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Blood In the Rivers: V

A/N: I know I said this would be out “soon” after the last chapter but I realized I hated everything I had written beforehand and had to redo everything. Thank you to everyone who has left likes, comments, and reblogged this little story of mine. You all deserve pretty things. Also, I know I said that this story would be about 8 chapters, but now it is looking like 10. I hate myself.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x F!Reader (Tully)

Rating: M for Attempted Sexual Assault and Murder -- please do not read if this upsets you

Word Count: 7.1k (again, I have no chill)

Read Chapters I-IV here! Or on Ao3!

Chapter Five: Pretty Words

A knock at her door had Y/N groaning. Every bit of her body felt heavy and she wanted nothing more than to pull the blankets up over her head and to forget that she was a person for another handful of hours. Sleep had evaded her for most of the night, leaving her tossing and turning as she mulled thoughts over in her head until she was sure she was losing her grip on reality. But Y/N’s buzzing mind, right before she finally slipped into a dreamless sleep, had come to the conclusion whatever happened with Oberyn and Ellaria had been beautiful and short and a game. A game she didn’t know she was playing. The Dornish Prince saw an opportunity to get under the Lannisters’ skin and took it. She could not blame him, but that did not mean it eased the ache of her heart. She had almost been in love, she was sure. Almost. And maybe, in time, she would be able to look back at those handful of days with a fond smile and delude herself into thinking she had been loved once.

The knock came again, louder and more insistent.

“Daisy?” The name was slurred on her tongue. It felt like her eyes had sealed themselves shut and she wiped a hand over her face as she sat up, knocking her mussed pillows to the floor. It was still dark in her room, the barest hints of sunlight had started to turn the dark sky into a hazy type of cerulean blue. Her still-sleeping mind took a moment to realize there was a hushed argument happening outside her door. Y/N slid off her bed on uneasy legs and pulled her dressing gown from her vanity before clumsily tying it about her waist. She slipped over to the door and moved the chair away before opening it.

Daisy and Daemon were standing steadfastly in front of her door, shielding it from two Lannister knights. The group turned as they heard the door open.

“Lady Tully. You are requested to appear before the King in the throne room at once-”

“She is indecent!” Daisy hissed. “You must give her time to ready herself.”

“Lady Tully-”

“She will be ready momentarily, Ser. Be patient.” Daisy quickly stepped into the room, pushing Y/N backward, before slamming the door shut. Anger colored her face a vibrant red and she marched up to one of the chests and yanked the top open and rifled through Y/N’s fine dresses until she pulled a dark blue one out. All the while, she was grumbling to herself about “stupid lions” and Y/N would have found it hilarious if she could blink without something aching. “We must get you dressed, my lady. I’m sure they’ll skewer Ser Daemon and knock down the door if we are not swift.”

She was soon dressed and once again looked like a respectable, high-born lady. “What do you suppose this is about?” Y/N asked as she slipped into her heeled boots. There was something dreadful twisting her stomach, like a premonition of some terrible deed not yet carried out.

Daisy shook her head as she started to lace them. “I do not know. But nothing good comes at this hour.” She stood as she finished and grasped Y/N’s hands. “But I shall stand behind you, whatever it is.”

Y/N smiled and reciprocated the squeeze before dropping their hold and straightening her shoulders. “Then let us go. To our doom or otherwise.”

Daisy nodded and opened the door. Daemon had continued to stand sentry between the chamber door and the Lannister guards and stepped forward only as the pair of women appeared behind him. “I shall lead them, Sers,” he bit out. The leather of his gloves creaked as his hold on the hilt of his sword tightened.

The Lannister men looked at each other and nodded tersely before turning and walking away toward the throne room. Y/N’s fingers curled around Daemon’s shoulder and squeezed in thanks before he led them out. The small group was quiet as they walked—quiet enough to hear the din of an assembled crowd as they neared the throne room.

“Be strong, my lady,” Daemon and Daisy whispered.

The doors opened and the murmurs grew in volume. Spectators thinly lined the walls as Tommen sat on the Iron Throne. Margaery was perched next to him on an ornate chair and their hands were clasped over the sharp spikes of the melted swords on the arm rest of the throne. Cersei and Tywin were seated on the raised dais, too. Each on their own chairs, emblazoned with roaring lions and red silk.

While Daemon and Daisy were forced to leave her side, Y/N continued down the center of the grand hall. She felt every single pair of eyes follow her steps. Sweat slicked her palms as she neared the dais but she refused to show any fear or sadness. She had cried enough for two lifetimes. If this was to be her fate, she would not whimper. Y/N curtseyed as she reached the edge of the dais and looked up at Tommen. “Your Grace. How may I be of service?” The doors to the Hall shut and it seemed to echo for ages.

Tommen, the sweet boy-king, looked like he was trying to fight a smile as he looked at her. “Lady Tully. I apologize for waking you at this hour. But I have come to learn some troubling news.”

“It seems your father has retaken Riverrun,” Tywin cut in. The Hand of the King pin near glistened in the torchlight over his heart. The most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms was staring at her.

“Is that so?” She hummed, ignoring her leaping heart. “I’m sure he won’t hold it for long.”

Tywin sat forward in his seat and stared at her. “Robb Stark is said to be within the castle’s walls.”

Something jubilant and dreadful all at once gripped her heart and whispers quickly slid through the crowd like a snake. “I was told Robb died at the Twins.”

“So was I.” The older man did not move his eyes from her face. “The time has come, Lady Tully, for you to show your true allegiance. You must marry—an ally to the Crown. Before you are to take your rightful place as the Lady of Riverrun, Protector of the Trident.”

The whispers grew, all the crowd’s words slithering together in a hiss in her ears. Her mouth went dry as if it had been stuffed with cloth—and now she could not stop her hands from shaking. When she would be married to Tywin, she would only be the Lady of Riverrun in name. She was sure she would never see its beautiful, red brick with creeping ivy. Never hear the roar of the rivers from her chambers. She would have her home—just out of reach. “My loyalty has never been in question before, my lord. But I…” she swallowed the hard lump in her throat. Tyrion and Jaime were standing off to the side of the throne, both wearing looks of pity and concern. “But I welcome any matches His Grace would find suitable.” This would be it, it seemed. She would be forced to accept Tywin’s formal proposal in this public setting and there would be no salvation this time. No careful words to avoid an answer. No being called away by a Tyrell in the last second.

“I have a suitable match,” Cersei said, pride oozing from every syllable.

Tommen nodded at his mother despite Margaery frowning. “I shall hear it.”

Cersei opened her smirking mouth and-

The door to the throne room burst open and a flood of orange and red and yellow quickly ran in, led by a panting Daemon-he must have dashed away right after delivering her to the Hall. Her heart seemed to want to crack through her chest when she spotted in Oberyn at the center of the Dornish crowd. He was dressed in his finery, a golden-red robe over a white tunic that sparkled with silver thread in the light. His sword was sheathed and slung at his waist with shining black leather. He looked every part the rogue prince of her childhood fairytales. He walked forward as the rest of his retinue bled into the crowd and she quickly looked forward once again.

“Prince Oberyn, good morning,” Tommen said, confusion coloring his tone.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Oberyn greeted, barely dipping his head in a bow. “It seems I have lost my invitation to the festivities.”

Both Tywin and Cersei straightened in their seats. It was Cersei who spoke first. “Hardly festivities, Prince Oberyn. Lady Tully was answering for her family’s crimes. If she is to truly be an ally-”

“She must take a suitable husband?” Oberyn finished with a smirk. “Such a strange way to show loyalty.”

“Your family would know that the best way to make allies is through marriage,” Tywin said.

Oberyn chuckled and slid closer. She could almost feel his familiar heat at her back but Y/N did not turn to face him. “Yes. I know my family’s storied history. We are proud. There is nothing in our past we are ashamed of. No deeds we leave to whispers.” Another step closer. “No secret rape and murders of women and children. No, in Dorne that is considered distasteful.”

Y/N knew exactly to what he was referring. And only Oberyn would be so bold as to accuse the Lannisters of ordering the murder of Elia and her children in front of such an audience. Her eyes flickered to Ser Gregor standing in the shadows. He smirked as if proud to be reminded of his own brutality.

“What is your point?” Tywin asked, attempting to sound bored—but the edge of his tone betrayed him.

Y/N sucked in a steadying breath as she felt Oberyn’s fingers trail across her back as he stepped forward to look directly at Tywin and she shivered, immediately hating herself for how her body betrayed her. He reached into his robes and there was a sudden clatter of armor—Kingsguard and Westerland knights alike both readied for a fight against the famed Red Viper of Dorne. Oberyn chuckled again and pulled out a single slip of parchment. “You see, Your Grace, in Dorne betrothals are festivities. Not interrogations. Certainly not made by the end of a sword. And Lady Tully is already claimed.”

Y/N felt her face crumple into a frown. She had never been promised to anyone. Hoster had never asked her to meet with any lords. Her father had never written her with word of an arrangement-

Cersei waved her hand and a Kingsguard snatched the parchment from him with a sneer and quickly handed it over to the queen regent. She unfurled it with a flourish and Y/N watched the color quickly drain from her face. “This is ridiculous.”

“What is it?” Tommen asked, reaching for the letter. He took it from his mother’s hands and read it. His sweet face furrowed for a moment before he let Margaery read it, too.

Was everyone to read it before her? But the small smile Margaery let play on her lips was a small comfort. At least, Y/N prayed it was.

Tywin was then handed the parchment and his thin lips pulled tight against his teeth. “You are her betrothed, Prince Oberyn?”

It felt like she’d been hit in the chest with a war hammer. Seven hells! What was happening?

“I am. What you have in your hands is an agreement between Prince Doran and Lord Brynden Tully.”

“Brynden Tully is a traitor to the Crown-”

“But, surely, my brother is not. He is currently housing Princess Myrcella. You would not leave your only daughter in the hands of a traitor.”

Cersei’s hands curled over the arms of her chair and her nails bit into the wood. “I would not.”

“Obviously, this was arranged prior to Lord Brynden’s turn. But my brother’s word holds true. Y/N is mine.”

“Did you know of this?” Tywin asked, turning to pin Y/N with his stare.

“N-no, my lord. I have never heard of this before this morning.” How simple she must look, claiming to not know she was betrothed. Was any of what Oberyn had said true? Had Doran and her father truly come to this arrangement prior to the War of the Five Kings? Or was this another one of his games?

“Curious, is it not, that you’ve just produced this agreement? Why have you not come forward sooner?” Tywin asked Oberyn, eyes not leaving Y/N’s face.

Oberyn smiled as if he wasn’t aware of the anger he was conjuring in the old lion. “I wanted to woo my wife before letting her know we were to be married.”

“Romantic,” Margaery cooed.

“I would have wooed you,” Tommen said to his queen, cheeks pink.

“I know, my love,” Margaery replied. “But now you do not have to.”

Cersei scoffed at the new queen’s breathy tone before she, too, focused on Y/N. “What good would this marriage bring?” Cersei asked. “What could possibly be gained?”

“Happiness,” Oberyn answered easily. “My family has known tragedy and my brother and Lord Brynden knew that.”

Y/N turned to look at him. He smiled so easily at her that her chest ached. He was so handsome—even when she knew him to be lying.

“You said it yourself. Marriage helps create alliances. Solidify them. Lady Tully’s hand in marriage was a hope of keeping Dorne, my family, from supporting the dragons or leaving the Seven Kingdoms entirely.”

Hurried whispers ripped through the congregated mass at the sound of Oberyn’s almost-threats.

“And this girl,” Tywin spat, “would keep Dorne appeased?” His cold eyes raked over her. “More than your vengeance?”

Oberyn’s smile widened. “Why should I not have both?”

Tommen, surprising almost everyone present, turned to Y/N before either man could continue their verbal volley. “Lady Tully, what say you?”

Y/N tried to steel herself and focus on the young king. His gentle face was so soft and kind and so ready for her true answer, it steadied her thundering heart. Could she truly see a way out from under Tywin Lannister’s gaze and intentions? But what of Oberyn? His intentions were not clear. “Your Grace, I live to better the Realm. If my marriage to Prince Oberyn may help bring peace, I happily accept this arrangement.”

“You realize, Lady Tully,” Cersei nearly hissed her name, “that if you become a Princess of Dorne, you cannot be the Lady of Riverrun. You would be forfeiting your home.”

And that actually struck a chord within her. Riverrun was her home. But the Lannisters had dangled it in front of her like a carrot on a stick and had promised it would be hers—but then turned and twisted, saying she’d be Lady of Casterly Rock, only regaining her home if she produced a son. Two sons.

Her father had found a home in the Vale, hundreds of leagues away from the red brick of Riverrun. And she was Brynden Tully’s daughter. She would not beggar herself for a life she did not want to appease someone. He did not settle for the Redwyne woman. She would not settle for Casterly Rock.

“I understand,” Y/N said, her shoulders back. “Let the Freys have it.” The words rung out in the hall. The decision was made. For all the Realms to hear.

Tommen nodded and glanced at Margaery who brought their joined hands to her mouth to press a kiss to his knuckles. He took the parchment back from his grandfather and handed it over to Jaime and it was quickly placed back in Oberyn’s hands and tucked away again. “Very well. Lady Tully, Prince Oberyn, I see no reason as to stand in your way. May the Seven bless your union.”

There was a sudden cheer from the back of the Hall and Y/N turned to see the Dornish clapping and hollering for their Prince. Oberyn turned to her and held out a hand. His smile was so large and happy that she could not stop her own, even if it didn’t feel right. She placed her hand in his and he dragged her close before holding their clasped hands into the air. The happy cheers only grew louder. Y/N glanced to the side to see Olenna Tyrell looking at her, a finger over her smiling lips. She nodded and then clapped, too, and the assorted Tyrell retinue at her back joined in.

The cheers echoed in the hall and in her chest, reverberating against her beating heart. And she wanted to cheer with them, to scream to the heavens in thanks that she would not be chained to Tywin Lannister. But, as Y/N looked at Oberyn and his proud smile, she was not entirely sure she had not traded one life of shackles for another. And she knew she would be shackled. No matter how freeing life in Dorne may be, she would be shackled with her feelings for him. Shackled to feel something that was not reciprocated.

Their hands eventually lowered and he pulled her closer and led her out of the hall. People congratulated him as they walked by and the morning sun soon started to warm her skin as they stepped outside. He raised their joined hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss against her fingers as they descended the steps of the Keep. “My bride.”

“Yes,” she answered, “your bride.”

His grip suddenly tightened on her hand and he pulled her to a stop with a frown. “My Tully?”

Y/N glanced at him only for a moment, unable to look into his dark eyes for more than that. “Yes, My Prince?”

He let out a short breath through his nose and once again pulled her along, down the rest of the steps and then into a small, shadowed corner of the Keep’s walls. “What ails you?” He asked, voice soft.

And maybe it was the heat of the moment, or the high of being free from the Lannisters, or the emotional exhaustion she’d been feeling for the past week, but it bubbled over as she pulled her hand from his and quickly crossed her arms over her chest. “You have left me alone for two weeks. No word as to why. I thought you’d finished with me. Had your pleasures and made a fool of me with your pretty words and then left me to the lions.” She took care to keep her voice low so as to not let any passersby hear. “And now I do not truly know if you are doing this in some way to steal what Tywin Lannister thought was his property or a pittance.” Her chin wobbled—strange, she thought she had drained herself of tears.

Oberyn stepped back as if she’d pushed him. “That is what you think of me? That I have used you for gain against Tywin Lannister?”

“You spoke so sweetly and then refused to meet my eye. I felt like an idiot to not have seen it. How else am I to perceive this?”

Oberyn stepped near again and raised his hands as if to grasp her face but she recoiled and his hands dropped to his sides and curled into fists. “I have always been clear in my intentions since the beginning, My Tully.” Slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his hands again and gently took her face into his grasp. His dark eyes bored into hers with such intensity that she shivered, thinking they could see her soul. “I have always wanted you. I will want you until this world goes grey and the waters rise to wipe the earth clean.”

“But you-”

“I never meant to cause you heartache, My Tully. There are plots at work that I could not trouble you with—I would not put you in danger.” His smile was small and sad but he did not pull away from her. “I feared they would somehow break you and spoil everything.”

Y/N felt her face twisting in anger before she could stop it. She was tired, confused, and angry. Insulted. She pushed his hands away and once again folded her arms across her chest, ignoring how her sleeves brushed against his robes, how she could feel the heat of his skin. “Prince Oberyn, it was me who planned to save Sansa. It was me who knew to send her to Dorne. It was me who knew how to lie and plot and twist words to survive in this wretched city. And now you think to tell me that I cannot be told of your plan? If you do not trust me, simply say so. I can learn to live with that. But, I beg you, do not think of me as something easily broken.” The words sounded like a lie on her tongue. He had broken a little bit of her when he had left her in the dark. Whatever plan he had made, plot he had conjured, he hadn’t deemed her worthy of knowing. And that was what hurt the most. She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. “I shall be our wife. I will do my duties as a wife—but I will not force you to-to try to love me but I ask that you, at least, respect me enough-”

Oberyn grasped her arms and tugged her close. Berry-sweetened breath slid across her skin and hazed her mind. “No one can force me to do anything. If I did not want you as my wife, I simply would have smuggled you out of King’s Landing at nightfall and let you be, far away from the Lannisters who would use you for your name and what is between your legs. But I want you as my wife for my own reasons; your soft heart and fierce devotion to those you deem worthy of your affection. And I will have you.”

Y/N found herself twisting handfuls of his robe, not knowing when she had reached out, her fingers betraying her in the need to touch him.

“The gods could not take you from me.” He leaned ever closer. “But I shall win your heart again.” Oberyn said it so fiercely that she was almost scared. He hadn’t shouted. Hadn’t yelled. His voice was a calm, intense whisper that she felt in her bones. But her heartache and anger warred with her want of him and kept her quiet as he leaned into her and pressed a kiss to her throat, his facial hair scratching at her skin. Her traitorous heart leapt and sped its beat as he sighed against her throat. “You shall be my equal in every way. A Princess of Dorne.”

And she liked the sound of that. She did. But her heart still ached and burned and raged. Her hands that had found purchase in his robes gently pushed him back. “More pretty words.” Y/N curtseyed and ignored how his hands curled into fists again and walked around him and back into the Keep.

“My lady, Ellaria is here,” Daisy said as Y/N continued to collect her small trinkets from her vanity and place them into one of the open chests. The rest of her clothing and valuables were already folded and stacked, ready to be taken to the Dornish caravan in the next morning. The only items left unpacked were a dress that she would wear tomorrow and one of her smaller blades which she’d kept under her pillow, unwilling to pack it all away just yet. It was small, the sharp edge no larger than her palm, and the handle was inlaid with black and red gems and topped with a small silver trout. It had been a gift from her father for her ten-and-five nameday. (A silly gift that had Hoster scrunching his face in anger before he gave her a dress from the finest seamstress in the Riverlands.)

Today would be her last full day in King’s Landing before she left for Sunspear with the rest of the Dornish retinue at first light.

Y/N sighed and nodded. “Let her in.” She placed her last bottle of ink on a roll of leather before folding it and placing it beside her rolls of parchment and shutting the lid of the small chest. The remaining gold dragons inside jostled.

Daisy nodded and pulled the door open and Ellaria stepped in. Her daffodil-colored dress dipped so low in the front it left her belly button exposed to the air and her dark hair was twisted back with a golden pin shaped like a spear. A scarf of orange gossamer stitched with golden suns was draped over her shoulders. Y/N hated how her heart leapt when she looked at her. Still so lovely. Perhaps this would be easier if she had been hideous. But no, Y/N knew she had come to revel in Ellaria’s words and gentle heart—not just her beautiful face and body.

Daisy busied herself with continuing to pack away Y/N’s things as Ellaria closed the distance between them. She wordlessly reached out to Y/N and they sat on the edge of her featherbed. “You have a quiet sort of anger in your heart, My Tully.”

Y/N didn’t say anything but did not pull her hands from Ellaria’s hold.

“Oberyn only meant to shield you from-”

“He shouldn’t need to shield me from anything.” Y/N sighed. Her anger had settled into her bones. Ever present, but not on the surface. “And you knew, too. Of course you knew. The Prince trusts you implicitly.”

“There are greater things at work here, My Tully.”

“And I am just a pawn, I understand that. I do. But I would like to know what game I am playing.”

Ellaria chuckled. “You are going to make a fine Princess of Dorne.” She released her hands before trailing a finger down her neck and delighting in the shiver it coaxed out. “We will not apologize for trying to protect you. But we will do all can to have your heart in our grasp, again, just as you have ours.” Ellaria’s fingers slid down to her chest, pressing over her heart and smiling as she felt it beat. Then, she reached up to hook her finger around Y/N’s chin and turned her head and let her breath slide across her skin before she slowly, carefully, continued forward and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s lips. It was chaste and soft and still had Y/N’s poor heart leaping. And with the way Ellaria smiled against her mouth, she had felt it, too.

“That’s not fair,” Y/N mumbled. “You can’t kiss me like that.”

Ellaria pressed another kiss to Y/N’s cheek with a growing smile. “I don’t fight fair,” she whispered against her skin, uncaring of Daisy still going about her duties on the other side of the room. “I will do whatever is necessary to see you smile again.” She then stole yet another kiss against her cheek before she stood. She made her way to the door but stopped and turned back to look at Y/N as she sat on the bed, unmoving. “I will not rend any more tears from you, My Tully.” Her smile was soft and Y/N had to look away in fear she’d lose her resolve.

She wanted to forgive them. Let them gather her close and bask in their attentions again. But they’d hurt her, distrusted her—and she was still not completely sure that this was not a game for them.

The door clicked closed as Ellaria let herself out and Daisy, who had been folding the same dress over and over again in an attempt to look busy, quickly turned to her lady. “She’s quite a confusing one, isn’t she?”

Y/N sighed and waved Daisy over. Her handmaiden took her seat and Y/N basically collapsed into her hold. There were no tears. Not anymore. Just a hollow kind of ache that she could feel all the way down to her toes. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Daisy hummed her assent. “I’ve put all my pretty things in a chest and Ser Daemon took it down for me this morning.”

Y/N chuckled. “Ah yes, Ser Daemon. Your dashing knight.” But it was still happy news that Daisy had jumped at the invitation to come to Dorne. Not that Y/N would ever leave her alone in King’s Landing.

“He isn’t my dashing anything, My Lady.” But Y/N could basically hear the blush and smile in her voice. “He is simply…”

“Simply,” Y/N played along, “who makes you smile? Warms your bed?”

“My lady!”

Y/N turned and looked up at Daisy with a small smile. “He makes you happy. It is not a sin to admit that. Happiness is…precious. Revel in it. Your heart has had its fill of grief.”

“You’re allowed to be happy, too, my lady.” Daisy started to comfortingly rub at her shoulder. “Do not deprive yourself of it.”

Y/N sighed but said nothing, head turning so she could look at the single rose that had arrived this morning, delivered by smiling Daemon. A poem had had been attached to it, just a handful of lines in smudged ink. It was beautiful, she supposed. Filled with words comparing her skin to petals.

More pretty words.

“I think you might be the only friend I have in the world, Daisy.”

“And I will be here beside you until you tire of me.”

“I could never tire of you.”

The pair sat there for a few stretched moments. It was the calmest Y/N had felt in weeks. A new chapter in her life was dawning. Dorne waited. It was not the story she had wanted or expected. But it was the one the gods deemed necessary. She would see Sansa again—that was a silver lining. And then, after she had her new title of Princess of Dorne, perhaps she could lead some sort of inquest into finding Arya. She could keep her mind busy and heart focused on family.

Maybe, if the gods willed it, she would take Cersei’s advice to heart. She would only love her children.

Would they have her hair? Oberyn’s dark eyes? His wit? Her inability to know when she’s been beaten? In a perfect world, her children would know nothing of her conflict or heartbreak. They would only know love.

A knock at her chamber door broke her reverie and Daisy squeezed her shoulder before answering it. Ella, the Tyrell girl, was on the other side and flanked by two handmaidens. “Queen Margaery has requested that you sup with her and Lady Olenna before you leave for Sunspear, Lady Tully. If you are agreeable.” Ella smiled.

Y/N rose and righted her skirts before nodding. “I’d be happy to.” She turned to Daisy. “Take the rest of the night to ready yourself for tomorrow. I’m sure I will need you every step of the way.”

Daisy nodded and excused herself, slipping by Daemon at the door with a smile that had the Tyrell handmaidens tittering.

“Please,” Y/N said to Ella, “lead the way.”

Margaery and Olenna were waiting at a large table in the main room, filled with berries and roasted carrots, wine, chicken smothered in gravy, and lemon cakes piled so high she thought they might collapse if she breathed near them. The meal shared was pleasant and, for once, not filled with plots or schemes or double meanings. Simply food shared between friends, if that is what they could be called. Eventually, they finished and Margaery drew Y/N into a hug. “You have been very good to my family, Lady Tully. I will not forget it.”

Y/N smiled, knowing that was a powerful promise. “Yes, well, I am always at your disposal, Your Grace.” She curtseyed and then turned to Olenna. “You as well, Lady Olenna. I wish you safe and swift travels back to Highgarden.”

Olenna stepped to her side and gently touched Y/N’s face. “You are going to be just fine, Little Fish. I promise you.”

Eventually, Ella and another handmaiden led Y/N back to her chambers and she bid them goodnight. It was getting late. She poked her head out of the door to look at her guards—Daemon and his usual comrade had been switched with another pair she did not recognize for the night. (There was a sneaking suspicion that Daemon kept volunteering to be Y/N’s guard to be nearer to Daisy as his was the only face she recognized.) “Sers, may I send for something for you to drink? Eat? I apologize that you have the final guard before the return to Dorne.”

Both of them shook their heads. “It is an honor to protect you, Lady Tully.”

Y/N sighed but pressed a smile to her face and thanked them both before closing the door and readying herself for bed. Her gut churned and she knew it wasn’t from the food. Before long travels, her nerves were always tightly wound. Ever since she was a little girl and was told she was being sent from the Vale to Riverrun, it felt like she swallowed a mouthful of pebbles, and the feeling returned every time she knew she would be on the road for longer than a handful of hours. The fact that she was to be married when this trip was completed was surely adding to her jumbled mess of emotions. She sat at her small vanity and dipped a cloth into the basin of water and dragged it across her cheeks and neck, removing the dust of the day.

The sound of scraping metal echoed in the hall.

Y/N stood and felt her heart leap into her throat. That terrible sound. She knew it too well.

She turned and slipped her hand under her pillow to curl around the small dagger. She crept toward the door and pressed her ear to the wood. The metal sound came again. Closer this time. Then again.

And again.

“Move aside.” Gregor’s voice was cold.

Y/N heard her guards unsheathe their swords. “No.”

There was a sudden metallic clash on the other side of the door—loud and jarring. She imagined swords clashing—only for a moment—before she heard the unmistakable gurgle of a man choking on his own blood. The bloodied end of a greatsword was thrust through the meat of the door and nearly had her toppling to the floor, clutching a bloody cheek. Blood dripped onto her dress from the sword in uneven drops.

She knew what was coming and tried to ready herself, calm herself for the coming storm. Hurried breaths slowed to careful pulls of air and curled fists relaxed as she hid her blade away in the hidden pocket of her long, bell sleeve.

The sword was wrenched back and the door thrust open and there stood Gregor Clegane, framed by the low light of the torches in the hall. He looked like a demon as she stared up at him, sneering and covered in blood. The bodies of her nameless guards were at his feet, both nearly hacked in two.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Tully.” His voice was low and sounded like gravel had imbedded itself in his throat. Gregor had left only his greaves and sabatons of his armor on and his sweat-stained tunic hung loosely about his barreled-chest—and even in her panicked mind, she knew she’d never see him more vulnerable. “You’re all mine now. Mine. Your pretty prince won’t want you anymore after I’ve had you. I’ll put a bastard in your belly.”

Y/N knew she needed to be smart. Knew she’d never be able to overpower him or beat him back. And he had just made it abundantly clear what his goal was. His meaty hands grabbed at her arms and hauled her close, his putrid breath nearly making her wretch.

“Not going to scream for me?” He asked with a jeer.

“No. That Dornish Prince is a vile snake. I will bear him no children. I would rather have a bastard of yours than a trueborn brat of his.” It felt like wildfire had been poured down her throat. And she just hoped it was what he wanted to hear as she tilted her head up like a woman of her status. “Let him know who took me first, Ser Gregor.”

His tongue hung out of his mouth and he licked his chops like a slobbering dog before he bent and licked a stripe up her neck. “All of the Seven Kingdoms will know.” He picked her up as if she weight no more than a babe and threw her onto her featherbed and quickly climbed over her, thighs as large as tree trunks bracketing her own. “I’ve always liked virgins. I like how they bleed.”

He bit at her shoulder and she suppressed a shudder and the bile she felt rising in her throat. She just needed him a little more relaxed.

“Will you bleed for me?”

His paw of a hand grasped at her breasts and pressed them down into her ribs and she bit at her lips to keep the scream at bay. Instead, she pushed out a soft moan and threw her arms around his neck.

“You’re already moaning like a whore.” He laughed. It sounded unnatural. “All you highborn ladies always moan. Except for that bitch Elia when I stuffed her full.” Calloused hands started to pull at her skirts as he continued to bite at her skin. He reached down to wrench her legs apart and move between them. “But she screamed so pretty when I grabbed her head and squeezed.”

Y/N’s heart clenched. He had admitted to murdering Elia Martell. All the rumors of how the princess’ final moments transpired had been for naught—a messy cover up.

His hips started to rut against hers and another wave of nausea rolled her stomach when she felt the press of his prick against her thighs. She delved into her sleeve and curled her fingers around the hilt of her dagger and braced. Just as he reached her underclothes, she sank the entire blade into the side of his throat and then yanked it forward, splitting open his neck. Warm crimson sprayed over her in a wave and soaked her through. “Bleed for me,” she said and his blood filled her mouth.

Gregor’s mouth opened and closed, spitting more blood onto her face. Even as his life flowed freely and quickly from the unstoppable wound, he reared back and smacked her across the face. Black dots spotted her vision instantly as a ringing muffled her ears. He moved to hit her again and Y/N rolled out from under him and off the bed. Her knees smacked against the stone floor and she scrambled to her feet and turned to see The Mountain pressing his hands to his throat, face twisted in a pale rage. He took a step toward her…then another.

Then collapsed.

Unmoving.

The door to her chambers burst open and she spun and held her dagger out, prepared to fight again.

“My Tully!” Oberyn was holding a spear out and ready but it quickly hung slack as his dark eyes took her in. Soaked in blood from the top of her head to edge of her skirts and with her cut cheek already swelling from The Mountain’s slap, she looked like she had clawed her way out of each of the Seven Hells. More Dornish guards and knights, Daemon included, followed their prince into her chambers. Swords brandished and shields at the ready.

Her grip on her dagger started to shake and it fell from her grasp, throwing small droplets of blood across the stone.

Daemon and another knight sheathed their swords and pushed over the body of Gregor, showing his face. “She’s killed The Mountain,” one of them whispered.

Oberyn dropped his spear and took a step closer to her and reached out slowly, keeping her shaking hands steady. His dark eyes searched hers, uncaring of the blood that caked her. “Breathe, My Tully. Breathe.” Carefully, he pulled one of her hands to his chest and took a breath. “Feel my heart. Breathe with me.” And his heart was a steady thrum under his warm skin and Y/N felt the tension leach from her shoulders even as her fingers continued to shake, smearing his skin with crimson. “There we go, My Tully. Breathe. It is over.”

Y/N nodded. The air tasted wrong as she pulled in a steadying breath. It took her a moment to realize that she was still tasting blood—hers or Gregor’s, she did not know. “He admitted it, my prince. He admitted to killing Princess Elia.”

Oberyn’s face dropped. “You heard him?”

She nodded and felt her lip tremble. “He-he came in and he…”

The prince wrapped her in his arms and held her tight. “You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. Not to me,” he whispered in her ear.

“But I do. I do have to tell you. I had to pretend to want it, to want him.”

“Did he touch you?” Oberyn’s voice was ice and she burrowed closer to his chest.

“He tried. I opened his throat before he could.”

His grip tightened over her and she shut her eyes as she noticed the room continuing to fill with more people—more guards, more knights, the Kingsguard were filing in. All of them were talking about how The Mountain was dead, how she was covered in blood, how there were two dead Dornishmen at the door. All of it was swirling together into a terrible scream in her ears. She wanted to disappear into Oberyn’s hold. “You gave me something I have yearned and ached for.” Oberyn said quietly, barely heard over the din of the conversation around them.

Y/N’s brow pinched as she looked up at him. “My prince, I have given you nothing-”

“Revenge, My Tully. You have killed the man who killed my dear sister, Elia, and her children. You had him confess it.” His smile was small but still tugged at her heart. “But I am sorry it came at such a cost to you. You do not deserve such brutality.”

Y/N managed to smile despite the throbbing pain that she just noticed stemming from her injured cheek. “I am glad I was able to ease your heart’s burden, my prince.” Her words were true despite the anger she still felt.

Oberyn did not release his hold. “No one will ever touch you again. Not while there is air in my lungs.”

A/N: The next chapter will finally see our Tully to Dorne, along with a few familiar faces. Please let me know what you think!

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @roxypeanut @lostinwonderland314 @fandomreblogsnoshame

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x ellaria sand x reader #game of thrones imagine #oberyn martell

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the-jade-cross · 3 years

Text

Knight of the Forest - Chapter III

“It’s not fair!” Margaery screeched, throwing her arms up in a tantrum as she stomped her foot angrily, ignoring Garlan who was trying desperately to calm his sister down but couldn’t get close due to not wanting to be swatted by her flailing arms. “I hate father! I HATE HIM!”

Willas sighed from where he was confined to the seat. After being crippled from the waist down a few years prior at a joust, he was unable to move from room to room without the assistance of Garlan or even teenage Loras who would assist him by use of his wheeled chair.

“Margaery, calm down,” he said firmly.

Margaery slapped Garlan’s soothing hands away from her and flipped her hair out of her face angrily, “Five years ago father sent Maya away because “her powers were attracting unwanted attention” and now he is sending Lillia away!”

“It was not entirely father’s doing,” Willas pointed out. “Lady Arryn was the one who finalized the decision to send Lillia to Kings Landing.”

“But Father was the one who ratted to Lady Arryn!” Margaery pouted, spitting as she yelled angrily. “He told her that Lillia wasn’t a “perfect lady” and you can rely on Lady Arryn to imagine since her imagination is so broad! Sure, Lillia is not the fine lady who walks around in gowns all day long, talking about stitching and husbands! Sure, she is better at hand-to-hand battle axe combat than any of our knights and sure she is not the best at sewing but that does not give father the right to talk trash about her and then suggest that she leave for Kings Landing!”

“You know she has a point,” Garlan pointed out to his brother. “Father does have a habit of feeding the lambs to the lions. But at least Lillia will have Evelyn there. She just recently moved there with Sansa and Arya when she was wed to Jaime Lannister.”

“I still cannot believe that her father agreed to that marriage,” Margaery huffed. “But that is beside the point and nevertheless, Evelyn left Kings Landing. Didn’t you hear?”

Both brothers frowned and shook their heads. “After Ned Stark was killed by Joffrey, Arya ran away and shortly afterwards, Evelyn disappeared. No one knows if she is dead or if she managed to escape the clutches of Cersei Lannister. Sansa is still stuck there poor thing.”

“Well then at least Lillia will have Sansa even if she was better friends with Evelyn.” Garlan soothed.

“Hey… as anyone seen Loras?” Willas inquired.

When Lillia finally located Loras, she wasn’t sure what she was going to say to him. She had been living with the Tyrell family for almost six years now and needless to say, her little crush on the youngest Tyrell had grown into something that Lillia knew was more than a crush… possibly even more than love. However, the only inclination that Loras gave her was that she was a friend in his eyes. Not once had he ever shown an interest in her other than his sword partner and playmate.

That was just how teenagers were right? The girls were the ones to fall in love with the one guy who was completely oblivious and thought nothing of her other than a friend. This was what was running through Lillia’s head as she gently knocked on Loras’s bedroom door.

When she got no answer, she assumed he must be asleep and hoping to possibly leave a note on his bed before leaving, she cracked the door open. That was when she realized her mistake. Loras was not asleep but rather sitting up on the edge of his bed, his front to her but his body bent so far in half that she couldn’t see his expression. His knees were pulled up, arms crossed over the caps of his knees and his head pressed into his arms.

“Loras?” Lillia whispered, watching as light from the hallway flooded the pitch-dark bedroom.

The boy’s head snapped up, obviously not having realized her presence or possibly even her previous knocking. Lillia took a full step back in shock at the expression on Loras’s face. His usually rosy freckled cheeks were stained with red lines from hot tears, his bright golden eyes were puffy from extensive crying. His unmistakably slender lips were puffy and trembling as more tears continued to flood his eyes but now, he was more shocked and embarrassed at the predicament that Lillia found him in to continue crying.

“I’m sorry…” the girl stammered, realizing that she had just invaded his privacy.

She stepped back through the door and moved to close it when she muttered to herself. “I am disgusting.”

Of all times to be thoughtless and barge into Loras’s bedroom was when he really needed privacy. Not only had she invaded his private den but also embarrassed him by finding him in that state.

As she closed the door behind her, she missed the confused and evidently hurt look on Loras’s face… unaware that only the last part of her muttering had reached Loras’s ears, making it sound like she had said: “Disgusting”.

Flashback End

"And Loras did not say goodbye?" Tommen asked.

Lillia shook her head, "For the past 3 years I have been corresponding with Margaery, Willas and Garlan but Loras has never answered a single one of my letters. I do not know what happened but... by leaving, I broke whatever it was that we had."

The young boy nodded, resting his plump chin in his hands as he thoughtfully stared out of the bedroom that Lillia had occupied for almost three years. "Maybe he was sad that you were leaving and thinks that it would be better to forget you. I mean, if I was really close with someone and the chances of me seeing them again were near to none, I would try to distance myself not only to protect my feelings but theirs."

"But that's the thing," Lillia sighed. "If he is trying to protect my feelings, he is doing splendidly because my feelings cannot get any more hurt."

Tommen smiled sadly at the girl who had become like a second sister to him since Myrcella had left for Dorne. "Well, since my uncle Stannis has died... and Margaery is coming to marry Joffrey... who knows, perhaps you can see him again."

Lillia nodded, "If the rumors about him aren't true..."

"What rumors?" the boy inquired.

"That he prefers men."

*********

“Ser Jaime!” Lillia called as she rushed into the blacksmith shop just outside the manor. “Bron said you wanted to see me.”

Jaime lifted his head from where he had been bent over the blacksmith table, trying to draw something with his left hand. He smiled at the girl before holding up what he had sketched ot the blacksmith.

“Do you think you could make that?” he asked the burly man, “out of this?”

Jaime placed a small block of metal on the table and both Lillia and the blacksmith gawked in shock.

“Valerian!?” the blacksmith gawked, “Where did you come by that Ser?”

“My father gifted me a valerian sword and the remaining metal from it,” Jaime explained before looking at Lillia.

“I need to talk to you about something,” the man whispered to her, “Come with me.”

Lillia followed the man into the back of the blacksmith shop before he began to pace back and forth.

“This will probably sound absolutely ridiculous to you but…” Jaime started, stroking his shaven face thoughtfully, “How do I put this?”

Lillia chuckled, “Ser Jaime, my childhood best friend can manipulate water and the boy I love since forever is actually into men so… very little sounds strange to me,” she assured him.

Jaime sighed, thinking over the best way to explain himself to Lillia, “Do you ever… have an instance where you see something that is so real, you think it could be real but its…” he started, only for Lillia to finish.

“Just a dream?” Lilli asked. Yeah, totally crazy in the eyes of someone who receives visions of three girls in the bodies of fire, water and wind. Totally crazy.

“Not dreams but…. Glimpses… visions,” Jaime replied, stopping his pacing, “I saw a vision of a golden dragon… small… but I felt like I knew it somehow and right aver the vision cleared, this picture… this idea kept appearing in my mind like a memory aching to be set free… to be remembered. The picture made no sense to me but I could do nothing but see to it that whatever the picture represented… saw the light.”

Lillia raised her eyebrows and had to blow a puff of air to get rid of a blond curl that had fell in her eyes. “Why did you tell me all of this Ser Jaime? Where did you get the idea that this was connected to me…. and how do you know I wont speak of this to others and then you’ll look like a psycho?”

Jaime strode over to the petite girl and grasped her shoulders, “Because when that picture appeared in my head… your face kept flashing before my eyes…. As if it were you telling me to do this.”

This definitely intrigued the girl who tilted her head to the side inquisitively, “What was the picture you saw Ser Jaime if you do not mind my asking?”

Jaime sighed, “A necklace… but… it was almost more of a second skin than a necklace… almost engraved into the skin, it was so delicate and intricate… and yet so deadly and simple. A twisting vine, wrapped around your neck with leaves of metal fanning out from the vine, standing against your skin… and… for a moment it almost looked like the leaves were real.”

Lillia frowned, “Why do you say that?”

“Because I could have sworn I saw the leaves move,” Jaime whispered.

The girl’s eyes widened and her face almost paled as a confused look crossed her round, rosy face.

“That is impossible…” she muttered. “Only land… and earth feeding life will be summoned… wait…. Ser Jaime,” She declared, breaking out of her mumbling. “Is metal a form of earth?”

Jaime furrowed his brow before he shrugged, “It is a type of stone I believe… an ore… why?”

The girl was out the door in a split second before the man could even blink, wondering what could have been so urgent as to require the girl’s hasty departure. Meanwhile, Lillia came sprinting into her room, checking under the bed, in the closet and even behind the curtains to make sure she was alone before locking her bedroom door. Rushing to the flower pots she had placed on her bedroom balcony with special plants for specific reasons, she plucked twenty petals each from the lotus, copal, anemone and rosemary. Plants before rushing back into her room, closing the balcony door as she went. Now completely alone, Lillia carefully sprinkled the petals on the floor in four individual sections before planting herself amongst the rosemary petals. She was just about o begin when she remembered something she had learnt the last time, the hard way. Rushing to a nearby flower pot, she scooped a few handfuls of soil before sprinkling the dirt amongst the rosemary. Dusting off her hands and looking at her preparations with satisfaction, she stood back over the rosemary and shut her eyes, breathing in deeply. She tried to picture it… the petals floating into the air of their own accord… moving with purpose… slowly she cracked her eyes open and she saw that it was happening. The petals were suspended in the air! First the First the copal petals burst into flames and the unmistakable tall but slender figure with short hair and glowing red eyes appeared. Next the lotus petals began to drip water like a perspiring brow in the heat of summer before a second figure came to light, the features made clear by the texture of the water’s shape, depicting long ringlets and a love face shrouded by a mask. Last but not least, the anemone petals began to spiral out of control, blowing around in a circle like a torpedo ripping through the land before it burst into an array of air and petals and what was left was a petite, short haired, calm faced girl made of air. Lillia grinned.

“You all made it!” She chirped.

“You caught me at a good time,” The water figure of Maya stated, “I was bored out of my mind!”

Lillia smirked before looking at Evelyn’s fiery burning, stoic figure, “Eve, if I have to lie about you to Ser Jaime one more time, I may have to renounce my elemental claim on this joining.”

Evelyn shook her head, “He cannot know Lils. Especially when I am under the training of Brisingr.”

“How is that going?” Nanteza’s airy figure inquired. “I have to watch my cousins cracking whips at dead men’s heads all day long.”

“It is well,” Evelyn replied calmly.

“He is harsh, firm but a good teacher and if I want to tap into the deep fire within me, I need to understand which elements represent what parts of me.”

“You’re lucky,” maya sighed. “You get to go on adventures while I am locked up here like a wild circus beast, having to hide behind chainmail and masks to keep people away from me.”

“I told you,” Lillia pointed out. “I can come visit.”

“Like hell!” Nanteza cried, interrupting Evelyn and Maya who were about to say the same. “That is no place for your Arryn.”

Lillia stuck out her lip in a pout before she remembered why she had summoned the pinnacle of life in the first place.

“Listen… do any of you remember that prophecy we saw… next to the one about us?”

“Oh the one on bonds?” Maya inquired. “Yeah… erm… four souls shall bind their hearts and minds to those of their beloved but the bond shared shall not be with their mate of the soul but with their spirit’s kindred.”

“Did any of us even figure out what that meant?” Nanteza inquired.

“yes,” Evelyn answered. “It is about our soulmates… for me it is Jaime… stating how our minds, souls and hearts will be bound with our soulmate but the “bond” will be shared with our spirit’s kindred… kindred spirits… like best friends.”

“So… like our soulmates will have a best friend in one of us?” Maya asked. “Why did you ask Lillia?”

Lillia shrugged, “Just that… Ser Jaime told me today of a vision he had of a gold dragon… and after the vision, he had this thought … or feeling to have something made from valerian steel and said that I was a part of the picture he saw…”

“Then you must be Jaime’s spirit’s kindred,’ Maya pointed out, “I wouldn’t be surprised if that makes Loras your soulmate considering that he and I are close siblings.”

“Oh shut up!” Lillia grumbled. “besides, he’s into men.”

Nanteza, Maya and Evelyn shared a knowing look before they one by one disappeared and all that was left were. Pile of petals. Lillia looked down at the petals beneath her feet and wasn’t surprised to find that in their place were twenty little rosemary blossoms.

“Yet again. I need to figure out how to prevent that!”

Due to her dropping soil on the floor, the rosemary hadn’t taken root in the floor like last time but the soil so Lillia easily transplanted them and cleaned up the mess. A few hours later, a package appeared outside her door and when she opened the wrapping, there lay a necklace of pure valerian steel, a twisting vine with fanning leaves.

“Now… to learn how to move metal!”

#Loras tyrell #loras #Loras Tyrell x oc #Loras Tyrell x reader #game of thrones #got #Jaime Lannister

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intrepidmare · 4 years

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JAIME x BRIENNE FIC EXCHANGE RECOMMENDATIONS

Well, I have read about half of the fics in the @jaime-brienne-fic-exchange and these are my favorites so far. Seriously, guys, if you haven't read any of these stories already, you must! It's incredible how much talent is in this fandom.

PS: I don't know/couldn't find everyone's Tumblr, either because they have a different username than on ao3 or don't have a blog here. If you recognize someone else's or your own work that I didn't @, please let me know and I'll edit it 😊

Let me begin with the fics with a love that transcends time and death.

(The first is the story that was written for me!! Please, guys, go, read it, and give some love to the extremely talented writer that came up with it! Words fail me to explain how amazing this fic is. Go read it and then you'll thank me for the rec.)

This is where we start again by @forbiddenfantasies1

Explicit | chapters 8/8 | 40.7k words | past life au, modern setting, canon compliant

Brienne and Jaime had never met, but when they come together to work on a new project, they realize their connection may have been generations in the making.

Or in which Jaime and Brienne meet, begin having flashbacks to their ancestors lives, and are forced to figure out where they went wrong before they can determine how to make it right.

This life and the next by atomsandfairies

Teen and up | chapters 6/6 | 8.2k words | historical setting, modern au

“Do you ever wonder how old our souls are? How many times we have missed and met? How many times we have come together?”

The questions have turned themselves over in her again and again, as long as they’ve been together, before he’s asked, before they’d even found each other.

There is a familiarity between them that seems too old for their time together.

Angstfest addicts, these are for you. Get ready to get beaten with feels. Don't worry, despite heartbreak along the way, all ends well.

My honor in your hands by @aviss

General | one-shot | 2.8k words | hurt/comfort, missing scene, book canon

Jaime lasts the better part of a day before the silence gets to him.

By hearts and hands made fast by anonymous

Mature | chapters 4/? | 10.1k words | 8x04 canon divergence, secret marriage

»But he’d held her wrist even then, thumb stroking, Marry me, he’d said, marry me and never acknowledge it if you do not wish, but marry me as I should have married you that night and every other. If I’m to die, he’d said (with her, he had not), let me die as your husband.«

A grand romantic gesture has repercussions neither Jaime nor Brienne had foreseen.

Lies in the darkness by aleighcarlisle

Mature | one-shot | 4.4k words | angst, hurt/comfort

"Hurt me with the truth, but never comfort me with a lie."

Man With a heartbeat by @sigilbroken

Explicit | chapters 5/5 | 25.5k words | modern au

Angst is not your cup of tea? No problem. You should try the following. Only laughter, happy feelings ahead.

This one last thing by @aliveanddrunkonsunlight

Mature | One-shot | 13.3k words | Canon compliant, Post-ADWD, bed-sharing

Most tasks needed of a knight, he has been able to adapt to with only one hand, but he struggles with striking flint in order to start a fire. It would be easier if she was here.

Jaime and Brienne journey to the Vale.

What loves you back by @bookishpower

Teen and up | one-shot | 11k words | fairytale-ish, post-canon

A retelling, and a continuation. Jaime learns the great lesson of his life.

That Would Be Enough by forpeaches (bluecarrots)

Mature | One-shot | 2.2k words | Canon compliant, Post-ADWD

Jaime, pining.

The unwitting third wheel by @nightreaderenigma (I should've known this was you!)

Mature | chapters 4/4 | 17.8 k words | post-ADWD, canon compliant

Whilst recovering on the Quiet Isle, Podrick develops a crush on his mentor and heroine, Lady Brienne. The only hiccup in his bubble of infatuation is their new travelling companion – Ser Jaime Lannister. Because even though M’Lady Ser and the Golden Knight argue, there seems to be a bond between them he can’t quite place…

Warm by @angel-deux-writes

Teen and up | one-shot | 13.5k words | canon divergence

Before the battle against the dead, Jaime volunteers for a routine patrol with Brienne to try and get some time to talk with her about why she has been avoiding him since he arrived at Winterfell. When a storm catches them unexpectedly when they're still far from the castle, they find a cave to hole up in for the night.

Way enough by laihiriel

Mature | chapters 3/5 | 10.8k words | modern setting, sports au

Brienne had forgotten how much she loved being out on the water. Joining the local boathouse and sitting in a scull again after her accident was the best thing she could have done for herself.

Because of you (i took my time to come around) by Weboury

Teen and up | chapters 4/4 | 14.7k words | Modern setting, road trip, bed-sharing

Jaime, curator at the Tully Museum, wants to spend more time with Brienne, and maybe finally work around telling her how he feels about her. When Brienne, a historian, is tasked with retrieving the legendary sword Widow’s Wail from King’s Landing, Jaime thinks it’s the perfect time to put a plan in motion, only to find himself with Brienne and his cousin Cleos on an awkward road trip across the Riverlands. And then a goat shows up.

Kaleidoscope sky by allison_wonderland

General | one-shot | 1k | modern au, carnivals

A terrible day, an unexpected stop, and drifting closer together.

Backpfeifengesicht by @samirant

Explicit | one-shot | 18.8 k words | modern au, enemies to friends to lovers

Backpfeifengesicht

(German) n. a face badly in need of a fist

See pictured: Jaime Lannister.

Brienne, Jaime and the Accidental marriage by @angel-deux-writes

Teen and up | One-shot | 10k words | modern setting, reporter au

Best friends, co-workers, and roommates Brienne and Jaime were supposed to head to Greywater Watch to cover a local festival for the newspaper at which they both work. They were NOT supposed to get married while they were there.

Those who seek to find by @ice-connoisseur

Teen and up | one-shot | 22.3k words | Jumanji au

But anyway, that was how it started: Arya found the game, and Sansa rolled the dice.

When you play the game of Jumanji, you win or you die.

In better light by winterkill

Mature | one-shot | 17.7k words | canon divergence, post-ASOS

Perhaps Cersei was right, and every ounce of sense and bravery Jaime possessed was lost with his hand. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor. He really said that to her? Brienne latched onto the sentiment like a hunting hound to the scent of its quarry.

Before dawn, Jaime rises from his bed, wide awake and with a sense of renewed purpose.

I’m going to go with her.

If you're looking for adventures a little outside of the law, check these out

Codename: kingslayer by libkat

Mature | one-shot | 2.4k words | modern au, thief au

The world's greatest jewel thief is after his biggest score when he encounters his toughest opponent, who might also be the love of his life.

The Knight and the thief By @ddagent (this is the only one I guessed the author right. I knew it was you, Kelly)

Teen and up | one-shot | 3.6k words | Modern au, burglar au, hurt/comfort

Jaime Lannister is rich, handsome – and a jewel thief. His next target is the home of Brienne Tarth, where he might finally find something worth stealing.

Last but not least, for those who like to hang out with creatures of the night, this one is for you

Into the spider's web by @jailynnW

Teen and up | one-shot | 4.5k words | vampire au

Jaime has been a Vampire for centuries, dancing in and out of the grasp of his hunter. Brienne is tasked with taking down the Kingslayer. A mission that brings her more than she bargained for...

Hmm, it doesn't look bad that I'm going to do shameless self-promotion now that I've recommended the work of others, right? You know what? I don't care if it does. So here it is the one I wrote 😊

Made for you by me (Mare9548 on Ao3)

Teen and up | chapters 4/4 | 9.6k words | modern setting, arranged marriage

Despite his reluctance to get married, Jaime Lannister is having dinner with his future wife tonight. Quite a surprise he gets when he meets the woman that his father has chosen for him.

I'll come back later with more recs once I've gone through the rest of the amazing stories in the collection.

More recs

#fanfic recommendation #braime #jaime x brienne fic exchange #braime fic

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writingthrones · 5 years

Text

the northern dragon- part 8.

PART 8: HOMECOMING.

TAGS: @psychosupernatural , @xleviiiix , @ashtronomyyyy , @starkbelova,@5aftermidnight , @makapaka11 , @mxxkscreate-write , @scorpiosmalfoy,@harrison-shot-first , @art-flirt , @jessyballet , @vaexvictis ,@callmeconceited , @cassiopeia-barrow , @the-three-eyed-ravenclaw , @iirelynn , @aspiring-fangirls-world , @emmaelizabeth2014 @dyanna-corona , @donttellany1iusetumbler , @whatwhyc-c , @moadvx , @simplyfandomish , @daenerysstuff , @coltonparayyko (feel free to shoot me a message if you’d also like to be tagged!)

DESCRIPTION: the world thought that just 2 dragons survived, that house targaryen was missing its third head. but there was another– the youngest, the final child of the mad king and queen rhaella. of course, she was almost part of the near extermination of her house. but the honorable ned stark, unable to watch a babe be murdered for crimes she did not commit, rescued her from an awful fate. instead, she grew up amongst wolves within the walls of winterfell.

NOTES: giving y’all what you’ve been asking for ;)

WARNINGS: angst, violence and brief threats of implied sexual assault as well as a brief description of a panic attack, also another kind of steamy scene.

“I’m not here for you, Robb Stark. I’m here for her.”

What was he talking about? Here for you? Why? Maybe he wished to drive a sword through your back like he had your father. He probably regretted not doing it when he figured out who you were. But just like Robb said, why would he come here on his own? Why didn’t he just spread the truth across the Seven Kingdoms and have his father advance on them? It just didn’t make any sense.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near her,” Robb said as he stepped forward and in front of you. It was a sweet gesture but you pushed him lightly aside. You would not cower behind him. “What do you think you’re doing here?” you questioned. “I see you’re not hiding anymore,” the dirtied knight said. “The confidence suits you much better,” he then added. Well, this was quite confusing and so you furrowed your brow. “At any rate, I think this conversation is better had in private,” he said casually. And to that, Robb chuckled humorlessly. “You’re mad,” he said through a huff, shaking his head.

But you stepped even further forward. “So be it,” you said. You could feel Robb’s shocked gaze on the back of your head but you didn’t care. Whatever he had planned, you wanted to know about. “Could you escort us to somewhere more private?” you questioned the guards who held him. “Y/N, you can’t--” Robb protested. “I can handle myself,” you said curtly, your gaze never leaving Jaime’s. “I need to know what’s going on.” The men nodded and began to move down the hallway. Ah, the perks of being a queen. Before you could follow, Robb tugged on your hand and so you finally broke your stare and turned to look back at him. “I know what I’m doing,” you said softly. “I know...” he sighed. “Just.. be careful.” So you nodded. Of course you would.. at least mostly. You planned to figure out just what was going on no matter what.

Finally, you caught up and entered a small, quiet room. The men released their grip on Jaime but, of course, left him in his chains. He could use them to strangle you if he really wanted to-- but you had a feeling that wasn’t the case. “What is it you’re doing here?” you asked sternly. “So he made you a queen,” he said-- completely disregarding your question-- and smirked. He stared at you for a long time without saying anything and it made you uncomfortable. “I’ll ask again-- what is it you’re doing here?” your tone conveyed your frustration. “Well..” his voice trailed off. “Now what can I call you, my lady?” he asked with a smirk. “--It should be Your Grace, if you must,” you shot back through gritted teeth. “And my name is Y/N.” He titled his head with curiosity and when he spoke again, his tone was suddenly very serious. “No. What is it your mother called you?” It took you off guard. Why had his tone shifted so suddenly? There was no reason for you to oblige him, but you did anyway. You felt compelled to do so. “...Visenya. But my name is Y/N,” you insisted.

“Visenya,” he repeated, nodding his head. “Call me Y/N,” you shot back. “I’d rather call you what Rhaella intended,” he replied, all traces of smugness having left his voice. This was quite odd. “Fine. Will you tell me what you’ve come here for now?” Another long pause-- it was driving you crazy. You began to clench your fists without even realizing. Clearly he noticed and it made him chuckle ever so slightly. “No reason to get yourself worked up. It’s not at all what you think.” Another pause. Why was he doing this? It was driving you mad. “I’ve come to pledge my fealty, Visenya. My sword is yours.” Immediately, you gasped.

MEANWHILE, IN KING’S LANDING.

An emergency small council meeting was being called-- one that King Joffrey was, shockingly, attending. Although, that was in large part because he was being forced by his grandfather. It was a very important matter, one even the boy needed to be informed about. The whispers about another, some say more legitimate, claim to the throne were growing louder and something needed to be done about it.

“I trust we all know what we’ve come to discuss,” Tywin began. Joffrey immediately went to open his mouth, like always, but was cut off before he could get even a single syllable out. “It has been practically confirmed that a Targaryen girl lives-- and she has become Robb Stark’s queen. We have reason to believe she may have played a large role in his escape at the Twins. Some say she may have been the one to kill Roose Bolton,” he said with an annoyed sigh. “So we send someone to kill her,” the golden-haired boy quickly responded before he could be cut off again. “We kick that damned wolf while he’s down. He’s lost half his army, take away another queen and he’ll give up his ridiculous crusade for revenge,” he then added. Tywin sighed, “Don’t think he’ll be so easily fooled, Your Grace. I shouldn’t have to remind you that he hadn’t lost a battle until then. They’ll be on high alert. There’s no way we’ll get within miles of her.” The king sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest with a huff.

“Anyways.. she may be a northern queen now but how long will it be before she sets her sights south? We’ve already heard whispers of those possibly supporting her claim.” His tone was growing more and more frustrated. Tywin did awful things in order to make sure something like this would never happen. He thought that the Targaryen reign was over, that they’d all been crushed. But now here was this girl, a daughter of the Mad King himself no less, and people were ready to support her. In a way, he understood. Tywin was no fool-- he knew how the people felt about his grandson but he would not give up his family’s position on that throne. As far as he was concerned, the Lannisters were always meant for that seat and they were finally here. So something must be done, but it certainly wouldn’t be as simple as Joffrey seemed to believe.

"If I may..” Lord Varys spoke up. “We know she is in the Riverlands now, correct? I know who to contact. It is possible that we could poison the girl and be done with it,” he stated so matter-of-factly.” Tywin nodded in his direction. “A good plan-- one we should keep in mind. However, I believe I have a better one,” his gaze then turned back to Joffrey. “Your uncle is still out there. We know that he has escaped and we have heard spottings of him. If we can make contact with him, I believe he will be the perfect man for the task. Lord Varys, we will use your contact to speak with him.” It was a good thing Cersei wasn’t there-- she would surely protest, say that Jaime needed to come home. And Tywin definitely did not want to risk his son but if anyone could slay a Targaryen, it was him.

BACK TO Y/N’S POV.

Indigo eyes were wide with shock. Jaime Lannister-- wishing to guard you, the daughter of the man he murdered when we has sworn to protect him too? This must be a joke. It even caused you to let out a humorless laugh, which got a frustrated expression from the blonde-haired knight. “I didn’t realize I was so funny,” he said, tone flat. “Well you can’t really expect me to believe that you wish to protect me, do you? You killed my father. And I am no fool, I know who he was. But I also know who you are and I know you’d drive a sword through my back as soon as you could.” You hadn’t realized, but you had your fists clenched tight throughout your whole little speech. “Now tell me, why would I march right back here if my intention was to just kill you? You know that I could’ve that night I escaped and yet I didn’t. I could’ve killed you and been done with it.. but I didn’t. And besides, I kill you now and those men rush in and slit my throat.” His gaze was turned towards the small window in the door. “And I rather enjoy living.” There was that familiar Lannister sarcasm.

Your thoughts were racing so fast you couldn’t keep up with any of them. But you put on a stoic face and let out a deep breath. “I... I need to think on this,” you replied. Were you actually considering this? It sounded ridiculous and yet.. something was compelling you to believe him. The way he became so serious when it came to your name, your mother.. he completely let down those walls and showed just a hint of vulnerability. “As you wish,” he nodded. And he was being patient with you? This was all so strange. Another deep breath and you left the room, instructing the men outside to hold him in a cell wherever they may be in the castle, with guards posted. After all that was said and the fact that he had come here after escaping before, you didn’t expect another escape but you could never be too careful.

You hurried back to your chambers with Robb, hearing as the men escorted Jaime from the room. “I look forward to your visit, Visenya,” he called out to you. It made you inhale sharply, totally caught off guard. Without turning around, you continued to walk towards your room.

When you entered, you found Robb sitting on the edge of the bed, anxiously waiting for your return. He quickly stood up, taking your face into both of his hands and seemingly inspecting you, presumably to see if Jaime had inflicted any harm on you. When he saw nothing, he took you into his arms in a tight embrace. It made you smile and you held him just as tight. When the two of you broke apart, his expression was questioning. “Why did he want to see you alone?” he quickly asked. Mouth hanging open, you struggled to find the words to say. “He said.. he wishes to pledge his fealty and act as my Queensguard.” Robb looked astonished, “He’s mad! After all he’s done to your family, he has absolutely no right saying such a thing.”

Nodding, you took a seat on the bed, bowing your head for a few moments before looking up at him. “I want to believe him,” you said softly. His brow furrowed. “Why?” He had begun to raise his voice, causing you to recoil slightly. It made him sigh, leaning down close to you and taking your hands into his own. “He’s a Lannister, Y/N. There’s no way you can trust him.. I can’t trust him. If I lost you, I...” His voice had begun to shake at that point which made you squeeze his hands. “Trust me then. Trust that I know what I’m doing. There’s just.. something about all this that makes me want to believe him. Why would he come back all this way if his intentions weren’t true? It doesn’t make sense.” Your thoughts were overwhelming you and you were beginning to panic, heart rate increasing and breaths becoming shorter and more frequent. Your husband quickly sat next to you, wrapping his arms around you to hold you in a tight embrace. It took a few minutes but the feeling finally subsided and he broke away to look at you. “Let’s get some rest, yeah? We’ll talk about everything in the morning when our minds are clear.” You nodded and the two of you drifted off into slumber.

When you awoke the morning, the spot where Robb had been was empty. You sat up with a great sigh, assuming that he must be with his advisors, planning their next move. It’d been more than enough time since the Red Wedding, as they were calling it, and they needed to continue onward. But you couldn’t help but to think that it wasn’t the ideal move and you planned to let him know. You didn’t want to see him make another grave mistake. The army had taken a huge hit, they couldn’t afford another. So you had to put aside this mess with Jaime for a bit.

After dressing yourself, you made your way through the castle before finally finding where Robb and his advisors had assembled. Without a second thought, you strolled into the room where suddenly all eyes were on you. “My lords,” you said politely, bowing your head to them. “Your Grace,” they all responded. Robb was immediately beaming, though his expression did seem slightly confused. You found your place next to him, looking down at the map with all its pieces on it. “So what are these plans you all have?” You questioned, looking back up to see nothing but puzzled expressions. “Your Grace, if I may--” Lord Karstark was looking at Robb now. “I don’t intend to sit aside, keep my mouth shut and look pretty at Robb’s side,” you say, indigo eyes piercing through him. “I meant it when I said I’d be fighting alongside you all. I have armor being made as we speak. And as your queen, I think I deserve to be a part of these meetings.” Your confidence never faltered and from the corner of your eye, you could see Robb’s smirking face. “Well you heard her,” he finally chimed in. Looking over at him, you shot him a warm smile. The bond between the two of you was truly beautiful.

Basically, their plan was to march to Riverrun where the rest of the forces had convened, merge together and continue their advance Southward. You understood their desire to continue on their mission but you weren’t so sure it was the best move. So you made another proposal and pushed hard on it. To you, it seemed like the more wise move and you wouldn’t let them speak over you. Your idea was to meet with the rest of their remaining forces but instead move back up North. You hadn’t heard any news out of Winterfell since it had been taken after Theon’s betrayal. Then there was the business of Roose Bolton’s bastard supposedly taking control of the North as declared by the crown. Without a tight grip on the North, what was Robb even king of? After some heated debating, they came to understand your argument. When all was said in done, you could see that same look of pride in Robb’s eyes. You truly were a queen of the people, a warrior who would give her last breath to fight for what was yours.

So it had become settled then. Rather than continue down to King’s Landing, the Northern army led by their King and Queen would march back to their homeland to regain control and their strength. Within a week, you would begin on the long journey. Before you could leave, though, you were gifted the armor that had been promised to you by the armorer in Seagard. Robb said he had another important meeting and regretted not being able to come, but that you should go on anyways. Of course you knew it was being made, but you had a feeling that he had done something that would take you by surprise. And that he had.

The young man had put the pieces on a display in order to show you each and every detail that had gone into it. He had spent countless hours on it, making sure that it was nothing short of perfect for his queen and letting you know that the king had made some special requests. You felt a lump in your throat as you looked at them. Pressed into each shoulder piece was a three-headed dragon, the sigil of your house. And on the chest piece, an entirely new symbol where the dragon meets the wolf. He didn’t want you to be ashamed of who you were and it had you in tears. After thanking the man, you had the armor hauled off into a trunk.

Finally, there was this business with Jaime Lannister. You had put it off for long enough, something needed to be done whether that was taking him as a prisoner once again or accepting his offer. Lately, your mind had been leaning towards the latter. Walking through the courtyard full of men preparing for the journey, you continued into the castle and descended downward where he was being held. The room was dark and you were handed a torch in order to see. When you entered the room, he looked even worse than he had when he arrived if that was even possible. He squinted as he looked up at you. After taking a deep breath, you spoke first.

“Tell me why I should believe you. You broke your oath before, how can I trust you not to do it again?” You did your best not to let your expression give anything away. “You said you knew who your father was then you should know why I did what I did. I don’t believe you would do anything of the sort,” he said, tone so different than the Jaime you’d known until now. Before you could find the words to say, he had spoken up again. “You look just like her, you know? You move the way she did, speak how she did. But then there’s this.. fire. You’re a dragon through and through,” he smiled his usual smirk, though his words did sound genuine. Taking a deep breath, you almost couldn’t believe what you were saying. “I accept your offer, Jaime Lannister. You will be Lord Commander of my Queensguard.” Well, the only member of your Queensguard but that wasn’t important right now. He looked truly shocked-- clearly he didn’t expect you to be able to believe him. It made you slightly nervous, as if he was shocked that his scheme worked. You would have to keep an eye on him, watching as he proves himself.

Jaime bowed his head, “I will protect you with my life.” He really just didn’t sound like the Jaime that everyone knew. His words sounded so genuine. Without another word, you exited the cell. “We plan to leave soon. Please see to it that Ser Jaime is bathed and dressed and prepared for the journey.” From the corner of your eye as you walked past, you could see the shock on their faces. “But Your Grace--” they protested. “Quickly, please,” you replied over your shoulder. You took one last trip to your quarters to put a custom-made breastplate that went over your heavy gown fashioned for the long ride. Much like the armor, Robb had a three headed dragon pressed into the leather of the piece that covered your sternum. Then, you pulled on your cloak made with wolf’s fur. The Northern Dragon.

You entered the courtyard where you began helping in the effort to prepare but the men insisted that it was handled and the queen did not need to concern herself with it. It made you roll your eyes but there was no point in trying to argue. As you turned, you spotted Robb, who you immediately jogged over to, grinning. Even in all the chaos, you couldn’t help but feel those butterflies every time you saw him. But Robb’s expression was not so happy.

“You had him freed,” he said. “I accepted his offer, yes,” you replied. Before he could say anything else you needed to add, “I told you to trust me.” He sighed, “Yes, but these men will never trust a Lannister-- least of all him. Especially as a Queensguard. I don’t know about this, Y/N.” You sighed. He was right, this move could make things worse-- but you were a queen and you should be able to do as you please. The people should trust that you know what you’re doing. “They should trust me too,” you replied. He simply nodded, though he was still visibly nervous.

Finally all ready, you pulled yourself up onto your house up at the front, next to Robb. You then watched as Jaime walked out, clean with his beard trimmed down, dressed in Northern armor. It was a far cry from the gaudy armor he had worn as part of King Robert’s Kingsguard. The men around you started to grumble and you turned to face them before they could begin yelling. “My lords, I understand your worries and frustrations but I ask that you all trust me in this. Ser Jaime will be serving as my Queensguard.” The mens’ faces were stern, but you could see the anger in their eyes. They simply turned away and kicked their horses into action.

It was a bit of an awkward ride, with you being between Robb and Jaime. Not much was said but then again these rides weren’t typically filled with small talk. It was just after sundown when you all finally came to a stop and set up camp for the night. Robb immediately went to meet with his advisors while you decided to let yourself into Jaime’s tent. There was plenty for the two of you to talk about.

It seemed as though he was preparing himself for sleep when you came in. “I didn’t mean to intrude..” you said quietly. “Don’t worry about it,” he replied, offering what you could’ve sworn was a smile. You walked over and perched yourself on the very edge of the bed, still not feeling comfortable around him-- understandably so. He continued to stand but turned to face you. “Did you need something?” he questioned. “I need to know why you did this. You took an oath and I want to know that it’s not all a trick,” you replied, a certain vulnerability in your voice that you just couldn’t hide. “If you couldn’t be sure of my intentions, why did you agree?” He was right. Why did you do that? Something compelled you to believe him, but you couldn’t say that. “You.. kept talking about my mother. About how I look like her or sound like her.. and you wanted to know the name she gave me. I don’t know, I suppose it made me believe that you care,” you said, your voice beginning to shake. You hated that. It was strength that you needed to project but you were.. scared. He leaned down in front of you, eyes looking deeply into yours. There was this look that you couldn’t quite decipher. “I don’t regret what I did to your father.” His words were harsh but you couldn’t blame him. “But I do regret not being able to protect your mother. From Aerys and all the rest. So I believe I owe it to her to keep you safe,” he then added, the seriousness of his tone never wavering. “Besides, I’m the best man for the job if I do say so myself,” he said as he stood back up, back to his regular sarcastic voice. “Even your husband couldn’t protect you as well as I-- don’t tell him I said that. Or do, I suppose.” This time you were positive that he flashed you a smirk. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling in response.

You laid in bed that night feeling much better about the situation. Sure, you still felt uneasy about the way the men looked at you now but you were confident in your choice. If they trusted you as a queen, they would understand why you did what you did. Jaime would prove himself in due time, you were sure of it. But you hoped that they did not begin to resent you.. a Targaryen working with a Lannister, two enemies of the North, to them it must’ve been a recipe for disaster. But you knew that Robb trusted that you knew what you were doing and surely that’d be enough for them, right?

The next few weeks were hard. The looks you were given were unmistakably angry and skeptical but you managed to hold your head high. You still attended most of the meetings where you all discussed the plan of action. Finally, it had been decided that the army would round up all who could still fight and first attack the Dreadfort. From there, it would be on to Winterfell. The logic being that taking the Boltons’ house seat would significantly weaken not only the literal army itself but also the morale. It would insure that the retrieval of Winterfell would go as smoothly as possible. You all still weren’t quite sure how Theon factored into all this but rumors were that he had killed Bran and Rickon and both you and Robb would make sure that he suffered, though neither of you wanted to believe that it could be true. But that could then take care of the rebellion of the Iron Islands.

Your arrival upon the Bolton stronghold took just under a month of heavy riding. The army settled at a safe distance beyond the walls, making your intimidating appearance known but not putting yourselves in a spot to be stormed without warning. There were many lookouts posted and many men slept battle-ready. After an adequate night’s sleep, it was time. This was the siege of the Dreadfort, where the army of those loyal to house Bolton were lead by the twisted and cruel Ramsay Snow. Though not legitimized, he was the only male heir left of Roose’s.

You and Robb helped each other into your armor. It was the first time you had worn yours and he stepped back, looking at you in absolute awe. “I love you,” he said, sounding nearly breathless. “I love you too,” you replied, pulling him into a kiss with a smirk on your lips. When the two of you broke apart, he held your face in his hands and pressed his forehead to yours. “I know that you know what you’re doing just.. I need you to return to me. I’m lost without you, I--” His words made your heart ache, so you cut him off. “I will. We’re going to win this, okay?” He let out a deep breath before letting you go then nodded. “I’m going to stay close to you but if we get separated just..” His voice trailed off and all he could do was come up with a sad smile. You nodded back at him, understanding what he was trying to say.

The two of your left your tent and within no time, Jaime was at your side, looking shocked by your attire. You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on your lips. “So we’re doing this together then?” he questioned. “That we are,” you responded.

THIRD PERSON POV.

Jaime was left in awe of the Targaryen girl. The armor that had been adorned with her house sigil fit her like a glove. It reminded him of Rheagar and he hoped that she had the same skill that he did. But then there was those silvery locks pulled back into one long braid, like that of a Northern woman. But she was no wolf, he thought to himself. He finally turned his gaze away from the young woman and set his attention on the task at hand. Above all, he would keep her safe but he would make sure that they took the place for their own. Her goals were now his as well. But he also had plans of his own that he planned to reveal in due time.

Robb’s army marched forward and the eager Ramsay opened the gates for them. He was confident in his forces, sure that they were not only able to defeat the men in combat but that their brutal methods would make those remaining run in fear. He would finish what his father should have and flay the so called King in the North alive. His Targaryen would queen would be next. Or maybe, he’d make the Stark boy watch as he cut her up before moving on to him. The thought of it made him grin with sick pleasure.

Charging in, Robb’s army began to clash with Bolton forces. Men on each side were being struck down as casualties began to stack up, they seemed fairly even. It wouldn’t be an easy victory for either side.

BACK TO Y/N’S POV.

As what would be expected, at a certain point you did become separated from Robb. Both of you were being put into tough spots and the only logical move was to separate. Though it made you nervous to not know where he was and if he was okay, you knew that he was a more than capable warrior. What was even more shocking was that you had become separated from Jaime. He had taken an oath to protect you but now he was nowhere to be found. It made you wonder if it had just happened naturally or if he had deserted or even worse, he had been continuing to work with his family all along. But you couldn’t concern yourself with those thoughts right now, losing your focus for even a second could mean certain death. You just had to believe that Jaime was somewhere fighting to get back to you.

You were cutting down Bolton loyalists left and right, letting out a grunt now and again. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins and your anger had you seeing red. It was amazing the way you managed to dodge every swipe and stab. You had left an entire hallway of bodies in your wake when you turned a corner and got stormed by a man who used his forearm to slam you into the wall, knocking all the air out of your lungs. “The Targaryen bitch,” he said with a smirk. “I can’t wait to see the reward Ramsay is going to give me for you,” he kept going, face coming close to yours. You clenched your jaw, attempting to wriggle yourself away but his force on you was strong. “Though I’d love to take a little reward for myself right now..” Of course you knew what he was implying but before he could smash his disgusting lips onto yours, you spit directly into his face. It caught him off guard and caused him to stumble back. “You bitch!” He screamed and readied himself to slam you again, surely in a way that would leave you unconscious. But you moved more quickly than him and buried the sword deep into his chest, panting as you watched the life drain from his eyes and felt as the warm blood covered your hand. Forcefully, you pulled it out and watched as he dropped to the floor.

You took off down the halls, somehow never running into another soldier. You finally made your way out into the courtyard where a few infantrymen were fighting each other but in the center, you spotted Robb and Ramsay battling it out. Each of them was landing hits on the other, leaving both bloodied. One wrong move and Robb could be dead. But you could turn the tides by rushing Ramsay from behind, so that’s what you did. Unfortunately, the force with which you shoved him wasn’t enough to send him falling into the snow. Instead, he turned quickly on his head and clashed his sword with your own.

Before you knew it, there was strong arm around your waist, hot breath on your neck and the cold steel of a blade pressed against the delicate skin of your throat. You had made the wrong move and now you would die for it. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, readying yourself for death. When you opened them, you were met with the horrified stare of Robb and you did your best to smile at him but you were unable to hold back the tears. Your breath was shaky as you mouthed the words, “I love you.”

“It seems we are at an impasse, my king,” Ramsay finally spoke mockingly. He then spoke directly into your ear, “I hear you’re the one who killed my father.” His tone was angry.. at first, then it quickly turned into delight. “You have actually done me a great favor, you know?” He chuckled and in response, you tried to break free of his grip and he only chuckled some more. “Lets not make this more difficult than it needs to be.” You could see Robb clenching his jaw and certainly thinking up his words carefully. “You aren’t going to win this, Ramsay, hand her over and I shall grant you mercy,” he barked. “Oh I wouldn’t be so sure there. You’ve lost many men.. even your father’s ward has betrayed you. And now I hold your queen’s life in my hands.. I don’t think this is much of an even playing field.” His delightful tone never faltered and it sent a shiver down your spine. Robb opened his mouth to speak but before he could get anything out, the bastard cut him off.

“So here is what I propose.. you surrender, tell your men to stand down and I spare her life,” he began. “Don’t!” you cried out. You would much rather die than Robb give up all that he had built. The freedom of the North was much more important than your life. Ramsay pressed the blade closer to your neck and you could feel it begin to break the skin and just a drop dripped down. “The men are speaking, darling,” he said, still speaking in that carefree voice. “I was also thinking that I could.. take her off your hands.” His words made you gasp. “Absolutely n--” Robb started. “You want her to live, don’t you? Well those are my terms, young wolf. What do you say?” You may not have been able to see his face, but you could feel the smirk in his voice. He clasped his hand over your mouth and nose, instantly sending you into a panic. “I said, the men are speaking,” For the first time, he sounded annoyed. “Well?” he asked. Just as Robb opened his mouth, a crossbow bolt wizzed past your head, directly through Ramsay’s skull. In seconds, his body fell to the floor and you rushed into Robb’s arms, the two of you holding each other in a tight embrace. You looked up though, wondering who was the culprit.

Up on the walls you saw none other than Jaime Lannister staring down at you. Your features portrayed pure shock. Robb broke away and turned around and you watched as his eyes found Jaime. The two of you were at a loss for words. All Bolton men stood down and your army quickly took them as prisoners. Jaime made his way down to you two shortly, walking over with a confident smirk. “You know, I’ve never been very good at that,” he said. Your brow furrowed with confusion. “But I made an oath, didn’t I?” You were at a loss for words. Robb was the first to step up, though. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said, clearly still in disbelief. “I made an oath I intend to keep,” he said again.

The knight then moved closer to you, lifting your chin with his finger to examine the small wound that had been given to you. “I’m fine,” you said shakily, leaning back. “Still,” he said, then turning to Robb, “You need to get her a medic.” He nodded, calling out to the men to get someone immediately. Everything from then on out was a blur. The cut as well as other bruises and such were being tended to back in the camp. Afterwards there was a celebration. The Queen in the North had survived thanks to her Lannister Queensguard and the Dreadfort had been sacked, with the only remaining Bolton being slain. It was a great victory and made them feel more confident about their impending fight to take back Winterfell. And after Robb established his reign, they would fight for their official secession from the Realm and once again become a free Kingdom.

That night when you slept, you had a vivid dream. You stood on the shores of an island where you heard a loud screech. Turning around, you saw a large dragon take off from the wall of a large castle and head straight for you. For some reason, you felt no fear. The creature landed in front of you with a loud thud followed by a large breeze created by its wings. It looked directly into your eyes before letting out a mighty roar, making you recoil just a bit. Once it was over, it continued to stare at you, seemingly tilting its head with curiosity. Slowly, you walked forward and reached out to touch it. The scales felt burning hot to the touch but there was no pain. Suddenly, you woke up and sat straight up, panting.

Robb immediately woke up, sitting up and wrapping an arm around your waist while placing a hand on your cheek and leaning down to look you in the eyes. “What is it, love?” he asked, still slightly groggy. “I just.. I had a dream,” you replied, still a bit breathless. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t real. You’re okay, you’re safe,” he said quickly, his grip on your waist becoming tighter in an effort to comfort you. “No I... I wasn’t afraid,” you said, staring off for a bit before looking back at him. “I think.. I need to go home, Robb. Not forever but.. I need to see where I was born. I don’t know what that all meant but there’s just this feeling,” you said softly, knowing that it would undoubtedly upset him. “Winterfell is your home, Y/N. Dragonstone is far, you can’t make that journey alone. So much could happen, I.. I can’t lose you.” With each word he spoke, you could hear his anxiety spiking. “I wouldn’t be alone. I would have Jaime.. nothing would happen to me. Trust me, I plan to return to you as soon as I can, my love, but something is calling me there and I can’t ignore it.” His expression was that of sadness and pain, it broke your heart but you stood by what you said. This feeling could not be ignored.

“I told you to trust me, didn’t I? Jaime saved my life today, I know he will be able to protect me. I just need you to understand that this is something I need to do,” you added, taking hold of the hand he had formerly held to your face and squeezing it. “I trust you,” was all he could manage to say. “We know that we have allies in White Harbor who would give us a small ship and a crew. If we ride fast enough, we could arrived there in a week’s time. I know I don’t know really anything about travel by ship but I don’t believe it should take very long. I.. don’t know how long I will be there but know that I will return to you. I’ll send a raven upon my arrival, alright?” you said with a nod. He sighed and nodded in response. “I know there’s no stopping you,” he said with a slight chuckle. Of course there wasn’t, all throughout your childhood he had never been able to keep you from doing what you wanted no matter how risky or ridiculous. You smiled before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

You stood up from the bed, moving over to your trunk and finding your clothes for the day. “I’ll tell Jaime that we’ll be leaving as soon as possible,” you said as you said as you held different practical dresses up. You looked up from the clothing to see Robb still in bed, smirking. He got out and walked over slowly as you retuned to your search for something to wear. You felt him wrap his arms around you from behind, placing soft kisses along your neck. Shivers ran down your spine but you playfully tried to resist him. “I think we both deserve a.. proper goodbye,” he said in a low whisper, giving you goosebumps. Unable to resist, you finally turned around to face him, pressing your lips to his with passion as you placed a hand on the back of his neck. His own arms wrapped tighter around your waste, returning the passion and pulling the two of you back until you fell onto the bed. The two of you began to giggle and grin between kisses as thing became more heated. You still would not budge on consummating your marriage, refusing to become pregnant right now, but found other ways to please each other.

Lying beside one another, you looked into each other’s eyes. “What am I going to do without you?” he sighed. “You’re going to fight for our home and win. You will crush our enemies and when I return home.. we will get revenge for Lord Stark and Lady Catelyn,” you replied. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you ran your fingers through his curls with a smile. “I’ll be back before you know it.” After placing a soft kiss to his forehead, you began to ready yourself for the day. First, you certainly needed a bath after the morning you had. After that, you dressed and made your way to Jaime’s tent.

You sat at the edge of his bed beside him as he polished his blade. “To what do I owe the honor of your company?” he asked, not looking up from his work. “We’re leaving,” you simply replied. The had him looking up immediately as he put down the sword and polishing materials. “What?” he questioned. “We’re leaving. Gather your belongings, we leave for Dragonstone at once.” He gave you a questioning look. “I woke up with this feeling.. I just need to be there. There’s something I need to figure out about myself, about my family.. I don’t know. But we’re going, so please hurry and get your things. I would like to reach White Harbor in a week.” He stood and started to get everything together. “I’d say that’s a bit unrealistic but as you wish,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Rolling your eyes, you exited the tent to be met with looks you didn’t quite understand from the men. Suddenly, each got onto one knee. “My queen,” they all proclaimed. You could spot Robb from a distance and shot him a questioning look, to which he responded with a smile. Lord Karstark was the first to stand, nodding his head to you. “We wish you safe conduct,” he said and then all the others chimed in as they also rose to their feet. It left you speechless. Not long ago, you swore these men were quietly doubting your authority and now here they were, clearly showing their devotion to you. You believed that they genuinely wished for your safe journey and return home and it surprised you. You were quite worried that your return to your house’s seat would leave them in doubt. Smiling, you projected your voice, “I thank you all!” They all moved aside as you made your way through them to get back to your tent, where Robb followed you inside.

Tears were pricking at your eyes as he pulled you into a tight embrace. “I told you they believe in you,” he said quietly. You had shared your concerns with him in late night whispers. You held on to him, saying nothing and instead burying yourself in the crook of his neck as tears you were unable to hold back slipped out. He rubbed your back quietly. After taking a deep breath, you broke apart. “This is it,” you said, feeling them begin to start back up. “It is,” he replied sadly, wiping away the tears with his thumbs as some welled up in his own. It broke your heart but you knew this was something you needed to do. The feeling would eat away at you if you put it off.

As soon as Jaime was finished, the two of you readied your horses with a wagon attached to his to hold your belongings. Robb insisted that you have just a few other men tag along, at least until you two reached White Harbor but you had to remind him that it would only draw more attention. After another tearful goodbye, you and your sworn knight were off. What awaited you in Dragonstone you weren’t sure but you were eager to find out.

Things were a little uncomfortable the first few days, neither of you saying much on the ride and being far too exhausted when you set up camp to have any coherent conversation. It was around the fifth day when Jaime decided to speak up on a slower portion of your ride. “So what is this.. calling you say you had?” he asked. You hadn’t even realized that you didn’t actually explain anything to anyone other than Robb. “It was.. this dream. I was there on the shore, staring out at the ocean when I heard the cry of a dragon. When I turned around, it was headed straight for me and roared when it landed. But I never felt scared. As soon as I touched it, I woke up with this feeling that I needed to go,” you said with a sigh. He looked over at you with a furrowed brow. “You don’t think we’re going to find a dragon just hidden away there, do you?” he replied with a chuckle. You rolled your eyes, looking away from him. “No! I just.. I think it meant something. A symbol or something, I don’t know. All I know is I need to go there now.”

There wasn’t much more to be said, you were too frustrated to continue the conversation though Jaime did try. It wasn’t until you two finally reached White Harbor that a real conversation sparked up again. “Stay close to me,” Jaime said in a low, serious voice. You shot him a questioning look. “Do you not see the way people are looking at you? Sure most people have heard rumors about your existence but not everyone believes it. We don’t exactly know who is okay with it,” he said, making sure to keep his voice down. You nodded, sticking close to him and lifting up your hood as to not draw any more attention from the common folk. Robb said that he had sent a raven to prepare his allies in the harbor for your arrival, so all you needed as to focus on finding them.

People stared as you kept your head down and walked quickly navigated your way through the harbor. When you finally arrived in the shipyard, you began scanning around. It was stressful, as you didn’t even know what you were searching for. That’s when you saw a tall, bearded man staring at you. Curious, you walked closer. “Queen Y/N?” he called out, causing you to let out a sigh of relief and a nod. “Robb told us you’d be coming.. and with him.” There was resentment in his voice as he turned his gaze towards Jaime. “Yes, he is the Lord Commander of my Queensguard,” you said, pulling his attention away from Jaime. “I truly can’t thank you enough for your help with this journey. It means so much to me,” you added, offering him a smile and trying to redirect the conversation. He nodded, returning the smile. “It is my pleasure, my queen.” He then ushered the both of you onto a small but sturdy ship where a crew was already preparing to set sail.

After discussing the details with all of them, you turned to the man who Robb had asked this great favor of. You smiled, “Thank you so much.” He returned it before replying, “I wish you a safe journey, Your Grace.” Then he left and you were pushed off from the harbor. You looked over at Jaime, whose expression you couldn’t quite decipher and then nodded. Strolling over to the side of the boat, you leaned on the railing and stared out at the sea, watching as White Harbor slowly disappeared. You stayed out on the deck for a while before retiring to your quarters, ready for sleep after a long day.

That night you had another dream. This time you were walking the steps up to Dragonstone, hearing footsteps behind you. It was Jaime. He nodded, as if to tell you to keep going and so you did. In no time, you were at the doors of the castle and you could feel your heart nearly beating out of your chest. Taking in a deep breath, you shoved the doors open. You weren’t sure what you were really expecting but there wasn’t much to find. As you ventured through the halls, running your fingertips along its walls, you heard a noise. You couldn’t quite figured out where it was but you followed until it became louder and louder. Finally you stood at the top of a stairs. Whatever it was, it was down in the bowels of the castle. Without a second thought, you hurried down them, eager to figure out just what the hell was going on here. When you finally reached the bottom, you could see a faint light in the distance that you began to ran towards-- and that’s when you woke up.

These dreams had to mean something. Whatever was at Dragonstone, it was beckoning you there and you would answer its call. You just had to hope that it wouldn’t be something you’d regret. You weren’t quite sure what time it was but there was no way you could fall back asleep, so instead you readied yourself for the day and went up on deck. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon and you smiled, hugging your arms close to your body as a brisk wind blew past. Losing yourself in thought, you were only drawn back to reality when you felt a presence beside you. Looking up, you were greeted by the sight of a smirking Jaime Lannister. “Good morning,” he said. You nodded in response.

The two of you stood in silence, enjoying the view before he spoke again. “What do you expect to find, really?” he asked, sounding sincere now. You sighed. “I’m not sure. I had another dream last night and I just know that something is waiting for me,” you let out a huff. “Well then I suppose we’ll just have to find out, yeah?” he replied, offering you what appeared to be a real smile. Slowly, you were beginning to believe that Jaime truly did care for you and really wanted to see to it that you were protected. In fact, you were really starting to enjoy his company. “So do you have any idea how close we are then?” you questioned. “I have been on a ship very few times in my life, Visenya. I haven’t a clue,” he said with a slight shrug. Visenya. It still felt odd to be called that but.. in a good way. It was what your mother intended and the closer you got to your house seat, the more it felt right. You may be an official Stark now but you were still a Targaryen, and one of two that remained at that.

As the day began to wind down, the both of you returned to the lower deck. There was a common area where you two sat and go into the ship’s storage of ale. You laughed and joked for hours, Jaime telling you about the ridiculous things he’d gone through with his family and how he was honestly a lot happier this way. You knew for sure that it was something he’d never admit sober and even then, he seemed shocked that he had admitted it. It made you grin. “A Lannister happy to be in the service of a Stark queen?” you laughed. “Who would’ve thought.” His eyes narrowed, “You may be his queen but you are no Stark, Visenya.” You opened your mouth for just a second before rolling your eyes and huffing as a response, knowing there was no use. He was right, in a way. But still, you were a part of Robb’s family.

Each day felt longer than the one before and you began to wonder if you’d gotten lost. And that’s when you finally saw it, the castle that was shrouded in fog becoming more and more visible the closer you got. Finally, you had made landfall and you anxiously awaited for the men to anchor the boat and set up a bridge to let you off. Once they did, you started off towards the steps that lead you up, shouting a “Thank you!” as you went. You heard Jaime hurrying behind you. “Slow down!” he called. “I can’t!” you responded.

It took you longer than you expected to climb them all but when you did, you stood in awe of the large doors. They looked just as they had in your dream. Jaime finally stood at your side, panting. After some deep breaths, he spoke up. “Are you ready?” he asked, concerned but also somewhat impatient. Finally out of your daze, you nodded. Taking a deep breath, you walked forward and pushed the doors open. As you walked in, everything looked just as you had dreamed-- except for the unfamiliar banners that hung on the walls. Seemingly sensing your confusion, Jaime spoke up. “Stannis Baratheon’s. After.. what happened, his brother gave Dragonstone to him,” he said. You nodded, clenching your jaw at the thought of some usurper just giving away the land your family held for so many years. You yanked hard on the fabric and it came tumbling down. Never again would this place belong to anyone else. Queen in the North or not, you would not let your family’s seat go to anyone else ever again.

Just like in the dream, you ran your fingertips along the stone walls, breathing the air in deeply as if it were somehow different than that up North. This is where you were born.. but also where your mother had died. The beach you arrived on was the same one your siblings had been sent away from. There was plenty of bad memories here but there was also something you needed. Something that would help you better understand yourself and where you came from, you were sure of it. Then, just like that vision, you found the same stairs that lead down into the dungeons. Taking a few deep breaths, you began to walk down.

When you heard Jaime right behind you, you turned to look up at him. “I need to go alone,” you insisted. “Visenya, you don’t know what’s down there. You can’t--” You knew that he meant well, but you cut him off. “I can handle myself. I need to do this alone, Jaime,” you said, trying to stress just how important to you this was. He seemed taken aback, simply nodding and going back up to the top of the steps.

Taking a deep breath, you continued down into the darkness. Part of you wished that you had brought a torch, though you just felt like this was right. Finally reaching the bottom, you looked all around before spotting a light in the distance, just like that from your dream. Everything from your dream was coming true.. it was giving you the chills. Walking slowly towards the light, you squinted your eyes trying to figure out what you were looking at. Finally, you reached the source of the light, though you struggled to understand just what it was you were seeing.

Bending down on your knees, you finally made sense of what you were looking at. The sight left you breathless. Before you, there was three candles. And in front of each one, a dragon egg.

FINAL NOTES: well y’all wanted her to have a knight who protects her.. bet you weren’t expecting it to be jaime ;) and dragons!!!!! ahhh i’m really happy with this chapter and what it has established and i hope you guys are too!

#robb stark imagine #robb stark x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #jaime lannister imagine

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madsmikkelsenschesthair · 5 years

Text

Blood of the Dragon ch.6

A/N: woo sorry I’ve been gone for so long

Warnings: angst

Saying goodbye to the family who raised you, women turned into mothers, men turned into fathers and their sons being raised alongside you turned to best friends or in one case, a brother was as painful as it was. Freyja held back her tears as she bid farewell to her family, Athelstan anointed her forehead with a waxy smelling oil, praying “The Lord’s Prayer” and made the sign of his God’s cross on her chest. Then he kissed her cheek. The women were the hardest of all to say goodbye to; Kraka did all the crying for her hugging her and smothering her with kisses, Siggy and Helga didn’t want to let her go. Lagertha didn’t cry but it was clear she was hurting very much. The boys were very difficult to stop hugging and promising to write to one another.

Her new family looked on with sympathetic gazes. While Freyja said goodbye to Ivar, Lagertha locked eyes with Cersei’s cold ones, she could feel tensions rise between the two and Lagertha couldn’t comprehend why. All she knew was that she wasn’t so sure about putting Freyja’s life in this woman’s hands. To annoy Lagertha even more, Cersei wrapped her arms around Freyja’s shoulders pulling her away from Ivar’s embrace. Lagertha pushed past Aslaug and clamped her hand on top of Cersei’s shoulder turning her around. Knights pulled out their swords but Lagertha showed no fear only anger.

“If any harm comes to this child,” she said in a low voice for only Cersei to hear, “you will answer to me”.

The shock wore off Cersei’s face, a sly smile slowly creeping across her pretty face and her eyes went cold again, “Earl Lagertha there’s nothing to fear. I will love this child as if she were my own”.

Cersei turned around and walked with Freyja to where Rhaegar stood, his warm arm embraced her leading her to the boat where Uncle Jaime and her stepbrother were waiting for her. Uncle Jaime helped her and her pup on to the boat and scooted over so Freyja could sit.

“Don’t worry little dove,” Uncle Jaime said with a sad smile, “you’ll love Kingslanding, You’ll see”

A painful lump formed in her throat and only gave him a tiny smile. ‘Easy for you to say.’ she thought bitterly, ‘you’re not leaving your entire family behind’.

Freyja squinted up at the sky. It was perfectly clear and a seagull squawked somewhere. The weather did not reflect how she was feeling on the inside. Freyja had no other choice than to leave, what else could she do? There was no point in arguing especially when her King Father was the most powerful person in the world. Or so they said. To Freyja, he was a stranger who sat on an Iron throne with a notorious family name.

Her father sat next to her and draped his cape over her shoulders, his warmth surprisingly comfortable yet so strange. Fenrir jumped on to her lap and she began to stroke his fur. At least she would bring something from her old home into her new one. They rowed away from the docks the shadows of the big ships looming over them like a predatory bird. A few men lowered the ladder, unfamiliar faces appeared studying Freyja. Stepmother climbed first, then Rhaegar held out his hand for her to take. “Come little one,” he said “you mustn't be afraid” Freyja gulped and with one hand on the ladder and the other holding on to her pup, she climbed praying to the gods she wouldn’t fall.

The ship was very different than the ones she was accustomed to. It didn’t have any seats where one could sit but it was huge! The sails were bigger than a house flapping in the wind, a red creature with three heads was sewn on to the black flag. She put her wolf down and walked to the deck watching her old home with pain in her heart. From where she stood, Freyja could see Ivar and Sigurd bickering over something. She giggled. The little spark of happiness suddenly went away when she realized this would be the last time she would see this view.

No.

“I will return” Freyja whispered, “I will come back and I won’t leave without my family”. Then with a splinter sticking up from one of the boards, Freyja pricked her finger and let a few drops fall into the open water.

The room they gave her was as beautiful as the ship and as big as the Great Hall with a four-poster bed made of strong dark wood. Instead of furs, they had the same sheets the English used and the duvet was made of soft cotton with black thread and golden dragons sewed to it. The pillows fluffed and a red trunk with the same three-headed creature on the lid was at the foot of her bed ready for use. There was a fireplace warming the room already and candelabras gave light. A desk with paper, ink, and quills was in the corner of her room, a grand wardrobe, a few new furs were sitting on a chair and a bookshelf. Her things were already brought here and sat on a table where she was supposed to have her meals. No matter how grand her room, Freyja couldn’t help but shiver at the emptiness of it. They had left her there alone with Aerion and for the first time since their arrival, Freyja flopped on to her bed and wept her heart out. She sobbed into her pillow so no one could hear, Fenrir jumped on to her bed and snuggled against her. Her only comfort.

Fingers that were as soft as silk brushed against her forehead. Freyja was too worn out from crying to fully wake up or move.

“Forgive me,” a soft voice said. It was her King Father. “I’m sorry you hate us. I’m sorry I am not the perfect father. I heard you crying earlier and I wanted to come in to hold you but...” he grew quiet thinking of the right words to say. “I was afraid you will tell me to go away. All I ever want is for you to be happy” Now she was fully awake but didn’t dare open her eyes, she wanted to hear everything her King Father had to say. “I just want you to know that I love you very much. You are the only child I will ever have and I want to give you what I never had; the love of a father” Freyja’s stomach flipped and her heart bloomed. “You are my little dragon. My little princess. My own heaven on Earth.” This man was her real father and she knew he meant every word he said, a love she didn’t know was there warmed her. Freyja knew it was going to take some time but she will grow accustomed to her new life and maybe even enjoy it as much as she did back in Kattegat. Who knew? Maybe being the daughter of a King wouldn’t be so bad. The door creaked open and followed by the clanking of metal and the door closing again.

“Leave her be, Your Grace. She needs her rest”, Uncle Jaime said stopping by the foot of her bed.

“I don’t want her to hate me,” said her father ignoring what Uncle had said to him, “I want her to love this new life”

“You do realize it will take time? She’s a child, Rhaegar. She still needs to get used to the idea that she’s a princess”

Rhaegar was silent for a moment. Freyja laid there listening to the sounds of their breathing.

“What’s this?” Freyja heard the ruffling of cloth and suddenly her King Father’s hand gripped her own.

“Where did she get that?” His voice quivered and his nails dug into her palms.

Freyja frowned. “Isn’t this yours Your Grace? I thought you said it disappeared during the war”

“Yes, I wonder how she managed to get it in her possession. This was brought back all the way from Valyria!”

It took a moment to wonder what they were talking about then her eyes snapped open and she shot up straight from her bed startling both men and Fenrir.

Uncle Jaime was holding the same dagger Ivar had given her.

If it was originally her father’s then how did get inside Kattegat? Was it an accident?

No. They tried to kill her but who?

Freyja locked eyes with Rhaegar, his face growing whiter than a ghost’s.

“Y/n” he began to say but Freyja backed away from his grasp, his pretty violet eyes filled with hurt.

“Why did Ivar have it? Why was it in Kattegat?” Freyja wanted to sound brave and demanding like she was taught.

“I don’t know, little dove but someone wanted to hurt you,” Her father said slowly as if he were talking to a scared doe, he held his hands up showing her he meant no harm. Freyja searched her nightstand for a weapon but found none.

“Freyja” Uncle Jaime inched closer to her, “We mean it. We don’t know how it got to Kattegat but I can assure you none of us sent it”

Her eyes went from him to her King Father both of their faces sincere and comforting. ‘Odin, Frigg give me a sign they mean their words. Give me a sign I should trust these strangers’.

The ship rocked to the side causing for the painting of the sea on the wall to fall, breaking the frame. Out of the corner, Freyja noticed a face peering from behind the painting. She bent to push it out of the way and underneath it was another painting but of a beautiful woman. She had dark wavy hair, grey eyes, and porcelain skin. The woman wore a beautiful blue wool dress with fur at the trim, in her hands she held a Winter rose beside her was a white direwolf. The woman’s hand on the wolf’s head while its paw rested on top of her knee.

Those eyes! That woman was her mother and the wolf was...

Fenrir went to Rhaegar and licked his hand then howled the song of Winter. The song of the Moon.

Her pup was the son of her mother’s wolf and a ghost-like hand brushed her cheek and Freyja knew it was her mother. Telling her everything would be alright. To trust her father.

Freyja then threw her arms around her dear King Father.

@lettersofwrittencollective @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @faeeiiry @mellxander1993 @blonddnamedhandz @wanderlust-imagines @-thatgirloverthere-

#game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones writing #game of thrones and vikings #vikings fanfic #vikings imagine #vikings #hvitserk x reader #ivar x reader #sigurd x reader

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kallypsowrites · 5 years

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A Compilation of all 8x02 Braime Moments

I know I’ve already made a million posts about Braime in this episode, but Imma just make a list of all the little Braime MOMENTS in this episode, scene by scene, cause I’m trash and I want to put all of my gushy, shippy thoughts in one place.

First of all, a little background: I started watching this show all the way back before season three and season three was the first I watched lived. I was in high school then, and naturally, I started shipping Braime pretty hard. It has been six years since then, and this relationship really is one of my favorites in anything I’ve ever read. It’s important to me. And this episode is validation for so many things I’ve been saying for years.

So let’s dive the fuck in.

1. Brienne defends Jaime

- Jaime looks at Brienne as he quotes her because he wants her to know that he listened and he is here because of her

- Brienne stands in front of him, putting herself between him and Dany, like he put himself in between her and the Bolton men and her and the bear.

- When defending him, Brienne points out that the two things most important about him to her: is that he protected her from being raped (and lost a hand because of it) and kept his oath to Catelyn Stark.

- Jaime keeps his eyes down cast because he feels unworthy of her defense.

- When Brienne says she would fight next to him, he glances at her in something like awe. It’s the most pathetic puppy eyed expression I’ve ever seen

- When everyone is leaving, he immediately looks for her as she leaves the room. She looks at him but walks away, not knowing what to say. This is a difficult relationship to start up again

2. Jaime and Tyrion on the battlements

- Jaime and Tyrion talk about Cersei and leaving behind their family at length in this scene. But in the middle of Tyrion talking about Cersei, Jaime is distracted by Brienne and walks straight away from the conversation to just fucking stare at her. As if to say that he is more concerned with admiring Brienne than discussing Cersei.

- Tyrion follows and notices Jaime staring. It’s fucking adorable.

3. Jaime and Brienne in the courtyard

- They call each other ‘ser Jaime’ and ‘lady Brienne’ both names that they refused each other at the beginning of their relationship which they now embrace

- Jaime compliments Brienne’s work with Podrick as well as her strategic abilities. He’s being genuine and wants to communicate that he respects her

- Brienne distrusts Jaime’s lack of insults but he refuses to delve into insults. He is very much changed.

- The awkward shifting from foot to foot because he just doesn’t know how to express his feelings

- The long fucking pause after ‘I came to Winterfell because...’ He should have just dropped an I love you right there.

- The cut to her face as she stares at him, waiting for the answer

- Jaime not only asks to fight beside Brienne but UNDER her, which shows how much he respects her. He is willing to humble himself before her just to let her know that he cares

- She speechlessly agrees because she has never had any man want to FOLLOW her command, especially not this man who she loves.

- Brienne’s ‘I better get back’ because this is too much for her and Jaime looking after her for like five solid seconds. So many long lingering camera shots.

4. The strategy meeting

- Brienne and Jaime are right next to each other the whole time and often framed together

- Brienne continues to look vaguely disgusted by Tormund’s advances

5. Drinking buddies

- Jaime says his ‘golden lion days are over’ as if saying that he is never going back to his old life with Cersei. He is moving forward

- Jaime and Tyrion cheers to ‘self betterment’ and Brienne walks in RIGHT AFTERWARD because SHE IS JAIME’S SELF BETTERMENT

- Jaime fucking JUMPS to his feet when he notices her, stuttering out ‘my lady’ which I’m pretty sure is the first time he has called her ‘my lady’ as opposed to ‘lady Brienne’ or anything else.

- Tyrion’s FACE. Tyrion goddamn KNOWS. He sees his brother’s smitten face and is like, oh damn, he’s got a crush on someone who isn’t Cersei. Fucking incredible.

- Jaime pulls her up a chair!! And insists she stay!!

- It’s after Jaime offers that she smiles just a bit and accepts because she clearly wants to be around him

- He stays behind the chair until she sits THEN takes his seat

- Tyrion gives Brienne a drink with a very happy look on his face like ‘hey, you my brother’s new girlfriend? I like you. I like how you’re so not Cersei. We’re going to be friends.’

- When Tormund arrives, he IMMEDIATELY identifies Jaime as a potential rival for Brienne’s affections

- Jaime looks at Brienne for most of Tormund’s weird story, as if wondering ‘do I have competition? Is she into it? Oh good, I don’t think she’s into it’.

- Really, Tormund is principally used as a prop to advance Jaime and Brienne’s relationship and I’m truly glad. Tormund’s admiration of Brienne can be creepy at times, cute at others, but it’s not prioritized over the real relationship

6. A Knight of the Seven Goddamn Kingdoms

I got a big old list for this one cause holy shit

- The admiring look Jaime gives Brienne when she says ‘at least we’ll die with honor’.

- Jaime watching Brienne during the ‘women can’t be knights’ conversation, not quite realizing the power he has to knight her but still respecting the hell out of her

- Jaime realizing, once Tormund mentions that he would knight her if ‘he was a king’ that HE’S a knight and HE can do it

- “Oh, you would knight her if you could? Well I CAN fucking knight her. Hold my wine”

- The loud ‘clack’ as he just slams his mug down like ‘I’m DOING this bitches. I’m going to knight my wife’.

- Jaime strolling confidently over and drawing his sword and telling Brienne to kneel with maximum confidence. That was fucking hot.

- Brienne’s bitter smile because she doesn’t think he’s serious and thinks he must be joking because this would be too good to be true and she’s settled for never being truly respected for what she is.

- The way Jaime’s voice softens when he asks her to kneel the second time to let her know that he is serious.

- The way Brienne looks to Podrick first, then Jaime for reassurance and they both give her an encouraging nod. They are both important to her but Jaime is the last person to give her the nod that drives her to stand

- The way she slowly rises, never taking her eyes off Jaime, hesitating because she’s still expecting it to be a joke. They linger so long on this shot and you FEEL it.

- Jaime fidgeting with his sword because he’s actually really nervous about getting this right because he respects her so much and he knows that she deserves the best and he doesn’t feel worthy to bestow this honor upon her. Also, notice that Brienne looks down at his hand right before that shot so she notice’s it.

- The gentle way he speaks the ceremony and the soft expression on both of their faces and the tears in Brienne’s eyes and the way he focuses the most on the ‘defend the innocent’ part because that’s what Brienne has always been best at.

- “Arise, Brienne of Tarth. A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms”

- He’s so proud when he speaks those words. So fucking proud.

- And she stands with tears in her eyes and she gives the softest little smile and he stares at her like she’s a goddamn angel

- The others start applauding but they keep staring at each other for about three seconds before Jaime startles out of his haze like ‘oh...other people are here. Right’. For a moment they were the only two people in the world.

- This really seems to be the moment that they both realize they love each other. Brienne has known for awhile but has been fighting it. And Jaime has been in denial. But now, Brienne seems to stop fighting it and Jaime comes to the realization and god its so beautiful

- Tyrion congratulating Brienne with a toast because he already loves his brother’s new girlfriend so much

- Brienne looking back at Jaime again, even more tears and even more smiling, because she’s so thankful

- That little nod Jaime gives her as if to say ‘no worries. it was nothing’ when it was EVERYTHING

- That big smile on Brienne’s face. God she’s so perfect and wonderful. Such an angel. I love her.

7. Jenny’s Song

- During Podrick’s song, the camera pans from Brienne to Jaime as it says ‘and the one who had loved her the most’ and I melt.

I know this is a long list and a lot of it is about small details but this comes from the tremendous subtlety in the writing and acting. Nik and Gwen are stunning and their chemistry off the charts. I don’t know how ANYONE can watch these scenes and not see how in love with each other they are.

Anyway, I love them, so I hope you enjoyed me obsessing. And if you didn’t and you don’t ship them, I don’t know how you got this far reading this post lol. Braime forever!

#game of thrones #got spoilers #game of thrones season 8 #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #braime #tyrion lannister

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twelvemonkeyswere · 5 years

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AFFC - Jaime III

aka Bear Pit Pt 2: That Time Jaime Takes a Long Ride that Proves his Compassionate Nature and That He Will Defend Brienne Even If She Is Not Around or in Immediate Danger

Thoughts on Jaime / Brienne:

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“His hand shone dully in its light. No good for throttling eunuchs, but heavy enough to smash that slimy smile into a fine red ruin. He wanted to hit someone.”

→ HA! “a fine red ruin”. Get it, huh, huh? Because Red gets ruined? HA!

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1/3 time Jaime actively mentions Brienne in his thoughts:

“Payne was as rusty as his ringmail, and not so strong as Brienne, yet he met every cut with his own blade, or interposed his shield.”

→ We do mention a lot how Brienne constantly says ‘he ain’t Jaime tho’ but Jaime is just the same: ‘Payne ain’t Brienne but he’ll do’

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2/3 time Jaime actively mentions Brienne in his thoughts:

“Jaime found himself wondering if Brienne might have passed this way before him. If she thought that Sansa Stark had made for Riverrun . . . Had they encountered other travelers, he might have stopped to ask if any of them had chance to see a pretty maid with auburn hair, or a big ugly one with a face that would curdle milk.”

→ I’m a sucker for Jaime having Brienne’s same train of thought and thinking about her journey constantly. As others have pointed out, he is startled by his wondering and has to remind himself how ugly she is, right? The fact he wants to ask about Sansa (his vow) is nice, but the fact he also wants to ask about Brienne (his special interest), is very nice.

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3/3 time Jaime actively mentions Brienne in his thoughts:

“He passed beneath the covered bridge… before he realized where he was headed.”

→ Don’t fucking @ me. The bear pit is a direct, unquestionable straight line to Brienne and as soon as he gets a chance he, unbidden, goes to her memory.

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So Bear Pit Pt 2:

““Naked? No.” He wondered how that wrinkle had been added to the story.”

→ Kingslayer’s whore?

“The Mummers put her in a pink silk gown and shoved a tourney sword into her hand. The Goat wanted her death to be amuthing. Elsewise . . .”

“. . . the sight of Brienne naked might have made the bear flee in terror.” Connington laughed. Jaime did not. “You speak as if you know the lady.”

→ a couple of things:

what I LOVE about this moment is that Jaime is here genuinely trying to make some conversation and casually doing disrespectful impressions of the man who almost kills them and he’s actually concerned with explaining the truth and HE IS DISREGARDED by Connignton because Connington is an ass and THEN Connington disrespects his wench and it just.fucking.activates.him.

Jaime remembers the dress clear enough to describe it in material and color (this man is definitely not my father)

what was after that ‘elsewise’? ‘Elsewise, she would’ve killed it? She would’ve won? I would not have needed to jump in?’ Jaime respects (and admires!) Brienne SO FUCKING MUCH I wanna believe he was going to sing his praises here.

“That took him by surprise. Brienne had never mentioned a betrothal.”

→ He's SO OFFENDED lmao Heaven knows how much shit he talked during their walk across the Riverlands and he is like, Brienne surely would’ve mentioned something of SUCH importance but he also senses that if she DIDN’T it was because of REASONS and gosh does he make Ronnet spill the beans.

““I was the second. My father’s notion. I had heard the wench was ugly, and I told him so, but he said all women were the same once you blew the candle out.”

“Your father.” Jaime eyed Red Ronnet’s surcoat.”

→ Jaime taking notice of who Connington dad is because HE’S GONNA CUT A BITCH

→ (and also because he is trying to unravel why they would betroth Brienne to this idiot and he discovers it’s because they are poor and were going to use her to elevate his status and you can just feel his disdain, I fucking love it)

““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.”

→ the first time I read this I fucking TRANSCENDED because I wanted to smack each of Brienne’s wrongdoers myself. Jaime stood his ground as much as he could but the moment he insults Brienne with “freak” (and insults her bush, which we know he was gladly impressed by) he just fucking reacts. And my favorite bit is…

“You are speaking of a highborn lady, ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne.”

→ FIRST, Jaime hasn’t referred to Brienne internally as “wench” or anything else but Brienne in a fucking long time.

→ SECOND, this shows just how much he respects her as a woman, as a mf lady, and how much he’ll demand others will treat her as such.

→ And THIRD, it shows how much he respects her, PERIOD. We love a man who loves and respects his beloved.

Thoughts on Jaime:

Clearly even though Loras is young Jaime thinks he is worth his salt. And it’s not until Cersei brings up his gayness that Jaime doesn’t really anger. Even Cersei points out that Jaime’s “perception” of manhood has changed but I think it has to do more about Jaime respecting Loras and him self-actualizing his identity.

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More on Cersei:

“Cersei slapped his face. / Jaime made no attempt to block the blow. “I see I need a thicker beard, to cushion me against my queen’s caresses.” He wanted to rip her gown off and turn her blows to kisses.”

→ this looks terribly like conditioned behaviour because Jaime previously mentions he has to “beg” for her “affections” and that means “coaxing” her into changing that. Same thing happens when they are discussing the unmentionable knife and he sits her on his lap to stop her from being angry. which actually leads me to…

“Softer words might have swayed her, yet of late the very sight of her made him angry”

→ He balked her on purpose, though he seems to miss her somehow still (he’s horny, too) he gets angry at her and doesn’t let that impulse govern him at all. But he does allow himself to anger her because he doesn’t want to have to treat her kindly. It’s almost like he’s realizing how hateful she actually is.

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FUCKING KILL ME BRUH

“It had been long years since Jaime had named any of his horses; he had seen too many die in battle, and that was harder when you named them.”

→ Jaime: traumatized horse girl. Poor man.

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Symbolism?

“Glory wore trappings of Lannister crimson; Honor was barded in Kingsguard white”

→ I’m sure this is symbolism but heck if I can put it into words. Like, it seems clear (?) they represent two sides of Jaime, the need to uphold the Lannister name (glory) and the dedicated vows of his knighthood (honor) but… that’s as far as I get.

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Paralelism:

Jaime’s “price” for going to the Riverlands is Ilyn Payne (a counterpart to Brienne’s Pod) and Ser Addam (a person from his past, like Brienne’s Hyle). I like their parallelism. Like, they’re accompanied by someone who reminds them who they were and what they have/are becoming while on a quest caused by their vows.

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Jaime is not stupid:

“Robb Stark took me unawares in the Whispering Wood,” he said. “That will never happen again.”

→ besides this man turns trauma into learning points.

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Jaime cares about others:

“Jaime had given stern commands that no man was to depart the column without his leave.” → He protects the land as they go, he scoffs at the “bored lordings” who could trample and attack the stock and farms along the way.

Little Lew Piper brings blackberries, Jaime orders him to share them with the other squires and fucking Ilyn Payne.

Feeling sorry for the horse and bear.

Pia!

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More Paralelism:

I love this bit that calls back to Jaime’s first chapter ever:

“Riding at the front of the host with Ser Ilyn silent by his side, Jaime felt almost content. The sun was warm on his back and the wind riffled through his hair like a woman’s fingers.”

→ It’s like a more toned down “alive and drunk on sunlight.”. Instead of feeling alive, he feels almost content. Instead of drunk, warm. Instead of Cersei's fingers, a woman's. And it’s about being free from a former entrapment behind enemy lines.

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Goldenhand

“Men shall name you Goldenhand from this day forth, my lord,” the armorer had assured him the first time he’d fitted it onto Jaime’s wrist. He was wrong. I shall be the Kingslayer till I die.”

→ I swear to God if they give him the nickname AFTER he dies I’m going to fucking scream (fingers crossed he won’t die)

“The golden hand was the occasion for much admiring comment over supper, at least until Jaime knocked over a goblet of wine. Then his temper got the best of him… After that there was no more talk about his hand.”

→ These fucking people omgggg fucking bootlickers. Besides he lets the common folk/his men see him as he is but has to pretend for "polite" company. I like that the hand is almost a second thought like, Well I suppose I ought to wear the hand to dinner.

→ He also says they’ll call him ‘Goldenhand the Just’ eventually because he is willing to impart justice even to the men who served his own house (he hangs a man in Lannister red for being a bandit), and if that doesn’t show AGAIN he is willing to do the right thing if necessary… well.

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Jaime’s shames:

“They have lusty wenches in House Hayford. These are love bites, lad.”

→ Jaime Lannister, famously monogamous, thinks a fake hickey excuse is less shameful than his shortcomings. But also he needs to appear commanding.

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Jaime, Horsegirl (contin’d):

““These are demons in the skins of wolves, sent to chastise us for our sins.”

“This must have been an uncommonly sinful horse,” Jaime said, standing over what remained of the poor animal.”

→ this line is not just funny but shows just how much Jaime has an affinity to the innocent.

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About Hoat:

since the description of how he died (tortured, cut up in pieces, fed his own flesh, then defiled in death) happens right before the goddamn Bear Pit Pt 2 I had completely forgotten about it. Jaime hears the tale, sees the head, and hi satisfaction at his death seems to curdle. I just like that of course, we know Jaime is not cruel. And that even though Brienne told him to “live and take revenge,” he is NOT finding pleasure in a death he might have gloated on if he were different.

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About Pia:

“She is a font of corruption,” said Ser Bonifer…

“I expect her flaunting days are done,” he said, “but if you find her that objectionable, I’ll take her.” He could make her a washerwoman, he supposed. His squires did not mind raising his tent, grooming his horse, or cleaning his armor, but the task of caring for his clothes struck them as unmanly

→ So first, this is one of the reasons I like Jaime. He is actually very very compassionate, and actually defends Pia. Second, does this seem to suggest he would’ve personally taken care of his clothes if he had two hands? Or just that this seems like an excuse to bring her in? Also, I love how the squires will do the cleaning but draw the line at washing clothes.

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Jaime internally calling Ser Bonifer “Baelor Butthole” is infinitely amuthing to me.

#personal #wendy rereads: affc #jb quotes #this is just so i keep track of my notes #in a handy post

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cometsweepandleonidsfly · 5 years

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By Maureen Ryan | Apr 24, 2019 4:08 PM EDT

There are four more episodes to come before Game of Thrones airs its series finale, but I feel confident in stating that we've witnessed the HBO drama's finest hour. For my money, the best episode of the HBO drama is the most recent installment, "A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms." In fact, I think it's valid to compare it to one of the best ever episodes of Mad Men, "The Suitcase."

Both hours were what TV critics pray to see: The culmination of years of work spent getting to know truly specific characters as well as their dilemmas and their emotional lives. And this is one of those times that the larger scale of Game of Thrones worked in its favor.

In "The Suitcase," one of the greatest episodes of any TV show ever, there was a tight and extraordinarily fruitful focus on one relationship. Through a rollercoaster of a day shared by Don Draper (Jon Hamm) and Peggy Olson (Elizabeth Moss), viewers experienced an incredible range psychological states and fraught and funny moments: Friends squabbling and laughing, co-workers commiserating, a stressed boss yelling at an understandably resentful underling, and finally two human beings who've seen each other at their lowest moments and care about each other deeply anyway.

I wouldn't put "A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms" in quite the same category as that classic Mad Men installment, but the fact that the hours have a lot in common is very much a mark in the HBO show's favor. It's also a little surprising. I don't have a long personal list of "Best Game of Thrones Episodes," because the show's often pretty amorphous and sprawling. Given how many places and people a typical episode has to deal with, most episodes — even the good ones — come across as more a collection of stuff than a carefully curated hour with a strong and clear theme. "A Knight of Seven Kingdoms" was different: It absolutely did not feel like one slice of a 10-hour movie. It was its own rich and intimate thing.

Thanks to the show's large ensemble, we saw the episode's ideas about redemption and connection play out among an array of varied characters, most of whom we've come to love or at least like. And like many of the best episodes of TV, "A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms" didn't just tell an involving story with people we care about, it restated and dove deeply into the show's core questions. Are compromise and growth possible? Should good people even bother trying to fight a constant tide of evil? What do you prioritize when presented with conflicting loyalties? Should you just give in to the darkness in your fight to survive, or is it possible to believe in even a battered form of hope?

It's not a spoiler to say that Westeros will not survive as it was, no matter what happens in the enormous battles to come. But by learning as much as they have — by demonstrating that people can change — the episode kept alive the idea that Westeros is worth saving, possibly (though I won't shed a tear for the racist and sexist characters that bite the dust).

Sometimes Game of Thrones is a little too binary for my taste, but in "A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms," it allowed for a middle ground between its "you win or you die" options, which have been best exemplified by sweet, naive Ned Stark (Sean Bean) and heartless, power-obsessed Cersei (Lena Headey). But maybe there's another way: Combine the best qualities of the people around that fireside — Tyrion's (Peter Dinklage) cleverness, Davos' (Liam Cunningham) practicality, Brienne's (Gwendoline Christie) steadfast courage, Tormund's (Kristofer Hivju) unpretentious directness, Podrick's (Daniel Portman) reliable empathy, and Jaime's (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) ability to disown his previous arrogance and cruelty — and you have a roadmap to what a new Westeros could be. If anyone survives the clash to come, if enough people remember that that true strength is not simply a matter of deploying brute force, maybe there's hope for this benighted land yet.

Of course, Game of Thrones, like Mad Men and so many other prestige dramas before it, is more interested in the redemption of a privileged man than the patience of a put-upon woman. But that doesn't make the Jaime-Brienne relationship, as brought to life by Nikolai Coster-Waldau and Gwendoline Christie, any less fascinating on screen. When the story began, Jaime asked for too much from the world — and got it. Brienne, on the other hand, steeled herself to not want almost anything, but she got even less than that.

But that power dynamic, like so many others in Westeros, has been reversed. Just as Don Draper learned a lot from his former secretary, Jaime realized just being in a room with Brienne was a gift he probably didn't deserve.

In this episode, Jaime (among other formerly swaggering men) was the supplicant. And if rejected, he would have left, or accepted his death. If Sansa (Sophie Turner) had told Theon (Alfie Allen) to leave, he would have. No rage, no tantrums. How weird and yet welcome it was to see their arrogance replaced by humility — and the script by Bryan Cogman strongly indicated that, if Westeros is to survive, that kind of mature, considered behavior should become the norm, not the exception.

Think about how utterly bizarre the episode's central scene would have seemed seven or eight years ago: A Wildling (Tormund) made a suggestion that a Lannister who'd abandoned his noble family endorsed, as another Lannister (one who serves a Targaryen) looked on. Tormund's wild and utterly sensible idea: What if status was determined by an actual meritocracy? Sitting with those who no longer considered themselves his betters, his idea was met with zero resistance. Jaime, the former golden boy of Westeros, proudly knighted a woman — one whom just about everyone dumped on in the early seasons of the show.

By that quiet fireside, we saw how far everyone had traveled — not just geographically. The men and women gathered at Winterfell have begun to learn from each other. A few of them can almost trust each other (at least some of the time). But more than that, many of the characters — most of them men — have learned that power unaccompanied by humility is often a toxic force in society. Sam (John Bradley) talked to Jorah Mormont (Iain Glen) about having learned from his father what it was to be a man. Part of what Sam and others have learned is that it's fine to give away what doesn't work for you, whether it's a sword or the idea of that all power must be enforced by constant oppression.

Jaime not only not didn't insult Brienne, he asked if he could serve under her. He opened himself up to rejection and ridicule; he was sincere, which is simply not done in the world of the Lannisters. Jorah made tentative suggestions to Dany (Emilia Clarke), the woman whom every man used to feel free to lecture at length. The Hound (Rory McCann) couldn't tell Arya (Maisie Williams) how much she means to him, but asking her to talk to him was as close as he could ever come.

And then there was Tormund himself. He supplies welcome comic relief (and his devotion to Brienne walks a fine line between funny and creepy). But he — one of the "lowest" people in the original Westeros social order — has never had a problem recognizing the quality of Brienne's fighting or the depth of her character. Jaime could learn a thing or two from men like Tormund and women like Brienne. And Jaime has.

We often laud Game of Thrones' battle episodes, which are undeniably engaging, but this hour was, to me, far more powerful and moving than any explosion or "big death." TV often uses death as a cheap escape hatch, rather than have characters do the hard work that change requires. But the core of "A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms" involved characters displaying their personal growth, their willingness to discard old ways of thinking, and their willingness to be vulnerable and honest.

Tyrion acknowledged his missteps. Jaime apologized to Bran (Isaac Hempstead Wright), knowing full well any words he said would be inadequate. Sansa and Dany aired out differences of opinions without deciding they had to go to war right then and there (they might, but they both know making some kind of deal will be better for their people, if they survive). Theon and Jaime weren't the only ones who wanted to atone for their past mistakes; even Davos tried to help out however he could. If all he could do was serve soup, he'd do it.

And if Jaime had to listen to several characters list just a few of his serious crimes, he'd listen. His face and body language seemed to say that if one of the people confronting him decided to lop off his head, it would be no more than he deserved. You can't change and truly atone until you listen and learn, and that's the path Jaime took. He's a far cry from the entitled, Bran-throwing jerk we met in the first season.

The one person who hasn't changed much is Brienne, who has always expected to be ridiculed, misunderstood, and marginalized, and who tries her best to do the right thing anyway. She's not a perfect person — let your employee have a drink already! — but she's been true to herself from day one. She didn't try to be more like the heedless noblemen of the arrogant Westeros elite. These men, over time, have tried to become more like her.

And the thing that makes Jaime's gratitude toward her an absolute heart-melter is that he knows — he really knows — that he will never deserve her mercy or her friendship. But he's grateful for both.

There are no doubt many memorable scenes and moments to come in the next few weeks. But this kind of thing represents Game of Thrones at its best. When it gets small and leans into everything we've come to know about conflicted characters and what they've been through, those moments are actually huge and enormously moving. As Brienne and Jaime looked at each other while he knighted her, they truly saw each other in their souls (and the whole thing was better than sex, which Game of Thrones often gets wrong anyway). Even in bizarre or terrifying circumstances, connection was possible. "A thing like that," as Pete Campbell might say.

It's hard to know if anything any of us have done in life makes any difference. It's hard to trust people, and it can be excruciating to hope that your openness or willingness to change might lead to a better life and not just pain and embarrassment. It was hard for Brienne to walk over to Jaime and kneel before him. I've re-watched that moment so many times because Christie's performance is simply phenomenal. Brienne wanted to hope Jaime's offer was real, and yet she didn't dare hope. Did she? You can see all of those feelings of doubt, resolve, and pride play over her face. Even as part of her wondered if this was one more cruel joke from a world — and a man — who had once thought of her as a ridiculous nobody, she put her faith in what would happen next. And this time, she was right to hope.

Jaime truly saw her in that moment, and she saw him, just as Tyrion can see his brother clearly, and Sansa perceives the penitent man that has emerged from the wreckage of Theon's life. Peggy put her hand on Don Draper's hand in "The Suitcase" to tell him that she saw him, and that she would stay.

In those moments, those people — in Westeros and on Madison Avenue — were not the sum of their worst actions. They were choosing to reveal themselves to each other, in all their flailing misery and unexpected glory, and thus give their lives meaning, at least until the next disaster.

"We're all going to die," Tormund said. "But at least we're going to die together."

#yup #game of thrones #got #mad men #a knight of the seven kingdoms #the suitcase #back when it seemed as if the series could end excellently #brienne of tarth #jaime lannister

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argentvive · 6 years

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Jaime’s Fate: A Clue in A Feast for Crows

AFFC has twice as many Brienne chapters as Jaime chapters, but Jaime thinks about and pines for Brienne as much as she does for him.

I’ve finally made it to Jaime III in AFFC, more than halfway through the book. Jaime thinks about Brienne A LOT, but he also thinks about what he’d like his name and destiny to be. In my opinion, the chapter provides a massive clue for Jaime’s fate at the end of the series.

(The events in Jaime III are not in the TV series, so this is a still from Episode 7.07, where we see Jaime riding away from King’s Landing in search of his destiny.)

The chapter begins with Cersei telling Jaime she wants him to go to Riverrun to defeat Brynden Tully. She is in green again, while Jaime--

<”All the color is draining out of you, brother. You’ve become a ghost of what you were, a pale crippled thing. And so bloodless, always in white.”>

Cersei’s comment reinforces that Jaime is in the albedo (White stage) now.

When Jaime sets off on his mission we learn that his two mounts are named Honor and Glory. Honor wears the white of the Kingsguard, Glory the Lannister crimson, a subtle clue that Jaime’s path is honor now, not glory.

Jaime recruits the executioner Ilyn Payne for the mission. As they ride together, Jaime muses, “Perhaps there is yet hope for the both of us.” It’s hard to imagine redemption for Payne, but the insight into Jaime’s thoughts shows us that redemption is what Jaime wants for himself.

This chapter gives us the first detailed description of Jaime’s prosthetic hand:

The war party take shelter one night in a castle of the Hayfords. Jaime opens the shutters in his tower room and sees a “horned moon.” When we get a reference to the moon, we should know Jaime’s thoughts will soon be turning to Brienne.

Jaime and Payne go to the castle courtyard to spar. Jaime is trying to learn to fight left-handed. “Payne was as rusty as his ringmail, and not so strong as Brienne....They danced beneath the horned moon as the blunted swords sang their steely song.” Symbolically perhaps, Brienne is keeping watch over Jaime still.

As the column crosses from the lands belonging to King’s Landing to those sworn to Riverrun, they see increasing signs of looting and slaughter. Jaime dispenses justice:

<...Some outlaws had taken shelter in the root cellar beneath the second brother’s keep. One of them wore the ruins of a crimson cloak, but Jaime hanged him with the rest. It felt good. This was justice. Make a habit of it, Lannister, and one day men might call you Goldenhand after all. Goldenhand the Just.>

This seems pretty straightforward foreshadowing to me. Honor and justice are qualities that go with a protagonist who has achieved the Red Stone, and all the gold that goes with it. Jaime is not there yet; he has only achieved the White Stone. He must still pass through the Exaltation stage. He must renounce and abandon Cersei. Only then can--and will--he be truly worthy, truly honorable. Only then will he lose the hated “Kingslayer” name and be acclaimed as “Goldenhand the Just.”

In the following sentence we learn that the soldiers are going to Harrenhal. Harrenhal is where Jaime and Brienne experienced their final, permanent Chemical Wedding, in the baths. Harrenhal is also where Jaime threw caution and good sense aside and jumped into the bear pit to save Brienne. You would expect the rest of the chapter to be full of references to Jaime’s experiences with Brienne, and you would be right.

Jaime finds out that Vargo Hoat, the raider who had ordered his maiming, has died, been cut into pieces, and (mostly) eaten.

The only way the civil war can end is if the endless cycles of revenge and retribution cease. Jaime is losing his own desire for revenge--perhaps he can exert his leadership and be a model for others in this regard.

Jaime shows mercy to the remaining captives--including the girl Pia and Ser Wylis Manderly. After taking dinner with Ser Bonifer Hasty, a deeply religious man that Jaime appoints to command the garrison, Jaime descends to the courtyard to watch his men sparring. But an unseen force draws him away.

<His fingers had the itch again. His footsteps took him away from the noise and the light. He passed beneath the covered bridge and through the Flowstone Yard before he realized where he was headed.

As he neared the bear pit, he saw the glow of a lantern....>

Ser Ronnet Connington is there.

<Below, the carcass of the bear still sprawled upon the sands, though only bones and ragged fur remained, half-buried. Jaime felt a pang of pity for the beast. At least he died in battle.”>

And so Jaime returns to the scene of his rescue of Brienne. He does not intend to go there. As is common with protagonists in an alchemy story, he acts subconsciously, on instinct, propelled by some invisible force. This is, in an odd way, a reunion with Brienne. As I wrote in my earlier post on the rescue, the bear is a lunar animal, white, and symbolizes Brienne. Even though the bear might have killed both Brienne and himself, he feels “a pang of pity” for the bear now.

And you know if Jaime is thinking about Brienne that somehow GRRM will work in a reference to the pink dress, and he doesn’t disappoint. Jaime recounts the story to Connington:

<”The Mummers put her in a pink silk gown and shoved a tourney sword into her hand.>

Again, Jaime is Red and Brienne is White, and one of the symbols of their conjunction (coniunctio) in the Chemical Wedding is her pink dress.

Connington describes the circumstances of his brief engagement to Brienne, in increasingly insulting terms.

<”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.”>

Jaime is defending Brienne’s honor. Since they are alchemically one person now, an insult to her is an insult to him, and he strikes Connington. Also, I think this is the third or fourth time Jaime has insisted that Brienne be called by her proper name. Names mean a lot to him; he longs to shed his own hated “Kingslayer” sobriquet.

One thing I’m not sure of is whether to take the reference to the burning oil from the lantern and the “spreading flames on [Connington’s] hands and knees” as some kind of coagula. Fire usually has a symbolic meaning in an alchemy story, but I can’t figure out what it could mean here. I don’t think Connington becomes a major character later.

#game of thrones meta #alchemy #jaime lannister #braime #jaime x brienne #a feast for crows #chemical wedding #albedo #brienne of tarth #asoiaf #george r r martin

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sankta-arya · 7 years

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Not All That Glitters Is Gold (6)

Jon is on a mission, but love is the death of duty… The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives…

Inspired by the Undercover Lover theory. I gave you a fair warning and I’ll tag it as well, so if you continue reading and don’t like the story, that’s your own responsibility.

She stops him from rising with a hand on his arm. "There's no need." She's pushed the other Queen far enough tonight. That doesn't mean the game should end though, she muses.

"Ser Jaime," she calls out. "Will you please walk me to my chambers?"

Jaime Lannister steps out of the shadows behind the dais and offers her his arm. "Your Grace."

She takes it and offers Jon a smile. "Goodnight, Jon."

"Goodnight, Sansa," he mutters, glowering at his tankard.

"Perhaps your brother isn't as much of a dolt as I believed him to be," Ser Jaime muses when they're out of earshot.

Two more nights and Jon and Daenerys will be heading North with the remaining troops. The actual farewell feast will take place on their last night in Winterfell, but they're all having supper in the Great Hall tonight to lift spirits.

The food is modest, but the hall is full and warm and merry, and there are singers and musicians, and the ale and wine flow freely. Jon is late, and sitting in his usual spot next to Daenerys at the other end of the high table is Harry Hardyng. The Dragon Queen is acting almost inappropriately affectionate with the young Vale knight, who seems to be enjoying her attention.

Jon enters the Great Hall and frowns at the scene in front of him. His eyes travel to Sansa and she pats the seat next to her, which is usually occupied by Bran. Her brother chose to stay in his chambers to look for more clues to help them defeat the Night King.

Jon hesitates, but then Daenerys puts her hand on the arm he damaged the day before and he averts his eyes, walking over to accept Sansa's invitation. When he sits down, she offers him her plate and fills a tankard of ale for him.

He glances at the plate.

"I'm not hungry," she tells him.

He downs the ale and tears a piece of bread apart. He looks more distraught than usual and she wonders whether it's simple annoyance at Daenerys' embarassing display or whether her little scheme is actually working. She wonders why the Dragon Queen is resorting to such plans at all.

She sighs and leans in until her arm is brushing Jon's. He turns his head until their noses are almost touching. "I met Ser Harrold during my time in the Vale," she whispers. "He was about to become a father for the second time. His lady love was called Saffron, so I asked him whether he was planning to name the babe Cinnamon or Cloves."

His mouth falls open and he barks out a laugh. From the corner of her eye Sansa can see Daenerys glaring at them.

"So he's married?"

She picks a dried fig from Jon's plate - one of the last of a delicacy Daenerys brought with her from across the Narrow Sea, given to her by Tyrion as a peace offering - and leans back in her chair. "Oh, no," she tells him. "Two children and two different mothers so far, I believe."

"I should have cut off his arm," he growls.

She shakes her head before taking a delicate bite. "He's terribly flawed," she continues, "but he's handsome enough. He has a very nice smile."

He puts his tankard down with a thud and stares at her. "You think so?"

She hums in agreement before tucking the last bit of fig into her mouth and licking her fingers. That does the trick, Daenerys pushes herself to her feet and comes over to drape herself over the armrest of Jon's chair, effectively inserting herself between him and Sansa.

"I just realized we've never danced before," she purrs. "It would please me greatly to dance with you, Jon Snow."

She doesn't need to see him to imagine the look on his face. Jon hates dancing.

"I hate to disappoint you, My Queen, but I'm afraid I'm a terrible dancer. I'm sure Ser Harrold would be up to the task though. He seems eager to please you."

Sansa mentally thanks the Old Gods and the New she's learned to control her facial expressions. It seems Daenerys hasn't mastered that skill though. Her face falls, but she returns to Harry and takes Jon's advice anyway, perhaps interpreting it as a challenge.

Jon sighs loudly. "I yield, Sansa. I'm afraid I don't understand women at all. This morning she was annoyed because we don't spend enough time together and now that we're both here, she wastes her attention on Harry Hardyng."

"She was annoyed?"

He nods. "Furious even, I'd say, because I was with you last night?"

"You haven't told her about...?" She lets the question trail off, afraid to say too much with an audience present.

"No, of course not. Why?"

"No reason at all," she assures him as she gets up. "I think I'll retire now, Jon. I need to start preparations for the feast early tomorrow."

He empties his cup. "I'll escort you back to your chambers."

She stops him from rising with a hand on his arm. "There's no need." She's pushed the other Queen far enough tonight. That doesn't mean the game should end though, she muses.

"Ser Jaime," she calls out. "Will you please walk me to my chambers?"

Jaime Lannister steps out of the shadows behind the dais and offers her his arm. "Your Grace."

She takes it and offers Jon a smile. "Goodnight, Jon."

"Goodnight, Sansa," he mutters, glowering at his tankard.

"Perhaps your brother isn't as much of a dolt as I believed him to be," Ser Jaime muses when they're out of earshot.

She arches an eyebrow and he smirks at her. As they leave the hall, he looks back over his shoulder and sighs: "Ah, young love."

She risks a glance as well. Daenerys is still dancing with Ser Harrold. Jon still looks furious, but his murderous glare is directed at Jaime Lannister, not Harry Hardyng.

***

Jon finds her in the maester's turret the next morning. His greeting smile makes her heart beat a little faster.

Waking up in his arms yesterday made her realize the love she holds for him is not that of a sister for her brother. Daenerys' attempts to make him jealous and his reaction to Ser Jaime ignited a spark of hope in her heart that he might return that love, but she can't allow herself to dream.

"I came to see if there were any important messages," he tells her.

"So did I. Maester Wolkan isn't here yet."

"Perhaps he had other duties to attend to."

When they reach the highest floor, the ravens remain silent however, so she suspects the maester has already fed them. Her attention is drawn by movement in Daenerys' camp and Jon joins her looking out the window.

"They're already breaking up camp," he notes.

"They are."

He frowns. "That group of Dothraki over there is leaving... But they're moving south!"

She realizes he's right. "What is she doing?"

He flexes the fingers of his sword hand. "I'll go and find out."

They meet Maester Wolkan halfway down the stairs.

"Your Grace!" he exclaims. "I was looking for you. This came before dawn."

He hands her a scroll and she moves to the nearest window to read it, Jon leaning over the back of her shoulder. She ignores the pleasant flip of her stomach at his closeness.

The message opens with a salutation to Daenerys, listing all of her titles.

Your Grace,

Dragonstone is under siege. With the small regiment you've left here, we are powerless against the combined forces of the Ironborn and the Golden Company.

Please send aid. Your men do not intend to yield, but they will surely die.

Your loyal servant

Maester Pylos

She grabs Jon's arm, panic and rage twisting her insides. "She's abandoning us!"

He looks down to where she's touching him and covers her hand with his own. "I won't let her!"

***

Daenerys is standing in the middle of the camp, shouting instructions in Dothraki and High Valyrian.

Jon and Brienne jump down from their horses and Brienne helps Sansa dismount. Ghost presses himself into her side and she clasps a handful of his fur in her gloved hand to calm herself.

On the way here they decided Jon should try to talk to Daenerys alone first, so Sansa stays back with her sworn shield and the direwolf as Jon walks over to the Dragon Queen.

They're close enough for her to understand their conversation.

"Are you leaving without saying goodbye?" Jon calls out as he approaches her. It's a good opener.

Daenerys regards him with no sign of emotion on her face. "You would have had the chance if you'd come to my chambers last night."

"You didn't appear to be missing my company," he points out.

"Dragonstone is under siege," she informs him, changing the subject.

He holds up the letter. "So I've heard. That's why you're leaving? You're taking all of your troops and your dragons?"

"It is. I won't call back my armies that have already travelled North. For now."

Sansa can only see his back, but it's enough to see how angry he is. "You're Queen and Protector of the Realm. You can't just walk away from your duty!"

She takes a step forward and Ghost lowers himself into a crouch. "It is my duty to protect my Kingdom against all threats. Cersei Lannister is a threat." She notices Sansa. "And so is she. The North has a Queen of its own. Let her protect its people."

"How many times do I have to tell you Sansa is not your enemy?"

"It doesn't matter," she tells him. "I'm a dragon and I'm tired of playing the games of lesser beasts. I'll take back what is mine with fire and blood."

"So you've made your decision? You're abandoning your people in their hour of greatest need?"

There's surprise on her face at the calmness of his voice, but she nods.

"Fine," he says and Sansa can hear him exhale heavily through his nose. "I won't stop you, but if you leave now, I'll reveal the truth."

She narrows her eyes. "Which truth?"

"You're not the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Sansa can't contain herself any longer. Before Brienne can react she runs to Jon, closing the distance between them. "Jon! No!"

When he glances back at her, his eyes are desperate, but determined. He knows he's taking a risk, but he won't let her change his mind.

He turns to face Daenerys again. "You have a good claim as Rhaegar's sister, but not as good as Rhaegar's son."

"Rhaegar's son is dead," she spits at him. "Murdered by the usurper's dog Tywin Lannister."

"He had another one, by his second wife, Lyanna Stark."

"Impossible," she whispers.

"It had to be kept a secret, for my own safety. We only found out a couple of days ago."

Daenerys' lips part as she puts together the pieces, but then the fire erupts behind her eyes. He's woken the dragon.

"This has been your plan all along... To enlist me in your war, in the hope I'd perish and you could take the Throne from me. I won't give you the satisfaction of an easy victory."

Her nostrils flare and she stalks over to Sansa. "It was your idea, wasn't it? Always scheming behind my back... But you're not as smart as you think you are. You'll never be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!"

Sansa is about a head taller than Daenerys, and when she squares her shoulders and tilts her chin up, the other Queen has to strain her neck to meet her eyes.

"Once I've dealt with the Lannister woman, I'll come back North," she threatens. "If I find any Northerners still left standing in my way, I'll burn them all. And I'll start with you!"

It all happens incredibly fast. There's a flash of white and Sansa stumbles. Then a blood-curdling shriek and a dull thump. When she regains her footing, Daenerys is on her back and the left side of her face is a bloody mess.

Brienne is pulling her back to the horses, but Sansa keeps screaming Jon's name. Somehow she gets up on her horse, tears clouding her vision. She screams until her throat is raw and she can only sob.

She's hardly aware they're riding back to Winterfell, only half registering when the gates are opened and they're allowed through.

Someone helps her from her horse and she's enveloped in a pair of strong arms. A familiar comforting smell of pine, leather and snow fills her nostrils and her body relaxes, breaking down in sobs again.

Jon strokes her hair and his lips are at her ear, whispering: "I'm here, sweet girl, I'm right here."

#jonsa #my fic #undercover lover #not all that glitters is gold

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yournotamillennialstuff-blog · 5 years

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I Finally Watched Game of Thrones: Still Not Entirely Sure What’s Going On

If there’s one thing our generation came of age with, it’s Game of Thrones. We were somewhere around ten and twelve when the show began; much too young to be watching the graphic scenes of nearly every nature imaginable. But that didn’t stop us from binging it the second we could figure out how to stream the episodes without our parent’s consent.

Well, most of us did.

On April 14thof this year, the eighth season of the show began airing on HBO, and it was the only thing people could talk about other than Avengers: Endgame. It was only a matter of time before the conversation found its way into my social circle. As many of my friends began to discuss who they thought would live and die, and which house they thought would take the throne, I remained quiet. I had no idea what they were talking about. Then, inevitably, someone asked what I thought, and I had to admit the bitter truth.

I’d never seen an episode.

And then people were screaming, and I was being yelled at, and my boss even offered me three weeks off from work to watch the entire series (I’m not entirely sure he wasn’t serious).

So, I figured it was high time I gave the show a start. In case you also haven’t seen the series, and (like me) you don’t have HBO, then either start combing the internet for copies of the episodes, or subscribe to HBO Now for $14.99 a month. A little steep, especially since Netflix just upped their prices, but I’ve been told it’s worth it. I managed to find a friend who was willing to share their login with me. Certainly pays to have friends in high places.

Prepare to relive the first season of what’s being called the greatest show of all time (by people I know) through the eyes of someone who went in not knowing a thing (since no one would tell me what the hell this show was about).

If you and I have been living under the same rock for the past eight years, spoilers lie ahead for the first season of Game of Thrones.

The show opens with some guys running through the snow, then one of them gets their head ripped off by a zombie. And this is when I paused the show to text a friend, because if there was one thing I did not expect from this show, it was zombies. One of the guys who lives runs off and is deemed a “deserter,” dooming himself to be beheaded by Ned Stark, who I’m told is one of the good guys, but at this point kind of seems like a jerk. Before dying, the deserter claims the “White Walkers” are back, and no one believes him, including me, because I thought White Walkers were from The Walking Dead, yet another show I haven’t seen.

We meet a whole lot of people in this episode. We meet the Starks (Ned, Kat, Robb, Bran, Sansa, Arya, and some young kid who I didn’t notice until like halfway through the season), plus Jon Snow, who’s kind of a Stark but not because he is actually Ned’s bastard. Oops. Then there’s the Lannister’s who really like each other. Like in a not okay kind of way. There’s Cersei, Jaime, and Tyrion (who’s a dwarf, so the other two don’t seem to like him as much. Just each other. Too much.). Cersei is married to Robert Baratheon, who she doesn’t like, because she likes her brother Jaime (gross gross gross). Cersei has some kids with Robert (cough cough), but the only one who gets screen time in season one is Joffrey, who is (like his mother) the worst.

Then somewhere else entirely are the Targaryen’s. Daenerys and her brother who sucks but who’s name honestly escapes me. I just looked it up, it’s Viserys. I don’t remember them ever saying that, but he marries her off to Khal Drogo, king (Khal?) of the Dothraki, making Daenerys a Khaleesi, which before watching the show was what I thought her name was. Oops.

All of this information pretty much comes from the first episode. Which is why it took me like a day and a half to finish it. I couldn’t keep up and had to keep rewinding. Because there are so many people.

The basic gist of the first season goes like this. The hand of the king (I think?) dies, so Ned Stark has to leave Winterfell and go to King’s Landing because the King, Robert Baratheon, wants him to be the hand of the king. Ned brings his daughters Sansa and Arya with him, leaving Kat with Robb, Bran, and the other child in Winterfell. Robert wants Sansa to marry Joffrey, and Sansa is all for this because I guess she wants to be queen? I never really understood why she wanted anything to do with Joffrey, because he never really displays any redeeming qualities. Arya wants to be a knight, so Ned (who, as it turns out isn’t all that bad, I actually like him a lot) gets someone to teach her to sword fight.

Just before Ned leaves for King’s Landing, Bran sees Cersei and Jamie in a compromising position, so Jaime shoves the damn kid out a window, declaring, “the things I do for love.” Ew. Gross. But, Bran somehow survives, he’ll just never walk again.

Elsewhere while this is all going on, Jon Snow leaves Winterfell as well, following his uncle’s footsteps and joining the Night’s (Knight’s?) Watch. They make it super clear that once you’re in the Night’s Watch you can’t leave; you pledge for life. They literally say this like six times. It was the only thing I knew for sure while watching. I wonder, is it possible, that somewhere down the line Jon is going to try and leave?

Over in Essos (this I learned later, was where Dany and Khal Drogo are), Daenerys is growing to actually maybe love Khal Drogo, and hate her brother, who sucks. She finds her footing as Queen, and eventually, Drogo melts her brother’s face off with molten gold. Dany says her brother didn’t have dragon blood because dragons don’t burn.

What??????

At this point I kind of know what’s going on, then Baratheon declares he wants to kill Dany because Khal knocked her up, and this is pretty much where I pinpoint all hell breaking loose. Somewhere in the mix Kat kidnaps Tyrion because she thinks he tried to kill Bran, so that’s happening.

Ned is against killing Dany, so he tries to leave King’s Landing, and tells the girls the same. Arya is good with it so long as they take her sword fighting teacher with them, but Sansa claims “I supposed to marry Joffrey and give him sons with golden hair!” Way to have your own aspirations, girl. This strikes something in Ned though, because he realizes that Robert and all his descendants had dark hair. So, how did Joffrey end up a blonde? Why, he’s Jaime’s of course!

How the hell did the King never question this?

Everything comes to a head when Robert Baratheon is killed by a boar (um, what?), and Joffrey accuses him of treason for claiming that Joffrey was not the heir to the throne. Sansa begs him to be merciful, which Joffrey agrees to so long as Ned admits he was wrong. Somewhere else, Jon Snow sees a White Walker (they’re real!) and Khal Drogo is lightly scratched, yet somehow is on the brink of death. Dany has a stillborn that might or might not have been a dragon, there was a witch involved, and she suffocates Drogo in a mercy kill.

Arya, who ran away I guess, returns to King’s Landing in time to see her father on trial for treason. Then, Joffrey changes his damn mind about being merciful, and orders his guys to cut off Ned’s head. AND THEY DO.

At this point I’m completely losing it, because SEAN BEAN WAS THE MAIN CHARACTER. I’m super confused and honestly upset, because he was actually a really good dad and guy. And this little twerp just kills him. Then shows Sansa, who he’s supposed to marry, his severed head.

What a guy. Still want to give him babies with golden hair?

Arya goes off and pretends to be a guy with I guess the Night’s Watch, with some guy named Gendry who is King Robert’s bastard (but I don’t think he knows that). Sansa is kind of at this point I guess being forced to marry Joffrey, but Robb is on a mission to save them. He ends up capturing Jaime. So that’s a win. Shocker, Jon tries to leave the Night’s Watch, but ends up going back. A whole long road to get nowhere.

The season ends with Dany walking through fire and then when the dust settles, suddenly she has three dragons.

Three. Freaking. Dragons.

What?????

And thus ends season one of Game of Thrones. Honestly, I can see the appeal of the show. I found it really entertaining, but in no way easy to watch. Not because of the highly graphic scenes, but just because unless you’re really paying attention, it’s hard to follow. I kind of understand why no one would tell me what the show was about. Without doing what I just did and summarizing all the houses and who’s doing what, it’s hard to say exactly what this show is about. I was super confused for the first forty percent of the season, and by the end I was confused again. Although, I’m starting to see that this might be the appeal.

It certainly leaves room for debate, and I have a feeling every moment on screen is deliberate. If you go back to episode one, you notice Dany walking into a near boiling bath, the maid warning her not to go in because the water is too hot. She later holds a burning egg and isn’t branded by the scales like her servant is. All of this foreshadows the fact that she can literally walk through fire in the last episode and be unaffected. Something to do with having dragon blood, like they thought her brother did?

After watching the first season I can say for sure I’ll keep watching, because this show leaves you wanting to know all the answers. It may take eight seasons to get there, but I’m sure it will be worth it. I can see why this show has defined this generation, and why everyone is talking about it. I’ll be slightly off the grid for the next month while I finish the series. Until then, I’ll avoid the internet in fear of spoilers.

#got #got spoilers #got season one #game of thrones

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girlygameofthrones · 8 years

Text

Learning to Read

Pairing: Tywin x (daughter) Reader, Tyrion x (sister) reader

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Warnings: None…but it’s my first and it’s a little long… Eh, Tywin may be a little OOC.

Summary: You are the youngest Lannister daughter and are struggling with your reading, so you get help from your brother, Tyrion. Reader is six years old. Mostly fluff.

Word Count: 3,582

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Tywin

Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, and previous Hand of the King sat in his study, pouring over documents and filling in signatures. He hadn’t gotten any sleep the past few days, mainly because the fools of the Eyrie didn’t know how to strike a proper bargain. Lord Tywin had never liked the Lady Arryn but while her husband, the true Lord of the Eyrie was away, he was forced to make political agreements and meet her terms.

There was a knock on the door, and he looked up, frowning. Everyone knew not to disturb him when he worked on his documents. It was either something important or a rather stupid servant. He called for them to open the door.

The servant that stood before him was young and broad-chested. He’d probably make a good soldier in a few years, but Tywin never took the time to learn his servants’ names. This boy was no different. He swallowed, and Tywin raised an eyebrow.

“My lord,” the servant began. Then he stopped talking.

“Yes?” Tywin said, looking straight at him. “You came into my study during a critical time, clearly you have something to tell me.”

Tywin could see the boy swallow away the lump in his throat. His fingers drummed the desk, and he glanced at the tower of documents at the table.

“My lord, it’s about your daughter,” the boy said, and Tywin’s attention was automatically caught. The boy couldn’t tell this though, for Tywin kept his same stoic expression. “The Septas have been looking for her, but she seems to have disappeared. They say she’s not doing well in her lessons and that she’s struggling with her reading.”

Tywin’s face hardened, remembering a similar experience with his eldest son, Jaime.

“Very well, you are dismissed,” Lord Tywin said to the boy.

He nodded and fled the room. Tywin looked over at the documents. Y/N, his daughter, would have to wait until he finished the bulk of these. He had a pretty good idea where she was hiding. The girl had never been too good at keeping secrets.

As Tywin worked, he mused on his daughter. He thought that his late wife was finished giving birth when she gave birth to Tyrion, but Y/N had come more than a decade later, a pleasant surprise for all of them. Tywin hadn’t expected to be a father again, and he worried for his wife, that her body couldn’t handle it, but she had given birth to a healthy daughter. His wife had named her Y/N, though Tywin had wanted to name her after an ancestor. Lady Joanna had insisted on Y/N though, so they went with that.

Tywin finished up his paperwork and left his office, ignoring the bowing servants and “milord”s as he walked through the stronghold. He left the castle and went through the gardens. Since he had told Y/N that her mother had loved the gardens, they had become her favorite place. Sure enough, he saw her seated on a bench below one of the larger trees.

He cleared his throat loudly, and she turned to look at him with those striking emerald eyes –Joanna’s eyes. His daughter was only six and as gentle as a hummingbird. Her long golden hair splashed down her back. Of all his children, she looked the most like her mother.

It was as if the child realized the danger she was in with her father’s arrival. She jumped to her feet, smoothed her dress and curtsied before him.

“Good afternoon, father,” she said with all the bearing of a lady at court. She knew her courtesies well.

“Why aren’t you in your lesson, Y/N?” he asked, cutting to the point. It was true he was probably softer with her than his other children, but that was only because she hadn’t caused him nearly as much grief. When a child misbehaved though, it was a father’s duty to correct that child.

“I don’t like the septa,” Y/N said. “She’s boring.”

“I don’t care if you like the septa. You’re learning to read. Children outside these walls don’t get that opportunity. Someday you will thank me for everything I’ve done for you,” he said. “Let go of your pride and do your lesson. The house that puts the family’s name before its own selfish whims –“

“Will be the house that history remembers,” she finished for him. She glared up at him. “I just don’t like reading. I’m not good at it, and I can’t do it. No matter how hard I try, I don’t understand the letters.”

“You are not working hard enough,” he said.

“I spent two hours looking at the same page, and when the septa asked me to read aloud, I couldn’t do it,” she argued. The girl definitely had spunk. A Lannister needed that to get along in the world, but she needed to learn there were better times than others for it. “All I do is stare at the page. I know the letters. I see the septa write them, and I can go through the alphabet. The septa says my penmanship is wonderful, but when I have to read a word, the letters move around on the page and I can’t make any sense of them!”

Tywin nodded, and she was quiet. He had dealt with this before.

“Your brother Jaime was the same way,” he said. “The maesters told me that he also mixed up the letters on the page. Yes…I wondered if this would happen again.”

“And how did Jaime learn to read?” Y/N asked.

A determined look flashed across Tywin’s face.

“I sat him down with the maester four hours each day,” he said. “Which is exactly what I’ll do with you.”

“Father!” Y/N cried.

“Silence!” He cut her off. “Remember your courtesies, young lady. You will thank me for this. A Lannister needs to know how to read! Jaime was angry with me too, but now he can read!”

“But four hours!” The girl looked close to tears, and for a rare moment, Tywin did feel something tear at his heart, but he was determined.

“A lady doesn’t say ‘but’,” he said. It was something that Joanna used to say to Cersei when she argued with her. “Go back to your lesson now. I shall speak with your septa about the changes in your scholarly pursuits.”

Y/N’s pink lips quivered for a moment, and then she curtsied before her father and ran off. Tywin watched her go, slightly amused, but slightly angry at her behavior. Cersei had been much more rebellious, so he at least should have been grateful that he didn’t have to deal with that. He didn’t particularly like upsetting his daughter, though. She was the last thing of Joanna he had, and he was determined to give her the best life he could.

Being a father as well as a lord could be difficult at times.

Reader

At the end of your lesson, you were fuming at the septa. Your head pounded and your eyes were sore from constantly staring at the page. You offered a short and stiff curtsy and then left as soon as the lesson ended. You never wanted to see your septa ever again. In fact, you would run away from the Rock and make your father miss you so much that he would find you. That would really show him.

You loved your father like none other, but he could be stiff at times. He was the proud lord lion of Casterly Rock, you reminded yourself. He was held to different standards than the small folk. Jaime supposedly had the same problem with words that you had, but Jaime got to run around and play with a sword, and then he got to be a knight. Why did it matter if you could or couldn’t read? Your father would wed you to a handsome lord when you were older, and you’d raise the babies while your lord husband signed important papers.

In your room, you tried to forget all about your lesson by combing through one of your dolls’ hair. The door opened and your father entered; the brush you used on the doll stopped halfway through its silk hair.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“The septa told me that you needed to study outside of your lessons,” he said firmly. “Where are your books?”

“I just got out of my lesson! I need a break!” You cried.

“Your mind is sharpest right after a lesson,” he said. “Do you want to learn to read or not?”

“I don’t want to learn!” You snapped.

You had crossed a line, and you knew it. Your father’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You will read those books, Y/N, and I won’t ask you again,” he said in a low voice.

You shrunk back, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape your eyes. You hated disappointing your father; he was your hero, but he just didn’t understand how hard it was for you to read! You watched as he left the room. You didn’t move for a moment, and when he was gone, you threw your doll against the wall.

You picked up the book and tried to read it, determined to show your father, but the more you looked at it, the worse your headache got and you found you just couldn’t do it.

You woke up with your face on the book. You panicked slightly, aware that that was not proper for a lady. By the sky outside your window, you knew it wasn’t time for supper yet. You sighed with relief. Then you picked up the book. You didn’t want to visit the septa, but maybe if you just studied for many hours at once, she could get it all done and over with. Hugging the book, you stomped past your broken doll and out the room.

Every step taken was tortuous. You really, really did not want to see the septa. What did that old lady know anyways? Why couldn’t your father give you a fun teacher? Maesters were always more fun than septas.

“Sister,” a deep voice suddenly rang in your ears. “Does father know that you are wandering the Rock by yourself?”

Your heart stopped. You turned and saw your older brother, Tyrion, standing there. Even though he grinned at you, you felt a shiver pass up your spine. She had always been more than a little frightened of him.

Tyrion wasn’t like Jaime or Cersei. He was only slightly taller than you, but whereas you were six, he was a man. His hair was as blonde as yours and his eyes as green, but his forehead was too big, and his arms and legs were too short. He wasn’t handsome in the least, and Cersei had told you that Tyrion had killed your mother. Jaime had insisted it wasn’t true, but Cersei said that Tyrion had forced mother to care for him when he had a contagious illness, and she had died for it. You hadn’t even been a year old, and because of that you didn’t have a mother.

“He’s a monster, Y/N, and monsters don’t show remorse,” Cersei had said to you.

You stared at your brother, fingers clutching the book. You wanted to run, but you knew you needed to be brave. He wasn’t really a monster. He was frightening, but he was still your big brother. Jaime got along with Tyrion after all.

“I’m going to the septa,” you said shortly. “I’m learning to read.”

“Are you mixing up the letters on the page?” Tyrion asked in a dry tone.

“Um…” How did he know that was your problem? “Yes…”

“Just like Jaime, or so I hear,” he said. “Don’t go to the septa. She’ll bore you to tears with her lessons. It looks like she already has.”

“I have to learn to read so father will be happy,” you snapped, embarrassed.

“Yes, we must keep father happy,” Tyrion said.

“I need to go,” you said.

When you turned away, Tyrion suddenly touched your arm. You froze, remembering what Cersei had told you. Tyrion looked kind of funny, but could he really be a monster? What if you died because he touched you? Maybe that’s why your mother had died!

“B-brother,” you stammered, voice squeaking.

“I’ll teach you to read,” he said. “I’ve read a lot, and I’ve even stumbled on some of the histories of Casterly Rock that recorded other children with the same problems you were having.”

“Father wants me to study with the septa,” you replied weakly.

“Father wants you to learn how to read,” he said. “Do you want to please father?”

You nodded meekly, and he smiled.

“Then follow me,” he said.

Your heart sank, and you imagined for a moment a maiden following a dragon into its lair. Tyrion was no dragon; he was too small, but you couldn’t help but be scared regardless. You frowned. Lannisters didn’t get scared. You would learn how to read no matter what.

On the way to Tyrion’s chambers, he actually talked to you.

“Father rarely lets you see me,” he said. “I remember when you were born. I’ve never seen father smile like that before. I suppose after me, you were everything he could have asked for. You were a beautiful babe, and it looks to me like you’ve grown to be a beautiful girl. You have mother’s features.”

How could he talk so easily of mother? Didn’t he feel guilty?

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Father keeps me in lessons most the time.”

“And apart from the reading, how are those going? Do you understand the laws of the land and the science? I hated learning about the agriculture personally,” he said.

Before you could think, you said: “I do too. I hate that part.” You suddenly shut your mouth. Had you just agreed with your brother?

“Ah, here we go,” Tyrion said. “My room. We shouldn’t be in here too long, but I’ll teach you more than the septas will.”

“With magic?” You asked.

Tyrion snorted.

“What do you think I am? An imp with magical powers! Is that what Cersei told you?” he asked. Cersei had never said that, but you couldn’t help but imagine it. “No, if I knew magic, I’d make myself as tall as Jaime. No, we’re going to learn the old fashioned way.”

“I won’t learn to read by supper?” You asked faintly.

“I’m afraid not,” he said. “You’ll have to come back each day, but I promise you I will make it much more painless than the septa’s ramblings. You’ll be reading in no time.”

And then he pulled out a seat for you at his desk and took the book from you. He laid it on the table, and a devilish smirk appeared on his face.

“Let’s begin,” he said, and you sat down, feeling your hands and feet shake.

XXXXX

You had been visiting Tyrion in secret for a week. You were never told to stay away from your brother, but father also made a point of keeping you as far away from him as possible. With Tyrion as your teacher, you were able to see improvements you never thought possible. Even the septa praised you when you actually read two sentences aloud and only had to pause a few times. Tyrion didn’t use magic, but he may as well have.

What really confused you though was that you were actually starting to like your brother. What would Cersei say? Perhaps Jaime would be happy for you. Tyrion was kind to you and very patient when you made mistakes. He was constantly egging you on, but in a way that showed he really cared.

“You know this word,” he said as you hovered over the same word for over a minute. “You can do it…”

“D…R…G… No, that’s not right.” The letters were moving again. “D…R…A….Dragon!”

Tyrion applauded you, and you blushed. You then read the sentence aloud:

“Aegon I Targaryen rode on the dragon Balerion in the War of Conquest!” Your voice went up a notch at the end, and again Tyrion applauded you.

“Wonderful!” He said. “Wonderful! Can you read the next sentence?”

“Aegon’s sister-wife…V…Vis…Visenya mounted Vhagar as her steed.” You glanced up at Tyrion, praying you’d gotten the sentence right, and by his smile, you knew you had. “I did it! I’m learning to read, Tyrion! You’re the best!”

You kept improving, and you actually sought out books to try and read. Most of them you couldn’t, but you could understand a lot more than you could before. Four days later, you were in yet another lesson with Tyrion. He no longer frightened you, and Cersei’s words seem to fade.

You had finally reached the part in your heavy book that spoke of House Lannister.

“Lord Tytos Lannister was the eldest of four. He was named heir in 236 AC of Casterly Rock…” your eyes skimmed the page. Then you gasped. “Jason Lannister!”

“Hmm?” Tyrion asked.

“Jason Lannister was Tytos’s younger brother. Tytos was our grandfather! Jason was our other grandfather! He was mother’s father!” You cried. “Mother and father were cousins?”

“I thought you knew that,” Tyrion said. “Besides, cousins are one thing, but the Targaryens married their brothers and sisters for centuries.”

“It’s like how Cersei wants to marry Jaime,” you said.

“Y-Y/N …” Tyrion winced. “I don’t know how you know that, but you mustn’t say a word to father.”

You stared at the page and your finger found Lady Joanna’s name.

“What was mother like?” You whispered.

Tyrion froze and didn’t answer immediately. Then he swallowed, and he smiled in a way that made him as handsome as Jaime.

“She was beautiful,” Tyrion said. “She was my best friend, my champion. She was always encouraging me to be better, and when I cried, she held me.” He looked out the window, and you watched him intently. “When I learned that dragons had gone extinct, I was a mess. I cried myself to sleep…but when I woke up, mother was holding me in her arms and telling me everything would be alright. She had a beautiful voice too…”

“Cersei said mother died while taking care of you,” you whispered.

Tyrion looked down at his hands.

“That’s true,” he breathed. “I was probably old enough to not need my mommy, but I begged the maesters to let me see her, and she came right away and cared for me. She stayed by my side all night…and then…it was all so sudden…she was gone.”

Tyrion was a man, but his lip trembled like a child’s. He didn’t blink, like he was determined not to let the tears come. He was always so carefree, sarcastic, and witty. You had never seen this side of him before.

You reached under the table and held his stubby hand.

“Thank you for telling me about mother,” you whispered.

XXXXX

You found yourself outside your father’s study. He would be finished with his paperwork in any moment. You waited there, going over again and again Tyrion’s cheers in your mind. The door opened, and Tywin stared down at you. You drew yourself up as tall as could be, but he still towered over you.

“Do you need something, Y/N?” he asked.

You nodded, but didn’t answer. Without a word, you strode right inside his study. You heard you father sigh behind you and follow.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked you. “Have you finished your studies today?” You reached up and took the first bit of parchment off the stack. “Careful, Y/N, those are important documents. They can’t be lost –“

“Lord Randyll Tarly…Lord of House Tarly…To whom it may concern…We are in the process of building a bridge to help ensure our grains come quicker to the capital.” You looked up from the sentence and hid your smile. Then you continued, and you read the entire letter out loud to your father.

When you finished, Tywin actually laughed, and you felt your cheeks go red. You loved it when you pleased her father. You had seen his smile more times than you could count, but you rarely heard a laugh.

“You see, Y/N? You are a Lannister! You always had it in you!” He said. “You’ve got quite the attitude, but I’m proud of you. Keep up the good work.” He touched your face but didn’t embrace you. He was still a lord after all. “Come now, supper is waiting for us.”

You beamed at him, and they headed to the dining hall together.

After supper, you returned to Tyrion. You still had much farther to go, and the letters still got jumbled, but you were determined to work hard. You recounted the story to Tyrion, and he laughed first and then congratulated you. Then he hugged you.

Once again you found yourself pouring over the book. You finished reading the paragraph aloud and looked up at Tyrion. He was absent-mindedly playing with an ink bottle.

“Um…I have a question,” you said.

“Ask away,” Tyrion urged you.

“Well, it’s just about something that Cersei said. She said that you spent most your time in brothels and that you had…what were the words she used? …An appetite for whores,” you began. “Tyrion, what’s a brothel? And what’s a whore?”

The ink bottle suddenly slipped from his fat fingers and shattered all over the floor.

#game of thrones imagine #got imagines #got fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #lannister reader #self insert #game of thrones self insert

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anoldwound · 7 years

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with one hand, i’m steel - Jaime/Brienne [ASOIAF]

Title: with one hand, i'm steel Characters/Pairings: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth Rating: R Word Count: ~3900 Warnings: Sexual content, language, mild violence. Summary: “It's only normal that you're not going to be as adept with your left hand; you've used your right hand your whole life! Do you think you can just casually re-learn everything you spent your entire life doing the opposite way?” Brienne helps Jaime learn to fight without his sword hand. Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, and neither does the world they inhabit. A/N: This is part of the Made of Steel series, but can be read as a stand-alone fic. And I still haven't read A Dance With Dragons yet, so my apologies if there are any inconsistencies. Spoilers ahead for all of the books. (also at AO3) She was no longer the Maid of Tarth. Brienne, Jaime, and Pod had taken refuge under a willow tree as the storm started to slow. Pod was emptying the snow out of his shoes, as Jaime shook it out of his hair. Brienne just leaned against the trunk and watched. It was still so surreal, everything that had occurred up until this moment. Their escape from the Brotherhood, her shouted promise to Lady Stoneheart as she'd climbed atop her horse and galloped away. Finding Jaime, Pod, and Ser Hyle underneath a tree just like this one. Jaime's face when he had seen she was still alive. And later, at the inn, unspoken realizations and – most unbelievable of all – losing her maidenhead to the Kingslayer. But it didn't feel as though she had “lost” anything. She had heard so many tales of such intense pain, roughness, and blood from her septas and other women, and while it had certainly not been very comfortable, it was nothing compared to Jaime and his fingers, touching and caressing. His lips, soft against hers, beard scratching her chin. Her heart swelled, and she brushed her hand against her mouth absent-mindedly at the memory. She could hardly wait for it to happen again – that is, if he still even wanted to. She was finding it difficult to fathom that he was... well, feeling what she was feeling. Even though he had literally thrown Ser Hyle out of the inn after finding out about his participation in the contest to take her virginity. Even though they had made love twice the night before. Part of her still believed it to be part of some kind of elaborate joke. “Should we get moving, ser? My lady?” Pod asked. His shoes had been emptied, and he was hastily strapping them back on his feet. “Oh, yes, that reminds me,” said Jaime. “Brienne, may I borrow Oathkeeper for a moment?” “What? Why?” “I just want to see it.” His good hand was extended towards her. He's not going to take it away, is he? Brienne reluctantly removed her sword from its sheath and placed it in his hand. The Valyrian steel seemed even more beautiful in Jaime's grasp, his bright green eyes examining it closely. “Please kneel,” Jaime said, his eyes meeting hers. “Excuse me?” “Kneel, Brienne.” He held the sword across his golden fist. Utterly perplexed, she asked, “Why?” “Just do it.” When she continued to stand stupidly in front of him, he groaned and said, “Gods, Brienne, I'm trying to knight you.” Is he serious? Yes, she could not doubt it. He was looking at her expectantly, a hint of exasperation in his handsome features. Almost as though beyond her will, her knee fell to the snow, her head bowed. As his sword – her sword – touched her right shoulder, then her left, she struggled to hold back the tears of joy she knew could escape at a moment's notice. Was this really happening? This was nearly better than last night... in some ways, it was better. This is everything I ever wanted, and all at once. “I, Jaime Lannister, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and Warden of the East, do hereby name you Ser Brienne of Tarth, from this day until your last day. Do you swear by the Seven to uphold the laws of the Seven Kingdoms, to honor your family, to honor your king, and to bring glory to his name? To protect the weak and the innocent? To die with a sword in your hand?” “I swear.” Her voice was quivering. “Then rise.” Brienne shakily stood to her feet, overwhelmed to her bones. Jaime presented Oathkeeper to her, bowing deeply. She took it back and clumsily slid it back into its sheath. “Jaime,” she said, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes, despite her best efforts. “Thank you. Thank you.” “Come now, knights don't cry.” But he was grinning. “Can you... can you do that, though?” Pod asked. He looked amazed. “Make a woman a knight?” “I can do as I please,” Jaime replied. Unable to contain herself any longer, Brienne threw her arms around him so forcefully they both fell back a little. Jaime laughed and hugged her back, and for a moment nuzzled his beard against the crook of her neck, before removing himself from her grip. “I should've done it ages ago,” he said. He was still holding onto her shoulders, and he was looking at her with such affection that Brienne felt a rush of warmth throughout her whole body. “If I'd had any sense, anyway.” Pod coughed loudly, and they sprang apart as though struck by lightning. “I guess we should, uh, be going, huh?” Pod was smiling at them so widely Brienne was surprised his mouth did not extend past his face. “I suppose so.” She looked up, the flurries of snowflakes still falling from the sky. “The question is, where?” “Where were you headed originally?” Jaime asked. “Riverrun.” “Well, Sansa Stark is most definitely not there,” he said. “Or, if she was, she has somehow managed to change her appearance entirely, including her face, which I find somewhat difficult to believe. Is there anywhere else you were going to try?” “We were going to go to the Vale at first,” Brienne said. “But Lady Lysa has been killed. It's unlikely that Sansa would have taken refuge there with her aunt dead.” “Perhaps.” He looked thoughtful, but said no more. “Shall we set for Winterfell, ser? My Lady? I mean, Ser?” “It seems that's the only place left to search. At least until we find another lead.” She turned to Jaime. “What do you think?” He didn't say anything for a moment. “Winterfell is burned to the ground. Sansa knows this. I find it far more likely that she's in the Vale than there. When she escaped the castle, Lady Lysa had not yet met her fate through the Moon Door. It's possible Sansa got there before this occurred, and is there still, maybe even under an alias, in order to allay suspicion.” She had to admit that this made a lot of sense, and felt like an imbecile for not thinking of it earlier. “So, the Eyrie, then?” “Yes,” Jaime said. “It's the best thing we've got to go on at the moment... until, as you said, we find a new lead.” “Are you sure you're... do you want... doesn't the king need you? Or... the queen? Your sister?” Brienne stumbled over her words, a tremor in her hands. Jaime's gaze turned cool, though she was reasonably certain the coldness was not meant for her. “Tommen shall get on fine without me, for the moment. As for my sister...” He turned away, his shoulders stiff. “I couldn't care less what she needs and doesn't need.” “Oh. Okay.” What did he mean? Was it possible that... no, she was being stupid. Who would choose Brienne the “Beauty” over the actual, legendarily beautiful Cersei Lannister? If she looks at all like her brother, she must be something to behold indeed. Wait, was she really in a situation where she was in romantic competition with her lover's sister? What in the world was her life? She tried not to think about it any further as they gathered their belongings (sans the horse, which Ser Hyle had taken when ejected from their group), and began their trek to the Eyrie. There was no time to linger on such matters. Their journey was to be a long and perilous one, especially now that winter had come, and there were more important things at stake than if Jaime Lannister would rather be with her, or the queen (his sister). It certainly didn't feel less important, though. * * * It was twilight when they approached another inn. It was a larger one than the last, but just as deserted. “Not a lot of travelers on the roads these days,” Jaime observed. “Can't blame them.” The war was really taking its toll on Westeros' population. She could only hope it would end soon, before the winter's frost became even worse. Who knew how many more lives would be lost if this war continued to drag on? She almost didn't care who won at this point. As long as it wasn't Stannis. I will still get my revenge, one day, she vowed to herself. The trio went inside, the large oak door swinging shut loudly behind them – or perhaps it only seemed so loud because the place was completely bereft of people, save for a small woman behind the bar and a man sharpening an axe by a window coated with snow. The pair immediately rushed towards them and chattered greetings as they ushered them further inside. Jaime tossed them a few coins, much to their apparent joy, and they pulled out seats at a dining table for them. “We'll get a meal for you folks right away,” the woman promised, and followed the man into the back. “This is a nice inn,” Pod said, and Brienne agreed. The ceiling was incredibly high, and a beautiful wooden chandelier hung from its rafters. Small, clear jewels dangled from the ends. The tables and floors were made of a rich mahogany, and the carpets were a lush red. The only ugly sight in the place were the piles of dust. This inn must have been for lords and other nobles at one point. Everyone had fallen on hard times, it seemed. “Excuse me,” Jaime asked the man, who had just emerged from the kitchens, “would you happen to have a practice yard here?” “We do, m'lord. Over by the stables.” “Perfect.” He turned to Brienne. “I'll need your assistance after dinner.” “With what?” “Ser Illyn Payne was helping me – well, that is to say, attempting to help me learn to fight with my left hand. I'd like for you to take over this duty of his, since he is no longer here. If it pleases you, of course.” “I'd be honored.” She wasn't sure how much help she could be – she'd never attempted sword-fighting with the wrong hand, and didn't know how to go about teaching him – but if Jaime wanted her to aid him, she would try in every way she possibly could. After a filling dinner of salted cod and potatoes, with just a little red wine (which Jaime had accidentally spilled on the carpet, but everyone except her pretended not to notice), Pod went up to his chambers while Brienne and Jaime headed out to the practice yard. It was darker out now, and the smell of horse dung clung to the air. She wrinkled her nose at the foul odor. At least the snow had finally stopped. Jaime had outfitted himself with his shield on his right arm and his sword in his left hand. It didn't look natural. He seemed ungainly and awkward. Perhaps he's better with his sword than he looks. She hoped so. They both stood ready. “On my count,” Jaime said. “One... two... three!” Immediately Brienne could see that Jaime was not the fighter that he had once been. His swings were messy and inaccurate, he was unable to block her attacks effectively, and he constantly moved in the wrong direction. She was barely trying and she was giving him a hell of a beating. She decided to change tactics, just to see if he could fight at all. She switched to merely dodging and blocking his sword as opposed to being on the offense. He was still terrible. He only managed to make contact with her once, and that was because she had stumbled over a sudden slope in the terrain. This is pathetic, she thought, and instantly felt awful for thinking it, but it was still true. Sweat had gathered on Jaime's forehead, a heavy and determined glare fixed on his face. She found herself feeling such profound pity for him that she simply stood as he hacked away at her armor. “Why aren't you fighting back?!” he demanded. His sword slammed against her leg, but she hardly felt it. “Don't just stand there! Give me your best!” If I gave you my best, you would be dead. But she went back to slashing at him anyway, and could practically feel her heart break as Jaime tried and tried and tried but was unable to fend her off. This was not the man who had fought her so well at the creek that, had he not been in chains, might have managed to beat her. Brienne could not imagine what he was going through. To be incapable of... he was just as much of a knight and fighter as she was. They both lived and breathed swordplay. She knew that he, too, was only truly alive with steel in his hand and an enemy's throat against his blade. His blood rushing in his ears and coursing through his veins. It was clear he would never be able to feel that way again. So much time passed. The moon was high and gleaming in the night sky, which was littered with stars. They were both panting, Jaime even more so, clearly exhausted. His armor was scratched to the seven hells and back, while Brienne was no worse for the wear. “This is pointless,” she said, doubled over from tiredness. She cast her sword to the side. “Pointless?” He looked so hurt and angry that it cut deeper than his sword had. “It's pointless?” “I'm sorry, Jaime,” she said, and she was. “I don't think... you're not going to be able to do this right away. You would need years of training, and that's time we don't – ” Jaime barked with cruel laughter, and threw his own sword onto the ground. It bounced and landed by the horses. “I see, wench, I see. I'm just a hopeless cause, am I? A helpless little cub? Gods, I should never have knighted you. You can't even teach a man to swing a sword!” “You're not being fair,” Brienne snapped. “It's only normal that you're not going to be as adept with your left hand; you've used your right hand your whole life! Do you think you can just casually re-learn everything you spent your entire life doing the opposite way?” But Jaime wasn't listening. He had sprinted over to the fence, which he was now pummeling like mad with his golden hand, wood splintering everywhere. Brienne watched as he punched and punched and punched, and battered the fence with his shield over and over, until finally the fence collapsed. Her brows furrowed. Huh. Jaime stumbled backward. His shield dropped onto the dirt, and he stood as though dazed and in a dream. Brienne approached him slowly, and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Jaime?” “I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “I shouldn't have... it's not your fault. I apologize.” He sighed heavily and ran his hand through his beard. “You were right. It is pointless. Just... forget it. Forget I ever asked you to do this.” She bit her lip as he picked up his shield. His shield... “Wait,” she said, and he froze, bent over and looking up at her, his shield in his left hand. “Stand up.” Jaime obeyed, though he looked confused. “Stay there,” she ordered, and jogged over to where she had thrown her sword. She picked it up and stood in a fighting stance. “Okay. Let's go again.” “...Are you mocking me? I just told you that you were right! I'm bloody useless with a sword, okay?” “So don't use the sword,” she said. Jaime blinked. “What?” “Don't use the sword.” Brienne shifted her legs and beckoned him over. “And how, exactly, do you suggest I fight you without a sword? Do you expect me to just use my – ” Finally, he understood what she was saying. She grinned at him. “Are you going to finish what you started or not?” He didn't move for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, he was charging at her, shield held in front of him. She sliced at it, and as she did so he sprung to the right, and his gold hand hit her so hard in the side that she nearly fell over. That thing packed a hell of a punch! Before she could get her bearings, Jaime was bashing her with his shield, and striking her in the back with his hand. She was kneeling on the ground now, and she swung her sword up at him again, but he blocked it once more. She stood up, assailing him with fury, but he was blocking almost all of her attacks. She moved in, he moved out, nimble on his feet and quick. This was the Jaime Lannister she remembered. They continued for some time, and it seemed to Brienne that Jaime was charged with a new life. It was apparent from his toothy smile and flushed face that he could do this for hours. Brienne, however, could not. She had gotten very little sleep as it was, and it was nearly dawn. “I yield, I yield!” she cried, throwing her arms in the air. She was breathing so hard, it was like she could not get enough air in her lungs. Jaime, however, didn't seem even a little tired anymore. “Aw, come now, Brienne!” He poked at her gently with the bottom of his shield. “We could go for a little while longer.” “Maybe you can,” she said. “But I can't.” Jaime pouted, but stopped. “Oh, fine.” He paused. “Do you really think... can I really fight like this? No sword, just a shield and a fake hand?” “You already are. And with a lot of practice, you could probably take on the Mountain if you wanted.” “Except Gregor Clegane is dead, but let's ignore that little detail.” Beaming, and with a strange look in his eye, he walked over and stood almost right up against her, and Brienne felt herself stir below. “I want you. Now.” “What? Here?” Brienne's cheeks grew hot. “Yes, here.” Jaime tossed his shield aside and pulled her closer to him. “Don't tell me you're not all riled up. I can see it, plain as day on your face.” He wasn't wrong, but she didn't want to tell him that. “It's almost morning. We've been training all night. And we're outside.” “I don't care. I want you.” His eyes drank her in, his lips slightly parted, and Brienne was about to brim over. Oh, what the hell. “You have me,” she said. She was too weary to do much of anything, so she allowed him to be the one take off both of their armor, and kiss her, and touch her, and slide his fingers in all of the places that made her shudder and moan and feel as though she were on fire. He was inside her, and on top of her, nearly crushing her, but she liked being crushed a little. Her back scraped against the ground as he thrust and grunted. She idly ran her fingers through his hair and held tight to him. Everything was aligned and synchronized, and her skin sang and sang and sang. When it was over, Jaime curled up against her, and she wrapped her arms around him. They took in the sun coming over the horizon, orange and warm. “What would I be without you, I wonder?” he murmured into her ear. “You would probably still have both of your hands,” she quipped. Jaime laughed softly, but then his voice became serious. “I'm not usually one for believing in fate and destiny and all of that nonsense, but... everything in our lives led us to each other. Do you ever think about that? How if even the slightest thing had changed... if I had been at the Trident, instead of leading the attack against Riverrun, and my father was the one captured by Robb Stark. If you had never fallen for Lord Renly, and never joined his Kingsguard. Hell, if I hadn't pushed the Stark boy out of the window, even. Everything else had to happen, for this to happen. Even losing my hand.” Brienne pondered his words for a long time. She hardly knew what to say. He didn't seem to expect her to say anything, however, and she felt him falling asleep in her embrace. She soon followed. * * * They awoke at noon to the sight of the innkeepers and Pod gaping at them from across the yard. “Oops,” Jaime said, as Brienne hastily covered herself. Their weapons and armor were scattered around them in a heap. “Good morning!” “Good afternoon,” the woman corrected. “Yes, of course.” Jaime yanked his undershirt on over his head as Brienne pulled the rest of her plainclothes on and began picking up their things. “So sorry for the mess. The horses didn't seem to mind, though.” The woman just laughed, while the man shook his head in disapproval and went back inside. “I'm sorry you had to see that,” Brienne said to Pod, who was walking over now that they were both at least somewhat dressed. “We should've been more discreet.” She threw Jaime a pointed look. “Oh, I'm tired of being discreet,” Jaime complained, wiping the dirt off of his breeches as he stood up. “It's such a relief to not have to worry so much about being caught.” “Remember, you're still Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,” she said. She needed to remind herself, too, before she got carried away. His face grew somber. “I know.” The three of them ate their lunch – well, Jaime and Brienne broke their fast – and before long they were ready to set out again. But not before Jaime purchased three of the horses from the stable. “Should make it easier,” he said. “Oh, and since you're a knight now, we can officially make Pod your squire.” A knight. She had almost forgotten. It still didn't seem real. None of this did. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to jump out of the bushes and start pointing and laughing at her because she fell for it. “I am still Tyrion Lannister's squire,” Pod said defiantly. “But... until I find him... I guess I can be your squire too, Ser Brienne.” “Ser Brienne.” She rolled the name around her tongue. “I think we're going to have to come up with a different title for lady knights.” They climbed onto their horses – Brienne's a white one with a black mane, Pod's a sturdy brown, and Jaime's a majestic black beauty. “We should have a new shield forged for you,” Brienne said to Jaime as they trotted down the cobblestone path. “One made of the finest steel, and sharp on the edges. Perhaps even with spikes, or the like.” “A new shield? Why?” Pod looked at them curiously. “Brienne has invented a new fighting style for me,” Jaime explained. “Apparently now I am going to use my shield as a weapon.” “And your golden hand,” she reminded him. “Yes, that too. It doesn't sound like an effective fighting technique, but it works surprisingly well.” “I should like to see that,” Pod said. “Maybe later.” Brienne clutched tightly onto her reins. Everything felt like it was going to float away, or be snatched from her at any moment. She had seen too much to still think that fairytale endings were possible, especially not for the likes of her and Jaime Lannister. But she could still enjoy herself while it lasted.

#fandom: asoiaf #ship: jaime/brienne

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readbookywooks · 8 years

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Tyrion

The queen intends to send Prince Tommen away." They knelt alone in the hushed dimness of the sept, surrounded by shadows and flickering candles, but even so Lancel kept his voice low. "Lord Gyles will take him to Rosby, and conceal him there in the guise of a page. They plan to darken his hair and tell everyone that he is the son of a hedge knight."

"Is it the mob she fears? Or me?"

"Both," said Lancel.

"Ah." Tyrion had known nothing of this ploy. Had Varys's little birds failed him for once? Even spiders must nod, he supposed . . . or was the eunuch playing a deeper and more subtle game than he knew? "You have my thanks, ser."

"Will you grant me the boon I asked of you?"

"Perhaps." Lancel wanted his own command in the next battle. A splendid way to die before he finished growing that mustache, but young knights always think themselves invincible.

Tyrion lingered after his cousin had slipped away. At the Warrior's altar, he used one candle to light another. Watch over my brother, you bloody bastard, he's one of yours. He lit a second candle to the Stranger, for himself.

That night, when the Red Keep was dark, Bronn arrived to find him sealing a letter. "Take this to Ser Jacelyn Bywater." The dwarf dribbled hot golden wax down onto the parchment.

"What does it say?" Bronn could not read, so he asked impudent questions.

"That he's to take fifty of his best swords and scout the roseroad." Tyrion pressed his seal into the soft wax.

"Stannis is more like to come up the kingsroad."

"Oh, I know. Tell Bywater to disregard what's in the letter and take his men north. He's to lay a trap along the Rosby road. Lord Gyles will depart for his castle in a day or two, with a dozen men-at-arms, some servants, and my nephew. Prince Tommen may be dressed as a page."

"You want the boy brought back, is that it?"

"No. I want him taken on to the castle." Removing the boy from the city was one of his sister's better notions, Tyrion had decided. At Rosby, Tommen would be safe from the mob, and keeping him apart from his brother also made things more difficult for Stannis; even if he took King's Landing and executed Joffrey, he'd still have a Lannister claimant to contend with. "Lord Gyles is too sickly to run and too craven to fight. He'll command his castellan to open the gates. Once inside the walls, Bywater is to expel the garrison and hold Tommen there safe. Ask him how he likes the sound of Lord Bywater."

"Lord Bronn would sound better. I could grab the boy for you just as well. I'll dandle him on my knee and sing him nursery songs if there's a lordship in it."

"I need you here," said Tyrion. And I don't trust you with my nephew. Should any ill befall Joffrey, the Lannister claim to the Iron Throne would rest on Tommen's young shoulders. Ser Jacelyn's gold cloaks would defend the boy; Bronn's sellswords were more apt to sell him to his enemies.

"What should the new lord do with the old one?"

"Whatever he pleases, so long as he remembers to feed him. I don't want him dying." Tyrion pushed away from the table. "My sister will send one of the Kingsguard with the prince."

Bronn was not concerned. "The Hound is Joffrey's dog, he won't leave him. Ironhand's gold cloaks should be able to handle the others easy enough."

"If it comes to killing, tell Ser Jacelyn I won't have it done in front of Tommen." Tyrion donned a heavy cloak of dark brown wool. "My nephew is tender-hearted."

"Are you certain he's a Lannister?"

"I'm certain of nothing but winter and battle," he said. "Come. I'm riding with you part of the way."

"Chataya's?"

"You know me too well."

They left through a postern gate in the north wall. Tyrion put his heels into his horse and clattered down Shadowblack Lane. A few furtive shapes darted into alleys at the sound of hoofbeats on the cobbles, but no one dared accost them. The council had extended his curfew; it was death to be taken on the streets after the evenfall bells had sung. The measure had restored a degree of peace to King's Landing and quartered the number of corpses found in the alleys of a morning, yet Varys said the people cursed him for it. They should be thankful they have the breath to curse. A pair of gold cloaks confronted them as they were making their way along Coppersmith's Wynd, but when they realized whom they'd challenged they begged the Hand's pardons and waved them on. Bronn turned south for the Mud Gate and they parted company.

Tyrion rode on toward Chataya's, but suddenly his patience deserted him. He twisted in the saddle, scanning the street behind. There were no signs of followers. Every window was dark or tightly shuttered. He heard nothing but the wind swirling down the alleys. If Cersei has someone stalking me tonight, he must be disguised as a rat. "Bugger it all," he muttered. He was sick of caution. Wheeling his horse around, he dug in his spurs. If anyone's after me, we'll see how well they ride. He flew through the moonlight streets, clattering over cobbles, darting down narrow alleys and up twisty wynds, racing to his love.

As he hammered on the gate he heard music wafting faintly over the spiked stone walls. One of the Ibbenese ushered him inside. Tyrion gave the man his horse and said, "Who is that?" The diamond-shaped panes of the longhall windows shone with yellow light, and he could hear a man singing.

The Ibbenese shrugged. "Fatbelly singer."

The sound swelled as he walked from the stable to the house. Tyrion had never been fond of singers, and he liked this one even less than the run of the breed, sight unseen. When he pushed open the door, the man broke off. "My lord Hand." He knelt, balding and kettle-bellied, murmuring, "An honor, an honor."

"M'lord." Shae smiled at the sight of him. He liked that smile, the quick unthinking way it came to her pretty face. The girl wore her purple silk, belted with a cloth-of-silver sash. The colors favored her dark hair and the smooth cream of her skin.

"Sweetling," he called her. "And who is this?"

The singer raised his eyes. "I am called Symon Silver Tongue, my lord. A player, a singer, a taleteller—"

"And a great fool," Tyrion finished. "What did you call me, when I entered?"

"Call? I only . . . " The silver in Symon's tongue seemed to have turned to lead. "My lord Hand, I said, an honor . . . "

"A wiser man would have pretended not to recognize me. Not that I would have been fooled, but you ought to have tried. What am I to do with you now? You know of my sweet Shae, you know where she dwells, you know that I visit by night alone."

"I swear, I'll tell no one . . . "

"On that much we agree. Good night to you." Tyrion led Shae up the stairs.

"My singer may never sing again now," she teased. "You've scared the voice from him."

"A little fear will help him reach those high notes."

She closed the door to their bedchamber. "You won't hurt him, will you?" She lit a scented candle and knelt to pull off his boots. "His songs cheer me on the nights you don't come."

"Would that I could come every night," he said as she rubbed his bare feet. "How well does he sing?"

"Better than some. Not so good as others."

Tyrion opened her robe and buried his face between her breasts. She always smelled clean to him, even in this reeking sty of a city. "Keep him if you like, but keep him close. I won't have him wandering the city spreading tales in pot-shops."

"He won't—" she started.

Tyrion covered her mouth with his own. He'd had talk enough; he needed the sweet simplicity of the pleasure he found between Shae's thighs. Here, at least, he was welcome, wanted.

Afterward, he eased his arm out from under her head, slipped on his tunic, and went down to the garden. A half-moon silvered the leaves of the fruit trees and shone on the surface of the stone bathing pond. Tyrion seated himself beside the water. Somewhere off to his right a cricket was chirping, a curiously homey sound. It is peaceful here, he thought, but for how long?

A whiff of something rank made him turn his head. Shae stood in the door behind him, dressed in the silvery robe he'd given her. I loved a maid as white as winter, with moonglow in her hair. Behind her stood one of the begging brothers, a portly man in filthy patched robes, his bare feet crusty with dirt, a bowl hung about his neck on a leather thong where a septon would have worn a crystal. The smell of him would have gagged a rat.

"Lord Varys has come to see you," Shae announced.

The begging brother blinked at her, astonished. Tyrion laughed. "To be sure. How is it you knew him when I did not?"

She shrugged. "It's still him. Only dressed different."

"A different look, a different smell, a different way of walking," said Tyrion. "Most men would be deceived."

"And most women, maybe. But not whores. A whore learns to see the man, not his garb, or she turns up dead in an alley."

Varys looked pained, and not because of the false scabs on his feet. Tyrion chuckled. "Shae, would you bring us some wine?" He might need a drink. Whatever brought the eunuch here in the dead of night was not like to be good.

"I almost fear to tell you why I've come, my lord," Varys said when Shae had left them. "I bring dire tidings."

"You ought to dress in black feathers, Varys, you're as bad an omen as any raven." Awkwardly, Tyrion pushed to his feet, half afraid to ask the next question. "Is it Jaime?" If they have harmed him, nothing will save them.

"No, my lord. A different matter. Ser Cortnay Penrose is dead. Storm's End has opened its gates to Stannis Baratheon."

Dismay drove all other thoughts from Tyrion's mind. When Shae returned with the wine, he took one sip and flung the cup away to explode against the side of the house. She raised a hand to shield herself from the shards as the wine ran down the stones in long fingers, black in the moonlight. "Damn him!" Tyrion said.

Varys smiled, showing a mouth full of rotted teeth. "Who, my lord? Ser Cortnay or Lord Stannis?"

"Both of them." Storm's End was strong, it should have been able to hold out for half a year or more . . . time enough for his father to finish with Robb Stark. "How did this happen?"

Varys glanced at Shae. "My lord, must we trouble your sweet lady's sleep with such grim and bloody talk?"

"A lady might be afraid," said Shae, "but I'm not."

"You should be," Tyrion told her. "With Storm's End fallen, Stannis will soon turn his attention toward King's Landing." He regretted flinging away that wine now. "Lord Varys, give us a moment, and I'll ride back to the castle with you."

"I shall wait in the stables." He bowed and stomped off.

Tyrion drew Shae down beside him. "You are not safe here."

"I have my walls, and the guards you gave me."

"Sellswords," Tyrion said. "They like my gold well enough, but will they die for it? As for these walls, a man could stand on another's shoulders and be over in a heartbeat. A manse much like this one was burned during the riots. They killed the goldsmith who owned it for the crime of having a full larder, just as they tore the High Septon to pieces, raped Lollys half a hundred times, and smashed Ser Aron's skull in. What do you think they would do if they got their hands on the Hand's lady?"

"The Hand's whore, you mean?" She looked at him with those big bold eyes of hers. "Though I would be your lady, m'lord. I'd dress in all the beautiful things you gave me, in satin and samite and cloth-of-gold, and I'd wear your jewels and hold your hand and sit by you at feasts. I could give you sons, I know I could . . . and I vow I'd never shame you."

My love for you shames me enough. "A sweet dream, Shae. Now put it aside, I beg you. It can never be."

"Because of the queen? I'm not afraid of her either."

"I am."

"Then kill her and be done with it. It's not as if there was any love between you."

Tyrion sighed. "She's my sister. The man who kills his own blood is cursed forever in the sight of gods and men. Moreover, whatever you and I may think of Cersei, my father and brother hold her dear. I can scheme with any man in the Seven Kingdoms, but the gods have not equipped me to face Jaime with swords in hand."

"The Young Wolf and Lord Stannis have swords and they don't scare you."

How little you know, sweetling. "Against them I have all the power of House Lannister. Against Jaime or my father, I have no more than a twisted back and a pair of stunted legs."

"You have me." Shae kissed him, her arms sliding around his neck as she pressed her body to his.

The kiss aroused him, as her kisses always did, but this time Tyrion gently disentangled himself. "Not now. Sweetling, I have . . . well, call it the seed of a plan. I think I might be able to bring you into the castle kitchens."

Shae's face went still. "The kitchens?"

"Yes. If I act through Varys, no one will be the wiser."

She giggled. "M'lord, I'd poison you. Every man who's tasted my cooking has told me what a good whore I am."

"The Red Keep has sufficient cooks. Butchers and bakers too. You'd need to pose as a scullion."

"A pot girl," she said, "in scratchy brown roughspun. Is that how m'lord wants to see me?"

"M'lord wants to see you alive," Tyrion said. "You can scarcely scour pots in silk and velvet."

"Has m'lord grown tired of me?" She reached a hand under his tunic and found his cock. In two quick strokes she had it hard. "He still wants me." She laughed. "Would you like to fuck your kitchen wench, m'lord? You can dust me with flour and suck gravy off my titties if you . . . "

"Stop it." The way she was acting reminded him of Dancy, who had tried so hard to win her wager. He yanked her hand away to keep her from further mischief. "This is not the time for bed sport, Shae. Your life may be at stake."

Her grin was gone. "If I've displeased m'lord, I never meant it, only . . . couldn't you just give me more guards?"

Tyrion breathed a deep sigh. Remember how young she is, he told himself. He took her hand. "Your gems can be replaced, and new gowns can be sewn twice as lovely as the old. To me, you're the most precious thing within these walls. The Red Keep is not safe either, but it's a deal safer than here. I want you there."

"In the kitchens." Her voice was flat. "Scouring pots."

"For a short while."

"My father made me his kitchen wench," she said, her mouth twisting. "That was why I ran off."

"You told me you ran off because your father made you his whore," he reminded her.

"That too. I didn't like scouring his pots no more than I liked his cock in me." She tossed her head. "Why can't you keep me in your tower? Half the lords at court keep bedwarmers."

"I was expressly forbidden to take you to court."

"By your stupid father." Shae pouted. "You're old enough to keep all the whores you want. Does he take you for a beardless boy? What could he do, spank you?"

He slapped her. Not hard, but hard enough. "Damn you," he said. "Damn you. Never mock me. Not you."

For a moment Shae did not speak. The only sound was the cricket, chirping, chirping. "Beg pardon, m'lord," she said at last, in a heavy wooden voice. "I never meant to be impudent."

And I never meant to strike you. Gods be good, am I turning into Cersei? "That was ill done," he said. "On both our parts. Shae, you do not understand." Words he had never meant to speak came tumbling out of him like mummers from a hollow horse. "When I was thirteen, I wed a crofter's daughter. Or so I thought her. I was blind with love for her, and thought she felt the same for me, but my father rubbed my face in the truth. My bride was a whore Jaime had hired to give me my first taste of manhood." And I believed all of it, fool that I was. "To drive the lesson home, Lord Tywin gave my wife to a barracks of his guardsmen to use as they pleased, and commanded me to watch." And to take her one last time, after the rest were done. One last time, with no trace of love or tenderness remaining. "So you will remember her as she truly is," he said, and I should have defied him, but my cock betrayed me, and I did as I was bid. "After he was done with her, my father had the marriage undone. It was as if we had never been wed, the septons said." He squeezed her hand. "Please, let's have no more talk of the Tower of the Hand. You will be in the kitchens only a little while. Once we're done with Stannis, you'll have another manse, and silks as soft as your hands."

Shae's eyes had grown large but he could not read what lay behind them. "My hands won't be soft if I clean ovens and scrape plates all day. Will you still want them touching you when they're all red and raw and cracked from hot water and lye soap?"

"More than ever," he said. "When I look at them, they'll remind me how brave you were."

He could not say if she believed him. She lowered her eyes. "I am yours to command, m'lord."

It was as much acceptance as she could give tonight, he saw that plain enough. He kissed her cheek where he'd struck her, to take some sting from the blow. "I will send for you."

Varys was waiting in the stables, as promised. His horse looked spavined and half-dead. Tyrion mounted up; one of the sellswords opened the gates. They rode out in silence. Why did I tell her about Tysha, gods help me? he asked himself, suddenly afraid. There were some secrets that should never be spoken, some shames a man should take to his grave. What did he want from her, forgiveness? The way she had looked at him, what did that mean? Did she hate the thought of scouring pots that much, or was it his confession? How could I tell her that and still think she would love me? part of him said, and another part mocked, saying, Fool of a dwarf, it is only the gold and jewels the whore loves.

His scarred elbow was throbbing, jarred every time the horse set down a hoof. Sometimes he could almost fancy he heard the bones grinding together inside. Perhaps he should see a maester, get some potion for the pain . . . but since Pycelle had revealed himself for what he was, Tyrion Lannister mistrusted the maesters. The gods only knew who they were conspiring with, or what they had mixed in those potions they gave you. "Varys," he said. "I need to bring Shae into the castle without Cersei becoming aware." Briefly, he sketched out his kitchen scheme.

When he was done, the eunuch made a little clucking sound. "I will do as my lord commands, of course . . . but I must warn you, the kitchens are full of eyes and ears. Even if the girl falls under no particular suspicion, she will be subject to a thousand questions. Where was she born? Who were her parents? How did she come to King's Landing? The truth will never do, so she must lie . . . and lie, and lie." He glanced down at Tyrion. "And such a pretty young kitchen wench will incite lust as well as curiosity. She will be touched, pinched, patted, and fondled. Pot boys will crawl under her blankets of a night. Some lonely cook may seek to wed her. Bakers will knead her breasts with floured hands."

"I'd sooner have her fondled than stabbed," said Tyrion.

Varys rode on a few paces and said, "It might be that there is another way. As it happens, the maidservant who attends Lady Tanda's daughter has been filching her jewels. Were I to inform Lady Tanda, she would be forced to dismiss the girl at once. And the daughter would require a new maidservant."

"I see." This had possibilities, Tyrion saw at once. A lady's bedmaid wore finer garb than a scullion, and often even a jewel or two. Shae should be pleased by that. And Cersei thought Lady Tanda tedious and hysterical, and Lollys a bovine lackwit. She was not like to pay them any friendly calls.

"Lollys is timid and trusting," Varys said. "She will accept any tale she is told. Since the mob took her maidenhood she is afraid to leave her chambers, so Shae will be out of sight . . . but conveniently close, should you have need of comfort."

"The Tower of the Hand is watched, you know as well as I. Cersei would be certain to grow curious if Lollys's bedmaid starting paying me calls."

"I might be able to slip the child into your bedchamber unseen. Chataya's is not the only house to boast a hidden door."

"A secret access? To my chambers?" Tyrion was more annoyed than surprised. Why else would Maegor the Cruel have ordered death for all the builders who had worked on his castle, except to preserve such secrets? "Yes, I suppose there would be. Where will I find the door? In my solar? My bedchamber?"

"My friend, you would not force me to reveal all my little secrets, would you?"

"Henceforth think of them as our little secrets, Varys." Tyrion glanced up at the eunuch in his smelly mummer's garb. "Assuming you are on my side . . . "

"Can you doubt it?"

"Why no, I trust you implicitly." A bitter laugh echoed off the shuttered windows. "I trust you like one of my own blood, in truth. Now tell me how Cortnay Penrose died."

"It is said that he threw himself from a tower."

"Threw himself? No, I will not believe that!"

"His guards saw no man enter his chambers, nor did they find any within afterward."

"Then the killer entered earlier and hid under the bed," Tyrion suggested, "or he climbed down from the roof on a rope. Perhaps the guards are lying. Who's to say they did not do the thing themselves?"

"Doubtless you are right, my lord."

His smug tone said otherwise. "But you do not think so? How was it done, then?"

For a long moment Varys said nothing. The only sound was the stately clack of horseshoes on cobbles. Finally the eunuch cleared his throat. "My lord, do you believe in the old powers?"

"Magic, you mean?" Tyrion said impatiently. "Bloodspells, curses, shapeshifting, those sorts of things?" He snorted. "Do you mean to suggest that Ser Cortnay was magicked to his death?"

"Ser Cortnay had challenged Lord Stannis to single combat on the morning he died. I ask you, is this the act of a man lost to despair? Then there is the matter of Lord Renly's mysterious and most fortuitous murder, even as his battle lines were forming up to sweep his brother from the field." The eunuch paused a moment. "My lord, you once asked me how it was that I was cut."

"I recall," said Tyrion. "You did not want to talk of it."

"Nor do I, but . . . " This pause was longer than the one before, and when Varys spoke again his voice was different somehow. "I was an orphan boy apprenticed to a traveling folly. Our master owned a fat little cog and we sailed up and down the narrow sea performing in all the Free Cities and from time to time in Oldtown and King's Landing.

"One day at Myr, a certain man came to our folly. After the performance, he made an offer for me that my master found too tempting to refuse. I was in terror. I feared the man meant to use me as I had heard men used small boys, but in truth the only part of me he had need of was my manhood. He gave me a potion that made me powerless to move or speak, yet did nothing to dull my senses. With a long hooked blade, he sliced me root and stem, chanting all the while. I watched him burn my manly parts on a brazier. The flames turned blue, and I heard a voice answer his call, though I did not understand the words they spoke.

"The mummers had sailed by the time he was done with me. Once I had served his purpose, the man had no further interest in me, so he put me out. When I asked him what I should do now, he answered that he supposed I should die. To spite him, I resolved to live. I begged, I stole, and I sold what parts of my body still remained to me. Soon I was as good a thief as any in Myr, and when I was older I learned that often the contents of a man's letters are more valuable than the contents of his purse.

"Yet I still dream of that night, my lord. Not of the sorcerer, nor his blade, nor even the way my manhood shriveled as it burned. I dream of the voice. The voice from the flames. Was it a god, a demon, some conjurer's trick? I could not tell you, and I know all the tricks. All I can say for a certainty is that he called it, and it answered, and since that day I have hated magic and all those who practice it. If Lord Stannis is one such, I mean to see him dead."

When he was done, they rode in silence for a time. Finally Tyrion said, "A harrowing tale. I'm sorry."

The eunuch sighed. "You are sorry, but you do not believe me. No, my lord, no need to apologize. I was drugged and in pain and it was a very long time ago and far across the sea. No doubt I dreamed that voice. I've told myself as much a thousand times."

"I believe in steel swords, gold coins, and men's wits," said Tyrion. "And I believe there once were dragons. I've seen their skulls, after all."

"Let us hope that is the worst thing you ever see, my lord."

"On that we agree." Tyrion smiled. "And for Ser Cortnay's death, well, we know Stannis hired sellsails from the Free Cities. Perhaps he bought himself a skilled assassin as well."

"A very skilled assassin."

"There are such. I used to dream that one day I'd be rich enough to send a Faceless Man after my sweet sister."

"Regardless of how Ser Cortnay died," said Varys, "he is dead, the castle fallen. Stannis is free to march."

"Any chance we might convince the Dornishmen to descend on the Marches?" asked Tyrion.

"None."

"A pity. Well, the threat may serve to keep the Marcher lords close to their castles, at least. What news of my father?"

"If Lord Tywin has won across the Red Fork, no word has reached me yet. If he does not hasten, he may be trapped between his foes. The Oakheart leaf and the Rowan tree have been seen north of the Mander."

"No word from Littlefinger?"

"Perhaps he never reached Bitterbridge. Or perhaps he's died there. Lord Tarly has seized Renly's stores and put a great many to the sword; Florents, chiefly. Lord Caswell has shut himself up in his castle."

Tyrion threw back his head and laughed.

Varys reined up, nonplussed. "My lord?"

"Don't you see the jest, Lord Varys?" Tyrion waved a hand at the shuttered windows, at all the sleeping city. "Storm's End is fallen and Stannis is coming with fire and steel and the gods alone know what dark powers, and the good folk don't have Jaime to protect them, nor Robert nor Renly nor Rhaegar nor their precious Knight of Flowers. Only me, the one they hate." He laughed again. "The dwarf, the evil counselor, the twisted little monkey demon. I'm all that stands between them and chaos."

#ClashofKings

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