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“You barely posted anything,” Margaery complains once their appetizers have been placed in front of them. “You got to spend a week in the sun ogling hot people in swimwear and I had to work.”

“I took pictures,” Brienne replies. “I just didn’t post most of them.” She’d posted two. Two is enough.

“Let me see,” Margaery demands.

Brienne hands over her phone without hesitation. The most scandalous thing on there is her work email with a number of unread messages she’s not going to face until tomorrow. If Margaery wants to scroll through the pictures of sunsets and the beach Brienne spent the last week at, she can be her guest.

“How many drinks with tiny umbrellas did you have?” Margaery asks.

“Enough.” She took a few pictures of the most instagram worthy ones to prove it. Margaery nods in approval as she skims past a fluorescent green one Brienne had consumed on her second day. It had looked better than it tasted, but she doesn’t tell Margaery that.

Brienne returns to eating her salad, wanting to finish it before her main course arrives.

Across from her, Margaery is showing no such urgency, ignoring her own appetizer in favour of continuing to skim through Brienne’s phone. She must be near the end of the week now. Brienne hadn’t taken that many pictures.

“Ooo what did you win?” Margaery asks, turning her wrist to show Brienne a close up of a ribbon.

“The paddleboard jousting tournament.”

“The what now?”

“You stand on a paddleboard but instead of a regular paddle it’s one with big foam pads on the end. You use it to try and knock the other people into the water before they do the same to you.”

“And you won?”

“Sometimes. There was a mini-tournament every afternoon.”

Margaery seems satisfied with this and keeps scrolling through her pictures as Brienne eats, occasionally asking questions about where Brienne was or how hot that beach goer in the background is.

“Wait. You beat Jaime Lannister at paddleboard jousting?!”

“Who?” She’d beaten Jaime at paddleboard jousting. She hadn’t known his last name.

“Jaime Lannister,” Margaery repeats, turning Brienne’s phone around to face her again, showing her the picture of her and Jaime and the guy who came in third that day standing on the podium on the shore. “The porn star.”

“He’s a porn star?”

“Um, yes?” Margaery says. “How do you not know this? He's huge.”

Brienne chokes on her water.

“Gods Brienne, get your mind out of the gutter. This is a family establishment. I meant he’s hugely popular,” Margaery amends with a smirk. “Not that he isn’t also—”

“Margaery!” Brienne says with a glance around the busy restaurant.

“I can’t believe you met Jaime Lannister. He and his twin are super famous.”

“His twin?”

“Yeah, his twin sister. Do you really not know about this?”

“Why would I know about this?” Brienne counters.

“Because they’re hugely popular? Even people who don’t know anything about porn know they’re the twincest couple.” Brienne feels a jolt of disgust and it must show on her face because Margaery continues. “And yes, that means exactly what you think it means.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Here it is. That’s why they moved to Dorne when they started releasing their sex tapes.”

“Ew.” Brienne puts down her fork. Her disgust is now a solid thing in her stomach.

“Yes, well. That’s part of the appeal.”

“How do you know about all this?” she asks.

“I had a girlfriend for a while who was really into them,” Margaery says, like everyone has an ex who was into niche porn. “But even before she told me more than I wanted to know, I knew who they were. I swear everyone knows about the Lannister twins featuring the self-appointed queen Cersei and Mr. I’ve-never-fucked-anybody-but-my-sister.”

“I didn’t,” Brienne says. “And that’s bullshit. He’s slept with other people.”

“Nope,” Margaery says. “Just his twin. It’s like, a porn legend. When they first started getting really popular there was a cash reward for anyone other than his twin who could prove they fucked him. Spoiler warning: no one could do it.”

“That doesn’t mean he never slept with anyone else,” Brienne says. “Just that no one tried to win a gross bet.”

“Trust me on this,” Margaery says with a wary sigh. “As someone who’s seen more of Jaime Lannister than you have. Dude’s in love with his sister. They’ve made a fortune banging each other. He’s spent years turning down all sorts of offers to expand his horizons. They’ve never even done a group scene.”

Brienne does not argue.


Margaery only mentions Jaime once more, after they’ve paid and are saying their goodbyes on the sidewalk out front.

“I can’t believe you beat Jaime Lannister at such a stupid sport,” she laughs. “You had a more exciting vacation than you thought!”


When Brienne gets home she does not google ‘Jaime Lannister’.

She’s spent the last 90 minutes convincing herself not to.

Margaery told her enough already. Too much. Brienne doesn’t need to add whatever the internet will tell her to the things she already wishes she didn’t know.


Less than twenty minutes later Brienne opens a private browser window.

It’s not that Brienne doesn’t believe Margaery. She does. But she still wants to know…

It takes less than two seconds to confirm that Jaime is a porn star. A famous one. A very famous one. He doesn’t have an official twitter account, but his twin sister Cersei does. Or rather, their website does.

(Brienne isn’t going to visit their website.)


Their website is

(Brienne is absolutely not going to visit their website.)


Everything Margaery told her is true. Jaime is infamous for his incestuous sex tapes and for the fact that he’s apparently never had sex with anyone else. (Margaery was right about the reward for anyone who could pull him away from his sister. She was wrong about it being a thing of the past. The account offering a reward is still active and updating regularly.)

There’s an article about him and his twin from five years ago. Apparently once upon a time someone had compromising security footage of them. Instead of caving to the blackmail, they filmed and released their own sex tape and the rest is history.

There’s a screenshot of the security footage (It’s embedded in the article. Brienne does not go looking for it.) It’s black and white and grainy. Brienne can barely tell it’s two people, much less who they are or what they’re doing.

By contrast, the screenshot of Jaime and his twin from that first sex tape, even cropped as it is, leaves no room for doubt.


Brienne closes the tab.

And clears her browsing history.

Then she closes her laptop and tries to put the whole thing behind her.


She takes a long shower but she’s still mulling it over. She doesn’t want to be, but she is. The guy she spent half of her vacation pummelling with a foam jousting lance fucks his sister. On camera. A lot. That much is indisputable. She didn’t know it at the time, but she knows it now. The stuff about him never being with anyone else is obviously bullshit, but it’s a huge part of his porn persona. She saw enough comments to know that love it or hate it, people are invested in his perceived commitment to his twin. She doesn’t want to be thinking about all of this as she rinses conditioner out of her hair, but she is.

She doesn’t want to be thinking of Jaime at all.


By the time Brienne has dried off and climbed into bed she has landed resolutely on not giving a fuck and she is determined to stay there.

So she fucked Jaime Lannister on vacation.

So what.