Chapter Text
The only moment Brienne truly felt like herself was when she was fencing, in her white gear, protected by a mask. Like that, she was not a giant woman with a plain face that everyone snickered at anymore. She was a sabre fencing professional, champion on her home island, and was a promising young sportsman with a great career ahead of her.
People didn't really believe in her in the beginning, thinking that she was too big and too slow for this intense sport, but her closest friends and family supported her, no matter what. Her father maybe didn't understand her passion, but he let her pursue it, buying her first expensive gear and encouraging her before each match.
Sansa was one of her closest friend, and she had appointed herself her emotional support and personal coach in addition to her official one, Sansa's dad Ned Stark. Although not understanding much of the rules of the sport, she had grown up learning the values and spirit of it, so she could always encourage her and her team. But she had a slightly irksome tendency to show her off anytime they would go out and meet people.
Brienne did not have a lot of friends, but those she had were close. She trusted them and she knew they loved her for who she was. They did not care about her homely body, they saw her true value with her honest and hardworking mentality.
It was with her friends and family in mind that she got out of the changing rooms, holding her sabre and mask in her right hand. She had a match in fifteen minutes. She would make them proud, but that meant concentrating on nothing but her adversaries, her weapon and her team.
Alongside Podrick Payne and Loras Tyrell, the brother of another friend, Margaery Tyrell, she would face the Kingsguard, which consisted of Bronn Blackwater, Sandor Clegane and the infamous Jaime Lannister.
It was not the first time that they had played against each other on the fencing pistes. They usually played against each other around once a month, and if the first time they won, the second time they were as likely to lose.
She was stopped once again in her wandering thoughts and her steps as she met the one of the subjects of her thoughts.
Jaime Lannister was casually leaning on the wall next to the door to the male changing rooms. He had his mask tucked under his left arm, and he was warming up his right wrist flicking his weapon up and down. He had the casual posture of someone who belonged in any place that mattered, or even owned some of them, this gym not being the exception.
The fully white equipment didn't show any muscular shape, but it was still very easy to imagine the lean body under it accompanying his handsome face.
When he looked up at Brienne, he was already sporting a smirk, as if he was born with it. "Well, isn't it Brienne of Tarth. I'm surprised to see your team is still in the competition. Aren't you getting tired of losing after our last two matches?"
"Jaime Lannister. It is my displeasure to meet you here, as always. And don't worry, we win more often than you think."
"This isn't a respectful greeting from someone who claims to be a true sportsman. Or should I say sportswoman ? You are one of the few women in the sport, but I'm not even sure we could call you a woman."
"I don't care what you think of me. And if you are not happy with how I greet to you, then don't talk to me in the first place. We will meet on piste soon enough. I'll be glad to be there. There's no need to talk when we play and I whip your ass and you will finally shut your mouth."
"True. But what if I liked talking to you ? It is so funny to see you squirm and getting all angry as soon as you see me, Tarth. But I wouldn't mind a little spanking too." he finished with a wink.
Brienne furrowed her brows. And as if on command, she began to flush with anger, but willed herself to relax her tense body. Like always, he was being sarcastic and irritating.
Since they had first met, Jaime Lannister seemed to have taken a perverse pleasure in bothering her as much as he could. She thought at first that he would stop like the other men who patted themselves in the back for their creative insults when calling her a cow unfit for fencing. They regarded the sport as noble and graceful, and deemed her unworthy of playing it.
They didn't dare repeat their thoughts out loud when she asked them to play in an amical game, and they inevitably lost.
But Jaime had kept on mocking her competition after competition, match after match. Maybe it was to try to throw her off her game, but he should have known by now that it didn't work. Her team did sometimes lose, but not without a fight.
When he would win, he would have that frustrating arrogant smirk that wouldn't leave his face no matter what she said or did. Not that she outright abused him verbally or attacked him physically outside the pistes - even if it came to her mind once or twice.
When his team would lose, his congratulations sounded like promises of revenge. His eyes would light with a gleaming fire and his hand would linger even longer than usual in her sweating one during their firm handshake at the end of the game.
"You have nothing to say, wench ? How disappointing."
Brienne snapped back to the present and hissed. "Don't call me that!"
"What do you want me to call you then? My dancing partner?"
"Wha- What do you mean? Did you hit your big head on a door while coming here?"
"When we are on the pistes, you are so at ease, and you seem to know exactly what to do in response to your opponent's moves. I love it when I'm the one playing against you, going back and forth, together. It's like a dance."
Brienne was at a loss for words again. It was the first time that Jaime Lannister had paid her a real compliment, even if it awfully sounded like a bad case of distasteful flirting. No, it was a taunt, because nobody in their right mind would mention Brienne and dance together.
The smirk on the man's face disappeared, giving way to a smaller, bashful smile. His green eyes seemed to shine with something Brienne couldn't pinpoint. "Brienne, I- I would like to try other dances with you."
"Excuse me? How dare you-" she sputtered, making a step towards him, outraged by the crude meaning behind his words.
"Sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that" he cringed. "It's just- Would you like to go on a date with me?"
The tall woman scoffed and her ire increased. Once again, she was made fun of. She should have known that the compliment was not innocent. He really wanted to throw her off her game, and before a semi-final, nonetheless!
"That's very funny, Lannister. I know what you're trying to do, and it won't work. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready before the match." Brienne said pushing past him.
Jaime was crestfallen by her words. Surely because he was disappointed his ruse did not work, Brienne thought.
"Wait! What about a bet? If I win the next match, you accept to go on a date with me. Otherwise, I will respectfully accept that you are not interested in me and leave you in peace."
Brienne stopped in her tracks, her back still turned to the man. She did not know how to respond. She was getting annoyed of her inability to speak because some overgrown frat boy had decided to annoy her.
On the one hand, she felt even more outraged at the thought of her being once again the object of a bet. She was not a thing to play with, Seven Hells! The last time, a bunch of boys during her teenage years had bet on who could take her virginity. Of course, when they were discovered, they did not refrain from throwing insults at her.
And now, Mister Jaime Lannister wanted to do a bet with her! It would be a sweet revenge for the other bet. She was confident her team could win this time, even if she did not know where this certitude came from. She could rarely refuse a challenge. And this one… She would finally get rid of Jaime Lannister when she won!
She almost wanted to retort that she could still be interested in him even if she lost, he shouldn't assume people's feelings like that, but the thought was preposterous.
"Fine, we will do this bet." Brienne heard herself saying instead.