#¬jaime lannister. [ rel. brienne of tarth ]

[swordmaid]

i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…

[atopvisenyashill]

if condal had been able to wrestle away asoiaf from d&d and do his little queer coding for random characters who do you think it’s getting that treatment in the main series. i’m not doing a poll bc he’d obviously choose more than one character to do this with (considering he basically did it with every targaryen + alicent, u can make the argument here for others as well imo), we’re all just gonna start yapping lol. my thoughts are-

arya stark - no brainer

sansa stark - also obvious to me

samwell tarly

theon greyjoy - i Really think he would have done a tragic visaemon thing with throbb

cersei lannister - i think she would be his alicent esque “she’s a lesbian except she also wants to fuck her male relatives” thing, i think of condal had been able to go wild with asoiaf he would have done some amazing and WEIRD shit with cersei & joffrey’s relationship

brienne of tarth

jaime lannister - man Already has the bi wife energy + is constantly thinking about how amazing other men are, i think he would playing up some crazy gender performance stuff with brienne, jaime, and cersei relationships on all three legs of that triangle

oberyn martell - i know he is bi in canon but the way they write his queerness in the og series is almost cartoonishly queerphobic and i think condal would have had much more interesting things to say here

[klfoxartcommissioner]

My AU Brienne’s parents, Arenna and Selwyn Tarth. They are very similar in age, but as Arenna dies relatively young in the story, Selwyn is depicted later in his life to match how he looks during Brienne’s late adolescence and adulthood. 

Luck willing I plan to commission portraits of Jaime’s parents next. Currently in the process of commissioning my vision of Tywin Lannister, then I hope to commission my vision of Joanna Lannister. 

Both of these portraits were drawn by the amazing artist at SwordandSentinel:

https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/SwordandSentinel

[demongemz]

welcome to london, JAIME LANNISTER! did anyone ever tell you that you look just like NIKOLAJ COSTER-WALDAU? well, no matter, we hear that you are 40 and working as a SELF DEFENSE INSTRUCTOR. we also hear that you currently HAVE SOME your memories from GAME OF THRONES and have a tendency to be RESOURCEFUL as well as PRETENTIOUS.

DEMOGRAPHICS

Name: Jaime Lannister Relatives: Cersei Lannister(Twin Sister); Tyrion Lannister(Little Brother); Joffrey I Baratheon(Nephew); Myrcella Baratheon(Niece); Tommen I Baratheon(Nephew) Occupation: Self-Defense Instructor Disabilities: Robotic Right Hand Birthday: 261 AC Age: 40 Sexual Orientation: Hetrosexual Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Memory Status: Somewhat Intact

BACKGROUND

Trigger Warnings: Death Mention, Incest Mention, Mental Health, Murder Mention, Violence Ser Jaime Lannister was the elder son of Lord Tywin Lannister, the younger twin brother of Queen Cersei Lannister, and the older brother of Tyrion Lannister. To discredite the Queen and himself a rumor was started that the siblings were far to close to be anything less then involved in an incestuous relationship with the birth of Cersei's "golden" children and Jaime's doting nature on his Niece and Nephews only further flamed the rumor. During Robert's Rebellion, Jaime killed Aerys Targaryen, earning the derogatory nickname "Kingslayer." He was pardoned by Robert and allowed to serve in his Kingsguard. Following King Robert's death, he was appointed as the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to his son, Joffrey. During the War of the Five Kings, Jaime fought for his house but was captured by Robb Stark and kept prisoner. He agreed with Catelyn Stark, who decided to release him on the condition that her daughters would be safely returned to her. Jaime was paired with Brienne of Tarth, whom Catelyn tasked to bring him back to the capital. During their travel, Jaime lost his right hand and revealed the actual reasons why he murdered Aerys. Upon his return to the capital, he continued to serve as Lord Commander to Joffrey, and then to Tommen, but was dismissed from his position after a tense confrontation with the Faith Militant. He became the new Commander of the Lannister forces but left his position to help the North face the Army of the Dead. After the dead were defeated, he chose to reside by Brienne of Tarth's side, he doesn't remember anything else besides this event effectively leaving his memory altered.

[ao3feed-briennejaime]

Single Dad Dating 102

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/jX5knmu

by cardinalgirl75

Not long after getting snowed in at an airport with Brienne, Jaime takes her out on a first date.

Words: 5684, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Jaime Lannister, Brienne of Tarth, Tyrion Lannister, Renly Baratheon, Loras Tyrell, Alysanne Baratheon-Tarth, Maggy the Dog

Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Single Dad!Jaime, Single Mom!Brienne, featuring Renly and Loras as the world's worst busybodies, and a restaurant staffed by Jaime's obnoxious relatives, First Dates, good night kisses

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/jX5knmu

[averbaldumpingground]

Roadside Assistance 5/?

@albatrossisland Part 5. For anyone who cares: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4.

Of course it was fucking Brienne Tarth, because that was just the shit icing on the shit cake that had been his entire shit week. Jaime squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for what he already knew would be a fucking disaster of an evening. He couldn't remember the last time they'd even managed a vaguely civil conversation. Great. Wonderful. Terrific.

It couldn't have been anyone else, could it? Like maybe that unhinged Bolton kid that would probably wind up in prison some day, probably soon? Or one of those burly Wildling perverts? He cursed to himself as he killed the engine and struggled back into his coat.

It couldn't have possibly been anyone else. Not when he was wearing Pia's stupid, ridiculous hat that gave him unmanageable hat hair. And his ugliest Winterfest tie to piss off Tully, as was becoming his holiday tradition. And it was not like this could have happened when he'd at least shaved, or gotten a full night's sleep in something resembling recent memory. Or remembered to put on some fucking aftershave or even a wrinkle-free shirt. Jaime slammed the door closed, biting on his glove and shoving his car keys into his back pocket.

As he tried to stomp closer, his irritation at the universe somewhat impeded by the now knee-high snow on the shoulder, he could see Brienne in the driver's seat, huddled under a pile of blankets, the outermost of which had a faded, but unfortunately recognizable, Direwolves logo. Great. She didn't look hurt at least. Just cold and maybe a little panicked. Which was... less than ideal. But she was probably okay, he tried to tell himself, just barely keeping his footing on the snowed over ice as he made his way closer. The Starks hadn't called to report her as missing yet, and the windows were only just starting to fog up, so it couldn't have been that long. Maybe an hour, at most. Not great, but not life-threatening. He leaned over to tap on the glass, briefly hesitating.

There probably wasn't anything he could do for her car at this point, he figured, other than calling it in. But his truck had snow chains. And they weren't that far from his apartment, he didn't think. Maybe an hour though, in this kind of snow. His comfortable, warm apartment, where the good coffee lived. He wondered how Brienne liked her coffee, mentally kicking himself for the thought.

Jaime leaned closer, silently willing her to be okay and to maybe roll down the window.

She startled, but thankfully did just that. Her hair was just as moonlight pale as he remembered. She blinked, looking at him, hopeful for only a moment until the recognition set in. And... there it was. Jaime sucked in air through his teeth. Of course. Of fucking course.

Because women like Brienne fucking Tarth, with her stupid, unattainable blue eyes, and her stupid, judgy, perfect mouth, and her awful perpetual scowl of disdain, reserved, as it so happened, especially for him, obviously had no use for greying, old cripples who looked like fucking lumberjack zombies in light up holiday attire. Clearly. Fuck.

Edit: Part 6.

[yconic]

Honestly, the fact that Daenerys, a woman who has never lived a peaceful life even if that was all she wanted, will die in the most unsettling way, aka getting put down like a rabid dog by the last man she ever loved, is possibly the saddest thing I've witnessed in this entire show and that says something.

[hollowwhisperings]

ASOIAF Prophecies As Punchlines:

cersei lannister learns she's to be "replaced" by someone "younger and more beautiful": cersei raises myrcella to be an intelligent politician & pointedly dotes on her. myrcella ends up as queen, the younger & more beautiful heir to her mother's legacy.

cersei learns a [younger sibling] will kill her by the neck: cersei reforms her attitudes to her brothers, pointedly doting on them; cersei has 3 kids and remembers to dote on the two younger siblings of the 3; cersei, long-reconciled with her brothers & well-loved by her children, retires to a castle in the riverlands. she dies mid-journey north, pain relief provided by a maester with elder siblings, in the region of westeros named "the neck".

aegon v & his kids learn that "the prince who was promised" is to be borne of the line of his grandkids aerys & rhaella. aegon v prevents his teenaged kids, jaehaerys & shaera, from wedding their own kids to each other while underaged & unwilling. aegon v finds nice, non-relative spouses for aerys and rhaella. when they are both of age & married, not to each other, THEIR kids (cousins) are tentatively betrothed: they are princes promised to each other, prophecy fulfilled.

rhaegar asks maester aemon about this "prince who was promised" prophecy he read in a book. maester aemon patiently explains to his great-grandnephew the mysticism of Contract Law & the importance not of "who" is promised but to "WHOM" he is promised. rhaegar dutifully doublechecks his debts & debtors to make sure any kids of his don't get promised to, say, an eldritch sea god or an uncle tree-wizard.

rhaegar learns his wife, elia, cannot have another pregnancy after their 2nd child's birth. rhaegar believes he must have three children: elia reminds rhaegar that adoption is a thing & that his parents are unlikely to survive to raise his kid brother forever. rhaegar takes an intetest im the wellbeing of his mother, "adopting" viserys by making him his squire before taking his family from court to dragonstone. viserys grows up looking to his brother as a father figure, looked up to by his niece & nephew (who call him "brother"). elia & her children live, rhaegar has his "3 heads", no lords paramounts get murdered while protesting the royal kidnapping of their underage daughters.

dany learns she will have 3 great loves, equated with pyres. dany shrugs this very disturbing imagery off & goes about living her best life. on her deathbed, wrinkled & surrounded by adopted family, everyone retroactively checks off dany's prophecies to see how they ended up being fulfilled, knowing that prophecies happen regardless of personal intervention.

jaime has a dream about getting abandoned & then saved by brienne of tarth. jaime remembers tyrion describing myths of "green seers": jaime recalls his eyes are green & notices he is sitting on a tree stump. jaime resolves to ensure lady brienne has plentiful resources available to her, and thus him, & endeavors to endear himself to her (in his hour of need, brienne comes to his rescue: armed, armoured & with a medically trained maester. jaime never dies of exposure after getting lost in a snowstorm).

melissandre sees in her flames: azhor ahai reborn! melissandre starts drafting a List of interpretations alternate to "stabbing loved ones = get magic victory sword".

melissandre later reminds stannis of sexual innuendo & his being kin to 'that dragon mother girl': shireen, beloved daughter of stannis by his less-loved wife, successfully adopts daenerys into the family & gets to borrow one of her dragons to keep everyone warm for the winter. more people survive & no children are burned as hypothetical victory fuel.

[jaime-brienne-fic-exchange]

Fic Exchange Roundup: Canon (Ambiguous)

Valiant by Ealisaid for Vayalda

Runt is only a puppy when the people flee. He’s alone for a long time, until two travellers and their scraps draw his attention.

you've got (chain)mail by letters2the0 for JillPecq

Jaime loses, in no particular order: a gorget, an argument, a horse, a fight, and Selwyn of Tarth's respect for guests. (He loses his heart too, but he's okay with that.)

Protector of the Realm by greenmtwoman for captainellie

"Your brother is free to remain at Casterly Rock, and to eat his gold. We will allow him no other use for it.” “Unless?” He regarded her with a kind of wonder. She was shrewder and more implacable than he had expected. “Unless you and I are wed.” He laughed, though her face was entirely serious. “Was this Tyrion’s idea or yours?” It was a preposterous idea, and it made a preposterous kind of sense. “Call it a mutual realization of need. I need to marry for the stability of the crown. There are few candidates left. I require a consort with wealth, and I’d prefer not to wed a fool or a weakling.” “Lucky for you that I’m neither. I’m merely a monster, which is much more agreeable.”

Brat in Crown by Nenko for ZeroRepeatForever

Other men might be fathers, sons, husbands, but never Jaime Lannister, whose sword was as golden as his hair. He was a warrior, and that was all he would ever be. Or Jaime thought so until the fateful day that turned his entire world upside down. A story where the Kingslayer unexpectedly becomes a father to three golden kids.

Harrowed and Haunted by Angelic_Temptress for KayJayTeal

“Stay behind me,” she begged as more shadows moved to surround them. “You may very well be my protector, but who protects you, sweetling?” a huskier voice responded. Jaime Lannister joined her side, swinging his own steel, a glowing ruby at the end of its pommel. Her stomach fluttered, and she realized the cloak she wore was just as red. 

I’m not going anywhere by the-lightless-star (aleighcarlisle) for TeaandBanjo

A year has passed since the end of the war. A year Jaime and Brienne have spent in relative peace on Tarth. But, fearing retribution from any who may still be loyal to the Dragon Queen, Brienne dissuades Jaime from leaving the island. Believing he is needed elsewhere, Jaime leaves to travel through the Stormlands. Now he returns, uncertain if Brienne will welcome him home.

Oh So Easy, Oh So Hard by captainellie for Ealisaid

Riverrun is their beginning

[janiedean]

... please, please, PLEASE write some crack with AA!Davos. And Melisandre losing her entire mind over it ofc.

hello anon this is late and I'm in my inbox trying to catch up with prompts and you're getting something idek what but I gave it my all

--

"No," Melisandre says.

"For the first time in my life," Davos cautiously replies in the silence that has filled the room, "I would be uttermost fucking glad to agree with you."

"I don't think," Jon Snow says very, very slowly, eyes staring at the sword in Davos's hands - seven hells he never even liked using swords for that matter -, "that it's something either you or she can deny." He sounds relieved, for that matter.

"Beg your pardon, your Grace," Davos goes on, wishing he could drop the damned thing and just run and instead there's the entire Great Hall in Winterfell staring at him in various arrays of bewilderment, shock and in two specific cases relief, and one of them being his King - not Jon Snow, King in the North, but Stannis Baratheon - isn't helping any, "that's - you are the one who came back to life. Literally."

"He's certainly not the only one who has, lately," Jaime Lannister mutters from somewhere in the crowd and oh, right, they told them about Catelyn Stark having... come back to life in the Riverlands when he and Brienne of Tarth brought Sansa Stark here and a Valean army along with her good thing because they were about to lose the damned battle when they did, but then the lady obviously throws her elbow in his hip and he shuts up.

"That still - it makes no sense! How is that - I can't be, all right?"

"You did say," Stannis clears his throat, very slowly, oh please no not him, "that when you woke up on that piece of rock after Blackwater you were surrounded by smoke and you were covered in salty water and you were sure you were dead, and that was just - after your sons died in that battle, wasn't it?"

Oh, Seven bloody fucking Hells -

"That doesn't mean I died for real!"

"Well," Jon Snow's friend, fuck, what did he say his name was when he showed up here from Oldtown a few days ago - Samwell Tarly, right, "prophecies... are never exactly straight, my lord. Also, that sword is quite literally glowing. For real."

Why, Davos thinks, why did I ever hold that fucking Valyrian steel sword of Tarly's that he said he stole from his father, why would I do it, I should have kept my bloody hands to myself now -

"This is impossible," Melisandre says again, staring at Davos, then the sword, then Stannis, then Jon Snow, then at Davos all over again, "this is impossible! The Lord of Light never said it was you."

"Well, I doubt he ever said it was me either at this point," Stannis mutters still sounding relieved of it.

"I would like, again, for once, to agree with this red witch, there is no bloody way it's me, I can't - please, didn't Rhaegar Targaryen start an entire war because this supposed prince that was promised or whatever the fuck had to be his son or his relative? Sure as hell I'm not related to a bloody Targaryen now. Sorry but this is insane. King Stannis here is more related to one than I am. He," he motions towards Jon Snow, "is definitely more related to one than I am, and I doubt Lord Reed was lying when he shared that piece of information with us."

"I would not," said Lord Reed protests.

"Well, exactly," Davos goes on, "and - and the lady Brienne here is more related to one than I am if what history my princess used to talk about is true, there is no way -"

"Wouldn't be so sure," wait, was that fucking Sandor Clegane who has come from the Vale with both Lannister, Sansa Stark and Brienne of Tarth, what has he to share now -

"How exactly," Davos groans.

Clegane shrugs. "You're from Flea Bottom."

"Yes, exactly my point -"

"Targaryens were kings until the rebellion," he points out. "Who says that some of them didn't fuck around with the commoners at some point? Doubtful that anyone would go and claim that some king planted a bastard on them, but you can't know."

"You - you can't be saying that some great-grandfather of mine was a Targaryen bastard," Davos tries to protest.

"I'm saying you can't know he wasn't," Clegane shrugs, sounding entirely too gleeful about it. Why. Why would he be. He has no stakes in this. What the -

"This is not happening," he says, at the same time as Melisandre saying the exact same thing.

No one proffers a word for a moment.

Then Stannis clears his throat. "You know," he says, "I would be seriously considering that it's true just because it not being true is the one thing you two ever agreed on since you met. Maybe it's a sign."

Why is he smiling slightly? All right, he does, mostly to Davos only, as far as he's known, and he just wishes it wasn't a point that made sense, but -

Fuck.

Fuck.

If that sword wasn't feeling warm in his hand when everyone else said that it felt burning to them to the point they couldn't touch it he'd just, throw it on the ground and leave, except he can't, and -

He sighs.

"If," he says, "if this has a chance in the Seven Hells of being true, does that mean I have to do what exactly?"

"End the Long Night," Melisandre says, sounding absolutely not happy about it.

"Yes, a bit more detail maybe? That doesn't mean anything!"

"Save the world from the darkness," she goes on, gloomily.

"That still doesn't tell me how!"

"Well, the Lord of Light never was - He never specified the details, if you're it then you should know yourself," she mutters, and -

Davos is just done, all right?

"That's just - I didn't even know I - you know what, I'll just give Lord Tarly here back the sword -"

"My lord," Tarly says taking a step back, "please do keep it, it's not like I'm ever going to use it properly myself. All yours!"

"All - it's Valyrian steel!"

"And it definitely chose you to wield it, so. Really. You can absolutely keep it, my lord. No offense, my lord."

"Maybe," Jon Snow says, "we should leave Lord Davos to think about this instead of nagging him."

Davos is suddenly very thankful for the lad's existence and for the fact that the moment he speaks everyone immediately rushes out of the room.

Everyone except Stannis - Melisandre stalks out repeating that there is no way, and she'll pray some more, and so on, but at this point he's barely hearing her.

Davos lets out a breath the moment everyone else has left. "There is," he says, "no way this is me."

"Davos," Stannis replies, staring straight at him, "let me just say it once."

"... What?"

"That I never wanted to be that and I never thought it could be me, and knowing it's not me is relieving, but - but I couldn't have imagined anyone more suited than you."

"Your Grace, I'm -"

"Maybe," he smiles a tiny bit wider, "I didn't have it wrong when I thought making new lords was a good idea."

"I -"

"Davos, honestly, to everyone at Storm's End... you could have been that. Maybe it was just destiny that it would have to be you."

"And I have no idea of how I would be supposed to do it," Davos sighs, relenting, letting the sword's tip fall on the ground. He has a feeling he cannot exactly... say no now. Not when he's being stared at like... like he was stared at the day he showed up at Storm's End with a ship full of onions and salted fish.

"Why, do you think she told me how I was supposed to do it?"

"... I imagine she didn't."

"Absolutely not. And not like I... believe that this Lord of Light exists, but if whatever is out there chose you then I still don't think it was wrong."

"Now His Grace is flattering me."

"I don't really think I am," he replies, and Davos can't help smiling back even if he doesn't feel like there is anything to be happy about.

Well.

He supposes he'll find out how in the Seven Hells he's going to stop the Long Night when it's time to. For now he lets himself smile back and when Stannis's hand cautiously grasps his elbow he feels warm for it, and -

It could be worse, he thinks.

Much worse.

But he still thinks this entire matter makes no bloody sense at all.

[ddagent]

Immortal JB christmas shopping

Thank you for the prompt, Anon! Just a reminder for my wonderful readers: I am currently accepting general *and* festive JB prompts! 

Jaime Lannister had survived many things. He had served under the Mad King. He had survived imprisonment in the Stark camp. He had fought the army of the dead. And yet Jaime Lannister, one of the greatest knights in history, was not sure he could survive this next battle. 

A shopping centre four weeks before Sevenmas. 

Staring in horror at the throng of people, Jaime turned to his wife. “You remember we’re rich, yes? We can pay people to do this for us.” 

“I’m not paying a stranger to buy our family’s Sevenmas gifts, Jaime,” Brienne of Tarth chided, before slipping her hand into her husband’s. “It’ll be fine.” 

Jaime highly doubted that. Yet, as he had for the last six hundred years, he followed his wife into battle. 

The Street of Steel Shopping Centre was packed with shoppers. Families wanting this season’s must-have toy. Husbands and wives searching for that perfect gift. Tired and overworked citizens looking desperately for a last-minute present for that relative they really didn’t like but felt obligated to buy for. In that regard, he and Brienne were lucky. Brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles: they had all died centuries ago. They had a multitude of descendants, of course. And the Lannister coffers had enough gold to buy them Sevenmas presents ten times over. 

But at Sevenmas, there was, quite fittingly, only seven of them. 

“Dad!” 

His daughter’s voice called over the throng. Jaime remembered when the Young Lion of Casterly Rock could yell over an entire melee. Now it was holiday shoppers that she pushed past and into his arms. He held Cat tight; brushing a hand through familiar blonde hair. Eyes that never changed; freckles that never faded. Her younger brother was the same. Not all of her siblings were. Pushing down that familiar ache, Jaime turned to Cat’s shopping companion. 

“Hello, Gerion,” he greeted, wrapping his grandson up in another embrace. They were of the same age, now; passers-by would assume they were brothers, old friends, rather than grandfather and grandson. “I see you got talked into coming.” 

“Can’t say no to Nanna.” Gerion reached up and kissed Brienne on the cheek. “Plus I’m a little behind on my holiday shopping. What is Joanna even into these days?” 

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Queen dolls.”

Jaime, Gerion and Catelyn all turned to Brienne. “What the fuck is a Queen doll?” 

As it turned out, a Queen doll was a fashion doll loosely based on the old Queens of Westeros. There was a cartoon that aired on some streaming site; the toy shops were rammed with carriages and horses and stationery sets so you can write just like a Queen would. Jaime stared at the brightly coloured boxes featuring plastic dolls with wide eyes and repressed the shiver than ran through him. 

“Fuck.”

There was Queen Rose, in a green and gold dress. There was a comb to brush her dark hair, and a mirror so she could stare at her pretty features. Then there was Queen Snow, with a pet direwolf and a grey dress trimmed with fur. Cat picked that box from the shelf and smiled; no doubt thinking of a different queen and the hours she had spent running through the halls of Winterfell. Of course, there was a Queen Amber: she had a pet dragon and was dressed for a summer that would never end. 

Jaime swallowed as he plucked one of the boxes from the shelf. “Queen Scarlet.” 

“What does she come with?” Cat asked, staring at the box in his hands. 

“Regret and wildfire.” He placed the box back on the shelf. The doll’s golden features mocked him; her lion necklace and bottle-green eyes setting his teeth on edge. “This is utterly ridiculous. I remember when you were a child. You were happy with a wooden sword and a straw doll.” 

Cat snorted. “As I recall, I wasn’t entirely happy with the wooden sword.” 

“No, you were desperate to have a real one as soon as you could hold it.” Jaime huffed. “Swords, I understand. Even dolls, I understand. These...some days, Cat, I just feel very old.” 

“It’s been a while since you’ve had a child.” 

The last had been Gal. Jaime instinctively turned to Brienne, hoping she hadn’t heard. But she was lost in conversation with Gerion, the two of them buying as many dolls and accessories as they could carry. And who could blame her? It had been two hundred years since they had last had a child. While Cat and Brynden had lived on, their others had not. Joanna was eight now. Soon she would grow old, and these dolls would be just a memory. 

Jaime picked up the Queen Scarlet box once again. “If this is what Joanna wants, it’ll be what Joanna gets.” He caught his wife’s attention. “We’re rich, my love. Let’s get it all.” 

In the end, they did get it all. Queen Rose and Snow and Amber and Scarlet. They got the princes they came with (Jaime ridiculously glad that Scarlet’s prince was not her golden twin). They bought carriages and horses and castles. They bought stationery and backpacks and princess dresses. Most would be gifts from Brienne and Jaime. But the others would pen their names to tags, too. Cat purchased a knight doll for her younger sister to play with. Brynden was put down for a boat the Queens could sail upon. Gerion bought his young auntie a whole heap of gowns fit for tiny plastic princesses. Over the immortal group chat, Brienne confirmed who was getting what. 

To no one’s surprise, Queen Snow was gifted by their oldest friend. 

After they had purchased half the store, Cat and Gerion went on to complete the rest of their Sevenmas shopping. Jaime and Brienne, however, holed up at the Good Knight Grind. They sat, sipping their coffee, as the world went by. 

“Do you remember all their first Sevenmas’?” Brienne asked as a family went past, no doubt on their way to grab a photo with the Great Giant. 

Jaime thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No. Not all of them. I remember the good ones. Cat’s first wooden sword. That huge dollhouse your father made for Alys.” 

“Gal’s sailboat.” 

He squeezed his wife’s hand. “Do you remember our first real winter after the Long Night?”

Brienne barked out a laugh. “We jumped at every sound. Cat and Wynnie thought us mad.”

“I miss them.” Jaime held Brienne’s hand even tighter. “This time of year, it’s hard not to miss them all. Tyrion would have loved all this. The gadgets; being able to read a thousand books on a single device. He’d have loved dating apps, too.” 

“My father would have been obsessed with true crime podcasts.” Jaime laughed. “He would have been messaging me recommendations; every day it would have been something new.” 

They shared a smile. Jaime took a sip of his coffee. “I think we should invite them all this year. Not just our family but the others, too.” 

Brienne snorted. “Even Hunt?”

“Maybe not him.” 

Like they had spent many afternoons over the past few centuries, Jaime and Brienne watched the world go by. Cat and Gerion came intermittently to drop off bags of presents; their daughter and grandson sharing stories of the battles they had faced getting the last item on the shelf. Sometimes, Jaime Lannister felt incredibly old. But there was always something new. And as long as he had Brienne beside him, he could face anything. 

[dreadwulf]

Love is a Burning Thing

(part 1) (part 2)

He is riding away from her. Farther and farther away.

Jaime is riding at the head of his battalion across the Crownlands. Glory trots along quite amiably, at pace with hundreds of other horses around him. Without his needing to move a muscle, at every moment Brienne is farther away. He can feel the distance stretching between them like she is still holding onto him somehow and pulling with all her might, ever since she had left him this morning.

It hurts. Like a steadily increasing stomachache, only it’s some other organ down there in his gut. If there is a structure in the body that secretes devotion like eyes spill tears, it is surely there, somewhere in his belly, and it is contracting violently, whispering at him to turn around and go back. But his gut is perpetually wrong, and cannot be trusted. This is exactly what he wants, to be getting away from Brienne as fast as he can. If it hurts, well, Jaime is quite accustomed to being hurt by the things he wants.

They ride for King’s Landing, and the ache simmers inside him like a low fire. But there is enough else to occupy his mind, and surely it will fade into the background, unimportant, beside the urgency of a Targaryen invasion.

His squire is watching him worriedly from his palfrey nearby, and Jaime straightens under the young man’s scrutiny. Smiles back at him until his squire grins cautiously back, and spurs his horse to ride over to the flanks. There, that’s more like it. Lord Lannister is no lovesick boy pining after some maiden. He made a foolish mistake, but fortunately it has cost him little. A few days away from his post, some chagrin before his men, and this wretched ache in his gut. That is nothing he can’t recover from.

His squire is riding, he notes, much more smoothly than he did when last they rode the Kingsroad, leaving the capital. He has grown tremendously in these months. Just as he had told Brienne, he will have to knight him sometime soon, Peck. Else some other knight will do it, and deny him the honor. He has been a good squire, and Jaime will regret losing him. 

Does he hope for it? Jaime wonders. At his age I thirsted for battle, and if there are truly Targaryens on the march there will be some promise of glory. If he knights him today, Peck will have to fight for his King. He will probably have to fight either way, but as a squire he will keep to the periphery, and a knight will be expected to charge on horseback, into the thick of the fighting. But Peck has not shown any remarkable talent at swordplay, not as Jaime had when Ser Arthur Dayne had knighted him. Not that, not yet. Let him squire a little bit longer.

His eyes drift to the wagon where the sons of the Riverlands are riding, where until this morning Podrick Peck had sat chattering and playing at dice with the other boys. What will he do with the hostages when they ride to battle? They could squire for his men. But if he loses any of them in battle, he will lose the cooperation of their parents as well.

I think Peck was sorry to see young Podrick go, Jaime thinks. His squire had taken the smaller boy under his wing, and the younger Payne had looked up to him with the kind of hero worship reserved by young boys for older, not-quite-grown boys. Peck enjoyed that attention, clearly. Podrick had a starry-eyed eagerness that his squire would be just outgrowing. An innocence. 

Jaime had spoken with the child as well, the night they had caught him sneaking into the camp. A scared and reticent boy to begin with, with a fearful glaze and a pronounced stammer that made one wonder if he had lost his wits. But with only a little encouragement, he had turned into a fair chatterbox. He had been startled to learn that the boy had squired for his brother Tyrion during the battle of the Blackwater; it had been he that saved his life, though not his nose. Timid he may be, but the young squire does not lack for bravery. It seems he had left King’s Landing looking for Tyrion, and followed the Maid of Tarth in hopes that her quest would lead him there. His brother had been good to him, Podrick said. 

As not many people have been, I’ll wager. Cast-off of a cast-off of House Payne, small for his age, and guileless as a newborn. 

Jaime had offered the boy a berth in his army. He could squire for Jaime’s cousin Addam Marbrand, or at least apprentice to someone in his camp, earn his keep. He would not be a hostage like the Riverlands’ noble sons, but he could still run about and play with them, as he seems to enjoy doing. I suspect the boy has not done much of that either, he notes.

Pod refused his offer, however. He said, with some hesitation, that he hopes Lord Tyrion is well, and thanks Ser Jamie for the kind offer, but he would rather stay with Lady Brienne, wherever she will be. He has a fair cavalcade of praise for the lady, which Jaime endures without comment. All in all, he seems a good lad. Loyal. From what little he saw, they are quite tightly bonded, the boy and his lady knight.

He ought to feel better knowing that. If he was to be sacrificed for another, at least the other was a good-hearted and clearly beloved child. It could have been Lem Lemoncloak. 

It does not make him feel any better.

He had gritted his teeth to look upon the boy, to be honest. Can one be jealous of a child? But Podrick very obviously had his lady’s love, and Jaime does not.

He has only just learned how much the wench meant to him, and how comparatively little he had meant to her in return. For her, at a moment’s notice, he had thrown over his family, his house, his responsibilities, to follow her into the Riverlands on the flimsiest of excuses, all because he thought she needed his help. It had been startlingly easy to do it, and as he walked away from his life he had felt lighter and merrier with every step.

What a fool he had been. As it turns out, she would not do the same for him - no, he was no more than a hostage himself, intended to free the companions she valued more. This boy, and that Hunt fellow, a hedge knight of some sort, who awaited them at the Dread Lady’s Gallows. Brienne had risked a great deal to come and find him, but the risk had not been for his sake. 

But no matter. She is gone now and he will not see her again. He will return to his life and go about forgetting her. That should make these feelings stop. It will have to end sometime, the crawling betrayal, the creeping shame, the sharp sting of rejection, and that time will come much sooner without the constant reminder of her presence. With time he will stop thinking of her, and it will be like he had never met that stubborn, ugly beast of a woman.

This is not making him feel any better either. Cheer up, he tells himself, tomorrow you may die. 

The Targaryen pretender has already taken Storm’s End in a rout. This “Aegon” has a band of supporters and a hired troop of mercenaries, the Golden Company, and at last word was riding out to face Mace Tyrell and the Crown forces. Of course it isn’t Aegon Targaryen - Jaime knows all too well the babe was slaughtered, skull crushed against the wall by his father’s creature The Mountain - but he looks the part, with the Targaryen hair and eyes. Perhaps he is some unknown cousin, some lost branch of the Targaryen family tree using Aegon’s name. Should Westeros be nostalgic for the relative peace of Targaryen rule, they might find the young man very persuasive.

He turns the details over and again in his mind. The Golden Company, a fearful force, and Targaryen banners stirring the populace to rebellion. They could be marching into a battle they cannot hope to win. Impossible to tell from the increasingly vehement missives he has received from the Queen Regent. She commands him to victory, but does she truly expect it? As has been amply demonstrated to him recently, he cannot expect even his closest allies to place much value on his safety. After all, what does anyone care if the Kingslayer should die?

My sweet sister would summon me regardless. She has shown that often enough. As coin she would spend me on a hopeless trial by combat merely to flaunt her purse. No doubt my beheading at the gates of King’s Landing would be just as gloriously pointless. 

Though Cersei, it seems, wants him only to return to her side directly, to serve as her personal bodyguard. She is grown obsessed with some prophecy that the children will all be murdered and her choked to death at Tyrion’s hands. Hearing that Tyrion himself is approaching the city has sent her into a kind of frenzy. Her last letter was nearly incomprehensible, raving. 

Yes, that had been the last bit of news the Spider had passed along, with the rest of his whispers: his own brother Tyrion rides with Aegon, and advises the Targaryen pretender how best to defeat their House in battle. That was the lowest blow, and it had knocked his usual confidence right out of him. Jaime does not fear battle, but he dreads this confrontation.

If one side wins, his sister and son are dethroned and probably executed. If the other side wins, he will have to kill his brother. Jaime loses either way.

He should not worry about defeat. The Crown forces are superior, the Lannister army vast and well-provisioned, and King’s Landing is by design a difficult city to take. But his brother is fearsomely clever, and he was Hand. He defended King’s Landing against Stannis Baratheon, and a man who knows how to hold the city will know how to take it. If he does, he will have his revenge for a lifetime of slights. He knows Tyrion holds it against him still, the lie he had told him about Tysha. After all the years they had been beloved brothers, after Jaime had set him free and saved his life, his little brother saw fit not only to murder their father but to conspire with their enemies to contest Cersei directly for the throne. He does not expect Tyrion will pull any punches now for old time’s sake. Not when they will face each other across a battlefield.

If there is anyone left who has not yet stuck a knife in my heart, they are running out of time to do it. 

He mulls over such thoughts feverishly as the dimming winter sun lowers in the sky. For a time he considers pressing the Lannister troops onward into the night to reach King’s Landing. It will be only a few hours march from here, and their summons have been increasingly urgent. Still, he would rather rest his men so that they can arrive fresh to the fighting and not exhausted from the road, and he commands them to set camp.

“Milord,” a lieutenant interrupts him tentatively as he unhorses, “we have Thoros of Myr bound in your tent as you requested, awaiting interrogation.”

Jaime smiles thinly. They have captured Beric Dondarrion’s Red Priest, who had somehow turned Catelyn Stark into the apparition who had lead the Brotherhood without Banners to capture him. Somehow during the conflagration with the Brotherhood he had run away and vanished into the trees. But Jaime’s scouts found him in the night, Thoros, stoking a meagre fire near Maidenpool. There was no time to deal with him in the morning, so they bundled him up and brought him along on the march - though they gave him no horse, and forced him to walk along tied to one of the wagons, thinking it would make him more cooperative. 

The Lord Commander’s tent is first to rise, and resplendent before ever he sets eyes on it, not that he notices. He leaves Peck to unsaddle his horse and enters it in full uniform. He will get through this interrogation before undressing and taking his supper.

He sits in the armchair they have carried across the Riverlands for him, and accepts a glass of sherry. The muddy priest is bound on the floor before his desk, and at his command his bonds are loosened, and he is allowed to sit in a wooden chair before his desk. Jaime observes all of this as he finishes the first glass of sherry, and requests another.

Once a huge man, both tall and fat, Thoros of Myr is now considerably diminished. His red robes are cavernous around him, his skin hanging loosely off his skeleton in great folds. Formerly a fierce swordsman, the fire that he once brandished by burning swords has seemingly gone out. The old Thoros could wear this one like a cloak. 

Even before Jaime can begin to question him, the Red Priest is firing questions back. First among them, “What have you done with the girl?”

“Which girl?” he stalls, disconcerted. 

“The maiden with your blade.” He may be physically smaller but his eyes are bright and sharp, and he holds Jaime’s gaze without flinching. The priest explains patiently, “the tall young woman with the king’s seal, she who brought you to the Brotherhood. I saw you strike her down. Where is she now?”

Jaime ignores this questioning; it is none of the man’s concern. Instead he asks him of his escape from the ambush that night, which quiets him a bit. He could have fought them, could have produced a flaming sword and defended his Lady Stoneheart, but instead he had fled. Thoros does not seem to be interested in explaining why, averting his eyes and answering  him shortly with “yes” and “no”.

He questions the Red Priest about Catelyn Stark, about Berric Dondarrion, about remaining members of the brotherhood and the commonfolk who supported them. Still Thoros turns the conversation back and back again to Brienne.

“But what of the Maid of Tarth? I saw her nowhere in your formation, amongst prisoners or soldiers.” He pokes and prods, Thoros, and his brow furrows with concern. “It has not gone unnoticed that she is gone. Some here have it that you have done away with her.”

His patience at an end, Jaime snaps back, “And what if I have?”

Thoros puts on a perplexed expression, blinking at him curiously. “That cannot be. Surely even you are not so cruel as that.”

“Surely I am, ask anyone in the Seven Kingdoms.” Thoroughly tired of judgement, he decides to go along with the Red Priest’s poor opinion of him, if it will loosen his tongue. “The wench lured me to my barely-averted death. I am well within my rights to punish traitors such as she.”

“Brienne of Tarth never betrayed you for a moment.” The Red Priest is disturbed, shaking his head sadly. “That poor, brave girl. She defended you to a crowd baying for your blood, said that you were a changed man, that you were not responsible for your reported crimes. We called her your whore. But you never touched her, did you? Wouldn’t trouble yourself with someone so pure of heart, when you have your sister the Queen in your bed.”

Ah, so Thoros still has a sense of humor after all. Jaime snorts. “So pure of heart she would lead me to my death, while calling me friend. How is that not a betrayal?”

“She was forced to it. Our dread lady commanded her to kill you and she refused. The entire Brotherhood demanded it and she refused. We offered her a choice, the sword or the noose.”

“And she choose the sword to save her own skin.” Jaime swallows from the glass. “I understand it, of course. It is a hard lesson for one such as her. No one is pure.”

“No!” Thoros smacks the palm of his hand against the commander’s table, and Jaime cannot help flinching. “She chose the noose. Brienne said she would not betray you and they put a rope around her neck and hung her, hung her choking and kicking from a tree. She would have died there without relenting but for Podrick Payne, the boy.”

No. No, it isn’t true, he tells himself. But it tracks with what the boy had told him. She did it for me, my lord, you have to understand… He had assumed the choice had been a simple one. Podrick or Kingslayer. But had there been another choice as well? Hadn’t he seen the angry red marks around her neck, or decided not to see?

“They hung him from the tree next to her, and when she saw him dying, she called for a sword. Not before. Not for herself. She would have died for you.”

“Lies.” Jaime has gone very still. Only the muscles of his hand flex, where he holds tightly onto the drinking glass. “The Brotherhood’s Red Priest. Why should I believe anything you say?”

The priest raises his hands, palms beckoning to the air. “What reason have I to lie about this? What benefit to me? I care no more for factions or grudges. I have seen war render this land a hell beyond anything my lord R’hllor or any the Seven could dream up. So far as I care whoever is left standing at its end is welcome to its rotten fruit. All that matters is that in the ruins of honor and justice I met a maid who embodied both, and now she is dead. That, my lord, is a calamity, and I would have you know just how great of one.”

He hardens his heart. “In this world you are either faithless or dead. She is both, and soon enough we will be too. It’s no calamity.”

“You utter fool.” The Red Priest has the nerve to look sorry for him. “Let me tell you: when we found that girl she was dying of fever, battered and broken by brigands, and all she would do is talk about Jaime Lannister. She said your name in her sleep. She said she had to find your honor. She pleaded for you to come for her when she was next to dead. Not her companions, or her kin. Only you. No sword could have been more loyal to you, and no woman more true to anyone.  

Jaime’s guts are churning now, his heart clenching painfully enough to turn him inside-out. What a stupid organ, the heart. If he could, he would carve it out himself. 

It makes him snap back at Thoros tightly, “Gold will buy loyalty as reliably, and a woman too.”

“Not like her, not to you. You are only too cynical or too stupid to see it. That girl loved you. She loved you.”

The glass in Jaime’s left hand abruptly shatters.

Thoros jerks back, more at the noise of it than anything else, and stares down wide-eyed at the Lord Commander’s desk. His hand had squeezed and squeezed the glass until it finally popped, in a small explosion of shards and blood. Now his hand opens and stretches, and the Lord Commander examines it curiously. A few jagged bits of glass stick out of his palm and fingers. It hardly hurts at all, but it produces an impressive amount of blood.

Lannister guards burst into the tent at the sound of breaking glass, and the sight of blood makes them draw their swords. Jaime waves them back. “My golden hand holds drinking glasses not so well as I’d hoped. Stay at your post.”

“My lord…” Thoros, distinctly alarmed at his lack of reaction, darts his eyes between the bleeding hand and Jaime’s impassive face. “Your hand…”

“It’s nothing.” For a second he moves to pluck the glass bits out of his hand, but his other hand is made of gold. Not much good for that. He can only poke at the bloody shards with a strange fascination. His guards watch warily, not leaving but keeping their distance. 

“You know I am a healer. Allow me.” 

He shouldn’t allow it, and his guards are visibly appalled, but Jaime makes no move to stop him when Thoros kneels at his side. He moves aside the golden hand, taking his flesh hand and extracting shards of glass with careful attention.

“I can’t imagine why,” the priest murmurs, “but Brienne thought very highly of you. I owe her some kindness, for what we did to her. If she is gone, you will have to do.”

Then it comes again; the pain. Worse than ever. Jaime bows his face to the floor at the weight of it.

“I let her go,” he manages to say, hoarsely. “I gave her the sword and I let her go. Her and the boy.”

“Truly?” Thoros looks up at him dumbfounded, uncertain whether this could be another of his jests.

But of course he let her go. What else could he do? He couldn’t keep her prisoner forever.

He sees it now, too late. Brienne in the cell, wasting away. The tears she had shed when he denied her Oathkeeper. How she had hesitated so inexplicably when he allowed her to leave. The way she had looked on him, as though she would accept any punishment he would give her. He had thought it was her simple goodness that made her contrite. But it could have been more. It could be true; somehow, she had loved him. 

When he could not bring himself to harm her, he thought it his own weakness that stayed his hand. Perhaps they share the same weakness.

He jumps up from his chair with that thought, snatching his one working hand back from the damned Red Priest and sweeping out of his commander’s tent. He strides rapidly to the stables and grabs the bridle of the first horse he sees. Honor, not yet unsaddled from their ride. 

Jaime rides hard against the twilight, back down the trail they’d come. Back to the place where he’d left her. It was a day’s ride back as an encampment, but a single man riding as fast as his horse is able made the distance in a few hours.

She won’t be there. She could have gone in any direction with a day’s advance. But if she stopped there. If she stayed to rest, and to think out her next move. If she waited there. If she waited for me. 

He urges Honor to run faster at the thought.

The Riverlands rush by headlong and the pounding hooves drive every thought from his head until he is pure instinct, animal-simple: find her.

The clearing is empty when he arrives, and quiet. 

Jaime slings down from his horse looking around him wildly. It’s dark. There’s no sign of anything. No fire, no trail, no sign she had been there at all except that he knows this is where he had left her. He knows that in his bones. He will never be able to forget this place. 

He walks aimlessly in one direction and then another. Which way would she have gone? East is Maidenpool, closest of anything, where she might find Tully allies. Riverrun in the other direction, a farther walk but where she might potentially find a ship, go back to Tarth. Or would she have headed singlemindedly North, towards the Vale, without even stopping to supply herself?

He takes not much time to decide. He thinks Maidenpool, then North. Climbing back onto Honor he rides East, alert for any campfires or single riders,scouring the forest hour after hour, and shouting out her name until his voice is nearly gone. 

He reaches Maidenpool with the dawn and sees no sign of her there. 

In a haze of desperation he accosts passers-by, one after another. Have you seen a maid pass this way, with a sword and a young boy? Riding a chestnut horse?

They all say no. They step back from him like he has gone mad; but of course it sounds a bit mad, doesn’t it? A lady knight with a Valyrian steel sword, as big as The Hound, with her own squire. While he’s at it, he should ask after Galladon of Morne, and mermaids, and the Crone with her lantern. But perhaps it is the stench of a cursed man they respond to, a man who has held riches and lost them. Such ill fortune is catching. They give him a wide berth, they murmur, they leave him standing in the street lost and alone. Perhaps they do not know a Kingslayer when they see one, but anyone can spot a man laid low by love.

Have you seen a woman, an absurdly large woman? With the bluest eyes you’re ever seen? A woman with a sword - a broadsword, two-handed? Looks like she knows how to swing it? Have you seen her? Big and strong as an ox but pure as a maiden? Straw-blonde, a hand taller than me, shoulders as broad as a barn. Has no one seen her? A knight? A true knight? The truest knight that ever walked this land? Tell me where she’s gone. Please, tell me if you’ve seen her. I saw her and I sent her away. She loved me, and I let her go.

******************************************************

The sun is marking mid-morning by the time he returns, and there are dark clouds looming in the distance, swirling up from the horizon.

He has hardly left the saddle before he is accosted by a barrage of debriefs and dreadful news. 

King’s Landing is burning. Aegon’s forces arrived faster than anyone predicted, are thoroughly breaking Mace Tyrell’s formation, and their secondary forces sneaking up the bay have set Flea Bottom afire. The Goldcloaks have surrendered already, and the Red Keep will soon be under siege. Even if they ride full-tilt for the capital it will be a rescue mission now, not a defense.

“Ready us to ride directly to battle in an hour,” he instructs his captains. “Leave the camp set here, and I set my cousin Addam in command. Peck, you and your lady Pia will stay behind with the hostages and the provisions. If we face defeat see that they are returned to their homes - quickly as you can, the Kingsroad will be dragon territory before long.”

His squire’s face turns quite red and he looks ready to argue with him, and Jaime quickly turns his back to him. He hears the lad sputtering behind him as he throws the tent flap aside and goes into his Commander’s Tent. 

Jaime sits alone in his tent for that hour and he burns. He feels the flames of wildfire in King’s Landing, hears the screeching laughter of Aerys Targaryen getting his fiery baptism at last. His most sacred oath is to guard his King, and his King is in mortal danger and he is not there. He left Tommen unprotected. Left his sister, his son, his duty. His doom awaits him there, is waiting for him still. He must go.

All around him his men are making ready for battle. He knows, with a dreadful foresight, that it is not a battle they can win. It will be glorious, and at the end of it he will be dead and he will never see Brienne again.

Brienne. Brienne. His heart blazes in his chest. 

He should have kept her with him. He should have let her tell her tale. His stupid pride would not allow it and now she is gone.

Where is she now? Sheltering in some rain-soaked forest? Hiding in some Tully supporter’s house in Pennytree? Could she have seen him foolishly asking after her, and held her tongue?

He has been cruel to her. He has let her suffer. He denied her Oathkeeper. He had been badly wounded, his pride wounded, his poor sore heart wounded, and he had wanted to hurt her too. When he saw her tears some sleeping part of him wanted to take it back.  He felt monstrous for doing it, and told himself it was because he was a monster. He had stood there and watched her with her shoulders hunched and fists balled at her sides, tears running down her face. What might she have done if he had tried to soothe her tears? He could have been kinder.

Now she will remember him as bitter and petty and hateful when he is gone, and there will be no one left in the world who thinks on him fondly. 

But at least she will not see this battle; at least he gave her Oathkeeper to keep herself safe. She will have to think on him when she wields the sword, and perhaps she will remember whatever it was that had made her care for him. Perhaps she will know, when she holds the blade, that he had loved her too.

Mother, let her know it for certain. Give her my love.

When the hour is up, he leaves his tent, mounts Glory, and rides to battle. 

[swordmaid]

You know if Brienne is related to the Targaryens through Daella or Rhae, her great-great grandmother would be a Dayne, a member of the family who has the Sword of the Morning and the cost of arms featuring a sword and a shooting star.

Also the Dayne coat of arms is purple, which is just red or pink mixed with Blue (Tarth’s coat of arms). I would imagine this might be read to foreshadow Brienne merging both being a Lady (in all senses of the term), a Knight, a mythical hero by as you said in another ask/answer by “bring[ing]...her knightly values into the political landscape” just as she brought many values of Ladyship and Femininity (TM)— compassion, maternal instincts, patience, empathy—into the Knighthood sphere already.

Like the great Marge Simpson, I just think it’s neat that GRRM has intentionally, unintentionally, and theoretically layered all this symbolism involving astronomy and gender roles into Brienne’s story from her association with bears & lions to her confirmed & probable ancestry to Tarth’s sigil & political title. It’s also cool that the moon and sun are usually gendered constructs in mythologies, but which gender the sun and moon depends on the culture.

In Norse and Japanese traditions, the sun is a woman and the moon a man. While in Greek and Aztec ones, the genders switched. So knowing global mythology, it is interesting to see that blurring of and difference in gender and gender roles reflected in Brienne’s character. It’s also interesting to note that Eos, the goddess of the dawn—a period arguably caught between moon and sun—is a woman.

And Astraea—a virgin goddess of innocence, the stars and justice—ascended to the Stars because humanity became too lawless. She plans to return to usher in a new golden age of justice. Because of all this symbolism, it would be fun if Jaime and Brienne end up with 7 daughters both as a shout out to the Seven Sisters Star cluster and that lion prides are mostly female relatives.

To my knowledge, dragons aren’t connected to the heavens. That said, you could say dragons are ‘lightbringers’ because of their fire breath. While and Martin is mostly working out of a western storytelling tradition, dragons are considered rain and aquatic deities and forces in Chinese and Japanese traditions. That could work for Brienne since she is associated with light and water. Anyway, I am now really digging the concept of a Melusine AU

It’s also interesting to consider how lion symbolism coincides with the Lannister siblings. In alchemy, the lion in general seems to symbolize enlightenment, ascension, the keeper of alchemical secrets (I read this on a website so I am not sure how accurate it is) while the red lion symbolizes the final stage of making the philosophers’ stone. This emphasis on wisdom fits Tyrion really well. In Jungian psychology, the lion represents the dangers of being devoured by unconscious desires and

and passions, the Egyptian lion-headed goddess Sekhmet has a blood-lust, and the alchemical green lion eating the sun can represent the consciousness being overcome by violent and frustrated desires, which is very Cersei. For Jaime, the lion means military might, strength, and justice. The Strength Tarot card is usually represented by a woman gently opening a lion’s jaw, representing the strength of compassion & gentleness overcoming physical strength, paralleling Jaime’s journey towards

paralleling Jaime’s journey towards finding new ways to be strong after his maiming and reclaiming his knightly ideals. And the lion’s association with the sun, the moon, and the liminal space between day and night connect him with Brienne’s astronomical symbolism as well as her journey regarding how to be ethical in a world where the lines between lawful and unethical are often blurred.

For all three, the lion represents the “subterranean sun” (gold), pride, royalty, and the dangers of power corrupting when ethical and moral values are missing. I think all three siblings’ stories are connected to leadership and ethics in different ways, which fits into GRRM’s statement about ASOIAF being about Aragorn’s tax policies.

dont have anything else to add to this but wow what’s it like having a big brain. but these are all so interesting to think about though! brienne’s great grandmother being rhae or daella and her having an association with arthur dayne would ALSO be another link to her with the ‘true knights’, and adds more heroic imagery to her character as well as really build up the ‘born for greatness’ trope that i think her character has. and i do agree i dont know if it’s intentional or not but i really like how germ has implemented the duality of her character through the visual and symbolic cues that’s surrounding her. it’s a really Neat way to character build.

[lodessa]

Your WIP list is great! Tell me more about ASOIAF JonC/Davos Jaime/Brienne Sansa/Aegon please!

This fic started out because I was scanning through AFFC and realized that the Golden Company had taken Tarth (I think it is mentioned in a Cersei chapter) for Aegon.

So I had this idea that Jaime and Brienne find Sansa and they have the brilliant idea to take her to Tarth where no one will think to look for her (or Jaime) and they can wait out the war and see where the chips fall.  But they show up and discover that Tarth is occupied and Jaime is far too recognizable to not be spotted (though Sansa’s Alayne disguise holds with the regular mercenaries) and they are all dragged off to Griffin’s Roost because obviously JonC and Aegon are going to want the Kingslayer. JonC, who has spent the last decade and a half hiding Aegon with hair dye, sees right past Sansa’s disguise when they arrive.

Meanwhile, Davos has fled from the North with Shireen, rescuing her from the clutches of Melisandre/her show fate, only to have one of the storms Cape Wrath is so famous for land him at JonC and Aegon’s feet.  The Baratheons, Lannisters, and Starks are all in the clutches of Aegon and he is going to have to decide the kind of king he is going to be now that they are in in his power.

Davos Seaworth/Jon Connington

”a fool who loved his king too much” / “ I rose too high, loved too hard, dared too much. I tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell”

There’s also the matter of JonC’s greyscale infected finger(s) he knows he should cut off but has been procrastinating about and the fingers that Stannis took from Davos and Davos’ untraditional feelings about that.  

These two men, stewards of the men they served, loved, and lost’s children, have a lot of common ground to find.

(and a really intimate, brutal, tender, and strangely erotic scene where JonC asks Davos to do what he cannot bring himself to)

Sansa Stark / Aegon Targaryen

Sansa isn’t the same naive girl she was when she was promised a golden prince, but that actually makes her the right queen for a silver king who definitely has not learned the political lessons she now has.

They have the chance to get right what their parents (and other assorted relatives) royally screwed up.  

Jaime Lannister / Brienne of Tarth

Broken vows and impossible failed promises.  Jaime finally gets the chance to be “tried” for the crime he has had hanging over him since the rebellion and how can the Targaryen regime not punish him? At the same time how hand Hand JonC not also be the person best posed to understand just how mad and toxic Aerys was, Aerys who banished him, kept him from being there for his silver prince in his time of need.  Brienne, faced with the specter of Red Ronnet (who she doesn’t know Jaime smacked over her honor).  Brienne who tried so hard to keep Sansa safe and delivered her into the dragon’s den. 

When you face death, you can’t lie about the truth of your feelings any longer.

.  

[ajoblotofjunk]

🎵

Your song is Gabby Barrett’s “Write It On My Heart”!

When you meet somebody and you just know How the next hundred years are gonna go

Brienne Tarth did not believe in love at first sight. No matter that it seemed like it had become a thing in the last decade, she didn’t buy it. The first few reports started on those fake talk shows where men found out who was the real baby daddy and women discovered their husband was cheating with their best friend. I Found My Soulmate! was a brief, wildly popular delusion of people who claimed they’d just spotted each other from across a room and fallen instantly, helplessly in love.

Fallen in lust was more like it. There had been a rash of them for a year and then a psychologist had written a book giving them credence and then mass hysteria spread through Westeros, people all over supposedly finding their soulmates. Even married people were reporting they just “couldn’t help themselves” and divorces spiked. People started to be nervous about meeting new people, soulmate-specific dating services got stood up, experiments were run, the whole world went momentarily crazy for soulmates.

In the ten years since, the initial wave had calmed down, though there were still people reporting it had happened. Not as many - and many of the originals had been disproven. But there were still the so-called “lucky few” that claimed that they felt it. Even some between relatives, which got very sketchy very quickly. Brienne knew one such couple like that: the Lannister cousins, Jaime and Cersei. She knew them, because Jaime was one of her closest friends and she’d been forced to be around him and Cersei long enough to hear from Cersei, endlessly, about how magical it was.

It was also thanks to Jaime that Brienne knew ‘love at first sight’ wasn’t a real thing. Because if it had been, he’d be as much in love with her as she was with him, and had been, from the moment they met. 

[samirant]

First Lines Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

Tagged by @eryiscrye and @forbiddenfantasies1 Sorry for the late reply!

In reverse chronological order, based on most recently updated:

17. Jaime Lannister hadn’t even gotten to hit the snooze button and his phone was already insistently ringing. (Rush Me All Night Long, Jaime/Brienne)

16. Everything changed when their mother died. (The Prince and the Pearl, Jaime/Brienne)

15. It is a tragedy, the story that ends with a cloak of pure white made crimson by the blood of a fallen knight. (The Bear and the Children Fair, Jaime/Brienne)

14. Margaery: JOY (Balderdash, Jaime/Brienne)

13. Ben Gross was used to disappointment. (Best Night Never, Ben Gross/Devi Vishwakumar, Never Have I Ever)

12. Everyone was in agreement: though graduation meant they could no longer be a study group, that didn't mean their little family wouldn’t remain firmly found. (Backpfeifengesicht aka Nonsensegermanname, Jaime/Brienne)

11. Moving in with Margaery was relatively simple, all things considered. (A Running Leap, Margaery/Sansa & Jaime/Brienne)

10. There was a wreath on the door of Baratheon and Tyrell’s apartment. (Freely Given, Jaime/Brienne)

9. Renly’s neighbor was gorgeous. (Maybe I Know, Jaime/Brienne)

8. “You can’t be serious.” (Take the Cake & Run, Jaime/Brienne)

7. “You know, they’re going to have to do a blood test to confirm it anyway, I would have done it weeks ago if I’d been in town,” Brienne called out. (False Positive, Brienne & Renly Baratheon/Loras Tyrell)

6. Brienne snuggled more deeply into her coat as she walked, wishing she’d thought to wear thicker mittens as her frigid fingers ached around the box in her hands. (Gonna Say That I Tried, Jaime/Brienne)

5. Dr. Brienne Tarth fought off a yawn as she listened to the heart tones of her newest patient, thinking longingly of the cot she’d had to abandon when her pager went off. (alright, outta sight, Jaime/Brienne)

4. It was the sound of whining brakes that broke them apart this time. (dance with me and shake your bones, Jaime/Brienne)

3. Jaime had lost track of how much time had gone by, the lump on the side of his head aching bitterly whenever he tried to estimate distances that a pair of strong arms dragged him along, or the leagues crossed as he sat in the back of a van. (Marked and Measured, pre-Jaime/Brienne)

2. All right, so he may not be the first to admit it, but even Finn will tell you that he's not the brightest of the bunch. (Maybe Just Pretending, pre-Finn/Rachel, Glee)

1. It finally happens, really happens, from one day to the next. (Back Around, Chuck/Sarah, Chuck/Others AKA THE FIC I AM PROUDEST OF IN THE ENTIRE WORLD, Chuck)

Patterns. Hmm. There’s not one set pattern that covers all of these opening sentences, but I think if they were presented to me in a jumble, I’d be able to pick the correct correlating fics 16 out of 17 times. It did occur to me as I collected them that I don’t start stories with a completely random statement; most of these lines are tied to a story beat in a specific way, sort of like a mini-thesis? Either through intended irony or setting the scene, I try to set a tone with the opening sentence.

Maybe I’m full of crap - who knows! 

I do think my favorite is dance with me: It was the sound of whining brakes that broke them apart this time. I like the idea of Brienne and Jaime being crazy for one another, constantly making out like fools and that they’ve been repeatedly interrupted in the midst of it. All that in thirteen words! Yeah, I like that one best. :D

Tagging - if you haven’t already done it, because boy howdy am I late - @slipsthrufingers @luthienebonyx @nire-the-mithridatist @firesign23 @ladyinredfics @mierac and @elizadunc And you!