Legacy of the Last Dragonlords

He had been here before. Not just the physical location of the small council chamber - such repetitiveness was obvious - but also the more… subjective factors. A city on the brink, hostile armies at the gates, loyal forces whose loyalty was questionable at best… and an unstable ruler ready to react in an unparalleled brutality just to hold onto power. And perhaps not even tethered to the barest of rationality such as that. Yes, Ser Jaime Lannister had been here before. Oh, he had a claim to determine that better than anyone alive.

"You told me the dragons were wounded!" Cersei hissed to Euron, eyes blazing daggers at the Ironborn 'King.' Before Euron could even reply, she shifted to Qyburn. "And you fucking confirmed it!" Her shrill voice echoed through the chamber.

It was Qyburn that spoke first. "Your Grace… please. My little birds only informed me that one was wounded, and given that only one dragon appeared at the parlay… the information should be deemed confirmed." He sighed. "Multiple Ironborn reavers documented that both dragons were hit in the ambush, so it seems that the green dragon recovered."

Wanting to leap out of her chair - journey to the black cells to watch as Ser Gregor tortured some of the Targaryen spies imprisoned there - the immense baby bump kept her planted in the seat. Seven fucking hells. Cersei would have to be content with the twenty food hoarders and scroungers that were hung on her orders outside the Red Keep after the parlay. "Even if the green dragon survived, the Dragon Whore resides in the black cells! Why in the name of the Stranger does the Stark Bastard of all people have the ability to ride one?!"

Jaime's brow rose, all inner strength in him trying to fight any other expression of shock coming forth on his face. Jon Snow… riding the green dragon? If the dragon was at Dragonstone for the ambush and Jon Snow miraculously appeared now on its back… the beast must have flown to him. His stump ached beneath the new golden arm, perfectly fitted but still uncomfortable. He must know. There is no doubt.

"...mount of Targaryen blood in his veins." Jaime only captured the tail end of Qyburn's words. "It was always rumored that Ned Stark's lover was Ashara Dayne. The Daynes had a past Targaryen ancestor. That must be where his dragonriding ability comes from, your grace."

Her balled fists slammed on the table. "'Best aim in the Seven Kingdoms,' you said." Nothing but vile hate spat out at Euron. "I gave you a simple order. Kill the fucking dragons! You couldn't even do that for me!"

Euron looked at her incredulously. "I brought you the Dragon Queen. She rots in your cell because of me!"

"And yet Jon Snow rides a dragon, which he wouldn't do had you killed both of them as I ordered." Her anger began to boil. A simmering hate that reminded Jaime of another monarch he served. "And let me point out that I am the Queen. You will give me the proper respect… or else." Ser Gregor placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. A message stronger than any words of what Euron was barreling into.

A single flash of darkness. Of cold, calculating rage, replaced by a bombastic penitence. "Forgive me, my Queen. I shall remember my manners from now on."

Cersei calmed. "Good. Now, one dragon is out of the picture, while the other is out there. We need to hunt it down and kill it."

"Allow me to redeem myself, your Grace." Euron leaned forward, a charming smile on his face. "Let me sail to Dragonstone and kill the creature. I have more ships equipped with scorpions. A further hail of fire will take the beast down."

The Queen pondered the request. Pursing her lips, she nodded. "Do it."

"By gods, you are the stupidest Lannister!" Their father's words rang true in Jaime's mind. Trusting Euron Greyjoy? A man so clearly self-interested? What a fool I've been.

"The things I do for love." His words in front of Bran Stark encapsulated it perfectly.

Glancing at Cersei with quiet and guarded eyes, the woman he had shared moments of love and passion with no longer existed. She has gone mad. Just like Aerys. The same cold snarl of the lips, wild, bloodshot eyes of hate. All that was missing was the frail build of someone too paranoid to eat, but the babe in her womb explained that. The babe - his babe - grounded Cersei in a way no one else could. Not even him, and Jaime shuddered to think what the child's birth would mean for Cersei's psyche.

It would snap the last tether to reality. Rhaegar's defeat at the Trident had for the Mad King, after all.

Clenching her teeth, Cersei suddenly turned to Jaime. "Dear brother. What would you do? Tell me what I should do!"

Staring at the crude map drawn out on the table, Jaime felt a bead of sweat course down his forehead. The sooner Cersei's reign was ended the better, but if she had options then there would be less danger to the innocents of King's Landing. Seven help me. "Get all your troops within the cover of the city walls. The scorpions might not do much, but they're better than nothing against the bastard's dragon."

Even in the midst of a descent into madness - near the end of said descent, rather - Cersei did exhibit some of their father's sense. "Qyburn, send a message to Strickland. I want the entire army evacuated from Hayford and within the city walls by the next morrow. With fucking dragons around…" Another glare at Euron. "I am not losing one of my last pieces of leverage." Rage soon clouded her vision. "All forces, bring them back! That bastard won't touch my armies if I have anything to say about it!"

Jaime could have sworn he saw a flicker of triumph on Qyburn's face. "It will be done with all due haste, your Grace."

"Wait…" Marden Tanner blinked, incredulous as to the story being told to him. "So the fucker actually said that to the Dragon Queen?"

Taking a sip of the bitter ale from his waterskin - the liquid actually starting to grow on him - Grey Worm nodded. "Yes. He say these things." The motley crew lazily drinking and swapping stories around the campfire was an odd one, no doubt about it. Several northerners, Grey Worm and two of his captains, a smattering of Vale knights, one minor Lord from the Riverlands, and Tormund with his two Dothraki lasses. From what Grey Worm knew of Dothraki, they were likely married in the eyes of the Great Stallion. Likely same for the Free Folk. "Second Son said the Queen show him her... cunt." His common tongue still wasn't the best.

Jeers rang out from the seated Westerosi. "Dragon Queen should've just had him beheaded," remarked a man from the Vale.

"I hope she set her dragons upon them, like Lady Sansa did to that Bolton fuck," another Northerner hissed.

Grey Worm shook his head, enjoying himself. "I offered to make the man pay for insolence, but Queen Daenerys refused." His tiny smirk widened at the surprise on his companion's faces.

"Pfft," Tormund growled, downing the ale in his drinking horn. "She's just like King Crow, fucking honor to a fault. Thank the gods they have cunts like us to do their dirty work." He reached down to pinch the asses of both of his companions, who answered back by twin punches to the side. All wore smiles, though.

"Still hoped the fuckers paid," said Tanner.

"Queen Daenerys told Barristan to kill lead sellsword first, when battle commence."

Tanner nodded. "Good." He reached over and slapped Grey Worm on the back, the two having struck up an unlikely friendship in spite of the rather… frosty first meeting. Exemplifying the warming of relations between the two armies since setting up camp along the Dusken. "So was there a battle?"

Everyone's attention was gained by an educated, calming voice from behind the Unsullied commander. "No, there was no battle outside the walls of Yunkai." Grey Worm knew that voice anywhere - he allowed himself the rare brilliant smile as he stood, immediately finding Missandei's arms thrown around him in a tight embrace. "Iksan biare naejot ūndegon ao, Turgon Nudha," she whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek.

"Hae iksin nyke," he whispered back, also kissing her. His on the lips. It had been barely a moonturn since leaving Dragonstone at Jon Snow's orders, but the passionate couple felt it acutely. The kiss soon grew.

Such a decision soon came back to bite Grey Worm. Largely in the form of whistles and whoops from the bannermen. Pulling back with a slight blush, Missandei nevertheless kept one hand laced in her lover's, the two of them taking a seat close together. "So this is the lovely lass you've been tellin us so much about!" Tanner grinned, one shared by all others.

"I told ya she was a beauty," Tormund added, laughing. "Seems only my lovelies ever believe me." He kissed the cheek of one of the Dothraki girls, who laughed.

"Don't worry, miss. This cunt only said nice things bout ya'."

Missandei raised an eyebrow. "Verdagon raqirossa, ñuha jorrāelagon?" she asked him in Valyrian.

Grey Worm shrugged. "Kessa. Nyke'll ivestragon ao tolī tolī."

"None of that foreign shit over here!" Both freedmen looked up with angered expressions, only to soften at the teasing grin on the riverman's face. "So cummon, how did Yunkai fall? Those cunt slavers better have fuckin' died." A chorus of agreement followed.

Joke having hit a little too close to home, the hate for the masters nevertheless allowed Missandei to feel quite welcome among the group. No wonder Grey Worm seems so relaxed. "Turns out, a lieutenant in the Second Sons approached myself and the Queen in her tent. Held a knife to my throat to gain an audience with the Queen." Grey Worm's hand tightened around hers - she hadn't told him that. Nor would she tell these men that the Queen was naked at the time. Only for King Jon's eyes now. The thought made her smile. "Once he did, he presented the heads of his superiors."

Whistles pierced the air. "Finally! I so wanted those fuckers to die," laughed a Valeman.

"They were…" Missandei couldn't help but laughing with them. "I didn't shed a tear for them. Turns out, the sellsword let Ser Jorah Mormont and Grey Worm here," she placed a hand on his chest, lovingly. "They infiltrated the city and opened the gates, allowing our men to storm in. Only a week later, the masters freed all the slaves within Yunkai. Hundreds of thousands."

The Westerosi pondered this. "So that's where 'Breaker of Chains' came from?" asked Eddard Cassel, warming his hands in the fire.

Missandei nodded. "Astapor and Meereen too, but it was Yunkai that began the legend." Almost automatically, her hand drifted to her neck - where her collar had once been. "The masters offered Queen Daenerys a fleet of ships and a fair amount of gold, which she could have used to pay the Golden Company to fight for her and take back her throne - but she refused. Thought it was blood money, enriching herself on the backs of millions of slaves. She told me that she would rather risk the Iron Throne than leave one man, woman, or child in bondage."

Silence descended over the campfire. Knights and warriors looking at each other, gears turning within their heads. Both Missandei and Grey Worm found themselves nervous - relations between them and the Westerosi had improved greatly since the coldness of their arrival at Winterfell, but Daenerys herself was still a sore subject. Neither knew how they would ultimately react…

Marden Tanner broke the silence, refilling his mug of ale. "Well, looks like our King chose the right woman to love." He lifted the mug into the air. "To the Dragon Queen! May her men bring us the head of Cersei Lannister this time." Grey Worm and Missandei smiling wide, they joined their comrades in the toast.

A blinding light overpowering her, Daenerys raised her hand, shielding her violet eyes. Soon the light dimmed, replaced by only the manageable illumination of the noonday sun. Ultimate fire tempered by the cooling sea breeze. Finding herself outside, Dany looked around her in confusion. A confusion that quickly left her - there was no sight on earth more iconic than this, except perhaps Winterfell, childhood home of her beloved.

"Dragonstone," she breathed. The place retained its visage, dark and imposing upon the crags and rocks of the stalwart island heading Blackwater Bay. But… Daenerys noticed a difference. The sun burned brighter. The grass more vibrant. Even the castle seemed teeming, not the deserted wonder she had occupied upon her landing in Westeros but rather something lush. Something lived in, filled with love and joy. Overhead, she could see her dragons soaring, bringing a smile to their lips. They seemed happy, a feeling that she herself could sense within her.

Such gazing was interrupted by the sounds of laughter. Coaxing her from the stairway into the grassy meadow. Three figures were visible in the distance, running around together. Daenerys could sense the joy that radiated from them - that radiated from the entire island, not seen since her own mother had brought the young Prince Rhaegar here. Pace quickening, she watched as a man in a simple black breeches and cuirass lifted two little children into his arms, falling into the grass.

There was no denying who the man was. "Jon…" He looked nearly the same, aside from a few scars here and there and the Targaryen dragon upon his leathers. But the brooding air was gone, evaporated, leaving before her a carefree man enjoying the life he had been given. Daenerys felt her heart soaring at his brilliant smile… only to have her entire concept of what happiness was proven to be woefully adept upon what Jon stated upon noticing her. Smile impossibly widening.

"Look, sweetlings. It's muña." Her breath hitched, both at his Valyrian and at the word he used. The word for 'mother.'

Out of the grass poked two heads, silver hair hopelessly tangled from their playful morning. One pair of grey eyes, and one pair of violet sparkled with joy at spotting Daenerys. "Muña!" One boy and one girl, no older than five, scrambled through the fields toward her. Arms out and desperate to reach her. In her heart, Dany knew who these were. Knew of the deep love she felt for both these beautiful children. Falling to her knees, Dany's arms opened wide just as the two children leapt into her embrace…

Eyes fluttering open, Daenerys was greeted not with the gentle caress of whom undoubtedly were her children, but the moldy brick and stone of the black cells. Entombing her in their coffin of death and decay. Leaning up, she bit back a scream. Cursing her mind and whatever gods there were for torturing her so. With the happiness she had never truly known. Such moments - growing up in the house with the red door, feeding her dragons in Qarth, making love with Jon in their cabin aboard the ship to White Harbor - all were in ignorance. Deprived of the true reality to be mere illusions. Now that she knew the truth, the entire truth, all that faced her was pain and desolation.

My fault.

Gently, Dany caressed her swelling abdomen. Feeling for her child - for her children. My dreams come true. She could feel it, feel the fire of twin dragons… twin dragonwolves growing inside her. It was instinct, nothing more. But Daenerys needed nothing less. "My sweetlings," she murmured, drawing what little comfort she could from them. "I wish your poppa was here." A tear fell from her, so different from the confident Dragon Queen. Alone with her babies, she indulged. "I miss him so much… He was the only person I ever truly loved before you. The only one I would want by my side." Dany hung her head in shame. "I pushed him away, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry my little dragons." And there she sat for what seemed like days, silent but for the sobs that wracked her body.

Sometime later, unknown to her for not even sunlight was allowed to enter the cells, the thick wooden door opened. Booted feet entering with the clink of mail and armor. Dany was numb to it all. Too light to be the Mountain. Perhaps Cersei had come with some of her other Queensguards. She steeled herself, hands tightening protectively over her stomach. Waiting for the 'Queen's' venom and insults. But… none of that happened. There wasn't even a voice, only a shadow obscuring the low light of the hallway. Against her newfound instincts as a prisoner, she glanced over her shoulder.

Only to wrench her gaze away. "What are you doing here?" she spat. Face to face with her betrayer. Her father's killer.

The one person that embodied all her family had lost.

Jaime had no idea why he was down here. What could be said by him to comfort Daenerys Targaryen? What could be done? He had come here to end Cersei's life, but her presence here and the presence of his unborn child threatened his mission. All his brains told him to stay as far away from Daenerys as possible, for both their hides...

But… she was so much like her mother. Rhaella Targaryen, the beautiful Queen and almost like a second mother to him. Jaime never forgot standing outside the royal chambers as a young knight, having to listen as the Mad King repeatedly raped the kind and gentle Rhaella. She didn't deserve being there, just as her kind and gentle daughter - no cruel person could cradle their child with the purest of love as Daenerys did - didn't deserve being here. He couldn't comfort Rhaella, but perhaps he could provide some comfort to Daenerys.

Only silence followed, though. No matter what he thought, Jaime just couldn't find the words.

She preempted him. "You're back to where you want to be, aren't you? Fulfilled your 'oath' to save the North, and now you're back in your sister's arms." Dany was bitter, lashing out with an unqueenly rage. But she didn't care - what did she truly have to lose? What, did your sister open her legs to you the moment you arrived, grateful to have her golden lion returned out of love for her?"

Saying nothing, Jaime just stared at her huddled form. She had no idea, but… how could she? He hadn't even told Brienne, the woman that he...

"But I don't expect any different from you, Kingslayer." Dany didn't look at him, but was snarling all the same. "You claim to have killed my father - destroyed my family - as an act of good, but go right back to condemning those same innocent people to a soulless tyrant. Doing whatever it takes to maintain the wheel, crushing those innocent people just for existing. Just so that Cersei can keep her claws on the damned iron chair for one more day." The throne mattered nothing to her. Dany had what truly mattered… and she pushed it all away. A fact only stroking her anger. "You pledged an oath to my House, but it meant nothing to you! My brother, my niece and nephew… even my mother…" Unable to continue, Dany just cupped her face in her hands, fighting back the tears.

"I didn't betray your brother." Such words, they stung harder than he had expected. A desperate, broken woman, touching the most painful of wounds to his very soul. "My oath to Rhaegar remains unbroken." He shut the door behind him, giving the two a semblance of privacy. 

Daenerys scoffed. "I expected a better lie from the likes of a Lannister…"

"Jon Snow, he's Rhaegar's sire. Isn't he?"

Dany's head turned around at that, shocked at the words. "Wha… what?" First Qyburn… and now Jaime. Does Cersei know? For now, Cersei was content to let Jon come to her. If she knew… Jon would be assassinated in the first instant.

Wordlessly, Jaime took a seat on the stone bunk. Giving Daenerys plenty of space. "Rhaegar… there were only a few he trusted with his secrets. Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell, Ser Gerold… and myself. Lyanna… gods, she was perfect. Rhaegar never stood a chance, the Queen the realm deserved." Blinking in shock, Daenerys stared upon the only man left alive with knowledge of the true beginning of Robert's Rebellion. The true story of her beloved's birth. Jaime smiled wistfully. "Oswell would stay with Rhaegar, Arthur and Gerold would protect the Princess and their child, and I would protect Rhaella, Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys. They were all still royals, and I believe Rhaegar wanted Elia to be his Queen as much as Lyanna."

"Targaryens answer to neither men nor gods," Daenerys couldn't help but say. "But why were Elia and the children in the city?"

"I managed to send Rhaella to Dragonstone, but once news of Rhaegar's death reached the capitol, Aerys closed the city. Trapping us all in. The rest…" He let it hang, no explanation needed. "My plan was to escape to find Ser Arthur, to get Lyanna and the baby to Dragonstone… But the King… Once it was all over, and Ned Stark finding me at the base of the Iron Throne, I learned that she was dead. I learned that Rhaella was dead. That it was all over." He shut his eyes, forcing the tears back. "I had no purpose anymore, all my oaths either broken or meaningless. I guess… such allowed Cersei to suck me into her web."

Leaning back, Jaime stared at the ceiling. Memories long thrown down the memory hole finally bubbling up again - the Kingslayer allowing himself to ponder them. "For Robert's entire reign, I thought Lyanna dead. I thought their child dead. The kind and wise Prince and his family I had sworn to all murdered by my family and its allies." Watching, Daenerys saw actual grief on Jaime's face. "Thus, when I - in my cocky, arrogant shell of my former self - arrived at Winterfell that fateful journey so long ago, it was like seeing a ghost."

"You… you knew Jon was Rhaegar's son the moment you saw him?" In all honesty, it was more a statement than a question. Daenerys was floored. Few alive remembered the Crown Prince as he truly was. Looking upon it, only Ser Barristan and Jaime Lannister could really make the distinction. Had Ser Jaime told Robert, or his sister… Tears welled in her lids, knowing that Jon could have easily been taken away from her before they even met.

"Aye, I did." Jaime closed his eyes. "His coloring, his eyes, they all are his mother's, but the rest of Jon is so clearly Rhaegar - I'm surprised no one made the connection." He shrugged his shoulders. "No one expected Ned Stark to lie, especially over something so mad as him fathering a bastard… and he did look more like a Stark than his cousins…"

"They accepted the lie without questioning it." Her goodfather's honor saved Jon's life - saved him from a life on the run from the worst variety of sellswords and favor curriers as she and Viserys were forced to endure. He had his own version of hell, but at least Jon hadn't had to worry about a knife to the neck. "Did you tell anyone?"

Jaime shook his head. "No one. I kept my oath to Rhaegar. To defend his children at all costs." Shifting his gaze to Daenerys, he looked at her - really looked at her. Giving her the same comfort that he killed himself inside for not giving to Rhaella. "I have done many terrible things, your Grace. Killed many, brought misery and pain to many, sullied my honor all in the name of those I thought I loved. But if I am to die tomorrow, be it at my sister's hand or by chance, I hope it to be known that Ser Jaime Lannister did honor his oaths to House Targaryen."

Unlike that day in the great hall of Winterfell, her violet eyes met Jaime's green ones without a shred of hatred. In them, she saw an equally damaged person - one that had gone through just as tragic a life as her. "I always hated you, growing up. Listening to Viserys speak of the man who murdered our father." The same conversation as the Great Hall in Winterfell, only this one far more intimate and personal. "Saw you as the evil specter in my nightmares, only instead of my father it was me you would run through with your sword."

The Kingslayer chuckled dryly. "Haven't heard that one before, though it doesn't shock me." Whatever ghost of a smile on his lips fell. "I've certainly been called worse, all for my decision that night. Tyrion told you why I did it, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did." Perhaps had Robert's Rebellion never happened - had Brandon Stark exercised tact or her father had not been mad - this man would have been a close guard to her and her family. They would have been on intimate terms. For her entire life, she hated Jaime Lannister, but in this moment she felt a glimpse of a life she could have had. "You did the right thing." Ready to burn innocents alive… hundreds of thousands of them… at one point, watching as Rhaegal and Drogon were hit by the scorpions. Her fleet set upon by Euron… there was a moment where she wished to lash out at Cersei by any means. It had been fleeting, but a second - resulting in disgust to this day. Daenerys hated herself for just that moment. Her dragonfire burned bright against those that would knowingly hatch such a plan. "Whatever any may say of you, it was the right thing to do."

Silent, Jaime eased off the stone. Slowly lowering himself to his knee. Fulfilling his oath to Rhaegar, to Rhaella. To protect their family.

Before he left, Jaime turned to look upon Rhaella's daughter once more. "The Long Night is over, your Grace. We each know what our honor demands. I have my duty, and you have yours." A silence hung in the cell, the two staring at each other. "There is a crypt, in Dragonstone. One where Rhaegar's most treasured belongings reside. After I returned from seeing Jon Snow in Winterfell, I had them removed from their secret compartment among the dragon heads in the Keep, trusting the loyal maester - who served under your brother as well as Stannis."

Rhaegar's belongings? A connection between her and her brother, and Jon and his true father. Daenerys hoped to witness his expression when she showed it to him. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because… if I am to do what my honor requires from me…" He hung his head, feeling the weight of his family's misdeeds on his shoulders. "I will have to ask a favor of you, Daenerys Stormborn. An impossible choice you have every right to refuse. Call it a gift, a bribe, whatever… I don't care, but I hope that the Mother of the Bay of Dragons will do me this favor when the time is right. To save another innocent life."

His word choice was not lost on Daenerys. Mhysa, the one that saved Slaver's Bay from bondage. Who gave hope to the innocent. But what was the impossible choice? What could Jaime ask that would require disclosing such treasures as her brother's most beloved possessions? Daenerys reasoned that whatever it was would test her soul.

But for the woman that nearly gave her life for millions of desperate people who had done nothing for her… there was never any choice. "I promise, Ser Jaime. Whatever you ask of me, if it is within my power, I will do so." She smiled. "For the Protector of the Prince."

It hit Jaime like the greatest of punches. Staggering him. A new moniker, one banishing 'Kingslayer' to the ash heap of history. One that would bring pride to any that read it upon the great book of the Kingsguards - one he had earned. Jaime could almost envision Rhaegar, Ser Arthur, and Ser Barristan smiling upon him from the afterlife. Slowly, quietly, he stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

Shutting the door to his private office, Qyburn watched the sprinkled candles around him flickering from the gentle breezes wafting from the windows. It was said that the Tower of the Hand was the loneliest place in the entire Red Keep. He understood - and rather liked the solitude. One page to run messages waiting outside, a few young helpers in his personal workshop in the Grand Maester's former quarters, such was all the human contact he needed outside of official business.

"All forces, bring them back! That bastard won't touch my armies if I have anything to say about it!"

His Queen's command had been explicit, and Qyburn would be a disloyal or ineffective Hand if he did not carry it out to the letter. With that in mind, he took a seat at his desk, dipped a quill in ink, and brought the instrument to the sheaf of parchment in front of him.

Commander Strickland,

My little birds have sung to me that the bastard Jon Snow is unable to control the dragon he rode in the north, and that the other dragon is gravely wounded upon the cliffs of Dragonstone. Our trap is close to being set.

The Queen has ordered a full attack, so move from Hayford Castle to the Dusken at once to engage the Targaryen Army. Give them battle until they surrender and are annihilated. If the bastard tries to use his dragon, deploy the new projectiles.

Burn this upon reading it.

Qyburn, Hand to Queen Cersei, First of her Name.

Setting down the quill, Qyburn couldn't help the skeletal smile that stretched over his face. He was almost giddy as he called the ten and three year old page to deliver the message to the rookery. Now, all he had to do was sit back and watch the cogs fit into place before his very eyes.