My first foray into the world of Game of Thrones! Set after 4x01 but no real spoilers. Please enjoy
"You took too long" Cersei's green eyes are full of bitterness and blame, all aggrieved aggression towards his so called "delay".
The blatant unfairness of having to shoulder the blame for his enforced absence and captivity stung even hours later. A hurt compounded by the utter lack of welcome he had received from his beloved sister: her door remained shut to him as it had every night since his return to Kings Landing.
Perhaps this was it. The separation he had been dreading since that night he had first been barred from her chambers. Jaime felt an unfamiliar sensation behind his eyes and fire seemed to stream down his cheek, confused he lifted his arm and felt only cold and alien metal against his skin; a further insult from his sister. Frustrated he wiped again at his eyes and felt moisture. How strange that this should be when he rediscovered tears. That being denied comfort only his twin could offer him would strike more deeply at the core of his being than the humiliation of being chained to a post as a captive to a boy pretender or even the loss of his sword hand, the source of his identity for so long.
Jaime returned to his chambers, resentful of the clumsy gold hand by his side. Elegant was what Cersei had called it, he snorted, impractical would be more accurate. Some helpful person had left a flagon of wine on a table in the ornately furnished room, such a place was the antithesis of everything he had experienced for the last year. It must have been Tyrion he mused, appreciative of his brother's insight; then again Tyrion always had been the most intelligent of the three Lannister children.
He seized the flagon and filled his cup, drained it and refilled it, already anticipating the variety of numbness only drink could provide.
xxxx
The flagon was empty and yet Jaime remained awake, the longed for oblivion was still elusive and wine the only remedy to his sorry state of wakefulness.
He strode to the door, intending to walk to the closest source of wine he might encounter. Instead upon throwing open the wooden door he happened upon a gaggle of handmaids strolling down the corridor, whispering whatever inane secrets they deemed important to each other.
"Bring me more wine, girl!" He commanded. They giggled and hurried on, leaving behind only one, whose burden of clothes had been knocked from her grasp as the others had fled, leaving their companion to the mercy of the anonymous, drunken lord.
Jaime took this as an opportunity to muse on the duplicity and spitefulness of women.
"Especially blonde ones. They're the worst for it."
"Excuse me my lord?" The maid was startled from gathering up the clothes by this rather strange pronouncement.
"You're not blonde."
"No, my lord."
"Good. Fetch me wine."
"Yes, my lord."
As she turned to go her foot caught in one of the trailing gowns she held so close to herself, almost like a shield, and she began to fall. Jaime reached out an arm to help her but his stump caught in the sleeve of her dress and he fell also, entangled in the clothes with her.
"I'm so sorry my lord!" Her eyes were wide and she looked terrified at the prospect of having caused offense to one of the many volatile men within the keep's walls.
"Not at all little maid." He grimaced as he stood, leaning down to offer her assistance to stand.
She smiled shyly and took his hand. It was like nothing had changed and he was still the charming, handsome and whole Jaime Lannister of before. Then her gaze shifted and she caught sight of his right arm, entirely devoid of a hand and she gasped.
"My lord, I apologise, I didn't realise-"
"That I am the queen's brother? The Kingslayer?" He spat out the loathsome title, taking cruel enjoyment in her renewed fear.
"I –"
He leaned towards her, crowding closer so that she was backed against the wall with no escape from him possible.
"Are you scared little maid?"
"No." Her response was soft but firm.
"No?"
"No, my lord." This time her voice was firmer, although her eyes avoided his own, fixed firmly on a distant point beyond his shoulder.
"How very foolish you are, little maid." His words whispered softly in her ear drew no response. "I've killed countless men, kings, knights, nobles, women, even wenches such as yourself." Still nothing. "I fuck my own twin sister." At last something: a gasp. "Don't be so shocked little maid, Stannis has ensured the entire world has heard, what difference could it make for one girl like you to know?"
Her eyes were wide and shocked as he placed a finger beneath her chin and forced her to look at him.
"Nothing to say? How dull." Jaime turned away and returned to his chambers, leaving her alone in the corridor.
xxxx
Evelyn stood stock still in the deserted corridor, hand on her chest feeling the ponding of her heart, waiting for the moment when he returned to run her through with his sword for her temerity in being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Her breathing slowed and she stooped to gather up in her arms the clothes lying forgotten on the floor. She hurried down the corridor to her mistress's chambers, slipping inside she saw that the lady was sleeping soundly in her bed, at peace in unconsciousness as she rarely was awake.
After putting away the clothes which had been the cause of so much unease that evening Evelyn hesitated, recalling Ser Jaime's demand for wine. He was a powerful man and disobeying an order could result in pain and trouble for her, but she didn't want to return to that corridor and give him an opportunity to harm her.
She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat and headed to the kitchens to pick up another flagon that would undoubtedly enable whatever drunken plans he had for this particular evening. Leaving the flagon outside his door she swept away as quickly as she could without seeming to hurry, afterall a running maid rarely went unquestioned.
xxxx
The sound of battle raged on in the distance, Targaryen dragons shrieking in the sky and raining fire down on their mother's enemies. Men, horses, and monsters screaming and all those left in the camp could do was hold each other for comfort in anticipation of the inevitable losses.
In her tent Sansa was pacing, wearing her tread into the ground with fear.
"You must sit down and rest my lady." Evelyn's suggestion was met with silence.
"My lady please stop this! You'll wear yourself out!" Sansa turned to her maid at this. Her eyes were wide pools of blue in her colourless face, even paler than usual.
"How can I be calm Eve! Who will come back?" The unspoken question of who would not hung in the air between them.
"My lady-"
Evelyn's response was cut off by the approaching shouts of victory. Sansa somehow paled even further and seized the dagger lying on her bed in preparation for any man foolish enough to choose her tent to loot.
"Jon!"
The man who entered was no enemy soldier and as he wrapped Sansa in his arms she collapsed against him in welcome relief.
Evelyn made to slip out of the tent, leaving them to enjoy what privacy they could.
"Excuse me, would you please go to Ser Jaime's tent? His manservant was wounded in the battle and I would appreciate it if you could help me." Although it was the most politely phrased instruction she had received it was still a command from her lord king and Evelyn was bound to obey.
"Of course, your grace."
As Evelyn left she could hear Jon and Sansa's murmurings and she smiled softly.
xxxx
Ser Jaime had his back to her as she entered his tent with trepidation, he was struggling to release the straps of his armour.
He turned at the sound of the tent flap falling closed.
"So you have returned, little maid. What an unexpected pleasure." Evelyn suppressed a shudder at the memories his voice evoked.
"King Jon sent me to assist you, my lord."
"How very generous and unusual of him."
She flushed at the implications of his words. "His grace informed me that your manservant was wounded in the battle and that you might require some help after the fighting."
At this reminder of his servant's suffering the disturbingly feline grin fell from his lips and his expression grew grim.
"How can I be of assistance, my lord?"
Ser Jaime gestured to the straps of his armour and she moved to take off the heavy sheets of metal, leaving them on the floor at his command.
xxxx
"Would you care for a bath, my lord?"
He started at the wench's unexpected boldness
"That would be much appreciated, girl." Jaime began to unlace his leather doublet as she poured the heated water in the corner of his tent into the bathtub.
"What is your name?" She froze. "I can't keep on calling you girl. Or I could but it would be rather discourteous of me."
"Evelyn, my lord."
"Evelyn." He tried it out on his tongue. "Thank you for your assistance."
"You're welcome my lord."
Evelyn turned to go but he caught her hand to halt her, she gasped and looked up at him in shock at his overly aggressive action.
"You shouldn't return to your tent yet."
"My lord?" Her confusion was either a display of utter naivety or an attempt at protecting her mistress from camp scandal.
"You are the Lady Sansa's maid are you not? His grace King Jon sent you to me, away from them?"
"Yes, my lord."
"You should not return to your tent yet."
Her eyes flashed before she lowered them carefully to hide that fire she didn't seem to want to display.
"Yes my lord."
She expected him to release her and when he didn't she tugged to free her hand, gasping when he held one and pulled her to him. He was looking at her with an intensity she didn't recognise on his features.
Evelyn really was a lovely girl, all dark hair and wide brown eyes.
"I realise I haven't properly thanked you for your assistance, Evelyn." Jaime could see that she wasn't entirely immune to the suggestion as a lovely flush rose up her cheeks.
"That is entirely unnecessary my lord, I only did as commanded."
"Perhaps, but you were still a great help." Her hand was still in his and Jaime used this to his advantage as he pulled her flush against his chest, wrapping his arm around her waist
xxxx
"My lord-"
"Jaime. Please. My name is Jaime."
Evelyn had been prepared to extricate herself from this position, regardless of how tempting it was to submit to her desires to spend a night with an extremely attractive man such as the kingslayer undeniably was.
But he said please. One of the proudest men in the Seven Kingdoms asked her, a humble maid. Pausing she looked into his eyes and thought that maybe Jaime Lannister, Kingslayer, incestuous oathbreaker, heir of Tywin Lannister might want to just be Jaime.
"Jaime." She whispered it but to him it was a benediction, that tonight, for her, he could be Jaime.
Evelyn swayed closer to him, drawn in by those eyes, green and swimming with regret and desire.
Jaime leant slowly towards her, sliding his hand up to cup her chin, when their lips finally met all their care and gentleness seem to evaporate into an expression of the desire and tension that had been simmering between them.
She gasped and he nipped her lips, he groaned as she kissed her way down his neck.
xxxx
Her gown lay forgotten on the floor with his shirt and breeches strewn alongside.
Jaime lay on his back with an arm around the slumbering girl curled up on his chest reflecting on the night. She really was a beauty and flashes of what they had done together made him smile and shift in anticipation of her waking.
Evelyn was warm and comfortable and felt wonderfully safe but wakefulness was summoning her and she reluctantly stirred.
"Good morning little maid."
"Good morning my lord."
He threaded a hand through her dark hair and tugged so that she looked at him.
"I thought we agreed I am Jaime."
"Did we? You must forgive me my lord. I am but a lowly hand maiden."
Jaime rolled so that he was pinning her beneath him. "Jaime." He insisted, kissing her into submission. As his tongue swept along her lips she gasped and he took full advantage until they were both panting.
"Wench you are a tease."
"Never, Jaime." She looked up at him with her wide brown eyes, suddenly sombre and serious where before there had been only desire.
"I know!" He joked, lightening the mood and she laughed along with him.
xxxx
Jaime walked Evelyn back to her tent in silence as soon as they heard the rest of the camp begin to stir. When they walked into the Lady Sansa's tent they met their king leaving. Jon looked sufficiently shame faced but smiled as he realised where Evelyn must have spent the night.
"Good morning your grace." Evelyn curtsied gracefully, Jaime bowed and Jon nodded in response.
"Good morning."
Sansa was still in bed, her hair tousled when Evelyn entered the tent and she smiled like a cat while stretching.
"Forgive me ladies, I seem to have forgotten something."
Jaime entered the tent with a nod to Sansa who sat blinking blearily in her bed.
"How can we help my lord?" Evelyn was already regretting that she had so easily forgotten herself and been so shamelessly wanton with him while he clearly had no qualms about returning to their previous roles.
He strode over to her, cupped her face with his good hand and seized her around the waist with his golden hand, allowing no resistance. "I forgot this."
The kiss was possessive, passionate, and a reassurance. All that she could have wanted and more than she could have hoped for.
Jaime released her and, with a nod to Sansa, left the tent.
"I suppose you had an enjoyable night."
"As you, my lady."
"I certainly hope so Eve!"
Not sure how I feel about the ending but I rewrote it a few times and this was the one I liked the most! Please let me know what you think : )