𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After taking care of Jaime Lannister in Robb Stark's camp, you've fallen for him, but you know you have to hide it and move on before returning him to his family so your heart doesn't break...

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mild swearing, nudity (without sexual content), and maybe some inuendos??? I'm usually very clean so no worries!

𝐀/𝐍: Sooo this is my first Jaime Lannister One-Shot! Funny story, I first knew him of course as the guy 'sleeping with his sister' and thought 'ew, gross, never liking him!' ...*cough* obviously that changed when I found out what a FLUFFY CINAMONROLL HE IS DEEP DOWN! Nik is right, he has a GREAT character arc that the HBO directors and writers MURDERED in the final season. I haven't even watched the show and I'm pissed about it. Anyways, I am now in love with Jaime and I've gotta hide it from my family because they hate Game of Thrones....so I just write fanfiction to release a bit. Also I'm a huge shipper of Brienne and Jaime so any other fans SEND ME A MESSAGE I NEED A BRAIME FRIEND!!!! Ok, on that note, we can move on...

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5516

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𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫, aid to Brienne of Tarth in her assignment to return the Lannister to his estate under orders from House Stark's Queen Regent, you had no idea that you'd fall into a twisted form of stockholm syndrome. Lima syndrome. The exact reverse effect. Unlike the hostage who falls for the captor, you, captor of Ser Jaime Lannister, fell for your prisoner. To ask how would be too broad a question. Perhaps the best answer is slowly. Minute by minute. Every second Jaime opened his trap, both you and Brienne had to restrain the urge to strangle the prick. Only half a day's journey to King's Landing and he proved to be rude, talkative, irritating, and possessing an uncanny wit. Much like his sword, his remarks hit point on.

They had the potential to be deadly, though Ser Jaime seemed to much prefer merely agitating you and Brienne.

What was worse was his flirting.

And somehow, it was always directed at you.

Maybe that's what made your heart warm towards Jaime? You've heard the stories of how he's ruined women's lives with his long blonde locks, now in oily strands clumped with mud. If Jaime's looks, when at their finest, can woo any female in sight, then why shouldn't his mouth? He never seems to shut it, that's for sure.

Even now, as you trudge through the forest, night encroaching, the Kingslayer blabbers on.

"You know, I'm surprised we haven't died yet." Jaime announces, speaking in a tone that causes Brienne to slide you a murderous glance.

It's obvious that the Kinglsayer has much to say on this matter. Usually, you would roll your eyes with the lady knight and shove Jaime in the back, urging him to walk with the same devotion as he talks, but things have begun to change. Jaime's voice no longer bothers you. Not in the slightest. If anything, you encourage him to speak. Jaime's crisp accent is like music to your ears and over the course of your travels, you've acquired a taste for it. So, as Brienne heaves a deadweighted sigh and takes brisk steps with those long legs of hers to put some distance between her and Jaime, you merely drift closer to his side and turn your ear to his voice.

"Robb's men are certainly on the prowl, chasing us," Jaime pauses. "And to think we've made it so far by just walking..."

"Good luck, I suppose," You reply with a shrug of your shoulders.

Jaime chews his lower lip doubtfully. Your breath catches in your throat as you eye his teeth, pulling at the soft flesh. A blush appears on your cheeks and you duck your head right as Jaime's eyes flicker towards you. "Luck?" He ponders. "No. Would you like to hear what I think it is?"

You stifle a laugh and shake your head, but raise it and meet Jaime's questioning gaze. "Sure Kinglsayer," his face lifts ever so slightly at your scoff. "Grace us with your glorious opinion."

"It would be my pleasure," Jaime replies. He gives a weak bow, careful to not bend too far forward. With both his hands secured in shackles in front of him, he'd most likely have an awkward landing should he lose his footing. "If I had to make an educated guess, I would say that fate is sparing us from Robb for a bigger fish."

"Fish?" You lift a skeptic brow.

"A bigger fish," Jaime clarifies. "Something far worse than going back to the Stark's blasted cage."

"Would you just shut up?!" Brienne calls out. You and Jaime stagger, startled by the sudden outburst. "We've got enough to worry about without talking endlessly about it! The more you imagine, the more likely trouble is to strike!"

Jaime laughs. "You are as paranoid as you are ugly."

"She must not be very paranoid," You quip, and then, as payback for Jaime's rude comment about Brienne, you prod him in the back roughly. The Kinglsayer stumbles over his feet, nearly tripping face first into the grass. Rolling your eyes, you seize his arm and lay a hand on his back, guiding him forward. "You've got the agility of a newborn fawn, you know that Lannister?"

"Take me out of these chains and I'll dance without falling once," Jaime challenges, rattling his bonds in your face.

You hesitate, studying his smirk. The way his eyes narrow and his jaw sets, a cheeky fire behind those green irises. His hair is too long to suit him and facial hair has begun to creep across his chin, upper lip, and jawline. It's thick and dark. Much darker than his hair was the first time you saw him ride into Winterfell before he crippled little Bran and everything fell apart. The bridge between the Lannisters and Starks; a chance for peace; and a nice life where you weren't stuck trekking across Westeros with Brienne and Jaime, suffering their banter. Though their eternal squabbling is like nails on a chalkboard and makes someone of a sound mind want to jump off a turett, you'd take their arguing over silence. Silence. It should be comforting. Easy on your ears and your heart, but no.

Silence isn't like it was before this trip.

It's louder than battle cries and dragon fire.

In silence, your strangled emotions rush your headspace, churning in a dizzying circle. Your ears pulse painfully and your heart races as you see breathtaking visions so despairingly impossible yet tempting. It's sinful, your secret thoughts in times of silence. Feeling Jaime's hands on your face, drawing your lips to his. His hair, running freely through your fingers. His lovely, velvety voice whispering in your ear. Confessions of eternal love. Promises of affection, of passion and everything you dream of. Your unrequited love tortures you.

It makes you want to scream.

You cast your eyes away from Jaime and draw your hands back to your sides, regret boiling in your stomach.

Torture is so much worse in silence.

"We're stopping for the night!"

"Oh good," Jaime sighs dramatically. "My feet might've fallen apart if I had to take another step."

"I certainly wouldn't have caught you," Brienne murmurs.

As the knight scouts the area, gathering firewood as she goes, you and Jaime stand awkwardly to the side. The two of you lock eyes and Jaime raises his brows, conveying the question, would you have caught me?

You shake your head and chuckle. If you tried to catch him, he'd surely crush you and the last thing you need is to be stuck under the Kingslayer, especially when he's so dirty. Your eyes skim the rags he's dressed in. They're caked in mud and some blood, probably from the times the Stark guards had to kick him in the ribs to shut him up. Stupid Jaime. He just talks talks talks without a single thought as to who he might tick off or who might've beat him to a pulp in the mud. The guards certainly did, and now he stands right next to you, smelling like a hog. You check him from head to toe, a frown forming on your lips the more you realize how absolutely filthy he is. How the stench hasn't killed you yet is beyond you.

Suddenly, a throaty laugh startles you.

"Like what you see?" Jaime tips his head back and smiles down at you smugly.

"Actually no," You laugh, "You're disgusting."

"Odd." Jaime slides step closer, chains clinking. "Most people seem to think I'm...what was it? Roguishly handsome."

The Kingslayer takes a second step, now hovering over you. Your height difference is evident, dramatic even. You have to tilt your head back to meet Jaime's eyes, and even once you do, you feel the urge to look away. Jaime's gaze is hard. It cuts straight through you like a flaming sword, efficiently sending warm tingles down your back while splicing you in half. You gulp and inch backwards, afraid to be this close to the Lannister. He's a prisoner. On Lady Catelyn's orders, you and Brienne are to bring him to King's Landing in return for her daughters, Sansa and Arya. Heaven bless them, they've been trapped with the Lannisters for so long since their father's brutal murder. Your heart lurches for them.

Wolves among Lions.

They must be so scared.

And that is why you continue to back away from Jaime, despite the feral instinct to rush into his arms and smash your lips to his.

You will get the Stark girls back and that means trading Jaime which consequently means parting ways indefinitely. Goodbyes are always hard, but nothing kills the heart like a lover's farewell, even if it's pathetically one sided. Jaime Lannister may have no feelings towards you, but you'd be spitting a toxic lie if you said you weren't infatuated with him. Him and his dirty face and clothes; his sharp wit; smooth voice; and constant flirting. Just thinking about it chokes you up.

A tear wells in your eye.

You panic and brush at it, pretending you've gotten something in your eye.

Jaime's face falls.

Before he can say anything, you pivot on your heel and march over to Brienne, who's busy by the fresh fire.

"He needs to clean up," You state blandly, waving at the man behind you. "I can't stand his smell anymore."

"Neither can I," Brienne agrees, "But we can't let him go that easily."

"Who says we'd let him go?" You scoff. "One of us will keep an eye on him."

Brienne's shoulders shake as she laughs. "You then. I'm not going to stand around a nude Lannister."

Your face flushes red. It takes every shred of concentration to keep from picturing Jaime naked. You shudder, terrified of the image. Brienne notices your discomfort and stops laughing. The fire groans as she stokes it, turning away from you again. Once you've collected yourself properly, you steal away from the fireside, praying Jaime will take the red tainting your cheeks as a product of the heat of the flames. Regardless of what he thinks, he doesn't mention it and you heave a sigh of relief. Feeling a bit more confident, you straighten your back and draw your head up, a casual expression contrasting your blush.

"What was that about?" Jaime asks.

"We were laughing about how bad you smell," You lie.

Jaime pouts his lips.

You smirk, proud of yourself for keeping it together.

"You're going to have to clean up."

"Where exactly?"

"Just through the trees!" Brienne shouts, pointing to the left, a ways from the fire. "There's a pond of sorts. Looks clean enough."

"A pond."

Brienne scowls. "Would you prefer an ocean, Ser?"

"A proper tub would do."

"Alright," You interject, grabbing Jaime's arm before he and Brienne can go at each other's jugulars. "We'll be back."

"Keep a sharp eye, (Y/N)," Brienne advises you.

You grimace and nod. A sharp eye indeed, a seductive voice, eerily akin to Jaime's whispers in your mind. You're immediately drawn back to the thought of Jaime naked and your whole face explodes, a searing hot red pasted to your cheeks. Distracted by your own discomfort, you don't realize how your hand locks around Jaime's arm. A second too late, you hear Jaime wince. Confused, you look up at him and he squints at you, mildly disturbed. You frown. Jaime drops his eyes to his arm and you follow the motion, gasping when you see your own fingers, stabbing through his sleeve into his skin. Immediately you loosen your hold, and hurry forward, dragging Jaime behind you - but gently, too afraid to accidentally hurt him like that.

For someone so in love...you manage to show it so well.

Just as Brienne said, there's a body of water through a grove of trees. The foliage gives way, creating a large clearing marked by the pond. The forest lines the water's edge, barely allowing for some land to stand on, free of stumps and branches before striding into the murky depths. Also as Brienne said, the water appears remarkably clean for being so still.

"How quaint."

"Must be so tiny compared to your glorious Lannister bath rooms."

Jaime snorts. "I wasn't comparing, your Ladyship."

"I'm not a lady," You snap.

"Well you certainly aren't a man."

You roll your eyes. This man, honestly. Fed up with the pointless conversation, you turn to fully face Jaime and gesture at him from head to toe. "Take it off."

"So demanding," Jaime whistles. "But I suppose some men like that."

You blush. "Not like that, idiot," You hiss. "Besides, I'm not looking."

On that note, you spin around and tuck your arms around yourself for comfort. Seven Hells how this Lannister prince drives you crazy! He mocks you and flirts in the same breath! From behind you, the shuffle of clothes can be heard. You listen intently, catching bits of Jaime's mutter curses and grunts. You bite back a laugh, trapping it between your tongue and the inside of your cheek. Eventually, Jaime swears so loud, the leaves shake and the laugh wriggles out from your mouth, piercing the forest air. You double over, clutching your knees, roaring with laughter.

Jaime groans. "It's not funny! I'm bloody stuck."

"What do you mean?" You ask between fits of laughter.

"My...damned...shirt...won't come off!"

You start to turn around but Jaime interrupts you.

"I'm not wearing any pants, in case you were wondering -"

"Oh gosh," You clap your hand over your eyes and cringe. "Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh my gosh -"

"Calm down," Jaime growls. You mouth, oh gosh a few more times before you can settle down. The fact that you almost saw Jaime half naked in the worst possible way has scarred you as bad as actually having seen. Vision obscured by your palms, glued to your face, you can only hear Jaime as he struggles with his shirt again and gives up, bellow, "godsdammit!"

"Calm down!"

"That's what I told you!"

"Well how about I help you and then we can both do what we're told!" You scream from behind your hands.

"You can't bloody well help playing peek-a-boo!"

"Get in the damned water then!"

"I don't have my shirt off -"

"Get IN! Waist deep you blithering idiot!"

Jaime sighs loudly and stomps off towards the pond. The dirt squelches beneath his feet, mapping his path to the water's edge for you to follow with your ears, seeing as you're blind. Once you hear the water slosh, you take small steps to your left, following Jaime but stopping short of the water.

Then, you peel your hands away and squint...

Your heart races.

All you can see is Jaime's upper half, covered by his grimy shirt. He wades a little closer to the edge. There's only so far he can go without leaving the safety of the higher water level, so you bend down to roll up your pant legs and tear off your boots. Once your pants are balled up above your knees, you kick aside your shoes and touch a toe to the water. It's surprisingly warm, for a pond in the middle of a temperate forest. Still, you grimace as you dip two whole feet in and move towards the Kingslayer. He stands somewhat awkwardly, the water rippling around his waist, soaking through his shirt.

With every step you take, the water moves.

You stop, an inch of skin below your knees still dry.

Then, you reach out to Jaime, careful not to get too close.

The laces of his tunic are hopelessly knotted, clumped in mud, and take a whole minute to untangle, but you refuse to rush this moment. As embarrassing as it is to think of Jaime completely bare underneath the water, you manage to shove that aside and focus on the laces. Two are particularly stuck, woven tightly together and you give a sudden tug to free them, accidentally jerking Jaime towards you. He nearly loses his balance and topples onto you but catches himself just in time by capturing your waist and supporting his whole weight as you clutch the laces of his shirt. As Jaime stops himself falling, he winds up looming over you, his face a breath away from yours. You hold your breath and look up into Jaime's green eyes.

His lips part as he stares at you, eyes sweeping across your face.

You feel his hands tighten around your waist.

"(Y/N)..." He murmurs.

In a panic, you tug his shirt laces one last time and they spring apart. You quickly pluck the key to Jaime's bonds from your belt and slide it into the lock. Two twists and the shackles open. You pull them away and sling the chains over your shoulder.

"There, done."

You try to turn around and wade back to shore, but Jaime grips your waist and spins you right back around, drawing you closer to his chest.

"Jaime," You warn.

"Oh relax," the Kingslayer reprimands.

"I've got to go keep watch from shore. You take your time."

Again, Jaime stops you from leaving. "Or," He offers, a sly smile playing on his stupidly perfect lips. "You could just stay here."

Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly dampen it. "No. I - I can't."

"You can. You're already wet. What's the difference?"

"Being more wet."

Jaime laughs at your stubbornness and holds your gaze, forcing his smile to soften as his eyes search your face with the tenderness of a mother's embrace. "I won't look, you know..."

"Liar. All men would look."

"I'm not all men."

You open your mouth, but no retort comes. Instead, you stand gaping like some concussed goldfish. Jaime shakes his head lightly and lets you go. You're free now, and yet to find yourself lingering in the shallows, rooted to the pond floor watching as Jaime ventures deeper into the waters away from you, his hands wandering under the hem of his shirt. Your eyes widen just as he grasps the material and yanks it upwards right up and over his head, exposing his chiseled back. Old scars litter his smooth, pale skin. There's mud and grime smeared here and there, some places dry and scabby, others still wet. Dirty as he is, you can't help but stare.

For the first time in your life...you're seeing Jaime Lannister shirtless.

And shamefully you admit, you can't look away.

I can't stand here all day.

No, you really can't.

You should go back to shore, and wait for Jaime to finish. Watch for enemies.

But sometimes you can't always do the right thing.

That's how you ended up peeling off every item of clothing until you were stark naked, and drift deep into the water. You practically dive in after tossing your clothes to shore, worried that Jaime will turn around and see you completely exposed. Luckily, he sinks for a moment, disappearing under the water just as you get deep enough for the blue to rise above your chest. Jaime breaks the surface a second later, tossing his head back and shaking his hair out. Water sprays across the pond. It glistens on his chest, now clear of mud. You stare open mouthed, caught in a trance where everything slows and Jaime's ascendance from the water drags on, leaving you stunned.

Hot.

It's all you can think.

Hot.

Jaime reaches up and runs his hand through his hair, smoothing it out.

Hooooooooot -

"Staring again?"

You snap your mouth shut.

Jaime laughs softly. Water drips from his hair down his face. You train your eyes on a tree in the distance, refusing to get sucked into the Lannister's good looks a second time.

"Speechless? I know," Jaime taunts, swimming closer. "I tend to have that effect."

"I'm thinking," You argue. "There's a difference."

"Stop thinking," Jaime breathes as he pauses, floating less than a foot away from you.

"That's impossible."

"No it's not," Jaime insists.

He shifts closer.

You drift back, nervous. "J-Jaime..."

The kingslayer stops at the sound of your stutter, concern written across his face. Somehow, this gentle, caring side of Jaime that only so often sees the light of day tortures you more than any hair toss or witty remark. His soft smile, tender gaze, and of course the inappropriate proximity between the two of you is enough to melt you right where you stand. Your legs go first, now gook, sweeping away in the water. As the water moves slowly it sloshes up both of your exposed bodies, but it only roses so far up Jaime's chest.

He's so damn tall.

Not far behind Brienne, and she's giant compared to you.

But Brienne doesn't make your heart flutter when she has to look down at you...

Right now, with Jaime this close, breathing on your face, his skin radiating heat that pools over your body, warming whatever of you is above the water, it all sets your heart ablaze. This fire, this passion for Jaime Lannister burns with an unquenchable thirst. It wraps around your heart, squeezing it right out of your chest. Your ribs ache. They itch from the burn. Your whole body tingles. Shivers, both hot and ice cold rush up and down your spine like fingers - Jaime's fingers - tracing every vertebrae.

Unable to breathe, let alone think, you succumb to the burn and lose yourself in Jaime's oh-so-soft eyes.

"Close your eyes," Jaime whispers.

"Why?" You ask.

But you close your eyes anyway, against your better judgement.

When the world goes dark, and all you see is the glow of your fleshy lids, the water moves suddenly. You don't have to see to know Jaime's sliding closer, breaking through the water. Shattering your distance. He's breaching the space between your bodies, bringing his face near to yours. Your chest tightens, but you continue to breathe in laboring fits. You can hardly hear over the thudding of your frantic heart and the Gregorian chant of your feelings for Jaime. You know this is wrong and you should run away, but you can't seem to move.

Run.

He's going to kiss you...

And if he does, you know you'll never live down this attachment. You'll fall hopelessly in love with Jaime, if that's not already happened. The time will come to give him up, to say goodbye, and return to Winterfell and what then? Are you supposed to just pretend none of this ever happened? That you never laid eyes on the Kingslayer, hated him with every fiber of your being, and then sunk so low as to give your heart to him? How could you ever forget his voice? His beautiful, hypnotic eyes? That ridiculously enfuriating smile he has when he's gotten the best of you. His back...the only bare part of him you've seen, besides what's visible of his chest.

How can you forget Jaime Lannister when your soul feels tied to him?

Jaime's breath swallows your lips and the spell is broken.

"Finish up," you murmur, eyes pressed shut.

And then you turn away, wading back to shore without caring if Jaime sees you climb out naked. You dress quickly and wait for Jaime to finish scrubbing through his hair and over his body. He goes through the motions as quickly as possible, sparing you only a minute or two to stare at the treetops and away from Jaime, heart yearning, eyes filling with tears, and mind a numb wasteland. You can't seem to think anymore. There's just nothing left. Without Jaime...you'll be a ghost of what you were.

He's changed you.

As he leaves the pond and redresses, you put on his cuffs and then walk ahead of him back to the camp. Neither of you dare speak the whole way. Once you break through the tangle of trees you first passed to find the pond, Brienne looks up from the fire, her sword firmly wound about her hilt. She locks eyes with you and Jaime and relaxes immediately.

That is until she notices your somber expression and she stands up abruptly, towering over you.

"Is everything alright?" She asks.

"Fine. Just tired."

"You're wet." Brienne nods at your dripping hair, which you hadn't yet noticed.

Too emotionally drained to care, you finger the soaked ends and mumble, "figured I should clean up while I had the chance."

Brienne narrows her eyes, suspicious of not only your monotone response, but the idea of you and Jaime stripped to nothing in the same body of water. Though her doubt is obvious, so is her discretion. Brienne has been a good friend to you and you know that she'd never do anything to make you uncomfortable. Because of that, she relents, sitting back down and gestures for you to join her.

The three of you gather around the fire, eating what little rations you have left. As the sky grows dark and the stars freckle the impenetrable shadows above the treetops, Brienne offers to take first watch and gets up to walk about, leaving you alone with Jaime Lannister.

The two of you share a quick glance.

Eyes linger.

(Y/c/e) against green

And then, being the coward you are, you whip around and stare at the fire though you can feel Jaime's eyes caressing the side of your face. As the night wanes and you begin to drift out of consciousness, you lower yourself down. The ground is rough. Uneven layers of dirt, rock and grass. The particularly bumpy spots poke through your tunic and cloak, keeping you from fully resting. You listen to the flames fizzle and pop whilst you twist and turn, failing to get comfortable on the damn uncomfortable forest floor. Eventually you give up and lay in the least painful position; on your side.

Facing away from the Kingslayer.

Finally...

You sigh...shut your eyes...and shiver.

A terrible, bone wracking shiver.

Then you're fine.

So you relax into the soil, trying fruitlessly to think of anything but Jaime.

Every now and then, you almost fall asleep. However many times you think you'll sleep, you always wake with a start, shivering. The cold is coming to bite now that the night is at its peak. Not even the fire can save you from the chill. You shake, twitching like an epileptic, very, very cold.

Damn my stupid...thin...skin...and lack of sufficient body heat!

You huff in defeat and let the shivers overtake your body.

And then you hear someone grunt.

A pair of feet shuffle towards you.

They pause.

You frown, and reach for your knife.

Something drops to your side.

"Please don't stab me."An innocent voice pleads, all soft and sleepy.

You take your hand off your blade and snuggle them back under your head as a makeshift pillow.

Whatever Jaime wants...you hope he gets it over with so you can sleep.

Not that you'll ever get a wink of it being this freaking cold.

You shiver again.

A pair of hands run over your waist.

You tense.

"Relax..." Jaime whispers.

His hypnotic voice lulls your senses into a delicious oblivion. The crackle of the fire fades into the background. Mere ambience.

Jaime slides his hands around you.

"Jaime..."

"Shh," Jaime crosses his arms at your stomach and then draws you back, pulling you across the dirt and against his chest. You freeze, suddenly awake. Your whole back, from behind your head to your heels tingles, your nerves all excited. Jaime's hands link together, brushing against your gut while his arms are nooked comfortably under your armpits, almost as if you were made for one another.

Two pieces, slotting together.

His chest rumbles with every breath he takes. You're probably only imagining it, but you swear you can feel his muscular torso through his tunic.

Best of all, Jaime is warm.

His body heat seeps out of his pores and blankets you, warming you inside and out within seconds of him embracing you from behind.

You sigh and recline deeper into his arms.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, and Jaime tilts his head to rest on yours. His chin buries itself in your hair. The skin of his throat covers your ear and neck. Unsurprisingly, it's warm.

"Are you still cold?" Jaime asks softly.

His breath tickles your ear.

"No."

Silence.

And then, "Your hair is wet."

"You're very warm."

Jaime chuckles. You feel his throat and chest vibrate. "Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment." You retort.

"Must we always argue?" Jaime inquires, shifting his body around. "It's really getting old."

"And arguing with Brienne isn't?" You muster a scornful laugh. "What do you want us to do anyway? Talk about the weather?"

"We could talk about us."

Us?

Your heart skips a beat. Jaime's is ramming right through his chest. You can feel it thudding against your back.

"What about us?"

"About...how you ran away from me back in the pond earlier this evening..." Jaime starts awkwardly. He pauses to clear his throat which gives you two second to realize how much you hate him. Jaime Lannister, Kingslayer. The most gorgeous man you'll ever see, even when he's grown out a prison beard and dirty locks. Every inch of him unkempt. Even after bathing, he retains a musk that's neither pleasant nor foul. His arms are strong. They cage you against his body, making you ache to run while deeper down in your heart of hearts, you want to spin around and kiss him.

Or better yet...let him kiss you.

We can't.

"Why not?"

"What?!" You hiss, startled.

"Why can't we?"

Can't we...what? It's then that you realize you've said that bit out loud and Jaime heard.

"We just...we -"

"Can't be together?" Jaime murmurs in one breath.

His words warm your scalp and turn your stomach.

You bite your lip as tears build, threatening to spill over and stain your cheeks. Afraid to speak without shattering, you merely nod your head, gently so as not to hurt the man behind you; your prisoner, your bargain, your trade, an enemy and the man you're hopelessly in love with.

"Why not?"

"Why not?!" You shout under your breath, patience wearing thin. You give a strangled cry of outrage. "Jaime - we....we can't! I'm a Stark and you're a Lannister! A freaking Lannister! The Old Kings heir and...and you have a life where I can't fit and your sister -" you scoff rolling your head back on Jaime's shoulder, his jawline skims your cheek. "Don't even get me started on that little -"

"Cersei isn't what you think."

"No, she isn't what you think, Jaime. She's been manipulating you since you were kids and now that you're a free man, you're actually decent! You aren't the prick everyone assumes, Jaime! My gosh I actually like you! Can you believe that?! I started out just like everybody else and now I'm so in love with you I can't even function, knowing I'll be leaving you behind forever in a few days.

"You've ruined me, Jaime Lannister and I hate you for it."

Jaime is quiet.

You swallow hard.

There...

I said it...

I told him.

A cold weight sinks in your stomach.

Jaime's arms feel fake now. Like a ghost of an embrace. A figment of your imagination.

"... you're in love with me?"

Oh Jaime. His voice is so timid, so uncertain.

He sounds like a child.

"Yes..." You trail off, debating over whether there is more to say. The 's' hangs in the air. It itches. Feeling embarrassed, you open your mouth to defend yourself but Jaime moves so suddenly, you would've never seen it coming.

Without warning, he flips you around, pressing both your chests together. You part your lips mid gasp and Jaime smashes his mouth into yours. Open mouthed, he kisses you ferociously. Devouring your lips with an intensity you'd never have imagined he had in him. Not when it came to you, both of you, lips locked together, your hands coming up to cradle his face. Jaime cups your shoulder blades, keeping you flush against his torso. He breaks the kiss, pressing softer ones to the corner of your mouth, then your cheeks and chin and jaw.

His mouth travels down your throat and you tilt your head back, humming in pleasure.

Your hands tangle themselves in his hair.

Jaime kneads your back, leaving marks in your skin, even through your shirt.

But you could care less.

You're Jaime's...

You want him to mark every inch of your skin; to tattoo his name on your being with his lips, his hands...

The kisses become sloppy. His tongue runs over your heated skin as you let out a soft moan -

Jaime takes a hand off you back to press a finger to your lips, silencing you.

Voice haggard, dripping with passion, Jaime mutters, "Brienne will hear."

"I don't care," you state breathlessly, scooting upwards to lean down and press a deep kiss to Jaime's lips. "I want you, Kingslayer..."

Jaime groans and bites your lip. "How come I hate it...when other people call me that...but with you..." He runs his tongue along your lower lip and you smile against his mouth.

"I love you."

"Thank you."

You chuckle. "You're supposed to say it back."

Jaime laughs and touches his forehead to yours. "I love you too, My Lady."

"I'm not a lady," you remind him.

"No, you are not," Jaime agrees, stroking your face with both his hands, an adoring smile on his lips. "But you are My Lady."

You smile, teary eyed, and lay back down with your head nestled into Jaime's chest. He drapes his arms around you and presses a chaste kiss to your temple before laying back and closing his eyes. The two of you lay in comfortable silence, free of tension. Tangled in his arms and legs, you're just about to fall asleep when Brienne comes back to the camp and spots the two of you. Her eyebrows go halfway up her large, bald forehead, and you merely stare at her blankly.

Yes...things with Jaime will be complicated...

But right now you want to sleep in his warm embrace.

Brienne nods, understanding and sits down by the fire, taking second watch and allowing you and Jaime some time.

Finally, you sleep.