"You did what?" It sounded like Jamie was trying to shout at her while still keeping his voice down, so the question emerged as an urgent, hissing whisper.

She felt like a child being chastised. "I fought the Hound," Brienne repeated, a mutinous mutter, looking down at the tabletop. "I killed him. He very nearly killed me. Now will you please let the maester see to me, I think I've got-"

"Fuck your maester, I need to understand this." He stepped away from her, towards the window, and she fought the urge to turn and look at him.

"What's there to understand?" she said, still to the table. "I found Arya. She'd taken up with the Hound. She wouldn't come with me, he drew the minute I said your name, and then I-"

"You said my name?"

As if it was the stupidest, most ludicrous thing she could have done. She'd heard more than enough of that tone through the years – You want to be a SWORDSMAN?! – and she had completely lost her patience with it. "Yes, Jamie, I said your fucking name," she snapped, clanking around in her seat to look at him. "What, should I have treated it like a dirty secret?"

He huffed and knocked his golden hand against the window frame. "If you had, the girl would probably be sitting here with us right now. But we'll never know, will we, because you had to go and-"

"She wouldn't." Brienne cut him off sharply. "She'd already refused to come. They said he, that savage, was watching over her. I wanted to take her away from him. We were both itching for an excuse," she admitted. "Your name just happened to be it."

Jamie sighed. Was silent a while. "So... you fought the Hound," he said at last. "And won." Another silence, and then, grudging: "Well, go on: tell me how you did it."

It wouldn't be fair to take credit where none was due. "He was injured already," she said. "Before we started. I smelled it on him, blood and rot, when we got close."

Jamie turned from the window, frowning. "How bloody close did you have to get, to...?"

She shrugged. "Quite close. I bit off his ear."

"Dear gods."

"It was a nasty fight." She drew herself up. "Which is why I now need the maester. Will you please let him come in?"

"In a minute. I want to hear this." Jamie sat down opposite her and gestured for her to go on. "Then what?"

"Why are you so fascinated with how I did it?"

"Because. For years Cersei and I talked about whether it should be me who guards Joff, or Clegane. Cersei wanted me, so that I'd be-..." he stopped short, skipped over, "-but I wanted him. Because he'd be better at it, because he does things like bite ears. Though I was sure that a fair fight between us I'd win."

Now she understood. It was Jamie's vanity, his sense of competition, that was driving his curiosity. "He fights well," she said neutrally.

"Fought."

She didn't like that, so: "Better than you."

"Better than I fight now, maybe." He twitched his golden hand.

"Better than you ever fought. I should know; I've fought both of you." She thought of him facing off with her, arrogant and nasty even in his chains. The Hound, at least, had never insulted her. Not once she took her first swing at him, anyway. "It doesn't matter now though – he's dead and you're left-handed; if you got into it with me you'd be dead too."

His mouth fell open and he stared in silence, as if he couldn't believe her cruelty. She could hardly believe it herself.

Then he shrugged. "Of course," he said, light and bitter. "Everyone else in King's Landing has found a chance to twist the knife already. It's only fair that you should have a go too, when-"

"Jamie." She reached across the table and put her hand on him – up on the forearm. She stared into his eyes. "I'm sorry."

He pulled away. "I'll get the maester for you."

She felt awful. Perhaps if he snarled at her it would even the score, so she called after him to pause him by the door. "Jamie. Do you think it's my fault? Losing Arya?" Surely he would have some choice words about that, at least.

But he only cocked his head thoughtfully. "Do you think she was safe with him?"

Brienne had to laugh. "With the Hound? That beast? Have you heard, the kinds of things he-"

"No no." Jamie held up a hand. "She was safe from him, I'd bet my life on that. Sandor Clegane is a dog who just wants to live and die in a good master's service – and he doesn't lie. If he said he was watching over her, then he was."

Brienne blinked. Now that she'd had it, a dressing-down turned out not to help at all. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Oh, you wanted to feel better?" Jamie's smile was insincere, mocking even, but it didn't feel mean – it almost seemed he wanted her to be in on the joke.

She had never been very good at joking, though, so she just waited. Sure enough, after a moment Jamie sighed and grew serious. "Brienne, the man attracts trouble like a carcass does flies. Case in point: look what happened with you." Now she understood: safe with him. "There's no laying low where a Clegane is involved," Jamie went on. "If the girl wants to try living in peace, she's well rid of the Hound."

"And... if she doesn't want to try living in peace?"

"Then my sister will have her cut into small pieces," Jamie said shortly, "However many men it takes. You did her a service, Brienne. With any luck, she's disappeared now and nobody will ever know she lives."

You did her a service. She felt herself relaxing.

"I'll get you the maester now, all right?"

She nodded. "Thank you, ser." Surely he would know what she meant.

The End.

I think this is the end for this one. I like the Jamie/Brienne pairing, but Brienne is getting so dumb on the show I just can't deal with her anymore. Now she's chopping up Petyr's knights... is her mission to destroy all the protection the Stark girls have managed to amass around themselves?

Let me know what you think!