Chapter Text
“Where are you taking me, Jaime Lannister?” Brienne called out to the man leading her out of the gallery by the hand.
Jaime flashed a mischievous grin. “You’ll see. No questions.” His eyes traveled the long length of her and darkened. She had felt his hungry gaze all night at the opening, ever since she stepped out in the simple, long sleeved sapphire blue dress with a deep plunging v neckline that only a woman as flat chested as her could pull off.
They got into her pickup truck, Brienne in the passenger seat. It had taken a little while for Jaime to adjust to her old beater after driving luxury cars all his life – its mysterious noises, its protests when there was change of gear – but he managed to subdue the old beast.
Brienne felt incandescent, a thrumming in her veins. She’d just attended the opening to her own solo show at the legendary gallery Roseheart. She felt immensely proud to see her paintings, created by her own hand from the vision in her own mind, on the gallery walls. Hours upon hours of work and dedication, and there she was, standing amongst her own creations, amongst a crowd of beloved friends. Even Asha made her way back from Pike, and so did Oberyn and Ellaria, all the way from Dorne. Of course, her best friend Jon was there, and the look of admiration he gave her made her entire being glow. Jaime was always nearby, looking at her anxiously at times, making sure she was comfortable, making sure she ate and drank something. The looks he gave her – full of love and pride and warmth, could have fuelled the loneliest nights.
Jaime stopped the truck at the cliffs near the Red Keep observatory – it was late, and there were few cars on the road, and no one around as they stepped out of the truck. Brienne gasped; the view of King’s Landing from this height was spectacular – the lights of the city dotted the darkness, as the sky above them shone with unusually bright stars.
“Jaime! This is beautiful!” Brienne turned to him, her eyes excited and shining. It felt like the world lay at their feet.
“The best view of the city,” Jaime said, moving toward the back of the truck. He climbed in, rummaged about, and laid out a few thick blankets and quilts on the bed of the truck, along with a pillows and cushions he had retrieved from somewhere. He lifted another blanket to reveal a cooler that he’d hidden.
“What’s this?” Brienne looked at him curiously.
Jaime shrugged. “It’s nothing special.” He helped her up on the bed of the truck and they settled themselves to sitting side by side. The summer night was comfortably cool, and a gentle breeze caressed their skin.
He took out a bottle from the cooler, and poured its contents into plastic tumblers. “Non-alcoholic, I’m afraid. Driving.”
Jaime smiled softly at her.
“To Brienne of Tarth, and her amazing art,” Jaime declared, raising his plastic cup in a toast. Brienne could not contain the redness in her cheeks as she drank.
“And to us,” Jaime said softly, looking at her with affection. She raised her cup, taking a large sip, and felt a part of her melt inside. It took some getting used to, being in a real relationship with Jaime. He was at times over-the-top in his love and admiration for her – the way he looked at her all the time, with those soft, lustrous eyes, his mouth tipped into a smile – always made her heart skip a beat.
“How do you feel after your first exhibit?” He took off her high heels and began to massage her aching feet. Brienne let out a little moan.
She grinned. “Honestly, I’ve never felt so satisfied. It feels like I won the lottery or something. To see my paintings on the walls! To have so many good friends come to support me. I feel...full. With love. With happiness. With everything.” She laughed into the sky. Gods, could she be happier?
She gave him a curious look. “Did you feel the same way after your first solo show?”
He grimaced. “Gods, that was fifteen years ago. I remember it though. It was a bad night – the opening went fine, and I was happy about that, but I remember being disappointed that Cersei didn’t come. I had looked for her, watched for her at the door all night.” Jaime shook his head. “I was a real self-absorbed asshole back then – much more than I am now, that is.” He gave a forlorn grin.
Jaime sighed and stretched himself out in the bed of the truck. Brienne finished off her drink and joined him. Immediately, his arm went around her as she laid her head on his shoulder.
Above them, the stars blazed, points of light surrounding them and filling the entirety of their vision.
“Gods, it’s beautiful.” Brienne smiled into his neck, smelling the familiar sandalwood of his soap. “Thank you for bringing me out here.”
His other hand stroked her soft hair. “I figure this is better than another party or a bar.”
She propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at Jaime. His green eyes looked entirely dark, except for the light of the stars that were reflected in his eyes. She kissed him languidly, taking her time to taste him and adjust to his eager responses. Her hands slowly explored his muscled body, beautiful in a new suit that was the same blue to match her dress. He unzipped her dress and exposed her skin, pale and glowing, almost luminescent. She undressed him with utter seriousness, marveling each time a golden expanse of his skin was revealed.
Jaime felt unworthy to have this vibrant, lovely goddess in his arms. He felt blessed to be kissing Brienne, licking her skin, sucking her hard and prominent pink nipples; when he tasted her, his mouth to her cunt, he felt infinitely blessed to feel her writhing and bucking under him as she broke apart and flooded his tongue.
The stars were all she saw and all she felt when Jaime entered her, thrusting at first with a deliberate slowness as this thick cock filled her. She gasped and rocked up into him, her long legs wrapped around him, and soon his trusts were urgent, hard and deep. He moaned into her skin, his breath fast and hot. He locked eyes with her as she came, bringing him along with her as her cunt clutched his cock and he shuddered into her, and Brienne saw light and stars around her, and Jaime’s shining eyes above her, and brightness overcame her whole being.
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By all accounts, both exhibits at the Roseheart and King’s Landing Museum of Modern Art were successes, extremely well attended by the elite of the art world, journalists, and curators from throughout Westeros. The art world was surprised to find something new and original in their field. Brienne was lauded for her subtle, minimal abstract expressionist paintings of much depth. All of her paintings sold within a week (a few to Jaime), and she was regarded as one of the brightest stars of contemporary art.
However, what thrilled Brienne most was that their collaboration from Paradise Redeemed was later given a permanent place in the Museum of Modern Art; of course, since neither Jaime nor Brienne would sell the paintings, it was on permanent loan. She was incredulous at this news because the paintings now hung amongst the great artists who had inspired her when she visited King’s Landing when she was a child, days which she remembered with a fondness that was prominent as her most treasured memories with her father.
The fact that Jaime and Brienne were now officially together made the buzz at the shows even more wild. Many of the people who attended the openings took credit for the couple, namely both Olenna and Margery Tyrell; Tyrion and Tommen; Oberyn Martell, and of course, Jon Snow, who deserved the credit perhaps more than the rest. Wherever they went, there was an energy around the two of them that was so palpable that everyone around them could feel it. If electricity hadn’t yet been discovered, it would have surely been noticed between Brienne and Jaime.
The article on Brienne (along with a few pictures of Jaime) in Art Moderne magazine exposed her to even a higher echelon of artists and cemented her rising star status. Nearly overnight, she had made a great deal more money than she’d ever had in her life, and she gained a little piece of art world fame; in gossipy circles, she was also known as the rare woman who captured the elusive heart of Jaime Lannister.
Brienne was incredulous at her quick success. She looked in the mirror and saw the same crooked nose and thick lips and gigantic frame - but instead of thinking she was ugly, like she would have done years ago, she now thought that she was at least interesting looking. Seeing herself through the eyes of people who loved her - fellow artists who inexplicably were drawn to paint and photograph her - made her think about herself in a new light. Her face and body on a canvas allowed her to see the lines and angles of her body, the curves and the flattering way light and shadow landed on her flesh and muscles. As the view of her body changed, so grew her belief in herself. Whereas the Brienne of two years ago wouldn’t have felt deserving of the love of the famous Jaime Lannister, she now felt that they had both earned the gift of being loved, and loving each other fiercely in return.
Being together had to be a conscious decision on both of their parts, not just the result of combustible sexual chemistry; they couldn’t just fall into one another’s beds like they did when they first got together when they cocooned themselves in their studios and away from the world. No, being together took time and planning. Tommen was a huge part of Jaime’s life now, and Brienne had to make room in her life for him, just as he had to make room in his life for her. Then there was always the spectre of Cersei in the background, and there would be no getting rid of her, as she was, after all, the boy's mother.
Brienne knew she might have moments where she wondered if Jaime would go back to his cousin as he did over two years ago, but she knew that to trust someone was to take that risk, just as it was risky to love someone and allow that person to love you in return. Above all, she had to trust how she felt when she was in Jaime’s arms, how she felt when he looked into her eyes when he moved inside her, how he trembled when he burst and fell apart with pleasure when he was under her.
Jaime could not believe his profound luck when Brienne decided to give them a second chance. He had expected to love her and pine after her from afar, celebrating her successes from the vantage of his lonely bed. He knew he had not done much to earn back her trust and love, and yet Brienne was generous and big-hearted and forgiving enough to believe in him and open her heart to him once again. He was already in awe of Brienne, but her capacity for love astonished him even more.
He too found success with his recent shows: A Year, the paintings of the thicket that he had painted over the seasons gained national attention; and Winter, the small series of seven paintings of Brienne in a hotel bedroom done in his highly realistic style garnered more than a few features in art magazines. He was lauded for this experimentation in style, along with originality of subject matter. The publication of the catalogue of his retrospective works was postponed to make room for the inclusion of these new works.
There were several paintings he would not sell, one amongst them was his portrait of Brienne in the Winterfell hotel room, which hung prominently in his studio. Jaime thought it was the painting that convinced her to come back to him, though Brienne laughingly denied it, saying no painting had that much power. Nonetheless, Jaime would spend hours gazing upon it, especially when she was away in Tarth and away from him.
Brienne had thought that when she first fell in love with Jaime over two years ago that it would consume her entirely, body and soul; in fact, the love and the subsequent heartbreak nearly destroyed her and made her retreat back into her shell. But choosing to love Jaime again gave her a great deal more power and independence. She was a little older and a lot wiser. Her love for him was still at times overwhelming but now it was a conscious thing. It was true that they could not predict what the future would hold for her and Jaime. But Brienne lived each day, and loved him each day, and she thought he loved her just as much.
Both of them still craved their own bit of freedom. She returned to live in the apartment above Jaime’s studio, while Jaime mostly lived in his apartment downtown with Tommen. Of course, there were frequent sleepovers for all three of them, but Brienne thought it was good that they both had their own separate spaces. She had learned too much to give up her independence entirely; besides, having time alone was crucial to both of their creative processes. Brienne was in Tarth for months of the year, and Jaime would go with her most of the time. The sea found its way into his newer paintings.
Tommen loved Tarth, and Brienne was the one who taught him to swim. He had been a little scared of the wildness of the ocean, but she had calmly led him into the water, and held his body afloat as he kicked and waved his arms. She marveled at his little body, growing every day, stretching out into the embrace of the sea, and how he trusted her enough to place himself in her arms. Soon enough, he was confident to swim out of her steadying hands, and she could not contain her whoops of joy as he paddled away from her. She knew she was not Tommen’s mother and would never really be, but she had gained something more: his trust and his love. His heart had not yet been permanently twisted from cruelties of life, though gods knew the boy had experienced his share of loss. His affection and soul remained pure, and Brienne felt it a duty to protect him. Under the Tarth sun, Tommen soon grew tanned and lost a little of his adorable pudginess.
As he sat on the beach, sketchbook in his lap, trying to capture the movement of his son and his Brienne in the water, Jaime thought that he had never been so happy. As a young artist, he never thought that perfection could exist, yet he strove for it in his paintings any way. But as a man, having grown and suffered and lived, he thought that perfection was a subjective thing, not an objective standard at all, and now he felt that perfection was in him as it was in Brienne. Together they made perfection. It existed every day when he was with her.
Jaime was on Tarth with his son and his love Brienne. He finally saw what Brienne’s blue eyes looked like against the sapphire of the sea. There was no contest. No sea could contain the brightness and the love that Brienne’s eyes contained. Or how, as he splashed into the water next to them, those eyes widened and how they reflected the blue of the sky and behind them, the stars.
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It had been Jaime’s idea of course, to tape the canvas fabric onto the floor. He had brought out the acrylic paint, big jars of them, and splattered random patterns of blues and whites and yellows onto the canvas. Brienne was embarrassed to admit that she had been much too easy to convince in this venture. Anything for art, amongst other things, she said to herself. From then, it was all too easy.
Jaime stripped her at a leisurely pace, licking and kissing each expanse of exposed skin so slowly that buy the time he pulled down her underwear to kiss her mound and sex, her knees were shaking from want and yearning. He took his own clothes off without much fanfare, leaving him glistening and golden, his cock jutting out, thick and long. She wanted to kneel and worship his cock but he shook his head and pulled them to kneeling on the canvas instead, their knees loudly squelching on the paint. The paint and the canvas, of course, was an irrelevant thing at that specific time, because both of them were too absorbed in each other, too busy kissing and tasting and licking. Jaime moaned loudly when she wrapped her hand around his thick, hot length. She gasped when he sucked at her nipples and teased her clit in small intense circles, making her quiver and come in a few short minutes.
Jaime grinned into her neck and lowered her to the floor, and she winced from the cold of the paint. He thrust into her in one hard stroke, making her arch her back and groan. She wrapped her legs around him and he fucked her even deeper. His cock was warm and filled her, and with every thrust, he was grinding into her clit, sending little shocks through her whole body. She held him and flipped him, which made his eyes grow wider and darker with lust; his cock jumped inside her. She was straddling him and as she ground into his pelvis, he rolled his eyes back in pleasure as she used his cock unabashedly to stimulate her sensitive and swollen nub.
“Jaime, Jaime, Jaime,” Brienne cried, and soon her cunt was contracting all around his cock and her whole body was trembling.
Jaime stared at her in awe and sat up, holding Brienne’s hips as he pumped his hips hard and wildly up at her, his cock desperate and swollen and ready for release. He kissed her and felt the pebbles of her nipples rub against the sparse hairs of his chest, and he held her tight. He looked into her blue eyes, saw the sea and the sky and the stars and above all Brienne, and he came, his whole body shuddering as he spurted forcefully into her cunt in a few last desperate and hard thrusts.
Exhausted, they fell back into the canvas, breathing hard.
When they came back to themselves, they took one look at one another and laughed hysterically. Gods, they were covered head to toe with paint. Blue, green, white, and yellow paint was everywhere, in every crack and cranny of their bodies. When Brienne sat up, Jaime’s copious seed flowed down her thigh and onto the painting.
Jaime smirked. “Mixed media.” Brienne pretended to hit him on the arm, but she giggled. Mixed media. Gods, it was rather funny, as she imagined the very official description of the painting: Acrylic, Mixed Media on cotton canvas.
Thankfully, their faces were bare, and Brienne leaned in for a kiss, which Jaime happily gave. She had brought flip flops for them, thank goodness, so the concrete floors were saved. They showered together to get the paint off, and it took much longer than anticipated because bits of dried acrylic paint were difficult to get off, and of course Jaime had to fuck her against the shower wall, one leg wrapped around his waist as he easily slid into her slick, warm cunt.
When they were finally clean, pink from the shower and only tiny bits of paint left in their hair, Jaime and Brienne stood in front of their painting, expressions thoughtful.
“Hmmm.” Jaime titled his head to change the angle of his vision. He looked at her, an eyebrow raised.
“It looks...it looks…” Brienne was at a loss for words.
“Like two people fucked on some paint on a canvas?” Jaime supplied, his tone droll.
Brienne nodded. She bit her lip and frowned. “It looks messy.”
Jaime pulled her to him and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Back to the drawing board, wench.”
She stared at him, suspicion on her face. “Jaime. You didn’t make this painting thing up just so we could have sex on paint, did you?”
Jaime laughed and walked away.
“Jaime!”
He held out a hand for her. “Come, Brienne. Let’s go upstairs. After all that...uh...painting, I could use a nap and some cuddling. Couldn’t you?”
She narrowed her eyes at him but took his offered hand. He kissed her on the lips, making her scowl disappear.
“Maybe it’ll look different when it’s dried or stretched on a frame?” Brienne said hopefully. She was determined to save the painting.
He threw back his head and laughed. “I dearly hope so. I, for one, would have to have our sex juices proudly displayed in the Museum of Modern Art.”
Jaime laughed even harder as Brienne admonished him with a shocked but all too endearing look.