If he thought she glowed the first time he really saw her, that memory paled in comparison to how she looked now, her entire body luminous with color and sparked to life by the touch of their hands. Instead of flat grey, her skin was peaches and cream underneath a splattering of cafe au lait freckles. Her swollen lips were a lively pink that bespoke of youth and health. Even her hair, while lacking in shine or volume, was a pale yellow that reminded him of sunrise on summer mornings. And her eyes, Gods, her eyes...
Warm and entranced, Jaime felt he understood, really understood why Brienne looked the way she did and it made perfect sense.
A soul that great would break a normal human shape.
Her hand fell away from his wrist, and he grazed his fingers against her palm to prolong their contact. As her hand fell away, everything around him diminished.
"Jaime?"
"You're right," he said, his voice gruff and strangled. In desperation, he turned, needing to look at anything but her.
Colors. Focus on the colors.
The red tail light of a car was clear but what surprised him more were the increased yellow and green tones he could see in the changing stoplight. The sky, however, remained just as grey as before.
"It's not as bright as the red by any means but yeah… yellow and green," he explained and he turned to her again, his face pained from the stretch of his smile. "I can sort of see them now. And for a moment there, while you touched me, I could see them all."
She bit her lower lip and looked at her hand as if it was something foreign to her before stuffing it back into her pocket and cleared her throat.
"But Jaime, did you hear me? Earlier?"
"Hmm? To be honest, no. I was a bit distracted."
"I said I think you've been marked by The Other. I thought that it was just your hands were always cold from the weather but its more than that. I could feel it. And it explains why your perceptions change when we…" she hesitated and her blush returned in full force over her once again grey skin, "make contact. I could feel it retreat."
It took a moment for her words to seep past his elation and he rocked back on his heels. "But… why?"
"It's not unreasonable to think if R'hllor intervened in our world that The Other would do the same."
His brow quirked upward. "Are you saying my Father is The Great Other? He's a cold bastard, I'll grant you, but I'm pretty sure he's human. He's far too obsessed with House pride and legacy."
"No! Of course not. But it's happened before..."
Jaime recoiled as he honed in on her reference, an old tale where the King of Eternal Winter would take children offered as a sacrifice and turn them into one of his own.
"The Walkers?" he hissed. "You think I'm a bloody Whitewalker?"
"Obviously not. But what if he tried? Or that his magic in this realm was too weak with the veil in place that it only left a mark?"
He stared at her, his chest heaving with the implication. It could explain so much... the mystical deterioration of his eyesight, the neverending chill that invaded down to his core, the hopeless dread he fought daily and kept him isolated from all but a handful of people. But, still...
"Why me?"
Brienne sucked in a breath behind her teeth. "I'm not certain…" she said slowly and stared at a blank spot near her feet.
"But you have an idea?"
Before she could answer, her gaze flicked over his shoulder and she straightened, her eyes narrowing. He turned and saw what had her attention and stepped to put himself directly in front and grinned at the approaching men.
Oh please do.
His thoughts were a whirlwind, his emotions a maelstrom and he was relieved to see an obvious outlet. They were looking for a fight and Jaime was happy to oblige.
"Ah, yes. My friends from the coffee shop," he greeted with mock cheerfulness.
"No one talks to us like that. Who the hells do you think you are?" the tallest of the men growled, a bit of spittle lodging in the pathetic patch of facial hair trying to sprout on his chin.
"What was that?" asked Jaime. "I'm afraid I can't hear assholes speaking. It's a wonderful affliction, though it does leave me unable to interact with the majority of society."
Time slowed as the man lunged at Jaime and an absolute clarity washed over him, a certainty of exactly how the next few seconds would go.
And so instead of stepping back or moving to block the incoming blow, Jaime just raised his coffee cup to his lips and did not flinch when Brienne's open palm intercepted a fist a few inches from his cheekbone.
He swallowed and grinned at the stunned look on the imbecile's face. "You sure you want to do this?" he asked, "I don't think it's going to go well for you or your friends."
Jaime's eyes darted to movement over the man's shoulder in time to see one flip open a switchblade from his pocket,
"Very well."
He dropped and leaned forward before using his legs to drive upward and, with the crown of his head, strike the man in the jaw. Brienne released her grip and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Jaime tossed his empty cup into a nearby bin while keeping his eyes on the one with the knife, but Brienne was suddenly between them. A second later, the blade went flying to land silently in the snow.
"Take him and go."
Jaime stepped around her to see the friends pull the still dazed man to his feet and drag him quickly away.
"Well, that was just delightful."
"You didn't have to antagonize them!" she hissed as she marched to retrieve the abandoned switchblade. "Did it ever occur to you to de-escalate?"
His nonchalant shrug turned into a shiver as the sun started to dip toward the horizon.
Cold again.
"My car is just over there," he said, pointing to the lot a building over. "We could go somewhere. Inside, preferably, if you wish to continue arguing with me."
"I took the bus," was her mulish reply.
He sighed. "I'll give you a ride. We can talk at your place."
But Brienne shook her head vehemently. "No, my father… he-" The look she gave him was almost apologetic as she struggled with her words.
"Doesn't like me," he finished for her. "Well, my place isn't far."
He turned on his heel and pulled his keys from his pocket to rattle them in the air. "Your chariot awaits, your Grace."
"So you know how to fight," she stated as she slid into the passenger seat a few minutes later and Jaime found himself pleased that her bouts of anger with him were shortening the longer their acquaintance continued.
"You can tell that from one headbutt?"
"A head butt done correctly? Yes. Most people just whip their head forward with their neck, resulting in harm to themselves instead of their opponent."
He smirked and started the engine. "I've done grappling, boxing, and swordplay since I was eight," he said and pulled his hair back on one side to show her his cauliflower rear as proof.
"Are you any good?"
He paused to back out of the spot before looking Brienne straight in the eye. "Yes."
He waited until they were on the roadway before he asked his own question. "How about you, Grace? You said your father taught you to fight?"
He could feel her exasperated side-eye but she surprised him by answering. "No, not really. He brought me to whatever masters he could, bartering work in exchange for their time. I learned to use edged weapons in Bravos, the spear in Dorne, and hand-to-hand combat with a Dothraki Khal."
"I'm surprised you got the Khal to agree. I thought they didn't hold women in high regard as warriors."
Brienne grimaced. "He wouldn't meet with me at first. But my father told him one day he'd be renowned around the world as one of my teachers. It intrigued him enough to meet me."
"And how did that go?"
"He laughed in my face and grabbed me by my hair to drag me out." She paused, a light smirk twisting her lips. "I broke two of his ribs with the punch he wasn't expecting but he agreed to train me afterward. "
"How old were you?"
"We left for Essos when I was nine but I did not meet the Khal until I was twelve."
He tried to picture her as a little girl under the brutal sun of the Great Grass Sea, wrestling with a Khal, and his heart did a sad little lurch.
"Did you ever have time to be home?"
"More than you'd think." She shrugged. "My home, my actual home is on Tarth. It's an island-"
"Southeast of King's Landing," he chimed in with a grin. "I know it. A Tarth from Tarth."
"Then you know it is conveniently positioned to travel."
"And the place you're at now? You own that too?"
"Ah, no. Rented along with the furniture. Except for a few items, everything we have is back home being looked after by Goodwin. He's a friend of my father's."
"Does he know why you are here?"
"Yes."
"Anyone else know that you are the Evenstar?" he asked, finding the answer strangely important.
Brienne's arms folded over her middle. "One. But he didn't believe me."
Who was he? And why do you look like even the memory of him makes you want to protect yourself?
The questions burned on the edge of his tongue but he bit the inside of his cheek instead.
He pulled into the designated parking for his apartment and grabbed the key card from where he left it on the dash before stepping out. Upon hearing her door close, he clicked the lock but hesitated when he didn't hear her steps fall in behind him.
She was staring up at his building, her mouth slightly ajar and he followed her gaze, trying to see it from her perspective. While technically a luxury apartment complex, it was far beneath what a Lannister would consider acceptable, if simply for the fact that it was in Riverrun instead of the metropolis of King's Landing.
"Grace!" he barked at her still form and laughed when she jumped and scowled.
"My name is Brienne!" she said through gritted teeth as she marched toward him.
"Of course, your Grace. I meant no disrespect. Just trying to be efficient."
Jaime swiped his card and opened the door with a dramatic flourish and gestured for her to go through. The glare he received was fierce but lacked any true menace and his lips twitched with mirth. Her eyes flicked downward and she was moving again, making a beeline for the elevator bank in the lobby.
His amusement faded as they rode the elevator in silence and Jaime tried to recall the last time he'd brought anyone to his place. Addam had stopped in for a beer every few months, but this felt different and Jaime excused it as the high strangeness that had suddenly engulfed his life.
I wonder if she feels it too? he thought as he pushed his key into the lock and glanced back to find her looking distinctly uncomfortable. Has she been alone with a man in his home before?
Jaime, for his part, had not brought a woman home in years; the last person at all, as a matter of fact, besides Jaime himself to be in his space was-
"Oh, so you aren't dead. I thought that last visit to Father may have driven you to suicide." A hand reached out from the back of an oversized armchair to settle an amber-filled glass upon a side table. "I personally would have killed the bastard first, but 'well' I thought, 'You do you."
"Tyrion-"
"I have been trying to reach you for weeks!" The hand disappeared and then his little brother was around the chair and before him, a crumpled newspaper fisted high in accusation.
Tyrion's righteous march froze when he saw Brienne.
Be kind, Jaime thought with a sudden well of panic. Though Tyrion did have a fondness for oddities and broken things, he also had a mouth that was more frequently concerned with being clever than being kind.
Tyrion's gaze flicked to Jaime for only a second but it was enough that he knew exactly what he was thinking.
Oh Brother, you will explain.
Both the look and his anger were gone in an instant and Tyrion was moving again, his hand outstretched. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we have met."
"Tyrion, this is Brienne Tarth. Brienne, this is my brother, Tyrion."
She dipped in order to reach his hand, mumbling a "Nice to meet you."
His brother's gaze passed over her with no small amount of sly deduction and Jaime stepped forward.
"What are you doing here Tyrion? Is Cersei alright?"
Tyrion rolled his eyes. "If something happened to Cersei, I would find out long after you did." He whacked Jaime in the arm with the newspaper and held it up for him to see. "I'm here for you, idiot. Addam said you'd taken up running on the trails but that he hadn't heard from you either."
Jaime tilted his head to better read the ink.
Sixth Disappearance in RiverRun Wood this Year.
Brotherhood Baffled.
"So answer your Godsdamned phone next time," admonished Tyrion but Jaime barely heard him as Brienne pressed into his side to read the article for herself.
"I should go," she said abruptly and pulled away.
"What? Now?" he asked but was met only with a meaningful glare that clearly stated 'of course'.
Jaime snatched back up his keys. "Fine, I'll drive you."
"There is no need. There is a bus stop nearby and I can find my way from there."
He stepped closer to her, his voice pitched low to keep Tyrion from hearing.
"Do not go out there by yourself."
"I'm just going to look. It's likely nothing but," she raised her phone from her pocket to wave it in his face, "I'll let you know if I find anything."
"It's not safe."
"Says the man who actively courted a knife fight today."
Jaime swore she almost sounded a bit fond beneath the hiss of her whisper.
"Here. Take this. It'll catch you up on a lot of things," she continued at normal volume and removed her battered notebook from an inner coat pocket. "I'll let you know if anything appears amiss."
"Immediately," he said with an emphatic nod to the phone in her hand.
With a nod, she pulled open the door, leaving Jaime to watch her walk down the hall to the stairwell and disappear.
When he turned around, the congenial expression on his brother's face was now narrowed in shrewd contemplation.
"Jaime, are you involved in something I wouldn't be able to get you out of?"
"I thought you could get me out of anything."
"I said wouldn't, not couldn't. Even I have my limits." His head tilted. "Who's the girl?"
"A friend," he replied and found that he meant it. "She was my student last semester-"
"For fucks sake. A student, Jaime?"
"She's not my student anymore!"
"And thank the Gods for that," said Tyrion before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you fucking her?"
Jaime's jaw worked, trying to find an accurate rebuttal to the absolutely ridiculous accusation but then his mind whited out and was replaced with a very vivid scene.
Him on his back with Brienne straddling him, her strong thighs pressed against his sides while her hands interlaced with his above his head.
"Yield," she whispered against the shell of his ear.
He shook his head sharply, his hand slashing through the air for emphasis. "Don't be stupid. That's your way of making connections, not mine!"
Tyrion's shoulders relaxed. "Good. The publicity a lawsuit would bring would be a nightmare, even if it was likely to get dismissed."
Jaime snatched up Tyrion's abandoned glass and downed the scotch, in part because he wanted a drink but mostly because he wished to annoy his little brother.
When he slammed back down the drink he found Tyrion watching. "You look good, Jaime. Better than when I saw you last and certainly much better than I anticipated after speaking with Addam." His little brother seemed to wilt. "I only wish to know you and find out what has been going on in your life once again. You are literally the only relation I actually like and it would be a shame to let that fall apart." Tyrion grinned, his arms spreading wide. "I mean, what if I need a kidney?"
"A liver more like it," grumbled Jaime.
"Ah yes. I suppose there is only one solution for you then," he said and picked up the glass to refill it from the bottle left on the side table and handed it to Jaime. "A pre-emptive strike."