#goldcnhand

[sapphiremaid-archive]

Isle of Sapphires II Brienne & Jaime

@goldcnhand

The cool breeze and salt in the air elicits a soft sigh from Brienne's lips as she takes her slow stroll along the cliff top. She has made it a daily occurrence since she returned to Tarth a moon ago. It gives her time to think, to gather up the mess of musings trapped in her brain.

It had been near three moons since she saw him. Three moons since he fought the dead alongside her then fled back to his twin in the Capitol. She recieved word that he was dead as she rode for King's Landing along with the Northern forces and her heart had shattered in her chest. Long had she loved him and, naïvely, she had believed mayhaps he loved her too.

But he had ran into the arms of the Stranger without so much as a word to her.

I was a fool to think anyone could love one such as I.

She thinks on him often. Thinks on the numerous times he had saved her, oft times to his own detriment. Thinks on how he pledged himself to fight at her side, how he rose her to knighthood. Each memory causes an ache in the void where her heart had once been.

She is thinking of the time he jumped, one handed, into the bear pit in Harrenhal to save her.

I dreamed of you.

And suddenly, her own dream of him becomes very real.

"Brienne."

She whips around so quickly that her cloak tangles about her legs, but she does not stoop to adjust it.

She is looking upon a ghost. He looks near exactly as he had on the final night they had supped together in Winterfell, except there is a new scar down his cheek and his golden hand is missing.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shakes her head.

"Be gone. Please...leave me alone."

But when her eyes open once more, Ser Jaime Lannister remains, cloak flapping in the gusts of wind.

"Why must you haunt me? Please...just go."

[snowbrn]

    ——      CONTINUED : FROM HERE , @goldcnhand​​.

𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐒  𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋  𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃  𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐓     as  he  sits  up  in  bed,  chest  bare  to  the  cold  of  the  room.  he  saw  no  reason  to  pull  them  up  and  cover  himself.  there  was  no  use  for  modesty  now—  not  after  the  night  before,  jaime  had  seen  plenty  of  his  bare  skin.  instead  jon  watches  the  man  move  out  of  bed  and  grasp  for  a  jug  of  water.  this  had  so  far  gone  as  much  as  jon  had  expected  it.

at  least  not  as  bad  as  he  previously  imagined  it.  there  was  always  time  for  it  to  go  worse,  he  tells  himself.  the  fact  the  other  hasn’t  left  yet  could  be  seen  as  a  small  victory  in  itself.  there  was  no  cursing  and  clear  panic,  though  he  knows  the  silence  that  sits  heavy  upon  them  is  its  own  kind  of  panic.  it’s  stifling,  he  thinks  maybe  he  would  prefer  anything  but  the  silence  of  the  room;  as  much  as  he  hated  to  discuss  any  of  it.  he  should  have  grabbed  his  own  clothes  off  of  the  floor  and  left  before  the  lannister  woke.  it  would  have  been  easier  than  sitting  here,  wondering  what  was  going  on  in  the  blond’s  head.

❝  your  hand  might  be  somewhere  on  the  floor,  wherever  your  pants  got  thrown  to,  ❞  the  rough  rumble  of  his  voice  finally  breaks  the  quiet.  his  eyes  never  leave  jaime’s  form,  sharp  and  calculating  as  jon  chooses  his  next  words,  corner  of  lips  dipping  into  a  frown  before  he  masks  it  with  a  blank  expression.  ❝  whatever  you’re  thinking  or  about  to  say,  i  suggest  you  choose  your  words  carefully.  ❞  jon’s  voice  is  measured,  authoritative,  the  same  tone  he  uses  when  giving  orders  or  when  cutting  through  the  clamoring  voices  of  the  most  stubborn  of  northern  lords  during  court.

❝  i  am  a  man,  ❞  words  finite  and  as  sharp  as  the  blade  of  a  sword,  promising  a  misstep  could  possibly  end  at  the  point  of  one  or  even  with  the  clasping  jaws  of  a  direwolf’s  teeth.  jon  didn’t  leave  room  for  objection,  his  patience  thin.  he’s  dealt  with  too  many  comments  suggesting  otherwise  during  his  days  growing  up  within  these  castle’s  walls  to  leave  room  for  error.  with  all  their  sarcastic  banter,  dancing  around  each  other  and  the  underlining  implications,  he’d  rather  not  have  the  growing  fondness  he  had  for  jaime  be  shattered  with  an  offhanded  string  of  words.  ❝  and  if  you  plan  on  standing  there  staring  off  into  the  distance  it  might  be  best  for  you  to  get  dressed  and  leave.  ❞

[lastxdragon]

CS: Once bitten RP

PRIVATE ROLEPLAY: DO NOT REBLOG IF YOU ARE NOT MY PARTNER.

@goldcnhand​

╣❦╠ ƈօռզʊɛʀɨռɢ ֆȶօʀʍ ❧

Landing on Dragonstone was an emotional time for Daenerys. She’d been away for so long, been through so much, and now, she was finally home again. What she hadn’t expected was an awareness, a strong awareness, of another like herself. Not the one who made her. No, he was gone. She knew the other vampire was far away to the North and had to turn her focus to directing her armies before she could give it more thought. The Dothraki were landed on the mainland where they struck an enormous camp along the cliffs, while the Unsullied garrisoned in Dragonstone castle. It brought back so many memories just being in the castle.

It felt like another lifetime. Born only two years after Rhaegar, the Crown Prince, the siblings had been inseparable and were betrothed at a young age by their father, King Aerys. One of their favorite places in Westeros had been the ruins of Summerhall and the pair made frequent visits to the site. It was there that, one evening, Daenerys heard the disturbance of their horses and was attacked when she went to investigate. Rhaegar found them in the ruins and put a sword through the vampire, but it was too late. There were two puncture marks upon her slender neck and her lips were stained ruby red.

Rhaegar insisted they keep it a secret, having her feed upon him, but there was nothing they could do to stop their father from his growing insanity and before they could garner support to overthrow him, war was upon them. For months, she slated her thirst discreetly, but the eve that brought news of Rhaegar’s death, young Ser Jaime was her Kingsguard and, in her crushing grief, her thirst overtook her reason. Morning brought the order to flee to Dragonstone with her mother, Rhaella. When the Usurpers army was closing on the island, Daenerys fled across the narrow sea with a baby brother and a few loyal knights.

Nearly a month passed before her curiosity could finally be sated. The capital was under siege and the King’s Road strangled by her Dothraki so Daenerys took her dragon North, flying high above the land as she followed a bond that only grew stronger as she neared the castle known as Winterfell. Landing in the forest just beyond the walls, Daenerys focused her thoughts - ‘Come to me’ and it wasn’t long before she felt the other approaching. Turning, she gasped. “You. But... I didn’t… oh, Jaime,” Dany murmured as she stepped closer. That morning. She’d woken with a mark upon her lip. “Do you remember me?”

[scndor]

@goldcnhand​ said:  ‘ you never fucking cared about me. don’t fucking lie about it. not to me. ’

sandor feels a burning in his throat  –  the heat of all the words he wants to say, all at once. all full of anger and spite and hurt. he had made himself 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄. had removed his armor and exposed himself and for what? to be called a liar? to have his words met with scorn? he grabs a fistful of jaime’s shirt. pulls him closer. eyes glaring down, unmoving. brows pulled together and teeth clenched.  “  the fuck is your problem?  ”  he starts, almost growling. takes a pause, fist still holding the other close.   “  wasn’t a fucking lie,  ”  he adds, voice trails off so slightly at the end.  

“  what about you, huh?  ”  he starts again, words gaining momentum.   “  everyone knows jamie lannister doesn’t give a shit about anything other than himself and,  ”  he stops. doesn’t say what he had intended to. angry as he is, sandor doesn’t intend to hurt jaime  –  at least not in any way that wouldn’t be healed when morning came. 

‘growling suggestion’ ask meme  –  accepting

[quccnnorth]

@goldcnhand  said:  “ you should go. ”

jaime’s  words  hit  her  -   harshly,  forcefully.  though,  despite  all  of  this,  sansa  understands.  VAMPIRES.  mystical  tales  told  by  old  nan  to  frighten  her  as  a  girl,  though  now  it  stares  her  in  the  face.   jaime  lannister  was  a  vampire:  she  had  uncovered  this  truth  -   and  out  of  the  kindness  of  her  father’s  heart,  he  remained  in  winterfell,  causing  her  potential  betrothal  to  joffrey  baratheon  to  fall  through.   after  being  put  up  to  the  challenge  of  securing  the  truth  about  jaime  lannister,  she  felt  protective  -  almost  as  if  she  PITIED  him.  and  perhaps  she  did,  though  she’d  never  tell  him  it  was  pity.  no  one  liked  the  prospect  of  being  pitied.  instead,  she’d  call  him  friend.  sneak  visits,  try  to  understand  more  about  this  species  she  knew  nothing  of.   tonight  was  different  -   something  had  shifted  completely.  sansa  had  fallen  and  scraped  her  knee.  there  was  blood,  minimal,  though  blood,  nonetheless.  it  almost  escaped  her  mind  that  this  very  incident  could  put  her  in  danger  -  and  jaime’s  sudden  outburst  is  what  makes  her  realize  this.

❝  no  -  i  won’t.  ❞  perhaps  this  was  foolish,  probably  the  stupidest  thing  she  has  ever  said  or  done.   ❝  i  trust  you,  and  if  you  can  overcome  this,  then  there’s  no  need  for  you  to  lock  yourself  down  here.  ❞  false  courage  made  her  bold,  though  she  truly  shouldn’t  be.  it  was  a  highly  dangerous  situation  that  could  spin  out  of  control  fast  -   but  sansa  stark  was  stubborn. 

@goldcnhand​

[scarsthatshapeus]

@goldcnhand

This was...not what she had expected. Ariadne had never been to Westeros before. Dorne had always been her home and she had loved it dearly, but when your family makes your home unwelcome, then it is time to seek out new places and new experiences. Her mercenary company had ventured to Kings Landing in search of a contract, and apparently, she had been a bit too vocal about where she was from. Or something of the like.

“Ser, if I have done something to offend you, then you have my most sincere apologies,” she said softly, keeping her voice and head level even as the sword pressed into her throat. “If it is because of where I am from, however, then you have even deeper apologies for the wrongs that were done to you.”

She did not know who this was, but the armour suggested someone a little fancier than she was used to. Flattery was all she had here. She couldn’t even reach her sword.

[itswasteland]

@goldcnhand liked for a starter (Robb) 

He had been here now for a fortnight, that vision of golden Lannister hair crossing the keep day and night. Jaime had earned no love from the Northern people, and every day, Robb expected him to leave; his sister had, after all, forsaken them, and so the Lion roamed without an army, without family, without safety. And yet he’d stayed. As reports came in that the dead were upon them, that there may be no more than hours before the first attack came, the King Slayer had stayed. 

Robb heard him before he saw him. No longer feeling the need to reach for his sword whenever Jaime’s boots echoed in his direction, Robb leaned against the fireplace of the throne room, his eyes still fixed on the flames below. “You are running out of chances to escape, Lannister,” he said without looking up. The last report lay across the table, a quickly scrawled note with very little to say beyond: they’re coming. “If you go tonight, you may still make it South before it is too late.” 

[serbrienneoftarth]

@goldcnhand​

Brienne collapsed at the base of the wall with a grunt, falling hard on her knees. Oathkeeper was still tight in her hand. The rush from the battle only began to fade once she realised that the shouts from the courtyard and the wights that had fallen were not some fluke, but a victory won. Her limbs burned. She spit blood at the dark ground. It had been all she could taste for hours, blood and ash and fear.

Over the edge of the wall behind her, light washed the courtyard in front of her. Immediately her eyes shot sideways to Jaime who had still stood next to her, and Podrick too, but she waved the latter on when he stepped towards her, towards the rest of the still breathing men that dotted the brightening courtyard.

She’d taken enough blows to know that she would have a myriad of new scars. Her body ached and she bled in places still. She did not care. She reached for Jaime, as much for help from him to pull her to stand as to touch his hand with her own.

“Jaime.” Her voice was thick and her eyes were wet from emotion, exhaustion, the sting of the air, all of it. They’d both made it. She would have been a dead woman a half a hundred times through the night, if not for him. They’d saved each other time and again.