GOTP Chapter 28

The guard’s torch cast long shadows down the row of cages. Men stirred, some muttering, some groaning in their sleep. The stink of piss and mud in the air.

Behind the bars, two figures sat chained to opposite posts - one fair-haired and calm even in filth, the other a young Lannister boy who still believed honor meant something.

They shared blood, and once, the foolish eagerness of youth. None of that mattered now.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the drip of water and the shuffle of boots outside.

“Have you thought about it?” Alton asked at last.

“Every day,” Jaime said.

“And?” the boy pressed.

“Good prisoners breed good jailers, it seems.” Jaime lifted his gaze toward the guards’ post. “The Starks are careful men… but there might be a way now. I think. Wasn’t possible before.”

Alton leaned forward. "What is it?"

Jaime’s tone turned distant. “Simple enough.”

Eager Alton says "Well, let me help you."

“You’ll only need to do one thing.”

"Tell me." The boy’s voice softened, curious.

Jaime leaned close, voice a whisper.

“You’ll have to die.”

The sound came first, a crack of skull against stone, then the chains clattering as Jaime struck again and again. When the guard called Torrhen came running, Alton was already still, head twisted, eyes wide and glassy against the dirt.

Torrhen wrenched the gate open, stepping inside with his blade half-drawn, wary.
He never saw the lunge.
Jaime’s chains whipped out, looped tight around his throat. The Kingslayer pulled until his teeth bared, feral, the man’s boots scraping uselessly against the floor.

Then came the sound that did not belong to men, a shriek that wake up the night.

The torchlight dimmed as shadow swept over the camp. The guards froze. From the darkness beyond the tents, something vast and burning dropped through the air- a bird of flame.

Velmir hit the ground hard enough to rattle the cage. Fire scattered like sparks off his wings.. His feathers glowed as if lit from within, eyes two molten embers that burned straight into Jaime’s gaze.

The Kingslayer stumbled back, the chain slipping from his fingers. His breath caught.

Velmir moved fast. The lock screeched as his talons tore through the wooden frame. One claw seized Jaime by the head and slammed him against the post. Jaime gasped - not from pain alone, but disbelief.

Guards froze where they gathered. The creature’s eyes swept across them and though it made no sound, something unseen pressed down on their chests. A gaze, leer. The men faltered, trembling, unable to make a step forward.

Torrhen coughed blood, crawling away, half-choked but alive.

Then came fire.

Velmir turned his head toward Alton’s body. Between his beak, flames bloomed - bright, clean, merciful. A breath later, the boy’s corpse was burning, a small pyre lit with pity. His suffering burned away before rot could claim him.
Such was his grace- savage, but kind.

Smoke curled up like incense. The smell of burnt hair and blood filled the air.

Men gathered. Robb Stark was among them. Lord Karstark pushed through and, seeing his son clutching his neck, reached for his knife before Robb’s hand caught his wrist.

“Enough,” the Young Wolf said, voice taut.

Rhaenys came then, a dark cloak thrown over her nightdress, drawn by the cries. She looked past the blaze and saw Velmir’s talons still resting near Jaime’s head. Her voice broke the silence - soft, panicked, almost pleading.

“Velmir.”

The creature turned, gaze softening for her alone.

Jaime lifted his head at the sound, dazed, blood streaking his cheek. For a heartbeat, he saw not Rhaenys, but Elia. Her face flickered before him like a ghost.

He whispered it  “Elia.”

Velmir’s grip eased. He stepped back. The Kingslayer fell to the dirt, shaking.

Without another sound, the firebird walked to the remains of Alton, wings folding. One last pulse of flame and the ashes scattered into the night wind.

No man dared move.

Velmir looked up once more, eyes gleaming like twin coals, and every soul who met his gaze felt their knees weaken. Then, with a sound like thunder and silk tearing, he took to the air, fire trailing behind him as he vanished into the dark.

Only when the night was silent again did men breathe.

Robb let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d held. “Gods…”

Rhaenys did not answer. Her eyes lingered on the smoke curling above the camp.
“It was mercy,” she said quietly. “For the boy.”

And Jaime Lannister bloodied, trembling, and more afraid than he’d ever been in battle pressed his head to the earth and could not look up.