A/N A really short chapter I know, but I felt it needed to be separate from the last chapter. Originally I was going to end this fic here, but I decided to explore what would happen after the events of this chapter and so far, I've written two more chapters, which I need to edit before posting. Anyway, hope you like.

Disclaimer: No. ASOIAF isn't mine, surprisingly enough. It, and its characters belong to GRRM.


There was little space for them to share the bed, but it didn't matter – they wouldn't share it for long.

"You have to go," he murmured. Her face was incredulous, disbelieving. How could he send her away, back to her cell, after what they'd just done? He truly was a man without honour.

"It's not safe for you here. You're not clever enough to survive King's Landing, and if Cersei finds out I fucked you then she will kill you. Besides, you swore a vow,"

"To deliver Lady Stark's daughters?" She understood what he said about her being stupid. She assumed too much. He wasn't a bad man. He wasn't a good man either, but he cared for her, at least a little.

"Yes. I did promise Lady Stark her daughters… and one of them is still alive. I pay my debts like every good little lion, and I have a gift for you."

He shared what knowledge he had with her, of Sansa and Arya, or not Arya, as he knew. He waited, his head on her shoulder, until her breathing had levelled out. He wished they could stay there like this, fuck more, rest, sleep. But the gods were cruel. He would miss her warmth.

He forced himself to get up and dressed, though he left the leather jerkin on the floor where she had discarded it. He helped her into her dress, fiddling with the laces, but leaving them looser than her handmaiden had.

He led her back to the Lord Commander's solar, presenting her a bundle on crimson velvet. She reached out a hand to unfold the cloth. Rubies sparkled on the hilt, studded around a leather grip. The steel was the colour of blood and jet, folded together, forged lighter than any new steel with magic and dragonfire.

"Is this Valyrian steel?" she breathed. She knew the answer. The real question was why he was giving it to her? "I have never seen such colours."

"Nor I, but the blade is wasted on me. Take it, and call it Oathkeeper, it would please me," he instructed. "You want to please me, don't you, wench?"

His words were dark, and Brienne didn't care for them. "Not particularly, Kingslayer. Why are you giving this to me?"

"Consider it an engagement present that comes with a price," he returned.

"An engage-" she said, her eyes wide with surprise.

He cut her off. "Find Sansa Stark, take her somewhere safe and come back to me. Then, I will marry you."

"Why?"

"Because it's a good match. Your father will declare for King Tommen and be against Stannis, Stannis will lose the war and I get to be Lord of Tarth," he said smugly. Tarth, he thought, a smaller inheritance than he could have once had, but being away from Cersei and Tywin and the power of Casterly Rock was enough compensation.

"Kingsguard serve for life. You can't wed,"

"They'll let me leave the Kingsguard. I can't serve the king all that well if I only have one hand now, can I?"

"And what makes you think I want to wed you? Have Lannister children? What makes you think I want to bear anyone's children?" she snapped.

"Bear a bastard then," he returned, his eyes flicking to the slit between her legs. He imagined it was still smeared with a mix of her maiden's blood and his seed.

She looked shocked, as if no-one had never explained to her what happened between the marriage bed and childbirth. "What if-"

"Find a maester and have him brew you some moon tea. Tell him you were raped or something. Or have a bastard, a permanent stain on your honour," he grinned.

"And yours?" she replied.

"Not if I don't acknowledge it." His smile was dark and cruel. "I'm a man without honour, did you forget, wench?"

"My name is-" It didn't annoy her so much as it used to, being called a wench, not by him. It was almost a game they played.

"Brienne of Tarth, I know. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honour," he admitted.

"Fine. I will find Lady Sansa and keep her safe. For her lady mother's sake. And for yours."

He embraced her, his head buried in her chest. He would miss her. He reached up to her lips, slipping his tongue inside her mouth just for an instant, just to remind him how sweet she was. His lips tugged on her bottom one as she pulled away to leave. Before she did though, she took his right arm and trembling, pressed it to her lips. Her touch was as soft as a young knight's kissing a fair maiden's hand for the first time.

"I was that hand," he murmured.

She smiled sadly, returning his stump to his side. "I like you better without it."

"Farewell Jaime," she whispered, turning for the door, Oathbreaker in its little bundle of velvet in her arms.

"Goodbye Brienne."


A/N Hope you liked - if you did, please let me know in a review. Please?