Chapter Text
Standing frozen in the middle of the street, Jaime Lannister felt for the first time in the thirty-two years of his life that he was on the outside looking in. Physically shaking his head, he started moving again, the bell rang when he opened the door and was kindly greeted by the same young man who used to work the Monday afternoon shift.
“Mr. Lannister, your usual?”, the young man asked with a smile.
“Please,” he said half distracted, his eyes glued to the same spot he had been staring for the last three minutes.
Like every male firstborn of the family, Jaime Lannister had no choice but to study Economics, he was actually thankful for it because had he been born after Tyrion, then he would have had to go into law and that would have been a grand pain in the neck. With a major in Economics, a minor in Art, and the threat to lose every single penny of his inheritance, Jaime Lannister joined the corporate world at the tender age of twenty-one. He knew he shouldn’t complain, he had a proper job before graduation, his own office, and name on a glass door. But a part of him couldn’t help but feel jealous when all his classmates took a few months off to travel or celebrated getting their dream jobs.
He had never dreamed of managing Lannister Enterprises, becoming a merger mogul or crunching numbers all day analyzing financial risks for possible purchases or sales or new investments. He had dreamed of traveling to the Free Cities, of working as a curator in the most important museums in the world, of getting his hands on ancient pieces of art that had been in the world before him and would, hopefully, remain in the world after him. He wanted to contribute to the history of the world even if it was by preserving its story. No, economics was not something little Jaime Lannister had dreamt of when sitting on his mother’s lap and listening to her talk about the paintings in their Casterly Rock estate and the pictures she took from their many travels.
Lannister Enterprises had started over a hundred years ago when his great-grandfather, Damon Lannister, started a little banking venture in the Westernlands. The company was inherited by Tytos Lannister, a man too gentle for his own good who almost managed to bankrupt the family with his lax policies and tender heart. If it weren’t for Jaime’s father, Tywin Lannister, the Lannister name would not be worth a penny. It was rumored that Tywin all but fired his own father when he started working in the company, but those were just rumors. Tywin Lannister took over at a young age, but that ambition and recklessness of youth paid off. Their little banking venture grew, and with the money earned, Tywin started buying companies, building them up before selling them, forty years later, everything was history. There were two things that Tywin Lannister cared about: results and results. He didn’t care how you did things as long as you got them done, he didn’t care if you were happy, sad, excited or bored, if he expected something from you, then you better deliver. And what Tywin expected from his firstborn son was to one day inherit the family company and do what was expected of him.
Working in a corporate environment made Jaime’s life much predictable. He woke up every day at six in the morning, had a protein shake for breakfast, and rode the elevator to the 21st floor of his apartment building where he would use the gym until 8 am. He liked working out first thing in the morning for two reasons, first, because there were fewer people than in the afternoons and second because it was the only way in which he could wake up and clear his mind for the day. Around 8 am when the rest of the people from the building started filling in; he’d go down to his 16th-floor apartment, shower, pick one of his many tailored suits and drive to Red Keep district, where the Lannister Enterprises central office stood. He would make one stop on the way to pick up a protein-packed breakfast and the first cup of coffee of the day.
For the last ten years, Monday through Friday, Jaime Lannister arrived at the Lannister building at precisely 9 am. He would greet the doorman, ignore the secretaries and the rest of staff and ride the elevator in silence to his office, where he’d work away until lunchtime. More often than not he’d have lunch with a possible client, a potential investor, his brother or if he was out of luck, his father. After lunch, he would go back to the office and alienate anyone who wanted to talk to him, get a recommendation, ask for a favor or try to bring someone into the company. He would work hard until 7 or 8, the extra hours allowing for the heavy traffic to die down and, in reality, he got most of his work done once his secretary was gone and didn’t pass any calls to him. As much as his morning workouts helped him clear his mind for the day, it was after five that Jaime did his best thinking.
He had come across his favorite Roaring Coffee store almost by accident. He had gone to visit a possible partner, and the meeting had been an utter waste of time, he had been in such a bad mood that he didn’t call the driver to pick him up, deciding to better walk back to work to clear his mind and then, there it was. Almost a hidden treasure in the middle of an incredibly quiet street not ten even minutes away from the Lannister building. He stepped inside with the idea of grabbing a quick coffee to go but stayed after realizing that the place was quiet, unlike other Roaring Coffee locations, he liked the music and the fact that the barista treated him with a kind smile and even dared to recommend a flavored coffee. He enjoyed that as he was waiting for his order, said barista said farewell to a customer and called him by name, that cool vibe he got from the moment he stepped in until he had to leave. And so, for the last two years he head blocked his afternoons from 3:30 until 5 pm, picked up his jacket, wallet and messenger bag and walked for eight minutes to buy his usually third cup of coffee of the day.
Yes, every weekday and some weekends for the last two years Jaime Lannister had walked to his favorite coffee place at the same time. He flirted Mya or Randa who usually worked the afternoon shift, ordered the exact same drink, sat at the exact same table, stayed for the same exact amount of time and left feeling reenergized and in a better mood. Every single damned day until that day, that Monday when he saw a… woman? He could swear that was a woman with pale skin and pale blond hair sitting in this spot. She had a coffee mug, a half-forgotten pastry and was typing away in a sleek looking laptop, one that looked almost like the one he had.
“Hey, Pod,” Jaime said as he forced himself to stop staring at the blonde woman, “I’ll take that to go.”
The look on young Podrick’s face was of utter confusion, the lad had been the first barista to learn his name all those years ago, and while they weren’t exactly friends, Jaime liked to think they had a relationship beyond the barista/customer thing that was going on. Quickly snapping out of it, Pod transferred the shot of espresso he had just pulled into a to go cup and finished making Jaime’s drink. Jaime took his drink from the bar and threw one last glance over his shoulder at the woman sitting on his table, wishing to find her putting away her things but was finally let down, the woman seemed to be in a whole different dimension.
“Thanks, Pod, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jaime said a little defeated as he walked to the door, in the background he heard a faded farewell as he crossed the door and walked back to the office.
Tuesday was hell from the get-go. He had placed his phone on the treadmill plate for a quick 3 miles run to close his workout; everything was going fine up until an incoming text message made the phone buzz and slip out of the holder. The damned thing fell to the band, and in an attempt to not step on it, Jaime ended up tripping and landing hard on his left arm. The fall knocked the air out of him, when he got up the pain in his arm was piercing, and upon checking the phone, he found out it was just a promo from some department store. As if a physical injury wasn’t enough, some jerk rear-ended him on a red light, it wasn’t a big hit, it was barely a scratch but Jaime was already in a bad mood, and he made sure to make the idiot pay for what he did. It was well past 10 in the morning when he stepped into his office only to find a reminder that he had a 10:30 with accounting for which he had prepared squat. So his morning went from bad to worse to worst, and the icing on the cake was, of course, lunch with not only his father but his sister as well.
Jaime’s relationship with Cersei had once been golden, just like the two of them. Being twins, they were very close during their childhood, going up and down, exploring Casterly Rock, discovering their personalities, likes and dislikes. Cersei had always been the most ambitious out of the two of them, the three of them once Tyrion arrived, and it had been that ambition what strained and finally damaged their relationship beyond repair.
When they turned sixteen, Tywin gifted each of them a family heirloom, Cersei got a beautiful sapphire pendant that had belonged to their mother and Jaime got an old fountain pen. The look of joy in Cersei face when she saw him getting an old pen hurt his feelings, he knew his sister was vain but how could she be that selfish, that mocking smile didn’t last long, though. Emotionless as ever, Tywin had them sit down and explained to Cersei the story behind a pendant, how it had been the first gift he had ever given to their mother, Cersei smiled her fake smiles and asked how much it was worth, Tywin said a stupid amount of golden dragons. Then he turned to look at Jaime and told that the fountain pen was the one with which Damon Lannister signed the legal documents when he started the family business. The pen had been passed down to Tytos and then to him, and now, as heir to the company, Tywin was giving it to his firstborn son. Cersei had been furious; she had thrown a tantrum saying that she wanted to run the company, that she had better grades, was more gracious and that Jaime was the stupidest Lannister in the family. On the night of his sixteenth name day, Jaime lost a sister, gained the weight of the world on his shoulders and received an old pen in exchange.
Lunch was tense as usual, Cersei wouldn’t be CEO one day, but she still sat at the board, had a fair amount of shares, and she loved displaying her superiority in the hopes of changing their father’s mind about management. When lunch was over, Jaime could feel a migraine coming and instantly knew that if there was a day in which he needed his little sanctuary, it was that very Tuesday. He accepted his father offer for a ride back to the office and pretended to get a phone call when they reached the building, uninterested, Tywin walked ahead, once he was out of sight, Jaime put the phone away and started walking.
He didn’t look through the window; he didn’t even look both ways before crossing the street because the gods were having a field day with him and a few raindrops had started to fall. Entering the coffee shop, Jaime let a sigh out as the aroma of roasting coffee beans filled his lungs; the soft music eased his nerves, and the pretty smile on Randa’s face made him feel a little better. He liked Randa; she was always checking him out when he was a good twelve years older than her.
“Did you miss me while I was on vacation?”, Randa asked as she pulled a shot of espresso from the machine.
“How could I not? You know you’re the only person I trust to make me try new coffee beans. What’s in for me today?”
“A strong and aged blend from Essos, just like you Mr. Lannister,” Randa said as she presented him with a cup of steaming hot coffee.
“Are you calling me old, dear?”, Jaime asked as he extended his company credit card.
“Oh no, Mr. Lannister,” she said with fake concern, “I’m calling you strong and exotic.”
Jaime Lannister had learned that there was a point during flirting in which the best exit technic was just to smile and remain silent, and that was what he did. Instead, he grabbed the ceramic cup and took a sip as he turned around. In a split of a second, the good mood that Randa had stirred up in him was gone. There she was again, the same wench who had dared to steal his table the day before. Again she was on her computer, looking deep in concentration. She wasn’t typing this time; she was just there staring at her screen, a forgotten sandwich on her plate.
“Is everything alright, Mr. Lannister? I can give you another coffee if you didn’t like that blend” Randa offered, this time her concern was real.
“Oh, no, no, the blend is great. I just… I’ll find somewhere to sit”, Jaime said as he scanned the room and found his back up table, the one he hadn’t used since the third or fourth time he visited the café before he discovered his favorite spot.
He stayed for about an hour, drinking his coffee and stealing glances from behind a magazine. Thirty minutes into his stakeout, the blonde woman stood up, and his heart leaped thinking that she’d gather her things and get the hell out. Instead, she picked up the phone, answered a call and asked Randa if she could reheat her sandwich. He felt betrayed when Randa smiled at the giant woman and agreed. As the woman waited for her snack, Jaime took the chance to pay closer attention to her. She was tall, incredibly tall even in flats, and she didn’t look like she worked in any corporate office nearby dressed in slacks and a hideous white shirt. Her stride was purposeful, and although he couldn't hear her voice, he was sure it must have sounded as confident as the way she walked. Bored and aware that she wasn’t going anywhere soon, Jaime picked up his jacket and walked to the door, he thought the woman stole a glance at him as he walked out but Jaime couldn’t blame her, he knew he was good looking.
On Wednesday afternoon she didn’t have her laptop opened, she read from some printed pages, a red pen in hand and glasses perched on her nose. Standing by the bar, he took a moment to look at the woman’s face, she had freckles, a lot of freckles, her nose was crooked, and her lips were thin. She frowned as she read and Jaime wondered if maybe she was a teacher, she looked like one, with her boring dress pants and another solid color shirt. Being honest, he didn’t care if she was a teacher or not, he didn’t care if she worked for the fucking space program, he just wanted his table back. He could certainly smoke her out, right? He was a stubborn man, everybody said so, he was well known for not giving up, and although their ancient family crest showed a lion, some people thought of him as a snake, twisting around his prey and squeezing until it died. With a smirk on his face, Jaime took his cup and sat on the empty table behind the blonde giantess. He started humming, that surely drove him nuts so it must at least bother someone who was clearly trying to concentrate on her reading. He tapped his fingers loudly against the table and completely offbeat. He played videos on his phone without any earphones and five minutes into his disturbing charade, he felt a death glare, heard a throat being cleared. A big triumphant smile took over and then fell as the woman reached into her bag and pulled a pair of noise-canceling earphones. Cursing under his breath, Jaime drank his coffee in one long gulp and left.
If Tuesday was hell, Thursday was heaven. His arm felt good as new; his insurance company assured him that the poor bastard who had scratched his beautiful car would have to cover the overpriced fee of his favorite garage and his father called to announce he would need to cancel a meeting because he needed to fly somewhere for an emergency. The skies were blue and clear, and there was no chance of Tywin Lannister showing up in his office until next Tuesday.
With a bounce in his step, Jaime decided to indulge himself and went for a beer and a burger to a nearby little diner in the area. After a double cheeseburger, a large order of fries and a beer, Jaime went back to the office, phoned a few clients and decided to call it a day. For a minute he considered going straight home but he was having such a good day that he was sure he’d find his table empty, it was Thursday after all, and Thursdays were usually slow days at Roaring Coffee. The insurance company had picked up his car, but he didn’t mind walking, he’d take the subway back home before rush hour, and everything would be okay; throwing his bag across his shoulder, Jaime started walking.
You have got to be kidding me, he thought when he stepped into the coffee shop and saw the blonde giant pick up her coffee and walk straight to his table, You have got to be fucking kidding me.
“Hey mister L” Mya’s soft voice greeted him from behind the bar, her eyes following the blonde woman as well, “Thought day?”
“It was actually going fine until two minutes ago,” Jaime answered bitterly, had he left the office five minutes earlier he would have beat the woman to his spot, “Can’t you put a reserved sign or something?”
“You know we can’t do that mister Lannister,” Mya replied trying to hide a smile.
That time he didn’t even try to disturb the woman, he paid for his coffee and walked straight out.
So much for a nice Thursday afternoon, he thought.
His Friday 3 o’clock was running long; he hated when meetings ran long. Jaime Lannister was a busy man, and for that reason he loved punctuality, he believed that if you scheduled a two-hour meeting, the meeting should last exactly 120 minutes, it was a matter of respect. He had agreed to meet some intern at 3 and had clearly said that he could give the lad thirty minutes, it was now 3:45 and the man was not shutting up. Jaime had tried to be polite, gave clear signs that the boy should wrap up the meeting, he even checked his watch very visibly but to no result. Finally, at 4 pm, Jaime stood up and wrapped up the meeting. Leaving a dumbstruck intern behind, he left the room in desperate need for a coffee.
He could see her from half a block away; it would have been hard not to with that hideous pink blouse breaking the pristine decoration of the coffee shop. Furious, Jaime entered the store and saw Pod working behind the bar.
“Podrick!”, Jaime called as he placed both hands on the counter, “Who the hell is that woman!” he added rudely pointing at the blonde.
He didn’t give the poor lad time to answer before anything could be said, Jaime was striding across the floor and placing a big hand on the back of one of the empty chairs. Big blue eyes, the bluest eyes he had ever seen in his life, met his with a slight hint of fear and much disbelief.
“Can I help you?”, Her voice was exactly what he had imagined it to be, strong and confident, her statement short and to the point. He might have liked her if she was not a spot thieve.
“Yes! Yes you can. What the hell do you think you are doing, sitting here at this table every day.”
“Writing”, she replied plainly, if there had been a hint of fear in her eyes, it did not show in her voice.
“So you’re a writer then? Of course you are, this damn city is full of writers”, he said throwing his arms in the air, a bit dramatic even for him but he was reeled up, and he would not stop, “What do you write then? Blogs? Reviews? Insightful little pieces for indie newspapers?”
“The Oathkeeper series.”
The woman’s voice was cold, cold as her blue eyes, and Jaime’s mouth dropped. The Oathkeeper series… he liked the Oathkeeper series, he had every single book in hardcover and first edition but those books were written by a man, there was no way this woman was the author of those books unless… unless she wrote under a penname. Jaime closed his mouth and lifted his chin, a golden B. Tarth printed on a little black notebook caught his eye: B. Tarth… B. Tarth, why did that sound familiar? Adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, Jaime Lannister turned around and left the coffee shop. He didn’t run home, but there was a certain determination in his step that made him feel restless as he rode the stupid subway. When he finally entered his apartment, he threw the bag on the floor and dashed into the bedroom. The book was there, on his nightstand, picking it up slowly, he read the name on its spine and cursed.
Every other week Jaime Lannister forgot all about tailored suits and designer clothes, put on a t-shirt and jeans and met his brother Tyrion at The Hound’s Bar over at Flea Bottom. Drinking with his little brother should have been considered an extreme sport, for someone as short as Tyrion, that damned half man could drink a lot. It had taken Jaime many years of drunk nights and bursting hangover mornings to finally come to terms with the fact that just as he would never outsmart his baby brother, he’d never outdrink him either. They started that little tradition after Jaime's first day at work, Tyrion with a magnificent fake ID, had made it his mission to save his older brother’s soul through the healing power of alcohol. Through the years they had gotten used to it, neither of them would admit it, but the brothers looked forward to their meetings in that dark bar on the wrong side of town.
“I’ll take a double Manhattan,” Jaime called over the bar as he scanned the room for his little brother.
“Rough day, Lannister?” The raspy voice of Sandor Clegane asked from behind the bar. They had known each other since high school, and although they weren’t friends, Jaime did think of Sandor Clegane as something more than just an acquaintance, and how could he not, when the Hound had carried his drunken ass to the apartment upstairs more than once for him to sleep his hungover.
“You have no idea,” Jaime replied as he took his drink, “Have you seen my functional alcoholic brother?"
“My best customer is in the corner, make sure to order food this time, I don’t feel like hauling the Lannister brothers up the stairs tonight.”
Tipping his glass towards Clegane, Jaime walked to where his brother sat nursing a drink and reading a book, that brother of his would always find himself buried in a book or between a woman’s legs. Sitting down, Jaime waited for Tyrion to finish the paragraph or chapter or whatever had his attention at the moment, he had learned long ago that whatever he said while Tyrion read was a waste of breath. Three minutes later, Tyrion closed his book, finished his drink and signaled the waitress for a refill before addressing him.
“Big brother,” Tyrion greeted as he picked up the menu and pretended to scan its contents. Clegane hadn’t changed the menu since the opening of the place; he hadn’t printed new ones either by the feel of them, and they did always end up getting the same thing when they got food. “Should we try something new?”
“Should you become a silent brother?”, Jaime asked with a smile, “We’ll take a large order of everything nachos,” he told the young thing that left a drink before his brother.
Despite being younger, Tyrion had an old soul, that and his passion for books and knowledge made him the person that Jaime went to for advice, even if he would most times end up not listening to a single word and doing whatever the hell he wanted. While Cersei had always disliked Tyrion, and quite openly, Jaime had a soft spot for his baby brother, and when Cersei turned her back on him, it was only natural for the two brothers to grow closer, something that annoyed Cersei royally. Still, it wasn’t until Jaime started university that they bonded over their frustration of never meeting Tywing Lannister’s expectations.
“Hey, Tyrion,” Jaime said as he nursed a second drink and his brother pushed around some nachos, “did you know B. Tarth is a woman?”
Many years ago, Tyrion had recommended the books to him. His brother knew how he hated reading, how he could never find something that got his attention long enough for him to actually enjoy sitting down and traveling to a new world in his imagination. Now, six years later, the brothers often discussed the Oathkeeper series while drinking and once or twice they had waited in line for the newest releases of the series instead of ordering them online.
“Of course I did.”
“How? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to find an excuse not to read the books, and you can be quite an arrogant dick. Anyway, you know how sometimes I help out Sansa Stark review legal documents just to piss off Tywin? Well, they represent Brienne Tarth.” Tyrion said, a second later, something clicked in the little man’s mind “Wait, why? Jaime, what did you do!”
With an arrogant smirk, Jaime started telling Tyrion how on Monday morning a woman had the nerve to sit in his favorite table at the little coffee shop he loved so much; he carried on to tell him about finding her there on Tuesday and trying to disturb her enough to leave on Wednesday. He told him how on Thursday he had tried to reserve the table and how earlier that day he had just had enough and approached the woman, ready to give her a piece of his mind, until she coldly replied she was a writer and then he went and screwed everything up.
“Let me see if I got this right,” Tyrion said when Jaime finished talking, “You made an ass out of yourself in front of the author of one of your favorite book series because she happens to like the same table you do?"
“When you put it like that it makes me sound awfully petty, it’s not just a table, bro.”
“It is just a table, bro,” Tyrion said suddenly serious, “Stay away from her Jaime, just trust me on this one.”