RIVER OF GOLD - J. LANNISTER
pairing: jaime lannister x reader
summary: stolen glances make up for unspoken words.
warnings: nothing too bad really, cersei being her manipulative self, reader makes new friends and allies, reader and jaime upgraded to eye contactship status, not proofread im sorry- i have a quiz tomorrow :')
notes: i'm exploring other characters' povs, jaime will be next so stay tuned bc a lot will be developed soon... also i am following tyrion's show personality as you guys will see. lastly, i have come up with two ocs for this fic that you will be introduced to on this chapter :)
The days and weeks following your awkward moment with Jaime were… odd.
You still hadn't found out what compelled him to leave you so abruptly that day, but ever since, your interactions had drastically reduced. He began to opt for the seat farthest away from yours at the dining table, and you had never seen him so dedicated to his station in the Kingsguard. It confused you, but you left it be— as much as you were able to— and focused on getting to know the ladies at court, hoping to stop depending on your sister's list of friends and find companions of your own.
You registered the number of the page you were at in the anthology you were still reading, gently shutting the book and placing it by your side. Tyrion, who was keeping you company at the library, noticed your movement, setting his own volume down as he waited for you to speak.
“What do you think of the ladies at court?” you spoke up with a hesitant tone, earning a quiet laugh from your reading partner.
“Don’t you reckon your sister will have a more informed opinion than me?”
You traced the corners of the book that sat on your side. “I don't believe Lysa's circle of social climbers is the most reliable company. Do you?”
Your gaze met Tyrion's with a mischievous smile. A lady such as you shouldn't be so upfront, but you and him shared a similar sense of humour. A genuine friendship had been growing between you and the younger Lannister, which gladly surprised you. Besides your handmaid, Tyrion had become the only person in the Keep whom you trusted enough to have open conversations with. You were still getting to know the ladies at court, his sister was no gentle flower, and his brother… oh well.
What could you say of Jaime Lannister? He was undoubtedly a very skilled swordsman, a controversial member of the Kingsguard, and… an odd friend of sorts, you believed. Until he became a fugitive in the halls of the castle, avoiding you like a plague. It was a shame, really, but it thankfully didn't affect your friendship with his brother.
“I have no strong opinions of the feminine half of the court,” Tyrion replied, “my dearest sister has never approved of the ‘little monster’ chatting with her fine court. ‘Not now’ and ‘we’re busy’ were the most common greetings I received, and I haven't wandered around her ladies’ parties ever since.”
The mention of Cersei’s doings had your face contorting briefly, before you fixed your features into a neutral expression. You had never possessed a good impression of the Queen, but your recent proximity to her youngest brother had opened your eyes to some aspects of her true nature. Tyrion was not that much younger than you, and you trusted one another with stories of the hardships you had or still faced— such as deceased mothers and egocentric older sisters. Lysa was a dumb, innocent sweetheart compared to Cersei, you came to find out.
Your eyes roamed your surroundings before you spoke again. “Firstly, I'm sorry about your sister's cruel behaviour, that's no way to treat a little brother.” You paused for a moment at the thought of Edmund— you wondered how he was doing without you to plead his case to your father whenever he wanted to sleep in instead of training in the early morning. “And, if that's the case, I suppose I will have to trust my… two female friends at court.”
“You have good judgement,” Tyrion said with a humorous tone, “though speaking of friends… my brother hasn't mentioned you in a while. What happened?”
Of course this would fall on your head eventually. You looked up at the ceiling in resignation; the library had beautiful frescoes, at least. “I have no clue. He was being his usual insufferable self after dropping me off at my door, then Cersei walked by and he switched up completely before joining her and the King. I have no real idea as to why. Your sister doesn't seem to dislike me that much, at least not openly— her ladies in waiting even sweet talk me.”
Tyrion started out with a small smile at your initial comments, but his face quickly turned serious at your mention of Cersei's presence during what happened in the corridor to your chambers. “I see. It is truly a mystery, then,” he commented. Something under his tone and eyes was unclear to you, but you could tell it differed from his words.
The day went by, and you were finally rewarded with an exquisite supper to restore your energy. You had been engaging in courtly events more actively lately, and it was no easy feat. Your self assigned mission was to make a good impression and find friends amongst the noble ladies. It had been surprisingly successful so far. Over the past few weeks, you managed to meet a couple of girls other than your sister’s friends, and they seemed more authentic than you had expected.
Supper was served, and you enjoyed it with your recent friends. Across the table was Lady Alys Florent, and to your left sat Lady Meredyth Stokeworth— your newly found saviours at court. Alys, as her name alluded to, came from the Reach, and was offered a room in the Red Keep to step in after a lady who had passed away during childbirth. As for Meredyth, her family resided north of King's Landing, which allowed her to spend a great deal of time at the Keep.
Alys and Meredyth knew each other for a while now, but they still welcomed you into their little group. Alys was almost three years your senior, whilst Meredyth was the same age as you. Alys, carrying the Florent upbringing, which shared much in common with the ways of the Tyrells, was sweeter with her words and enjoyed the game of chess that socialisation in the capital involved. Meredyth, on the other hand, grew up in the Crownlands, and was utterly bored by court intrigue and unnecessary ceremonies, though she did know how to play the part when needed. You hoped you could build a bond with them at least somewhat like the one you cherished with your eldest sister, Catelyn.
“You were awfully morose during the Queen's afternoon tea,” Alys stated, looking at Meredyth with a knowing grin.
“It’s hard to not be bored to oblivion and back when an afternoon tea turns into an hour of watching Jocelyn Swyft try to score points with the Queen,” the young Stokeworth huffed quietly, setting the cutlery she held down on her plate. “what even is the point, anyways? She's already her lady in waiting.”
“Mere! You said you would behave.” Alys glanced your way before turning back to your other friend. “You will shock our new friend this way, and she's the only lady left whom you haven't scared away.”
“She’s not impressionable like Queen Cersei's ladies in waiting,” Meredyth retorted, “Why do you think she befriended us and not the plain arse kissers?”
“I indeed do not wish to join the Queen's party of tortured souls,” you acquiesced, hiding your smile with your goblet of arbor white.
Alys gave you and Meredyth a look of disapproval. “You two will get us in trouble with those tongues of yours,” she stopped mid sentence, looking left and right before proceeding, “... but I do agree.”
“So my point stands,” Meredyth said with a look of triumph on her face.
Alys rolled her eyes. “You won't stand if you make your points known so openly and frankly—”
Your friends fell into their usual light-hearted bickering, but you caught a white shadow behind them out of the corner of your eye. There was no evident reason for you to seek it, but you looked up anyway. And when you did, you saw him— standing a few yards away, with his emerald eyes fixed on you, was none other than Jaime Lannister. You attempted to hold his gaze, but he looked away almost immediately, walking away from your sight.
You felt a nudge on your shoulder, forcing you to snap back into reality. “What do you think?” Meredyth asked.
“Of?” You blinked, confused.
“You weren't listening, I think,” Alys spoke, “Mere was asking if you knew Queen Cersei's brothers.”
“Oh.” Your lips parted, but no words came for a good moment. “No— I mean, only Tyrion, the youngest.”
You felt your heart beat a little faster in your chest at the lie you had just told.
The night went by, and soon after came the morrow. It was time for breakfast already, but Tyrion had an insistent little thought on his mind that wouldn't dissolve, which in turn forced him to get to the bottom of it. On his own.
A dwarf who had been scorned by his father and older sister since the moment of his birth, Tyrion grew up knowing the paths in his future were incredibly limited, especially compared to his older brother. And yet, to all the Lannisters’ shock and consternation, right before Jaime— the golden heir— could become of age and follow Tywin's footsteps, King Aerys named him for the Kingsguard. Tyrion still remembered the disgrace that took his father that year. It was a year of grief; all that Tywin had worked for, his legacy, his lineage— all gone.
All of a sudden, after his brother's mandatory abdication of the Lannister titles and claims, it was Tyrion who was on the frontline of the succession. Yet, surprisingly, the event didn't taint their relationship like it did with so many siblings. But then, Jaime had always been the closest Tyrion had to a friend— until you approached him, that was. And out of love for his brother, Tyrion had ignored what he knew deep down for a while now. What he knew had been happening since his childhood, that made Cersei revel in the downfall of her family's legacy.
You were a refreshing presence in the sea of snakes that slithered along the Red Keep. Unlike the cruel and manipulative Cersei, Tyrion recognised a genuine soul in you— and he could also tell his brother saw it as well, perhaps even before him. There was more to Jaime than what met the eye, but Tyrion observed how the two of you interacted. The fish was in the process of catching the lion by the hook, but he watched that process come to a surprising halt recently.
When you told him about what had happened before things between you and Jaime froze, everything made sense. But fear not, he thought to himself. He was going to have his say in this. So here he was, in his sister's chambers, out of his own— albeit begrudging— will. Cersei had held her teeth over Jaime's neck for long enough already.
“What brings you here to bore me with your presence?” Cersei enquired, her voice low and annoyed, eyes not moving from her goblet.
Tyrion took the liberty to walk farther in, standing right by the table his sister enjoyed her breakfast from. “Good morrow to you as well,” he replied with feigned enthusiasm.
Unfortunately, however, their discussion was interrupted before Tyrion could even think of making any arguments. The door opened, and from the hallway came the last person he could've wanted in the room at that given moment.
Jaime stepped in without a clue of the tension in the air, greeting his siblings with one of those grins of his that could make an unaware passerby believe he was utterly happy all the time.
“Join us, Jaime.” Cersei set her goblet down, gesturing at the free chairs; Jaime complied. What a novelty, Tyrion thought. “Was there something you wanted to say… little brother?”
His sister's tone was so trained whenever they had company. Serpents do release their venom strategically, after all.
“It seems my memory has forsaken me this time,” he responded, equaling her moderation with his own tone, “though our brother here owes me some catching up, I believe.”
“Do I?” Jaime asked, his smile widening.
“Have you talked to our friend yet?”
Cersei's expression faltered with a frown. Jaime's grin fell.
“We haven't been exactly on talking terms—”
“And you shouldn't be.” Cersei placed her hand on Jaime's arm, her nails resembling claws in Tyrion's eyes. “It isn't very appropriate for a member of the Kingsguard to go about chasing little fish.”
“Is that what you think, brother?” Tyrion questioned, watching his sister's grip grow tighter.
“I—” the young knight hesitated, “Cersei’s right. I simply got distracted during a moment of boredom.”
Tyrion felt his sister's scorching gaze on him. “Is that all?” she asked.
“It appears so. Excuse me.”
The younger Lannister left the room in defeat. This was going to be harder to untangle than he had initially thought. Despite the current situation, though, there was one thing he still trusted— sooner or later, you would have Jaime slip out of Cersei's claws.
Your day had been uncommonly joyful so far. Breakfast was delectable, and surprisingly free from Lannister interventions, which you were already thankful for. But on top of that, you had assuredly made two new friends for good.
Alys and Meredyth were unexpected yet welcome additions to life at court. Meredyth was closer to you in age and feisty spirits, which allowed you to gossip about all the pompous hypocrites of high society with her. Alys, in contrast, appreciated ceremonies more than you and Mere— probably due to being brought up in a house that aspired to match the grandness of its higher lords, you considered. The three of you shared a good balance, and you were grateful to have feminine company other than your maid’s in the castle grounds.
The King was busy somewhere none of you knew, and the queen hadn't summoned her court today, preferring the privacy and solitude of her quarters. A free day, finally. You and your lady friends chose to spend your afternoon in the gardens— the perfect spot to disappear and relax in.
“I’m so glad to be away from my thickheaded family for however long the divine forces allow me,” Meredyth sighed, looking at the sky above dramatically.
“Surely they can't be that… challenged,” you laughed, “the Stokeworth fortune still stands, that is no easy feat.”
Alys took your arm, intertwining it with hers. “I usually lecture Mere on these things, but I'm afraid her relatives really are a bit… thick, as she says,” she giggled, almost a whisper.
“Laugh all you want, you two.” Meredyth bent her arm over her forehead, posing like a damsel in distress. “I am doomed!”
“With a face and curves like yours, I'm sure you'll manage to escape well enough,” you quipped, bringing Meredyth closer with your free arm.
“That is what I always tell her.” Alys looked at your friend, then nodded in your direction. “Though what about you?”
You tilted your head. “Me?”
“Do you miss your family?” she asked plainly.
“More than her, certainly,” you chuckled, but your tone betrayed you, “but yes, I miss them. It gets better, but I still miss my siblings a lot, especially my eldest sister.”
“Catelyn, right?” Mere mused, “My sister saw her once, not long before her wedding. Falyse said her cheekbones were ‘too sharp’, which is her bitter way of saying your sister is very pretty.”
“Cat is very pretty— and a great sister. I begged my father to let me go with her to the North at first. That's how desperate I was to avoid this place.”
“And your sister, Lysa,” Meredyth added, “Poor Lord Arryn— even if he's already old and dull. I have no idea how you charming Tullys were behind that one.”
Alys caressed your arm, and threw a stern look of disapproval at your friend. It reminded you of Cat. “You’ll see that the three of us will have enough fun here to make the time fly,” she assured, playfully nudging you with her elbow, “we will all be married to eligible lords before the blink of an eye.”
You and the girls continued your stroll, reaching the outer hedges that were clearly visible to the castle. The three of you had let go of each other's arms by now— Alys was busy smelling the rose hedges, meanwhile Mere had left to check the vines near the exit.
Before you could call for any of your friends, you felt a lingering gaze on you, a distant presence somewhere. Your eyes moved intuitively, following your gut. And when you looked up, there he was again, though farther away than last time— in his white armour, with his spun gold locks framing his face and eyes squinting slightly under the waning sunlight. You stood still where you were in the garden, as did he from the balcony, eyes meeting without a word. None of you dared to make any moves.
The bells of the Great Sept rang loudly, cutting through the previous silence. You made your way to the garden’s exit, in a rush to join Alys and Meredyth. The afternoon was reaching its end, and it was best to retreat before dusk. Your friends chattered merrily ahead of you, their eyes focused on the path ahead. You took the opportunity to glance back at the balcony. Jaime was still there. Your throat grew tight, almost like a knot had taken hold of it. You couldn't fight the feeling that the two of you had to break this silence, one way or another.
