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Chapter Text

“Ser Jaime.”

When Jaime’s eyes found the figure of the woman he’d sent off from King’s Landing so long before, he had to take pause. It was as though he had been plunged into ice cold water, the way that all of his senses fired at once, his breath slapped out of his lungs.

“Brienne…” he whispered, his heart picking up its pace so that he could almost hear its frenzied beat in his ears. She’s alive. I knew that she’d make it. Jaime’s mouth felt as dry as though it had been stuffed with sheep’s wool, his tongue thick and unmoving. “It is a relief to see that you are whole, my lady. Tell me, how do you fare?”

Brienne stayed at the flap of the tent, seeming to hesitate. She was but a silhouette against the bright morning outside, which forced Jaime to step forward in order to see her better. Strange, he thought, that she should be so dark to me now, when in my dreams she’d always been so bright. Jaime continued to move forward until he was close enough that his eyes could focus on her remarkable eyes and see what she was thinking. Brienne always was so painfully obvious in her thoughts. Even if she would not speak with her mouth, her eyes said enough. Now, I cannot see or imagine what she must be thinking.

“Ser Jaime… or is it ‘my Lord’? I see that you no longer wear your Kingsguard armor…” she said, eyeing his new attire with suspicion.

“I was removed from the Kingsguard,” Jaime spat with resent, “by my own son.”

Jaime saw Brienne’s face shift then, a bit of the old wench that he once knew revealing sympathy for him like she did when he was wounded. In some way it’s as though I’ve lost my hand all over again, he reflected.

“How could that be?”

“Much has changed in King’s Landing since I sent you off with Podrick,” Jaime sighed, stepping yet closer to Brienne, “when the High Septon threatened my son’s queen, the Tyrells and the Kingsguard tried to threaten the Sept – they are out of control – but the plan backfired. Tommen has been turned to be under the Septon’s control. He relieved me of duty for my actions. He sent me from King’s Landing.”

“I am sorry, Ser Jaime. I cannot imagine…”

“It’s all that I’ve known, Brienne. That damned white cloak was supposed to mean something. Or perhaps I was supposed to invent its meaning by fulfilling my ‘honorable duty’. I don’t know. Now my father has gotten his wish, and duty is both the first and last thing in my mind.”

“Is that what brings you to besiege the Tullys, Ser?” Brienne said, her voice barely containing her anger. “Duty?”

Jaime frowned deeply, turned his head from Brienne’s intense gaze.

“Yes, duty. I am head of the Lannister army now, Lord of Casterly Rock, and my king has ordered me to retake Riverrun. What would you have me do, Brienne?”

Jaime watched Brienne’s eyes narrow and her back stiffen, drawing herself to full height. He had to admit that for a moment, he felt truly intimidated by her. It as though she sees through me, or at least imagines that she can. I am near convinced that she can.

“I would have you keep your oath, as I have done and continue to do,” she said with fierce confidence. Jaime looked over the girl – no, woman – in front of him and appraised how much she changed since they last saw one another. It is as though she has aged five years.

“Speak plainly, Brienne. I have no patience for dancing about.”

“I have found Sansa Stark, and have pledged myself to her, to keep her safe.”

“Truly?”
“Yes, my lord.”

Jaime bristled to hear her call her him that. Even though that title was his, Brienne knew that he did not want it and yet tested his patience by taunting him about it.
“Then why are you here and not at your lady’s side?” Jaime spat back defensively, instantly regretting it.

“I am here to request aid from the Blackfish,” Brienne said with venom, her neck reddening, “Which it seems may be impossible, as you have him and his forces under siege.” She stepped into the tent, until she was close enough to Jaime that he could feel the angered heat of her breath. “Does your word truly mean nothing? Did you merely send me away from you in order to acquit yourself of responsibility for my safety? What of your oath to Lady Catelyn?”

“Lady Catelyn’s dead, may I remind you, and as Arya is likely dead, I consider this oath—”

“Arya is not dead,” Brienne said, cutting him off. “I came upon her traveling with Sandor Clegane some time ago.”

Jaime sighed heavily and frowned to himself. If she is with Clegane, why has he not surfaced with her to demand ransom?

“What happened?”

“I fought the Hound,” Brienne said, her face showing the emotion of her struggle. “He was like a beast and fought with little honor. I managed to win and watched his fall off the rocks a long distance down to his death.”
“And Arya Stark? What of her?” Jaime asked softly.

“I lost her. She did not trust me, I suppose. Podrick and I searched for days, but were unsuccessful.”

“I see.”

“Perhaps you think that an oath is best dismissed as soon as one is able to claim it fulfilled, Ser Jaime. If so—”

“Where does duty end to one’s family, Brienne? Is it not my duty to maintain Lannister allegiance to our King? Was it not the case that Lady Stark’s fool son Robb was in direct opposition to the crown? I have already as good as committed treason by aiding Sansa Stark by sending you off with our gold and the Lannister sword.”

Brienne’s face clouded, her mouth turning down into a frown. Jaime saw her hand go to rest on the hilt of his sword, the one which his lord father had once wished would be their family sword to be passed down to Jaime’s heirs. She pulled the sword from its sheath and presented the sword to him, closing the gap between them.

“This sword is not mine. It never was,” she said, her voice quiet but resolved. “You are the head of the Lannister family now, and have a duty to protect your family with it.”

The sword remained suspended between them for what seemed an eternity. Jaime felt his anger rising in his throat, and yet he could not understand the meaning of it. He looked from the sword to Brienne’s lowered eyes.

“No,” he heard himself say before he could stop himself. “I do not accept it. It was my gift to you.”

“But as you said—”

“Shut up, wench,” Jaime bit off with annoyance, “Gods, what would you have me do? Call off the siege? Must I never threaten or harm anyone related to Catelyn Stark? Nearly everyone in the kingdom is related. Am I to sit on my one good hand until this war ends? If it does… Gods, do you think that I even wish to be here? In the mud with those damned, filthy Freys? Again, I ask you what you would have me do?”
“I would have you do what you think to be right and just, Ser Jaime.”

“Oh, I’ve tried that. I sent you off to protect supposed traitor Sansa Stark from my sister’s vengeance. I committed treason yet again when I released my brother from his cell where he sat accused of killing King Joffrey. I believed that was the right thing to do – that he did not commit the crime of killing his nephew the king. What did he do to thank me? He killed our father. I am cursed, it seems, no matter which choice I make.”

Brienne sheathed the sword again, her face troubled with the gravity of his words. You fool. Why must you tell her everything? Jaime turned away from Brienne then to face the back of the tent. I could be here for months. Years, as the Blackfish said, time that I do not have.

“I am sorry,” Brienne said, a note of sadness in her voice. Jaime felt soothed by those few words from her lips more than the touch of Cersei’s lips on his had ever accomplished since their family had been torn apart.

“I want to help you,” he said quietly, turning to face Brienne, “and Sansa Stark. Fool that I am, I wish to help you. Even before you arrived, I tried to fulfill both the king’s orders and my oath to Lady Catelyn. I offered to the Blackfish that if he would surrender Riverrun, that we would allow him and his men to leave unscathed.”
“You did?” Brienne asked softly, her eyes widening in that becoming girlish way that Jaime could not resist. She looked just so when I gifted her with that armor she wears now.

“Yes,” Jaime said, his voice catching in his throat, “And he refused. He would not accept my offer, the oath of a Kingslayer being worthless to him.”
“Jaime—”

“No. Don’t sympathize just yet with your Kingslayer. After his refusal and insistence that they could outlast us in a two year siege, I gave him a final offer last night. I marched with all eight thousand men to their gates and gave him a last chance to surrender. If he does not surrender by midnight tonight, we are to storm the gates. I fear that he is as stubborn as I am.”

“But he does not yet know that Lady Sansa lives. Nor does he know that you had a part to play in that.”
“And if he did? Perhaps it would sway him, but I doubt it. And then my crime would be known to all, soon enough.”

“Do you support your king, truly?”

Jaime paused, his eyes dropping to the lion hilt of Oathkeeper at Brienne’s hip. The way that her hand seemed always at the ready to draw her sword did not frighten him as it probably would to most. She is always at the ready, he mused, to make a moment’s decision that could end a man’s life. I once had that conviction, be it naïve or wise.

“And who is your king, if not Tommen? Robb Stark? I’m afraid he’s dead.”

Brienne looked troubled for a moment before she answered, “I do not think that kings matter near as much as we try to make them.”

Jaime had been prepared to snap off another retort, but upon hearing those unexpected words from Brienne, he could not. She has changed much, he thought, his troubled eyes softening as he looked upon the lady before him.

“My Lady has reunited with her brother Jon Snow after her forced marriage to the Bolton bastard. I was sent here to convince the Blackfish to bring Tully men to support their plans to retake Winterfell.”
“And what army has Jon Snow to speak of? Has he turned the Night’s Watch from the wall to fight for him?”

“No. He is allied with the Wildlings.”

“So, it’s true then,” Jaime said with a smirk.

“But he has not abandoned his vows. In the face of greater threat north of the wall, Jon Snow brought the Wildlings south to save them. He made a choice to save their lives from the greater threat. For that he was murdered by some of his brothers at The Wall,” Brienne said, her frown deepening. “He has since been brought back to life.”

Jaime let out a loud snort of disbelief.

“Murdered and then brought back to life? Surely you don’t believe this? And what greater threat exists other than the Wildlings? Is that not the entire purpose of The Wall? Surely you don’t mean ‘white walkers’? Those creatures exist only in nursery stories.”

Brienne’s face drew itself into a mask of defensive, tight-lipped seriousness.

“There have been many witnesses, otherwise I would not believe it either. I’m not entirely sure at times, that I do, but my lady Sansa does.”
“I don’t know what I am to make of this, or what I am supposed to do regarding those supposed ‘white walkers’, but especially not what I am to do regarding Sansa Stark’s need of Tully men.”

“Allow me the chance to change Ser Brynden’s mind. Lady Sansa does not have nearly enough men to mount this attack against the Boltons. I understand that they have 5,000 men between the Karstarks and the Umbers.”

Jaime looked with bemused appreciation at Brienne. “How many men does Sansa have?”
“But two thousand.”

Jaime rolled his eyes, “That’s madness. Suicide.”

“If they do not win back Winterfell, the Starks will die. She will die.”
“You realize that my offer to let the Tullys walk free knowing that the Starks are attempting to take back Winterfell would put me in yet another difficult position. They are considered traitors to the crown. What if they are to later declare war with the against the king?”

“They will not. Sansa does not want that, nor does Jon Snow. They merely wish to regain their house. To survive the coming winter. The fight the doom which comes from the north.”

Jaime’s face softened and he sighed.

“Then convince the Blackfish, if you can. I will hold to my original offer, even if it means my death.”

“Jaime – you needn’t die to keep your word. Come north. Take back Riverrun and give it to those foul Freys and be done with it. Come aid Sansa Stark with the thousands of men at your command. Lady Sansa needs your assistance, and… I need it. I need your help, Jaime.”

Jaime looked upon Brienne, into her beautiful pleading eyes, and wanted to say yes. His mind finally turned to Cersei, with her ongoing conviction that Sansa had murdered her first son. He thought of her defiant insistence on standing alone with that monstrous version of Gregor Clegane against all of King’s Landing. He thought of Tommen, such a young innocent king turned into a royal puppet. Their shared gaze had lasted so long that Brienne must have felt embarrassed at it, for she looked away from him for a moment before hiding her emotions behind a mask.

“I will try to convince the Blackfish, regardless of your decision regarding assistance,” Brienne stated formally, “However, if I am unable to persuade the Blackfish to surrender and if you attack the castle, honor compels me to fight you.” Brienne spoke those words with such cold determination that again it was as though he had been submerged in the water of a frozen lake, as he felt when she had first arrived. He thought of the words that he spoke to Edmure Tully the night before about killing all of the Tullys, if he had to, in order to get back to Cersei. They sounded hollow in his ears then, and even more so as he stood before Brienne of Tarth.

“My lady, I would not fight you, but neither can I be false to my word. And I gave my word that I would attack if they have not surrendered by my deadline. So strike me down if you must. If that is what is in your heart to do, then so be it.”

Brienne’s eyes wavered from their steely gaze. He saw her truly then, for but a moment. She does not want to fight me, but there’s a chance she would kill me. There’s a chance. Even if she does love me. I know that she does. I saw it in her gaze as she left me to find Sansa. But she would kill that love in order to do her duty.

“It would be fitting, you know,” Jaime said, swallowing down an overwhelming sense of sadness which threatened to overtake what rationality he had left. “That I should be struck down by that sword. Oathkeeper it is called, reforged from Ned Stark’s greatsword Ice.”

Brienne looked stricken then, as though she had been slapped by his golden hand. Her eyes became wet with tears, and Jaime thought for a moment to comfort her, but knew that he could provide little.

“It can’t be-”

“Wield it in honor of the Starks. In defiance of my father. And if you still have any affection for me wench, wield it for me. I never was very good at being a Lannister, and I’ve never wanted to be my father.”

“I will,” she said, as she struggled to contain her emotions. Some of her pale blonde hair fell in front of her face as she lowered her head, her lip quivering. “And I do.”

It took a moment of Jaime blinking stupidly at the woman whose eyes turned down so bashfully to her feet for him to realize the meaning of her answer. Before he could even think, he stepped up to her and reached up to tuck her hair back into place behind her ear, seeking out her gaze. Jaime’s heart beat faster, his hand trembling. When she finally met his eyes, it occurred to him that despite his desperate attempts to hold onto what he and Cersei once were, that he truly wasn’t sure anymore. She hadn’t made him feel this way. With Cersei, he was always begging for her love. She was stronger than him. Cersei, who gave and withheld love at will, wielding her power over him. That was not Brienne’s love.

I love Brienne in return, he realized, his heart seizing in his chest. I cannot let her walk into certain death, as I did before. He thought of Brienne as she rode away from him and King’s Landing – how he stood and watched her go. Then he thought to his own departure from King’s Landing and he knew at once that he had been trying desperately for ages now to make the love between him and his sister – an uneven and unfair work of fiction – his only truth.

Brienne’s eyes were becoming wild with a fear he had not yet seen from her, but she did not move to distance herself from him. His eyes moved from her sapphire ones down to her mouth and back again. He leaned his head toward her and found her drawing to him without any prodding. As their lips gently touched in a chaste kiss, he felt his insides wash with heat like warm waves crashing against his own shores. Brienne kissed him back, her uncertainty and desire mingling as she breathlessly sought to deepen their kiss into something more.

It struck Jaime that if he did not find his way to be at Brienne’s side during this battle along with a contingent of his men, not only would little Sansa Stark die, but so would she. He ran his hand through her hair and pulled her to him with determination, tasting her mouth for what could be the last time. Gods, all the time you knew that I would die for this woman, did you not?

When he pulled away from their kiss finally, their foreheads rested against one another. A tear fell from Brienne’s cheek to become his own, rolling down his face to his chin.

“I will not have you die, my lady,” Jaime said quietly, leaning in to kiss her again, gentle and courtly. The image of Cersei interrupted his kiss and then he remembered a dream that he had once, when he laid his head upon a weirwood stump. In that dream Cersei walked away from him into the darkness of an abyss below Casterly Rock, but Brienne remained at his side, lighting his world. Jaime felt as though part of himself was lost forever, just then. His years-long state of constant yearning for Cersei’s love – which was always held just out of reach – still was a part of him. By making the decision to turn against the crown and against Cersei, he knew that he was closing the door on that part of his life forever.

“Jaime?” Brienne asked quietly, interrupting the lengthy silence. She pulled away from him to look into his eyes, questioning him on his thoughts.

“I will leave Bronn in charge of the siege and lead a quarter of the troops away from the siege to find Sansa Stark and aid her. I must use the midnight deadline as an opportunity to put distance between my men and the crown,” he said, brushing a new tear from her face as she fought to regain control of her emotions. “It is too late to call off the siege entirely without raising the crown’s ire. Do your best to convince the Blackfish to surrender, but if you cannot, get his damnable stubborn self in a boat with yourself and Podrick and escape from all of this. I will find you again and help you and your lady both, whatever the consequences may be.”

“I’ll see you again, Ser Jaime,” she said, finally regaining her countenance.

“And I you, Lady Brienne,” he said as they turned to exit the tent together. Just outside of the tent there was a collision between Brienne and Podrick Payne.

“Oh, I beg your pardon, my lord and uh, my lady,” said the young and red-faced Podrick Payne.

“Oh, I know you heard everything lad, so there’s no need to act so embarrassed,” Jaime said gruffly, his eyes turning from the young squire to the looming castle and the field of red tents in between. “Just stay close to your lady and make sure that you heed her instructions closely tonight.”

“Yessir,” Podrick said, his eyes turned down as he seemed to turn even more red.

“Bronn!” Jaime yelled out at his right hand – one whom he could not trust with this ill-fated plan of his – and waved at him.

“I see you’ve reunited with Lady Brienne,” Bronn said, eyeing the two of them suspiciously. He doesn’t miss much, no matter how I wish that he would. Bronn smiled to himself a bit. He probably just won a bet from this.

“Please escort Lady Brienne and her squire to the gate to request a new parley with the Blackfish.”

“Another parley?” Bronn asked, his face showing his incredulity.

“Yes, another parley. Just do it, Bronn.”

Brienne took one last look at Jaime which caused Jaime’s heart to stop. She cannot help herself, he thought miserably, she cannot help but look openly at me with such love. I only pray that her love will not get her killed. If the Gods would hear me, I pray that Brienne will live through all of this - whatever it may be – that lies ahead.

Chapter Text

The sound of the oars breaking the water to move their small vessel forward would have been soothing in some other circumstance, but in a time of war, there was little peace to be found. Brienne stayed quite still, forcing her face to be as plain a mask of indifference as she could. She knew that Podrick was aware of more than he should be – he was far too perceptive of her moods - but the last thing Brienne wanted was for him to know how much this departure caused her turmoil.

He’s a good lad. He knows better than to make much noise. If any of the Lannister men see us leave, they won’t pause to ask for orders from Jaime or Bronn.

Jaime.

Brienne let out a great sigh.

I might have convinced the Blackfish to aid his niece, had I been stronger. Instead, I was weak. I gave into my childish feelings of…

Brienne could not even name those feelings in her mind, but she remembered Jaime’s eyes instead and felt that familiar ache in her heart. I thought that I had long since left those yearnings behind, she thought with disdain at herself. Yet, the way that it felt to have his eyes locked on hers back in the tent caused her such internal conflict that it felt as though she would fall apart from the war between her two selves.

Hope.

Fear.

Desire.

Shame.

“My lady,” Podrick whispered. “There are torches.”

Brienne’s head whipped around at Podrick’s voice, her mind back to the present danger that they were in, her heart quickening at the thought that they might be discovered.

“Stop rowing,” she hissed, straining her eyes against the darkness. Pod did as he was asked. He always did. The water carried them slowly into the reeds like a piece of detritus, their boat scraping against the fallen branches, setting her teeth on edge.

“Sorry, my lady.”

Brienne frowned, her eyes unable to differentiate anything beside the bright spots the torch flames created in the vast darkness. The moon was out, but was not of much help. The drawbridge lowered. Brienne sucked in a breath, her mind switching between the possibilities. If only I were closer, or could hear anything at all. The only sounds that she could hear were the sounds of frogs chirruping nearby, and the sound of Podrick doing his best to quiet his breathing.

“They seem to be crossing the bridge in great numbers,” Brienne said, almost to herself. “The torches – they’re moving so uniformly. It seems that there has been some sort of peaceful resolution.”

“Do you think that the Blackfish surrendered, my lady?”

“No,” she said, frowning further. “Perhaps. I suppose that he may have had a change of heart…”

“Should we go back?”

Brienne turned her eyes in an incredulous glare at Podrick.

“Go back?”
“Well, yes, m-m-my lady,” Podrick stammered awkwardly. “We don’t know if we may bring more good news to Lady Sansa, or not. I just guessed that if there was a surrender, perhaps—”

“No, Pod. It was dangerous for us to enter the Lannister camp in the first place. And we don’t have good news for Lady Sansa, so don’t speak a word of Ser Jaime’s offer.”

“But, my lady, Ser Jaime—”

“Ser Jaime has done all that he can do for us. He may have said that he’d supply some men for the battle, but the reality is that to do so will put him against his own family and the crown. You know that as a sworn sword to Lady Sansa that we are on opposite sides from him, now. It’s likely that he will realize the folly of his words.”

Those words, spoken out loud, pricked at Brienne’s heart. It was a sharp pain. It was the kind of pain that you saw behind your eyeballs before you knew what it was. ‘I will not have you die, my lady.’ My lady.

“Take up the oars again, Podrick. We have quite a bit more rowing until we can make sure that we’re safely out of danger,” Brienne said, closing her eyes lest more tears form as she remembered her last moments with Jaime Lannister. We’ll never be out of danger. “I’ll give you a rest, once we’re around the bend.”

She kept her eyes closed until the torches were pinpricks of light against her back. With each new breath she willed away her thoughts of Jaime Lannister, willed away the further tears that threatened to spill over him. By the time it was her turn at the oars, her mind had cleared of him. The current pulled their small vessel farther from Jaime Lannister, as did she.

##

Even with the current on their side, Brienne and Podrick were unable to get very far downstream from Riverrun by the time that the sun was fully out, exposing their passage. Exhausted, her hunger so fierce that it stuck in her throat, Brienne moored their boat at a location as remote from possible passers by as she could manage.

“Should we go inland to camp, my lady?”

“No,” Brienne said her throat parched, muscles stiff from rowing in her armor, “we’ll have to sleep in shifts here. The land is too marshy and we dare not leave our boat unattended.”

Podrick looked upon the uncomfortable interior of the small boat with resignation.

“I can take first watch, my lady. You must be exhausted from rowing,” Podrick said, his blinking in a way that suggested that he was trying to fend off sleep. “I can manage. Truly. You can depend on it.”

Brienne sighed, knowing that neither of them were in a fit state to keep watch, but that she was the worse for wear.

“Fine, Pod – wake me after the sun’s been up a while. We’ll get going again near sunset - if we’re lucky, we can make it to the crossroads by midnight.”

Brienne shifted about in the boat, with her cumbersome armor preventing her from reclining in the least. Podrick frowned at unsuccessful attempts to resituate herself into a sleeping position, before looking away with embarrassment.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, my lady. I just thought that since we are well covered by the foliage, that perhaps we ought to remove at least some of your armor.”

Brienne was about to tell him off, to remind him of the danger that they were still in, but gave up before she opened her mouth. With a sigh and a marked eye roll, she nodded at him.

“All right then. Go ahead, Pod.”

It was tricky maneuvering for Podrick, to disassemble her armor within such small confines, but he managed it. Piece by piece, he took off the plating which protected her upper half. I ought to procure some better armor for Podrick, she thought, as he removed the last piece. I hope that there will be time for him to practice in it against me, before the battle.

“There you are, my lady.”
“Thank you, Pod,” she said softly, her thoughts turned to the protection expected of her. Brienne shifted uneasily into the best position that she could manage, and closed her eyes. I can only pray to the gods that I’ll be able to protect Lady Sansa and keep my promise; gods willing, Podrick will manage to survive all of this, too.

Brienne drifted into sleep frowning at the divisiveness of the lines drawn in war, her hand firmly clasped about the hilt of her Oathkeeper.

##

Jaime passed her the beautifully hewn Valyrian steel sword, their hands brushing as she took hold of its hilt. The hilt felt perfect in her hand, as though it was the only sword that she should ever hold. Yet, it was the Lannister family sword. It belonged with Jaime. He reached his hand out again, as though to take the sword back, but he did not. He softly laid his hand over hers.

“It’s yours,” he said, his gaze turning slowly from their joined hands to meet hers. “It will always be yours.”

Brienne felt as though a heat spread from the sword into her hand, moving through her body, lighting her from within. As she held Jaime’s steady gaze, she noticed of a sudden that they were no longer in King’s Landing, but were back in the baths of Harrenhal. They were no longer separated by the length of the bath, but were standing together as close as they had been when Jaime first handed her Oathkeeper. Neither were clothed, and the water did not reach above their waists as they stood, but Brienne felt no shame.

“Ser Jaime,” she said in confusion, even though she knew that she was dreaming, “I cannot accept this.”

“Jaime,” he said, his voice a soft growl, as he moved in closer to her, “my name is Jaime.”

The feel of their bare skin touching caused her to shiver, her nipples hardened against his chest. Brienne felt him moving against her, his sex stiff against her thigh, and inhaled sharply.

“Jaime, I—”

“It’s yours,” he said, pulling her into a kiss. She felt as though her heart were about to burst from her chest, its pounding was so fast. She savored every moment, every minute sensation of their joined lips. The feel of his tongue against hers as she mimicked his movements exhilarated her to tears. She neither knew where the sword had gone to separate them, nor did she care. Brienne’s hands traveled instead to Jaime’s waist.

“I love you, Jaime,” she whispered breathlessly as he pulled from her kiss. He leaned into her again, his forehead resting against hers. She thought that he was going to return her declaration, but someone else spoke instead.

“Lady Brienne,” called Sansa to her, with some urgency.

Brienne hugged Jaime to herself, unwilling to let go.

“Lady Brienne,” Sansa said again. “Please wake, my lady.”

##

“It’s midday, my lady. I’m sorry to wake you,” Podrick said apologetically, his eyes turned away, his face and neck the color of a roasted beet. Oh, gods, what has Podrick seen from me during my sleep?

“Stop fretting and get some rest, Pod,” Brienne grumbled at him, unwilling to think on the long list of compromising situations that Podrick had found her in throughout their time together. There really was no such thing as privacy between the two of them. She had witnessed some things that she was sure that Podrick wished she hadn’t. Nonetheless, she thought of Podrick as a younger brother, and she imagined he had a similar view of herself. Still, she felt her ears getting hot from the embarrassment as she wondered at whether or not she had spoken in her sleep. And then she remembered another brother and sister for whom the relationship of chaste versus romantic love was inversed.

Brienne sighed to herself. He may have some love for me, she thought, but it cannot be more than exaggerated pity. How could he supplant his romantic thoughts of Cersei with thoughts of myself? I’m a fool if I waste my time thinking otherwise.

##

When they finally reached the Trident to disembark nearer to the crossroads, the moon was high in the night sky. They had not eaten in more than a day, so their hunger no longer resulted in sounds from their stomachs. For Brienne, it felt as though something was stuck in her throat. Their dogged steps away from the banks of the Trident seemed weighted even further by the apprehension that at any moment they could meet with trouble. Bandits roamed the roads waiting for an opportunity as good as two richly dressed and weary foot travelers. When the Inn at the Crossroads came within view, Brienne recalled their last visit and hoped that they would be lucky enough to find friendly shelter there again.

“Podrick, we will need to be on guard.”
“Yes, my lady.”

“If we are lucky, we’ll find no trouble here. Perhaps we may even have the chance to buy a pair of horses.”

Podrick sighed, loud enough that Brienne was meant to hear it.

“Do you not miss Sapphire?”

“We cannot afford to become over attached to anything or anyone. I accept that she is gone.”

“Yes, my lady. I understand.”

They were within a stone’s throw of the inn, the lights of the inn’s torches and firelight streaming from the windows inviting them closer. They watched the area for a good few minutes from behind some brush, to ensure that there were no surprises in store for them from without before they moved on to check the stable. It was necessary that they check the tack for any identifiers, in case they could spot foes before entering the inn door. As they entered the stable, the smell of horses caused Brienne to relent from her earlier statement to Podrick.

“I do miss Sapphire, Pod. How could I not?” Brienne said, as they peered at the saddles in the dark. “She was a fine horse. I just wish that I didn’t miss her so.”

It was a relief to Brienne that there were no identifiable enemies at the inn – that she could tell – but she knew better than to think them safe. When they entered the inn, it seemed that there were few awake that could be sober enough to recognize her, even if they were the dangerous sort. There were a couple of single men still awake enough to drink their ale, but minding their own business in their own dark corners of the room. Another pair of men were rather more wakeful, but seemed too busy guffawing about whatever to take notice of their entry. Brienne found a table in the corner, facing the others in the room. She would not permit herself to let her guard down even in this seeming haven.

“Podrick, go ask the innkeeper if they still have anything we might eat. It’s late, but there may still be some bread. And we’ll need a room for the night.”

As Podrick passed the pair of men to speak with the innkeeper, soon enough the eyes of the men caught notice of the boy. Then, they turned to look upon Brienne. She kept eye contact with the meaner looking of the two for a moment before turning her eyes to the door at the sound of a distant noise, her hand aiming for Oathkeeper.

Podrick walked back to their table focusing on not spilling the pair of mugs that he carried in hand. When he looked up to see Brienne’s expression, his back stiffened. He set the mugs on the table, his eyes expressing a question before she shook her head, indicating that he should act normally. They had been through this more than a few times, and their shared language of glances and nods was effective.

“Did you overhear what they were speaking of as you passed them?”

“No, I didn’t, my lady. But I saw that one of them was wearing Bolton leathers.”

“Bolton?”

“Yes, my lady – the flayed man. It was the one closest to the innkeep.”

Brienne turned her eyes to the man again, and saw that same man smiling menacingly at her before he used his fingers to illustrate a lewd gesture in her direction. Podrick turned his head just in time to catch the end of that, and immediately stood from his bench. Brienne reached out to grab Podrick’s arm, but could not quite reach.

“Pod!” she hissed at the boy, whose posture was already one of defense.

The benches of the two men across from them scooted back with loud scrapes as they rose to mirror young Podrick. Brienne had no choice but to stand, her hand on Oathkeeper’s lion pommel.

“I know you, Kingslayer’s Whore. Fucked any bears lately?” the man jeered, “Or is it just lions for you?”

“You’ll not speak to my lady that way,” Podrick said, his voice steady and fierce. Brienne had not seen him with such determination outside of their daily training sessions, and was dismayed that it should come out now. Her eyes flitted again to the door amidst this unfortunate scene – she heard noises of horses outside of the inn, men’s voices – and her pulse began to quicken. Should we be set upon by more Bolton men, we’ll be trapped. She looked over the man and recalled that she saw no Bolton insignias in the stable, and that his gear looked mismatched and quite worn.

“You’re a deserter, then, are you?”

“Makes no difference what I am. Makes no difference what any of us are, nowadays. Lords, kings… you don’t matter one bit.” 

The door to the inn opened with the arrival of the new guests, but Brienne could not see beyond the door to see who stood at the entry. The man’s eyes went to the door, though, and he froze.

“I have no desire to fight you,” Brienne stated, her voice in a growl. “We only mean to eat our bread in peace.”

“Lady Brienne, I should have known that you’d be inspiring fights in all corners of the kingdom.”
Jaime stepped out from beyond the door, accompanied by The Blackfish, followed by about a half dozen Lannister and Tully soldiers. It was the last sight that Brienne expected, but was most welcome. Interrupting her moment of relief was the sound of the Bolton deserter snorting out a laugh. Jaime turned at that and walked up to the man, staring him down from only inches away.

“What is it that you have yet to say? Out with it,” Jaime said with anger brimming in his voice.

“I don’t want any trouble, Ser.”

Brienne watched the scene, stunned. She could neither fathom why the Blackfish was in company with Jaime, nor why Jaime insisted on prolonging this encounter beyond what was necessary.

“You wanted trouble when this lady was defenseless at the bottom of that bear’s pit, or will you claim that you weren’t there?”

“That was – I didn’t put yer whore in there, mi’lord. I—”

Jaime cracked his golden hand against the man’s face as quick as a viper’s strike, sending the man stumbling backward to fall over the bench onto the ground.

“You speak of a noble born lady – Lady Brienne of Tarth. And she isn’t armed with a wooden sword as she was given in that pit. If I had not arrived, you’d likely be dead, you piece of filth. So thank me, apologize to the lady, and take your leave. After your deserter friend and you sell us your two horses for a ‘fair price’. I don’t care where you go, but you’ll not stay and ruin our well-deserved mugs of ale.”

The Blackfish shook his head, but the slight smirk on his face showed that he had some newly acquired, reluctant respect for Jaime Lannister. Brienne saw Blackfish turn to see her reaction and whatever it was that he saw, it caused him to nod in that knowing way that old men do when they think that some wise hunch of theirs has been confirmed. As the Bolton deserter regained his footing, he apologized profusely in Brienne’s direction, clutching at his bloodied cheekbone. The combination of the Blackfish’s look and the deserter’s forced apologies embarrassed Brienne, and brought her neck to a full pink flush. With a heavy sigh, she walked over to Ser Brynden Tully to offer a greeting.

“My lord, I did not think to see you here,” she said. She tried her best to let her embarrassment go, but it was hard to ignore the fixed look from Jaime Lannister, across the room.

“Yes, well, it seems that you and Lady Sansa managed to remind me of the Tully motto to some success.”
“Family, Duty, Honor,” Brienne spoke admiringly. “I know that Lady Sansa will be grateful for the assistance of you and your men.”

“Yes. Well, if I can accomplish something for Catelyn’s daughter before my time has passed…” he started, and then his face clouded. He’s thinking of his loss of Riverrun.

Brienne turned her eyes to Jaime. He was still watching her from beside the innkeeper, near to the fire. Her heart skipped for a moment as she stared back at him. She was undecided whether or not to go to him when her feet started moving her nearer to him of their own volition. When she reached him, she remembered her dream from earlier in the day, along with the many conflicted feelings that it caused her to go through. She then remembered their kiss from the prior day, and she wetted her lips.

“Ser Jaime,” she said, nodding respectfully for the sake of the others in the room.

“Lady Brienne,” Jaime returned with warmth, seemingly without as much thought to what the others might think. “I am glad to see you. You do know that you left your horses and equipment in the Lannister camp.”

“I did not expect to see you here, traveling aside Ser Brynden and his men.”
“You did not trust my promise from yesterday, then?” Jaime asked a bit defensively.

“Th- That’s not it, Ser.”

“Please stop calling me that,” Jaime said with a sigh.

Edmure Tully entered the room, late to arrive from the stables. He looked about the room as though confused. It seemed that he had no idea of the small altercation that had taken place. Brienne saw him and immediately her thoughts went to Catelyn Stark, Robb Stark, and finally, Sansa. She stiffened.

“Nevermind, Ser Jaime. I am glad that you will be joining us north. I imagine that your men and the Tully men are not far behind?”
Jaime stood in silence for a moment, his eyes shifting between hers, his brow knitted in apparent frustration.

“I am bringing all 8,000 men to the fight alongside the Tully forces,” he said, quietly. “It shall be up to the Freys to manage that keep.”

Brienne’s eyes widened at the number.

“But… what of—”

“Follow me to the kitchen so that we may speak more privately,” Jaime said. His eyes never left hers to so much as glance at their company, all of which were very interested in their conversation. He lead her into the kitchen, which was only lit still by a single candle. He walked toward its light and turned to face Brienne, his eyes pleading.

“What of anything?” he whispered fiercely at Brienne. His left hand enwrapped hers which rested still on the pommel of her sword. “My father wanted me to keep up a legacy which I cannot in good conscience continue. All that I have the will to do regarding his damned legacy is to destroy it. Like Oathbreaker, I aim to reforge it anew.”

Brienne was stunned into silence by his words. His hand relaxed then, but he left it to rest upon hers. He watched her eyes closely, the two of them sharing a gaze which said nothing and everything all at once, until he grasped her hand with his and raised it to his lips. Brienne’s heart raced. Her mouth parted in a gentle sigh as he kissed her hand, all the while his eyes never leaving hers. Brienne swallowed thickly as they stood together in that heady silence. His eyes again traveled between her eyes and her mouth, as he leaned into her.

“We should go back to the room to join the others, Jaime,” Brienne said in a nervous voice, regretting her words as soon as they were spoken.

Jaime’s disappointment was writ large on his features at that moment, but he nodded in agreement. Releasing her hand, he looked up at her eyes, still seeking some answer from her. Brienne found that she could not move, her heart and mind battling over whether or not she should give in and kiss him. I love him, she thought, her heart wildly. I would tell him if I only knew that he would leave Cersei behind him. Jaime smiled at her, as though he could hear her thoughts. I love him.

“Come on Brienne, let’s go get a bite of stale bread and a drink of watered down ale before we get some sleep. I’d say that we deserve a rest.”