Riding along the road to Duskendale mid-morning, Brienne felt her horse go lame. She pulled up, spent ten minutes leading the animal around trying to figure out which leg it was favouring, then another five trying to prise out the small but obviously sharp stone that had embedded itself under the horse's shoe. Steelshanks was noticeably impatient with the delay.

'We don't have a spare horse, M'Lady,' he said. 'If yours can't be ridden, then go sit in the wagon with the injured. We have no more time to waste.'

You'd like that, Brienne thought. Having the woman who refuses to act like one be relegated to sitting in the cripple's wagon. Leaving the men, the real soldiers, riding together up front, telling war stories and comparing the size of their balls. She gave up wrangling the stubbon stone and put down the hoof, watched the horse refuse to put weight on it. Damn horses. I never have any luck with them.

Jaime rode over to her and dismounted. 'Take mine,' he said. 'I don't mind sitting in the wagon for a while. I could do with stretching out for a day or so.'

Brienne eyed him, doubtful. 'What's wrong with your mount that you're offering it to me? Does it buck?'

'Why does everything I do have to be under such suspicion?' Jaime replied. 'He's a pack animal we picked up from some villagers, but a good horse for all that. An honest if somewhat plain-looking creature. You'll get along with him fine, wench.'

She ignored his jibe and took the reins of the horse. It was nice of him to give it up, she supposed. But since when does Jaime Lannister do anything that doesn't directly benefit Jaime Lannister? As Brienne tied her lame horse to the other horse's saddle-horn and swung herself up, and as Jaime headed off towards the wagon, she couldn't help thinking that what was in the wagon was the real reason behind his unexpected chivalry.

That girl is going to be trouble.

They rode without stopping for the rest of the day. Brienne let the packhorse lag behind the others, to give herself space to think, and not have to make conversation with men she suspected laughed about her behind her back. Nothing new there, but even after a lifetime of it I need a break sometimes, she decided.

She let her mind drift to something Roose Bolton had told her, before she'd left Harrenhal. Had Arya Stark really been located, as he claimed, and was she waiting with Sansa at the Capital, to be exchanged for the Kingslayer? As much as Roose had saved Brienne from whatever Locke and his men had planned, she didn't really trust the man one iota.

She remembered the first time Roose had ridden up to them, as Locke's men trawled the river relentlessly for the missing Jaime, and she herself was tied to a tree. She'd been tied there for two days and nights, as Locke hadn't stopped searching for the real prize ever since it had slipped tantalisingly through his fingers. Ever since Jaime had dropped his sword, took two running steps and dived head-first over the side of that bridge. Who'd have thought anyone would even attempt that? Especially wearing manacles.

The drop was maybe fifty feet, Brienne estimated, into swirling rapids. He must have been exhausted from our fight too, it was a foolishly impulsive thing to do. She remembered how Jaime had told her to jump with him, but wearing full armour she knew she'd have sunk. Instead she'd lunged to try and stop him, but he was too quick. The last thing he'd said to her was, 'Tell them we're in love.'

It was absurd, she thought, heat rising in her cheeks at the memory. I hadn't known what he meant. We despised each other. Locke's men could see we'd been fighting. The whole idea was ridiculous. But during a lull in the search one evening, when the ex-Dothraki, Zollo, had approached her and she'd run out of options, she had found herself blurting the words out. Locke sitting nearby listened to her attempts to convince him the Kingslayer would pay a reward for her return. Undamaged.

Maybe Locke didn't quite believe it, who would? but it bought her a little bit of time for one night, and then the next morning Roose had shown up unexpectedly, and she didn't need to worry about Zollo any more. At least, not until she saw him again yesterday, facing off with Jaime while she took down Locke behind him. She smiled. Revenge really does feel as good as everyone says it does.

Brienne's thoughts went back to that evening by the river with Locke's men, even though it still made her cringe. I didn't use Jaime's exact words. I didn't say we were in love. She'd said they were 'special friends', which was both idiotic and embarrassing, and Locke's men had predictably almost wet themselves laughing when she'd said it. But there was no way she could use the word 'love' in regards to Jaime Lannister, even as a lie to save herself. It was just... impossible.

She hadn't been their main focus anyway. Locke had been a man obsessed. He'd split up his men and combed both banks up and down the river all night, for miles, then resorted to diving into the water at daybreak and looking for bodies. Brienne hadn't thought she'd care one way or another if they pulled the Kingslayer dead from the river, but she'd found herself holding her breath every time one of the men surfaced, dreading that they'd have found his drowned corpse. You didn't expect to care about his well-being, but somehow he got to you. Life is full of surprises.

Then when Roose had arrived, he'd called off the hunt. Wherever Jaime was by then, it obviously wasn't in the river. And so Brienne had found herself sent off to Kingslanding with Steelshanks and his entourage. She had hoped more than honestly believed that Jaime would also find his way back, somehow. He'd made the same vow to Lady Stark as Brienne had, and as long as he was alive she intended on tracking him down and holding him to it.

The funny thing was when she had seen him again, Brienne had not even recognised him. The man she saw galloping through the trees on a mission to save some poor victim of injustice, unshackled, fearless, his long gold hair flying out behind him, was like a true Knight in shining armour from legend.

The Kingslayer I knew was a thin and unkempt wretch, covered in filth and weakened from months of imprisonment. I'd bested him in a fight, just, that day on the bridge. But then yesterday, to fight alongside him against Locke's men... Brienne mulled over the scene in her head. Although having a fair idea of his sword skills, having grown up hearing about them endlessly; still, to witness them in real life was something else. She was glad this time they were fighting on the same side. Not that she would ever, in a thousand years, let on to Jaime that she had been impressed.

He doesn't need any more fawning admiration. He's had it in spades since he was sixteen, when he was made the youngest ever member of the Kingsguard, an honour I had to endure countless taunts and struggles to finally achieve, against every hardship. And then he betrayed that honour, as if it meant nothing. No, the Kingslayer doesn't need my praise.

Besides, the new version of Jaime Lannister still aggravated her. Don't fool yourself, she thought. He's still the same shit-for-honour smart-arse he always was. He hasn't changed that much.

Brienne realised she'd fallen way behind the rest of the party. The packhorse jogged and turned its head to look at her, as if requesting permission to catch up. She gave it a pat. 'You're a smart horse. And not even plain-looking. The Kingslayer doesn't know good-looking when he sees it.' Then she gave the horse its head and they cantered up to the others.

It was night, and Brienne sat across from Steelshanks and Jaime, as they finished off the last of a flask of wine after supper. The air was cold away from the fire, and even though she was tired, Brienne was reluctant to leave the warmth for her sleeping blankets.

Jaime poured her another cup of wine, and she took it gratefully.

Steelshanks and his men had already filled Jaime in on everything he'd missed while being held captive, most importantly Stannis' defeat at KingsLanding, and Joffrey's wedding plan changes. Jaime's reaction to all the news had been reserved; maybe he was just trying to process everything all at once. When he heard Tyrion was married to Sansa Stark, he did smile a little. 'He'll like that,' he'd said.

He was wearing clean clothes and had washed himself in the creek running behind their camp. His hair was still damp and his skin shone. Despite trying not to, Brienne couldn't stop glancing at him. He has that effect on people, she noticed. If Jaime is around, he commands attention, by virtue of some kind of effortless, compelling quality he doesn't even deserve. She sipped her wine, forced her eyes away from him and stared into the flames instead.

'So.' Steelshanks said in his gruff voice, giving Jaime a knowing leer. 'How was your day in the wagon?'

Jaime didn't react to the insinuation. He yawned. 'Boring.'

'Your little commoner friend not much of a conversationalist then?'

'Not on however much milk of the poppy that Maester has doped her up with. She didn't even know I was there. I had a new bow to give her, she lost her old one. But she didn't even wake all day.'

'I'm sure she'll perk up. What's the story with you and her, anyway?'

'There's no story. We were travelling together and... that's it.'

'Well you're a better man than me, Jaime. I can never travel long with women without wanting to fuck them or kill them. Or both.'

Jaime looked over at Brienne. 'You listening, wench? You're still alive, I think Steelshanks fancies you.'

Brienne rolled her eyes as Steelshanks guffawed. 'I think our Maid of Tarth here would kill me first. Anyhow. I'm off to bed. See you two in the morning.' He belched, drained his cup and set it down on the ground, before heading into the darkness.

Brienne waited until he'd gone, then gave Jaime a look. 'You know what was refreshing? Not being called 'wench' for two whole weeks.'

He raised his cup. 'It was refreshing not being called Kingslayer for a while, either. Here's to us.'

'Was it worth it?' Brienne asked.

'Was what worth what?'

'Not being called the Kingslayer for a while. Was it worth it when she found out?'

Jaime threw the dregs of his wine into the fire and watched it sizzle. He took a long stick and broke apart one of the logs so that the dying flames leapt up.

'Don't give me grief about this, alright? It has nothing to do with you. But since you ask, what she did or didn't call me wasn't the only part that was refreshing. And yes. It was worth it.'

Brienne gulped down her drink. 'That's nice. But I wouldn't be so eager to give her a bow and arrow. You'll be the first one killed with it.'

'She's not going to kill me with a bow and arrow, wench, please.' Jaime pulled a face. 'Her aim was terrible even when she had both eyes.'

I refuse to find humour in someone else's misfortune, Briene told herself sternly. But her mouth twitched.

'You can laugh, you know. She would have,' Jaime said, catching her almost-smile.

'Robberta,' Brienne said.

Jaime cocked an eyebrow.

'She gave that as her name. To Qyburn.'

'Oh. Really? Robberta, huh.'

'Yep.'

Jaime considered this a moment. 'How did he get that out of her?'

'He just... asked her. And she told him.'

'Well it's definitely not her name then. I asked her numerous times and she never told me.'

'Maybe she just didn't like you enough.'

'Oh, she liked me enough.' Jaime smirked.

Brienne narrowed her eyes. 'I know you lied to Steelshanks just before. About nothing happening between you two.'

Jaime didn't reply, stirred the fire.

Brienne watched him carefully. 'Poor thing doesn't know what she's doing or saying. Her head's all a mess.'

'I'll straighten things out with her,' Jaime said. 'She can rest up and then... We just need to talk. Sort everything out.'

'Sort out what 'everything?' I realise you feel responsible for her injuries, and if you... if she's...' Brienne blushed at the indelicate subject matter but ploughed on, 'If she's with child, then Qyburn can probably do something about that.'

Jaime was silent.

'So what else is there to sort out?' Brienne persisted.

'Everything,' Jaime said, ambiguously.

'Dear gods. I hope you're not planning something stupid because your cock led you astray.'

Jaime chuckled. 'As much as I love hearing you say cock; no offence, but maybe you aren't the best person to be giving me advice on such matters.'

'Actually, I'm exactly who should be. I don't have one, so therefore I can see clearly, and you can't.'

'Thank you for your heart-felt concern as to my welfare, but I can assure you it's unnecessary.'

'It's not your welfare I'm concerned about.'

'You think I won't look after her? I'm going to look after her, she's going to get a nice, safe job in the Capital that doesn't involve traipsing around the countryside on horseback risking getting raped or mutilated every minute, so relax.'

Brienne contemplated him for a moment. 'That's a very kind thing you're doing, organising a job for a poor common girl with no skills beyond smuggling. I didn't know you had such a charitable heart.'

'She can't do her delivery work any longer, her horse died. So. She has to do something else.'

'Her horse died? When?'

'Yesterday. Up around the corner of that ridge you came over, when you surprised Locke.'

'I didn't see any dead horse.'

Jaime poked the fire so as to avoid her gaze. 'It was probably further down. Regardless. We couldn't have taken it with us, anyway. The thing would have killed all our grooms at the Royal stables. It was seriously unfriendly.'

'Why would the girl's horse have been... kept at the Royal stables?'

When Jaime again refused to answer, Brienne felt her frustration rise. 'Excuse my cynicism, but does this nice, safe job in KingsLanding you have lined up have less to do with making amends to someone you've wronged, and more to do with keeping her close for your own personal use?

Jaime expression was equal parts guilty and smug. 'I never said I was a saint.'

'No, and you mustn't be too clever either.' Brienne scowled at his lack of foresight. His whole life he's used to getting his own way because of who he is. He thinks he owns the damn world. 'Renly used to talk about your family sometimes. He said the only difference between them and a nest of vipers was that vipers aren't as poisonous. Why didn't you just leave her to Locke and his men? Don't you think that's kinder than what your family will do to her when they find out about her dalliance with you?'

'Better than you,' Jaime said. 'I don't plan for them to find out anything.'

'I thought you'd changed, ' Brienne shook her head. 'Grown up, learned restraint and compassion. But you haven't have you, Kingslayer? You're still stupidly impulsive, and you still only really care about yourself.'

'You don't know the first thing about me. I'm not who you think I am. But,' Jaime tossed the branch into the fire, 'I could care less what you or anyone like you thinks of me.'

'That would be all well and good if your lack of care only affected yourself. Listen to me,' Brienne sat forward and regarded him gravely. 'Let the girl go outside the Capital. Let her go home.'

When Jaime looked at her his eyes glowed red in the flames. 'No-one's going to hurt her. Ever again. And she's not going anywhere. So back off, wench. You're not leading me around on a chain any more.'

Brienne sculled the rest of her wine and got up. 'Unfortunately.' She left him sitting there, and walked off into the night.