Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Her phone buzzed, half-waking her.

Brienne focused blearily on the flashing red message light  for a moment before letting her head thump back down on the pillow and screwing her eyes shut. Whatever it was could wait till morning… and she could get back to the lovely dream she'd been having that had involved her and Renly on the kind of sophisticated date she never went on anywhere outside of her head…

Buzz. Buzz.

 With a groan she flung a hand out and fumbled around for the phone as best she could without opening her eyes. This had better be an emergency, at the very least a hospitalization or whoever was texting her at 3am on a Tuesday morning was going to die.

Cracking open an eyelid, Brienne winced as the bright light from her phone stabbed at her eyeballs.

'Brne were r u?'

A glance at the sender ID told her it was Jaime Lannister but she didn’t need to look really. Honestly, he was the only person she knew who texted like a pre-teen girl. Okay he claimed it wasn't his fault, he was dyslexia, etc, etc but really sometimes she was sure he just mashed the buttons and sent the result.

Buzz

A second message joined the first one.

'Musc sux, mghit be drunj, Tyrions fault litl basturf oudrinkin me'

As far as Jaime’s texts went these weren’t the most difficult ones to decipher but her brain wasn’t entirely co-operative due to the fact it was 3-bloody-am. Marshaling what little energy she had, Brienne hit reply.

'It's 3AM. I'm in bed like a normal person. Trying to sleep. Stop texting me'

With a sigh, she shoved the phone as far under her pillow as possible and pulled her covers up to her chin. Was it worth trying to go back to sleep? Her eyelids were heavy,already sliding closed but she knew that inevitably…

Buzz

Of course.

'Do u wnat companey?'

She frowned at the screen, reading the text message twice to make sure she’d deciphered it correctly. Gods, he must be hammered… or think she was someone else… or…

'Has Tyrion stolen your phone or something? If so, Tyrion this isn't funny.'

Jaime's little brother was just the type to think it hilarious to send her text messages propositioning her in his brother's name. When she'd been employed as a bodyguard by the Lannister family he'd always been the one to relentlessly tease Jaime for having a female guard him. The one who decided to blast that damn Whitney Houston song everywhere they went. The one who liked to make inappropriate jokes about the pair of them all the time.

Not to say she didn't like him.... actually she'd gotten on better with Tyrion than she had with Jaime, especially at the beginning.

'Tyrion iz pased out in teh braests of a woman, mightbe a striper not sure.He seems hapy gonna leve him there.You din't answear my question- do you wan company??'

Oh great. Now she wouldn’t be able to look at Tyrion Lannister ever again without imagining him passed out drunk in the cleavage of a stripper. Perfect, the one member of the Lannister family she actually got on with, ruined by one awful mental image.

Quickly and decisively, Brienne stabbed the button and sent her reply’

'No'

'Lies, yuo lov me Bernne.'

She was about 80% certain ‘Bernne’ was her, which meant he was at least aware of who he was texting. Probably. 

'I begrudgingly tolerate you.'

'Lies, U love me, an yu want me to com over n keep u companey in yr bed. Becuz u fancy the trozers off me.'

'Please keep your trousers on and don't come anywhere near my flat.'

For a moment her phone was quiet and Brienne wondered if maybe he'd passed out somewhere. Then-

Buzz.

'Ur mean, y ar yuo so mean to me? U look at me all judgementel with ur judgy jugy eyes. Judgy but prettty, v/blue leik skies n water n cerael packets n socks, that kind blu.'

Brienne flushed slightly at the unexpected compliment, pushing herself so she was in a more upright position as she considered her reply. Really she should just stop texting back, it was probably encouraging him if he kept getting a response. And he would be mortified in the morning, if she was sensible she'd just turn her phone off and leave the conversation here…

'I'm not mean, I'm honest and don't fall for any of your charming bullshit'

'Ha! U think m charming, yuo love me.'

'Jaime, go home and sleep it off'

'But I love u 2' 

Her heart squeezed unexpectedly, which made her feel ridiculous. It was a drunken, poorly spelled text message. She was not going to get sentimental over something that wasn’t even true.

Her phone buzzed again.

'U hav a rilly nice arse as well. I wna squeze ir sometimes but dnt think ull let me case ur mean”

'Touch me and die Lannister'

'See mean. U can touch me, ne bit u like.'

'I don't want to touch you.'

'U do, u wany 2 touch most of me. Tyrionis awke now, eh sez if we r sexting we need to spell right'

'WE'RE NOT SEXTING'

'Mo need to txt-yell. But yelling is like 4play 4 u right? Like bears who growl at thier mates to build damns 4 fish carching…or smethin'

Before she could even reply to the other text her phone buzzed again

'Sry, bears don' buld damns, thye buld nests,sry. Or if that burds?'dunno, werid;'

She stared at the text message for a full minute, wondering if this was just alcohol or if maybe he was on some kind of street drug that turned you into a raving lunatic. 

'Bears don't build things. Birds build nests. Go home before you get alcohol poisoning'

It took so long for the reply to come that she was starting to get a little worried that he'd choked on his own vomit or something. That was what drunk people did right?

'Dnt tell them wht to do thy can buld nests if they wnt to they are free. and am I to keep dfrinkin'

'Fine but I am not coming to morgue to identify you when you die. Your father will have to go'

”S mean. Ideamnd you idenfy my corpse. Friends ID freinds corpses. U live west streer right?’

'What? Why?'

After a long moment without a reply, she furiously typed out

'Jaime, you better not be coming over here..;

There was a thump outside her front door, some kind of slurred shout that might have been her name and then... the sound of someone snoring loudly.

Cautiously she eased it open.

Jaime Lannister was passed out on her welcome mat, reeking of smoke and cheap fruity drinks, his phone still clutched in his hand. For a long moment Brienne stared down at him…her Welcome Mat was probably more comfy than he deserved…she should leave him where he was, teach him a lesson…

She sighed.

"You’re lucky I’m strong enough to carry you," she muttered to him, picking him up in a fireman’s lift and hauling him inside

Chapter Text

“I have to go to work.”

Brienne stood in the middle of her lounge and announced this loudly to the unmoving lump on her sofa.

There was absolutely no response.

She waited there awkwardly for another moment, considering what to do. It was her flat, she shouldn’t feel so hesitant about getting someone to leave but then she’d never had a drunken former employer snoring heavily on her sofa before. She’d gotten him a glass of water and some aspirin but beyond that she wasn’t really sure what you were supposed to do with hung-over people. 

Jaime snorted and burrowed further into her sofa cushions.

“You need to leave.”     

Trying to shake off the weird feeling she was somehow intruding, Brienne marched over and seized his shoulder, shaking it firmly. He made a disgruntled noise and tried to bat her hand away.

“Wake Up!”

Finally Jaime emerged from under the blanket, blinking blearily up at her. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a tangled mess.

“Must you be so loud?”

His voice was hoarse, a raspy whisper compared to his normal smooth precise tones and annoyingly she felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Which was ridiculous, this was an entirely self-inflicted state, he deserved every last bit of what he was feeling right now. Nevertheless he looked so pitiful that Brienne sighed and held out the water glass as a peace offering.

He accepted it, greedily gulping down the water as if he’d been stranded in the desert for a month.

“I have to go to work. You need to leave.”

Finishing the water he let the glass roll from his hands, melodramatically slumping back down and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Gods, just go then and leave me here to die.”

“I am not leaving you alone in my house.”

He cracked an eyelid open, glancing around the room with open distaste.

“This is your house?”

“My flat, yes.”

 “Really? I thought I’d passed out in a broom cupboard. How can you live like this?”

Okay so her living space was a little on the small side but it wasn’t like she needed much space just for her. It was on the tip of her tongue to respond that not everyone had penthouse apartments bought for them by their father but she managed to bite it back. There was no point getting into an argument with him, if their previous altercations were anything to go by she’d be here all day.

Jaime dragged himself upright, groaning and clutching at his forehead.

“Wait… why am I in your house?”

Without giving her a chance to reply he continued on,

“Really I’m flattered you missed me so very much but kidnapping is a little far to go, don’t you think?”

Annoyed, Brienne made a point of looking up very obviously at the clock on her wall. She was already running 10 minutes late, if she didn’t get moving soon there was no way she’d make it in on time.

“You showed up at my front door at 3am. I should have left you out there.”

Jaime stretched showily, joints cracking so loudly they made her wince.

“Why on earth would I show up at your door?”

 “Don’t ask me. You were the one sending me texts proclaiming your undying love last night.”

“Gods, really? How much had I had to drink?”

He looked more surprised than anything, as if he genuinely didn’t comprehend why he’d been texting her. Well it just confirmed what she’d already suspected…it was the alcohol and probably Tyrion’s influence that had been behind it rather than anything else.

“You didn’t say.”

 “No offense just… not something I’d be saying sober… I must have been practically paralytic.”

That one stung a little, even though it was probably true.

He looked around for his phone, which he eventually located neatly tucked inside one of his discarded shoes and scrolled through his sent folder with an increasing confused look on his face.

“…bears?”

“Apparently.”

Brienne folded her arms, trying to glare him into moving.

“I’m going to be late for work.”

Apparently having read his fill of messages from the night before, Jaime slipped the phone into his pocket and leant back against her sofa cushions, obviously in no hurry to get up.

“This wouldn’t be a problem if you were still guarding me…who’re you working for now?”

“Renly Baratheon.”

She managed to keep her voice flat as she said his name.

“Ah yes, Renly ‘Gayer than a May Day Parade’ Baratheon, he’s some hot shot politician now isn’t he? With a pretty little fake fiancé and a whole ‘family values’ campaign, the irony. .”

There was a twisting feeling in her gut and Brienne fought not to look away from him, not to blush as she responded.

“Those are malicious tabloid rumours that have absolutely no basis in fact.”

Jaime looked back at her, almost smug; sitting sprawled out on her sofa as if he owned the place.

“I went to grammar school with him, trust me on this one. I once caught him and that little fairy Loras Tyrell going at it in the boy’s toilets; I was practically scarred for life…”

Brienne grabbed him by the scruff of his t-shirt and abruptly hauled him toward the door. The blanket tangled in his legs and he almost lost his balance.

“Out!”

Jaime managed to kick the blanket off before he fell but she still shoved him unceremoniously toward the door. God, she remembered why she’d quit the Lannister job in the first place… it’d been days and days of Jaime Lannister and his mocking comments, Jaime Lannister and his almost pathological need to test her patience, Jaime Lannister and his infuriating inability to respect her personal space.

He was laughing at her now.

“My, that was a bit of an overreaction...unless… don’t tell me you fancy him?”

Her awkward silence and ferocious blush apparently told him everything. His grin turned mocking.

“Oh god, you do!”

“I don’t fancy him! He’s my employer!”

He was hanging doggedly onto the doorframe while she tried her best to push him out.

“I know you haven’t had much experience with men but this is just sad! It’s best you find out now rather than when he takes your trousers off and is disappointed to find out you’re missing something down there-“

She finally managed to dislodge him and slammed the door in his face.

“Brienne! Brienne, come on!”

There was a long moment of silence, then through the door he called,

“…you still have my shoes.”

Chapter Text

‘Sory Im a bit mean when Im hungova’

His texting was far more legible now he was sober.

Brienne hesitated for a moment before thumbing the delete button once again. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of replying, that had been her mistake last night. Maybe if she’d ignored him then she wouldn’t be exhausted, angry and have an unwanted pair of shoes sitting in her living room.

Buzz.

 ‘You still hav my shues’

As if he’d read her mind…

Delete.

If it hadn’t been imperative that she leave it on for work, she would’ve switched off her phone. Instead she just shoved it back into the depths of her suit jacket pocket and slid into the front seat of the car that was waiting outside of Baratheon campaign headquarters.

Buzz.

‘I steped in sum v. unplesent things on my way home’

Good, she thought uncharitably, deleting that one as well. As far as she was concerned Jaime Lannister could go for a long walk off a short pier, without his bloody shoes. Brienne glanced up to see the driver giving her a bit of a strange look… she would have to work on keeping her homicidal thoughts from showing on her face.

Buzz.

‘Is ur fault Tyrions laughing at me’

She stifled a yawn wondering how long he was going to keep texting her. It had been about thirty texts since this morning, half of which were demanding his shoes back. Didn’t he have anything better to do?

“Late night?”

Margaery Tyrell slid into the back of the car, looking like she’d just stepped out of the fashion pages of a glossy magazine, as usual.

“Renly’s not coming I’m afraid, he asked if it would be alright if you escort me over to Highgarden as he’s not planning to leave the office until later.”

Brienne swallowed her disappointment and nodded tersely. It wasn’t because she fancied Renly, she justified to herself, she just liked his company… he was always so kind to her. And she hadn’t exactly had much to do with his fiancé so far but in her experience women who looked like Margaery had little or no time for women who looked like her.

Case and point- Cersei Lannister.

Her phone buzzed again and she steadfastly ignored it. Maybe she should text him back just to point out the folly of deliberately annoying someone who carried a firearm and was trained in six different types of martial arts.

A few streets later Margaery leant forward in her seat, tapping Brienne on the shoulder.

“So is the yawning something to do with whoever sent you seven text messages in the last five minutes?”

Brienne wasn’t sure how to respond to that so she settled for staring stonily out of the front window. She’d never really interacted with Margaery Tyrell and the low thrum of jealousy the other woman provoked in her generally made her feel horrible about herself.

“Oh come now, I’m bored out of my mind surrounded by all these tedious men! I’m in desperate need of a little girl talk.”

“I don’t girl talk, Miss Tyrell.”

Her phone buzzed again.

“Someone’s persistent!” Margaery smiled.

“Annoying is the word,” Brienne muttered, deleting his last couple of text messages without reading them.

“It doesn’t sound like he’s giving up… I’m assuming it’s a he?”

Brienne nodded shortly and when Margaery’s stare of patient interest didn’t waver she sighed and gave in.

“Someone I used to work for… he got drunk last night and started texting me ridiculous things. Then he passed out on my doormat.”

Hopefully now she’d realised how uninteresting the story was, Renly’s fiancé would settle back in her seat and leave her alone for the rest of the journey.

No such luck, instead Margaery Tyrell’s face lit up.

“So it was a booty call!”

“A what?”

“You know, a booty call?” Margaery waited for the penny to drop and when it didn’t, added with a little laugh “He wanted sex!”

Brienne went bright red and she pretended not to hear the driver’s quiet snicker.

“No.”

“Brienne, isn’t it?” She wrinkled her nose in what had to be the world’s most endearing smile “I know a woman in your admirable line of work might not have much opportunity to see men…socially. They can be such babies about things like a woman being strong, can’t they? So it might have gone over your head but let me inform you a man does not come to a ladies house, drunk, in the middle of the night without an agenda.”

Maybe if she’d looked like Margaery she’d have less trouble believing something like that but she’d had far too much experience of men joking around about sleeping with her because the idea was so repugnant to them. Jaime hadn’t actually meant any of it, he’d just got a rather crude sense of humour.

“It… wasn’t like that.”

She was rather sure she knew what it was about actually. There had been something she’d realised back when she was his bodyguard.

Buzz.

‘I hav unlimted free txts n nothing els to do unles u reply I wont stop txting u’

Jaime Lannister was really a very lonely person in a lot of ways. Perhaps even lonelier than she was.

With a sigh, Brienne hit reply.

 ‘You’re forgiven’

Chapter Text

Her door was ajar.

Brienne froze in the act of reaching for the handle, the rain slowly plastering her hair to her head …this was the last thing she needed right now. It had been a long day and all she wanted was a hot cup of tea and her pyjamas but apparently that was too much to ask. Faint sounds were coming from inside but she couldn’t quite make them out – voices maybe?  

For a moment she contemplated simply calling the police. But experience had taught her that a robbery ‘in-progress’ was likely to be a robbery well and truly finished by the time the local constabulary decided to show up. No, she’d have to deal with this herself. Cautiously she slid a hand into her coat, checking the gun that was snugly nestled in her shoulder holster. But after a moment’s hesitation, she pulled her hand away, deciding not to loosen it. If there were thieves in her flat she could probably incapacitate them unarmed. 

Gently she reached round and eased the door fully open, keeping herself flattened against the wall.

The sounds got a little clearer…they sounded like… a football game?

Brienne peered round the door jam, every muscle in her body tense.

Jaime Lannister was sat on her sofa like he owned the place, the TV blaring out full volume and a bottle of her beer in his hands.

Annoyed, Brienne slammed her door the rest of the way open and stomped her way inside, leaving a trail of water behind her.

“What are you doing in my house, Lannister?”

He leant his head back on the sofa, taking in her rather dishevelled state.

“And how was your day, dear?” His eyes fell on the puddle she was leaving on her carpet “Raining is it?”

Brienne folded her arms and glared down at him.

Jaime gestured toward where he’d propped his feet up on her coffee table. He was wearing his shoes from last night. It made her wonder what he’d done with the shoes he’d walked there in.

“These are £300 shoes; did you really expect me just to leave them here?”

That amount was absolutely nothing to a Lannister, she knew that and Jaime knew she knew that.

Brienne glanced back suspiciously at the door, absolutely positive she’d locked it after herself. It shouldn’t surprise her that Jaime Lannister had turned to petty criminal activity. Well maybe the ‘petty’ bit was a bit of a surprise, she’d expected him to follow more in the footsteps of his ‘shady business connections’ father whose business rivals had a suspicious habit of dropping dead in a way the police could never quite connect with him.

 “You’re breaking into my house now?”

“I didn’t break in, you leave the spare key in such an obvious place that I couldn’t resist. Really, I’m just pointing out your lack of household security. And from someone in your line of work as well… shocking!”

He, rather smugly, produced the key from his jacket pocket but pulled it away when she made a grab for it, dangling it so it was just out of reach unless she physically climbed over him. Which was something she absolutely, categorically refused to do.

Instead she reached across and pushed his feet off the coffee table, making sure to drip her wet hair on him at the same time. While he was spluttering and wiping his face, she slumped down on the sofa next to him, for lack of anywhere else to sit.

She knew texting him back had been a bad idea.

“You need other friends.”

“We’re not friends, as you keep reminding me. We’re merely cordial arch-enemies.”

He reached across, handing her one of her own beers and commenting, “You have shit taste in beer by the way.”

“Go home and drink your own then.”

It tasted bitter in her mouth but it was relatively cold.

She wasn’t actually much of a drinker and these had been languishing in her fridge since… no she wasn’t going to think about that…

Forcing herself to choke down the mouthful she’d taken Brienne sat the bottle down on the coffee table, wishing she could do something to get the after-taste out of her mouth.

Jaime was obviously watching her out of the corner of his eye but the minute she looked up he pretended to be absorbed in the game. As if he even knew anything about sports.

She noticed the collection of empty bottles on her floor… it seemed clear he’d been here awhile.

“You shouldn’t be drinking if you’re hungover.”

“Hair of the dog.”

He took another swallow and grimaced,

“Or something of the dog anyway… you know, we should get a drink together sometime. A proper drink.”

“No.”

“Why not? Afraid drink will make you give in to your deep-seated sexual urges for me?”

“I have a gun,” she reminded him, irritably, only barely resisting the urge to open her jacket and show him.

“Oh trust me, I remember.”

The good humour was still in his voice but it was tinged with annoyance now.

“You’re still going on about that?”

“You almost shot me!”

“You would have deserved it.”

They settled down into a familiar sullen silence and Brienne almost felt relieved. This she could deal with. Arguing with each other had been a constant of their professional relationship. It was him stealing her things and being almost nice that was somewhat new…

A clink of light caught her attention and she realised that her front door wasn’t the only one ajar.

“Have you been in my bedroom?” she asked, filled with sudden suspicion.

“What? No, that would be an invasion of your privacy!”

He looked so innocent that for a second she almost believed him, until he added-

“I certainly didn’t see that you still have teddy bears on your bed.”

She could feel the blush heating up her cheeks. Honestly, it was just the one bear and father had brought it into the hospital when she was born. He was patched and missing an eye but she’d never been without him, he’d slept on her bed every night apart from that one summer at Brownie Camp when she’d left him at home and had been utterly unable to sleep.

His name was Bart.

“I have one and that’s… it’s none of your…just …go home!”

His response was simply to grin in an infuriatingly smug manner and take another sip of his rapidly dwindling beer. On the TV screen there was an enthusiastic roar and someone scored a goal…she wondered since when did Jaime watch sports. He’d never shown any interest in it when she’d been guarding him.

“You hate football.”

“True. But there is very little on… I checked your recordings and I am shocked by your abysmal taste in television programs.”

She snatched the remote control off of him and switched the TV off.

“Well that was rude, I was watching that…”

“Really. Who was playing then?”

“Uh…”

Deciding she was going to get the root of this nonsense once and for all, Brienne turned to face him.

“Look Jaime… when I was your bodyguard you hated me.”

He looked rather put out by that.

“I didn’t hate you…I may have been a trifle harsh on you at first…”

“Trifle harsh…I had numerous fantasies about all the ways I was going to kill you. Which was the complete opposite of my job description.”

Sometimes, when he’d been particularly obnoxious, it had been all that had gotten her through the day.

Jaime raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“Now, I like the beginning of that sentence… ”

She hit him with one of the sofa cushions and he groaned melodramatically, clutching his head.

“Okay, fine…the honest truth is that I’m too hungover to deal with my family today. This was the only place I could think of that no one would look for me. And I really did want my shoes.”

Brienne eyed him suspiciously but it seemed he was being genuine. She supposed she didn’t entirely  blame him… if she’d had family like the Lannisters she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t want to disappear off the face of the Earth occasionally as well.

“You can’t just break into my house because you don’t want to talk to your family.”

“Again, didn’t break in. I had a key.”

He patted the pocket that still contained her spare.

“You’re not sleeping here again,” she cautioned him, switching the television back on again and settling back against the cushions. He smiled at her and she resisted the urge to smile back.

“Agreed. Your sofa is just too uncomfortable.”

Later on, when he’d finally gone home, Brienne opened her cupboard to put away her clothes.

Neatly tucked away next to hers on her shoe rack there were a pair of extremely expensive looking men’s shoes.

Chapter Text

One year to the day earlier…

“Mr Lannister, my name is Brienne Tarth.”

She stood in front of him as she’d been taught, gaze direct, feet braced firmly apart. Her suit was far better tailored than normal and had cost enough money to make her wince but Lannister Sr. had  e-mailed her, sent an advance, insisted that if she was going to guard his son she had to look ‘well turned out’.

Jaime Lannister got to his feet and sauntered over to her, in no hurry. He was pretty much what she’d expected- handsome, well-groomed, condescending look seemingly permanently attached to his features.

“Oh gods you’re my new bodyguard?” he squinted up at her face, looking slightly surprised “Are you a woman?”

She fought against an embarrassed flush, keeping her face neutral.

“I’m a close protection officer, Mr Lannister and yes a woman. I assure you my gender has no bearing on my ability to do my job.”

It really annoyed her how many men were dismissive of the idea of hiring her purely because of her sex. In fact the vast majority of her jobs before this one had been for the daughters of wealthy business men who, for whatever reason, didn’t want any males near their little girl.

Jaime Lannister was in fact her first male client.

“I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Close protection officer and that is an issue you will have to take up with your father. Until such a time as my employment is terminated, I will be shadowing you.”

“Does my father really think hiring some great ugly troll of a woman to follow me around is going to do any good?”

The comments stung more than they should have done. Over the years she’d heard several variations, often far more cutting and creative than ‘troll’. Still…

“Again, that is an issue you’ll have to take up with your father.”

His eyes glinted in a way that seemed almost dangerous.

“Oh I shall.”

Eleven months, three weeks earlier…

Brienne knocked on his door in a manner she hoped was firm but polite.

“I need your itinerary for the week Mr Lannister.”

Jaime motioned her in without looking up from whatever he was frowning at on his phone, jabbing the buttons as if they had personally offended him.

Finally he slipped it into his jacket pocket and looked over at her.

“Oh same as usual… naked sauna, strip club, nudist beach…tell me will you be abiding by the dress code?”

Don’t blush, don’t you dare blush she told herself but she could feel her cheeks heating up in defiance of her attempt.

“Mr Lannister I need your itinerary in order to keep you fully secure I need to check security at any venues you will be attending beforehand…”

It was probably the most arduous part of the job, painstakingly figuring out exit plans and checking for potential security threats. People who thought this job was all exciting gun fights and car chases were usually incredibly disappointed when they figure out it was mostly admin work.

Jaime Lannister sighed dramatically,

“I haven’t the faintest clue what I’m doing next week but my father can probably provide you with my schedule.”

Eleven months, two weeks and six days earlier…

Brienne knocked on the heavy oak door, pushing it open just far enough so she could peer inside.

“Excuse me I’m looking for Mr Lannister?”

The chair behind the desk spun round to reveal someone who definitely wasn’t Tywin Lannister.

“Well you’ve found him but I doubt it’s the right one. If you’re looking for my father you are out of luck, he is…as usual… out of country on business. If you are looking for my brother then you really should be keeping better tabs on him, assuming you are who I think you are.”

Oh…this had to be her principles brother. The brief had included a short paragraph about him but she hadn’t really given him much thought until now since he wasn’t the Lannister she was paid to protect.

He slid off the chair and strode forward, stretching his hand out.

“Tyrion Lannister, sometimes called the ‘Demon Imp’ by the more creative tabloids. Or I was until Father sued them for defamation, personally I rather liked it…so much more original than simply ‘the Lannister dwarf’.”

Brienne leant down awkwardly and shook the man’s pro-offered hand.

“Brienne Tarth. I was looking for your father in order to get Mr Lannister’s weekly itinerary, he’s twice neglected to provide me with it which makes doing my job a little difficult.”

She rather thought if she spent too much time in the company of the younger Lannister she’d end up with a crick in her neck since she had to tuck her chin practically flat against her chest to look him in the eye. He seemed more amused than offended by that fact thankfully.

“Well I imagine I can rustle up a copy. Now please, do let me know if my brother is in need of a good talking to. I imagine he is not best pleased with having a female bodyguard…”

“Close protection officer. And no.”

“Such a waste, I would have rather adored to have a female bodyguard myself but alas father seems to believe I’m some sort of pervert!”

Tyrion gave her a wink that was probably supposed to be lascivious but didn’t quite manage it. When she neglected to offer an opinion, he continued on,

“Oh well, ours is a love that can never be I’m afraid. The logistics alone are mind-boggling… how tall are you exactly?”

She shifted, uncomfortable.

“I’m six foot three.”

Tyrion made a show of leaning back in order to take her in.

“That is… tall.”

Her principle appeared in the doorway, stopping in his tracks when he saw who she was talking to. Jaime frowned, looking mildly annoyed.

“What are you two doing?”

His brother gestured up at her.

“I was attempting to woo away your Amazonian bodyguard but alas it seems she is devoted to you. It appears I’m stuck with Bronn, which at least has the upside of vastly improving my awareness of many, many different swear words and ways to kill men with only a kitchen knife. The man is positive a fount of knowledge on some extremely specialist subjects.”

Jaime stalked over to her and shoved some paper into her hands.

“My itinerary, you can stop bothering my family members now.”

Ten months earlier…

Brienne became aware of a presence in the doorway behind her and sighed loudly.

 “Mr Lannister, I am attempting to conduct a risk assessment on your plans for next week, do you need me for something?”

He slouched into the room, looking more like a disgruntled teenager than a grown man in his forties. She was started to recognise some of his moods and this was one of his more aggravating turns…when he was in this kind of mood he would needle her about everything, trying to get a response.

“You’re my bodyguard aren’t you? Aren’t you supposed to be glued to my side at all times? Someone could jump me and stab me while you were in here and you wouldn’t even know, would you?”

“Mr Lannister I am fifteen feet away from you and you were watching television. Should anyone stab you, I’m confident my training would allow me to apprehend them.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“After they’d stabbed me?”

Brienne didn’t deign to answer that one. He was plainly just bored and looking to get a rise out of her.  Rather than taking her silence as a hint to leave her alone, Jaime walked over and settled himself on her desk, sitting directly on some of the paperwork she needed.

“I could probably outfight you, you know.”

“Really.”

Try as she might she couldn’t help the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“Yes, really. I was a national finalist in the 2008 Kick-boxing championships, I box on a regular basis with some seasoned opponents, I have a personal trainer six times a week. Maybe some men could take me on, but not you.”

For a moment she took a professional, assessing look at him… his build was compact but strong, muscular. Then she shrugged nonchalantly and answered,

“I could take you.”

She probably shouldn’t have said it but it was truth. All those muscles might look good but they were mostly gym-honed, not necessarily ideal in a fight. She’d mastered so many different martial arts she was starting to lose track. He boxed? Good for him, so did she. Kick-boxing?  All well and good, she’d been taught to kill a man 30 different ways with her bare hands. He had a personal trainer making him lift weights? She could probably bench-press more than him.

Jaime Lannister stood back, grinning ferally and loosening his tie.

“Punch me then, come on.”

Brienne grit her teeth and turned her attention back to the building schematics she was studying.

“Mr Lannister that would be against my job description.” Much as I would dearly like to.

“You couldn’t beat me,” he repeated, smug and self-satisfied.

Don’t you have anything better to do? She thought, irritably, forcing herself to loosen her grip on the pen she was holding before it snapped clear in two.

Obviously not because he perched himself back on her desk again, prodding her chair with his foot.

“How about an arm wrestle?”

“No.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re absolutely no fun?”

9 months ago…

Jaime was lazing on the sofa, one leg thrown over the arm rest in complete disregard for the fact his shoes were getting mud on what was no doubt a priceless antique.

He leant his head back, staring at Brienne until she looked up from the e-mail she was writing and raised her eyebrow.

“Would you take a bullet for me?”

Brienne hesitated for a moment, wondering what inevitable punch-line this was building toward.

“That’s my job.”

Her answer seemed to disappoint him for some reason and he let himself flop back down on the sofa.

“How sickeningly noble, you’d die for someone you don’t even like because it’s your job.”

“You want me to take a bullet for you because I like you? Try being nicer to me.”

“In case you haven’t noticed I’m like this with everyone, why should you be any different?”

He’d leaned his head again and was looking at her seriously for once, eyes free of any humour. For a moment she was startled, looking down at him in confusion.

“I don’t like having a bodyguard,” he explained, clearly “But you’re… I trust you. Which is more than I can say for most of the people in my life.”

Brienne just nodded, at a loss for what else to say.

Present Day…

Her phone buzzed.

‘Happy One Year First Meeting-iversary. Can you believe they don’t make cards for that? I checked. Also you’re out of milk’

Frowning, she texted back.

‘I took away your key, how the do you keep getting into my flat?’

She hesitated for a moment before a small smile pulled up the corner of her lips.

‘Happy…meeting-iversary to you as well.’