Ten
Jaime clutches her close and for a moment, Brienne allows herself to simply relax into his embrace.
Her heart is still pounding from Septa Brienne's actions: pushing her Jaime into the river instead of lowering him beneath the water. She's still shaking from the shouts of the guards and the crack of their guns as they fired into the river.
She has a sudden thought and jerks away.
"Are you—I mean, is he—all right?" she asks.
Jaime nods. "Yes—yes, he's fine, too—I swear."
Brienne goes limp with relief and almost wants to fling herself back into her Jaime's arms, but thinks better of it.
She slumps back in her chair and gives him a shaky smile.
"Well, Prisoner Jaime managed to elude the noose," she says.
Jaime blinks then nods and sits back, easing away from her. Brienne has a flash of regret then pushes the feeling away.
Jaime runs his hands through his hair, visibly pulling himself together, then gives her his familiar smirk. "Did you truly doubt it?"
She rolls her eyes, grateful they both seem to be calming. "You doubted it, too," she says.
"Ah," he murmurs, "did I? I have the utmost faith in my counterparts."
Brienne scowls. "What aren't you telling me?"
Jaime's smile turns smug. "We'll just have to revisit that universe so you can find out."
"Gods, not tonight!" she says, shuddering at the memory of that dank, damp cell. "I'm the one who needs the shower now!"
"You and me both," Jaime mutters.
Brienne glances at the clock and the computers. "Well, we have about twenty minutes before we're back to full power—and I'm serious, Jaime. I really don't want to connect to that universe again tonight."
"All right," Jaime says. "Which one do you want to try next?"
She frowns. "We only have tonight and tomorrow," she mutters, "and I don't want to deal with Prince Jaime or the Mad Jon universe now—not after what we've just been through."
Jaime gives her a rueful nod in agreement.
"How about the Farmer Brienne universe?" Brienne says as she pushes to her feet. "They're just going to a wedding. That seems innocuous enough."
"And then end the night with Megastar Jaime? That leaves the Prince and Princess, as well as the Mad Jon universe, for tomorrow. Are you sure you can handle both of those in one night?"
Brienne walks to the door with a frown. "We'll be able to have a longer down time between universes, if we need it," she says.
"Good point," he says. "All right—we have our plan. Where are you going?"
"To shower. I meant it: I feel like I need to get the stench of that cell off my skin."
Jaime grimaces. "Me too," he mutters. "I'll go once you get back."
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime heaves a sigh of relief once the door is safely closed on Brienne's broad back.
He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, and for a moment, he's back with Prisoner Jaime, and the terror he felt at the sound of the guns, and not knowing if Septa Brienne is alive or dead.
I believe you look like a goddess in this light.
And she had.
He groans and opens his eyes.
Three days, he reminds himself. They've only known each other for three days.
Soul mates.
He groans again and buries his face in his hands.
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime feels more himself when he returns from his shower.
Brienne glances at him, finishes making her notes, then puts down her pen and smiles.
"Ready?" she says.
He sits and nods, and Brienne hits enter.
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime arrives the next day with a dress box, and two shoe boxes.
"Ah, ah, ah," he says, gently shooing Alysanne and Arianne away. "It's meant to be a surprise for you, too." He hands the dress box to Brienne. "Go try it on," he says.
Brienne gives him a tired sigh and tries to ignore the girls' excited eyes. "I'm hot and sweaty, Jaime—"
"Take a shower, then, and try it on. The wedding's tomorrow, Stretch, and I need to make sure I got the measurements right."
She rolls her eyes as she grabs the box and stomps away.
*/*/*/*/*
The dress is blue and, she reluctantly admits, it brings out her eyes. It's cut in such a way as to give the illusion she has a waist and actual, plump breasts, and the skirt drapes to just above her knees.
She will never admit it to him...but she loves it.
*/*/*/*/*
The girls' eyes widen and their jaws drop, while Jaime's eyes gleam as he lets out a low wolf-whistle.
"Shut up," she mutters, blushing furiously.
"I always thought you'd clean up nice," Jaime says, chuckling. "Now, the shoes."
"Shoes?"
"Well, you can't wear your work-boots with that dress," Jaime says, and hands her the two shoe boxes.
Her sisters crowd round as she opens each box and they ooh and aah as the treasures within are revealed. A pair of dainty flats, and a pair of sexy high-heeled pumps, both in a blue that matches the dress.
"I wasn't sure if you know how to wear heels," Jaime says, "and I don't want you wobbling round like a new-born foal."
Brienne glares, glances at her sisters, and slips the pumps on her feet. She flicks her still damp hair over her shoulder, pushes her too-thick lips into a model's pout, and—to her sisters' glee—struts round the living room with an exaggerated roll to her hips. She spins round to face him, skirt flaring, and gives him a challenging glare.
Jaime puts up his hands in surrender, his eyes sparkling as he laughs. "Okay, okay—have mercy, Stretch!" He grins as his gaze roams over her. "Damn, I have good taste," he says smugly as he saunters to her. He gently grasps her shoulders and spins her towards her bedroom door. "Now, go take everything off before you give me a heart attack."
She takes a step, then pauses, frowning down at him over her shoulder. "A heart attack?"
"You're a dirt magnet, Stretch—always have been—and you don't want to know how much I paid for that dress," he says and shoos her away.
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime's half-drunk before the reception even starts and Brienne sighs, knowing she's going to have her hands full in managing her drunken best friend. He's tied up with wedding party duties but, he told her last night, at least he's only a groomsman and not the best man.
One of seven groomsmen, Brienne marvels as she watches the wedding party enter the ballroom. Seven. And, Cersei being Cersei, and Rhaegar being Rhaegar, and the fact they were both acting like this is a coronation rather than a wedding, the groomsmen are jokingly referred to as the Kingsguard in the never-ending speeches because of their snowy white jackets.
Brienne daintily sips her drink and during the meal—and between Jaime's frequent visits to mutter some new, sarcastically cynical observation in her ear—she makes conversation with her tablemates, all of whom she knows. While she hadn't been officially invited to the wedding, most of the town had been and there are very few people Brienne doesn't recognize. Unfortunately, the crowd includes Hyle Hunt and his merry band of assholes—those who had participated in that despicable bet the last time Brienne had ventured out to a social occasion like this. She studiously ignores their stares, whispers and raucous laughter she knows is directed towards her.
Well, she can avoid them, at least, because almost the entire town has turned out for the wedding and there are more than enough people here who sincerely want to talk to her. Tywin Lannister owns the town's largest bank, after all, and does business with virtually everyone—and this is probably the most lavish wedding the town has ever seen. Or will ever see again.
Brienne knows she wasn't officially invited only because Cersei has always disliked the fact Jaime had treated Brienne like his favorite sister virtually all his life—and Cersei has never been someone who likes being second in anyone's affections, for any reason. Brienne has no doubt Jaime would have had to eventually leave town if only to finally find a girl Cersei wouldn't be able to run off in less than an hour after meeting her.
Brienne suddenly remembers that girl in high school—Mel? Melisandre? No, Melara, that was it—and the way Cersei had treated her. Melara had moved away the following summer and Brienne had always secretly believed Cersei had been part of the reason for the family's departure.
Brienne shakes her head and refocuses on the happy couple. She pays special attention to Rhaegar Targaryen. She's only seen him a couple of times. He'd arrived in town not long after Cersei had returned from her brief time in King's Landing. It was only to be expected that they would gravitate to each other—especially in a town like theirs: small and close-knit, where everyone knows everyone, and nothing very exciting ever happens.
Rhaegar is handsome enough, Brienne supposes: silver hair and purple eyes, delicate bones and sensitive features. He's slender and tall, although not as tall as Brienne, and her shoulders are probably twice as broad. Judging from Jaime's whispered commentary, he's also already Cersei's slave, catering to her every whim—as if she would settle for anything less.
She tries to keep her eyes from straying to Jaime, but she can't help it. His hair is burnished gold, almost as bright as the bride's, and his shoulders seem impossibly broad in his white jacket. The look suits him and she wishes she were small and dainty and given to heaving breathy sighs, because that's exactly how she feels inside.
The bridesmaids are, of course, all beautiful, although not as beautiful as Cersei. Of course, it is the bride's day, Brienne thinks, and she is the one who should shine the brightest.
Her gaze drifts back to Jaime. He notices her stare and lifts his wine glass in salute and winks. She frowns as she feels a stab of arousal quiver down her spine. Jaime raises an eyebrow in question and she shakes her head and returns her attention to her table-mates.
She suddenly realizes this may have been the worst decision of her life.
*/*/*/*/*
"Why is she scowling at him like that?"
Brienne looks at her Jaime in wide-eyed horror and silently curses as she feels a flush crawl into her cheeks.
"She's just uncomfortable," she mutters, turning away.
"That's it?"
She flushes even brighter at his skepticism. She jumps to her feet and hurries to the door. "Don't you try to influence Singer Jaime," she scolds as she does so. "He's been teasing that poor girl more than enough already."
"Where are you going?"
She glares at the laughter in his voice. "The bathroom," she snaps and rushes away.
*/*/*/*/*
Brienne returns with coffee and snacks from the vending machines in the kitchen, but she had timed her return well.
She barely has time to sit down before Jaime gives her a questioning look, his fingers on the keyboard.
She puts everything down and nods.
Jaime hits enter.
*/*/*/*/*
She's dead.
She must be dead, she decides, because this can only be some sweet, seductive hell that she's fallen into as punishment for…something. Something done in a previous life, because she sure as all seven hells has not done anything to deserve this torture in this one.
She's danced with Jaime a time or two before, of course. He always made sure he danced with her at school dances even when he brought a date. But tonight…
His hand shifts on the small of her back and her knees go weak.
Literally.
Weak.
Why? she wonders almost desperately. After five years gone, why does she still feel this way?
Maybe it's because he had been gone so long, and she'd never fully understood exactly what effect he had on her while he was there. Maybe it's because he grew up while he was away, just like she has. Maybe it's because he's shed his jacket and tie, and his shirt is open to reveal the strong lines of his neck and all she wants to do is lean in and nib—
Jaime suddenly spins them round until she's dizzy and laughing at him to stop.
"You're lucky I took those damn shoes off," she tells him when he finally stops.
"You're the one who insisted on wearing them in the first place."
"You're the one who told me I couldn't!"
Jaime laughs and tugs her a little closer. "I've really missed you, Stretch," he says.
She blushes and hopes her cheeks are still so red from the spinning that he won't notice.
"I'm beginning to wonder if I missed you," she mutters. He just laughs and spins her again.
*/*/*/*/*
Brienne pads back to the living room with a beer in each hand. She hasn't had beer in the fridge since her father died, she thinks as she settles beside Jaime, sprawled boneless on the couch, and reminds herself to keep Jaime out of the kitchen. If he sees how bare her fridge and cupboards truly are...
She gives him a quick smile as they clink their bottles together and take a drink.
"Well," he says with a sigh, "I'm glad that's over."
"All that's left is the crying, huh?"
He raises an eyebrow. "Your support and sympathy is overwhelming, Stretch."
She snorts. "I put on a dress and went to the wedding of a woman I dislike simply because you begged me," she says drily. "I think I've already passed the Best Friend Support and Sympathy Test."
He gives her a slow, lazy smile that stops her in her tracks. She blinks rapidly and looks away.
"I had to practically force you on to the dance floor," he says. "You used to love to dance. What happened after I left?"
Brienne shoots him a startled glance wondering if somebody had told him what had happened. But there's no knowing look in his eyes. She turns her attention to the beer bottle in her hand and shrugs. "My father died," she says, "and when I ventured back into the world, well...there was...an incident." She frowns as she picks at the bottle's label. "It was a long time ago, Jaime. Not worth discussing."
He's silent for so long that she risks another glance at him. There's a simmering rage in his green eyes and she blinks a little at it.
"It was fucking Hunt and his cronies, wasn't it?" Jaime growls. "I saw them watching you and laughing."
"Watch your language; I don't want the girls to hear! And it doesn't matter who it was."
"Of course it matters if it keeps you from doing something you used to enjoy!"
"It's also none of your business, Jaime! You left, remember?"
"I left this place," he snaps. "I left my father's suffocating presence, and Cersei's petty jealousy. I never meant to leave you!"
She surges to her feet. "And yet that's exactly what you did." She clunks her beer bottle on to the coffee table. "It's late and I have to be up in a few hours to do chores. You should go home now."
Jaime's smile is bitter. "Home? My home is leagues away from this place." His eyes gleam. "Besides, I'm too drunk to drive."
She rolls her eyes; he stopped drinking hours ago and hasn't taken more than two sips of his beer.
"Fine," she growls.
She stomps to the closet, drags out a blanket and tosses it on the couch.
"Maybe I should wake you when it's time to do chores," she snaps. "Remind you of what's real and what isn't."
*/*/*/*/*
In deference to the fact there are young girls in the house, Jaime only removes his belt and socks and sleeps in his clothes.
Or tries to.
His mind is whirling too much and even after he finishes his beer and then Brienne's, he still can't relax enough to sleep. He's too confused by the homely, lumbering blonde—who had looked amazing in that blue dress and those heels—sleeping in the bedroom down the hall.
She used to tell him everything, and the fact she doesn't trust him anymore with everything bothers him—especially after he gave her the space she wanted when he left.
He sighs and rolls off the couch.
Maybe another beer will do the trick.
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime opens the fridge and blinks at the sparsely filled shelves. The beer he brought looks strange in all that empty space. He frowns as he closes the fridge. He glances over his shoulder to make sure he hasn't woken anyone then begins to open freezer doors and, finally, the cupboards.
They have the basics, he finds, but there are no luxuries, and even the basics are bare-boned. There's at least meat in the freezer and vegetables in the garden, and Jaime wonders just how close they are to losing it all.
He carefully closes the last cupboard and quietly walks back to his bed on the couch. He doesn't know if he's angry with Brienne for not telling him how badly off they are, or if he's angry with himself for not asking, and even more angry for not being here for her, whether she wanted him to be or not.
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime easily convinces the girls to be his willing accomplices. They're young and he doesn't think they have much opportunity to break their sister's rules. Once he has them on board with the plan, he gleefully needles Brienne until she practically orders him to take the girls into town. Alysanne and Arianne are in the car laughing with him as he spins out of the farmyard.
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime knows Brienne won't thank him for buying groceries, but he hopes that if he keeps Alysanne and Arianne between them, she won't actually get close enough to break any of his limbs.
From the look on her face and the glare she gives him, he might have misjudged the depth of her anger.
"What is all this?" she asks flatly as the girls put the last of the bags on the table and begin to unload the groceries.
"What does it look like?" he asks blithely, giving her a bland smile. "I've been here more than I've been at my parents', and if I'm going to be eating you out of house and home, I want to make sure the food you give me is up to my exacting standards."
"Your exact—you used to eat mud pies, Jaime!"
"Only when you made them, m'lady," he says as he scoops up her hand and playfully kisses the back of it. "Usually because I was too afraid of you to say no."
She flushes a dark red as she yanks her hand from his grasp. "You're still an idiot," she mutters.
He sobers. "Mayhaps." He considers her thoughtfully, then says, "Can we leave the girls to put the groceries away while we go for a walk?"
Her flush deepens but before she can speak, Alysanne and Arianne loudly urge them to go and leave them to take care of things. Jaime knows it's because they want to sneak a couple of chocolate bars before supper but he's willing to take their help. He did bribe them with the chocolate, after all.
Brienne grumbles as she grabs her sweater, shoves her feet into her worn sneakers and stomps out ahead of him.
He easily keeps up with her until they arrive at the edge of the creek in the pasture and Jaime hides a smile that she automatically led him to their old spot. Brienne stops and wraps her arms round her stomach, then turns to glare at him.
"You went through the kitchen last night, didn't you?" Her betrayed tone is almost amusing.
"Yeah," he says. "How has it gotten so bad for you, Brienne?"
She scowls and for a moment Jaime seriously thinks she's going to shove him into the muddy creek bed. Then she turns abruptly away, her shoulders hunching as she wraps her arms more tightly round herself.
"My father stopped paying attention to the farm for the last few years of his life," she mutters.
"I remember," Jaime murmurs. Selwyn Tarth was a good father, a good man, but he spiralled into despair and growing alcoholism after his wife died having Arianne. But Jaime hadn't expected the man would sink so low as to leave his daughters in such dire straits.
"I did what I could while he was alive," she says, and Jaime nods. He knows how hard she worked. "Things were...tolerable. He even seemed to be getting his drinking under control." She heaves a sigh. "A few months after you left, he mortgaged the place to the hilt, disappeared on a massive bender, and when he came back, he promptly rolled the tractor down the hill." She glances over her shoulder at him then again turns away. "No life insurance."
"Why did he mortgage the place?"
Brienne gives a small shrug. "To pay for the bender, as far as I can tell," she says bitterly. "I've never seen the money but I certainly owe the payments."
There's a cold, sinking feeling in his stomach. "Who holds the mortgage?"
She gives him a pitying look over her shoulder. "Who do you think?"
Jaime closes his eyes and grimaces. His father. Of course.
Then he frowns. He opens his eyes and stares at the back of Brienne's head.
"Why would my father agree to loan your father money?" he asks. "My dad knew what your father was like. He didn't get rich by throwing money away." His frown deepens. "And how much money are we talking about?"
Brienne turns round and glares but she says nothing in defense of her father. She knows what Jaime has said is true.
"Three hundred thousand dragons," she mutters and Jaime's jaw drops.
"And you have no idea where the money went?" he says incredulously.
"No! There was nothing in my father's accounts, and according to the records at the bank, he never paid anything against the mortgage...although he did die almost immediately after getting the loan."
"There's no way he went through three hundred grand on a bender, Brienne!"
Brienne rubs her forehead and sighs. "You wouldn't think so...but I can't find where the money went, Jaime! Gods, if there were any left...you have no idea..." She abruptly turns her back and Jaime realizes she's fighting tears.
"Brienne," he says softly, and tentatively touches her shoulder. She shrugs his hand away and he hesitates for a moment before he steps closer and puts his arms round her. She tenses but she doesn't try to escape, so he takes that as a good sign. He gently turns her round and pulls her into a hug. She stands stiff and unyielding in his arms.
"I'm sorry, Brienne," he whispers against her ear. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you."
His words seem to break something inside her because her shoulders begin to shake and then she's clutching at him, her face buried in his neck as she sobs.
He holds her and lets her weep, and thinks there's something very strange about her story but he's damned if he can think of what it is.
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime sighs. "Briennes can't seem to catch a break," he says.
Brienne nods.
He looks thoughtful and opens his mouth.
"Don't even ask," she growls.
"Right," he says, and grabs his cup of coffee.
*/*/*/*/*
They wait out the half hour in silence, and only exchange a questioning look and a nod before Jaime once again hits enter.
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime's still pondering Brienne's story the next day as he finishes his workout at the town's only gym.
He's using his t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face as he walks into the change room.
"Lannister!"
He turns and frowns when he sees Red Ronnet Connington approaching with an even smarmier grin than usual on his face. Jaime glances round and hides a grimace when he realizes they're alone in the change room.
"Great to see you again, man," Ronnet says as Jaime shakes his proffered hand.
Jaime raises an eyebrow at that. He and Ronnet had never been particularly friendly before he left, and barely exchanged two words at the wedding. Then again, Jaime is famous at the moment, and that makes everybody he's ever known want to be his best friend.
"Your sister threw a great party on Saturday," Ronnet says, "although what possessed her to put the groomsmen in white—if you had your hair any longer, you could have been mistaken for the bride!" Ronnet laughs uproariously at his own joke while Jaime pretends to smile through gritted teeth.
"I saw you dancing with our local giant," Ronnet say. He leans closer and lowers his voice, "I think there's still a pot of dragons up for grabs if you managed to fuck her that night. Although it's not really fair if you won, since you've known each other since you were kids."
Jaime knows Ronnet is speaking a language he understands, but he can't seem to make sense out of what the other man is saying.
Ronnet recognizes his confusion and a worried look crawls across his stupid face. "I saw you talking with Hunt at the dance. I thought he gave you the low-down on the bet, especially once you started dancing with that hairy cow—"
Jaime's fist lands on Connington's jaw with a satisfying crunch. Connington sprawls on the floor, blood pouring from his split lip. Jaime leans down and hisses, "Her name is Brienne, you dick, and if anyone asks, you slipped in the shower." He straightens and sneers down at the other man. "Just be grateful you only split your lip"
*/*/*/*/*
"Why didn't you tell me what those assholes did?"
Jaime's anger is more frightening because his voice is so tightly controlled, almost as tight as his fists, his knuckles turning white.
"Because it was a long time ago," she snaps, "and none of your business."
"They made a bet! They made a bet on who was going to convince you to fuck them!"
"Yes, I know—I was there," she says drily. "I will never forgive them for that. But it's over."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You weren't here, Jaime! You'd left, remember? You'd fucked off to Music Row in King's Landing, trying to make a name for yourself in the music business! And you never called, you never wrote! You could have been dead in a ditch somewhere for all I knew!"
"I told Cersei to tell you where I was!"
"Why didn't you tell me where you were, Jaime? You just...left." In a moment all her anger drains out of her. "You just left," she says again, "and we were supposed to be best friends."
Jaime frowns. "I thought that was what you wanted!"
"Why would you think that?"
The muscles in his jaw flex, then he says, slowly, "My father told me you were very angry. It's why you never said good-bye."
Brienne's eyes widen. "I wasn't angry," she says. "I mean, I was mad at you after our last fight but I was never angry you left. I always knew you weren't meant for a place like this. I always knew you would leave and make your way somewhere else, and be successful at it, too." She frowns. "And how was I supposed to say good-bye? You left without telling me anything about it."
Now it's Jaime's turn to widen his eyes. "What the fuck do you mean? I left you message after message after message!"
They stare at each other in silence.
"Our fathers?" Brienne finally whispers.
"Who else could it have been?" he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair. "I knew I should have tracked you down, but Father said you'd been adamant that I was to leave you alone. Your father told me you'd calm down in time."
"Why would they do this?" Brienne asks, her voice weak.
Jaime sighs. "My father? Well, who knows why my father does anything, really. Your father?" He sighs again. "He knew I was going to ask you to go with me."
Her jaw drops. "Go with you?"
He nods. "I wanted us to go on this adventure together. You're not meant for a place like this, either, you know, only you can't seem to get yourself out."
She laughs at that. "I'm not destined for anything else, Jaime," she says and she can't seem to stop the bitterness from seeping through. "I'm big and ugly, a strong smallfolk woman. My lot in life is to work the land and raise my sisters, and I have no doubt that I'll end up dying in that field over there, just like my father—if I don't lose the farm before then."
He scoffs. "You could go anywhere, Brienne, be anything you wanted to be, if you could just catch a break."
She rolls her eyes, then softens. "You really wanted me to go with you?"
"We were supposed to conquer the world together, remember? Isn't that what best friends do?"
"And my father helped sabotage it?"
"It looks like it," Jaime says and sighs. "Don't hate him," he says gently. "You know he was barely making it through each day. He'd lost your mother. He couldn't stand to lose you, too."
"I can't hate him," she mutters, blinking rapidly against a hot rush of tears, "but it's not that simple." And it's not. Her feelings for her father are complicated, a mixture of pity and love and rage, all clamoring for her attention. He'd fallen apart slowly for years, then died and left her to pick up the pieces. It didn't matter it wasn't intentional—she's spent the last few years working through her rage and disappointment while trying not to taint Alysanne's and Arianne's memories.
"It's not that simple," she whispers again.
"Then please don't hate me," Jaime says. "I thought you wanted me to stay away from you."
"Never," she says, then realizes what she's said, and flushes.
"Good," he says and slowly grins, "because I'm back in your life, Brienne, and this time you're not getting rid of me that easily."
*/*/*/*/*
On his last day home, Jaime and Brienne stroll to their spot by the creek. Her heart is aching at the fact he's leaving and she doesn't know when she'll see him again.
"At least this time we'll call and e-mail and text," he says with a nudge of his shoulder against hers.
"Right," she says, with a nudge back. "Only I have to do all of that at the library."
"Right," he says and sighs. "Still...better than nothing."
She nods and stares down at the sluggishly moving water.
Still no rain, a distant part of her mind thinks, and she wonders if she's going to get enough out of the fields to make her mortgage payment. She can't sell any more cattle if she still wants meat for the winter, and—
"Why don't you and the girls come for a visit?"
Brienne gives him a startled look. "A visit? To King's Landing?"
"No, to the Wall. Of course, King's Landing! It's where I live, after all!"
"Jaime, you know I can barely afford to get the girls to school. How am I going to get them to King's Landing?"
"My treat." He shrugs when he sees the mulish set of her features. "Or my loan."
"Great. Like I need any more debt."
"Well, see, that's the thing: I've been thinking—"
"Always dangerous," she mutters.
"Ha, ha," he says. "I'm serious. I've been thinking, and while I want you and the girls to come for a visit and leave all these worries behind for a week, I also want to give you the chance to do some digging in the city."
"What kind of digging?"
"Your father took out a three hundred grand dragon mortgage on your farm. Where did that money go?"
She looks skeptical but also reluctantly intrigued. "And you think we might find something out in the city?"
He shrugs. "Well, we sure as shit won't find anything out here, especially if my father is the one who swindled you out of your future."
Brienne sighs and shakes her head. "The only one who swindled me was my father, Jaime, not yours."
"You said yourself he went away for a few weeks."
"He drank it all," she says flatly.
"Or he invested it."
She blinks. "It's been five years. Somebody would have tried to get in touch with him by now and found me instead."
Jaime thoughtfully considers her. "What are you more afraid of, Brienne? Finding out for sure that your father drank and partied all that money away—or finding out he didn't?"
She flushes. "If I don't know," she slowly says, "then I'm not lying to the girls when they ask what happened."
"But you could know. Don't you owe it to your sisters to take the shadow of uncertainty away from them? Or do you want them to wonder forever, just like you?"
"I want them to remember our father with respect. They don't really understand how bad things were, and I'd like to keep it that way."
"By hiding from the truth? That's not the Brienne I know."
"The Brienne you knew is five years in the past, Jaime."
Jaime puts his hands on her shoulders. "I don't believe that," he says gently. "You're still brave and honest and stronger than anyone else I know. Except for this one thing. You have to learn the truth, Brienne, or you'll never move on from it, and neither will your sisters." He gives her a little shake. "Let me help you do this. Let me be the best friend I should have been when you needed me."
"Jaime..."
"Come on," he wheedles and leans closer. "The girls will have a great time."
"Not fair!"
"Have I ever played fair with you, Stretch?"
She snorts.
"Come on," he pleads softly, giving her his best puppy eyes.
She groans and agrees.
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime looks at Brienne with a relieved sigh.
"That wasn't so bad," he says.
"Better than expected," she agrees, then stands and stretches. "And I don't need a shower."
He grins. "No, but I could use a drink."
*/*/*/*/*