AS THE BURNS FADE
Raven winced as the old maester reapplied ointment to her burns. It was an interesting mixture, painful at first and then relieving. Her burns were healing fast, as always. Maester Luwin used to joke that it was her Targaryen blood, but Raven always put it down to Luwin's brilliant medicine.
"There," Luwin announced when he was done. Raven chewed on her lower lip, anxiously waiting for the stinging sensation to subside and the relief to kick in. Noticing her expression, Luwin gave her a pitiful look. "It's a different mixture, I'm afraid. More effective, but more painful."
"What happened to the old ointment?" Raven asked, high pitched and indignant.
"I found this one to be more effective, as I said," Luwin informed, giving her a kind smile.
She narrowed her eyes accusingly at Luwin and pouted. "You're doing this to punish me, aren't you? For going near the cannon again?"
"No, child. I am doing this to heal your burns at a faster rate." Just then, a small and teasing smirk appeared on Luwin's face. "The punishing part is simply a bonus."
"Knew it," Raven mumbled grumpily.
"Maybe next time you'll be less willing to get yourself burned," Luwin stated with a pointed look of disapproval.
"No, no. You've got it all wrong, Luwin. I've never willingly burned myself, it's just-"
"A necessary evil. Yes, yes, I've heard this before," Luwin finished, a small, fond smile on his face.
Another person entered her room without knocking. Raven's mouth tightened in annoyance. What happened to privacy? Jon was standing at the end of her bed, a jug of water in his hand.
"How are you feeling?" Jon asked, frowning.
"Good as new," Raven responded, a large smile on her lips. Her response seemed to brighten Jon's mood as he too was now smiling.
Luwin looked between them, a strange expression on his face. One caught half-way between curiosity and disapproval. "Right. I'll leave you two. Remember to put on that ointment twice more before nightfall." Raven threw back her head and groaned, but the old maester was obstinate. "I mean it, Raven. If you don't, your burns will get infected."
"I get it, I get it. Don't worry, I'll put on the stupid ointment," Raven assured. Maester Luwin was still unsure and tilted his head to the side, brows furrowed, as he surveyed her for any sign of dishonesty. Raven sighed. "I promise."
"I'm trusting you," Luwin said in a warning tone.
"Good, you should," was all Raven said.
A doubtful, worried expression on his face, he turned to face Jon and patted him on the shoulder. "Make sure she puts on that ointment, won't you?"
"Of course I will," Jon replied, a small smile on his face as the old maester left the room. He sat on the stool beside Raven's bed and poured her a glass of water.
"He doesn't trust me."
"You don't give him much reason to," Jon pointed out.
Raven scoffed and took a sip of water. "I want to get better, of course I'm going to do what he tells me."
"Well, when you keep putting yourself in this situation..." Raven shot him an angry, warning look which made Jon sigh and reconsider his wording. "You're not the best at doing what you're told when it comes to your well-being. You're not careful with yourself."
"I'm careful enough." Despite herself, she smirked at him, which only served to make Jon a little madder. "I haven't blown myself up yet."
"Out of sheer luck!"
"I call it skill," Raven countered, her smirk growing wider. Seeing that their discussion would soon escalate into an argument, Raven decided to change the subject. "How was the royal feast last night?"
Jon's face darkened into a frown. Raven immediately regretted her choice of a conversation-starter. "Uneventful, I suppose. The king got drunk and started groping a kitchen maid. The queen wasn't too happy."
"Of course she wouldn't be," she replied thoughtfully. She'd never thought of Cersei Lannister as someone to be sorry for, but it must have been hard for the queen, as prideful as she was, to have to sit through her husband's shameless philandering.
"You'd think she'd have gotten used to it by now."
She hummed in thought. "I don't think that's something you can get used to."
Even though she was product of promiscuity, Raven was still disgusted by adultery. She didn't understand how a man could do that to his wife and then expect utter devotion in return. It was one of the reasons she was reluctant to ever marry.
"Did you enjoy the feast?" Raven asked the only question she could think of, if only to break the awkward silence.
"Lady Stark had me sitting at the back," Jon almost snarled. Again, Raven regretted using the feast to change the subject.
"Why would she do that?"
"She wanted to keep me far away from the king and queen so I couldn't offend them." He really was snarling this time. Raven was a little startled. She didn't expect to make him this upset. Jon scoffed. "I don't see how I can offend the king, anyway. He has enough of his own bastards." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Jon looked up at Raven regretfully. "Sorry."
Raven waved her hand dismissively and gave him a lazy smile. "Don't worry about it. Here, have a lemoncake." She picked up the plate of lemoncakes on her beside locker and offered them to Jon. It did nothing to cheer him up, as Raven had hoped, but Jon accepted one nonetheless.
"So Sansa finally visited you," Jon surmised as he took a bite.
She managed a muffled scoff as she stuffed a lemoncake into her mouth. "I wouldn't even call it a visit. More like a rushed delivery. The queen gave her lemoncakes to give to me."
Jon's mouth fell open wide. "The queen?"
"I was surprised too," Raven admitted and went to nibble on her lemoncake again, but Jon shot up from his seat and slapped the lemoncake out of her hand. Raven looked up at him with shocked eyes, her hand remaining in the same position. "Why did you do that?!"
"She's poisoned them!" Jon exclaimed dramatically. Raven tried to resist rolling her eyes, she really did, but the urge was too strong and before she knew it her eyes had looked up to the ceiling and back. "Don't roll your eyes, it's entirely possible!"
"Oh, don't be so dramatic," she sighed, choosing to lie down again. She was suddenly feeling very tired, though she tried to hide it. Aware of Jon's scrutinising stare, she forced her eyes open and joined the conversation again. "Look, I know the queen is more than capable of poisoning me. She's malicious, yes, but I don't think she's stupid. If I was to coincidentally die a few days after she arrived, wouldn't it look suspicious?"
"So two minutes staring at her through a window and you now know all Queen Cersei's strengths and weaknesses?"
Raven inhaled a sharp, irritated breath and looked away from Jon in an attempt to quell her rising anger. Her temper was the only thing she even considered inheriting from her father bar her looks. It was even in their words – 'ours is the fury.' "No, I never said that! Stop chastising me."
"I will when you stop needing me to," Jon argued. Despite herself, she let out a small laugh and smiled fondly at Jon, causing him to furrow his eyebrows in confusion. "What is it?"
The blacksmith laughed again. "Oh, nothing," she dismissed with a short, dismissive wave.
Silently, she wished that things would never change. That Jon would always take care of her, even when she didn't think she needed it.
"How are you? Are you feeling dizzy? Light-headed? Do you need to sit down? There's a bench right here-"
"I think you need to sit down, actually. You're looking a little pale, Snow," Raven retorted gleefully as she slowly walked into the courtyard with Jon's arm around her waist for support.
It was the first time she'd been outside in over a week. Nothing felt so good as the sun beating down on her head, especially after being holed inside a dark room for so long. She heard the familiar sound of a hammer clashing against steel and turned her head to find Mikken in the smithy. Just as she was about to walk over to him, another spell of drowsiness overtook her. She fell backwards and would have hit the ground if it wasn't for Jon's arm around her waist.
Sending her a stern look that commanded no arguments, Jon walked her over towards the bench. "You need to pace yourself, Raven," he said once she was sitting down. She brought her head closer to her knees and buried her face in her hands. "How are you feeling now?"
"Good to go," she grumbled into her hands.
Even though he was mildly irritated, Jon had to laugh. Just by looking at her anyone would know that she was not, in fact, 'good to go.' "I'm going to get the wheelchair."
"Don't you dare," she threatened, glaring at him with such intensity that he immediately stopped in his tracks. "There is no way I am getting into a wheelchair."
"How are you going to get inside then?" he asked.
"I'm going to walk," she said slowly, as if he was a half-wit.
Jon groaned and pinched his nose. This time he was very irritated. "Raven, you're not being reasonable."
"I'm not getting into a fucking wheelchair and that's that," she exclaimed, her voice loud and firm. Her anger quickly dissipated and her shoulders fell in response. She sighed and directed her eyes to the ground. "It's humiliating," she said quietly.
As much as he tried to tell himself that it was all her fault, that she got herself into this situation by being so reckless, Jon loathed having to see her so down. The Bastard of Winterfell sighed and offered her his hand. Raven looked up at him in surprise.
"You're going to be the death of me, Raven Rivers. Now come on. Let's get you inside."
Raven took his hand, giving him a grateful look as he helped her up. She hated being so helpless and weak. Being in this state nearly made her swear that she'd never go near the cannon again, but her desire for knowledge and greatness was too great to ever commit to that.
When they reached her room, Jon helped her sit into a chair and sat in the one next to her. They sat in silence for a while until Raven spoke first.
"Thank you," was all the bastard girl said.
Jon smiled. "You'd do the same for me," the bastard boy said in response.
It took her a few more days to get up and running again, but once she could walk to the courtyard and back without wanting to fall to the ground and sleep, Raven decided that it was time to start working again. Maester Luwin and everyone else disagreed, but Raven was never good at doing what she was told.
Raven considered that her decision was the wrong one when she nearly passed out due to the heat of the smithy, but she would never admit that to anyone. Especially not Jon. She had chosen to be stubborn and headstrong, and so admitting that Maester Luwin was right when she had disobeyed him was most certainly not a possibility.
That night, she walked to her room covered in her usual layer of soot and sweat. Every now and then, she would receive disapproving looks from some of the southern ladies that had come from King's Landing. Raven was beyond caring what anyone thought of her. No matter what she decided to become – a fine lady, a warrior, a blacksmith – the prudish, highborn people of Westeros would disapprove. Raven had learned that long ago.
She was beginning to feel a little dizzy. Her wounds hadn't fully healed yet and Maester Luwin was giving her medicine and ointments that made her feel weak and tired. He said that it would take another week for her to be fully healed and be able to function without medicine or ointment. Raven said that she couldn't wait that long.
Knowing that she would pass out if she continued to walk, Raven leaned against a wall and wiped the sweat off her forehead. She shut her eyes, sleep threatening to take her. They snapped open in alarm when she heard loud footsteps approaching.
In the dim candle light, she saw a mane of golden hair, its owner dressed in golden armour and a white cloak. Raven knew who it was. One would have to be either foreign or a simpleton to not recognise the hair and the cloak.
"Ah, Raven Rivers, isn't it?" the voice of the Kingslayer drawled. Up close, she could see his handsome features twist into a smirk.
She tried to straighten up and seem less fragile, but Raven could still feel herself swaying. "Jaime Lannister, isn't it?" Raven mimicked. They both knew full well who the other was. Jaime was the most notorious knight in all Seven Kingdoms and Raven was sure the queen had told her brother all about the king's bastard daughter living in Winterfell.
"Indeed," Jaime smirked at her. "You know, my lady-"
"I'm not a lady, ser." Raven smirked back up at him, for some reason seeming smug. "I'm a bastard."
The Kingslayer actually laughed. It was humourless laugh, filled with mocking. "My apologies. Though you hardly expected me to title you bastard?"
Raven shrugged. "That's what I am. I am a bastard as you are a Kingslayer, correct? People whisper bastard behind my back as they whisper Kingslayer behind yours."
"That doesn't mean we like to hear it," Jaime stated, his smirk gone. Raven had noticed how he winced when she called him 'Kingslayer.' It almost made her feel sorry for him. Almost.
"No, it doesn't," Raven agreed. She had nothing else to say. Her eyes scanned the Kingslayer's face for any sign of the vulnerability she had seen before, but it had all but disappeared and his smirk was planted on his face once again.
"You know," Jaime started again a few seconds after the conversation had quieted, attempting to say what he had wanted to say before. "I am curious, as to how the bastard daughter of Robert Baratheon managed to become a blacksmith of Winterfell. It isn't the most...traditional pursuit for a young lady- woman." The Kingslayer smirked at her as he corrected his 'mistake,' though Raven reckoned that it was on purpose.
"Tradition never applied to me. I did what I wanted to do and I was good at it. That's the story. It's not a very interesting one," Raven told him. She didn't mention that she had to beg Lord Stark and argue with his wife over becoming a blacksmith. Raven had never raised her voice to either Lord or Lady Stark before, and she had hated herself for it.
"But that's not the full story, is it?" Jaime said, his smirk only growing on his face. Raven wondered if his sister had put him up to this.
"What do you mean, ser?" she asked, head tilted to the side.
"My sister wishes to send her prayers to you, that you make a full recovery." There was no doubt now that the queen had sent him to intimidate her. Raven stood up a little straighter and put on a hard face. Fake sympathy was etched on the Kingslayer's face. "Those cannons you play with are tricky things, aren't they? This is the third time this has happened to you? Fourth?"
"Third," Raven replied, glaring at the Kingslayer. "How did you know?"
"Your servants are very chatty," Jaime taunted.
"So the great Jaime Lannister listens to the gossip of serving girls," Raven snarled without knowing it. Even though she hated to admit it, Jaime was making her feel small and stupid. Raven had never felt stupid. Small, perhaps, but never stupid.
"Only when it's true. I'd stay away from those cannons if I were you. You might not be so lucky next time," Jaime warned.
"I'll bare that in mind," Raven said, nostrils flaring. Deciding that if she stayed any longer she'd end up hitting the Kingslayer (and probably breaking her fist in the process), Raven took his lack of response as an opportunity to put an end to the conversation. "Goodnight, ser."
Again, the Kingslayer smirked. Raven wanted to see him falter once more, as he had when she called him 'kingslayer,' but she didn't want to create bad blood between herself and the man who was probably the best fighter in Westeros.
"Goodnight, Rivers."
The next time she had the misfortune of meeting another Lannister sibling, it wasn't quite so unfortunate. Lord Tyrion Lannister was the bookish sort, with a quick wit and a fondness for wine. She shouldn't have been surprised to find him in Winterfell's library, but yet when she saw him in the library behind a book the size of his head, Raven had watched him silently, and not so discretely, for quite some time. The last time she spoke with a Lannister, she ended up feeling small. She hated being intimidated, and feared that Lord Tyrion would do the same. Despite her sharp words and stubborn strength, Raven was a sensitive soul.
"Contrary to popular belief, I do not bite."
Raven jumped slightly and dropped the book she held in her hand. She bent down to pick up the book, and as she rose she noticed Lord Tyrion was staring at her with some odd kind of amusement. Raven felt her face redden.
"Never seen a dwarf before, I presume? We are fascinating creatures," Tyrion stated, a grin on his lips. He seemed a lot more friendlier than his brother which comforted Raven.
"I'm sure that you are. But I wasn't... because you are a dwarf. I was only... curious. You seem so different from your siblings," Raven admitted, sitting down on the seat next to Lord Tyrion.
The dwarf smiled. "Which one did you speak with? Jaime or Cersei?"
Raven sighed and slouched in her chair, arms folded over her chest. "Ser Jaime."
"Then you got off lightly," Tyrion declared. Raven raised her eyebrows. That was lightly? Lord Tyrion sighed. "My brother is arrogant, sarcastic and cold, but Cersei... Cersei will be your worst nightmare. You are, after all, her husband's bastard." Tyrion regarded the young blacksmith with keen eyes, as though he expected her to react unfavourably to what he had called her. The dwarf looked impressed. "Good. You know what you are. Most people would become angry or sullen when their bastardy is spoken of. Jon Snow is still denying it."
"How do you know that?" What she really meant was, since when had you and Jon even talked?
"Because he's miserable and overly sensitive," Tyrion replied. He stared at Raven again, becoming lost in thought. "Be careful with Cersei. One slight and she'll be wishing for your head forever."
"She's already wishing for my head," Raven mused, remembering the hate and disdain Cersei Lannister's eyes had held the day they arrived in Winterfell.
Tyrion hummed thoughtfully, but Raven could tell he agreed with her. The Imp closed the book he was ready and stood, placing the large book which was as big as his torso under his arm. "Keep reading, Rivers. I hear you have the mind of a great inventor."
"I'm trying to," Raven muttered. For some reason, she felt able to reveal her worries to someone. Surprisingly, that person was a Lannister. "All it's given me is burns and sickness."
The dwarf smiled sadly. "All the greatest chemists and inventors have made sacrifices. Some have lost limbs, some have killed their own family members by accident, some have failed and embarrassed themselves terribly."
"This is very disheartening," Raven wryly admitted.
"But some... some have succeeded and their names will be remembered forever," Tyrion continued, a kind smile on his lips. "What a pity it would be for that brilliant mind of yours to go to waste because of something so simple as fear."
Author's Note: So, so sorry for the 2 month long wait. Something terrible happened in my life that prevented me from updating my stories as much as I would have liked. I won't bore you with any details. Anyway, back to this chapter. Hopefully Tyrion and Jaime were in character. They're such complex and witty characters that I often worry I'm writing them out of character. Also, if any of you use Tumblr I made a fanfiction/writing account lately where I'll be posting edits for my story. The link is on my profile. Let me know what you think!