Chapter Text
Brienne was in her favourite place in the world - the new Dragonbone Room at the Lannisport Zoological Museum. More specifically she was sat on the high platform, level with the spine of the Meraxes Dragon skeleton that she had spent a good part of four years painstakingly constructing in the empty gallery. Her doctorate had been a detailed, careful study of the microstructure of the amazingly strong, mineral rich but ultra light black bones of dragons. She had an aptitude for lab work and found it fascinating but she had hoped that afterwards she would be able to go into the field. But then the new post of Curator of Dragons had come up and Hyle had persuaded her to take it. She had been proud to create the new Dragon exhibition that she hoped might one day compete with the enormous beast in the Red Keep Museum that had first captured her attention on a school trip to Kings Landing and set her on her chosen career path. It had been hard at times, making her name known in the frankly male chauvinist world of dragon science but she had persisted and was lucky to have won this job - which, Hyle had said, was the job she had always dreamed of. Although there was more administration, more worrying about budgets and needing to smooze potential donors than had featured in her dreams. And, it turned out, no field and discovery work at all . But still - she was here with Merry (as she called the Dragon in her head). She reached out and with utmost care hovered her gloved hand so it was almost touching the skeleton and virtually stroked it.
Just then Stannis Baratheon, the Director of the Museum, came in waving a telegram in his hand, followed by Hyle. “Good news, Brienne! the inter-costal clavicle will be here tomorrow. Just in time for the opening.” Brienne scrambled quickly down the ladder and snatched the paper from his hands eagerly. “Fantastic! And then Merry will be finished - I am so looking forward to adding the last piece. It will be the best thing I’ve done.” Hyle came up to her and put his arm around her waist. “Only the second best, I hope. Surely our wedding the day after will be the best. And I don’t see why the museum had to pay so much for one little bone. We could have left the replica in place.”
“Oh no,” exclaimed Brienne. “Merry needs a proper clavicle - without it she wouldn’t be able to fly.” She realised what she had said and blushed deeply. “But of course our wedding will be the best day.” She leaned down her unscarred cheek towards him to kiss. Hyle had studied geology and paleontology with her at University which was where they met but he hadn’t been able to get the funding for a doctorate with his lower second degree. Instead he got an administrative job at the museum. But if only they could get funding then she hoped they could go on a field discovery trip together - maybe even to Qarth or one of the other major dragonbone excavation sites.
As always Stannis was uncomfortable with even that very muted display of affection. “Never mind that you two. Brienne, you are supposed to be meeting Edmure Tully on the golf course in twenty minutes.” Brienne sighed. Edmure Tully was one of the potential donors she was supposed to smooze - or rather the lawyer of a potential donor. He was very dull, very cautious and very fond of golf. Brienne thought it might even be possible that he wasn’t particularly interested in dragons. But she knew that his client had a million gold dragons that she wanted to gift to a museum in Lannisport and Hyle told her that the zoological museum needed that money badly. She kissed her fiance chastely on his cheek and went to get ready.
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It was a glorious day, thought Jaime Lannister, too good to spend indoors so he had been happy to accept Loras’ invitation to play a round of golf with him. He had forgotten how bloody difficult golf was now he didn’t have a fully functioning right hand and how much Loras always enjoyed beating him at anything. Arrogant little pup that he was. Just wait till he was nearly forty and had lost most of his fingers from one hand. Then they would see who was the better man. At least they were on the last hole. Loras had finished with a flourish and a hole in one and was ostentatiously waiting for Jaime while watching the young men playing on the next green over to the right. Jaime had screwed up his shot badly and the ball was now in the rough. Where was the stupid thing? Ah there! Loras wasn’t looking so Jaime nudged the ball into a better spot and prepared to play.
Just then one of the fellows that had been playing on the nearby green to the left came running over. Loras had merely glanced at this pair - a portly middle aged type and a gangly youth with wild pale blond hair - before moving on. It was the very tall lad that was running over. “Excuse me sir, excuse me!” he exclaimed breathlessly. Jaime frowned at him to be quiet and took aim at the golf ball. He caught it badly and it travelled only a small way. Damn nerve damage! Mind you he had somehow lined up a much better shot. If only this weird chap would stop babbling at him. He turned to look and gawked in surprise. “Good god, you’re a woman!” The chap - or rather the wench - blushed a very deep red and took a deep breath. “I am, sir,” he or rather she said. “Women are allowed to play as guests. This is the modern age. I am a woman and that is my ball.”
“Nonsense” said Jaime. “And you shouldn’t disturb a man when he is about to play. Basic manners - whether you are a man or a woman.”
“Basic manners would also mean you shouldn’t play with a woman’s balls,” she said with great dignity. It was too much - Jaime burst out laughing.
Her blush got even redder but she stood her ground. She really was very tall. Very ugly too - though he did notice she had pretty eyes.
“I mean, sir,” she persisted, “that is my ball. Its a Dragonegg - which is the brand I always play with for - well sentimental reasons. Do you play with Dragoneggs?”
Jaime shook his head. “I don’t really care what brand. They all do the same job.” He turned his back on her and took the shot. Thank god it went in. He went over and plucked the ball from the hole. Looking at it he noticed there was a black dragon logo printed on it - he couldn’t remember if it had been there before. And the wench did seem really quite upset about it. On impulse he went back to her and took her hand, opening her long white fingers so he could drop the ball in it. “But here - you can have this one with my compliments.”
She stared at him in astonishment. Really very pretty eyes. He winked at her and walked over to Loras.
“All done, old chap. And you beat the cripple - well done you! Hope you don’t mind if I am off now - no time for a drink.”
Loras sped off in the direction of bar - waving at the handsomer of the two men on the next green as he did so.
Jaime went over to the car park. He was about to get in his car when he caught sight of a gleaming black motorbike in the corner. It was a beauty - a Valyrian. Very like the one Jaime had used to have. He couldn’t resist going over to it, running his hands over its sleek contours, couldn’t resist getting on it - just for a moment, to sit astride the powerful machine again, just for a moment, to pretend it was his, he missed his bike so much, missed the power and speed, the risk and the control. He shut his eyes, grasped the handlebars, trying to pretend. But then he heard a wild cry and that enormous wench from the golf course was there again. She was really angry now, yelling at him to get off her bike. He opened his eyes and held up his hands apologetically. He knew that sitting on someone else’s bike was a bit much really. But he hadn’t meant any harm. And apologising never came easily to Jaime. “Calm down wench, I’m not going to take it. I should have known it was yours though - you look like the kind of woman who might like to ride a real wild beast, something big and strong between her legs.” Predictably that enraged her even more - she leant over and practically shoved him off the bike. She was bloody strong, he thought, watching her climb on the saddle. She glared at him one more time, putting on her helmet. Bloody long legs too, thick and muscled. She accelerated away from him as he stood in the car park watching her drive away.