Chapter Text
A Meeting At Highgarden
Brienne of Tarth is an ugly maid of four and ten, and she will be his wife.
She will be his wife because her father is good with ships, and because Jaime’s father is determined to go down in history as the man who conquered Essos. Selwyn Tarth is a celebrated captain, and his price for leaving his beloved island to help Tywin Lannister sail to glory was that Tywin arrange a good match for his daughter, Brienne. The few people familiar with her claimed she was the ugliest child in Westeros, and rather sulky, and insisted on learning to fight with a sword. This was the only part that had interested Jaime.
Tywin happened to be angry at him at the time of the negotiations, because Jaime had announced his intention to join the Kingsguard and give up Casterly Rock--and the obligation to have an heir. He’s not entirely sure whether his father figured that he was doing it to stay close to his sister, whom he had kissed for the first time a year earlier, and touched for the first time not long after that, and had hardly stopped since, and whose room he had been moved far away from in the castle. He thinks his father must at least suspect, because it suddenly became difficult to find a way to be alone.
When Tywin manages to convince the king to ban him from the Kingsguard, Jaime accepts it with grim resignation. He’ll never be able to talk back a deal made by his father.
Besides, Cersei has already been handed off to the dragons, that sop Rhaegar with his fucking harp. King Sop, since his mad father dropped dead of sheer paranoia, his heart gone still in his chest from seeing enemies at every turn. She would be Queen, what she had always wanted in her heart.
Anyway, he had already kissed the most beautiful woman in Westeros, the other half of his soul. No woman could offer him anything, so what did it truly matter who he married, even if it was the most hideous woman in the Realm? Frankly, it made him laugh a bit, and his brother, Tyrion, a dwarf, had a hearty laugh indeed when they heard rumors that she, at four and ten, was as tall as Jaime already, though he was already six and ten himself, and filling out a bit more than might have been desirable in the shoulders.
He had been sent off to squire at Crakehall and Brienne of Tarth had been sent off to Highgarden, Tarth itself having been ruled as too provincial a place for her to learn about running a great House. Tarth was geographically important in times of war--another reason to keep them close--but not especially wealthy or powerful, until now. Also, there were no other Ladies there to advise her.
That was almost two years ago now. Brienne of Tarth has been raised with the Tyrell siblings, Loras and Margaery, in the interim. Olenna Tyrell had sent him a letter, a very blunt letter, shortly after arranging his visit to Highgarden to meet his betrothed for the first time.
You have likely heard of the rumors of her lack of beauty, and while she has not grown into a pretty girl, she is young and strong and will bear you many children, which should please both your fathers. However, she will certainly never be a master of political intrigue. I do not advise taking her to court often. She can be very shy and awkward still. Nevertheless, she has wits and guts and will show them if she cares to. Most importantly, she has a deep sense of honor and loyalty and will do her utmost to make you a devoted partner and respectable Lady. She has a firm understanding of the importance of being the wife of a great Lord.
And Loras:
She is not a pretty girl, and she can be quite overly-serious and odd. She is actually quite good with a sword, as well as other weapons. It is entirely unbecoming, of course, for a maid of noble birth to be sword fighting in the sparring pit, but I cannot deny her skill. In any case, she is like a sibling to me and if you are rude to her in my home, I will give you cause to regret it.
And Margaery Tyrell, too, who paints a rather rosy picture of a sweet, young maiden with a ‘strong’ and ‘dignified’ stature, ‘luminous’ blue eyes, hair like pale silk, a very ‘interesting’ face with ‘darling’ freckles, and a wisdom beyond her years. Also, she had a perfectly healthy sense of humor--when she wanted. She loves to go on ‘great adventures’.
Meanwhile, he hasn’t heard a peep from the girl in question.
It’s a somewhat contrasting impression, an unconventional girl who loves adventure and challenging her foster brother to sword fights, but also a quiet, mannered girl devoted to her duty as the sole heir of her house.
It was intriguing enough to distract him from time to time on the tedious two-week trip from Crakehall to Highgarden, which he mostly spent sulking and missing Cersei, even though she hadn’t seemed especially devastated when he left for Crakehall a year earlier.
He had requested, almost begged, to be allowed to visit the Rock before he went on to meet his fate, but he had been rebuffed more than once. He feels at times that all he has is the memory of his sister to cherish, so long have they been apart.
Well, there are probably uglier maids somewhere in the Realm, but if there are, he hasn’t seen them. All of the traits that Margaery has detailed had sounded nice enough on paper, but in person, they seem to make a bizarre mish-mash of a girl, the likes of which would be frowned upon in King’s Landing. Her lips are plush and full, but almost to a fault, and teeth crowded behind them. The ‘darling’ freckles are everywhere, and her nose is crooked slightly to one side.
She is dressed in the Highgarden, with its rich embroidery and bold cutouts and bare shoulders. Which is good because the Westerosi style would look quite ridiculous on those arms. Cersei would have laughed at her. She better hope being the Lady of Casterly Rock allows her to make it fashionable so far north. If not, she’d look better in a tunic, frankly. Her skin is pale as milk, her cheeks stained pink. She is not quite as tall as him, but it’s a near thing. He wonders what it would-- will --feel like to embrace her.
She sinks into a respectfully deep but utterly graceless curtsy and meets his eyes for a brief moment before dropping them to the ground, flushing even redder. Her eyes are as beautiful as promised, indeed, they are the color of the sapphires they call her home of Tarth after. She hasn’t been bestowed a bosom as of yet, so the deep cut of her gown is not as provocative as it might be, showing only the reach of her freckles, as well as the reach of her blush. The middle is cinched, creating a waist where he imagines there isn’t much of one.
Her hair is pale and fine and part of it is pinned up, also in the Highgarden style. A crown of pale pink flowers is settled on top. They have obviously made a valiant effort to make her look like a sweet, lovely maiden fit for a Lannister husband. By the girl’s long-suffering look, she is embarrassed by the pretense. The expression is quickly squashed with a cautious glance at Lady Olenna.
Margaery Tyrell is the epitome of the Little Rose, delicate and charming, but with thorns that make it clear that she has been raised by Olenna Tyrell. Loras Tyrell is as arrogant and vain as he remembers. The four of them take tea and Margaery lays out the itinerary of his visit, alarmingly dense considering he will only be here for three days. It strikes him as a bit funny that this girl, two years Brienne of Tarth’s junior, seems more invested in their betrothal than his actual intended.
Still, she doesn’t sulk per se, just sits quietly, attempting to fade into the background, giving only brief answers to any comment about herself. However, when she’s comfortable with a topic, she meets his eyes and speaks passionately. She has some well-formed opinions on the state of the Reach’s granaries, of all things. When Jaime expresses his mild surprise, Loras scoffs and says, “If it’s not ladylike, Brienne is probably interested in it.”
With great dignity and without looking away from her plate, Brienne replies, “A lady must know how to run a household, and a household cannot run without bread.”
“Wise words,” Margaery says cheerfully. “She’s very wise,” she adds, pointedly, to Jaime.
Finally, Olenna declares that they will leave the two of them alone to get to know each other, but that someone will be watching them at all times, as Brienne of Tarth has a spotless reputation as a pious maiden, sword-fighting aside.
They walk silently to a hillside garden overlooking the abundant beauty of Highgarden. When they reach the furthest point from the castle, he turns to her and is stopped short for a moment by the quiet intensity of her blue-eyed stare. Her eyes are really quite astonishing.
He shakes it off and says, “Brienne of Tarth, you seem like a girl who will appreciate candor over coddling. Is that the case?”
She looks a bit impressed by the question and says, “It is, my Lord.”
“Then I will tell you truth. You needn’t attempt to impress me.” Her face shifts before he continues, “Unless your father makes a mess of things in the capitol, we will be married, whether either of us likes it or not.”
She blinks at him for a moment and pauses to consider her words. He is on the verge of snapping at her to spit it out when she says, “My Lord, I know I’m likely not what you expected for a wife--”
Jaime holds up a hand to stop her and says, “I never expected to have a wife, so have no worries there. In truth, my father is punishing me for wanting to join the Kingsguard and give up my claim as heir.”
Her eyes widen and she breathes, “You could have joined the Kingsguard ?” She sounds as excited as he might have at her age.
“I wanted to, but he won’t release me as his heir. Anyway, he needed a Master of Ships and a bride and your father gets him both. Besides, he knew I would hate having a fiance I had barely met.” He sighs. “Well, at least you don’t seem too boring. If you can’t be pretty, the least you can do is be interesting.”
She doesn’t flinch even a bit at the back-handed compliment. “I’m sorry this match will keep you from your service, Ser.” she says, with shocking sincerity.
“Yes, well, I don’t imagine you’re any more excited than I am.”
She hesitates and then says, “I couldn’t ask for a better match, my Lord.”
“But you probably could have done without being shipped off from your home to learn sewing and flower arranging and how to please your Lord Husband.”
She bites her lip and then quickly stops, with the air of someone who’s been told off for the action many times. “I love Highgarden.”
Jaime rolls his eyes and says, “Drop the courtesies and speak plainly. You realize you’ll probably never see your home again, don’t you?”
Her eyes are wet for a moment and then she quietly says that she knows very well, but that the best thing she can do for her home is to make this match and give heirs to Tarth. She’s the last of her line and she has a duty to her people.
“Are you always this serious?” he asks after a silence.
She frowns and says, “It’s a very serious topic!”
“Do you ever smile?”
She flushes and frowns harder, saying, “Not many have ever called it a pleasing sight.”
“Seeing is believing,” he shrugs. “At least stop grimacing like that.”
She huffs and turns away. She presses her lips together for a long moment and then turns and blurts out, “The swords.”
“Pardon?”
“The swords. I won’t give them up.”
He feigns a contemplative look, although he has already decided his response. Finally, he says, “I will make you a deal, my Lady.”
She looks suspicious at that. “A deal?”
“You can keep training with a sword...if you can prove you’re any good at it.”
A fire lights in her eyes and she straightens up. “Oh, I’m good. If the Master of Arms would let me train with Loras, I’d be better than him,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Oh, really? And what about me? Do you think you can take on a knight?”
“Of course not. That would just be stupid. But you’ll be plenty impressed,” she says confidently.
“Perhaps I’ll enjoy having a wife I can spar with.” She looks quite incredulous, but also quite intrigued. “So, are we agreed? Your fate will be decided at dusk in the training yard.”
“Yes,” she says happily. “Only we’ll have to make sure Olenna doesn’t find out, or she’ll be terribly cross.”
“If I tell her I like it, what will she have to be cross about?”
“It’s not ladylike .”
“All ladies are ladylike. How boring.”
That gets a chuckle out of her. Jaime decides this marriage will probably not be completely miserable.
“But Ser,” she says, leaning forward and looking so enamoured that he thinks she might try to kiss him or declare her love. Instead she says, “What’s it like being a knight? ”
She turns from a stoic, upright young lady to an excited child as Jaime regales her with stories from the campaign, from fighting against the Smiling Knight to saving Lord Sumner Crakehall. He recounts fond memories of Ser Arthur Dayne and a few hours pass before they’re interrupted by a servant fetching them for the mid-day meal.
This time is much more lively than the stiff atmosphere before. Brienne asks him, blushing, to tell them all about the Smiling Knight. Loras is half-interested and Margaery is bored to tears. Meanwhile, Brienne is as delighted as she was the first time. Olenna watches with cautious approval.
She gives him a good show in the training pit, proving herself more than decent, and she never lets a loss affect her determination. She gets up without complaint over and over, until they quit under the fear that she’ll be black-and-blue the next day and give away the game. Back in the castle, she asks coolly if she’s passed his test. When he says yes, she breaks out into a sincere grin that puts lights in her eyes.
Neither of them speak much at dinner out of exhaustion. Brienne of Tarth looks very pleased, indeed, and it at least suits her better than a frown. Jaime finds himself sharing conspiratorial looks across the table every now and then, suppressing a smile, until he remembers that he used to share the same looks with Cersei, and the thought is so strange that the food in his stomach turns heavy.
After dinner, at Lady Olenna’s subtle urging, Brienne approaches him and says, “Lord Jaime. Margaery and I sometimes sing and play the harp after dinner in the garden. Would you like to join us and listen?”
It’s rude to refuse, but the idea that he is here meeting his future wife for the first time while the girl he had sworn he would love forever is on the other side of the continent, is too surreal and too sad to swallow all of a sudden.
He takes a moment too long to answer, because she turns her stunning eyes from his, turning red. “I understand,” she says, and hurries off, past a frowning pair of Tyrells. He abandons the poor girl to the tender mercies of Lady Olenna, who will likely interrogate her about their afternoon.
His lays in bed with his thoughts whirling for what feels like half the night before he stops wallowing and makes a decision. Whatever his heart might want, Cersei is in the past, and she, at least, has not looked back at it too long. Brienne of Tarth doesn’t deserve his resentment for that. She’s as helpless as he is, and whether it’s a good match or not, it cannot mean that she expects his mistreatment.
He is a Knight. He must be fair and honorable. He vows to himself that he will be a good husband to her, that he will never smother her spirit, that he will not embarrass her. His lips won’t touch another’s beside hers for the rest of their days together.
He falls asleep, feeling gloomy, but satisfied with his decision.