I was kind of skeptical about the Queen Brienne AU, but I got pulled in from the very first extract you posted. I'm so happy that you'll be posting it on ao3 and I can't wait to read it. And also please post an extract of 1 for a mexican hot chocolate with a whipped cream and cinnamon topping
I’m so glad you’re excited for Queen!Brienne! TBH I wasn’t sure of the reception, but people are really into it and I’m super happy! I started brainstorming today, and if anyone has 5 minutes for me to work out a structural issue, I’d be more than grateful.
Now, I did say I was done with these. But I’ve been on the back-foot all day and 100 words is better than nothing. So thank you for the delicious hot chocolate, here are some paragraphs!
After finding out about his sister’s marriage to Tyrion, Robb Stark arranges for Jaime to marry his mother’s sworn sword, Brienne (who has just been recaptured trying to escort him back to KL).
Jaime had never imagined his wedding before. But if he had, it certainly wouldn’t have been this.
No tournament to celebrate; no blushing bride at the Sept. The food was scarce but the wine a-plenty. The mood inside the great hall at Riverrun was dour; whilst her son was out plotting his next move south, Catelyn Stark seemed tormented by her decision to place her sworn sword in the open mouth of the lion. The rest of the Tullys either ignored him, or eyed him with some curiosity. He made quite the groom: trimmed beard, clean clothes, chains allowing him to eat but not to strangle anyone in the room.
Brienne sat beside him. His wife. Lady Stark’s guilt, it seemed, had manifested in a new set of clothes for his bride. Sturdy boots; stitched breeches. A shirt of the deepest blue. Jaime had a cloak around his shoulders in the same colour. It brought out her eyes. She did have rather beautiful eyes.
Don’t go there. Don’t even think it. “So, is it everything you imagined and more, wife?”
“A dream come true, Kingslayer,” Brienne said, taking a sip of wine. She’d barely touched her food.
“It’s husband, now, sweetling. Married to the most handsome man in all of Westeros. Surely I’m better than your other betrothals.” Jaime leaned back in his chair. “If there were other betrothals.”
Brienne poked at one of her potatoes with her fork. “There were, dear husband. And what of you? How many women wanted to be married to an oath-breaking knight who f_cked his sister?”
“Your dear lady’s sister, actually. Before I joined the Kingsguard, of course. Reason enough to abandon such discussions. And what of you? Why did your last suitor leave you for me?”
“He wanted me to give up my sword. Wanted me to act like a proper woman. I said I would, if he could beat me in a bout.”
Jaime grinned. He could only imagine the beating that arrogant man had suffered at the hands of a younger Brienne of Tarth. He turned to Brienne, prepared to ask further about how she’d unseated the chap, only to notice her staring as if he’d grown a second head. “What is it?”
“Why are you smiling? Have I said something that amuses you, dear husband?”
“Yes,” he said, honestly. “You have. I’m smiling at the arrogance of such a man. You know, I’d say there’s two, maybe three men in all of the seven kingdoms who stand a chance of beating you.”
Her eyes flashed. “You’re one of them, I take it.”
Jaime shrugged, and speared a sliver of meat with the dull knife they’d provided him. “Feed me, let me rest, give me a sword, and we’ll see, wife. We’ll see.”