Heir of Fire

chapter five

Gemma had just finished her duties for the day and was making her way through the winding halls of the Red Keep, her thoughts consumed with the news she had overheard from the other servants. Tytos Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, was dead. Soon, his son—Tywin, the man responsible for her family's annihilation—would leave for Casterly Rock to assume full control. The thought made her stomach churn.

Time is running out, she thought, her mind racing with plans she could barely form. She had been biding her time, hoping for a moment, a chance to act. But once Tywin left King's Landing, that chance might be gone forever.

Her steps were brisk as she crossed the courtyard, her dark cloak pulled tightly around her. The Red Keep's shadows were long this time of day, and she felt as if the very walls were closing in on her. As she turned a corner, she nearly collided with a knight in gleaming white armour.

Her breath caught in her throat. It was him.

Samwell. The knight of Sunflower Hall, they called him. Her Sam.

The man who had once known her as Gemma, the girl from the brothel, his gem. Now, he was a brother of the Kingsguard, sworn to protect the royal family. She hadn't seen him in years, not since the day she had sent him away from her. Her heart quickened as she tried to avoid his gaze, lowering her head and hoping he wouldn't recognise her in the sea of servants that always filled the castle.

But Sam knew her too well.

"Gemma?" His voice, though quiet, carried a weight that stopped her in her tracks.

She hesitated, her back to him, every muscle tense. No. Not here. Not now.

She took a step forward, pretending she hadn't heard him.

"Gemma, wait!" His voice was more urgent now, and she could hear his footsteps following after her.

Her pulse raced, her mind scrambling to think of an excuse, a lie, anything. But she was too late. He caught up to her, grabbing her arm gently but firmly.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his brow furrowed with confusion. "Why are you in the castle?"

Gemma lifted her chin, her expression a mask of cold indifference. "You're mistaken, Ser," she said, her voice clipped. "I do not know you."

But Sam wasn't easily deterred. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path, his eyes searching her face. "Don't do this, Gemma. You're here for a reason. Is it... because of King Aerys?" His voice was softer now, filled with concern. "You're in his household, aren't you? Did he-?"

Gemma's blood ran cold at the implication, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "No," she snapped, her tone sharp and cutting. "It has nothing to do with the king."

Sam blinked, taken aback by her reaction. "Then what is it? Why are you here? You never told me—"

"I don't owe you an explanation," she interrupted, her voice rising with barely contained anger. How dare he. How dare he assume she was here because of the king, that she was nothing more than a pawn in some sordid game. That she could never be more than someone's mistress. She had chosen this path—this role—as a way to survive, to hide, to bide her time.

But she would not be reduced to that again. Not by him.

"Leave me alone, Sam," she said, her voice quieter now, though no less firm. "I am busy. I have duties to attend to."

Sam stood there, his face a mixture of hurt and confusion, but he didn't press further. He nodded slowly, his hand falling away from her arm. "If that's what you want."