Chapter Text
It is funny how you just know that you do not like someone, was the thought in Jaime’s head. He was back in Westeros, took a detour to the Rock to tie finally a few loose strands and found himself stranded somewhere between his past and his future. There was a storm, normal for this time of the year, and the dams in the Riverlands had overflowed, resulting to delayed trains. Most of the trains had been stopped the day before; he was hoping against hope to catch the one for today, he had bought a ticket, had been waiting in the crowded train station, feeling cold to his bones when an attendant came over the speakers and announced that no trains would be leaving today. The storm signals had been raised and they would be refunding all tickets bought for today at Counter 1. Passengers can also opt to exchange for a train for tomorrow first thing in the morning, the attendant added. He huffed and puffed and shuffled with the rest of the overly tired and grumpy crowd to Counter 1. His phone had been dead ages ago. He wondered if the wench had tried to call him or something. Knowing her, probably not, though he still did smile at the thought.
“Mr. Lannister?” was what shook him from his thoughts. He looked up; found a face that did not register anything in his brain. Was he supposed to know him, he was not sure and proceeded to raise a brow, a very Lannister gesture he was trying to get rid of at the insistence of Brienne. Too rude, she had said.
The man, a man younger than him, dark haired, bearded, spoke. Jaime assumed he had said his name, but there was too much noise, footsteps and voices and babies crying, babies crying, and Jaime narrowed his eyes to let the man know he had not heard a single thing.
“Hyle Hunt.” He almost shouted, the same time the babies stopped crying. Everybody looked, almost glared at the sudden sound. The man cleared his throat, and in a lower voice said, “Hyle Hunt. Hyle Hunt is the name Mr. Lannister.”
“Have we met?” Jaime asked, wondering why in the world someone he was certain he does not know and has never met would ever approach him and introduce himself. A fan? That almost made him snigger; he was used to hoards of girls introducing themselves to him at random places, but men? Well, he does not discriminate; just that, it was not his preference. Though you do like Brienne. He laughed at what his thoughts implied. He wondered why he had to defend himself to himself.
“I know you through Brienne. Brienne Tarth.”
His ears pricked up at the sound of her name. Too precious of a name to be spoken so randomly by someone. “Who are you again? How do you know Brienne?” He had been pushed out of the line for Counter 1, and damn it he will be getting his refund and his new ticket. That train ride was worth his life but now, right now there was something more important. Another baby cried, another followed. A woman shrieked, cursing at her kid for dropping something. Everyone was getting agitated, getting tired.
“Hyle hunt. And I—”
“Yeah. Hunt, Kyle Hunt,” he said with a wave of his hand, deliberately getting the name wrong, “How do you know Brienne?” He was building a headache, impatience and annoyance at the possibility that Brienne had known a man before him.
The man smiled, a sudden remorseful, almost tender look in his eyes which Jaime did not like one bit. “She is a very close…friend. I have known her since she was a young girl.” The platform was suddenly too stuffy, too crowded. Jaime fixed the collar of his shirt.
That actually did sound creepy, though Jaime knew this man was younger than him; the man had made it sound as if he and Brienne were years apart. He shook the thought out of his head; he does not want to go down that rabbit hole. Once, the age difference between him and Brienne had crossed his mind, but he does not care anymore. Age does not matter. Love does.
Wow, was what he thought. See what love does to you. He cleared his throat, looking at the clock at the wall behind the man. He was debating what to ask, what is the proof of your closeness? How are you able to say you are a close friend? When did you meet her? Why hasn’t Brienne mentioned anything about you? The last one actually hurt his heart, a sudden intake of breath and he could feel it, deep within him, an understanding that he does not know, does not know and was ignorant of many things about her. Whether she had friends growing up, how tall she was when she was a kid, whether she was born in the morning or during the night? Had she been this blond and adorable and so beautiful all her life?
“She spoke highly of you,” Hunt said; his accent hard to place. His voice sounded strange, a bit warped, as if he was saying something but meaning something else. He almost looked sad.
“Everyone does,” Jaime was fast to quip back, though the strangeness in the man never left his mind. “I am in a bit of rush Mr. Hunt,” he felt uneasy, as if there was something he knew he does not want to know. Something in between the man’s words, something unspoken and Jaime felt jealous, a different jealousy than what he felt when he knew about Renly, or about Connington, and he does not want to hear, whatever it was.
“I know this is a bit of a wrong timing,” the man combed through his hair with his hand.
Jaime gritted his teeth; the man was being too cryptic. “Brienne is in a good place now.” He suddenly blurted out, and suddenly wondering why. He knew there was something, something Jaime wished he does not know, yet he wanted to. This is about Brienne and whatever this was it has shaped Brienne into the Brienne that he wanted now, strong and willful and tender and so good, oh so good.
“That is good to know. I have not heard from her in a while.”
He almost let out a sigh of relief at that. But there were questions in his head. He did not dare blurt them out, he was much too prideful to admit to others he felt jealous, unsure, suddenly unsure of what he was to that big wench of a woman for he was Jaime Lannister and though he had gone through so much and had considered himself a changed man, there were things that will remain. He was a Lannister after all. He does not ask.
The man smiled insolently, “I think you might be wondering why I…I approached you.” He made a gesture to sit down somewhere but Jaime did not move.
“Are you with the Connington bastard?” He felt bile in his throat, one yes and this guy is dead. He does not care to any further extent if he would be unable to use his bad hand anymore but this guy was asking for his death.
This Hyle Hunt must have known what happened to Connington, and he took a step back, a step Jaime matched. He did not raise his arm in defense however, and stood his ground, “I know him but I am not with them.” That relaxed Jaime, if only for a little. Hunt cleared his throat, “I have known Brienne for a long time. Everyone in Tarth knows Brienne, she is this big lady of the island.”
Jaime did not know whether he meant it as an insult or as a complement. The tone of the man’s voice suggested the latter. Jaime unclenched his bad hand. There was something, something he could not name, a seriousness in the man’s tone, a seriousness that made him somehow edgy.
“I did know of the bet, participated in it. Started it actually.” He visibly steeled himself, putting an arm halfway up in guard of Jaime’s movements, “But she found out. She found out from me. I told her.”
“Why did you tell her?” There was something unnerving about this man. His rather brutish way of approaching him, nonchalant in the way he said Brienne’s name, admitted his wrong.
“Turned out I love her.” He said it as if it was an accident, something life-changing he had not foreseen, but something certain. “Thought it was just my conscience, seeing that I have known her since she was young, protective instinct you see, or so I thought. I began the bet, thinking what I was feeling was just too weird, she is a big woman and that alone is a bit different. But I told her and I realized my taunts and japes go a little bit deeper than what I thought.”
Jaime knew then he could have been Hyle Hunt and Hyle Hunt could have been him. Men like him and Hunt have hurt Brienne with words, words sharper than steel and more hurtful than knives. It had been years, years before now, when had he started seeing her? The blueness of her eyes, the freckles of her skin, her honor, her naivete, when had it all begun? But does it matter when? “So what?” He was successful in sounding uncaring, but in truth he cared, he cared a lot. Hyle Hunt lost her, and she is Jaime’s now. Whatever he would say will not change anything. Or will it?
“I apologized to her. Kept in contact after we sorted out everything. She is very kind and she forgave me, well that was what she said. I exchanged emails with her. Noticed she was mentioning you a lot,” he looked at Jaime, a piercing look that was almost threatening, “And I knew. Sort of knew that…”he trailed off, a look of uncertainty crossing his face. He took a gulp of air and continued, “I asked her, she said there was nothing between the two of you.”
Jaime raised a brow. He wanted then to correct him, there is something between us. Many things. But he could not, he had never been confronted by a person in love, a person in love was more overwhelming than a person in anger. He knew then, knew that this guy had known Brienne for far longer than he had and it made him weak, weak to assert that no, go ask Brienne again, she is an unassuming woman afraid to make assumptions about us, because she can assume and assume for all I care because for all you know there is something between the two of us, something far greater than what you would ever understand.
“So I wanted to go to Kings Landing, to right some wrong you see. And by luck I met you here.” He smiled, a confident sort of smile, though his eyes did waver.
He panicked inwardly at this moment, though he kept himself looking composed, undeterred, unintimidated. He knew what he was in Brienne’s life, sort of, she has been always afraid, afraid to take initiative, afraid to accept whenever he initiated. He could not remember a time when there was no Brienne, and this man may have grown with her but it does not change the fact that the last couple of years she had spent only with Jaime. He was uncertain about the extent of the correspondence that man claims, but he was certain that Brienne had been the only certain thing in his life, through it all. He would make sure to ask her what she wanted from him and if they would both like what she would say that would be perfect but if she would falter and say something uncertain he would make certain her response.
“I think what I am trying to say is that, seeing that you are some sort of a guardian to her, that was what she implied in her letters,” he arched a brow, daring Jaime to correct him, to which the latter pursed his lips, “I wanted to let you know about asking for her hand in marriage. Years can change a man you see, and I changed for the better.”
Jaime also did change at that moment. A group of people passed by them, footsteps loud in their ears. Jaime looked hard at him, seeing something he has never seen before. He knew, he knew that if he missed out one more day he would resemble this man, this man who was not quick enough to understand and to appreciate and to see, gods how blind! He could have been him, he could be this, and he was given this opportunity to see himself, of what he would be in the future if he failed. A visible tightening of his jaw, his knuckles white, “Consider yourself too late.”
Hyle Hunt gave a nod of his head, “We will see about that. “ And he turned on his heel, and disappeared into the crowd.
Jaime gritted his teeth, a low hum in his chest telling him to calm down, Brienne’s touch amiss, he knew then, as if a timer went off, an alarm in his head, a siren all around him, knew then that it was a race. It was a race to get to Brienne, to get to her the fastest. He has an advantage, he has a key to her place, but he must not get lenient. Never get lenient. He squeezed into the throng of people, determined to get on the train, any train regardless of the storm, of the flood, of the crush of bodies and crying babies. Health and sanity be damned.