The Order of Things

by hye-kyo

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.

Author's Notes: This falls within the storyline/universe in the fic Becoming and Being, some articulation of the events mentioned there but it's not really necessary to read that one (wow, shameless plugging).

Chapter One: Epistemic break

"""

He called her ugly the first time they met, which was expected since she was not exactly a typical beauty. She had hoped however that he was more than what his name makes him out to be, arrogant yes but a little more polite perhaps, but her little surprise came from his disregard of Catelyn Stark standing between them when he made his uncalled-for comments. She didn't really care though that time that he found her ugly, she had been called much worse before but she felt, oddly, a little disappointed that he was less than who she thought he was.

She could not connect the man who wrote the book praised as among the best auditing materials to the man Catelyn introduced her to. He was young when he wrote the book and it was easy to read and to follow and she had referred to it many times in the past, even after graduate school. There was hype around him, the intelligent, young and beautiful Jaime Lannister. She had attended some lectures he gave back in her university days and girls would swoon and surround him like moths. But the man she met in the Riverlands was not that man. He is golden and beautiful yes and he was older, much older (which she expected considering the number of years passed) but there was no fire in his eyes.

Catelyn was sending them to Roose Bolton at Harrenhal to check the accounts. There were some embezzlement charges raised against Bolton and they had to ascertain the accusations for, though Catelyn was wary of the man, he had been in service to the Starks for several years making her keen on disbelieving the charges.

They reached Harrenhal some days after their initial meeting. They met in the departure lobby of the airport where he made several offhanded comments on her physical attributes but surprisingly remained silent the entire flight.

"""

They were put in a company housing the minute they arrived, the remains of their first day left to themselves. It was a graciously-spaced house, much much bigger than the house she rents at the Riverlands.

"So how should we pass the time?" Jaime asked, head cocking to the side, sitting on a stool by the mini bar. He had unloaded his bags in a bedroom in the second floor he claimed as soon as he walked through the door.

"I'll look at the files," Brienne said, mostly to herself, moving to hide herself in her bedroom, the snide remarks he threw at her as soon as they hit the ground had gotten to her but she promised herself she would not let her temper (and his quips) get the best of her. She only needed space to breathe and gather her wits about her.

"You're no fun wench."

"My name is Brienne," anger instantly flared up at the term, pent-up irritation and frustration at being put together with him came bubbling up and in a second she crossed the distance between them, hands clenched at her side.

He almost laughed but did not though a sarcastic grin continued playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're much uglier up close."

She heaved, anger rising up to color her cheeks. "All my life men like you had sneered at me. And all my life I have been pounding men like you into the dust."

He laughed until he abruptly stopped, mouth setting into a thin line, "There are no men like me. Only me." And he stomped away.

"""

"Good morning," he said the following day, gesturing to the chair beside him. "Breakfast." She had not seen him for the rest of the day yesterday. She slipped out to get something to eat last night when she found that he was gone. She was not the only one unhappy with the arrangements.

"Thank you," she acknowledged and sat down, hauling her laptop bag on another chair. She wondered briefly at his politeness and furrowed her brows, knowing that some insults lie in there somewhere.

"You're quite a big girl so I am not sure if you need more." He pushed a plate towards her.

Ah, she felt the temptation to frown but she will not let him get to her. "I can manage," she bit into a piece of bread, spread the newspaper he had left shuffled on the table and flipped the pages, looking for the front page.

"Surely you can," he smiled, "You're Big Brienne. And Big Brienne pounds men into the dust."

She did not give him the satisfaction of looking at him. She located the front page underneath all the papers and began to read.

"You're no fun wench," he urged on, looking expectantly at her, waiting for another flare up at the term.

"As I have been told."

He settled back onto his chair, smiling, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"""

They were provided some staff members to assist them during the auditing. Jaime easily fell into small chats with the staff members and Brienne was glad for she was not really good at meeting new people and introducing herself. Catelyn usually did that for her. But she was glad nonetheless, she welcomed new company, Jaime had been grating on her nerves since they were introduced back at the Riverlands and she would like Jaime to stop making her the topic of all his quips.

"And this is Brienne," he said, a hand curling around her arm and she shot her head up involuntarily, "She doesn't speak much for she sometimes forgets she can. I apologize for her in advance." He was smiling at her and she felt the intense urge to smack the smile off his face.

"Hello, I am Brienne Tarth," she flicked her eyes from the man beside Jaime whose ID read Steelshanks to the older man on his other side whose name she caught as Qyburn, "I will be working with you. I am in your care."

"And I as well," she did not know whether Jaime spoke those words to her or to the two men beside him. He was looking at her like there was something he knew that she doesn't. She returned his grin with a scowl.

"See," he gestured to the two men, "She is as fierce as a bear. It will be a very interesting year, don't you think?"

Their response were all lost on her the instant Jaime reached out to touch her hand, a placating touch he placed on her wrist. She immediately pulled her hand away, eyes narrowing at him, daring him to do that again and suffer the consequences but he held up a hand in a sign of defeat though his green eyes clearly told her of his amusement.

"""

They met Roose Bolton some four months after they had arrived. He was in some business meeting at Winterfell he said and he needed to be back there soon. To say that he was not a pleasant man was an understatement—his deadpan face was as disturbing as it is (and his pink suit was disconcerting), but the way he seemed to drawl his words made her discomfited. Jaime took the lead into discussing things with him, knowing she was not someone who could use words well enough. She was good with numbers and discovering patterns but wordplay she had never mastered and she stood silently beside Jaime while Roose Bolton began negatively commenting on their output (or lack of) so far.

"I don't like that guy," Jaime muttered when the said man left, frowning, looking at the files.

"Yes," she nodded, typing away at her laptop, not really minding Jaime's chatter. She had grown used to his arrogance and his sharp words (and even at his use of the term wench to refer to her) over the course of sixteen weeks, though there were days when he still did get to her and she would flare up and threaten him with bodily harm. She had stopped calling him by his last name. He had insisted she call him Jaime but she found that her cheeks would burn a bit whenever she tried to test his name in her mouth, she simply stopped calling him by anything at all.

"But pink suits him."

His tone was dead serious and Brienne had to look at him to understand what he meant, some double entendre perhaps but he only blinked at her and a laugh slowly bubbled in her throat until she began chuckling. It felt weird to be laughing and it even felt weirder when Jaime joined her and began laughing as well. She wiped the tears from her eyes. "Sorry, sorry," but she can't keep herself from chuckling.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "That was fun wench. Didn't know you dig his type."

She fought another urge to laugh and failed. There was a voice at the back of head telling her to inform him that Roose Bolton was not her type though as to why that would matter she did not comprehend. "Stop it Jaime," she mouthed, clutching at her ribs.

He only watched her for a while, his eyes taking on an amused look until he said, "Jaime is not that hard to pronounce, isn't it?" A grin played on his lips while he twirled a pen in his fingers.

She stiffened, felt the beginning of a blush creeping at the corners of her cheeks and she quickly went back to her laptop, wiped the tears in her eyes and began typing. She knew he was watching her, a prickle on her neck informed her, and she chanced a glance at him only to be responded by a tilt of his head. He was smiling.

"Lunch wench," he stood up suddenly and grabbed her phone lying beside her laptop and began flicking through. She scowled at him, looked at the clock on her laptop screen, grabbed her wallet and took long strides to catch him by the ascending elevator. She reached him just as the doors open and he pulled her in, dropping her phone in her hands.

"What did you do?" she hissed, catching her breath, looking around. They were alone.

His only response was to pull out his phone and dial her number. The ringing blared loudly in the enclosed space and he laughed, warm and rich and she glared at him. Gesturing at his phone, she dropped her eyes to look at the vibrating phone in her hands to realize that he had changed his name in her phonebook.

Jaime the wench's type of guy.

"""

There had been many mornings like this, when his watching TV early in the morning would cause them to be late. He would be flicking through the channels, commenting on everything ("This is interesting," he gestured to lions mating in the screen, "Can you really do that in fifteen minutes?" referring to some cooking show) while she put away the plates and the cups. She was letting water run through the dishes when she noticed he stopped agitating the remote control. She peeked from the kitchen.

"Brienne," he called her, eyes till glued to the screen, "Look!"

"What?" she feigned annoyance when she called back but nevertheless went to sit on the arm of the couch, her hands soapy with suds.

"Look at the bear."

She frowned and rolled her eyes, anticipating a jest.

"See?" he turned to her, grinning, "It looks like you!"

She scowled yet again and sighed exasperatedly, threw some suds at him and went back to the kitchen. She heard him laughing as a growl erupted from the bear in the screen. She maybe big than most girls but she doesn't look like a bear, she is certain of that.

"""

But there had been many mornings like this too, when they would wake up so late and would not have time for TV, even breakfast.

"Hurry," she said, biting a toast on her way out. Jaime was yawning, his tie askew. She stopped by the doorway and involuntarily tugged at his tie to straighten it. Upon seeing Jaime becoming visibly surprised, she quickly turned around realizing her action, and mouthed how they are going to miss their bus if he doesn't hurry up, jogging to go on ahead of him, hoping to cool her burning face.

He was smiling and humming some tune looking like he was in on some secret he would not tell her when he reached the bus stop.