A/N: I'm baaaaack!
Invitations
"Here." Fiyona muttered, pushing forth a tray filled with heaping piles of steaming breakfast foods.
Tentatively, Mara began to arrange the loaves of bread, plates of bacon, bowls of porridge and several different varieties of fruit around the tray. Although the handmaiden was well aware of Jaime Lannister's recent misfortune with the Starks holding him prisoner, feasting on this amount of food seemed rather excessive; even for a starved man.
"This is all for Ser Jaime?" She questioned, raising her curious eyes to the cook.
"It's what he requested, along with you being the one to deliver it." Lifting her cup of morning brew, Fiyona dropped a few sugar cubes in and began to stir it with a plump finger, her eyes trailing Mara suggestively. "Wonder why that might be."
Eyeing the older woman, Mara held her tongue. Fiyona had always enjoyed giving Mara a difficult time, but before it had always been in jest, now it was clearly fueled by cruelty. The desire to grab a rolling pin and smack the cook against the side of her head had filled the young handmaiden's veins more than once since arriving in the kitchens that morning, but she clenched her fists to her side and forced herself to remain silent instead.
"Quite an appetite, the Kingslayer has." Rand commented, making both Mara and Fiyona look up as he entered the kitchen reeking of manure.
"Indeed," Fiyona agreed, her eyes wandering back to Mara. "He's simply ravenous."
Collecting the tray of breakfast foods without another word to either of them, Mara pulled it forward; ignoring Fiyona and Rand's obnoxious chortles as she lifted it up and began to make her way towards the stairs.
"You know I heard rumors that you were a whore, Mara," The cook announced suddenly, staring at the young handmaiden with eyes shining. There was no fondness in them, not anymore. Instead it had been replaced by something cold and dead. "Never thought it was true."
"I did!" Rand stated proudly, grinning as he openly eyed Mara's body; ravaging her with his beady eyes.
With her back turned on the pair, Mara closed her eyes; fighting the urge to succumb to her rage and throw the breakfast tray at both their heads. Truly, there was nothing she could say in her defense. She could lie and deny it, but why go to all the trouble? She had been a whore; not for very long, but she'd still slept with men for coin, and if Bolton got his way he would soon be returning her to that same way of living.
After spending another few seconds remaining where she stood in the stairwell, Mara tried her best to shake off the shame she felt from Fiyona's words and continued up the corridor to deliver Jaime's breakfast.
"Mara," Jaime greeted her, a genuine smile spreading across his features when the young handmaiden knocked and entered his room.
Jaime knew that his chambers were probably the last place she wanted to be right now, but he couldn't resist indulging in every moment he had with the young woman. Being in the handmaiden's presence was the closest to happiness he'd felt in a very long time, and he intended to take full advantage of every second spent with her.
Over the past few days Mara had been avoiding Jaime. She would never flat out dodge him when he came to speak with her, but it was obvious that she didn't want to be near him. Although many men may have been discouraged, her treatment of him only increased his desire to get closer to her. Jaime had always enjoyed a challenge, and Mara was giving him a challenge worthy of his greatest sword fighting opponent.
Showing no real acknowledgement of his greeting, Mara stepped over to the small table by the window and set the breakfast tray down.
"Hungry this morning, are you?" She commented, nodding toward the platter of various breakfast foods arranged on the tray.
"I thought it would be kind to offer you breakfast as well," Stepping closer, Jaime gestured to the table. "Surely you can't get enough feeding on Bolton's leftovers."
Although it did seem that Jaime was merely trying to be courteous, Mara couldn't help but take the statement as a low blow to her current status. Did he honestly think that she wanted to work for Bolton; that she wanted to spend her days scrubbing floors and serving food to vile, gluttonous men? It just so happened to be the very last thing that she wanted, that is, next to being so tactlessly reminded about it.
"So very kind of you, Ser," Mara gushed with a slight curtsy, her every word dripping with sarcasm. "We lowborn girls are so rarely permitted to sup. Why, it's a wonder I'm even able to stand up straight without falling down!"
"Well if that ever happens to become the issue, my lady, you are of course welcome to my bed." Jaime replied with a smirk.
"Is that what you want from me? To be your whore?" She spat, that same fire that Jaime loved kindling deep within her eyes.
"Is there a particular reason why you hold such hatred towards whores?" Jaime asked, his interest suddenly piquing. Truly, she seemed most upset even by mention of the word, and it was not the first time in which he'd noticed it.
Marveling at his audaciousness, Mara shook her head in disbelief. "Were you not acting as the Stark's whore for the past year?" She replied, hardly missing a beat. "Tell me Jaime, did you enjoy the comparison?"
Hesitating, Jaime stared at her. Seven Hells she was smart, maybe even enough for her own good. If he had been anyone else that remark would have gotten her into a world of trouble. As it was, Jaime was not upset; in fact he was pleased that she had begun to feel comfortable enough to begin calling him by his given name again.
"Most women would jump at the chance for me to show such an interest in them." He stated simply.
"I'm not most women." Mara shot back with her same quickness.
Staring at her, Jaime smirked. Her words reminded him all too well of a time back at the Stark's camp when he'd traded words with Lady Catelyn and he'd told her that there were no men like him. Only him. While her words had made him think of himself, they also made him notice a fire within Mara that matched that of Ned Stark's wife; a fierceness that was not to be trifled with. Of course he'd seen more than this one side to the young handmaiden since arriving in Harrenhal, and he knew the disgust she felt towards him was newfound. He still had a chance to fix his mistakes with Mara, whereas with Lady Catelyn . . . well, he'd have been better off trying to reason with Rob Stark's direwolf.
Finally nodding his head in agreement, he continued in a gentle voice. "No, you're not."
Jaime obviously held a strong physical attraction to Mara. He'd have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to be interested, but he didn't want her for his whore. Not like that — never like that.
Lifting her hand to her mouth, she ran a finger over her bottom lip mindlessly; suddenly coming to the realization that she had just called Jaime by his first name. Wincing in spite of this recollection, as if in doing so she had lost a bet with herself, Mara groaned softly. "What is it that you want from me, Jaime?"
Wasting no time, Jaime strode forward, taking her face in his hand and pulling her close. "I want you to tell me why you can barely look at me," Gently forcing her chin upward, he inhaled sharply. "I want you to tell me what it is I've done to make you so disgusted with me." Stroking his thumb along her cheek, he hesitated as he stared into her sweet, honest eyes. "That night we spent together was the only time I've felt like myself in years . . . " Losing himself in the memories, he paused, then cleared his throat. He'd allowed himself to become vulnerable with her before, but this time he was clear of the fever and in complete control of his emotions. As much as he enjoyed spending time with the girl, he didn't want her to think he was some sort of nance.
Finally returning to his earlier thought, he continued in a gentle voice. "I think I know what it is, but I have to hear it from you."
Mara had craved a physical closeness to match the emotional one she'd felt for Jaime since meeting him, and now that she finally had it she could feel her desire igniting; arching up in a desperate attempt for more. But she couldn't forget why she was upset; she couldn't let this brief moment of pleasure turn into anything more, not until she knew the truth.
"Are you in love with your sister?"
Jaime hesitated as he took in the severity of her question. So there it was. Of course those were the rumors that had driven Mara to become so upset. Even though being with Cersei seemed like a lifetime ago after what he'd been through, Jaime had to remind himself that it was a lifetime based on truth, not rumor. What Jaime said next meant everything; it would determine whether or not he would continue this relationship built on truth, or lies. Thus far Mara had received nothing but the truth from him, and he had relished in that fact. For the first time in ages Jaime had felt close enough to someone to allow himself to be vulnerable in front of them. He didn't want to give that up — he wouldn't — but he couldn't tell her the truth either. There was no way she would understand. Nobody understood.
Gently releasing her, Jaime turned away for a brief moment. "I love my sister tremendously," He began, making sure to choose his words extremely carefully. After a few more seconds passed, he turned around to face her once more.
Keeping her eyes at level with his, Mara held her breath.
"And I love her just as any brother should love his sister."
Exhaling that same breath, Mara resisted the urge to fall down to her knees in relief.
Sensing the handmaiden's alleviation at his confession, the Kingslayer took a deep breath himself, but on the inside it chafed him. She had already become so trusting of him, and he had just told her a bold-faced lie. Jaime didn't want to lie to Mara; he didn't want to go any further not being completely honest with her, but she wouldn't understand, and if she didn't understand she would begin to hate him like all the rest. He couldn't have that.
"Then why stay in Harrenhal when you have a family to go back to? Why risk your life? Any number of things could happen to change Bolton's mind, Jaime. You're being foolish."
"You're the first person to show me kindness in seventeen years; the first person who's been honest with me," Jaime knew that everything Mara warned him of was true, but it didn't seem to matter anymore. In the past he had not been concerned with anyone else's needs but his own, but he was beginning to feel a shift in those motives. "I wanted to hold onto that — to hold onto you — for as long as possible . . . I still do."
"There's plenty of people who would show you kindness—"
"I prefer genuine kindness," He replied swiftly. "Seventeen years of nothing but people scoffing behind my back; glaring at me with such loathing. Can you honestly blame me for wanting the real thing?"
The truth was, she could not.
"Now it's my turn to ask you a question," Jaime began, his emerald eyes still locked on her almond colored ones. "Why is it so important? Why did you care enough to get to the bottom of a disgusting rumor that's been following me around for the past year?"
"Because . . . " Hesitating, Mara looked around the room helplessly. "Because I couldn't bear the thought of having spent so much of my time with a man who may have single-handedly started a war over such vile reasons. Because I needed to know that it wasn't true."
"But why? Why do you care so much?" Jaime asked desperately, gazing at her.
"I care." Mara stated, a look of finality in her eyes.
Slowly smiling, Jaime nodded his understanding. "Well, that makes two of us." Extending his arm towards the table once more, he continued. "Please, dine with me."
None of it made sense; their mutual trust in each other after knowing one and other for such a short amount of time, but Mara wasn't going to question it. They were finally getting back to that same place of comfort that they'd so seamlessly entered to begin with, and it was clear that they both needed it. For whatever reason, Mara trusted Jaime. It wasn't about safety; she didn't need anyone to protect her, it was something else entirely . . . something she had not yet discovered.
With that in mind, Mara took a step towards the table, smoothed out her skirts, and sat down.
"Do you enjoy working here?" Jaime asked casually, picking up a pitcher of water and pouring her a cup.
"Dream come true." Mara replied bitingly, picking up a ripe nectarine and rolling it around in the center of her palm.
Grinning, Jaime nodded his understanding. "My father once told me that Harrenhal was the greatest fortress ever built; the tallest towers and the strongest walls . . . now it's nothing but a sad, blasted ruin that should've been long forgotten." Picking at the bacon on his plate, he took a bite and chewed thoughtfully as he continued. "Bolton is a fool if he considers being anointed Head of Harrenhal an honor."
"Bolton is many things," Mara began in a soft, cautious tone, "But he is no fool."
Considering her warning, Jaime finished off his first piece of bacon and picked up another. "Did he give you any trouble last night, after our meeting?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle." Mara replied briskly, pressing the fruit to her lips.
Clenching his jaw, Jaime forced himself to swallow down the last bite of bacon he'd taken. He didn't want Bolton handling Mara, not at all.
Sensing Jaime's discomfort, Mara felt it best to change the subject. Taking a bite of nectarine, she then set it down on a plate. "How are you healing?" She asked, wiping her fingers off on a cloth napkin.
"I don't know," Jaime admitted, not having looked at his hand since the first day he'd arrived at Harrenhal. Truthfully, he'd tried to avoid it as much as possible.
"Let me see," She instructed softly, moving her hand to take his.
"This isn't a duty call, I asked you here to join me for breakfast," He muttered, attempting to hide his stump as he crossed his arms, but then flinching as he did.
Seeing that this rash movement had hurt him, she stood up from the table and moved to his side. "I'm not doing it out of any sort of duty, I'm doing it because I want to."
Ignoring his childish protests, Mara gently pulled his right arm forward, her long fingers slowly peeling away the cloth to reveal Jaime's maimed stump. Feeling her hand, the Kingslayer closed his eyes in shame. Although he had indeed found an ease with Mara that he'd yet to find with anyone else, there were still certain things he wasn't sure he could ever get used to.
Gently running her finger along his wrist, she saw that the angry red marks were beginning to heal, his flesh working its way to cover the bone of his wrist.
"You don't need to see this," He whispered roughly, attempting to pull his arm away once more when Mara clamped her hand down on it.
Keeping her eyes on his, she shook her head. "I'm not looking at it, I'm looking at you," Tilting her head, she raised his chin with her other hand, forcing him to look at her. "And if you'd stop acting like such a child, you'd see that it's healing quite nicely."
Slowly breaking his gaze from Mara's, Jaime glanced down to find that she was right. Of course he hadn't miraculously grown his hand back, but Qyburn had done a tremendous job purifying and stitching the wound back together.
Calmly looking down at her in amazement, Jaime couldn't help but smile. After a few seconds spent indulging in the feel of her hand, he shook his head. "Still, I suppose I can kiss being a Knight of the Kingsguard goodbye."
Leaning back to look at him, Mara frowned. "Why?"
"Well, my lady, it may have escaped your attention, but I appear to be missing my sword hand . . . "
Rolling her eyes, Mara stood to collect a roll of fresh bandages from Jaime's bedside table. "Now I know I'm merely a simple, lowborn handmaiden . . . " Catching Jaime's eye, she smirked as the same expression graced his lips. "But I do know that it only takes one hand to wield a sword."
"What are you proposing?" He asked curiously.
"I just think it's foolish of you to presume you're no longer able to handle a sword. You still have a hand," Kneeling back down beside him, she slid her fingers through his and raised his hand in her own as if to prove this. "See?" Brushing her thumb across his knuckles, she smiled. "So use it."
Gently squeezing Mara's hand into his own, Jaime felt his lips beginning to twitch into something of a smile, but then shook his head dismissively. "I can barely feed myself with my left hand, let alone use it to protect the king. I can hold a sword, but all of my instincts are wrong."
Taking Jaime's right arm once more, Mara began to gradually wrap the fresh bandages around his wrist. "Funny, I was under the impression that Jaime Lannister indulged in challenges."
Keeping his gaze on Mara, Jaime felt himself faltering. The woman had known him for little over a week now, and yet she appeared to know him better than himself. Such a kind, intelligent, vivacious woman did not deserve to be hidden away in some desolate castle in the north.
"You don't belong here," Jaime said suddenly. Sensing her confusion, he continued. "In Harrenhal."
"Where do I belong?" She asked slowly, tucking the end of the bandage beneath his wrist.
"I haven't quite figured that out yet," He admitted.
Standing once more, Mara brought her eyes level to Jaime's, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Well, be sure to let me know when you do."
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this latest update. I apologize that it took me so appallingly long to post, but I finally found my muse again with last night's premiere. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. I always find it helps me with the progression of the story! :)
