Game of Thrones Imagines/Oneshots

VIII. Jamie Lannister (F?)

Summary: a recaptured Jamie Lannister gets to know a healer.

By order of Lady Catelyn Stark, I was supposed to go treat the recent escapee. Normally, this wasn't something expected of us healers. Actually, we were normally supposed to let them suffer the consequences, even if it meant death. I had no idea what was so different this time, even if the man was of a higher social standing.

The situation made me anxious for more reasons than not. For one, I was about to be in the personal space of a murderer. And second, I was about to be treating the King Slayer himself. It was a terrifying thought, but it was also absolutely exhilarating all at once. It felt like an honor for a lowborn to be in the presence of a man who killed a king, or a man who made history in the way that he did. It was a rare occasion, one that I was unlikely to ever experience again.

In my time as a healer, I had met many knights and an almost inconceivable amount of soldiers. Most of the knights were from insignificant houses in the reach, houses I had never heard of in the firsts place. I never bothered to remember the names of the smaller houses, unless one of the knights was particularly handsome, then I might remember his name for a while. To meet someone of Jamie Lannister's social standing was a great honor, even if he was treasonous to the king I bowed to.

I entered the makeshift cell that the king slayer was kept in. He was entirely chained; his wrists, his ankles, his neck. After last night's incident, no one was taking any more risks with him.

"Goodmorn, Ser." I greeted politely. I did not want to risk angering the man that had just killed his own in cold blood, with nothing but his hands and a heavy iron chain. "Lady Stark sent me to treat your wounds."

The knight grunted in response, clearly agitated with the events that had transpired. I couldn't say I blamed him for his sour attitude. I'd be pissed if I had ran off, nearly making my escape only to be dragged back and ruthlessly beaten. As much as I hate to admit it, he had every right to be pissed.

Once I got close enough to examine him properly, I could see just how battered he was. The man looked like he had gotten into a fight with a house cat and lost, his face covered in surface cuts and his own dried blood. His hair was matted, crusted with blood and dirt. Robb's men had done a number on him. They would have killed him had Lady Stark kept her silence and allowed them to. Given the chance, they might've done worse than simply killing him. He should praise the seven that Lady Stark stepped in when she did, otherwise he'd face a fate far worse than what he received.

As I kneeled down in front of the man, I made sure to remain cautious, watching his hands that were resting in his lap. Considering that he was not above killing his own cousin, I was more than a bit nervous for my own wellbeing. A man willing to kill his own family was more than willing to kill a simple healer. The only thing that soothed my growing anxiety was the guard who watched from just a few meters behind.

Jamie Lannister watched me with an equal amount of caution as I began to treat his open wounds. The corner of his mouth twitched when I pressed the wine soaked cloth to his face, a slight look of irritation within his gaze that quickly vanished. He seemed to be tolerant of me, whether for his sake or mine, I wasn't sure. Regardless, he continued to seemingly examine every part of my being while I tried to focus on the task at hand.

"Are you from the Stormlands?" He suddenly asked, looking at me quizzically as if trying to answer his own question before I could myself.

It took a second for me to register his question. It was rare that men guessed correctly about my origins. Usually they would assume that I am a woman of the Reach, sired in some whore in a country side brothel. Life might've been easier if that were the case, but the Gods had always had a cruel sense of humor.