So, I watched Episode 5 of Season 8 and I felt the need to write this. It's probably not very good but I don't care; this story is almost a coping mechanism for me. Maybe it will do that for you too, I don't know. All I know is that Jaime didn't deserve the end that he got.

I'll be updating this as often as possible, and I'm not sure how long it will be. My guess is maybe 6 chapters, but who knows? All the characters in here belong to George Martin, of course. Anyway, without further ado:

From the Ashes

Tyrion, from his position at the foot of the Red Keep, could hear the gleeful screaming of the Dothraki as they pillaged the houses that had not been reduced to cinders and ash in King's Landing. They would be done soon, by his reckoning; there were not many homes that had not been burnt. Not for the first time that day, a bitter taste flooded into his mouth from the depths of his guilty throat. It was the taste of the smoke from men, women, children burning. Innocents burning. Friends burning.

You were right, old friend. I should have listened when I had the chance. You were right and I betrayed you anyway.

There was precious little left of the Red Keep but a heap of rubble and some foundations, Tyrion noted as he trudged up the path to the place where Jaime and Cersei had left the Keep from. They had gotten out, after all; he was only here to make sure of it. At least, that was what he told himself. Some part of him, deep down in the dark crevices of his ugly, guilty head, he knew what he was about to find. That did not make it any less painful.

The corpse of Euron Crow's Eye was living up to its name. Though the rot had not yet set in, the crows and ravens had not felt the need to wait, it seemed. They were pecking at the pirate's face, squawking in delight and satisfaction at such a tasty meal. Euron's eyes were already pecked out.

Tyrion hardly noticed. A bloody dagger lay near Euron's hands, and a trail of blood led up the stairs to the Red Keep. Tyrion didn't notice that either, not yet.

His eyes were fixed firmly on the boat. The boat that should not have been there. A sinking sort of feeling was tearing its way through his chest, burning his guilty soul as it went until there was nothing left but ash and regret.

He is dead. He's gone.

I'm the last one left. Are you watching, Father? I'm all there is. I'm your legacy now.

After staring at the boat for what felt like years, Tyrion averted his guilty eyes. He looked down. He saw Euron's dagger first. Then the blood. Red, the color he had grown up surrounded by. Pure Lannister red. Try as he might, Tyrion found he could not look away. The blood led towards the entrance to the keep. It had collapsed, much like the rest of the Red Keep. It had been so tall, so magnificent, once. The Breaker of Chains had broken the Red Keep, and the Seven Kingdoms with it.

She told me she would break the wheel, once. Perhaps this is what she meant.

As he stood there, Tyrion reflected that all his life men had called him a Half-Man. For the first time, he felt like one.

Tyrion did not remember making his way into the ruins of the Red Keep itself. He did not remember picking his way through the rubble to find the room where the dragon skulls had been. Of course, there were no dragon skulls now. There was nothing but dust, stone, and debris.

And something that was reflecting the day's dim light into Tyrion's eyes. He barely even noticed it at first; what was a little light compared to the crushing weight on his mind? But whatever it was did not flicker, or dim. It clung to the light, as if in desperation. Finally, he turned to look at the source of the disturbance. A pile of rubble. The doorway to the collapsed tunnel that led out to the sea.

A golden hand protruding from the heap of stone and debris.

Tyrion scrambled over the wreckage in his way with all the speed and agility of an acrobat. A larger man probably would have failed. Tyrion was many things. He was miserable. He was bitter. He was guilty. He was angry. He was not large, though. Tyrion reached the hand, fell to his knees, and grasped it. His mouth opened, he began to weep, but was rudely interrupted by a somewhat muffled hiss of pain, followed by a wonderfully familiar voice.

"If you want to kill me, just leave me here to die in peace, you son of a whore."

Tyrion was numb for a moment. His emotional faculties had been stretched thin that day; first Varys burned, then King's Landing burned, then he had thought his last remaining family had been crushed. All that stress, combined with this new blow, finally broke the Imp's resolve.

He struggled through his tears and his brother's pained curses to speak to the only person who had ever truly cared about him left alive.

"Is that any way to speak about our mother?"

The snarling and cursing from beneath the rubble abated, if only for a moment. Jaime was clearly in a great deal of pain, even if it appeared that the tunnel entrance had sheltered him from most of the collapsing rocks. He stumbled on his words, wheezing as if it was difficult to get them all. Tyrion supposed that if a castle had fallen on top of him, he probably would not be in much of a state to talk either..

"Leave, Tyrion. It's over. Go back to your dragon Queen." There was a pause, and a grunt. "I'm dying. I'm trapped. Leave me here to die alongside the woman I loved."

Tyrion opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off again as his brother kept talking.

"I killed her, Tyrion. I strangled her to death so she would suffer no more. She would have died slowly if I hadn't, stones shattered her spine and legs. Shattered her child. Our child. My last child."

Tyrion had no more tears to cry with. He clambered to his feet, and reassured his brother.

"I'll come back soon, with somebody to help me lift these rocks." He paused, and decided some levity might do his brother good. "Don't go anywhere."

"Don't bother," replied the voice from under the stones. "Leave me here. If you're lucky the Dragon Queen might save you to burn some other day."

It is this that assures Tyrion that Jaime is still himself, somewhere beneath the ruins of the Red Keep. Jaime had always put the safety of those he loved before his own.

If he's still doing that, he can't be gone. Not yet.

Tyrion walks a bit faster. He needs to find Ser Davos Seaworth.

A/N: And there is the first chapter, in all its shambling mediocrity. Leave a review if you like, tell me how to improve and all. Thanks for reading, and the next update will hopefully be soon.