Author's Note: Thanks for sticking around!
A few days later, Jaime finds himself invited to a family dinner, to which Brienne and Sansa apparently weren't invited, just the Lannister clan – and Margaery Tyrell, of course.
To tell the truth, Jaime is a bit anxious, since his father didn't approach him about his request ever since he told him about it. And now he fears that maybe something doesn't go according to plan. Tyrion told him to keep a calm mind, but Jaime gets all of the nervousness from Brienne, who is constantly chewing on her lip and asking him again and again if he heard from Tywin.
"... Uncle Jaime," Joffrey's voice suddenly rings out, bringing the knight's mind back to the dinner. He looks at him, "Yes, my King?"
"Grandfather Tywin was so kind to inform me that you want to quit the Kingsguard," Joffrey says.
"Well, as you rightly pointed out to me, I am incapable of properly defending you, so I suppose it's time to give that honour into the hands of someone… who still has them both to protect you," Jaime tells him in a calm and polite tone, purposely keeping his voice light.
"Yeah, no," Joffrey grins. Jaime tries his best not to stare, but still, he does, "What?"
What does he mean with 'no'?
"I have made my decision and I want you to remain in the Kingsguard," Joffrey tells him.
Joffrey publicly pointed out that he is of no use as a Lord Commander, now with just one hand. And now he wants him to remain in the Kingsguard no matter what? What is going on here?
"How… comes?" Jaime asks slowly, the air knocked out of his lungs at once.
"Well, even if you're down a hand, you still got a lot of experience. And it's seasoned and experienced men we need to protect me. You can still give orders, right?" Joffrey shrugs. "And you're my Uncle after all, so maybe I've been a bit harsh. I mean, you can't help it that you now have only just one hand and are practically worthless."
"Well, I feel honoured that you consider me worthy of that position regardlessly, but I honestly think that…," Jaime means to say, but the young king interrupts him, "I honestly think that it doesn't matter what you think. I say 'no'. You'll remain in the Kingsguard. You should be happy that I am that generous to ignore your apparent uselessness."
"But maybe…," Tywin tries once more, but Joffrey won't have any of it, staring at him with ferally glowing eyes, "I have decided, so you can just forget about it, Grandfather. You might be Lord Hand, but I'm the King, and that means that my word overrules yours any time."
"Of course…," Tywin grimaces, seeing his sinks ship to the bottoms of the Narrow Sea, and deeper.
"Then how about we eat? I am starving," Joffrey declares gleefully. Jaime exchanges a glance with Tyrion, who looks just as shocked. At the other end of the table, Cersei sips her wine with a small smile.
Once dinner is over, Jaime immediately seeks out his father. He honestly thought he'd put up at least a bit of fight, after he was so eager for Jaime to take over Casterly Rock. That man fought in wars, he never held back a comment even in front of a King, but now Joffrey makes an order once and he chickens out?
"Father," Jaime mutters as they retreat to a corner where they are undisturbed.
"Well, that didn't go as planned," Tywin says, making his disappointment no secret. When he told Joffrey about the matter, the would-be King had said nothing much about it.
"What do you intend to do now?" Jaime asks.
"There is nothing much I can do now. I will talk to him in private another time, but that won't convince him, I fear," Tywin shrugs. "That child is a bullhead like I've never seen it before."
"But about… the child," Jaime argues.
"As I said, there is nothing much that I can do," Tywin replies nonchalantly.
"Nothing much you can do? You tried so many times to get me into that position, and now I'm agreeing to it – and you draw in your horns the very first occasion you get?" Jaime argues.
"I don't pick unnecessary fights, Jaime. This fight is unnecessary because I cannot win it. I would have fought if he had not made it rule, but once the King gives an order, it is an order," Tywin says. "There is nothing I can do about it to change that."
"But the child is mine – and it will be born," Jaime insists.
"And sadly, it won't be born a Lannister heir," Tywin then says, leaving Jaime speechless for a moment, his head swimming.
"And what are we supposed to say?" he then asks.
"We?" Tywin asks calmly. Jaime wants to punch the calm out of his face, with his metal hand if he had to.
"Well, Brienne bears it and it will come into the world. What are we supposed to say about its heritage, huh?" Jaime argues.
"That is no longer my concern," Tywin says simply.
"You can't be sincere," his son insists.
"I can't risk a scandal. If things had worked like we had them planned, the child would have been legitimate enough, but like that, this is no heir I can use in Casterly Rock. It would weaken us by shedding a bad light on the Lannister clan," Tywin says. "We have enough whispers about you and your sister… and the King."
"Weaken us… this is your grandchild you are talking about," Jaime growls.
"Not that I know for certain. Who knows if she didn't have another man beside you?" Tywin then asks nonchalantly. Jaime trembles in cold anger this time, "She did not."
"If it came to it that someone would ask me about the matter, that would always be my claim, and there is no way for her to prove the opposite. I don't want to disgrace her. I have no such interest, but if you call me upon it, I will deny this grandchild any given time," Tywin warns him.
"And you say that the family comes first," Jaime shakes his head, still not quite believing it.
"And it does, but that child, as it appears, does not belong to our clan," Tywin argues.
"I belong to the clan and it is mine," Jaime insists, gritting his teeth.
"I can only repeat that: You can't know for certain. Who knows? Maybe she wants to father a child on you. One can never tell," Tywin shrugs.
"She was a maiden," Jaime argues, his jaw a straight line.
"And she is hardly anymore," Tywin replies. Jaime's fists clench to the point that the veins stand out, "By the Gods! How can you be so full of spite that you do that to us?"
"I am protecting the family," Tywin tells him calmly.
"I don't feel protected," Jaime argues.
No, he feels betrayed, betrayed by his own father.
He feels angry.
He feels rage.
But no protection. Because Jaime knows what that feels like after he had Brienne protect him – and that is most certainly not it.
"That is because you don't understand, but sooner or later you will," Tywin says stoically.
"Yeah, well, at least it has this one advantage," Jaime then says, spitting the words out like venom.
"Which would be?" Tywin says, raising one eyebrow.
"You can take Casterly Rock and rot on it, because sure as the Seven Hells burn will I never take over," Jaime growls. "That's off the table forever."
"Jaime…," Tywin looks at him, seemingly actually upset in some way now, but his son won't let him finish, "The King's order. There's nothing I can do."
With that he walks away, stomping his feet.
He finds Tyrion not far away. He obviously waited for him to return to talk about the matter.
"Well, so much to that," Jaime spats, shooting angry glances over his shoulder to where he left his father.
"That means our plan is gone now," Tyrion grimaces.
"It is, completely," Jaime agrees.
"And Father?" Tyrion asks.
"Forget about him. He will deny it if I pushed on it, or so he said, which means that Casterly Rock is absolutely no option for us anymore," Jaime growls, his voice rumbling.
"Bastard," Tyrion curses.
"Just my thinking," Jaime exhales.
"Well, that means we have to come up with something new," Tyrion grimaces, scratching the back of his head. "That will take a bit, however."
"Time we don't have," Jaime snorts.
"We can't change it now. I will think of something. I suppose the only thing we can do at this point is to talk to Sansa and Brienne about the matter," Tyrion argues. Jaime curses to himself.
Right.
Brienne.
Not long ago and he had to tell her that her lady died. Now he has to play the delivery boy for bad news once more and tell her that their quite sound plan is now lowered into a grave before it ever came to life. And the familiar fear of loss is right back in his bones.
"Right," Jaime exhales. "I have no clue how to tell her, though."
"Just say the truth," Tyrion says. "That's the best you can do. This is not the end, though. We can surely find another way."
"Where does your optimism come from?" Jaime huffs.
"I am not optimistic by any means. I just know that there is more than one angle to approach a problem. This was one angle – and I believe there are more. I just need a bit more time to figure out which one is still an option for us," Tyrion says.
"I will see you in the morning, then," Jaime nods tightly.
"Yeah," Tyrion agrees.
"Good luck with Lady Sansa," Jaime calls over his shoulder as he starts to walk away.
"Good luck with Lady Brienne," Tyrion huffs. "You may want to take any sharp objects from her before you start, though."
"I will remember that," Jaime can't help a small sad smile.
He makes his way to Brienne's chamber. She sits on the bed, cleaning her weapons. Once she hears the door open, her sapphire eyes are instantly on him.
"Something happened," she says simply. Jaime is honestly still impressed by her eyes, they are sometimes even sharper than Valyrian steel.
"Yes," Jaime says as he comes closer. Brienne puts her weapons aside, studying him - and the nervousness that practically pours down his face.
"I will stay calm, so you can just say it," Brienne assures him. She prepared herself the best she could, and Brienne knows better than to be upset. She understands that her shock with shock the cub, too - and she vowed to protect it, even from her own feelings if it comes to it.
"Joffrey practically forbid me to go to Casterly Rock to become its Lord by binding me to the Kingsguard," Jaime says. "And Father had no way to convince him of the opposite."
"So… going to Casterly Rock is no longer an option," Brienne says, folding her hands under her chin.
"That well dried up all at once," Jaime nods, starting to pace.
"That means… we no longer have a plan," Brienne goes on.
"Not yet. Tyrion says he is already working on a new one, but it might take a bit of time. We'll see him and Sansa tomorrow to talk about the matter," Jaime tells her. "Well, at least that means you don't have to marry me."
"Great," she rolls her eyes. Jaime is unsure if there is a bit of disappointment in her voice, for that it's too heavy laden with sarcasm and worry over Sansa and the cub.
"I honestly thought that your Father would be more eager to make that happen," Brienne puckers her lips.
"I thought so, too, but that man, to the day, tends to surprise me with his malice," Jaime grumbles, letting a deep growl follow. Brienne studies him with a grimace, "Did he say anything?"
"Nothing you have to concern yourself with. He is a gutless, hypocritical, old bastard," Jaime replies, gritting his teeth towards the end.
"What did he say?" Brienne questions.
"As I said, nothing that you have to concern yourself with," Jaime replies.
"Jaime," she tries once more.
"It means nothing," he repeats.
"It means something if it makes you that upset," Brienne argues. Jaime looks at her sapphire blue eyes – and damns them at the same moment.
"He said that he wouldn't ever accept the cub as his grandchild now that the plan was disrupted. He said that he would claim on any given occasion that you laid with another man to make me believe that it was mine," Jaime admits at last, before he throws his hands up in exasperation. "And I could strangle the old bastard for it!"
Brienne nods slowly.
"As I said, just a bastard's words. Don't give a single fuck on any of this. We don't need him, and in the end, we are likely better off without him anyways. We never should have involved him," Jaime assures her, then gestures with his good hand. "So you get to tell me that you told me so."
"I thought it would work, too, so I don't get to tell you that," Brienne admits.
"I am sorry. I didn't ever mean to disgrace you in that way," Jaime apologises in all earnest.
"I don't feel disgraced. We did what we did, which means that the cub is illegitimate in that way. I just don't give much on that for as long as it's healthy," Brienne shrugs. Jaime can't help but stare at her this time, "How is it that you are not freaking out?! Because I feel like strangling some many people. And I am usually the calm one of us two!"
"Since when?" she snorts.
"Since ever," he replies.
Brienne shrugs her broad shoulders, "I could now lament and bitch about this plan not having been successful, but to what result would that be? It doesn't get us anywhere to think of the things that no longer work. We have to think about the next steps. You said it to me before. One step at a time, but not backwards but forwards."
"You are probably right," Jaime exhales, running his thumb and index finger over the corners of his mouth to smooth out some of the tension in his face.
"Of course I am. And anyways, I normally would be raging, but I don't think the cub would like it," Brienne tells him.
"I am glad to hear you say that," Jaime huffs.
"One of us has to act reasonably. While I don't make claims that it's always me, I suppose it would be wise if we took turns," Brienne shrugs.
"So I get to rage now?" Jaime frowns.
"Yes," Brienne shrugs.
"… For some reason I can't rage anymore," Jaime grunts – because, while he still feels betrayed, frustrated, and angry with his father, the anger just melts away just now.
"Maybe next time," she offers.
"Hopefully. I want to break things, or noses, or maybe both," Jaime grumbles.
"Maybe you should use your energy in the training arena," Brienne says as she swings her legs onto the bed and props up her back against the headrest.
"Please, that's for squires," Jaime snorts.
"Since you are so extraordinarily good with the sword even though you have to use your other hand," she rolls her eyes as she grabs a book from her nightstand.
She tries to get lost in what is familiar to her, bantering with him, and reading about things she understands. That is more of a comfort to her than pondering on the maybes. Normally, Brienne would be raging, she already said it, but now she has to think about the cub, and the cub can't have her raging for these things, can it? So Brienne tries her best to believe in Jaime's assurances and her own.
And in any case, if Brienne learned one thing through fighting as a sword, then it is that the worst you can do is to give up. If you lose your sword, you take the blow and pick it back up again. If the enemy strikes you in the head, you try your best to stand upright to escape to the side, and then charge again.
The important thing is that you stand up again.
That you never yield.
"That was mean of you to say," Jaime pouts.
"I am plainly pointing out the truth to you," Brienne tells him, unimpressed.
"This is nearly as frustrating as was the initial time with you, and by that time you had a damn leash on me," Jaime growls, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a small thud. Brienne shrugs as she opens the book, her eyes skimming over the letters, so he goes on, "Just as it is that you tend to ignore me."
"I let you rage. That doesn't mean I listen to you raging and bitching – or wallowing in self-pity for the matter. I told you time and time again that I am the last one you can expect pity from," Brienne says, her eyes still fixed on the last pages of the book.
"What are you reading – and don't say 'a book'," Jaime asks, trying to distract his mind from the crushed plans and hopes.
"The Fisherman and the Golden Marlin," Brienne replies. "I was fed up with the books about female physiology and parenting books."
"You seriously read those? For what do you have a healer now?" Jaime grimaces.
"One can never know what happens. So in case I come into a situation where I don't have a healer at hand, I would still like to know how not to die, and how to make sure that the cub stays unharmed, too," Brienne replies. "But now I can't read just a single more word about that stuff, so I chose something for leisure."
"Well, I don't read for leisure. I still hate reading for all it matters," Jaime huffs.
"This book is good, though," Brienne says. "And just because you don't like it doesn't mean I can't like it."
"At some point I didn't even think you were into books," Jaime makes a face.
"Books contain knowledge, and knowledge can come in handy in a fight," Brienne shrugs.
"Even if it's a fantastic story or so?" Jaime argues, slightly amused.
"If you don't want to share personal stories, it's good to have a tale at hand that you can tell instead," Brienne shrugs. "In the camp with Renly's knights, it was extremely helpful to bypass some odd or way too personal conversations."
Jaime grimaces. Brienne really mastered the arts of building an armour around herself. She even knows how to make stories an integral part of that invisible shield she uses for her protection.
"What's it about?" Jaime nods at the book.
"A fisherman and a marlin?" Brienne replies curtly.
"You don't say?" Jaime rolls his eyes. "C'mon, tell me a bit about it."
"You said you don't like to read, mere seconds ago," Brienne argues.
"And I have no intention to read it, but it's as you say. One should know stories. I don't know this one. Maybe I can use it later on, too? Who knows?" Jaime smirks.
And maybe hearing that tale will shield them from their uncertain future at least for tonight.
"Well, the gist is that a fisherman travels the sea, though a storm rages. Everyone tells him to stay at the port, but he doesn't listen, thinking that he will catch the biggest fishes if he goes now that no one else is there. However, the boat is too small for the tide and soon, it breaks apart and sinks. The man is swept away, out into the ocean, but somehow survives the storm. When he wakes up, the sea is silent again, but his boat is gone, so he prays to the Seven that they shall save him – after all, he was a good man and did no one ever harm, but they don't. Instead, a shark comes and bites off his leg after he wriggled in the water too much," Brienne explains, to which Jaime cries out, "That's awful!"
"That's what happens if you are stupid enough to lead your boat into such a storm. He's had any chance not to," Brienne shrugs, unimpressed. "So anyways, he swims in the water, bleeding, starting to die, so he prays to the Seven again, to save him – after all, he was a good man and did no one ever harm, but they don't. And so he finds himself on the verge of life and death, but then a ship appears, a pirate's ship."
"Arrr," Jaime growls like a pirate would, making Brienne roll her sapphire eyes as she goes on, "They take him onboard and tend to his wounds, though they can't save his lower leg."
"That sounds oddly familiar," Jaime makes a face, moving his metal hand a few times.
"While they saved his life, they don't mean him good. They consider him their new slave. The fisherman has to fear for his life all day long, all night through. However, he proves himself as a good bandit once it comes to it. While he had never done harm to another person, he knows the arts of persuasion. So he talks captains into deals or distracts them so the pirates can capture the ship and kill off the crew. He does that for a while," Brienne goes on, but then stops when Jaime leans back on her bed, his head now resting against her stomach. "What do you think are you doing?"
"I'm tired after all the trouble and your voice is oddly soothing. So please, go on," Jaime exhales.
"Are you sincere?" she stares at him, nudging him slightly, but Jaime stays in place, "Go on, c'mon now, wench."
Brienne contemplates for a long moment, puckering her lips, but eventually decides that if Jaime is in one of these childish moods, he is hard to snap out of, "Fine… where was I?"
"He distracts the captains to help the pirates for a while," Jaime replies, his eyes halfway closed.
"At some point one cannot tell him apart from the pirates anymore. He is one of them. After he proved himself to the crew, they let him in on their secret. They show him to one of the cabins where they hold hostage a girl from some exotic island they have travelled to before, and now hold her... for their own purposes," Brienne goes on.
"Seriously, this story is absolutely awful," Jaime makes a face.
"I find it pretty realistic," Brienne shrugs.
"Realistic? It's cruel," Jaime argues.
"Reality is often cruel. So anyways, their voyage continues and the fisherman goes by her cabin again and again. And he hears her sing, despite all the things that are done to her. She sings every day and every night, in a language he doesn't understand but that is still wonderful to the ear. However, misfortune strikes another time and the crew is caught in another storm, leaving them amidst the ocean, far away from any shore or any ship to capture. They run out of food. They run out of drink. One night, the fisherman overhears the men talking. They want to kill the girl," Brienne goes on.
"Please don't say to eat her," Jaime cries out.
"The fisherman doesn't stay long enough to hear the rest of their plan. He goes to her cabin again, and still, the girl sings. She sings and sings and sings. He opens the door and he yells at her that she should stop singing, that they will kill her, but the girl doesn't understand. And the fisherman asks himself what he is supposed to do. He can't fight them off, he knows, but he also feels like he can't let her die. At the same time, he doesn't want to die either. He has fought for it for so long. So he prays to the Seven again," Brienne says, and Jamie completes, his voice now almost humming, "After all, he was a good man and did no one ever harm, but they don't."
"They do," Brienne argues.
"How so?" Jaime frowns.
"Because he didn't bid for help for himself," Brienne replies.
"But for the girl," Jaime nods.
"Hm, so the Gods send a golden marlin," Brienne says.
"A golden marlin. And what does that thing do?" Jaime grimaces.
"The fisherman gets the girl aloft as the crew lays sleeping, after they got dead drunk on the last barrel of liquor. The golden marlin swims next to the ship so the girl can sit upon its back," Brienne says.
"You said the story was so realistic," Jaime argues.
"It was in the beginning, but stories tend to have a fantastic element at some point," Brienne shrugs. "So the fisherman sends the girl away on the marlin."
"And the crew decides to eat the fisherman instead of the girl," Jaime adds.
"In fact not. He decides to jump into the water to let the Gods decide over his fate," Brienne argues.
"So he drowns," Jaime hums.
"He drowns," she agrees.
"As I said, awful story," Jaime grunts.
"But that is when he suddenly hears that song again," Brienne goes on.
"The girl comes back," Jaime tilts his head, eyes completely closed now.
"The girl comes back – and she saves him from drowning. She pulls him back to the surface so he can suck in air again. And it is only in that instant that he understands that the Gods didn't save him before because he was only interested in his own gain. The marlin then takes them back to where she came from, to the island she was stolen from. And once they arrive, the fisherman vows to never hunt fish again, after the marlin saved her and him. At the same time, he promises to put others first, after he understood that this is the only way to win the Gods' favour. And so, in the end, the girl sings every day and night for him. And they live happily ever after…," Brienne says.
She glances at Jaime, who apparently dozed off. The blonde woman shakes her head. Usually, she would now nudge him in the side, but it's oddly peaceful, and peaceful is nice for a change when their plans were just disrupted, ripped to shreds.
Brienne cranes her neck as he turns slightly, the fingers of his good hand brushing against her stomach, like moth attracted to the light.
And it is during moments such as these that she can't help but wonder if it is her closeness he seeks, or only that of the child.
