Author's Notes: Good day, everyone! Welcome back! I hope you've all had a lovely couple of weeks. Thank you for being an absolutely wonderful audience! Your reviews, bookmarks, and Kudos make my soul sing! Thanks a bunch!
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Chapter 114
Brienne X
She kept her eyes straight ahead on the column and refused to engage with anyone, least of all Jaime. They still rode their horses next to one another, but he didn't acknowledge her or look at her. If she happened to catch his eyes, they seemed to always be burning with resentment, which just made her angrier. While they still shared the same tent, Jaime had taken to sleeping with his back to her and she to him. She was beginning to wonder who would be the first to bridge the gap between them, but for now, it was a mile wide.
Ser Addam had noticed their quiet and distance. At first, he had been amused, no doubt thinking it was a mere lovers' spat and that Jaime's plan to make love to her on the road had fallen flat. However, his first attempt to soften the tension was met with Jaime's murderous glare. He stopped his efforts and an oppressive silence hovered over their party.
How could this be? she thought. It was madness. It couldn't be real. She had responded to it like it had been a particularly fanciful yarn featuring him as the main character, but it hadn't sunk in until they were riding back to the column that he wasn't jesting or simply telling tales. She didn't want to believe it. To do so would be to believe that Jaime was capable of being such a monster. Yet there was little else she could do against the story.
While she stood against the traditions for her sex, she was only too aware of how little anyone else cared about her. If she attempted to tell anyone else that Jaime was touched in the head, they would undoubtedly turn on her. There was no one she could trust who would listen. The way Jaime told it, the king himself had been an equal participant. There was no one of higher authority than he.
Brienne couldn't keep herself from turning all of it over in her head. At no point in her life had she felt such a mess of emotions as she did now. There was disbelief, sadness, horror, disgust, but most of all anger. It brought her back to the time when Renly had taken the Red Keep for himself. While he addressed her cordially, none of the other men had. They were constantly teasing, prodding, and poking her. Countless times she had been on the wrong end of a joke. She created a wall to protect herself and made it so no one could see how it affected her.
Then Jaime had come along and seemed to see right past her wall. He hadn't made light of her aspirations to be a warrior. He had teased, but she had sensed no malice in it. He was warm with her when he often wasn't with anyone else. She hadn't wanted to believe it and then felt vindicated when he'd yelled at her over Ser Osmund Kettleblack.
That time he was the one to swallow his pride and bridge the gap. There had been a small amount of resistance, but her wall had easily collapsed. She had been wanting love for so long and wanted to make her father proud by continuing the Tarth line. Not only was she finally married, but she had made a match that so many other young noble ladies would have died for. Her wedding day was the most terrifying and the happiest day of her life.
All of those good feelings were swept away in a single afternoon and Jaime had the gall to be mad at her? She didn't quite understand it. Ever since his anger over Kettleblack, he had been patient and understanding with her. Except when it came to the subject of his bastard son by Cersei, Cassian. Her expression darkened over the thought. Suddenly his volatile overprotectiveness of him became that much clearer. Was he actually pleased that he had one last memento from his sister and their relationship in the form of the child? Throughout his retelling of the story, he had admitted to his sins and only spoke of Cersei in the most loathing of tones. But she didn't quite understand how he could go from willing to commit incest in the eyes of the Gods to speaking her name like it was a foul word. His face had been a hurricane of anger and hate whenever he spoke of her. She wanted so desperately to believe that his enmity towards his sister was real.
But she had been burned multiple times before. It would be just her luck to have three failed betrothals and now a sham of a marriage. She thought the Gods had smiled upon her only to discover now that it had been in mockery.
He loves you! He does not love her! The thought kept looping around her head, but she deliberately quashed it. She was not about to be made a fool again. But her heart tugged as she remembered the look on his face when he spoke of her. No, of the Brienne he knew. If what he told her was true, she would admit no small admiration for her other self. That Brienne was bold. Far bolder than she'd ever been. Stealing away with Lady Catelyn and swearing revenge against Stannis for murdering Renly. Going against the entirety of the North to fulfill her lady's orders to escort Jaime to the enemy and bring back her children. Traveling the countryside with young Podrick Payne as her squire. She remembered when she had returned from their talk, she looked at Pod in a new light. Did he know about the time before?
Jaime taking Pod as his squire was an odd detail and yet it somehow made the story he told ring true. If Pod is as he says, he could not find a more loyal and dutiful man. She was not so naive to understand how difficult it was to know one's own allies. Some of the people King Aemon and Jaime surrounded themselves with made a lot more sense now. She had not known Ser Davos Seaworth until he had shown up at court with Lady Shireen Baratheon in tow, but she disapproved of his original trade as a smuggler. He was no doubt there in court and not in chains because Aemon and Jaime trusted him.
It was now clearer why Lord Bolton had been sent back North while the rest of the Northern forces lingered in King's Landing. They blatantly had not trusted Lord Bolton and for clearly good reason. Jaime hadn't skimped on the details of Lord Bolton and Ramsay Bolton's crimes in the time before. She now understood the fear and anger Jaime expressed about his son being in the hands of the "leech lord," as he'd called him.
While King Aemon had never spoken with the Tyrells before, Jaime apparently had enough dealings with them to find them marginally trustworthy. Jaime had spoken of them as overly ambitious and intelligent. In the time before, their ambition had gotten the better of them after they secured a marriage to not one, not two, but three different kings. While she cared little for politics, it was not hard to see why Margaery could have made a powerful queen, but her family did overstep itself to its destruction.
A headache began forming behind her eyes and she rubbed the bridge of her nose; it was a lot to take in. When she had gone to bed after listening to the story, her head had been spinning and she tossed and turned for what felt like hours. When she'd awakened the next morning, she had briefly forgotten where she was and why. When it flooded back, she threw back her covers in panic and poked her head out. The gray light of dawn was rising and Jaime had glanced her way, before moving stiffly to walk the perimeter, clearly having left her and Podrick to sleep all night. She had flushed at having neglected her duty but was grudgingly pleased she hadn't been forced to share a tent with him. Back with the army, they continued to share a tent, but Jaime slept on the ground on the far side. It had barely been a week and she'd already been awakened twice by the sound of him struggling with his nightmares.
They were still a week out from Riverrun. At the mere mention of the castle, Jaime's face became somehow more thunderous. Brienne didn't quite understand what could possibly inspire more anger from him. While the rain hadn't returned, a strong mist rose up through the night and persisted throughout much of the morning before dissipating to reveal yet another gloomy day. She looked forward to spending even just one night in a real bed and taking some time to gather her thoughts away from Jaime. Being surrounded by the army at all times of the day was beginning to wear on her.
Until then, she was trying to come to grips with her situation. Even if she wanted out of the marriage—which she wasn't certain about—she was well and truly trapped. She had never heard of a marriage being annulled. It lasted until one died. She certainly wasn't going to kill Jaime, no matter how infuriated she was with him. And she was certain he wouldn't kill her. Would they be able to reconcile their tattered relationship? She couldn't see how when her anger was still so raw and fresh.
Crone willing, I don't want to be miserable, she pleaded, having never beseeched the Gods before. Brienne had agreed with Lady Delphine that a child would be most inconvenient and had drunk the tea when she was in King's Landing. Yet now that they were traveling, they had not been intimate since; she refused to make the army party to a moment like that. Just walking through the camp and hearing the same noises emanating from inside other tents had been enough to make her blush to her roots.
We are in this marriage forever now. I owe my father an heir if nothing else. She hoped that she would be able to return to their roles as a united front if nothing else.
They had a long road ahead of them still. She finally took her eyes off the horn of her saddle and looked forward.
|-The Dragon's Roar-|
Aemon XLIV
His restlessness had finally gotten the better of him and he paced his solar. It had been two weeks since the Ironborn attack and King's Landing was back in order. The bodies of the pirates had all been hauled away to be burned on the other side of the Kingswood. The column of smoke rising into the air was visible for miles and it took days for it to shrivel to a wisp.
According to reports from Lord Varys, the assault had left the Ironborn broken. With Euron Greyjoy dead and their largest ships destroyed by Drogon, the Ironborn had run back to the Iron Islands with their tails tucked between their legs. With their meager woodpile having been plundered for the effort, they were left with well and truly nothing. It was the perfect time to sail to them, but it would be months still until the king's fleet actually arrived. Aemon had ordered the fleet to sail a mere week after the attack.
To avoid being away from the kingdom for too long, he intended to ride to Lannisport and board the fleet there. The journey would be a mere two months instead of nearly half the year so that he could continue to manage the Seven Kingdoms and also not be apart from Daenerys.
He felt overwhelmingly protective of her once he'd learned how close she had come to death. This annoyed her and she insisted that Drogon would never have allowed any harm to befall her. It was difficult to argue otherwise since he snapped the chain and destroyed the Silence and other ships.
Drogon getting away had also made clear that the dragons were already reaching an age where they would be uncontrollable. She and Drogon were nigh inseparable and had only been apart when they'd been split by the sorcerers in the House of Ashes, yet he still hadn't heeded her cries when she was trying to keep them calm in the godswood. Was it possible at all to tame dragons? He was beginning to suspect that the history books he read about his forebears and their dragons were less than complete. How many people had been sacrificed to sate the old dragons' ever-growing appetite?
He was certain the day would come when one or more of the dragons would turn their attention to the people in their presence and decide fishing was no longer worth the effort. They were young enough for the moment that a cow a day could feel them all, but he had not forgotten the size to which they grew when he'd last seen them in the other life. A single flap of their wings was like a thunderclap; the ground trembled when they landed close by, their bodies large enough to block out the sun in flight.
While Daenerys spent an hour or two with them every day, his duties as king kept him occupied and he was only able to see Rhaegal early in the morning before the dragons went fishing. They were large enough now that they could not take off from between the trees and they had to move to the holes in the canopy to reach the air. All except for Rhaegal. It seemed he would be forever smaller. Given how large Rhaegal was in the time before, Aemon wasn't too concerned. There'd be no underground prison for their dragons.
He heard a knock at his door and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes?"
"Your Grace, the Healer David is here," Ser Preston Greenfield said.
"Send him in," Aemon ordered.
He straightened up to greet David, but didn't bother taking his seat and walked around the front of his desk to lean against it.
David was the very definition of calm and collected, but the darkness rimming his eyes and his slow blinking spoke of his exhaustion. "Your Grace," he said and even gave a tip of his head.
"How are my people handling the Ironborn crisis?"
"In the midst of seeing a large portion of them for injuries related to the Ironborn attack or having to live briefly outside the walls of King's Landing, they could be worse. However, the camps created for them were filthy and flea-ridden, so consider digging out more toilets should this happen again."
Aemon sighed again. "This was sudden."
"Even so. The filth of piss and shit seems to be the breeding ground for disease," David said, giving him a hard look.
Aemon raised his eyebrows, "Are you so sure?"
"I mingle often with both the commonfolk and the nobility; there is a distinct difference in cleanliness between the two. Seven hells, the servants in the Red Keep are forced to keep to a certain standard of cleanliness and I don't often see them with the same frequency as those who live in Flea Bottom. This has been painfully obvious in all of the cities I've healed in," David replied curtly.
"You're probably right. It will be noted to dig out more privies in the future. Anything else?"
"There are a number of merchants displeased to find that their wares were looted or destroyed during the fighting. In your defense, you warned them to leave but they refused to leave until it was too late," David said. "Most were happy that they were able to avoid being at the wrong end of a sword and praised you for fighting back the 'Ironborn scourge.' The people have a positive impression of you still, if you were concerned about that."
"That's something of a relief," Aemon said. He didn't want to care what people thought, but Jaime had insisted that it was an important aspect of being king. It shocked him when he learned that his grandfather, Mad King Aerys II, had actually been beloved by the commonfolk. They'd seen him as a good king. It threw into sharp relief how the perspectives of the commonfolk and nobility differed. He thought even his own uncle took for granted that the people in Winterfell's territory would support him. It seemed likely, but so many of the people lived outside Winterfell and had little knowledge or care of the intricacies of their lord's holdings.
"I haven't heard a cross word from anyone of noble stature either, though they tend to be more secretive. It's been difficult to keep my ear to the ground when I've been busy cleaning up the Ironborn mess and treating the wounded," David continued.
"Lord Varys has not reported any adverse behavior. If there is anyone in severe disagreement, they're being quiet about it," Aemon muttered. It couldn't be so easy that everyone was satisfied with his rule. He rubbed his chin and wondered where the next threat may come from.
Or perhaps there won't be one, Aemon mused. He had to be vigilant, but King Robert had run into few obstacles during his reign. Jaime had impressed upon him that while the reign had seemed outwardly peaceful, the depths had been turbulent with the likes of Petyr Baelish squirreling away a portion of the treasury. Not to mention Cersei cuckolding her husband and Grandmaester Pycelle helping her to hide it. But all of those people were now dead and Pycelle had been removed. Whatever new threat emerged, it would be entirely unanticipated and he would have to rely heavily on Varys and David doing their jobs.
"Speaking of … have you heard, um, anything?" Aemon asked, raising his eyebrow at David.
David blinked at him and narrowed his eyes. "About what?"
With a frustrated sigh, Aemon reached behind him to tear the corner off of a scrap of parchment and quickly jotted a single word: Varys.
David looked at it for a moment, but then let his hand fall. "No, Your Grace. The last few weeks have been nothing but chaos. I assure you, I do not let my debts go unpaid. You will get your information, but I beg that you be patient. The event in question was some time ago."
Aemon gritted his teeth to prevent himself from sighing again. Then he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He's right. Beyond asking Varys himself, finding people who might be familiar with the conflict will take some time.
"Very well. Keep me abreast of your findings," Aemon said.
David hesitated a moment and then said, "I will, Your Grace."
"You're dismissed."
David dipped his head in a tiny bow and departed.
There was little else to do on that front. He now had to focus on the real one: the Iron Islands. At the moment, the plan was to go with a few ships. It was unlikely that the Ironborn would have the strength to do more than shake a sword at them. However, if the Ironborn were foolhardy enough to attack, he wanted to make sure the army was at hand to invade. It wouldn't be long before the Iron Islands were folded back into the Seven Kingdoms. It would be one more weight off his shoulders.
United. Just as we first intended, Aemon thought with some satisfaction. He walked over to the balcony doors and peered out across the ocean and enjoyed watching the dragons wing around in the sky.
