Bells ring out in the capital city of King’s Landing. Lord Jon Arryn of the Eyrie, Warden of the East and Hand of the King, had unexpectedly passed away. As his body lay in the throne room, the Silent Sisters prepare his body for burial. Elsewhere, in the balcony where the noble ladies of the court stand, Queen Cersei of House Lannister is seen contemplating as she leans against the edge of the railing, taking a moment to observe Lord Arryn’s corpse.

The sound of someone’s approaching footsteps break her concentration. The person in question is revealed to be her twin brother, Ser Jaime Lannister. One of the most skilled swordsmen in all of Westeros, Jaime was appointed as the youngest member of the Kingsguard at age 15 to the last of the Targaryen kings, Aerys the Second of His Name. Unfortunately, he gained an infamous reputation throughout the Seven Kingdoms as “Kingslayer” (much to his irritation) for stabbing King Aerys in the back and killing him at the foot of the Iron Throne itself, thereby breaking his sworn vows to protect him.

As Jaime leans against the edge, he looks to counsel his twin sister. “As your brother, I feel it’s my duty to warn you: You worry too much. It’s starting to show.”

“And you never worry about anything,” Cersei responds. “When we were 7, you jumped off the cliffs at Casterly Rock. A 100-foot drop into the water. And you were never afraid.”

“There was nothing to be afraid of until you told father and uncle,” Jaime said humorously before deepening his tone of voice to imitate their father. “‘We’re Lannisters. And Lannisters don’t act like fools.’”

Cersei smiles before taking another look at Jon Arryn.

“What if Jon Arryn told someone?” she asks.

“But who would he tell?” says Jaime.

“My husband,” Cersei answers despondently.

Jaime merely shrugged his shoulders. “If he told the king, both our heads would be skewered on the city gates by now. Whatever Jon Arryn knew or didn’t know, it died with him. And Robert will choose a new Hand of the King, someone to do his job while he’s off fucking boars and hunting whores. Or is it the other way around? And life will go on.”

“You should be Hand of the King,” Cersei offers.

“That’s an honor I can do without,” Jaime shakes his head. “Their days are too long, their lives are too short.”

Elsewhere, far to the north side of Westeros, in a tavern, in a room where a bearded man laid with his hair down and sweat covered his brow and he tossed and turned in the tavern's bed. "WEAKLING! Couldn't save your own family from their doom! How weak!" The voice echoed in his nightmare as screams of his parents and brother also echoed in his dream and visions of the past. The mad king's cackle and the rotting burning smell of his parents flesh as they burnt away by the wildfire.

He recalled it as clear as day in his nightmare, King Aerys Targaryen had  grinned down at him and his father, looking all the world like a gargoyle with his long uncut nails and unruly hair. "Stark." He barked "Your son is a traitor. He threatened my son. He insulted my house. You CANNOT INSULT THE DRAGON!" Aerys rose form his chair with the last few words, glaring down upon him. "Bring in his son. Let them see each other one last time before they die!"

Minutes later Brandon Stark was similarly dragged into the throne room. He was forced to his knees beside his father. His hair and clothes were unkempt from his time in the Black cells and his left eye was swollen shut from a blow he had taken when he was arrested. He held himself gingerly, as though he had several broken ribs.

"What do you two have to say for yourselves? Any last words before you die?" Aerys asked. Rickard tilted his head slightly and glanced at his son. Neither spoke a word. Aerys shifted, unused to anyone ignoring him. "I am your King and you will answer me!"

Rickard shifted his gaze back to the king. "I demand a Trial by Combat." He said, so softly that everyone had to strain to hear him. Jamie and Torrhen's heart sunk in his chest as he realised what Rickard Stark had asked for. He knew what would happen now, and now both of them were truly lost. Aerys grinned and cackled maniacally. "The champion of house Targaryen is fire Lord Stark. You will burn like a roast on a spit! SEIZE HIM! AND MAKE THAT ONE WATCH!"

The guards rushed forward and seized Rickard before suspending him from the rafters and seized Torrhen, makinh . On the floor Brandon Stark began to struggle. "You whoreson! Your son stole my sister! What about justice for him? Give him a sword to defend himself with!"

Aerys glared at the heir to the north. "You want a sword grab one." He nodded at his guards who bound a strange leather device around his neck

"Ser Jamie" The King called and Jamie almost fainted. "Your sword!" He cried. Jamie nodded and drew his sword from its sheath before ascending to pass it to the king. The king nodded and threw it just out of reach of Brandon Stark. "Grab the sword and you can free your father. Else he dies."

With that he nodded to his pyromancer who stepped forward with a jar of wildfire in his hands. Brandon stood there watching, clearly unaware of what was about to happen.

Jamie watched him though and he glanced up at the roof where two white ravens were perched. Jamie frowned. He had never seen white ravens before except the ones the citadel used to announce the coming of winter.

As he watched the two ravens flew down from their perch on high and attacked the pyromancer. He stumbled back as the birds attacked his eyes and hands. The pyromancer rushed away from the mad birds, and towards Ser Jonothor Darry, who drew his sword and hit one of the birds out of the air. The other flew out of reach and started cawing loudly. The pyromancer stepped forward once more and threw the jar at Rickard's pyre. It landed and began to eat the wood hungrily, the flames already beginning to lick Rickard Stark's armour.

At this Brandon Stark truly began to struggle. He rushed forward in a vain attempt to seize the sword, but the leather device only tightened around his neck. He growled and Jamie was distracted by the first of Rickard Stark's screams. It cut through the air like a knife through butter and Jamie quickly swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. It would do no good to show weakness now.

Brandon was now bent over as Rickards screams continued, Brandon's face purpling as he struggled agasint the choker around his neck and was becoming weak by the moment. As Jamie watched however, Torrhen struggled against the hold of the Kingsguard and begun fighting the Kingsguard, the large one had lunged at Torrhen only to be knocked down by him as Torrhen hitted him with a single blow to the face, the knight was stunned and eventually rather quickly died which shocked many including the king himself before Aerys had cackled and clapped his hands together.

Torrhen jumped up in bed with an unnatural start, his skin pale and covered in cold sweat, ragged breath leaving his parted lips as he tried to gather himself in the present, in the feeling ot the bedsheets and animal pelts that covered his body from the cold night air.

A strangled and choked gasp escaped him when he felt a pair of shaking strong hands shake his shoulders, which prompted him to slowly and cautiously look to the side, still unsure in he was in a nightmare or back in reality.

Thankfully, he was back in reality and the sight that greeted him was his son, Rodrick, standing there with an worried look, this wasn't the first time that Torrhen had those kind of nightmares, nor was it the first time that Rodrick had found him in this state, sometimes the young boy had even been the one to bring his father back to consciousness.

"Father..." Rodrick attempted, trying to see if his father's eyes was unfocused with nightmares or awake but alert, which thankfully it was the latter this time. "You're alright, you're safe." The boy of seven and ten years of age assured, squeezing his father's shoulder, watching as the older man ran a hair through his damp hair before he moved to the side of the bed.

Torrhen moved his son's hand away from his shoulder and slowly stood up from the bed and walked to the window, leaning against it, watching the commonfolk walk around and saw birds in the sky as he looked back to his son and nodded at him. "We will prepare to leave for Winterfell, shortly, get your things and be packed when i come down."

Rodrick nodded, a little hesitant to leave his father but complied and soon left to prepare their travels to Winterfell, it had been sometime since either of them seen the rest of their family. Torrhen gave one last look to outside before slowly begun to get dressed and prepared for the cold, several scars were on his body and he was used to them now but they all held a memory, memories that he wished he had long forgotten.

Torrhen stretched and rubbed the back of his neck, before getting ready for the long journey ahead of him and Rodrick, he never desired for Rodrick to be without a mother but the gods are far crueler then they have ever been and he recalled when he knew that his wife had ended her life after the rebellion. Some believed she died from a broken heart but others believe it was the cause of losing her stillborn daughter.

But Torrhen knew why she ended her life, it was the death of her brother that caused her to become depressed and suicidal and he wished he could've saved her when he had the chance.