Author's Note: The chapter number climbs ever higher and you lovely readers continue to be loyal to this story. I greatly appreciate your support! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Thank you, Catzrko0l, for continuing to be the beta of this fic. You are amazing!

Chapter 77

Jaime XXV

Jaime leveled a far-eye out his window and spotted the trail of lights coming into the city. It was as if a swarm of fireflies had started to march towards the keep, but were instead an unending stream of torchlights. It's started, he thought. He glanced briefly up at the moon. It was only about three-quarters full. My father moved up the timetable. It must've been a result of the leaks about a coup.

Was his father aware that his own sons were the source of the leaks? If his angry words the other day were anything to go by, he appeared to be wholly oblivious that his favored son had spread the news himself. Then again, for a move this big, it wasn't likely for the lid to stay on for long. However, that still hadn't prevented his father from sealing his door tight using Lannister soldiers loyal to him.

He set the far-eye down and continued to pull on his armor. To keep from alarming the guards, Podrick was forced to retire to his room and would not be taking part in the arrest of his father or Lord Baelish. The poor boy didn't deserve to be left out, but getting the main culprits was more urgent than rewarding his squire. He left off the helmet and blew out the candles and made his way to the fireplace. He pulled the lever and grit his teeth at the grinding of the door as it slid against the rock. He peaked in first and met the eyes of Vicente.

"Are you ready?" Jaime whispered. His own voice trembled like a plucked string in the color orange.

Vicente gave a curt nod and disappeared into the dark. Jaime shuffled forward, trying to keep from breathing as he listened for Vicente's footsteps as he climbed down the ladder. Kneeling down, he felt blindly in the dark until his hand hit the top of the ladder and he sighed in relief. It had been long enough since he'd ventured into the tunnels that he wasn't sure where the drop began and didn't want to chance stepping into open air.

His mouth felt dry as the descent seemed to take forever. He let out a breath when the hole opened up and he could see the Shepherds waiting for him. He quickly assessed the group, nodding at each of them. His Uncle Gerion, Ser Callum, Vicente, Lady Delphine, and a less familiar man named Geoffrey were suited up, looking grim-faced and determined.

He turned to Lady Delphine. "Is your husband ready?"

"Yes, he will sound the bells to wake everyone when the moon is near its zenith."

"Good. We don't have a moment to spare. Lead the way, Vicente," Jaime said.

The young man took the torch from Uncle Gerion and started down the passageways without another word. They fell in behind them. Only the scraping of their boots against the dry stone could be heard. It started wearing on Jaime's nerves and he turned to his uncle and whispered, "How's the healer? Has he recovered yet?"

"Nearly. He has been up and about. He's changing his own bandages now. Still sleeps a lot. He wanted to come tonight, but we convinced him otherwise." It soothed Jaime that his uncle's voice was a calmer blue, but the cadence of his voice appeared turbulent. He was doing a good job of appearing calm and cool in the face of their task.

Jaime gave Uncle Gerion a doubletake. "Why would he want to come tonight? He's a healer."

"Likely because he is a healer. He was a healer during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. It wasn't uncommon for him to slap a bandage on a wound or pull out a remedy. Messy but effective," Gerion replied.

"He is not young anymore," Jaime said with a grim frown.

"Few of us are. He saw wisdom and relented. Vicente and I both have patches and salves at the ready if anything goes amiss," Uncle Gerion whispered.

"We're here," Vicente shot back at them.

They started climbing again. Jaime felt his insides twisting up with nerves and he silently chastised himself for such a ridiculous reaction. You're Jaime Lannister with both hands, who took the Riverlands with just one, and struggled through The Long Night. This is nothing. Even as much as he tried to find his confidence, he could feel his heart pounding and he had to hastily wipe the sweat from his hands. He was facing his father. This wasn't just a disagreement over a wedding. His father was enacting a coup and he was the only one who could stop it. Did he have the nerve to face his father in battle? There was no denying that he outclassed his father, but the coup already meant his father would stand trial for treason. His head would be on the block. He had nothing to lose now and he couldn't imagine his father going quietly.

I don't have to kill him. Just...wound him, he tried to soothe himself, but his father was old. Perhaps not frail like Hoster Tully, but far past his prime. He had to be very careful. I might as well throw myself on my own sword if he dies. Cursed are the kinslayers. He breathed a sigh of relief when he came to the landing.

Vicente was already at the lever. He gave the wall a few knocks then pulled the lever.

"What the-?"

Jaime stepped out into the dining area to find a Stark guard staring stunned. He opened his mouth but Jaime grabbed him and put him in a headlock. The guard clawed at his armor and spittle flew from his teeth as he struggled against Jaime. When the guard finally slumped, Vicente helped catch him and gently lay him to the floor.

"We'll have to stow him, but I want to get to Robb," Jaime whispered. The lot of them quietly made their way into the hall. Jaime counted doors. Once he arrived, he knocked and turned the handle to enter. He found it locked. "Vicente."

The young man moved in with his tools and after a few seconds the lock clicked and he pushed the door open. Jaime barged in. Robb Stark scrambled for his sword, but his feet got tangled in the sheets when he tried to hop out of bed.

"There won't be any need for that."

"Lord Jaime?" Robb asked, squinting in the darkness. His voice was a burnt orange from a combination of tension and fear.

"One in the same."

"Is it time?" Lady Margaery had leapt out of bed far more gracefully. Her voice was a mixture of red and green from her fury and excitement. Though she was wearing a nightgown, she was fastening her robe.

"Yes. The Lannister Army has already entered the city. You need to leave. Now."

Margaery frowned at him and said, "I know the plan is for you to arrest your father. How do you know he'll be here? He wasn't there when Princess Elia Martell and her children were murdered."

Jaime nodded and replied, "I am certain he will be here personally because this is a more complicated situation. He wants Robb dead, but he needs your safety secured. He thinks the Reach is his ally and his intention is to marry you to the new king."

Robb's eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. He glanced to Margaery and reached out for her hand to squeeze it. "It's really happening," Robb whispered, having finally stood to his feet. Jaime was grateful to find he was wearing sleep pants. He then scrambled over to where his day-clothes were propped and began hastily pulling them on.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Your father is coming to take my wife! And to take Jo-Aemon's throne! I intend to fight."

"Absolutely not. If Aemon dies, you are his heir. And the Stark's heir. You're too important. That is why my father is coming to kill you. Not imprison, kill. You're going."

"What about Sansa and Arya?" Robb was wild-eyed and excitable. Margaery came over to grab his arm and hold him in place.

"They're going too. I don't want any of you here to foul this up."

"Well, whuh-where are we going?"

"Into the tunnels. Lady Delphine will lead you to a safe room that we have picked out," Jaime said, his annoyance was becoming more apparent with each word.

"Trust, Robb. We can trust Jaime," Margaery said to him.

Jaime didn't miss the uncertain slide Robb's eyes took to Margaery before he nodded. He turned to address the Shepherds to keep himself from making a snide comment to Robb for his slow wits. "Ser Callum, Geoffrey, fetch Lady Sansa and Lady Arya. Be quick about it."

"Let me get my sisters. They know me."

"Very well," Jaime gestured for Ser Callum and Geoffrey to follow Robb. The two nodded and fell in behind the Stark heir. Enough light shined in from the moon that they were able to pick their way through the hallways. Robb frowned when he saw the guard and gave Jaime a suspicious look.

"He's alive," Jaime grumbled, rolling his eyes.

The first door on the left was already open and Robb ducked in.

"R-robb? What's going on?' Sansa asked, looking small and innocent in her nightgown, staring up in terror at the two Shepherds dressed in their armor.

"We have to hide. Someone is coming," Robb said.

"Yuh-you're going to fight them off?" She asked with wide eyes.

Robb grimaced. "No, Lord Jaime will fight for us. Come now. There's no time to lose."

Jaime remained quiet and lurked outside the hall. He listened to the girl ask about her wolves and father. She was just barely on the cusp of staying calm. Vicente took the opportunity to bound the Stark guard's hands and feet. Jaime took the cue and they moved him to Sansa's now open bedroom and shut the door before locking it.

Geoffrey and Ser Callum moved from her room to Lady Arya's room. They knocked on the door politely. One of them placed his ear on the door. He frowned.

"Arya doesn't trust easily. Let me," Robb said. "Arya?" The boy disappeared into the room. Jaime felt his shoulders tighten upon seeing Robb's confusion.

"Where is she?"

"I, uh, I don't know. Arya?"

"Quiet! We have to stay quiet," Jaime snapped.

"What do we do? We can't just hide away without my baby sister."

Jaime huffed and ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "We're going to have to. We can't afford to waste time looking for her right now."

"But she's just a young girl. She has to be here somewhere."

Jaime wasted no time in grabbing Robb and pushing him towards his own room. "Boy, listen to me when I say that 'young girl' is a survivor. We will find her and we will bring her to safety. But right now, we have to safeguard yours and the rest of your family's lives. Now go! Follow Lady Delphine. She will take you to a safe place."

"I shouldn't be safe, I should be fighting," Robb grumbled.

"I trust, my lady, that you will be able to keep him in line," Jaime growled at Lady Delphine.

She drew herself up proudly. "Don't you worry about us. Just do your part. I will do mine," she replied and led the way into the secret passage.

They closed the doors to the girls' rooms. Robb summoned a second Stark guard that had been posted outside their quarters and sent him to patrol the hallway and sound the alarm if he saw anything suspicious. Jaime and the crew retreated to Robb's and Lady Margaery's room. Jaime turned to Vicente, Uncle Gerion, Geoffrey, and Ser Callum. "Stay out of sight, but keep your arms at the ready. We want my father alive. Understand?"

When they all nodded, Jaime placed himself on the other side of the door, so that he would be in perfect position to pounce on the first person who walked into the room. Vicente and Geoffrey hid behind the bed, Ser Callum pulled the curtains around himself, and his Uncle Gerion hid in the corner amongst the shadows.

Jaime focused on his breathing. He was wound up and fretful. Before the night was over, he was going to arrest his own father. He knew this day had been coming. He had known it nearly since he'd woken up back in his own body sixteen years prior. Westeros could not unite and begin to face the Long Night with Tywin Lannister at play. While he was certain his father could be moved by evidence of the wight, he knew that it would not encourage his father to fall in line. He would assume that there was no one better to lead the kingdom against such a threat than himself. His father would make things contentious. It's all he knew how to do.

He wiped his hands on his trousers, again, as the minutes ticked by. They had to be close. He was grateful for the support of his Uncle Gerion because going against his father and arresting him was going to be one of the most difficult things he had ever done. Standing against Cersei had been easy. She was weak and Jaime's wrath for all she had done to him overrode any feelings of love and patience that dared threaten to bubble to the surface. But his father had been the driving force of his life. It was mostly his principles that he'd worked to instill in Jaime. Despite his effort, Jaime hadn't taken to them very well, but it was not for nothing that his father was the only one who was capable of making him feel like a child again.

Is this truly the only way? He wondered wistfully. Was it not possible for his father to learn? To be influenced? Or, at the very least, recognize that his son was finally ready to step up and take his place as Lord of Casterly Rock? That's all his father had ever lectured him about. And yet, when Jaime had stood up to him, his father hadn't been pleased or even surprised, but furious. No doubt Cersei had gotten her love for power from their father. No one would have been able to wrench Cersei from the throne without her corpse adorning it and he suspected his father would have a similar reticence. But unlike Cersei, his father understood when a strategic retreat was necessary and he would simply fade back and scheme, as he did now with Aemon on the throne.

But apart from sparing Westeros more of his father's designs, Jaime had resigned himself to that moment because his father would never approve of a marriage between him and Brienne. Short of her being the king's daughter or at least a lord paramount's daughter, she was simply too minor of nobility and too grotesque for his father's sensibilities. Tywin scoffed at the idea of marrying for love, which Jaime thought rather rich in light of the fact that he had married his own second cousin, Jaime's mother, Lady Joanna. And by all Jaime had heard, his father had married her for love.

The peal of a bell ringing the alarm cut through the night air, causing Jaime to startle. He had hoped Cyrus would wait a little longer, but it seemed likely the Lannister army was already tearing down doors. Is it too early? He thought. His father had to be in the Keep, but would he even bother making his way to Robb's room if he no longer had the element of surprise? Jaime pulled himself up straight and drew his sword, keeping it pointed to the floor. He would wait for the time being. If his father didn't arrive within the next few minutes, he would go hunting for him. None of them would escape him. Not even Baelish.

He had already lived one lifetime without Brienne. He'd be damned if he spent this life without her. His heart ached merely at the thought that he had squashed her spirit in light of her duel. He hadn't seen any sign of her since Lady Margaery apparently delivered his note, not that he expected to. Yet he couldn't shake the fantasy of her coming to his office and confessing her love for him as well. It was a foolish notion, but it only cemented his resolve to see his father in chains. And it had made shouldering the stress of the previous week bearable.

There was a shout of alarm that was abruptly cutoff. Jaime tensed and straightened up, bracing himself. The guard had no doubt met a bloody end. He then heard the scraping of boots on the stone outside the door. He stopped breathing as he strained to listen. The low murmur of someone speaking in a quiet voice, and though Jaime could not hear the words, they had a curt cadence that suggested the issuing of orders. The door handle turned and there was only a slight squeak as the door swung on its hinges. He leaned away from the door as it approached him and stopped only an inch short.

Jaime cocked his head and strained to get an angle on who was in the room.

He could just see the back of a soldier's helm as he entered the room. Then he saw the back of the head of a tall person in signature Lannister armor. Jaime thought he heard a sharp intake of breath and then the brusque, angry tones of his father sounded from the person, "What is this?" All of their attention was on the empty bed.

In one swift move, Jaime slipped Brightroar behind his father and brushed the edge of it against his neck.

"I've got you now," Jaime whispered. His father stiffened and he imagined the affront on his face.

In the next moment, Vicente and Geoffrey sprung up from behind the bed. Jaime saw glimpses of glittering silver as Vicente's throwing knives flew. Judging by the grunts of pain, they felled their targets. There was a clashing of metal as Jaime assumed his Uncle Gerion and Ser Callum joined in the fray. After one last agonized cry of pain, silence fell.

His father had simply stood there as the carnage waged around him. Jaime pushed the door closed and saw Gerion had stepped up to his older brother. Although it was dark, he could see the sneer on his uncle's face. "Fancy I should find you committing treason, brother. You were never good at letting things be."

"That I should live to see the day my own son and brother betray me…" Tywin allowed the sentence to trail and he glared at the two of them. "There is a special place in hell for blood traitors." His voice was burnt orange in color.

Jaime tilted his head and replied in a mocking tone, "Did we betray you? Or did you betray me? Our position at the right hand of the king was secure, but that could never be good enough for you despite the clear evidence that Cersei had begotten bastards. You should have considered yourself fortunate that you were not put on trial for the murder of King Aemon's half-siblings. That should have been enough. Any other man would've thanked the Seven for the rest of his days. But not you. It's never enough for you."

His father seemed only able to stare at him with his usual cold look and then he said in a voice that was quiet and blue: "Treason is judged by the victors. Was Robert Baratheon a traitor when he deposed Aerys? Was Aegon the Conqueror, when he had the Storm King killed, and so many others, and took Westeros for his own? You are too concerned with what the sheep will think of you. You lack the conviction to be the Cyvasse player instead of one of the pieces."

"You think I am a dolt simply because I lack your lust for power. Did you really think I didn't know why King Aemon instituted the quarantine at the Vale? I told him he needed to do something to get the Vale back out of control of Petyr Baelish. Lady Lysa did not act alone. Not only did he provide her the poison, but he encouraged her. He has her wrapped around his…little finger. She would do anything for him. Including marrying him. But he had to be in a more promising position to not raise eyebrows. And that was where you came in…"

He heard his Uncle Gerion hiss and thought perhaps that the revelations were insidious even for him. For the first time, he thought he saw guilt on his father's face.

"The other day you suggested that you had control of the Ironborn. Let me guess: Petyr Baelish offered to negotiate the deal with the Ironborn and promised they'd come cheaply?"

Jaime was almost surprised when his father gave the barest of nods. "He did."

"I must say, Father, your memory has grown short. Do you not recall when I was taken prisoner by the Ironborn? Do you really think that was happenstance? Baelish played you for a fool."

"Lord Baelish's utility was always going to be… limited," Twyin replied.

"Oh, I'm sure you had every intention of killing him. Have no doubt that he had the same fate already planned for you."

Jaime turned away as he heard the clashing of swords and the shouts of men as they fought and died. He reached for the mixture David created that could knock out anyone and just as he was beginning to pour some on a handkerchief, his father spoke.

"I did it for you. I did it for our family."

"You did it for your legacy," Jaime snapped. "You never cared about what I wanted. All of your 'designs' were only ever about where you wanted the family to be. You don't even know me! I wanted to be a knight. I wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne. I have never felt so proud as when I earned a knighthood from him. I had earned his respect. That meant more to me than anything you have ever bestowed upon me. I wanted to be that man of honor. Everything that I have done after I shoved my sword into the Mad King's back was to regain my honor and support the true king."

"I always wanted what was best for you."

"No, you didn't," he replied curtly.

"Joffrey was only ever meant to be a means to an end. Him being marked a bastard was a stain that we would never be rid of. But you're still his uncle. The next male in line should anything happen to him."

Jaime felt himself sway and he turned to face his father, shock and confusion on his face.

"I was paving the path for you to be King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"You would kill your own grandson?"

"I wouldn't. But that doesn't mean that our enemies wouldn't as well. You were always meant to lead. These last two months have proven that. No one who looks at you conducting court sees a mere Hand. They see a man capable of being a king they haven't seen or heard of since Aegon. You could have been great."

Jaime drew himself up and glared at his father. "If there was ever a moment I was great, it was when I killed King Aerys II Targaryen. I never wanted to be king and I never will." He held the handkerchief to the tin lid and soaked it with the sharp smelling liquid. "There's no getting out of this one."

"No, I don't suppose there is," Tywin replied. Gerion led his brother to the bed and sat him on it. "But why… why the Targaryen? You say you are proud of killing his grandfather, and yet you betray me in his favor."

"King Aemon is nothing like his grandfather."

"And yet he insists on marrying his aunt, perpetuating the same unholy sin of incest. Aerys was once sane as well."

"He is the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, raised by the Starks. Prince Rhaegar was a good man. King Aemon will be even better."

His father narrowed his eyes at him. "How can you be so sure?"

"Bind his hands," Jaime whispered.

Vicente made to move in, but his father snatch his hands away.

"You're hiding something."

It wouldn't matter even if you knew. The words were on Jaime's lips, but he bit his tongue. He didn't want his uncle or the rest of the Shepherds asking similarly awkward questions.

"I'll see you in the morning, Father," Jaime said. He was able to look his father in the eyes as he applied the handkerchief. His heart felt like it faltered as his father began blinking slowly and he listed to the side. Jaime only let up when his father was sprawled on the bed. He leaned in and relaxed as he heard the steady exhaling of his father.

"Bind his hands, Vicente. Uncle Gerion, I'd prefer you stay behind and watch my father. Make sure no one shows to steal him away. Let's go. I need to stop the fighting."

Jaime hurried through the halls and down the stairs. His footsteps sounded dangerously loud and slow as he made his way through the Stark's house quarters. The few household soldiers that typically guarded it at night were dark and unmoving where they lay on the floor. The door at the front of the quarters was ajar. When Jaime burst through, he startled the two guards standing at it.

"Lord Jaime—"

He ignored them and stared. The courtyard was in chaos. It was so dark that he couldn't recognize friend from foe. Men swung their swords and screamed in agony. The cacophony of red, yellow, and orange colors washed over Jaime like a flood and he struggled to see his way through the sounds and the crush of bodies.

With his sword drawn, Jaime tried weaving his way through the battle. Any stray sword that got in his way or brushed him was met with a brutal counterattack and then he was on his way. He ducked by an alley and ran up a set of stairs. A pair of soldiers rushed him from the top. He moved aside and kicked the legs out of one so that he crumbled at the bottom of the stairs and then he rushed the other and shoved him off the side where he crumpled with a groan ten feet down.

"Lannister army, stand down! Stand down now," Jaime roared and he flinched at the bleeding red of his own voice as it filled his vision. His stomach was already churning and he could feel the pressure of a headache building.

The colors lessened as the closer soldiers stopped in their tracks, but not everyone appeared to have heard him.

"Lannister army, stand down!"

"At ease! At ease," a man in armor came rushing through and his own soldiers stopped their assault on the Lannister army.

"Lord Tywin Lannister has been arrested for conspiracy and treason," Jaime announced. "This conflict is over! Sheath your swords!" His heart thumped in his chest and he could feel sweat dripping from his brow as he waited with bated breath. While the Lannister Army was familiar with his command, their first deference was to his father. Was being arrested enough to switch the Lannister Army's loyalty?

There was marked hesitation as the soldiers eyed each other and then finally the Lannister men started sheathing their swords.

"Reach men, sheath your swords!" Ser Loras commanded after having taken off his helm. Jaime was surprised to find him leading his men. He walked over to Jaime. Although his expression was angry and grim, he still nodded and asked, "Is it over then?"

"Not quite yet," Jaime said in a guttural voice. "We need to search the city. Petyr Baelish is an accomplice and I want him found alive!"

Ser Loras cocked his head and Jaime thought he heard him growl. "That worm. He would be behind this. I will divide my men into squads."

"I think I can make our search shorter. I know some of his hiding spots," Vicente replied with glittering eyes.

"Anything for us?" Ser Callum asked from a few steps down as he, Geoffrey, and Vicente appeared.

"Geoffrey, get the rest of the Shepherds and see what the damage is. Wake the maesters and tend to the wounded. I want a full report when I return," Jaime said.