Chapter Text
Jamie never expected to like her. Much less like teasing her the way he did. Yet here he was, grinning fiercely at the warrior maiden across from him. Brienne came charging, and he was only just able to meet the swing of her sword. Jamie couldn't help the savage smile he gave her. He wanted to laugh in delight, but every ounce of concentration was needed for today's sparring match. He didn't understand what he did to invoke the righteous fury of Brienne the Berserker on this day, but his Siren's Call was singing loud and clear. He felt strongest when facing against her, truly, for few were his equal bar those who relied on sheer brutality. The onlookers that gathered cheered and cajoled them both, their blood running hot as if they were the ones engaged in combat. If he wasn't careful, there'd be an outright brawl. Mortals, so susceptible to the voice of war. A parry, a thrust, a turn and dodge. Their movements became faster and faster as the spar continued on. Dust clouded the air as their flurry of footwork carried them across the training yard. Her grunts and grimaces couldn't be covered even by the noise of the raucous crowd surrounding them. Again, their blades locked. With their faces close together Jamie could now see her fearsome expression. A snarl twisted her mouth, brows furrowed over a piercing gaze. A shiver wound up his spine. She denied being supernatural, but those eyes tell a different story. No mere mortal has anything like those eyes.
"Stand down, Kingslayer."
Ah, she was truly mad then.
"Wench, surely you know better than to use words against the likes of me."
His smile became cutting. In irritation at being called such, he twisted harshly, shoving her away from him. Brienne stumbled back, her sword arm held out from her body as she hissed in pain. Unrelenting, he closed the gap again and struck the flat of her blade, knocking it to the ground. It happened so fast after that. With a roar she planted both hands on his breastplate and pushed. He went crashing. In an instant, blade in hand again she ran. He was up on his knees when she reached him. Using his own move against him, Jaime found himself weaponless and then she had the audacity to boot him in his chest.
"Yield Kingslayer, if you move again I will ruin that pretty mug of yours."
Sprawled beneath her, he could only take shallow breaths as he gazed upon her. It was almost poetic, the way the sun shined down on her and her wild appearance. In this light, I could lose myself in her completely. Those freckles. The sun even highlights the bow on that plump mouth of hers. Just seeing the sweat of her brow like this- watching it drip down and underneath her armor- No, I can't think of this right now! He shook his head to dispel the train of thought. Jaime smiled up at her, tilting his head.
"Brienne, you think I'm pretty?"
He batted his eyes at her, playing coy. The snarl deepened.
"You wonder why I'm cross? This. You won't stop even when I ask."
His battle high was promptly ruined as annoyance came up at the mention of whatever this was. Again. "I cannot stop if you don't even bother to tell me-"
"You know what you're doing! I have no need to explain-"
"Well clearly there is a need if I can't just STOP-" He paused to contain his frustration and quiet himself, hands clenched into fists, "Stop whatever- Gods, Brienne I don't know what in the seven hells you're talking about! How many times must I tell you?" The crowd had dispersed moments earlier upon seeing Brienne win today's round, but he did not wish them to linger for this part anyhow. All of the Red Keep knew they bickered and fought between themselves as soon as one laid eyes on the other. But this was a particular vein of conversation he didn't want overheard. “And will you let me up? While I certainly don’t mind you on top of me-” The jape was evidently going too far. Brienne grabbed him by his armor and hauled him up with her amazonian like strength and he found himself all too close to her. A slight gasp escaped him. He thought she was going to say something, as much as her teeth worked her lips into a chapped mess, before she finally released him and began to stalk away. So a retreat today, was it?
“What, no more insinuating I’m doing something nefarious, wench?” She didn’t even turn around as she let out an exasperated huff. It almost incensed him.
No, actually, it did. It did very much.
“The nerve of her…” Well, he didn’t have to tolerate her either. A dramatic swish of his white cloak, and he too stalked away from the grounds and into the grand halls.
---
Think of anything but him. Think of Renly if you must. Gods, why must he do this?! What purpose does it serve him?!
Brienne’s thoughts were a muddled mess of anger and… and… The flush on her face was unreal, hells, she could just feel her blood under all her skin. She touched the back of her cold hand to a cheek and could feel the fire for herself. I feel like I’m burning from the inside out. It took everything in her not to break out into a sprint to reach her rooms in this never ending nightmare of a castle. At least her brisk pace was aggressive enough to scare servants and nobility alike away. Ever since her journey came to an end here at the royal palace, things have been so... strange. Months ago, Catelyn had sent her to fend off the Lannister forces on behalf of her son, Robb Stark, the self-proclaimed King in the North. If Robb’s new title wasn’t enough of an explanation, their purpose was to declare independence. A noble cause, she thought, and it was why she agreed to fight for the wolves. It was during one particular battle she captured Jaime Lannister and thus brought him before her Lady, and a bargain was struck. An heir for an heir as it was. Catelyn cared not for conflict and was gathering surrounding houses to help back Robb when the time came for declaring their independence. A crucial step in the plan was retrieving her daughter from the crown. But the King’s council members, including Tywin as Hand, caught wind of their plans and saw it as an act of war and treated it as such. It wasn’t that the wolves lacked the political graces to avoid the scheming and infighting, but rather they were quick to action since the death of Ned Stark.
No one could blame them. After all, Prince Joffrey had also been quick to drop the axe.
The journey itself was an experience, having to escort the oathbreaker. Almost running into the Bloody Mummers was something she would never forget. They only evaded them because Brienne had forcefully kept him quiet. He had warned her of them approaching, what with his ability to sense their violence, and was urging her to give him a sword so they could fight and defend themselves. She saw it for the ruse it was. But did not doubt the danger. After all, she could feel it too. Keeping him caged under her in the foliage of their surroundings, the Bloody Mummers passed through unknowingly. The most distinct memory was his eyes. Like wildfyre they were. He was actively biting the hand that she put on his mouth, drawing blood. She merely frowned and pressed him harder into the dirt with the sheer weight of her body. There would be no escape today. Or thoughtless combat. Berserker that she was, her oaths came before anything. He eventually would learn that. The second odd encounter of their journey they saw a soothsayer who had come as quickly as she had left.
“The Wheel goes on. You will be cursed with the weight of Gold. And Roses will chase you to your end. Look to your Swords, learn of the other before it is too late.”
She disappeared in a swirl of leaves afterwards and Brienne took the words to heart, though the riddle left her stumped. Jamie only sneered. “Liars. The whole lot of them.” She did not dare to ask more. Brienne couldn’t help but glance at where she kept hold of his own weapon. Much more happened afterwards. And in the end she was left confused. She still felt the man dishonorable, for he had stabbed his king in the back and his own family ransacked the people. But after the mummer incident his entire demeanor had changed. She would not call it kind, but his words held no bite most days. She did not trust him, but it was almost as though he trusted her. Brienne also witnessed him performing small acts of kindness for the surrounding people. She herself was the recipient of said kindness when they had come into the keep. When she was given room as demanded by Jaime, she had come to find several gowns and breeches laid on the bed. She thought it a mistake until the maid assured her Jaime had specified them for her and sent a letter simply saying, “Hope I got the measurements right. You’re no bigger than me truly. Only taller. ”
This is all too much to reminisce about right now.
Finally back in her own quarters, she began to strip. The weight of the armor falling off of her was a relief, but the weight of her dilemma still remained. A while after, she called for a bath to be brought up to her. Not even the warm water and oils could relax her. She sighed, head thumping against the lid of the tub. Dragging a cloth over her face, she stared at the stone ceiling, eyes travelling along the fine cracks in the bricks. Yes. This new development was strange. Anytime she was near him, her thoughts strayed into territory that only Renly had occupied before. He was a beautiful man, to be sure, but that was not enough to sway her heart anymore. No matter how much she blushed, her stance was firm. After all, those first few weeks of travel reminded her he was a man with no honor. And a right silver-tongued arse. More like gold, with his family name. She snorted, going back to washing herself more aggressively than necessary. The only conclusion she could come to is that he was worming his way into her thoughts via his powers. The Lannisters of Casterly Rock were an infamous group of sirens. Creatures that could lure one to their death or to do their bidding, they called for what the person wanted most. But few knew that sirens in themselves often had a particular call. Tywin’s was obvious, in his call for power and wealth. Tyrion, of wealth and knowledge. Cersei, of lust and beauty. But she had thought Jaime was of war and blood. He was a force to be reckoned with, his powers making his foes distracted and too wrought with the urge to fight that they left their blind-spots wide open.
But sirens were all rooted in lust, weren’t they? If he was both lust and war, why was he choosing to seduce her? What could he gain from this other than making her leave without Sansa? Anytime she demanded him to stop, he feigned ignorance and would immediately make some sort of... Of... Sexual innuendo! Surely there was no other explanation for her sudden attraction to the man. She gripped the wash cloth tighter.
Surely.
Why else would he haunt her dreams at night?