𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 #𝟏, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘺.
But they forged her in glory.
GAME OF THRONES FANFICTION
JAIME LANNISTER X OC
#2 in GOT 12/09/22
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299 AC. THE WESTERLANDS.
THE MAESTER'S TENT WAS BIG, FULL OF ODD SMELLS, SOME PLEASANT SOME NOT. Her bloodied hand trembled, as the Maester and servants alike began to dab at it with a wet cloth. She clenched her teeth as they began to wrap it, with a dressing, it would leave a nasty scar - she was still covered in that soldier's blood, she had not had time to change. Jenny had still not answered Lady Catelyn, who sat across from her.
The blonde woman could not bear to meet her elder's eyes, like a scorned child. Jenny felt like a traitor to the Stark's for the way she knew that her affections for the man were not right, but last night, she could not help herself - it was Jaime who showed restraint. She already knew the reason why, it wasn't because of her honor; it was because of Cersei, his heart was hers. It pained her.
She couldn't have been more wrong in her thoughts.
Jaime had been genuine in his words, he could not bear the thought of leaving her with his bastard. With no titles, no home, and no stability. He could not risk it. He could not marry her even if she did become pregnant, even if it did please his Lord Father - Jaime was anointed white cloak of the Kingsguard, he could sire no children, it was in his vows. An oath. He had broken oaths before, but maybe that was the reason he was so much more determined to keep this one. He would not bring her dishonor.
The Lady of Winterfell reached out, grasping Jenny's good hand in hers. "It is alright, my dear Jenny," smiled the woman softly, her raid hair carrying a gentle breeze with it. The Daemadar could still not look up, tears stabbed at her eyes.
I AM A TRAITOR, MY LADY.
Is what Jenny wanted to wail, like a small child who had lost their toy, holding onto their mother's skirts desperately. All Jenny could manage was a tiny tear that trickled down her cheek and onto their held hands.
Lightly, with a scarred palm, Lady Catelyn tilted Jenny's chin upwards. Blue met blue, ocean met river speckled with the black scales of trout. The Stark could see the upset in her eyes, she had already known what Jenny's response was going to be. She could see it, in the way she so selflessly was willing to take a blow from a sword for him. The way he had roared and nearly choked himself trying to swing for Lord Karstark.
She had wanted to scream. To unleash fury at the Daemadar, who had betrayed Catelyn's family. But the fury had not come. It was her own upset, a deep feeling of disappointment in her chest. She wanted to believe Jenny was unwell, from all of the time kept captive in the Lannister camps; the things that he may have done to her. Yet, Jenny insisted he never touched her; that he treated her well.
