A Game of Lies

Messages From the Dead

The Maester had called for wet cloths be covered over the boy. As the other men froze, the boy lay there, his cheeks rosy, and his hair damp with sweat, shirtless, insisting he was fine.

"Father!", he called, as another wet cloth was laid over him, "father, please! Listen! I'm, I'm okay! Really, stop!", and finally Jaime stood still a moment for his son to get a sentence through to him.

"Father, I feel fine!", he said, a bit of a laugh in his voice.

"You're obviously not fine!", his father said, frantically.

"I am though!", he insisted, sitting up, and knocking the cloths from his chest, neck, and shoulders.

"I..I actually feel really okay, father. I'm not in any pain at all", he insisted, shaking his head as he did so.

"How is that possible", Jaime asked the Maester, who just shrugged.

"When was the last time the boy was given Milk of the Poppy?", the man asked, but before Jaime could answer, his son spoke.

"It's not that! It's, it's something else, something- he said, but Jaime suddenly cut him off.

"Out!", he yelled to the men now all crammed in the wheelhouse.

When all the men had left, Jaime put his hand to his forehead, pacing the tiny wheelhouse.

"Father, what is it ", Lewyn asked.

Jaime kept pacing.

Lewyn stood up then, not a wince left him, as he walked to his father. Jaime looked at him, wide eyed.

"I'm alright, father", he said, laying his hand on Jaime's shoulder.

Jaime looked into his sons eyes then, and somehow found himself not able to look away. He felt a sort of tingle in his shoulder, like little tiny bolts of lightening, and he continued to stare into his sons eyes.

"You remember much more than you're telling me", he suddenly said.

Lewyn's smile suddenly faded away. His hand feel from Jaime's shoulder, and just like that the lightening storm was over. He no longer felt so strongly to stare into his son's eyes. He suddenly couldn't remember why he had said such a thing.

"Just.. Some of the dreams", he said looking at his feet, "but like you said father, they're only dreams", he said hurriedly, but it sounded more of a question than a statement.

Jaime suddenly became very interested in what his son had to say about these dreams. He sat then, and motioned for his son to sit as well.

"Tell me", he said.

He could see how uncomfortable Lewyn was, but he needed to hear. He needed to know. Something very strange was happening, and he needed to know exactly what.

"Well", Lewyn began.

"I remember, I remember waking up. I was lying on the floor of the throne room, and you were there. Much younger, and I watched you kill the Mad King", Lewyn said.

"Did he say anything? When I..", Jaime asked.

"Burn them all", Lewyn said, and it felt as if Jaime's blood had run cold. He swallowed hard before he spoke again.

"And then what happened?", he asked, his voice cracking a bit.

"You... Slit his throat", the boy said, and Jaime took a deep inhale of air, because it suddenly felt as if his own lungs drained of all air.

Jaime could feel his heart racing, and felt the blood drain from his face.

"But that was all a dream?", Lewyn asked, slowly.

Jaime took a moment. Hot years pulled at his eyes, and he wasn't exactly sure why, but he managed a reassuring smile, and said "yes".

But Lewyn had much more to say. And as the boy went on, Jaime became more and more scared, and the tears threatened to break free. But then he got to the Trident, and Jaime didn't know if he could stand reliving this part, even if it was a bit different than what actually happened. But what shocked Jaime the most was when the boy said he spoke with Rhaegar Targaryen. That Rhaegar Targaryen was the one to show him all these things. That Rhaegar Targaryen told him he had the blood of the dragon in him, and that he was much more powerful than Lewyn could ever imagine himself to be. He said the last thing Rhaegar said to him, before king Robert killed him, was "the dragon has awoken".

"But, why did Robert kill you?", Jaime asked, trying not to show how utterly terrified he felt.

"He said he'd kill every last Targaryen", the boy shrugged, "but I'm not a Targaryen", but then he looked up to Jaime.

"Am I? I mean my moth-", but Jaime cut him off

"You are not a Targaryen", he said sharply.

Lewyn went quiet.

"Father", Lewyn said, and Jaime knew what he was going to ask.

"I think we've done enough talking for the night", Jaime said quickly, before Lewyn had the chance.

He heard Lewyn sigh as he blew out the candles, and laid down.

But Lewyn didn't sleep that night. Instead, he stared at the painted ceiling of the wheelhouse, decorated with little shapes, and he wondered about everything. He knew his father wasn't telling him something. He could just tell. And as he rolled to his side, and stared at his sleeping father, he sighed, and reached out, laying his hand on his fathers arm. He intended to test if he could feel the cold of his fathers flesh, but instead, he felt his eyes roll back into his own head.

~~~~~~~~~

Hey guys. I don't really know if I'm supposed to do this here, but little note. Leave me a comment letting me know exactly what you guys think about Lewyn and why/what is going on with him. I'm very curious! Thanks for reading! ✌️💜