Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thanks for sticking around despite the waves and storms stuffed with drama.
After the last chapters were exclusively from Jaime's viewpoint, we finally hear Brienne again! Yay!
I hope you'll like this chapter ;)
Brienne lies on her back, glancing at the ceiling, counting the knotholes in the wooden beams.
Though she knows there are fifty-two exactly.
Because there were fifty-two the first time she counted them.
And the second time.
And the fifty-second time.
What did her Father always say to her? To try the same thing again and again – and expect another result – is madness. He said so when Brienne was not yet in training and ended up being hurt all the time, and still challenged any boy for a duel who dared to call her names.
He always told her that it was madness, but Brienne didn't really care, because she said to herself that the day would come that another result would could about by changing the circumstance. And that is what she did. So she trained hard, harder, and harder, until the glorious day arrived at last that she beat her first aggressor. One of the boys who worked in the kitchen, for all she remembers, his face full of orange freckles, a crooked, wicked grin, ginger hair, and missing a front tooth.
After she was done with him, he missed two more.
However, this just now must be madness because Brienne has to realise that she finds herself in a situation where she can't change anything. No training will help her cause. Because her body won't serve as the weapon necessary to break herself out of here, to break out and away.
She can count the fifty-two knotholes again and again and it won't be fifty-one or fifty-three any time soon.
That is unless she drills a hole in the wood to change the number.
But that would be cheating.
But then again… isn't everything?
If only Brienne knew how to get out of here – to go search for Sansa, Pod, and Tyrion.
If they aren't already dead…
She turns to the side, biting back the tears that mean to escape her eyes at the mere thought.
But this is not the time to cry.
It's not the time for anything much but to wait for those beyond the door to make a move, so she can react thus. Until then, Brienne has nothing but her dignity, and she fears she will lose it if she allows the tears to come.
Because tears are for the pretty girls. They are lost on the ugly women. They only weaken the body and morale.
They already warned her that it will only be a matter of time until they will ship her back to King's Landing, for her to sink to her knees before the Iron Throne and beg for her life, and likely be denied.
It's only a matter of time, they said and sneered.
But Brienne has no clue how to prove her innocence, given that she'd be given a chance to make a try at it. As it seems, truth can be shaped by whoever gets his or her hands on it first.
And Brienne didn't grasp this reality until it was too late for her to forge it in another way.
She was simply presented with a lump now supposed to be reality, her reality.
So here she is, and there is nothing she can do.
She can only wait, count the knotholes, and hope for the fifty-third to arise out of thin air.
Yes, this is madness indeed.
Brienne is ripped out of her thoughts when there is a knock on the heavy wooden door. The tall woman straightens up on the meagre bed, putting on the most aloof expression she can manage, calling Renly's words to her mind in an endless mantra.
Don't let them see your tears.
They are just nasty little shit.
The nasty little shits are not worth crying over.
Be it the men out there, or those predators already waiting for her in King's Landing.
She won't be weak.
She won't budge.
She knows the truth, however much it is worth to the rest of the world.
"Brienne?"
She frowns. Through the heavy wood of the door, she can't make out the voice, but none of the investigators or locals calls her simply by her first name.
Brienne already means to say something, but that is when the door springs open at once, and she can do nothing but stare at the incarnate fifty-third knothole.
"Jaime?!"
He looks at Brienne with wide eyes.
There she is. Alive.
Her stomach grew to the point that there is no way of hiding it anymore. Not that the rough, worn dress they seemingly forced her into does anything much to conceal. At least it's not pink. Her hair is unkempt, she has healing scratches on her left cheek and a larger healing wound on the right side of her forehead.
Does that mean the cub is still there? But Jaime remembers that Cersei's stomach didn't flatten out for months after her pregnancies…
"What are you doing here?" Brienne stares at him, as though he was a ghost.
Because that is what he is, what this must be. A ghost story.
It's madness.
"Getting you out of here, as it seems," he replies, looking around nervously.
"They said that I am to face tribunal," Brienne breathes.
"Yeah, and the men who are supposed to take you are… indisposed, for now," Jaime grimaces.
It was tough enough to knock out the three investigators. Jaime had to wait till night rose – and he got them one by one, or else he would have lost the fights for sure. Not to mention the guards roaming around the place where they held Brienne. If not for them not expecting a hooded man to sneak up to them in the midst of the night, Jaime would have stood no chance against them. For that, he is still too useless with his left, and the stump of his right arm likewise.
"I didn't do it," Brienne says, needing to say it.
"I know, which is why we have to go, now, before they realize what's going on," Jaime urges her.
"But…," she means to object, but he is quick enough to interrupt her, "Brienne, please, now is not the time. You either come with me now, or they will have you executed in King's Landing. We have to get you out of here right now."
Brienne gets to her feet, giving a small nod. Jaime lets a silent sigh of relief as he turns back around to check the hallway.
"It's clear, c'mon," he mutters, pulling Brienne along by her wrist, which she allows wordlessly. And Jaime wouldn't ever daresay out loud just how reassuring her pulse is against his fingertips.
They swarm through the hallway of the building, but Brienne stops suddenly. Jaime pedals backwards, holding back the curse on his lips.
"We have to hurry," he urges her.
"We can't go without it," she insists. Jaime frowns as Brienne pulls him back to one of the doors along the way. She tests the lock once before thrusting her shoulder against it mightily. Jaime yelps, but the door budges at once. They don't have wood strong enough for the Lady of Tarth, as it appears. Jaime frowns at congeries of clubber and a few shiny things. Probably the 'treasury', or rather, the place where they put all the things they bunker from shipwrecks and the like. But he recognises one object straight away.
"Really?" he makes a face.
"Really," she replies simply. Jaime knows better than to object, so he grabs the larger piece under his arm while she grabs the other – and then they make their way ahead again – because that is the only direction that matters now.
"Where do we go?" she asks.
"We will head into the woods once we get there," Jaime says. "I already set up a boat that now roams further down the bay, with a torch to get their suspicion – and attention. That should give us some time ahead."
Brienne tilts her head.
They seemingly think alike after all…
"But what about the investigators? And the tribunal?" she questions.
"They won't be going anywhere any time soon. Their boats are all damaged now. One should never leave one's hammer unattended – and all ravens have mysteriously disappeared, like the horses. By the time anyone in King's Landing gets the news, we are long since hidden in the Kingswood," Jaime replies. "And since the boats are damaged, they'll believe that we are on the sea, too, well, hopefully."
Brienne nods wordlessly as they walk outside. Jaime looks around anxiously, but gladly, the whole town seems to be lost in deep slumber. He leads Brienne to the spot where he brought one of the horses to and puts the package Brienne insisted to take along on its back as silently as he can.
"C'mon."
And so they walk into the darkness of the night, neither one saying a word.
Only later they can hear people yelling in the distance, about getting the ships fixed to search for the prisoner. They yell for the boats, the ravens, the horses.
Jaime can feel the rush of fear and nervousness leaving him, being swept out of him with every step they make forward into the darkness, closer to the woods. And the more the rush leaves, the more thoughts wash back into his mind, questions.
"Brienne?" he asks at last.
"Yes?" she looks at him.
"… Do you still have the cub? Back in King's Landing they said that maybe you didn't…," he whispers, not looking at her this time.
Brienne blinks, frowning to herself, noting the edge of terror in his voice.
Though it shouldn't come as a surprise.
"I still have it," she mutters. Jaime nods slowly, letting the words seep through his skin, letting the words soothe his aches.
The night does well to hide his tears, though it doesn't muffle his heavier breathing as the tears come and fall on dry soil. Brienne walks next to him silently, choosing not to call him upon it.
Because she gets it.
She knows his love for the cub as unconditional, so the fear that it may no longer be in this world may do that to someone like him, too.
Brienne knows that pain, she knows it now, and she doesn't wish that on anyone, not even on Jaime.
They eventually reach a place that looks safe enough to make camp for a few hours. Once they are settled, Brienne draws her knees up as far as she can with the growing stomach to lean her chin on her long limbs.
"Tell me, what happened on the ship?" Jaime asks at last. Brienne looks at him for a moment, knowing that this will likely be the only time that she will get to tell this fearful tale – and have someone believe her words.
"Everything was going according to plan. We made good progress on the sea. The wind was in our favour, everything was alright… but then, one night… I heard noises all of a sudden, and the torches went on. People started cursing… I sneaked out of my room to see what was going on. As I was on my way… I suddenly heard Sansa screaming…," she says, closing her eyes as she calls the images back to her mind:
Brienne whips her head around to the source of the noises, and the one noise she can't bear to hear.
"Sansa," she breathes, hurrying over to her cabin the fastest she can, but that is when Brienne sees two bulky men with brown and black hair pulling Tyrion behind him by the collar of his tunic. The small man thrashes, struggling against their grips. Brienne hides behind one of the corners. She waits until they are past her before she jumps out, her eyes meeting Tyrion's once, before she stabs both men from behind.
They fall to the ground like bags of flour.
"What is going on here?" she demands.
"I don't know, but we must get to Sansa," Tyrion says, not knowing what else to reply. One moment, he was fast asleep, the next, someone ripped him out of bed by the thatch of his hair and held a dagger to his throat. And here he thought that the worst that could happen would be to be seasick throughout the stay.
Brienne nods curtly and the two start to hurry to Sansa's cabin. The tall woman stops a moment and pulls up her tunic to reach beneath her dress. Tyrion frowns, but then sees that she produces a dagger out of a holster she has around her thigh. At some point he shouldn't be surprised that this woman seemingly even sleeps soundly only if she lies next to and upon protective steel.
She thrusts the dagger into his hands, "You should have something to guard yourself with."
Tyrion nods. He may not be well with weapons, but he will take anything that means a bit of protection.
"What about your squire?" Brienne asks, but Tyrion can only shrug. He doesn't know what happened to Pod. He just prays that the boy is alive. For that he holds him too dear after all. Brienne grimaces as they go on. She can't say that she knows the squire well, but she understood it that he was under her protection, too.
They find Sansa's cabin empty once they get there, so Tyrion suggests silently, "To the deck."
Brienne nods tightly before the two hurry outside – only to see Sansa being pulled by a band of men to one of the lifeboats.
"Let her go!" Brienne growls as she runs forward, swinging her sword, struggling against whatever man dares to come close to her.
"Brienne!" Sansa cries out, eyes wide. The man holding her tightens his grip on her, making the girl shriek.
"Don't you dare hurt her!" Brienne cries out, but that is when suddenly one of them has a dagger to Sansa's throat.
"Stop that!" Brienne barks, gritting her teeth.
"Step back and drop the sword," the man snarls, tightening his grip on Sansa, who can do nothing but stare at the other woman, fighting for composure.
"Fine! Fine! Just don't hurt her," Brienne says, knowing that she can't overpower these men singlehandedly.
"Drop the sword and slide it over to here," the man demands. Brienne does as she is told, not wanting to endanger Sansa, who stares at her with wide eyes, breathing hard.
However, that is when Tyrion makes an attempt to use his abilities, "If it's money that you want, I can get you a lot. A whole lot. I am a Lannister and a Lannister always pays…"
He gets a kick into the midsection, sending Tyrion to the ground with a thud.
"Tyrion!" the two women shriek.
"Leave him alone!" Brienne growls.
"The Imp is supposed to shut up," the man says, kicking the dwarf again. Tyrion barks, head biting into the wood of the deck's floor.
"What do you want with us?" Sansa asks, her voice trembling.
"We are supposed to get you and the Imp," the man holding her replies. "Which is what we'll do now."
Sansa lets out a shudder. And here she thought Tarth would be the next step in her life.
Brienne sets her jaw in a straight line, "And what do you intend to do with me? I may warn you that I'm not as easy to move."
"Oh, you won't be coming along," the man holding Sansa says. Brienne blinks, already meaning to lunge forward, but that is when another man emerges out of the shadows of the night and rams the handle of his sword against her stomach, taking Brienne's air away.
She can hear Sansa cry her name as she goes to her knees.
"Brienne! No!"
Brienne's head swims as she sees Sansa and Tyrion being pulled over the railing, into the lifeboats… and away.
"Sansa! Tyrion!"
But then the man delivers a final blow to her head, sending her to darkness.
"I would have fought them all, but they were too many," Brienne says, her mouth buried in the fabric of her sleeve as she goes on to tell her story.
She would have killed them all, she will kill them all, but back then, she couldn't beat them.
"That is not your fault," Jaime assures her quickly, his face a sad grimace.
"They just took her, and your brother… and the squire, too, for all I know, if they didn't kill him at once. I couldn't protect them at all," Brienne shakes her head, looking miserable.
She failed to protect, yet again.
She seemingly can't protect anyone or anything.
"It's alright," Jaime reassures her once more. "But what happened after that?"
"When I came back around, I tried anything within my powers to escape, obviously…"
Brienne hisses when she opens her eyes, followed by a sharp intake of air as pain explodes in her body. Her hand is instantly on her stomach, fingers trembling to the point that her joints ache. Brienne tries her best to calm herself, controls her breathing to the best of her abilities. She looks down at her body… no blood.
Brienne sends a silent prayer to the Seven for seemingly protecting the cub, but then her mind kicks back into action.
She has to get out of here.
Brienne looks around, noting with a small smile that she is only bound by the wrists and feet, but they didn't care to bind her wrists in the back, seemingly believing her to be no more than a foolish woman wielding a sword.
Fools.
Brienne kicks off her boot, a small knife falling out.
Really, fools.
She picks it up and starts to cut the ropes biting into her wrists. At last, they come off and Brienne gets to her feet at once, though her head swims for a moment. The blow to the head surely was harder than she had hoped. Brienne makes her way to the small window. There is land in sight. Brienne contemplates. She cannot fend off so many men alone, even if only a few stayed on the ship. She has no weapons other than the small dagger, and the danger is more than real that someone will do harm to the cub. As much as she hates it, she cannot fight them all.
She has to retreat.
For now.
Brienne licks her lips, but then makes her way to the old wooden door and starts to work on the hinges with her small dagger. Once she is done, she positions herself squarely in front of the door and calls out, "Hey! Hey! I need help here! I am bleeding! I am with child and bleeding! Please! I need help! Help! Help!"
Brienne grimaces – this came out more believingly than she had feared.
After all, she is still no good lying.
Well, to other people at least.
She can hear someone grunting and keys being taken out, "Gods, women, pregnant women no less! We should have just thrown her overboard."
The key is pushed into the lock. The man tries to open the door, but it won't open the right way.
"What…?"
Brienne jumps against the door with a feral growl at once, burying the man underneath it as the door comes out of its hinges, crashing down on the bulky fellow now buried beneath wood.
Another man approaches, but Brienne is fast enough to push the door away from the man to grab his dagger to charge the other. Gladly, the man is too surprised – and seemingly not very proficient with the sword, at least not enough to match her, so she can take him out despite her staggering walk and mind – and only a dagger in hands.
The tall woman disarms them before she pulls them into her cabin. She looks around, spotting the bundle she has been looking at in a long time, contemplating, but then deciding that she needs to take it along, or at least give it one chance to return to her. So she shoulders it with the strap around it, before exiting the room and putting the door back in place silently.
She sneaks down the corridors of the ship, but has to hide in the room with the maps once two approach. Brienne looks around, glancing out the small window. She can still see the land in the distance. That is her only shot, that's for sure. Brienne sees a candle still burning on the table.
That might work.
She pushes it over, the parchments easily catching fire. Brienne exits, grabbing a lantern as she goes, and makes her way to the deck. She hurries over to the one lifeboat still there, puts the bundle and the lantern in it, hoping that it will drift away fast, but not too far before she lets it out into the waters.
She can hear the men approaching and howling, seemingly having found out about her disappearance, so she hurries to the back of the ship, into the shadows. The men enter the deck.
"Find the bitch! She's supposed to land in Tarth!"
"Shit! She took the last lifeboat!"
"Over there! Over there!"
"We have to turn the ship and get her!"
"Then get on with it!"
"FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!"
"HELP!"
Brienne climbs atop the railing – and jumps off into the black waters, the night swallowing her sounds, herself.
And the fire consumes the rest.
Jaime still stares as he hears Brienne's words.
"How did you make it to the shore?" he can't help but ask. On a lifeboat, no problem, but she swam all the way to the settlement? While pregnant?
Brienne shrugs at him simply, "I grew up on an island. I could swim fifteen miles without taking a break since my ninth namesday."
"One should never underestimate you," Jaime can't help but say.
"No," she breathes.
Though one shouldn't overestimate her either, for she failed, failed miserably at what really matters – protection. Brienne only showed her skill to run, and that is nothing she prides herself with.
"Then what happened once you made it to the settlement?" Jaime asks, licking his lips.
"Well, with the cub, things weren't as easy as they were when I was at the age of nine… I collapsed by the shore. A fisherman found me and brought me to the local healer. I had started bleeding after all, but…," she says, puckering her lips. Brienne can hear the sharp intake of air from Jaime, so she goes on quickly "But the cub was alright, or so the healer told me once I woke up again. I asked them to send a message to King's Landing, to inform them about what happened… I think they did that, actually… A little while later, they found the lifeboat and took what was in it to their vault."
She looks up to the night's sky. If Brienne didn't know what terror is up to this point, it was the moment she felt crimson between her thighs and didn't know what would be with the small thing growning under her chest that she understood, truly understood what 'terror' meant. After all, she vowed its protection, and she meant it, meant it, because Brienne loves this thing whose face she doesn't know, like her mother's. Even though she doens't see herself as a good mother by any means does she love this thing bringing her so much pain. Brienne can still recall how she screamed, screamed at whoever it was that she was with child and needed help. She didn't care if she sounded like a pathetic madwoman, the Seven, she didn't even care if she was a madwoman by any chance. She just went on shrieking until the healer, the Seven may bless her for all days, told her that the child was alright, that it would live. Brienne won't ever forget the feeling of relief, fear, terror, and happiness as it mixed with her tears she didn't care to hide in front of the seasoned woman.
If that is what Jaime felt like only a bit over her departure to Tarth, she starts to get his desperation. Brienne never thought she could feel so much fear. She fought a bear with a wooden sword, but she would have fought ten bears with bare hands instead of going through this terror.
For it tears any sane thought away.
"I wanted to fetch a ship to Tarth… or even King's Landing, just away from there, but I needed to recover and… before I got a chance to, a raven arrived and informed everyone about the King's demise and they seemingly assumed that I was telling them lies about Tyrion and Sansa… or worse, assumed that I have to do with Joffrey's murder," Brienne goes on. "So they decided to keep me there and ask the Iron Throne for guidance."
Jaime nods wordlessly.
"The healer insisted that I wasn't taken to one of the prison cells because of the cub, but that was all she could do for me. They still set up all guards they had, you saw it… well, they wanted to get me to King's Landing the first chance they got, probably thinking they'd get a nice reward for delivering me to the Iron Throne, but then they got the mail that a band of investigators would be sent here…," Brienne licks her lips. "They arrived later on… and they only asked about the ship and why it had burned down, why I burned it… they seemingly assumed that I was trying to hide evidence or so… they kept asking me the same questions, only to get the same answers. I didn't know what I was supposed to tell them other than the story I told you, which is the truth. But they didn't believe me. At some point they stopped asking questions and just waited for the next orders… and then… you arrived."
"Gods," Jaime bites his lower lip.
"I thought it would be safe for her to come with me, and now even Tyrion… and Podrick," Brienne sighs, her voice full of pain.
"Brienne, that was not your doing. Someone tricked us all," Jaime assures her.
"I know that I didn't do it, but… but this is the consequence now," Brienne insists. "This is reality now. All of it is."
"Yeah," he agrees solemnly.
"I have to find them," she grits her teeth.
"Don't you mean 'we'?" he grimaces. Brienne's shoulders tense at once, "I don't speak for you. You are free to do whatever you want."
"Brienne," he exhales, but she doesn't let him speak any further, "You freed me, for which I'm thankful, but don't you dare believe that I am one of the dumb geese who wait for a knight to come and save them from imprisonment in a tower."
After all, they don't live in fairy tales.
"I didn't mean it like that," Jaime argues, his voice meek.
"If you want to come along, you are free to do so, but if you want to return to King's Landing, then you are free to do that the same way," Brienne says stubbornly.
Though Jaime fully expected that.
"You can't do it all alone," he replies.
"If I always stuck to what other people said that I am capable of, I would still sit in Tarth, wearing a gown to make me look even more grotesque, and wait to be married off by my Father," Brienne retorts.
Brienne is used to beating expectations, stomping on them.
"I know," he sighs.
"So?" she looks at him.
"I ask you to let me fulfil my oaths," Jaime says with more determination now.
"That's cheap," she huffs.
"For as long as it works, I don't really care," Jaime shrugs.
He just has to be around her, easy as that, even if the only way there is by trick.
After all, that is one of the few things he is truly good at.
"What about the Kingsguard?" she asks.
"I left," he shrugs. "The Tyrells helped me escape."
"The Tyrells?" Brienne puckers her lips.
"Yes, even Loras, believe it or not," Jaime offers a crooked grin.
"I thought he hated me," Brienne wrinkles her nose.
"I don't think he likes you, but he seems to be a bit of a knight after all. And Margaery was steadfast in her support for you," Jaime tells her, if only to soothe some of the pain she must be experiencing. Brienne had no one to have her back, for all she knew, but Jaime wants her to see that she had support, even if she didn't know about it.
"I would have come earlier, had I known," he says.
"Why didn't you?" she can't help but ask, and it pains them both.
"I had made arrangements to spare you tribunal. My Father was supposed to handle the business. For your safety, I promised him to go to Casterly Rock as its Lord and marry the woman of his choice," Jaime replies.
Brienne looks at him.
He would have given up on the Kingsguard and become a Lord to wed whoever… to know her safe?
Or well, probably to know the cub safe after all…
"But then he died," Jaime goes on solemnly.
"What? He is dead?" she gapes at him.
"Yes, dropped dead on the shithouse," Jaime huffs with sad sarcasm dying on his lips.
Brienne blinks. She thought that man would only die in war – or by someone stabbing him when he least expected it.
"Well, and with him died any chance for me to make my lordship worth a bargain. Because that is nothing Cersei would want... Cersei now holds power, being Queen Mother and Tommen still being too young of age to rule properly, so she wanted to repeat the same she did before and leave me in the Kingsguard… And Cersei believes that you have to do with Joffrey's murder, so she wanted you to face tribunal in King's Landing to find you guilty and have you gone," Jaime admits.
Brienne nods slowly.
"The Tyrells helped me out to get on Lady Olenna's ship. I posed as one of her men. She is on the way to Tarth, to talk to your Father, upon Cersei's order. We've made arrangements that Cersei wouldn't know me gone straight away, and we took care of the ravens to buy a bit more time for me to get here," Jaime goes on. "And it seemingly worked… already due to the fact that news didn't reach you about my Father's demise."
"… I won't ever go there again, will I?" Brienne licks her lips, her voice trembling slightly. "To Tarth."
Because she really wanted to go home, tell her Father about the troublesome but still to him wonderful news of an heir for him at last.
And now she won't ever see the sapphires of the sea again.
She won't ever see him again.
"Not until your name is cleared," Jaime agrees with a sad grimace.
"So never," Brienne sighs.
"Your name will be cleared, maybe not in this life, but it will be cleared," Jaime says.
He may never wash himself free of the name of Kingslayer written upon his forehead, but he shall be damned if she gets the same mark on her skin.
"Don't make promises you can't keep," she argues weakly.
"I don't say that I will manage, but someone will. The truth will come to light eventually, I'm sure of it," Jaime says. "But I am sorry that you can't go to see your home and your Father any time soon. Lady Olenna will tell him the truth, though. And I think he will be under her protection, too. The good thing is that he was not involved into anything, so they can't prove him much. He doesn't know where you are because you didn't make it there. So Cersei can't do much to him."
It's a meagre comfort at best, but Brienne nods, seemingly blowing it up to a bigger flame than Jaime believes it to be.
He will be safe.
Brienne shakes her head. At last she seemingly managed some kind of protection.
"Then where do we go from here, since that means we are both outlaws now?" Brienne asks.
"Well, we will have to keep it low for a while, not only because they will be chasing us, but also because of the cub," Jaime tells her.
"But we have to find Sansa," Brienne insists.
She promised her.
"At this point we won't manage much. We have to find Littlefinger," Jaime says.
"Baelish?" Brienne blinks at him. "What would we want with this man?"
"Lady Olenna implied that Littlefinger had to do with Joff's murder. Given the circumstances, I don't think it unlikely that he took Sansa… and then made you the culprit to push the evidence away from him," Jaime replies.
"How did she know?" Brienne asks, her voice trembling with a mixture of unshed tears and fury.
"I reckon she and Littlefinger both wanted Joff dead. She likely wanted to spare Margaery being married to Joffrey… though she didn't foresee this, for all I know, for all she's said, or implied… And I take her word for true this time," Jaime says.
"Why?" Brienne asks.
"She didn't have to help us, and still she did. She has no gain from this, only risk," Jaime shrugs."All of them took a risk to get me here to you. I don't think they would have done that if they meant you harm. It seems more likely that they wanted to blame someone else, and Baelish played them by making you the culprit, given that he is the one behind this."
Brienne nods slowly, processing the information.
"Why didn't you kill her for… for Joffrey and… the rest?" Brienne asks.
"I told you once, I don't care for revenge. At some point I even understand that she wanted to keep Margaery safe from Joff. That boy was beyond the realm of control. And was I supposed to kill the one woman willing to help me to get to you?" Jaime shrugs. "I let it go. She does redemption now, I think… and I dare to believe in redemption after all."
However foolish that may be in face of his crimes that are seemingly truly past forgiveness.
"So… you don't want revenge on Littlefinger either?" Brienne asks. "If you don't care about revenge?"
"Oh, that man will suffer, a lot, and long, and painfully, I'll make sure of that," Jaime growls. "But we have to think about your safety now. They will come looking for us. And in your current state, you won't manage to ride a horse fast, or at all, just like you won't manage to walk endlessly. I don't know where Littlefinger's headed to. Though I reckon that the Vale is the next-best option, because he was supposed to wed Lysa for all I know. But that way is far."
"But if we wait, then…," Brienne objects, but Jaime shakes his head, "You know that I am right, as painful as it is. You have to put your safety first now, Brienne. Littlefinger wants Sansa alive, if he has her. That means she is safer than you and I at this point."
Brienne bites her lower lip.
"We will move in the direction the furthest we can, but we have to keep it low," Jaime says.
"But why do we seek the Kingswood? Shouldn't we fetch a ship the other way, up North?" Brienne asks.
"We'd have to take a ship by force or sneak our way in, but people know who we are around here. We are too close to King's Landing at this point. And at the sea, we have no way to escape. Here, we can hide if necessary. We will move westward past King's Landing, and then to the Vale. That seems to be the safest option at this point. The further we get up North, the better. Because people won't know us there – and the people of the North care little about what is going on here in King's Landing," Jaime replies.
"So we are on the run," Brienne grimaces.
"They will chase us. There will likely be a bounty on both our heads. It's dangerous for us here because we are still too close to King's Landing's clutches. I hope that changes once we travel up to the Vale, but until then… we have to repeat our story for a while, yes," Jaime agrees solemnly.
"You mean to secretly sneak through the woods again," she huffs. "Off the usual paths."
"Exactly," Jaime agrees.
Brienne tries hard not to laugh.
This is madness, isn't it?
They repeat the process.
Back to the beginning.
Just that she is now pregnant, and they are both haunted.
Is that the fifty-fourth knothole?
Or is it, by any chance, a chance indeed, for circumstances are changed now?
Because it isn't exactly the same tale that it was in the beginning, with a cub growing under her heart and them in shatters of the former days?
"I'm sorry, for all of it."
Brienne says nothing to that, just looks up to the stars, trying to count them to have them fixed inside her head. Because whenever she sees the stars, she comes to a different number, some obscured by clouds, some exposed only a night and then never again.
Stars are perhaps the only knotholes that hold hope these days, however meagre this hope may be.
"I'm sorry for both your losses."
"We will find Sansa."
"Yes, we will."
Both look up to the stars in silence, counting the possibilities, getting lost in their now shared madness.