Chapter Text
The images solidified in Jaime’s mind as he made his way through the streets.
Charred skeletons. Screaming children. Rampaging soldiers. Blood. Smoke. Mangled limbs. Chaos. He couldn’t keep any of it straight.
His attention strayed to a singular feral roar that echoed above him.
He looked up to the massive black beast soaring through the air, the would-be conqueror clinging to his back as she flew away from them. He watched as the dragon spit out more flames of orange in the distance, the cries of those that that she hadn’t quite incinerated ringing through the air.
Jaime didn’t know what was worse: seeing his home erupt in flames of wildfire or be burned alive by the dragon queen’s rage. He had ruined his own name to avoid seeing this happen decades ago, only to see the same fate befall it after his former lover had threatened to rain her own form on destruction on the city.
What had been the point of it all?
He remembered what Jon had confessed to him the night before he left for Kings Landing.
I don’t know what Daenerys is becoming.
Whatever grip of insanity that had start to possess Cersei months ago had now spread like an infection. Jaime didn’t envy the task set before Jon: he was sworn to Daenerys’s side as her consort, the announcement of their betrothal being one of the forces that had set this vicious cycle in motion. Had it been the threat of another couple linked by blood that had convinced Cersei to begin plotting to murder her own subjects by wildfire? Or was it his defection, his relationship with Brienne, the death of their youngest ill-conceived child? He had been able to walk away, but not before nearly costing Brienne’s life in the process. He didn’t doubt that Daenerys would be equally ruthless.
Lose and you will answer to me.
Did it matter? Probably not. He didn’t expect he would survive to find out.
Cersei still had the wildfire. He was the only one who could stop her from destroying what was left of the city with her own source of fervid revenge
Once a kingslayer, always a kingslayer.
The weight of the dagger on Jaime’s waist somehow felt lighter as he approached the ruins of the throne room.