Chapter Forty-one
The next fortnight flew by in a haze, the Red Keep a flurry of activity as everyone prepared for the nuptials of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Master of War. Brienne barely had time to think between the moment Bran declared that she and Jaime would be wed and the day of the wedding. There were flowers to be chosen, a meal to plan, and a dress to have made. Brienne had wanted to be married in one of the gowns she'd commissioned for the feast, but Sansa had insisted that she have something new for the occasion. The Queen in the North had postponed her plans to return to Winterfell until after the wedding, and she had used the intervening days to put her considerable sewing skills to good use.
"Don't fidget so much," Sansa scolded lightly as she put another pin in the hem of Brienne's gown.
"It's fine just as it is," Brienne replied, smoothing down the folds of the ice-blue silk, marveling at the little suns and crescent moons sewn into the fabric, the symbols of House Tarth.
"It is not fine just as it is. It has to be perfect for tomorrow."
Brienne sighed heavily. "If you insist."
Brienne stayed deathly still as Sansa finished up her measurements, adding a few extra pins here and there before she was finally satisfied.
"There," Sansa said, standing to her full height and taking a step back. "You can look now."
Brienne turned toward the long mirror in the center of Sansa's bedchamber, the breath stilling in her lungs. The gown was beautiful, even more beautiful than the gowns Brienne had worn to the feast, and for a moment, she was simply too stunned to speak.
"Please tell me you like it," Sansa said, a hint of uncertainty in her tone. "The wedding's tomorrow, and there's no time to make drastic alterations."
Brienne shook her head numbly. "Like it? I adore it. I . . . I never thought to see myself look so lovely."
Sansa moved between Brienne and the mirror, absently fussing with the folds of Brienne's skirt. "And you're going to look even lovelier tomorrow. We'll put flowers in your hair and perhaps a little color on your cheeks."
"Oh, no," Brienne protested. "Flowers, yes. Color, no. I don't want anyone to think that I've tried to make myself up, even for my wedding. Lord Bronn will surely accuse me of wishing to join a mummers' troupe."
"All right then, no color. Though I doubt it will even matter," Sansa said with a mischievous glint in her eye. "The moment you see Lord Jaime standing at that altar, I'm sure your whole face will light up."
Brienne felt a familiar heat flood her cheeks, and she quickly averted her gaze. She knew Sansa was right. The instant she saw Jaime waiting for her in the sept, she would blush fiercely, her cheeks flushing a natural shade of pink.
It took Brienne a moment to regain her composure before she finally looked at Sansa again. "Thank you for this," Brienne said, her emotions suddenly threatening to overwhelm her. "For the gown. For everything. I must admit, I'm a little sorry that you and Lord Tyrion will not be joining us on the altar tomorrow. It would be rather nice to have a double wedding, don't you think?"
"It would, but I've already married Tyrion once in the Faith of the Seven, and I doubt the northern lords would approve if I did so again. This time when we wed, it must be done the old way, in the godswood at Winterfell, beneath the weirwood tree."
"I wish I could be there to see it."
"I wish you could be there too." Sansa's expression sobered, and she reached out, taking both of Brienne's hands in her own. "I'm going to miss you," she said. "I haven't had any female friends since I was a child. Margaery Tyrell was the last of them, and you know how that turned out. You mean a great deal to me, Brienne. And now, we're going to be sisters, and I couldn't be happier. Even though we must part ways, we shall see each other again soon. I'm sure of it."
The corner of Brienne's mouth quirked in a knowing smile. "Yes, and I'm sure that before the year is out, at least one of us will be welcoming a child into this world. Perhaps we'll have to come together to celebrate the occasion."
A touch of heat warmed Sansa's cheeks, and her lips curved in their own secret smile. "I'm sure there will be many children," she said. "And you are always welcome at Winterfell."
"And you will always be welcome at Casterly Rock."
Sansa squeezed Brienne's hands before letting them go. Just as she did, there was a knock at the door.
"Who's there?" Sansa asked, her eyes locked with Brienne's.
"Lord Jaime. I'm . . . I'm looking for Brienne. Is she in there?"
Brienne's whole body flushed cold, and her eyes went wide. She was still wearing her wedding gown, and she was afraid Jaime might see it.
Sansa must have sensed her dread because she answered, "Just a moment." Then, she held out a hand, silently instructing Brienne to stay right where she was. As Brienne stood there watching her, Sansa crossed to the door, opening it just a hairsbreadth and peeking outside. "Good evening, Lord Jaime."
"Good evening, Your Grace," Jaime said in a curious tone.
"Sansa, please. After all, we're almost family."
"Sansa," he corrected. "Is Brienne in there? Bran wants to see her."
"Bran?" The word left Brienne's throat before she could even think. She headed straight for the door, intending to throw it wide open so she could talk to Jaime, but Sansa quickly slammed it shut.
"Brienne?" Jaime's voice carried to her from the hallway.
"What does Bran want with me?" Brienne asked.
"He . . . he didn't say. Brienne, open the door."
Brienne opened her mouth to speak, but Sansa replied for her. "She can't. She's in her wedding gown, and you're not allowed to see it until morning. Give us a moment. I'll help Brienne change, and then she can join you."
Without waiting for Jaime to reply, Sansa grabbed Brienne by the wrist and pulled her away from the door.
"There's really no need for me to change," Brienne argued. "Whatever Bran wants, it may be important."
"Whatever Bran wants can wait. Now, let's get you out of this dress without wrinkling it, and then you can follow Jaime wherever you like."
A quarter of an hour later, Brienne was back in her tunic and breeches. She said goodbye to Sansa and slipped out into the corridor, finding Jaime casually leaning against the wall.
"Took you long enough," he said as he finally stood upright and took a step forward.
"Yes, well, Sansa was afraid that I would wrinkle my gown, and we had to be careful removing it."
Jaime laughed. "I hope you don't expect me to show the same restraint tomorrow night."
Brienne's whole body flushed with heat at the implication. "Of course not. Once the ceremony is over, you may do whatever you like with my gown."
Jamie arched a single brow. "Oh, does that mean I get to cut the ties with my sword, make short work of it altogether?"
"As far as I'm concerned, you may do as you please. Though, if you do damage the gown, I think Queen Sansa might have your head for it."
Jaime smiled broadly, shaking his head. "Come on, we have to meet Bran."
As they walked toward Bran's solar, a growing unease settled in the pit of Brienne's stomach. When she could bear the uncertainty no longer, she asked, "What do you think he wants?"
"I have no idea, but knowing Bran, it could be anything."
"And he asked for me, not you?" Brienne was puzzled by the idea that Bran wanted to see her and her alone. She hadn't had a private audience with him in months, and the night before her wedding seemed a strange time to discuss Kingsguard business.
"Yes," Jaime answered, "and that's what worries me. I don't know what Bran wants, but you know me, where Brandon Stark is concerned, I always fear the worst."
Brienne and Jaime reached their destination far too quickly for Brienne's liking. When they did, they found Bran sitting in the corridor, before the closed door to his solar.
Brienne stumbled to a halt, surprised to find Bran waiting for them. "Your Grace," she said with a referential nod.
"Lady Brienne. Lord Jaime. Thank you for coming."
Brienne's heart beat a little faster as she met Bran's gaze, his eyes as cold and steely as ever. She had no idea what he wanted with her, though she couldn't imagine it was anything good.
"There is someone waiting for you in my solar," Bran said flatly, not a hint of emotion in his voice. "Lord Jaime and I shall leave you now."
Brienne tore her eyes away from Bran's and looked at Jaime. He seemed just as confused as she was. Brienne couldn't even begin to fathom who could possibly be waiting for her behind the closed door. She'd just left Sansa, and Tyrion could have no cause to ask Bran to arrange a private meeting. It all seemed so terribly strange, and Brienne did her best not to let her imagination get the better of her.
Jaime turned away from Brienne and looked pointedly at Bran. "Perhaps I should accompany the Lord Commander. After all, by this time tomorrow, she will be my wife, and if this matter concerns her, then it concerns me as well."
"I believe Brienne will be fine on her own," Bran replied. "You will come with me. You will be leaving here soon, and you must still give me a final accounting of our troops before you go."
But Brienne knew that Bran and Jaime had nothing left to discuss. Tyrion had already delivered all of Jaime's reports to the king days ago. Bran's insistence that he and Jaime talk was just an excuse to get Jaime away from the door so that Brienne could meet with her visitor alone.
Brienne reached out and gently rested her hand on Jaime's arm, trying to reassure him. "It's all right," she said. "I'll be fine. You go with King Bran, and I will see you at dinner."
Jaime turned to look at her again. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure." Brienne let go of his arm and rested her palm against Oathkeeper's hilt. "I have my sword, and I am perfectly capable of handling myself."
The hint of a smile pulled at Jaime's lips. "Yes, you certainly are."
"Come," Bran said, instantly putting an end to the discussion. "You can push my chair as we talk."
Jaime's eyes lingered on Brienne a moment longer before he finally left her side and moved behind Bran's chair. He wheeled the king away from his solar with slow steps, casting one last look at Brienne before disappearing around the corner.
Once she was alone, Brienne's apprehension began to gnaw at her again. Her pulse raced, and she inhaled a long, slow breath, tightening her grip on Oathkeeper just to ground herself. When she was certain that she could handle whatever was lying in wait for her, she dropped her hand to her side and headed toward the door. She knocked, purely out of habit, and then went inside before whoever waited for her could answer.
Brienne only managed to walk two steps before she froze. The breath caught in her throat and her heart slammed against her chest as her eyes met her father's for the first time in more years than she could remember.
Selwyn Tarth stood on the other side of the room, staring back at her with unmistakable love and affection reflected in his clear blue eyes. Brienne had never expected him to make the journey all the way to King's Landing for her wedding. She had sent news to him by raven the morning after she had accepted Jaime's proposal, but she'd never thought he'd actually attend the ceremony. By Brienne's calculation, there just hadn't been enough time for him to receive word and make it to King's Landing for the wedding.
Brienne was so stunned that she couldn't even speak, and it was Selwyn who finally broke the silence.
"Brienne," he said in a hauntingly familiar voice. "It's so good to see you again."
Without thinking, Brienne closed the door and moved toward her father, reaching him in a few long strides. She didn't say a word as she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly, tears pooling in her eyes.
Selwyn's arms wrapped around Brienne, and he drew her close, hugging her as if he hadn't seen her in years, which he hadn't. Brienne distinctly remembered the last time she had seen him. It had been the morning she had set off to pledge herself to Renly Baratheon's service.
Brienne could scarcely believe that her father was holding her again after such a long time, and she didn't ever want him to let her go. "Father, what . . . what are you doing here?"
"The king invited me to your wedding weeks ago. I was surprised you hadn't written to me yourself."
Brienne pulled away, needing to see her father's face as they talked. "Weeks ago? But Jaime and I have only been betrothed for a fortnight. Surely, Bran—" But before Brienne could finish, all the pieces suddenly fell into place and there was no point in continuing the thought. Bran had known all along that she and Jaime were to be wed. He had simply imparted the news to Selwyn Tarth long before he had told either of them.
"Surely Bran what?" Selwyn asked.
Brienne shook her head. "It doesn't matter." She leaned forward and hugged her father one more time before letting him go. Then, she took a step back so she could get a better look at him. "How was your journey? You're looking well, Father. Tired, but well."
"I'm not going to lie; the journey was a long one," Selwyn said as he lowered himself down into one of the chairs before Bran's desk.
Once he was settled, Brienne sat in the matching chair beside him, her gaze intently focused on his face.
"But it was worth it just to see you," Selwyn continued, reaching out and taking Brienne's hands in his own.
"You have no idea how much I've missed you, Father. How much I've wanted to see you and talk to you and tell you all about my life here in King's Landing."
"Your letters have been helpful in that regard, though I must admit, they did not prepare me for the news that you intend to marry the Kingslayer."
"His name is Jaime," Brienne said pointedly. "And I love him, Father. More than anything."
Selwyn's lips curved in a wry smile. "You've been in love before, with Renly Baratheon, a man who could never love you in return. But I hear that this man feels as strongly about you as you do about him, and if that's true, then I am truly happy for you, my dear girl. And to be the Lady of Casterly Rock," Selwyn said, a touch of awe in his tone. "Well, that's far beyond what I ever expected for anyone in our family. It's quite the achievement, isn't it?"
Brienne squeezed her father's hands and then let them go, relaxing a little in her chair. "It wasn't anything like that. I didn't set out to ensnare the most eligible bachelor in Westeros. It just rather happened."
Selwyn chuckled softly. "I know that, my dear. No one knows better than I do just how pure of heart you are. There is not a fairer, more honorable maid in all the world than my daughter, and I couldn't be more proud of you."
Brienne's cheeks flushed warmly. Suddenly, she felt like a little girl at her father's knee again, eager for his approval. She knew he loved her and supported her in whatever she did, and she was overjoyed that he was there to share in her happiness.
"Thank you, Father. But you're the one who instilled those values in me, so I can't take all the credit."
"Nonsense," Selwyn said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You deserve all the praise. You've had a hard life, my girl, and it could have turned you bitter, but you didn't let it. And now, look at you. Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the first female knight in the history of Westeros, and about to marry Tywin Lannister's heir. I must say, this is one of those rare instances in life where virtue is actually rewarded instead of punished."
"I'm glad you're here, Father," Brienne said, changing the subject since Selwyn's praise made her far too uncomfortable. "I had no idea that Bran had written to you. I sent my own letter a fortnight ago, right after the betrothal, but I didn't think it would reach you in time. But now, I see Bran was planning this all along."
Selwyn leaned in closer, as if he feared that someone might overhear what he was about to say. "Tell me something, is the king as gifted as rumor would have it? Did he know about your wedding plans because Lord Lannister confided in him or because he can see the future?"
Brienne wasn't sure how much she should tell her father. If it were anyone else asking, she would have simply deflected the question, but she couldn't do that to him, not even for her king.
"I'm not entirely sure of the extent of Bran's powers, but yes, it seems that he has moments of prescience, though they may just be flashes of the future."
"That sounds terribly unsettling," Selwyn replied. "How dreadful it must be to live such a life. As much as I want to be sure that you have a happy future, I don't think I'd ever truly want to know what was to come. It would be fine to know the good but crippling to know the bad. It must be quite difficult for King Bran."
Brienne smiled softly at her father. Leave it to Selwyn Tarth to think about Bran's feelings in all of this. Selwyn was a very empathetic man, always thinking of others and trying to see things from their perspective. Instead of being fearful of the king's powers, he was concerned for Bran's well-being, and it made Brienne love him all the more.
"The king is not as he once was," Brienne said. "He is not the Brandon Stark who lived at Winterfell before he . . ." Brienne faltered. It was hard for her to say the words, even after all this time, knowing it had been Jaime who had pushed Bran from the window. "Before he fell from the broken tower," she continued. "He does not feel things the way you or I do. At least, I don't think he does. Lord Tyrion believes that makes him a better king, less inclined to personal whim, though I'm not quite sure if I agree. I've always thought, to be an effective ruler, one must feel a bit of passion for their people."
"And does your Jaime Lannister feel a passion for his people?"
"He does."
"And does he feel a passion for you?"
It was an unexpected question, particularly coming from her father, but Brienne had no difficulty answering it. She was proud of the fact that Jaime Lannister loved her, that his passion for her was both undeniable and shameless.
"Yes, he does," Brienne answered, unable to keep the joy from her voice. "And I am just as passionate about him."
"Even though he was rumored to have fathered his own niece and nephews?"
Brienne had been waiting for her father to get to that. Even though she knew he trusted her judgment, she wasn't the least bit surprised that he still had questions about Jaime's worthiness. After all, until fairly recently, Jaime had been known as the Kingslayer throughout the land and the rumors about him and Cersei had been pervasive and persistent.
"We are none of us without sin," Brienne said. "And whatever Jaime may or may not have done in the past, he is a different man now. Cersei Lannister is dead, and so are her children, and there is nothing holding Jaime to her anymore. He is a good man, Father. The truest, bravest, most honorable man I know, and there is no other I would rather take for a husband. When I came to King's Landing, I had originally planned to commit myself to the Kingsguard for the rest of my life, but King Bran thought this was a better path for me and would not let me vow my life away."
"I have to say, I am glad of it," Selwyn replied. "As wary as I am of having the infamous Jaime Lannister as a son-in-law, I'm overjoyed at the prospect of seeing you happily married, Brienne. For a long time, I thought that was the last thing you ever wanted. But now that you've embraced that future for yourself, I'm finally free to tell you how happy I am. Maybe I'll even live long enough to finally see some grandchildren, something I had long since despaired of."
Brienne's eyes darted away for a moment, finding the subject a difficult one to discuss with her father. She and Jaime had spent every night together for more than two weeks now, and there was a very good chance that there was already a babe growing inside her.
When Brienne finally looked at Selwyn again, she said, "If I have anything to do with it, Father, I promise, you will live long enough to see more than one grandchild."
Selwyn smiled brightly, his broad grin so like Brienne's own that it nearly took her breath away. She liked seeing her father happy, and she was grateful that she could be the source of his joy.
"And you really love him?" Selwyn asked, clearly needing Brienne's reassurance.
"With all my heart."
"Then I am happy, child. That is all I've ever wanted for you." Selwyn pushed himself up from his chair and moved closer, leaning down to place a gentle kiss atop Brienne's head. As he pulled away, he said, "Now, all that remains is for me to meet this young man of yours and decide for myself if he is worthy of my blessing."
"Father!"
Selwyn laughed. "Did you think I would allow a man—any man, even Jaime Lannister—to marry my daughter without first meeting him and giving my approval? You may be a grown woman now, and more than capable of looking out for yourself, but you are still a Tarth and I am still your father, and I have a duty to make sure that this man deserves you."
Brienne's pulse quickened, and an unexpected sense of dread threatened to overpower her. "Is there anything I can do to stop this?"
"Not a thing," Selwyn said, shaking his head. "So, when do I get to meet the Golden Lion of Casterly Rock? Tonight, or on the morning of your wedding?"
"I suppose it shall have to be tonight."
"Very well, then. Take me to him, and I shall judge for myself whether or not Jaime Lannister is worthy of you."