Author's Note: Thanks for sticking with me and my little story!

To my Argentinian pal: Thank you for yet another wonderfully kind review. And I can only agree that there are little chances for happy endings in the real Game of Thrones universe. The rule of thumb really is that everyone just dies in the end. Obviously, I won't confirm a happy ending at this point, though I keep the fingers crossed for my Brienne and Jaime.

So... here goes the next chapter ;)

Enjoy ^^


And so, after a long voyage full of anxious waiting and nagging anticipation, Jaime can stomp his feet on Tarth's loamy soil again. To his surprise, it feels more at home than does the ground in Casterly Rock. In fact it feels so homely that he doesn't even care about the drizzle painting the sky in different shades of grey and mossy green. Jaime shakes his head, the beads of condensed water falling out of his hair like shards of glass, as he and Tyrion are escorted to the Tarth Residence, where they are instantly greeted by Lord Selwyn. He claps Jaime on the shoulder with a shine of adoration in his eyes, telling him again and again that he is glad to finally see him back in Tarth, something Jaime can only agree to.

It's curious and reassuring at the same time that he grew to be a part of a family not his - even though time and distance parted them in more than one way.

Jaime is ever the more pleased that Lord Selwyn greets Tyrion with about the same amount of enthusiasm, his eyes not clouded by silent judgment. The way Jaime reckons, it is that the Lord brought up a rare creature as well, which is the reason why he can see past a person's grotesqueness more easily than others - and see what is within. Tyrion seems a bit caught off-guard that Lord Selwyn seems to take him for not just half of a man, but simply a Lannister heir, if not friend.

"I think our Father wrote to you about the proposal we have to make. I can only repeat another time that he is desolate that he cannot attend the meeting himself and has to send his callow sons in his stead, but as the Lord Hand, he cannot always choose where to go," Tyrion tells Lord Selwyn swiftly.

"Oh no, I am by no means desolate. While it would have been a great pleasure to see him back here, I understand that he has responsibilities, to the Iron Throne no less. And I have only heard the best of you from Brienne and Jaime when it comes to your wit and skills of negotiation, so I am sure that we will find an agreement favourable for both sides in no time," Lord Selwyn smiles.

"Speaking of Brienne, where is she?" Jaime jumps in. Tyrion grins – he watched his brother from the corner of his eye as Jaime tried to find already the smallest opportunity to lead the conversation to his childhood friend.

Because, after all, Jaime is by no means here because of the trading routes. Jaime's sole reason to be in Tarth is its Maiden.

"Oh, she rode to town a few hours before your arrival, to see the blacksmith about her sword," Lord Selwyn. "We didn't expect you so early on."

"Typical," Jaime chuckles to himself.

"And I may add that while I tell her time and time again that my dear daughter can leave the duty to a servant, she insists to talk to the blacksmith in person," the Lord of Tarth exhales.

"Certainly to make sure that he does everything according to her wishes. I wouldn't do it another way, Lord Selwyn," Jaime tells him with a grin.

"Well, I can't say much about the matter, I am not too profound with the sword," Tyrion shrugs. "So I will follow my brother in his argument. As a knight, he should know."

"Ah, right. I also wanted to congratulate you to your position in the Kingsguard," Selwyn smiles at him.

"I am not yet appointed, Lord Selwyn," Jaime argues.

"That's only a matter of time, I'm sure," the Lord winks at him encouragingly.

"Thank you," Jaime smiles. When he told his father about the plans of joining the Kingsguard, Tywin had said nothing, simply glared at him. When his father eventually decided to talk, he only informed his oldest son that he was very disappointed, since he had hoped that Jaime would take care of Casterly Rock in his stead. What really stung was when the Lord Hand said that he thought he could trust Jaime, but was seemingly mistaken with that, because Jaime didn't seem to care for the family.

Lord Selwyn, by contrast, shows just the reaction Jaime had desperately, if secretly, been craving for: Approval, appreciation, pride.

Really, sometimes he wished people could choose their family instead of being born into one.

"I remember as if it were yesterday that you and Brienne fought with wooden swords, dreaming of becoming like the knights in her books. And now you two are youths, ready to tackle the world, ready to join the Kingsguard, even," Lord Selwyn smiles at him, clapping Jaime on the shoulder once more. "Though I reckon I'm just getting old and nostalgic."

"I suppose we all like to live in the past a little bit," Jaime shrugs.

Tyrion means to say something, but that is when the gates open, and a tall figure steps inside, pulling the hood away, revealing short blonde curls. She shakes her head, the rain drops falling off of her like crystals.

"Father, I have talked to the blacksmith and just imagine what he said after I…," she means to say, but that is when she sees two figures standing in front of her father.

Jaime finds his mouth instantly flexing into a big smile as her sapphire eyes glance at him. She hurries over to them. The older Lannister brother is already sure to find her hand on his shoulder, if not his body wrapped in an embrace, but Brienne is instantly on one knee, pulling Tyrion close to her chest, "Tyrion! By the Seven! It's been so long! You can't imagine how much I missed you! I was so glad when the letter reached me that you would come for visit!"

Tyrion laughs into her shoulder, knowing just by the stance of his brother's feet that the youth is upset, if not jealous.

"My, my, Milady Brienne, you never cease to impress me," Tyrion says as she pulls away.

"Impress?" she frowns.

"As a dwarf, I naturally envy you for your ability to climb closer to the sky above us," he winks at her. Brienne pats him on the shoulder affectionately, "You are too kind."

"Uh-hum," Jaime coughs lightly. Brienne grins, turning her attention to the smug boy.

"Jaime, it's been a while," she greets him casually, though her soft chuckling gives the tease away at an instant. "And I daresay that you are still shorter than me."

"That might be. Not everyone can be a giantess or giant," Jaime grins. He is glad to see her eyes with the familiar spark of energy. On the way to Tarth, Jaime could not stop thinking about the images of Brienne writing the last letter he received, the tears in her eyes, the resignation. To see her as lively as ever truly is a relief.

"Brienne, dear, why don't you take our guests to their chambers?" Lord Selwyn suggests with a warm smile.

"Of course, Father," Brienne says.

"Milord, without meaning to interrupt, I hoped to have a word with you about the trading route presently – just as I hope that you have some wine to spare," Tyrion says, stepping over to the Lord, who gives a grin, "We make a fine drop here on Tarth, I'm sure you will enjoy it a lot."

"Splendid, then how about we do that while Lady Brienne shows my brother to his chamber?" Tyrion suggests. Jaime chuckles softly as Tyrion and the Lord disappear, leaving the childhood friends standing in the empty Great Hall.

"What brings you here? In the letter it sounded as though Tyrion would be the only Lannister to come," Brienne asks.

"Well, I am sorry to deceive your hopes of having my brother to yourself, but Father told me to come along… As the true representative of the House of Lannister," Jaime grins, but his shoulders slump slightly towards the end as she sees her grimace. She well understands the implication as to why their father wouldn't send Tyrion alone. And it makes her sick each time.

"Is he alright?" she asks.

"He knows how to take it. And for as long as there is wine, he will be the happiest small man you have ever seen," Jaime assures her.

"That's good," she agrees. The two start to walk as Jaime goes on, "I heard that your marriage was called off after all."

"He didn't win against me in battle, what can I say?" Brienne shrugs with a small grin.

"He can count himself lucky that he walked out of this alive, I reckon?" Jaime smirks.

"Right," she agrees.

She escaped that betrothal barely so, however. Brienne wouldn't have written to Jaime in sheer distress over her upcoming proposal if she hadn't been scared the way she was when her father informed her about the betrothal - and her betrothed.

She thought it was over for her.

Brienne thought that she already lost the fight, but then he made the one mistake that no one should ever make around her: He told her that once they were married, Brienne were to act like a lady.

And Brienne of Tarth is no lady.

It was the greatest satisfaction and relief as she heard his bones cracking. To her, it sounded like shackles breaking open and away.

If only for a short while.

But for now, she cherishes the time she has. Until her father tries to find her another man will take a while, especially since her drastic actions surely scared off all men in the area.

"How did it even come to the duel? I mean... what kind of a man fights his betrothed?" Jaime can't help but ask. Brienne shrugs at him, "Upon our first meeting, he said to me that once we were married, I would have to behave like a lady. I... disagreed."

"I understand your motives, but what brought him to the point? I mean... that we two beat each other up is due to our kind of friendship, but how can an old bastard dare to duel his betrothed - who is still a youth?" Jaime grimaces. That is something he didn't yet understand at all. Even Tyrion couldn't deliver him a satisfactory answer.

"He said that he would chastise me if I dared not to behave the way it was expected of a lady once we were married. When I told him that I would only accept punishment at the hands of a man who could beat me in a fight, he was enraged enough to try to teach me 'a woman's place'. I suppose the wine didn't help his cause," Brienne replies, her lips pursed to create a smile, but miserably so.

Because it is no joking matter.

Even if Brienne was not afraid of the fight itself, she was afraid that she might lose by some chance, that she would have been forced into wearing dresses and being mute for the rest of her life, and have an old husband who thinks he can command her - and punish her if she does not relent.

Up to that point, she had believed that Ronnet Connington's rose in the dust was the worst of all betrothals, but Ser Humfrey beats him by far, because, to Brienne, he represents all the fears and bad things she sees realized in marriage, what makes her run from it so far. Not to mention the mere thought of kissing and bedding a man who could be her father, by age.

Jaime's jaw is in a straight line, his fists clenching slightly. He knows that men have little respect for her. He knows that few marriages are happy and even fewer between people who chose each other, but it boils deep within him to hear that someone dares to threaten a young woman in that way, tries to silence her in that way, in the belief that he can because they are to be married. And he could still lash out at the mere thought that this young woman might have been his wench.

"Bastard," he grumbles.

"It's over now," she shrugs.

"Well, I am glad that the marriage didn't happen, then," Jaime exhales, calming himself.

"Why would you be happy about that?" Brienne asks, sporting a small grin, though she is honestly irritated by his comment.

"You mean beside the fact that he obviously is an arse?" he huffs.

"Beside that, yes?" she looks at him. "I mean, what if it had been someone... not that bad. Would you have been happy about that marriage being called off, too, then?"

"Yes," he replies simply.

"But why?" she frowns.

"Well, your letter reached me way too late. And I couldn't bear the thought that my oldest friend married without me there," Jaime replies.

"I am glad, too, that it didn't happen after all," she admits sheepishly. "He is about as ugly as I am. Now imagine what our children would have looked like!"

"Oh, I bet they would come out just fine," he tells her with a wink, but then adds in a hushed voice, "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," she says without thinking. "It's been such a long time…"

"Indeed," he agrees.

Way too long.

"So… so this is your chamber. I don't think I have to show you around once more. You know by now what windows and doors look like around here," she grins.

"If I don't come to remember, I can still ask you, wench," Jaime agrees. He is surprised when he suddenly finds himself pulled forward, two long arms holding him for a short moment, but then pushing away.

"I'm really glad to see you back, Jaime," she whispers. He smiles at her fondly, patting her on the back.

"So am I, my wench, so am I."