closed RP: Brienne and Jaime

[maid-brienne.livejournal.com]

Brienne had known from an early age that she did not look the way a lady should. Too tall, shoulders too broad, face too broad, and when her breasts did grow they didn’t grow much. Then she’d learned to fight, and added a collection of scars and injuries that made the matter worse. Her nose had been broken. What Biter did to her cheek, she’d let a professor at Hogwarts fix. There was no fixing the rest of her, though. She’d have needed a whole new body for that.

And then, one morning, she awoke to find she had precisely that.

Except that it wasn’t exactly new. It was, shall we say, a used body. Specifically, it was the Queen’s body.

She realised it before even opening her eyes. She wore something silken, and she’d gone to sleep in mail and boiled leather, wanting to be ready for anything. She even smelled different. Something sweet, a perfume of some kind, not the familiar smell of stables or armor or sweat.

Tentatively, she passed light fingertips over her own face – no, over the face that was not hers. The skin of the fingertips themselves was almost as much a surprise as the skin they touched: no callouses, soft.

It was not until she looked into a mirror, though, that it dawned on her just how much trouble she was in. Brienne looked into the mirror, hesitant, and the face of Cersei Lannister looked back at her, that hesitant expression utterly foreign on her refined features.

Queen Cersei will kill me, she thought, and on the heels of that thought: If I am in Queen Cersei’s body, who is in mine? Brienne had to fix this, before something terrible happened. What could happen she could not say, only that it would be bad.

Doggedly, she set out, still in Cersei’s nightgown, having no idea where she was going or what she was looking for, only that she needed to do something, and she would not find any answers if she hid in Cersei’s room. It was not much different from her search for the Stark girls back in Westeros, in that sense. She had little to guide her, but damned if she wouldn’t try. She would ask the first person she met if they knew anything, and use that information as her guide until she heard different from the next person.

But the first person she met, in a corridor wholly unfamiliar to her, was Jaime Lannister.

Brienne realised that she had been wrong about how much trouble she was in, after all. She was in far more trouble than she ever could have imagined.

Comments

[jaime-lackhand.livejournal.com]

((All violence done with permission of the mun. This trio is fucked up, I swear to god))
Jaime was in a terrible mood that fateful morning, owing to nightmares, and the fact that he was Jaime Lannister, and rarely in the greatest of moods anyway. So he'd been stomping down the corridors of Hogwarts, making life miserable for whomever got in his way.

Then he saw Cersei. Just the person to make his bad mood worse. Also, possibly make it better. He was that pissed off that he wasn't currently noticing the lack of Cersei-ness. That would come much later.

For now, he smiled that cruel smile of his, and said softly "Hello, sweet sister."

Cersei probably would've recognised this little warning sign, but either way, "Cersei" is pushed against the wall fairly hard, and then soundly kissed.

[maid-brienne.livejournal.com]

Brienne knew what the Lannisters were reputed to get up to. Having such forceful confirmation was another matter entirely. She should protest! It was an outrage!

Or so said the voice that was being firmly pushed to the back of her mind and buried under the buildup of desire accumulated through months and months of futile longing.

She had never really kissed someone this way, and she did not really respond outwardly, still less so the way Cersei would have responded. Inside, she was dying of mortification and excitement and a thousand self-reproaches.

[jaime-lackhand.livejournal.com]

Jaime's brain knew something was wrong with this kiss. This wasn't Cersei. Cersei was never like this, even when she was pissed off at him.

Even when she'd been fucking Moonboy

In fact, when she was pissed off, she was usually a lot more into it. He stepped back for a second, and looked at his sister.

That wasn't Cersei... cursed magic school.

"Alright, who in hell are you? Because I know for damned sure you aren't Cersei."

[maid-brienne.livejournal.com]

Brienne's eyes -- Cersei's eyes -- went wide. If there had been automobiles in Westeros, one might say she resembled a deer in headlights. And if she had been immobile before, now she was truly frozen.

"I --" Oh, Mother have mercy, she could not say anything. She made a sound that might have been um, or er, or some other completely meaningless spacefiller that conveyed the speaker did not know what to say.

[jaime-lackhand.livejournal.com]

Jaime stared at Cersei in vague shock, and amusement. There was only one person he knew that got THAT tongue-tied around him. Strangely enough he no longer felt so bad about kissing someone that wasn't Cersei.

He was NOT going to examine that. No.

He continued staring at her for a minute, then burst into laughter. "Wench... what are you doing in my sister's body?"

[maid-brienne.livejournal.com]

His laughter brought them back to the status quo. Brienne felt at once disappointed and relieved: relieved that they were on familiar ground; disappointed that the kissing was over. Forever. Obviously. Since he knew she was really the ugly freakish maid of Tarth in disguise, and that would be enough to put anyone off, no matter how she might look temporarily.

Her eyes downcast, veiled by Cersei's heavy lashes, she looked what Cersei would have looked like if Cersei were capable of being convincingly demure around Jaime, which would have been never.

"I'm -- I'm sorry," she managed to stammer out.

[jaime-lackhand.livejournal.com]

There must be something about Kojiro's little shake-up that's making everyone act a little odd. Or perhaps it's just the fact that Cersei is looking demure (and something in the back of Jaime's head is saying 'This is how it should be. The wench is beautiful, and the whore is ugly. Like in the old stories'). But whatever it is, it has Jaime's blood pumping, and there's that look in his eyes; the "I want this" look.

"Brienne... shut up." Three simple words... and then he kissed her. Just to make that amply clear to everyone, he kissed BRIENNE. Not Cersei.

[maid-brienne.livejournal.com]

Brienne shut up.

And this time, she kissed back. Not expertly, for certain. It was clear she had no experience whatsoever. (After all, unlike some people, Brienne hadn't been fucking Lancel, nor Kettleblack, nor Moon Boy.) But she kissed him with the same seriousness she brought to ... just about everything, and especially anything where Jaime was concerned. Tentatively, her arms came up to embrace him. They were not really her arms. It didn't matter.

[jaime-lackhand.livejournal.com]

The kiss went on for several more minutes, a release of at least some of the tension that had built up between the two of them. Jaime's arm had wrapped around her waist, and pulled her closer to him.

Once the kiss eventually broke (possibly due to needing oxygen), Jaime looked down at his sisterBrienne and smirked.

"Come with me." He took on hand and began to walk down the corridor, trusting that she'd follow.

[maid-brienne.livejournal.com]

If Brienne's default mode had not been obedience, she might have protested. She never wanted that kiss to end. She was still completely certain that once it ended, that would be all.

But she followed, mutely, not knowing where he would lead her, just because she was Brienne, and because she did not think she could bear not to be in his company, not just yet.