Alliance- Game of Thrones- Jamie Lannister, Margaery Tyrell (M)

[TaurielRiver]

Note: No spoilers for any part of Game of Thrones season 5. The story does however reference events that occur in season 3 and early season 4.

Despite my unending enthusiasm for A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones, I tend to find it a bit intimidating to write for. But, my overwhelming its-on-again excitement seems to have taken over, and I’m once again interested in Jamie’s character development following the events and emotional experiences of his journey with Brienne. And, I’ve always enjoyed Margaery’s subtle knowhow when it comes to working the system. So, here are my brief reflections on that, channelled into fanfiction.

Alliance

Game of Thrones

Jamie Lannister, Margaery Tyrell (M)

With his left hand he forced the gilded reinforcements, the right clanged uselessly at the embellished handle, gold against iron, habit against reason.

Lunging into the cool, sombre silence of the Great Sept, the echo of his advance parried at the edges of the chamber, a chatter of angry, hollow steps that bounced and tapered to nothing. Wrenching the buckle at his hip, the worn leather slipped easily through the brass, weapons falling by the wayside. Against hard marble, the clatter of a sparring blade and Valyrian steel sounded much the same.

He grizzled at his left shoulder with the opposite wrist, the sleeve of his surcot gouged to a dirty tear. For all the Sellsword’s mercy, the sweltering ache beneath suggested more than a breach to the fabric, but it was the kind of damage sooner repaired by the hand of a flagon than a maester. His pride, or whatever was left of it, was not so easily sated.

There was no clean cut between sharing a bed and a womb. He had loved her at the first, the exit wound far surpassing the narrow bolt through his chest. And now, he felt his castle slipping on that foundation of sand. She is not my other half, he had once mused to his brother, drunk as hell, wise as sin. She is my other side.

The recollection was as forgiving a feint of Bronn’s shortsword, and his head near threatened to spout more and worse, had the trembling in his thighs not given way to unsteadiness. Crossing his hand to the stone pillar, he caught himself before his knees could collide with the polished floor, the seven pointed accolade encrypted at his feet. Drawing himself back against the statue, he cursed, the word swallowed under unseeing eyes, a bare lick of impropriety in the thick veil of wrongs that had passed with their oversight.

He almost felt like being theatrical, revelling in the horror and tragedy of it all. Falling and screaming, something that would appal her in all its vehement indignity, enthral her in its untamed recklessness. But, like a new friend grown comfortable, he found himself doing just the opposite. Nothing. And wondering whether this, in all its still, silent brutality, might yet be the cruellest blow of all.

Cornered at the pass of his thoughts, her entrance near slipped beneath his attention. He was glad it did not. His self-regard could take but a few more scores, and it was still morning. Dispassionate, he composed himself in the shadow of the Stranger, affecting a lackadaisical lean, an offhand sneer. The lie fit so well that it were almost a comfort to wear it, a familiar shield not yet grown too heavy. He waited till she stepped up behind him, her footsteps eerily soft, betraying nothing of her mood.

“I did not think to find you’d taken to prayer” he started, the looming champion of death an unsettling frame of focus for his rushing pulse, his swimming gaze.

“You guess me well” the voice replied. “I sought only a place to think.”

Swinging around, he took her with a fair portion more surprise than he intended. “Lady Margaery. Forgive me, I took you for my sister.”

The sweat of his practice now cooled to the damp of his defeat, he found himself shivering violently, his fatigued muscles protesting at the unnecessary movement.

She smiled, her care both forgiving and belying, she had already divined his mistake. There was no cruelty to the words that followed, nor her quiet taking of his worn appearance.

“And now you see I am not. Had it been otherwise, might you have found yourself pleased, or… disappointed?”

Her response was light, tactful, an offering of confidence should he wish to accept. He was willing to parlay.

“I would ask the occasion. She is not known for her visits here.”

“Neither, I think, are you.”

At this he gave a softer grimace, wondering what possible delirium had him indulging her courteous repartee, the lighter arsenal carried by all of consequence at Kings Landing and no less dangerous than his own.

“You never know. These times might make a Septon of me yet.”

He tried a pinch at the corner of his mouth, his own brand of charm, a second line of defence. He hoped it looked gentler than it felt. Rubbing clumsily at his shoulder, fast stiffening to a tidy knot, the cutting soreness had barely eased before a more urgent affliction was bearing down on him. Throwing himself toward the back of his hand, he kept his balance by the grace of the statue, dignity long exhausted.

“Ehdt-TZCHHU! Aahd’TSHHEU!”

Defeated, he wrestled his wrist more closely under his nose, the resounding scale of the walls unforgiving on the harshness of the sound.

“AEPTCHHHh’ue!”

Still reeling, it was hard to look nonchalant with a hand held in lieu of a handkerchief, sweat-streaked hair dripping into his eyes and no other available to claw it back.

“Bless you!”

Somehow, she was one of the few that managed such an exclamation without sounding condescending, and for that he gave a sniffle of thanks. Drawing the dampened arm aside, he saw her unclip the dark wool cloak draped below her collarbone, offering it to him as if it were some customary act, as casual as one might pass butter with bread.

Seeing his hesitation, she warmed, coaxing, shaking off the gesture along with his concern. “Please. It’s my brother’s, I wear it only to appease him when I walk beyond the gates. But really, such a thing would make no difference to those who truly wished me ill.”

Most of whom remain within the Red Keep, Jamie finished to himself, though such acknowledgements best remained unplayed, even amongst friends, even between allies.

He took the cloak with a murmur of thanks. Getting it on would be a slightly awkward affair, but Margaery had already turned purposefully toward the Stranger, deep in thought.

“The unknown” she mused, giving him time to hang the fabric over his right shoulder, holding it fast with the edge of his chin and shaking the rest over his back. “The god we speak of least, and yet, of all we can really be certain. That our fate can set to any course, at any time.”

With shaky fingers, he fumbled with the clasp at his neck, the catch of the fishhook in the loophole a result of luck rather than skill. Her words provided a salve to his frustration, and he was grateful. The gruelling burn at his ligaments at least reminded him that he had yet to tap out, if nothing else. But the trembling that crept from his chest to the surface of his skin, the desperate watering of his nose- these were proving more unpleasant than the shame of missing each of Bronn’s sly cuts and counters combined.

“A god for the ungodly” he muttered, loosened by fever or impulse, he could not say. Her curiosity winding toward him, he finished it as best as he could remember. An expression of his brother’s, likely a drunken one, it had meant something at the time and he wished he could make anything mean something now. “Even death has a voice at the table of the Seven, so we might raise a toast to our end whilst we can still drink to it.”

Taken by another bout of shivering, he almost wished he were under the influence of anything other than his own insufficiency. She had taken a step closer. This time, it passed his notice until she was carefully pressing the edge of her hand to his temple.

“You are so like my own brother” she said, delicately, for though it came as an affection, both knew there was no accord between himself and Ser Loras. Save, of course, the understanding that one was best, and one was better. Was. Had been. The words slurred through his brain, a gauntlet set by ghosts in a realm without moorings for regret.

“He wouldn’t stay his sword for an injury either. And yet, you both know so little of defeat, perhaps there is something to be said for it.”

Injury. It was kind of her to use the word, rather than it’s less discrete compatriot- illness. It somehow cast his discomfort in the suggestion of inner strength, instead of the crude mess he knew it all was. Poor as his company had been so far, he doubted she’d have the patience for much more of it. With what he hoped was a flicker of grace, he clasped his hand to her shoulder, gently easing her away. “Excuse me.”

Glancing to his side, he gave himself time to wrap his arm firmly in place, for all the good it did.

“EhdTTZCHhhu! Aahd’DCHHhu! …AEHpTCHHhh’ue!”

“There is no need, bless you.”

Thankful for small mercies, he found himself appreciating the calmness, the normalcy in her tone, as if his nose didn’t sound like it had been dredged from Blackwater Bay, his shoulders not quivering at the brink of a landslide. Snide remarks he could bandy, crawling flattery was easily kicked aside, but this was an unfamiliar diplomacy, hung with a genuineness that caught him off balance.

A second offering in less than a turn of the hourglass, this time a plain white handkerchief. It was, albeit, a little delicate for his needs, but his sleeve had long since surrendered. He nodded in relief, giving up on a more eloquent phrase. Again, she spared him the closeness of her gaze whist he pinched it to his nose, suffocating the prickle deep beneath the bridge with no degree of tenderness.

“Sometimes I wonder” she began, deliberate, leaving him time to follow. It was all it took for his interest to lead him a little further from his misery, if only for a moment. “If it isn’t which of the Seven we look to, but which we recognise in ourselves.”

The idea appealed to him, slippery though it was to pin down. “I once thought a joust was won before it started” he answered, edged with hoarseness. Subdued to a tangible substance, he could almost feel the memory. A reality only just beyond his reach, he stood stretching with a limb that didn’t exist. “When your opponent sees your victory reflected back at them, it only leaves room for their defeat.”

How easily he could forget the struggle, if the battle was won. If he could take Cersei now. Wed her, even. Would it be the conquest he always imagined, or the pinnacle of betrayal, the apex of his uneasy climb upon returning to the Capital. Golden lions roaring from every tower yet streets rife with vermin; wolves and stags and dragons on the tongue of every merchant, every whore. Pits of rumour, running shallow as the city sewer and just as unforgivable. It wasn’t so much that he blamed her for what she’d done. He just blamed her for all he couldn’t save her from.

He came back quietly, extricating the ruined handkerchief with faltering decorum before wrenching toward his chest, the cloth held firmly in place whilst the rest of him buckled in exhaustion.

“AhdtTZCHHH-EPTCHHHh’ue! ...Excuse me.”

“Jamie?”

He looked up, surprised to hear her leave-off his knightly title, a small trapping of cordiality set aside for a softer tone.

“If it would not be a trouble to you, I would be grateful for a chaperon on my way back to the Keep.”

Slowly, ever so crookedly, he smiled. It was the first that didn’t feel forced in what seemed like too long. Accompany her back to the Keep indeed. But he didn’t mind pretending, since she would too. Old gods or new, it was only a matter of belief.

Hooking beneath his left side, she wrapped his good arm across her shoulders. To an onlooker, it might appear as if he’d sprained an ankle, not that he was like to faint.

“Shall we take the underground passageway? The street sellers are far too pushy at the turn of noon, it’s when the morning batch of pies start to spoil.”

He looked around, bleary. “What passageway?”

She gave a coy wink, not quite believing he didn’t know, not quite ready to admit it if she did. “It’s no great secret. Though even if it were, I suspect it might be safe with you come tomorrow whether you’d wish it or not.”

A mumble of assent, and they made their way. He swiped his nose against his sleeve, better options now spent. Amid hazy admiration of the less-venerated corridors of the Sept, the slow decline became more noticeable as the passageway grew darker, the air a little cooler.

“How can it all feel the same?” he muttered, the thought breaking from the cage where he kept the rest, conclusions he hoped to starve before their time of reckoning, as many unmended as he had veins left to bleed. “Losing your faith, losing your honour. Someone you hate or someone you love. I’m not sure I know which is which. Or which I lost.”

She frowned at him, but pressed the palm of his hand ever so slightly closer at her shoulder. Without a word of understanding, it was still an unspoken condolence, a vow of silence, a truce.

And of those, he hadn’t had many.

-

[Anonymouse]

YESYESYESSSSSS it's about freaking time someone wrote Jaime! I want to write a comment that does this piece justice but I'm exhausted and still reeling from the emotional turmoil caused by the latest Avengers movie, so I hope you don't mind if I leave an OH MY GOD THIS WAS AMAZING THANK YOU as a placeholder for now.

[Garnet]

kicks down the door hi hello I am so here for this. Iiii did not know we had this fandom in common, but frick yeah A Song of Ice and Fire! I plowed through all of the books a while ago, and I totally understand how intimidating it is to write in the universe. There is a lot going on, between the ten thousand characters and fifteen thousand plot threads. I think I was only brave enough to take a brief swing at Jaqen, a few years back. But look at this, you did it so well!

I'm a little behind on the show, still somewhere towards the end of the fourth season (and they did take in some... directions I'm not entirely thrilled with), but I think I fitted into the timespace this takes please easily enough?

How cool to see Jaime and Margaery interacting, too! That's a relationship (such as it is) that I hadn't given much thought to, but I very much like the way they play off one another.

Also uhhh hi, I like that sound slash spelling for him a whole lot. Delightfully abrasive and undignified, especially for this hot mess of a Lannister. Yiss.

And ooh, Margaery, you equal parts sly and tender little thing. The quiet gestures are so interesting -- offering her cloak and discreetly averting her attention, to spare him the indignity of handfail. And yet I don't and never quite trust you, sweet lady.

And and and, can we talk about this line:

But the trembling that crept from his chest to the surface of his skin, the desperate watering of his nose- these were proving more unpleasant than the shame of missing each of Bronn’s sly cuts and counters combined.

The desperate watering holy shit are you trying to kill me? Your descriptions of his illness and injury-inspired discomfort are so good, especially compounded with the emotional turmoil he's obviously still thickly mired in.

Snide remarks he could bandy, crawling flattery was easily kicked aside, but this was an unfamiliar diplomacy, hung with a genuineness that caught him off balance.

This line rings so true, as well. One of my favorite aspects of his relationship with Brienne was how cards-on-the-table it was and how clearly unprepared for that kind of unapologetic honesty and even brutish nobility Jaime was. Interesting to see it coming through a little with Margaery, too. How do nice, Jaime?

Ugh, ugh. He's so miserable. And I love it so much. Thaa-aaank you for this 8>

[Dusty15]

Yummm! Yessss! So nice to see some more GoT fic here I enjoyed this very much!

[snuffles]

OMG you can't believe how happy I am for this! I just finished all 5 books and was dying! This was so amazingly done it can't type anything more for it right now! Except that I believe his name is Jaime, which I personally think is utterly sexy lol.

[VividBubbles!]

Oh wow! This was great! I completely agree with everything that Garnet said, especially how amazing your descriptions are. It's awesome to see another GoT fic on here. I hope you continue to write more for this fandom. You've done an extraordinary job!

[TaurielRiver]

Anony- AW! Thank you so much, I am crazy pleased this and Jamie pleases you! I am sooo gonna come a-collecting this IOU review though... Haha, but really, ever am I glad for the opportunity to share my emotional devastation following Avengers, because I was so OMG NOO about something... and still am! Okay I should probably cut myself off there... but seriously.... seriously... nooooooooooo!

Garnet- Oooh yiiss! I did maybe actually kind of wonder if you'd read the books, so now I'm double-happy I decided to take a tiny dip in this hundred-headed-universe! (Aaand you totally just gave me an excuse to unearth your fic and gallivant away with it, 'cause oops, Jaqen, um yes, I like.)

But BRIENNE. This was actually one of the relationships that, unexpectedly, really got to me. I think it caught me out in the sense that I didn't expect either of them to be much changed by it, and wow, was I so wonderfully mistaken. It was kind of lovely (is that a word one can use with Jamie?? ) seeing him sort of rediscover a sense of honour within himself through realising he can, in fact, genuinely appreciate someone without it having a direct benefit for him? And then double-whammy, I didn't expect Brienne, who's so used to drawing a sharp line between black and white, to eventually allow her steadfast values to be challenged, and see a bit more of a complicated in-between. Reading as that unlikely mutual respect/bond was developing was so very cool, and also... strangely moving? (Like, murderous incestuous Jamie all opening up about stuff... AWW.)

And hah! I'm glad you like my... uhmmm, splashy-out-of-control take on him! Undignified IT SO IS (aand I can confirm first hand feeling increeedibly undignified muttering it to myself like a crazy person, but now I'm all YAY YOU LIKE! )

Dusty- This makes me very happy! So glad (and flattered! :3) to hear you read and enjoyed, thank you so much! (More GoT, yess, I agree! )

snuffles- Agh yes, the books, I love them! I totally enjoy getting that different spin between the original characters and their portrayal in the show (but mmmyes, somewhere along those lines managed to appreciate Jamie twice! ) Thank you for this awesome comment!

VividBubbles!- Oh my goodness, thank you, you are too lovely! (aaand I unapologetically love it!) That is really so encouraging to hear, I truly appreciate it!

[Juto]

This was soooo great. Your descriptions are so wonderfully vivid and come alive when read. Truly a pleasure to read this.