Author's Note: In anticipation of episode ten of season six of Game of Thrones, this is a continuation of Jaime and Brienne's story from episode eight. The story picks up from HBO's Game of Thrones just after Jaime Lannister is able to take Riverrun in a nearly bloodless siege, and continues into the next few days as he and Bronn head to the Twins for a celebration feast with Walder Frey.
I've drawn from both show and book canon for this story, added some context to what has gone before, and tried to avoid any spoilers other than what was shown in the trailer for episode ten. This is just my version of how the reunion of Jaime and Brienne in episode eight could influence the action in episode ten. I got the misguided idea to begin writing this on the Friday night ahead of the show (posted it on the Archive site, but forgot to upload it here), so it was written very, very quickly. Please forgive any typos.
It was done. Jaime had managed to end the siege without bloodshed. Once Edmure ordered all arms laid down and the drawbridge lowered, the Lannister and Frey forces had marched in to claim the castle and round up its inhabitants.
Jaime then gave two private commands to be carried out: one to Captain Addam Marbrand, to take a force and find the Blackfish, who was probably already in irons somewhere at Lord Edmure's command; the other order was given to Bronn. His job would be to find Brienne and escort her to a chamber safe within the castle, away from the rank and file of Riverrun's other residents.
While he regretted that she'd been unable to sway the Blackfish, Jaime wasn't at all surprised. The man hadn't been convinced by threats to his nephew's life, making it even more unlikely that he would surrender just to save Sansa's and secure Winterfell. Not that the meager Tully forces would be able to buy that victory anyway.
After he'd given Brienne safe passage into Riverrun earlier that afternoon, Jaime tasked Bronn with finding her and Podrick's mounts and tying them out well beyond the camp. Once he'd had a chance to speak to her again and give her a hand-picked escort of Tully soldiers, she could travel safely back to Lady Sansa's side. No doubt Brienne would want to leave in all haste, but he welcomed an opportunity to thank her for giving him the answer to ending the siege, though it had been accomplished through Edmure's loyalty to family rather than the Blackfish's.
That done, Jaime went up to the ramparts above the castle's walls to await reports from Marbrand and Bronn. He breathed deeply of the clean air, the first he'd had since arriving in the squalor of the Frey camp. He was no stranger to sieges, but the stink of thousands of men living in their own filth, particularly after the Freys shortsightedly built their latrines so close to camp, wasn't something he found pleasant. He was bone-tired and had seen enough of Riverrun to last several lifetimes; the Tully dungeons in particular.
Jaime heard boots on the stairs and then along the rough stones of the walkway, ending as a solider stopped a respectful distance away. "We found the Blackfish, my lord."
"Good. Bring him to me," he said, barely turning his head.
"He died, fighting, my lord."
Jaime nodded briefly, and the soldier retreated. It was a pity they'd not captured him alive. He'd looked forward to speaking with him, gloating really, before sending him to the Freys. In his prime the Blackfish had been an impressive fighter, and Jaime admired him. Apparently age and arrogance had taken their toll on his once-legendary abilities.
Now all he awaited was the arrival of Bronn to tell him that Brienne was safe.
Jaime had a sudden, chilling premonition that with the Blackfish choosing battle over surrender, perhaps Brienne had as well. That would be a sorry end to the Wench. Jaime sucked in a breath at the thought of never seeing her again, and strode over to the end of the walkway, looking out over the field in front of the castle littered with Frey tents.
His gaze wandered to the river, flowing in a dark silver ribbon away from the castle. He and Brienne left by that very route long ago, he as her prisoner, chained, filthy, and nearly passed out drunk. In the dark he could imagine the sight they'd have made, had anyone been there to see it.
He blinked as a darker spot on the water drew his eyes. Was there someone out on there now? It must be Brienne; she, too, would have remembered their previous escape. Jaime looked quickly around to make sure no one else was watching before looking back.
It was her, no question. The bulk of her, that ridiculously blond hair in the moonlight, and the other figure would be young Podrick, pulling at the oars as fast as he could. Relief poured through Jaime, along with something else; a bittersweet realization that he'd lost his chance to speak with her again, perhaps for all time.
As though she sensed someone watching, Brienne turned and looked up, finding the figure on the ramparts immediately. She might not know it was him. Jaime raised his golden hand, over-large and ridiculous, catching the torchlight on its sculpted fingers as he waved, barely to the left and then the right, slowly, once, twice, and no more.
In her little boat Brienne raised her gloved right hand, almost in salute. Though he couldn't see her expression, Jaime wondered if she smiled or if she, too, felt some regret at parting again so soon. The pang in his chest seemed to grow the smaller the boat became, until it floated beyond the river's curve and vanished from sight.
Jaime stood at his post for several moments, the ache in his chest troubling him. He'd accomplished so much today, and saved many lives, but it felt hollow somehow. He could go home soon, right after the obligatory feast with Walder Frey and his misbegotten brood. Back to King's Landing, where he'd already moved his belongings from the White Sword Tower. Back to Cersei, who'd been all too anxious to see him go. She didn't need him anymore, with Robert Strong there to protect her.
Lost in his ruminations he didn't hear the new set of footsteps on the walk, and when Bronn called his name he barely recalled why his second in command had even come to him.
"The lady's gone," the older man said bluntly, "and Pod as well."
"I know," Jaime said, still gazing out at the river.
"Fuck. Don't tell me they went out fighting," Bronn said, worry in his tone, "I checked the bodies stacked in the yard. Didn't see her or Pod. Made 'em take the Blackfish out and set him aside, though…well, him and his head." Bronn came closer, looked Jaime up and down and let out a low whistle. "Fuck me, they are dead, aren't they?"
"No. Why would you think that?"
"Well, you look like your best friend just died, and the lady, she's –"
"The lady is safe. They left by boat." Jaime leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. "I should have thought of it. It makes sense she'd go that way. She can't go very far before she'll need to get back onto dry land and take the Kingsroad north."
Bronn stared out at the river and scratched his chin. "Aye. They'll have a hard time of it, without their horses. She still had that mare you gave her. Fine, animal, that. The lad didn't have a bad mount either, a bit better bred than the gelding he went out on."
"Brienne is resourceful; she'll manage to get them new mounts if there are any to be had."
"You know, we could try to catch up to 'em with the horses. They'll be slow on foot."
Jaime frowned, discarding the idea at once. "We're due at the Twins two days from now. The raven has already been sent with the news that we've taken Riverrun."
"Gods, not the fucking Freys," Bronn groaned. "Fought for them some years back. The whole lot of 'em are dumber than dirt."
"I've met a few dirt clods I'd rather dine with," Jaime admitted. "All the same, I need to be there to make sure old Walder gives us Edmure's bride and son and doesn't overstep his bounds. He's been hinting around about Harrenhal for the younger of his idiot sons."
"What, Riverrun isn't enough for the both of them?"
"The Frey's will take anything they can get their hands on, but I was saving Harrenhal for you."
"Fuck that. You promised me a –"
Jaime smirked. "I know, a castle and a high-born lady for a bride. You'll get your wife, Bronn. Are you really in such a hurry to get married?"
"Well now, I'm in a hurry to get it settled. Lannisters may always pay their debts, but you fuckers sure take your time about it." Bronn walked over to look out at the river. "I don't think anyone would miss you if we took a couple days to go find your girl."
"She's not my –"
"Sure she's not." Bronn scoffed. "Bet she'd be mighty grateful if you showed up with that mare o' hers. You might even get a kiss out of it."
"Lady Brienne would never –"
"Never? Tell me another one. The way you two look at each other I know you must have had at least a kiss or two. Surely after you jumped in a bear pit for her…?"
"It's not like that," Jaime said. He tried to imagine the wench kissing him after he'd gotten her out of that pit, finding the image came to him with surprising ease. A chaste kiss, no more, but the thought of it made his heart race. He really needed to get back to King's Landing, where it was easier not to think of her. "We'll bring the horses with us for now. If things go well at the Twins maybe I'll send you after them."
"Think she'd kiss me in gratitude?"
"What?"
"Think she'd kiss me? Better yet, think she'd fuck me? I'd welcome that as a proper 'thank you.'"
"Bronn, that's a highborn lady you're talking about," Jaime said irritably.
"And I'm a knight, as you keep reminding me."
"Then act like one. I need you to come to the Twins with me. I promised Lord Edmure his wife and child, and Frey isn't like to let her go easily. I need you out there rubbing cowters with Walder's house guard while I negotiate with the old goat. You're my ears."
"Thought I was your bloody right hand. Make up your mind, man."
"I'll only need my right hand for drinking wine this time. Don't tell me you want to be my cup bearer now? Bit of a step down." Jaime took a last look at the river, allowing himself a private smile as he recalled the first hours he'd spent with Brienne. How they'd hated each other! "Send someone to find me a decent room in the castle. I'm sick of sleeping out of doors. We leave at dawn."
In the morning Jaime had Edmure's effects, untouched during his time as a captive at the Twins, packed up for his move to Casterly Rock. He'd live a comfortable if carefully guarded life there. Once his wife and child joined him he might, in time, forget to mourn the loss of his ancestral home. Unlikely, Jaime knew, but after a couple of years in a dungeon Lord Edmure was being given a future better than he'd any right to expect.
They parted ways just after daybreak, Edmure with a score of Lannister guards headed southeast to Casterly, Jaime with a hundred mounted knights riding north to the Twins. The temperature had dropped overnight and the sun had risen pale and weak, quickly losing itself behind grey clouds.
They rode hard for the Frey stronghold, Jaime keenly aware that he was moving further away from Kings Landing. Cersei's trial might happen at any time, and though she'd assured him that her monstrous resurrected knight would have no trouble winning in a trial by combat, still it rankled to be so far away.
Sleep had been elusive the night before, despite comfortable quarters. Dreams had troubled him, filled as they were with worry and confusion. Despite his successful conclusion of the siege, Jaime felt adrift. No longer Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, disregarded by his lover, and of no particular use to his son and King, he felt displaced.
He'd lived in the White Sword Tower since he was a teenager, and in the lord commander's quarters for the last couple of years. He'd made no provisions for new chambers before leaving for Riverrun.
In his dreams Jaime wandered, moving north rather than south, just as he was now. He'd been looking for Brienne, the idea no doubt planted in his mind by Bronn. The wench frequented his dreams much of the time as it was; what they'd been through together after their capture by Locke would always be a part of them, their shared experience so traumatic and life-changing that there would forever be a bond between them.
Even when the dreams became erotic he accepted it as the natural result of how close they'd once been. Seeing her again so unexpectedly had no doubt brought up the old memories and feelings that disturbed his sleep. Bears and horses and a kiss offered for honorable service and…more. Jaime willed the dreams of the night before to fade as the day wore on, and eventually they did.
Bronn was riding beside him, his jovial and ribald conversation eventually breaking through Jaime's gloom. The beautiful mare he'd given Brienne so long ago in King's Landing trotted behind them on a lead. She'd picked up a couple of battle scars, but bore herself proudly, her long legs flashing out with spirit and style. Curiously pleased that Brienne still had the beast, Jaime wondered what she'd named her. Podrick's horse followed along on its own lead, a solid and calm gelding, well-suited to the squire's indifferent riding skills.
The weather held, and they arrived at the Twins mid-morning, two days later. A look-out had been posted, and when they rode in all was in readiness for them at the Frey stronghold. The Lannister soldiers were shown to a large field where they could pitch their tents, and Jaime and his captains were given good rooms in one of the towers.
A hot bath was drawn and tended by a giggling surplus of young women. By their similar appearance Jaime suspected that they were sisters, by their plainness he guessed they were some of Walder's own daughters. Jaime found their familiarity off-putting as they attempted to help him remove his armor and then his clothing. They spoke little, mostly tittering to each other behind their hands as he waited in his smallclothes for the bath to be filled. When one of them approached to help him out of his last article of clothing he lost patience and ordered them from the room.
Jaime was used to highborn maids being thrown in his path, but this was the first time he'd been forced to deal with them freely ogling him. He suspected an ulterior motive in their being sent to assist him in his bath, and he had no intention of being accused of compromising any of them. Their old bastard of a father would love an excuse to fob one of them off on him. Word that he was no longer of the Kingsguard and therefore eligible to marry must have traveled quickly.
Sinking into the steaming water in the welcome silence, Jaime relaxed with his arms along the sides of the tub. His golden hand lay on a table by the bed and his stump felt raw and irritated from the chafing of long days jouncing along on horseback.
He recalled how Brienne's eyes strayed to the hand when she'd spoken with him in his tent days earlier. The last time she'd seen him his stump had still been healing, though he'd continued to wear the uncomfortable prosthetic. Cersei had been so repulsed by his stump that he'd been careful never to leave it bare when she might see it, but Brienne always asked him about it when they saw each other, and on one occasion had insisted on adjusting it to ease his pain.
Brienne had never shied away from his maimed arm, even when it was new and raw, the cauterized skin obscenely red and shiny. She'd dressed it for him often in those dark days, with a gentleness and concern he hardly deserved. Even when it had become infected and smelly Brienne never balked.
Jaime sighed and slid further down in the tub, wetting his hair. It seemed like he could never think of his sister waiting for him back in King's Landing these days without thoughts of the big wench crowding in as well. He should have sent someone after her with the horses. Addam, perhaps. Maybe he should do that, before he rode south again.
He stayed in the tub until the water had cooled, barking out orders to leave him be when one of the daughters knocked on his doors with an offer to help him dress. He'd take his time getting ready for the night ahead. As appalling as Walder's violation of guest right had been in what had come to be called the Red Wedding, he at least knew enough not to start a feast without the guest of honor present.
When Jaime finally roused himself to get out, donning his finest leathers and strapping on his sword, he found Bronn waiting on a bench outside his door, with a Frey daughter on his lap and another twirling her fingers through his receding hair. Bronn grinned up at him, gave the standing daughter a swat on the rump and put his hands on the waist of the seated one to shift her off of his lap. "Friendly girls, these."
"Unless you want one of them for your wife, I'd be a bit more careful about where you touch them. Lord Walder is always looking for fresh good-sons." Jaime took off down the hall and Bronn followed, chuckling.
"That so? Then I expect he'd have his eye on you for sure. Lord of Casterly Rock, head of one of the strongest houses in Westeros. You might even give him some grandchildren he could be proud of."
"It wouldn't be the first time a Lannister married a Frey. My aunt Genna has a Frey husband, poor woman." Jaime jogged down the stairs. "But he couldn't be so blind he'd expect one of his daughters to become Lady of Casterly Rock. They may be wealthy, but they're still a minor house and will do our bidding without needing the ties of matrimony."
"Uh huh. So you say. I heard more than a few of 'em talking in the hall earlier after helping you to bathe. Seems you impressed them, to say the least. There was some argument over which of them you like the best."
"None of them. I sent them away." Jaime led the way to the feast hall and stopped at the entryway to surrender his sword to the guard there, watching to see where it was stowed for later reference. Bronn gave the man his sword as well and they walked into the great hall.
"So this is where it happened," Bronn whistled. "Grim place to die, this. That Lady Catelyn, she was a wildcat for sure. Should have seen her when she had your brother as prisoner. All fire, that one."
Jaime felt a little ill. Though he'd heard of what the Freys had done to the Starks, and seen what Lady Catelyn's death had done to Brienne, the story had always been a bit abstract to him. As many bloodied battlefields as he'd been on, as many people as he'd killed with his own sword, Jaime had never experienced the cold-blooded killing of unarmed guests. The concept of such a thing was deeply offensive even to his sullied concept of honor.
When he'd pushed Bran from that tower at Winterfell, he'd done it to protect his own loved ones. It had been a heinous act, yes, but even now he could almost justify it. But this – this hall presently full of people ready to celebrate the taking of Riverrun, ironically achieved without bloodshed – was where dozens of unarmed guests, including Robb Stark's pregnant wife, were murdered.
For Jaime, who killed the Mad King to prevent the slaughter of countless defenseless people, and in so doing had changed the course of his own life, the idea that his own father had planned and arranged for the Red Wedding was so twisted that he felt the bile rise in his throat. His Aunt Genna had seen to the heart of it; he was not Tywin's true son. He might have shit for honor, but he had far more than his late father.
Walder Frey gave him a leering smile from the head table. His new young wife sat at his side, a girl barely past her first flowering, bored and drowsy with a cup of wine in front of her. Jaime nodded his head curtly and chose a table lower down, preferring to sit with his soldiers and Bronn rather than be seen on the same level as the old man.
Lord Frey called for food and drink to be served, and the musicians began to play. As a plate of food was set in front of Jaime, Bronn leaned over and said over the din, "Is that the Rains of Castamere they're playing?"
Jaime listened with growing horror as he, too, recognized the song that had reportedly been performed during the massacre. He looked up at Frey sharply, and the old man raised his goblet of wine and smiled.
"Fuck me, he thinks it's a compliment." Bronn said.
Jaime didn't return the toast, but glared at Lord Frey. Something was afoot and he was certain whatever Ser Walder had planned wasn't going to be to his liking. His suspense was short-lived as Walder beckoned yet another daughter forward to pull his chair back so that he might stand.
He waved his hand at the musicians in the balcony to cease playing. "My lords and ladies, we gather here on this auspicious day to celebrate the delivery of Riverrun to her rightful keepers. We are graced by the presence of the Lord of Casterly Rock, Ser Jaime of House Lannister." A light smattering of applause followed Frey's words. When it had died down he continued, "The alliance between House Frey and House Lannister remains strong, and brings prosperity to us all. It is in my heart that the future of our two families will be great indeed." Walder held his arms wide, his gnarled hands gesturing inward as though to gather the applause.
"Here it comes," Bronn whispered.
"And so I propose a way to mark and strengthen our alliance, after the untimely death of the most honorable Lord Tywin Lannister, with the new lord of Casterly Rock." Here Walder paused, turning to the Frey daughter behind his high-backed chair and holding out his hand. The young woman, one of those who had been sent to help Jaime bathe, put her smaller hand in his and was drawn to her father's side. "And what better way to secure the future of our families than with the marriage of my most comely daughter to the newly eligible Ser Jaime!"
As the guests in the hall pounded on the tables in approval, Jaime clenched his jaw, anger flowing through him at the presumption of old Lord Frey. That he would dare to set up this sort of trap for a Lannister, with no formal round of negotiations, no opportunity given for a diplomatic refusal. To stand up now and announce that he wanted nothing to do with a Frey bride would be seen as a grievous insult, both to the hopeful young woman blushing on the dais and to her conniving father.
Jaime was about to stand up and attempt to assert that House Lannister would not be manipulated thus, when Bronn pushed his chair back and rose instead.
"My lord, if I may speak," he said, his tone jovial. "I can see that Ser Jaime is gratified by your proposal, yet he cannot speak for wishing not to insult you or your lovely daughter." Jaime looked up at Bronn as though he had grown a second head, but the man continued, "However, I feel I should bear the burden of telling you and all those present what he had hoped to announce himself in due time. Ser Jaime is already betrothed to a high-born lady, and is not free to marry elsewhere."
I'm what? Jaime mouthed, and Bronn stilled him with a gesture.
Lord Frey looked as though someone had spit in his pigeon pie, his rheumy eyes narrowing dangerously. "This is news indeed, Ser Jaime. May we have the pleasure of knowing which lady will be the new mistress of Casterly Rock?"
Bronn grinned, obviously enjoying himself. "Why, Lady Brienne of Tarth, naturally."
Walder Frey scowled, but nodded grudgingly. "May I offer my congratulations on your betrothal, Ser Jaime?" He picked his goblet up and raised it again, "To your future happiness! May you have many sons." With that he sat back in his chair, waving his daughter back dismissively and gesturing to the musicians to resume. A jauntier tune replaced the ominous Rains of Castamere and the tension in the hall eased.
Bronn sat down again, looking smug.
"What in the seven hells did you say that for?" Jaime demanded. "You know I mean to get back to Cersei. She needs me, and it won't take longer than a fart in the wind for news of my 'betrothal' to spread."
"Aye, going back to your sister, you say?" Bronn leaned his elbows on the table and looked closely at Jaime, "Even though she's about to be convicted of fucking your cousin?"
"Yes, even if they convict her. The High Sparrow can make up whatever charges he wants against her, but I need to stand by her."
"Jaime, you are as blind as a mole in a tunnel of shit. The High Sparrow didn't have anything to do with that, it was Lancel who accused her."
"Lancel is a creature of the High Sparrow. Of course he would say that to curry favor. I'm like to kill him myself when I get back for it."
"Jaime, Jaime, Jaime fucking clueless Lannister, Lancel is the one who fucked your sister."
"No, I just told you, he made that up."
"He didn't fucking make it up. I was there while you were at your ease in the Tully dungeons. Cersei was fucking Lancel so he'd do her bidding, and Tyrion knew about it. Which means I knew about it."
Jaime froze, his hand halfway to his goblet, ice running through his veins at Bronn's news. Several things dropped into place at once. Cersei's attitude when he'd arrived home and her continuing coldness, and that business with Qyburn, who'd helped her with 'the other matter,' the symptoms of which had 'gone completely.' Had she conceived another man's child in the time he'd been captive? Had Lancel even been at the keep then, or were there others? The Kingsguard, Meryn Trant, who'd been following her around like a hungry puppy before he went to Bravos? The denial on his lips became a groan of pained acceptance,
Bronn heard and put his hand on Jaime's shoulder. "I'm truly sorry. All this time I thought you were just playing coy about what your sister was up tp. I'm sorry you had to find it out from me."
Jaime shook his head. He needed to be alone, but that was impossible. He had to ride this out, both his realization of Cersei's betrayal and Bronn's fake announcement about Brienne becoming his bride. When Cersei heard – no, what had Cersei to do with it? "Bronn, why did you tell them I was marrying Brienne, of all people?"
"Well, you love her, don't you?"
"It's true that I'm fond of the wench. But she would never –"
"Blind." Bronn said, sitting back and cracking his knuckles. "Whether you'll admit to your feelings or not, Lady Brienne is a high born maid, and will inherit Tarth. Tell me if I'm wrong, but I gathered that the island of Tarth is in a strategic position? And her daddy, Lord Whosit –"
"Lord Selwyn." Jaime filled in.
"Yeah, Lord Selwyn of fucking Tarth, Jaime, who hasn't allied with any side as yet. When you think of it the whole thing makes a bloody lot of sense. You do need a wife, and not just for strategy, either. It's about time you and she did the deed, if you haven't already."
"I told you we haven't." Jaime was looking around the hall now, gauging the mood, noting the exits.
"High time then, I'd say. If you're not horny as a stoat for that one you're not the man I thought you were."
Jaime hoped that the sudden rush of warmth he felt didn't show in his face. He took a steadying breath. "I couldn't ask her to be mine. She's too good for me. Too honorable." Brienne's words came back to him: I know there is honor in you. I've seen it myself.
"Well, you have a point there, right enough." Bronn sat back and lifted his wine. "And since you don't want her, I know someone who does."
"Who?"
"Me. You promised me a high-born lady, and I don't give fuck if she thinks I have honor or not. That lady's got some spirit; she'd give me a right proper ride I reckon. And I rather fancy having a castle on an island. I hear the water there is blue as sapphires." Bronn leaned back, putting his hands behind his head contentedly.
"Shut up. I need to think." Jaime pushed his goblet and uneaten food away. "For an up-jumped sell-sword you take a lot of liberties with your suggestions and demands."
Bronn grinned. "Aye, that I do. But I follow your orders, when they make sense."
"In that case I'm ordering you to leave the banquet. Go saddle up the horses." Jaime's mouth twisted in a half smile, "all four of them. I'll make our excuses to Lord Frey."
Bronn was standing before the order was complete. "Then what, my lord?"
"Then we ride north. If Brienne's still afoot it won't take long to catch up with her."
"And after that?" Bronn asked, pushing his chair back in.
Jaime stood as well. "After that I imagine I have a proposal to make."
"Podrick won't be too happy you know."
"Why should Pod care?"
"We had a wager. He owes me a silver dragon."