BURNED - Chapter III

Jorah woke up feeling like someone had lacerated his arm open with a knife. He grunted from the pain. He tried to move his arm, but that only sent a sharp bolt of pain through his body. He was hurting everywhere and sweating and breathing with difficulty.
He felt someone washing the sweat from his brow with a fresh, damp piece of cloth. He struggled a moment to open his eyelids, but when he finally managed to identify his surroundings, he recognized his room, with the familiar light stone walls covered in tapestries and the grey ceiling with a crack in the vague shape of a heart tree. Jaime was sitting close to his bed, a wet cloth in his hand and a worried look on his face.

- "Hey there."
- "You shouldn’t talk. That will only tire you. You should rest, sleep if you can."
- "I’ve slept enough already", replied Jorah, though he did feel exhausted.
- "You’re obviously in pain. Maybe you should take more milk of the poppy."
- "Hmpf…"

Jorah casted a look at his own body. He was laying in his bed under a dark green blanket, both his arms resting on his chest on top of the blanket. His right arm was covered in bandages, as well as his left hand. He made a attempt to move his fingers, but grimaced at the pain. He must have been burnt pretty bad. He reported his attention to the man next to him, and noticed that Jaime’s hands were shaking slightly as he was pouring some beverage into a bowl.

- "Jaime? Are you all right?"

The blond man let out a surprised breath.

- "You’re asking me? I’m fine. You’re the one lying in a bed and hurting."
- "Why are you shaking?"

Jaime’s face crumbled and Jorah almost regretted asking, but he really wanted to know what was up with the young Lannister.

- "I’m… I’m sorry", finally admitted Jaime, looking away. "You were hurt because of me."
- "Don’t be. Wasn’t your fault."
- "It was though! We were in the middle of a fight, and… and I let you down. You could have been killed!"

Jorah had never heard so much anguish in Jaime’s voice before, and that made his heart sank.

- "Hush! You did fine. Don’t worry."
- "No! I’m… I was a Kingsguard, I was said to be one of the best swordsman of our time, I’m supposed to be better than that! Even though I’m no good at anything else, the battlefield at least should be the one place where I’m useful! Where I thought I could be useful. But then…"
- "Don’t be stupid! You saved my ass countless times on the battlefield. I’m glad I could return the favor for once, actually. I’d look pretty weak and incompetent if I was always the one in need of some saving."

Jaime looked horrified at his words.

- "No one ever thought you were weak or incompetent!"
- "Well, I’ll believe you, if you believe me when I tell you that all this crap you said about being no good at anything outside the battlefield is nonsense."

The young man replied with a weak smile.

- "I was a Kingsguard but I killed my king. I was the heir of Casterly Rock but I fled my duty and came live far in the North instead. I couldn’t even be a good brother to Cersei and Tyrion. And now I’m failing as a swordsman too… How could you see any worth in me?"

And those words hurt, they hurt even more that the wounds on his arms, because Jaime seemed to really believe he was worthless. And that was the most aberrant and painful thing Jorah had ever heard. How could Jaime not see how precious he was? How his kindness and strength and ravaging smile had affected everyone in the castle in such a good way in the past two years? How he meant everything to Jorah?

- "You’re good to me", he said softly. He searched Jaime’s eyes and looked straight at them, trying to convey everything he felt for the man through his gaze. "I’ve never been more happy than in the past two years, since you’ve started living with me… with us in Bear Island."

They both started to blush, but neither of them looked away. Jorah felt like he could just drown into the deep, luminous green of Jaime’s eyes, and be content forever. There was a tension between them that had not been there before… Or maybe it had always been there but none of them had ever acknowledged it.
Jorah didn’t want to break the moment, but a sudden twinge of pain made him close his eyes and draw a sharp breath. Jaime was immediately applying the damp cloth on his brow again, and he was glad for the bit of coolness it provided.

- "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t keep you awake like this", blurted out the young knight. "Do you want milk of the poppy? The healer said you should sleep if you can."

Jorah would have liked to protest and continue their conversation, but he realized he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyelids open. He accepted to drink the beverage Jaime was giving him, then fell into a restless sleep.


When he woke up, he was freezing.
He had only slept a few hours it seemed. It was just starting to get dark outside. He didn’t feel much more rested than before. The pain wasn’t so bad at the moment, but his limbs were cramped and he had an itch to move them. He knew it would only hurt more, though.
He wasn’t sure why he felt so cold. He was still sweating though. His body must have contracted a fever or something…

He heard a soft, regular breath next to him and realized that Jaime was still by his side, sleeping in his chair. Somehow, Jorah knew that the young knight had not left his side during the whole time he’d been asleep. That thought warmed him inside, even though he felt a bit guilty. He should have told Jaime to leave him and go sleep in a bed. The chair looked pretty uncomfortable. But to be honest he was happy Jaime had stayed. Now he had the opportunity to look at the blond man sleeping face. Jaime looked so relaxed like this. Even with his facial muscles resting and his golden hair all over the place, he looked as beautiful as ever.
Jorah stared at him for long minutes. He wondered if he could have overcome his need to touch and caress the young man’s face, if his arms had not been bandaged and immobilized by the pain. He started imagining his lips caressing Jaime’s cheeks, and mouth, and neck… his hand in the golden hair, mussing them up even more…
His body was definitely warmer now. But he needed to cool down. He couldn’t let Jaime see his raw desire for him. He would probably frighten the young man away.

Though he did blush very prettily earlier. Could he be interested in me, romantically?

Those thoughts were probably just wild hopes, though. He knew Jaime liked him a lot, but romantically? Jorah was eleven years older than Jaime, and he was living in a ragged, dirty castle made more of wood than stone, and that was called « castle » mostly because the Mormont family lived there - not because it looked like a castle in any way. His home was about as rich as he imagined a simple servant’s home would be at Casterly Rock. Maybe even less. And Jaime had been raised to enjoy luxury and beauty in all things. So Jorah didn’t think he had much chance to ever be anything more than a friend to the Lannister. He’d been extremely lucky that the young man had come to live here for two years already. He knew Jaime had come mostly because he wanted to escape King’s Landing and his family.
But Jaime could have gone everywhere, and he had went - and stayed - in Bear Island. That was precious in itself, and Jorah didn’t want to risk scaring the man away.

Jaime’s breath suddenly accelerated, and his body tensed. Jorah could see his muscles contract erratically, even though he was still fast asleep. Then Jaime started to whine.

- "No… no please…", he heard the young man say in his sleep.
- "Jaime? Jaime wake up! You’re having a nightmare…"
- "Please don’t… NO!"
- "Jaime!!"

Jorah moved his left arm and caught Jaime’s hand to shake him and force him awake. The movement sent a bolt of sharp pain through his body but he ignored it.

- "Jaime wake up! Jaime are you alright?"

He felt Jaime’s hand contract around his wounded and bandaged hand - which hurt like hell but he didn’t care at the moment - and finally the young man opened his eyes, startled.

- "Jorah?"
- "Are you ok? It looked like you were having a bad dream…"
- "I’m… I’m fine…"

Jaime shook his head as if to chase away the remnants of his nightmare. He still looked a bit lost for a moment, but then his eyes focused on Jorah’s face, and on Jorah’s hand which he was still clutching hard. As soon as he realized he was probably hurting Jorah, he let go of his hand.

- "Oh! Sorry! Your hand, I didn’t mean… Did I hurt you?"
- "Not at all", lied Jorah. In truth having any sort of contact against his burned hand was agony, but he still felt a bit disappointed that Jaime had stopped holding his hand.

There was an uncomfortable silence after that. Jorah wanted to ask Jaime about his nightmare, but he knew the young man wouldn’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t the first time. When Jaime first arrived on Bear Island two years ago, he was having nightmares almost every night. Jorah wished he had known what they were about and how he could help in any way, but Jaime had just kept saying it was nothing to worry about. The nightmares had become more and more rare with time though, and he didn’t think Jaime had had nightmares in months, now. Somehow it had happened again today though. Something must have triggered it. Jorah thought it could have been the fire that alighted on his arm… Jaime was always avoiding fires. When he first arrived in the castle, he had refused to have a fire in his room for almost a year, preferring to have a pile of blankets instead to keep him warm at night. After a while it looked like he had come to terms with whatever that was (a phobia of fire?) though, and had been a bit more comfortable around flames, but he was never quite relaxed around them either.

Maybe seeing flames eating my arm have revived painful memories. I wonder if he was ever burned himself?

He wished he could see Jaime’s naked body to check for any sign of old injuries, but then the thought of Jaime naked triggered very different thoughts in his mind, and he had to close his eyes and force himself to calm down. Now really wasn’t the moment to have fantasies about Jaime.

- "Your cousin Dacey visited, a bit earlier. The healer, too, he changed your bandages while you were asleep."
- "Did you stay here the whole time?", asked Jorah even though he guessed the answer.
- "Well… yes", confirmed Jaime, blushing as he said it.

There was a silence again, then Jaime questioned him:

- "Are you in pain right now? Do you need anything?"
- "I’m freezing", admitted Jorah.
- "Oh! Right. Wait, I’ll just start a fire and… ah…"

Even as he said it, Jaime turned his eyes towards the hearthstone, and stopped in mid-sentence. He hesitated, then got up and made two slow steps towards the hearthstone, the stopped again.

- "Right. Yes. Let’s do that…", said Jaime as if to convince himself.
- "Wait, Jaime. Actually, I don’t think I want a fire right now."
- "No?", asked Jaime in a strange, high-pit voice. "You’re sure?"
- "Definitely. I’ve seen enough flames for today." The lie was easy to tell if it could make Jaime more comfortable.
- "Oh. Yes. Of course. Whatever you prefer then", replied Jaime, obviously relieved. "Do you want me to fetch more blankets, then?"
- "Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to be my bed-warmer?"

The words had escaped his lips before he could stop them. He saw Jaime tense and regretted letting them out immediately.
So much for trying not to scare Jaime!

- "Just joking of course. You don’t have to do that", he tried to amend himself.
- "Ah well… actually… I wouldn’t mind… you know… if you wanted me to?", blurted out Jaime in a strange voice. His face was as red as his perfect lips.

Jorah was so shocked he was at a loss of what to say. He just stared stupidly at Jaime, unable to form an answer. He must have stayed too long without speaking because Jaime looked clearly distressed now, and started to walk towards the door.

- "Sorry. That was a stupid idea, of course. I’ll find some blankets", said Jaime very quickly.
- "No, wait!"

Jaime froze in place, still looking towards the door.

- "You… you’re welcome to come. This bed is way too big anyway. It’s always cold no matter how many blankets I have."

Jorah tried to convince himself that his proposition was purely platonic, but he knew it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been when Jaime had proposed, either. Bedwarmers were a common practice about everywhere in Westeros, but only for women and young children. For some unknown reason, it wasn’t something grown men usually did. So when two men were found in the same bed, no one ever believed it was just to keep warm. There was always more. Jaime knew that too, everyone did.

Still, the young knight hesitated only a few more seconds before he walked back to Jorah’s side. He quickly removed his boots and shirt and before Jorah could fully realize what was happening, Jaime was lying next to him, just a few centimeters from him. They were almost touching.
Jaime turned to face him, moving very slowly, making sure he wasn’t touching any of Jorah’s wounds. They stared into each other’s eyes. Jorah didn’t feel cold at all anymore. Rather like his body was on fire - but on a right, pleasant way this time, not literally.

- "Alright. Now sleep", commanded Jaime. "You need the rest."
- "Sure", he answered, even though he couldn’t imagining ever being able to fall asleep with Jaime lying half-naked in his bed. His mind was hyperactive right now, providing him with hundreds of images of what he wished he could do. There was no way he could fall asleep. He needed to stay awake so he could remember every second of this moment.

- "Is the blanket ok?", he suddenly asked, worried. "It’s not to rough for you? I could go find a better one…"
Jaime gazed wide-eyed at him.
- "What in the Seven Hells are you taking about? The blanket is fine."
- "Oh. Ok. Forget what I said, it was stupid."

The truth was, ever since Jaime had come live in the castle, Jorah had been obsessed with getting him the finest things he could find, so he would be comfortable. Jaime had been used to luxury in Casterly Rock and in the capital, and Jorah had been afraid that the poor equipments they had here in Bear Island would repel the young knight. Jaime knew nothing of it of course, but Jorah had actually given all his best, softest blankets and furs to Jaime when he had arrived. Keeping only rugged ones for himself. He had even wanted to buy some silk sheets, persuaded that was the only fabric worthy enough to be in contact with Jaime’s fair skin, but his aunt Maege had just laughed at him, and he’d had to give up on the idea. Jaime had never complained about the coarse fabric of his blankets and clothes though, but Jorah was secretly scared that was only because he was too polite to say anything. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask, in fear Jaime would admit that the rough northern lifestyle didn’t suit him.

- "Just go to sleep", commanded Jaime again, unaware of Jorah’s musing.

And even though Jorah tried to resist and to stay awake to enjoy Jaime’s presence at his side, he was fast asleep in less than a minute.