Strange Little Town

Rhaenys knew Jaime was a little odd after coming home from Interpol with a hand that didn’t quite work.

After all, she’d helped dump him in a freezing bathtub after he’d drunk himself senseless. 

And he’d taken up a job bartending at the Rock Club- and she was never, ever letting Tyrion name anything ever again. She’d taken the cobartending job mostly because she was a horrible troll who found the whole idea hilarious and wanted to see how it panned out. (She’d also promised to keep Loras out of trouble.)

She wondered if that was why Jaime had come to her with this harebrained scheme.

"You want to write a novel?" she asked, carefully not showing any expression. That seemed to challenge him, a hint of that old jackassery he’d picked up somewhere surfacing.

"Yes? I mean, look at the some of the shit that gets published. How hard can it be?" he asked. “I just can’t type."

Rhaenys was about to point out the multitude of speech to text programs out there- hell, she’d done coding for one of them. She wanted to point out that it wasn’t that easy.

But this could be fun.

"Sounds interesting," she admitted. “What about?"

And Jaime started talking, and Rhaenys grabbed her notepad, writing in her dad’s version of shorthand, occasionally stopping to push up the wire-rimmed glasses she’d needed after the Accident and then ask questions. (And make suggestions.)

She didn’t comment on how much the hero, who was recently wounded and on a quest to set things right, reminded her of Jaime- it was probably partially her fault, for sticking the Prince Charming nickname on him. (But she’d been six! She hadn't even known what a trebuchet was back then.) She also decided not to think at all about the possible origins of the snarky blonde princess the hero wanted to rescue. (Tyrion was either going to love or hate his role as the student wizard who routinely pulled the hero out of trouble.)

And it kind of just… grew from there. The hero picked up a quiet antiquarian who was certainly not Rhaenys at Jaime’s suggestion, and there was growing arch plot that Rhaenys pointed out, making room for more.

Jaime came up with the penname, and Rhaenys was responsible for trying to sort out the publishing process. And it kept going- Jaime’s half-amused, half-bitter tone seemed to strike a chord in people, and Rhaenys’ eye for continuity seemed to keep it coherent.

Then they started leaving post-its for each other.

At Jaime’ suggestion, the merry band picked up a lady warrior, on a quest of her own that occasionally clashed with the heroes. (And Rhaenys explained “shipping" to Jaime, who looked longingly at the bottle of rum on his counter as she started making a chart.) 

Rhaenys added the Archivist, a lady with a quiet sense of humor, and her mad alchemist brother. (And started watching the TVTropes page fill.)

Jaime wickedly suggested that they add a King’s Justice, a solemn rigid man nicknamed “Old Stoneface". Rhaenys added his two bickering daughters, appearances changed enough to throw off suspicions.

Then they saw Sansa carrying one of the books, and started laughing. No one quite wanted to ask why. (They did supply their own answers, but never got confirmation.)