A/N: I wanted to have this finished for the Men's Finals, but sadly I got sick, so it's a bit late. This is my first attempt at Jaime and Brienne, and honestly I've only seen bits and pieces of GoT which is why this is an AU and not a Canon Divergence fic.


The sun beamed down on the fresh green grass, hot and bright. The air was stale with the scent of male sweat and if he wasn't wrong, strawberries? It was a comforting scent that told him he was home, back where he should be. Back on the solid earth of center court. Winning. Ruling. Refusing to be beaten, not by the Stark whelp, and certainly not by the limitations of his own body.

Jaime swung the racket, grunting when it connected, sending the yellow tennis ball rocketing back towards Robb Stark. He watched, chest heaving painfully as the younger man hurried to repel his attack.

Much like himself, Stark was from a family of successful tennis champions, with two sister making their names on the women's circuit, a younger brother at the top of the junior division and both parents being treble grand slam champions.

The blood and legacy of Robb Stark had set him on a collision course with Jaime from the moment he'd picked up a racket. While the Lancaster's weren't as large of a family, they were equally, if not more, formidable. With his father being a four time grand slam champion and his sister being at the top of the women's circuit. It was a rivalry the press liked to play up. - Not that their tales of a long standing feud were all lies. Jamie had made no secret of his dislike of Robb Stark.

Rumours surrounded Jamie like flies around shit. His murderous blood feud with the Starks, like they were in some ridiculously historical drama. The fact was they were two tennis legacies, with a natural rivalry. It was heightened somewhat by the fact that the Stark's had never forgiven him for the accident that had ended young Bran's career.

The accident regrettably ignited rumours surrounding the dark secret of his incestuous relationship with his twin sister, Cersei. It was something his father had pulled every string to cover up for years. Of course no one spoke of it to their faces, they knew better. However it was impossible to ignore the judgemental looks.

Thankfully the rumours he died down over the past two year, mostly because he and Cersei were rarely seen together. His father's orders. Jaime had spent the past two years training at their country house; King's Landing, while Cersei trained at her late husband's estate; Stormlands.

The loud crack of the ball connecting with Robb's racket had Jaime scrabbling across the court, but he wasn't quiet quick enough. The ball hitting the earth, sending up a cloud of dirty and chalk. Swearing under his breath Jaime prepared for Robb's serve, his heart racing. He circled his right wrist, testing it. There was a dull throb pulsing through it, but Jaime refused to call it quits. Not now. Not with the final win looming. It had taken him too long to work his way back.

Bobbing anxiously on the balls of his feet, he gripped the racket tightly and watched with a narrow gaze. Robb took a step back, bouncing the ball a few times. When he stepped forward again, Jaime held his breath, readying himself for the serve.

Robb tossed the ball high, swing his racket it at. The ball was propelled across the net at high speed. Once again Jaime scurried across, swing his arm back then forward with as much force as he could muster. The ball flew back and forth, both men hurrying across the court to parry their opponent serve until finally, and much to Jaime's frustration, the ball landed on his side of the net.

As the umpire called the point and the set, Jaime marched angrily over to his seat, snatching up his towel to wipe furiously at the sweat rolling down his face. He cast a side glace over to Robb, who was sat in his chair, taking a drink and recomposing himself. The young man lifted his hand after putting his bottle away, the crowd clapping excitedly. Jaime never got a welcome like that, he was considered the brooding villain of the piece, despite having never been giving any true justification for being cast in that rule. - Except maybe for that one time he had punched an umpire, which had gotten him a two year suspicion, but he'd been young and volatile, and quite frankly the bastard deserved it, having insinuated he was going to throw the match in his opponent's favour. He'd gotten at suspension, the umpire had gotten a criminal record, and all in all, it was a good day's work.

Jaime scanned the crowd watching him, hovering intensely over the reserved seats for friends and family. His heart leaping at the sight of a familiar thatch of short blonde hair and strong features. It was strange how intense his reaction was to a woman he'd met barely three weeks ago, especially when their relationship hadn't exactly begun in the best of circumstances. In hindsight Jaime was rather ashamed of his behaviour back then, however her reactions were so delicious, so enchanting, they'd swept him off his feet before he was even aware of it.

Jaime wasn't one for fairy-tale, he didn't believe in love at first sight, but somehow Brienne Tarth had proven him wrong.

Three Week Ago

Eastbourne

"Is that a woman?" Jaime frowned, looking out over the women court.

Bronn scoffed besides him. "Brienne Tarth."

"I thought she retired?" Jaime muttered, watching as she volleyed the ball back to her opponent.

"She did, but she's been back on the circuit since last summer."

Jaime nodded, his gaze never leaving her. His heart did an odd little skip as Brienne skidded to catch the serve.

"She's good." Bronn observed. "Might give your sister a run for her money."

Jaime nodded thoughtfully. "Cersei loves a challenge."

As the crowd let up a cheer, Brienne solemnly moving to shake her opponents hand in conciliation and Jamie turned away, heading back to the locker rooms to prepare for his own match.

Jaime didn't see the beast of a woman again until he arrived at one of the empty courts to warm up and found her firing off serves. He hovered by the court gate for a few minutes, just observing the woman move. She was an excellent player, probably better than Cersei. - Actually, as much as he loathed to admit it, she might even give him a challenge. Not beat him, but give him a good match.

The thought of going up against a strong opponent sent a thrill of excitement in him and he stepped forward, dropping his bag by the fence. The air echoed with the crack of another serve. When the ball crashed loudly into surrounding fence, Jaime strolled confidently over to take up the position opposite the woman.

"What are you doing?"

Jaime shrugged, twirling his racket in his hands and swaying on his bend knees. "I need to warm up." he shrugged.

"I have the court for another thirty minutes." Brienne informed him flatly, racket cradled in her hands.

Jaime shrugged once more. Straightening, he raised a brow. "Don't tell me you're afraid to face me? Aren't you always rambling on in the press about how women, given the chance, would wipe the floor with the best male players? Well, I'm at the top."

"Was." Brienne corrected him. "Robb Stark currently ranking top. - Last I checked, you were forty-fifth."

Jaime clenched his teeth. "Not for long." he vowed. "Once I win Wimbledon, I'll be back in my rightful place."

Brienne stared at him, unconvinced.

Jaime tilted his head, really looking at her. "You know, you're much uglier in the flesh."

Brienne's nostrils flared minutely, but she said nothing. Her expression flat and cool, unaffected.

"Don't tell me I've hurt your feelings? I'm not the first man to call you ugly, surely?" he watched as the woman's jaw ticked, obviously biting back a retort. "Come on, you can tell me." She remained stalwart and Jaime sighed. "Has anyone ever told you, you're as boring as you are ugly?"

"You will not provoke me to anger." Brienne finally said through gritted teeth, not so much as shifting her gaze from her page.

"Wont I? You sure?" Jaime grinned, turning his back to her and grabbing one of her discarded balls. When he turned back she was practically vibrating, though she did an excellent job at hiding it. Cersei could never be that cool head in face of an insult. "Look at you. You're ready to chop my head off." he continued to press.

Breathing heavily though her nose, Brienne braced her feet. Jaime grinned inwardly. "If I beat you, you'll never speak to me again."

Jaime grinned brightly, scoffing. "And if I win, what will you give me?" he winked. "A kiss? I bet you've never kissed a man before."

"Time." The umpire called, and Jaime tore his gaze away from the stands, getting to his feet. He shook his head. He needed to keep his head in the game. He needed to win.

Jaime heaved a deep breath as the ball hit the tuff next to him, cursing under his breath. He kicked angrily at the grass and rolled his wrist once more. It was beginning to throb, and he could feel it swelling against the towelling sweat band. The match had gone into its fourth set. The court was a buzz with chatter from the audience.

He nodded at the ball girl, who bounced him two fresh ball before stepping back against the wall. Slipping one into the pocket of his shorts, Jaime stepped up to the white line, bouncing the ball three times before tossing it into the air and whacking it.

He watched anxiously as it sailed over the net, holding his breath as Stark hurried to hit it back.

"Out. Game, Lannister. Two game all. Final set." The Umpire announced.

Jaime exhaled, padding over to his seat and reaching for his bottle of Robinson's orange. He chugged down a quarter of it and took his seat, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He desperately wanted to rub his wrist, but doing so would show Stark he was struggling. Biting his lip, he stealthily rotated it again and lift his eyes to the box, and Brienne.

She was watching him intensely, her brows knotted with worry. Jaime wondered if that worry was for him, or for Stark. He hoped and prayed it was for him.

When he'd started back down this road, he'd done it out of pure arrogance. Desperate to recapture his glory days, and once again be the most talked about player in the world. Then Brienne happen. Brienne and her cold dismissive attitude. She's put him right in his place. Ripped away his mask and exposed the truth like no one else had ever been able to do. - Had ever wanted to do.

Three Week Ago

Eastbourne

Jaime watched her, waiting for the serve. The score was 15 - 30, and like hell was he going to let her beat him. Never. He would not be beaten by a woman. "You move well, for a beast of a woman." He announced as she raise her racket to serve once more. "Though, I'd advise you not to grimace when you serve to the left, like that. It gives the game away."

The ball sailed far off to his left, and Jaime bit back a curse. To his surprise Brienne wasn't smirking or grinning at her triumph. It seemed she never enjoyed the victory, something Jaime couldn't understand. What was the point in winning if you didn't enjoy it?

They played another two sets, battling one another with a fury that Jaime hadn't felt in a very long time. Even playing Cersei didn't get his blood going as it was now.

"You're good," he panted. "Graceless, but good"

Brienne lifted a brow at him and swung furiously, sending the ball within inches of his head. Jaime grinned across at her, he was finally hitting a nerve. "Good. I was beginning to think there was no passion in you."

"I have skill."

Jaime shrugged nonchalantly. "True, but you need passion too. A desire to win at any cost."

"Like you? King slayer."

Jaime took a slow breath. After almost twenty years on the circuit it amazed him that the title still clung to him like a bad smell. If only they knew?

"Looks like your woman got the best of you" laughed an unfamiliar voice.

Jaime turned to see two men hovering by the gate, bags over their shoulders.

"If you call that a woman." The other man scoffed.

Jaime glanced at Brienne out of the corner of his eye and found her glowering at them, a look of indication and murder in her gaze. A look he'd been trying to ignite all morning. She started forward and Jaime hurriedly moved between them.

"We enjoy getting out juices flowing." He replied jovially.

The two men chuckled and he could hear Brienne growling behind him. Furiously she shoved past him, grabbing her bag and marching out of the practice court, shooting hard unwilling glares at the two invaders.

Jaime huffed out a laugh, which was as fake as the tallest guys tan and grabbed his stuff. "Enjoy the court, boys."

"Enjoy the beast." One laughter.

"She's probably not even a woman." Scoffed the other.

Jaime's nostrils flared. He bit back a retort, jaw clenched tightly as he left, listening to their jibs at Brienne's expense. He was surprised by the overpowering desire to defend the woman's honest. A feeling he didn't think he'd ever felt for anyone before. - Not even Cersei. She needed no man's chivalry. He curled his fingers tightly as he marched hurriedly away. At any other time he'd have laid the pair out cold, but hr couldn't risk a suspension this close to the final.

And it wasn't as if they were the only ones to joke and insult Brienne Tarth, hell he'd done the same thing not two hours ago. No what surprised him was how much he wanted to beat the shit put of them for it.

Jaime quickly caught up with Brienne as she stormed her way through the tennis club. She seemed completely oblivious to his presence, her gaze fixed ahead of her, and her knuckles white around the bag on her shoulder, racket in her right hand. He wondered if she was imagining beating him with it.

He was about to break the icy silence when she beat him to it. "All my life I've been hearing of Jaime Lannister. What a brilliant player." she cut him a dismissive look. "You were slower than I expected." she scoffed. "And more predictable."

Jaime ground his teeth, matching her pace easily as they passed the women's changing rooms. "I've been recovering from a wrist injury."

Brienne shot him a disgusted look, rolling her eyes. "And I'm a woman. I was still beating you."

"You were not beating me. It was a tie before we were rudely interrupted."

Brienne huffed a cool detached laugh, lifting her chin. "Maybe you were as good as people said. Once. - Or maybe people just love to over praise a famous name." with that she picked up her pace, leaving Jaime to stare after her. A small smile, curving at his lips.

It was another three days before their paths crossed again. Jaime sat on the table, tired and aching more than he thought he'd ever ached in his life. He hissed as the Bronn massaged his wrist.

"You've been working this too hard. I told you not to overdo it."

"I need the practice."

Bronn rolled his eyes, reaching for the tub of NTA approved anti-inflammatory. "You need to be able to play, is what you need." he grunted. "Unless you've given up on regaining you ranking."

Jaime shot his couch a disparaging look.

"I'm tired of this conversation Bronn, so please, shut up." he hissed again as the other man rubbed a little too hard at the joint, sending a sharp bolt of pain up his arm. "One of these days, Bronn. One of these days." he warned.

"Oh, sorry." an all too familiar voice interrupted. "I was looking for the physio."

Jaime turned sharply, a smile instantly spreading across his face. "Well, if it isn't my lady. Don't tell me you're hurt?" he grinned.

Brienne glowered at him, her gaze narrowing before flickering to his wrist.

"It nothing." Jaime dismissed, defensively.

Bronn scoffs, getting to his feet, and walking over to the sink. "Qyburn and Luwin are attending to another player, is there anything I can do for you?" he asked respectfully, turning back to face her while drying her hand.

Brienne looked between the two men. "No, thank you."

"You can trust Bronn, as a couch, he makes a half way decent physio."

Bronn rolled his eyes. "I'm fully trained. The best couches are."

Brienne continued to look sceptically between them, silently weighing up his options. "I have a knot in my hamstring."

"Where's your couch?" Jaime asked, brow raised in confusion.

"Catelyn is with her daughters." she snapped, her tone instantly defensive.

"You're being trained by Catelyn Stark? I thought you were under Renly Baratheon?" he looked over at Bronn, who shrugged.

"Not that it's any of your business, but Renly was taken ill before the season began, so called on Catelyn to take over."

"Well then, I guess that explains the hostility." Jaime huffed, shrugging. "Are you just going to stand there until your leg ceases up completely." he hopped off and waved his arm at the table, bowing low. "Please." he took a seat in the corner.

"You're not leaving?"

"I'd hate to give you the opportunity to steal my excellent physio." he laughed. Brienne glowered at him, arms folded over her chest. "Tick Tock, my lady."

"Stop calling me that." she warned.

The pair stared at each other for a long time, the tension crackling between them. Finally Jaime exhaled a long tired surrender. "Fine, I'll leave you in Bronn's capable hands." he bowed, dramatically, and turned on his heels, the fingers of his left hand rubbing at his right wrist.

"Time!" the Umpire called, pulling Jaime from his thoughts.

As he made his way to the end of the court, his gaze flickered up to stands, first to his family. His father's stoic cold features, then to Cersei, watching him with a raised brow and a distant judgement. She'd been like that since they'd arrive, as if she sensed something had changed in him.

As he turned to get into position, his eyes met with Brienne and his heart leapt into his throat as she nodded at him, her gaze intense. They'd barely spoken since leaving Eastbourne, Jaime determined to focus on his game.

And it had worked, for a while. It was hard to think about anything when you were playing a match almost every day, and when he wasn't playing she was. It wasn't until Sunday, when they were all given their day off that their paths crossed again.

One Week Earlier

Wimbledon

Jaime groaned at the insistent knock on his hotel room door. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore it, but another round of knocking came and he sighed, pushing himself out of the bathtub. He grabbed the towel, wrapping it around his waist. He didn't know who he expected to find on the other side, Bronn, his sister perhaps, but the one person he didn't expect to see when he yanked open the door, was an overly tall blonde firecracker.

"Brienne?" he gapped, looking around her confused.

She jolted her gaze upwards from where she'd been staring at his chest, and swallowed. Jaime smirked, relaxing his posture as much as he could when every muscle in his body was suddenly wound tighter than it had been all month. His heart was racing, faster than it had during any match. In an attempt to seem unfazed by Brienne's sudden appearance at his hotel room, he leant casually against the door frame. "And what can I do for you My Lady?"

Brienne straightened, her shoulders rolling back in a stubborn show of confidence, Jaime didn't' quite believe. "I - I would like to talk to you."

Jaime raised a brow, his lip curling. "I'm not exactly dressed for visitors." he pointed out, glancing purposefully down at his body. His heart skipped at the attractive rose colour blush that began to tinge Brienne's pale cheeks. He stepped back, waving his arm.

Brienne hesitated only momentarily, before stepping over the threshold, to hover awkwardly in the center of the room, a few feet from his unmade bed. He pushed the door closed, and turned, watching Brienne stare at it. A primal heat ignited beneath his flesh, coursing through every inch of his body. When Brienne finally tore her gaze from the bed, she turned, fixing him with a wide turbulent gaze.

Jaime followed her line of sight and found his meagre towel tenting just enough to indicate where his mind was. He inhaled deeply, and lifted his gaze to the woman, expecting to find her infuriated. Instead he found her flushed and breathless, her tongue trailing slowly over her full lips.

Before he'd even fully formed the idea in his mind, he was marching forward, hands reaching for her. He cupped her jaw, pulling her down to him. He had honestly expected her to resist. He expected yelling and shoving. He expected a battle.

What he got was a soft moan and complete surrender, something Jaime instinctively knew was out of character. Her hand brushed gently across his cheek, and Jaime smiled into the kiss, lowering his arms to slide them around her waist, palms pressed flat against her back.

With that one touch, all bets were off. Heat surged between them and Jaime tightened his arms, fingers curling into the fabric of Brienne's pale blue t-shirt. Brienne's own finger grew bold, racking up to comb through his damp hair, tugging slightly as her tongue pushed into his mouth. Jaime moaned, staggering forward to lead Brienne to the bed.

They toppled easily, then crawled up a little more to make themselves comfortable, barely breaking the kiss. Brienne's hands began to roam. Sweeping down his ribs and round his back, her short nails scratching at the muscled flesh.

Jaime palmed at Brienne's clothed thigh, lighting it to his waist as he began to grind his arousal between their spread legs, thrilled at her broken moans of pleasure.

Sex was something Jaime had only ever indulged in with one person, and used to be fine with him. He hadn't wanted another woman but for Cersei. However he'd come to realise, especially in the last few weeks, that what he'd shared with his twin sister had been the result of his father's strict training. All they'd seen was one another. All they were allowed to know was one another. Other people were a distraction in his father's eyes.

They kissed and clawed, and rutted until their chests were heaving and dizziness threatened. Jaime let out a sound of frustration when Brienne pushed forcefully at his chest, but pulled back to look down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, lips a deep red and swollen. Eyes dark with lingering desire.

"We - We should stop." Brienne panted. "We can't do this now." she insisted.

"Why not?" he asked, lowering his lips to her throat.

"We've still have a tournament to play. Catelyn would kill me if she..." Brienne moans, head rolling back. "...Ja-ime."

"We're both fully grown adults."

"Sex can affect your…"

"Old wives tale." Jaime interrupted, hand sliding down her body. "Besides, I don't have a match until Tuesday." his fingers moved between their thighs, pressing up against her womanhood, causing her to gasp.

"Well, I have one tomorrow." she choked out, her hips defying her by lifting to seek more friction from Jaime's insistent fingers.

"Then you need all the stress relief you can get." he muttered before calming her mouth in yet another deep kiss.

Jaime rubbed her through the fabric, grinning at the defiant movements of her pelvis. He rocked his own hips against the crook of her thigh, his cock hard and leaking.

"No." Brienne exhaled, pushing at his chest once more. "No. - I shouldn't have come." she stated, scrambling off the bed.

"You haven't come yet." Jaime pushed himself up on his elbows, watching her hurried rearrange her clothing, grinning. "But if you give me a little more time, I'll rectify that."

Brienne looked back at him with heavy lidded blue eyes, shadowed with regret. She shook her head.

"Then why are you even here?" Jaime grunted, frustrated.

Brienne eyed his cock for a long few seconds before turning sharply away from him. "I don't know." she announced, sounding both angry and pained. She rushed to the door. "I'm leaving. I apologise for interrupting you."

Jaime scurried off the bed, rushing over to her. He grabbed her arm gently. "Wait. Brienne." she paused and looked back at him. "I'm glad you came. - I mean, visited." he corrected with a teasing smirk. "I've been unable to get you out of my head for weeks." he confessed.

She stared at him, dumbfounded. "You're lying."

"Believe me, I wish I was." he shook his head. "I've got other things to be focusing on, than some woman."

Brianne glowered at him. "As do I."

"But it is what it is." he shrugged, reaching up to pull her back into a soft slow kiss.

"This is a mistake." Brienne informed him quietly. "Catelyn will not like it."

"Luckily, Catelyn Stark is not a woman whose opinion I care much for. - The only woman that matters here, Brienne, is you. So what do you say?"

She watched him closely. "What about...your sister?"

Jaime inhaled sharply. "There is nothing between me and Cersei. I swear it."

There was a long, thick silence. The pair almost frozen in time while Brienne decided whether to risk her heart on Jaime Lannister.

Straightening her spine, she met his gaze determinedly. "When this is over, we'll..."

"IN!" the umpire called.

Jaime turned to the net, his gaze intense on Robb Stark. Watching the younger man bounce on the balls of his feet, fully prepared to counter each attack. Equally as determined to win. Jaime tightened his grip on the ball, the course yellow fabric teasing his fingertips. Dragging his tongue across his lips, Jaime dropped the ball, catching it as it bounced up. He repeated the motion three times before tossing it skyward and leaping up to meet it. Stark diving to get it.

Not fast enough, the ball connection with the grass and the crowd clapped, cheers coming from some corners as the umpire called it. "15-Love."

Jaime swallowed thickly, stepping back to his place beyond the white line. He reached for the spare ball in his pocket. Going through the same old routine before throwing it up and swinging.

The ball sailed across the net, only this time Robb was ready, hurriedly meeting it before it could touch dirt. Jaime dived to his right, racket out stretched. He held his breath as the strings connected, sending it up into the air.

Once again Robb was ready for him. There was another two volleys back and forth before the point was won.

"15 all!"

Jaime served. Robb countered.

"15-30!"

"30-30!"

"40-30!"

And of course that was when disaster struck, as he dived for the ball, arm out stretched. The ball tapped the edge of the racket, slipping to the floor instead of flying back towards the net. Jaime was so focused on the ball that he didn't realise he was going down until his knee hit the dirt, he let his racket slip from his fingers in a desperate attempt to brace for the fall.

The pain that shot through his arm when his right wrist took his weight caused his heart to stop for a brief moment. Rolling onto his back he grabbed at his wrist with his left hand.

It took a few moments of blinding agony before he heard the murmur of the audience, then the rush of feet. Opening his watery eyes he looked up into the face of Qyburn, and then Bronn. The doctor's fingers moved over his wrist, sending white hot pain though his arm. He swallowed the fail taste of nausea fighting its way up his throat. Turning his head he sort out the family box.

His gaze met the Brienne's, leaning forward in the box, her own eyes wide with fear and concern. "Wrap it." he demanded firmly.

"Jaime, you need to go to the hospital." Bronn insisted.

"No." he snapped, shaking his head. "Wrap it. I'm going to finish."

"If you don't see to it now," the doctor warned, "you could end your career."

"Wrap it!" he growled, jaw tight against the pain.

"Do you understand what I just..."

"I won't say it again. - I'm two serves away from winning. "Jaime threatened, staring deeply into the Qyburn's eyes.

"You're insane." Bronn huffed angrily. "Wrap it." he ordered the doctor.

After a few moments of debate, the doctor began to tightly wrap the wrist. "I can't give you anything for the pain."

"Fine." Jaime gritted out between his teeth, watching the man work. When it was done, he let Bronn help him to his feet. He tested his wrist, fingers flexing around the grip of the racket. The pain is just bearable, but Jaime is determined, he hadn't come this fair to give up now.

With his heart racing Jaime stepped up to the line, feet braced apart. Robb looked across at him questioningly. Jaime gave him a curt nod and Robb inclined his head back. A moment later he was tossing the ball high and sending it rocketing towards Jaime.

Jaime's heart froze in his chest as the orb came flying towards him. He forced himself to focus on the game. On the win. Nothing else mattered, not even the pain. He lifted the racket and swung. Connecting with a loud crack, the ball shot back. Jaime held his breath and scrambled to catch it when it was easily returned.

After another three volleys it finally found dirt.

"Advantage Lannister." the umpire announced.

Jaime exhaled, sweat rolling down his face. He swallowed thickly, taking deep breaths. His wrist was throbbing against the tape, and he could feel the bone grinding. Biting his lower lip, he breathed through his nose and prepared for the hopefully final serve.

Jamie turned, taking a moment to wipe at his sweat dredged face, then turning back to the line. The crowd was deafly silent as the ball sored up into the sky. The tension was thicker than the summer heat when the ball came back to him and he was once again diving for it, this time bracing his feet.

The crack of the racket echoed in the silence, the crowd gasping. Jaime held his breath as it headed back to Robb, time seeming to freeze as he watched Robb Stark scurry across the turf.

He wasn't quite fast enough and the ball landing on the dirt. The crowd irrupted only to be silenced when Robb asked for a call. The audience began to clap as the footage appeared on the large screen.

Jaime stared at the screen, heart painfully beating in time with the crowd. He didn't know if he could take much more. The pain was getting worse, and his body was on fire.

"IN! Game Lannister!" the umpire called.

The applause was deafening, and Jaime's head began to spin. He stumbled forward to meet Robb Stark as the net.

"Congratulations." Robb said begrudgingly, holding his hand out to Jaime. A tiny look of respect in his eyes.

"You too." he shook his hand only briefly, then turning to face the crowd, raising his arms in triumph. He could see Cersei and his father on their feet, clapping, but his gaze shifted past them to the other stand, where Brienne was practically vibrating in her seat, applauding in a restrained controlled manner. If it weren't for the way her eyes found his, and glistened in the sunlight, he'd almost believe she didn't care.

With his eyes locked with hers, Jaime headed for the stands, climbing the steps hurriedly.

"Jaime." Cersei breathed, smiling brightly at him. "I'm so..."

Her words barely registered as he marched past her, stepping into the Stark box where Brienne had been sat with her coach. Catelyn glared at him as he walked closer but he didn't pay her any mind. When he was finally within arm's reach of Brienne and held out his hand to her. There was a wave of murmured and gasps from the surrounding crowd as Brienne took his hand and got to her feet, an awkward uncertain smile spreading over her face.

"I owe you congratulations, My Lady." Jaime said breathlessly, his body vibrating. "Excellent win yesterday. Cersei will never forget it."

Brienne looked past him at his sister, her feature drawn tight with anger. "I'm sure she won't." she whispered. "And congratulations on your win, My Lord."

Jaime laughed, beaming at her. "My Lord?"

She lifted a brow in challenge. Jaime didn't say another word, instead cradling her face and pulling her down into a deep passionate kiss. The agony of his injured wrist forgotten.

Brienne broke the kiss first, pulling away to meet his gaze. "Go collect your prize."

"I already have it."

She rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head and pushing him away. "Go."

Jaime grinned, turning away from her. He met the accusatory angry gaze of his sister, but didn't care. He hurried down the stairs with a spring in his step. Taking his place next to Robb Stark. He stood grinning, deaf to everything until his own name echoed around them.

He was shaking when he reached the gold up, and was forced to grit his teeth as he lifted it. It had been a hell of a couple of years, and if he were honest with himself, he hadn't genuinely believed he'd get this far. Of course, he knew this would be his last win, his wrist was shot. He'd never play professionally again, and bizarrely that didn't bother him half as much as he expected. If he was going to retire, at least he was going with a championship trophy in one arm and an amazing incredible firecracker in the other.

"Ladies and Gentleman, your Wimbledon Champion, Jaime Lannister."


A/N: I hope that wasn't too bad, sorry for the kind of naff ending. I hope I did the characters justice. I don't know very much about Wimbledon, so anything I got wrongs you'll just have to chalk up to creative licence.

Anyway, thanks for reading.