The Long Winter | Jaime Lannister X Stark OC | GOT/ASOIAF

A King Should Die Harder

Ross truly thought she would die, during the sack of King's Landing.

She'd been hoping, praying, for the Northmen to be the first there. If not them, then at least Stormlanders, or Valemen, for she knew Robert Baratheon and had met Jon Arryn. But no. Aerys had foolishly trusted Tywin Lannister, and allowed his armies through the city gates to defend against Robert's forces that would soon be arriving. Lord Tywin had betrayed his former friend, and it was red-cloaked guardsmen that burned the city, broke into homes, pillaged and murdered. Red-cloaked men who, as far as she knew, were not her brother's allies.

The moment the fighting started, Ross was escorted to the throne rooom by half a dozen guards. Not only was she a valuable hostage in the event that Ned reached King's Landing, but also because Aerys truly believed that her son Ren was a Targaryen bastard. She sat on the steps of the Iron Throne, her one-year-old son in her lap, as the King screamed manic orders at those in charge of the defence.

She had feared for Jaime, that Aerys would order him killed or used against Tywin, but the King, in his arrogance, had not even questioned that one of his Kingsguard would go against his own father for him. Jaime was put in charge of defending the Red Keep, despite his young age and limited practical experience with such things.

To his credit, the Red Keep held out for longer than the rest of the city. Despite the sounds of chaos and death that drifted up Aegon's High Hill to the castle, inside the castle was eerily silent. All the guards were out defending the walls, except the few left to watch over Elia Martell and Rhaegar's children. The pregnant Rhaella and Prince Viserys had been sent to Dragonstone weeks ago.

The sounds of swords clashing were growing louder. The invaders must be close to breaching the walls, which meant the Targaryens had lost. They had lost the moment the gates opened for Tywin Lannister, in truth. Ross wasn't sure what the Lannisters would do with her if they found her. Herself alone was one thing, but her son - who everyone believed was Aerys' bastard - was quite another.

Aerys had paid her little attention. Honestly, she doubted he remembered she was there. He was talking to himself, alternating between muttering under his breath and yelling, in the throes of some insane delusion. His arms were bloody and scabbed from the numerous times he had cut himself on the Iron Throne, and he was now pacing around in front of the vast thing.

A set of footsteps, heavy booted feet, were approaching the throne room. Jaime wore the white cloak of the Kingsguard, but that was where the white ended; his armour was as golden as his sword.

"Your Grace," He inclined his head, and Aerys jerked upright, staring at him, eyes unfocused. "They are almost over the walls - we have too few defenders. I advise that you flee the city. There is still time to get a boat to Dragonstone," This was all said in a monotone. He knew the King would not flee.

"Lannister treachery," Aerys hissed. "The Dragon does not flee. Bring me your father's head, Ser Jaime, to show your King that you are no traitor," He turned to the petrified looking servant in attendance. "And you, boy - find my Hand. Tell Lord Rosshart and his pyromancers that the time is now," He laughed an awful laugh. "See how Tywin likes it then. He will die in fire and blood, along with the rest of this wretched city! And I will rise as the dragon reborn,"

Jaime shared a glance with Ross, then down at her (their) son, his face ashen. She had no idea what the madman was raving on about, and could not ask outright what made Jaime look so afraid, though could tell enough to be filled with dread. He looked away, and something had changed in his expression. Resignation. Like what Aerys had said had made up his mind for him.

Both Jaime and the servant left the throne room. Ross was left alone with the King, who was still pacing, a wraith of a man who had lost his mind.

It was not long before Jaime returned, his face as grim as any Stark. When she saw the blood dripping from his golden sword onto the flagstones, she wondered for half a second if he truly had killed his father. He met her eyes, for half a second, and offered a faint smile.