Chapter 1

Oathbreaker

"Ser? My Lady?" his voice was still rough and harsh from his near brush with death but the boy was nothing if not dutiful, and so Brienne thought, as he handed her the whetstone she had requested he fetch her from her saddlebags.

She could think of nothing else to do that night as they made camp and Pod's wide, over-bright eyes followed her wherever she went, noting every movement or else stared off into the gloom as though expecting that they would be set upon at any moment.

"Thank you, Podrick." She told him quietly, accepting the stone and laying the sword tenderly across her lap.

He settled down between her and the fire, watching attentively in case she might have need of something else from him. The firelight flickered across his pale skin and sent strange, twisted shadows dancing across his features, transforming them worryingly, making him appear gaunt and wane, giving the impression that she had made camp with a skeleton.

She shivered slightly at that thought, despite the heat from the fire, as she remembered the companions she had left at their previous camp...Something that did not bear thinking about.

"Ser, my Lady, are you cold? Shall I fetch more wood for the fire?" Pod enquired quickly,

She smiled slightly at his attentiveness. Of course he had noted the tremor that had ran through her, but how could he know that it had been nothing to do with the cold.

She was about to tell him that she was fine, and that the shiver had not been one produced of cold, but the lad needed something to occupy him, that was clear as the day was long and she sent him scampering gratefully into the brush to collect more wood for the fire, warning him not to go far and to shout if he got in to difficulties.

She was fairly sure that they should be safe enough here though. They were close enough to the road and their camp lay between two towns that were heavily populated, despite their location. They should be safe enough. If anyone could be safe in these troubled times...

Unbidden, her thoughts returned to the night before, watching poor Pod hanging from the tree, his fingers desperately scrabbling at the noose around his neck. It had been all she could do not to scream and in the end she had. She had unbent her honour in order to save the boy's life.

It was strange, and so she told herself. The boy had been Tyrion Lannister's squire, by that fact alone, she ought not to trust him. But he had proven himself to be a true and loyal companion, with an almost reckless bravery that had startled her and had been shown to be an eager and quick learner, and someone that she had enjoyed having about her on the road.

When they had cut him down his lips had turned blue and his limbs were twitching horribly but somehow, the gods heard her prayers and they spared the boy's life. Then it was all she could do to let him hold on to it...

He had gaped at her and spluttered through the water they had tried to offer him, eyes wide and disbelieving as she had attempted to reason with the outlaws, and specifically, Lady Stoneheart who had watched her with those cold, harsh eyes, not even a shadow of the woman she had once been.

Pod returned then, arms overflowing with wood, looking as though he had chopped down half the forest in his attempts to make her comfortable.

She laughed then, heartened by the boy's kindness.

He glanced up at her then, uncertain if he was being mocked, wide eyes watching her as he deftly re-arranged the logs on the fire, "Ser?" he asked, voice caught between fearful and uncertainty, "Have I done something wrong My Lady?"

"No Podrick." She told him gently, a smile still gracing her lips, glad that she had allowed him to accompany her, "Come, sit by me, I would speak with you tonight."

"Concerning what ser? My Lady?" he asked, stumbling down beside her,

"Concerning this," she said, holding Oathkeeper out for his inspection, "Do you know how to sharpen a sword, Podrick?"

Theb boy shook his head, "No ser, my lady. Lord Tyrion..." he broke off at that point, the ghost of a smile lighting his face at some memory that she was not privy to, "He said that books were the whetstone of the mind, but he never had much use for the real thing..."

"I see." Brienne said quietly, absently running a thumb along the side of Oathkeepers blade, testing it.

In truth, she had not seen The Imp as having been a great swordsman and, now that she thought on it properly, realised that Podrick's time with him would most likely have been spent running to the library and not the smithy.

"Would you like to learn?" she asked him,

"To sharpen a sword? Please ser. Ah, my lady."

She smiled again at that. The jumbling of titles and phrases that he stumbled over when first they met had become a habit and she had not troubled herself to correct them, not being sure what the right title was for her at any rate, and realising now that she would miss whichever one he refrained from using.

He sat up, attentively, hanging on her every word as though he intended to use them and remember them until his dying day which, she reminded herself, was not something she would put past him. Having served the Imp for so long had given Pod a taste for knowledge and that had developed into a voracious hunger that had blossomed on the road whenever she had placed a sword anywhere near him. He had been a keen learner and, so she soon learned, far more proficient with the blade than she had anticipated.

She showed him how to soak the whetstone before use and then the proper way to run it along the blade in order to get a keen, sharp edge on it. She watched his eyes light up, flickering along the length of the sword and pinning down every move she made with the stone, committing it to memory.

When they were finished, she had him dry the blade for her while she stowed the whetstone in her saddlebags once more.

She returned to the fire to watch him gazing, longingly at the sword. She could not fault him for that, it was something she herself had done on many occasions. She had never believed that a weapon could, or even should be aesthetically pleasing. It was a tool of war, meant to bring death and to coat itself in blood, but she had to admit, that there was a strange, raw beauty to Oathkeeper, that she herself had admired and cherished since Jamie had given it to her.

She thought of Jamie then and her heart ached. She knew what she was doing. Knew what she had sworn to do.

It is the right thing. It must be the right thing. Lady Catelyn still lurks somewhere within that monster. I saw her there, when I cried out. When she spared my life, and Pod's. She will do the right thing. I am sworn to her. I must uphold my vows. I must do as she has asked...

And yet...And yet...

They said that deeds were stronger than words. She had taken no oaths and sworn Jamie no vows but nevertheless, she was in his debt. He had saved her from being raped by Bloody Mummers on the road and had returned for her, to save her life when she was trapped in that bear pit.

She would remember the sight of him leaping in to the pit beside her, pulling her behind him, despite her protests and standing alone and unarmed in front of an angry bear until she drew her dying breath.

It had been him she saw as the noose was slipped around her neck then, and it had been him she had thought of as she had cried out the word that had spared her life and Podrik's.

And now...

No. She would not think about now. In this world, cruel and twisted, where the high lords played their game of thrones, there were pieces and there were players. As a knight, Brienne was a piece. She allowed the lords to play their games and used her to do what they would. She was their humble and loyal servant, the one they knew they could depend upon. As Lady Catelyn depended on her.

As Jamie was depending on her.

She irritably pushed the thought from her mind. She was sworn, first and foremost, to Lady Catelyn. That was the one she was sworn to serve and protect Jamie...

Jamie was a complication. An irritating thorn in her side, as stubborn as it was inexplicably desirable. He had changed. He was not the man she had first thought him to be. He had proven that to her a half a hundred times. She owed him much, besides her life.

She understood now what he had meant. "They make you swear too many oaths...And what happens when they conflict?"

What did happen?

She clung to her oaths and her morals because it gave her something to cling to. Something she could always swear was right. If she did as she was bid then no-one could ever accuse her of acting dishonourably, of doing anything wrong. All she was doing was the work of her master. Of the one she was sworn to. She could not be doing ill then...

Jamie's voice floated to her then,

If the servant obeys the master and slaughters the innocent, upon whose hands does the blood linger?

On mine... She told herself.

Was it not possible to do good, to do the right thing, without having it sworn in an oath or a vow? Could one not do something honourable, even if it was not their duty.

Jamie told her once that she had made him more honourable. That she had helped him to find a path after staggering on blindly in the dark for so long. It seemed to her that he had had just as much of an influence over her life as she had on his.

She could not do this. Whatever the cost and whatever they might call her, she could not do that to the man she...

To the man she what? Owed? Respected? Admired? Loved...

The last thought terrified her and she was so glad then for Podrick's interruption, that it might well have been him she kissed.

"Ser? My Lady?" he hesitated, clearly wondering if he was overstepping the mark as he asked uncertainly, "Is...Is something wrong?"

"Why would you say that Podrick?" she asked him quietly,

"I..." he stumbled over his words, flushing darkly and taking a moment to marshal his thoughts before making an uncomfortable eye contact with her once more and saying, "You do not look...Happy, my lady, ser..."

"No Podrick, I do not..." she agreed with a heavy sigh, running her eye along Oathkeeper's length and wondering why she had not sheathed it yet, "What do you think of...This?" she asked, gesturing around them,

"It's not my place to think on it ser, my lady..." he replied quietly, shuffling his feet slightly,

"But you do, don't you?" she said. For all his inability to string sentences together to form a coherent conversation, the boy was more than capable of stringing two coincidences together and finding the truth of the matter that would elude others, his wits were not near as dull as his tongue, of that she was sure,

"I...Might ser, my lady..." he replied uncomfortably, looking as though she might be tricking him,

"Then I might hear them." She told him, watching him carefully,

"My Lady!" he protested, shocked, "I...It is not my place, ser, I could not."

"I would hear what you have to say on this matter Podrick," she told him firmly, "You have a sensible head on your shoulders, more so than most, and I would hear what it has to say on this matter."

"I, very well ser...If My Lady commands it..." he mumbled, flushing slightly. He hesitated before saying, "You swore an oath to lady Catelyn, did you not?" he asked,

"I did." Brienne said gravely, "I swore to find her daughters, if I could, and to return them to her."

"And you swore an oath to Ser Jamie as well?" Podrick confirmed,

She watched him wryly, as he flushed, and well might he, she thought, sighing and shaking her head, wondering where he had come by that piece of information, as she certainly had not told him.

"I did. I told him I would defend his honour and find the Stark girls and make sure they were safe, as he swore to their mother, Lady Catelyn, upon his release." She paused, watching him carefully to see what he made of this, before he could answer however, she asked him, "How did you know?"

"I...Well..."he mumbled to his knees, "If you had not sworn an oath to Ser Jamie, you would not be uncertain about whether to obey Lady Catelyn...Or Lady Stoneheart..."

"You have too much sense for your own good." She told him, shaking her head, realising that if she wished her thoughts to remain private she would need to guard them more carefully,

"Thank you Ser, My Lady..." Podrick mumbled, looking strangely pleased with himself, his ears turning red at the compliment, "But...You have sworn them both the same oath, have you not?" Pod asked, returning to the subject she had charged him with, "To find Lady Catelyn's daughters and ensure their safety...So if you obey one, by extension, you obey the other."

"But one has charged me to kill the other." Brienne sighed heavily,

"Not...Not quite Ser, My Lady...You were only charged with brining the Kingslayer to Lady Catelyn so that she might judge him..."

That was true. Brienne had managed to negotiate that much. But it amounted to the same thing in the end.

"Podrick," she told him sternly, watching him with an appraising eye that he squirmed beneath, "I do not believe that you are so much of a fool to believe that if we do bring Ser Jamie before Lady Catelyn that she will not execute him? If I do as I am bid by Lady Catelyn, it will mean Jamie's death, of that I am sure..."

"Lady Stoneheart..." Pod muttered quietly,

"What do you mean?" Brienne asked, rather more sharply than she had intended,

"Do you believe that...That creature is Lady Catelyn any longer?" Pod asked her softly, large, bright eyes shining.

Brienne had not considered that before, wondering if she was still bound to 'that creature' as Pod put it. No. She would not use technicalities to escape her oath.

She shook her head and replied, "Whatever she may be now, I swore her an oath, and that I must uphold. Even if I do not consider my promises to find her daughters, I swore that I would bring Jamie to her if she might spare our lives. I am bound by that promise at least."

"But you also swore an oath to the Kinglsayer that you are bound by..." Pod said in a measured voice, reiterating her dilemma,

"I am." Brienne agreed, troubled, "And now I do not know whose oath I should be bound by. To whom do I owe allegiance?"

"I...If I might speak freely ser, my lady?" Pod asked cautiously,

"Of course. " she said, "I would hear what you would say Podrick, I have said this."

"I...My Lady, Ser, if you had not sworn an oath to either, if you were doing this of your own free will...Whose orders would you carry out then?"

She considered this, and the answer came too easily to her. She shook her head.

"But I am bound by oaths." She said irritably,

"But...Above all Ser, My Lady...You wish to do the right thing?" Pod asked tentatively,

"Yes. I do."

The right thing...She mused, yes, that is what I want, that is what I always want. My oaths and my duties help lead me to doing the right thing after all. That is what I want.

"Then...I would say you must ask yourself what the right thing is. If you had no oaths to either, and no obligation, would you bring Ser Jamie to...To that woman, or would you continue trying to find Sansa and Arya Stark?"

"I would try and find Sansa and Arya..." she admitted, but even as she said the words, she knew that they were wrong. They turned to ash in her mouth and threatened to choke her as she heard the word,oathbreaker, shouted back at her.

"Then you know." Pod told her simply,

"But I do not. That is not..."

"I did not say you knew that is what you must do Ser, I only said that now you know what you must do, My Lady." Pod told her neatly, watching her with a guarded expression,

She paused, struck by this and they sat in silence for a long time until Pod ventured carefully,

"Ser...My Lady...Might...Might there be something else that is affecting your decision?"

"What do you mean?" she asked sharply, knowing exactly what he meant,

"How you feel about...About the Kinglsayer, Ser, My Lady..."

"I, I do not feel anything about Ser Jamie." She spluttered, realising in that moment what had given her away, even to herself, "That is not your place Podrick." She told him sternly,

"My apologies Ser, My Lady..." he murmured, flushing darkly, and making her sure that she would not be able to extract a word from him anymore than she would be able to draw blood from her whetstone, for the next few days.

"You should try and get some sleep Podrick. We will have a long day tomorrow."

"Yes My Lady, I, Ser..." he said, hurrying away from her as though concerned that she was carrying the pale mare and scurried off to get his sleeping mat, leaving her alone with the fire flickering over her face.

As with everything else he had said to her that night however, she found more than a grain of truth in his last words.

What did she feel about Jamie? And could she let that change what she now knew needed to be done?

Jamie. A Lannister, a lion by name and by nature. Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. Traitor. Liar...Saviour...

Whatever they may say about him, she knew the truth. She knew the man not the deeds. She had sworn to herself before she left that she would behave impartially and impassively towards him, that she would not rise to any of his bait, that she would not give credence to any of his wild tales or excuses.

But slowly, day by day, mile by mile, step by step and word by word, she had found herself getting to know Jamie Lannister, and not the Kingslayer. She had heard tales of him for as long as she could remember, of his infamy, of his arrogance, and his self-interest, how he had killed the Mad King for personal glory only, he had done it to give himself the title of Kingslayer, that he approved of it, that he wore it like a crown, that he was proud of his treachery. That he was more beast than man.

A monster in golden armour that someone draped a white cloak around by all accounts.

But that was not the man she knew. The man she knew was brave and selfless, else he would never have leapt in to a bear pit to save someone he had once crossed swords with. He was true. True to her at least. He had never betrayed her, or attempted to sell her out, he had spared her, had risked a beating, and worse, by informing her captors that she was worth her weight in sapphires, and that if they raped her, her value would be diminished, thus saving her. He had not had to do that, she had not asked him to, and yet he had. He had done as his oaths had bid him, to protect the weak and the innocent.

That was not the man they told her he was.

The man she knew. The man she... Did she? Did she truly feel that way about him? There was a connection between them, there was no denying that. They had both been there for the other at the time when they were weakest, the most vulnerable, and the most insecure, they had both protected and saved the other. That forged a deep, unavoidable bond.

But was there more?

Could there be more?

Could there be desire? Of course there was desire. Every woman in the Seven Kingdoms desired Jamie Lannister, or had at some point in their lives, she was no different. But could there be more than that? Could she want him?

She decided that she could. That she missed him.

They had spent a long time travelling together. She had become accustomed to having him by her side. Even at the times he had been making cruel japes about her, testing her, pushing her, trying to push her too far, to make her snap, to get under her skin, apparently, for the sole pleasure of knowing that he had done that.

She found that she missed his japes. His reckless abandon on the road, not caring who knew he was there. She missed his taunting and his cruelty. She even missed him calling her 'wench'.

And she missed what their relationship had developed in to. A mutual respect for one an another and the skills they each had. He had given her a certain sense of security, a comfort almost, she knew that, if they hit danger, he would be at her back, or most likely at her front, trying to be the noble gentleman and protect her from whatever trouble they had run in to.

She missed his presence with her. The same way she missed the familiar weight of a sword at her hip, or a dagger in her boot when they were not there. She missed him as she imagined he would have missed his hand when they had taken it from him. The man she had began despising, despite her pretence of indifference had grown so close to her, that it felt as though they had taken a limb from her.

She missed him.

And she loved him.

She knew that now. There was no use hiding from it. She loved him. Whether or not he could love her back. It was a different kind of love to the one she had held for Renly Baratheon, that had been born of admiration and respect, this was born of lust and intimacy.

And so now that begged the question: Could she send the man she loved to his death for the sake of an oath?

A/N: Just a little introductory chapter, I've never tried writing these characters before but I really love this ship so I thought I would give it a bash! Any and all thoughts are welcome, please, let me have it! :) Thanks for reading!