A/N1: I'VE FINISHED MY NOVEL, you guys, and it's now available for pre-order on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple (I think), and Smashwords. I'M SO EXCITED! If anybody's interested, I've put the title in my profile and there's supposed to be some of it available as a preview. *does happy dance because DONE DONE DONE!*
One
They're met at the airport by a handsome Dothraki man, his black hair worn in the ancient Dothraki tradition of a single long braid with bells woven into it. He introduces himself as Drogo, Maester Marwyn's guide and local fixer before the Maester disappeared from the dig site.
"Maester Aemon asked me to meet you," Drogo explains, his voice deep and only slightly accented. "I am to be your guide and fixer as well, during your time here."
Brienne nods as they follow him outside into the dry heat of the day. "Did Maester Marwyn give any indication he wanted to leave the dig site?"
"None," Drogo says as they approach a rugged all-terrain land rover. "If I had known he was planning on leaving, I would have gone with him." He gives them a steady look as he unlocks the vehicle. "Visitors do not simply roam the Dothraki Sea on their own."
Jaime raises an eyebrow as they clamber inside. "I thought this was a relatively safe part of the world?" he says as Drogo drives out of the parking lot. "I haven't heard of any kidnappings in years."
"True; but just because the Dothraki are no longer the marauding hordes they were in the past does not change geography. The Dothraki Sea is still a vast expanse of grassland with little water and even fewer settlements. Traversing it is not for the faint of heart."
"Are you saying that Maester Marwyn left the dig on foot?" Brienne says, her voice sharp.
"None of the vehicles were gone when we discovered his absence," Drogo says.
"Yet it's taken four weeks for Maester Aemon to become alarmed?"
Drogo's smile is sharp and fleeting. "I cannot speak for Maester Aemon, but I have known Maester Marwyn for many years now. The Dothraki Sea is not for the faint of heart, but that does not describe the Maester. He has spent more time here than any other Westerosi in living memory, and has roamed back and forth across the Sea more often than even the khalasars of legend. If he chose to leave on foot, I have no doubt he would reach his destination...if he remembered what that may be."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"Maester Marwyn is a brilliant scholar and an experienced explorer, but he is also the very picture of the absent-minded Maester. He does not need me to keep him safe; he needs me to remind him of where he is going and why."
*/*/*/*/*
The Dig Director meets them at the car.
"I'm Missandei," she says, shaking their hands. "I'll take you to your tents so you can freshen up."
They stroll along with her, and Brienne looks around her with avid curiosity.
This is a much larger operation than the dig on Driftmark, with scores of people scurrying round the small tent city that has sprung up on the treeless plains and foothills leading to the Mother of Mountains, looming in the distance.
Missandei notices her expression and smiles. "This is the largest dig ever attempted in this part of the world," she says with a hint of pride. "The finds we're making will rewrite the history of the Dothraki people."
Brienne nods, scanning the crowds, seeing several teams sifting through debris on a sieve in one quarter of the camp, while another quarter is packed with tables covered in neat rows of what looks like clay artifacts interspersed with the occasional flash of gold. Scores of people are bent over those tables, taking photographs, making drawings, and writing notes.
Missandei's smile grows wider. "I'll give you a tour once you've freshened up and put your things away in your tents. Don't worry about the safety of your belongings; we've hired a private security firm to ensure the camp is perfectly secure."
"Oh?" Jaime says, his own eyes brightly curious as he, too, scans the activities of the camp. "Which security firm?"
"Bitterbridge," Missandei says and Brienne stops in mid-stride.
Jaime and Missandei take several more steps before realizing she's no longer beside them. They stop and turn.
"They come highly recommended," Missendei says with a puzzled note in her voice.
Brienne forces a professional smile. "Yes," she says as she starts walking again, "I've heard of them."
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime watches Brienne with confused fascination as Missandei shows them around the dig site. Brienne's as nervous as a cat, peering suspiciously at each new group of people they approach, relaxing only once she sees all of their faces.
He listens to the Dig Director with only half an ear while he watches Brienne and amuses himself with trying to determine the reasons for Brienne's behaviour: a business rival she once beat out for a lucrative case? A former business relationship that ended badly? A former lover?
Jealousy sparks his blood at the last thought before he catches himself. He of all people has no right to be jealous of anything she might have done before their first kiss.
He returns his attention to Missandei.
"...evidence of the Great Burning in the form of an ash deposit throughout the Dothraki Sea, but here we've found the charred remains of a city. Whatever happened here was hot enough to melt gold! It's the only such location we've found in the region, and the only place in the world with melted gold."
"And that's why you think this may be Vaes Dothrak?"
Missandei nods. "The legends say it was burned to the ground by dragons as they defended the last Dragon Queen."
"If you can believe the legends," a new voice says behind them, and Jaime notices Brienne's hissed intake of breath and her stiff shoulders before she, too, turns to look at the newcomer.
He's a husky, red-haired man, who smiles at Jaime and Missandei before raking contemptuous eyes over Brienne and dismissing her. He holds out his hand. "I'm Ronnet Connington; it's a true honour to meet the Great Detective Jaime Lannister at long last."
Jaime raises an eyebrow as he shakes Connington's hand with his left one, and says, "Thank you. This is my associate—"
"Oh, Brienne and I go way back," Ronnet says, and flicks his eyes over her once more. "I see you haven't changed."
She flushes a deep, dark red, and Jaime's eyebrows shoot up.
"Nor have you," Brienne growls and Ronnet's smile is as patronizing as it is amused.
He turns back to Jaime. "I understand you're here to find Maester Marwyn."
"Yes," Jaime says.
"Then you'll have to work through me and my men. Follow me."
*/*/*/*/*
To Brienne's horror, they're all there: Mark Mullendore; Big Ben Bushy; Richard Farrow and Edmund Ambrose, Raymond Nayland and Will Stork; Harry Sawyer and Robin Potter. Lording over all of them, puffed up as if he actually has something to be proud about, is Ronnet Connington.
Just when she thought she never had to deal with these assholes again, she thinks bitterly, and this time it will be in front of Jaime.
Speaking of Jaime, the men are fawning over him, clapping him on the back and treating him as if he's one of them, instead of one of hers. It doesn't help she's been all but literally shoved to the side as they crowd around their new hero, asking him about cases she solved long before Jaime appeared on the scene.
Jaime, as usual, is glib and charming, sidestepping questions he can't or doesn't want to answer, but she sees the question in his eyes whenever he glances her way. She stands, arms crossed tight across her chest, and watches everything with a glower on her face.
"This is all very entertaining, gentlemen," Jaime finally says with another searching glance in her direction, "but we have work to do." He strides to her and puts his gold hand in the small of her back and guides her into the circle. "Maester Marwyn?" he says to Ronnet Connington with a pointed smile.
Ronnet almost rolls his eyes then shrugs.
"There's not much to tell. Maester Marwyn was working just like everyone else, then, according to witnesses, he discovered something that made him hurry to his tent, babbling incoherently with excitement. In the morning, he was gone."
"And no one thought to raise the alarm?" Brienne snaps.
Ronnet's eyes flick over her before he turns back to Jaime. "Of course we raised the alarm," he says, his tone as sarcastic as his expression.
Jaime's smile is cold and sharp. "What did you do?"
"We searched the camp and his tent. He was simply nowhere to be found. No vehicles were taken; there were no disturbances; no signs of struggle in his tent. The only conclusion we could come to was that he called someone to pick him up." Ronnet shrugs. "We decided he would either return or let someone here know where he went."
Jaime glances at Brienne. "Sounds reasonable."
"When did you realize he hadn't contacted anyone?" Brienne says, her voice brisk and professional.
Ronnet barks a laugh. "When Maester Aemon called to let Missandei know you would be arriving."
"Did he leave anything behind?" Jaime asks.
"Everything, as far as we can tell. His tent is still here, untouched since we searched it for a note." He scowls at Jaime and Brienne. "Look," he says, "Maester Marwyn is a grown man and experienced with this part of the world. There was no sign of a struggle in his tent, and if he wants to walk into the Dothraki Sea and disappear, that's his prerogative. We had no idea he had literally disappeared until Maester Aemon called looking for him."
Brienne sniffs. "'Security' firm," she mutters.
Ronnet glares. "We're here to protect the artifacts from theft, the dig from treasure hunters, and bored scientists from killing each. We're not here to babysit an old man whose only interests are pottery shards and fragments of metal!" He turns back to Jaime. "I'll take you to Marwyn's tent."
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime and Brienne survey the tent: small enough to still be relatively cozy, but large enough for both of them to stand up straight with room to spare. There's a table strewn with papers, a bed left unmade, a cabinet overflowing with more papers and artifacts, and a trunk at the foot of the bed.
Jaime turns to Ronnet. "You say you searched in here?"
"We looked for a note but found nothing."
Brienne looks at him and gives him an austere nod. "We'll take it from here," she says.
Connington opens his mouth but Jaime forestalls him. "We're going to rip this place apart; see if he left a note and it slipped behind the bed or something. We'll find you once we're finished."
Ronnet glares daggers at Brienne then motions for his men to follow him out.
Jaime waits until he's sure they're alone before he turns to Brienne, who's already poking through the papers on Marwyn's desk.
"So," he drawls, strolling towards her, "you and Connington have a history, I see."
"Ha," she says without looking at him, "very funny. You should be a detective."
He puts a hand on her shoulder but she shrugs it away. He scowls. "Look at me."
She takes a deep breath then meets his eyes with a resolute set to her chin. He gives her a searching look, seeing not just her rage but also a deep, underlying hurt beneath it. His heart twists and he opens his arms.
"Come here," he says and she blinks at him then slowly steps into his embrace.
He hugs her close, her body stiff and unyielding against him. He rubs a soothing hand up and down her back and says, "We're going to get through this...whatever 'this' is." He leans back and frowns. "Am I going to have to bury his body in the middle of the Dothraki Sea?"
She rolls her eyes, but Jaime feels her relax just a slight bit.
"That's good," he says. "There's not much cover out there. We'd probably have to do a Weekend at Bernie's kind of thing if we didn't want to get caught."
She frowns. "What?"
He sighs and shakes his head. "How you've managed to stay completely oblivious to popular culture is a magic all its own. Weekend at Bernie's, 1989. Two hapless men end up dragging their boss' dead body around in an effort to hide the fact the man's dead. Hijinks ensue."
Brienne wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Sounds charming."
"It has its moments," he says and gives her a quick peck on the lips. He grins. "Let's get to work."
*/*/*/*/*
A/N2: There may come a fic where I don't make Red Ronnet Connington a complete and utter asshole…but it's not this one—LOL.
