Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews!
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Thursday, 12 August 1813
King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros
Dear Brienne,
They found them! Jon and Jaime are alive. The Lord Commander has told Tyrion that, and only that. No one knows anything more. I have just arrived in King's Landing this moment, Tyrion's first words were to tell me our men are alive. I wanted to waste no time writing you, for I know you have been as oppressed by terror and grief as I. As soon as I know anything more, I will send another raven.
I shall spend a few days here with Tyrion before continuing my journey to Tarth, for I have missed him, and also in case more communication arrives regarding our lost soldiers.
In the interest of exercise, I have done quite a bit of walking beside the carriage, when we had need to rest the horses, and am feeling quite fit. Please let me know that no enterprising pirate had had a lucky day and managed to lay you low; you know how I worry, dear.
Fondly,
Princess Daenerys Targaryen
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Saturday, 24 July 1813
Meereen, Lhazar, Essos
Your Highness,
Please forgive my presumption to write to you in place of Major Lannister. I bear the grave news that he has suffered a terrible wound in a recent battle and is no longer able to write you with his own hand, having lost it to a Dothraki's sword several weeks past. He has tried to dictate to me some responses to various points included in your most recent letter, but he has been fevered and much of what he says does not make sense. Or rather it makes even less sense than usual. He can be a very silly man, sometimes, as I'm sure you're well aware.
He begs your forgiveness for the delay in communication. He had been in receipt of your letter— the news of your compromised health was intensely distressing to he who loves you best. He begs you to take utmost care and refrain from any activities that might cause a relapse in exhaustion or weakness— but was unavoidably detained from responding due to an attack upon our camp.
It caused many of us to be separated and go into hiding in villages around Meereen until our injured were well enough to travel again. Our adoption of local costume was instrumental in our survival, and how fortunate I inherited my father's Northern coloring! I was fortunately able to leave our hiding spot for food, medicine, and bandages as needed. It took us some while to make our way back to Meereen since we could only travel at night, and slowly, in deference to wounds incurred.
Perhaps you will be gladdened to know that I personally killed the Dothraki who maimed Major Lannister. I beg you to forgive me a second time, for sharing such a bloodthirsty sentiment, but knowing of the extent of your affections for your fiancé, as well as your own somewhat martial outlook and abilities, I feel certain you will share my compulsion and satisfaction to have avenged the major.
Prior to Major Lannister's injury, he honored me by sharing his eagerness to return to Westeros, his goal of wedding his beloved foremost always in his mind. He appears to view his new position as Duke of the Westerlands as no more valuable than whatever power it gives him to affect your marriage, but I am relieved to be able to employ his name and rank on his behalf in the interest of sending him home from Essos to your devoted arms. It is far easier to make generals and admirals pay attention when a letter is signed by a duke than by a mere captain, and an illegitimate one at that.
Major Lannister has awoken, now, and insists I tell you that he thinks and dreams of you constantly, that the recollection of your astonishing eyes is all that tethers him to this world when he might otherwise have left it, defeated by grief and despair. I have rarely seen a man so ardently attached to the one he loves, and it is edifying to witness it, if slightly sick-making. I beg him daily to keep his expressions of devotion to himself, but so far he remains deaf to my pleas. I cannot much blame him, however, since I have some experience in being gripped by a similar passion, and indeed often find myself at the mercy of certain fond remembrances.
He bids me write of his gratitude for the drawings of you and your dear friend. I also wish to express my admiration for not only the excellent likenesses by their talented artists but the subjects as well. Your dear friend looks quite well, and much happier than the last time I saw her, for which I am very glad. The recollection of that last unmerciful morning has become my most unwelcome memory, and I keenly anticipate a time when I can replace it.
Now Major Lannister is commanding me to include some description of our surroundings, since you (and here I quote him) "have nagged him like a fishwife" to write more about it. Currently we are in a musty-smelling tent of stained canvas that permits no air to flow through it, rendering its interior stuffy beyond endurance, while still encouraging every insect within a league to enter and feast upon us.
The landscape is a barren and bleak one. The ground is very flat for many leagues, and then will rise in a sudden steep mountain striped with red and white clay. There are few trees, fewer bushes, and no flowers. Buildings are constructed of mud bricks made from, yes, the same red dust that plagues us, with slanting walls and flat roofs. There are no coverings over windows, and only occasionally doors fashioned from wood imported at costly expense from other, more forested regions. Every corner is drifted in red dust to the height of a foot or more.
It is beastly hot, and a fierce wind blows without cease. We bathe twice daily but each time the water runs a rusty gray from the dust that, as I believe the major has expressed, gets into every last part of a body. I think I speak for both of us when I say that if we ever see this peninsula again in this or any future lifetime, it will be a millennium too soon.
The inhabitants of the area tend to darkness of skin, hair, and eyes, and as mentioned earlier, I have enjoyed more success than the major in immersing myself among them when such is beneficial to our needs. I am quite brown from the sun, now, and feel certain you would have a hard time recognizing me if I were to present myself in the long robes and turban worn by the Ghiscari and Lhazari men of the area.
With a somewhat effusive, but still richly deserved, amount of fervency and adoration,
Major Lord Jaime Lannister, Duke of the Westerlands
via the hand of
Captain Jon Snow
P.S. Major Lannister wants me to inform you that he does not endorse the extremely amusing parts of this letter that you will be able to tell are my own invention, rather than his, since they invariably use him as their deserving target.
P.P.S. No drawing of us this time, as neither of us are fit to be viewed and indeed our appearances would likely alarm rather than please you. I believe we will have recovered sufficiently by the next letter, so do expect some sketch to be forthcoming. In the meanwhile, we have had Bronn draw himself, which is enclosed. Please be aware that he is only marginally as handsome as represented. We would not like to lose your or our dear friend's affections because your head was turned by a rogue with impossibly good looks (which he does not actually possess).
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Saturday, 14 August 1813
King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros
Dear Brienne,
Enclosed is a small-copied letter of what I have just received from Jon, forwarded on from Casterly Rock by Robb. Knowing you so well, and that you want Jaime to have your response as soon as possible, I have taken the liberty of already writing and sending your reply so as to not have to wait for a raven to fly to Tarth and back again. A copy of that is enclosed here as well.
I am so very sorry, my dearest friend. I weep each time I think of how he is suffering. But he is still alive, Brienne, and so very strong and brave. If there is a man alive who can overcome such an injury, it is Jaime.
I am cutting short my stay here to proceed on to Tarth, knowing you will need me with you there, and leave tomorrow at first light, to arrive within a fortnight.
With eagerness to see you again, and all my affection and compassion,
Princess Daenerys Targaryen
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Thursday, 12 August 1813
King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros
My Dearest, My Adored, My Most Treasured,
I have been despondent to read of your injury, absolutely inconsolable. The agony I feel on your behalf, to think of your suffering, is unbearable. And to be so far from you, unable to provide care and assure you of my continued devotion despite your disfigurement, is torment as well. However much you think these words describe my anguish, I beg you to treble it, and it will only approach half of my distress.
How relieved I am that you have Captain Snow at your side, if it cannot be me! Yes, I am very glad to hear about how that Dothraki was compensated for his crime. Please communicate to the captain my fervent hope that he made it a very slow and painful end, as well as my most forceful thanks.
Our dear friend has expressed a lack of surprise at Captain Snow's actions, both in repaying the Dothraki his offense and in remaining by your side, even writing such a clever and amusing letter on your behalf. She has always been aware of the captain's immense capacity for loyalty, justice, and kindness. You can have no better comrade while there than he, nor he, you. She was very happy, as was I, to read the captain's narrative about your location. We were both amused at how superior he is to you at painting a picture with words; we have a very clear idea of what the area is like, now. You have many talents, Jaime, but description is obviously not one of them.
"Nagged you like a fishwife" indeed… I shall make you pay for that slander, beloved, be sure of it.
I write this just prior to continuing on my journey to Tarth on the morrow. After so long a silence, such was the extent of my concern for you, and frustration to be so far from you, that I longed for our dear friend's companionship and solace. Also, I will be able to see you much sooner there than if you were to travel all the way to Casterly Rock. Our friend does very well, incidentally; though it is pirate season, she deftly employs the sword we gifted her for the purpose, and they haven't the slightest chance of success. Indeed, she has gained quite the reputation among them, if the captured ones can be trusted to tell true tales. He who loves her best should hasten back with all speed, lest he find Her Excellency lured away by a rakish pirate captain in his absence.
No, upon second thought, I cannot imagine her a pirate's wife. She would be the captain herself, and a better, more rakish one would not be found. Alas that women cannot be soldiers or sailors, for she would make the finest of either, I am confident you will agree.
Do not fear I will make myself unwell again, for I am committed to regaining my strength and remaining as healthy as can be. Your letters have rekindled in me a desire to live long by your side. I am traveling by carriage, with my maid and Podrick to coddle me. He has fitted the carriage with enough cushions and blankets and furs to put a sultan to the blush; I could not be more at ease if I were back in Casterly Rock in my favorite chair by the fire. The only place I could be safer or more comfortable is your arms. I miss you so much more than I could have believed, and I was already sure I would miss you a great deal.
Your letter was kindly forwarded by Robb from Casterly Rock to King's Landing. Upon reading it— and the others, which I do daily— I might outwardly seem to be calm, but my heart beats through my entire body and is conscious only of you. I belong to you, there is no other way of expressing it, and even that is not nearly strong enough.
From this point forward, direct all correspondence— and your own dear self, when your commission is terminated— to Tarth, my love. I will be there, waiting for you, as I have waited for you since the day you left.
Always, always, always yours,
Princess Daenerys Targaryen
P.S. I pray you forgive the tear stains smearing some of the words; I cannot think of what you have endured without weeping. I had asked Podrick for another drawing of myself to send you, but he told me I am "a sight", and not a pretty one, with how red and swollen my eyes are, and won't seeing that only make you feel worse instead of better? So that is why there is no drawing of me with this letter: Podrick feels my homely face will depress you too much.
P.P.S. Instead, there is a sketch of the wolf pup Robb gave me when I departed Casterly Rock. He has much the look of Ghost, though is not albino, merely white. Currently, I am calling him 'no-don't-chew-that-blast-you-come-here-Pod-catch-him', so perhaps something that flows more easily from the tongue would be better? I had thought to name him Specter, as a nod to his great-uncle, but considered I should solicit the advice of the expert wolf-companion among us: Captain Snow, what think you?
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Wednesday, 18 August 1813
Evenfall Hall, Tarth, Stormlands, Westeros
Dear Dany,
I feel like I am dying, such is the anguish that grips my heart. I find myself wondering how I will bear the knowledge of Jaime's mutilation and suffering, then hate myself for focusing on my upset instead of devoting myself wholly to his. He must come directly to Tarth— not King's Landing, and certainly not to Lannisport. He needs me. I will permit no further delays to being at his side once more.
I have begun changing Evenfall Hall to better serve his needs, such as renovating rooms for exercise, a saltwater bath, and every other method known to medicine as being helpful to recuperation from such a grievous wound. As well, I have sent for the finest maester in Oldtown to attend Jaime upon his arrival. Word is that this fellow has some expertise in helping one who has lost a limb to adapt in other ways, and minimize the inconvenience and pain of being thus incapacitated.
Thank you, thank you, thank you— for your immediate response to Jaime, it was absolutely perfect and accurate in expressing my reaction— and for your traveling so far to be with me, especially when I know you are still recovering from your own illness. I keenly need you to help me endure the pain I feel on Jaime's behalf. Do not rush, however; I beg you to go easy and not exhaust yourself. Tell Podrick I shall hold him responsible if you are in any way unwell upon your arrival.
Having sent this to you at Bronzegate, you will receive it when you are but a week from Tarth. Send word and I shall meet you in Storm's End to sail with your party to Evenfall. The pirates have taken to preying on ships sailing back and forth to the mainland, of late, and I would not have you unprotected.
Your most faithful friend,
Brienne, Countess of Tarth
P.S. I will bring your crossbow with me.