Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones in any way, although I wish I owned the good ship Braime.
Rating: M for coarse language and reference to adult themes
Author's Note: Thank you so much for following my story! And shout out to DanyelN for the review, thank you! I adore Jaime and Brienne, their relationship is not one we see on screen very often in shows or movies. I'm glad you're all liking it so far.
~Chapter Two~
After his declaration, the tension had lessened, if not entirely dissipated. The dragon queen and her advisors began a discussion about tactics. How on earth would they face the threat from beyond the wall without the southern forces? To whom could they turn, who had not already been applied to? What chance did they stand? But stand they must.
Jaime was dead on his feet. He regretted now that he had passed up the chance to rest before speaking his piece. Just as he wondered how much longer his presence would be needed (for no one seemed to feel the need to consult him now that they knew his contribution was a one-handed man who could barely fight for his own life) he saw his brother break free of the throng of advisors and approach him.
"You look as if you will fall over at the touch of a feather."
"It's nice to see you too little brother."
There was a pause. "I suppose our sister does not yet know that you left King's Landing?"
Jaime's tone became dark. "You suppose incorrectly."
Tyrion's eyebrows shot up into his hair line. "She let you leave?"
Jaime turned a glare on him that almost made Tyrion step back a pace. "I make my own decisions."
"Clearly." They stood in silence for another moment. Tyrion seemed on the verge of continuing his inquiry, but then thought better of it. "You should get some rest brother. I'll show you to your chambers."
"Won't the queen miss your guiding Hand?"
Tyrion looked back over his shoulder briefly. The queen was listening to something the bastard was saying. "To be honest I'm not sure my advice is foremost in her mind these days." He sighed.
"You should get back up there. The Seven know we need someone with a clear head guiding us, and to my eye yours is the best one we've got."
"But who will escort you?"
Jaime smiled and looked into the corner where Brienne still stood, ever on duty. "Oh, I'll figure out something."
Tyrion followed his gaze, shook his head uncomprehendingly at the seeming friendship between his brother and the Maid of Tarth, and walked back to the high table.
Jaime approached Brienne and was glad when she finally turned to face him properly. He stood silently in front of her for a moment, taking in the sight of her, remembering that the last time he had done so, Cersei's eyes had been upon him the whole time. He was finally free of those eyes.
Brienne still seemed flustered by the night's events, but greeted him with her usual, "Ser Jaime."
"Lady Brienne."
They stood a moment longer, their words held back. It seemed that a gaze said enough. But Jaime wanted to hear her speak.
"I'm glad to see you."
She seemed to remember those words from the dragon pit, as he did. How different they sounded now, without the weight of bitterness.
"I'm glad to see that you have kept your word." She gave him a small smile.
There it was— she was indeed proud of him, and the thought was wonderful. It almost made him answer her smile. But old habits die hard. The bitterness encroached once more.
"Yes, I kept my word," he said in a low voice, his brows furrowed. "And now the North doesn't even have one more skilled warrior to help defend it, just a weak old cripple who will prove a liability; a man who is already mistrusted because he murdered the father of the woman to whom he has now pledged his sword."
She had let him rant, but now the tone of her voice made him look up at her.
"Yes, you kept your word. And that is worth more than if you had stayed in King's Landing with your entire army at your back."
"You really believe that, don't you?" he asked in a quiet voice.
"Yes," she said firmly. "And you do too, or that is where you would be now, isn't it?"
It was true. He searched for a change of subject.
"Well, what does a man have to do to get some food in his stomach and warmth in his bones?"
"There is a room that is being used as a refectory down the hall. I can find a servant to show you."
"I'd rather you showed me."
"I cannot leave my post, Ser Jaime."
"Oh come on, they're all squabbling like children, they won't reach any important decisions tonight. Not with what we all know is coming. Or not coming, as the case may be."
Still, Brienne looked up at the high table. At that moment Tyrion, who had been watching them out of the corner of his eye, said "Lady Brienne, would you be so kind as to show my brother where he can get some food and rest? He looks worse than the creature that came out of that box in the pit."
She bowed to him, and strode from the room, Jaime in pursuit.
They were silent as they traipsed down the corridor, the only sound the clink of her armor as she walked. He wore no armor, just a traveler's cloak and a leather jerkin, his soft boots hitting the stones soundlessly.
Her mind was still reeling. She had not expected to see him after their party had left the dragon pit. Their brief words had rung in her ears, and she had tried not to let the others see just how much his statement had hurt her.
This goes beyond houses and honor and oaths. Talk to the queen.
And tell her what?
He had turned his back on her, following the woman he would always follow, a moth to a sickly bright flame. She knew, had seen herself, the man that he was beneath his surname. She knew that he knew what honor was, what right and wrong were, and what, in the end, made a knight hold his (or her) head up high. Why was he still denying who he really was, who he could be, if only he would let himself listen?
And then, they had come back. Cersei had said that they would fight the northern threat alongside Queen Daenerys, that a truce would hold until the white walkers were no more. And Brienne's chest had swelled with pride, because he had listened to her after all.
He was supposed to come north in just over a week's time, with the full strength of his army. All of their plans had hinged upon the extra support. Even with it, their chances were slim.
And now here he was, by himself, keeping his word at the expense of everything he had fought so hard for.
Because now he had something new to fight for. What that was, she couldn't say. She was still trying to hold her emotions in check and not think about the kind things he had said about her to the queen. She was definitely not thinking about the expression on his face when he had looked her in the eye and said that he had left Cersei for good. No, she had much more important things to worry about than the fact that Jaime Lannister had ridden 600 leagues in the fierce winter to do the right thing. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts, she didn't realize he was speaking to her until he grabbed her arm and made her stop in her tracks.
"Have you heard anything I've said?"
Her expression must have shown that she hadn't taken in a word.
"I asked why you had pledged your sword to the Targaryen girl."
"Queen Daenerys," she corrected him.
"Yes, her. Since I've also sworn to serve her, perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me what kind of ruler she is?"
Brienne looked at him and levelled a question of her own. "While we're on the subject, do you mind telling me why you chose to pledge your loyalty to her simply because I did? What on earth were you thinking, saying those things?"
"Oh, you mean the nice things about how you're the best knight I've ever known?"
"Don't patronize me!"
"You're the only woman I know who takes a compliment as an insult! How do you not see that you're better than me, that you're everything I'm not?" He froze. It seemed he had surprised himself with the admission. Her, better than a Lannister? Her, better than the famed Kingslayer? Her, better than the knight before her who had cast off the love of the only woman he cared for because he knew she was wrong? But perhaps he, like she, was tired of dancing around words. In the face of such dangers as they knew were coming, it was easier to sift through what was important, and what was not. Under other, less-dire circumstances she would have been embarrassed and tongue-tied. He had never spoken to her with such frankness. But it was just the two of them in the corridor, and she was tired of his self-deprecation. She could feel the same anger she had had in the pit bubbling up inside her again.
"Jaime Lannister, stop your bloody whining! Why can't you see that you should be proud of the man you really are, instead of holding onto the man your wicked sister wanted you to be? You've got more honor without that hand than you ever had with it!" The hand that he had lost because of her.
Her speech seemed to have shocked them both again, and they stood in the firelit corridor, eyes sparking with anger, listening to the sounds of distant movements and trying to figure out why they had each said so much. When the silence became too uncomfortable, Brienne turned and continued walking. Trying to master her own voice, and pretend like the last minute had not happened, she continued. Talking about facts was much safer than wandering into the realm of emotion.
"Lady Sansa has been in charge of Winterfell ever since her brother went to King's Landing. Upon his return, the King in the North announced that he had pledged his sword to Queen Daenerys, and all who follow him have done the same."
Jaime snorted. "Sounds like a lot of oath-taking for someone who told me to fuck loyalty."
She almost laughed. How could he make her want to scream one minute, and smile the next? She quickly arranged her face in a serious expression.
"My pledge was no mere formality. I'm simply telling you what's happened. Since then, I've gotten to talk with the queen. She's had me attend several counsel meetings. She values your brother's advice, as well as that of Sansa's brother. She's strong, but not unreasonable. She listens to counsel while following her own convictions. If we all make it out of this fight, she will make a good queen, the kind of queen I want to follow."
A silence followed her words. She was ahead of him slightly, so she couldn't see the expression on his face, but somehow, she thought that he was thinking over her words. His brow would be furrowed, his lips drawn down into a contemplative crescent, his fingers tapping the hilt of his sword….
Mentally shaking herself, she realized that they had reached the refectory. Here and there the odd squire or group of attendants were gathered, breaking bread in between guard duty, gathering provisions, and generally preparing for imminent attack. Now that she thought of it, she hadn't eaten since that morning. There was always something more important to do, but a good warrior kept her strength up.
She and Jaime sat at one end of a long plank table. As they sat, she noticed that several pairs of eyes swiveled in their direction. The gazes were not friendly. She could just imagine the whispers as they turned back to each other.
Jaime clearly sensed the same. He looked up at her from under his brows.
"You don't have to stay if you don't want to."
Ordinarily she would have remained silent, but the small hint of hurt on his face made her want to reassure him. He had, she reminded herself, just traveled hundreds of leagues; not to mention turned his back on everything he had thought he wanted. She adopted an impatient tone.
"Really Ser Jaime, you act as if I am a stranger to the gossip of men I could easily knock into the dust."
It worked, and he smiled.
A Stark page came down the aisle then to bring them bread and mugs of ale. They took them gladly and ate in silence for a time. It was companionable, and made Brienne think of all the time they had spent together on dusty roads and under the shelter of the trees on their way to King's Landing, on Catelyn Stark's orders. Those times, so frustrating at first, now brought a smile to her lips.
"What's so funny?" She hadn't realized Jaime had been watching her.
"Nothing," she said quickly, cursing the blush she knew was spreading over her face.
He opened his mouth, presumably to continue his badgering, when his gaze flickered to a Stark bannerman who had come to stand beside them.
"Well, well," he growled. "Never thought we'd see the Kingslayer back in the North. What's the matter, your sister get tired of fucking you? Sent you up here to freeze your balls off instead?"
Jaime looked up at him coolly. "I don't have time to waste on rats like you."
The man did not take the hint evident in Jaime's tone. "Oh, you think your gold and your title and your fancy sword make you such a big man. But you're no better than the rest of us. I bet you can't even hold that fancy sword with that gold hand of yours, you washed-up cripple."
Jaime opened his mouth, but Brienne spoke first.
"There's no need for language like that sir." The man turned to look at her. "You are addressing Ser Jaime Lannister, a knight of the realm, and you will treat him with respect."
The man laughed and turned to Jaime once more. "I had no idea this ugly beast was the Kingslayer's whore."
In one moment, Jaime was on his feet and had the man by the scruff of his collar, his golden hand raised to strike the man's flabby face. The man clawed at Jaime's left hand around his throat, to no avail.
"You are addressing the Lady Brienne of House Tarth," he hissed through his teeth. "You will never speak to her in that manner again unless you want my face to be the last thing you ever see on this earth. I don't just kill kings. Gutter rats bleed just as well, and just as long." He took a long look at the man before shoving him forcibly away.
Jaime looked to Brienne, and they walked out of the hall together, aware that all eyes were upon them.
They remained silent as they walked the candlelit corridor. They could still hear preparations being made in the courtyard, the footsteps of servants going up and down the halls, the sound of armor ringing and boots upon cobblestones. Jaime finally realized, after ten minutes of wandering through the castle, that he hadn't the faintest notion of where he was. He voiced as much to his silent companion.
"I have no idea where the hell I'm going."
Brienne's voice replied behind him. "Guest quarters are upstairs. Follow me." She turned towards another hall, and he pursued.
"So you were just following me as I walked around the halls like a lunatic?"
"You seemed angry. For all I knew, I needed to stop you from doing something stupid," she huffed.
"Why is it that every time I defend your honor, you get angry at me?"
"Not every time. Just when there is no need."
He sighed. He was too tired to make a fight of it.
They ascended the main stair and wound their way through the corridors until they reached a hall of plain wooden doors. She opened one, poked her head in, and said "It looks like this one is free. Did you bring anything with you?"
"Just a bedroll with a few things stashed inside. It was tied to the saddle."
She nodded. "I'll have Podrick fetch it and start a fire for you."
"Thank you." They stood in the hall for a moment. It had been a strange night. Jaime was more tired than he'd ever been in his life. So much had happened but his mind was starting to slow down with the weight of it all.
"Well, goodnight," he said wearily.
"Goodnight." He turned to open the door, but her voice stopped him.
"One last thing Ser Jaime." He smiled as the familiar words brought him to a tent on the battlefield, this same woman facing him under much different circumstances.
"Yes, Lady Brienne?"
She gave him a small smile. "I'm glad to see you too."
And she vanished down the hall.
