#jaime arrives at winterfell

[esther-dot]

Pride & Prejudice AUs

You Look Like A Movie, You Sound Like A Song 2k @jonsastan

She had met Jon Targaryen there. It was a complete accident and at first, Sansa thought, a complete misfortune. He was drenched from an impromptu swim in his pond, and she was flustered, not wanting him to think she was vying for his attention. But as she had attempted to make her hurried escape, he had found her and invited her parents to stroll with him around the gardens. He had offered her kindness, and thoughtfulness, he had talked with her parents, discussed the present state of politics with her father and chatted knowledgeably about gardens with her mother.

A Certain Step Toward Falling in Love 2k by @comma-splice

Jon Snow returns North after departing abruptly one year ago.

The Bennet Sisters - a P&P AU comic by @melinaillustrations

P&P Gifset by @sardoniyx, P&P Gifset by @dcbicki, P&P Gifset by deactivated

Persuasion AUs

Who Loves Longest, Who loves Best 1k by @ladysaruka

After refusing him years ago, Sansa sees her cousin once again.

Persuasion edits one, two , three by @glueck

Mansfield Park AUs

Half Agony, Half Hope 10k, incomplete by @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth

After the death of his disgraced mother, Jon Snow is taken in by his uncle's family, the Starks of Winterfell. He grows up alongside his cousins, including the beautiful and kind-hearted Sansa, but knowing he can never truly be their equal, he fears he has little choice but to leave the place he's come to call home. corresponding moodboard

Catch Me If You Can 34k (P&P and Emma inspired too) by @ben-barnes-is-my-husband

Set in the countryside of Regency England, Jon Snow has been in love with Sansa Stark for as long as he can remember. He wants her as his wife, but Sansa is not sure she wants to be a wife at all, and she knows she doesn’t want to marry the pragmatic and boring Jon. She’d rather help Theon Greyjoy come out of his shell and play matchmaker. But then Jaime Lannister comes to town and Jon finds he has some serious competition for Sansa…

Moments Like This (So Few and Far Between) 3k by @lydiamartenism

Mama and Papa left the house to go pick up Jon, the son of her father’s oldest friend. Three weeks ago, the phone rang and their parent’s announced that Jon would be coming to live with them since his mother passed away and had no one else to take care of him.

Northanger Abbey AUs

The Lady in White 7k by @kissed-by-circe

Dragonstone Manor had looked like it had woken only a few days earlier, after a slumber of several years, if not decades, and Sansa had felt like the heroine of a gothic novel, a mysterious, naive girl with a dark past or a dark secret, arriving at the opening scene of the most dramatic story of all times. Or Sansa as Katherine Morland in a Jane Eyre Setting.

Sense & Sensibility AUs

In Such Jocund Company 2k @maybetwice

It would be no matter at all for Captain Snow to return to the north after seven months’ absence, had Sansa’s heart not changed entirely in that time. A remix of Colonel Brandon and Marianne Dashwood from Sense and Sensibility.

Emma & Clueless AUs

if i loved you less 2k by @ladystarks

Her father has, often and fondly, told Sansa that she and Mr. Snow bite at each other like wolves, but he hardly understood that their verbal sparring was as exhilarating as a sport well done, or a match coming together under Sansa’s skilled hands. corresponding artwork

Sansa: A NOVEL in Five Parts 15k by @imagineagreatadventure

Sansa Stark, handsome, clever, rich, hopes to establish herself as her town's foremost matchmaker. After seeing her governess Miss Shae married to the rich and clever Mr. Tyrion Lannister, she feels as though she deserves that title. Her dear friend and cousin, Jon Targaryen, heartily disagrees and is quite proven right when Sansa sets her sights on marrying off her newest and dearest friend Jeyne Poole to the vicar Mr. Baelish.

A Baldwin and a Betty 2k

Jon drives to the Valley to give Sansa a ride home.

Emma AU art by @dcvahkiin and Clueless art by wolvesofspring

Emma Gifset by @dcbicki

General Regency AUs

No Notion of Loving by Halves 2k @darkmagyk

The Stark cousin, Jon, goes home to discuss matters concerning the entail on Winterfell. In which Jon is a really good guy, and I flagrantly disregard how entails actually work.

Manners and Misunderstandings 114k, WIP by @x-winging-it

The Stark sisters have travelled all the way to London to begin their first season, leaving behind the familiar world of Winterfell Hall and a disappointed Jon Stark- with whom the eldest Miss Stark has been convinced to break off a connection. In London they join family friends the Baratheons and the fashionable young Tyrells in a world of romance and balls. Meanwhile Gendry Waters has been plucked out of the life he knew to become his ailing father's heir, Robb, Theon and later Rickon embark on military careers in the Napoleonic wars, and their aunt Lysa makes a foolish marriage. When tragedy hits the family, they must come together, learning how manners may hide monsters and the best people are often those misunderstood by society.

You Could Draw Me to the Gallows 2k by @azulaahai

After having eloped from home with and subsequently been abandoned by wealthy heir Joffrey Baratheon, Sansa Stark refuses to come home. Having caused a scandal that is sure to prevent her from ever marrying, she is adamant not to bring further shame to the family name by returning to Winterfell. Until, that is, a visitor comes to her - Jon Snow, an old family friend, determined to bring Sansa with him back north. He has a solution to offer her - a proposal with the potential to change both of their lives.

A Perilous Dance Indeed & fiercely, tenderly and eternally 27k by @amymel86

He should either look away or interrupt this improper little meeting, he knows. For some unfathomable reason, he does neither. The two look far too intimate for Jon’s liking, although he feels he should have come to expect it to be so. A romantic like Sansa – however proper she is – would simply adore overt flirtations and a secret tête-à-tête. Even from where he stands, Jon can see the way in which she has stars set in her eyes like precious cut stones. He only hopes the man for whom they shine is deserving of it. *** Cousin Jon is to inherit Winterfell Manor and its estate after the untimely death of his uncle leaves a widow and two daughters. Sansa is expectant of an imminent proposal from her dear beau, Harrold Hardyng and everything will be absolutely, stunningly, utterly fine.

Waiting for Your Slippered Feet 49k by @wintry-ritu

Lady Sansa Stark has always looked forward to her come-out season in London, the balls, the rides in Hyde Park, evenings at Vauxhall, the romance and wonder of it all. Never had she imagined that it would happen like this, with her parents gone and her younger siblings underfoot. Now, all Sansa wants is for it all to be over quickly so she can get back to Winterfell. She needs a kind, amiable man who will be brave enough to take on his wife's siblings. That should not be so hard to find in London, should it? And while she is most grateful for Jon Targaryen's help, why must her cousin be so distracting?

To Make You Love Me 16k incomplete and orphaned

When Ned Stark dies, he leaves behind his wife, two daughters, and his family’s estate at Winterfell. What follows is a series of unwanted marriage proposals, houseguests who far outstay their welcome, and Arya parading around in a comically large hat and an oil-paint mustache as she declares herself the new ‘Lord of Winterfell,’ in an attempt to dissuade her sister’s suitors. However, when Mr. Jon Snow — their distant cousin and Ned’s appointed heir to the estate — comes to call, an oil-paint mustache is hardly enough to deter him from courting Miss Sansa Stark. And she thinks, perhaps, that a man could marry her for love more than her claim, after all.

Mine for a Season 101k by @vivilove-jonsa

Colonel Jon Targaryen is a single man in possession of a good fortune who claims no interest in finding himself a wife. With his war wounds, he thinks no young lady would want him anyway for anything beyond the allure of his pocketbook. Fortunately and unbeknownst to him, Fate has chosen to find a wife for him and will even deliver her right to his doorstep. Taking on the responsibility of shepherding a young lady about for a Season in London is not at all what Jon had wished to do but he had accepted out of a sense of familial duty. However, once he meets Sansa again after only having met her years ago as a child, he may not consider it a duty so much as a torment.

a lady of winterfell 185k, WIP by @wandering-scavenger

She bit her lip and exhaled shakily, “If you are so sickened by the prospect of marrying me, we should be able to obtain an annulment easily enough with your father’s connections.” “I will do no such thing.” he snapped, refusing to look at her. Sansa had never felt more rejected than she did at that moment. Her past experiences of being humiliated at the hand of Joffrey did not feel as painful as this. Even so, she could not allow him to see the weakness in her, not now. “I will not be left out, Jon.” she said, tilting her chin up to look down at him. He grimaced. They were silent for longer than she cared to count, but each second that he did not speak chipped away at her resolve and her ability to withhold her tears. Jon did not want her, and she could not blame him. Who could ever want her? It should not have distressed her as much as it did. She was never his favourite sister, she who treated him as a stranger since she was old enough to understand what a bastard was. A tear slipped down to her face until she tasted the salt of it on her lips. “If we marry, we will remain so.” corresponding gifset

moth's wings 47k by @cellsshapedlikestars

Sansa was determined to convince her aunt to let Arya debut, which is how she finds herself in her current predicament. “Who is this secret gentleman who has asked for your hand?” Aunt Lysa asks, and Sansa knows from her tone that she does not believe. (She has every right not to believe, for it is not true.) And then Sansa does something very, very foolish. She says a name. “The Duke of Dragonstone!” Or, Sansa fakes an engagement so that Arya can debut and marry the man she loves. The only problem? Her fake fiance just so happens to be in the city when he was not supposed to be.

An Understanding 2k, WIP by @thewolvescalledmehome

At the start of Sansa Stark's third London Season, she decides it will be her last. She will secure a husband by the end of the final ball. Jon Snow is new to the London Season and high society. He never expected to inherit money or property from an unknown uncle. When they meet at a ball, Sansa gets an idea.

you're in my blood like holy wine 72k

Sansa finds it difficult to look at Jon’s face, with its weathered lines and cragginess. It is the face of the North and a face that northerners trust; the face of Sansa’s brothers and her father, who had been loved and respected by their tenants as their forefathers had been when they were kings. How can Sansa feel anything but resentment, looking into that face and knowing that all of her years of hard work will never earn her the respect that that profile engenders within seconds? But she does. It is a small, burning coal of something that must be smothered.

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALES - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS - POST CANON

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Twelve - Banished from your sight on the day of Queen Margaery's nameday celebrations, Jon seeks comfort in the Godswood.

This is pure wish fulfillment, okay?

Ch 13

Jon finds himself in the Godswood of Highgarden, kneeling in the dirt, his head bowed. You have dismissed him for the day as you will be spending the whole of it with the queen preparing and primping for her nameday feast this very night.

The Three Singers lay before him, so intertwined it is as if they are one. Their blood-red leaves do not stand so stark against the landscape as they do in Winterfell. The lush gardens surrounding it blend so seamlessly, Jon loses himself in the view of it, mesmerized by the sway of the flowers and leaves in the wind.

Ghost lies beside him, stretched out in the sun, tongue lolling out happily.

Jon prays for strength, for the safety and health of his family, for his own health, for yours and Margaery’s. He prays that the Gods give him the strength to continue on the path Ser Jaime has set before him. This stilted, honorable path that he must follow so not to shame himself or you. But it is torture, the distance he must hold you at, the way he must keep his eyes from you, must keep his hands to himself even in private moments. Though he has lessened the private moments, and in turn you have sought solace in the queen. At least you will have a strong relationship as good-sisters, Robb will arrive and Jon can present him with an already bonded family, an apology for not being able to come home, not being able to stand by their father—Robb’s father, his uncle’s side, when he was accused on treason.

Ghost’s head rises, his ears swiveling, and Jon pivots towards the intruder, not even needing to get to his feet to draw his sword.

“Whoa, peace, friend, I have not come to harm you.” A tall man, older, around Lord Stark’s age, with dark brown hair that fell to his shoulder, and piercing eyes. Though Jon could not tell the color with the sun at the man’s back. He was well muscled, the body of a man who had trained and fought hard for decades, the strength of his form clear. He would be a beast in armor, a terrifying sight to behold, Jon is sure. His skin is tanned, not like Lord Martell’s but perhaps a few shades lighter, and he is dressed in finery, a sword strapped at his hip.

“Apologies, My Lord.” He says, bowing his head in the direction of the older man, and getting to his feet. “I shall leave you to the Godswood.”

“No, stay, I would enjoy the company.” The man says, giving him a crooked smile, a scar running through his upper right lip.

Jon returns to the ground and the man sits beside him, his eyes on the weirwoods. “I often find only Godswoods can offer me the solitude I need when I am tormented by my own thoughts.”

“My Lord?”

“I am not a lord, have not been for many years. We are both knights, let us address each other as so.”

Jon nods, staring at the trees as well, wondering why the man wished for him to remain if he wanted solitude.

“You are wondering why I asked you to stay, and perhaps how I know your mind weighs heavily upon you.” He says, his voice accented, Dornish perhaps? Jon is not quite sure.

“Aye.” Jon says, scratching between Ghost’s ears.

“I have seen many a young man kneeling in a holy place wondering if his course is true.” He says a hint of sadness in his tone. “It helps to share your burdens.”

“I do not think that is wise…” Jon says, eyeing the man out of the corner of his eye.

The man laughs. “Who will I tell, I do not know you, you do not know me, but we are both knights, sworn to uphold our codes. Your words will not leave this place, I assure you.”

There is something about the man that Jon finds strangely comforting. He has carried the weight of his decision for moons now, and it is slowly suffocating him until one day he fears he will wake up and no longer be able to breathe.

He lets out a slow breath. “I am in love with a noblewoman, and I know she loves me, but I am not worthy of her.”

The man hums in acknowledgement.

“But her father has allowed us to court as he feels even with my...strange parentage I am worthy of her hand, but it must be kept a secret.”

The man shifts his weight, stretching out one leg. “Why, if her father finds you worthy?”

“Because…there are things out of mine and her control, things that could tear us apart, and I believe he wishes to spare her the heartbreak but I—I…”

“Slipped up, overindulged, made an error?” He asks in a wry tone.

“Yes, but I did not go too far, I restrained myself, but now…now I must pull back even further, and it saddens her.”

“And her sadness in turn causes you sadness.” The man supplies, nudging Jon with his shoulder. “It is a good man who is saddened by his beloved’s sadness.”

“And now her aunt wishes her to dance with suitors, and I cannot interfere, but I do not think I can bear the sight.” Jon grabs a fallen stick and stabs it into the ground, feeling a bit childish.

“Might I tell you my own tale? Perhaps you will gain some wisdom.”

“Of course, I would be grateful for any advice.”

“Wisdom, not advice, I would not advise following my course of action.”

Jon can see the man’s eye color now, a dark gray, nearing purple.

“When I was younger, a bit older than you, I was in a frighteningly similar situation, though it was not unknown circumstances that kept myself and my lady love apart, but my closest friend. He was convinced that they must be wed, his assurance bordered on obsession, near madness, but I said nothing because he was my friend, I trusted him with my life.” The man sighs and runs a hand down his face.

Jon swallows hard, stick still in hand, staring at the hole it had made as if it will give him answers, a way to react to what he believes he is being told. You have always said he was intelligent, he believed it, he always thought himself intelligent even as a boy, but intellect was no shield against this kind of revelation.

“I continued to meet my love in secret, I adored her, would have laid my life down for her if she asked, but I knew she never would. Then my friend snapped, and we did a horrid thing, and in my cowardice, I did not break away and take my love to safety, I kept her with us. Against all odds she still loved me, I had dishonored her many times before, and she began to show, I thought this would dissuade my friend, that he would see sense…”

“But he did not.” Jon says a sinking feeling in his gut. Was this man truly who he believes him to be? How would he even be here, and why, why now?

“No, he did not. He thought to have the child born then taken away so that he could seed her. It sickened me, sickened her, but the gods intervened. Neither I nor him got to keep her, got to live with and love her. My cowardice, my devotion to my friend, got her killed.”

“I see why you said not to follow your example.” Jon jests grimly.

The man laughs, it is watery, hoarse, and the sound of it pierces Jon to the bone. “Do not be a coward, boy. No code is worth the life of the woman you love.”

“Did she love you, at the end?” He is afraid to hear the answer, afraid his father is a monster.

“Yes.”

“And the child?”

The man he is sure is Ser Arthur Dayne smiles sadly at the thick roots of the weirwoods beneath them. “Blood is proof of our devotion, she bled for our child, and so did I.”

“Her bones are in the crypt of Winterfell.” Jon says quietly, testing the waters.

The man says nothing, only gets to his feet, squeezes Jon’s shoulder, and walks away.

For a moment he is a child again, a pit in his chest, fear tugging at his limbs, a desire to reach for and call out to the man he is sure is his father surging through him. Against his better judgment he gets to his feet and runs, Ser Dayne—his father turning, his instincts still as honed as the legends said, and braces himself.

Jon embraces him, burying his face in his father’s finery. Jon is tall, but his father is taller, the top of Jon’s head reaching his father’s neck, and he breathes in the scent, finding it oddly familiar, though he knows he could only have smelled it nearly a lifetime ago.

His father wraps him in his arms, burying his face in Jon’s curls. “I should have fought harder, my boy, my son, I did not wish to abandon you, I swear to you.”

Jon bites his tongue to keep the tears from falling. “Lord Stark was good to me, he treated me as a son, I was not beaten or starved. I have siblings who love me, who think of me as their own.”

His father’s tears hit his shoulders, his body trembling. “That is good, he promised my sister he would take care of you. My household guards, they told me that when they came to retrieve my body, they thought me dead, but I could not let the Stranger take me. Not when I did not know what had become of you.”

“What did she name me, is Jon my true name?” It has been a question long on his lips.

“Yes, yes, I would never begrudge her the naming of her child, nor would she let me. She wanted you to have a strong Stark name, to set you apart from all the other Dornish boys, she told me. She was brilliant, strong-willed, and witty, she never ceased to make me laugh, even near the end.”

His father pulls back, drinking in the sight of him, his voice trembling. “You look so much like her, apart from your eyes, she was so happy that you had my eyes.”

Jon blinks away the tears, willing himself to be strong, he will need to digest this information, he will need to find you, and tell you what has occurred.

“And you are so strong, look at you, Oberyn did not lie, you inherited my strength. And I have heard that you are a skilled swordsman as well, you have done so well, my son, I am proud of you.” His father says, cupping Jon’s face with calloused hands. “I am sorry, I should have sought you out sooner, but the reports said you were thriving, that you were happy, and then you were taken to King’s Landing, and I could not show my face there. Too many people would recognize me, Robert would have me killed, and Oberyn said you had found love. I could not take you from that.”

“Then why are you here now?” Jon asks, overwhelmed by his emotions, his mind a blur, his heartbeat in his ears.

“Because I asked him to be.” Tyrion steps out of the shadows, and Jon nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Lord Tyrion?”

“I know, a Dornish man working with a Lannister, it is a sight to see, but you cannot say much my son, considering you wish to wed his daughter.” His father says, releasing his face and turning towards Tyrion.

“Come, let us bring this happy reunion inside.”

Jon sits beside his father as Tyrion fills him in, this plan has long been in the works, since his parentage was revealed.

“It took some convincing, your father did not think you would wish to see him.” Tyrion says, inclining his head toward Jon’s father.

“Does Lady y/n know of this?” Jon asks, unsettled by the very fact that you are not in the room while pertinent information is being revealed.

“See, I told you, besotted. ”

“You did.” His father chuckles.

“I will inform y/n of this development when we break fast in the morning, she should be able to enjoy one more night of merriment before meeting her future good-father.” Tyrion says.

“Is it official, then? I may have her hand?” He glances between Tyrion and his father.

His father claps him on the shoulders, then kisses both his cheeks. “Yes, my son, we have come to an agreement, you will wed your pretty lioness.”

Jon is floating, his mind clear, the joy that will alight in your eyes, the smile you will shine upon him, the way you will throw your arms around his neck and embrace him excitedly, it is all he sees. He gets to his feet, knocking over his chair in the process, “I must tell her; she will be overjoyed.”

“No one will be telling y/n anything tonight. We cannot tip off my sister.” Tyrion orders. “You just remain as you have these past few moons, it will be safer for her.”

His jaw muscles twitches, he is sick of waiting, especially now that his father is here, that he could be claimed, his title of bastard shed like snakeskin. “Why must we hold back, King Tommen loves Lady y/n, he would marry us tonight if we asked.”

“Calm, Jon, I know the Dornish sun burns in your veins as it does mine, but you must trust us, soon all you have been promised will come to be.”

Jon forces his jaw to unclench and nods. “I will hold my tongue until morning.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film

[ladystoneboobs]

possibly incomplete list of asoiaf characters described as having red or even "ginger" hair (or red-gold as opposed to red-brown or ghiscari red-black), never auburn:

mycah, the butcher's boy*

beric dondarrion (red-gold hair)*

lharys, member of the three stooges men-at-arms (wild rust-colored hair)**

unnamed and unfortunate mother of robert baratheon's doomed youngest child, barra (light red-haired mother of black-haired baby)*

tomard aka "fat tom", stark guardsman (with his ginger whiskers)*

horas "horror" redwyne (orange hair)*

hobber "slobber" redwyne (orange hair)*

unnamed red-haired whore leaning out a window the day of ned's execution (presumably not the same as above since she was joking about the king's death)*

melisandre of asshai (deep burnished copper. red and terrible and red.)*

a man called jaqen h'ghar (red on one side, white on the other)*

pug-nosed dancy from chataya's brothel (described as red-haired by tyrion in acok but honey-blonde in asos, so presumably hair dye must have been involved between those book mentions.)**

addam marbrand (hair the same copper color as his horse's mane)*

"ginger-headed" maester frenken*

unnamed beardless ginger youth among theon's crew at winterfell*

ygritte, a spearwife "kissed-by-fire" (bright red)*

arryk aka "left" or "right", lady olenna's red-mustached guardsman*

erryk aka "left" or "right", lady olenna's other, identical, red-mustached guardsman*

lord paxter redwyne (tufts of orange hair)**

anguy the archer of the bwb*

a red-bearded karstark rapist dead in a crow cage at stoney sept*

tansy, innkeeper of the peach in stoney sept*

meryn trant (rust-red hair)*

"red" ronnet connington

mero, "the titan's bastard", former commander of the second sons (bushy red-gold beard)

a red-headed soldier who came with stannis to the wall

shadrich "the mad mouse" (bristly orange hair)*

lord rykker's red-mustached maester

marwyn belmore, lysa's former guard captain (ginger-headed)*

lord benedar belmore with a beard that was "a ginger-grey horror"*

lord orton merryweather (reddish-orange hair)

"the red oarsman", one of euron greyoy's followers (fiery red hair)

unnamed red-haired sailor arriving at port in braavos*

lord clement piper

and his son lewys "little lew" piper, who served as squire to jaime lannister in the riverlands

unnamed red-haired youth who first escaped northward with varamyr from the battle at the wall

one of illyrio's washerwomen (dull red hair)**

jon connington (once red hair gone to grey, still red at the roots and eyebrows even when the rest was dyed blue. also had a bright red beard as a younger man.)**

rolly "duck" duckfield (a shock of orange hair)**

a young man among the wildling refugees at mole's town whose red hair reminded jon of ygritte*

the "sunset kingdoms" girl raped by tyrion in the brothel where he was captured by jorah**

hagen's daughter, only other woman among asha greyjoy's crew

roggon rustbeard, one of asha's men

mully of the nw (greasy orange hair)*

bloodbeard, commander of the company of the cat (fiery red whiskers)

"ginger" jack, a toungeless sellsword of the windblown sent to dany, face nearly covered by his bristly, orange beard

gerrick kingsblood*

and his son*

and gerrick's daughter #1*

and gerrick's daughter #2*

and gerrick's daughter #3*

ronald storm, son of ronnet connington

one of the 7 "choicest" enslaved girls from the yunkish ship who were sacrificed by victarion (red-gold hair)

an enslaved redhead boy in line for a well, asking tyrion about dany**

nail, apprentice to hammer, the armorer for the second sons**

maester tybald, redhaired maester from the dreadfort serving arnolf karstark

valena toland, heiress to ghost hill (bright red hair)

teora toland, valena's younger sister with the same hair

uther shett, knight arriving for sweetrobin's tourney (ginger-haired and whiskered)*

*characters whose hair is described in the povs of starks (or jon snow) who only use the terms auburn or red-brown for catelyn, robb, sansa etc. and do not compare said characters to said tully-haired relations

**characters whose hair is described by tyrion lannister, who spent significant time with sansa and exclusively referred to her hair as auburn (without anyone else telling him her hair color as catelyn told brienne)

the only asoiaf characters ever described as having auburn hair:

catelyn tully stark

robb stark (red-brown/auburn tully hair "so like" his mother's, with a beard redder than his hair)

sansa stark (auburn hair lighter than her mother's, most reddish glowing in candlelight)

brandon "bran" stark (hair not bright red enough for him to distinguish himself from young benjen at first glance in a weirwood flashback)

rickon stark

brynden "the blackfish" tully (once auburn hair gone to grey)

edmure tully (auburn hair with a fiery beard, likely brighter than his hair like robb's)

lysa tully arryn baelish

known tully descendants never described as having auburn hair

arya stark (darker brown stark-colored hair)

hoster tully (hair and beard gone from brown to brown streaked with grey to white as snow)

robert "sweetrobin" arryn (fine brown hair, thought by sansa to be his best feature)

fun fact: the only other character that i can find to ever even be descibed as having red-brown hair in the main series is rowan, one of the spearwives who accompanied mance on his mission to winterfell. (described by theon, who had psychological reasons not to think of any hair-resemblance to robb and co.)

tl;dr i suppose my point here is that auburn hair in the real world may be a term thrown around wildly as a fancier way of saying red hair, but grrm and his westerosi creations seem to keep to a much more specific (true) definition. not just specific, almost entirely unique to a certain family, a weird mutation passing down their line somewhat inexplicably, like the magic platinum hair of the targaryens. (ned stark's 4 tully-haired kids being sorta like alicent hightower's 4 targ-haired kids where nobody can really explain why it was so dominant.) except it's actually more unique to the tullys than either black hair to the baratheons or silver hair to the targaryens, with the velaryons also having valyrian hair as well as some people in the essosi free cities too. which i guess makes rowan the wildling the equalivent of an unknown dragonseed or a lysene woman who could pass as a targ, and regular brown-haired hoster and sweetrobin the equivalent of regular blonde-haired alysanne and alyssa targaryen. so the next time someone calls the tullys lame or whatever, just remember that in-universe they're actually more special than the dragonriders, at least hairwise.

[writingsofwesteros]

Ned marries a Lannister, like imagine catelyn sadly passes away when Rickon is born, leaving 14 year old Robb (and Jon), 11 year old Sansa, 9 year old Arya, 8 year old and newborn Rickon without a mother. About a month after Rickon is born, Robert and Jon Arryn (it was Jon's idea) invite Ned and the kids to kingslanding to spend some time away to deal with his grief (his children agree that they want to go and that their uncle benjen could watch winterfell). When Ned's at kingslanding, he and Cersei keep saying mean things to each other, getting Robert annoyed. Robert went to Jon Arryn for help, who suggested to finally bury the stark/lannister hostility by talking to Ned and Tywin, and suggesting a marriage between Ned and Tywin's youngest (23 year old) daughter named Joanna (after her mother, Jaime named her not to mention she's Tywin's favorite). Robert thought it wasn't a bad idea, so they first talked to Ned about it, who immediately shut the idea down, but then Jon reminded him of his kids needed a mother figure especially month old Rickon and not to mention Ned's kids met Joanna a couple days after they arrived in kingslanding and they love her so Ned after an argument reluctantly agreed since it's not like they needed to make heirs, Ned (thanks to his breeding kink) has enough. And now all that left was Tywin Lannister, who Robert, Jon, and Ned needed to talk to...

!!!

Lannister lovely girl being their mother. Jon becomes obsessed as she takes care of him without thought.

Ned softens at the sight of her with Rickon as she walks the gardens.

Cersei is so not happy !!

[countrymusiclover]

2 - Swords and Winterfell

Part 3

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons

It had been almost a week since Chezney and I had traveled to King's Landing. Jaime and I had only simply said a few words and shared silent glances with one another. So nothing really worthwhile in my opinion. Staring at the ceiling above me the sun had already risen and brought light into my chambers. "How am I supposed to act about all this? I didn't have a mother growing up." I mumbled to myself in thought.

Sitting upright on the edge of the bed I run my hands down my face remembering that Chezney's mother had taught me about most things that my mother would have but I still wasn't as confident as she always seemed. "Haelesa!" Hearing three knocks I sighed in relief.

"Chez, finally I have been here bored counting the tiles on the ceiling waiting for you." I sighed in an over dramatic tone flinging the chamber door open revealing my friend.

She quickly pushed the door shut and locked it. "Sorry this place is much more massive than Driftmark. I got lost a few times trying to find your room."

"Then let's go exploring." I responded instantly.

She flopped back on my bed with a confused expression. "Are you serious? Did you forget the part where I said I almost got lost getting here?"

"I've been trapped in a castle surrounded by the ocean my whole life. I don't intend to stay locked up here in a city like this one. I want to go explore and see what else is supposedly out there." Putting one hand on my hip I sent her a half smile.

Chezney didn't waste another moment getting up to her feet. "That settles it then."

"And if my so-called betrothed has a problem with it then he can come find us." I looped my arm through hers and we quickly left the room rushing down the hallway.

I was still wearing the same outfit that I arrived in but I had let my hair loose since the climate was much warmer than I had ever felt. And I would never wear uncomfortable heels unless someone forced it upon me. Chezney and I took a few wrong turns yet we did manage to find a doorway out of the castle. Placing one hand on the brick wall the wind blew my hair in my eyes until I brushed it behind my ear. There was an open fenced yard out in front of us. "Maybe we took another bad turn."

"Nah I don't think so...look swords." Chezney moved past me and picked up one of the blades that was laying on the dirt a few steps away from us.

Shrugging my shoulders I ran over to her taking the handle of the other one she held out for me in my own hands. "Ah you're right. This should be fun since neither of us are probably good at this."

"You're telling me you've never watched Antler train?" She asked me.

"No, have you?" I asked her back and she avoided my gaze meaning she was lying. I gasped, teasing her back. "Oh you have!"

Chezney grips her handle slightly swinging at me. "Shut up!"

"Ah!" I squeaked, raising my blade and heard our metal clash together meaning I blocked her hit. "Hey don't get defensive, it was a genuine question that you brought up."

She shakes her head. "Just because I have watched him train sometimes doesn't mean that I have feelings for him."

"Actually it kind of does mean exactly that, Chez." I smirked, spinning the blade in my hands trying to balance the new weight in each hand to get used to the new feeling.

Gaining a firm grip on the blade I made my first advance on my friend but she was somewhat ready for me. We both ran at each other and swung at the same time hitting the other's blade. We separated them quickly and I swung upward and she went downward hitting my blade again until we heard someone speak up and catch us off guard. "Ladies aren't supposed to be playing with swords from the lessons I was forced to sit through."

"Ser Jaime." Chezney stumbles dropping the sword and doing the best curtsey she could for him.

Yet I kept my fingers wrapped around the blade but lowered the tip of the weapon down into the dirt. My eyes focused on his letting uncomfortable silence fill the air and I didn't bother to address him like a lady should. "Jaime. I'm shocked you came looking for me. From the day I arrived you didn't seem to have much interest in getting to know me."

"Hmm you are right that I am not really concerned with the whole idea of marriage. But here we are since my father was very demanding of the king to release me from my guard title." Jaime moved away from the doorway we had came from reaching me until there was little gap between us.

Lifting my gaze upward he was slightly taller than me but I wouldn't let him know that I was worried about what he would do. "At least we are in agreement on not wanting this arrangement. Come on Chezney, let's keep practicing."

"Oh I don't think that's a good idea." My friend's demeanor completely changed around the oldest lion son.

Whipping my head around to her I scoffed. "Come on, Chez. You don't really think he is going to judge us when we are just having some fun."

"He's the best swordsman in the seven kingdoms, Haelesa." She trailed off.

Snorting out a laugh. "I'll see about that."

"Is that a challenge I'm hearing, Haelesa?" I sucked in a breath hearing Jaime's voice closer than I was expecting when I had put my back to him talking to my friend.

Slowly turning around on my boots, Jaime and I were almost pressed chest to chest now. "I wasn't calling a challenge with you, Lannister."

"That's not what I heard from you, Haelesa." He smirked smugly. "If you're not calling a challenge, let's still just see what you can do."

Jaime moved around me picking up the sword that my friend had dropped. Chezney parts her lips in shock watching me before I gasped, not sure I heard him correctly. "You're joking."

"Actually I'm not in the slightest. If you want jokes you should meet my little brother Tyrion." He responded holding the blade in his right hand.

Blinking a couple times I still remain where I was originally. "I'm not going to fight you, Jaime."

"As you said it's just for fun and I'll take it easy on you if you truly want to learn how to wield a blade." The Lannister lion smiled at me.

Chezney moved off to the side and nudged her head in the direction of Jaime telling me to go. Sucking in a breath I finally caved in wrapping my fingers around the blade a little tighter than a minute ago. "Okay I suppose we can practice a little." Stepping forward I take the first swing towards him thinking that this might not be as bad.

Yet Jaime only let me have confidence for a brief period of time where he swung at me and I ducked, dropping to my knees. Our swords hit one another but he pushed me into the dust. "Relax your dominant arm. If you use the same move all the time your opponent can learn which arm is the weakest."

I raise my sword trying to strike him but he lightly elbows me in my side to strike me from below. "So why did you really come out here for -uh!" I grunted out, pressing my sword against his. He pressed his sword against mine, never losing gaze with mine. His green eyes holding love with his face remaining the serious one he uses in battle. We never break the hold on each other as he finally answers my earlier question.

"The king has informed me that we are to ride North. He claims to be wanting to make Eddard Stark his new Hand of the King." He lowers his blade and takes a few steps backwards away from me.

Lowering my blade I tilted my head to the side. "Why would we need to ride North?"

"It's a command by the King, Lady Velaryon. You don't go against the royal family unless you wish to lose your head." He told me to slide the sword in the holder on his hip.

Chezney came over to my side where I slid the blade in the belt that was attached to the tunic I was wearing. "I suppose you're right."

"I'd suggest you ladies dress warmly." He responded.

Chezney looped her arm through mine once more about to leave. "Thanks for the advice, Ser."

"I assume that you'll be riding a horse with the men, Haelesa and not in the carriage." Yet he spoke up one more time, having us halt in our tracks one more time. Sending him a head nod I glanced over my shoulder and then Chezney and I went to pack some things for the second trip.

It took many long days ahead that I did spend in the carriage with the queen and her children until the guards had informed us we were near Winterfell. The next time we stopped Chezney followed me and Jaime on horseback not caring what looks his sister had given us for not acting like proper ladies. The wind ran through my hair and my nose ran a little stuffed up from the new sense of cold that surrounded us. Glancing out in front of me I came into a view of a large castle in front of us that had some torches burning around its entrance clearly to keep some warmth there. The royal family enters through the gate and I turned my gaze hearing King Robert struggle to get off his horde from how fat his stomach appears to be as he stops in front of the man I assumed was Lord of Winterfell. "Your Grace."

Robert eyed the man in front of him. "You've got fat....Cat!" The two men laughed before he embraced both him and his wife with red hair.

She greeted him once they broke the hug. "Your Grace."

"Nine years. Why haven't I seen you, Ned? Where the hell have you been?" Robert asked the man Ned who was clearly his friend.

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours." The queen and her other children descend from the coach as the lord of Winterfell responds.

Chezney got assistance climbing down off her horse and I was about to do the same until I heard a young girl's voice. "Where's the Imp?"

"Will you shut up?" The girl that was older with hair that looked like her mother's snapped back.

Shaking my head I couldn't help but watch the whole scene before me. The king began going down the line first stopping at the oldest boy who appeared to have dark curly auburn hair and the same eyes of his mother. "Who have we here? You must be Robb." He shook hands with the king and then glanced my way making me look the opposite direction.

Next the king went to the two girls. The one all dressed properly like her mother smiled. "My, you're a pretty one...Your name is?"

"Arya.' Said the young girl who looked to be rather uncomfortable in the dress she wore and honestly I could relate with her.

The king went to one of the young Stark boys who showed his muscle to him. "Ooh. Show us your muscles. You'll be a soldier."

"That's Jaime Lannister. The queen's twin brother." Whipping my head back around at Jaime he removed his helmet tossing around the blonde hair and dismounted his horse.

The oldest Stark girl grumbled to her sister once more with the queen approaching the family. "Would you please shut up."

The king spoke to Eddard. "Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects."

The queen sighed clearly tired. "We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait." But the king led Ned off and ignored her sentence altogether.

Arya looks around before everyone starts breaking off in different directions. "Where's the Imp?"

Jaime had left after talking with Cersei leaving me and Chezney on our own. Running my hands over my horse he made a quiet nose where I attempted to get off the horse without any help. Yet my boot got caught in one of the foot straps where I screamed gripping the saddle thinking that I'm gonna hit the dirt. "Agh!...huh." I felt strong arms that couldn't belong to my best friend hold me up when my boot fell from the strap and my body was pressed against the front of whoever it was.

"It's a good thing my mother sent me over here to help you otherwise you would have had a nasty fall, my lady." I recognized the voice of the young Robb Stark who helps me to my feet and doesn't remove his hands until I'm stable on the ground.

Turning around to face the Northern boy I smiled getting a better look at him. His eyes were bright and I could see the curls better now. To my surprise I found him more attractive then Jaime which I could only assume was because Robb was near my age of seven and ten. "Thank you for catching me, my lord. I must sadly admit this is my first time on a horse."

"It's quite alright you'll get used to it in time. And please my father is Lord of Winterfell so I'd ask you'd just call me Robb, my lady." He suggested staring down at me but he wasn't nearly as tall as Jaime was.

Shaking my head, I corrected the wolf boy. "I'd prefer if you'd call me Haelesa, Robb. We're not in fancy lessons at the moment." Running a hand down my tunic I changed into some thicker pants and stole one of the Lannister red cloaks over my shoulders for warmth. Chezney was wearing a simple ocean blue dress, some brown winter boots, and a yellow fur cloak and her brown hair put up in a messy bun.

"It's nice to meet you, Haelesa." He greeted me with a cheeky smile.

Chezney came over to us and extended her hand to him in excitement. "Hi Robb, I'm Chezney. Her best friend and lady in waiting."

"It's nice to meet you both." Robb shook her hand firmly gesturing his head back in the direction of the castle offering me his arm. I looped my arm through his and Chezney followed him on his other side. "Come, I'll personally show you Winterfell." I sent him a smile, already feeling better about being around the young wolf than the oldest lion.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt.6

(Cersei x Fem Reader x Jaime. Sandor Clegane x Fem Reader)

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

"Are you happy now?" Robert raged as Cersei gazed dispassionately at him. "It's not enough you bring your whore across the fucking continent; you have to make a show of fucking her in front of the whole camp?"

"You don't bother to hide your infidelities" Cersei glowered, "why should I hide mine?"

"You humiliated me!" Robert slammed his cup on the nearest table, pouring himself another helping of strong ale.

Cersei simmered in silence. She knew what she did was foolish, but the satisfaction of the court knowing King Robert was the cuckold for once was almost worth it.

"It was an offense to The Faith, not to mention High Treason! I should have both your heads on pikes"

"Robert, please. It's not like she can father my bastards, like your mistresses have."

Robert's bloated face blanched at this, and Cersei rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't act like it was some big secret."

Robert's rage returned, further fueled by indignation.

"Out of my sight, woman. Before I have you scourged in front of the whole camp."

She left willingly, knowing exactly where she would find you.

Jaime had been charged with keeping you company while Cersei received her tongue lashing, and the queen found the two of you at play like a couple of teenagers.

"Sister" Jaime grinned, his arm pressed against yours as the two of you held a thin candle between your forearms. "You're just in time to watch this little minx lose."

"How are you?" You ignored Jaime's taunts as the flame grew closer to your skin. "What did he say? Am I to be sent away?"

"I don't know. He didn't say much of consequence, he mostly just blustered." Cersei poured herself a glass of wine and watched the flame between your arms sink lower. Jaime was starting to sweat now.

You frowned, unsatisfied.

As it had turned out, Cersei's little exhibition had spread through the camp like wildfire. You received looks ranging from awe to disgusted from everyone you passed the morning after, and certain people wouldn't even look you in the eye anymore.

"Just ignore them, sweetling." Cersei had said. "They don't matter."

To your great relief, Sandor didn't seem to care at all. All he said when he heard was "It's about time."

Sandor had become something of a comfort to you this past month, and while he tried to treat you with mostly indifference, it was clear he was partial to you as well.

"FUCK" Jaime cursed as the flame reached his skin, flicking wax off his forearm and rubbing the bright red skin soothingly. "Have you no sense of pain?"

You didn't answer, only smiling coyly and kissing the burn on his flesh. "Poor baby"

"I should finish packing your things, Your Grace." You sighed, standing and brushing grass off your dress. "We'll reach Winterfell by this afternoon."

The last stretch of the ride was surprisingly easy. Your mare had adjusted to your leadership, and your body had grown accustomed to the long distances.

"Are you sure you're not embarrassed to be riding next to Queen Cersei's Whore?" You teased Clegane as he mounted Stranger next to you.

"Not as embarrassing as trying to keep her little cunt of a son alive long enough to inherit."

"Sandor" you hushed him with a blush, fearing you would be heard. "You mustn't joke like that. I'm on thin ice as it is."

Sandor made a guttural scoffing sound and eyed the horizon.

Winterfell was truly, unbelievably massive.

It had to be, to house as many people as possible when the harsh winter inevitably fell upon the land. What were those ever-ominous house words?

Winter is Coming.

"Clegane, Y/N" The king's squire rounded his horse along side Stranger. "The King wishes to speak with the two of you, right now."

"Now?" You blinked but steered your horse behind Sandor, who seemed equally skeptical as you neared the large, rumbling royal coach. The King, it seemed, had opted to arrive in style rather than on horseback.

"Halt" a voice called, and Robert exited the litter, followed by an unusually tense and somber Cersei. One look at her face, and you could sense something was horribly awry.

"You asked to see us, Your Grace?"

"Indeed" Robert breathed, looking very pleased with himself. "I thought the two of you ought to know, shortly after our arrival at Winterfell, the two of you are going to be married by a Septon of the Faith of The Seven. Congratulations."

You very nearly fell off your horse in shock.

"Y-Your Grace, I don't understand I-"

"Young Lady," The King whipped back around, his jovial face replaced with a look of contempt. "I ought to have you stripped naked and whipped through the streets of Kings Landing for treason, do you understand that?"

His tone shocked you into submission and you gazed at the ground fearfully.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Instead, I'm showing you something called mercy. I'm allowing you to keep the skin on your back and solving our current issue as diplomatically as I can. You should be on your knees thanking me, instead of talking back."

"Yes, Your Grace. I'm very sorry." You nodded, "Thank you for showing mercy, I will strive to be worthy of it."

"And you." Robert eyed Clegane. "Bed her, ignore her, lock her in a sept somewhere for all I care. Just keep her away from my wife."

Sandor nodded slowly and you cast your gaze on Cersei whose face was twisted into a look of utter frustration and disappointment.

As the litter took off once more, a deep coldness settled into your stomach. You should have known it was too good to be true.

"Y/N?"

"I am so sorry."

"I-" Sandor paused, considering his next words. "I didn't expect that, did you?"

"No." You shook your head. "Oh Gods, Sandor I am *so* sorry. I never meant for you to get dragged into this. If I had known-"

"He didn't kill you" Sandor cut you off. "Just be grateful for that for now."

"How are you so calm about this?" You turned to face him, "In fact, this whole trip you have been unnervingly cavalier about this whole situation. You were just ordered by your king to marry some no named nobody from flea bottom who's only claim to fame is being the Queen's whore. And you don't even seem upset."

Sandor shrugged, "I've done far worse things on the orders of far worse men than Robert Baratheon. Besides, it's just marriage. I can't imagine it will change things much. On my end anyway."

It's just marriage.

You thought this over a moment. It was true, High-borns married complete strangers all the time. And it wasn't like you and Sandor were *complete* strangers.

"I guess I haven't thought about it like that." You nodded, somehow soothed by his lack of response. "You're right. We just need to...roll with the punches."

You took off a little ahead of him, and Sandor watched your back as you went, oddly enough noting that your riding form had improved immensely.

"You took that remarkably well."

Sandor stifled an irritated groan as the Kingslayer rode up beside him.

"Fuck off"

"No, it's true. You did." Jaime insisted. "I'm impressed."

Sandor attempted to move ahead of him, but Jaime kept pace.

"Seriously though" Jamie grew more somber. "She's a sweet girl. I doubt she even fully understood what she was getting herself into. I'd hate to see her stuck in a life of misery because of this."

Sandor cast him a poisonous glare, swallowing a mouthful of insults and instead saying;

"Just because you've had your cock in her doesn't mean you know anything about her, Kingslayer."

Before sending his horse into a gallop to catch up with you.

You arrived in Winterfell with much pomp and fanfare.

Keeping yourself concealed from the main group, you watched as the official greetings were exchanged, bows and curtseys and full honors bestowed, until Robert separated from the party to pay respects at the crypts.

When the king was well out of sight and there was commotion loading and unloading wagons, Cersei pulled you aside.

"I did everything I could" were the first words out of her mouth.

"I thank you." You wanted to take her hand but did not dare. Not now. "Honestly, it's a better punishment than I could have dared hope."

"Indeed?" Cersei pulled a tense smile, "I thought you and Clegane weren't-"

"We..." you searched for the words, "We've settled into each other. If that makes sense."

"Ah" Cersei's face was tight but tried to remain neutral, "That makes things easier then, I suppose. All the same, I'll find something for you to do in the Keep, sweetling. I won't let him win."

You smiled gratefully, excusing yourself to unload and carry her bags to her and Robert's shared room.

As you left, Cersei found herself wondering exactly which *him* she meant.

[melrosing]

I think the Long Night will take place at the very end of TWOW. And I think both Jaime and Brienne should be in the north when that happens.

But how do you see their timeline in TWOW? Jaime seems to have so little time to go to KL after LSH and return north afterwards….

Maybe he'll come back like he did on the show — alone. And no one but Brienne will be expecting to see him. But it will be at the beginning of ADOS. And most of JB will be in the last book, which we probably won't see

i typed out a bullet point version of how i think JB's chapters will turn out roughly in TWOW but now I can't find it so in summary:

JB confront LSH

JB escape via supernatural events

JB arrive on the Quiet Isle?

JB on the Quiet Isle, meeting Sandor, agreeing to part ways

Jaime to King's Landing

Brienne to the Vale, discovers Sansa. Possibly a plot here something involving the Mad Mouse, as Brienne knows he doesn't mean Sansa well but Sansa doesn't know that

Jaime discovers all his kids are dead, confronts Cersei some way or another, retrieves Widow's Wail

Brienne and Sansa work together to return North with the men of the Vale, so to restore Winterfell

Jaime heads North also

the haziest bit for me is what happens with Jaime in KL, because I think he kind of has to return there at some point in TWOW, but at the same time I don't think he can die there because no doubt TLN takes place in ADOS. I may be completely wrong and in fact Jaime and Brienne stick together throughout TWOW (this is possible since we know GRRM was still 'wrestling with Jaime and Brienne' as of a couple years ago, suggesting they're still together in what are presumably the latter chapters of the book. but that doesn't guarantee GRRM wasn't wrestling with edits on older chapters etc)

anyway yeah that's roughly how I picture it rn

[joanna-lannister]

I promised I would make a masterlist of all my favorite JC fanfictions, so here you go. Those fics aren't sorted out by Canon or AU, they are just a mix of what I loved over the years.

How My Story Ends by Millie55 Cersei and her army arrive in Winterfell to aide in the battle against the Night King. Or Cersei and Jaime reunite in Winterfell.

Casablanca by LordStannisTheGodDamnMannis666 Tywin extends Jaime’s business trip abroad at short notice with express instructions to fly directly to the next country. Jaime however rather likes the idea of a detour, and he knows the perfect person to join him. Aka As long as he gets there by Monday morning it doesn’t really matter what he does in the meantime, does it?

They Want to Make Me Their Queen by Millie55 Cersei has lost everything except 2 things: Jaime, and her Kingdom.

Until Death Do Us Part by LordStannisTheGodDamnMannis666 A new law is passed in parliament that changes Jaime and Cersei's lives for good, allowing them the opportunities, freedom, and happiness that they once could only dare to hope for.

my blood alone remains by houselannister The Austrian Princess is barely fourteen when she leaves her homeland for France. She speaks very little French, and is wilful, stubborn and capricious. She leaves Vienna with an escort of two thousand men, loyal Austrian soldiers.

The Ribbon by Magnolie Cersei is shipped off to France by their mother to part her from Jaime. But there is no without each other for them, only together.

Oh come all ye faithful by Magnolie Jaime and Cersei have their own ways and excuses to escape the boring Christmas Parties and even if they have to stay... there is always a way to spice things up.

therefore each to other bound by copacet Having escaped Stark custody, Jaime returns to King's Landing during the Battle of the Blackwater—thus solving some of his family's problems while also creating several new ones.

of love and beauty by liesmyth “We’re lions.” Jaime’s hand clasped around her own. “Let them all choke on it.”

The Price of Love by nightingalesighs Cersei studies her sleeping twin’s face one night trying to pinpoint when Jaime’s feature’s had changed. When his hair had started going grey and what caused the wrinkles on his familiar face.

She's always been afraid of storms by vwoolf Cersei's afraid of storms and seeks out her brother's company.

you gave away what you never really had, and now your purse is empty, I can see why you're sad by houselannister It's been five years since Jaime left London. Now Tywin is dead, and business is business. Cersei flies to Paris to get what's hers.

foreshore by lutece Still, the lions linger—perhaps they are dead across the sea, but in Pentos they have flourished with their cub.

The Better Cure by corrielle After being unhorsed by Loras Tyrell on Prince Joffrey's name day, Jaime visits Cersei to soothe his wounded pride.

perihelion by houselannister London, 2020 - After Tywin Lannister's death, Jaime and Tyrion uncover their father's most precious secret: a hidden sister. Money and power intersect with family and obsession.

Prophecies & Promises by spinsterclaire When the 18-year old Lannister twins find themselves locked out of their father's townhome, they visit an old acquaintance to escape the Manhattan blizzard. There, they must confront their fears about keeping promises, accepting fate, and bringing new life into the world.

Study Me, Study You by LordStannisTheGodDamnMannis666 Jaime needs help with his homework, and who better to help than Cersei?

Take My Hand, The Night Grows Ever Colder by LordStannisTheGodDamnMannis666 Across the Narrow Sea, in a stone house on the shore of Pentos, Cersei Lannister dreams of her children.

The Loneliest Girl in Town by Millie55 Cersei fears she may have lost Jaime for good - every last piece of him.

Quiet. by frozenpapers Tywin interrupts Cersei and Jaime.

Hush. by frozenpapers A phone call interrupts Cersei and Jaime.

[jackoshadows]

@blankwhiteshield I thought I would respond in a separate post since I don't want to derail from @fromtheseventhhell's OG post about something else. You responded to my comment here by saying that I was 'entirely wrong' and linking to an essay on Jaime Lannister and I did try to read through all that to get a gist of your explanation.

First I want to mention that Rhaegar being a pre-asoiaf/background/tertiary character means we don't know a lot about him. I can only speculate as to his thoughts and motives and why he did what he did.

I wrote that comment because the absolute hypocrisy of Jaime Lannister apologists/Braime shippers critiquing Rhaegar grinds my gears something fierce. And I am not even a Rhaegar fan - he's a character that there's to set other characters on their journey and to set the story.

The consequences of Jaime's incestual adultery was the spark that lead to the WOT5K that two years on is still ongoing with no stability in war torn Westeros. Jaime Lannister attempts to murder a little child because he can't keep it in his pants for the short duration they are visiting the Starks. Jaime was hunting down a 9 year old to cut off her hand. That poll about Rhaegar being a bad father when Jaime refers to Joffrey as semen in Cersei's cunt is a farce.

Hence my comment.

Now, let's start with Jaime being Aerys' hostage. Yes, Aerys used Jaime against Tywin. However, why was Jaime in the Kingsguard (KG) in the first place? He was Tywin's golden child and heir to Casterly Rock, unlike Cersei and Tyrion having no value for Tywin because she is a girl and he is disabled.

Aerys had no power over Jaime until he chose to join the KG to serve the Mad King. Jaime had more choice than the 14 year old bastard Jon Snow who had to leave Winterfell and the NW is pretty much the only option available to him. He had more choice than his sister Cersei. He had more choice than disabled Tyrion getting physically/sexually abused by his own family.

So why did Jaime decide to join the KG? So that he could be close to Cersei and sleep with her. Jaime joins the KG knowing that he was going to break the KG oaths of celibacy. He didn't care about oaths when joining the KG , right?

This is why Jaime's entire spiel about oaths never had any emotional weight for me, coming from a character who had no value for oaths in the first place and who had no intention of upholding his sworn oaths when he joined the KG.

I can understand a character like Jon Snow's angst and conflict when he is forced to sleep with Ygritte or when he has to choose between the NW and saving his sister, because oaths are important to Jon Snow. Oaths and honor is important to someone like Ned Stark. Jaime? Considering his total disrespect for the KG oaths when he joins them to simply be close to Cersei, I don't get it.

Next, Rhaegar's conversation with Jaime.

Why do you assume here that Jaime was scared of Aerys and asking Rhaegar to save/rescue him from Aerys? I mean, Jaime was KG. At 13 he won his first melee. At 15 he was defeating other skilled swordsmen.

It could just as well be Jaime eager to fight with Rhaegar in battle and asking that Rhaegar leave behind the older KG like Darry to instead guard the king because the battle is where the fight is. Jaime thinks that guarding someone is not as exciting as fighting in battle. It's even right there in the next sentence when Jaime gets angry about being referred to as a crutch and he's like ' I AM A KINGSGUARD'.

We see something similar when Jon begs his uncle to take him for ranging.

Three days after their arrival, Jon had heard that Benjen Stark was to lead a half-dozen men on a ranging into the haunted forest. That night he sought out his uncle in the great timbered common hall and pleaded to go with him. Benjen refused him curtly. - Jon, AGoT

There's also not much Rhaegar can probably do at that point (speculating here) - facing war/battle - about his volatile, angry father, the King. There are all these essays about the effect that Tywin had on Jaime... imagine the burden of being the Mad King's son. What power does Rhaegar have to take away the King's choice of KG? Rhaegar didn't even have the power to send his own wife and children elsewhere. Him actively interfering was only going to further anger a king who was already paranoid about the crown prince. Hence the 'I dare not take away that crutch from him at such a hour'.

I think you also mention that Jaime was terrified of being executed as an hostage - is this mentioned anywhere in the books or are you just assuming/speculating on his thought process here?

Jon Snow is elected Lord Commander of the Night's Watch at 16. In Westeros 16 is considered a man grown and Jaime is an adult by Westerosi standards and Rhaegar certainly didn't see him as some kind of child hostage like that post deliberately twisted it into.

A boy in Westeros is considered to be a "man grown" at sixteen years. The same is true for girls. Sixteen is the age of legal majority, as twenty-one is for us.

At any rate, Rhaegar and Jaime's fellow KG expected the KG left behind in KL - Jaime Lannister - to do his job and protect the crown prince's wife and babies as per sworn oaths.

In which Jaime fails because while his father's men, including the Mountain, were scaling the walls to rape and murder Elia and her babies, Jaime was lounging on the throne waiting for one of the rebels to get there. And hence his guilt when confronted by ghosts of his past in his weirwood dreams.

You have written a lot on how Jaime could not have known about what Tywin's men would do. I mean, why is he waiting around to find out what they would do?! Sorry, these are piss poor excuses and even Jaime Lannister himself doesn't really believe this because he knows that he should have immediately gone to their side after the King was dead as his ghosts tell him.

Jaime knows his father. He knows what Tywin is capable of. He was there for what Tywin did to Tysha. KL was even then being raped and pillaged. And he thought nothing would happen to the Targaryen princess and her children?

The Mad King was dead - literally backstabbed by the hostage. What should this skilled Kingsguard do next? Immediately go to Elia and the babies to protect Rhaegar's family as Rhaegar entrusted him to do or sit on the Throne waiting for someone to come there? We know what Jaime chose to do:

'Then he climbed the Iron Throne and seated himself with his sword across his knees to see who would come to claim the kingdom. As it happened, it had been Eddard Stark'.

This is what is given to us in the books. Nothing more, nothing else. You can add to this of course, but that would be speculative theorizing on what Jaime's thoughts and feelings are about all this, not what is actually given to us in the books.

[windriverdelta]

On Stannis Baratheon's eventual fate in the ASOIAF books

So, we know that Stannis Baratheon is going to burn his daughter alive in the books like in Game of Thrones, since Martin has confirmed that this is one of his "moments" for GoT. That naturally raises the question of what will happen to Stannis afterwards.

TL;DR, I find Stannis becoming a Night's Watch member - and probably Lord Commander - by the end of ASOIAF the most likely outcome.

In the show, Stannis lost the subsequent battle with the Boltons and was then killed by Brienne. While the same battle ("Battle of Ice") is also happening in the books shortly after the Theon TWOW chapter, we can actually rule out this scenario rather easily for the books. One, Shireen is hundreds of miles away in Castle Black, and there is no way that she could get to Stannis in time to get burned. Two, Stannis is likely going to win the battle and seize Winterfell afterwards, for both plot and theme reasons. Three, in the Davos ASOS chapters we see that Stannis is prepared to burn an innocent child alive ... to save a million from the dark. A.K.A from the Others, not for a battle. And Melisandre wanted to wake a dragon from stone with said sacrifice, but there is no stone dragon available anywhere except maybe in Winterfell. Fourth, Brienne is nowhere near close enough to Stannis and the only appearance of Stannis in her POV is this:

They are not his sons. Stannis told it true, that day he met with Renly. Joffrey and Tommen were never Robert's sons. 

This isn't the comment she'd make if she still cared deeply about avenging Renly - especially when contrasted to this:

Timeon was still trying to fight as she pulled her blade from him, its fullers running red with blood. He clawed at his belt and came up with a dagger, so Brienne cut his hand off. That one was for Jaime. 

Fifth, Stannis being Azor Ahai is one of the lies Daenerys has to slay. Him falling against the Boltons would break that prophecy.

In fact, I am going to go out on a limb and say that any scenario that has Stannis dying before the invasion of the Others is ruled out for the above reasons. That probably guarantees his survival into ADoS, since it's likely that the climax of the Other invasion and Daenerys' arrival happen there.

That leaves a few scenarios. The one where he is killed by Daenerys is seemingly unpopular, probably for good reason: There isn't much of a concrete reason for her to do so - especially since in the books, the conflict and eventual destruction of King's Landing likely precedes Daenerys' arrival in the North - and when you look closely you notice that the "blue-eyed king" (=Stannis) isn't actually the subject of the slayer of lies prophecy, while the "cloth dragon" (=Aegon) and "stone beast" (=Euron?) are. A hint that this encounter will be less lethal.

A very popular theory is that Stannis becomes the new Night's King. Probably unjustifiably so, though:

The similitude between the two isn't that great. Melisandre as we see in her POV chapter isn't actually an Evil Seducer, while the woman with the Night's King seems to fit the description of the Others more. Human sacrifice wasn't the Night's King's foremost sin, either. Finally, lots of people other than the Night's King resided or set foot in the Nightfort, there is no evidence that it has a cursing effect akin to the Harrenhal curse, and Stannis hasn't actually visited it yet.

Going by Old Nan's tale of the Night's King, it seems like he was seduced by the power to betray humanity to the Others. While Stannis contemplates sacrificing one person for humanity. In other words, the exact opposite motivations. In this context, @turtle-paced's analysis of the Night's King here as book!Euron should be read.

Oh yeah, and the Euron Greyjoy we see in TWOW The Forsaken preview chapter is a far better candidate for "new Night's King" than Stannis (or Jon Snow, or Bran)

The second-to-last theory is that Stannis simply dies, presumably in battle against the Others, after the attempt to awake a dragon with thr Shireen sacrifice fails. Given that the "slayer of lies" prophecy and the discussions between Melisandre, Maester Aemon and Jon Snow imply that Stannis isn't Azor Ahai, I think it's safe to assume that the sacrifice will indeed fail. That said, while once again @turtle-paced wrote an argument I once again can't find about how this outcome would be in character, I don't recall any specific foreshadowing.

The last theory also presumes that the sacrifice will fail, but that Stannis will join the Night's Watch in atonement at the end. And that, well, has some foreshadowing: In Jon XI ASOS:

They found Stannis Baratheon standing aloneat the edge of the Wall, brooding over the field where he had won his battle, and the great green forest beyond. He was dressed in the same black breeches, tunic, and boots that a brother of theNight's Watch might wear. Only his cloak set him apart; a heavy golden cloak trimmed in black fur, and pinned with a brooch in the shape of a flaming heart

Jon VIII ADWD, in particular considering the fact that the Shireen sacrifice will consist of burning her alive as per the other sacrifices Melisandre and Stannis have carried out:

Jon's temper flashed. "They have followed worse. The Old Bear left a few cautionary notes about certain of the men, for his successor. We have a cook at the Shadow Tower who was fond of raping septas. He burned a seven-pointed star into his flesh for every one he claimed. His left arm is stars from wrist to elbow, and stars mark his calves as well. At Eastwatch we have a man who set his father's house afire and barred the door. His entire family burned to death, allnine. Whatever Satin may have done in Oldtown, he is our brother now, and he will be my squire."

And given that Stannis takes advice from a King's Landing smuggler and will win the battle of Winterfell with pirate tactics ("wrecking" with false lighthouses; Davos I ADWD), Davos II ACoK:

"Salladhor Saan thinks only of gold!" Stannis exploded. "His head is full of dreams of the treasure he fancies lies under the Red Keep, so let us hear no more of Salladhor Saan. The day I need military counsel from a Lysene brigand is the day I put off my crown and take the black." The king made a fist. "Are you here to serve me, smuggler? Or to vex me with arguments?"

Moreover, it's noted in-story that Jon Snow is the 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and after his assassination we'll probably see the election of a 999th afterwards - probably one of the mutineers. That leaves slot 1000 for after the series, since the Wall will almost certainly fall, and it calls for a big name. And the dutiful, skilled-in-military-matters, not very sociable Stannis Baratheon would probably fit right in the Night's Watch.

[raspberryfingers]

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 22)

WARNING: Battle, blood, NSFW

—————

The ride to Winterfell had been long and tiring, especially as we had forgone a carriage and I’d been riding right beside Tywin the entire time. The Lannister men had proved decent, though I suspected most of their respect toward me was because of what had happened to the last Lannister soldiers that had spoken poorly of me. 

When we arrived at Winterfell, several camps were already set up by other northerners, though it seemed most people were within the castle’s walls. 

Tywin had already sent a raven ahead to Robb Stark, and as we approached the gates, he met us there with his family. 

“Lord Tywin, Lady (Y/N),” Robb greeted us, some stable hands taking our horses away once we had dismounted. The Lannister troops were already setting up their tents outside. Tywin shook Robb’s hand, yet when Robb approached me, he smiled and wrapped me into his arms. 

“It’s good to see you again, Lady (Y/N).”

“And you, Lord Stark.” 

I saw a hint of possessiveness in Tywin’s eyes as Robb embraced me, but it left once we had broken apart. We were all standing just within the large gates of Winterfell, and nearby I found several of the Starks lined up waiting to greet us. 

“Come, I’ll introduce you to my family,” Robb said with a smile, showing us over. His wife and baby waited excitedly, though I could tell Robb was still somehow nervous. I expected he didn’t entirely trust Tywin after learning what might’ve happened. I gave Robb a gentle nod to tell him all was well. 

“My wife, Lady Talisa, and our boy, Eddard,” Robb introduced. Tywin bowed his head, and she gave a decent curtsy. As decent as one can manage with a baby on their hips, anyways. I curtsied back to her, removing the gloves from my hands and smiling as I ran my hand over the boy’s head. He already had dark, curled hair like his father. 

“My mother, of course,” he continued, and I watched both Tywin reach out to kiss Catelyn’s hand. It was the respect she had earned, especially after sending Jaime back to him. Her and I nodded at each other, both smiling appropriately.

“And my younger siblings, Arya and Rickon.”

As Robb said it, Tywin froze like a deer, and I gave him a curious look as he made eye contact with the young girl. Arya, as Robb had said. Something felt tense, and then all of a sudden, Tywin smiled at her. 

“Too smart for your own good, hm?” He mumbled, raising an eyebrow at her. She smiled up at him, with a sort of knowing look in her eyes. She’d met him before, it seemed. I had not a clue how.

“Yes, m’lord.”

Everyone else looked beyond confused, especially as Tywin began to laugh. What in the seven hells was going on? He moved on then, nodding at the boy beside her before stepping back and looking at Robb again before questions could be asked.

“I’ll show you all to your chambers. You must be exhausted,” Robb said, motioning for us to follow him. It was somewhat awkward, though, as if he was still recovering from what we’d just witnessed.

“It was a long ride. We were worried we might not make it in time,” I noted as we walked with him. Robb’s family had mostly dispersed, but I saw Catelyn questioning Arya with a look of mortification. 

Odd.

“Well, we appreciate you coming. Seems we’ve gotten lucky, I imagine the battle will be over in less than 30 minutes. A great deal of Stannis’ troops have deserted him. He’s down to 4,000 men,” Robb informed us. Tywin and I looked at each other, a certain smugness on our faces. This wasn’t going to be difficult at all. 

“I hope you can forgive it, but I’ve put the two of you in a single room together. We’re rather short on extra rooms at the moment,” Robb said, leading us down another hallway.

“Of course, Robb. It’s not a problem at all,” I said, giving Tywin a cheeky grin. He only shook his head at me, and I had to resist the urge to laugh. 

“The two of you are to be married soon, aren’t you?” Robb asked, looking back at us and smiling. 

“Yes, in about a month or so. I hoped to invite you and your family in person,” Tywin said as we all stopped before a door. Our room, I presumed.

“It would do us a great honor, Lord Tywin,” he said, opening our door now. We nodded at him, and I placed a hand on his shoulder before entering the room.

When the door was shut, Tywin instantly relaxed. He let out a sigh as I came up behind him, glad to be alone now. 

“Let me help you out of your armor,” I said softly, hands moving onto his back for a moment. He nodded, and I began working on helping him out of it. The sash came off first, as beautiful as it looked on him.

“Have you seen the Stark girl before? Arya, I believe. You seemed awfully amused by her,” I questioned, setting his breastplate down and continuing to work away at it. 

“She was my cupbearer at Harrenhal. She was disguised as a boy, and none of the bloody fools there even realized she wasn’t one. I took her on while I was there. Pleasant girl, rather sharp. I figured out that she was highborn rather quickly, though I never would’ve realized she was a Stark,” he explained, to which I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Who would have thought?

“A lion and his pup,” I teased, to which he gave me a reprimanding look. It only served to make me laugh harder as I finished removing his armor. He shook off his shoulders once he was free, turning around to kiss me. He had the lustful look in his eyes that appeared whenever he was exhausted and in need of relaxation. 

“I ought to help you out of that dress, as pretty as it is,” he mumbled against my lips, his hands on my waist. I wrapped my arms around his neck. The dress I was wearing was rather pretty, a deep red and quite warm. 

“After the battle, Tywin. You need some incentive to stay alive,” I jested, pulling away and heading toward the dresser to undo my hair. He chuckled at that, and came up behind me now. I felt his stubble and gentle lips vaguely press against my neck.

“It seems Robb Stark won’t need our troops after all.”

“He never did. It’s a symbol of alliance, not of genuine help. Plus, you and I will help make it a much shorter battle. Mostly me,” I joked, grinning at him in the mirror. He made a sarcastic hum of agreement before walking over to warm himself by the fire.

“I’m surprised you’re inviting Robb Stark to our wedding,” I said then, wanting to dig a little deeper on what he had said so casually. 

“I felt I ought to. Wedding invitations always strengthen alliances,” he reasoned.

“Who else are you inviting?”

“The guest list is mostly up to your grandmother, despite my protests. The only House I’ve explicitly asked her not to invite is the Freys. Walder Frey is going to realize very quickly that I’m the reason you didn’t end up marrying his son,” he said, pulling a chair closer to the hearth and sitting down. 

“Don’t you think it’ll be more obvious if you don’t invite him?” I pointed out, though I was certain Tywin had some reason or another for it. 

“Yes, it will be. I want him to know. I want him to know that you’re mine. No fool son of his could ever stand a chance,” he scowled, gazing into the flames. I could see the fire reflected in his own eyes. I feared he was being too prideful.

“You’re creating an enemy and completely discarding the significance of Tyrion’s marriage to Roslin.”

“So be it.”

I stood from the dresser, making my way over to him and taking his face in my hands. He looked up at me with those intense eyes, and I knew every word he’d said he meant.

“Wouldn’t you rather parade me? Invite Walder Frey to the wedding, Tywin. I want him to see me kissing you at the altar, to see me smiling at you. That way, as far as anyone else is concerned nothing is wrong. If he tries to claim you thwarted that arrangement, nobody will believe it,” I suggested, stroking his stubble with the back of my fingers. He closed his eyes as he leaned into my touch.

“Have it your way then, woman. You always do,” he whispered, grabbing my hand and holding it near his face so he could kiss it. I smiled, leaning down to press my own lips to his forehead. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Tywin, whether or not you’d like us to have a bedding ceremony,” I mentioned, moving away from him to pour two glasses of wine. He turned and looked over at me.

“Why? Do you have a preference?” He questioned, accepting the cup that I brought him and drinking, presumably to warm himself up. 

“I thought you would, given well… you know,” I said, pulling up another chair to sit beside him in front of the fire. He adjusted himself in the seat, clearly uncomfortable at the mention of what had happened with Aerys. 

“I don’t have any worries, as far as I’m concerned there aren’t any other men vying for your affections. Well, there are, but none bold enough to do what Aerys did. Or stupid enough, for that matter. What are your thoughts on the matter?” He reasoned, tilting his head and squinting inquisitively. 

“I wouldn’t mind having one. A harmless tradition, and it puts people in good spirits. Plus, I’ll enjoy watching you get all jealous when all the other men begin to undress me,” I teased, laughing when he rolled his eyes. 

“And you won’t mind watching the other ladies undressing me?” 

“Oh, I will, but I’ll make you moan loud enough that they know who you belong to,” I said confidently, making him look at me with a subtle pride.

“You become more like a lion everyday,” he commented, sipping his wine and moving his feet a bit closer to the fire. 

“Is that so? I hope you realize, Tywin, I don’t intend to be referred to as Lady Lannister. Even as your wife, I don’t care to give part of myself up. I’ve always been a Tyrell and I always will be,” I advocated, not wanting him to be under the impression that I would sacrifice my identity the moment I became his wife. 

“I’m aware. I’ve never expected you to take my name, especially since you are going to continue to be the head of the Tyrell army. It would hardly be appropriate for you to go by anything else but Tyrell,” he said, nodding in agreement. It made me feel at ease, and I was glad he didn’t have any problems with my sentiment.

“Loras wrote back, he was quite happy to hear about the marriage. He’s been expecting it, I would assume. He was the first person I told about my feelings towards you,” I informed, making Tywin raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“Loras? I’m surprised you told him before Margaery.”

“As much as I love Margaery, she never keeps a thing from our grandmother. Loras and I have always looked after one another. I trust him to keep things private,” I explained to him. 

“His wife will be happy to see her family at the wedding.”

“Yes, I’m certain she will. I also believe she may be with child, as Loras explained he had some news of his own that he would tell me in person,” I said, smiling. I knew Loras had never wanted to marry a woman, but I felt confident that he would love his children. He had always been so sweet with Margaery, and I had no doubt in my mind he and Sansa would raise a compassionate young lord or lady. 

“It seems you’ve upheld your part of the bargain. Now Tyrion must uphold my part,” he scoffed, a sharp annoyance in his voice. 

“It’s of no consequence to me if he doesn’t. You’d better pray for it, though,” I smiled, laughing at him because he was so utterly annoyed. 

“Praying is no use. The gods never give, they only take,” he muttered sourly. 

“All will be well, Tywin. Tyrion and Lady Roslin got along at the wedding by all accounts. Give them some time,” I said, reaching out to place my hand on top of his. He said nothing, but gave my hand a gentle squeeze. 

“We ought to get some rest. Stannis marches tomorrow,” he said after a moment. I nodded in agreement, though I seriously doubted we would need rest. 

For the Gods sake, it was only 4,000 men. We would crush them.

—————

Tywin was helping me into my armor, and I couldn’t help but smile at myself in the mirror. It was such a beautiful set, and I still remembered the day he’d given it to me in perfect detail. Plus, I was more than just a little excited to go to battle. 

“Will you help me with my sash?” Tywin asked once he’d finished with my armor. I turned around to face him, and I nodded quickly. I reached for the red cloth laid out on the bed, draping it over Tywin’s shoulder and adjusting the length. After that, I looped his belt around his waist and fixed everything to make it look nice. Lord Tywin Lannister had suddenly emerged, it seemed. 

“You look so handsome in your armor, Tywin,” I complimented, observing just how powerful he became. It made him look larger than he was, and I couldn’t deny finding it erotic. 

“Does it intimidate you?” He said quietly, which served to make his voice deeper than usual. I felt heat rushing to my cheeks as our eyes met.

“Yes.”

“And you like that, don’t you?”

I found myself unable to do anything but nod, and his hand came to my chin. He scanned my face with a smug look in his eyes. 

“Don’t you?”

“Y-Yes, Tywin.”

He gave a satisfied smile, removing his hand from my face.

“You look like quite the image in your armor, too. An angel of death,” he muttered, tucking a loose stand back. My hair was done up so it wouldn’t interfere underneath my helmet, and I gathered that Tywin liked the look of it. 

“Do you think men are grateful to see my face as they die?” I wondered smugly, letting myself be a bit cocky. There was no fun in being unusually humble. I’d worked hard for my abilities. 

“I certainly would be.”

Just then, a knock at the door. Tywin moved away and opened it, finding one of his guards there.

“Is it time?”

“It is, my lord.”

Tywin nodded, turning to me to see if I was reading. Sheathing my sword and daggers, I followed the two men outside eagerly. Gods, there was nothing like the feeling before a battle. 

We made our way outside, observing the sun quite high in the sky, and additionally finding our horses saddled up and waiting for us. I could hear the Rains of Castamere being played nearby, and it made me smile. Our troops represented the smallest portion of the men fighting today, yet I had no doubt we’d fight with pride. 

I mounted my own horse, watching Tywin do the same. It seemed Robb had already ordered the troops to assemble, for as we exited the gates, we found thousands of men already prepared, and ours were among them. 

“4,000 men… they don’t stand a chance, no matter how well they attempt to build their trenches,” I whispered, to which Tywin gave a sinister grin. He always had that look on his face when he was about to crush someone. 

“No, they don’t.”

We watched Robb Stark emerge followed by some of his closest men, along with Brienne of Tarth, and we all gave him respectful nods. He approached us, helmet under his arm. 

“Are you all ready?”

“Yes, Lord Stark,” Tywin affirmed. 

“Good. We’ll let the archers start, then we’ll charge,” Robb informed, to which the two of us nodded in agreement. There was no need to charge unnecessarily if Stannis was in a secure position. It made more sense to kill off his men first. 

He left us then, going to command his own men to the right of us. Tywin did not waste any time before motioning for the archers to move up.

They did so in perfect formation, taking a step forward and reaching for their arrows. Tywin looked over at Robb Stark, and once all the archers were in position, they lifted their hands. 

“Knock!” Tywin shouted, each man pulling his arrow into place and preparing to let their arrows rain down upon Stannis’ army. Courtesy of me, all the Lannister archers had arrows covered in poison. Any arrows that didn’t kill immediately would kill eventually, rest assured. 

The Old Lion and the Young Wolf brought their hands down together, both yelling for a release, and I watched what must’ve been a thousand arrows shoot through the sky. 

They found their way into Stannis’ trenches, and the screaming began. Again, the archers were ordered to knock, and did so. They released once more, and this time there were considerably less shouts. The men were getting into safe positions, it seemed. 

“Has Lord Stark instructed us on what to do should Stannis refuse to emerge?” I asked, looking over at him curiously. 

“Yes. We wait.”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised by that. 

“How long?”

“Hours, days, weeks if need be. Stannis will have no choice eventually.”

The choice didn’t sit right with me, especially as I looked around. We had over 10,000 men, and hundreds of horses, which they had none of. Why would we ever wait? 

“We’re going to use up our stored food rather quickly if we wait that long,” I said, knowing exactly just how much food armies required.

“So will Stannis, and he’s got far less than we do,” Tywin noted. 

“Yes, except he’s also got less men, and they’ve become accustomed to starving by now,” I muttered, shaking my head and reaching for my reins. The archers fired again, but there were hardly any men being killed. 

I pulled the reins right, spurring my horse and riding over to Robb. I saw Tywin give me a quizzical look, but he didn’t follow. He trusted me, I presumed. 

I approached Robb, and he raised an eyebrow when he saw me.

“Lady (Y/N), is everything alright?”

“You told Tywin you wanted to wait Stannis out?” I questioned, making certain that was the exact plan.

“Yes, my lady. Do you oppose it?” He responded, adjusting his grip on the horn of his saddle. 

“We have too many men here to wait him out. I know Stannis doesn't have food stores to begin with, but if we wait too long for him, ours will dry up just as fast. His men are accustomed to starving, but ours aren’t. I know that waiting him out and meeting him on the open field will reduce casualties, but it only reduces casualties on the battlefield. If we wait weeks for him, we’re going to waste a lot of good food over Stannis Baratheon. That’s good food your people will need during the coming winter, lest they starve,” I explained, watching him nod and process what I was saying. He knew I was right.

“So what do you recommend, Lady (Y/N)?”

“We give Stannis an hour. If he refuses to meet us on the open field, I say we spread out and circle the trenches. It’ll make our lines thin, but the closer we get the thicker they can become. Trap them against, or rather in, the trench. Position our archers above them,” I suggested, looking over at the space he’d built. It was a long trench, but not so long we couldn’t completely cover a side and a half, which was all we needed if the archers could sneak through the stakes. 

“Very well. Inform Lord Tywin, we’ll wait an hour. If he sends up archers before the hour’s done, we go through with that plan anyways. We’ve enough shields to make it effective. If they decide to meet us on the field, then so be it.”

I nodded at him, riding back over to Tywin, who raised his eyebrows at me.

“Well?”

“Lord Stark has said we’ll wait an hour for Stannis at most. Then we’re to spread out and circle the trench. Archers will position themselves above, the spikes are small enough for it,” I explained, to which Tywin gave a single nod. 

“It didn’t take much for you to convince him,” he remarked, not bothering to look over. I wasn’t looking at him either.

“It doesn’t take much when you’re in the right. Though, I hope he comes out before the hour’s done. An open field battle would be more fun,” I said in response. 

Just then, almost as if an immediate answer, we saw men emerging from the trenches. Archers. 200 or so, and I watched as they began to knock their bows. I quickly put on my helmet, and I watched Tywin do the same. 

Their arrows went over us, and we watched the men raise their shields, only a few being hit at all. Stannis’ archers began to move forward, and more men began to emerge from the trenches, Stannis faithfully in front of them all with his sword raised. 

I smiled, knowing that Stannis was a principled man before all else. Better to die bravely than die stuck in a trench. 

I drew my sword, and I heard the metal clinking of the Lannister army closing their eye flaps. I looked over at Tywin, and reminded myself I’d have to keep my eyes on his red sash, otherwise I’d lose him among the others. Should his horse fall, at least. 

Our entire army began walking toward Stannis’ and there was not a sound besides that of feet hitting the earth. The ground was shaking, and it reminded me of Blackwater. The ground shook then, too. 

The closer we got, the faster the pace became, and eventually everyone was running toward each other. Toward death, really. 

Tywin was riding right beside me the whole time, even as we plowed into Stannis’ men and began to cut them down. Many clawed at us, trying to hit us, but it was no use. Those that weren’t trampled found their heads detached from their bodies. Valyrian steel, indeed. 

My horse was cut down before Tywin’s, and as I fell to the ground I heard him yelling my name. Thankfully, I had not been hurt and was able to pull my legs out with ease, getting up just as quickly as I’d fallen and beginning to fight off the men around me. 

A decent sense of dread filled me, as I couldn’t see Tywin from my position. I was in the thickest part of the battle, and all around me men were yelling and crashing into each other. 

I did, however, enjoy plunging my sword into man after man. Each of them seemed to realize I was a woman just as I killed them, and it always gave me such a great satisfaction to witness. 

“(Y/N)!”

I heard my name being called from somewhere in front of me, and I realized Tywin must’ve been cut down as well. 

“Tywin!” I yelled back, more to let him know I was alright then anything. I plugged straight through a man’s throat, and slit two more before I could see the bright red sash. I still found myself killing two more men before I was beside Tywin, and when he spotted my bright, colorful armor, he seemed relieved. 

Both of our swords were covered in blood, and continued to be as we moved through all the bodies around us. One man around us appeared to be quite skilled, which was unfortunate given that he was one of Stannis’ men. 

I locked eyes with him, and we rushed toward each other, swords clashing as we met. He stepped back, spinning his sword before swinging it at me again. I smiled, blocking him before lifting my sword and bringing it down on him. He managed to stop me from splitting his skull, however, and we continued to have a bit of a fight for a few minutes. 

That was until I saw the red sash fall to the ground, and I realized a man had tackled Tywin down somehow. 

Needing to go help him, I blocked the man’s sword and removed one of my daggers, stabbing him directly in the side of his head and removing it before rushing away. Most of the time, the way I fought was for fun, not because I couldn’t kill the man. 

I found Tywin with another, rather large man on top of him, swords pressed against each other, and it appeared that Tywin was about to get his throat slit with his own sword. 

I scowled, running and plunging my sword through the man’s face just as Tywin had done for me at the battle of Blackwater. When he collapsed on the ground next to Tywin and Tywin gasped out, I fell to my knees beside him.

“Tywin! Are you alright? Are you hurt?” I asked in a panic, observing him for anything that might be wrong. His helmet had come off in the fight, and he had a cut along his left cheek, and it made me worried something else might’ve happened. I had one hand pressed to his cheek, and he sat up, not wanting to be trampled.

“I’m fine, (Y/N), I’m fine. Come on.”

I helped him up, and he looked down at me with a certain fondness. I wondered what he was thinking, just for a moment. 

We pressed our backs together now, killing any men that were stupid enough to try and approach us, especially as the fighting had begun to thin out. The sight of our armor alone must’ve possessed them to try it. 

Ah, yes, the thought of killing (Y/N) Tyrell and Tywin Lannister must’ve sparkled in their heads when they saw us. It was unfortunate none of them were talented enough to do it. 

Eventually, it was announced that Stannis had fallen. Brienne of Tarth had killed him, apparently. Upon learning this, his men began to flee, and we all cheered. The battle had been won, and it had seemingly taken less than an hour. 

I turned to Tywin, and he reached for my helmet, pulling it off my head and letting it drop to the ground. He grabbed the neckline of my armor and pulled me toward him, kissing me passionately. I reached for the back of his head then, kissing back despite my surprise. I would not have expected him to make such a public display, but I wasn’t upset in the slightest. 

“Tywin…” I whispered when we broke apart, sheathing my sword and looking up at him. There was something ruggedly handsome about the cut along his cheek. It wasn’t deep, so I doubted he would end up with something that looked anything like Tyrion’s, but it was still attractive. It cut through a bit of his stubble, and I knew the hairless patch would remain as evidence after he was healed. 

“You saved my life,” he muttered, sheathing his own sword and then cupping my face. I smiled up at him.

“I was merely paying the debt, Tywin,” I joked, reaching up to kiss his sweaty cheek. I was admittedly also sweating and out of breath. It had been an intense fight. 

“Come, we’ll head back. I expect the feast tonight will be quite the event,” he reasoned, both of us making our way through the battlefield with the rest of the men. I laughed and nodded.

“I ought to bathe and change beforehand. I can clean that cut up too, if you come with me,” I offered, motioning to his face. 

“I’m lucky it’s taken me this long to acquire a scar,” he noted, stepping over the bodies beneath our feet. 

“It’ll just make you more handsome.”

He laughed at that, smiling over at me. I couldn’t deny feeling especially attracted to him right now, all bloodied and messy. It was a primal feeling. 

Eventually, we found ourselves back in our chambers, and it didn’t take the maids long to bring a tub with hot water.

Tywin helped me out of my armor, and I stayed in my coat and pants as I helped him with his own cut. 

“Here, sit down in the chair, Tywin,” I said, motioning for him as I dipped a cloth into the hot water. He obeyed, and I raised it to his face, gently cleaning up the small cut. He looked as if there was no pain at all, and the entire time all he did was stare into my eyes. He looked beautiful. 

“I’m sorry if it hurts,” I said, finally managing to clean up all the dried blood. He made a noise of disagreement.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you,” he said as I wiped down the rest of his face and fixed his messy hair. I nodded, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Now, go join the feast. I’ll be with you momentarily,” I said, beginning to undo my coat. He raised an eyebrow, but I shooed him out. I was enjoying testing his patience, and truthfully I was starving. If I’d let him stay, we definitely would not have joined the feast. 

—————

After the feast, it was quite late, and both Tywin and I had drinken a fair share of several different kinds of alcohol. He was inclined towards wine, though. Neither of us were drunk, but we were in quite the adventurous mood when we returned to our chambers. 

Tywin slammed the door shut behind us, and I was laughing lightly as he reached for me and began to kiss me. I could taste the wine he’d drinken, and it made me eager for more as I pressed myself against his armor. 

“I believe you promised me something after the battle,” he muttered against my lips, one hand groping my ass and the other groping one of my breasts. There was an unmistakable fire in his eyes. Not to mention, the warmth and light from the hearth gave the room a particularly nice feeling, and the furs along the bed looked just as appealing. 

“Did I? And what did I promise you?” I questioned innocently, batting my eyelashes up at him. He scowled, grabbing at the back of my dress. 

“That you’d let me take your dress off. Don’t you remember?” He whispered in my ear, beginning to undo it. I held his neck, closing my eyes because I felt such a nervous excitement. Sex with Tywin always made me feel nervous excitement, it seemed. It was never dull, after all. 

“Oh, perhaps you’re right. I seem to remember something along those lines,” I gasped as he began to kiss my neck. I tried to reach around him so I could help him out of his armor, but he made a noise of protest and turned me around. 

Gently, he pushed me onto the bed and continued undoing my dress. I looked over my shoulder with surprise as he began to pull it off of me. 

“You’re not going to remove your armor?”

“No.”

I shivered in the cold air as he removed all my undergarments, leaving me bare against the furs. I heard him shuffling around behind me, and I assumed he was freeing himself from his coat and pants. 

I felt his hands against my back, and I let out a soft sigh as I gazed at the fire. There was something rhythmic about the way his hands moved against my skin, and I felt myself growing needier with every passing second that he wasn’t inside me. 

“Tywin… please,” I whined, shutting my eyes and gasping as he gave my ass a hard smack. 

“Quiet. You’ve been testing my patience, now I’m going to test yours,” he muttered, stepping closer. I gave a squeak as the cold metal of his armor pressed against the back of my thighs, and he chuckled lowly. 

I felt his cock rubbing against me, and I moaned out as he pressed against my clit, the friction making me want even more. Gods, the man was going to drive me insane. 

“My lord…” I said subconsciously, probably as a result of the armor, and not expecting him to have any reaction to it. I couldn’t have been less wrong though, as he flipped me onto my back and looked down at me. He looked like a man possessed. 

“Say that again.”

I looked at him quizzically, his hands between my legs, holding them open as he continued to rub his cock against me. I shuddered, biting my lip.

“M-My lord,” I whispered, back arching as he slowly began to push inside of me. I was usually not so submissive in bed with Tywin, and it seemed to be doing something to him. 

As he pushed all the way inside me, I was unable to hold back a moan, and neither was he.

“Gods… so wet,” he mumbled, slowly beginning to thrust into me. His armor slapped against my skin, and it was rather erotic for me. His hands were holding my hips up closer to him, fingers digging into my waist. 

“Tywin… I need more,” I whined out, being tormented by his slow pace. He normally liked to tease, but I had a feeling he was just as eager as I was, and so he began to move his hips with a bit more force. I cried out, gripping the furs underneath me in pleasure. 

He was so full inside of me, so satisfying. 

“Do you see me, (Y/N)? Do you see me inside you? Filling you up like a whore,” Tywin snarled, picking up his pace even more and practically pounding into me. When I looked down, I realized I could see him, or rather the motion of him as my stomach rose and fell with his thrusts. The visual made me whine out his name, and he merely groaned in response. 

Tywin began to press down on my lower stomach, and it brought even more pleasure somehow. He’d never done it before, and I was currently discovering that it was extremely pleasant.

“Yes… yes Tywin! I’m your little whore,” I mumbled absentmindedly, only half processing what was really coming out of my mouth. Tywin gave a deep, sinister chuckle as he continued to fuck me, hips snapping against mine in an overwhelming manner. 

“Does it turn you on? Being fucked by me while I’m in my armor, still covered in the blood of our enemies?” He groaned, reaching down with one hand to rub my clit. I whined out again, nodding my head vigorously. 

“Gods, you’re desperate,” he hissed, pounding into me with even more force. I couldn’t deny the loud moan that came from my throat.

“T-Tywin! Someone’s… someone’s going to hear,” I choked out, knowing I was only going to get louder. The unfortunate thing about the tower of the hand was that I’d become so accustomed to moaning as loud as I wanted that it was now a struggle to contain myself. 

“The walls are stone, sweet girl. And if someone does hear you, then let them,” he responded, smiling as he began to hit my g-spot. I cried out in turn, reaching out for him. I grabbed his forearms, trying to steady myself. I was thrashing beneath him, and I felt myself lifting from the blankets over and over again. 

“T-Too much… too much, Tywin,” I cried, trying to escape him almost. His face was blank as he watched me squirm.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked, voice even. I shook my head vehemently, and even through my hazy vision I saw him smirk. 

There was pressure building in my abdomen, not so much that of an orgasm, but that of a physical release. 

“Tywin… Tywin I’m going to…” I attempted to express myself, but in all honesty I had no idea how to say it. 

“Are you going to cum?”

I shook my head, and he nodded in understanding, continuing his vigorous pace to help me along.

“Go on then, be a good girl- and wet my cock for me,” he said through his teeth, exhaling with his pleasure.

Before I knew it, I felt myself squirting all over him, and we both let out rather loud cries of ecstasy. He threw his head back, chuckling slightly as he moaned. 

“The most dangerous woman in Westeros… they ought to see you like this,” Tywin muttered, applying a bit more pressure to my clit and enjoying the way I sang for him in response.

“Fuck! Fuck… fuck, Tywin,” I gasped, not caring at all that my vulgarity wasn’t ‘ladylike.’ It was odd, because I found myself hesitant to curse but very inclined towards killing. I guessed that it was because I knew how to keep the political and the military sides of me separate. 

These thoughts were half stringed together, though, because the only thing I could focus on was the way Tywin was driving his hips into mine. There were four distinct sounds in the room: the fire cracking, the creaking of the bed, our skin slapping together, and my desperate whines.

Tywin gave the occasional groan, of course, but he was far more restrained than I was. 

This was especially true as I felt my orgasm approaching and I began to shake beneath him.

“Don’t stop… don’t stop, Tywin,” I gasped, pleasure shooting through me as his hand continued its motions and his cock persisted in filling me up. Gods, he was so big. 

“You’re going to cum, aren’t you?” He teased, watching me throw my head back and cry out. 

“Yes! Yes… I’m going to cum!” I whined, feeling closer and closer to finishing with every second that passed. 

“Cum for me, sweet girl. Cum for me and let me hear you scream.”

Hearing his commands, and being instilled with a deep feeling of pleasure alone simply by the nature of his words, I felt myself being sent over the edge. I came hard on his cock, practically screaming his name as I shook so passionately beneath him. 

I felt as if lightning was coursing through my body, and Tywin groaned as I began to pulse and squeeze around his cock. 

As I came down from my own orgasm, he chased his own, and it wasn’t long before he pulled out and finished on my stomach. I watched—and felt—his cum spill onto my skin, and I intertwined my hands with his as I watched him catch his breath and shut his eyes. 

“(Y/N)… (Y/N)…” he whispered, a few spurts of his seed still releasing onto my skin. I found myself sitting up to undo his armor, and I pulled it off to set aside. 

I stripped him of the rest of his clothes, and he pressed his forehead to mine once I’d done so. We were both sticky, sweaty, and tired, and I was grateful when he reached for a cloth and began to clean me up. 

“Get in bed, sweet girl, I’ll clean up and then I’ll join you,” Tywin muttered, kissing my forehead and cupping my cheek. I nodded, scooting back and burying myself under the blankets and furs. I pulled some of them back, though, as it was hotter in the room now. 

Tywin cleaned himself up too before dropping the cloth to the floor and joining me in bed. 

“I pity whatever maid is cleaning this room tomorrow,” I mumbled as he pulled me close. 

“Well, it’s your fault, not mine.”

I laughed softly, nuzzling my head into his chest and propping my knee up on his thigh. The fire’s noise was quite soothing, and as Tywin began to stroke my hair, I felt myself being slowly lulled to sleep. 

In my dreams, Tywin and I were back in the forest near Kings Landing. I saw him armed with a crossbow, and carefully we snuck up on and shot a rather large stag. In the morning, I would reflect that I was glad to be rid of Stannis Baratheon. We’d taken out another ‘claim’ to the throne, and had strengthened our position in turn. 

Our position.

It was an odd thing that I’d noticed recently. I had begun to say our when it came to anything in relation to House Lannister. I’d begun associating the interests of Tywin’s house with my own. 

It made me also reflect that in a way, I was grateful for Stannis Baratheon. He was responsible for uniting House Tyrell and House Lannister, and if not for the threat he posed, Tywin and I never would’ve become familiar. 

I found that in a way, I was even grateful for the man who had nearly killed me. It was all these things, all these small little pieces on a giant chessboard.

Somehow, they’d all led me to Tywin. 

And now here I was, laying naked in bed beside him, content and happier than I’d ever been in my life, waiting for the day I could genuinely pledge my love to him in sight of the gods. 

TAGLIST:

@cheyxfu @lemonscoffee @groovy-lady @ladysindar @vesta-ro @exo-nova @paola-carter @prettykinkysoul @fullmoonshadowwrites @kishie8 @the-desilittle-bird @dianilaws @girlonfireice @muscari-fae @lostgirllulu @abigfanofgameofthrones @smalltownbigheart @frombloodandflesh @supernaturalismyreligion666 @thanyatargaryen

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Anemone - Jaime Lannister x Stark!OC

Anemone (Anemone) - Meaning: Forsaken love

Summary: After ignoring her for weeks, Jaime confronts his past love, Lorelai Stark, in the hidden grottoes of Winterfell with a warning.

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Stark!OC

Word Count: 1420

Warnings: Mentions of past sexual assault (no detail) and the day Jaime became the Kingslayer, mentions of smut and sluttiness (we don't slut shame here, we slut encourage), vague threats/warning

This may be the start to another series I wanted to write. Would y'all want to read a series following Lorelai? Let me know your thoughts.

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are SUPER appreciated! ❤️

All throughout the feast, Lorelai Stark kept trying to make eye contact with him, but he had expertly avoided her. Had their time in King’s Landing as joint hostages meant nothing to him? 

She knew that wasn’t true — that time had bonded them in irrevocable ways. They’d found comfort in one another’s arms, he would bring her books, he had apologized for standing by while the Mad King had brutally assaulted her. He brought her to the heights of pleasure night after night until the horns of House Lannister announced their arrival in the city. The rest was history. 

She’d assumed their history would’ve at least warranted a passing glance from him. Apparently not. 

When the royal retinue had arrived at the keep she’d been hopeful that Jaime would seek her out, even if it was only to make stiff pleasantries. He had danced with her once at the welcome banquet, but answered her questions monosyllabically and refused to look her in the eye. There were a few times she’d caught him looking her way in the tiltyard or at dinner but he was always quick to avert his gaze. 

Lorelai hadn’t expected him to drop to his knees and declare his undying love for her in the sight of gods and men, but she also hadn’t expected his terse coldness toward her. Some sort of acknowledgement of their shared history would’ve satisfied her — a wink, a smirk, a “hello,” even. She’d received nothing.

Too tired to do much else, she excused herself to her rooms and left the noisy feast hall.

Later that night while Drella finished brushing out her hair, Lorelai took in her reflection. The years had been kind to her, only showing a little around her eyes. She’d never thought herself a great beauty, but she had been pretty enough to entice a Myrish prince into her bed. 

And a Pentoshi merchant or two. 

And once a muscle-bound Dothraki bloodrider who spent the entire night growling at her in a language she didn’t understand. For all she knew, he had been insulting her the entire time.

Even if the years had been kind, seemingly they hadn’t been kind enough to tempt Jaime Lannister back to her. After all this time, everything they had shared meant nothing to him. And she had to accept that — she wasn’t going to throw herself at a former flame who had been ignoring her presence since his arrival. 

She dismissed Drella for the night and pulled on a dressing gown. Once the maid was gone she pulled on her darkest cloak and made her way outside. She grabbed a torch from the wall and used it to guide herself to the far side of the Great Hall, into the secret entrance that led down to the hot springs that provided warmth to the keep. 

Sometime long ago, one of her ancestors had dug out three grottoes deep underneath the keep and directed the warm waters into them. Some maesters believed they had been used as baths before tubs were readily available. Most of the denizens of Winterfell had forgotten about the grottoes, but Lorelai and Lyanna had come across them one day while exploring. 

The dark stone steps led her down, down, down into the bowels of Winterfell. Deeper even than the crypts on the other side of the keep. The movement of water could be heard as soon as she got to the bottom of the steps. Around a corner she entered the hallway that had three curved arches, two on her right and one on her left, each one leading to the private coves. 

Lorelai hooked the torch inside the arch on the left after lighting two more. She unclasped her cloak — the air was humid and warm down here. Her dressing gown soon followed. The pool on the left had always been her favorite, even though it was the smallest. She stepped onto the wooden walkway above the pool and sat down, dipping her feet into the water. 

Her loud sigh of relief echoed off the two thick stone arches that bisected the space above the pool. 

“Hello?” a voice said through the dark and she nearly leapt out of her skin. A soft glow turned the corner, the sound of boots scraping the floor coming closer and closer.

“Who goes there?” Lorelai demanded, pulling her feet out of the water and standing, cursing herself for not bringing a weapon — especially in light of Bran’s fall. She snatched her dressing gown off the wall and hastily tied it shut.

“Ser Jaime Lannister,” he said, voice echoing slightly. Lorelai poked her head out of the archway and sure enough, the golden knight of Lannister stood a few yards down the hallway. Torchlight lit him, making his golden hair glow and highlighting his features.

If the years had been kind to her, they had been downright magnanimous to Jaime. His jaw had sharpened and his body had filled out into that of a man. Any trace of boyishness she remembered was gone, replaced by features that were somehow rugged and ethereal at the same time. 

“What are you doing down here?” she asked as he sauntered closer. He hooked his torch in the hallway sconce and crossed his arms across his broad chest. 

“Looking for you, of course.” 

She exited the archway and gave him her full attention. “Nearly a month of living in the same place and you seek me out now? When we are set to journey together in two days?” 

Nothing but stolen glances. And now he’d followed her to her secret space in the dead of night.

“Yes,” he said, his words clipped and sharp. “I’ve come to warn you not to return to King’s Landing.” 

She quirked an eyebrow at him and took a step closer, the stone tiles cool against her bare feet. “Why not?” 

Jaime’s green eyes locked on hers. “Something may happen to you if you do.” 

“Are you threatening me?” A step back. 

He stepped forward, throwing his hands out toward her, “No! Not me, I would never. It’s…I worry for you, that’s all.” 

It was her turn to cross her arms, which enhanced her cleavage. “Am I supposed to believe you after how coldly you’ve been acting since you arrived?” 

Jaime’s eyes glanced at her chest, landing on her eyes again. He had the audacity to look contrite. “Keeping my distance from you is the only way I can keep you safe. If you go to King’s Landing, I cannot guarantee your safety.”

“You…you’re concerned for my safety?” She softened toward him. The truth showed in his eyes, but only those who had seen behind his mask could detect it. And she had seen behind his mask many, many times.  

“Of course I am. I’ve never stopped caring for you,” he said, closing the distance between them and brushing a swath of her hair over her shoulder. He let his fingers linger on the exposed skin of her collarbone and his other arm snaked around her waist. He pulled her closer and Lorelai felt warm all over. “Please, Lorelai, stay here, far away from the Red Keep.”

Her hand drifted to his chest, palm searching for his beating heart underneath his hot skin, just like she used to. Memories of their time together flashed in her mind’s eye. She looked up at him from under her lashes, heat flooding between her legs. “I survived there before, I can do it again.” 

Their breaths mingled, adding to the humidity of the space around them. His voice low, he murmured, “It’s an entirely different game this time, Lore.” 

“Then you’ll have to tell me the rules.” She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet and pushed herself up, seeking his lips. 

Jaime all but shoved her away. The sudden distance between them left her cold. He averted his eyes from her and shifted his weight between his feet. “I…I can’t.” 

Humiliation rose in her chest and she clenched her fists. “Then I’ll figure it out on my own. Leave now, Ser Jaime.”

Much to her chagrin, he did. Without a word, he lifted his torch out of the sconce and she listened to the sound of his boots against the floor until they faded entirely. 

Lorelai entered the underground pool and slipped into the warm water, nightdress and all, sinking until every part of her was underwater, including her head. Only there did she feel comfortable screaming out her frustration.

[alltheficsivereadsblog]

Braime (Jaime/Brienne) Master list 1

A close shave - ChocoNut E, 1k

Summary: Jaime wants a shave. He gets much more than that.

Now That You're Here - Lady_in_Red M, 8k

Summary: A woman's battle is in the birthing bed, where Jaime is helpless to protect those he loves.

Five times Jaime witnesses a birth.

When Jaime met Brienne... - ChocoNut T, 3k

Summary: Lord Selwyn, an ally of the Starks, sends his daughter to Winterfell to help her get over Renly who turns out to be no more than a one-dance wonder in her life.

When King Robert’s party arrives there at the same time, Brienne attracts a certain Kingslayer’s attention.

White - Lady_Blade_WarAngel M, 3k

Summary: Jaime and Selwyn talk, as Jaime fears that Brienne will die in childbirth with their latest addition. A Snowstorm begins and Brienne goes into labor early, leaving a heavy choice for her and Jaime to make.

Language of love - ChocoNut M, 1k

Summary: Jaime wants to ask his lady love to marry him. Only, he can’t bring himself to do it the conventional way.

The Morning - MonaThePoet M, 826

Summary: Brienne stirred first, following the first night she had ever laid with anyone.

New Dawn - miera M, 4k

Summary: What if Brienne woke up while Jaime was contemplating leaving Winterfell that night, and then the morning brought a new surprise for them both?

layers of tarnish - thebothsandneithers M, 7k

Summary: Brienne didn’t stop frowning at him. She had her hands braced against the doorframe, like she might need to physically bar him from entering.

Which she might. He wasn’t really supposed to show up at her house anymore. Apparently, a mobster prince knowing her address was bad for her health.

More than a night of passion - ChocoNut E, 2k

Summary: Jaime Lannister is no playboy. His reputation points to exactly the opposite. Nor is Brienne the type to jump into bed on impulse even if it involves the man she’s fancied for a while.

Rumors - ChocoNut E, 1k

Summary: Most rumours claimed he had fallen for the woman he had sacrificed his hand for. A handful insisted this was the doing of his loins, the frustration of not having been with a woman for this long.

Their speculation was he’d have his fill of her while it lasted before eventually returning to the one he loved.

take a chance on me - robotsdance T, 1k

Summary: Jaime is on his knees. Oathkeeper’s blade is under his chin. Brienne’s hand is steady.

Stay with me - justtrynawrite M, 1k

Summary: Jaime has a nightmare. Brienne helps him get over it.

Remember - ChocoNut T, 1k

Summary: Five times Brienne tries to jog Jaime's memory when he remembers nothing after the bricks collapse on him, and the one time she doesn't have to remind him.

Run away with me - ChocoNut E, 2k

Summary: Brienne struggles to change out of her hideous pink gown on their way back one night. Jaime steps in to assist her.

You are my knight - ChocoNut G, 2k

Summary: Hyle Hunt returns to Brienne’s life. Jaime obviously doesn't take it well.

Did I forget to post yesterday….yes! But it’s fine. If your here thanks so much would love to see you supporting future Masterlists as well!!!

[ilynpilled]

There are walls around this one higher than Winterfell’s.

“Fighting is better than this waiting,” Brienne said. “You don’t feel so helpless when you fight. You have a sword and a horse, sometimes an axe. When you’re armored it’s hard for anyone to hurt you.”

…yet somehow he could not reach her. It was as if she had an iron cage around her that stopped every blow.

The wench has built a fortress inside herself. They will rape her soon enough, but behind her walls they cannot touch her.

They will leave her a cripple too, but inside, where it does not show.

“You swore a solemn vow.” He smiled as a red flush crept up the thick white column of her neck. She turned her back to him. “Still the shy maiden? What is it that you think I haven’t seen?”

“I swore to keep you safe,” the wench said stubbornly. “I swore an oath.” Naked, she raised her hands to Jaime. “Ser. Please. If you would be so good.” The steel links parted like silk. “A sword,” Brienne begged, and there it was, scabbard, belt, and all.

She looked so miserable that Jaime almost found himself wanting to comfort her. Since that day Brienne had been like one half-dead. Even calling her “wench” failed to provoke any response. The strength is gone from her. The woman had dropped a rock on Robin Ryger, battled a bear with a tourney sword, bitten off Vargo Hoat’s ear, and fought Jaime to exhaustion … but she was broken now, done.

Jaime gave her a hard smile. “See, wench? We know each other too well.”

There were shields to be had for pennies, but Brienne rode past them. She meant to keep the heavy oaken shield Jaime had given her, the one he’d borne himself from Harrenhal to King’s Landing. A pine shield had its advantages. It was lighter, and therefore easier to bear, and the soft wood was more like to trap a foeman’s axe or sword. But oak gave more protection, if you were strong enough to bear its weight.

It wasn’t fair. She could not fight without her magic sword. Ser Jaime had given it to her. The thought of failing him as she had failed Lord Renly made her want to weep. “My sword. Please, I have to find my sword.”

This time she dreamed that she was home again, at Evenfall. Through the tall arched windows of her lord father’s hall she could see the sun just going down. I was safe here. I was safe. She was dressed in silk brocade, a quartered gown of blue and red decorated with golden suns and silver crescent moons. On another girl it might have been a pretty gown, but not on her. She was twelve, ungainly and uncomfortable, waiting to meet the young knight her father had arranged for her to marry, a boy six years her senior, sure to be a famous champion one day. She dreaded his arrival. Her bosom was too small, her hands and feet too big. Her hair kept sticking up, and there was a pimple nestled in the fold beside her nose. “He will bring a rose for you,” her father promised her, but a rose was no good, a rose could not keep her safe. It was a sword she wanted. Oathkeeper.

Someone had stripped her of her clothes and armor, she saw. She was clad in a brown woolen shift, thin but freshly washed. Her forearm had been splinted and bound up with linen, though. One side of her face felt wet and stiff. When she touched herself, she found some sort of damp poultice covering her cheek and jaw and ear.

The grey man touched her bandaged face. “We had to cut away some of the flesh. Your face will not be pretty, I fear.” It has never been pretty. “Scars, you mean?” […] Every knight has battle scars, Ser Goodwin had warned her, when she asked him to teach her the sword. Is that what you want, child? ”

Finally the doors opened, and her betrothed strode into her father’s hall. She tried to greet him as she had been instructed, only to have blood come pouring from her mouth. She had bitten her tongue off as she waited. She spat it at the young knight’s feet, and saw the disgust on his face. “Brienne the Beauty,” he said in a mocking tone. “I have seen sows more beautiful than you.” He tossed the rose in her face. As he walked away, the griffins on his cloak rippled and blurred and changed to lions. Jaime! she wanted to cry. Jaime, come back for me! But her tongue lay on the floor by the rose, drowned in blood.

“What are you doing here?” “Something stupid. Get behind me.” He circled toward her, putting himself between Brienne and the bear. “You get behind me. I have the sword.”

“I am grateful, but … you were well away. Why come back?” A dozen quips came to mind, each crueler than the one before, but Jaime only shrugged. “I dreamed of you,” he said.

“When she tried to talk she almost choked on her own tongue. I gave her a rose and told her it was all that she would ever have from me.” Connington glanced into the pit. “The bear was less hairy than that freak, I’ll—”Jaime’s golden hand cracked him across the mouth so hard the other knight went stumbling down the steps. His lantern fell and smashed, and the oil spread out, burning. “You are speaking of a highborn lady, ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne.” Connington edged away from the spreading flames on his hands and knees. “Brienne. If it please my lord.” He spat a glob of blood at Jaime’s foot. “Brienne the Beauty.”

“Take the sword and slay the Kingslayer, or be hanged for a betrayer. The sword or the noose, she says. Choose, she says. Choose.” Brienne remembered her dream, waiting in her father’s hall for the boy she was to marry. In the dream she had bitten off her tongue. My mouth was full of blood. She took a ragged breath and said, “I will not make that choice.”

Brienne sucked the air in desperately, even as the rope was strangling her. Nothing had ever hurt so much. She screamed a word.

Jaime scrambled to his feet. “My lady. I had not thought to see you again so soon.” Gods be good, she looks ten years older than when I saw her last. And what’s happened to her face? “That bandage … you’ve been wounded …” “A bite.” She touched the hilt of her sword, the sword that he had given her. Oathkeeper.

[irreplaceable-ecstasyy]

The Bitter Cold

For your Brienne request, how about something that takes place after Jammie left in season 8 with reader finding and comforting Brienne etc etc? - from @emilynissangtr

Wordcount: 2154

[Thank you for this one <3 I'm pretty sure quite a number of us have imagined jumping through the screen to comfort her. :( ]

The sound of hooves thundered in the winter silence, long enough to drown out the sobs of a woman for a moment until it was the only thing that filled the stiff air. Another heartbreak. You had seen it all before at the bar you used to work at, long before the wars, where men and women alike were either the victim or guilty of heartbreaks. Had you paid any less mind to the scene, you would have walked off to your quarters in peace but you found your feet planted to the ground. The man who had ridden off at this ungodly hour of the night had been Jaime Lannister. As for the heartbroken figure left to weep in the bitter snow, her tall frame was unmistakable. Ser Brienne of Tarth.

You had never seen her cry before nor had you seen an ounce of emotion from the woman other than her scowl. You were acquainted with her at most from the day she arrived at Winterfell with her squire for everyone had been called to train in the fields for the war. Some part of you had always been infatuated by her, mostly from the stories you had heard of the woman knight. Her bravery, her skills; she was an absolute daydream. Were it not for the war, she would have occupied her thoughts. You had seen her compassion and the raging fire in her eyes that you thought would be entirely impossible to snuff out. But here you were at her worst, the fire barely flickering in her tearful gaze.

Her sobs wracked through her and you could see how she shuddered so violently. Then it clicked that it may well be the cold biting into her skin. Anyone would be mad to wander into the snow with only a robe on, and madder to remain in the cold numb the pain of the heartache. Watching her was enough to make you feel like you were freezing under all your layers, and you were not heartless enough to leave her there. Tugging off your cloak, you hasted over to her and, in your best attempts, you tossed your cloak over her shoulders.

"You'll catch your death out here."

"Then leave me be. . ."

She refused to meet your gaze when you stared up at her. Her eyes were fixed on her feet to save herself the humiliation of tear-stained cheeks. Hide the evidence of this stupidity. Knotting the string of the cloak with a sense of finality, you took her by the arm with no room to argue. You were already walking.

"One man isn't the end of the world. Come on."

Reluctantly, she obeyed. For a woman so stoic, she still listened so easily. A soldier's instinct, perhaps. With Brienne trailing behind you, you ushered her back to her quarters quietly. You did not need anyone waking up with a hundred questions to pick at the woman's remaining sanity. The room greeted you with a dimming glow at the hearth and a pleasant warmth. At least you won't have much to fuss over. You sat the still-weeping knight on a chair in front of the fireplace and went to attend to the fire, feeding it with more timber. Her sniffling said enough that she was already calming down, much to your relief, or it may be because she had no more tears to weep. Did soldiers cry as regular folk would?

Too many questions.

You had the fire roaring once more and heat began to pool into the room, soaking you up in its comfort. Turning to Brienne, you were surprised that she had lifted her head to stare into the flames, unbothered by the tears that spilled from her cheeks. Now that she was away from the public eye, it did not hurt to lose what little dignity she had lost since the moment you saw her out there. With no napkin, you dried her tears away with your sleeves, cheeks cupped delicately within your hands.

She pushed your hands away when the tears finally stopped, but you were not ready to leave just yet. Getting comfortable on the carpet, you took a seat on the floor beside her. You could not find it in you to leave her by herself. The crackling of the flames was brought you and Brienne some sense of serenity, but it was prodding at the awkward tension in the air. Neither of you spoke, but from the way Brienne's exhaled heavily, there was something at the tip of her tongue.

"I... I fear he may never come back," she murmured under her breath.

"That's what happens in wars... People leave and we're left to pray," you answered. "Shouldn't we hope that they will return?"

Scoffing, Brienne casted her usual scowl at you. "It isn't just the war"- She considered her words carefully before settling angrily with, "What do you know of wars anyway?"

You shook you head dejectedly and turned away. "You're right. I know nothing, especially when I have nothing to lose. And I know Ser Jaime's gone back to his sister."

"That's where his heart lies. Who am I to take that away from her?"

"Queen Cersei is his family. You would return to your family in Tarth if you knew of the dangers that would be upon them, wouldn't you?" you tried to rationalize. "Have you no hope that he might come back at all?"

Brienne was often sensible but in her flurry of emotions, she could not bear to listen to your reasoning. Her cheeks were red, her stare intense as if she might explode at any moment. The tears had gone so quickly.

"The more you hope, the higher you expect, and the higher you go, the harder you fall. You'd be foolish to fall into such a trap," Brienne snapped, but her face fell. "I've lived on false hope before. Never again. I just can't..."

There was a part of you that wished you knew Brienne better. In one sitting, you were learning more about her than the few months you had been training under her command. The wall she had built around herself was to protect the little girl she once was, the girl who was never given the fair life of ladyship for how she looked. Stubborn as a mule. You wondered just how much she had to endure to become so numbed and yet so bottled up.

Comfort was not your strongest suit, let alone with a person you barely knew. Lending a listening ear seemed to be enough for Brienne took a breather to get a hold of herself. Tears threatened to spill again but you sat up on your knees to reach her, brushing them away with your thumbs. You did not miss the way she leaned into the contact and lingered there until you withdrew your hands. Your palms were burning.

"He's all I have," she managed in a hoarse whisper. All I have at love.

"That's a lie."

She rolled her eyes. "Spoken like a person who gets to choose."

"Enough." You stood up in front of her, but somehow she could still meet you at eye level when seated. You mustered your courage. "You give yourself a lot less credit than you deserve. If you managed to swoon Jaime Lannister, you might as well be unstoppable."

"And yet no one is willing to give me a chance like he did."

"It's their fault that their missing out."

"Missing out on what?" Brienne laughed pathetically. "A beast of a woman? A thing whose etiquette compares to a bear's? Humiliating me for everyone to see?!" She went on, and each addition to the list made your stomach twist painfully.

Unable to handle any more, you clamped a hand over her mouth, the other squeezing her own tightly. "They're missing out on someone who has so much give. As soon as someone gives a shit about the way you should look or behave because you're a woman, they're worthless. Who are they to define your worth because of how womanly you are?"

She stared at you with wide eyes and when you removed your hand, she was gaping at you. She wanted to argue against your rambling but not a word slipped from her lips. With pursed lips, she gripped your hand tightly, unsure of how to accept what had been a praise or more, acceptance. No one had ever raised their voice to express their praises. Most of the time, when a person yelled at her, it was either a command or a jeer. Brienne the Beauty. The thought of the nickname made her grimace.

You, on the other hand, were not nearly done yet. You dove head first into your thoughts and they were all coming out at full force, every bit of it a truth that Brienne needed to hear.

"That's what Ser Jaime saw in you. It's a miracle how you changed that dense lump of muscle but you did it anyway. He will come back for you when it's all over. Even if he doesn't, you will find someone who might appreciate you even more. So, if you still think me delusional for believing that people are missing out and that you won't get another chance, think again."

Her disbelief was clear but her hand stayed in yours. "You say such things... Things I wish were truer, but look at the state we live in. I don't need your pity to make me feel better, [Y/N]."

She remembered your name. It did wonders to your heart but you were too focused on your current objective. "I'm not saying this out of pity. I'm telling you everything that's been on my mind since I was told about you."

That knocked the wind out of her, humiliation settling in. "From who...?"

"It doesn't matter. What does is that I've wanted to say all these things to you because you deserve to hear it from someone. It's evident that no one has from the way you're reacting. So, there you go."

Working at a bar did not prepare you to comfort others but if there was one thing you were darn good at, it was telling people the truth in their faces. You told off drunken people who needed to be humbled, lifted those who were drinking their sorrows away and spouted facts that people needed to hear rather than what they wanted. Right now, you were doing the same for Brienne, whether she was willing to take it or not. There was not a confrontation that had ever gotten you as emotional as you were now, but that could only mean one thing. You were attached to her. You cared. There was no lie there for you.

Brienne saw the way you dropped your eyes to the floor, left with nothing more to say. Her silence did not help the case but what more was there to say when you had said everything? Even her sharp wit had no retort to defend herself. She mistook your conflict for defeat and it seemed as though she appeared ungrateful. With the hand she was still holding, she pulled you close and enveloped you in an embrace. Gentle words were not her strength either but a hug was well needed for the both of you which she delivered.

You rested your head upon hers and sighed softly. This would suffice. It meant you did something right since you were still here and not outside. Neither of you wanted to let go. Brienne had already gotten comfortable resting against you, her head tuck snugly against your chest while your arms were wrapped around her neck in a half cradle. This was... nice. Running your fingers through her hair, you spoke once more.

"I can't promise you that he will return but what I can give you is my company. My friendship. Even if you don't accept, there are still so many others around you who care for you. You are not alone," you reminded her firmly.

Shutting her eyes, Brienne nodded, her embrace tightening around you. "Thank you..."

You stayed there for what felt like hours but you could go on for days if you had to. The fire was already flickering and it pained you to part from the hug to replenish the firewood. Where her arms had been around your waist was burning hot from her touch, a sensation you had never felt before but it was not at all unpleasant. You basked in it while you could. It was too late to dwell any longer for the Knelt in front of the fireplace, Brienne rose from the chair to stand beside you while you did the work.

"Will you stay?" she whispered.

You felt your heart skipped a beat but you managed to muster a smile. "If my commander wishes."