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megsironthrone · 4 years

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Smuggled Away

Based on this request: Hi! The request about a Bratheon!reader got me thinking, what if there's a similar situation where the reader's king robert's daughter or a stark or something like that and the reader ends up getting smuggled away when jamie leaves cersei in kings landing and ends up reuniting with jon snow at some point and she kinda ends up kindling a spark with jon snow and interrupts the whole jon Daenerys thing? i'm not sure if this request makes much sense or if it would be good or not > . <

Here you go, lovely! I changed it just a little and ended up making her a Lannister (mostly so I wouldn’t get this request and the Robb one confused while I was writing XD.) *Familiar characters are not mine!

Warnings: SLIGHT (POSSIBLE) SPOILERS FOR SEASON 8. FLUFF!!!!!!!!

Pairings/Characters: Jon Snow x fem!Lannister reader, Jaime Lannister, Sansa Stark, Daenerys Targaryen. Brief mentions of Tyrion Lannister as well.

You were hiding and listening when your aunt, Cersei told Jaime she had no intention of letting her army fight the Army of the Dead. You had always been disgusted with her, but now you were frightened. She cared more about the throne than the realm she was supposed to be protecting. And when she threatened to kill your Uncle Jaime, you became frightened for your life. If she would kill him, what was to stop her from killing you, the daughter of her most hated sibling?

"Uncle Jaime!" you cried, seeing him heading for his horse. He stopped and faced you with wide eyes. "What is it?" Your eyes filled with tears. "Don't leave me here. Please. I-She might…I can't stay here." He looked at you with sympathy. "I can't take you, Y/N. Cersei would never let you leave the city. Not when she could use you as leverage."

"Please, Uncle Jaime. My father hardly knows me. He kept his distance if only to protect me. She will kill me. Please." Jaime glanced around to make sure no one was around before he threw a cloak over your shoulders. "Keep the hood up and your head down. I'm no smuggler, but I will do my best." You tied the cloak and put the hood up as he hoisted you up onto his horse. You knew you were riding North, but you gave no thought to the fact that you and your former love would be reunited once more.

You stood behind Jaime with shaking knees. You kept your eyes on his back even though you wanted desperately to look at the faces of those people who would decide your fate. "Lady Brienne speaks highly of you, Ser Jaime. I say you should stay," Sansa said, making you breathe a sigh of relief. If they were willing to keep Jaime alive, maybe there was hope for you. After all, you hadn't done anything other than being a Lannister.

"Thank you, my lady. And, what of my niece?" At that, you finally looked up at Sansa and Daenerys. "And why should we allow your sister's daughter to remain? She could be a spy." You narrowed your eyes slightly. You did not like this woman. Not one bit. And you especially did not like the way she kept looking at Jon. Still, you knew you had to say something. Anything to convince her to let you stay.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace. But I am NOT Cersei's daughter. Tyrion Lannister is my father. My mother, his first wife, bore me in secret to protect me from Cersei and Tywin. It has only been the last few years that I have come to know my family. Would you punish a young woman for the sins of her family the way Robert Baratheon punished you for the sins of your father? Uncle Jaime smuggled me out of King's Landing to protect me. If you turn me away, then I shall return to my aunt's keeping as I have nowhere else to go. But then my blood will be on your hands."

The whole room went still and quiet as they watched with bated breath to see what Daenerys would say. You took that opportunity to glance at Jon for the first time since you'd arrived. Your own breath caught in your throat when you saw his eyes already on you. His lips were turned into a slight frown, but that was normal for him. And his eyes held a hint of the boy you used to know. The boy you had fallen in love with was now a young man. A handsome one too.

"I do not agree with allowing Lannisters into our midst. Lord Tyrion has proven himself loyal. The two of you have not. You have proven time and again that your loyalty is to Cersei." Daenerys said. She and Sansa exchanged glares before looking to Jon to keep the peace. Without taking his eyes off you, Jon replied, "I agree…with Sansa. We need every sword we can get in the fight." With that, he rose and left the room.

Daenerys looked heartbroken and more than a little angry. She got up and left the room in the opposite direction while Sansa came over to you. "Come. I'm certain you're freezing. Let's get you a bath and some dry clothes." You gave her a grateful smile as you followed her out. As you trailed behind her, Sansa spoke. "You know, of all the Lannisters I've met, you are by far my favorite. You aren't like your family."

"Perhaps because I was not raised by them, my lady." Sansa smiled and laughed softly. For a few seconds, she didn't speak. Then she said, "I believe you and Jon would be good together." You nearly tripped on the hem of your wet, dirty dress. "I-I…I don't know what you mean, my lady." Sansa giggled again, something that seemed out of place in her otherwise somber countenance.

"Everyone saw how Jon was looking at you in there. And I remember how close you were all those years ago. You loved Jon and I think you still do." You let out a sigh. "Of course I do. Even though I knew there was never any hope for us. The Imp's daughter and Ned Stark's bastard? As soon as my identity was discovered, I was shipped off to King's Landing to learn to be a proper lady and Jon was destined for the Wall. We were doomed before we even met."

"Now you sound like him," Sansa said with a sigh. She turned to look at you as you stopped outside one of the doors. "After you are cleaned up, you should talk to him." She opened the door and ushered you inside. As soon as you were settled, Sansa left and you enjoyed a warm bath. You let out a groan as the warmth began seeping into your sore muscles. You hadn't known how badly you needed to relax.

You heard the door open and sighed. You thought it was a handmaiden or someone that Sansa sent with a new dress, without opening your eyes, you said, "I can dress myself, thank you. Please just put the dress on the bed." For a moment, there was no response. Your brows furrowed and you were about to speak again when someone beat you to it.

"I think you have me mistaken for someone else." Your eyes flew open and you looked over at the door where Jon was still standing. He was a respectful distance away so he couldn't see anything, but you felt your skin heat up anyway. "J-Jon…the door." Jon's own face turned red. "I'll come back once you've finished." He turned to leave.

"Jon, I just meant you should close the door. The last thing I want is for someone I don't know to see me like this." Jon slowly closed the door and turned back to you. Silence came over the two of you again. You simply stared into each other's eyes from across the room. Then you spoke at the same time, saying each other's names. You giggled as you motioned for Jon to continue.

"I've missed you. At the Wall thoughts of you kept me up nights." You felt yourself flush again. You cleared your throat. "It seems you didn't miss me nearly as much as I missed you." At Jon's confused look, you went on, "Daenerys. I saw the way she looked at you. Like she's got you wrapped around her finger." Jon was by your side, kneeling next to the tub, in an instant.

"It was one time. And I never felt for her the depth of feeling I have always had for you." You looked into his dark eyes, which were still on your face despite how close he was. "Do you mean that?" His lips turned up slightly into a small smile. "I do. Y/N, no one could ever compare to you. I have already told Daenerys that nothing will come of our time together. She isn't you."

You beamed at him as tears pricked your eyes. At least there was something good coming from all the bad in this. You had Jon. "I should go. I have a war to plan for." You nodded. "I'd ask you to join me in the bath first, but I'm afraid this Northern air has the water already cold," you said with a shiver." Jon chuckled before he kissed your forehead.

"It wouldn't be proper anyway." You arched a brow. "Jon, you are kneeling next to the bath where I am sitting. Naked, I might add. I don't think propriety is the issue here." Jon's face flushed again and you couldn't help but laugh. When your laughter died down, you caught Jon looking at you again. You reached over and ran your fingers over the beard covering his jaw.

"I love you, Jon." He rested his forehead against yours. "And I love you." With a grin, you reached up, wrapped your arm around his neck, and pulled him into the tub with you. Jon's laughter joined your own just before he brought his lips to yours. Water splashed to the floor as Jon tried to get up, only to slip and splash again. The winter winds blew outside and you could hear the logs crackling in the hearth, but nothing kept you as warm, as comfortable, or as loved as having Jon there with you.

(a/n: I really hope you like it. I tried to make it so the reader could dislike Daenerys without making Dany really hateful, if that makes sense.)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @princessofthefandomrealm @ghostie-writes @smalltownbigheart @littlemisscaptainfandom @etherealpotter @line-viper @frozenhuntress67 @cd1242 @gruffle1 @gameofthronesfics @igotmadskills

Jon Snow Tags: @multi-fandom-imagines8

#game of thrones #jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon x reader

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rosenlily-aka-choconut · 4 years

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Die another day

“Never thought I’d live to see this day,” she said, her eyes shining like priceless gems.

If Jaime had his way, if circumstances weren’t this grim, he would gladly sit here forever, gazing at her, dazzled by her radiance. The dead be damned! Never before had she looked so beautiful, so happy and utterly content and at peace with the world.

Leaving her warm seat by the fire, she approached him. “Ser Jaime--”

He rose to match her height. “You don’t have to thank me, wench.”

Her guard down, thanks to the wine, she smiled, open and heartfelt. “If I die tonight, I’d die a happy woman.”

This ominous thought brought him back to the darkness at their threshold, the heavy possibility of one of them meeting their end mere hours from now leaving him with a gaping hole in his heart; one which could be filled with warmth and so much more if he mustered the courage to tell her.

With no more to say, Brienne started to walk away, bidding him goodnight as she left. “We ought to go get some sleep. I’ll see you again when the horn--”

“I cannot die a happy man,” he blurted, all the pain, the longing and everything else he felt for her, seeping out in that one desperate confession.

A brief pause by the door. Then she slowly retraced her steps to him. “You came here following your heart, Ser Jaime. If you die, it’ll be for the right cause. Why would you not be happy?”

“Love.”

The word was meant for her. It meant her. She was the heart and soul of it. His very essence. He had finally recognized and acknowledged the tears his heart had shed all along, and late though, it might now be, he still had this moment. He didn’t know if he would live to see another dawn. And even if he did, who was to give him the assurance that he’d be fortunate enough to have her by his side?

Confusion skimmed over those pretty blue eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“If I die without knowing whether the woman in my heart loves me or not, such death would bring me nothing but despair, Brienne.”

Her bewilderment gave way to compassion, sympathy and something more… pain and yearning, perhaps, joined by traces of misunderstanding, still, a bothersome shadow diminishing the brightness of those sapphires. “I’m sorry you had to go through such a heartbreak, Ser Jaime. You love her beyond anything else, and she--”

“Does she?”

Taken aback by his question, she lost focus of her words for a moment before recovering enough to manage an uncertain, “I don’t know--”

“Oh, you do know, my lady. Who else would, if not you?” Knowing it was now or never, he took her hand, aching to show her it wasn’t Cersei he meant. “Does she love me too?”

She smiled, careful and guarded, the radiance returning to her face. The sun had risen in the dead of the night, driving away the darkness in his life, showing him that life beyond this night was something he could look forward to.

“Tell me, Brienne,” he asked her directly this time. “Do not keep me in the dark. Let me die a happy man.”

Her lips on his, eyes, sparkling and full of love, were more than he could bargain for, far more intense and deeper than words could ever express. He was soaring up the skies, beyond the clouds, the sensation filling him with profound feelings of elation he’d never experienced before.

“I’d rather you die another day, Ser Jaime,” she whispered, shyly draping her arms around his neck. “Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Perhaps when you’re old and wizened--”

“With you beside me, my lady,” he supplied, finishing the pretty picture she had started to paint. “Every single minute from this moment on.”

Jaime leaned in to kiss her like he’d been dreaming for days. To drown in those deep blue eyes night after night was his desperate wish; to be buried in the comforting soft warmth of her skin on his; to melt away slowly in the smouldering fire of those lips.

Only to wake up the next morning, a man, reborn.

Only to die again the night after that in exactly the same sweet way.

#jaime x brienne #Jaime Lannister #brienne of tarth #fanfic #Season 8 missing scene #knight of the seven kingdoms #Post-Knighting #The Oathkeeper and his Evenstar #Choconut

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authorbarbie · 5 years

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When The Dust Settles

Summary: After the Battle of Winterfell, everyone is attempting to reunite with their loved ones. The only problem is not knowing if they were dead or alive.

You weren’t quite sure what had happened.

One minute you were in the crypts, holding tight to your dagger as you helped your little sister Sansa and Tyrion Lannister defend Winterfell. Collectively, you’d taken out several wights - your body shuddered when you remembered that they were your ancestors - and were shielding your people from harm.

The next, as Sansa prepared to deliver another blow, all the bodies suddenly fell. You knew what that meant, of course. The Night King was dead.

But by whose hand?

So many of your loved ones were out there. Jon, Arya, Bran, Brienne, Theon.

Jaime.

How many of them had fallen before the fight was over? Whose faces would you never see again?

“I think we may have won,” said Tyrion shakily, breaking the silence that had suddenly fallen across the group.

His words shattered the fear that had taken over since the horns had blown and the fight began. Tears fell quickly from your eyes as you pulled Sansa into a hug before leading everyone out of the debris and into the courtyard.

The smell of burning smoke still filled the air as ashes continued to fall from the sky like rain. Bodies were piled high everywhere you looked, a grim reminder of those the living had lost. Your eyes scanned each face, desperately hoping that your family wasn’t amongst the dead.

In the distance, you noticed one of the dragons curled around a small figure and identified it as Daenerys. She clutched onto someone who remained motionless. Another casualty of war.

Just as you began to fear that it might have been your brother, his familiar black curls came into view.

“Jon!”

Rushing forward, both you and Sansa were swept up in Jon’s arms, allowing yourselves a brief moment of relief before the hunt for the others began.

“The crypts?” Jon asked, placing you back on the ground.

“We hid from the army of the dead in a place where the dead are buried,” Sansa said sardonically. Ah, the benefits of hindsight.

Jon sighed. “It was foolish.”

“It was still the safest place,” you argued as you took in the horrific scenes around you. “Our survival rate was higher than theirs.”

The three of you silently broke off from the group and began to make your way across the grounds to the Godswood, pausing every so often when a friendly face was noticed amongst the dead. Jon mourned his friend Edd and you had almost broken at the sight of little Lyanna Mormont’s bloodied body lying next to a giant’s. At least she had gone down fighting like you knew she would.

With every step you took, the fear began to creep back inside.

“Is Bran…” you trailed off, not wanting to finish your own sentence.

“I don’t know,” Jon spoke quietly. “I couldn’t get to him.”

“Maybe you didn’t have to.”

At Sansa’s words, your head lifted and that’s when you saw them.

The remainders of the North’s army were returning home, battered, bloody and bruised, but still alive. You caught sight of Arya, a large gash on the side of her head, tiredly pushing Bran forward and it felt like a weight had been lifted.

“You’re both okay?” Sansa asked in disbelief when they approached.

“It’s over,” Bran said simply.

“How?” Jon asked.

There was a small pause before Arya spoke.

“I stuck him with the pointy end.”

Jon grinned. Your mouth dropped open.

“And Theon?” asked Sansa hesitantly.

“The Night King killed him,” Bran explained.

Any joy you had felt at seeing your family again had been snuffed out immediately and a somber silence hushed any words on your lips. You heard a sniff from Sansa before she turned and walked away.

Like a bucket of ice water being poured over you, you remembered with horror that you had yet to find Jaime.

Was your fate to be the same as Sansa’s? Clinging to hope as you scoured the battlefield only to find that the one you loved was already lost?

“Go,” Bran said with his uncanny ability to know just what you were thinking. “Find him.”

You glanced at your siblings and were met with a nod from Jon and a tiny smile from Arya. With their approval, you quickly dashed off through the crowds, fearful of what you might find.

Would there even be anything left of him? Would you stumble upon a golden hand in the rubble? Or would you find him torn apart by the undead, the places on his body you had once lovingly kissed now ripped to shreds? You weren’t sure which would be worse.

As you walked around in a daze, you caught sight of a few others.

Podrick was covered in blood and dirt but managed a smile in your direction that you returned. He’d come a long way from where he’d first began and you had to admit you were proud of the man.

Brienne was close behind, looking just as worse for wear as Pod. She held her sword loosely, heading towards what was left of the castle and placing her hand on your shoulder briefly as she passed. You opened your mouth to ask where Jaime was but the words seemed to die on your lips.

Jaime and Brienne had been part of the left flank together. You knew they were close and wouldn’t stray far from one another in battle… so why wasn’t he here?

Stop it, you told yourself. It’s not like they were attached at the hip, right? It’s entirely possible that they had gotten split up in the fray.

But what if…?

Gods, you were going to go out of your mind.

Staring out at the destruction around you, you thought of the last time you had seen Jaime, just a few hours ago.

The night had been quiet — almost peaceful.

You were surrounded by people you trusted, warming by the fire and drinking to calm your nerves. Stories were shared (admittedly, some were weirder than others) and jokes were told. Tears were shed when Jaime knighted Brienne. As far as last nights on Earth go, this one wasn’t so bad.

The evening began to wind down after Podrick showed off his surprisingly beautiful voice and lulled everyone into a comfortable silence, people choosing to take a few moments to themselves while they could. Jaime took your hand and the two of you made your way to your bedroom in silence.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Jaime commented as you shut the door behind you. “It’s very unlike you.”

“Hilarious,” you replied, completely deadpan.

“Stop,” Jaime caught your wrist as you attempted to walk by. “Talk to me.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

It was said so quietly, with such fragility, that Jaime almost didn’t hear you. Your gaze slowly lifted and your eyes met. The look on his face gave you your answer.

“Of course I’m scared,” Jaime said just as quietly, almost as if he was afraid that if he spoke any louder, the moment would be shattered. “The thought of something happening to Tyrion? To you?”

“You’re not worried for yourself?” you frowned.

“I’m not the priority here,” he said. “I would die protecting you.”

“Jaime…”

“There is nothing in this world that could ever make me want to give up on you,” Jaime’s hand shifted from your wrist and he brushed his fingers over your cheek. “Your mother couldn’t, Cersei couldn’t, and the dead definitely can’t.”

You hadn’t realised you’d been crying until you felt Jaime begin to wipe away the drops. He willed away his own tears as his eyes began to water and found himself desperately wishing, not for the first time, that he still had both of his hands so that he could touch you properly; to comfort you the way he wanted to.

“If you die, I’ll kill you,” you said through the tears.

Jaime pressed his forehead against yours — a comforting touch during an otherwise frightening time. Your words seemed to have amused him somewhat and he offered you a watery smile.

“I suppose I’d better fight to get back to you then.”

No more had to be spoken after that. Your lips came together in a gentle kiss that said so much more than any words possibly could have. Time seemed to slow down as you held on tightly to one another and all too soon, the sound of three horn blasts could be heard rumbling through the walls.

There was no time for hesitation, only action. Jaime reluctantly pulled away and you instantly missed his warmth, wanting to reach out and keep him with you through the war to come.

“I’ll see you afterward,” he told you, his hand already gripping his sword in preparation.

“You will.”

There was a pause. Both of you seemed to be taking each other in; memorising every little detail, every curve, every blemish until it was stored in your minds forever.

You would see each other again, you told yourself.

But as you watched Jaime leave, you couldn’t help but fear the worst.

The sound of a bark broke you from your reverie and you snapped to attention just in time to see Ghost and your own direwolf, Briar, running towards you. Ghost paused for a pat on the head before he continued to run — presumably to go find Jon — while Briar stopped at your feet and let out a whine. She had always been good at reading your emotions, but the blood that stained her dark grey coat only increased your nerves.

“Perhaps we should head back to the castle and wait. He might meet us there,” you tried to convince yourself. “Does that sound good?”

Briar nipped gently at your fingers in agreement and stayed close by your side as you began to return home. You placed a hand on top of her soft head, using her strength to keep yourself upright. She didn’t seem to mind. She never did.

You didn’t want to give up but with every step you took, there had still been no sign of Jaime.

Both you and your direwolf entered the grounds again, walking by the kennels when you sensed you wouldn’t make it much further. Your knees felt like they were about to buckle but you forced yourself onwards. Briar barked in response.

“It’s okay, girl,” you told her. “I’m fine.”

Briar barked again.

“I said it’s alright.”

Another bark.

“Briar, what are you—”

Your words were cut off when you looked down at your wolf only to find she was no longer there. Turning abruptly, you caught sight of her running towards a person you knew all too well. A person with the same eyes and smile as the man you loved. Briar yipped with happiness, her tail wagging back and forth.

The man seemed to sense your gaze for he gave Briar one last scratch behind the ear before standing, his eyes meeting yours. Despite the dirt and blood that clung to his skin, he still managed to find happiness at the sight of you.

“Looking for someone?”

#jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister imagine #game of thrones imagine #i've never written for got before don't @ me #mine

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canimal · 5 years

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I wanted to write a time travel fanfic and about Evan Rosier/Hermione Granger as a main pairing but... I'm stuck. I didn't choose the most redeemable character (Rosier was killed by Moody after a magical fight) and it's complicated bc how Hermione can fall in love with someone like Evan no matter how charming and smart he is ? How did you deal with that (Hermione, Death Eater and their ideology) ? All I can see is something like Jaime/Brienne (GoT) and a very slow burn. But it still feel wrong.

(Please bear with me as this is going to be a super long response. I’ll put it underneath the cut so those who want to read it can read it and those who want to scroll past it can do so quickly.)

To be perfectly honest, if a story feels “wrong”, you shouldn’t be writing it. Trying to force something that you don’t feel comfortable writing and don't fully believe in will not only make for a story that feels forced and unnatural to the reader, but it will also become a story that you will not enjoy writing. (Never forget that this is our hobby, not our job.). Eventually, you would likely hit a wall where the story was unable to progress further and you’d be stuck. Lots of writers try to write a story with certain elements or pairings that are “trendy” and end up stuck because they forced a story. Writing should flow fairly smoothly. I’m not saying that writers should never stumble or feel blocked, but I am saying that if you’re not allowing a story to remain organic and grow naturally, you will find you quality and likely your own enthusiasm and enjoyment in writing the story suffer.

Why do you want to write a story with Evan Rosier? Is it because you find his character fascinating or you want to uncover more about him? Or is it because he’s not a character that’s written about a lot and you’re hoping to stand out in a growing sea of Death Eater stories?

I promise I’m not trying to be rude or condescending, even if it seems like it. This is an honest question. If your answer is on the first couple, awesome. Go for it.

But, if you’re hoping writing about him will get you instant recognition and a large number of followers on your story immediately, I’m sorry to tell you that that probably won’t happen. Most readers don’t want to take a chance on unknown characters. They just don’t. I’ve mentioned this many times, but when I first started writing Thorfinn Rowle as more than just a one-dimensional bad guy in the background in first, The Dark Mage’s Captive and then Parolee and His Princess, I frequently got PMs and reviews asking me who the fuck Thorfinn Rowle even was and that I might actually get more people to read my stories if I didn’t write such weird pairings. 🙄 (Let’s not forget the troll who commented “This should’ve been a Dramione” on literally every single chapter at least twice. Sigh.) So it’s both amusing and incredibly frustrating to have readers in the fandom announce that Thormione is their OTP when most of them wouldn’t have given my stories the time of day when I was writing them and they were the ONLY Thorfinn stories in existence on FFN for certain and probably everywhere else. Because so few people were interested in reading a story with Thorfinn as the main love interest when I was actually writing Parolee and His Princess, if I was only writing the story in an attempt to stand out and not because that was the story I wanted to write, then I likely would’ve gotten frustrated and quit before I ever finished.

So, if you’re serious about writing an Evan Rosier story because it’s what you want to write, I wish you the best of luck. It’s always challenging to write a character with little to no background info in canon. Challenging can also be a great deal of fun. If we never challenge ourselves as writers, we won’t ever get any better. Writers must be willing to learn and try new things if they want to get better. Practice is crucial. Too many writers (professional and otherwise) get to a place where they don’t believe they need to improve and their writing gets stagnant. It’s sad.

Now to your question about how or why Hermione might fall in love with someone with such a different and dangerous ideology... there are many different ways this can be tackled. I must stress thought that you make sure the decision you make makes sense within your story. Don’t try to force something. Let it grow naturally.

First of all, I don’t believe anyone is unredeemable. (Or irredeemable. Same meaning, right?) Perhaps it’s because of my own personal faith and religious beliefs, but I don’t believe anyone is wholly evil or wholly good. Yes, even in this hyper-partisan world we now live in, I don’t believe that anyone (even those who might disagree with me) are pure evil. This has actually gotten me a lot of grief from angry trolls and super sensitive former readers alike. I’ve been accused of being an “apologist” for all manner of depravity including, but not limited to, rape, violence, murder, racism, all the bad things ever, etc. simply because I believe that no is unredeemable... irredeemable. Ugh, whatever. You know what I mean.

Everyone has good qualities in them, even those who appear to be nothing but evil. Far fewer good qualities than most certainly, but still there. I’m also a firm believer that people, even really bad people, can have an existential change of heart and want to be a better person. Many just have to be given the opportunity to change. Of course, I don’t believe that they shouldn’t be punished for their crimes or they should be excused just because there’s something good about them. I’ll never understand why I’ve been accused of being an apologist. 🙄 Some people are truly exhausting.

For every story about a Death Eater falling for Hermione, there’s a different explanation. If you’ve ready any, you’re probably already familiar. Because I try very hard to make every story I write unique from the others I’ve already written, I’ve mixed it up. Antonin only joined for knowledge and power without realizing until too late what was really happening. Rodolphus was pressured by his wife in one and his grief and depression made him fall further in than he meant to. Sometimes the Death Eater was pressured by family to follow in their footsteps; others by their peers. There are countless reasons why people join these kinds of groups. Disillusionment, looking for a place to belong... you really could make it anything. I’ve known people who were drawn in and brainwashed by cults because they were desperate for purpose, for belonging, for a feeling like their life actually mattered. It can be super easy to get sucked into a cult and takes years to get out... if you can.

JKR wrote the Death Eaters as being simply bad for bad’s sake. They’re almost all one-dimensional. No person is actually one-dimensional. They have hopes and fears and dreams just like everyone else. Maybe they thought they believed in the sort of pro-Pureblood world that Voldemort imagined, but once they got in they were in over their head. Reality rarely meets our expectations. People grow and change. Even my own beliefs have changed as I’ve grown older. What I used to think was important no longer is and there are issues I have done a complete 180 on as I’ve grown up and begun to live in what I call “grownup reality”. (Life is much different for me than it was even when I was just in my twenties and how I see the world has changed drastically in some instances.). So if experience and time has been able to shape and change my beliefs and even my values to a minute degree, why could the same not be said for a Death Eater who discovered all was not as it seemed when they were recruited?

It’s also important to remember that no one thinks, acts, or believes like everyone in their set group one hundred percent of the time. Each individual has their own thoughts and beliefs. Maybe they joined because they hated Muggles, but then they realized they were wrong to do so. Maybe their family pressured them to join but they didn’t agree. Maybe they were afraid to die so they joined. I know a lovely man whose father died in World War II fighting for the Nazis - not because he was an admirer of Hitler and believed in everything dreadful and evil the Nazi party believed in. No, his father was conscripted into the German Army and fought because he would’ve been arrested in the best case scenario and executed in the worst. His young wife and their two small children could’ve also been in danger had he refused. It’s a terribly sad story. And hardly the only one. That’s just one example. History has countless other incidents all over the world when scared people fought and fell in line with a terrible leader because they had no other choice. Or at least it seemed like they had no other choice. Not everyone is strong and brave enough to stand up to injustice and evil when their lives are on the lines. Humans by our very nature can be quite cowardly at times.

It’s possible that a person who has done evil deeds or believed just absolutely atrocious things could want to change and be a better person. Though it wouldn’t be easy, someone like Hermione could choose to forgive them for their past. Especially if they’re truly remorseful.

Of course, it’s also unfortunately true that there are sometimes relationships that are just absolutely toxic. Love can make idiots of us all. How many women (and men to an extent though not nearly as often) see the potential in a man and want to change them into something good and perfect? It happens so often it’s a cliche. Woman falls in love with bad boy. Wants to change him. Stays with him with hopes and dreams that he’ll stop being so awful. Is disappointed over and over again. Have you ever known someone who fell in love with a truly terrible person and even though their relationship wasn’t healthy whatsoever never seemed to quit them? Kept going back for more even when everyone told them it was a terrible idea? I’m pretty sure you have. You might’ve even been in one of those relationships yourself. I know I was. No, he might not have been a murderous minion of a madman, but he certainly had his terrible qualities that I thought I could help him get past. Tale as old as time.

I could go on and on and on about reasons why Hermione might fall in love with a completely unsuitable man who might even wish her dead, but there’s no reason. It could be for a thousand reasons. And don’t forget, Hermione isn’t exactly some innocent paragon of virtue herself. She’s pretty dark even in canon. Trapping a lady in a jar? Cursing a girl’s face possibly permanently? Leading another witch into a forest knowing there are centaurs in there who are dangerous? And those are just the things that unobservant Harry noticed! Who knows what she was doing off-stage? She has her own darkness and her own demons to fight. She’s not perfect nor is she some pure angelic creature who only uses light magic for good. Nah, she’s pretty twisted at times. (On a side note - Please don’t try to write her as being all-powerful, perfect, and never do anything the least bit bad. That’s not her character at all. It bothers me to see her written as some sort of pearl-clutching virgin who has never done anything bad in her entire life. That’s NOT the Hermione I read in the books.)

You just have to find the right motivation in your own story. If you’re not forcing the story and allowing it to develop naturally, you’ll figure it out. If you’re forcing it, I’m afraid you’re going to stay stuck.

I hope this can be so some help! Sorry I’m rambled on and on and on.

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ladyninjaa · 7 years

Text

Abandoned

Imagine: being the only surviving child of Cersei and Jaime Lannister. (takes part during the last episode of season 7)

You had hoped that this meeting would have gone in a different direction but it didn’t. What you witnessed…that thing attempting to grab at your own mother was horrifying and to think that there were more of them was terrifying. You would have liked to not believe Jon Snow and his claims of an undead army heading this way but the threat had been proven real.

And you have never been more afraid then now.

But your mother…your mother’s paranoia had gotten the best of her. When Jon had foolishly admitted that he had already bent the knee to Daenerys…your mother was not happy and ended the meeting quickly much to the shock to you and your father.

“Mother, we cannot ignore this!” You defiantly stood up to her because you were the only one who could without getting serious and lethal consequences’. To see the devastation on Jon’s face as your mother walked by without a care was almost gut-wrenching.

You knew Jon and you liked his person. You only had a few weeks in Winterfell when your legal father, Robert, traveled there to name Ned his Hand and you had grown close to the Stark children—practically Jon and Robb (your father even proposed a marriage between you and Robb but your mother refused and gave your father Joffrey instead) but now with Robb gone—his death would always haunt you because you did everything you could to stop your murderous brother from butchering him in such a cowardly way.

You weren’t a demented lion like your father or your younger brother. You were a soft cub like your sweet little brother sister. You knew when to be fierce and when to show compassion—it was what separated you from the rest of your family.

Your mother and her guard moved forward and your father was quick to follow.

Brienne, the woman who managed to deliver your father back home, was quick to interject and to try to talk to Jaime into talking sense into Cersei.

Your mother paused and looked back at you angrily. Her eyes were fierce like any mother lioness but you were not fazed. You remained where you were and held up your head high and angrily said, “If they could not defeat those monsters what makes you think we can? They have dragons and if they couldn’t win with those winged beasts,” You gestured towards the two dragons flying in the distance, “What makes you think we can?” You didn’t care that you were showing the wedge between mother and daughter and showing potential weakness in front of the enemies—could you consider your own Uncle your enemy?

“We will always find a way to prevail.” Your mother said in a strangely calm voice—not looking bothered by your burst of anger and defiance.

You stared at her with barely concealed disappointment as she left you with the others. She knew you wanted to stay and speak to Jon. She could care less about you socializing with the enemy because now there was another enemy more capable of ending the Lannister house.

Your father and Brienne exchange words—Brienne desperate to sway your father but your father brushes her off and continues to follow your mother. You stare after the black cloaked figure of your mother and feel the deep emotion in the air. They are frazzled and even scared.

You could feel the Dragon Queen’s stare on you.

Jon turns to you and you walk up to him. Without a care, you give your friend a hug—something you have been longing to do for so long. Jon isn’t surprised by your affectionate display—you were still the wild, wide eyed Lannister Princess that ran through the forest with the Stark direwolves because you never felt so free. He embraces you and feels a familiar comfort he felt when he first saw Sansa at Castle Black.

“I am so sorry,” You breathed trying not to tremble well aware of the stares on your back. He smells exactly like the North…how was that possible? “I cannot express it enough.” You say thickly as you pull away from him—he no longer looks like the young lad he once was so long ago. His face has hardened and his eyes were darker. There was this…strange feeling about him. Like, he wasn’t completely himself.

Jon gives you a small smile, “An apology from you is very well accepted. I know you did your best to try to stop it, Y/N.” He reassures you that the bond between you two was never damaged, “In fact I was more worried about you. With your loud, blunt mouth I was surprised your mother or Joffrey didn’t lock you up for good.” He dares to tease.

You breathlessly smile and shake your head as the man who stood next to Jon spoke, “I wish you hadn’t done that.” This man looked very familiar, who was he?

Jon had this sour look on his face as if remembering the grave mistake he had done.

Daenerys got up and walked towards the both of you—she shot you a unsure glance but spoke to Jon fiercely, “I am grateful for your loyalty, but my dragon…” She looks at you now and you have a feeling that you weren’t meant to hear her words.

“She can be trusted.” Tyrion speaks up quietly.

“Can she?” The girl doesn’t look that much older then you and she’s glaring at you now.

You stare back unfazed, “Trust me, I want nothing more then to end this fucking war. I’ve had my fill on death, alright? I won’t tell my mother anything you say because honestly, it wouldn’t change anything.” You say harshly not caring who you were speaking too.

She looks clearly taken back by the way you speak.

Tyrion sighs and he is now beside you, “You still have that terrible mouth on you.” But there is a gentle, loving smile on his face to show you that he is teasing.

You grin at him—happy to see him alive and well. “Well, it’s part of my charm.”

Daenerys isn’t pleased by the obvious bond between you, Tyrion, and Jon but she continues, “If this is all for nothing then he died for nothing.” There is a glimmer of grief in her violet eyes and sorrow in her voice.

You stare between her and Jon with narrowed eyes before concluding, “That’s why you only have two dragons with you. The other died by the hands of those monsters?” You are sick to your stomach and as the Queen glares at you…you feel nothing but sadness for her, “Then we’re definitely fucked.” You muttered, “I offer you my condolences, your grace.” You added with a respective tone.

The silver-haired woman looks unsure how to proceed—the last thing she expected was a Lannister that wasn’t Tyrion to be kind to her. Perhaps this lion was different.

“I’m pleased you bent the knee to our queen,” Tyrion speaks in his usually drawled out voice, “I would have not advised it, had asked.” He gives him a stare of annoyance, “But have you ever considered learning how to lie every now and then?”

“Just a bit?”

Jon stares at him with obvious offense, “I am not going to sweat an oath I can’t uphold,” He rightfully states and you only feel your admiration for him grow, “Talk about my father, if you want, tell me that’s the attitude that got him killed. But when enough people make false promises, words stop meaning anything.”

“In the end, there are only better and better lies.” You spoke quietly making Jon nod towards you in agreement.

Tyrion looks defeated, “And lies won’t help us win this fight.” Jon ends looking unbelievably stressed out. You feel for him because now he was the one left to clean up this shit mess that our parents left us.

“That is indeed a problem,” Tyrion muttered, “The more immediate problem is that we’re fucked.”

You nod in agreement and said, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Why are you here again?” Daenerys glares at you as if your presence was becoming bothersome to her.

“You shouldn’t be fucking drinking.” Tyrion scolds with a scowl.

“I am here because I wanted to speak to Jon and my uncle, is that a crime, your grace? Does my Lannister appearance bother you? Are you going to burn me alive?” You sassed glaring back at her, “Geez, and you wanted to make an alliance with my mother with that bloody attitude?” You scoffed as Daenerys scowled at you fiercely.

“I always did like her.” the Hound commented giving you a proud look, “Always gave that little shit hell.”

“Does everyone here apparently favor her then?” Daenerys bit out angrily, “We have bigger things to worry about!” You roll your eyes but agree, this was no time for such games.

“Is there any way to change that stare of affairs?” The man with a rugged accent questioned.

Tyrion looks out towards where your mother and father had left, “Only one.”

“Hell, no.” You step up and glare at him, “You’re fucking crazy. She’d slaughter you.”

“That’s why you’re coming with me.” Tyrion speaks with a sigh, “I never thought I’d use my own niece as a shield, how low can I go?”

“You don’t have to walk us there, you fat shit.” You hiss turning to look over your shoulder to glare at whatever the fuck the Mountain had turned out to be—or whatever Qyburn had done to him.

He only kept walking without making a second sound.

“Do I even want to ask about him?” Tyrion looks scared of him and he should be. He’s in a dangerous situation right now.

“No.” You mumbled, “I liked him better when he was…alive.”

There was only tensed silence as the three of you walked towards your mother’s office. Your father appears looking very displeased to see Tyrion. They exchange a few words about being idiots and goodbyes. You roll your eyes and reply impatiently, “Can we stop acting so dramatically? Tyrion is not going to die. That’s why I am here.”

Your father looks at you, “Your mother won’t like that.”

You shrug, “Have I ever given a shit?”

Your father frowns, “I honestly don’t know where you got that blunt mouth from.”

“I am my own person. I shouldn’t be compared to you or my mother.” You remarked a bit sourly. You had always known who your real father was ever since you were ten. It was always blatantly obvious because you looked nothing like Robert. Your younger siblings never caught on though, you guessed it was because they were stupid.

Jaime shook his head with a small smile before stepping to the side.

Tyrion stared ahead unsure what fate awaited him. He knew if it came down to it, he would not risk your life for the sake of his. You entered her room with bothering to knock and saw her sitting at her desk. She eyes you but then her eyes land on Tyrion.

You take your seat and remain quiet knowing it would be wise not speak.

“I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose. She’s your kind of woman—a foreign whore who doesn’t know her place.” You groan at the immediate insults hurled at Tyrion. Your mother pointedly ignores you.

There are words being exchanged. Your mother’s eyes growing with hate and anger towards your uncle for killing Tywin—your grandfather. Her eyes grew watery as she spoke about Myrcella and Tommen. Your heart clenched at the mention of them but you knew it wasn’t really Tyrion’s fault.

Tyrion suddenly said, “I will always be a threat…so put an end to me.” His words sound tired and desperate and you stare at him shocked.

You don’t miss the murderous look on your mother’s face as he suggest that she end his life—just like she always wanted to do. He continues to fuel her hate and anger reminding her of how she was motherless, fatherless, and two of her children were dead. You could see the look on your mother’s face—she wanted to kill him.

For once, you are speechless. Your mouth is dry because you couldn’t have predicted that your uncle would go for this. Tyrion stands in front of the Mountain and demands your mother to kill him.

But then…your mother is looking at you and seeing the horror on your pretty face…and she can’t bring herself to say the words. You were…her last surviving child…although there was one in her belly…you were her first babe. Seeing such a look on your face…she couldn’t do that to you…as much as it killed her to admit you loved Tyrion fiercely and Cersei feared the repercussions if she did kill Tyrion right now.

The last thing she wanted was you, her precious daughter, to hate her.

Cersei growls and looks away.

You let out a sigh of relief while Tyrion remains surprised. He looks at you and knows very well that you were the only reason why Cersei didn’t butcher him.

Tyrion had convinced your mother to reconsider. Eventually, your mother gave her word that their war would be pushed aside to fight in the real war. You were thrilled to hear her words because it meant that the future for you and your family wasn’t so bleak. You were happy because the child in your mother’s belly would have a chance at living.

But then everything came crashing down that same night.

You were asleep in your chambers when a voice and someone shaking you woke you up. You groggily opened your eyes and saw your father hovering above you. You were confused and dazed—taking into account that he wasn’t wearing his usual armor.

“Papa?” You mumbled sitting up.

Your father sat down on the edge of the bed with this sad look on his face, “I need to tell you something before I ask you to make a difficult choice.” He says caressing the side of your sleepy face. He was leaving but he had to take you with him…he knew what would happen if he were to leave and you were to stay. He couldn’t leave knowing how Cersei would act towards you –obsessive, paranoid, and by her side at all times.

But he knew you just as well as he knew Cersei…you wouldn’t allow it your mother to coddle you and obey her commands especially after he leaves. You would defy her, rebel, and make your statements known which something that Cersei wouldn’t tolerate now.

He couldn’t leave without you because it would mean your death.

Something serious was happening. You were fully awake now and peering at your father through the darkness—the only light coming from the moon outside your window. “What’s wrong?” You questioned with a frown.

Your father swallows thickly and tells you, “Earlier this morning, your mother advised me that we wouldn’t be riding north anymore. That she intends to betray Jon and the Dragon Queen and let them deal with the white walkers.”

You frown, “She’s insane. If they can’t stop them, we can’t either.”

He nods, “It is what I told her and she told me that Euron didn’t flee like we had thought…he went to ferry the Golden Company across the sea and back to Kings Landing.”

Why would your mother conspire with that mad-man Euron and not your father? Was her paranoia getting that bad that she didn’t trust your father now? “Was it because you met with Tyrion without her consent?” You asked with disgust.

He gives a curt nod, “That’s not the worst of it.”

You see the dreadful look on his face, “When I told your mother that I intended to ride North to keep the promise I made…” He blows out a heavy sigh and you see his shoulders drop, “I tried to walk away from her…but that monster got in the way.”

Your heart almost stopped beating. Anger rose in your body, “She did not.” You stood up with the Lannister fire in your eyes, “Tell me she did not do it.” You said through gritted teeth.

Your father looks down at the stone floor, “I was in disbelief and when I told her to order that thing to kill me…she only nodded after a few seconds.” He looks shaken up by the ordeal and you could understand. Your mother and father loved each other even when it was wrong in every sense and through it all they always stuck with each other.

For your mother to have gone this far by having that thing cut your father down…

“And then what happened?”

“He took out his sword; ready to cut me down but for some reason…nothing happened. I walked away in complete disbelief…I can’t believe your mother would…” He shakes his head with disgust and anger, “After everything…”

You swallow the lump in your throat, “So, you’re leaving?”

He nods, “I made a promise. Besides, next time I won’t be so lucky. Cersei has made her intentions clear to me.” He says looking very anguished.

You stare at your father with uncertainty and ask thickly, “And what about me?”

“I cannot force you to come with me—“

You were not stupid and knew what would happen clearly and quickly once your father abandoned your mother, “I am coming with you.”

It wasn’t a hard decision for you to make. You always knew that her paranoia would get the better of her—her twisted nature would always win. This woman was not your mother anymore. No mother would give an order to kill the father of her children. She didn’t give the order to kill Tyrion but did so with your father? It was unacceptable. Not that you wanted Tyrion dead.

Your parents had faults, yes, you would admit. You were a direct result from one of those faults. Your heart was heavy with emotions and you couldn’t believe this was happening. How did things turn so bad? You looked at your father with grief, “Do you think this all happened because you pushed Bran off the ledge?”

Your father isn’t surprised that you know—you were always a very clever lion, “Perhaps,” He murmurs with guilt and he closes his eyes as if disgusted with himself, “But now is my chance to try to make things right…as much as I can.”

He opens his eyes and looks at you with hope, “I have to do what I can to make sure that there is a future for you…a better one then the one you have now.”

This was just something I’ve been dying to write. It’s long and boring, I know, but I really like it c: There are no other parts for right now. Maybe I’ll add a part two when we see Jaime in the next season!

UPDATE: PART TWO HERE

#game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #got imagine #Jaime Lannister #Cersei Lannister #jon snow #Tyrion Lannister

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lodessa · 7 years

Text

WIP Preview Meme

tagged by @angrywarrior69 (let’s see how many I can get in before I have to go to work)

Veronica Mars - Season 3 AU

“I wasn’t trying to use you to get back at Logan,” she says quietly, “I wouldn’t.”

“Nobody made me play her game,” he admits, “That was on me.”

“Me either,” Veronica agrees, “There’s a lot of ugly things I let Lilly talk me into.”

“That girl could talk just about anybody into anything,” he finds himself smiling at the memory of how it felt when she turned her attention onto you, “That’s what the newspapers and the specials could never get.”

“Sometimes I think that’s why it’s been so hard for me and Logan to let go of each other, especially with Duncan gone. It’s like the longer she’s gone the more I need someone else who knows.”

“Is that what we’ve been doing these past few years, V? Dancing our way around Lilly’s ghost?”

“She’d love that,” Veronica laughs, “But no. I didn’t even know about the two of you when we started our…”

He doesn’t dare ask what. He doesn’t think he could handle any answer she could possibly give him. Talking with V like this, it’s making him feel exposed, like he wants things. He has to shut it down and shove it away inside himself.

“You know. The way I remember it: it was trading favors.”

Game of Thrones - Sansa POV Jonsa Fic Exploring Her Parallels Cersei

“I don’t want to be like this, forever,” she had told him, “Every time I flinch it’s a reminder, a way for him still to have power over me.”

“It will fade,” Jon told her, but she shook her head.

“I have to replace those memories, bury the associations under something else.”

He looked taken aback and she wants to believe a little wounded, “Sansa, are you saying you want me to find you a hus-”

“No,” she shuddered at the thought, “I know that there will be a time where we both have to seal new alliances that way, but I can’t… not until I conquer this first.”

“You sound as though you have a plan,” he studied her before smiling softly, “You always have a plan.”

“You’re my plan. You are the only one I trust. Say you will.”

“Me?” Confusion was evident on his face as he asked, “What can I do?”

Game of Thrones - Brienne and Sansa’s talk about Jaime

“Brienne...” Sansa waits until the woman’s eyes return to hers, “Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to order you to do so?”

“It’s nothing, milady,” Brienne insists, through the flush to her face insists otherwise.

“You were going to say something, when I disparaged all Lannisters just now. What was it?”

“It’s only,” Brienne hesitates again and Sansa wonders what can possibly have discomposed her so.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Sansa reaches out and puts her hand on Brienne’s arm, desperately curious now.

“Ser Jaime,” Brienne says, and something about the way her mouth lingers on his name speaks volumes, “He treated me honorably.”

That piques her interest a great deal more. Sansa might have expected some reminder about Tyrion but this is something much more interesting. Evidently she is going to have to pry it slowly from Brienne, though. Whatever passed between them, Sansa reasonably suspects it is a dearly held secret for her.

Voyager - “Stumbling” Chapter 4) - Post Endgame Difficult Fix

Here’s the thing: She still wants him. It’s ironic, after all the years he was diligently waiting and she was able to stuff it down and put it aside some ninety something percent of the time Now, now she is so angry with him, so distrustful, but it’s like that pain has wrecked her self control. She can’t come back from the blunt honestly of her despair. When she’d been so secure in him it has been easy to set aside her desire.

Now. Now she feels raw, not just with the sting of his betrayal but also with her own longing.

Now he meets her for long afternoon walks between her meetings and his office hours and she can’t take comfort in his arm linked with her but she can’t ignore it either. His warmth beside her is a provocation, unsettling her.

Voyager - That Pegging Fic

“Mmmm…” Kathryn almost purrs, “That was even better than I imagined.”

“I admit I was a little skeptical at first,” Chakotay murmurs, snuggling closer to her and kissing the side of her breast, one arm slung over her hip and thigh, “But that was amazing. Feel free to suggest more experimentation any time.”

“What about you?” She turns to face him. “Is there any fantasy you have that we could try?”

Something comes to mind, but he isn’t sure he should mention it. After all, the way she talked about those diplomats…

“There is, isn’t there? Come on, Chakotay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s me.”

“Do you remember... years and years ago… maybe during our first year on Voyager… well you told me about how you turned the tables on diplomatic figures who wanted to fuck you.”

“By fucking them? Yes. Half of them balked and that gave me the upper hand in negotiations, but I was never sure whether I got more benefit out of the ones who openly came back begging for more or the ones who were too embarrassed about enjoying it to face it.”

“Well I… spent a lot of nights fantasizing about being in their place.”

Surely, that’s not something she wants to do with him… not when she had used it as a tool for so long.

“You want me to peg you?” Kathryn doesn’t seem off put, more curious… and curious is a good thing with Kathryn.

tagging: @jaqofspades, @sophia-helix, @joyful-voyager, @ghostcat3000,

#veronica mars #jonsa #jaime x brienne #janeway x chakotay #writing is hard

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entireoranges-creativity · 5 years

Text

Just Breath In And Out

Title: Just Breath In And Out TV Show: Game Of Thrones Ship: Braime (though sorta not...) Note: This is a dark piece involving rape For: 500themes challenge #230 Vengeance Disclaimer: I don’t own, don’t sue

“Are you a virgin?” This wasn’t the first time Jaime had asked her this. The first occurrence felt like a million winters had come and passed; his inquiry of it only to tease, mock, and make her feel uncomfortable. She had informed him briefly of some foolish boys whom had tried purely for laughs, but far as a definitive answer she let her silence speak the loudest. Now the same question once more and their is no teasing or mocking in his voice, rather pure fear and shame over the fact he felt he had to ask at all. “Hurry the fuck up!” Brienne’s eyes stay locked with Jaime’s; the pain reflected in them tore her soul into half. He still doesn’t move as instructed and she has to watch once more as the whip lashes his bare back, he doesn’t allow them the satisfaction of reacting verbally, the water welling up in his eyes tells her the truth. “It’ll be okay,” Making sure to barely move her lips and speak low as possible. She hadn’t been told speaking wasn’t permitted, but she decided best not tempt it. “Brienne. I need to know,” Jaime is almost pleading with her and for a brief second she nearly forgot what he had asked. “Yes.” His head drops and his shoulders as well. She had wanted to lie to him, tell him since the first time he joked of this she had found time and a guy willing to do it. The fact was he already knew it was yes before he whispered the inquiry. “I swear to the fucking Gods if you don’t fuck her right now we will! And we won’t take turns either!” The leader, the one with the whip screams at their direction, taking a step towards them and their naked bodies, his hand on his dick readying to pleasure himself and perhaps far more. Brienne’s heart starts to pound, panic setting in. “Look at me,’ Jaime’s voice pulls her back, he has calmed his own fear and pain in order to help her conquer the one raging through her. ‘I’m not going to let them touch you. Do you understand?” “Yes.” “But I don’t know how I can…” She knows he’s still trying to find away out of this; a good knight never gives up on the fight or the ones they are protecting, “Jaime. Its ok.” Was this how she imagined this moment? Did anyone imagine their first time or any time like this? Being captured, abused physically for hours, the threat of being raped, and then told in a wicked tone for being good; though good at what she didn’t know; she deserved a treat, and that was when Jaime was brought to the room already naked. She knew instantly if they didn’t listen they would make good on the threat to herself, and she suspected to Jaime as well. Would they perhaps break their promise of leaving her untouched if Jaime complied or would they push him off the moment he was finished proclaiming it was their turn while laughing and one holding Jaime back or something far worse? Brienne knew even if that was the case (and right now she felt the odds were an even fifty fifty split) she wanted, no she needed Jaime to go first. And he knew this. He leans his face down until his forehead is resting on her collarbone, it pains her not to be able to see his face. “I have a problem.” His voice is a touch louder and she understood why he maneuvered into this position. “What?” She doesn’t have the luxury to speak as freely. “This situation isn’t um…exactly turning me on. Sorta the opposite.” Brienne may have been a virgin, may not have had female companions to gossip with, but she was familiar of how the antimony worked in both females and males. “Oh. What can I do?” Her voice is feeble and hovering with anxiety. “Less talking do you two understand me?!” “I know its hard but I need you to try to relax. Just breath in and out.’ She tries to follow his instructions. ‘Good, Brienne just like that. Now I’m going to touch you.’ Jaime doesn’t say where, she knew where though. 'Because I want to make sure you’re…” His voice fades off over the shame of what all of is occurring. You need to make sure I’m willing, or at least my body is ready for this, because if not the pain could be unbearable. And also you hope the sensation of touching me there will help give you a hard on. Brienne finishes within her thoughts of what she knew he had been trying to tell her. She jerks involuntarily as his fingers gently make connect with her most sensitive of flesh and before she can react to that he starts to push in. Her breathing starts to quicken. “Oh the bitch likes it!” The one from by the door calls out. All in the room, save for two, start to laugh. Brienne feels herself become tense again. “Relax. Just breath. Ignore them.” Jaime has lifted his head at last and relocks his eyes into hers. His fingers still moving within her and out. Brienne knew he was a gentleman and won’t make this an average romp in the hay on a lazy Sunday morning, but he also wasn’t going to fuck her like a wild desperate animal. She knew he was doing everything in his power to help her make her comfortable as possible and it occurred she owed him the same. She had never touched a man there before, she had seen it a handful of times, his now and all those lifetimes ago, but never had she touched one. Her brain is screaming what are you doing?! You’ll hurt him somehow! Yet the second her hand made contact in the confusion of limbs and body parts, much like how when he touched her, her body instantly knew what to do. He nods slowly, biting his lip to allow her know she made the right decision and he increases the tempo of his hand, at some point even had added another finger. The laughing. The crude remarks. And now the sound of other hands on dicks filled the room. She was going to kill them all. She may allow Jaime to kill them first, find a witch to bring them back to life and then have her vengeance. Her first time was suppose to be a beautiful experience and they were robbing that from her; that was the point though. She couldn’t scream out in pleasure, because while he was careful not to hurt her, this wasn’t what she’d call a pleasureful experience. “I think it’s time,” he removes all of his fingers and moves his sole hand to hers and his dick she successfully fixed its flaccid issue. Jaime adjusts once more until her handiwork is at the entrance of his own handiwork. At the moment what she wants more then anything; besides getting the hell out of here; is his lips on her own. Not even a romantic kiss, just a sweet and gentle connection. 'I promise I’ll make this up to you.“ It was as if she read her thoughts or he himself felt the same way, but this right now there couldn’t be kisses, caresses, and exploration of each other. "Go.” Brienne instructs firmly upon realizing he hadn’t pushed into her. “I’m so sorry. Gods I’m sorry.” He has tears again as he moves into her, more and more until he can’t go anymore, or what she feels like is the wall, he pause before pushing harder then before crumbling that wall. It hurt like hell. She couldn’t even imagine what the pain would had been if he hadn’t helped prepare her. Her face and voice doesn’t reflect any of this. She wonders if he knows how she’s hurting, wonders if his anguish of causing this is equal to what she’s feeling…she knows the answer is yes to both. He is barely moving, almost holding still. It occurs to her that his logic was she’d get used to him and the pain would dissipate; it was making it worse she suspected. “Jaime, can you…” She doesn’t need to say anything and at the same time as the words left her hips jerked up trying to meet or create a pace she needed. He quickens his speed, moving feverishly. She can’t help to wonder what this is like at a normal and delicate speed, what it’s like without an audience, how’d it be to tell him she loved him with every way was possible to love another. She is glad the pain has subsided, not completely done, but far better. “Brienne…I…” He is stumbling over his words. Was he about to… Her answer came almost immediately as he did himself at the sensation of his release of himself triggered her as well she couldn’t stop herself from calling out his name as her body shuttered violently. And the tears at last started to fall down her face. The clapping and cheers made her want to vomit and kill them even more. Ever so gently she feels his hand upon on hip massaging, a way of saying it’s okay, you’re okay… He lays still, for a few moments, of her limited knowledge of sex, Brienne knew this was normal. Still selfishly she needed to see him, ensure him as well that he was okay too. “You liked that huh?” The ringer leader questions, stepping forward and reaching to wipe the sweat from her forehead; Jaime jerks to his feet, his hand instantly on the pieces of shits throat and slams him into the wall. The other two yank him off just as quick and push him onto the floor. “Stop!” Brienne yells out as they raise their feet to kick him, she suspects he already has a few broken ribs, a fact she put out of her mind previously, that weighing on her mind would have been too hard to bear. They don’t listen. She yelps out for him. 'Please leave him alone! I’ll do….do anything.“ "Anything?” The tone send shivers down her spine. “Don’t you fucking dare go near her!” Jaime hisses. She had to protect him. If this would help so be it. She owed him that much. “I mean the Queen said not too but…” One proclaims as he kicks his lips looking Brienne up and down. The Queen. Jaime’s own sister and former lover had arranged this. It had never been a secret. She had even been presented for a good majority of the initial beating. When she hadn’t been in room Brienne suspected Jaime was being visited in a similar fashion. All love having been lost between the two of them. “Hey wench you ever sucked a …” Before he can finish there is a loud crashing outside of the door and the sound of yelling and blades of swords clashing into each other. The door then rips open and she nearly sobs at the sight of Podrick and Tormund among a few Stark men whom she didn’t know by name. Jaime stumbles to his feet and demands he be given a weapon, not giving a damn about being naked as his name day; she on the other hand…. “Will someone give Ser Brienne something to cover up with?!” As always he just knew. Within the fighting, yelling, and chaos a blanket is tossed in her direction. She wants to demand a sword as well, she single handily did want to murder them, she knew physically her body couldn’t handle it. Forcing her into the role of spectator. The fighting doesn’t last long, Cersei army was far weaker and never as trusting and loyal to her as she foolishly thought them to be. “Pants. I need pants.” Jaime seemingly says to himself. “You need to sit down! Someone help him!” Brienne hisses and attempts to get up herself, it fails. “You both need to sit down. What the hell happened?!” Podrick speaks softly, Brienne can tell he’s trying to piece everything together by what had been presented, by the look in his face she knows he connected it correctly. “Survival. We survived is what happened.” Jaime stumbles back to the bed, still fully exposed and grimaces as he sits down next to her. Brienne reaches over and takes a hold of his hand. “Thank you.” Her words her again nearly silent. He nods just the same. “Ser Jaime! Queen Daenery wishes too…” “Not now!” Tormund screams at the soldier whom had raced into the room. 'And will someone give him some fucking pants?! I’m really tired of looking at his dick!“ "Jealous?” Jaime mutters. And with that Brienne begins to laugh. Was it that funny? No, not really. Was it the exhaustion of everything? More then likely. It felt good and in that moment she again felt safe and as everything would be okay.

***The End***

#tv show: game of thrones #character: podrick payne #character: thurmond giantsbane #ship: braime #500themes #230

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rosenlily-aka-choconut · 4 years

Text

Forever

“The cut’s quite deep, but she’ll heal,” Podrick informed him, sombre, yet relieved.

“Thank you, Pod.” After what seemed to be an eternity of restlessness, Jaime’s mind was finally at ease. “Go and enjoy the feast. I’ll stay with her.”

“But Ser, your dinner?” asked the lad, his earnest eyes full of concern.

Jaime didn’t want to leave her side tonight. Hells, he couldn’t bring himself to leave her alone for even a second! “I wonder if you could get us something up here?”

Pod nodded at the suggestion, then took leave of him with an encouraging smile. “I’m sure she’ll cheer up on seeing you.”

I hope so too, he thought, as he entered the chamber, his mind full of unfinished sentences, of thoughts he’d had difficulty expressing, of feelings that were now impossible to suppress. The living had prevailed. But what if they hadn’t? What if either of them had perished without him getting a chance to tell her?

What if--

Shaking off the negativity, he tried to dwell on the brighter side of life. He still had her. Never again, would he let go of her. Not for a single moment, he would leave her side.

“Wench,” he called out softly, approaching her. She lay on the bed, covered waist down by a sheet.

Hearing his voice, she struggled to a sitting position. “Ser Jaime,” she returned the greeting, and a bolt of sadness struck him at the way she held on to the formal address. After all they’d been through and survived, he’d expected her to, at least now, see the man in him and not the knight.

Putting away the disappointment, he sat down by her side, his heart going out to the broken woman on the bed. “Can I--” he murmured, glancing at her covered legs. He wanted to do everything possible to make her feel better.

Anything to ensure her happiness.

She didn't deny him, but didn’t consent either. Just as he was about to mumble a distressed apology and get up, she nodded bashfully, her pretty eyes on her lap, shining brilliantly in the light of the candle. Lifting the bed sheet to her knees, he examined the cut on her left leg. “You took this for me,” he admonished her, gently touching the blood stained bandages when he remembered how she had cut through three or four wights that had surrounded him, grabbing him from the jaws of certain death. “Why?” When she didn’t reply, he let his fingers stray out of the boundary of her dressing, trespassing onto the rest of her pale skin. “Why did you risk your life for me, my lady?”

He could feel her twitch beneath his roving hand. “My lady,” he began, about to withdraw, worried that he’d upset her, but she reached for his good arm, her unexpected touch surprising him, silencing him.

“And you took this for me,” she whispered, her thumb breaching the tear on his sleeve. “Why?” she demanded, feeling the nasty burn above his elbow. She brought her eyes to his, the heat of her gaze warming him from within, taking away all his pain and burdens, taking him to the world of the dreams he had, so far, dared not delve deeper into. “You jumped in the path of the dead to protect me. You nearly lost another hand for me, Ser Jaime.” Her fingers slid down his forearm and came to rest on the bed. “That was suicidal,” she scolded, a tremor in her voice, “just like Harrenhal. So why?”

He didn’t answer her, but did something he ought to have done the day he’d come here.

He took her hand in his.

She didn’t pull away. She didn’t even flinch. They sat like that for a few peaceful minutes, his hand on hers, his eyes lost in hers, his heart reaching out to hers. The feast be damned, he wanted to spend every minute with her.

“Why aren’t you downstairs?” she asked, as if reading his mind.

“I came here to see you.” He got up and went to the other side of the bed. “To make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of,” he said, settling down in the vacant half beside her.

Her lips trembling, she graced him with a rare smile, a radiance, pleasing and delicate, spreading across her face. “I am comfortable and on the road to recovery. You need not have bothered. Podrick made sure I was well attended to.”

Jaime couldn’t help feeling a little envious of the affection she had for the boy. “Would you rather have him for company than me?” he couldn’t help asking, although he fully understood that she looked upon him as the brother she’d lost as a girl.

“That’s not what I meant,” she hastily justified, a pretty blush traveling up her neck.

She looked so soft and warm, so delicate and vulnerable, every bit a woman like any other. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to keep her safe and protect her, making a silent vow to himself to cut down anyone who dared touch even a single hair on her head.

He wanted to tell her that he--

Shifting closer, he draped his arm around her shoulders. And this time too, she didn’t resist. On the contrary, she relaxed, melting into his touch, letting her head seek the support of his chest. Burying his face in her hair, he let the sensation of her soak in, her smell, her proximity, the comforting heat of her body, her essence...

“It’s not a bother, Brienne,” he corrected her assumption, subtly giving her a glimpse of what was in his heart. “With you, it’s never a bother.” Courage and his nerves often seemed to fail him whenever she was in the vicinity, but tonight he couldn’t leave his heart to their mercy. “I came to Winterfell because--”

She looked up, the sudden jerk of her head throwing him off-guard. “I know,” she whispered, her eyes and the gentle smile on her lips vouching for her words.

He could see it on her face, plain as daylight, that she knew it all, his gratitude and appreciation for the way she’d stood up for him at the trial, his sincerity when he’d pledged his service to her, his pain when she’d fallen, injured and blood-covered, his admiration, his aching desperate yearning… his love for her.

“Will you stay with me for a while, Jaime?” she requested, her voice tender and breathless.

Everything around him, in his head, came to a standstill, her words, his name, the only thought. He felt his chest constrict. He couldn’t breathe for a second. Unless he knew he’d heard her right, he couldn’t be at peace. “What did you just call me, Brienne?”

“Jaime,” she repeated for his benefit, “will you stay by my side tonight?”

“Not just for a while,” he said, making his intention loud and clear. Drowning in her eyes, he bent to breathe in her breath. “Not just tonight, but forever.” Then he did something he should’ve done long back at Riverrun.

He kissed her.

#jaime x brienne #ficlet #choco writes #post the long night #my ficlets #season 8 #The Oathkeeper and his Evenstar

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