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“Seven hells!” Hyle panted as he ran up the winding staircase. “Get back here, you wretched bloody beast!”
Snowball was a three-month-old puppy. Or perhaps the correct term was cub, since he was part wolf. Whatever he was, he was the offspring of one of the Starks’ direwolves and some ordinary dog, given to Brienne by Sansa and Arya Stark as a token of their friendship. It was a gift that had moved Brienne to tears. The dog had brought Hyle close to tears many times since, but they were tears of rage and frustration more so than gratitude and joy.
As they had all quickly discovered, the pup left a trail of chaos and destruction everywhere he went. He had boundless energy, and a seemingly insatiable appetite. He ate everything – clothes, shoes, cushions, furniture. At one point he had chewed up the Kingslayer’s favourite boots, which Hyle had found greatly amusing. Then he destroyed Hyle’s favourite cloak, which Hyle had not found amusing at all.
He couldn’t help but wonder if the Starks had given Brienne Snowball not because they wanted to give her a heartfelt gift, but because they wanted to get rid of him.
At first, Brienne (who was still enamoured with the pup, despite the endless trouble he caused) had let Snowball sleep in the chamber she shared with Jaime, much to Jaime’s discontent. This ended very quickly after the loss of the Kingslayer’s boots and a pair of Brienne’s breeches. Now there was a strict rule that Snowball was not allowed in the lord and lady’s chamber, under any circumstances.
Naturally, that was exactly where he was headed now.
Jaime and Brienne were in Morne for the day, and they had left Hyle with firm instructions to keep an eye on Snowball. Hence why Hyle was now lumbering up the stairs, out of breath, trying to prevent the dog from barrelling into the one room he wasn’t allowed to be in.
Not for the first time, he wondered why he was still in this job.
To Hyle’s great dismay, the door to Jaime and Brienne’s chambers was open – a maid was in there, cleaning. Hyle made a lunge for Snowball, and missed by a significant margin. The dog bounded happily into the room.
The maid, Jeyne, looked up, startled. “Oh!”
“Quick!” Hyle panted. “Help me catch him.”
They attempted to corner him, Hyle taking one side of the room and Jeyne taking the other, but it was no use; the room was too large, and Snowball was too fast. Hyle had never seen a dog move so quickly. He shot from side to side like an arrow loosed from a bow.
Then Snowball leapt onto the immaculately-made bed, and Hyle cursed. Snowball immediately sank his teeth into something sitting between the pillows and began to shake his head from side to side, growling enthusiastically.
Jeyne gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, no. Ser Hyle, get it. Get it!”
Bits of fluff were flying from Snowball’s mouth. Hyle hesitated. Puppy though he was, Snowball was still part-direwolf, and Hyle had no desire to put his hands in close proximity to those teeth. “What is it?”
“It’s a stuffed bunny. It belongs to Lady Brienne.” Valiantly, Jeyne attempted to tug the object from Snowball’s jaws, but it promptly ripped in half. Jeyne was left holding the bottom half of the unfortunate rabbit, wincing.
“I didn’t think she was the type for stuffed toys,” said Hyle, watching Snowball happily eviscerate the remnants of the bunny. “Do you think she’ll be upset?”
“I’ve worked here since m’lady was thirteen. She’s always had it, as far as I know.” Jeyne tried to prise Snowball’s mouth open.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” said Hyle.
“He’s a puppy, he only has baby teeth. Quick, grab it!”
Reluctantly, Hyle pulled what was left of the bunny out of Snowball’s mouth. It was a tattered, soggy ruin, all of its stuffing gone.
Jeyne shook her head sadly. “Poor Lady Brienne.”
Immediately forgetting the bunny, Snowball leapt down from the bed and ran back out the door, looking for his next victim.
“Well, you can take the blame,” said Jeyne, in a tone that brooked no argument. “You’re the one that let him in here.”
The Lord and Lady of Evenfall returned later that afternoon, and Hyle greeted them warmly at the entrance, which earned him suspicious looks from both of them. He followed them into the castle, chattering aimlessly, doing his best to seem casual. Then Brienne said she was going to her solar to write some letters, and Hyle seized his chance.
“Might I have a word, Lord Jaime?” he asked as Brienne walked away.
Jaime frowned at him. “What have you done now?”
“I haven’t done anything,” said Hyle. “It was Snowball.”
Jaime sighed. “You let him into our chambers.”
“The door was open,” Hyle said defensively. “It was Jeyne’s fault, she was cleaning, she should have closed it. Anyway, well, that stuffed rabbit thing of Lady Brienne’s… was she fond of it?”
Jaime stared at him in disbelief. “You let Snowball eat Flat Jon?”
“Flat Jon?” said Hyle. “Interesting name. And yes.”
Not for the first time, the Kingslayer looked at Hyle as though he were like to throttle him. “Brienne’s mother made Flat Jon for her shortly before she died, you insufferable dolt. She’s had him since she was three years old.”
Hyle winced. “Ah.”
“Well, are you going to tell her? Because I’m certainly not.”
Hyle brought the tattered remains of Flat Jon out from the pocket of his jerkin. “I was hoping there might be something we could do to…salvage it.”
“Salvage it? He’s in shreds,” Jaime said incredulously. “No, we have to tell her before she goes back to the room and realises he’s gone. You bloody fool, we gave you one simple task. It’s not as though you have a difficult job here, you know.”
Sighing, Hyle followed Jaime up the stairs towards Brienne’s solar. “Yes, I know it’s not like being in the Kingsguard. Standing outside a door all day, it must be so taxing.”
“If I was ever tasked with keeping a dog out of a room, I think I could have managed it.”
You couldn’t manage not to kill the king you were supposed to be guarding, Hyle thought, but he kept it to himself.
They found Brienne at her desk, reading a letter from Sansa. She looked up, smiling, as they entered.
“Lady Sansa says she hopes Snowball is behaving himself,” she told them, a laugh in her voice. “What should I tell her?”
Hyle cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, “on that subject…there was an unfortunate incident today.”
“Oh?” said Brienne.
Hyle took Flat Jon from his pocket again. “My lady, I’m very sorry.”
Brienne stared. “Oh.”
There was a long pause, Brienne’s eyes fixed on the rags in his hand, and then, to his horror, her big blue eyes filled with tears.
Instantly, Jaime was by her side, his arm around her. “Oh, sweetling, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Brienne said, her voice wobbly. “I’m fine. These things happen.” She forced a smile. “Could you leave me, please? Both of you? I just need to write back to Lady Sansa.”
Her tone was firm, so they followed her wishes, Jaime giving her a comforting rub on the back before they left. As soon as the door closed behind them, Hyle said, “Well, now I feel like the worst person in the world.”
“That’s because you are,” said Jaime. “Any ideas on what we can do about this? Or what you can do, for that matter, since it’s your fault.”
“There’s a stall at the market that sells stuffed animals,” said Hyle, ignoring the jab. “Perhaps we’ll find a replacement there.”
“We can’t replace Flat Jon.”
“Well, no, but it’s the thought that counts.”
Jaime glanced out the window. “Is it too late to go to the market?”
“It doesn’t end until dusk. If we leave now, we should make it on time.”
They went on horseback, galloping to save time. They soon found the stall Hyle had spoken of, rows of lumpy stuffed animals lined up on the table. An elderly woman eyed them grumpily from behind it, giving Jaime nothing more than a muttered “M’lord.”
The Kingslayer was unimpressed. “These are badly made,” he whispered to Hyle, perhaps not quite quietly enough. The woman glared at him.
“Flat Jon wasn’t exactly a work of art, either,” Hyle pointed out.
“I know, but Brienne’s mother made him.”
“Why did you agree to come, then?” Hyle snapped, irritated.
Jaime flashed the woman his most disarming smile. “You don’t happen to have any rabbits, do you?”
The woman shook her head.
“I suppose this will do,” said Jaime, picking up a misshapen object that wasn’t quite recognisable as any animal in particular. “Thank you,” he said to the woman, handing her three golden dragons. Her glare quickly turned to a beaming smile.
“Why did you buy it, if it’s so badly made?” Hyle grumbled as they made their way back to Evenfall.
Jaime shrugged. “I’m the Evenstar’s husband, it would have looked bad if I didn’t buy something. Besides, it’s better than nothing.”
They rode in silence for a while, both of them painfully aware of the insufficiency of their purchase. Eventually, the Kingslayer sighed. “Did you ever have a favourite toy as a child?”
“One or two. Never one I loved quite that much,” said Hyle. In truth, he’d had few toys, and never any that had been made especially for him. He’d had too many brothers to ever receive any special gifts. “Did you? I’m sure you had more toys than you knew what to do with, growing up in Casterly Rock. All made of gold, as well.”
Jaime ignored the jape. “I had plenty, but I never had a Flat Jon. I used to tease Brienne for being so attached to him, and she was terribly embarrassed, but she still insisted on having him in the bed every night. I suppose I was jealous.”
Hyle gave him a disbelieving glance. “Jealous of a stuffed toy? I always suspected you were secretly quite insecure, Kingslayer, but even I wouldn’t have thought that of you.”
Jaime gave him a look of pure loathing. “Not of the toy, you buffoon. I was jealous because I lost my mother at a young age, too, and I didn’t have anything like that from her.”
“Ah.” Hyle’s memories of his own mother were faint. He supposed that if she had made him a stuffed rabbit when he was a child, he would have treasured it, too.
There was another pause. Finally, Hyle said, “This thing we bought isn’t going to be enough, is it?”
“No, it’s not. Do you have any other clever ideas?”
Hyle thought for a moment. “Mayhaps we could turn it into something,” he suggested. “A lion? Would she like that?”
“That would be somewhat self-centred of me,” said Jaime. “No, not a lion.” Suddenly, his face lit up. “I have a better idea.”
“What?” asked Hyle, but the Kingslayer dug his heels into his horse’s side and galloped the rest of the way back to the castle. Unwilling to even try to keep up, Hyle plodded after him, glowering.
Back at Evenfall, he found Jaime deep in conversation with Septa Alys, the young, round-faced woman who had replaced Septa Roelle after she’d been moved elsewhere. She seemed like a sweet girl; Hyle half-thought it was a shame she’d become a septa.
Septa Alys was nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, of course I can do that,” she said.
“Do what?” Hyle asked, still irritated with the Kingslayer for leaving him behind.
“You’ll see,” said Jaime smugly.
“I thought this was supposed to be my job,” said Hyle. It was petty, he knew, but a part of him was annoyed at the idea of Jaime getting all of Brienne’s gratitude for Flat Jon’s replacement, while Hyle remained the villain.
Jaime shrugged. “Too slow, Hunt, as always.”
Hyle had had enough. He stalked away.
After sulking alone for an hour or two, Hyle decided to find Septa Alys and see if he could learn what Jaime’s plan was. He found her sewing peacefully by a fireside, stitching small round ears to the top of the stuffed toy’s head. She had dyed it a different colour – it had gone from grey to brown. She smiled at him as he entered, and he noticed that it transformed her face from plain to very charming.
“May I ask what you’re doing, septa?” he said, giving her his most charming smile in response. “Or has Lord Jaime sworn you to secrecy?”
“I’m sure I can tell you, if you don’t tell Lady Brienne,” she replied cheerily. “I’m turning this into a bear.”
“Ah.” Of course Jaime would want to remind Brienne of the time he heroically rescued her from a bear pit. Hyle thought he must have heard that bloody story about half a hundred times, yet it never failed to make Brienne misty-eyed. He supposed it was a good idea.
He took the remnants of Flat Jon from his pocket and showed it to Alys. “It’s a replacement for this poor little fellow,” he told her. “He fell foul of Snowball.” Suddenly, a thought struck him.
“Do you suppose you could sew a bit of this fabric onto the bear?” he asked her. “I know it’s the wrong colour.” Flat Jon was dark blue, not brown. “But I think my lady would like that.”
“Yes, of course.” Alys took Flat Jon and examined him. “The insides of his ears, mayhaps? Oh, and his eyes!”
“Yes!” said Hyle, surprising himself with his own enthusiasm. “Blue, like the Lady Brienne’s. Her mother had blue eyes too, she told me once.”
Septa Alys gave Hyle a searching look that made him a little uncomfortable. “You are fond of Lady Brienne.” It wasn’t a question.
“Most people are, when they get to know her.”
The smile Alys gave him was a little too knowing. “I see.”
Hyle looked away. “You’ll be fond of her too, when you’ve been here a little longer.”
“I already am,” said Septa Alys. “There are others here that I would like to know better, though.”
“Oh?” said Hyle, nonchalantly. “Not Lord Jaime, I hope.”
Alys laughed. It was such a youthful, carefree laugh that it seemed wasted on a septa. “No,” she said. “Not him.”
“I’m intrigued,” said Hyle, and he was.
Septa Alys picked up the bear, or almost-bear, and resumed her stitching. “Goodnight, Ser Hyle,” she said demurely.
“Goodnight, Septa Alys.” He bowed, and left.
He was halfway back to his own chambers when he realised he was still smiling.
The next day, Brienne was staring at her desk, trying to make herself concentrate on a report about marble exports, when there was a knock on the door of her solar.
“Come in,” she said, pushing the report to the side. It was no use; she would try again later. It was stupid, she knew, to be so upset over a stuffed rabbit, but she couldn’t remember a time without Flat Jon.
The door opened, and Snowball bounded in. He jumped up on her, paws on her knees, and she petted him. She had forgiven him, of course – he was only a puppy, he could not help it. And he was so sweet, with his soft white fur and his tail always wagging. “Good boy,” she cooed, stroking his ears.
Her husband entered, smiling. “Hello, my lady.”
“Hello, my lord,” she said, pushing Snowball down gently. “What are you smiling about?”
“I have a gift for you.” Jaime came up to her, leaning down to kiss her temple. “Close your eyes and open your hands.”
She did as she was told, and felt something soft drop into her palms. She opened her eyes.
“Oh, Jaime,” she said, suddenly struggling to hold back tears.
“Do you like it?” He looked almost anxious.
“It’s a little bear.”
He smiled. “It is.”
“I love it.” sThe bear was lumpy and misshapen, but unmistakeably a bear – it had a bear’s snout and little round ears, lined with a dark blue fabric. His eyes were of the same fabric, round discs of blue. It looked familiar. “Is this…?”
“Hyle’s idea. He thought you might like to still have something of Flat Jon.”
Brienne held the bear to her cheek, a lump in her throat. “That was a wonderful idea. Who made it?”
“I’d love to tell you it was me, but I have yet to master one-handed sewing. It was Septa Alys.”
“She did very well. Oh, Jaime, thank you. This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”
Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Better than a Valyrian steel sword?”
“Fine. Second-best, mayhaps.” She stood and kissed him, then wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in his shoulder. As he squeezed her back, she felt the tears return, and closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she repeated.
He kissed the top of her head. “You’re welcome, my love. But I shouldn’t take all the credit, I suppose. It was Hyle, too.”
“Then I’ll thank him, too.”
“Do. Not like this, though.”
She rolled her eyes, smiling, and broke away. “I’ll go and find him now.” She gave Jaime another kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetling.”
She found Hyle in the training yard, sparring with Pod. He seemed somewhat distracted; Podrick landed several blows on him, which seemed to surprise Pod as much as it did Hyle.
“Ser Hyle,” she called.
He turned. “My lady?”
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said, giving Pod a smile. “I just wanted to thank you for my gift.” She held up the bear.
“Oh,” said Hyle. So the Kingslayer had given him some credit after all. “It was Ser Jaime’s idea, mostly. I just thought of using Flat Jon’s… er…”
“Remains?”
“Yes.” He looked uncomfortable, but seemed to relax when he saw she was smiling.
“It was a lovely idea. Thank you.”
He nodded, looking embarrassed. “Septa Alys did well, did she not?”
“She did.”
“It wasn’t an easy task to make a bear out of… whatever that was originally. Ser Jaime and I found it at the market.”
“I see.”
“She’s a nice girl,” said Hyle. “I mean, septa. A nice septa. Do you happen to know where she came from?”
“She’s from Tarth,” said Brienne. “She grew up not far from here. Her family are good people.”
Hyle nodded. “Do you happen to know why she became a septa?”
Brienne scrutinized him. “You seem curious about her.”
“I’m not,” said Hyle. “She’s… Well, she’s a septa.”
“Yes,” said Brienne. “She is.”
They looked at each other for a moment, and then Brienne laughed. “Oh, Hyle.”
Hyle sighed. “Forget I said anything. Of course I… She’s a septa. Look, don’t tell the Ki—Ser Jaime about this, won’t you?”
“I won’t.”
“Swear it.”
“I swear.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Pod.
“Nothing,” Hyle snapped. He snatched Pod’s wooden sword from his hand. “I’m going to put these away,” he said, and stalked in the direction of the armoury.
“You know, they say true love always finds a way,” Brienne called after him.
He did not reply.