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ddagent · 3 years

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Hiii if hot Instagram dad Jaime maybe decided he wanted to do some fun maiden day activities to post onto his account and dragged long suffering Brienne into it, I would love that. (I will die for that universe)

Thank you so much for the prompt, Anon! This is not *quite* what you asked for; consider it a mild reboot of the insta!dad Jaime ‘verse. I hope you enjoy it all the same.

“This is a passenger announcement. Flight 8OATH7 to Storm’s End is delayed. Please check the departures board for further information.”

Brienne let out an almighty groan that was shared between her and the other passengers wanting to leave Braavos. A quick glance to the departures board showed that the two-minute adjustment in departure time had now extended a full two hours. Several of her fellow passengers headed off to the bar or duty-free shops. Brienne just slumped into her seat. At least it wasn’t Sevenmas she was missing. Just Maiden’s Day.

Oh, but she was really looking forward to spending Maiden’s Day with Jaime.

Slipping her phone out of her pocket, Brienne scrolled to Home and pressed the call button. After a few rings, a confident little voice answered. “Lannister-Tarth residence. This is Catelyn speaking. Who are you?”

Brienne felt herself beaming at her eldest daughter’s phone manner. “Cat, it’s Mummy. Is Daddy around?”

“Mummy! When are you coming back? We miss you!”

“I miss you too, Little Lion. I’ll be home soon. Can you put Daddy on?”

“Sure.”

There was a clunk, then a long pause, before Jaime came on the phone. Excited babbles came over the line, and Brienne could just envision Jaime in their foyer at Evenfall, holding their youngest in his arms. “Hey. Everything okay?”

“Not great. I’m stuck in Braavos; there’s not a flight out for at least two hours. I don’t think I’m going to get home today.”

“It’s okay, Brienne. We can celebrate Maiden’s Day tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Ending the call, Brienne settled back into the uncomfortable plastic seat made for a person at least a foot shorter than her. The other passengers were on their phones, playing games such as Angry Dragons or Game of Tarts; more than a few were scrolling through social media. Brienne followed suit. She opened up her ravenmail account and replied to a few emails; the university wanting an update on her latest findings. Unfortunately, the Braavosi artefacts she had been sent to authenticate were frauds. After she’d done that and sent a text to her Dad, asking him to check in on Jaime and the kids, she went to open up her own accounts. That’s when she heard it.

“—I guess we’ll have to celebrate another night. Sweetling, we love you, and I can’t wait for you to get home.”

Two seats down were three young women dressed for sun and fun rather than Brienne’s ill-fitting business suit. They were staring longingly at one of their phones. “He is just so hot. He’s such a great dad and clearly an amazing husband.”

“Did you see the snap of him doing topless push-ups with his kids on his back? Oh-em-gee, I nearly died.”

“What about the one at the zoo? All tanned and muscular picking his daughter up to look at the lion cage? He is hot a-eff. I swear, every time I look at his Quip feed, my ovaries hurt.”

The three young women continued to drool over Brienne’s husband, or the hot Dad at kingofthe_pride. He’d had the Quip account since Catelyn was born, wanting to show off adorable pictures of their baby girl while he was a stay-at-home-dad. The account had grown popular as Jaime was earnest, loving, and downright gorgeous. Users on Quip had followed him from being a first-time Dad to looking after their boy, Brynden, and their youngest, Joanna. It brought in a little sponsorship money and a lot of unwelcome DMs. He screenshotted her the best ones, along with some personal pics just for her.

Loading Quip, Brienne found Jaime’s most recent story. He was in their garden, Joanna climbing on his shoulder while the other two gathered round to stare at the phone. “So, I just got a call from my wife that she’s stuck in an airport departure lounge and won’t be able to come home tonight. Which is a shame, because these three cubs were going to stay at Grandad’s.”

Jaime offered the camera a sultry wink that would melt most women. Hells, Brienne had been married to him for nine years, and she was still a puddle! “I guess we’ll have to celebrate another night. Sweetling, we love you, and I can’t wait for you to get home.”

All three of their children waved at the camera; Brynden and Ser Roar blowing her a kiss. It disappeared onto the next story – Jaime’s sister, Cersei, wine tasting at her vineyard in Dorne – before Brienne clicked back to his account. There was another post already.

“Oh–em–gee, they’re making Maiden’s Day cards together.”

The picture was, in fact, in the children’s playroom. The large mahogany table that had once sat knights of old was now covered in card, glitter, and felt tip pens. Jaime’s shoulder-length hair was pulled off his face, his grin wide and bright, as Joanna helped him pour sapphire-blue glitter into the shape of a heart. Brynden was working on his letters in his own handmade Maiden’s Day card. Catelyn was drawing something else.

kingofthe_pride: Couldn’t get to the shops, B. Handmade okay?

Brienne chuckled, especially at the next picture of Jaime holding up Catelyn’s drawing of Ser Galladon of Morne and his sword.

kingofthe_pride: Little Lion misunderstood the task. Think you might enjoy it better than mine.

Already the picture had a ton of likes and plenty of comments. Brienne tried to avoid deciphering the string of emojis following several of them; instead, she focused on the smiles of her husband and children. An email from the university diverted her attention, but, when she returned, there was another post from Jaime.

kingofthe_pride: All your partner wants for M-Day is flowers, chocolates, and a sword.

It was a photo of Jaime in the Evenfall museum on Tarth; a crimson bow attached to the exhibit glass holding Oathkeeper. Brienne barked out a laugh, startling a few nearby passengers including the young women who had been drooling over her husband. The next few posts were equally touching: Jaime and the children making flower crowns (#myqueenofloveandbeauty); Jaime and the children making chocolate cupcakes (#knight-feast).

Shaking her head, Brienne opened up her messenger app and found her husband’s name.

B: I love you. Ser Husband: I know. I’m very lovable. B: And modest. Ser Husband: Well, that picture of me with a flower crown has over 600 likes already. Ser Husband: I just wanted to lift your spirits while you’re stuck in a dingy airport lounge. B: You did. Thank you ♥ Ser Husband: Would you like a kingofthe_pride exclusive? B: Always.

The next photo was a selfie. Jaime was in her study; the last of the afternoon light streaming in and highlighting the blonde in his hair and the crow’s feet around his eyes. The angle was off: there were no pixels of his muscular arms or tight abs. He was just a forty-year-old Dad taking a poorly aimed selfie, and staring at the camera with so much love it made her heart ache.

B: I miss you. Ser Husband: I miss you, too.

“This is a passenger announcement. Flight 8OATH7 to Storm’s End is now boarding Please check your ticket information and proceed to Gate 14.”

B: See you soon x

#Anonymous #braime #jaime x brienne #ship: braime #mine: paragraph prompts #brienne is clearly 'ser wife' in his phone

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aviss · 4 years

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5--A Nap?

Thanks for the prompt, Anon, this is possibly the softest thing I have ever written. It’s set in the Unwilling King’s universe.

Brienne entered the room as silently as she could, the sounds of celebration muted once she closed the door.

In the bed, Jaime snored softly, completely unbothered by the stifling heat of the afternoon sun filtering through the open window, the little breeze that got in making little difference. He liked the sun, he always said, much better than that frozen wasteland of the North.

Brienne approached the bed and sat on the edge, her hand immediately going to Jaime's silver hair, her fingers combing through the soft strands. Jaime's thin circlet of a crown was on the bedside table, the same simple one he had been wearing for the past twenty-five years and which he would, finally, be allowed to put down.

"Jaime," she called him, her hand moving from his hair to his shoulder to shake him a bit. He made a sound of displeasure but didn't wake. "Jaime, wake up."

He didn't open his eyes but his smile was all she needed to know he was awake now. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his, a quick peck to the lips which made his smile widen. Brienne pulled back and just stared at him, then traced his features with the tip of her fingers, moving down from his lined forehead and the bumpy nose. She felt it twitch under her fingers and chuckled a bit, continuing her exploration down to his mouth, which parted when she touched his lips, Jaime captured her finger with his teeth and opened his eyes. They were still the same, green and sharp and intelligent. It didn't matter that all his hair and beard had turned white now, or that his face had lines and grooves, he was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep, releasing her finger and taking her hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to her palm.

"Time for you to wake up, old man," she teased him. "You take more naps than your grandchildren."

Jaime laughed. "I need my beauty sleep."

The truth was the years had finally caught up with him, Jaime was getting closer to his seventy name day and his energy waned every day. His health was as good as it could be expected, but he tired easily and needed help occasionally. And naps, if he was going to get through the day, he needed to sleep.

They had had long discussions and arguments about it, and it was finally time for him to step down. They had been blessed with four daughters, and though many had commented on the lack of sons, Jaime had been more than happy with each birth, had amended the laws so it was now the norm for the firstborn to inherit, regardless of their gender.

'I'm King and my word is law' had become one of his favourite sayings, though he had never used the power for himself. He had changed unfair laws and pestered his wife and children with silly proclamations, and his friends as well, but Jaime had been the best King the realm had had in a long time, had never lost sight of the promise he made to Bran Stark, even when he disappeared again beyond the broken Wall.

He had served his sentence, and now, the realm would get the Queen they had educated Alysse to be.

"Come on, get up, Alysse and Aemon have already arrived with the children, the entire realm is waiting for you."

"Did they bring the dragons?"

"Yes, Dany and Drogon are also here."

Jaime sat up on the bed slowly. "Is it today, then?"

"Yes."

He smiled and leaned for a kiss, this time she pressed hard against him, open-mouthed and familiar. They had kissed a million times in the past twenty-five years, and they would kiss another million before she allowed the Stranger to take him from her.

"What are we going to do now?" he asked when they pulled back.

"We're going to Tarth, we'll move into one of the cottages by the cove, just the two of us, and do nothing all day long." She smiled at the image, she had missed Tarth, their duties had not allowed for travel, not even when Brienne had been officially appointed as Evenstar after her father's passing of old age.

Pod had been made Hand of the King after Selwyn, something he had been trained for by Selwyn and Olenna before their passing. He would be keeping the title for Alysse, who adored her uncle Pod, no need to change something that worked.

"Sounds delightful," Jaime said, dreamily.

It did, for about a sennight, and then they would be climbing the walls and driving each other insane, she was certain of it. Neither of them were used to inactivity, and there was only so much energy people their age could spend in bed, though she was certain they were going to try. Even after all that time they still desired each other, something that never failed to shock Brienne, though they rarely had energy for more than kisses.

They could spend time with Joanna and little Pod in Evenfall once they tired of the cottage, and if Jaime was feeling alright, they could travel to the Rock and visit Cat and Tysha. They might even try going to Winterfell, where Jaime was welcome again, though since Tyrion's passing it was a sad journey.

She helped Jaime stand from the bed and put on his rich crimson and azure doublet, the circlet shining golden on top of his head. "I'm not going to miss this thing," he said, offering his arm to Brienne. "And you know, you'll still be my Queen."

"I know," she said, because it was the one constant during this past years. Jaime didn't want to be King, but he loved calling her his Queen.

Not everything had been beautiful and soft, the Kingdoms had been mainly peaceful, with little in the way of uprisings since the last wars had left scars too deep to be easily healed. There had been a succession fight when Olenna Tyrell had passed away, one easily resolved because the old cunning woman had appointed an heir herself and Pod had suddenly found himself the new Lord of Highgarden. He had taken it from some minor Tyrell relatives with the might of the Crown behind him, Olenna must have been laughing from beyond the grave.

They had their fights as well, the worst, which had almost made Brienne go back to Tarth and meant they hadn't spoken to each other for a moon, had been for something she couldn't even remember anymore shortly after the twins were born. There had been other fights after that, but they had made a point to never go to bed angry with each other.

They had survived and they were still together, and they still had some time ahead of them.

They arrived at the throne room, filled with people who had despised the Kingslayer but loved King Jaime, their four daughters standing next to the throne. The people parted and they walked slowly to sit on the throne for the last time, the noise surrounding them until she could hear individual words in the cheer.

With a laugh, Brienne grabbed his right hand and lifted, repeating the same words everyone was saying.

Goldenhand the Just.

At the end of the night, once the crown was on Alysse's head, Jaime also left his golden hand behind.

"Jaime," he said that night, pressing his lips to Brienne's before slipping into bed. "my name is Jaime."

#romance prompts #jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #king jaime #my fic

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firesign23 · 4 years

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"No," Brienne breathed, in both horror and awe. "This can't be—*no*," she repeated. "Compose yourself," Jaime said. "We knew this was a possible outcome, and we went through with it anyway." Brienne shook her head, staring at the—the *thing*, and said, "Not like this, we didn't."

Alright, five sentences meant i had to write twenty-five in response. And this is slightly, slightly less insane than “Brienne gives birth to a dragon” which was, somehow, my FIRST thought to this.

"No," Brienne breathed, in both horror and awe. "This can't be—no," she repeated.

"Compose yourself," Jaime said. "We knew this was a possible outcome, and we went through with it anyway."

Brienne shook her head, staring at the—the thing, and said, "Not like this, we didn't."

“It’s just a dragon.”

“Just… Just a dragon,” she said flatly. “Of course, Jaime. How foolish of me to think that a great bloody dragon was something to be concerned about.”

Jaime extended his golden hand, allowed the crimson monster to curl into his palm. “He’s only a baby.”

“Babies grow! Into dragons! Great big flying dragons! Where the fuck are we supposed to keep a dragon?”

Jaime shrugged, and Brienne very briefly considered throttling her husband. Who had a dragon in his hand. Hatched from the supposedly-fake egg Tyrion had gifted them as a joke for their wedding. She was a generally composed woman, but there were limits.

“Fucking Lannisters,” she spat, which only made Jaime chuckle.

“I don’t recall you cursing the name quite so much last night, wife.”

“That was before the dragon.”

The dragon which had seemingly just yawned as it fell asleep, like an animal far less dangerous. Jaime reached out with his fingers--his fleshy, easily charred fingers--to stroke its head, and it made some sort of noise that was lethally adorable. Giving an exasperated sigh, Brienne stepped closer. It was sweet, in its own odd way, and she should know better than to judge so quickly.

“Tarth,” she said. “There’s mountains, and wild goats, and a cavern near Evenfall Hall large enough to house it. Him.”

“Tarth,” Jaime agreed, his smile as bright as the sun, and as lethal as the dragon who had wrapped its tail around his golden thumb.

Send me an ask with the first sentence of a fanfic and I’ll write the next five.

#my fanfic #ask meme #all the fics I'll never write

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janiedean · 4 years

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I'm really enjoying the JB heart fic — thanks so much for writing! If you're interested in showing more of Tywin or Selywn, I'd be interested to see how that plays out, but I'm just craving more if the muses align.

you’re welcome! and let’s see hmm I mean honest I just need an excuse to get back on track with writing things so anything’s good let’s see xD previous heart fic installments here!

Out of all the people that heart could have belonged to, the last one Selwyn Tarth would have assumed was Jaime Lannister.

Except that it apparently was, and he had pretty much fallen off his chair the moment he received Brienne’s raven informing him of the fact.

That stated, Brienne had sounded happy in that letter, and she had said that they were planning to go around the continent righting injustices for a while but she would be in touch, and - well. Selwyn knows his daughter. He wouldn’t have sent her off if he hadn’t, and when he had received another raven from King’s Landing informing the realm that yes, Ser Jaime had left the Kingsguard in a unprecedented move and no, he wouldn’t take back his titles, he had just smiled and put it away.

He had spent the last year doing the same if he heard of anything those two apparently did - considering that everything he hears of both his daughter and her intended consists in saving your maidens, protecting innocent poor peasants and the likes, he supposes her life is going exactly the way she wanted it to.

And then she had showed up on Tarth with Ser Jaime in tow telling him that they wished to marry and they certainly couldn’t do it in Casterly Rock now, could they, and so Selwyn had organized a ceremony as quickly as possible because he does want his daughter to not have a shabby wedding, she deserves it.

In the moon following their arrival, he hadn’t even needed to give Ser Jaime any kind of talk, because the way he looks at Brienne - gods, that’s how he used to look at his beloved late wife and how anyone he’s ever met who was utterly smitten looked at their intended, and it’s - he had despaired of Brienne ever finding anyone that would look at her like that. Not that she doesn’t seem equally smitten, and so he hadn’t pried and just told Ser Jaime that he was looking forward to having another man in the house and left it at that.

He had let them arrange the invitations. They had told him that only Tyrion Lannister was invited, of Ser Jaime’s relatives.

Which is why Selwyn is now cursing all the gods he can name, because the last thing he had expected was that Tywin Lannister would show up uninvited on the eve of the wedding demanding that he attend, and what could he do, refuse? That, he couldn’t.

But he could avoid both Brienne and Ser Jaime unwanted conversations with him, so he told them to just find an excuse to not attend dinner and that’s why he’s sitting in front of Tywin Lannister, the two of them alone around Evenfall Hall’s main table.

Lannister is looking down at his fish dinner as if it’s barely sufficient - here it’s a delicacy, but Selwyn supposes that both Casterly Rock and King’s Landing offer more extravagant dishes.

“Will tomorrow’s banquet feature... this?” Lannister asks, sounding polite but showing what Selwyn is sure is mid contempt. He doesn’t take it personally, as Jaime told him to - my father tends to treat anyone around him with contempt. Don’t mind it.

“Of course not,” Selwyn replies. “I have planned that for weeks, so it will certainly be more elaborate. Sadly, this is the best we could do with... little notice.”

Lannister stops chewing for a moment, then nods, obviously acknowledging the dig. Gods, Brienne will owe him at least the first grandchild named after him for this.

“I understand,” he says. He’s certainly not refusing to eat the fish, though. “And I assume you have no... issue with this union?”

Selwyn had expected the question. “No,” he says. “Of course not. Never mind that, well, the gods took care of that, and I wouldn’t go against their will, but - my daughter suffered enough to know that she wouldn’t have found some husband easily if trying to arrange it, and she knows her mind. I wanted her to be happy, not miserable. And she seems plenty happy with your son, so I have no issue.”

Lannister seems to have trouble processing what he just said.

Selwyn has a feeling that the concept of letting your child marry for love is completely foreign to him.

“And you don’t mind that he has technically nothing to his name?”

Ah, Selwyn understands, here it goes. He wants to know if I’ll ask for a cut of the gold, doesn’t he?

“My lord,” he says, “this isn’t a very large island, nor the richest in Westeros, but we want for nothing and we are... maybe not the Tyrells, but my chests aren’t empty, either.” He’s about to remind Lannister that more Targaryen kings set foot on here in the olden days than in Casterly, but he decides not to. “Brienne has no need for your title or your gold. Again, she’s happy with him. He seems exceedingly happy with her, and after he told me why he killed his king, I was convinced his bad fame was unwarranted for and that he’s good for her. Same as I think, she’s good for him.” He wonders if he should say it... and then he decides that there’s no point in not doing it. He eats a bite of his own fish. “Also, I did see your son’s heart when it appeared in here.”

“You did,” Lannister says, sounding... carefully flat. He doesn’t look happy about it.

“It wasn’t perfect,” Selwyn shrugs, “but it was obviously a good one. One could feel it just being near it. I told her to take good care of it and she swore she would, and I can see that she’s still doing it and he’s certainly not against it. I knew the moment I saw it that it belonged to someone that could have made her happy if only given a chance to. And - my daughter might not look like it, but she would go any length for the people she loves. They’re a good match. I’ll be glad to give her to him. She’s been unhappy for a long time, and he told me he also had been. Maybe they should have a chance to make up for it. Does that satisfy any lingering question, my lord?”

“I suppose so,” Lannister says, and doesn’t talk anymore as he eats that fish looking like he’s swallowing poison.

Not Selwyn’s business.

But gods, Brienne will owe him for this.

And he’s so not going to tell Lannister of what both his daughter and Ser Jaime had asked the septon to change, for their ceremony.

The next day, Selwyn doesn’t escort his daughter to the altar.

Rather, he waits next to her as she stands next to it, wearing both a blue dress that actually fit her, and her sword. She isn’t wearing any cloak, but Selwyn is holding one with the Tarth colors on it.

He glances at Tywin Lannister’s face when the doors of the sept open and Ser Jaime walks in wearing a crimson Lannister cloak, escorted by his brother, who is the one who gives him away to Brienne.

At that, he looks like he has swallowed two lemons.

Selwyn glances at him again when Brienne divests Jaime of his cloak and puts the blue and pink one on his shoulder.

He looks like he has swallowed five of those lemons.

And when they exchange vows and Jaime tells her that his heart is hers and will always be, he still looks like he could throw up but also like he’s enraged and deeply irritated that there’s nothing he can do to stop this marriage.

For a moment, Selwyn feels sad for him - a parent, he thinks, should be happy at their son or daughter’s wedding, not... whatever Tywin Lannister is right now.

Then again, if he apparently can’t conceive it, too bad for him.

He glances back at the altar, where the septon has bound Brienne’s wrist to Ser Jaime’s and they’re exchanging the final vows, and when they kiss, a real one, he lets himself smile widely.

If Tywin Lannister can’t be happy for them, sure as the seven hells he will.

(fyi: I’m taking prompts for scenes in this verse for the next day or so!)

#jaime x brienne #the heart fic thing #my fic #aaaand here we go sorry for the wedding from the otusider pov but #it worked xDDD #Anonymous #ask post

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aliveanddrunkonsunlight · 4 years

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Turkey Curry Buffet (or a very loose Bridget Jones AU)

A/N: thanks to @pretty--thief for the nudge and technically, this fills the champagne prompt.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

She recognizes him not from when they used to play together in Evenfall’s backyard, but from all the pictures in the papers. Jaime Lannister. The handsome looks, wavy blond hair, and piercing green eyes. The only difference is his face has matured a little and quite unfairly, make him look all the better. And if Brienne did have any doubt, he is wearing a rather garish gold and crimson jumper. Lannister colors.

His eyes travel up and down her body in a quick once over. When his gaze settled on her face, there’s a flicker of recognition, but he shakes his head. “No, can’t say I do. And I would remember you.”

It’s a comment on her appearance without being an insult, but she grimaces anyway. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m a friend of the Starks.”

“A friend?” Catelyn has never held much fondness for Tywin or his brood, but Brienne assumes Jaime garnered an invitation in an effort to be civil and welcoming, even to the Starks’ competitors. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.

Several years prior, Tywin handed over the reins to his son, the man who stood before her, but rumor said it was the younger son who kept the ship afloat, while Jaime was simply the pretty face.

“Am I an enemy to you then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t even know you.”

“We knew each other when we were little.” She tries to push past him in an attempt to get to the side of the table he’s blocking, but he snaps his fingers in recognition, blocking her path.

“Oh, I know. Brienne Tarth. You always could keep up with the boys.”

Her mouth falls open. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He at least has the courtesy to look embarrassed. “I just meant…” he stumbles over his words. “You were always willing to go on adventures with Addam and I. Not like my sister.”

She clears her throat. “Yes, well.”

He eyes her half empty plate. “Do you have a drink? You want something?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, come on. It’s the holidays. A little champagne, at least?”

“I really can’t. I, uh-”

“You have stunning eyes,” Jaime blurts out.

The last thing she expects is a compliment from this man’s lips. Her face blooms with blush and although she can barely tear her eyes away from his, she glances down at her plate, hoping to quell the feelings stirring in her gut. A large hand lands on her shoulder, making her look up into the smiling face of her father, who towers over her at almost seven feet.

“Hi, darling. I see you two have found each other.”

Jaime flashes a quick smile at Selwyn. “Yes, it’s good to catch up.” But Brienne notes the unease in her father’s face.

“You know Brienne has done quite well for herself.”

She puts a hand on her father’s arm, nearly begging him not to continue. “He doesn’t want to hear.”

“Would you rather me tell the story about the time you ran round naked in his pool?”

Brienne nearly chokes. “Dad!” She can feel the burn of Jaime’s gaze on her and when she glances over, he’s trying to suppress a smirk. “Okay, off with you now.” She gives her father a playful shove, his laugh echoing across the room as he leaves them be.

“That’s your dad?”

“Yes, and if you make a comment about how I clearly got my looks or stature or body from him, I’ll whack you with…” Her eyes scan the table, searching for a weapon, but the only thing which might do the job is the spoon in her hand. “This ladle.”

“Over the turkey curry buffet? How cheeky.” He raises an eyebrow at her and damn, his eyes are as gorgeous as the rest of him.

“Piss off.”

His mouth falls open in feigned shock. “For the love of the Seven. You have quite a mouth. Did you pick it up working for the Starks?”

“I don’t work for the Starks.”

“Oh, really? What do you do then?”

“I’m a defender for Winterfell.”

“Ah, you learned it on the soccer pitch. Should have known.” If she remembers correctly, Jaime played soccer in school. She wonders why he didn’t go pro. Family obligation, perhaps? “That’s quite impressive. We should celebrate your success. Champagne?”

“Thank you, but-” It’s too late for her objections, as Jaime spots a waiter circulating with full glasses and snatches them two flutes. But now she has a plate full of food and no way to eat it since her other hand is full.

“Come, come, sit.” His hand lightly lands on her wrist, Brienne tryng to ignore the sparks she feels from his touch.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asks suspiciously as she takes a seat. “Shouldn’t you be circulating the party, glad handing all your business associates? Trying to make Ned Stark jealous?”

Jaime lets out a surprised laugh. “You’re very astute, Brienne Tarth.” He takes a sip of champagne as she tries to shovel down the turkey curry as gracefully as she can. “Believe it or not, Catelyn Stark does not invite me to keep me in her good graces. It’s because she feels sorry for me.”

It’s laughable that anyone would feel sorry for Jaime Lannister. He is no doubt one of the richest men in Westeros. He can solve any problem by throwing money at it. Jaime is heartbreakingly handsome and despite her better judgement, Brienne finds him oddly charming. She chews and takes a sip of champagne to wash it down. “Why?”

A shadow crosses his face. “Because,” he replies, clearing his throat. “I’m divorced.”

“Oh.” Brienne isn’t sure what to say. “Recently?”

“No,” he admits. “But a painful one.”

“I’m sorry,” she says automatically, before realizing she really does feel sympathy for him. She places her hand at his wrist, squeezes it quickly. “I am.”

“Thank you.” He gives her a grateful smile, perhaps because she hasn’t treated him as a pariah. Jaime drains the rest of his flute and cuts a look towards her, eyes flashing. “Now what’s this about you running round naked in my pool?”

#jaime x brienne #braime fanfiction #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #bridget jones au kinda

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b-does-the-write-thing · 4 years

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general incivility, chapter two

- a brienne x jamie pride & prejudice retelling -

chapter one l chapter two

The day of the assembly, Morne Manor was busier than it had been in over a decade. The carriages had finally arrived from Casterly Rock just yesterday with all the trappings and furnishings that befitted the scion of the lion.

Not that Tyrion had wanted any of the crimson or gold hangings. All Tyrion had cared about was the bottles of brandy from the Rock. And the wine from the arbor. Though to be fair he had also expressed considerable annoyance over the lack of port.

Thankfully, all had arrived with the rest of his things, not that Tyrion was around to notice. His new steward had things well in order, though he was an odd, rough sort of man. Tyrion had picked him up somewhere along the mountain roads. Gruff and sly, Bronn Blackwater had seemed an odd choice for steward to Jamie’s eye, but Tyrion enjoyed the man and so far he had proved proficient.

All in all, Tyrion was overall delighted with the ancient place and its idiosyncrasies. He had already found two hidden passages and a carving he was convinced dated back to the Andals.

For his part, Jaime was ready to flee back to Casterly Rock. From what he had seen thus far, the Stormlands were a destitute, rocky wasteland. Morne Manor itself had been nearly in ruins when Tyrion had decided to purchase the estate. The youngest son of Tywin Lannister had read about it some book somewhere and decided on a whim to make it his new home. Though why anyone would want to live in the Stormlands instead of the Riverlands, Jamie couldn’t have said.

“It’s ghastly here,” Cersei echoed, even though he had not uttered a word. His cousin stood beside him at the head of the staircase, watching the servants scuttle this way, spilling from the doorway like black ants. With a sigh, Cersei turned away from the organized chaos unfolding below. “Take a stroll with me,” she purred, more a demand than a request. Before he could answer, she took him by the arm and began to stroll up the hallway, letting her head rest upon his bicep.

He tensed, ever so slightly, eyes cutting around them as they walked. In a town this size, someone would always be watching, if only out of boredom rather than malice. Another reason he could not wait for Tyrion to grow bored with this little game and return back to the Rock.

He did not disentangle himself from Cersei but he could not quite relax either. Born on the same day, the firstborn children of the Lannister twin brothers, Cersei and Jaimie were as close as any siblings. They had grown up together but lately, Cersei had been hinting at something new...at taking their relationship from those of cousins to that of something more intimate...to an understanding.

She was a beautiful woman, smart and intelligent, and he cared for her, yes, but something held him back. He could not say what it was other than an innate certainty that her interest was less for the love of him and more of a desire to be known as Lady Lannister of Casterly Rock, instead of just simply Ms. Lannister.

As they turned down the west wing hallway, a door creaked open just as they passed, revealing the empty library. “There you are, Jamie,” Tyrion declared. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Cersei gave a sweet, short laugh. “Well. Small wonder you couldn’t find him in the library. Your brother was seeing to the preparation of the house, something the master of the house should be overseeing. Not tucked away in some musty old library. For such an intelligent fellow, you tend to be terribly short-sighted, Tyrion. ”

Not missing her emphasis, Tyrion gave their cousin a grin. “I’m surprised you can even see me from that high horse of yours, cuz.”

Cersei’s green eyes, so like Jamie’s, flashed in rage. “Have a care how you speak to me, sir. I need only stand in my stocking feet to look down upon you.”

“No fine feat considering most children can as well,” Tyrion agreed. “Which is why I have need of my brother here. I cannot reach one of the shelves and my ladder has not yet arrived.”

Knowing they could go on for hours, Jamie disentangled himself from Cersei. “Now, now, children. Manners.”

Cersei knew Jamie well enough to pick up that he was in no mood for their diatribes today. She smoothed her face back into a courteous smile. “You’re quite right, Jamie, dear. Besides, I should go see that these country maids have managed to iron my gown without ruining it.”

Without so much as a glance at Tyrion, she pressed a kiss to Jamie’s cheek before departing. Jamie lingered just long enough to admire the way her hips swayed in the scarlet silk gown she had custom designed from Bravos. Empire-waisted, she had explained when she had first shown it to him. He wasn’t sure what that meant but it did fit her tall, willowy figure admirably-

Tyrion chuckled under his breath. “Our dear cousin is rather out of her element in the Stormlands, isn’t she?” He looked up at Jamie knowingly. “I must say, it did rather surprise me when our sweet cousin voluntarily chose to accompany us to my new estate.”

“As I told you, once I’ve seen you settled, I will accompany Cersei to King’s Landing for the winter,” he reminded Tyrion.

“Right, right,” Tyrion muttered as he waddled back into the library. Jaime followed after him, feeling already ill at ease in the massive room. Every surface was covered in books. Their father had been happy to get rid of his black sheep of a son, happy enough to send a majority of the Rock’s library with him to the Stormlands without an argument.

“Where were you this morning?” Jaime inquired as he followed behind Tyrion towards the back of the library. “I had hoped to take a ride down to the shore before the weather turned.”

Tyrion screwed up his face. “I have no interest in riding down to any body of water.” He patted his short, squat legs with a leer. “I’m not made for swimming. I’d sink like a stone.” Jamie ignored this. Tyrion always used his stature as an excuse to avoid anything more strenuous than going down to the kitchen cellars. “Besides, I called on Selwyn Tarth at Evenfall Hall.”

Jamie was not familiar with the names. “For what purpose?”

Tyrion climbed up into the chair specially designed for him. “In all honesty? I had hoped to catch a sight of his daughter.”

Jamie groaned. “Tyrion-”

“The Beauty of Tarth,” Tyrion continued, pointing to a blue book on the top leftmost shelf. “Fetch that for me, would you?”

Jamie did as he was asked. “Lives of the Nine Septons?” he read quizzically. “Feeling rather pious lately, dear brother?”

Tyrion harrumphed. “Not on your life. I was looking for the Jade Compendium. I could have sworn it was that same color. Perhaps over here…”

Tyrion hopped back down and headed across the back wall of windows towards the far corner. Jamie trailed after him. “This beauty,” Jamie said, knowing his brother well enough to know where this was going. “Does she….”

“Know I’m a dwarf?” Tyrion said with a leer over his shoulder. “I haven’t the foggiest. If it hasn’t gotten out by now, I suppose she and the rest of the Stormlands will learn of it tonight at the assembly.” He paused, looking this way and that. “Where could it have gotten?”

Jamie knelt down and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Tyrion, I know this whole business has been...strenuous.”

“Oh, the part about un-inheriting me unless I give up my claim to Castlery Rock and settle down with a respectable wife on the other side of Westeros?” Tyrion was smiling but his eyes were hard. “Or the part where my dear brother informed my father of my plans to elope to Gretna Green with a crofter’s daughter?” He brushed Jamie’s hand off his shoulder. “Forget the book. I should follow Cersei’s lead and prepare for the assembly. I want to make an impression, after all.”

“Tyrion-” Jamie began but it was too late. His brother had already turned the corner and disappeared down another stack of shelves, leaving Jamie Lannister alone in the library alone with only his good intentions.

Tyrion Lannister was a dwarf.

The entire assembly was abuzz about this development. It was the most shocking piece of gossip in over a century and no one was immune to its salacious nature. People reporting back also admitted to finding the gentleman gifted with an easy, unaffected manner paired with a sharp wit that was delightfully well wielded.

Attention soon also shifted to his companions: a brother and cousin. Beautiful in the classic way that was so en vogue at the moment, the pair looked so alike they could have been twins, from the way their green eyes narrowed in disdain to the way their full lips curled up in amused derision.

Half the ladies were already in love with the gentleman before they even learned that he had ten thousand pounds a year. After that, there was a great burst of fuss and fluttering before it became clear that though rich and handsome, his manners left much to be desired. Jamie Lannister was curt in conversation, rude in his responses, and refused to dance despite the numerous ladies sitting along the wall. He was quickly declared to be the most disagreeable man anyone had ever met.

On the other hand, Tyrion Lannister, despite his stature, had already made the acquaintance of nearly every person in attendance. Every corner soon buzzed about his latest quip or joke, if not remarking on the cold beauty of his companions.

In all the excitement, Brienne’s usual tormentors did not notice or care that she was even in attendance. She had been left mercifully alone for the entire evening, having selected a spot along the back wall upon her arrival but as more and more guests arrived, her haven was soon overrun.

Heading out of the gathering crush before she garnered any unwanted attention, Brienne was in the process of trying to make herself as small as humanly possible (which did not work any better than it ever had or would for someone over six feet tall) when she nearly stepped on the gentleman of the hour.

“My apologies, my lord,” Brienne hurried to amend, dropping into a rough courtesy. “I didn’t see you- I mean-”

The dwarf threw his head back up at her and then, to her disbelief, laughed. “No, I don’t think you could from all the way up there,” he agreed. One black eye and one green sparkled up at her. Tyrion Lannister was almost half her size, with a face almost as unfortunate as her own, but it was plain to see he was at ease with himself, as confident in his own skin as any man.

Before Brienne could muddle things further, her father materialized at their sides, handing Brienne a glass of punch. “Ah, Mister Lannister, I see you’ve met my daughter. Brienne, this is Tyrion Lannister, Lord of Morne Manor.”

“This is your daughter?” Tyrion said, clearly taken aback. Uncertain of what to say or do, Brienne offered him another courtesy. He recovered quickly, a smile back on his odd face. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, Ms. Brienne,” Tyrion said, offering her his own small bow. “I am afraid I’ve promised this dance and the next and the next.”

“I thank you, but I do not dance, good sir,” Brienne said hastily as the music started to summon the dancers back to their places.

“Sad tidings. We would be quite a pair,” he said with a cheerful wink, that was not at all mockery. It was more like an inside joke, and Brienne found herself relaxing despite herself, something she never did at balls. “Till we meet again, Miss Tarth.”

As her father spied one of his old business partners and moved to speak with him, Brienne retired to the edge of the hall. There were a few other ladies lingering against the wall, but none of them spared her a glance. Everyone knew Brienne Tarth and no one was worried they may be slighted for a dance in her favor.

With her height, Brienne was able to see everything on the dance floor with ease despite the occasional plumage in a lady’s coiffure. She remained there, watching the events of the evening unfold and hoping her father would grow tired soon and they could leave. Septa Roelle would be waiting to hear all about the evening and Brienne wanted to have plenty to tell her. She would just leave out the part where she had stood in a corner the whole evening.

Unintentionally, Brienne's gaze was drawn to the pair of lions on the far side of the room. It was hard to miss such a splendid pair. Tyrion’s older brother, Jaime Lannister, was indeed a handsome man but his face seemed to be permanently contorted into a sour glower. He stood with his arms crossed and did not speak to a single person with the exception of his brother and the stunningly beautiful woman at his side.

Cersei Lannister, a cousin on their father’s side, was by all reports an accomplished woman. She too was tall, but still at least two heads shorter than her cousin. She had the same blonde hair as the Lannister brothers but hers was pinned in curled ringlets, tightly coiled and shining as if it was actual gold in the lamplight. Her dress was of the latest fashion, only seen thus far in magazines from town, and outshone all the drab, simple cotton dresses the rest of the ladies wore.

The handsome pair had already danced once and soon Cersei Lannister danced with three other men. All the while, Jamie Lannister did not move from his spot.

Despite being the early days of autumn, the day had been unseasonably humid and the evening continued to be as such. Brienne soon grew too warm in her vantage spot and was obliged to move towards the back wall where the doors were opened up to let the night air circulate into the hall.

She took a seat upon the benches lining the wall, and let her eyes fall shut as she listened to the last song fade away. When the song changed, she opened her eyes to find she could no longer see the dancers. A few couples had retired to this edge of the dancefloor to catch their breath, amongst them Tyrion Lannister who was joined by his brother.

“Come, Jamie,” Tyrion wheedled. “You looked wretched standing there twiddling your thumbs. I’ve seen you dance at the Rock. These dances are not so different.”

His brother scoffed. “I prefer to be acquainted with my dancing partner. And the only lady in my acquaintance present has been engaged for the majority of the evening.”

“There are plenty of pretty girls,” Tyrion protested. “And if none of them turn your fancy, I just met the most wonderful specimen of woman. The Beauty of Tarth. You must let me introduce you.”

For some reason, hearing Tyrion Lannister utter that moniker stung. Brienne stood, intending to find refuge in the music room for the remainder of the evening but she miscalculated.

At the sudden movement behind him, Jamie Lannister half turned and caught sight of her just as Tyrion announced, “She can’t be hard to spot, she’s taller than you are! ”

Brienne hastily averted her gaze. She could feel Jamie Lannister consider her for a moment before he turned his back on her. “I am in no humor at present to give consequence to slighted young ladies, tolerable or no.” The apothecary's daughter appeared, requesting a dance from Tyrion who happily obliged her. As the pair hurried to join the reel, Jamie Lannister walked away as well, leaving Brienne to sink back down to the bench.

Thankfully, the evening passed quickly after that encounter. When she and her father returned to Evenfall Hall, Septa Roelle was still up with The Seven Pointed Star. She put it aside and stood hastily. “Well?”

Selwyn Tarth hid a yawn behind his hand. “Apologies, my dear, septa,” he murmured through another yawn. “I’m quite done for. If you’ll excuse me-”

Brienne found herself quite alone with Septa Roelle, who was inspecting her closely. They had hidden the bruise under powder and rouge and done Brienne’s hair up as best they could but it had fallen with the humidity and was currently hanging lackluster around her face. Thankfully, her gown had been spared the usual “accidental” punch spill this time. It was rather damp under the arms and would need a good laundering but was otherwise still presentable.

Brienne was also quite exhausted but she knew she would have no peace until she recounted the entire tale from start to finish. Lowering herself to the chaise, she kicked off her slippers, which had pinched her feet mercilessly and caused her to mince for the last hour or so.

“How did you find Mr. Tyrion Lannister?” Roelle prompted.

“Short,” Brienne answered honestly. “But overall well mannered if not prone to being a bit libel with his consummation of brandy.”

Roelle frowned at this. “Did you dance with him?”

Brienne flushed. “I did not have the honor, Septa, no.”

“And what of his brother?” Septa Roelle continued, though she made no attempt to hide her disappointment. “I’ve heard he is quite handsome and is to have ten thousand pounds a year-”

“He has an understanding with his cousin, a Miss Cersei Lannister,” Brienne lied. Well, she did not know it was a lie. It could very well be true. And if it wasn’t, Septa Roelle would hear about it, no doubt.

“Hmm, well, I cannot say I had expected any different,” Septa Roelle said as she settled back into her seat. “I simply thought perhaps…”

A dwarf would be desperate enough to marry a giant. It would have been rather funny if Brienne had not been the butt of the joke.

#b does the write thing #bramie #braimie #jaime x brienne #asoiaf fic #asoiaf fan fic

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ohcaptaintarthister · 5 years

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Oh, wow!

So. I just realized that one of my early Jaime/Brienne fanfics was a Modern AU where Jaime and Brienne marry in Evenfall Hall.

The ceremony still involved cloaking. I had Tywin give Jaime the bridal cloak Joanna wore. Crimson with gold stitching. And with a gold lion brooch. Rather than emeralds for its eyes, Tywin had it replaced with sapphires. For Brienne.

The story is "I Am Yours, And You Are Mine." If you want to see Brienne at a shower, Jaime bored at a strip club and y'know, my usual smut, you'll find it in The Lannisters Are Coming series. You'll have to log in, though!

#brienne x jaime #jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #lady lannister #lord lannister #modern au #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #braime #my writing #gwendoline christie

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altar-ov-plagues · 9 months

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Crimson Evenfall

#crimson evenfall #black metal #old school black metal

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vairuler · 5 years

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❝ have you ever felt anything more comfortable? ❞

｡ﾟﾟ AUREATE , CRIMSON , DULCET TRYST . SETTLING ON BARCHAN , A DUO awash in roseate radiance & evenfall . seek her , divine heiress , her cherub strokes coiling into elapid beam & eyne arching with delicacy . carmine sweatshirt wrought round shoulder blades , seamed with cotton , fragrant in pomegranate & nectarine . it suits her so ! ; hue mirroring cheek’s flush / emphasizing vermilion adore . ❛ —– —- – not at all . i swear clothes are always more comfy when they belong to someone else . ❜

besotted with debonair , gloss glinting with glee . 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 ; shoulder to shoulder , thigh to thigh . ❛ —– —- – though it is not someone else’s , is it ? this shirt is mine now . ❜

5 senses . 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♡ . . . !

#dayfire #°｡ﾟﾟ ☼ ┊ ❪ ᶦᶰᵇᵒˣ . ❫ ROYAL COURT . ❜ ╯#gallilea steals his hoodies. it's canon

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seb-rideswrites-sos · 6 years

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Two Tragopans- Part 1

I was lying on my bed with my gaze fixed upon a mirror on the right side of the bedpost that evening. The window panes on the other side could be seen through the mirror; it allured me with crimson rays of the autumn evenfall, occasionally hidden by the fluttering curtains. Hopefully, my eyelids might get convinced to fool their twin companions for once, and I could have a sound sleep. The tranquil state of mind and the sluggish posture of the body in such habitual meditations of mine are not to be meddled with, or else, the wrath of the wounded knight shall befall you.

“No, not now!” I cursed myself while reaching out for the incoming call. The voice on the other end was familiar, the kind of voice that reverberates in your ears for a decade with all its variations; the gabble of that girl in preschool, the streaks of laughter that gulped down her words in a picnic, and a sob that smeared those words a moment before departure. A syllable spoken out of that voice gave the instant cue for recognition in my head.

“Remember that trek you never stopped talking about?”She started off a conversation out of the void.

“How will I forget something if I was so interested in it?”

“Because you said ‘was interested’ and as far as I know, you tend to forget things when you lose interest in them.” She said half in jest, took a brief pause and continued; “So, have you taken it yet?”

“Not yet.”My reply came off a bit abrupt than what it sounded like in my head.

“I have come home for a few weeks. If I take a flight to North-East and land somewhere between Imphal and Itanagar, will I be able to see you?” She asked monotonously; her last question almost drowning in the depths of a noisy crowd.

“If you are so keen to take that flight, drop in for a visit to Lilabari”.

The skies of Lilabari had already hailed the splendor of full moon. ‘Way to Dzouku ’, read the rusty signboard on the pebble-strewn foothills of Viswema. My fellow trekker was panting heavily as we had to cover half of the motorable road by foot owing to a taxi breakdown. The sunlight and the sweat drops that trickled down the forehead blurred my vision; making it almost impossible to see her reddened face.

“Still seems like a good idea?” I burst out laughing, trying to hide my exhaustion from it.

“Yes, still a good idea than spending a week in apathy down the south”, she asserted, dabbing her face with a towel. The baffling excitement in her voice aroused a bit of jealousy in me; it was something I had lost down the road.

“And who the hell carries an acoustic guitar of 7 pounds while bag packing for a trek?”I reproved her easygoing attitude about bag packing for a two-day trek. I have always had a delicate plan to make things work when it comes to trekking. To me, she looked like the worst bag packer ever.

“You will thank me later”, she said with unfettered confidence yet finding it hard to balance her bodyweight at the start of a steep cliff- climb.

Dzouku has always been a trekkers’ paradise and a journey to the seven sister states notched a top spot in my bucket-list during the college years. Years later, I ended up in a small town in Arunachal. What I have always dreamt of was much easier to accomplish by then. So I took frequent road trips throughout the North-East; Sela pass, Ziro valley, Majuli island, Tawang, Touphema village, Dawki, Nohkalikai falls and the list goes on. There were a few times I could have easily taken the trail to Dzouku valley. But each time a voice in my head convinced the adventurer in me to wait a little longer; to wait for the right time, ‘It is winter and it will be freezing cold’ or ‘Who else will take a trek in the summer when the valley has none of its mesmerizing flowers?’.When the lilies bloomed and the rhododendrons adorned the valley, the same voice screamed in my head; ‘It is raining cat and dogs and the trek can get treacherous.’ At last, it turned out to be a trek in the last week of a November, when it is neither autumn nor winter, with a long-lost friend who came to my life in an autumn 14 years back.

An unseasonal rain had blessed the mountains that morning. This made the trek a moderate to difficult one as the ground had become slippery.

“There will not be any lush green meadows when you reach the valley. And most of the flowers will have withered.”I never meant to discourage the girl indulged in a ferocious battle between the rock blocks and her bag pack. To give her a slight relief, I added; ”The steep climb is only for two kilometers. As far as I know, the rest of the trek is a cakewalk.”

“It is okay. It is just that I am tired. Let’s take a short break here, can we?”She jumped on to a boulder and stretched out her legs. She sighed at the creepy narrow ridges ahead and shot a glance at me.

“Mind having some water?”I took out one from the stash of water bottles on my back.

“No.” She caught the bottle leaning back like a flexible athlete. After a sip of water, she narrowed her eyebrows, looked straight into my eyes and asked a question that I have heard a lot in recent times, ”What happened to the job in that firm?”

“They made me quit. I was not disciplined enough for them.” The answer was honest, compared to the last couple of times when similar questions were asked by someone else.

“True they are.”She shook her head as if she completely agreed with my company officials. ”A footloose youngster who is disciplined only when it comes to motorcycling and bag packing”, she chuckled at her own sarcastic comments.

I smirked back at her, though her dreamy proposition about me was quite impressive. “Shall we climb the goddamn mountain before the sun sets in?”I got on my feet.

#story #part 1 #spilled words #writers on tumblr #writerscreed #my writing #nostalgia #travel #creative

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ddagent · 3 years

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How about hand!brienne and king!jaime?

Can’t go wrong with a little canon divergence this fine evening! Thank you for the prompt, Anon; I hope you enjoy it!

Lannister sails were spotted along the horizon just as they sat down to break their fast. All three of the Evenstar’s children rushed to the window to stare at the fleet of boats making their way from King’s Landing. Their father, a hedge knight who had been elevated far beyond his status, huffed and called for ale. Their mother, the Evenstar, followed her children in staring along the horizon.

At seeing the familiar red and gold, Brienne of Tarth smiled.

“All right, children, eat quickly,” Brienne said, depositing a kiss atop the head of her youngest. “The King will soon be upon us.”

From the table, Ser Hyle Hunt wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Fucking fantastic.”

Brienne ignored her husband’s outburst and, instead, busied herself with preparing Evenfall Hall for the arrival of the King and his retinue. Rooms had been made up; barrels of wine dragged up from the cellar. The fishermen in the port had been out for days at a time. Ever since the raven from King’s Landing, the whole island had been captivated by the prospect of a visit from the Golden Lion. Some, however, remembered when he was nothing more than a cub. Brienne remembered him that way, too. Soft curls and an even softer smile.

She was looking forward to seeing that smile.

As the royal ships docked at the harbour, Brienne and her household finished the final preparations. Far too soon, word came that the King and his procession were making their way towards Evenfall. The people of Tarth lined the streets, and in the courtyard of Evenfall, House Tarth gathered. Brienne, in a sapphire blue tunic, stood proud. Her eldest daughter, Catelyn, stood beside her. Brynden was next; Joanna at the furthest end.

Her husband brought up the rear. He let out a snort of derision at the sight of the sword resting upon Brienne’s hip. “Truly, Brienne? Even today?”

“Especially today.”

Any potential argument was cut short by the clap of hooves against Evenfall’s cobbled walkway. The Kingsguard, their white cloaks flapping in the face of an oncoming storm, were first to enter. Next was the Prince, Harlan of House Lannister. His dark curls tumbled across his shoulders; soft brown eyes settling pleasantly upon Brienne’s eldest daughter. Cat scoffed, earning an elbow to the ribs from her brother. A carriage trundled across the stone, and then – Jaime.

Even decades on, he was still every inch the handsome knight from the old stories. His hair was darker, now; there were crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. But his smile was still soft. Still only for her.

“Brienne.”

Hyle’s hiss of her name was not enough to break Brienne from her reverie. No: while her family and household bowed at their King’s feet, she stood standing. Jaime, never King, lifted a single eyebrow in amusement as he approached. “Do you not kneel before your King, my Lady?”

“I have never knelt to you here.”

“Both of us know that isn’t quite true.” Jaime wet his top lip; Brienne’s breath hitching at the memory of what they had done in this very courtyard. But the moment passed, and the King addressed his subjects. “As far as I recall, my Lady, our bouts were fairly even before the Evenstar’s daughter and the Lion from the West was called to war.”

“Maybe during your visit, we could finally determine a winner.”

Jaime simply threw his head back and laughed. He then enveloped her in an embrace; his fingers tight around her shoulder blades. “It’s good to see you, Ser.”

“And you, Cub.”

Brienne allowed herself a single moment holding Jaime Lannister in her arms before they both retreated behind the masks they wore. The King, ignoring the Evenstar’s husband, introduced himself to the children. He challenged Cat to a duel, asked Brynden if he would take him out on the seas, and produced a sunflower for Joanna to wear in her hair. It was then that the Queen emerged from her carriage.

“Highgarden’s prize rose,” Hyle muttered, before kissing Queen Margaery’s hand when she presented it. “The songs they sing of your beauty, my Queen, are a pale imitation of the real thing.”

Margaery acted demure as she accepted Hyle’s compliment – more than he had ever offered Brienne, other than a hand in marriage when she found herself with child after the war. The King, however, had no interest in praising his wife’s beauty. He turned to Brienne; his eyes awash with old memories. “I would like to pay my respects.”

“My love—”

“—of course,” Brienne interjected. “Catelyn, would you ensure Queen Margaery and the court have everything they need?”

Her eldest nodded. “Of course, Mother. My King. My Queen, if you would follow me?”

While the royal household made their way inside Evenfall Hall, the King and the Evenstar travelled to the Sept overlooking the cliffs. There, a pillar of stones stood in memory of her late father. He had treated Jaime like a son, and he mourned him as such. Brienne’s gaze stole to the harbour and the Lannister ships while her oldest and dearest friend paid his respects.

When he was done, his hand lingered upon her shoulder. Then they sat, strewn in the grass like they had when they were children. With a wistful smile, Jaime spoke of their children. “I cannot believe how big they are.”

“Septa Roelle once said children are like weeds. They grow and grow and grow.”

"Especially children on Tarth. Brynden will be taller than me, of that, I have no doubt. Catelyn already is!” Jaime grinned. “I would like to know them better, Brienne. I know I have no right—”

“—they are your children, too. It’s not as if Hyle is under any illusions. He knows Catelyn is not his; she is nothing more to him than a bargaining chip to a lordship.” Brienne faltered, recalling the offer he’d made after she’d returned pregnant with the new King’s babe. The first of three. “He suspects Brynden and Joanna are not, either, although cannot give voice to it. It would mean I was unfaithful, like him, and Hyle cannot fathom anyone but him suffering the agony of bedding me.”

Jaime’s fingers brushed along hers. “It is an agony I have suffered before, and would for a thousand nights after this one.” He laced their fingers together. “Perhaps we could suffer together in King’s Landing?”

A line formed across her brow. “What excuse would I give for visiting the capital?”

“You would be my Hand.” Brienne pulled her own away. “I’m serious, Brienne. After Addam, I...” He trailed off. Addam’s sudden death had been a surprise to them all. “I trust you, Brienne. More than anyone. It has to be you. If not you, it’ll be Loras Tyrell, and we both know the only Tyrell we can stand is a Redwyne. Come to King’s Landing. Bring the children. Hells, bring Hyle if you must. We were made to stand together. It has been far too long since I have had you at my side.”

Brienne did not know what to say. She knew King’s Landing was no place for her; the vipers of the Court were no less poisonous than when Jaime’s sister had crawled among them. It was no place for her children, either; the bastard children of the King, with his smile and stubborn streak. It would be a new kind of hell to see Jaime day in, day out; their last rendezvouses taking place on battlefields, in crimson tents where every day could be their last. But here – Jaime haunted her here. The knowledge of what had been, and the prospect of what could.

“Let me think about it.”

“That is all I ask.”

He asked too much. They both knew it. Like they both knew she would say yes. She always did.

#Anonymous #braime #jaime x brienne #ship: braime #mine: paragraph prompts #I am honestly so exhausted I have no idea if this is even any good.

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