Author's Note: Thank you so much for sticking around - and for the overly kind reviews!
In response to them:
To my Argentinian friend who is, from what translation tells me, very much into getting Cersei out of the way ;) Thank you, I am glad that I seemingly managed to capture the emotions well. I try my best, so it always comes as a great relief to hear others say (or see others write) that they like it. I can't promise to kill Cersei or have her do the "Walk of Shame" (once again, I don't know if I gathered this from your review correct, I rely on the translator here). And yes, we all need a bit of romance, but Jaime and Brienne are complicated beings - though hormones will definitely come in starting with this chapter ;)
To elaine451: Thank you so much! And welcome to my other fanfiction ;) I, too, hope that they find a way together, but I can't say so for certain of course. I am a mean author. I take my time figuring out what I do to my characters ;P
To MarySBarros: I hope your inner fangirl is fine despite reveling in the feels. Thank you so much. I am always a little uncertain if I depict the psyche and characterizations well, so I am glad to see that you think I did a good job at that. Can't wait to write more either ;)
To my guest reviewer: I'm trying my best to keep up with the updates.
I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter ^^
Jaime wrinkles his nose, his chin resting on his good hand, after a few unsuccessful attempts to lean on the metal hand, which only resulted in it almost coming off and him almost throwing a tantrum.
This thing is pure frustration.
"Are you waiting for someone, dear brother?" Tyrion asks. Jaime blinks. Oh right, all people invited to the rich breakfast already disappeared, except for the two Lannister brothers. He can't even remember if he talked to someone, even less what others said around him. It is all a sort of blur now that he comes to think of it.
"The wench didn't show up," Jaime replies with a shrug of his broad shoulders.
Tyrion makes a face, "I still don't know how she doesn't slap you each time you call her that. I heard you name her 'wench' at least a dozen times since I am here, and whenever I dared to call a lady like that, I got it right back in my face."
"She's no lady," Jaime replies matter-of-factly. "And anyways, she knows how I mean it."
"You are odd," Tyrion huffs.
"That you of all people say that," Jaime snorts with a smug grin.
"What? I am a very normal man, aside from my stunning looks," Tyrion huffs, returning the smirk. "Did you know that she's been talking to my wife yesterday?"
"No, she forgot to mention that to me," Jaime makes a face. In fact, he saw Brienne only briefly for dinner, but already then she didn't sit with him, since Margaery insisted that she sits with her, and even though Jaime doesn't know the woman from Highgarden for long, she has this kind of influence on people. She simply makes you do things without questioning.
"Hm, hm, she told her about her oath to Catelyn Stark," Tyrion goes on.
"How do you know about the content of their conversation?" Jaime grimaces.
"Do you really think I let someone talk to Sansa without knowing what is going on? That poor thing is in danger here, we all know it. I don't know your companion, so of course I take predicaments and stay close by. It does have its advantages to be small. Hiding in the bushes is so much easier if you don't have to duck," Tyrion goes on. Jaime flashes a small smile, "Anything else I should know about?"
"I wanted to ask you the same question. Is there something I should know about?" Tyrion returns.
"You mean to say?" Jaime asks. His younger brother looks at him, edging closer, "Lady Brienne talked about an oath she and you apparently made to Catelyn Stark, about protecting Sansa and Arya, and reuniting them with her mother, which is of course impossible now that she passed away."
"That was no question yet," Jaime replies.
"Is it true?" Tyrion asks.
"It is," Jaime nods. That is nothing he has to hide in front of Tyrion, he believes.
"Interesting…," Tyrion grimaces. "And is that vow relevant to you, still? Or did it die along with her?"
"What is it to you?" Jaime asks defensively.
"I am just trying to figure out who is standing at what fronts," Tyrion shrugs.
"I am your brother," Jaime replies, now feeling offended.
"Of course, and I know that you and I stand on the same front in that regard, but you may have noticed that people are no longer belonging to one affiliation alone, but that many run with the hare and hunt with the hounds, and do so riding on a horse. People don't belong to their family alone anymore," Tyrion replies.
Jaime nods with a grimace. That is one of the problems they have: That too many clusters build up, in which plots arise like tendrils.
"Take the Tyrells as an example: They collaborated with Baratheons at first, but only those under Renly Baratheon, then with the Starks against the Lannisters and Stannis Baratheon, then they collaborate with Baratheon-slash-Lannisters and in that sense also with the Lannisters. And the Lannisters plot with and against anyone and anything. Even I have many cakes to choose to eat from, and I am still figuring out which ones aren't poisoned," Tyrion goes on to explain. Jaime bites the inside of his cheek.
He hates politics, he really does. Because he holds the family for something sacred, something where you should have absolute trust, but especially these days, even such a trust is ruptured and shaken by plots and intrigues.
"So the question is what animals you hunt and hunt with. Is it still just a lion or also a wolf, or something entirely else? I would just like to know, and you are one of the few people I can just ask because you are my brother and I trust you," Tyrion goes on.
"I don't hunt with wolves, but one wolf got a promise from me, and if I have a chance to, then yes, I will do my best to fulfil that promise to the wolf, but it is just this wolf, this dead wolf no less," Jaime mutters. "And how is it about you?"
"I am married to a wolf now, upon Father's request, so of course I support that particular wolf. And since she is the wolf cub of the same wolf you made promises to, I don't think it's farfetched to assume that your protection extends to her, something that I would honestly be quite glad about," Tyrion whispers.
"You mean to say that you fell in love with the wolf cub?" Jaime flashes a small smile, but it drops the moment he sees Tyrion tensing up, "She is a child who is forced to be wedded to a grotesque creature who is way too old for her, and way too much into whores and wine. I have no such feelings for my wife, but I put the cloak over her shoulders. I promised to protect her, to the best of my abilities. And I live by the Lannister rule: I always pay my debts. Her safety is the debt I owe to her."
"You are a good man, you know that, right?" Jaime asks. Tyrion lets out a resigned laughter, "I am no good man. I am a small man who is tossed around by those who have more to put into the game. That doesn't keep me from playing it, however. Anyone can get lucky once in a while. Just think back to us two pitching pennies when still children."
"Gods, I wanted to strangle you that you always ended up winning," Jaime grunts with a smile. Tyrion smiles back, "As I said, even the underdogs can get lucky, especially since the overdogs tend to underestimate them."
"So what do you think about the situation?" Jaime asks.
"I know better than to judge a situation at present. Ask me the same question in a year, and then I will give you an evaluation of what that situation objectively looked like. At this moment, I have too few angles to know what to make of all this here. For now, I just want to believe that I am right in my judgment that your traveling companion can be trusted," Tyrion goes on.
"You can," Jaime tells him resolutely.
"Well, that means there are now… three people, maybe four with Margaery Tyrell, who don't want the worst for my wife. That is astonishingly many," Tyrion huffs.
"Did the two talk about anything else?" Jaime asks.
"I just know that Lady Brienne was very emotional when she told Sansa about her oath to Catelyn Stark and how sorry she was for failing to protect her. It went that far that I had to duck for cover after all, as she brought up her food into one of the bushes," Tyrion makes a face. "Gladly, I wasn't hit."
Jaime grimaces. That would explain that.
"She took it really hard, with Catelyn Stark's death," he then says. "She only found out the day we arrived."
"Oh," Tyrion grimaces. "Well, that explains it, I suppose. So, I reckon that maybe she is still suffering from the aftermath. If you want to prove to be no complete arse, you may want to look after her."
"You could have mentioned it to me beforehand, so that I wouldn't appear like an arse?" Jaime snorts.
"Please, I get hell from my Lady all the while, it's about the greatest relief to see someone else getting a verbal flogging," Tyrion grins.
"She's not my Lady, you know that, right?" Jaime rolls his eyes as he gets up.
"You act like her Lord, though," Tyrion chuckles as he starts to walk away, folding his hands in his back. "If you get to call her names without an actual flogging."
Jaime mutters some curses to himself as his younger brother disappears.
He eventually decides to go to Brienne's room. Jaime knocks on the door, "Wench? It's me! The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard asks for an audience!"
"Get lost, Lord Commander," is the only reply he gets. He expected no less, now that he heard from Tyrion what happened the previous day.
"You were dearly missed during the breakfast," Jaime goes on with a small devilish grin. He knows it's mean, but for some reason he finds it really amusing how she tries to fight it till last.
"What part of 'get lost' didn't you understand?" she retorts. "The 'get' or the 'lost'?"
"I well heard you," Jaime argues. "I just choose not to comply."
"Go away," Brienne exhales. Jaime can almost hear the hand she now has to her forehead.
"You and I both know that I won't," Jaime replies.
"Go!" she curses.
"For what do you have door handles, huh?" Jaime shrugs, simply opening the door this time. He comes inside without further prelude to find her seated on her bed, looking almost ashen in complexion, a bucket by the bed… and pissed off.
"I guessed as much that you wouldn't be spared that part of pregnancy," he grimaces.
"Could you just… leave me to my humiliation? That'd be most kind of you. I don't need your mockery right now," Brienne grunts, swallowing another load of bile bubbling deep in her throat.
"I didn't mean it mockingly, though," Jaime assures her, now with an honestly sympathetic look. He sits down next to her, "And suffering from morning sickness is nothing to be ashamed of."
"I hugged a bucket the past three hours, that is about as shameful as it gets," Brienne growls.
And the worst is that he gets to flash his smug smile at her, looking like the fresh morning in person. Brienne doesn't like it to be seen when she has a weak moment. She can't bear the thought that people see her as someone who is weak and vulnerable. While she showed her, let's say, softer sides to Jaime by now, she doesn't want to appear weak. He is one of the few people she learned to respect - and she doesn't want the respect she thinks she earned the same way to disappear at the bottom of some stupid bucket.
And for her it's even worse to be brought to the limitations of her own body, brought to the realisation that her body is a cage holding her after all. Brienne wants to believe that her physical sex, her female body does not set the boundaries of her capabilities. Since early childhood, she tried to show people that she could do things others said were impossible for a girl. She wanted to throw axes and fight against grown men with swords, and win. Brienne always tries to push herself beyond her boundaries, to improve, to grow, to beat and silence whoever claimed that this was the line and that she wouldn't ever cross it by jumping across it after all. Yet, now it seems that she is even more limited, if she can't even keep her food to herself. And Brienne is afraid that the boundaries will close in on her. She is strong - and she wants to stay strong.
Being weak is for the pretty girls.
Ugly women don't have that luxury. They must be strong.
"Buckets don't get enough credit anyways," Jaime shrugs. "Many of them take all of our shit, literally."
"If the cub thinks that this makes me like it more, it's plainly mistaken," Brienne grumbles.
"I think the cub gives little on what you think of it," Jaime grimaces.
"Too true," she exhales.
"Can I get you anything?" he asks.
"Someone who bears the cub for me would be nice, though I reckon you can't help with that," Brienne grunts.
"No, I fear not," Jaime offers a small crooked smile. "But I can get the servants to bring some herbal tea. When Cersei had hers, it helped her a lot."
"Herbal tea doesn't mean wine by any chance to simply drink myself to sleep, does it?" she snorts sarcastically.
"Not really, but I assure you, it doesn't taste at all that awful," he argues.
"And you say so from experience?" she grimaces.
"I took a sip once and didn't choke on it," Jaime shrugs.
"That sounds truly tempting," she rolls her eyes, even though that only leaves her head spinning again.
This is pure frustration, mingled with disgust and exhaustion.
"Tyrion said that you talked to Sansa?" Jaime says after a moment of silence.
"Was that wrong?" she looks at him with wide eyes. "I thought it was alright…"
She though it would be fine to talk to her. Brienne bites her lower lip. She is really no good with negotiations and secrets. They just confuse her and send her head spiralling ever the more.
"It is, it is, no need to upset your stomach further, wench," Jaime assures her quickly. "Though I was irritated that you seemingly didn't notice that…"
"That he was hiding in a bush nearby where Sansa and I talked?" Brienne snorts. "Please."
She may suffer from morning sickness, but that doesn't mean Brienne forgets everything she trained over the years.
"You threw up in his direction," Jaime argues. Brienne looks at him with the smallest of smiles, "While I didn't plan on throwing up, I certainly aimed once it came to it."
"That is disgusting," Jaime shakes his head.
"Tell me about it. I have to bring it up, not you. And anyways, if he thinks he can just spy on me, he is plainly mistaken," Brienne retorts. Jaime can't help but laugh. That woman uses anything as a weapon, truly.
"But you can be sure that Tyrion can be trusted. He only stayed closeby to make sure that Sansa was alright. You are not the only one who is extremely careful for her sake," Jaime replies. "He talked to me to see if we were on his side, which is to say on the side supporting Sansa."
"That still doesn't mean I want him involved with this, just so that you know," Brienne warns him.
"Noted," he agrees.
"So? What are you going to do now?" Brienne asks after a while, swallowing thickly as she can feel the next wave of nausea hitting her.
"I thought I would play the good guy and get you some herbal tea to choke on," he shrugs, which only earns him a roll of her eyes, "I won't be good company today, if I ever am. And you surely have other responsibilities than having beverage arranged for me."
"I'm just looking after you, wench," he argues.
"And you don't have to. I got this," she replies.
Jaime grimaces. Right, he is not her Lord and she is not his Lady.
"You should be heading to see and guard the King," she tells him sternly. "You cannot slack off."
"As you said yourself, I'm hardly any use with just one hand," Jaime grunts, looking at his metal hand again. She nudges her elbow into his side, "Gods, stop acting like a goddamn woman. I won't encourage you and I won't tell you that you are not useless only so you feel better about yourself. The only way to stop being useless is to take action."
"Your speeches are always so utterly motivating, dear," Jaime huffs, though he can't help but smile. He honestly likes her bluntness at times. Things would oftentimes be far less complicated if people just said what they mean.
"If you expect me to motivate you when I just threw up my guts - and did ever since yesterday, I will hit you so hard that you won't answer your duties for three days straight," she says slowly, eyes closed to keep herself calm.
"I get it, I get it," Jaime asssures her. "You are right. Complaining doesn't help."
"That's right," Brienne agrees.
"Then I will have a servant sent to you, for the herbal tea," Jaime says as he gets up, his tone light but still determined. "And I will see after you once I am done with my service to the King. No arguing."
Brienne sets her jaw in a straight line, but then drops her shoulders, "Fine."
"Get some rest," he says before he exits. Brienne leans back on the bed, letting out a sigh. She leaves her palm on her stomach, "Let's make a deal. I will drink that tea - and for that you will spare me another hug with the bucket. How does that sound?"
Brienne closes her eyes, drifting off to light sleep.
Maybe it's alright to be a little weak, but only a little.
