Chapter Twenty-two

Jaime just stood there, staring after Brienne, fighting the urge to go after her. She was furiously angry, and he knew that nothing he said or did would appease her at that moment. If he followed her, he was likely to get a broken nose, or worse. She had told him that she didn't want to hear his excuses, but he hated leaving her in such a tumultuous state. If only he'd been able to explain himself instead of stammering like a fool, he might have quelled her fury before it had even ignited.

"She's not quite what I expected," said a sultry voice behind him, "but then, there's really no accounting for taste."

Every muscle in Jaime's body tightened. He hadn't realized that they'd had an audience, and he hated himself for allowing a stranger to spy on such a private moment. He hated Tyrion too, for orchestrating the whole damned thing, but that was another matter entirely.

Jaime slowly turned around, finally facing the woman standing in the doorway. She looked mildly amused, and he didn't appreciate it in the least.

"Don't worry so much," she said, pushing herself away from the door and taking a step forward. "A little bit of jealousy never hurt anyone."

"I didn't do this to make her jealous."

The girl tilted her head to the side, eyeing Jaime skeptically. "Really now?"

"Yes, really. The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt Brienne, but no matter how hard I try to make things better, I only seem to make everything worse."

"Ah, so the Lord Hand was right. You do have it bad, don't you?"

"Fuck the Lord Hand."

The girl giggled. "I would if I could. I've heard he had quite the reputation back in the day. The stories some of the girls tell . . ." She sighed wistfully.

Jaime rolled his eyes heavenward. "I think I've had enough for one day. You may go now."

"Oh, but I haven't given you the full hour."

Jaime raised a brow at that. The girl was a whore from one of the local brothels. He was surprised that she wasn't just happy to take the money Tyrion had given her and be on her way. "You've done your job," Jaime said. "You may go, and you need not return."

"But I didn't even show you the best part."

Jaime narrowed his eyes on her, annoyed by her reluctance to leave. He understood that what had been asked of her had been unusual, and that women generally found him charming, but he was still baffled by her desire to spend out the hour with him.

"If you want to stay in my chamber until the hour is up, you may," he said, "but I will not be staying with you." And then, before she could say another word, he turned around and went in search of his brother, intent on giving him a piece of his mind.

Jaime found Tyrion in what was left of the royal gardens, standing beside one of the walls overlooking Blackwater Bay. Tyrion was often eager to escape the halls of the Red Keep and brood in the fresh, open air. He'd grown moody in his old age, no doubt a result of living like a septon and pining after a woman he could never have.

As Jaime approached, Tyrion turned to look up at him. "How did your dance lesson go?"

Jaime skewered Tyrion with his eyes. "Fuck you."

"Oh, that well?" Tyrion chuckled. "I'm sorry. Maybe I should have sent a brunette this time. I know how blondes rankle you."

Jaime reached the wall, stopping beside his brother and staring out at the choppy waters crashing against the shore. "Brienne came to my chamber while the girl was still there."

"Did she really?"

"Yes. And of course she thought the worst, because why shouldn't she?"

"And did you explain things to her?"

"She didn't give me a chance."

Tyrion laughed again. "What is it about Brienne of Tarth that so often renders you tongue-tied, brother? Away from her, you're one of the most accomplished, capable knights in all the king's forces. But when you're around Brienne, you're a blithering fool. Especially when you feel guilty for something."

Jaime cast a sidelong glance at Tyrion. "I don't feel guilty. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I just didn't expect Brienne to find us like that, and by the time I recovered from the shock, it was too late for me to explain."

"You've always been an idiot when it comes to love, haven't you?"

"You're one to talk."

"I didn't say I wasn't just as guilty. I was simply stating a fact."

Jaime sighed, resting his forearms on top of the wall and leaning down against it. "I've hurt her again."

"I'm sure you have."

"What am I going to do?"

"Find her and make it right?"

Jaime shook his head. "She'll run her sword right through me. I know she will."

"Well, that's just the chance you're going to have to take, isn't it?"

"You think I'm joking."

"I know you're not joking," Tyrion replied, his voice deathly serious. "But the longer you let her go on believing that you betrayed her, the worse things are going to get. Wherever she is now, you need to hunt her down and make her listen to the truth. You shouldn't be wasting your time talking to me. You should be talking to Brienne."

Although Jaime couldn't argue with Tyrion's reasoning, he was afraid that there was nothing he could say that would pacify Brienne. He was fairly certain that if she even laid eyes on him again, it would be the last time he drew breath.

"You know," Tyrion said thoughtfully, "if you're really concerned about her running you through with her sword, you could always challenge her to single combat in the training yard."

Jaime's heart froze, and he turned to stare down at Tyrion in disbelief. "Are you mad? Even with my right hand still intact, she was a better swordsman than I ever was. She'll literally cut me in two."

"Maybe. But don't you think it's worth the risk? Do you want Brienne to listen to you or not?"

"Of course I do, but—"

"And do you want her to respect you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then what other choice do you have? Go," Tyrion said. "Find her. Offer to let her take out her frustrations on you in the yard. If you survive, you'll be that much closer to winning her back."

"And why should I listen to you?" Jaime asked. "You obviously don't know as much about women as you think you do."

"True, but I still know more about them than you."

Jaime eyed Tyrion doubtfully.

"Look," Tyrion said, "if you're fine with losing Brienne, then don't go. If you're fine with her hating you for the rest of your life, you might as well go bed that whore I sent you right now. But if you want to fix this, if you want to make things right, you have to do it. You know you do. So stop being a fucking coward and go after her already."

Tyrion was right. Jaime hated to admit it, but he knew it was true. He was being a coward. He had gone in search of Tyrion because he'd been too afraid to face Brienne. But he had to face her. He had to fix the damage he'd done.

"All right," Jaime said. "I'll do it, though perhaps you and I should say our goodbyes again now, dear brother, because I cannot promise that I will live to see another day."

Tyrion laughed. "You'll be fine. Brienne loves you too much to kill you. I have no doubt that we'll meet again. In fact, I'm so certain of it that I will make sure that my servants set a place for you at my table tonight."

"And if you're wrong?"

"I'm not wrong. Now go!"

Jaime reluctantly turned away from Tyrion and headed back toward the keep, the blood racing through his veins. He knew he was walking into danger, knew that Brienne had no desire to see him or hear anything he had to say, but he had no choice. He had to find her. He had to explain.

Jaime went straight to the White Sword Tower, knowing that was the likeliest place for Brienne to be. He hurried to her chamber, eager to find her as quickly as possible. He had already wasted enough time, and he didn't want to waste a second more.

When Jaime finally reached Brienne's door, he stopped for a moment, trying to summon up the courage to knock. He knew he had wounded her deeply, and he had to try to make things right, even if he ended up with a sword through his heart.

Jaime raised his hand to the door, his fingers trembling. He forced himself to knock, then waited, unbreathing, for Brienne to answer. He counted the seconds with the beating of his own heart. One, two, three, four.

Jaime heard footsteps inside the room. Heavy, angry footsteps. They moved closer, then suddenly stopped.

"Who's there?" Brienne asked, her voice harsh, harried, as if she was trying very hard not to scream at whoever had disturbed her peace.

"It's me," Jaime said softly, the sound little more than a whisper.

"Go away."

"I can't. I came here to give you something."

"I don't want anything from you."

"Not even the chance to best me in single combat, to cut me down in the yard and bring me to my knees?"

There was silence on the other side of the door. For a moment, Jaime thought Brienne wasn't going to answer, but finally, she said, "Why would I even bother? You've already proven you're a cad. I don't have to best you in combat to prove anything else."

"But you might enjoy it. After all, what could be better than striking me down in public?"

Another long silence passed, but then, Brienne opened the door. Her eyes were clearer now than they had been before, but her face was red and puffy, and it was obvious that she'd been crying.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked. "I might kill you."

"That's a chance I'm willing to take."

Brienne stared at him for a moment, her eyes boring into his soul. He could see her warring with herself, trying to decide if she was willing to take that same chance. But when she finally spoke, her words surprised him. "Why did you do it?" she asked. "Why, after everything you've said and done, why did you do it?"

"I didn't."

"Don't insult me."

"I'm not trying to insult you. That girl you saw in my room—"

"She was a whore."

"Yes, yes, she was," Jaime conceded. "But she wasn't there to service me, she was there to give me dance lessons."

Brienne's eyes narrowed on him, and rather than feeling intimidated by her scrutiny, Jaime felt slightly relieved. He could see that she was at least listening to what he had to say, and that was more than he had expected.

"Dance lessons?" Brienne asked, her tone heavy with suspicion.

"You did say that you would dance with me at the king's feast, or had you forgotten?"

Brienne scowled at the reminder. "Don't you already know how to dance?"

"I wish I did. But from earliest memory, I had my sights set on being a knight, not wooing fair maidens, so I never bothered to learn." He purposefully made no mention of Cersei, knowing that it would do nothing to further his cause.

"You could have just told me that in the first place," Brienne said levelly.

"To be honest, I was a bit embarrassed about it, and Tyrion thought—"

"Why the hell do you listen to Tyrion? Ever? Your brother may be the Hand of the King, but he's also an idiot, especially when it comes to women."

"Yes, I know. And he freely admits it. And I'm an idiot too. I'm sorry, Brienne."

The anger had gone out of Brienne's eyes, and she stared at Jaime in quiet contemplation. He could tell that she wanted to say something, but she was holding back.

When she just continued to stare at him, he asked, "What is it?"

"Did you sleep with her?"

Jaime had thought they had already settled the matter, but he knew he had to tread carefully, lest he lose the ground he'd already gained. "No, I did not."

A short sigh escaped Brienne's throat, and she seemed to relax just a little. She was no longer on high alert, no longer ready to slice him in two, and for that, Jaime was grateful.

"Can I still fight you in the yard?" she asked.

Jaime laughed. "Of course. I would like nothing more than to be bested by the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard in single combat. I would consider it an honor."

"In that case, I shall join you anon. I just have to get my sword."

Jaime was sure that Brienne needed the time to do more than just collect her sword. No doubt, she needed a moment to compose herself in private, to wash her face and dry her tears.

Jaime simply nodded. "As you wish. I shall wait for you in the training yard."

Brienne nodded as well and then took a step back into the room. Her eyes lingered on Jaime a moment longer before she finally closed the door.

Jaime sighed in relief, glad that things had gone so well. Brienne wasn't angry with him anymore, and he was thankful for that. He just wished he hadn't hurt her in the first place.