"Did you ask her?" Jaime pulled Podrick to the side of the courtyard, a cooing happy Galladon nestled snuggly against him. It was nearly impossible for Jaime to hide the urgency of his expression. He had been pressing Pod to plead his case to Brienne for a fortnight.
Pod tried to disguise his frustration at being asked the same inquiry for the hundredth time. He exhaled loudly and shortly. "It's not exactly a topic one's former squire, now the King's Sworn Sword, broaches in polite conversation." He rolled his eyes. "Here is the King's itinerary for the next week, Ser Brienne, and by the way are you still in love with Ser Jaime?" He mocked.
Jaime raised his brow. "So perhaps in private and a bit more subtle, but yes, something like that." He offered indignantly.
Podrick shook his head, and returned Jaime's annoyed expression. "Ser Jaime." He regarded the elder knight in disbelief. "You of all people should know that she would see through such a falsehood in no time." Pod reminded him.
Jaime was silent for a moment, studying the ground. "Please, Podrick. I beg you." He urged desperately.
Podrick gave a defeated sigh. He understood that Ser Jaime loved The Lord Commander deeply. He had given her up to protect her. He had been willing to die for her, hoping his life would be the price for her safety. Now, that he found himself alive, he could not face the future without her. Although Ser Brienne would be the first to deny her emotions, Pod knew her heart belonged to Jaime Lannister. She loved him long before they battled by each other's side at Winterfell. His own heart broke for his mentor for the pain she had suffered at the loss of her love, as well as the happiness she now denied herself. He would do anything to see Ser Brienne truly reunited with Ser Jaime, yet he dreaded what her reaction would be.
Pod's head dropped in response to Jaime's appeal. "Very well." He agreed. "I shall ask her this evening." He promised.
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The dusk settled over Kings Landing so soft and golden that it was easy to imagine the city had never known a moment of siege or terror. If one tried hard enough they could almost believe that destruction had never touched its ancient roofs and pathways. It was in the garden of the Red Keep that Ser Brienne of Tarth sat, relaxing in a hidden grotto with her small babe. Her secluded hide away was set into a distant corner of the vista. It was near the cliffs and secreted by a cover of leaves. Brienne could view the calm blue waters of the sea. She could hear the distance waves, and smell the salt air. It reminded her of Tarth, her island home. The lush, slightly overgrown, green display that surrounded her provided ample protection from prying eyes, and allowed her simply to be alone with her child.
Jaime knew where she would be. He had often watched Brienne walk toward the cultivated rows, their son held close to her, after he took his leave from them at the end of the day. Podrick met Jaime in the courtyard near the Tower of the Hand, and the two made their way to the garden path that led to Brienne's sanctuary. Jaime slowed his pace as they approached. Podrick had agreed to pose his query to Brienne, and for the first time, Jaime grew uncertain of her response. His chest felt like a bottomless cavern. Suddenly, he feared the answer he may receive. Podrick sensed Jaime's uneasiness.
"Are you well, Ser Jaime?" Pod questioned, watching the older man's brow furrow.
Jaime hardly heard him. "Yes." He answered stiffly, his thoughts turning dark. What would he do if Brienne denied him?
"We can still put a stop to this fool's errand." Pod offered, hopefully.
"No." Jaime protested. "I have to know." He tried to find the strength in himself that was still certain of Brienne's love, even after all he had done.
Pod's stance deflated a bit with his sigh. He felt terrible for prying into the Lord Commander's private life, however, he had seen first hand the pain with which she still suffered. If he could somehow have a part in mending her shattered heart, Podrick would accept the embarrassment gladly. "Very well." He nodded. "Let us get on with it." He said, apprehensively.
Breathing deep and centering himself, Podrick began down the shaded path. Jaime followed, unhindered. Realizing he was being so closely followed, Pod ceased his progress, and turned. "Perhaps you should wait here." He suggested to Jaime uncomfortably.
At first, Jaime gave Pod a quizzical look, but then understood that his presence would most certainly be detrimental to their cause. "Oh, of course." Jaime nodded in agreement, as he backed away. "But I want to know everything she says." He reminded Podrick emphatically.
"Yes. Yes. I know." Pod waived him off. "I shall relay to you all Ser Brienne tells me." He hoped his report would bring Ser Jaime more hope than sorrow. Jaime nodded almost anticipating the worst.
Podrick continued alone through the garden. As he walked, his mind raced to determine where he would begin his reconnaissance. He wrung his hands trying to rehearse words he knew would fail him when the moment came. He was upon Brienne before he realized it, so deep in thought he had been. Ahead of him a few paces, she sat intently studying her babe on a small settee made of hewn branches.
Podrick stood unnoticed for a moment, and then cleared his throat to draw her attention. "Excuse me, Lord Commander." He said quietly.
Brienne shoulders rose sharply as she jumped a little, startled by Podrick sudden appearance. She had not expected her respite to be interrupted. Her head spun around to view her former squire standing nervously at the edge of the small clearing in which she sat. "Ser Podrick." She answered, relieved it had not been a stranger who had come upon her and Galladon unexpectedly. "What is it?" She questioned beginning to stand, fearful something was amiss and he had been sent to summon her.
Pod stepped forward and gestured that there was no need for Brienne to rise. "Forgive the intrusion, Lord Commander." He begged. "All is well." He assured her. Then his voice faltered self consciously. "I...I was wondering if I might have a word with you?" Pod could not bring his eyes to meet hers.
Brienne still felt as though she should be concerned at Podrick's peculiar demeanor. She scooted along the bench, making room for one more on the seat. "Please sit." She offered, motioning toward the empty space.
Pod exhaled loudly, and visibly relaxed. For some reason it seemed that sitting would make his task easier. "Thank you." He acknowledged, nervously, and moved to take his place beside her.
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Jaime paced restlessly at the entrance to the garden path, where Pod had left him. He felt as though even his skin were too tight, and he might crawl from it at any moment. So desperate he was to hear Brienne's truest feelings about him, that after a short while, he disregarded his better judgement and ventured into the dense foliage. Anyone else would have surely made their presence known with an accompaniment of thrashing through the trees and underbrush. However, Jaime was a man used to hiding in the shadows, traversing distances in stealth and secret. It was a skill learned and perfected at a young age when desire for his own sister had been his driving force. Again, the thought of Cersei sickened him. He prayed she had not cost him everything, yet again.
Like black summer rain clouds, thoughts of the monster who once controlled him were fleeting and disappeared quickly. They were little challenge to the light that Brienne brought to him. Even as he slinked through the wide leaves at the outskirts of the garden, he felt lithe and spry simply at imagining her. Within a few moments he found himself but paces from her. Jaime held his breath, waiting to see if she heard him. He thought it almost amusing that he always seemed to be hiding, eavesdropping or peering at Brienne from across some barrier of space. It was a fair comparison to the state of their relationship. 'Could what they now had together, even be considered such.' Jaime wondered. His steps halted as through the branches, Brienne came into his view. He could not see her face. She sat with her back to the woods through which he walked as quietly as if he were one of Lord Varys's little birds, or Littlefinger's spies. Even in silhouette, she stole the breath from his lungs. Jaime barely knew if his heart beat at all as her sweet voice, deep in discussion with Podrick, came to his ears.
The moments they spent at Winterfell, so happily in love, flashed through Jaime's mind as he pressed his body tight against the large wide trunk of an ancient tree. Never had he known such happiness. He had wanted to gather it all up and hold it within. He had guarded all he held dear with his life, and he was certain Brienne and Galladon now lived because of the sacrifice he had made. Although it had broken him both physically and emotionally, he could never regret the choice he had made which had saved their lives from what Cersei surely would have done to them if he had not ensured her demise. At least he could take comfort in that.
He had fallen so far from that time. Jaime had finally found the honor he had always wanted. He knew the strong true love of a good woman, and had found a joyful life in the North. Now, he was reduced to sneaking in the shadows once again. It was strange how quickly accustomed he had become to hiding and praying for any word he could learn from Brienne. He knew it was an invasion of her privacy, but he could not help himself. Was this the only way he could be close to her? Would he now always be at the edge of her life? His days were spent hoping for glimpses of his love from a distance. Although he relished caring for his son, and lived for the moments he and Brienne were together in passing, it was not enough. He was starving to love her again, to know her passions and share her life.
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Unaware of their secreted audience of one, Podrick and Brienne would have appeared more like strangers to each other, than compatriots who had witness life and death together. For a moment, he sat staring stiffly ahead of him. She watched him with confusion. As Pod grew increasingly uncomfortable in the silence, he opened his mouth to speak. Deciding against his plan of attack, his jaw clamped shut. He squirmed like a child caught in a lie. After the third try, Brienne realized she would need to lead the conversation. From his hiding place, Jaime feared Pod might squander the opportunity that had presented itself.
"Ser Podrick." Brienne tried to settle his nerves. "Was there something you needed to say to me?" She raised her eyebrows coaxingly.
Podrick smiled anxiously. "Umm." He stammered. "Well I was just..." He swallowed hard, nearly choking. Without warning, he changed the direction of his thoughts, his eyes floating downward to the drowsy babe in Brienne's arms. "That is, I have noticed that Ser Jaime is taking very fine care of young Galladon." He praised. Upon hearing the praise Jaime smiled to himself. He could not have agreed more.
Brienne's gaze fell proudly upon her cherished son. She had to admit that she could not have chosen a better caretaker for him than Jaime. However, she was not yet ready to sing the man's praises. "He has done an admirable job." She nodded approvingly, her expression cooling at the mention of her child's father. Jaime's heart fell at her emotionless description of his efforts.
A suspicion had been steadily growing within Brienne for days. She had seen Podrick and Jaime conversing in the courtyard at times during the past fortnight. Brienne assumed that some of the anger she knew Pod held against Jaime had faded. Perhaps that was just as well. It was good that the youth would have a skilled guide in her place, now that her time was filled with her duties and her son. However, for some undefinable reason, a pang of resentment filled her chest. She could not tell if the feeling was a result of someone else seeing to Pod's training, or his attachment to the man who had hurt her so deeply.
"You and Ser Jaime seem to have mended your differences." She observed, raising her chin a little too defiantly. Jaime attention peeked at the mention of his name from her lips.
Pod looked flustered as he struggled to either deny or defend his position between Brienne and Jaime. He knew not whether to present a contradiction, a justification, or an apology of guilt.
"I..." Podrick began. "I..." He struggled to explain what he perceived as her indictment of his allegiance. He feared Brienne might think his loyalty to her compromised. The thought unsettled him even more.
Brienne waved off his obvious discomfort. "It is not my business with whom you associate, Podrick." She tried to give him the best expression of disinterest she could muster. "Nor to what purpose." She assured. Unable to look at him, her eyes took the same path ahead that his had traveled a few moments earlier.
He knew that the answer to the pain that had gripped her heart since that sad cold night at Winterfell was the very man who had caused it. He knew that Brienne still loved Ser Jaime. Podrick wished that somehow he could help her believe in that love once more. Podrick thought for a moment. He could offer no acceptable explanation save for the truth.
Podrick inhaled deeply, and then looked earnestly at Brienne. "My Lady." He began, his tone laden with perhaps too much sympathy. His brow perhaps furrowed too deep with care. "I am aware that tread a steep path, and I have no rights to voice my opinion in these matters." Pod's face reddened at the personal nature of his words. "It is only out of the deepest concern for you and Galla..."
"Out with it, Podrick." Brienne interrupted, frustrated at his round about explanation. "We have been through too much, not to speak candidly with each other." There was a bond between them, and she knew whatever troubled him in regard to her situation with Jaime came from love. Her attitude softened, and she touched his elbow reassuringly. "Whatever you have to say. I will listen without judgment." She studied him with a kind intensity. Hidden several paces away, Jaime wished for her soothing touch upon his own arm.
Pod nodded. "I have come to understand that Ser Jaime's reasons for leaving Winterfell that night, are not what you believe them to be." He said, shaking his head, hoping Brienne would allow him to continue.
Brienne was silent for a moment. As if some strange magic had transported her back to that time, she again felt all she had shared with Jaime. She heard the words of love and promise which he had whispered to her as they laid wrapped in each other's arms. He had spoken of their future, of marriage, of a family. She held Galladon tighter as she recalled the hopeful gleam in his eye when Jaime told her that she was the one with whom he wanted all those things. She had believed him without question. In her heart their path toward a happy life together had already been destined. Silently, Brienne reprimanded herself for having been such a silly romantic fool. Then, darkness shrouded her mind's eye as once more she stood in the courtyard, begging him to stay. How hollow she had felt watching him go, taking with him all those dreams which she had never before allowed herself to want.
Brienne wondered if Jaime had laughed as he rode away from her, and heard again the taunts of the boys at the ball her father had given for her when she was but a girl. Surely, Jaime must have realized how precious those promises were to her. She could not believe that he willingly deceived her. However, whatever she had been to him, it had not meant enough to keep him by her side. Brienne again realized the bittersweet sting of bringing Jaime's child into the world without him, with the belief that it had not been her he wanted.
Now, she sat with that babe in her arms. They were miles from where it had all started and ended. She was making her own way in the world. Jaime had been returned to her life. Brienne wondered of the time that had passed. She could not understand why he had not made it known to her sooner that he lived. She feared that it was only obligation or the promise of an heir that now kept him near. She had convinced herself that it was Cersei for whom he truly longed.
Brienne swallowed and spoke slowly, afraid her practiced facade of apathy would crumble. "I know his reasons, Podrick." She continued at last, her throat stiff with effort. "It was someone else to whom his heart ultimately belonged, not me." A foul heat stung the back of her throat, as if the words were attacking her. Unseen, Jaime clasped even harder to the bark of the tree that hid him from view. Finally, he realized what kept Brienne from celebrating their reunion as he did. He mourned that she did not trust the fidelity of his heart for her.
Somehow as he ventured deeper into confessing Jaime's motives, Podrick felt his courage growing. He shook his head forcefully in contradiction. "It is you he loves. Truly you are the one who possess Ser Jaime's heart, My Lady." Pod blurted out. Hidden by the leaves, Jaime's heart froze with hope waiting for Brienne's response.
Brienne gave a slight, almost bitter chuckle, before pulling her emotions back into the carefully guarded vault of her heart. "I am quite sure, Ser Jaime believed he held feelings for me." She nodded. "I cannot imagine he would take advantage of me, not after all we had shared." She fought to hold back her tears.
Even from a distance, Jaime could hear the quivering lilt in Brienne's voice as she finished her denial of the possibility that his adoration was genuine. "For a while, he must have thought he loved me in some way." She rose and settled her now sleeping babe against her neck, still unable to face her young caring friend. Brienne's chest filled with pain at the memory, fearful that a few more moments would bring the sobbing she was trying desperately to control.
"Just, not enough to stay." Brienne said dryly, her voice nearly a whisper, before turning and leaving Podrick where he sat.
Although weak, Jaime heard each word of her crushing lament. He felt the painful slap she had not meant to inflict. He had hurt her beyond measure, perhaps beyond forgiveness. His legs almost unable to carry him, Jaime emerged slowly from his hiding place once Brienne had gone. He shuffled numbly to the clearing where Podrick still sat.
At the sound of the rustling leaves that scattered in Jaime's heavy wake, Podrick spoke. He did not need to look to see who was behind him, he understood that Ser Jaime had listened to every word. "You heard?" He asked, almost rhetorically.
After a moment, Jaime willed himself to answer, although his eyes never left the path over which Brienne had retreated. "I heard." He confirmed remorsefully.
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The night passed slowly and painfully for Jaime. 'For a while, he must have thought he loved me in some way? Just not enough to stay.' Brienne's words echoed in his ears, torturing him. She truly had lost all faith in his love for her and he had only himself to blame. What else could he have expected. When he left Winterfell, Jaime had determined not to tell Brienne his true purpose. He had wanted to make her hate him, so she would not follow him. It seemed, he was successful in his attempt. Now, she thought his heart true to another, to the demon from whom he sought to keep her safe. The idea brought a bitter scream to his throat. He found his tears barely sufficient to keep his shrieking at bay. Somehow, he had not made a sound during the excruciating night. He simply wallowed in the darkness, alone with his misery.
As the hours grew late, Jaime tossed and turned in his bed within the chamber Tyrion had arranged for him once he had again entered society. His distraught agony slowly gave way to anger. As evening turned to the deepness of midnight, a burning rage began to fill Jaime chest. His chest rose and fell sharply as he gave himself up to the emotion. His fury consumed him and tore at his heart. It was anger at Cersei for what she cost him. It was anger at Daenarys Targaryen for losing her armada to Cersei's forces, and making it impossible for him to stay in the North. Anger at Euron Greyjoy for inflicting the wound Jaime had been certain would kill him before he ever reached Brienne again, and at Tyrion for not telling Brienne that he had been spared from the dragon fire. Could it be? Was it even anger at Brienne, for not allowing him to explain? That was the thought that brought him bolt upright from the sweat soaked sheet, and expelled the breath from his lungs with such force he feared he may pass out. He searched his heart for a better understanding. No, he was not angry with Brienne, never with her. It was himself with whom he was furious. Jaime hated himself for having been such a fool. In the earlier hours of the morning, he vowed that the sun would not set upon the realm another day without Brienne knowing the truth.
At last, the darkness faded from the sky and the world began to take on a slate gray hue. Jaime had determined that he would explain himself to Brienne, even if she did not wish to listen. Eager to see the woman he loved, and their little babe, Jaime rose and dressed before the first rays of the sun even lit the sky. Most of the night had been spent confessing himself over and over to Brienne within his swirling brain. He swore that he would not leave one single detail unexposed when he presented his motives to her. Jaime buckled Widows Wail around his waist and rushed to the door just as a loud pounding from the other side shocked him from his thoughts.
Jaime turned the knob and threw the door aside, irritated at the intrusion, only to find Tyrion studying him from the passageway. He wore a look of relieved surprise that his brother was already awake, and readied. "So you have heard?" Tyrion asked, nodding with satisfaction.
"Heard what?" Jaime scowled. He had no time for riddles.
"Oh." Tyrion answered, a bit disappointed. "So you are not yet aware?" He spoke cryptically.
Jaime sighed in frustration as he joined Tyrion in the hall and slammed the door. "Aware of what?" He pressed, his eyes wide and annoyed. The last thing he needed was his brother interfering in his plans to explain himself to Brienne.
"The King has called an emergency session of the Small Council." Tyrion informed him, a look of worry clouding his expression.
"Now?" Jaime questioned anxiously. That meant Brienne would be occupied with Council matters. The visions he hoped for the morning were quickly fading before his eyes.
Tyrion motioned for his brother to walk with him along the corridor toward the stairway. "Yes, now?" He affirmed.
"Other than ruining my plans for the day, how does this affect me?" Jaime huffed. "I shall be busied with bathing my child and changing his napkins." Jaime almost smiled at the vision.
"King Bran has requested that you attend." Tyrion informed Jaime as they descended the stairs.
"Me?" Jaime repeated, puzzled. "I am not on the council, nor am I your assistant any longer." He wondered, perplexed.
Tyrion nodded an affirmative yet something in his gaze made Jaime uneasy. "You know something." Jaime said with certainty.
With an apprehensive scratch of his beard, Tyrion's face grew pensive and lined with concern. "I have had word from my agents in Essos." He explained. "If I am correct, you should speak to Ser Brienne about getting young Galladon out of the city." Tyrion's warned, his tone dire and foreboding.
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By the time Jaime and Tyrion reached the Small Council chamber, Brienne was already pacing around the large table, tracing a path over and over behind Ser Davos and Grand Maester Tarly. Her expression was set in a worried frown, accentuating the line between her brows that, at Winterfell, Jaime had soothed with kisses. Brienne looked up and stopped in her tracks when he entered the chamber behind Tyrion.
"What are you doing here?" Brienne questioned Jaime, unable to conceal her shock.
Tyrion answered before Jaime could speak, giving an official air to the presence of his brother. "King Bran has specifically expressed his wish that Ser Jaime attend." The news only added to Brienne's sense of uneasiness.
"It seems you know as much as I do." Jaime told her, searching for something he could say to comfort her but finding nothing. "Where is Galladon?" It was he who would normally be caring for their son, and Jaime could not hide his uncertainty at who might have been assigned the task in his absence.
Samwell Tarly cleared his throat. "Forgive me, Ser Jaime. Excuse the interruption." He began nervously. "My wife, Gilly, has just arrived in the city with our children. She is watching over the babe for the day." He said with a caring smile.
Brienne returned Sam's grin. The page who had summoned her earlier that morning had relayed to her King Bran's wish for her to give Galladon's care over to someone besides Jaime for the day. She was comforted that it was Gilly who would see to her child's needs. The woman had helped Brienne deliver Galladon, and had often cared for him at Winterfell. The serene expression and nod she returned to the Grande Maester helped Jaime relax. Apparently Brienne was satisfied that their child was safe.
Ser Bronn was the last to arrive. Everyone in the room noticed he was far from his usual swaggering boisterous self as he slinked to his chair, and slumped over the table, his head in his hands. "Well, so good of you to join us, Ser Bronn." Tyrion raised his voice so as to be sure to aggravate the condition which was obviously afflicting the Master of Coin.
"Ah!" Bronn groaned and held his head tighter, squinting in the dim light of the Council chamber. "Keep it down, Lord Hand." He demanded. "Ma head's gonna explode." He declared through a dry mouth.
Tyrion chuckled. "Too much wine, or too many women?" He quipped at Bronn who remained silent, closing his eyes against a day that had begun far too early.
Ser Davos raised his eyebrow, and regarded Bron with a disgusted smirk. "I imagine both." He interjected. Bronn only smiled sickly at the memory. Before the conversation could become too detailed with a lady present, The King at last entered. He was attended as usual by Ser Podrick. The council stood at his arrival.
"Thank you all for assembling so promptly." Bran bid them cordially, "I apologize for the early hour." Bran stole a half amused look at Ser Bronn, who attempted valiantly to stand.
"Ser Jaime." Bran called as he was wheeled to the head of the table. "Thank you for joining us. Please have a seat." Bran motioned toward the empty chair next to Brienne. Jaime nodded his understanding and sat as he was told, although a bit uncomfortably. Brienne's eyes grew wide with confusion, and she nearly jumped in astonishment wondering what Bran's inclusion of Jaime could possibly mean. Brienne was still wracking her brain for some explanation as she acknowledged the King's order and sat on the edge of her chair.
"Why do I get the the feeling that whatever you have to impart to us, Your Grace, the news is not welcome?" Ser Davos questioned.
Bran lowered his head for a moment and drew a long breath. "You are quite perceptive Ser Davos." He answered. The council studied him anxiously. "With Lord Tyrion's help, we have received word that the troop amassment our agents have been observing in Essos has more than doubled." Bran reported, his voice absent any emotion over the situation. He nodded at Tyrion to continue.
Tyrion bowed respectfully. "My sources have also noted that those troops have begun marching toward their western coast." He eyed Jaime and Brienne intently, certain they would understand what the troop movement meant.
"Attack?" Jaime was the first to state the fear of everyone at the table.
"Now would be an opportune time for enemies to make an attempt upon the realm." Brienne added.
"Are we talking about a foreign army invading the capital?" Ser Davos asked, memories of Blackwater Bay, and loss of his son, assaulting his thoughts.
Tyrion spoke cautiously, unable to discern the enemy's true intent. "We fear that if they attack, it will either be in the North, where forces are gravely depleted, or..."
"Here." Jaime finished Tyrion's sentence, gravely.
"Yes." Tyrion concurred. "This city is the seat of the Westerosi government, and it is still rebuilding from Daenarys Targaryen's siege." He listed. "We are as weak as the North." He concurred.
"It also where our King resides." Brienne added with alarm.
"It would not be out of the question to assume that Kings Landing would be a target." Tyrion agreed. Jaime and Brienne eyed each other, sharing a look of fearful dread, both envisioning one urgent thought, Galladon.
"We have dispatched what is left of our naval fleet." Bran informed them. "However, as you know, many of our ships were also lost in the dragon fire." He reiterated. "It is doubtful the remaining armada could hold off an attack." He said pragmatically.
"The best we can hope is a warning." Tyrion described. "We will anchor our fleet at intervals along the coast. They will send word if an enemy armada is sighted." He said, almost apologetically.
"That seems like very little protection." Jaime said heatedly. "Westeros has almost no army. Our Navy is in tatters. There are few able men left to guard the most likely points of attack, and forgive me You Grace, but you do not even have a Master of War appointed to your Small Council." Jaime's expression pleaded with King Bran for urgency. In response, Bran's calmness almost angered Jaime. All he could think of was the danger that could threaten Brienne and Galladon.
Bran regarded Jaime distantly. "That is why I have asked you to join us." He said calmly. Jaime regarded the King with weary surprise as he continued. "It is my hope that you will accept an appointment to this Small Council, as Master of War." Bran said ceremoniously.
Suddenly, Jaime was reminded of the first meeting he had attended with Bran and his Council, in the very room in which they were now engaged, when he had first returned from near death. He had warned King Bran then, when word was first received of a possible Essosi offensive, about his lack of a Master to lead the troops. Jaime recalled the young ruler's answer. 'As for the Master of War seat, it will be filled in due time and with the right person, you have my word.' Bran's words from that day echoed in his mind. He understood that he was the man of whom Bran had spoken. The three-eyed-Raven had known of this eventuality all along. Perhaps this was the only way he could protect Brienne and their son. Jaime wondered what else Bran saw in their future, but knew he could not refuse the King's request.
Jaime bowed his head reverently. "It would be my honor, Your Grace." He accepted. For a moment, Jaime allowed himself to enjoy the possibility of returning to life as a soldier. He had a gift for military strategy, and he welcomed the chance to serve King Bran. Then, Jaime remembered the glorious days spent caring for his son and what he was giving up. He stared at Brienne, did he see a faint regret in her eyes as well? "That is if a suitable replacement can be found to care for my..." Jaime corrected himself, all while never taking his eyes from Brienne. "For Galladon." He qualified his answer to the King.
Bran studied Jaime's answer for a moment, and then spoke. "Grande Master Tarly." Bran directed his quandary to Samwell. "Would Lady Tarly be agreeable to caring for Ser Brienne's child while the Lord Commander tends to her duties?" He asked.
Samwell smiled wildly at Brienne. "Of course." He answered. "Gilly often cared for Little Galladon at Winterfell. She thinks the world of him. I am sure she would love the chance to watch over him again." He nodded, happily.
Bran shifted his attention to Brienne. "Would that be agreeable to you, Lord Commander?" He asked the child's mother.
Brienne glanced at Jaime. She had not realized how she had become accustomed to his daily presence, and she knew Galladon would miss his father's attention. Then as quickly as her mind regretted losing Jaime's nearness, Brienne reminded herself that surely it was only duty that kept him bound to them, an order of the King. It had been another child he wanted, not hers. It had been another babe and another mother for whom he had left her, for whom he had left them. She needed no further deliberation on the matter. As she spoke, Jaime watched her face fall in disappointed grief. The way it had that night at Winterfell.
"Of course, Your Grace." Brienne answered resolutely. "I could think of none better to care for him." She turned from Jaime so he would not see the heartbreak in her eyes.
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The remainder of Jaime's day was filled with the necessities and duties of ensuring the protection of Westeros. He had left the Small Council meeting with his head reeling, and his heart hurting. He had never expected to find himself in the role of Master of War, especially on the eve of a possible invasion. Before that morning, Jaime had imagined he would simply go on caring for the child he shared with Brienne indefinitely. At least, he hoped that would be the case. The thought of not seeing his son each day, of not seeing Brienne, filled him with a pain almost too intense to bear.
Jaime had not donned his armor in weeks, not since he began caring for Galladon. Once the meeting of the Small council had adjourned he returned to his quarters and outfitted himself in a manner more befitting the Realm's new Master of War. Upon tightening the plates around himself, the heavy leather clad steel felt somehow unfamiliar to him. Where once his body and his armor had seemed as one, it was now another barrier that kept him from those he loved. Jaime saddened at the thought that he wished he were preparing Galladon's morning bath.
There was no doubt in Jaime's mind that he could easily fulfill the expectations of his new position. That was not what troubled him. What held his heart gripped in panic was fear for the safety of Brienne and their child. He knew that it would take an act of the Gods to cause Brienne to leave her post. However, perhaps Tyrion had been right when he suggested that Galladon be sent from the city. But where? Would anywhere in the realm be safe?
By midday, Jaime wondered if he would ever again find the time to sit with Brienne, much less the opportunity to declare all that he needed her to know. Although he knew the work he undertook was of the utmost importance, Jaime's mind still wondered to the details of Galladon's day, hoping Gilly Tarly was as diligent as he would be in ensuring his son's comfort and care. He worried that the boy might miss him, and found himself longing terribly for his child. As the sky's light dimmed toward evening, Jaime grew more dejected, and irritable.
It was Tyrion who stumbled upon his brother, just as Jaime was about to lose the last of his temper upon a pile of parchments detailing the weaponry that protected Kings Landing. "I say, Brother." Tyrion shouted merrily as he entered Jaime's new solar near the armory. "Are we well armed, or should I worry?" He joked, trying to lighten the mood of a heavy and disturbing day. The atmosphere in the Keep had hovered between fearful and dire all day, and Tyrion hoped a visit to check on Jaime in his new position would cheer his own outlook. One glance at Jaime, and that expectation was dashed.
Jaime threw Tyrion a dark scowl as he looked up from his desk. "We are more than well armed, but you should worry that I will snap and be the one making use of all those weapons." He warned.
"Oh, come now." Tyrion chided as he sat in the chair across from Jaime. "It can't be all that bad." He said nonchalantly tilting his head and grabbing up a long piece of paper to study, only to toss it back onto the table, instantly bored by all the lists and numbers.
Jaime sighed in annoyance. "Oh, it can't be all that bad?" He mocked. "Well, you tell me." Jaime seethed. "When this day began, my only care was to explain myself to Brienne, and make her finally listen to me." His eyes grew distant imagining that chance he was certain he had lost. "Now it seems I have the safety of the entire Realm in my hands." He leaned against his chair and stretched the knots from his back.
Tyrion stoked his chin. "Yes. I suppose this was all sprung upon you rather suddenly." He agreed.
"I have no idea when I will get the chance even to see Brienne, or my son." Jaime lamented.
Tyrion interrupted Jaime's self pity. "You present the appearance of a man in desperate need of a drink." He offered.
Jaime shook his head. "It will be hours yet, before I am finished with all of this." He waved his hand over the mountain of parchment.
Tyrion rolled his eyes. "I will not accept no for an answer." He said, jumping from his seat and sliding around the table. "The Essosi are not going to attack tomorrow, For The Gods' sake." He declared, pulling Jaime to his feet. "This will wait." He promised. "Come, let us celebrate your...promotion." He smiled gleefully.
"Promotion?" Jaime huffed. He thought that sort of honor was supposed to bring about positive changes in one's circumstances.
Tyrion understood how his brother had relished taking care of the child Brienne had given him. He knew the time spent away from either of them was painful for Jaime. He regarded the elder Lannister with a sympathetic look. "We have not yet drunk to the health and good fortune of your boy." Tyrion said. "You cannot decline that celebration." Tyrion tried again.
Jaime deflated a little, visibly relaxing at the mention of Galladon. "Very well." He almost smiled. The truth was that after the day he had just experience, the promise of a tall goblet of the local brew seemed quite welcome.
"Excellent." Tyrion clapped his hands together, rubbing them delightedly, as he ushered Jaime toward the door.
The streets of Kings Landing were still bustling with crowds in the dim evening as Tyrion escorted Jaime to his favorite drinking establishment. It was a small hole-in-the-wall tavern, far enough from the Keep so as not to cause embarrassment for the King, but still close enough that people would know who Tyrion was. Jaime felt completely out of place as a busty serving wench with whom Tyrion seemed to be acquainted showed them toward a table near the fire. He almost never frequented these types of locales, and wondered what Brienne would think of him in such a place.
"Pitcher of your finest vintage." Tyrion ordered, pinching the woman's reddened cheek. Jaime could not tell if the hue of her skin was from tinting or from imbibing the offerings of her place of employment. Tyrion threw a few coins upon the table for the woman, to ensure her utmost attentiveness. She snapped them up and deposited them within her bodice, between her breasts, before turning to see to his order.
"It seems you are well known here." Jaime chuckled. He barely got the words out of his mouth when the woman returned with a large pitcher of red wine, and two pewter goblets. The speed at which their order was filled affirmed Jaime's declaration.
Tyrion laughed with self-satisfaction. "Brother." He said, his eyes twinkling. "I am well known everywhere." He affirmed, certain of his celebrity as he filled Jaime's cup to the brim. "A toast." Tyrion insisted, raising his goblet. "To the Master of War." He announced. Jaime almost cringed at the title, but met Tyrion's gesture of goodwill, for luck if nothing else. Noticing his brother's less than joyful acceptance of the sentiment, Tyrion added a wish he knew Jaime could not fault. "And to young Galladon. May he grow to be strong and wise, and always basque in the glow of love." This was met with a wide smile from the child's father as their goblets chimed in resounding agreement.
Tyrion downed half his first serving in one gulp. For Galladon, Jaime took a large sip, pacing himself. Once his thirst had been quenched, Tyrion's face grew serious. "The business of the Realm can wait." He said seriously. "Tell me what it was you planned to say to Brienne to persuade her to give you another chance." His brows rose, eager to hear Jaime's argument.
Jaime at first felt a bit suspicious at Tyrion's sudden interest in his love life. However, he realized that it was his brother he had to thank for this second chance. Tyrion was the one who had saved him from the rubble, the one who had nursed him back to health. He knew Tyrion's concern was genuine. Slowly, Jaime opened his heart, and the more he spoke, the easier it became to pour out his feelings for Brienne. The brothers talked as the hours flew past, a bond of comradery shared between them. They were lost in conversation when a familiar loud and already drunken voice interrupted their night.
"The fookin' Lannister brothers." Bronn laughed as he stood over their table. Jaime and Tyrion looked up, annoyed.
"Ah. Ser Bronn." Tyrion raised his cup, as Bronn pulled up a chair and sat uninvited. "A purveyor of the obvious as usual." He observed.
Bronn answered with a half smiling, half sneering nod, and motioned for the serving wench to bring more wine. He intended to take full advantage of Tyrion's generous nature. Bronn glanced at Jaime with an amused smile. "Rough day?" He chuckled.
"No more than usual." Jaime scoffed, lying. He was certainly not going to give Bronn the amusement of learning that his first day as Master War had not gone smoothly.
"Well then." Bronn smiled, his expression a bit too disbelieving for Jaime's liking. "To your success." Bronn toasted.
Tyrion clanked goblets with the Master of Coin in loud agreement. "Here, here!" He joined in the well wishing. Jaime raised his own cup politely, and took weary sip.
The men sat for still a few hours longer. Tyrion and Bronn grew steadily more inebriated while Jaime enjoyed the entertainment. He had to admit, their performance was far more preferable than the paperwork he had left waiting for him in his solar. The truth was, Jaime was enjoying himself. The only thing he would have found more agreeable would have been spending the evening in Brienne's company.
"Tell me, Ser Bronn." Tyrion's slurred invitation brought Jaime's attention back from his own thoughts. "Was it truly that we offered you a greater opportunity to gain your revered castle than our sister, or that you feel true friendship, for me and my brother here?" Tyrion pointed at one of the Jaimes he saw circling in his field of vision. Jaime realized his brother was more than a little drunk. Tyrion would have known better than to mention Cersei in his presence otherwise. Jaime coldly stared at the men across the table from him. This was not a conversation in which he wished to participate.
Bronn snorted so hard at Tyrion's question that he choked himself. In clearing his throat, Bronn spilled half of his goblet across the table. The lost wine splashed onto Jaime's gambeson, and dripped onto his britches. More interested in Bronn's answer to Tyrion's question, Jaime simply brushed the alcohol from his garments, and moved his chair a bit to avoid any further contact. In the meantime, ever vigilant to the table of one of her best customers, the bar maid scurried over and quickly sopped up the spilled alcohol, smiling sweetly at Tyrion. Jaime's eyes never left Bronn's hardened face.
"Yes, Ser Bronn." Jaime repeated for his brother. "Exactly what made you accept our offer over...hers?" The liquor he had swallowed theatened to return up his throat at the thought of Cersei."
Bronn's voice became deadly serious. "That evening in the North, when I caught up to you in that Tavern in the Winter Town..." he began.
"You mean when you almost took my head with that crossbow?" Jaime said venomously, still obviously holding a grudge.
Bronn smiled nonchalantly. "A small miscalculation, and an itchy finger." He answered, not at all remorseful.
"Yes. When you informed us of the price on our heads." Tyrion said impatiently. "Why was it that you were unconcerned about Cersei's revenge upon you, if you had not carried out her orders?" He asked, suddenly very interested.
Bronn's eyes twinkled. "There was no way in the Hells even her army, which outnumbered the Targaryen girl's forces two to one, would have been any match for two dragons." He answered with certainty. "That sister of yours wouldn't have lived to see another sunrise if Euron Greyjoy hadn't ambushed the Dragon Queen's fleet and killed one of those monsters." Bronn explain.
"And you would never have received your compensation, with her dead." Jaime deduced.
"Exactly." Bronn lifted his goblet, congratulating himself on his own cunning.
Tyrion's brow furrowed. "But what if by some horrible twist of fate she had lived? Surely, after the ambush by the Iron Fleet that was a distinct possibility." He questioned, eager to hear Bronn's logic.
"The Queen was an evil cunt, but the bitch wasn't stupid." He nodded, almost in admiration while neither Jaime nor Tyrion gave any indication of being insulted at his denigration of their late sister. Bronn continued with a sinister glint in his eye.
"Alright, let's say Queen Cersei had won, and kept her seat upon the Iron Throne." He conceded. "You're right, after Greyjoy killed that dragon, and wiped out half of the Targaryen forces, it very well could have ended that way." Bronn agreed. "What do you think would have been waitin' for me when I returned to collect my payment?" He sat back in anticipation while clarity struck Jaime and Tyrion. It did not take long.
Tyrion nearly choked on his own wine, realization dawning. "The point of a sword, and a spike for your head." He acknowledged in understanding. "She would have killed you." He added unnecessarily.
Bronn tipped his cup to Tyrion's intuition. "She would have slit my throat as sure as I'm sittin' here." He agreed, and took a long hard gulp. "That's why I road North." He smiled. "I knew at least you two shits would keep your word." He took another drink.
"Playing both ends against the middle?" Tyrion asked rhetorically, with an appreciative grin.
"Hedgin' ma bets." Bronn sighed with self-satisfaction, raising his cup once more before downing it in one swallow.
"How are things at Highgarden, these days?" Tyrion echoed Bronn's toast, referencing the castle Bronn had earned from the deal.
"Splendid, My Lord." Bronn sighed happily. "Just Splendid." His expression peaceful and serene.
"We owe you our lives, Ser." Jaime agreed.
Bronn turned ominously toward Jaime. "You owe me a damn site more than that." He remarked darkly.
"What are you talking about?" Jaime felt a chill run up his spine, as if Cersei's cold dead hand had reached from the grave and grasped him by the throat.
Bronn peered unflinchingly at Jaime. "You and your brother were not my only bounty in the North." Bronn admitted.
Jaime leaned forward, sensing something dire in Bronn's tone. "What do you mean?" He demanded.
"I mean I had other targets there." His eyes narrowed wickedly. "One in particular." His stare bored a hole through Jaime.
The words Bronn had thought were a veiled threat came echoing sharply back into Jaime's mind. "What you said that night in the tavern, about 'picking off a few of the Dragon Queen's top Generals.'" He repeated, fear and hatred in his tone. "Brienne was one of those Generals." Jaime gulped. "Your words were more than a warning." He glared at Bronn.
Ser Bronn again raised his goblet to Jaime's deduction. "That was already a done deal, Lord Master." He hissed. Jaime felt his blood boil as he gritted his teeth and did his best not to strangle Bronn on the spot.
Bronn bent across the table to meet Jaime, now as an equal. He spoke slowly, finally ready to rid himself of the secret he had kept. "Before I left Kings Landing, your sister sent for me." Bronn scowled, remembering the night of interrupted debauchery with three of his favorite young beauties. "The Queen Bitch wanted no witnesses to that meeting. Even that gnarled old demon Qyburn was sent away." He laughed, before his glare turns deathly serious. "It seemed Cersei had one more name to add to my kill list. Offered me more than double the worth of both of you put together." He told Jaime slyly.
Jaime swallowed against the dryness that had formed in his mouth. "Who?" He asked already aware of the answer, his jaw set like steel. He wanted to hear it from Bronn's own mouth. The hero of The Blackwater was silent for a moment, even his calloused heart found it hard to look Jaime in the eye at that moment.
"Who were you supposed to kill?" Jaime pounded his fist on the table, and moved toward Bronn as if he would tear the words from him. He was certain he already knew the answer.
Bronn took a deep breath before speaking in a low voice, deadly serious. "Brienne of Tarth." Bronn admitted. "The Queen wanted her head." He said, and then fell silent waiting for Jaime's reaction.
Jaime leaned against the back of his chair, in shock. The color drained from his face as images of what might have occurred tormented his brain. He could not speak. Cersei was vicious, vindictive, and cruel. Yes, he knew that. He also realized how far her hatred could reach. It was what he had feared the most. He had been right all along. What he did to protect Brienne, had been the only course of action he could have taken. Cersei would never have stopped, they would have never been safe. Ensuring that Cersei died, had saved Brienne. Gods, it had saved Galladon as well. The world spun around him as Jaime came to terms with the horrible truth.
"I was correct, when I judged your little speech a threat to Brienne." Jaime breathed a deep relieved sigh that he had indeed protected her.
Tyrion watched Jaime struggling to hold onto any shred of control. He directed the conversation back to Bronn, for fear that bloodshed might cause him to be unwelcome in his favorite drinking establishment. "That was a great deal of money." Tyrion noted. "Yet, you refuse it?" He questioned either the man's motives or his judgment.
Bronn shrugged his shoulders as if the value of Cersei's offer meant nothing to him. "I don't fancy killin' women, even one who could take ma head off in a fair fight." He said, as if he were suddenly virtuous. Bronn did not reveal that his first kill at a young age had been a women, nor did he mention he had always hated that fact. Jaime felt his pride in Brienne giving him strength.
"Why did you not tell me directly?" Jaime rasped from across the table. "When we spoke in the North. When you nearly skewered me with your crossbow. Why be so coy." Jaime studied Bronn suspiciously. "Why didn't you make it known that Cersei had put a price on Brienne's head?" He questioned, his fingers drawn into a tight fist to control the shaking that had seized his muscles. When he had first learned of Cersei's plot against Tyrion and himself, Jaime knew he had put Brienne in danger, it was not until this very moment that he realized just how much.
Bronn stared at Jaime, his expression dark. "What would have done, if I had told you that I had come to kill your woman?" His eyes narrowed, waiting for the answer he was certain Jaime would give.
"You would not have left that tavern alive." Jaime hissed. He would have flayed the flesh from Bronn's bones if he had known, rather than allow any risk to Brienne's life,
"Aye, and I value my own neck a Hells of a lot more than any purse your crazy sister pretended she would give me." He chuckled. "You did exactly what I wagered you would do. You ensured my fortune and neck would both remain intact, Ser Jaime, when you held that bitch queen under the rubble to die." He proclaimed, downing the last of his wine, and rising from his seat. "You very nearly sacrificed yourself for the woman you love. Such a noble deed." Bronn bowed low to Jaime in feigned reverence. "One that benefitted us both." He chuckled.
"Lord Hand." Bronn bowed at Tyrion. "Thank you for the wine." He said in gratitude to Tyrion's unoffered hospitality.
"Don't mention it." Tyrion rolled his eyes.
Bronn gave the brothers another wide smile as he turned to leave. "Ser Bronn." Jaime stopped him. Bronn pivoted to face Jaime Lannister once more. The men stared at each other for a moment.
"Thank you." Jaime conceded. His words were gratitude that Bronn had not carried out his mission.
Bronn understood. He tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Now, stop bein' a little bitch, and get busy winnin' back your lady." He challenged before he left them. Tyrion nearly made himself sick laughing.
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A few moments later, Jaime and Tyrion found themselves trodding the now darkened empty streets, returning to the Red Keep. Tyrion was still giggling over Bronn's last comment. Jaime was sullen and quiet. "Why so glum, Brother?" Tyrion inquired. "You just discovered that you cheated certain death not once, but twice." He smiled, patting Jaime's elbow. "One would think you would be in better spirits." He noted.
Jaime stopped in his tracks as they traversed a dim, narrow walkway. "That monster ordered her death, Tyrion." Jaime gulped. "Cersei ordered Brienne killed." He spoke in horror. Tyrion was silent, sensing Jaime's need to make sense of the news in his own mind.
"I knew Cersei suspected there was something between us at the Dragon Pit." Jaime continued, almost to himself.
Tyrion recalled Jaime's face as he passed Brienne upon entering the ancient amphitheater the day the Northern contingent arrived to present the captured Dead. He had almost felt his elder brother's heart stop at the sight of her. Tyrion's own broke for Jaime, witnessing his painful effort to remain unmoved. Even then, it was clear, the struggle took every ounce of resolve Jaime possessed.
"The tension between the three of you could have been sliced with a blade." Tyrion described. "It was clear that you and Brienne held far more feelings for each other than mere acquaintances.
Jaime's eyes became distant as they filled with shame. "Cersei could tell my heart belonged to Brienne. I could feel it." Jaime described as if he were still terrified. "And then I left for the North, and I led Cersei right to her." His voice was heavy with remorse.
"You went where your heart led you." Tyrion comforted.
Jaime's knees buckled as he realized that another life had also hung in the balance. "Galladon." He whispered, staring tearfully at Tyrion. "She would have killed my unborn son along with his mother." He reached out and steadied himself against the stone wall of the alley. "How could I have been so careless?" He gasped, his eyes searching wildly as if there were an answer.
Tyrion made his presence as forceful as he could. He would not allow Jaime to wallow in a tragedy that had not occurred. "That is why you returned to Kings Landing, to make sure she would never have the chance to hurt the woman you love, ever again." Tyrion said, proudly. "You succeeded, and almost sacrificed yourself in the doing." He shuttered. Jaime nodded, his breath returning to him as the relief that Cersei was dead and gone washed over him.
Tyrion shrugged, his forehead creasing as he considered his thoughts. "You can also thank the Gods that Cersei was stupid enough to hire the only assassin in the Seven Kingdoms that was actually loyal to us." He sputtered, his chest heaving with laughter before the words left his lips. Jaime eyed him in shock for a moment, and then joined him in enjoying the irony. The Lannister brothers dissolved in the humor of Tyrion's conclusion.
Once they caught their collective breath, Tyrion waved his hand before Jaime, pointing him in the direction of The Keep. "I believe that Brienne should finally be made aware of all you have endured, and accomplished, in your endeavor to ensure her safety." Tyrion insisted.
Jaime shook his head, defeated. "She will not even allow me to speak on the matter." He said sadly.
Tyrion glared at Jaime in frustration. "Jaime, you are a Lannister." He reminded. Jaime simply stared. "A Lion." Tyrion continued trying to lead Jaime in the direction of his intent. "Roar, and make her listen." He demanded, pushing Jaime ahead of him. Jaime sighed, knowing it would not be quite that easy.
Tyrion was unrelenting. "Off with you. To win the heart of your maiden fair." He postured encouragingly.
"Now?" Jaime questioned as if Tyrion was mad. "It is the middle of the night." He stated the obvious.
Tyrion smiled infectiously. "When has that ever stopped you!" He joked. "Now is as good a time as any." He remarked, shoving Jaime more forcefully.
"Take Ser Bronn's advice, Jaime." Tyrion suggested. "You want her?" He challenged. "Go get her!"