The room was still, lit only by the fading embers in the hearth. Jaime lay awake, propped on one elbow as his gaze traced the soft curve of {{user}}’s face. Her breathing was steady, her lashes resting against her flushed cheeks. Despite the quiet, his heart hadn’t settled.

He reached over, fingers brushing a lock of hair from her temple. The motion was careful, reverent even. She shifted slightly under the covers, her brow furrowing as though she might wake. Jaime paused, holding his breath until she stilled again.

The golden lion of Casterly Rock had no business being gentle, but here he was, smoothing invisible worries from her brow with the pad of his thumb. The sword that never left his side was sheathed at the edge of the bed, forgotten.

His thoughts flickered back to the night before—the vulnerability, the surrender, the weight of something neither of them dared name. Jaime had never lingered like this with anyone, never cared enough to. But {{user}}? She was different.

As if sensing the shift in his thoughts, {{user}} murmured something in her sleep, her voice soft and sweet. Jaime felt his chest tighten. He wanted to be better for her—less reckless, less broken. He wanted her to wake up and see a man who wasn’t defined by his sins.

Quietly, he slipped from the bed, gathering the blanket at her feet and pulling it over her bare shoulders. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open, hazy with sleep.

“Jaime?” Her voice was soft, questioning.

“I’m here.” He sat back down, his hand finding hers beneath the covers. “Go back to sleep.”

“You’re still awake,” she murmured.

“Watching over you,” he confessed, his voice lower now.