#jaime out loud: i killed a king and i’ll kill you too
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underrated jaime trait is whenever he decides to weaponise his kingslayer reputation
eddard ix AGOT
jaime v ASOS
#jaime inside: i hate being associated with aerys it’s tearing me apart i see green flames when i close my eyes#jaime out loud: i killed a king and i’ll kill you too#jaime lannister#asoiaf#valyrianscrolls#a game of thrones#a storm of swords#quotes
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From the Ashes Pt.43
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, Cersei POV, Tywin POV, ooc tywin?, sometimes its hard writing for this guy, can't seem to really get into his head
Words: 3341
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 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 41 Part 42
All Cersei could do was laugh at Phiobe after the captain revealed what she learned. That (y/n), grungy and awkward as she was, now was some kind of messiah to the foolish people in Essos. Surely, a whole land couldn’t be so enchanted by this outright lie.
“Impossible.” Cersei tried to hide another chuckle with her hand and a shake of her head. “That doesn’t sound like (y/n). Not in the least bit.”
Her fear of (y/n)’s survival had been confirmed a long time ago, but this news had to be a complete fabrication. Even if her sister was alive, the champion of a religion could not be her.
A mirth filled smile tugs up her lips. “And you said she hatched a dragon?”
They were back on the ship, at sea once again and already miles away from the Port of Lys. Up on the deck, the men were enjoying a special treat from their generous captain: spirits and wine. Enough to liven their soul until they reach Yi Ti. The journey would be hard, Phiobe warned everyone in advance. There would be rival pirate ships and naval forces to be wary of. Opportunities for plenty of deaths and injuries.
Phiobe’s door to her quarters is open so they were able to hear the stream of loud merriment from above. She smiled while listening to them and nodded in affirmation. “Oh yes. I thought that was quite incredulous too. There were many people present on that day though and witnessed the whole thing.” Handing Cersei a refilled glass of wine, Phiobe continues. “Even visiting Westerosi tradespeople. Though many of the docks in King’s Landing are shut off due to the war, this information has managed to make its way through White Harbor and Old Town..”
“It can’t be real. Do you believe any of this?” she asked incredulously while hastily consuming her drink. Even back at Casterly Rock, Cersei had never had so much wine and she was starting to grow a great liking to it.
“There have been crazier things that I have heard. Some proving to be true, others clear hoaxes. I won’t believe anything until I see it for myself. Alas, we will pass by Volantis on our way to Yi Ti.” Taking a sip from her glass, Phiboe sets it aside. “Do you think her prince husband is aware that she still lives?”
Cersei prickles at the mention of Rhaegar Targaryen. Their last conversation together still made her ears warm with fury when she played it over in her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think he would necessarily care. During their marriage, he had been in love with another woman.(y/n) doesn’t matter much in Westeros anyway. Going through a civil war where no one is sure who will come out victorious, they will just think it a rumor.”
“Ah.”
“What?”
“You jealous little creature.”
Indignation flares across her cheeks as she lets her calm composure shatter. “You-”
Waving her off, Phiobe is still chuckling. “Relax. I suggest you take another sip of your drink. Cersei, I like you. You’ve got an adorable temper and a tongue like a whip. Don’t tell me you’re willing to get yourself killed because you’re jealous of your little sister.”
“And who says I’m going to die?” She digs her nails painfully into her palm, rage pinpoint on Phiobe.
“Dragons and Azor Ahai aside, the truth in the rumor is that she’s alive. You’ve previously tried to kill her, yes? I’ll take that look as yes. The moment I saw you walk away from your uncle, not batting an eyelash as he was killed, I knew you were cold. But you look too polished to be capable of murdering someone with your own hands. No, you with your mountain of gold could easily hire an assassin. Someone’s protecting her. Whether that actually be the soldiers of the Red Temple or someone she hired, your assassin has failed. If she finds out it was your doing. . .” Phiobe heaves a weary sigh. “I won’t protect you or be held accountable for anything.”
Draining what little remained in her cup, Cersei bitterly shakes her head. “(y/n)? No. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t dare hurt me.”
Phiobe heaves out a dry scoff. “Presumptuous of you. Why do you think that?”
She was too important to Jaime. Whatever spell (y/n) had Jaime under, it was no match for the love that Jaime and Cersei had for one another. There was no way he would let harm befall on her. How could she explain that to the captain?
Instead she safely proceeds with “It’s simply foolish to think that (y/n) is capable of such malice. She is not like me. She doesn’t have a spine.”
“I hope you’re right.” Knocking back whatever was left in her own drink, Phiobe stands and walks away from the table.
“Where are you going?”
“I have a few things to take care of. Help yourself to the rest of the bottle. Dinner will be brought up in a few hours.” Phiobe waves goodbye before closing the door and securing it with a lock and key.
As she turns, Ferid stands at attention right in front of her. Respectfully, he nods his tattooed head. The Unsullied fighter had been money well spent. Phiobe had made sure to compensate him appropriately. He could go free if he made up the money she spent on him.
However, even when Ferid had reached the monetary goal, he sadly refused to leave the ship. Fighting and blood had been the only things he had ever known. What would he do with his life? He couldn’t have children, so no woman would want him. Having little knowledge of social protocol besides listening and obeying, he doubted he could immerse himself back into society. He was too broken.
A sad tale Phiobe had heard far too many times. Many of the men on her ship, nearly half of them having been bought, chose to stay despite having the money to leave. Unfortunately it was a feeling Phiobe shared with them. If she ever wanted to quit pirating, what would she do with her life? Live out her days like her mother? That wasn’t the type of life she wanted. Lady Analu possessed a docile temperament; the life she had now was perfect for her. Overly quiet and carefree. Her business was thriving in one of the most beautiful countries. She wanted nothing else in life.
“Captain, may I have a word?”
“Of course. Let's go up top. No doubt Lady Cersei is eavesdropping.” She muses and leads the way back up the solid wood stairs and to the shining sun that glittered across the ocean. “What is it?” Ferid paused, worry heavy in his dark eyes. “Captain. . . Why are you wasting your time with her? You should have just sold her off to Lady Analu or anyone else who was willing to take her off your hands. You are doing Prince Heiu Hoai a disservice by giving him this girl.”
“You don’t know Heiu Hoai like I do, Ferid. Don’t worry, she won’t be our problem for much longer. Besides, like I’ve told you, I find her entertaining. I think maybe she is who I would have been had I grown up in the lap of luxury. If she wants to waste her life trying to kill her sister, its no business of mine. As long as I still get some use out of her.”
“I think she’s perfect for one of the many princes of Yi Ti. Heiu Hoai will be able to match that brat with his own ego.” Dardan chuckles, interrupting their private conversation though Ferid didn’t mind. The big man often budged his way into conversation to offer commentary.
Sighing, Ferid concedes; his worry of the matter diminishing as it seemed he was the only one who was concerned. It was well known that Prince Heiu Hoai had a harem comprised of many different types of ladies.
“Rest assured, dear Ferid, once we get to Yi Ti she’ll be out of our hair and we’ll be in the prince’s favor still!” Phiobe clapped him on the shoulder and managed to pull a small smirk from Ferid. “Remember five years back when we were last back at the palace?”
A pleasant memory for the entire crew. Plenty of food and spirits to gorge yourself silly on. Pleasure produced from the local pillow house was icing on the cake. They were always treated well when in Yi Ti. For the prince, Phiobe produced only the best goods from her various pillages. He always, in return, shared his wealth with all of them. Normally Phiobe wasn’t one for relaxation. She was always on edge and ready for a confrontation. In Yi Ti and staying at Heiu Hoai’s palace, Phiobe was able to truly relax. From there, Cersei could do whatever she wanted. Make her way back to Volantis if she so wished to go through with her plan.
Dardan cleared his throat. “As for the matter of the rumor you heard at Lady Analu’s. . .”
“Ah yes, what have the other sailors heard?”
“Gasif confirms hearing it in the nearby tavern. As does Qateel.” Confirmed her quartermaster.
Phiobe knew the whole story sounded crazy. But it was coming from three different sources. Possibly many more.
“The dragon part doesn’t sound too farfetched.” Admitted Fedir. It was known that there were still dragons roaming in the Shadowlands. Beyond the territory of the city of Asshai.
“Yes but the fact that the Red Temple has an interest in her. . . That’s not something to be ignored.” A fantastical tale, yet Phiobe had to admit that she herself was starting to think it might be true. “It doesn't matter. I’m not getting us involved. If Cersei wants to attack their prophet, so be it.”
Fedir’s shoulders appear to sag in relief to hear that. His captain hadn’t completely gone mad. The royal brat would be gone soon enough. He just had to be patient and ignore her as much as he could. Those calculating eyes of hers though. . . They tended to unnerve him. Chilling, much like Phiobe’s. Maybe in another life, where Phiobe was the one with blue blood and Cersei a lowlife in society, Cersei had the possibility of being pirate captain. In her contained brutality that would rise her in the ranks had she the proper skill and training. Phiobe had started at a young age. Wanting to protect her mother from rape that so frequented the poor and slaves, Phiobe decided to learn how to use a sword. Initially her plan had been to protect her mother. From there she prospered into a true killer.
If the girl ever wanted to become like Phiobe, she still had a long way to go. A path he would suggest to no one.
Still, there was a long way to Yi Ti. While Phiobe wished to get there as soon as possible, it would be nearly impossible to not stop for supplies unless she wanted a few of her men to die. Eventually they would have to stop. Ghiscar preferably. Phiobe wanted to be sensitive toward Fedir and not stop in Astapor even though she had good connections there. He didn’t have the fondest memories.
She would never allow Cersei to escape though she saw the determination in the girl’s eyes. If she planned on escaping from Phiobe, she would have to kill the captain. That was no easy feat.
“Please. . .” Her breathing is labored as she begged her husband. “Please don’t let her die. Tywin, she can’t die.”
That moment had always plagued Tywin Lannister.
Her flushed cheeks streaked in tears, pleading green eyes that drowned behind saline.
What had she expected him to do at that moment? He was but a mortal lord and did not have the power to resurrect the dead. Tywin, always weak to his wife’s every whim, retrieved (y/n) from the midwife making the nursemaids scurry around him. (y/n) was a small baby. A tiny creature to have caused such a ruckus. If he hadn’t been there with Joanna, Tywin would have thought the baby to be sleeping.
He feared disappointing Joanna if he didn’t wake her to the living world.
Never one for physical affection, holding the baby had been very awkward for Tywin. Especially when he held the baby so close to his chest that his nose came to the crown of her sprucely haired head. He hadn’t even held Jaime this close when it was announced that the younger twin was a boy. An heir.
Not knowing what to do, he gently begins to rub at her small back. His mind whispered thousands of prayers in seconds as dread began to make his stomach heavy. The baby was not waking and he didn’t feel her breathing either. Joanna was going to be devastated.
That’s when, as a last ditch effort, he leans his lips down to whisper to (y/n). . .
“Your Grace?”
He doesn’t jump but Tywin is still startled when his footman announces the arrival of his sister. While he owed his sister a great debt for helping take care of the children after Joanna’s death, Genna wore out Tywin every time they were forced to interact. Now most certainly she would be filling his halls with her crying. He would miss Kevan too, but there was no point in weeping. Tywin would find whoever did this and make them pay a heavy price. Then he would be able to find Cersei. When the news of her abduction and what had happened on his ship, Tywin made sure to secretly send a letter out to Dorne. Not that much news was able to make it to King’s Landing due to Aerys closing all the gates. He could ride to Dorne himself without Aerys ever finding out. But there were matters to attend to in Casterly Rock. Ser Kevan’s remains had been unloaded from the docks and transported to Casterly Rock’s private sept. He would be buried in the tombs of Lord Tytos and his father before him. The ship had been eerily floating along Lannisport’s shores with no crew to be seen on deck.
On cue, Tywin could hear his sister’s whimpers grow louder and louder until his councilroom door was thrown open. “Oh Tywin! How horrible!”
Grimacing as she proceeded to throw her heavy arms around him, Tywin only allows her wallowing for a few seconds before clawing his way out of her grip. “Yes, very horrible- Genna please.”
“First Jaime and now Kevan and Cersei. What have we done to displease the gods so much?” There were many things Tywin could name that would put the Lannister family on the god’s bad side but he was not going to say any of them; not in the presence of his hysterical sister.
As delicately as he could, he sits his sister down and safely moves to his own chair. Having distance between them, Tywin let out a sigh and places his hands on the polished wood table. She must not know about the rumor circulating about (y/n). A fantastical story no doubt that had everything from magic swords to dragons and his daughter being in the center of it all.
“Help her, Tywin. Help her.”
Genna loudly blew her nose in her handkerchief, a large and curvy ‘G’ and ‘L’ were embroidered onto it with gold thread. Tywin would be surprised if his sister even brought up (y/n) let alone Tyrion. They were already ghosts even when they lived in Casterly Rock. Forgotten and ignored as background specters. Sad, lonely eyes-
“They still haven’t found Cersei, have they?” Genna asked abruptly as she had composed herself slightly. She’s dabbing at her eyes and sniffling as Tywin shakes his head; no, they had not found Cersei. Her body, thankfully, had not been among the dead they found on the abandoned ship. She must still be alive somewhere. “I’m sure she’s okay. She’s always been made of tougher stuff, that Cersei.”
“Always wanting to be one of the boys.” Tywin mutters but it makes his sister chuckle lightly.
She nods her head, fondly remembering when times were sweeter. When Cersei and Jaime were younger, they appeared nearly identical; both with golden hair and fair skin. They didn’t have any of the traits that distinguished their gender so Cersei found it simple to disguise herself as her twin brother. Tywin had been furious when Cersei had snuck into Jaime’s sword lessons. She could have seriously been injured. Joanna always laughed when it happened, trying her best to admonish Cersei but she found her daughter’s spunky attitude endearing.
“Gods Tywin. . .” Her face crumbled but Genna put a hand over her eyes. “Cersei has to be alive. She just has to.”
His savior came in the appearance of his footman, knowing the drill when it came to Genna, alerted him of an appointment he had in just a few minutes. Genna nods and bids goodnight to her brother. Tywin would have to better prepare himself for tomorrow when they would enter Kevan’s body to his grave.
A glass of wine was brought to him as was a small meal of lamb. He had no appetite and pushed it aside, preferring the wine as nourishment. Pale green eyes stare at the paper in front of him, Tywin’s mind unconsciously drifting to the dream he had had the night before. Joanna had visited him. Even now she was clear in his mind, a perfect picture. Rosy pink cheeks that made the rest of her pale face bloom. Her gold curls coiled and braided in such an expert fashion that Tywin always found appealing. Pearls had been strewn through her hair and adorned her seafoam green gown that spilled all around her. A vision so perfect Tywin thought that he might have died in his sleep.
Her smile didn’t mirror his own. It was soft and standoffish.
“My dear, it’s time to acknowledge her.” Joanna whispered, not unkindly. Her hands feel warm as they cup Tywin’s cheeks, brushing her thumbs across his sideburns. “You can’t continue to ignore her. She needs your help. Please my dear. The Great War is coming and she needs your support.”
She might have sounded delusional to anyone else but Tywin. Many years ago, when she was heavily pregnant with (y/n), Joanna had mentioned something a dreadful event she had dreamed about. Describing two warriors among ashes. One of them, long blonde hair peeking out from a dragon-shaped helmet, had looked at her with green eyes. Joanna believed it to be (y/n). That was the last time she had ever spoken of the dream, but Tywin could tell that it bothered her. Even after (y/n)’s birth, Joanna still seemed troubled about (y/n)’s life. When (y/n) had been found in the lion’s den, all that blood made her faint with the belief that her daughter was dead.
In their marriage, Joanna had proven to always be right. She was smart and tactful for a woman. Tywin had decided that’s where Cersei got her own analytical mind from. Whether is was a matter of state or that of a personal nature, Joanna knew the answer.
Disbelief still numbed Tywin. (y/n) and Jaime were alive.
How had (y/n) survived death so many times? It seemed unnatural.
Anxiously he runs a hand over his face. This was all preposterous. Everything was lining up though in an eerie way that followed Joanna’s nightmares.
The conference hall was dark by the time Tywin pokes his head out to instruct his guard to deliver a message to his captain of arms. His head was still whirling and he wasn’t completely sure this was the smart thing to do.
Joanna’s voice echoed firmly in his memory: “She’ll need a naval force for her homecoming.”
He would trust in his wife. Always.
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Prompt. Book canon setting. Jaime can hear Brienne's thoughts.
*spins wheel* LET'S SEE WHAT HAPPENS WITH THIS ONE and sorry for the lateness anon!!
warnings: set during asos/the road trip so expect what canon offered including the attempted rape scene
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buy me a coffee | commissions open
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He doesn't hear her until -
Until sometime after they hack the hand off.
He doesn't know when he realizes for sure because he's too fucking out of it, but when Shagwell says that stupid fucking line about the two of them being lovers while they were chained to each other on the horse and wondering who out of the two of them is the knight and the maiden, he clearly hears her saying you wouldn't know a true knight if Arthur Dayne himself vouched for them and for a moment he wonders if she's gone mad, but -
But no one does or says anything about it.
Which - they hit them more than once if they tried to speak out of turn, or at least they hit her, he was entirely beyond it, so it's fucking weird, because that kind of thing shouldn't - it's too bloody forward, and then whatever I thought of him sure as the Seven Hells he's a better one than the whole bloody lot of them, and -
He wonders, deliriously, if she swears that much all the time, and then he realizes no one actually came up to them to do anything about it.
But he heard it.
Loud and clear.
Is he going mad?
He doesn't know.
He passes out a short while later, smelling the stench of his own rotting hand, and thanking his blessing that at least the wench is fucking warm, isn't she?
--
He had thought that was the worst he could smell in his entire life.
After vomiting the damned horse piss they gave him to drink, he decides that maybe he'll reconsider it, and - for a moment he can just taste the damned vomit on his tongue and he knows it's all over him and in between that and the remains of what he drank on his tongue he feels like retching all over again, and then he realizes in utter humiliation that it's not the only thing that smells foul on him as they laugh and laugh and laugh, and then someone tells the wench that they're not going farther if he smells like his own shit, too, and he's sure he hears her saying if only I could steal a sword, but - but he has to be making that up. She can't have said it. She can't have said it -
And they do nothing as she says she'll need her hands free and she comes close to him, and he can barely look at her but then she opens her mouth as she gently brings him close to the river and tells him to drink some water from her cupped hand before she starts cleaning the vomit off his beard, and he's halfway delirious with how much he wants to retch again -
No one deserves that, he hears the wench say, and he turns to her to ask her if she's gone mad -
No one deserves that and I can't even imagine how he's -, he hears, and she has her mouth closed.
He saw that. There is no way she actually spoke. And then she motions for him to lay down on the ground and oh fuck she has to change his smallclothes doesn't she and he just wants to fucking bury himself in the ground - he knows she's done that before, he sort of felt it even if he was passed-out half of the time, but now he's awake for it and he just wants to shrink away from her as she gently undoes his trousers and lowers him into the water -
I failed my vow, he hears, but if that's how I can keep what's left of it, fine. Fine.
She -
She thinks she did what?
And that's when it hits him.
If she's not speaking but he's hearing her and he hasn't gone mad -
Is he hearing her thoughts?
And -
And he was sure she loathed him. What is she even on about when it comes to failing her fucking vow?
He wishes he could figure that out.
It hurts too much, though, and he lets himself pass out, but the fact that she's holding him up as he does somehow -
Somehow makes it less worse than the other times.
--
No, no, stop, he hears when he tries to steal that sword and what a lot of good it did to him, and - is she talking to him or them, he doesn't know, but he can't waste time with it, not when he has to try and fight his way out - except that he doesn't, and then he trips over the damned rock while the others laugh, but Brienne doesn't, and Shagwell comes close and kisses him on the damned head and he wants to retch just at the feeling and -
Can't they leave him alone, just leave him alone, he doesn't deserve it, no one deserves it, he has more guts in him than you all and how dare you even do this Lady Catelyn trusted me with his safety and I can barely do anything what are they thinking what are they thinking he doesn't he doesn't oh but I'm watching them, let them think I'm harmless but the moment I can act I will I will I will I can't fail my vows like this not for the second time not now -
Rorge kicks the sword away from him.
He lets them throw him back on the horse.
There is no way he has hallucinated her thinking about fucking Catelyn Stark.
He closes his eyes and lets himself pass out - he can't deal with this.
He can't he can't he can't -
--
"Jaime."
He's halfway sure she did speak, now. Because she's not being loud and clear. She's whispering and he's looking up at the night sky wondering why would such pretty stars look down on such as him, and then -
"Jaime, what are you doing?"
Oh.
Yes.
She is talking to him. And - calling him by his damned name? What the -
Well, no point in lying now.
"Dying," he blurts, and then -
No no no he shouldn't not for this not because of them oh no no no I can't fail him like this I can't fail my lady like this I swore I'd bring him to King's Landing and it wouldn't - no no it's not fair it's not fair I can't I can't I can't -
She sounds pretty damn panicked, he thinks, and then -
“No,” Brienne on, “no, you must live.”
“Stop telling me what do, wench. I’ll die if it pleases me," he blurts, and -
No, no, that's not - he can't, he can't die like this, and no one - he might have slayed his king but not even he deserves this, that's beyond - I can't let him give up I just can't he shouldn't he shouldn't gods what will piss him off enough to do it what would -
What is she even -
"Are you so craven?" She blurts, and -
"What else can I do, but die?" He blurts back, and he's - he's not even - he would have been angered if he hadn't known but just the fact that she knew calling him a coward would have at least made him angry is making his head spin, and -
Oh yes yes good that's better -
"Live. Live, fight and take revenge," she says, and then Rorge hears them before he can answer -
“You will hold your bloody tongue if you want to keep it, bitch,” he shouts in her face, “or do you want it around your neck like his hand?”
He starts kicking her in the stomach and she moans in pain, but -
But -
I don't care I don't care I don't care I can take it I took worse I took a lot bloody worse than this as long as he lives I don't care and at least he's kicking me and not him I can take it I can I can I can -
He -
He swallows, closing his eyes while her pained moans fill his ears.
He doesn't go to sleep that night. Not really.
--
It's just -
He tries to think about it while she goddamned changes his soiled smallclothes so he doesn't have to look at her in shame and he can hear her thinking that it's the least she could do and she'll see him through it if it kills her.
She -
She was -
She loathed him. He knew she did. It was obvious. Maybe this is just... compassion or something like that, but - but she certainly isn't letting that stop her from making this entire fucking ordeal less bad than it could be, for what it's worth, and he can't help thinking, now for all she fancies herself a knight she's keeping her word isn't she, and he feels a lump in his throat as she ties back his breeches around his waist and helps him to the horse, again.
She's gentle, when she pulls him up on it.
Gentler than anyone else has been while handling him in - he doesn't know how long.
Please live until we reach safety, she thinks, and he almost falls off the horse at how sad she sounded. Please please please. I have to bring you to King's Landing. I swore I'd keep you safe. I can't do more than this. Please just live.
Fucking Seven Hells.
She meant it, when she swore her lady that dumb vows, didn't she.
Fuck.
Fuck, he is her damned vow, and -
His head spins just at the thought.
He's just - he's not going to go further down that road. He's not. But he can't lie to himself about how sincere she sounds, and anyway if he's hearing her thoughts because of some stupid weird strange magic then she couldn't be lying, could she?
Fuck.
Fuck, she really does believe in oaths, doesn't she?
--
He probably asked for it, ranting about Aerys the closer to Harrenhal they got.
He hears her wondering is there something he's not telling people, because this makes no sense, not with how he sounds, not with what everyone knows, why does he sound so sad, why oh I hope he's not going mad what if he does but could I blame him if he did, and then Rorge is back kicking him in the stump and making him scream and -
I want to kill him with my bare hands, she thinks, I want to kill him with my bare damned hands god stop it can't you see he's harmless and just because of you bastards stop stop stop this is just too cruel this is too cruel why why why -
Well, he thinks before he passes out again, the pain in his wrist too blinding, at least she didn't loathe him so much she'd be glad of this.
Oh, he knew, but -
But the idea that someone wants to kill this man just because he's hurting him just -
It doesn't -
People don't want to take revenge on anyone for him, he's the one who usually -
It just doesn't -
Everything goes black.
--
When he hears the whole lot of them talking about who's taking the front and the back, he knows what they're planning.
Thing is -
I knew it was going to happen. Very well then. They'll get a fight. I'm not letting them have me easily. Fuck all, maybe I should have just let that bastard Hyle Hunt have it when they did that bet, at least it wouldn't be with any of them -
He's -
He's not going to even think about what she meant with the bet, he's too out of it, but -
She wants to fight all of them? From what he's seen she would, but -
He thinks of Queen Rhaella screaming and screaming behind that door and he couldn't do anything and she didn't fight and survived enough to birth a daughter, but - but these pieces of shit will hack her into pieces if she does and for some reason he just can't -
Not when she cares enough to -
“Wench,” he tries, “Let them have their meat, and you go far away,” he keeps on. “It will be over quicker, and they’ll get less pleasure from it.”
What the hell is he up to? What does he even care? She shakes her head. Oh, fucking stubborn wench -
“They’ll get no pleasure from what I’ll give them,” she replies. If this is how I lose my maidenhead then I'm not just letting them take it. And what does he even mean? I can't go anywhere. Far away? What does he even mean?
Oh, damn it. She doesn't get it. She won't handle it. She might be good but it will break her and if she fights it it'll just break her more, he saw it happen, he fucking saw it happen, he can't let them do it again, he can't -
“Let them do it, and go away inside." What might convince her anyway? "Think of Renly, if you loved him. Think of Tarth, mountains and seas, pools, waterfalls, whatever you have on your Sapphire Isle, think…" He keeps on talking, but then she shakes her head again, and -
As if Renly ever wanted me like that. I know he didn't. And I don't know what does he care but I can't. I handled - I handled this all my fucking life, I'll live. I knew it could happen. I'll break a few noses before they even try.
He was about to press, but then Rorge shows up and tells her that she's the ugliest woman he's ever seen -
As if I haven't heard that all my life, she scoffs in her head, and Jaime's stomach is curling on itself and he realizes he's going to have to watch them do it -
“But don’t think I can’t make you uglier. You want a nose like mine? Fight me, and you’ll get one. And two eyes, that’s too many. One scream out o’ you, and I’ll pop one out and make you eat it, and then I’ll pull your fucking teeth out one by one.”
And then he hears the thought, so clear, so fucking loud that he almost screams at hearing it -
not my eyes, they’re the only part of me other people seem to not think ugly
- and then she shakes her head and glares back at him, and when Shagwell talks about fucking her up the arse she thinks well, at least I won't have to see him while he does, and -
Oh no no no no he can't watch it happen, he can't watch it happen by sitting here and do nothing not like this not when she sounded like she was about to cry thinking about losing those pretty eyes of hers -
Maybe -
Maybe he can -
“There’s a funny fool,” he says, his own voice sounding so calm it almost freaks him out. “I have a riddle for you, Shagwell. Why do you care if she screams? Oh, wait, I know.”
No, no, no, you are a fool, what are you doing, he’s going to kill you — he hears Brienne think, but he can't care less, not now -
“Sapphires," he shouts, and -
Well.
The pain in his wrist when Rorge kicks it is entirely worth knowing he won't have to watch her being raped in front of him without even a door in the middle.
--
She's quiet for the rest of the day, but not to him.
No one else ever did what he just has, she thinks.
No other man ever -
Those bastards at Renly's camp wanted to - and he was the one -
How could I have misjudged him so badly -
What is he even hiding it makes no sense he can't be as horrible as he likes everyone to presume -
He saved me he saved me he saved me -
How could - I was supposed to keep him safe and he saved me oh gods he did -
When she finally talks, and asks him in a thin voice, calling him by his name, why did he do it, he lies. Makes up something about wanting Vargo Hoat to say thappireth, about it being a repayment for her helping him escape Riverrun at the end of it, and he can only hear what she's not saying.
I could have handled it, I always have, he was a true knight oh gods he was one, and -
I have a debt to you, too, she thinks, and his stomach lurches, but not in the bad way.
Gods.
She really is... everything she looks like, isn't she?
--
He does try to goad her in the tub.
If only to not think about how she's thinking something about having completely failed all over while she scrubs herself, but it's so angry and garbled he can barely make sense of it, and then she shrinks back from him, and -
"Does the sight of my stump distress you so?" He asks, attempting to goad her more, and then she flinches and -
I can't look at it because it's - the proof I failed you, I said I'd bring you back whole from King's Landing and here's what happened and I could barely - I mean, I did what I could but I said I'd keep you safe I swore I did I swore Lady Catelyn I would and is he trying to make me feel bad about it, is it how he's taking revenge on me, not that I can blame him but I tried oh I tried please -
He was abut to tell her something about Renly to goad her further.
He -
He can't.
"I'm sorry," he says, and when she looks at him like she can't believe him, he shrugs again. “I’m a maimed man, and bitter. Forgive me, wench. You protected me as well as any man could have, and better than most.”
What is he apologizing now why would he it makes no sense gods I don't know what to make of him anyone else wouldn't be meaning this does he mean it I don't know I don't know -
"Do you mock me?" She replies, feebly, and -
He can't even be angry at her after that. She really.... is that guarded, is't she? And if - if people bet on her maidenhead, presumably, from what he gathered, can he even blame her?
"No," he says, "I want a truce. And I meant it."
"Truces are built on trust. Should I trust -"
"The kingslayer?" He finishes for her.
I meant different - she starts thinking, but then -
Then he can't shut his mouth and before he knows it he's told her everything when he never told anyone else and he can hear her thinking oh oh oh it makes sense oh it adds up oh but why hasn't he told why hasn't he said oh gods oh gods I knew he was hiding something, and -
And when he almost faints and she catches him, gently, gentler than Cersei ever was -
I couldn't on the road but there is no way I'm leaving him to suffer now, she thinks, and then no one will answer if I call for help, but if - I won't - I don't want to say it -
She asks help for the kingslayer.
But that's not his name, she thinks, and he thinks he's crying as he passes out.
--
He hadn't wanted to leave her behind.
The moment he did, he felt like - he should have been happy, he was going back to Cersei, why wouldn't he be, except that he thinks about how she said goodbye and told him that she hoped he'd keep their vow and he could hear I completely failed but if he's - if he's the way I think he can be maybe he will do it even if I couldn't and just - he thought Arthur Dayne was the best knight he ever knew but the wench fucking buys it, believes it deep down, she fucking means it and everyone else - everyone else was more of a hoax than he has been, he knows, he has seen it, but her -
He doesn't think he's ever met anyone who was - who wanted it quite as much, not even himself, and her thoughts were what they were but they made him feel - less alone somehow and now he's surrounded by Bolton men and that fucking Qyburn and he can't hear them but from the way they look at him he can guess what they think, and then -
Then he dreams of her putting herself in between him and his older Kingsguard and looking almost beautiful and all knightly as she held that flaming sword and was as naked as she was in the baths and -
He can't.
He just fucking can't.
He goes back to Harrenhal.
--
He doesn't hear her thoughts until he jumps into the bear pit.
What is he doing here she thinks and oh he had missed her voice in his head fuck didn't he, and he smiles as she calls him Kingslayer but not meaning it at all, he knows she doesn't -
He tells her to get behind him and she protests that he's unarmed, of course she would but then -
why would he come back why why why he was going back to his sister wasn't he he was he said he was he loves her doesn't he he said so why is he here did he come back for me because he thought I was in danger oh god he did it's the second time he does it no one else has ever no one else has ever I always had to do it on my own how how how he is here
He swallows and hopes like mad that Steelshanks does what he's supposed to.
He does.
By the time they're out of the damned pit and Vargo Hoat is seething and she replies with a faint whisper that she's still a maiden when he asks he's ready to just - brush it off, why wouldn't he -
why why why why oh he looks so handsome like this he's everything I thought true knights would be once
Jaime is about to trip on his damned feet, and then -
"Ser Jaime?" She asks, thinly. "I am grateful, but you were well-away. Why come back?"
He could have just - brushed her off. Told a quip. Joked about it as he usually does. Something cruel, so she'd go back to thinking horribly of him, but she's staring at him with those pretty, wide blue eyes as she can't believe he's there and he did come back, and -
maybe he thought it was the honorable thing and oh he does have honor I see it now, but why for me, why for me, who else ever has, I never was that kind of girl, I can't believe he did that for me
Fucking hells. How old is she anyway? Eight and ten? He remembers being almost her age and - having lost all of that goodness she has, all that self-righteousness that everyone needs should they be knights, and she's looking at him like he just walked out of a song -
"I dreamed of you," he says instead, and it's the truth, isn't it -
Oh, she says, men don't dream of me, do they, and -
Fuck.
Fuck.
--
He should avoid her.
He should, because if - if she's falling in love with him and it all points to that then - then it wouldn't - it can't - Cersei would - he can't even begin to quantify it -
But then the Red Wedding happens and he hears her weeping in her tent on the way to King's Landing and he hears it, he hears it -
would ser jaime let me weep on his shoulder or would he think it beneath a true knight now
He's -
He's in her tent before he can think about it and he lets her and she grasps at his shoulders like she can't believe he's real, and then she thanks him in a thin voice and he could leave it at that but then he hears it, he hears it -
I've never known a better man
So loud and clear it's deafening, and he can't even lie to himself anymore, he can't -
He doesn't know who moves first.
What he knows is that they're kissing after a moment of staring at each other and she's whimpering into his mouth while her hands touch his face and the back of his head so gently he wants to weep at it, and is he kissing me is he kissing me oh gods I'm dreaming am I she's thinking and -
He shakes his head and brings his left hand to her cheek, fingers shaking, and he can't - he can't put up the front anymore.
"It's real," he says, and her eyes widen. "Don't worry, wench, you're easy to read. But it's - it's a good thing, I think."
"I - I didn't - I've wanted it since the bath, I think," she admits, and he could have said, I could have known or I suspected or I knew you had wanted it at the bear pit, at least.
"I kissed you first, didn't I?" He replies, and - "And for what it's worth, I want to keep that vow to fucking Catelyn Stark. And you didn't fail your side of it. I mean, I'm alive, am I not?"
"How did you know that - I thought I had?"
"You talk in your sleep," he lies, because he can't tell her that he can still hear her damned thoughts though he might have to later, but -
She tells him that she knows she doesn't expect him to keep on doing this when they reach King's Landing, and kisses him again.
He doesn't stop her.
--
When she walks into his room dressed in blue, the thought hits him so hard he almost staggers.
he looks so handsome like this, oh, I don't know how long it has been but he - he looks like a god, doesn't he, but - he can't want it again, can he -
He tells her to close the door and come closer. He - he didn't think he'd ever do what he's about to, but after the conversation he just had with Cersei -
He didn't need to read her mind to realize a few things he should have realized a long time ago, he thinks.
And then Brienne tells him that white becomes him, and -
It suits him, he looks like he was born for it and honestly he was, maybe now he can -
"I have a proposition for you," he says, and puts the Valyrian sword on the table in between the two of them.
He tells her where that sword comes from. He tells her he wants her to have it so she can look for Sansa Stark because she's his last chance at honor, but then -
"And if you wait for tomorrow to leave, until I free my brother before Cersei has him killed for a crime he didn't commit, I would come with you."
She almost drops the sword.
"You - come with me? But - you're -"
"The new Lord Commander? I am," he says, "but - I think - I thought about a few things. I - I think I'd rather be out there with you and my sister - she's not - she's not the person I remembered." Understatement. "I'll need to make sure a few things are under control here, and I have to make sure Tyrion does his escape, and - a few other matters. But - I'll send Varys to you with the name of one specific inn. Wait for me there. Three days at most and I'll join you. Will you?"
of course I would of course I will oh gods he gave me a valyrian sword he thinks I'm - he thinks I can - he'd come with me - oh gods yes yes yes
"Ser," she bows, "I would. I will wait for your missive."
Then she bows and leaves.
Well then.
Well then.
--
Three days later, he knocks on her door feeling drained inside - that conversation with Tyrion was not... what he had thought it would be and he hopes he has it in himself to forgive him with time, and his uncle hasn't quite realized what he meant to do, but - he made him understand that he should take very good care of the king and to make sure Cersei doesn't become regent, because she - she just isn't a good choice, he can see it now, and now he's tired and -
he came back, Brienne thinks in delight as he opens the door.
Fuck it all.
He kicks it closed and kisses her again, and as she moans into his mouth anew, he decides that he doesn't care what happens from now on.
He always wanted to be Arthur Dayne.
Maybe with her he can be.
End.
#jaime x brienne#jaime lannister#brienne of tarth#lannistarth#my fic#ten years anniversary promptfest#rape cw#violence cw#ngl i might expand a bit when it goes on ao3 but#for now have at it#otp: i dreamed of you
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Welcome to Faerieland - Fan Fic (last chapters)
Here we go! Last chapters of Welcome to Faerieland.
Link to full story on AO3 here.
*****
Dru and Ash landed a mile or so away from their destination, in order to avoid drawing attention to the location. As soon as their feet touched the ground, the two rocs turned around and disappeared above the treetops.
“I can walk,” Dru said and Ash offered his arm to steady her while she limped toward the general direction of the cottage. She knew it pretty well, it had sort of become a Blackthorns’ country home.
“So how do you know this place?”
“My eldest brother is dating the King of the Unseelie Court, and that’s where they meet sometimes.”
Ash whistled.
“One of your brothers is King Kieran’s lover? I think I heard about him.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty serious, although they won’t ever be able to be official about it. I guess you know what the rules are about faerie royalty’s consorts?”
“I do,” he averted his gaze and brushed a hand through his hair, in what seemed to be a nervous gesture. Dru realized it was the first time Ash had looked uncomfortable about a subject.
“A lot of rules need to be changed,” he said abruptly. “Don’t you agree?” His green eyes bore into her as he said it, as if he was desperate for her approval.
“Well, King Kieran has already been carrying out a lot of changes since he came to power. It’s just that… sometimes, it takes time. You can’t change the world overnight.”
Ash kicked a pebble. “You could, if you didn’t insist on everything being consensual. Maybe King Kieran cares too much about what people think of him... or, you know, in general.” He shrugged but there was a predatory glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before, and it almost made her cringe.
“You know, Ash, if what you are looking for in a sovereign is arbitrary decisions and a bitchy attitude, we have the Seelie Queen for that.”
She had expected Ash to laugh, his free, careless laugh - God, she loved it when he did that - but he seemed lost in thought.
She had to admit she had been a bit harsh. She knew the Seelie and Unseelie Courts were in much better terms now that King Arawn was dead. The Queen had appointed the Unseelie Prince Adaon as her most trusted advisor and the two of them and King Kieran met regularly to reinforce the bonds and cooperation between both realms.
Dru started humming a song and Ash paused, his green eyes widening. “Are you singing… Royals ?”
“Yeah, I love that song. Do you know it?”
“I do,” he answered, suppressing a smile.
As they walked, she sang louder - she knew the lyrics by heart - and he watched her with glittering eyes, clearly entertained.
“And we'll never be royals It don't run in our blood That kind of luxe just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler You can call me queen bee”
“Maybe I will,” he whispered in her ear as he tickled her, and she elbowed him playfully.
He sang along with her then - he had a beautiful tenor voice - both of them throwing their heads back at the same time to howl at the sky “And baby, I'll rule - I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule” , like a pair of wolves. They roared with laughter, Dru holding her ribs and leaning against Ash for support. Watching him from the corner of her eye, she marvelled at the fact that she had found a new friend in such a short time.
At the Academy, people either feared her because she was a Blackthorn or wanted to be friends with her simply for that same reason. Or both. She was almost a celebrity, despite herself. Only because of her last name and her eldest brothers’ hand in ending the Cold Peace in the most spectacular way. And of course, there were always the loud-mouthed bigots and moralists who were baffled by the Blackthorns’ ties with the Fair Folk and their so-called “sexual and moral depravity”. The Rosales, of course, suffered the same criticism, and Jaime had always been a comforting shoulder and reliable friend to Dru in those moments where she felt she had had too much to deal with.
She didn’t want to worry Julian, Emma, Mark or even Helen with her troubles making friends at the Academy.
She couldn’t confide in Ty, because he didn’t care at all what people thought, and was content with sticking to his close friends, Livvy and Anush. His teachers, especially Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were absolute fans - even if Fell would never admit it - and everyone at the Scholomance was too impressed by his obvious academic superiority - and maybe, the Carpathian lynx tailing him - to dare bother him anyway.
Ash seemed to be far away from all of this, as if he had been living as a hermit in a remote tower, which was probably close to the truth.
He was the only one outside her siblings, with the exception of Jaime of course, to treat her like an ordinary girl.
And maybe, maybe someday Ash could become more than a friend. He was nice, definitely fun, absolutely gorgeous and he had kissed her after all, even though she knew it could be meaningless where faeries were concerned. She had been waiting for Jaime to figure things out for so long, and Ash had appeared out of nowhere and had shown interest without a moment’s hesitation.
She was interrupted in her thoughts as a broad-shouldered silhouette falling from the sky dropped on the ground before them. Dru released Ash’s arm to clap both her hands on her mouth, relief washing over her. Kit, looking as angelic as ever with his bright blue eyes and tousled blond hair, fluttered his white wings tipped with gold as he advanced gleefully to greet Dru.
The reunion was cut short as he was suddenly thrown back by a figure shooting straight into him like a cannonball and from one moment to the next, Kit disappeared into a ball of black and white feathers, rolling on the grass.
It took Dru a moment to realize that Ash had disappeared from her side and that he was actually the one who had attacked Kit. She ran to separate them but soon they were shooting up, caught in a wrestling match a few feet above ground, moving so swiftly they were a blur.
Dru let out a heavy sigh before she put two fingers between her lips and whistled as loud as she could. The two figures froze - they were still grappling each other - and looked down.
“ASH! KIT! Both of you. Get down here! NOW.”
They both looked at each other.
“ASH! What the hell is wrong with you, this is my brother’s boyfriend !” Dru continued, gesturing frantically toward Kit.
Ash released Kit first, grudgingly, and they both landed softly on the floor. There was a long gash across Ash’s cheek but he was grinning like the Cheshire cat, his eyes glittering in excitement. He winked at Dru as he wiped blood from his mouth. Kit was rearranging his hair, looking pissed, and Dru realized that his knuckles were bloody and that there was a small cut on his eyebrow. Both of them seemed otherwise unharmed.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Batman ?” Kit said, glaring at Ash.
“Sorry,” Ash replied, wiping dirt from his shirt. “I took you for a psychopathic jerk who nearly killed me a few years ago. He literally kicked me and my uncle out of the place we used to live in. You look exactly like him.”
“Well, it can’t have been me since last night was the first time I ever saw you,” Kit replied sharply, wiping his bloody knuckles over his shirt.
“Yeah, don’t worry, I figured that out pretty fast. You fight like a pussy compared to him.”
“Want to say that again?” Kit lifted an eyebrow at him.
“Boys, could you please stop comparing the sizes of your dicks, so we can move on?”
Ash and Kit complied, arguing over which Batman movie was best the entire way, until the cottage came into view, a few feet away. The door opened and Jaime came out of it, running toward them.
“Dru,” he cried out. He caught up to her, and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She lost herself in his familiar and comforting scent and pressed her cheek against his torso. “Mi corazón,” he whispered softly. "We were worried sick. Cómo estás?”
Jaime brushed his hands through Dru’s hair and planted a kiss on her forehead.
She swiftly pulled back, her eyes darting to where Ash was leaning against a tree, talking to Kit, his arms crossed. He was smiling indulgently at her, as if he didn’t mind.
“I am fine, thanks to Ash,” she said, and pulled Jaime over to where Ash and Kit were standing. “Jaime, this is Ash. Ash, this is Jaime,” she introduced, waving her hand awkwardly between the two of them.
“Thank you for taking care of our precious Dru,” Jaime said, extending his hand. “We owe you one.”
“No hay de qué!” Ash replied, shaking his hand.
“Hablas español?” Jaime asked, looking pleasantly surprised.
“Solo a hombres con un excelente gusto en mujeres.” He gave Jaime a wicked grin and looked pointedly at Dru. Jaime’s face fell.
A high-pitched shriek had them whip their heads up in time to see a majestic roc land on the ground, a few feet away. Ty hopped gracefully from the giant bird and walked immediately to Dru. He was pale - even more so than usual - with deep dark circles under his gray eyes, and Dru marvelled at how gorgeous her brother was anyway, whatever state he was in. She sometimes wished she had inherited the same stunningly sharp features. Without a word, Ty knelt in front of Dru and started inspecting her wound.
“Ash, this is my brother Ty,” Dru announced proudly.
Ash started to extend his hand but Dru shook her head at him. He let it fall by his side.
“Ty, this is Ash.”
Tiberius nodded without lifting his gaze.
“Who tended to the wound?”
“I did,” Ash answered.
Ty finally stood - and Dru realized Ash was almost as tall as Ty, which was saying something, since Ty was very tall - and glanced at Ash for the first time, his gray eyes looking down under his long eyelashes and not lifting up from a spot on Ash’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said curtly.
Hesitantly, Ty put his arms around Dru in one of the rare hugs he had ever granted her. It was awkward and short, but Dru knew it meant Ty had been truly terrified of losing her.
After they released each other, Ty whirled and started walking toward the cottage. He paused after a few steps and glanced over his shoulder. The four of them had just been standing there, staring at him. “Are you coming?”
They all hurried after Ty, Dru having one arm around Ash’s, and the other around Jaime’s.
“So, tell me. Are all your brothers this handsome?” Ash asked her, as he looked Ty up and down appreciatively.
“EXCUSE ME? “ Kit interjected. His whole face had gone bright red in an instant and he started cracking his bloody knuckles. He looked poised for a second round.
“What? Did I say something wrong?” Ash did not seem in the least bit concerned by Kit’s reaction.
“It’s my boyfriend you are talking about.”
“And I just said I found him attractive. Is that in any way offensive?”
Dru laughed. “No,” she said. “I am sure you were simply stating your opinion and not trying to steal Kit’s boyfriend.”
“I am not trying to steal anyone’s lover,” Ash concurred, gazing wistfully at Dru. ”I just admire beauty when I see it”.
“But he would definitely be up for sex if Ty wanted to,” Jaime muttered sarcastically under his breath.
Ash shot him a puzzled look. “Of course, I would. Why not? Kit would be welcome as well, the more the merrier.”
Kit opened his mouth but seemed too much in a shock for a witty comeback. That was a first.
Oddly enough, Dru realized she didn’t feel jealous or baffled by Ash’s statement. He was like an untamed bird breaking out of a cage, unwilling to bend to any rules of propriety. She guessed part of it was due to his fey heritage.
“Mark is the Unseelie King’s lover, the Seelie Queen keeps trying to get into Julian’s pants and now you two,” Jaime said eventually, looking over at Ty and Dru. “What is it with the Blackthorns and the Fair Folk anyway?”
“Probably the exact same thing there is with Blackthorns and any other species,” Ash said evenly.
Everyone turned a questioning look at him.
“They are hot,” he said simply, and shrugged.
Everyone laughed at that.
*****
They were all starving so they decided to have breakfast in the cottage before heading back home.
Kit, wearing an apron that had "Doughnut sandwiches are a proper meal” printed on it (and that probably belonged to Mark Blackthorn), was in the kitchen, scrambling a huge portion of eggs in a large pan with a wooden spoon. He somehow managed to make it look totally hot.
“Eggs?” Ty asked Kit as he came to stand next to him and put a hand on the small of Kit’s back.
“Yeah, I would have cooked pancakes, but we are missing a few ingredients to do that. So it will be eggs. Eggs and fruits. God knows there are plenty of fruits here.”
“You know how to cook pancakes?” Ty asked, his gray eyes widening in surprise.
Kit shot him a shy glance.
“Yeah, I… I asked Julian for his recipe. You know, in case one day I needed to cook for you…r family.”
Kit and Ty both exchanged a look that was so intimate, Jaime had to glance away. He found Ash leaning casually against the fridge, his arms crossed, and gazing at him with a smirk on his face. He looked like he owned the place and hadn’t just popped uninvited into the home of strangers. When Jaime raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Ash unfolded his arms to draw the shape of a heart in the air in front of him. Jaime rolled his eyes. He definitely didn’t like this guy.
They set the table, while Dru was in the bedroom looking for clothes.
Kit and Ty sat next to each other, their fingers intertwined under the table and their backs to the kitchen counter, which left Ash to sit across from Ty and Jaime to sit across from Kit. They had left a spot at the head of the table for Drusilla, who would have Ash on her left and Ty on her right when she came back.
Ty only had fruits on his plate, and he was eyeing Kit gulping his eggs down, as if he was reconsidering having some himself.
“Want to try?” Ash brought his fork to Ty, who flinched as if he had been stabbed.
Kit grabbed Ash’s wrist and pushed the fork away from Ty.
“Ty can use my fork if he wants to try it. He is my boyfriend, after all.”
Ash shrugged. “Yeah, no worries, I think I got that. You can tattoo it on your forehead, it will spare you from having to repeat it to every living soul you encounter on Earth.”
Ash glanced at Jaime, and said in a lower voice, directed only at him. “And it will keep other people from pining for someone they can’t have.”
“Excuse me?” Jaime turned to whisper in Ash’s ear. “What does it have to do with Dru and me?”
“I was not talking about Dru,” Ash whispered back.
They both jerked their heads up, as Dru swooped in from the bedroom then, wearing a beautiful red dress that Jaime remembered having seen on Cristina. It was much tighter on Dru, clinging to her curves and emphasizing her cleavage. Jaime swallowed. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on in his head.
Ash immediately stood to draw Dru’s chair and she nodded by way of thanking him. She sat on it as if it was a throne, her chin up.
Jaime glanced over at Ash, who seemed so free about his sexuality, and felt a pang of envy.
“So, what’s your deal, Ash?” Jaime blurted. Ash raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Are you…” Jaime cleared his throat. “Bixesual?”
A slow grin spread across Ash’s face. “We’ve just met and you’re already trying to fill your fact sheet about me and tick one of your little boxes?”
“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Jaime said, feeling uncomfortable.
“I know you didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am not offended by your question,” Ash continued in a gentler voice. “It’s just that… not everyone can fit into little boxes.” He swiftly glanced at Ty when he said it. It was a flicker movement, but lynx-eyed Ty caught it immediately.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Tiberius said. “I am definitely gay.” He slipped half a banana inside his mouth then, totally oblivious of the gesture. Kit and Ash weren’t though. Kit made a noise between a snort and a chuckle and spilled the water he was drinking through his nose and all over his shirt, while Ash almost fell off his chair roaring with laughter. Dru looked at the boys with motherly affection.
Jaime stood and hurried to the kitchen to get a towel to clean the mess. When he turned, Kit was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter, extending his hand and looking at Jaime with a genuine smile that lit up his gorgeous face.
“Thanks, Jaime,” he said, as he grabbed the towel and started padding his shirt with it. The planes of his muscles stood out and could be seen right through the wet fabric.
“No problem,” Jaime mumbled, feeling his heartbeat increasing inside his chest.
He averted his gaze, past Kit, to the table, where Ty and Dru had their heads bent together, caught in a deep conversation.
Ash was peering around Ty, watching Jaime with amusement. When he caught Jaime gazing back, he stuck his tongue inside his cheek, and started moving his fist back and forth in front of his mouth, miming a blowjob.
Jaime resisted the urge to flip him the finger.
****
When breakfast was over, Dru lay sprawled on a sofa, her leg propped on Jaime’s lap, and Ash was examining the sound system, so he could put music on.
Kit and Ty had disappeared. God only knew where.
“So, what was that demon attack in the middle of Faerie about?” Jaime asked.
“Ty has a theory. And you won’t like it,” Dru replied. “He believes the Unseelie prince who held us hostage has made an alliance with a Greater Demon… probably a Prince of Hell.”
Jaime tensed. If Ty believed this, it was very bad news indeed. “So why send an army of demons to attack an ally?”
Dru twirled a lock of her dark brown hair as she replied. “Two options. Either the Prince of Hell discovered that his ally had been exposed and wanted to silence him. Or… or we will soon be caught in the middle of an internal war between the Princes of Hell.”
“You mean… there might be more than one involved?”
“To quote Ty, evidence makes it more likely than not,” Dru replied, imitating her brother’s voice. Jaime felt dread wash over him.
He gently put Dru’s leg on an armrest and excused himself.
Sometimes, he felt so anxious it was all he could do not to curl up in a corner and wait for his chest pain and dizziness to fade. The mission he had carried out a few years back, where he had to stay hidden all the time, never staying in one place, had made him jumpy, poised for any threat. He didn’t want Dru to see that side of him. For her, he could only be the calm and reliable friend she was used to.
He decided to scout the rest of the cottage for an empty room. There was a corridor - leading to a bathroom? more bedrooms maybe? - on the left side of the main suite’s door.
He went through and just as he turned around a corner... stopped short.
Halfway down the corridor, Ty was leaning with his back against the wall and Kit had his hands propped on either side of him, trapping Ty in a cage of his arms… and they were kissing.
Jaime had never seen two men kissing before and he was surprised to see how tender and sweet it looked. Ty was running his long pale fingers in Kit’s blond hair while the other hand rested on the small of Kit’s back, half of it concealed under Kit’s waistband.
Kit was naked from the waist up and Jaime could see all the tanned muscles in his back contract as he deepened the kiss, eliciting soft moans from the Blackthorn boy.
They were beautiful together, two opposites inevitably drawn to each other, their bodies fitting perfectly like yin and yang.
Jaime felt his whole body react, with a familiar flutter around his stomach and heat rushing up his cheeks. He knew he should not be watching, but he couldn’t get himself to tear his gaze away.
Kit broke the kiss to trace the dark Marks swirling up Ty’s neck with the tip of his tongue. Ty’s gray eyes fluttered open and he caught sight of Jaime. His intense gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t even seem surprised or angry. He simply raised an eyebrow at Jaime as if to say Can I help you with something ?
Jaime hastily retreated to the living room.
He found Ash’s lean figure perched on the wide low table at the center of the room, dancing to the blasting sound of Beyoncé’s Single Ladies and singing along. “If you like it, you should have put a ring on it,” actually sounded very good in his velvety voice. He was twisting, hands on his hips, and throwing his legs up like a professional, while making dramatic faces at Dru, who was sprawled on the sofa, howling with laughter. As he brushed his lips with his finger, licking it and started caressing his torso while throwing his head back, shaking his beautiful silvery hair, he managed to make it look erotic and not ridiculous at all. Jaime had to admit… His moves were perfect, fluid, coordinated and he totally… pulled it off. Annoying jerk.
“Having fun without me?” Kit burst into the room - he was, fortunately, wearing a shirt this time - and immediately hopped on the table to join Ash and one could not imagine they had been wrestling less than an hour before.
When Dru caught Jaime watching them, she patted the spot on the sofa next to her and he moved to drop beside her, throwing his arm around her shoulders.
The music had changed to Rihanna’s S&M and Ash and Kit were dancing together as if they had rehearsed for hours, their dance steps coordinated and smooth. They looked like two lifelong best buddies who could guess each other’s moves. They were pulsing with energy, although obviously neither of them had slept the previous night. Ash made a show of licking Kit’s cheek, and Kit pushed him away, grimacing. When Ash arched his back to rub his buttocks against Kit’s crotch and Kit spanked him, Dru wiped tears from her eyes. Jaime imagined what it would be like to go to a nightclub with the both of them. They would most likely steal the show.
As if on cue, the next song was… Stole the show, by Kygo. As they danced close together in perfect synchrony, Jaime noticed for the first time the similarities between Ash and Kit. Though Ash was all pale, white blond hair and alabaster skin, and Kit was all golden hair and tanned muscles, there was something about their facial features, the planes of their cheeks, the lines of their jaws… They did not look like brothers, but they could easily pass for cousins.
Jaime grabbed a Hot Shadowhunters calendar that had been left on the side table and started flipping through the pages. Looking at the January page featuring Jace Herondale, he wondered why everyone said Kit was like a mini Jace when Jaime could clearly see there was a difference, now that Kit had grown into more adult features. At least to Jaime, Kit’s fey heritage was plain.
When the music changed to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, Jaime turned his head to find Ty leaning against the kitchen counter and watching the two dancers with a bemused expression, his arms crossed over his chest.
He eventually caught Kit’s eye, lifted a questioning eyebrow, and jerked his head toward the bedroom door. Kit stumbled from the table in his hurry to join Ty and followed him out of the living room and through the main bedroom door, which shut behind them.
*****
Kit jumped on the huge threesome bed as soon as they were inside the bedroom. He felt exhilarated, full of adrenaline and restless energy, and he wanted Ty so much that he was certain he would spontaneously combust if they didn’t share their bodies within the next minute.
He shot Ty a smoldering look as he lounged on the thick mattress, twisting his shoulders seductively while singing along to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, which was blasting through the thin walls.
“We got this king-size to ourselves Don't have to share with no one else Don't keep your secrets to yourself It's Kama Sutra show and tell, yeah”
Ty had folded his arms against his chest and was shaking his head, as if he didn’t know what to make of this misbehaving boy.
“Kit, you interrupted me earlier when I was trying to have a serious conversation. Will you please let me finish this time?”
"I'm in trouble." Kit continued, clapping a hand over his mouth in a dramatic oops gesture. "But I'd love to be in trouble with you."
Ty rolled his eyes. He didn’t seem ready to play along with Kit, so Kit finally stood and grabbed Ty's upper arms, forcing him to back up until he had him pinned against the wall. He started wiggling his hips, rubbing against Ty, his body swaying to the music.
“You've got to give it up to me I'm screaming, "Mercy, mercy, please!" Just like they say it in the song Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on.”
Kit slipped a hand under Ty’s waistband, straight into his boxer shorts, and whispered “Hello there” as he brushed his lips against Ty’s ear.
“Kit…” Ty said sharply, as a warning, though Kit could hear his breathing was uneven.
“Ty,” Kit replied with all the seriousness he could muster. “When I saw you riding that Shinigami demon carrying a crossbow, I was so turned on it was all I could do not to jump your bones there and then.”
Ty laughed softly. “It appears you have a kink involving me wielding dangerous weapons. Maybe I should bring a claymore to bed next time and threaten you with it.”
“Honey, you know that, as far as I am concerned, you carry the deadliest weapon around with you at all times,” Kit started stroking Ty’s length as if to illustrate his point. It hardened under his touch. Good, we’re heading somewhere. "I was talking about your brain of course," Kit added.
“Kit, listen to me.” Ty grabbed Kit’s wrist and pulled it out of his pants. Kit groaned. “Haven’t you noticed anything strange about Ash?”
That caught Kit’s attention. He had not expected Ash to be the subject of their conversation. He had actually hoped to avoid any kind of conversation altogether. For a little while at least.
“Well, I noticed he is an amazing fighter and dancer. I am totally up for challenging him again, either in a training room or on a dancefloor.” There was something about Ash and him fighting and dancing together, a raw yet steady energy, not like the restlessness and all consuming love he felt around Ty, but something grounding him, making him even more focused. As if he had found a kindred warrior spirit.
“He probably has no effect on you, but… I think spells have been worked on him to render him… likeable. People are inevitably drawn to him, want to protect and follow him.”
Kit swallowed, suddenly deadly serious. “Does this… work on you?”
“No. And I have several theories about that. First… Well, I am a bit different. My brain doesn’t work the same way others’ do. Second, the Blackthorns have a bit of Greater Demon blood, even if it is quite diluted. I do believe Dru genuinely likes him.”
“You mean from your ancestor Lucie Herondale?”
Ty nodded. “And the third and most important explanation is… you. You have my full loyalty.” He rested his forehead against Kit’s. “There is no way in hell I am following him, when I could follow you. ”
Kit brushed his lips over Ty’s.
“What about Jaime? He seems to dislike Ash.”
“I am still trying to figure this out. But it may be one of the reasons I am immune to it, myself.”
“What? You think the Rosales have Greater Demon blood as well?”
“Maybe. But that’s not what I was referring to.”
They were both interrupted when they heard voices raising in the living room. Jaime’s voice was the loudest. And he sounded totally pissed.
Ty hurried toward the door, and Kit followed.
****
As soon as Kit and Ty had disappeared behind the bedroom door, Ash jumped over Dru and Jaime’s heads to land behind the sofa and stole the Hot Shadowhunters calendar from Jaime’s hands. “Hey!” Jaime cried out.
Ash circled back and dropped himself next to Dru, which left her crammed between him and Jaime. As he flipped to the first page, the January page, Ash froze. He was gaping at the picture of Jace Herondale, as if he could not quite believe his eyes.
Falling for Jace Herondale, already? What a surprise.
But oddly, Ash didn’t smile or make a sarcastic comment, as Jaime would have expected. He had a sorrowful expression and a faraway look.
“This is Jace Herondale,” Dru said softly. “Surely, even you have heard of him ?”
Ash swallowed. “Yeah,” he said absently. “Yeah, I have. He looks… happy.”
“Well, of course, he is happy. He has it all, hasn’t he?” Jaime said. “War hero. Married to the love of his life. The Consul as faithful parabatai.” Ash flinched, as if each word was a needle to his skin.
“Ash, is everything okay?”
Ash shook his head as if to clear it.
“Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking about… the butterfly effect. How a single human being’s existence… or absence, can change the course of things… can change the whole world.”
Where the hell did that come from? Jaime wondered.
Ash lifted his gaze to stare at the door where Kit and Ty had disappeared. “Take Kit for instance. Who knew it would only take a hot boyfriend to turn a ruthless, bloodthirsty ruler into a harmless kitten.”
“Er- Ash, I am not sure I am following you,” Dru said gently. “What do you mean?”
Ash let out a heavy sigh and slumped back, crossing his long arms behind his head, the Hot Shadowhunters calendar left at the January page on his lap.
“Nothing, I am rambling.” It looked like he was lost in his thoughts again.
Jaime seized the opportunity to whisper in Dru’s ear. “Dru, can we find some place private to… talk?”
Dru gazed at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”
Jaime didn’t get a chance to answer as the entrance door rattled at that moment and they both whipped their heads in the direction of the noise.
The door opened and Mark Blackthorn, all tousled blond hair, pointy ears and flushed cheeks, erupted inside the cottage, wearing ragged jeans and a white shirt with a message that stated, “All good things come in threes”. He paused, as if he didn’t really expect to see so many people in his living room.
Jaime immediately withdrew his arm from Dru’s shoulders and stood, but soon registered that Mark was not looking at him… He was staring at Ash who had, from one moment to the next, leapt on the table in front of them and was crouched on top of it, ready to pounce, a dangerous glint in his ice green eyes. He had moved to protect Dru from a potential threat, Jaime realized. And there was no trace of the Ash that had been goofing around with Kit a moment before. The feeling that he had been played like a fool until then hit Jaime like a freight train. They had all fallen for Ash’s laid-back, good guy act. In one instant, Ash had revealed his true, predatory nature…
“Mark!” Dru waved from the sofa, unfazed. “You already know Jaime of course and this is Ash,” she introduced. “Ash… this is my brother Mark.”
Ash relaxed from his stance and leapt off the table, flashing a bright smile and wearing his cool guy mask back on. As if he hadn’t been ready to rip Mark’s throat a second before. The abrupt change in Ash's behaviour almost gave Jaime a whiplash.
“Have we… met before?” Mark asked, looking at Ash with his brows furrowed as he closed the door.
“In any event, I wish to be properly introduced,” Ash said, evading the question. “I am Dru’s boyfriend.”
“Excuse me?” Dru interjected at the same time Jaime exclaimed “WHAT?”
Ash shrugged. “I thought our make out session had settled it.”
Jaime felt heat rush up his face. He whirled on Dru. “We’ve known each other for three years and you’ve known this guy for what? Less than twelve hours? And you’ve already kissed him?”
“To be fair, I am the one who kissed her ,” Ash said in a calm voice. “She didn’t tell me to stop, though.” He paused, his long fingers stroking his delicate chin as he pondered. “Then again, how could she have, what with my tongue being down her throat and all?”
“Ash, don’t intervene,” Dru said, her already white complexion growing paler by the second. “This is not between us.”
“Really?” Ash answered in a fake shocked expression. “I could have sworn it was my tongue down your throat.”
“What’s going on here?” Ty asked as he came out of the bedroom, followed by Kit.
“GREAT!” Jaime said. “That’s just my luck! We’re just missing Julian and…”
“And?” Julian asked, his tall broad-shouldered figure appearing in the entrance. He froze in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, his face a mask of shock as his blue-green eyes swept across the room.
“... And all my worst nightmares are reunited in the same room. OK, let’s be done with it.”
Jaime took a deep breath and caught each of the Blackthorn brothers’ gaze, one after the other.
“I. FANCY. DRU. OKAY? I like her. I know she’s sixteen, but we are good together and I want her to be my girlfriend.”
*Cough* “ Too late.” *Cough* That was Ash. Dru turned to glare at him.
“Well, that’s not even relevant anymore, is it? Since apparently… She prefers Legolas, here.” Jaime continued, waving his hand toward Ash.
“Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t even look like him.”
“Lego-who?” Ty asked, puzzled.
“He’s talking about Ash. Don’t worry honey, I’ll explain,” Kit said, speaking for the first time.
“And what the hell are you doing here?” Julian asked, turning toward Kit, a flicker of panic crossing his features.
“He just came out of the bedroom with Ty,” Mark said.
Kit lifted both his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t having sex with him,” he blurted. “I mean… not this time.” His face went red. “I mean- I am out of here. If anyone’s looking for me, I’m in the bedroom.” He whirled and paused in front of the bedroom door, his hand on the knob. “Not having sex with anyone...” he specified before he disappeared behind it.
Julian heaved a sigh and turned his gaze back to Ash.
Ash gulped. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, his green eyes wide.
“This is not the end of it. But first things first. Can anyone tell me what the hell Ash Morgenstern is doing here?”
They had barely registered the question, when a sharp cry from behind Julian had them all jump. A slender figure peered around him, red hair like flames flowing over a green velvet dress embroidered with gold. Jaime had seen enough drawings and pictures of her to recognize her instantly. The Seelie Queen.
She pushed Julian aside and ran to Ash, throwing her thin pale arms around him and burying her face in his chest, the golden circlet around her head tipping to the side as she did. “Where were you last night? I came to the house, and it was empty . I have been looking for you everywhere since!”
Dru was staring at Ash open-mouthed. He shot her an apologetic look.
“Mom, let me introduce you to Dru. Dru…” Ash cleared his throat. “Meet my mom.”
*****
Tagging @gabtapia ❤️ Hope you'll enjoy it and, of course, don't hesitate to correct my spanish ;)
#cassandraclare#the wicked powers#cassandra clare fan fiction#the dark artifices#jaime rosales#drusilla blackthorn#dru blackthorn#ash morgenstern#kit herondale#kit herongraystairs#kitty tda#kit and ty#ty blackthorn#tiberius blackthorn#ty and kit#tsc fanfiction#tda fanfiction#the shadowhunters chronicles icons#the shadowhunter chronicles#dru and ash#ash and dru#dru x ash#ash x dru#julian blackthorn#mark blackthorn#jules blackthorn#seelie queen#queen of the seelie court
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Born To Be Yours | Part IX
Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)
Season 1-8
Word Count: 2,883
Note: Sorry for the delay :(
Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8
“I’m glad nothing serious happened to you or your friend.” Tyrion poured himself some wine and you accepted to drink with him.
“Me too.”
“I know you are a hero but I sense something else here... why you keep taking those risks for her?” He curiously asked.
“She has no one...” That was true, still, you were trying to keep your feelings buried.
“You love her.” You hid your blush behind the silver cup. He chuckled. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. She seems to be a good Lady. With all that your brother has done to her having you is a blessing.”
“You... you’re okay with it?” Loving her in secret was one thing but saying it out loud to someone was a different one.
“Of course! I could never judge you. You don’t dictate your heart, you have all my support, Y/N.” He warmly smiled, you bent down to hug him. This is one of the many reasons you love your uncle so much.
“Thank you, uncle.”
“Now I fully understand why you did that yesterday. Does she know?” He walked to the balcony gesturing you to follow him.
“No. And maybe it’s all in my head.” You brushed it off. “She sees me as her very good chum who saves her from my horrendous family.”
“Or perhaps she’s just afraid to admit it. After all, you are the princess. It’s not that easy. You’ll figure it out.” He tapped your shoulder. Could Sansa really feel the same? Nothing’s impossible, you just have to give it time and be patient. But with the way she looks at you... how you find comfort in her embraces... how she gently touches your hand...
You made your way to the Stark girl’s room to check on her just to find the door wide open and a scared Sansa with the bed stained of blood, her nightgown had red stains too.
The Hound was there, you scowled. You knew he was going to tell Cersei, and that was the last thing the redhead wanted. Shae arrived shortly.
“Good morning.” You said.
“Princess.” Sandor and Shae greeted. Your gaze landed on Sansa, the tears were threatening to come out. She didn’t say anything.
“I will inform the Queen.” He stated and left. Sansa threw herself into your arms. You could feel her tensing and quivering.
“Hey hey, it’s gonna be fine. He’s not gonna touch you.” You promise her, you would do anything to keep him away from her, even if that meant being punished.
“You should take a bath before you meet her grace.” The young handmaid said.
“I’m going to wait outside until you are finished, then I’ll escort you to my mother’s chambers. Don’t worry, my lady. I got you.” You assured. Her features relaxed and you gave her a small nod.
You tried to come with excuses for your mother to not force her to carry Joffrey’s babies immediately but nothing with a valid point seemed to be compelling enough.
After she was done you headed to her big room. “How is your wound?” You added to soothe the hike.
“Better. You are a very good healer.” She shyly answered.
“One of my many gifts.” You winked to ease her nerves. The Queen Regent was already expecting her, yet she was not very surprised when you showed up behind Sansa, you let her entered first.
“My love, what are you doing here?” Cersei asked you, raising her eyebrow.
“I... thought I’d give Lady Sansa some advice, I flowered almost two years ago. I know it is grubby at first.”
“It certainly is. But her mother prepared her, didn’t she?”
“She told me. I thought... it would be different.” Sansa confessed.
“In what way?” You both took a seat.
“I thought it would be less... less messy.”
“Wait until you birth a child. You’re a woman now, do you know what that means?”
“I’m fit to bear children for the King.” Yes, your heart was breaking again.
“Is there any rush?” You intervened and Cersei faked a sympathetic smile.
“The sooner the better.” She made a flick for you to keep your mouth shut. Your jaw tensed. “A prospect that once delighted you. The greatest honor for a queen. Joffrey has always been difficult. Even his birth, I labored one day and a half to bring him into this world. You cannon imagine the pain. I screamed so loud I was sure Robert would hear me in the Kingswood.”
“His grace was not with you?”
“Robert was hunting. Whenever my time was near, he would flee to the trees with his huntsmen and his hounds. The only time he was with me was when Y/N was born. I’ll always remember how she wrapped her little hand around his finger, she smiled at him and that was the only time in my life I saw a tear fell from his cheek. It was too emotional.”
You missed him so badly, the stories he used to tell you about Westeros, the adventures he had when he was a young Lord, the thrill in his eyes when he saw you swing the sword for the first time, he taught you all about archery, about bravery. When you were feeling low because of Joffrey and your mother he would carry you in his arms and then ride far from the city in your horses. You missed those days cause in the dark moments he was your hero.
“You never told me that before.”
“You were your father’s favorite.” Then she referred to Sansa. “Joffrey will show you no such devotion. You may never love the King but you will love his children.” She told her calmly.
“I love his grace with all my heart.” Sansa lied in her usual innocent voice.
“That’s very touching to hear. Permit me to share some womanly wisdom with you on this special day. The more people you love, the weaker you are. You’ll do things for them that you know you shouldn’t do. You’ll act the fool to make them happy, to keep them safe. Love no one but your children. On that front, a mother has no choice.” Was it so hard for Cersei to love you as much as she loved your siblings? To support you and be there for you?
“But shouldn’t I love Joffrey, your grace?”
“You can try, little dove. My sweet daughter here, she will be marrying some Lord very soon. I think it’s time for you to start your own family.” The blonde abruptly added. Sansa felt her stomach twist itself into an uncomfortable knot.
“That means I will have to leave you, mother.” You complained. Cersei doesn’t want to end up alone, Jaime is a prisoner, you don’t know if you’re going to see him again. But she doesn’t want you to abandon her, deep down does she care? A question you often ask yourself.
“You grew too fast. You are my oldest daughter, any man who has your heart will be very lucky. Many of them are interested in you.” Your eyes were set only on Sansa Stark, even if you couldn’t be together.
“But I’m not interested in them.” You pointed out. Was she trying to send you away just because you were willing to keep protecting Sansa at all costs, or did she really wanted to get rid of you?
You and the northerner walked out. You let go of those thoughts. Focusing on her again you broke the silence. “There’ll be a battle soon. My uncle’s army will arrive anytime. Joffrey is going to be busy. I’m always here for you, Sansa.” You reassured once more, for her to know she’s not alone.
“I feel trapped. But when you’re around... you make everything better.” Hearing that made you feel a wave of joy. She blushed and gods, your face was the color of her hair too.
“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” You said smiling sincerely at her. She smiled back at you.
The following days passed so very fast, now you were helping uncle Tyrion do some researching on books to find information to use for the incoming battle. The King himself apparently is occupied torturing people and animals to care for his Kingdoms. Bronn was there too, your uncle thought he’d come with some ideas for the defense of the city.
You were distracted, to say the least, your mind wandering in the redhead beauty, in how she seemed to be troubled almost all the time.
“Dear niece, I need your cleverness.” You came out of your trance.
“We are very lucky to have you as Hand of the King, uncle, otherwise we’d be doomed. And I mean it, no sarcasm. I want to join you in the field.” Tyrion wasn’t expecting to hear that statement. You knew you could be effective.
“What? Absolutely not. The last time in the riot the gods were good and you were unharmed. This is way different. I know you are brave, just like Robert was, but I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Let alone the fact your mother won’t allow it.”
“I can take care of myself. Joffrey won’t last a moment there. Maybe I can coax him to fight along his men.”
“I wish you could. He won’t listen.”
“I’ll do it anyway.”
“So stubborn. My brain might explode before I find something helpful. ‘A History of the Great Sieges of Westeros.’ By Archmaester Shevelathin. Shevelatesh.”
“Ch’Vyalythan.” You corrected him.
“Are you sure?” You shrugged.
“My Princess. Lord Hand. Commander. I must compliment you on the Gold Cloak’s performance last few weeks. Did you know there has been a marked drop in thievery?” Lord Varys said entering the room.
“How did you accomplish this?”
“Me and the lads rounded up all the known thieves.” Bronn nonchalant replied.
“For questioning?”
“No. It’s just the unknown thieves we need to worry about now.”
“We’ve talked about this.”
“Have you ever been on a city under siege? Maybe this part is not in your books. See, it’s not the fighting that kills most people. It’s the starving. Food’s worth more than gold. The thieves love a siege. Soon as the gates are sealed they steal all of it. By the time it’s all over, they’re the richest men in town.”
“Yes, I believe extreme measures are warranted. Ah ‘The Great Sieges of Westeros.’ Thrilling subject, shame archmaester Ch’Vyalthan wasn’t a better writer.” Varys referred to the big book on the table.
“Uncle Stannis knows King’s Landing, he knows where we are the strongest and where we are the weakest. We need to be cautious. Take him down before he arrives at the gates.” Now you were focusing, strategy was essential.
“That’s it! The Mud Gate. A good ram will batter it down in minutes, and it’s only fifty yards from the water. That’s where he’ll land.” Tyrion affirmed certainly.
“If he does attack at the Mud Gate, what is our plan?” Varys curiously inquired. Tyrion looked at you, and then back at him.
“Wildfire.” He said.
After discussing the tactics you went to share some time with Sansa, she is one of the few people who gives you peace. Little Tommen was on his reading lessons. She was embroidering a red scarf with two lions on the top. Your heart warmed at the sight of it.
“Shae is not here?”
“I dismissed her an hour ago.” Then she stood up. “A present for you.”
“Why do I owe the pleasure?” You admired her flawless needlework.
“Because you always save me. You are always there for me. I don’t know how can I ever repay you.”
“You don’t have to, you know I do it cause I love you I’m your friend. But I appreciate the gift though. It is a very fine design.” She flushed, seeing her like this is very cute.
“You think... your brother is going to defeat Lord Stannis?”
“Brave men will fight. I have faith in them and in my uncle’s plan. I-I might... get involved.”
“Is this a bad joke?” She looked at you perplexed.
“I’m afraid is not.”
“Y/N, you could die! You are strong but still too young to go to war. And you are a princess.” Sansa winced. You squeezed gently her arm.
“I won’t die. I heard uncle Renly had in his Kingsguard a female warrior. And what about Visenya Targaryen? She was a fantastic skilled warrior as well. She fought alongside Aegon in his conquest, and in the First Dornish War. Also, she was a dragon rider, she bonded with the one called Vhagar. And had a Valyrian steel longsword named Dark Sister. I wish I had one.” You commented, utterly excited. Sansa didn’t really like the topic but her eyes lighted up every time you talked about something you were passionate about.
“You never cease to amaze me, you know so much about these things. I understand now why Arya and you got along so well.” And it’s true, you wished she was here, you missed the youngest Stark girl running around the castle. “But still, I don’t like the idea of you being out there. It’s too dangerous. You said you weren’t going anywhere.” She mumbled the last sentence.
“Trust me.” You held her hands on your own.
“Just be careful, please. Don’t leave me alone.”
“I will be. And I’ll never leave you.”
You were walking side by side with the King, Varys, and Tyrion on the eastern walls.
“If my uncle Stannis lands on the shores of King’s Landing, I’ll ride out to greet him.” Joffrey smugly spoke.
“A brave choice, your grace. I’m sure your men will line up behind you.” Tyrion subtly jeered.
“They say he never smiles. I’ll give him a red smile from ear to ear.” You rolled your eyes, knowing he wouldn’t stand a chance against him on his own. Lord Varys and your uncle began to converse with each other.
“Hey, Y/N. I heard you want to join us in the fight.” He said in a mocking way.
“You think I’m not capable?”
“Exactly. You are a woman. Not that I really care about what happens to you. You’ll die out there.”
“You have little faith in me, big brother. But still, I’m way better than you in almost everything.” You squinted your lips. “No! In absolutely everything. Don’t worry, I’ll pray for our victory.”
“I already know your whore friend has flowered. I’ll come to visit her right after I kill our uncle.” He hissed and you didn’t punch him right away right there cause you held back your fury. He was provoking you, you would get your knuckles bloody for Sansa if he goes too far.
“...They say he burns his enemies alive to honor the Lord of Light.” You joined the conversation between the two men.
“The Lord of Light wants his enemies burnt. The Drowned God wants them drowned. Why are all the gods such vicious cunts? Where is the god of tits and wine?” Tyrion wittily questioned.
“In the Summer Isles, they worship a fertility goddess with sixteen teats.” Varys responded.
“We should sail there immediately.” You smirked.
“Lord Varys, do you know anything new about the Targaryen girl?" Some nights you wonder, if your father hadn't won the Rebellion she would be here, this would be her home, she was exiled so she could survive, she was forced to marry a savage, her family is dead, the world is such a cruel place... and when you are a helpless girl it gets worse, what if things had turned out differently? And you were the one on the other side of the world, maybe that's one of the main reasons why you sympathized with her.
“This morning, I heard a song all the way from Qarth beyond the Red Waste. Daenerys Targaryen lives.”
“That’s a relief.” You said.
“A relief? She has three dragons. But even if what they say is true, it’ll be years before they are fully grown. And then there will be nowhere to hide.” Varys argued.
“She’s on the edge of the world, the least of our problems.” Uncle Tyrion tried to sound unconcerned.
“Three baby dragons? How is that possible?” They were extinct for almost three hundred years. How she managed to bring them back?
“Princess, do you consider it was wise to let her live? If you knew then what you do now... would you persuade his grace to give the order? She might be a threat soon enough, she will claim the throne-“
“Maybe she’s not interested in it. Not everyone is. Especially the rightful heirs. She did nothing wrong.”
“Yet.”
“I don’t regret my choice. I wouldn’t change it if I could.” You were confident, she’s innocent, one game at the time, you thought. Just because her ancestors were evil doesn’t mean she is evil too.
“You are so selfless, and good. Westeros might need a Queen like you.” Varys remarked.
“I’m no Queen, my Lord.” The throne belongs to you more than to Joffrey that was for sure, but how can you overthrow snakes that know your weaknesses and can use them to sting and hurt you the most?
#game of thrones fic#got#game of thrones imagine#sansa stark x reader#sansa x fem baratheon reader#baratheon reader#house baratheon
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OKAY BUT PICTURE THIS
(it's an OS)
Cersei was more than nervous at this point. Entrench in the deepest of the Red Keep, she couldn’t hear any more the sound of fighting, nor the roaring of those damn dragons. She shivered.
She thought she could defend the city. She thought she could. The Targaryen bitch seemed preoccupied by taking over the North first.
“Let them kill each other.” she thought. Let the Boltons and the rest of the late Stark’s bannermen sacrifice themselves for her and her kingdom. She hoped Tyrion would be caught in the mess and die burning. She hoped his wolf-bitch of a wolf would too, hidden somewhere in a whorehouse.
But something went wrong. The Boltons were dead before the Targaryen touched Westeros’ ground. The Stark bitch had returned to Winterfell.
Some said she appeared from nowhere in the Vale, as if Nature has shielded her for a time, before returning her to the world of men, half-wolf, half-woman.
Some said Littlefinger was hiding her, dying her hair dark, and that she poisoned him, one kiss at the time.
Some said she got help, that a monk, a cripple and a woman protected her and took her back to the North.
Cersei didn’t know what to believe. She didn’t know who to hate, so everyone deserved it now. The bitch took back Winterfell, and the Bolton’s armories were burned to the ground.
But there was nothing to be worried about, she thought. The Starks and the Targaryen girl would fight to their death and she won’t have to do anything about it.
She jumped at the sudden sound of something crashing just above her head. Her hands shaking, she took a sip of wine. The Mountain didn’t move, his dead eyes fixed on the door. She felt reassured by his presence. Her champion. Whoever would come for her, he’ll kill. He’ll kill them all, she thought, all of them, in a blood bath more glorious than any fire.
She drank some more. And then, when all of her enemies will be dead, she’ll rule. She’ll rule this bloodied land, wounded by wolves, and dragons, and snakes, and everything would be alright. And she drank again.
She remembered the letter. “Surrender”. An alliance. Who would have thought ? Wolves and dragons, hand in hand to destroy her. She hoped for a time that one of the two bitches would try to kill the other. But then she heard about the Stark’s bastard, returned from the dead, sharing his couch with the Dragon Queen. She heard about the pardon of the Greyjoys, the eldest daughter leading the biggest army afloat of all time, after slaughtering her uncles, helped by Faceless man. A Faceless man with a face she had long forgotten, a little girl she thought dead.
She heard about Dorne betrayal, letters exchanged in great secret between their slut princess and the Dragon Queen, an army on the move.
In King's Landing, people were roaring : hunger, diseases, death were spreading into those rats’ houses.
No one was to be trusted. Everyone was betraying her. All enemies. Only Ser Gregor was loyal.
The door opened with a loud bang. This was it. In the gloomy light, only one silhouette was standing. Tall, large, he walked to them, slightly limping. As he came closer, she recognized him and a great furor twisted her guts :
-You… You fucking traitor…
He stared at her with a deadly eye. His half-face was terrifyingly ugly, his dark hairs no longer poorly covering it up, as they were attached in a bun.
The Hound. Her fucking dog. He betrayed her son. Would have he been there, none of her children would have died.
He was holding a sword longer than her arms.
-You think yourself a match for your brother, dog ? I’ll take as much pleasure as him to see you roast on a pike.
Gregor’s demeanor had changed, as if, somewhere deep in his dead brain, something clicked seeing his brother. Cersei took a few step back, giggling madly :
-Coming here alone, and with a fucking limp. You think too highly of yourself.
-Two things bitch, he finally spoke. One, I’m not here for you. Two, who says I’m alone ?
And then she saw him. The second silhouette. Thinner, with no limp...and a hand that wasn’t moving.
Her twin walked into the light. Jaime had changed. His gold curls were short, messly cut, and he grew a beard. He was wearing red, but not the Lannister’s. She thought for a second he was here to save her.
That’s what he promised to always do, wasn’t it ? To save her. Protect her, at all cost.
He followed her, when she married Robert. He was there, always. He always came back to her.
His green eyes were sad and angry.
He loved her.
-Jaime...
Lost in a fog she couldn’t get out of, she didn’t register the younger Clegane attacking ferociously his brother. She could only see her own kin walking towards her, his eyes shining as if he was crying.
He loved her.
But she stepped back, her hand losing its grip on her cup who fell loudly on the floor, almost empty. He has a sword at his belt.
He loved her.
She turned back and ran. Stairs. She took them. It was just an indoor balcony. She could see the Cleganes brothers fighting, in a blur. Was she crying ? She felt something grabbing her skirt and she jerked away, tearing the fabric apart.
Jaime wasn’t saying anything, or she couldn’t hear.
But he loved her. Surely he will listen to her despair, he will save her.
-Jaime, you love me ! You always have ! she screamed.
A single tear rolled down his cheek, but he still got closer. She tore her bodice, displaying her white, full breasts :
-Jaime, she cried, I fed our children… Our children, and they took them away ! All of them ! Away !
He stopped.
-Tommen, and Myrcella… They took them ! And Joffrey, our first born, Jaime, they killed him, killed our baby…
But suddenly he was on her. She fought, he fought. Downstairs, they kept fighting as well.
She felt his hands, both his hands, flesh and gold, press on her throat. Breathing was hard.
-They were your children Cersei. Yours and yours only.
The pressure intensified. He loved her. He was crying.
-And I was a fool… I loved you…
He loved her. Surely he will save her from those monstrous hands that kept her from the air.
-I loved you … and you never did…
She couldn’t see anything anymore. He kept pressing, tears streaming down his face, sobs shaking his throat. Her fight was getting less and less fiery.
There was a flame downstairs and the air was suddenly filled with the most inhuman scream he ever heard. But he kept pressing. So hard he felt his gold hand starting to slip from his wrist, detaching itself from him. And as Cersei went limp, her head hanging from her neck at the edge of the balcon, wobbly in the void, his hand fell, and hit the ground just below with a thud. At the exact same time, the screaming stopped and all that was left was a strange echo.
Shaking, Jaime got up and climbed down the stairs. In front of him, Sandor was kneeling beside what looked like a giant torch. He never saw him that close to flames.
As he got closer, he realized his large sword was firmly planted in the fire. And that there was a man burning in it.
What was left of a man.
He put his hand on Sandor’s shoulder. The big man was crying. He looked up at Jaime :
-I... I couldn’t...let him die burning…
Jaime smiled weakly. His gold hand reflected the bright yellow of the fire. He didn’t consider getting it back.
-Get up brother. Let’s leave the monsters here.
#asoiaf#sandor clegane#jaime lannister#cersei lannister#gregor clegane#cleganebowl#Sort of#jaime x cersei#Final battle#Siblings#parallels#Death#Major characters death#Fanfiction#Fic#oneshot#Asoiaf os#sansan#daensa#Sandor x jaime#Bromance#Asoiaf ending#How I would like Cersei and Gregor to die#character study#Queen Sansa#queen daenerys#Mention of#jonerys
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#3 One Flesh, One Heart, One Soul
Brienne has become exceedingly annoyed with him.
It is a little like when they had first met, this antagonism. Except she had despised Jaime then, and he could not arouse any anger in her however he tried. She had remained calmly disdainful that entire journey despite his continued efforts to irritate her.
Now she is vexed. Jaime has succeeded in breaking her composure, nearly without trying, and all he had to do was inform a tavern filled with people that they were married, and convince them to toast his bride and buy them drinks. Drinks that their companions were very appreciative of, mind you. Even Brienne had finished a flagon, her face turned a now-familiar scarlet. She was at first clearly torn between shouting at him and punching him in the face, and settled on glaring daggers and leaving the room without a word to anyone, and now she has ridden ahead to their next destination without him.
Jaime is not nearly so satisfied with this accomplishment as he might have expected. It is a little unnerving actually. Brienne avoiding his gaze and not speaking to him was more troubling than he wanted to admit, but he has never seen her openly angry and it is inexplicably worse. He wasn’t completely sure that was possible.
Even their companions have noticed. The Hound has been clearly amused by the entire situation, and Ser Hyle has been smugly enjoying the deterioration of their relations. Young Podrick had ridden beside Jaime most of the afternoon, and questioned him anxiously.
“Why do you antagonize my lady so, my lord?” Podrick has been unfailingly polite to him thus far, in a way that suggests he is intimidated by him, or more likely by his House. But just now he is worried and protective of his lady knight, as loyal as any squire.
“I don’t know what you mean, Podrick.” He gives the boy only a sidelong glance.
“It upsets her. Ser Lady Brienne. I’ve never seen her like this before.” Pod sits up a little straighter on his little horse and affects a hardened expression. “You should be nicer to her.”
Jaime snorts. The lad is about as threatening as a newborn puppy. “I’m very nice to her. Am I not praising her to everyone we meet?”
Pod screws up his face in frustration. “She doesn’t understand. You’re hurting her.”
He shrugs off these comments; surely the boy has it the wrong way around. He spurs his horse and rides ahead all the way to Ironoaks, and the rough terrain of the rising road successfully occupies his thoughts.
The high road to the Vale is closed by the snows, but they have managed to hug the coast around Wickenden rather than travel through the Mountains of the Moon. It takes weeks longer, and still they have had to fight their way through rising snow. Hopefully their destination is close. Much of the Eyrie court has moved to the Gates of the Moon, and Brienne’s party has heard news of a tourney there to select new members for the Brotherhood of Winged Knights. It is in this direction they ride despite the worsening weather. From there they can cross to the rest of the Vale, if needed.
The village surrounding Ironoaks Castle is quiet and still. Jaime rides through much of it, looking for some central place where he might find Brienne. If she has not decided to ride somewhere else entirely to escape him. But no, she would not leave her squire, and Podrick Payne is hot on his heels even now.
He finds her at a posting in the village square with news of the tourney. She stands enfolded in her heavy travel cloak, her loose blonde hair blowing in the snow, and he dismounts to join her.
Jaime thinks little enough of the Vale Knights - they are confident in their superiority but were no match for his sword when he had two hands. But the conflagration of nobles and knights will surely be an ideal location to learn news of the region, and a safe place to hide from Crown forces. If the Stark girl is indeed in the Vale, she would surely be there.
“I might have competed in this once,” he says by way of greeting as he comes to stand beside her. “Perhaps you might consider it, becoming a winged knight. There are not so many Starks left to serve.”
Brienne does not turn to him. She fairly growls at him, arms crossed beneath her cloak. “I thought you wanted to find your honor? If you are not so distracted by ridiculing me.”
A strange falling sensation fills his stomach. “Oh, so you’re speaking to me now? How nice.”
“Will you stop telling people I am your bride?”
“Why? It’s true.”
“It’s misleading.” She glares at the missive nailed to the wall as if it has attacked her personally. “I never agreed to be anyone’s wife. Must you make this more unpleasant?”
“It’s not unpleasant for me,” he says cheerfully.
“Of course it isn’t.” Brienne lifts her chin and looks at him, and this time it is he who cannot quite meet her eye. “You can amuse yourself as you like, you are not the one who will be considered spoiled afterwards. Your reputation will be pristine when the marriage is undone, but not mine. Even though I spoke no vow, and was not even awake for the ceremony.”
He feels a pang of guilt at that. “It was not my idea either, Brienne. It was a convenience. I know that it was not real, and you did not agree to it.”
“For gods sake let’s keep it quiet then,” she hisses at him. “For the survival of my good name keep your japes to yourself.”
“For your good name, I’ll refrain from sullying it with mine,” he agrees with considerably less cheer.
“Why did you allow it in the first place? I thought you were forbidden to marry, as a Kingsguard…?” Brienne is staring at him most earnestly, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“As it happens, King Tommen has declared me dead and replaced me in the Guard. He did not wait overlong to do it, either. So as dead men have no vows…” he shrugs, with a great deal more indifference than he is feeling.
He hadn’t known that detail at the time, of course. It had most likely happened while they were on the Quiet Isle, and he had learned of it from rumors on the road. But she does not need to know that. Nor does she need to know how hurt he had been, to find himself so easily discarded.
“But what was the purpose? The Quiet Isle would have tended to me just the same. Why -- ?”
How to explain? She doesn’t remember it. She doesn’t remember him holding her belly together as they rode for the Isle. She doesn’t remember screaming in pain in the bed they put her in. How she had thrashed and writhed in it, when they let him look in. They would not let them go to her side, not even young Podrick, who clearly loved her like a mother. Not even him, when he had carried her in pleading for their help, and was still covered in her blood.
How can he explain to her that he tried to tell them no? That he had refused to wed an unconscious woman without her permission? That was when they had shown him, when he had seen her in that bed and wanted to carry her away immediately from that awful room. It stank of sickness, of infection, and she did not belong there. But of course it was coming from her, the sickness was in her and radiating off her in waves. Her skin was grey and damp with sweat and those wounds open to the air were black and dripping with pus. Her face gaped open at her cheek and he could see a flash of muscle tissue through the swelling, the cheek she had always kept covered before. These were old wounds, weeks’ worth of wounds, one on top of another, and worst of all the one to her belly that should have carved out her guts. They had stitched it shut, that one, but it showed no inclination to stay closed. She was shivering, moving in small, restless jerks.
“Can you give her nothing for the pain?” he had demanded of them, but they said the amount they would have to give to touch these wounds, she was unlikely to wake from it. They said it and the monk and his fellow looked at Jaime expectantly, as though they have asked him a question. It takes him too long to realize what the question is.
“If you’re asking,” he said testily, “whether I agree to a mercy killing, I do not. Brienne will live. You will save her life.”
They had looked at one another, grimacing. The monks had explained, one after another, that they could not save her. That her wounds were quite grievous, and quite infected, and the lady was mortally ill. They would be only delaying the inevitable. They thought, after a certain point when they had tired of arguing with him, that it would be selfish to continue.
“When I lost this” -- he had shouted at them, holding up what was left of his right arm -- “and I was burning with infection, wearing my own rotting hand on a chain around my neck and in such unimaginable pain I was pleading to gods I don’t even believe in to put an end to me, Brienne told me to live. She said I must live, and so I did. I would ask no less of her. I don’t care that she is a maid, she is no weaker than I am and has endured far more than most men. She will survive this if we let her. You will give her the chance to, and so help me I will make certain of it. I will burn this monastery down if you don’t.”
But she had writhed. The monks held her arms down firmly against the bed, to keep her from hurting herself or flinging herself off of it. Her entire body seized with pain, silently, an agony too harsh even to allow a cry to escape her lips. It bent her back so that she arched off the bed and her hands formed claws at her sides.
When she relaxed into unconsciousness again, Jaime noticed his lungs screaming at him and remembered to breathe in. He took a harsh gulp of air and held it painfully, his vision blurred.
“Do you see?” The Elder Brother had said then. “Do you understand?”
He had nodded wordlessly. He believed them, that she was dying. Dying by inches and measured breaths, the Stranger’s hand on her shoulder. He never told anyone that, not then and not later, that he had given in. Out loud he had insisted she would live, that they must try. But in that moment, looking at her in the bed, he knew that she was dying and there was nothing he could do to save her. That was why he had agreed to marry her. He could do nothing for her terrible pain but he would not allow her to die alone and scared. He could at least do that.
But she did not die. She did not die, and now she stands before him and she is confused and he does not know what to tell her. She doesn’t remember and there are no words to describe it. It had been agony, that helpless moment looking at her in the bed, and he would have done anything in his power to help her, and so he married her. There is no way to explain that.
Jaime steps closer to Brienne. He has to look decidedly upwards to find her eyes, and has never gotten used to it. His eyeline falls more naturally to her strong jaw, her neck, which he had been so entranced by in the Inn. Her neck, with the fading burn beneath her chin where they had hung her.
He could kiss her. She is unreasonably tall but he could bury his hand in her hair and turn her face down to his. Her mouth is not pretty but her lips are thick and pillowy and would be sweet to taste. He could do it.
“What about this?” he asks instead, suddenly. Jaime brushes his knuckles against it, the mark around her neck where the rope had been. “Why would you let the Brotherhood do this to you?”
Something strange flickers across her face. “I could hardly protest. There were too many.”
He insists. “You could have simply done as they wanted.”
Brienne shakes her head. “It would not have been right. You did not do the things they accused you of, and I would not execute an innocent man.”
Jaime should have been prepared for that answer but he isn’t. For some reason it hits him square in the chest, like a blow.
“Of course,” he says, a little breathlessly. He lets his hand drop back to his side. “You would only do right.”
Of course. Of course that is why. Brienne is good, she is truly good and honorable and she would have done it for anyone. Brienne would do the right thing, and that is that. She is a true knight and he is a damned fool.
He pretends to read the bulletin of the tourney with great interest.
“It was a whim,” he says in answer to her earlier question, and shrugs. “The nuptuals. They said it would be undone, and it took no time at all. Only a few words and it was over.”
“A whim.” She sniffs, and nods harshly.
“They were quite set on having you married, their order. For a lot of unmarried monks they are quite obsessed with it.”
“I see,” she whispers.
***
When he makes the arrangements at the Inn this time, he arranges for the two rooms, but does not mention a wife. He says very little at all, and sets himself in the tavern well apart from the rest of their little party.
Podrick Payne looks between the both of them, Brienne and Jaime, and stays with Brienne.
The Hound, oddly enough, sits next to Jaime, though he offers little in the way of conversation. He makes a pleasant enough drinking companion, in that he signals regularly to the barmaid to replenish their supply, and does not ask any questions.
Ser Hyle sits beside Brienne as she sullenly eats her supper, speaking to her eagerly, probably about their ridiculous situation. He had wanted to be the one to marry her, of course. He had offered it, on the Isle. But Hyle Hunt is a schemer from a minor house and he would wed Brienne for her inheritance and leave her on her deathbed, Jaime thinks. He would not have cared for her the way he had.
I know that it was not real, he had told Brienne.
I truly believe that the ceremony was real and it was sacred, Elder Brother had said.
There was not, in fact, much ceremony at all. He had simply sat beside her on her sickbed. The both of them in the same clothes they had worn before Lady Stoneheart, torn and bloodstained and filthy. They had bound Jaime’s left hand to her right and Elder brother said the words. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Her hand was cold and limp in his but he threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed, hoping somehow she felt it as a comfort. If she was not silently screaming in objection to this farce of a wedding.
He said the words; she could not say them back. I am hers and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days.
They had left him alone with her, with dreamwine and milk of the poppy to ease her passing, and he poured her a finger of the dreamwine, and when much of it dripped out of her mouth he poured her another, but no more. She did not move about so much after that. Then he had crawled into the bed beside her and slipped an arm around her, just above the stitches at her belly, and held onto her as best he could with his handless arm and her wounded from head to toe.
She at least would not die alone, nor lie in an unmarked grave in a strange place. She would not go unremembered. He would make sure of that.
I don’t doubt you would have chosen better, but I will be a good husband to you in what way I can. I will take you to my home at Casterly Rock and make a place for you and a place for me. One day when I die they will lay our bones there together.
But she did not die. She had survived through long nights and days of pain and fever, had survived the monks and their bandages and resetting of bones and scouring of infection, and slowly her wounds had closed and her fever broke and consciousness returned at last, against all odds and expectations.
She had survived and by the Seven, he had been so relieved. Every day since he has been relieved. For the first time perhaps ever his most fervent prayers have been answered. He has lost his mother and his father, become estranged from his brother, separated from the children he had fathered, lost his right hand and his vocation, found that the great love of his life had been an illusion and a lie, but when he had claimed Brienne for his own she had survived.
So if she doesn’t want him for a husband, he surely cannot begrudge her that. He had not prayed for that, had he? He only asked her to live.
He stays in the tavern longer than all the others. Brienne and Podrick and Ser Hyle finish their supper quickly and disappear. The Hound paces him admirably but eventually excuses himself to his bed, with a strangely sympathetic touch on the shoulder.
He must look miserable indeed to earn pity from Sandor Clegane.
It takes a considerable amount of ale to do him any damage, watered-down as it is, but Jamie makes the effort. By the time he wanders upstairs he is weaving in his steps and sure that Brienne will be long asleep, and he is considerably surprised to find her sitting up, fully dressed and waiting for him.
She sits on the foot of the bed, her hands twisting in her lap, and she looks tentative and uncertain. Jaime likes that least of all, this new timidity. It is Brienne being Good again. She treats him as a suitor she is letting down gently, and he thinks that if he is going to be rejected, he might at least have made a real overture first. He has not earned this. This is unfair.
“We must put an end to this marriage,” Brienne says slowly, meeting his eye at last. “I do not like what it has put between us.”
The words stick in his throat awkwardly, though he has thought them often enough. “If we returned to King’s Landing, the Faith could annul it at my request. But I did not think you would want to abandon our search for that.”
“I don’t see much choice.” She wipes the heel of her hand across her face, quickly.
Finally he snaps at her. "Is it so awful, being wed to me? How humiliating for you, married to the most dishonorable man in Westeros. You must be suffering intolerably.”
Her mouth twists. “If you were not the loudest man in Westeros, it would not be so bad. If you did not insist on embarrassing me--”
"I didn’t realize I was to be a shameful secret for you to keep. If it embarrasses you, I will not speak of it But tell me, if you are so distressed, why didn’t you ask your Elder Brother to dissolve this farce?"
"I did," she replies sullenly.
Oh, he thinks. And then: Oh. Of course she did.
"I suppose he told you the same thing he told me then." His face is grown hot again, as if held to a fire, and he spits out the words as though they burn. "That it would be dissolved if left unconsummated at year's end. So there is your freedom if you can stand the wait."
"I can endure your japes if there will be an end to them." She hunches over strangely, her shoulders up nearly to her ears. 'i know that you would never touch me."
"Certainly not. I am a gentleman."
She looks up, suddenly fierce. "Sleep you in the other room then, so that there is no mistake. Our companions must support our claim that we do not share a bed."
"Fine," he says before he has quite thought about it, and storms out into hall, slamming the door behind him.
He stands frozen in the hall staring at the wall in front of him, until he hears footsteps behind him. Cautious footsteps.
He listens closely to them, imagining their maker, how carefully she steps so that he will not hear. She will open the door at any moment, to be sure he is gone, and he should move quickly into the other room they have rented but he is frozen in place. For some reason or other, he wants her to see him there.
But she does not open the door. Instead he hears the lock clicking into place behind him, sealing him out.
Click.
At this he immediately breezes into the adjoining room, startling awake their companions with some story of being locked out of his room after visiting extensively with the bar patrons.
"I knew you'd fuck it up," Ser Hyle says derisively from his pallet on the floor, and Podrick evinces a small giggle, and Jaime curses them all to the darkest of the seven hells and claims a chair for his bed.
He sleeps fitfully against his fist, and he does not think of his wife asleep alone in the next room behind a locked door and it does not hurt at all, it doesn't, it doesn't.
#From This Day Until the End of My Days#whoops now it's sad#my emotionally constipated warrior babies#tumblr fic
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The Chosen One
Written for day 2 of @jonsa-week based on the prompt: Quotes OR Colors OR Tropes
Sansa is trying to convince Jon that he must be the one who was promised in the prophecies. Jon is trying to convince Sansa that as long as people like Robb and Jaime exist a bastard like him can't be that important.
Magic School AU
“No, I won’t do it.” Jon shook his head and he crossed his arms firmly over his chest. “I’m not gonna believe in that stupid prophecy stuff.”
Sansa rolled her eyes and she slammed the book on the wooden table they were sharing. A layer of dust flew Jon’s way however and his loud sneeze echoed through the library.
For the last half an hour Sansa had been trying to convince him that he was the prince who was promised, the chosen one, the only one who could defeat the night king and his army of the death.
And for the last half an hour Jon was trying to explain that if he was the chosen one the Westeros Academy for the Young and Gifted was doomed. Because why would anyone make him the hero when there were also Robb Starks and Jaime Lannisters in this world? Why would an orphan like himself, who could only attend this academy because his Uncle Ned Stark had sponsored this library, be their destined saviour?
“Come on, Jon!” Sansa let out a deep sigh and she opened the book again on that same old wrinkled page. She had underlined some sentences and marked some others and in the margin she had written loads of unreadable things.
Jon was quite certain all of that counted as damaging school stuff, but Sansa would most likely tell him that since her father had paid for this library, these books were also a little bit from her. So, he kept his mouth shut.
“It can only be you!” Sansa pointed at the words he knew all too well right now. “You’re born from death, because aunt Lyanna died giving birth to you.” She made it sound like a throwaway line, but Jon closed his eyes to silence the voices in his head.
Countless of therapists had told him that his mother’s death was not his fault, that he couldn’t blame himself for it. But that was so much easier said than done. He knew he had only been a baby then and didn’t know that his birth would kill her. But knowing and feeling were two entirely different things apparently.
“You have fire in your veins, because of the Targaryen blood you got from your father.” Sansa didn’t even seem to notice Jon’s discomfort while she summarised the prophecy and his sad and miserable life.
Those same therapists had also told him that there was no need be afraid of the famous Targaryen curse, assuring him that if he had inherited his family’s madness that had lead to his grandfather’s dead he would have known by now. But not one of those therapists had ever met a Targaryen and their entire opinion was based on nothing but the stories they read in their study books. And everyone knew that not every story in a book was true.
“Are you still listening?” Sansa elbowed him and Jon furrowed his eyebrows.
“I’m not the one from the prophecy.” Jon shook his head once more and he leaned back in his chair. “Your brother is a much better man than I’ll ever be. Everyone says it and you know it’s true.” His lips formed a straight line. “And Jaime is the best sword fighter in the entire realm. If anyone can beat this night king it’s him.”
Sansa closed the book and stared at him. For the first time in half an hour she kept silent. She just stared at him, with those piercing blue eyes. “I know that everyone says Robb is the better man. But I’m not sure sure they’re right.”
Jon widened his eyes. “You’re not sure?”
Sansa cocked her head. “I think they all overlook your qualities because you are very good at hiding behind my brother. You’ve made yourself quite comfortable in his shadow, but honestly, I don’t think that’s where you belong.”
“You’re trying to trick me into this whole chosen one thing, aren’t you?” Jon rolled his eyes.
Sansa had always been a dreamer. Until she could read herself she had begged whoever was around to read her stories to her. And sometimes Jon wasn’t entirely sure if she could tell fact from fiction. It was maybe one of the personality traits he liked most in her. Her faith in heroes and princes and happy endings. Her hope that even though the world seemed dark and mean and cruel, it was still worth fighting for.
“I’m not trying to trick you into anything!” Sansa raised her voice. “Can you just stop thinking so low of yourself for a second?” She reached for his hand. “You’re kind. You fight for those who can’t fight for themselves and you always believe in people being good until proven otherwise.”
“That’s not…”
Sansa didn’t let him finish his sentence. “You are also never afraid to get your hands dirty and work hard. You will never ask someone else to do something you’re not willing to do yourself.”
Jon closed his eyes. “San…”
“And you don’t want power. You don’t want to be a leader or famous. You don’t want to wear a crown. You just want to do what’s right and good.”
Even if he wanted any of that, he would never get it anyway. His was an orphan, a bastard, the result of a stupid infatuation from a married man with a young and naive girl. And everyone knew it.
“I know you’re into all this hero stuff. But don’t you think you’ve read too many stories? You’re trying to make me into something I’m very clearly not.” Jon spoke softly and he bent his head. “You just want me to be a hero, a knight in shining armour, a Prince Charming.”
Sansa chuckled. “You think I want you to be the chosen one?” She raised her eyebrows. “Your really think I just like the thought of you fighting in the biggest war our realm has ever known? You truly believe that I’m okay with you being the only one who can kill this night king and his army?” She paused for a short moment and her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. “Jon…” She reached for his hands again and grabbed them tightly. “I like the idea of you being the chosen one just as much as you do.” She moved a little closer towards him. “Because I know that prophecies never guarantee that its heroes survive the battle and I don’t want you to die.” She licked her red lips. “Because if I lose you…” She hesitated. “My heart will shatter and I don’t think anyone will ever be able to heal it.”
Jon blinked a few times and just stared at her.
Sansa Stark would be heartbroken if he died? Sansa Stark couldn’t bear the thought of losing him?
“What do you mean with all that?” Jon swallowed.
“I’m in love with you, dumbass.” Sansa almost screamed the words and everyone in the library turned their heads to look at her. “I love you. And I don’t want you to be the chosen one. But I still think you are.”
For a second Jon didn’t know what to say.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that…” Sansa bent her head, but quickly Jon freed a hand and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
“No, it’s okay, it’s just…” He shook his head. “I love you for years already and I never thought you’d…”
Sansa pushed herself up and her soft lips kissed his. The kiss was hesitant at first, but then Jon wrapped his arms around her and he opened his mouth to let her tongue in.
He didn’t care that this was a library. He didn’t care that everyone was watching. He didn’t care that people would frown upon their romance. He just knew one thing for sure now.
He pulled back to take a deep breath. “Damn, now I have even more reasons to not want to be that chosen one.”
“Maybe you’re not.” Sansa kissed him again. “You know what? Let’s just pretend you’re not.” Her mouth found his again. “Until we no longer can.”
Jon smiled hoping and praying that Sansa was wrong and that they would get their happily ever after without him having to save the world first.
But Sansa was rarely wrong about anything.
And they both knew it.
#jonsaweek#jonsa#jon snow#Sansa Stark#game of thrones#got#got fanfiction#game of thrones fanfiction#sansa stark fanfiction#jon snow fanfiction#jonsa fanfiction#day 2: Tropes#alternate universe
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I’ve talked a lot about this long fic I’m working on this month, and I finally got started yesterday and have already churned out a pretty decent amount! I’m like 6 chapters deep, and I wanted to share the first one, both because I kind of like it and because I want to post something this weekend.
I have no idea what this is going to end up being called. Currently in my draft it’s The Return of the Wolf, but that’s going to change. It’ll be Jaime/Brienne, Robb/Dany, and Jon/Sansa when it’s done! With probably a bit of Arya/Gendry as well!
Hopefully putting it under the cut here...
Jaime I
She is still in here somewhere.
Jaime refuses to run, knowing that it would draw the more obsequious of his men to him like large metal moths, looking for a chance to win the favor of their one-handed commander. He keeps his expression level, and he walks as quickly as he dares past his men and through the underbelly of Riverrun. There are shouts from deeper in the tunnel, and he follows them. The clash of swords. His stomach tightens. So much for a peaceful surrender. He runs anyway.
She is still in here somewhere, and he must make sure that she gets safely away. She cannot linger here once the Lannister forces have taken the castle, and he knows that she will linger if Tully gives some fool, impassioned speech about honor and duty, because the stubborn woman is too honorable by half, and she will be moved by the old man’s courage, and she will be killed by the old man’s courage.
He cannot allow it.
He scarcely knows why. He warned her. He all but begged her, but of course she didn’t listen. She never has. Even when they grew something of a respect for each other, she was always so sure she knew better than him. Well, this is what happens. She gets herself caught in a siege she should be far away from, and here he is, trying to clean up the mess.
The mess. The Lannisters are the mess. The Lannisters and the Freys, stealing the ancestral home of the Tullys from Brynden Blackfish, who has long been a hero of Jaime’s. How did it come to this? How did he let it come to this? He thought he could be better, once. Why did he stop trying?
He increases his pace as he ducks his head past a wooden beam and finds himself in a rocky tunnel. There is a dead man at his feet. Lannister armor. Another up ahead. Jaime trips past them, his golden hand loud and cumbersome along the rock wall as he places it there for balance, stumbling as the shadows mess with his perception. Ah. Another dead man, just ahead. He wonders which of them killed him. Not that it matters. He’s seen Brienne take down three men before. She hardly broke a sweat.
He rounds a corner, and at last he sees her. She looks bigger than ever. Her frame takes up most of the tunnel the same way it took up most of his pavilion and left it feeling empty when she was gone. She’s speaking urgently to the Blackfish. Tugging on his arm. The fool woman is trying to get him to abandon the castle. Jaime sighs, and Brienne and the Blackfish both look in his direction. Mostly impassive, both of them, but he can see that one is surprised. Heartbroken to see his left hand near his sword.
He hadn’t actually intended to draw it, but Brienne steps before the Blackfish and pulls her own. Oathkeeper, he thinks. Yes, and she means to keep my oaths for me, if I’m too much a Lannister to keep them myself. Even if it means running a sword through my gut.
“What are you doing?” he asks her.
“Ser Jaime, please,” she says, and she sets her stance wider.
“I will not surrender,” the Blackfish says, behind her.
“I was speaking to the lady,” Jaime replies, trying for sarcastic, trying to pretend that the daggers the Blackfish glares in his direction aren’t piercing. There is sweat on his brow; it trickles down his temple. He dares not wipe it away. “Lady Brienne, I cannot allow you to take him.”
“And I cannot allow you to stop me,” Brienne replies. “I told you it might come to this.”
Jaime continues to move closer. He still doesn’t draw his sword. Could he draw against Brienne? He hardly knows. Perhaps, if it came to it. He’d like to at least die with sword in hand, if only to spare the poor girl the trauma of striking down an unarmed man she once may have thought of fondly, despite all his many faults.
“And I told you that I hoped it wouldn’t,” he says softly. Brienne’s sword does not waver, but her expression does. He meets her eyes.
“It doesn’t have to,” she says.
“My lady,” the Blackfish warns her gently, still close behind her. “We must go.”
“Uncle.”
Jaime’s eyes leave Brienne’s for long enough to see the figure that appears in the tunnel behind her. It’s impossible, yet Jaime would know the boy anywhere. He spent a year chained in his camp, visited periodically by the King in the North, with his great grey beast beside him. Jaime did his best to comfort Brienne when they received word on the road that the idiot boy had died with his mother and wife at that cursed wedding, but he hadn’t exactly mourned the loss himself. He heard tales from the Freys. Bragging, endless tales about cutting the boy’s head from his body and sewing his wolf’s on in its stead. Something that made Tywin laugh and made Cersei smile and made Tyrion wince and made Jaime try to think of nicer things so he didn’t have to imagine it.
“No,” he says, forgetting to be calm or wry or amused or whatever it was he was trying to go for here. “Brienne…”
He can hear the songs now. The Return of the Wolf. The Young Wolf Rises. Triumphant stories of the boy who never lost a battle but who lost the war for love, born again to take revenge. Sentiment has already turned against the Lannisters. Cersei may not want to hear it, but their son holds to his throne only through what remains of the realm’s fear of their father. When the smallfolk hear that Robb Stark has risen again…
“Get in the boat,” Brienne says over her shoulder. “I’ll keep him.”
“We cannot wait forever,” Robb warns her. Jaime can’t stop looking at him, hoping to see an illusion. A trick. This is some Tully cousin they hope to use as a decoy. Some trick to win favor in the war the Starks are fighting against the Boltons.
No. Stark turns his poisonous glare in Jaime’s direction, and it’s him. He is so much his mother and father at once. Jaime has felt the force of that glare many times in his life, but it is perhaps more potent now, with Brienne standing between them.
“It won’t take long,” Brienne says, and both men vanish into the darkness behind her. Jaime had begun to advance again, but he stops when she speaks the words. He wants to feel betrayed. He wants to say Brienne in a hurt, small voice, like a much younger man. A child asking for answers the Septon can’t give. Why?
“I must warn you I’ve been practicing,” he says instead. Brienne’s eyes close for an instant, but then they open again, made glimmering and orange by the torchlight. It used to strike him as funny that she could be so much a maiden in the body she had been given. A soft heart beneath muscles and a massive height. Some cruelty of the gods made her fall in love with poor, dead Renly, and they made her too much man for most but not man enough to secure the heart of the one she wanted. He doesn’t think it’s funny anymore.
“As have I,” she says. Her maiden’s heart is breaking. Jaime steps closer. His left hand still holds the sword, but he doesn’t draw it. She meets his eyes, and her chin raises as she looks at him.
“You’d do it, wouldn’t you?” he asks. He can hear the Blackfish barking orders at someone down at the water’s edge, and he suddenly wants her on it. Away from him. Away from his family. Take the bloody Stark boy and go, he wants to shout, but he doesn’t. His voice is very quiet. He doesn’t know he can shout, now. He is oddly breathless, oddly removed. “For the Starks, you would strike me down. Kill me as you killed Renly.”
“I didn’t kill Renly,” Brienne says. She tilts her head slightly. “Stannis did that. And I killed Stannis.”
A boast from anyone else. From her, it’s a warning. A reminder that he struggled to fight her even when he had two hands—the irons and the year of captivity were bad, but they weren’t a maimed sword hand. If he tried to fight her now, she’d cut through him like wet sand. The best he could hope for would be delaying the inevitable until his men could come to his aid, but then he would have to take her in, and Cersei would…
No. He shoves Widows Wail back into place, and he takes a demonstrative step back.
“You would have done it,” he says. Brienne slides Oathkeeper back into place with a look that’s warning. Almost afraid.
“Yes,” she says.
“Good,” he replies. “Now go. Before my men realize you’ve taken the most valuable political prisoner we had and one we didn’t even know existed.”
There is still a glimmer in Brienne’s eyes as she nods and turns to go, but he also catches the slight edge of a smile. The slight upturn of her lips. She thinks he has done a good and honorable thing, of course. She always thinks the best of him. He wishes she wouldn’t. It would be so much safer for her if she realized how wretched he has become.
He follows her at a distance. Brienne settles into the boat. Her squire is there, he sees. At least she listened to him about that. The Blackfish and Robb Stark are there too. If Cersei knew what Jaime let slip away…
He raises his golden hand when Brienne turns back to look, when they have already begun to melt away into the fog. Brienne hesitates, but then she raises her hand as well. He stands and watches until they’re gone.
Next time, he won’t be so lucky. Cersei is always calling him a fool, and perhaps she’s right. He was a fool to think he could simply meet Brienne of Tarth as friends. The honorable woman and her absurd fondness for the oathbreaker. As long as he continues to stand against the family she swore herself to, she will continue to stand against him.
It would have destroyed her to kill him. But she would have done it, and he would have deserved it. Perhaps she wouldn’t have felt honorable to do it, but she would have been. The Kingslayer slayed at last by a woman as virtuous as she is ugly. The songs would last for a thousand years, and the singers would never know how either of them truly felt for each other.
He returns to his men. He says nothing of Brienne, nor of the Blackfish. He accepts the news of Tully’s escape with an incline of his head and some wry comment about Tully being a sly old man.
In the morning, they will begin the return trip towards Kings Landing. Towards Cersei. And he will pretend that he is as eager to get back to her as he was only hours ago.
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Abandoned PT 2
Imagine: being the last surviving Lannister child and arriving at Winterfell with your father, Jaime.
Part One
Winterfell looked different.
Your beautiful dappled coat mare trotted beside your father’s horse; people hurried around not taking any notice of you or your father. The both of you had been traveling almost non-stop for a few weeks and had barely made it to Winterfell before nightfall today. It saddened you to feel the sadness seeping through this homely castle. You no longer heard direwolves howling or children laughing...time had not been kind to Winterfell.
Your father hitched his horse first before grabbing the reins of yours and hitching it as well. You fluidly dismounted your horse and praised her gently. Your father gazed around and unbeknownst to you, your father looked upon a boy in a wheelchair...and his eyes widened.
“Father?” You turned around oblivious.
Your eyes followed path until they reached a young man in a wheelchair. “Bran,” You breathed softly and your eyes softened considerably. He had grown so much since you last saw him...he had been unconscious after your father pushed him off the window ledge. You hadn’t known that your father had pushed him at the time, but mourned the little boy. Little Bran had been so joyous and free but now, you stare at Bran and see a young man with a blank look on his face.
He must’ve gone through suffering--No Stark was left untouched by it.
“Bran,” You repeated his name quietly and his blank eyes left your father’s shocked ones and focused onto you.
The curve of his lips lifted upwards, “Y/N Lannister,” His voice was very bland, “It’s nice to see you again.” Bran spoke as snow fell around the trio.
Jaime looked disturbed and with good reason.
You hurriedly went over to Bran and gave him a tight hug, “You look well,” You whispered feeling his skin icy, “Shall I bring you inside? You feel cold?” You questioned as you pulled back. Who had left him out here in the cold? “You could get sick, ya know.” You chastised him with a light frown.
Bran gazed at you blankly, “Still the same,” Bran stated strangely, “Good,” Bran nodded as if confirming something to himself before responding to you, “I’ll need to inform Jon and the Queen about your arrival,” He cocked his head to the side, “Your father won’t receive a warm welcome, I’m afraid.”
You exhaled noisily, “I know,” You went behind Bran and gripped the handles of his wheelchair, “Shall we get this over with then?” The Dragon Queen hadn’t taken your presence well last time you were in her presence, but you knew Jon would defend you.
You wheeled Bran and followed his directions to the great room; your father trailed behind wordlessly. It didn’t take long for word to spread that two Lannister’s had arrived and who they were. Only a few minutes had passed when Bran sent someone to inform Jon about the arrival of you and your father, the great room was already packed with cold faces--some new, some familiar to you.
You felt great relief and warmth seeing Sansa--after so many years. Her cold eyes met yours and you waited with bated breath for her reaction. She peered at you and gave the briefest of smiles….the same smiles you would give her when she was young and held hostage in King’s Landing. You had always tried your best to protect her...though most times you failed.
Queen Daenerys began to speak as everyone was seated and only silenced was in the room. You stood beside your father, refusing to sit. “When I was a child, my brother would tell me a bedtime story,” She began; her voice echoed through the stone walls, “about the man who murdered our father,” Your father didn’t flinch at her cold words, “who stabbed him in the back and cut his throat, who sat down on the Iron Throne and watched as his blood poured onto the floor,”
Your father stared at the Queen with unforgiving eyes, “He told me other stories as well. About all the things we would do to that man once we took back the Seven Kingdoms and had him in our grasp,” You held your tongue tightly not wanting to remind the Queen about all the horrors her bloody father had committed. You saw the look Jon sent you and almost sighed.
“Your sister pledged to send her army north.” Daenerys stated.
“She did,” Jaime answered.
“I don’t see an army.” Daenerys stated obviously with anger, “I see one man, with one hand and his one daughter,” Daenerys met your eyes with some emotion, “It appears your sister lied to me.”
You saw your Uncle glance at you with worried eyes. You met his gaze and gave a light shrug. Tyrion shouldn’t have believed your mother, hell, you felt foolish that you had believed her too. Your father exhaled, “She lied to me as well,” He shook his head with a sad look, “She never had any intention of sending her army north,” You watched as the Dragon Queen looks at your Uncle, she gave him quite an ugly look, “She has Euron Greyjoy’s fleet and twenty thousand fresh troops. The Golden Company from Essos, bought and paid for.”
“Even if we defeat the dead, she’ll have more than enough to destroy the survivors.” Jaime told the Dragon Queen.
“We?” Daenerys repeated sharply.
Your father didn’t break a sweat, “I promised to fight for the living, I intend to keep that promise.” Daenerys looked irritated and it was obvious to everyone.
“Your Grace, I know my brother--” Tyrion attempted to cut him.
“Like you knew your sister?” Daenerys replied scathingly.
It shut your Uncle up instantly for a moment before Tyrion continued, “He came here, knowing full well how he’d be received. Why would he do that if he weren’t telling the truth?”
Daenerys didn’t miss a beat, “Perhaps he trusts his little brother to defend him, right up to the moment he slits my throat.” Well, this was looking rather grim. You weren’t sure if you should even intervene. You had a loud, unfiltered mouth but you certainly knew when and when not to use ut.
“You’re right,” A new voice spoke up, “We can’t trust him,” All eyes were fixated on the Lady of Winterfell, Sansa Stark, “He attack my father in the streets, he tried to destroy my house and my family, the same as he did yours.” Daenerys looked surprised by Sansa agreeing with her--had there been conflict between the two women?
“Do you want me to apologize?” Jaime demanded angrily, “I won’t,” Sansa cocked her head to the side in a challenging manner, “We were at war, everything I did, I did for my house and my family. I’d do it all again.” You rolled your eyes and scoffed silently at your father--he wasn’t helping his cause.
“The things we do for love,” Bran spoke up plainly.
Slowly, everyone looked at the Crippled with confused eyes. Your father though had a look of horror on his face that you didn’t understand. Daenerys looked back to your father ignoring Bran’s strange words, “So why have you abandoned your house and family now?”
Jaime glanced at you and you stare at him with wide eyes, “Because this goes beyond loyalty,” Jaime looked back to the Dragon Queen and found her staring at you, “This is about survival.” Jaime says quietly making his words clear; you were his reason for coming. He wanted to give you the best possible outcome for living a better life than the one he had lived or your mother.
It was then that Brienne of Tarth stood up and spoke eloquently, “You don’t know me well, Your Grace,” Daenerys heated glare went from your father onto Brienne who stood on your father’s other side, “But I know Ser Jaime.” Favorably, Brienne’s words reached Sansa who suggested Jaime stay and Jon, when asked from Daenerys what was his thought, vaguely agreed. You noticed Jon seemed...unfocused and there seemed to be conflict between him and the Queen.
Daenerys reluctantly allowed your father to stay and while Tyrion had a look of relief, Daenerys focused on you now, “And what of your daughter, Ser Jaime?”
Your father was quick to step in front of you, “I thought it be best she come along--”
“I can speak for myself, father,” You stepped around your father elegantly and faced the Dragon Queen once more, “Your Grace,” You bowed your head, “It seems you still have some caution towards me and though understandable, I am not a threat.”
“You’re a Lannister,” Daenerys narrowed her eyes at you, “You are a threat.”
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “Contrary to my blood, I am quite fond of the Starks and Winterfell,” You spoke loudly not missing a beat, “I hold much love for Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, and Bran Stark. I would do nothing to betray them. My father has no care for the Starks but I do and if given the chance, I’d give my life for them.”
Daenerys appears confused, “Why? Do you have no loyalty to your house?”
“Fuck my house,” People gasped and you were sure you heard Tyrion groan very softly but Sansa seemed to smile as did Jon, “Look how bloody well everything turned out for them,” You dragged out a sigh, “Our house sigil should be a snake than a lion,” You muttered before looking at the Queen, “My house is nothing but shit and should I have the option of choosing my house, I’d chose any other.”
Daenerys eventually nodded and glanced at her general, whom in return gave your father his sword back. The meeting had ended though Daenerys didn’t look too happy about letting your father stay. “Lady Y/N?” Sansa called your name.
You looked at her and smiled, “My Lady?”
“Would you accompany me to the Godswood?” You did not miss the look Daenerys gave the both of you.
You nodded, “Of course, My Lady,” You glanced at your father, “Try not to get killed while I’m away.”
Your father smiles, “I’ll be with your Uncle.”
You and Sansa exited the room. It was a quiet walk to the Godswood, mostly because you were looking at this strange, new Winterfell with wide eyes. It looked so different...as you had said before...Time had not been kind to Winterfell. Sansa was observant of you; as she should be. Though Sansa was the tiniest bit wary of you, she knew she could trust you.
You took much of Joffrey’s anger whenever he was attempting to torment Sansa; you were brave in the face of a King who’d strike down his older sister. “You look beautiful,” You commented eventually with a smile as the two of you reached the Godswood, “Ah, I remember coming here to get away from my family...You’d always be here with Lady.” You murmured glancing up at the marvelous white tree.
“I remember watching you run around with the direwolves and your mother being so angry at you,” Sansa smiled softly at the memory, “Robert Baratheon joked about you having wolfblood in you than lion blood.”
“I’m sure you don’t want to hear it but...I am sorry for what my family’s put you through,” You tell her gently and grasp her cold hands in yours, “What they put your family through...that’s why I found myself hating my house...I wish I could’ve been born a Stark.” You say with light humor.
Sansa chuckled, “You would’ve made a good Stark.”
You smiled more but it faltered, “I see some discord between you and the Dragon Queen, what to tell me about it?”
Sansa sighed with some annoyance, “The Northerners worked hard to take back the North...After, losing Robb and My mother at the Red Wedding and fighting to take my home back from the Boltons, it is too much work for me to give Daenerys,” Sansa answered and you nodded in understanding, “She expects loyalty from us.”
You snort lightly, “The Northerners are stubborn,” You say with a smile, “Too much Northerner blood has been spilt to just blindly give to another self-proclaimed Queen.”
“And Jon’s practically in love with her.”
“Yeah, that I did realize when I met with the group back in the South,” You rolled your eyes, “She’ll learn the hard way that she must earn our respect before she can simply demand our loyalty.”
“She won’t.” Sansa muttered darkly.
“Perhaps, if you spoke to her?” You asked.
Sansa peered at you, “Perhaps.” And that was the end of that conversation. Sansa and You had more pleasant talk as you both walked around the Godswood. You felt more at home in Winterfell than you ever did in King’s Landing. “Are you sure you want to stay here, even after the wars?” Sansa looked at you wide eyed.
You gave a nod, “If you would have me, my Lady.”
Sansa rolls her eyes, “You know, we’d be happy to have you.”
“I doubt my mother will be alive after Daenerys gets of ahold of her and my father...well, I see him eyeing Brienne.” You nudged Sansa’s shoulder, “I think my father fancies your Knight.”
Sansa grins, “And I think Brienne fancies your father.”
“I just hope he doesn’t screw it up,” You say, “My father can be an idiot sometimes, but he usually has his heart in a good place, well, recently anyway.”
“We’ll see.”
“Hey, what’s wrong with Bran?” You suddenly asked.
Sansa sighs, “Long story.”
Yikes, what a boring imagine. Anyway, the next one will be when Jaime leaves to go back to Cersei and man, I have some serious angst being thrown in! I don’t blame you if you didn’t like this one because I don’t, lmao.
#game of thrones#game of thrones imagine#Sansa Stark#bran stark#jon snow#daenerys targaryen#Jaime Lannister#Cersei Lannister#Tyrion Lannister#reader insert#imagine
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Blood of the Dragon ch.4
Summary: Jaime comes back to Kattegat with shocking news and Bjorn plans to go on a raid in search of his father and Yidu.The boys give her gifts, one that shocks Hvitserk and Sigurd.
Warnings: arguments, violence, abandonment, fluff
A/N: Holy cow thanks so much for reading and your feedback! You guys are awesome! Also, I do ship Rhaegar x Cersei. They’re a couple in my other story too and Cersei has a son in here from Robert Baratheon and my other one. Sorry to those who don’t ship them but I wanted my girl Elia Martell to Rest In Peace. Don’t worry Cersei x Jaime don’t have a relationship here. Also, just a heads up, when I’m finished with this story I’ll be writing Vikings and Game of Thrones imagines/one-shots so send in your requests! The next chapter is going to be very long so bear with me, my children.
Freyja stared at the man who was talking to Björn. He was very much different from her world, well her Norse one that is. His hair was impossibly soft and golden like fine gold, eyes as green as one of her jewels, tall like Björn and looked just as strong. His armor so shiny and clean she could see her reflection on it. He looked like one of the English knights from the stories Kraka used to tell them when they were children but more handsome and cleaner and when the wind picked up his scent he smelled like perfume. Yet what took her breath away was the golden sword strapped against his hip. His accent was the same one as Athelstan if not more smooth and posh.
What worried her more was Ragnar. If the war ended six years ago, what happened to him? She had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that Freyja couldn’t deny. Bitterness pooled her tongue just thinking of all the horrible things that must have happened. Freyja needed to speak to Lagertha and maybe they could sacrifice a goat for the gods or go to Uppsala. She was so desperate she even wanted to go to Athelstan and pray to his God. Even the Seer might have answers, still, Freyja straightened her back and blinked away the tiny tears that were forming. She couldn’t show this man weakness. She had to be brave.
Björn stepped aside and both men turned to her. Freyja could see the hurt on her Bear’s face and she instantly panicked. “Come, little princess, I want you to meet someone”
With shaky legs, Freyja did as she was told. Both men towered over her but the knight knelt, his green eyes full of sympathy and kindness for her. “Hello Princess, I am Ser Jaime Lannister. Björn was telling me he told you the truth and all of it is true” Freyja glanced at Björn and he nodded sadly. “Your father, King Rhaegar, has remarried. My sister is your stepmother” Freyja wanted to be sick. She looked over Jaime’s shoulder and thought about breaking into a run but Björn gripped her shoulder before she could bolt and she knew she wasn’t going anywhere soon.
“Are you here to take me, home uncle?” Freyja’s heart was pounding against her chest. ‘Please say no. I cannot go home yet’.
Jaime smiled and took her hand and shook his head, “Your father has given me no such order. Don’t worry little dove I’m not here to take you anywhere you don’t want to go”
Freyja relaxed. She liked him already but Bjorn wasn’t having it. He pulled her away from Uncle Jaime and put his arm around her. “Why are you here then Lannister?”
The knight rose and gave him that cold look again. “I’m here because His Grace told me to. He wanted me personally to give you the news instead of sending a raven”
Bjorn scratched his beard, thinking. If his father disappeared sometime during the war then their men disappeared too. They needed to speak to his Mother and Lagertha, he wasn’t sure how the women were going to take it. Freyja did her best to hide the fear on her face, Ragnar was out there lost and Yidu was with him.
Lagertha never wanted to meet Jaime Lannister, the man Bjorn had told her about many years ago when he came to deliver Rhaegar’s letter asking for help but when she saw him walking with her son and Freyja she knew there was something wrong. Nothing good could come out of this visit. They were introduced by Bjorn and Lagertha sucked in her breath when Ser Jaime told her he had harsh news about her ex-husband. He was invited inside the Great Hall and a meeting with her, Bjorn, Athelstan, Aslaug, Ubbe, and the Knight was held. The younger children wouldn’t hear this but Freyja would tell them anyway. Sigurd held her hand as the four of them walked into the woods while Ivar watched enviously as he fought to keep up with them by crawling. Hvitserk was telling her a story about how he tripped on a bog and she laughed. Sigurd blushed when she did and Hvitserk smirked victoriously. All three of them had a gift to give her and Freyja had a piece of not so good news to tell them. They stopped walking as they reached a beautiful grassy clearing, only surrounded by trees that made the sun dance. Freyja shivered and snuggled into her mantle, she sat sidesaddle with her hand fixing her bootstrap. The boys took a sit and gave each other nervous looks like they did when she caught them talking about marriage.
As the oldest brother Hvitserk spoke first, “We have gifts for you” Of course they did! This had to be as some sort of bribe. “I want to give you mine first”
His brothers weren’t too happy about that and Ivar lashed out, “Why you? Why not draw sticks and see who wins?”
“Because I’m the oldest and I said so!” Hvitserk got up and disappeared behind the trees before his little brothers could protest, Freyja swore she heard a little whimper and Hvitty shushed whatever he had. They eyed him curiously as he turned back around with a bundle of rags in his arms, she cocked an eyebrow at him he was grinning so hard his face hurt.
“What will you be giving me, Hvitty? A baby?”
His brothers whistled and he blushed. “No my dear Valkyrie but something you might love like a child” he unwrapped the bundle and Freyja was met with a pair of golden eyes. Freyja unwrapped it more now eager to see, why it was a wolf! She gasped and took the pup from Hvitserk’s arms lifting it up so she could meet eye to eye and saw it was a boy. He licked her nose and she giggled. The wolf wagged his tail. Freyja was immediately in love with him! Something about him reminded her of her real home.
“Where did you find him?” She snuggled the pup against her chest and covered him against the cold. “I love him so much already”
“A white direwolf that was roaming around her was pregnant. Sadly all of her pups were stillborn except for this one. I was there when she gave birth and I had to cut her to get him out” He explained reaching to touch a little ear. “Athelstan has been caring for him and when I asked what to give you he said the pup”
Her gentle Athelstan. Freyja would have to visit him and thank him with all her heart in person.
“My turn” Sigurd said and reached into his pocket. Freyja hugged the wold pup, she needed a name for him. Sigurd took out a small red velvet sack took out a gold ring with a red ruby encrusted with diamonds around it. Freyja gasped so loud she startled her pup. “For you my Goddess” he took her hand and slipped the ring on her marriage finger. Hvitserk and Ivar were not pleased.
“How did you get that ring?” Ivar asked with a scowl on his face.
“Where did you get the gold coins to buy it?” Hvitserk reached for the ring but Freyja pulled away quickly covering her hand.
“That’s a discussion for another time. Sig I love it so much, thank you”
Now Ivar felt self-conscious. His brothers' gifts had taken her breath away, he didn’t know how she was going to react to his. He had found it while searching for something to give her. Ivar had managed to stumble across a cedar wood trunk that was filled with Freyja’s childhood things. He had hoped to find a valuable item that she would like and he happened to find just the right one. Ivar reached into the bag he had strapped against his hip.
“I’m not sure if you will like mine, Rey” he grumbled, “I thought of you when I saw it.” Ivar pulled out the dagger.
It was a beautiful weapon that seemed to be made of the finest steel that ever existed, the hilt black with a red garnet. Freyja was speechless. Such beautiful gifts she received today she wasn’t sure what she loved best; the pup, the ring or the gorgeous dagger her Ivar was gifting her. She took it silently still gaping at it. The blade was sharp but the weapon itself was light in weight, the balance was perfect. Hvitserk recognized it immediately.
“Ivar where did you get that?” The memories were vague but he knew what it was and how it ended it up in Kattegat.
“In a trunk. I thought it would make an amazing gift” His little brother said this with restored pride now that he saw Freyja’s reaction.
Hvitserk tried to take the dagger away as well but Freyja stood up as quick as a cat. “It’s mine now”
“You don’t know who it belonged to! They tried to kill you with that when you were a baby!” The words left his mouth and he instantly regretted it. Sigurd gave him a sharp look and told him to shut up. Ivar’s face paled but Freyja’s expression did not change.
“They tried to kill me with the dagger and whoever sent them to kill me will die with the same dagger they sent” The pup wiggled in her arms but she did not let go. “I am not afraid and it does not anger me that Ivar gave me such a gift. The same dagger that was used to try to kill me will be used on my enemies. It will help me along the journey”
“What journey?” Ivar asked.
Freyja needed to tell them. So many news today and new information she did not know but needed to hear might as well tell them now.
“The war ended a few years ago but your father disappeared after and no one has seen him or his men since”
“What do you mean they haven’t seen him?” Ivar wanted to cry. They had not seen their father since they were children and they all had prayed for his return.
“They have not seen him at all and the war has been over for six years now. I want to go with Bjorn on his next raid to look for him, you should come too”
“We must” Hvitserk said looking at his brothers. “Our father needs us as much as we need him”
“Mother will never let us go” Sigurd argued.
“Well maybe me and Hvitty can go alone and you two can stay here. I love Ragnar as much as you” The wolf pup snuggled into her furs and she put the dagger inside her cloak.
Sigurd kept his eyes on the dagger, “How are you going to explain the dagger to Kraka and Lagertha? They’ll take it away from you once they see it you know”
Freyja shrugged. “I’ll hide it under my pillow. I still need to name my direwolf though” Her pup licked her wrist and she giggled. There were a few shouts coming from the village and they all grew quiet. Hvitserk jumped to his feet and ran out of the clearing to search for the source of the noise. Freyja’s hand was already snaking for the dagger again, her survival and protection instincts kicked in. Ivar couldn’t properly protect himself and Sigurd could but still, she would protect them. Hvitserk came back breathless his face was pale and fear clear as day in his eyes.
“We need to go. Freyja...your father...King Rhaegar is here”
@allvikingsfanfic @lettersofwrittencollective @blonddnamedhandz @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @faeeryy @wanderlust-imagines @mellxander1993 @-thatgirloverthere-
#game of thrones and vikings#vikings fanfic#vikings imagine#vikings writings#game of thrones fanfic#game of thrones writing#game of thrones imagine#sigurd x reader#ivar x reader#hvitserk x reader
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The Last of the Starks - Random thoughts on Episode 4
It started so promising though
This fourth episode opened with the aftermath of the Battle of Winterfell and a tearful funeral to bid farewell to the departed characters. Ramin Djawadi offers some more of his genius to score the scene… and that’s about his only meaningful contribution to the episode. What a shame after the mastery he displayed in the previous episode. The rest of this one is underscored with reused bits and pieces that sometimes work (Brienne and Jaime were scored by an unreleased cue that worked - but strangely previously accompanied Tyrion, Shae and Sansa at their wedding and later during Tyrion’s trial; Littlefinger’s theme reappears as Sansa makes the decision to tell Tyrion about Jon’s parentage) and frankly sometimes are total misses. Take the scene where Cersei and Dany’s forces face off at the gates of King’s Landing. It’s scored by a mashup of a cue that was previously used for the Boltons and a snippet from The Spoils of War intertwined with I Choose Violence. And to top it off the credits that roll right after a scene that should be deemed as tragic are accompanied by Shall We Begin, the same that ended Dany’s arrival at Dragonstone in 7x01. Hardly fitting, right ?
I have read that Missandei’s death reminds the viewers of Ned’s death. Well, Ned’s death was followed by Goodbye Brother, a sorrowful and quiet variation of the Stark theme - proper for mourning. Finishing here with this triumphant variation of the Targaryen theme removes any occasion to mourn for Missandei; some other episodes even finished off without any music at all. And if they really wanted a triumphant cue, the triumph is all for Cersei here so a variation of The Rains of Castamere would have worked better than Dany’s theme. This is absolutely not a victory for Dany here
Please do yourself a favor and go listen to I’m Sorry For Today by Ramin Djawadi. Then tell me this is not a better cue to end this episode. Wanna know something else ? It’s Greyworm and Missandei’s love theme. So… I just want to say a big no-no to whoever was in charge of music here
And then it spiraled down
Time constraints are back and it makes everyone worry about the rest of the season. The show already struggled during its entire seventh season with these problems of days/weeks spanning within minutes of an episode not to mention characters maddeningly being able to teleport literally anywhere they were needed to be. Well, it’s back on and it hurts everyone from the audience to the story to the characters themselves. While the first three episodes seemed to have learned from the previous mistakes by allowing the gravity of the situation at Winterfell to be really felt - giving the battle against the dead and the loss of characters much more impact - this installment reverts to what drew audience away from S7 by trying to pack too much in an episode that suffers from the lack of impact these developments should - in theory - have on viewers. In previous seasons, this episode would probably have been divided into two or even three episodes. I’ll say it again, I still don’t understand why HBO allowed the seasons to be shorter when 10 episodes per season was clearly a good rhythm. This decision to cut S7 and S8 down did nothing good to the show
Anyway we lose more characters here and that’s the big problem. It seems that the previous episode pulled back its punches and restrained from killing too many just to create an effect of surprise and shock in this one. But that’s just about it. There’s shock but no lasting emotional punch. We lose Rhaegal and Missandei but we hardly feel anything other than pure shock. There is no sadness, no real emotion. They’re just gone and on we move. It’s like the whole Viserion situation all over again only worse. Losing Rhaegal so soon and in such an unceremonious way serves in theory to create shock. Except the fact is, it only comes off as writing off an asset that is not needed anymore. And very poorly at that. What use was Rhaegal then apart from having Jon fly him for a few cool scenes ? In this case I’d have preferred him to die in the Battle of Winterfell
Since Dany lost Rhaegal, I don’t really see any point in her losing Missandei as well. Her dragon is largely enough to make her tip over the edge. Unless Missandei’s death furthers Greyworm’s story instead. Dany is already on her way to end up completely alone, having lost Jorah, most of her army, now her confidante and it remains to be seen how her commander will react to the death of his love. That was even confirmed by the producers as something very intentional. Varys is also lost to her and on the verge of taking Tyrion with him. On a positive note, Lena Headey continues to shine but I think Emilia does a tremendous job as well in portraying Dany’s descent into darkness
Jon and Dany are sinking and drag everyone with them
In any case, Dany and Jon seem headed for disaster. He still cannot say I love you back and what little faith I have left in Jon compels me to think he at least will not participate in the mass murder Dany seems to be leaning into. This at least is an aspect I am glad was not rushed over. The gradual transition of Dany from hero to tragic and morally questionable protagonist (to avoid the V word) is not - as some claim - too sudden to be credible; we have seen the seeds planted firmly in S7 and even earlier. Dany has my sympathy because I can still recognize her story as a tragic one and I feel for the losses she suffered. But in terms of ruling and politics, she’s no match to Sansa whom the remaining players still seem to take no notice of, as one of the best fitted rulers around (if not the only one)
Notice that Jon and Dany’s one-on-one scene is silent. There’s no music there, no Truth variation (thankfully!) to underscore it, a big contrast to the Jaime/Brienne scene. There was no romantic context to read here. Another observation : she uses touch as a means to get to Jon, just like Sansa did
Then there’s the Jon problem. I don’t know what to say about him because I hardly recognize the character. Who is this man who doesn’t even pet his direwolf ? Now I’m happy that Ghost gets a better ending than Rhaegal but this is a big disservice to a character that used to be much more important not just for the story but to Jon as well. Plus he keeps pushing his allegiance to Dany on his siblings and I bet Sansa was THIS close to blurt out loud that this was HIS allegiance, not HERS
And I can’t even begin with Jon still constantly shutting Sansa down. Anyone can literally understand the benefits of letting soldiers rest. And it’s not ‘provoking’ as Tyrion later states. It’s basic human concern mingled with a touch of military savvy. I wonder why everyone misinterprets literally what comes out of her mouth. It doesn’t take an A++ military strategist to come up with this kind of suggestion. Yet BOTH Dany and Jon shut down this basic guideline from Military 101. Sansa can’t even be bothered to argue with Jon anymore and honestly I don’t blame her. It’s up to Arya to call him on his bullshit
On a positive note, once again, Arya and Sansa synchronize themselves by holding their hands behind their back at the war council - a nice way to present a united front. Notice however that this time around, Arya is better at hiding her displeasure at Dany than her sister when in S7 she was pretty vocal about the Northern lords. Usually Sansa is the more diplomatic one, yet this season she can’t help but speak up to Dany. One then remembers Sophie Turner’s comments on a ‘more passionate fight’ this season than a political one. Sansa ‘loses it’ because she is triggered about Jon and Dany
And for an episode called The Last of the Starks its pivotal scene feels a lot underwhelming. First let this fact sink in : this is the FIRST AND ONLY time that all the Starks share some screen time alone and speak as a family. Yes these kids have never interacted onscreen before. Anyway, Arya and Sansa finally learn the truth of Jon’s parentage. Yet we’re denied the actual telling and their reactions. Jon doesn’t even do the deed himself; instead Bran does it. Was Jon ever really needed then ? I’ve seen speculation that Jon specifically refrained from telling them himself so that he could technically keep his word to Dany. Why not but still frustrating
The next time we see Arya, she’s on her way south. So is Jon. Only Sansa seems really affected by what she has learnt. And for a house that places so much importance on the pack as family, you have once again a family that is not only divided because of Jon’s parentage, his allegiance to someone all of his siblings haven’t praised a single time but also geographically as two head south - possibly to never return - and two stay home, one of whom is not really part of the family anymore. So what happens to 'The pack survives’? Are they even a pack anymore ? Were they ever ? Sansa alone seems to still cling onto this futile notion. Jon leaves everything that ties him to the North behind, from Ghost to Sam and Tormund, not to mention his cousins. And yet, there’s still NO GOODBYES
I’d speculated before that Jon and Sansa might argue more over his Starkness. That seems unlikely now since the two haven’t had any one-on-one scene since the first episode. Given how Jon treats her I kind of stick by my point that he doesn’t deserve her. With only two episodes left, even if Jon magically reveals that he was playing some kind of game, this late in the endgame would feel cheap and effectively rendered less impactful
And on Sansa, again the time jumping does a great disservice to her - but that’s not the only time her character is dealt a poorly with. The framing of this installment makes it like Sansa couldn’t wait to snitch on Jon to Tyrion. Instead, a lot of time has passed per the producers who told us that this was a very thoroughly thought decision on her part. Well, that wasn’t what transpired on screen and if really some time has passed, then her onscreen upset appearance is not even a reaction to Jon’s secret
Anyway Tyrion asks her if she is alright. She is not. Cue the parallel to Littlefinger’s ‘what do you want that you do not have ? Why aren’t you happy ?’ This episode clearly points out Jon as the answer. And it’s not just her protectiveness over him - also, wasn’t HE supposed to be the one who protects her? - it’s the look of pure unaldultered adoration and fondness she shoots at him during the celebrations only to be tarnished by what everyone interprets - rightly - as jealousy over Dany. Notice that when she’s had enough and goes, Jon notices. Why she keeps being so faithful to him is a bit beyond me honestly but hey I don’t have Sansa’s patience with everyone else’s bullshit
On Jaime and Brienne : I was happy they got together and then mad at Jaime for going but I can’t blame him really. Sitting out the rest of the war was never a viable option for him and I like to think that Sansa subtly prompted him to go with her comment on Cersei
Logics fly out of the window
As many pointed out, the logistics of I-Can-Magically-Teleport-Myself -And-My-Fleet-Euron are all but credible and the odds of hitting a flying dragon not once, not twice but three times in a row and then miraculously miss one dragon with a dozen simultaneous arrows are downright ridiculously low. But then again… a flying Dany could not spot the Iron Fleet when she was airborne. So let’s just not dwell too long on this one
Sansa did not catch on PolJon. When Arya tells Jon she respects his decision to kneel in order to bring Dany’s forces north, Sansa is stunned. But previously, we thought that she had understood why Jon did it when she was conversing with Dany. Apparently not
Not a bad episode really. But clearly, the lesser of S8 so far and one that’s very worrying over the final two that have so much to wrap up.
#game of thrones#got#game of thrones thoughts#got thoughts#got meta#game of thrones meta#sansa stark#jon snow#daenerys targaryen#arya stark#cersei lannister#jonsa#anti jonerys#anti-jonerys#jaime lannister#brienne of tarth#tyrion lannister#jaime x brienne#ramin djawadi
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One True Queen Pt.2 Finale
Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader
Warnings: none
Words: 2075
Summary: You return to the Red Keep to claim your rightful place.
Part 1
Dawn was barely breaking through the sleepy sky as your party finally reached the Red Keep; your little dragon having kept you warm the entire ride back. All the Targaryen soldiers were still in shock at what had unfolded.
The little dragon that had hatched hours ago was snuggled against your chest, snapping at any soldier that dared to look your way. Red scales burned brightly as he would every so often peek his head out from behind the cloak that Ser Arthur had draped over you. Bright yellow eyes stare curiously at the rising buildings. Someday he would be larger than any of them.
An actual dragon after so many years. Everyone said that dragons were extinct, The ones that were able to hatch didn’t last long and didn’t grow any larger than a dog. You immediately fear of what your father, Aerys would do once he found out that there was a dragon alive. What would he do to your poor little one?
As if reading your mind, he looks up at you and opens his mouth in a soft squeak. You scratch at his head scales with your index finger, he happily rubs his tiny skull against your touch. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” You were finally a mother.
“My lady, may I help you down?” Jaime Lannister asks, a bit hesitantly; his green eyes darting to the scarlet creature in your arms. Normally Ser Jaime was fearless; one had to be to have achieved being a knight at such a young age. Even Jaime was wary of your scaly child.
Being a few feet off the ground you took him up on the offer despite Little Red hissing in protest. He nearly snapped at Jaime’s fingers making the knight flinch away after he safely set you down on the ground.
From there you knew the way. Up the stone steps and into the Red Keep. You knew you would have explaining to do. The other knights and soldiers would have to explain to your father that Robert Baratheon had nearly had you killed in the fire that took down the inn and many other lives. You knew the only thing he’d be interested in was your dragon.
You were escorted into the Throne Room amid a cloud of shouts and yells that even Aerys couldn’t control with his own voice.
“Just give back the Stark girl!!” Someone shouted.
“A war with the Baratheons isn’t worth it!”
Ser Arthur swiftly moves to your side as the crowd in front of you blocks you from view. He clears his throat and announces “MAKE WAY FOR THE PRINCESS!!”
It was loud enough to cut through everyone else as the crowd begins to turn around; a collective gasp filling the arid chamber. Eyes widen and mouths openly gawk. Seeing the crowd ripple and buzz with soft murmurs had King Aerys standing from his seat on the Iron Throne. Your father still looked the same; decrepit and insane with his long white hair and gnarly nails that looked more akin to talons from a falcon. The crown on top of his head was crooked, fitting too big for his undernourished skull. Beside the large throne forged of the fallen blades of those who had undermined Targaryen rule were your brothers. Viserys standing on the tips of his toes and Rhaegar. Lyanna was nowhere to be seen, something you were grateful for.
Everyone parted, making way for you as you took slow steps toward the throne. Now the rest of your family saw what the other royals had. The precious dragon in your arms. Red like the three-headed one on your sigil.
“Impossible.” His voice is dry as he stares incredulously your way.
Viserys’ lilac eyes sparkle, wide with astonishment. “By the Gods. . .”
As if to finish everyone else’s thoughts, Rhaegar breathes out “A dragon.”
Then slowly a wicked smile cracks on the Mad King’s withered face as he cackles “A dragon! A Targaryen dragon!! Well done (y/n)!! Come closer! Let me see it!”
A bit confident with your little one in your arms, you step up to the base of the Iron Throne, trying to avoid Rhaegar’s gaze.
“Remarkable.” Aerys continues to grin, coveting your newly hatched dragon. It had been centuries since the Targaryens last were able to hatch a dragon, let alone have it grow to it’s full mass. And now there you were. His daughter, bringing back the true Targaryen legacy. You saw the twinkle in his pale eyes. The thoughts that were rolling in that demented mind of his. Already you knew that he would try to monopolize him. To use him to terrorize his imaginary enemies. You wouldn’t let that happen. “Was it true that that Baratheon bastard tried to burn you?”
You nod. “Yes. The fires did not scorch me though.”
“A true dragon. Who would’ve thought my daughter would bring back the dragons!” He rises to his full height. “BEHOLD! MY DAUGHTER! MOTHER OF DRAGONS!”
Applause erupted and your dragon slithered onto your shoulders. Daring to look at your brother, his focus is down on the ground. Shame.
As soon as you arrived, buzz of you and your dragon spread through Westeros like wildfire. And just like you had thought your father tried to monopolize your dragon and use it to his own will. He invited many other lords to witness the fearsome glory of the Targaryens. In all that time You barely saw your brother Rhaegar. You didn’t know how it was possible for him to continue to break your heart, but he did. Everyone was paying attention to you except for the one person that mattered most.
One evening when you were finally able to get away from your father’s court and the mystified eyes and kiss ass words of the other noblemen, you and your dragon, took a much needed stroll. He was already growing so quickly. Balerion ate the finest meats and despite your father wanting to lock him up, you let him roam freely and took him outside so that he could stretch his little wings even though he couldn’t yet fly. He made small attempts to catch flight but he was still too tiny.
You giggle at another attempt of his. “Soon my little Spitfyre.” You had named him such due to his already feisty attitude. Already he had nearly taken off one of your father’s fingers and singed Maester Pycelle’s beard. He didn’t like when any other man was near you. Even Viserys was not allowed near your vicinity.
Mood already growing lighter, the last thing you wanted to see was Rhaegar with Lyanna. The stopped immediately as did you. Spitfyre continued to romp around the grounds, hunting down bugs or even better, stray rats. Once he sensed your uneasiness though he turned his scaly head to you then to the couple. Releasing a mighty hiss, he scampered back to you and made his way to your shoulders.
You couldn’t help but look over Lyanna Stark. Unable to resist the resentment you immediately held for her. To make matters worse, she was utterly beautiful in that cold, northern, way of her’s. Beautifully pale skin that must be suffering from the south; rich, dark, hair that gave her an even more edgy appearance. And those eyes. Piercing gray eyes, decorated with long lashes.
Lyanna shifted uncomfortably next to your brother, cautiously eying Spitfyre. A northerner’s natural instinct was to be mistrustful.
“(y/n). . .”
“Rhaegar.” You reply cooly and nod to Lyanna. “Lady Stark.” You refused to call her a Targaryen mostly out of spite. It was her fault after all. She was the reason why Robert Baratheon tried to kill you. Then again, you wouldn’t have had Spitfyre if it wasn’t for Lyanna. You would have to thank her later once all your wounds had healed. She purses her lips yet doesn’t dare to antagonize you. “Princess (y/n). So glad to see you back, safe and sound.”
“Yes, too bad Robert Baratheon forgot that fire cannot kill a dragon.” Absentmindedly you scratch at Spitfyre’s chin. He stretches his wings out while softly making a noise akin to a cat’s purr.
Rhaegar takes a step forward. “(y/n), I’ve been meaning to talk with you.” He turns slightly to Lyanna. “I’ll meet you back inside.”
Warily Lyanna shifts her gaze toward you before leaving.
Now it was just you and Rhaegar. It had been quite a while the last time you were left alone with him. Everything was different now. “What do you have to say to me?”
“You know I love you. I can’t apologize enough for what has happened. When news came about Robert. . . I nearly lost it. The thought of losing you-”
“I don’t want anymore of your faux sweet words, Rhaegar.”
“They aren’t fake (y/n).” Rhaegar tries once more but then decides it’s useless with a shake of his head. “We can deal with that some other time. There’s urgent business I wanted to discuss with you. If. . . If you will follow me.”
Digging his talons a bit in your shoulder to stabilize himself as you follow Rhaegar, Spitfyre flaps his wings a little bit at the jostling movement.
Deep in the cells of the Red Keep, you began to grow suspicious, even Spitfyre was displaying his attitude in being confined in a dark tunnel. Rhaegar opens a heavy door; inside resides Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Jon Connington, Varys, Barristan Selmy, and several other house delegates, even including a Lannister messenger.
Scowling, you lift your chin up to look questioningly at your brother. “What’s going on?”
“Please come in, Princess.” Varys insists. “Then we will let you in on all that we’ve been working on.”
Spitfyre hisses as Rhaegar moves behind you to close the door. It was incredibly dark besides a small candle that Varys held; casting shadows across the faces of the other men in the room.
“(y/n), we’ve been planning for some time on over throwing our father. Surely you know how insane he’s become. He isn’t fit to be king anymore. Now more than ever. . .” explains Rhaegar.
Barristan Selmy nods. “Indeed. Ever since you came back with your dragon, he has become even more delusional, I’m afraid. He’s getting ideas in his head.”
“Yes, I’ve heard talk that he’s been wanting to take your dragon away to use as his own.” Varys informs.
That scared you. You had known the moment you set foot back at the Red Keep that he would want to do something like that. To take Spitfyre and use him for his own gain. But to overthrow him?
“So what, get rid of father and make you king?”
“Not exactly. . .” Rhaegar rubs the back of his neck.
Ser Arthur Dayne speaks up “This is where you come in Princess. We want to crown you as Queen of Westeros. True, Rhaegar is beloved by many but with this stint with Lyanna. . . Well, it has upset a lot of people. You though. . . You have sparked a new inspiration in many. You have brought back a dragon. Surely you can do more miracles.”
“Me as queen?” The title was weird on your tongue. Yet it would’ve been the title had your father died and Rhaegar become king. “What about you Rhaegar?”
He sighs. “You heard Arthur. I’ve stepped on many toes. I would step down on my claim. If you’ll have me, then I rule beside you to a smaller degree. . .”
You spit out “What about Lyanna.”
That made the others murmur quietly among one another. Even Rhaegar was hesitant to reply. “I don’t want to give her up (y/n). . .”
Laughing bitterly you shake your head. “So you’ll give me up instead?”
“No-”
“What I believe your brother is trying to say” Varys steps in frantically, not wanting to lose your attention “is that you would solely be the ruling figure. Lady Lyanna would not have the title as queen and Rhaegar would not be called king. That is unless you want him to be your king.”
“The point of this all is that we want you to be Queen of all of Westeros.” Griff pipes up.
“The one true queen.” Rhaegar says softly.
They all knelt before you. Everyone of them ready to pledge their loyalty.
You close your eyes. Spitfyre crying in approval and encouragement.
#reader insert#fanfiction#fanfic#game of thrones fanfiction#asoiaf fanfiction#game of thrones fanfic#game of thrones#got fanfic#got fanfiction#asoiaf fandom#asoiaf fanfic
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Against All Odds [Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader]
Request: Hiya! I was wondering if I could request a Jaime Lannister x reader fic, I saw request were open! Could you do one where him and the reader meet at a ball or something and he’s attracted to her so whilst she’s at Kings Landing he tries to flirt and they fall in love etcetcetc but won’t admit it and one day out of jealousy Cersei has her guards beat the reader to warn her? Super angsty if possible and I’m sorry that was long I didn’t know how to put it into words! Lots of love! Xx
A/n: Jaime may have been a dick but he deserves better
Words 2,400 || GoT Masterlist
Being the eldest child of Ned Stark brought along an almost endless list of responsibilities. However you loved your house and most of all you loved your family. You had always been close with your father so when you were asked to follow him and your sisters to King’s Landing, you accepted even thought you didn’t like the thought of living in the South.
One of the things you despised the most was having to attend balls. You found no point in dressing up and having to withstand men trying to impress you by constantly talking about themselves.
“I swear to the Gods the next time another Lord tells me about how large his castle is I’ll jump off a window” you mumbled making your father chuckle and lightly scold you.
“Try not to insult anyone and maybe the next time we’ll figure out a way for you not to attend” he replied whispering. It wasn’t much, but even the possibility of missing one of those pretentious gatherings was enough to motivate you through this one. “The King wishes to talk to me, is it okay to leave you alone?”
“Father, I’m a grown woman, I can take care of myself”
“It’s not you I’m worried about” he said making you laugh. With that he headed to the royal table, leaving you almost hiding in the shadows in order to avoid any form of interaction. However your wishes were not met with reality when you heard the voice of no other than the infamous Jaime Lannister behind you.
“And what may a beautiful Lady like yourself be doing lurking in the shadows?” He asked softly making you want to roll your eyes at him “I bet half the Lords in this ballroom would kill for a dance with the Flower of the North” he continued
“Unfortunately you happen to be right my Lord” you replied trying not to sound too irritated by his presence.
“Unfortunately?” He seemed to be legitimately interested in what you meant so you decided to elaborate before you had the chance to think twice.
“That’s all they see in me. The only thing they consider me capable of is dancing and nodding along to their extravagant stories. Dance after dance after dance… That can’t be all there is to life” You regretted the words almost immediately as they left your mouth. This was Jaime Lannister you were talking to, for gods’ sake. “Excuse me that was uncalled for” you hurried to add before he had a chance to say anything.
“There’s nothing to apologize for, Lady Stark. I understand the way you feel. After all these balls are certainly not the best life has to offer, the Gods are not that cruel” he replied taking you by surprise.
“I take it I’m not the only one not enjoying myself as much as I’m supposed to” you thought out loud causing the Lannister to chuckle. Even if you’d never admit it out loud, it was nice hearing him laugh for the first time.
“Once again you are right, my Lady” he replied smirking. His presence was just as intense as people claimed it was, however you did not feel intimidated, just curious to find out more about the Lannister Lion.
“There’s no need for titles, please just Y/n”
“Well then, Y/n, I think there is a way we can help each other out of this situation. Come with me, and call me Jaime” he offered and even though every thinking cell inside your body screamed at you to turn around while you still could, you decided to give in to your curiosity and follow the Lannister. After all, you had to admit you liked the way your name sounded coming from him.
“I’m starting to think your intentions are not as innocent as I thought, leading a lady through such dark and isolated parts of the castle. Are you trying to seduce me, Ser Jaime?” you half joked half flirted as you were crossing an extremely dark corridor
“Depends, is it working?” he replied in the exact same tone causing a light laugh to escape your lips
You were ready to answer but you were interrupted by the view that appeared in front of you. It was the most beautiful although tiny garden you had ever come across with just a couple of trees standing in the middle. The moonlight added a silvery glow to everything, intensifying the beauty of the place. For a moment all you could do was stare at the view in front of you in awe, trying to absorb the beauty of it.
“Enjoying the view?” Jaime asked snapping you out of the trance you were into.
“It’s beautiful” You replied
“Indeed” he said and if you were any less fascinated by what you were seeing you’d notice the knight staring at you. He made his way to the trees and you realized there was a small wooden couch hidden underneath them. You followed Jaime and sat down next to him. “So, tell me, Y/n, what else should I know about you except from the fact that you despise dancing and nodding along to my stories?” He asked making you chuckle.
The night went on, both of you talking about your lives, your dreams and your desires. As time went by he seemed to open up to you and vice versa and before you realized what was happening you were telling him things you had never told anyone before. After that night it became a tradition and the both of you would meet in the same garden almost every night and spend hours talking about everything. Slowly but steadily a strong bond was formed between the two of you. These late night adventures allowed you to realize there were so much more to Jaime than he let on. Sure, he appeared arrogant and self-centered, but that was just a façade and if anyone managed to break it they’d see that deep down Jaime Lannister had a good heart despite the things he’d done.
At first you considered Jaime one of your closest friends but then something changed and you’d start to notice the how beautiful his laugh sounded and the way his eyes would light up when he talked about something he was passionate about. You knew what that meant however you refused to own up to the fact that you were falling for him.
What you didn’t know was the fact that Jaime was having similar thoughts himself, trying to figure out how he ended up falling in love with a Stark. The feelings he got when he was around you were something he had never felt before. His heart stopped whenever you touched him and he’d get all nervous and uncertain about himself. Also, you seemed to be the thought stuck in his head as he would never stop missing your company when you weren’t around. Jaime thought he had known what love felt like, but he couldn’t be more wrong. For the first time in his life he had someone he could confide in, someone who valued him and even made him want to be a better man.
Unfortunately, even though both of you were oblivious about your feelings, they had been noticed by someone else, that someone being Cercei. To say she was jealous would be an understatement. The moment an opportunity presented itself in, she send the Mountain after you.
You were on your way to meet Jaime when you felt a pair of arms grab you from behind and throw you to the nearest wall. Before you could reach for the dagger you kept hidden the large man hit you in the head making you lose your balance. What followed was a series of punches and kicks so intense that by the end of it you could barely stand. You returned to your room and fell on your bed exhausted from the effort you had to make to arrive there. After what seemed like centuries you found the strength to get up and attend to the cuts in your face. It appears that in your distress you forgot to lock the door because when Jaime came looking for you it opened the moment he tried to knock.
“Jaime what are you doing here?” You asked slowly and tried to turn around so he wouldn’t see your face. The last thing you needed right now was him seeing you in the state you were in, hair a mess and your face all bloody.
“Your absence made me concerned. Is everything okay?” At this point Jaime was certain something was off and he refused to leave until he made sure you were okay.
“Yes, I am just really tired and my head hurts. It’s nothing though I’ll be fine tomorrow” you straight up lied feeling instantly guilty about it as he was the only person you had tried to be absolutely honest with.
“Y/n I know you’re lying. What happened?” He insisted making his way towards where you were sitting, still not facing him.
“Nothing. Just go to sleep, Jaime” you tried one last time even though you knew there was no way to change his mind. The bad feeling in the back of his mind intensified immediately at your response making him feel a knot in his stomach.
“Just look at me and I’ll go” he asked almost begging
“Don’t…” Before you could protest, you felt his hand slowly tracing your cheekbone, prompting you to turn around and face him which you denied. Instead he just got up and kneeled in front of where you were sitting, finally getting a look at the damage the Mountain had caused.
“Who did this?” He asked sternly. You had never heard his voice so void of emotion and it almost scared you seeing this side of him.
“It doesn’t matter”
“I need to know" he said trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. If he was honest with himself, Jaime would admit there were countless contradicting thoughts running through his head. An immeasurable anger towards the person who had hurt you, some kind of relief that you were still alive, guilt that he wasn’t there when you needed him.
“It won’t make a difference” you insisted knowing if he found out it was his sister he’d act on instinct, never minding the consequences and get himself in danger.
“It was my sister wasn’t it?” he asked and when there was no response he knew he was right.
“Please don’t do anything you’ll regret” it was your turn to beg wanting him to stay out of harm’s way. Perhaps he should stay away from you now that the situation was starting to get wild, you thought sadly.
“No, Y/n. I’ve tolerated enough of Cercei’s shit. I cannot stand by and watch the woman I love being treated this way. I don’t care if she is the Queen Mother, or the Queen herself" he burst out taking you by surprise. Of all the things you expected to hear that was the last.
“The woman you what?” you half whispered, thinking you had misheard his words. For a moment the room was filled with absolute silence that broke by Jaime’s sad laugh.
“There is no point hiding it, is there? Y/n Stark I am in love with you, you have bewitched me of body and soul. And I know it sounds stupid but you made me realize what love is. You make me want to be a better man" Jaime’s eyes met yours at last and you could see the sincerity of his words even if you found it hard to believe them.
“I feel the same way and I have been for a while now” you confessed and allowed a smile to grace your features ignoring the slight pain the action caused.
“How can you? You deserve so much better than this, than me. The Kingslayer. The man without honor. A man who can’t even protect you” he said looking away. It was your turn to gently place a hand on his cheekbone to make him look at you.
“You cannot protect me, no one can. But I do not care. I do not need a guard, I need someone I can trust and love and that person is you Jaime" you explained softly. The faint light of the fire shone through your room making his blue eyes shine even brighter. Deep down both of you knew it would be dangerous, but that was a risk you were willing to take and the look of pure adoration he was giving you was all the evidence you needed. He opened his mouth to protest but you interrupted him before he even started “I want this just as much as you do, why deny it?”
The struggle going on in his mind was apparent, yet your final words seemed to be all he needed to hear because next thing you knew was his lips coming down on yours full of passion and at the same time tender. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to melt at his touch as his hands run through your hair, pulling you closer. He gently tugged at your bottom lip causing you to let out a soft whimper. When the kiss finally broke he didn’t pull away, instead his eyes remained closed as his hand came down to caress your lips
“Do you really think this can work?” he asked opening his eyes to look at you, taking in the state you were into, pupils dilated and lips slightly bruised.
“I know it will” you replied and against all odds you were actually sure. It wouldn’t be easy but you would find a way, no matter what Cercei or anyone else tried.
#got imagine#got x reader#got#game of thrones#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones x reader#jaime lannister imagine#jaime lannister#ned stark#jaime lannister x reader
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For the dialogue prompts: 4. “How do you destroy a monster without becoming one?”
Wow, so apparently I’m incapable of writing just a drabble these days. Here you have, Anon, some book canon, I hope you like it, and thanks for the prompt!
...
The wench didn't speak for two days after they left the cave where they had almost died. She didn't sleep or eat or do anything except what Jaime directed her to, her extraordinary eyes dull and remote.
He knew that look, had seen it before in the looking glass, distantly, except the eyes had been green and he had been wearing white. It was unnerving seeing it on someone else, more so in her eyes.
Jaime kept a close eye on her as they made their way back to his camp, waving away the question from his men when he returned, three days after he had left without telling anyone and with a practically catatonic woman in tow, a green boy and a half-dead knight. He ordered a maester to check of them all, and find tents for the boy and the knight.
The wench, he took to his own tent.
"This is highly irregular, my lord," the maester said while he looked her over.
Jaime had refused to leave the tent, even when the maester had to remove Brienne's armour and jerkin to get to her torso, which was mottled purple and blue. He arm was also broken, and she grunted when the maester set it and splintered it. The worst was her cheek, though, the horrific wound had been infected and suppurating by the time the maester had a chance to look at it. She had been staring into nothingness, though Jaime could see how she trembled, how her eyes filled with tears of pain she was too stubborn going to let fall in front of them.
Jaime shooed the maester out as soon as he was done in spite of his protests. "She's a highborn Lady, my Lord. You shouldn't dishonour her."
"I won't," he said, remembering how the Brotherhood had received them when they arrived. The Kingslayer's Whore is back, they had said, and she had hunched into herself, refusing to look at Jaime in the eye, as meek and timid as he had ever seen her.
She had been refusing to look him in the eye since the moment they departed together, the lies about Sansa Stark and the Hound echoing in the space between the two of them the loudest thing of their travel. He had known she was lying since the moment she had spoken, the lie tasting sour enough on her tongue to show on her face, but had gone with her anyway. He wasn't still sure why, just that the moment he had seen what had become of her during her quest, Jaime had known he wasn't going to let her out of his sight again.
He had been tempted during that day's travel to knock her out and drag her back to his camp, have the maester see to her and then send her back to her father, where she would be safe. Except he had remembered then, Tarth wasn't a safe place anymore. Nor was King's Landing, or anywhere in this Gods forsaken kingdoms.
And Winter had already come.
He would keep her by his side, then. Jaime refused to have the wench's death in his conscience because he'd been selfish enough to send her away to restore his honour.
He went out for a moment to get some food brought to his tent, when he got back she was still sitting in the same place, still staring into nothingness. He called Peck and Pia and had them prepare a bath and help them out of their armour. He was aware of the looks they were exchanging, and of how inappropriate it was for a Lord and an unmarried highborn Lady to be undressed in the same tent.
He didn't care, her honour couldn't be more tainted by her association with him than it already was.
Kingslayer's whore, indeed, they should have called Cersei that, not the wench. Except Cersei wasn't his anything anymore, she was just a whore.
"Wench," he said once they were alone. "Remove the rest of your clothes and get inside the bath." She turned to look at him, a small frown on her face, but didn't move. "Wench, I'll do it myself if necessary." The frown deepened, and she blinked rapidly, some light returning to her eyes and Jaime realized she was coming back from wherever she had been. She looked around, frantically, then her eyes landed on him and she sagged in relief. "Brienne, it's alright. We're back at my camp."
"Pod?" she rasped, her voice little more than a whisper. There was a dark mark around her neck, one Jaime had seen around the boy's and the knight's, and he didn't need much imagination to know where they had come from, not with how fond the Brotherhood had been of hangings of late. "Hyle?"
"Alive, they're being tended to by the maester."
She nodded, averting her eyes. If she was aware of her state of undress or cared about it, she made no indication. "I'm sorry."
"What for, wench? For leading me into a trap?" he asked, his voice sharper than he had intended. Brienne hunched further into herself, and Jaime forced himself to gentle his voice. He had thought he wasn't angry with her, but it appeared that was also a lie. "For almost dying for me?"
"I'm sorry," she said again, miserable, and Jaime sighed.
"Get in the bath, Brienne."
She blushed, finally realizing she was almost bare, but removed the rest of her garments, a dark flush crawling from her face to her neck and even lower, reaching her meagre teats and mingling with the purple bruises on her chest. She winced when she bent down to take off her smallclothes, and Jaime approached her to help her. She looked up at him, startled, her eyes huge in her face, and stood stock still while Jaime grabbed the cloth and pulled it down her long legs, bending down himself until his face was level with her belly and her sex. He heard her swallow loudly, or maybe it had been him, and guided her as she lifted one leg and then the other, until she was naked as that day in Harrenhal. She got into the bathtub and Jaime grabbed the cloth and soap to pass it to her.
If he had had two hands, he would have washed her himself, it was what she had done for him then and he was still a Lannister. He paid his debts.
Instead, he went to the tray of food and filled a goblet with wine and took a drink while Brienne scrubbed herself. "You did what you had to do," he said, knowing it was the truth. The knight, Hyle Hunt, had told him as much.
"She refused to choose," he had told Jaime, disgust in his ruined voice, his face a map of bruises and cuts. "She would have let them hang her for you, she might have let them hang me. It was Pod she couldn't let die."
"I killed her," she said brokenly. Jaime turned and looked at her, scrubbing herself raw in the bath. He deposited the goblet on the table and approached her again, stopping her furious scrubbing with his hand. "I killed Lady Catelyn."
Brienne's eyes flew to his and she stilled, her breathing shallow. Jaime took the cloth from her and dipped it in the warm water, kneeling next to the tub to wash her to keep her from hurting herself further. "You're hurt enough, wench, no need to flay yourself alive," he said, and brought the cloth up to her face, gently rubbing it over her features. She closed her eyes and parted her lips, Jaime dipped he cloth again and cleaned her face, careful not to touch the gaping wound on her cheek. Brienne was trembling, even submerged in hot water, and Jaime made sure to be as gentle as possible, dipping the cloth in the water and then brushing her skin, moving down her neck and arms and chest oh so slowly. "You didn't kill Lady Catelyn, the Feys did that. The Boltons did that. You can even argue my family did that. Not you."
"She said to bring her your head, and I couldn't," she protested as if he hadn't spoken. She had her eyes still closed and her face still red, getting redder as Jaime passed the cloth over her breasts and sides. He felt himself beginning to harden and grit his teeth determined to ignore it. This was the same as when she had cleaned him, there was nothing sexual in it, and he wasn't attracted to the wench.
He wasn't, he had just been too long without a woman.
"That wasn't Lady Catelyn," Jaime said, that had been pretty obvious once he had seen the rotting corpse that fool Beric had reanimated. "That was a monster."
"And what am I then?" Brienne asked, opening her eyes and looking into Jaime's. "How do you destroy a monster without becoming one?”
"I wouldn't know, wench, would I?" he said, dipping the cloth in the water again. "I did become the Kingslayer, a monster in the eyes of the realm, after killing Aerys." He raised his brows. "Legs."
Brienne obediently lifted one of her long legs and perched it on the side of the tub, and Jaime kept on cleaning her, wetting the cloth and rubbing it on the soap, and then rubbing her skin softly with it. He did her legs with the same gentleness he'd done the rest of her until he submerged his hand in the water to clean her thighs and she tensed. He realized what he'd done, how close his hand was to her sex, and moved it down her leg, towards her knee until Brienne was breathing again. He was fully hard now, and glad he was pressed against the cold and unforgiving surface of the bathtub.
"You're not a monster," she protested once she got her breathing back, her voice breathy. He could see her nipples were peaked and her entire chest flushed, and he took a deep breath and tried to keep his own cock under control.
This couldn't be sexual, he couldn't dishonour her like this.
"Then neither are you," he said vehemently, tapping her other leg so she switched them.
"You were protecting King's Landing."
He steered away from her thighs this time, no need to tempt fate. "And you were protecting your squire, and that Hyle knight, and me. You didn't kill for yourself, you are not a monster."
That was finally what got through to her, and Brienne started to shake, her eyes filling with tears, her chest heaving with sobs. Jaime dropped the cloth and helped her lean forward from the tub until she could rest her head on his shoulder, her big heaving sobs loud in the quiet tent. It had to be painful, with her broken ribs and her broken heart, she cried for what felt like hours until Jaime's knees were screaming at him and his undershirt was soaked through with water and tears. She calmed down after a while, and Jaime helped her out of the tub keeping his eyes firmly on her face.
"Get some food and get inside the bed, wench," he said after he had helped her dry with one of his towels. They made a curious pair, him with only one hand and her with one arm in a split. Between the two of them, they were barely enough for most basic functions. "I'll go check on your squire and the knight and come back."
"Thank you, Jaime," she said, finally sounding more like herself, and she started to put her clothes back on.
"Eat now, you haven't had anything in two days," he said putting his jerking back on so he could go outside looking had decent. There was nothing to be done about the state of his breeches, at least until he was outside in the frigid air. "I'll be back soon."
He stepped out of his tent and let the icy winter air clear his head and cool his body, his erection stubbornly refusion to subside for a few minutes. He had to go check on the squire as he had promised, and then he would come back to the wench and they would sleep until morning. There was only one bed, but they had shared more and he had no intention to let her out of his sight at all.
And then, then they would have to decide whether they were going to King's Landing to wrinkle the King out of Cersei's hands, or whether they were going to the Vale to find Sansa stark.
But whatever they did, they would be going together, that much he knew.
...
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Born To Be Yours | Part VI
Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)
Season 1-8
Word count: 1,993
Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9
The Hound was fighting an unarmed opponent atop the Walls of the Red Keep during a tourney to celebrate your brother’s nameday. He knocked his shield away and the man fell hard into the courtyard below.
You were seated next to Myrcella, Sansa was on the opposite edge, faking smiles to keep the King pleased. You grew closer and closer with each day that passes, so as your feelings.
“Well struck, Dog!” He said out loud.
“Did you like that?” He turned to Sansa. You rolled your eyes.
“It was a well struck, your grace.” She replied.
“I already said it was a well struck.”
She waited a few seconds to confirm. “Yes, your grace.”
“Who’s next?”
“Lothor Brune, freerider in the service of Lord Baelish. Ser Dontos the Red of House Hollard.” The announcer exclaimed. The last one didn’t appear to be in his five senses. Joffrey gestured him to have more wine, Ser Meryn Trant and another Kingsguard began to pour the liquid down the funnel and the poor knight gurgled and struggled to continue drinking.
“You can’t!” Sansa suddenly shouted before the man collapsed.
“What did you say? Did you say I can’t?”
“I only meant... it would be bad luck to kill a man on your name day.”
“What kind of stupid peasant’s superstition...”
“The girl is right.” Sandor tossed.
“Yes, she is. You’ll reap what you sow on your nameday.” You added.
“He’ll make such a better fool than a knight. He doesn’t deserve the mercy of a quick death.” How kind of the northerner to save the life of someone she doesn’t even know. Those small actions make you admire her.
“Did you hear my lady, Ser Dontos? From now on you’ll be my new fool!”
“Thank you, your grace. And you, my lady, thank you.” They took him away.
“Beloved nephew.” Your uncle’s voice made you instantly smile. He was accompanied by multiple men.
“We’ve looked for you on the battlefield. Joffrey sat down. “You where nowhere to be found.”
“I was here, ruling the Kingdoms.” You almost sneer.
“What a fine job you’ve done.” He jokingly said.
“My dear niece! You look older and prettier.” He kissed your forehead. You grinned.
“You look younger and more handsome” He winked.
“Look at you!” He smiled at your sister. “More beautiful than ever.”
“And you! You are going to be bigger than the Hound, but much better looking.” The three of you laughed.
“We’ve heard you were dead.” Joffrey unconcernedly said.
“I’m glad you are not dead.” The little princess assured.
“We’ve missed you. We have to catch up.” He nodded towards you.
“And we will. Death is so boring, especially now with so much excitement in the world.” He looked at Sansa. “My lady, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Her loss? Her father was a confessed traitor!” The blond angrily screamed.
“But still her father. Surely having recently lost your own you can sympathize.” Not his, but yours. You closed your eyes before the grief took over you.
“My father was a traitor. My mother and brother are traitors too. I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey.” All she can do is pretend and say the right words. The loathe she had for him was only getting bigger.
“Of course you are.” Tyrion smirked sympathetically. The redhead looked your way and you gave her a sweet smile.
He left the tent with his group of people ignoring the King’s questions. It’s so good to have your favorite uncle back. You were still concerned about Jaime. Will the Starks trade him for Sansa? It was sure that Robb was not going to come to the capital. Arya was still missing.
You wanted her to be reunited with her family. The other part of you was shattering at the thought of her leaving. If there was an opportunity you would definitely support her, after all, what mattered to you was her safety and happiness, you tried to provide both but nothing can really fill that hole. Not with Joffrey tormenting her. You would be sad but relieved if she left, you couldn’t be selfish.
“Walk with me, my lady.” You offered your arm to Sansa what she gladly accepted.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m going to steal you.” You quipped and saw she blushed a little. “Would you fancy visiting the streets of the city?”
“Yes, I’d love to.” Two soldiers were accompanying you keeping their distance.
“I remember when I used to wander around the castle in Winterfell. They were all warm to each other.” She seemed to recalled.
“The people who live here... some are happy and some are not. They don’t have enough resources to subsist. They manage to survive.” You gave silver and gold coins to the elder and children who roamed.
“My mother used to tell me... humility makes people great. Envy and selfishness makes them small.”
“And she’s right.” You halted in the market. Spotting the tent you usually go to. They make beautiful things. Such as purses, necklaces, bracelets, etc. They are not made of the finest materials but they are nice and these merchants work really hard.
“Princess Y/N! You honor me with your presence.” The black-haired woman said, a friend of yours.
“Hello, Addy. What did you bring today?
“I have these pins. And the two lions you have it made.” She showed you the wood pieces with flawless details.
“Do you like them, Sansa? Choose the ones you want”
“For my siblings and my mother.” She picked five wolf brooches.
“Thank you very much. Say hello to little Cass. And remember, anything she or the other kids on the orphanage need, tell me.” Addy nodded with gratitude and bowed.
“It’s very generous what you do for them. You are truly an angel.” The lady smiled warmly.
“I know being in the Red Keep can be suffocating. I’ll get you out of there anytime I get the chance.”
“You are my hero.” You part ways once you entered the big castle. You headed to your uncle’s new room.
“The Hand of the King... I didn’t see that coming.” He waved at you.
“Me neither, sweet niece. It’s so good to see you! How is everything in here? I just had a meeting with the council. The summer is over. Your mother was quite angry with the fact I’m the Hand in my father’s stead. She brought this on herself. The North has risen up against us when your moron brother called for Ned Stark’s head.”
“I tried to stop him. It was useless. He thinks he owns the world now, he is not ruling cautiously, I fear for my siblings life, for everyone’s life.”
“Luckily I’m here to supervise his moves. Advise him. Save the city. Not as easy as it sounds I’m afraid.”
“Did you stayed out of trouble?” You asked him well knowing the answer.
“Well... I pissed out in the edge of the Wall. I slept in a sky cell. Lady Arryn almost sentenced me to die. I fought with the hill tributes. So many adventures.” You raised an eyebrow.
“Oh I see, that must have been a lot of fun.” Both of you laughed.
“You can’t imagine.”
It has been an unsteady week. Being with little Tommen and Myrcella has been a distraction from the incoming war you’re dealing with. Renly and Stannis proclaimed themselves Kings. You like to be up to date, so you talk with your mother about these matters.
“My uncles... they’re going to get here anytime soon. We have to be prepared.”
“They have no claim. Let them try. We’ll kick them off the moment they set foot on the shores.” Cersei declared dryly.
“I’ve heard some... disturbing rumors about-“
“You believe them?”
“Absolutely not. I’m just curious.” You shrugged.
“Everyone’s intention is to tear our family apart. Destroy us from within. This gossip is just feeding those who don’t want your brother on the throne.” And you said nothing more.
“You’re losing the people, do you hear me?” Tyrion tried to make her listen.
“The people, you think I care?”
“You should.” You told her, annoyed by her apathy.
“Yes. You might find it difficult to rule over millions who want you dead. Half the city will starve when winter comes. The other half will plot to overthrow you. And your gold-plated thugs just gave them the rallying cry, “The Queen Slaughter babies.” She remained silent. “You don’t even have the decency to deny it.” You scowled. “It wasn’t you who gave the order, was it? Joffrey didn’t even tell you. Or did he? I imagine that would be even worse.” Your uncle growled.
“He did what needed to be done!”
“No. They were innocent. What’s wrong with you? What kind of King is he becoming? You objected.
“You don’t even know who they were, Y/N. This is what ruling is! Lying on a bed of weeds, ripping them out by the root one by one before they strangle you in your sleep.”
“I’m no king, but I think there’s more ruling than that.”
“You’ve never taken it seriously. It’s all fallen on me.”
“As has Jaime repeatedly. According to Stannis Baratheon.” You averted your eyes.
“How dare you say that kind of filthy lies in front of my daughter!” The Queen Regent gave him a withering look. “You’ve always been funny. But none of your jokes will ever match the first one, will they? You remember... when you ripped my mother, open your way out of her and she bled to death.” It hurt to see the look of your uncle’s face.
“She was my mother too.”
“Now she’s gone, for the sake of you. There’s no bigger joke in the world than that.” She stormed out, you followed her.
“You shouldn’t be so cruel with my uncle. If I had lost you when either Myr or Tom were born I would never blame them. I know it must have been pretty hard growing up without your mom, but don’t take it out on him.”
“She died so he could live. A little freak. An abomination.” She spat poison.
“Don’t speak of him that way.”
“Why you defend him so much?”
“Cause he is my family. He is a good person.”
“Joffrey is also your family. And yet you detest him.”
“He has a serious problem. You don’t want to see it or maybe you’re okay with it. Remember when we were kids? I was four and he was five. He used to find pleasure on pushing me, you just stared at us and said it was a normal thing. I grew up and I was able to defend myself, one time I did it and you freaked out, you yelled at me, made me feel so small... you held him while I was sobbing, just because I moved when he tried to hit me making him fell to the ground. Of course, it was my fault according to both of you. How many times did Joffrey hurt me? Said I was ugly cause I wasn’t blonde like him? That I didn’t deserve to be a princess, he was so mean to me and you never lectured him. I recall how many nights I spent crying alone in my room wondering why my mother didn’t care enough to stand up for me when my big brother treated me like I was worthless. You broke my heart a very long time ago. I learned how to pick up the pieces. I’m not that helpless little girl anymore.” You could feel your eyes starting to get teary. You didn’t expect her to say something soothing. Cersei apparently ran out of words, you thanked for her silence instead of lying to you, deep down you hoped she’d embrace you. It was too much to ask for. You lingered a bit more before turning and leaving. Heartbroken once more.
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