A/N - This chapter was inspired by the incredible Northern Attitude by Noah Kahan (yes, I love the Hozier version too, but the original was the one I listened to whilst writing this time around!) Reader is Ned's little sister, who was betrothed to Jaime after Robert's Rebellion for this one. I hope you all enjoy it.
Your nails were digging into your palm as you tried to calm your flaring temper. After all, in King's Landing, it wasn't deemed acceptable for a lady to raise her voice, let alone for her to throw a punch the way you were longing to.
Perhaps, if it hadn't been Robert who had made the comment, you could have just brushed it off and forgotten about it. If it had been anyone else, you could have just pretended not to have heard and gone about your day, embarrassed but levelheaded enough to ignore it. But you had known Robert since you were children. He had been betrothed to your sister. He had gone to war for her. For your family.
I've never been more jealous of a man than I will be of the King Slayer on his wedding night. He had grunted, snorting with laughter in that disgusting way he always did when he'd had too much drink, his eyes roaming over you from the other end of the table, imagining himself in your betrothed's place. Picturing himself in your bed. He's a lucky man, getting to break her in.
It had made you feel sick, thinking back on all the times you had spent together as children, wondering whether he had always been thinking of you like that. When you had built snowmen with him and Lyanna in the Godswood, your hands frozen from the cold, had he been picturing himself having his way with you? When you would sit and watch him train with your brothers, had he been considering the ways he would want to take you?
Gods, it was disgusting to even consider it, let alone to put it into words for the people around him to hear.
And Seven Hells, it had made your blood boil. It was one of the most humiliating things you had ever heard. So, you sat, seething, your nails biting into your palms, your teeth gritted, and you stared at the wooden tabletop, trying your hardest to keep it all inside. To be the nice girl that your betrothed had accepted, the one he expected.
"My Lady?" a voice interrupted, and you blinked slightly, your eyes lifting to find Jaime watching you carefully from his spot at your side. "Are you well?"
You swallowed down the venom that had risen in your throat, forcing a small, unconvincing smile onto your lips.
"Yes, My Lord," you started, your voice escaping you far more clipped than you had been hoping. "I'm not sure I've adjusted to the heat yet," you added, forcing out a half-hearted chuckle as he watched on, his brow furrowed like he could see straight through your lie.
"And you're sure that's all?" he hummed softly, leaning in a little closer so that he wouldn't be overheard by the rest of the table. "You're not unwell?"
You could feel your heart stutter in your chest at his concern, your stomach doing somersaults. "I'm quite well," you confirmed, reaching to place your hand gently over his on the bench between you. "But I am wearied," you added softly. "I may take my leave rather early-"
"I'll walk you," he interjected, before hesitation, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "What I mean to say is: Would you allow me to walk you to your chambers, My Lady?" he pressed, watching as your lips tipped up into a small smile, the tense line slipping from your shoulders slightly.
"That's very kind of you-"
"Doesn't your bride-to-be look radiant this evening, King Slayer?" Robert interrupted, clapping Jaime on the shoulder as he moved to stand behind the two of you.
Suddenly, the tenseness was back, your entire body rigid, your fists clenched tight, your jaw practically ticking from the pressure.
"Lady Y/N looks beautiful always, Your Grace," Jaime hummed, glancing between you and the King, trying his hardest to make sense of your reaction to his presence.
"Mmm," Robert hummed somewhere deep in his chest. "Pretty as a picture, isn't she?"
"You forget yourself, Your Grace," you bit out, your eyes still turned away from him. "I will forgive the slip in decency this once, but I won't be as forgiving if it continues," you pressed on, watching Jaime's eyes widen slightly at the sharpness in your voice.
It's not like you could blame him. He'd only ever known your sweetness. Your kindness. He had never seen the meaner side of you; he'd never needed to before.
"Y/N-" Robert started softly, his words dropping off when you glanced up at him, your eyes glaring fury straight into his. "It was a compliment."
"I am not talking about that, and you know it," you bit, watching him swallow. "I do not believe it proper or polite to discuss a Lady's wedding night, especially not in front of high-born, titled company," you pressed on. "And I do not appreciate you expressing your jealousy at missing your chance at breaking me in when you were betrothed to my sister."
"Y/N," he began again, his words trailing off as his eyes met yours.
"I'd appreciate it if you were to use my proper titles, Your Grace."
He hesitated for a moment. "My Lady," he finally uttered, watching as you finally got to your feet.
"I'm going to retire to my chambers," you hummed. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Your Grace."
You were out of the Great Hall and halfway down the hall when you heard hurried footsteps behind you.
"My Lady," Jaime started softly, falling into step at your side, his eyes darting to the side to watch you carefully.
"I understand if you want to call off the betrothal, My Lord," you started softly. "I apologise for my outburst, I'm sure it was most unladylike and not what you're used to here in the South, and-"
"Our King is a great pig of a man," he interjected. "And were I aware of the things he had said about you, about us, I likely would have done something that would have gotten me in a lot of trouble with the King's Guards," he confessed quietly. The two of you walked quietly for a moment, listening to the sounds of your feet on the stone floor. "I would be a fool to call off a betrothal to a woman who is so strong-willed and principled, wouldn't I?"
"You would be a fool to marry a woman who would berate the King in front of his court," you corrected quietly, coming to a complete stop and turning to face him fully. "I wouldn't blame you," you added softly. "Southern traditions are different to what we have in the North. I wasn't raised to bite my tongue, I'm awful at keeping my opinion to myself-"
"Good," he interrupted. "I wouldn't want you to keep your thoughts from me. I want to hear what you're thinking. I want to know all of you, not just the bits that are deemed acceptable by high society."
"You'll regret saying that some day," you chuckled lightly, shaking your head.
He shrugged slightly, his smile spreading across his lips. "I don't think I will," he hummed softly. "But, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"
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