"… I thought you'd be a lot more shifting in your seat, threatening me, cursing my name, and chewing your thumbnails," Jaime grins as they are in the car – on the way to meet Brienne's father at last.

In fact, before he proposed to Brienne, Jaime thought of how she would try to control everything to the best of her abilities, that she'd give him a list of things he is not supposed to say, do, touch, but in fact… nothing much other than the usual.

And at some point Jaime is not sure if this is a good sign or a bad one.

"Then you thought wrong," Brienne exhales, looking out the window, twisting and turning the engagement ring around her finger, a habit she developed since Jaime put the ring on her finger, as though she was trying to rub the ring into her skin so that it stays there forever.

"Is everything alright?" he grimaces.

"What? Yeah, why?" she frowns, looking at him.

"As I said, you don't show the nervous reaction I'd usually see, and fully expected to see," Jaime replies with a roll of his shoulders. "In fact, you seem rather brooding."

"I'm not brooding," she argues. "I'm thinking."

"All the same," Jaime huffs.

"What? Aren't you nervous to meet my father?" Brienne smiles slightly. "Your maybe-soon father-in-law?"

"I can't imagine that he is worse than my father. And I can only repeat it: People always find me charming," Jaime replies.

"Loras doesn't find you charming," Brienne huffs.

"What? Of course he does. Renly does, Margaery does," Jaime argues, making a face. "Everyone does. I'm adorable."

"Loras tolerates you because he is friends with me. That's a huge difference," Brienne grins. "So maybe your magic is wearing thin at last."

"So what? Do you think your father will tear me apart because I did not just take his daughter's virginity, but also rightly courted her and am to wed her?" Jaime questions.

"You really should leave out the first part if you know what's good for you," she warns him with an amused smile.

"Do people still live in the Middle Ages? Yes, couples have sex, and yes, they have sex before they get married. We had sex before we got engaged. Amazing sex. Lots of amazing sex. By the Gods," Jaime rolls his eyes.

"Eyes on the road," she tells him. "You should just bear in mind that I'm my father's only daughter. He is very protective of me. He lost children before. You can't imagine how hard it was for him to let me go and… spread my wings or whatever. I am the only family he still has. So be a little… careful about him."

At last, they arrive at the Tarth Residence, which really proves to be a residence. Jaime has to blink twice at the old castle-like building, "You said that you are not rich."

"And we are not very rich. We just inherited this house. It's been owned by the family for over 300 years," she shrugs as she looks around. "Of course the house was redone a few times, but they made any effort to keep most things as they originally were."

"Wow," Jaime puckers his lips. "At some point it's really no wonder that you are into medieval life. You are actually a princess from a castle."

"This is no castle. And I'm no princess," she tells him as she takes one of the bags from the trunk.

"Now, you are my princess," Jaime argues as he closes the trunk. "And I'm your knight."

Brienne rolls her eyes before walking to the front door. Brienne rings the doorbell with her elbow, seemingly something she tends to do out of habit. Jaime tilts his head and waits, but then the huge wooden door opens and a seasoned man with greying hair and also very bright blue eyes, though his are not as bright as Brienne's, appears.

Of course.

"Brienne!"

"Dad!"

He pulls her close and Jaime can't help but muse at that. He can't remember his father to ever having done that.

In fact, he knows that he never did.

Jaime just tends to forget that not all people are as screwed-up and emotionally crippled as his clan.

"Dad? May I introduce you? This is Jaime. Jaime, that's my dad, Selwyn," Brienne says, looking between the two.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I have only heard the best about you, Sir," Jaime says, holding out his hand to the other man.

"Pleasure," is the court reply, followed by a short shake of hands. Jaime frowns. He honestly hoped for a warmer first meeting.

Maybe he is losing his touch after all.

"Shall we go inside?" Brienne asks nervously.

And so Jaime and Brienne find themselves in the rather luxurious living room, full of antiquities, Brienne toying with the hem of her blouse, while Jaime does his best pretending that he is taking in all the antiquities, in detail.

And Brienne's father just keeps studying them.

"So… you are the son of Tywin Lannister," Selwyn begins.

"That is correct, Sir," Jaime nods.

"Is it right that you will take over the business one day?" Selwyn goes on.

"Uhm, I don't hope so, actually, though my father would surely like to see that. I am well settled with handling matters of PR and the like. If my Father was smart, he'd give it over to my younger brother. He is more intelligent than my sister and I combined," Jaime replies.

"You see, Jaime, it is alright if I call you Jaime?" Selwyn looks at him.

"Jaime is more than fine," the young man replies quickly.

"Jaime. I'm a man of tradition. And I'm a man who holds the family as one of the highest goods, if not the highest good," Brienne's father goes on.

"Just like I do. And it's not that I don't take pride in my family's heritage or so, it's just that I know my capabilities, and that they are put to better use if I… serve the company instead of running it. That is all," Jaime shrugs.

"But Jaime is really devoted to his job," Brienne jumps in.

"Oh, I am certain of that," Selwyn shrugs. "I've heard about just how devoted the Lannisters are to their Empire."

"Dad? Is something wrong? I told you about Jaime when I started a relationship with him. I told you a lot about him already, so you don't have to do the whole bad cop routine," Brienne argues, honestly fed up with her father's behaviour. Not that she expected him to just take the news, but she hoped that he wouldn't instantly bring up business.

"I have just one question for you, Jaime," the older man goes on, unimpressed.

"Well, I hope I come to have the right answer," Jaime replies with a small, strangled laughter.

"You do know that if you ask for someone's daughter in marriage, the first step is actually to ask the father for his daughter's hand?"

"DAD!" Brienne cries out, burying her head in her hands, blushed to the point that Jaime can see the blush in her neck.

That had to come.

By the Gods!

"What? You tell me you are together with someone you deem honourable enough – and then the next message I get is that you are engaged with that man and that you, at last introduce me to him – only after the proposal already took place," Selwyn argues, and Jaime finds a spell suddenly broken, as the man seems to soften and warm up the person he envisioned.

"I didn't bring him here because you would have probed him about these matters upon hello," Brienne retorts. "The last time proved it. The guy was not past the door and you already asked him if we intended on having children soon."

"That was once," he argues vehemently.

"And the other one you asked if his future plans included marriage, since it is something you value so much. We didn't even have tea by then," Brienne goes on.

"I told you so many times already, Brienne, I am a man of tradition," Selwyn insists.

"And that would be fine, if you didn't pull the marriage or pregnancy card after you know someone for no more than five minutes," Brienne argues vehemently, but then nudges Jaime in the side when she hears him chuckling. "You keep that dumb smile to yourself."

"I'm sorry," he laughs, but then gathers himself, turning to Brienne's father again. "Sir, I know that it may seem a bit rash, and I most definitely thought about asking you about my plans. I decided against it, since I wanted to surprise Brienne. In the retrospective, I most definitely should have talked to you first, though. I accept traditions and I didn't mean to stomp on any of yours. You can believe me when I say I have the best intentions. I love your daughter dearly and that is why I want to marry her."

Selwyn looks at him, seemingly contemplating. Jaime licks his lips nervously. But then Selwyn of Tarth rises from his seat. Jaime stands up out of reflex. He almost jumps when the man embraces him, very tightly.

"Then I'd say welcome to the family, Jaime."

The father pulls closer to his ear so that only he can hear, "But if you hurt my daughter once, I swear by the Gods, I will find you, I will haunt you, and I will kill you. My daughter is not the only one who is into weapons, and believe me when I say that I know how to use them."

"Understood, Sir," Jaime mutters, curling his lips uncertainly, honestly intimidated.

"Splendid. Then this is clarified," Selwyn claps his hands with a big smile. "How about some tea and biscuits?"

"Fantastic idea," Jaime agrees, grasping Brienne's hand almost desperately.

"Then let me show you to the dining room," Selwyn says, walking ahead. Jaime leans over to Brienne, pressing her palm even tighter, "Never leave me alone with him."

Brienne claps him on the shoulder with her free hand, "Oh, be brave. He gave that speech to anyone I ever dated."

"It was pretty convincing."

"Oh, it is. Because he means it a hundred percent. He keeps his oaths like I do. Where do you think did I get it from?"

"You mean…?"

"You heard him. You better don't ever hurt me, or else he will hurt you. A lot, but if it's unjust on his side, be sure I will protect you from him."

Jaime blinks as they proceed into the dining room, hoping that the tea will somehow soothe his nerves.

Later the day, Brienne and Jaime finally find a good enough excuse to go to Brienne's room, and escape more probing questions from her father, though Jaime feels more and more certain that Selwyn is more than a good man at heart who just wants to know his only child protected.

Jaime plops down on her bed, glancing around. He already expected anything but a girl's room, but this looks almost like his room when he was still younger. The only thing that looks slightly feminine might be the canopy bed. And what makes this broom entirely Brienne is the blue wallpaper.

Jaime lets his eyes wander, honestly amazed at the sheer number of self-built wooden swords, longbows, and a bunch of prizes she won in sports.

At least some credit she got when still younger.

"So, I think we took the first hurdle," Jaime chuckles.

"That my father didn't kill you right away is surely a good sign," Brienne sighs, looking exhausted. "I don't even want to think about telling your father."

"You know that he approves our relationship," Jaime argues. "Already because of Cersei and me."

"I know from Tyrion that he can easily change his mind," Brienne snorts.

"Now, now, don't look so sour," Jaime grins at her smugly. "Come here."

"Jaime," she warns him, but he already pulls her over by the hand and into his lap. Brienne squirms against him, but he forces his lips on hers.

"You had to wear this sexy outfit, don't blame me."

"This is casual wear."

"A skirt is casual wear - for you of all people? Blue Eyes, you are an awful liar, how many times do I have to tell you?"

"A bit more than casual, fine, but… STOP," she barks as his hands start to wander over her body.

"C'mon, this is definitely turning on. This is almost as good as having some fun while the parents sleep in the next room," Jaime goes on teasing her, running his fingers up and down her body, forcing more and more blood to climb to Brienne's face, painting her a glowing shade of crimson.

Jaime loves her red cheeks.

"I never did that," she argues.

"Ever the more a reason to give it a try," he grins, kissing her neck.

"No," she argues.

"You would have punched me already if you didn't want for this to happen in some way," Jaime smiles at her.

He deserves the blow that follows, though he still keeps her on his lap.

Jaime does wonder how often he will have to convince Brienne just how crazy she drives him with her sexiness until she believes it, though at some point, a part of her sexiness is that she doesn't see it, that he has to tease it out of her.

Jaime kisses her again, knowing where to touch, where to squeeze, to kiss, to make her melt flush against him. He already means to pull her back on bed to explore a little more, when suddenly the door opens. Brienne jumps like a cricket, landing on the ground unceremoniously, eyes wide as an old-looking woman comes inside.

"Septa Roelle," Brienne breathes, running her free hand over her face, trying to wipe the blush away. Jaime cranes his neck, not liking the sound of that name. Brienne told him some awful childhood stories about that woman, about how she told her how ugly she was, and that no man would ever really care about her for her own sake, would love her for who she is, and for how she looks like.

"Brienne, it's been quite some time," she says, her voice cold as ice.

"In fact. I…," Brienne blinks, eyes still wide.

"And that is your betrothed?" she cocks an eyebrow at Jaime.

"Yes, uhm, that is Jaime Lannister, right," Brienne nods frantically, finally gathering her wits to scramble back to her feet.

"Pleasure, Sir," she says, nodding at him respectfully.

"The pleasure is on my side," Jaime replies, though the mixed feelings are still written all over his face.

"Well, I think you still need to… unpack," she grimaces, but then turns to Brienne with a lecturing tone. "Just keep in mind that this is an honourable, proud household you were raised in."

She looks at Brienne sternly.

"A good day, you two."

She closes the door again, leaving Jaime and Brienne stunned. For a moment, the young man thinks Brienne will just end up crying now, but instead she flips down on the bed with her upper body, her long legs dangling over the edge, burying her face with her hands. Jaime copies her posture, though he leaves his hands folded on his stomach, "I'm sorry. I didn't think we'd be interrupted by… your septa."

"I should've known. I mean, Father kept her around because she has served the family for so long. She is practically... a part of the family," Brienne grimaces. "But I understood it that she'd only be here later the day. And now she... oh, by the Gods."

"We still had clothes on, Brienne," Jaime argues, which only earns him a deep growl.

"Everything was working so well. And it takes one moment for me to be right back in childhood," Brienne sighs. "Fearing my septa."

"If she wants to live in the Middle Ages, let her," Jaime argues. "You are definitely no longer a child, Blue Eyes. And that's nothing to be ashamed of. And in any case, the next time you see her, shove that wonderful ring right in her face and prove her wrong. Because you wear that because it's the opposite of all she's ever told you."

He rolls over to kiss her lips, though her hands remain over her eyes. Jaime leans his forehead against her palms.

Jaime kisses the corner of her mouth as he pulls away slightly. Brienne pulls her hands away slowly, her sapphire eyes instantly exploding against his gaze, the blush still fading away from her freckled cheeks.

"Already having doubts, my dear princess?"

"No."

"Good."

"Though I think it might be better if you slept in the guest room."

"You can't do that to me. I can't even sleep without you snoring into my ear and pushing your cute arse against my stomach when you try to curl in on yourself ever since we started dating. Do you want me to suffer from insomnia that badly? How dare you?"

"You steal the blanket all the time."

"Hey, I don't complain. You know that I love it when you press against me in whatever the way."

"Stop."

"Just keep in mind that your father doesn't hate me completely. We've taken the first hurdle leading to you walking down the isle, and me looking stunning in my wedding suit."

Brienne sighs, leaning her head back again. Jaime leans back as well, though he tilts his head to the side to look at her.

And how wrong Septa Roelle is, he thinks to himself.

Who could not want her if only for that view?

For that wonderful red blush on her cheeks?