Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The red brick building loomed up in front of Jaime. A regular set of offices, stuck in a street full of normal buildings, there was nothing to set it apart. The people on the street milling past Jaime didn’t give the smart front black door a wide berth, or fling little glances over their shoulder back at it. Probably none of them knew what it was. There was a small golden plaque set beside the door, but Jaime already knew from his scouting a few weeks ago that all it said was ‘Dr. Catelyn Stark.’ There was no other information given. No leaflet stuck to the door, advertising the services Dr Stark offered, or a discreet sign proclaiming what she was. It was one of the reasons Jaime had chosen to go with Dr Stark in the first place. Even if somebody saw him heading into the building, unless they looked her up online, nobody would know why he was coming here.

That, and she was one of the best in the world at what she did. Jaime had made sure to read all her reviews, and to do his research about Dr Stark before he’d phoned and booked an appointment.

Absent-mindedly, he scratched at the skin beneath the bandage wrapped around his left forearm, feeling the jagged lines and scars that cut through the soulmark there. He’d spent most of his years thinking about the soulmark and what he could do to it, and then ignoring it and pretending it didn’t exist. It would be strange having to concentrate on it now. Stranger, even to see a picture of it, which he knew would happen. Dr. Stark’s website had been very thorough about what her clients could potentially expect, and there had been several links, each talking through every part of the process, and the procedures one could be facing.

Jaime’s watch made a beeping sound, and he sighed, then pulled himself together. His appointment was at half past, but the letter confirming today had advised him to come ten minutes before. Dr Stark’s assistant would need to take some information from Jaime, so Dr Stark could be ready for him. Clients were allowed to opt out of this process if they liked, but Dr Stark stressed that everyone who worked for her could be trusted, and that this would help speed the process along.

There were three grey steps leading up to the front door, and Jaime took them, one of his hands grasping at the thin black railing along the side. This was stupid. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. Dr Stark would do what he was paying her for, and nothing else. She wouldn’t ask questions, other than those she needed answers to for medical purposes. And, anyway, Jaime had already spilled all his secrets to his therapist. The first time was always the hardest, wasn’t that what people said? After that it all became much easier.

Even so, Jaime couldn’t help wondering if anyone was watching him as he pulled on the door, and let himself into the building. He wondered if the people in the buildings opposite stared out their window, trying to distract themselves from a boring afternoon, wondering what his story was, why he required Dr Stark’s services.

He hoped not.

The lobby was empty. A medical office chair, with a padded cushion sat, slightly turned away from the sleek open laptop in front of it, behind an impressive cherry wood desk, to Jaime’s right. There was a door just at the end of the desk, with ‘Private’ stamped across on it a metal plate.

Jaime took a seat on the two-seater couch that faced the desk, and tried to settle his nerves. The floor was a pale golden colour, and he tried very hard to shift his mind away from the person’s whose hair that reminded him of, and the walls were a calming shade of buttercup yellow. The whole place smelt like beeswax and lavender, and there was pan-pipe music being played quietly from hidden speakers above his head.

Jaime wasn’t the only one who felt nervous coming here then. The thought reassured him slightly. He wasn’t the only one. There was a reason doctors like Catelyn Stark existed. He was just one of many. Hundreds of people had been through those doors before him, and a hundred would come after.

The door on the wall at the right from Jaime, which he’d taken to be Dr Stark’s room, opened and a woman emerged, carrying two empty mugs in her big hands. Jaime raised one eyebrow. He’d never seen a woman so big, and so broad before. She wasn’t fat, but she was tall; her shoulders and hips were wide, and she had a figure that was more male-like, than womanly. For a brief second Jaime wondered if he’d been mistaken, and it actually was a man, but no. Her facial features, while not delicate, were that of a woman.

‘Miss Tarth, I presume,’ he said, standing and holding a hand out for her. ‘We spoke on the phone to arrange the appointment. I’m Jaime Lannister.’

‘Of course,’ she said, transferring both cups to one hand, so she could shake his. Her grip was firm, and her fingers were calloused. Jaime wondered what she did in her spare time to make her fingers feel like that, but then she pulled her hand away, and walked behind the desk. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you Mr. Lannister. Dr Stark required some assistance.’ She placed the cups behind the desk, and took a seat in her chair. Even with her sitting, and Jaime standing, she was taller than him. Jaime himself was 6ft 2, and Miss Tarth had had a couple inches on him when standing.

‘No problem,’ he said. In all honestly, he wasn’t sure that if he’d spied her through the door, he would have been able to take the first step inside, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.

‘It is a problem,’ she said. ‘I should have been here to greet you. That’s my job.’

‘Well, it’s too late to change things now, so why don’t we just pretend like you were here, and carry on with the rest?’ he suggested. He smiled at her, but she only frowned back at him, before she leaned down to grab some papers from a drawer.

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Dr Stark requires you to answer a few questions before your first meeting. Just a few general things, nothing too personal. If you would like to wait and speak to the doctor first, that is completely understandable. However, I must inform you, that I will not speak a word of what you say in this room to anybody. If you wish to see the documents I’ve signed, stating how much I’ll be sued for if I talk about any clients, I can fetch those for you.’ She blinked blue eyes at him, and Jaime was struck for a moment by how extraordinarily pretty they were.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ he said. Apart from one conversation on the phone a month ago when he’d rung to book this appointment, he’d never spoken to this Miss Tarth before. But her plain face, with its big lips, and oddly shaped nose said it could be trusted.

Jaime had a feeling this was a person who wouldn’t spill secrets, not even under torture. ‘I trust you.’

‘Excellent,’ she said, and gestured for him to take his seat back on the couch. He did so, and at once felt like a baby. The sofa was low, and Miss Tarth, already a tall woman, was made even taller by the padded cushion on her chair. It was the one thing in the room that made him feel uncomfortable. ‘Just to make sure I have everything correct, I need you to confirm your name, address, date of birth and phone number,’ Miss Tarth said.

‘Jaime Lannister,’ he said, and then reeled off the rest of the information. He could see that she didn’t bother to write it down – instead she gave one short sharp nod to herself. He’d already noticed that his details had been typed at the top of the sheet of paper she’d pulled out, and that a fresh, empty set had been waiting next to her.

Miss Tarth was obviously a woman who had her job under control.

‘And, as I’m sure you’re aware, as with anything of this nature, there are some medical risks. We do everything to protocol here, and everything is clean, safe, and tidy, but we must read you the risks, and ask you to sign this,’ she said, handing some papers to him. Jaime nodded. He’d seen this on the website, and Miss Tarth had told him on their phone conversation as well.

‘I just need you to confirm who your next of kin is,’ she said, once Jaime had – pretended to - read the papers, signed, and handed them back. He’d read the risks himself already, and he knew most of what was to come. He could bleed out. There would be pain. Any number of horrible things could happen to him.

But that was true of what had brought him to this building in the first place. ‘Tyrion Lannister,’ he said. ‘My brother. Here.’ He slipped his brother’s business card onto the desk in front of Miss Tarth, and watched her face closely.

If she registered that the crimson card with the embossed golden lion was identical to the fanciest jewellery shop in all of London, she didn’t show it. She tucked the business card into her papers and copied the information down.

Either Miss Tarth didn’t know, or she’d already done her research when Jaime had first called. He’d put money on it being the second – she seemed like someone who found out as much as she could about the clients before they even entered the building -, but it could also have been the first. She wore no jewellery herself, just a black leather cuff that stretched from the end of her left hand, all the way to her elbow.

Jaime knew what she covered, but he also knew that if he asked about it, he’d get no answers. If someone was deliberately covering a part of their body, there was a reason for it.

‘And finally,’ Miss Tarth asked, ‘and, once again, if you don’t want to share this with me, then you don’t have to, but just to provide Dr Stark with a little more information before she greets you, can you just confirm the basics of what you’d like to achieve in your meetings with the doctor? As you know today is just a consultation, and Dr Stark will decide if she can help you further or not, after she’s got the full picture.’

‘Well,’ Jaime said, after a moment’s hesitation, ‘I need her to help with this.’ He peeled the bandage from his left arm, unwrapping the fraying edges and exposing the skin underneath for the first time in weeks. He’d kept it covered for years now, only changing the dressing when the bandages became too dirty.

His skin was a covered mass of puckered scars. They criss-crossed over each other, one or two running down to the crook in his elbow, the eldest one white against the pink ones, and stretching in a diagonal from his wrist to the very edge of his underarm.

You could barely make out the soulmark underneath it all.

Which, a few years ago, Jaime supposed had been the point.

It repulsed Jaime just to look at it, but to Miss Tarth’s credit, she simply nodded, and went back to writing her notes.

‘Is it the worst one you’ve seen?’ he asked her, screwing the bandage up in his hand. He’d have to leave it out to show Dr Stark anyway, and maybe it was good to get himself used to the mess of his arm again. He hadn’t looked at it like this for over a year. It seemed to him that new scars and cuts and lines had appeared on it, although he knew that wasn’t true. He could probably tell you the exact time and place they’d all been carved into his skin, and who had done it, too.

‘It’s bad, I’ll grant you,’ Miss Tarth said, ever the professional. ‘But you’ve come to the right place. As the world has developed, so has our medical understanding, and here, we use both the old ways and the new to fix client’s soulmarks and get them back to just how they were at the start.’ She gave him a bland smile. ‘I assure you, you are in the right hands.’

Jaime followed her as she stood up, and walked to the door she’d appeared from earlier. He assumed that was Dr Starks’ office.

He looked at the mess of his soulmark again, tracing the longest line, and trying hard to push his thought away from the memory it stirred. All that was in the past; hadn’t coming today proved that? He was finally ready. Ready to bring his soulmark back into the world again, ready to find the person it matched with, ready to open his heart to love again.

Or, at least he was ready to find his soulmark again. He hoped the rest would come after, although his therapist had told him that if it didn’t that would be okay. This was a good first step.

‘The doctor will see you now,’ Miss Tarth said, as she stepped away from the door, she’d slipped into not thirty seconds ago. ‘She’s just through here.’

‘It was nice to meet you, Miss Tarth,’ Jaime said, as he drew nearer to her. ‘I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other, a lot more frequently.’

‘I’m sure we will be,’ she said. Jaime stepped through the door, his feet sliding onto a dark grey carpet, and catching sight of an older red-haired woman, sitting behind a desk. As the door closed, he thought he heard a muttered ‘good luck, Mr Lannister,’ but there was a click, Miss Tarth’s face disappeared, and he couldn’t say for sure.

*

Half an hour after Jaime had entered Dr Stark’s office, the doctor sat back down in her chair, grabbed an anti-bacterial wipe from a packet on her desk and made eye contact with Jaime. Apart from a curt greeting when he’d entered, she’d been completely focused on his arm. Her fingers were deft and cool, as she turned his arm around, peering at it with clear eyes. She’d made several notes on a piece of paper she’d kept next to her, and mumbled into a small device she seemed to wear around her wrist. She’d asked his permission to take photos, and for ten minutes he’d felt more like a model than a patient.

‘What’s your professional opinion?’ he asked. He went to pull his left sleeve down, but stopped at the last moment. No more hiding.

‘Well,’ Dr Stark said, ‘you’ve gone to some trouble to make sure nobody can see your soulmark, haven’t you Mr Lannister?’ She remained grave faced, before a small smile took over. ‘But, with some more trouble and hard work, I’m confident we can fix it, and get back to what once was there.’ She shuffled the papers on her desk, giving Jaime a second to collect his thoughts. He knew recovering his soulmark was the reason he’d come here. That this was what he wanted.

But part of him was still trying to reject the idea. His soulmark had never been whole, not since the first moment it had appeared on his left forearm, when he was nine. He remembered. He’d been sitting at his kitchen table, trying to force himself to read the book his father had insisted he read before dinner, when the sword had bloomed in full on his arm. He’d watched, as blue and red and silver and grey spread across his previously unblemished flesh, as a lion’s head pommel with ruby eyes stared at him where before only tanned skin had been.

And then he’d hurried to his bathroom, and scrubbed and scrubbed, hoping it would come off, even though he knew it wouldn’t. He’d scrubbed with everything he could find, flannels, and a loofah, even a hair brush in his desperation. He’d scratched and washed until the skin around it had turned red and inflamed and blood spots had appeared on his arm.

‘When was the last time you saw it?’ Dr Stark asked. ‘Or did you cover it as soon as? I imagine after some of those cuts it needed bandages.’ She appraised him over the top of her laptop. ‘If you don’t remember anything about it, that’s okay too. We have ways around that.’ Her fingers tapped away at her keyboard, and Jaime knew she was pulling up a soulmark database. It wasn’t required that once a soulmark appeared on you that you registered it – there were too many other factors for a database to be all that useful – but if you did, you needed to provide a clear photo of the mark, so that even the smallest detail could be picked out. ‘Do you remember it?’

‘I do,’ Jaime said. The image had burned itself onto his brain, and it was still there, all these years later. ‘I never registered it, though. You won’t find a photo of it online.’ Dr Stark nodded.

‘Did you ever seek medical treatment after a damage?’ she asked. Jaime winced at the word. He knew that anything that caused harm to a soulmark was known as a damage, but he hated it. Damage was what you did to your car when you accidently clipped a wall – it wasn’t what you did when you tried to sever the link between you and the person meant for you.

‘No,’ Jaime said, shaking his head. ‘Not in a hospital, anyway.’ His method to deal with his damages had been to sneak away into a bathroom in the middle of the night, and try his best to soothe the fresh cuts.

‘Did you ever seek medical treatment for any other injury?’ Dr Stark asked.

‘I went to the emergency room once with a broken wrist,’ Jaime said. ‘When I was five. My soulmark didn’t appear until I was nine.’

‘No matter,’ Dr Stark said. ‘We have many other ways, and we may not even need to use them.’

‘Really, doc and what would those be?’ Jaime asked. He slumped back in the soft chair he was sitting in, letting his head face the ceiling. After the calmness of the outer chamber, this room was devoid of all personality. Everything was grey, white or black. No pictures hung on the walls, and there was no music. A cloth curtain split the room in two, and Jaime knew when he came back for treatment he’d be on the other side of it.

If he came back. He’d had nothing more than people looking at the mess on his arm today, and he was emotionally spent. Seeing the scars brought back old memories, ones he’d much rather forget. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to mix the emotional, and the physical pain together.

‘Well, some people don’t require us to find a photo of their soulmark,’ Dr Stark said, as though Jaime hadn’t just been rude to her. He imagined she got this kind of treatment all the time, and his admiration for her grew a little. ‘Sometimes, once we fix the damages to their mark, nothing else is required. They haven’t gone deep enough, they haven’t changed the shape, they haven’t slashed every line to pieces.’

‘We both know that won’t work for me,’ he said. He’d planned to go back to the office after this, but he wouldn’t be able to now. He’d have to call Tyrion, tell him he was taking a sick day. And use the rest of his holiday for his appointments. It wasn’t like he had anything better to use his days off for.

‘We do,’ Dr Stark said. ‘But you’ve told me that you remember your soulmark. It’s amazing, really. The amount of people who try to cut them off, or hide them, or do terrible things to their body so they don’t have to see them any longer – they all remember what their marks look like, some after only a split second of seeing the things.’

‘And what of those who’ve never seen them?’ Jaime asked. He’d heard the horror stories, growing up. Babies born with marks whose parents were disgusted, and who’d do anything to try and erase the soulmark. ‘I only saw mine because it bloomed right here on my arm,’ he said. ‘There’s no burning to tell someone when theirs has appeared. Some people can go years without noticing.’

‘That’s because soulmarks are magic, not science,’ said a voice from the door. Miss Tarth was standing there, a pad and pen in her hand. ‘There’s no rhyme or reason to them.’ She turned her face to Dr Stark. ‘You rang?’

‘I did,’ said Dr Stark. ‘With Jaime’s permission, I’d like to fix up an appointment with Renly.’ The doctor turned to Jaime. ‘Renly B is one of the artists we use here. He uses the description you give him and draws your soulmark, giving us a reference to work from. With cases like yours, it does help to have a frame of the mark in mind, just so we know what areas to work closely around.’ Her gaze dropped to his arm again. ‘Which areas we need to flatten out, which areas we can burn scar tissue away from without burning away a line of the mark, which parts might need a little retouching later down the line. But we’ll only call on Renly with your permission. I understand that sharing your soulmark is hard for some.’

‘And this Renly,’ Jaime asked, ‘he can be trusted?’ He’d thought only Dr Stark would know the ins and outs of his soulmark. He wasn’t sure how he felt about having to sit down, and talk about it with another person. Of having to describe how the sword had almost seemed to shimmer, how the red and blue had blended together to create a colour Jaime hadn’t seen before, how the lion’s head had stood proudly, even though it was just an image.

‘As much as we can,’ Dr Stark said. ‘I’ve worked with him for years, hiring him to do drawings for me. And Brienne used to work for him. In fact, he’s the reason she’s now here.’

‘You used to work for an artist?’ Jaime asked. The incredulity in his voice was badly hidden, and Miss Tarth flushed a bright red, and sent a glare Jaime’s way for a second, before the smooth mask of professionalism was back.

‘I studied to be an artist for many years,’ Miss Tarth said, stiffly. ‘Renly’s family knew mine, and he was making a name for himself in the soulmark business. When he heard I was looking for a job, he offered me one, and I stayed with him for a while.’

‘What made you come here?’ Jaime asked, curious. Going from drawing soulmarks all day, something Miss Tarth had obviously done because she found passion in it, to being an assistant seemed like a jump.

‘A few reasons,’ Miss Tarth said, but she left it there and offered no more details. Jaime felt his interest growing. ‘When would you like me to book the appointment for?’ she asked, turning back to her boss.

‘If Jaime gives his permission,’ Dr Stark said, and Jaime nodded, slumping forward, his mind going back to his current situation. He was here. He’d made the first step, and there was no point backing out of anything they wanted him to do now. ‘Then set up the appointment for Jaime’s next session.’ Miss Tarth scribbled a note on her pad, and Jamie found himself smiling. It was rare to see someone not typing into their phone, but actually using a pad and pen now days.

Dr Stark drew a slim black notebook from beneath her desk, and flipped through it, as Miss Tarth vanished back to the reception. ‘Now, Mr Lannister, I think the best course of action is a weekly appointment. I estimate this treatment will take around four months, give or take a few weeks for any prolonged healing, or unexpected personal issues cropping up. Are there any particular days or times that would suit you?’

‘Whenever you have time is fine,’ Jaime said. One of the perks of being the heir to a business meant taking time off whenever you needed to.

One of the perks of being not good enough to take over the company meant you didn’t have to work as hard, and that your father would just see you taking a lot of time off as one more mark against you.

‘I’d like to stick with Thursdays if that’s okay? Excellent.’ Dr Stark slipped the diary back under her desk and stood up. ‘My assistant will send you a rough guide of the next four months appointments in the next few days. It should tell you what to expect from each session, although I do have to point out that as we continue along our course, they may change.’

‘Whatever you say, doc,’ Jaime said, standing up and shaking her hand. He carefully wrapped his soulmark in the bandage he’d taken off earlier, and Dr Stark made no comment about it. ‘You’re the expert.’

‘I am,’ she said, walking him over to the door, and showing him out. ‘Until next time, Mr Lannister.’

She closed the door behind him, and Jaime made his way to the desk. Miss Tarth was sat behind it, a neatly bound pile of papers in front of her.

‘Mr Lannister,’ she called out when she spotted him. ‘If you’re okay to hang around for a few moments, while I confirm a few things with you.’

Jaime, who now the session was over, wanted nothing more to be free of this place, nodded. They had to make sure everything was set up so there would be no issues down the line. They were just doing their jobs.

‘As Dr Stark explained, I’ll be sending over a detailed plan of your treatment course in the next few days,’ Miss Tarth said. ‘Although some of the sessions may be subject to change.’

‘Yes,’ Jaime said.

‘The treatment Dr Stark has planned for you should take around four months, with a session each week, not accounting for any prolonged healing time or personal issues?’

‘Yes,’ Jaime said again. These women were polished, and they’d obviously done this dance a hundred times. Jaime hated that he felt a little annoyed by this. He was a Lannister. He prided himself on always being memorable, even if it was sometimes for the wrong reasons. He had grown up being told to leave an impression on whoever he met, on his father’s insistence that being a Lannister meant something and that everyone else in the world needed to know that too.

But here, he wasn’t a Lannister. He was just another patient, and although his soulmark damage was bad, he got the impression it wasn’t the worst Dr Stark had seen.

‘Payment will be made each week, through the account information you gave us when you first contacted us? This is your invoice for today’s session,’ Miss Tarth said, pointing at the top piece of paper on the pile in front of her.

Jaime nodded, wondering what his father would make of this. Tywin Lannister still insisted on being in charge of Jaime’s, Tyrion’s, and Cersei’s funds, even though all three of them were grown. Their money came from his company, and he would be dammed if they threw it away on pointless junk.

Jaime hadn’t told anyone in his family he was doing this. He couldn’t imagine that his father would object, but it would cause a conversation and Jaime wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

‘Excellent,’ Miss Tarth said, making a little note on a pad in front of her. ‘Then this is for you,’ she said, shoving the pile of papers at him. ‘It’s some more detailed readings on the list of treatments you’ll be subjected to over the next few months. There’s websites and helpline numbers you can call if you have any questions, and of course you have our office number. If you need anything, please do just call.’ She gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and turned back to her computer. ‘I’ll send over the schedule in the next few days, and once I’ve spoken to Renly, I’ll confirm your appointment for next week as well. Have a good day Mr Lannister.’

Jaime nodded his goodbye, then left, taking deep breathes as he walked back into the breezy air. His heart was beating faster than usual, and he was clutching the sheet of papers too tightly. He needed to calm down. It was over, he didn’t have to think about this for a week, he could shove it to the back of his mind, why wasn’t he moving, why couldn’t he do anything....

‘Here,’ said a voice, and a paper cup of water was placed into his hand. Jaime drank it, as he followed instructions to close his eyes and focus on his breathing until it was better under control. After a few minutes his heart was a normal pace and he felt a little calmer. At least he could move his legs again.

‘Thank you,’ he said. He was unsurprised when he turned around to find Miss Tarth beside him.

‘No problem,’ she said. ‘You’re not the first to suffer a panic attack once you’ve left. It’s a lot to take in for your first session. It’s a long road to look down, and there’s a lot to overcome.’

‘It is a lot,’ Jaime agreed.

‘The aftermath gets easier,’ she said. She took the cup back from Jaime. ‘I’ve been here a few years now, and nine times out of ten, people fare better after their second session. The pain is their main focus.’

‘Thank you,’ Jaime said, ‘that does make me feel much better.’ For a brief second, he thought he saw a flash of a smile on her face, before she bid him goodbye and went back into the offices behind them.

Chapter Text

The next time Jaime arrived at Dr. Starks office, it was to find a slightly flushed faced Miss Tarth on reception.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Tarth,’ he greeted. He felt a little warm around the cheeks himself, as the memory of their last encounter came back to him. He didn’t allow himself to be seen as anything less than perfect. The only person who didn’t get the perfectly crafted version of Jaime Lannister was his brother, and that was because Tyrion was too smart not to see through an act.

‘Mr Lannister,’ she greeted. ‘I trust you received the detailed schedule I sent you about the further appointments, and what they’d entail?’

‘I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t,’ he said, although he didn’t think that was true. His appointment here had taken up most of his last therapy session. His therapist had made all the right sounds, although they'd still cautioned Jaime that this might not lead to him finding his soulmate and a happy ever after. This wasn’t a magical fix it for all the problems in life, no matter what the films tried to sell you.

‘Seeing as you didn’t respond to any of the texts, calls, or emails I sent you to confirm the appointment, I wasn’t sure if you’d show,’ Miss Tarth said. She kept her eyes glued to the screen in front of her, but Jaime had a feeling if she wasn’t at work, he’d be on the sharp end of another of her glares.

‘I don’t respond to most people,’ Jaime said. Just the sound of his phone going off could cause him to be on his feet and half way out the room before he remembered there wasn’t a reason to hide anymore. And he’d glance at his personal emails once in a while, but he was easily distracted. His assistant kept his work inbox decluttered, and made sure he got to his meetings on time. That was enough.

He hadn’t told Pia about his visits here, just informed her that he needed to keep Thursdays clear from now on, and he’d let her know when that would change. The young girl hadn’t pressed for any more information. She knew if Jaime was going to tell her, he would have done so. Pia had been his assistant for a year now, and although they still had ups and downs, she was learning how to deal with Jaime.

‘I’ll keep that in mind going forward,’ Miss Tarth said. ‘You can go straight into your appointment,’ she said, ‘Dr. Stark and Renly are waiting for you.’ The slight flush on her cheeks deepened as she said the artists name, and Jaime filed the information away. He wasn’t sure for what.

Dr. Stark was sitting in the same place as she was last week, a dark-haired young guy next to her. The guy, Renly, Jaime assumed, had an open, easy face, and was as good looking as Jaime himself was. Renly’s fingers were stained with coloured ink, but the rest of him was immaculate. A sketch pad was open across his knees, and a plastic box full of coloured pens were resting on Dr. Stark’s desk.

‘Good morning,’ Jaime said, as he settled himself into the seat he’d taken last time. His arm was bare today, although he’d worn long sleeves and kept them down all day. It was the first time he hadn’t worn something to cover his soulmark, and his hands kept flying to it, trying to conceal it, even though it was already hidden. ‘You must be Renly B.’ He held out his hand for the other guy to shake.

‘Good to meet you Mr Lannister,’ Renly said. An easy smile graced his face, but his eyes flickered up and down Jaime like he was trying to sum him up. ‘Catelyn’s told me very little about you.’

‘I have a duty to my client’s,’ Dr Stark said, although the words had affection running through them. ‘I never tell you anything about them.’

‘That’s true,’ Renly said, and the easy smile was back. ‘So, let’s get down to business,’ Renly said, rubbing his hands together, and flipping to another page on his sketch book. ‘I’m a busy man. Here.’ He ripped out a piece of paper, and handed it to Jaime. ‘You draw me a rough sketch of what you remember, and then I’ll ask you questions to try and get as much detail as I can.’

‘While Renly works, I’ll start your first treatment. Today we’ll be sloughing off the dead skin on top of the mark. It should also get rid of any scabs.’

Jaime nodded, not bothering to tell her that there were no scabs. Those had all healed over a long time ago.

Instead he picked up a pencil that Renly handed him, and tried to think about his soulmark. It was there, the image of it blooming onto his skin, but it had been so many years since he’d thought about the details. Since he hadn’t thought about the cuts that covered it, or how they’d got there.

While he busied himself, drawing a rough outline, and making little notes about the colours, Dr Stark walked around her office, gathering the things she needed for his treatment. Jaime had read about this online. It was the base treatment for everyone undergoing treatment for their soulmark damages. Dr Stark would coat the area with a rough lotion containing little microbeads and seasalt that would rub off the dead skin and the scabs that had built up, leaving the arm soft and new for the next treatment.

Today would be easy. Jaime could handle it.

‘Here,’ he said, handing his drawing over to Renly. The artist took it, stroking his stubble, as he examined it.

‘Not bad,’ Renly said, studying the drawing. ‘You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who’s spent his days drawing his soulmark.’

‘I’m not,’ Jaime said. Dr Stark sat back in her desk, a bowl of warm water on the table between them. She stretched his arm out, across the desk between them, and Jaime turned his head to focus on Renly. Only two people had touched the place where his soulmark was, and one of them was him. The flicking images passed behind his eyes; Cersei leaning over him in the dead of night, her soft touches turning to sharp pain as she gorged another mark, and another, marking him as hers instead of his mysterious soulmate’s.

‘So, it’s a sword?’ Renly asked. He’d already pulled a pencil from behind his ear and was making rough sketches on the pad in front of him. His gaze was focused on his drawing, although it kept flicking up to Jaime’s arm stretched across the desk. ‘It goes from here.’ Renly asked, tapping the very bottom of the damages on Jaime’s arm, ‘to...here?’ he asked, tapping the very bottom of Jaime's wrist.

‘Yeah,’ Jaime said. He traced a very faint black outline that disappeared under several damages, following the sword from its hilt, to its end. Renly copied his movements, stopping his drawing as soon as Jaime had finished his tracing. ‘The hilt starts about here,’ Jaime said, before tracing the lines he remembered from so long ago.

He thought he knew his soulmark. Could have sworn it was imprinted into his brain, but as the session went on, and Renly asked more and more questions, Jaime found himself stumbling over his answers. Did the sword narrow at the end? He knew most of them did, but when he tried to concentrate the image went blurry, and he was racing to the bathroom, nine years old again, desperate to scrub the thing away.

‘Don’t worry if you don’t remember every single little detail,’ Renly said, with an easy laugh. Jaime clenched his fist. He hated feeling like a fool, and this Renly made him feel like the biggest one. He should be able to remember his soulmark. It was branded onto his skin, it should be branded onto his brain as well.

Dr Starks' gentle rubbing stopped for one second, and Jaime unclenched his fist. He could feel her cool blue eyes on his face, but she remained silent, and continued on with her work once he’d relaxed again.

‘So far, I’ve got this,’ Renly said. He flipped his pad around showing Jaime the drawing. The sword was there, the lion’s head looking as detailed as Jaime remembered it on his arm, his ruby eyes gleaming in wet red ink.

‘It’s good,’ Jaime said. And it was. It looked just like a drawing of his soulmark.

‘We’re not quite there yet,’ Renly said. ‘These things take time.’

‘I’ve had people spend whole days in here with Renly, trying to perfect the image,’ Dr Stark said. Her hands left Jaime’s arm for a moment, as she slathered her hands with a pale purple lotion, filled with crushed sea salt. It reminded Jaime of a spa treatment, although the salt bit into his skin a little too much for it to be relaxing. It was cold as she rubbed it up and down his arm, the air filling with an overpowering lavender smell.

‘Not that I’m complaining, but I do have a lot to do today,’ Renly said. ‘Let’s hope this only takes another hour or two.’ He was relaxed in his chair, but Jaime had noticed him checking his watch when he thought nobody was looking. This Renly guy had places to be.

‘Have you tried the pre-schooler technique?’ Miss Tarth was standing in the doorway, two cups of coffee in her hands. ‘If it works, it yields great results.’

‘If it works,’ Renly said. He took one of the coffees from her, putting his pad down for a second. Dr Stark cleaned her hands on a wet cloth, and took the other cup, smiling at her assistant gratefully.

‘The scrub needs ten minutes before I wash it off,’ Dr Stark said. ‘Would you like a drink while you wait?’

‘A coffee would be great,’ Jaime said. ‘No milk. Three sugars.’ The smell from the cups was driving his caffeine addiction into overdrive. He’d already been so jumpy this morning that he hadn’t had his usual two cups, and it was starting to affect him. He knew for some of the sessions he had to eat and drink before coming, to make sure his strength was up to the pain he’d endure, but today hadn't been one of them. Miss Tarth nodded and left the room.

‘You know, I do miss Brienne’s coffee,’ Renly said, taking a sip, and closing his eyes. ‘She always remembers just how I take it. None of my assistants can make it to quite the same standard.’

‘I’m sure that’s the only thing you miss,’ Dr Stark muttered.

‘Ah, come on Catelyn, don’t be like that,’ Renly said, his easy smile back. ‘Brienne knows I’d love for her to come work for me again. I was devastated when she left. And not just because it hurts my ego whenever a client asks if they can have her instead, and I have to explain she’s given it up.’

‘I assume you don’t tell those clients why she left?’ Dr Stark asked, and Jaime was surprised to hear a sharp note of poison in her tone. ‘I imagine that wouldn’t do your reputation any good.’

‘Brienne’s forgiven me,’ Renly said. Jaime tried to keep as still as possible. He knew Dr Stark would never slip up in front of a client and reveal something personal about her assistant, but Renly didn’t seem that great at keeping his thoughts in. ‘Can’t you?’

‘Brienne is far too forgiving for her own good,’ Dr Stark said. ‘And the only reason I keep you around is because with her retired, you’re the best, and my clients deserve that.’

‘So you’re just using me for my talent?’ Renly asked. ‘I’m hurt.’

‘Your talent is second to none,’ Dr Stark said, ‘your personality and the way you treat people you once claimed to be friends with, however, leave a lot to be desired. And, if you ever try to send me one of your employees instead, I will stop using you.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘I hear that new Tarly boy is quite good. Maybe I should try him out next time.’

The door opened again, Brienne entering with a third cup of coffee. Renly swallowed down whatever retort he’d been about to say.

‘So, did you try it?’ Miss Tarth asked, as she placed the cup in front of Jaime. ‘The pre-schooler way?’

‘You know I hate trying that,’ Renly said. ‘It rarely works, and I don’t think it’s needed in this case. Mr Lannister has remembered enough about his soulmark for me to render a useful picture.’

‘You don’t get hired for useful,’ Miss Tarth said.

‘What is the pre-schooler technique?’ Jaime asked. He felt as the person this was supposed to help, he should be the one to decide.

It was Miss Tarth who explained to him. ‘It’s called that because an American Pellisanima came up with the idea. He discovered that with some children, when they were in a deep relaxation mode, they were able to recall their soulmarks with perfect clarity. You know, how sometimes you can recall an image after just a split second? This is a little like that. Some people believe that because your soulmark is linked to your soul, you can connect to it on a subconscious level.’

‘And this will help me how?’ Jaime asked. He’d been a little thrown by the Pellisanima remark, before he’d remembered that was the name for doctors who specialized in soulmark healing. It was rare that anybody called them that nowdays – most of them were just known as healers.

Miss Tarth’s face was turned away from the desk, her gaze on the back wall, even though Jaime could see that Renly had flipped the pad with his drawings on them over, so only a blank page was displayed. Miss Tarth was nothing if not professional.

‘It’s all to do with relaxing, and overcoming your nervous state,’ Renly said. Jaime could practically hear the eye roll.

‘It’s a tried and tested method,’ Miss Tarth said. ‘They practice it all the time on adults, and teens, and children. People who have just received their soulmarks have it tested on them by their parents and report varying results. It’s worth a try.’

‘I guess it’s up to Jaime,’ Renly said.

‘I know nothing about this,’ Jaime said. ‘Do you think it will work?’

‘It has varying results. We have a drawing...but Brienne’s right. I don’t get paid for drawings. I get paid to bring soulmarks to life. Helping people like Dr Stark out is only a sideline. My main work is being commissioned to draw soulmarks for people to hang in their houses.’

Jaime had heard about people who did that. Once they’d met their soulmates, they were so delighted by the image that had brought them together, that they paid to have a giant picture of their soulmark painted. ‘There’s no harm in trying, I suppose,’ Renly said.

Miss Tarth made her excuses and left the room quietly. Dr Stark started tearing pieces off a white cloth, getting ready to wipe the lotion off of Jaime’s arm. The microbeads had started to tickle his skin and he was looking forward to all the lotion being wiped away. He knew in the coming weeks he had more unpleasant experiences to deal with, so he chose not to focus on how irritating this simple session was.

‘Close your eyes,’ Renly said. The artist sat himself straighter in his chair, bringing his drawing of Jaime’s soulmark to his knees again, pen already in his hand.

Jaime obeyed. Even this simple action had his body relaxing as he blocked out the two people staring at him. ‘Now I need you to concentrate,’ Renly said. His voice was soothing. ‘Think about your soulmark. Try to connect with it. Just concentrate on that part of your arm and see if there’s a pull to it.’

For a few seconds there was silence in the room. Even Dr Stark seemed to have paused what she was doing for the time being.

Jaime tried. He tried to focus on his arm. To picture the soulmark as it should have been, clear and undamaged, the picture swimming to the forefront of his mind, as though he was sweeping all the dirt and clutter from it.

‘The point is narrower,’ he said. ‘And the handles are more curled. They’re a burnished golden colour, and decorated with carvings. The lion has a calm expression on his face. The colour seems like it’s been folded back on itself. It shimmers with an almost blood like red, almost black. And at the top...’ Jaime’s eyes flew open, the moment shattering, his soulmark dissolving once more into the mess of cuts and scars in front of him.

‘At the top?’ Renly asked. His pens were flying across the page, and there was a fever in his eyes now. Pens lay scattered across the desk, tops still off, and he seemed to be able to select the one he needed without even looking.

‘At the top, there are three curls for the lion’s mane,’ Jaime said. He averted his eyes.

The image had come back to him in a way it never had before. There was more, another image, at the top right of the sword, not connected. A flowering yellow sun, and a tiny white crescent moon. He hadn’t thought about those in years, but this ‘pre-schooler’ method had brought them back to him.

Maybe there was more magic in this whole soulmark thing than he’d thought.

But for some reason he didn’t want to share them with Renly. Maybe he would tell Dr Stark about them, further down the process. He’d have to, if he wanted the mark to be truly back to what it should be. There were a lot of soulmarks in the world; there was bound to be someone out there with a sword that looked a little like his. If his wanted to find his soulmate, and that was still a big if at the moment, he wanted to keep this little bit of information just between himself and his doctor.

His eyes flickered to the small cigarette burn scar on his arm, covering the sun and moon. It was one of the first damages that had ever been caused to his arm. No wonder he hadn’t remembered them; they’d been covered for almost twenty-two years.

‘That’s it?’ he asked. ‘The pre-schooler method?’ It seemed way too easy for Renly to have been annoyed about Miss Tarth suggesting it.

‘Mmhhmm,’ said Renly. ‘I’ll admit it usually takes people a little longer than that. I’ve had people sitting in silence for twenty minutes before they feel anything. I guess you must be more connected to your soulmark than you think. Plus,’ he said, capping his final pen, and grinning down at his picture. ‘Plus, I’m a naturalist. I don’t believe in all these methods, trying to extract the image from a person’s brain. Soulmarks are what they are. There’s nothing magic about them, no matter what certain other people believe.’

Jaime answered Renly’s grin with a shaky one of his own...but he wondered. The method had brought something back to him.

Miss Tarth might be right after all.

‘I hope you’re as pleased with this as I am,’ Renly said, and he turned the pad around with a flourish.

Jaime’s soulmark was presented to him, in all its glory. The sword seemed to shine from the page, the lion’s head peering out at them all. The ruby at the base of the handle glinted like it was real.

‘That’s it,’ Jaime said, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat. This was a pathetic display. He’d never cared about his soulmark before. And he was only here, because he wanted to erase all of the marks Cersei had left on him. The therapist was for the mental ones she’d left. Dr Stark was for the physical.

‘And just in time too,’ Dr Stark said. She’d cleaned Jaime’s skin, and was now drying it with a small hand towel. When she stood, declaring that Jaime was all done for today, and taking the picture from Renly to place in her files, the skin was still prickling. The cuts were a little inflamed around the edges, but when Jaime traced a finger over the area, it felt the smoothest it had for years. ‘Thank you for your service, Renly. If you’d like to wait outside, I’ll just finish up with Mr Lannister here.’

‘A pleasure, as always,’ Renly said. He bowed to Dr Stark, gave a nod to Jaime and then strode to the doors, leaving them in the office.

The look on Dr Stark’s face let Jaime know that she didn’t agree it had been a pleasure. He wondered once again what the story was between them, and how Miss Tarth had been involved.

‘That’s all for today?’ Jaime asked. He knew each session was supposed to take an hour, although a few of them later down the timeline were a little longer.

‘I understand that some other workers in this profession cram as much as they can into each session,’ Dr Stark said, ‘and for this, yes I could probably have doubled up and done next week’s procedure today as well. But I like to give my patients the time and space to fully process. I understand the mental toll this takes on people.’

Jaime nodded, as he stood. He respected that. Even though his soulmark was still a mess of cuts and scars, it already felt like it was new.

‘Miss Tarth will have the invoice for today ready and waiting for you in the office, and a confirmation of your next appointment. Your skin will be sensitive for a while, and probably a little itchy. Just a small side effect from the lotion, but it is to be expected. If it becomes red or inflamed in the next 24 hours or you notice any other unusual symptoms please do not hesitate to contact us.’ She picked up the picture Renly had handed over. ‘I assure you this will be kept in a locked filing cabinet, in my office,’ Dr Stark said. ‘I am the only person who has access to the file. Nobody else will see it.’

Jaime nodded. He felt like Dr Stark took this whole confidentially thing a little too seriously. The whole point was to clear his soulmark, and bear it to the world. What did it matter if a few other people saw it?

‘I’ll see you next week Mr Lannister,’ Dr Stark said, and Jaime left the room, going back into the reception.

He was bemused to see Miss Tarth, with a long plastic ruler, scratching her arm, under the cuff she wore on her left forearm.

‘Miss Tarth,’ he said, and she jumped a little, turning her chair to him. Her face was bright red.

‘Mr Lannister,’ she said, dropping the ruler, and flittering around for the papers on her desk. ‘I have your invoices here. Just to let you know, I will still text you during the week, and I’d like it if you could respond, just so I know you’ll be at the appointment.’

‘You know, if you took that cuff off, you’d be able to itch like a normal person,’ Jaime said. ‘Why do you wear it anyway? Fashion statement?’ He couldn’t say why he was enjoying winding her up, but it was cheering him up in a way very little else could these days.

‘Goodbye Mr Lannister,’ she said, turning back to her computer, after she’d shoved the papers towards him.

Jaime grinned to himself as he let himself outside of the building.

Chapter Text

The next two sessions at Dr Starks’ passed fairly uneventfully. After the sloughing off of the dead skin, had come an hour filled with all the medical red tape; Dr Stark had taken X-rays, and gone through the rest of Jaime's treatment in detail with him, and had performed tiny test areas on his skin of any other lotion and medicine he might come into contact with over the next four months, to see if he’d have an allergic reaction to any of the strong substances. With the skin on his arm being cleaner and fresher than it had for years, it hadn’t taken Dr Stark long to get a more acute read on his soulmark, and confirm that her original plan would work. The third appointment had been the worst so far, as Dr Stark doused his arm in trichloroacetic acid, a substance to remove the top layer of his skin. He’d spent most of the time with his hand balled in a fist on top of Dr Stark’s desk, while she pursed her lips and frowned down at his arm. They’d already known that Jaime’s scars and cuts were deeper than just the dead skin and top layer, and that more treatment would have to follow; but still. Both of them were a little disappointed that the acid seemed to have very little effect. Just a burning, prickling feeling on Jaime’s arm that lasted five days.

Jaime had listened to what Dr Stark had told him; and each week before he set off for his appointment, he made sure to skim the paragraph Miss Tarth had sent to him about the treatment he could expect to receive that day. But all of them came with their own warnings, and Jaime didn’t want to read horror stories just before he entered. He just wanted to know the basics and if it was working.

This morning, Jaime barely even thought about the people who could be watching him as he strolled up the road to Dr Stark’s offices. He was wearing long sleeves again, although he told himself that it was because his soulmark was angry and red, and he didn’t want people asking him questions. His therapist had raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t say anything about Jaime’s choice. Soulmarks were personal, even from those you paid to put your trust in.

It had been a month since Jaime had first walked though these doors, he reflected as he pulled them open. He hadn’t had another panic attack since his first session, and after that first week, he was no longer going to bed with his soulmark on his mind every evening. Slowly, his everyday life was taking back over, and it was only on Wednesday nights and Thursdays, that his arm would come creeping back to the front of his thoughts as he thought about his next session.

He still hadn’t told anyone about what he was doing. His father, because Tywin Lannister had always pretended that Jaime’s love life didn’t exist – not that Jaime could blame his father, who would want to think about two of their kids fucking each other? - and Tyrion because he knew his brother would make a bigger deal out of it than it was. Jaime was healing from the marks – both literal and emotional – that his twin sister (and lover for the past eighteen years) had left on him. It didn’t mean he was going to find his soulmate. He wasn’t sure he was ready to give his heart away to another person, or that he wanted to.

Or, as he often thought to himself, that he’d want to have that conversation with anyone he might want to have a future relationship with. Most people spent their lives looking for their soulmates. Jaime had tried to cut his out of his life. He wasn’t sure he could admit to the person fated to be with him, that he’d chosen his sister over them, that he’d hated his soulmark with a passion.

‘Mr. Lannister!’ Miss Tarth’s voice was sharp today, and Jaime prepared himself for another scolding for not answering her messages. He left every session making a mental note to himself to look out for them, but his phone would stay in his bedside drawer, and he’d only remember on a Wednesday that he was supposed to reply. At which point he decided there was no point, since it was less than 24 hours away, and Miss Tarth should know him well enough by now. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I have a standing appointment,’ he said, inclining his head to Dr Stark’s office. ‘Today I get to my scars split open, and my skin stuck back together.’ He wasn’t really looking forward to this session. It was a procedure that had to be done, to make the rest of the work easier, he knew that. And they’d numb his arm before they took the scalpel to it, and the whole thing would only last about five minutes (it was the closing of the cuts that took the time, Dr Stark had assured him last time, because they had to make sure the surgical tape they used to put the skin back together was straight and flat, otherwise the whole process was for nothing), but still. It was the first time a sharp knife would be razed down his arm. He was allowed to be a little apprehensive.

Miss Tarth’s head was swiveling between him and the door, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

‘Didn’t you get my messages?’ Miss Tarth asked. She stood, and Jaime took a step back, away from the desk, automatically, so he could look up into her face.

‘I’m here,’ he said, ‘do I really need to confirm that I’m coming every week?’ he asked.

‘Part of our process is to give you email and text confirmation that your appointment still stands,’ Miss Tarth said, ‘and to tell you of any circumstances which may affect your usual schedule.’ As she said that, a loud piercing laugh rang from behind Dr Stark’s door. There was no way Dr Stark had made that noise. Jaime wasn’t even entirely convinced the doctor could laugh. ‘I left two messages with your assistant, Pia, telling her that we needed to move your appointment by an hour.’

‘You called my assistant?’ Jaime asked. That was all he needed. Pia was a sweet girl, but she had a nose for gossip and couldn’t keep her mouth shut. The entire office would know by 5pm what Jaime was having done. He could already feel the stares he’d get tomorrow as he made his way to his office, past the PR and HR teams.

‘I told her it was for a massage appointment,’ Miss Tarth explained. ‘We take our clients privacy seriously, Mr Lannister.’ He knew that wasn’t the end of the sentence, that she wanted to say more, but she bit her tongue and left it there. He supposed the office thinking he was so stressed he paid to have people massage him was better than them knowing he was getting his soulmark reset.

His soulmark, he knew, was already a gossip topic around the office. Most people didn’t have an issue with theirs, wearing theirs with pride, hoping that one day they’d just bump into their soulmate and everything would be smooth sailing from there, just like it was in the movies. Those who didn’t have soulmarks, or who very obviously covered up a part of their bodies that on anybody else would be on show were treated with pitying looks and fake concern. Jaime had worn a bandage over his soulmark for the past ten years. It caused less questions from casual encounters as he lied that he’d burnt himself, but the people he saw everyday quickly became suspicious. He’d heard all the rumours about his mark, usually from Tyrion who liked to greet him each day by telling him of the latest story that was circulating.

‘Pia’s a sweet girl,’ Jaime said now, ‘but she’s very young.’ He sighed. ‘And between you and me, she’s not that great of an assistant. She keeps my appointments well enough, but that’s because they’ve been written down months in advance. Any changes and they tend to slip her mind.’

‘Why do you keep her on?’ Miss Tarth asked. He should have known. To Miss Tarth, an efficient assistant, who seemed to practically read her boss’s mind, appearing at the right time whenever Dr Stark needed her, someone who couldn’t do the basic needs they’d been hired for would be an insult to the profession.

Jaime shrugged. ‘She used to be an assistant in our London shop. On a visit, I found...I caught wind of her boss using her in a way no woman should be used. I made sure he was fired and arrested, but I wasn’t about to let her go from her job. I didn’t think it was a good idea for her to be in the shop where so many bad things had happened, however, so I found her a new position in the company.’ He shrugged again like it was no big deal, but the whole thing still made him uncomfortable. That something like that had been happening in his shop brought him out in shivers. If he hadn’t walked in when he had...

But the guy had got what was coming to him, as had the person who had hired him, and all the other assistants in the shop who’d let the torture go on, hoping that by ignoring the situation it would go away, and they wouldn’t lose their jobs either. Heads had rolled, and Jaime didn’t care about the fuss it had caused, or that his father had raged for days about what had happened. The whole thing had been hushed up by the PR team, anyway. And it wasn’t like Tywin Lannister would have let it continue if he’d been the one to find out about it. The guy was lucky he only ended up arrested. Tywin knew some shady people who did anything for the right amount of money.

‘That...was sweet of you,’ Miss Tarth said, and Jaime tried to ignore the surprise in her voice.

‘What’s the problem today then?’ he asked, clearing his throat and trying to get back on track. He didn’t like talking about what had happened. ‘Why am I being pushed aside?’

There it was; Miss Tarth was back to scowling, a look that suited her no more than Jaime thought a smile would.

‘You’re not being pushed aside; Dr Stark had a client whose appointment needed to be extended by half an hour today. We leave half an hour between every appointment to ensure our client’s privacy. I told you that appointments were subject to change.’

Indeed, she and Dr Stark had both mentioned that, but Jaime wasn’t about to admit she was right.

‘What do I need to do?’ he asked. He looked at his watch. He’d arrived ten minutes early, as usual. He still had an hour to fill before his new appointment time. ‘I don’t know this area.’ He didn’t have his phone on him to google local places to sit and get a drink either. And he wasn’t sure he’d like whatever he did find. This wasn’t the posh part of London like where his shop was situated, or even an artsy crafty part of London that was somehow even posher, like where his flat was. This part was all offices, and business suits. He doubted there were any hipster coffee bars around, or chain restaurants.

Miss Tarth looked desperately around the office, as though hoping someone was going to spring up from behind the sofa and save her. When nobody did, she gave the longest long-suffering sigh Jaime had heard, even though he hadn’t actually asked anything of her, and she grabbed a blue leather jacket that was hanging over the back of her chair.

‘Come on then,’ she said. She tore a cap off a pen with her teeth, then dashed a quick note, presumably telling Dr Stark what had happened. ‘I haven’t had lunch yet, and I know a place just a short walk from here.’

Jaime waited for her to leave first, before he followed her out, a very very small grin on his face. He couldn’t wait to see what Miss Tarth was like away from the office.

*

Tarth’s was a six minute walk from Dr Starks offices, and just two streets away. Jaime had slowed down as they’d approached, letting Miss Tarth take the lead. He needed it, really. To take in the full extent of colour and noise that assaulted you on this otherwise dreary street. The rest of the buildings were brown and grey, but Tarth’s was a blue and white double fronted café, that stuck out almost as much as its namesake.

‘What is this place?’ Jaime asked, as he hurried to Miss Tarth’s side.

‘A café,’ she replied shortly, holding the glass door open for him. Small tables dotted the outside pavement, under a blue and white awning, kept in by a low tarp fence, stripy umbrellas open above each one to keep the customers in the shade. Jaime was glad Miss Tarth hadn’t made a move to sit at one of these; he was suddenly desperate to go inside, to see more.

‘I gathered,’ he said, stepping into the place. ‘You’re named after a nautical themed café?’ He could see a muscle twitching in her jaw, but he couldn’t help himself. He never would have guessed. Miss Tarth was so buttoned up, and closed off, the complete opposite of this place. ‘That isn’t a coincidence, right?’ he asked. ‘You own the place.’

‘My father owns the place,’ she said, making a beeline straight for the back of the room, Jaime following her, wide eyed. Fishing nets hung from sapphire blue painted walls, each of them adored with a variety of plastic sea creatures, trying to escape. The floor was white, and painted with brightly coloured fish, while a real fish tank took up the space behind the counter. Wooden tables were scattered throughout the large room, each of them surrounded by what looked like too many squashy seated chairs to adhere to the UK fire regulations for number of people in one building. There were no hard seats, Jaime noticed; customers didn’t come here and feel cheated that they wouldn’t be able to sit in the good chairs. Only a few of the tables were occupied at this time of day, but Jaime gathered from the rubbish still littered across a few of them that they’d just missed the lunch time rush.

There was an older man, with a tanned, weather-beaten face behind the counter, who waved at Miss Tarth when she entered, then grinned at the tense nod he received in reply. Jaime made his way toward where she’d disappeared to, trying to take in as much as he could on his slow walk past. The walls were covered in framed pictures of boats, some of them with figures standing on the side, grinning into the camera. Life belts hung on the walls too, along with anchors and 3D models of sailboats. There didn’t seem to be a bit of wall that wasn’t crammed with something, and Jaime found the whole effect rather charming. He’d never been somewhere quite so pushed together. The places he frequented were either the old man private clubs his father took him too, or the dark seedy bars his brother favoured. This cheerful, bright, café was a novelty.

‘You have to tell me the story behind this place,’ Jaime said, as he finally reached Miss Tarth. She was sitting at the table, right at the back of the room, around the corner from the main doors.

‘There isn’t a story,’ she said, handing him over menu, which to Jaime’s delight was actually boat shaped. She sighed as he waited for her to continue. ‘According to old family stories, we used to own an island, called Tarth, and that’s where we hail from. It must have been sold years ago, or added to a larger collection, because no one has any idea where it was, but my father was obsessed. When he inherited this place from his father, he gave it a make-over. My father has never been understated.’ She looked at the walls surrounding them. ‘Or subtle.’

Jaime was too over come to think much about eating, although when he glanced at the menu an excited grin lit his face as he scanned down the fish pun dishes he could be sampling. (Shrimp-le salad. Sea-ded rolls? Krill-ly fries?’) He looked around again, once Brienne had left to buy the drinks, his attention soon taken by a photo just behind him; it wasn’t the boat in the background that had him staring; but rather the white blonde child in the photo, who was grinning up into the camera, and holding out a fish proudly. There was no mistaking those eyes, even all these years later.

‘Here,’ Brienne said, and she thrust a cardboard cup of coffee at him. Jaime took a sip, not unsurprised that she’d remembered his coffee order from his first appointment.

‘I am sorry I had to bring you here, but there really isn’t much option,’ she said, matter-of-factly, although there was a faint pink tinge on her cheeks that gave away how she was really feeling. ‘It’s the best place nearby.’

‘Although, I dare say you’re a little biased,’ Jaime said.

‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘It’s either here, or Maiden’s. And nobody wants to go to Maiden's.’

Silence settled between them, as Miss Tarth slipped her phone from her pocket and lay it on the table, right next to her drink. Jaime knew she was waiting for the second she got the all clear from Dr Stark and they were allowed to return to her place of work. He also knew that Miss Tarth would prefer to sit here in silence until it was time to go.

He, on the other hand...

‘Tell me how you came to be Dr Starks assistant,’ he said, desperate to learn more about the woman sitting opposite him. He still hadn't forgotten all the barbed words the doctor had exchanged with Renly about Miss Tarth, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. ‘From what I heard you were great at what you did beforehand; a passion like that isn’t something you just give up.’

‘I didn’t give it up,’ she said. ‘I still draw soulmarks, it’s just not my daily life anymore.’ She shrugged. ‘Renly sent me on a job at Catelyn’s offices, and we met and got along. When it came time for me to move on from Renly and his company, she had an opening.’

‘Don’t you miss it?’ Jaime asked. ‘Getting to draw people’s soulmarks?’ He hesitated for a second, then decided to just plunge in, because really when was he ever going to get this opportunity again? ‘Do you ever draw your own?’ He nodded at her arm, where she’d worn the black cuff for all the time Jaime had known her. It wasn’t like he’d really thought about it...but the truth was Miss Tarth was covering up the exact same spot Jaime himself covered. And soulmarks were supposed to be in the same place. It wasn’t outside the realms of possibility....

Except it was, because Miss Tarth was frowning at him, and drawing up the sleeve on her shirt, exposing a blank forearm.

‘I’ve never drawn my own soulmark,’ she said, pulling up her other sleeve. ‘I don’t know what you think Mr. Lannister, but I don’t cover anything up. I wear the cuff because of an old sailing injury. It helps to keep the ligaments in place; sometimes they still play up.’

And then, almost casually, although Jaime would bet it was anything but, she scratched at her collarbone, exposing the edge of a faded dark shape that could only be a soulmark. It looked like some kind of figure, the glimpse that Jaime saw of it, although it was hard to make out; lines appeared to be scored though it, like when a TV signal went bad.

‘I suppose some of us have less to hide than others,’ he said. He waited for her to ask about his, but she didn’t. She just kept drinking her coffee, and staring at her phone.

Which was infuriating. He was Jaime Lannister. He should be the most interesting thing in the room, and usually he was. Women couldn’t stop staring at him when he entered. Men would always cast him little looks as well.

He was vain, Jaime would admit to it. He liked the attention, and the whispers about him that followed him around. And he certainly liked to be talked to.

‘So,’ he said, forcing his mind to think of some other topic to jump start the conversation; trying to get Miss Tarth to talk about any part of her life wasn’t going to get him anywhere; ‘tell me more about why you believe soulmarks are magic.’

‘Because,’ she said at once, ‘do you have any other explanation?’

‘Soulmarks are just one of those things,’ he said. ‘Like why the ocean is blue or the grass is green.’

‘Both of those have scientific explanations,’ she said. ‘But soulmarks don’t. Professors have spent years trying to understand soulmarks, but they never get very far, because there’s no common cause between them. One person’s is usually vastly different from the next, and I'm not just talking about the images. Some people don’t even have images; a certain few have been known to have the first words their soulmate will ever say to them on their skin, and vice visa. They thought it was a genetic thing, because it tended to be a lot of people in certain areas, but when they ran tests, there was nothing conclusive. Soulmarks are too detailed to be explained away with a simple explanation.’

‘How so?’ asked Jaime. Soulmarks were a fact of life, like leaves changing in autumn, or how everybody would one day die. They weren’t taught about in school, because children already knew about them. Soulmarks weren’t on everybody, that was true, but it was unlikely that someone could spend their whole life never meeting a person with one. ‘Either you’re born with a soulmark, or one appears on you when your soulmate is born. Simple.’

‘Except that’s not true in every case,’ Miss Tarth said. She was leaning forward, over the table towards him, and there was a fire in her eyes.

It suited her, this passion. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of people meeting and their soulmarks instantly blossoming on their skin? People with more than one soulmark? People who when their soulmate has died, gaining another one?’

‘Well, yes,’ Jaime admitted. ‘I know not all soulmarks appear once both soulmates are in the world.’ He’d heard all the stories.

‘Then you know those stories are much more common than the ‘typical’ soulmark ones.’ She made quotes around the word typical. ‘Think about all the personal stories you know. They’re not all the same, are they?’ Jaime’s was, he was sure of that; that his soulmate had been born into the world when he was nine years old was something he’d thought often about. He’d always wondered what he’d want with a woman nine years younger than him. Or what she’d want with a man nine years older than her.

But his brother Tyrion didn’t have a typical soulmate story, (although Jaime tried not to think about that one). His father had a typical soulmark story (Tywin’s had bloomed the second his cousin had come into the world. Him, his parents, and his auntie had all been in the waiting room, waiting to meet the new addition, only for them all to gasp in amazement as they met the baby for the first time, and noticed the matching soulmarks. Tywin had been three.)

(But Tywin’s was faded, Jaime knew. His father did his best to cover up the small lion on his wrist nowdays, but Jaime glimpsed it from time to time, and it wasn't the deep red he remembered from childhood; more a washed-out pink.)

And Cersei...well, Cersei didn’t have one. Jaime knew that himself. He’d spent a lot of his life worshiping every inch of her, sometimes almost aggressively so. He’d only admitted to himself recently, that sometimes he’d been looking for a soulmark on her. Fearing that one had sprouted on her smooth skin, like it had on his; worrying that someone else had a claim on her, and would come and take her away from him.

‘I suppose not,’ he admitted to Miss Tarth. ‘Although I am starting to feel I’ve led quite a sheltered soulmark story related life.’

‘Most people do,’ she said, no hint of a smile on her face. ‘It’s the one that sells the best in Hollywood. Boy, girl. They meet. Usually there’s some kind of misunderstanding, but then, twist, they’ve matching soulmarks and everything is perfect. Happily ever after.’ She gave a small snort into her drink.

Whatever Miss Tarth’s soulmark story was, there was no happily ever after there it would seem.

‘And you’re an expert on non-typical soulmark stories, are you?’ Jaime asked, intrigued, despite himself. He’d never really thought this deeply about soulmarks. His was a cause of great personal pain; but everyone else he’d met who had one was happy and excited that someone out there was made for them.

‘Not an expert, no,’ she said. ‘I just like reading about them. Did you know unrequited soulmarks look different to normal ones? And that there’s a way to tell if someone has a love they’re ashamed of.’ To Jaime’s eye, it looked like she was giving him a knowing look...but that was impossible. Nobody outside the family knew, except his therapist. Jaime himself had never told anybody else, and it was worth more than Cersei’s life for her to let on what had been between them. And they’d been so careful. So careful. They’d each lived alone and had pretty much only been together behind locked doors and closed curtains. And there was nothing weird about twins visiting each other a lot. Or staying with each other. Or going on holiday together.

‘Really?’ Jaime said, trying not to seem interested. But it had always bugged him. His entire life he’d been told that soulmarks meant there was someone out there for you; the perfect person. Him and Cersei had been convinced their whole lives that they were two souls split into one, and if that was true, then why didn’t they have soulmarks? Jaime had spent countless nights, wishing for soulmarks to bloom on their bodies. Soulmarks were not to be denied. If they had them, they could announce it to the world, and nobody could say anything. Soulmarks trumped everything.

‘And you believe this is all down to magic?’ Jaime asked instead. He wasn’t sure he was ready to learn that there was a way to know if his love for Cersei had been real or not. He was making such good progress.

‘What else could it be?’ Miss Tarth said. ‘Soulmarks are connected to a part of you that nobody can see. Your soul can’t be cut open and inspected at will once you die. Instead it chooses to manifest itself on one part of your body, and display your feelings to the world. Feelings you’re not even aware of.’

‘A way to find your other half,’ Jaime agreed. ‘To live happily ever after.’

‘No,’ she said, taking another sip of her tea, and glancing at her phone. Even Jaime was aware that Dr Stark’s appointment must have overrun; they’d been here for almost twenty minutes now. Jaime couldn't see the counter from their table, as it was blocked by a small dividing wall, but he could hear the chatter of the other customers, the hiss of the machines, and the beeping of the oven as an order was made. A splashing sound echoed throughout the place whenever someone entered or left the building, almost making you feel as though you were actually on a boat, but below deck, just unable to see the sea. ‘People think that soulmarks are here to lead you to the other half of your soul, but I don’t think that’s right.’

‘You don’t,’ Jaime said, unsurprised. Miss Tarth seemed to have an opinion about everything soulmark related; and the natural order, the one told to children, the one most adults believed in, seemed to be wrong.

‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘Who would want to believe that any part of their body was halved? You’ve read Harry Potter. A split soul is a bad thing; it makes you less human. I don’t believe that you need to find the matching soulmark to be complete.’ She paused. ‘And not just because I haven’t found mine.’ Her arm flexed on the table.

‘So what do you think soulmarks are there for? If not to find your other half.’

‘I think it’s more like that Emily Bronte quote; ‘whatever our souls are made from his and mine are the same’. I believe souls are like the soulmarks themselves; identical. Connecting with someone with the exact same soul make-up as yours.’

‘That’s a nice way of looking at it,’ Jaime said. (He wasn’t about to admit to her that he’d never read Harry Potter or Emily Bronte.) He supposed what he said was true; it was a nice viewpoint to have. There were people who looked down on those who didn’t have their soulmarks, who seemed to think it made them less whole somehow.

It was nice to know there were people out there who believed you could be complete without a soulmark. Or even with one, but alone.

Nice to feel like Jaime could be his own person, and that walking away from Cersei, the other half of him, didn’t mean he was broken for eternity.

Miss Tarth opened her mouth to say more, but a sharp trill sounded from her phone, and she snapped it up so quickly, Jaime hadn’t even fully registered the noise before the phone was at her ear, and she was standing, nodding at Jaime to get his things together and come with.

‘The client’s gone,’ Miss Tarth said as they stepped back into the breezy afternoon air. A bright sun was playing hide and seek among the black clouds, warming them one minute, before being covered. ‘Please, I hope you’ll excuse this delay Mr Lannister.’

‘Call me Jaime,’ he said, even though he knew she’d ignore him. ‘And there’s nothing to be excused. This little chat has been more than enlightening.’ Really, she’d made him feel lighter than he had in ages; maybe he should hire her as his therapist.

‘There’s a whole lot more about soulmarks than most people know,’ she said, rifling through her bag. When they reached the front door of the offices, she handed him a crumpled piece of paper. ‘If you really want to know more, these movies are great at exploring different themes.’

‘Movies?’ Jaime said, running his eye down the list, not recognizing one of the names on there. ‘Not books?’

Miss Tarth shrugged, as she made her way behind the desk, her hands already sorting the pile of papers there that Dr Stark must have left for her.

‘You strike me as more of a movie person.’ There was no insult in her voice, and Jaime found himself grinning as he shoved the piece of paper deep into his jeans pocket, and made his way through to Dr Stark’s room.

Chapter Text

‘It’s rather ordinary isn’t it,’ said Tyrion as he pulled his car up to the curb, and shut the engine off. They’d parked on the opposite side of the road, and Jaime and his brother peered out of the windscreen at the non-descript office building.

‘What were you expecting?’ Jaime asked, as he got out the car, waiting for Tyrion to follow him. ‘A great big sign, announcing to the world what's inside? People lined up along the side, waiting to peer at the freaks who need the services?’

‘You’re not a freak,’ Tyrion said. ‘Take it from someone they’d actually put in a circus.’ Jaime shook his head at his brothers’ remark. He’d learned long ago not to argue with Tyrion and the comments he made about his size, or lack of it. ‘And I wasn’t expecting...I don’t know what I was expecting.’

‘I was a little unsure when I first came too,’ Jaime admitted as they made their way up the stone steps, Jaime opening the door for his brother.

‘Good afternoon Mr Lannister,’ Miss Tarth said as he came into the lobby, ‘and Mr Lannister, too I presume?’ she said as her eyes settled on Tyrion.

There was no flash behind her eyes, as she lowered her gaze to meet Tyrion’s eye. No sudden blushing, or nervous movements because she didn’t know how to act around a dwarf. And she wasn’t staring at him with a frank curiosity either. Jaime let out a small sigh of relief. He hadn’t been worried about how Miss Tarth would react to his brother, not really, but it was always a slightly sticky moment whenever Tyrion met someone new. Jaime had suffered through many awkward encounters, even as Tyrion tried to put the other person at ease.

‘You would be correct,’ Tyrion said, ‘and you must be Miss Tarth.’

‘I am,’ she said. ‘I must say, we’re very pleased to see Mr Lannister bring a member of his family with him to his appointment. We were quite concerned last week when he had nobody here to greet him after his session.’

Last week Jaime had had an Uber driver come to collect him from his appointment, since he wouldn’t be able to drive a car home himself, since his arm would still be numb. He knew he should have had someone with him, somebody who was supposed to care for him for at least 12 hours afterwards, just in case something went wrong, but since the treatment had only been minor, Dr Stark had let him fend for himself, although she had made her feelings on the matter very clear.

‘While I’m rather flattered that my brother finally chose to confide in me, I do have to admit that the only reason he did so was because I walked in on him while he was watching A Thousand Suns. When I made a comment about how that wasn’t his usual viewing pleasure, he told me all about his appointments here, and his last chat with you,’ Tyrion said, as he settled into the sofa.

In truth, Jaime hadn’t been planning on telling his brother about his attempt to get his soulmark back to normal. He’d known how Tyrion would react to the news – with joy, and delight that finally Jaime was taking action and getting rid of all the scars Cersei had left him with – and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle such pleasure.

But Tyrion had surprised him. He’d been more interested in why Jaime was watching A Thousand Suns than anything else, and they’d spent more time talking about the ‘magic’ behind soulmarks than about Jaime’s own. Tyrion, like everything else he encountered, had a passing interest in soulmarks.

‘You watched A Thousand Suns?’ Miss Tarth asked, and Jaime wondered if he should be offended by the surprise in her voice.

‘It was on the list,’ he said, slightly bitter than he’d only just been included in the conversation. If this was how it was going to be from now on, he’d insist on Tyrion only coming to pick him up from appointments.

‘I assumed you’d start with a few of the more light hearted ones,’ Miss Tarth said. ‘The lesser known Rom-Coms.’ The truth was, Jaime hadn’t known where to start. In the end, he’d checked which ones were available to download on his TV, and just gone from there. He’d only watched two of the films she’d recommended so far.

‘You know I’ve met them once?’ Tyrion piped up, and Miss Tarth’s attention changed again. Jaime tried not to let his temper spike. He’d been looking to coming and talking to Miss Tarth about the small amount he’d already learned about soulmarks. It was fascinating, and he’d only just scratched the surface. ‘Unfortunately, soulmarks didn’t sprout for any of us, although I didn’t take it personally.’ He let out a grin, and Jaime was wounded to hear a small snort of mirth from Miss Tarth.

A Thousand Suns was a documentary about the two people in the world with the most soulmarks. Oberyn Martell had acquired 35 by the time he was 22, and had already been making a name for himself. He fell in love as easily as people breathed it would seem, and all those he fell for seemed to fall for him too. Soulmarks sprouted on him, each of them with a burning orange sun in the midst.

Ellaria Sand was the woman with the most soulmarks in the world. She’d had 24 by her 19th birthday, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Deep set coal black eyes had stared out of the camera at the viewer, inviting them to join her, and a smile was always on her lips.

In previous interviews, Ellaria had admitted that she’d been born with a soulmark, but that she’d never paid it much mind; she said the world was too full of love and attention for her to focus solely on one little image, and she’d just have to hope that her soulmate would understand her way of life; and if he didn’t, well. There were plenty of other people who could make her forget.

Oberyn Martell himself had also admitted that a soulmark had appeared on his stomach when he was two years old, but he kept quiet about what it was. (He’d told the interviewer that if they wanted to know what it was, they were more than welcome to come and join him in a private viewing, but that he didn’t show it publicly.)

They’d met in the 90’s, when they’d been flown in to present an award on live TV. Everyone had waited with bated breath to see soulmarks appear on their skin, because it was practically a done deal, wasn’t it? Only nothing had changed, even as the two flirted wildly with each other all evening.

It had only been later that night, when a loud shout of laughter had shocked the audience, and Oberyn and Ellaria had both spilled out from a cupboard, both naked from the waist up, that everyone noticed the giant matching flaming suns that spread across both of their stomachs.

A Thousand Suns was their story, and Jaime had found himself a little teary eyed as he watched. Neither of them had given up their life of free love, but they had stayed together, inviting as many as they could into their bed, and onto their skin. At the end of the documentary, the interviewer herself was sprouting two new soulmarks; one on each wrist, the left a black snake that matched Ellaria’s, the right a red snake that matched Oberyn, with suns for eyes. (Ellaria had complained bitterly. Her life goal was now to get more soulmarks than her soulmate, but she was trailing seven behind.)

A beeping sound came from the desk, and Miss Tarth transformed into professional mode as she turned to Jaime.

‘Mr Lannister,’ she said. ‘I trust you’ve read about the side effects today’s session could cause and what to be on the look-out for afterwards, as well as what today’s session will contain.’

‘Of course,’ Jaime said. He’d skimmed the article. He’d read about all the treatments during his research; he wasn’t going to read about them again now. ‘And I’ve briefed my brother. He’s going to stay with me until tomorrow, just in case.’

‘Excellent,’ said Miss Tarth, and Jaime was shocked to see a brief smile light up her face for an instant. ‘Then Dr Stark is ready for you now. Would you like me to bring you a coffee once you’ve settled into today’s treatment?’ Jaime nodded, then paused a moment before making his way towards Dr Stark’s office. Miss Tarth and Tyrion had launched into a conversation about A Thousand Suns, and Jaime was...concerned. He’d expected Miss Tarth to be her usual stoic self around Tyrion, not chat to him like they were old friends. He’d only let Tyrion bring him to this session because his brother had insisted on coming and talking though Jaime’s treatment with someone who knew all about it, and Jaime couldn’t think of anyone better than Miss Tarth to fulfill Tyrion’s request.

But the way they were chatting...Jaime’s stomach felt a little funny as he watched them. He might only have done a little research this week about soulmarks, but he knew if the feelings were there, soulmarks would bloom within the first ten minutes of meeting (unless it took a while for the feelings to come to fruition. Then soulmarks could appear after years of knowing a person. Miss Tarth had been right about one thing; there really seemed to be no rhyme or reason to this whole business. Soulmarks popped up when and where they wanted, and everyone else be dammed).

It was fine, Jaime assured himself as he walked to Dr Stark’s office. His brother was never going to fall in love again, not after his first one had ended like it had.

And even if they did, he tried to tell himself as he greeted Dr Stark, what did it matter? He would be happy for his brother. Best man at the wedding, probably. Which was fine.

After all, it wasn’t like Jaime had any interest in the big blonde woman.

None at all.

*

‘So tell me, doctor,’ Jaime asked as he settled himself into the big blue medical chair behind the now drawn curtain. He’d sat here for most of his sessions now – no more office chair for him – but he still found it uncomfortable. There was no good way to sit on the crinkly paper Dr Stark laid out for him each week. ‘Do you believe soulmarks are magic? Or are you a science kind of girl?’

Dr Stark was carrying a big metal case over towards the table in front of him, and Jaime tried hard not to pay attention to the warning labels covering it. Today they’d be freezing his entire forearm, before Dr Stark went to work with a small knife. It was supposed to help get rid of any diseased tissue, and Jaime knew it had been done for years, usually with good results.

Dr Stark would cut away the most diseased parts of his skin tissue, scraping the dead skin into a bucket at her feet. It sounded horrendous, and when Jaime had first read about it, it had almost made him give up on his idea to fix his soulmark, just so he wouldn’t have to go through with this.

But he wasn’t afraid of a little pain. And it would be worth it in the end. And this wasn’t even the worst that would happen to him. That would come in a few weeks' time, when the Shaving happened.

He wasn’t going to think about that.

‘I assume you’ve been talking to Brienne,’ Dr Stark said, settling herself down, and opening the metal case. A cloud of what looked like grey smoke floated out, chilling the air, and Jaime swallowed and looked away. He would have to put his arm in that. ‘She told me about your lunch last week.’

‘It was very illuminating,’ he said. ‘I had no idea there was so much more about soulmarks. I knew some people had a slightly odd tale about theirs, of course, but it seems like those are more common than the ‘typical’ soulmark rules we’re raised to believe.’ He made quotes around the word typical, and noticed the doctor’s mouth lift up at one corner, almost like a smile.

‘I knew soulmarks were more diverse than most people expect them to be,’ she said. ‘But it wasn’t until Brienne started here that I really started to understand that they couldn’t possibly be understood. Not that it matters,’ she said. ‘I don’t need to understand how they come to be. I just need to know how to fix them.’ She guided his arm gently over to the box, lying it over the edges, and resting it just how she wanted.

The cold bit into Jaime’s skin, and he drew his bottom lip between his teeth to stop him from gasping. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before; it seemed to be attaching itself to every nerve ending in his arm, making them freeze, stopping the blood in its tracks. Goosepimples appeared all over his body, and he felt like his hair was standing on end.

‘It’s a lot to take in,’ Dr Stark said gently. ‘We have to wait five minutes before it’ll start to settle, I’m afraid; but in a few moments the first shock of pain should pass and then you shouldn’t be able to feel anything.’

It was hard to smile at someone while your very skin was being attacked by tiny daggers made from ice, but Jaime gave it his best shot.

‘How does one become a Pellisanima?’ Jaime asked, looking up at her. His lips were cold, but the talking was helping. ‘It doesn’t seem like the most obvious choice of career.’

The path to get here was difficult, Jaime knew. Not only did you need to attend medical school, there were another three years of education afterwards to learn the special medical procedures needed for soulmark healing. A regular doctor couldn’t do it.

There was a pause, and Jaime wondered if the doctor would answer him. She seemed like a private person, who was there to do her job, and not make friends with the clients.

But she’d been doing this job for a long time; maybe she also knew that the clients could use a little bit of distraction now and then, and that the best way to distract someone from their current situation was to talk about someone else’s.

‘One goes to Winterfell University to study to become a doctor because they were inspired by the one who saved her sister’s life at sixteen. And they find that the Headmaster’s son is their soulmate.’ A ghost of a smile flit across her face, but it was tinged with a sadness. She took Jaime’s arm in her gloved hands, turning it over, he assumed so the cold could spread to his whole arm. ‘And then two weeks later, their soulmate dies in a freak accident when two groups of drunk teenage boys decide a fight would be the best way to end the night.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jaime said, taken aback. There wasn’t that much written about Catelyn Stark’s personal life online, but he could have sworn she was married. Had been for years, until her husband’s passing three years ago. He knew she had five kids; there was a brief bit about them in an old interview with her in a medical journal that Jaime had stumbled across months ago.

‘It was many years ago,’ Dr Stark said. ‘But thank you.’ She picked up the small knife she’d left at the side, and bent over Jaime’s arm, a few strands of red hair falling down over her face. He took a deep breath as he watched the knife scrape over his skin, but the liquid nitrogen had done its job; Jaime couldn’t feel a thing. ‘I was devastated. I thought that was it; the love of my life had died, and I was destined to be alone forever. I threw myself into my studies, and refused to look at my soulmark; I didn’t want to see the colours fade.’ That was a common fact; if your soulmate died, your soulmark would fade. It didn’t mean the love was no longer there; but the connection had been lost. Most people who lost their soulmate young, some of them before they even met, did manage to move on. Jaime had met people with more than one soulmark, due to tragic circumstances in their past; and they’d all seemed perfectly happy with their new love. ‘But two years afterwards, I realised that my soulmark was the same as it had always been; no fading. It looked as fresh as it had the day I came into the world, albeit a little bigger. I know my love for Brandon hadn’t faded, but I also knew that soulmarks do reflect when someone dies.

And then I met Brandon’s brother. Ned had decided to go to university somewhere else, following his best friend practically to the other side of the world for four years. I hadn’t spoken to him when he flew back for Brandon’s funeral; I was too wrapped up in my own grief. But Ned came back. We met at some party or other...and I was taken with him.’ She brushed the skin she’d scrapped off into the bucket at her feet, but Jaime didn’t take his eyes off her. He never would have guessed that the doctor had such an ‘un-typical’ soulmark story. ‘I wasn’t going to act on my feelings though; that would have been distasteful. And then one day, there was a beach party. Everyone was barefoot, and everyone could see the castles that made up mine and Ned’s soulmarks.’ She rolled her chair to the end of the desk, and slipped out of her shoe. Across the bridge of her foot, stretched a grey castle, complete with turrets, and a moat. It looked like a place fit for a princess, like a drawing from a fairy tale. The whole thing was breathtaking; except, Jaime noticed as he looked closer, the tiny patch in the top corner of the roof. The colour was leeching out of it. He knew it would take about fifteen years before the shimmer that made a soulmark a soulmark would disappear completely; and that at that time, it could easily be mistaken for a tattoo.

Maybe that was the magic that Miss Tarth spoke about; magic that gave soulmarks their shimmer, that seemed embedded in the colours, that glittered on the images.

‘After that, who were we to deny each other?’ Dr Stark asked, starting again with the slow scrape on Jaime’s arm. He stared at his soulmark, which even in such a small space of time looked so different from the one he’d first entered the offices with. You still couldn’t really see what it was supposed to be, that was true, but the angry red mess of old scars and cuts had been cut away to reveal fresh smooth skin. ‘I couldn’t believe that two brothers had been born with the same soulmark; that both of them were meant for me. I started to read up on soulmarks, and became entranced by all the different stories about them. Eventually that interest leeched over into my professional work, and when it came time for me to choose what I wanted to spend my next few years really getting to know, I chose this.’ She swiped more dead skin from his arm into the bucket. ‘Me and Ned built a life filled with joy and love and happiness, and I can’t help but feel like the universe knew what would happen. Both Ned and Brandon had been born with their soulmarks, although they never discussed what it could mean. I often think that’s why Ned moved away for a while; so he wouldn’t have to compete with Brandon if they came across me.’

‘That must be a pretty unique story,’ Jaime said.

Dr Stark shrugged.

‘It’s rare, but there are a few cases of it happening to other people. I like to keep my eyes out for stories like that, and Brienne is always reading up about the latest cases.’ She sat back in her chair, placing the knife back at the side, and lowering Jaime’s arm back to rest on the metal edges. He could see little dots of red on his arm now, blood underneath his skin. He knew this process took a long time because they had to keep resting to make sure they didn’t go too deep, and that the cold kept the pain at bay. ‘I do believe that soulmarks are magic,’ Dr Stark said. ‘The very same fate that gives them to us, also seems to know just how our life will play out. It’s a shame that not everybody’s soulmark is the cheat code to a happy ending.’ She sighed.

‘Are you thinking about your assistant?’ Jaime asked, casually, throwing the question out there like Miss Tarth just so happened to be the first person who came to his mind.

‘Among others,’ Dr Stark answered. ‘She knows more about how soulmarks play out differently than I do.’

Jaime was about to say more, when the door opened, and Miss Tarth herself entered the room, two cups of coffee in her hands, and her jacket pulled tight around herself.

‘Did you need to pop out?’ Dr Stark asked, pulling a small plastic machine on her waistband towards her. Jaime knew the pager was how the doctor and her assistant communicated, using a short code that only they understood.

‘I just got a bit cold,’ Miss Tarth said, placing the coffee down in front of each of them. Once again she made sure to keep her eyes averted from Jamie’s arm, even though it was just lying there in the open to be seen. ‘Let me know if there’s anything else you need.’

Jaime frowned, as Miss Tarth left the room; had he imagined it, or had she been acting a little off with him? That couldn’t be. He’d only left her in his brother’s company for ten minutes at this point; Tyrion couldn’t possibly have told most of the stories that painted Jaime in a bad light.

And he wouldn’t have told Miss Tarth about Cersei. Tyrion had hated their sister as much as Jaime had loved her, and he wasn’t likely to go around talking about the incestuous, toxic relationship between his siblings to practical strangers.

‘Shall we continue?’ Dr Stark asked, and Jaime took a sip of his coffee, as he nodded. Whatever Tyrion had said, there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

He was here for at least another forty minutes.

Chapter Text

Jaime’s shirt was sticking to him as he made his way towards Dr Stark’s offices. It was the hottest day of the year so far, and everywhere Jaime went there were shirtless men, and women in shorts, walking the streets. He’d had to park a few streets away, and even this small walk was exhausting. He’d rolled his shirt sleeves up as he walked, although he still kept his arm turned into his side. He wasn’t quite ready to bear his soulmark to the word.

The relief of stepping into the air conditioned offices was almost too much. Jaime closed his eyes as the cool air swept over his body, cooling the sweat on his forehead. He’d never dealt with heat well, even if he had spent most of his holidays in hot countries, at Cersei’s demand. She’d loved nothing better than lying on a sunbed, posing in what she thought was a casual manner by the pool so all those who passed her by would be treated to her best angles.

A flash of – bitterness? Hurt? Longing? - something went through Jaime, and he took a second to steady himself, trying to focus on what his therapist had taught him.

Now that Cersei was no longer in his life, maybe he could plan a holiday to somewhere he actually wanted to go. He’d always wanted to visit places with historical interest, but Cersei had been disgusted every time he mentioned them; and holidays had been their one chance to get away from all those who knew them. They would book separate hotel rooms, but spend every night together, and sometimes, if Jaime thought he’d be able to get away with it, he’d hold Cersei’s hand as they walked down quiet streets. Once she’d even kissed him, on the lips, in a crowded marketplace, where nobody had even given them a second glance.

‘Mr Lannister?’ Miss Tarth’s voice brought him back, and he blinked, as the low lights of the reception area filtered into his view. Miss Tarth was peering at him, her blue eyes worried, a small crease at the top of her nose. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Of course,’ he said, clearing his throat, and his mind of thoughts best left in the past. ‘Just relishing in the cool air. It’s hot out there today.’

So, this is what he had come to. Talking about the weather.

‘So I’ve heard,’ she said, glancing at what Jaime assumed to be a weather app on her phone. He’d seen a dark blue car parked a few buildings away every time he’d been here, and had assumed it was hers. This morning there had still been a little bit of a breeze, and she’d obviously not left the office all day.

‘It’s alright for some,’ Jaime muttered, and then paused as a flash of a smile passed over her face. It was gone the moment he tried to pay attention to it, and he shook his head, wondering if he’d imagined it, and feeling a small glow about himself anyway. He’d made her smile.

‘Well, this appointment shouldn’t last too long,’ Miss Tarth said, consulting her notes. ‘You can be back home and in the cool for the rest of the day in about half an hour I’d say.’

Today’s appointment was just a check-up, to see how his skin was healing after last weeks’ session. He knew these checks were scattered throughout his treatment, to make sure they weren’t overloading him with pain, and giving him the proper time to heal.

He also knew that he could have had this session over Skype if he wished, but when Dr Stark had asked him last week if he’d like to come in or not, he’d opted to come in. He didn’t like the idea of missing a week, even though he knew he wasn’t doing anything wrong. And anyway, it got him out of the house. He only really left for his therapy, work, or the odd shopping trip.

‘You don’t like the hot weather?’ Jaime asked. She shrugged.

‘It doesn’t really bother me. We used to spend all our summers on an island, and that was always boiling,’ she said. Before he could ask any more questions, her pager buzzed on the desk in front of her. ‘Dr Stark is ready for you now.’

‘I’ll see you in a bit,’ Jaime said, feeling quite disappointed as he made his way towards the office.

The meeting with Dr Stark lasted all of ten minutes. She checked his arm, then said it looked like it was healing nicely and asked if Jaime had brought any of the creams she’d recommended. The list was stuck to Jaime’s fridge with a magnet shaped like the top half of a mermaid that Tyrion had brought him back from one of his holidays.

In all honestly, Jaime was too busy with work to think about his soulmark during the week. Sometimes it would burn, or prickle, and he’d be reminded about it, but he’d spent so long actively not thinking about his soulmark that it was second nature to him now.

The only time it was really getting to him, was in the early hours of the morning, when he’d half-wake from sleep, his mind foggy, his memories blurring with his reality. He’d imagine Cersei was lying next to him, her long blonde hair ticking his bare chest as she lent over, the small silver knife she kept in her bedside drawer for this purpose in her hand.

It had been one of her favourite things to do, to mar Jaime’s soulmark. Cutting a line through the sword, and watching the blood flow over the image gave her a sense of satisfaction Jaime knew very little else did.

He’d learned to keep his mouth shut, and his pain to himself while she went to work on his arm, concentrating on watching her in the moonlight, instead of on the knife scraping at his skin, and she’d always reward him with kisses, or more.

He’d started it. After trying to scrub his soulmark off when it first appeared, Jaime had hidden it for the next few years. He didn’t tell anyone in his family that it had appeared; even back then, he knew that letting anyone in on the secret would be a bad idea. That if no one knew when it had appeared, they couldn’t pinpoint it to a date, and try and track his soulmate down.

Him and Cersei had started at fourteen years old. All these years later, Jaime couldn’t remember how it started; it had been late, and they’d been in her room. They’d always been close, but that night one of them had leaned in, and their lips had met. One thing had led to another, and it had been almost natural what had happened next.

Of course, they’d refused to speak about it the next day. Or for the following months. Neither one of them would say anything, but every few months they’d find themselves back in Cersei’s room, a tangle of arms and legs. Nothing felt as right to Jaime as being with Cersei did, but he couldn’t admit that.

Not until he was nineteen anyway. Every few months had turned into every few days now they were living in their own places, and though Jaime wouldn’t call it ‘the talk,’ they had spoken about their feelings. How they only wanted to be with each other. How they felt like they were the same person, split into two.

The night after she found out about his soulmark, Jaime picked up the nearest thing to him – a knife – and gouged a line from his elbow to his wrist, to show Cersei how little it meant to him. It was a way for him to prove his love for her, to show her that she would always come first. He’d cut to prove his love; and Cersei would cut to mark him as hers since the universe wasn’t going to do it for them.

It had been three years since him and Cersei had been together, and Jaime hated the feeling that he was being pulled back to her. His therapist had told him it was to be expected, that with weekly sessions, she was bound to be on his mind more often now he was talking about her, but Jaime had been doing exceedingly well at keeping her memories at bay; for them to reappear so often, felt like a step back.

‘You really should use something on it,’ Dr Stark said now, standing up from her desk. She was frowning, but she’d also pulled Jaime’s sleeve down, so he knew this session was over.

‘I will,’ he promised, and made a mental note to order one of the creams online. It might stop the prickling, and put an end to his hazy dreams.

He followed Dr Stark from his office, surprised when she turned back to lock the door. She’d never followed him into the reception area before, and she’d never locked her office door; but here she was, standing next to him in front of Miss Tarth’s desk.

‘That’s me all done then,’ Dr Stark said. A smart handbag was waiting on the desk for her, and she slung it over one shoulder.

‘Are you going somewhere?’ Jaime asked. He knew that one of the perks of having your own business was taking time off whenever, but he’d also assumed that Dr Stark was one of those people who worked 9 – 5, Monday to Friday, no exceptions. She didn’t seem like the type of person to shut her offices for an afternoon.

‘It’s Sports Day for my three youngest,’ Dr Stark said. ‘I have to be there, if only to make sure they don’t cause their usual damage and destruction.’

‘How much damage and destruction can teenagers cause at a sports day?’ Jaime asked. His sports days had been laid back affairs, the students in his all boys high school lounging around for most of the day before being called up for the one event they’d signed up for. Jaime had won a few 1st place prizes back in the day, for the sprinting. God, that had been years ago.

‘You’d be surprised,’ Dr Stark muttered, and Jaime just knew there was a whole wealth of stories underneath that tone. ‘Lock up once you’ve finished, Brienne, and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Tell Arya I said good luck,’ Miss Tarth said, before they said their goodbyes and Dr Stark left.

Miss Tarth shuffled around some papers on her desk, before handing Jaime his invoice for the day.

‘There’s not much to check today,’ she said, ‘but if you have any questions, now is a good time to ask them.’

Jaime knew he should ask which the best cream was for his arm. That he should check the payments had been going through okay, because he never bothered to actually check that his bills were paid, just assumed the money was going out when it should be.

Instead, he said, ‘so, if Dr Stark has the afternoon off, where does that leave you?’

Miss Tarth blinked her astonishing blue eyes at him, but to give her credit she displayed no other signs of emotion on her face.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I need to finish up some paperwork here, but that should only take five minutes or so. Dr Stark has kindly given me the afternoon off too.’ She paused. ‘I was planning on going to the café for lunch.’

‘Would you mind awfully if I joined you?’ Jaime asked, feeling his heartbeat increase. He needed to play this calmly. ‘I’ve been dying to try the Krill-ly fries.’ Ever since seeing the menu, Jaime had decided his life’s mission was to try every item on it.

‘They’re nothing special,’ she said. He could see her toying with how to answer; obviously, she didn’t want to blur the lines between professional and personal, but she also struck Jaime as someone who struggled to say ‘no’ outright. He didn’t want to take advantage...but he also very much wanted to have lunch with her.

‘You can tell me more about the magic of soulmarks,’ he said. ‘I really would like to learn more about this world I thought I understood.’

‘Alright,’ Miss Tarth said, although Jaime knew it had been a hard-won victory. ‘But only because I want to talk to you about something.’

‘Really?’ Jaime asked, and then had to calm his racing thoughts. She wasn’t going to ask him out. Of course she wasn’t. She wouldn’t even call him by his first name.

‘I have bits and pieces to sign off here, but I’ll be down in just a few minutes,’ she said. Jaime took the hint, before telling her that he would go ahead to grab a table.

It was fifteen minutes before Miss Tarth arrived at the café, placing her bag on the floor before settling into the chair opposite Jaime. He’d chosen the table in the back of the café again, since it had been Miss Tarth’s chosen seat last time.

Tarth’s was crowded today, several young women with pushchairs next to them all crowded around small tables, or office workers on their lunch break, shoving down a quick meal. He’d had a quick chat with the man who served him at the counter (his name was Davos, and he’d actually been a captain on a cruise ship, driving passengers to France and back every month. The sailor jacket and hat he wore as his uniform, had been the same one he’d worn on the ship and he was delighted to find out that Brienne was bringing a friend to Tarth’s. He’d even given Jaime his Krill-ly fries and coffee on the house.)

‘I got you a tea,’ Jaime said, shoving a blue and white stripy mug towards her, across the table. ‘Davos at the front said it was your favourite.’

‘It is, thank you.’ She cradled the mug in her hands, and took a long sip. Jaime drank from his coffee. The muted conversations of other customers traveled over them, the machines behind the counter occasionally making a hissing sound.

‘So,’ Jaime said, after two minutes. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

‘Your brother,’ Miss Tarth said, and Jaime felt his stomach drop. She wasn’t about to reveal that she’d discovered a new soulmark at some point this week, was she? Soulmarks didn’t tingle when they appeared, or give any other sign of showing up. If it hadn’t shown up in an obvious place, Miss Tarth wouldn’t have noticed it until later.

And Tyrion might not have noticed it at all. Or at least he hadn’t said anything to Jaime.

‘Oh,’ he replied. ‘What about him?’

‘He told me about his soulmark,’ Miss Tarth said, slowly. ‘Or at least a version of the story.’

‘And how do you think I can help?’ Jaime asked. He didn’t like thinking about Tyrion’s soulmark, and liked talking about it even less. Especially to those he was trying to make a good impression on. But she had only come here so that he would answer her questions, and he couldn’t refuse now.

‘There were some...details he shared that seemed strange,’ Miss Tarth said. ‘I’d like to see if you could clear them up for me, Mr Lannister.’

Jaime nodded, and sipped his coffee, a plan forming in his mind. It wasn’t like he was always just out for what he could get...but if an opportunity presented itself, who was he to say no? And, if she was going to force him to re-live this story, she should at least give him something back.

‘Alright,’ he said. ‘I’ll answer any questions you have...if you agree to stop calling me Mr Lannister.’

‘And why would I do that?’ she asked.

‘Well, we’re no longer in a professional setting,’ Jaime said, gesturing around at the brightly painted sea creatures around them. ‘And I’d prefer it if you called me Jaime.’

She pursed her lips, but there was no outright refusal, and Jaime knew she was mulling his offer over. Whatever she wanted to know about Tyrion’s soulmark, she wanted to know it bad. And Jaime was the only one who could give it to her.

‘Alright,’ she said, after a few minutes. ‘If you answer my questions, I’ll call you by your first name.’

‘Then ask away,’ Jaime said. He settled himself back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, and regarding her like he had nothing better to do today. He hoped she couldn’t see how fast his heart was beating.

‘Tyrion told me that when he was 18 he saved a girl from being mugged,’ she started. ‘That Tysha was so grateful she insisted on buying him a drink. That they got to know each other, and one thing led to another, and they ended up...well.’ A blush spread over her cheeks, and Jaime smiled into his coffee. ‘They spent the night together. He explained that your father would never have approved of Tysha and her family, so he kept her a secret, sneaking out to see her most evenings. And that he only discovered his soulmark a few months later, an elaborate capital ‘T’ on his inner thigh, like something you’d find in a storybook.’

‘All correct,’ Jaime said. Maybe this would be okay. Maybe this would be some random question about the design of the soulmark, or she’d ask if Jaime knew that having an inner thigh soulmark meant something special.

‘And then he told me, that a month after that, you came to him and told him that Tysha had tried it on with you. Tyrion, who’d kept his soulmark a secret up until that point, told you about the soulmark, and you then told him that when she’d climbed onto your lap and lifted her skirt, her inner thigh had been unblemished. She didn’t have a soulmark.’

This time Jaime swallowed before answering. ‘Correct again,’ he said, covering his discomfort with a long sip of coffee.

That was the story of Tyrion’s soulmark. And a story it was. Like any good stories, there was embellishment, and made-up parts, and a scene that didn’t make it into the final version.

The truth was that Tywin Lannister knew all about Tysha and Tyrion. Tyrion, at 18, hadn’t been as clever as he was now. He got sloppy, and their father discovered the young lovers. But Tywin decided that instead of confronting his youngest son, he would make sure that Tyrion left Tysha of his own accord.

Which was where Jaime came into it. Tywin had called him to his office, for a ‘chat’ and told him in no uncertain terms that if Jaime didn’t give a helping hand, something of Jaime’s would be taken away.

‘But it doesn’t make sense,’ Miss Tarth said, leaning towards Jaime. She’d taken her thin jumper off on her walk over here, and Jaime dropped his gaze to stare at the soulmark on her chest. He could see it was a knight now, standing proudly, with those lines running through the entire silhouette. The image stirred something in his brain; he’d seen it before. Except maybe it was just hundreds of fairytales and history books clambering in his brain.

‘I know it might be hard to imagine, but I wasn’t that bad of a looker back in the day.’ If he’d been hoping for Miss Tarth to blush and stammer and call him some version of good looking, he was disappointed. She gave him a glare, then went back into her own thoughts. ‘Look, I know telling Tyrion about what happened wasn’t the most noble thing to do. I should have let them be happy. But I didn’t know about the soulmarks.’ That was true. Tyrion had kept it to himself, because he hadn’t believed it could be true. 18 years of waiting for a soulmate. He’d been crushed when he’d explained everything to Jaime.

And Jaime had been crushed too. He’d thought as soon as Tysha entered the room, and showed off the soulmark, she’d announce that Jaime was making up the entire story about her trying it on with him, and Jaime would be banished. Tyrion would never speak to him again; his father would be furious; and that Tywin would make good on his threat to send Cersei away, and set her up on a blind date with several of his friends sons.

But she hadn’t. Instead, Tysha had come slinking in from the kitchen, her hands shaking, her eyes red-rimmed. She’d showed her thighs to them both, and Jaime had never forgotten Tyrion’s stone-faced expression as the scene played out.

Jaime had thought the soulmark would be there. But there had been nothing. Just smooth skin, with a slight pinkish tinge.

‘You telling Tyrion isn’t the issue,’ Miss Tarth said. ‘In my opinion, it’s the only thing you could have done. Tyrion deserved to know what type of person he was with.’ The frown was still on her face. ‘My question is about the soulmarks; or lack thereof.’

‘You’re the expert on that,’ Jaime said. ‘Not me.’

‘Exactly,’ Miss Tarth said. ‘I’ve spent most of my life reading about soulmarks; the non-traditional ones. I thought I’d heard ever story ever told.’

‘So then, what’s the problem?’ Jaime asked, confused. How was he supposed to help her answer a question, when he knew nothing about soulmarks.

‘The problem, is that while it’s true soulmarks are different, and magic, there is one thing that is true for all of them; a soulmark never appears on only one person. Even unrequited love. Even obsessive love. Even shameful, secret love. There are certain signs that show the soulmarks are borne from unrequited or obsessive love, but they still appear on both parties.’

‘So what you’re saying...’ Jaime said, trying to wrap his head around it.

‘Is that either your brother is the first person in the entire universe to have a soulmark appear only on him and not the person he’s in love with...or someone, somewhere is lying about their part in the story.’

There was a prickling silence, and not even the arrival of a pile of steaming hot fries, wrapped in newspaper and placed in front of Jaime could distract them.

‘I’m only interested because of the soulmark,’ Miss Tarth said, after it became apparent that Jaime wasn’t going to speak. ‘If he is the first to have this, he should talk about it. People need to know.’

‘They don’t,’ Jaime said. He tried to send his mind back to that time, to see if there was something he’d missed, and his brain snagged on the small fact that Tywin Lannister had spoken about Tysha as though he’d already met her, not just had his people spy on her. It was possible that his father had had something done...but Jaime hadn’t wanted to find out any more information. He’d shut his mind to it, and played his part and watched his baby brother’s life crumble.

Miss Tarth opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a booming laugh and a gleeful shout of ‘Brienne!’ The next thing Jaime knew, a tall man with a long hair and beard had grabbed Miss Tarth in a hug, a huge black folder under his arm almost bashing Jaime in the face.

Jaime was about to intervene – he could hear Miss Tarth’s muffled protests from here – but before he could stand up and pull the man away, the man stood back, and Jaime got a glimpse of his face.

Well, there was no doubt about it. This was Miss Tarth’s father, the owner of Tarth’s. Miss Tarth’s blue eyes shone out of the man’s face, and the slightly too big for the face features were prominent on him too.

‘Dad, I literally told you I was coming,’ Miss Tarth said, as her father pulled up a chair from a nearby table, placing the folder next to him on the floor.

‘I know, I know,’ Mr Tarth said, ‘but what good is having children if you can’t give them a bear hug in front of their...friends?’ Miss Tarth gave a disgruntled noise, then sighed, and gestured between Jaime and her father. ‘Dad, this is Mr...’ She gave a tiny pause, and Jaime could practically see the cogs turning in her head. As much as she was still against calling him by his name, if she called him Mr Lannister to her father, it would only be a matter of time before he figured out she’d met Jaime at work. And she couldn’t expose him like that. And she had promised that if he spoke with her about Tyrion... ‘Dad, this is Jaime. Jaime, this is my father, and the owner of this place, Selwyn Tarth,’ Jaime shook Selwyn’s hand, gladdened by the man’s strong grip.

‘Glad to meet you,’ Jaime said. ‘May I tell you how much I love this place?’

‘I’m always pleased to hear that, so yes, you may,’ Selwyn said, before throwing his head back and giving another shaking laugh. Miss Tarth – although Jaime supposed he could start calling her Brienne if they were now officially on a first name basis – was shaking her head, but there was a fond look on her face. Her hair was messed up from the hug, and her shirt a little rumpled, but she hadn’t tried to fix herself.

She looked adorable, and Jaime knew the trouble that thought could get him in, so he stashed it away to discuss at his next therapist’s appointment.

‘And how do you two know each other?’ Selwyn asked, sitting back in his chair. Jaime supposed, if he’d thought about it, this was kind of what he’d imagined the owner of Tarth’s to look like. Selwyn was dressed in faded blue jeans, brown shoes with tassels on them and a navy blazer over a white shirt. There was a small red scarf tied around his neck.

‘Oh, just from around,’ Brienne said, and Jaime was surprised that Selwyn gave a short nod of his head, before pulling the black folder onto his lap. Tywin would have demanded a detailed list of all the places Jaime and Brienne had been together and what they’d spoken about.

‘Right, well I won’t keep you long,’ Selwyn said, ‘and thank you for doing this. There’s just too many good ones, and I don’t know who to choose.’

‘No problem,’ Brienne said, leaning forward, while Jaime snuck fries into his mouth. They were fresh and warm and one of the best things Jaime had ever eaten, covered in some kind of seasoning that Jaime knew he’d have random cravings for for the rest of his life.

‘They’re good, right?’ Selwyn asked, nodding to the fries. ‘The black dots you can see on each fry is the seasoning, and each dot is supposed to represent a krill, although you’d probably want to triple it if we were being accurate.’ Jaime, who’d walked past a giant black and gold kraken painted on one of the walls on his way in, wondered just how accurate Selwyn was worried about being. Selwyn handed the folder to Brienne, who laid it across her lap, and turned clear folders over, each one displaying an under the sea themed drawing.

‘We had some issues with the guttering,’ Selwyn said, turning to Jaime when he noticed him looking at the pictures. ‘Last year, during the heavy rainfalls. One bust, and we sprung a leak. Luckily, only over the bathroom,’ he said, gesturing to the doorway opposite Jaime, ‘so we didn’t have to close shop, and luckily it happened at night, so no one was in the building.’

‘I’d call a whole chunk of ceiling collapsing more than a leak,’ Brienne said, still pouring over the pictures.

‘Anyway, it ruined the bathroom. One whole wall was water damaged, the floor was washed out, and we had to rebuild. The builders did a fantastic job, but they left the wall painted a pale blue colour, and that just won’t do,’ Selwyn, shaking his head, and sounding like this was the worst thing that have happened. ‘So, we’re hiring someone to paint the bathroom.’ He nodded to the folder. ‘Those are the top six candidates we interviewed. I asked them to photocopy their idea for the bathroom, and bring it to the interview,’ Selwyn confided. ‘But I wasn’t going to hire anyone without talking to Brienne first. She knows more about this type of thing than I do. I just like a pretty picture.’

Jaime tried to hide his smile by stuffing more fries in his mouth. He didn’t think Brienne would appreciate this easiness with her father, but she was shaking her head again like she was used to it. ‘So, what do you think love?’ Selwlyn asked. ‘Personally, I like the underwater sea battle myself. The chap’s a nice guy, a bit quiet but there’s nothing wrong with that. And he’s cheaper than the rest. The quality isn’t as good as some of the others, I’ll admit...but he is cheaper,’ Selwyn said again.

Brienne flipped back a couple of pages, and Jaime leaned forward to see the drawings she’d landed on. Across the double page were a jumble of mermen, and sea creatures all of them wearing battle armour in front of an underwater background. There were pale women with bright pink hair sitting on saddled up sea horses, and dolphins holding shells as shields.

‘Who drew this?’ Brienne asked, her voice low. She was tracing over a detailed shell shield with an unusual pattern, like she’d seen it before. She didn’t seem as excited as her father did about the drawing.

‘Oh, I don’t know love, some chap with a weird name. Hyde? Hunter? Both names began with a H, I remember that much. He should have left his contact details on the back,’ Selwyn said.

‘Hyle Hunt?’ Brienne asked.

‘That’s him!’ Selwyn agreed, slapping his thigh. ‘Why, do you know him?’

‘He used to work at Renly’s with me. For a time. I didn’t know he’d started branching out on his own,’ Brienne said.

‘Oh, well, Renly always let you guys do your own thing as long as it wasn’t a soulmark commission, didn’t he? Maybe Hyle fancied doing something a little different?’

‘Dad you can’t hire Hyle Hunt to paint the bathroom,’ Brienne said. Jaime sat back. He wasn’t supposed to be here for this conversation, he was sure of that.

‘Brienne?’ her father asked, but Brienne had seemed to say all she would on the matter.

‘If it’s a question of money, I’ve told you I’ll do it for you,’ she said.

‘You know how much your painting means to me love, but you did all of this,’ Selwyn said, gesturing around the interior of the café. Jaime blinked, staring at all the drawings in a new way, trying to drink in all the details he’d missed the first time. Brienne had painted these designs onto the floor and the doors and the walls. ‘And I know how busy you are with your work, and the sailing, and being a young woman in London. And I know that you don’t really paint anymore. I can’t ask you to do this.’

‘Dad, you can’t hire Hyle Hunt to paint the bathroom,’ Brienne said again. Her voice was flat, emotionless, and Jaime’s mind went into overdrive. That there was history between this Hyle guy and Brienne was obvious – but what? His mind went to dark places, but he shut those down – Brienne would have reported anything serious. He felt sure of that.

‘Alright,’ Selwyn Tarth said, and Jaime looked at him so fast he was surprised he didn’t suffer whiplash. That was it? No questions, no ‘list three reasons why you’re right and I’m wrong?’ ‘Then which one do you think I should go for?’

‘I like the garden,’ Brienne said, and Jaime was relieved to hear that her voice was back to normal. The flat expressionless tone had scared him. She flipped a few pages forward in the book, stopping at the first one. An underwater palace garden was spread over her knees, roses and lilies climbing the walls, while frogs napped on lily pads, and jeweled snails slimed their way over multi-coloured orchids. The drawing was better than the underwater army, Jaime could see that. More care seemed to have been taken, all of the details carefully crafted. ‘If it’s more expensive than Hyle, I can put some towards it.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Selwyn, gently sliding the folder from her lap. ‘If I didn’t have the money, I wouldn’t have advertised in the first place. It just means waiting another few months to replace the logo out front, but I’m the only one who cares about that, and I can wait.’

‘Thanks Dad,’ Brienne said.

‘Of course,’ Selwyn said, reaching out a hand to squeeze Brienne’s. ‘I wouldn’t have asked for your opinion if I wasn’t going to take it. And the garden is a fantastic option. The customers are going to love it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to corner Davos about the rotas he’s done for next week. Asha and Theon together on the same shift?’ He shook his head, and stood up. ‘What was he thinking?’ Selwyn bid them goodbye, and Jaime waited a few minutes before speaking up. Brienne still looked a little lost in thought.

‘Who are Asha and Theon?’ he asked, and Brienne blinked, before shifting herself around on the seat and taking a sip of what Jaime was sure was now her cold cup of tea.

‘They’re a brother and sister who work here. Both of them are great; they grew up on an island, and they’ve been on ships since before they could walk too. The customers love talking to them. But when they get on shifts together; well it doesn’t tend to go well.’ She winced. ‘Last time Theon dropped a teapot on the floor, shattering the whole thing and Asha was heard to yell out ‘aye, well done you fucking moron.’ There were kids around.’

Jaime hid his smile for as long as he could, but once he noticed Brienne was hiding hers too, the smile turned into a chuckle, before becoming a full out belly laugh.

‘Siblings, eh?’ Brienne asked. She gathered her bag from the floor, and Jaime understood that it was time to go. She probably had several other errands she needed to run on her afternoon off, and here was Jaime taking up most of her time. ‘Who’d have them?’

Who indeed, Jaime wondered as he stood up, too.

Wasn't that a sobering thought.

Chapter Text

The next Thursday, Jaime parked his car a street away from Dr Stark offices, two hours before his appointment. It was a bright, blustery day, one of the ones where the sun was high in the sky, but you needed a jacket to keep warm.

Jaime locked his car, then made his way, not to Dr Stark’s offices, but in the direction of Tarth’s. He schooled his expression into the bored, bland face he usually wore to business meetings, so that nobody could see the nerves currently jumping around his body. This was good. This was something that needed to be done.

At least according to his therapist. Jaime had spent a lot of his last session talking about his new found feelings for a blonde assistant, and the therapist had nodded and written notes down and said this was a good thing.

But, they’d also told Jaime maybe to start small. To not ask out a woman who he was bound to see every week, if things went wrong. To maybe try talking to another woman first, to flirt a little, to have a little fun. They hadn’t expressly said the word ‘rebound’ but Jaime had felt it floating in the air, and he had to admit, it probably wouldn’t be the worst thing. He knew nothing about asking a woman out, or about being someone’s boyfriend. And while he wasn’t entirely sure that was what he wanted with Brienne – it still struck him cold sometimes, that he was thinking about being with someone other than Cersei -, he couldn’t deny that he’d spent more than one night falling asleep to daydreams about asking Brienne out and her saying yes.

Tarth’s was busier at this time of the morning, with large groups clustered around the tables at the front. Jaime made his way slowly towards the counter, his gaze flickering over each of the women he passed, wondering if they were viable, and then dismissing them. Most of the women sitting around were next to pushchairs, or had a toddler on their lap, or looked so young Jaime balked at the idea of even approaching them. There was a school somewhere around here, Jaime knew from his previous excess researching of the area, and he assumed these women were the mothers and the nannies, having a morning coffee and catch-up. They certainly weren’t looking after the children in their care, who were running around, shouting at the top of their lungs and playing hop scotch on a small ship painted on the floor.

He made his way further into the café, eyes still scanning for a likely woman. He hadn’t wanted to try this at a nightclub, but rather somewhere he felt comfortable, and this was really the only place he could think of. It had to be somewhere far from his work, so he wouldn’t get caught out hitting on a potential customer. Somewhere that even his father’s hired ears couldn’t reach.

This had been the only place to spring to his mind. He could have asked Tyrion for help, he supposed, but he hadn’t wanted his brother to know anything about this. Tyrion had been after Cersei and Jaime’s break up since he’d realised they shared more than a twin bond, and although they hadn’t been together for years now, Jaime knew Tyrion would delight in the evidence that Jaime was actually moving on. Just like with his soulmark repairs, Jaime wanted to keep this quiet. At least for a little while.

‘Welcome to Tarth’s, what can I get you?’ the scruffy young guy behind the counter asked. There was no captain uniform for this one, just a black jumper with holes in the sleeves, and trousers. The only nod to the theme that this ‘Theon’ had made was the badge pinned to his chest with his name on it; a small sailboat with bright red sails.

‘I’ll have a Mer-mazing Mocha, thanks,’ Jaime said, squinting at the chalkboard menu behind the counter. He didn’t really need to. He’d download the food and coffee menu, so that he could be sure over the next few weeks that he sampled one of everything. He knew Tarth’s wouldn’t be going anywhere after his appointments were over, but there was already a nagging feeling inside him telling him that he’d always associate this place with the pain in his arm, and his soulmark and a certain blonde assistant. ‘What makes it Mer-mazing?’ he asked Theon, leaning on the counter. There was a woman behind him in line, but she was still peering at the board, trying to make up her mind, so Jaime didn’t think she’d mind him taking a little bit longer.

‘Nothing much,’ Theon said, as he went to work on the gleaming machines. It was quite a dance to watch, the way the Theon pulled the cups from below, and set the dials to the correct setting, to see the steam rising and Theon burning his knuckles and muttering ‘ow, fuck’ to himself. ‘It’s basically just a mocha, but I can add edible glitter so it shimmers.’

‘Go on then,’ Jaime said. Why not? He was after the full experience after all.

Just as Theon was sliding the coffee over to him, and Jaime was admiring the swirling blue and silver glitter on the top, he saw her. She appeared as if from thin air, walking from the back of the café towards the front, and Jaime knew if he was actually going to go through with this, she had to be the one he tried with.

He slipped his payment card back into his pocket, picked his coffee up, and made his way towards the woman walking towards him. Her long tawny hair was curled softly around her shoulders, held back from her face by a knotted red scarf. She wore a pale blue pair of dungarees with a striped crop top under, and dainty little shoes that looked like slippers. And then she made eye contact with Jaime, blinking long lashes over brown Bambi eyes, a smile licking over her face.

‘Hello,’ she said as Jaime stopped in front of her. ‘I’m Margaery.’ She held a slim hand out for him to shake, and he did, awkwardly, holding the mocha in the other hand and praying it didn’t crash to the floor. That would be all he needed.

‘Jaime,’ he said, smiling back at her. There was an awkward pause, and Jaime wondered why she’d approached him if she wasn’t going to say anything, before realizing that he’d been the one to stop her. He’d walked towards her, right in her eyeline, his gaze glued to hers. She hadn’t really had much of a choice but to stop and speak to him. ‘You must be the artist Selwyn hired,’ he said, dropping the fake bravado act he’d been aiming for. The guess was a good one; there were flecks of paint on her arms, and a big splotch on her ankle. Plus, the paintbrush sticking out of her pocket kind of gave the game away. ‘I saw the drawing you did. Pretty spectacular.’ He tried to cast his mind back to last week, to the underwater garden that Brienne and her father had chosen to go with. But he’d only ever seen it upside down, and he hadn’t been paying that much attention in the first place.

Still. He knew flattery was the best form of defense.

‘You know the Tarth’s?’ she asked, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. There appeared to be no trace of make-up on her face, which Jaime knew, from having watching Cersei perfect the look over the years, meant she’d probably spent at least 45 minutes on it this morning. Jaime nodded. ‘And thank you. I didn’t think they’d chose my idea, to be honest. I know I'm not the cheapest option they had, but Grandmother always says if you want people to think you’re worth it, you get them to pay for it.’

‘Of course,’ Jaime said. ‘And you are more than worth it.’ The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them, and he wanted to snatch them back...but he couldn’t. So he’d have to front it out, and lean into it and hope this woman wouldn’t think too badly of him when the conversation ended.

Margaery laughed, though, tipping her head back, and letting her curls fall across her shoulders, and Jaime tried to ignore the prickling sensation inside him. It was unsettling how easily he’d fallen back into this character he hadn’t had to play for three years now. Jaime Lannister, the clean cut, blandly handsome, rich guy who’d flirt with women at parties without a second thought, but never leave with anyone. It had always been his cover, to make the women think they could be his if they just said the word – but in the face of one such as himself coming on to them, they always backed away, back to their boyfriends or husbands, back to their giggly group of friends, so they could tell them ‘they could have him if they wanted him.’ On the odd occasion one of them did take the plunge, Jaime would always slip away from the party though a back door, leaving them to wonder when he’d show his face again.

‘You sure do know how to compliment a lady,’ Margaery said, her eyes flickering over him, looking for clues as to who he was.

‘Can I buy you a drink?’ Jaime said, gesturing to his coffee. ‘The edible glitter is optional.’

‘Thank you,’ Margaery said, and for a second, Jaime couldn’t believe he’d actually done it, until she continued, ‘but I’m afraid I’m a purist.’

‘A what?’ Jaime asked. A child screaming made him jump, and he slopped a little coffee over his hand, then winced.

‘A purist. I’m only ever going to date my soulmate,’ Margaery said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jaime supposed that it was.

‘Right,’ Jaime said. He’d never heard that term before.

‘It means I’m only interested in dating my soulmate,’ Margaery explained.

‘And how do you know I’m not?’ Jaime asked. Margaery gave him another look, seizing him up, and Jaime returned it. His soulmark had appeared at nine, which, if you went on the typical story, his soulmate should be nine years younger than him. There was no doubt that Margaery was more twenty than twenty-six, but looks could be deceiving. And if the universe was supposed to design it so that you randomly walked into your soulmate, which he knew some people believed, what better story could there be than this?

‘Well,’ Margaery said, and she yanked up the sleeve on her top, before raising her forearm and showing it to him, ‘are we a matching pair?’ For the briefest second, Jaime thought it was actually happening, and he imagined walking into his therapist’s office and telling them this story, before he registered he was staring at a golden rose where the petals shimmered. A thin green vine with tiny thistles wrapped around the middle, and the bottom.

There was no mistaking it for a sword.

‘No match,’ Jaime said, smiling blandly.

‘No harm, no foul,’ Margaery said, but he could see the disappointment in her eyes. He was sure it was nothing to do with him not being her soulmate – they'd barely exchanged 10 sentences after all. But the idea that your soulmate could just walk smack bang into your life and alter it was...well. It was something to think about. ‘Better luck next time.’ She patted him on the shoulder as she made her way towards the counter. Jaime watched her go, then turned back, trying to cheer himself up by thinking it hadn’t gone too badly, when he lifted his head up, and found himself caught in the trap of a blue-eyed stare.

Jaime stared back at Brienne, feeling the warmth creep up his neck. Fight or flight kicked in, and for a second he debated high tailing it out of the door and cancelling all his appointments with Dr Stark...but Jaime had never been one for running. He would choose fight. Every time.

‘Brienne,’ he said, taking a few steps towards her, before sliding into his usual seat at their table. Brienne was sitting in the chair at the side, instead of the one against the wall. Her phone was out on the table in front of her, and there was a cup of tea in her hands. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Jaime,’ she said. ‘Everyone’s entitled to a break.’ It was just before twelve, and Jaime knew she must have been here for some time.

‘At half eleven?’ Jaime asked. ‘A little early for a lunch break, isn’t it?’

‘Maybe,’ Brienne said, then took a sip of her tea. Jaime looked at her, and the slight tinge of pink in her cheeks, and the blank mask of professionalism she wore. Then he looked at her phone on the table, and remembered that the only other time she’d left it out, was when she’d been expecting a call from Dr Stark letting her know when she could come back to the office.

‘Let me guess,’ he said. ‘Dr Stark is dealing with a client who needs the uttermost privacy and refused to let you know even the slightest detail about them?’ That had been one of the options that you could select while making contact on Dr Stark’s website. Jaime had been sorely tempted to select it, but he’d already spoken to Brienne over the phone using a fake name at that point, so it hadn’t seemed worth it.

Brienne gave him a look that told him he was the worst, and Jaime hid his small smile behind his glittery coffee.

‘You and Margaery -,’ Brienne started, but Jaime wasn’t about to let her finish that sentence so instead he let out a groan, cutting her off.

‘How much of that did you hear?’ he asked, sliding down in his seat.

‘How much of what?’ Brienne asked.

‘How much of me asking out that very young woman, and her rejecting me?’ Jaime said. He’d rather just have it all out in the open, and then brushed under the carpet never to be looked at again.

‘I’m sorry, you asked Margaery out?’ Brienne said, suddenly blinking very fast, and trying to stop the corner of her mouth from turning upwards. ‘And she said no?’

‘Don’t pretend you couldn’t hear,’ Jaime said into his coffee, before taking a sip. The glitter had added a sweetness to the chocolate drink, which he wasn’t overly keen on. Still, it wasn’t the worst thing he’d drunk, and he needed the caffeine.

‘Jaime, do you see those people on the table behind us?’ Brienne asked, pointing to a teenage couple. The girl was chattering on about something, using a lot of hand gestures while the boy seemed to get one word in every ten seconds or so. ‘Tell me what they’re saying.’

‘Well,’ he began, and then closed his mouth so he could listen.

But the only thing he could hear was the whirring of the machines, Theon’s gravelly laugh, the screams of a few children from the front, and the blurred chatter of the other customers. The young couple were nearer to their table than him and Margaery had been.

‘You asked Margaery Tyrell out?’ Brienne asked again, and a distant warning bell sounded in Jaime’s head.

Tyrell.

Why was that name so familiar to him?

‘Tyrell,’ he said, swallowing, ‘as in...’

‘As in Olenna Tyrell’s Granddaughter, yes,’ Brienne said.

‘Shit,’ Jaime said, and that seemed to be all he could think of. Olenna Tyrell had been a semi-famous artist in her youth, wowing critics and crowds with her realistic paintings. She’d given it all up when she’d married, deciding to climb the ladder of London high society instead, and succeeding. Jaime knew her early retirement had been a huge blow to the art world, and that she spent most of her time now days hosting charity lunches and arranging dates between the offspring of her well to do friends. (Jaime also had a sneaking suspicion that Olenna was the ‘anonymous’ journalist behind the Queen of Thorns gossip page printed every Saturday in a national newspaper, which gave little hints and clues as to what famous people had been up to. Jaime could almost see the words yet to be printed for this week – which heir to one of the most well-known shops in London was seen making a fool of himself, when he hit on someone way too young for him? – already.) But before she’d left the art world for good, Olenna had agreed to take on one last commission – to paint the golden lion that adorned the front of the Lannister’s shop. It had been the first touch Tywin Lannister had implemented when his father had died, and Tywin had taken over the reins, and it had remained ever since, staring down at the tourists and shoppers that stood, pressing their face against the glass and staring in at the sparkling jewels every day. Olenna used to come to visit her lion from time to time, and Jaime recalled, she had sometimes dragged a little girl and boy along with her – her grandson and granddaughter. Jaime had never really paid much attention to them, and he hadn’t seen them for years. It wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t known who Margaery Tyrell had grown into. That she had inherited her Grandmother’s artistic abilities wasn’t so surprising – that she was choosing to use them on painting a bathroom in a little-known café was.

‘Of all the women, in all the world, I had to try and hit on her,’ Jaime said. He slumped back in his chair. Tyrion was never going to let him live this one down. And his little brother was sure to hear about it. Tyrion was part of the group of heirs that went to clubs together each night and showed up to group brunches the next day. Tyrion was always telling Jaime who was with who, or was sleeping with who behind their partners back, or who’d just put up half their shares in their father’s business to piss their parents off. And he also knew that Margaery was part of that group.

‘Margaery is fine,’ Brienne said. ‘She won’t care. She gets asked out several times a day.’ The café was growing a little quieter as a large group of women took their children back out into the world, and Brienne lowered her voice so they wouldn’t be in danger of being overheard.

‘You speak as if you know her,’ Jaime said.

‘I’ve known Margaery for years,’ Brienne said, and while there wasn’t warmth in her voice, there wasn’t disdain either. ‘Olenna came to my school to judge an art contest when I was 16. She looked at my work, and complimented me, and told me all about her granddaughter and how she was already starting to take an interest in art. We corresponded after that, and then me and Margaery attended a few of the same gallery openings and artist shows and got talking.’ Brienne shrugged. ‘And before you ask, I didn’t just tell my dad to go for her to paint the bathroom because we know each other. I didn’t know that she’d applied – I thought something like this would be too low down for her. But apparently her Grandmother told her to branch out, to take on the little jobs and to build a legacy.’

Jaime hummed into his coffee, still too wound up about his rejection. He couldn’t care less about why Margaery had got the job, or whether Brienne had given it to her just because they knew one another. Lannisters was pretty much always staffed with a couple of offspring of his father’s friends, looking for their first work experience, or because his father wanted a favour from them.

‘You’re still mad because she said no, aren’t you?’ Brienne asked, and it was stupid, so stupid and thoughtless, but Jaime had learned at Cersei’s hand that when hurt the easiest thing to do was make others hurt too, so when the words flew out of his mouth, he didn’t even try to stop them.

‘Just because some people are probably used to rejection doesn’t make it okay for the rest of us.’ He was lashing out at her, because he wanted to ask her out, but he’d been told not to, and because if Margaery could reject him, based on a five minute conversation then what was stopping Brienne from doing the same thing, and how could he ask Brienne out if rejection from someone he didn’t even care about made him feel like this?

He waited for Brienne to scowl at him, or get up and walk away. For her to snap back uglier words that would come to haunt him in the dead of night, or for her to slap him, or pour his coffee over him.

Instead she frowned at him, her gaze searching his face for who knew what before she took another sip of her tea, and a silence settled between them.

‘Why did she say no anyway?’ Brienne asked. ‘I would have thought you were just her type.’

He should pick her up on it, he knew. Ask her why she was brushing over his words, wonder how she could sit there so calmly and carry on the conversation like his comment hadn’t been a thinly veiled insult at her expense.

But he couldn’t do it. All he felt was grateful.

‘She said she was a purist,’ he said. ‘That’s someone who only dates their soulmate,’ he added.

Brienne gave him that look again, the one that seemed to wonder why she was entertaining a conversation with an idiot when she was much too smart for them.

‘I know what a purist is,’ she said, but the frown was back. ‘She said she was waiting for her soulmate?’

‘Yeah,’ Jaime said. ‘Didn’t you know she was one?’

‘I didn’t know she had a soulmate,’ Brienne said. She hesitated for a second, but Jaime guessed the rules about discussing soulmarks only applied to clients. ‘But I’ve never even known her to have a soulmark. It could be a new one, but I follow her on social media, and she hasn’t posted about it. And purist’s usually only count themselves as such when they’re born with a soulmark, or one appears with a natural age difference. Under five or so.’ Her lips were pursed as she tried to figure the puzzle out. ‘And it wasn’t faded or struck through with lines, and the whole mark was perfect? No broken lines, or anything?’

‘Nope, it was as pretty as a picture,’ Jaime said. ‘And it is a soulmark. The petals seemed to shimmer. No tattoo could do that.’ Brienne nodded. Jaime might be a little behind in his soulmate knowledge, but even he could tell the difference between a tattoo and a soulmark. ‘She never told you she had one?’

‘No,’ Brienne said. ‘I got to know her a little more about five years ago. That’s when she was dating Renly. She used to be in the offices all the time. That’s why I don’t understand why she’d call herself a purist. I never thought her and Renly were that into each other, but I was sure they didn’t have matching marks. I didn’t think either of them had soulmarks. Renly’s showed up around the time I left, but I’ve never heard anything about Margaery’s.’

‘Oh,’ Jaime said, hating that he suddenly understood why Brienne and Margaery weren’t that friendly despite knowing each other for years, being of similar ages, and both being artists. Renly.

‘Well, maybe it was one of your stories then,’ Jaime suggested. ‘Maybe she passed by her soulmate in the street and it just appeared but she didn’t realise at the time.’

‘Hmm.’ Jaime could tell she wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t know how else to reassure her. Or why she cared so much.

‘You know,’ Jaime said, because he felt like he wanted to speak about this and his next therapist’s appointment wasn’t for another four days, and there was nobody else he could even imagine talking about this with, ‘for a second, when she raised her arm, before I saw the golden flower, I was almost hoping that our soulmarks would match.’

‘Well she is very beautiful,’ Brienne said, but Jaime was already shaking his head.

‘It’s not that,’ he said. ‘It would just have been so much easier. All the questions would be answered. You know? I’d be sitting here having coffee with my soulmate right now. We’d be getting to know each other. The typical soulmate meets soulmate, just walking into each other’s lives, happily ever after bullshit story we’ve all been told.’ For that split second, he had imagined it; and it hadn’t been about Margaery, not at all. It wasn’t that she was classically beautiful, because Jaime had started to have a new appreciation for women with too big facial features, short blonde hair, and intense blue eyes.

‘It’s a nice idea,’ Brienne said softly. But it felt like more than an idea to Jaime. He’d spent so long ignoring his soulmark and wishing it would go away and hating the unknown woman who wore the matching one on her arm, but in that second when Margaery had raised her arm, the desire for his story to finally be over with, and for him not to have to think about it anymore was stronger than anything. ‘Sorry, did you say golden flower?’

‘Yes,’ Jaime said, trying to recall the image Margaery had flashed him only ten minutes ago. ‘A golden rose, with crimped petals, and a long thin elegant green vine wrapped around the middle.’

Brienne’s mug paused an inch from her lips. ‘A golden rose with crimped petals and a green vine wrapped around it?’

‘Yes,’ Jaime said slowly.

‘Excuse me,’ Brienne said, standing from her chair and walking towards the bathroom. She ignored the ‘closed for refurbishment, please ask a member of staff if you wish to use the facilities’ sign, and disappeared from Jaime’s sight.

Well. That was an interesting development. Maybe the universe had determined that Jaime was only ever going to want women who he could never really be with. His twin sister, a lesbian.

It was only a few minutes later when Brienne came back, checked her phone for any missed calls and then pulled the menu towards her, and started reading the lunch options.

‘Was it a match?’ Jaime asked, glad that his voice wasn’t as rough as he thought it might sound. He didn’t even know Brienne, not really, but there was something tugging at him, pulling him towards her. Maybe it was over reaching, that he wanted someone who was as different from Cersei as it was possible to be, or that Brienne was the first women he’d met in a long time who didn’t just look through him, or knew him as a Lannister.

Or maybe it just the way her smiles had to be coaxed from her, and he felt proud of himself every time he achieved one. That her blue eyes were astonishing and such a contract to the rest of her. That she didn’t hide and cower when she walked into a room, but pushed her shoulders back and took the stares and whispers that followed her as though they fueled her.

‘Hmm, what?’ Brienne asked. She shook her head. ‘Did you just ask me if I and Margaery Tyrell had matching soulmarks?’

‘Yes,’ Jaime said because he didn’t think there was any point in denying it, even though he felt stupid now. ‘I mean the way you rushed to talk to her. And you said yourself you never knew she had a soulmark.’ He shrugged, like it wasn’t that far of a conclusion to jump to.

‘Not for myself,’ Brienne said, but she gave no other details. ‘I think I might get the bacon and bream toastie for lunch. Did you want something?’ It took a second for Jaime to work out that it wasn’t a bacon and fish toastie, but a bacon and brie one.

He already knew there was no point forcing the issue. Brienne wasn’t going to give him any more details.

‘A King Nep-tuna sandwich,’ Jaime said. Before Brienne could get up to place their orders – she insisted on going – Margaery was slipping into the empty seat at their table, her gaze focused on nothing but Brienne.

‘I’ve thought about what you said,’ Margaery said, breathlessly, even though she’d only power walked from the bathroom, thirty seconds away, ‘and yes. I would like to go ahead.’

‘You’ve thought about it?’ Brienne said. ‘Since I talked to you.’

‘Yes,’ Margaery said. ‘Or, rather, no, because it was about two minutes ago, but there’s nothing to really think about. I mean it’s my soulmate.’

‘It’s potentially your soulmate,’ Brienne said. ‘I told you, I might not be right.’

‘No, but it sounds similar enough for me to at least need to check it out,’ Margaery said. There was a new bright sheen to her eyes that hadn’t been there when Jaime had spoken to her. ‘Come on, Brienne, what would you do? If someone walked up to you and said not to freak out, but you might know of a potential soulmark match and would you be interested in meeting them?’

‘Well,’ Brienne said, and she shifted in her seat, her fingers flexing on the arm of her chair. ‘You know it would be...tricky with my soulmark. It would be a difficult choice to make.’

‘Although, probably not that different from mine, I imagine?’ Margaery said. Jaime’s head hurt trying to follow the conversation. ‘Look, I know you don’t want to tell me any details, and I respect that. If you’re wrong, then you’ll feel bad for getting my hopes up. Please. Just contact them and ask if they’d be up for meeting?’ She blinked her eyes at Brienne, and Jaime could see Brienne caving.

He didn’t know why she was taking so long to agree to set up the meeting though. Wasn’t this what everybody was after? Meeting their match. If Brienne hadn’t been keen on setting Margaery and her potential soulmate up, then why go and talk to her about it in the first place?

‘Alright,’ Brienne said, and Margaery flung her arms around Brienne’s neck, squealing. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I speak to them, okay?’

‘Thank you, thank you!’ Margaery fled back to the bathroom, although Jaime could see that she hadn’t gone back to work; from his vantage point, he could see the slimmest sliver of her body, still watching Brienne, just inside the doorway.

‘What’s the big deal?’ Jaime asked as Brienne picked her phone up off the table. ‘About Margaery and her soulmate?’ He remembered that Brienne hadn’t known about Margaery’s soulmark, even though they’d known each other. That Margaery had called herself a purist; even though according to Brienne that was the term given to those who’d had soulmarks since birth, or soon after. And it didn’t seem to him that Brienne was about to put Margaery in contact with the family of a new born baby. No, there was something else going on here. Something that Brienne didn’t want to share with him.

Which could only mean one thing.

‘Hi, Pod, it’s Brienne,’ Brienne said. Jaime sat back in his chair, watching her talk and wondering if his theory would be proved correct. ‘Yes, I know mobiles have caller ID on them. How’s the job going? Oh really?’ She listened to this Pod on the other side of the phone, a small smile on her face. Pod and her were friends, that much was obvious. Jaime wondered if it was another Renly situation, but that wasn’t the vibe he was getting from her. She didn’t seem crushed that she may have discovered Pod’s soulmate, but...actually kind of happy. Or at least as happy as she would let herself get before everything was confirmed and official. ‘Listen, Pod, I’m actually calling for a reason. The thing is...I may have discovered somebody with a soulmark that matches yours.’ There was an explosion of questions from the other end, words strung together with so much force and speed that Jaime couldn’t keep up, and even Brienne closed her eyes at the assault. ‘I’ve known her for a while, but I only just discovered her soulmark today...yes I told her about you - well, I told her it could be a match. Yes, I asked her first. She was the one who asked me to call and set up a meeting. I’m sure she’s not Pod, she’s not like that at all. She seemed happy. Yes, I’m sure. No, not like she was acting. Well, she’s probably just forgiving and it’s not like you could help that. No, I didn’t tell her anything, I’d thought I’d leave that up to you. I just asked her if I could see her soulmark and that it was one I thought I’d seen somewhere before, but that she should think about it, and that I wasn’t going to do anything without her say so. Alright. Yes, I'm sure she’d be happy to. Are you sure? Really? Alright, I can do that, if she agrees. Yes, I’ll tell her. Saturday at 1pm. She’s currently repainting the bathroom at Tarth’s...yes, it would be a good meeting point. Okay. Okay. I’ll see you then.’ Brienne hung up, then looked up at Jaime like she’d forgotten he was there.

‘Pod sounds nice,’ he said, because there wasn’t really much else.

‘He is,’ Brienne said. ‘He’s one of the best people I’ve ever known.’

‘And how do you two know each other?’ Jaime asked, quickly. There it was. The look of surprise and shock and alarm that passed through Brienne’s eyes so quickly that if he hadn’t been watching for it, hadn’t been looking for confirmation, Jaime wouldn’t even had noticed so quick was she to paste her professional face back on. ‘He was a client of Dr Stark’s, wasn’t he?’ he asked gently. Brienne would never break a current client’s confidence, he was sure of that. Or anybody who’d come to get their soulmark damage fixed and then never spoken to her again.

But her and Pod had obviously become friends, and if Margaery was his soulmate then things had worked out for the best.

‘It was a couple of years ago,’ Brienne said. ‘I’d just started, and Pod was so nervous when he first came. He didn’t do the research you did. He was a client sent to Catelyn from the NHS. They have a few Pellisanimas on their lists, but only about six or seven and they’re stretched so tight as it is. Catelyn takes on a few clients from them every couple of months or so, and waives her fee.’ The pride with which Brienne spoke about her boss warmed Jaime’s heart. He wondered what it would be like to be happy about your job, not to be forced into it because of your birth. It wasn’t that he disliked working at Lannisters, and he wasn’t hiding a secret burning passion for anything else...but he did wonder. ‘I noticed that he was wearing a Knightsguard t-shirt.’ She looked at him. ‘You do what Knightsguard is?’

‘Yes,’ he replied. Knightsguard was a video game. A very popular video game, one that Jaime himself had indulged in during his teenage years. It had come out with more versions since then, modern day ones with better graphics and stories, but Jaime had thrown his gaming consoles away years ago, although he always got a fond rush of memories whenever he walked past an advertisement. ‘It’s the game where you’re a Knight in the King’s court and have to go around defending him and the city and taking on tasks and trying not to let the whole place fall into ruin.’

‘Pretty much,’ Brienne said. ‘Anyway we bonded over the game. Pod was stuck on a level, and couldn’t figure out how to fight the bandits and thieves in the latest game, so I helped him out. After his treatment was up, we continued to talk, and I guess now you’d call us friends. Or at least friendly. When his soulmark was finally free of damage he couldn’t stop showing it to everyone.’ A fond smile lit up her face, and Jaime just gazed at her for a few moments. She really should smile more. ‘I should go and tell Margaery about the meeting. I’ll order lunch on the way back.’

‘What do you need her to agree to?’ Jaime asked. No point pretending that he hadn’t been listening in on the conversation.

‘Oh, Pod wanted me to be here too, when they meet. A friendly face, just in case things don’t work out and the meeting ends awkwardly.’

‘Ah,’ Jaime said, then let her go, off to tell Margaery who’s squeals he could hear even above the chatter of the remaining customers.

Saturday. 1pm. Tarth’s.

Well, it wasn’t like Jaime had anything better to do.

Chapter Text

When Jaime and Brienne entered Dr Stark’s offices, she was waiting for them in the reception. Although she raised an eyebrow at the both of them together, she didn't say anything, except to exchange some words with Brienne about work. Jaime settled himself onto the sofa, opposite Brienne’s desk. His appointment wasn’t due to start for another twenty minutes, but it had felt stupid to hang out in Tarth’s when Brienne had got the phone call to come back to the office. They’d walked back, not talking about very much, and it was fascinating to watch Brienne slip her work skin back on. It was like another layer Brienne pulled over herself when she was in this building, to keep distance between herself and the clients. Jaime knew it slipped sometimes, but he also knew she preferred it this way. This was her job, and she was going to do it to the best of her ability.

‘Come though, Mr Lannister,’ Dr Stark said, and Jaime followed her into her office. She led him to the desk today, and he settled onto the chair he’d sat in his first meeting, pushing up the sleeves on his shirt and laying his arm across the desk.

Dr Stark took her seat, and studied his arm for the first five minutes, not saying a word. The memory of her words from last week slammed into him, and he inwardly cursed himself. He had still not brought nor applied any of the creams that he was supposed to rub into his soulmark daily to help ease the healing between these sessions. He always meant to, but then Pia or Tyrion would call his house phone, and he’d get sucked into a work drama, and push his soulmark to the back of his mind because it was easier to deal with like that.

‘If you ask Brienne, we can arrange to have some creams sent to the office for you,’ Dr Stark said eventually. ‘We’ll add it to your invoice.’ Jaime nodded, but he knew he wasn’t going to do that. His time with Brienne was limited, and he didn’t want to spend a moment of it talking about his ongoing treatment. That would just remind her that he was a client and the invisible barrier Brienne had dissolved between them would be back up.

Dr Stark pursed her lips a little as though she knew just what Jaime was thinking, but she left it at that, sliding open a drawer in her desk and selecting the tools she needed for today’s session. She lifted his arm up to lay a mat underneath, and Jaime watched as she placed the instruments she’d need into a cleaning solution, even though he’d bet they were already clean.

Today she’d be pricking the skin around the scars on his arm, and then injecting his arm with some kind of medicine. This was supposed to make the scars looser, so that they could be cut away next week with little fuss, although Jaime couldn’t really see how that would work.

But work it would. He’d read several accounts of people who’d undergone the same treatment and all had praised the results. Of course, with Jaime’s soulmark being as damaged as it, more needed to be done to get his soulmark back to what it should be.

‘We don’t tend to speak much about upcoming treatments,’ Dr Stark said as she wiped the tools with a white cloth, before laying them down on another one just next to her. ‘But we should discuss the Shaving and talk about your options.’

‘Are there many options?’ Jaime asked, shivering, despite the fact that it wasn’t cold in the office. The Shaving. He put off thinking about it, and he knew Dr Stark was following his lead, by not talking about it either.

‘Well, you’ve already agreed to undergo the process,’ Dr Stark said. ‘But there are a few choices to decide upon before the day. Would you like us to order a numbing cream in? We apply it liberally to the whole area, before we put it under the machine.’

‘Does it help?’ Jaime asked. Dr Stark shrugged.

‘From what I’ve read, there’s little difference. Not that there are any true accounts. Those who undergo the Shaving don’t tend to wish to repeat the experience, not even for medical purposes. Nobody seemed to have tried both ways. But, those who did opt for the numbing cream, still wrote that it hurt.’

Jaime nodded, taking this in. The Shaving was a fairly new concept, although there had been a version of it for many years, except the doctors would have to perform it by hand. Jaime hated the idea of that; watching as somebody took the sharpest, thinnest blade they could and scraped it over your soulmark again and again and again, inch by inch, layer by layer, until all the old damages had been removed, and the raw exposed bloody patch of your skin was left out in the open. It had been a procedure perfected over the years – apparently, they used to just yank the entire chunk of your skin off, digging as deep as they could, but there were too many risks involved in that, mainly people bleeding out and dying. A slower process was introduced, one that took at least half an hour depending on the size of the soulmark.

This had been the main reason Jaime had chosen to go to Dr Stark. There were healers who were further away, but only two others in the entire world had their own Shaving machine. They were expensive, Jaime knew, probably the most expensive piece of medical equipment in the world. A few hospitals had them, but if Jaime had picked one of the other healers, that would mean travelling to another place for his treatment, and he couldn’t face that. There would be more treatments afterwards; there would still probably be a few places that needed the skin flattening out, the areas the Shaving hadn’t quite gotten to. He still hadn’t mentioned the burn mark on his arm to Dr Stark, and he knew that required another treatment, more medicine, more injections. He knew that the Shaving would take at least a week and a half to recover from, and even then, the new skin would be shiny, and raw and need to be kept wrapped up at all times unless you were applying cream to it. Then Dr Stark would have to sort out his skin pigmentation, and potentially fix up any lines on his soulmark that had faded or hadn’t come through. Then the whole thing needed to be treated with the lavender slave from his first appointment, and Jaime would finally be free. He’d have a soulmark that didn’t need hiding, that could be displayed to the world.

The only reason Jaime would have to keep his soulmark hidden, was because of the emotions tied to it.

‘Let’s not bother with the cream,’ Jaime said. ‘If it’s going to hurt, it’s going to hurt. No point in delaying the process by five minutes.’

Dr Stark nodded, and made a small mark on her notes, then bent her head over his arm, and picked up a tiny delicate silver tool that looked a little like a pin.

Silence settled around them as with quick, efficient hands, Dr Stark stuck the pin into Jaime’s skin again and again and again, drawing a line around one of the seven scars they needed to perform this on.

Jaime grit his teeth, and reminded himself that this was nothing compared to what was coming, or to what had come before. Cersei had done more damage; even Jaime had, when he’d burnt off the sun and moon.

He leaned his head back against his chair so he was staring at the ceiling, instead of watching his arm be attacked. He tried to focus on the latest work issue, but found he couldn’t concentrate. So, instead, he focused on the pain, and wondered what it would bring him.

After the session had ended, Dr Stark followed him into the foyer. Jaime’s arm was throbbing, although some of the pain had subsided since Dr Stark had insisted on slathering the soulmark with cream. She’d handed him the small tube she had in her desk – a sample pot, she said – and he’d slipped it into his pocket. He would use it this week.

Brienne was sitting at the desk, but she wasn’t looking at the laptop in front of her. She didn’t even appear to notice when Jaime and Dr Stark approached her, so intent was she on something she appeared to be writing – no drawing, Jaime saw as he got closer.

‘Brienne?’ Dr Stark said, but it wasn’t until she laid a hand on her assistant’s arm, that Brienne seemed to come to. Before Jaime could get a good look at what she’d been drawing, the page was flipped over. ‘Is everything alright?’

‘Everything is fine,’ Brienne said, pasting her profession smile over her face. ‘Mr Lannister’s invoice is just here.’ She rustled through some papers on her desk, and even after just a few weeks, Jaime knew this wasn’t like her. She always had the invoice ready and waiting for him.

When she handed the page over to him, her arm stretched out over the desk. Her forearm was bright pink, with scratches marring the skin. Jaime opened his mouth to ask about it, but he caught the frown on Dr Stark’s face, and decided not to ask the question.

As Jaime tucked the invoice into his pocket – he never bothered to look at it, just glanced at what he owed and put the money through once he got home – Dr Stark was still frowning at Brienne. Her blue eyes traveled between Brienne’s arm and the pencil in her hand, as though she was trying to figure something out.

When she noticed Jaime’s gaze on her, however, she cleared her throat and turned to him. ‘Mr Lannister, forgive me. I heard the happy news. Please, pass on my congratulations.’ Her smile was forced, but so was Jaime’s. Happy news? Jaime had heard nothing of this, but he knew when to play his part. It would be some award Lannister’s had won that Tyrion had mentioned once and had gone straight over Jaime’s head.

‘Of course I will,’ Jaime said.

‘Your father must be ecstatic,’ Dr Stark said. ‘It’s a great match.’

Jaime hummed his agreement, and made the mistake of meeting Brienne’s eyes. She reached over to the end of the desk, and flipped over to the front page of one of today’s tabloid newspapers. The offices took in a selection of media each day to provide their clients entertainment while they were waiting, Jaime knew, even though he’d never browsed one.

He glanced at the front, expecting to see his father holding some award, or Tyrion, photographed, drunk and stumbling out of a club at 3am – it had been front page news before, on a slow news day – but instead, was confronted with a full colour photo of a couple. Cersei Lannister, Jaime’s twin sister, and his lover of 18 years was wrapped in the embrace of a dark haired, handsome man, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulder, as she showed her giant engagement ring off to the camera. The photo had obviously been lifted from a social media account, although this wasn’t some artful shot taken with a good mobile camera. A professional had been paid to light the couple in a romantic glow, and position them to their best angles.

‘I see it’s not a Casterly,’ Dr Stark said, gesturing to the photo. ‘Your father won’t be happy about that, I assume. I don’t think I’ve mentioned that I’ve met him a few times. Just at business dinners, every few years, but he doesn’t strike me as the type that would be happy with his only daughter wearing a competitor on her finger.’

‘Yes,’ Jaime said, the word pulled from him through a fog. ‘I can’t imagine he’s too happy about that either.’ Lannisters might sell all sorts of jewels, but it was known for its Casterly Rocks – engagement rings with the biggest, flawlessly cut diamonds in the world, set in white gold bands, with tiny lions holding the stone in place. Each rock cost £4.5 million, and they were the most sought-after rings amongst the rich and famous. Jaime glanced at his sister’s ring, so he could stop looking at the gleam in her eyes. It would be custom made, he had no doubt about that. And the ring was of the highest quality, he could see that. Jaime would guess that it cost her fiancé around the £6 million mark.

But it wasn’t like Robert Baratheon couldn’t afford it. The media mogul had several companies under his umbrella, including print media, and streaming services. He was constantly adding to his impressive portfolio, and he was never out of the papers himself. Mainly for the many gorgeous women that dripped from his arm at every event he attended, or the trouble he seemed to get himself into every week; whether it was getting banned from gentlemen’s clubs for his behavior, or having his off the cuff comments pulled apart by the public.

‘They make a lovely couple,’ Dr Stark said, and it was all Jaime could do to nod his head. His throat felt like it had closed up, and even though it had been three years, and he had never, not for a single second thought that Cersei was living the life of a nun, to see her like this, with another man’s arms wrapped around her, with that smirk on her lips that he used to be able to see every day...it was a pain Jaime hadn’t been ready for.

He clenched his hand on the desktop, his chest heaving, his breathing coming quicker and quicker. He shouldn’t feel like this. Wasn’t that the point of the therapy? Wasn’t that the point of the past three years, of putting as much distance between him and her as possibly, of making excuses as to why he couldn’t attend the family Christmas in case she happened to show up, or why he hadn’t visited his mother’s grave because she would know that would be where to find him?

He looked up from the picture, unable to stare at the happy couple anymore, and caught bright blue eyes staring back at him. He should look away; if anyone could see what was going on in his head, Jaime knew it would be Brienne. But he didn’t. He focused on her eyes, on the steady, unflinching, solid weight of her gaze.

It took a minute, but his breathing went back to normal, and his hand un-clenched from the table.

Cersei was moving on, and it hurt like hell; but maybe he was too. And the pain would lessen. It would dull, and one day it would become so that he wouldn’t even feel it any more. Or at least that was what he had to keep hoping for.

An electronic trilling sound broke the spell over the office, and Dr Stark pulled a phone from her pocket, before muttering her goodbyes and settling herself back behind her office door. This was Jaime’s cue to leave too, he knew it.

But he couldn’t. Something was keeping him pinned here, and he knew he needed a little more time before he could leave. If he walked out those doors now, he was heading straight for a bottle to drown his emotions, and thoughts he didn’t want.

‘I haven’t told you about Renly’s soulmark, have I?’ Brienne said. Her voice was casual, and she wasn’t looking at him anymore, but rather at her laptop screen, as though this was a normal day, and Jaime was just here to annoy her as she tried to get on with her work.

‘No,’ Jaime said, grateful that his voice sounded clear. ‘You haven’t.’

‘It’s another unconventional one,’ Brienne said.

‘I wouldn’t want anything else,’ he said, and there it was, the small upturn at the side of her lips and the brief flicker of a warm glow in Jaime’s chest. He sat down on the sofa, even though it wasn’t the best place. He still felt like a child sitting here, with Brienne towering above him. But it was solid beneath him, and the lavender smell was working its magic, and the panpipes were calming.

‘Keep in mind, like everything else to do with soulmarks, this particular nugget of wisdom I’m about to impart upon you may not hold true for all,’ Brienne said, and Jaime nodded. He understood that now; not all soulmarks were created equal. He’d watched another recommended film from Brienne last night, a mash up of film genres, called Slavers Bay. In it, a young woman had been sold to a fearful man, by her brother. At first she had trembled when the man came anywhere near her, but as time had gone on, and the man showed himself to her, the woman had fallen for him; finally, just when you thought the story wouldn’t have a happy ending after all, that the brother would make good on his threats to take the woman away from her marriage, soulmarks had appeared on the husband and wife; a cluster of stars, made into the shape of a horse. The film had ended with them murdering the brother, and going on the run, which Jaime had found a bit surprising, but he supposed that wasn’t really the part Brienne had wanted him to pay attention to. ‘Renly wasn’t born with a soulmark. Nor did he gain a perfect one until the age of 22.’ Age gaps weren’t unheard of, Jaime knew that, but he did know that most people who had their soulmark show up randomly once they were over the age of ten, actively didn’t look for their matching image until sixteen years later. ‘It appeared on his right calf the moment he came out to his family,’ Brienne said. ‘He always says it was lucky he was wearing shorts that day, otherwise he might have missed it.’

‘Okay,’ Jaime said. He wasn’t entirely sure why Brienne had chosen today to disclose this story to him; maybe she’d just assumed he needed something to distract him. ‘Jaime,’ Brienne said, and he could tell she knew he didn’t understand, ‘Renly’s soulmark didn’t appear until he told his family he was gay. He knew himself at 19 years of age, but his soulmark wouldn’t show until he was ready to tell the world. Some people believe that soulmarks, which are connected to you in a way nothing else is, try to protect you. Of course, there are several cases which disprove that, but there are many more cases like Renly’s. Gay people who spend their life believing there is no one out there for them, until the moment they come out.’

Jaime nodded again, but his attention was wondering. He was letting his mind drift, back to that very last day with Cersei.

The thing that got to him, even after all this time, was that it wasn’t supposed to have been the last time. They’d been arguing about something so trivial that Jaime doesn’t even remember what it was; she’d let a man put their arm around her on a night out maybe, or Jaime hadn’t defended her action plan for the business to their father as well as Cersei would have liked perhaps. Stuff they’d fought about many times before, and Jaime had expected them to do so afterwards.

He’d left in a huff, like he’d done before, letting the door slam behind him. Cersei had gone to ground for a week like she tended to do, to put as much distance between them until she calmed down and came crawling back into his bed.

But she hadn’t. There had been nobody rustling his door at midnight, no feather light touches waking him up, no screaming, sobbing voicemails even, Cersei screaming about all the ways Jaime had wronged her over the years. She only ever called him or text him when she was angry with him, and Jaime had come to dread the pings from his phone as he wondered how long her anger would last; but this time his phone had stayed dark and silent.

And he didn’t go back to her. He didn’t send her the biggest bouquet of flowers he could order online, with a message begging for forgiveness. He didn’t let himself into her flat, sneaking up behind her, and drawing her into an embrace, letting the peaceful feeling he only ever felt with her snake around him and quiet his emotions that scrambled whenever he was without her. He didn’t even randomly turn up at a public event, and make sure she would spend the whole night seeing him, driving her even more mad, and usually ending with them fucking in a way too easy to be caught public place, hard and furious and then sated and together.

He thought about it. Every day, for months, when he woke up, Cersei had been the first thing on his mind. He’d wondered if today would be the day that the string that tied them together would tighten and bring them back to each other; but it never did. He wouldn’t say that something held him back, but each day brought with it another night, and still Jaime was in bed alone, thinking of her, and wondering about tomorrow.

And then, it had been six months, and it was too late. Jaime had woken with a heavy feeling in his gut, and the memories of their eighteen years together crowding his brain. It was the longest time they’d ever gone without speaking, and call it what you will, but Jaime had known that their time with each other had come to an end.

A month later, when Cersei was seen kissing an up and coming singer, it was the final nail. Jaime had mourned for her like she was dead, drinking every day, and not showing up for work, until Tyrion had finally dragged him back to the land of the living. And each day the tug to go and see her, to beg her to forgive him, to hold her in his arms again was less and less.

Tyrion had been the one to gently suggest the therapist. Even, he said, without all the complexity of their romantic entanglement, Jaime had still lost his twin. He should find someone who could help Jaime explore his mess of emotions. Plus, Tyrion had told him, he was sick of hearing Jaime’s shit, and nobody else was going to listen unless he paid them. So Jaime had dragged himself to a therapist where it had taken them six months to get to the Cersei stuff – they'd dined out on stories about Tywin, which Jaime had felt was plenty enough to be getting on with – and then they’d listened with a blank face as Jaime told them haltingly about his sister.

‘Jaime,’ Brienne said, and he pulled his mind back to this room, back to this woman. ‘I told you that there are ways for other types of love to show themselves. Even shameful or secret love.’ She paused for a second, but Jaime couldn’t let his mind go to what she was hinting at, because he’d never be able to come here again, before she went on. ‘Some people believe that soulmarks hide somewhere inside us until we’re ready to be who we really are. In rare cases, where the love between two people would be frowned upon, soulmarks have been known to etch themselves on a place not visible to the human eye. Teachers and their students; sometimes the soulmarks manifest themselves on the skin the moment the student turns sixteen. In other cases, not until years later, even though the couple have been together for a while, in secret.’ Brienne took a deep breath. ‘Not much research has been done on this matter. You can imagine; if you harbor a secret love, you don’t want to take part in studies to help the community at large gain a better understanding. But, as with everything, there have been cases. People who needed transplants. People who leave their body to soulmark research and die with a secret love inside them.’

‘What do you mean?’ Jaime asked. She called him to the desk, and then before he could object, she took his hand in hers, and pricked his finger with a tiny golden pin. Considering all that Jaime had been through in the past hour alone, he wasn’t sure why he cried out ‘ow,’ but he did, even as Brienne smeared his blood onto a blank sheet of white paper she seemed to have laid on her desk purely for this purpose.

‘I mean that if you love someone, so much so that they touch a part of you, a soulmark needs to appear somewhere on your body. You need to understand that this doesn’t apply to those who end up in jail for crimes they might call ‘love.’ That’s not love; that’s usually power and sickness.’ Jaime nodded, a little bit scared. Brienne still held the pin in her hand. ‘In the cases where people have loved someone they are forbidden to have; even just your brother’s wife, or even those closer to home; it has been discovered that soulmarks can be found on the heart.’ Jaime’s heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. Brienne knew. She had to. There was no reason for her to share this story otherwise.

But she wasn’t looking at him like she was disgusted, or like he was dirty. She wasn’t actually looking at him at all, but rather studying the streak of blood on the page in front of her, turning it this way and that.

Was this it? The answer to the question that had plagued him night after night; if him and Cersei were meant for each other, then why didn’t they have matching soulmarks? Because they were hidden in a place that literally couldn’t be seen? It was true that Cersei had left a mark upon him. Several, in fact. ‘But when that love starts to fade, and it was hiding not because you hadn’t come to terms with yourself yet, or you needed to be sheltered from the world for a little while longer; just like any normal soulmark, the colours will fade when the love does,’ Brienne said. ‘If it’s a secret love, one that never sees the light of day, it’s called leeching; and look.’ She pointed to the outskirts of the streak of his blood, her nail hovering an inch or so away above the smear. ‘Secret soulmarks can’t fade away though; they need more. I don’t know if to love in secret means a stronger bond, or just that this is the soulmarks way of continuing to protect you; but the soulmark leeches out of you; the colours drain, the lines fade. If you know what you’re looking for, you can see it in the blood.’ Jaime peered closed at the part she was pointing to, his heart stopping. There. At the very edges, the blood, now dried, had turned to a ruby red; except the outskirts. They were dotted with small black spots. Almost like they’d been coloured over with a felt tip. ‘As I say, this could mean nothing,’ Brienne said now. Her tone was gentle. ‘One person’s soulmark story is very unlikely to be the same as another’s. And just because there are black dots in your blood it doesn’t mean that you don’t love the person any less than you once did.’

‘What if I do?’ Jaime said, his voice quiet. Cersei was leeching out of him. The proof was right in front of him. ‘What if I do love her less?’

Brienne shrugged, sitting back in her chair, and idly scratching at her left forearm again. It remineded Jaime of the pain in his arm which he’d forgotten about. ‘Only you know that, and what I’ve shown you today doesn’t change a thing. Souls and hearts and brains; it’s all so messed up and complicated and nobody really knows anything about what loves and what part wants want and which path to follow. The soulmarks on our bodies don’t need to be followed; all of them are just a guide.’

Jaime stood up, running a hand over his face, a question in his mind. He needed to know. And Brienne was safe; she’d proved that. She wasn’t going to judge him; at least not to his face, he knew. And she wasn’t going to gossip about him behind his back. He was still a client after all.

‘Do you know if my sister and Robert have soulmarks?’ he asked. He couldn’t meet her eye, so focused once again on his blood. Cersei was trickling out of his heart, into his blood at this very moment. The colours would fade eventually, and she’d be gone.

‘The article talks about two very small matching crowns around their ring fingers,’ Brienne said softly. ‘However, from the photo, it is very hard to tell them apart from a very good tattoo.’ And they’d be covered by the engagement and wedding rings. Since the rings would cost millions of pounds it wouldn’t be worth the risk to take them off, and let people have a look at the soulmarks. Nobody would ever know. ‘I’ll see you next week Mr Lannister,’ Brienne said, turning back to her computer. She crumpled the piece of paper with his blood on it, and dropped it into the bin next to her.

‘Goodbye Miss Tarth,’ Jaime said, shoving his hands into his pocket. ‘And thank you.’

There it was, once again. The tiny up quirk of the lips that Jaime had been looking for.

Chapter Text

On Saturday afternoon, as Jaime got out of his car, he blinked in the bright light of the sun. If there was perfect weather for meeting your soulmate, Jaime thought this would be it. There was a gentle breeze, stirring the few dropped leaves along the pavement, while the sun shone high in the sky, not a cloud to be seen. He dawdled a little as he made his way to Tarth’s, enjoying the fresh air. He’d been shut up inside for almost two full days, dealing with the latest Lannister’s launch. Not only did this mean making sure that all the advertising was dealt with, it meant preparing the shop for the launch. It was tough going, and Tyrion had decided to choose this week to go on one of his spontaneous holidays, leaving Jaime to deal with everything. Tywin left most of the day to day running of the shop to his sons more often than not now days, so that he could do...well, whatever he got up to and one of the things Jaime struggled with was knowing which parts were his to deal with, and which parts he was supposed to leave to others. But the launch was all in place, and everyone was excited, and really that was all Jaime could hope for.

Jaime hadn’t even managed to half way open the door to Tarth’s when it was yanked open from the other side.

‘What are you doing here?’ Brienne asked. There was heat in her voice but none in her expression.

‘Can you blame me?’ Jaime said, pushing past her and into the coolness of the café. For a Saturday, it was the deadest Jaime had seen it. A few pale office workers sat alone at tables, cups of coffee in front of them, ignored for their phones. He’d always known the area was mostly office buildings and the school down the road, so he supposed this made sense. Nobody was going to venture into this area, on a weekend, not when the main shops were twenty minutes away, and the tourist restaurants were nearer. ‘How often will I get to see two soulmates finding each other?’ he asked.

‘Statistically at least once,’ Brienne said, but she followed him back over to the counter, where Jaime found Davos making Brienne’s tea in the familiar blue and white striped mug. Jaime grunted in response to Brienne’s answer; he hadn’t really thought about it like that. Yes, given that this universe provided people with soulmarks, Jaime was bound to see at least one meeting between soulmates in his lifetime; when he met his own.

‘The happy couple not here yet?’ Jaime asked, looking around but spotting no sign of Margaery anywhere; Pod, of course, could be anyone. He didn’t think Pod was likely to be the forty-year-old with a grey face who appeared to be sleeping over a half-eaten sandwich on the table in front of him, but then again you never knew.

‘Margaery’s in the bathroom, putting her nerves to good use,’ Brienne said, taking the tea, and settling in at a table just opposite the counter. It wasn’t their usual, and Jaime felt a brief stab of regret; but of course, this choice made much more sense. They’d be able to keep an eye on Margery and Pod much better from here, without a wall in their way. ‘And Pod isn’t due to arrive for ten more minutes,’ Brienne said, checking a watch on her wrist. Jaime noticed that the black cuff to deal with her sailing injury was back in place. ‘He only got back into the UK this morning, and he said he was going to come straight here, but it depends on traffic from the airport.’

‘What does he do?’ Jaime asked, focusing on the conversation and not on the relief at how normal this was. Their last conversation had been on his mind constantly. He should have denied it – even though there was nothing he could really deny. Brienne hadn’t come out and said anything, jut hinted that Jaime may not have been as subtle as he liked to think. And to deny something, meant to admit to it in the first place. He had wondered if coming today was a good idea, but he wanted to see Margaery and this Pod meet, and see if it was just like the movies; if you felt that tug somewhere deep on your soul, on a subconscious level, and wondered if the person you’d just met was the one meant for you.

‘Pod’s a... well, he calls himself a decorator, but it’s more than that. He makes vases and clay pots and all manner of other things. He travels all over the world for reasons that escape me, either to source materials, or sell his creations I think.’ Brienne took a sip of her tea. ‘That’s why he couldn’t meet Margaery until today.’

‘How sure are you?’ Jaime asked, cautiously. ‘That their soulmarks match?’ Soulmarks seemed so varied, but there were only a certain number of images in the world. Some people were bound to have soulmarks that looked similar, although not identical. Even Jaime with his limited knowledge had heard of those stories; a woman who tricked a man into thinking their marks were matching, although anyone who looked closer would have noticed that the two handprints had slightly different palm lines.

‘98%,’ Brienne said. ‘I wouldn’t have mentioned it to them for anything less.’ There was a tiny frown on her face, and Jaime knew that she was worried about this possibility herself. Even given what she used to do for a living, she doubted herself. ‘I would have invited them both to a dinner party, or a meeting here, and let things take their natural course. Forgive my manners; can I get you anything?’ She nodded to the empty space in front of Jaime.

‘I’ll get it,’ he said, jumping up and heading back for the counter. Davos appeared to be on his own phone, but he slid it back into his pocket as Jaime approached. ‘A Land-Ahoy Latte please,’ Jaime ordered. When the coffee came, in its tall glass, Jaime was surprised by the tiny black ink drawing down the side, of a tiny little telescope. Other than that, it was a normal latte, and Jaime had a feeling that when it came time to do the coffees Selwyn had been running out of steam...and puns.

Jaime had just sat down again when the splashing over the door sounded, and in walked a young man with a shock of dark hair. He was pale, with a faint shadow of a beard. He looked a little stockier than Jaime had been expecting; and although he wasn’t ugly, he wasn’t the kind of guy Jaime had thought would be Margery Tyrell’s soulmate.

All that changed though, when Pod caught sight of Brienne, and the kindest smile lit his face as he rushed over, shaking her hand warmly, a glow behind his eyes.

‘Brienne, thank you so much for this,’ he said. ‘How is she? Is she here?’

‘Pod, it’s good to see you,’ Brienne said. ‘She’s in the bathroom, but she’s appeared every five minutes or so, just to check on your arrival. I’m sure she’ll be back round in a moment. Would you like something to drink?’

‘Oh, no, I couldn’t,’ Pod said, and Jaime noticed the man was ever so slightly shaking. Not with a kind of excited energy, which Jaime would have expected, but with nerves. ‘Have you told her anything about me?’

‘No,’ Brienne said. ‘I thought it best not to tell either of you any details.’ Pod was nodding, but it was too frantic.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Okay.’

‘Pod, if you don’t want to do this, I can tell her,’ Brienne started to say, but Pod was already shaking his head. He hadn’t even glanced at Jaime, who tried not to be offended by it.

‘No, no I want to do this,’ Pod said. ‘It’s just...what if she hates me?’

‘She’s not like that,’ Brienne said. ‘Look, Pod, I understand probably better than most, and I promise you have nothing to worry about.’

‘Brienne?’ said a gentle voice, and all three people at the table turned to look at Margaery Tyrell who was now standing just a little way behind Brienne’s chair.

She looked lovely today Jaime admitted. Gone were the artist clothes, replaced by a lace dress, with her hair plaited down her back. Only her hands gave her away as they fiddled nervously at her sides.

Pod straightened up, and walked towards her, like everything and everyone else had fallen away, which it probably had. He stopped just within arm’s reach, and Jaime thought he’d probably practiced this moment a thousand times over the past 50 or so hours since Brienne’s phone call. He probably knew just what he wanted his first words to be; had crafted and googled the best thing to say upon meeting your (98% chance) soulmate.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Pod said. ‘So sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, and you should know it wasn’t me. My mother gave me to a cousin when I was young and he was angry and bitter and mean and he did it to me, and I know it’s just an excuse and I’m sorry. I should have done more. And this isn’t how I wanted to start out, I wanted to tell you how pretty I thought you looked, not that now I’m seeing you the word pretty would have done you justice because you’re beautiful, but I just need you to know how sorry I am.’

‘It’s alright,’ Margaery said, and there was such a smile on her face that Jaime felt the need to look away.

‘It’s not,’ Pod said. ‘It’s really not. I hurt you. That’s the one thing I never want to do, and I caused you so much pain.’

Jaime, while sipping his drink and trying not to look like he was listening to the conversation – although he doubted Pod and Margaery cared, since they still hadn’t moved away from the table – tried to make sense of Pod's words. Pod and Margaery had never met before today, so why was Pod talking like he’d already broken her heart? He wouldn’t have come all this way, just to tell Margaery he wasn’t interested in her, would he?

‘As you’ve just stated none of the pain was your fault,’ Margaery said. ‘Don’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t change. And I know you feel like you could have done more, but if the man who looked after you was intent on causing you harm that’s not your fault. And don’t worry about the pain.’ Margaery reached out a hand, and Pod met her half way, their hands connecting in the middle. Jaime glanced at their arms, but both of them had sleeves on, and he couldn’t see their soulmarks. After this conversation, he hoped that they matched.

And then he glanced at Brienne, and he knew that even though she’d said she had only been 98% that she wouldn’t have set them up like this unless she’d been 100% sure. ‘My Grandmother whisked me straight to the doctor as soon as the damage showed up, and insisted on semi-permanent skin grafts until I was 20. Then I refused to get another one until I knew what was happening. I’d just broken up with my first and only boyfriend, but I could never let go of the idea of my soulmate. When I saw you were getting it fixed...I can’t tell you how happy I was.’ There were tears shinning in her brown eyes, and in Pod’s too, and Jaime clutched his cup tighter in his grasp seized by a fear he would drop it and break the moment between the pair.

‘Where are my manners?’ Pod said. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’ Margaery nodded, and they moved off to the counter, without even a backwards glance towards Jaime and Brienne. They ordered drinks, and then the moment came. Pod reached over to pay, and Margaery grabbed his arm, pushing his sleeve up like she just couldn’t bear it anymore.

The squeal she let out, and that she threw her arms around his neck, a grin on her face told Jaime all he needed to know. He turned away, giving the newly found soulmates their privacy, to catch Brienne doing the same, a tiny grin on her face.

‘Was it everything you expected?’ she asked.

‘It was worth coming here,’ Jaime said, and he leaned back in his chair. Maybe there was something to be said for this soulmark business after all. Although...somehow he still couldn’t bring himself to care all that deeply about his. Not with Brienne sitting opposite him. Was it worth looking for someone just because a mark on his arm had decided they should be together? Would it be worth it? To find the kind of happiness Margery and Pod were experiencing right now?

He let his mind unspool the questions he fought in early mornings or late nights, before replaying the conversation Margaery and Pod had had. ‘I’m curious, though,’ he said, as certain phrases stuck out in his mind. ‘This is the first time they’ve met, right?’

‘Yes,’ said Brienne.

‘Then why was he apologizing for hurting her?’ Jaime asked, his words coming slower as a theory starting to unfold in his mind. But it couldn’t be right...because if it was right...

‘I did wonder if you knew,’ Brienne said quietly. ‘Jaime, I’m not sure this is the place, or that I’m the person.’

‘If you don’t tell me,’ Jaime said, his heartbeat increasing because Brienne was refusing to tell him something about soulmarks and that was only adding weight to his theory because why was she suddenly holding back, ‘I’ll just google it, and you’ll have to explain it to me anyway. And don’t give me any of that ‘just because it affects 2 million soulmarks doesn’t mean there aren’t 200 cases out there that this rule doesn’t apply to. Tell me. Please.’ He didn't mention to her that he wouldn't be able to google it until later since he still wasn't carrying his phone around with him - but he guessed by the look on Brienne's face that she wasn't thinking about that flaw in his plan right now. She was steadying herself for something.

Brienne settled her cup onto the table, and then lifted her gaze to meet Jaime’s.

‘Soulmarks have a connection; you know that. You might even have heard stories where Person A loses the limb their soulmark was on. After a few months, or years, the soulmark will come back, just on a different body part. And in those cases, almost always the soulmark has faded from Person B’s limb, only to reappear in the same new place as Person A. This can be proved; they’ve had plenty of recorded cases on people who were already with their soulmate, or those who met afterwards, who reported the vanishing and reappearance of their soulmarks.’ She was stalling, Jaime could tell. Whatever she was about to tell him about the connection between soulmarks was something she didn’t want Jaime to hear. ‘But the connection goes even deeper than that. All soulmarks connections are different, and it does vary; there have been cases where someone can draw upon their soulmark and have the pen lines appear on their soulmates skin, although those are rare. I think there have been just three cases recorded.’

‘Brienne,’ Jaime said, because this wasn’t important, and he needed her to hurry up.

‘But for most soulmark connections the facts are the same; when Person A causes damage to their soulmark, Person B’s soulmark will experience the same.’

Jaime shook his head, as though he couldn’t let the words enter. This was...this couldn’t be true.

‘You mean Person B can see what’s happening?’ he asked. ‘Like the damage appears on their soulmark and they can just see that their soulmate is in pain?’

‘No,’ Brienne said, and she gave a great sigh, ‘I mean whatever happens to one soulmark, will happen to the other. If Person A cut themselves from wrist to elbow, passing over a soulmark on their inner arm, Person B will feel and experience the cut when it passes over their soulmark; no more, no less. And since soulmarks only penetrate skin deep, a broken bone won’t be felt by Person B. Just any damages to the actual soulmark.’

‘They feel the pain?’ Jaime repeated. ‘Person B feels the same pain as Person A?’

Brienne nodded, and Jaime couldn’t breathe because this meant...this meant...but no. It couldn’t be. He would have heard about this connection between soulmarks, surely? Someone would have told him. Tyrion would have mentioned it at some point. His brother would know about his for sure, and he’d known about Jaime’s damages; he’d even helped to try and clean them up, occasionally. This had to be another unconventional story from Brienne’s book of lesser known soulmark stories.

‘Jaime you need to breathe,’ Brienne said, and Jaime nodded, but it was a lot easier said than done. All these years. From the moment his soulmark had appeared he’d caused damage to it, scrubbing it red raw.

‘Can they feel everything from the moment the soulmark appears?’ he asked, taking deep lungful's of coffee scented air. There had to be some saving grace. He couldn’t live with this.

‘Yes,’ Brienne said. ‘Usually depending on how deep the damage goes. Some people believe that the deeper in love two people are, the worse the connection is; those couples will feel even superficial cuts to their soulmarks. Some people believe that the more damage caused to one soulmark, the deeper the connection becomes.’ The more Jaime had cut into his arm, the more his soulmate would’ve been able to feel it.

‘Do you think,’ he asked but he didn’t have to finish the sentence, and he was glad for it.

‘Yes, Jaime,’ Brienne said, her voice gentle but firm. ‘I think your soulmate has been able to feel every damage you’ve ever done to yourself. I’m sorry.’ They sat in silence for a little while, Jaime’s head spinning.

This could only mean one thing. He would have to find her. Track her down, and tell her how sorry he was. He understood why Pod had been nervous about today, why he’d wanted Brienne to sit in on this meeting with him; from the sounds of it, Pod had grown up in an abusive household, with someone who had caused damage to his soulmark. Margaery would have been able to feel every cut, and Pod had been worried she wouldn’t be able to forgive him.

Would Jaime’s soulmate? He wondered. It was different if the damages had been caused to you by another person, without your permission. Jaime had done these cuts to himself, practically, never believing that he was hurting anyone else in the process.

‘There is some light,’ Brienne said, and Jaime tipped his head back so he could look at her. She wasn’t looking at him with pity, which he was grateful for. He didn’t think he could handle pity right now; he didn’t deserve it.

‘Oh yeah,’ he asked and gave a hollow chuckle. ‘What would that be?’

‘Skin grafts,’ Brienne said. ‘It’s a medical procedure where skin, usually taken from donors is placed over the soulmark. It covers them completely, and usually it stops the pain.’ Jaime just looked at her. ‘Skin grafts aren’t the be all and end all,’ Brienne admitted and Jaime had known it sounded too good to be true. ‘They don’t last. Depending on how much you pay for them, they tend to last either just under a month, or up to four years. And they don’t block all of the pain, towards the end; occasionally some of the effects can still come through, although you won’t actually be able to see what is happening to your soulmark underneath the skin. And the soulmarks always come back eventually.’

‘And you think my soulmate would have opted for these skin grafts?’ Jaime said. It felt like a way out, but the leaden feeling in his stomach was still there. He needed to track his soulmate down as soon as he left here. There was no choice left to him; he had to make it up to her, even if she had covered herself in skin grafts.

‘The NHS offers them to under 18’s for free,’ Brienne said, ‘so, depending on when you started with the damages, the likihood is that she would have applied for them, and been accepted. It’s the medical procedure with the fastest turnaround time,’ she said. ‘You can call up in the morning and have an appointment booked for the afternoon.’

‘You sound like you know an awful lot about this,’ Jaime said. Brienne pulled a bottle of water from her bag and pushed it across the table, and he drank it down gratefully. Caffeine wasn’t what he needed right now. He felt light headed and sweaty and all the times he’d cut into his soulmark, or had watched Cersei do it crowded his mind. He wondered what his soulmate had been doing at those times; most of them had taken place at night, or in the early morning. Had this woman, nine years younger than Jaime, watched as her soulmark was gouged into again and again with no visible source? Had she watched the blood drip onto the sheets the same way that Jaime had, waiting for it to be over, cursing whoever he was and wishing for nothing more than to never meet the guy who put her through so much pain? Or had she not even felt it for years, because of these skin grafts? Maybe she’d curled up each night in the arms of another guy, feeling the odd twinge in her arm but pushing thoughts of her soulmate to the back of her mind the way that Jaime had always done.

‘I know about soulmarks,’ Brienne said, ‘and I work in the field.’ She said no more, and Jaime wasn’t going to push her.

‘And what happens after you turn eighteen?’ he asked. ‘Does the NHS stop paying for it?’

‘Not if you can prove that you desperately need one,’ Brienne answered. ‘But it’s a lot less quick to get an appointment for over 18’s and you have to get through a lot of red tape.’

‘And how much is it to pay for them?’ Jaime asked, a sick feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t image that grafting skin from bodies was cheap.

‘£278 for a skin graft that lasts a month,’ Brienne said, ‘and around £4,000 for a four year one. Although they like to stress that exact dates cannot be predicted.’

‘I’ve hurt her,’ Jaime said, and now he couldn’t think of anything other than this almost fictional woman who he’d spent so long shoving to the back of his mind. ‘Worse than I think I’ve hurt anyone else in my whole life.’

‘You didn’t know,’ Brienne said, and he knew she was trying to help him, that she’d only ever tried to help him. That she hadn’t wanted to tell him today; that she probably would have suggested the Jaime hear about it in his therapist’s office where a professional could help him work through his emotions about what his actions over the years had caused. He had forced her to tell him; but it didn’t change a damn thing. He was too angry and bitter at himself to think about Brienne right now.

‘That’s not an excuse,’ Jaime snapped. ‘It’s not a hidden secret. It’s not an uncommon thing to happen between soulmarks. So why didn’t I know? Because I didn’t listen.’

‘Jaime, this isn’t your fault,’ Brienne said, but that was a lie and they both knew it.

‘What would you do?’ he snapped. ‘How would you feel about this? If you were her? If someone had spent years hurting you, with no end in sight?’ For 18 years he’d kept the knife next to every bed he had so that Cersei could make her claim on him. ‘Would you want to meet the person who had caused you that pain? Would you want to spend the rest of your life with him?’

‘No,’ Brienne said, and her word was so final and so sure that it gave Jaime pause. She spoke like she knew what he was talking about. ‘No, I wouldn’t.’

‘I have to find her,’ Jaime said, and he slumped in his seat, his head in his hands. He didn’t care about looking polished or good in front of Brienne. Let her see him like this; why would she want to be with him now anyway?

‘Okay,’ Brienne said, ‘but probably not right this second.’ That was true. He couldn’t just walk out the door and hope to walk smack bang into his soulmate. He would have to track her down; hire an agency who specialized in these kind of things. ‘And, not to tell you what to do at all, but maybe we don’t ruin this special day for Margaery and Pod?’ she whispered. Jaime turned around to see the happy couple now holding hands and coming back over to them.

He glanced back at Brienne’s face at her always unwavering gaze and nodded. This was their day, and no matter what he’d learned he wouldn’t ruin someone else’s day. This was his problem; nobody else’s.

‘Brienne, we need to ask you something,’ Margaery said, as she pulled Pod to a stop beside her. Both of their faces were glowing, and Jaime knew it would be at least a week before their smiles faded.

‘Okay,’ Brienne said, but she sounded confused.

‘Is there any reason you can think of why we wouldn’t work? I know it’s rare, but it has happened to people we know, and we just want to be prepared. You’re the only one here who knows both of us well enough to answer, and we trust you. And we don’t mean like Pod leaves his socks on the floor each evening, or that I sometimes get a little too involved in people’s lives. I mean, if there is anything about either one of us that you think would lead to heartache for the other further down the road. Please tell us now.’

‘I can honestly say that if I had the slightest cause of concern, I wouldn’t have set this up,’ Brienne said. Margaery gave another squeal to rival her one earlier and turned to Pod to throw her arms around his neck.

‘We can do it then! Oh, wait till I tell Grandmother, she’ll be so excited.’ Tarth’s had emptied out a little bit more now, and in fact their little group were the only members still inside. Davos was on his phone again, but there was no one else to be seen behind the counter.

‘Do what?’ Brienne asked, and Margery thrust her left hand out, showing Brienne the silver ring that glinted from her third finger.

‘We’re getting married!’

‘Oh,’ Brienne said, and even Jaime’s whirring thoughts stopped for a second. He knew that some people got engaged the moment they met their soulmate, and he supposed Margaery fit the type. ‘That quickly?’

‘Well, not right this second,’ Margaery said and she gave her twinkly laugh again. Pod didn’t seem to be able to stop looking at her, his eyes drinking in all that she was. Jaime had to admit Pod had landed the jackpot. Margaery didn’t seem concerned at all that her soulmate was a seven to her ten, or that (Jaime suspected) he wasn’t rich enough to keep her in the lifestyle she was accustomed to.

Not that she needed him to keep her in anything, Jaime thought. Margaery was probably from the school of women who would quite happily pay for themselves for the rest of their lives and think nothing of it. And the Tyrell family had plenty to go round. ‘No, Grandmother will need at least a year to plan the wedding, but there’s no point hanging around is there, not now that we’ve finally found each other!’

‘I saw the ring on my way back into London today,’ Pod said. ‘And I couldn’t not buy it. Something just called me to it.’

‘I love it,’ Margaery said, and she glanced down at her fingers before giving herself an excited squeeze.

‘While I’m sure you do love it,’ Jaime said, and even he was surprised to hear himself speaking, ‘might I offer you the chance to gain another engagement ring? As the one who did set in motion the two of you meeting, I feel obliged to gift you something on this happy day.’ He knew that offering two relative strangers an expensive gift didn’t make up for years of hurting his soulmate; but it would make him feel a little better, and it was all he could do right now.

‘Oh you don’t have to do that,’ Margaery said, and Pod was nodding behind her.

‘But I want to,’ Jaime said. He fished in his wallet for a card, and handed the crimson paper over, watching as Margaery and Pod’s eyes widened as they read his details.

‘Jaime Lannister, as in Lannisters?’ Pod asked, and Jaime nodded. Margaery didn’t say anything at all, and Jaime wondered if she’d spoken to her Grandmother about the man who’d hit on her last week, and they’d figured out who he was.

‘Yes,’ Jaime said. ‘And I’d be delighted to gift you a Casterly Rock as your engagement ring.’

‘Those rings cost millions,’ Pod said. ‘We can’t accept that.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about it,’ Jaime said. ‘And please, let me do this for you. I understand that your current ring is special, and I wouldn’t want to force you to change it.’ He left the sentence there, because saying anything else would be him trying to force it.

‘Well...’ Pod looked down at Margaery. ‘I suppose if you want one, it’s up to you.’

‘Oh, but the ring you got me is so pretty,’ Margaery said, but she couldn’t hide the longing in her voice. A Casterly was the thing dreams were made of and here she was being offered one for free. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

‘We’ll get you a chain and you can wear it around your neck,’ Pod said, and Margery leapt on him and kissed him so long and hard that Jaime had to look away. ‘I just want to do what makes you happy.’

Getting the Casterly wouldn’t be an issue; they only sold about 20 or 30 of them a year, and every six months or so 2 or 3 were placed in a vault underneath the shop. There were rings that had been used in adverts, or for press pieces that couldn’t be sold, or to be auctioned off, or just for a general feel good donation. But since nobody in Jaime’s family was ever in a situation where a feel-good donation was called for, the rings had been stacking up in the vault and there were now twelve of them, sitting in the dark, just waiting for their time.

Jaime couldn’t think of a better cause.

‘That’s very generous of you Jaime,’ Brienne said, as she packed up her bag. The soulmates, Jaime could tell would be spending the rest of the day getting to know each other. Brienne’s work here was done. And she probably had plans already.

‘Well I wanted to do something nice for them,’ Jaime said, shrugging and also standing. He had things to be getting on with as well. He’d stop on the way home for a nice bottle of something that would get him good and drunk and spend the rest of the day googling agencies who tracked down soulmates. He would hire all of them if he had to. He needed to make things right.

Brienne nodded, but didn’t say anything as she said her goodbyes to Margaery and Pod, hugging them each in turn. It was one of the many things that Jaime admired about Brienne; her ability to know when to say nothing.

But it didn’t matter what he admired about her. Not anymore. Because he had to find his soulmate, and as Margaery and Pod had just proved, there was very little point in fighting who the universe had deemed you should be with.

No matter how much you wanted to.

Chapter Text

On Sunday morning, Jaime found himself pulling up to the road opposite Tarth’s at 8am. He hadn’t been able to sleep the previous evening, tossing and turning for most of the night. As soon as he’d got back to his house yesterday, he’d set about contacting the three most well-known soulmate tracker agencies in the UK and Europe. He’d also made a couple of notes of agencies in other countries, just in case he needed them later. Even he, with his limited soulmate knowledge knew soulmates were rarely born and raised in the same city. And London was small. It was unlikely his soulmate would be based here too.

He’d read good things about the agencies he’d sent e-mails off to last night, in the couple of hours research he’d given to them. He wasn’t interested in doing the same diligence he’d done with Catelyn Stark – he needed somebody who could track down his soulmate. And fast. Blackwater, Littlefinger, and Spider Inc all had hundreds of five-star reviews, their pages flooded with happy couples showing their matching soulmarks off to the camera. All of the companies charged an alarming amount of money for their services, but if they could make good on their promise and deliver Jaime’s soulmate quickly, he would happily pay double. They’d all got back to him last night agreeing to take his case on, and asking no other questions. They’d wanted to see a photo of his soulmark, but the only image Jaime had of the sword on his arm was the picture Renly had done. His arm was still a scattered mess of scar marks, and faded lines, although it was vastly different from what had been there two months ago.

It was why he was here this morning; to meet Renly, who according to the phone call with Jaime last night, had a fantastic memory and would be delighted to redraw Jaime’s soulmark from his memories so that Jaime could send the picture off. Jaime had also neglected to tell the agencies about the sun and moon at the top corner of his soulmark, but told all of them to put him in touch with anyone who had a red and blue sword with a lion headed pommel on their left forearm. Jaime had spent his life believing it was a unique enough design that finding his soulmate – if it ever came to that – would be easy, because he wouldn’t have to stare at slightly similar soulmarks.

He didn’t believe that anymore.

Jaime checked his watch, then leaned back in his car seat, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Renly wasn’t meeting him until 10am, two hours from now, but Jaime hadn’t been able to sit still in his flat any longer. Tarth’s didn’t even open until 9am, so Jaime really had no idea what he was doing here, but his options were limited. He didn’t feel much like going for a run and trying to sort through his whirring emotions and thoughts like people always seemed to do in books and films. He liked to work out at a gym, running on a treadmill where everyone else was too focused on themselves to pay him any attention. Tyrion was still in another country, so he was out for the time being, and there was no way Jaime was letting anyone at work in on his problems.

No. There was only one person Jaime really wanted to talk this all through with, but since he couldn’t talk to the woman he had feelings for about trying to track down his soulmate, he’d come to her namesakes instead.

He’d watched another of her recommend films last night. This one had featured the same blonde haired actress from Slaver’s Bay, except this time she was involved in a love triangle. One of her father’s friends had become her personal assistant and grown to love her. Although soulmarks had appeared on both of them, they’d looked strange, with score marks running though the small bears on their shoulder blades, like a TV where the signal had given out. This, Jaime came to understand from the film meant that the love was unrequited; that although the male character had loved the blonde women, she did not, and would never return his feelings. (Jaime had made a mental note to ask Brienne whether an unrequited soulmark could ever turn into a true one. He’d had a small nightmare last night in one of his brief periods of sleep that him and Brienne developed unrequited soulmarks, due to his growing feelings for her and he’d woken in a cold sweat.) The film had featured a dashing business rival for the woman, and had ended with them receiving matching soulmarks and her PA ‘letting her go’ to be with the man she loved. Jaime had found the whole thing badly written, and a little sleezy (the characters were only supposed to have had fifteen years between them, but when Jaime had looked it up the blonde actress and the man playing her PA had an actual age gap of 26 years.) He supposed he had gained a better understanding of soulmarks through it, which was the point.

‘Morning!’ said a loud voice outside Jaime’s window, with a thump of the top of the car, and Jaime jumped out of his skin. The large bulk of Selwyn Tarth was leaning down and grinning at Jaime. ‘Jaime isn’t it?’ Selwyn said. He stepped back as Jaime got out of the car and stretched. A strong sun was rising, and burning off the early morning breeze. The slight chill in the air didn’t seem to bother Selwyn who was wearing a faded white tank top, baggy striped PJ trousers and a pair of flip flops. ‘Excuse the morning gear,’ Selwyn said, gesturing down at himself, ‘but I’d just come to switch the coffee machines on. They need around an hour to warm up, and I always like to taste the first cup in the mornings, make sure whoever was on last night cleaned them as they should. Had a bit of an issue once, a few years back.’ Selwyn shook his head, and crossed over the road. Since he didn’t seem to have finished talking, Jaime followed him, watching as he unlocked the front door to Tarth’s and led them both through the empty building. ‘I live in the flat upstairs, so it’s just easier to come down first thing, set them up, go back up and change and then come down to open up,’ Selwyn said. ‘Please, sit down. Coffee?’ Selwyn flicked the light switch on the wall behind the counter, and the humming from the ceiling started up, turning what had been shadowy figures into solid objects. Jaime took one of the two seats at the counter, looking at the empty cakes stands and the piles of clean coffee cups. He noticed that Brienne’s usual blue and white stripey mug was sitting in its own little alcove just behind a gleaming kettle. Dust motes floated through the air, as Selwyn dashed around performing his morning routine. ‘Do you want a coffee?’ Selwyn asked again. ‘It’ll have to be instant I'm afraid. But I can still add the edible glitter if you want?’ There was a gleam in his eye as he turned to face Jaime.

Jaime jumped, scared that Selwyn had caught him staring at the soulmarks that marked the back of his neck, his shoulder blade, the back of his arm. Jaime knew about people with more than one soulmark, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever met one. The soulmarks on Selwyn were all faded, and Jaime had noticed that a few of them seemed unfinished; an odd line missing here, a detail there. For the first few seconds Jaime had wondered if they were tattoos, but he’d decided against it. Even now, with them faded, there was a slight gleam to them when they caught the light that told Jaime they’d once been soulmarks.

‘The coffee would be great,’ Jaime said, feeling his night catching up with him already. ‘I’ll leave the edible glitter.’

A few minutes later a steaming cup of coffee arrived in front of Jaime, Selwyn sipping from his own mug.

‘What brings you here so early?’ Selwyn asked. ‘We usually only get early office workers in on a Sunday morning. Not that your company isn’t appreciated,’ Selwyn said, and Jaime was struck by the difference between father and daughter. He was sure Brienne didn’t mind them hanging out now, but that his company wasn’t appreciated in the beginning was something he was sure of. ‘Something on your mind?’

‘You could say that,’ Jaime said. The coffee was making him feel better. He’d left the house after hours of trying to distract himself from his thoughts, and because he thought that if he spent another hour there, he’d actually go mad. He could have driven around for a bit, but he was conscious of being tired.

‘I hope you don’t mind me prodding,’ Selwyn said, ‘but I saw Brienne last night. She seemed a little distracted and Davos mentioned that you were both in here yesterday. I hope everything is sorted?’ Selwyn’s tone was casual but the interest was badly concealed behind his eyes. Jaime thought about what it must look like to him; his daughter, turning up with a man, and giving very little details about how they’d met. It was only natural, Jaime supposed.

‘Brienne has been a real help to me,’ Jaime said. He traced a line in the few drops of coffee that had spilled on the counter, wondering if he should tell Selwyn how he and Brienne had met. It wasn’t like he was still ashamed about going to Dr Stark to have his soulmark sorted; he didn’t even think about people watching him from windows as he entered the offices any more. But he still wasn’t sure that he was ready to just come out and tell people what he was doing.

But Selwyn was smart. ‘I’ve had some trouble with my soulmark, since it appeared. And, as it turns out, according to my therapist, I’ve ignored every lesson about soulmarks that may have come my way over the years.’ Jaime had been lucky, yesterday; when he’d called his therapists’ office; he’d caught his therapist there, in the middle of collecting something. Jaime had rambled his new found findings, wondering how he could be such an idiot and miss something this big that had not only affected his life, but someone else’s. His therapist’s suggestion had been that Jaime had subconsciously blocked out any mention of soulmarks ever since his had appeared so that he didn’t take in anything that might affect the way he treated his own, or in case he heard something he might not like. ‘Your daughter has been educating me on the many different cases and stories that surround soulmarks. Yesterday I learned about...certain connections that soulmarks share. Connections that I had no idea about.’ Jaime sipped his coffee, still brooding on that conversation from yesterday and all he’d learned.

‘You a client?’ Selwyn asked. There was no pity in his voice, no gentleness. He didn’t even wait for an answer. ‘Brienne’s made friends that way before. It’s good for her. She’s got her sailing buddies, but those are scattered all over, and I know she still keeps in touch with a few friends from her school days, but I do worry about her. Her and Catelyn get on well, and she’s been out a few times with Catelyn’s daughter, but I know she spends most of her evenings alone.’ Selwyn took a long sip from his drink, his blue eyes focused on something not actually in front of him. ‘And...well, you need to promise me you won’t say anything to her. She’s a private person my daughter. I don’t blame her, after what she’s been through.’ Selwyn gave a long sigh, and Jaime wondered not for the first time about Brienne’s history and whether he’d ever find out what had happened. ‘My eldest is like that too...Gal... he’s off on his travels, he’s a photographer, taking pictures of animals in their native lands. He’s a good boy, but he doesn’t check in as often as I’d like. Anyway,’ Selwyn said, looking back at Jaime, ‘none of this gets repeated back to Brienne.’

Jaime nodded, knowing that this was the reason Selwyn had let him into Tarth’s early today. Had Selwyn needed to come down to turn on machines that seemed pretty hi-tech to Jaime, or had he spotted Jaime from his upstairs window?

‘I promise,’ Jaime said, ignoring the warning in his head. His loyalty should be to Brienne. He shouldn’t be talking about her behind her back, even if it was with her father, and for what Jaime hoped was a good reason. But his curiosity was too much. If Brienne herself wasn’t going to give him any answers, he wasn’t a good enough person to not ask the questions to other people.

‘Has she seemed a little off to you? When you saw her yesterday?’ Selwyn asked. ‘Catelyn called me the other day. We only really know each other to say hello to, when she comes in for a coffee and her lunch, so her calling me was out of the blue. I knew it couldn’t be that something had happened to Brienne, because this was early evening, and she wouldn’t have been at the office.’ Selwyn took a deep breath. ‘Catelyn said she caught Brienne drawing.’

Jaime who had been expecting a bigger revelation, sat back on his stool, disappointed.

‘Oh yes,’ Jaime said. ‘We came out of my appointment and Brienne was so caught up in her drawing that she didn’t even notice we’d come out. Why?’ he asked. ‘She used to draw all the time didn’t she? Maybe she missed it.’

‘No,’ Selwyn said, shaking his head, but there was now a flat dull look in his eyes as Jaime confirmed what Catelyn had called to tell him about on Thursday night. ‘Brienne did all the decoration here for me because I asked her to, and because I couldn’t let anyone else do it, not with her talent in the family. But she hasn’t drawn since she left Renly’s.’

‘Oh,’ Jaime said, sensing his best bet now was to keep quiet and let Selwyn talk.

‘Brienne...she used to have to deal with a lot of pain,’ Selwyn said, and Jaime’s mind went to several places, but he knew it was no use. Selwyn might be willing to provide him some details about his daughter, but he wasn’t about to spill all her life secrets to a guy Selwyn had only really met once. ‘And to keep her mind off the pain, she learned how to draw. That’s why she got so good at it. She’d always be hunched over a desk, pouring herself into her drawings so that she didn’t have to think about the pain. I didn’t realise at first,’ Selwyn said, and there was pain in his face now. ‘But when I did...well, she’d found a way to control the pain. She’d been dealing with it on her own for years, I couldn’t very well come in and tell her how I thought she should deal with it. Then she announced she was leaving Renly’s. I asked her about...well, how she was going to cope, and she told me she didn’t need to anymore. The pain was over.’ A bad relationship, Jaime thought. It had to be. ‘But now she’s back drawing again. Getting so lost in her own work that she can’t think about anything else. Margaery told me Brienne has offered to paint her soulmark for her, as an engagement present.’ Selwyn was distressed now. ‘I want to talk to her about it, but...well, I didn’t notice the first-time round. Brienne is a grown woman. I don’t want to seem interfering.’

‘You’re worried about her,’ Jaime said, and he tried to think back. Brienne hadn’t seemed that distant on Saturday. If anything, she’d been concerned about Jaime and his new found pain. ‘It’s understandable. But, in truth, I’m probably the wrong person to be asking. Like you said, Brienne isn’t that open about her life. Some of the time, I’m not even sure she likes me. Probably just keeps me around so as not to offend me since we’d still have to see each other every week.’

Selwyn gave a small chuckle at that, but he looked a little happier. Brienne’s pain wasn’t obviously so bad that she’d cut herself off completely. And Jaime knew what to be watching for now.

‘Trust me, if my daughter didn’t like you, she wouldn’t be hanging around with you no matter the circumstances. Brienne’s great at her job, but she’s also not one to suffer fools gladly.’

The day wore on after that, and Jaime moved himself to one of the plush chairs with a fresh coffee once the waitress, Asha had arrived for the day. She was a small woman, with an inky pixie cut. Her jumper, like her brother’s had holes in, and when Jaime first saw her, she looked like someone you wouldn’t want to cross with her purple lipstick and a mouth that seemed to twist downwards. But as soon as she noticed Jaime, her lips split exposing white teeth, and a devious smile. He wondered what would have happened if Asha had been the one on duty last Thursday, when he’d come to pick up a woman, but judging from the looks Asha spent the morning giving him, Jaime could only imagine what would have happened. His advances wouldn’t have been rebuffed.

At 10am, Renly slid into the seat opposite Jaime, a folded piece of paper in his hand which he handed over.

‘I hope it’s good enough,’ Renly said. Jaime had explained to him on the phone last night what he wanted the picture for. ‘My memory is pretty good once I’ve drawn something once.’

‘It’ll be fine,’ Jaime said, taking a photo of the page, and quickly firing off the texts to the agencies. He wasn’t the praying type, but there was something in his mind as the texts whooshed through the phone lines, something like hope or begging. ‘It’s just a guide for them.’ Since Renly seemed in no hurry to leave, Jaime offered to buy him a coffee, and an awkward silence prickled between the two men once Jaime had returned. Jaime’s thoughts were swirling between Brienne and why she was in pain once more – had a former boyfriend reappeared on the scene and how could Jaime possibly try and find out? - and trying to find his soulmate and how he could possibly make it up to her after so many years of hurt. Would she want anything to do with Jaime? He supposed he owed her an explanation, but he also hated the idea of even attempting to have that conversation. He sipped his third coffee of the morning, promising to stop after this one. It would probably be a good idea to go home and get some sleep, but he was so wired now he knew that would never happen. His best bet would be to go to the office and inject this energy into something useful, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to concentrate on his work either.

‘She told you, didn’t she?’ Renly said, suddenly. He was wearing a pair of artfully ripped jeans and a shirt under a brightly coloured jumper today, off setting his tanned skin and gleaming black hair. Jaime had noticed more than a few of the customer’s constantly glancing at their table. He had tried not to notice, but his ego wouldn’t let him dismiss the looks completely. The one thing Jaime had always had going for him was his looks, but now he was nearing forty, he was worrying about those leaving him. Sitting across from a man who had to be at least ten years younger, who looked the very spit of health, Jaime’s old fears and insecurities reared their head.

‘What?’ Jaime asked. His mind went scrambling back to his conversation with Brienne. ‘Oh. Yes. Yes, she did.’ Renly’s soulmark had been the lead in about hidden soulmarks, he remembered. His mind had been so occupied this week he hadn’t had much time to focus on the leeching away soulmark inside him that belonged to Cersei, which was a sobering thought. He thought he’d be consumed with that.

‘I knew it,’ Renly said. He slumped a little in his chair. ‘I don’t feel good about it, you know. And Catelyn was right. I should have done more...but I don’t know. In the moment, when it’s happening, it doesn’t seem so bad, you know? It’s all fun and games, and Brienne was so good about it that I didn’t really feel like it was a big deal.’

‘Right,’ Jaime said slowly. This wasn’t a conversation about a soulmark.

‘And it wasn’t like I knew about it,’ Renly said, and Jaime nodded along like he had any idea what he was speaking about, ‘not until Brienne did. The client, Tarly, he called me up the day after he told Brienne, and moaned about it. I asked why he hadn’t complained to me, but he was the type of guy to shoot the people in the room with him, not the one pulling the strings.’ Jaime was well aware of those types of people. ‘I’ve never forgotten what happened after Randyll had told me. I walked out of my office into the room all my staff share, and I just went and looked at Brienne, and she gave this really long sigh as I walked towards her, and asked me if I knew. And I said yes, and she said then she didn’t have to make up some excuse, and handed me her notice. I tried to get her to stay, but...well, in all truthfulness I probably didn’t try as hard as I should have.’ The café was getting busier, the sound of waves that the door made every time it was opened echoing every few seconds or so as people came into the building or caught someone in the doorway who was just leaving. But Jaime was concentrating hard on what Renly was saying, trying to control his breathing, and stopping his hand from clenching around his mug. ‘I knew either she would have to go, or else the others who had been involved in it would have to, and there were, what, five or seven of them. I couldn’t have seven of them leave, I wouldn’t have been able to cope.’ Renly took another sip of his drink. ‘I did let Hyle go though.’ Hyle. Jaime’s mind seized on this name he’d only heard once before. The painter who’d wanted to do the bathroom as an underwater battle scene. The one Brienne hadn’t wanted anywhere near her father’s café. ‘I mean I don’t think he was the ringleader, I don’t think any of them were to be honest. A bit of banter one evening in the pub, that’s what they told me when I called them in to ask them about it. A stupid idea. Some of them had given up after a few days, not thinking Brienne was really worth the prize, but Hyle had gone all out. I hadn’t noticed how much attention he’d been paying Brienne. Maybe I should have.’ The idea that someone paying attention to Brienne would be so unusual as to be worth noticing sat badly with Jaime, and he flexed his hand on his cup. But no. He couldn’t hit every person he met who said something he didn’t like.

Plus, if he hit Renly now he’d never find out what had actually happened. Even if he did have a sneaking idea. An idea so repellent and repulsive that Jaime was considering getting up and walking out because he wasn’t sure he actually wanted his suspicions confirmed. ‘Randyll had heard them talking about it, you see. He’d hired us to paint a giant mural of his soulmark on the side of his house, because it was also his company logo and he wanted everyone to know it was the right place to come, but he felt like they were spending too much time talking about the bet and not getting on with their work.’

‘And let me guess,’ Jaime said before Renly could continue, because the words ‘the bet’ had registered. Catelyn’s lukewarm attitude to a person she’d previously liked, Brienne jumping ship from a job she’d studied for to a PA made sense, as did her refusal to let the guy who’d taken ‘the bet’ seriously paint Tarth’s. ‘You were harsher on your staff about their work than you were about them using one of your friends like that?’ Even though Renly hadn’t told Jaime what the bet entailed, Jaime bet he could guess. A drunken pot pulled together one evening in the pub.

‘I...well. Now you mention it,’ Renly said, and he gave a little shame faced grin. Jaime didn’t know if Renly had been assuming that Jaime would think the whole thing was funny too, or if he really thought he could defend himself enough that Jaime would be on his side, but as Renly studied Jaime’s face, it was obvious that neither of those things would happen.

‘Thank you for this,’ Jaime said, waving the picture of his soulmark in the air before slipping it into his pocket.

‘Jaime, come on, don’t be like that,’ Renly said, and maybe it was the shock of someone who’d only met him twice calling him Jaime like it was the most natural thing in the world when he’d literally had to bribe Brienne to stop calling him Mr Lannister, helped along by the sleepless night and the coffee, but Jaime had had enough.

‘I’ve treated employees better than you treated her,’ Jaime said quietly, his mind on Pia. It had never even occurred to him to hear the other guy’s side of the story. As far as Jaime had been concerned there was only one side; Pia’s. ‘I’ve treated employees I don’t like better than you treated her. I can’t believe she still even talks to you.’ Jaime couldn’t believe that Brienne flushed when she was in Renly’s presence. How could she still have feelings for a guy who’d been nicer to the guys who worked for him than his friend?

‘Brienne forgave me,’ Renly said, and his hand scratched at his chest. Jaime’s gaze focused as thoughts came creeping out of their hiding places to crowd together. ‘She resigned before I even had a chance to speak to her about it. She already had the job with Catelyn lined up! I knew that nothing I said was going to change her mind.’

‘It’s you,’ Jaime said. His brain felt like it had short circuited. ‘You and Brienne have matching soulmarks.’ Renly’s hand stilled where he was still scratching on his chest, right over where Jaime knew the same knight that was on Brienne’s body was.

‘Technically,’ Renly said.

None of this made sense. Renly and Brienne had matching soulmarks...but Renly was gay? Brienne had told Jaime that. And then the film from last night came back to Jaime, with the lined soulmarks and how that was the way to tell it was unrequited love. ‘I think Brienne’s actual soulmark is on her foot,’ Renly said. ‘It’s a bridge or something, I believe. But she doesn’t let anyone see it and she never talks about it. I know I handled the whole situation badly,’ Renly continued, like Jaime’s world hadn’t just stopped for a second.

‘For someone who you could potentially be with, yeah,’ Jaime said. Renly frowned at him. ‘That’s what Brienne told me. That soulmarks show up when the potential for them to work is there.’ But maybe that wasn’t how it worked with unrequited.

‘You and her have gotten close?’ Renly said, and he was staring at Jaime with frank curiosity. Jaime imagined that Renly’s expression was mirrored back at him, because now Jaime couldn’t stop staring at the younger man. What did Renly have that was so great? Why would Brienne want to be with him? He knew that soulmarks didn’t appear just because you fancied a person, but rather because their presence in your life left an unseen mark on you. A deeper connection was forged between the two of you. That’s why people who had more than one soulmark were rare. To feel that deeply for more than one person, Jaime couldn’t imagine. The idea of loving someone the amount he’d loved Cersei made him feel clammy and panicky. He couldn’t give that much of himself away again, just to watch it dissolve into nothing.

‘I’ve lived a very sheltered soulmark story life,’ Jaime said, because he had to say something. The knight – it was the logo of Renly’s company. He’d seen it on the invoices that Brienne had handed him after his first official appointment, stamped in the bottom corner. He hadn’t bothered to look too closely at the papers, just shoved them in his bedside drawer once he got home. ‘Brienne is helping to correct that.’ Jaime felt a slight bitterness at the back of his throat as he remembered that it had been his appointment with Renly where Brienne had spoken about her belief that soulmarks were magic and not science. ‘How did it happen?’ Jaime asked. His coffee lay on the table in front of him cooling rapidly, but he didn’t care anymore.

‘The soulmarks?’ Renly asked, and Jaime nodded. He didn’t know why he cared so much – well, okay he did. But it was ridiculous. He’d had an 18-year affair with his own twin sister, he shouldn’t feel like this just because he’d learned that Brienne had loved someone else once too.

Shit.

Not that he loved Brienne. Of course not. That was laughable. He hadn’t even known the woman three months and he was still getting over Cersei and he had an unknown soulmate out there somewhere who he was now in the process of finding. But finding out about Brienne and Renly – it hurt. Even though Jaime knew that there was nothing between them except some unrequited feelings, it hurt. That Brienne could love Renly, but not Jaime. He hated admitting this to himself, but he was now checking his own body every evening, in the hope that a soulmark had sprung from nowhere, in the same way he’d once devoured Cersei’s. Because then at least he’d know – at least then there would be potential.

‘We were 15? 16?’ Renly said. He scrubbed a hand over his face as though remembering that far back was difficult for him, even though Jaime guessed he could only be mid-twenties. ‘Selwyn was dating some woman that knew my family. There was a party.’ Asha was laughing behind the counter at something, and Jaime couldn’t help but glance towards the door. He was terrified that Brienne herself would come walking in and catch him talking about her. He knew their friendly little chats would be over for good then. ‘Brienne stood right in the corner for the whole evening. She looked so unhappy. Her dad’s girlfriend had forced her into some horrible dress and slathered her in make-up. All the other boys...they were all laughing at her. I think she knew. Her arms were folded so tightly over her chest I thought she was going to constrict her breathing.’ Renly gave a small laugh, but there was no humour in it. ‘I felt bad for her. She hadn’t asked to come, and she hadn’t asked to wear that dress and...well, you’ve seen her eyes. They were staring at all the boys who were talking about her, almost pinning them to the wall, even from across the room. It was something to see. Even back then she had no idea the...power she gave off.’ It was true, Jaime thought. Brienne gave off power. Maybe it was her size, or her muscles, or just the fact that she held her head up high, even though she knew she was the most interesting thing in most rooms. It was a power she had, even though Jaime knew she’d balk at the idea of that. She wasn’t in charge, and she didn’t need to have the last word, but there was power in the solidness of her. Jaime had seen it; he had felt it, those eyes staring at him from across the desk, the weight of them calming him down when nothing else would. ‘I was cocky, if you can believe it,’ Renly said, and Jaime had to give a grudging smile. ‘But, I guess I also felt a little sorry for her. None of the other girls were approaching her either. I suppose I had a bit of a Prince Charming complex. I wanted to the be the knight in shinning amour who rode up and saved the princess.’ He tapped the place on his chest where the knight soulmark was, and Jaime wondered how long it had been since he’d thought about that party. ‘I asked her for a dance. She glared at me and I thought she was going to tell me to piss off, but her Dad saw us and I guess she couldn’t say no, not with him watching. So we danced. For quite a few songs, actually. She was quiet at first, but I got her to open up. She was funny. And clever. Really clever. And she mentioned that she liked to draw, and so did I, and we spent the rest of the evening talking. And when her dad came to collect her...well. The soulmark appeared on her chest, and even though I couldn’t feel it, I kinda knew there was one on mine as well. I didn’t have the best reaction,’ Renly said, as though Jaime wouldn’t have been able to guess. ‘I think I left without actually saying goodbye, and I never told anybody about it. It’s not really a part of me that’s on show unless I’m on a beach. I’m not really a tank top kind of guy. We saw each other a few times over the years, but she never mentioned it either. Then I offered her a job, and we grew to know each other a little better. We became friends, but we don’t ever talk about the soulmark.’

‘It must be nice,’ Jaime said, with just a hint of bitterness in his voice. ‘To know that Brienne loves you. I suppose that’s why she still...’ but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Renly that Brienne still got flushed around him. ‘Why she forgave you.’

‘I don’t think she still loves me,’ Renly said, and he sounded shocked by the idea. ‘I don’t even know if she ever did. I think...I think I was nice to her on a shitty evening, and that, maybe if I wasn’t gay...maybe we could have been something. I’ve never thought of it like that before.’ He scratched at his calf this time, where Jaime knew his actual soulmark was, the one that had appeared the moment he came out to his family. He hadn’t heard Renly talk about a partner, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t found his soulmate.

‘How come you made it your logo?’ Jaime asked.

‘I was late for the design meeting,’ Renly explained, ‘and had about ten minutes to think of an image. The knight just came to me, and I thought it was good. It was only later when I changed that I realised, but by then it was too late to do anything about it.’ There were more questions Jaime wanted to ask him; was he sure that Brienne didn’t still love him, how could he ever have treated Brienne like he had, and did he think that if Jaime asked Brienne out she’d say yes – but they were interrupted by a familiar voice.

‘I am so glad you’re both here,’ Margaery Tyrell said as she sat at the empty seat at their table. There was a glow about her, Jaime had to admit. She seemed to float though the air now, as though something other than gravity was holding her aloft. She was back in her dungarees today, although there were several more paint splotches on them than there had been on Thursday. ‘I want to invite you both to my engagement party.’ Margaery grinned at them, looking like a snapshot from a magazine, and both of the men blinked at her. It took a second for Jaime to recall that Brienne had said Margaery and Renly had dated briefly, a few years ago while Margaery was wearing skin grafts and Renly was still in the closet. ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that,’ she said now, pulling two golden invitations from her bag. ‘Nobody will care that you’re my ex-boyfriend, and you’re the guy who once tried to hit on me.’ She handed each of them the heavy pages, and Jaime looked down at the envelope so he could ignore Renly’s spluttered surprise. He really hoped that wasn’t how she was going around talking about him to people. ‘Now, I know it’s two months away, but we need to make sure everyone can come. Don’t forget to RSVP, Grandmother hates it when people don’t.’

‘I saw the good news on Instagram,’ Renly said, turning his own invitation over. ‘Some guy called Pod isn't it?’

‘Yes, and he’s just the sweetest thing,’ Margaery said. ‘He’s already said that he doesn’t mind what I want to do for the wedding, and that since Grandmother is paying for it, I should have whatever I feel like and he’ll go along with it. I can’t wait!’

‘And you’re sure he’s genuine, are you?’ Renly asked. ‘I just want to make sure you’re not getting led on.’

‘He’s my soulmate,’ Margaery said as if that was an answer for any problems that might possibly arise. A few months ago, Jaime probably would have said that it was. ‘And it’s not like we just bumped into each other, and noticed the matching soulmarks. Brienne introduced us to each other, and she gave us the seal of approval. I trust her judgement.’ Jaime was revising his opinion on Brienne’s judgement after finding out that she’d fallen for Renly, a guy who had let her be shoved aside so that he wouldn’t have to fire most of his workforce.

But then, Jaime should know more than anyone that you couldn’t help who you fell for.

He, himself had also seen the post of Margaery’s social media pages. She had quite a lot of followers, because of her family name and her artistic creations. She was building a hype for the mural on the café's bathroom wall, already, posting a little peek at a flower or fish here and there and asking her followers to guess what she was currently working on. She’d uploaded a simple but gorgeous photo of her and Pod with the caption ‘guess who just came walking into my life?’ Then there was the trendy photo of their matching soulmarks, the golden flowers almost seeming to sparkle now that they were together.

Margaery, who’d been explaining the sequence of events that had led to her and Pod meeting, turned to Jaime, a serious expression on her face. ‘You have to promise me that you’ll tell Brienne that she has to come. She can’t miss it.’

‘I’ll mention it to her,’ Jaime said. ‘But I don’t think anyone could make Brienne do anything she doesn’t want to.’

‘Nah, you can,’ Renly said, suddenly. ‘She hates to say no, so if you ask her to do something she might come up with a few good reasons why she can’t, but if you press her, she’ll do it. I uh, used to make her go to some horrible client’s houses when I didn’t want to deal with them – look I'm not proud of it!’ he added. ‘But one of the perks of having your own company is the delegation, and if the client sounded nasty on the phone, I’d send someone else.’ The only bit of solace Jaime took from that was Renly had obviously sent all of his workers on jobs like those; it didn’t seem to be Brienne specific.

‘And you both have to come too,’ Margaery said. ‘Grandmother is really going out. It’s going to be themed around our soulmarks because I’m the only person she’s ever been able to do that for.’ She preened a little when she said that. ‘You know her story, obviously, and my parents never had soulmarks although they did love each other, and Loras – that's my brother,’ she said to Jaime, ‘hasn’t found his soulmate yet. Although, he got his really late, only a few years ago.’

‘I didn’t know Loras was back,’ Renly said.

‘Oh, yes, for about a year now,’ Margaery said. She turned to Jaime again. ‘Loras went to study abroad, but he couldn’t make up his mind what he wanted to study, so he stayed in America for almost six years.’

‘I only met him three times,’ Renly said, almost to himself. ‘Once when we were like eleven, the first time I met you Margaery. Then when he dropped you off for our first date. And when he came back four years ago for a summer.’ He was spinning the invitation on the arm of his chair.

‘He’ll be delighted to see you,’ Margaery said. ‘He was disappointed when we broke up, but he understood. I mean if there’s no soulmark, there’s no soulmark.’ She shrugged, like that was the most basic rule in the world.

‘Remind me what your Grandmother’s soulmark story is,’ Jaime said. He couldn’t remember. Maybe his therapist had been onto something about him mentally blocking all conversations with the word soulmate in them.

‘Well, it’s not funny really, but she met her soulmate – supposed soulmate- at a dinner party hosted by a mutual friend. She saw his soulmark first and she was so excited – and then she saw his face. And she decided right there and then that they weren’t meant to be together, and she left the party and went out and found my Grandfather, who never had a soulmark and couldn’t believe his luck when Grandmother wanted him. I think the other guy went on to become a monk.’

‘Right,’ Jaime said, and then before he could lose his nerve, ‘what about Brienne’s soulmark?’

Margaery gave him what he thought was a knowing smile, but she didn’t answer him. ‘So you’ll both come to the party? I’ll text Grandmother and tell her to put your names down. Oh, and Tyrion is invited, of course.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be delighted,’ Jaime said. ‘Does Brienne have a boyfriend? Her dad mentioned something earlier about someone coming back into her life.’ He kept his eyes down so they wouldn’t see the lie in his words. That hadn’t been what Selwyn had said, but he had to have meant it, didn’t he? What else could have caused her pain.

Jaime could hardly believe he was being so obvious about asking these questions, but he felt like he didn’t have much of a choice. The urge to ask her out was getting stronger with every passing day, and knowing himself as he did, he knew he was likely just to blurt it out one day, probably scaring her shitless. And he needed to know if there was a boyfriend on the scene, or a soulmate who would kick Jaime’s arse just for speaking to Brienne. (Not that he thought Brienne needed a man to kick anyone’s arse. Brienne seemed perfectly capable of doing that herself.)

‘Oh, really?’ Margaery said. ‘She hasn’t mentioned anything to me. But there was that one guy wasn’t there?’ she said, turning to Renly. ‘Big ginger guy. Tormund, that was it. He was a bit scary, actually. Didn’t he get into a pub fight that one time? It was someone’s 21st, wasn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ Renly said, nodding. ‘He accused them of looking at Brienne in the wrong way, and practically marched both of them outside and started throwing punches. It was Brienne who stopped him actually. She held him back, and yelled at him. I think it’s the loudest I’ve ever heard her.’ He took a sip from his drink, then pulled a face, and slid it back onto the table. Jaime hadn’t realised how much time had passed with him and Renly sitting here. He needed to go. He still wasn’t sure where. Running was out, but he could always go for a nice walk in a park or something. (He was going to go home and nap for the first time since he’d been a little kid). ‘Tormund is back on the scene is he? Interesting.’

Was that who Selwyn had meant? A big guy with jealousy and anger issues, who sounded like he could take Jamie down with one swing, even though Jaime liked to think of himself as strong and not easy to beat.

Maybe he should wait a few more weeks before he asked Brienne out. See if he could get any more information out of anyone, or see just how badly she was once again escaping into the world she created whenever she drew.

*

‘If you come back again, I’m going to start charging you rent,’ Asha said as Jaime pushed his way back into Tarth’s later that evening. He smiled at her, but the afternoon nap had left him groggy and with a headache. He wasn’t sure sleep was supposed to do that to a person, but maybe waking up in bright sunlight with a crick in your neck and drool on your pillow meant the sleep hadn’t been as peaceful as one had been hoping for.

‘I forgot my jacket earlier,’ Jaime said. He pointed to the brown leather jacket, which was still slung across the back of the chair he’d been sitting in at 9am. He couldn’t believe it hadn’t been moved all day.

‘Ah, we wondered who’s that was,’ Asha said. She was wiping down the counter, and already had her own jacket slung over her shoulders. There was only fifteen minutes until the shop closed, and Jaime guessed it had been a slow day. ‘It was his!’ she yelled the last part through into the kitchen, and the next minute Selwyn came out, two big slices of cake stuffed into Tupperware boxes.

‘Ah, so it is,’ Selwyn said. He was back in jeans and a shirt this afternoon, his red scarf tied around his neck. ‘Here you go Asha,’ he said, shoving the boxes across the counter at her. ‘You might as well get off. Don’t think we’ll get anyone else today.’

‘Cheers,’ Asha said, and she piled the cake into her arms, gave Jaime one last lingering look and then headed out the door so fast, she was gone before Jaime had even made his way across the room to pick up his coat.

‘Lovely staff you’ve got,’ Jaime said. He glanced around the café, but there was nobody else in the shop and Jaime felt his spirits sag a little. It wasn’t like he expected Brienne to be here all the time, but he had wondered if she might drop in.

‘Ah, she’s alright is Asha,’ Selwyn said. He was taking out the cakes and pastries that hadn’t sold today and wrapping them in greaseproof paper before transferring them to a large clear box beside him. ‘She turns up on time and she knows what she’s doing and she doesn’t care about getting in between a fight, which you think we wouldn’t get a lot of here, but you’d be surprised. And I’m not talking about the kids,’ Selwyn said, giving a laugh. ‘Those nannies like to have their spats here too. We’ve had it all; hair pulling, punches thrown, drinks thrown over each other.’ There was a spark in his eye as he got lost in his memories. ‘But she is very much here only because we pay her and we don’t have too many rules. This job isn’t her life, and I respect that.’

‘She sounds like a marvel,’ Jaime said, folding his jacket over his arms. The start of the day was starting to creep back to him, and he was feeling guilty. He’d let his need for information override his basic decency. That wasn’t a common feeling for him, but his conscious was now prickling as he thought about Brienne realising what he had learned today. He would have to tell her, he couldn’t keep it from her. He had wondered about subtly dropping little hints into the conversation, like she had about his relationship with Cersei, but he didn’t think he was smart enough to pull that off.

He also wasn’t sure he could pull it off without giving off a hint of smugness, like he’d managed to find out all about her when she clearly didn’t want him to. He wasn’t smug, not in the slightest, but he knew what his default setting was when he was uncomfortable.

‘Penny for them,’ Selwyn said. ‘Come on, might as well finish our day as we started it. Here.’ He pulled slice of chocolate cake out of the box and laid it on a plate for Jaime, before taking a piece for himself too. ‘We tend to donate the leftovers to the local old people’s home, but they won’t miss a slice or two.’ Jaime took a seat, putting his jacket over his legs so he wouldn’t forget it this time. He didn’t want to have to make a third visit in less than 72 hours. ‘What’s on your mind?’

To delay the moment when Jaime would have to answer, he took a bite of his cake. He couldn’t tell Selwyn that he couldn’t stop thinking about; Brienne, and her possible love life and if she was back in a dangerous situation and could Jaime do anything to prevent it, because Brienne wasn’t going to talk to him about it; his twin sister who’d he’d learned was engaged to a man known for his cheating; he’d spent 18 years putting his soulmate in pain and knowing nothing about it and now he was actively trying to track her down so he could make amends, but not because he wanted to be with her; he wanted to ask Brienne out but there were so many reasons why he couldn’t although he was starting to think he wasn’t going to listen to any of them; and was Brienne already in a relationship and was it an abusive one and should Jaime say something?

But he couldn’t share any of that with a man he’d met twice who also happened to be his main cause of concern’s father so instead he said the first thing that popped into his head; ‘Actually, I was just thinking about soulmarks.’

‘Oh?’ Selwyn asked.

‘I was thinking about people who end up with more than one soulmark,’ Jaime said, slowly. He wasn’t sure how to navigate these new waters where soulmarks were talked about openly. He knew most people showed them off to the world for hope of meeting their soulmate, but he still found it strange. He’d spent most of his life pretending the things didn’t exist; that they didn’t have any meaning.

‘That I can help you with,’ Selwyn said. ‘Anything else I’d have to point you back to Brienne. I’ve heard her stories, but to be honest, I tend to glaze over. Once you’ve heard one you’ve them all.’

Jaime disagreed with that, but he gave a little nod instead of getting into a debate about soulmarks. He wanted to learn more, not put what he had learned to use.

‘How do they work?’ Jaime asked, pointing his fork at Selwyn, even though he knew most of the soulmarks were on Selwyn’s back.

‘Well, most of them aren’t true soulmarks,’ Selwyn said. Jaime’s head snapped up at that. True soulmarks? Weren’t all soulmarks true? That was the point of them wasn’t it? ‘No, I’ve only got the one true soulmark and that’s the one that appeared on me when I was five – Brienne's mother,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s a small sea wave, just on the back of my hip.’ He tapped the spot that was hidden by his clothes. ‘For thirty odd years I lived with that as my only one. I was happy with that as my only one. But Brienne’s mother passed, and I thought that was me done. And then I met Gail.’ Selwyn tapped the back of his neck. ‘She made me laugh, but I wasn’t even thinking about starting a relationship, even though I’d been on my own for years. And then one day, we were sitting and talking and she turned to get something, and I saw it blossom right on the back of her neck. I knew it had to be for me. I got her to check and that was that – no point in fighting it anymore.’ Selwyn took a bite of his cake. He didn’t sound like he was trapped in difficult memories; if anything, there was softness in his tone. ‘But when we looked at it more closely, we discovered the middle of the eye – it's an eye – was missing. And we both knew what that meant.’

‘What does it mean?’ Jaime asked. He’d never heard of soulmarks having parts missing.

‘It means it’s not a true soulmark. That this person will leave a mark on you, but that it will end. It might only be a one-night thing, or a fling, or even years and years together. They’ll never leave you. Me and Gail split when she got offered a job overseas; I couldn’t leave this place. Maybe the soulmarks know what’s going to happen; maybe they don’t.’

‘Surely only true soulmarks matter then?’ Jaime asked. Why would somebody go chasing after something that they knew would end?

‘Not at all,’ Selwyn said, with a small laugh. ‘Do I never wish my wife had died? Yes, of course. But I’m glad that there are other people out there that I worked with. I’m not very good at being on my own, truth be told, and with Gal off, and Brienne as she is, well it’s nice to have company. And soulmarks tell me that the relationship will be worthwhile.’ Jaime thought back to the documentary he’d watched weeks ago now; A Thousand Suns. He hadn’t noticed at the time, but thinking back, he realised that all the soulmarks Oberyn and Elleria had sported were unfinished in some way; a line here, a missing square of pattern on the snake, a block of colour that Jaime had just assumed was a faded soulmark. ‘Most people only get one true soulmark; a lucky few get two. And I’m by no means an expert, but as far as I know that’s the most true soulmarks that anybody has ever had. Brienne makes a point to keep an eye out for me. But the ones that crop up tell people that it is okay to love again; even if it will only be for a little while.’

‘I always thought all soulmarks were true,’ Jaime said. But people with more than one soulmark were rare. People with more than three, even rarer. Most people didn’t fall in and out of love so easily. ‘I always thought that was kind of the point of them.’

‘The point of soulmarks...well, I don’t know that anybody can answer that question,’ Selwyn said. ‘But just because it’s not perfect doesn’t mean it should stop you from taking the opportunity it offers you. If one sprouted on you, but it was unfinished would it stop you from giving the relationship a go, knowing it would end?’

Jaime tried to picture it. Sitting in Dr Stark’s office, talking with Brienne, watching as two matching soulmarks sprouted on their wrists. Waiting to see them fully emerge, and then discovering that a line was missing, or the colour hadn’t been filled in. He tried to picture him and Brienne spending years together, knowing that at any point it could end, that they could just simply fall out of love because they weren’t destined to be anything more than each other’s rebound.

‘No,’ Jaime said. If the universe would be willing to grant him even a few years with Brienne, with the way he felt about her now, he wouldn’t turn it down. ‘I don’t think I would.’

Chapter Text

The next Thursday, Jaime slowed down just outside Dr Stark’s building. He knew he’d have to get it over with and go inside – he had an appointment after all. But the idea of seeing Brienne after Sunday was unsettling. He still hadn’t decided if he should tell her what he knew or not. Tyrion had finally come back from his holiday, but Jaime hadn’t confided in him. He wasn’t even supposed to know these things about Brienne – he couldn’t now go and speak to others about them.

His therapist had really earnt their money this week, listening to Jaime’s ramblings for almost forty minutes before stepping in.

For a brief moment Jaime considered just waiting outside on the top step to see if Brienne would come and get him. She’d helped him when he had a panic attack that first time, which meant she must be able to see slightly from her office chair to the outside.

But no. That was a move for a coward and Jaime was nothing if he had no control over his flight instinct. He walked up the stairs, dread growing in his stomach. It would be fine. He would concentrate on seeing Brienne and let everything else fall.

‘Good afternoon Mr Lannister!’ said a perky voice. Jaime’s head snapped up and he was dismayed to see that Brienne wasn’t behind the desk; instead there was a tall red head with a pleasant smile on her face.

‘You’re not Brienne,’ Jaime said, stepping up to the desk. There was no neatly typed pile of papers for him today, with aftercare instructions – and dammit, he still hadn’t purchased a cream for his arm – or his invoice just waiting for him to check over, or shove into the glove box of his car and never look at again. There was a little children’s toy sitting on the desk, a neon green plastic ball attached to a spring that popped up once you’d pressed it down. It had a badly drawn smiley face on, and looked to Jaime like it wanted putting out of its misery. Brienne would never let anything so tacky in her office.

‘No,’ the woman said. ‘I’m afraid Miss Tarth is on holiday this week. You should have received a text informing you of the change and asking if you’d like to make other arrangements.’ She was young, the woman now staring at him. And there was something familiar about her; the shape of her eyes, or the russet colour of her hair. ‘Wait, you’re Mr Lannister. I wondered why this was addressed to you.’ She rummaged in the bottom drawer for a second, then thrust a slightly crumpled envelope into Jaime’s hand. ‘Brienne did mention that a current client wasn’t one for checking his phone for updates, and that she’d put another means of contact together. But I didn’t find that until yesterday.’ There was no stamp on the envelope, just Jaime’s name and address written in small curly handwriting. ‘She must have forgotten.’ The woman shrugged and turned back to her phone, but Jaime felt another ping of alarm. Brienne didn’t forget to do her job. She would never treat a client’s confidently like this. Unless there was a bigger force at play.

‘I do hope Brienne is alright,’ Jaime said. He scanned the letter the woman had given him, but there was nothing personal about it; just a small paragraph stating that the usual assistant would be on holiday, although a temp had been put in place and that if he would like to change his appointment due to this, could he please ring and rebook.

‘Brienne is fine. She always takes this week off,’ the woman said. ‘There’s a sailing contest she takes part in. She’ll be in the middle of a large body of water somewhere, sweating buckets and having the time of her life. Southhampton?’ The red head wrinkled her nose. ‘Portsmouth? One of those anyway, I think.’ Brienne hadn’t mentioned any of this to Jaime. The event was obviously a long standing one, and she’d never even hinted to Jaime that there might be a week of his treatment where she wouldn’t be here. ‘Is everything okay? You seem unhappy. I promise you I can be trusted. I’m not actually as young as I look.’ The woman smiled at him gently, and even though Jaime had only ever seen the ghost of a smile on Dr Stark the resemblance was suddenly uncanny.

‘You’re Dr Stark’s daughter,’ Jaime said.

‘I am,’ she said. ‘You can call me Sansa.’

‘Hello Sansa. I’m Jaime.’ He was still clutching the letter, and he shoved it into his pocket because he didn’t want to look like a fool. So what that Brienne wasn’t here. She was allowed a holiday wasn’t she? And so what that she hadn’t told him. What had they talked about really, soulmark stories and the menu at Tarth’s. That didn’t a friendship make, no matter how much Jaime was trying to tell himself it did. Just because he trusted her didn’t mean she felt the same.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Sansa said. ‘If you’ll just take a seat for a few minutes; Dr Stark in currently on a phone meeting that’s run a little long. She’ll be with you shortly and she sends her apologies.’ Jaime did as he’d been asked but there was a twitch in his leg that was aggravating. His phone was still in his bedside table back home, and he didn’t have anything to distract him from his thoughts. He’d kind of been counting on Brienne for that.

‘How do you like working with your mother?’ Jaime asked. ‘I work with my father and it’s often a nightmare.’ The panpipes overhead were getting on his nerves today, and even the calming lavender scent that Jaime had found so reassuring was overpowering.

‘It’s not too bad here,’ Sansa said. ‘She’s in her office all day and I’m out here. And because I’m not the main assistant I’m only allowed to answer the phone and check clients in for their appointments. And I only do it to help out mother. I’m enrolled at fashion school, in my final year, but they’re pretty good at students missing a few weeks here and there. Some of my classes are online anyway, so it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong, and the money is good. I only help out when Mum needs it.’

‘Ah,’ Jaime said because if Brienne was slightly younger than him then this woman was even more so. He didn’t know how to ask about fashion school knowing that any interest he showed would seem fake.

The two of them settled into a passable silence. Jaime took to tracing the faded lines of his soulmark on his arm, looking up every minute or so when Sansa screwed up paper she’d been writing on and threw it into a small grey bin over by Dr Starks office. She missed more than she scored, and her reactions were mildly entertaining.

‘Don’t tell my mother,’ Sansa said after her next shot rebounded off of Dr Stark’s door and went bobbing along the floor to land at Jaime’s feet. ‘She’s very strict about how I should act when around clients. But you seem cool.’ She stood from her chair, walking around the desk to pick up the paper that had missed the bin.

She thought he was cool. Jaime supposed he would take that. It was more than the other assistant thought of him. Apparently.

As Sansa reached down to pick up the paper by Jaime’s foot, he caught a glimpse of her back, and then found himself staring. She was wearing a strappy sundress with a low back, designed to show off her shoulders.

On her right shoulder was a giant lion’s face. It was grey with a shaggy mane, and marked through with pastel watercolor splashes and fully bloomed flowers threaded in its mane. It was one of the most beautiful soulmarks Jaime had seen in his life; even though it was faded. The only reason Jaime knew it had once been a soulmark was because Sansa didn’t seem like the type of person to get something that big tattooed on a fairly obvious place. As she walked away Jaime noticed the snarling dog face on the back of her calf. This too was faded, and Jaime realised was unfinished; the top quarter of the face faded into black dots, like dandelion seeds in the wind. There was one inside the crook of her elbow too, that was exposed as she dumped all the paper into the bin, stretching her arm out; a tiny golden kraken with two missing legs. The side of her dress had small cut outs on the side, and Jaime wondered if she’d chosen it to display off her soulmarks; on her hip bone was a small blue bird, its wings outstretched.

‘What’s wrong with the bird?’ Jaime asked before he could think if it was a good idea.

‘No eyes,’ Sansa replied without hesitation. ‘Which could mean nothing; I know someone who’s got a bird soulmark also with no eyes. But mine’s got lines on the wings and it’s facing head on, so there should be eyes. At least that’s what I tell myself. The guy was more of a rebound than anything, although I suppose this means he meant more to me than I let on.’ She prodded the bird on her hip.

It was almost like soulmarks had a brain of their own, Jaime thought. Or like your heart did. Deciding which person would leave a mark on you, even if it wasn’t your ‘true’ person.

There was still no other mark on Jaime other than his original sword. (And potentially the one on his heart that belonged to Cersei, but he wasn’t thinking about that one. He wasn’t going to go mad trying to see if his blood was finally all red and she was gone for good. Brienne had been right about that; only he could know for sure when he was finally free of Cersei.)

He hadn’t even told his therapist that his new fear was of one not appearing on him. He knew that him and Brienne weren’t anything at the moment; but the fact that soulmarks hadn’t appeared for them meant neither of them would leave a mark on the other. Their relationship, whatever it was now, was all it would ever be; they wouldn’t know each other long enough to permanently mark each other.

‘Jaime, good afternoon,’ Dr Stark said as she stepped out of her office. ‘Please, forgive me. A phone meeting ran a little late.’

‘No worries doc,’ Jaime said, standing. ‘I was just getting to know your daughter here.’ He nodded to Sansa who gave a smile, and then turned back to typing something quickly on the laptop in front of her, even though Jaime knew she’d been looking at her phone before her mother’s office door had opened.

‘Why don’t you come through and we can get started,’ Dr Stark said and she stood back so that Jaime could pass her into the office. ‘And Sansa,’ he heard her say as he settled into the desk chair, ‘you missed a paper ball. There’s one under the sofa.’

*

‘How have you been Jaime?’ Dr Stark asked. She took his arm in her hands, and her lips pursed but she said nothing. Jaime could see the red patches on his skin that he assumed would have faded if he’d been using the prescribed medicine. Once again, he made a mental note to order some, or even pop into a shop that sold it and physically buy a tube if he had to.

‘Oh, not too bad,’ Jaime said wondering if ‘not too bad’ now meant ‘struggling under the burden of my thoughts’ to everyone these days. He thought it probably did. ‘Yourself?’

‘Much the same as always,’ Dr Stark said. ‘The scars look ready for today’s treatment, that’s good. I assume you’ve read up on what will happen?’ She was already fetching her scalpel from the top drawer, and lying the clean cloth for him across the table.

‘You’ll be cutting the scars that you injected last week off,’ Jaime said. This treatment was only to get rid of the raised scars that had reached his second layer of skin. The Shaving was now two weeks away, and that would cut down further into Jaime’s skin so that when his arm was fully healed there would be no scars or lines; just smooth skin marred only by his soulmark. It was still overwhelming to think about.

‘I will,’ Dr Stark said. ‘If you’re comfortable we can perform the procedure here. I assure you my office is sterilized after each appointment.’ Jaime nodded. He liked sitting in the office chair instead of the big blue one on the other side of the curtain. It made everything feel less clinical somehow. ‘Excellent,’ she said, popping open a drawer on her side of the desk and taking out a small blue bag. She took a sealed scalpel out, and that was when Jaime let his gaze wander. Although he’d liked knowing what would be happening to him in these sessions seeing the tools that would be used on him was a different matter altogether.

‘I had an interesting weekend,’ Jaime said. ‘I saw soulmates meet each other for the first time. Have you ever seen that happen?’

‘Four times,’ Dr Stark said. There was a clinking sound now, almost lulling Jaime into a tired state. If it wasn’t for his current heightened senses and the anxiety he was feeling it would be quite relaxing. ‘Me and Ned. Me and Brandon. An old family friend who met his soulmate when he came to our house when I was younger and had matching soulmarks with a maid of ours. And my eldest son. It’s quite a scene, usually, isn’t it?’

‘It was,’ Jaime agreed. ‘They got engaged about fifteen minutes after they met.’

‘I hear that’s more common than people believe,’ Dr Stark said. ‘And why not? Your soul has recognized this person as the one you’re meant to be with. Why bother waiting any longer?’

‘Only if it’s a true soulmark I presume. Did you know about true soulmarks?’ he asked, and Dr Stark let out what Jaime assumed for her was a laugh.

‘Jaime, my job is to heal soulmarks. Even unperfect ones. Those are usually damaged in a fit of anger when the relationship ends, even though both parties knew it would happen at some point. When the emotions settle, the soulmarks are still damaged, and that’s when they come to me.’ True soulmarks and unperfect soulmarks and unrequited soulmarks and secret or shameful soulmarks. How big this universe was, and how little Jaime had known about it.

‘How soon did you get engaged? After you met Brandon and Ned?’ Talking was helping to distract Jaime; he barely flinched when Catelyn put the cold metal to his skin and the scraping started. She’d already rubbed a cream into his arm, and his arm was starting to numb.

‘Brandon asked me as soon as we met,’ she replied. ‘I told everybody; times have changed a little, but it was the done thing in those days. You met your soulmate, and you got engaged. Now you get people who don’t want to get married even with matching soulmarks, or those who want to wait and see if it really can be that easy.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘And I can’t say they’re wrong; I’ve seen too many love stories turn bad.’ He wanted to press her on that point, but she carried on, and he stored it away for another session. ‘And Ned proposed the moment we realised our soulmarks matched too. We didn’t tell anyone for a few months afterwards; we wanted to respect Brandon.’

‘I offered them a Casterly,’ Jaime said. He ignored the slow scrape of metal down his arm, wishing the cream would take effect sooner than it was. He didn’t want to say anything and make a big deal; if he couldn’t handle this, in two weeks he would be a puddle on the floor, begging Dr Stark to stop treatment. And he was good at not showing his true feelings. He could suffer anything for ten minutes.

He didn’t know why there felt like such a big difference between Dr Stark cutting off his scars and the cuts that had caused them in the first place. Maybe it was just that this was happening now, and the memories of his cuts had blurred over the years, most of them taking on a dreamlike quality. Cersei’s face was always visible in them, although that wouldn’t have been true at the time; sometimes the only evidence he had to prove that Cersei had marked him was the pain and the warm gush of blood over his arm as she moved in the pitch black.

‘That’s a generous gift,’ Dr Stark said. ‘Did they really move you that much?’

‘It was more than that,’ Jaime said. ‘Margaery’s Grandmother painted the lion on our shop front, and it’s practically iconic now. And since I helped bring them together, I felt like I needed to give them something.’ Margaery had phoned up the shop on Monday morning, and she had an appointment for next Tuesday to come and get the ring fitted.

‘You helped to bring them together? How so?’

‘Well,’ Jaime said, and he paused. He didn’t want the whole world to know that this journey had started by him hitting on Margaery. ‘Me and Margaery got chatting in Tarth’s last week. She’s painting their bathroom. I saw her soulmark and I mentioned it to Brienne, and she thought she might know who had the matching soulmark. She asked them if they wanted to meet and they did.’

‘And you just happened to be there for the meeting?’

‘Totally random,’ Jaime quipped. ‘No, I overheard the conversation Brienne had with Pod and I wanted to see it.’

‘Pod?’ Dr Stark asked. He looked at her, and even with her hunched over his arm, focusing on nothing else, there was a frown on her face. ‘Brienne called someone named Pod?’

‘Podrick Payne,’ Jaime said. ‘I believe he’s a former client of yours.’

‘He found his soulmate? And she was okay with him?’

‘She was more than okay,’ Jaime said gently. Dr Stark had stopped with his arm and was looking back at him. ‘I’ve never seen two happier people.’

‘That’s good,’ Dr Stark said. She tapped the end of her scalpel on the table. ‘Doing this job is rewarding, I’ll admit it. I like fixing soulmarks, but I rarely get to hear about the happy ending. Most people have so much pain and emotional issues associated with this place they don’t tend to come back and tell me how they’re doing.’

‘That’s a shame,’ Jaime said. ‘I’d promise to come back and tell you how my story ends, but at the moment I’m sort of hoping my happy ending doesn’t involve my soulmate.’

Dr Stark nodded, and then went back to his arm. She wasn’t a therapist; she was here to fix his arm, not his head.

‘Well, I’d still like to know,’ she said.

‘I went back to Tarth’s on Sunday,’ Jaime said, shoving down a wimp of pain that rose in him. His arm was now fully numb, but maybe just because he was aware of what was happening, he still felt like he could feel the metal scraping off his skin. ‘And I spoke to Selwyn. He said you called him and told him you were concerned for Brienne.’

‘I did,’ she said. Maybe it was because Brienne wasn’t sitting in the outer office today or just because she was concerned, but she started to talk. ‘Brienne’s been here for three years now; she came just before Ned passed. I had to speak to Renly about her reference; he didn’t want to let her go, but he knew she wouldn’t stay. He told me that she had been through a bad time but that he thought things were starting to get better, and to keep a close eye on her. He loved her work, but she used to get so focused. Once she came here, she didn’t even pick up a pencil. I’d hired an artist, I’d expected her to doodle now and again. When I asked her about it, she shrugged and said she didn’t need anything else to focus on now days. But now she’s back to drawing, and not noticing the world around her.’ Dr Stark gave another sigh. ‘Brienne isn’t just an assistant, she’s my friend. When she first came to work for me, Sansa took her out and they drunk a little too much; I think Sansa pressured her into it, although she managed to hold it together pretty well. When she dropped Sansa off, she stayed and spoke to me for a little while. I asked about her soulmark; I’ve never seen it, even though she’s outside every day.’ So Catelyn had known that Brienne’s knight was unrequited. She would have known it was Renly’s business logo and what that meant. ‘I knew she was born with one though; she mentioned it at the interview. I asked if she was interested in soulmarks, or just in drawing them. The interview lasted three hours because we were so busy talking about stories.’ It sounded like Dr Stark was smiling, and Jaime longed to look, but he knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to put the work being done to him to the back of his mind for the rest of the session. ‘But she’s very closed off about it. Doing what I do, I know what that means; and she told me that night I was right. Her soulmate, whoever they may be, has caused damage to their soulmark. I don’t know how much, or when. I offered to heal it for her, but she refused and we never spoke about it again.’

‘I didn’t know about the shared connections,’ Jaime said. ‘That when I damaged mine, it would also harm my soulmate.’

‘I did wonder,’ Dr Stark said. ‘But you understand, that’s not something I share with my clients? I’m here to make their soulmarks back to what they should be; not to judge or inform.’

‘I do,’ Jaime said, but he couldn’t help the tiny dart of annoyance he felt, although it wasn’t really at Dr Stark. Soulmark connections should be shouted from rooftops, drilled into everybody’s head from birth.

Then, for the first time, Jaime wondered if it would have made a difference if he’d known. The reason the cuts had started had been to prove to Cersei that his soulmate meant nothing to him; wouldn’t it just have added to his cause if they knew he was physically hurting whoever it was at the same time? And Cersei certainly would have taken pleasure in knowing she was hurting this mystical woman. He liked to think it would have stopped him; that knowing another person was hurting because of his actions would have made him think twice.

But he was glad he’d never have to find out. ‘I’ve decided to track my soulmate down,’ Jaime said. ‘I need to tell them how sorry I am for all the pain I've caused them. But to do that I needed a drawing; photographs of this aren’t going to help.’ He tried to flex his arm muscle, but he thought it was had little effect since he couldn’t currently feel it. He knew the cream would wear off in a couple of hours, and was grateful that Tyrion was coming to pick him up after this appointment. ‘Renly kindly agreed to meet me and hand over a drawing.’ Dr Stark gave a murmur of acknowledgement. ‘He told me about Tormund; Brienne’s former boyfriend. After my talk with Selwyn, I’m concerned that he may be the reason Brienne is drawing again.’

‘Mr Lannister,’ Dr Stark said, and Jaime knew the conversation was over. ‘Talking about people’s soulmarks is one thing; and I haven’t told you anything that you wouldn’t have figured out for yourself.’ That was true. ‘But I refuse to discuss my assistant’s personal life with you, no matter what feelings you may currently harbour for her.’ There was silence in the room for a little while, as Dr Stark continued on with his arm and Jaime sat in his own thoughts.

‘You’re worried,’ he said, finally. ‘That I’m going to hurt her.’

‘You’re tracking down the woman the universe has decided you should be with. I know that not everybody ends up with their soulmate, but it’s only a 4% chance that something won’t quite gel. And Brienne has been hurt, probably in ways I don’t understand or know about. And I’m not just worried about you hurting her; I’m worried about her hurting you too. I know you’re in therapy. I know these scars didn’t just happen because you didn’t want to be with your soulmate, but because of another element at play. I’m a doctor, I know these things. I think Brienne might be the first person you’ve liked since things went south with the person responsible for most of your scars; and I’m worried that Brienne, because of her history won’t be able to open up to you.’

‘You’re worried you’re about to watch a train wreck,’ Jaime guessed, and he looked at Dr Stark who was staring at him with worry in her eyes.

‘I’m worried because I care about my friend and my client and I hear you talking every week and going off for lunches and caring for one another,’ Dr Stark said and she put the now bloody scalpel down on the table. Jaime’s arm was a mess of blood and the scars she’d cut off were screwed up in tissues and lying in a small metal bowl next to him. ‘And there are so many possibilities about what could happen. And the connection I see you two building; I’m worried that you will get so far involved with each other just for everything to come crashing down. I don’t think either of you could take that.’

Jaime didn’t have that many people in his life who cared about him. His father, he often though, would be sad if he died, but was annoyed by everything else that Jaime did; Cersei could no longer be counted on; Pia and a few others from work liked him, Jaime knew, and he could probably call them up if he was in a tight situation and they’d come to help him. But Tyrion was the only person who Jaime could truly rely on, and the only person who would ever come right out and admit it. Dr Stark’s admission that she cared about Jaime, even after just a few sessions, that she was worried he was walking into a disaster made his throat feel tight and his eyes prickle. He knew it wasn’t about him; that Brienne would always come first and foremost in Dr Stark’s affections, and it was for her that Dr Stark was concerned about. But still.

‘I need to clean your arm up,’ she said, and pushed herself away from the desk so she could get the equipment she needed.

Jaime smiled.

*

When they emerged from the office fifteen minutes later it was to a scene Jaime hadn’t expected to walk in on; Sansa, with her chin in her hands, staring with bright eyes at Tyrion who was settled on the sofa, both of them laughing about something. His brother was a charmer, that was true enough, but Jaime felt a prickle of alarm as he saw the excited glimmer in Sansa’s eyes, and thought about how easy her skin marked. Tyrion didn’t need another soulmark, especially not an unperfect one. His brother was fine with his one-night stands with women in tight dresses who only wanted him for his money or his name. Having someone in his life, but knowing it would lead to disaster would be too much for him; Tyrion was a sensitive soul, although Jaime knew if he ever said as much, Tyrion would stop speaking to him.

‘Mr Lannister,’ Dr Stark said as she escorted Jaime to the desk, ‘it’s nice to see you again.’

‘And you Dr Stark,’ Tyrion said, hopping down off the sofa, and shaking her hand. ‘I’ve just been getting to know your delightful daughter here.’ Sansa gave another tinkling laugh and Jaime hid his smile as Dr Stark’s lips pursed for a second before her professional mask came back.

‘Sansa does tend to make friends easily,’ she said. ‘Now, Mr Lannister, this is unorthodox of me, but I need to speak to you about your brother’s care. Usually we leave it up to the clients to take care of their injuries, but your brother has proved he is not to be trusted in this case, and I need his arm to heal properly if we are to finish treatment on time.’ She slid a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Tyrion. ‘These are a list of creams that will help the healing process. If you could order them and ensure he’s applying them liberally to his soulmark a couple of times a day, I’d be much happier.’

‘Of course,’ Tyrion said, running an eye down the typed list of medical names. ‘If I had any idea he wasn’t taking care of himself I would already have done my part, I assure you.’

‘Then I’ll leave it in your capable hands,’ Dr Stark said, turning back to the desk. Jaime went and stood next to her as she sorted through the pile of papers Sansa had left for her mother to deal with; the invoice was stuffed in the middle. ‘Jaime, next week is just a check-up to ensure your skin is healing as it should be, and to make certain that you’ll be ready for The Shaving. Would you still like to come in, or shall we have the appointment online?’

‘I’ll come in if that’s alright,’ Jaime said. He ignored the knowing smiles that mother and daughter both now seemed to be wearing and wondered just how much in this office was kept secret.

‘I can’t say I’m surprised. Just to confirm; in two weeks when we undertake The Shaving, Tyrion Lannister will be here with you, and picking you up afterwards?’

‘I will,’ Tyrion answered. ‘I’ve heard about that procedure and it sounds horrible. I would be honored to hold my brother’s hand throughout it.’ Sansa giggled, then blushed when her mother looked at her, turning back to whatever she was pretending to do on the computer, and Jaime shot his brother a glare. Tyrion wouldn’t actually be allowed in the room while Jaime was undergoing The Shaving but he was supposed to be outside in the lobby, just in case something did go wrong and Jaime needed to be rushed to hospital. (It happened to 2% of patients who undertook The Shaving. The knives caught on a bit of uneven skin and ripped it away, or the points dug in too deep if the machine hadn’t been looked after properly, or a number of other horror stories that Jaime had found himself staying up too late to skim read the previous few weeks.)

‘I’ll order these as soon as we get home,’ Tyrion said, sliding the list of creams into his own pocket. Jaime took the invoice from Dr Stark and made his way towards the door. ‘It was wonderful to meet you Sansa.’

‘You too,’ Sansa Stark said, giving a little wave and then ducking her head under her mother’s stare.

‘Make sure you do,’ Dr Stark said. ‘And I’ll see you next week, Jaime.’

Jaime, his arm now wrapped up in bandages for the first time since he’d started treatment tugged a little at the tightly wrapped cloth, nodded and bid both the women farewell. It had been a good session; but Jaime couldn’t help feeling as he got into Tyrion’s car, letting his brother’s chatter wash over him, that something had been missing.

Chapter Text

‘You’re back!’ Jaime said as soon as he entered Dr Stark’s office building the next Thursday. He didn’t try to contain the grin that spread across his face as he saw the tall figure of Brienne sitting back in her rightful place behind the desk.

‘I was gone for a week’s holiday,’ she said, frowning at him or his enthusiasm, Jaime wasn’t sure which. ‘Everyone’s entitled to a few weeks of annual leave. It’s the law.’

‘I know that,’ Jaime said, and he wondered if he could get away with an ‘I missed you’ as a friendly phrase, but at the last second decided against it. He would give his words more meaning and the last thing he wanted was for Brienne to retreat back behind her wall. ‘How was it? Sansa said you went to a sailing contest.’

‘I did,’ Brienne said, and for a second Jaime thought that would be all he’d get out of her. ‘It was a disaster. I’ve never had such a bad day on the boat. The weather wasn’t great, but something else must have been at play; it was like my arm froze. I couldn’t feel a thing.’ Jaime didn’t know much about sailing, but he did know that both arms were important to it.

‘No winning trophy?’ he asked instead of showing up his ignorance.

‘Even if my arm hadn’t decided to betray me, I wouldn’t have won. I don’t sail enough for that,’ Brienne said. ‘There’s not really anywhere to do it here. But I like entering the contests every year or so; it means I don’t get completely rusty.’ Jaime nodded, but the idea of entering a contest just to have fun was a novel one for him. Anything he’d entered would have had so much pressure built upon it, that all enjoyment would have been sucked away by his father’s expectations.

‘So, your arm,’ Jaime said. ‘I hope it’s nothing serious.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ Brienne said. ‘It went back to normal as soon as I was back in the hotel, and in the warm. I think it was probably a trapped nerve, or the water got in under my wrap. I owe you an apology,’ she said, switching the subject with a suddenness that left Jaime blinking at her. ‘I know about your aversion to texts and emails. I had intended to send out a letter about last week’s change in assistant, but...I forgot.’

‘You...forgot?’ Jaime asked. This, more than anything for him was alarming. He knew those closest to her were worried because she was drawing again, but Jaime had never seen any danger in that. Brienne had spent years perfecting her craft; why wouldn’t she want to take it up now and again as a favour to a friend, or to doodle occasionally? But her forgetting to do such an important part of her job was worrying. Jaime didn’t care about Sansa being here last week; in fact, it had been great. He was still wearing long sleeves to work, but he was rolling them up every now and again when he was grabbing a coffee on his lunch break or washing his car, and letting people he didn’t know catch a glimpse of his still half-finished soulmark. But if he had been another client, Brienne’s moment of forgetfulness could have caused serious issues. Issues, that Jaime knew Brienne would never forgive herself for.

‘It was an oversight on my part, and it will not happen again,’ Brienne said, and there was a steel in her voice that Jaime knew to take seriously. Whatever was distracting her – was it this Tormund guy and how could Jaime possibly find out? - wouldn’t stop her from doing her job perfectly from now on. Jaime was sure of that.

‘Don’t sweat,’ Jaime said, instantly regretting the casual phrase. He was no longer young enough to pull that off. ‘Honestly, it was no big deal. Sansa seemed sweet. I saw her unperfect soulmarks. Another lesson for me.’ He’d Googled the films Brienne had recommended to him until he’d found one dealing with unperfect soulmarks and watched it last night when he hadn’t been able to sleep. A middle-aged couple with unperfect soulmarks had married and had a daughter together but were rocked by disaster when the husband developed another unperfect soulmark for the red headed sexy woman who boosted his self-confidence and made him go for a promotion at work he wasn’t really qualified for. Even knowing that things weren’t going to work with this new woman the man had betrayed his wife and child for her, only to end up in ruin when she left him and moved onto her next big conquest. It was a depressing movie, and not even the fact that the main actor had been nominated for an Oscar for his performance had improved it any.

‘Not the only unperfect soulmarks you saw last week I take it?’ Brienne said, and Jaime thought for a second that she had powers and knew about the film he’d watched and the dream he’d had where unperfect soulmarks appeared on him and her and he fought for her to give them a go and she refused. ‘I had a few interesting texts last week.’

‘Oh?’ Jaime said, he scanned his brain trying to remember all that had been said and done during his weekend at Tarth’s. ‘From who?’

‘Well, one from my father saying that him and you had had a very interesting conversation about his soulmarks and that he was pleased I was branching out and making more friends and that you had his seal of approval.’

‘Really?’ Jaime said, smiling despite the fact that his heart was still beating a little too fast. He wasn’t sure what impression he’d left on Sewlyn, but he liked having his seal of approval. He knew Brienne and her father were close, even if Selwyn didn’t know the ins and outs of his daughter’s private life; but their opinions obviously mattered to each other, and Jaime knew he’d have even less of a chance with Brienne than he already did if her dad didn’t like him.

‘And then, a very, very interesting, rambling, I assume probably drunken one from Renly on Sunday night. I’d just arrived at my hotel so I didn’t look at it until Monday morning.’ She cleared her throat and picked up her phone from next to her, where she’d obviously been keeping it. ‘Brienne. I know I’ve said sorry a hundred times for what happened to you when you worked for me, but this time I convey with it with all emotions I should have from the beginning. I should never have let those guys talk their way into staying at my company. If I can’t even protect people who were once my friends, how can I ever expect to be a good person? My talk with Jaime this morning was enlightening; he reminded me that a soulmark is still a soulmark, even if it’s unrequited; that in some universes, if I wasn’t gay, we might even have been the one for each other. I’ve been thinking about that dance when we were teenagers all evening. You looked so powerful, and I hate knowing that I ever made you feel anything less than what you are. You are my friend, and I haven’t respected that for many years now. I admired your talent, but only thought about it in terms of having the best person in my company. I forgot you are the best person even when you’re not drawing. I’m sorry I’m a shitty person. Maybe that’s why I haven’t met the person I’m supposed to be with yet; it’s the universe getting me back for how I treated you. You deserve better than Tormund, Brienne. I know you’ve said you’ve forgiven me, but I don’t believe you have, not really. I hope this will mean a new start for us.’ She placed her phone back on the desk and stared at Jaime. ‘My father mentioned you were in Tarth’s with Renly Sunday morning.’

‘Yes,’ he said. He drummed his fingers on the desk for a bit, waiting for Brienne to speak, to ask him questions, but she stayed still and silent and watching and he knew it would have to be him who broke this moment. ‘He gave me another drawing of my soulmark. You know I’m trying to track my soulmate down, to say sorry for all the pain I’ve caused.’ He gestured to his arm, and it was only now that he realised it was still wrapped in the bandage from last week. Tyrion had ordered the creams for his arm as soon as they’d got back to Jaime’s last week, but his little brother had then had to fly out of the country on important Lannister’s business (something about a dangerous situation in the place where they sourced their diamonds, a situation that nobody wanted the press to get hold of), and hadn’t been back since. Nothing had been delivered to Jaime’s house, so he guessed they’d gone to Tyrion’s. ‘He took my distracted nature, and thought it was because you’d told me about what had happened. He began to talk...and I let him.’

‘You had no right,’ Brienne said, and Jaime wished she would have shouted and expressed any emotion. Anything was better than her flat cold tone.

‘I know,’ Jaime said, but he sent a ‘thank you’ to whatever Gods may or may not have existed because it seemed that nobody had told Brienne that he’d spent the whole weekend talking about her. ‘I should have stopped him, but I wanted to know more about you and you weren’t going to tell me.’ He stopped himself from listing all the excuses he’d given to himself on the day, about him being tired and emotional. She didn’t need to hear how he’d justified it to himself at the time. ‘I thought you’d left because you were in love with him, and it was hard to be around him all the time; I didn’t realise.’

‘It’s not a story I go around shouting from the rooftops,’ Brienne said. ‘I’m not ashamed of what happened; I’ve accepted that it was less about me than it was about the idiots I worked with. I was an easy target, or at least they thought I would be.’ She paused for a second, but for the first time Jaime sensed she had more to say, so he kept quiet. ‘The list I gave you with the films, was actually one I made for Hyle Hunt. He found out that I was interested in unusual stories and asked me to help him understand. I spent weeks on that list, trying to find him a wide variety so that every aspect was covered.’

‘You kept a list for three years?’ Jaime asked. It wasn’t the most important thing, but his mind was still scrambling for the words to convey how sorry he was for his actions.

‘Accidently,’ Brienne said, and for the first time she locked gazes with Jaime, and there was a reddening on her cheeks. ‘I made it in a notebook, that I always keep in my bag in case I ever need to remember something. But my memory is pretty good, so I never have to write things down. My bag has remained the same for three years, and it’s absolutely full of rubbish that I should throw out but haven’t quite gotten around to.’ Jaime had seen her bag, a dark brown leather cross shoulder bag. ‘I didn’t leave Renly’s because I found out about what happened. I was already thinking about leaving. Drawing has helped me a great deal over the years, but I wanted something else. If anything, I was annoyed that the client told me about the bet; I knew what everyone would think when I handed my notice in. I didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of thinking they’d got to me; but I didn’t want to lose out on this job.’ For a brief second Jaime wondered if she was lying; if she had moulded her memories to fit this version of events so that nobody would see her as weak.

He dismissed the idea quickly. He could already tell that out of sheer willpower Brienne would have stayed at Renly’s to prove to those men that they had no effect upon her whatsoever.

‘I’m glad you got out,’ he said. ‘Are you mad that I know what happened?’ He fiddled with a pen lying on the desk, waiting for her answer. This wasn’t a story that you wanted casual acquaintances to know. Maybe in twenty years or so Brienne would tell a dinner party about the whole event, laughing as she sipped wine, and forgetting about it the next day. And no matter what she said, Jaime knew there would still be some residual feelings of shame inside her; some thought that snuck in, during her dark moments where she blamed herself for what had happened, even if she could sort herself out once her mood had passed.

‘No,’ Brienne said. ‘But if you wanted to know that badly, you could have just asked me.’

‘I didn’t think you’d tell me,’ he said, smiling now as a lightness filled him. He’d been so worried about Brienne learning about his weekend that it had become a constant thought in the back of his mind.

‘You’ll never find out any answers with that attitude,’ she said. ‘Dr Stark is ready to see you now.’ As usual, there was no beeping or any indication that the doctor had told Brienne anything, but Jaime had seen Brienne’s eyes drop down to something on the desk, just out of his sight.

‘Tell me about your favourite soulmark story,’ he said. He knew Dr Stark wouldn’t like to be kept waiting, but as this appointment was only going to last for five minutes – ten if she really did yell at him about once again not buying the creams – she could cut him a little slack.

‘A few years ago, there was a lead singer of a band called The Ravens,’ Brienne said, and there was a tiny smile on her face. ‘He always maintained that he wasn’t interested in finding love; that he had seen love and soulmarks destroy his parents lives and he refused to go down the same road. I guess his soul was listening to him because he didn’t have a soulmark for years; he even did a naked video shoot that was streamed live so that the public could make sure he wasn’t lying. And then, one day, The Ravens are performing at a festival. A crowd of 50,000 people. And out of all those, he finds this girl in the crowd, and he just stops singing. Trails off in the middle of the song, and just stares at her. And then, in front of 50,000 screaming fans, shown in full HD on the big screens to reach the audience at the back, his soulmark blooms, right across his bare chest. A huge, shaggy white wolf, with red eyes. The cameras panned to the woman he was staring at, to find the same wolf spread across her chest. They’ve been together ever since. Think they’re expecting their first child together.’

‘That’s your favourite? Just two people meeting and having soulmarks appear on them? That doesn’t sound unusual.’ Jaime didn’t know why he’d expected a one-of-a-kind story, something that was most likely an old wives tale, passed down through whispers and made into a book or ripped off by Disney.

‘It reminds me that everyone can find someone, even those who swear they don’t want to. It makes me believe in the magic of soulmarks – that their eyes met out of all those thousands of people there on that day. And, it shows me that even though Jon Snow swore he would never love, that someone out there is worth getting over all your baggage for. They weren’t born with soulmarks, but it just goes to show that love can happen when you least expect it.’

‘Is that what you’re waiting for?’ Jaime asked. He heard a noise behind Dr Stark’s office, and knew she would soon be out here, trying to find what the holdup was. ‘To fall in love when you’re not expecting it? Or have you already found someone?’

When Brienne’s eyes raked over his face, Jaime felt like the world had stopped. He wanted to strip naked right there, and check because if soulmarks were going to happen it would be right here right now, and he was suddenly cursing that soulmarks didn’t tingle or burn when they appeared because how was he supposed to know? If he lent just a little further over the desk...

‘Dr Stark is waiting for you, Mr Lannister,’ Brienne said. The sigh that Jaime suppressed felt like it had come up through his very soul itself, but he took a step back and made his way to the doctor’s door, tucking away the image of Brienne suppressing a grin.

*

Jaime sat at the other side of the table, a kind of nervous tension building inside him. Dr Stark hadn’t mentioned his arm being in the same bandages from last week, but she’d been examining his arm for over ten minutes now without saying a word. He knew the yelling was coming and wondered how bad it would be. Dr Stark didn’t seem like someone who would raise her voice and scream at her clients, but she was also a Mum and Jaime knew she probably had some pretty powerful lungs on her. Whatever was coming, it was going to be brutal. He kind of wished he could ask to call Tyrion so that his brother could take the bashing as well; after all it was Tyrion who had promised to take care of Jaime’s arm this week, but he didn’t think Dr Stark would take that as an excuse.

‘I’m glad my words got through to your brother at any rate,’ Dr Stark said finally, pushing his arm away from her and standing up to wash her hands at a small sink at the back of her office. ‘I have to admit I didn’t have high hopes for this meeting, but he’s done a remarkable job.’

‘I’m sorry?’ Jaime asked, shaking his head a little, almost like he was trying to tip water out of his ear and clear his hearing; except there wasn’t any water in his ear.

‘Your soulmark has healed wonderfully. I told you that liberal application would speed the process up, didn’t I?’ Dr Stark said. For the first time in a week Jaime saw his soulmark as he looked down at his uncovered arm. He’d expected to find the soulmark still angry and red from last week, but instead there was just a slightest pink tinge around the tiny raised cuts. When he ran his hand over it, he was amazed that the skin felt smooth and supple, and like it had had cream applied to it liberally several times a day. ‘To be perfectly honest with you, Jaime, if I’d known Tyrion was going to insist on taking such good care of it, I would have moved The Shaving forward, to get it over and done with. There’s not really a reason to wait another week, except that I’m fully booked now.’

‘That’s fine,’ Jaime said. How could this have happened? Were the bandages important medical ones that released some kind of lotion that had coated his arm each evening and Dr Stark was just waiting for him to admit he hadn’t even looked at his soulmark before she came clean?

Somehow Jaime didn’t think so. He could stay silent and let Dr Stark heap all the praise on Tyrion and just take this for a miracle...but. He also needed to know.

‘I’m afraid I have something to confess to you doc,’ he said, cutting her off in the middle of the speech about how she should think about getting client’s relatives in on the act more often (as long as the client agreed). ‘I haven’t touched my arm since the last session. Tyrion did order the creams as soon as he got back, but he got them delivered to his house and he had to jet off the day afterwards to sort out a business issue. I don’t know why it looks so healed.’

‘I thought I recognized the bandages,’ Dr Stark said. ‘But after seeing your arm, I assumed we used the same brand.’ She gave a sigh, then picked up his arm again, running her fingers along his soulmark and peering even closer at it than she had been. ‘I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but considering the arm has healed nicely, I don’t think I can unleash the full force of anger upon you.’ Relief washed over Jaime. He liked Dr Stark, he did. He was grateful for all she was doing for him, even if it was just because he was paying her and it was her job. But she was relatively easy to talk to, and except in terms of him taking care of himself she hadn’t judged him.

‘What do you think caused it?’ Jaime asked. ‘Do I have superpowers I haven’t discovered?’ He raised an eyebrow and Dr Stark let out a reluctant smile, before laying his arm gently back down on the desk.

‘I doubt it,’ she said. ‘I do have one theory...but, well, I’ve never seen it happen before.’

‘What?’ Jaime asked. ‘Because superpowers were the only theory I could come up with.’

‘You know that there’s a connection between soulmarks,’ Dr Stark said. ‘That if one soulmark obtains a damage, then more often than not, the matching soulmark will produce the same damage.’

‘Yes,’ Jaime said, slowly. The connection between soulmarks had been keeping him awake at night. None of the agencies he’d hired had got back to him, even though he’d had Pia write strongly worded e-mails to them. (He still hadn’t told anyone at work about him trying to fix his soulmark, but he’d assumed Pia wouldn’t know the names of the three best soulmate trackers in the UK. She could Google them, but knowing Pia, Jaime would bet the idea wouldn’t even occur to her.)

‘You’ve done a lot of damage to your soulmark. That’s why you’re here. There are some people who believe that the more damages caused to a soulmark the deeper the connection between the marks will be.’ Jaime recalled Brienne saying something similar to him, just a few weeks ago, although his mind had been more preoccupied with the ‘you’ve probably been harming your soulmate for years’ bombshell she also dropped on him. ‘It’s like the soulmarks, over the years, become more aware of each other; the connection becomes more sensitive.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘That maybe your soulmate has been using the creams on their arm. Do you see here?’ Dr Stark touched a red raw section of skin just on the side of Jaime’s arm; one of Cersei’s cuts had gone over the edge of his soulmark, the knife slipping in Jaime’s blood in the darkness of their nights together. Dr Stark had cleared it away, just like all the rest, but the area around the cut that didn’t overlap with his soulmark looked a lot like Jaime imagined his whole arm would when he’d first taken off his bandage. ‘This part hasn’t been touched, because it’s not on your soulmark. Only the soulmark area is healed. You could break your arm and your soulmate wouldn’t feel that; but any damage on the surface, they probably will feel.’ Jaime traced the red raw patch again, wincing as he prodded the sore skin.

‘When I spoke to Brienne about it, she told me that some people have such deep – or sensitive - connections that they can speak to each other just by writing over their soulmark. Do you think that would work here?’ He could fire those three useless trackers.

And, he wouldn’t have to meet his soulmate. He could just write them an apology note on his arm, explaining how bad he felt, and about his ignorance in all things soulmarks, and saying that he wasn’t interested in meeting and he hoped she had a lovely life, but it would be one that didn’t involve him.

‘I can’t say for sure,’ Dr Stark said, ‘I only know how to fix soulmarks. But my guess would be no; while the healing process is working, the writing thing is rare. There’s no doubt that you share a special connection with your soulmate, and by all means you’re welcome to ignore me, and try it and see what happens; just don’t be disappointed if it yields no results.’ She was smiling at Jaime like she could see inside his head; that she knew what a simple solution this would provide him with. Over and done with in the space of a day, if that. ‘I know this is none of my business, and please forgive me if I’m overstepping the boundaries, but maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss your soulmate. Whoever they are, they’re obviously taking care of themselves; they’ve noticed something is happening to their soulmark and they’re doing what they can to heal it. They, of course, might not realise that the connection is so deep that them soothing their pain is also soothing yours. But I notice your soulmark has never had any attempts to have it healed before you came to me; your soulmate let you get on with your life, on your own terms, never seeking treatment. And some people believe the deeper the connection, the deeper the love will be.’ And Jaime and his soulmate’s connection obviously went pretty deep; although, was that just because of all the damage he’d done to it over the years?

How could people handle not knowing? Soulmarks were supposed to be the all-knowing guide to help you find the person that was meant for you; if they had inconsistencies, how could they ever be relied upon?

‘I’ve never let myself consider my soulmate as a viable option,’ Jaime admitted. From the moment his soulmark had bloomed, he’d wanted out. Even at nine years old the idea had scared him; because who would want to be saddled with him? He’d been a nine-year-old boy, struggling to read, and already dealing with a whole host of issues. His mother had passed away a few years earlier, while birthing Tyrion; his twin sister had an evil and jealous streak that Jaime pretended not to see because it had always been easier to be on Cersei’s good side rather than her bad; and he couldn’t go and tell his father, hoping to celebrate the news that Jaime wasn’t going to be alone forever, because his father had withdrawn into himself and the business since his wife’s passing and Jaime knew he wouldn’t get any kind of reaction. The Cersei relationship had been piled on top, and Jaime had told himself that was why he hated his soulmark; and now the feelings he was harboring for Brienne needed to be dealt with.

‘Maybe it’s time you considered them. Just as a possibility.’

He still couldn’t imagine it. Nobody would want to be with someone who had hurt them, even if it was because they hadn’t known about it. Brienne had admitted it herself, and Jaime was starting to suspect that Brienne was hiding a damaged soulmark herself; the bridge on her foot that Renly had insisted she had.

‘I’m not sure I can quite consider someone I haven’t met a possibility,’ Jaime said. ‘Not when there are other, more prominent women I’d much rather consider.’

Dr Stark smiled at him, patted him on the arm and then excused herself to wash her hands again. It was Jaime’s cue to go, and he knew he needed to; his appointment had run over. As he made his way back into the office, he wondered if Brienne had asked Dr Stark to speak to him; to encourage him towards someone else, the person meant for him. And Brienne would only ask her boss to do that if she knew that Jaime had feelings for her, and she wasn’t interested.

Chapter Text

Jaime’s steps slowed down as he approached the offices. He hadn’t felt nerves this bad since his first appointment here, but they were coming back now. He’d spent the entire week reading up on The Shaving and exactly what he could expect and how bad things could go wrong. Reading about people who’d had to have blood transfusions or who’d had large patches of skin ripped from their body in seconds probably hadn’t been the best idea but Jaime hadn’t been able to help himself.

It would be fine. Dr Stark had an entire page on her website about her process for The Shaving, and how every care was taken to ensure that nothing went wrong; and her plan of action if an accident did happen. Dr Stark would be in the room the whole time, watching the razors shave his skin through a tiny little camera inside the machine. And Jaime had made a pact with himself, that once he got through this, he would allow himself to do something he wanted. Something he’d been thinking about for a while anyway, but would give him the extra push he needed to get through the next hour.

It was only the idea of actually seeing Brienne now that pushed him through the door, and the smile that spread over his face as he caught sight of her sitting at the desk, her brow furrowed as she stared at something on her laptop screen was completely against his will; not that he minded much. He had spent so many years trying to control his emotions, to hide his feelings for Cersei everywhere he went. He was never allowed to talk about her to anyone, or smile at her in the way he wanted to when they were around their father. He couldn’t ask her to go on a date with him, or even moan about her to Tyrion, in the mostly light hearted way that he’d always seen and heard men do about their girlfriends when they were being overdramatic, or nagging them, or even just because they’d caused a slight annoyance.

His therapist had encouraged him to stop bottling his feelings up. That it was good to express emotions, and to tell people how you felt, although you needed to be prepared for their responses and understand that it may not be the one you wanted it to be.

The Shaving was going to be a nightmare – and so were the first ten minutes of the appointment when Dr Stark realised Jaime had come alone – so why shouldn’t Jaime try and make the aftermath better by going after the woman he wanted?

As he sauntered towards the desk, Jaime tried to gauge Brienne’s mood. If she was annoyed and scowled at him then he’d need to get her talking about soulmark stories again until her bad mood went away. He was planning on spending most of his appointment working out how best to ask her out, without making her hackles rise. Obviously, he’d have to start out by assuring her that he didn’t care about his soulmate.

‘Jaime,’ Brienne said, interrupting his train of thought. The smile she was giving him made his heart flip, but it faded somewhat as he stood in front of her. ‘Where’s your brother?’

Ah. The other moment that Jaime had been dreading.

‘He will be here to pick me up,’ Jaime said. ‘But work has been overrun by a crisis and he had to go to an emergency meeting to try and sort a few pieces out. He’s assured me that he will be here.’ Tyrion had sounded stressed and distraught on the phone, but it hadn’t mattered to Jaime. If anything, he was secretly glad that Tyrion wouldn’t be here; he still remembered how well his brother and Brienne had bonded, and the possibility that soulmarks would show up on the two of them still haunted his thoughts.

‘Jaime, we cannot go ahead with the procedure if there’s nobody here to care for you afterwards,’ Brienne said.

‘There will be somebody here,’ Jaime explained patiently. ‘Do all of you clients have their next of kin waiting here for them in case something goes wrong?’

‘When our client is undergoing The Shaving, then yes. They do.’ Brienne started to drum her fingers on the table and it took a second for Jaime to realise that she was typing a message to Dr Stark on their shared devices.

Sure enough a second later, Dr Stark herself came out of her office, a frown on her face.

‘Mr Lannister, what’s this I hear about your brother not being here? You know that we need to release you into the hands of someone who can care for you after this treatment, and that in case anything goes wrong we like to have someone waiting out here,’ Dr Stark said.

‘People having lifesaving surgery don’t always have someone waiting outside for them,’ Jaime tried to protest. ‘And he will be here. He’s just caught in a meeting.’ He could see them sharing looks with each other, wondering what the best course of action would be.

‘You’re fully booked for the rest of the week,’ Brienne said. ‘And we can’t try and shift the next patients' appointment either; it’s client 194.’

‘He comes into London specially,’ Dr Stark said. At the look of confusion on Jaime’s face she said, ‘it’s a client who refuses to let anyone but me know about his treatment. Brienne won’t be able to call him and rearrange.’

‘We could move it to next week,’ Brienne said doubtfully, as she clicked though what Jaime assumed to be an online diary on the computer. ‘But it might be tight – next week was only supposed to be a checkup so you put that new client’s first appointment in as well as all your usuals.’

‘Ladies, ladies,’ Jaime said, extending a hand to each of them. When Brienne sent a shadow of a glare towards him, he remembered he was supposed to be keeping her sweet today and smiled to show he was kidding. When in doubt, revert to the old Jaime. ‘I’ve spent the week psyching myself up for this today. Somebody will be here to collect me. I’m a grown man, and I promise that if anything does go wrong, I will not sue you because my brother can’t ride with me to the hospital.’

There were exchanging looks again, just as the phone rang. Jaime suppressed his sigh, and waited as Brienne answered, the habit obviously ingrained in her.

‘Dr Catelyn Stark’s offices, Miss Tarth speaking, how can I help you? Oh, hello. Yes, he’s here right now.’ Her gaze flickered to Jaime. ‘Yes, I do understand. Of course. Well, if you’re insistent...alright. I’ll see you soon Tyrion.’ She hung up and turned back to Dr Stark. ‘That was Tyrion. He apologized for not being here but has insisted that he will be. The meeting should be over in another half an hour or so, and he’s going to come straight here.’

There was a minute’s silence as both Brienne and Jaime looked towards Dr Stark. The choice was hers and hers alone, and Jaime knew that even if he pleaded his case to his very last breath nothing he said would change her mind.

‘Alright,’ she said finally. ‘Jaime go and get set up in the chair, while I sort a few more details with Brienne. I’ll be through in a second. Please do not touch anything.’ He wanted to ask her if she really thought so little of him, but resisted; he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know the answer.

He opened the door to her office, feeling like he was doing something naughty, entering without her being there. He took his time, walking as slowly as he could so he could hear as much of the conversation between the two women as possible.

‘If Tyrion doesn’t turn up,’ Dr Stark said, ‘what then? I read a small article talking about Lannister’s and some kind of accident, where a man was severely injured. Tyrion might be a while.’

‘We can’t leave him in the office,’ Brienne said. ‘Not with client 194 coming.’

‘There is another solution,’ Dr Stark said, but by then Jaime was already in her office and he had to shut the door.

He settled himself in the blue chair today, eyeing the gleaming silver machine next to him with some apprehension. It was usually tucked away in the further corner of the office, and Jaime wondered whose job it was to wheel this out every time they needed to use it. Dr Stark’s arm muscles didn’t look like they were up to the task.

The section where Jaime’s arm would be secured was a long open metal tray, that he knew from his research was used for limbs. There was part of the machine that detached if clients needed to lie down for a soulmark on their stomach or back. The whole thing looked like a giant silver box, like some sort of kitchen appliance that did nothing more than make the latest trendy breakfast food. But somewhere in there, was a long strip of razors that would spend 45 minutes attacking Jaime’s skin, going over and over it until most of his damages had been replaced by a very, very thin layer of skin and a lot of blood. Dr Stark would bathe the soulmark gently in some water with healing oils, and then wrap it. Jaime knew he wasn’t allowed to take the bandages off for a full 72 hours afterwards, and even then, only to apply cream liberally at night. (He finally had the creams at home. Tyrion had delivered them the moment he’d come back to the UK, looking as tired as Jaime had ever seen him. Jaime had been so grateful that Tyrion had chosen to deal with this whole thing that he’d given his brother a hot meal and a bed to crash in for the night before getting him to talk about it. Jaime had applied a little of the cream each night, but had spent most evenings watching his arm, wondering if his soulmate was staring at it. He’d tried to write on it, using a random green felt tip he’d found at his office, leaving the words on his arm for a full 12 hours before admitting defeat.)

‘Right, that’s been settled,’ Dr Stark said coming into the room and shutting the door behind her. ‘Forgive me for not offering you a drink, but it’s best not to put anything in your system up to 3 hours before.’ Jaime nodded; he knew that. He’d had a big breakfast this morning, as advised by the documents he’d been given, but hadn’t had anything else except a cup of coffee at 11am. He listened as Dr Stark talked him through how the machine worked and what he could expect; what the process was if something did go wrong; and that if Jaime felt the pain was too much, he need only say and Dr Stark would stop the machine as soon as it was safe to do. He needed to stay as still as possible while all this happened, and if he could think of anything that would help him during the next 45 minutes, to ask and Dr Stark would do her best to provide.

‘I don’t suppose your assistant is allowed to come and hold my hand while I go through this?’ he asked, only half joking. He could imagine how it would feel to sit here, with Brienne’s hand in his, her eyes reassuring him that everything would be fine.

‘If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to have my assistant holding down the admin side of my business,’ Dr Stark said. She placed Jaime’s arm in the position it would need to be in for 45 minutes, making sure it wasn’t too uncomfortable for him before she took her own seat, in her office chair that she’d wheeled over to a small table. Jaime could see that part of the machine had a small TV screen attached to it, which extended down for Dr Stark to adjust to her liking. He knew this screen would show her what was happening inside, the knives raking over his layers of skin again and again and again. If anything did go wrong, Dr Stark would be the first to notice, and try to halt proceedings.

There was a low hum coming from the machine, which Jaime tried hard to ignore. He knew that Dr Stark has just been doing her job, that she had to warn him of the risks, but he wished she hadn’t; all he could think about was something going wrong and being rushed to hospital.

He wondered if Brienne would hold his hand then.

When the first prick touched his arm, he almost flinched away from it; but he controlled himself, and kept his hand clenched in a fist to make sure the skin was nice and tight and the knives could get to his soulmark. His soulmark was slightly larger than average, he knew, and he wondered how people with giant soulmarks did this. He thought about the giant lion face on Sansa Stark’s back and shuddered at the thought.

‘Everything okay?’ Dr Stark asked.

‘Great,’ he replied. ‘It’s actually not as bad as I was expecting.’

‘Yes,’ Dr Stark said. She’d put on a small pair of wire framed glasses, which Jaime thought really suited her. ‘According to reports it’s not that bad for the first ten minutes or so.’ Her smile was grave, and Jaime knew that meant it would get bad. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the thin line of knife points slowly scraping away at the skin on his arm. There was a special computer program at work here, which studied scanned photos of a person’s soulmark, and then allowed someone (Dr Stark in this case) to set the measurements of how far and wide they wanted the razors to travel. They’d go up and down his arm, back and forth, taking off the first layer of skin. Then the second, third, and fourth. And that point, Dr Stark would stop the program, check Jaime’s soulmark and decide if they needed to go down another layer. She hadn’t been able to get a clear reading on how deep his damages penetrated, but Jaime knew both of them were hoping it would end with four layers of skin coming off.

He knew that scientists and doctors and all sorts of people at the top of their field had worked on this. That it had been a tried and tested process for ten years now, although the computer programming was a relatively new part; only two or three years old. He knew too that there were probably many things he was missing about how this whole thing worked; a lot of the research had been hard going and he’d let his mind glaze over even as he forced himself to the end of the webpage, not taking a single word in.

For a little while the only sound was the humming. Jaime was proud of himself for holding out so long; he was thanking his stars that his pain threshold was so great he wasn’t even struggling.

And then there was a sudden sharp tug from his arm and a riot of pain exploded, travelling from just below his wrist, all the way down his arm and into what felt like his spine.

‘SHIT!’ Jaime yelled, almost jumping out of his seat. He stared wildly at Dr Stark, waiting for her to stand up, to tell him something was wrong, but she remained seated, a pitying look on her face. ‘What’s going on? What happened?’ It was taking everything in him to remain sitting with his hand clenched and not rip his arm from the metal tray it currently lay in. But that wouldn’t help anything.

There was a sudden breaking noise from outside the office, and Dr Stark looked over at her closed door quickly, before turning her attention back to Jaime.

‘Nothing happened, Jaime. This is just the razors starting on their second layer of skin.’

‘Mmm,’ Jaime said. It was the only word he seemed to be able to utter. The razors felt like they had bypassed the skin altogether and was just taking off his nerves. This was only the second layer. He didn’t even want to think about what it would eventually feel like.

‘Jaime you need to relax,’ Dr Stark said. ‘I know it’s easy for me to say, but I need you to try and think about something else. Can you do that?’

‘Mmm,’ Jaime said again. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something other than the daggers currently stabbing into his arm. Work. Work was shit. There was going to be a ton of bad press if this whole situation got out...and ow, ow fucking ow. A small whimper escaped his lips and some part of his brain thought he should be embarrassed but he really couldn’t be bothered.

‘Have I ever told you about my kids’ soulmarks?’ Dr Stark asked, loudly. ‘I know you like talking about soulmark stories.’

‘No,’ Jaime managed to force the word through his lips. ‘No, you haven’t. Don’t they mind you talking about their soulmarks?’

‘The way I see it, is I grew their soulmarks inside me, so I should get to talk about them as much as I like. Or some of them at least.’ She was only doing this to try and distract him, Jaime could tell; but he was grateful.

‘Alright,’ he said, ‘tell me their stories.’

‘Robb is my eldest. He’s 24,’ Dr Stark said, and Jaime concentrated on her words, almost like there would be a quiz after the session that he couldn’t fail. ‘His soulmark appeared when he was a year old; two twin castles, just above the back of his knee. It took us another three years before we discovered his soulmate was a daughter born to an old family friend.’ Her lips turned down in a frown.

‘A family friend?’ Jaime asked, trying not to let his voice hitch. ‘That’s lucky.’

‘You wouldn’t say that if you knew the family. The Freys...well, I have no good words to say about them, so I won’t say anything at all. I mean Robb’s girl is pretty enough and nice enough I suppose, but I don’t think even the loveliest, kindest person would make up for having Walder Frey as a father-in-law.’ Her lips pursed. ‘Not that I have to worry about that any more. When Walder discovered his girl was supposed to end up with Robb, he was delighted. Insisted on them spending weeks together as they grew up, making our families holiday at the same places.’ She gave a shudder. ‘I don’t know if it was because the girl was so hesitant to do anything under her father’s eye, or because Robb resented doing anything we asked him to do, but they never really gelled.’ She gave a sigh that brought a small smile to Jaime’s lips before another tug from his arm wiped any joy from his being. ‘Three years ago, just after Ned passed Robb went on a stag weekend; one of his friends went to Vegas. I knew a bunch of lads getting drunk for 48 hours wasn’t a bright idea, but what could I say? Robb was 21, an adult really and after Ned died, he struggled. I didn’t push back against the idea as much as I should have. He came straight to me when he landed, with a woman on his arm. They’d met 24 hours ago, and had bedded and wedded each other – in that order. I suppose Robb had been looking for comfort and she offered it.’

‘He married someone he’d known for less than 24 hours?’ Jaime asked. He shouldn’t have been impressed but he was. Not many people defied their soulmarks, when the person was already in their life. Then again, Jaime supposed, not many people spent a lot of time with their soulmate and felt next to nothing. From what he’d gathered, in the event that a person didn’t take up with their soulmate it was because of a situation like Olenna Tyrell’s; where you met them for all of five minutes before making the choice to have nothing more to do with them.

‘He did,’ Dr Stark confirmed. ‘And to make matters worse soulmarks showed up on Robb and his new wife two weeks later, thus proving to him that he had made the right choice.’

‘You wish he’d ended up with the Frey girl?’ Jaime asked. Talking was becoming a little easier. It wasn’t like the pain was getting any worse, although he knew once the razors had finished taking off the second layer of skin he would be suffering again.

‘I suppose not,’ Dr Stark said, but she sounded mad about it. ‘That Robb has escaped from that family is the best I never hoped for. The girl took it fairly well, from what I heard. However, her father – he's not so happy. He’s trying to sue us.’

‘What?’ Jaime asked wondering if he’d misheard.

‘Oh yes. Something about failing to follow through on an intent of marriage or some such crap. Everyone’s supposed to be meeting next week to try and work out an arrangement, but he’s not getting a penny out of us as compensation – that's all he’s really after. Luckily my brother is a lawyer, and he’s agreed to help us.’

Suing your soulmate for choosing not to be with you. Jaime had never heard of such a thing, but he’d never heard of a lot of things before he came here. For a brief second he panicked that this might be something that he himself should worry about, but he squashed the thought. There were so many other issues in his life right now, he couldn’t put imaginary problems in the mix too.

‘Which brings us to Sansa,’ Dr Stark said, and if there had been a cloud over her when talking about Robb’s soulmark, the entire room now seemed to darken. ‘You’ve met her. You know that the soulmark she was born with didn’t turn out quite in the way we were all hoping for. She’d had relationships since then, each leaving it’s mark upon her.’

‘What happened?’ Jaime asked. ‘With the one she was born with? You don’t...’ he stopped to pant a little. This must be layer three, the razors now stabbing him in places he knew were usually protected for a reason. ‘You don’t have to tell me.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ Dr Stark said. ‘Sansa isn’t afraid to talk about her soulmark, and I’m not either.’ Whatever she said, it took her a few moments before she started to speak. ‘She met her soulmate when she was 18. Ned was still alive, and the boy seemed so nice. He came over to dinner, he charmed us. We were happy for her. Sansa had always dreamed about happily ever after's. She’d always make me tell her mine and her father’s story and I knew she was hoping for the same. She moved in with him after two months. It seemed a little quick, but they were soulmates; who can argue with that? Then Ned died, and I shouldn’t say this, but I’m glad he never had to see what his little girl was forced to suffer through. I didn’t...I was in a dark place myself, and I didn’t catch on quick enough. People have told me it wasn’t my fault, Sansa included. She says that she was trying so hard to hide what was happening to her, to hold on and preserve the fairytale that there was nothing I could possibly have seen.’

‘But she did get out,’ Jaime said. His mind sent flicking memories across his brain, images of him and Cersei together, cutting insults they exchanged when the other had done something to annoy them. He might have loved her, and she might have loved him in the only self-serving way she could, but their relationship hadn’t been good for either of them. Too busy clinging onto what they knew was wrong, because if it ended, then what had the point been? If they didn’t love each other, all they were, were disgusting human beings who had committed sins.

‘Yes. You know, Brienne played a part in that too. She’d just started here, when we all realized what was going on. She started a month before Ned died. It was almost like the universe knew I’d need someone to help me out. She kept this place in shape rearranging all the appointments, or helping them find someone else to go to while I was dealing with things. She came with us to help get Sansa out. Her soulmate refused to open the door to us, and Robb couldn’t get the door open. Brienne rammed into it with her shoulder and while we were so focused on getting Sansa away with us, she held the soulmate back until the police arrived. Really, went beyond a normal assistant. I will never stop owing her that.’

‘Brienne would have been happy to do it,’ Jaime said. He wasn’t sure he could quite get away with speaking for Brienne, but he also knew there was only truth in his words.

‘Brienne says that she now gets to see a dead soulmark, so really it’s her who should be grateful. People rarely get to see them.’ At Jaime’s look of confusion, she continued. ‘A dead soulmark is rare. It’s not what happens when one half dies– it's when the love and connection is so thoroughly dead that the whole connection between them dies. We were worried that this boy might try and hurt Sansa though their marks, but Brienne took one look at the lion and said it wouldn’t happen. It’s just a pretty mark on her body now.’

‘Is there anyway to get rid of a soulmark?’ Jaime asked. He had a million questions about Sansa’s soulmark, but he didn’t think asking them to her mother was the best idea. Instead he asked something he’d always been curious about.

‘If there is, nobody has found it yet,’ Dr Stark said. ‘People have tried for many years – cutting, scraping, taking off the whole limb. Destroying their connection so thoroughly that there’s no way the person who they hurt could possibly love them anymore. But soulmarks remain. They always come back when any attempt has been made to take them off.’

Jaime didn’t want to say that his hopes were crushed, but he couldn’t deny that it was a blow. He’d wondered if this was another secret kept from the masses, or something he’d missed while growing up.

But no. He knew even with his limited listening skills, he would have paid attention to that information. A way to get rid of his soulmark, forever? He wouldn’t have even hesitated.

‘And your other kids?’ Jaime asked. ‘You’ve got five, haven’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Dr Stark said, pulling herself from her memoires. She glanced at the screen that showed Jaime’s arm being torn apart, and he was quite glad he couldn’t see it himself. He was starting to feel a little sick with the pain now, and he didn’t think watching the live version would do him any good.

‘Arya is next. She’s 16. She’s always maintained that she’s never going to be anybody’s wife, or soulmate, but I noticed two months ago a drawing of a helmet on the back of her thigh. It’s not in colour, and I think some of the lines are missing, but it means there’s a person out there who’s left their mark.’

‘An unperfect soulmark,’ Jaime said.

‘Yes. You’ve reminded me, actually. I wanted to speak to Brienne about it. I’ve only gotten two quick glimpses of it, but it looked slightly different when I saw it the other week, like the bottom part had been filled in a little. I don’t know what that means.’

‘Hmm,’ Jaime said, but it was all he could do; the pain had reached such levels that he wasn’t sure even hearing about Dr Stark’s last two children would be any help. Still, he clenched his mouth shut not wanting to make another scream like the one he’d let slip out earlier.

Fourth layer. It had to be. This whole nightmare would be over in the next ten or fifteen minutes.

‘Then there’s Bran,’ Dr Stark said. ‘He was born with a tiny little frog on his left foot; and then two years after he was born another tiny little frog appeared on his right foot. I don’t know what that means either, and Brienne has her theories, but I suppose we won’t know until he meets someone who he matches with. Which brings us to Rickon. My baby. Who so far, at 11 years of age has no soulmarks and seems fairly happy about it.’

‘Hmm,’ Jaime said again. Silence settled in the room. Dr Stark had run out of children and Jaime couldn’t ignore the pain any longer. It was the only thing he could focus on; which was why he jumped so badly when the phone rang out suddenly, the noise jarring in the quiet room.

‘Are you going to get that?’ Jaime asked. Dr Stark was staring at the ringing phone on her desk like she’d never heard it before, her eyes then flickering over to the door that led to the reception area.

‘Of course,’ she said, and after checking to make sure Jaime’s arm was okay, she rose, picking up the phone and answering in her professional voice.

‘Tyrion, hello. I hope this is a phone call to tell me you’re five minutes away...no. No, that will not do Mr Lannister. I can-not release your brother back into the world, even if you will only be a short while. No, he can’t stay here. I have other clients...I understand how bad you feel but that doesn’t change...alright. Very well. I am not impressed, Mr Lannister. One question; did you first ring through to the number online, or did you somehow get the extension for this office? Right. I see.’

When Dr Stark came back to her chair, her lips were pressed together so tightly Jaime could barely see them.

‘Is everything okay?’ Jaime asked, even though he knew it wasn’t. He didn’t have anything else to say. His brother wasn’t going to be here, and while they couldn’t really blame him for Tyrion’s meeting over running, he was the one who’d insisted they do this today.

‘I wouldn’t use the word okay, but the situation isn’t dire,’ Dr Stark said. ‘And, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know, that’s you almost done.’ As her words finished, the machine gave one loud last buzz before stopping completely. Dr Stark pushed away the screen she’d been watching, and carefully, so carefully, opened the side so that Jaime’s arm was exposed once again to the world.

It was a mess. Blood had pooled along the inside of the tray, and Jaime’s arm looked like nothing more than a scrap of raw bloody meat. Dr Stark was peering at it closely, although how she could make out anything was beyond Jaime. ‘And good news; I don’t think we’re going to need to take another layer off.’ She lifted his arm gently from the tray, lying it on a clean one on the table in front of him. His nerves still felt on fire, and even the tiniest movement made his body shudder. ‘The aftereffects should wear off by this evening, although your arm will still be sore,’ Dr Stark said. ‘Do not take the wrapping I give you today off for 72 hours, and even then it’s only to apply cream at night, do you understand? Brienne should have a care kit waiting for you outside with more bandages and some painkillers. Only take them if you feel the need, okay. They’re strong.’

‘Alright,’ Jaime said, although he really could have been agreeing to anything.

‘Here,’ Dr Stark said, and she handed him a sugary bottle of drink. ‘Drink all of that.’ He did, grateful that she’d handed it to him already opened so he wouldn’t have to move his left arm at all.

He drank half the bottle, surprised by how thirsty he was, and how good he felt. He could feel the caffeine and sugar already having an effect on his body. ‘Drink plenty of fluids this evening, although nothing alcoholic, and try to eat little and often.’ He nodded.

‘What was the phone call about?’ he asked. ‘The part at the end. Why did you ask if Tyrion had tried calling the office?’ She had her back to him, but Jaime could see her shoulders tense as he finished.

‘My office number is known by one person, and that’s Brienne. She’s the only person to put calls through to me. The only way external calls come through to my phone is if the reception phone isn’t answered. After five minutes.’

Five minutes was a long time for a phone not to be answered. Jaime dimly recalled a glass breaking sound from early on in his treatment – he'd put it to the back of his mind as the pain had wiped everything else away. What had happened?

‘Maybe she was in the toilet?’ Jaime suggested, because he didn’t want to think of any other possibilities.

‘Yes,’ Dr Stark said, although it was obvious she didn’t agree.

‘You should go and check,’ Jaime said.

‘No, I should stay here and take care of my client,’ she replied, but her hands had stilled over his arm.

‘Your client isn’t going to be well cared for until he knows your assistant is okay,’ he told her. ‘I can hold out for two minutes. I promise I won’t move from this spot.’

She was torn. Jaime’s health was her priority, but he wasn’t going anywhere. And if something had happened to Brienne...

‘I’ll be two minutes,’ Dr Stark warned, and then she was out the door before Jaime could respond. He heard her calling for Brienne, then another door opening and closing again.

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, making sure to finish the drink and stay as still as possible. What could have happened? His mind went to wild places, but the logical part of his mind was coming to back to him and he couldn’t see any of his ideas actually playing out. The place had medical equipment and medicine, sure, but nobody would rob it in broad daylight; and even if they did, Brienne would be able to hold her own.

‘She’s fine,’ Dr Stark said as she came back into the room, her face flushed. She’d grabbed cream on her way through the office, and a tubful of water which she placed on the table in front of Jaime, before carefully lowering his arm into it, and dripping water onto the bloody patch of skin with a dripping flannel. ‘She says she saw a spider, and it scared her; she jumped, and lashed out, right into a vase of flowers, which caught her arm and cut her. She was just dealing with all that in the bathroom. She feels very bad about it.’

‘Is Brienne scared of spiders?’ Jaime asked. The story felt off, even for him. There was usually a vase on the desk, next to Brienne, but it wasn’t that easy to reach from her chair.

‘Not in all the time I’ve known her,’ Dr Stark said. She was dabbing cream onto Jaime’s arm now, and it had to be some kind of healing medicine because the stinging sensation was ebbing and flowing and a feeling of relief was spreading though Jaime. ‘But the vase was broken on the floor, and there were several spots of blood leading through to the staff toilet.’ She chewed her bottom lip for a second. ‘And I can’t think what else it could be. I suppose if she just saw it out of the corner out her eye...Brienne would lash out first and think later. Someone once tried to mug her, and she punched him in the face. And she seemed okay. A bit pale, maybe. Anyway, she is fine. I need to take care of you now.’

So, Jaime sat in silence while Dr Stark worked on his arm. Her assistant wasn’t in any trouble, and Jaime knew that any questions he asked wouldn’t be answered. He just had to get through a few more minutes and then he would see for himself. He would be allowed out into the reception area, and Brienne would be there. Because she’d already missed a phone call, and left a mess and her boss had had to come and check for her; she wouldn’t miss any more work, no matter what.

When Dr Stark tapped him on the shoulder and told him he was all done, he stood up, carefully, feeling a little light headed. He needed to eat something. That would be his next port of call.

Dr Stark led him to the reception, and the first thing he saw was Brienne seated behind the desk. She was pale, that was true; Jaime had never noticed the light freckles that spread over her face before or how deep set her eyes were. He noticed that there was no blood or broken glass on the floor now; she’d cleaned up.

His eyes flew to her arm, surprised to see that her cuff was off and a bandage matching Jaime’s was wrapped around her left arm.

‘This is your care kit,’ Dr Stark said, handing him a small clear bag which contained furled bandages, a small tube of cream and a set of instructions for his after care, just in case it hadn’t already been drilled into him enough. ‘Use it. I’ll see you next week for your check-up appointment, and I swear Jaime if you haven’t even looked at it this time...’

‘I will,’ he promised. ‘If only because I can’t stand the pain.’

‘Here,’ Brienne said, and she shoved two small white pills across the table at him, along with a glass of water. ‘The painkillers are strong, but you are allowed them. They don’t thin the blood like some of the others.’ She was avoiding his eyes, Jaime realised. He took the pills in silence, watching as Brienne stood up, a little shakily and threw her bag over her shoulder. ‘Since your brother isn’t here, Dr Stark has requested that you remain in my care until he comes to collect you. We can’t stay here. I thought we’d go to Tarth’s. You like it there.’ She sounded almost like she was talking to herself, and she still wasn’t looking at him.

‘I do,’ Jaime replied. This was better than he could have hoped for. He’d been planning on calling her at the office just before she left for the evening and asking her to get a drink with him. He thought he’d be a little better off by this evening, and could probably make it to a pub and back with the help of an Uber.

This way, he didn’t have to wait. He had no chance to overthink, to wonder how she’d react, or if it was worth doing at all. The pain was still throbbing through him, so he couldn’t give his mind over to his anxiety. ‘But are you okay with this?’ The thought suddenly occurred to him. Brienne was holding herself stiffly, her right hand clenched as she held onto her bag strap.

‘We can’t let you go home without making sure you’ve been released into the care of another person,’ Brienne said. ‘And I have to leave the office anyway, on account of the next client.’ She hadn’t answered his question, but Jaime accepted it anyway, sliding his invoice into his pocket and gesturing for her to lead the way. She bid goodbye to Dr Stark and then left the building, leaving Jaime to trail behind her.

*

‘I’ve just had razors attacking my arm for forty-five minutes,’ Jaime said panting as he passed Brienne who was holding the door to Tarth’s open for him. ‘Could we really not have gone a little slower?’

‘Oh,’ Brienne said, like it was just dawning on her how fast she’d been going. ‘Sorry. Why didn’t you say something?’ Jaime shrugged as he stepped into Tarth’s. Brienne had walked so far ahead of him from the moment they’d left Dr Stark’s offices, and he didn’t have the energy to call out to her. He’d waited the entire time for her to turn around and check on him, but it hadn’t happened.

Jaime sat down in the first seat he came too, lowering himself gingerly into the seat, and watching as Brienne lined up to get the drinks. She was still holding herself rigid, and there was still no colour in her cheeks. Jaime, who wasn’t the biggest fan of spiders himself had never had an encounter with one that had left him tense and preoccupied.

No. There had to be something else going on here, another story that the bullshit she’d given to Dr Stark was supposed to have covered up. But what?

Brienne sat down, pushing the cup of plain coffee over to Jaime, and depositing sugar but no milk onto the table in front of him. Her hands were wrapped over her mug, and she seemed to crave the warmth the tea was giving her, even if she wasn’t drinking any. ‘I’ve ordered you some Krill-ly fries,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t remember what menu item you were on, but you need to eat.’

So she wasn’t so far gone that everything else had emptied from her mind.

‘Thank you,’ Jaime said, sipping his coffee. The heat was good. ‘For doing this. I know you probably have other things on your mind.’

Brienne’s gaze shot to his face, but it skittered away the moment she met his eyes, almost like she couldn’t bear to look at him.

But no. He was being paranoid. Things between them were fine. He was just feeling nervous because of the pain in his arm and his history. ‘I’m glad we could do this,’ he said. The waves sounded from the door, and Jaime turned in his seat to see a large group crowding into the café. A local nursey had obviously just let out; nannies and parents all with pushchairs held open the doors for the others coming behind them, and soon the quietness of Tarth’s had been replaced by the chatter of adults and the screams of children. Probably not the best place to ask a woman out, but he wasn’t about to chicken out now. ‘I wanted to talk to you about something,’ he said.

‘Oh? I need to speak to you too.’ Brienne said. She was now staring at the group behind them.

This was never going to work. He needed to warm her up first. ‘Sansa Stark’s soulmark,’ he said. It was the first thing that had come to his mind. ‘Dr Stark spoke to me about her children’s soulmarks, to try and distract me, and she told me about Sansa’s; about how her soulmate wasn’t a good man. How can that happen? Surely if the universe knows to protect people with their sexuality, or shameful love, it also knows not to pair sweet young women with monsters?’

He expected Brienne to launch into her speech about how no two soulmarks were the same, but she didn’t. For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to speak; and then she blinked and the words came.

‘There are theories. Some people believe that those who are paired with evil need to suffer at the hands to become the person they’re supposed to be; like enduring horrible events causes people to become stronger. It’s bullshit, of course,’ Brienne said, heat to her words. ‘People will become who’re they’re meant to be. They don’t need to suffer unspeakable acts.’

‘Okay,’ Jaime said. ‘What’s another theory?’

‘Nature vs nurture,’ Brienne said. ‘As I said before, souls are made from the same material, and want to find one with a similar make-up. But who you are, who you’re raised to be depend on a number of factors. Sansa’s soulmate; well. I don’t know much, just the bare facts but from what I gather he didn’t have the happiest homelife. His parents hated each other, and hated him. He was a cruel man because of the abuse he suffered from himself; I’m not trying to make excuses for him. I know people who have been raised in similar households and turned out nothing like him; but he let the anger turn inside him until he wanted to make everyone hurt like he did.’ Jaime’s thoughts went to Podrick Payne, and the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his family. Then he thought about his own soulmate, and the suffering he’d caused her.

Before he could go down that path, a shrill noise sounded from Jaime’s pocket, and he looked down in surprise. He’d been carrying his mobile around with him for a week now; in case Brienne needed to change his appointment or Tyrion needed him or...he fished the phone out, slightly unsure how to answer it. Unknown number. His stomach clenched, and he looked behind him, but there was no way he was going to be able to get out in the mess of people behind him.

‘Sorry, do you mind if...’ Brienne was already shaking her head, so he pressed at the little green button and hoped for the best.

‘Jaime Lannister speaking,’ he said, turning slightly away from Brienne. She was staring fixedly at the point on the wall, a little over Jaime’s shoulder.

‘It’s Bronn Blackwater,’ said a deep voice on the other end.

‘Mr Blackwater,’ Jaime said, surprised and relieved. ‘I’m surprised to hear from you. It’s been a while.’

‘I’ve got a lot of work,’ Bronn Blackwater said. ‘I get results for my clients; I’m not paid to hold your hand through the whole process.’

‘And?’ Jaime asked.

‘Ah, well. I don’t actually have any results for you. Nothing I can do I’m afraid. Sometimes you just don’t get what you want.’

‘Really?’ Jaime said, and he flicked a glance back at Brienne. All the colour had once again drained out of her.

‘Yeah. I put the photo you sent over into the database, but nothing matching came back. Dug a little deeper. There were some medical records, but it was for someone who was under eighteen and I couldn’t get into them. Now, if you were willing to offer a little extra money, I might be able -’

‘I’ll be in touch,’ Jaime said hurriedly, and then hung up the phone. He wouldn’t be paying for Bronn Blackwater to hack into somebody’s medical records.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket, ignoring the deep feeling of relief coursing through him. If the phone call had provided different news would he still be about to do what he was going to do? If Bronn had given him the name of his soulmate could he still ask out another woman?

‘Brienne,’ he said, calling her attention to him. She was still avoiding looking at his face. ‘I need to speak to you about something.’

‘Alright,’ she said. She placed her mug on the table, then folded her hands together on her lap.

How was he supposed to start this? He couldn’t just ask her out for a drink, or to get dinner. He had to make her see just how much he liked her, and that his feelings were serious. That nothing - his ex-lover, or his soulmate – was more important currently than Brienne herself was to him.

Most important thing first.

‘Brienne, you know I’ve never put much store by my soulmark -’. He was going to tell her that it had never been less important to him. That he would like to finish his treatment just to erase the damages, but to reassure her he was only looking for his soulmate because he needed to apologize to her. That he was planning on pulling an Olenna Tyrell, where he never put himself and his soulmate in the same place after that first encounter, that he was going to build a life for himself that didn’t include the person the world had marked out for him. Brienne had told him in their first meeting here that she believed soulmarks were two souls trying to find the same make-up. There would be someone else out there for his soulmate; for all he knew she might have already found him.

‘Don’t,’ Brienne said.

Jaime stopped.

‘What?’ he asked, stupidly. He saw Brienne take a steadying breath, and then she lifted her gaze to meet his.

‘I know what you’re about to say, and... don’t. Please. I don’t need to hear it. I don’t want to hear it.’

‘You know what I was going to speak to you about?’ he asked. This hadn’t gone the way he had expected it too. She hadn’t even let him get to his question.

Was he really that bad a prospect?

Or was there already a man in her life, a man who was angry and jealous and wouldn’t like his girlfriend being asked out by someone else?

‘I thought I could get through it,’ Brienne said. ‘But I can’t.’ Get though it? She’d been expecting to sit there while Jaime stumbled though his speech, telling her how much he liked her and that he wanted to see if they could be more, but even that was now unbearable?

‘Right,’ he said, sitting back in his chair. Could he demand an explanation? No. Probably not. She had made her choice, and however much he might not like it, he had to accept it. No meant no.

His heart felt like it was somewhere around his feet and now he was having trouble looking at her. At least it had given him a distraction; his arm was barely even stinging any more.

‘I have to go,’ Brienne said, jumping up from her seat, and spilling her untouched tea over the table. ‘Tyrion’s outside. I text him from the office before we left to tell him where he could collect you from. I’ll see you next week Mr Lannister, please do call if you have any issues with the...the arm.’ She strode away from him then, fighting her way through the crowd still behind them. Jaime squinted out of the tiny patch of door he could see through; sure enough, there was Tyrion getting out of a Taxi. He waved at Brienne as she walked past him, but Jaime couldn’t see if she waved back or ignored him.

Well. That was that. He slumped back in his seat, waiting for Tyrion to come and get him.

His therapy session really would be interesting this week.

Chapter Text

‘It’ll be fine,’ Tyrion said as Jaime pulled up opposite Dr Stark’s office. He hadn’t wanted to park far away. The last of the summer weather had given over to rainstorms, and it was coming down something rotten today. The streets were packed with car headlights and people hurrying to the nearest dry destination, even this early in the afternoon. ‘I mean she can’t reject you twice, can she?’

Jaime shot a glare at his brother, as they both made a dash for the outside, opening umbrellas and rushing to the other side of the road. Tyrion struggled a little; he’d insisted on bringing a giant bouquet of flowers to the offices, as an apology for letting them down last week. And for forgetting to give Jaime the creams the week he’d promised to do it. Jaime hadn’t thought the flowers necessary, but Tyrion was nothing if not a charmer, so Jaime hadn’t fought him too hard on it. ‘What did your therapist say?’ Tyrion shouted over the rain, as they huddled together on the top step of the building, shaking their umbrella’s out. It probably hadn’t been worth opening them for such a short distance, but Jaime hadn’t much fancied dripping all over the pale waxed floor. (Or looking like a drowned rat. It wasn’t like he’d spent much time on his appearance this morning. Only thirty minutes to sort his hair out. And another twenty to choose a shirt. He’d only stopped in the end because he’d been debating calling Tyrion about his choices and could only image his brother’s reaction.)

‘They said that her saying no was probably more to do with her than with me,’ Jaime answered Tyrion. ‘That maybe she is back together with her boyfriend, or maybe she was uncomfortable; that it sounded as though she’d had a shock just before I asked her, and I probably hadn’t chosen the best moment to approach the subject; that she sounded like someone who liked to keep her professional and personal life separate except in extreme circumstances and the colliding of the two worlds might have been a bit much for her.’ His therapist had also told Jaime that he could ask for an explanation if he really needed one, but he also had to accept it if Brienne didn’t want to give one to him.

‘All excellent reasons,’ Tyrion said, trying to sort out a few rain speckled petals on his flowers.

‘I suppose,’ Jaime said, although hearing them hadn’t made his rejection any better. Even now, just thinking about that moment last week made his stomach clench with nerves. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing her today; but he didn’t have a choice. And it was just a checkup. In and out in five minutes. And Tyrion had come along for moral support, and they were going to Jaime’s favourite restaurant for lunch afterwards, where they planned to spend most of the rest of the afternoon gorging themselves on expensive steak and wine. Work was finally starting to get better, the nightmare from last week a distant memory.

And Jaime had finally spoken to his father about his appointments here. Or, at least, Tywin Lannister had walked into Jaime’s office, pointed to Dr Stark’s information on the credit card bill, and said, ‘you’re finally getting that soulmark of yours sorted then? Good,’ and then left. (Jaime hadn't even known his father knew his soulmark was damaged but he'd forgotten about Tywin's spies. All it would have taken is one peek from someone in a rare moment when Jaime let his arm breathe or he'd spilled something on his bandage and it needed changing, and his father would have heard about it.)

An excellent week that deserved to be celebrated by all accounts, except for the two-minute memory of last Thursday that had replayed in Jaime’s head almost constantly since Tyrion had dropped him home last week. She hadn’t even let him speak! She assumed she knew what he wanted to ask her, but what if he had changed his mind at the last minute and had just wanted to know something else about soulmarks? He still had a few questions that he hadn’t been able to ask; could an unrequited soulmark ever turn into a true soulmark? What did Brienne think was going on with Arya Stark’s soulmark that her mother was sure was building up detail every few weeks? How did Brienne feel about her father’s unperfect soulmarks?

He’d spent most of his evenings watching the rest of the films she’d given him, but none of them had touched on those subjects, and he hadn’t really been concentrating. Two characters who met while working as servants in a mansion but didn’t discover their matching soulmarks until years later and wondered who they could possibly belong to had Jaime searching every inch of his body in the hope that he’d missed a small one that had been there for weeks. (There hadn't been). Then there had been a film about young men who all got soulmarks matching their Queen and knew their love and loyalty would always be to their country and their ruler. And finally a documentary about people who had matching soulmarks with an abuser; they’d interviewed a young woman with long dark hair, and a soulmark of a pack of dogs running across her chest bone, about the man she’d loved for years, who’d turned out to be a serial killer, kidnapping young girls and torturing them for his amusement. The woman had cried, and spoken about the mental anguish the whole experience had caused her, and they’d done a full deep dive into the history of the man and how he’d always felt unloved by his father who’d had him out of wedlock. Jaime thought about Brienne’s nature vs nurture debate and wondered if there was another universe out there where the man had grown up loved, and cherished and turned into a man this girl could and should have loved.

Had Jaime turned into the person his soulmate was supposed to fall in love with? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t imagine that the universe had ever seen a relationship with his twin sister on the cards, and that had shaped his life, more than he’d ever cared to admit. Would this person meant for him love him when they found that out?

‘As hard as I’m sure this is for you, I refuse to get any more water logged,’ Tyrion said, and he pushed his way inside the offices. Jaime had no choice but to follow him, holding the door open as his brother struggled with his bouquet.

‘Ladies,’ he heard Tyrion say, and he looked up, surprised to see both Brienne and Dr Stark standing at the desk. ‘Please accept with my humblest apologies. What happened last week was an error on my part and I take full responsibility. My brother’s health should have come first and you should never had had to put your business at risk.’ He presented the flowers to Dr Stark herself, who looked a bit bemused, but took them off him anyway.

‘Thank you for that, Tyrion,’ Dr Stark said. ‘These are beautiful.’ She laid the arrangement on the desk, stroking the petals on a pale purple flower. ‘But the apology would have been sufficient enough.’

Jaime counted to five, then raised his head, and looked at Brienne. She was determinedly not looking at him, but her red cheeks gave her away. She was clutching her left arm, which Jaime was glad to see was back in the cuff instead of the bandage from last week. Not a serious injury then.

The memory of her leaving the café, of her begging him not to continue with his speech rushed to the front of his mind, and he did his best to ignore it. She didn’t want to date him, and that was fine; and they had never had soulmarks, unrequited or unperfect or otherwise so they were obviously not meant to be. That was fine. Like the big boy he was, Jaime would get over it.

Even as his heart lurched in his chest as he looked at her, and it took everything within him not to fall to his knees and beg her to explain herself. The conversation between Dr Stark and Tyrion petered out, and the four of them stood around, none of them knowing what to say. Jaime wondered how much Dr Stark knew. From the way she was looking between Brienne and Jaime, with a questioning look on her face, Jaime would say not much.

‘Mr Lannister,’ Brienne said eventually, breaking the tension. They were back to Mr Lannister, were they? How nice. ‘You look well.’ She took her seat, and clicked around on her laptop.

‘Thank you,’ Jaime said, moving to stand on the other side of the desk. Tyrion settled himself onto the sofa. ‘So do you.’ The words were a lie; there were bags under Brienne’s eyes, purple and bruised looking, and she seemed to have lost a little bit of weight in the week that had passed.

That was nothing to do with him. Right?

‘I don’t, but thank you for saying so anyway,’ Brienne said, and there was a forced lightness in her voice, but a gap between each of her words. ‘It’s been a stressful week.’

‘Nothing too bad, I hope,’ Jaime said, but his concern had skyrocketed. Was she alright? Was he even allowed to care about her that way anymore? She didn’t want to let him any further into her life, so he’d have to trust that the people already there – Dr Stark, her father, Margaery and now Pod to an extent, and he guessed Renly too – were looking out for her. ‘I mean,’ he said inserting a joke because it was all he knew how to do, ‘you haven’t had to recover from The Shaving.’ He shook his shirt sleeve over his left arm, but the wound was still tightly wrapped from where Jaime had done it last night. He’d kept to his treatment this week, mainly because he’d been curious to see how his soulmark looked now. True to what Dt Stark had told him, the top two layers of skin seemed to have grown back within the 72 hours Jaime hadn’t been allowed to open his bandages. He knew Dr Stark had sprayed his wound with something before she’d wrapped him up last week, some kind of plaster sealant that would have dissolved into his skin once the blood had clotted and he was no longer in danger of bleeding continuously.

‘I...what?’ Brienne looked at him then for the first time since he’d entered. He felt her gaze scan his expression, saw the frown on her face.

‘The Shaving,’ Jaime repeated, but now he himself was confused. ‘You know, that treatment I underwent last week? Four layers of skin scrapped off. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced.’ He almost wanted to add ‘apart from when you begged me not to ask you out, ten minutes later,’ but he stopped himself. That was overdramatic, even for him. Brienne hadn’t broken his heart.

If he told himself that enough, he might eventually start to believe it.

‘Yes, I know you had The Shaving last week,’ Brienne said. ‘But I thought...’ she trailed off, her frown growing deeper. ‘Were you joking?’

‘About what?’ Jaime asked. In desperation he looked for Dr Stark and Tyrion for help but they both wore blank expressions; neither of them knew what Brienne was talking about either.

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Absolutely nothing.’ And then she was back to not looking at him. Jaime threw her a worried look over her shoulder, as he made his way towards Dr Stark’s office door. He knew Dr Stark had a very strict schedule to stick to, and that he couldn’t over run another of his appointments; but he couldn’t deny that a very large part of him wanted to stay in the reception, talking to Brienne until she made sense again.

He shut the door behind him, and made his way over to his usual seat at Dr Stark’s desk, lying his arm on the table. He knew the drill by now. His arm would be examined, and it had looked okay to him last night; no infections or blood blisters or any of the other signs he’d been told to look out for. Which meant he could spend the next few minutes talking to Dr Stark about something actually important.

‘What’s wrong with Brienne?’ he asked. Dr Stark was unwrapping the bandages from his arm. ‘It wasn’t just me, right? She seemed weird.’

‘I have to agree,’ Dr Stark said, and Jaime knew she was fighting though all her layers of friendship and confidentiality to speak to him like this. Her concern for Brienne was overriding everything. ‘I was rather hoping you could shed some light on the situation. She was perfectly fine, or as fine as she’s been these past few months, last week. Then that incident with the spider happened, and when she came back after client 194 had left last week she was on autopilot. She answered the phones, and gave people their invoices and brought me coffee and helped me lock up but she was quiet, and left as soon as we had finished. And the same on Friday.’ The bandages fell away from Jaime’s arm, and he sighed a little at the cool breeze across his skin. He didn’t know how Brienne kept her cuff on for all hours of the day. No wonder the underneath itched sometimes.

‘I might be able to shed a little light,’ Jaime said. If it would help them get to the bottom of Brienne’s weird behaviour, people learning about his rejection would be worth it. ‘Last week, when we went to Tarth’s...I attempted to ask her out. Needless to say, it did not go well.’

‘You asked her out?’ Dr Stark asked. ‘And she said no?’ His arm was sitting heavy in her hands, but she wasn’t paying it any attention.

‘She begged me not to,’ Jaime admitted and now he felt a little warm around the cheeks. ‘I got to the end of my first sentence and she told me ‘don’t’. I don’t think there’s any mistaking that.’

‘But I thought -,’ Dr Stark stopped herself there, before sighing and deciding that if she was already this far in, she might as well continue. ‘I would have said, if asked, that she liked you. I haven’t seen her like this...well, ever to be truthful. For a while I did wonder about her and that Pod boy, but he was little too young for her and I knew it would just be a friendship that bloomed. I wanted to ask, actually.’ She cleared her throat. ‘A soulmark hasn’t appeared on you has it?’

‘No,’ Jaime said, feeling the bitter taste at the back of his throat. ‘And believe me. I’ve checked. Just this thing, I’m afraid.’ He stared at his soulmark, still a little hard to see though the bruise that had formed on his arm and felt a hatred like he hadn’t for years swell within him. If it wasn’t for soulmarks...but then, if it wasn’t for soulmarks, he probably never would have met Brienne in the first place. Their paths had no other reason to cross. ‘I did wonder about the ex-boyfriend? If he was back in her life? Margaery mentioned him once, that he was a little jealous. If he was back on the scene...’ but he couldn’t finish that sentence. He couldn’t imagine Brienne putting up with anybody’s shit.

‘No,’ Dr Stark said, and now she was looking at Jaime’s soulmark, turning it this way and that, and running cool fingers over it. There was another pot of cream on the desk next to her, and another care package. Jaime would keep the soulmark wrapped for another week apart from the night cream. ‘I always got the impression that Tormund was more of a mistaken one-night stand that Brienne just hadn’t known how to get out of. And from what I've heard, he might have been jealous, but he worshipped the ground Brienne walked on. She seemed uncomfortable whenever she spoke about it, to tell the truth. I don’t think she’d ever get back with him.’

‘And there’s nothing else you can think of, why she’s been acting this way?’ Jaime asked.

‘No,’ Dr Stark said, but she paused. ‘Unless...well. I’m sure you’ve worked out by now that Brienne’s soulmark has been damaged. Her lies were good enough that it took me a while to realise that’s what she was doing, but you can’t hide it from a Pellisanima forever.’ Jaime thought of a bridge on Brienne’s foot, the one that Renly had mentioned. ‘I think it was pretty bad. And I wonder...’

‘If it’s being damaged again,’ Jaime said. It would make sense. If someone was intent on carving their soulmark from their body they weren’t going to just stop. ‘But why wouldn’t she get a skin graft? And could she hide that, do you think? A damage being caused must be painful.’ It would explain the blood on the floor last week. Jaime hadn’t noticed what shoes she’d been wearing but if she’d taken her sock off to have a look, and then seen the bleeding...it could go some way to explaining.

‘You’re probably right,’ Dr Stark said, and Jaime knew by the briskness in her tone that this conversation was over. ‘If Brienne wants to talk about it, then she will. And until then, we have no right to discuss her.’

‘Of course,’ Jaime said, and he shivered as she applied the cold cream to his arm before launching into the next week’s care.

*

Ten minutes later Jaime was back in the reception, taking his invoice from the desk, and walking in on Brienne and Tyrion having what looked like an intense discussion.

‘What’s going on here?’ he asked, eyes swivelling between the two. Friends, he reminded himself. That was all they were.

‘We were just talking about Tyrion’s soulmark,’ Brienne said. ‘His new...’ Jaime caught Tyrion shaking his head, and almost missed the slight hiccup in Brienne’s words. ‘His new theory.’

‘Oh?’ Jaime asked. ‘What new theory is this?’

‘You explain it better than I could,’ Brienne said quickly. Jaime almost thought he saw his brother flash Brienne the finger, and Brienne’s mouth lift up at the edge; but no. Both things had gone before Jaime could pinpoint them.

‘Just that sometimes they take a little longer to show up than people expect,’ Tyrion said. ‘But that one must never stop hoping.’

‘That’s your theory?’

‘Yep.’ Tyrion hopped off the couch. ‘Goodbye Brienne. No doubt I’ll see you soon.’

‘Goodbye Tyrion,’ she called out. ‘Goodbye, Jaime,’ she said, and Jaime wanted to make a big deal out of it; but he couldn’t.

‘I’ll see you next week,’ he told her instead, following his brother back out into the rain storm. The weather had not let up, and Jaime dashed to his car, a little less caring about his hair getting messed up now.

‘Were you really talking about a new theory?’ Jaime asked, as him and Tyrion got themselves adjusted in the car. Jaime decided to put the heater on for a few minutes; they still had half an hour to go until their reservation.

And anyway. The talk about Tyrion’s soulmark had brought a theory of his own to Jaime’s mind.

‘Along those lines,’ Tyrion said, clicking his seatbelt into place. ‘Jaime?’ he asked, when the car still sat in the parking space. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘When did you know?’ Jaime asked. ‘About Tysha? And what we did to her?’ The idea had been brewing for a while in Jaime’s head. When he’d learned about skin grafts, the final puzzle piece had slotted into place, but he hadn’t spoken to Tyrion about it, because he hadn’t wanted to.

‘The moment it happened,’ Tyrion said. ‘She called me the second father left her, crying and shaking at the flat we’d hidden her in. I was foolish to believe that nobody would find her there; even more so that father would be happy for me. I should have known.’ His voice was tinged with a long-held bitterness. ‘Father demanded that she get a skin graft; but he would only pay for a cheap one. He told her that if she said anything to me he would make her family pay. She found the bug he planted, and left the flat to call me from a pay phone. We agreed that she’d get the graft, play along as it were, and then we’d leave.’ Tyrion swallowed. ‘Neither of us knew that father had gotten to you. When you showed up, spouting his stories, I was surprised. I was hurt. But I played along, and so did she, because I knew if you didn’t make good on your promise father would take away something you loved, too. We discovered the soulmarks one evening when a candle I was moving dripped on me after a love making session. She yelped from the bathroom, and I ran to her, and we found them.’ A sad smile lit Tyrion’s face as the memories from years ago flashed back to him.

‘You were going to leave us,’ Jaime said. ‘For Tysha.’

‘Yes,’ Tyrion said. ‘That was the plan. To go far, far away, where nobody would find us. We were young, and I’d been saving for a rainy day.’ He gestured to the weather outside the windows.

‘What made you stay?’ To give up on a soulmate you’d never met, who’d you’d spent most of your life hating anyway was one thing; to give up on the person you loved, Jaime assumed, was quite another.

‘You,’ Tyrion said. ‘I worked out that father had threatened to take Cersei away, and I realised what it meant, and how far gone you were. And I couldn’t leave you with nobody to protect you. I begged Tysha to give me some time, just to get you out from under Cersei; but she didn’t understand how I could want to help you, not after what you’d done to us. She packed a bag and left without me two days later. I never heard from her again.’

‘You shouldn’t have stayed. Not for me,’ Jaime said. He didn’t want to say that Tyrion had failed in his plan; Jaime and Cersei had stayed together for much longer.

‘I know,’ Tyrion said. ‘I was mad at you for the longest time. But you’re my family, the only one I’ve ever truly loved. And you made that house not so bad to grow up in. You were my protector, and I needed to repay the favour. Even if it didn’t go as well as I hoped.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jaime said, because there was nothing else to say.

‘Yes,’ Tyrion said. ‘Me too.’

For a few more moments they sat in silence, years of memories stretching between them. And then Jaime started the car, and they drove away, each lost in their own thoughts.

Chapter Text

Hello Brienne, how are you? No pressure at all and you really don’t need to, but could you provide me with an answer as to why you didn’t want to go out with me? So that I can assure all the fears you may have? What do you mean because of the sexual relationship I had with my twin sister, ha-ha, where ever did you get that idea from?

That wasn’t quite the speech that Jaime was going to give to Brienne this afternoon, but he hadn’t come up with anything better during the week, and his therapist hadn’t been much help either. And Jaime wasn’t actually going to lie to Brienne and try and pretend that him and Cersei had never happened – there was no point. He supposed he agreed with his therapist, that any future relationship he did have would have to include a talk about his sister. (Although he knew that his therapist had been hinting at Jaime talking to his soulmate about the damages and why they’d been caused. His therapist was great, they were, but Jaime had begun to realise, that just like most people, they believed that soulmarks were truly a lead in to a happily ever after.)

Jaime had walked to the offices today, needing to burn off the nervous energy that had buzzed through his body since he’d decided to talk to Brienne about why she’d rejected him. Dr Stark had said that she didn’t think Tormund was the issue; so there was no jealous boyfriend waiting in the wings. Jaime had now heard several things from different people that had led him to believe that Brienne herself had a damaged soulmark, and she had told him in her own words that she wouldn’t want to be with that person; so it wasn’t like she was a purist, just waiting for her knight in shining amour to walk into her life.

Which meant it had to be something to do with Jaime himself. And, while he knew his ego could use a healthy dose of reality every now and again, he was pretty sure he hadn’t imagined her interest in him. The way she smiled sometimes, only quickly like she got annoyed at herself for letting him break beneath her defences. The faint blushes he’d started to notice that spread over her cheeks whenever he entered the building for his next appointment. He thought he’d wormed a place for himself somewhere inside her.

Brienne had issues. Jaime thought they probably weren’t quite as deep run as his were, but having your colleagues bet on who could sleep with you, having an unrequited soulmark for a friend on your chest and then working for him had to leave their unseen scars. If she was just scared, or worried, then Jaime could reassure her. He could make her see how good they could be together; he’d never felt surer of anything in his life.

He pushed his way into the lobby of the building, the lavender scent soothing him a little, the panpipes just getting on his nerves – but whatever speech was about to spill out of his mouth died on his lips as he saw, not Brienne’s tall form sitting at the desk, but the red hair of Sansa Stark.

‘Jaime,’ she said, looking up at him, before scanning the door he’d just come through. ‘You look well. Is it just you today?’

He blinked, wondering if when he reopened his eyes Brienne would be sitting where she belonged. No luck. ‘Jaime?’

‘Yes. Yes, sorry,’ he said, moving away from the door. ‘Thank you, you look well too.’ The memory of his last conversation with Brienne floated through his mind. ‘And yes, it’s just me today. I wasn’t supposed to bring anyone with me, was he?’ Suddenly he felt panicked. He’d done so much research before he’d started this process that he’d just kind of relied on his memory for all these weeks. He hadn’t thought he needed anyone with him today, but he’d had a lot of other things on his mind recently.

‘No, no,’ Sansa said. ‘Just curious is all.’ There was a flash of disappointment, but then the professional smile was back on her face. ‘How’s treatment going? Mum says I’m not allowed to ask, but I don’t see why not. Isn’t the point of coming here to show your soulmark to the world, to find the one you’re supposed to be with?’

‘I guess,’ Jaime replied, smiling. Yes, the whole confidentiality subject was taken a little seriously here, he could see that now. Then he thought back to his first few weeks here. He hadn’t wanted anybody to know what he was doing. Had thought about those watching him from windows in the buildings opposite. He’d been terrified of someone finding out what he was doing, terrified about talking about his soulmark. What would people think about him, coming to fix a damaged soulmark? ‘The treatment’s going well; or at least your mother hasn’t said if it isn’t.’ He was still applying the cream every evening, taking almost twenty minutes now just to marvel at his arm. He’d known that the further they got into the treatment, the more his soulmark would start to appear again. Soulmarks, as Brienne had told him, had a way of showing up on your skin, again and again, pushing though the layers until they were the most prominent thing on your body. It was only because of Jaime and Cersei’s intent to destroy his that had clouded it with damages. The colouring on his arm was a little grey, and still a little bruised from the Shaving, but the pigmentation would be sorted today and the bruising would fade. A few of the lines of his soulmark appeared a little faded, but Dr Stark had that planned in for next week, and even if she hadn’t Jaime knew the lines would come back on their own in a few years.

There was the small burn scar on his arm, just at the top, covering the sun and moon; Jaime still hadn’t mentioned it to Dr Stark, but he would put that right today. Since he still wasn’t thinking of his soulmate as a viable option, he didn’t need to keep anything a secret to prove a match was correct. It was interesting he thought; the sun and moon had never strayed through the burn scar, staying buried underneath for all these years. He’d have to ask Brienne about that – surely there was some reason that symbol had stayed hidden?

That was if he was ever in the same room as Brienne again. ‘Tell me Sansa, is everything okay with Brienne? Another holiday?’ He kept his voice light, leaning on the counter so he could lean a little further and stare into her eyes. His eyes were a sparkling emerald green and he always received compliments about them. He didn’t use his powers of charm much, and he wasn’t proud that he was turning it on today; but Sansa had already proved herself to be a weak link. She wasn’t as guarded as her mother, and he could only hope his attempts at semi-flirting would lower her defences more, and let information slip through.

Instead, Sansa smiled at him, her gaze distracted, not even paying him any attention. ‘Brienne came down with a sickness bug last night. She’s alright now, but as this is technically a medical facility, she’s not allowed back for 24 hours after her last bout of sickness.’

‘Right,’ Jaime said, moving back a little from Sansa. He couldn’t help but worry; the idea of Brienne sick made his concern skyrocket, even though he knew she was perfectly capable of looking after herself. There was nothing he could do anyway; he didn’t have her address to send her soup (and he wasn’t even sure if she ate soup.) The truth was, Jaime still knew very little about Brienne Tarth, and it seemed like the universe was trying to tell him that was all he would ever know.

But screw the universe. The universe had also made who Jaime thought was the love of his life his twin sister, and he hadn’t let that stop him.

‘And how’s your brother?’ Sansa asked, the words seeming a little halted. ‘Tyrion, wasn’t it? Is he okay? Mum said there was a crisis with your business and he had to deal with everything. I hope nothing too bad happened?’ There was a light dusting of pink across her pale cheeks, and Jaime gave it one second of thought before he was consumed by Brienne again. He was trying to tell himself it was just because he was standing in this lobby where Brienne’s presence was everywhere, and not that he was so far gone, but the words sounded feeble even in his own head.

‘Tyrion’s fine,’ Jaime said. ‘There was a tricky situation but he handled it as well as could be.’ In truth, Jaime had assumed it had all been handled. There had been one meeting where the whole situation had been explained, and Tyrion had told the most important people what they needed to know; and then nothing had been mentioned again. Jaime had gone back to the offices, and his job, and Tyrion had returned too.

Which reminded Jaime. His father liked him and Tyrion to do at least two days of work in Lannister’s each month, just to remind them of where they came from. Tywin was fond of saying that the big bosses couldn’t know if there was anything wrong with their business unless they were down on the ground now and again too. Which was hysterical, because to Jaime’s knowledge Tywin had never spent a day as a shop assistant in his life. But it was enforced for Jaime and Tyrion, and Jaime had been lacking this month. He’d need to do his two days soon before his father called him. (Cersei was excused from the shop work, as she no longer worked for the business. She’d worked at Lannisters twice in her life; once at 16, and once at 23. Both times had ended in exploding rows between her and Tywin as Cersei tried to implement changes to the shop that Tywin disagreed with. She’d left and found other ways to make money over the years, although Jaime still struggled to say what it was she’d actually spent the time doing.)

‘That’s good,’ Sansa said, and she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. ‘Will he be coming to pick you up today?’

‘No,’ Jaime said, and he settled into the sofa, slouching forward, with his head in his hands. ‘Just me today.’

Silence hummed in the small lobby, Jaime checking his watch every few minutes. He‘d arrived a little earlier for his appointment today, hoping for the chance to speak to Brienne, but now he had no way to fill his time. He was still carrying his phone around with him, the unfamiliar weight in his jeans pocket, and he knew there was a whole world within the small object; but he couldn't be bothered to go and set it all up. Tyrion had shown him all the social media apps a few years ago, but Jaime hadn’t been interested. The temptation to pour over Cersei’s photos, and thoughts, and life had been too much.

He supposed now there was a new temptation for him; Brienne. Would she be online? He assumed so. She was younger than Jaime, at least eight years he’d estimate, (was that it? Was he too old for Brienne? Did she view him as more of an older brother, a replacement for the ‘Gal’ that Selwyn had once mentioned? No. Jaime didn’t think that was why she’d refused to go out with him.) Even if she’d just set up an account because it was the fashion at the time, she’d still be somewhere on there wouldn’t she?

But where to start? He might have to ask Tyrion to show him again.

‘That’s a shame about Brienne,’ Jaime said, his voice surprising even himself. ‘I hope she’s alright?’

‘Oh, yes, I think so,’ Sansa said. ‘At least Mum didn’t say it was anything too bad. Brienne called her last night so she could get me in today. She seemed to be over the worst of things, but as I said; its better not to risk it.’ They shared a smile, although Jaime wondered if Sansa could see the fakeness in his. ‘I hope your brother is okay. It sounds as though he’s had quite a stressful time.’

‘Hmm?’ Jaime barely registered her words. ‘Oh, yes, Tyrion. He’s fine.’ He shrugged. ‘Tyrion is always fine, or at least he always pretends to be. You don’t know him, but if anything is too much, he’ll drown his sorrows in women and drink and be back to normal within a few weeks.’

‘Oh,’ Sansa said, and she pulled the strand of her hair taunt. ‘Does he drown his sorrows in women a lot?’

‘Not as often as he used to,’ Jaime admitted. The details of Tyrion’s dating life were best left in the past, and in Tyrion’s bedroom. Jaime had been so wrapped up in Cersei, he hadn’t really noted what his brother was doing; and he supposed, he felt guilty. Jaime had played his part in Tyrion’s love life being what it was; if Tyrion wanted to have a little fun who was Jaime to stop him. ‘His main passion now is travelling and reading.’ Jaime gave a little bark of laughter. ‘The travelling came about because of his passion for women. He used to whisk them off for luxurious getaways, places where the family couldn’t get to them for a weekend at least. Then he became more interested in the places he was going to then the women he was taking, and he’s travelled ever since.’

‘And, what kind of women was Tyrion taking to these places?’ Sansa asked. She was biting her bottom lip, the faint blush still on her cheeks, and staring down at her phone although Jaime doubted she was looking at anything.

‘Oh, anyone who would have him,’ Jaime answered. The conversation had reminded him of Brienne’s travels. Could Jaime pretend to take up an interest in sailing and go to the next contest she entered? A boat wouldn’t be that much money; both Tywin and Tyrion had purchased one in the past. And Jaime could always hire a crew to enter the contest for him; he could be a viewer, one of the ones who strolled along the docks, admiring the boats, with a vested interest in one. He tried to picture just casually bumping into Brienne in a year or so, feigning surprise. He could take outfit inspiration for Selwyn. ‘I don’t suppose you remembered where Brienne’s sailing contest was held do you?’ He hurried a lie onto the end, not wanting Sansa to know how bad his obsession was getting. ‘I had a friend who entered one as well. and was curious to know if their paths might have crossed.’

‘Sorry, I don’t,’ Sansa said. They lapsed back into silence, Sansa back to tossing paper balls into the bin by the office door. She’d gotten a lot better as it since last time, most of them hitting the target today.

‘So, Brienne,’ Jaime said.

‘So, Tyrion,’ Sansa said, aiming one last ball into the bin and missing. Each of them gave an awkward laugh, and then waited for the other to finish. Jaime, who hadn’t even known where his sentence was going to lead him, had just wanted to talk more about the other assistant, gestured for Sansa to go first.

‘I was just going to say how helpful he was,’ Sansa said. ‘Mum would kill me for telling you this, but I knew she was worried about you. If you don’t take the aftercare seriously, the soulmark can get infected and lead to all sorts of other issues. But a few weeks ago she mentioned that she might start asking client’s friends and families to help out with the aftermath a bit more, and I know it was because she asked Tyrion to help you.’

‘Oh, yes, I suppose,’ Jaime said. Tyrion had ordered the creams. And he probably would have forced Jaime to apply them every night if he hadn’t been out of the country. ‘It’s a good idea.’

‘I should get that,’ Sansa said, gesturing to the paper ball that had missed the bin. She stood, smoothing her skirt over her legs, then walked to where the ball had rolled to, crouching down on her legs. Jaime gazed at her back, noticing she was covering her soulmarks today.

Then she swept her curtain of red hair from her back, exposing both the lion’s face that Jaime had seen a few weeks ago, and a brand new one that was so beautiful Jaime couldn’t help but stare at it. It looked like a charcoal drawing of a crown, made from different shades of grey. A small dagger was stabbed through the middle, and there was a ruby glinting in the top, and tiny little brightly coloured flowers seemed to rain down starting from the back of Sansa’s neck, down to where her dress cut the image off.

It was perfect. No unbroken lines, or missing objects or parts that hadn’t been finished.

‘Wow,’ Jaime breathed. He couldn’t help it. He knew soulmarks weren’t ever ugly, although some weren’t to everyone’s taste, but this was stunning. For the first time he thought he could understand why people had their soulmarks framed and hung in their houses. If he had this soulmark, he’d want to be able to look at it all the time. ‘That’s new,’ he said, pointing to her back as Sansa turned to face him.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I can’t say for sure when it appeared, because I only noticed it a week ago. But I have my suspicions about who it could match with. You wouldn’t happen to know, would you?’

‘Me?’ Jaime asked blankly, before a horrible thought occurred to him. ‘No!’ he said. He stood, taking a couple of steps back from Sansa. She couldn’t mean...him? That was ridiculous. Stupid. Horrible. (Although wouldn’t that be the ultimate joke? He was so desperate to share a soulmark with Brienne, and a random one popped up on him!)

Except...no. No. He was fine. He’d checked his body after last Thursday’s appointment, in another vain hope that him and Brienne were meant to be, and he would have seen an image that big sprout on him. And he hadn’t seen Sansa since the week before last so if he had been a match it would definitely have appeared before last week. Yes. He was fine.

‘No?’ Sansa asked. ‘I was hoping...’ she sighed wistfully and Jaime retreated a few more steps, taking him back to the front door. He understood. He was good looking and rich and older and him and Sansa had exchanged a friendly conversation. It was a good start to a soulmate story.

‘I’m sorry?’ he said, but it sounded more like a question. He watched as Sansa made her way back behind the desk, propping her chin in her hands and looking downcast. This would be a great time for Dr Stark to call him into the office, but when nothing had happened after a full minute Jaime knew he was going to have to live through this.

Was that what all the talk about Tyrion had been? Sansa trying to make small talk, to show Jaime that she was caring and understanding and already knew his family?

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the last few minutes from his mind, and remembered a task he needed to perform today, and a great way to change the subject.

‘Sansa, since you’re the assistant today, I need you to do me a favour,’ he said, reaching into his pocket for the card he’d brought.

‘Okay,’ Sansa said.

‘Here,’ he slid the card across the desk at her, watching as she read the information on it, and her expression cleared. ‘My brother has actually had to change his mobile number. Something about a stalker from a year ago, I’m not really sure of the details, but if you could please update his details in my file, that would be great.’ He smiled at her to show there were no hard feelings. So she’d thought he was her soulmate. It was an honest mistake. And he wasn’t. So no harm done. She would eventually find her match and Jaime would never enter her mind again.

‘Oh,’ she said as a small beep sounded from her left-hand side, and Jaime knew it was his cue to go in. She took the card he’d handed her, an exact copy of the one he’d handed Brienne on his first appointment except for a changed phone number, holding it between her thumb and index finger. ‘I can do that.’

Chapter Text

Alright, it hadn’t been the most mature move that Jaime could have made. But he hadn’t let himself overthink before he’d put his plan into action this morning, and it had all worked out so really there was nothing to be upset about. Brienne hadn’t even known it had been him calling.

Because he’d had Pia do it instead.

Since last week Jaime had been consumed with a way to find out if Brienne was going to be at his appointment today. He was desperate to talk to her, and as the week had gone on, he’d found it hard to shake the feeling that she’d actually come down sick on his appointment day. She was avoiding him, and if that was the case Jaime wasn’t sure he could take it. Was he really that bad that she’d rather fake an illness than deal with him for ten minutes?

So he’d had Pia call Dr Stark’s offices this morning, from a random staff member’s mobile phone and make enquires about a fictional client who was considering getting a small wound to his soulmark fixed. (Or at least that had been the plan. As soon as Brienne had picked up the phone, Jaime had hissed at Pia to hang up, and she’d done so, jumping like a frightened rabbit, and then staring at Jaime with big eyes. She probably thought he was going mad, and if he was being honest, Jaime was wondering that himself.) He’d finally told Pia that he’d been going to get his soulmark fixed and she’d done nothing but clap and say how happy she was for him because he deserved love.

Brienne was at work today, Jaime now knew that. Which meant in two minutes time when he saw her, he’d have to come up with something to say and a way to act. He‘d thought through what seemed like 1,000 different ways to greet her, but none of them seemed good enough, or right enough or real enough. He couldn’t do what he’d always done with Cersei which was either make her mad enough to yell at him, or hug her from behind so that her punches and kicks landed with little effect. He wasn’t good with words, and he wasn’t sure how to handle this situation. He was fairly sure he was going to ask for an explanation on why she’d turned him down, (he’d googled it eventually, and had stayed up till 2am reading comment threads but there were so many for and against arguments that it hadn’t really helped him much), but he hadn’t really got much further than that.

He pushed his way into the building, glad it was a dark cloudy day but that the rain hadn’t hit yet. Maybe instead of trying to talk about everything here in the office, he would ask to go to Tarth’s. Take her where she felt comfortable so it felt a little less like the ambush he was scared it would turn into and more like their earlier friendlier conversations.

‘Mr Lannister,’ said a voice. ‘I did wonder if you‘d show.’ Dr Stark was standing at the side of the desk, a bunch of notebooks and papers in front of her. She looked the angriest Jaime had ever seen her, her mouth set in a line, her brows furrowed so deep Jaime wondered if she‘d ever be able to straighten them out again.

‘Why wouldn‘t I?’ he asked. ‘I have a standing appointment.’ He fished his phone from his pocket to stare at the screen. It was possible he could have missed a text from here, but he knew it was unlikely. Every time his phone went off, which was rarely since everyone who wanted to talk to him knew it was pointless to try and reach him on his mobile, he’d scanned the text that had come through hungrily, hoping for word from Brienne, even if was only to move his appointment. There had been nothing.

He placed his phone on the desk, after confirming there was no missed message from Dr Stark.

Dr Stark’s response was to slam another notebook on top of the already teetering pile she seemed to be making in front of her.

‘Some people might not want to show up. Some people might be fearful of what was waiting for them.’

‘And, what is waiting for me?’ Jaime asked. His mind flashed to Brienne, but there was no sign of her here. Her jacket was gone from her chair, and her beeper wasn’t littering the desk either. She wasn’t in the building, and his disappointment stung.

‘An angry doctor,’ Dr Stark said. ‘I assume you think it’s all fun and games. A great time to be had by all. Didn‘t you even try to talk them out of it?’

‘Dr Stark I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Jaime said. Honesty was the way to go here, he felt sure. ‘The only thing I may or may not be responsible for is apparently your assistant refusing to be anywhere near me.’ He was hoping that Dr Stark would shake her head, or dismiss his ideas as stupid.

Instead she glared at him even more.

‘Did you know that Brienne has only ever taken one sick day in the three years she’s been working for me? We both got food poisoning from a restaurant and it was only because I insisted we both take the Monday off and recover that she didn’t come into work. And she still called all the clients I had to rearrange their appointments. But last week, she calls in sick. And today, she tells me she’s got a private appointment between 1 and 3. I asked her if everything was alright, and she assured me it was, but she provided no other details and I couldn’t press her for them. She said everything was in order, but a former client called up asking for their invoices from last year for tax purposes, or something, and now I have to dig through a year of clients trying to find their details!’ Dr Stark’s hair was falling from its bun, as her volume got higher and higher. ‘Which normally would be fine, except Brienne is in the middle of moving all the files so she can input them into our new computer system, and I’m so consumed by other events I can’t even remember who the client I’m supposed to be looking for is!’ It was the perfect end to her speech, the pile of notebooks tottering over and crashing to the floor. Jaime almost thought that Dr Stark would let out a scream and stamp her feet or burst into floods of tears, but instead she took a deep breath, and crossed her arms over her chest. Loose papers fluttered to the floor around Jaime‘s feet but he didn’t think it was a good idea to start picking them up. Dr Stark was still glaring at him.

‘I’m sorry about the pain I’ve caused Brienne,’ Jaime said. ‘And you by extension.’

‘Oh, it‘s not even that,’ Dr Stark said. ‘Brienne’s entitled to her private life and appointments and sick days. I’ve just got so used to her being practically perfect that this is jarring for me. So, tell me Mr Lannister, did you at least get an invite?’

‘To what?’ Jaime asked. He wasn’t sure he wanted Dr Stark to work on his arm this afternoon. He wasn’t due to have anything difficult today, (she was going to work on his burn scar next week, which he’d finally confessed to her about last week. She hadn’t been happy but as she’d said before, she also wasn’t one to judge and the only thing she could do about it now was fix it.) No today was supposed to be a touching up of the lines, with some kind of special ink that sank into your skin so that your previously damaged soulmark could at least look whole even if it wasn’t quite there yet. But still. That required a steady hand and he could see from here that Dr Starks’ were shaking.

‘Oh, don’t play dumb,’ she said.

‘I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he told her. He’d thought for a moment...but no. Brienne was at an appointment somewhere, or as Jaime thought, avoiding the building while he was inside. Probably sitting in Tarth’s right now, sipping from her blue and white mug and feeling sick and anxious about the lie she’d told to her boss.

A beep sounded from the desk, and Jaime automatically looked towards the noise, only realising after three more that the sound was coming from his phone. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, unlocking the phone, and bringing up the messages that had come through. ‘It’s from Tyrion. Some kind of image that hasn’t loaded, and a few messages.’ He cleared his throat, unsure about why he was going to read them aloud, but hoping it would create a few moments for Dr Stark to compose herself. She had to be hating how she was acting; Jaime was still a client, no matter the supposed grievances he was causing her right now. ‘Hello, brother. Please forgive me for not telling you about this sooner, but given our history I hope you’ll understand. I calculate it should be 1.30pm in the UK which means you should now be inside Dr Stark’s offices. I didn‘t want to tell you beforehand in case she accused you of having something to do with it, so here’s hoping this text finds you together, and not in the office hopelessly flirting with her assistant.’ Well. Jaime supposed this was going to answer the question about Dr Stark’s state, even if there had been no need for Tyrion to add that last little bit on. ‘A week ago Sansa Stark called me using the new number you provided her with to tell me that a soulmark had showed on her back. She couldn’t be sure what day it appeared, but she felt like it was the day she met me, and she wanted to know if I had a recently discovered soulmark. I did. She mentioned you’d seen the crown and dagger on her back and that she’d asked you if you knew anyone with a matching soulmark. We spoke longer on the phone, and shared our romantic history, and we both came to the same conclusion. We needed to confirm this union as soon as possible. So, we’ve gone to get married. I’m sorry you couldn’t be at the wedding, but we wanted no one here. I’ll see you when I get back, and here’s hoping Dr Stark won’t use any of the weapons at her disposal on you.’ The image had finally come through, a black and white shot showing Tyrion and Sansa, heads pressed together, wide grins on their faces. Tyrion was in a suit, and Sansa in a dress that Jaime supposed looked kind of like a wedding dress if you squinted and had wanted a low key affair.

‘He told me he was going on holiday two days ago,’ Jaime offered to the room. ‘But he does that quite often. He didn’t mention that he was taking your daughter with him. Or a new soulmark. Or...well. Any of that.’

‘Yes, I think that was apparent in the message,’ Dr Stark said, but a little of her anger seemed to have evaporated. ‘I’m sorry for accusing you.’ Her words were stiff and Jaime got the feeling Dr Stark wasn’t someone who apologized often. ‘I assumed that Tyrion would tell you.’

‘No,’ Jaime said, re-reading the text. It was there in his message; ‘given our history.’ Given what had happened with Tysha, Jaime wasn’t trustworthy enough. Tyrion had to know that Jaime wasn’t the same person, wasn’t that easily controlled anymore...but still. Scars ran deep. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Dr Stark, tucking the phone back into his pocket. ‘I know you’re annoyed about how this has come about, but I can’t be anything but happy for them. Tyrion is a wonderful, caring man and I know he will treat your daughter with all the respect she deserves.’

So last week hadn’t been about Jaime at all! Sansa had been trying to get more information on Tyrion. If Jaime wasn't bursting with happiness for his brother his embarrassment would have flooded his body by now.

‘It’s not that,’ Dr Stark snapped. ‘Oh, alright it’s a little about that. I can’t help but worry about my children. And I can’t help but wish I’d been at one of their weddings.’

‘What do you mean?’ Jaime asked. ‘There’s at least three more for you.’ There were five Stark children, he remembered.

‘Robb eloped,’ Dr Stark said counting on her fingers. ‘Sansa’s now eloped. Arya is refusing to ever get married, and maybe she will, but it’s not going to be a fairytale affair with a feast and 200 guests. Bran has two soulmarks so gods knows what that’s going to turn into, but I image not a riot of fun. And Rickon has no mark. I suppose he’ll be my only hope.’ She gave a great suffering sigh. ‘No, Sansa was my true hope, but she’s eloped, and even if she does let us throw her a party to celebrate, I can’t imagine your father is going to let me take the reins.’

‘Mm, yes my father,’ Jaime said. He wasn’t going to tell Tywin of Tyrion’s marriage, that was for sure, but the news would get out somehow. Tywin might not be as involved in his son’s affairs as he once had been, and Sansa came from a better family than Tysha had; but still. There would be a conversation and probably a fight too.
‘Although I assume quite a lot of his time is being taken up with your sister’s nuptials. 30 courses are being served according to the article I read last week,’ Dr Stark said.

‘Oh, really?’ Jaime said. ‘I haven’t been keeping up to date.’ Cersei’s wedding was still a tough spot for him. He didn’t feel even a swirl in his stomach at the mention of it anymore, but it wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on. He’d booked a holiday for the date of her wedding, and had casually dropped it into conversations with his father and brother. Tywin had nodded and Tyrion had offered him a guide book and nothing more had been said.

‘It sounds like it’s going to be quite an event,’ Dr Stark said.

‘I’m sure it will be,’ Jaime replied. He looked down at the papers on the floor. Standing here all day wasn’t going to get anything done. ‘Anyway, Dr Stark, we have an appointment and Brienne might murder you if she comes back to this.’

‘True,’ Dr Stark said and she bent down to pick up a bunch of notebooks. ‘She is going to kill me.’

‘I’ll help,’ Jaime said, and he gathered a bunch of papers in his hand, making sure they were in a neat pile and placed on Brienne’s desk. They were all out of order and full of client information, but Jaime couldn’t help that.

On his third pile, he bent to pick up a page where the dark colours had seeped through to the back. He flipped it over thoughtlessly; he’d seen a few pages covered with Brienne’s drawings so far and was hoping to find more of them. Even her doodles looked like the real thing was staring back at him. He’d discovered the soulmarks from A Thousand Suns burning at him on one page; a wolf on another; and a whole page filled with the same soulmark he’d once seen on Catelyn Stark’s foot only a few months ago. He hadn’t remembered that Dr Stark’s soulmate had featured a small wooden bridge at the side of the castle.

He turned the page over, and the others in his hand slipped to the floor. Staring at him, like it had jumped straight from his arm to the page was his soulmark. A complete image, like nothing he’d ever seen before. Just like the one on his arm, this one gleamed and shimmered, the lion’s stare copied perfectly. It was better than the one Renly had drawn.

And every single detail had been drawn and coloured and measured in a way that not even Renly could have done.

There was only one person who could have produced a copy of his soulmark so perfectly.

Jaime ran, ignoring the shouts of Dr Stark to come back, the soulmark drawing still clutched in his hand.

*

By the time Jaime reached Tarth’s he was panting. There was a commotion happing at the doorway, and he was glad of the chance to catch his breath – he'd run straight here, a million questions in his mind. He paused outside the little outdoor seating area, waiting for the woman with the double buggy to manoeuvre herself though the doorway, while a man in a suit held it open for her with a patient look on his face.

Jaime couldn’t see Brienne though the big glass windows, but he was sure she was inside. Where else would she go to kill an hour? He’d run straight past her car on his dash here, so she hadn’t left the area, and Jaime knew she was lying about her appointment. His worst fears had come true – Brienne was avoiding him, just not for the reason he thought.

He glanced down at the drawing – although it really seemed like so much more than that – still clutched in his hand.

Would she come here? The thought occurred to him, as he stood waiting. Here, she could sit with her mug of tea, people watching, and staring at her watch, waiting for the seconds to tick down until she could return back to the office, with no fear of running into Jaime himself. Her father would greet her, and probably ask no questions. The staff would chat with her, and Brienne would sit, hating herself for lying to Dr Stark.

No. Brienne wouldn’t want to have comfort around her while she was mixed up. She’d want to punish herself, Jaime felt sure. Maybe he had got to know her better than he’d thought, or maybe it was the magic that she’d first spoken about, the connection between two souls that felt he knew this deep in his bones.

Where would she go, if not here? It was unlikely he thought that she’d have booked an actual appointment just for the sake of not lying. As far as Jaime knew the offices around here were lawyers, and accountants, businesses that housed their marketing teams and head offices away from actual stores. It would be hard for anyone to set up an actual fake appointment with any of those, unless she was willing to pay for a couple of hours of a lawyers time.

Jaime didn’t think so.

He turned his back on Tarth’s, striding hurriedly away, thinking. What was it Brienne had said at their first visit to her namesake? ‘There’s nowhere else to go, unless you want to go to Maiden’s. And nobody wants to go to Maiden’s.’

In all his time coming here, Jaime had never passed a place called Maidens. He pulled his phone from his pocket, still heading away from Tarth’s before Selwyn or Davos could see him and delay him, and after a few minutes he’d googled the place. Maiden’s was a pub, a seven-minute walk from Tarth’s.

Jaime broke into a run.

Maiden’s, Jaime saw when he reached it, was the complete opposite of Tarth’s. He wondered if they had been designed that way, or if it was just a reflection of their owners and the clients each of them attracted. While both had exteriors made from windows, Maiden’s was painted a dark green colour, that was less lush grass and more new-born-baby-used-nappy. The paint was peeling, and the gilt edges of the windows had dulled over time.

If it was this depressing from the outside, Jaime couldn’t begin to think how the inside would feel – a perfect place to sit and punish yourself.

He pushed his way inside, blinking as he adjusted to the darkness. Even on a sunny day, he had a feeling this place always had the overhead lights on dim, that the grime from the windows blocked any natural light from passing through. The carpet was dark, as were all the tables and chairs.

Empty tables and chairs. Brienne wasn’t sitting in any of the ones at the front, although this wasn’t surprising.

Jaime made his way further into the pub, nodding to the barman who was wiping down a glass behind a large bar and who nodded back at Jaime, but otherwise took no notice of him. The place smelled like the boozers Tyrion loved to drag Jaime too, of stale cigarette smoke, and booze spilled on all the surfaces. There were no fun drawings adoring these dark panelled walls, not even a photograph. A small TV hung in one corner, showing a football game, a few glassy eyed men staring at it from their stools and not speaking to each other.

The room, which had looked small, curved around a corner, and Jaime stepped into what he supposed might have been a restaurant at some point, although he doubted anyone who came here ordered food now days. Green and brown booths lined the walls. Five on each side, leading to a back exit and the toilets.

She wasn’t in the first two booths, but Jaime found her in the third one, along the left-hand side. He slid into the seat opposite her, and before she could do anything than looked shocked at his appearance, he placed the sheet of paper on the table between them.

Brienne started down at her own drawing, and whatever she’d been about to say died on her lips, although Jaime was sure she had a thousand things she wanted to tell him.

‘There’s only one person who could have drawn this,’ Jaime said. A full pint of larger was sitting next to Brienne, but she hadn’t touched it. Probably, it was one of the only things this place did. It didn’t seem like somewhere you could order a coffee. ‘And don’t try and fob it off as Renly’s.’ Jaime tapped the little sun and moon symbol drawn at the top of the sword. ‘I’ve never told anyone about this. Even when Renly asked so he could draw my soulmark, I held this back. I told Dr Stark about the burn covering it last week, but she can heal the burn scar without knowing what’s underneath it. Only one other person in the world knows what my soulmark looks like whole.’

‘Your soulmate,’ Brienne said, and Jaime felt as though he could have wept, hearing her voice. For a second he wondered if she was going to deny it, try to think of another excuse.

But of course. He should have known. Brienne wasn’t like that.

‘How did you get this?’ she asked instead.

‘Dr Stark is having a bit of a meltdown,’ Jaime admitted. ‘Sansa and Tyrion have run off to get married, you’re not being as perfect as she’s used to, and there’s some client drama – you can sort that out later. We need to talk.’

‘I wasn’t going to leave,’ Brienne said, and her voice was soft. She still hadn’t looked at him, but was drinking in the drawing on the table, like she’d never seen it before, and she had to memorize it before it was taken away for good.

‘When did you realise?’ Jaime asked, although it could have been any of the questions currently screaming at him. There were so many things they needed to sort out, and questions he needed to ask, and explaining that needed to be done. Had she known from the very first moment he’d walked into the office, and shown her his mangled soulmark? He hadn’t thought of Brienne as a good actor, but if she’d been lying this whole time...

‘At the Shaving,’ she said.

‘That was weeks ago!’ The words bust from Jamie, and he fought to keep his temper under control. He wasn’t angry at her, not really. Angry at himself for not seeing the signs, when there had been plenty.

Angry at everything for what this meant and what it could mean and how badly he’d fucked Brienne’s life up over the years, even before he knew she existed.

‘I know,’ Brienne said, and now she was looking at him, her gaze solid on his face. ‘I should have told you. Me and Catelyn had arranged that I would take you to Tarth’s after the appointment if Tyrion hadn’t shown up. When I realised...you screamed at the exact same time my skin felt like it was being ripped into. I knew I had to tell you, and I was going to, but then you got a call from Blackwater.’ A red flush was creeping up Brienne’s neck, and she was sitting on her hands like she had to contain them. Jaime thought about his soulmark being on her arm, just inches away from him for the first time, and a feeling so intense and emotional shot through him. ‘I know that Mr Blackwater is a soulmate finder. I have the business cards of them all in the offices, in case clients want to track their soulmate after their treatment. You looked at me, and I thought he’d told you. And then you...’

‘And then I told you that I’d never put much store by my soulmark,’ Jaime said, the memory smacking into him with force.

Brienne nodded.

‘I thought that was your way of letting me down. And I got it, and I understood, but I couldn’t hear those words. I just couldn’t.’ She flushed, and Jaime thought he understood. Brienne prided herself on being strong, no matter what was thrown at her. She was supposed to be able to withstand anything. But she hadn’t been able to sit through a rejection.

‘But you were at my appointment the next week,’ Jaime said, frowning. It didn’t make sense to him. ‘You weren’t avoiding me then.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I assumed everything was fine. We both knew where we stood, and you were a client. I could deal with that. Then I realised that you didn’t know. That whatever Mr Blackwater had called you about, it wasn’t to tell you the name of your soulmate. Which meant I had to tell you. And, so far, I just haven’t found the way to do that, so I’ve let Catelyn down rather than face you.’

Jaime put his elbows on the table and then his head in his hand, closing his eyes. This was showing a little light in the crack that was everything he needed to hear, but it wasn’t enough. All of their previous conversations replayed in his head, all of their interactions, all the memories of Cersei harming him - what had Brienne been doing at those times? Had she felt them? Did she have skin grafts? How could she not have realised until the Shaving what was going on!

‘Explain,’ Jaime said, and he heard a sigh and then Brienne began to talk.

It was finally time for him to hear the other half of his soulmark’s story.

Chapter Text

Brienne Tarth was born during the storm for which her parents eventually decided to name her after. Rain lashed against the windows of the hospital room while the sky was dark even at 2pm. Brienne was the second miracle child born to parents who thought they'd never be able to have children. She was born twelve years after her brother, Gal, and her parents felt the overwhelming love rush through them as she came into the world. The nurses made cooing noises but Selwyn and his wife ignored the looks they exchanged; even as a newborn, the fact that Brienne had taken after her father was apparent. She was never going to be a beauty, but that was never going to matter to her parents.

And for a moment, they were overjoyed as they discovered the soulmark on her arm. The sword stretched from her inner elbow to her wrist and her parents almost cried with relief. Gal had no soulmark, but this one on their daughter meant she would be loved someday. Someone out there was waiting her, and that was all they could ever wish for.

But their joy soon turned sour as the skin around the soulmark turned red and inflamed and the baby began to scream. The nurses, who had been bustling around cleaning up and giving the parents time with their daughter, tensed and moved with quick efficient steps. One of them took Brienne, glanced at her arm and then whisked her away to another room, while the kindly elder nurse sat down and explained what was happening to the Tarths. Brienne would have a skin graft applied in the next hour or so; and this would stop any more pain caused by her soulmate. The Tarth’s who hadn’t heard of this deep connection between soulmarks sat in shock for the next two hours while their daughter underwent the first of many skin grafts. The nurse explained to them that Brienne would probably need a new one every four weeks or so depending on how well she grew. As she was a baby, the doctors would only apply monthly skin grafts since she’d outgrow them. Parents could apply to have semi-permanent grafts applied to their child if they wished, but they would need to fill out paperwork, and it usually wasn’t worth it; most children’s soulmarks grew with them. The small sword on their daughter’s arm would stretch as she did, and the skin graft would eventually burn itself out on both ends. The best bet was to have a new one applied. There were support groups, the nurse told them. They could come every week and bring their baby and meet other parents who were going through the same thing, the same idea that someone out there was causing harm to their child, maybe even without knowing it. The nurse explained that it could have just been a reaction to their soulmate suddenly coming into the world, and that it didn’t mean their daughter would suffer for the rest of her life; that her soulmate may never even touch the mark again. But still. It was better to be safe than sorry.

The Tarth’s nodded, and took it in their stride, setting up skin graft appointments for the next year that very afternoon, and trying not to cry every time they looked at the pinkish skin on their newborn’s arm. They vowed that they would tell nobody about her soulmark and what had happened; that it was better for Brienne to grow up as another person without a soulmark than someone with a damaged one.

And for eight years, it was fine. On the last Sunday of every month, they’d bundle Brienne up in her coat, and take her to the local hospital. They’d explained everything to her, or as well as it could be explained to a child. They told her that her soulmate had tried to hurt his soulmark the first time it appeared and that they needed to protect her in case it happened again. They answered all of Brienne’s questions about whether it could have been her soulmate’s parents who had hurt him (it was possible, but they couldn’t know for sure, and yes, they had tried to look for the soulmark in the database, but there was nothing on there that matched the image her parents had in their head.), and if this meant that Brienne would never have someone who loved her. They hugged her close and told her it didn’t matter; Brienne was a good person and many people would see that over the years. Whatever the situation was with her soulmate it didn’t change anything and Brienne needed to remember that.

Brienne went about her life, and she didn’t feel differently, although she supposed she wouldn’t have known if she did. Her arm didn’t hurt, and she never really thought about it, or what the soulmark underneath was. Sometimes, on the way home from a skin graft, she’d trace the newly pinkish skin, running her fingers along it and wondering what was hidden; but then her parents would treat her to a hot chocolate or a slushie and she put it from her mind. Other kids at school had soulmarks, and she used to overhear the girls, sitting around in circles talking about the kind of boy they hoped wore the matching one, but she didn’t think even if her soulmark had been uncovered that it would have made a difference to her; she preferred to run around the school field with the boys playing football rather than talking and giggling.

One month, Brienne awoke to find the bottom of a sword poking into her elbow. For a moment, she wondered if it was a new soulmark that had appeared, and combed through her memory to see if there had been anybody she’d met yesterday; but then she realised that it was the end of her old soulmark, the one she’d been born with. She’d never seen even a picture of her soulmark. She knew there was one in her medical file, because a nurse had mentioned it to her once, but she’d never wanted to see what it looked like before. Her parents knew best, and she trusted them. Her soulmark was bad news, and she shouldn’t spend too much time thinking about it.

So, she went downstairs and told her mother, and was booked in for another skin graft that afternoon.

The next month was the school holidays, and Brienne was excited to go to their island. It wasn’t actually their island, the one that her father waxed lyrically about that had been lost to maps hundreds of years ago, but another one that they spent every summer at. Brienne loved it. She’d spend most of her days in the water, either swimming or on a boat, staying up until the sky above turned dark and the fireflies came out. Even Gal came with them, his usual sullen attitude turning into happiness for a few weeks as he roamed about, taking photos of everything and anything. The people there knew the Tarth’s, and they welcomed Brienne like an old friend. There was none of that double taking that she was getting used to when people saw her face. The men with their boats would take her out on them and ruffle her hair and tell her she was doing a wonderful job, and the women would sneak her sweet treats or teach her how to build a fire, or dive gracefully from the cliffs (well, she wasn’t actually allowed to dive yet, but her mother had promised her she could when she was older).

This year however her parents sat her down at their kitchen table and explained that they wouldn’t be going to the island. Her mother had to have some tests, and they needed to be here. Her parents looked stressed, although they pasted smiles on their faces and kissed her on the head and told her it was ‘probably’ nothing to worry about.

Even as a child, Brienne knew that if there had truly been nothing to worry about her parents wouldn’t have mentioned it to her.

Brienne had always been a quiet child, but as the months wore on and her parents grew tenser, Brienne tried her hardest not to get in their way. If she had a problem with her homework, she would figure it out herself. If her jeans ripped, or she spilled something on her top she would hide the item of clothing until she could fix it herself. And she watched as the bags under her mother’s eyes grew darker and heavier, as her mother hunched over more and more, as her parents whispers and sobs kept her awake at night.

Brienne was nine years old the first time she ever saw her soulmark. It had been coming through her last skin graft over the past few weeks, and she knew she should speak up and tell her parents that it was time to book another appointment, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t hurting her, and she didn’t want to add any more stress to her parents already full load.

Brienne lay in bed for longer than she ever had that weekend morning, tracing the lines that covered her arm. She stared at the lion’s head, and marvelled at the colours, and poked the small shiny burn scar at the top, wondering why that was there, and if it was part of her soulmark. She started to wear long sleeves, for fear of her parents catching sight of the soulmark and remembering that she needed to be taken care of. Her mother was growing weaker, Brienne could tell. One week she seemed fine, laughing and joking and hugging Brienne, and the next she’d be slumped over the kitchen table, unable to look up or smile. Gal appeared back at home on the weekends, and Brienne resented him. She could hear him in the kitchen with her parents, privy to the late night talks that happened long after Brienne should have been asleep, and she wished she was a grown up, that she wasn’t so shut out of what was happening. No matter how much she pretended, she was still a child and her parents treated her like one.

At ten years old her mother let her come to a hospital appointment with her. Selwyn's father had just died and Selwyn now had a business to run and a house to sell and other bits to deal with. Brienne knew her mother came to the hospital all the time when Brienne was at school. She saw the official letters stacking up in the hallway. Once they’d been about Brienne; but she’d taken those from the pile each morning, stuffing them in a shoebox at the bottom of her wardrobe so her parents wouldn’t see them. Her mother didn’t need to spend any more time at that place. Even Brienne who enjoyed spending time in the playroom before her operation had felt a sense of dread whenever they entered the building for her skingrafts. She wouldn’t make her mother visit any more often than she had to.

It happened as they were about to enter the small room for her mother’s treatment. Brienne stood up from the cold plastic chair to follow her mother into a room full of other sick women, some of them with drips attached to their arms, trying to smile back at the friendly nurse who was chatting to them about nonsense; a pain so intense ripped through Brienne’s arm that she thought someone was burning her alive, starting with the skin there. She yanked her sleeve up, staring at the red gash across her soulmark, starting at one end all the way down to the end, stopping just under one of the lion’s eyes. It took her a split second to work out what had happened.

She cried out, stumbling a little on the cheap, squeaky floor, feeling the warm gush of blood as it sped over her arm. She hugged her arm to herself as both her mother and the nurse stopped and turned to look at her, and Brienne could see the concern spread over her mother’s face; her daughter’s soulmark may have been forgotten in the face of her own illness, but it would only take a second for her to put the dots together and remember. Brienne’s mother was clever like that.

‘Sorry,’ Brienne said. ‘I stubbed my toe.’ She pulled the sleeve of her jumper down firmly, clamping her left arm to her side and hurrying to catch up to her mother. She could wait it out for five minutes before saying she needed the toilet. She’d wrap the arm in loo paper and wash it under the taps.

Her mother passed away the next year. It was a bleak year in the Tarth household. Gal went back to his flat after the funeral leaving Brienne and Selwyn to roam about the house on their own. Selwyn tried to be there for Brienne, but she knew it was hard for him, and she hated making his life difficult. She’d excuse herself to her room as often as she could. It was her first year of high school, and she spent most of her time hunched over books, reading ahead and trying to make a good impression on her new teachers. She was fearful that someone would find out about the situation at home, although as far as she was concerned there was no situation. Selwyn had left the running of his new café to a manager, and he still made sure there was food in the fridge every week for himself and Brienne. The bills were paid on time, and Brienne knew that if she asked for anything from her father, he would pull himself together enough to give it to her.

But she wasn’t going to ask.

Her soulmark was fine most nights. Just twice had she woken, watching the blood pool over her Hello Kitty bedsheets, and fighting down the scream of pain inside her. She’d used her pocket money to buy bandages and cream a year ago, hidden under her bed so her father wouldn’t find them and ask what was wrong.

She knew she should tell him. Knew that she didn’t have to suffer, that she could be whisked back to a hospital room within 24 hours and have the pain erased for another few months or so, maybe even half a year depending on how fast she grew. It wouldn’t even cost her father anything.

Except his time. And to step back into a hospital, the very same one he’d spent an entire month at, sleeping and eating by his wife’s bedside as she slipped in and out of sleep. Gal had been Brienne’s primary caregiver then, although he’d mainly just made sure she was eating enough before going back to his own problems. So, no. Brienne wasn’t going to be the one to put her father through more pain. And she knew the moment she told him what was happening, the moment he remembered about her soulmark and why they’d spent eight years covering it up, his guilt would rush at him from all sides. She’d have to show it to him, show him the marks (there were three now), and the burn scar, although she hadn’t felt that damage. The idea of calling up and trying to make her own appointment had occurred to her, but Brienne wasn’t sure if they needed her parents' permission or not. She assumed they did, and she didn’t want to risk it, just in case.

Brienne had been told about the connections between soulmarks since she was young. She understood that whatever her soulmate did to his own arm would then happen to hers. She knew that if she cut her own arm, the same cut would appear on her soulmate. She’d found a book in her new high school library, talking about the different types of soulmarks, which was also tucked under her bed, waiting to be read cover to cover. She’d only skimmed a little of it so far, about soulmate connections. She’d read about a case of a couple being able to write on their soulmarks for it to show up on the matching one, and she’d grabbed a black biro and scribbled ‘hello?’ over hers. Nothing had showed back up, even though she’d left it for 48 hours. But she wondered if that was surprising; whoever her soulmate was, they quite clearly wanted nothing to do with her. (Unless he had bad parents who were hurting him. This thought kept Brienne up some nights, as she stared at her soulmark. What if he needed her to help him? But her parents had told her no mark matching hers had been uploaded to the database, and there was nothing else she could do to find him. She knew there were people out there who tracked down soulmates for you, but she very much doubted that her pocket money would cover that cost.)

A little while later, her father went back to work, and the light started to come back into his eyes. He drew up plans for the café, (he wanted to go with an underwater theme, and he was currently spending his spare time looking for photos which he could hang on the walls. Brienne had already had to veto several of the photos he’d dug up from their photo box and had taken down to the local framers. He’d come back one day from sourcing items for his new vision, with a hideous stuffed pink octopus that Brienne had pretended to love. She placed it on her bed and the longer it was there the fonder she grew of it. By the time Tarth’s was ready to relaunch, she had named the octopus ‘Blight’ and couldn’t sleep without him.)

By the time Brienne was fourteen the damages had started in earnest. Almost every week she woke to a new pain in her arm, jolting up in bed, heart racing before she remembered. She’d flip her nightlight on, seeing how much blood there was, and then set about her routine. There was a little plastic basket that she kept under her bed now, with all her medical supplies in. Her bedroom was more long than wide, just enough for a bed, a small wardrobe and a tiny desk shoved in the corner, but it was enough for her. Under the bed was the only hiding place, and she’d been changing her sheets since she was eleven, so there was no reason for her father to go near it at all.

One night, she’d risen from her bed, a fresh cut stinging her arm. A year or so ago she’d realised that after a damage she’d never be able to go back to sleep, so instead she stayed awake. Usually she’d read, but that night she found herself sitting at her desk, a blank sheet of paper in front of her. She’d always liked drawing, but it had been limited to Art classes. Tonight’s cut had been close to the burn mark on her arm, the burn mark that she’d never seen under. She knew it must be related to her soulmark, because it always remained the same. If it had been something she’d done to herself it would have faded by now. She was confused about why her soulmark hadn’t shown back through by now; according to what she’d read soulmarks always showed through the damages. Whatever it was, it should have come back by now.

Brienne sat at her desk, letting a pencil draw softly over the page. Her thoughts were whirling with questions she’d been asking herself for years, and ones she knew she was unlikely to get answers to any time soon. (Was her soulmate being harmed? Was she supposed to be looking for him, doing everything she could to save him? How would her father react if she told him about her soulmark and should she try and get another skin graft?) She closed her eyes, and focused on her soulmark, trying to trace the image from memory. She had only completed half of it when she felt her pencil drift up to the side, and pictured a tiny sun and moon, almost like it was hanging in the sky above her sword. She opened her eyes then, swallowing the lump in her throat. The sun and moon was the Tarth family crest, at least according to her father. There was a framed picture of it hanging in their downstairs toilet. It had taken Selwyn years of digging though old books and corresponding with professors online to find out about it. He was currently trying to find someone who could make the symbol to his liking so he could hang it from the side of Tarth’s, so that everyone could see it.

In a way that it never had before, the lion head sword now felt linked to Brienne, like it was the very core of her being. Her eyed filled with tears as she stared down at the damaged image on her arm, and she left her pencil on the paper. There was no way she could finish the drawing. To see it whole, and perfect would be too much.

So she flipped the paper over and started to draw other soulmarks. She started off with her parents, but that was a tiny ocean wave, and it didn’t take her long. She thought back to the books she’d read over the past few years, trying to remember the odd cases she’d found warmth in, and tried to put them on the paper, a rough sketch first before attempting to use the shading of her pencil to give them depth and take them from a drawing to a soulmark.

When the sun from outside touched the edge of her desk, Brienne sat up, blinking. She’d been drawing all night, several sheets of paper now in front of her, covered with soulmarks; a burning sun stared out at her from one of them, the soulmark worn by the people with the most in the world. A soulmark that Brienne had seen on one of her teachers stared at her from another page, and a couple from a few students who went around each day showing theirs off to everyone in the hope of one day running into their soulmate were scattered around the desk too.

And then Brienne looked down at her own soulmark, noticing the dried blood splattered over her arm. She hadn’t even noticed that a fresh cut had been made during the course of the night, so intent was she on her drawings. Something flickered inside her and she cleaned herself up, and got ready for her day.

After that it was easy to settle into a new routine. After school she’d come home and take a nap, only rousing herself when her father called her for dinner. Once they’d eaten, and Selwyn had told her about his day, about the funny customers that had come in and she’d told him the bare minimum about hers, she’d go back upstairs and get on with her homework until it was time for bed. She was lucky she fell asleep quickly, almost as if her body knew she if she missed these hours, she wouldn’t be able to catch up. When she woke, pain searing through her skin, she’d give herself one minute to calm her heart, and sort herself out, then set herself up at her desk, pulling fresh sheets of paper and ink pens towards her. She studied soulmarks from books, trying to copy them, enjoying the more complex ones that challenged her. When the sun came up, she’d come back to the real world, her viewpoint getting bigger than whatever was on the page.

Some nights she still slept though, and her arm was unchanged in the morning. She wore long sleeves as often as she could now days, choosing jumpers and long sleeve t-shirts over the tank tops she’d favoured when she was younger. The only place she couldn’t get away with that was on the island her father still insisted they go to each summer. She’d arrive with a bandage over her arm, telling those who asked that she’d burnt herself, or slipped on some rocks and scraped all her arm up but that someone had already seen to it, and told her to keep it covered. They never asked more than once and her father never questioned her. He was always so happy on the island and Brienne made sure to keep out of his way as much as possible while she was there, spending all her days out on the water, learning how to sail and swim and cliff dive. The summers built her muscles up and when she came back home, she hated the idea that they might waste away; so she joined a gym and took classes there every week. Her father was more than happy for her to get on with her life, happy to see that these things made her smile. Losing her mother had been hard for Brienne, and to see her sweating but happy was really all he could ask for.

If Brienne had to think about it, she probably would have realised that it couldn’t have lasted. Her father might be easily distracted but he wasn’t stupid. And she might have had years to deal with the pain, but that didn’t mean she still didn’t react to it, waking each night gasping with shock.

It happened when she was fifteen. In the middle of the school day, Brienne and her classmates out behind the back of the building, playing basketball. The pain slammed into her with a suddenness, startling her, and making her stop in her tracks. The ball bounced past her, and the kids around her looked at each other; Brienne kept to herself, but if there was one thing she could be counted on it was her athletic ability. Everyone always wanted her on their team.

The last time Brienne’s soulmark had hurt during the day, it had been when she’d followed her mother into the treatment room at the hospital; and for a second, she was transported back to that day, that time, watching her mother turn around and look at her with concern.

And then the teacher was in front of Brienne, demanding to know what was up with her, and yanking up her sleeve as the blood droplets fell to the ground. Brienne would never say that she was fearless, but she was very good at doing what needed to be done no matter how you felt about it, and carrying on regardless; but here, she felt scared. She was taken to the headmasters office, while the kids on the court stared after her, their whispers following her for weeks. Her soulmark had finally been exposed to them all. Before that she’d just been one of the unlucky ones who didn’t have one.

They told her father. Of course they did. He marched into the office, straight for her, and lifted her arm up so he could examine it. She couldn’t look at him as he stared down at the cuts on her arm, her face red with shame.

‘How long has this been going on for?’ he asked, eventually sitting down in a chair opposite her. Her arm dropped back down to her side, the cream the school nurse had applied scraping against her uniform and leaving a white streak on the green jacket.

‘A few years,’ she admitted. ‘The last skin graft wore off when Mum was sick, and it was fine. Nothing happened, which is why I didn’t say anything.’

‘And then?’ Selwyn asked. The sick room was quiet, all outside sound cut off, just two narrow beds and a visitor chair. The window had been left open and Brienne shivered as a breeze passed over her. The nurse had insisted she lie on the bed although Brienne had sat up as soon as she’d been left alone. She didn’t feel sick or light headed. She’d been dealing with this for years; she didn’t think the nurse was more qualified to tell her how to handle it. She was itching for her paper and a pencil but it would have to wait.

‘It happened once,’ she said. ‘But I couldn’t tell Mum. She was ill and I didn’t want to worry her more, add more stress. It was just one cut.’ She bit her lip so she didn’t tell him how big the cut had been. ‘And I took care of it.’

‘There’s more than one cut on that soulmark, Brienne,’ Selwyn said. He couldn’t stop staring at her arm, and she wished she could shift it, hide it from view.

‘It happens at night. Today’s only the second time it’s been damaged during the day.’

‘I should have remembered,’ he said, shaking his head. He looked older than Brienne had ever seen him, even after her mother’s death. And the light that had taken so long to come back to his eyes had gone out again. Brienne had caused that, and she felt sick to her stomach. Would it have been so hard for her to tell her parents what was going on? To have to force them back to the hospital at the end of every month just to save her a moment of pain?

But she refused to answer that question, because she still believed the answer to be yes. ‘I just...when your mother got ill, that was all I could think about. I wanted to be there for her, and you always seemed so fine.’

‘You did a good job,’ Brienne said. ‘I never felt like I was side-lined or anything. I just didn’t want to add to your stress. I’m sorry.’

‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’ He scratched at his hip, where Brienne knew his soulmark was. Soulmarks were a big issue in her universe, but she knew for most people they were just another extension of your body. Her father hadn’t thought about hers because she hadn’t mentioned it. ‘This is on me.’

‘No,’ Brienne said. ‘After that first time, it didn’t happen for a while. And Mother was so bad, I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want...I couldn’t even think of anything else, except her. I wanted her final months to be peaceful, and I couldn’t ruin that. And then...’ she might as well tell him. ‘After she died, you were so grief stricken. I didn’t want to be a burden. And it usually only happens at night, and I've found a way to cope. And I’ve got really good at caring for myself. Maybe I’ll be a nurse.’ She tried for a smile, but she wasn’t sure her father had even heard most of her speech.

‘Your mother would have wanted you to be safe in her final months,’ Selwyn said. ‘And that’s all I want for you. I wish you’d told me.’ Brienne shrugged, and shuffled herself down to the end of the bed, so she was closer to her father.

‘Dad, I am safe. I’ve been reading up on it, about this connection between soulmarks, and it’s more common than you think. Loads of people go through it. And I make sure to clean and cream and bandage the cut every time. If I couldn’t handle it, I’d tell you. But I’ve found a way to cope. Sometimes I don’t even notice the damages.’ She hadn’t told her father about her drawing because she knew he’d be all over it, asking her all kinds of questions she didn’t want to answer. ‘I draw soulmarks. Did you know there’s more than just the standard type? Some people have loads of soulmarks, and there are unperfect ones, and unrequited ones, and secret ones for people you love but shouldn’t which show up on your heart. Well, they think they do, there’s only been seven cases, but the professionals think it sounds promising. And, if you have an obsessive love, the soulmark shows up on a black circle, like a dark spotlight.’ Brienne had read about that just last week, and she’d been trying to draw them ever since.

‘Stop trying to change the subject,’ Selwyn said, but he sounded a little less sad than he had been. ‘Drawing, eh? You like it? Your mother was always creative.’ She reached out and squeezed her father’s hand, and let an internal sigh of relief go. She hadn’t been worried that he’d shout at her, but she had wondered if he’d been disappointed in her for not telling him sooner. Brienne was good at doing what you were supposed to do; and if you were in pain, you were supposed to tell an adult. ‘Come on, we better go. I’ve got you booked in for a skin graft this afternoon. If we leave now, we can pick up some treats for tonight. I think we could both use some sugar.’

Brienne stayed where she was.

‘Dad, I’m not getting another skin graft. If I wanted one, I’d have booked my own appointment.’ She’d looked it up eventually, now that computers and the internet was more easily accessible to her. You could book your own skin graft without letting your parents know, since it was a minor operation and highly unlikely to lead to a longer stay in hospital. It was advised that you told an adult, but Brienne guessed that people in abusive households, who had parents who scarred their own children’s soulmarks needed the option of a secret skin graft.

‘What do you mean you’re not getting one? Don’t worry about the money, you’re under eighteen. You can get a semi-permanent one, it should last for up to four years. Your soulmark is being damaged Brienne. I won’t allow you to continue with it this way.’

‘The skin graft will last until I outgrow it,’ Brienne said. She’d done her research, debating the past two years if it was worth it to get one or not, and in the end, she’d decided not to. She was still growing; she was the tallest in her year, even though several of the boys had shot up over the summer holidays. And she was sure she hadn’t finished yet. She didn’t know if her arms would stretch as she grew taller, but it didn’t seem worth it. ‘I might just have to go back next month and have tiny skin grafts on my elbow and wrist.’

‘Then we’ll go back next month for them,’ Selwyn said.

‘Neither of us have time for that,’ Brienne said. ‘I don’t want to go back to monthly skin grafts, Dad.’ She still had the memories of that children’s room, sticky hands playing with plastic toys, each of them called out one by one by a smiley nurse and the treats after each session. It was probably different for teenagers, but she didn’t want to find out.

‘Brienne,’ her father said, but she took a deep breathe. She needed to say what she had to.

‘Dad, I’ve been dealing with this on my own for years. Please, just trust me. I don’t want a skin graft, and I don’t want all the kids talking about me. I don’t want to have to go back each month and sit in a waiting room. I’m fine.’

‘And what if your soulmate does something horrible?’ Selwyn asked. Brienne thought about the first cut, the one that tore through her arm, that had made her spend thirty minutes in the bathroom, trying to stop the bleeding.

‘I can handle it,’ she said. ‘If there’s anything I can’t handle, then I promise I’ll tell you, and I’ll seek help. But they pretty much stick to the same handbook. It’s mostly just cuts.’ She thought about the burn on her arm, covering the Tarth family crest; but that had only happened once, and she hadn’t even noticed it at the time. So it was fine.

‘Brienne,’ her father said again, pleading with her. But she was adamant; she didn’t want skin grafts. She’d found a way to deal with the pain, and what if she couldn’t draw when her soulmark was covered, when she no longer needed an escape? Drawing and reading about different soulmark cases had become the only things in her life that made her happy, except for the family summer holidays and her gym sessions. Her soulmate had already taken so much away from her – she refused to let him take this choice away from her as well.

‘No,’ she said and her voice was firm. ‘I need to get this bandaged up, and go back to my lessons.’ She stood up to give her father a kiss on the cheek. It was her fault that he hadn’t known about her soulmark; but it had played out the way it had, and it was her life and her skin and she got to choose how she dealt with it. ‘Go back to work, and I’ll see you at home.’

Selwyn left, although Brienne knew that wasn’t the end of it. Then she squared her shoulders and went back to her life.

Although Brienne had been fearful that the kids at school would talk about her if she got the skin grafts, she needn’t have worried; they talked about her anyway. She’d always been an easy target, because of her build and her face, and that she let them vent themselves out on her, without once reacting. She was great at going away inside her own head, thinking about something else while they spewed their inadequate feelings onto her by stating the obvious.

As soon as she got back to the classroom, the kids who had been in the PE lesson with her broke into whispers, telling those next to them what had happened and why. The news that Brienne Tarth had a soulmark – and a damaged one at that - seemed to be all anyone could talk about the next few weeks. She tried not to let it get to her. To shut their words out, to concentrate on her drawings, to think about the latest soulmark case she’d read about and wonder if that would happen for her too, and she didn’t need to focus on the one she’d been born with, but their words trickled down to her. One rumour, that her soulmate had caught one sight of her face and run in the other direction and was why he was now harming their soulmark so that the connection would go away kept Brienne up at night even without the cuts. She wondered if it was true. She might not be the prettiest person in the world, but she liked to think she was a good person, or at least she knew worse people. Was her soulmate trying to sever the connection between them because they didn’t like her face?

She found an interview with an artist, Olenna Tyrell, who spoke about seeing her soulmate for the first time, and running in the opposite direction, and Brienne felt a sinking of her stomach. She’d told herself over the years that her soulmate wasn’t doing this to himself, that he would eventually one day escape the person hurting him. But as the years wore on, a feeling that it was Brienne’s soulmate doing this to them had started to sneak in. Her soulmate didn’t want to be with her. Her soulmark was hurting her.

It was a heavy thing to think about, so Brienne put it to the back of her mind, and concentrated on her drawing.

As the next few years wore on, every time Brienne woke up in the night with a fresh cut on her arm, she’d lie in bed, an emotion coursing through her before she could sort herself out. The hatred and anger she felt for her soulmate grew into a little knot inside her, and no matter how many cases she read about people who damaged their soulmarks, she couldn’t find any sympathy or sadness for them.

Her drawings started to attract attention, her teacher even entering her into a contest when she was sixteen. Olenna Tyrell was a judge, and when she came to the school Brienne was dying to ask her about her soulmate and why she’d left him; but she couldn’t. Her desperation would shine through she was sure of it, so instead she kept her head down and spoke with Olenna about her granddaughter and how she was starting to take an interest in painting.

A few weeks after that, her father sat her down and explained to her that he was dating again. Brienne already knew this, her father not being as subtle as he thought he was, but she sat through the speech she’d heard him rehearsing for the past two nights and nodded in all the right places.

Then he told her that a new soulmark had sprouted on him, and that he knew she was interested in things like that and asked if she’d like to see it.

They spent the rest of the night with Brienne examining his new unperfect soulmark. He was the first person she’d seen in real life who had more than one soulmark, and she was fascinated. It did actually happen! Even though he and Gail would eventually split up, they would first share time that would change them, and always stay with them.

As she drew the eye from her father’s neck that night, Brienne felt the first buds of hope sprouting in her chest. She hadn’t ever really considered that she might find someone to share an unperfect soulmark with, but seeing her father with one had given her a new dream to get lost in. So it wasn’t the true soulmark she’d been born with; that didn’t mean she was going to be alone forever. She hadn’t admitted to herself before that the reason she was so fascinated by strange soulmark cases was because she was secretly hoping she herself someday would experience the same thing, and she didn’t want to be caught unawares. She was glad she hadn’t realized it until that point; if she had, she probably wouldn’t have looked at another case again, because she would have been ashamed and embarrassed about what she was doing.

As it was, the night Brienne’s second soulmark appeared on her she was ashamed and embarrassed anyway. Gail had insisted on her and Selwyn attending a party with old friends of her family, and she’d tried so hard to be nice, taking Brienne out shopping for a new dress and doing her make-up for her. It wasn’t Gail’s fault that Brienne wasn’t suited to formal dresses, or the colour of make-up that Gail had. And Brienne had wanted to please her father so badly, that she’d gone along with it. She’d stood at the side of the room, her arms crossed, knowing that most of the kids are the party were talking about her, and counting down the seconds until she could leave. The house where the party was taking place was beautiful, and she was admiring the pillars that were dotted around the room, decorated with carved figures. She’d been perfectly fine to stand in her spot all night, but then he’d appeared in front of her. When Renly asked her to dance, Brienne had thought he was joking. But Renly didn’t seem like the type, and Brienne, against all her better instincts found herself trusting him. When she felt her father looking over at them, a hopeful look on his face, she accepted Renly’s offer, and let him lead her out to the dance floor.

It was the only time Brienne had ever been grateful for make-up; under all the foundation nobody would be able to see her blushes.

Her and Renly stayed on the dance floor for one hour and thirty three minutes. It wasn’t like Brienne had planned to keep track of the time, but she’d checked the massive clock at the end of the hall when Renly had first taken her hand, as she told herself she’d only stay for five minutes; and then again as her and Renly broke apart. They hadn’t even really been dancing, mainly just moving their heads and arms around and talking. He was easy to talk to; he, like her, was an artist. Both of them were planning on studying it further, and had won a few local contests. Brienne mentioned that she liked to draw soulmarks, and Renly had nodded and asked her questions about soulmarks and why she found them so interesting; and Brienne, who so very rarely got to speak to anyone about unusual soulmark stories because nobody really cared became someone new. She was open, and made jokes, and her smiles came out easily because someone was paying attention to her, and it was a new feeling for her. And Renly was good looking.

When Selwyn started making motions from the edge of the dance floor that him and Gail were ready to leave, Brienne stepped back, smiling as she looked into Renly’s eyes.

And it was so stupid, because of course she couldn’t feel the soulmark appearing on her chest. There was nothing to warn her about it, except for the sudden horror on Renly’s face, and the automatic step he took away from her, his eyes now glued to a place just below her face. In the years that passed, Brienne imagined she’d seen a dark blob take shape under Renly’s white t-shirt; but of course she hadn’t. Instead, she’d taken a step back as well, before looking down, praying that was what happening wasn’t; and then as Renly gaped at her, lost for words, she turned and fled to her father, hiding the tears she refused to let fall.

A damaged soulmark was bad enough; to then acquire an unrequited one was downright hideous.

It took a couple of weeks for Brienne to recover from that night. She couldn’t stop looking at the knight on her chest, at the lines running through it, letting the world know that Brienne loved someone who wouldn't ever love her back. And her hope that she would one day find someone who did love her, diminished. Two soulmarks were rare; any more than that was practically unheard of, at least in the books Brienne read, and on the chat rooms she frequented. Renly had been her once chance for love, but he would never love her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of her face. Would Renly have loved her if she’d been pretty like all the other girls had been at the party? If she had long hair, or longer lashes, if she wasn’t so freckly, if she wasn’t so tall, or muscly? Would she be loved then?

But then her father appeared at her door with hot chocolate and funny stories and she remembered that she was loved, and would always be. She didn’t need some boy to like her back to know that.

At school, she kept both her soulmarks hidden. A few students still talked about her in the hallways when there was no other gossip, and whenever her soulmark hurt she learned to ignore the pain and carry on with what she was doing so that the rumours wouldn't start up again. She briefly wondered if Renly would try to carve their soulmark off his chest and she’d have to deal with that as well, but the knight stayed the same through the years, and Brienne eventually stopped worrying about it.

The night before her 17th birthday, Brienne booked herself in for a skin graft. She was getting tired of replacing bandages whenever they grew dirty, and having to stock up on them. Of wondering looks from people she’d just met, wondering what she may possible have done to herself, and of adults taking her aside for ‘conversations’ so they could try and suss out if she was hurting herself. She was still growing, but it was slowing down, and she’d measured the length of her forearms every night for a year, and they didn’t seem to be getting any longer. She could tell her father was happy; he took her to the appointment, and stayed in the waiting room while she underwent the skin graft, and then took her out for steak afterwards.

She would have up to four years without it, and the emotions that rushed through her every time she caught sight of her blank skin was astounding. She was no longer scared that she wouldn’t be able to focus on her drawing without the pain; she’d spent too much time honing her skills for that. But when she went to university, she wouldn’t have pointed questions and whispers following her everywhere.

The day she left home for university, both she and her father cried, although Brienne was good at pretending she hadn’t. Her father now had another girlfriend, Gail having left for a job overseas, and Brienne had been amazed that yet another soulmark had showed up on him. Selwyn now had three, and although this was another unperfect one, Brienne was glad he had someone to spend his evenings with now that both she and Gal had moved out. She was three hours away from London, and she hated the idea of him roaming around their small house each evening after work, and making dinner just for one. At least she could take comfort in the knowledge that someone would be there with him; at least for a little while.

Brienne had chosen her university because it had a great sailing team, and a fantastic art program. She thanked her lucky stars on a daily basis as she settled into student life that she had Selwyn as a father; when she’d told him she wanted to do art, he’d just nodded and told her it made perfect sense. He never even wondered what it would mean for her future; if the worst happened and Brienne couldn’t find any work, she could always take up waitressing at Tarths. Most of the students on Brienne’s course spoke about how their parents had barely let them take Art as their course, since it would be hard to find a proper job afterwards, and the rows that had followed.

The first year passed uneventfully, and Brienne was grateful for the normality of it all. It had taken her a little while to adjust to a sleeping pattern where she could sleep through the night, but she couldn’t deny it made her senses sharper, and her drawing better. Under the instructions of her professors she learned new styles of drawing, how to put her own little spin on the images she recreated. She didn’t find anything she liked drawing as much as soulmarks, but she turned her hand to everything that was asked of her. One of her final pieces was her professors soulmark (two swords clashing in midair) drawn in several different styles. She was the proudest she’d ever been of it, and although she wouldn’t say she enjoyed the praise, having students she didn’t know come up to tell her how amazing her drawings were gave her a new sense of confidence she’d never experienced before.

Brienne’s nights were filled with rowdy evenings down at the local bar with the rest of the sailing team. She’d made the team on the first try, and they were an easy bunch to get on with, even if they did have a thirst for beer Brienne could never seem to keep up with. She knew her limits, and she didn’t like to feel drunk, and slightly out of control so she kept a tight lid on her drinking; she was perfectly happy just to sit and watch them dance on the tables, or get into loud arguments about anything and everything. Nobody talked about soulmarks in this group, and even though Brienne was still reading anything she could get her hands on about new cases, she found that it was relaxing, not to have to think about them constantly. The knight on her chest was there for all to see; but not many people realised what the lines drawn through the image meant. And the ones who did, usually just exchanged a sad smile with Brienne and passed over it.

In her second year, Brienne met Tormund. He was on the sailing team of a rival school, and Brienne attracted his attention right away. He was a big guy, with shaggy ginger hair and a beard, and Brienne would be lying if she said she wasn’t also slightly attracted to him when she first saw him. He wasn’t the type of guy she usually felt an attraction, but she’d seen him out on the water, his muscles straining, him yelling instructions at his team and something she didn’t know she possessed stirred inside her. She’d been thinking about losing her virginity for a while, not wanting to be the last one on the sailing team, even though she knew nobody cared. In all honestly, she didn’t either; but if the opportunity presented itself, Brienne knew she’d regret it if she didn’t say yes.

The day before they were racing Tormund’s team, Brienne’s team went for a practice on the water. The weather was shitty, and they had a new sub on their team who hadn’t been tested with the rest of them yet, but their regular hadn't been able to make it. As they turned into a rough wave, the guy leaned forward, his hands fluttering over Brienne’s bottom as she passed in front of him, a smirk on his face as he thought he’d been able to get away with it.

Before Brienne could think about what she was doing, she’d turned and punched the guy in the face, and then switched straight back into sailing mode. Only when they pulled back up to the dock, the guy’s nose gushing blood had she explained to everyone what had happened. Her team and the coach knew that Brienne wouldn’t lie, not about that – and none of them wanted to lose one of their star players. They sent the sub off, never to be heard from again, and crowded around Brienne asking if she was alright, and she told them she was. For a second the pain of her soulmark damages passed through her mind, but she shoved them back where they belonged and got on with her day. She didn’t have to think about that for at least another year, so she wouldn’t.

Tormund approached her afterwards, still wiping the tears away from his laughing fit. He’d been watching her from the side-lines, and it almost felt like they were meant to be together. Not because they had that strong feelings for each other, but because they were both big and liked sailing and Tormund’s loudness and dirty jokes scared away other women, and Brienne’s quietness and her ability to let everything pass her by while she got lost in her own head or her drawings seemed to give her an aura that nobody else even attempted to penetrate.

They’d been dating for five months when Brienne felt the first stirrings of tension. They spent almost everything weekend together, Tormund travelling down to see her, or her up to see him, and it had been fine. Brienne did all the things girlfriends were expected to do, and for a while, she enjoyed the novelty of it all. Holding hands in the street, having someone to text before you went to bed at night, being able to call someone up when you felt a little lonely and having them talk to you until you felt better. She liked browsing the men’s clothes at stores and debating if she should pick something up for Tormund while she was there. It was nice to speak to her father and reassure him that she wasn’t alone. No soulmarks appeared on either on them, and Brienne was torn. Half of her was frustrated that they didn’t appear, because what if Tormund was all she was destined for? Why couldn’t she have the soulmark to prove it? But the other half, that half that she ignored and shoved down, was glad nothing had appeared. If they did, she’d be tied to Tormund in a way she didn’t even want to think about.

They were together for a year, before Brienne called it quits. Tormund had lost his temper at a party surrounded by people Brienne knew, (she was sure it had been Renly in the corner, with some woman she thought looked vaguely familiar hanging onto his arm. She’d heard he was going to school around here as well, although she’d also heard talk he was planning to drop out and start up his own business.), all because some random guest had looked at Brienne in a way Tormund didn’t like. It was the perfect excuse to call things off, and Brienne was grateful for it; and then felt sick about being grateful. She didn’t know how to handle the whole dumping someone thing, so she stood in Tormund’s dorm while he sobbed and begged for another chance. But Brienne knew they’d run their course; she couldn’t settle for Tormund, just because there might be nobody else out there for her. She’d rather be on her own than put up with Tormund’s drinking and partying which was getting out of hand.

The night after the break up, Brienne woke, gasping in her bed, her heart thumping as a pain she hadn’t felt for years spread through her body. Her skin graft was up, and although her soulmark hadn’t fully appeared back on her arm yet, she knew it would only be a matter of weeks. For the next four days, her mind was plagued with thoughts about her soulmark; what did it look like now? It had been three years and nine months since she’d last seen it, and the pain from last night told her that not much had changed; her soulmate was still trying to destroy it. She’d read a great book about dead soulmarks a few months ago, and even though she knew it was silly to hope, she’d had a secret wish that hers would have become one; that the connection between her and her soulmate had been so utterly destroyed that her soulmark would look like a tattoo. If that was the case, Brienne had been planning to go to a Pellisanima to have her damages fixed. Then, she could track down a tattoo artist who would help cover it for her, and she’d finally be free.

The idea of getting her soulmark fixed had occurred to her before, but it wasn’t really an option. Her soulmate was still hurting himself, and there would be no point in getting it healed, just to have it slashed through again. Brienne had read up on some treatments over the years, but it just seemed like it would cause her a lot more pain, only for her soulmate to ruin the whole thing. So she tucked the wish away, and got on with her life, packing for the summer holiday to the island with her father. Gal had agreed to join them there this year, and it would be nice to see her older brother, who always had a hundred stories about the places he’d been and the people he’d met and the animals he’d photographed. And her father was always distracted with Gal around.

It was during that summer, while on the island, sailing with the locals she’d grown up with, that Brienne tore the ligament in her arm. A small storm had blown in, and while most of the people who didn’t sail had warned the team not to go out, those who sailed were more than up for it. It wasn’t a big storm, and they weren’t going to go too far from the port, and things needed to be checked. Selwyn hadn’t wanted Brienne to go, but she’d insisted and he let her as always.

She slipped. It wasn’t a wrenching on her arm as she tried to help with the sails, or trying to help someone back into the boat; she was resting on the side, during a slow moment, and her hand slipped out from underneath her on the slippery side, forcing her arm over the side, sending a snap up her arm. Brienne was so good at not reacting to pain these days, that she didn’t even mention it until the team had returned to the island, soaking wet but happy. Then she told her father, and they spent the rest of the evening sitting in A&E, even though Brienne had told him it wasn’t necessary. The pain was bad for the first few hours, but being in the freezing cold water had numbed her arm and she’d taken pain killers; she could barely even feel it anymore.

The doctor they eventually saw gave Brienne more painkillers and some exercises to do, and then handed her a cuff that would hold her arm ligaments in place for the next few weeks while the one she’d hurt repaired itself. Brienne could still picture the moment the doctor pulled the cuff out from under his desk, and handed it to her. No more bandages. No more wondering looks, and, if she didn’t want them, no more long sleeves t-shirt. She wore the cuff with pride, telling everyone about her injury, but smiling though the explanation so broadly that most people wondered just how strong the painkillers she’d been given had been.

Even when the ligament had healed, Brienne kept the cuff on. Her sailing team asked her about her injury, and she told them it was taking a while to heal, but she could still manage to do her job on the team; she’d pretend to take a few pain killers and a relaxing bath afterwards and nobody was any the wiser.

The only time Brienne took the cuff was over the next few years were when she bathed or showered. She’d scrub the arm, keeping her eyes averted from the mess on her arm, so she never had to know what it looked like these days, and then fixed the cuff back on as soon as she could. (It was waterproof, so she could have bathed with it on, but she liked to clean the blood from the previous night's damages away.) It gave her a new sense of confidence, and when her university days came to an end, Brienne pulled her big girl boots up and called the one person who had a job she might be interested in.

Renly was nothing if not casual when she spoke to him. Brienne had made a bit of a name for herself with her soulmark drawings over the years. She probably could have launched her own business, but she much preferred the idea of going into an already established one, where all she needed to focus on was the art, and not the accounts or the legal side of things. Renly’s business had been up for a year now, and he was looking for a couple of people to come and work for him. It was Brienne’s perfect job, and so she put her fears aside and went after what she wanted.

Renly didn’t mention the soulmark, just the awards and contests that Brienne had won in the intervening years, and that he was dating Olenna Tyrell’s granddaughter. Brienne took his lead, and thanked him, and told him she and Olenna wrote to each other a couple of times a year. The interview consisted of Brienne taking copies of her work to Renly’s offices in London, him looking at them, and then offering her the job on the spot.

Her father took her out for lunch to celebrate, and then it was a whirlwind of trying to find somewhere to live and furnish it, getting through her final exams, and saying goodbye to all her friends. Her father, who’d been talking about selling their family home for a year now, put it up for sale, and decided to take the flat above Tarth’s, which had stood empty for years. He explained that he didn’t need the space, and that the flat was roomy anyway, and he gave Brienne and Gal a share of the sale. Brienne put down a deposit on a flat, and Gal used his to book a holiday or three.

Brienne went about the life she’d built up for herself. Her soulmark still hurt some nights, but she’d learned to tune it out; sometimes she didn’t even wake when the damages occurred anymore. The only way she knew about them was when the shower water turned red in the mornings, and even that she ignored.

She brought clients into Renly’s business, and made small talk with the guys he hired, although none of them really made much on an impact on Brienne. They were the people she worked with, but that was all; she had her university friends and her sailing buddies, and the women from the gym if she needed them, and that was enough. Sometimes Renly and Margaery would invite her out with their friends, and sometimes she’d accept. It was a good life, but after a few years, Brienne started to feel some discomfort with it. It took a while for her to realise that she hadn’t felt pain in her soulmark for months – that the shower water no longer turned red – that she was sleeping the best she had since she was a child. But she couldn’t let herself hope. She’d had weeks or months before where nothing had happened, and then the pain ripped into her like it was the first cut all over again.

But it was also the team she now worked with. She’d noticed the men giving her looks, and being nicer to her than usual. Hyle Hunt, someone she’d never even taken notice of before except to wonder why Renly had let him into the business, since his soulmark drawings left a lot to be desired, had started to pull up a chair to her desk at lunchtimes and make conversation. She wondered if Renly had told them to include Brienne a little bit more, although she still wasn’t invited to their post work drinks on Friday evenings. And then Hyle hit on the one thing that would get Brienne talking – soulmarks and the unusual cases she’d spent a lifetime researching. It was hard not to open up when she was talking about something she was passionate about, about a subject close to her heart, that nobody was really bothered about. Even the guys bringing soulmarks to life in their drawings didn’t care about the stories behind what they were painting; just who was paying their wages. Eventually she considered her and Hyle friends, and she made a list of films he could watch if he was really interested in finding out as much as he could about soulmarks.

The first time Brienne went to Dr Starks offices, she was almost sick with nervous energy. She’d heard the doctor and Renly on the phone the evening before, Catelyn Stark shouting that Renly was trying to fob her off with one of his workers; and Renly pleading that that wasn’t the case at all, he was just tied up with something and couldn’t get out of it, not even for his favourite client. (A boy’s holiday with his buddies as it turned out; they went skiing for three days, and Renly arrived back at the offices hung-over, spending the entire day lying on his desk and thanking Brienne for the coffee she’d bring him.) The doctor had greeted Brienne, but there had been a hard set to her lips, and Brienne had fumbled with her pens.

All her nervous energy vanished as she stepped into the lobby. Pan pipes were playing above their heads somewhere, and a lovely smell was wafting around. Brienne didn’t realise how tense she was most days now – only when she relaxed, did she feel the absence of the tension that had been running through her. There was a heavily pregnant woman on the desk, who smiled at Brienne but otherwise paid her no attention as she followed Catelyn through to her office. The client was already there, a nervous young man with his back exposed to the two women. Brienne heard little about his story that day; she wasn’t there for that. Instead, she asked him questions about what his soulmark had looked like, but he was only sure of the outlines; he’d never seen his soulmark, since it was on his back and the damages had been done to him when he was young. Brienne nodded and got to work, tracing in the details he could remember, and asking questions that would get him to open up to her. Because of her research, she knew that most people had some kind of connection to their soulmarks; she still remembered sitting at her desk as a child, the sun and moon appearing in her mind even though she‘d never seen them before. The man’s soulmark started to come alive on the page as Brienne asked him all the questions nobody had thought to ask him before, as she gave him time and space to think about and connect to the soulmark on the back of his shoulder. Catelyn Stark sat in her desk chair, and Brienne could feel her eyes on her as she worked, but she didn’t say anything, and Brienne was grateful; the slightest distraction could tear someone away from the connection.

At the end, Brienne showed her work to the doctor and her client, and for a moment she thought they hated it. Then she noticed the client’s eyes were shinning as he looked at the soulmark he’d never seen before, and that Catelyn was matching up the drawing with her client’s soulmark, so she could judge how well it had been done.

When Brienne left the offices, Catelyn smiled at her, and Brienne felt for the first time in a long time that she’d done something worthwhile.

The next time Renly asked Brienne to go to Catelyn Stark’s offices, he sounded upset, and Brienne knew it was because Catelyn had asked for her, and not for Renly. Renly and Margaery had just split up, so he was going around like he had a constant sore head, even though Brienne had never understood why the two of them had been together; but then she’d wondered if that was jealousy showing through, so she shoved her thoughts down and spoke about them to nobody. No one knew what went on in somebody else’s relationship.

Brienne went back, and this time Catelyn was warmer towards her, shaking her hand, and talking to her more. Brienne once again felt herself relaxing in the lobby. She loved drawing the soulmarks and helping people out, but the day to day of her life with Renly, drawing soulmarks for people for absurd amounts of money was starting to grate on her. When Catelyn mentioned with a sigh that her assistant would be leaving in two months, a plan started to form in Brienne’s mind. But it was silly; she’d never been an assistant before, and she had no medical knowledge. She knew about soulmarks, but that was all. And she couldn’t trade in a job she’d spent years training for. She couldn’t.

Even so, two weeks later when she saw the advert in a newspaper she couldn’t help but log onto the website and fill in the application form. She didn’t think that anything would come of it; Catelyn would have loads of applicants, most of who had probably had receptionist experience. Renly had assigned her and some others on the team a big job working for a client on a wall mural of their soulmark, and Brienne was already dreading it. She’d heard all the stories about Mr Tarly; an unpleasant man, who’d hired them even though his own son was pretty good at drawing soulmarks (he’d applied for a summer job with Renly last year, and had stuck around for three weeks before some of the other men had driven him out.)

She was tasked with interviewing Mr Tarly, finding out the details for the job and making rough sketches of the soulmark so that she could take it back to the team. Usually she got along with her workmates – but usually they were assigned their own separate jobs. When it was just nodding to each of them in the morning she could handle it. Being on a job with them for what was sure to last a couple of weeks would be tough.

Which was why she was so excited when she got the phone call asking her for an interview at Catelyn Stark’s offices. She was glad to take the day off work. Hyle was insisting on spending almost all his time with Brienne, and while she could still talk soulmark stories with him, his conversation always felt a little lacking.

The interview was great. Brienne had been nervous, and asked herself why she was going – there were several routes of questioning Catelyn could go down, and Brienne would have no idea how to answer them.

But it was fine. Years of taking care of her own arm had meant that Brienne had acquired the basic knowledge – how to deal if a client’s arm started bleeding, how to deal with a client if they had a panic attack, how to remain calm and friendly but not overstep the professional boundaries. Brienne started to feel that this job might be perfect for her. She was good at keeping her walls up, and presenting one version of herself to the outside world, while keeping the real her inside. And then her and Catelyn got talking about soulmark stories. Brienne who liked to collect them, asked the doctor about hers, and Catelyn told Brienne one of the most interesting stories she’d ever heard; matching soulmarks with brothers. Brienne had read a few cases of that happening, but to actually meet someone who’d lived through it was amazing. The interview lasted three hours as they talked about stories, and Brienne left, feeling a sense of happiness she hadn’t felt in a while. Her arm was currently fine, and she was going to enjoy that for however long it lasted.

The next day, Brienne found herself typing up her notice for Renly. She knew she wasn’t going to hear from Catelyn until the doctor had finished interviews, which would last all week as she wanted to give everyone a fair chance, and Brienne respected that. But still. The interview had sparked something inside Brienne that she thought had long died down; the passion to do something, to move onto a new chapter in her life. She printed the letter out, but didn’t put any dates on it, and slotted it into one of her sketch pads. She still didn’t think that she would get the job with Catelyn, but she felt certain that she would need it at some point.

Catelyn called her two days later to offer her the job, and Brienne spent the entire weekend smiling.

The smile was wiped from her face on Monday when she arrived at work, to find Mr Tarly waiting for her. She was the only one scheduled for today, which was how she liked it, and even after Mr Tarly told her that several members of her team had a bet on to see who could get her to sleep with them and had spent most of Friday talking about it, Brienne had controlled her emotions enough to get on with her job. In a way that she hadn’t had to do for a while, she lost herself in the drawing, focusing on it and nothing else around her. She didn’t stop until the sun was sinking in the sky and she forced herself not to let herself feel until she was back at home, in a bath, scrubbing the paint flecks from her body and watching the droplets slip off the cuff she covered her soulmark with.

A bet. It was all for a bet. All those nice words and compliments and questions about soulmark stories, so they could win a small bundle and have bragging rights.

The next day she got up, dressed and went to work. She answered their questions, and got on with her work and let her rage seethe and burn inside her, where she hoped it would eventually fizzle out. She wasn’t one for making a scene, and the idea hadn’t even really occurred to her. She wasn’t going to march in here, and scream and shout and throw punches. That wasn’t who she was, and although she felt she’d be perfectly capable of doing all of those things, she wasn’t going to let their stupid actions change who she was. Not when she’d be rid of them in a few weeks. If anything, she’d felt annoyed that she was now leaving; at the idea that they’d talk about her, about how they’d made her leave, how their stupid bet had gotten under her skin.

But she closed her eyes, and tried to relax her muscles and convince herself to be the bigger person; she was leaving because it was what she wanted to do. The job with Catelyn would make her happier, and that was all that mattered.

When Renly walked towards her, with an alarmed look on his face, she knew that he knew. She had wondered if he’d known about the bet, but she’d had to dismiss the thought because it didn’t bear thinking about. She gave him the letter, and he looked devastated, but he nodded and accepted it.

Brienne started her new job two weeks later, and left Renly’s without even so much as a goodbye. She picked up her bag on the last day, and walked out of the office, past the men who wouldn’t meet her gaze and out into the street, where she felt like she could breathe again.

The assistant job was everything Brienne had thought it could be and more. She loved sorting the office out, making everything neat and tidy and easy to find. She loved seeing clients come into their first meeting nervous and shaking and scared, and then a few sessions later calm and happy and relaxed.

It wasn’t all that plain sailing. A month after Brienne had started, Catelyn’s husband died, and Brienne worked overtime, rearranging the client’s appointments, and setting them up with other healers if they didn’t want to wait. She did shopping for the family she’d only met a few times because she knew that while neighbours might drop dinners off, the last thing anyone wanted was to stand over an oven for twenty minutes. She remembered after her mother’s death, her family had wanted quick and easy meals where you didn’t need to concentrate and the only thing on your mind was stopping the annoying hunger pangs so you could go back to your grief in peace. Catelyn pulled herself together after a few weeks, and although Brienne knew it would take her longer to get back to seeing clients, she came into work each day, and took over the shopping.

When Sansa Stark needed saving from an abusive relationship Brienne was there for that too, keeping things at the office ticking over while the Starks cared for her. Sansa had taken Brienne out for drinks one night when she’d first started at the offices and Brienne had never forgotten how kind the eldest Stark daughter had been, even if she had persuaded Brienne to drink more than she should have. Brienne spent a few weeks after everything went down mentally kicking herself for not seeing that Sansa was unhappy.

Things settled and Brienne found a joy in her new life. She took to drawing only once more when her father decided on a complete make over for Tarth’s; he wanted sea creatures painted on the walls and floors and Brienne couldn’t and didn’t want to say no when he asked her. But the whole week she spent painting, she was full of some kind of sick anxiety. She knew it was the emotions tied to her soulmark, years of that tight tense feeling of pain happening when she drew that was being transferred over; but she couldn’t stop it, and she was relieved when she finished. She made a silent vow to herself not to draw again, and while she missed the simple act, she knew she couldn’t put herself through that again.

She hired a therapist. She knew there were several issues that she needed to address, but it was still hard to release them, even to someone she was paying to listen to her. It took six months before she managed to talk about her soulmark and her old work team and her mother, and even then it was only sentences dropped here and there. But she continued to go because every week it got easier.

Life went on. She and Catelyn grew closer, and she went out with Sansa a few more times once the younger girl wanted to start rebuilding her life. She saw Renly whenever he came in to draw a client’s soulmark, and slowly, without talking about what had happened they began to paper over the cracks in their friendship. Brienne heard through the grapevine that Hyle Hunt had been let go from the business, and she was glad when she felt nothing. She couldn’t let those men have any more of an effect on her life than they already had. She went to Tarth’s for lunch most days, did her classes at the gym three times a week and dealt with clients during the week. Podrick Payne was the first client that she let the barrier down with, because he was sweet and earnest and it was just so hard not to like him.

She’d been at Dr Stark’s for almost two years and eleven months when the phone call came. At first, it was standard; a nervous man asking all kinds of questions. Whoever he was, he’d done his research; he knew the services that Catelyn offered and that she owned her own Shaving machine. He told Brienne that his name was Lancel, but Brienne knew how to tell when someone had given a fake name. He hurried the conversation along, and before he hung up the phone Brienne heard someone else in the background call for a ‘Jaime Lannister.’ It was standard here to have someone call with a fake name at least once a month; and a 50% chance that they’d call back to book an appointment. As it was a slow day, Brienne googled the name she’d heard because she was sure she’d heard it somewhere else before and it would bug her if she didn't figure out where she knew the name from. Lannister’s was the fanciest jewellery shop in London which was why the name sounded so familiar. She’d never so much as walked past it herself, tucked away as it was down the most impressive street in London but an odd film would use it as a background now and again and the heirs featured in the news now and then. Jaime was technically the middle child, Brienne learned that day, although only because he’d been born two minutes after his twin sister. Not much was known about his life; he seemed to be the most private of the three siblings, keeping his head down and his private life, private.

When a client came in, Brienne shut down the web pages and didn’t think about it again until Jaime Lannister called up with his real name to book his first appointment. Brienne went through all the questions, asking if he’d like complete privacy, and she could tell he was interested in the option, although in the end he decided not to. Most clients who called had already looked at the website, and if they wanted that they tended to ask for it before having to give any personal details over to Brienne. Brienne had never minded when clients didn’t want to share their information with her; she understood wanting to keep secrets to yourself.

The truth of the matter was that the first time Brienne met Jaime Lannister, she was more focused on internally kicking herself for not being there to greet him than she was about him. She took pride in her work, and in the business she worked for; she wanted the clients to feel safe and reassured during their first meeting, and she couldn’t do that if she wasn’t in the office. When she walked into the lobby and found him on the sofa, she felt a flash of irritation. He was nothing but polite about it, but she couldn’t stop the annoyance flooding though her. Clients were advised to come ten minutes early for their first appointment so that Brienne could make sure she had all the information but he’d arrived just a little bit earlier and caught her out.

Her annoyance had carried her through their first meeting while she confirmed everything she needed to. She’d already typed up all the information he’d given her over the phone, but she liked to check these things. It only took one mis-communicated number for things to go wrong.

He’d handed her the card with Tyrion’s information on, and she’d tucked it away into her notes, for the first time remembering this was the Lannister heir sitting in front of her. She wondered if she should feel excited or nervous or any other form of emotion than professionalism, but she couldn’t force herself into a feeling so she pushed the thought to the side. She’d spent years questioning her own feelings and what she should feel like and how would someone else react in the situation? Her therapist had told her that wasn’t helpful, so she stopped.

When she asked Jaime to give a little more information about what he was hoping Dr Stark to help with, she hadn’t been expecting him to uncover his soulmark. Brienne prided herself on controlling how she expressed her emotions but she couldn’t hide her shock, her face pulling into the expression before she could do anything about it. She looked away from his arm as quickly as she could, composing her features and hoping a blush wouldn’t give her away. It didn’t work; she still caught a glimpse of the scars that covered his soulmark, and for just a split second she thought ‘I bet mine looks something like that these days,’ before it floated away and she went back to concentrating on the client in front of her.

Because it wasn’t going to happen this way. Her soulmate wouldn’t just waltz into her place of work to get his soulmark healed. It wasn’t even an option that had ever occurred to Brienne.

They made a little more small talk, and then he went into his appointment, looking like a man about to be hanged, with secrets and pain behind his eyes, and even though Brienne had to emotional distance herself from the clients because she couldn’t get sucked into their lives, she couldn’t help the little flicker her heart gave as she watched him get swallowed up by the door.

Brienne sat back at her desk, getting on with her work, and waiting for him to emerge. All the paperwork was next to her, and it was a slow day. She caught herself more than a few times watching the sliver of the outside she had from her chair, out of the glass doors that led to the front. She missed a few things about Renly’s business, and one of those were the big glass windows that made up the back wall. When Brienne got lost in her own thoughts, sometimes all it took was a glance at the outside world to bring her back, to remind her that was more than what her brain was telling her.

She knew something was wrong when Jaime Lannister left his appointment; he was distant and distracted and she could see he was itching to get out of there; it was common after clients first met Dr Stark. The sudden idea that they’d have to concentrate on something that had been damaged for some reason or the other was a hard one to take. When he did leave, she watched him as he stood on the steps outside, not moving. It had happened to several clients before, and Brienne went to him because it was her job and he needed help.

And she thought she wouldn’t think about him again until his next appointment. She was wrong. That week, she tried to contact him no less than fifteen times so that he could confirm his next appointment, and every time another email, text or phone call went unanswered she bit the inside of her cheek to control her anger. Contacting clients to confirm appointments saved time, just in case they didn’t show. Since she’d had no word from him Brienne was a little surprised when Jaime Lannister strolled into his next Thursday appointment like he’d had nothing but a relaxing week.

She was already flustered after a conversation with Renly, who’d arrived to draw Jaime’s soulmark, about his staff and the bet they currently had about who could bring more business in the next three months. Brienne swallowed the flare of anger, that Renly could laugh and throw this comment out as though there was nothing there that could affect Brienne. She’d forgiven all of the men involved, including Renly, but it hurt to know that the bet about her had been forgotten by someone she thought was a friend.

When she questioned Jaime about the radio silence she'd received from him and he told her that he didn’t respond to most people, she felt cold water pour over her brittle emotions. She promised to keep it in mind going forward, knowing now that she shouldn’t expect him to reply, although privately she wondered how he could live like that; Brienne hated not replying to people, even if they’d only text her to inform her of something. She couldn’t not respond, even if it was just out of politeness.

When she walked into the appointment to give Renly and Catelyn their coffees, she couldn’t help but give her opinion. She could tell that Renly wasn’t happy with whatever he’d drawn by his body language; he always sat forward, like if he just leaned he’d be able to capture the image floating just beyond his vision and bring it to life on the page. Soulmarks were one of the hardest things to draw, even if you had them in front of you; the magic that glimmered from them was difficult to translate to paper. Drawing a soulmark where the person only had a vague idea of what it was, was even harder.

And maybe she wanted a little bit of petty revenge on Renly for his earlier conversation. She knew how he felt about soulmarks and how he believed they were science, just an extension of the body, even with his own story. He hated having to sit through any of the ‘connection’ methods Brienne had regularly used to get her clients to tell her more about their soulmarks.

She was surprised when Jaime asked about the pre-schooler method she suggested. Most people didn’t care about why it worked, just that it would. Before he could make up his mind, Brienne left them to it, not wanting to intrude any longer; this wasn’t her world anymore. She was the assistant who kept the front desk ticking over.

Her arm started to itch underneath the cuff, and she suppressed a sigh. It happened sometimes, when she hadn’t aired it out, and she supposed she couldn’t really remember the last time she’d taken the cuff off to wash the skin underneath. She’d owned two cuffs so that she could wear one even while she was washing the other, and when she swapped them over she’d use a flannel and some soap and water to keep the skin clean and fresh, but she supposed she might have been wearing this one a little long. She used the nearest object she could find to reach underneath the cuff; she’d taken it off to scratch once, and Catelyn had walked out. Brienne had reacted instantly, shoving the cuff back onto her arm, and although the doctor had raised an eyebrow, she hadn’t mentioned it but Brienne didn’t want to be caught out again.

When Renly came out, he looked so pleased with himself that Brienne knew it had been a success. She smiled at him as he left, then turned back to her work, still scratching underneath the cuff. The itching wouldn’t go away, but she’d have to wait to go to the bathroom to wash it until Jaime Lannister had left the building.

As it was, he still caught her by surprise, and his smirk and comments erased any left-over pitying feelings she might have had for him.

For two more weeks Jaime Lannister came and went to his appointment and they exchanged nothing more than polite conversation and questions about his treatment.

Brienne had bigger things on her mind.

Her soulmark had started to prickle again, mostly during the day, although sometimes she woke panting at night, even though she didn’t think the cuts were happening again. She wasn’t sure if it was all in her head, or if it was left over from past years, and was too afraid to check. Her arm had burned a week ago, and it had taken all her willpower to continue on with her day and not say a word to anyone.

She booked a skin graft, although she could only afford one for a month. She knew her father would help her out if she needed him to, and she knew she could apply for grants to have them done on the NHS if she needed to, but that it would take months for them to review her case. She didn’t want to wait that long, and she didn’t want to make her father panic, so she took herself off to the hospital on a Saturday afternoon, and spent the rest of the day lost between reality and the past, and staring at her new blank skin. She left the cuff off because it didn’t seem worth it, but she kept catching sight of her bare arm and panicking that she’d forgotten to put it on before she remembered.

She made sure to text Jaime Lannister about having to move his Thursday appointment, sure that even if he wouldn’t reply he would at least see the message. She even called up and left a message with his assistant.

When he walked into the building, Brienne had no time to think; she needed to get him to leave the building and fast. She knew that some of their clients thought they took confidently too seriously, but they dealt with medical records, and Dr Stark had built a reputation on it. They’d had clients change their mind halfway through the treatment, not ready to share their soulmark with the world, and they weren’t going to be the ones to force them to show their darkest secret.

She briefly thought about showing Jaime into the staffroom and letting him wait it out there, but Dr Stark’s current client had a loud voice, and there was a chance that Jaime might overhear something.

There was only one option she could think of; taking him to Tarth’s. It was the last thing she wanted to do (she could only image how Jaime Lannister who probably dined out at five-star restaurants would react to a nautical themed café where all the menu items were puns on seafood) but Catelyn was relying on her and Brienne couldn’t let her down.

‘What is this place?’ Jaime had asked six minutes later, as they entered Tarth’s. He asked more questions as Brienne settled at a table at the back. She’d left a note for Catelyn to explain what had happened, and she hoped the doctor would call soon and tell them to come back to the office. Brienne wasn’t good at small talk, and she couldn’t imagine that she and Jaime Lannister would have anything in common.

She was right about that, but she was also surprised about how easy it was to talk to him about soulmark stories and why she believed in the magic. She didn’t want to get too carried away – the last time someone had been ‘interested’ in her passion it had been Hyle Hunt and the less said about that the better -, but she needed to talk about something and Jaime was asking anyway. He’d asked about her own soulmark, nodding to the place on her arm where the cuff normally was, and Brienne had never been gladder for skin grafts. Her arm was pale and blank, but she still covered it with long sleeves because it was weird to look at. She knew Jaime’s soulmark was in the same place, but it wasn’t that uncommon a place; she could name at least ten people with soulmarks on their forearm. The lie she told him about the sailing injury slid easily from her lips, although technically the only thing she lied about was that she didn’t wear the cuff to cover something up. Everything else she told him was true.

It was only as Brienne settled back behind her desk, half an hour later, Jaime now with Catelyn that she wondered about his soulmark. She didn’t usually do this with client’s; it was none of her business after all; but some of the things he’d said had struck her as odd. The way he looked whenever he talked about the damages to it; the fleeting worry behind his eyes when she mentioned ‘secret’ love; the way he seemed to get lost in his own thoughts sometimes, like somebody else was there occupying them. Jaime was older than she was, Brienne knew that; and that he’d suffered a love story there could be no doubt. A mysterious woman who’d hurt him, Brienne assumed. Who’d probably helped to make the damages on his soulmark. Brienne would bet this woman was very beautiful; and she was tempted to google Jaime Lannister once again, to see if there were any pictures of him and this woman on the deepest darkest web pages. When she’d searched beforehand, the only photos had been of him and his twin sister Cersei, both smiling professionally into the cameras aimed their way.

But no. That would be crossing a line. And that was something Brienne wasn’t going to do. Their conversation from Tarth’s played on her mind as she went about her week, but it turned more to what Brienne had told him than what she wondered about his story; she hadn’t ever drawn her soulmark. The image of that first abandoned drawing flashed through her mind, and for some reason it wouldn’t leave her alone. She found herself doodling the outline of her soulmark, the sword she hadn’t thought about for years.

The next Thursday Jaime brought his brother, and Brienne was happy to meet someone else who had an interest in soulmarks. She was also happy that Jaime had already watched one of the films on the list she’d given to him. She’d wondered if he’d just been making conversation last week, but that he continued it showed he had more than a passing interest. She passed a pleasant hour talking with Tyrion, pleased that he chose to share his soulmark story with her, even though it left several questions spinning around Brienne’s brain. He spoke a little about Jaime, and about a toxic relationship but Brienne refused to lead him any further down the path he was on, even though she had a burning curiosity she hated. Jaime Lannister’s former love life was nothing to do with her, and she would just have to accept that she would never know what had gone on; if Jaime chose to share details that was his choice and Brienne wouldn’t push him or ask questions of his family members behind his back.

She hated that she wanted to know more about a client or a handsome man or whatever Jaime Lannister was, so she shoved those feelings down because she knew where it led to. Instead, she concentrated on swapping more soulmark stories with Tyrion, and slipped her jacket on when she got a little cold. The heating had been playing up all week, and someone was supposed to be coming to fix it on Monday, so she didn’t worry about it too much; Tyrion seemed fine, and the problem was only affecting the lobby. It wasn’t an issue that the clients would pay too much attention too.

The next few weeks passed, and Brienne found herself forming a friendship with Jaime. He wasn’t the first person who’d become her friend this way, and Brienne reassured herself of that as they went for coffees at Tarth’s (which Jaime seemed to be obsessed with. Brienne liked it well enough, but his love for the place bemused her), and he talked about the films he’d watched. He met her father, and Brienne couldn’t help but be glad that they got along; and that Selwyn didn’t ask too many questions about Jaime. He was more concerned with finally getting the bathroom in Tarth’s repainted and trying to find someone who could replace the sign out the front of the café, (the old one displaying the sun and moon had been weather beaten, and you could barely see what the logo was supposed to be. The sign was causing more of an issue than repainting the bathroom, since Selwyn had very strong ideas about what the sign should look like.)

Brienne had started to notice little things about Jaime Lannister. How he always hunched himself together whenever his family were mentioned; how he avoided any subject of his twin sister Cersei, even though from what Brienne had seen they’d once been close; how he sometimes seemed so lost in his own thoughts and memories that Brienne had to call him several times before he came back to himself; and how he seemed to always want to make her smile. Brienne knew she could look friendlier in her day-to-day life, but since the people who pointed it out to her were the ones who usually pissed her off the most, she wasn’t going to change her resting face. But every time she let a smile slip out in Jaime Lannister’s presence, even if it was just a tiny one, he always ducked his head, and a soft smile lit up his own face, like a little kid who’d made a great personal achievement.

And she seemed to understand him in a way she herself couldn’t understand. After Jaime hit on Margery Tyrell, he made a cutting comment to Brienne, in a vague sort of way where he could deny it had been at dig at Brienne if she called him out on it; but she looked at him, at the pain and embarrassment shifting behind his eyes and she thought about the theory she was working on in her mind about his past relationship, and she let the comment pass even though she knew she shouldn’t. But she knew that calling him out wasn’t going to do any good; that Jaime’s reaction to barbed comments was to come back fighting and Brienne wasn’t going to get into a war of words with him.

And when he admitted that for a second, he’d wanted Margaery to be his soulmate, just so that all the questions would be answered Brienne felt a pang she hadn’t felt for a long time rear up inside her. Her skin graft was still covering her soulmark, but she knew it would fade soon. She’d long ago put aside the idea of getting to know her soulmate. She knew that at some point in her life she would bump into them, (only 1% of the population never bumped into their soulmate; and those tended to be ones who had been involved in freak accidents, or where their life had led them down a different path), but she planned to turn and walk away and never look back the moment she met them. People talked about having a feeling in their gut when they first met their soulmate, even before confirming they had the matching soulmarks, and Brienne was still waiting for that tug in her stomach to let her know the person she’d met was supposed to be the one. When she was still full of teenage angst and bitterness, she’d pictured telling her soulmate about how she’d never love them, and about the pain they’d caused her; but as the years had passed she’d watered down her daydreams. Turning and walking out of their life was the best way to handle it. She didn’t owe them an explanation, and she hoped that they’d spend their life wondering who was supposed to be on the other end of the connection. Brienne didn’t live her life in fear that very day would be the one where she met her soulmate; but sometimes she too wished it would be over with, and her questions answered. Because until she knew, she couldn’t fully put it behind her.

When they got back to the offices that day, Brienne felt restless. Her arm was itchy, and her mind was elsewhere, thinking about her soulmark in a way it hadn’t since she was a teenager. Before she could even register what she was doing, she’d picked up a pencil and a piece of paper and then she was flying, her fingers deft over the page, the shading, the lines, the lion’s head staring proudly back at her. She traced the sun and the moon at the top, before jumping out of her skin when she realised that Catelyn and Jaime were back in the lobby with her.

That hadn’t happened in a long time, and her mind had scrambled to pull itself back to the real world, the drawing flipped over before anyone else could see it, before Brienne could stare at her soulmark, whole and perfect in a way it had never been, at least not to her.

The only thing that moved her away from her problems that day were Jaime’s; after Catelyn had congratulated him on his sister’s engagement, Jaime’s face had fallen in a way that could only mean one thing.

That Jaime had been in love with his twin sister should have repulsed Brienne; that they’d probably been lovers, even more so. But she couldn’t find the correct emotions in herself; all she felt was an overwhelmingly feeling of sadness for this man who’d had to live with this secret. She told him about secret and shameful soulmarks, but made sure to keep her tone light and not to allude too heavily to what she suspected. If Jaime still loved his sister then that the soulmark on his heart hadn’t completely leeched out should provide him some form of comfort.

Although she couldn’t help noticing that Jaime ducked his head and blushed after he’d made her smile by calling her Miss Tarth as he left.

But she pushed that thought aside; she knew the trouble it could get her into, and she didn’t need another shitty soulmark to add to her collection.

Watching Pod and Margery meet was one of the most joy filled moments of Brienne’s life; but it was overridden by the pain she experienced when she told Jaime about the connection between soulmates, and how his would have been able to feel every single damage on his skin. She thought about her own, now covered back up by her cuff. It wasn’t fully back yet, but she’d caught a glimpse of the dark shape on her arm, and had reached for her cover. With the memory of it looking perfect on the paper at the office which she’d hidden in a drawer, she couldn’t look at the mess that was sure to be on her skin. She would have to at some point, she knew. She had to make herself face it.

But she’d do it in her therapist’s office, or with her father, someone to lean on for support, someone she trusted; unlike Jaime who had pushed her into telling him something painful. It was horrible to sit through, watching the feelings pass across his face, first horror and panic and pain then loathing and shame before he finally resigned himself to his fate. Brienne had always thought that he’d been planning on searching for his soulmate at the end of his treatment; but he seemed unhappy when he voiced this thought.

And Brienne found herself doing something she’d never thought she’d do; she reassured someone who had spent years damaging his soulmark, and hurting the person on the other end, that this wasn’t all their fault. She couldn’t bear to see Jaime so defeated and downtrodden, but she couldn’t lie to him when he asked her if she’d forgive him if she was in his soulmate’s shoes; the answer was no. She would never forgive her soulmate, and she would never ask for his story or be with him.

It didn’t even occur to her then, what might be happening.

Instead she went back to her life, remembering once she got home that Saturday that she was driving to a sailing contest tomorrow night. She hadn’t even thought about it. Her tickets had been purchased at the start of the year as they always were, but usually by now she was all ready to go; this time she went to sleep for five hours in between getting herself ready and reminding her father that she wouldn’t be around for the week, and replaying her last conversation with Jaime over and over again. She hoped his soulmate would hear him out. If they didn’t want to be with him that was fair; but he deserved to get his story across. Suffering as Brienne suspected he had, he deserved the chance the universe had provided him with to be loved.

On Monday morning Brienne woke to two texts; one from her father and one from Renly. So Jaime was hanging out at Tarth’s without her was he? She wondered if he was looking for other women to pick up, the way he’d tried with Margaery, but she threw that thought out quickly. If he wanted to blow off a little steam after what he’d learned on Saturday, he was allowed; and they were just friends. That was all.

The contest was good for Brienne; meeting old friends, spending the days on the water, the sea soaked into her skin at the end of each night, the rigorous strength making her sleep better than she had for weeks. On Thursday when her arm froze while she was on the water, she couldn’t do anything but concentrate on the tasks at hand and try to get through it, even though her thoughts were scrambling and she yearned for a pencil and paper. Once she got back to the hotel, she took the plunge she said she wasn’t ready for yet, and ripped her cuff off to stare at her soulmark. The sword was red and crusted with blood...but it didn’t look as bad as Brienne had thought it would. She could see patches of the soulmark on her skin when she’d been convinced every line had been slashed to pieces by now. Was it possible the years had clouded her memory? That it had become this giant, burning, hissing thing which couldn’t possibly be looked at, that she’d projected onto and made into the horror show that had lived in her mind?

It would appear so.

The pain was bad, but Brienne was an adult now, with knowledge; she ordered the medical creams that Catelyn recommended to her patients to her house where they’d be waiting for her tomorrow morning when she arrived back home; she took a couple of painkillers and had a warm bathe to take the sea salt from her skin; and she tried to relax and let go of the tension building up inside her. Yes her soulmate was back on the scene; but maybe this time she didn’t go into hiding. Maybe she didn’t just let them get away with the cuts and the burns and whatever else they were doing.

She applied the cream to her arm up to three times a day once she got back home, impressed by how well it seemed to be working. Since she wasn’t back at work till Monday she left the cuff off all weekend, trying to adjust to having her soulmark out in the open, and making her muscles relax whenever she tensed up after catching sight of it.

She wore the cuff when she went out in public and the relief it provided her with was almost a good as balm for her emotions as the cream was for her soulmark. She wasn’t ready for it yet; but that was okay. One day she would be. She continued to use the cream, and found herself staring at her soulmark each evening, tracing the lines of the sword, lines that she could have sworn had once been covered. She should have kept more of an eye on it; then she’d know for sure.

When Jaime came into the office on Thursday, a grin on his face when he saw her she knew she was supposed to be angry; he’d been talking about her behind her back, to her friends and family. Both her father and Renly had spoken to him about things that Brienne felt nobody had any right to talk about.

But she couldn’t be angry with him. He looked better than he had last week, and Brienne was glad that he’d found some way to carry on after what he’d learned about soulmark connections; and he looked so ashamed when she was reading the text from Renly out to him. She didn’t have the heart to stay mad at him, and she wasn’t very good at play acting, so instead she told him to ask her if he had any other questions about her history, and then told him about a soulmark story she’d been reminded of that morning.

When he leant over the desk, to stare into her eyes, Brienne’s heart stopped and for a second she wondered if this was supposed to be the moment, if this was what meeting your soulmate was supposed to feel like...but Jaime was a client and had a whole host of baggage that Brienne wasn’t sure she was up to the task of helping carry, so instead she moved back and told him that Dr Stark was ready to see him.

Catelyn had been dropping several hints about Jaime and Brienne’s relationship, but Brienne maintained that nothing was going on; he was a client and maybe a friend. She knew the doctor just wanted to see Brienne happy, and she didn’t like that Jaime was apparently making her so; but she also knew that Catelyn Stark, like most people believed in the magic of soulmarks. Since hers had connected her to both the loves of her life, she couldn’t understand how Brienne had no interest in trying to find hers. Even with Sansa and her story, Brienne knew Catelyn wouldn’t be happy until Brienne had finally met her soulmate and proved that nothing would happen between them. It was a hard belief to break, Brienne knew that. She knew Catelyn was just trying to look out for her, but it was all so complicated.

The next Thursday when Jaime arrived for the Shaving, all of Brienne’s feelings about being worried for him left her when she saw he was alone. Of all the things he could have done, this was the worst. Even his explanation was faulty, and Brienne knew he felt bad but it didn’t change facts.

She was still mad about it when he went into Dr Stark’s offices, and she wasn’t happy that the backup plan was for her to take him to Tarth’s. Her emotions were very close to the surface these days, and accidently opening the drawer where she’d been shoving all her secret soulmark drawings earlier hadn’t helped her today. She didn’t want Catelyn to see her drawing again, and to connect the dots. She would book one more skin graft, taking the money from her savings and then she would sort the issue of her soulmark out once and for all. She was debating hiring a tracker so that they could find her soulmate; she’d write them a letter, asking them to stop with the damages and hope that would put an end to this once and for all.

And then, maybe, finally, she could let herself move onto better things. Like dark blond haired men who were too good looking for their own good, and seemed to like to wind her up. Like men who grinned at her and made her blush, and men who she couldn’t stop thinking about. Like men who...

Brienne had been tidying up the office a little when pain like she’d never known ripped through her soulmark. She tore the cuff off her arm, staring as the flesh tore away from her in tiny strips, as blood welled up and over her arm, and she lashed out, crashing a vase to the floor and hearing a scream from Jaime.

She couldn’t think about what that could mean as she stumbled to the bathroom, trying hard not to get blood over the floor. She had to control this. She couldn’t scream or cry and curse, and she’d got so good at keeping the pain to herself that it was second nature to her now, as she stood, silently, her arm under the tap, staring at her pale face in the mirror.

Jaime had screamed at the exact second the pain had ripped into her. Her arm had been annoying her beforehand, that was true, but she’d ignored it until that moment. Not one second after, or before.

Which meant...

But no. It couldn’t be. Because that would mean...

She stood, dripping into the sink, watching the water run bloody, because she wasn’t sure even if the office blew up around her that she’d be able to move. She was rooted to this spot.

Jaime was having the Shaving on his soulmark today, and Brienne was currently watching invisible razors shave her skin away.

Jaime had had acid on his arm the day that Brienne felt hers burn.

Jaime had had his arm numbed the day Brienne’s had given up.

And Jaime had a history, with a toxic relationship with his twin sister where they’d cut into his soulmark night after night, ripping through the lines and twisting the colours, making patterns where there had been none.

Brienne tried to sort through everything she’d ever known in her head, to make sure she wasn’t jumping the gun on this one. But all the facts made sense. The dates added up, and every denial Brienne tried to throw into the mix was countered with evidence.

Jaime Lannister was her soulmate, and that meant that Brienne couldn’t hide from it any longer.

Chapter Text

‘You know the rest from there,’ Brienne said. Her voice was a little hoarse, but she didn’t reach for the drink next to her. Jaime wondered if he should. He needed something to help clear his head, to wash away the pictures Brienne had just painted him, something to drown his feelings in, even though he already felt like he was drowning. ‘At Tarth’s you told me you’d never put much store by your soulmark, and I refused to let you reject me. I thought we’d just go about our daily lives, and when I realised that you didn’t know I started thinking about what it was that you’d actually wanted to talk to me about.’

‘I was going to ask you out,’ Jaime said, his voice shaky. He felt like crying but he’d had it drilled into him that men don’t cry and even though he knew it was bullshit it seemed his tear ducts hadn’t quite got the message yet.

‘Yes,’ Brienne said. ‘As much as I still can’t wrap my head around that, it was the only logical conclusion I could come to as well.’

Maiden’s was cold, and Jaime shivered, pulling his jacket around him. They’d sat together for 40 minutes now, Brienne talking into the empty air, Jaime taking in as much as he could. Sometimes, when she told him something particularly horrible, he’d have to hold up a hand and she’d stop for a second, waiting as he processed. She never tried to make him feel guilty or shamed, just gave him the facts in a low tone, almost like she was talking about a third party, not her life and the horrors it had featured thanks to Jaime’s actions.

‘But you avoided me afterwards,’ Jaime said. ‘I thought it was because you didn’t like me.’ He tried for a smile but he was still too raw. Even when he’d undergone the shaving, he hadn’t felt as exposed as he did now, like his skin had turned inside out, like he wanted to scratch away his past, remove it from his person.

‘I knew I had to tell you,’ Brienne said. ‘You deserved to know the truth, but I couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’ Jaime asked. ‘I thought we were friends; you know you can tell me anything. I thought we knew that about each other.’

Slowly, Brienne moved her arm so it lay on the table between them, the soulmark laid bare for them both to stare at. ‘Because, we weren’t just friends anymore.’

No. This mark on their arms made them more than that; made them two people who had souls made from the same stuff. Who’d been built with the potential to be in love and happy, together forever and all that bullshit.

‘I’m pretty sure you should be able to tell your soulmate anything,’ Jaime said. Matching her movements, he laid his arm on the table, careful to leave a gap between their flesh. The only differences were the darker skin tone on Jaime’s arm, and the red flaky patches still around the outskirts of his soulmark; the places that hadn’t been as well looked after because Brienne’s care and attention hadn’t extended to them.

‘And when I told you we were soulmates, what then?’ Brienne asked. ‘What would you have wanted?’

‘Well,’ Jaime said, and he tried to think about it. ‘I suppose...I would have wanted the same thing I wanted before I knew we were meant to be together.’

Brienne nodded her head like he’d just confirmed all her theories, but Jaime didn’t understand. Her story was supposed to help him know her a little better, to get him to know how she’d felt all these years.

‘I thought you didn’t want to be with your soulmate?’ Brienne said. ‘As you said, you never put more store in your soulmark.’

‘But -,’ Jaime said, then stopped. He’d never wanted to be with his soulmate, but for the past few months that had been because he’d wanted to be with Brienne instead. The fact this his soulmate was Brienne; it was more than he’d been hoping for. Soulmarks hadn’t appeared on them once they’d met because they’d been born meant for each other.

That was how he felt.

‘But you don’t want to be with your soulmate,’ Jaime said, the words sticking in his throat and fighting to get out. She’d told him that hadn’t she? The day Margaery and Pod met, he’d asked her if she could forgive her soulmate if they’d treated their soulmark like Jaime had treated his; and she’d answered him with a ‘no’ so firm and so final that there was no doubt in Jaime’s mind that Brienne’s soulmate had never been a viable option for her. ‘You hate your soulmate.’

He’d thought being rejected by Margery was hard to bear. He’d thought breaking things off with Cersei and choosing to put her firmly in the past would break him, and that he’d never be able to get up again. He’d felt like he’d bled when Brienne had begged with him not to ask her out.

But this was all those combined, with a feeling like a thousand bricks had just slammed on top of him.

They sat in silence, until Jaime couldn’t bear it. ‘I should let you get back to work,’ he said, fumbling as he stood. He wanted to have one final look at Brienne but he couldn’t bear to, because he didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop. But he had to; because he’d always regretted never getting one last look at Cersei, and he couldn’t not have an image of Brienne to come back to.

‘Jaime,’ she said, but he shook his head, as he drank her in. The colour in her cheeks had fled, leaving her pale, and her freckles displayed clearly. Her blue eyes were open and wide and full of emotions Jaime couldn’t even begin to read; and her chest was heaving as she stared back at him.

‘Please, tell Dr Stark I’m sorry,’ he said, taking a few steps back. He had to leave. Now. Sitting across from her was too much. Maybe she’d been onto something with avoiding him. It was the only way to get through this.

He turned and left, not caring that the only other customer craned their neck to look at him, or that the barman shouted something about ‘rude customers’ after him. A bitter wind had swirled through town and found it’s place here, and he tucked his hands under his arms, trying to warm them up a little as he ducked his head and hurried away. Jaime didn’t want to be on his own tonight, too afraid of doing something stupid and reckless and regrettable, but he didn’t really have a choice. Tyrion was still celebrating his wedding day, and Jaime couldn’t face going to the office, staring blankly at his computer screen for the rest of the day. He’d have to lock himself in his house, drowning out the images that wouldn’t leave him alone.

‘Jaime.’ Her voice was behind him, and it shouldn’t have surprised him that she’d kept up with him; but it did surprise him that she’d followed him. Was this just another check on his mental health? Was she here to make sure he had someone to support him in his hour of need?

He couldn’t not turn back.

‘You’re right. I do hate my soulmate; I told you about that dark, tight ball that formed in my heart for them; and the truth is, I don’t think I’m ever going to be rid of it. There’s too many years, too many damages for it to ever leave me.’

He wondered if this was what it had been like for her; having the cuts slashed across her skin over and over again with no sense of it ever letting up. He wondered why he was still standing here, letting her words pierce him; he wondered how many times he could let this woman reject him, until he’d stop coming back for the 1% chance that her answer would be something different.

‘I hate my soulmate,’ Brienne repeated. ‘But I don’t hate you.’

‘Then how do you feel about me?’ He asked, taking a step towards her. The wind blew her hair to the side, whipped around their faces, took his words and flung them at her. The street around them was empty at this time on a Thursday afternoon, and Jaime hadn’t realised that the sky was darkening. There was a storm coming, grey spreading across the blue that had been there an hour ago.

When Brienne did nothing except bite her lip, Jaime tried for a grin, but knew it had come out horribly mangled. He sighed and shook his head, hating that bloom of hope he’d felt sprout inside him.

How many times could he do this?

‘You have to give me a minute,’ she said, and Jaime snapped his head up. ‘This isn’t easy for me. I don’t...I don’t talk about feelings. I need to get the words right.’ The woman who’d spent years boxing up her emotions so her peers wouldn’t see her pain, shoved her hands in her pockets and looked up at Jaime with a fire blazing in her eyes. ‘I don’t have favourites. I know that sounds sad, but it’s true. I love all the colours, and I like too many songs to have just one and I know you asked me about my favourite soulmark story but the truth is if you’d asked me the week before I’d have said a different one and if you asked me today, I’d tell you about the Prince and the woman he’s just left his beautiful young wife for because of the tiny black heart under his eye that he was born with but was forced to cover up because of Royal protocol.’

‘Brienne,’ Jaime said, and she nodded quickly.

‘I’m sorry, that story isn’t important. What is important is that I don’t have favourites...but recently I discovered that Thursdays had become my favourite day. I didn’t realise at first. I enjoy my job, so that I was happy to go into work wasn’t a big deal. But then one of the women at my gym asked if I had news I wanted to share. She’d noticed that on a Thursday I was cheerful. That’s not a word usually used to describe me. But she said I seemed happier and asked if it was a new class and if so could she have the details? And I thought maybe it was just a good day. Maybe I’d had a lovely conversation or had spent the day laughing, or even just a really good cup of tea.’ Jaime couldn’t tell if the sheen to her eyes was because of the wind or her words, but he knew his looked the same. ‘And for two weeks I didn’t understand. And then I went to Portsmouth and I didn’t even think about work while I was there...until I woke up on Thursday morning and realised that I wouldn’t get to see you that day, and felt annoyed about it. I hated that I was annoyed by it; I was supposed to be mad at you because of the messages that my father and Renly had sent me. I wanted to be mad at you, but I couldn’t, because I missed you. And when I saw you the week after, I knew you were the reason why Thursdays had become my favourite day. And you were the reason I was taking my time in the shower; because I was checking for soulmarks I didn’t want, because I wanted to know that there was potential with you.’ The wind brought leaves around their feet, and stirred Brienne’s scarf around her face. Jaime had walked far enough from Maiden’s that nobody could see them on this stretch of street but Jaime almost wished he could have had an audience, a witness to Brienne’s words. He wanted a video recording and somebody to write it all down so it would always stay with him.

‘I checked for soulmarks too,’ Jaime said. ‘My greatest fear was that an unrequited one would show up on us and then you’d know how I feel about you.’

‘It would never have been unrequited,’ Brienne said, and it was a strain to hear her over the wind. ‘But I need time Jaime. There’s so much to think about. So much I have to consider. I don’t know if I can do this, if I can let go of the damages. Those nights consumed me, and they gave me drawing...but they also took drawing away because I feel the anxiety and pain when I doodle now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jaime said, because he realised that he hadn’t. ‘I truly can’t tell you how sorry I am for everything that happened.’

‘I know,’ Brienne said, and she took a step towards him, letting her hand move up to cup his cheek, and wipe away the tear that was trickling from Jaime’s eye. ‘I know how sorry you are. I was there when you found out about the connection, remember? I saw how bad you felt, and I know you didn’t know, and I know...I know what happened. I know you didn’t do all those cuts yourself and I know how you feel about me, but what if I can’t let it go? What if that mark inside me takes over? I don’t think I could live with it if I resented you.’

‘The soulmark is perfect,’ Jaime said, clutching her hand to his face so she wouldn’t let go. ‘That means it’s for life, not just for Thursdays.’ The tears spilled down her cheeks the moment the smile split her face.

‘I’ve done nothing but think about this since I found out,’ Brienne said. ‘But I’m still no closer to any answer.’

‘Soulmark or no soulmark,’ Jaime said. ‘We could be something; I can feel that. I know that.’ It was too early to say that he loved her; but it building to that, and the idea that she could slip through his fingers, that she could pull herself back was too painful.

‘I feel it too,’ she admitted, and then she took her hand, wiping away her own tears and letting Jaime’s fall. ‘But I’ve spent too much time worrying about you without knowing anything, Jaime. I need to focus on me and what’s best for me right now. I just need some time.’

‘I know,’ he said, and he stepped back, wishing for so much. Past, present and future. ‘Just promise you’ll tell me when you decide.’ This had to be her choice. He’d taken away so much from her, without knowing.

‘I promise,’ she said. ‘This hurts me too, Jaime. I wish we didn’t have to live in a world where the mark on your body decided who you were meant to be with; that we had the option to choose for ourselves; that it didn’t lead me to the person who’d destroyed me. Because in that world, I think I’d choose you every time.’

The pain ripped him from heart to heel and he stepped backwards once again. How could he have even asked her to consider him? He’d destroyed her childhood and her teenage years; he shouldn’t get the chance to destroy her adult life as well.

But he was far too selfish and far too gone to take himself out completely. He couldn’t walk away from her now, not if there was a chance she wanted him in her life.

‘I’ll speak to you soon, Miss Tarth,’ he said, drawing the lines between them once again because he didn’t know how else to remove himself from this moment otherwise.

‘Goodbye Mr Lannister,’ Brienne said, and then she hurried away without even one glance back over her shoulder, although Jaime heard her sob as she left.

He had to swallow down his pain. He was still hurting her, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. He was destined to fuck up it would seem. His one defining character flaw.

A beep from his pocket brought him back to the real world, and he pulled his phone out, staring at the unknown number on the screen. He would let Brienne have time to get settled back in the office before he walked that way to leave the area. Running into her just ten minutes after that conversation would be unbearable.

For a second he wondered if this was her, telling him she’d thought about it and come to a decision.

But no. It was from Spider Inc, one of the other agencies Jaime had hired to help him track down his soulmate.

The name of your soulmate is Brienne Tarth. For more information, please contact the number below. Your account has been charged for this job; please find the invoice attached.

Jaime almost threw his phone at the pavement.

Chapter Text

When Jaime walked into Dr Stark’s offices the next Thursday, not giving himself time to think about it, he wasn’t surprised to see the red hair of Sansa Stark – or he supposed Sansa Lannister now – behind the desk, and he tried to ignore the despair he was suddenly plunged into. Since he still hadn’t heard from Brienne he’d known this was a possibility that she wouldn’t be here today.

Unless one of his new nightmares had come to life, and Brienne had been sitting behind the desk in front of a giant banner with just the word ‘no’ painted on it. Sometimes, Brienne and Dr Stark let off party poppers as Jaime walked into the offices. Sometimes Brienne just laughed at him as he stood on the other side of the desk watching her. Sometimes, she showed him her arm, with fresh blank skin; he was never sure if she’d had a skin graft applied or if the soulmark had faded from her skin. If anyone deserved to be free of their soulmate and soulmark it was Brienne Tarth for all the hell Jaime had put her through.

These nightmares, where Brienne rejected him over and over were favourable to the other ones that haunted him; the ones were the young girl Jaime had once seen in a photograph at Tarth’s lay in bed, thrashing as her skin split open.

It had been a hard week, and Jaime wasn’t surprised when the smile on Sansa’s face froze as she took him in the for the first time. His nights had been sleepless, because of the dreams that found him when his body finally gave up. His days had been filled with drink, and the only time he’d left his house in the past week was to go to his therapist’s, who'd scheduled him for a double appointment each day since last Thursday. He’d called in sick for work, and the only person who’d tried to contact him had been Tyrion. Jaime had let the calls ring out. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He hadn’t shaved all week, and he knew his face was a blotchy mess. Maybe it was a good thing that Brienne wasn’t here. He looked the worst he ever had in his life, and while he knew looks wouldn’t be important to Brienne, he also knew that he was currently a desperate cry for help; he didn’t think Brienne would be able to not help him, and he didn’t deserve that.

Brienne needed time, but so did Jaime. His therapist had made him see that. Two different pains were currently running through him; Brienne, the woman he wanted to be with, not wanting to be with him; and finally hearing first-hand the pain that he had spent years causing his soulmate. When he remembered that they overlapped, Jaime felt like he would snap under the pressure, under the guilt and shame. Drinking and talking had been the only way to get through the days.

‘I believe I still have an appointment today,’ Jaime said, his voice hoarse.

‘I...yes,’ Sansa said, shuffling some papers in front of her. ‘Dr Stark will be fixing the lines on your soulmark today, the appointment you missed last week. Since you missed a week, this does also mean that your treatment end date has shifted slightly.’ Yes, and because he hadn’t mentioned the burn on his arm, treatment had been extended another week. He knew that, Dr Stark had told him last time he’d been in her office.

‘Missed?’ Jaime asked. ‘Is that what we’re saying happened?’ It felt like such a feeble word. He hadn’t missed it, he’d run out the building. He hadn’t even bothered to call the offices afterwards, too worried that Brienne would think he was calling to speak to her. He didn’t want to pressure her in any way, shape or form, and he hated that he was craving an answer with every part of his being. He shouldn’t get to be with her, not after everything he’d caused. Ignorance could only be an excuse for so long. He had shaped her life in the worst way possible, and he shouldn’t be allowed to have an influence in the rest of it.

But he still couldn’t shut himself down completely. He still hurried for his phone when it went off, only to toss it away when he saw it was Tyrion. His heart still picked up whenever he got a new email, and even though he didn’t think she would give him an answer anyway other than face to face, he had a feeling of nervousness whenever he saw the letters that had been delivered each morning.

‘It’s what my mother told me,’ Sansa said. ‘That you missed last week’s appointment.’

‘And what did your new husband say?’ Jaime asked. ‘I don’t think I’ve congratulated you, by the way. Congratulations.’ He knew it fell flat, but it was so difficult to summon any kind of emotion right now. He would have to send them something he realised. A present. That’s what you did when people got married wasn’t it?

‘Thank you,’ Sansa said, and she blushed. ‘My new husband is very worried about his brother. He says he’s been trying to contact you but you’ve been ignoring him. You haven’t been going to work. Nobody has heard from you. We weren’t even sure if you were going to show up today.’

‘No,’ Jaime said, ‘I’m not good at confirming if I'll be attending the appointments or not.’ The memory of his second time here flashed though his mind, and for a second a hint of mirth almost made him smile.

‘I’m glad to see you here, Jaime,’ Sansa said. ‘I don’t quite know what’s happened.’

‘I assume Tyrion has some kind of theory?’ Jaime asked. His brother had sent almost a hundred texts to him this week, none of which Jaime had read. ‘Or, has someone else told you or your mother about what happened?’ He gestured to the chair that Sansa was seated in. ‘The reason for their absence today?’

‘What?’ Sansa gave a startled laugh. ‘Brienne? No, she rang in last night to say she wouldn’t be here today, and mum called me to ask me to come in. As I say, since Tyrion was so worried about you, I was happy to do it. He’ll be glad to know you’re alright.’

‘And is Brienne alright?’ Jaime asked. He couldn’t imagine that last week had been great for her either. Finally getting to tell her story had been difficult; and now she had one of the hardest choices to make. Jaime should make it easy for her. Jaime should take himself as an option away, and let Brienne move on with her life without her soulmate.

‘Mum said she actually sounded quite unwell,’ Sansa said. ‘But then she’s been worried about her all week. Brienne’s been coming into work, but I spoke to her once when I called the office to speak to mum. She sounded as if she had a bad cold. I hope it’s not this flu that’s going around, it sounds horrible.’ She gave a shudder. ‘Dr Stark is ready to see you now,’ she said, gesturing to the door.

Jaime took a deep breathe, then nodded a goodbye to Sansa, and made his way over to the door. This was going to be a difficult hour, he knew. Sansa was wrapped up in her new marriage and her new soulmate and her own life; she was worried about Brienne and worried about Tyrion and probably now worried about Jaime, but none of them were at the forefront of her mind.

He owed Dr Stark an explanation for last week, but he also wasn’t quite sure if it was his to share; if Brienne decided that she couldn’t be with him, then he’d pull himself from her life straight away. She deserved a clean slate, and not one where her boss could remind her of her soulmate.

But he’d already ruined their appointment last week; he couldn’t fuck up another working day. His actions had consequences and as much fun as wallowing in self-pity was, he had to pull himself through this. Getting his soulmark fixed and healed would hopefully go some way towards that.

As he settled into his usual chair, avoiding looking at Dr Stark, he thought about how painful today’s session might be, and then he was thinking of Brienne. Would she be home alone right now, waiting for her arm to tingle, to let her know Jaime was still getting their soulmark fixed? Was she still wearing the cuff every day, hiding it from the world, letting nobody see how badly it was damaged because it was easier for her not to think about?

He couldn’t bring himself to put his arm on the table. The seconds ticked down, Dr Stark sitting silent opposite him. He’d come here to get his arm fixed. He needed to finish it.

But the idea of watching Dr Stark poke more needles into his skin, of the images of Brienne wincing in pain, of the child she had been bleeding onto her sheets wouldn’t leave his mind. He knew Brienne was grown up now, that she had found a way to deal with all that he’d put her through; but it was hard to take the step that would cause her more pain, even if this time it would only be for an hour.

‘Did she tell you?’ Jaime asked eventually. He still couldn’t look at Dr Stark, but he could feel her cool gaze on his face, taking in his scruffy appearance. He knew the alcohol he’d drunk this week was still oozing from his pores and probably reaching the doctor on the other side of the table.

‘No,’ Dr Stark said. ‘Brienne hasn’t told me anything. But I can gather what happened.’ Jaime felt cool hands on his hand, and let his arm be dragged across the table, settling on the crinkly paper Dr Stark had laid out for today’s session. He fought with everything in him not to drag it back to his side.

‘Can you?’ Jaime asked.

‘You and Brienne are soulmates,’ Dr Stark said, like it wasn’t that big of a deal. ‘I had my suspicions of course, but I’ve never known for sure.’

‘Why didn’t you say something?’ Jaime asked. It would have been so much easier if she had said something. Jaime wouldn’t have thought that Brienne had a soulmark on her foot thanks to Renly’s confusion. Or at least he would have put more thought into him and Brienne having matching marks. Why hadn’t it ever occurred to him again? It had, the first time she’d taken him to Tarth’s. When he thought Brienne was covering hers up. But then she’d shown him her blank skin, and he hadn’t known about skingrafts and even when he’d learned about them it had never occurred to him that that’s what Brienne had. He’d been so consumed by Brienne not being his soulmate that he hadn’t for a second stopped to think that she could be. ‘When did your suspicions start?’

He looked at her then, taking his gaze from his arm so that she could start her work. He forced the image of Brienne at that current moment to the back of his mind, and concentrated on nothing but Dr Stark’s words.

‘When you came to your session admitting that you hadn’t used the creams, but someone clearly had. Most of the creams you can buy in supermarkets and they do a good enough job; but for them to have such an impact, they needed to be one of the specialized creams, recommended by healthcare professional. So, whoever your soulmate was, they had some knowledge of damages and of the treatments used. The creams don’t just appear on the first page of Google.’ Something sharp tugged at Jaime’s arm, but he tensed his muscles and bit his lip, making sure his arm would stay on the table. The worst thing he could do was yank it back across the table, creating a new damage. ‘Brienne had admitted her soulmark was damaged once, years ago. I told you that. And I saw the way you two looked at each other. I’ve only ever looked at two people that way – my soulmates. When you admitted that no new soulmark had appeared on you, I had to wonder what was going on. There was really only one logical explanation; that soulmarks were already on the both of you. With her reaction during the Shaving, and then afterwards it just seemed to confirm my theories, but I couldn’t ask either of you, just in case I was wrong.’

‘Did you hope you were?’ Jaime asked. ‘You didn’t want us to be together.’

Dr Stark sighed, her head bent so Jaime could see the parting of her hair. She was greying at the roots, he noticed. ‘I was scared that Brienne was going to fall in love with you, and then you’d meet your soulmate and the universe would do what the universe does best and you’d leave Brienne heartbroken. I didn’t think she could take another bad love story.’

‘Well,’ Jaime said, ‘this isn’t exactly a good one.’

‘I don’t know what’s happened,’ Dr Stark said, ‘and it’s not my place to ask. But I hope you work everything out. I’ve seen these marks lead to great things, but I’ve also seen them lead to horror. I wish nothing but happiness for you and Brienne.’ She paused for a second. ‘Even if that isn’t with each other.’

Jaime’s thought went down a path he’d been avoiding then, because getting lost in his daydreams was the only way he’d make it through the rest of the session. Brienne saying no. Oh, she’d be nice about it, he knew. But she’d tell him it was too much for her, that he’d caused too much damage. And then...what? He’d have to go back out into the world. Brienne would be lost to him. His soulmate would be lost to him. Would it be a life of trying to pick up women he didn’t really want to be with to try and take away the sting from losing the woman he loved, as he attempted to chase down brief moments of happiness? Was he destined to spent the rest of his life alone, trying not to think of the person he should be with? Or, worst of all, he thought, would he one day meet someone who would leave an unperfect soulmark on him? He didn’t think he could handle it if that happened, if another person left a mark on him.

‘All done,’ Dr Stark said, and Jaime watched as she bandaged his arm back up. He hadn’t even looked at his soulmark this week, and he had no intention of looking this week either. He just couldn’t.

Although maybe he could take a shower. And eat something that wasn’t leftovers from his fridge or from a random tin he’d had in his cupboard for over a year. And he needed to call Tyrion and tell him he was okay. His brother deserved to know what was going on. Although he’d be a little surprised if Tyrion wasn’t outside waiting for him when he left today. Sansa had probably been on the phone to her husband as soon as Jaime entered Dr Stark's office today. ‘I need to talk to you about next week’s appointment,’ Dr Stark said. ‘Something has come up, and I need to reschedule. Now, the next time I see you, we’ll work on the burn mark that you failed to mention at the start of your treatment. Would you like to move to earlier in the week or just the week afterwards?’ She leafed through an appointment book in front of her, flipping the pages one way and then the other. Was this because something had actually come up or because she was trying to set him and Brienne up? She wasn’t inputting the new date into the computer; was she just hoping for Jaime to stroll into the building, on a random day next week, taking Brienne unaware, and therefore forcing them to talk?

No. Dr Stark wouldn’t do that. Not to Brienne, anyway, a friend who she cared for.

‘The week after will work,’ Jaime said. After taking this entire week off he wouldn’t really be able to get away with trying to take an extra day off next week too. He supposed to could make good use of his free day; he still had to do his shifts in Lannister’s after all. And manning the shop was easy. The day-to-day staff resented him being there, so he tended to hide out behind one of the counters and not talk to any customers.

‘Then I’ll see you in two weeks' time, Mr Lannister,’ Dr Stark said. Jaime, his arm tingling, shoved his hand into his pocket and said his goodbyes.

Chapter Text

Jaime slouched over the glass cabinet beneath him, wondering if he could put his head in his hands and block out his current surroundings. He decided that he probably could; but he shouldn’t. He always got the feeling that the regular staff at Lannisters disliked him whenever he came in to do the day of work in the shop that his father insisted on, and he didn’t want to do anything that would prove their whispers right.

He knew he spent too much time in the back office when he came here, pretending that he had important work he couldn’t just drop because of his father’s wishes. But they didn’t like him on the shop floor either; they felt like they couldn’t be themselves with the boss watching them, worried that if they did something wrong Jaime would report them and then they’d lose their jobs.

He mainly found that funny; he doubted he’d even realise they were doing anything wrong.

There was only two hours to go until closing time, and the shop was dead. Jaime had sold four items today, and three of them had been identical diamond bracelets to one guy. But that had been hours ago. The air in Lannister's was always stuffy, and the black and dark green interior didn’t help. It felt somewhat underwater, like a dark cave that would be easy to get trapped in. The glass cases were lined with gold trim to match the gold front door and the gold lion logo. The shop had been through a redesign just ten years ago, even though Tywin had silently fumed throughout the whole process. He hadn’t wanted to change the shop at all, keeping it to how it was when it had first opened; but times had changed, and if there was one thing Tywin Lannister had going for him it was his business sense. In a nod to the old colours, Tyrion had commissioned cheap plastic red and gold pens, with a hanging lion charm that sold for £15.50 to the tourists who flocked to the shop to purchase, because no trip to London was complete without paying a visit to the iconic store and because most of the tourists weren’t about to spend £125 on a child’s silver bracelet, the next cheapest thing the store sold. The pens sold in their thousands each week, even though Tyrion had had to fight Tywin to get them made.

Jaime looked at his watch again. If this was a normal Thursday, he would have visited with Dr Stark earlier. His arm would be burning or prickling or raw, instead of feeling the most normal it had since starting treatment. He still hadn’t taken off the bandages from his last visit, even though he knew he should. The arm still needed washing and cream applying to make sure he didn’t get an infection even if the worst of the treatment was now over.

H wondered if he would have seen Brienne today. Probably not. It would be Sansa again, giving Jaime a fake smile as she kept her questions to herself, and tried not to probe. He’d finally seen Tyrion, had even spent an evening around the newlyweds, trying not to roll his eyes and make fake gagging noises every time they smiled at each other, or kissed, or just touched because they couldn’t bear not to be near one another. He was delighted for his brother, he really was, but he was having a hard time showing it. He hadn’t told Tyrion what had happened with Brienne; he couldn’t. Not until he knew what his future would look like. He wanted to have all the facts and answers when he finally spoke about meeting his soulmate, because Tyrion was sure to have questions. And, if it went the way Jaime feared it would, he didn’t want to have to relive the painful experience of all of Brienne’s rejections more times than he had to.

He’d had two therapist appointment this week, and he was back to getting up every day and dressing. He’d cut down on his alcohol consumption as well. He didn’t need another problem to add to his ever-growing list, and he’d seen both Cersei and Tyrion reach for the bottle whenever things weren’t going their way; he didn’t know if there was a history of addiction in his family, but he also wasn’t about to tempt anything either.

Plus it felt good to be in control of even some tiny aspect of his life, even if it was just choosing a bottle of water over the whisky.

‘Good afternoon,’ said a voice above him, and Jaime suppressed his groan. He’d been hoping to get away with not dealing with any more customers today. He really wasn’t in the mood to be upbeat and pleasant, and hear all about their life story and why they were buying what they were buying.

‘How can I help?’ Jaime asked, stranding up. He pretended to shuffle some papers on the counter in front of him, delaying the moment he’d have to look up and paste a smile on his face. It was an exhausting action he wasn’t sure he could pull off right now. ‘If you’re looking for someone to talk you though these figurines, let me find one of my employees for you. They know much more than I do.’ He gestured to the china figures in the cabinet below him. He could probably bullshit his way through a sale, but he also wasn’t going to pass up the chance to offload this customer onto someone else.

‘Actually, I don’t think one of your employees will be able to help me,’ said the customer, and Jaime’s body froze. ‘Since it’s you I need to talk to.’ Even though he knew it could be no one else, he was still shocked when he looked up to see Brienne Tarth standing on the other side of the cabinet. Her hands were clasped around the strap on her bag, and she was in jeans, a t-shirt and a jacket. Her hair was a little messy, but her gaze was steady and unwavering, just like always.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, his tone low. He hadn’t missed a text from her, or a phone call. There had been no communication at all.

‘I needed to speak with you,’ Brienne said. ‘I’m sorry it’s taken so long, but I believe I owe you an answer. I know I shouldn’t have just turned up like this, but...well. I was hoping we could talk. Can I take you for a drink when you finish today?’

‘Shouldn’t you be at work?’ Jaime asked. How was she here? She was supposed to be at Dr Stark’s offices, sitting behind a desk, glad that Jaime wasn’t coming in today so she didn’t have to let Dr Stark down again.

‘Dr Stark decided to schedule all of her private client's appointments today. She told me to take the day off.’ Brienne tugged at the strap on her bag. There were bags under her eyes, Jaime noticed. And her lips were chapped and cracked, her cheeks hollower than they’d been two weeks ago. ‘I thought it might be a good idea to come and see you.’

‘How did you know where to find me?’ Jaime asked. Lannisters head offices weren’t near the store, and he very much doubted Brienne had just decided to call into the shop on a whim.

‘I called Sansa,’ Brienne said. ‘When I decided that today would be a good day to talk to you, I rang her, and she asked her husband what your plans were for today.’

‘Right,’ Jaime said. Of course, Tyrion would know. ‘I know a place we can talk,’ he said, turning his back on her and walking through the store. The carpet was so deep that he couldn’t hear her footsteps behind him, but he knew she was following as he led them deeper into the store. Before they reached the back offices, he took a sharp right, leading them between two long gold and glass cabinets. ‘No one will disturb us here,’ he said, finally facing towards her. ‘It’s the home accessories section,’ he explained to her slight frown. ‘Tyrion thought it would be a great idea, but most of the stock we’ve had for years.’ He gestured towards the items below him. ‘But what do you get a man who has everything? A diamond and ruby encrusted phone book of course, for £8,000. Or,’ he said, pointing to the shelves behind him, ‘how about a matching set of 6 wine glasses, with golden Lannister lions for the stem and a diamond base? Only £6,000 each.’ He didn’t know how the wine glasses had ended up in the shop, but he hoped they remained for a while; him and Tyrion had promised to go halves on the set and present them to their father if he ever retired. Tywin Lannister was probably the only person in the world who would want them. ‘Or a sapphire letter opener,’ Jaime said, pointing to the cabinet to his right. ‘We do quite a lot of letter openers.’ He stared at the tools that looked like swords, the blue stone reminding him of Brienne’s eyes.

‘I was planning to do this somewhere like a pub,’ Brienne said.

‘I don’t think I can wait,’ Jaime admitted. ‘Now that you’re here, I can’t wait any longer. Please. Just tell me.’ He was already thrumming with a nervous energy, although he was doing it well to keep it inside. Having to wait an hour until he actually finished his day, and then meet her at a pub, plus getting drinks and finding somewhere to sit...it was unbearable to think about let alone actually go through.

‘Alright,’ Brienne said, and Jaime let out a sigh of relief. He’d thought she might insist upon a public meeting place, a neutral ground to talk on.

Not that he thought there would be much talking. She would tell him what she’d decided, and he would accept it because he couldn’t do anything else.

The silence stretched between them.

‘You can tell me anything,’ Jaime said, quietly. ‘Matching soulmarks or not. Before everything came out, we were friends, and I’d like to think you know that you can tell me anything, without fearing judgment or harsh words or a fight.’

‘I do know that,’ Brienne said, but she still seemed to be gathering her thoughts.

‘And, so, bearing in mind what I’ve just said,’ he realised, gathering all his strength, because this did have to be said out loud, ‘I need to tell you something.’ Brienne nodded her head, letting him go first. ‘I was in a relationship with my twin sister for 18 years,’ he said, keeping his volume low. He didn’t think any of the other employees would come this far down the shop, but that part of his life still wasn’t one he would ever shout from the rooftops.

‘I know,’ Brienne said, and then she was blushing. ‘I assumed,’ she added. ‘There were some signs you gave off.’ She gave him a questioning look. ‘You didn’t have to tell me.’

‘I know,’ Jaime said. ‘But hiding away from the truth isn’t going to get me anywhere, and I think you deserved to know. That’s not the full story, of course, just the bare bones; and I know you figured it out a while ago, but I just thought you deserved to have me confirm it.’

‘Thank you,’ Brienne said. ‘It means a lot.’

He’d thought it would be hard to tell his soulmate about Cersei, but it hadn’t been. If Brienne decided there was a future for them, he’d have to tell her more, he knew; but that one sentence was enough for now.

‘I need to tell you about what I’ve decided,’ Brienne said. ‘And I need you to promise not to interrupt me, no matter what you might hear or what it might sound like, until I reach the end.’

‘Alright,’ Jaime said, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. It was hard not to walk over to her and take her in his arms, and kiss her until his name was the only thing she could think of, but this wasn’t the time or the place. He’d also rather that she just ripped the plaster off as it were, and either told him yes or no, but he needed to let her have her say. It was the least he could do for her after all.

‘First off I’m sorry for my silence,’ Brienne said. ‘I told you I’d give you an answer and I know I didn’t tell you when that answer would be forthcoming but two weeks is a long time.’

‘That’s alright,’ Jaime said, but then pressed his lips tightly together when she looked at him.

‘The truth is,’ she said, and Jaime pressed his arms closer to his body because he felt like if he didn’t have something holding him in place he’d collapse to the floor. ‘When I left you that Thursday, I could only see one road to go down. I’d been coming to the conclusion in the weeks before when you didn’t know what we were, but talking about my life made me realise just how hard it would be; how much I’d have to overcome. And the truth is, I didn’t think I was strong enough. But I promised you I’d think about it, so I took the weekend, and thought of nothing else. I made pro and con lists. I talked to my therapist about it, and on Monday morning I thought I’d finally come to my decision.

I didn’t think I’d ever be able to overcome the pain, Jaime. It hurt to realise that I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was, but I couldn’t see a life where I was with you where I didn’t resent you or end up hating you.’

The words crashed over Jaime, again and again, like buckets of ice-cold water pouring over his head. He’d ruined not just Brienne’s life but any chance of them ever being together.

He knew it would end up like this. Ever since she’d walked away from him two weeks ago, he’d known this would be her answer; and yet the pain coursing through him was something he didn’t think he ever could have predicted. Was this how she had felt? Every part of her screaming for relief, for something to block out the hurt, for anything to take away the world she’d been forced to live in?

‘Last Monday morning, I went into work,’ Brienne continued, and Jaime forced his mind to focus on her words now and not the no she’d given him before. It was important for her to get her reasons out, although in truth Jaime didn’t need them; he understood all too well why she’d made this choice. It was what was best for her. He wasn’t going to beg and plead for her to give him a chance, even though every particle in his body was screaming for him to try and get her to change her mind. ‘And I was going to call you before the end of the day to ask you to meet somewhere after work and tell you. But I thought it wouldn’t be kind to call you in the morning and leave you to wonder what my answer would be all day, so I left it till the afternoon. And then it was 5’o clock and I couldn’t call you then and ask you to meet up to because that was far too little notice, and that wasn’t fair to you. So, I told myself I’d do it on Tuesday...and then Wednesday. When Wednesday evening rolled around, and I knew I’d have to see you the next day I became so sick with nerves that I did throw up, and had to call in sick.’

The idea of seeing him had literally made her sick. Great. Jaime wished Brienne would have stopped five minutes ago, but he also couldn’t help bask in the fact that she was still here. He wouldn’t get to see her after today, he was sure of that. The longer she spent with him, here, the longer he had to commit her to memory. The way her hair was several shades of blonde, the way her freckles were scattered across her face, the way she held herself, still clinging onto her bag strap like it was a lifesaver and if she let go she’d be lost.

‘When I went back to work on Friday, I knew this couldn’t go on,’ Brienne said. ‘And I knew that Catelyn had seen you the day before. I talked to her. I told her everything that had happened between us and how I’d decided that we couldn’t be together. I told her about the soulmarks and...I hope you don’t mind but I told her what happened. The damages.’

Jaime nodded. It was sweet of her to tell him, and to feel bad that she’d told Catelyn about what he’d done, but considering he’d spent quite a lot of time talking about Brienne to her family and friends he wasn’t about to judge her for needing to speak to someone. Their histories were interwoven together in the worst way, and it was hard to speak of one without the other. 'Not about the reason why you'd caused them, of course,' Brienne added quickly. 'Just that your previous long-term relationship had been the main reason why the damages were caused.' Jaime nodded his acceptance, but really it was more than he deserved; Brienne should hate him enough to want everyone else to hate him as well. And telling them about the relationship with Cersei was sure to darken anyone's view of him.

But of course. Brienne was far too good to do that.

‘She told me that it was a big thing that was happening and not to feel so guilty over the sick days. And that she understood how hard this was for me, and she just hoped I’d be happy at the end of it.’

It was like a knife in his gut the idea that Brienne would be happy without Jaime; that she’d be happy because she’d chosen for Jaime not to be in her life.

‘So I went home, and I thought about us again,’ Brienne said. ‘And I realised that...that the reason I hadn’t contacted you wasn’t because I was worried I was doing it at the wrong time. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you to spend a whole day panicking about what I was going to say, and it wasn’t because I was tired and had had a long day and or because of any of the other reasons I kept giving myself for not getting in touch. The reason I was putting off telling you what I’d decided...was because I didn’t want to tell you what I’d decided.’

Jaime blinked at her, but she remained silent, and he figured he was now allowed to speak.

‘I can’t imagine anyone would relish the idea of telling their soulmate they don’t want to be with them,’ he said slowly.

‘It wasn’t that,’ Brienne said. She took a step closer to the cabinet that was in front of her, and although everything in Jaime was still screaming at him to take a step closer as well, he jammed his body up against the wall. If he relaxed, even for a second, all his carefully held together reserve would break. ‘Jaime, I’m not one to put off unpleasant tasks. I might hate every moment of it, but I will do it because it has to be done. But I couldn’t do this, and when I told my therapist, they asked me why, and I told them it was because I couldn’t tell you that I didn’t want to be with you. That I'd be lying if I told you that.’

‘You don’t need to sugarcoat it, Brienne,’ he said, trying for a smile and failing. ‘I’m a big boy. I don’t...I’m not enjoying this experience either, but you have to do what is best for you. I understand it. You might...you might have feelings for me now, but in the long term, it would be too much.’ The smile stuck to his face a little better this time, but it slid off after just a second.

‘Jaime, I was wrong,’ Brienne snapped. A flood of colour spread over her cheeks. ‘I tried to tell myself that it would be too hard to be with you. I thought I wouldn’t be able to get past it, but when push came to shove, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you any of that, because I didn’t want to. I thought about what it would be like to tell you, and that was fine, but then I couldn’t even imagine my life afterwards. All I could think about was how hollow and empty it would be.’ Her cheeks were now a riot of red, her knuckles white on her bag strap. ‘I thought about everything I’d been though; everything that my soulmate had put me though; and then I thought about you and I realised you are not my soulmate.’

Jaime opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Her life would be empty and hollow without him? But he wasn’t her soulmate? He pinched himself to make sure he was still awake because only a dream (or nightmare) felt like it could make this little sense.

‘But I am your soulmate,’ he said eventually.

She shook her head, and took another step towards him. The only thing separating them now was the cabinet below them filled with glittering letter openers, bejewelled photo frames and ruby encrusted cutlery sets.

‘My soulmate hurt himself to prove he loved someone,’ she said, her voice a fierce whisper. ‘My soulmate was so wrapped up in a relationship that he didn’t even think about himself, let alone anyone else. Tyrion called me the other day to ask if I could possibly know why you'd been in such a bad mood the past few weeks, and he told me how this whole mess started,’ she said, changing tack so quickly Jaime felt his head spin. ‘How you damaged yourself to prove your love. You are not that person anymore.’ She pointed to the letter opener below them. ‘If I asked you to pick that up right now and slice it down your arm, would you?’

‘You’d never ask me that,’ Jaime said. A crack had appeared in the darkness that had been his thoughts, but he couldn’t let it open fully; because it sounded like; well, it sounded like Brienne might not be rejecting him after all. But he couldn’t let himself hope, not yet. He’d done this too many times before.

‘Of course I wouldn’t,’ Brienne said, her voice gentle now. ‘But I also know that you wouldn’t. That it wouldn’t even occur to you, because you are not the same person you were three years ago. You are not the soulmate who carved damages into his skin, or who let someone else do it.’

‘Brienne,’ Jaime said, slowly because while she was saying all the right words, he couldn’t let her talk herself into something that would fester, ‘I might not be stupid enough to hurt myself these days, but I am still the same person.’

The look she gave him almost brought a smile to his face.

‘I’m not suggesting that you’ve split into two different versions of yourself,’ she said flatly. ‘I’m not even saying that in my mind there’s my soulmate and then there’s you. I know that both exist in you. But I’m saying that this version standing in front of me now, is the person who I’m choosing to be with. I’m saying that I know this will probably be hard and difficult and there will probably be days where it’s hard to look at you, but I want to get to those days and be able to talk to you about them, and to work through them. I’m saying, that for all the pain mine has given me, I am choosing to believe in the magic of soulmarks.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Jaime asked. He’d stepped closer to the cabinet now, his hands on the top of the glass case. He thought probably Lannister’s could burn to the ground around him and he’d stay in the same place, waiting for Brienne to say what she’d come to say.

‘Have you even looked at it lately?’ Brienne asked. She stretched her arm out, till it brushed by Jaime, pulling up her sleeve at the same time. ‘I told you that soulmarks are magic.’ Jaime dragged his gaze away from her face to focus on her arm. The soulmark looked the way it had from his session with Renly – the lines unbroken, the lion head staring proudly at them. Dr Stark had done a fantastic job, Jaime had to say. He hadn’t really seen it looking so perfect since the first moment it had bloomed onto his skin at nine years old.

And it was that perfect image, he saw. Not the one from Renly’s drawing, that had been missing a crucial element.

No, on Brienne’s arm, right at the top was the sun and moon, shining brightly like it had been newly painted onto Brienne’s skin.

In one second Jaime had torn the bandage from his arm, to stare at this last piece of his soulmark.

‘It started to come back last week,’ Brienne said. ‘I’d stopped wondering why it hadn’t come back through the burn, but I think it was because I wasn’t ready; we weren’t ready. Not until recently.’

‘Are you saying...?’

‘I’m saying, that I want to be with you Jaime,’ Brienne said quietly. ‘I know this is going to be hard, and that I can’t just push our history to the back of my mind; but I also know that you are the only person I want to talk to about it. I don’t want to not give us a chance.’

‘Are you sure?’ Jaime asked, but he was already walking around the cabinet, heading straight for Brienne.

‘I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,’ she said, and she was smiling and Jaime thought he might be smiling too. It would be hard, that was true; there would be days where the pain was too much, or the memories overwhelmed them.

But Brienne was willing to give them a chance. Brienne was willing to trust in the marks that had banded their souls together.

Brienne was here, and in his arms, and really Jaime wasn’t so much of a fool that he was going to question it too closely.

He pulled her to him, holding her steady in his embrace, searching her face for even a flicker of doubt, but finding none. Her gaze was as steady as it had ever been as she stared back at him; she was finally going to go after what she wanted. Jaime still couldn’t believe that it could be him, but her hand pressing into his back told him that it was, and her eyes fluttering closed as their faces closed the distance between them was all the invitation he needed.

‘Jaime, I can’t believe you’re here! Did you know my ring was going to be ready today and...oh.’ In the half second before his lips met Brienne’s, Margaery Tyrell’s voice split the air, shattering the moment that had been building. Brienne turned her face away, towards the woman standing at the end of the section. ‘I’m sorry,’ Margaery said, her eyes flicking between Jaime and Brienne. ‘Am I interrupting?’

‘Yes,’ Jaime growled. Brienne took a step away, but he wasn’t about to let her go that far, so he kept his arm around her.

‘Me and Jaime were just talking,’ Brienne said, and Jaime forgot all about Margaery as he caught sight of Brienne’s face; she was grinning so wide it split her face, and her eyes looked shiny with tears.

‘About what?’ Margaery asked. ‘You can’t not tell me,’ she said when no one responded. ‘Not after what I suspect I’ve just walked in on.’ She hugged her arms to herself, a smile growing on her face. ‘Are you two together? I can’t believe this! I only came to pick up my ring – it's finally been sized – and instead I find this! Wait until I tell Pod, he’ll be so delighted!’

‘Margaery,’ Brienne said, but her words were cut off.

‘How long has this been going on?’ Margaery asked, stalking towards them. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘It’s a new development,’ Brienne said. ‘Very new. Seconds old, really.’

‘Don’t tell me I walked in on your first kiss!’ Margaery said, and her hands flew to cover her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry! Do you want me to come back in a few minutes?’

‘Oh, no, I think the moment has firmly passed,’ Brienne said. She detangled herself from Jaime’s arms, and he let her. She was blushing and Jaime had spent enough time with her to know that Brienne wasn’t a touchy-feely person; oh, she might let him hold her hand in public or press a kiss to her cheek now and again, but she wasn’t going to engage in overly affectionate public displays.

Although Jaime would do his best to have as many affectionate displays as he could behind closed doors.

‘I’m so happy for you,’ Margaery said, gazing at Brienne. ‘After everything you’ve suffered.’

‘Right,’ Brienne said, although both her and Jaime had tensed. ‘The thing is...’

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to leave?’ Margaery said. ‘I mean, how will you even know if you’re compatible if you don’t kiss?’

‘There are plenty of other ways in this world,’ Brienne muttered. ‘I think we have a pretty good idea.’

Margaery stared at them both, her mouth open a little, and Jaime wasn’t sure if it was the magic of the soulmarks, or that him and Brienne really just that well suited, but at the same time they both held out their arms, showing their matching soulmarks to someone else for the very first time.

‘Oh!’ Margaery squealed. And then ‘oh!’ again, her gaze flying to Brienne’s face. And then another ‘oh, who cares?’ as she flung herself around the both of them, squeezing them. ‘I’m so happy for you! Both of you.’

‘We’re very happy too,’ Brienne said.

‘You have got to let me do something,’ Margaery said. ‘I’ve just had a flower wall installed in my back garden – you must come and have a photo taken in front, so you can announce this to the world. I know the media don’t really care about you,’ she said to Jaime, ‘but if it’s a slow news day you might get written about. And a few business pages might pick it up.’

‘We’re only dating,’ Brienne said, ‘do you think anyone will care?’

‘Right,’ Margaery said, laughing. ‘I forgot not everyone gets engaged as soon as they meet their soulmate. But you do still have to come and have your photo taken. Everyone will want to know you’ve finally met your soulmate. It’s what everyone’s always looking for isn’t it?’

‘You think they’ll be happy?’ Brienne asked, and Jaime could tell that she wasn’t just musing on the idea; it was something that haunted her a little.

Jaime was lucky, he supposed. The only ones who would care about him finding his soulmate would be his father – and care was a strong word, about Tywin’s feelings -, and Tyrion, who Jamie knew would just be fucking delighted, (that was if he didn't already know. Brienne had mentioned a phone call with his brother, and Jaime suspected there was a little more to it than Tyrion just enquiring after Jaime's mood.)

Brienne would have to tell her father and her friends, most who knew what she’d been through. There would be a lot of hurdles to overcome to win them to his side, Jaime would bet.

But he’d do it.

‘I think, as long as you are happy, they will be happy,’ Margaery said. ‘And even if they’re not, it is your life, and your choices, and I happen to think you have made an excellent one here. Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ she said. ‘I must go and get my ring. I don’t think I can wait a moment longer.’ She hugged both of them goodbye, then skipped off to the other part of the store. Jaime had no doubt he’d have to see her again before she left.

‘We’re going to have to go and have our photo taken in front of a flower wall, aren’t we?’ Brienne said.

‘With the soulmarks out and posted on social media for the twenty or so people who will care,’ Jaime said, nodding his head. ‘Although she might be right about a few places being interested if we ever got engaged.’ He looked at Brienne, a thought stirring.

‘No,’ she said, not even looking at him. ‘Not yet. I’m not saying not ever, but don’t even think about it.’

‘I wasn’t,’ he said, but his lips quirked up at the side. The thought settled itself back into the deepest corners of his brain, but he knew it would be there waiting; even if it took one year, or more.

‘We should go and help with her ring,’ Brienne said, and she took a step forward to follow Margaery. ‘She’ll only come back if we don’t.’

‘I agree,’ Jaime said, but he clasped Brienne’s arm and pulled her back until their faces were once again just a whisper of wind away from each other. ‘But I have other, very pressing matters to attend to first.’ And before Brienne could protest or smile or do anything that might distract him once again, he pressed his lips to hers, very firmly believing in the magic of soulmarks.

Chapter Text

Jaime tapped the dashboard of his car, and tried to tell himself that it was fine. There was nothing to be nervous about. He wished he had Brienne in the seat next to him, but her morning had already been booked, and he couldn’t ask her to come to this. That would defeat the point.

Slowly, he inched himself out of the car, milking the action for all it was worth. Tarth’s loomed up in front of him, but instead of filling him with a sense of calmness and comfort, his stomach was churning. Not because of the building itself, but because of what - or rather who - he knew was inside.

He hadn’t told Brienne about his plans to come and speak to Selwyn today. He hadn’t even really thought about his plans himself, just had a general idea that this was something he’d have to do. And he couldn’t ask Brienne to come with him; if she were there, Selwyn would restrict himself in his daughter’s presence, and Jaime didn’t need or want that. Brienne had been her usual calm self about the whole business, insisting that if any of her old panic and feelings did rise up that she would talk to Jaime about it and they would sort it out with conversation and time. And while Jaime was beyond grateful that this amazing woman, who he had unintentionally caused so much damage to was willing to forgive him and be with him, he still felt like he needed to be punished for what he had done. Or, if not punished, because he wasn’t quite that deep into self-hatred, (or at least he was working on it,) he still needed someone to call him out on what he’d done. He needed someone to call him names, and ask him how he could even think of being with Brienne after what he’d done; he needed someone who felt as guilty as he did every time they looked at Brienne, at the way their actions had caused her to live her life, but who loved her just as much as Jaime himself did.

(He hadn’t told Brienne that he loved her yet; they’d only been together 2 and a half days, and he knew that she wasn’t quite ready to hear it. He also knew that she loved him, but she wasn’t quite ready to say it. They'd done nothing more than kiss and hold each other, and talk, but the rest was coming, and Jaime couldn’t wait. He was enjoying the conversations and finding out more about Brienne’s life; while it might have felt like he knew her inside and out, it was delightful to hear her stories that didn’t revolve around her soulmark; about her sailing friends and the books she liked to read, and who her favourite artists were. He liked hearing about her fathers’ previous girlfriends and how they’d helped to shape her, and about her work for Dr Stark and how she loved the organizing, and the planning and having a structure to her days.)

Brienne had been summoned to the Stark household this morning to talk to Arya Stark about her everchanging soulmark. Brienne had been almost brimming with excitement when she’d come to Jaime’s on Friday night. Arya had gone to her mother to ask about the soulmark that kept changing slightly on her body, and what it could mean, and Catelyn had of course gone straight to the person who she thought most likely to know. Everchanging soulmarks were the rarest of the rare, Brienne had told Jaime, only around 78 cases being reported over the years. It meant that for whatever reason, the person wasn’t fully accepting of their soulmark but had met a person whose soul was like their own. Arya would probably spend years refusing to let her soulmate into her orbit, and she probably had good reasons for why. Her soulmate would bury deeper and deeper into her life, and eventually a complete soulmark might appear on them both, when they were finally ready to be together.

It would be interesting to see what happened there, Jaime thought as he crossed the road. But it made him smile that there were still soulmarks he didn’t know about. He couldn’t wait for this whole universe to unfold itself to him, although he had to admit that most of his excitement stemmed from the person who would be doing the teaching.

He stopped at the front door to Tarth’s, gave himself one second, and then shouldered his way inside. The only way he was going to get this over with was to actually do it.

The place was quiet, as Jaime had known it would be. Asha was once again behind the counter and she gave Jaime a nod as he entered, but seemed intent on her conversation with the customer ahead of Jaime in the queue. There were two other customers sitting at tables, but Jaime didn’t pay them much attention. It was obvious Selwyn wasn’t here, at least not in the main part of the café.

Jaime ordered himself a mer-mazing mocha (this time without the edible glitter), and settled himself at a table. It seemed unlikely that the one day Jaime had come here to speak with Selwyn, the owner of the business would have taken a day off...but then, weirder things had happened.

Jaime had almost finished his coffee and was just debating getting up and leaving when a shadow fell across his table. Jaime kept his mouth shut as Selwyn Tarth took a seat across from him, his arms folded over his large chest, a glare on his face that Jaime imagined a smarter man would run from.

Brienne had spent three hours on Thursday night with her father explaining to him the situation with Jaime. She’d come back to Jaime’s at 10pm, tired and emotional, but she hadn’t said much about the encounter and Jaime hadn’t wanted to ask.

‘So, it’s you is it?’ Selwyn said after five minutes of silence. ‘You’re her soulmate?’

‘Yes,’ Jaime said. ‘And I understand that you have many questions, and opinions and probably a very strong desire to punch me.’

‘But?’ Selwyn asked. ‘Aren’t you going to try and defend yourself?’

‘No,’ Jaime said, shaking his head and pushing himself further back into his seat. He didn’t think it would really do much if Selwyn did decide to go for him, but he didn’t think he would; at least not while they were in Tarth’s. Maybe outside in the street, but not in his own business. Jaime knew there would be a lot of paper work involved. ‘I don’t really have anything to defend myself with, except ignorance.’

‘Yes, Brienne mentioned that you weren’t aware of the connection,’ Selwyn said. He gave a great sigh, and his arms fell down to his sides. ‘She said a lot of stuff, and talked until I was confused and she appeared to be making sense.’

‘She usually does,’ Jaime said. He tried to image what would happen if he went back to Brienne with a black eye because of her father, but he rather thought that she’d just ask him what he’d been expecting and then help him tend to it. She wouldn’t offer him pity or sympathy for a situation he’d got himself into; and it was one of the many, many reasons Jaime loved her.

‘That’s half the trouble,’ Selwyn said, frowning. ‘Brienne seems like such a sensible person and she’s so independent that she tells me these things and I just let her get on with her life because I have to believe that she knows what's best for her. And then a few years later I find myself stopping and thinking – what? She had no idea what she was talking about and I should have been firmer.’

‘She told me how she handled the soulmark situation when she was younger,’ Jaime said quietly. He felt like he was wadding through landmines, and he didn’t really want to set one off. He hadn’t been there, and god knows he wasn’t in a position to judge Selwyn for how he’d let Brienne handle her soulmark when she was a teenager. Even if she had been forced into a skin graft, Jaime wouldn’t have felt any better than he did now.

‘Handled is a strong word,’ Selwyn said gruffly. ‘I hated myself for the longest time. For forgetting about her. But her mother used to take care of all that stuff, and when she died, I could barely think about anything else. Brienne seemed fine. A little quiet, but she’d never been the loudest, and I had this place to look after and...well. I don’t need to tell you how awful I feel for letting everything else eclipse my own daughter’s health.’

Jaime shook his head. The guilt, the pain...he was well introduced to those emotions. ‘I went to see someone when she went off to university,’ Selwyn confessed. ‘I’d been sitting on all those feelings for years, and the doctor finally told me to go and get myself sorted. I felt like the worst parent in the world while I confessed everything to him. Who would forget that their own child needed protecting?’

‘You can’t protect a child from everything,’ Jaime said, thinking back to his childhood. ‘No matter how much you want to.’ His childhood had been privileged, he knew; even with the death of his mother and the withheld affection from his father (although could it be considered withheld if the person just didn’t have the capability for love and care?), Jaime knew he’d been lucky. He’d been rich and had had people to take care of his every need. Babysitters who would take him, Cersei and Tyrion out to all the latest films and theme parks just to get them out of the house. And he’d had his siblings to help him. Whatever him and Cersei had grown into, they’d been each other’s best friend when they were younger, and he knew he could always talk to her and she’d be there for him, even if that had faded out as they became adults.

‘Or an adult it would seem,’ Selwyn said, the glare aimed on Jaime’s face suddenly growing more intense. ‘I still can’t seem to protect her from you.’

‘What did the therapist say?’ Jaime asked, trying to go back to the subject, and take Selwyn’s mind off the fact that he could probably quite cheerfully murder Jaime.

‘Oh, nothing that made me feel better,’ Selwyn said. ‘He said he understood how I felt, but it wasn’t like Brienne could ever have died from what her soulmate – from what you,’ he said, his voice twisting on the last word - ‘put her though. And that it sounded like Brienne had forgiven me, so maybe I should try.’

‘And have you?’ Jaime asked.

‘No,’ Selwyn said. ‘No, it’s still there. Every time I look at her.’ The silence spread between them, and Jaime wondered if he was looking at his future; would he still be this twisted up inside over what he’d caused years from now? Was this the pain that Brienne had mentioned, the aching Jaime constantly felt, that nothing he ever did would be able to make up for their history?

Yes, he thought, and for a second he wondered what Brienne could possibly have been thinking, wanting to be with him. He loved Brienne; how would he ever be able to get over hurting her so badly?

And then, no, said another voice in his head that sounded a little like Brienne herself. Yes, Jaime would still feel bad, but he couldn’t let it consume him and stop him from being with her; in the long run, after she’d chosen to be with him wouldn’t that just be hurting her more? And if Brienne, the injured party, was willing to put their history, if not aside, then at least beneath them for them to work on, Jaime could damn well could suck it up and do it too.

Plus, he thought, it wasn’t like he was constantly thinking about what he’d done to her. Usually when he was looking at her, he was thinking about how pretty her eyes were, or how kind she was, or how her freckles looked like stars, or how her body would feel either underneath or on top of him (he hadn’t decided which one he’d like more, but he was certainly looking forward to the research). It was really only when he caught sight of her soulmark that his insides tightened and bile rose up in his throat.

And he knew she sometimes felt the same. Last night he’d reached over her for the remote and she’d seen his soulmark and she’d frozen on the sofa. Jaime had been able to pull her from her trance by saying her name gently and then talking rubbish about the show they were watching, and pulling her back to the moment, and the present. Of course, they’d spoken about it afterwards, and had decided to work on ways to help pull each other from their memories and thoughts.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jaime said. ‘I’m so sorry for what I put her through; but I’m also sorry for the pain it caused you.’

‘I’m not bothered about me,’ Selwyn said. ‘I just need to know that my daughter is happy and taken care of, and that she isn’t...I need to know that she isn’t making a big mistake. She’s believed in the magic of soulmarks her whole life, and I’m worried that she’s taking the road hers had led her to because of what she believes, not because...’

‘Not because being with me is actually what’s best for her,’ Jaime finished Selwyn’s sentence, and then sat back, a little stunned. He’d never thought about it like that before. Was Brienne just with him because of the soulmarks? Because she wanted to believe so badly in the stories she’d found solace in?

No. He felt he could state that with confidence; the soulmarks had almost been the reason she hadn’t been with him. It was him, Jaime Lannister that Brienne Tarth wanted, and he wouldn’t disrespect her by even pretending that maybe she didn’t know her own mind.

‘I love your daughter very much,’ Jaime said. ‘I know that our history is anything but a love story, and I assure you I feel guilt and pain and anger at everything I’ve ever caused her. But I love her – I could feel myself falling in love with her before I even knew what we were, that we were meant to be together. My heart knew she was the one before the soulmarks confirmed it.’ He thought about his heart then, about the hidden soulmark that should have been leeched from his body. He hadn’t tested his blood since the first time Brienne had done it and he felt no desire to do so now; Cersei was gone from him. He could feel that in his blood, and his bones, and his heart and his mind.

‘And I would very much like to look forward to what we can build together, rather than back at the pain and suffering,’ Jaime said. ‘And I would like, if not your happiness about it, then at least your trust. I can’t promise that I won’t hurt her unintentionally; I’m not always great at saying the right thing, but I promise to never harm her, or hurt her on purpose.’

‘I already gave Brienne my blessing,’ Selwyn muttered.

‘You already told Brienne that she could do what she liked and it wasn’t like you’d be able to stop her anyway,’ Jaime said. Brienne had told him that much at least. They’d gone to bed, (they were sleeping in the same bed because Jaime had told her that he hated the idea of waking up without her now that she was in his life, and she’d huffed and called him idiotic but she’d climbed into the bed willingly enough), and she’d let that bit of information slip out. But she’d looked at him with fire burning in her eyes, and Jaime knew that nothing anyone said would tear Brienne from his side. She had made the choice to be with him, and by god, she was going to be with him.

He’d loved her more for it, but he also knew that while the face she put on might be a good one, she would be hurting on the inside. She wanted her father to like Jaime, and she wanted him to respect her wishes and be happy for her and Jaime had come here (not only to see if the punching he well deserved was forthcoming), but also to see if he could change Selwyn’s mind.

‘It’s the truth,’ Selwyn said, but he groaned a little. ‘She loves you, she told me that,’ he said, and Jaime’s heart fluttered a little in his chest because they hadn’t yet said those words to each other, (it had only been two days after all), ‘and I respect her choices.’ Selwyn looked like he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, but he was focused on something that wasn’t in the room with them, and Jaime remained silent so Selwyn could gather his thoughts in peace. ‘She’s my little girl,’ he said eventually. ‘And she says that you do make her happy. I suppose if anyone deserves happiness, it’s her. And if you’re the person who gives her that...who am I to try and take it away?’ Selwyn spread his arms, then let them flop back to his sides. ‘I’ll put a happy face on it,’ he said, before quickly adding, ‘I am happy for her. When she told me she was with you, I was delighted. I’d only met you the few times, and I thought you decent. But I was happy she was moving on from her soulmate. When she then told me you were one and the same...I. Well. It’s a lot to overcome.’

‘It is,’ Jaime agreed. Brienne had needed two weeks to really sort out how she felt, and Selwyn hadn’t had nearly enough time.

‘If it makes you feel any better, I did come here today with the intention of letting you punch me,’ Jaime said. ‘Or call me as many bad names as you need to, to get it out of your system.’

‘Thanks,’ Selwyn said, and there was the briefest hint of a smile on his face. ‘I’m not ruling it out, but I don’t want Brienne to be any madder at me than I suspect she already is.’

‘She’s not mad,’ Jaime said. ‘She understands why you feel like you do; I understand why you feel like you do. We’re not being stupid about this you know,’ he added. ‘We know this is going to be hard, and that some days the pain will be there and we’ll probably question ourselves.’ Well, Brienne would probably question herself, Jaime supposed. The only thing Jaime would question would be why Brienne had chosen to be with him, but they’d agreed that when those thoughts did plague them, they’d go to each other. Brienne had told Jaime that she didn’t mind reassuring him when he panicked; and he’d told her that he would do the same. He would hold her, and treasure her, and give her all the comfort and love that he’d spent so long taking from her.

‘I just need Brienne to be happy,’ Selwyn said, and then he heaved a great sigh that sounded like it had been dug out from his very own soul, ‘and I suppose, if she picked you over everything, then she thinks that you will make her so.’ He paused. ‘I think you’ll make her happy too. Or at least you better.’

‘I intend to do everything within my power to make her so,’ Jaime said.

‘Well, then I suppose I can be happy. For her,’ Selwyn said. ‘I’m not saying I won’t be watching. And the slightest hint from Brienne that she’s changed her mind...’

‘You’ll help her leave,’ Jaime said nodding. It was only right, and he had a sneaking suspicion that if Brienne did ever change her mind so completely and utterly that Jaime’s begging and shower of love for her didn’t change it back, Jaime himself would help to pack her bags.

He was hoping it wouldn’t come to that, and he wasn’t going to focus on what could be; he was just going to enjoy every moment he and Brienne had together, and focus on them building a life and a future together.

‘I did think you’d make a good couple before all of this,’ Selwyn said, more to himself than Jaime. ‘I guess I’ll just have to try and go back to that.’

Jaime nodded. He hadn’t really got what he’d come here for, but maybe he’d helped to ease the tension between Brienne and her father, and that would always be more important.

‘Still haven’t ruled out punching you,’ Selwyn said, suddenly. ‘And I still think you’re an arsehole.’

Jaime smiled.

*

‘Mr Lannister, I understand there have been changes in your personal life that may be affecting your time, but I do expect a certain level of politeness from my clients. Politeness that extends to them coming to my office for their appointment, when they are called.’ Dr Stark stood in the doorway of her office, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

Jaime rather thought it would have been more effective if she wasn’t trying so hard not to smile.

‘I did tell him,’ Brienne said, sitting up at her desk. ‘But he wouldn’t listen to me.’

‘I always listen to you,’ Jaime corrected. ‘Unless you’re trying to tell me nonsense, like, that I should leave your desk and your company.’

He gave an effortless grin, and he knew Brienne was glaring at him, but she’d also turned a very fetching delicate pink, and he chose to focus on that instead. ‘I know you’re mad at me,’ he said, turning to Dr Stark. ‘But I know this is a ten-minute appointment, and that you allow half an hour between each client so you don’t compromise their privacy.’

‘As true as that may be,’ Dr Stark said, ‘Those half an hours that you seem to think are spent doing nothing are actually for paperwork and research and all manner of other aspects of my job that I need to fit in-between clients. And I don’t like delaying them.’

Jaime grinned at her then, but she didn’t budge, and he could tell that she was getting more annoyed by the second. He’d have to cut his time with Brienne short if he wanted to keep on Dr Stark’s good side.

And he did want to keep on her good side. ‘From what I hear you two have been spending all of your time together anyway. Does an extra ten minutes really matter all that much?’

‘I take every extra second I can get,’ Jaime muttered as he stepped away from the desk and followed Dr Stark back to her office. Just this week, Brienne had announced that she needed to return to her flat for a couple of days, instead of spending all of her free time with Jaime. He understood, and hadn’t pushed her on it, just hugged her a little harder and told her he’d see her soon.

But that one night had been hard. He wondered if this the effect of having your soul recognize one just like it, or just the first strains of love that was finally allowed to bloom. He’d had a restless nights sleep without Brienne in the bed next to him, and he knew it was something he’d have to discuss with his therapist at his next session; for all his feelings for Brienne, he didn’t ever want to feel like he couldn’t survive without her being in the same room as him. That wasn’t healthy, he knew that.

And Brienne would sometimes need space. Both of them had only ever had one relationship before, and this was a learning experience for both of them, which meant they’d sometimes get overwhelmed. Going from being alone to suddenly having another person in your space again was a big leap. Space was good.

At least that’s what Jaime had tried to tell himself as he tossed and turned all night.

His face had almost split in two, when the next morning at 7am he’d opened his door to find Brienne outside, a scowl on her face that she’d only been able to last 12 hours without him.

Jaime took his usual seat, opposite Dr Stark and laid his arm out on the table for her to study. There was no covering it with long sleeves today, or leaving it beneath a bandage. He might not ever be able to proudly display it to the world, not without being reminded of the past, but he also wasn’t going to hide it away anymore; he was done with all of that.

‘Does it look good, doc?’ Jaime asked. ‘Brienne’s been taking good care of it.’ Even though Jaime had settled into his routine of covering the soulmark with cream every evening, he had to admit that the process was made more enjoyable with Brienne next to him, doing the same.

‘So have you from what I hear,’ Dr Stark said, turning his arm this way and that. Jaime was forcefully reminded of his first session here, and he almost broke into a chuckle at who’d he’d been then; at what his life had been like. He hadn’t even wanted to find his soulmate at that point; he’d just wanted to erase the marks that Cersei had left on him.

‘Sounds like you’ve been hearing an awful lot,’ Jaime said, but he couldn’t help smiling. The idea that Brienne came to work each day and couldn’t help but talk about him made him feel warm inside.

And it was only fair. Tyrion had more than once this week, put his head in his hands because Jaime wouldn’t shut up telling his brother all about his new girlfriend and the things he was discovering about her each day. It had almost turned into a game between the brothers; who could talk about their new soulmate the longest and who would cave first? (It seemed bizarre to Jaime that he had no interest in Sansa’s working day, but yet he could listen about Brienne’s for hours. Not that Brienne would ever talk about her working day for hours, because she was way too professional for that.)

‘It’s nice to see Brienne happy,’ Dr Stark said. She laid Jaime’s arm back on the desk, and sat back in her chair. ‘I understand she was nervous about telling everybody about the two of you. With your history and the fact that she inspires such fierceness in the people who love her; her love for you must be very strong for her to overcome all of that.’

‘I hope so,’ Jaime said. ‘My feelings for her are strong.’

‘I’d never doubt it,’ Dr Stark said. ‘I’ve had a front row seat to your story after all. And I know that you’re both doing the right thing.’ She nodded her head, and Jaime felt another glow snake through his veins. Selwyn had been (rightfully) angry, Tyrion full of questions, and all their other friends and family a little surprised at the news. Not only were Jaime and Brienne together – but they were soulmates? Who’d suffered through damages for years? There had been guarded questions behind people’s eyes and Jaime could almost sense the word ‘doomed’ scrolling across their minds.

But Dr Stark supported them without a doubt. She was happy for them. She wasn’t focused on their past, but rather on what the rest of their life would look like.

‘When I realised that me and Ned had matching soulmarks, I felt a little like Brienne did,’ Dr Stark said. Jaime shifted his arm back to his side; the session was obviously over. ‘How could I be meant for Brandon’s brother? What would people think?’ She shook her head, and for a moment Jaime swore he could see her as a young woman. ‘But we put our trust in the universe and in ourselves, and look what we got out of it.’ She smiled at photo on her desk that Jaime had never seen the front of, but he suspected contained her children. ‘No. You and Brienne must do what is best for yourselves; and I truly believe that is being with each other.’

‘No one else even comes close,’ Jaime said, and ridiculously he felt his throat close up. He hadn’t ever cried in this room, not even with all the pain and suffering he’d been put through; he’d be dammed if he was about to start now.

‘I think you two will be very happy together,’ Dr Stark said. ‘I know it’ll be hard, but I believe you two can make it.’

‘Thanks doc,’ Jaime said. ‘That means a lot.’ He knew that Dr Stark wasn’t going to tell him not to hurt Brienne; that wasn’t part of her job and she wouldn’t bring it up during an appointment.

‘Your arm looks good,’ Dr Stark said briskly. ‘There’s still some healing to be done, but I’m confident that with time it should look as good as it ever did.’ Jaime sat back as Dr Stark lectured him about the numbers to contact if his arm started feeling painful or suffered from infection.

This was his last appointment here. There would be another one in four months, for a follow up, to check that everything was perfect, but he would no longer be coming here every Thursday. No more walks up the street, or a lavender scented lobby.

It was odd, Jaime thought. When he’d first come, he wanted nothing more than for this to all be over. He knew he was leaving with more than he’d ever expected, or even hoped for, but he was going to miss coming here. As much pain as these sessions had caused him, in a weird way, they’d also given him something to look forward to.

But, he supposed that was really all down to Brienne; and he wasn’t leaving her behind.

‘If you would like to leave and make an appointment with my assistant for four months' time, then I believe we are all done here Mr Lannister. As I’ve said, if any problems arise, please do not hesitate to contact us.’ Dr Stark was smiling now, standing when Jaime did so they could shake hands. She looked at his soulmark and Jaime swore she gave a happy little sigh at the sight of it.

She wasn’t about to take a photo and post it to a business social media page. And she wasn’t going to ask him for a statement that she could post on her website; but she’d done her job, and that was all she needed to be happy.

It was a rare quality to see.

‘I’ll see you in four months, Jaime,’ Dr Stark said as Jaime reached the door. Jaime thought he’d probably be seeing her before then; Brienne had made some noise about throwing a dinner party and bringing all of those closest to them together so everybody could meet. She’d also said it would be good to have everyone in a relaxed setting, and not at their places of work, which Jaime had to agree was a smart idea. ‘And I’m sure it’ll be tempting to spend the next forty minutes with Brienne, but please bear in mind I do actually need her.’

‘Oh, I think Brienne will kick me out long before that,’ Jaime said. ‘Goodbye, Dr Stark,’ he said before he left. ‘It’s been a pleasure. Thank you for everything.’

He knew he would be back in four months; that he wasn’t officially leaving her office for the last time. But still as the door closed behind him, with Dr Stark on the other side, Jaime couldn’t help but feel a little sad. It wasn’t going to be the same. Who knew what would happen in the next four months?

‘Everything okay?’ Brienne called out from the desk and Jaime made his way towards her nodding. There was a pile of paper on the desk next to her, Jaime’s details printed at the top.

‘Perfect,’ Jaime answered. ‘I need to set up an appointment for four months' time, and then I’ll no longer be a client.’

‘It’s a weird feeling isn’t it?’ Brienne said, and Jaime could tell that she’d experienced this hundreds of times over her time here. He supposed everyone felt the same after their last session; a little sad, a little happy. And he had so much more to be happy about than the average person.

‘I just need to go over a few things with you,’ Brienne said, handing Jaime the papers.

‘Really?’ he asked. ‘Dr Stark’s just told me all the information; do I really need to hear it from you too?’

‘It’s policy,’ Brienne said, and Jaime knew he wasn’t going to be able to budge her on this point; she would re-tell him everything Dr Stark just had including numbers to contact if his arm felt sore or infected, even though she would know if anything was amiss because she’d feel the same pain he did.

‘Oh, but I can think of much better ways to spend our time together,’ Jaime said, leaning a little over the desk, until he was face to face with Brienne.

He wondered if there would ever be a moment in his life where Brienne’s blue eyes would stare straight at him and his heartbeat wouldn’t increase, and he wouldn’t feel stuck in place, captured by their beauty and the brains behind them.

God, he hoped not.

He’d leaned over in an attempt to make her blush and lose her focus, but he should have known better than that; he was the one who was in danger of losing his brain function the longer he stared into her eyes.

‘That’s as well be Mr Lannister,’ Brienne said, and Jaime forced his lips to remain straight, ‘but I really do need to give you this information.’

She started to read the information that Jaime had already heard, and then, just as Jaime’s thoughts were glazing over, she leaned forwards over the desk to kiss him, her lips pressing against his, her eyes fluttering closed as her hands came up to cover the sides of his face.

When she pulled away, Jaime was breathless.

‘What was that for?’ he asked.

Brienne shrugged.

‘I needed to get you to pay attention somehow,’ she said, and then she reeled off the rest of the information.

‘I hope you don’t do that with all the clients,’ Jaime said, standing up a little and pulling his jacket down to give the appearance that he wasn’t as flustered as he was. It was bad enough the effect that Brienne had on him just by being near to him; if she was going to start randomly kissing him, Jaime was going to lose his reputation of being cool and level headed. ‘Although I agree, it is quite effective. Maybe you should offer it as a service. I’m sure it would certainly help take away some pain while the clients are undergoing treatments.’ He could still feel the echo of her on his lips, and the heat of her hands on his face as he took a step back from the desk. Brienne’s smug look had changed to a glare and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be on the end of a kiss the next time she reached for him. Teasing her about her work ethic was a sure-fire way to get under her skin.

It was a shame that Jaime just couldn’t help himself.

‘Goodbye, Mr Lannister,’ Brienne said, then turned back to her laptop.

Jaime walked towards the door, then took one final look back at the room he’d found everything he could ever possible want in.

‘I’ll see you tonight?’ he asked.

Brienne gave one small sharp nod of her head, and Jaime left, walking into the bright sunshine, grinning at the image he’d just left behind, which was one of his favourite sights in the world; Brienne with a smile she hadn’t wanted to show, splayed across her face.

Chapter Text

Jaime stared up at the building in front of him, a strange feeling spreading within him. It would be the last time he would come here. The last time Dr Stark – or Catelyn as he was now supposed to call her – would lean over her desk to examine his arm and his soulmark. The last time he’d walk through a lavender scented lobby, or hear panpipes playing over the speakers.

Jaime was sure that a building shouldn’t evoke so many emotions in a person, but yet as he stood here, staring at it, he couldn’t help the ones rushing around his body. He remembered the first time he’d come here, worried about the people staring out of their office windows at him, wondering what he was coming here for. He never could have imagined what he’d feel like today; this building had given him more than he’d ever dreamed possible, and it was overwhelming that he wouldn’t see it again after today.

Although, he reflected, he was getting to keep the best part of coming here. Brienne had stopped halfway down the street, saying she needed to find something in her bag, and then respond to a text message. She’d let Jaime walk on ahead, and he thought it was probably because she knew he would need this moment. She’d seen this in countless clients over the years; and, as much as he liked to think he was different to all the rest (and as much as he knew he was, at least in her eyes), he was also still a client. She was respecting his privacy and letting him process his emotions by giving him space.

Every day he felt like it would be impossible to love her more. They’d spent practically every day together since Jaime’s last appointment here four months ago, and so far every day there had always been a moment in which Brienne said or did something that made Jaime’s heart swoop and his love grow.

‘Everything okay?’ Brienne said as she joined him. She turned to face the building that she came to every day, and her hand found his.

‘It’s just weird,’ Jaime said. ‘Knowing I’m never going to be here again. This will be the last time I walk through those doors. This will be the last time I smell lavender or hear panpipes.’ Brienne, who had to listen and smell those every day had placed a blanket ban on them in her homelife, which Jaime had readily agreed to. She’d moved into Jaime’s place about two months ago, although he wasn’t really sure that moved in was the right word. It had been a gradual thing, her items appearing in Jaime’s place, and then one day she’d just never left to go back to her own flat. Jaime hadn’t mentioned anything, scared that if he voiced his deductions Brienne would leave, even if just for an hour or two.

She hadn’t, when Jaime had eventually given into his thoughts and asked her what was going on. She’d just shrugged and said it made sense, and that while she hadn’t yet put her house up for sale, because she wasn’t going to do something that major without talking to him, she had confessed that little of her personal effects remained in her flat.

‘I know this must be a little weird for you,’ Brienne said slowly, ‘but what are you talking about?’

‘This is my last session here,’ Jaime said.

‘I know that,’ Brienne said, and there was a hint of impatience creeping into her voice. ‘But what do you mean this is going to be the last time here?’

‘Well it is,’ Jaime said.

There was a pause, and Jaime could tell that Brienne was deciding on the best way to choose her next words.

‘Aren’t we getting dinner tonight?’ Brienne asked eventually.

‘As far as I’m aware,’ Jaime replied, a little thrown by the subject change. And by the fact that Brienne would need to check their plans with him; she was the one who remembered their plans, and then often text him during the day to make sure he remembered as well. (It wasn’t like he often forgot, it was just that some of the details slipped his mind, like the name of the restaurant they were booked into, or the time they were meeting.) (He’d finally got over his fear of his phone going off. His therapist had suggested during one of their sessions that Jaime change his ringtone so that it didn’t set his nerves off every time someone text him. It helped that he knew Brienne was more often than not at the other end.)

‘And didn’t you agree to pick me up after we both finished work?’ Brienne asked.

‘Yes,’ Jaime said again. He supposed that was another thing that was weird about today; it wasn’t midafternoon, but rather morning. He’d agreed to have the first appointment of the day so that he could walk Brienne into work.

‘So...,’ Brienne said, like she was leading Jaime to a point. Jaime stared at her. ‘So, when later this evening you come to pick me up to take me to dinner, you’ll come to pick me up from this building. Since I know you know we don’t have any client appointments at least an hour before we close, you’ll come into the lobby, because I also know that you’ll be ever so slightly early to pick me up.’ It was true that Jaime had a habit of slipping out of his office half an hour before he was technically supposed to leave. And it was true that – once he’d been reminded – he was always a little early to meet Brienne. He hadn’t picked her up from the offices before though which was probably why this little bit of logic had never occurred to him. ‘This isn’t your last time here, Jaime. It’s the last time you’ll be allowed in Catelyn’s office, but she’ll still allow you into the lobby as long as we have no client’s in.’ She paused. ‘Probably.’

‘Right,’ Jaime said, some of his sadness leaving him. This wouldn’t be his last time here. He’d be here again tonight, to take Brienne out to dinner. And he could walk her into work every day if he really wanted to.

It was silly really, he thought as he followed Brienne up the steps and waited for her to unlock the door. She got here half an hour before Catelyn did, so that Brienne could set up the offices for the day and make sure everything was ready to run smoothly. He knew this place was just a building, and he also knew that the main draw of it was the woman currently turning on her laptop and pulling a bunch of paperwork from her desk as Jaime settled himself onto the sofa to watch her.

But this building did hold a certain draw to him too. And although he knew he’d still be able to come and visit, he also knew it wouldn’t be quite the same.

‘How long do you think this will take?’ Jaime asked. ‘I promised Tyrion I’d be at the office by half ten so he can make Sansa’s sonogram on time.’

‘Normally I’d give you the speech about how Catelyn will check your arm over and ask you a few questions and depending on what she finds it should only take up to half an hour. But, since I know your arm is perfectly healed, and she practically knows all the answers to the usual questions, I’d say about ten minutes,’ Brienne replied. Jaime scratched at the perfectly smooth skin on his left arm, barely even looking at the soulmark there. It would always be a part of him - he didn’t really have a choice in that matter – but it no longer held the same amount of emotion tied to it that it once had.

He waited until Brienne had left to put her things in the staffroom and get the coffee machine set up for Catelyn and clients, before he pulled the sleeve of his jacket up, and stared at his right arm, and the newly marked skin there.

It still hurt a little, although he would never admit to it. Not to Brienne who hadn’t seemed to suffer at all, even though Jaime, who’d like to pride himself on his pain threshold had gritted his teeth the whole way through. He’d seen a knowing twinkle in Brienne’s eyes though as she sat and watched him get inked and he refused to prove her right.

And her skin appeared to have healed nicely, or at least she wasn’t telling him if it hadn’t. And she was far too practical about medical advice to let an infection fester.

The idea to get the tattoos hadn’t been a spur of the moment thing. It had crept up on Jaime one night as he’d turned over still half asleep and caught a glimpse of his soulmark in the moonlight. For one second, with the warm body next to him, he’d been convinced that a knife was coming his way, that warm blood would soon spill over his arm.

And then Brienne had given a gentle snore, turned over and flung her arm over him and Jaime remembered who he was and who he was with.

But the thought of having a mark that didn’t make him break out in a cold sweat occurred to him. He wanted something that didn't hold memories of damages, that wouldn't always seem a little darker than it was, that wouldn't forever remind him of his past.

He wanted something fresh and new for his future.

He wanted something that tied him to Brienne, something that he’d chosen. That they’d chosen.

(The Casterly Rock that would tie them together officially was currently sitting in a locked drawer in his office. He’d had the diamond taken out between the two lions and put a sapphire in, because he knew his father would never allow Brienne to wear anything else, but Jaime was determined to make it as personal as he could. Marriage was coming. Probably in the next few months if he were honest, because he just didn’t think he’d be able to wait much longer to propose.)

And so he floated the idea of tattoos to Brienne. Her smile had grown wider and wider as he haltingly stumbled though his plan, and then she’d throw her arms around him and Jaime almost thought she’d shed a tear or two, no matter what she denied later.

They’d had the appointment three weeks ago, and Jaime didn’t think he’d ever been happier with a decision.

Smaller versions of their soulmark sword now sat proudly on Jaime and Brienne’s right arms, although they’d swapped the lions’ head for something a little simpler; from Jaime’s arm gleamed a sapphire in the hilt, and from Brienne’s an emerald. They were plain and simple and they didn’t shimmer or glitter with the magic of soulmarks.

But they were perfect.

‘Ah, Jaime,’ said Catelyn as she entered the offices. ‘Is Brienne in the back?’ Jaime gave a nod of agreement, then stood to greet Catelyn, even though they’d seen each other two nights ago at the Stark household for a dinner Catelyn was holding. She seemed a little lighter these days, and Jaime thought that was rather down to her son’s soulmate’s father no longer suing her. (It was something about the woman Robb was supposed to have been with actually having matching soulmarks with Catelyn’s lawyer brother, but Jaime had been watching a very intense game of football at the time and had kind of missed Brienne’s explanation. And he couldn’t possibly ask her for the story again.) (Brienne had been delighted at another story to add to her ever-growing collection. She’d been talking recently about writing a book detailing all the different cases she’d heard of over the years. And how she might draw some of the soulmarks that had got her through the years to go with them. She’d been doing a lot more drawing lately, with Jaime there by her side, which she said helped her more than he could ever know.) ‘Well, you might as well come through,’ Catelyn said. ‘Although this is really just a meeting to cross all the I's and whatnot.’

It had been interesting over the past four months to see Dr Stark slip more and more into being Catelyn around Jaime. He hadn’t really thought there had been that much of a difference; she’d spoken to him about her personal life after all, and about her children, and of course the lines around Brienne had always been a little blurred; but he couldn’t have been more wrong. The words she’d said in her office were crafted and thought out, and she had revealed nothing that she hadn’t wanted Jaime to know, (except maybe after she’d found out about Tyrion and Sansa. She’d let the mask slip a little then, not that Jaime could blame her.)

As Jaime went to enter Catelyn’s office, he heard the staffroom door open, and he turned around. Brienne was standing behind her desk chair, looking at him. And he swallowed the lump that rose in his throat because he didn’t have to work for her smiles anymore (unless she was annoyed at him). Because even just a glimpse of him could make her smile, make her eyes light up.

He made someone feel like that. The simple matter of his being brightened someone’s world, and it was still such a hard fact to get his head around, whenever he saw Brienne’s face smiling just because she’d seen his.

She loved him, as much as he loved her. It still seemed impossible sometimes, but it was true and good and right and Jaime who had never even hoped for this still couldn’t believe his luck.

‘Good luck Mr Lannister,’ Brienne called, echoing the words he’d never been quite sure he’d heard the first time he’d entered this office.

‘Thank you,’ he said back. ‘That does make me feel much better.’ Her smile grew wider, and Jaime knew that even though she pretended that Jaime had been nothing but another client to her for months, some part of her had remembered everything they’d ever said to each other.

‘I’ll be right here when you get out,’ Brienne said. She scratched at her right arm, her nails grazing over her brand-new sword tattoo.

And even though Jaime knew it was impossible, that it was probably just some psychological trick of his mind and body, as he made his way into Dr Catelyn Stark’s offices for the very last time, he almost swore he could feel tiny little nails digging into the marks they’d chosen to put on their bodies.

The magic of soulmarks indeed.