Teaser

Previously on Jaime Lannister Investigations:

"I should...probably...let you get to sleep."

"I should probably let you do the same."

"Good-night, Jaime."

"Good-night, Brienne—Brienne!"

"Yeah?"

"...this...this...thiscan't go on! You know where we're headed if we keep doing this."

"What this?"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!"

"...I know."

"Save yourself while you can, Brienne. I should leave and never come back and let you get on with your life...but I don't think I can do it on my own. You have to tell me—order me to leave."

"Jaime..."

"I'm not...my world is complicated. It's always going to be complicated and...you deserve more. You deserve better."

"...I don't want you to leave."

...

...

...

...

"I'll see you in the morning?"

"I'll see you in the morning. Good-night, Jaime."

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime and Brienne see each other the next morning and by mutual, unspoken agreement, act as if their conversation the night before never happened. Jaime shares the information about Lannister, Kettleblack, Pycelle and Moon Boy, LLP, with Cersei and two days later reluctantly escorts her to her first meeting with the youngest partner of the firm, Lancel Lannister.

Bronna watches him with suspicious eyes for several days until one morning, she finally asks Brienne for the latest scoop. Brienne blushes and tells her, very primly, that she and Jaime have come to—for lack of a better term—an 'understanding'.

"'Understanding?'" Bronna says. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Brienne says hastily as her blush deepens. "But," she adds as Jaime walks into the office, "Jaime and I are going to Sansa Stark's wedding together."

Bronna's eyebrows shoot into her hairline. "Really."

"It's probably a big mistake," she mutters as she looks at Jaime and he stops in mid-stride, his welcoming grin changing instantly to a frown.

"Mistake?" he says.

Brienne spreads her hands in a helpless shrug. "I don't know how to dance."

Jaime blinks before a slow, wide grin spreads across his face. He turns to Bronna. "She doesn't know how to dance."

"I heard," Bronna says drily.

Jaime gleefully rubs his gold hand and says, "You know what this means, don't you?"

Brienne's eyes widen. "No?"

He leans closer, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"It means I'll have to teach you," he says, his voice a low, seductive rumble. Then, brightly, "It'll be just like My Fair Lady!"

"Probably more like Dirty Dancing," Bronna mutters and Jaime grins and winks.

*/*/*/*/*

The days slip past, filled with insurance fraud cases, clients with small, easily completed cases, and, to Brienne's bemusement, a number of dancing lessons after hours in the emptied board room with not just Jaime but also Sam and Bronna.

"Why do I have to learn to dance?" Sam grumbles as he steps again on Bronna's foot. "I'm not going to the wedding."

"Because knowing how to dance is a useful skill," Jaime says with a grin, "and someday, when you're wooing the lady—or man—of your dreams, you'll be able to sweep them off their feet with your skills on the dance floor."

"Wooing?" Brienne says with a scowl as she tries to follow his lead. "Is it even still called that?"

Jaime spins her round the room and says, "Some old traditions are worth keeping."

Bronna winces as Sam steps on her toes again and says, "Wooing or not, it's also fun, once you know what you're doing. We may need to add a Dance Night to our team bonding activities." Her phone buzzes with a text and she gives Sam an apologetic smile as she releases him to check her messages.

"Sorry, guys," Bronna says with a frown as she texts a response, "I'm going to have to cut the lessons short tonight."

"Hot date?" Jaime says with grin.

Bronna smirks and says, "A girl has to have some secrets, Jaime."

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime and Brienne talk on the phone every night and while they don't always discuss their personal relationship, there's an intimacy to their conversations that warms them both. They usually call before they go to bed or, when they know they're going to be out for the evening, before they leave their respective apartments.

Brienne's trivia night with Bronna is already a tradition although in the weeks leading up to Sansa's wedding, Bronna spends more and more time with her mysterious new love interest. She hasn't told even Brienne much about him but then again, they do have an unspoken pact that, when they go out for the evening, they talk about everything except work and the men in their lives. Besides, Bronna also hasn't indicated any desire to share any of the details with Brienne.

Brienne suspects Bronna is close-mouthed at the moment because the relationship is still too new to expose the poor man to her friends and family. And Brienne is close-mouthed about Jaime because...well...

Because whatever is happening with Jaime is moving at the speed of a glacier and Brienne is relieved and confused and intrigued by it all, and she wants to hold everything in all its delicious uncertainty close within her heart as her own secret for now. She admits, though, that if it wasn't for Jaime's flirtatious teasing and the way his eyes burn when he has her in his arms during their dancing lessons, or their nightly phone calls, she'd think she only dreamed their conversation several weeks earlier.

Brienne isn't ready yet to deal with any more of Bronna's questions and teasing about Jaime. Of course, that means Brienne isn't getting the inside information about Bronna's new relationship either...

Brienne decides it's the price she's willing to pay.

For now.

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime, for his part, is torn between feeling guilty for being unable to force himself to allow Brienne to save herself while simultaneously looking forward to the wedding. Despite the dancing lessons, the occasional night out for dinner and a movie, and the heated way Brienne looks at him when his flirtatious teasing takes a turn towards the serious, he can't help but think of the wedding as their first real date.

"Date?" Tyrion snorts the week before the wedding. "Have you ever actually dated anyone? Charmed them, yes, and you may even have fucked them on occasion—although, knowing you, probably not—but dated them? You never even dated Cersei!"

"How could I?" Jaime asks drily. "She's been married for half our lives."

"You prove my point."

"I'm not certain what your point is. Besides, you giving me a hard time about dating is beyond rich!"

Tyrion grins, his mismatched eyes filled with mischievous glee. "At least I have experience with more than one woman!"

Jaime rolls his eyes. "As if that's a good thing," he mutters and Tyrion laughs.

"Well," Tyrion says cheerfully, lifting his glass in a toast, "at least you're not obsessing about seeing Cersei at the wedding."

Jaime grimaces. "My only concern about that is what she's going to say to Brienne."

Tyrion winces. "Gods, let's hope even Cersei knows how to act in public."

*/*/*/*/*

The morning of the wedding dawns bright and clear and as Brienne nervously gets ready, she thinks that even though the marriage is going to end in total disaster, at least they'll have a beautiful day for the wedding.

She critically examines herself in the mirror once she's dressed.

While there's not much she can do about her features—her face will never be what anyone considers beautiful and her only makeup is some light lipstick—she's rather cautiously pleased with the way she looks. The trouser suit isn't the dress Jaime requested, but she is wearing three-inch pumps and beneath the jacket is a sleeveless halter top that leaves her back bare to just below her waist.

Not that she's sure she'll actually take off the suit jacket and she's not sure Jaime will like it—

She lifts her chin at that thought and glares at her reflection.

She looks great, she firmly tells herself, and most importantly: she feels comfortable in this outfit. If Jaime doesn't like it, well, then he can go jump in the Blackwater.

The apartment buzzer rings and Brienne's stomach swoops so violently she actually has to close her eyes and breathe deeply to steady her nerves.

She lets Jaime into the building then, when he knocks, she takes a deep breath and opens her door with a trembling hand.

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime's eyes widen as he takes in the long lines of her legs made even longer by her trim, peach-coloured trouser suit and what must be heels at least three inches high, given the way she towers over him.

He meets her defiantly uncertain eyes and slowly grins.

"You look...magnificent," he breathes.

She blushes as she gives him a bashful smile and for a moment, he honest-to-gods thinks he's going to drown in her eyes.

They stare at each other in silence until Jaime starts a little and holds out the bouquet of delicately pretty flowers he brought with him.

"For you," he says huskily then curses himself for stating the obvious.

She blinks in surprise then blushes even more as she almost hesitantly takes the flowers from him.

"Thank you," she says, her voice as husky as his. "Come in while I find a vase for these."

They make almost-shy small talk while Brienne finds a dusty vase hidden away in the back of her cupboard and Jaime watches her with an appreciative smile.

As they leave her apartment, Jaime thinks that even though Sansa's marriage to Joffrey is going to end up being a hot mess played out in the tabloids, the wedding is looking more promising by the minute.

*/*/*/*/*

The sept is only half-full by the time they make their way through the varysazzi. They glance round the sept then take discreet seats in the back, to the side and several pews behind the rest of the guests.

In the half hour before the ceremony is to begin, they amuse themselves by scanning the crowd and pointing out the surprising number of people they recognize.

Stannis and Renly Baratheon along with their respective families are on the groom's side of the sept. Even when seen from behind, Stannis and his wife, Selyse, radiate disapproval while their daughter, Shireen, sits with a disconsolate air.

"Or mayhaps it's just boredom," Jaime murmurs and Brienne bites back a chuckle.

Renly, meanwhile, jokes and laughs with his husband, Loras, his sister-in-law Margaery, and his grandmother-in-law, Olenna Tyrell, the second richest woman in Westeros.

The Stark side is filled with people neither Jaime nor Brienne recognize but assume are from the North.

They're working their way through the names of all the Northern Houses they can remember when the man sitting just behind the row of seats reserved for Sansa's immediate family stands and strolls towards the back of the sept. Their eyes meet for a long moment before he gives them a smirk and a cool nod as he walks out of the sept into the flashing cameras of the varysazzi.

"Looks like Petyr Baelish is back in the Starks' good graces," Jaime murmurs, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of Brienne's ear and neck.

"Was he ever truly out of them?" she whispers back as she tries to hide her shiver. "Catelyn and Ned never had the same suspicions we did."

Jaime frowns then shrugs.

They sit in relative silence, watching the waiting crowd. They exchange observations about dresses and hats and hairstyles while the crowd gradually gets louder and increasingly restless.

Jaime finally turns to Brienne and says, "Is it just me or have we been sitting here longer than thirty minutes?"

Brienne glances at her watch and frowns as she nods. "The ceremony was supposed to start a half hour ago."

As if their words have summoned her, a door opens to their right and Catelyn pokes her head out. They watch her scan the crowd with a worried frown on her face, a frown that turns to relief when she sees them. She gestures for them to join her and ducks back out of sight.

*/*/*/*/*

They step into a quiet hallway and Catelyn quickly and quietly closes the door behind them.

"Thank gods you sat in the back," she says. "We need your help."

Jaime and Brienne exchange a puzzled glance.

"Why?" Brienne asks.

"Because Sansa is missing."

*/*/*/*/*