Chapter Text
-I’m done. – Tyrion said, rising his head from the small table he was working on and removing his glasses.
Jaime reluctantly raised from the old couch he was laying on and got closer to take a look at his brother’s work.
The train tickets looked similar enough to the real ones, except for the filigrane, but this was the cheapest one they could buy that was the most similar.
He yawned and said:
-I’ve seen you do better works. –
-Well, why don’t you try and see what you can do? – Tyrion snapped - Even better, why don’t you write to father and ask him to send us the damn tickets himself? I can already see him gloating while he slips them inside the letter with his answers. –
Jaime flinched slightly at his sour tone, than clasped Tyrion’s shoulder with his hand.
-I’m sorry, that was rude of me, but I’m tired and cold. –
His brother nodded.
Bronn was the one usually duffing documents, licenses and tickets, but he had moved a couple of months prior, and they knew no one else who could help them.
Tyrion and Jaime had been running away from their father, Tywin Lannister, ever since Tyrion was eighteen; before, they had been living in a golden cage, surrounded by servants and getting everything they wished for with a snap of their fingers, but a cage nonetheless.
Jaime was the firstborn, along with his golden twin sister, Cersei: when they were little children life had been so easy. They spent their time playing with their mother Joanna, while they only met Tywin at dinner, when he inquired them about their day.
He wasn’t so happy to let them play so much instead of learning numbers and letters, but Joanna Lannister was having none of his complaints and simply shrugged and smiled, telling him to let them be.
“They are still young, let them have their way while they still can.”
Life wasn’t perfect, even back then, but it came pretty close to it: then their mother got pregnant once again, and while his little brother came screaming into this world, Jaime’s mother left it as gracefully as she had lived; he still remember entering her bedchamber that night and seeing her for the last time: Tywin had said he and Cersei must let Joanna rest, and forbid them from going to her, but he slipped out of his room anyway and headed for his mother’s door. He thought facing his father’s wrath was worth just to see her for a few minutes: quite brave for a seven year old.
She was paler than the sheets she was wrapped in, her golden locks were spread all over the pillow like a halo; her beutiful green eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at him: as weak as it was, that smile still warmed him from head to toe.
“Come closer, Jaime, I can’t see you properly from where you stand.”
He had sat on her bed and she had caressed his cheek.
“Are you getting better, mother? Cersei and I would like to try this new game tomorrow…”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, my little knight, I think I’ll have to leave soon.”
He had pouted at that and then asked, with great concern:
“Aren’t you coming back?”
Joanna’s eyes had been full of tears by then, and she had grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly.
“You have to promise me, Jaime, that you’ll be good to your younger brother and you will protect him. Your father is a good man, but right now he is driven by rage, and I am afraid he might do something terribly foolish as neglect Tyrion. Please, my little knight, promise me you will give love and solace to your little brother for me when I won’t be around anymore.”
He didn’t understand why she would leave and never come back, didn’t she love them? But he had promised anyway, and kept his promise throughout the years: when Cersei and father did nothing but ignore Tyrion and his needs, Jaime did what his mother asked.
His little brother was different from any human being he had ever seen: at some point he stopped growing and, if possible, Tywin became even more cruel to him; having a dwarf as a son was apparently a disgrace.
How his father could never see the great mind of his youngest son was beyond the golden twin: one night, some time after Tyrion had turned eighteen, he stormed out of Tywin’s office and headed for the door, telling Jaime that he had a choice to make.
“I know you’ve been trying your whole life to keep this family together, Jaime, the gods know too, but here and now is the moment you must choose.”
“What happened?” he had asked, startled: his brother had never showed such rage, not even once in his life.
“It doesn’t matter, please trust me when I say we should leave and never come back.”
His pleading eyes were enough to convince him, so Jaime follwed his brother out: he never knew what happened between Tyrion and his father.
They took every bit of money they had and used it to disappear: they changed their identities and paid a huge amount for two train tickets from Lannisport to Winterfell, where they bought a small house with what was left of the money and started to look for jobs.
They struggled through the years, but the situation had never been as bad as now: they had both been fired because the employer couldn’t afford to pay so many people anymore, they were litterally broke and a month away from selling their home in order to afford food.
Jaime sighed:
-When do we begin the casting? –
A couple of day after they had spent their last money, he was walking through the streets of Winterfell, looking for a bit of luck, hoping to find someone who would hire him.
The wind was so cold that he was afraid his nose was going to fall of from frostbite, so he had entered in a small inn seeking warmth.
There weren’t many people at that time of the day: as he approached the fireplace he overheard two men talking nearby.
“I was so sorry I had to fire that good man today, but the taxes are suffocating me, I cannot afford to pay more than three employees.”
“Tell me about it, these days the streets are full of desperate men looking for a job. Is there anybody left in this mad world who isn’t looking for work?”
“Well there is one man who is willing to give money, instead of asking them to someone else.”
“And who might be this fool?” the man barked out a laugh.
“The former lord of the island of Tarth, he is still looking for his daughter; they say he is willing to pay her weight in sapphires to whomever brings her back to him.”
“Then he truly is a fool, the poor girl certainly died years ago.”
“To those who says the same to him, he answers he will never give up: honestly, can you really blame him?”
Jaime left in a hurry and ran home, startling his brother when the door slammed behind him.
Tyrion listened to him and shook his head: “How are we supposed to find the lost daughter of this man if we don’t even know what she looks like?”
“Oh, come on, we will find some description of her on the newspapers if he’s been looking for her through the years, don’t you think?” as the dwarf was about to object, he had kept on speaking “Besides, who says we must find the real one? We only have to find a girl that is convincing enough.”
Tyrion’s smile was almost wicked:
“And father and Cersei called you the stupidest Lannister.”
-We must be at the theater in an hour, the candidates will meet us there.-
They both grabbed their jackets and headed out.
Brie was packing her things when Arya and Sansa ran inside the bedroom they shared.
-Are you really leaving? – Arya shouted.
-Mom just told us. – Sansa added, sitting on her bed.
The tall girl sighed, she hoped to tell her sisters about her trip after dinner.
-I was going to tell you tonight, but yes, I’m leaving tomorrow. –
-Why? Aren’t you happy here? – the youger Stark was glaring at her with her arm crossed.
-Of course I’m happy, I just want to know what happened to my family, that’s all. –
Unlike her brothers and sisters, Brie had been adopted by Ned and Catelyn Stark when she was no more than seven year old, after a year spent in an orphanage in the Stormlands.
She and Robert, the eldest child, were about the same age when she went to live with them; then came Jon, who was actually the son of Ned’s sister, Lyanna, and all the others through the years.
They were one big happy family, Brie couldn’t ask for more: they all bonded and played together, even if anyone had their own personality.
Brie knew she was adopted, Ned and Catelyn never kept it a secret from her, but she always felt a part of the family nonetheless; when she turned eighteen they told her she could start to look for her relatives, if she wanted to, but back then she felt no need of that.
In the following years, though, she had started to wonder if there was someone in the world looking for her, someone that maybe was still hoping to see her alive after all those years.
She was in an orphanage because her family had died in the train crash of the Stormlands; she was found thankfully unscathed, just behind the turn where the train derailed: it was almost a miracle.
“The gods protected you.” Was Catelyn’s general comment.
-We are your family, but you’re leaving us anyway! – Arya cried before storming out of the room.
Sansa shook her head and sighed:
-You know, she’s a bit too melodramatic about your departure, but she has a point: you have everything you could ask for here, Brie, we love you, it doesn’t matter that we don’t share blood, you will always be our sister. Even I can’t see what’s the point of your journey. –
Brie smiled, getting close to her sister so that she could hug her tightly; despite her youg age of sixteen, Sansa was so mature, but she still had those moments where she showed how young and sweet and innocent she was, even in her thinking.
-It is kind of a journey to the past, sister, to know where I want to go with my life, I must learn where I come from; besides, if one day Rickon or Bran would get lost, wouldn’t you want them to come back to you? –
-Of course, but it would be different. –
-How so? –
-They are my fa.. – Brie could see the understanding lightening up Sansa’s eyes.
The younger girl with auburn hair hugged her once more, then added:
-Just promise me that you’ll come back in one piece. –
Brie nodded, then resumed packing.
Dinner went surprisingly well, even though Arya kept glaring at her and refused to utter a single word to her the whole night.
The older of the Stark siblings, meaning Jon and Robb, took the news well, and wished her good luck, while Bran and Rickon started pouting and wanted to be both held by her until it was time to go to bed.
After midnight, as everybody else was asleep, she stood in the biggest room of the house, staring at the fire craking in the fireplace.
-I’d ask you what you’re thinking about, but I’m not completely sure I want to know. – Jon’s voice startled her; she turned and gifted him with a small smile.
Jon was like her, in a way, because he was an orphan too: his mother died giving birth, while his father was long gone before Lyanna even descovered she was pregnant. He arrived in the house about a year after Catelyn had given birth to Robb, so when she joined the three of them practically grew up together; unlike his brother Jon was a quiet child that turned into a reflexive and placid young man: some tought him cold and distant, but he was able to show great signs of affection.
-Well it’s a good thing you won’t ask, because there’s so much on my mind right now that I would not know that to tell you. –
He came closer and grasped her shoulder:
-I just wanted to say.. be careful, alright? And even if it’s though do not give up, you deserve to know about your parents and your origin. –
Brie covered his hand with her own:
-So do you, Jon. So do you. –
The following morning she grabbed her small case and left, hugging each member of the family and promising to come back as soon as possible.
Catelyn had given her a bit of money in order to buy the ticket from Winterfell to Storm’s End and had kissed her goodbye on the door.
Brie walked easily from there to the train station, where she stood in line for about an hour and a half; when it was finally her turn she found out the money she had were not enough.
-But it is four time the amount I have with me! – she tried to protest.
-There’s a new owner of the railway and he says this is the new price, if you can’t pay me then I can’t give you the ticket! –
She sighed, resigned and moved away from the desk: there wasn’t much she could do, beside going home and ask for more money, but she wasn’t sure the Stark could afford giving her more than what they already did.
-If you really want to go to Storm’s End – an old lady said grabbing her arm and using her to balance herself and walk toward the closest bench– you should ask to Jaime, I know he has a ticket to spare. –
-Oh, thank you! Do you happen to know where I can find him? –
The woman chuckled: - You should check at the old theater. –
It took her almost an hour to reach the building and getting past the blocked door, but once she entered, Brie was disapponted to see that it was empty.
The room was huge and full of velvet chairs, all covered in dust, as if it had been left unused for years, the curtain of the stage was closed.
She was about to leave when a little twich of the curtain captured her attention: she quietly put her case down and stepped onto the stage, her guard held high and her breathing slowed.
A second before she could move the fabric with her hand, all the light of the stage switched on, and a man came at her from behind the curtain with a metal bar in his hands; Brie instinctively grabbed the bar before he could hit her and held to it while rotating on herself: she sent the man flying down the stage, then jump the three steps connecting the stage to the stall and put the bar under his chin, a few inches above his throat.
When he looked up, the air got stuck in her lungs: he was definitely the most beautiful man she had ever seen; he had green eyes and golden hair, shorter on the back and longer in the front, and even in the dim light of the stall pit she could see his body was toned.
The man massaged the back of his head, wincing slightly, saying:
-Seven help me, but you’re a tall one. -