Chapter Text
Jaime races up the beach towards the castle, attempting to keep a quick pace that prevents him from second guessing himself as he contemplates just how he’s supposed to even find Cersei in that damn castle. A daunting feat, but he must try. He can’t simply abandon his family to this chaos when he is all too aware of how close she is. Hells, even when he tried to abandon her, he’d still felt the pull to go back. Mayhaps it’s weakness for him to give into the compulsion, but what would it make him if he didn’t even try for his own family?
"It's the right thing. I'm doing the right thing."
That’s the thought he repeats to keep himself going.
So lost in his thoughts is he, that he doesn’t even notice the threat until it’s calling out to him.
“Kingslayer!”
The unfamiliar voice startles him, but it’s the ring of drawn steel that causes him to halt in his steps.
He turns to the voice but does not recognise the man it belongs to. Then again, plenty have claimed to know him when he cannot return the sentiment. This one is tall, almost as tall as Jaime, much heavier set, he would be difficult to knock down, with fair hair and material drawn over one eye as some kind of eye patch. Quite a blind spot. Could make up for Jaime's lack of a sword-hand. If he’s lucky.
“At last!” The scruffy, drenched man declares. He looks like he walked straight out of the sea. And Jaime realises, then, that this man must belong to the Iron Fleet.
“Am I supposed to know you?” He asks as his hand slides to the hilt of his sword, prepared to draw. He tries to temper his flaring irritation, but it rises nonetheless. He doesn’t have time for this when he needs to get to Cersei.
“I,” the man says as he draws to a halt. “am Euron Greyjoy. King of the Iron Islands. Soon to be King of all of Westeros, when this war is done.”
Jaime curses. He recalls Cersei agreeing to meet with the pirate before he’d left. “Congratulations, Edmond” he spits out. “I’m sure you’ll be well rewarded. But we don’t have time for this. We have to get Cersei out of King’s Landing.”
“Do we?” Euron cocks his head to the side with an arrogant smirk. “I’ve been waiting for this moment, Kingslayer! Reckon she might reward me quite handsomely if I brought her your head. And if not, I think the dragon queen would owe me thanks as well.”
Greyjoy steps sideways, drawing Jaime into the dance as they circle around each other. “Brave man, playing both sides for fools," Jaime spits out, anger coursing through him. Cersei always did have bad taste in allies. But this surely had to be one of her worst yet. "Do you really think either of them would make you a king? A snivelling weasel like you?”
The Greyjoy merely smiled. "I'd say I have more of a chance than you do, sister-fucker."
Jaime exhales his frustration as the Greyjoy moved to strike. “Really don't have time for this, Elrond,” he mutters as he moves in to block the strike. But it’s a weak effort and he is sent stumbling backwards to hold his balance.
Greyjoy cackles with glee. “This'll be an easier fight than I thought,” he said with another swing that Jaime has to evade entirely to avoid the blow. "I'm even a little bit disappointed.”
Jaime just grits his teeth as he holds firm against the Greyjoy’s barrage. He looses a breath as he forces himself to calm and wait, searching for an opening.
Euron smirks at him. “I see now why the Queen was so eager to be rid of you. The famed Kingslayer reduced to… well, you.”
Snarling, Jaime moves in to strike. The ring of clashing steel sings through the air as Greyjoy matches him stroke for stroke, pushing him backwards as Jaime struggles to gain the upper hand. But damn him, a fool this pirate may be, but he makes for a formidable opponent as he puts his weight behind each driving blow. Jaime just grits his teeth as he holds firm against the Greyjoy’s barrage. He’d recovered much of his strength since leaving King’s Landing, but its not enough.
In his prime, this would have been over already, he curses inwardly as he steps wide to evade once more.
In my prime, he would be dead before he even had a chance to get in my way, and I would be with Cersei by now.
Cersei.
How funny that he once promised to burn the world down for her, and now here he is barely able to even fight for her.
He grits his teeth as he strengthens his resolve. So close to his last task, and he’s blocked by a fucking Greyjoy.
He roars in fury as he lunges forward. Euron parries his sword away and slams his elbow into Jaime’s face. Jaime’s head snaps back, hard, and he grunts in pain as black spots erupt behind his eyes. He lashes out blindly, slamming his gold fist into Euron’s chin and sending him reeling backwards.
Just as he advances, they are interrupted by the dragon’s screech echoing from overhead and Jaime flinches as its shadow passes over them, its fire destroying a parapet above and sending it hurtling down the cliff face. Jaime stumbles as the ground shakes beneath them and Euron collides into him, sending them both sprawling across the rocks as his sword clatters uselessly across the rocks.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, he curses inwardly as Euron slams his elbow into Jaime’s gut, knocking the air out of his lungs with a wheeze. Jaime swings his gold hand up, catching Euron’s jaw and sending him sprawling to the ground. He climbs on top of the pirate and punches him, hard, and then again for good measure!
Not in seven hells was he letting this lowlife get in his way.
A sharp pain erupts in his side and he straightens, suddenly. Euron smiles as he shoves Jaime off him and punches him in the gut as he pushes the knife in deeper.
Jaime sprawls onto his back, the knife slicing further up his side as he collapses. His vision clouds as his own blood soaks the rocks beneath him.
Euron rises in his periphery. “Not a bad fight, I suppose. For a cripple.”
Jaime can feel his body growing tired.
No. It can’t… it can’t end like this. Not with Cersei still…. he has to save her first.
His sword gleams from somewhere above his head and it takes all of Jaime’s remaining strength to push himself up the rocks to reach for it.
He hears Euron growl from above him and he grabs for his sword just as Euron kicks him hard in the abdomen, knocking the air from his lungs as his blade slices through Jaime’s ribs. Jaime grunts as he turns to meet Euron and buries his sword in the pirate’s gut, stopping him in his tracks.
Euron glances down at the blade in surprise. Jaime can’t stop the triumphant grin from spreading across his lips. “What was that about your reward?” he sneers at the pirate as he presses his advantage. He kicks the pirate in the gut and sends him reeling backward, stumbling to the ground. Jaime retracts his sword from the pirate’s gut and staggers to his feet. “You’re nothing, Elmo. Cersei will never remember you. The dragon queen will never remember you. And when you succumb to your injuries, all you’ll be is another nameless corpse.”
Euron’s face contorts with fury and he kicks out at Jaime, catching him in the chest. Jaime hits the ground with a grunt and Euron clambers on top of him and wraps his hands around Jaime’s neck. “I got you,” he growls in Jaime’s face as he squeezes the breath from his lungs. “Before I die, I’ll still be the man who-“
He stills, suddenly, and a look of shock crosses his face as his grip slackens instantly. Jaime’s breath is painful as his gaze falls to the small blade protruding from Euron’s chest. The blade disappears just as quickly and Euron slumps to the side.
Standing in his place is Arya Stark.
Arya’s gaze meets Jaime’s and she falters for a moment, looking into his pained, green eyes. When she leapt from the boat and made her way back to the shore, she hadn’t yet made up her mind if it was for Jaime or Cersei. She still doesn’t quite know. She fights the urge to run to his side now and instead moves her attention from him to Euron sprawled on the ground and breathing hard.
Well, not for long.
She retrieves Jaime’s sword from the ground, turning it in her hand once, and recalling the weight of it.
This will do.
Wordlessly, she aims the sword squarely at Euron, the pointy end resting against the flesh of his throat as she looks down at him with steely resolve. “Euron Greyjoy, was it?” She asks in a cold, bland tone that masks the rage building beneath her skin. So tempted was she to deliver much worse than a clean death.
And Euron smiles a bloody smile, mirth shining in his eyes despite his circumstances. “Call me Kingslayer slayer, if you wish. I know I got him. The Queen will be pleased, I’ll wager.”
Arya’s entire body grows cold with a lethal fury. She ignores his taunts as her sword digs into his neck, drawing blood. He can keep talking nonsense. He’d already sealed his fate. “Euron Greyjoy,” she recites dispassionately. “Valar Morghulis.”
“I killed him,” he declares, raving up at the sky filled with ash. “I killed Jaime-“
Arya draws her sword across his throat, cutting off his words as she sliced through bone. He slackens instantly and his last words silence in his throat as he chokes on blood until he falls still, dead all too quickly.
Arya doesn’t spare him a second thought as she turns back to Jaime.
Jaime is dying.
That much is clear to Arya as she watches the blood seep through his clothes into the ground beneath him; his skin pallid with death’s touch as the colour slowly drains from his face.
He looks so frail, it might be kinder to put him out of his misery. But even the thought of doing so causes a painful twisting in her chest.
How unfair, given everything he’d put her through.
It was bad enough that he went back for Cersei at all; a fool’s errand.
And now he’s dying for her.
Of course it’s Cersei’s fault. Everything always seems to come back to Cersei.
Fury erupts in Arya’s chest as she looks up to the red keep keep half in ruins now. Would Cersei even be alive in there somewhere or crushed beneath the rubble? Would they have stood a chance of finding her at all? Arya is almost tempted to take that chance, now, except…
Jaime is dying.
She can’t leave him here.
Loosing a shaky breath, she turns her attention back to him.
Jaime looks surprised to see her as she kneels down beside him to inspect his wounds properly. “You… what are you... doing here?” He asks though shaky breaths.
She curses when she sees how deep his injuries truly are. They’ll kill him if he doesn’t get proper attention quickly, and Arya certainly can’t do that here. “We have to get you to the boat. Find help outside the city,” she says as she rips off her tunic and wraps it around his bleeding torso. It’s not nearly enough, but it would have to do for now. “We can… we can get help. But you have to move.” She tries to keep her voice controlled despite her growing worry over him bleeding out in front of her.
Jaime lets out a long, shaky breath. “You shouldn’t… you shouldn't be here.”
“I’m not the only one,” she growls back. “ Now, come on. You’ve got to get up.” She tries to pull him up, but he either doesn't have the energy to move or simply won't try. Both possibilities are worrying thoughts for Arya to confront.
“Cersei...” he mutters, his eyes fluttering closed with pain pinching his brow.
“Don’t remind me,” Arya growls. “And you said you weren’t here for her. You’re a better liar than I thought.”
He shakes his head. “I wasn’t. Not then. Thought I could... at least save her. She's still… she's still in there.” His voice is filled with quiet distress.
Arya grips his shoulder to pull his focus back to her. “It’s over, Jaime!” she hisses quietly. “There’s nothing you can do. You’ll only bleed out on the steps trying to make it to her corpse. Do you really want to die knowing it was a damn Greyjoy who did it?”
Jaime coughs a laugh. “Sounds… rather pathetic when you put it that way.”
“That’s because it is.” She pushes on his back, trying to move him, but he does nothing to assist her. “Now come on. You’re not dying here because of one stupid choice.”
Jaime sputters another laugh. “Had to try, right?" he mutters through his pain, trying to smile, though it looks more like a grimace. “Suppose I am simply... destined to remain a failure.” He closes his eyes. “What a… jape.”
Arya can feel the panic starting to well up inside her, but she squashes it down and clasps his head in her hands. “No you don’t. Look at me, Jaime,” she implores him.
Jaime only gives the slightest shake of his head. “Too late,” he mutters. “You should… find your family. See they're safe. Don’t... don't worry about me.”
“I’m not leaving you," Arya growls firmly “You have to get up.”
“Do I?”
“Yes!” she hisses through gritted teeth as she tries to wrench him up again. But he is so very heavy and stubborn in resisting her efforts.
Until he grabs her hand with a tight grip, startling her. “Arya.” He is looking at her with pleading eyes now. She knows what he wants.
Damn him. “No.”
“Please,” he implores her.
Arya’s breath rattles in her chest as she shakes her head. “No, Jaime.”
“You never made it to her either,” he implores her. “If not a… mercy, think of it as a proxy. Whichever works.”
Arya shoves at his chest, refusing to hear him. “I’m not leaving you here to die.”
“You know… that’s not… what I’m asking. Arya.”
But she shakes her head again as she tries in vain to pull him up. “I said no.”
“It’s more than I deserve.”
“I don't care what you deserve! You have to fight, Jaime! I need you to fight!” She pulls him up with all the strength she can muster.
Jaime only looks at her with a strange expression. “Why?” he asks her in a gentle tone.
“Because,” She growls through her endeavour to pull him to his feet. “You’re an… idiot.”
Jaime is still looking at her strangely but he seems to muster his last remaining strength, and with a lot of help from Arya, he manages to push himself to his feet. He sways dangerously when he stands and Arya holds onto him firmly to keep him from stumbling back down. She knows he won't get back up again if he falls.
She can feel his eyes on her as she pulls him back down the beach towards the boat. “What?" she growls through gritted teeth, refusing to look at him.
“Nothing, I suppose,” he murmurs. “It’s strange how you care, s’ all.” His voice is so raspy his words are barely a whisper.
Arya doesn't know what to say to that, so she says nothing at all, and focuses her efforts on getting them to safety.
The dragon shrieks from somewhere across the city and the thought troubles her that there is not much safety left to find with the dragon queen on her rampage.
But she must try.
Jaime feels the heavy wave of unconsciousness tugging at him as Arya hauls him into the small vessel, doing her best to prop him up. “We’ll get help soon,” he hears her tell him as she settles herself opposite him.
But her voice sounds muffled and far away to his ears and he struggles to see her face clearly. He is assuredly fading. And he can tell by the look on her face that she knows that too.
Of course she does.
He can only manage a nod as he closes his eyes, the pain of his wounds starting to feel numb already.
Until a sharp strike from Arya jolts him back to the present.
“Stay awake, you dolt,” she scolds him like a child.
Jaime tries to laugh, but winces with a pained cough for his efforts. She's trying awfully hard to save him. He honestly hadn't expected her to think him worth the effort. Hells, he hadn’t expected her to follow him at all. “All this… for an oathbreaker,” he mumbles out loud, trying to focus on Arya’s face to keep himself from slipping into unconsciousness. “What a curiosity you are, Arya Stark.”
Her expression falters for only a moment before returning to hardened determination.
Jaime begins to sway in place, dangerously close to toppling over the edge of the boat. Small, strong hands land on him, holding him upright, “Jaime?” She says, and he can hear the panicked edge to her word, but he can’t find words of his own as he slumps against her. Gods he feels so useless.
Let the gods take me already.
He almost resents Arya for refusing him in that request.
The one thing she promised him, and she couldn’t even do that. Some faceless girl she was.
Then she says his name again. “Jaime?” Her grip on him constricts tighter, bringing her into focus, if only slightly.
Something in him softens at her concern and he covers her hand with his. “Arya…”
She shakes her head. “Don’t.” She scrambles for the oars to move them back in the direction of the shore and Jaime can't do much but watch her work and the fear that slowly starts to show in her eyes. Though Jaime can feel cold numbness slowly take him, it seems to only heighten the sudden sharp pain that erupts in his chest as he notices how scared she truly is. For him.
She must be as aware of his fate as he is. With his injuries…
He reaches out to her, and his hand finds her cheek. She flinches at his touch, but doesn't pull away this time as she looks back down to him. “It's alright,” he attempts to reassure her.
But Arya is shaking her head. “No. You’re not dying, Jaime. Not today,” she says insistently. Determination flares in her eyes as she continues on.
Jaime almost smiles at the sentiment. But everything feels so heavy, and instead he closes his eyes, allowing darkness to claim him.
He’d stopped responding halfway to the shore. His breathing is slowing to a dangerous degree and yet Arya just can’t bring herself to give up.
He’s not dying today. He can’t die today.
She won’t let that bitch, Cersei, win. Not this time.
So she summons all the resolve she can muster, and she gets them to shore, out of the city of ashes and with little idea of where to take him.
But she can’t give up. As long as Jaime still draws breath, she has to keep going.
Why?
Well, she doesn’t have time to think on why.
Despite her strength starting to fail her, Arya drags Jaime up the shore, trying desperately to stay calm as her nerves threaten to shatter completely. “Hold on, Jaime,” she mumbles under her breath. Hold on.
She startles as a large shadow passes over her, and she jumps to her feet instinctively, drawing her sword in a protective stance above Jaime’s dying form.
But she recognises the figure.
Sandor!
“Going to kill me, girl?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.
Arya is so relieved to see him, she almost cries. Almost.
Her hands start shaking as she lowers her sword. “Help me."