Chapter Text
Daisy had run straight into the portal without hesitation, when the choices were dying in the giant explosion of the enemy fleet, that she’d caused, or running through a faulty portal the idiot she’d just blasted into a wall had opened up, well, running through the portal it was. Eventually, one of these Hail Mary suicide missions was actually going to kill her. This one still might, and then she was running straight into a wall. The force of it stunned her as she was knocked onto her ass.
Shaking her head, she blinked rapidly, it was dark, there was noise, and the air stank with the tang of blood. She probably would have taken longer to gather herself if she hadn’t heard the scream of a woman rip through the air.
She was on her feet and moving down the hallways at speed before she was even aware of it really. Coming around the corner it was full of some dozen men, in armor with gold and red fabrics and colors. The door had been broken inwards, and the woman was screaming, her words making everything so very simple.
“Not my son!”
The men in the hallway were dead before they hit the ground from the force of the vibrations she sent, sending them flying at a velocity not even armor could save them from.
Daisy shot into the room, the scene of what was happening was crystal clear in all its frozen horror.
A huge, giant of a man was towering over a slightly built woman who was desperately trying to shield a baby with her very body as he reached to drag the baby from her arms. A second man was kicking and hacking at a door inside, a vicious rage to him. But the giant, oh Daisy could see he was blatantly aroused. It took fractions of a second for her to process, less than that to move.
Daisy collided with the huge giant of a man, sending both of them crashing through a table and couch before skidding across the floor. Her fist slammed into his face with every ounce of her strength.
Metal, flesh, and bone were not meant to be impacted by every bit of strength someone augmented by serum could use. Her fist went straight through and was only stopped by the solid stone beneath them.
Pulling her hand back, it caught on the metal, trapped inside his skull. Daisy nearly heaved from disgust. She was distracted from it by the cry of rage as the man who had been battering at the door came charging for her, sword raised over his head.
Her head snapped toward him, her other hand lifting and he went flying back into the wall and sliding down it like a puppet with its strings cut, blood leaking from what little of his skin was visible. She’d done internal damage then. She didn’t really care. Men who swung weapons at kids were so low on her list of priorities they were fighting with Nazis on how little she gave a shit about anything other than seeing them dead.
Daisy ripped her hand out of the piece of shit’s head while standing up and looking around. Her eyes found the woman cowering in the corner across from her, baby possibly a toddler clutched in her arms, tears streaming down her face, but a nearly feral expression on her face.
Daisy raised her hands up in surrender, “I’m not going to hurt you.” She kept her voice low but firm, only her eyes caught on the…very gross state of her hand. Her nose wrinkled, it was really gross. She shook that hand, blood and gore splattering off, grimacing she looked back at the woman, “Sorry, but um, not going to hurt you. I promise.”
There was a clanging as a man came running into the room, red and gold colors, again. Daisy didn’t give him a chance to draw his sword, he just dropped dead with a snapped neck. Which…if she’d been thinking that’d have been smarter than punching the other guy’s face in.
Looking back to the woman, which that couldn’t have helped, she found the woman was kneeling and murmuring something.
Daisy grimaced, but whatever room this was wasn’t safe and she needed to get this woman out of here before more men came. She stepped over, dropping onto one knee so they were at the same level, but not touching her. And it was a prayer, the woman was praying. “You’re safe, I’ll keep you and your kid safe. But I need you to talk to me, we can’t stay here.”
Startlingly black eyes looked up at her, the prayer leaving the woman’s lips. Though she said nothing after.
“What’s your name?” Daisy said slowly, not looking away. She needed to get this woman talking.
The woman swallowed, her voice shaken, rough from her screams. “Elia Martell, Holiness.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Elia.” She smiled, trying to make herself unthreatening. “If this room isn’t safe, where do you need to go to be safe?” Daisy wasn’t an expert, but from the muffled sounds they were in the middle of a battle or something.
Elia was thinking, clearly becoming more aware, the terror swallowed back enough she could think. Finally, she spoke, “The throne room, if the holdfast has fallen the men will retreat to defend the King. The King will not leave the throne.” Her voice had a tremor, but she was talking.
Daisy nodded, right, monarchy, wonderful. She was not liking the pricking pieces slotting together in her head about what kind of place that portal had spat her out in. Not a concern for right now though. “Ok, so we get you to the throne room?”
“The holdfast has fallen, we won’t survive the journey.” She had a choked sob in her voice.
Daisy did touch her then, setting her non-bloody hand on Elia’s shoulder. “I’ll get you there, but you’re going to have to point me in the right direction.” She waited for a moment, rushing too hard would probably make her freeze again, probably. “What can’t be left behind?”
“Rhaenys!” The woman’s attention turned sharp and desperate, her eyes leaving Daisy’s face for the battered door.
Daisy straightened, holding her hand out, helping the woman to her feet and following her as she half ran to the door, her voice desperate.
“Rhaenys, darling, I need you to open the door. It’s safe now. But you must open the door!” Elia’s hand was on the door, her mouth as close to the seam between door and wall as possible. “Oh gods she can’t hear me.”
Daisy could hear the violence all around them. They didn’t have time to coax a kid, and what was a small one if that’s how Elia was talking to them? Or hope the kid was even able to hear. She stepped forward, “I’ve got it.” She gently touched Elia’s arm, pulling her back, and then grabbed the door handle and yanked the door open.
There was a ripping shriek from the tearing of metal. Daisy stepped aside, letting Elia rush in. The door opened up to a spiral staircase. Elia was up the stairs as fast as her orange dress would allow her.
Daisy followed, noticing for the first time actually, that all of the rooms she’d been in so far were opulent. Coming out at the top was a dimly lit set of rooms, rooms that were lush with carpet, tapestries, velvets, and silk. Jesus. She had a sinking feeling Elia was someone really important…royalty important. The large room had several doorways into different rooms open. Elia disappeared into one, calling out for “Rhaenys”.
Closing her eyes, Daisy focused on the vibrations around them, there. “Here!” She called out to Elia while jogging into a room that was…holy fuck so much rich person opulence. Also, red and black and dragons. Not that she’d missed the dragons everywhere before, but this room with its giant four-poster. There was almost no light in here. She dropped onto her stomach, pulling the fabric aside, and something in her heart hurt at the look of the child curled underneath the bed.
“Hello there,” She kept her voice soft, they could take the time for this.
The little girl couldn’t have been older than three, all dark curls and chubby cheeks with snot and tears soaking into the fur of a tiny black kitten the girl was holding desperately close to her chest. The tremors shaking the girl were heartbreaking.
Daisy swallowed back her actual feelings on the matter. “I’m here to protect your mom and you. You’re safe now.”
Honestly, Daisy wasn’t expecting any movement or sound from the girl. But two, dark eyes, looked at her, likely as black as her mother’s from the barely visible underside of the bed.
It was quiet for a few weighted seconds, and then the girl practically flung herself towards Daisy, she crawled so fast.
Daisy caught the girl, easily pulling her into her arms. She hummed softly, as she quickly climbed back onto her feet, toddler resting on one hip. “Let’s go find your mom, she’s going to be so relieved to see you.” Which, was kind of redundant, because Elia was at the doorway, her eyes riveted on her daughter, one hand on the doorjamb, backlit in her desperation.
“Rhaenys!” And then Elia was there, pressing kisses against her child’s head, not even bothering to try and take the girl from Daisy’s arms before assuring herself her child was alive and well.
Daisy wasn’t sure how far the throne room was, and they needed to move, also, Elia was slightly built, and carrying one toddler was clearly straining her. There was no way she was walking any distance while holding two. “Elia, we need to go, I’ll carry Rhaenys, but we need to move.”
“Very well, there’s a passage from here to the lower floors.” Elia nodded, resolve in her thin frame as she pressed a last kiss to her daughter’s head, and then moved leading them out of the bedroom to a bookshelf, that now that Daisy was looking for it, and Elia was opening it, was a secret passage.
Elia didn’t dally, she moved with purpose, leading them through dark passages, purposeful cracks the only real source of light. Not that the lack of light was an issue for Daisy, vibrations were deadly useful for not needing to turn on the light. If she mainly used that when going to the bathroom at two am to avoid tripping over things, it wasn’t like she was going to tell anyone.
They came to the door out, but it was clear there was a fight on the other side from the sounds of violence. Daisy touched the too-quiet toddler in her arms cheek. “Rhaenys, I need you to close your eyes, and press your face under my chin, can you do that?”
Rhaenys nodded, with an inarticulate mumble, before burying her face against Daisy’s neck.
“Open the door,” Daisy said to Elia, they didn’t have time to linger. And Elia opened the door.
The room they’d come to was large, lit, and full of violence. It was incredibly clear the men in black with dragon symbols on them and a few with gold cloaks were losing to the yellow and red men. Daisy wasn’t an idiot, dragons meant the faction the small family she was helping. Gritting her teeth, she raised her arm, and concentrated, it was chaos, and she rarely used her powers this…delicately. But she could. So she closed her fist, and every man in the red and yellow with lions on them dropped dead, their brains leaking out of their ears.
////
Jaime Lannister stared at King Aerys. His body looked so frail…so…human as it lay on the floor of the throne room. With the madness and violence of his soul fled from his flesh he was just…a withered corpse, crimson soaking into his gnarled white hair. Jaime should feel…. something. But he didn’t. He was empty as if he was watching from beyond panes of glass, his body a doll he knew not how to puppet.
It was quiet.
The screaming madness and demands of death, cries of treachery, and demand to burn them all finally ended. The room was empty? It had not felt that way, not with Aerys’ mad screams echoing off the cold stone. The sound of violence and horror from outside the room seemed too distant to care. What did it matter? Aerys was dead. Why were men still fighting? Raping and looting? They could stop now.
But no words or motion came from Jaime’s mouth or limbs. He just stared down at the face of the monster. The man. Just a man. A man who bled and died like any other. How great and terrible he’d been in Jaime’s mind? He’d haunted his waking and sleeping hours. Monstrous, terrible, the screams of those he devoured ringing and clawing at Jaime’s mind. But he was dead.
Gone.
He should do something, but what was there to do? Aerys was dead, it could all stop. It could stop. He’d killed his King. Oathbreaker. But then…he’d broken so many oaths. Why was this one any different? Oathbreaker. He’d killed his King.
The ground bucked under his feet.
Jaime looked up at the great doors that took a grown man on each door to open as they opened without a hand touching them. His breath came out, misting in front of him. It was cold? When had it become cold? There was frost, spreading across the floors, the pillars, the windows, all of it, faster than a fire in a field of dry wheat. He didn’t need to see to know what was coming for him.
But see he did.
He had not expected the Stranger to be a woman. But he knew it to be her. Her hair moved from a wind that should not exist in these halls, clothed all in black, sleek gauntlets on her forearms, and she was Death, the Stranger made flesh here to take him.
The air felt like the wings of insects against his skin. His fingers loosened, his sword clattering against the stone. His heart felt as if it was in his throat. His cheeks were wet, when had he begun to cry?
He wasn’t even aware of it as he dropped to his knees. The sharp jolt of the fall from standing to kneeling shot through him. His voice croaked.
The guardsmen in black and crimson flooded the room, the brilliant orange like the sun of the Princess in the corner of his eye, but he could not look away from Death.
There were cries of alarm and curses.
Jaime just stared at the Stranger and confessed. “I killed my King.”
The Stranger stared at him, the strangest expression on her face, “Why did you kill him?”
“To stop the madness, it wouldn’t stop, he was going to burn them all, burn them all and I couldn’t…oaths, so many oaths, and my father’s head.” He gasped, when had breathing become hard? The world felt so much closer, the glass thinner, near real. He didn’t want it to feel real, he didn’t want to feel.
Her eyes were focused on him as she dropped to one knee, a hand fisting in the white fabric of his cloak, ensuring he could not look away from her. “Who was he going to burn?”
“Everyone,” He got out, “All of them, wildfyre under the city. Half a million souls. I swore to protect the innocent. I am a knight, I had to.” He was shameful and failed, failed in his oaths. But the Stranger could not be lied to, a god was beyond everything, beyond life, beyond honor or pride.
Jaime didn’t care about the sounds of the men in the room, he cared only for the expression of understanding on the face of the god here to judge him.
“What did you mean by your father’s head?” She hadn’t looked away from him, and mayhap it was a dream, a final kind of delusion, but it felt as if she was warmer toward him then.
He swallowed, “He ordered me to go and bring him my father’s head, Holiness.”
“Ok, just…stay there for a minute.” She stood up, patting his shoulder as she turned away from him.
Jaime was somewhat aware of the brief conversation, but he felt a relief he could not describe. He’d confessed, he was free, the King was dead.
“Who is in charge if the King is dead?” The Stranger’s voice was tight.
Princess Elia replied, “My son, Aegon.”
“The next King is the baby?” And oh, the Stranger’s voice had disbelief.
And…Jaime was still wearing a white cloak. Was he bound to protect the King Aegon? But he’d killed Aerys? He was unsure.
“Yes, Holiness,” Elia said, her voice lovely and strong even in her terror. He’d promised Rhaegar he’d protect her.
“Ok, so everyone is about to try and murder the baby, well once they’re done murdering everyone else out there.” The Stranger blew out a breath. “Who is the senior military commander?”
Jaime looked up fully then, looking at Elia, her hand outstretched, pointing at him.
“Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard, Holiness.” Elia said evenly and honestly.
His cheeks were still wet as the god looked back down upon him.
The god looked upon him, and he felt measured. She turned, reaching down, grasping him by the upper arms, and lifted him straight to his feet. “Jaime, I need to know, can you secure this castle? Is that a thing you can do? If I clear out most of the enemies can you secure it?”
“I-” Jaime’s voice choked off, could he? His blood rushed through his veins, “I killed my King.”
The Stranger shook him slightly, “Hey, look at me. If that man was going to set the whole city on fire you did the right thing. And right now, that baby is your new King. Can you protect him? Yes or no.”
Her grip was firm yet not cruel, and it felt as if it dragged him through the glass, above water, to reality. He felt like gasping with it, though he did not. He nodded, “I can protect him, till my last breath.”
“Good, do that, keep them alive, I’ll end the rest of this.” The Stranger said, and Jaime believed her.
////
Eddard Stark had a burning in his gut with the knowledge that Tywin Lannister had reached the city first. If he secured the city and took the Red Keep first, he might just decide to crown himself King, and then this war would not be nearly won, but only just beginning. And more than that, he did not trust a man of Tywin’s reputation with the care of the city. If he would drown his own bannerman, what would he do to those who owed him no allegiance or fealty? It was a dark thought. But this was war, and Ned had had scarcely any thoughts that were not so since the first information had flown to the Eirye.
It was different to see it, however. The bells rang frantically, screams filling the air, smoke, and ash in the air, over the stench of the city was the coppery tang of blood in the air. It was revolting, horrifying, and yet…
“Something is wrong, My Lord.” William Dustin said uneasily from beside him. He was seated strongly on his steed’s back, his recently shaved face grim as he looked at the city before them. “We should not ride straight into that.”
As he spoke the ground beneath their horses bucked and heaved like the ocean. The men cried out, the horses braying in fear. And then the Old Gate, the more northern-facing entrance into the city they had ridden for, and on the opposite side of the city the Lannister forces would have reached first. No, the Lannister forces would have come through the Lion Gate to the west of the city. But none of that was important. What was important was the Old Gate crumbled.
There was horrible cracking as the stones split and shattered, collapsing down upon itself.
Ned grabbed onto his reins, holding tight with his legs lest he be thrown from his horse, the men around him crying out as they did their best to retain their seats as well. He grimaced, looking back at the gates.
“By the gods!” Theo Wull cried out as he brought his steed back under control, grabbing the reins of Glover’s horse to keep it from bolting. “What could ‘ave caused that!?”
Ned’s face was tight, teeth clenched as he looked at the dust as the true damage done was becoming clear. “I know not, but we must breach through this gate or we have no hope of reaching the Red Keep before Tywin.”
“We can clear the rubble fast enough.” William looked to the host behind them, and then back to the gate. “But if it is well defended it may not be fast enough, my Lord.”
His gloves creaked from how hard his hands clenched. If this war was to end, this night must end with him holding the iron throne. It was the only way to bring the orgy of death and horror that was this war to a swift end. “We send a sally forth to take the remains of the gate. Then as planned, Lord Glover, you will take Dragonpit and secure our rear. Ser Ryswell, you will take your men and secure the street of sisters’. As planned the fastest troops will ride with me straight for the Red Keep.”
“Aye, I’ll go and secure the rubble and what parts of the wall we need to breach into the city.” William bent his head and then rode to his men baring the double long axes of his House.
Ned turned, they would need horses and rope and their ground forces to move the rubble. It would take near an hour to clear the way, but it would be faster than riding to the Dragon Gate, or worse, the Gate of the Gods. There would be no hope to reach the Red Keep first if his army was forced to wheel itself to a point of breach further from the Red Keep than the gate they were currently at.
Ned felt the heavy weight of his sword on his hip as he stood on the streets. The air was full of chaos, but distant here. The smallfolk in this part of the city were hiding in their homes, the lights snuffed out. It left him uneasy, as did what it meant for the gate. No Lannister men, no Targaryen men, nothing. The rubble had not been guarded. The guard houses and posts to the wall abandoned.
“This is not natural, Ned.” Howland quietly uttered, his eyes shifty and anxious in how they took in the empty street.
He agreed, but there was no good to be had from speaking to that. The sound of the sacking of the city reached them here, even if it was distant and something about it was…wrong. “We secure what of the city we can. Any man who rapes or loots put to the sword, do not engage the Lannister forces unless there is no choice.” Ned met the eyes of his trusted generals. “You have your orders.”
He turned, not waiting for his men to acknowledge his orders, he knew they would follow them. Ned grabbed the pommel of the saddle and meant to mount, cries of alarm had him drawing his sword and spinning for the threat, his mind cursing him for falling for so obvious a trap. He knew better!
It was not Targaryen or Lannister men setting upon them from the silent locked doors. No, it was not that.
A rush of darkness and wind slammed into the road between them and the rest of the city. Ice and cold washed across all of them in a great rush so sharp and sudden it struck terror into his heart.
Ned refused to flinch, even as his breath froze in the night air. He cried out, his men could not run. “HOLD!”
Before them stood a woman clothed in black fabric of men’s garb. The very air trembled and wavered around her with visible power. Blood dripped from her, some of it even sprayed across her face. And oh, her face. Beyond the blood, the foreign features was strength. Strength and sharp eyes.
And then she stepped forward and the very ground trembled and heaved with each step.
A god.
This woman could be nothing else save a god. No mortal could contain such power, such authority. No lady, no queen, no empress. Divinity alone.
Ned could no more have stopped his men from dropping to their knees than he could have stayed his own knees from bending.
Stranger, Death.
He bent.
“Who is in charge here?” It was an order, she expected to be answered.
Ned looked up, “I am, Holiness.” What horror had they brought to this land, what blood had they soaked the ground in to call a god here? Surely the Targaryens had invoked this. Their atrocities so much greater? The cold rage curled in his gut that had not left him since the news of his brother, father, sister. Their justice and vengeance could not be more terrible than that which had caused it, no matter how terrible.
“Get up,” She ordered, the ground ceasing to heave, the power lessening, but still there was a flutter, a chill that would let none forget, even if her visage was not terrible enough a reminder.
He obeyed, to do else was death. So Eddard Stark rose to his feet, “We have no quarrel with The Seven, Stranger.”
“You got through that gate faster than I thought.” Her voice was cold, calculating. “Are you here to burn, murder, and rape your way through the city? Because that is not going to go well for you.”
It was half threat, half promise.
Ned could feel the terror of his men, the knife’s edge he was on. It should be Brandon, Brandon would know how to preserve their lives. But Brandon was dead. It was why he was here. “We are here to take the city, to secure the Mad King, to end the war, holy Stranger.”
“The Mad King is dead, I will not let the violence continue.” Her attention was focused on him, weighing his worth.
It was a wash of horror, Aerys was dead. They were too late. He was too late.
He did not know how his voice remained steady, yet it did. “That is grave news, holy Stranger.”
She paused, her head cocking to one side. “Are you with the lions or the dragons?”
“Neither, holy Stranger. I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell;” The words were thick, the titles felt wrong on his tongue, “Warden of the North and I serve neither the dragons who murdered my family nor the lions of the Rock.”
“Huh,” She approached ignoring the unhappy tension in the still kneeling men. Nearly close enough to reach out and touch she looked more human, no matter how divine. A god folded and bent into flesh, the strangeness of the world from ages past. “If your army enters the city I’ll kill them. You and a small party can head to the castle. We’ll talk. But I have more lions to deal with. Start killing the people and I’ll boil you alive.” She raised a brow in challenge.
He swallowed, but his duty left him with only one choice. “Then I will ride to the castle, holy Stranger.”
“See you there, Lord Eddard.” There was something in her voice, something confident and superior that felt prickling and wrong. Even when it was the height of foolishness to take insult at arrogance from a god. What was he, and all his men and righteous fury before her feet?
She did not wait to hear his reply, simply vanishing in a gust of freezing air straight up into the smokey darkness as quickly as she had come. A shiver no cold could have invoked in him ran down Ned’s spine.
The ride down the streets of King’s Landing was an unreal horror. Ned and his party of six trusted companions were silent. The streets were full of the still wild ringing of the bells, the barking of dogs, but the rest…the rest was as silent as they were. Some streets were untouched, and most of the streets they rode were untouched. Just houses closed and locked, the small folk hiding in their homes and wretched holes in this overfilled vipers’ nest. And yet eyes, hundreds of eyes followed their progress, peeking out of cracks and windows.
But oh as they got closer to the Red Keep the remains of the violence of this night were evident. The dead, the dead sprawled across the streets, burnt-out husks of buildings barely extinguished. The truth of what atrocity the Lannisters had brought to the city was painted across the street. The mutilated bodies of the small folk lay in the streets. The images of their faces twisted in gruesome terror and pain burned into Ned’s mind.
There was a pile of small bodies, small bodies with clothing torn from them and bleeding.
The bile built in Ned’s throat, the horror of what the Lannisters had done, the blood price that had called the Stranger.
It was not just the innocent, however.
Smears and crumpled bodies lay strewn throughout the street, some slumped, some just paste leaking from armor. It had been right not to challenge the Stranger on her threats to their army, not even the grandest force the North had ever raised could have survived the death they passed.
As they rode, he saw a man in Lannister colors impaled on a spear that had been punched through his breastplate, chest and so far into the wall of the building behind that the man just hung there. His feet dangled near half a foot above the road. Despite the breastplate, the man was otherwise unarmored, his helmet gone, leaving a face bleeding from every orifice in a way that said worse had happened to him than the spear, the way his pants awkwardly were twisted about his knees, his cock out. What sin had seen this man destroyed was not a mystery, even to a stupid man.
Occasionally they passed living Lannister men, men curled and shaking in corners, some sobbing, some just standing there. But they were few. Ned did not think the people of King’s Landing would leave these men unmolested long. The violence of this night was not done. Like a fire after having water poured over it, the last of the embers still burning for some time yet unless they were stamped out.
The real embers of burning buildings that had been put out still burned. If not seen to, it would be easy for the city to re-light.
Ned’s horse pulled at the reins, uneasy at the violence and blood. He laid a hand on the side of the beast’s neck. If this was the edges of the horror, what was it like closer to the Lion’s Gate?
////
Daisy stopped, one hand grabbing the side of a building as she wretched into the gutter. The smell of death and smoke clogged her nose. If she stopped she was going to break down. She’d been in fights, she’d killed, but this, this was different. But she couldn’t stop. Wiping at her mouth with the back of her arm, straightening. The last of the lion faction had fled the city, finally. What stragglers there were were in too small of numbers to be a threat. That was good, the sacking of the city done.
Half a million people, she was doing this because there had been half a million people being ripped apart by men with swords and violence.
She wanted to claw at her skin where she could feel the blood clinging to her.
But castle, there was a castle with a baby King under the protection of a teenager having a dissociative breakdown and a depressingly small amount of men. And the army of people with wolves. That…they had to find a diplomatic solution to that, she wasn’t…fighting another army was…she could, but it was horrifying.
Breathing in she braced herself, and shot herself back for the castle, leaving the gate she had broken to keep the lion faction from making its way back into the city now that they’d fled. She would force the violence to stop. Because it was wrong. So she’d do the performance of her life, the act of her life. What was it Andrew had said, as a foster kid she had always been prepared to act to earn the love of the people around her. So she could lie, but if she could lie and act and force the violence to stop, she’d make it stop. This blood was not going to come out.
////
Elia Martell shushed Rhaenys, gently brushing her daughter’s cheek. The children were tired and scared. The dawn would come soon, they’d never been kept awake so late, the exhaustion was leaving both children cranky and fussy. She knew her own fear must be being sensed by her children, but she could no more banish her own terror than she could banish theirs. In this, she was grateful for her two remaining ladies that Ser Jaime had retrieved.
Daenerys Celtigar had Aegon wrapped in her arms, Clare Chelsted stood ready to take him should Daenerys’ arms tire. The pale, and gaunt face of Clare was unhealthy appearing in the throne room they had remained in since the Stranger had brought Elia there. Which was the conundrum. The Stranger. For that was who the woman must be.
One moment she was helpless, with nothing to do to save herself, her son, and her daughter hiding in a nightgown under Rhaegar’s bed. It hurt, that Rhaenys had sought out the protection of the dead father who had condemned them all. Who had not loved them enough to protect them, who had seen them as insufficient. The pain of that could have choked her.
But then the Stranger had been there and had protected them.
Elia knew not what to expect from the Stranger, of all the Seven the Faith revered there was a distance to the Stranger. Men shied away from Death. It was only natural to fear the one end no man could avoid. The member of the Seven least prayed to, the one least spoken of. Yet, the Stranger was here, a woman at that.
From what Elia had seen that was a contrast of terrible gentleness and horrible violence. That Rhaenys was unharmed from being held and carried in Death’s arms. That Death had dealt kindly and with patience with Elia and Aegon. Yet that kindness, patience, and even gentleness did not mean Lannister men had not dropped dead by the dozen. That she had not put her fist through the Mountain’s skull. Her voice being soft had not made it any less commanding.
It left her terrified and unsure. She did not doubt the Stranger would return, and when she did, Elia did not know what she would be faced with. The gods were fickle things, unknowable in so many ways, and yet one was here.
“Your Highness,” Ser Jaime approached, bowing his head with all due respect, all the proper knight. It did not erase the image of him kneeling in the blood of the king he had murdered and crying like a terrified boy before the Stranger. “I’ve had what members of the court that could be found locked in their rooms, as you commanded.”
She was sitting in a chair that had been brought and set before the iron throne. Elia had not been so daring as to take that seat, to sit that seat while this night was undecided could condemn her children to death as easy as saving them. Until she knew which, she would not be so bold. “I thank you, good Ser. The defenses hold well?”
“They have not been tested in nigh two hours now,” Ser Jaime told her again, he’d had such reported to her earlier. “The Lannister forces from what can be seen from the battlements, retreated from the city, and the Northern host has halted at the outer walls of the city, your Highness.”
Elia carded her fingers through her daughter’s hair, hoping to keep the girl calm. “The Stranger…has she returned, Ser?”
Ser Jaime shook his head, a reverence on his face so unnatural to a Lannister’s countenance that on any other night, she would have thought herself mad for seeing it. But they were all humbled this night; gods she was in a nightgown with a robe wrapped around her, her child in sleeping clothes curled in her lap.
“There have been glimpses in the streets of what must be her Holiness, but never long or within the walls of the Keep, your Highness.” He answered her.
A gold cloak, bloody bandages wrapped around his head, such that his helmet was long forgot, rushed into the throne room, bowing as he reached them. “Your Highness, Ser, riders approaching the gates.”
“Go, see what this new approach heralds, Ser Jaime.” That she was forced to trust this man, barely out of boyhood, who had murdered the King just hours ago, to keep her and her children safe left her heart beating a touch too fast. But he was all she had. Aerys had banished or burned all from her Household who held any Dornish blood or allegiance the same day they had had word of Rhaegar’s death.
Ser Jaime bowed sharply, his cloak stained with the crimson of his king’s blood. “I will see it done, your Highness.”
Elia returned to trying to comfort her daughter as their protector and the injured gold cloak left for the gates of the keep. There was nothing else she could do. She was in truth near as powerless tonight as she’d been since the day Rhaegar had seen her suckling their son from her birthing bed and found them wanting in the face of his want for prophecy. But if what power she had had was taken so easily by mere words of her husband, had she ever truly had any in the first place?
So she comforted her daughter and hoped her son remained asleep where he was cradled in Lady Celtigar’s arms. And prayed they would be spared this night, that they would see the dawn, and a thousand things besides. Their fates lay in the hands of the Stranger, the few hundred surviving Targaryen guardsmen, and mayhap an eighth of the Gold Cloaks would not hold the Red Keep if either of the two armies outside their walls brought their weight to bare. So she prayed.
The sound of the great doors opening woke Aegon, he began to wail with all the force his tiny lungs could produce. A true dragon, it was horribly loud and painful to hear.
Elia opened her mouth to ask for her son to be passed to her, only Aegon’s cries set off Rhaenys who’d only just settled into a half-sleeping state. She could have cried herself as she pressed a kiss to her daughter’s temple, “Shush, my sweet girl, all is well my little dragon.” Her hand rubbed gentle circles against her trembling back.
“I’ve got him,” A voice said, a voice Elia could never forget, no matter how little she’d heard it speak.
She looked up, terror and shock racing through her as the blood-soaked visage of the Stranger strode the last few yards to the dias, before neatly lifting Aegon out of the silently panicking lady Celtigar’s arms.
“Holiness, you’ve returned,” Elia’s voice cracked as her arms tightened their hold on Rhaenys.
The Stranger just hummed in response, easily holding Aegon, her eyes fixed on his face. The change of arms seemed to have shocked Aegon enough that the cry caught in his throat as he blinked curiously at this new person holding him, his tiny face considering in that way he would get before deciding if he should continue to scream or not.
It felt as if the hall held its breath as god and babe seemed to regard one another.
Aegon reached out his little hand out, patting at the Stranger’s blood-streaked face. The Stranger’s face was lit with a wonderfully gentle smile.
The god, naturally and easily settled Aegon against her, him seeming happy to settle against her. She pressed a kiss to his little forehead, leaving traces of blood in his pale silver hair. She looked up then, her brown eyes meeting Elia’s.
“Your Highness,” A stiff, very tense, and awkward voice with a thick Northern brogue came from behind the Stranger.
Elia’s attention snapped to where a man stood she recognized, Eddard Stark. He was pale, and no doubt as affected as all of them at the presence of one of the Seven. “Lord Stark, you have not come to surrender I think?”
Ser Jaime settled protectively at the floor in front of Elia.
“No, your Highness, I have not.” Eddard Stark’s face was grim. “I came to take the Red Keep and secure King Aerys.”
The Stranger spoke, “Does anyone think you’ll solve the civil war tonight?” Neither of them replied, leaving the Stranger to continue. “In that case does anyone disagree you should put a stop to the violence and negotiate or whatever later?”
“No, Holiness,” Elia swallowed, it was clear what the god wished for. “Your council is wise, I believe.” She looked at Eddard, she did not know him, but she knew what Ashara had told her. She knew his reputation as a quiet, shy, and good man. “Lord Stark, Aerys Targaryen is dead, there is no need for us to continue this war tonight.”
Eddard gave a stiff nod, “I have no desire to put this city to the torch. If you surrender yourself and your children, you will be treated with all due honor and held in my protection on my honor, your Highness.”
“If I do that, I give up my son’s claim to the throne and must put all trust in your goodness, Lord Stark. I would prefer time to consider your offer.” The words of court tasted…wrong on her tongue. This had been a long night, and she wished to hug her children and sleep. To have time to settle on what to do.
Ser Jaime spoke, “If I may, your Highness?”
Elia waved her assent to him, hoping he saw some solution to their present predicament.
“A truce. I will ride out and speak with what remains of the Lannister army. They will listen to me, and I should see them camped down for the night outside the walls. Then surely Lord Stark is capable of taking over the security of the city. It would require some three thousand men to take control of the walls and the city itself. Lord Stark and the rebels will have control of the city and may make the Dragonpit a secured base inside the walls. House Targaryen retains the Red Keep. With that, we could retire to our rests until negotiations may be had, if that pleases you, your Highness, my Lord.” Though the way his eyes flicked to the god said whose approval he truly sought.
Elia could have wept at the possibility of delay. “I would not be opposed to this agreement if you are amenable, Lord Stark?”
“I will accept the truce, your Highness.” Eddard tipped his head.
The Stranger cleared her throat, “By securing the city, you understand that does not mean your men will be murdering or raping or stealing while burning the place down?” And there was something truly dangerous in her expression.
Eddard didn’t shrink under the look, though his already pale and grim face turned grimmer still. “I will take the head of any man who violates the peace myself, holy Stranger.”