Fic: Love and Beauty
Title: Love and Beauty
Author: MrsTater
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters & Pairings: Jorah Mormont/Lynesse Hightower, Leyla Hightower, Humphrey Hightower, Jaime Lannister
Ratings & Warnings: PG for tournament violence
Format & Word Count: one-shot, 719 words
Summary: Lynesse dreams of lions at the Tournament at Lannisport, but her knight in shining armor turns out to be a bear. [pre-series]
Author's Note: Written for polkadotsnplaid as part of the Minor Character Ficathon. She requested Lynesse Hightower and the prompt, "I called for a knight, but I only got a bear."
Love and Beauty
She watches Ser Jaime across the tilting yard, so beautiful and so aloof and so golden as he stands at the edge of his pavilion, tugging on his gauntlets. Not his Kingsguard whites today, but gleaming red and gilt plate, which make it so easy for Lynesse to forget that he's sworn to take no wife and father no children, and to lean her chin upon her hand and sigh as she imagines the Lion of Lannister riding across to her, crowning her with his victor's laurels--for win, he surely shall--crowning her his Queen of Love and Beauty.
But the dreamy sigh becomes a sound of dismay as Ser Jaime is obscured from view by a big brute with a bald head--but a rather hardy beard--clopping along on his destrier.
"That's Lord Jorah Mormont of Bear Island," says her brother Humphrey, beside her.
At her other side, her sister Leyla giggles, the tips of her manicured fingernails digging into the back of her hand as she grips it, suddenly. "Lyn! He's staring straight at you!"
"Typical," Lynesse mutters, craning her neck for a glimpse of Ser Jaime around the big knight, but he only looms larger with his approach, and a sudden gust of breeze catches his green cloak, unfurling it to reveal the prancing bear sigil of his House. "I ask for a knight, and I'm given a bear."
Leyla titters, and Humphrey shushes her. "He was a hero of Pyke, one of the first through the breech. Though I'll grant you," he concedes, a smirk winning control of his lips, "he's no tourney knight. Nor a handsome one."
"I'd sooner dance with a real bear," says Lynesse through her teeth, bared in a smile as Lord Mormont reins in his horse.
"My lady," he says, gruffly. As a bear would. "I'm told you are Lord Leyton Hightower's daughter, Lady Lynesse, but when I saw you across the yard, I thought you were the Maiden herself, descended to earth."
A flush prickles up from the neckline of Lynesse's gown of red silk--chosen especially in honor of Ser Jaime--and her mouth goes dry, her voice a little husky as she replies, "Handsome words, my lord." For an unhandsome man.
Or is he so unhandsome as first she thought? Certainly he is going bald, and he must be twice her own age. But his smile is gentle and his eyes full of warmth and…want.
And he is a lord.
Lynesse reaches into her pocket and draws out her embroidered handkerchief, which she holds out to him. "My favor, ser."
Lord Mormont's teeth are very white against the dark of his beard as his grin stretches. "I shall strive to return it to you unbloodied, my lady," he says, knotting it around his arm.
If only he knew the blood is what she likes best, she thinks with another sigh, as he rides off to enter the lists. She likes to watch men bleed as much as she's heard Ser Jaime likes to make them bleed.
Though today it's not the Lion of Lannister who ravages the jousting field, but the bear. Lord Jason Mallister, Lord Yohn Royce, Ser Ryman Frey, Ser Hosteen Frey, Lord Whent, Ser Lyle Crakehall, Ser Boros Blount--all unhorsed, their blood spattering her favor.
"Not a tourney knight, you say?" she shouts to a bemused Humphrey above the roar of the crowd, which rises to a fever pitch as Lord Mormont breaks one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine lances against Ser Jaime, before he is named--looking a little dazed--victor, and she his Queen of Love and Beauty.
"I'm afraid I return it a little bloodied after all," he says, after he has placed the wreath of roses atop her golden curls, glancing down at the handkerchief still knotted around his arm.
"Keep it," says Lynesse, "and favor me with a dance at the feast, instead. Bears do dance, don't they?"
She glances at Ser Jaime, stalking into his pavilion and flinging his gauntlets at the feet of his sister the queen, who awaits him there.
"They do indeed, my lady," Lord Mormont's voice draws her attention back to the smile that is, she thinks, as winning as today's jousting. "And a deal better than lions."
Author: MrsTater
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters & Pairings: Jorah Mormont/Lynesse Hightower, Leyla Hightower, Humphrey Hightower, Jaime Lannister
Ratings & Warnings: PG for tournament violence
Format & Word Count: one-shot, 719 words
Summary: Lynesse dreams of lions at the Tournament at Lannisport, but her knight in shining armor turns out to be a bear. [pre-series]
Author's Note: Written for polkadotsnplaid as part of the Minor Character Ficathon. She requested Lynesse Hightower and the prompt, "I called for a knight, but I only got a bear."
Love and Beauty
She watches Ser Jaime across the tilting yard, so beautiful and so aloof and so golden as he stands at the edge of his pavilion, tugging on his gauntlets. Not his Kingsguard whites today, but gleaming red and gilt plate, which make it so easy for Lynesse to forget that he's sworn to take no wife and father no children, and to lean her chin upon her hand and sigh as she imagines the Lion of Lannister riding across to her, crowning her with his victor's laurels--for win, he surely shall--crowning her his Queen of Love and Beauty.
But the dreamy sigh becomes a sound of dismay as Ser Jaime is obscured from view by a big brute with a bald head--but a rather hardy beard--clopping along on his destrier.
"That's Lord Jorah Mormont of Bear Island," says her brother Humphrey, beside her.
At her other side, her sister Leyla giggles, the tips of her manicured fingernails digging into the back of her hand as she grips it, suddenly. "Lyn! He's staring straight at you!"
"Typical," Lynesse mutters, craning her neck for a glimpse of Ser Jaime around the big knight, but he only looms larger with his approach, and a sudden gust of breeze catches his green cloak, unfurling it to reveal the prancing bear sigil of his House. "I ask for a knight, and I'm given a bear."
Leyla titters, and Humphrey shushes her. "He was a hero of Pyke, one of the first through the breech. Though I'll grant you," he concedes, a smirk winning control of his lips, "he's no tourney knight. Nor a handsome one."
"I'd sooner dance with a real bear," says Lynesse through her teeth, bared in a smile as Lord Mormont reins in his horse.
"My lady," he says, gruffly. As a bear would. "I'm told you are Lord Leyton Hightower's daughter, Lady Lynesse, but when I saw you across the yard, I thought you were the Maiden herself, descended to earth."
A flush prickles up from the neckline of Lynesse's gown of red silk--chosen especially in honor of Ser Jaime--and her mouth goes dry, her voice a little husky as she replies, "Handsome words, my lord." For an unhandsome man.
Or is he so unhandsome as first she thought? Certainly he is going bald, and he must be twice her own age. But his smile is gentle and his eyes full of warmth and…want.
And he is a lord.
Lynesse reaches into her pocket and draws out her embroidered handkerchief, which she holds out to him. "My favor, ser."
Lord Mormont's teeth are very white against the dark of his beard as his grin stretches. "I shall strive to return it to you unbloodied, my lady," he says, knotting it around his arm.
If only he knew the blood is what she likes best, she thinks with another sigh, as he rides off to enter the lists. She likes to watch men bleed as much as she's heard Ser Jaime likes to make them bleed.
Though today it's not the Lion of Lannister who ravages the jousting field, but the bear. Lord Jason Mallister, Lord Yohn Royce, Ser Ryman Frey, Ser Hosteen Frey, Lord Whent, Ser Lyle Crakehall, Ser Boros Blount--all unhorsed, their blood spattering her favor.
"Not a tourney knight, you say?" she shouts to a bemused Humphrey above the roar of the crowd, which rises to a fever pitch as Lord Mormont breaks one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine lances against Ser Jaime, before he is named--looking a little dazed--victor, and she his Queen of Love and Beauty.
"I'm afraid I return it a little bloodied after all," he says, after he has placed the wreath of roses atop her golden curls, glancing down at the handkerchief still knotted around his arm.
"Keep it," says Lynesse, "and favor me with a dance at the feast, instead. Bears do dance, don't they?"
She glances at Ser Jaime, stalking into his pavilion and flinging his gauntlets at the feet of his sister the queen, who awaits him there.
"They do indeed, my lady," Lord Mormont's voice draws her attention back to the smile that is, she thinks, as winning as today's jousting. "And a deal better than lions."