"Ser Jaime Lannister… someone forgot to write down all your great deeds."
She was too beautiful to be a bastard. The plain gown adorned, the corse hands; the grease-stained face. The silver hair still shimmered like a beacon when the night was at its darkest. Those haunting violet eyes cast an image one could never quite remove from one's mind. She was like a ghost, never seen and never heard - but always there.
i. Jaime was not the curious type.
It had been a month since he arrived in Kingslanding. Enslaved by the maddened King in hopes of comforting his lonely sister, only to be abandoned by those few he loved. He quickly learned that serving the King was no honour. The smell of burning flesh had begun to sept into the walls, lurking the halls as a reminder of his place.
Defend the King. Obey the King. Your life for his.
The first time he saw her was in the gardens, standing guard for the Dornish Princess and her friend as they broke fast in the morning light. Only a small glimpse of her silver hair was enough to enthral him. She was sweeping the dead flower petals to the side of the stone path, with no notice of his eyes staring in awe.
And then she was gone.
It was another week before he saw her again. This time in the dungeons, looking very out of place. He had been ordered to bring Aerys' next play toy up to the throne room when he saw her at the other end of the corridor of cells. She was placing small pieces of bread outside each cell, careful to move silently as so not to alert the distraught prisoners. It was the first time he saw her eyes, flickering with the reflection of a torch.
They were violet, so much like the Crown Prince's.
It was then Jaime knew he had to ask. He had quietly mentioned it during resting period to his fellow Kingsguard Sir Arthur Dayne. He only confirmed what Jaime suspected, before quickly warning him not to dig. She was the King's bastard -not acknowledged - but had a close eye kept on her all the same. The realm didn't need another misbehaving Blackfyre.
ii. She had been crying.
He was staring again, this time outside the throne room, as she swept the floors silently with no other company in sight. The Lions never held much sympathy, but he had always held a place in his heart for cripples and bastards. The sight before him was strange and unfamiliar, almost human.
He had never seen a dragon cry.
The young Prince Aegon may wail for his mother's breast, but never out of such immense sorrow. Perhaps it's the common blood, from whichever whore birthed her. Perhaps the flames had been put out by the bleak life of sweeping the way for those who would have bowed to her. Whatever it was, Jaime found himself too intrigued to let it slip from his mind.
She reminded him of the Queen.
They held the same look of despair and mourning, leaving a disturbing guilt within his heart. What had caused such distraught for the delicate maiden? Was is the distinct smell of dead flesh filling the air? Was it that her father sat on the throne only a few hundred metres from her? Was it the servant's bickering and bitching? Was it a beau?
Jaime should not care.
But for some reason, this girl pulled him in. He shouldn't think of her as he does. With such interest and longing. His want to know her and comfort her was one different from anything he had felt before. These feelings, however, brought guilt. A guilt that taunted him every day. The King's bastard was by far the most beautiful woman in Westeros. More beautiful than his sister.
iii. Her voice was beautiful.
He was guarding the Princess Elia's chambers when the silver-haired beauty came strolling with her servant friend down the empty hallway, brooms in hand. She spoke quietly, yet loud enough for the youthful knight to hear. They talked in hushed voices about some boy the servant friend was having trouble with. Jaime would not know how to react if it was his infatuated who was involved with this nasty suitor.
Then her friend left.
She was left alone, sweeping the hallway in silence. He didn't dare break the silence. Her footsteps were silent as she continued her work, unaware of his eyes following her. Very rarely was he granted such a gift, a hallway alone with a woman he craved? If only she knew his desire, she would probably be scared. For a dragon, she wasn't so harsh. To admit weakness left you vulnerable in this pit of snakes. But it also showed there was humanity underneath.
Unlike his sister.
He had taken the white for Cersei. He had sacrificed everything from his inheritance to a title. He would forever remain Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard. Never a lord. It had never occurred to him until now that although he had never cared for anything but his sword, he had handed over his life for something as pointless as the sick love for his sister.
She hadn't written.
At first, she had sent him a thousand apologies and sorrowful letters, but that quickly declined. She had always wanted power. She would never run away with him. She craved to marry the Prince, with Jaime on the side watching forever. He would never be first in her eyes, no matter how much he loved her. But perhaps it was for the better. He would have left her for the sight in front of him in a heartbeat.