Pairing: Jaime Lannister / Jorah Mormont
Rating: T
Tags: Mormonnister, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romance, Pre-Slash, Slash, Angst, Kisses.
AU: Jaime left the Kingsguard after the Rebellion to live on Bear Island.
Summary: Jorah gets hurt, but somehow it's Jaime who needs to be comforted the most.
This fic is a gift to ProfDrLachfinger! 3 It has four chapters, I will post one chapter a week ;)
BURNED
Chapter I
- "To your left!"
Jorah turned on his heels, bringing his sword up to protect his face and torso, just in time to stop an small axe made of rusted steel. The two weapons clanged against one another, but the young Mormont barely noticed the sound. The fighting was going on all around them, the armored men and women of Bear Island against the ragged but well-armed wildlings who had invaded their lands and raided their farms. There were shoutings and the sounds of metal against metal, and the wailings of wounded people too. It was surprising how Jorah was able to ignore all those sounds when he was fighting, and still never missed that one familiar voice when it was calling him. A voice that had saved him many times.
The wildling who had almost cut his head into two with his axe had an angry and desperate look on his face, as if he held Jorah responsible for all his miseries. He would have had compassion for him, but the man and his companions had attacked innocent farmers, butchering them to steal their food. So he pushed back with his sword, using the sheer power of his hard trained muscles, until his assaillant took one step back and lost his balance, then he slashed across his belly, and brought his sword up and through his opponent's throat. The man was dead before he even fell on the ground.
Jorah caught his breath for a second, his eyes searching instinctively for a familiar mane of blond hair among the men who were fighting. He saw that the fighting was almost done. The wildlings had never stood a chance against them anyway: his men had armors and were well-trained in combat, and they were used to fight the occasional raiders from Beyond-The-Wall.
- "Jorah! Behind you!"
This time, the warning came too late. By the time he turned to look behind him, two wildlings were already upon him. He saw the blades coming right towards his face. But then someone stepped between him and the two men, and Jorah only had the time to recognize the red cape and the golden hair before suddenly the two assaillants were dead on his savior's feet, staining his shoes with their dark red blood. Even now, Jorah couldn't help but marvel at Jaime Lannister's skills and swiftness in combat. It was like nothing could ever harm the man as long as he had a sword in his hands.
And honestly, he wished nothing would ever harm the young man, ever.
- "Looks like I owe you one, Jaime."
- "One? More like ten, old man!", replied Jaime with a laugh. "What would you do without me watching your back constantly?"
- "Oh so you're keeping count, then?"
- "I sure am. I'll make sure I find some way for you to repay me back one way or the other."
Jaime winked at that, which made Jorah blush. He quickly diverted his eyes and turned back to the fighting at hand. He had fantasies about the golden-haired young man, fantasies he tried to hide, but sometimes it looked like Jaime was flirting with him, and he didn't know how to react.
It wasn't the time and place to think about that, though. A gigantic man was approaching them, armed of a long sword and a lit torch. He was seven feet tall and all muscles, with a bright red beard and a broken nose. His blade was dripping blood, making Jorah's heart clench. He couldn't help but wonder if some of his men were dead, and who. Most of the time they defeated the wildlings who came raiding their lands with relative ease, but sometimes his men left the battleground badly wounded, or worse. And this gigantic wildling looked like very bad news.
- "Together?", he asked Jaime, already approaching the man on his right.
But he didn't hear any answer.
- "Jaime?", he asked again, surprised.
He glanced quickly towards the Lannister. Jaime had not moved, and his face looked strangely blank, which made Jorah worry immediately. He felt the urge to take the younger man in his arms and ask him what was wrong. But then the wildling came at him, swinging his red sword, and he only had the time to dodge. He held up his sword quickly to stop the next blow, but the other's strength was so great that the blow made him lose his balance and fall on his ass.
Then everything happened very quickly.
He saw the giant man advancing towards Jaime, who for some reason was still unmoving, just staring at the other man with empty eyes. Jorah must have somehow gotten back on his feet, because the next thing he knew he was placing himself between the two men and pushing Jaime to protect him from a mortal blow… and then suddenly he felt pain, a wild and burning pain, and his sword fell from his hand… someone was screaming, he was screaming, and there were bright flames in front of him, but he could hardly see through his watery eyes.
My arm is on fire, he realized, as he was kneeling on the ground and trying to extinguish the fire with his other hand. He felt like he was falling and falling, and he was so in pain that he couldn't stop, and he wondered if he was going to hit his head on the ground and just die... but then there were arms around him, holding him steady and safe. He heard someone call his name and he wanted to reply, but there was so much pain... instead he just closed his eyes and passed out.
When he woke up, Jorah felt like hours had passed by, but it had only been a few minutes. He was still in the forest where the fighting had taken place. Everything was very quiet now that the fighting was over. He could hear someone whining quietly though, but then he realized it was him and he stopped. He was the Lord of Bear Island, he couldn't let his men see him whine. One of his arms was hurting, a lot, though which one he wasn't sure. And he could feel that one of his hands was wounded too. He didn't want to look at his injured limbs quite yet though.
- "Jorah. Jorah can you hear me?", he heard a voice calling him. A familiar, well-loved voice, but with a hoarse and desperate tone he had never heard before.
His mouth was a bit numb, but he managed to let out a "I'm fine". It wasn't true, though. He was in agony. But no one needed to know that. He rested his head against the warm, welcoming chest behind him. It was comfortable, and it smelled nice…
- "Jaime?", he asked, realizing who was holding him. He tried to turn his head around but strong arms kept him in place, forbidding him to move.
- "Don't move. You're hurt."
- "But…"
- "And shut up. The healer is coming."
Jorah wanted to say that he felt just fine, even though the pain in his arm was terrible, but he sensed that Jaime was tensed, almost shaking, and decided to stay silent. They were both sitting on the ground, and Jaime's arms were around him, holding him tight. He'd had so many dreams about Jaime holding him like that… of course, none of them included him being half-burned on a battlefield, but whatever. He would enjoy this as long as he could.
He moved his head just a bit to rest more fully against Jaime's chest, and he felt the man's breath against his hair. It was nice. Jaime had apparently removed his chestplate, because there was only a thin tunique between Jorah's face and the man's bare skin. He could hear Jaime's heartbeat. It was beating a bit too fast, and Jorah wondered if that was because of the thrill of the fight, or because Jaime was worried about him.
He couldn't help but hope.
The beautiful blond man had haunted his dreams since he first saw him in King's Landing, dressed all in white and seated on the Iron Throne. he could remember the scene perfectly. There had been splatters of blood staining his white armor. Jaime had just killed the King he had swore to protect then, but his face showed neither regret nor malice. Jorah remembered when he had entered the Throne room, following Lord Eddard Stark and other Northmen after they had taken the city. Jaime was waiting for them on the Throne, King Aerys' bloody corpse laying on the floor. He was so young, just 16 years old, and he had tried to look defiant and sure of himself in front of Ned Stark. But Jorah had noticed his eyes immediately. They were not the eyes of a traitorous, arrogant man, no… They were the eyes of a lost, disillusioned young man who desperately needed help.
Of course, Jaime Lannister had never admitted to being in need of any kind of help, not in the two years he had spent on Bear Island. But from the moment their eyes had met in the Throne room, Jorah had sworn to himself that he would do everything in his power to make the young man happy and to keep him safe.
- "Jorah? You need to drink this. It's milk of the poppy, to dull your pain."
The young Lord Mormont couldn't help but smile, realizing that ever since Jaime had come to live on Bear Island two years prior, he's been the one to take care of Jorah and not the other way around. Jaime was always saving his ass in combat, always worrying when he was sick, always there when he didn't want to be alone.
He opened his lips to drink the beverage Jaime was giving him. A drop fell on his chin. He wanted to clean it away but Jaime was faster and caught it with two fingers. The touch felt like a caress, soft and warm… almost loving?, wondered a voice in his mind.
He couldn't help but hope.
For from the moment their eyes had met in the Throne room, Jorah had been desperately in love with the other man.
