Long Summary: Try this for a deep, dark secret: the great detective, Jaime Lannister? He doesn't exist. I invented him. Follow. I always loved excitement, so I studied, and apprenticed, and put my name on an office. But absolutely nobody knocked down my door. Apparently, a freakishly tall, ugly woman was nobody's idea of a private investigator! So I invented a superior. A decidedly HANDSOME and MASCULINE superior. Suddenly there were cases around the block. It was working like a charm... until the day HE walked in, with his green eyes and mysterious past. And before I knew it, he assumed Jaime Lannister's identity. Now I do the work, and he takes the bows. It's a dangerous way to live, but as long as people buy it, I can get the job done. We never mix business with pleasure. Well, almost never. I don't even know his real name!


A/N1: For Mikki, Quinn, alors, Lena G, coraleeveritas, currawong, coolhandjennie, and everyone else over at the J/B Online forum who wanted a Remington Steel AU. Here it is…with an ASOIAF tone…I guess…I still hate all of you and your fluffy little plot bunnies, too.

A/N2: With many fond memories, much love and huge respect for Remington Steele (the show) as well as Pierce Brosnan and Stephanie Zimbalist. Thanks for giving me some of the best television of my life!

Disclaimers: I, obviously, own nothing in these fandoms. No copyright infringement is intended and I'm just taking the characters of ASOIAF and the universe of Remington Steele out for a party. I'll return them, mostly unscathed...;D OH - and the summary is totally from Remington Steele so I don't own that either! :D

Warnings: Ummm…do you have to warn for 'fuck' these days? And I suppose I should, as always, warn for ASOIAF canon-level coarse language. Not your 1980s Remington Steele... ;)

For J/B Appreciation Week 2016; Day's theme: Betrayal

Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.


Teaser

From the television, the narrator's calm baritone floats through the living room.

"King Jaime I Lannister and his queen, Brienne I of Tarth, were the last to take the Westeros Throne in the Year of the Six Monarchs and are the only co-rulers in Westeros history to govern the realm without the situation devolving into civil war. The current monarchy and most of the existing nobility can trace their lineage back to the first Lannister King and his Queen. But while they are confirmed historical figures, no physical evidence about them has ever been found—until now.

Last month, a double tomb was discovered bearing their names above the titles of Goldenhand the Just and Brienne the Beauty. Who knows what secrets will be revealed about the Age of Magic and its end once excavations are complete?"

"Come here and watch this," calls the bald, fat man overflowing the overstuffed armchair.

A golden-haired man strolls into the room, smoothing the right sleeve of his shirt over the wrist of an artificial hand of glimmering gold. He raises an eyebrow at the man in the chair, who gives him an irritated glare, then turns his attention to the television, where the scene has switched to a bright-eyed, overly energetic reporter smiling professionally at the camera. Behind her is an intense-looking group of people bustling to and fro.

"That documentary aired six months ago," the woman happily chirps, "and now the National History Museum is about to open its doors on a new exhibit of artifacts from the Age of Magic, including those recently recovered from the tomb of the first Lannister King and his Queen. With me is Exhibit Director, Dr. Pia Peckledon."

A lovely brunette woman appears on the reporter's left, impeccably dressed and not a hair out of place. The Exhibit Director smiles charmingly at the camera before turning her lovely eyes on the reporter.

"There's a lot of excited buzz around this exhibit, Dr. Peckledon," the reporter burbles. "What can you tell us about it?"

"Well, Lysa, the artifacts recovered from the tomb and the surrounding area were absolutely remarkable! And priceless—both in terms of monetary and historical value. It's the most significant find since the cellars of the Red Keep!" Dr. Peckledon looks like it's all she can do to stop herself from bouncing up and down with glee. "We've combined the artifacts found in the location with others we already had in our collection from the Age of Magic, and we believe everyone—even if you don't believe magic ever existed!—will learn something and enjoy the exhibit."

"This exhibit has been three years in the planning, with discoveries from the tomb added at the last minute, delaying the opening by several months," Lysa continues. "Security has been a high priority to the museum and joining us now is Ms Bronna Stokeworth of Jaime Lannister Investigations. Ms Stokeworth, what can you tell us about the security measures put in place here today?"

Bronna smiles and says, "I can't tell you much, Lysa, but I can assure you that the highest possible standards have been used, supported by the most sophisticated technology available."

"Is Mr. Lannister here today?"

"As everyone knows, Mr. Lannister seldom makes public appearances however, his most trusted associate, Ms Brienne Tarth, will be happy to answer any questions you may have."

The reporter's smile becomes strained as Bronna yanks a tall, square-shaped blonde woman into view and the camera wobbles as the person wielding it hastily adjusts to fit them all into frame.

The man in the armchair laughs while the golden-haired man's eyes narrow as he focuses his attention on the new woman.

Besides being at least a foot taller than the reporter, Brienne Tarth also has the kind of looks that, as the saying goes, are best suited for radio. The bright light of the camera does nothing to hide any of her flaws. Her straw-like hair hangs to her shoulders and is not brushed quite as smooth as the other ladies'. Her suit, while tailored well, did little to hide the breadth of her shoulders but did hide any hint of feminine curves she might have possessed. She's pale and freckled with a nose that's been broken at least once and lips that are slightly too plump to be attractive, even while twisted into a scowl as she glares at Bronna—although she quickly smooths her features into an expressionless mask when she looks at Lysa and Dr. Peckledon.

"Mr. Lannister, as you know, Lysa, is living in seclusion on the Summer Isles," she says. "Which doesn't mean he doesn't keep close tabs over our work! He has a reputation to uphold, after all. He is fully aware and has given his personal seal of approval to all of the security measures and systems we've implemented for this exhibit." She looks and sounds both competent and profoundly awkward at the same time, but when she turns and looks at the camera, her eyes—large and blue and as guileless as a child's—makes the golden-haired man pause as he's pulling on his tuxedo jacket.

"What do you think?" the man in the chair asks.

"She's not really dressed for a gala event," the golden-haired man murmurs mildly as he pulls his jacket over his shoulders, adjusts his cufflinks and straightens his bow tie before checking his appearance in the mirror. He lightly smooths a stray hair back into place.

"Forget the clothes," the fat bald man says, sitting in his armchair like a bloated, overfed spider. "Jaime Lannister is the best at what he does and only hires the best to work for him. Can you do the job?"

The handsome man turns, his green eyes cool, his smile sharp. "Like taking candy from a baby," he says and walks out the door.

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