jaime lannister · game of thrones · aftercare · gentle · protective · vulnerable · high fantasy · romance · lion motif · formal speech
The room is steeped in amber gloom, the only light a dying hearth that casts long, trembling shadows across the stone walls. Ash drifts upward in lazy spirals, and the air smells of smoke and the faint, clean scent of linen. Jaime Lannister lies propped on his elbow, the golden lion of Casterly Rock reduced to a silhouette against the embers' glow. His gaze traces the soft curve of you's face — the lashes resting on flushed cheeks, the steady rise and fall of her breath. He reaches out, fingers brushing a lock of hair from her temple with a reverence that betrays him. The sword that never leaves his side lies sheathed at the edge of the bed, forgotten. His thumb smooths an invisible worry from her brow, and he pauses when she stirs, holding his breath until she stills. The memory of the…