A Heaven of Our Misery

Notes: To make the story work, Cersei couldn't have any children. There was no way two "trueborn" sons would be passed over in favor of Brienne, so I had to get rid of them. That, by extension, means that Jaime and Cersei's relationship had to change, at least a little bit.

I decided not to create a specific genealogy that connected House Baratheon to House Tarth. There may even be a canon family connection, though it probably wouldn't be close enough to make Robert and Brienne cousins. I left the connection maternal and vague so as not to interfere too much with any other canonical family ties.

I inferred that Tyrion would be living at court since he traveled to Winterfell with his siblings in the first book, though I decided Tywin lives primarily at the Rock…at least until opportunity knocks.

Thank you for (further) suspending disbelief and most of all, thank you for reading!

Chapter One

They came for his white cloak on a bright summer's day. At least they made it appear official, though such a thing had never been done before. There was a small ceremony involving the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the members of the Small Council and even his lord father. Tywin Lannister's presence was no happy accident: Jaime had no doubt that his father had at last orchestrated his release from the Kingsguard, and therefore a life of bachelorhood. His arrival from Casterly Rock had been what had spurred this farce into motion, and Jaime couldn't look at him without feeling his muscles go stiff with resentment. Cersei was there in her capacity as Queen, and her lips were also curled into a satisfied smile. Her beauty was awe-inspiring, but even that couldn't distract him as he was stripped, with all due ceremony, of the last of his honor.

How gleefully King Robert must have signed the decree which released him from his oath. Jaime felt the ache in his wrists and realized he'd been clenching both fists hard through the entire proceedings.

"Stop making a scene," his father snapped when the horrid thing was finally over. "You're still an anointed knight and the heir to Casterly Rock once more."

"I am a most fortunate son indeed," Jaime replied through stiff lips.

Now that he'd been divested of his white cloak, leaving him feeling somehow diminished, the chamber emptied quickly. His father took advantage of that fact, crossing to the door to close it securely behind the last of the retreating Council members.

"I suppose now you'll tell me the reason for my good fortune," Jaime mused, unable to keep from sounding bitter. He was the best swordsman in the realm, a man grown for years now, and yet he was powerless against his father's machinations. Pathetic.

"You will be grateful to me," Tywin said. It was not a request. Jaime's response was a snort as he searched the chamber for wine. Getting drunk at times like these was usually his brother's forte, but he felt this was an appropriate instance to try and emulate the imp.

"You will marry Brienne of Tarth," his father said, ignoring his son's derision.

"Tarth." If Jaime had ever heard of the place, he'd long ago forgotten. "How the mighty must stoop. I suppose no Tully or Tyrell would take me, what with my rather spoiled reputation, but I have to admit I'm surprised it isn't a Frey. That mummified corpse is practically selling his girl-spawn at market, and I might have merited at least a Banefort or a Bettly—"

Tywin's fist slammed down onto one of the decorative tables in the chamber. Jaime turned to him, his eyebrows lifted in mild surprise at this uncharacteristic loss of control on his father's part.

"So this is what it felt like to Cersei. At least she got a crown out of the bargain," he commented, but if his tone was light, his scorn wasn't. "What makes you think I'll just blithely follow your command? Why should I marry some silly nobody from nowhere?"

Tywin's eyes flashed, nearly gold in the fading afternoon light. He didn't move at a muscle and yet still gave the impression of a stalking lion, sensing the kill and impatient for it.

"You will marry her," he said in a cold, dangerous voice, "because Robert Baratheon is dying, and she will be his heir."

Brienne was told that her life was ending the very same day, though many miles away, and in the same unassailable terms. Her father tried to be gentle about the news she was to marry, but there were hard truths to tell and Selwyn couldn't afford to make it seem as though Brienne had a choice in the matter.

"We need the gold," he said bluntly. "We need the link with a great House if we're to survive the winter. The pirates have been too bold—even a long harvest won't save us without help."

"The Kingslayer, father? You truly wish to marry me to a man such as he?" Brienne's shoulders were stiff. She'd always known that she must marry, she was the only one left to inherit Tarth and it was her duty to provide future heirs. There had been some small hope, however, that she might have a say in the matter when the time came. Obviously, she had hoped in vain. She hadn't expected to be dazzled by choice, but the Kingslayer? After a lifetime of being taught to value honor, to judge a man by his deeds and not his words, was he really to be her fate?

Her father didn't mean it as an insult, and she knew the dire straits they were in, but Jaime Lannister's deeds had shown him for what he was long ago, and now her father was asking her to marry him.

He gave her a resigned look. "You must have honor enough for two."

She slumped. Even hunched over, she could look her father in the eye. She was aware, had always been aware, of her freakish stature and her unfortunate appearance. She was also aware of Jaime's rumored physical perfection.

What a farce.

"When?" she asked.

"As soon as he and his entourage arrive," her father replied. That seemed to settle the matter, though Brienne felt oddly shaken as she retreated to the waterfront. Tarth's famously blue waters glittered at her, but for once their charm brought her no joy.

The future Lady of Casterly Rock, she thought. The Seven are mocking me.

And so, she knew, would everyone else.