I swear
the air softened and warmed as she moved,
the blue sky smiling, none too soon,
with the small shy mouth of a new moon. - Demeter, Carol Ann Duffy
The summer was not yet over. After what had felt an age spent in that dank room, Jaime was surprised to see how blue the sky was, and how warm the breeze. It pulled gently through her hair like Caesare's fingers, but that was an age ago. Now she knew the sunlight would not last forever, and she closed her eyes to relish the warmth of it on her face.
A sharp tug on her chains made her stumble. Ah yes, my strong protector.
"Keep walking."
He did not grant her more than a cursory glance, to ensure that she was moving again, before he turned away and continued trudging on.
"Are these manacles really necessary?" Jaime complained, shaking them experimentally and watching the birds flee from the bush nearest her. If I were a bird, I could fly back to Caesare, back to my children.
"You will wear them, Kingslayer."
"So you intend to fight off all possible adversaries alone, then, maester eunuch?" He wore a slim sword across his back, but she doubted he could use it.
"My name is Bryn."
"And mine is Jaime, not Kingslayer."
"Do you deny you slew a King?"
Just one? You underestimate me.
"No. Do you deny you are a eunuch?"
"Yes!"
"I am not convinced. Perhaps if you slipped out of that robe and showed me, I would be more inclined to believe you." Jaime teased, but she met only sullen silence. Is he really so afraid of me?
She had met men like this before, of course. They were the ones who seemed to cringe away from her gaze, but could not help their own eyes wandering when they thought she could not see. The septons were the worst; a whore was an affront to Maiden and Mother both, and they shied away from her as though her mere touch would corrupt them.
And what use does a eunuch have for a whore? He does not know what to do with me.
"You are of noble birth, I take it?" She prompted.
"My father is Selwyn Tarth, by the grace of the gods Lord of Evenfall."
"Tarth… some great rock in the Narrow Sea if I remember right. You must be a second son at least if your father has allowed you to wear a chain, or has he simply given up on heirs completely?"
"I have an elder brother, Galladon. What I do not have is the patience for your prattle. Do be quiet."
"I am sick of quiet. I have had nothing but quiet for weeks."
"And I have nothing to say to a monster."
Jaime gasped. "A monster? Does it hide in the trees? Good grief, and here I am a blushing lady with no-one to protect me but you." She threw her hand to her forehead in mock terror, but the maester only tugged on her chains once again, forcing her hands forward.
"One who would bear her brother's children, kill her king, and claim the throne for her bastards is no lady."
"Perhaps not, but I am more a woman than you are a man, am I not maester eunuch?"
"My name is Bryn."
"What should you care what a monster calls you?"
"My name is Bryn." He repeated. Does he work at being so dull, or is it a natural gift?
"Maester Bryn, then. Did you ever think to be Ser Bryn? No I imagine not; the weight of the armour alone would probably crush you. Could you lift a lance, do you think? I hope all the men on Tarth are not like you, or I pity the women. They must never know what real men are, stuck between rocks and ocean."
"Tarth is beautiful. They call it the Sapphire Isle. Now be quiet, Kingslayer, or I will be forced to gag you."
"Now that was rude. But at least you are honest, I suppose. I do admire honesty in a person."
Bryn offered no reply, and Jaime lapsed into silence. Since he was evidently going to offer her nothing more by way of conversation (and what a terrible loss that is), Jaime amused herself by watching the light dances off the waters of the Trident, flowing full and fast now that Autumn was approaching. They were shielded from the river by a line of trees, but through the branches Jaime glimpsed fishermen in their boats, and she wondered how many of them were finding bodies as well as fish in the dark blue water. The Red Fork was not as busy as it ought to have been; the war had taken its toll on the Riverlands, and Jaime wondered whether the people of King's Landing would look as hollow and as frightened as the few villagers they encountered on the road.
Once, they passed a group of women washing their clothes in the river, their children playing noisily nearby. If the women noticed the strange pair they did not show it, but the children stopped to gape at them with wide eyes. Starved and dirty as they were, Jaime could not help but see her own children in their faces, and she picked up her pace.
The majority of the villages were burnt out shells, so it was not surprising to find the blackened skeleton of an inn. What made Jaime stop in her tracks were the corpses hung from an oak on the riverbank. Now that she stood directly beneath them, she wondered how the stench did not warn her long before, but the sweet, ripe smell of death hung heavy in the air all too often along the banks of the Trident.
The women swung gently in the breeze, thin rope cutting into their swollen necks. Bryn's grasp on Jaime's chains had turned his knuckles white, and the usually full lines of his mouth were thin with rage.
"We'll have to cut them down." He said, dropping Jaime's chains to pull himself onto the lowest branch. She was surprised by the ease with which he pulled himself up amongst the leaves. He is stronger than I thought, I must remember that.
"And what do you propose we do with them once we've cut them down?" Jaime shouted up at him, "Bury them? If you have a couple of spades hidden in those robes then very well, but otherwise I think our options are somewhat limited. There are bound to be men out looking for us by now, and if we stop here they will surely catch up with us."
Stubborn as ever, Bryn unsheathed his knife and cut the lowest woman free. The smell intensified as the body crumpled to the ground, and the flies swarmed ever thicker.
"I'll leave no innocents to be food for crows," he insisted. Jaime had to admire his conviction, but they lost precious minutes as he hacked the ropes hanging from ever higher branches.
"But look there," Jaime pointed to the crude sign hanging around the neck of the highest corpse. "They Lay With Lions. Do these dead whores really deserve your effort? After all, it was Stark men who did this."
"These were likely no more than tavern wenches, and they are victims of this war as much as anyone."
"So a whore during wartime is a victim, but when there is peace she is a monster?"
"You mistake me." Bryn did not look at her as he continued sawing the bodies free. "I do not think you a monster because you were King Robert's whore. Many women are whores, both good and bad; it is not in itself a monstrous thing. People call you a whore, but in doing so they forget that you are a murderess who has taken her brother to her bed."
That surprised her.
"I'm flattered, Bryn; I'd much rather be remembered for Aerys than for Robert. There are a great many whores in this world but only I may call myself Kingslayer."
She was spared what she was sure would have been a surly and boring answer by the sound of coarse shouting drifting around the bend in the road. Northmen. I told him this would happen.
Bryn dropped down beside her, staring along the path towards the voices. Jaime watched his eyes. Pretty eyes, she thought, and calm. She knew what fear looked like, but there was no trace of it in Bryn's face. He is determined, not desperate.
They had to be close, now, the voices were growing louder, and they could hear the clank of the men's armour. Bryn seemed to come to a decision, striding across the path to the large oak that stood across from the hanging women.
"Stay here." Bryn ordered, grabbing hold of one of the lower branches and swinging himself up. He did not go far before he was hidden amongst the dense leaves.
"Now take my hand."
A thin hand poked down out of the foliage and Jaime frowned; she was not a large woman, but there was no way this shrunken thing could take her weight.
"You cannot pull me up."
"Just do it."
Reluctantly, Jaime reached up and took the frail hand, almost afraid to grip it lest the bird-like bones break beneath her fingers. Another hand came down to grip her wrist, and Jaime let him take her weight for a second before bracing her legs against the trunk of the tree and scrambling up after him. The chains on her wrists made it difficult to pull herself up, but Bryn's grip was surprisingly firm, and it was mere seconds before she was perched beside him. Together, they climbed until they were hidden amongst the high branches, peering through the leaves to see the men approach the corpses lying on the ground.
They did not linger long, but Jaime felt her heart hammering all the same. There was a thrill in her blood, one that she had not felt in so long, and she felt like laughing as the Stark men passed on beneath them. She looked over at Bryn, still and stony beside her, who let out a great breath; she could see his hands shaking where they gripped the branches.
I could push him down now, and he'd never get up again. It would be easy. I'd be free.
But even as the thought entered her head, Bryn was faltering; his robe had caught in the branches beneath him and he wobbled dangerously. Without so much as a thought, Jaime's hand shot out to grasp his arm, steading him as she unwound the hem of the robe from the errant branches.
Bryn's eyes were wide with shock when he turned to her.
"Thank you," he said simply.
"You ought to get some more practical travelling clothes." Jaime jumped to the ground, landing hard and feeling the jolt through her bones.
"You're stronger than I expected," she admitted grudgingly as he took up her chains again.
"I'm as strong as I can be. I suffered from a wasting condition as a child; it prevents me from developing much muscle, but I do what I can."
There was something queer about him then that reminded her of Tyrion. Her brother had spent a lonely childhood; his stunted legs preventing him from playing with the other children. He would try, though, and she had spent hours each night massaging his cramped and crooked muscles as he wept pitifully. Perhaps it was that which prompted her to say,
"You did well, then. Thank you."
"I need none of your thanks. I swore an oath to bring you safe to King's Landing."
"And you actually mean to keep it?" Jaime gave him her brightest smile, "Now there's a wonder."