Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or any works created by the genius that is George R.R. Martin.
Ok so this is my first attempt at a Jamie/OC fic. Hopefully you all enjoy my work and please, feel free to critique me or give some input on where you would like this story to go. However, "critique," is not synonymous to "flame"! So please be kind and PLEASE REVIEW. I won't be encouraged to continue if I don't think anyone is reading.
Enjoy
Chapter 1: Drinks All Around
"Nothing like a Dornish red on a warm summer night." Ser Jaime Lannister did not address any one man in particular, but the White Cloaks gathered round him cheered in agreement.
To the left of him, a drunken oaf of a knight matched his words with some of his own, "Sorry to disagree with you Ser Jaime, but I'd rather have a pretty lass warmin' my bed on a night like this. Screw the wine." He barely got out his last sentence before he fell onto the ground, pulling a startled young whore with him as he went.
Jaime could not help but bare a pearly grin at his drunken comrade, and laugh as the girl brushed the dirt off herself, stomping away thoroughly annoyed. To further embarrass him, the handsome knight said, "Seems as though the wine is all that will be accompanying you to your room tonight Ser Dontos."
As Ser Dontos stumbled away, and the men's laugh's again echoed around him, Jaime could not help but silently agree with the words the drunkard proclaimed. Jaime's gaze wandered to the makeshift head table that some servants crafted for this outdoor event.
Tonight, the courtyard in the red keep hosted a grand feast; Prince Joffrey's name day celebration. Banners and tapestries were brightly lit by lanterns and candles of all sizes. Variants of red and gold embellishments decorated the cobblestone structures and cloths atop tables. Musicians, dancers, actors and performers worked together to create an entertaining atmosphere appropriate for a member of the royal family.
But nothing seemed to hold Jaime's attention more than the head table…
His attention however was interrupted by his younger brother, who never failed to find him deep in thought, "You can always count on Ser Dontos to be the most piss drunk at a royal celebration."
With great care, Jaime looked down at his brother as to not bring attention to what held his momentary gaze, "Yes," Jaime answered, "but he always comes second to you."
The cocky dwarf chuckled at his younger brother's words, but he nodded and could only say, "Ah, you know me too well."
"I am your brother after all."
"Speaking of siblings," Tyrion lifted his glass of Dornish red to his lips in a brief pause, but then continued, "our dear sister does not look as though she is enjoying herself."
Jamie's eyes returned to the head table he was so fascinated by, and he looked again at the object of his secret desire. She was radiant, her cascading, golden, Lannister locks were braided in a Southern fashion atop her head; earlier he noticed her flowing scarlet dress as she stood before the guests, the cut of it barely revealed the tops of her breasts and it accentuated her graceful neck. When she smiled, a practiced raise of her lips for audiences, she was still gorgeous. Lately however, he noticed that genuine happiness barely radiated from his sister, and that her eyes no longer subtly sparkled for him like they did when they first began their torrid love affair. The warmth she once had in her heart was turning cold.
She was his secret love; his beautiful ice queen.
At the moment, Cersei was downing back her own ornate goblet, as Robert feasted barbarically on his roasted pork.
"I mean," Tyrion continued, "she is seated in the best company…"
Without betraying the disdain he held for the King through his face, Jamie gulped down the rest of his wine and said to his brother, "Perhaps she needs a change of scenery." Jaime would never notice the disappointed look Tyrion held in his eyes and his brother walked away.
The party was close to reaching its crescendo; the very best of performers and whores romped and reveled (perhaps a bit much in front of the eyes of children), but gaily enough to affect everyone with tremendous joy and good feelings. All except one, and he would soon save her from this hell.
'Always and forever my gallant protector." She said those words to him when they were mere children, but they always made him feel whole. He would die for his sister if she asked.
But before her could reach her, Jaime was stopped by a voice that called his name, "Jaime, come introduce yourself to Prince Doran" Jaime knew that this was no request
Lord Tywin Lannister rarely came to Kings Landing since his despicable son-in-law began to call himself king. But Tywin never missed a chance to cement connections. Prince Doran decided to attend tonight's celebration only because Robert became increasingly insulted that the Martells have separated themselves so much from the rest of the Kingdom.
"Father, I do not believe that Doran Martell will be that pleased to see me…"
Jaime was not an easy man to rattle, but when his father would clench his jaw, and look at him with cold, steel eyes, Jaime could not deny that after all these years, Tywin sill unnerved him.
Sternly, Tywin replied, "Though it is well know that there is no love lost between the Martell's and the Lannister's, Doran is old and sick. His daughter Arianne will soon rule Dorne. If there is a way we can establish influence within their land through trade if nothing else, now is an opportune time to do it. Introducing the Martell's to the Lannister's is a sign of good faith."
Jaime felt his father's strong hand on his shoulder, and slowly, Jaime's direction was turned from his sister, to the cobblestone path that led to the Martell's. But before they reached their destination, Jaime found himself thinking aloud, "you said if nothing else; how else would you want to establish an alliance with the Martell's?"
Without sparing a glance at his son, Tywin said, "As a member of the Kingsguard, you vowed to never marry or bear children as long as you served the King. However, you are my son, and at some point in life, you must continue my line. Arianne Martell would make a fine wife, and a natural alliance would be built by your marriage."
He did not know how respond; if only Tywin knew that Jaime had already done his part to continue the Lannister line. However, Jaime had no time to oherently verbalize his objection, and soon found himself face-to-face with the tan and serious faces of the Martell's.
After what seemed like a decade's worth of forced conversation, Jaime felt more inebriated by his Dornish red (the like of which Doran could not help but brag incessantly about). The wine however, seemed to loosed him a bit, and though he never imaged it possible, he managed to charm Princess Arianne Martell. He danced with her twice to the pleasure of Tywin, and Jaime was well aware that by complementing her, and flashing handsome grins, her disdain for him and his family would fade. Since birth, she was taught to hate him since Gregor Clegane raped and murdered her aunt, but Jaime new himself that as the most handsome man in the Seven Kingdoms, that no woman could resist him for long.
Thankfully though, Tywin released him from the exchange, and Jaime's mission to save his sister was again his first priority. Though he was not sure how long he had spent buttering up the Martell's, it was enough time to lose Cersei. He heard Robert blathering on about one of his wartime tales, but he could not see his sister anywhere. 'Now where did she run off too…" he thought to himself.
Luckily, a servant informed him that she had returned to her chambers, and before he left, he harmlessly flirted with the girl just so he could sneak away unnoticed.
Along his way into the Keep and through the halls, he crossed many a knight and whore engaging in lustful interactions, but they were too drunk to care where the famous knight was going. Jaime walked a less traveled way to Maegor's Holdfast, in the direction of the Queen's rooms, to avoid the eyes he could not see.
Once he reached the door that separated him from his beloved, he ran a hand though his hair, and then adjusted his uniform. He had to chuckle at himself. His father and his sister could reduce him to boyhood.
He raised his hand to knock on the door, but was surprised to hear a feint laugh from the other side. 'Too much wine.' It saddened Jaime to realize that he could only believe his sister to be happy these days if she was drunk. Once again he raised his hand to knock, but this time it was not the delicate laugh of his sister that stopped him, but the sound of a clear, masculine laugh that emerged from the very same room. Surprise quickly turned into rage.
"Cersei," Jaime called out louder than expected. The laughter died as soon as he bellowed. Muffled shuffling sounds could be heard from Jaime's position, but no one emerged. At this point he was boiling, "Cersei," he called yet again, restraining himself, "are you alright?"
This time, he did knock, but it was interrupted when his blonde beauty opened the door. "What are you doing here?" There was a hint of cautiousness in her voice, yet he could feel her maliciousness.
"I was looking for you and one of your handmaidens said you had returned here for the night. What she did not tell me however was that you brought company…"
With little resistance, Jaime pushed the door open to reveal none other than the youngest of the Kettleblack brothers, Osney.
"Kettleblack?" Jaime wasn't sure what to do; he was both furious and confused. Kettleblack had no titles, and only made a reputation as a good fighter, but surely that is not enough to impress her. "I must say that I'm surprised to see you in the Queen's bedchamber."
Osney was a tall man, with dark hair that fell upon his broad shoulders, but he had a rather crooked nose. 'Why him?' Jaime pondered.
"I was escorting her Grace to her bedchamber; you saw for yourself Ser Jaime, there are many dangerous drunkards throughout the castle tonight." His confidence boiled Jaime's blood. To avoid onlookers, Jaime closed the door behind him. He then slowly circled the room, bending and craning his neck, as if looking for something. "Well Kettleblack, seems as though there is no danger in the Queen's bedchamber. This revelation leads me to ask, why are you still here?"
Both men stared at each other, and Cersei finally spoke up, "Please leave us Lord Kettleblack, thank you for your protection."
'Always and forever my gallant protector.' Surely she could not see this nameless nobody as her protector…
Kettleblack bowed to the Queen, but before he could unlock the door, Jaime slammed his hand on the wooden surface in front of Osney's face. The tension was mounting, and in a low voice, Jaime began, "If I ever see or hear that you have come into these rooms, attended or not, I will tell the King that you took advantage of my dear sister and raped her whist she was drunk off of wine. Is that understood?" Neither men would break their hateful stare, but Kettleblack was the first to crack. With brute strength, he pulled the door open and stormed out without a reply.
Cersei could not balance herself well, and Jaime watched as she plopped down with little grace on her feathered bed. After many moments passed, Cersei's familiar disdainful voice sounded; "I know what you're thinking-why Osney Kettleblack?" Jaime made no sound as he watched her, so she continued, "my only reply is, why Arianne Martell?"
Jaime's rage only increased as his sister accused him or harboring feeling for the Dornish princess, "Do not try to lay the blame on me sister. You do not see Princess Arianne in my bedchamber. Do you know how much you just risked exposing? For what purpose? Your own stupid jealously?"
"She is no princess," she spat, "she is but a tanned, young, whore. And don't think I didn't notice you staring at her."
"I do not want the Martell babe," Jaime said as he approached her. Her eyes did not sparkle, but there was an almost evil fire that radiated from them, "You did not seem so opposed to the idea when Father talked to you. I am no fool, I've known Father's intentions for some time; as soon as he accepted the invitation." Cersei tried with dignity to raise herself by pulling on the bedposts.
"What would you expect me to do," Jaime's voice became strained from frustration, "Say no? Your stunt with Kettleblack could have ruined everything. I save our necks repeatedly. What if someone saw you?"
Cersei laughed vindictively at Jaime's concerns, "You just can't help but fear everyone—Father, Robert; you fear your own ass. You're nothing but a coward!" Her yelling pushed Jaime to his limits, and he stomped over to her, grabbed her arms, and pulled her close.
"Never say that again. Ever." The tone of his voice became deathly low. But Cersei's dark eyes were not phased.
'She's a shell of what she was…' Jaime thought as her cold, dead eyes looked at him. 'Pit less, black holes.'
"Did you lay with him?" he asked as calmly as possible.
"Of course not—"
"Because I arrived before it could happen!" Cersei tugged her arms out of his grip and walked past him, too guilty to look into his eyes, "This is the second time…how many more times must I endure this…"
Jaime stared holes into her back as he remembered the last time this happened. About three months prior, Jaime saw Cersei flirting with their young cousin Lancel in the hallway near her chamber. He stopped her advances before anything could happen, but that argument turned so vicious that he nearly beat a bratty squire to death to calm himself.
Cersei turned to look at him, their eyes locked, but there was no love, no sparkle that he longed to see.
"You're nothing but a disappointment." Her words cut him like ice, and she smirked like a demon, "You may be handsome, and strong, but you could never be my champion. You're spineless, and only care about your damned reputation." Cersei found enough confidence with the influence of her wine, and slowly approached him like a lion ready to pounce. "I hope the Martell girl is pleased with you, but I do not think that possible. You lack the ability to please anyone…in many ways."
Jaime never felt this awful before. So many hateful thoughts traveled through his mind. She never went this far in their arguments. After all he had done to protect her, to make her feel beautiful, this is how she truly felt. He was being used.
"You demean my honor, my rank, and my very manhood-"There was no care in his voice, if she did not value him, then he would reciprocate the same treatment, "Remember this night sister. For tonight is the end of us."
Her cries and screams fazed him, but not once did he turn around as he left the bedchamber, and eventually, the Keep itself
Before Jaime knew it, he was alone, in the heart of Kingslanding, with only a bottle of wine to keep him company.
Okay so I'll stop that here. Just a reminder, this is NOT a Cersei/Jaime fic. This is a Jaime/OC fic. However since I've reached near 2700 words, I thought that I would introduce her in the next chapter. I've never done this before; usually I expose the OC early on. However, I think that this background is important. I like portraying Jaime as both a cocky ass, but sensitive, and we can only truly see that in interactions with Cersei.
In the next chapter, we will be introduced to Helaine Rivers; PLEASE STICK AROUND. You'll love her I promise :D
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