#Jaime Broken-Blade

[itspronouncedjulia]

Jaime, two mugs of mead in, listening to Rhaenyra, also two mugs of mead in, breaking down just how overpriced Jaime's rent is.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 41

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, King's Landing POV

Words: 2219

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32  Part 33  Part 34  Part 35  Part 36  Part 37  Part 38  Part 39  Part 40 Part 42 Part 43

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

Varys scurried in the shadows as he occasionally glanced over his shoulder. The city streets were filled with rioters and broken glass. Had he not known all the ins and outs of the city, Varys would surely have succumbed to the mob frenzy. Once they saw his fine clothes, they would know he held an important position in life.

Vocally thanking the gods when he finally made it safely back in the Red Keep, Varys had to take a deep breath before continuing on his ay to the Small Council. In Doing so he passed by the towering figure of the Iron Throne. It was cast in an orange hue from the setting sun.

A small handing grabbing at his robes made his heart leap all the way to his throat. One of his little birds looked up at him with hungry eyes and much to tell.

Checking both ends of the corridor, he leans down to listen to the music his bird weaved. Such valuable information. What could this all mean for Westeros? Varys couldn’t believe that the crazy young girl Thalina had entrusted him with a dragon egg! She had outwitted the Spider and managed to keep the secret.

Thanking the child, he hurried to his original destination. A chamber off to the side of the Throne Room sat the King’s Small Council. They were considered the most powerful men in Westeros besides the king himself. Most times they made decisions when Aerys was incapacitated. The Mad King never made their work easy, but this was getting out of hand. Inside, Varys was enveloped by arguing from two of his colleagues while the others could only hold their head in their hands. At least the yelling in the chambers didn’t compare to the shouts and hollers that shook the earth outside. Owen Merryweather, Hand of the King since Tywin Lannister’s resignation, just stared into his stem of wine. Grand Maestor Pycelle was attempting to hold. His own against Gerold Hightower.

“You would dare even utter such treasonous words?!” Pycelle’s old voice trembled as did the heavy skin around his neck.

Ser Gerold, dark circles under his eyes for being awake two consecutive days in a row, slammed his hands on the great oaken table. “The king is treasonous for how he is treating his people, us included. He is completely gone, Pycelle.” He shakes his head and momentarily, Varys regrets having taken Ser Barristan away from him at such a time. The City Guard’s number was vanishing fast as rioters grew emboldened enough to drive their blades into their armor. His own Kingsguard brothers were losing their resolve.

The maestor was old and set in his ways. After decades of being strictly loyal to whoever was in power, of course Pycelle would take slight to anyone who spoke ill of his king. He must have known though the harm it was to keep Aerys on the throne.

Lord Velaryon, the Master of Ships, was the only one to take notice of Varys silently slipping in. “You’re late.”

Hightower and Pycelle stopped and turned to the eunuch who hadn’t even made it to his seat.

“Forgive me. The streets are hectic and difficult to maneuver around.” Varys took out his handkerchief and dabbed his brow.

Hearing that, Ser Gerold stares pointedly at Pycelle. “Not even the Spider can move around in the city. We need to do something about Aerys.”

Maester’s chains clinking together as Pycelle trembled, he pushes himself away from the table. “I will not hear it.”

“Grand Maester Pycelle, Hightower is right.” Lord Owen sighed now that things had quiet down. “As the Hand of the King, I don’t like the idea of ripping Aerys from the throne. The people are rioting. If we don’t do something, then all of our heads will join Aerys’.”

“You should understand self-preservation better than anyone.” Gerold folded his arms in front of his chest, sounding glad that finally someone was siding with him.

Pycelle’s sallow cheeks beam bright with indignation. He sputters, stumbling to come up with a reply but Varys’ hand on his shoulder tells him it would be best to be silent.

“It’s true, my friend. We will all die if we turn our gaze away again. The fire mages have lost another acolyte in the mass production of wildfire that Aerys ordered them to manufacture. Now some are even being targeted by civilians.” Varys managed to get the Grand Maester to sit back down. He folded his hands into his sleeves as he moves to his chair.

Qarlton Chelsted, the Master of Coin, tented his fingers in thought. “If we did manage to remove Aerys, what then? King’s Landing will still be vulnerable against Rhaegar once he finds out.”

“Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad thing. Prince Rhaegar would be a great improvement.” Varys comments with a small smile. “We’ve all been around him as he has grown into a fine young man. We know him. He’s nothing like Aerys.”

“Aerys wasn’t always like this, remember.” Pointed out Pycelle. “Once upon a time he used to be an aspirational young man much like Rhaegar until the Targaryen Madness ate away at his mind. Then we’ll wind up in the same situation we’re in now.”

“That is a great possibility.” Varys concedes. “But Rhaegar won’t be alone in ruling the Seven Kingdoms.”

“How so?”

It came as no surprise the look of confusion each member of the council had on their face when Varys brought up Rhaegar’s young wife. They had probably let whatever memory they had of her fade away. She had been an unremarkable girl, Rhaegar’s little mouse in the capital, but in Essos she was making a name for herself. All of what he told the Council might have sounded like a fable, Varys had acknowledged this when he decided to share with them the news he just received. He wasn’t sure which part was more shocking; the fact that the girl was actually alive and survived the fire, or the fact that she had successfully hatched a live dragon.

They tried to argue with him, point out faults in his story when they could. No man in that room truly trusted one another. In King’s Landing it was dangerous and foolish to trust anyone really. But the truth of the matter was that no one did find the remains of (y/n). The charred bones of her handmaiden had met them at the door along with ash and smoke. Only wildfire flames were known to disintegrate even bones, but this had been a normal fire. Where the fire had originated from was still unknown, the matter having been put aside the moment Rhaegar started the war.

Hightower stared at his roughened knuckles. “That would explain where Jaime went.” He couldn’t bring himself to use Jaime’s title of Ser. No matter what reason, Jaime should have never deserted his post. He saws a part of the Kingsguard and it was his duty to attend to the king, not his younger sister. Ser Gerold couldn’t forgive him.

“He must have felt it his duty as elder sibling to get her out of here.” Darkly mused Lord Lucerys. Everyone could see the cogs in his head moving. Being Master of Ships as well as Master of Driftmark, he had a vast knowledge of seafare and seemed to know any ship that has sailed through the waters of the Stepstones. He didn’t like the idea of a traitor having traveled on his seas.

Varys was cautious of how he proceeded. Lord Lucerys was a stout supporter of Aerys as was Grand Maester Pycelle, but even they had to open their eyes and realize the harm he was doing.

And the news of a newborn dragon was certainly something to baffle at.

“You’re proposing a coup, Lord Varys.” The Lord of the Stepstones seemed to be warning him but the fight was slowly draining from the man. He had fought hard to rally support for Aerys but even with all his efforts, Lucerys could see the harm Aerys was doing to everyone.

Everyone else felt the same conflicting emotions. If they dared to consider it, they would all be labeled as traitors against Aerys. At that point, they might very well be praised by the commoners for deposing the Mad King.

Hightower was the first to speak, wanting to only go to bed and sleep for a thousand years. “What do you require of us, Lord Varys?”

The air in the king’s chambers was stifled and clouted with his sickness that impacted his mind. Not even the curtain of his windows were open to relieve some of the stuffiness. Anything that could produce a sliver of light was doused with gloom. Aerys felt safe in the dark. No one could find him. No one could harm him. There could be no deceit if he submerged himself in the warm embrace of darkness. It was the one place where his loud thoughts seemed to soften and grow quiet. They seemed to be the only voices he ever listened to now. Not even the screams that occasionally floated up to his tall tower of the Keep could penetrate through to him. The suffering of his people meant little to someone who was mentally suffering.

“You’re no longer a man.” A voice from so long ago whispers. It warms his skin and makes Aerys search wildly for the source. He hadn’t heard that voice for so long. His sweet Joanna. Her glowing silhouette was sitting at a desk, small hands placed prettily in her lap. Joanna hadn’t aged one bit. The freshness of youth evident in her rosy cheeks. She was frowning at him though. Green eyes cold and staring at him. “Joanna!” Aerys grasped and was nearly groveling at her feet. “Is it really you? But. . .” Hadn’t she died? He couldn’t remember. His memory had holes in it. Scattered into the wind and impossible to catch with his bare hands.

“You’ve lost it, Aerys.” Joanna’s flat tone strikes him deep. Palms and knees pressed against the ground, his nails scrap against the chair leg near her dress skirts. He attempted to grab at the material but nothing substantial met his hand.

“And now you will lose the throne.”

He twisted his head and in the corner was more like a ghostly visage to him. Rhaella stood tall and regal, her head held high in defiance to him.

She takes slow, concentrated steps toward Aerys. Fearful of the specter, he backs away; bumping into the chair that had Joanna as an occupant. He turns to beg Joanna for help. No matter how hard he tried to cling to her,there was nothing physical that met his desperate embraces. Why was she not helping? Was it because she was Rhaella’s lady-in-waiting? Joanna had always been so sweet. That look on her face didn’t suit her. It terrified Aerys.

Not even aware of his words, Aerys blurted out “I didn’t kill your daughter!! I didn’t kill her!”

A chill gripped his throat, Rhaella’s hands.

“JOANNA! Joanna please help me!!”

Frantic knocking at the door shatters their images. Aerys is left breathing heavily on the floor.

“Your Grace? Are you alright?”

They hadn’t been real. His clawed hand runs over his thinning silver hair. Sharp nails leave superficial cuts along his exposed scalp but he had grown accustomed to small cuts all over his body. Rhaella’s hands might have been on him, but it was Joanna’s expression that left a haunted feeling upon him.

She had looked at him like that before. When she was still alive. He had a vague memory of it before he had his fallout with Tywin. Tensions had risen when it was revealed that Tywin would be marrying his cousin Joanna Lannister. How many times had Aerys told Tywin how in love he was with her? Tywin purposefully betrayed him. It was true that at the time he was married to Rhaella, not that he particularly enjoyed the union with his sullen sister. Perhaps his life would have been different if he had taken the leap to marry Joanna first.

His guards outside kept pestering him, wondering if he was okay. Aerys screams at the door for all of them to go away. He couldn't trust anyone. Not even his own guards. Selmy had abandoned him as had Jaime Lannister, not that Aerys put much trust into Tywin's son to begin with. The main factor for letting him join his guards was simply to take Tywin's one heir away. He wanted to put the man under as much humiliation as possible. That was why he married Rhaegar to Tywin's least favorite daughter. That dull little thing that was always a pitiful sight as she stood next to the luxurious Rhaegar Targaryen.

Her name was lost to him. It didn't matter anyway. She was dead. Aerys heard the whispers that came from his servants; they thought that he played a hand in the girl's demise. If only that were true. Aerys couldn't take the credit for her death. From what investigators of the matter told him, they could only come up with the conclusion that it was a freak accident.

She was of no consequence to him now.

Taglist:

@boywivlove

@esposadomd

@domoron

@yentroucnagol

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

@bregarc

[ilynpilled]

Bran

He was clinging to a tower miles high, and his fingers were slipping, nails scrabbling at the stone, his legs dragging him down, stupid useless dead legs. "Help me!" he cried. A golden man appeared in the sky above him and pulled him up. "The things I do for love," he murmured softly as he tossed him out kicking into empty air.

He thought of the golden man and the three-eyed crow, remembered the crunch of bones between his jaws and the coppery taste of blood. "I don't have dreams. Maester Luwin gives me sleeping draughts."

"Is that what scares you, the falling?" The falling, Bran thought, and the golden man, the queen's brother, he scares me too, but mostly the falling. He did not say it, though. How could he? He had not been able to tell Ser Rodrik or Maester Luwin, and he could not tell the Reeds either. If he didn't talk about it, maybe he would forget. He had never wanted to remember. It might not even be a true remembering. "Do you fall every night, Bran?"

Jaime

Jaime curled up beneath his cloak, hoping to dream of Cersei. But when he closed his eyes, it was Aerys Targaryen he saw, pacing alone in his throne room, picking at his scabbed and bleeding hands. The fool was always cutting himself on the blades and barbs of the Iron Throne.

In his dreams the dead came burning, gowned in swirling green flames. Jaime danced around them with a golden sword, but for every one he struck down two more arose to take his place.

Jaime saw green flames reaching up into the sky higher than the tallest towers, as burning men screamed in the streets. I have dreamed this dream before. It was almost funny, but there was no one to share the joke.

Bran

He was so skinny, just skin stretched taut over bones. Had he always been so thin? He tried to remember. A face swam up at him out of the grey mist, shining with light, golden. "The things I do for love, " it said. Bran screamed. The crow took to the air, cawing. Not that, it shrieked at him. Forget that, you do not need it now, put it aside, put it away. It landed on Bran's shoulder, and pecked at him, and the shining golden face was gone.

Jaime

"You don't feel your wounds then, or the ache in your back from the weight of the armor, or the sweat running down into your eyes. You stop feeling, you stop thinking, you stop being you,"

"the steel of his breastplate turned cherry-red before the end, and his gold melted off his spurs and dripped down into the fire. I stood at the foot of the Iron Throne in my white armor and white cloak, filling my head with thoughts of Cersei"

"let them have the meat, and you go far away."

Yet he heard himself whisper, "Let them do it, and go away inside."

"The world is full of horrors, Tommen. You can fight them, or laugh at them, or look without seeing... go away inside."

Jaime lost himself in her flesh. […] The pale marble was smeared with blood. Jaime wiped it clean with his sleeve, then bent to pick up the candles he had knocked over. Fortunately they had all gone out when they fell. If the sept had caught fire I might never have noticed.

Bran

Bran was going to be a knight himself someday, one of the Kingsguard. Old Nan said they were the finest swords in all the realm. There were only seven of them, and they wore white armor and had no wives or children, but lived only to serve the king. Bran knew all the stories. Their names were like music to him.

Bran nodded, trying not to let his fear show. He had not been outside Winterfell since his fall, but he was determined to ride out as proud as any knight.

Broken, Bran thought bitterly as he clutched his knife. Is that what he was now? Bran the Broken? "I don't want to be broken," he whispered fiercely to Maester Luwin, who'd been seated to his right. "I want to be a knight."

And he would never walk, nor fly, nor be a knight.

Jaime

And me, that boy I was...when did he die, I wonder? When I donned the white cloak? When I opened Aerys's throat? That boy had wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne, but someplace along the way he had become the Smiling Knight instead.

[dyannawynnedayne]

Round Three: Which Character Parallel Is Your Favorite?

Dunk and Brienne: art by @kraehenkunst (1, 2)

Cersei and Catelyn: art by @shripscapi (1, 2)

Dunk and Brienne

The Shield

The old man’s brown had always seemed drab to Dunk. “The field should be the color of sunset,” he said suddenly. “The old man liked sunsets. And the device…”“An elm tree,” said Egg. “A big elm tree, like the one by the pool, with a brown trunk and green branches.”“Yes,” Dunk said. “That would serve. An elm tree…but with a shooting star above. Could you do that?”The girl nodded. “Give me the shield. I’ll paint it this very night and have it back to you on the morrow.”

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms: The Hedge Knight

 "Your door reminded me of an old shield I once saw in my father's armory." She described the arms as best she could recall them."[...]"You did beautifully," she said, when the woman showed her the freshly painted shield. It was more a picture than a proper coat of arms, and the sight of it took her back through the long years, to the cool dark of her father's armory. She remembered how she'd run her fingertips across the cracked and fading paint, over the green leaves of the tree, and along the path of the falling star.

AFFC, Brienne II

Cersei and Catelyn

Watched Their Sons Die

Boom, the drum sounded, boom doom boom doom. The old man’s lips went in and out. The knife trembled in Catelyn’s hand, slippery with sweat. “A son for a son, heh,” he repeated. “But that’s a grandson … and he never was much use.”A man in dark armor and a pale pink cloak spotted with blood stepped up to Robb. “Jaime Lannister sends his regards.” He thrust his longsword through her son’s heart, and twisted.Robb had broken his word, but Catelyn kept hers. She tugged hard on Aegon’s hair and sawed at his neck until the blade grated on bone. Blood ran hot over her fingers. His little bells were ringing, ringing, ringing, and the drum went boom doom boom.

ASOS, Catelyn VII

When he heard Cersei’s scream, he knew that it was over.I should leave. Now. Instead he waddled toward her.His sister sat in a puddle of wine, cradling her son’s body. Her gown was torn and stained, her face white as chalk. A thin black dog crept up beside her, sniffing at Joffrey’s corpse. “The boy is gone, Cersei,” Lord Tywin said. He put his gloved hand on his daughter’s shoulder as one of his guardsmen shooed away the dog. “Unhand him now. Let him go.” She did not hear.

ASOS, Tyrion VIII

[bellarkeselection]

Kingslayer Prisoner pt 3

Part 1

Part 2

Jaime and Y/n finish their conversation in his tent and they get closer than they thought they would

If things weren't already complicated enough with me being a Tully who just lost her family and Jaime being the Lannister that caused it. No now I was standing in front of the man trying to stop my hands from shaking before I made an attempt to close the wound. To top it all off the golden lion was shirtless in front of me and I could feel my face was hot meaning I was a blushing mess before his green eyes. “Jaime…I…I don’t know what to say. I’ve never even kissed anyone until the other night. I don’t know what I feel for you…argh seven hells!”

“But you do feel something for me though. I’m not wrong about that am I Y/n?” He lifted his head slightly upward meeting my blue gaze. He reached for with his real hand wrapping his fingers around the needle causing me to drop the blade onto the floor.

Jaime gently tugged me forward where I stumbled over my own boots straight onto his lap. “Jaime - Woah. Maybe I do but I don’t really know what to do with something like that.” I shook my head at him with my hands resting on his shoulders so I didn’t fall of his lap, not like he would let me hit the hard dirt ground.

The golden lion slowly raises his real hand up to cradle my cheek in his palm. He leans forward closing the gap slowly but what caught me off guard was the fact that he was kissing me. “Typically this happens, Tully girl.” I gasped taken back by his forewordness. But something inside me decided to not fight against the feeling immediately yet I rather wrapped my arms around his neck kissing him back as best as I could since I wasn't sure if I was doing it right.

"Am I doing this the wrong way. I mean you're with your sister. And I was just disowned by my uncle and all...mmm." I moaned into another kiss when Jaime crashed his lips back onto mine and I couldn't fight back om how good it felt to kiss him.

Everyone in the seven kingdoms knew who this man was now. Everyone knew that he broke his vow and killed the Mad King. That he slept with his sister. To create three bastard children that everyone thought were Robert Bartheon's. "I'm not thinking about my sister. I haven’t been able to think about my sister since I got to meet you. You've consumed my every thought, Y/n Tully."

“What are we supposed to do with this then. You’re a Kingsguard and I am the abandoned niece of Brynden Tully. We can’t just go running off together like in the takes of royalty can we?” I drew back searching hus eyes for any hesitation knowing that he was probably playing with me since most didn’t trust any Lannister.

Quickly I attempted to move off of his lap yet he only tightened his arms around my waist keeping me closer to him. “We could run away, Y/n. My lord father is gone and that means that I could be in charge of his house.”

“But what about your vow to the Kingsguard for life. To take no wife, hold no lands and father no children. You’d break a vow to be with me a girl you know nothing about.” Pushing my hands against his chest I tried to put distance between us somehow.

Jaime blurted out where I stiffened my back while he spoke. "I've already broken so many vows. I don’t care what people say of me anymore. Not if it gives me the chance to spend my life with you. So what do you say, will you become Lady Lannister. Will you be with me?"

Staring at the lion holding me close to him my heart was beating against my chest. I was always confident compared to most young girls who would see his handsome face. “Yes…yes Jaime. If you wish to run from your sister. I will run with you.” I mumbled out blushing longingly at him moving my hands to rest on his shoulders to steady myself.

“Can I kiss you now cause I’m not good with words for long.” He asked me moving his real hand back up to cradle my face in his palm.

“You may.” I nodded simply with a childish smile.

Without much of a warning Jaime Lannister crashed his lips onto mine deeply and I fling my arms around his neck kissing him back. Our bodies were pressed together as much as we possibly could. He had his golden hand on my lower back with his other running through my auburn hair until we needed air. “I would have never become a Kingsguard if I knew I would get to marry you, Y/n.” He declares through a raspy voice focusing his bright green eyes on me.

Once I had caught my breath I moved my hands underneath my tunic shirt removing it and my trousers before I pressed my lions back onto his. The Lion immediately kissed back where he picked me up never breaking the kiss. He walked towards the bed and dropped me down to the bed. My back hit the soft silk sheets before I rose up from the bed staring at him softly. “I don’t know what to do. My sisters each had different opinions of how this is supposed to feel…”

“And how did they describe it, hmm?” He brought my fingers to his lips, kissing them softly for a moment before releasing them.

“Cat said that it will hurt at first but then after that you will learn to enjoy it. And Lysa says that it's like someone is trying to break you. I’m not really sure which one of them I should believe.” I wrapped my arms around myself watching him when he climbed off the bed standing before me.

Jaime shifted his gaze downward over my entire body. Moving my fingers down I searched for something to grab onto so I was used to being able to calm myself down by archery practice or with a sword. But right now I didn’t have much of a choice. “If you want to know what this will be like I’ll tell you this. It’s uncomfortable and they’re will be pain like you’ve taken a hit from a sword. But I’ll do my best to make it enjoyable for you.”

“I trust you, Jaime. I owe you my life and my heart after all.” I grinned up at the golden lion wrapping my hands around his neck drawing him in for another kiss before our bodies became one. Both of us moaning and kissing like crazy until we reached our end point. Jaime laid down beside me when we got underneath the covers holding each other. “I guess it wasn’t so bad I became your prisoner.”

He kissed the crown of my head squeezing me against his warm chest smiling down at me seeing my eyes slowly close and we both drifted off to sleep for the night. “I’d take you prisoner again if it means I get to call you mine.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️ Tag list - @makeshift-prime @rosie-posie08 @lover-of-books-and-tea

[writingsofwesteros]

Another man's doe:

Sorry for spamminc these Ily

The sun had just dipped below the horizon as Jaime Lannister finally arrived back in King's Landing, his weary body sagging with the weight of exhaustion, both physical and emotional. The journey had been long and grueling, but the hardest part awaited him within the walls of the Red Keep. As he trudged through the familiar corridors, memories of his past haunted every step.

He reached Cersei's chambers, his heart heavy with a mix of longing and dread. When the door opened, Cersei was there, regal and cold as ever, her eyes narrowing as they fell upon him. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them thicker than the air in the room.

"You're too late," Cersei said, her voice sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. "Do you have any idea what I've had to endure without you? While you were off playing the hero, I was here, holding our family together, facing threats you can’t even begin to imagine. I was here all alone!"

Jaime flinched at her words, but he did not respond, his mind too clouded by the agony of the past few months. She didn’t care that he had been tortured, mutilated, and nearly broken beyond repair. All that mattered to her was that he hadn’t been there, by her side, to feed her illusions of their unbreakable bond. To feed her Illusion of power.

"And now," Cersei continued, her voice laced with venom, "you come back to this? To find our father has taken the place you so easily abandoned? He was the one who protected our legacy, who cared for everything you threw away."

Jaime leaves The chamber, cold, bitter and alone. Before he could muster the strength to defend himself Even in his own mind, to explain what he had been through, his feet lead him to a familiar chamber. Chamber that used to Be his too. Opening The door without thinking. Taking the risk of his fathers presence there. His everlasting presence. But only Stevonna stood there, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and emotion. It sinks to his heart, she was no longer just his wife; she had become his father's lover so long ago, and yet, in this moment, none of that seemed to matter.

"Jaime," she breathed out, relief flooding her voice as she crossed the room in a few hurried steps. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t care about the filth and blood that clung to his clothes. She simply pulled him into her arms, holding him as if she were afraid he might disappear again. The strange bond they still shared there. They might have had their issues but she cared. Gods she did.

"Their" youngest, a small toddler with Tywin's eyes and her gentle features, toddled into the room after her, but Stevonna’s focus was entirely on Jaime. She held him tight, her fingers threading through his matted hair, and whispered his name again, "Jaime. By the gods"

It was all too much for Jaime. The walls he had built up, the stoic mask he had worn for so long, crumbled as he buried his face in her shoulder. He broke down in her arms, his body shaking with sobs that he had kept at bay for what felt like a lifetime. The pain, the regret, the loss—it all came pouring out as Stevonna held him, unbothered by the filth that stained her gown, her own tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

"shhh, shh" she soothes "let it out, let it all out" she encourages knowing he would not get the chance to cry often. The chance or the walls down enough to do so.

"I'm sorry Stev, I'm so sorry" he sobs. "I'm sorry of how I abandoned you and our son" he pours out. Stev's eyes widening as she tightens her hold. Looking down as her toddler comes to hug jaimes leg too. His half Brother. Not his son. Not by blood yet by law.The son they had was already almost a man grown. Old enough to remember The pain of his abandonment.

"let us not dwell now. Not until you are healed" she mutters. "Sylas was worried for you also"

And Even If it was not romantic. Nor healthy. In that moment Jaime realized that this was probably what being loved was supposed to feel like

THEY BREAK MY HEART

[burnnouts]

@poweresides said "❝ noble words, but words are easy. deeds are hard. ❞ ( for robb from jaime )

Much had changed since this war had begun, and Robb was not the same man he'd been when he'd last held Jaime Lannister in chains. That was before his mother had released him. Before Robb had married and broken his oath. Before he'd returned to the Freys for his uncle's wedding. Before Robb had died.

As Roose Bolton had thrust a sword though his chest, the very last words Robb remembered hearing were: Jaime Lannister sends his regards. In the days since--when he'd woken up in a river, his body cold as ice, resurrected from the dark magic of the Brotherhood--those words played again and again in his mind, a sort of mantra that kept him moving, kept him alive. He was going to find the man and finish what he'd started. "This deed will be easy," he said, his hand on his sword. "You wanted a fight, one on one. Now, here's your chance, Kingslayer." How fitting a name. Jaime Lannister might not have held the blade that took Robb's life, but as far as Robb knew, he'd ordered it--and so he was another king to add to his ledger.

[thenexusofsouls]

what song do you associate with each muse?

{i am the caretaker of souls} This took me forever to put together, but I finally finished it, haha. These are all songs that I've come to associate with my muses, and in some cases, I've had that association for as long as 15-20 years.

Some are from the games or movies in which the characters appeared, so I associate them for that reason. Others were part of the media that inspired me to create/write them. Still others have lyrics that remind me of certain aspects of the characters' personality, specific scenes that were iconic to them, or they just have the right personality vibe for that muse. Some of the videos for these songs have the right visuals and aesthetics for the characters too.

If anyone want a more detailed explanation on why I associate a specific song with a particular muse, feel free to ask! Happy listening! =)

Tony Stark - Iron Man by Black Sabbath

Stephen Strange - Listen To The Magic Man by Celine Dion

Natasha Romanoff - I Am Criminal by Eric Serra (feat. Mitivaï Serra) from the Anna OST

Clint Barton - Running Up That Hill by Placebo (Cover of Kate Bush)

Michael - Broken Wings by Mr. Mister

Gizmo - Gizmo's Song from the Gremlins OST

Trinket - Drive Away from Lemony Snicket's A Series Of Unfortunate Events OST

“Priest”/Ivan Pace - The Preacher by Jaime N. Commons

“Priestess”/Esther Sun - Dear God by Lawless (feat. Syndey Wayser)

Carl “Luke” Lucas - Daze by Poets of the Fall

Marie Sebastian - Main Theme by Roque Banos from the Old Boy (2013) OST

Martha Reynolds - Marcy's Song by John Hawkes from the Martha Marcy May Marlene OST

Ben Leonard - Here Comes The Sun Cover by Yuna from the Savages OST

Raiden - The War Still Rages Within from the Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance OST

Leeloo - Little Light of Love from The Fifth Element OST

Freya - Castle by Halsey from The Huntsman: Winter's War OST

Eric - Breath of Life by Florence + The Machine from the Snow White & The Huntsman OST

Nuada Bethmoora - Mordred's Lullaby by Heather Dale

Wade - I Will Remain by The Veer Union

Jared Nomak - I Against I by Mod Def from the Blade II OST

Aryx - Already Over Pt. 2 by Red

Aurelien - Between Heaven & Hell by Rob Saffi, the Paranormal Lockdown Opening Theme

Veridian - Main Theme from the Parasite Eve OST

Ethan Cavender - Palmdale by Tomandandy from The Apparition OST

Jix - Icarus by Mythos

Channe - Gunboat by Vixtrola from the Darkness Falls OST

Strychthia - Wind by Brian Crain (feat. Rita Chepurchenko)

[crownofstardustandbone]

Are you working on any fics right now or do you have any ideas you're thinking about starting?

Hey anon, thank you for the ask!! I am currently working on some fics!

Razorblade Without a Handle (stuckony) E-Rated, unpublished

This is a no powers AU taking place in present day New York City. Steve and Tony are in a pre-existing relationship and have been together for 20+ years. Steve is 45 and Tony is 55, so they are some sexy silver foxes when they run into (literally) Bucky. In a "meet ugly" Steve and Tony hit Bucky with their car, and soon after their lives and their hearts become entangled. Bucky is a 22 year old high school dropout working multiple jobs to pay rent on his shitty little apartment and put his sister Bex through college, and he has no idea why a billionaire CEO and his world renown artist/activist husband are interested in him, but he's selfish enough to hang onto what they have for as long as he can.

Lots of trigger warnings for this, but I'm really excited to post it when it's ready!

I'm Bitter Like Whiskey (You're Sweet Like Wine) (Jaime x Sansa) rating undetermined, unpublished

Post Season 8, Jaime lives and stays at Winterfell to serve the Queen in the North, Sansa Stark. Jaime wanders the halls and walls of Winterfell each night, the screams of the King's Landing populace ringing in his ears, the scent of burning flesh invading his sense. He cannot sleep and so he wanders--until one night he finds the Queen in the library, also seemingly unable to sleep. When she shares her desire to protect herself, to prevent anyone from harming her ever again, Jaime offers to train her in hand to hand and bladed combat. Sparks fly, and two broken people find a way to heal together.

Midnight in New York (Natasha x Rhodey) e-rated, unpublished

In this follow up to the Letters from the Void Redux, we explore the relationship between Nat and Rhodey over the same five years that LFTVR tracks for Steve and Tony. After Tony's return and the split between the Avengers deepens, Nat takes on the responsibility for protecting the citizens of NYC from the increasing chaos caused by Thanos's snap. She works at it alone until Rhodey returns and refuses to leave, their shared sorrow and grief bringing them together in a bond that will persist through space, time and death.

Those are the big three I'm currently working on, and as usual I have lots of thoughts about other ships and fics in my drafts, but with working full time, grad school and an internship, I have to focus on the stories that inspire me the most and make what progress I can!

[virtuousouls]

closed for @hxlcycnx | tyrion lannister

there were two emotions that brewed inside of catelyn when she unexpectedly came across the imp on the park path. hatred and rage. hate was not an unknown emotion to catelyn. she felt it for jon snow, even if it was not justified - and if she could feel it for an innocent motherless boy, then it was easy to hate every person with the last name lannister. the rage stemmed from that hatred, as well as being mad at her own stupid decision to let jaime lannister go. in her last desperation, she had betrayed her son to let him go. to return her daughters. but he had broken his oath and betrayed her. the lannisters send their regards. in the end, had she been the one to bring about the downfall of both her houses? she had only acted on a mother's instinct. to reunite with her remaining children. but it had cost her her eldest son. "i should have thrown you out of the moon door myself," catelyn spat with spite as she approached tyrion. her decision to capture the imp and take him to the eyrie caused ned to be attacked in the street by the elder lannister son. but she had believed her sister's letter and tyrion's blade had tried to slit her son's throat. "and brought the knife down on your brother's throat instead of his ropes."

[itspronouncedjulia]

Here's a preview of chapter 12:

“Honningbrew is certainly the best,” a wobbly voice interjected. Rhaenyra’s nose crinkled as the pungent odor of urine filled her nostrils. She picked her head up to see the man in the soil tunic shuffling toward them. “One of my favorites to be sure!” Jaime cringed as she turned to look up at the clearly drunk Nord. 

“Embry,” Jaime said hesitantly, shooting Rhaenyra an apologetic look. 

“Jaime…I see you have a fine bottle of mead there, got any to spare for an old friend?” Embry swayed and let out a loud hiccup as he stuck his mug out. Rhaenyra scowled, annoyance immediately coursing through her at such a brazen request. 

“Oh, uh…” Jaime trailed off and glanced over at their bottle of mead, it was still half full. Rhaenyra could see how torn the younger woman looked. After a second, Jaime’s goodwill started to win out and she started to reach for the bottle.

Rhaenyra scoffed and turned to Embry, “Get your own bottle.” Jaime froze at Rhaenyra’s brash tone. Embry was slower to react, his hazy alcohol-laden mind not immediately understanding.

When he did he frowned and turned to Rhaenyra, “Huh?”

“I said get your own bottle,” Rhaenyra said strictly. “This one is for us to enjoy.”

“Aw c'mon, you got half a bottle left!” Embry protested. “You won’t miss a few measly drops would you?” 

“Embry I think you better leave us alone,” Jaime said, almost shyly. Her sheepish tone frustrated Rhaenyra. She didn’t know why Jaime was standing for such rude behavior from a piss-covered drunkard. 

“Come on Jaime, since when did you become so stingy?!” 

“Embry, that’s enough,” Orgnar called from behind the bar. “Leave the two of them be and stop begging.”

“I’m not begging, I’m just asking a friend for something to drink.” He turned back to Jaime and leaned in closer. Jaime’s face openly twisted in disgust as she leaned back, trying to escape the smell of his stale breath. 

Rhaenyra reached her limit, her anger surging forward as Embry refused to leave. Rhaenyra slammed her hand on the table, causing the bowls and the mugs to shake. Silence immediately fell over the hall as everyone turned and watched the confrontation. It was Rhaenyra who broke the silence;

“Leave us!” She demanded, her voice filled with royal authority. Embry seemed to balk at her command and muttered something before stumbling back to his chair. Rhaenyra glared at him, watching him until he plopped back down in his seat, a dejected look written across his face. 

After a moment the bard began to strum his lute again and everyone else turned back to their food and drink. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t knock his head off his shoulders,” Rhaenyra said hotly as she turned back to her stew. “He was so disrespectful!”

[west1rosi]

@fatedtruths asked: Love doesn’t matter, duty does. --- from loras to jaime

A   foolish   mistake.   Still   too   young,   Jaime   thinks,   despite   seeing   nothing   but   a   young   self   in   the   Tyrell   knight.   A   long   time   ago   he   had   thought   the   same,   duty   above   all.   "Duty   demanded   I   allowed   King   Aerys   to   burn   King's   Landing   and   it's   people   to   the   ground."   The   now   known   Kingslayer   speaks,   golden   hand   hilted   at   his   waist   as   he   recalls   the   moment   he   drew   his   sword   through   the   old   king's   back   and   ended   his   life.   The   echoes   of   his   voice   still   in   his   nightmares   (   the   king   never   stopped   repeating   the   same   words,   to   burn   them   all   ).  

"You   made   an   oath   and   you   follow   through   it   but   you   cannot   base   your   life   around   it,   ser.   You   might   allow   a   monster   into   the   world   if   you   do."   Blood   from   his   sword,   he   had   sat   down   in   that   big   iron   throne   and   realized,   through   cuts   and   all,   it   was   just   a   chair.   His   duty   stopped   being   to   the   king   then,   but   was   to   his   family.   And   protect   them   above   all.   "Let   me   pose   this   question   then.   If   your   King   demands   the   death   of   your   entire   family,   that's   duty.   Would   you   sharpen   and   draw   the   blade   itself   and   do   your   duty.   Over   love   of   your   family?"   Jaime   already   knows   his   own   answer,   a   lion   is   a   lion   and   he   will   protect   his   cubs   and   his   name,   oaths   be   damned.   Those   could   be   broken   with   such   ease   anyway.

[dyannawynnedayne]

Which character parallel do you like the best?

Cersei and Catelyn: art by @shripscapi (1, 2)

Brienne and Asha: art by @amuelia (1, 2)

Propaganda is encouraged!

Cersei and Catelyn

Watched Their Sons Die

Boom, the drum sounded, boom doom boom doom. The old man’s lips went in and out. The knife trembled in Catelyn’s hand, slippery with sweat. “A son for a son, heh,” he repeated. “But that’s a grandson … and he never was much use.” A man in dark armor and a pale pink cloak spotted with blood stepped up to Robb. “Jaime Lannister sends his regards.” He thrust his longsword through her son’s heart, and twisted. Robb had broken his word, but Catelyn kept hers. She tugged hard on Aegon’s hair and sawed at his neck until the blade grated on bone. Blood ran hot over her fingers. His little bells were ringing, ringing, ringing, and the drum went boom doom boom.

ASOS, Catelyn VII

When he heard Cersei’s scream, he knew that it was over. I should leave. Now. Instead he waddled toward her. His sister sat in a puddle of wine, cradling her son’s body. Her gown was torn and stained, her face white as chalk. A thin black dog crept up beside her, sniffing at Joffrey’s corpse. “The boy is gone, Cersei,” Lord Tywin said. He put his gloved hand on his daughter’s shoulder as one of his guardsmen shooed away the dog. “Unhand him now. Let him go.” She did not hear.

ASOS, Tyrion VIII

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Brienne and Asha

Their Father's Only Son

"No fight is hopeless till it has been fought. I have the best claim. I am the heir of Balon's body."

AFFC, The Kraken's Daughter

Jaime sat against the bole of an oak and wondered what Cersei and Tyrion were doing just now. ��Do you have any siblings, my lady?” he asked. Brienne squinted at him suspiciously. “No. I was my father’s only s—child.” Jaime chuckled. “Son, you meant to say. Does he think of you as a son? You make a queer sort of daughter, to be sure.”

ASOS, Jaime II

[greenbloods]

Runner up lines that didnt make it because of tumblr poll word length limitations. I'm including more of the peripheral scene because it's my post and i want to.

Tyrion and Jaime

The ruin was sad enough, but knowing what it had been made it even sadder. There was laughter here once, Tyrion thought. There were gardens bright with flowers and fountains sparkling golden in the sun. These steps once rang to the sound of lovers’ footsteps, and beneath that broken dome marriages beyond count were sealed with a kiss. His thoughts turned to Tysha, who had so briefly been his lady wife. It was Jaime, he thought, despairing. He was my own blood, my big strong brother. When I was small he brought me toys, barrel hoops and blocks and a carved wooden lion. He gave me my first pony and taught me how to ride him. When he said that he had bought you for me, I never doubted him. Why would I? He was Jaime, and you were just some girl who’d played a part. I had feared it from the start, from the moment you first smiled at me and let me touch your hand. My own father could not love me. Why would you if not for gold?

2. Catelyn and Robb

If Robb was frightened, he gave no sign of it. Catelyn watched her son as he moved among the men, touching one on the shoulder, sharing a jest with another, helping a third to gentle an anxious horse. His armor clinked softly when he moved. Only his head was bare. Catelyn watched a breeze stir his auburn hair, so like her own, and wondered when her son had grown so big. Fifteen, and near as tall as she was.

Let him grow taller, she asked the gods. Let him know sixteen, and twenty, and fifty. Let him grow as tall as his father, and hold his own son in his arms. Please, please, please. As she watched him, this tall young man with the new beard and the direwolf prowling at his heels, all she could see was the babe they had laid at her breast at Riverrun, so long ago.

3. Needle

Her floppy hat went next, then the gloves. They were Salty’s too. She emptied her pouch into her palm; five silver stags, nine copper stars, some pennies and halfpennies and groats. She scattered them across the water. Next her boots. They made the loudest splashes. Her dagger followed, the one she’d gotten off the archer who had begged the Hound for mercy. Her swordbelt went into the canal. Her cloak, tunic, breeches, smallclothes, all of it. All but Needle.

She stood on the end of the dock, pale and goosefleshed and shivering in the fog. In her hand, Needle seemed to whisper to her. Stick them with the pointy end, it said, and, don’t tell Sansa! Mikken’s mark was on the blade. It’s just a sword. If she needed a sword, there were a hundred under the temple. Needle was too small to be a proper sword, it was hardly more than a toy. She’d been a stupid little girl when Jon had it made for her. “It’s just a sword,” she said, aloud this time . . .

. . . but it wasn’t.

Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile. He used to mess my hair and call me “little sister,” she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.

Polliver had stolen the sword from her when the Mountain’s men took her captive, but when she and the Hound walked into the inn at the crossroads, there it was. The gods wanted me to have it. Not the Seven, nor Him of Many Faces, but her father’s gods, the old gods of the north. The Many-Faced God can have the rest, she thought, but he can’t have this.

4. Jenny's song

She drank the last of the wine in four long swallows, flung the skin aside, and pointed her stick at Lord Beric. “I’ll have my payment now. I’ll have the song you promised me.”

And so Lem woke Tom Sevenstrings beneath his furs, and brought him yawning to the fireside with his woodharp in hand. “The same song as before?” he asked.

“Oh, aye. My Jenny’s song. Is there another?”

And so he sang, and the dwarf woman closed her eyes and rocked slowly back and forth, murmuring the words and crying. Thoros took Arya firmly by the hand and drew her aside. “Let her savor her song in peace,” he said. “It is all she has left.”

5. Maester Cressen and Stannis

Maester Cressen blinked. Stannis, my lord, my sad sullen boy, son I never had, you must not do this, don’t you know how I have cared for you, lived for you, loved you despite all? Yes, loved you, better than Robert even, or Renly, for you were the one unloved, the one who needed me most. Yet all he said was, “As you command, my lord, but . . . but I am hungry. Might not I have a place at your table?” At your side, I belong at your side . . .

(9) a son or a daughter.

'where's 'ned loves my hair?'' nowhere. you must choose.

[mrsemilybartrum]

What if Arya didn't actually kill the REAL Night King, like in the show? What if she killed... the real king's son? What if Bloodraven made all this happen to become King through Bran? These characters are from A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin... but I thought of this plot twist.

Arya sat in her captain’s chambers as the storm raged outside her cabin door. Even though she could still see the lightning flashes and the crashing waves from inside her quarters, the way she slammed her door was as if she were slamming the door in the tempest’s face herself. A bold crack of lightning took her back to Winterfell and Bran sitting under the wierwood tree. She shivered at the thought, as if she could still feel the cold from the Ice King.

Ever since she slayed the Night King, she’s been having the same dream. It’s not every night, but it’s frequent enough that she now draws sketches of scenes that only exist in her slumber. Once, when Arya was asked by one of her crew members why she made sketches of such monstrosities, she just shrugged and said “Maybe drawing them out while I am awake will stop me from dreaming them when I am asleep.”

Arya argued that Targaryens were infamous for visions and dreams and prophecy. After all, she killed the Night King herself with the very blade that Aegon the Conqueror had his Ice and Fire prophecy etched into. She shivered and then shivered again when the thought came to her.

What if the Night King isn’t dead, really? If Jon could be killed and resurrected, why couldn’t the Night King be resurrected? But I saw him shatter into a million and one pieces of broken ice when I stuck him with the pointy end. I killed him. I brought an end to him, not the other way around.

Arya would often overthink things. She would overthink so much that she would get herself all but convinced the real Long Night is still to come, that she needs to turn her ship around and go back to fight with – more so for – Winterfell. That Bran would need her from King’s Landing. Jon, the rightful king, would need her skills at the Wall. Yet, still, she would not turn her ships around.

Her ship was built not long after the Settlement of the Seven Kingdoms. Bran the Broken, whom she only referred to as ‘Bran, my brother’, had issued its building and even made her exploration an official order of royal decree. Arya would be required to return with 75% of her treasures and wealth to render back to the Crown Estate. She kept the remaining 25%, of course. For which she would be paying her crew, continuing her missions, maintaining her ship, and anything else she saw fit.

Suddenly, Arya realized she must’ve fallen asleep. She was no longer in her quarters on her ship. She was back in King’s Landing, the day her lord father Eddard had been beheaded by the Bastard King Joffrey.

The Bastard Kings; Joffrey and Tommen had been called that by highborn and smallfolk alike after the Settlement of the Seven. It made no matter to her. She never got to mark any of their names off her list by her own rite; Cersei allegedly died under a shower of stones and in the arms of her brotherly lover, Ser Jaime. Ser Jaime died the same way as Cersei, allegedly.

She watched this time as she saw her father’s head hit the ground. She didn’t hide her face in the Traveling Crow’s chest this time. She watched with eyes wide open. And then, she saw it.

Her father wasn’t dead anymore. He was somehow standing right next to her as his headless body lay up on the stands. Arya looked to the right of her, where her dear father stood. His head was back on his body, but you could see the marks where the sword sliced it clean off. She couldn’t speak. She just stared in awe.

Just as soon as the joy hit, the dread hit, too. ‘Am I dead, father?’ she asked Eddard.

‘No, child, you are not dead. But you have been touched. You are now connected to the same network that Bran your brother uses. You keep having the same dreams, don’t you. It’s why I am here.’ Her father answered her.

‘But why bring me to this moment, now? Father, I do not want to see this again. Please, let us go somewhere else.’ She begged him, as she hated that day worst of all. He told her to watch again, but this time, he wanted her to use her mind and thought to turn the blade into soft wool.

She didn’t know if she could do that, and she wanted to ask Father if he had tried going to Bran before he came to her. Before she could, he answered her as if he could read her mind.

"Yes, I asked Bran. He told me to ask you for him. He said to ask you myself, and if I were strong enough and wise enough to get you to do your part, he said he would gladly do his part. Now, my beloved daughter, will you do your part?" this version of her father asked her.

She agreed to do her part, but she was suspicious and didn’t really expect to get her father back. Her mother had been turned into an evil undead woman bitter from loss and love. What would the trauma turn Eddard into?

She watched again as her father was about to be executed after a set of lies promised by Joffrey the Bastard King. As Ilyn Payne’s sword came swinging down on the back of Eddard Stark’s neck, it turned into a snake.

The viper bit Payne and Joffrey both before the Hound could pull Eddard out of harm’s way and cut off the head of the snake. A viper’s bite can be cured if the person has the antidote on them. It is known that women of Dorne wear crystals of anti-venom around their necks, next to their hearts. So do the men.

But this was King’s Landing, and by the time the closest maester could appear with an antidote, both the king and the executioner were now dead. Eddard Stark was freed after Joffrey revealed his true colors. His own mother counted it a blessing since it stopped the North marching down for war.

She smiled, and she felt strong. But something felt wrong… like a part of her soul was dying inside of her. Like a part of her humanity was just traded for this costly exchange. One that couldn’t truly happen. What was that crashing noise?

Arya must’ve drifted off. She woke up, clearly shaken after having the dream of her dead father guiding her to use magic to change the fate of time. She stood up to stretch after being cramped up in that captain’s chair. She walked over to the glass wall of wonder.

She could see the shadows of sea monsters and sharks alike in the far-off depths of the water. Making part of her boat with fused glass was her favorite feature. For Arya, it was like becoming her own version of a mermaid. She could see the ocean floor while being safe.

Occasionally, she would see something that looked like a humanoid fish person swimming beneath the glass bottom of her quarters. This was the only place in the ship, save for the kitchen floor, where there was so much to see. She would remember the stories of the Deep Ones and shiver.

She stood and stretched her legs and hands, and she clasped her fingers together to cradle the back of her head in her palms. What was she doing out there, really? She had been through so much, and she had no idea what even mattered anymore.

[thelustybraavosimaid]

A crowd was quickly gathering in the courtyard, the song of blades drawing the crown prince closer. He paused before the Kingsguard to see who was at the middle of it; it was his parents. Of course it was his parents.

Aemon smiled, taking his place between Ser Arthur and Ser Jaime, watching his mother's offensive attacks closely.

Her strikes are too heavy, Aemon thought as his gaze shifted between the king and queen. Not as effective against a man who's so quick and light on his feet. Learning from and duelling with Ser Arthur over the moons taught him much and more about the art of swordplay.

The King Rhaegar Targaryen moved as if he were some fabled warrior, weaving and bobbing and dodging, blocking and striking in lightning-quick movements. Aemon could only watch in awe.

"How long have they been at it this time?" He asked Ser Arthur.

"At least an hour, maybe a bit longer," Ser Jaime cut in, watching them practice with a gaze as intense as Arthur's, though a smile graced his face when Lyanna blocked another quick strike.

"You know how your parents are, my prince," he heard the deep tones of Ser Oswell behind him. "It'll be much the same tomorrow, I have little doubt."

"It's your stance and footwork," the good king told his wife and drew Aemon from his thoughts, sounding as if he had not broken a sweat. "They make it easy for me to deflect your attacks."

The Queen Lyanna struck again, clashing sword with sword, the blow so heavy that Aemon saw sparks fly even in the harsh midday sun. "I need them to be," she huffed, her exhales blowing through the spaces of her teeth. "How else can I learn about your stances and footwork?"

The heavier the strikes, the quicker it would be to break a block, Aemon knew. A few more of those and she may brute force her way to victory—if she hadn't worn herself out before the end of it. Before he thought she'd land another one, though, she abruptly broke away and circled him like a she-wolf on the prowl.

Rhaegar's indigo eyes were darkened by the heavy shadow casted by his long eyelashes, following her every move. His lips pursed, just as Aemon's had.

"You are studying me." It was not a question. Nor had she deigned to give an answer.

Instead she laughed, a breathless but low chuckle that made his king father falter for a moment. "Swing your sword, husband mine. Swing and fight."

She stepped in and met him.

Once, twice, thrice their blades kissed, sparks flying with every hit. Lyanna's eyes were alight with elation and laughter, filled with imminent victory as Rhaegar stumbled backward. Then he regained his footing and continued their dance, matching hit for hit before he gave a final underhand swipe from the back of his blade and disarmed her, rushing in close to rest the blunted sword at her throat.

Out the corner of Aemon's eye, he saw Ser Arthur nod his approval.

"You almost had me," he huffed, a smile of satisfaction creeping across his face. His eyes were low, full of a liquid, promised heat that Aemon was sure no one was meant to see.

"Next time, I will." Her voice had that defiant tilt, her chest heaving under the heavy leather. Her dark hair spilled from the tie it was in and framed her long face in soft waves. Stepping backwards from him, she opened her arms, smile widening. "Come and claim your winnings, my king."

He laughed, tossing his sword aside before he strode to Lyanna and gathered her in his arms. He dipped her down to meet his lips with hers, burying his fingers in her hair.

Aemon made a face, electing instead to watch the crowd disperse.

"We too should let them be," Jaime snorted, turning away.

"Yes," Ser Arthur agreed, then his violet eyes rested on Aemon as he arched a brown-black brow. "I believe it is now time for your lessons, my prince."

He inwardly groaned. His bruises still haven't healed from last week's series of lessons...