.
.
"Bronn. Bronn!"
"Major?"
"He's turning gray. I don't think he's breathing."
"Shit. Move aside, Major."
"What are you doing? He's already got half his ribs broken, you'll break the other half!"
"I've seen it— a man what's stopped breathing, you strike him in the chest, makes his lungs work again."
"Wuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…"
"See?"
"Oh, gods. I need a drink."
"Pour me one while you're at it, Major."
"Funny."
"Oh. Forgot about the hand… sorry."
"Don't be. Gives me an excuse to just drink from the bottle."
"Save some for me, you selfish sod."
"That's Major Selfish Sod to you, Corporal."
"He looks terrible. Maybe you should read him the letters again, Major."
"I've read them three times, Bronn. They're not working."
"Neither is anything else. He almost croaked, just now. What's to lose?"
"You read them, this time, if it means that much to you."
"…fine, I'll just talk to him. Oy, Captain, if you die, she's either going to get sick again, or take up with another man."
"She already thought he was dead for seven years and didn't take up with anyone, Bronn."
"You're shit at this, Major."
"I don't want to upset him."
"You want him happy or you want him alive? Never met a men who wouldn't stay alive for spite when all else failed."
"…fine. Jon, if you don't wake up, Bronn is going to seduce Dany and have five children with her."
"Hey, now, Major, I don't want him to kill me."
"Ten children, Jon. And they'll all be named 'Bronn'. Even the girls."
"Major…"
"The girls will be named Bronna, Bronneen, Bronnette…"
"Major, look."
"Bronnice— Jon? No, stop slapping him. Jon?"
"Ddnnn ooo vvggnn ddshh rrr…"
"What did he say?"
"Huh."
"What did he say?"
"He said, 'don't you fucking touch her'. Hn. I guess you were right."
"Told you. Captain, if you hurry and wake up, your princess and I will name that last girl after you. 'Jonnelle' is a fine name for a lass, don't you think?"
"Ulll gill ooo…"
"What was that?"
" 'I'll kill you'. Jon, that's hardly behavior becoming to an officer."
"Guh duh huulll."
"I've been to hell and I'm not going back. You can't make me. Bronn, bring some water. Clearly, we've been going about this all wrong. You don't need loving words, Jon, you need your arse kicked."
"Here's the water."
"Bronn! It was for him to drink, not pour over his head… you've half-drowned him. If he survives being shot, and stabbed, and then feverish, only to drown because of us, Dany will kick our arses."
"I've seen the drawing. If she really looks half that pretty, I'll let her kick my arse. Here's more water."
"Slowly, Jon."
"Dwice az briddy."
"Twice as pretty, you say, Captain? That seals it, then. I'll go get my courting clothes ready."
"I will gill you, Bronn."
"Once you're strong enough, you can avenge Dany's honor against Bronn, but you couldn't kill a fly right now, Jon."
"Iz zhe well, Zhaime?"
"When she learned of your condition, she was a bit too upset to write back, so Pod penned it for her. Shall I read it to you?"
"Yez."
"Dear Major Lannister,
"I am writing for the princess because she just read Countess Tarth's letter about how you are all doing, and her hands are shaking too hard to hold the quill. She is very distressed to hear of Captain Snow's injury, but relieved that you are doing better.
"The princess says she is going to make an entire suit of armor out of buttons for both you and Captain Snow. I do not know what that means. It sounds impractical. Women often have odd ideas about fashion, though.
"She wants me to sign this with love so I will.
Love,
Podrick Payne
"Oh, Pod, you precious creature."
"Major, that boy ain't right."
"I'm aware, Bronn, I'm aware. Here is the post-script.
"P.S. To cheer you up, here is a little drawing I did of the princess with Lord Stark's son. Her Highness often says she hopes to one day have a son named Jon as well—
"—steady on, Jon, no blubbering—
"— but it seems to me that too many Jons will get confusing and she should pick something else instead. I told her Podrick but she said that is a terrible name.
"It is, it's a ghastly name."
"Zhow me th' drawng."
"Ah. Here it is."
"…"
"Jon? Oh, hell. Bronn?"
"Major?"
"Need a handkerchief."
"…oh."
"Jon, take it. I am not wiping your eyes for you, dammit. Some things a man must do for himself."
"Zhank you."
"She wrote a letter, too. It arrived just today. Shall I—"
"Yes."
"Ah, she's arrived at Evenfall Hall by now, excellent… My dear and beloved Jaime—
"Countess Tarth has received nothing from you since Bronn's so-charming letter of several weeks ago, to our shared concern. Pod insists that "no news is good news" and I have been chanting this to myself a hundred times an hour to belay the anxiety that hounds me with every heartbeat, but I beg you, send us a raven soonest with the happy news that you and Captain Snow both have passed any point of danger and are on your way to recovery by now.
"See, Bronn, what your refusal has done? Now the ladies are upset and worried again."
"You don't pay me near enough to go through that again. My head ached for two days, after all that writing."
"I don't pay you at all, His Majesty does."
"Proving my point, you are."
"More."
"So demanding, Jon, but as you wish…
"Our dear friend was quite stunned to learn that the token she gave Captain Snow so long ago was the method by which he was saved. She was much affected to learn that he had kept it with him all these years, having thought he had left it where they parted. Her relief, that she might have had any hand in protecting the captain, bolsters her against the despair she feels at his poor condition.
I feel somewhat disgruntled that I did not think to give you such an item. You will just have to remind yourself frequently that each time you think of me, I am certainly thinking of you in return, because you are on my mind with every breath that I take.
"Distress over the wounds suffered by yourself and Captain Snow has made Her Excellency and myself positively haggard, ser. Podrick continues to refuse to draw me, and the artistic laundress has refused to draw our friend, as well, saying she looks even worse than I after hearing of Captain Snow's condition. So Pod drew the laundress, and she drew him, and I have included those sketches.
Your impatient and loving fiancée,
Princess Daenerys Targaryen
"P.S. I have a faint suspicion Podrick might be sweet on the laundress.
"P.P.S. I am almost positive that our friend is sweet on Captain Snow.
"P.P.P.S. I no doubts whatsoever that I am sweet on you."
"That laundress is actually rather pretty, don't you think, Jon?"
"Don't care."
"Let me see… huh. I'd have a go at her. Pod better get ready for some competition. He don't have a chance against me."
"You might be surprised, Bronn. Tyrion had some interesting tales to tell about our Podrick's adventures in Lannisport. It's good we'll be with them on Tarth soon, or else I'd start to worry the countess and the princess might fall prey to his seductive charms, as well."
"When do we leave?"
"As soon as you get your arse out of the bed, Captain."
.
.
"We've had a raven!" called Brienne as she stomped across the great hall toward the smaller, more private solar in which Dany sat at a little desk, writing letters she owed to Tyrion and various Starks and Stark-adjacent personages.
Since Robb and Jeyne's advent to Casterly Rock, not only did she write to them weekly, but Sansa had renewed her acquaintance as well, becoming a faithful correspondent. Then Arya Stark had sent a letter— a rather challenging letter— demanding to know why Dany felt herself worthy of Jon, so of course Dany had had to respond to that (her admittance that she in no way deserved Arya's brother, but would spend the rest of her life trying to do so, seemed to have appeased the fierce little wolf).
And when His Grace, Eddard Stark, Duke of the North, had written her a letter introducing himself to her, she had taken the opportunity to extract from him every story of Jon's youth that he could remember. She had exchanged a letter or two with Bran and Rickon, enjoying a lively discussion of recently-read books with the former and entertaining the latter with various tales of dragons and knights— where the dragons were the heroes of the stories, for once— that Viserys had told her in her childhood. She'd even received a letter from Theon Greyjoy, declaring that if she wouldn't marry him, he supposed Jon was a decent substitute.
Dany leapt up from the desk and flew from the solar to meet Brienne halfway across the hall.
"I can't decide if I want it to be from Bronn or not," Dany. "It is so interesting to try to decode which words he intends, don't you think?"
"Not when one merely wants the message," Brienne replied, waving the tight-rolled parchment in the air. "I don't have time to translate gibberish when I need to know Jaime's condition."
"True, true," Dany murmured, then gave a happy little gasp as Brienne unrolled it. "Oh, that's Jon's hand. May I read it?"
Brienne gave it to her; she eagerly stretched the parchment open, and began to read aloud.
"Thursday, 21 October 1813
"The Handless Man Inn, Tyrosh, Essos
"My Beloved Dany,
"Oh! He— he is writing directly to me, himself! He must have sent this by a maester's raven, instead of a military one!
"I take up quill once more to write you of our situation, Jaime's and my own. I apologize most sincerely for the delay in communication, as well as the distress you and Brienne experienced as a result. It needed to wait until I was recovered enough to write, for Bronn was so traumatized by his experience as Jaime's secretary that he flatly refused to act in that capacity ever again. We attempted to change his mind through force, but our threats of assault upon his person were met with hilarity. We cannot argue his laughter; we are so weak, after our illnesses, that Brienne's laundress could defeat both of us at the same time and not even need her iron as a weapon.
"I am glad to say I have come through my ordeal (mostly) unscathed, though slightly the worse for wear. I fear my chest looks like a patchwork quilt, between the wounds and the stitches needed to hold me together. Please accept my deepest regrets for any worry the news of my condition may have caused; it has never been my intention to cause you or Brienne any concern.
"I had believed myself healing despite the severity of my wounds and loss of blood, and indeed had I been tended in a more hygienic environment, I've no doubt there would have been no complications. However, the hospital in Meereen consists of a filthy tent on the bare ground, with little hope of the practices known to ward off infection. It is a marvel, how well your gift to me deflected first a bullet, and then a knife, for without it doubtless I'd be returning to be buried at Winterfell this moment, instead of headed to Tarth for our long-awaited reunion with you both.
"Oh, don't cry, Dany." Brienne produced a huge white handkerchief from some deep pocket and thrust it into her friend's hand, taking the letter from her and continuing in her stead.
"Jaime is doing very well, considering his affliction, with no more fevers, and his demeanor has been improving steadily with each day that brings him closer to being reunited with Brienne. He is in high enough spirits, in fact, that he insisted upon staying at this inn the moment he learned of its name. It is in a disreputable part of town, which appeals to Bronn, but the only thing I myself can find to recommend it is its proximity to Tarth, which I confess myself eager to arrive at after a long and harrowing journey. We estimate it will take a week from our departure tomorrow until we arrive.
"I would like to confide in Brienne about Jaime's apprehensions about her reception of him when she sees his injury. She has been nothing but accepting, of course, and I pray she does not take it personally if he expresses doubt that she might still return his affections. But he no longer finds much of value about himself, despite protestations on Bronn's part, and my own. He esteems neither of us nearly so much as herself, however, so I have hopes she will be able to set him straight once more.
"My dear, I'm sorry," Dany whispered, pushing the handkerchief into Brienne's hand now that she was weeping. Dany retrieved the letter and read on.
"With no exaggeration at all, I can state that your letters and the drawings have given both Jaime and myself the endurance we needed to persevere beyond our injuries and ailments. But you and Brienne have done far more than merely save our lives, Dany. You have madeour lives, since the moment of our meeting, and in the last year have been the reasons for us to fight on, long past when our discouragement or wounds would have been our defeat.
"You did this, not by setting out to inspire us in the face of adversity, but just by detecting something good in us in the first place. Whatever speck of worth you found in us, you have magnified, so that all of our failings diminish in comparison. If anyone wonders at you for choosing us, if they ask you how you could possibly love such men, know that it is because you have the power to transform the flawed.
Only tell them: I touch him and he changes, becoming his true self. I perform alchemy on him. Brooding, baseborn Jon Snow— arrogant, caddish Jaime Lannister— turns from lead to gold in my arms.
The letter's pages slipped from Dany's trembling hands. She lifted her incredulous gaze to her friend, mouth parted in astonishment, as yet more tears rolled down her face.
Brienne offered Dany a shaky smile.
"Whoever would have thought that brooding, baseborn Jon Snow would have the soul of a poet?" she asked— rhetorically, but sounding far more like she really would like an answer. She bent and retrieved the pages from the floor and finished reading the letter aloud.
"I am and have ever been, freely and entirely,
Your most devoted, humble, and affectionate servant,
"Captain Jon Snow
"P.S. Bronn was much impressed by the laundress's charms, as evidenced in Podrick's drawing, and wishes me to mention that if Pod has staked no claim to her, he would like to press his own suit.
"P.P.S. Jaime is revoltingly absolute in how sweet he is on Brienne.
"P.P.P.S. I am most definitely sweet on you, my dearest one.
After sharing the handkerchief until it was damp enough to be wrung out, they calmed themselves, cheered by the notion that they would be reunited with Jon and Jaime within a sennight.
"We have preparations to make," Brienne declared, "and not a moment to waste on them."
So she went to bully the carpenters into hastening the speed with which they were constructing a therapeutic saltwater pool, and Dany began commanding Evenfall Hall's battalion of servants into the preparations needed for the anticipated new residents, and Podrick prayed for the endurance to withstand the demands of them both. He did not mind being kept busy as a way for them to distract themselves from worrying, but he was ever so tired, and had not been able to snatch even a single night with his laundress sweetheart in almost a week.