Chapter Text
Brienne was furious. Her father had been nagging her again whether she was bringing someone home this year for Sevenmas. Just like he had last year and the three years before that. For her birthday and his and every bloody holiday in between and she was just done. She was an accomplished woman. Well, she was working as a research assistant under one of the most accomplished professors in all of Westeros. She was getting her PhD and had published a bunch of articles with Catelyn on the age of heroes, ancient weaponry and battle strategy. But she admittedly didn‘t have much of a social life except for her odd lunch dates with Sansa and Margery or the even odder nights out with Sansa, Margaery and Loras with Renly as a more recent addition. So, it’s really not her fault that when her father had started asking about her bringing someone home for the holidays, her stupid mouth had run away with her.
The only problem was now she actually had to find someone she could bring home. If things had been different she might have asked Renly, but he was with Loras now, celebrating Sevenmas up in Highgarden with the rest of the Tyrell’s and her father knew that he was gay anyway.
She had come home crying in senior year when she had found out about it, and her stupid little crush had literally been crushed, and her father had been left to pick up the pieces.
No Renly wasn’t an option, and neither was Loras. She needed someone else. Someone her father didn’t know. Someone, she could fake break up with quickly.
Craigslist was out of the question with all the weirdos and creeps, but she had to start somewhere.
So, a couple of minutes ago, she had sent a plea for help into their group chat in the hopes that either Margaery or Sansa had an idea of what she could do, but so far, nothing.
Brienne was just biting her lip, pondering what other options she had while simultaneously hating the whole situation. Maybe she should just call her father and tell him she lied.
No, that really wasn’t an option either. If she did her father would just try to set her up with someone again and invite over one of his friend’s son or however else might be unfortunate enough. Ron and Hyle had been sufficient proof that her father’s taste in men was even worse than her own. No, she needed a plan and quickly, even though she hated the whole deception.
Her phone pinged with a message and Brienne scrambled over to the sofa where she had thrown the bloody thing after posting her question in the group chat, still furious with herself, but more so with her father.
Marg: Just make a Tinder profile
A few seconds later, her phone vibrated in her hand, and a message from Sansa appeared.
Sansa: That’s such a good idea.
Brie: No!
Marg: What else then? You won’t do Craigslist, and you don’t want Tinder. Is your saviour magically gonna appear? I doubt it.
Sansa: Margaery!
Marg: What? I’m just being honest.
Sansa: Still, you don’t have to be so forward about everything.
Brienne sighed. It was nice that Sansa was defending her, but Margaery was right.
Brie: She is right though. He isn’t going to magically appear and save the day. If something like that were to ever happen, it would for one of you two and not me.
Marg: Not with that attitude, it won’t. Just make the Tinder profile. There is undoubtedly going to be some dumbass that’s getting off on helping you that you can just dump directly after the holidays.
Sansa: I have to say I’m going to have to agree with Margaery. Either tell your dad or do the Tinder thing.
Brie: Okay, okay. I’m doing it now. See you in an hour.
Brienne sighed and went into the app store to download the damnable app.
She filled out her profile only writing, „Need someone to play my bf during family dinner on Sevenmas,” in her bio and uploaded the picture she had taken for the university website. Then she proceeded to swipe right on everyone until it was time to head out for their groups weekly Saturday evening drinks.
It had been a couple of days since she had created her Tinder profile and so far all she had gotten was the occasional lewd comment, men telling her it was no wonder she needed to ask someone to play her date, weird requests to send pictures of her hands, feet and legs and the occasional wild dick pic. But nothing that was actually going to help her out of this mess she had gotten herself into.
Her phone moaned in her pocket. Margaery had gotten her hands on it during their night out, had recorded herself moaning and set it as the notification tone for the app. Brienne sighed. She sometimes really hated her friends.
With the swipe of her finger, she unlocked her phone, anticipating to find either another rude comment or weird request in her inbox. What she hadn’t expected was the message actually waiting for her.
If you still need someone to play your bf, I would be up for the job ;)
Well, damn. She hadn’t expected this to work. She really hadn’t, but the sudden relief that flooded her was the best thing to happen to her since she had ended the call with her father. That was until her mind started supplying her with all the things that could go wrong in this very strange scenario. The guy might just be playing. He might be a dick out to get her hopes up before being even ruder when he told her she was too ugly for him to manage playing her boyfriend believably. He also might very well be a serial killer out to find an unsuspecting victim in a desperate woman like her.
Shit. Brienne tapped on his icon anyways and was suddenly assaulted by the most handsome man she had ever seen. Long golden waves framed his face, accentuating his strong jawline hidden in a smattering of stubble that she would give anything to run her hands along. His cheekbones were high and so prominent that he might cut glass with them. But all that faded when one looked at his beautiful green eyes, that sparkled with mischief, and the faint tug of a smile at his lips made him look a bit wicked as if he was ready to devour you like a hungry lion.
This definitely had to be a ruse. There was no way in hell this guy wanted to help her out, much less spend time with her while pretending to be physically attracted to her. No one in their right mind would believe that he wanted her, not even her father who thought she deserved the world.
She skimmed his bio, just to be sure, but there wasn’t much info on him. Just his height, he was almost as tall as her, which surprised and at the same time didn’t surprise her at all, and that he was currently at Winterfell University.
She tapped out of his profile and back into their conversation, mulling over how to respond. She didn’t want to come across as rude, but she also wanted to unmistakably clear that she wasn’t going to play along with his game.
In the end, though sarcasm won out.
Sure you are.
She was just about to lay her phone down on the coffee table ready to leave it all be until tomorrow and switch on the TV to watch the latest episode of Blue Knight and Goldenhand when Margaery’s tell-tale moan echoed through her living room. She really should keep her phone on silent mode or change the notification tone.
Yes, I am. Seriously.
Brienne rolled her eyes.
Why would you?
Without much wait, another message appeared.
Because I want to.
She groaned. This guy was probably just having a laugh at her expense, and she wasn’t having any of it, but she also wouldn’t let him have the last word.
Of course you do.
Within seconds of her reply, the tell-tale little dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, announcing that “Jaime” was writing.
Don’t tell me what I can and can’t want. Just accept that I actually want to help you.
Oh, so he wanted to play it that way. Fine.
But why?!
His reply came lightning fast.
Why not?!
She groaned again. Well, here went nothing. He seemed adamant enough in helping her. Now it was time to dish out the reason why the mere notion was laughable.
Brie: Have you looked into a mirror today?
Jaime: Yes.
Brie: See.
Jaime: I truly don’t.
Brie: Urgh. You look like you belong on a GQ cover and I look like someone assembled me out of spare parts. No one is going to believe you are actually my boyfriend.
The response she got to that was very eloquent.
?
Brienne sighed. He really must be the dumbest man in existence, but before she could reply another message came through.
I really want to help you, though.
She rubbed her hand over her face, uncertain. He seemed genuine enough. He hadn’t given up, and the worst that could happen was that she met him and he laughed at her then. She had suffered worse, she could take it. If he didn’t, she might actually be a step closer to solving her damn problem. So, in the end, she caved.
Fine, okay. Tomorrow, 7pm at the campus cafe. I want to make sure you’re not a bloody serial killer with how adamant you are on helping me.
His response was instant.
Good, I’ll be there.
She sighed and threw her phone to the other side of the sofa, hoping it would stay silent for the rest of the night. Thankfully, it did.
The next morning bloomed cold and crisp, bringing with it new snow.
Winterfell saw a lot of snow and Brienne had lived here for several years now, but the swirling flakes still held its wonder every time she looked out of the window.
She hurried out of her flat skipping breakfast as she was feeling queasy anyway and headed down to the station to catch the tram that would take her to Winterfell University.
Cold, and bedecked in snowflakes she arrived at the office she shared with Catelyn.
As she unwound the thick scarf from around her neck and draped it and her thick coat over the hanger by the door, Catelyn looked up from her computer.
“Good morning,” she greeted Brienne, but as soon as she took her in Catelyn frowned. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Brienne replied hesitantly, unsure where this was going. “And a good morning to you too.”
Catelyn was still scrutinising her. “Are you sure? You somehow look a bit off. A bit paler than usual.”
“Yes, I’m perfectly fine, just feeling a bit queasy and I skipped breakfast, but I’m going to go down get a sandwich and a coffee once I looked at the emails that have come in since yesterday.”
“Good. I really don’t want you to go to class without breakfast.” Catelyn glanced at her screen for a second before her gaze focused on Brienne again, who had by then sat down at her desk. “And tell me if you're not feeling better, will you. I don’t want you getting sick before Sevenmas.”
“I will don’t worry.”
But the queasiness that had settled in her stomach didn’t fade. Not after the coffee and sandwich, she had promised to get and not after the late lunch she had with Sansa.
Instead, she fidgeted and bit her lip constantly while she reworked the outline of hers and Catelyn's new article. She felt out of sort, and it only got worse the later in the day it got. When Catelyn finally headed home, eyeing her worriedly again, she reassured her once more that she was totally fine, even though by that point she didn’t believe it herself anymore.
“Well, take care, will you. And if you aren’t any better, stay home tomorrow. You don’t have any lectures anyway, so take it easy.” Brienne nodded as Catelyn gave her a motherly smile and pulled the door shut after herself.
She glanced at the clock in the corner of her computer screen. Almost another two hours till she could head out to meet her prospective fake boyfriend.
Brienne sighed and dug her phone out of her pocket and opened the app. Maybe she should just cancel. She really wasn’t feeling well, but then again, she wouldn’t get anywhere if she did. He was her only chance so far. Better take the fall now.
She glanced at the top of the screen where his smirking picture icon looked back at her and proclaimed his name to be Jaime. She should probably remember that if she was really going to meet him later.
Brienne worked for another hour, replying to student e-mails and planning her next lecture, before heading out early. She really didn’t have anything else to do, and the university didn’t pay her after hours, so she thought that a nice hot cup of tea would maybe ease her queasy stomach a bit.
Bundled up, she trudged over the campus. It was quite serene and beautiful now that most of the students were already gone for the day and a nice sort of quiet hung over the buildings. Fairy lights twinkled in the windows of office and seminar buildings she passed and the Sevenmas tree in the central square already stood proud and tall, sporting the Stark colours of old, white and grey.
The quaint little café sat huddled between the larger and taller buildings like a small haven, where students met to wind down after a long day. Sevenmas music played softly in the background, and the ever-present hum of conversation lay in the air as Brienne entered.
She ordered her tea at the counter, smiling at young Podrick sitting at a table with his friends. The young man had started to work with Catelyn and her at the beginning of the semester as a student assistant, wanting to dive deeper into research and trying to get the hang of it before going into his bachelor’s thesis.
Once she had her tea in hand, she made her way over to her favourite spot by the window, flopping down into an armchair after having shed her coat and scarf.
Time passed as she sipped on her tea, watching people hurry by outside, bundled up in thick coats and scarf scurrying to get home and out of the cold. She didn’t even know what time it was when suddenly someone cleared their throat next to her.
“Brienne?” The questioning, very masculine voice didn’t register at first, much less that it was waiting for her answer or some form of acknowledgement until it asked again. “I’m sorry, are you Brienne?”
She looked up then and was met with those damnable green eyes that had stared at her just yesterday from her phone screen. And to say that the picture didn’t do him justice would be an understatement. How someone that handsome would be even more so in reality was beyond her.
“Um – yeah. Sorry, yes. I’m Brienne,” she stuttered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. He smiled and plopped down in the armchair opposite her, lounging there like he was at home and as if he was posing for a photoshoot all at the same time.
“Well, Brienne, as you can see. Very decidedly not a serial killer.” He grinned at her, showing a hint of very white and very straight teeth.
“I think that’s for me to decide. All that has been confirmed is that you didn’t put up fake pictures of yourself.”
“Suit yourself.” Jaime shrugged, but the smile was still playing around his lips.
“So, your profile said you were studying here at WU,” Brienne started, tapping her nails against the ceramic of her empty cup.
“Well, not really. I’m doing my habilitation at KLU in history with a special focus on weaponry and battle strategy, and I came here for the vast library the Stark’s have accumulated over the years especially regarding the Long Night and the Battle for the Dawn.”
If it had been socially acceptable, Brienne would have gaped at Jaime. Hell, she would have gaped anyways if she didn’t have an ironclad hold on herself and wasn’t already way to flustered in his presence but him going all nerdy over history and more so her topics of expertise was just too much of a coincidence and not at all what she had expected. He looked like he was going to university because daddy paid for his education. He looked like he would be studying management or law maybe, but he didn’t look like a history major. Much less someone who was doing his habilitation in history.
She must have been staring because, at some point, Jaime started waving his hand in front of her.
“I’m sorry. That was just really unexpected.” He just shrugged and leaned forward, trapping her with those eyes of his.
“So, what do you do? You study here, don’t you?”
“No, not exactly. I did my master’s degree here, and now I’m getting my PhD with Catelyn Stark of the history department.” Jaime just blinked, speechless. She had probably looked much the same after he had told her what he was doing. Though to give him credit, he did recover faster than she had.
“Well, if that isn’t a coincidence. Next thing you tell me your focus of study is also – “Jaime started, but she beat him to the punch.
“Weaponry and battle strategies,” she finished for him, smiling while trying to hide her very crooked teeth.
“Well, count me impressed. At least we won’t have to lie a whole lot about how we met. We can just say I came down here for research, and we met in the library and bonded over our shared topic of research.” He waggled his eyebrows, probably insinuating something dirty, but Brienne suddenly grew all too aware of why they were actually meeting.
“Yeah, that might be a good idea,” she agreed while one of her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.
“Perfect. Well, I’m going to get myself a cup of coffee real quick, and then we can talk a bit more about this whole thing. Do you want anything?”
Brienne wanted to say no, but her cup was empty, and she could really use another one even if it was just to soothe her nerves and hide behind when things got too strange or awkward.
“Uhm…a cup of green tea would be nice.” She tried not to look at him, sure she would be drawn in by his eyes all over again if she did.
“Sure. I’ll be back in a minute.” And then he was out of his chair, and Brienne could finally breathe normally again.
The five minutes it took Jaime to return with his coffee and her tea, she fidgeted some more with her empty cup, bit her bottom lip repeatedly while spying him over her shoulder and wondering why he hadn’t laughed in her face yet.
“So, what’s the plan?” he asked as he sat down a new, steaming cup of green tea in front of her, before rounding the table to get back into his own armchair.
“To be honest, I don’t really have one. My dad was just nagging me again about bringing someone home over the holidays, and I just snapped and told him I would bring someone just so he would stop and not invite some son of a friend over.” She sighed, knowing that she would have to come clean about what this whole Sevenmas charade would entail. “And just so you know, Sevenmas dinner is going to be on Tarth. I’ll pay your flight, so don’t worry about that, and I know it said only Sevenmas dinner, but I think we’ll have to play at this for at least two days before I can believably tell my dad that you are heading home to spend the rest of the holidays with your family or something.”
Jaime just shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “Okay.”
“Okay? I just told you we would have to fly to Tarth and that this whole pretence would be going on for at least two days,” she repeated a bit flabbergast by his nonchalant agreement to the whole thing.
“Yes and …? Oh, and don’t worry about paying my flight,” he added, still calm and collected and not shaken in the least.
“What?”
“I said, don’t worry about paying my flight, I’ll handle it when you tell me which flight we’ll take.”
“I don’t get it.” She really didn’t. Why was he so okay with all of this? Why?
“What?”
“Why you are doing this? I don’t understand it.”
“Well, I’m not really on good terms with my family, and I would be either spending Sevenmas alone in my apartment or spending it with you. And from what I’ve seen so far, we get on pretty well, so I’d much rather not be alone.” He shrugged again as if the whole thing was no big deal. As if helping a complete stranger to fool their father into believing they were in a loving relationship was no big deal.
And just like Brienne had given in when he had repeatedly told her he wanted to help, she accepted his reasons because she really didn’t have a choice and he was right, they did get along surprisingly well, and so far he hadn’t been a complete arse, which was of real step up from some of the guys she had met. He hadn’t laughed at her, and for whatever reason, he actually seemed genuine.
Brienne tapped her short nails against her cup again, looking up at him through her lashes. He was still smiling, his green eyes trained on her, and she felt the sudden urge to hide from that gaze because he saw too much.
As she averted her eyes, she tapped the black screen of her phone lying on the table between them. The screen flared to life, announcing that it’s well past eight by now. She should be heading home.
“Well, alright. I think that’s enough for today. I might even be convinced that you are not a serial killer, but I really have to head home now.” Brienne did look at him then, braving his green eyes and that twinkle of mischief that lived in them.
“Okay, sure. It was nice meeting you, Brienne,” he said, grinning at her.
“You, too, Jaime,” she replied before getting up and moving around her chair to get into her coat when he halted her, his hand on her arm. And suddenly he was much closer than he had before.
“Uhm…maybe we should exchange phone numbers. Just so we can talk about this whole thing, get an actual plan and maybe get to know each other a bit more. I hate that Tinder chat.” His eyes were ever so green as they looked at her, gauging her reaction.
The scent of him wafted over her, masculine and spicy, clean and crisp even though it was the end of the day and she could feel that tell-tale heat returning to her cheeks. Why did he have to be like this? Taking her unaware at every turn?
“Yes – Of course. That sounds like a good idea.” And as if he had only waited for her to agree, he pressed his phone into her hand, already on the “Add new contact” page. With shaking fingers, she typed in her number, glad that she had learned it recently for a conference she had attended, before handing the phone back to Jaime. But as his finger slid over the back of her hand, taking the phone back from her, his touch seemed to linger a second. And when she looked up to meet his gaze that smile of his looked different, softer and the glint in his eyes held had changed as well.
“I’ll text you when I get home, so you have my number as well. See you around,” he said in lieu of goodbye as he got his coat from the back of his own armchair. And then he was gone.
Brienne had just climbed into bed after having come home to an empty, quiet flat, cold and still confused about the whole conversation she had had with Jaime when her phone chimed.
She had deleted the offensive app from her phone right there at the café after Jaime had left, taking the risk of Jaime fooling her and not texting her back over having to suffer Margaery’s insistent moaning and the offensive comments one second longer. But when she had gotten home half an hour after having left campus, with still no message from Jaime she had written it all off as another prank successfully pulled on her. What was worse, though was the heaviness that had settled in her stomach. She had actually liked talking to him. Sure, he was annoying and stubborn, and she was sure that he was going to get on her nerves eventually, but she had never found anyone remotely her age, that was interested in history like she was.
She had hung up her coat and plugged her phone in to charge at her nightstand before heading into the bathroom, trying to push away the weird feeling that was taking hold of her. But now there was a message, and she was almost afraid to look. The likelihood of it being Margaery or Sansa or even her dad way higher in her mind than that of Jaime actually being true to his word. Still, she slid the phone from its resting place, waking up the screen with a hesitant double tap to the screen, casting her bedroom into an eery glow.
Her heart gave a beat and then, for a frightful second or two, stopped.
It was nice talking to you. Good night. J
Brienne blinked twice, her eyes travelling over the string of numbers making up the unknown phone number and the content of the message. And then her mind was suddenly in overdrive as she scrambled to turn on her bedside table lamp. What was she supposed to do? Should she still write back? Well, it wasn’t that late, but still. What impression would answering and not answering him leave? Would it be dismissive of her if she didn’t? Would she look desperate if she did right away?
She groaned. She really had no idea what to do. She wasn’t good with people. It was a miracle that she even had friends. Who had thought that getting a beautiful stranger to play her boyfriend was a good idea? Well, damn if it hadn’t been her own, socially inept as she was, she was now faced with dealing with the mess she had gotten herself into. She could also finally tell Margaery and Sansa about Jaime and ask them for help, but she really didn’t want to. They would make it something it wasn’t, and Brienne really didn’t need her friends needling her about the hot guy she had picked up on Tinder. So, for now, she was on her own.
Biting her lip, she unlocked her phone and added Jaime to her contacts, before opening the conversation he had started. For a second Brienne pondered what to write, tapped out a reply and deleted it again. Twice she had something written, ready to send before she deleted it again. In the end, she went with something simple.
It really was. Good night. B
Brienne closed her eyes and hit the send button, before switching off her phone and burying herself under her duvet, very much planning of not coming back up until the next morning.