Full Summary: Tangentially connected to The Dragon's Roar. For those unfamiliar with that story, Jaime Lannister and Jon Snow are sent back in time by the gods to make things right. Jaime is sent back to the day Cersei marries Robert Baratheon. He tries to commit suicide a few years before TDR begins. No one sees and he is saved by the gods. In this story, when Jaime commits suicide, he's not alone. Ser Barristan sees him. How would this change the circumstances?

TDR readers, fear not. This is a novella. It's very close to being done and it in no way retreads what I've written there, but it implies a different branch in the storyline.

Why did I decide to write this? Because intrusive plot bunnies are intrusive.

Updated 4/9/2019: Edited for a smoother read.

Chapter 1

Behind the closed door of the Lord Commander's room, Ser Barristan sighed in frustration as he labored over the piece of parchment. 'Who would have thought commanding the greatest knights in the realm would be like having to corral a bunch of finicky children?' He thought sourly. Ser Meryn Trant had begged off his shift for the evening due to illness, which Ser Barristan suspected was actually a hangover. A real knight would power through something so small, but he had no evidence to indicate otherwise, and he'd rather not assign a sick knight to guard the king. A Kingsguard had to be on his toes at all times when guarding and ill people tended to have the focus of a sleeping hound.

Ser Arys Oakheart was currently guarding the King. He was reliable if strangely timid. He tried to avoid doubling shifts though. Ser Mandon Moore had spent the entirety of the night before guarding the Queen. He was a possibility for subbing, but he too had a reputation along with Boros Blount of begging off shifts. Ser Boros was currently guarding the queen, so he was out. Ser Preston Greenfield was away, visiting family and wasn't due back for another week. The children, Myrcella and Julianna, were being guarded by the Queen's personal guard. Not for the first time he was grateful that Sandor Clegane was the sworn shield of Prince Joffrey, so that he didn't have to worry about scheduling a guard for him.

He settled his quill tip on Jaime Lannister's name and paused.

It was Jaime's day off. As much as he didn't like Ser Jaime, he was by far the most reliable member of the Kingsguard he had. Ever since he asked for three months to tour the Westerlands with his brother, he had never asked for another day off. That had been four years ago. If Barristan didn't know better, he'd say that Boros and Mandon had a tendency to walk all over Jaime, pressing him into taking their shifts. Jaime was never a pushover, as was obvious in the training yard, when he sent them sprawling like they were no better than boys, however he always obliged and took their shifts. Never complaining, never protesting, just quiet and immovable not unlike a stone golem.

In fact, something had been bothering Barristan about Ser Jaime for some time. He was too quiet. Too docile for an aggressive master swordsman. Too compliant. Those were the last words Barristan would have said about Jaime of old. Even back during the reign of King Aerys when things were going downhill, he had attempted fake cheer, papered over with sarcasm. No one was happy then, least of all a green boy who was being used as a tool by King Aerys.

They had all suffered then, Jaime moreso than the rest of the Kingsguard having to be so close to Aerys at all times. Regardless, Ser Barristan still hadn't forgiven Jaime for murdering their king. He knew it had been a mistake to leave a green boy like him alone to look after the king by himself. However, he was ordered to follow his prince, so follow he did, never raising an objection. He now wished he had, on more than one occasion. Perhaps things wouldn't have gone so sour if he had been brave enough to talk to his prince about his thoughts and concerns.

'What's done is done,' Barristan thought. He had prided himself on keeping his thoughts about his brothers in the Kingsguard to himself, but when he had learned what Jaime had done, he'd marched over wounded and all to lecture him.

Ser Jaime had affected smug arrogance and had taken the lecture from Ser Barristan without even so much as a contrite expression.

If it was at all possible, his callousness infuriated Barristan even more and just as he was leaving, he sneered, "I knew you were too young for the Kingsguard."

Jaime's smile faltered for the first time at that. It was only then he saw the disarming smile for what it was: a facade. But Barristan had been too enraged back then to care and stormed away from the young Kingsguard. It had been over ten years and they still barely said more than a handful of words to one another. Barristan attempted to cover up his own dislike of Ser Jaime by simply ignoring him in all situations that didn't require interaction. Ser Jaime let him.

However, as he was forced to live in close proximity with his brothers in arms, he couldn't help but notice that Jaime had no friends or acquaintances. He knew King's Landing was a difficult place to live and he wasn't oblivious to the backstabbing that was rife throughout the Keep, but even he had a few lords he could rub elbows with and, when he had time off, play dice. The last time Barristan saw Jaime truly smile was when his brother Tyrion had visited and that was a few years ago.

Furthermore, Ser Jaime only ever seemed to be known by the name of Kingslayer. The king in particular was fond of calling him that and Barristan had noticed a slight tightening in Jaime's eyes when he said it, but otherwise he said nothing nor did anything.

Another oddity about Jaime was his peculiar fondness for wearing the Kingsguard helmet. It was required to be worn out on the battlefield, but in the Keep at a time of relative peace, Ser Barristan had made it optional. None of the other brothers wore it, only Jaime. In fact, Barristan remembered with some amusement that he'd scared the wits out of a prostitute exiting the king's room because she'd thought he was just a propped up suit of armor. She screamed when the suit of armor had suddenly looked her way.

Any attempts to talk with him were rebuffed. Barristan had quickly learned to not ask beyond a yes-no question and even then he frequently received a nod or a shake of his head in reply. He's not even sure Jaime had ever spoken a word to Ser Preston Greenfield and he had been added to the roster ten years ago.

If Jaime didn't want to talk, he couldn't make him. The other Kingsguard soon drove Jaime from Barristan's mind, complaining about scheduling and challenging him for fights in the training ring. He only ever made a cursory check on Jaime when he was present.

The only time he seemed to come alive was when he was in a sword fight. Whether he was on the battlefield, in the training yard, or in a tourney, he still delighted winning against all comers and gloating about it. Even his words were sharp enough to cut and no one was spared his tongue and that included Barristan. He fought anyone who was brave enough to ask for a bout and threw them in the dirt. Then, as if to make matches more interesting, he started training with his left hand. This delighted many as they could finally hold against him. But just as he had a preternatural talent with his right hand, it did not take him long to start winning using his left.

It seemed no matter how hard Barristan fought against Jaime, he could never quite win and the Kingslayer never let him forget that.

'Well, I better ask if he can cover Ser Meryn Trant's shift tonight.' He headed to Jaime's room and quickly rapped his fist on it. When he heard nothing, he said, "Ser Jaime, it's Ser Barristan. May I enter?" When he still couldn't hear anything, he tried the knob to find it unlocked and surprisingly empty. Even in this beautiful weather, Jaime had a tendency to spend his off days tucked away in his room. But nothing was out of place. He was just closing the door when he paused. Jaime's sword was leaning against the simple writing desk in the room.

'Jaime never goes anywhere without his sword,' Barristan thought. That sword was as much apart of Jaime as his hand was. He never went anywhere without it strapped to his side and as Kingsguard he was allowed to wear his sword at all times.

He closed the door and hurried downstairs. Only Mandon was seated at the table eating a late breakfast.

"Ser Mandon, have you seen Jaime?"

"Yeah, the cu - " He glanced up to see Barristan glaring at him and said, "He just passed by a few minutes ago. Had a rope in his hands."

"A rope?" Barristan felt his heart jolt and then settle. An eerie feeling was stealing over him, even as he tried to quash it. "Did he say where he was going?"

"Has he ever said anything to anyone?" Mandon replied in a curt voice, clearly irritable from his lack of sleep.

"Thank you," Barristan said hastily and hurried out the door. He glanced around and found Jaime to be nowhere in sight. He just started heading over to the training grounds, when he saw a servant out sweeping the stone steps.

"Have you seen Ser Jaime Lannister?" The servant was little more than a boy and he squeaked at being addressed by the Lord Commander. He went as stiff as a board and as white as milk. He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him and he merely pointed to a hallway.

"Thank you," Barristan replied and strode through the door, frowning. 'What is Jaime up to? Where could he be going?' There were few places in the Keep that offered solitude, let alone privacy. He was pretty certain, the Lord Varys himself would say there's no such thing as privacy in these walls. He had a feeling that was why Jaime had a tendency to stay in his room whenever he wasn't guarding or training.

A thrill of fear shivered through his body and he glanced around, wondering where it had come from. Hurry! The thought appeared in his head as if planted there and his stride quickened and before he realized it, he was at the godswood. He blinked in befuddlement, but at the same time thought, 'Of course. No one comes to the godswood. There are no worshippers of the Old Gods here.'

He stepped into the forest and began winding his way through the trees and bushes. When he caught sight of the weirwood tree, he came to a halt. Jaime had climbed the tree and was now perched on the thickest branch.

'What is he doing?'

He was wearing simple pair of breeches and a woolen shirt. His face seemed even more blank than usual, not that he saw his face often since it was usually covered by the helmet. He surveyed the area and then quite suddenly locked eyes with Barristan. His face darkened for a moment as they regarded each other. Then he shoved off the branch.

"No!"