March 17, 2015
Week 26, 281 AC

In my mind, I had an image of Jaime Lannister. What I imagined him to look like; what I imagined him to talk like; how I imagined he would treat me. After he rode inside the gates of Riverrun with his father's retainers, I realised he is… different, somewhat, than that. He is arrogant, yes. He is proud, yes. But he seems rather un-monster-like. From what I have seen in the past four weeks in his company, he doesn't seem like someone to murder innocents or do anything against his knightly oaths really - it's clear that he tries his best to uphold them. I'm not saying he's completely unlike his father, of course, since he might just be hiding his true colours, but he is not at all like I expected.

He was chivalrous when we welcomed him, I give him that. A good first impression. That he is easy on the eyes doesn't hurt. Jaime Lannister is tall, golden-haired and has this sharp, winning smile. Prince Charming-level handsome, even. He looks every bit a knight from the illustrated books about Westeros' Age of Heroes. I think on seeing him in flesh, Lord Hoster truly felt his life's mission on the road to accomplishment - Uncle Brynden told me he was worried his brother might just trip himself from the meeting with his future good-brother. Jaime's eyes lingered on Cat for a second, and truly I don't blame him; she's the more beautiful of the two of us. I'm the one with less sharp features, the more skinny one, which is not really a good thing. Still, he kissed the back of my hand and I gave him a polite smile. I was introduced to his companion, Ser Addam Marbrand, heir to Ashemark, and Edmure took to the two of them as quickly as he had taken to Brandon Stark and his companions eight months ago. My little brother wanted to be the one to lead them in and show them Riverrun, at which point Lord Hoster determined that he was misbehaving and Septa Myana was promptly asked to escort him away. I think the old man wanted to prevent some sort imagined shame Edmure would obviously bring to the Tully name in front of a Lannister. To everyone's surprise, my betrothed laughed it off and said that he would not mind to be shown in by the heir to the riverlands, "it would be an honour indeed," at which point I became suspicious of some sort of trick. Jaime seemed rather… amused by the exchange, and smirked as though he were sharing a joke with himself. If that were possible.

I actually asked him, worried that he might actually be mean to Edmure at the end - I had seen enough of this 'only pretending to be kind while I plan your humiliation' attitude in my old school. "Does something amuse you, ser?" I wondered, quiet enough that Lord Hoster or Catelyn might not overhear and hiss at me for impudence. Jaime seemed startled at my question, but slowly reverted back to his half-smirking, half-curious expression. "Why, nothing, my lady. Nothing at all," he answered. I narrowed my eyes but continued walking at his side. Absurd, is what I remember thinking.

The feast, though, was not as absurd. The kitchens had prepared fantastic food for our guests, of which predictably Jaime was made to sit between Cat and I. Edmure in his excitement demanded stories from him about defeating the 'bad men', and Ser Jaime obliged. Even Uncle Brynden (who he insisted on calling Ser Blackfish) listened to everything that had occurred opposing the Kingswood Brotherhood from the horse's mouth. He spoke of his idol, the "truest knight in all the seven realms", Ser Arthur Dayne, who had knighted him on the battlefield. Then there was a customary fanboy lecture about this Dornish Kingsguard, by which time I caught Ser Addam Marbrand's gaze. He rolled his eyes at Jaime when he saw me looking and made faces. It took quite some effort to hide my laughter at that.

Other than the hero worship, Jaime did present an impressive tale of the skirmishes. He had himself crossed swords with a biggie of the Brotherhood once, if he was to be believed (later I found out the so-called Smiling Knight had in fact fought Jaime to eventually killed by the Westerosi Superman Arthur Dayne). When one of the assaults led by Ser Barristan the Bold of the Kingsguard was compared to a particular hit-and-run by the Dornishmen in First War for Dorne, I surprised myself, Jaime as well as half the table by contributing my by now significant historical knowledge to the discussion. Lord Hoster gave me a queer look. Oh, shock of shocks! I actually did things in the library other than "fool around" with my older cousin!

He isn't as bad a guy as I wanted to think. His fanboying does define him, what with pestering Uncle Brynden for war stories and listening on with awe, talking about just how great Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan the Bold are in person. My uncle found it amusing, to say the least. Edmure's eagerness was satiated well enough. Eventually by the end of supper we had actually exchanged more than few words and I saw Cat smiling silently from the corner of my eye. Later that night she told me that while it wasn't much, it was a start.

I briefly watched him train with Ser Addam a few days later when I noticed that his self-confessed prowess with the sword was not entirely false. He is good. Now, I'm not one to judge someone's skills with weapons; I'm not at all one for striking at people or shooting arrows towards them or whatever, but for Jaime the sword didn't just seem like something to attack others with - it was as though that blunt-edged thing with an ordinary scabbard, a tourney sword they call it, was merely an extension of his hand. He moved as though it was a part of his body. It seemed… I don't know, unreal. And just as Jaime saw Ser Arthur as his god, Edmure was starting to see him.

They stayed at Riverrun for two weeks before the time came to leave. In those weeks I actually had conversations with my fiance, where he asked me about myself and what I liked. Typical first date questions. When I told him my love of books, especially historical ones, he beamed and told me that I would get along with his younger brother, Tyrion, just fine. I think the politically correct term for Tyrion Lannister is "little person", but most Westerosi would rather just call him "dwarf" or "Imp" and be done with it. Jaime isn't one to say such mind you - and I'm quite impressed at the amount of affection he claims to show his eight year old brother. No one else seems to think highly of the poor kid among the party that is to escort us to Casterly Rock, other than Ser Addam who hinted that Lord Monster Lannister does not give his younger son the love he deserves, either. Unsurprising. But from what the two of them - Ser Addam and Jaime - have told me, he seems like an intelligent and keen young boy who I am curious to meet. Jaime let it be known to me, in a low, warning tone, that under no circumstances was I to treat Tyrion with anything other than kindness. I assured him I was not such a cruel person, which relieved him greatly. Then he was back to smirking arrogantly and telling me about the battle prowess of his uncle Tygett. He cares for his family, I know that. It is something I can appreciate.

He also speaks often of his twin sister, Cersei, who is rumoured to be (according to Shirei) a beauty rivaling the Targaryens. "She is far more beautiful than that," Jaime snorted when I mentioned that. "Targaryens? They are no match for my sweet sister." That led to a discussion about our lovely monarchs; and Jaime looked around warily for a moment or two before admitting that the King wasn't quite what he had expected. "Then again," he smirked, "You're not quite what I expected either." Yes, Jaime, I'm not exactly your... er, regular Westerosi noblewoman. "Likewise," I replied.

Jaime, as I've learnt, is probably dyslexic in some measure. He told me that as a small boy he had found it most difficult to read, and his father, a hard man if there ever was one, had made him peruse texts despite incessant crying and tantrums. "The letters danced around the page more often than not," he confided. Suffice to say, books aren't his cup of tea at all. A dagger is preferable to him at any time of the day to some rusty old tome. "I wouldn't know what to do with it," he said. Can't say I don't know his type. I've learnt that few men in the Seven Kingdoms are anything like Marq, and Ser Jaime Lannister is only one among the majority.

Another celebration was held at Riverrun before we left, for my nameday. The thought hadn't struck me at all. Yet I was presented with a variety of presents, both for that as well as for farewell - it is generally understood that I won't be coming back until Cat's wedding to Brandon in the second month next year. Catelyn gave me three more of her handmade dresses, all in Tully colours, and I admit they're beautiful. She's masterful at this; as good at it as I am bad. Edmure shyly gave me a small wooden model of Riverrun that he had helped carve and paint. Our uncle's idea no doubt. Lord Hoster gave me jewellery, as did Jaime (who I totally hadn't expected anything from, but when I voiced that I was not-so-subtly glared at by Lord Hoster). Shirei shoved a hastily wrapped box in my hand which contained a single glistening dagger: "Don't give me that look, I know your hate for sharp objects. Only I'd feel better knowing that you at least tried defending yourself from some Westerlands bandits while your Ser Jaime ran away cowering in fear." Cat looked horrified in some measure on overhearing that, but I only laughed. Only Shirei could say something like that on her friend's birthday.

Uncle Brynden handed me his own gift only later, the day of my leaving, in private away from prying ears. "I knew not what to give you at first," he confessed, "Not after how you've grown in the past year. The time for dolls and such is gone, now." It is a dainty silver chain with a miniscule pendant representing a bat circling a trout - no end to the emphasis on sigils and animals and the like. It apparently once belonged to my 'mother', Minisa Whent by birth, and had somehow fallen into the possession of Uncle Brynden. I had the decency to not ask how; though I'm certain that if I had the question would have been ignored. It is a beautiful item, frankly, and I'm glad to own it. I thanked him for the same.

Regardless, we are now nearly two weeks into the journey to Casterly Rock. To my genuine surprise the days and evenings are not quite as boring as I would have thought; Jaime can be pleasant enough company when he isn't being an arrogant little prick - in which case I pointedly ignore him and prompt a humoured Ser Addam to do so as well. Soon as he tires of solitude, he plays down his act and at least tries to be halfway decent. It's not the best of relationships I can have with a future husband, but it will have to do for now.

notes: Jaime's here! Yay! Hats off to he who slays the king in the foreseeable future... (Or does he? ;))

I know I haven't updated for a while, and I apologise for that, but I do have an excuse. My AS Levels started just last week and I already feel like they're leeching the life out of me with killer math papers. The exam schedule is more spaced out from now on, but I'm afraid I still might not be able to update as regularly as I used to :(

In any case, thank you very much for the recent reviews, favourites and follows. Everytime I open my mail I feel overjoyed at the great response I've received, either for this story or for my Daenerys AUs. Comments really do make my day, so I hope to see some more when I wake up tomorrow!