Brienne was relieved to ride through the gates of the Red Keep. The trek back from the dragon pit through the whirling snow and gathering dark felt as though it had leached all of the warmth from her soul. She wanted only to find Jaime and tell him of the dragons and Dany's demands. Jaime had more experience with the manipulations of people in power, and Brienne hoped he might have some insight about the threats the queen had made.
Ashefa dismounted in front of the stable to take the reins of the four horses. Brienne once again hugged her faithful steed, inhaling his warm, horsey smell. She reminded the groom that came out to take him from the Dothraki to put his blue blanket on him so that he wouldn't catch a chill. She entertained a brief vision of Viserion in a dragon-sized blanket, durring away as he slept. Dragons were such a contradiction of strength and sweetness.
Brienne nodded briefly to Daenerys and Ser Barristan, unwilling to give them even the clumsy half curtsey she normally attempted. She briskly walked across the outer yard, distancing herself as quickly as she could from them. The wind was at her back, making her blue cloak cling to her as she walked.
She was relieved to see the lighted windows of the Royal Sept and the Maidenvault. Entering the vault, she noticed that Helyn was still at her post, her eyes closed and her skirts back in place. Brienne let her sleep and went through the door, entering the hallway that led to her chambers.
As Brienne stepped into the hall she saw a door open toward the end of the row of rooms. Jaime walked out, followed by Cersei. Brienne halted where she was; dread pooling in her stomach at seeing Jaime with his sister. They had stopped just past Cersei's chamber door; Brienne could see that Jaime's black jerkin was partially unlaced. Cersei wore a gown with a very low-cut, gem encrusted bodice that revealed more of her full breasts than it concealed. Her hair was clean, the lightly curling golden locks gracefully falling upon her shoulders.
Brienne watched in horror as Cersei pressed herself against Jaime until she had backed him up against the wall. She raised one hand into his hair and pulled his head down to her. She slid her other hand into Jaime's breeches, which Brienne could see were still laced but untied at the top. Brienne could tell when Cersei's probing hand wrapped around Jaime's cock by the way his head came up, the apple of his throat bobbing. He stared down at Cersei, who gave a low, sensuous laugh that carried to Brienne at the end of the hall.
She had been frozen in place as though caught in a nightmare, but now Brienne's hand flew to her mouth to stifle her cry as she pivoted on her heel and left the hallway as quickly as she could. She didn't even glance at Helyn as she left the Maidenvault, trying not to run in her urgency to distance herself from what she had witnessed. As she fled back into the storm the wind gusted against her and she let it whip the tears that had been standing in her eyes back across her cheeks.
She didn't know where to go; she couldn't go to her room, and she wouldn't go to Jaime's room in Traitor's Walk. She entered the building that housed the dining hall and ballroom, and stood still just inside the doorway, brushing the wetness from her cheeks. It took a few minutes for her wildly racing thoughts to calm enough for her to decide where to go. She walked down the corridor to the dining hall and went inside.
It was early in the evening, and most of the people sitting around at various tables were relaxing with tankards of ale or cups of wine. The din of the kitchen staff readying the night's meal could be heard beneath the laughter and loud conversations going on around Brienne.
Few people took note of her as she made her way to an empty table in the farthest corner of the room and sat down with her back to the door. A servant came by and Brienne considered requesting some bread to sop up the emptiness gnawing at the pit of her stomach, but found herself requesting a flagon of wine instead. When it came she filled her cup to the brim and took a long swallow. How could he? She thought, how? She took another drink and felt the alcohol spreading heat through her chest and limbs, though it seemed to bypass her heart, leaving it aching and chilled. Traitorous heart, she thought, Itoldmyself not to trust it.
Brienne drained her cup and re-filled it. Cersei, always Cersei. She had been worried that Jaime would return to Cersei's bed when first she learned his sister would also be taking the Silver. While unhappy about it, she had believed then that she had no claim on Jaime's heart. That was before Jaime had begun courting her, giving Brienne reason to believe that she was the woman he wanted. Was it a lie or was he simply unable to resist his beautiful sister, the only woman he had ever fucked? Brienne scrubbed her hand across her face. Maybe he hadn't wanted Brienne that way after all, or maybe it was just easier for him to take from Cersei what was so willingly given.
Cersei's words echoed in Brienne's head 'He does not want you; he has never wanted anyone but me in his bed.'
Had this happened between them before and she just happened to see it this time? Brienne would have sworn to Jaime's indifference to Cersei's charms, but maybe he'd lied to protect her feelings. She had always believed that Jaime was a man not meant for celibacy; he'd broken those vows before to be with Cersei. He had made no vows to Brienne; even if he loved her as he said he did, Jaime had made no plans with her for the future. All he had really promised was more of the pleasure they had shared in her bed.
Only last night he had denied he could ever love Cersei again, and Brienne had said to him 'I did wonder if once you were near her again if you would end up between her legs.'Jaime's response had been'You can't really have thought I was that stupid?'
But he hadn't really denied it. Gods, had he really thought she was that stupid? Apparently he did, and just as apparently, she was.
Brienne had worried that their friendship would be ruined if they crossed that thin boundary they had always kept between them. Why had he even bothered telling her he loved her? They might have enjoyed each other without that, as they had on numerous occasions, just more chastely. It might not have ruined their friendship, if he hadn't led her to believe…
But had he? Had he done any more than say he loved her and given her a stupid rose? Brienne leaned over to reach into her boot and retrieve the rose she had tucked there. Her head spun as she sat up straight again; the wine was doing its job admirably.
She held the rose up to look at it. It really had been a sweet gesture, she supposed. Fucking stupid roses. I hate roses, Brienne thought, I suppose Jaime is little better than any other man, courting me just to take his pleasure.I wish I could hate him as I hate Connington. Connington… why had he hit Red Ronnet Connington? Her increasingly fuzzy thoughts tried to grasp what he had told her about it. 'He needed to learn a little respect.' She remembered him telling her. That was Jaime, through and through. He had always defended her. He had also admitted her didn't hit Connington for her, but for himself.
Brienne let the rose fall from her fingers onto the table.
Despite how Jaime had now ruined their friendship and trampled her heart, maybe he hadn't really understood that his seeming to offer her something she had always wanted would tear her apart in the end. Between him and Cersei they had found all of her weaknesses and she felt utterly defeated.
Brienne held up her arm to request more wine, wishing she could talk to her closest friend in the world about what had happened. Jaime had been everything to her, and now she was denied even the comfort of going to him with her troubles.
What had Tyrion said last night? 'I think I know what you are to him,' Well, that was vague, wasn't it? It had seemed sweet at the time, even hopeful, but coming from Tyrion, there could have been levels of meaning to it that she was too dense to see.
Tyrion had also said, 'have a care for his feelings; he is a tender-hearted fool.' How many ways could she interpret that? Brienne had to admit that Jaime was tender-hearted. Had Cersei found a way to manipulate him after all by appealing to his sentimental side? Oh, Jaime, Brienne thought, a tear slipping down her cheek, how much worse will I feel if you are back in love with her as well as fucking her.But could she really feel any worse? Either way, she thought she couldn't face him again.
If she hadn't witnessed Cersei holding his cock so boldly, she wondered if she would ever have figured it out. Would he have been waiting in her chambers for her, expecting to continue what they had started? Would he touch her the way he had probably touched Cersei in her chambers? Would he have tied his jerkin and his breeches back up and pretended nothing had happened with Cersei? Would that be better or worse than him telling her the truth? Without realizing it, Brienne let more tears fall. When one splashed on the table she used the heels of her hands to wipe them away. She knew was even uglier when she cried, but who cared?
I could just train Viserion, she thought, I don't have to face Jaime again. I could send him a note. Something brief, like "Enjoy your sister," or "Cersei wins."Or she could just not send word at all. She could have her things retrieved and sent to the building attached to the dragon pit. It had looked like it was well appointed enough to have bed chambers.
Brienne poured herself another cup of wine, reflecting that she and Cersei now had something more in common than wanting Jaime. The thought disgusted her. She flagged down another servant and asked for rum instead. The servant, a matronly looking woman, looked at Brienne's reddened eyes and tear-streaked face pityingly.
"Man trouble, sweetling?" she asked. Brienne just nodded, afraid her voice would waver and crack. "Well," the woman said, leaning down conspiratorially, "I say, fuck 'em all. Can't trust a one o' the lot of 'em." Brienne nodded again, wishing the woman would just go get her rum.
After the servant left, Brienne reached for her wine, but her unsteady hands rocked the cup and most of what was left slopped out on the table. The red liquid spread and some of it pooled around and under the rose she had dropped.It looks like the rose is lying in a pool of blood. How appropriate, she thought, I must be drunk because I am getting positively maudlin. She put her head down on her folded arms, not noticing that her sleeve was also soaking up some of the wine she had spilled.
The servant returned with a little pottery jar full of rum and a small ceramic cup.
"Have a care, sweetling. This'll sneak up on you in no time, though I'll warrant you're already going to be sick as a snark come morning."
Brienne raised her head, smiled blearily at the woman and waved her thanks. She filled the little cup and drank the fiery liquid. It burned going down her throat and she savored the feeling. I can tolerate this kind of pain, she thought.
"Brienne?" she heard her name called from somewhere behind her. Ser Dwayne came into view and peered down at her from his great height. Brienne looked up at him, trying to widen her eyes so she wouldn't appear as drunk as she was.
"Dwayne, well shmet," she said, "I mean, mell shmet. Shit," she tried again, pronouncing the words slowly and carefully "Well. Met."
"Are you drunk my lady?" he asked, sitting down at her table, facing her.
"Maybe?" Brienne said with a little smile.
"You've been crying," Dwayne said, looking at her closely.
"Have not," she denied, brushing her fingers under her eyes to wipe away any tears still lingering. Dwayne cocked his head at her and raised his eyebrows, concern in his pretty gold and green eyes. "Okay," Brienne admitted, "maybe a shlittle."
"Where's your lord?" Dwayne asked.
"Don't have a lord." Brienne said with dignity. She tried to pour another shot of the rum, but her hands were shaking. Dwayne took the jar from her and poured.
"Okay, not your lord, then. Where is Ser Jaime?" He raised his arm for a servant.
"Jaime?" she said blearily.
"Lannister? One-handed knight, handsome, maybe a little conceited?" The servant came and Dwayne requested another cup and jar of rum.
"Jaime," Brienne said concisely, "is off fucking Cersei."
"That whoreson…" Dwayne swore hotly.
Brienne laughed a little, "Not a 'whoreson'," she said, "a whore-brother." She drank half of the rum in her cup and set it down hard.
"How much have you had to drink?" Dwayne asked her.
"This is only my first jar of rum," she said.
Dwayne looked at the empty flagons and the wine spilled on the table and whistled.
"Do you have any idea how sick you are going to feel in the morning?"
"I have been duly informed." Brienne said.
"So, the Kingslayer – sorry, Lannister, has gone back to his sister?" Dwayne asked quietly.
"I shaw them together," Brienne told him, leaning her chin in her hand so her head wouldn't wobble, "whether he hash gone back or never shleft, I don't know."
"Brienne, my lady, in that case he never deserved you in the first place." Dwayne said stoutly.
"Yep, no one desherves the likes of me," Brienne said, "I really should have known better." She gulped the last of her cup and held it out for more. Dwayne filled it, and then emptied the jar into his mouth.
"Gods, you're drinking this straight?!" he gasped, coughing. Brienne smiled shyly at him, proud of her fortitude in the face of icky tasting liquor. The servant swept by with the new jar and cup, eyeballing Dwayne with interest.
"Now then," she said with satisfaction, "Lover's quarrels are quick to heal,"
Brienne gaped up at her, but couldn't think how to respond, so she just nodded.
"You two do make a lovely couple, I must say. It mustn't be easy to find a man taller than you, dearie."
"It's snot," Brienne said, bewildered.
The servant placed a plump hand on Dwayne's shoulder, "Have a care you don't take her for granted again, young lord; you may be bigger'n her, but I bet she could take you."
The woman walked away and Dwayne and Brienne both laughed.
"I know," Brienne said, "let's go spar now! We can pick up tourney swords in the armory and the snowlight should be enough to see by."
"No, Brienne. You are far too drunk to spar."
She looked at his attractive, kind face and blushed when she thought about other ways there were to spar. "Are you afraid I'll beat you?" she challenged, "Even three sheeps to the shwind?"
"I think you might be able to beat me sober, but I'm worried you'll just end up defeating yourself if you try to use a sword when you're this drunk."
"Craven," she teased.
"Drunkard," he said, pouring rum for both of them. "So, I thought Jaime Lannister was devoted to you. Loras told me he had long since ended his relationship with Cersei."
"Guessh snot," Brienne said.
"Seriously, my lady, are you sure he is with her?"
"I shaw her put her hands down hish breeches and grab his cock." She said, raising an eyebrow and trying not to let her lip tremble.
Dwayne looked into Brienne's big, bloodshot eyes a moment, trying to think of something encouraging to say.
"Um, maybe…er, I don't know what to say to that. Do you want me to challenge him? He sounds like he could use a good thrashing."
"He's better with a sword than you think," Brienne defended, "but I just want to forget about it, forget about him," as if I could, she thought, and this time her lip did tremble, and she was unable to stem the tears.
Loras approached the table, calling cheerfully, "Dwayne, Brienne! Well met!"
Brienne didn't look at him, but Loras could see the grim, sympathetic look on Dwayne's face. He peered at Brienne, who was trying to hide her face by looking in the other direction. He immediately sat next to Brienne and put his arm around her shoulders.
"Lady Brienne, what's wrong? Has something happened to Ser Jaime?" he asked urgently.
"Yes," Dwayne answered for her, "He's fucking Cersei."
"No, he couldn't be," Loras gasped, "That little whoreson… "
"Whore-brother," Brienne and Dwayne said simultaneously.
"No, he wouldn't, he couldn't be."
"Brienne saw them together," Dwayne volunteered, "The strumpet had his cock in hand."
"What? No!" Loras protested, "Out in the open? Where was this?"
"The Maidenvault," Brienne said, "they came out of Cersei's room. Jaime's breeches were untied, and hish jerkin wash partly unlaced. Cersei pushed him up against the wall and shtuck her little paw down hish breeches."
"Gods," Loras moaned, hugging Brienne closer, "Where were you?"
"I wash at the end of the hall. They didn't shee me."
"I'm stunned, Brienne," Loras told her. "Dwayne, we need to challenge him. He can't do this to Brienne."
Brienne giggled and took another gulp of the rum.
"How long have you been sitting here drinking?" Loras asked her, eyeing the array of alcohol on the table. Dwayne raised his hand to summon the servant again.
"I came straight here after I saw them. I was going to tell Jaime about my meeting with the queen."
The servant came cheerfully back to their table. "Goodness, but you sure have a way with the handsome young lads," she told Brienne, "I assume you're wanting more rum?" she said with a wink.
"Actually, I'd like some wi..." Loras started to say.
"Yes, more rum." Dwayne confirmed, looking pointedly at Loras, and the woman bustled off, no doubt to share some gossip with the kitchen staff while she got the rum. "Solidarity. We can't let Lady Brienne drink rum all by herself."
Loras sighed, but didn't argue. He dropped his arm from Brienne's shoulder and turned on the bench to look at her. He had never seen her look so miserable and betrayed, not even the day she had brought Jaime home to King's Landing only to be put under arrest. She had not shed a tear then, but she'd clearly been weeping tonight.
"You can tell us about your meeting with the queen, instead," he told her.
Brienne sighed. "She wants me to train a dragon," She told them, "to fly in battle."
"That sounds dangerous," Dwayne said with a low whistle.
"But aren't you traveling north with the rest of us?" asked Loras.
"Her Grace said that if I don't try to train Viserion she would sheparate me and Jaime. Turns out she won't need to." Brienne laughed weakly, "She threatened to make Cersei camp in Jaime's tent if I didn't agree to her plan. I thought she wash mad for thinking he would put up with that."
"Oh, Brienne," Loras said softly, stroking her hair when she laid her head back on her folded arms. "Is this a rose?" he asked, picking up the abandoned flower from its shrinking pool of wine.
"Uh huh," Brienne mumbled, not raising her head.
"It's leather," Loras said in surprise.
"Also, it's your house sigil, and a little singed, just like you." Brienne said, "Jaime gave it to me last night, but I told him I hated roses, so he held it over a candle before I could stop him."
"That was manly of him, to burn it just because you didn't like it." Loras said with a frown, "Seems a little extreme to me."
"He was frustrated because he's been trying to court me and he keeps doing things that other men already tried. Like the carrots." Brienne raised her head and grinned a little, "He said the leather rose would last forever and remind me of Spring to come. It was sweet, really."
"And the carrots?" asked Dwayne.
"Long story." Brienne said, rolling her eyes. "You know what? I want to go see my horse." She quaffed another cup of rum and made to stand up. Loras caught her before she fell off the bench.
"Oof, my lady, next time Dwayne has to catch you."
"My pleasure," Dwayne said, smiling. "Come on, Loras, let's go see a horse." He walked around the table, staggering a little himself, and offered his hand to Brienne. "And Loras?"
"Yes?"
"Catch up. You need to drink some of this rum, if only to save us from it."
Loras grimaced, but poured himself a cup and drank it in one gulp. His eyes watered, but he managed not to cough.
"Now, if you'll carry the jar and cups, I'll try to make sure Brienne the Brave doesn't fall down and become Brienne the Bruised," Dwayne said, arranging her arm over his shoulder and holding on securely to her hand while wrapping his other arm around her waist. He easily propelled her away from the bench and the two of them wove just a little as they left the hall with Loras following behind, looking melancholy but a little amused.
The rose lay on the table, wine-stained and forgotten.
The hall was starting to fill up with diners, but with a little maneuvering they were able to exit without bowling anyone over. A little way past the door they saw Tyrion enter the building and begin walking toward them.
Tyrion took in the trio and stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging slightly open. He did not miss that Dwayne had his arm around Brienne's waist, or that Brienne was resting her head against his unreasonably broad shoulder. Brienne had not noticed him yet, and did not see how pale his face had suddenly become.
"My lords," said Tyrion politely when they reached him, "Lady Brienne."
Brienne held her head up and looked blearily at Tyrion. She narrowed her eyes briefly before she looked away, her heated cheeks only intensifying the look of anger and sorrow he glimpsed on her face.
"Where's Jaime?" Tyrion asked the group.
"Fucking Cersei." They all said together.
"Not funny." Tyrion said, "Where is he really? Is he okay, Brienne?"
"Ashk him." Brienne said shortly.
"Are you drunk, my lady?" Tyrion asked with concern.
"I might be," she told him, "I shtarted with wine, but then decided I already had too much in common with your shister and shwitched to rum. Want shome?"
"I might need some." Tyrion said, "But surely this is some foul rumor? Jaime wants nothing to do with Cersei. He loves you. He told me so."
"She saw them together," Dwayne said, shifting his grip on Brienne as she began to slide down on her wobbly legs.
"Doing what?" asked Tyrion skeptically.
"Your slutty sister had her hand down Jaime's Breeches." Loras told him.
"Doing…?"
"Well, she wasn't holding his hand," Loras said sarcastically.
"Where was this?" Tyrion asked, panic edging his voice.
"In the Maidenvault, just outside of Cersei's room." Dwayne told him.
"Damn. Shit. Fuck." Tyrion growled, "Brienne, there must be some explanation! Jaime – "
"Doesn't deserve her." Dwayne finished for him.
Brienne shook her head, but couldn't bring herself to speak. She wanted to confront Tyrion about what the queen had wanted, but it suddenly seemed pointless to her. She pulled Dwayne forward, and together they lurched toward the door and went out into the snow.
Tyrion reached up and grabbed Loras' sleeve. "Loras, this can't be right! You know Jaime; he wouldn't betray Brienne."
"Maybe he doesn't see it as a betrayal," Loras said, "has he made any vows to Lady Brienne? No? Then he hasn't broken any. It seems to me that all she has from him is a nickname: Kingslayer's Whore. How do you think that sits with her? I don't want to believe he would do this, either," he said sadly, "but the evidence of her own eyes is pretty damning."
"Cersei has to be behind it," Tyrion said.
"Regardless, it is Jaime that has wounded Brienne. I had always thought he needed her more than she needs him. Her honor has never been in question. She's ready to go risk her life training a dragon and says she never cares to see Ser Jaime again. Of course, she's very, very drunk. She may feel differently in the morning."
"Oh, Gods, this is terrible." Tyrion said, running his hand through his hair, "Please don't let her do anything she'll regret, Loras. That Ser Dwayne, can he be trusted?"
"He is pretty drunk as well," Loras said, "and I am not their keeper. But I will try to keep an eye on them."
"I have to go find Jaime. Poor, stupid, naïve, Jaime. I warned him not trust Cersei."
Loras shrugged and took his leave. He didn't see Brienne and Dwayne anywhere, but their tracks were visible and headed in the direction of the stable. Eventually he heard laughter and came upon the two of them lying in the middle of the field in the snow.
"Look!" Brienne called out to him, "We're making snow septas!"
Loras saw that they were, with half a dozen septa-shaped indents in the snow, the long sleeves of the traditional septa robes represented by the furrows one's arms moving back and forth in the snow made. Both Brienne and Dwayne were covered in snow, and Loras could see that the idea of making the snow septas came to them only after they had already fallen in a high drift of the stuff.
He hoped they would be able to get up again. Both were much too large for him to lift. Loras wondered if they might have some common ancestor with their similar build.
"Weren't we headed to see your horse, my lady?" He said reasonably.
"Oh, we were! C'mon, Dwayne, you have to meet Sean. Besht horshe in Westeros. He got near enough to smell dragons today and he didn't even shy away. He's my brave boy."
As Loras watched, the two crawled a ways in the snow and gradually rose out of it like hulking snow monsters. They lurched toward the stables. Loras took a swig of the rum directly from the bottle, fearing this night was going to be a very long one, and followed.
The stables were warm and dim, the sleepy mutterings of livestock and plocking of chickens disturbed by the intruders a relief after the silence of the snowy yard. Brienne made her way back to Sean, her hands out to steady herself against walls and stalls as she staggered. Sean's big eyes were gleaming in the dark as his mistress approached. He put his head over the fence and nudged at Brienne. She rested her head against his and whispered "Oh, Sean," in a small voice. Loras heard the tears behind her words and put his hand out to stop Dwayne from going up to them. They could hear Brienne talking quietly to her horse, telling him her woes, taking comfort in his familiarity.
"You're my only true friend, now," she said so quietly that no one but Sean and Ser Fluffy Tail could make out her words. She patted Jaime's horse as well. "I love you, too, Fluffy," she told him, "It's not your fault your owner is a fuck-head."
She started to open Sean's stall, and Loras and Dwayne both moved forward.
"What are you doing?" Loras asked.
"I'm going to sleep in here with Sean tonight." Brienne said, standing up as straight as she could. "He'll share his blanket with me. Won't you Sean?" She continued to rattle at his gate and Dwayne came up and put his arm over her shoulder, drawing her away.
"I'm sorry, Brienne, but it wouldn't be safe to sleep with a drunk horse. I mean, to sleep with a horse when you're drunk." He said, trying to lead her away.
"But, I have to sleep here. I can't go back to the Maidenvault. Jaime is waiting for me there. Well, I think he's waiting. He was supposed to meet me there." She looked wistfully back at Sean, "I'll be careful. Maybe if I just wrap myself in my cloak outside his door?"
"No, my lady, you need to come back and sleep in a real bed." Dwayne told her, "You can come back to my chambers for the night," he said with a little smirk.
Loras raised his eyebrows, "Brienne of Tarth is a highborn lady…" he said.
"And she'll still be one in the morning, on my honor." Dwayne said. "You can stay too, on the couch. That way if she gets sick in the night one of us can hold her hair and the other can hold the chamber pot."
Loras looked skeptical, and Brienne just looked about ready to fall asleep where she was standing.
"Come on," Dwayne told him, gathering Brienne in a tight hold to walk her back to Maegor's holdfast, where his rooms were. "And if Ser Jaime comes looking for her it might give him something to think about, finding that she's spent the night with someone other than him."
