The tallest man Jaime had ever seen was waiting for them at the harbor with a small escort flanking him. His shoulder-long blond hair was so fair that it looked almost white; it reminded Jaime of the Targaryens. It was rumored that the Tarths had blood bonds with them, what wouldn't be so rare. Most houses were linked to many others after centuries, or even millennia, of marriage alliances. In any case, it seemed evident that there was some Valyrian blood in House Tarth's veins.
Selwyn's eyes were as intensely blue as the waters of the Narrow Sea surrounding the island, and there was a keen glint in them, in battle with a permanent inner suffering Jaime could perceive easily. That was the look of a proud and commanding man nearly destroyed by the succession of calamities that had taken his wife and three of his children; it was shown in the depth of his wrinkles, in the tiredness around his eyes and mouth and in the sorrow at the bottoms of his pupils.
Jaime instinctively developed a sense of respect he very rarely felt for strangers at first look. Even being evident that the man was struggling hard to stay afloat in the difficult tides of his life, he seemed to cling to some shred of strength which allowed him to carry on. Surely having one remaining daughter helped in that regard.
However, said daughter was nowhere to be seen. Lord Selwyn apparently hadn't considered her presence in the welcoming party necessary or important, and that piqued Jaime's curiosity. It was true that theirs hadn't been a great house since the last time a Tarth king ruled the island, and maybe because of their current lack of supremacy, the good lord thought that Tywin's son would never sink so low as to mingle with a lady under his station whom he didn't intend to include as a prospective bride. Perhaps the man wasn't wrong in his assumptions, as Jaime didn't much fancy putting his dubiously courteous manners on display for the sake of a woman he wouldn't ever marry or even see ever again, most probably. He'd also heard that the lady in question wasn't precisely a prodigy of beauty or grace, and even though he didn't truly think that a lack of physical beauty had to be a deal breaker necessarily, if it wasn't counterbalanced with other charms then it wasn't worth the effort.
As soon as Jaime and Tyrion walked down the gangway, Lord Selwyn greeted them politely and offered the whole group fresh mounts they would use during their stay. The Lannister party had left their own horses in the care of some stable hands in the mainland until their return from Tarth. The poor animals weren't used to being carried on boats and would have gone mad with stress, so the Lannister party would be provided with temporary mounts at their destination. Jaime, Tyrion and Lord Selwyn had specified such details in their exchange of missives prior to the visitors' trip to the island.
After a few minutes in which the newcomers got acquainted with their respective new horses, they all mounted and the whole entourage headed for Evenfall Hall.
It was rounding midday and the bright sun warmed Jaime's skin pleasantly. He hated the cold, and unfortunately winter was only in his second year and, according to the Citadel, it would last for at least another five or six years. Winter brought hardships, especially to the commoners. In the warmer southern lands, the effects of the cold and of the bad weather were much milder, but even so, the harsh claws of winter had an impact there too when it went on for too long.
The castle reflected the former splendor of the house which inhabited it, even if such splendor had declined. The architectural ensemble blazoned a discreet dignity which seemed to challenge the brunt of time valiantly. In comparison, Casterly Rock was a monstrosity that shouted power, riches and superiority. Despite being his home, Jaime had never felt it like such, especially since his mother's death. For him, home had been Cersei and Tyrion, but the castle itself was too huge, too imposing, too immeasurable. Jaime had never felt comfortable in it, as opposed to Cersei with her delusions of grandeur. To her, not even the ends of the world or of the sky would have been enough, in her thirst for power and dominance. Jaime didn't understand such thirst, being a man of simple needs and tastes. To him, it was enough with a roof and some walls, food on the table, a sword in his hand and, above all, Cersei between his arms. Well, he'd been learning for months to make do without her, and although he still missed her like crazy, the pain of her absence was healing little by little. It helped too that she had discarded him so easily, as if he'd just been disposable goods. That had broken something in him that couldn't be repaired.
The brothers' favorable expectations regarding the lord of Evenfall Hall were being confirmed. As they'd been informed, he was sharp witted and straightforward, and didn't lack a sense of humor either, what definitely tipped the scales in his favor. To Jaime, life was extremely boring without laughter and jokes. He'd perfected the art of wit, irony, sarcasm and throwing jibes. That trait of his could be very annoying and even infuriating for those who didn't take it well, like his father and sometimes Cersei, but with Tyrion, who also loved wit and laughter, it had become an endless source of delightful exchanges of nonsense and mockery. Both brothers had learned to use it as a weapon, often taunting the people who sought to offend them in any way.
It was their weapon against their father's ruthlessness, Cersei's cruelty and the harshness of the world. Being a Lannister didn't spare one from being submitted to ridicule or scorn, at least not if one wasn't Tywin. Tyrion, as a dwarf, definitely wasn't spared. The world was horribly unfair and evil, but it could be fought with humor.
Upon their arrival at the castle, everyone dismounted and the stable boys took care of the horses. Tyrion accompanied Selwyn into the building, eager for a snack, some wine and rest for his tired body, but Jaime, too filled with restless energy, decided to wander around the area. Selwyn offered him a servant to show him around, but Jaime declined, alleging that he wished to stretch his legs and preferred to manage on his own.
The first place he was interested to take a look at was the training yards, of course. As a swordsmand and a fighter, he was curious about his fellow brothers in arms, and Tarth had quite a reputation. He wanted to see with his own eyes if the tales hadn't been embellished.
As soon as he reached the yards, full with men sparring and training with varied weapons, the sight of a very tall person drew his attention. The height and the short pale blond hair immediately gave him the clue. He'd heard that Selwyn's daughter, Lady Brienne, was the tallest woman in the whole island and she looked and behaved like a man.
After some minutes watching her, he realized with a surge of thrill that she truly knew how to use a sword. She still had a lot to learn in order to match his own skill, if she ever was able to reach such a level of swordsmanship, but she fared quite decently, almost brilliantly. Certainly much better than a few of the men surrounding her. A simple glance around the yards was enough to assess the accuracy of his observations.
She was so focused in her task that she apparently hadn't noticed his presence nearby. That made him smile widely, enjoying the idea of taking her by surprise.
"So you must be Lady Brienne," he said aloud, to be heard above the clatter of metal against metal. He couldn't suppress the mirth from his voice, ignoring why he found her so charming. That unbidden thought startled him. Charming? She might kick your ass hard. And that made him grin even wider, to his slight puzzlement.
She turned around incredibly fast for someone her size. Her reflexes were excellent. And then he saw her face for the first time. She had her father's big sapphire eyes and her features were surprisingly delicate. Her porcelain complexion was kissed by the southern sun and somehow, that enhanced the intense blue of her irises. She sported a deep frown which was immediately replaced by shock at realizing who was intruding on her training time. Her jaw dropped and she remained still with the sword frozen in her hand, staring at him open-mouthed.
Jaime recovered quickly from his own shock and fascination.
"Eh... Yes," she replied awkwardly. "But call me just Brienne, please. I'm no lady." Right then she bowed quite clumsily, adding to his mesmerized amusement. He chuckled and responded in kind, returning her gesture, and searched her eyes again. He liked looking at them, a lot. "Uhm... You must be Ser Jaime Lannister," she added, blushing furiously. The hint of pink on her cheeks was lovely.
"Last time I checked, I was," he retorted, not being able to help himself. She brought up all his mischief, but not in an antagonistic or taunting way, like it happened to him with the people he disliked. He wished to get a rise out of her just for the mere pleasure of making her react, of watching the blush on her face, the flashing in her magnificent eyes. And he was also eager to see how she would reply to him, once the shock of their first meeting started to fade.
Her blush intensified and she seemed to wish to take a quick look around, as if she was desperately searching for a place to hide.
His mischief shot up a few notches.