Chapter Text
Brienne followed her father, attempting to walk with purpose through the halls of Evenfall just as he had taught her.
“You are not a child, my sweet. You are the Lady of Tarth and you must act like it.”
He had decided that at sixteen years of age, it was about time she learnt the ways of ruling and the duties to her people that she must fulfil, but all she wanted to do was train with the sword. He supported her training, he even taught her himself when he could spare the time, but he always made sure to remind her that duty came before all else.
She listened as he drawled on about council meetings, listing the ins and outs of who sat where, who should be consulted and in what order. She nodded her head like a good daughter should, brushing her thumb over the newly formed calluses on her hand. The calluses of a fighter, she though with a smile. Her training was getting better by the day and she had no doubt that she could be the strongest fighter in Tarth.
She’d beaten each one of the men who had belittled her over the years, that was for damn sure.
At least she could relax knowing that after three failed betrothals, he had given up on the idea of finding her a husband.
Four failed betrothals. Her heart whispered.
She coughed to clear her throat, pushing the memory of Jaime out of her mind. Now was not the time for sentiment.
“Are you listening to me?” Her father said accusingly, then sighed in disappointment as she looked up startled. “My child, you will never learn if you don’t listen.” He said softly.
She nodded her head in shame. “I apologise. I will do better.” She muttered.
He gestured towards two chairs which occupied the space at the head of the room in the great hall where they stood. Wordlessly, she followed him, then sat down beside him. He sighed as they gazed out over the empty room.
“Brienne, Tarth is not much, but it’s ours. I want nothing more than for you to be able to enjoy what remains of your youth, but this is how it must be.” He said solemnly.
“I understand.” She told him, feeling guilty that she was making this so difficult for him. He’d lost three of his children and his wife. It seemed like a cruel twist of fate that she was all he had left.
She vowed to do better.
“Perhaps you would be more engaged if you accompanied me on my next diplomatic trip?” He offered.
“That will not be necessary.” She appreciated his offer, but she would be more of a hindrance than a help to him.
He nodded briefly. “Very well. I depart for King’s Landing in two days. You may use the time whilst I’m away to train.”
Her eyes widened and her head snapped towards him. “King’s Landing?” She clarified and he nodded his head.
“I’ve changed my mind. I will join you.”
-x-
Brienne was too excited to sleep. She paced back and forwards across the small floor space of her cabin as the boat rocked gently beneath her.
They would be docking in King’s Landing within the hour, she thought with a grin.
Honestly, she had no idea why she was so excited. He probably didn’t even remember her name. It had been years since they spoken last, after all.
Idly, she thought about how much her appearance had changed over the years and considered that he would no recognise her. She had grown much taller, which nobody had thought possible. Maybe she would be taller than him? According to her maester she would grow taller still. That was not something she looked forwards to.
She now wore her hair in a cropped style, it barely grazed the back of her neck, and her usual choice of clothing was nothing but plain and practical. As far as her outwards appearance, she considered herself to be worlds apart from who he’d met all those years ago.
On the inside, however, she would always be that timid little girl. The girl who’d fallen head over heels in love with the only boy who’d shown her an ounce of kindness.
She padded back across the room to her small leather bag then took a deep breath before reaching in and pulling out a very old, very worn piece of parchment.
My dearest Brienne,
I hope this letter finds you in good health.
I have visited the sea every day since my return to Casterly Rock, but each time I find myself disappointed. The water here is grey and cold, unlike the glorious waters of Tarth. The week I spent with you, My Lady, was the greatest week of my life. You have to swear to me that you will not stop training with the sword. Twice a day! You will be the greatest swordswoman in Westeros by the time I see you next.
Speaking of which. If you can find it in your heart, I urge you, beg you, to wait for me. Offer your hand to no other man, for he will not be worthy. I do not know when our paths will cross again, but when they do, I intend to stay true to my word. On my honour.
I will be patiently awaiting your reply.
All my love, Jaime.
Her eyes skimmed the words needlessly, as she had committed it to memory long before now. Then, she delicately clutched the parchment to her breast like she had done almost four years ago. This was all so familiar to her.
They’d written to one another for months after his first letter. His letters were often short, his handwriting was poor and he spelled words like nobody had ever taught him how, but she treasured each and every message he sent. She imagined that her letters were not much better. Even on paper, she somehow felt her tongue grow heavy in her mouth and her shyness dictate her words. Yet for some reason, no matter how boring or curt she thought her letters to be, he would reply every time.
On her twelvth name day, around four months after his visit, he sent her a small golden broach in the shape of a lion. A lion, from your lion. The accompanying message read. She’d practically wept with joy.
She always had been too afraid to wear the broach as she never did cope well with delicate things. Her big clumsy hands broke delicate china. Her feet managed to quickly wear in the soles every pair of boots she’d ever owned. The dressmakers began to refuse to add lace to her garments on account of the near constant repairs that needed to be made. She knew that if she tried to handle the broach that she would do something stupid like scuff the gold or snap the pin, so it sat untouched in the small drawer beside her bed.
She looked at it every night.
A few weeks after her name day was when reality started to settle in.
Jaime informed her that he would be squiring for Barristan Selmy and so he would be leaving Casterly Rock. It would be hard for her to reach him, but he would try to write to her when he could.
He promised to wait for her, but even at twelve years old she knew that it was the start of the end of their relationship. Before too long, he would be knighted, then appointed to the King's Guard. Members of the King's Guard were not permitted to marry.
She’d cried every night for weeks after he’d told her.
But not as hard as she’d cried when was appointed to the Kingsguard at the age of 18. Her father had considered sending for a maester on account of the fact that she was inconsolable, but would never tell anyone why.
She couldn’t bare the embarrassment of anyone knowing she was foolish enough to believe that she would one day marry the most handsome man in all of Westeros. So she kept it hidden. She burnt all but his first letter and buried the lion broach beneath a cluster of rocks on the beach. But her heart still yearned for him every day.
And then, a year later, he killed his King.
-x-
King’s Landing was everything that Brienne expected it to be. She hated it.
The streets were loud and overcrowded from the moment they stepped off the boat, so much so that it made her head spin. The streets smelled like sewage and she was convinced that every person they passed wanted to hurt her.
There was also the staring.
On Tarth, due to her father, she was a recognisable figure. The people of Tarth, whilst still unkind, had grown accustomed to her mulish looks and obscene height. People looked at her discreetly, as though she didn’t see them and, more often than not, they kept the worst of their remarks for behind closed doors, out of respect for her family name. But the people of King’s Landing were not as forgiving.
Men, women and children alike openly gawped at her as she walked beside her father. Some snickered at the giantess parading through their streets, others yelled insults more openly. She’d tightened her jaw and pretended not to hear them, for the sake of her father’s dignity, but in reality all she wanted to do was shrink up into a small ball.
She scanned the streets for a glimpse of golden blonde hair, as though if Jaime were in Kings Landing he would just happen to be walking within metres of her. A rat scurried within inches of her feet and she cringed inwardly.
How many rats are there in this wretched city anyways?
Once they’d reached the horse and cart that would take them the rest of the distance to the Red Keep, she realised that she hadn’t said a word to her father since they’d docked. She glanced over and smiled sheepishly at him and he nodded his head back, acknowledging her. They never had been a family of great conversationalists.
It dawned on her during the journey that her trip here could end up being a complete waste of time. She had no real interest in her father’s diplomatic duties, all she was her for was the slightest chance that she might see Jaime. But although he had been pardoned by Robert Baratheon and allowed to keep his knighthood, he had not yet been reinstated into the King's Guard, so he could be anywhere in the world right now. Plus, even if he was here, he would probably have no interest in seeing her.
Should I even want to see him anyways? She asked herself, given his heinous crimes. But she decided to do her best to ignore that moral dilemma, since her heart was practically screaming the answer anyways.
She’d been taught for the past two years that the Jaime’s crime was the worst thing a person could do. She should hate him. Be disgusted by him.
She just can’t be.
That’s not the Jaime she remembers. The fifteen year old boy who’d encouraged her to train with the swords and played with her on the beach like they were young children. Who’d promised to marry her. That was the Jaime she remembered. And he wouldn’t do something so vile, surely not? She refused to believe it.
Maybe it was her foolish nature, or maybe it was because she didn’t want to believe that the boy she had been in love with for four years was a monster, but she vowed that she would given him a chance to explain himself before she judged him. If she ever saw him again, that was.
-x-
“I hope you and your kin will be very comfortable in the Red Keep, Lord Selwyn.” King Robert said to her father from where he sat on the iron throne. He’d welcomed them most graciously, invited them to the evening banquet and was now in the process of dismissing them to the guests’ quarters.
Brienne felt her entire body jittering.
She’d never been in the presence of royalty before, but that wasn’t what bothered her. No, what was making her practically shake with fear was Cersei Lannister’s unshakeable gaze.
She had recognised Cersei straight away. Well, not technically… At first glance she had thought she was Jaime. But that was perhaps what a glimpse of golden hair and wishful thinking did to a person. Once she’d had a closer look however, she recognised Cersei as Jaime’s twin without a doubt.
Given their similar outwards appearance, it was astonishing how different their eyes were. Where Jaime’s eyes, as she remembered, were warm, playful and inviting, Cersei’s were cold, unfeeling and almost judgemental in their gaze. Brienne wondered briefly if Cersei knew who she was.
“Lady Brienne, the handmaid's are waiting.” King Robert told her, snapping from her thoughts. She glanced nervously at her father, who was glaring her, and concluded that this may not have been the first time the King addressed her directly. She was too busy daydreaming to pay attention.
“My apologies, your grace.” She stammered, feeling her cheeks burning in embarrassment. She bowed her head quickly and turned to follow the handmaids, until she heard Cersei speak for the first time.
“Sorry, did you just bow?” She said accusingly. Brienne turned back to face her but felt al the air leave her lungs. Cersei quirked her eyebrow and Brienne couldn’t decide whether she thought she would burst into flames or tears.
“I um… Yes. I erm-”
“The bow is customary for both genders on Tarth, your grace.” Her father lied, saving Brienne from floundering any longer.
Cersei smirked briefly and looked at Brienne once more. “And here’s me thinking it was because you’re too tall and awkward to be a real Lady.” She said with a smile.
Brienne blinked rapidly and stared at Cersei in disbelief. Had the Queen of Westeros really insulted to her directly to her face? She looked to the floor and shuffled her feet uncomfortably, then glanced to her father to see if he would defend her again.
Not this time.
She wasn’t surprised her father wouldn’t stand up to royalty, but it didn’t take away the burn of pain in her heart. She felt her lip wobble briefly. She was going to cry.
“May I be excused?” She asked softly, her voice breaking.
King Robert nodded his head once, allowing her to leave, so she turned and made her way quickly towards the exit. She brushed swiftly past the handmaids waiting to take her to her chambers and the moment she was through the door, she broke into a run.
Fuck this place. She’d been a fool to come here.
Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision, but she didn’t slow down. Maybe if she hurried she could find the vessel that had brought her here and beg them to take her back to Tarth. She was barrelling through the courtyard of the Red Keep so quickly that she didn’t realise she was about to bump into someone until she collided with their chest and felt a firm pair of hands on her biceps.
“Woah, woah, woah.” She heard the voice say with a chuckle.
“Unhand me at once.” She yelled, thrashing in the grip of her assailant. “I am Lady-”
“My gods.” The voice cut her off. “Will we always meet like this?”
Her eyes widened in shock as she looked up. His voice was deeper. He was taller. Broader. Stronger. He wore armour and carried a real sword now. But his eyes, and that dazzling smirk, hadn’t changed a bit.
Jaime.
Was this real? Was this really happening?
She blinked away her tears from her encounter with Cersei, but fresh ones threatened to fill her eyes as it dawned on her that it truly was him. She felt like a fool. She’d been anticipating this moment so much, yet she hadn’t considered what she would say if she saw him.
Say something. Her mind screamed.
“You’ve gotten taller.” He smirked, glancing her up and down. He was still taller than her, as she expected he was fully grown, but only by around half an inch.
Her eyes narrowed at him and her face burned with embarrassment. Cersei had taunted her and now he wished to do the same. “Don’t mock me.” She practically hissed.
“I wasn’t.” Jaime said quickly, taking his hands off her shoulders and dropping them to his side. He stared at her for a moment and smirked. “I can’t believe you’re here.” He said softly.
She smiled back at him. “Me neither. That you’re here, I mean. I can’t believe you’re here.” She stammered awkwardly, cursing herself for her gawkish behaviour.
He grinned and sighed softly. “You haven’t changed a bit, Blue.” As if she wasn’t blushing enough already.
She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, but the words would not come.
“My Lady, I hope you will excuse me, but I’m very late to see my father.” He said apologetically and she nodded her head. Had she blown this with her awkwardness already?
“Yes, of course, Ser Jaime.” She said sheepishly and he looked at her with a mixture of sadness and confusion, which quickly dissipated.
“Sorry.” He said with a smile. “It’s just, people don’t usually call me that anymore.”
“What do they call you?”
“Kingslayer.”
“Oh.”
She felt awful for asking. She wanted nothing more than for them to run down to the beach as they had done during his week on Tarth. She wished they were children again, when everything was so much simpler.
He shook his head and his sombre look was replaced with his devilish grin once more. “I’ll see you at the banquet this evening, yes?”
“Um, Yes. I think. Yes, I think I will definitely be there.” She stammered awkwardly
Jaime shook his head and chuckled affectionately as he walked away.