"Well, I'll be fooked up the arse!" Lord Bronn the Master of Coin, heralded in his own unique fashion, peering over Ser Davos Seaworth's shoulder, halting their barely civil conversation in the Small Council chamber.
"Ser Jaime!" Samwell Tarly, Grande Maester of The Six Kingdoms, proclaimed looking up in shock from his seat at the council table.
Bronn eyed the Kingslayer with an amused yet stunned expression. "Jaime Fooking Lannister." He chuckled, as if he should have known that the same man who had been either brave enough, or fool-hearty enough, to charge a dragon on the Gold Road would not be felled by a few falling chunks of rock.
Jaime simply glared at him as he entered the room behind Tyrion. During the time since his talk with King Bran earlier, Jaime had bathed and groomed, and was now outfitted in a grand suit of Lannister leather armor that Tyrion had stored away for him. He appeared a stately glorious lion, true to his name and Sigil. If those in the room had not known better, they would have thought him freshly arrived in the capital from Casterly Rock.
Davos turned and followed Jaime with his eyes, dumbfounded with surprise. Clearing his throat, he was at last able to speak. "Back from the dead." The Onion Knight acknowledged.
"It would seem, Ser Davos." Jaime agreed, only his eyes giving hint to the discomfort he felt at the scrutiny of the prying gazes from the council.
Tyrion was immediately annoyed at his fellow members of King Bran's inner circle. "Honestly, you would think we had never seen someone recovered from injury before." He said dismissively, suddenly feeling very protective of his brother.
"It is quite a bit more remarkable than that, Lord Hand." Ser Davos answered.
"That's a Godsdamn understatement." Bronn chuckled, finding the whole situation a great comedy.
Sam Tarly stood, examining him from a distance. "How are you feeling, Ser Jaime?" He asked with concern, but still not quite comfortable in his new commanding role.
Even during his time at Winterfell, Jaime had barely noticed the awkward man, far too young to have reached the station he now held. Strangely, Jaime was grateful for Tarly's consideration. "I am quite well, Grand Maester. Thank you." Jaime answered.
"I am glad to hear it." Sam smiled. "If you should need anything, please do not hesitate to call upon me any time." He offered kindly. Jaime bowed his head in appreciative acceptance.
Jaime glanced over those in attendance waiting for King Bran. He swallowed the self conscious knot in his chest. He was once the greatest fighter in the realm. He himself had sat at the very table which took up most of the room, long before any of them had even imagined serving in their revered roles. Why was it he who should feel so nervous and out of place? Clearing his throat, Jaime tried his best to laugh off their ogling.
"Judging from your reactions, it appears you have all believed the exaggerated reports of my death." He chuckled, trying to paint them as the fools.
Bronn gave a sideways snicker. "It's not our reactions that you need to worry about." He remarked, smirking. Everyone knew that Jaime had fathered the Lord Commander's child, and had unceremoniously left her before she had even become aware of the babe. Brienne of Tarth had not so much as spoken Jaime Lannister's name to any of them, undoubtedly burying her anger deep. She was a formidable woman. He would not have missed this particular reunion for all the whores in Kings Landing.
As if on cue, Brienne strode commandingly into the room, proud and tall in her golden Kingsguard armor. She took Jaime's breath away. For an instant, she did not see him, her mind focused on the matters she wished to discuss with the council. It gave him a moment to lose himself in the image of her. His blood rushed at the memory of the passions they had shared. His tongue tasted the sweetness of her kiss. His heart raced with the eternal love he held for her. The very bones within his skin ached at her power and loveliness. For so long he had dreamed of the magnificent woman before him, now, he could only gaze upon her from a distance. She had been his, and he had gloried in their love. It was real, the most genuine emotion he had ever known, and here she was, so close to him again. His breath stopped when he realized that Oathkeeper still hung proudly at her side. She still held the symbol of love which he had given to her, his own heart. It gave Jaime hope. He would only enjoy that buoyant optimism of his first sight of her for a moment. Then, she saw him.
Brienne froze in her tracks. Her eyes fell upon Jaime, her face registering what could only be described as outrage, after the shock dissipated. She reddened with anger, barely able to draw breath through the paralyzing stunned furor that washed over her. It felt that all eyes in the room were riveted upon her, waiting to see how she would react. As with all those in her life who had tried to wrench emotion from her, Brienne would not give them that satisfaction. She simply regarded Jaime contemptuously as she passed, and then sat stiffly in her chair, her back to him.
Brienne's glare as she moved through the room made Jaime feel the size of an insect. He had not meant to cause her such distress, and wished she would have had more warning for his presence there. It seemed he was doing everything wrong. The eyes of the room had moved to him, gauging his response to Brienne's ignoring him so coldly. Jaime did not care. His only concern was how deeply she must be suffering. His pained eyes watched her from behind. Even through her armor, Jaime could see the unintended quickness of her breathing. He could almost hear the racing of her heart.
Jaime ached to speak with Brienne, to say something that would bring her comfort, and ease her distress. They were but paces from each other, and he had never felt so distanced from anyone. He wanted all of the others in the room to vanish. Everything there was for him to tell her, was for no one else to hear. Instead of falling to his knees before the woman he loved and declaring himself to her, Jaime simply followed Tyrion, and took the only empty chair available. He sat, an afterthought, behind Tarly and Davos. At least it put him facing Brienne, within the field of her vision. Her agonized glare did not move from the table top.
He sat for only a moment staring intently at Brienne, who looked a though she wanted to nothing more than to turn to dust, when his imaginings were interrupted by the King. The council stood, respectfully as the young monarch entered, his wheeled chair pushed by Ser Podrick Payne. From across the room Jaime could see Podrick instantly tense at the sight of him. He was certain that if given the chance, the King's Sworn Shield would take great pleasure in running him through. Jaime could not blame him, and noticed how with a turn of his head, Podrick quickly checked to ensure that Brienne was alright. He was grateful, and glad she had such a friend. If he could not watch over her, Jaime knew Podrick would.
"I see we are all here." Bran almost smiled, as Podrick settled his chair at the head of the table and stepped back.
"Yes." Bronn smirked. "All of us." He jeered, rolling his eyes at Jaime.
It was Brienne who furthered that discussion. "Your Grace, if I may." She began. "Ser Jaime is not a member of the Small Council." She pointed out needlessly. "Perhaps his presence here could be viewed as inappropriate. Would it not be better that he should wait elsewhere until our proceedings are concluded?" Her question was more of an urgent suggestion. Never once did Brienne bring her eyes to Jaime, her jaw set in a steely resolve.
King Bran nodded as if he knew Brienne would object. "I appreciate your concern, Lord Commander." He acknowledged. "However, I have asked that Ser Jaime observe our business in these meetings." Brienne seemed shocked. "I have appointed him as Assistant to the Hand of the King, and it would be best if he were aware of the business of the Council." His authoritative tone made it clear that the matter would not be discussed. Jaime watched Brienne, trying to gauge her level of contempt but hoping for her approval. All he saw as the slight grinding of her teeth.
"Of course, Your Grace." Brienne nodded, conceding her stance without argument, but Jaime could tell, quite reluctantly.
"Shall we begin?" King Bran asked of his closest advisors. There were no objections.
Jaime spent the rest of the afternoon, seated behind his brother, never taking his eyes from Brienne. She did a valiant job of not looking at him once. If it had not been for the aching in his heart, and the concentration he had riveted upon Brienne, Jaime would have been bored to distraction. Even in his short tenure as Lord Commander, Jaime had given little attention to such monotonous bureaucracy. He was a man of action. Then, it had meant battle. Now, it was finding a way to win back Brienne's heart which obsessed his thoughts.
Against his will, Jaime was finally dragged from his study of Brienne when the conversation turned to Tyrion and his report on matters regarding the realm. It was when his brother noted that his agents had sent word of a build up of Essosi forces on the western border of the distant continent, that Jaime found another cause for concern. Tyrion had chosen a pseudonym for his more covert associates which Jaime understood meant spies. He wondered at the need for them. Jaime could hear the urgency in his brother's tone. He understood that Tyrion, who had been part of Daenarys Targaryen's amassing of an army from that exotic land, also realized what it could mean to Westeros. Both of their brains screamed invasion.
Bran nodded, his expression giving the matter some reflection, but not the gravity which Jaime felt it deserved. Unable to stay quiet in the matter, not when Brienne's safety and that of their son could be in jeopardy, Jaime spoke up. "Excuse me, Your Grace." He interjected. "The matters in Essos are extremely concerning. Westeros is weakened and, forgive me, your reign unproven. Now, would be the time that ambitious leaders in other lands might decide to attack." He explained. "You have no Master of War to lead your men, should such a strike occurs." He tried to advise the King.
Brienne cleared her throat, and attempted to halt Jaime's plea, although she knew he was right to be worried. "Your Grace, Ser Jaime does not sit on the Council. I do not think his advice is necessarily warranted here." She reminded, raising her chin defiantly.
Bran quieted her objection with an understanding stoicism. "Thank you Lord Commander, but I think we can give credence to Ser Jaime's expertise in the matter." Brienne's face fell, as she realized that it appeared Jaime was to be an unofficial member of the Small Council.
"Ser Jaime." Bran turned his attention to his Hand's new assistant, willing to take his opinion into account. "Rest assured, we will pay the utmost heed to events regarding Essos." He promised. "As for the Master of War seat, it will be filled in due time and with the right person, you have my word." Bran swore, leaving Jaime with more questions than answers.
"If there is no more to discuss at present, our business here is adjourned." Bran declared, the look upon his face making it evident that his mind was already moving to more transitory matters. He motioned for Ser Podrick to escort him from the room. The council rose as the King exited. Jaime saw his chance.
Brienne stood behind her chair and took a step away from the others, watching King Bran leave. The path to her was clear, he had to try. Springing from his seat, Jaime covered the distance between the in a split second. At least he was near her. "Brienne." He said when he reached her, his voice soft and gentle. He stood so close, they Brienne could almost feel his breath on her neck. She gasped as if a clap of thunder had startled her. She did not turn to face him, but followed quickly upon the same path by which the King had left.
Jaime's voice grew louder, more pleading, as he called after her. "Please Brienne." He begged. "I need to speak with you." He felt his fleeting moment of hope slip through his fingers like sand as he watched her round the doorway and disappear into the hall. He stood in her wake, certain that his shattering heart could be heard by everyone.
Bronn, of course, was the only one in the room who lacked either the good judgement or the common concern to at least pretend he had not seen the exchange between Jaime and Brienne. He sidled up to Jaime, overly satisfied with his self-supposed sense of humor. "You've got a pretty deadly woman angry with you, my friend." Bronn chuckled.
"We're not friends." Jaime sneered, only moving his gaze from Brienne's path long enough to glare at Bronn.
"Maybe not." Bronn continued. "But take a little friendly advice, from someone whose has had plenty of women mad at him." He offered, unsolicited. "Never underestimate the fury of a woman." He warned, his eyes flashing.
Jaime rolled his eyes in disgust, and left Bronn standing there, laughing. He made it to the hallway, but found Brienne already gone. There was no sign of her. Jaime wanted to go after her, to plead his case. Instead a hand on his elbow drew Jaime from his doubts.
"Come, Brother." Tyrion smiled considerately up at him. "Let us drown your sorrows." He suggested.
The only thing Jaime wished to do was follow Brienne. He longed to chase her down, and declare himself the fool he knew he was. However, he feared Bronn might be correct. He was certain he was the last person Brienne wanted to see.
Brienne took the deserted passageway at a near run. The shock and embarrassment she had felt at coming face to face with Jaime in the Small Council chamber, had subsided. All that remained was the steady aching pain she had felt since the moment he had ridden away from her, the hurt that refused to leave. She feared she would never be free of it. The pain would not allow her celebrate that he still lived, or even to be kind to him. It made her terrified to admit what her heart already knew, her feelings for him had never died.
Reaching the end of the long hallway, before determining to turn right or left and continue her fleeing, Brienne paused for a moment. She almost expected to hear his footsteps behind her, hurrying to catch up. Part of her wished for the echo of his boots upon the stones. Brienne knew that if she turned to see his face coming toward her, she would powerless to resist him. She had felt his stare boring into her in the Small Council chamber. It had taken all she had not to raise her eyes and lose herself in the emerald depths of his.
Almost as soon as the thoughts formed in her mind, Brienne felt her resolve failing her. It made her angry with herself. She could not allow her fury to fade. She could not open herself to his rejection again. Brienne could not imagine what allowing Jaime back into her life would mean. Would she awaken on some other cold night to find him gone. She doubted she could survive that heartbreak a second time, and she would not subject her child to it.
At the convergence of another corridor, Brienne's feet refused to push on another step. Her breath failed in her lungs. She knew that at any moment the tears she had choked back as she sat only a short distance from Jaime would explode forth, uncontrollably. She was desperate to find privacy, away from those who might find her in a moment of weakness.
Searching desperately, Brienne's troubled gaze fell upon a windowless alcove, deserted and forgotten. She forced her feet to carry her the last few steps to reach the shadowy darkness it would provide. Once inside, she pressed herself against the wall just beside its arched entrance, and fought to catch her breath. Her eyes closed, relishing the hiding in the tiny bay. Through the tears that seeped from her closed lids, Brienne's mind replayed the scene of a few moments before. Her body reacted to Jaime having come upon her from behind. He had frightened her, not simply his unexpected approach, but the feelings he brought to the surface. She had thought them buried, had hoped them to be so. As she sat in the Council chamber fighting herself not to look at Jaime, Brienne realized her longing for him was as strong as it ever was. She brought her fingers to her lips, remembering the touch of his kiss upon her skin. Her body blazed at the memory of the passion they had shared. Her heart ached with the love she had always held for him. She could not let it overtake her, not this time.
Slowly, softly, regretfully Brienne opened her eyes. Her breathing slowed, and she swallowed hard against the emotions constricting her throat. She knew that if Jaime were standing before her at that moment, she have easily succumbed to the emotions rising within her. Gods, she still loved him. With all of her heart, she loved him.