#one day it would be her turn [ queue / cersei lannister ]

[copiesofme-archive]

     sneaky little tag drop.

[wineinthewidow]

I hear the show is being a clusterfuck, so I'm here to say that the old man and I agree, Cersei is The Queen.

#The Rightful Queen / @luridgodaccepting

     “ Then you are wiser than the mightiest of lords, My Lord. “

[onthesandsofdreams]

At The Café

Fandom: ASoIaF Pairing: SanSan Rating: T Summary: Sandor had also started putting ‘Little bird’ on her order and, he had given her an extra lemon bar here and there. The bright smile she always gave him made him feel warm inside and nearly made him swoon. So much for him being cold and opposed to love. Words: 1541 Notes: For my big sis @thefeatherofhope, based on this prompt. Also, Sandor’s on the gentler side of this fic, because well, Sansa.

Read @ AO3

Sandor spotted his favorite customer coming in.

Sansa Stark, of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, had been coming to The Three Lions coffee shop without failing for the past three weeks. Near month, really. She always came in, laptop in a pink bag and always impeccably dressed.

The café always had people, being near the university made sure of that. Sandor took his classes and then came straight to work, and Sansa was another student. She was studying literature, specializing in myths and legends of Westeros. And she had been daily, and even if it was for one cup of latter (be it hot or cold). And she was always nice and pleasant, she had made an effort to befriend no only him, but Bronn and Hot Pie.

And Sandor would be lying if he didn’t say that he was, in fact, looking forward seeing her. Her visits, which lasted usually an hour, were the bright spots of his day. He had began calling her Little bird, because as soon as she formed in the queue to order, she would begin humming, from songs that he could recognize as love ballads or songs he had never heard before.

Sansa had been shy and reserved at first with him, Sandor couldn’t exactly blamed her. He was taller than she was head and shoulders, he had the scar on his face and he was built like a house. Overall, he knew very well that he gave an imposing and unfriendly impression. But Sansa was always polite, always inquiring about his day and small things about himself.

Once Sansa placed her order, usually a latte of some sort and a lemon bar, she would go and sit within sight of the cash register and Sandor could keep on looking at her. She would get her laptop and work, curiosity had once gotten the best of him, turns out, she was writing a romance book. He didn’t understand nor know the legend in which her book was based, but nevertheless, he encouraged her and wished her well.

Sandor had also started putting ‘Little bird’ on her order and, he had given her an extra lemon bar here and there. The bright smile she always gave him made him feel warm inside and nearly made him swoon. So much for him being cold and opposed to love.

And today, as Sansa opened the door, and smiled at him, Sandor knew that he was doomed. Sansa formed herself in line, there were only two others in front of her, which Sandor hurried over so they could move away and give her his attention.

“Morning Little bird,” Sandor spoke at her, loud enough to be heard over the constant jazz music that was on the café. “What will be this time?”

Sansa beamed at him, damned it, she looked so pretty dressed in a pale pink dress, hair loose and flats. “Hazelnut latte please Sandor, and oh! A bar of lemon bar and a cinnamon cookie package!”

Sandor nodded and marked it on the register, “Someone’s having a sweet tooth.” He finally had gotten to where he could joke and she would know it was a joke. “That’d be 6 on the dot.”

Sansa pulled a ten and gave it to him, and when he gave her her change, she dropped it smiling to the tip jar. “How’s work coming along today?”

Sandor shrugged, and moved prepared her order, “Not so bad, you arrived before the rush today. So you get some peace for your work, how’s the novel coming along?”

“It’s coming,” Sansa lifted her shoulders, but a frown came to her face. “I’m having some difficulty with a character, who knew that characters took a life of their own and made demands?”

“Not me,” Sandor, who had never written anything besides educational papers, was puzzled, but kept working until Sansa’s latte was done, then walked to the display and grabbed both the bar and the cookie package. “But I’m sure you’ll get a hang of it.”

Sansa beamed at him as he placed her order in front of her. “Thank you, Sandor!” She took her order, and made her way to her usual table, she placed her thing down and then pulled her laptop, she opened it and began her work.

Sandor watched her for a few moments, then shook his head and began to check for anything else to do. He had not lied that Sansa had arrived before the work rushed, so he checked the bakery items, and cleaned the area around the register and made sure the hot water for tea was ready. And when he finished right on time, for as soon as he finished, customers hit at the rush hour. He had to concentrated, but he still managed to cast some looks at Sansa, watched her from the corner of his eye as she sip her latte and she had already finished her bar and was munching on her cookies.

Once the rush hour passed, Sandor was tired and worn. “You alright Sandor?” Sansa asked, and when he looked around, he realized that they were the only two of them in the café.

“Rush hour took more out of me than expected,” Sandor admitted. “They left me to man the café alone today.”

Sandor watched as Sansa frowned, and looked around, noticing that they were alone. She then pointed at the chair in front of her, “Can you sit? Even for a moment?”

Sandor hesitated, but then, he pulled the chair and sat down, “A minute,” he grumbled, but already feeling light at the thought of being with Sansa for a few minutes. “Boss didn’t get an extra hand for me today.”

“That’s not fair to you,” Sansa frowned. “Who owns this place?”

“Cersei Lannister.” Sandor didn’t notice that Sansa had frozen in her spot. “And she put a lackey of hers as manager, he’s never here either.”

“Mother of Joffrey Baratheon?” Sandor looked up, Sansa’s voice sounded much lower than her usual chirpy tone.

“I think so,” Sandor didn’t keep up with that. But he recalled Cersei speaking of her ‘Joff’. “Why?”

“I had the… ‘privilege’ of dating Joffrey. He’s absolutely horrid, and Cersei too, so I’m sorry Sandor, you deserve better.”

Oh. Of course, because nice as Sansa was, she would gravitate towards handsome men. It’s stupid, why should he ever think he’d had a chance with her. Sandor stood, fortunately, there was a client walking in, he rushed to help tend to him. It was a good thing the man saved him before he made a fool out of himself by asking Sansa out.

Sandor did his best to ignore Sansa, but he couldn’t, because he could feel her gaze on him. Then, three other customers came in and he could pretend to give them his attention, but he knew that he was in a bad mood and it was leaking to his work, because the customers seemed to be unusually polite.

Sandor had thought of giving Sansa another lemon bar, but before he could, he saw her pick her things up. Balls, she was leaving already. Then, much to his surprise, she approached the front where he stood behind the register. She smiled at him, “I know this isn’t normal,” she told him. “But I wanted to ask if you’d like to go out in a date?”

Sandor froze. He couldn’t possibly have heard right. Sansa Stark, woman of his dreams did just not ask him out. But then, realized that something was up, because she nearly panic and began to back peddle.  “Fine.” He managed to get out.

It was Sansa’s turn to freeze and give him a doubting look. “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s fine.”

He shook his head, “No,” damn it all to hell, his throat was dried and he was barely managing to utter single syllables words. “I mean, I’d like to.”

Sansa’s face cleared, “Oh! Great then! When are you free?”

“Saturday after 3.” Sandor’s heart beat loud, he was sure that Sansa could hear it. “Anywhere you want to go is fine.” Good, he managed to speak this time without sounding too desperate.

“Movies?” Sansa asked, a small smile on her face. “Maybe something after?”

“Movies and something sounds good.” Oh what a bloody idiot he was. Sandor knew he sounded like a fool, but truth be told, it wasn’t very often that girls like Sansa asked him out. One had asked him out for a bet. But he held no such fear in regards of Sansa, because she was actually a nice person who treated people with respect.

Sansa beamed at him, “Great! Then, how about we see at the movies at, say 5? That way you have time to do whatever you need without rushing?”

Sandor nodded quite frantically, “Yes, that works.”

“Excellent! Then, I’ll see you tomorrow Sandor, I have some things to take care off, bye!” With that Sansa rushed out of the café, not giving him the chance to say goodbye.

But he was happy, and Sandor knew himself to know that he was grinning like a loon. For once, he didn’t care.

[ddagent]

Jaime is a fan of actress!Brienne and her show Oathkeeper, even going so far as to cosplay at events she attends. He is not, however, a fan of her love interest, played by Hyle Hunt. YES PLEASE

“Seven Hells, mate, you look exactly like Goldenhand!” 

Jaime grinned at the man ahead of him in the queue. He looked down at his breastplate; the burnished steel and actual gold lion heads. “What, this old thing?”

“Um, yes! You look more like Goldenhand than the guy they got to play him on Oathkeeper!” 

As his fellow con attendee nudged his friends and pointed at Jaime’s breastplate and broadsword, his brother sighed. Jaime frowned. “What?”

“You know full well that you look exactly like Goldenhand the Just. Not only because Goldenhand was a Lannister, but because you spent more than people spend on a house on your cosplay.” 

Jaime shrugged as best he could in his armour. “You’re always saying I should live a little.”

“Yes, but buy a yacht; a round of drinks in a bar. Not a historically accurate suit of armour and an actual Valyrian steel blade.” 

“It’s foam. Wouldn’t get through the metal detectors otherwise.” 

Tyrion hung his head, but quickly lifted it as the doors to King’s Landing Comic-Con opened. Jaime did not share his brother’s love of wine or women, and Tyrion did not share his love of fencing or boxing, but the television show Oathkeeper was something that they could enjoy together. They had viewing parties every week, and were now attending their first convention in the hope of meeting the cast and crew. Tyrion, and no doubt most of the men in the queue, were hoping to meet Margaery Tyrell, famous for playing Queen Rose on the show. 

Jaime, however, had his eye on someone else. 

As the queue progressed inside, Jaime rested his hand on the scabbard he hoped to get signed by Brienne Tarth, the actress playing Lady Alysanne, who would later become the Blue Knight. As a child, Jaime had been fascinated by stories of Ser Blue and Goldenhand; as an adult, he had devoured a series of historical fiction novels set in the period. The show was...okay. Far too much nudity; several factual inaccuracies that Jaime did not care for at all. But Brienne Tarth was perfect. 

And today, he would get to meet her. 

The line pitched forward, and the Lannister brothers entered the exhibition centre. The cast and crew of Oathkeeper were sat at a string of tables on the east side; queues already forming for autographs and selfies. Tyrion pointed at the furthest table. “There she is. Margaery Tyrell.”

“And Jon Snow beside her. He looks confused.”

“Probably can’t remember what show he’s on.” They shared a laugh. The Wolf King and the White Walkers were the most boring storyline on Oathkeeper in Jaime’s opinion. “And there’s your least favourite person.” 

“I’d give up my entire inheritance to see Cersei at a convention, but I don’t think that’s her.” Tyrion rolled his eyes and pointed at the table closest to them; sitting behind it was the actor who played Goldenhand. Hyle Hunt. “Oh, that least favourite person. Smith save us all, he’s terrible. I don’t know why they haven’t fired him. He can’t act. And he has no chemistry with Brienne. None.”

“You know, I think I might have heard this before. Was it the critical reviews of last season? The online fan boards?” Tyrion tapped his thumb and forefinger on his chin. “No, I think it was you during every episode.”

Jaime glared at his brother. “Don’t you have Margaery Tyrell to meet?” 

His brother grinned. “That I do. Meet back here when we’re done? We can have a look at the stalls before the photo ops.” Jaime nodded. “Fare thee well, Goldenhand. Go get your maiden.”

He flipped his brother the finger; Tyrion cackling as joined the throng of people desperate to meet the beauty playing Queen Rose. Jaime had no interest in Margaery Tyrell. Or, in fact, any of the other actors from Oathkeeper signing at the convention that day. He only had eyes for Brienne Tarth. Fuck. Jaime wiped his damp hand on his historically accurate breeches and tried to recall his plan of what to say. He’d been practising it in the mirror for months ever since Tyrion had sent him a link to the con. At least he’d have some time to wait in the queue to collect himself. 

But, as Jaime approached Brienne Tarth’s table, he saw that no one was waiting. Margaery Tyrell had a ticketing system attached to her signing. Even Hyle fucking Hunt had a queue of ten people. But no one wanted to talk to the woman playing the first female knight. Fuck that. 

Jaime approached the desk. Up close, he could see the freckles adorning her cheeks in a way that an HD television could never represent; the white scar above her lip that they covered with make-up. And when she lifted her head, bemusement crossing her features at his presence, he realised that Brienne’s eyes really were that blue. Fuck. 

“Hello,” she greeted, and Jaime lost all power of thought and speech. “Would you like an autograph?” 

He wet his top lip, struggling for the words. All he could think was blue. “Yes,” he managed to get out. “Yes, I would.” 

Jaime handed her assistant a twenty dragon note. He’d intended to get the scabbard signed, but instead, he looked at the array of stills in front of Brienne. All were group shots; some of the cast, two of her and Hyle. None of Lady Alysanne. He frowned. “Do you have any stills of just you?”

This time it was Brienne’s turn to lose the power of speech. She glanced at the photographs in front of her, muttering to herself, “No one really—” before cutting off her sentence and turning to her assistant. “Podrick, do we have those stills from last season?”

“I think so; let me check.”

Podrick, good lad that he was, produced a slim stack of production shots of Lady Alysanne: one at Queen Rose’s wedding, and one in her blue armour; a gift from Goldenhand. Jaime chose the armoured picture. Brienne beamed, and warmth spread through him at the sight of her smile. “That’s my favourite, too. What’s your name?”

“Jaime.”

Brienne laughed, immediately clamping her hand over her mouth as she did so. Her blue eyes widened; her hand resting upon his wrist in a gentle touch. “I am so sorry; I didn’t mean to–it’s just, you’re dressed as Goldenhand, and canonically, Goldenhand’s name was—”

“Jaime Lannister, I know.” He grinned, staring down more than once at Brienne’s hand on his wrist. “I’m named after him. And you’re named after the Blue Knight.” 

At that, Brienne retreated, leaning backwards in her seat. “I’ve never said that in any interviews.” 

“You didn’t need to. I know my history. Better than the Oathkeeper producers that’s for sure.”

Brienne snorted, betraying her own opinion, but quickly composed herself as she scribbled on the still of Lady Alysanne. She handed Jaime his autograph. “I really like your cosplay, Jaime.”

“And I really like you—” Fuck, Jaime, don’t be weird. “—your portrayal of Lady Alysanne. She’s my favourite character.” 

Behind him, someone cleared their throat. A couple of people had joined Brienne’s queue, now; group stills requiring Brienne’s signature clutched in their hands. Jaime nodded at Brienne and left her to continue signing. When he was out of the pit, he looked at the autograph Brienne had given and grinned.  

To Ser Jaime, 

You are truly a knight of the Seven Kingdoms; thank you for your bravery in approaching my table when few else would. Enjoy Season 3.

Lady Brienne of Tarth

Jaime couldn’t stop smiling, even when Tyrion returned clutching his own autograph. 

[charlie-sloane-art]

The Fair Play 2

Summary: You’re about to leave for the funeral at Hightower, but first you need to revisit the past and make things right.

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Reader x Oberyn Martell

It turns out, your dear Caspian was loved by many in the capital. He took the hearts of many and enchanted twice as much. It infuriated Cersei to know that her dear kingly boy’s wedding would have to be postponed in order to account for half the missing guests that would be on their way back from Hightower, in the Reach. 

The funeral procession would take a few weeks to reach the city by the southern coast and from there the actual funeral would last another week- the Hightowers had it in mind to remind everyone what their dearest second son meant to everyone. Regardless of their efforts, you knew what he meant to you, and no one else could say the same. He had been your heart, the everlasting flame in your chest. 

That wasn’t to say the pain wouldn’t subside and leave a space for the massive ache of vengeance. That massive ache came one sunny afternoon as you packed to follow the procession. A letter slipped from your trunks, a letter you had meant to read but gotten sidetracked from when Caspian had grabbed your hand and kissed it, pulling you in with a whisper of “My love, leave the reading to those with nothing better to do. I’ve got so much more planned for us today.” You had let the red stamped letter go and had forgotten about it until now.

Breaking the Lannister seal on it, you shook your head “Of course you would have distracted me from a letter from Tywin Lannister.” Your stomach churned. Had it been important? Surely you hadn’t accidentally caused a misstep. Surely if it was important enough Tywin would have followed up in person. 

The letter read: “Here’s to you finding this letter in good spirits and health. Lady Mormont, I have a most auspicious proposal for your likeness. It serves us both well for you to hear it out. My son, Jaime, is- as you know- quite fond of you. And now with the lack of his sword hand, I am afraid for his ability to continue serving appropriately in the service of our King. I would not be a responsible Hand of the King if I did not entertain the notion of his dismissal from such a role. My solution is simple: I shall offer you the Ladyship of Casterly Rock. In exchange, you marry my son and become the richest woman in Westeros and my son has reason to retire from the service of the White Cloaks, and so there I would have a proper heir to Casterly Rock and the Lannister fortune, so that I too may retire in good standing. I hope you will consider this offer. Your obedient servant, T. Lannister.” The letter was dated for the day before Caspian had taken his fall. Of course. You knew something must’ve been wrong when the talented man you had seen spar countless times on a balance beam took such an obvious fall. Caspian could stand on a razor’s edge and not tip over. And there was no proof left of anything but a fall when his body was found, so any accusations of a most foul deed would be difficult to prove if not impossible. “Stop it.” You murmured to yourself, taking a step away from the letter that rested on the valise on your bed. “You’re grieving. Nothing more.” Surely these were the subconscious machinations of a mind so bent on grief it was trying to weave itself a most distracting web of conspiracies. But, maybe not. You were sure to tuck the thought in the back of your mind for after the funeral. Perhaps someone there may know more than they let on and so weave your web further. 

Before your departure, there were a few wrongs you had to make right, or at the very least address. “Brienne,” You found yourself knocking on her door before your departure from King’s Landing. No response followed your inquiry “Brienne, open up. I know you’re-”

“I’m not in there.” Her voice spoke behind you.

“Oh. Well, don’t I look foolish.” You smiled uneasily, pacing on your feet.

“Yes, you do. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She tried to brush past you but you intercepted. Brienne could be a gentle giant when she wanted, and let you block her path.

“I ought to apologize.”

“Yes, you should.” Brienne straightened her spine and you took her queue.

“I apologize for lying to you about my pregnancy. I was never pregnant, in fact Jaime never so much as touched me before you found us in the woods.”

“And after?”

You shook your head “I haven’t come to talk about men with you. I’ve come to apologize before our paths diverge. In any case, you will make sure he’s alright?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Please, Brienne, you know me better than that.”

“Yes, Y/N.”

It made you smile, her admittance to familiarity “Take care, Brienne. I want to see you after the funeral in good health.”

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand.” She took your hand and you realized how gentle her touch was, a conscious choice of movement.

“Yes?” Your voice quietened, meeting her blue gaze.

“How were you so sure the lie would work?”

“Sending a young woman to be executed for treason, that would keep you up at night for only a day or so.” You shrugged “But, you have the heart of a true knight, Brienne. Sending an innocent child to the Stark executioner with its mother...it wasn’t your style. I could read it the second we met.” You walked closer to her and leaned on to your tiptoes to reach your lips against her cheek “Take care, Brienne the Good Hearted.”

“And you, my friend.” You could tell she didn’t want to sound as weepy as she did.

“I hate to prolong a good-bye, but have you seen Lady Sansa anywhere?”

“She keeps to herself in the godswood lately.”

“Perfect. Two birds, one stone.” You left Brienne with another kiss, missing her cheek and landing on her chin instead “I better to see you again, Brienne of Tarth.”

“On most accounts, it’s apparently very hard to miss me.”

Your smile widened “And now she grows a sense of humor.”

“Forgive my tardiness, my Lady.” 

“You’re more than forgiven for it, my Lady.” You hugged her tightly, trying to fit your arms around her body but being unable to.

You found Sansa where Brienne said she would be: in the godswood. She wasn’t praying, she’d given up the practice long ago. Instead, she was reading. That was until you stepped on a branch and the crack of it breaking underfoot made her look up at you “Oh no, not you.” Sansa shook her head, biting her bottom lip. If there was one person who could accost her in the godswood to the gods of the north, it would be the only other northerner in King’s Landing: you.

“Sansa,” You began but she stood up abruptly

“I don’t wish to speak with you.”

“Well, I do.”

“I don’t want to hear whatever excuses you have.”

“I have none. Sansa, I am not here to be forgiven. I do not expect your forgiveness, nor do I deserve it.” You approached her like you would a wary doe.

She paused, looking at her once-close friend up and down “What is it you want, then?”

“I wanted to see you. Sansa, I have missed you so much.” You sat down on one of the giant roots of the godstree, making room for your fair ginger-haired friend.

“You have?” She sat down, carefully, with enough distance to observe you.

“Yes. I miss our tea parties and our sewing competitions. I miss...I miss pretending to be each other’s princes in shining armor.” Had Sansa, only a year and a half younger than you, been the one to instill this idea that led to your enamoration of Caspian? Perhaps, but you couldn’t blame the poor girl. “I miss our conversations that stretched late into the night and I miss our revenge plots against your brothers.” You trailed off “Sansa, I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Robb would’ve cut your head off.” She spoke quietly about her late brother.

“Yes.”

“So why did you do it?” Her big blue eyes finally met yours and relief washed over you.

“I-” What could you say? That you were running away from a fate crueller than death and on the way decided to liberate the most valuable prisoner of war your ward-family had for your own protection? Suppose you could try “They were going to marry me off to a Karstark. Robb wouldn’t let me have a say in it. It was to keep the peace.”

“And you broke the peace.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Sansa looked back down at her lap and that’s when you took her hand that rested on her knee. She spoke your name in a hushed warning.

“It’s alright. No one is here but us. No one is watching.”

“Someone is always watching.” Sansa looked up and around the still woods.

“You’re a Lannister now. No one would dare hurt you.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Tyrion’s not a bad man, Sansa.”

“He is if he’s one of them.”

“I doubt he had as much a say in being ‘one of them’ as you did.” Sansa turned to look at you for the comment and pulled her hand away. 

“You have no idea what it has been like.”

“No, I don’t.” You turned, shifting to be closer to her “And for that loneliness, I am sorry.”

“Just leave.” She sighed, dejected.

“Sansa,-”

“Leave me alone.”

She flinched away from your touch when you leaned over to kiss the side of her head. “Please,” You whispered to her “Please send a letter. Even if you have nothing to say. Even if you believe it is stupid. I want to hear from you, Sansa.” You left her with those words hanging in the air.

On the return to your bedchambers where your valise sat waiting with the two only other dresses you owned, you saw a familiar face dressed in burgundy leather and riding pants “Jaime?”

He turned on his heel in front of your locked door and took in the sight of you “Rough day, Cubby?”

“Apparently.” You rolled your eyes at his comment “Are you here to send me off?” Your heart tugged at the idea of a permanent separation.

“No, actually. I’m here to escort you to Hightower.”

“Really?” The feeling in your chest elevated.

“Yes. Turns out, neither Queen nor King need me as much as I thought they did. I am free to go.”

You paused, suspicions rising “You’re not wearing the white cloak.”

“I have no more use for it.” 

“What does that mean?”

“I was dismissed from my post last night. No one wants a one-handed knight, it would seem.” Jaime avoided his gaze on you. It was peculiar, you thought. At the same time that you had become single and available, the King had dismissed Jaime and made him free to be Lord of Casterly Rock. Perhaps it was a coincidence.

“Cubby, are you alright?” “Hm? Oh, yes, I’m fine. I’m glad we won’t be separated.”

Jaime smiled widely “Me too.” Was he in on this plot as well? Only one way to know.

“I finally read your father’s letter.” You spoke as you opened your door and let him into your quarters.

“My father sent you a letter? That’s...awfully formal of him. What did the letter say?”

“He offered you up.” You sighed as if it wasn’t a big deal “Like the juiciest mutton at the feast.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He Cersei’d you.”

“And that means?”

“Jaime,” You scoffed a laugh “He proposed I marry you as a reward for my returning you.”

Jaime’s only thought was “Did he ask Brienne too?”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“No, I mean...I don’t understand. I should find my own bride now that I am Lord of Casterly Rock,-”

“Warden of the West? I guess not. You still have dear old dad to contend with it seems.” There was a pause as Jaime looked down at the breakfast table you had made a shrine on. “What did you respond?”

“I didn’t.”

“Why not?” He spoke carefully, tactical thinking, diplomacy, and careful consideration, not really his strong suit.

“Because the letter came a day before Caspian’s fall.”

His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours immediately “Surely you can’t be insinuating,-”

“I insinuate nothing.” You put your hands up, sitting on your trunk “I simply state mere facts.”

Jaime dismissed the matter entirely, still reeling “I can’t believe he would do this to me.”

“He did it to Cersei, to Tyrion. It was only a matter of time before he did it to you.” You reached over and plopped a grape into your mouth from the bowl of fruits behind your makeshift shrine. “On the bright side, my dearest,” You smiled crookedly at him “now you know how it feels.”

“Well, it’s not the same.” He denied it, sitting across from you.

“How so?”

“You didn’t like the Karstark boy.”

“No. I didn’t want to marry the Karstark boy. He was perfectly fine as a human being.”

“Exactly. You didn’t want to marry him.”

“And where’s the difference, then?” You hummed, oblivious.

Jaime spoke before thinking “There.”

You sputtered “What?”

Jaime’s face grew red and he stood up, biting his cheek near bloody “I suppose if I had to marry anyone I could do worse than you.”

“You said,” You stood with him “the difference is I didn’t want to marry him. And you do? You want to marry me?”

Jaime took a deep breath, his eyes darting around the ceiling. Why did his clothes feel as heavy as his old armour? “Yes.”

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[justauthoring]

Corruption of Innocence (4/?)

Prompt: The Capital was cruel. The people there even more so. If this arrangement truly was meant to follow through, Jaime knew you would be corrupted by Kings Landing. But staring at you now, with bright doe eyes and a soft smile on your lips as you engaged in a conversation with your brother, hushed so as not to be disrespectful, Jaime knew he would put all his focus and strength into making sure that never happened.

A/N: I KNOW THIS IS SIMILAR TO @reader-imagines “VOW”, BUT I PROMISE THAT AFTER THIS PART IT WILL BE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. Yes, I know I took inspiration, you don’t have to remind me. I am not copying, I simply used her series for inspiration. But after this part, nothing will be the same, not even remotely similar

Anyways, now that that’s done, lol, thank you all for your amazing support! After much thought and help from my mom, I finally know the direction I want to take this series and let me tell you, I’M HELLA EXCITED. Things are only going to get better from here, I assure you. So please, keep commenting, reblogging and liking, because it inspires me to write more and upload frequently.

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Jaime x Stark!Reader

Based off of: Game of Thrones 01x07, 01x08 and 01x09

With your father’s arrest, things only became more strained between you and Jaime.

It didn’t help that he’d dragged you along to his father’s fleet before taking you along with his own army to Riverrun, for reasons you still didn’t understand. You guessed, in ways, it was better then being stuck in the Capital with Cersei’s glares and the looming threat of guards following you every step you took.

You had to abandon both your sisters and your father, but you’d been okay with it. Because when you left things had been fine, maybe a little shaky. But you could only imagine the chaos that has ensued with your father’s arrest, leaving you wondering what would happen to you along the way. You wondered what was happening with your sisters now, if they were okay. If your father was okay... stuck in a cell that he had no reason being in.

You stayed in your tent almost ninety percent of the time. Jaime’s men didn’t like you, and they made that perfectly clear. Plus, it didn’t dwell well on you being the only woman in sight for miles. If you left the safety of your tent, you were either regarded with glares or lecherous smiles, both of which the implications behind them were easy enough for you to understand.

All you’d done was trade one cage for another. 

But, spending all day in your tent gave you lots of time to listen. The guards stationed outside of your tent never stopped chatting it seemed, and through them you’d learned a lot about why Jaime, Tywin and the Lannister army had all left the Capital. You knew that Jaime was using his somewhat smaller army than his father’s to defeat the Riverlords, which he’s managed to do. You know he’s trying to land siege on Riverrun currently as well.

However, you also knew that your brother, Robb Stark, has gathered your father’s men upon his arrest. It’s that thought that keeps you stable everyday. That stops you from wasting away in your small tent, lonelier then you’ve ever been before. You remembered when your days had been filled with friends and family and those you loved. And now your life was a sad reflection of it. You missed your family, and you hoped you’d be able to see them again soon.

Jaime and you rarely spoke. What little bit of trust you’d had for him had considerably lessened since his attack on your father, and now, with word of his arrest, you placed all the blame on Jaime. It wasn’t fair, you knew. While Jaime might have some place in it all, which you knew he did, he definitely wasn’t the only one to blame. His entire family should fall to blame, but you didn’t much care. He turned out to be the husband you’d feared him to be.

Even if by vow the two of you were family, you always came second in his eyes.

A whine pulls you from your thoughts. Your head tilts to the right, eyes falling on that of Antheia. The sight of her brings a small smile to your lips, her head coming to a rest on your thigh as she stares up at you with a pout. Without hesitation, your hand comes to rest on her head, scratching it lightly. 

“You’ll never leave me, right?” You question softly, the edges of your lips curled into a soft smile as your eyes crinkle with delight. Antheia let’s a small mewl out in response to your words, shuffling slightly on her paws as she pushes herself closer to you, her head tilting into your palm, clearly enjoying your attention. “Just like i’ll never leave you.”

-

When Jaime enters the tent, your back is turned to him.

You don’t notice his presence, or, if you do, you don’t make note of it. Jaime feels his feet slow as he takes a moment to glance down at you, shoulders falling. He can hear your soft whispers as you gesture down to your wolf beneath you, clearly lost in your own thoughts.

The sight is sad, Jaime realizes. The image of you, that is. He’s never seen someone look so lonely surrounded by thousands, and it’s clear that you don’t fit in. In the midst of a Lannister army, even with the same last name, it’s clear you’re a Stark. A wolf in a den of lions. Jaime hasn’t seen you smile in days, and he wonders if he ever will again.

With your father being arrested for treason, he figures not.

Jaime wonders if bringing you here had been a mistake. If he should’ve left you back at Kingslanding, within the safety of your chambers. But then he remembers that the Capital isn’t any safer for you then his camp is. You would still be a lone wolf in a den of lions there, and at least here he could keep an eye on you. There’s no telling what Cersei would do if he left you with her alone. And with your father being accused of treason, it was even more dangerous for a Stark now.

So, no, he hadn’t made a mistake. He knows that, but can’t help but wonder when he sees you, almost as if you live in your own cloud of darkness and despair.

Jaime can’t explain the feelings that run through him. He doesn’t know if what he feels for you is love or just pity. But he does know that he doesn’t ever want to see you in danger. He wants to protect you, keep you safe, that much he knows at least. And maybe it runs deeper, but Jaime’s thoughts still often return to that of his sister and he’s never felt more conflicted then he has these past few weeks. His thoughts are jumbled into a mess of confusion, and he wishes everything would just become clear.

It didn’t seem like that would happen anytime soon, so Jaime settled for keeping you as safe as he possibly could. For heeding to the vows he’d made to you on your wedding day and keeping you safe from the cruel dangers of the world.

Coughing slightly, to catch your attention, Jaime steps forward as if he hadn’t just been watching you. You instantly turn towards him, blinking at the sight of him. Jaime can feel your gaze follow his own as he crosses your shared tent, moving towards the table placed in the middle. He grabs his sword off the table, sliding it into it’s halter before finally, his gaze falls on you.

The empty look in your eyes is almost like a slap to his face. But he forces himself not to dwell on it longer than a second, straightening his back out, squaring his shoulders. You speak before he has the chance; “you’re back early,” you comment, setting your hands in your lap, crossing them. 

“Only for a moment,” Jaime nods, gesturing to his sword. “The guards will remain stationed outside the tent. I’ve given them orders to not let anyone but me inside or out.”

You raise a brow; “is something happening?”

Jaime pauses, pondering for a moment. He wonders if he should tell you that, yes, something is happening. That he was planning on slaughtering your brother and his men. This was war after all, and he had no intention of being merciless. But, it’s that thought that stops him from telling you the truth. It won’t do him any benefits to tell you the truth, when you’re already mistrusting of him.

Instead, Jaime shrugs. “Nothing of your concern.” It’s cold, he’s aware. The jerk back and widening of your eyes tells him of that fact. There’s a moment where Jaime feels guilty, wondering if he should’ve tried to be a little nicer. But, he also knows that if he had been, you would’ve pestered, wouldn’t have left it alone. Sometimes, being cold was the best thing he could do to help you.

When you don’t response, Jaime takes that as his queue to leave. However, just before he leaves the tent completely, your voice halts him.

“Because why should your wife be concerned.”

And for a moment, Jaime just stands there. Let’s your words sink in, pondering on whether he should reply. Ultimately, he decides against it and he takes another step forward, letting the flap of the tent flap shut in response behind him, leaving you all alone in the tent.

He only glances back at the tent, imagining you inside, sat there, alone, once more before walking off.

-

An hour or so after Jaime departure, it had been nothing but silent. Until it isn’t.

The first thump causes you to jump, your back straightening in alert as your head turns towards the exit of the tent. Antheia also becomes alert, poised before you protectively as you listen closely. You hear the sounds of metal clanging against metal, the sound of groaning and moaning, before another thump echoes. It almost sounds like a body hitting the floor.

Then, silence once again echoes.

Antheia lowly growls in response, and your eyes dart across the tent, looking for something to protect yourself with. The first thing your eyes land on is a candlestick and without hesitating, you jump to your feet, grabbing it off the table and holding it before yourself. You can hear faint footsteps, crunching against the dirt and grass of the ground. It’s only shuffles, the footsteps not really growing any nearer, but not distancing either.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then, there’s a definite footstep, and the edge of the tent flap curls up. You feel your breath get caught into your throat, your entire muscles seizing in panic as you inhale deeply, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever’s to come.

Then, a figure walks in, and your eyes widen when you realize who it is. Your candle stick thumbs to the ground, all sense of panic having left your body in seconds.

“Robb?”

His eyes fall on you the second you speak, widening when he realizes it’s you. That’s it actually you, his sister, stood before him. A sense of relief floods his expression, and he almost relaxes as he if he’d done what he came here to do. Like finding you had been his only goal. His grip on his sword lessens and all but clatters to the ground, forgetting himself for a moment as a wide smile grows on his lips. Before you know it, Robb is before you, engulfing you in his arms and pulling you close.

You instantly return his embrace, a soft sob leaving your lips as you bury your head into the crook of his neck. It almost feels like a dream, being in your brother’s arms once more, you can hardly believe it. You feel the great need to never let go of Robb again. You’d thought you’d never see him again. Even if your father had told you otherwise at first, the fear had never truly left your mind. 

One day, father had said. And he’d been right. Because he Robb was, holding you close, just like he’d done when you were kids and you’d have a nightmare. Or when Theon would scare you, and Robb wouldn’t hesitate to jump in and protect you.

As Robb pulls back, you blink, a tear escaping past your defenses and rolling down your cheek as you let out a small laugh. Robb’s left hand moves to your cheek, cupping it as he smiles down at you, his grin just as bright and wide as your own. 

“I can’t believe it,” you whisper, still in shock. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“I told you we’d see each other again.”

-

Jaime had been taken captive by your brother, a hefty prize in the battle to save your father and sisters.

You wonder, as you rode back to your brother’s camp, while you felt guilty. Why the thought of Jaime being a prisoner upset you so, even if you’d never say it outwardly. He was a Lannister after all, and not more than a few hours ago had you placed all the blame upon his shoulders. But now, with no certainty of what your brother planned to do with him, you felt guilty. You were worried for his safety and wellebeing. You... thought of his capture with disdain.

You don’t ponder on the thought, holding onto your brother tighter. You let your head rest against his back, staring out at the abyss of trees and grass and land before you. Until, Robb’s voice interrupts the silence, “Y/N, look.” You heed to his words, raising your head up off his back to stare past his shoulders. When your eyes land on your mother, the wave of disbelief floods through you once more.

You’re suddenly anxious to get off the horse, to reach your mother and run into her arms like you used to when you were a little girl. And even if you’re still across the field, you swear your eyes meet hers and you watch as she tries to hold back her own tears, immense relief flooding her entire body. She’d been scared, you realized in that moment, that Robb would not make it back but she hadn’t expected you to be with him. 

When you finally reach her, you all but jump off the back of Robb’s horse. Your hands gather your skirts, picking up the speed in your step as you rush over to your mother, a choked sob leaving her lips as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. You fall into her embrace easily, cuddling into her just like you had Robb, your eyes falling shut at the feeling of her hand on the back of your head, soothing you.

It had been so lonely these past few weeks. Sure, you’d had your father and sisters, but you’d barely been allowed to see them. And then you’d missed your mother and brother, terribly so. Yet, here you were, back in your mother’s arms and you couldn’t be more happier. More relieved. 

“My sweet, sweet girl,” your mother whispers, pulling back slightly to cup both of your cheeks. Her thumb works to wipe your tears away, smiling softly at the sight of you back in her grasp. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you whisper, your voice cracking as you lean into your mother once more.

You don’t notice it, too lost in your own thoughts. But as mother holds you close, her gaze rises, falling on Robb’s who hasn’t left your sides. She smiles at her eldest son, mouthing the words; “thank you.” It may not be all of her children, and there was still much more work to be done, but she at least had one of her daughters back. And she didn’t plan on letting you go anytime soon.

The moment is interrupted by the sounds of footsteps. You pull back from your mother’s grasp slightly, composing yourself when you notice Jaime, hands chained behind his back, being led over to where you and mother are stood with Robb. Your back straightens, as if remembering where you were, and you feel mother’s grip tighten on you slightly, holding you closer. You also don’t miss the way Robb steps in front of you, somewhat shielding you from view from Jaime who is unceremoniously dropped to the ground at your feet.

“By the time they knew what was happening, it had already happened,” Robb explains, glaring down at your husband. As Jaime picks himself up, eyes flickering to those around him, his eyes land on you. It’s the first time he’s seen you since he left you in that tent a few hours ago, and you inhale sharply as you meet his gaze, time slowing for a moment. However, his attention is pulled away the minute Robb presses the tip of his sword against Jaime’s chin, tilting his gaze towards him. 

“Lady Stark,” Jaime greets your mother, chuckling slightly. “I’d offer you my sword, but I seemed to have lost it.”

“It is not your sword that I want,” your mother growls. “Give me my daughters back. Give me my husband.”

Jaime’s eyes then land on you. “I believe you’ve already found one.”

Mother then pushes you behind her, you stumbling slightly in response as her voice turns colder, harsher. “All my daughters.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Jaime sighs; “I've lost them too, i’m afraid.”

“Kill him, Robb,” Theon suddenly speaks with force and you can’t help the gasp that leaves your lips. Instantly, your widen eyes fall on the back of your brothers head. “Send his head to his father. He cut down ten of our men. You saw him--”

Regrettably, Robb’s next words fill you with instant relief. “He’s more useful to us alive then dead.”

“Take him away and put him in irons,” Catelyn orders, her heavy gaze never leaving Jaime’s.

“We could end this war right now, boy,” Jaime offers as he’s brought up to his feet. “Save thousands of lives. You fight for the Starks, I fight for the Lannisters. Swords or lances, teeth, nails, choose your weapons and let’s end this, here and now.”

Lips parting, you swallow thickly.

“If we do it your way, Kingslayer,” Robb begins, “you’d win. We’re not doing it your way.”

“Come on, pretty man,” Greatjon growls, tugging Jaime away. You watch as he’s pulled away, biting your lip as laughter and cheering echoes on around you. Laughter and excitement you just can’t rejoice in. You’re happy, beyond happy, to be back with your mother and brother but as you watch Jaime be led away, you can’t help the empty feeling in your chest.

A empty feeling you thought would’ve gone now that you were with your family, but was still there, it the pit of your chest. And it was because of Jaime. Because Jaime’s safety was unsure and there was nothing, rightfully, you could do about it. 

Theon steps forward then, catching your attention. Robb can’t seem to mimic the smile on his face as he sighs. “I sent two thousand men to their grave today.”

“The bards will sing songs of their sacrifice,” Theon reminds.

“Aye,” Robb sighs, “but the dead won’t hear them.”

He turns to look at your mother, then you. As you meet his eyes, you nod softly, ignoring your own inner thoughts, encouraging him. That seems to give him the push he needs, stepping past Theon to face his army. “One victory does not make us conquerors. Did we free my father?” You frown at the mention of your father, shoulders falling as you envision the last time you’d spoken with him. “We saved my sister, yes,” you blink as Robb gestures to you, meeting his eyes briefly. “But what about the other two? Have we rescued them from the queen? Did we free the north from those who want us on our knees?

Pausing a moment, Robb let’s his eyes wander across his army. “This war is far from over.”

-

Part 5?

Let me know what you thought!

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[writings-of-bored-gal]

Protection

Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader

Part 1/?

Part 2

Summary: Jaime has taken it upon himself to provide safety for the eldest Stark daughter following the imprisonment of Lord Eddard. She must decide if she trust him in order to keep her and her family safe. 

Warnings: Mentions of incest, swearing

Author’s Note: So I’ve been wanting to write some Jaime stuff for ages because he deserves so much better. I’m really excited about where this is going to go! I gave it a shot and I hope you like it. 

Masterlist

______________________

The guards were flooding the castle. Her father was a traitor, or at least that’s what they’d tried to force her to believe. She hadn’t seen her younger sisters, Arya or Sansa, but she knew that she had to meet them on the other side of this. There was no other way.

“My lady.” Her heart stopped as she turned to face the voice. Jaime Lannister. She thought they’d become friends, but of course that went to hell the moment he’d hurt her father in that courtyard.

“Kingslayer.” She curtseyed, before beginning to run back up the stairs she’d come down on, the sound of metal clanging chasing her. She slammed the door behind her, locking it. She began to try and barricade, only to hear Jaime banging.

“Y/N!” He shouted through the door. “Let me in and I’ll keep you safe I swear it.”

“Because your oaths mean so much.” She replied, her voice dripping with angry sarcasm. She knew that would hurt his ego, but she also didn’t care, not anymore.

“I have a solution, please.” He begged. She’d never heard him beg before.

She hesitated, a box of heavy jewellery in her arms that she’d planned block the door with. “And how do I know you’ve not got an army of gold cloaks on the other side of this door, waiting to arrest me?”

“You don’t,” He sighed, “You have to trust me.”

“I don’t trust you any further than I can throw you.” She replied, but she unlocked the door, hoping a little risk might pay off.

He heard the lock click and his hand pushed the door open. The room was a mess where she’d began to take things apart to put in front of the door. The bed sheet was even already ripped, ready to make a rope for herself. Jaime couldn’t deny the fact that he was impressed by her speed.

She was standing by the window, breathing heavily. Her chest moving up and down. She wasn’t sure if her breathlessness came from her rushing about, or her fear. She hid it well, but the thought of her family in danger terrified her more than she thought was possible.

“I… I have a solution.” Jaime began tentatively. He thought about approaching her, trying to comfort her, but he knew better.

“So you’ve said.” She snapped back. A smirk formed on Jaime’s lips.

“I can take it away and call the city watch if you’d rather?” He raised his eyebrows as he said the words, knowing that would shut her up. She needed to listen if this was going to work.

“Okay.” She whispered. Jaime took her newfound quiet as a queue that he could relax a little. He said down on the torn mattress. He beckoned for her to join him, but she shook her head. Jaime sighed, this was going to be harder than he’d hoped.

“Y/N, will you marry me?” Jaime said, attempting a dashing grin in her direction.

She grabbed the jug of wine on the table next to him, and threw it in his face, before standing rigidly against the window again, waiting in silence for his next move. 

“I’ll admit,” Jaime finally said, wiping his eyes, “that’s not the response I was hoping for.”

“Well, what were you expecting?” She half screeched, half laughed. How could he be so nonchalant?

“Let me explain myself.” He continued to wipe himself down. She grabbed a soft, white towel from the floor and walked over to him, sitting herself on the bed, offering the towel to him. He nodded and took it. They sat silent for a moment, Jaime cleaning wine from his uniform, her sitting silently watching him.  

“My father’s never wanted me to be a knight.” Jaime spoke as he continued to clean himself down. She couldn’t tear her eyes away as he slid the towel up and down his muscular arms, wiping away the red of the wine. “He’s always wanted me to be the Lord of Casterly Rock, but it’s never appealed to me until now. I’ll give up my knighthood to protect you, I’ll marry you, Lady Stark.”

“But I don’t understand, why?” She stared at him, still enchanted by his looks but also bewildered by his proposal.

“Because whilst we may not love one another,” He raised his eyebrows and she blushed, “I have grown fond of you. You’re not like- well you’re not like any other woman I’ve had the pleasure of being with, and I think perhaps one day you’ll be able to make this up to me.”  

She wasn’t sure whether to believe him. Hell, Jaime wasn’t even sure he believed himself. His reason wasn’t exactly a lie. He was fond of the oldest Stark girl. He’d watched her be kind to Tyrion at Winterfell, and then again act nobly when confronted by Joffrey on the travels down from Winterfell to Kings Landing, including sacrificing her beloved direwolf for her sister’s continued betrothal to the prince. Yes, he was certainly fond of the girl, but his motivation remained the same as it had for the majority of his life; Cersei.

Jaime had done everything for her, he’d even pushed the Stark boy from the tower to keep their relationship a secret, but things had changed. Joffrey had become more manic, more obsessed with the idea of power, and now that Robbert was dead, Cersei was sure to put the boy on the throne. Jaime couldn’t support it, not anymore. He was the boy’s father, and yet he wasn’t, not really. This was his attempt to save his wrong doings, save the things that were right in the world, and she was what was right with the world in his eyes.

She took a deep breath. She had to make a decision that she didn’t have time to make. Jaime was the Kingslayer, the oath breaker, the rumoured sister fucker. But what choice did she have? He’d never done anything cruel to her, and this was her chance to save her family. Poor Sansa and Arya still in the Keep, not knowing what was happening. She had to go through with it.

“I accept your proposal, Lord Jaime.” She said finally.

“Then it’s decided.” Jaime stood up. “I’ll write to my father and tell him the good news.”

She stood up to join him, and he looked at her more intently. She blushed as he took her hand and kissed it softly.

“You’re safe now.” He whispered, and for the first time since leaving Winterfell, she felt like maybe she finally could be, eventually.