They had spent weeks traveling south and then east; understandably Jaime had wanted to avoid Kings Landing. The Riverlands were not an option, much more tumultuous than the south, especially for a Lannister. There could be no complaints in regards to their accommodations as they travelled; they had plenty of food, a large comfortable tent, and other pleasantries that a Lannister was afforded during their trip. They had set out with a contingency of fifty men, all selected for their skill at arms. Jaime had not wanted to take any risks when he had learned of the harrowing travels Tyrion had endured.

When they camped in the evenings, Jaime and Brienne always found time to exercise their sword arms. He was insisting she hone her skills, especially for warfare combat. She couldn't argue with him. Her routine usually consisted of weakening her opponent through sheer exhaustion. This was a tactic more suited for a tournament, but would be dangerous and pointless on a battlefield. As much as she had admired and was thankful for the training of Ser Goodwin her Master at Arms, she had to admit that she was learning much from her new husband.

It was astonishing how skilled Jaime had become with his left hand. The speed and accuracy of his attacks were better than any man Brienne had ever fought against. He must have been a true terror with his right, Brienne thought with a mix of sadness and pride.

Their duels during their journey towards Tarth were quick but numerous, the goal to end the other as quickly as possible. It had taken days to abandon her old routine, and she lost many rounds in the beginning, but now with practice as she learned and applied the new tactics Jaime taught her, she had managed to best him nearly as much as he bested her. Although they never made a show of their duels, the clashing of their steel as they practiced never failed to draw in the spectators. Inevitably a soldier or two wanted to have a go at the 'large woman who played at swords', or the 'one-handed Lord'. When the mood struck, Brienne or Jaime would oblige them in turn. Neither she nor Jaime could be beaten.

One night cuddled beneath a blanket of furs, Brienne whispered to Jaime, "These are some of your best fighters?"

"Yes. My Lady, why do you ask?"

"I'm not sure to be impressed with ourselves, or to be full of woe for our own army."

Jaime had answered her with fits of laughter. Brienne furrowed her brow, failing to see the humour.

Brienne became more familiar with the land as they neared the eastern coast; she led them to a small fishing village that she was familiar with, securing a large fishing vessel they set sail for Tarth. Before leaving Jaime had managed to arrange an agreement with the fishermen for future catches. He requested that they salt and crate all that they could. The amount of gold he paid them was obscene, even the captain of the ship tried to refuse, but Jaime had insisted. His mind was always on obtaining supplies for the winter, and the war they were about to enter.

The boat rocked violently in the storm, Brienne was never more conscious of her size than when she was in the cramped cabin of a ship. Jaime had secured the captains quarters for them, humble and meagre as the little room was, at least it was warm and dry. She thought of the poor men up top, cold, shivering and wet. Their dinner was left untouched, and poor Jaime was heaving into the bucket again.

It would appear my lion does not fare well at sea... Jaime crawled back into the bed beside Brienne she rubbed his back and once she was sure he was settled, reached over him to throw the contents of the bucket out the window, she was grateful that the trip would be mercifully short. If the storm let up they might even make it by dawn.

The captain was a true sailor, and Brienne could sense they were close as she stood the ship's deck, her leather gloved hands gripping the railing. It was quiet and serene in the morning fog. The still waters that lay before her a stark contrast to the violent sea that had tossed their boat around during their evening travel. Her blue eyes searched for the coast of Tarth, she was eager to see the banks of the shore. The fog thinned just enough for her to recognize the familiar shape of her home. As they moved closer, the battlements and great drum tower were the first shapes she could spot of Evanfall Hall. She had for so long yearned for home, but knowing her father was gone made her return terribly bitter-sweet. She didn't realize she was crying until Jaime came up to join her, he wiped away her tears with the warm palm of his hand, and held her close. She bent her head into his shoulder and allowed herself a few more silent tears.

"I'd like to say it's as beautiful as I imagined, but I can barely see the blasted thing." Jaime joked.

Grateful for his mirth, Brienne let out a small laugh.

The fog had cleared some as they approached Evanfall Hall by foot, Lannister red banners flying in the wind. The drawbridge was raised and the gates closed, a guard from the battlements called down to ask their business. Brienne realized how they must have looked. A party of fifty was no match for any castle's walls, but an unexpected visit from an enemy house would not exactly be welcomed. Tarth was always isolated from most of the intrigues of the mainland and news reached its shores slowly.

Brienne stepped forward to identify herself, hopeful that the guards on duty would be ones she knew.

"It is Brienne!" She shouted up at the men.

There was no response. She waited a few minutes and looked to Jaime. He shrugged.

Thanks for the help husband.

She continued... "I am the Lady of this castle and I demand you lower the bridge! Open the gates!"

She waited another minute and when there was still no response she prepared to bark more orders, before she could yell out the clanking of the chains lowering the drawbridge stopped her. She was irked by their slow response, but did not want her return home to be spoiled by a sour mood.

She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. Soon she would be within the walls of her home after being away for so long; she could rest in her room, lie in her bed, and eat from her kitchens. The more she thought about the things she had missed the more anxious she was to enter. Once the drawbridge was lowered she and Jaime began to make their way across. The gates opened and she smiled, desperate to see who had come to greet her. Her smile quickly vanished as she recognized the figure moving towards her.

Hyle Hunt.