Three times Brienne thought she was about to die, and the one time she had no idea.
One month into King Jon's Reign
Whitestar tower is the highest point of Evenfall. She remembers reciting this to her horrible Septa mechanically, like a forced prayer, as she gave her best pitch for Tarth. It overlooks the rocky East Shore.
If four year old Brienne had been in lessons with the horrible Septa on the day that Galldon drown, she might have seen the waves capsize her brother's skif from the terrace where she now stood. If you could call it a terrace, just a semicircle about four feet wide, with a guardrail that came up to the crest of her hip. The same exact place on her body that Jaime's hand used to migrate instinctively. She looked back into the room. The basket settled in the middle of the table wiggled slightly and Brienne tore her hands from the railing and made her way back inside. The baby was still asleep, wrapped soundly in his red and gold blanket, little lions and stars embroidered across it. She swallowed hard. She'd left a note in his cradle for Janali, telling her where to find him. She'd made sure that a guard would patrol through this area within the hour.
"I'm so sorry Brightstar." She whispered to the baby, tucking the blanket a little tighter around him. "So sorry."
On his chest she'd left a letter for her father, begging his forgiveness, begging him to send the boy to Tyrion and Sansa. In a letter to Tyrion she wrote simply.
Raise him as Jaime would have. Make sure he knew how loved he was. Apologize to him for my being so weak. I couldn't fake it one more day. Not one more day.
She'd crossed Widow's Wail and Oathkeeper over one another beside him on the table, and returned to the balcony.
Jaime. She almost thought she said it outloud for a minute, and maybe the wind had just carried it away. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
She wondered if he'd be angry with her. If he'd be disappointed, she thought of the way he dropped his head when he was disappointed. How his mouth would twist just a little, maybe he'd kick his boot at the dirt. She also knew if anyone would understand it would be Jaime. She remembered telling him once as he tried to die that he had to live to get revendge. Who on earth was left for her to get revenge on? Cersei was dead, the Dragon Queen was dead.
Jaime was dead.
She'd let Jaime die. She hadn't been there. She hadn't protected him.
And for that, King Jon wanted to make her Lord Fucking Commander.
She pressed her hands against the railing for a second, trying to decide how to do it. It didn't really matter, she knew that, but the deep rational side of her brain wanted a plan. Wanted to figure the best way.
How diligent of you.
"Piss off." She whispered back a the memory, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She turned back and looked at the baby again."Your father was insufferable." The infant's eyes opened, Jaime's eyes. They blinked at her trustingly. "Constant with the japes, always ready with his quips."
Who would tell him about Jaime? Tyrion? Would he be able to remember the way his eyes crinkled around the edges when he was trying not to laugh at her? Would he remember to tell him about their grandfather's lions in their cages under Casterly Rock?
She pulled out a pen and started tried to remember every story Jaime Lannister had ever told her, and some she'd learned from others. She didn't look up until the door swung open with more than a little ferocity and Janali's worried eyes met hers.
"My Lady-." Her eyes darted from the baby, to the open balcony doors, to Brienne. The blonde swallowed hard, pressing her lips together tightly.
Brienne pushed an unruly lock off of her forehead and looked down at the papers, her lips parted softly.
"Janali, have I ever told you how I met Jaime Lannister?" The other woman shook her head slowly, Brienne absently pointed her head toward the other chair at the table.
"Is it a romantic story?" The brunette asked carefully.
"Absolutely." She told the other woman blankly.
Two Years into King Jon's Reign.
Brienne's throat is raw, the groan that rips from it felt like broken shards of glass. She presses her teeth together as tightly as she can until her jaw spasms and she pulls it back open with a yelp. Jaime's hand cards through her sweat soaked hair in even soothing strokes and she clutches at his shirt and mewls at him.
His eyes settle into hers and she can see her fear in his face. He runs his teeth over his top lip and looks at Gilly. She can't hear what they're saying anymore, but she can tell by Jaime's wince it's not reassuring.
He drops his head down to hers and kissed her temple.
"You're so strong." She can feel his breath against her ear as she pants out a few breaths beneath the fog. "You're stronger than me. I know you can do this. I know it's hard and I know it hurts and you're exhausted; but my love, you fought the dead. You beat the Hound in single combat. You staved off a hungry bear with a wooden sword."
Her body twists and clenches and writhes against itself and her fingers clutch at the back of her knees with such ferocity she draws blood. It leaves marks like the bear claws against her collarbone.
"That's it." He tells her steadily, his voice a low growl. "Just like that. Just a little more." She gasps out a whimper as she drops back against him. Her head shaking from left to right against his shoulder, leaving it damp with sweat and tears. "You can. I promise you, you can." He tells her softly, in a calm even voice like she's not about to die. She can feel her body getting heavier, she can feel the light in the room start to fade. "Breathe Darling." He reminds her and she sucks in a ragged gasp before her body pressed forward. "Yes! Just like that! Again! Magnificent… you're magnificent."
She sags back against him and the world swims in and out of focus. They repeat this, what feels like a hundred more times. "You would have beat me on that bridge, my love." He whispers in her ear. She almost responds to him then, her forehead wrinkling at his admission, but the pain takes any response away and she's pushing again, her hand comes loose from her knee and grasps wildly until he finds it with his. "I knew it then. Even then."
The chaos of the room has increased and she presses her exhausted face into Jaime's neck and sobs. It does not occur to her that she is not the only one in the room crying.
"A boy." He says softly. "I told you that you could." His hand breaks away from where he's cradling her face and she whimpers at the loss of contact. He moves behind her, dragging them both up and the next thing she knows she's looking at a tiny pink baby who looks just as stunned as she.
"A boy?" She looks at the little thing in the crook of Jaime's good arm and it's wild eyes focus on hers, they are the same crystal blue.
"Mm.." Jaime hums, tilting him towards her again. "He's got your eyes."
She breathes slowly, her foggy brain starting to clear as she reached up and caressed the baby's cheek with her finger.
"Did you mean it?" She asks him, distractedly blinking at the baby in front of her like she just can't comprehend that it's hers.
"These are undeniably your eyes." Her husband sniffs.
"No.." She exhales softly, glancing at him before her eyes slipped back to the babe. "He's alright?"
"He's perfect." Jaime breathed kissing her forehead again.
"No.. about beating you." She can feel the side of her mouth quirk outward and it's almost like she's reentering her body; her sore, tired, sweaty body. She can feel his eyes on her, and in her peripheral vision his mouth slips into a wry grin.
"I have no idea what your talking about, My Darling." He sighs. "You're obviously delirious from the pain and exertion."
"Obviously." She hums back at him.
"Look at him." Jaime says softly. "He's perfect."
"He is." She agrees. "It's a good thing too, because I'm never doing that again."
"You'll change your mind." He sighs.
"I won't."
"You will." He tells her with a certainty she can't fathom after what they've just been through. "But if you don't, that's alright too."
She nods in his general direction before settling back into his arms as the Maesters and Midwives mill around the room doing what needs to be done. She closes her eyes and he kisses her brow again.
"Sleep." He tells her.
"Jaime?" She murmurs, her fingers still tracing the edges of the little boy's face even as she starts to drift.
"Humm?" He's easing her back against the pillows.
"Thank you." She grabs the sleeve of his right arm as it slides out from behind her head.
"For what?" She forces her eyes open and looks at him.
"Keeping me here." She tells him seriously and he furrows his brow before smiling at her in confusion.
"Sleep, Love."
11 years into King Jon's Reign.
(Essos.)
Jaime whimpers in his sleep from his spot next to her and Brienne raises her hand shakily to stroke his face.
"He'll need you." She tells the other woman in the room in a raspy whisper. "Tell me you'll stay with him? You and Tyrion. Please."
"It won't do any good." She tells her honestly, her foot tapping on the leg of the desk she's perched on top of.
"It will." She swallows and looks at the younger girl sternly, her red watery eyes narrowing.
"It won't." She blinked. "He'll roll over and die if you do."
"He won't do that to our boys." She hisses. "He won't."
Arya continues to stare at her, her face passive.
"Tyrion will take him to Winterfell, you'll need to go. He'll need you both."
"You really have given up." Arya sneered at her.
"I'm dying. Not talking about it doesn't make it not true." Brienne returns her gaze to her husband as he shutters. "Preparations have to be made."
"How very diligent of you." Arya whispers, turning her head away to study the flap of the tent.
Brienne's eyes slip back up to her with a start.
"You sound like Jaime."
"Disappointed?" She asks, her head tilting back towards her.
"Do you think I want this?" Brienne winces.
"All I know is if I had children, a husband, a family hanging in the balance, I sure as hell wouldn't just give up and die."
Her voice is the same as it always is, but for a second Brienne sees the wide eyed girl she once was behind the assassins mask. The girl who lost the family that she loved. She watches the memory of that bob up and down in Arya's throat.
"I'm trying." She pleads at her, her shoulders sagging.
"Are you? I can't tell with all this talk of death and dying."
"What would you have me do?" Brienne pulled in a ragged breath. "As I lie here staring death in the face."
The young woman's face snaps back to Brienne's and she narrows her wide eyes at her, leaning forward with almost deadly glee.
"Tell it, not today." Arya she whispers sharply.
Brienne finds herself nodding, despite the fact that the whole idea that this is within her control is a falsehood. The Stranger will either take her or he won't, but something in the way Arya is looking at her makes her believe for just a second that she has a choice.
She holds the girls eyes, wrapping her fingers tightly in Jaime's and she breathes the way Sam Tarly instructed her. In-two-three-four. Out-two-three-four. And she repeats that, over and over until she can't keep her eyes open anymore.
Twenty Years into the Reign of King Jon
Part one (Brienne)
It was entirely stupid and if she had been paying any mind, she would not have ended up in this mess. They'd been on a fact finding endeavor. A boring, fact finding endeavor regarding bandits. Common fucking bandits.
Brienne of Tarth had fought Clegans, Undead, Whitewalkers and a fucking bear, but some common woodland bandits with a well placed spear? That is almost beneath her.
That's what Brienne is thinking as she's thrown from her horse and lays staring at the sky, her vision blurring. Pod is on her in a second, armor is being peeled away and he's shouting at people just out of her vision.
"Holy Fuck." She hears Ser Addam hiss over Podrick's shoulder. "Don't pull it out."
"Don't pull it out?" Pod scoffs, reaching to a spot just over her head..
"No. Don't fucking pull it out." Jaime's childhood friend growls at him angrily, yanking him back just a little. Brienne wants to say something biting, but she can't seem to draw in enough air to say anything at all. The Commander of the City Watch slides out of her view and returns with a bag and starts shoving strips of torn cloth at her.
"We can't just leave it in there. Can we?" Pod asks absently.
"It will help with the bleeding. Hold her still." She feels white hot fire down her side, feels Pods knee press against her other shoulder holding her down to the ground.
"Hold Still Ser." He tells her tersely. "Hold very still."
Addam is shouting orders at her men as well as his own. She almost tells him to stand down, but she can barely see him now. Large spots invade her field of vision and Pod is now gently holding her hand.
"It's going to be alright." He says softly. Addam presses harder and it makes her gag. More white bolts of pain as Addam curses again and they roll her onto her side and she vomits onto the ground.
"We have to get her out of here." Podrick tells Marbrand urgently.
"We shouldn't move her." Addam growls. "Until the bleeding's controlled."
Bleeding. She thinks absently. She is bleeding. She abruptly turns her head back towards where Addam hovers and she can see the puddle of red dirt at his feet. A field of red spray across his leather boots and the greave of his armor. Her blood.
"How the fuck are we supposed to get this controlled?" Pod hisses back at him.
"Pod." She breathes. "Language."
"Sorry M'Lady." He says without thinking and Marbrand snorts.
"We can't carry her." Addam shakes his head. "Not without making it worse."
"She's going to bleed out." Pod says with a shake of his head. "If we just sit here."
Addam looks over it again, wincing.
"We bind it. The best we can. Pack it tight and make a litter. We can carry her back to Lions Gate. We'll send my fastest rider ahead for the Maester."
Pod looks stricken.
"It's her best chance." Addam shakes his head.
In that moment it occurs to Brienne that they think she is going to die.
Jaime. She thinks suddenly. How stupid that she's going to die now, so far away from Jaime. How stupid she's spent so much time away from Jaime in general. She hadn't seen him in months. She'd wasted months.
The night before he had taken Cat to Tarth to be with Ren and Ty he'd practically begged her to come with him. The soft passive hints he'd been giving her for months, years actually, had turned into a a quiet plea.
"I'm getting old Brienne." He'd sighed into the darkness between them in their bed as he stroked the side of her face. "Too old to be days rides apart. Too old to sleep more nights away from you than with you." He'd confessed that he'd picked Tarth over Casterly in hopes that it would temp her away from King's Landing. It was closer to Tomsyl at the Citadel and Lyanna at Storms End. He thought he could tempt her away from the King's Guard with their family, her home.
"You're sixty three." She'd moaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. "I think you may have a few years in you yet, Love."
He'd smiled at her gently, the light from the window catching how it hadn't reached his eyes.
"I made a vow." She'd told him, as if it was obvious.
"So many vows." He'd told her sadly, pulling her closer to him and pressing his lips to her forehead.
How had she put this vow so far a head of the others? Was it more sacred then the one she'd made her husband? The man who saved her virtue when she was still a stranger? Who saved her from a bear? Who'd come North to fight the dead beside her? Who made her a mother? Who had loved her so soundly, in spite of herself? Was it stronger than the vow she'd made to her children after she'd struggled to push them from the depths of her body? The vow she'd made to Sansa, or to Catelyn, or to Renly before them?
Surely she would never choose a vow of duty over vows of love? Over Jaime. How had she not seen it when she can see it so clearly now as her mind swings in and out of consciousness? How Jaime Lannister had spent his entire life wanting to be chosen and Brienne had kept him just as much second place as Cersei had?
They roll her onto a litter and just as they go to raise her she grasps at the edges of Podrick's White Cloak and she whispers desperately..
"Podrick tell, Jaime.." She presses her lips together. "Tell him, I'm so sorry."
"You'll tell him yourself, My Lad-."
"Tell him I never meant to put him second. I've never loved him less. I never meant to-."
"He knows that." Her former squire smiled down at her a man grown; married, a father, whose son was now a squire himself. "He knows."
"Remind him." She whispers breathlessly. "Tell him, I didn't realize.."
Her voice trails off and her world went black.
…..
The pain returns and she figures that means she's still alive. She tries to move without moaning, but it's not possible and she hears chair legs scrape and footsteps grow close as she tries to force her eyelids apart.
"Careful now." Comes the soft familiar scold. "You're hurt."
"Jaime.." Her voice sounds thick and far away.
"Brienne." He sighs adjusting the pillows and pressing a wet cloth to her lips.
"How are you here?" She tries to calculate the number of days lost that his being here equates to.
"I was here before you, actually." He tells her, his lips touching at her temple. "Your son dropped me off, on his way to take my daughter to Dorne."
She winces and coos at his mention of Dorne and daughters; because even half awake and in pain, she knows that haunts him and she can see the way he smiles at her lovingly for it.
"Ren is hardly ever my son." She sighs. "You tend to keep him."
"Yes well. I suppose he can be mine again, since his stubbornness forced me to be here with you now instead of across the water; frantic at the reception of a raven saying you've been grievously wounded."
"Grievously?"
"It's quiet bad, Love." He tells her softly, brushing back strands of hair that had come loose from the braid it had been in. "Tell me something?" He lifted an eye brow at her and she blinked. "I remember my King's Guard Armor coming with somewhat bulbous pauldrons that would, lets say keep one from being skewered through the shoulder by a spear. Was that lost in some aesthetic redesign?"
"Don't mock me Ser, I'm injured." She sighed. "Grievously, apparently."
"If Addam hadn't been there you'd have died." He told her honestly, his eyes soft. "Pod would have pulled the spear out, and you would have bled to death on the Goldroad." She bit her lip and he continued brushing at her hair. "There is damage, to the muscle and the bone. Your hand is blessedly pink and warm and you'll move it when forced." He smiled as her her fingers of her left hand spread carefully before she hissed and let it go slack again. "But you'll loose range of motion." She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, glancing away from him to think about what that would be like."It's your left arm Brienne. It's going to be fine. You'll be back in your White Cloak before you know it. This time I do hope you'd wear the paludronds."
He smiles at her so resolutely, so sadly, with certainty that her fears are of not being able to fulfill her job duties. As if this, like so many other near misses and life hurtles that lay behind them, is just another thing to be cast into the pile as she returned to the White Sword Tower.
She wonders briefly how Jaime can forgive her for leaving him to deal with that pile.
"You know what I thought of?" She asks him quietly, her right arm coming and squeezing his elbow. "While I lay there, bleeding all over the Goldroad?"
"That you should have taken the time to put on the pauldrons." His voice is low as he nods, like this is the clear answer. She winces at him her fingers loosing before climbing down his wrist until his hand is in hers.
"All the time I missed." She swallows. "How many times you've tried to tell me.." Brienne pressed her lip tight between her teeth and he made a soft comforting noise, and she turns her face into his throat. "I want to go home." He freezes for a quick minute before she feels him swallow roughly. "Take me home."
"You very nearly died today." He tells her calmly. "I'm not going to have you making decisions like this now." He ducks his chin and kisses her temple. "But if after you've recovered a little more, if you still want to go to Tarth-."
She pulls back from him shaking her head slowly.
"I said home." She tells him and she can see the longing in his eyes and she wonders how she's ever denied him this. It was the place they'd been the most like a family. The place where they had been the Lannisters. "To the Rock."
"If you still want to go to.." he swallows. "To Casterly.." She watches him nod carefully. "We'll go."
"I won't change my mind." She murmurs as he tucks his body back close to hers, easing beside her on the bed careful to curl around the immobilized hunk of space taken up by her injured shoulder.
"It's alright if you do."
"It's alright if you don't believe me." She tells him sleepily.
"I didn't say that." He presses a kiss to her cheek. "You should rest. Sam will be here soon to poke at you." She hums in irritation.
"Tell me about the lions." She requests with a sigh.
"Ah yes, the lions, Tytos Lannister's lions." He hummed at her. "When we were little, we used to sneak down and toss things into their cages. Our cousins always threatened to toss Tyrion, and he'd hid behind my legs and clutch at my breaches." He snorted with laughter and she smiled, feeling the pull of sleep. He regales her with tales of lion related near death experiences, and when he's sure she's nodded off she hears him whisper. "They were sad beasts really. You shouldn't cage a lion. Or a lioness."
Brienne thinks that she'll have to prove to him that she's ready to for a little less freedom.