Disclaimer: This story is told from the perspectives of Jaime Lannister and Daenerys Targaryen. No infringement is intended; all rights belong to the brilliant George R.R. Martin, David Benioff and D.B. Weiss. However, please note that there will be certain scenes taken from episodes of the series and rewritten to accommodate my story as needed. Additionally, all photos used of Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, Emilia Clarke and anything else GoT related belong to those parties and those parties alone.


Truth


"Well, this certainly is a mess you've gotten yourself into, dear brother. Tell me, was it not so recently that our roles were reversed?" Raising a stubby finger, Tyrion Lannister gestured towards himself as he took a step closer to the outside of Jaime's cell. "Of course, I'd been in your place, rotting away in the dungeons under the Red Keep at our sweet sister's command . . . whereas now you're here, wasting away in the Mad King's daughter's dungeons. Funny, how circumstances seem to change so quickly."

Looking up from his place strewn about the filthy dungeon floor, Jaime Lannister grinned in spite of his younger brother's arrival. After Queen Daenerys's men had discovered him in Meereen he'd been beaten, captured and taken straight to the dungeons where he'd spent the past several days awaiting whatever punishment the Mother of Dragons decided to bestow upon him next. He couldn't be more down on his luck, spending every moment awaiting his impending death, and yet even now — after all he'd been through — his little brother still possessed the gift of rousing a smile out of him.

Jaime had left King's Landing behind several months ago in his attempt to find Tyrion. Of late, Cersei had become bitter, cold and distant, even more so than what he was familiar with. Day in and day out, enduring rejection after constant rejection, Jaime had finally made the decision that if he couldn't have the love of the sibling he desired, he would do everything in his power to be with the sibling he knew truly loved him. Varys's little spiders had passed messages to Jaime along the way to help aide him during his passage, and after a great many weeks of seemingly endless travel he had arrived in Meereen where it was rumored that his younger brother had sought out Daenerys Targaryen to support her and her claim to the Iron Throne.

"Yes, and quite an exit you made, little brother." Jaime began slowly, his voice hoarse from not having spoken a word in nearly a week. "Truthfully, I feel like I too should have gotten some of the credit for our father's death. After all, wasn't I the one who taught you how to properly locate the heart during all those trainings in the tiltyard when we were children?"

"Indeed," Tyrion agreed, raising his small, childlike hands. "A bit rusty, I'm afraid. It took me two shots. Alas, it did not seem to matter . . . the end result took full effect all the same."

The two Lannister brothers shared a brief, sad smile before both men lowered their gazes to the ground.

Tywin Lannister had been a ruthless man and even more so, a ruthless father. Unlike Cersei, Jaime had not shed a single tear for their father, nor his untimely death. Tywin was a great leader, not even his children could deny that, but a horrible parent. His death would be a harsh blow to Tommen's reign over the Seven Kingdoms. Jaime knew better than anyone that Tommen was not the true heir, no matter his surname, and he'd grown tired of supporting kings who had no business sitting on the Iron Throne. The boy was kind, yes, and much less of a threat to the realm than Joffrey had been, but kindness didn't win wars. Now that Tywin was gone, Tommen wouldn't stand a chance.

"How did you know it was me?" Tyrion asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

"Our father was shot in his privy exactly ten minutes after I released you from your cell. I may not be quite as brilliant as you are, Tyrion, but it wasn't that difficult to figure out."

"And you're not angry with me?" Tyrion questioned, narrowing his eyes as he stared at his older brother in disbelief.

For a long moment, Jaime said nothing. He'd seen how the death of their father had torn Cersei apart and yet here he was, fully intact . . . more or less.

"I would've done the same thing, had he condemned me to the same fate he'd lined up for you."

"Ah, but he would have never done such a thing! You're the golden child, remember?"

Jaime smiled bitterly but said nothing in return. His silence spoke volumes.

"Why are you here, Jaime? It can't be the thousand gold dragons Cersei is no doubt offering for my capture."

"Three thousand."

"Pardon me?"

"Our sister has tripled the price for your head since you added our father to your body count, as well as offered a lordship to whomever captures you — highborn or low."

"Have you become so desperate to rid yourself of your position of Captain of the Kingsguard that you would go to such lengths?"

Tyrion eyed his older brother closely. There was something broken in Jaime, no matter how hard he saw him trying to deny it. He could smell it on his brother just as distinctly as the mud and shit he'd been stewing in for the past several days. Had Cersei finally pushed him to his limit?

"What has Cersei done to you now?"

A loaded question, Jaime thought with a sour grin. What hadn't his sister done to him in all their years together?

"As of late, she taunted me over my choice to join the Kingsguard, made her comments on how father never wanted that for me; how I'd shamed him as well as the Lannister name. She had the bloody nerve to do so, even when she knew . . . "

"Knew what?" Tyrion asked.

"That I had done it all for her. To be with her." Leaning his head against the stone wall, Jaime cursed, his anger rising to the surface with each word. "I tried to convince her not to let the people of King's Landing pull us apart, but she kept insisting that it was you who had done the damage."

The dungeons grew silent as both brothers took in Jaime's words.

"Did I ever tell you how Cersei used to torment you, long before you were old enough to even realize it?" Capturing a handful of hay between his fingers, Jaime continued. "She treated you like a bloody circus act; inviting the neighborhood children into your nursery to see you — 'The Demon Child who killed our dear, sweet mother'."

Feeling a muscle in his jaw twitch, Tyrion looked away. He'd heard this tale from Oberyn Martell when the Red Viper had come to visit him in the Black Cells after Joffrey's assassination. "I've already heard this story."

"But what you may not have heard is that I let her. Even then, I was terrified of our sister's wrath, and even more . . . of her rejection." Tossing the hay aside, he swallowed down the lump that had been forming in his throat. Even now, thinking of the way he'd allowed Cersei to treat their little brother had a way of reducing him to tears. "So day in and day out, I accompanied Cersei as she escorted more children into the nursery to poke fun at you, and each night I cried myself to sleep for what I had done."

Staring at Jaime in awe, Tyrion found himself completely at a loss for words; a very rare trait for the dwarf. But if anything could do it, it would be the sight of his older brother in his current state.

"Why are you here, Jaime?" He asked again, a desperate ache sounding at the back of his throat. "You're a fool to have come, no matter the reason. The Targaryen girl will show you no mercy."

"I've always enjoyed a violent woman."

Tyrion frowned at him. The Lannister brothers had always been known for their sharp tongue, and he had often enjoyed partaking in various scraps with his older brother, but this was not one of those times.

"Perhaps mercy is not what I'm after," Jaime offered.

"What then? Finally seeking forgiveness for your crimes?"

Chuckling, Jaime shook his head. "I think we both know that my crimes are past forgiveness."

"What then?!" Tyrion exclaimed, growing impatient of this game.

For so long Tyrion had cherished his time spent with Jaime; the only member of the entire Lannister clan who treated him like a person rather than a monster. Despite now supporting Daenerys Targaryen's claim to the Iron Throne, he did not want the Dragon Queen's first act of revenge to be the execution of his older brother.

"I missed you," Jaime admitted, his voice cracking. "I've done so much . . . utter shit in my life, I thought it was finally time to do something good. Something to be remembered for . . . for the right reasons."

"Jaime, you must get control over yourself. Your chances of surviving this are already dire, but perhaps if you plead for forgiveness — perhaps Daenerys will let you live out the rest of your days at the Wall."

"I have no desire to return to the North and spend the rest of my years freezing my arse off, surrounded by a bloody cock fest."

"Do you think so little of your life now?"

"I've never been afraid to die."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Glancing down at the stump where his sword hand had once been, Jaime ran his fingers over it. One of the first things that Queen Daenerys's men had done upon capturing him was taken the golden hand that Cersei had Qyburn make for him back in King's Landing. Truthfully, Jaime almost preferred being without it. It felt like a lie, and after living a life full of them he was growing tired of the deception.

From the moment Jaime had sliced the Mad King's throat open he knew this would be his fate. Of course he'd imagined to be at the mercy of Viserys rather than his younger sister, but truthfully, it meant no difference. One way or another the gods had seen fit to make him suffer for his crimes. Years had passed in between the sentence whilst Daenerys grew into the woman that she was today and learned of the man who had murdered her father. Soon she would finally receive the justice she had no doubt craved for her family all these years. Jaime couldn't blame her for these desires, but he had to wonder if this would be the catalyst to starting her on her way down the same doomed path as her father.

"Why did you decide to follow her, Tyrion? What makes you think that this Targaryen will be any better than the last?" Jaime finally asked, answering a question with yet another question.

"Because she has to be." Tyrion responded simply.


For years Daenerys Targaryen had wondered what she would do if she ever came in contact with the man that had murdered her father. Jaime Lannister. He'd been barely more than a boy at the time, a young man of seven-and-ten — only two years younger than Dany was now — yet he'd still been capable of killing a king. How many men and women had Dany had put to their deaths since beginning her reign? Her brother Viserys made the first; Mirri Maz Durr the second; and Xaro Xhoan Daxos and Doreah the third and fourth. Though only the second had been done by her own hand, she'd given the orders that took all the rest of their lives. Since then, countless more had been added to that list; people whose names she would never know. There was blood on her hands too, as well as her heart. Were they really so different, she and the Kingslayer?

"Your Grace," Missandei spoke softly, stirring Dany from her thoughts of fire and blood. "It is time."

Wringing her hands, Daenerys took a deep breath in order to calm herself, but still her fingers shook. Although she had felt many emotions when imagining her father's killer, she'd never thought that fear would become one of them.

Dany rose and made her way to the throne room. Upon entering, she met Daario Naharis's piercing gaze as he stood behind Jaime Lannister. On his knees, the Kingslayer hung his head. The blood from the wounds her men had given him had soaked through the chest of his tunic, leaving a dried brown crust of remembrance. His golden hair hung down his face, reaching just to his cheek bones; scruff covered the edge of his jaw from weeks spent without a proper shave. But beneath the blood, hair and dirt, Dany could see that the man before her was beautiful. He was still the man all the ballads had been written for; the most dangerous and most handsome man in all of Westeros. Hair as blonde as wheat, eyes as green as emeralds . . . yet all Dany could see was the man who had stolen her childhood.

"Jaime Lannister, you have the honor of Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Anadals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, Queen of Meereen and the Mother of Dragons."

Quite the mouthful, Jaime thought, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from speaking these words aloud.

Slowly raising his head, the Kingslayer caught a glimpse of the Dragon Queen from the light of the candles that burnt amongst the marble pillars. She was just as beautiful as the rumors stated — a woman to start wars for. Where Aerys's features had been hard, Daenerys's were soft, yet they still had the same eyes — a fierce, supernatural violet hue, and the same silver-gold hair that the Targaryens were known for. There was no denying it, this was no impostor, Daenerys was a Targaryen through and through . . . but Jaime began to wonder for the second time that day; did the same madness her father possessed run in her veins as well?

"You may approach."

Shaking off the guards at his sides, Jaime staggered forward on weak, cramped legs. After spending so much time trapped in the dungeons he'd been forced to curl his long limbs up into a variety of uncomfortable positions that he was now paying dearly for. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed Tyrion looking away, clearly embarrassed for his brother. The words his younger brother had shared with him earlier that day still rung in his ears all too clearly: "Funny, how circumstances seem to change so quickly." Jaime had spent his entire life pitying his baby brother, watching as he waddled throughout the castle on stunted legs. Now it seemed it was his turn to be pitied.

"Your Grace," Jaime began slowly. "My travels were long, I thank you for treating me with such kind hospitality."

Remaining by Queen Daenerys's side, Tyrion winced at his brother's insolence as the halls of the throne room grew still and quiet.

"Why is it you've come here?" Daenerys questioned, ignoring the brazen Kingslayer's slight.

"I mean to travel."

"This is not a game, Ser. I demand to know the truth."

The truth, Jaime mused. Well, there's a first time for everything.

"As you wish, my lady."

"She is not your lady," Ser Barristan Selmy broke in suddenly, a steely gaze in his blue eyes. "She is your Queen."

Catching Barristan Selmy's eye, Jaime smirked. The last he'd heard of the old knight he had been sent away on Joffrey's command so that Jaime could take his place as Captain of the Kingsguard. For that reason, he knew the man's hatred towards him was more personal than anything else. Barristan the Bold. Even way back when, Selmy had never approved of Jaime's presence in his precious Kingsguard. Before Robert's Rebellion, the old knight thought Jaime too young and inexperienced; afterward, he had often been heard to say that the Kingslayer should exchange his white cloak for a black one.

"Silence." Dany chided softly. After a brief exchange with Ser Barristan she brought her attention back to Jaime. "Do you deny killing my father, Ser?"

"No."

"Do you regret killing my father, Ser?"

"No."

"You swore an oath to protect him, yet you betrayed him by breaking that solemn vow."

"I swore a great many oaths the day I took the White. Protecting your father was merely one of them."

"And you felt there was one oath of more importance?" She demanded, her voice breaking slightly as the suggestion had her anger mounting dangerously.

"Protecting the innocent." He replied swiftly.

Daenerys shot Jaime a measured look, unsure of just what to make of his words. She'd heard tales of her father's madness near the end of his reign but had never known the truth of what went on during that time. Her counselors had tip-toed around the subject here and there, but deep down Dany knew there was much they had left unsaid; much they were still too scared to admit.

"After all," Jaime shrugged his filthy shoulders. "They didn't call him the Mad King for nothing—"

Before another word could be said, strong arms swung through the air as Daario delivered a heavy backhand to the side of Jaime's face, causing the Kingslayer to fall to his knees once more. Both chuckling and coughing from the impact of the blow, Jaime spit out a mouthful of blood onto the marble floor, his teeth stained red as he looked to Daenerys once more, a cocky grin gracing his features.

"Was it something I said?"

With a brief shake of her head, Dany discouraged Daario from continuing with violence. Although she could not find much sympathy within her to offer the Kingslayer, it had never been her idea of justice to beat a man while he was down.

"Tommen, the one they call 'the Boy King;' the one who currently sits the Iron Throne. Is he the true heir of Robert Baratheon, or your bastard son?"

Jaime eyed Daenerys closely. Well, she certainly wasn't wasting any time. In fact, her words reminded him of an encounter that had taken place nearly a year ago while he'd been held prisoner in the Stark's camp. Catelyn Stark had approached him the night she'd learned of her husband's death; a death which Joffrey had ordered to be seen through. He could recall how exhausted she looked; how destroyed, and yet the poor woman had only two questions for him: Why? Why had Jaime seen fit to push her son Bran out the window? How? How could he have done such a thing?

Of course, the reason was Cersei. One way or another, his reasons always led back to Cersei. He would do anything to protect her and anything to protect their secret. He couldn't tell Lady Stark the truth that night, but times had since changed. His secrets were no longer his secrets; no longer of value, at least not to him. He knew what he said next would condemn both Cersei and himself to their deaths, yet he also knew that both he and his sister's fates had long since been sealed. Joffrey was dead, Myrcella was just as good as dead, and Tommen . . . Tommen could never rule. Perhaps it was best to put an end to his family's so-called legacy once and for all.

Legacy. The thought nearly made him choke with laughter. To think what had happened to Tywin Lannister's legacy; a legacy that his children had successfully shat all over.

"Tommen is my son, Joffrey was as well. Myrcella is my daughter. They are all of mine and Cersei's kin."

See you in Seven Hells, sweet sister.

The throne room grew silent once more. Rumors of the Lannisters' incest, infidelity and false claim to the Iron Throne had been running rampant throughout the Seven Kingdoms for years, but had never been confirmed — until now. Everything had changed with just a few short words from the Kingslayer.

"And how is it that you can so easily betray your sister — your lover — by providing me with this information?"

"I am merely speaking the truth; a truth that you and many others came to realize quite some time ago."

"So you admit to siring these illegitimate heirs in defiance of all the laws of gods and men?"

Jaime hesitated, a clever retort dancing on his tongue. Had the Targaryens not wed brothers and sisters for centuries past? Had it not been rumored that Visereys would have taken his sister as a wife had it not been for his last minute decision to wed her to Khal Drogo in his failed attempt to gain an army? Jaime knew that one of the many things a knight of the Kingsguard must learn to master was the guarding of his tongue. Among all the skills he had mastered however, that had never been one of them. Until now, it seemed.

"I do."

"Do you think you will be rewarded for your truth — pardoned for your countless other crimes?"

"If it please Your Grace."

"What more can you offer me?"

And there it was. His bargaining chip. Although no one would ever believe him after being labeled the Kingslayer, there had been a time when Jaime had been closer to Aerys than his own father. Loyalty meant everything to him and despite what everyone liked to think, Jaime had remained loyal to the Mad King throughout the majority of his service. He had warned Aerys of Tywin's plans; warned him not to trust his father. His position in the Kingsguard had all begun as a way to be closer to Cersei, but Jaime had also taken his duty seriously. He even enjoyed the company of the Mad King's son, Rhaegar Targaryen — even thought of him as an older brother at times. More than that, Jaime had depended on Rhaegar; believed in him when he said he would see to it that things would change when he returned from the Trident . . . but Rhaegar had never returned, which left Jaime to do the only thing left to be done. Kill King Aerys before he slaughtered thousands of men, women and children.

"I spent years by your father's side and lived to tell the tale. I can educate you on how he ruled. I can help make you better."

"How dare you even think to suggest—" Daario began harshly, but was quickly cut off by his queen.

Raising a small, delicate hand, Daenerys silenced the leader of the Second Sons with a deadly look in her lilac orbs. Jaime watched as a heated exchange passed between the Dragon Queen and the member of her Queensguard. There was anger there, disagreement certainly, but there was also a look of lust that could not be mistaken.

Interesting, Jaime mused.

"Ser Barristen Selmy stands on my council. He was Head of my father's Kingsguard for many years. What makes you think you could offer me anything more than he could?"

"Because while Selmy was out fighting your father's war for him, I was the one Aerys kept close. I was the one who saw . . . who heard . . . everything."

Jaime could recall the years he'd spent on her father's Kingsguard as if they had merely taken place a fortnight ago. The horrors he'd witnessed, standing outside King Aerys's bed chambers as he raped his wife Rhaella over and over again. Those were horrors he would never forget; shameful memories he would keep with him until the day he died. The only way Jaime had been able to live through it was to go into himself. He'd disappear, attempting to ignore his reality in order to go on with his day to day; serving the king. It was one of his largest regrets, and yet another reason why he felt he owed Daenerys everything.

Her advisors were quick to offer their counsel.

"Your Grace, surely you can't be entertaining the idea of allowing the Kingslayer to walk away from such a wicked offense," Ser Barristan muttered in her ear.

"His death would be the perfect example to show the people of Meereen what the Mother of Dragons does to those who betray her," Daario declared loudly as he mounted the steps to stand beside his queen.

Dany felt an intense wave of heat and pressure building up behind her eyes as she contemplated each man's advice. Jaime Lannister was her father's murderer, but that did not make his words any less true. He was the only living person who was like to know whom her father had truly been, and what had caused his descent into madness. This made her have a connection to the Kingslayer, whether she wanted one or not.

"And why would you willingly do that? How do you profit?"

An honest question; a just question. Jaime had been considering it himself for weeks now, since he'd first decided to seek out the young queen. Perhaps it was because of the guilt he felt for having a hand at starting the War of the Five Kings. Perhaps it was an attempt at penance for throwing Brandon Stark out of that window in Winterfell. Or perhaps it was because despite the thousands of lives he'd saved from Aerys's madness and fire, he still felt guilt over stabbing the man in the back the night that Robert's Rebellion came to an end.

"I will have peace of mind."

Six of the most unlikely words that Daenerys had ever expected to hear from her enemy's lips. Truly at a loss to find her own, Dany looked to Tyrion for guidance but found that her new advisor was just as much at a loss for words as she was. She did not, however, miss the desperate look in his eyes as he pleaded with her not to be rash; to not to kill his brother. Since Tyrion had joined her council, Dany had found a great many things to admire the man for, but holding his tongue in her presence while his own brother's life swayed in the balance had to top them all.

Her decision was made.

"Ser Barristan, please escort Ser Jaime back to his cell. See that he has fresh food and water."


A/N: Jaime and Daenerys are two of my favorite characters, and they have a story that I've always hoped would be explored further. Stated simply, I can no longer wait for GRRM or the writers at HBO to make this happen, so I'm doing it myself. As you can see I am following along with HBO's storyline more than with ASOIAF at the moment, but that is not to say that there won't be more events from the books cropping up in the future. I love both series tremendously, and I also enjoy writing what appears to me in my own little world. Needless to say, there will be a mixture from here on out. As always, please read and review! I'd love feedback on what you all think of these two.