Chapter Three

The small council meeting ran longer than usual the next morning. Lord Bronn and Ser Davos had gotten into an argument about the cost of rebuilding the royal fleet, and Grand Maester Tarly had spent a good deal of time trying to negotiate a peace between them. Tyrion had stayed relatively silent on the matter, and Brienne could only imagine it was because he had been distracted by other things. In fact, he had been uncharacteristically quiet all morning, and she feared that could only mean something was deeply troubling him.

When the meeting finally adjourned, everyone began to file out of the room. Brienne was halfway to the door, when Tyrion called out to her.

"Lord Commander, a word, please."

Brienne stopped, and Bronn turned his head to give her a questioning look. He raised an eyebrow as if to ask, What kind of trouble are you in now? But Brienne ignored him. She simply turned around, her shoulders back, her head held high, and faced the Hand of the King.

"Bronn," Tyrion called past Brienne, "shut the door on your way out. I want a private word with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."

"A private word, huh?" Bronn scoffed. "Is that what they're calling it now?"

"Just shut the door."

The door closed behind Brienne, and an oppressive silence settled over the room. Her heart beat an uneven rhythm as she waited for Tyrion to speak.

He offered her an awkward smile, as if he was trying to ease her insecurities. Or maybe he was trying to ease his own.

"Please," Tyrion said, holding out a hand toward the chair beside him. "Sit. There's something we need to discuss."

Brienne walked back to the table and lowered herself down into the chair. She kept her posture rigid as she turned to face him. "Yes, my lord, what is it?"

"Tyrion, remember?" he said with an uncomfortable laugh. "There's no need for titles here."

"What is it, Tyrion?"

"We had a visitor to the Red Keep last night, a veteran of the Battle of Winterfell. He is looking for a post, and I thought you might want him for the Kingsguard."

A small sigh escaped Brienne's throat, and her shoulders relaxed slightly. Was that all Tyrion wanted to talk about? A new recruit? She had feared it was something worse, something much more personal.

"Who is he?" Brienne asked, wondering if it was someone she knew.

"Oh, just a soldier who fought among the ranks," Tyrion said with a careless wave of his hand. "He was here in King's Landing too, when the city fell. He was injured, and he has just finally made a full recovery. I thought, perhaps, you could meet with him and decide for yourself if you'd like to take him under your command."

"I will do whatever you wish," Brienne replied with a deferential nod in Tyrion's direction. "You are Hand of the King after all."

"But the Kingsguard is under your command, and therefore, all recruitment decisions are to be left to your discretion. If you don't want to take him on, I will understand. I'll just have to find him another post, that's all."

Brienne's eyes narrowed on Tyrion, her curiosity piqued. "Just who is this man? Is he a war hero? Does he owe you something personally?"

Tyrion nodded. "Yes, and yes. But as I said, you are under no obligation to accept him into your ranks. All I ask is that you meet with him and decide for yourself."

"Very well. When would you like me to meet him?"

"Now."

"Now?"

"He's waiting for you in the White Sword Tower. I'd like you to meet with him at once."

Brienne's shoulders tightened, and her pulse began to race. Obviously, whoever was waiting for her was someone important, someone the Hand of the King cared very much about. Brienne knew she would have to tread carefully, lest she offend the most powerful man in the Six Kingdoms.

"In that case," Brienne replied, "I will go now. I do not wish to keep him waiting."

"Thank you," Tyrion said. "I appreciate your prompt attention to the matter."

Brienne pushed her chair away from the table and stood, and Tyrion did the same. She offered him nothing more than a cursory nod before turning away and leaving the room.

In the months that Brienne had served as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Tyrion had never once asked her a personal favor, and this felt very much like a personal favor. She feared what she would find when she entered the White Sword Tower. Tyrion could have easily given her a name when she'd asked who she would be meeting with, but he hadn't, and she was certain he'd had a very good reason for that. Tyrion Lannister never did anything without a very good reason, and Brienne knew she wasn't going to like whatever she found waiting for her, but she had no choice but to forge ahead.

The door to the common room was slightly ajar when Brienne finally reached it, and she slowed her steps as she approached. Something felt wrong about the current situation. Instead of feeling like she was walking into the common room of the White Sword Tower, she felt like she was walking into battle. Her fingers twitched, itching to reach for the sword at her hip, but she resisted the urge. She was not on the battlefield. She was in the Red Keep, and there was no reason for her to draw her weapon just yet.

Brienne peered around the edge of the door, stealing a glance inside. Although she had a fairly good view of the room, she couldn't see anyone within. So she did the only thing she could do. She pushed the door open and finally stepped inside.

There was a man standing on the far side of the room, staring out one of the windows that overlooked Blackwater Bay. Even though his back was to her and she could not see his face, there was something eerily familiar about him. He was tall, with dark blond hair, and he held himself with the self-assurance of a man born to a noble house. For a moment, Brienne thought she was seeing a ghost. Had she not known it was impossible, she would have sworn that Jaime Lannister had come back from the dead.

Brienne's heart thumped beneath her ribs, and her head swam as she fought to ground herself in reality. She tried to speak, but she couldn't catch her breath long enough to utter a single word. She just stood there, staring at the phantom before her, waiting for him to say something, waiting for him to turn around and shatter her delusions. But he stayed just as he was, still and silent and distant.

Brienne's right hand curled around the hilt of her sword, and she forced herself to focus on the feel of cold metal in her hand. It brought her back to herself, gave her the comfort and courage she needed to do what she had to do, to stop acting like a grieving fool and to start acting like the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

Brienne released her grip on Oathkeeper and cleared her throat. "Lord Tyrion asked me to meet with you regarding your desire to join the Kingsguard. He has left your recruitment solely to my discretion. If I find you worthy, I shall accept you into my ranks."

The man shook his head as he slowly turned around. "If that's the case, then you should probably send me away right now."

Brienne stumbled backwards, her knees nearly buckling beneath her. Jaime Lannister stood not ten feet away, staring up at her with the most hauntingly beautiful eyes she had ever seen. Brienne's own eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. She was overcome with so many emotions that her entire body felt numb. Relief, joy, anger, fear, regret. She felt all of it, and for a moment, she couldn't even speak.

"I suppose my brother didn't tell you who you were meeting with, did he?" Jaime said, breaking the awkward silence. "He's such a selfish little bastard sometimes."

But Brienne barely heard a word Jaime said. She was so overwrought that her mind could scarcely comprehend half of what was going on. "What . . . what are you doing here?" The words fell from her lips without her even realizing it. "You're . . . you're supposed to be dead."

Jaime laughed, though it was a bitter sound. "Yes, I am at that. But Tyrion saved me. He found me among the rubble and helped me escape. I fled King's Landing and went south. I've spent the past six months in a fishing village near Storm's End, recovering from my wounds."

Brienne tried to make sense of Jaime's words, but it was nearly too much for her. It took her a minute to filter through everything he had said, to understand what it all meant. Finally, everything began to fall into place, and her heart pounded faster beneath her breast. "You . . . you've been alive this whole time, and you didn't say anything? You didn't send word? A letter? A note? Something?"

Jaime shook his head. "I thought it was better if you thought I was dead. I thought it would be easier for you to move on."

"Easier?" Brienne's hands curled into fists at her sides, and she fought the urge to hit him. How many sleepless nights had she spent mourning Jaime Lannister? How much time had she lost grieving him? And for what? "How . . . how could thinking you were dead make things easier for me? After everything we've been through together, everything we've shared—" Brienne's cheeks flushed warmly at the memory of the few precious nights she had spent in Jaime's arms. She suddenly felt like an even bigger fool than she had the night he'd abandoned her.

"I didn't think you would ever want to see me again," Jaime said, his voice hollow. "You deserve better, and I thought it would be easier for you to get over the pain if I just never came back."

Brienne clenched her fists even tighter, her nails biting into the palms of her hands. The pain felt good. It grounded her and kept her from collapsing to her knees. "Then what are you doing here now? If that was really what you thought, why didn't you just stay away forever?"

"I thought I was staying away," Jaime replied. "I came here to see Tyrion. I had no idea that you were in King's Landing or that you were Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. I thought you were still at Winterfell. I had no reason to think otherwise."

Jaime's reasoning did nothing to quell Brienne's anger. To know that he was only standing before her now by some cruel twist of fate was not comforting in the least. "If that's true," she said, her voice hardening, "why show yourself at all?" And then, before he could answer, the truth finally hit her, and Brienne laughed. "Unless, of course, you're planning to stay here in King's Landing and you had no choice but to show yourself. That's it, isn't it?"

"Yes, and no."

Brienne wanted to throw him out of the room, to shove him out the door and tell him that she never wanted to see him again. But she couldn't. She could barely even move. Her limbs were shaking, her entire body trembling. Instead of feeling sure and steady, she felt uncertain and weak, and she didn't know how she was going to survive their encounter without bursting into tears.

"What does that mean?" Brienne asked tightly, certain she didn't want to know the answer.

"It means that I didn't come to King's Landing intending to stay, but that when I heard you were here, I knew I had no choice."

She laughed again, the effort making her ribs ache. "You can't possibly expect me to believe that you're staying here to be close to me? To what? Lure me back into your bed now that your sister is gone?"

"No," Jaime said softly, "not that. I'm staying because I hurt you deeply. I know that. I'm willing to give my life to you, to join the Kingsguard and serve under you for the rest of my days. You can punish me, torture me, ridicule me. Whatever you'd like. You can spend the rest of your days making my life a misery, and I would be grateful for the privilege. I'm sorry, Brienne, for everything. And I just want to do whatever I can to make amends, even though this is one debt I know I'll never be able to repay."

Brienne glared at Jaime, her eyes burning into him with thinly veiled fury. She didn't want to help him atone for his sins. She didn't want to give him the forgiveness he was seeking, to make him feel better about all the horrible things he had done. It was bad enough that he had abandoned her for Cersei, but to spend six months lying about being alive was somehow a great deal worse. If he had only told her the truth, reached out to her just once, she might have been spared months of suffering. But instead, she had cried an ocean of tears while he had been just to the south, living his life and pretending that he was doing her some altruistic favor.

"I don't want you in the Kingsguard," Brienne replied. "Tyrion left your enlistment to my discretion, and I don't want you anywhere near me. Stay in King's Landing or go, I don't care. But I don't want anything to do with you, Jaime Lannister. As far as I'm concerned, you died beneath the Red Keep six months ago, and I never want to see you again."

Brienne turned on her heel and tried to walk to the door, but her legs wouldn't carry her. She stood there for a long moment, trying to catch her breath, trying to hold back the tears. She almost managed it too, until Jaime's voice broke the silence.

"Brienne," he whispered her name softly, just as softly as when she'd been lying in his arms back at Winterfell.

That was all it took to break her, and Brienne suddenly began to sob. She buried her face in her hands, trying to hide her shame, but it was no use. There was no way to hide her tears from Jaime, no matter how hard she tried.

Brienne felt him move up beside her, and her whole body tensed. She dropped her hands and lifted her head to find Jaime standing in front of her, his eyes full of pain and concern.

"Brienne, I am so sorry—"

But she couldn't let him finish. Without thinking, Brienne curled her right hand into a fist, raised her arm, and punched Jaime Lannister squarely in the face.

Jaime howled in pain and grabbed his nose, coddling it protectively as blood began to seep through his fingers.

Brienne squared her shoulders, and her tears dried up. She suddenly felt worlds better, even though there was still a hollow ache in her heart.

"I suppose I deserved that," Jaime said as he pulled his hand away and looked down at the blood on his fingers. He raised his eyes to Brienne again and gingerly felt the bridge of his nose. "I don't think it's broken, but if you'd like to try again—"

"Don't tempt me."

Jaime swiped the blood from beneath his nose and finally dropped his hand. "I'm sorry, Brienne. I—"

But she didn't want to hear anything else he had to say. She glared at him, stopping him in midsentence before she turned and walked away.

With slow, even strides, Brienne exited the room, slamming the door behind her in one final show of fury. She would be perfectly happy if she never saw Jaime Lannister again.