A/N- Just a note—I am a huge fan of the books and the show, and with this story, I kind of just ran with an AU idea—what if Jaime had gone to fight for an imprisoned Cersei's freedom? I definitely played fast and loose with some timelines and character threads— mostly to get all my favorite characters in the same place at the same time. :) Ships are Brienne/Jaime/Cersei triangle, and Sansa/Sandor. Hope you all enjoy!
Summons
Chapter One
BRIENNE
"You're so quiet tonight." Brienne stretched out her long legs, careful not to put her boots too close to the still-smoldering fire.
"I'm fine." Jaime shrugged, sitting back on his elbows and staring up at the clear night sky above them.
"You can just say it." Brienne lay back beside him, interlacing her fingers behind her head. "You're worried about her."
"I'm not." Jaime snapped. "She brought this on herself."
"What'd the letter say?" Brienne finally bridged the unspoken subject between them. A letter with his sister's seal had arrived with a raven last night, and Jaime had gone into the tent to read it. He hadn't said a word about it afterwards, but had been uncharacteristically quiet and moody ever since.
"Typical Cersei." Jaime muttered. "Empty words and false promises."
It was the first time Brienne had heard him say his sister's name in months. She had never really understood the nature of Jaime and Cersei's relationship, other than that it definitely ran deeper than a typical brother-sister bond. Brienne wasn't much for listening to idle gossip, but with the way he was acting, she couldn't help but be curious. He didn't seem like an angered sibling. He seemed more like a scorned lover. "Jaime?" Brienne's voice was soft, almost tentative.
Jaime turned to her with a small smile. "Yes, wench?" He suddenly looked much more like his usual self.
She growled at his offensive nickname for her and punched him in the arm, Jaime laughing even though it hurt.
"You're going to leave a bruise. Again." Jaime groaned, clutching his arm playfully.
"Oh, stop crying like a woman or I'll do it again." Brienne shook her head. "I'm trying to ask you something serious."
"I despise serious questions." Jaime wrinkled his finely formed nose.
"All the same. You must tell me. Are the rumors true?" Brienne finally spoke boldly.
"What rumors?" Jaime said flippantly.
"About you and the Queen."
A flicker of hurt and betrayal crossed his handsome features, but he tried to hide it with an expression of weary indifference. "Seven hells, not you too."
Brienne felt her cheeks flushing red, trying to keep her nerve. "Jaime, you're one of the only people I've ever called my friend. You've fought beside me." Her cheeks turned even brighter red. "You…you sleep beside me every night. There's no one I trust more than you. And after all this time…I think you owe me the truth."
Jaime looked right at her, considering her argument, his bright blue eyes locked on hers making her feel shaky and nervous.
"Fine." He said after what felt like an interminable silence. "Ask me anything, and I'll tell you the truth. What does it matter now? Soon they'll kill her. And no one will care anymore." He was trying to sound like he didn't care either, but she heard his voice hitch slightly in his throat.
Brienne felt sorry for him, but wasn't going to waste this opportunity. The subject of Cersei had seemed to hang heavier between them lately than it had before, and she wasn't entirely sure why. Ever since they had reunited, something had shifted between her and the Kingslayer, and it was growing harder for her to ignore the deep, quiet longing that she had kept inside for so long that it had become a familiar, painful, ache. Her feelings for Jaime had once seemed so ridiculous and one-sided that Brienne could privately laugh them off and scold herself for being such a fool, but now…now something was different. Something was different in him. Cersei's iron grip on his heart may not have been loosed, but it was weakened. Much like the queen herself. And it had been Jaime's choice to return to the life he and Brienne had grown very comfortable sharing.
"You were well away. Why come back?"
"I dreamed of you."
The memory of him saying those words to her had been Brienne's constant, secret companion in the nights they'd spent apart, while he had been back with his family, back with his sister. And now Brienne finally had him beside her, and what had been the first thing she'd done? Brought up Cersei.
Inwardly cursing herself for her clumsiness at such things, she decided she must continue on now that she had brought up the subject. "Her children."
"What about them?" Jaime asked darkly.
"They're all yours?"
"Yes." Jaime's voice was colder than Brienne had ever heard it as he went on. "She never let me hold them, or love them, or show them a shred of fatherly affection, but yes. They're all mine."
Brienne's plain features softened with concern, and Jaime was gratified to see that someone cared. And he found when she put his hand on his arm, he didn't mind it. "I'm so sorry, my dearest friend. A father should be with his children."
"I agree." Jaime shook his head furiously. "You don't understand. I gave up everything for her. I joined the Kingsguard for her when I was barely more than a child. I watched her marry another man, and tell me it was for the best. I spent a lifetime of hiding with her in the shadows, dreaming of her when we were apart, silently dedicating every victory to her name, while I served the man who claimed my children and bedded the woman I loved. She has been nothing but a torment to me since the day we were born." He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a weary breath. "I wish I could make you understand. How it feels…to be completely consumed by another person. Every thought, every dream, every moment…she's there."
"I do understand." Brienne said without thinking, instantly regretting her words. How could she say such a thing? What if he knew she was talking about him?
But Jaime didn't even seem to be listening, staring into the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes. "I'm so tired." He looked back to Brienne. "Any more questions?"
"What did the letter say?"
Jaime opened his fist, the crumpled letter hidden in his good hand all along. Brienne wondered if he had been carrying it with him ever since it had arrived.
"Read it yourself, if you're so bloody curious." He pitched the letter towards her, Brienne catching the ball of paper. "And then burn the damn thing." Jaime climbed to his feet, disappearing inside their tent.
Brienne read the letter before obediently pitching it into the fire, watching the paper curl and burn in the flames before it joined the ashes. She sat there in silence for a long moment before stamping out the smoldering remnants and following Jaime into the tent. He was already asleep, or at least pretending to be, and when Brienne lay down beside him, he didn't stir. She closed her eyes, Cersei's letter unfurling again in her mind, the queen's fervent desperation palpable and oddly pitiable.
Both Jaime and Brienne slept fitfully that night, never speaking but both haunted by the same words—
Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.
And while the presence of Jaime sleeping beside her filled her with a longing of which she would always be ashamed, Brienne tried again and again to remind herself that he was not, nor would ever be, longing for her. Jaime was a million miles away from her now, lost in the past, lost in his memories—
Lost in her.
JAIME
"It's a perfect day for a wedding."
Jaime woke up with a start at the sound of his sister's voice, gingerly sitting up in bed to see her standing at the window, holding back the fringed curtain with her pale hand.
"Couldn't you sleep?" He ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, his voice hoarse as it always was in the mornings.
"No." Cersei turned around to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "Nerves, I suppose." She crossed the room, stretching out her long, slender form across the foot of his bed, her smile widening. "By midnight tonight, I'll be your queen, dear brother."
"And all your life goals will have been achieved." Jaime shrugged.
"Hardly." Cersei snorted. "This is just the necessary first step."
"To what? World domination?"
"I'll take the seven kingdoms for now."
Jaime smiled, but it looked a little forced.
"What's wrong, brother?" Cersei reached out, her hand on his arm. "This marriage isn't just for me. It's for all of us. I'll have Robert reinstate you in the King's Guard. Tyrion can drink and whore all he wants with the girls in King's Landing, and no one will bother him about it. Father will command a royal army. The Lannister name will have the respect it deserves again."
"I know. I understand all of that." Jaime said shortly, heaving a huge sigh and lying down beside her at the foot of the bed.
"Then what's the matter?"
"It's just…everything will change now."
They looked at each other for a long moment, their chiseled, beautiful faces so eerily similar it was like looking into a mirror. Cersei's features softened slightly, understanding what he meant, moving her hand to his cheek. "We always knew this day would come."
"I don't want you to marry him." Jaime said quietly, knowing he sounded like a petulant child but not caring.
"You don't want me to marry anyone." Cersei reminded him with a small, sad smile. "But I must. It's just the way of it."
"The way of what?"
"Being a Lannister." She leaned forward, her lips gently brushing the skin right next to his mouth, Jaime's hand going to the small of her back, trying to hold her close, trying to stop her from leaving, but it was too late. Cersei pulled away from him, and in a brief rustling of gold silks and satins, she was gone.
"What are you doing skulking around in the shadows, brother?" Tyrion finally stumbled across a very despondent-looking Jaime at the wedding reception. "Every well-born lady in attendance tonight has been demanding to know your whereabouts. The festivities have them all in the wedding spirit, and they're just desperate to be the lucky girl who will someday become Mrs. Jaime Lannister. Or at least the lucky girl who gets to wrap her mouth around your cock."
Jaime grimaced, taking a long drink from his goblet of wine. "Not interested."
Tyrion shrugged. "Fine, fine. More for me." He looked up at his older brother. "You don't seem like your usual cheery self."
Jaime didn't respond right away, staring at Cersei seated beside Robert Baratheon at the head table. "Do you think she's happy? With him, I mean?"
"They've been married for two hours. It might be a bit soon to say." Tyrion chuckled. "But I mean, he's handsome. She's beautiful. What more could love require?"
"I'm serious." Jaime snapped. "I'm worried about her."
"Why?" Tyrion laughed. "This is all she's ever wanted, brother. Absolute power and all that."
"She doesn't love him." Jaime shook his head.
"Oh well." Tyrion shrugged. "Hardly the first loveless marriage to occur in the throne room."
"She can't love him." Jaime didn't seem to be listening to a word Tyrion was saying, his handsome features etched with misery as he watched his sister and the king accept congratulations from the lords and ladies of the court.
Tyrion looked up at his brother for a long moment before asking a simple question about which he'd long been curious. "How long?"
"How long what?" Jaime muttered distractedly, still not taking his eyes off Cersei.
"How long have you been in love with her?"
Jaime's face drained of color as he looked down at Tyrion with wide eyes of alarm. "I'm not…w-we're not…don't be ridiculous."
Tyrion leaned back against the wall. "Jaime."
There was a long silence where Tyrion just stared at him, willing the truth out of him, and finally Jaime let out a long sigh, leaning back against the wall next to his brother but refusing to look at him. "I never meant for any of this to happen."
"But it did."
"Yes." Jaime ran a hand through his hair, chancing a brief glance at his brother. "Since we were fourteen."
Tyrion didn't look as horrified as Jaime expected. He didn't even seem all that surprised. But then, he'd always been the smartest of the three siblings. Not much seemed to get past him. He mostly just looked sorry for his brother. "Was it her idea or yours?" Tyrion asked.
Jaime's brow furrowed with thought for a moment. "It was both of us. She and I…sometimes it's as though we have the same thought at the same moment."
"This particular thought being…"
"We were made for each other." Jaime said quietly. "I can't even imagine being with anyone else."
"But she can." Tyrion reminded him, nodding his head towards their newly married sister. "She's just like father. You know this. Practicality will always win out over the softer emotions for them."
Jaime closed his eyes tightly, Tyrion's heart twisting with sympathy when he saw tears slipping down his brother's cheeks. Tyrion reached out, his hand on his brother's arm. "Chin up, dear brother. The world is full of women, more beautiful than you can imagine. While you've been in the throes of a doomed love affair, I've been sampling all that the finest pleasure establishments in the Seven Kingdoms have to offer. And I think tonight, after the wedding, you should join me. Wander in my universe for a bit. I think you'll like it there." Tyrion grinned. "Though you probably won't remember much of it tomorrow."
Jaime didn't look too enthused. "I told you. I don't want to be with anyone else."
"Have you ever been with anyone else?" Tyrion countered.
"Well…no."
"You can't have an opinion on something until you've tried it, brother. Ignorance is not a solid basis for any decision."
Jaime sighed heavily, looking back up to Cersei and Robert. They were laughing about something, Cersei raising her goblet of wine in a toast to something Robert had just said in her ear. "Fine." Jaime said, so quietly Tyrion could barely hear him.
"Marvelous." Tyrion clapped his brother on the arm. "Then let's pay our respects and go. I have quite the night planned."
"I'm sure." Jaime laughed despite himself. It was very hard to stay in a bad mood around his little brother. Tyrion simply wouldn't allow it.
When the Lannister brothers entered the brothel, the whores and proprietors greeted Tyrion like an old, dear friend before all turning curiously towards his tall, handsome brother.
Jaime looked extremely uncomfortable under such scrutiny, staring down at the floor and sincerely wishing he were anywhere else. Well, other than his sister's wedding. Perhaps there was no place for him in King's Landing anymore, he thought glumly.
Tyrion stepped forward to whisper something in the ear of a pretty, topless blond girl, nodding his head towards his brother. The girl looked Jaime up and down, smiling and nodding as she accepted a handful of gold coins from Tyrion. She got to her feet, crossing to Jaime, her hands on his chest as she looked up at him, her eyes bright green and eerily like his sister's. "My lord," she purred. "Shall we go somewhere we can be alone?"
"What did my brother say to you?" Jaime asked, his voice uncharacteristically nervous.
"He said I should do whatever I can to help you get over a broken heart." She stood up on her toes, her lips nearly touching his. "Although I can't imagine what girl would be foolish enough to even let you out of her sight. I've never seen a man so handsome as you."
Jaime looked down at her, taking in her full, slightly parted lips and green eyes dark with desire, remembering the first time Cersei looked at him that way. He felt desire stirring within him at the memory, and leaned forward, kissing this strange girl but tasting the lips of another, the girl moaning with pleasure, crushing herself up against him as they stumbled back into a corner.
She looked slightly dazed when they broke apart a long while later, looking up at him with wonder. "Are you pretending I'm her? Is that the way you kiss the woman who broke your heart?"
"Does it offend you?"
"No, my lord. Certainly not." She breathed out. "Do it again." She pulled him backwards into a private room as they embraced, the girl closing the sheer red curtain behind them, guiding his hand between her legs, speaking with her lips against his ear. "Can't you feel it? Can't you feel what you're doing to me?"
When Jaime didn't reply, she pushed him down onto the bed in the corner, hurriedly undoing his trousers, kissing down his chest before taking him in her mouth, Jaime's breath catching in his throat at the dizzying rush of pleasure. He closed his eyes, and it didn't take long before he had fully given in to the fantasy, forgetting where he was entirely, crying out the name of the girl he really wanted—
"Cersei, sweet sister…" Jaime's hands clenched in the sheets as he finished with a sudden, shocking intensity.
Once his heartbeat slowed and his breathing returned to normal, he opened his eyes and reality crashed back down around him.
The whore got to her feet, clearing her throat and obviously trying to play it off as though she hadn't heard what he said. But she had heard. Jaime could tell by the look on her face. He sat up on the bed, horrified with what he had just done. Telling Tyrion was one thing, but a total stranger knowing his secret was unthinkable. What if she told someone? "I didn't...I mean, when I said…" he stammered, unable to formulate a suitable explanation for his behavior.
"It's all right, my lord." The girl shrugged, seeing no point in continuing the charade when he clearly knew she'd heard. "It's not every day I get asked to play the queen. I'm flattered, actually. She's such a beauty. Just like you."
"You won't tell anyone?" Jaime breathed out, hastily doing his trousers back up.
"Of course not, sir. I wouldn't last long in this business if I hadn't learned to be discreet."
Jaime just gave her a curt nod, getting to his feet and leaving a few more gold coins on the table before he left in a hurry, ignoring Tyrion's words of protest as he walked out of the brothel and closed the front door hard behind him.
The girl remained in the private room for a moment, pulling her blond curls over her shoulder and examining her reflection in the mirror, feeling the rare shock of demented novelty. She thought she'd fielded every request possible, but being asked to play a man's twin sister was definitely a first.
Oh well. She'd often found that the richer the man, the stranger the sexual appetite. And the Lannisters were the richest men of them all. She counted the gold coins he'd left behind, thinking that if this was the going rate for fulfilling Jaime Lannister's fantasies, she was more than up to the task.
Jaime stood at the foot of the castle, looking up to the bedroom window where he knew his newly married sister was presently fucking the king of the realm. His hands itched for his sword, lost in the very pleasurable fantasy of running Robert through with the blade. Or chopping his head off. Or maybe he would start with his knees and work his way up. He was the Kingslayer after all. Perhaps the time had come to slay another.
But killing Robert wouldn't ensure Cersei's love. He knew this. Nothing would. If she didn't feel the same, he would just have to learn to live with it. Jaime stared up at the window miserably, trying to tell himself that an honorable man would just let her go. She was another man's wife. She had made her choice.
It was over.
Jaime walked away from the castle, blinking back the hot sting of tears, unaware that just as he was resolving to walk away forever from the woman he loved, Robert Baratheon was calling out the name of another, the lost love he dreamed of every night…
"Lyanna…"
Two Months Later
"Well, brother? Have you missed the stink of the city?" Tyrion smiled at his brother as they rode back into King's Landing together. They had left for an extended hunting trip the day after their sister's wedding, and Tyrion was glad to see that Jaime seemed in remarkably higher spirits after their time spent away.
"I can't say that I have, no." Jaime wrinkled his nose slightly as they passed a beggar man pissing in the streets. "I was actually beginning to grow very fond of the country."
"We'll go again. Soon." Tyrion assured him as they rode up to the castle stables. Now that a Lannister was seated beside the king, their entire family had been given sizeable living quarters within the castle itself.
As they were tethering their horses by the fountain for a drink, Jaime suddenly stopped, noticing Cersei standing in the castle doorway in a shimmering green and gold dress, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched him, her expression etched with such sadness that Jaime could practically feel her misery in his bones.
Tyrion followed his brother's gaze when Jaime fell silent and still, and when he saw the shared look between his brother and sister, he suddenly felt as though he was intruding on something never meant to be seen. The longing between them was almost unbearably painful even just to witness for a moment, both Jaime and Cersei looking close to tears before a single word had even passed between them.
Finally, Tyrion could stand the silence no longer. "Beloved sister. You're looking well."
It was a blatant lie. Cersei looked pale and thin, as if she had recently fallen ill. Or as if something vital had recently been ripped away from her.
Cersei pressed her lips together hard for a moment before speaking, her voice quiet and practically trembling. "Where have you been?"
She was clearly addressing the question to Jaime, but he seemed in no state to answer, so Tyrion took the liberty. "We went on a hunting trip."
"You left no word…with father, with anyone…" Cersei shook her head in disbelief.
"We thought you would be too distracted by your newfound wedded bliss to even notice our absence." Tyrion shrugged.
"Leave us." Cersei finally did address Tyrion directly.
"Oh, I see. Now that you're the queen, you think you can command me like I'm one of your subjects?" Tyrion raised his eyebrows with a grin.
"You are one of my subjects. And not a particularly high-ranking one at that." Cersei said sharply. "Leave. Us."
Tyrion shot Jaime a look, trying to discern if his brother would want him to go or stay, but Jaime just looked stricken, as though seeing his sister again was akin to being hit with a physical blow. They had never willingly spent more than a day apart before her wedding. Inseparable, even as infants. Their nursemaid had once told their father that the newborn Cersei and Jaime would cry hysterically if they were even put in separate beds within the same room.
And now, two months had passed where she had not known if her twin brother, her other half, was alive or dead, two months of absolute misery with her boorish husband who had made it perfectly clear to Cersei that he would always love another.
When Tyrion finally decided to leave them alone, there was a long moment of silence in the courtyard, the sound of the horses drinking their fill from the fountain and birds crying out to each other in the trees overhead seeming to fade away into nothingness as Cersei stepped towards her brother, wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. Jaime closed his eyes, slipping back into the universe where only they existed, a place that, only moments ago, he'd convinced himself was lost forever.
"You'll never leave me again," she finally spoke, her voice barely more than a tearful whisper but still clearly issuing a royal command. Jaime's hands tightened on her back as he gave her a simple reply, just one word—"Never,", both of the Lannister twins breaking down in tears, of relief, of exhaustion, of everything they'd been keeping inside for so long, their bodies now so closely intertwined it felt as though they could disappear inside each other at any moment and become one whole person at last.
BRIENNE
When she woke up the next morning, Brienne was alone in the tent. She stretched her powerful arms above her head before attempting to smooth her blond hair back behind her ears. It had grown annoyingly long, now falling past her chin, and it felt as though she was forever battling to keep it off her face.
Her mother had died when she was very young and so had never shown her how to do any of the complicated braids and twists that other women employed. Brienne had always kept her pale, lank hair as short as possible, mostly to lessen her annoyance with having hair at all. She'd often thought of just hacking it all off, as Jaime had done when she had first met him. She knew she was likely in the minority, but she had preferred him the way he'd looked after being in captivity, bald and bloody and fearsome. He looked more like a warrior and less like the storybook prince he resembled now that his tumble of golden curls had grown back in and the scars from his shackles had faded to thin white lines across his wrists, ankles, and neck. She'd counted his scars once while he slept. Sixteen. Sixteen imperfections on an otherwise flawless canvas.
It didn't make any sense—she'd always been a mess of scars and bruises from either training for wars or fighting in them, but Jaime, who'd been a knight since before Brienne was even born, hardly had any marks to show for his achievements. Sometimes he looked as though he was made of marble rather than skin and bones. It seemed unfair to Brienne that the seven gods should give so many gifts to one man. He was rich beyond imagining. He was undeniably attractive, known as the handsomest man in seven kingdoms. He'd always been naturally skilled in combat. And though she would never tell him this, Brienne thought he was rather quick-witted for his sex.
She heard the sound of his sword slicing through the air outside. He was practicing. He couldn't properly hold his sword with his new gold-and-pearl false hand, so he'd forced himself to become just as capable with his left hand as he had once been with his right. He always woke obscenely early to practice, and Brienne rather had the notion that he didn't like her knowing how hard he had to push himself to become the swordsman he once was.
Brienne opened the flap of the tent, finding a spectacularly blazing sun beating down on Jaime, sword in his left hand, wearing only his breeches as he feinted and parried with an imaginary opponent.
"My good sir." Brienne called to him, startling him as she walked out of the tent. "You seem to have forgotten your boots. And armor."
Jaime turned to face her, his tanned, muscled chest heaving up and down as he caught his breath. "I'm communing with nature, my good lady. What's wrong? You'd prefer I forget my breeches as well?" He started to unlace the top of his pants with a playful smile on his face. "Swordplay does always make me want to do very bad things…preferably without clothes…"
"No. Stop." She said, blushing furiously.
"Whatever for?" Jaime raised a suggestive eyebrow.
Brienne cleared her throat, trying to recover some dignity. "I just…I just think it'd be a bit dangerous to leave your manhood so exposed when my sword is so very sharp."
Jaime laughed out loud, before relacing his breeches obediently. "Fine, fine."
"So where to next?" Brienne grinned, leaning back against a nearby tree.
"King's Landing." Jaime said casually, sheathing his sword.
"What?" She blinked with surprise.
"I've decided I am going after all. Heartless bitch or no, I can't just let them kill my sister." Jaime shrugged, too tired to play coy about his relationship with Cersei any longer. He was finding it enjoyable to joke around about her. It was nice to pretend for a moment that she meant nothing to him. That he didn't care. "I'll go. Win her freedom. Maybe have one last fuck, for old time's sake. Then run her through with a sword myself. Doesn't it sound poetic? The Kingslayer murders the Wicked Queen. I rather like that. Besides, if anyone's killing Cersei, it's me. Gods know I've earned the right."
Brienne gave him a skeptical look. "So…we're saving her so you can fuck and kill her?"
"No. I'm saving her so I can fuck and kill her." Jaime corrected her. "You do whatever you like."
She considered him for a moment before letting out a long sigh. "You know I'll go with you."
"I hoped so." Jaime smiled brightly.
"But I don't think you really will kill her."
"No? Then you don't know me as well as you think. It's actually given me great pleasure to imagine plunging my sword right between her perfect breasts when we meet again." Jaime ran his tongue over his teeth as if savoring the image. "Why do you think I've been practicing all morning? It will take quite a bit of willpower to ruin something so lovely." He looked oddly thoughtful for a moment. "One way to find out if I have the nerve, I suppose."
Brienne shook her head. "You have the nerve for everything else, but not killing her."
"Spar with me." Jaime said abruptly.
She seemed surprised but didn't protest the sudden change of subject, retrieving her sword with a smile. This was how she Jaime communicated best—steel to steel. "Shall I change hands as well? I wouldn't want to take advantage of your weakened condition."
Jaime rolled his eyes, taking a mighty swing towards her head, Brienne blocking the blow at the last possible instant. Their swords met with such a resounding clang that birds scattered from the trees overhead, Brienne and Jaime smiling gleefully at each other. They would do this all day, every day, if they could.
She managed to push him off with just the force of her sword against his, and the battle continued.
"Gods, you're strong for a girl." Jaime grunted, trying to reverse the momentum of the fight even as Brienne backed him into a tree.
"You sound surprised every time." She said through gritted teeth, lunging forward, Jaime barely blocking her move. "I really thought you'd be used to losing by now."
"Who's losing?" He smiled, somehow managing to look charmingly arrogant drenched in sweat and backed into a corner by a female opponent. He pushed hard off of the tree with his foot, and Brienne stumbled slightly trying to shuffle in the other direction, and the fight was back in full force.
Eventually, it became clear that Jaime had been practicing tirelessly with his weaker hand and their skills were still so evenly matched that this round would just come down to a test of endurance, which had never been Jaime's strength. He could feel his arm growing tired already, whereas Brienne was still swinging at him like a lumberjack, each blow landing with just as much power as they had in the beginning. She wasn't as fast or agile as Jaime, but her strength held out longer, it always had. He needed to think of something fast to end the battle in his favor, or Brienne would never let him live this down. He couldn't lose his first left-handed match against a worthy opponent. Surely his fight in King's Landing would be against some kind of overgrown behemoth chosen by the Faith. He couldn't let a woman beat him before he faced down the monster of the church's choosing—it would throw his confidence off, and the Jaime knew he couldn't win a fight if he went into the arena doubting himself.
Brienne took advantage of his obvious distraction and suddenly pulled him into her, kneeing him hard in the stomach, cleanly knocking the air out of his lungs as she disarmed him. He slumped against her for a moment, and he felt her mouth against his ear, her voice quiet but commanding. "You must learn to focus, Kingslayer."
"I..I don't need combat instruction from a child…" Jaime practically wheezed. "I was winning battles while you were sucking on your mother's breast."
"I'm not a child." She growled, bodily heaving a still-dazed Jaime to the ground, climbing on top of him, the side of her sword poised at his throat. "Yield."
"Never." Jaime looked up at her through bleary eyes. He may be disoriented but he still had his pride.
"Yield." Brienne repeated fiercely, pressing the sword harder until it punctured his skin, a thin trickle of blood dripping down his neck.
Jaime sat up slightly and seized her arms, pulling her towards him, the sword cutting deeper into his skin. No one ever gotten this close to killing him. It was oddly exhilarating. He looked up at Brienne, her dark blue eyes actually very pretty up this close. She wasn't pulling back, but she looked terrified. She had a sword to his throat, and he was making her nervous. Jaime decided to push his advantage. He leaned closer to her, his voice low. "Do it. Kill me. Make everyone's lives a hell of a lot easier. Cersei will rot for her sins, like she deserves. My brother will be free of us both at last. And with me gone, you'll be the greatest swordsman in seven kingdoms—"
He never got to finish his speech, simply because he could no longer speak with Brienne's mouth crushed against his. Jaime was too stunned to react for a moment, vaguely relieved to hear her sword clatter to the ground beside them. Now she was clutching his face in her hands with that strong grip as she kissed him, hard and passionate, so unabashedly clear in her intentions. She was kissing him because she wanted him. That was it. Whenever Cersei kissed him, there was always a catch. I'll do this, if you'll do something for me. I'll kiss you to get my way or win an argument. It was never like this. It was never simple.
And for a moment, simple was what he wanted, a welcome respite from the torture and pain he'd endured at the hands of love thus far. Jaime closed his eyes and kissed her back, finding it surprisingly pleasurable when Brienne made a small sound as he parted her lips with his. She tasted completely different than Cersei. Cersei's lips were full and soft, and she always tasted of honey and cloves. Brienne's lips were slightly chapped from the heat, and she tasted salty and earthy and…real. She employed no tricks to make herself desirable, and Jaime rather liked it. He wondered— had she ever kissed anyone like this? Had she ever kissed anyone at all?
Well, if she hadn't, she was learning fast, rolling onto her back and pulling him forcefully with her, Jaime on top of her as they kissed, his hand sliding under her thin shirt and going to her breast, finding himself growing hard as he felt her nipple raised and erect against his palm. He'd never really given Brienne's breasts much thought before now, except to make some kind of cruel joke about how small they were, but now that they were in his hands, he was finding the truth in something Tyrion had once told him. Breasts are breasts. And perfect breasts are usually attached to very cruel women.
Brienne was shoving her own breeches down and unlacing his before Jaime even really knew what was happening. Maybe he had been wrong about her. She'd always seemed so shy and embarrassed when he made any kind of reference to fucking, but this was not the way of a blushing virgin. She sat back on one elbow, arching her hips up and guiding him inside her, Jaime groaning against her neck as he thrust into her for the first time. Brienne's hand tangled in his hair, her lips pressed against his ear again, her next words making him so hard he thought he was going to explode.
"You can do better than that."
Jaime growled, pinning her arms over her head on the ground, kissing her this time instead of just letting himself be kissed, Brienne seemingly amused by something, smiling against his mouth as Jaime moved inside her again, her smile fading and breath quickening as he finally fucked her so hard that she drew blood when she bit down on his shoulder at the moment of release.
Afterwards, Jaime pulled back to look at her, finding Brienne staring up at him, her cheeks flushed and her expression stunned. He reached down almost tentatively, smoothing a sweaty strand of blond hair back off her face.
"Well…I've never done that with any of my other sparring partners." Jaime grinned.
"Shh. Don't ruin it." Her voice sounded different than he had ever heard it, quiet and gentle. She reached up, her thumb resting on his mouth. "You don't have to laugh at everything, you know."
"Apologies, my lady." Jaime swallowed hard, suddenly feeling much more exposed than he had while they were fucking. She was looking at him so intently, her big blue eyes so full of affection and understanding that Jaime suddenly realized why he was scared. In that moment, and possibly for many moments before that had passed him by unseen, she knew him, truly knew him, perhaps in a way no one else ever had.
There was a long moment between them, until Brienne seemed to grow nervous as well. She pressed her lips together before patting his shoulder. "We should go. You…you have a sister to save."
"Right." Jaime climbed off of her, pulling back on what little clothes he had been wearing as Brienne got redressed as well, turning away from him, blushing again, seeming as shy and reserved as ever. It was like she'd been momentarily possessed, Jaime thought with a small smile, looking where her precious sword had been tossed so carelessly aside in the woods.
He wondered if that particular carnal impulse would ever overtake her again. Jaime had no idea how he had coaxed it out of her, so he had very little idea how to do it again, but he sincerely hoped he would stumble across the answer sometime during the rest of their journey. It had been so long since he'd been with a woman, and his relationship with Cersei seemed so hopelessly strained, that Jaime had done everything in his power to just shut off that part of himself completely. Like those smug Night Watchmen. Or that soft-handed eunuch from the council.
But clearly Jaime Lannister was not meant for the black, or lopping his balls off. He had never been entirely sure what he was meant for, but he did now know that ending his days in the arms of a woman had to be part of the equation.
It felt like Brienne had just brought him back to life. Now he just had to figure out what to do with that life.
He finished getting dressed, resheathing his sword and turning to Brienne, who was packing up their tent.
"Brienne." He spoke suddenly.
She looked up with surprise. They so rarely called each other by their given names that the sound caught her off guard. "Jaime?" She returned the favor.
"What do you think I should do?" He hoped she understood the question when he wasn't even certain what exactly he was asking.
"Make things right with your family." Brienne finished packing up their things, tossing him his heavy bag as if it weighed nothing. "All of them."
Two Weeks Later
CERSEI
"You have a visitor, Your Grace."
At the sound of her Royal Guard's voice, Cersei didn't turn to see who had come, just clutching the bars in her window more tightly. "I told you, I don't want to see anyone. They've already taken everything away from me. Soon they'll take my life. What more do they want?"
"A little appreciation, for starters."
Cersei turned around, her eyes filling with tears immediately at the sight of her brother. "Jaime." She breathed out. "I knew you'd come."
The guard looked nervously between the Lannisters. "Shall I go, Your Grace?"
"No. Stay." Jaime said sharply to the guard. "This won't take long."
"I wouldn't think so. Not after all this time." Cersei smirked, stepping towards him. "But I didn't know you'd become such an exhibitionist, dear brother."
"Be quiet and listen to me." Jaime caught his sister by the arms, holding her out at a respectable, sibling-like distance. "I'll be your Champion. I'll fight for you. But I have a condition."
"Anything." She purred, her hands sliding up his chest.
"I happen to know our little brother is traveling near King's Landing with his wife. You will write to him, a letter even more heartfelt than the impassioned plea you sent my way. You will tell him you are so very sorry for accusing him of murdering Joffrey, and that you know you were wrong. You will invite both him and Sansa to a dinner here at the palace upon the time of your release where you will properly apologize in person."
"You can't be serious." Cersei looked horrified at the idea of having to face up to any more of her past sins.
"It's that or certain death, dear sister." Jaime shrugged. "If I'm going through all of this trouble, you're doing something for me. I'm not saving you so you can go prancing through the kingdoms spreading more lies about Tyrion."
"Why are you so worried about Tyrion?" Cersei snapped. "Or have you forgotten which sibling regularly fucks you?"
The guard looked so uncomfortable Jaime thought he might start crawling the walls if they didn't let him leave. Jaime decided to be kind, signaling for him to go before turning back to Cersei once they were alone. "You haven't fucked me in years. You don't have that card to play anymore. Sorry."
"But I will. Once I'm free." Cersei promised him fervently. "I'll be yours, only yours. We can have more children. We can leave this horrible place, take our rightful thrones at Casterly Rock together, where we belong. We can rule together, just like you always wanted…" she leaned in to kiss him, but Jaime looked down at the last moment.
But he didn't pull away like before. She sensed something shift in him, a change that would be imperceptible to everyone but her. But she felt it, when she'd promised him the future he'd always begged for. He still wanted her...maybe even still loved her. He wanted to give in.
Jaime reached out to her, his hand resting on her smooth cheek, their foreheads touching. He breathed her in for a moment, and Cersei smiled triumphantly, tilting her chin up to be kissed. He wouldn't make her do this crazy thing. He'd save her, and they'd be together at last. But just when she was starting to truly think she'd won—
"Write the letter." He stepped away from her, looking as if he was mentally trying to shake himself out of some kind of stupor. "And if I'm not satisfied with what you've written…I'll be in the crowd cheering when they hand the Septon your head."
Jaime left a stunned Cersei alone in her prison cell, passing by the guard who was clearly trying to pretend like he hadn't been listening. "When you tell the story to all your little friends in armor, you can say I fucked her." Jaime muttered under his breath. "My brother tells me palace gossip has grown a little stale."
"Why? Why do so much for the Imp?" The guard asked curiously.
"He's my little brother." Jaime said simply. "And he hates that name. Don't ever use it again."
"Yes, my lord." The guard nodded nervously, thinking that if he wasn't careful, one or both of the Lannisters was going to put him to death before the end of this.
TYRION
"What troubles you, wife?" Tyrion found Sansa sitting on the edge of the bed in their current inn lodgings, looking more distraught than he'd ever seen her. Tyrion pressed a kiss against her hand, sitting beside her and awaiting her answer.
"There was a letter for you." Sansa said softly.
"Oh, yes? From who?"
"Your sister."
Tyrion's brow furrowed with confusion. "Haven't they killed her yet?"
"Apparently not. She's invited us to dinner. To apologize."
"Apologize? What, to you, for years of tyrannical abuse?" Tyrion laughed.
"No. To you, for wrongly accusing you of murdering her son."
Tyrion had no clever retort to this. He wearily rubbed his forehead, and Sansa could practically hear the wheels in his formidable mind turning. "Jaime's put her up to this. In exchange for her freedom." Tyrion said at last.
"So we're not going?" Sansa asked him, looking relieved.
"I have half a mind to go. Just out of morbid curiosity."
Sansa shook her head, clearly outraged. "I can't believe you'd make me go back there."
"You don't feel safe with me, my pet?" Tyrion said with mock offense.
"The Hound." Sansa said suddenly.
"I'm sorry?"
"Bring me the Hound, as my personal guard, and I'll go with you to King's Landing."
Tyrion sighed, looking at her with that almost fatherly expression that always infuriated her. "Most believe the man to be dead, my dear."
"He's not." Sansa said quickly, not daring to voice her next thought, never wanting to give any clue that could reveal her most closely guarded secret. If he was dead, I would know it.
Tyrion ran a hand through his hair. "If I can find him, you'll come with me."
"Yes."
"Then I'll find him. The thought of my sister being forced to grovel at my feet is just too appealing."
"I do not understand why you still care what they think about you." Sansa shook her head.
"They're my family. Even after everything, they're still my family." Tyrion said, surprised to find himself feeling defensive of Jaime and even Cersei. "We can't all gather around the fire every night and sing songs of the North like the Starks."
Sansa looked at him, her eyes flashing with anger. For a moment, Tyrion thought she was going to slap him. But she didn't. His young wife managed to suppress her emotions as always, but when she spoke, her voice was colder and harder than Tyrion had ever heard it. "Don't ever talk about my family again." She rose to her feet, smoothing down her sky blue dress and leaving the room without another word, closing the door hard behind her. Tyrion sighed, falling back on the bed and suddenly feeling very old indeed.
A/N- Until chapter two—unofficially titled the Dinner Party From Hell. Cersei finds out about Jaime and Brienne, Sansa gets her Hound back, and Tyrion can't seem to escape his past…reviews=love!