A Dragon Kissed by Sun

Kingsguard

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Chapter 17 (A Little Lion), Chapter 18 (The Lost Dragon), and Chapter 19 (A Song For The Lost) are already available on Patreon.

Ser Barristan was fuming as he walked back into his solar. He could still smell the burning green flesh. It burned his eyes, nose and throat, and felt like acid dripping down into his stomach.

He had walked out of the room without the king's leave for the first time ever in his life of service. The last thing he saw was Aerys looking at him with a detached crazed look in his eyes. The feeling left behind in his soul by that look caused his heart to pound. He was pacing, but he had to stop to catch his breath.

He reached down and grabbed the hilt of his sword, loosing it from its scabbard. He knew he had to go. The look in Aerys's eyes had been one of a man defeated but not willing to secede. Such men are very dangerous.

He thought of the Stark boy, Brandon, all of twenty years at most. How did this happen? he found himself thought of the ravens that had arrived from Storm's End, and then the ones that came later from other castles in and around the North and the Vale and the Riverlands.

The messages had been identical, most of them, but with signatures added. He knew that because they'd been left all about the Red Keep, sometimes in the trash, sometimes left strewn about as casually as if they contained the ingredients to a pigeon pie. Others were unique, but sent a similar message: Aerys you have failed us. Your time in this world is over.

The only thing more disturbing than the fact that most of Westeros had declared war on the Targaryens was the fact that King Aerys seemed to think it was of no real consequence at all.

There was every reason to believe that the king's life was in more danger now than it had ever been. He should be taking action, helping plan for possible attacks.

Yet he felt nothing. His honor and sense of duty died the moment he saw Rickard Stark go up in green flames, his son strangling himself trying to get to him, it had been months now. Stark's other son was heading down the Kingsroad, possibly as close as Harrenhal by now. This should be information that was being used to plan defenses, and yet at the moment, he felt as if the only true safety was outside of these walls, out there with the criminals.

Criminals... He frowned at that word. What did that word even mean anymore? It seemed as if everyone in the Seven Kingdoms had been declared a criminal at some time or another in the last few years. His head swam. He reached again to the hilt of his sword, then jerked his hand away as he saw the green smoke rising in his mind, saw the flesh boiling and searing, both inside and out at the same time. Criminals...

Ser Barristan Selmy had had enough. His honor as a knight would not allow him to remain here in service to this king. He was sure of that now. Yet any action to that effect would mean his death, swift and certain.

He'd spent the last eighteen months trying discreetly, so as not to go above his station, to help His Grace understand the folly of the heavy handed approach he was using toward not only his lower servants, but all those who would be his allies in the Realm.

His Grace had openly mocked the idea that the sellsword might be so bold as to try to attack him while he sat the Iron Throne. The man had a spear through his eye before he got within a few feet of the king, but the experience had rattled Aerys greatly.

Not to mention what happened at Duskendale, of course. Ser Barristan had thought the incident with the sellsword would be a good moment to help His Grace understand that his true power lied in the loyalty of his people, but to no effect.