The weeks passed into a predictable rhythm among Jaime, Brienne, and their small babe. Galladon reveled in the constant attentions of both his mother and his father. He was nearly sitting up by himself, and was able to spend more time in his own entertainment. The crying that had accompanied Jaime's first few days of caring for him had subsided as the child soon realized that his father would always be near. Although, the distance between his parents remained, their son was the one link that continued to hold them tightly together.
Jaime had become a regular sight, traipsing here and there around the White Sword Tower, or to whatever parts of the Red Keep that Brienne's duties determined, the little bundle of Galladon in his arms. He cared not about the sneers that followed his path from the troops who populated the yard and hallways. The men found great amusement that the mighty Kingslayer had become nursemaid to an infant, and made him the butt of their jests whenever the opportunity arose. True to his name as the Lion of Lannister, Jaime gave no care to the thoughts of any of those who mocked him. He would bound proudly through the keep, his child in his arms and counted their joking a source of honor. It meant that he was taking the best possible care of Galladon.
"They are simply envious that they have no children as perfect as my son." He would whisper into Galladon's ear, and kiss the boy's soft head.
It was on a lovely sun-filled morning when Jaime's time with Galladon was interrupted by a knock at the door. Brienne had left to see to her duties only a short time before, and father and son were just settling into a rousing session of bed linen changing. Jaime gave the babe a look of wide-eyed wonder as he scooped him from the pile of pillows in which he had been secured. Together they made their way to the entrance of the Lord Commander's quarters, discussing whom they thought might be calling upon them. It was a fairly one-sided conversation.
On the other side of the doorway, Ser Podrick Payne's face fell upon seeing that it was Jaime who answered. The young man's smile drew into a loathing scowl. "Oh." He huffed, peering over Jaime's shoulder into the apartment beyond. "Forgive me." Podrick seethed, refusing to voice Jaime's title. "I expected the Lord Commander would be here." Podrick's expression never broke of contempt. He had spent the last weeks making his anger and disdain quite clear to the man who had hurt his mentor and friend, Brienne of Tarth.
Jaime could not help but notice the scorn with which Podrick addressed him as he replied. "Ser Brienne has already left for the morning's review." Jaime told him, studying Pod with a dubious eye. "I would dare say she is by now in the yard." He reported.
Podrick nodded. "Very well." He said curtly. "I will speak to her there." There was no word of thanks as he turned stiffly on his heels and began to walk away.
Jaime had thought Podrick a worthy young man since he sent the lad along to aid Brienne in her quest to find Sansa Stark. He had felt him an admirable warrior when he saw how vehemently Podrick had fought at Winterfell. Jaime considered the youth a friend since he had seen how closely the boy regarded Brienne, and how diligently he protected her. Something within Jaime grew pained to think that through his actions he also had lost Podrick's good opinion.
"Is there something you want to say to me, Ser Podrick?" Jaime used the young knight's title in deference, but also to signal that no gap in rank stood between them. However, he could not keep his voice from rising defensively.
Podrick stretched himself to his full height, and looked the elder knight defiantly in the eye, unblinking. "There is plenty I would like to say to you Ser." He admitted. "None of it civil, so I shall hold my tongue." He said through a tightened jaw.
Jaime's eyebrow rose in unintended reflex. The truth was, he could not begrudge Podrick any assumption against his character. It was sure to be far kinder than what Jaime thought of himself. "Speak your mind." Jaime urged. "We are both knights, equal enough in rank not to hide behind false courtesies." Galladon wiggled at the sound of his father's voice, and nestled closer into Jaime's neck.
The sounds made by the babe brought a warmer look to Podrick's face, but softened his tone none, as he remembered what the child's mother had suffered in Ser Jaime's absence. Pod paused, considering his words. "You are a lucky man, Ser Jaime." Pod declared, his eyes narrowing.
Jaime shifted Galladon, a proud smile replacing his glare. "Yes. I am." He agreed.
"Lucky to be alive." Pod corrected, his expression showing no pleasantness.
"Yes." Jaime nodded. "The Gods spared me from the rubble, and have blessed me as well." He proclaimed, leaning his head against Galladon.
Podrick lifted his chin bravely. "It seems that way." He acknowledged, almost sullenly. "However, that is not the good fortune of which I speak." Pod's volume fell to a shallow drone. He swallowed hard, and hastened to his point. "The only thing that stopped me from riding you down and defending Ser Brienne's honor, when you left Winterfell, was my concern for her." Podrick recalled.
Jaime considered Podrick's meaning. His countenance fell, regretfully as he looked the young man unflinchingly in the eye. "I would have welcomed a death upon your steel." Jaime Lannister told Podrick solemnly. "It would have been a far easier end for me than knowing what I had done to her." His eyes were so filled with pain that Podrick almost felt sorry for the man. Against his will, the heat of his anger cooled a bit. Jaime Lannister was now far from the Kingslayer of legend.
Before Podrick could answer, their conversation was halted by a small group of guardsmen who snickered when they passed Ser Jaime Lannister standing in the Lord Commander's doorway, his arms laden with her child. From the elbow nudges and sideways looks the young knights gave each other, it appeared to be clearly known throughout the Keep that he was the babe's father. Jaime was glad of it, but he did not want to shame Brienne anymore than he already had.
"Perhaps such matters are not for public scrutiny." Jaime suggested to Podrick. He stepped aside and offered the King's Sworn Sword entrance to Brienne's apartments. "Come inside, so we may speak unguardedly." He bid.
Podrick bowed his head, giving Jaime more respect than he felt the elder man deserved. Any other time he would have scorned the request with disdain. However, he had waited long enough, and he was eager to impart to the great Kingslayer just what he now thought of him. Jaime closed the door behind them, and followed Podrick, willing to accept whatever judgement to be leveled upon him.
Pod cleared his throat and held his tongue while Jaime laid Galladon in the comfortable basket cradle in which he had discovered his son preferred to nap. After a moment he returned to address Ser Podrick Payne, a look of shame upon his face. Abandoning his usual restraint, and the social rules which determined the actions of guests, Pod spoke up vehemently.
"She stood in that freezing courtyard all night, waiting for you to come to your senses and return." Pod held Jaime in a steely gaze. "I found her as the dawn was breaking." He recalled bitterly. "The tears she had wept looked like glass upon her face." He described the memory with a mournful frown.
Jaime exhaled what little air was left in his lungs, and shook his head at the vision Podrick left in his brain. Pod continued undaunted, he had waited a long time to confront Jaime over what he had done to Brienne, and he would not stop until there was no more wrath left within him. "She was near frozen to the bone." He continued. "It is a gift from the Gods that she did not lose that babe before she even knew of him." Pod jutted his chin toward the cradle where Galladon slept.
"Podrick, I..." Jaime began hoarsely.
"You have no idea what she went through." Pod gritted his teeth as he spoke. "You did not check at her chamber door each night for weeks, only to have the sounds of her desperate sobbing assault your ears." He told Jaime contentiously. "You did not see the fear and worry shroud her face when she discovered that she carried your child." Podrick recounted. "You did not defend Ser Brienne's honor against those who would call her the Kingslayer's whore, or label her unborn child as the Kingslayer's Bastard." His angry breath came in spurts as he continued. "It was not you who paced the corridor outside her chamber as she labored in the birthing bed. You did not hear her screams as she brought your child into this world." Podrick indicted. "All of it should have been you, but it was not." He asserted. "When she needed you, you were not there." If Pod's eyes had been daggers, they would have cut Jaime in two.
In the face of Podrick's allegstions, Jaime did not appear the mighty lion his name would suggest. He stood broken before the young man who had more honor than Jaime felt he could dream of possessing. His shoulders slumped with the weight of his abandonment and neglect of the woman he loved. "I wish I could refute even one of your charges, Ser, but I cannot." Jaime told Pod shamefully. "All that you have said is true." He admitted. "It is my greatest disgrace." Said the man who had once killed his own king. "I have no defense which I may present to make myself appear a better man than the wretch who stands before you, my young friend." Jaime lamented. "All I can offer is a woefully piteous explanation." He raised his eyes to Podrick, hoping to be granted the chance to expound the reason he had left Brienne's side. Pod said nothing, Jaime took that as an opening, and began.
"When word was received at Winterfell that Cersei's troops had ambushed Daenarys's army, I realized that I had to return to Kings Landing." Jaime's voice was hollow as he remembered the day that knowledge had dawned upon him, that his hope for a future with Brienne was shattered.
Podrick snorted with contempt. "I suppose you were eager to hasten back in order to protect of your sister." He said with a bitter tone.
Jaime raised his head proudly at the reality of his true motives, however, the expression he wore was tinged with sorrow. He had no appreciation for the irony of it. "No. I did not return to Kings Landing to reunite with Cersei." He assured Podrick.
Pod eyed Jaime in disbelief. "What else would there have been for you there?" He inquired suspiciously.
Jaime ignored the question as if it were rhetorical. "You are aware of the grievous actions that have taken place on Cersei's orders, the murder of all but one of Robert's bastards, the destruction of the Great Sept of Baelor, the execution of Ned Stark himself." Jaime listed. "You have seen the things that woman was willing to do for what she thought was hers." His look was distant with hatred, as he remembered all she had done to him, all he had done for her. Podrick held his anger at bay as he listened. "I was her greatest possession." Jaime acknowledged, his face contorting in disgust. "A pawn to be set upon a board and used whenever she was in need of me." The pit in Jaime's stomach churned when he thought of those he had wronged in Cersei's name.
"But if you left her, to come North, surely it was clear you had intended to sever ties with her." Pod was still naive of the ways of the truly merciless.
Jaime gave a stifled chuckle. "No one ever simply ended their association with Cersei Lannister." He said. "You recall that Ser Bronn appeared at Winterfell after the battle?" Jaime asked. Podrick nodded. Jaime did not know why he should have been shocked that Cersei put a price on the heads of her brothers. He was also appalled at himself that he had not predicted her reaction. He should have known Cersei would make her attempts upon their lives. "He had accepted Cersei's bounty upon Lord Tyrion's life, and mine." He explained. Jaime thanked the Gods that Cersei had not included Brienne in her deadly plan, he feared that meant she had even more dire plans in store for the woman who had taken his heart from her.
It was several long moments before Podrick could react. He knew the Queen had been ruthless. There were many bodies in her wake. He could not fathom the evil it would require for anyone to order the death of their own siblings, especially one who had been the object of a professed love far greater than a brother. He felt his blood run cold. Jaime read his face as it drained of color.
"You know what that means." Jaime confirmed. "There was a very large possibility that Cersei would have defeated Daenarys Targaryen, and retained the Throne." He stated what Podrick already knew. "To where would she have turned her attentions next?" Jaime asked, his eyes leading Pod's thoughts.
"The North." Podrick answered as a chill ran through him.
Jaime nodded. "Yes, the only kingdom that had dared to challenge her." His voice filled with dread at what might have occurred. "You know the devastation suffered by the armies of the North after the battle with the Dead. The few who were left were marched south to meet their deaths at the hands of Cersei's forces." Jaime's jaw clenched to think of the lives which had been given in vain.
"Taking the North would have been effortless." Jaime shuttered, and paused as the image he described next tore at his heart.
"What do you think she would have done to Brienne?" He raised his pained eyes to Podrick and saw the understanding that took root in the boy's gut.
"She would have killed Ser Brienne." Podrick's voice faltered.
"She had seen the tension between us at the Dragon pit." He had been unable to control the longing in his gaze as he attempted to ignore the woman of whom he had dreamed for so long. Nor could he veil his concern for her. Jaime had tried to hide his desire under a cloak of anger. He had tried to show her contempt, but they both had known what their faces could not convey. He realized before the Dragon shepherding Daenarys Targaryen even landed that Cersei knew as well. "Of course she knew that my heart belonged to Brienne." Jaime said assuredly. "I went North." Jaime said lost in reliving the anticipation of his journey to Winterfell. "Of course she knew my desire was to stay, to stay with Brienne." He almost smiled, picturing the life for which he had yearned.
"You loved her." Podrick gave Jaime a compassionate frown. He remembered how difficult it been for Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne to part from each other when they left Kings Landing to find Sansa Stark, and again when he had allowed their escape from Riverrun.
"I love her still, Podrick." Jaime said softly. "With all of my heart and soul." He could almost feel Brienne there with him. His eyes implored Podrick to believe him as he confessed his selfless truth.
Jaime's voice was weak and defeated as he told of his true reasons for leaving Brienne. "I know Brienne assumes that I forsook her to return to a life with Cersei." He lamented. Podrick nodded sadly, an affirmative that Jaime did not need.
"My intention was never to return to my evil demon sister." Jaime assured, shaking his head with regret. "I went back to Kings Landing to kill Cersei." Jaime told his young friend, almost proudly.
Podrick eyes went wide at Jaime's confession, however the knowledge of Jaime's true purpose left him with more unanswered questions. "Why did you not tell Ser Brienne of this?" He implored.
Jaime's gave Podrick an obstinate stare. "Surely, you know why I could not tell her." He said with regret. "Why I had to hurt her." Tears threatened the rims of his eyelids as he finished, remembering Brienne's pain on the night he left.
Podrick nodded. "She would have followed you." He agreed, knowing Jaime fears were true.
"She would have followed me." Jaime echoed with the same dread as if it had actually happened. "To her death." Jaime acknowledged, ruefully.
Pod could not help but feel pity upon Jaime. The man had suffered long and hard, at the hands of his enemies, his evil vindictive sister, and all of Westeros itself to become more than his pseudonym would proclaim. He had slaughtered the Kingslayer, and redeemed himself. It had been a hard fought battle. Ser Jaime had found love, happiness, and a future. Only to sacrifice it all, and very nearly his life to ensure the safety of the woman to whom he owed it all.
With that realization, Podrick's anger left him. He now saw the depths of Ser Jaime's love and commitment to Ser Brienne. "You would have given your life to keep her safe?" Pod questioned, needing no answer.
"I would die a thousand times to give Brienne one moment of peace." Jaime vowed, his expression telling Podrick that in doing so, he would consider himself lucky in the giving.
"There is no peace within Ser Brienne since you left her." Podrick informed Jaime, sadly. "Not even her babe could take away all the pain." He confided, his gaze washing thoughtfully over Galladon.
Jaime's eyes questioned Pod. "But they are both of them alive. Did she not take comfort in that?" He winced.
"Of course she did." Podrick tried to ease Jaime's mind. "But there was always something missing. Whatever she wanted to portray to everyone else, I know her too well." Podrick declared. "There was always a shadow over her joy." He said solemnly. "You have no idea what you did to her." He charged.
Jaime straightened, and backed away a bit. "Oh believe me, Ser Podrick." He said dryly. "I certainly do." Jaime confirmed.
Podrick shook his head heavily. "You were so much more to her than just the man to whom she gave her maidhead." He reddened a bit at the intimacy of his indictment, but felt Ser Jaime needed to understand fully just what he had taken from Brienne.
Jaime eyed Podrick, almost fearfully. There was more, of which he was not aware. He understood that whatever Brienne's young protege had to impart would break him yet, again, but he wanted to know. He needed to know. Jaime breathed deeply the little air his lungs would allow him, and motioned for Podrick to continue.
Podrick sighed and rubbed his forehead, knowing he had already said too much to be silent now. "She would take my life if she knew I was telling you this." He shook his head, and began. "Ser Brienne is well aware that she has never been an example of what most would consider the feminine ideal." Pod described.
"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon." Jaime corrected, defensively.
"Have you always considered her so?" Pod challenged.
Jaime's gut clenched to think of how he had treated Brienne when first they had met. The terrible things he had said to her, about her. His own voice pained his ears, recalling how he had questioned Lady Catelyn as to whether her guard was man or woman. He had called the woman he now adored ugly. Jaime had long since known that he had loved Brienne even then, yet still he had treated her abominably. Such was his crazed devotion to his sister, and he hated himself for it.
"I was angry. I had been held as hostage by the Starks." Jaime tried to justify his actions. "It was before I truly knew her, before I fell in love with her." The words with which he had addressed Brienne would tear at his soul even in his grave.
Podrick nodded. He knew how Jaime's vision of Brienne had changed as his heart had slowly become hers. "You were far from the only one." He said sadly. "When she was a girl, her father threw a grand ball in her honor." He recounted the story Brienne had told him, when they traveled together. "The boys threw themselves at her feet. They fought each other to dance with her." His face grew melancholy imagining how a girlish Brienne of Tarth must have had her head turned by the attention.
Jaime puffed proudly. "She should be celebrated in such a fashion." He admired. "She must have felt very special." He wished he had been there.
Podrick's expression was much more dire than his description of Brienne's past. "I am sure she did, for a while." He agreed. "Until she realized it was all a farce." He lamented. "She saw them laughing, calling her 'Brienne the Beauty' behind her back. Mocking her." Podrick said, his jaw clenching with anger. Jaime had known that some called Brienne by that name, and that it was not a proud one for her. He had never known from where it had began.
Jaime's ire matched Pod's as he imagined her heartbreak. "If I had been there, I would have torn them all limb from limb." He swore.
"No you would not have." Podrick almost appreciated Jaime's imagined protectiveness. "Think of yourself then, Ser." He bid. "You were a Golden Lion, already an honored knight. You had your sister." He shamed Jaime with the memory. "You did not know Lady Brienne. You certainly did not love her. You would have had no use for Lord Selwyn's daughter. Your laughter would have been the loudest in the room." He charged, and then stared at Jaime hatefully. "She heard that laughter, the night you rode through the gates at Winterfell." Podrick spoke venomously.
Jaime seemed to shrink before Podrick's eyes as the weight of his words sunk beneath his skin. He knew that he himself had hurt Brienne worse than any of those mean spirited boys at the ball. They had never kissed her, never bed her or taken her maidenhead. They had never spent a glorious moon in her arms, or spoken words to her of a future together. She had not birthed any of them a child. They had never left her.
Podrick continued as regret melted the fire in Jaime's eyes. "You and her father are the only men in her life who have ever bothered to look past the surface." The bitterness in his voice chilled Jaime even further.
"That is why my betrayal of her was the worst of all." Jaime choked. Podrick's silence was his affirmative. "It is not a wonder she refuses to allow me to speak of it, to try to make amends." Jaime spoke as if to himself, his gaze was distant as he thought of the pain that held Brienne's heart in a vice of his making. "It will now surely take a miracle from the Gods themselves to soften her emotions toward me." Jaime hung his head in shame.
Pod nodded solemnly. "What can I do?" He offered, suddenly wanting to champion Jaime's cause.
Jaime raised his eyes to him earnestly, his face at once hopeful and anxious. "Help me, Podrick." Jaime said, weakly. "Help me win her back." He begged.
The gentle showers which had seen Brienne's departure for the morning had become a strong steady torrent by the afternoon. The skies darkened and promised even more severe weather to come. Several times, Galladon was rousted from his slumber by threatening cascades of thunder, which brought forth even louder cries from the startled babe. Throughout the day Jaime would rock his dear son back to a peaceful sleep as only a father can. As the hours mounted, he fretted that Brienne would catch her death as she reviewed her troops in the training yard, amidst the pouring rain.
As it was, the Lord Cammander of the Kingsguard was in-fact soaked through and chilled to the bone by the time she arrived back at her apartments that evening. Jaime could not bear to see her shivering, and longed for the warmth of their chambers at Winterfell in which to soothe her. Upon her entrance, Jaime sprang to assist Brienne in removing her armor, drenched beneath as her garments were. However, Brienne hastily retreated from him.
"Please allow me to draw you a hot bath." Jaime begged, eager to please her.
Caring for Galladon was one thing. Brienne did not wish to take anything from Jaime, even a kindness, and attempted to protest. He would not hear of it. She stiffened reflexively as he took her by the shoulders and walked her toward the hearth. "I will be but a few moments." Jaime told her anxiously. "Warm yourself by the fire." He bid.
Brienne watched powerless as he disappeared into her bedchamber to prepare the tub for her. She would not have admitted it to him, but a bath sounded wonderful, and the heat from the fire wrapped around her freezing bones like a thick quilt. In spite of herself, she thought how nice it was to have someone take care of her.
Galladon happily greeted his mother with babbling attempts to speak as he propped himself upon his belly somewhere between lying and sitting in the basket cradle. Brienne's face gleamed with motherly joy. "Hello my Sweetling." She grinned. "Have you had a nice day with your fath..." She caught herself, not willing to finish her thought. Of course, Galladon was Jaime's son. Everyone knew that. Despite her best efforts to keep his paternity a secret, it was painfully obvious. She had not realized how natural it had become to think of Jaime in that role, how easily the reference would spring from her lips. She took a settling breath, and continued. It was best Galladon hear it from her. "Have you enjoyed your day with your father?" She could not help but smile at the wide eyes and high pitched coo the babe gave as an answer.
After a short time, Jaime returned to the precious scene of Brienne's adoring gaze upon their child. She had continued her engrossing conversation with Galladon, and both mother and son were thoroughly enjoying sharing the news of the day. Jaime stopped just short of interrupting them so that he might enjoy the sight that greeted his eyes. It took his breath away. The woman he loved, treasuring the child she had given him, that he had given her. He could have watched them forever. How he longed for his presence there to be more than just a convenience.
"Oh." Brienne startled as she threw her head back in giddy laughter, and noticed Jaime standing in the small hallway that led from her chamber. "Is it ready?" She inquired about her bath.
Jaime straightened and tried to force his face to returned to seriousness. "It is." He nodded, moving slowly into the parlor.
Brienne lowered her eyes bashfully. "Would you mind watching him a little while longer?" She asked hopefully.
Jaime smiled. "I would not dream of taking my leave until you are comfortable." He assured her. "Caring for my son is never a burden." He assured her with an endearing and thoughtful look. Brienne bent to kiss Galladon's head and then made haste to her bedchamber. He could not tell whether the gaze with which she regarded him was resentful or remorseful. He watched her leave as he had the night of the feast, after the battle at Winterfell. This time he did not follow. He had no right.
It was sometime until Brienne rejoined Jaime and Galladon in the parlor. She had not meant to be so leisurely with her time, but the bath Jaime had prepared for her was exactly the way she preferred it. She wondered if he remembered the long sultry baths they had shared in the North. A good deal of her absence was due to the memories of just those pleasures. She felt guilty upon her return, and her face was slightly flushed with embarrassment.
Jaime thought she was a vision when she appeared in the doorway. Lost in her, it took a moment for him to realize that she had clothed herself in the same black robe she wore when she caught him the courtyard, leaving her. The breath froze in his lungs at the memory. Finally, he understood that with Brienne's practical nature, she must have had but the one. He wished it might have been anything else she had chosen to outfit herself. The painful memory of that last night together beckoned him from the shadows of time. Even now, she was as forlornly majestic as she had been that night. His heart nearly broke all over again. Brienne seemed to take no notice of Jaime's remembrance. Certainly she had donned that same dressing gown on other evenings hence, perhap even the night she had birthed their son.
"Forgive me." Brienne spoke, flustered, as she left the bedchamber. "I did not mean to take so..." she halted when she saw what Jaime had been up to as she bathed. Beside the hearth was set a small table laid with steaming bowls of meat and potatoes. A loaf of hard bread had been sliced, along with a small wheel of cheese. A pitcher of wine finished the meal.
Jaime looked up from setting out a plate for Brienne and smiled. "I hope you do not mind." He said softly. "I took the liberty of having your dinner sent up." He stepped back and offered her his small but thoughtful gift.
Brienne shook her head. "That was very kind of you." She smiled appreciatively, although still a bit warily. "I do not mind. Thank you." She acknowledged, and joined him beside the table.
Jaime stared at her for a long moment. There was nothing he would not do to comfort her. He would leave her in peace this night, satisfied that she was warm and fed. "I will go." He bowed. "Enjoy your dinner." He told her, sweetly.
Suddenly, Brienne could not bear the thought of watching him leave. It seemed that was to be her lot, always saying goodbye to him, never keeping him. The sound of the heavy driving rain broke into her thoughts, somehow making the night seem deeper, darker. She did not wish to be alone. She did not want to be without him. Perhaps, just this once with Galladon as witness and a table of dinner between them, it would be safe.
Brienne looked over her shoulder at the window, streaked with tiny rivers of water. "It is pouring out there. You'll be nothing but mud by the time you reach the Hand's Tower." She described logically, halting against the urgency of her thoughts. "You could stay." She offered, nervously. "Uh, until the rain stops." She stammered. "Join me...for dinner?" Brienne asked. Jaime thought there might have been a note of hopefulness in her voice. "There is far too much for me to eat by myself." She tried to laugh, but her nerves made it seem more like a fitful sigh. She hid her racing heart behind a shy smile.
Although his own heart was bursting with excitement, and his brain was striding ahead of him with possibilities, Jaime simply accepted Brienne's suggestion graciously. "I would be delighted." He agreed.
The evening was pleasant, and the conversation light. Brienne and Jaime spoke mostly of Galladon, and of the happenings in Kings Landing. No mention was made of the past, although it hung heavy between them as usual. Once their meal was finished, Brienne nursed the babe beneath the same light quilt which always hid her form from Jaime, when she fed their child in front of him. He sat silent by the fire, trying not to study her intently, and simply enjoying her company. He reflected upon the darkened hours they had spent by the fire in the North, hungry for other delicacies beside the food that had been served them. Those times had ended in passionate embraces, sweet warm kisses, and love making beneath the furs. Although, he knew tonight would end with only courtesies, Jaime could not help but hope for the future.
With Galladon finally full, and dozing in Brienne's arms, Jaime turned his complete attention to her. At last he was able to study the soft angles of her features, washed in the firelight, as she gazed enthralled at their child. The contented expression that rested upon her face comforted not only Galladon, but Jaime as well. As if she had forgotten he was there, Brienne began to whisper a gentle lullaby to the child. Jaime could not place the melody, and wondered if it were some ancient Tarthian hymn she had learned when she was but a babe herself.
The warmth, the music, the soft light from the hearth, all overtook Jaime's senses. Nowhere in all the world could have ever pleased a soul as much as he was fulfilled at that moment. All he saw was Brienne, and all he knew was his love for her. His thoughts traveled to when he had knighted her. He had never seen anything so remarkable as she. Her happiness radiated from her like a shining star. It was that beacon to which he held fast during that long night. As long as he was by her side, he knew all would be well. Feeling the swell of hope once more, he forgot himself, and spoke more candidly than he perhaps had any right to.
"By the Gods, you are beautiful." Jaime sighed, admiringly.
Brienne raised her shocked eyes to him, pained as though he had slapped her across the face. "Why would say that to me?" She asked, stricken.
Jaime stared dumbfounded at her. He could almost see her heart shattering. His words had been meant as the highest compliment. "What?" He answered uncertaintly, the pit of his stomach hallowing at her fallen expression . "I..." He hesitated, trying to comprehend the insult he had apparently given. She did not let him finish.
Brienne's face drained of color as she stared at him, indignantly. "You choose the most hateful word ever spoken to describe me?" She asked, rhetorically, the breath seeping visibly from her lungs.
"Hateful?" Jaime repeated. "No." He stammered, desperate to correct his blunder. "I meant only to praise you, from my very heart." He swore to her.
Brienne cast her eyes to the floor. "I am not beautiful, Jaime." She told him, a large heavy tear escaping her closing lids, and falling to her lap.
Jaime sat, visibly shaken. "You are to me." He told her softly. "The most beautiful being I have ever beheld." He said in awe.
Brienne shook her head. "I do not like that word." She explained, her voice halting with the hurt of memories. "It has never been used to refer to me with kindness." She confessed. Unable to face Jaime any longer, Brienne nearly jumped from her chair and walked a few paces away. She stood with her back to him in ominous silence. Galladon still rested in her arms, but Jaime could tell her thoughts were many years in the past.
Jaime could not speak. He recalled the story Podrick had imparted to him, about the disastrous ball, given in her honor, which became what he could only imagine one of the most heinous events in anyone's experience. Brienne had been so devestated, that even the word which they had stolen from her, was a trauma. He rose reverently, and followed close behind her, wanting only to make amends for his grievous error.
Jaime longed to take Brienne in his arms and kiss away all of the pain she had ever suffered, much of which he had caused. His arms ached for the feel of her. His lips had starved for her taste. His body reacted to her presence and the desire within him. For a long moment, he stood only a hair's breadth from Brienne, intoxicated by her.
Brienne could not hold Jaime responsible for causing her discomfort. She had never told him how that word so affected her. She had not spoken of those painful injuries inflicted upon her own image of what she was. How could she have woven such a tale for the likes of him? He was the very epitome of the word, beautiful, and so was the only other woman with whom he ever shared his passions. His sister had been the embodiment of perfection, just like him. Who was she, Brienne of Tarth, tall, awkward, course? Who was she to ever dare dream herself able to hold his affections? How could she have been so foolish as to imagine a future together? Yet, here he was with her, and she cradled their child in her embrace. Could it really be a dream she could hold in her hands?
Brienne was keenly aware that Jaime stood behind her. She could almost hear his heart beating. His breath was hot upon her neck. It played amidst the tendrils of her hair, and sent an uncontrollable shudder down her spine. Was that his hand at her waist? Were those his lips that grazed softly against the flesh of her neck? She felt herself falling back against him, her legs weak, her eyes closing to savor his nearness, the air sighing from her chest. He was all she wanted. Then as quickly as she had succumbed to her longing, in a momentary flash of clarity, she stopped herself from becoming lost any further in his enticing silent promises. Brienne pulled herself away from him. Somehow, it felt even more lonely than that moon shrouded night in the North, after he had gone. Unable to face him, she could not force herself to turn. Brienne could not bear either the passion or reproach she feared would be in his eyes.
When at last he spoke, his voice was calm, determined, and filled with love. "Please believe me, my intent was to portray you with the only depiction that came to my mind." He confessed. "However, as I now understand your enmity for the word, I shall endeavor to find every other description I can think of..." He paused, longing to complete the path he had begun, and lay his kiss behind her ear. With a low lusty tone, he continued, "...exquisite, ethereal, alluring." He swallowed hard, overcome with desire for her. "Lovely." He finished, drawing even closer to her.
Feeling Jaime move against her, Brienne bolted from him as if his touch had shocked her. She stiffened, not wanting to trust him and unable to trust herself. She could not do this again. She gasped loudly, and searched for a reason for distance between them. "I believe the rain is letting up." She said, flustered, uncertain if it were factual or not. "You will surely have a clear path back to the Tower of the Hand." She informed Jaime, embarrassed at the coldness of her word. At last pivoting in his direction, Brienne was still unable to look him in the eye. "And I should be putting Galladon down to bed." She offered, hoping her motherly concern would hold at bay any protests he could wage. Her brow furrowed with deep dread.
Jaime understood. He stepped back from Brienne allowing the formality of space between them. He nodded, but his voice was dry as he answered. "Perhaps you are correct, Lord Commander." He straightened and tried to regard her formally, hoping it would ease her embarrassment. He stood silent, tracing Galladon's tiny fingers with his own. "Until the morrow, My Lady." He offered, his tone swearing the vow she would not accept from him this night. Turning with regal chivalry, he hid the disappointment which threatened to weigh his every step, and saw himself to the door.
The sound of the thick oak closing behind him was was cold and brutal to Jaime's ears. The thought of leaving Brienne and Galladon clawed at his insides. He had bid them fairwell for the evening each day since he had been given charge of caring for his own son. This night, however, was far too much like that moonlit midnight at Winterfell, when he had wrenched himself from the arms of the woman he loved, and broken her heart. How could he have been such a fool? How could he ever have her back now? Jaime let his forehead fall against the carved panel that separated him from those he loved. He pressed his left palm tightly to the door. He could almost feel her on the other side. Jaime closed his eyes, remorsefully. Brienne's very essence seemed to float through the wood and caress his skin.
The empty resonance of the door closing as Jaime left her chambers pounded in Brienne's ears. She took a faltering step, wanting to go after him. Her tears fell as she forced control of herself. Instead of running to him, and declaring her true feelings, she walked stiffly to the doorway. Her mind barely registered her movement as she crossed the room. Each time she watched him depart felt like his leaving at Winterfell all over again. With Galladon sleeping in her arms, she reached her free hand toward the door and rested it upon the smooth wood. She imagined she could feel him on the other side as she leaned her head against the cold solid board. "Oh, Jaime." Brienne whispered mournfully, unable to stop her tears from falling freely any longer.
A few days following the stormy-night conversation with Brienne, during one of his festive jaunts with Galladon, Jaime became aware of a sentiment even more vile than the jokes cast at his expense. Having just completed a late morning turn around the garden promenade, his son drowsing contentedly in his arms, Jaime chanced to pass by a group of the King's soldiers lounging against a gateway. He ignored his old instinct to order the men back to their duties, and turned his attentions instead to delivering his hungry young charge to Brienne for their mid-day meal. Before he made his way around the boisterous group, who were as usual, snickering their doubts as to his manliness, the turn of a phrase caught his ear.
"Kingslayer's Whore! " Echoed across the distance between Jaime and the men. It was followed almost immediately by the words, "Kingslayer's Bastard." The tone in which the epithets were spoken halted Jaime in his tracks. It was clear the subject of their laughter was not merely him, but Brienne and Galladon as well.
Apparently, oblivious to the volume of their insults, the soldiers were unaware when Jaime turned to regard them hatefully. The one who had just spoken whirled his head from one of his companions to the other, enjoying their encouraging laughter. Jaime could see quite clearly the young man that had just uttered the contemptuous comments. With long greasy hair, thin pale skin, and rat-like features, the perpetrator who was perhaps only slightly older than Podrick would be easily recognizable. Jaime committed the face to memory. He would need it later.
That very afternoon, Jaime stormed into Tyrion's solar. "Where is my golden hand?" He bellowed, shaking his brother from his concentration of a mountain of parchments.
"What?" Tyrion questioned, looking up annoyed.
"My hand!" Jaime repeated, even more agitated. "You retrieved my sword." Jaime arugued. "Surely you saved my… appendage!" He declared logically.
Tyrion set down his quill slowly, and studied Jaime with a furrowed brow. "I thought you did not want that any longer." He answered.
Jaime shook his head. "Want it? No!" He shot back, heatedly. "Have use of it? Most definitely!" He declared, venom in his voice.
Tyrion slid down from his chair, and stepped around his desk. "I thought you wanted no reminders of…" He paused, not wanting to the speak the name of the benefactor who had commissioned and gifted the gold hand to Jaime. "…Our sister." He mumbled, lowering his eyes.
Jaime paused, and looked urgently at Tyrion. "Believe me, Tyrion." He attempted to speak calmly. "If my reasons were not of the utmost importance, I would never wish to look upon that thing again." He confided. "As it is, occurrences have put me in need of it." His eyes all but begged.
Tyrion sighed. It was clear that whatever was plaguing Jaime's mind, he would not accept anything but the return of the item in question. Tyrion was sure, his brother would tear his solar apart to find it. With a loud, long, exhale and a roll of his eyes, he trod heavily to the chest which stood at the side of the room. Jaime stood back hopefully, watching his brother pull a long chain from the neck of his doublet upon which hung a key.
Reluctantly, Tyrion unlocked the door of the ornately carved cabinet and rummaged for something it held inside. Within a few moments, he returned to Jaime carrying a familiarly shaped velvet bag. Tyrion could not look at up as he pulled the dented and now misshapen golden ornament from the bag. Jaime's own stomach turned with memories as Tyrion handed it to him.
Jaime grabbed the object almost greedily. "Thank you." He said earnestly, and raced from the room, leaving a dumbfounded Tyrion in his wake.
Jaime's searing anger grew with each step as he searched for the man he had noted that afternoon. The hateful sneers that had been hurled at Brienne and Galladon from the mouth of the smug guard swirled mockingly in Jaime's brain. The golden hand that had once been a part of him, hung limp at his side. Jaime had searched through the every part of the Red Keep frequented by the young soldiers in the King's service. He was determined to seek the culprit if he were forced to search throughout the night. He determined that would not be necessary when he found the young man in the barracks.
The soldier stood with his back to the door organizing his gear atop a narrow bunk. It was clear the man was not expecting to be confront about his remarks of earlier that day. Without hesitation, Jaime approached him. In one quick motion, he reached and grabbed the culprit's boney shoulder. Before the man could react, Jaime spun him around and slammed his golden hand into the vile mouth that had insulted the ones he loved. Shocked and nearly knocked unconscious, the guard stumbled backward a few paces, his eyes finally focusing on Jaime before he fell to his knees. The heavy flow of blood and saliva spilled down the man's tunic as several of his teeth skittered along the floorboard.
Jaime stared at him with hatred and vengeance flashing in his eyes. "Disparage the Lord Commander or my son again, and it shall be more than your teeth rolling on the ground." He swore, vehemently.
Jaime's glare washed threateningly over the other young men in the room. "That goes for all of you." He promised them. For a long moment, Jaime stared them down, awaiting any who wished to challenge him. It was not the first time he had defended Brienne's honor with the back of his metal hand. Jaime felt invincible when it was she he was championing. The guards simply stared at him in shock. While most were not above jesting in secret at Brienne's expense, none were willing to wager their necks challenging Jaime Lannister. They did not move as he turned, undaunted, and walked commandingly from the barracks.
—
His breath was just returning to Jaime, as the sweet fulfillment of retribution began to calm his heartbeat. He had defended Brienne's honor, and declared Galladon's paternity, and had made his intentions very clear. With a satisfied sigh, he closed his eyes, lifted his head to the sky, and centered himself before ripping the dreadful golden cast from his arm. Undeterred, Jaime made hast to the forge, where he found the smith still hard at work at his anvil.
"My Good Man!" Jaime declared as he entered the filthy sweltering building in which the smith stood hammering a sword into shape. The fire burned red in the pit as Jaime demanded the craftsman's attention. In disgust, he threw the hand into the dirt at the burly man's feet. "Melt down this monsterosity."Jaime ordered. "Use the gold to buy bread for the innocents outside these walls." He instructed, his eyes traveling along the unseen distant boundaries of The Keep. "I care not what becomes of it." He asserted, before turning and walking into the cool fresh late evening air. Filling his lungs with the robust chill of the approaching night, Jaime felt as if nothing was impossible, even winning back the heart of the woman he loved.