I would love to hear about the JB roadtrip fic please!!
This is actually one of the top WIPs I want to focus on when I finish the current one I’m working on. I adore this one to pieces and have spent way too long contemplating modern highway design and urban planning when working on it. (insert embarrassed face)
Here’s a little bit of what I’ve written. It’s very unedited but I hope you enjoy.
“Brienne,” he tried, and his voice stumbling into a rush “Margaery’s getting married to Tyrion at the end of the week in Highgarden.”
She shook her head. “I’m busy, but tell Tyrion and Margaery I said that I wish them all the best, hopefully marriage works out for at least one of us.”
“No, Jaime,” she stopped him curtly, “you’re asking me to travel back to Highgarden with you during Long Night time knowing full well what happened last time. Or did you forget that-”
“Yes, yes. I get it,” he interjected, jaw tightening. Shame prickled all over him.
Brienne clenched her jaw and closed her eyes. After an exhale she opened them again, “As I told you, you’ve wasted your time coming here, Jaime, there’s no way I could go back there right now.”
“That’s what I told her you’d say.”
“You’ve done well,” he complimented, gesturing around the office.
“It’s nice, I could have never imagined being here ten years ago,” she almost looked like she was smiling for the first time this conversation. “And you, still training the Kingsguard officers?”
Brienne looked surprised. “You did? I assume there’s a story there.”
“There is-” Jaime paused, something behind her catching his eye. “Hold on. Is that...” He got up from the seat and crossed behind her desk. He found himself greeted by a beloved hue of a cherry-hued valyrian steel. The prized antique sword of House Lannister, gifted to him by his father when he turned twenty-one, lay proudly in a sleek glass display case. “Why do you have Widow’s Wail? I thought I threw that away.”
Brienne turned to look at him, one eyebrow momentarily raised in disbelief. “Moving past the fact that you actually dumped a priceless artifact in the trash can to begin with, it is part of a pair. It would be wrong to part them.” She nodded to the shelf above it where Oathkeeper gleamed from inside its own pristine casing. “They are yours, you can have them back,” she offered, her eyes flickered to Oathkeeper as she said it.
He shook his head, “Maybe Widow’s Wail, but Oathkeeper is yours, it’s always been yours.”
“Then why throw Widow’s Wail away to begin with?” she asked, “You loved that sword.”
“I did,” Jaime agreed. “I do,” he corrected. “I’m not a monster. I was in a bad state when I threw it away. I came back to get it two days later, but it was gone. I thought someone had stolen it from the trash, maybe even tried to recycle it. I hadn’t imagined it would be you.”
Brienne hummed in acknowledgement.
“Are you really not going to Highgarden?” he asked then. “It would mean the world to Margaery.”
“My stance hasn’t changed.” She leaned back into her plush office chair, crossing her arms.
Jaime pursed his lips. “Okay then...I’ll let Margaery know.” He didn’t move.
Brienne narrowed her eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
“I thought you deserved a chance to refuse before I kidnap you,” he drawled, “be glad this wasn’t preemptive. I get that your busy, but it’s Long Night, and-”
“It is, and traveling is incredibly expensive right now. ?” His eyes drift over the array of certificates and photos she’s obtained in the time they haven’t been together. A reminder that she’d built a whole life outside of him. “And you know my legs get horribly cramped in the seats.”
“No planes, got it,” he said, mentally patting himself on the back for not giving in to instinct and checking her out when she mentioned her legs. He pulled his car keys from his pocket and waved them in front of her. “I was planning to drive.”
“It’s a thirty-seven hour trip,” he shrugged, “If we each manage six hours a day, we’ll arrive there in plenty of time.”
She was fixing him with one of her unamused glares.
“The wedding,” he reminded her. “The one your best friend would turn into an absolute demon if you weren’t there for.”
Brienne sighed, head falling against the back of her chair.
“She’s going to fly out here if I don’t come with you, isn’t she.”
“Who’s to say,” he answered affably, “But I could have sworn she said something about using the family jet.”
“Fine,” Brienne grumbled, “But if you think I’m about to put up with any of your crap…”
Jaime held his hands up in surrender.
“I promise to be on my best behavior. Scouts honor.”
“All I ask for is basic civility,” she said, trying to smother her snort.
“Of course, but don’t expect silence.”
“I would expect nothing less from you.” She reached out, as if to touch his arm, but aborted her movement, leaving her hand a moment to graceless hang mid air.
“Right,” he said leaning towards her desk and plucking a business card from the edge. He grabbed a pen, jotting down his information. “Here’s my cell, text me your address. I’ll pick you up ten to six tomorrow morning. Don’t try to run. Otherwise,” he grimaced, thinking of his sister-in-law-to-be “you’ll just make this painful for all of us.”
Brienne gave him a similarly pained look.
“Okay then,” he said, giving her a nod. As he strode away, he felt the urge to look back one more time. It had been so long since he had last seen her. An instinctual fear was kicking in that he would forget everything about her. He turned his head towards her as he slipped out the door and found her watching him. He froze.
“Tomorrow,” he agreed and kept moving. When he finally made it out the building, past the bone chilling winter air of Queenscrown, into the safety of his car, he slumped.
