Jaime
Jaime wasn't quite sure which was more a depressing duty to be given, guarding the queen's chambers at night, or Alys Starks during the day.
Perhaps it depends upon the day. At least it does when it comes to Queen Rhaella.
Those he always hated when there has been a burning. It did nothing but make him feel completely and utterly useless, cemented with the harsh reality of the fact that his vows to protect the weak were overruled by his vows to protect the king. Keep the king's secrets. Never judge the king as that wasn't for the Kingsguard to do.
Jaime vaguely recalls hearing somewhere that only the gods above can judge a King.
But those evenings guarding the queen had gotten easier as he found himself quite proficient with drifting off within himself. Recalling sweet memories of his lovely sister. The taste of her lips, the feel of her body against his, the sweet smell of her hair. How he missed his sister. Sometimes falling into those memories only made him miss her more, so he'd move to memories of Tyrion, or simply just memories of Casterly Rock growing up.
Sometimes he tried to recall everything he could about his mother. But he always found himself irritated by how off everything he remembered felt.
Guarding the queen was usually depressing.
Though so was Alys Stark, but that had also become exceedingly boring.
Since their outbursts at each other— something that he continues to tell himself was justified no matter how much guilt he feels regarding it— she's quieted herself immensely. The trips to the Godswood have stopped, apparently even with Selmy or so Jaime was told. And from the bits he's spotted whenever the handmaid goes in or out, Alys spends most of her days curled upon her bed— which only sends a sharper stab of guilt in Jaime's gut that he has to rationalize away— or sat by the hearth, a book open half way that she never seems to finish.
I have no reason to feel guilt, he tells himself, it was only the truth, father always told the truth regardless of how painful it might be to someone.
Jaime can recall clearly when his father had told him that his mother had passed. Earlier that day, when she was still in labor and had yet to die, the entire castle had been filled with giddy excitement.
Excitement that turned sharply to grief with her last breath.
Jaime would have expected his father to be awash with it, tears and red faced. But the Lion of the Rock kept face whenever he might be seen, even if only by his own children. When he sat Cersei and Jaime down he was stone faced, laying the words of their mothers' death out fact for fact. The only emotion in his fathers' voice that he could recall from that conversation was the distaste laced in his words when he had spoken of Tyrion, who hadn't even been named yet as he was expected to follow their mother into death.
His father had been just as blunt when he left with Cersei to Kings Landing. As well as when he sent Jaime to foster at Crakehall. He never sugarcoated his words. Never lied to spare anyone's feelings, not even that of his children.
Besides, both Tywin and Cersei would likely tell Jaime he has no reason to feel for the wolf girl. No reason to comfort her and be kind to her when it would get him little advantage.
But still, Jaime has issue shaking the looming feeling of guilt over him as the weeks pass.
Jaime is standing guard outside her door one morning when the handmaid says her first words to him since she entered Alys's service. "What did you say to her?" the girls tone is harshly accusing, her eyes light blue daggers that seem to threaten to slit his throat at the wrong word.
"Why would you presume I've ever said a thing to her? I'm a guard not her confidante handmaid." He glares down at the girl.
Why should he answer her anything? What was she, or Alys, to him aside from an annoyance?
Besides, he'd said nothing that hadn't needed to be said.
The girl isn't deterred by his tone though, narrowing her eyes and stepping closer. "She's not said a word since the last trip you two took into the godswood, I imagine you had something to do with that. So I'll ask again, what did you say to her?"
"Nothing but the truth that everyone is so remorse to say," Jaime waves the girl off and turns away, hoping to be done with the conversation. He doesn't need a handmaid to add more unwarranted guilt upon him.
But the handmaid stays in her spot staring him down. He returns her stare with one of utter indifference, "do you not have some chamber pot to change, or perhaps a fire to tend to? Hair to brush?"
"You feel no remorse?" She questions, gaze still just as sharp. "For making her situation worse than it already is? She doesn't deserve to be miserable and feel doomed." When he does not respond the girl lets out an exasperated noise, "I'm going to get her to the Godswood today, whether she likes it or not. As I'll not have her rot away in that windowless room. If you could perhaps be kind, or perhaps just not speak if you have nothing nice to say."
And with that she is gone through the door, leaving Jaime alone within the hall with a new weight of guilt threatening to fall upon him.
Alys
Alys lies watching a small spider crawl up the wall, her eyes following it as it returns to the webs it had created in the corner. Aleah enters just as it begins to spin new strings to its home.
"Up," her handmaid says, her voice firm and authoritative. "You've wallowed long enough, your skin was already deathly pale when you arrived, and the day is sunny and warm. So we'll visit the Godswood."
Alys simply sighs and turns over in her bed. But within seconds her sheets are ripped from her form and Aleah is stood with them rolled in her arms, "up." The fair haired girl says again, her face as stern and pushing as her voice.
"I don't want to go to the Godswood," Alys states, her voice sounds odd to her, she's said little to nothing these last few weeks and it's become a stranger to her. Throaty and harsh. Utterly unfamiliar. "I'd rather stay in here."
"Why is that? I personally would be screaming mad if I were stuck in this room as long as you've sequestered yourself within." Aleah sets the sheets upon the bed and moves to the wardrobe. As she awaits an answer she searches through the dresses before settling on a dark blue one with purple detailing. "Come on," she motions Alys over. "Please don't make me pull you from that bed and force this dress onto you like a child."
Alys sighs once more and gives in to this much. She can dress me but that doesn't mean I must go anywhere.
"Now, why would you rather stay in this room? Honesty please?"
"There is no point," Alys looks at her feet rather than the reflection in the mirror, standing still as she can while Aleah messes about with the dress. "I know what people think, Aleah. I have no place here at court but as a hostage. Might as well stay within my cell." She sucks in a breath as Aleah begins lacing her dress behind her, "I don't even know that I'm allowed anywhere but this room." She glances up when Aleah finishes the laces and walks around her.
"That's not true, and if it is perhaps it can be fixed." Her eyes are gentle towards Alys, though since Jaime's words she's wondered why Aleah has tried so hard to be kind, talked to her, spent time with her.
She feels sorry for me, and she has to talk to me as my handmaid, Alys tells herself as Aleah sat her at the vanity and began to fix her mess of hair. She's likely been told to keep an eye on me as well. To be sure that I won't try anything before they decide to get rid of me. To be sure I don't try to run or… or end myself.
A light tug on her hair brings her thoughts to a halt. "Stop with that worrying face," Aleah says with annoyance to her voice, "I'm quite tired of seeing it." Her hands have stopped their braiding and she's glaring in a strangely caring way through the mirror at Alys.
"You sound like my mother." Alys says without thought. She pauses, chewing her lip as Aleah gives a curious look. "She would always get on me or my brother Ned about looking so down all the time. The others never had that problem. Brandon and Lyanna were always laughing and running about, never worrying over anything. And Benjen, well Benjens lips are in a permanent smile. Though he was never quite as wild as the other two." She doesn't know why she says this, it hurts thinking of family. But it just comes spilling from her lips and Aleah gives her a smile that doesn't deter her from saying it.
"Your mother is right," Aleah states. She finishes the braids in Alys' hair and smiles gently at their reflections before a concerned look falls on her face. "I know that Ser Jaime said something to you, what exactly I'm unsure but I can guess it had to do with the fact that many at court feel you are not likely to last long before something happens to you." She avoids the words, before Aerys burns you like your father, but Alys knew that was what was implied. "But that doesn't mean you should simply give up and wallow in the sadness. You're not dead yet my dear, and if you make it through this you'll think yourself silly for giving up so soon."
"Why?" Alys says after some silence, "if the word is true and my brother is going to war, I'm likely to get killed before he ever reaches me."
"You'd make poor hostage and bargaining piece if they killed you," Aleah informs her, holding a hand out to her so they can walk towards the door. "Remember that. The king might not think of it but his Hand realized that you are most valuable alive, to bargain for peace or to keep the north in place after."
After Ned is dead. Alys shuts her eyes for a moment and sighs. Please Ned, be smart, be safe. "Very well, I can't promise I'll be happy. But I'll try to at least not give up completely." At least not so soon.
Jaime
The Stark girl doesn't look or acknowledge him when she and her handmaid exit the room and start walking in the direction of the Godswood. Jaime simply follows behind like a shiny plated shadow.
Good, he tells himself as he's left unacknowledged. For the best, no use getting attached. It would be like getting attached to the chicken that you'll be eating come dinner.
Though, Alys Stark was quite more interesting and amiable than a chicken. Prettier as well, though that hadn't ever drawn Jaime to girls or chickens. No, he had no real explanation for why he felt a stab of hurt while the two girls chatted away, the handmaid doing most of the chatting. He stays a foot back, left unseen and never even worth sneaking a glance.
It is for the best. Let her hate you while you ignore her.
Still, as there was little else to pay attention to he couldn't help but listen in on the two girls' silly conversations as they wandered the godswood.
The handmaid spoke first of court gossip, this lord and that, or this lady with that knight. Jaime had always found that drivel annoying at best and downright infuriating at the worst. Whenever he'd been with Cersei as she sat with her own lady companions the conversations he'd hear nearly made him wish he could throw himself from the window of whatever tower was tallest nearby. The only comfort he had then was the closeness to Cersei, and the fact that after the pair of them would share in their dislike of those gossiping ladies.
But Cersei was not here and thus Jaime found himself dipping out of the conversation anytime a lord screwing this other lady came up.
"I've never been any further north than Kings Landing myself," the handmaid says at some point, "could you tell me of the North? Only if you want of course."
Jaime noticed Alys pause and glance towards her feet, a hurt sort of look crossed her face before she let out a gentle sigh. "It's not so cold as people make it out to be… well I mean it is, in fall and winter. But the summers are nice, a sweet warmth to the air and not so cold as winter." The smallest smile pulls at her lips as she thinks on it, "even during summer snows, it's still warm enough to enjoy. Though I'm sure most southerners would still find it colder than they would prefer." She tilts her head inquisitively at the handmaid, "I'm sorry, I've never asked, where are you from?"
"The Reach, my lady." She replies, "near Horn Hill."
"Well I've never been that far south myself," Alys states with a sweet smile. "Will you tell me of it? I've heard the Reach has the prettiest flowers and the sweetest fruits."
"Oh they do," The handmaid laughs and Jaime zones back out as she told the Stark girl of her home and knightly father and how she came to service in Kings Landing.
Jaime is nearly lost in his thoughts when a voice calls to him. Startled, he looks away from the tree his eyes had settled upon and towards the voice. Alys looks at him now, though her eyes still hold hurt behind them as they look at him but they now also have a question. She tilts her head, and Jaime realizes he'd missed whatever she was asking.
"I'm sorry? I wasn't aware I was here for your conversations." He responds, and she shakes her head and starts to move on. "What was the question?"
She turns, a brow raised and dark eyes wary. "What is Casterly Rock like? Since Aleah and I were on the topic of childhood homes." She smirks an almost teasing smile, "you know some northern lords have joked over ale that the Keep of Casterly Rock is made of solid gold. Though others say it is simply painted that color to fool us all."
"I'm afraid neither," he states, moving to walk at pace with the girls. "Still, it is likely a grander and more expensive looking keep than most in the North." He jests, which receives him the smallest turn up of her lip and a roll of her eyes.
"Perhaps, but glitter and gold only go so far when it comes to surviving winter."
"Oh yes, those are your words are they not? Winter is Coming. So foreboding, no wonder you Starks are considered to be serious and dour folk in the south." Her face sours at that, and he begins to wonder if he's poked to hard too soon when she shakes her head and laughs. It's small, and laced with the slight tone of grief, but still a small laugh that gives Jaime a bit of pleasure to have elicited it from her.
Idiot, he thinks, why did he still talk to her as though she were simply a pretty girl to pass clever conversation with. She's doomed, if you attach yourself it will only hurt more.
"You're not entirely wrong," she shrugs and sighs, "my father was rather serious, though out of my siblings my brother Ned and I have been regarded as the most dour." She smiles, "Ned more so than me, he always is so serious. Lyanna was always there to keep me from being quite as bad."
Stop with the conversing and return to simply guarding the girl, he tells himself. He gives just a simple noise in reply and lets the conversation fall away from them. After a few moments of silent walking, with him slowly loosening his pace so the slight distance returns to them, the handmaid brings up some new conversation and Jaime is relieved of speaking for the rest of their walking about.
When they eventually return to the Maiden Vault Barristan is waiting to relieve Jaime of his watch.
Handing off the Stark girl, Jaime starts towards the kitchens in hopes of some food and perhaps an ale so he can spend the next hour or so that he is off duty in some sort of relative peace before he heads to his shift guarding the Queen and prince Viserys in the evening. He's rounded the corner down the stairwell when the Stark girls' handmaid, Aleah he believes she was named, catches pace with him and gives a stern look of disapproval that Jaime simply responds to with a raised brow and silence.
"You shouldn't be so rude to her." She says finally after a several steps of silence.
"I wasn't rude." He states tersely. "I responded to her questions. Besides as I told her before my job is to guard her, make sure she doesn't go running off or something stupid like that. Not to converse with her as though we were friends."
"But you did," Aleah states pointedly as they turn the corner and exit out onto a walkway. "At least you did until you realized that was what you were doing."
He glances at her, his brows furrowed as he shakes his head, "I was not, and you should guard yourself as well. You know what her fate holds."
"Maybe, maybe not." Aleah states, "I've been here at court longer than you Ser, so do not presume I don't have a solid understanding of how the King fares. And how those in his custody tend to turn out." Jaime sighs, memories and thoughts of those Aerys had burnt were stuck in his mind, they were hard images to forget. "But, whatever her fate is she doesn't deserve to be miserable and friendless before she meets it."
"There is nothing I can do." He shrugs turning into the kitchens closest to the Kingsguard quarters. "I don't plan on getting in any sort of trouble because I became fond of the wounded horse as it were."
"Then don't get attached," Aleah says, "but stop being rude. You can still speak with her; conversation won't hurt you. Keep yourself distant and detached during it but don't ignore her." They've entered the kitchen, and he watches her fetch some fruits and meats, "you like her, regardless of whether you let yourself or not. She's innocent in this all, and easy to like, that's why you speak so easily with her when you forget yourself."
And then she was gone, leaving him with a sour mood to fetch his own food.