Ser Barristan. At the same time.

The Knight of the Flowers was an excellent jouster and an able swordsman with good skill but still...he was proving to be a complete and utter lackwit.

Most of Loras's men lay dead or dying, and now he was charging him and Ser Barristan.

Their swords met and clashed violently in a deadly dance that Loras used to try and press them back. Back and forth he struck at Jaime and Ser Barristan. They both met his strokes, defeating every attack he made.

What is he doing?

The sound of a great many running feet reached his ears.

He's delaying us!

Beyond them he saw distant, the colours of House Baratheon. Men being led by Renly Baratheon himself. He saw a familiar flash of gold amongst them and then Jaime saw Cersei among them. She was being dragged along with them, none too gently.

A pang of guilt stabbed him in the heart that he attempted to stifle, they had to leave now!

It was time to end this, with mere glance at Ser Barristan and a small nod, Jaime struck hard at Loras, driving him back. In response Loras struck back, with a quick cut at him. Ser Barristan parried the blade, sending the blade in the other direction, and Jaime went in for the kill.

Blood spurted as Jaime's blade sliced open Loras Tyrell's throat.

xoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxox

Renly Baratheon

"LORAS!" Renly screamed in anguish.

Loras's sword clattered to the ground as his hands went to his opened throat. The Heir of Highgarden clutched at his throat, trying to stem the tide of blood unleashed by Ser Jaime's sword. Time seemed to stop for Renly as Loras fell to his knees, and as a tower collapsing fell forward onto his face. He twitched once before stilling, his blood pooling around him.

His men were still too far away to reach them and the Kingslayer knew it. The Kingslayer swiftly mounted his waiting horse, taking Myrcella from the waiting arms of her septa and putting her in front of him, preparing to ride away and escape the Red Keep.

Renly had to act now before Loras's killer escaped. He grabbed Cersei from her guards and dragged her forward by her golden hair. He quickly unsheathed and placed his dagger at her throat.

Cersei screamed and struggled against him. She spat obscenities and threats at him of what Robert would do to him. Of what Tywin Lannister would do. He ignored it all.

"Stop Kingslayer! Stop! Or I will kill your sister!" Renly screamed in an enraged passion.

All of the Lannister men seemed to freeze for a moment, staring at Ser Jaime and wondering what he would do now.

Myrcella was staring at him with tears in her eyes, "Mother!" she screamed in anguish.

While Tommen seemed unusually subdued.

From atop his horse, Jaime gazed forlornly at Cersei for a moment before his face darkened and he said bitterly, "Slit her throat and rid us all of her madness."

Cersei's screaming and struggling stopped and she seemed to fall into a stupor.

Renly froze and stared at the Kingslayer in shock and disbelief, "What?" He couldn't have heard those words correctly.

The Kingslayer didn't wait for Renly to respond further, he spurred his horse forward and charged out of the gates and into the streets of King's Landing. The rest of the surviving Redcloaks thundered forward in his wake