"Congratulations, Ser Brienne. You're expecting a baby, as you suspected. I'd estimate that you're around two months pregnant," Maester Kylan announced with a small smile, after examining her.
She sat up with her face flushed from nervousness and excitement, rearranging her clothes. "This changes lots of things, I suppose," she commented, more for herself than for the man's sake.
"Certainly, my lady. You'll have to take things easy from now on, avoid exertions and stress, get enough rest, eat regularly and healthily...," the maester listed with his fingers and raising a warning eyebrow.
He knows me too well, but he's right. Now I have to think of my little one above all else. She nodded obediently. "I will."
"The king will understand, and there are enough of your comrades to cover your night shifts. By the way, in a couple of months or so, you shouldn't take guard shifts at all. It would be very tiresome for you."
She nodded once more. "I'll tell the king the news." She'd finished fixing her clothes and had stood up to leave the chamber. "Thank you, maester. Have a good day."
"Same for you, my lady," he said in return, with a kind smile.
Brienne stepped into the hallway feeling lots of things at the same time. Happiness, fear, anticipation, confusion... The first question that invaded her conscience was whether she should tell Jaime right away or not. She was aware she would have to, at some point soon. A pregnancy couldn't be hidden for long. Besides, it would be very unfair for Jaime to be kept in the dark about his own son or daughter. No matter how strained the situation between him and her was, he had a right to know that he was going to become a father. She wouldn't turn into another Cersei and deprive him of the closeness to his offspring.
It was just that she didn't feel ready to let him know yet. He might get the wrong idea, believing that she was trying to entrap him or coerce him, and that would be the last thing she'd want. She didn't need his pity or resign herself to be second best or a consolation prize. Maybe she wasn't the sort of woman men felt inclined to sigh for, but she still had enough pride and sense of self-dignity to live on scraps from a man who loved another, even if that another was dead, much more than he'd ever love her, if he was capable of developing such feelings for someone apart from Cersei.
Again, his harsh words and his abrupt departure (making the cold of that courtyard seem warm) without looking back, stabbed her heart cruelly, and she tightened her jaw with determination.
She wouldn't let him break her ever again.
Loneliness was her loyal companion since she was a child. She'd survive. And at least, now she'd never be so alone anymore. She'd have her baby to fill her life.
With a purposeful pace, she headed for the king's quarters. The two comrades on guard duty at the sides of the door smiled at her and nodded their heads in acknowledgement. She returned the smile and nod, and knocked. "It's me, Ser Brienne, Your Grace," she announced loudly.
"Come in," his flat voice sounded from inside.
She entered and there was the teenager sovereign, in his wheelchair in front of the fireplace. "Good morning, Your Grace," she greeted with a bow.
He turned his undecipherable eyes to her. "Good morning, Ser Brienne. I was waiting for you. Would you care to take me to the godswood, please?," he asked.
"It would be my pleasure," she answered, getting close to him and placing herself behind the wheelchair to push it forward.
"I'd like to talk to you on our way there, if you don't mind. How do you feel this morning, Ser?," the boy inquired, and Brienne, as so often, had the impression that his question wasn't merely a show of courtesy. She'd bet that he already knew. They left his quarters behind.
"Well, I... I've payed a visit to the maester, so he could... examine me. I'm... I'm pregnant," she revealed, blushing to the roots of her hair. It was lucky that she was behind him and he wasn't looking at her face, though he surely had guessed that she'd turned as red as a poppy. It's just unfair that he's acquired something quite alike ubiquity.
"Your symptoms pointed at that, didn't they? It's good that a child born of love is coming to the world," he commented, and Brienne almost jumped. Bran never said empty sentences or told white lies, but even so, he undoubtedly was deluding himself into believing that her baby had been conceived in love. Well, only one-sided love, in any case. Bran wasn't a god or almighty or omniscient like gods were supposed to be, though he was very close, she had to admit. Even so, he was still human and could make mistakes sometimes like anyone else.
Either way, she remained quiet, neither denying nor agreeing with his remark. He also seemed to choose to let things be and not pry.
"From today you're exempt from night duty, and in the turn of two and a half months, you'll be also released from day duty. From that moment onwards, you'll restrict your activities to supervising your brothers-at-arms and to light trainings, not more," Bran specified, and despite his unchanging tone of voice, she caught a hint of firmness he rarely used.
"As you say, Your Grace," she agreed, though inside she was wondering how she would manage not to die of boredom until the moment of the baby's delivery.
"And so you know, I've asked Ser Jaime to join the Kingsguard as soon as he's regained his strength, and he's accepted. I need experienced knights like him or yourself," he dropped in what might be considered nearly as a casual tone.
"What?," she couldn't help blurting, reddening in hardly suppressed anger. "You're aware of what he did. He turned his back on us to come join his sister. I have doubts that he can be trusted. He's a bit... fickle, don't you think?" Not to mention that he was a traitor, she was on the verge of adding. She couldn't hold back the bitterness in her tone, but she didn't care.
Bran's gaze might have passed for sympathetic. "He didn't do it as an act of treason, Ser Brienne. He did it to protect you. He can't remember any of that, but I've seen it. His purpose was to attempt to stop Cersei, to persuade her to abandon her delusions, put an end to the war and focus on living a quiet life with her baby. That way, she would leave you alone."
Bran undoubtedly was mistaken that time. He must have misinterpreted Jaime's actions, giving them a romantic meaning they lacked. He was still so young after all. "I don't aim to disrespect you with my opposition, Your Grace. I guess I don't have to quote his words to me from right before leaving Winterfell, do I?," she insisted, not budging an inch. "His true purpose was made very clear to me."
Bran's lips stretched on a sad smile. "That was what he wanted you to believe. If he succeeded in making you hate him, you wouldn't follow him South and wouldn't risk your life for him. He didn't make that decision out of love for his sister, but out of love for you. But it's perfectly understandable that you're skeptical. The path to hell is paved with good intentions, as the saying goes. Well, only time will tell and heal the wounds little by little, let's hope." The king made a pause, and his unwaveringly serene expression held a wisdom so beyond his years that she once again felt a shiver run up her spine, like so many times before. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to warg for a while." By then they'd reached the Red Keep's godswood and the only weirwood tree in King's Landing and probably in many miles around.
Brienne bowed and stood guard at a respectful distance from Bran, digesting everything they'd talked about, and making quite a fruitless effort to push it to the back of her mind, as far away from the forefront of her thoughts as possible.
