The Stark army had found him down by the river trying to procure a single-row boat. The Kingslayer had been no match for the speed of their horses or the men that had outnumbered him. They had dragged him back to their camp on his knees, his hands bound once more in shackles. Men spat at Jaime and cursed at him as he was pulled past. Some even tried to hurt him - though he didn't expect any less, not after what he had done to the jailer. They called for his hanging, for him to meet the same fate as dear old Ned, but there was one who saw the value to his life: The wife of their late liege and the mother of their king, Catelyn Stark.

The Lady-Wolf had him confined back to his cell, both of the bodies he had left were gone but the smell of shit remained. He stewed in the mud, with guards outside his cell. It would have been a great insult to not have Stark men stand guard, though it was clear they were not there to keep him locked away inside but to keep angered soldiers at bay. They came at him in droves, fought back by the word treason. As if it would be enough - it hadn't been enough to stop Jaime all those years ago and he was sure it wouldn't be enough now. Shutting his eyes, Jaime began to accept that he wouldn't see another sunrise and he wouldn't see Julianna again.

The shrill creak of the cell door hasn't alerted Jaime at first. He hadn't even bothered to open his eyes, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of fighting his imminent death. No, he would accept it with peace - but the cold blade of death didn't come. Instead, it was a woman's voice, Catelyn stark once more.

"Come to say goodbye, Lady Stark? I believe it's my last night in this world," he had wanted to be coy, taunting even but his gaze was quickly drawn to a towering soldier. The firelight glowing in the night was not enough for Jaime to see them clearly as the figure remained in the shadow of the lady they served. It was a knight, no, their features were much too soft. He squinted hard through the darkness, managing to make out short blonde hair that hung down to frame wide blue eyes that were far too feminine to belong to any man. "Is that a woman?"

His question was one quickly ignored by Catelyn, "Do you hear them out there? They want your head."

"Old Karstark doesn't seem to like me," Jaime almost smiled as he looked past the cell to the large burly man with the thick grey beard that had led the charge. He was being forced away by guards now, but it was only a matter of time before he returned for his head.

"You strangled his son with your chains."

"Oh," Jaime half chuckled, "Oh, was he the one on guard duty? He was in my way. Any knight would have done the same-"

"You are no knight. You have forsaken every vow you ever took."

Catelyn wasn't wrong. He had murdered his king, fucked his sister and a whore. Jaime had no honour, but he wasn't going to pretend like he hadn't. "So many vows. They make you swear and swear. Defend the king, obey the king, obey your father, protect the innocent, defend the weak. But what if your father despises the king? What if the King massacres the innocent? It's too much. No matter what you do, you're forsaking one vow or another." He had tried to remain focused on Catelyn with her sad eyes and quivering lip, but his eyes wandered to the woman in man's mail. Her stare was intense, her hand resting over her sword ready to draw and strike. "Where did you find this beast?"

"She is a truer knight than you will ever be, Kingslayer."

"Kingslayer. What a king he was. Here's to Arets Targaryen, the Second of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm and to the sword shoved in his back," that had been the rumours anyway, and Jaime had never corrected them. It didn't matter much how he had killed the kind whether it had been the sword in his back or the cut to the throat it truly had been. It made him a Kingslayer all the same.

"You are a man without honour."

"I have more honour than poor old dead Ned," Jaime spoke slowly, "what was the name of the bastard he fathered?"

"Brienne," the woman in mail stepped forward and into the light, her face clear to Jaime now. She really was a huge, ugly shambling thing.

He didn't let the intimidation of her stride silence him: "No that, wasn't it. Snow, a bastard from the North. Now, when good old Ned came home with some whore's baby, did you pretend to love it? No. You're not very good at pretending." Even years later, when he had joined King Robert and his sister, Cersei, on their journey to the North Cately struggled to hide the look of disgust on her face when the poor bastard was in the room. "You're an honest woman. You hated that boy, didn't you? How could you not hate him? The walking, talking reminder that the honourable Lord Eddard Stark fucked another woman."

Catelyn turned to the lady-knight - not she wasn't a knight not really, just a sworn-sword. "Your sword."

Jaime's blood ran cold in his veins. There it was, his last moments - and he had chosen his last words to be about Ned Stark's infidelity. What a shame it was, he could have found so much more to say. Shutting his eyes, he leaned his head back and waited. Jaime could hear her sword was drawn from its sheath, he held his breath and waited for her strike. All he could do was hope she would make it quick.

The blade of her sword cut through the air, sending it in a rush towards Jaime's cheek as it came down on the rusted chain that bound his collar to the post that confined him. It had only taken one swift swing to free him. Brienne guided her sword back into place before she took hold of the Kingslayer in both hands. He reeked of piss and shit and stumbled on his feet as she dragged him through the mud.

Jaime's eyes shot wide open, they surely weren't going to throw him to the wolves, were they? He struggled on his feet, his lips parting to speak but was silenced by a hush of air forced between Brienne's teeth. She wasn't killing him, she was going to free him. Jaime's head turned wildly, he looked to Catelyn Stark who stalked after them, her narrow eyes focused in on him to make clear this wasn't a favour. She wanted something in return. Brienne dragged him to the stables, forcing him down on his knees between a mare and a steaming pile of shit.

Catelyn had stopped in the doorway, the silver light of the moon embraced her frame, casting an elegant shadow in the dirt beneath her feet. "I will spare you your life and in return: You will bring me my girls ."


Jamie had never had such discomfort on horseback. His wrists remained bound by chain leaving him to grasp at reigns feebly and his core ached from the constant tension of trying to remain upright. His thighs chaffed as they rest on each side of his saddle, the dirty rags that he no longer considered clothes irritating his skin. Yet, he almost smiled. The morning air was fresh on his face, blowing long, matted, hair back over his shoulders. There were no more demands for his death, no noise from the camp that used to surround him. No, now he going home. Now he was free - or as free as a man could as he was being escorted home in shackles. Jaime's horse was guided forward by the second pair of reigns, held by the grotesque woman that was charged with delivering him to King's Landing. Jaime's eyes narrowed on the back of her head, imagining an arrow or a sword through it. If only he was armed. If only he was strong enough. He would slay the beast and escape to King's Landing with no obligation to return the Stark girls. Then, he would march North with an army and kill their precious King himself.

The horse halted sending a disjointed Jaime wobbling on its back. He had been so lost in his own mind, inside his own morbid fantasies that he hadn't even noticed that Brienne had dismounted her horse along the woods of the Riverlands and sent it out into the vast lands. Her rough hands were quick to find him, shoving his withering body off his mount. His horse was sent on its way with a firm smack on its backside. They would be walking from here.

Jaime growled through grit teeth as her head found his hood and tugged it up over his head and his eyes to obscure his vision as he was tugged along their uncertain path. Stumbled steps followed in her wake, his head leaning back as to get a bitter look at her face. "Damn," his words were weak as he leaned back far enough to knock his hood back onto his shoulders, "you're much uglier in the daylight. What's your name?" Finding his footing, he walked side by side with his silent captor. She wasn't going to be successful in ignoring him forever, "I'm Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock, son of Tywin." As if she didn't already know. "A captive knight has a right to know his captor's identity."

"Brienne of Tarth."

There it was. Her first failure. He could break her yet.

"Tarth, Tarth, Tarth," he thought out loud, trying to recall the name he had heard before, "Crescent moons and starbursts. Lord Selwyn Tarth. Your father," his eyes grew bright with realization. Of course, she had to be highborn. She would have never been able to forge her path as a sworn sword if she hadn't been. "Do you have brothers and sisters, my lady? It's a long way to King's Landing, might as well get to know one another-"

Brienne remained silent, and Jaime pressed on.

"Have you known many men?"

Brienne grunted.

"I suppose not. Maybe women? Horses? "

She tugged hard on his restraints, sending Jaime stumbling through rocks and grass. The grey stone was rough through worn boots, hurting tired feet that were not used to walking. He hissed through his teeth, his lips curling up at the corners. He was going to break her one way or another.

"I didn't mean to give offence, my lady," those words seemed to upset her most of all, "Forgive me," he added, though he didn't really mean it. They came to the river's edge, the water babbling over rocks where the water was shallow along the banks. Abandoned among the brush was a lonely rowboat big enough for two - though Jaime was sure they would be cramped and had a great risk of tipping with Brienne's great size. He watched as she kneeled down alongside the boat, pulling at the ropes that kept it from floating up the river, continuing to ignore each word that slipped off his tongue, "Why do you hate me so much? Have I ever harmed you?"

Propped up on one knee, Brienne glared back over her shoulder at the dishonourable man. "You have harmed others, those you were sworn to protect, the weak, the innocent ."

Jaime scoffed as he hovered over her shoulder, "Has anyone told you that you're as boring as you are ugly?" The way she looked at him, Jaime had almost expected to be hit - and he surely deserved it - but a strike never came. Instead, he was met with the force of her tug on his restraints, pulling him forward and soaking his boots in river water. Cocking his head back, his jaw slacked and his eyes narrowed. Really?

" You will not provoke me to anger-"

"I already have," His hands raised out from his sides, the best he could with the restraint of his chains, and gestured the water, "Look at you, you're ready to chop my head off. Do you think you could?" He would like to see her try. "Do you think you could beat me in a fair fight ?"

"I've never seen you fight," her words were distant, cold. She would not entertain him.

"The answer is no," Jaime answered for her, "There are three men in the kingdoms who might have a chance against me. You are not one of them. "

Brienne had to keep herself from laughing. She had to remain composed, even if he was acting like a fool. The Kingslayer had been the Stark's captive for months. He was tired, malnourished, and well out of practice. Fighting him would be all too easy. "All my life men like you have sneered at me, and all my life I've been knocking men like you into the dust."

"If you're so confident, unlock my chains," Jaime leaned in, his words slowing as they begged her to fight him, "Let's see what happens."

"Do you take me for an idiot?" Brienne's brow raised up, her rough hand pushing him towards the rowboat, "In!"

Jaime obeyed, the boat unsteady beneath his feet as he climbed into his seat. For a moment he wondered if she would let him drown if he had fallen into the water, but that would have been all too easy for her - but she was a woman of loyalty, Brienne would not leave the Stark girls in the clutches of his family. "I took you for a fighter, a man - Pardon - a woman of honour. Was I wrong?" Jaime watched as she pushed the boat from the shallows, and settled into her place across from him, " You're afraid. "

"Maybe one day we'll find out, Kingslayer."


The night was cold, colder than the ones he felt in the North - or maybe that was just the dampness of the clothes he wore. Jaime lay shivering on the ground, his back pressed up against a fallen log by the river as he slept. Beside him Brienne of Tarth sat upright, vigilant, with his chains in her hand. She wouldn't sleep, not yet. A small fire danced at her feet for warmth but it would have to be stomped out soon, the risk of someone seeing it was too great. Her head leaned back against the tree bark as she enjoyed the warmth that radiated through her boots. Bright sapphire eyes look up to the stars to watch them glimmer, enjoying the silence that came with the night and her sleeping captive. Such a belligerent fool of a man he was. Was this truly the esteemed knight she had grown up hearing about? He was not just nor was he kind. He was despicable, ignorant, and selfish. How could such a man be granted knighthood? Brienne scoffed, how could such a man be honoured with being risen to the Kingsguard? Not but just once but by two Kings!

All men are fools.
It was clearer now more than ever.

Pushing up from the ground, Brienne let the chains fall to the dirt - the fool was fast asleep, there was no threat of him running off on her now. Boots kicked through the small pile of timber that had cooked her supper, a small hare that she was forced to split with her prisoner, and had given her warmth. Eyes scanned through the darkness assuring that there would be no threat to her as she slept. When she was satisfied, Brienne lowered herself back into the dirt and took a firm hold on Jaime's chains. Even asleep, she would assure that Jaime would not escape her. It didn't take her easily, the sounds of animals in the bushes keeping her alert and the mumbling of the Kingslayer's lips in his sleep bringing her to the edge of annoyance. She pressed her lips firmly together with restraint, oh how she wanted to kick him! To wake him from his sleep so she could finally enjoy the quiet. Her eyes were daggers as she stared at him as if it would be enough to silence him. The longer she looked, the more she saw. There was sweat gathering along his brow, and it wasn't animals in the bush rustling leaves but Jaime as he tossed and turned in the dirt. The Kingslayer was dreaming. His lips quivered as he mumbled and curiosity struck Brienne. Just what did the Kingslayer dream about? She leaned in a little closer. Was it a nightmare that forced him to relive the murder of his king? Or did he dream of his sister-lover, the mother of his rumoured bastard children, Queen Cersei Lannister?

It was a struggle to hear as each word was drawn into the next. Brienne shut her eyes, focusing on the sound of his voice. Brienne had almost expected to hear something vulgar or cruel instead she heard only a name: Julianna. Who this girl was, Brienne didn't know but her name would be heard time and time again during their journey south. It could only be heard in the night as he slept and was paired with a single promise: Julianna, I'm coming home.