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Tywin

“They have my son.”, Tywin moaned, the world around him feeling blunted and dull as he tried to give order to his thoughts, make sense of his situation. “They have my son.”

People were talking around him, discussing, complaining, wondering how this had happened, trying to make plans. Tywin tuned them all out, focusing on his own thoughts.

“Out. Out!”, he roared, into sudden silence. One by one the men filed out, until only a surprised looking Tyrion and his little brother remained.

And the messenger, looking very uncomfortable.

“What?”, Tywin snapped in his direction. “What do you still have to say?”

“There’s one more thing…”, the man said. Tywin glared.

“There is a girl.”, the man said, not looking at him directly.

“A girl.”, Tywin repeated, flatly, feeling anger rise in him.

“She shared Ser Jaime’s tent for the past two or three months, at Riverrun.”, the man said, quickly, evidently sensing that Tywin did not have any patience left.

Tywin felt his eyes twitch. A part of him was intrigued, remembering that there had never even been rumours of Jaime bedding anyone, how serious he had taken his vows, but the greater part of him dismissed these thoughts.

“My son has been taken.”, he snarled. “What do I care about some whore he decided to bed before? Why are you wasting my time?”

“Not a whore.”, the man said, cringing. “The daughter of Lord Selwyn of Tarth, the Evenstar.”

That gave Tywin pause. Beside him, he heard Kevan or Tyrion twitch, clothes rustling and armour clinking.

“Jaime was bedding a noble woman? Really?”, Tyrion asked, interested.

The man nodded. “They were discreet.”, he said, which probably meant it had been common knowledge.

“You are sure?”, Tyrion insisted. Tywin was glad of it. This was important; if Jaime bedded a noble woman, a potential child out of the union could be legitimised, could be an heir to Casterly Rock.

“Where is the lady?”, Tywin asked, curtly, as the man confirmed again.

“She came with us.”, the messenger said. “She had initially insisted on staying back to try and rescue Ser Jaime, but she was made aware of the strength of Riverrun’s defenses, having worked closely with Ser Jaime on strategy, and we managed to convince her to leave when we found her on the edge of the battle field.”

Tywin wondered if this was a euphemism. Why would some pretty dainty lady from a noble house be interested in war strategy?

He swiftly had to correct his initial assumption when the lady was sent for, and arrived.

She did seem young, maybe twenty at most, but she was of a height or taller than most men Tywin knew. She had broad shoulders and thick arms and legs, barely any chest to speak of, and a homely face with plump lips, a nose that looked broken several times, countless freckles, and lanky pale hair. In short, she was quite ugly. Tywin tried, and failed, to imagine her beside Jaime.

“You have shared my son’s bed in recent months?”, he asked, incredulously.

She shifted uncomfortably, unable to look him into the eyes, and started blushing.

“I...I...yes.”, she finally mumbled. “I did.”

“And you are the Evenstar’s daughter?”, Tyrion asked beside Tywin.

She nodded. “My name is Brienne of Tarth.”, she said, still not meeting any of their eyes.

“And what are you doing here?”, Kevan asked on Tywin’s other side.

Luckily, she did not insist on being pressed to share details.

“I met Ser Jaime at the Hand’s tourney in King’s Landing.”, she said. “I won the melee. Ser Jaime approached me afterwards to congratulate me, and we talked and we…”, she stumbled over her words, darted her eyes around the room, then stiffened her shoulders. “We got along.”, she said, and gulped. Tywin wondered what she wasn’t saying; they had already determined that she had fucked Jaime, after all.

“When he left King’s Landing to rescue you, Lord Tyrion, I decided to come with him.”

“Why?”, Kevan asked. “Even if you...got along with Jaime, don’t you have other obligations, being high born? Didn’t you have a male escort?”

She shrugged. “I am eighteen, my lord, and have had three failed engagements. I have given up hope on finding anyone else, so I decided to come to the main land to prove myself in other ways. There did not seem to be any reason not to go with Ser Jaime.”

“Did he make you any promises?”, Tywin asked, sharply.

“No, my lord.”, she said. “He is kingsguard.”

“Yet you lay with him.”

She seemed to blush even more. “Yes, my lord.”

She gave no further explanation. Tywin sighed. He had to assume that she spoke the truth, for the moment at least. Further inquiries would surely be possible. Even if Jaime’s army had been broken up, lower foot soldiers would have escaped and could be found, and rumours like that spread.

“Could you be with child?”, he asked. She still avoided his gaze.

“It’s too early to tell.”

He nodded.

“Then you will stay with us until such a time as you can tell.”

“No, my lord.”

“What did you say?”

“No, my lord. Thank you, but I have to leave. I swore I would rescue Ser Jaime.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”, Tyrion asked, sounding curious. “Riverrun is heavily guarded, and Jaime their most valuable prisoner. Surely you can’t just march in and get him, as much as I wish that was possible.”

“It does not matter.”, Tywin said. “You will do no such thing. You will stay with us until it is clear that you are not with child, or until the birth of the child, should you be. Afterwards, you may leave and do whatever you wish.”

She seemed angry. “Why? As I said, Ser Jaime made me no promises. This child, if there is one, is a bastard, with no ties to anyone but me. You have no confirmation that it even is Jaime’s; I could have lain with anyone.”

“Did you?”, Tyrion asked, leaning forward.

She seemed to blush even darker, if that was still possible, her face turning splotchy, and squirmed. “No.”, she admitted. Tywin nodded. She did not seem the type to attract the attention of any man; it was quite surprising she had attracted Jaime’s attention. No wonder none of the ladies Tywin had put into Jaime’s path had ever tempted him if his interests were so clearly different.

“Then it is decided. You will stay with us.”

She drew herself up, for the first time meeting his eyes.

“Am I to be your prisoner, then?”, she asked.

Tywin rolled his eyes.

“Yes.”, he said shortly, then called out for some guards, asking them to guide Lady Brienne upstairs into one of the inn’s rooms, over her sputtering protests and attempts to free herself. He did not have time to deal with this.

It became quite clear over the next days that the guards had been more than necessary, as Lady Brienne attempted several times to leave, injuring several guards in the process. Tywin felt forced to triple her guard, and ensure she had no access to any kinds of weapons. This became especially necessary when within the week it became increasingly evident that the lady was, indeed, with child. Jaime’s child, if his information was correct. A potential heir to Casterly Rock.

Lady Brienne was going to come to Harrenhal with them.

Brienne

Two weeks into her stay in Harrenhal, Tywin presented Brienne with a letter from her father, and asked her to write an answer. He did not tell her what he had written, but from her father’s answer she concluded that he had no qualms in sharing clearly what had happened between Jaime and her – not that her slowly changing body left any doubt - , that he was asserting a claim to the child – presumably more or less depending on the gender - and would be taking care of Brienne intermittently, in whatever capacity. Brienne’s father thanked him profusely for taking care of her and asked, as politely as he could, that she be sent on to Tarth.

There was no question as to whether Lord Tywin would be willing to do so, not just because he had made abundantly clear that he would not give up a potential heir to Casterly Rock while Jaime was imprisoned, but also because in the meantime Renly had declared himself king, and Tarth was, ostensibly, sworn to him. Brienne was not informed if her father had declared for Renly or had seen the threat of his only daughter and heir in the hands of the grandfather of the rival king as enough of a threat to try and stay neutral.

Lord Tywin had tried to make her stay in Harrenhal as comfortable as possible. As she had been given her own tent on the journey, had ridden close to him and shared his table, here she had been given a spacious room in the same tower he occupied – though, she did not fail to notice, in the top most and most easily guarded room – she was still invited to all his meals and provided with all she asked for, other than sharp weapons. The level of trust was surprising, or rather frightening, did it after all confirm that Lord Tywin would not let her go. Brienne did not want to imagine what would happen should she loose the child. She mostly avoided thinking about it, made easier by the fact that she could not see herself as a mother. It might have been that she had no memories of her own mother, or her unwomanly body, but Brienne tried and failed to imagine herself tenderly taking care of a small child.

After Tywin had left her with her father’s letter, she sat still for a while, fighting a blush, unable not to think of what her father must have felt when he had been informed. Back when she had been with Jaime, there had of course always been a little voice in the back of her head, reminding her that her maidenhead was a lady’s most valued possession, that even ugly as she was, she was still a noble lady and expected to marry some day. That at that time, her future husband, though he would most likely hate her, could still expect her maidenhead to be intact.

It somehow had mattered little under Jaime’s heated glance, when he had made her feel so good. And another part of her had wanted, not just Jaime, but to have this one thing for herself, to know how it was to make love with someone who actually wanted her. Why should she save her maidenhead for someone who did not cherish her, who would at best perform his duties until she was with child and then leave her alone?

Yet still it was different knowing her father now knew of her indiscretions. What must he think of her? She had already been disappointment enough, though he had never shown it. Now even the pretence that one day she might find a suitable match was gone. She was going to be a spoilt woman, either married off quietly or ignored as much a possible, with a bastard child. Her father had not written to her personally, or if he had she had not been given his letter, but tone in his letter to Lord Tywin had been polite and distant. Still she could imagine the disappointment he must feel.

Brienne swallowed and forced herself to lie out the paper Lord Tywin had given her, take the feather, but could not think of what to say. Her hand wandered to her stomach, barely starting to round out with the child growing inside of her.

She desperately missed her sword. She was still guarded by at least ten armoured men wherever she went, and denied access to any kind of weapon, or even the armoury and training grounds. After two days of this, she looked for a fire-poker and went through her sword drills with it, suspiciously watched by her guards. Their derisive looks made her long for Jaime, the first man to openly encourage her sword fighting skills. But even the physical exercise could do nothing to distract from the fact that she was with child, that a baby was growing inside of her.

Theoretically, Brienne had always been aware that she was supposed to have children, heirs one day. For Tarth and for her future husband. However, the distant idea of producing heirs as a duty was very different from the reality of having a life grow inside of her.

She was going to be a mother! How could she ever be a mother? Ever glance in the mirror showed her that she was different, unfeminine, strong and man-like; there was nothing soft of motherly about her. The idea of her with a small baby in her arms, nursing or hugging a crying child, was preposterous. All she knew was how to hit things with a sword. How could anyone trust her not to crush the child in her huge hands?

Even the idea that her body was capable of being pregnant was abstract to Brienne, despite the obvious signs to the opposite, despite the castle’s maester’s assurances. How could a body such as hers, built huge, plain and muscular, no soft curve in sight, be able to produce a healthy baby?

After she had forced herself to write a few awkward and stilted sounding lines to her father, assuring him that she was well and taken care of, promising to make him proud in whatever way she still could, Brienne went to see Lord Tywin. The letter itself felt like a failure. Brienne had wanted to apologize, but did not know how; she wanted to assure her father that she was going to do her best and be a good daughter, but could not find the words. She wanted to tell him that the line of Tarth was not going to end with her, at least, no matter what dishonour the circumstances might bring their house, but the actual idea of a healthy baby brought into this world be her was unimaginable.

“My mother died in childbed.”, Brienne said, standing in the entrance of Lord Tywin’s office. He had been brooding alone over some maps, but had shoved them into a neat pile when she entered. On her words, he seemed to freeze for a few seconds, his face showing no emotion. Then he slowly sank back into his seat and gestured for her to come closer.

Brienne obeyed. Despite being in the early stages of her pregnancy, she felt tired a bit more easily already and did not want to remain standing for the entire conversation.

“Jaime’s mother also died in childbed, didn’t she?”, Brienne asked. Lord Tywin’s facial expression, if possible, seemed to freeze even more.

“There were exceptional circumstances.”, he said. “She did not have a normal baby. And she was of a delicate constitution.”

Unlike Brienne, staid unsaid. Well, that was something in her favour at least, Brienne decided.

“You do not know if I am having a normal baby.”, Brienne said. “There is no way to tell.”

“Is there any history of abominations born in your family?”, Lord Tywin asked crudely. Brienne, thinking of Tyrion whom Jaime clearly adored, flinched. She also had to think of her own unusual appearance.

“Extraordinary height is not uncommon in my ancestry.”, she said carefully, unwilling to think of whether anyone would call her an abomination. Lord Tywin just nodded. “Then that should not be an issue for you during the birth.”, he said. “Did your mother die bearing you?”

“No, my younger sisters.”, Brienne said. “Twins. They did not survive. I also had an older brother, though he drowned.”

“If your mother had no issue with your birth, I do not see why the birth of an unusually tall child would be an issue for you.”, Lord Tywin said. “House Lannister could use a strong male heir.”

“What if it is a girl?”, Brienne asked.

He levelled her with a look. “This is of course not an unlikely outcome.”, he said. “A son would be preferable, but a daughter might also be used to an advantage.”

“I do not want my child to be used to advantage!”, Brienne complained.

Lord Tywin snorted. “You are a noble lady, surely you know of duty and responsibility. Every noble child is a bargaining chip in the game of power, and your child will be no different. This is better for all of us. Don’t be sentimental.”

Brienne sat there for a moment, stunned. It was not that she didn’t know most nobles saw their children as little more than figures in a game, but it was shocking to hear it expressed so clearly.

“Was there something else?”, Lord Tywin asked.

“What if I don’t survive the birth? What if there is no living child?”, Brienne heard herself asking, feeling quite detached from her body. These questions had been plaguing her, but she had not quite dared voicing them.

“If there is no child, there is no child.”, Lord Tywin said brusquely. “Nothing to be done about that. If you don’t survive, it won’t matter. A son will still be legitimised as Jaime’s heir; a daughter married of to advantage or married to a bannerman to carry the Lannister name. I would prefer your presence for the childhood, but it is not necessary.”

Brienne nodded. At least the child would be cared for. At least if it was a healthy boy.

“And when Jaime returns?”, she asked.

Lord Tywin furrowed his forehead.

“He is not gone on a short visit to Riverrun, he is held hostage. Depending on how this war ends, he might be killed, held indefinitely, or indeed, be freed to us soon. I am of course hoping and working on the latter.”

Brienne refrained from suggesting he let her go so she might try freeing Jaime. Even were her body not slowly betraying her, and would continue to do so for a few more months, Lord Tywin had made clear she wasn’t to leave Harrenhal.

“We will assume the worst, and hope for the best. House Lannister can use more than one heir.”

Brienne nodded.

“If...if the child is not needed anymore.”, she said, then considered. Lord Tywin raised an eyebrow.

“House Tarth has need of an heir, too.”

Lord Tywin nodded. “I will discuss the matter with your father when the time comes.”, he said.

“All I ask is that, if the child is not of import to you any longer, you allow it be legitimised for Tarth.”

Lord Tywin nodded curtly. “Should for any reason the child become worthless to House Lannister, I will guarantee it.”, he said. “But I do not expect this to happen. More heirs to the house mean a stronger presence on the game board.”

Brienne nodded mutely and stood.

“Thank you, mylord.”, she said, then laid her haphazardly penned letter in front of him. “I wrote an answer to my father.”

Then she left the room and went out into the courtyard.

Brienne had heard stories aplenty about the cursed castle of Harrenhal in her youth, and it did have a foreboding presence. The sheer size of it was hard to comprehend. It was clear that most of it had been neglected, though Lord Tywin clearly intended to reactivate all of it, and for that purpose brought in people from everywhere, forced to clean, repair, cook and serve. Joining Lord Tywin for meals, when he often met with his bannermen, Brienne was horrified to learn where these people came from, and more horrified learning what happened to those who were not brought to the castle. Lord Tywin made repeatedly clear that he did not just accept but expected his men to ravage and pillage, burn and salt, rape, kill and enslave in all but name, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. He left no doubt that he was playing a game he intended to win whatever the cost, and peasants were an expendable resource.

Jaime had talked with her about such things, trying to warn an inexperienced minor noble girl from Tarth away from following him into war that went far over her head, though she had barely listened, dreaming of the glory of battle for a righteous cause, for the rescue of his helpless brother – though in the end Lord Tyrion had freed himself – and believing in honour above all. Even now she found herself wondering what Jaime would do were he in her place. He was not as shy as she was, and must have some sway over his father; would he urge for fairer treatment of the people, for caution and honourable behaviour? Or would he accept the suffering of the smallfolk as a price to pay in war? Would he turn the other way and reject responsibility?

Brienne was technically aware that she probably tended to see Jaime in a light more positive than he deserved, ever since that night they drunkenly shared a bath in King’s Landing and he had told her the story of his kingslaying. It had been a rude awakening, but had also made her believe in Jaime, despite all the stories. She was aware that he had done many horrible things since then, that he was not a good person, but she also believed that he wanted to be a good person if given the chance, and she wondered how far he would have been willing to go.

In the end it did not matter how much she tried to rationalise it, her heart beat faster whenever she remembered his easy smile, his gentle teasing, the way his warm body and compact muscles had felt under her hands. The fact that he was easily the most handsome man in Westeros, and much as she wanted to be above such shallowness, clearly she wasn’t.

But these were futile thoughts, and discussion of Jaime was mostly to be avoided in Harrenhal, as Lord Tywin made his displeasure known.

A few days after Brienne had written the letter in answer to her father, assuring him that she was treated well and would like to leave, but couldn’t under the current circumstances, Lord Tywin sent the cook to her to discuss the menu for dinner. Confused, she provided her input. The next day, the castle steward waited in front of her rooms after her morning session with her fire poker with the household ledgers in his arms. He gave her an expectant look until she asked him inside, barely glancing at her fire poker, then proceeded to hand over the ledgers to her, assuring her that everything was entered to the best of his abilities but he would be willing to answer any questions she had, and that she could take the time with the ledgers, but should he not have them back the next day, he kindly asked that word be sent.

Brienne stared at the ledgers confused after he left. She could not think of a single reason why he would bring her the ledgers. Had she said anything implying she needed information? Had her face on hearing of the way they filled the stores said more than she had thought?

In the end, she opened the ledgers and started reading. She had never had a hand for any of the things expected of her and widely preferred issues she could swing a sword at, but she had learned household calculations, and been better at it than sewing at last. It did not take long for her to make sense of the numbers and notes, to do the sums and conclude the current situation of the castle.

The amounts of food and other products brought in daily, used and stored were staggering. Evenfall hall was not a small castle, but it bore no comparison whatsoever to the monstrum that was Harrenhal. For some time, she just sat over the closed ledgers and stared into space, trying to imagine the quantities.

Then she got up and dutifully returned the ledgers to the steward, who just asked if there were any questions, nodded when she answered in the negative, and went back to his work.

On the way back to her room, she was stopped by the cook again, who wanted to discuss the menu for the coming week and the food to be allotted to the servants. Brienne, now with a much better idea of how many people needed to be fed, but also of what was available, found herself actually able to give feedback and convinced the cook to increase rations of the servants to ensure their ongoing health. Then she went back to get her fire poker, because the situation called for some simpler distraction.

Unfortunately, going through her steps until they were perfect and swinging a fire poker, being eyed distrustingly by her ever present guard, did not clear her confusion. It did make her wonder what her guard reported back to Lord Tywin about her, though, as he did not seem the kind of person not to collect reports on an involuntary guest if the opportunity presented itself. Well, at least she would probably hear about it soon if she was doing something Lord Tywin did not approve of.

There were no further information given regarding the ledgers, but from that day the steward showed up once a week with the newest updates and answered any questions she asked about them. Additionally, she was informed whenever new stores were brought into the castle, asked to help assigning them, had regular reports from the servant overseers regarding the renovation and household management of the castle, and continued to discuss the food distribution with the castle head cook.

No further information on why she was given these responsibilities were incoming, and so Brienne came to understand that Lord Tywin was trying to make her Lady of the keep. It did make sense insofar as she was the highest ranking lady in the castle, but Brienne still wondered as to Lord Tywin’s further motives. Did he intend to keep her as his housekeeper at Harrenhal, or, if she had a son, at Casterly Rock? Surely that was out of the question, whether she was the mother of its future lord or not.

That his position came not just with work but also with power only occurred to Brienne almost a month into her new position when a raiding party returned to the castle with a large group of tired, stumbling and in some cases bleeding peasants among them. Brienne was being informed of their numbers and distribution and upon inspection found that several of the new involuntary servants were hurt or sick. Brienne immediately asked for the maester to come look at them, ensured they had warm and comfortable quarters and enough food, and insisted that they were not to join the work force until they were healthy. The ensuing discussion with the overseer resulted in Brienne deciding to keep an eye on that overseer, as he insisted he had to work all the other servants to the bone should he not be given the maximal workforce, no matter their health. She started looking for him whenever she could in the coming days and found him abusing the servants frequently.

Brienne put a stop to it whenever she ran into such a situation and explained patiently that she did not wish these things to occur. The overseer seemed to think it meant he had to abuse the servants out of her sight so she decided to take a risk and accept that her new role as Lady of the keep came with some responsibility.

She called together the overseers and castle steward, pretended to be Jaime scolding his soldiers and told them abuse of servants would no longer be tolerated and any major punishments would have to be run by her first. Things seemed to be improving in the coming days, though Brienne found her workload greatly increased with trying to keep an eye on the servants, at the same time as dealing with unfamiliar bouts of tiredness the measter assured her were caused by her preganancy.

She threw two men into prison, replacing them with servants she hoped to be more competent, and drunk of her new-found power, also imprisoned one of Lord Tywin’s men regularly sent out to do his will when she found him raping a crying serving girl in the corridor. She sent the girl to the maester, but found there was nothing else to do.

The consequences of her newfound power caught up with her when Lord Tywin asked for her presence a day later.

“I have heard that there are three men in our cells.”, he said, when she entered and sat unasked in a chair. He was writing something and did not look up when he spoke to her.

“Yes, my lord.”, she just answered.

He kept writing for a while longer, then, when she still didn’t speak, lifted his head for a second.

“Why?”, he asked.

Brienne gulped. “I found them abusing servants.”, she said. “If I am responsible for the servants, I don’t want them mistreated.”

Lord Tywin resumed writing.

“A soft heart has no place in governing.”, she said. “That concerns the battle field as much as a household.”

“The servants will work better when they are healthy.”, Brienne said.

“They will work better when they fear the consequences otherwise.”, he answerd.

“They work as best as they can. Consequences for skipping work are not the same as abuse.”, Brienne said. “These men were using excessive force. One of them was raping a girl. That is wrong, fear or not.”

The man was still writing, but he was lifting an eyebrow now. Brienne sat there, feeling foolish, waiting for more lecturing. Instead, he just asked: “What do you intend to do with them now?”

“Do with them?”, Brienne asked, feeling even more foolish.

“Surely you do not wish for them to stay a guest in our cells indefinitely.”, Lord Tywin said. “That would require them to be fed, and they’d take up space, without any benefit or reason whatsoever.”

Brienne sat there, stumped. She thought furiously, mercifully uninterrupted by Lord Tywin, who took a few more minutes to write whatever he was writing, then read it over, blew over it to dry it, then folded it up and sealed it with his ring.

“I have given them ample warning.”, Brienne said, when he finally looked up again. “I made the rules clear. They did not follow the rules, so they will bear the consequences. I wish to execute them.”

Lord Tywin lifted his eyebrow again, but nodded.

“I see.”, he said. “I will instruct the jailor to bring them out tomorrow around midday, unless you wish to delay.”

Brienne breathed deeply, feeling unsettled and as if the weight of her decision was crushing her. These were not good men. One of them had forced himself on a helpless girl in a hallway. Another had beaten a child bloody. The third had wounded an old servant permanently.

“May I have a sword for this?”, she asked.

“A sword?”, Lord Tywin inquired.

“For the execution.”

For a moment, the Lord sat still, studying her. Brienne forced herself to sit still. She was all to aware of her looks, and she was almost seven months along in her pregnancy.

“You wish to execute them personally.”, Lord Tywin said finally, flatly. “That is not a task for a lady. I have men…”
“I have made those rules, I have jailed those men and I have condemned them to die. How can I do that if I am not willing to see this through to the end?”, Brienne asked.

Lord Tywin leaned back and thought for this, but finally nodded.

“I will arrange for a suitable blade to be brought to you tomorrow morning.”, he said.

As promised, a heavy sword was delivered to Brienne the next day. She gripped it carefully, testing the weight. She had spent so long training only with her trusted fire poker she had started thinking of names for it. It felt good holding a sword in her hand again, though she shied away from thinking why she was given the blade.

The sword was not sharp enough, so Brienne went to the armoury and asked for sharpening tools. The smith was clearly confused by a woman holding a sword, and was even more clearly unhappy with a pregnant woman sharpening a sword, eyeing her protruding stomach while she worked, but when she told him she needed a sharp blade because she was going to execute three men that day, he got white and shut up quickly.

Murmuring voices followed her the entire morning. That was usually the case, but they seemed louder that day. An hour before midday, a group of Lord Tywin’s horrible men returned to the castle, with some wagon loads of stores and a group of tired, crying and stumbling peasants. They were herded in the courtyard where all other staff members were slowly accumulating. At midday, Lord Tywin appeared on a balcony. Brienne, who had sat with her sword and guarded by her usual guard strengthened by another ten men, in the corner, got up. Lord Tywin didn’t say anything, only watching.

The men Brienne had condemned were led into the courtyard, to the executioner’s block. An excited murmur rose from the assembled people as Brienne walked over to them, her sword clearly visible, same as her stomach.

Brienne had thought long and hard about what to say. A speech, reminding everyone of the rules she enforced here, in Harrenhal. A prayer to the seven. A chance for an apology. But in the end, she could not open her mouth. She just waited until the first man was pushed into position, lifted the sword and let it fall with as much force as she could muster. The sword cut through the neck like through butter, and for a second Brienne felt bile coming up.

“I just went away in my head.”, she heard Jaime say in her mind, but Brienne knew exactly what she was doing in why. She forced herself to stand still as the corpse was removed and the second prisoner was brought in, babbeling. Again the sword rose, and fell, not accompanied by any words from her, and a third time. Afterwards, she stood for a moment. She looked at the balcony, where Lord Tywin was watching. She looked over the watching crowd.

Then she went to take stock of the newly arrived peasants, her bloody sword by her side, and watched with awe, confusion and fear.

Like usual, Brienne’s rules were clearly not obeyed outside of the castle and a number of the newly arrived people bore wounds that did not bear to much thinking about, or were sick. She noted the numbers, ensured the sick and wounded were sent to the maester, and mustered the rest.

Her look fell on a black-haired child watching her like a hawk, and for a moment she stopped and stared. The child looked back without flinching.

Brienne doubted her first impression immediately. How would Arya Stark, sister to Robb Stark, the king in the north, and presumable hostage in king’s landing, make her way here, to Harrenhal, dressed in rags and looking like a muddy peasant? But Brienne had always been able to recognise faces easily and this was a face she knew. She had never spoken with the Starks, and Arya had not been at the hand’s tourney, where Brienne had won the melee, but she had been around, and Brienne had seen her. She had seen the way she moved, and she had noted her.

The girl did not give any indication she recognised Brienne as she was assigned, but then Brienne had not made a big splash despite winning a melee in King’s Landing. She did, however, behave different from the rest of the servants, more self-assured and deliberate. There was little doubt in Brienne’s mind.

Unsure what to do about that, Brienne went to clean her sword. Then she boldly went to the armoury and asked for it to be exchanged for her own blade, as she didn’t need it for executions anymore. No one stopped her as she was given her own blade back. She refused to show any doubt, took her sword, cleaned and sharpened it and then went to the training yard to finally go through her drills with a sword again. It felt wonderful.

No one stopped her, and no one stopped her when afterwards she took the sword back into her room and stored it there. And no one stopped her when the next day, she girdled a belt bellow her growing stomach and hung the sword there. Satisfied, she went to see Lord Tywin.

“Good morning.”, he greeted her. “That was quite a...display yesterday. Was it to your satisfaction?”

“You wanted people to fear me, my lord.”, Brienne said, sounding more confident than she felt.

“I am not sure fear is the word for it.”, Lord Tywin mused. “This is not how a lady should do things.”

“You did not stop me.”, Brienne said, then flinched as something fluttered in her stomach. Her hand rose to cover it. Lord Tywin’s gaze followed the movement.

“I did not.”, he said, after a while. “You may continue.”

“May I take a ladies maid?”, Brienne asked.

Lord Tywin still did not show any reaction.

“As you wish.”, he said and then went back to his work.

Brienne went and found Arya, and requested her as her personal ladies maid.

“I’m Brienne of Tarth.”, Brienne told her, after the girl had followed her back into her rooms. “I’m an...involuntary guest of Lord Tywin’s, thanks to my...state.” She gestured to her stomach. “Though I am evidently in a much better position than you.” She cringed. That was not what she had wanted to say, and it seemed not a good idea to immediately share that she knew they were both high born ladies. “I need someone to attend to me, especially as the baby is growing. Could you do that?”

The girl watched her closely.

“If you wish.”, she said. “Though I don’t have much experience.”

Brienne grimaced, desperately searching for something to say.

“What’s your name?”, she settled on, feeling very awkward.

“I’m Nan.”, Arya said. “What do you need me to do?”

What Brienne needed her to do was mostly keep her company and stay save, though she had her help keep her rooms clean and clothes washed, bring food and keep her company while eating – hoping that that would allow the girl a more balanced diet, too – keep her rooms warm with the approach of autumn, and accompany her around the castle. Lady Arya was careful about what she said, not letting slip much and not providing much of a source for rumours nor an approach to the serving staff, but it also took her little time to gather enough confidence to comment on things in a snarky manner.

It took her less than a day to ask about the display she had been forced to witness upon her arrival.

“They had abused servants.”, Brienne said. “I don’t have much power outside of Harrenhal, but Lord Tywin wants me to oversee the household, so the least I can do is to keep the worst of them in check. One of them had raped a barely grown girl.”

Arya stared at her for a moment, then nodded in approval.

“They deserved death, then.”, she said confidently. Then, after a moment deliberation: “I didn’t expect you to do that, though, my lady. Isn’t there usually an executioner?”

“I sentenced these men to death, I felt like I should be the one to carry out the sentence.”, Brienne said uncomfortably. She was still mostly avoiding to think about it. She wondered if Jaime had ever executed someone, or just killed people in war, or maybe skirmishes. She had heard that men in Ned Stark’s employ had died under his command, though she wasn’t sure if Jaime had been personally involved in the killing.

The child in her belly kicked, distracting her. Brienne’s hand flew to her stomach.

“My father said something like that once.”, Arya said.

“Like what?”

“That you shouldn’t sentence someone if you’re not willing to carry out the sentence yourself or something…”, Arya mumbled.

“Your father was a wise man.”, Brienne said somberly, then hastily added: “Or sounds like it.”

Arya just nodded and went back to her task, while Brienne watched her, uncertain how to proceed.

“Would you like to join me in training?”, she asked Arya on her third day, catching longing glances from the girl during her morning drills.

“Yes!”, the girl said, then caught herself and looked down a bit more demurely. Still she could not contain her excitement.

“You would teach me?”

“I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to teach you.”, Brienne said, gesturing ruefully to her belly. “But if you’re willing to take it slow, I can show you some forms. It would be good to have a training partner once more. Surely Lord Tywin can not prohibit me training with my lady’s maid.”

Arya looked very excited by that idea. Brienne examined her critically.

“We will need to get you a lighter sword.”, she said. “It’s always good if you acquire the muscle to use a heavier sword, and you never know when you’ll have to depend on whatever weapon is closest, but you’ll have the best results with a weapon that fits your stature.”

Arya opened her mouth, looked thoughtful, closed it again, seemed to deliberate, then opened it again.
“I had a sword.”, she said. “An...heirloom. One of them took it. If you order them to return it, I might be able to get it back.”

Brienne wondered if it had been a sword belonging to one of her siblings. Her father had carried a greatsword, Ice, that could easily be taller than Arya and surely was not a weapon she would want to train with. Or maybe Arya had gotten the sword a different way. It did not matter. Brienne wrote her a permission slip to get the sword of her choice from the armoury, and the next day Arya appeared with a very thin blade, looking extremely happy. It seemed Lord Tywin had completely lifted restrictions of Brienne’s access to sharp objects.

“It’s called Needle.”, Arya said to Brienne’s questioning look, and confidently went into a fighting stance.

Arya’s inclusion greatly improved the training sessions. To Brienne’s great annoyance, she was barely able to train herself, except very slowly going from one position to the other, skipping a few that required a balance she didn’t have anymore, but while Arya clearly had had some sort of training – maybe it had been her own sword after all – it was a very different style from Brienne’s, and she found she enjoyed guiding her through the movements more familiar to her.

The next one and a half months, Brienne spent training with Arya, seeing to household matters that were still her responsibility and joining Lord Tywin for some meals. Neither her nor Arya were barred from listening to most conversations with bannermen and minor lords, and Brienne could easily see how much Arya wanted to her news from her brother.

Brienne’s water broke right in the middle of a discussion that had unfolded after breakfast with some bannermen, a bit more than eight months into her pregnancy, by the measter’s and her best estimate. Brienne, not wanting to annoy anyone, politely excused herself, and then sent Arya to fetch the Maester and the midwife.

Later, she could not remember much from the birth. The Maester and the midwife both told her that it had been a comparatively fast and easy affair, but to her it had felt like an eternity of unbearable pain.

Maybe she should not have been surprised that it were twins. Both her and Jaime came from a family of twins; it surely was not that unexpected. But neither the Maester nor the midwife had realised beforehand. Lord Tywin, when he appeared some time after the birth, had looked inordinarily satisfied, but had not said much.
In the end, the sun had not even gone down when she sat in her bed exhausted, helplessly holding her sons in her arms, not daring to move.

“They are so tiny!”, Arya said, peering at them curiously from the side.

“They are!”, Brienne agreed desperately, unwilling to move for fear of hurting them. They were incredibly tiny, and felt so fragile in her hands. The midwife had pressed them in her arms resolutely, as if she would know what to do, and had helped them latch on to her breast, which had been a very awkward feeling.

She was a mother now. Galladon and Duncon were her sons. Her, and Jaime’s. There were golden curls on top of both their heads, though their eyes were blue, like hers. The Maester had warned her that baby’s eyes often were blue directly after the birth, but Brienne felt like maybe they had inherited her only non-ugly feature.

Jaime had constantly mentioned that he loved her eyes. She wondered if he would be happy. If he would be a good father. She did not feel like a mother. She felt like a knight whom someone had pressed two incredibly fragile and tiny babies onto. How was she supposed to do that? She was barely a woman, how could she be a mother?

Just then, one of the twins shifted, making a soft gurgling song, opening and closing a tiny fist. Brienne panicked. “Arya!”, she said, trying not to move while her heart sped up. “What do I do? He…?”

Before she could finish the sentence, or a shocked-looking Arya could answer, the door opened and two women entered, both with small children on their arms, led by Lord Tywin.

“These are your wet nurses.”, he said, without breaking stride. “They will assist you in taking care of the children and take over the nursing as soon as possible. I have allowed them to keep their own children with them for the moment; if you do not wish so, we will find an alternative arrangement.”

He threw another extremely satisfied look at the tiny bundles in Brienne’s arms and left the room again, the door closing behind him with a bang that startled Galladon, who started making noises.

Brienne stared at him, helpless. “What am I supposed to do?”, she asked, panicked.

“I’ve got it, my lady.”, one of the women, a pretty brunette said. She sat down the child in her arms, which looked about a year old and stood on uncertain legs, clinging to her skirts. She picked up Galladon and gently rocked him back and forth. He quietened immediately. Brienne breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly this woman knew what to do.

“I am Dolly.”, she said. “And this is Tom, my son. He turned one last month and I would have long since stopped nursing him, but Lord Tywin promised me, him and my man a secure position in the household if I nursed him until I could take over as wet nurse for you. I hope you don’t mind if Tom is staying with us? Lord Tywin said we’d be staying in an adjacent room with the children?”

“Not at all.”, Brienne said, trying to use the same rocking motion on Duncan, who had awoken in her other arm but was silent for the moment. She felt horribly awkward and clumsy.

“Your man?”

“He got a position in the guard and is currently watching the tower.”, Dolly said. “He won’t be here with us, but I’ll see him enough for the moment, and maybe he’ll take Tom sometimes.”

She smiled reassuringly. Brienne tried smiling back, still feeling exhausted. Then she looked at the other girl.

“I am Adelaine, my lady.”, the girl said, curtsying. She came closer and showed Brienne the child in her arm. “This is Leyna, my daughter. She is nine months old and also ready to stop nursing.”

“She is very cute.”, Brienne said politely. At least the little girl didn’t look as fragile as Galladon and Duncan.

“So are yours, my lady.”, Adelaine said. “What are their names?”

Brienne introduced Duncan and Galladon to them, and after Adelaine set the sleeping Leyna down in the adjacent room that Brienne had not been using but which had apparently been freshly cleaned out, she took Duncan.

Adelaine and Dolly calmly explained everything they were doing and what needed to be done, and when Duncan and Galladon started squirming, they tried nursing them. As Leyna and Tom weren’t weaned yet, they wanted to slowly wean them and start nursing Duncan and Galladon, such that Brienne would still need to nurse in the beginning, until they could take over completely.

Brienne nodded along with everything, feeling out of her depth and extremely glad for the two women, who seemed much more competent and better with children than herself.

After nursing, Adelaine and Dolly took all four children into the adjacent room to let Brienne rest. She felt very tired and wanted to fall asleep immediately, but she caught a glance at Arya and suddenly realised why the girl looked so spooked. She had called her Arya, hadn’t she?

“Arya.”, she said softly, fighting to keep her eyes open when the door had been securely locked.

“Since when do you know?”, the girl said.

“Since you came to Harrenhal.”, Brienne admitted. “I saw you in King’s Landing, when I came for your father’s tourney. I’m not going to betray you, I promise. Please don’t be frightened.”

The girl snorted. “You’re not going to betray me to the father of your children?”, she asked.

“The father of my…? How would I?”, Brienne asked. “He isn’t here, is he?”

“Lord Tywin?”, Arya asked, suspiciously.

“What? No! He isn’t their father. He’s their grandfather.”, Brienne corrected.

Arya was silent for a minute.

“The dwarfs?”, she asked. “Or the kingslayers?”

“Jaime.”, Brienne said, not even finding the energy to blush. She had given birth just a few hours ago.

“Isn’t he kingsguard?”, Arya asked, frowning.

Brienne shrugged.

“It wasn’t planned.”, she said. “It just...happened. And then he was taken prisoner, and when Lord Tywin learnt that I might be carrying his children, he took me captive.”

“Captive.”, Arya said sceptically.

“I certainly don’t want to be here. You might have realised that there are always guards around me and I wasn’t allowed weapons until recently. I intended to leave immediately. I swore to free Jaime from your brother.”

“You never will.”, Arya said confidently.

Brienne sighed.

“I swore an oath.”, she said. “But I don’t expect I’ll be able to break into Riverrun. Maybe I can strike a deal. Maybe if I help you return safely, your mother will take pity on me.”

Arya snorted. “Unlikely.”

Brienne shrugged, yawning. “I won’t give up. But I certainly won’t betray you, either, no matter what. I’m not on their side. Will you stay with me for the moment?”

Arya hesitated for quite a while, visibly mulling it over. Finally, she nodded, but Brienne had already fallen asleep.

Much to Brienne’s annoyance, it took her weeks until she felt able to move normally again, and even then she was not at the level she had been before her pregnancy, when she tried to swing a sword again. In consequence, she took as much time to train as she could, pushing her body to the limit as much as possible. It took her several days to realise that there was no longer a guard of twenty men whenever she trained.

“The twins stay in the tower, and under constant guard.”, Lord Tywin told her, when she asked. “You may command your guard to your discretion.”

She didn’t miss his disapproval of the idea of her leaving, and Brienne did not want to leave her sons behind, but at least they would be with Dolly and Adelaine, who were very nice and much more competent with the children than her. She decided to test her limits immediately by asking for horses from the stables and some food, dismissing her guard. She then left Harrenhal together with Arya to go on a ride of several hours.

No one tried to stop them.

After she returned, she was called to Lord Tywin, who expressed deep disappointment in her leaving the castle without any guard, but did not expressly forbid further excursions. He also handed her a letter stating that she was under his protection to show in case she was captured by anyone loyal to his house.

Brienne’s household managing chores had ground to a much lower level while she had been recovering from birth, and she did not attempt to resume them, ignoring the gentle encouragement from Lord Tywin. She felt quite guilty for planning to leave her sons behind, but was assured that Lord Tywin would do absolutely everything to keep them safe. Being a mother still did not feel natural to her, and she was glad of Dolly and Adelaine. Brienne and Arya started accumulating food and other essentials for leaving without further discussion.

Two and a half months after the birth of her sons, Lord Tywin told her, without looking up from his notes, “Catelyn Stark left Riverrun going south.”

They were sharing breakfast, as they did most days. Brienne carefully avoided looking at anything but her eggs, lest her eyes follow the girl behind her.

“She is being sent to negotiate with Renly?”, she asked, after thinking a few minutes.

“Or Stannis, though most likely Renly.”, Tywin agreed. “It doesn’t make a difference. Neither of them will be willing to give up the north, even if it would guarantee them the rest of the realm.”

That seemed the most likely deal she was going to bring. Brienne couldn’t be sure that Robb Stark wasn’t willing to bend the knee to either of them as long as they promised him revenge for his father as well as his sisters safety, but she had concluded long since that Lord Tywin was a better judge of character than her. It grated on her that the reason was that they both approached the judging a similar way – but she usually believed the best in people, while he believed the worst.

“Are you going to attempt to capture her?”, Brienne said, unsure how she felt about it. Surely, his mother and his sisters – as he still believed both of them in King’s Landing – would be a better exchange for Jaime than just the sisters. On the other hand, she had seen the type of warfare Lord Tywin led, and none of it convinced her that he would be a good and just king. Or hand of the king, as it were, but there was no doubt who would actually have the power.

Lord Tywin raised an eyebrow at her.
“She is going to ride through enemy territory, with a significant honour guard of highly trained men.”, he said. “Even if I managed to get a large enough group of men in there to actually overwhelm them and capture her, it is unlikely they will find her, even if she follows the open road. Which she is unlikely to do.”

It was not a no, but meant that he estimated low chances of success and so would not put a lot of manpower into it. Likely he was just going to strengthen patrols sent in the most likely direction and allow them to go further, and maybe send a few more so that, in case any of them actually chanced upon her troupe, they could band together and attempt a kidnapping.

In other words, Lady Catelyn would reach the Stormlands most likely unharmed.

Where she would be much more approachable than in heavily fortified Riverrun. No one would be able to take her, there, but talk to her…

After breakfast, and another set of sparring in the courtyard – Brienne was not about to go slack on her training, and it wouldn’t do to change her daily schedule now – Brienne saddled their horses and took Arya on another ride around Harrenhal. They went north this time, and galloped through forest and open fields until the area was clear for as far as they could see, with no chance of anyone spying on them. They had been going on rides every day for a month now, and Lord Tywin had only sporadically sent guards with them, though he had expressed his displeasure. He still didn’t trust her; but her sons were of far greater value to him.

Here, out in the fields, on a lovely hill with a view on the autumn forest, Brienne and Arya made plans.

Five days later, their daily ride took them south. This time, they did not return.

Finding Renly’s army did not provide a challenge. There had been a few close encounters on the south, and twice they passed a raiding party. Only once were they forced to actually raise weapons, when they were surprised by a group of six bandits on a bridge they were not able to avoid. Brienne killed five of them, and Arya the sixth.

The camp of the army, near Bitterbridge, was not easy to miss. Brienne had to stop her horse and stare when the the field of tents stretching until the horizon came into their view, and she heard Arya’s sharp intake of breath. Neither said anything for a few minutes, then Brienne goaded her horse to start walking again.

No one stopped them when they rode into the camp, though some looks followed them. Brienne kept her head high and tried not to make eye contact. The banners seemed to belong half to bannermen of the Reach and half to houses from the Stormlands. Brienne recognised most of them and murmured their names to Arya riding beside her, who did not comment, just looked around wide-eyed, her hands clutched to the reins of her horse.

“Lady Brienne?”, someone called, startling her. She looked around wildly, then saw a middle-aged man waving from the side. It took her a few moments to recognise Ser Aemon Estermont, the son of Ser Eldon Estermont, who was a bannerman sworn to house Baratheon and Storm’s End.

“Ser Aemon!”, she greeted him, trying to settle her voice and face into a friendly manner, though she suspected that she did not succeed. She did not have many friends among Stormland nobility.

“Come to finally pledge Tarth’s allegiance?”, he asked. “Just in time for the tourney!”

It turned out that her father had, indeed, been hesitant in declaring, probably because of Lord Tywin holding his only daughter, though he had sent word of support. She also learned that there was to be a melee in three day’s time, in honour of Lord Renly and his young bride, Lady Margaery Tyrell, and over one hundred knights were expected to participate. Ser Aemon was quite talkative and happy to share information about the different houses present, their slow process north and various entertainments Renly had organised. There was no mention of any message or presence from house Stark, not even when Brienne carefully steered the conversation in the direction of the kings waiting in the north. According to Ser Aemon, none of them provided much of a challenge to Renly anyway, who would just sweep in take the throne and be the most beloved king in centuries.

“She probably hasn’t arrived yet.”, Brienne said, when they managed to politely leave Ser Aemon behind. Arya just nodded.

Renly was quite surprised to see her, when she was led to him.

“Has Tarth come to declare, after all?”, he asked. “I feared your father favoured Stannis after all, when nothing came but messages.”

Brienne, who found herself quite overwhelmed standing once more in front of the man she had dreamed of for months, had to clear her throat several times to find any voice, and felt herself grow more red as she spoke.

“It wasn’t his fault, my lord.”, she said. “I assure you, my father wanted to declare for you, but I had fallen into the hands of Lord Tywin. I only managed to escape a few weeks ago. I assume my father was worried for me. And Tarth does not have any great army to speak of, to send in your support.”

Renly just laughed at that, looking joyful and youthful and beautiful, and Brienne was again reminded of how kind he had been to her. But she also found herself unable not to compare his laugh to Jaime’s. Jaime’s laugh, when he was truly happy, not faking it for the audience, held a special place in her heart.

“That is a tragic tale, indeed!”, he said. “And now you have come to join me?”

“I heard there was a tourney.”, Brienne said, still blushing.

“Indeed there is! To honour my beautiful bride.”, Renly gestured to Lady Margaery, sitting beside him and looking, as a matter of fact, very beautiful. Brienne tried not to compare herself with her.

“May I compete?”, she said instead.

“Compete?”, Renly said surprised. “Not a very ladylike activity, is it? But why not! If you wish to, feel free to compete. There will be a prize of the winner’s choosing. Until then, you are welcome to join me at my table for dinner! I trust you will find a place and a tent to spend the night? And who is that with you? Your servant?”

“My squire.”, Brienne said. Renly laughed again. It didn’t sound mocking, but it didn’t sound very respectful, either. Brienne tried to imagine Jaime reacting to her introducing her squire. He would have laughed, too, most likely. Jaime rarely took things serious, at least on the outwards appearance. He had always supported her wish to fight and be as close to a knight as possible. He probably would have approved of her having a squire. That wouldn’t have stopped him from making fun of her for it, though.

Brienne spent the days leading up to the tourney training aggressively, but realising to her chagrin that almost nine months of reduced to non-existing training had left her reflexes and familiarity with the motions she had practised for most of her life greatly reduced, not to mention her stamina and raw strength, which would still need a long time to recover completely from pregnancy and giving birth. Her trusted mare, which had followed her from Tarth to King’s Landing, into battle with the Lannister armies, to Harrenhal and now here, likewise had to get used again to the chaos and confusion of battle.
Nevertheless, the meeting with Renly had awoken some memories of how she had looked up to him, how kind he had treated her, and the wish to impress him. She dreamed several times of dancing with him, but every time he turned into Jaime before she awoke. When, the next day, she learned that one of her suitors, Ronnet Connington, was set to participate in the melee, her determination increased even more.

Arya usually joined her before breakfast and in the evening, but spent the rest of the time roaming around the camp and talking with the servants. There was, unfortunately, no sign from Catelyn Stark, nor much talk about the northern forces at all. Instead, people saw Brienne resolutely training and started talking about her and her squire. Brienne, used to such talk, mostly ignored it or used it to further fuel her determination, but Arya took it harder.

“They are all idiots who need to be taken down a notch.”, she said furiously after she came back from her mission on the second day, but refused to go into detail. No one had heard anything from the Starks approaching Renly. Brienne and Arya discussed leaving again in the direction of Riverrun after the melee, but couldn’t agree on what was the best option.

By the day of the melee, Brienne was reasonably sure that she would be able to hold her own for a while, but had to admit that she was not going to win. Nevertheless, she resolutely joined the melee, encouraged by an enthusiastic Arya, who had managed to shove through the thick rows of onlookers to shout and wave for her. Her technical skills soon proved themselves to be on parr with most of the participants, but she tired quickly. Her stubbornness allowed her to carry on, felling or avoiding opponents, until she managed to unhorse Ronnet Connington. His furious visage as he yielded to her was enough to satisfy her, and she left the melee, battered and bruised but without any serious wounds, the field behind her thinned considerably.

She immediately started looking for Arya, expecting her ready to help with her armour and the horse, but when she found her, she wasn’t paying any attention to Brienne.

Lady Catelyn had arrived.

They did not speak to Lady Catelyn immediately. Brienne had assumed that they would, that Arya would declare herself and join her mother as soon as she could, but to her surprise Arya insisted on secrecy.

“Information is valuable.”, she said. “Nobody knows where I am, and it’s better if it stays that way, as long as possible. Our enemies know that they don’t hold me, but they shouldn’t know that I’m back with my family either.”

So instead they watched Lady Catelyn greeting Renly and being invited to use his tent, and then Brienne took Arya back to their meagre tent to take care of the horse and free herself from her battered armour.

There was a feast in the evening, and Lady Catelyn joined Renly at the high table. Arya spent some time pretending to wait on Brienne while throwing surreptitious glances at her mother, until Lady Catelyn left. Then, she snuck out after her. Brienne spent an hour or so sitting miserably at her place, being ignored by the men around her, and trying to enjoy the food, before she, too, gave up.

On the way out of the castle she ran into Arya.

“Stannis is besieging Storm’s End!”, she said.

Brienne blinked.

“What?”

The question of what Stannis Baratheon was doing had come up frequently at Harrenhal. Most assumed he was not going to accept his brother’s claim to the crown, but nevertheless expected him to either attack King’s Landing or try to enter into negotiations. The idea that he was going to attack his brother first had not come up.

“Mother was talking with Renly when a messenger came to inform them. Renly’s gone inside to discuss the next steps, but mother has returned to her tent. We should talk to her.”

Brienne just nodded and followed Arya.

Lady Catelyn Stark had been housed in Renly’s gigantic tent in the middle of the camp, a structure that would have been called a house if the walls weren’t made from Canvas. Two of the men Lady Catelyn had brought with her south were guarding the entrance. Brienne did not recognise them, and if Arya did, she did not show so, instead staying in Brienne’s shadow while she requested an audience with Lady Catelyn and was led into the tent, where she was received by an exhausted, but polite looking Lady Stark.

“Lady Brienne of Tarth.”, she Lady said. “You fought bravely in the melee today.”

“Thank you, my lady. I did not get as far as I had hoped, but I am honoured that you noticed.”, Brienne said, then tried to find the right words.

“Is there something I can do for you?”, Lady Stark asked, noticing her discomfort.

“Might we speak alone?”, Brienne asked. “I can leave my swords outside, if you prefer.”

Lady Stark raised an eyebrow.

“Of course.”, she said. “No need to leave your weapons.”

She waved the men attending her out of the tent. They bowed politely and left. Brienne didn’t say anything, just stood there awkwardly. Lady Stark, noticing that they had not been completely left alone, looked at the small shadow at Brienne’s side, opened her mouth to say something, then looked a bit more closely. Her eyes widened. Arya stepped out of the shadows and defiantly lifted her head. Lady Stark gasped, lifting a hand to her mouth, and a moment later Arya had flown from Brienne’s side into her mother’s arms and was clinging desperately.

Brienne politely turned aside, feigning interest in the fabric of the tent as she heard sobbing and frantic insurances behind her. She would have preferred to leave the tent, but assumed Lady Stark’s men would see that as their sign to return, and she wanted to talk with Lady Stark herself before that was the case. Nevermind that Arya might not want to be known to them, either.

“My Lady.”, Lady Catelyn said, her voice still slightly rough from crying. “Thank you! Thank you for bringing my daughter back to me.”

Brienne turned back. Mother and daughter were still clinging to each other closely, but seemed to have reached a calmer point.

“It was an honour, my lady.”, Brienne said. “But please do not thank me. I cannot deny I have acted for a selfish reason, and there is something I seek in return.”

Lady Stark stiffened slightly.

“If you want money…”

“Money is not a concern, Lady Stark.”

“Then what….?”

“She wants Jaime Lannister.”, Arya said.

“The Kingslayer?”, Lady Stark asked, sounding bewildered.

Brienne nodded. “I have sworn to see him freed.”, she said. “I am aware that this is not an easy feat, and not your responsibility either, and so I cannot demand you hand him over to me for bringing your daughter back. But I am hoping we can find an accord.”

“She likes him, for some reason.”, Arya said. “And she really wants him back. She did promise to bring me back to you, even if that won’t help her get him back, though. And Brienne was very nice to me; she protected me at Harrenhal and helped me defend myself.”

There was no mention of Brienne’s sons. Neither did Arya mention that she could defend herself very well. Lady Stark might not be very happy to hear about Arya’s sword fighting.

Brienne and Arya had spent a lot of their time south training together, and while riding Arya had occupied herself with needling Brienne about Jaime. Brienne had been reluctant to say anything, but apparently her unreasonable infatuation for Jaime had come through, as Arya had declared her “disgusting” and expressed hope of never growing to the age where she would give up her ideals for a pretty boy. That had sparked some discussion on honour, right and wrong, though Brienne had not felt it her place to show the real story of Jaime’s kingslaying. Apparently she still had made an impression on Arya.

Lady Stark nodded.

“It has been a long day.”, she said. “And my daughter has just been returned to me. No matter the reasons behind it, I thank you for that, Lady Brienne.”

“Just Brienne, please. I am not a lady.”

Lady Catelyn smiled at that. “Thank you, Brienne. I will think about your request. Will you stay a few days here? I do not know if you have heard of Stannis arriving in the Stormlands, but I am hoping to broker an accord that leads to a treatise with king Robb, my son.”

“I will stay for now.”, Brienne confirmed. “I did not promise to stay with Renly, but I think I have a place in this army, representing Tarth, at least.”

“I’ll stay with her.”, Arya said. “We’ve told people I’m her squire, and they’d wonder where I stayed.”

“Her squire!”, her mother said, affronted. “You are a princess! And a noble lady.”

“So is Brienne.”, Arya said cheerfully. “But not much of one, in either case. And it might be of advantage if no one knew you’ve got me back. I’ll stay with Brienne until you leave, and then I’ll come with you. Maybe Brienne can come with us, too.”

It was a march of several weeks first east along the rose road and then south along the king’s road to reach Storm’s End with the army. Brienne and Arya stayed close to Lady Catelyn and her entourage, but did not join when Stannis and Renly met to negotiate, while Lady Catelyn did.

They met her afterwards in a pensive mode.

“Stannis claims he is the rightful heir to the throne.”, she told Brienne. “He says that Queen Cersei’s children a incestuous bastards by her brother.”

Brienne needed a few minutes to absorb the information. Her brain started working furiously, shining new light on her interactions with Jaime in King’s Landing, and reminding her of every time he had spoken about Cersei. How adamant he had been that they never got close to each other.

“I...did not know, nor expect that.”, she finally managed. “But I cannot refute the possibility. This might also have been the reason that your lord husband was disposed of so quickly after king Robert’s death.”

Lady Catelyn, her face darkening further at the mention of her husband, nodded.

“There is a sept nearby.”, she said. “I will pray for guidance. Stannis and Renly are set to meet in battle at sunrise. Will you join me, Arya?”

Arya, though not particularly religious, followed her mother, while Brienne stayed back, still thinking.

Jaime had talked a lot about Cersei, in their time there, and often in a tone that she had not been able to assign, but was brought into new context now. He had also mentioned several times that he had become a kingsguard for her, and stayed in King’s Landing as much as possible for her. It had seemed exaggerated care of a brother for his sister at this time, but seemed much more abnormal now.

And yet, he had slept with her. It had seemed unbelievable that anyone would want to share her bed, never mind the beautiful brother of the Queen, who also had sworn an oath of celibacy – and oh, Brienne still could not believe how unimportant that had seemed to her at that time – but it seemed even more unbelievable now that she realised that her rival had been the Queen herself, the most beautiful woman in all of King’s Landing. If Jaime had been on the Kingsguard for her, had her for his lover, why would he ever show any interest in Brienne? What was she, in comparison to beautiful Cersei Lannister? Why would he cheat on his sister with her, why would he leave his sister behind in King’s Landing and take her with him as his lover, especially as he had already given up on all his vows for her?

He had seemed conflicted about Brienne from time to time, but he had never acted as if she was a replacement for anyone else. Brienne had never had the impression that he wasn’t fully aware who he was sleeping with, had never even thought that he imagined anyone else. And surely she and Cersei could not be more different from each other.

Why had he taken her to bed? Why, if his first love and lover was his beautiful twin?

And what would Cersei say, when she learned that Brienne had born Jaime two sons?

Brienne tried to find some sleep, but couldn’t stop thinking for a moment. After tossing and turning for a while, she got up again and readied their belongings to be able to leave at a moment’s notice. Not long before dawn, Lady Catelyn and Arya passed by.

“I believe Stannis.”, Lady Catelyn said. “The princes are bastards, and so he is the next rightful heir to the iron throne. This must have been what Ned discovered, too. I will talk to Renly, he must agree to join up with his brother to defeat the Lannister bastard and treat with Robb.”

Renly was in his tent, getting ready for battle with only the help of his trusted Lord Commander, Ser Loras Tyrell, but they were admitted, too. Unfortunately, Renly did not seem willing to listen to Lady Catelyn, seeming quite set on the battle.

And then there was a shadow with Stannis face, and a sword, and a desperate scream from Ser Loras, holding Renly in his arms, and suddenly people where entering the tent and swords were drawn.

Brienne, overwhelmed, acted on instinct, killed a guard, disarmed a second, then fled the tent with Arya and Lady Catelyn. They stopped only long enough to collect Brienne’s and Arya’s horses which had waited fully saddled close to Renly’s tent, as well as Lady Catelyn’s men, and then left the camp as quickly as possible while confusion rose behind them.

“It was a shadow! A shadow with someone’s face!”, Arya kept repeating, unbelieving.

“Stannis face. And he has a red witch with him.”, Lady Catelyn said. “I saw them both yesterday. And he had burned down the God’s wood close to Storm’s End. Undoubtedly he is in league with powers we do not understand.”

“But he was killed by Stannis’ shadow!”, Arya repeated. Lady Catelyn just nodded and spurned her horse to walk faster.

“Do you still wish to free the Kingslayer?”, Lady Catelyn asked when they were finally forced to allow a rest for their horses.

“I have sworn an oath.”, Brienne said, stubborn.

“He made a whore of his own sister and cuckolded the king he has sworn to protect. And he had killed the king he had sworn to protect before that.”

Brienne remained steadfast. The thoughts troubled her, but she was determined to keep believing in the Jaime she had met. The Jaime who had confessed why he had killed King Aerys, and who clearly had tried to do the right thing.

“I still believe he has a good heart.”, she said. “If he is given the chance.”

“And you believe you can give him that chance.”, Lady Catelyn sighed, clearly judging Brienne to be a naive maiden in love. Which was not entirely wrong.

“I do not think that I can change him.”, Brienne said. “But I believe he has the capacity for change, and I wish to support him.”

Lady Catelyn stayed silent for a long while. Finally, she looked up at Brienne again.

“Cersei Lannister has my other daughter, Sansa, still.”, she said. “Bring me Sansa, safe and unharmed, and I will do everything in my power to let him go. My son will condemn me for it, and I do not wish to see the Kingslayer free, but if you bring me my other daughter safely, as you did Arya, I will support you.”

Brienne breathed in and out. “I will get Sansa safely from King’s Landing to you in Riverrun, and you swear you will be there and will release Jaime Lannister into my hands when I do so?”, she asked. Lady Catelyn nodded.

“I swear it.”, she said.

“Thank you, my lady.”, Brienne said. “Then I swear I will do my very best to free Sansa from King’s Landing and bring her to you, in Riverrun. I will leave immediately.”

“I’d like to come.”, Arya said. “But I am never going back into that city. If anyone can do it, though, you can, Brienne. And if anyone can wrangle the Kingslayer, it will be you, too. I’m sure it will be fine, mother.”

She nodded at Brienne. She still had not mentioned Duncan and Galladon, the two little children Brienne was leaving behind which she hoped desperately were still save in the capable hands of Dolly and Adelaine and behind the protection of Lord Tywin. Brienne wondered if Arya would ever tell her mother. She wondered if it would be enough for Lady Catelyn to forget her honour and break her promise even if Sansa was brought back to her safely.

But Brienne was going to do her best anyway. Even if Lady Catelyn had not made her promise, all she had heard had made abundantly clear that freeing Sansa and reuniting her with her family was the right thing. And if that did not give her Jaime back, she would keep fighting for him. He was the father of her children, after all, and she had sworn to see him free.

And so, when the party left the King’s road, Brienne stayed on, riding towards King’s Landing.

It took Brienne several weeks to reach King’s Landing. The closer she got to the city, the further she felt forced to stray from the King’s Road, where there was a lot of traffic, usually of armed men in the coats of house Lannister, the king’s, or one of their bannermen’s, in larger groups riding back and forth. It did not feel safe, even if she, should she be captured, might invoke Lord Tywin’s name and show the paper he had given her. That would only see her back to Harrenhal though, which was not her goal.

She dared stopping at an inn about a week from King’s Landing, for a warm meal and some information. She learned that King’s Landing was preparing for siege, and that the gates remained closed to any who didn’t have permission from the king.

Luckily, that wasn’t the way she planned to go. A few days later she strayed further and further from the King’s road, and crossed the Kingswood until she reached the coast at Blackwater Bay. Not far from where the Kingswood ended, there was a cave in the rocky cliff side that led to a tunnel directly into the Red Keep. Jaime had shown it to her a day after their fateful conversation in the bath. He had brought her through the tunnel to the coast. They had sparred in the coarse sand of the coast, shaded by the trees of the Kingswood, and then sat at the beach, talking.

Brienne spent several hours on the search of the cave entrance. After she was finally sure she had found the correct tunnel, she carefully packed her belongings, freed her trusted horse from saddle and harness and let it go free. She had no way to bring it into the Red Keep, and no way to tell how long she would be gone.

While the horse dawdled, and slowly began to stray further on the search for sustenance, she sat down in the sand by the beach and remembered her day with Jaime here. All her memories were tainted now, by the knowledge that while the deed he was most infamous for had in fact been honourable, he had since spent his days sworn to a king he was cuckolding, and sleeping with his own sister. She wondered again, sitting here in the sand, how he could have been with her, could have been so sweet to her, kiss her, spar with her, show her this beach, while his sister, his lover, was waiting for him, not far at all, in the city.

His sister, his mirror, his equal. How could she compare? How could Jaime ever consider her a comparison? What had he thought, when he had brought her here?

Despite her rationality trying to remind her that Jaime had never made her any promises, that in fact she had not expected anything from him, her heart kept reminding her that he had had her while Cersei had been there, that he had done these things with her when he could have spent time with Cersei. That maybe that gave their encounters more meaning, not less. She hadn’t just been a camp follower, interesting both in his bed and on the battlefield. She had been chosen by him even when he had a different choice; a choice he had made before many times.

Didn’t that mean he had actually chosen her?

In the end, it didn’t matter. Brienne had decided to go with him, she had decided to believe in him and his honour, she had sworn to free him, and she had born his children. Her honour compelled her to free Jaime, to see him safely back, as it compelled her to free Sansa. Whether or not anyone would still want anything from her after she freed Jaime, or she would be sent on her way with Duncan and Galladon, was not a relevant question. For now, her path was clear.

She stored everything she could not bring with her not far from the cave entrance and finally entered the tunnel at sundown.

Much to Brienne’s annoyance, it took her two full days to find the correct way through the tunnel that led her into the Red Keep, and another week until she managed to steal the coat and armour of one of the red-cloaked men guarding Queen Cersei. After that, though, she encountered surprisingly little problems. She made sure to pitch her voice as deep as possible and talk as little as possible, smeared some soot around her face and chin to look like she might have a stubble, and just joined groups of red-cloaked men whenever they went anywhere. No one questioned it. It seemed that a great many people where joining the guards or army with the battle looming and people starving in the city. Anyone employed by nobility at least got to eat. Brienne felt bad for eating the thin slop of the soldiers while the city was starving, but she did not miss a meal if she could avoid it, knowing that she needed all her strength to save Sansa – and she was still rebuilding strength after the birth, which seemed ages ago now.

The war preparation was unavoidable in the city. Both in the keep and out of it, soldiers and armed people were everywhere. The gates where strengthened and heavily guarded, and large catapults were built close to the mud gate. Brienne stayed out of it as much as possible and spent most of her time standing in front of rooms the queen occupied in small groups with other red-cloaked soldiers that didn’t talk to her.

It did not take her long to catch sight of Sansa, who spent a lot of her time in the company of the queen. She looked a lot like her mother, clearly a girl just entering womanhood. She did not seem miserable, but she didn’t seem happy either, mostly sporting a blank look or an insincere smile that looked sweet at first glance. Brienne saw her several times accompanying young king Joffrey, who she had to remind herself was most likely Jaime’s son, and these were the times Sansa seemed especially guarded, and prone to sudden twitches. Brienne stayed as close as she could whenever these situations arose, but was mostly limited by her role as a red cloak.

The battle arrived, and with it finally the opportunity to speak with Sansa. Stannis’ armada had been sighted on the horizon, the bells had rung, the smallfolk barricaded themselves in their homes. The soldiers had collected at their positions, the catapults readied, and the noble women had all gone to the sept to pray.

Queen Cersei had invited for a feast to keep up the mood in Maegor’s holdfast, and Brienne had managed to insert herself into the red cloaks guarding the entrance while one after the other the women trickled in from the sept.

Sansa was one of the last to arrive, and she was alone. Brienne, having to make a quick decision, made a choice in the blink of an eye. She stepped into the girls path and didn’t react to the startled look.

“King wants to see you.”, she said, then turned and went in the direction of the keep without looking back. While she went closer to the centre of the keep, people would wonder where she went, but not worry about her trying to flee or endangering Sansa. Luckily, the entrance to her secret tunnel was at an unguarded location close to the main keep. She led Sansa there, then waved her into the dark room that held the entrance. Sansa stared at her.

“Milady.”, Brienne said, not bothering to keep her voice deep. “You do not have any reason to trust me, but I am here for your mother. I know a way out of the keep, and right now everyone is distracted. Do you want to leave?”

Sansa stared at her, clearly torn. “I...I had planned…”, she started haltingly. Brienne grimaced. “We might not get another chance soon.”, she said. “If you follow me through there, there is a tunnel leading out of the city. With the battle raging, we will be able to escape in the confusion, though it might not be save, and I will find the way from here to Riverrun, where your mother waits for you. Will you come with me?”

Sansa narrowed her eyes.

“Who are you, anyway?”, she asked.

“I am Brienne of Tarth.”, Brienne said. “I found your sister, Arya, in Harrenhal a few months ago and reunited her with your mother. I promised your mother to bring you safely to her, in return for...something precious to me. Are you coming?”

People where passing through a court close to them and would spot them any second. Sansa stared at her for a bit longer, then apparently made a split second decision and nodded. Brienne exhaled, relieved, and led her into the darkness.

By the time they had found their way through the long tunnel, the battle had started. They had come out on the beach, a few hundred meters away from the river they had crossed under, in the shadow of some massive cliffs bordering the Kingswood. The battle seemed to be concentrating on the river that was between them and the city, with the main landed forces trying to break the Mud Gate.

Screams of pain and anger, clashing of swords, creaking of ships and sails, whinnying of frightened horses and occasional loud crashes came together in a cacophony of noise, and the river was burning green.

At the entrance of the Blackwater Rush, Brienne could see a great chain between the two towers, now raised out of the water and locking the ships into the river, where the wildfire was spreading, jumping from ship to ship.

On both sides of the river, people were fighting, though Brienne could not recognise clearly who was fighting Stannis’ forces on this side. She was not very familiar with large battles and battle strategies, aside from what Jaime had explained to her, and they had never participated in a battle of this scale together. Mostly, it seemed to be chaos. And chaos meant chances.

Brienne located the belongings she had hidden at the cave entrance, gave Sansa some water to drink, packed everything together in her red cloak and then made sure Sansa was out of sight of the battle. She made sure not to take anything colourful or conspicuous with her as she made her way over the distance to the edge of the battle field. Ignoring the wounded and dead on the ground and avoiding any fights, she soon found herself lucky, catching a riderless horse, wild with fright.

She had only aimed for one horse, but when there was a second crossing her path, slightly wounded but otherwise fine, she caught that one too and brought both to Sansa. Around the corner of the cliff face, she calmed down the horses as much as she could, did what she could for the wound in the flank of the smaller horse, then distributed her belongings on the horses, helped Sansa on one and took the other.

The riskiest part was the path from the protecting cliffs to the Kingswood, with the battle raging so far and the lines reaching quite far into the back. However, most people where concentrating on Kings Landing in their north and didn’t have time to look for two riders not attacking anyone.

They managed to reach the Kingswood safely and then spent the rest of the day and well into the night making their way through it until Brienne found them far enough away from the battle to rest.

Only then did she answer Sansa’s question and assured her once again that they were on their way to Riverrun.

Travelling with Sansa Stark was very different from travelling with Arya, but not so much because of the companion. The horses where unfamiliar, clearly distrustful after the ordeal of the battle, and couldn’t carry to much weight in the case of Sansa’s wounded mare. Additionally, Brienne had barely managed to prepare any supplies for the road.

Like Arya, Sansa was disbelieving and asked a lot of questions once she learned that Brienne wished to free Jaime. Brienne did not mention Duncan and Galladon, but tried to answer any question truthfully. Luckily, Sansa did not share Arya’s disgust for any action taking out of love for a man. In fact, Sansa found Brienne’s shameful affaire with Jaime incredibly romantic and wanted to know every single detail.

“Did he bring you flowers?”, sie asked. “Did he sing you songs? Did he ask for a lock of your hair to remember you by if you are separated?”

She looked ready to swoon at the last question. It was in the late hours of the day, they had stopped for the benefit of their tired horses and were themselves hungry and cold. They had cloaks and blankets for two, but no change of clothes for Sansa and barely any food, so Brienne often left Sansa at the campsite to forage and hunt for what little she could acquire.

“He did bring me flowers once.”, Brienne admitted. It had only been one flower, probably to remain inconspicuous, and it had confused her greatly, as she could never imagine someone would give someone like her something as delicate and pretty as a flower. Jaime had not seen any issue, had commented on the colour of her eyes and insisted that she was a lady, and deserved flowers. It still warmed Brienne’s heart to think of it.

“We mostly talked. And sparred.”, Brienne continued. “He was the first man who didn’t think women shouldn’t be able to fight. He even found my fighting skills impressive. He taught me seriously. He is really quite good, it is such an honour to be taught by a kingsguard! I improved a lot thanks to him.”

“You were already quite good, I saw you win that melee.”, Sansa said dismissively, obviously not finding sparring as romantic as it had been for Brienne. “What did you talk about?”

“Old stories.”, Brienne said. “Stories about knights. Arthur Dayne, Duncan the Tall, Galladon of Morne. We both always dreamed of becoming like them.”

“He dreamed of becoming an honourable knight?”, Sansa scoffed. “The Kingslayer?”

“Life forced him to make an impossible choice, and I think he chose right.”, Brienne defended. “He has done a lot of wrong since, but I don’t believe it is ever to late to change. He is a good man at heart. Or could be.”

Sansa evidently doubted Jaime’s capacity for honour, especially as her hatred for Queen Cersei was apparently just paralleled by her hatred for King Joffrey who had treated her abhorrently. Learning that Joffrey was the result of incest between these two had her disgusted, but at the same time she acknowledged that Jaime was very beautiful. She conceded that Brienne, who surely was an unparalleled and true hero, might be able to change him to a better man. Brienne did not much believe in people being changed by others, even by love, but kept those thoughts to herself.

It started raining when they reached the borders of the Riverlands, a persistent thin sheet of constant dripping from the skies, making their days extremely uncomfortable and their nights almost unbearable. Brienne barely managed to get enough food for both of them, and not every day could they eat at all.

It was to both of their immense relief when they finally saw Riverrun in the distance after more than two months of travel.

The guard that stopped them was forthcoming in informing them that King Robb Stark was not in Riverrun anymore, but had taken his party north to the twins for a wedding. Brienne vaguely remembered a marriage alliance between Robb Stark and one of Walder Frey’s daughters planned, and Sansa knew that the north had been taken by the Ironborn, so that made sense.

Lady Catelyn, however, had stayed back in Riverrun, and was soon informed of the arrival of the Lady Brienne of Tarth, accompanied by her maidservant. Not much later they were finally allowed into the dry castle and led into a small tower room containing Catelyn and Arya Stark.

The servant leading them here had barely left the room when Sansa fell into her mothers arms. Brienne, feeling like an intruder again and wanting to give them time, found herself drawn to the warm fire in the corner and started warming her hands, trying to ignore the conversation behind her. She felt the steam rise from her wet cloak after a short while.

Only when Lady Catelyn said her name did she turn over. The three of them were standing close together, each of Lady Catelyn’s arms around one daughter. All of them had tears on their faces and were smiling.

“Lady Brienne. I thank you for your service, for bringing my daughters back to me.”, Lady Catelyn said.

“Don’t thank me.”, Brienne said. “It was a purely selfish act. You made me a promise in return that I expect you to fulfill.”

Lady Catelyn grimaced.

“Ah, yes. The Kingslayer.”, she said. Brienne waited, saying nothing.

“You are aware that he slew his king he had sworn to protect? That he spent his time since raping his sister, cuckolding another king he was sworn to protect? That his inbred bastard son has killed my husband, that his sister and lover kept my daughter captured in her castle?”

“I have sworn an oath.”, Brienne said.

“That you have.”, Lady Catelyn said. “Yet not all oaths are right to keep. Sometimes, doing the right thing means breaking an oath.”

Brienne thought of Jaime killing king Aerys and nodded.

“That is very true, my lady.”, she confirmed. “Yet I intend to keep my oath. Will you honour yours, made in good faith?”

Lady Catelyn sighed.

“Why?”, she asked. “Why would you seek for such a man to be free? You know what is happening, Brienne. Surely you cannot hope for the Lannisters to win.”

“I do not.”, Brienne said. “Yet I have sworn an oath.”

“For him?”, Lady Catelyn asked. Brienne nodded. She hesitated, then decided to play one more card.

“This is not all, my lady.”, she said. “I am a mother.”

It felt uncomfortable to say. Brienne did not feel like a mother. She was merely an unknighted soldier who had given birth. She worried for her sons, but she did not feel any motherly instincts and was glad that someone else made sure they lived while they were so fragile and young.

“I have two young sons, not even a year old.”, she continued. “They are in the hands of Lord Tywin Lannister. If I bring him his son, he will let them go with me.”

“I met her sons.”, Arya said, surprisingly, but confirming that she had not yet told her mother about Duncan and Galladon, for some reason. “They are very young. Lord Tywin won’t let them go unless he has Ser Jaime.”

Lady Catelyn considered the information, then sighed again.

“Very well. Robb has gone north, for the wedding of my brother to Walder Frey’s daughter, and to reclaim the north, and I hope to join him soon, with my daughters and Robb’s queen. The castle is less guarded in the mean time, so I will be able to leave the Kingslayer in your hands. I will release him this evening, after the sun goes down, so that you might have a few hours lead on when the steward discovers my treason. Afterwards, things are out of my hands. If the castle’s men recapture you, that is not my responsibility. My daughters have nothing to do with this, they have not heard of our conversation.”

Sansa immediately nodded, though Arya looked mutinous.

Brienne agreed. “That is a fair deal, my lady.”

Catelyn nodded resolutely.

“Then I will show you to a room so you may eat and rest until the evening, and prepare everything in the mean time.”

Brienne was shown to a small room with a warm fire roaring in the corner. With immense relief she took off her wet clothes and put on the dry ones from her pack. She was just arranging her wet clothes in front of the fire when a knock sounded on the door. It was Arya, bringing a simple, but hearty meal.

“You actually managed to get my sister.”, she said, and sat on the bed in the corner. When Brienne did not say anything, she continued. “And now you’re exchanging us for your lover.”

Brienne wasn’t sure what to say to that. Did Arya expect an apology? She had always made very clear, to Arya, Sansa and Lady Catelyn, what she wanted in return.

“The father of your children.”, Arya added meaningful.

“You did not tell your mother.”, Brienne said uncomfortably.

“I did not. I’m not sure she would understand. She’d trust you even less. But you are a good person, despite your very questionable taste in men, and you deserve a chance with him, if you want it.”

She jumped up from the bed and came closer.

“I enjoyed our time together. Thank you, Lady Brienne, for taking me in, training with me, and bringing me to my mother. I will keep you in my memories fondly, and hope we meet again.”

“I hope so, too.”, Brienne said awkwardly.

Arya nodded, then strode from the room.

Brienne ate the meal she had been brought, and then decided to try to get some sleep. Just minutes later she was sleeping deeply.

She was awoken in the late afternoon by another knock on the door. This time it was Sansa, changed from her wet clothes into the clean and dry clothes of a servant, and with a scarf around her red hair.

“We decided it would be better to continue the ruse.”, she said at Brienne’s look. “At least until we’re with Robb again. Not just because of the Lannister’s, but so we can keep the information secret. If Walder Frey learns that we’re back with our family, he’ll want one of us to marry one of his sons, and I don’t think I can stomach that at the moment. Arya certainly can’t.”

“But isn’t your brother already marrying one of his daughters?”, Brienne asked confused.

Sansa grimaced. “Apparently he instead married some girl from the Westerlands and now they are trying to pacify Lord Walder by marrying my uncle Edmure to one of his daughters. Suggesting me as a wife to one of his sons would probably be the better move but…” She shuddered. Brienne nodded. Hadn’t Catelyn mentioned Robb’s queen being with them in Riverrun? She had not paid any attention to that detail.

“I am glad you are safe with your family.”, she said.

Sansa nodded.

“I am too.”, she said. “And I know you didn’t do it just for us, but I am very thankful nonetheless. And I think it is very romantic. He is a very handsome man, Ser Jaime.”

Brienne found herself reddening, and said nothing.

Sansa shuffled a bit, then drew her shoulders back.

“I want to thank you, Lady Brienne.”, she said. “Even if you have a motive, you brought me and my sister safely back from hell to our mother, and did everything in your power to keep us safe on the way. You are a good person. Thank you.”

“I hope we meet again one day.”, Brienne said. Sansa nodded.

“I hope so, too. Farewell, Lady Brienne.”

“Farewell, Lady Sansa.”, Brienne said and watched Sansa slip out of the room, replaced soon by an unknown serving maid bringing dinner.

Brienne had just finished her dinner and tested the remaining dampness of her clothes, noticing with relief that it had finally stopped raining outside, when Lady Catelyn came back. Her face was serious, but decisive.

“It is time.”, she said.

Brienne stood and nodded, but when she went to quickly pack her belongings, Lady Catelyn stopped her.

“I have demands.”, she said.

Brienne waited. She would insist on the keeping of Lady Catelyn’s oath to her, but there was no reason not to hear her out first.

“I want you and Ser Jaime both to swear that you will not take up weapons against house Stark or house Tully.”

“I am willing to swear that, my lady, but I cannot speak for Ser Jaime.”, Brienne said doubtful.

“He will if he has a sword at his neck.”

“What worth would an oath sworn under such circumstances have?”

“Not much more worth than any oath sworn by an oathbreaker, but mayhap it will give him pause at least.”, Lady Catelyn said. Brienne bristled at that, remembering why Jaime had broken his oath in the first place, but decided against saying anything.

“You will leave by boat as soon as it is dark. You will be accompanied by Ser Cleos Frey, Ser Jaime’s cousin, who is still in our custody as well. He has been our emissary and has dealt with Lord Tyrion, who swore that he would see Sansa and Arya exchanged for Ser Jaime. Ser Cleos is to remind Lord Tyrion of his promise.”

“But the exchange already happened.”, Brienne asked, confused. “Lady Sansa and Lady Arya are already here; what use is Lord Tyrion’s promise?”

The Lady didn’t sneer, but it was a near thing.

“I do not care for his promise. What I care about is making sure my daughters whereabouts are unknown a little longer, and to confuse our enemies. Besides, you might use the lack of hostages on their sides to ask for your children. Neither Ser Cleos nor Ser Jaime will be informed that Sansa and Arya are with me. They will be under the impression that this is the foolish attempt of an emotional mother to free her sons hostage against his will to get her daughters back.”

“Your son’s bannermen won’t love you for that.”, Brienne said cautiously.

“They wouldn’t love me for it even if they knew that I already got my daughters back. I cannot change that. I will not reveal information to the Lannisters that I do not have any advantage revealing. Do you agree, Lady Brienne?”

Brienne considered.

“I agree.”

She swore the oath immediately, then finished packing her belongings while Lady Catelyn saw to the last preparations for the escape. When it began to darken outside, she followed Lady Catelyn into the dungeon.

Brienne waited just out of sight while Lady Catelyn approached Jaime. Hearing his voice again, the familiar drawl, the arrogance swinging in every word, did strange things with her heart. It kept twinging and twisting, compelling her to come forward to see him.

Yet she listened, as Lady Catelyn questioned him. He sounded honest and uncaring, admitting to fathering his twin’s children - a confession that held no surprise to Brienne and still left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth – and to trying to murder Bran Stark – something that hurt Brienne more than his incestuous relationship – but denied the second murder attempt on Bran.

When Catelyn called her in, he sounded slightly raw, and unsteady, as he had been drinking wine provided by Lady Catelyn throughout.

Brienne had tried to prepare for seeing him again, but it still hit her like a slap in the face.

He looked horrible – unkempt and dirty, with a scraggly beard and much too long, filthy hair, thin and tired – but at the same time, his eyes were still green; some of the gold was still in his hair under the thick mats, and his pose still suggested the ease by which he seemed to live in his body. It was still him. Jaime Lannister, half a corpse, half a god.

And seeing him, even more than hearing him, brought up the longing in her heart, the way she had missed him, his confidence, his self-assuredness, the easy banter and constant goading, his soft smile and fast tongue, the way he listened to her and looked at her like she was worth looking at.

Oh, she missed him.

The minutes it took for her to get her bearing back had passed in silence, while he stared at her, bloodshot eyes wide, mouth open.

“Brienne?”, he finally asked, incredulous.

“I see you remember her.”, Lady Catelyn said gracefully. “Lady Brienne will escort you safely to King’s Landing to exchange you for my daughters. Brienne, your sword.”

Jaime’s eyes did not leave her face, not while he swore his oath to Lady Catelyn, not when he realised that he was actually leaving, not until she turned away to lead the way up the staircase.

He stumbled twice, his muscles having degraded from his time imprisoned, or maybe it was the alcohol in his blood, and Brienne had to steady him, forcing her hands to stop shaking as she felt him – alive, and warm, and real – under her hands.

Finally they met Ser Cleos in the shadow of night at the boat, and heard him swear his oath, too.

And then Ser Jaime was in the boat, in shackles, still staring at her, and she and Ser Cleos were rowing out onto the river.

And Jaime was finally safely out of enemy hands and in hers.