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“What about Lady Emmeline Musgood?” Brienne suggested.
She was sitting cross-legged behind Jaime on their bed, brushing his hair, so she couldn’t see his expression. It didn’t matter. She had brought this topic up enough times to know how he would react.
“Clearly you need more to occupy yourself with, wench,” he said, fond exasperation in his voice, just as she’d expected. “Are your duties as Evenstar not enough for you?”
Brienne paused her brushing to gently untangle a knot with her fingers. She liked doing these things for Jaime, she had learned. When they’d first married, she’d been hesitant to do too much for him lest he assume she thought him helpless, but they’d quickly discovered how much they both enjoyed it when she brushed his hair. Now it was her favourite part of their nightly routine. “Of course they are,” she said, picking up the brush again. “But surely you’d like to see Hyle married as much as I would. He’d bother you much less if he had a wife to keep him busy.”
“True,” Jaime mused. “But if he wanted a wife, I’m sure he’d have found one himself by now. I doubt he needs your intervention.”
“He does want a wife,” said Brienne. “He asked me twice, don’t forget.”
“Yes, he asked you,” said Jaime. “Then perhaps he hasn’t asked anyone else because…”
He trailed off.
“You know, mayhaps you’re right, wench,” he said after a moment’s silence. “Who’s this Emmeline Musgood?”
Hyle was surprised to hear that there would be a feast for Brienne’s nameday. Brienne hated attention generally, and she had been so nervous about the feast for Lord Estermont that she’d drunk too much wine and then burst into tears in the gardens. But she'd seemed quite happy when she told him about this one, exchanging a smile with her husband. Perhaps she didn’t mind hosting when Jaime was with her. He tended to do all of the talking anyway.
“It won’t be a huge feast,” the Kingslayer told Hyle, his arm wrapped around Brienne’s shoulders almost possessively. Hyle had thought that their rivalry over Brienne had long since ceased, but the possibility that it hadn’t made him feel a little smug. “But we’ve invited some interesting people.”
“Oh?” said Hyle, wondering why they were telling him this.
Brienne nodded. “We think you’ll like them,” she said.
“Oh,” repeated Hyle, growing more confused by the moment. “Well, it’s your nameday, my lady, not mine. Don’t choose your guests because of me.”
“I haven’t,” said Brienne innocently. “But since you’re our treasured household knight—”
“Oh, now I know you’re japing.”
“—it would please us if you’d make an effort to talk to them all.”
The Kingslayer nodded. “Really get to know them,” he agreed. There was a slight smirk lifting the corner of his mouth which Hyle did not trust at all.
“What is this truly about?” he demanded.
“Nothing, Ser Hyle,” said Brienne. “I just haven’t been Evenstar long, that’s all, and I want to make a good impression on these people. For my whole household to make a good impression.”
Now Hyle was offended. “You don’t think I’ll make a good impression?”
“Of course we don’t,” said Jaime.
Brienne swatted his arm. “That’s not it, Ser Hyle,” she said soothingly. “It’s only that we know you can be charming when you mean to be. You charmed me when we first met, after all.”
Jaime frowned at her. “Did he?”
Hyle remembered the bet, and felt that familiar cold guilt twisting his stomach. He had not realised his attempts at courting had made an impression on Brienne. She’d seemed pleased when he asked to spar with her, and she’d seemed to like the book he’d given her, but in general she’d treated him with the same suspicious reserve she’d shown all the participants. The thought that she might truly have been flattered by his attentions made him feel even worse.
“All right,” he said, succumbing, as he always did whenever he was reminded of the bet. “I’ll do my best to charm your guests, my lady.”
Brienne’s nameday feast turned out to be a far bigger affair than Hyle had ever expected. Sansa and Arya Stark came all the way to Tarth for it, as did noble guests from all over the Stormlands: Lord Eldon Estermont, Ser Martyn and Lady Mella Musgood and their daughter Emmeline, Lord Alesander Staedmon and his younger sister Lady Petra, Lord Ralph Buckler and his daughters Lady Elyse and Lady Carelle, Lady Breda Cafferen and her daughter Lady Alys…
All of the daughters were unmarried, Hyle noted, and most of them close to his age. He had not expected to see quite so many comely young women. It was a stroke of luck, he supposed. For some reason, he had not been in the mood for flirting of late, but Brienne had asked him to charm her guests, and after all, he was sworn to obey.
He was seated next to Lady Emmeline during the feast. She was a pretty girl of two and twenty, tall and blonde, with a ready laugh. Her father was a landed knight without (as far as he could gather) much of a fortune, but at least that meant her expectations would be low.
He was getting along quite well with Lady Emmeline, offering her compliments and making her laugh, until she leaned in and murmured in his ear, “So what’s it like serving Lady Brienne?” There was laughter in her voice, as if expecting a joke.
“What do you mean?” Hyle asked.
“You know what I mean,” said Lady Emmeline slyly. “Is she as odd as they all say? Does she dress in men’s clothing all the time? Did she force the Kingslayer into marrying her?”
Hyle looked over at Jaime at the head of the table, trying to feed Brienne bits of chicken from his fork while she swatted at his hand and laughed. He could not have looked further from a man forced into marriage.
He turned back to Lady Emmeline. “There is nothing odd about Lady Brienne,” he said sharply. “And frankly, my lady, I think it discourteous of you to speak of your host in such a way at her nameday celebration.”
Lady Emmeline stared at him, shocked, then looked down at her plate. A few moments later, she excused herself from the table and did not return.
After a while, Brienne came over, accompanied by another girl. This one was petite and dark-haired, with a shy smile and a purple damask gown. “Ser Hyle,” Brienne said brightly. “Is that an empty seat beside you?”
“Er, yes, my lady,” said Hyle.
“Good,” said Brienne. “This is Lady Alys Cafferen. Perhaps you’ll give it to her.”
“It would be my honour,” said Hyle gallantly. Lady Alys sat down beside him, and he took her hand and kissed it. She blushed.
“I’ll leave you with Ser Hyle, my lady,” Brienne told Alys, giving Hyle a smile before returning to sit beside her husband. Hyle saw her lean in to whisper something in Jaime’s ear, and both of them looked over at him.
They are trying to make a match for me, Hyle realised at last. That’s what this is. He’d assumed Brienne had forgotten her drunken promise to him, but evidently not. He did not know whether to be touched that she cared or irritated at her meddling.
He looked at Jaime’s smirk again and decided he was irritated.
Still, he felt he should make an effort, so he looked back at Lady Alys. She was pretty enough; she had a sweet smile. “You are from Fawnton, my lady, are you not?” he asked politely. “I hear it’s lovely.”
“Yes, ser,” said Lady Alys. He waited for more, but she did not offer any, only blushed and smiled.
He pressed on. “Have you been to Tarth before?”
“No, ser.”
Again he waited for more, and again she said nothing.
Hyle took a deep breath. “And what do you think? Of Tarth?”
“It’s lovely, ser.”
Gods, it’s like drawing blood from a stone. “Was your journey long?”
“No, ser.”
He stared at her, wondering if she would take the initiative if he stopped talking, but she merely gazed placidly back at him. The silence began to grow painful.
He was casting around for another question to ask her when, much to his relief, the girl’s mother came swooping down to take her away. Perhaps she has another match in mind for her daughter, Hyle thought as he watched them walk away, or perhaps she simply doesn’t approve of me. Either way, he did not mourn her loss.
When the pudding was brought out, Brienne came back to him, this time with the Kingslayer at her side. “What did you think of Lady Alys?” she asked hopefully.
Jaime looked pointedly at the empty seat beside Hyle. “More to the point, what did Lady Alys think of you? It seems you’ve frightened her away.”
Hyle glared at him. “Her mother came and took her.”
“Wise woman.”
Hyle glared harder. “That was the most boring girl I've ever met in my entire life. I could have had a better conversation with a castle wall. Next time the two of you try to make a match for me, perhaps you could be a little more discerning.”
Brienne’s face fell. “Were we that obvious?”
The Kingslayer laughed. “I hadn’t thought you so picky, Hunt. What about Lady Emmeline? Did you like her?”
The memory of his conversation with Lady Emmeline made Hyle avert his gaze from Brienne. “No,” he said shortly. “Don’t invite her again. She is… ill-mannered.”
Brienne looked confused, but it seemed Jaime grasped his meaning. He tightened his grip on Brienne’s waist. “Very well.”
“Why?” said Brienne. “What did she say?”
“It matters not, my lady,” said Hyle. In a lighter tone, he added, “Did you invite all of these eligible young ladies just to set them up with me? I didn’t know you were quite so eager to be rid of me.”
“Rid of you?” said Brienne, frowning. “What do you mean?”
Hyle shrugged. “Well, most of them have their own castles and lands. I am just a household knight of Tarth. In the unlikely event that one of them would stoop low enough to wed me, I would have to go and live with them. Unless, of course, you see fit to bestow me with my own keep.” He gave them his most winning smile. “Something to consider.”
Brienne chewed her lip. “I did not think of that,” she said, sounding almost dismayed.
“Well, it sounds like the ideal outcome to me,” said Jaime. “You leaving, I mean, not us giving you a keep. We do not have keeps to give away.”
“You could build one,” said Hyle.
“We are not building you a keep.”
“Not even after all my years of loyal service?”
“Seven months,” said the Kingslayer. “You have served us for seven months.”
“And it has felt like an eternity. Well, I’m sure the Westerlands are full of empty keeps. It wouldn’t be my first choice of location, to be sure, but if you could have a word with your brother, I wouldn’t be opposed—”
“I don’t want you to leave, Hyle,” Brienne interrupted. “That was never my intention. It was only, you seemed so lonely when we spoke that night after the feast, and I thought—”
“I wasn’t lonely,” Hyle hissed, mortified, before the Kingslayer could seize the opportunity to mock him. “I am not so desperate for a wife, Brienne, truly. Perhaps I would like one, eventually, but it is not a matter of urgency, nor do I need you to find one for me. Although I do appreciate your efforts.”
Brienne relented. “Very well,” she said, looking only a little disappointed. “I would not have wished you to leave us, anyway.”
Jaime did not look as though he agreed. “Well, don’t give up just yet, Hunt. There are plenty more ladies here for you. At least give them a chance.”
Hyle rolled his eyes. “Go, both of you, and enjoy your feast.”
Looking somewhat defeated, they walked away.
Hyle had only been alone again for a few moments when a shadow fell across his plate. He looked up to see a beautiful redheaded girl in a dark green gown taking the empty seat beside him, and in spite of himself, his spirits immediately lifted.
“Do you mind, ser?” the girl asked apologetically. “I was sitting over there, but Lady Emmeline seems to have taken my seat.”
Hyle looked over to see that Lady Emmeline had indeed moved to the other end of the table, as far away from him as possible. He suppressed a smile. “Of course, my lady,” he said. “Who do I have the honour of meeting?”
She smiled. “Lady Petra Staedmon, ser. I am here with my brother, Lord Alesander.” She nodded to the tall redheaded man beside Lady Emmeline.
“I am Ser Hyle Hunt,” Hyle told her. “Just a humble knight of Evenfall.”
Lady Petra gazed around the hall. “I have never been to Tarth before. It is beautiful, is it not? How lucky you must feel to live here.”
“Very lucky,” said Hyle truthfully. “Though I could do without Ser Jaime.”
Lady Petra giggled behind her hand. “I was so shocked when I heard they’d gotten married,” she confessed. “And yet they seem so happy. Don’t they?”
Hyle glanced up at the head of the table, where Jaime was whispering in Brienne’s ear while she bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh and failing. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkling. “Yes,” he admitted. “They are.”
Lady Petra smiled at him. She really was very pretty, he decided. She had a delicate, heart-shaped face, and a slight spray of freckles across her nose. Hyle had always liked freckles.
“I like to see happy marriages,” she said. “It gives me hope that one day I might have one, too.”
Encouraged at the mention of marriage, Hyle decided to try his luck. “Surely any man would be happy to be married to you.”
Lady Petra blushed. “You are too kind, ser,” she said. “I only hope my betrothed feels the same.”
Hyle’s heart sank. “Your betrothed?”
She nodded. “He and my father are still negotiating, but it seems I will soon be married to Lord Steffon Kellington of Greenwater.”
Of course you will, Hyle thought bitterly. "And do you look forward to that?"
She beamed. “Very much, ser. I don’t know him well, but he seems so kind, and he is very handsome. He is so tall and strong and he has such lovely blue eyes, and his keep is—”
“Honoured guests!” Hyle had never been more relieved to hear the Kingslayer’s voice ring out across the hall. He gave Petra a smile he did not mean and settled back in his seat, deflated. “May I have your attention for a moment? I would like to say a few words in celebration of my lady wife’s nameday.”
The hall quietened. Brienne’s face was scarlet, but she was smiling up at her husband.
“Because my lady is shy, and I have no wish to embarrass her, I will keep this short,” Jaime continued. “But I could not let this occasion pass without saying something. Many of you do not know Lady Brienne very well, so I would like to tell you about her.” He paused. “She is kind, noble, selfless, infuriatingly stubborn, endlessly brave and impossibly good. She is the truest knight I've ever met, and if she were the type to boast about her accomplishments, they would sing about her in every tavern from here to the Wall – but she is not, so for once I would like to boast on her behalf. It is only her twenty-second nameday, and she’s already fought a bear, beaten some of the best swordsmen in the realm, come first in a tourney out of hundreds of men, fought heroically in the Long Night—”
“Jaime,” Brienne protested. She was covering her face now, but there was laughter in her voice.
“—kept me alive when I lost my hand, succeeded in an impossible quest out of sheer bloody-mindedness, bit off a man’s ear – what else? Oh yes, and I once watched her push a giant boulder off a cliff and sink an entire boat. I could go on, but really I just wanted to say that although Lady Brienne doesn’t often celebrate her nameday, those of us who know her know that she deserves a celebration more than anyone. So here we are.” He looked down at Brienne, face softening, and raised his cup. “Happy nameday, my love. To Lady Brienne!”
The toast was deafening. Hyle found his own voice was one of the loudest. “To Lady Brienne!” he shouted, and drank.
Sansa and Arya were clapping, Pod cheering, Pia beaming. Hyle watched a teary Brienne pull Jaime down to kiss him, and found himself blinking back tears of his own. He took another drink while he composed himself. The Kingslayer would never let him live it down if he learned Hyle had cried at his speech.
Lady Petra was gazing at Brienne and Jaime in wonderment. “That is what I want,” she declared. “Oh, I hope Lord Steffon will speak of me like that someday. Are you married, Ser Hyle?”
“No, my lady,” said Hyle. He gave her a wry smile. “I’m still looking. A love like that is hard to find, it seems.”
“But it would be worth waiting for,” said Lady Petra dreamily. “Don’t you think?”
Worth waiting for. Hyle mulled that over. “Perhaps, my lady,” he said, smiling. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“Our plan failed,” Jaime said much later that night, half-asleep and entwined with Brienne in their bed.
Brienne ran her fingers through his tangled hair; she hadn’t had a chance to brush it that night before they’d fallen into bed, tipsy and laughing. “Hmm?”
“With Hyle. We didn’t find him anyone.”
“Oh.” Brienne moved her fingers down the line of his jaw, his neck. He truly was the most beautiful man alive, she thought contentedly. “I forgot about Hyle.”
Jaime caught her hand in his and grinned, twining their fingers together. “What bliss it is to hear you say those words, wench.”
“Shut up.” She freed one finger to poke him half-heartedly in the shoulder. “Mayhaps we were trying too hard. He will find someone, won’t he? Like we found each other. By accident.”
“By accident.” Jaime kissed her fingers. “Exactly.”
Brienne nestled closer to him. “Jaime?”
“Yes, sweetling.”
“Did you know that I love you more than anything?”
“More than Hyle?”
She kicked him in the shin. “Shut up.”
He laughed and brushed her hair away from her face to kiss her. “Yes, sweet girl, I do know. I do.”
“Good.” She rested her head in the crook of his neck and closed her eyes. “Thank you for my nameday.”
He held her closer as she drifted off to sleep. “My pleasure.”