Chapter Text
Age Eight- The Embroidery Debacle
The eight year old Lady Brienne sat hunched over her embroidery hoop, stabbing at the canvas with her needle. Lady Joanna leaned over and tutted at her ward's attempts of embroidering a red lion.
“Oh dear,” she sighed, “It looks rather like my bedsheets after I had Tyrion,” she took the hoop from Brienne's hands and began unpicking at the thread, “In the end we had to throw them away,”
She looked up to see Brienne staring longingly out the window. “Brienne!” she snapped, “Are you listening to me?”
Brienne snapped her head round and apologised. “Sorry Lady Joanna, I shall try better next time,”
Joanna laid the embroidery across her lap and placed both hands on Brienne's shoulders, pushing them back and forcing Brienne to sit up straighter. “Do not slouch darling, when you are Lady Lannister you must comport yourself with grace, poise and confidence. Remember, the whole world bows to the Lord Of Casterly Rock,” she smiled slightly, “Who in turns always bows to his lady,”
“Jaime doesn't,” Brienne pointed out, instinctively slumping down in her seat once more, her broad shoulders straining against her tight gown. Brienne looked out the window, petulantly watching her betrothed with his Master of Arms.
Joanna followed Brienne's gaze and shook her head as Jaime smiled smugly at Brienne, brandishing his sword and sticking his tongue out. According to Lord Selwyn's wishes, Brienne received an hour of instruction in sword fighting alongside Jaime each day, along with languages, mathematics and other such studies. But she was also expected to attend lessons in embroidery, deportment and music. Everything necessary for the daughter of a noble house and future Lady of the Rock.
And so, to Brienne's dismay, she found herself cloistered in Lady Joanna's beautiful but stuffy sitting room, forced to practice her needlepoint whilst Jaime got to spar in the yard. She took back her embroidery and thrust the needle into it once more.
Joanna watched as Jaime continued to wave and make faces at his unfortunate betrothed. She shook her head once more. Clearly, something had to be done.
#
“But why do I have to do embroidery?” he wailed, throwing his needle and hoop against the wall, “It's boring! No one expects the Lord of the Rock to embroider flowers,”
Brienne smirked. “You only say that because you know that I am better than you,”
Joanna smiled, “Just try, Jaime. There is no need to be embarrassed. It's only to be expected that Brienne stitched better flowers than you,” she patted the top of his head.
“It will take time, but perhaps one day, you may even be able to have piece of your work on display, to show all visitors and Bannermen, like Brienne. Although I suppose it will take a long time for you to achieve her degree of accomplishment,”
Jaime turned red and snatched the hoop from his mother's hands. “Oh yeah?” he aggressively threaded his needle with a length of pink thread, “Is that what you think? Well, I could embroider a better flower than Brienne any day. Just watch and see!”
Jaime was at his embroidery for the next seven hours. He stubbornly refused to move, not even for his jousting lessons, until he had finally perfected his masterpiece. He had painstakingly created a dainty pink rose, surrounded by a boarder of daisies.
“There!” he cried, thrusting his work before his mother, “Put that on display! And be sure to tell all of my Bannermen, that Lord Jaime made this!”