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The problem with having Jaime Lannister as a best friend is that he's so very Jaime.
To be fair, that's also the best part of having him as a best friend.
It's not enough that he's sharply funny, smart, and loyal. It's not enough that he's beautiful. It's not enough that when he looks at her, she knows he sees her, all of her, not the boxes the rest of the world shoves her into.
No, all of those things are wonderful, but now he's become Jaime in a whole new way: He won't stop touching her.
At first it was little things. His hand on her shoulder when he wanted to see something on her laptop. His arm across the back of the sofa when they collapsed in front of the television together after long, stressful days. His hand at the small of her back when he passed her, pressed close even when there is plenty of space around them.
Hugging her hello, and good-bye, and when he thinks she needs one, and when he simply wants to.
She's going to die if he doesn't stop touching her. Absolutely explode into a mess of unfulfilled lust. Unless he touches her more, and in ways that would relieve the burning need she feels every time he's near. Every time she thinks about him. Every time she remembers his touch, and his friendly mocking, and his comfort when the world finally gets to her.
Brienne likes beautiful men, and funny men, and smart men. Jaime is all those things, and more. He's the best person she's ever known. The best friend she's ever had.
Five years of knowing each other, four years of friendship, and she is completely and utterly in love with him.
They don't have secrets from each other, not really, but she'll take that one to the grave.
Halloween is Jaime's favourite holiday. At least it is in September and October. In November and December, it's Sevenmas. In April and May, it's -- well, it's all of them. Always. Jaime flings himself into whatever holiday is next with all the joy and energy he can possibly manage.
Brienne likes Halloween too. Little Brienne loved to wear sparkly, fluffy tutus, princess dresses and crowns of love and beauty, the soft shirts and breeches of the Mother of Dragons.
Later, when the world made absolutely certain she knew an ugly girl had no right to pretty, floofy, soft things, she embraced monster masks, and heavy stage makeup, and horror stories.
It's harder now. Everything is sexy. Seems like the weirder the better. Sexy wight (nothing sexier than the undead). Sexy snowman (not a good idea for anyone with a penis, she's heard). Sexy emoji keyboard (doesn't even clickety clack). Sexy Septa (almost too easy). Sexy hamburger (there's hunger and then there's hunger). Sexy Sept of Baelor (for the truly blasphemous, green flames at the base). Sexy endocrine system (how). Sexy hippocras (there's thirst and then there's thirst). Sexy dragon (couple's costume, pair it with a sexy dragon rider). Harder to be a monster. Not impossible.
She doesn't let it bother her. Most of the time. Likes her body, her strength, her size.
Jaime seems to like it, too. That she's stronger than he is, that they spar without holding back, that she can carry him.
"My protector," he calls her, tilts his head onto her shoulder, beams. "My best friend."
It's not everything she wants from him, not by a longshot, but it's sweet indeed.
Old Evenfall opens as a haunted keep all of October. It was her first big project when she took over as Evenstar. People were sceptical at first. Come in droves now. Mainlanders, too, from Storm's End all the way to Lannisport, Castle Black to Sunspear. Beyond.
Three months ago, Jaime's sister dropped two of her three children on his doorstep.
Almost literally. She sent them with one of her personal security team -- a Kettleblack, Brienne thinks, never able to keep the brothers straight. Didn't warn Jaime until they were already in the air.
Jaime loves them. Losing the chance to see them regularly is his major regret when he cut ties with his father. Left Lannisport behind for the remote, peaceful island. Still, adding them for an unknown amount of time is a big transition. Especially since she and Jaime have been roommates since his second year on Tarth. She clattered around the family section of the keep all by herself until he slammed into her life.
On his own, he filled their home with golden energy. Add two golden children who adore their uncle, and try to hide their sadness about their mother, and are grumpy or shy around Brienne in turns, the family section has never felt so crowded.
So wonderfully full.
It's the first Halloween since Myrcella and Tommen came to Tarth. It might be their only Halloween on Tarth. Jaime's determined to enjoy every single moment of it.
The biggest pumpkin patch is in Morne on the other side of the island. They take the entire day.
The breeze is cool off the sea, but the sun is warm. Leaves languidly spin as they fall from the trees. Red and gold. Orange and brown.
Myrcella gathers the ones that are dry and relatively clean. Twists them into a bouquet. Ties them with a ribbon from her hair.
"Am I your king of love and beauty?" Jaime asks when she offers it to him. Takes it. Twirls it between his fingers.
She scrunches up her nose. "It's just pretty, Uncle Jaime."
He gently bops her on the head. "So are you."
That earns him an eyeroll but also a wide Lannister grin.
Jaime talked them into wearing coordinating flannels. Snaps pictures everywhere they go. The kids picking up pumpkins, then setting them down again. Kneeling in the dirt, turning the pumpkins to and fro. Determined to find the best ones.
Tommen holds his up. Almost as big as his head. Beams, a gap-toothed smile.
Myrcella chooses three smaller ones. Nearly perfectly matched.
They gorge themselves on cider donuts, hot chocolate thick with miniature marshmallows, fresh local cheese on fancy crackers.
Brienne's cheeks and nose are sunburned by the time she drives them home. The kids slump against each other in the back. Fall asleep within minutes.
Jaime leans against the passenger window. He's even more golden from their day in the autumn sun. She catches him watching her every time she looks over.
"You have a bit of chocolate," he tells her when they're stopped at a light. Leans over. Rubs his thumb across the corner of her mouth.
She wants to turn her head and kiss it. Leans into his touch almost infinitesimally.
His hand lingers until the light changes.
They carve pumpkins on a picnic table in the back garden overlooking the sea.
Tommen tugs on Brienne's sleeve. Ducks his head when she turns to him.
"Can you draw a cat face?" he asks. Almost a whisper. "Uncle Jaime's not a good artist."
Brienne bites the inside of her cheek. "I'll try. Pumpkin isn't my normal medium."
He blinks. Mouths her words. "What is?" he asks.
She shows him one of her work sketchbooks. Mostly brainstorming designs for new displays. Iconography in weapons. Modern stories in the style of historical tapestries. A handful of cartoonish designs for a proposed colouring book.
"Who's that?" he points to her favourite.
"That's the Blue Knight. She was a hero of the Second Long Night."
"Like those stories Uncle Jaime loves." He grins. "Brave knights and honourable ladies."
"Exactly that." It's more complicated, not as clear cut as summer knights and winter monsters. When she was Tommen's age, she loved the stories too. Won't take that away from him.
She ducks a little closer to him. "Did you know her sword is right here on Tarth?"
His eyes widen. "Really? Can I see it?"
"Even better, you can hold it."
He bounces in his seat. "Can we go right now?"
"Sorry, not yet. After Halloween."
He juts out his lower lip. Brienne backs back a laugh. It's effective enough on Jaime. Devastating on this adorable child.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She offers him her hand. They shake, terribly formal.
"Could you try to draw that cat?" he asks.
"Why don't we both try?"
She tears a page out of her sketchpad. Sets her charcoal pencils between them.
In the end, she draws a mix of their designs on the pumpkin. Big eyes, whiskers, triangle nose, little cat ears.
He gets a pumpkin carving kit designed for children, dull tools. Uses them carefully, tip of his tongue sticking out.
Brienne's biassed. She'll admit it. His is the cutest of all their jack-o-lanterns.
Jaime talks them into a family costume. Myrcella is a princess in a custom dress, red and gold brocade. Too heavy for the weather, even as cool as Tarth's nights get in autumn, but she loves it. Jaime obsessively watches Raventube instruction videos until he can twist her long golden hair into intricate plaits. Weaves flowers into them.
Tommen's a squire. Brienne draws a heraldic device for him. Halved in red and gold. Lannister lion and Baratheon stag dancing together.
He's her squire he says. Insists on holding her hand when they leave for trick or treating. Brienne's shoulders tense until she forces herself to relax. She's not used to this. She can count on one hand the number of people who've given her a comforting touch over the past decade.
Jaime's at the top of the list.
He watches them, eyes soft. She bites her lower lip. Her cheeks burn.
He's beautiful in his armour. Wears his golden curls loose. Neatly trims his beard before they leave. There's a touch of grey at his temples. His beard is more silver than gold.
His armour is custom. So is hers. His is golden, touched with red and black. He wears the Lannister lions for the first time since he came to Tarth. He fits with the children.
He claims she does, too. Surprised her with her own set of armour. Blue, marked with suns, moons, and lion heads. The Evenstar's personal sigil in the centre of the chest plate.
The Blue Knight.
There are even swords. Real swords. Heavy, expensive. Not Valyrian steel, that skill was lost centuries ago, but the closest she's ever seen in a replica. Oathkeeper at her hip, a gold lion head on the pommel, ruby eyes like burning stars. The pommel is simple, repeating the suns, moons, and lion heads from her armour.
No question that he carries Widow's Wail. It is even more ostentatious than Oathkeeper. Gold, cherrywood, and red leather scabbard, studded with a row of gold lion heads, each eye a large, perfect ruby.
The weight of the armour settles on her shoulders. Her back. Her thighs. Familiar, though it's nicer than the sets she wears for sparring at Evenfall, for mediaeval fairs.
They're not five minutes from the car when someone asks for a picture.
"A beautiful family," she says, beaming at them. "Your costumes are wonderful. So detailed."
Jaime smiles and thanks her.
Brienne flushes darker still.
Several hours later, on the way back to the car, Tommen takes her hand again. Swings his candy bag at his other side.
Myrcella moves between Jaime and Brienne. Holds Jaime's hand. Then gives him her candy bag and grabs Brienne's free hand. Doesn't look up at her.
Jaime catches her eye over Myrcella's head. Smiles the sweetest smile she's ever seen.
"Thank you." He speaks quietly, though the children are asleep on the sofa. Candy is spilled across the low table in front of them. Myrcella still wears most of her costume, even the flowers in her hair. Tommen's down to breeches and the lightweight shirt he wore under his doublet.
There are pieces of armour in neat piles on the other side of the room.
Brienne stops cleaning up the candy. Sorting flavours. Binning empty wrappers. Straightens. "You don't have to thank me. This was fun."
"It was. I'm glad you came with us. Wouldn't have been the same without you."
She never thought she'd have anything like this.
"I should thank you." She doesn't elaborate. Doesn't need to. He already knows of her loneliness, her isolation.
He nods toward the kitchen. She follows him.
A cup of tea would be lovely, but he doesn't put the kettle on. Leans against the counter. Rests his palms on the edge.
She's tired. Warm from being a part of things. Comfortable in their home.
Gives herself permission to look at him for once instead of turning away.
He's even more tempting like this, rumpled and relaxed. His breeches are tailored for him. He wouldn't wear anything else even if he didn't regularly join her exhibitions and tours. The fabric of his undershirt is fine. She can see the shadow of his golden chest hair through it.
He rolls his shoulders back. Takes a deep breath.
"I love you."
The words hang between them. He looks almost as startled as she feels.
Her mouth falls open. All she can do is stare.
"Shit." He runs one hand through his hair, mussing it further. "I didn't mean to say that."
Her stomach drops. Of course he didn't.
"I know you didn't." She smiles. Tries to smile. It's shaky. "It's okay. I won't--" She stops. Doesn't have any more words.
His expression twists with worry. She clearly didn't pull off that smile. "Brienne. No. I love you. I do. I didn't mean to blurt it out like that."
She opens her mouth again. Closes it.
Swallows.
Tries again. "What did you mean to do?"
He pushes off the counter. Takes a few steps toward her. "Ask you on a date. Somehow. Everything I thought of, we already do."
She tilts her head. Thinks about it quickly. Movies, dinners, hiking, museums -- he has a point.
"Then I'd walk you to your door at the end of the first date. Ask if I could kiss you. Hope I'm right, not just seeing things. That you feel the same way I do."
She moves closer. Slowly. He waits. Lets her come.
"I'd say yes." She stops directly in front of him. "To the date. To the kiss."
He touches her at last. Traces his fingertips along the curve of her jaw. Raises up to meet her as he guides her down for a kiss.
It's a sweet kiss, soft and lingering. She reaches for him. Rests her hands on his shoulders for the first kiss. The second. Touches the back of his neck after. His curls.
His hands drop to her hips. He pulls her close. He's solid in her arms. Warm.
She can't say it yet, but she knows: she loves him. Oh how she loves him.
"I love you," she tells him for the first time. He lights up with joy and sweeps her into his arms. She fought him the first time he tried, and the second, and the third. She's too heavy, too tall.
Doesn't matter. He's strong enough.
The next Halloween, Tommen convinces them he's old enough to try the haunted keep.
Turns out he's not.
Good thing Jaime and Brienne's new bed in their now shared bedroom is large enough for all three of them.
Halfway through the night, Myrcella makes four.
Brienne sleeps little that night. Doesn't matter. It's enough to hold Jaime's hand, whisper inconsequential things, and hold the children safe between them.
Brienne wears Tommen's favour for the melee. Jaime wears Myrcella's.
They're the last two standing. Their fight drags on and on, but in the end, she beats him into the dirt.
Crowns him her king of love and beauty after.
He kisses her while the commons cheer.
The problem with having Jaime as a best friend is that he's even better as a boyfriend. A partner. A husband.
He still never stops touching her.
She doesn't mind.