Brienne had been left speechless by Ser Jaime's last sentence, said in jest undoubtedly, but even so, it was a topic too awkward and embarrassing to joke about it.
Honor would compel me to ask for your hand in marriage.
Yes, it could be nothing but a joke. Because how would he, in his right mind, contemplate even the slightest possibility of a marriage arrangement with her? She didn't dare risk a glance in his direction, for fear of what she might find in his eyes. Mockery. Disgust. Horror.
"Then let's do our best to prevent that from happening," she countered, trying to keep her voice light. "We wouldn't want you to be saddled with someone like me." She didn't say that in self-pity; she said it in down-to-earth resignation. She'd come to terms with being nondesirable years back, as a very young girl. Her septa had helped her see and accept that fact.
She sensed Ser Jaime turning his head to her sharply. "Why do you say that, my lady? You shouldn't think so poorly of yourself," he protested, but although his words sounded honest and a bit shocked, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was just being polite to spare her feelings.
"Come on, Ser. Haven't you truly taken a look at me?," she asked, snorting in an unladylike manner. What did it matter if she behaved unwomanly? She wasn't a lady, as much as he insisted on calling her that, just out of courtesy, because what else could he call her that would be considered polite? Because they hadn't reached such a degree of intimacy as to start calling each other by other more informal names. But either way, in her, lady was a wasted word.
"Yes, I have," he asseverated firmly. "And I don't see anything that makes me think I'd be saddled with you." He declared that with such conviction that she shuddered in astonished disbelief. He couldn't be serious.
"Lady Brienne, please, look at me," he whispered then, so softly that his voice was like a caress on her bruised heart. She raised her reluctant eyes to him and the softness in his expression almost undid her. "I'd be honored to make a match with you, if such occurrence came to pass. Don't doubt even for a second that I'd regard myself as an extremely lucky man if that were the case."
She turned away again, with a racing heart and the sting of tears burning her eyes. "I've been deceived and ridiculed before, so forgive me for my skepticism. But at bottom, everything I've been told about my appearance and my failure at fulfilling my role as a woman is the truth. Nothing that has been thrown at me in mockery or malice deviates from the reality of what I am."
"My lady, please," he pleaded, and in that occassion he lightly grazed her chin with his fingertips. That tender gesture made her turn her wary stare to him once more, and she fought to suppress the shiver that ran down her spine at his touch and intense gaze. If all that was a joke made in bad taste, then Jaime Lannister was as cruel as the tales claimed his house to be. "Those who have hurt you are fools, blind dimwits incapable of seeing beyond their closed-minded views. I know it's easier said than done, but don't pay them any heed. Don't allow their cruelty to crush you. Do you know what my brother would advise? As you can guess, he's been made fun of and despised for all his life, and not only by outsiders. Well, he would say something like: Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you. Tyrion uses his tongue like knights use their swords." Ser Jaime paused, letting go of her chin. She immediately missed the physical contact. "Don't let them upset you. They only have power over you to the extent you allow them to." Then he recovered his mischief momentarily, smiling. "And you can also kick their asses hard in revenge. I attest to your undeniable skill."
Brienne let out a chortle. "I've sometimes done it. I've kicked some bastards' asses hard. The last one was my third betrothed."
Ser Jaime almost choked in surprise. "Your third betrothed?"
"Yes. Last year, my father arranged me a match with Ser Humfrey Wagstaff. A couple of months ago, he came for our first meeting, and he told me in no uncertain terms that I'd have to act like a proper lady once we were married. I replied that I would only comply with those demands if the man making them was capable of defeating me in combat. He accepted the challenge and he ended up with a few broken bones and a bruised ego. Needless to say, the betrothal was called off immediately. That same day, my father promised me that he wouldn't try to arrange more matches," Brienne narrated, and a surge of satisfaction warmed her at the remembrance of that old goat getting what he deserved.
Ser Jaime laughed loudly, and his eyes sparkled with mirth. "I'd have given anything to see that. You should have also cut his cock for good measure."
Brienne blushed and giggled. "He was an old man in his late sixties. I spared some of his bodily parts due to his age."
He tsked. "That's a common mistake, my lady. Look at Walder Frey. He's nearing seventy and the realm has already lost count of how many offspring he's sired and goes on siring, and of how many wives he's had, not to mention all the women he's forced himself on, because very few of sound mind would consent to allowing that worm to touch them. I'm certain that he hasn't ever met a girl or woman who's gone to his bed willingly. And he'll continue on that despicable way until the day he kicks the bucket. So, there's no such thing as sympathy for a rat, no matter how old it is."
Brienne laughed with him and instantly felt much better. "You're right. No pity for rats. That should be the motto of a house out there."
"I'm sure it is. Probably from Dorne," he quipped, and Brienne cackled uncontrollably. No pity for rats sounded like a very Dornish motto indeed.
She then caught a strange glint in his eye, and felt heat in her gut. That man had made her lower her guard at fast speed, and that thrilled and scared her to death.
She hadn't felt anything that strong even with Renly. She'd been in love with him in secret since the previous year, when he was such a gentleman to her at the ball and rescued her from all those cretins. But now, even that infatuation was beginning to pale in comparison to what Jaime Lannister was making her feel. And it was dangerous, terribly dangerous. And could only lead to heartbreak and pain.
Because a man like him could never be hers, or love her. Not only because she held no political value for his house, but also because he'd never choose her, having an entire realm with beautiful women to choose from. Not even men from a much lower station than him bothered to consider her a match, so why would he, the son of the Great Lion, the most powerful lord in the Seven Kingdoms?
Ser Jaime must have noticed the sudden change in her mood, because his face switched from laughter to concern in just a couple of seconds. And it looks so genuine. "Are you all right, my lady? Have I said something that has upset you?"
She rushed to shake her head. "No, Ser Jaime. Don't worry about that. It's just... I'm tired. I think I should go back to the castle." She made the effort to compose herself and rein in her facial expression, turning it into a blank mask. His father used to tell her that she wore her truth in her eyes, and right that moment, the last thing she wished was for her current companion to catch a glimpse of the truth that must be in the depths of her pupils.
He seemed disappointed, but probably that was just pathetic wishful thinking on her part. He most surely must be feeling relieved to get rid of her after playing the role of doting guest for the whole afternoon. "Lead the way, my lady," he offered with a gallant hand gesture. She started to head for the area of trees.
They walked in silence for some minutes before he spoke again. "I'm sorry if I have upset you somehow, truly. It was not my intention. It was so pleasant to see you laugh. You should smile and laugh more often, my lady. If there's something I can do to help you feel better..."
The way he said my lady, as if he genuinely believed it, as if he actually regarded her as such, caressing the words with his lips and tongue... That was the worst and saddest thing of all, that he made her believe that he believed in her.
She both loved and hated those two words coming out of his enticing mouth. She'd told him that she wasn't a lady, but for some stupid reason, she didn't want him to stop calling her that, no matter that it sounded absurd in reference to her, the less ladylike woman in Evenfall Hall, and surely in many miles around, commoners included.
"Don't worry for me, Ser Jaime. It's nothing. You've been a most attentive walking companion and I'm grateful for the good time we've spent together."
After that, they continued on toward the building in silence, and she couldn't help but notice the confused glances he shot at her from time to time.
The way back to the castle had never seemed so long before.