The Long Winter | Jaime Lannister X Stark OC | GOT/ASOIAF

White Cloaks And Lies

Ross had been visiting King's Landing when Jon Arryn died. For a woman who hated the place, she seemed to spend rather a lot of time there. 

The stay in the city had almost been bearable at first; she had got to see her eldest son for the first time in two years, since he last visited the North aged thirteen. And also, Jaime seemed to have gone off Cersei for good. She had had her doubts when he first told her at Riverrun, which had faded the last time she came south for Joffrey's named tourney, but now... she was almost certain.

The king was somewhat fatter than before. Apart from that, Robert was the same as ever - loud, brash and as a rule, drunk - and it was always pleasant to see crowned stag sigils in the places where three-headed dragons had once been. 

But then the Hand of the King, her brother's foster-father, had died suddenly, apparently of an illness, and the whole court was plunged into mourning. Supposedly. Ross was sure none of them gave a shit, really, except those who had known the hand well; they just kept up appearances. Even Arryn's wife didn't seem to care much. But Lysa had always been rather irritating. Ross was glad when she left in the middle of the night to return to the Eyrie.

Robert - one of the few to genuinely grieve for the man - had ranted and raged at Jon Arryn's death, before someone reminded him that he needed a new Hand. 

Ross had said nothing, she would swear to anyone. Robert had had the idea of upending half the court and dragging them all up to Winterfell completely on his own. The disgruntled members of the group muttered where they thought she couldn't hear about how Lord Stark's sister had whispered in the king's ear and persuaded him to make her brother his Hand. 

She had caught several saying that instead of whispers, she must have slept with Robert instead. One man had even dared to voice his suspicions on how Arryn happened to die at the same time Ross was in the south, how convenient it was that her brother was to become Hand straight after. She hadn't been able to let that one go, and had taken the man aside and told him in no uncertain terms exactly what she thought of that theory of his.

Of course, as the entire royal family was heading north, that meant Jaime was too.

The clang of steel echoed through the forest, disturbing the peaceful morning. Two people were sparring, a grim faced woman armed with a long, lethal looking dagger and a golden haired man bearing a sword, faces dappled with the dawn sunlight where it streamed down between the leaves. 

They were far enough away from everyone else that their scuffle wouldn't be heard, and though it was evident that the man was far more skilled than the woman - his natural, effortless grace with a sword was impossible to beat, especially with the reach the weapon gave him over the dagger - her ferocious, calculated defence and dodges were a worthy challenge. 

That was the point; defence. The dagger would never hold out against any sword for long, shown as he knocked the dagger out of her hand. His sword was at her throat in one smooth move, stopping her halfway from dropping to the floor to retrieve it.

"Dead," Jaime's tone was bored, which they both knew was false. The smugness was real though. 

Ross raised an eyebrow.

"I'm getting better," 

He lowered his sword as Ross went to retrieve the dagger, eyeing her critically.

"You'd be better off learning to use a sword," He nodded at the knife which she now held in her hands. "That'll only work if they don't see it coming. You'd need to surprise them,"