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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is that Tywin's blood?" Aerys demanded of Jaime, waving a hand at the bloody sword. Jaime said nothing, and the King grew visibly angrier, even more agitated, spittle flying from behind his long, matted beard. "I told you, boy, bring me your father's head! Treachery, betrayal, I won't have it. I will not! I am the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, the blood of the dragon, and unless that is the blood of Tywin Lannister, you'll burn with the rest of them!"

Jaime's eyes glinted.

"Stand aside, Ross," Was all he said.

A smile broke through her mask, as she realised what he meant to do. "I want to see," She replied, turning her son in her arms so he faced her chest.

Something in her tone or her look must've made Aerys uneasy, because his eyes darted back to Jaime.

"Whose blood is that?" He said now, in a dangerous, raspy whisper, voice rising in volume as he spoke. "Whose, whose, whose, whose - "

"Rosshart's," Jaime cut off his ravings, the word echoing throughout the cavernous room. Rosshart was there when Father died. Ross had been sure to find out the name of the man who had built and lit the pyre under Rickard Stark, commit it to memory. For what? Justice? Revenge? Whatever you called it, the outcome was the same.

A second of silence, as Aerys stared at him blankly. Then the King's eyes bulged as the realisation hit. Jaime started forward, and Aerys screamed, anger, hatred, madness and fear all in one terrible sound. He fled, still squealing, for the safety of the throne, as though the ugly mass of swords would protect him. He'd pissed himself in terror, Ross noted absently, in mild disgust.

He barely made it to the third step. She watched in grim satisfaction as Jaime hauled the last dragonking off the Iron Throne, as he screamed obscenities, threats, mad jibberings, promises to burn them all... And then it was ended, with a single slash across the throat.

Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, collapsed in an undignified heap before his former throne, throat opened from ear to ear, a pool of red fast spreading out underneath him, soiling the royal silks and satins. Ross and Jaime watched him cough and splutter, pitifully gasping as his lifeblood leeched out of him, and then he was dead.

Jaime looked up at her, green eyes wide, all of that steely determination gone. For the first time in years, he looked like the boy he had been on the road from Harrenhal, aside from the fact he was covered in the King's blood. For her part, Ross could not fully comprehend that it was finally over. That the monster who haunted her waking and sleeping moments was no more.

"Ross,"

She laughed, a hoarse, choking sound, but a laugh nonetheless. "His last words," She said. "What did they mean? Burn them all?"

Jaime's face darkened. "The pyromancers have been hiding wildfire everywhere for months. Aerys would have sent Rosshart the command to blow the city sky-high. I killed Rosshart, and came back to finish the job,"

Ross' eyes widened. Not even in her worst nightmares had the King displayed that level of complete and utter insanity. "He thought he would become a dragon," She said faintly, and it made her furious, that the one who managed to cause her so much pain and suffering was so pitiful and moronic.

Neither of them had time to say another word before the throne room doors burst open. Dozens of armed Lannister men burst in, and immediately froze at the sight before them. They'd probably had orders to take Aerys captive, wait for Tywin Lannister, Ned, Robert to finish him off. They clearly hadn't expected to find their lord's eldest son stood over the body, quite literally red-handed, sword and armour covered in blood, beside a young woman and a baby.

There was no denying anything now.

A second or two passed. Some of the westermen were looking at Jaime with accusing looks as they took in the scene, judging the man who broke his vows and killed his King. But most were simply gaping in pure undisguised shock.

A big, burly man with a boar on his shield, a lord - Crakehall, Jaime had told her about him, the man he squired for since he was twelve - made the first move, stepping forward, fixing his steely gaze on Jaime. He, of all of them, didn't seem at all surprised.

"The city is ours, my lord," He said, nodding in slight deference.

"The King is dead," Jaime said needlessly, but his tone had changed. It was sharper, closer to a commander's voice than a laughing boy of eighteen, and his back had straightened the moment his father's men entered the room. At least a lifetime of been taught by Tywin Lannister hadn't been entirely for nothing, no matter what he pretended. "Spare all those in the castle who yield,"

Of course, Targaryen loyalists would still be fighting all over the keep. Ned and his men would be racing down the Kingsroad as they spoke, seeing the smoke pluming above the city from the sack. Crakehall nodded, glancing back at his men, who didn't need to hear their orders twice and left to see them carried out.

"The King is dead," The man acknowledged. "Shall I proclaim a new one?" His meaning was clear.

Ross hadn't thought that far, everything had ended in Aerys' death, but of course, the rest of the world moved forward. She glanced back at Jaime. If he acted in Tywin Lannister's best interests and proclaimed baby Aegon or young Viserys as King of the Seven Kingdoms, with his father as Hand... But after a tense few seconds, he laughed harshly.

"Proclaim who you bloody well like,"

She let a small smile flit across her face, as he turned away from the remaining westermen in clear dismissal, and climbed the Iron Throne. They all filed out, Crakehall giving one last, unreadable look at Jaime, who was now seated, sword lain across his knees. For want of anything else, Ross seated herself on the lower steps, enjoying the sight of Aerys' still bleeding body in an undignified heap.

She looked up at Jaime.

"Thank you," Was all she said.

He laughed, still a little bitter but it was more genuine than before. "It wasn't just for you, you know,"

She smiled. "Of course not. But you did it all the same," Then added. "Even if it was rather quick. Easy,"

"A King should die harder than that," He agreed.

Ren squirmed in her lap.

"Consider yourself fortunate," She told her son. "You were one of three people to see the last Targaryen King die, even if you won't remember it,"

It still felt surreal, that Aerys was dead. Ross was pleased, certainly, but in a distant kind of way. The enormity of everything else was now hitting her. As hellish as life in the Red Keep had been for her, it was at least self-contained. It made it easier to bear, that no one outside knew what had become of her. She barely let herself think of her family, for it was less painful that way. Whereas before she had focused only on surviving each day, now she was faced with how the world would react to her and her son, and what the future would hold. And how she would live in a world without Brandon and Father.

When the doors opened again, all else was forgotten. A man she hadn't seen in over two years strode in, at the head of a group of Northern soldiers all in mail, leathers and furs. He looked older, harder, even more solemn and grim-faced than before, but he was still her brother, still the boy she had grown up with.

"Ned," The name was barely a whisper on her lips, but her heart sang at the sound of it.

It had been far too long since she had been this close to anyone from her family. The last time had been Father and Brandon's deaths, and she hadn't seen Ned, Ben or Lya since Harrenhal, over two years ago.

Her eyes met his, joy at being reunited, at seeing the other unharmed, his anger at seeing Ren in her arms, but now wasn't the time. Her brother had already seen the dead King on the floor, had already seen Jaime Lannister sitting in the throne above them. He was already casting a heavy judgement.

Jaime proclaimed loudly that the throne was an uncomfortable seat, giving it up to Lord Stark. He climbed down, catching her eye for a split second. Her brother followed his look as his men dispersed themselves, the throne room no longer silent as they started talking amongst themselves, and Eddard Stark ascended the steps to claim the Iron Throne for Robert. They would talk later, she knew. Not here. Not now.

Ross slipped out of the throne room, and returned to her chambers. With all the Northmen here, the godswood would no longer be the solace of solitude it had been previously.

Her rooms were where Ned found her later, as darkness fell over the city. Robert Baratheon, having arrived with much loud fanfare and cheers from his army, now reigned over the Seven Kingdoms, and Aerys Targaryen was dead. She should be delighted, celebrating with the rest of the northern army, but all she wanted to do was go home.

When she saw Ned there in the doorway, several hours later, she got up from the bed and walked swiftly forward him, he toward her, and was soon locked in a crushing embrace. Ross rested her head on her brother's chest - he'd grown, even since she last saw him - as he held her tight, neither willing to let go. Ned smelled like blood and sweat, but also of home, of happier times, and she found herself blinking back uncharacteristic tears as a rush of emotion overwhelmed her.

"Are you alright?" He looked down at her with sharp grey eyes. "Gods, tell me you're alright,"

"I'm fine," She said, and for the first time in months and months, she almost was. "And you're fine too. Lord Eddard,"

"I hate people calling me that," He frowned. "It should be Brandon. It should be Father,"

"But it's you," She said. "For better or worse, it's you,"

He sighed. "I know that. It's just... hard to get used to,"

"You seem to have managed well enough," She said. "The lords would've followed any man south after the insult done to House Stark, but you actually led them through a successful rebellion. You've proven you're capable and competent. You've earned their respect,"

He said nothing to that.

They were interrupted by Ren waking up early from where she'd put him down to sleep in his crib. He was getting too big for that crib now; good thing they were leaving soon.

"Is that - ?" He broke off as she stood to take the boy in her arms.

"My son," She said, glancing up at him. "Not the late King's, no matter what he told you,"

Ned's face visibly relaxed. Probably at the thought of not having to talk Robert and Tywin Lannister out of killing his nephew as a potential claimant to the throne. The obvious question was who the boy's real father was, but he didn't ask that of her. Not yet, anyway.

"So he didn't..." Ned looked at her as she shushed Ren back to sleep against her shoulder.

Her lips set in a straight line; she knew what kind of things Aerys dictated to be in that letter. Most of it was true. If it had been up to her, no one would ever have known.

"He believed the boy to be his son,"

Her brother's eyes darkened. "I'd hoped..." He trailed off, but Ross understood. He'd hoped all those taunts were just empty words, that the King wouldn't lay a hand on the daughter of a great house. "But I hadn't truly expected he'd spare you anything, not after Father and Brandon," He looked out the window. "I spent half the afternoon trying to persuade Robert to send the Lannister boy to the Wall," He said eventually. "But though he's an oathbreaker, a Kingslayer, what that madman did to you... to Father, to Brandon - I can't help but..." He trailed off.

Ned was questioning the concept of honour. She never thought she'd see the day. I suppose war changes everyone. Another silence, as she sat down on the bed, Ren in her lap, now asleep again.

"Aerys asked him to kill his father," Ross wasn't sure why she said that. "During the sack of the city. Said 'bring me Tywin's head, or burn with the rest of them. What would you have done?" She already knew, as did he, evident from his lack of response.

Instead, he changed the subject, sitting down beside her.

"Who is Jaime Lannister to you?"

She gave him a hard look. "The reason I never threw myself off the castle walls. He didn't know what he was getting into, being Aerys' guard. The way he treated the Queen, the way he burned innocent people... Jaime hated just being expected to watch. And today, he snapped. I can't say I blame him,"

Ned shook his head, grimacing.

"I'm so sorry, Ross,"

"Don't be. You fought a war to get here. What more could you do?" He didn't say anything to that, but she could see he was clearly unhappy, despite wearing his usual expression that would've just looked cold to anyone else. "Here," She held out her now-sleeping son to him. "His name is Renan, but I call him Ren. You'd best get some practice,"

He smiled faintly at that, carefully taking her son from her as directed. "My son's name is Robb. Lady Catelyn says he's strong and healthy,"

"Perhaps they'll get to know each other at Winterfell," She said idly, reaching over to adjust his hands a fraction, and Ren settled into his arms.

"Ross?" She looked up at Ned. "Who's his fa - "

"Don't," She said, tone immovable. "Not now,"

"A touching picture," A voice said from the door. She jerked her head up, and he was there, out of his armour but still with his sword at his hip. He'd be foolish not to carry it, the amount of people in the castle who would see him dead. "Sorry," Jaime said, pointedly to Ross. "I thought you'd be alone," Both Ross and Ned raised an eyebrow at that. Gods, where are you going with this. "Your mind immediately goes to the gutter, Stark?" Jaime gave Ned a mildly incredulous look. "I might have broken one oath, but that doesn't mean I break the others. I'm not a lustful womaniser like your good friend Robert - apologies - his Grace, the King,"

She wanted to laugh, and hit him at the same time. He was a good liar when he wanted to be, and just as good at riling people. Ned clearly wanted to hit him.

"Have more faith in me, Ned," She said, not having to fake the slight irateness of her tone that her brother would even suggest that she would jump into bed with a handsome knight, given what they'd just discussed. Regardless of the fact that that was exactly what she'd been doing.

He looked a little abashed at that, and sent an apologetic look her way.

"It's not you I don't trust," He said.

Jaime laughed at that, in a way designed to infuriate anyone on the receiving end. "Is that why you wanted me at the Wall so badly?" He didn't wait for a reply. "It is possible, Stark, for me to simply wish to speak with Lady Rosennis," He hadn't called her that in so long, it sounded strange to her ears. "After all, it's not every day two people, ah, witness the murder of a King," He glanced at Ren. "Well, three people, but the baby can hardly discuss the matter,"

Ned looked far from convinced, but was unwilling to risk Ross' ire. She doubted he honestly believed she'd do anything she shouldn't. That had always been Lyanna's role, or Brandon's. Ross and Ned had generally done as they were expected to, though she doubted anyone could've expected either of them to end up here.

Her brother got to his feet, handing Ren back to her.

"Best not drop him, Stark," Jaime said mildly. Ned raised an eyebrow. "I've spent a lot of time around that little whelp whilst the King was... occupied," He sent a glance in Ross' direction, which they all caught, then continued, a sharper edge to his tone. "It's rather difficult not to become attached to an infant you've spent hours trying to keep quiet, so Aerys doesn't come out and... cause trouble,"

It was true, even Aerys had been put off by Ren's wailing whenever he came to her chambers, and usually had his crib temporarily moved out into the corridor, where the Kingsguard stood by the door. Ross hadn't known about what Jaime had just revealed, however, having merely assuming her son stopped crying when he was away from the king, and blinked in surprise.

"Why would you - " She broke off, voice catching in her throat. Why would you say that, now? To prove a point?

He doesn't know Ned, she remembered. She had talked about him a little, but not in any sort of detail. For all he knew, her brother was the type to put the blame on her for the King's actions, as many would, though she was about as far from promiscuous in appearance as could be; barely even approachable, in fact.

"Ross?" Ned started towards her in concern, as did Jaime - they both sent dirty looks at each other, perhaps for the use of her nickname - but she shook her head.

"It's fine," She insisted, quickly schooled her face back to normal. "Can I see you some time tomorrow, Ned, or will you be in meetings with Robert all day?"

Her brother's face hardened. "Robert and I won't be having any meetings for the foreseeable future," He said coldly. "Not after he saw the bodies of Prince Aegon and Princesses Rhaenys wrapped in red cloaks, and praised Tywin Lannister for the gift," There was practically ice coating that last word. Ah. "I confronted him after. He said he saw no children, only Dragonspawn,"

Ross' eyes widened a fraction. She hadn't even known they were dead, and didn't feel as much regret as she should. They were children, one part of her cried in protest. They were innocent. Aegon was barely older than Ren. The darker side of her whispered that they had the same diseased blood as Aerys, Rhaegar, and countless mad, dangerous Targaryens before them.

But if the children were dead, Elia likely was too. That would cause no end of trouble with Dorne. As if they hadn't had enough war as it was.

"What now?" She asked numbly.

"I'm leaving in three days, with the Northern army," He said, resolve set. "I'll break the siege at Storm's End. Then the army returns North,"

"And you?"

"I continue south to Dorne, with a small force, to find Lyanna,"

"I'm coming too," She said, without hesitation.

"What about your son? And Ross, you're injured - "

"I am not spending another day in this cursed place. My son will come too, he's not a fragile newborn. I am a more capable rider than you will ever be, Eddard Stark, and more than able to keep up with a group of men,"

Her tone shut down any argument Ned might have made.

"Fine," He said. "But if you show any sign of flagging, you will stay at Storm's End,"

She nodded. That was fair enough.

A pause.

"See you tomorrow," He said. "We leave at midday,"

"Tomorrow," She nodded.

He stared at her for a second or so, then turned and left, leaving her and Jaime alone with Ren.

Jaime said nothing, just watched her, so she turned away from him to put the baby back in the crib. As she straightened, she felt a pair of arms snake around her waist, warm and familiar. She let herself lean back against his chest, her head fitting under his chin, and felt more at peace than she had done in a long time. They had never had a time like this, without the shadow of the Mad King looming over them.

At that thought, she twisted her fingers in his long curls and brought his head down so their lips met. He responded in kind; not rushed, not frantic, but slower and somehow just as passionate. It was dark by now, most of the castle asleep. They could do what they liked, and they did.

As they lay together in her bed afterwards, she found herself unable to sleep. The thought had just struck her harder than it ever had before that as the war ended, so did this. She knew he didn't love her. He enjoyed her company, yes, or he wouldn't be here. He cared for their son, that she knew for sure, even if he didn't say it in as many words. He cared for her, too, but more of a close friend, if she had to guess. No, Jaime only loved one woman in the sense that mattered; his beautiful twin sister, who he would soon be able to see for the first time in years.

And Ross was to go north again. In truth, she couldn't wait; all she'd wanted since Harrenhal was to go home, to be safe behind the walls of Winterfell with her son, as far away from this wretched city as she could be. Far, far away. Her lips tightened. He couldn't come with her. Even the suggestion was utterly foolish. He wouldn't go even if it were feasible. And as far as she knew, she was still betrothed to Roose Bolton, if word of her treatment at Aerys' hands hadn't got out, which she doubted Ned would have allowed.

Jaime was a Kingsguard besides. Well, for now. There was always the possibility Robert would release him from service as punishment for killing Aerys, but that was unlikely, as most would see that as a reward, enabling him to inherit Casterly Rock. In which case, he most likely would be sent to the Wall. Closer to Winterfell, but just as unreachable.

Not to mention, the largest obstacle of all; that he didn't love her.

He left her chambers before dawn.

"I won't see you before you leave," He said with a wry smile. "So I suppose this is goodbye. If they do send me to rot at the Wall, perhaps you could pay a visit,"

"I'll be married, when I get home," She said, somewhat bleakly.

He raised an eyebrow. "So soon?"

"Two years later than everyone intended,"

Jaime's jaw set. "If he's like Aerys - "

"Then he won't make it a month past the wedding,"

He smiled. "I was going to say write to me and I'll kill him for you, but that works as well,"

His words were oddly touching, and it was an effort not to let herself read more into them than what was meant. "Thoughtful of you. Goodbye, Jaime,"

"Goodbye, Ross,"

*

Edited November 2024