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A week before the election, when the strain of managing Tyrion Lannister’s campaign field operations had her seriously considering day drinking, Brienne overheard the volunteers talking in the break room.
“Come on, Pia, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” That was Podrick Payne, volunteer coordinator and Brienne’s right hand.
Pia’s high, girlish laughter followed. “Oh, it was worse. So much worse. I sat in his lap and told him I’d been thinking about him since Harrenhal.”
Brienne knew exactly who Pia was talking about, because women all over Westeros had been panting after Jaime Lannister since he personally ejected a particularly odious protestor from his brother’s rally at Harrenhal, live on WNN.
Brienne could easily picture the lithe brunette sliding into Jaime’s lap, because she’d seen some version of that nearly every time the staff went out as they crisscrossed the continent campaigning for his brother. Last night Jaime had suggested they blow off some steam with the staff. Brienne had said she would go to the bar with them, but wasn’t in the mood to watch the endless parade of women hitting on Jaime. She’d snuck home instead, and fell asleep watching an old movie on TV. She hadn’t seen Jaime’s text (Where are you?) until this morning.
“Was I right?” Peck, Jaime’s assistant, asked expectantly.
Pia sighed heavily. “Yes, you were right.”
“Right about what?” That was Lewys Piper, who managed their social media accounts.
“Jaime,” Pia admitted. “He pushed me off him, nicely, and told me he was taken.”
Jaime was taken? That was news to Brienne.
She heard a pop can open. “I told you that, weeks ago.” Peck had learned that smug tone from his boss. It didn’t suit him.
“Well, who is it then?” Pia asked eagerly.
“No clue. He texts her a lot, and some nights he doesn’t answer his phone. That’s all I know.” Peck probably wouldn’t spill even if he did know who Jaime was seeing. He was quite loyal to his boss.
The door opened behind Brienne, and she froze, her face burning, begging the Mother that the person walking in hadn’t just been in the break room. The last thing she needed was to be caught in the supply closet eavesdropping on the staff. She picked up the pack of post-its and legal pad she’d come in here for.
The door closed and footsteps approached her.
“Spying on the kids again?” Jaime whispered from behind her.
“No,” Brienne whispered back.
“Could be that woman from the fundraiser, you know, the one in Riverrun? The one who kept grabbing his ass while they danced?” Pia mused.
Jaime stifled a laugh. “What are they going on about now?” he whispered in her ear. His body was right behind hers now, his breath on her skin and his warmth radiating against her back.
“No, no, it’s got to be the campaign chair in the Reach…. Margaery? The pretty one who organized the rally at Highgarden,” Pod chimed in.
Jaime wouldn’t let her escape now, not when there was fun to be had at her expense. “You told Pia you were taken,” Brienne explained.
“Ah, yes, when she made a rather clumsy pass at me.”
“You didn’t have to lie to her,” Brienne chided. “She would have taken no for an answer.”
“I think she was about two drinks past the edge of reason, or she wouldn’t have done it in the first place. Besides, I didn’t lie,” Jaime protested.
“He’s never going to tell us, not this close to the election,” Peck pointed out, to general grumbling on the far side of the wall.
“You’re not taken,” Brienne scoffed. None of them were. They’d been traveling non-stop for eighteen months, ever since Tyrion announced his candidacy for Hand of the King, leader of the Westerosi parliament. Who had time for a relationship?
Jaime pressed closer, his hand finding her hip. “I felt very taken the other night. Would’ve liked to repeat the experience last night, but you didn’t answer your damn phone.”
Brienne let herself lean back into his body. His lips brushed the curve of her neck. “That’s not the same.”
Jaime’s hand slid across her belly, holding her to him. “No? Maybe the first couple times I could pretend we were just stressed out and horny, but come on, Brienne. It’s been months.”
The first night had felt like a dream. They’d been sleep-deprived and panicking over last-minute arrangements for a rally outside an old fort in the heart of the Riverlands. At 2:30 in the morning Brienne had found herself sitting on a bed in a hotel room looking at Jaime over a pile of invitation lists and half-drafted speeches and security plans, and he’d reached for her, dragged her into a kiss and then down onto the crumpled papers. They hadn’t even gotten all their clothes off the first time, and they’d laughed afterward, dispelling the awkwardness.
“Not now, Jaime.” She wasn’t ready for this conversation, couldn’t afford the distraction.
“That’s not what you said the other night,” he teased, nipping at her shoulder.
No, the other night, she’d begged him to do a lot of things, and he’d given her everything she wanted and more. In bed, at least, Jaime refused her nothing. Out of bed he was more contrary, but she still trusted him more than any man aside from her father.
“After the election, we can talk, if you still want to.” Jaime would likely take a post in his brother’s government, and Brienne would move on to the next cause. There were endless injustices to fight in this world.
He wrapped his other arm around her and embraced her briefly before letting her go. “You’re impossible, you know.”
He usually chose stubborn or pig-headed , but the implication was the same. “You said that Tyrion winning was impossible when we started out, and now he’s up three points in the polls.”
“I will happily admit to being wrong on election night,” Jaime conceded.
Brienne turned around. “Did you come in for something or were you just hoping to spy on the troops? Assess morale?”
Jaime shrugged. He looked delicious like this, tired and rumpled with his jacket long gone, his tie loosened and his sleeves pushed up. “I was looking for you.”
“Well, you found me. Now you’d better go before someone else walks in here and gets the wrong idea.” She had to be twice as stern with him when he looked like this, or temptation would lead her astray.
Jaime rolled his eyes. “The right idea, Brienne, and I will find a way to prove it to you.”
And he did, a week later, when Jaime kissed her on a stage in King’s Landing in front of thousands of campaign supporters, surrounded by falling balloons and confetti as Tyrion’s victory was announced.